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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35638-8.txt b/35638-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..24e762c --- /dev/null +++ b/35638-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7770 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Leonora, by Maria Edgeworth + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Leonora + +Author: Maria Edgeworth + +Release Date: March 20, 2011 [EBook #35638] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEONORA *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: --It was long past midnight,--she had a heap of Mr. +L----'s old letters beside her. She denied that she was in tears.] + + + + + LEONORA + + BY + + MARIA EDGEWORTH + + [Illustration] + + "O lady Leonora! lady Leonora is ill!" exclaimed + every voice. The consternation was wonderful. + + LONDON + J.M. DENT & Co. ALDINE HOUSE + 69, GREAT EASTERN STREET, E.C. + 1893 + + + + +[Illustration] + + NOTE. + + +Leonora, though not published until 1806, was commenced three years +before that date: the circumstances under which it was written were to a +certain extent unique in Maria Edgeworth's life; for we are told that +throughout the time occupied in writing the story, she had in mind the +offer of marriage made to her by Monsieur Edelcrantz, a Swedish +gentleman of good position, "of superior understanding and mild +manners," as she told her aunt in a letter partly written before the +proposal and finished afterwards. This seems, from the biographies, to +have been the only time this truly good and sensible woman was ever +sought in marriage by any man; and it shows some of the good qualities +she possessed, that though she refused him, yet from the respect she +bore him and the esteem in which she held him, this story was written to +a large extent with a view to his approbation, though we are told that +she never knew whether or no he had read it. + +On the next page is appended a list of the principal editions of this +volume. + +Leonora, by Maria Edgeworth, 2 vols., London, 1806. + +---- Another edition, with _Letters on Several Subjects_, and + _An Essay on Self-Justification_ (forming Vol. IV. of _Tales + and Miscellaneous Pieces_, by Maria Edgeworth, 14 vols.), London, + 1825. + +---- Another edition (Vol. XIII. of _Novels and Tales_ of Maria + Edgeworth, 18 vols.), London, 1832-33. + +Many reprints from the stereotype plates of this edition have been + issued in various forms and with varying arrangement of the stories. + +Translated into French in 1807, and another edition in 1812. + + F. J. S. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + + LEONORA. + + + Letter i. + + _Lady Olivia to Lady Leonora L----._ + + +What a misfortune it is to be born a woman! In vain, dear Leonora, would +you reconcile me to my doom. Condemned to incessant hypocrisy, or +everlasting misery, woman is the slave or the outcast of society. +Confidence in our fellow-creatures, or in ourselves, alike forbidden us, +to what purpose have we understandings, which we may not use? hearts, +which we may not trust? To our unhappy sex genius and sensibility are +the most treacherous gifts of Heaven. Why should we cultivate talents +merely to gratify the caprice of tyrants? Why seek for knowledge, which +can prove only that our wretchedness is irremediable? If a ray of light +break in upon us, it is but to make darkness more visible; to show us +the narrow limits, the Gothic structure, the impenetrable barriers of +our prison. Forgive me if on this subject I cannot speak--if I cannot +think--with patience. Is it not fabled, that the gods, to punish some +refractory mortal of the male kind, doomed his soul to inhabit upon +earth a female form? A punishment more degrading, or more difficult to +endure, could scarcely be devised by cruelty omnipotent. What dangers, +what sorrows, what persecutions, what nameless evils awaits the woman +who dares to rise above the prejudices of her sex! + + "Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!" + +who, without a struggle, submit their reason to be swathed by all the +absurd bandages of custom. What, though they cripple or distort their +minds; are not these deformities beauties in the eyes of fashion? and +are not these people the favoured nurslings of the _World_, secure of +her smiles, her caresses, her fostering praise, her partial protection, +through all the dangers of youth and all the dotage of age? + + "Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!" + +who learn to speak, and think, and act by rote; who have a phrase, or a +maxim, or a formula ready for every occasion; who follow-- + + "All the nurse and all the priest have taught." + +And is it possible that Olivia can envy these _tideless-blooded_ souls +their happiness--their apathy? Is her high spirit so broken by +adversity? Not such the promise of her early years, not such the +language of her unsophisticated heart! Alas! I scarcely know, I scarcely +recollect, that proud self, which was wont to defy the voice of opinion, +and to set at nought the decrees of prejudice. The events of my life +shall be related, or rather the history of my sensations; for in a life +like mine sensations become events--a metamorphosis which you will see +in every page of my history. I feel an irresistible impulse to open my +whole heart to you, my dear Leonora. I ought to be awed by the +superiority of your understanding and of your character; yet there is +an indulgence in your nature, a softness in your temper, that dissipates +fear, and irresistibly attracts confidence. + +You have generously refused to be prejudiced against me by busy, +malignant rumour; you have resolved to judge of me for yourself. +Nothing, then, shall be concealed. In such circumstances I cannot seek +to extenuate any of my faults or follies. I am ready to acknowledge them +all with self-humiliation more poignant than the sarcasms of my +bitterest enemies. But I must pause till I have summoned courage for my +confession. Dear Leonora, adieu! + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter ij. + + _Olivia to Leonora._ + + +Full of life and spirits, with a heart formed for all the enthusiasm, +for all the delicacy of love, I married early, in the fond expectation +of meeting a heart suited to my own. Cruelly disappointed, I +found--merely a husband. My heart recoiled upon itself; true to my own +principles of virtue, I scorned dissimulation. I candidly confessed to +my husband, that my love was extinguished. I proved to him, alas! too +clearly, that we were not born for each other. The attractive moment of +illusion was past--never more to return; the repulsive reality remained. +The living was chained to the dead, and, by the inexorable tyranny of +English laws, that chain, eternally galling to innocence, can be severed +only by the desperation of vice. Divorce, according to our barbarous +institutions, cannot be obtained without guilt. Appalled at the thought, +I saw no hope but in submission. Yet to submit to live with the man I +could not love was, to a mind like mine, impossible. My principles and +my feelings equally revolted from this legal prostitution. We separated. +I sought for balm to my wounded heart in foreign climes. + +To the beauties of nature I was ever feelingly alive. Amidst the sublime +scenes of Switzerland, and on the consecrated borders of her classic +lakes, I sometimes forgot myself to happiness. Felicity, how +transient!--transient as the day-dreams that played upon my fancy in the +bright morning of love. Alas! not all creation's charms could soothe me +to repose. I wandered in search of that which change of place cannot +afford. There was an aching void in my heart--an indescribable sadness +over my spirits. Sometimes I had recourse to books; but how few were in +unison with my feelings, or touched the trembling chords of my +disordered mind! Commonplace morality I could not endure. History +presented nothing but a mass of crimes. Metaphysics promised some +relief, and I bewildered myself in their not inelegant labyrinth. But to +the bold genius and exquisite pathos of some German novelists I hold +myself indebted for my largest portion of ideal bliss; for those rapt +moments, when sympathy with kindred souls transported me into better +worlds, and consigned vulgar realities to oblivion. + +I am well aware, my Leonora, that you approve not of these my favourite +writers: but yours is the morality of one who has never known sorrow. I +also would interdict such cordials to the happy. But would you forbid +those to taste felicity in dreams who feel only misery when awake? Would +you dash the cup of Lethe from lips to which no other beverage is +salubrious or sweet? + +By the use of these opiates my soul gradually settled into a sort of +pleasing pensive melancholy. Has it not been said, that melancholy is a +characteristic of genius? I make no pretensions to genius: but I am +persuaded that melancholy is the habitual, perhaps the natural state of +those who have the misfortune to feel with delicacy. + +You, my dear Leonora, will class this notion amongst what you once +called my refined errors. Indeed I must confess, that I see in you an +exception so striking as almost to compel me to relinquish my theory. +But again let me remind you, that your lot in life has been different +from mine. Alas! how different! Why had not I such a friend, such a +mother as yours, early to direct my uncertain steps, and to educate me +to happiness? I might have been----. But no matter what I might have +been----. I must tell you what I have been. + +Separated from my husband, without a guide, without a friend at the most +perilous period of my life, I was left to that most insidious of +counsellors--my own heart--my own weak heart. When I was least prepared +to resist the impression, it was my misfortune to meet with a man of a +soul congenial to my own. Before I felt my danger, I was entangled +beyond the possibility of escape. The net was thrown over my heart; its +struggles were to no purpose but to exhaust my strength. Virtue +commanded me to be miserable--and I was miserable. But do I dare to +expect your pity, Leonora, for such an attachment? It excites your +indignation, perhaps your horror. Blame, despise, detest me; all this +would I rather bear than deceive you into fancying me better than I +really am. + +Do not, however, think me worse. If my views had been less pure, if I +had felt less reliance on the firmness of my own principles, and less +repugnance to artifice, I might easily have avoided some appearances, +which have injured me in the eyes of the world. With real contrition I +confess, that a fatal mixture of masculine independence of spirit, and +of female tenderness of heart, has betrayed me into many imprudences; +but of vice, and of that meanest species of vice, hypocrisy, I thank +Heaven, my conscience can acquit me. All I have now to hope is, that +you, my indulgent, my generous Leonora, will not utterly condemn me. +Truth and gratitude are my only claims to your friendship--to a +friendship, which would be to me the first of earthly blessings, which +might make me amends for all I have lost. Consider this before, unworthy +as I am, you reject me from your esteem. Counsel, guide, save me! +Without vanity, but with confidence I say it, I have a heart that will +repay you for affection. You will find me easily moved, easily governed +by kindness. Yours has already sunk deep into my soul, and your power is +unlimited over the affections and over the understanding of + + Your obliged + Olivia. + + + + + Letter iij. + + _From Lady Leonora L---- to her mother, the Duchess of ----, + enclosing the preceding letters._ + + +I am permitted to send you, my dear mother, the enclosed letters. Mixed +with what you may not approve, you will, I think, find in them proofs of +an affectionate heart and superior abilities. Lady Olivia is just +returned to England. Scandal, imported from the continent, has had such +an effect in prejudicing many of her former friends and acquaintance +against her, that she is in danger of being excluded from that society +of which she was once the ornament and the favourite; but I am +determined to support her cause, and to do everything in my power to +counteract the effects of malignity. I cannot sufficiently express the +indignation that I feel against the mischievous spirit of scandal, +which destroys happiness at every breath, and which delights in the +meanest of all malignant feelings--the triumph over the errors of +superior characters. Olivia has been much blamed, because she has been +much envied. + +Indeed, my dear mother, you have been prejudiced against her by false +reports. Do not imagine that her fascinating manners have blinded my +judgment: I assure you that I have discerned, or rather that she has +revealed to me, all her faults: and ought not this candour to make a +strong impression upon my mind in her favour? Consider how young, how +beautiful she was at her first entrance into fashionable life; how much +exposed to temptation, surrounded by flatterers, and without a single +friend. I am persuaded that she would have escaped all censure, and +would have avoided all the errors with which she now reproaches herself, +if she had been blessed with a mother such as mine. + + Leonora L---- + + + + Letter iv. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + + My dearest Child, + +I must answer your last before I sleep--before I can sleep in peace. I +have just finished reading the rhapsody which it enclosed; and whilst my +mind is full and warm upon the subject, let me write, for I can write to +my own satisfaction at no other time. I admire and love you, my child, +for the generous indignation you express against those who trample upon +the fallen, or who meanly triumph over the errors of superior genius; +and if I seem more cold, or more severe, than you wish me to be, +attribute this to my anxiety for your happiness, and to that caution +which is perhaps the infirmity of age. + +In the course of my long life I have, alas! seen vice and folly dressed +in so many different fashions, that I can find no difficulty in +detecting them under any disguise; but your unpractised eyes are almost +as easily deceived as when you were five years old, and when you could +not believe that your pasteboard nun was the same person in her various +changes of attire. + +Nothing would tempt you to associate with those who have avowed +themselves regardless of right and wrong; but I must warn you against +another, and a far more dangerous class, who, professing the most +refined delicacy of sentiment, and boasting of invulnerable virtue, +exhibit themselves in the most improper and hazardous situations; and +who, because they are without fear, expect to be deemed free from +reproach. Either from miraculous good fortune, or from a singularity of +temper, these adventurous heroines may possibly escape with what they +call perfect innocence. So much the worse for society. Their example +tempts others, who fall a sacrifice to their weakness and folly. I would +punish the tempters in this case more than the victims, and for them the +most effectual species of punishment is contempt. Neglect is death to +these female lovers of notoriety. The moment they are out of fashion +their power to work mischief ceases. Those who from their character and +rank have influence over public opinion are bound to consider these +things in the choice of their associates. This is peculiarly necessary +in days when attempts are made to level all distinctions. You have +sometimes hinted to me, my dear daughter, with all proper delicacy, that +I am too strict in my notions, and that, unknown to myself, my pride +mixes with morality. Be it so: the pride of family, and the pride of +virtue, should reciprocally support each other. Were I asked what I +think the best guard to a nobility in this or in any other country, I +should answer, VIRTUE. I admire that simple epitaph in Westminster Abbey +on the Duchess of Newcastle:--"Her name was Margaret Lucas, youngest +sister to the Lord Lucas of Colchester;--a noble family, for all the +brothers were valiant and all the sisters virtuous." + +I look to the temper of the times in forming rules for conduct. Of late +years we have seen wonderful changes in female manners. I may be like +the old marquis in Gil Blas, who contended that even the peaches of +modern days had deteriorated; but I fear that my complaints of the +degeneracy of human kind are better founded than his fears for the +vegetable creation. A taste for the elegant profligacy of French +gallantry was, I remember, introduced into this country before the +destruction of the French monarchy. Since that time, some sentimental +writers and pretended philosophers of our own and foreign countries have +endeavoured to confound all our ideas of morality. To every rule of +right they have found exceptions, and on these they have fixed the +public attention by adorning them with all the splendid decorations of +eloquence; so that the rule is despised or forgotten, and the exception +triumphantly established in its stead. These orators seem as if they had +been employed by Satan to plead the cause of vice; and, as if possessed +by the evil spirit, they speak with a vehemence which carries away their +auditors, or with a subtlety which deludes their better judgment. They +put extreme cases, in which virtue may become vice, or vice virtue: they +exhibit criminal passions in constant connexion with the most exalted, +the most amiable virtues; thus making use of the best feelings of human +nature for the worst purposes, they engage pity or admiration +perpetually on the side of guilt. Eternally talking of philosophy and +philanthropy, they borrow the terms only to perplex the ignorant and +seduce the imagination. They have their systems and their theories, and +in theory they pretend that the general good of society is their sole +immutable rule of morality, and in practice they make the variable +feelings of each individual the judges of this general good. Their +systems disdain all the vulgar virtues, intent upon some _beau ideal_ of +perfection or perfectibility. They set common sense and common honesty +at defiance. No matter: their doctrine, so convenient to the passions +and soporific to the conscience, can never want partisans; especially by +weak and enthusiastic women it is adopted and propagated with eagerness; +then they become personages of importance, and zealots in support of +their sublime opinions; and they can read--and they can write--and they +can talk--and they can _effect a revolution in public opinion_! I am +afraid, indeed, that they can; for of late years we have heard more of +sentiment than of principles; more of the rights of woman than of her +duties. We have seen talents disgraced by the conduct of their +possessors, and perverted in the vain attempt to defend what is +unjustifiable. + +Where must all this end? Where the abuse of reason inevitably ends--in +the ultimate law of force. If in this age of reason women make a bad use +of that power which they have obtained by the cultivation of their +understanding, they will degrade and enslave themselves beyond +redemption; they will reduce their sex to a situation worse than it ever +experienced even in the ages of ignorance and superstition. If men find +that the virtue of women diminishes in proportion as intellectual +cultivation increases, they will connect, fatally for the freedom and +happiness of our sex, the ideas of female ignorance and female +innocence; they will decide that one is the effect of the other. They +will not pause to distinguish between the use and the abuse of reason; +they will not stand by to see further experiments tried at their +expense, but they will prohibit knowledge altogether as a pernicious +commodity, and will exert the superior power which nature and society +place in their hands, to enforce their decrees. Opinion obtained freedom +for women; by opinion they may be again enslaved. It is therefore the +interest of the female world, and of society, that women should be +deterred by the dread of shame from passing the bounds of discretion. No +false lenity, no partiality in favour of amusing talents or agreeable +manners, should admit of exceptions which become dangerous examples of +impunity. The rank and superior understanding of a _delinquent_ ought +not to be considered in mitigation, but as aggravating circumstances. +Rank makes ill conduct more conspicuous: talents make it more dangerous. +Women of abilities, if they err, usually employ all their powers to +justify rather than to amend their faults. + +I am afraid, my dear daughter, that my general arguments are closing +round your Olivia; but I must bid you a good night, for my poor eyes +will serve me no longer. God bless you, my dear child. + + + + + Letter v. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + +I agree with you, my dear mother, that in these times especially, it is +incumbent upon all persons, whose rank or reputation may influence +public opinion, to be particularly careful to support the cause of +female honour, of virtue, and religion. With the same object in view, we +may however differ in the choice of means for its attainment. Pleasure +as well as pain acts upon human creatures; and therefore, in governing +them, may not reward be full as efficacious as punishment? Our sex are +sufficiently apprised of the fatal consequences of ill conduct; the +advantages of well-earned reputation should be at least as great, as +certain, and as permanent. + +In former times, a single finger pointed at the scutcheon of a knight +challenged him to defend his fame; but the defiance was open, the +defence was public; and if the charge proved groundless, it injured none +but the malicious accuser. In our days female reputation, which is of a +nature more delicate than the honour of any knight, may be destroyed by +the finger of private malice. The whisper of secret scandal, which +admits of no fair or public answer, is too often sufficient to dishonour +a life of spotless fame. This is the height, not only of injustice, but +of impolicy. Women will become indifferent to reputation, which it is so +difficult, even by the prudence of years, to acquire, and which it is so +easy to lose in a moment, by the malice or thoughtlessness of those who +invent or who repeat scandal. Those who call themselves the world often +judge without listening to evidence, and proceed upon suspicion with as +much promptitude and severity as if they had the most convincing proofs. +But because Cæsar, nearly two thousand years ago, said, that his wife +ought not even to be suspected, and divorced her upon the strength of +this sentiment, shall we make it a general maxim, that suspicion +justifies punishment? We might as well applaud those, who when their +friends are barely suspected to be tainted with the plague, drive them +from all human comfort and assistance. + +Even where women, from the thoughtless gaiety of youth, or the impulse +of inexperienced enthusiasm, may have given some slight cause for +censure, I would not have virtue put on all her gorgon terrors, nor +appear circled by the vengeful band of prudes; her chastening hand will +be more beneficially felt if she wear her more benign form. To place the +imprudent in the same class with the vicious is injustice and impolicy; +were the same punishment and the same disgrace to be affixed to small +and to great offences, the number of _capital_ offenders would certainly +increase. Those who were disposed to yield to their passions would, when +they had once failed in exact decorum, see no motive, no fear to +restrain them; and there would be no pause, no interval between error +and profligacy. Amongst females who have been imprudent, there are many +things to be considered which ought to recommend them to mercy. The +judge, when he is obliged to pronounce the immutable sentence of the +law, often, with tears, wishes that it were in his power to mitigate the +punishment: the decisions of opinion may and must vary with +circumstances, else the degree of reprobation which they inflict cannot +be proportioned to the offence, or calculated for the good of society. +Among the mitigating circumstances I should be inclined to name even +those which you bring in aggravation. Talents, and what is called +genius, in our sex are often connected with a warmth of heart, an +enthusiasm of temper, which expose to dangers from which the coldness of +mediocrity is safe. In the illuminated palace of ice, the lights which +render the spectacle splendid, and which raise the admiration of the +beholders, endanger the fabric and tend to its destruction. + +But you will tell me, dear mother, that allusion is not argument--and I +am almost afraid to proceed, lest you should think me an advocate for +vice. I would not shut the gates of mercy, inexorably and +indiscriminately, upon all those of my own sex, who have even been _more +than imprudent_. + + "He taught them shame, the sudden sense of ill-- + Shame, Nature's hasty conscience, which forbids + Weak inclination ere it grows to will, + Or stays rash will before it grows to deeds." + +Whilst a woman is alive to shame, she cannot be dead to virtue. But by +injudicious or incessant reproach, this principle, even where it is most +exquisite, may be most easily destroyed. The mimosa, when too long +exposed to each rude touch, loses its retractile sensibility. It ought +surely to be the care of the wise and benevolent to cherish that +principle, implanted in our nature as the guard of virtue, that +principle upon which legislators rest the force of punishment, and all +the grand interests of society. + +My dear mother, perhaps you will be surprised at the style in which I +have been writing, and you will smile at hearing your Leonora discuss +the duties of legislators, and the grand interests of society. She has +not done so from presumption, or from affectation. She was alarmed by +your supposing that her judgment was deluded by fascinating manners, and +she determined to produce _general_ arguments, to convince you that she +is not actuated by particular prepossession. You see that I have at +least some show of reason on my side. I have forborne to mention +Olivia's name: but now that I have obviated, I hope by reasoning, the +imputation of partiality, I may observe that all my arguments are +strongly in her favour. She had been attacked by slander; _the world_ +has condemned her upon suspicion merely. She has been imprudent; but I +repeat, in the strongest terms, that I am _convinced of her innocence_; +and that I should bitterly regret that a woman with such an affectionate +heart, such uncommon candour, and such superior abilities, should be +lost to society. + +Tell me, my dear mother, that you are no longer in anxiety about the +consequences of my attachment to Olivia. + + Your affectionate daughter, + Leonora. + + + + + Letter vi. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + +You lament, my dear child, that such an affectionate heart, such great +abilities as Olivia's should be lost to society. Before I sympathise in +your pity, my judgment must be convinced that it is reasonable. + +What proofs has Lady Olivia given of her affectionate heart? She is at +variance with both her parents; she is separated from her husband; and +she leaves her child in a foreign country, to be educated by strangers. +Am I to understand, that her ladyship's neglecting to perform the duties +of a daughter, a wife, and a mother, are proofs of an affectionate +heart? As to her superior talents, do they contribute to her own +happiness, or to the happiness of others? Evidently not to her own; for +by her account of herself, she is one of the most miserable wretches +alive! She tells you that "_she went to foreign climes in search of balm +for a wounded heart, and wandered from place to place, looking for what +no place could afford_." She talks of "_indescribable sadness--an aching +void--an impenetrable prison--darkness visible--dead bodies chained to +living ones_;" and she exhibits all the disordered furniture of a +"diseased mind." But you say, that though her powers are thus +insufficient to make herself happy, they may amuse or instruct the +world; and of this I am to judge by the letters which you have sent me. +You admire fine writing; so do I. I class eloquence high amongst the +fine arts. But by eloquence I mean something more than Dr Johnson +defines it to be, "the art of speaking with fluency and elegance." This +is an art which is now possessed to a certain degree by every +boarding-school miss. Every scribbling young lady can now string +sentences and sentiments together, and can turn a period harmoniously. +Upon the strength of these accomplishments they commence heroines, and +claim the privileges of the order; privileges which go to an indefinite +and most alarming extent. Every heroine may have her own code of +morality for her private use, and she is to be tried by no other; she +may rail as loudly as she pleases "at the barbarous institutions of +society," and may deplore "_the inexorable tyranny of the English +laws_." If she find herself involved in delicate entanglements of +crossing duties, she may break through any one, or all of them, to +extricate herself with a noble contempt of prejudice. + +I have promised to reason calmly; but I cannot repress the terror which +I feel at the idea of my daughter's becoming the friend of one of these +women. Olivia's letters are, I think, in the true heroine style; and +they might make a brilliant figure in a certain class of novels. She +begins with a bold exclamation on "the misfortune of being born a +woman!--_the slave or the outcast of society, condemned to incessant +hypocrisy!_" Does she mean modesty? Her manly soul feels it "_the most +degrading punishment that omnipotent cruelty could devise, to be +imprisoned in a female form_." From such a masculine spirit some +fortitude and magnanimity might be expected; but presently she begs to +be pitied, for a broken spirit, and more than female tenderness of +heart. I have observed that the ladies who wish to be men are usually +those who have not sufficient strength of mind to be women. + +Olivia proceeds in an ironical strain to envy, as "_the happiest of +their sex, those who submit to be swathed by custom_." These persons she +stigmatizes with the epithet of _tideless-blooded_. It is the common +trick of unprincipled women to affect to despise those who conduct +themselves with propriety. Prudence they term _coldness_; fortitude, +_insensibility_; and regard to the rights of others, _prejudice_. By +this perversion of terms they would laugh or sneer virtue out of +countenance; and, by robbing her of all praise, they would deprive her +of all immediate motive. Conscious of their own degradation, they would +lower everything, and everybody, to their own standard: they would make +you believe, that those who have not yielded to their passions are +destitute of sensibility; that the love which is not blazoned forth in +glaring colours is not entitled to our sympathy. The sacrifice of the +strongest feelings of the human heart to a sense of duty is to be called +mean, or absurd; but the shameless phrensy of passion, exposing itself +to public gaze, is to be an object of admiration. These heroines talk of +strength of mind; but they forget that strength of mind is to be shown +in resisting their passions, not in yielding to them. Without being +absolutely of an opinion, which I have heard maintained, that all virtue +is sacrifice, I am convinced that the essential characteristic of virtue +is to bear and forbear. These sentimentalists can do neither. They talk +of sacrifices and generosity; but they are the veriest egotists--the +most selfish creatures alive. + +Open your eyes, my dear Leonora, and see things as they really are. Lady +Olivia thinks it a sufficient excuse for abandoning her husband, to say, +that she found "_his soul was not in unison with hers_." She thinks it +an adequate apology for a criminal attachment, to tell you that "_the +net was thrown over her heart before she felt her danger: that all its +struggles were to no purpose, but to exhaust her strength_." + +If she did not feel her danger, she prepared it. The course of reading +which her ladyship followed was the certain preparation for her +consequent conduct. She tells us that she could not endure "_the +commonplace of morality, but metaphysics promised her some relief_." In +these days a heroine need not be a moralist, but she must be a +metaphysician. She must "_wander in the not inelegant labyrinth_;" and +if in the midst of it she comes unawares upon the monster vice, she must +not start, though she have no clue to secure her retreat. + +From metaphysics Lady Olivia went on to German novels. "_For her largest +portions of bliss, for those rapt moments which consigned vulgar +realities to oblivion_," she owns herself indebted to those writers, who +promise an ideal world of pleasure, which, like the _mirage_ in the +desert, bewilders the feverish imagination. I always suspected the +imagination of these _women of feeling_ to be more susceptible than +their hearts. They want excitation for their morbid sensibility, and +they care not at what expense it is procured. If they could make all the +pleasures of life into one cordial they would swallow it at a draught in +a fit of sentimental spleen. The mental intemperance that they indulge +in promiscuous novel-reading destroys all vigour and clearness of +judgment; everything dances in the varying medium of their imagination. +Sophistry passes for reasoning; nothing appears profound but what is +obscure; nothing sublime but what is beyond the reach of mortal +comprehension. To their vitiated taste the simple pathos, which +o'ersteps not the modesty of nature, appears cold, tame, and insipid; +they must have _scènes_ and a _coup de théâtre_; and ranting, and +raving, and stabbing, and drowning, and poisoning; for with them there +is no love without murder. Love, in their representations, is indeed a +distorted, ridiculous, horrid monster, from whom common sense, taste, +decency, and nature recoil. + +But I will be calm.--You say, my dear Leonora, that your judgment has +not been blinded by Lady Olivia's fascinating manners; but that you are +strongly influenced in her favour by that candour, with which she has +revealed to you all her faults. The value of candour in individuals +should be measured by their sensibility to shame. When a woman throws +off all restraint, and then desires me to admire her candour, I am +astonished only at her assurance. Do not be the dupe of such candour. +Lady Olivia avows a criminal passion, yet you say that you have no +doubts of her innocence. The persuasion of your unsuspecting heart is no +argument: when you give me any proofs in her favour, I shall pay them +all due attention. In the meantime I have given you my opinion of those +ladies who place themselves in the most perilous situations, and then +expect you to believe them safe. + +Olivia's professions of regard for you are indeed enthusiastic. She +tells you, that "_your power is unlimited over her heart and +understanding, that your friendship would be to her one of the greatest +of earthly blessings_." May be so--but I cannot wish you to be her +friend. With whatever confidence she makes the assertion, do not believe +that she has a heart capable of feeling the value of yours. These +sentimental, unprincipled women make the worst friends in the world. We +are often told that, "poor creatures! they do nobody any harm but +themselves;" but in society it is scarcely possible for a woman to do +harm to herself without doing harm to others; all her connexions must +be involved in the consequences of her imprudence. Besides, what +confidence can you repose in them? If you should happen to be an +obstacle in the way of any of their fancies, do you think that they will +respect you or your interest, when they have not scrupled to sacrifice +their own to the gratification of their passions? Do you think that the +gossamer of sentiment will restrain those whom the strong chains of +prudence could not hold? + +O! my dearest child, forcibly as these arguments carry conviction to my +mind, I dread lest your compassionate, generous temper should prevent +their reaching your understanding. Then let me conjure you, by all the +respect which you have ever shown for your mother's opinions, by all +that you hold dear or sacred, beware of forming an intimacy with an +unprincipled woman. Believe me to be + + Your truly affectionate mother, + + + + + Letter vij. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + +No daughter ever felt more respect for the opinions of a parent than I +do for yours, my dearest mother; but you have never, even from +childhood, required from me a blind submission--you have always +encouraged me to desire conviction. And now, when the happiness of +another is at stake, you will forgive me if I am less disposed to yield +than I should be, I hope, if my own interest or taste were alone +concerned. + +You ask me what proofs I have of Lady Olivia's innocence. Believe me, I +have such as are convincing to my unbiassed judgment, and such as would +be sufficient to satisfy all your doubts, were I at liberty to lay the +whole truth before you. But even to exculpate herself, Olivia will not +ruin in your opinion her husband, of whom you imagine that she has no +reason to complain. I, who know how anxious she is to obtain your +esteem, can appreciate the sacrifice that she makes; and in this +instance, as in many others, I admire her magnanimity; it is equal to +her candour, for which she is entitled to praise even by your own +principles, dear mother: since, far from having _thrown off all +restraint_, she is exquisitely susceptible of shame. + +As to her understanding--have no persons of great talents ever been +unfortunate? Frequently we see that they have not been able, by all +their efforts and all their powers, to remedy the defects in the +characters and tempers of those with whom they have unhappily been +connected. Olivia married very young, and was unfortunately mistaken in +her choice of a husband: on that subject I can only deplore her error +and its consequences: but as to her disagreements with her own family, I +do not think her to blame. For the mistakes we make in the choice of +lovers or friends we may be answerable, but we cannot be responsible for +the faults of the relations who are given to us by nature. If we do not +please them, it may be our misfortune; it is not necessarily our fault. +I cannot be more explicit, without betraying Lady Olivia's confidence, +and implicating others in defending her. + +With respect to that attachment of which you speak with so much just +severity, she has given me the strongest assurances that she will do +everything in her power to conquer it. Absence, you know, is the first +and the most difficult step, and this she has taken. Her course of +reading displeases you: I cannot defend it: but I am persuaded that it +is not a proof of her taste being vitiated. Many people read ordinary +novels as others take snuff, merely from habit, from the want of petty +excitation; and not, as you suppose, from the want of exorbitant or +improper stimulus. Those who are unhappy have recourse to any trifling +amusement that can change the course of their thoughts. I do not justify +Olivia for having chosen such _comforters_ as certain novels, but I pity +her and impute this choice to want of fortitude, not to depravity of +taste. Before she married, a strict injunction was laid upon her not to +read any book that was called a novel: this raised in her mind a sort of +perverse curiosity. By making any books or opinions contraband, the +desire to read and circulate them is increased; bad principles are +consequently smuggled into families, and being kept secret, can never be +subject to fair examination. I think it must be advantageous to the +right side of any question, that all which can be said against it should +be openly heard, that it may be answered. I do not + + "Hate when vice can bolt her arguments;" + +for I know that virtue has a tongue to answer her. The more vice repeats +her assertions, the better; because when familiarized, their boldness +will not astound the understanding, and the charm of novelty will not be +mistaken for the power of truth. We may observe, that the admiration for +the class of writers to whom you allude, though violent in its +commencement, has abated since they have been more known; and numbers, +who began with rapture, have ended with disgust. Person of vivacious +imaginations, like Olivia, may be caught at first view by whatever has +the appearance of grandeur or sublimity; but if time be allowed for +examination, they will infallibly detect the disproportions, and these +will ever afterwards shock their taste: if you will not allow leisure +for comparison--if you say, do not look at such strange objects, the +obedient eyes may turn aside, but the rebel imagination pictures +something a thousand times more wonderful and charming than the reality. +I will venture to predict, that Olivia will soon be tired of the species +of novels which she now admires, and that, once surfeited with these +books, and convinced of their pernicious effects, she will never relapse +into the practice of novel reading. + +As to her taste for metaphysical books----Dear mother, I am very daring +to differ with you in so many points; but permit me to say, that I do +not agree with you in detesting metaphysics. People may lose themselves +in that labyrinth; but why should they meet with vice in the midst of +it? The characters of a moralist, a practical moralist, and a +metaphysician, are not incompatible, as we may see in many amiable and +illustrious examples. To examine human motives, and the nature of the +human mind, is not to destroy the power of virtue, or to increase the +influence of vice. The chemist, after analysing certain substances, and +after discovering their constituent parts, can lay aside all that is +heterogeneous, and recompound the substance in a purer state. From +analogy we might infer, that the motives of metaphysicians ought to be +purer than those of the vulgar and ignorant. To discover the art of +converting base into noble passions, or to obtain a universal remedy for +all mental diseases, is perhaps beyond the power of metaphysicians; but +in the pursuit useful discoveries may be made. + +As to Olivia's letters--I am sorry I sent them to you; for I see that +they have lowered, instead of raising her in your opinion. But if you +criticise letters, written in openness and confidence of heart to a +private friend, as if they were set before the tribunal of the public, +you are--may I say it?--not only severe, but unjust; for you try and +condemn the subjects of one country by the laws of another. + +Dearest mother, be half as indulgent to Olivia as you are to me: indeed +you are prejudiced against her, and because you see some faults, you +think her whole character vicious. But would you cut down a fine tree +because a leaf is withered, or because the canker-worm has eaten into +the bud? Even if a main branch were decayed, are there not remedies +which, skilfully applied, can save the tree from destruction, and +perhaps restore it to its pristine beauty? + +And now, having exhausted all my allusions, all my arguments, and all my +little stock of eloquence, I must come to a plain matter of fact-- + +Before I received your letter I had invited Lady Olivia to spend some +time at L---- Castle. I fear that you will blame my precipitation, and I +reproach myself for it, because I know it will give you pain. However, +though you will think me imprudent, I am certain you would rather that I +were imprudent than unjust. I have defended Olivia from what I believe +to be unmerited censure; I have invited her to my house; she has +accepted my proffered kindness; to withdraw it afterwards would be doing +her irreparable injury: it would confirm all that the world can suspect: +it would be saying to the censorious--I am convinced that you are right, +and I deliver your victim up to you. + +Thus I should betray the person whom I undertook to defend: her +confidence in me, her having but for a moment accepted my protection, +would be her ruin. I could not act in so base a manner. + +Fear nothing for me, my best, but too anxious friend. I may do Lady +Olivia some good; she can do me no harm. She may learn the principles +which you have taught me; I can never catch from her any tastes or +habits which you would disapprove. As to the rest, I hazard little or +nothing. The hereditary credit which I enjoy in my maternal right +enables me to assist others without injuring myself. + + Your affectionate daughter, + Leonora. + + + + + Letter viij. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + + My dearest Child, + +I hope that you are in the right, and that I am in the wrong. + + Your affectionate mother, + + + + + Letter ix. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +Prepare yourself, my ever dear and charming Gabrielle, for all the +torments of jealousy. Know, that since I came to England I have formed a +new friendship with a woman who is interesting in the extreme, who has +charmed me by the simplicity of her manners and the generous sensibility +of her heart. Her character is certainly too reserved: yet even this +defect has perhaps increased her power over my imagination, and +consequently over my affections. I know not by what magic she has +obtained it, but she has already an ascendency over me, which would +quite astonish _you_, who know my wayward fancies and independent +spirit. + +Alas! I confess my heart is weak indeed; and I fear that all the power +of friendship and philosophy combined will never strengthen it +sufficiently. O, Gabrielle! how can I hope to obliterate from my soul +that attachment which has marked the colour of my destiny for years? Yet +such courage, such cruel courage is required of me, and of such I have +boasted myself capable. Lady Leonora L----, my new friend, has, by all +the English eloquence of virtue, obtained from me a promise, which, I +fear, I shall not have the fortitude to keep--but I must make the +attempt----Forbid R*** to write to me----Yes! I have written the +words----Forbid R*** to write to me----Forbid him to think of me----I +will do more--if possible I will forbid myself henceforward to think of +him--to think of love--Adieu, my Gabrielle----All the illusions of life +are over, and a dreary blank of future existence lies before me, +terminated only by the grave. To-morrow I go to L---- Castle, with +feelings which I can compare only to those of the unfortunate la +Vallière when she renounced her lover, and resolved to bury herself in a +cloister.--Alas! why have not I the resource of devotion? + + Your unhappy + Olivia. + + + + + Letter x. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +Publish my travels!--Not I, my dear friend. The world shall never have +the pleasure of laughing at General B----'s trip to Paris. Before a man +sets about to inform others, he should have seen, not only the surface +but the bottom of things; he should have had, not only a _vue d'oiseau_, +but (to use a celebrated naval commander's expression) a _vue de +poisson_ of his subject. By this time you must have heard enough of the +Louvre and the Tuilleries, and Versailles, and la petit Trianon, and St +Cloud--and you have had enough of pictures and statues; and you know all +that can be known of Bonaparté, by seeing him at a review or a levee; +and the fashionable beauties and _celebrated characters_ of the hour +have all passed and repassed through the magic lantern. A fresh showman +might make his figures a little more correct, or a little more in +laughable caricature, but he could produce nothing new. Alas! there is +nothing new under the sun. Nothing remains for the moderns, but to +practise the oldest follies and newest ways. Would you, for the sake of +your female friends, know the fashionable dress of a Parisian +_elegante_, see Seneca on the transparent vestments of the Roman ladies, +who, like these modern belles, were generous in the display of their +charms to the public. No doubt these French republicanists act upon the +true Spartan principle of modesty: they take the most efficacious method +to prevent their influence from being too great over the imaginations of +men, by renouncing all that insidious reserve which alone can render +even beauty permanently dangerous. + +Of the cruelties of the revolution I can tell you nothing new. The +public have been steeped up to the lips in blood, and have surely had +their fill of horrors. + +But, my dear friend, you say that I must be able to give a just view of +the present state of French society, and of the best parts of it, +because I have not, like some of my countrymen, hurried about Paris from +one _spectacle_ to another, seen the opera, and the play-houses, and the +masked balls, and the gaming-houses, and the women of the Palais Royale, +and the lions of all sorts; gone through the usual routine of +presentation and public dinners, drunk French wine, damned French +cookery, and "come home content." I have certainly endeavoured to employ +my time better, and have had the good fortune to be admitted into the +best _private societies_ in Paris. These were composed of the remains of +the French nobility, of men of letters and science, and of families, +who, without interfering in politics, devote themselves to domestic +duties, to literary and social pleasures. The happy hours I have passed +in this society can never be forgotten, and the kindness I have received +has made its full impression upon an honest English heart. I will never +disgrace the confidence of my friends by drawing their characters for +the public. + +Cæsar, in all his glory, and all his despotism, could not, with +impunity, force a Roman knight[1] to go upon the stage: but modern +anecdote-mongers, more cruel and insolent than Cæsar, force their +friends of all ages and sexes to appear, and speak, and act, for the +amusement or derision of the public. + +My dear friend, is not my resolution, never to favour the world with my +tour, well grounded? I hope that I have proved to your satisfaction, +that I could tell people nothing but what I do not understand, or what +is not worth telling them, or what has been told them a hundred times, +or what, as a gentleman, I am bound not to publish. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + +[Footnote 1: Laberius.] + + + + + Letter xi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Friendship, my amiable and interesting Gabrielle, is more an affair of +the heart than of the head, more the instinct of taste than the choice +of reason. With me the heart is no longer touched, when the imagination +ceases to be charmed. Explain to me this metaphysical phenomenon of my +nature, and, for your reward, I will quiet your jealousy, by confessing +without compunction what now weighs on my conscience terribly. I begin +to feel that I can never love this English friend as I ought. She is +_too English_--far too English for one who has known the charms of +French ease, vivacity, and sentiment; for one who has seen the +bewitching Gabrielle's infinite variety. + +Leonora has just the figure and face that you would picture to yourself +for _une belle Angloise_; and if our Milton comes into your memory, you +might repeat, for the quotation is not too trite for a foreigner-- + + "Grace is in all her steps, heaven in her eye, + In every gesture dignity and love." + +But then it is grace which says nothing, a heaven only for a husband, +the dignity more of a matron than of a heroine, and love that might have +suited Eve before she had seen this world. Leonora is certainly a +beauty; but then a beauty who does not know her power, and who, +consequently, can make no one else feel its full extent. She is not +unlike your beautiful Polish princess, but she has none of the charming +Anastasia's irresistible transitions from soft, silent languor, to +brilliant, eloquent enthusiasm. All the gestures and attitudes of +Anastasia are those of taste and sentiment, Leonora's are simply those +of nature. _La belle nature_, but not _le beau idéal_. With a figure +that would grace any court, or shine upon any stage, she usually enters +a room without producing, or thinking of producing, any sensation; she +moves often without seeming to have any other intention than to change +her place; and her fine eyes generally look as if they were made only to +see with. At times she certainly has a most expressive and intelligent +countenance. I have seen her face enlightened by the fire of genius, +and shaded by the exquisite touches of sensibility; but all this is +merely called forth by the occasion, and vanishes before it is noticed +by half the company. Indeed, the full radiance of her beauty or of her +wit seldom shines upon any one but her husband. The audience and +spectators are forgotten. Heavens! what a difference between the effect +which Leonora and Gabrielle produce! But, to do her justice, much of +this arises from the different _organization_ of French and English +society. In Paris the insipid details of domestic life are judiciously +kept behind the scenes, and women appear as heroines upon the stage, +with all the advantages of decoration, to listen to the language of +love, and to receive the homage of public admiration. In England, +gallantry is not yet _systematised_, and our sex look more to their +families than to what is called society for the happiness of existence. +And yet the affection of mothers for their children does not appear to +be so strong in the hearts of English as of French women. In England +ladies do not talk of the _sentiment of maternity_ with that elegance +and sensibility with which you expatiate upon it continually in +conversation. They literally are _des bonnes mères de famille_, not from +the impulse of sentiment, but merely from an early instilled sense of +duty, for which they deserve little credit. However, they devote their +lives to their children, and those who have the misfortune to be their +intimate friends are doomed to see them half the day, or all day long, +go through the part of the good mother in all its diurnal monotony of +lessons and caresses. All this may be vastly right--it is a pity it is +so tiresome. For my part I cannot conceive how persons of superior taste +and talents can submit to it, unless it be to make themselves a +reputation, and that you know is done by writing and talking on the +general principles, not by submitting to the minute details of +education. The great painter sketches the outline, and touches the +principal features, but leaves the subordinate drudgery of filling up +the parts, finishing the drapery, &c., to inferior hands. + +Upon recollection, in my favourite "Sorrows of Werter," the heroine is +represented cutting bread and butter for a group of children: I admire +this simplicity in Goethe; 'tis one of the secrets by which he touches +the heart. Simplicity is delightful by way of variety, but always +simplicity is worse than _toujours perdrix_. Children in a novel or a +drama are charming little creatures: but in real life they are often +insufferable plagues. What becomes of them in Paris I know not; but I am +sure that they are never in the way of one's conversations or reveries; +and it would be a blessing to society if English children were as +inaudible and invisible. These things strike me sensibly upon my return +to England, after so long an absence. Surely, by means of the machinery +of masters, and governesses, and schools, the manufacture of education +might be carried on without incommoding those who desire to see only the +finished production. Here I find the daughter of an English duke, a +woman in the first bloom of youth, of the highest pretensions in point +of rank, beauty, fashion, accomplishments, and talents, devoting herself +to the education of two children, orphans, left to her care by an elder +sister. To take charge of orphans is a good and fine action; as such it +touches me sensibly; but then where is the necessity of sacrificing +one's friends, and one's pleasures, day after day, and hour after hour, +to mere children? Leonora can persevere only from a notion of duty. Now, +in my opinion, when generosity becomes duty it ceases to be virtue. +Virtue requires free-will: duty implies constraint. Virtue acts from the +impulse of the moment, and never tires or is tired; duty drudges on in +consequence of reflection, and, weary herself, wearies all beholders. +Duty, always laborious, never can be graceful; and what is not graceful +in woman cannot be amiable--can it, my amiable Gabrielle? But I reproach +myself for all I have written. Leonora is my friend--besides, I am +really obliged to her, and for the universe would I not hint a thought +to her disadvantage. Indeed she is a most excellent, a faultless +character, and it is the misfortune of your Olivia not to love +perfection as she ought. + +My charming and interesting Gabrielle, I am more out of humour with +myself than you can conceive; for in spite of all that reason and +gratitude urge, I fear I cannot prefer the insipid virtues of Leonora to +the lively graces of Gabrielle. + +As to the cold husband, Mr L----, I neither know nor wish to know +anything of him; but I live in hopes of an agreeable and interesting +accession to our society to-day, from the arrival of Leonora's intimate +friend, a young widow, whose husband I understand was a man of a harsh +temper: she has gone through severe trials with surprising fortitude; +and though I do not know her history, I am persuaded it must be +interesting. Assuredly this husband could never have been the man of her +choice, and of course she must have had some secret unhappy attachment, +which doubtless preyed upon her spirits. Probably the object of her +affection, in despair at her marriage, plighted his faith unfortunately, +or possibly may have fallen a sacrifice to his constancy. I am all +impatience to see her. Her husband's name was so ruggedly English, that +I am sure you would never be able to pronounce it, especially if you +only saw it written; therefore I shall always to you call her Helen, a +name which is more pleasing to the ear, and more promising to the +imagination. I have not been able to prevail upon Leonora to describe +her friend to me exactly; she says only, that she loves Helen too well +to over-praise her beforehand. My busy fancy has, however, bodied forth +her form, and painted her in the most amiable and enchanting colours. +Hark! she is just arrived. Adieu. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xij. + + _From Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + * * * * * * + +Having now had the honour of spending nearly a week in the society of +the celebrated enchantress, Lady Olivia, you will naturally expect that +I should be much improved in the art of love: but before I come to my +improvements I must tell you, what will be rather more interesting, that +Leonora is perfectly well and happy, and that I have the dear delight of +exclaiming ten times an hour, "Ay, just as I thought it would be!--Just +such a wife, just such a mistress of a family I knew she would make." + +"_Not to admire_" is an art or a precept which I have not been able to +practise much since I came here. Some philosophers tell us that +admiration is not only a silly but a fatiguing state of mind; and I +suppose that nothing could have preserved my mind from being tired to +death but the quantity of bodily exercise which I have taken. I could if +I pleased give you a plan and elevation of this castle. Nay, I doubt not +but I could stand an examination in the catalogue of the pictures, or +the inventory of the furniture. + +You, Helen!--you who could not remember the colour of Lady N----'s +_new_ curtains after you had seen them at least a hundred times! + +Lady N---- was indifferent to me, and how could I hang up her curtains +in my memory? By what could they hold? Do you not know, Margaret. . . . +all the fine things that I could say, and that quartos have said before +me, about the association of ideas and sensations, &c.? Those we love +impart to uninteresting objects the power of pleasing, as the magnet can +communicate to inert metal its attractive influence. + +Till Mr L---- was Leonora's lover I never liked him much. I do not mean +to call him inert. I always knew that he had many excellent qualities; +but there was nothing in his temper peculiarly agreeable to me, and +there was something in his character that I did not thoroughly +understand; yet since he is become Leonora's husband I find my +understanding much improved, and I dare say it will soon be so far +enlarged, that I shall comprehend him perfectly. + +Leonora has almost persuaded me to like Lady Olivia. Not to laugh at her +would be impossible. I wish you could see the way in which we go on +together. Our first setting out would have diverted you. Enter Lady +Olivia breathless, with an air of theatric expectation--advances to +embrace Helen, who is laughing with Leonora--her back turned towards the +side of the stage at which Olivia enters--Olivia pauses suddenly, and +measures Helen _with a long look_. What passes in Lady Olivia's mind at +this moment I do not know, but I guess that she was disappointed wofully +by my appearance. After some time she was recovered, by Leonora's +assistance, from her reverie, and presently began to admire my vivacity, +and to find out that I was Clarissa's Miss Howe--no, I was Lady G.--no, +I was Heloise's Clara: but I, choosing to be myself, and insisting upon +being an _original_, sunk again visibly and rapidly in Olivia's opinion, +till I was in imminent danger of being _nobody_. Leonora again kindly +interposed to save me from annihilation; and after an interval of an +hour or two dedicated to letter-writing, Lady Olivia returned and seated +herself beside me, resolved to decide what manner of woman I was. +Certain novels are the touchstones of feeling and _intellect_ with +certain ladies. Unluckily I was not well read in these; and in the +questions put to me from these sentimental statute-books, I gave strange +judgments, often for the husband or parents against the heroine. I did +not even admit the plea of destiny, irresistible passion, or +_entraînement_, as in all cases sufficient excuse for all errors and +crimes. Moreover, I excited astonishment by calling things by obsolete +names. I called a married woman's having a lover _a crime_! Then I was +no judge of virtues, for I thought a wife's making an intimate friend of +her husband's mistress was scandalous and mean; but this I was told is +the height of delicacy and generosity. I could not perceive the +propriety of a man's liking two women at the same time, or a woman's +having a platonic attachment for half a dozen lovers; and I owned that I +did not wish divorce could be as easily obtained in England as in +France. All which proved that I have never been out of England--a great +misfortune! I dare say it will soon be discovered that women as well as +madeira cannot be good for anything till they have crossed the line. But +beside the obloquy of having lived only in the best company in England, +I was further disgraced by the discovery, that I am deplorably ignorant +of metaphysics, and have never been enlightened by any philanthropic +transcendental foreign professor of humanity. Profoundly humiliated, and +not having yet taken the first step towards knowledge, the knowing that +I was ignorant, I was pondering upon my sad fate, when Lady Olivia, +putting her hand upon my shoulder, summoned me into the court of love, +there in my own proper person to answer such questions as it should +please her ladyship to ask. For instance:--"Were you ever in love?--How +often?--When?--Where?--And with whom?" + +Never having stood a cross-examination in public upon these points, I +was not quite prepared to reply; and I was accused of giving evasive +answers, and convicted of blushing. Mr L----, who was present at this +examination, enjoyed, in his grave way, my astonishment and confusion, +but said not one word. I rallied my spirits and my wits, and gave some +answers which gained the smile of the court on my side. + +From these specimens you may guess, my dear Margaret, how well this lady +and I are likely to agree. I shall divert myself with her absurdities +without scruple. Yet notwithstanding the flagrancy of these, Leonora +persuades me to think well of Olivia; indeed I am so happy here, that it +would be a difficult matter at present to make me think ill of anybody. +The good qualities which Leonora sees in her are not yet visible to my +eyes; but Leonora's visual orb is so cleared with charity and love, that +she can discern what is not revealed to vulgar sight. Even in the very +germ she discovers the minute form of the perfect flower. _The Olivia_ +will, I hope, in time blow out in full perfection. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xiij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + Monday. + +O my Gabrielle! this Helen is not precisely the person that I expected. +Instead of being a dejected beauty, she is all life and gaiety. + +I own I should like her better if she were a little more pensive; a +tinge of melancholy would, in her situation, be so becoming and natural. +My imagination was quite disappointed when I beheld the quickness of her +eyes and frequency of her smiles. Even her mode of showing affection to +Leonora was not such as could please me. This is the first visit, I +understand, that she has paid Leonora since her marriage:--these friends +have been separated for many months.--I was not present at their +meeting; but I came into the room a few minutes after _Helen's_ arrival, +and I should have thought that they had seen one another but yesterday. +This _dear Helen_ was quite at ease and at home in a few moments, and +seemed as if she had been living with us for years. I make allowance for +the ease of well-bred people. Helen has lived much in the world, and has +polished manners. But the heart--the heart is superior to politeness; +and even ease, in some situations, shows a want of the delicate _tact_ +of sentiment. In a similar situation I should have been silent, +entranced, absorbed, in my sensations--overcome by them, +perhaps--dissolved in tears. But in Helen there appeared no symptoms of +real sensibility--nothing characteristic--nothing profound--nothing +concentrated: it was all superficial, and evaporated in the common way. +I was provoked to see Leonora satisfied. She assures me that Helen has +uncommonly strong affections, and that her character rather exceeds than +is deficient in enthusiasm. Possibly; but I am certain that Helen is in +no danger of becoming romantic. Far from being abstracted, I never saw +any one seem more interested and eager about every present +occurrence--pleased, even to childishness, with every passing trifle. I +confess that she is too much of this world for me. But I will if +possible suspend my judgment, and study her a few hours longer before I +give you my definitive opinion. + + + * * * * * + + Thursday. + +Well, my Gabrielle, my _definitive opinion_ is that I can never love +this friend of Leonora. I said that she had lived much in the world--but +only in the English world: she has never seen any other; therefore, +though quite in a different style from Leonora, she shocks me with the +same nationality. All her ideas are exclusively English: she has what is +called English good sense, and English humour, and English prejudices of +_all sorts_, both masculine and feminine. She takes fire in defence of +her country and of her sex; nay, sometimes blushes even to awkwardness, +which one would not expect in the midst of her good breeding and +vivacity. What a difference between her vivacity and that of my charming +Gabrielle! as great as between the enlargement of your mind and the +limited nature of her understanding. I tried her on various subjects, +but found her intrenched in her own contracted notions. All new, or +liberal, or sublime ideas in morality or metaphysics she either cannot +seize, or seizes only to place in a ridiculous point of view: a certain +sign of mediocrity. Adieu, my Gabrielle. I must send you the pictures, +whether engaging or forbidding, of those with whom your Olivia is +destined to pass her time. When I have no events to relate, still I must +write to convey to you my sentiments. Alas! how imperfectly!--for I have +interdicted myself the expression of those most interesting to my +heart. Leonora, calmly prudent, coolly virtuous, knows not what it costs +me to be faithful to this cruel promise. Write to me, my sympathizing, +my tender friend! + + Your ever unhappy + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xiv. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + July 10th. + +Some very good people, like some very fine pictures, are best at a +distance. But Leonora is not one of these: the nearer you approach the +better you like her, as in arabesque-work you may admire the beauty of +the design even at a distance, but you cannot appreciate the delicacy of +the execution till you examine it closely, and discover that every line +is formed of grains of gold almost imperceptibly fine. I am glad that +the "small sweet courtesies of life" have been hailed by one sentimental +writer at least. The minor virtues are not to be despised even in +comparison with the most exalted. The common rose, I have often thought, +need not be ashamed of itself even in company with the finest exotics in +a hothouse; and I remember, that your brother, in one of his letters, +observed, that the common cock makes a very respectable figure even in +the grand Parisian assembly of all the stuffed birds and beasts in the +universe. It is a glorious thing to have a friend who will jump into a +river, or down a precipice, to save one's life: but as I do not intend +to tumble down precipices, or to throw myself into the water above half +a dozen times, I would rather have for my friends persons who would not +reserve their kindness wholly for these grand occasions, but who could +condescend to make me happy every day, and all day long, even by +actions not sufficiently sublime to be recorded in history or romance. + +Do not infer from this that I think Leonora would hesitate to make +_great_ sacrifices. I have had sufficient experience of her fortitude +and active courage of mind in the most trying circumstances, whilst many +who talked more stoutly shrunk from _committing_ themselves by actions. + +Some maxim-maker says, that past misfortunes are good for nothing but to +be forgotten. I am not of his opinion: I think that they are good to +make us know our winter from our summer friends, and to make us feel for +those who have sustained us in adversity that most pleasurable sensation +of human mind--gratitude. + +But I am straying unawares into the province of sentiment, where I am +such a stranger that I shall inevitably lose my way, especially as I am +too proud to take a guide. Lady Olivia **** may perhaps be very fond of +Leonora: and as she has every possible cause to be so, it is but +reasonable and charitable to suppose that she is: but I should never +guess it by her manner. She speaks of her friendship sometimes in the +most romantic style, but often makes observations upon _the enviable +coolness and imperturbability of Leonora's disposition_, which convinces +me that she does not understand it in the least. Those who do not really +feel always pitch their expressions too high or too low, as deaf people +bellow or speak in a whisper. But I may be mistaken in my suspicions of +Olivia; for _to do the lady justice_, as Mrs Candour would say, she is +so affected that it is difficult to know what she really feels. Those +who put on rouge occasionally are suspected of wearing it constantly, +and never have any credit for their natural colour; presently they +become so accustomed to common rouge, that mistaking scarlet for pale +pink, they persist in laying on more and more, till they are like +nothing human. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +I have found it! I have found it! dear Gabrielle, rejoice with me! I +have solved the metaphysical problem, which perplexed me so cruelly, and +now I am once more at peace with myself. I have discovered the reason +why I cannot love Leonora as she merits to be loved--she has obliged me; +and the nature of obligation is such, that it supposes superiority on +one side, and consequently destroys the equality, the freedom, the ease, +the charm of friendship. Gratitude weighs upon one's heart in proportion +to the delicacy of its feelings. To minds of an ordinary sort it may be +pleasurable, for with them it is sufficiently feeble to be calm; but in +souls of a superior cast, it is a poignant, painful sensation, because +it is too strong ever to be tranquil. In short-- + + "'Tis bliss but to a certain bound-- + Beyond, 'tis agony." + +For my own part, the very dread that I shall not be thought to express +enough deprives me of the power to speak, or even to feel. Fear, you +know, extinguishes affection; and of all fears the dread of not being +sufficiently grateful operates the most powerfully. Thus sensibility +destroys itself.--Gracious Heaven! teach me to moderate mine. + +In the nature of the obligation with which Leonora has oppressed my +heart, there is something peculiarly humiliating. Upon my return to this +country I found the malignant genius of scandal bent upon destroying my +reputation. You have no idea of the miserable force of prejudice which +still prevails here. There are some women who emancipate themselves, but +then unluckily they are not in sufficient numbers to keep each other in +countenance in public. One would not choose to be confined to the +society of people who cannot go to court, though sometimes they take the +lead elsewhere. We are full half a century behind you in civilization; +and your revolution has, I find, afforded all our stiffened moralists +_incontrovertible_ arguments against liberty of opinion or conduct in +either sex. + +I was thunderstruck when I saw the grave and repulsive faces of all my +female acquaintance. At first I attributed everything that was strange +and disagreeable to English reserve, of which I had retained a +sufficiently formidable idea: but I presently found that there was some +other cause which kept all these nice consciences at a distance from my +atmosphere. + +Would you believe it, I saw myself upon the point of being quite +excluded from good society. Leonora saved me from this imminent danger. +Voluntarily, and I must say nobly, if not gracefully, Leonora came +forward in my defence. Vanquishing her natural English timidity, she +braved the eyes, and tongues, and advice of all the prudes and old +dowagers my enemies, amongst whom I may count the superannuated duchess +her mother, the proudest dowager now living. When I appeared in public +with a personage of Leonora's unblemished reputation, scandal, much +against her will, was forced to be silent, and it was to be taken for +granted that I was, in the language of prudery, perfectly innocent. +Leonora, to be consistent in goodness, or to complete her triumph in the +face of the world, invited me to accompany her to the country.----I have +now been some weeks at this superb castle. Heaven is my witness that I +came with a heart overflowing with affection; but the painful, the +agonizing sense of humiliation mixed with my tenderest sentiments, and +all became bitterness insufferable. O Gabrielle! you, and perhaps you +alone upon earth, can understand my feelings. Adieu!--pity me--I must +not ask you a single question about----I must not write the name for +ever dear--What am I saying? where are my promises?--Adieu!--Adieu! + + Your unhappy + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xvi. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + July 16th. + +As I have never thought it my duty in this mortal life to mourn for the +absurdities of my fellow-creatures, I should now enjoy the pleasure of +laughing at Lady Olivia, if my propensity were not checked by a serious +apprehension that she will injure Leonora's happiness. From the most +generous motives dear Leonora is continually anxious to soothe her mind, +to persuade and reason her into common sense, to re-establish her in +public opinion, and to make her happy. But I am convinced that Lady +Olivia never will have common sense, and consequently never can be +happy. Twenty times a day I wish her at the antipodes, for I dread lest +Leonora should be implicated in her affairs, and involved in her misery. + +Last night this foolish woman, who unluckily is graced with all the +power of words, poured forth a fine declamation in favour of divorce. In +vain Leonora reasoned, expostulated, blushed. Lady Olivia cannot blush +for herself; and though both Mr L---- and I were present, she persisted +with that vehemence which betrays personal interest in an argument. I +suspect that she is going to try to obtain a divorce from her husband, +that she may marry her lover. Consider the consequences of this for +Leonora.--Leonora to be the friend of a woman who will brave the infamy +of a trial at Doctors' Commons! But Leonora says I am mistaken, and that +all this is only Olivia's way of talking. I wish then, that, if she does +not intend to act like a fool, she would not talk like one. I agree with +the gentleman who said that a woman who begins by playing the fool, +always ends by playing the devil. Even before me, though I certainly +never solicit her confidence, Lady Olivia talks with the most imprudent +openness of her love affairs; not, I think, from ingenuousness, but from +inability to restrain herself. Begin what subject of conversation I +will, as far from Cupid as possible, she will bring me back again to him +before I know where I am. She has no ideas but on this one subject. +Leonora, dear kind-hearted Leonora, attributes this to the temporary +influence of a violent passion, which she assures me Olivia will +conquer, and that then all her great and good qualities will, as if +freed from enchantment, re-assume their natural vigour. +_Natural!_--there is nothing natural about this sophisticated lady. I +wish Leonora would think more of herself and less of other people. As to +Lady Olivia's excessive sensibility, I have no faith in it. I do not +think either the lover or the passion so much to be feared for her, as +the want of a lover and the habit of thinking that it is necessary to be +in love. * * * * * * * * * + + Yours affectionately, + _Helen C----._ + + + + + Letter xvij. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Paris, Hôtel de Courlande. + + My dear L----, + +When you ask a countryman in England the way to the next town, he +replies, "Where do you come from, master?" and till you have answered +this question, no information can you obtain from him. You ask me what I +know of Lady Olivia ----. What is your reason for asking? Till you have +answered this question, hope for no information from me. Seriously, Lady +Olivia had left Paris before I arrived, therefore you cannot have my +judgment of her ladyship, which I presume is all you could depend upon. +If you will take hearsay evidence, and if you wish me to speak to +general character, I can readily satisfy you. Common repute is loud and +unanimous in favour of her talents, beauty, and fashion: there is no +resisting, I am told, the fascination of her manners and conversation; +_but_ her opinions are fashionably liberal, and her practice as liberal +as her theories. Since her separation from her husband, her lover is +publicly named. Some English friends plead in her favour platonic +attachment: this, like benefit of clergy, is claimed of course for a +first offence: but Lady Olivia's Parisian acquaintance are not so +scrupulous or so old-fashioned as to think it an offence; they call it +an _arrangement_, and to this there can be no objection. As a French +gentleman said to me the other day, with an unanswerable shrug, "Tout le +monde sait que R*** est son amant; d'ailleurs, c'est la femme la plus +aimable du monde." + +As to Lady Olivia's friend, Mad. de P----, she sees a great deal of +company: her house is the resort of people of various descriptions; +ministers, foreigners, coquettes, and generals; in short, of all those +who wish without scandal or suspicion to intrigue either in love or +politics. Her assemblies are also frequented by a few of _l'ancien +régime_, who wish to be in favour with the present government. Mad. de +P----, of a noble family herself, and formerly much at court, has +managed matters so as to have regained all her husband's confiscated +property, and to have acquired much influence with some of the leading +men of the day. In her manners and conversation there is an odd mixture +of frivolity and address, of the airs of coquetry and the jargon of +sentiment. She has the politeness of a French countess, with _exquisite_ +knowledge of the world and of _les convenances_, joined to that freedom +of opinion which marks the present times. In the midst of all these +inconsistencies, it is difficult to guess what her real character may +be. At first sight, I should pronounce her to be a silly woman, governed +by vanity and the whim of the moment: but those who know her better than +I do believe her to be a woman of considerable talents, inordinately +fond of power, and uniformly intent upon her own interest, using +coquetry only as a means to govern our sex, and frivolity as a mask for +her ambition. In short, Mad. de P---- is a perfect specimen of the +combination of an _intrigante_ and an _élégante_, a combination often +found in Paris. Here women mingle politics and gallantry--men mix +politics and epicurism--which is the better mixture? + +I have business of importance to my country to transact to-day, +_therefore_ I am going to dine with the modern Apicius. Excuse me, my +dear friend, if I cannot stay at present to answer your questions about +divorce. I must be punctual. What sort of a negociator can he make who +is too late at a minister's dinner? Five minutes might change the face +of Europe. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xviij. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +My incomparable Olivia! your letters are absolutely divine. I am +_maussade_, I _vegetate_. I cannot be said to live the days when I do +not hear from you. Last Thursday I was disappointed of one of these dear +letters, and _Brave-et-tendre_ told me frankly that I was so little +amiable he should not have known me.--As to the rest, pardon me for not +writing punctually: I have been really in a chaos of business and +pleasure, and I do not know which fatigues most. But I am obliged to +attend the ministers every day, for the sake of my friends. + +A thousand and a thousand thanks for your pictures of your English +friends: sketches by a masterly hand must be valuable, whatever the +subject. I would rather have the pictures than the realities. Your Helen +and your Lady Leonora are too good for me, and I pity you from my soul +for being shut up in that old castle. I suppose it is like an old castle +in Dauphiny, where I once spent a week, and where I was nearly +frightened to death by the flapping of the old tapestry behind my bed, +and by the bats which flew in through the broken windows. They say, +however, that our _châteaux_ and yours are something different. Of this +I have no clear conception. + +I send you three comforters in your prison--a billet-doux, a new novel, +and a pattern of my sandal: a billet-doux from R*** says everything for +itself; but I must say something for the new novel. Zenobie, which I now +send you, is the declared rival of Seraphine. Parties have run high on +both sides, and applications were made and inuendoes discovered, and wit +and sentiment came to close combat; and, as usual, people talked till +they did not understand themselves. For a fortnight, wherever one went +the first words to be heard on entering every _salon_ were Seraphine and +Zenobie.--Peace or war.--Mlle. Georges and Mlle. Duchesnois were +nothing to Seraphine and Zenobie. For Heaven's sake tell me which you +prefer! But I fear they will be no more talked of before I have your +answer. To say the truth, I am tired of both heroines, for a fortnight +is too long to talk or think of any one thing. + +I flatter myself you will like my sandals: they are my own invention, +and my foot really shows them to advantage. You know I might say, as Du +P*** said of himself, "J'ai un pied dont la petitesse échappe à la +vitesse de la pensée." I thought my poor friend Mad. Dumarais would have +died with envy, the other day, when I appeared in them at her ball, +which, by the by, was in all its decorations as absurd and in as bad +taste as usual. For the most part these _nouveaux riches_ lavish money, +but can never purchase taste or a sense of propriety. All is gold: but +that is not enough; or rather that is too much.--In spite of all that +both the Indies, China, Arabia, Egypt, and even Paris can do for them, +they will be ever out of place, in the midst of their magnificence: they +will never even know how to ruin themselves nobly. They must live and +die as they were born, ridiculous. Now I would rather not exist than +feel myself ridiculous. But I believe no one living, not even le petit +d'Heronville, knows himself to be an object of ridicule. There are no +looking-glasses for the mind, and I question whether we should use them +if there were. D'Heronville is just as you left him, and as much my +amusement as he used to be yours. He goes on with an eternal galimatias +of patriotism, with such a self-sufficient air and decided tone! never +suspecting that he says only what other people make him say, and that he +is listened to, only to find out what _some people_ think. Many will say +before fools what they would not hazard before wise men; not considering +that fools can repeat as well as parrots. I once heard a great man +remark that the only spies fit to be trusted are those who do not know +themselves to be such, who have no salary but what their vanity pays +them, and who are employed without being accredited. + +But trève de politique!--My charming Olivia, I know, abhors politics as +much as I detest metaphysics, from all lips or pens but hers. Now I must +tell you something of your friends here. + +O---- talks nonsense as agreeably as ever, and dances as divinely. 'Tis +a pity he cannot always dance, for then he would not ruin himself at +play. He wants me to get him a regiment--as if I had any power!--or as +if I would use it for this purpose, when I know that my interesting +friend Mad. Q---- would break her poor little heart if he were to quit +her. + +_Mon Coeur_ is as pretty as ever; but she is now in affliction. She has +lost her dear little dog Corisonde. He died suddenly; almost in her +arms! She will erect a monument to him in her charming _jardin Anglois_. +This will occupy her, and then "Time, the comforter"--Inimitable +Voltaire! + +Our dear _Brillante_ has just had a superb _hommage_ from her lover the +commissary--a necklace and bracelets of the finest pearls: but she +cannot wear them yet: her brother having died last week, she is in deep +mourning. This brother was not upon good terms with her. He never +forgave the divorce. He thought it a disgrace to have a sister _une +divorcée_; but he was full of prejudice, poor man, and he is dead, and +we need think no more of him or of his faults. + +Our ci-devant chanoine, who married that little Meudon, is as miserable +as possible, and as ridiculous: for he is jealous of his young wife, and +she is a _franche-coquette_. The poor man looks as if he repented +sincerely of his errors. What a penitent a coquette can make of a +husband! Bourdaloue and Massillon would have tried their powers on this +man's heart in vain. + +Did I tell you that Mad. G---- is a second time divorced? But this time +it is her husband's doing, not hers. This handsome husband has spent all +the immense fortune she brought him, and now procures a divorce for +_incompatibility of temper_, and is going to marry another lady, richer +than Mad. G----, and as great a fool. This system of divorce, though +convenient, is not always advantageous to women. However, in one point +of view, I wonder that the rigid moralists do not defend it, as the only +means of making a man in love with his own wife. A man divorces; the law +does not permit him to marry the same woman afterwards; of course this +prohibition makes him fall in love with her. Of this we have many +edifying examples besides Fanchette, who, though she was so beautiful, +and a tolerable actress, would never have drawn all Paris to the +Vaudeville if she had not been a _divorcée_, and if it had not been +known that her husband, who played the lover of the piece, was dying to +marry her again. Apropos, Mad. St Germain is acting one of her own +romances, in the high sublime style, and threatens to poison herself for +love of her perjured inconstant--but it will not do. + +Madame _la Grande_ was near having a sad accident the other night: in +crossing the Pont-neuf her horses took fright; for there was a crowd and +_embarras_, a man having just drowned himself--not for love, but for +hunger. How many men, women, and children, do you think, drowned +themselves in the Seine last year? Upwards of two hundred. This is +really shocking, and a stop should be put to it by authority. It +absolutely makes me shudder and reflect; but _après nous le déluge_ was +La Pompadour's maxim, and should be ours. + +Mad. Folard _se coiffe en cheveux_, and Mad. Rocroix crowns herself with +roses, whilst all the world knows that either of them is old enough to +be my mother. In former days a woman could not wear flowers after +thirty, and was _bel esprit_ or _dévote_ at forty, for it was thought +bad taste to do otherwise. But now everybody may be as young as they +please, or as ridiculous. Women have certainly gained by the new order +of things. + +Our poor friend _Vermeille_ se meurt de la poitrine--a victim to tea and +late hours. She is an interesting creature, and my heart bleeds for her: +she will never last till winter. + +Do you know, it is said, we shall soon have no wood to burn. What can +have become of all our forests? People should inquire after them. The +Venus de Medicis has at last found her way down the Seine. It is not +determined yet where to place her: but she is at Paris, and that is a +great point gained for her. You complained that the Apollo stands with +his back so near the wall, that there is no seeing half the beauties of +his shoulders. If I have any influence, Venus shall not be so served. I +have been to see her. She is certainly divine--but not French. I do not +despair of seeing her surpassed by our artists. + +Adieu, my adorable Olivia. I should have finished my letter yesterday; +but when I came home in the morning, expecting to have a moment sacred +to you and friendship, who should I find established in an arm-chair in +my cabinet but our old countess _Ci-devant_. There was no retreat for +me. In the midst of my concentrated rage I was obliged to advance and +embrace her, and there was an end of happiness for the day. The pitiless +woman kept me till it was even too late to dress, talking over her +family misfortunes; as if they were anything to me. She wants to get her +son employed, but her pride will not let her pay her court properly, and +she wants me to do it for her. Not I, truly. I should shut my doors +against her but for the sake of her nephew _le roué_, who is really a +pretty young man. My angel, I embrace you tenderly. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter xix. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +How melancholy to a feeling heart is the moment when illusion vanishes, +whether that illusion has been created by the magic of love or of +friendship! How many such moments, Gabrielle, has your unfortunate +friend been doomed to endure! Alas! when will treacherous fancy cease to +throw a deceitful brilliancy upon each new object! + +Perhaps I am too delicate--but R***'s note, enclosed in your last, my +Gabrielle, was unlike his former letters. It was not passionate, it was +only reasonable. A man who can reason is no longer in love. The manner +in which he speaks of divorce shocked me beyond expression. Is it for +him to talk of scruples when upon this subject I have none? I own to you +that my pride and my tenderness are sensibly wounded. Is it for him to +convince me that I am in the wrong? I shall not be at ease till I hear +from you again, my amiable friend: for my residence here becomes +insupportable. But a few short weeks are past since I fancied Leonora an +angel, and now she falls below the ordinary standard of mortals. But a +few short weeks are past since, in the full confidence of finding in +Leonora a second self, a second Gabrielle, I eagerly developed to her my +inmost soul; yet now my heart closes, I fear never more to open. The sad +conviction, that we have but few ideas, and no feelings in common, stops +my tongue when I attempt to speak, chills my heart when I begin to +listen. + +Do you know, my Gabrielle, I have discovered that Leonora is +inordinately selfish? For all other faults I have charity; but +selfishness, which has none to give, must expect none. O divine +sensibility, defend me from this isolation of the heart! All thy +nameless sorrows, all thy heart-rending tortures, would I a thousand +times rather endure. Leonora's selfishness breaks out perpetually; and, +alas! it is of the most inveterate, incurable kind: everything that is +immediately or remotely connected with self she loves, and loves with +the most provoking pertinacity. Her mother, her husband, she adores, +because they are her own; and even her sister's children, because she +considers them, she says, as her own. All and every possible portion of +self she cherishes with the most sordid partiality. All that touches +these relations touches her; and everything which is theirs, or, in +other words, which is hers, she deems excellent and sacred. Last night I +just hazarded a word of ridicule upon some of the obsolete prejudices of +that august personage, that duchess of old tapestry, her still living +ancestor. I wish, Gabrielle, you had seen Leonora's countenance. Her +colour rose up to her temples, her eyes lightened with indignation, and +her whole person assumed a dignity, which might have killed a +presumptuous lover, or, better far, might have enslaved him for life. +What folly to waste all this upon such an occasion. But selfishness is +ever blind to its real interests. Leonora is so bigoted to this old +woman, that she is already in mind an old woman herself. She fancies +that she traces a resemblance to her mother, and of course to dear self, +in her infant, and she looks upon it with such doting eyes, and talks to +it with such exquisite tones of fondness, as are to me, who know the +source from which they proceed, quite ridiculous and disgusting. An +infant, who has no imaginable merit, and, to impartial eyes, no charms, +she can love to this excess from no motive but pure _egotism_. Then her +husband--but this subject I must reserve for another letter. I am +summoned to walk with him this moment. + +Adieu, charming Gabrielle. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xx. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Paris, 180--. + + My dear L----, + +Enclosed I send you, according to your earnest desire, Cambaceres' +reflections upon the intended new law of divorce. Give me leave to ask +why you are so violently interested upon this occasion? Do you envy +France this blessing? Do you wish that English husbands and wives should +have the power of divorcing each other at pleasure for _incompatibility +of temper_? And have you calculated the admirable effect this would +produce upon the temper both of the weaker and the stronger sex? To bear +and forbear would then be no longer necessary. Every happy pair might +quarrel and part at a moment's notice--at a year's notice at most. And +their children? The wisdom of Solomon would be necessary to settle the +just division of the children. I have this morning been attending a +court of law to hear a famous trial between two husbands: the abdicated +lord a ci-devant noble, and the reigning husband a ci-devant +grand-vicaire, who has _reformed_. Each party claimed a right to the +children by the first marriage, for the children were minors entitled to +large fortunes. The _reformed_ grand-vicaire pleaded his own cause with +astonishing assurance, amidst the discountenancing looks, murmurs, and +almost amidst the groans of disapprobation from the majority of the +auditors. His powers of impudence, however, failed him at last. I sat on +the bench behind him, and saw that his ears had the grace to blush. +After another hearing, this cause, which had lasted four years, was +decided: and the first husband and real father was permitted to have the +guardianship of his own children. During the four years' litigation, the +friends of the parties, from the grandmother downwards, were all at +irreconcileable variance. What became of the children all this time? +Their mother was represented during the trial as she deserved to be, as +a wretch void of shame and gratitude. The father was universally pitied, +though his rival painted him as a coward, who during the revolution had +left his children to save himself by flight; and as a fool, who had left +his wife to the care of a profligate grand-vicaire. Divorce is not +countenanced by opinion in Paris, though permitted by law. With a few +exceptions in extraordinary cases, I have observed that _les divorcées_ +are not received into good society. + +To satiate your curiosity, I send you all the papers that have been +written lately on this subject, of which you will find that of +Cambaceres the best. The wits say that he is an impartial judge. I +presume you want these pamphlets for some foolish friend; for yourself +you can never want them, blessed as you are with such a wife as Lady +Leonora L----. I am not surprised that profligate men should wish for +freedom of divorce, because it would save them damages in Doctors' +Commons: but you rather astonish me--if a wise man should be astonished +at anything in these days--by assuring me that you have lately heard +this system eloquently defended by a female philosopher. What can women +expect from it but contempt? Next to polygamy, it would prove the most +certain method of destroying the domestic happiness of the sex, as well +as their influence and respectability in society. But some of the dear +creatures love to talk of what they do not understand, and usually show +their eloquence to the greatest advantage, by taking the wrong side of a +question. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + Letter xxi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +From selfishness to jealousy there is but one step, or rather there is +none; for jealousy of a certain sort is but selfishness in another form. +How different this passion as I have felt it, and as I see it shown! In +some characters it is the symptom of amiable and exquisite sensibility; +in others of odious coldness and contraction of heart. In some of our +sex it is, you know, my Gabrielle, a delicate fear, a tender anxiety, a +proof of ardent passion; in others it is a mere love of power, a +disgusting struggle for the property of a heart, an absurd assertion of +rights and prerogatives. Surely no prejudice of education or institution +can be more barbarous than that which teaches a wife that she has an +indefeasible and exclusive right both to the affections and the fidelity +of her husband. I am astonished to hear it avowed by any woman who has +the slightest pretensions to delicacy of sentiment, or liberality of +mind. I should expect to find this vulgar prejudice only among the +downright dames, who talk of _my good man_, and lay a particular +emphasis on the possessive pronoun _my_; who understand literally, and +expect that their spouses should adhere punctually to every coarse +article of our strange marriage vow. + +In certain points of view, my Gabrielle, jealousy is undoubtedly the +strongest proof of an indelicate mind. Yet, if I mistake not, the +delicate, the divine Leonora, is liable to this terrestrial passion. +Yesterday evening, as I was returning from a _stroll_ in the park with +Mr L----, we met Leonora; and methought she looked embarrassed at +meeting us. Heaven knows there was not the slightest occasion for +embarrassment, and I could not avoid being surprised at such weakness, I +had almost said folly, in a woman of Leonora's sense, especially as she +knows how my heart is attached. In the first moments of our intimacy my +confidence was unbounded, as it ever is in those I love. Aware as I was +of the light in which the prejudices of her education and her country +make her view such connexions, yet I scrupled not, with the utmost +candour, to confess the unfortunate attachment which had ruled my +destiny. After this confidence, do not suspicion and jealousy on her +part appear strange? Were Mr L---- and I shut up for life in the same +prison, were we left together upon a desert island, were we alone in the +universe, I could never think of him. And Leonora does not see this! How +the passions obscure and degrade the finest understandings. But perhaps +I do her injustice, and she felt nothing of what her countenance +expressed. It is certain, however, that she was silent for some moments +after she joined us, from what cause she knows best--so was Mr L----, I +suppose from English awkwardness--so was I, from pure astonishment. At +length, in pity of Leonora, I broke the silence. I had recourse to the +beauties of nature. + +"What a heavenly evening!" said I. "We have been listening to the song +of the birds, enjoying this fresh breeze of nature's perfumes." Leonora +said something about the superiority of nature's perfumes to those of +art; and observed, "how much more agreeable the smell of flowers appears +in the open air than in confined rooms." Whilst she spoke she looked at +her husband, as she continually does, for assent and approbation. He +assented, but apparently without knowing what he was saying; and only by +one of his English monosyllables. I alone was at ease. + +"Can anything be more beautiful," continued I, looking back, "than the +soft mellow foliage of those woods, and the exquisite tints of their +rich colouring? What delicious melancholy such an evening spreads over +the heart!--what reflections!--what recollections!--O Leonora, look at +the lights upon that mountain, and the deep shadows upon the lake below. +Just such scenes have I admired, by such have I been entranced in +Switzerland." + +Leonora put her arm within mine--she seemed to have no objection to my +thoughts going back to Switzerland--I sighed--she pressed my hand +affectionately--I wiped the starting tear from my eye. Mr L---- looked +at me with something like surprise whilst I repeated involuntarily-- + + "I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you, + For morn is approaching your charms to restore, + Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew." + +I paused, recollecting myself, struck with _the ridicule_ of repeating +verses, and of indulging feelings in which no one perhaps sympathized. + +"Those are beautiful lines," said Leonora: "that poem has always been a +favourite of mine." + +"And of mine, also," said Mr L----. + +"I prefer Beattie's Hermit to all other hermits," said Leonora. + +I was not in a mood calmly to discuss with her a point of criticism--I +walked on in reverie: but in this I was not allowed to indulge. Mr L---- +asked if I could not recollect some more of the Hermit--I pleaded the +worst memory in the world--a memory that can never recollect any poem +perfectly by rote, only the touches of genius or sensibility that strike +me--and those are so few! + +"But in this poem there are so many," said Leonora. I am sure she +insisted only to please her husband, and pleaded against her real +feelings purposely to conceal them. He persisted in his request, with +more warmth than usual. I was compelled to rouse myself from my reverie, +and to call back my distant thoughts. I repeated all that I could +recollect of the poem. Mr L---- paid me a profusion of compliments upon +the sweetness of my voice, and my taste in reciting. He was pleased to +find that my manner and tones gave an Italian expression to English +poetry, which to him was a peculiar charm. It reminded him of some +signora, whom he had known at Florence. This was the first time I had +learned that he had been abroad. I was going to explore the foreign +field of conversation which he thus opened; but just at that moment +Leonora withdrew her arm from mine, and I fancied that she coloured. +This might be only my fancy, or the natural effect of her stooping to +gather a flower. We were now within sight of the castle. I pointed to +one of the turrets over a Gothic window, upon which the gleams of the +setting sun produced a picturesque effect; my glove happened to be off, +and Leonora unluckily saw that her husband's eyes were fixed upon my +arm, instead of the turret to which I was pointing. 'Twas a trifle which +I never should have noticed, had she not forced it upon my attention. +She actually turned pale. I had the presence of mind not to put on my +glove. + +I must observe more accurately; I must decide whether this angelic +Leonora is or is not susceptible of the mortal passion ycleped jealousy. +I confess my curiosity is awakened. + +Adieu, my ever amiable Gabrielle. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +When the passions are asleep we are apt to fancy they are dead. I verily +thought that curiosity was dead within me, it had lain so long dormant +while stronger and tenderer sentiments waked in full activity; but now +that absence and distance from their object lull them to temporary +repose, the vulgar subordinate passions are roused, and take their turn +to reign. My curiosity was so strongly excited upon the subject of +Leonora's jealousy, that I could not rest, without attempting to obtain +satisfaction. Blame me not, dearest Gabrielle, for in my situation you +would inevitably have done the same, only that you would have done it +with more address; with that peculiar, inimitable address, which I envy +above all your accomplishments. But address is a delicate native of +France, and though it may now and then exist as a stranger, I doubt +whether it can ever be naturalized in our rude climate. All the attempts +I have made are, however, encouraging enough--you shall judge. My object +was, to ascertain the existence or non-existence of Leonora's jealousy. +I set about it with a tolerably careless assurance, and followed up the +hint, which accident had thrown out for my ingenuity to work upon. You +remember, or at least I remember, that Leonora withdrew her arm from +mine, and stooped to gather a flower at the moment when her husband +mentioned Florence, and the resemblance of my voice to that of some +Italian charmer. The next day I happened to play some of my sweetest +Italian airs, and to accompany them with my voice. The music-room opens +into the great hall: Leonora and her husband were in the hall, talking +to some visitors. The voices were soon hushed, as I expected, by the +magic sounds, but, what I did not expect, Leonora was the first who led +the way into the music-room. Was this affectation? These _simple_ +characters sometimes baffle all the art of the decipherer. I should have +been clear that it was affectation, had Leonora been prodigal of +compliments on my performance; but she seemed only to listen for her own +pleasure, and left it to Mr L---- to applaud. Whilst I was preparing to +play over again the air which pleased him most, the two little nephews +came running to beg Leonora would follow them to look at some trifle, +some coloured shadow, upon the garden-wall, I think they said: she let +them lead her off, leaving _us_ together. This did not seem like +jealousy. I was more at a loss than ever, and determined to make fresh +and more decisive experiments. Curiosity, you know, is heightened by +doubt. To cure myself of curiosity it is necessary therefore to put my +mind out of doubt. Admire the practical application of metaphysics! But +metaphysics always make you yawn. Adieu for to-day. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxiij. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Dear Margaret, an uncle of mine, who ever since I can remember seemed to +me cut out for an old bachelor, writes me word that he is just going to +be married, and that I must grace his nuptials. I cannot refuse, for he +has always been very kind to me, and we have no right to cut people out +for old bachelors. That I am sorry to leave Leonora it is superfluous to +tell you; but this is the melancholy part of the business, on which I +make it a principle to dwell as little as possible. + +Lady Olivia must be heartily glad that I am going, for I have been +terribly troublesome to her by my gaiety and my _simplicity_. I shall +lose all the pleasure I had promised myself in seeing the _dénouement_ +of the comedy of _The Sentimental Coquette_, or, _The Heroine Unmasked_. + +I made Leonora almost angry with me this morning, by a hint or two I +gave upon this subject. She looked so very grave, that I was afraid of +my own thoughts, and I dared not explain myself farther. Intimate as I +am with her, there are points on which I am sure that she would never +make me her confidante. I think that she has not been in her usual good +spirits lately; and though she treats Olivia with uniform kindness, and +betrays not, even to my watchful eyes, the slightest symptom of +jealousy, yet I suspect that she sees what is going forward, and she +suffers in secret. Now if she would let me explain myself, I could set +her heart at ease, by the assurance that Mr L---- is only acting a part. +If her affection for her husband did not almost blind her, she would +have as much penetration as I have--which you will allow, my dear +Margaret, is saying a great deal. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xxiv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Congratulate me, my charming Gabrielle, upon being delivered from the +unfeeling gaiety of that friend of Leonora, that Helen of whom I +formerly sent you a too flattering portrait. Her departure relieves me +from many painful sensations. Dissonance to a musical ear is not more +horrid than want of harmony between characters to the soul of +sensibility. Between Helen and me there was a perpetual discord of ideas +and sentiments, which fatigued me inexpressibly. Besides, I began to +consider her as a spy upon my actions. But there, I believe, I did her +injustice, for she was too much occupied with her own trifling thoughts +to have any alarming powers of observation. + +Since her departure we have been very gay. Yesterday we had a large +company at dinner; some of the neighbouring families, whom I expected to +find mere country visitors, that were come a dozen miles to show their +antediluvian finery, retire half an hour after dinner, spoil coffee with +cream, say nothing, but at their appointed hours rise, ring for their +superb carriages, and go home by moonlight. However, to my astonishment, +I found myself in a society of well-bred, well-informed persons; the +women ready to converse, and the men, even after dinner, not impatient +to get rid of them. Two or three of the company had travelled, and I was +glad to talk to them of Italy, Switzerland, and France. Mr L---- I knew +would join in this conversation. I discovered that he came to Florence +just as I was leaving it. I was to have been at our ambassador's one +evening when he was there; but a headache prevented me. These little +coincidences, you know, my Gabrielle, draw people closer together. I +remember to have heard of a Mr L---- at Florence, who was a passionate +admirer of our sex. He was then unmarried. I little thought that this +was the same person. Beneath a cold exterior these Englishmen often +conceal a wondrous quantity of enthusiasm--volcanoes under snow. +Curiosity, dear indefatigable curiosity, supported me through the labour +of clearing away the snow, and I came to indubitable traces of +unextinguished and unextinguishable fire. The character of L---- is +quite different from what I had imagined it to be. It is _an excellent +study_. We had a long and interesting conversation upon national +manners, especially upon those of the females of all nations. He +concluded by quoting the words of your friend M. le Vicomte de Segur, +"If I were permitted to choose, I should prefer a French woman for my +friend, an English woman for my wife, and a Polish lady for my +mistress." + +From this, it seems, that I am mistaken about the Italian signora, or +else Mr L---- has an enlarged charity for the graces of all +nations.--More subject for curiosity. + +In the evening, before the company separated, we were standing on the +steps of the great hall, looking at a fine effect of moonlight, and I +pointed out the shadow of the arches of a bridge. From moonlight we went +on to lamplight, and many pretty things were said about art and nature. +A gentleman, who had just returned from Paris, talked of the reflection +of the lamps in the Seine, which one sees in crossing the Pont-Royal, +and which, as he said, appear like a colonnade of fire. As soon as he +had finished _prosing_ about his colonnade, I turned to Mr L----, and +asked if he remembered the account which Coxe the traveller gives of +the Polish princess Czartoryski's charming _fête champêtre_ and the +illuminated rustic bridge of one arch, the reflection of which in the +water was so strong as to deceive the eye, and to give the whole the +appearance of a brilliant circle suspended in the air. Mr L---- seemed +enchanted with my description, and eagerly said that he would some night +have a bridge in his improvements illuminated, that _we_ (half-gallant +Englishman!) might see the effect. I carelessly replied, that probably +it would have a good effect: I would then have talked on other subjects +to the lady next me: but an Englishman cannot suddenly change the course +of his conversation. Mr L---- still persisted in asking a variety of +questions about this Polish fête. I excused myself: for if you satisfy +curiosity you are no longer sublime; besides it is so pedantic to +remember _accurately_ anything one meets with in books. I assured him +that I had forgotten the particulars. + +My countrymen are wondrous persevering, when once roused. This morning, +when I came down to breakfast, I found Mr L---- with a volume of Coxe's +travels in his hand. He read aloud to Leonora the whole description of +the illuminated gardens, and of a Turkish tent of curious workmanship, +and of a pavilion supported by pillars ornamented with wreaths of +flowers. Leonora's birthday is some time in the next month; and her +husband, probably to prevent any disagreeable little feelings, proposed +that the _fête champêtre_ he designed to give should be on that day. She +seemed rather to discourage the thing. Now to what should this +indifference be attributed? To jealousy I should positively decide, but +that two reasons oppose this idea, and keep me in doubt. She was not +within hearing at the moonlight conference, and knew nothing of my +having mentioned the Polish fête, or of her husband's having proposed to +illuminate the bridge for me. Besides, I remember the other day when +she was reading the new French novel you sent me, she expressed great +dislike to the sentimental fêtes which the lover prepares for his +mistress. I would give more than I dare tell you, my dear Gabrielle, to +be able to decide whether she is jealous of me or not. But where was +I?--Mr L----, who had set his heart upon the _fête champêtre_, +persisted, and combatted her antipathy by reason. Foolish man! he should +have tried compliments, or caresses--if I had not been present. + +"My dear Leonora," said he, "I think you carry your dislike to these +things too far. They are more according to the French than to the +English taste, I know; but we should not be influenced by national +prejudice. I detest the ostentation and the affectation of sentiment as +much as you can; but where the real feeling exists, every mode of +showing kindness is agreeable. You must let us have this little fête on +your birthday. Besides the pleasure it will give me, I really think it +is useful to mix ideas of affection with amusement." + +She smiled most graciously, and replied, that she would with pleasure +accept of kindness in any form from him. In short, she was willing to +have the fête, when it was clearly explained that she was to be the +object of it. Is not this proof positive of jealousy? And yet my +curiosity is not thoroughly satisfied. I must go on; for Leonora's sake +I must go on. When I have been assured of the truth, I shall know how to +conduct myself; and you, who know my heart, will do me the justice to +believe, that when I am convinced of my friend's weakness, I shall spare +it with the most delicate caution: but till I am convinced, I am in +perpetual danger of blundering by my careless, inadvertent innocence. +You smile, Gabrielle; dear malicious Gabrielle, even in your malice you +are charming! Adieu! Pray for the speedy extinction of my curiosity. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxv. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + +You say, my dearest mother, that of late my letters have been more +constrained and less cheerful than usual, and you conjure me not to +conceal from you anything which may concern my happiness. I have ever +found you my best and most indulgent friend, and there is not a thought +or feeling of my mind, however weak or foolish, that I desire to conceal +from you. No one in this world is more--is so much interested in my +happiness; and in every doubtful situation I have always been accustomed +to apply to your unerring judgment for assistance. Your strength of +mind, your enlightened affection, would support and direct me, would at +once show me how I ought to act, and inspire me with courage and +fortitude sufficient to be worthy of your esteem, and of my own. At no +period of my life, not even when my heart first felt the confused +sensations of a passion that was new to it, did I ever want or wish for +a friend so much as at this instant: and yet I hesitate whether I ought +to ask even your advice, whether I ought to indulge myself in speaking +of my feelings even to my mother. I refrained from giving the slightest +intimation of them to my dear Helen, though she often led to this +subject, and seemed vexed by my reserve. I thought it not right to +accept of her sympathy. From her kindness I had every consolation to +expect, but no assistance from her counsels, because she does not +understand Mr L----'s character, and I could plainly perceive that she +had an erroneous idea so fixed in her fancy, as to prevent her seeing +things in their true light. I am afraid of imputing blame where I most +wish to avoid it: I fear to excite unjust suspicions; I dread that if I +say the whole you will imagine that I mean much more than I say. + +I have not been quite well lately, and my mind probably is more apt to +be alarmed than it would be if my health were stronger. All that I +apprehend may exist merely in my own distempered imagination. Do not +then suppose others are to blame, when perhaps I only am in fault. I +have for some time past been dissatisfied with myself, and have had +reason to be so; I do not say this from any false humility; I despise +that affectation; but I say it with a sincere desire, that you may +assist me to cure myself of a weakness, which, if it were to grow upon +my mind, must render me miserable, and might destroy the happiness of +the person I love best upon earth. You know that I am not naturally or +habitually of a suspicious temper, but I am conscious of having lately +felt a disposition to jealousy. I have been spoiled by the excessive +attention which my husband paid to me in the first year of our marriage. + +You warned me not to fancy that he could continue always a lover. I did +not, at least I tried not to expect such an impossibility. I was +prepared for the change, at least I thought I was: yet now the time, the +inevitable time is come, and I have not the fortitude to bear it as I +ought. If I had never known what it was to possess his love, I might +perhaps be content with his friendship. If I could feel only friendship +for him, I should now, possibly, be happy. I know that I have the first +place in his esteem: I do believe--I should be miserable indeed if I +did not believe--that I have the first place in his affection. But this +affection is certainly different from what it once was. I wish I could +forget the difference. No: I retract that wish; however painful the +comparison, the recollection of times that are past is delightful to my +heart. Yet, my dear mother, if such times are never to return, it would +be better for me to forget that they have ever been. It would be wiser +not to let my imagination recur to the past, which could then tend only +to render me discontented with the present and with the future. The +FUTURE! how melancholy that word sounds to me! What a dreary length of +prospect it brings to my view! How young I am, how many years may I have +to live, and how little motive have I left in life! Those which used to +act most forcibly upon me, have now scarcely power to move my mind. The +sense of duty, it is true, raises me to some degree of exertion; I hope +that I do not neglect the education of the two children whom my poor +sister bequeathed to my care. When my mind was at ease, they were my +delight; but now I feel that I am rather interrupted than interested by +their childish gaiety and amusements. + +I am afraid that I am growing selfish, and I am sure that I have become +shamefully indolent. I go on with certain occupations every day from +habit, not from choice; my mind is not in them. I used to flatter myself +that I did many things, from a sense of duty and of general benevolence, +which I am convinced were done merely from a particular wish to please, +and to make myself more and more beloved by the object of my fondest +affection. Disappointed in this hope, I sink into indolence, from which +the desire to entertain my friends is not sufficient to rouse me. Helen +has been summoned away; but I believe I told you that Mr and Mrs F**, +whose company is peculiarly agreeable to my taste, and Lady M***** and +her amiable daughters, and your witty friend *****, are with us. In such +society, I am ashamed of being stupid; yet I cannot contribute to the +amusement of the company, and I feel surprised at their animation and +sprightliness. It seems as if I was looking on at dances without hearing +any music. Sometimes I fear that my silence should be observed, and then +I begin to talk without well knowing what I am saying. I confine myself +to the most commonplace subjects, and hesitate, from the dread of saying +something quite foreign to the purpose. What must Mr L---- think of my +stupidity? But he does not, I believe, perceive it: he is so much +occupied with--with other objects. I am glad that he does not see all +that passes in my mind, for he might despise me if he knew that I am so +miserable. I did not mean to use so strong an expression; but now it is +written, I will not blot it out, lest you should fancy something worse +than the reality. I am not, however, yet so weak as to be seriously +_miserable_ when I have no real cause to be so. The truth is----. Now +you know this phrase is a tacit confession that all that has been said +before is false. The real truth is----. By my prefacing so long you may +be sure that I have reason to be ashamed of this real truth's coming +out. The real truth is, that I have been so long accustomed to be the +first and _only_ object of Mr L----'s thoughts, that I cannot bear to +see him think of anything else. Yes, _things_ I can bear, but not +_persons_--female persons; and there is one person here who is so much +more agreeable and entertaining than I am, that she engrosses very +naturally almost all his attention. I am not _envious_, I am sure; for I +could once admire all Lady Olivia's talents and accomplishments, and no +one could be more charmed than I was with her fascinating manners and +irresistible powers of pleasing; but when those irresistible powers may +rob me of the heart of my beloved husband--of the whole happiness of my +life--how can I admire them? All I can promise is to preserve my mind +from the meanness of suspicion. I can do my rival justice. I can +believe, and entreat you to believe, that she does not wish to be my +rival: that she is perfectly innocent of all design to injure me, and +that she is not aware of the impression she has made. I, who know every +change of Mr L----'s countenance, every inflexion of his voice, every +turn of his mind, can see too plainly what she cannot discern. I should +indeed have thought, that no woman, whom he distinguished or preferred +in any degree, could avoid perceiving it, his manner is so expressive, +so flattering; but perhaps this appears so only to me--a woman who does +not love him may see things very differently. Lady Olivia can be in no +danger, because her heart, fortunately for me, is prepossessed in favour +of another; and a woman whose heart is occupied by one object is +absolutely blind, as I well know, to all others. With this security I +ought to be satisfied; for I believe no one inspires a lasting passion +without sharing it. + +I am summoned to give my opinion about certain illuminations and +decoration for a _fête champêtre_ which Mr L---- is so kind as to give +in honour of my birthday--just at the time I am complaining of his +neglect!----No, dear mother, I hope I have not complained of _him_, but +of _myself_:--and it is your business to teach your daughter to be more +reasonable. Write soon and fully to + + Your affectionate + Leonora. + + + + + Letter xxvi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +This fine fête champêtre is over.--Expect no description of it from me, +Gabrielle, for I am horribly out of humour. The whole pleasure of the +evening was destroyed by the most foolish circumstance imaginable. +Leonora's jealousy is now evident to more eyes than mine. No farther +doubt upon the subject can remain. My curiosity is satisfied; but I am +now left to reproach myself for having gone so far to ascertain what I +ought to have taken for granted. All these good English wives are +jealous; so jealous, that no one, who has any pretensions to beauty, +wit, or _amiability_, can live with them. They can have no _society_ in +our sense of the word; of course they must live shut up in their own +dismal houses with their own stupid families, the faithful husband and +wife sitting opposite to each other in their own chimney corners, +yawning models of constancy. And this they call virtue! How the meanest +vices usurp the name of virtue! Leonora's is a jealousy of the most +illiberal and degrading species; a jealousy of the temper, not of the +heart. She is too cold to feel the passion of love.--She never could be +in love; of that I am certain. She is too reasonable, too prudish. +Besides, to imagine that she could be in love with her own husband, and +after eighteen months' marriage--the thing is absurd! the thing is +impossible! No, she deceives herself or him, or both, if she pretends +that her jealousy arises from love, from what you and I, Gabrielle, +understand by the word. Passion, and passion only, can plead a just +excuse for its own excesses. Were Leonora in love, I could pardon her +jealousy. But now I despise it. Yes, with all her high reputation, and +_imposing_ qualities, I must think of her with contempt. And now that I +have given vent to my feelings with that freedom in which I ever indulge +myself in writing to you, my amiable Gabrielle, chosen friend of my +heart, I will compose myself, and give you a rational account of things. + +You know that I am said to have some taste. Leonora makes no pretensions +to any. Wishing, I suppose, that her fête should be as elegant as +possible, she consulted me about all the arrangements and decorations. +It was I that did everything. My skill and taste were admired by the +whole company, and especially by Mr L----. He was in remarkably good +spirits at the commencement of the evening; quite gay and gallant: he +certainly paid me a great deal of attention, and it was natural he +should; for besides being his guest, I was undoubtedly the most elegant +woman present. My fame had gone abroad; I found that I was the object of +general attention. To this I have been tolerably well accustomed all my +life; enough at least to prevent me from giving any visible sign of +being moved by admiration in whatever form it comes; whether in the +polite foreign glance, or the broad English stare. The starers enjoyed +their pleasure, and I mine: I moved and talked, I smiled or was pensive, +as though I saw them not; nevertheless the homage of their gaze was not +lost upon me. You know, my charming Gabrielle, one likes to observe the +_sensation_ one produces amongst new people. The incense that I +perceived in the surrounding atmosphere was just powerful enough to +affect my nerves agreeably: that languor which you have so often +reproached me for indulging in the company of what we call +_indifferents_ gradually dissipated; and, as poor R*** used to say of +me, I came from behind my cloud like the sun in all its glory. I was +such as you have seen me, Gabrielle, in my best days, in my best +moments, in my very best style. I wonder what would excite me to such a +waste of powers. L---- seemed inspired too: he really was quite +agreeable, and showed me off almost as well as R*** himself could have +done. I had no idea that he had this species of talent. You will never +know of what my countrymen are capable, for you are out of patience with +the statues the first half hour: now it takes an amazing time to animate +them; but they can be waked into life, and I have a pride in conquering +difficulties.--There were more men this night in proportion to the women +than one usually sees in English company, consequently it was more +agreeable. I was surrounded by an admiring audience, and my conversation +of course was sufficiently general to please all, and sufficiently +particular to distinguish the man whom I wished to animate. In all this +you will say there was nothing to put one out of humour, nothing very +mortifying:--but stay, my fair philosopher, do not judge of the day till +you see its end.--Leonora was so hid from my view by the crowd of +adorers, that I really did not discern her, or suspect her jealousy. I +was quite natural; I thought only of myself; I declined all invitations +to dance, declaring that it was so long since I had tried an English +country dance, that I dared not expose my awkwardness. French country +dances were mentioned, but I preferred conversation. At last L---- +persecuted me to try a Polish dance with him--a multitude of voices +overpowered me. I have not the talent which some of my countrywomen +possess in such perfection, of being obstinate about trifles. When I can +refuse with grace, 'tis well; but when that is no longer possible, it is +my principle, or my weakness, to yield. I was surprised to find that +L---- danced admirably. I became animated. You know how dancing animates +me, when I have a partner who _can_ dance--a thing not very common in +this country. We ended by _waltzing_, first in the Polish, and +afterwards in the Parisian manner. I certainly surpassed myself--I flew, +I was borne upon the wings of the wind, I floated on the notes of the +music. Animated or languid in every gradation of grace and sentiment, I +abandoned myself to the inspiration of the moment; I was all soul, and +the spectators were all admiration. To you, my Gabrielle, I may speak +thus of myself without vanity: you know the sensation I was accustomed +to produce at Paris; you may guess then what the effect must be here, +where such a style of dancing has all the captivation of novelty. Had I +doubted that my _success_ was complete, I should have been assured of it +by the faces of some prudes among the matrons, who affected to think +that the waltz was _too much_. As L---- was leading, or rather +supporting me to my seat, for I was quite exhausted, I overheard a +gentleman, who was at no great distance from the place where Leonora was +standing, whisper to his neighbour, "Le Valse extrême est la volupté +permise." I fancy Leonora overheard these words, as well as myself, for +my eyes met hers at this instant, and she coloured, and directly looked +another way. L---- neither heard nor saw anything of all this: he was +intent upon procuring me a seat; and an Englishman can never see or +think of two things at a time. A few minutes afterwards, whilst he was +fanning me, a young awkward peasant girl, quite a stranger in this +country, came up to me, and dropping her novice curtsy, said, "Here's a +ring, my lady, I found on the grass; they tell me it is yours, my lady!" + +"No, my good girl, it is not mine," said I. + +"It is Lady Leonora's," said Mr L----. + +At the sound of her name Leonora came forward. + +The girl looked alternately at us. + +"Can you doubt," cried Colonel A----, "which of these ladies is Mr +L----'s wife?" + +"O no, sir; this is she, _to be sure_," said the girl, pointing to me. + +What there was in the girl's accent, or in L----'s look, when she +pronounced the words, or in mine, or in all three together, I cannot +exactly describe; but Leonora felt it. She turned as pale as death. I +looked as unconscious as I could. L---- went on fanning me, without +seeing his wife's change of countenance. Leonora--would you believe +it?--sank upon a bench behind us, and fainted. How her husband started, +when he felt her catch by his arm as she fell! He threw down the fan, +left me, ran for water--"O, Lady Leonora! Lady Leonora is ill!" +exclaimed every voice. The consternation was wonderful. They carried her +ladyship to a spot where she could have free air. I was absolutely in an +instant left alone, and seemingly as much forgotten as if I had never +existed! I was indeed so much astonished, that I could not stir from the +place where I stood; till recollecting myself, I pushed my way through +the crowd, and came in view of Leonora just as she opened her eyes. As +soon as she came to herself, she made an effort to stand, saying that +she was quite well again, but that she would go into the house and +repose herself for a few minutes. As she rose, a hundred arms were +offered at once to her assistance. She stepped forward; and to my +surprise, and I believe to the surprise of everybody else, took mine, +made a sign to her husband not to follow us, and walked quickly towards +the house. Her woman, with a face of terror, met us, as we were going +into Lady Leonora's apartment, with salts and hartshorn, and I know not +what in her hands. + +"I am quite well, quite well again; I do not want anything; I do not +want anything. I do not want you, Mason," said Leonora. "Lady Olivia is +so good as to assist me. I am come in only to rest for a few minutes." + +The woman gave me an evil look, and left the room. Never did I wish +anything more than that she should have staid. I was absolutely so +embarrassed, so distressed, when I found myself alone with Leonora, that +I knew not what to say. I believe I began with a sentence about the +night air, that was very little to the purpose. The sight of some +baby-linen which the maid had been making suggested to me something +which I thought more appropriate. + +"My dear creature!" said I, "why will you fatigue yourself so terribly, +and stand so much and so long in your situation?" + +Leonora neither accepted nor rejected my interpretation of what had +passed. She made no reply; but fixed her eyes upon me as if she would +have read my very soul. Never did I see or feel eyes so expressive or so +powerful as hers were at this moment. Mine absolutely fell beneath them. +What deprived me of presence of mind I know not; but I was utterly +without common sense. I am sure I changed colour, and Leonora must have +seen it through my rouge, for I had only the slightest tinge upon my +cheeks. The consciousness that she saw me blush disconcerted me beyond +recovery; it is really quite unaccountable: I trembled all over as I +stood before her; I was forced to have recourse to the hartshorn and +water, which stood upon the table. Leonora rose and threw open the +window to give me fresh air. She pressed my hand, but rather with an air +of forgiveness than of affection; I was mortified and vexed; but my +pride revived me. + +"We had better return to the company as soon as possible, I believe," +said she, looking down at the moving crowd below. + +"I am ready to attend you, my dear," said I coldly, "whenever you feel +yourself sufficiently rested and composed." + +She left the room, and I followed. You have no idea of the solicitude +with which the people hoped she was _better_--and _well_--and _quite +well_, &c. What amazing importance a fainting fit can sometimes bestow! +Her husband seemed no longer to have any eyes or soul but for her. At +supper, and during the rest of the night, she occupied the whole +attention of everybody present. Can you conceive anything so provoking? +But L---- must be an absolute fool!--Did he never see a woman faint +before?--He cannot pretend to be in love with his wife--I do not +understand it.--But this I know, that he has been totally different in +his manner towards me these three days past. + +And now that my curiosity is satisfied about Leonora's jealousy, I shall +absolutely perish with ennui in this stupid place. Adieu, dearest +Gabrielle! How I envy you! The void of my heart is insupportable. I must +have some passion to keep me alive. Forward any letters from poor R***, +if he has written under cover to you. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxvij. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + +Take courage, my beloved daughter; take courage. Have a just confidence +in yourself and in your husband. For a moment he may be fascinated by +the arts of an unprincipled woman; for a moment she may triumph over his +senses, and his imagination; but of his esteem, his affection, his +heart, she cannot rob you. These have been, ought to be, will be yours. +Trust to your mother's prophecy, my child. You may trust to it securely: +for, well as she loves you--and no mother ever loved a daughter +better--she does not soothe you with mere words of doting fondness; she +speaks to you the language of reason and of truth. + +I know what such a man as Mr L---- must esteem and love; I know of what +such a woman as my daughter is capable, when her whole happiness, and +the happiness of all that is dear to her, are at stake. The loss of +temporary admiration and power, the transient preference shown to a +despicable rival, will not provoke you to imprudent reproach, nor sink +you to helpless despair. The arts of an Olivia might continue to deceive +your husband, if he were a fool; or to please him, if he were a +libertine: but he has a heart formed for love, he cannot therefore be a +libertine: he is a man of superior abilities, and knows women too well +to be a dupe. With a penetrating and discriminative judgment of +character, he is a nice observer of female manners; his taste is +delicate even to excess; under a cold exterior he has a vivid +imagination and strong sensibility; he has little vanity, but a +superabundance of pride; he wishes to be ardently loved, but this he +conceals; it is difficult to convince him that he is beloved, and +scarcely possible to satisfy him by any common proofs of attachment. A +coquette will never attach Mr L----. The admiration which others might +express for her charms and accomplishments would never pique him to +competition: far from seeking "to win her praise whom all admire," he +would disdain to enter the lists with the vulgar multitude: a heart in +which he had a probability of holding only divided empire would not +appear to him worth the winning. As a coquette whatever may be her +talents, graces, accomplishments, and address, you have nothing +seriously to fear from Lady Olivia. + +But, my dear, Mr L----'s mind may be in a situation to require +amusement. That species of apathy which succeeds to passion is not, as +the inexperienced imagine, the death of love, but the necessary and +salutary repose from which it awakens refreshed and revived. Mr L----'s +passion for you has been not only tender, but violent, and the calm +which inevitably succeeds should not alarm you. + +When a man feels that his fondness for a wife is suspended, he is uneasy +in her company, not only from the sense of decreased pleasure, but from +the fear of her observation and detection. If she reproach him, affairs +become worse; he blames himself, he fears to give pain whenever he is in +her presence: if he attempt to conceal his feelings, and to appear what +he is no longer--a lover, his attempts are awkward; he becomes more and +more dissatisfied with himself; and the person who compels him to this +hypocrisy, who thus degrades him in his own eyes, must certainly be in +danger of becoming an object of aversion. A wife, who has sense enough +to abstain from all reproaches, direct or indirect, by word or look, may +reclaim her husband's affections: the bird escapes from his cage, but +returns to his nest. + +I am glad that you have agreeable company at your house; they will amuse +Mr L----, and relieve you from the necessity of taking a share in any +conversation that you dislike. Our witty friend ***** will supply your +share of conversation; and as to your silence, remember that witty +people are always content with those who _act audience_. + +I rejoice that you persist in your daily occupations. To a mind like +yours, the sense of performing your duty will, next to religion, be the +firmest support upon which you can rely. + +Perhaps, my dear, even when you read this, you will still be inclined to +justify Lady Olivia, and to conceal from your heart the suspicions which +her conduct excites. I am not surprised that you should find it +difficult to believe that one to whom you have behaved so generously +should treat you with treachery and ingratitude. I am not surprised, +that you who feel what it is to love, should think that a woman whose +heart is occupied by attachment to one object must be incapable of +thinking of any other. But love in such a heart as yours is totally +different from what it is in the fancy of these heroines. In their +imagination the objects are as fleeting as the pictures in the clouds +chased by the wind. + +From Lady Olivia expect nothing; depend only on yourself. When you +become, as you soon must, completely convinced that the woman in whom +your unsuspecting soul confided is utterly unworthy of your esteem, +refrain from all imprudent expressions of indignation. I despise--you +will soon hate--your rival; but in the moment of detection think of what +is due to yourself, and act as calmly as if you had never loved her. She +will suffer no pain from the loss of your friendship: she has not a +heart that can value it. Probably she is envious of you. All these women +desire to mortify those whom they cannot degrade to their own level: and +I am inclined to suspect that this malevolent feeling, joined to the +want of occupation, may be the cause of her present conduct. Her +manoeuvres will not ultimately succeed. She will be deserted by Mr +L----, disappointed and disgraced, and your husband will be more yours +than ever. When this happy moment comes, my Leonora; when your husband +returns, preferring yours to all other society, then will be the time to +exert all your talents, all your charms, to prove your superiority in +everything, but most in love. The soothings of female tenderness, in +certain situations, have power not only to calm the feelings of +self-reproach, but to diffuse delight over the soul of man. The oil, +which the skilful mariner throws upon the sea, not only smooths the +waves in the storm, but when the sun shines, spreads the most beautiful +colours over the surface of the waters. + +My dear daughter, though your mother writes seemingly at her ease, you +must not fancy that she does not feel for you. Do not imagine, that in +the coldness of extinguished passions, and in the pride of counselling +age, your mother expects to charm agony with words. No, my child, I am +not so absurd, so cruel. Your letter forced tears from eyes, which are +not used like sentimental eyes to weep upon every trifling occasion. My +first wish was to set out immediately to see you; but whatever +consolation or pleasure my company might afford, I believe it might be +disadvantageous to you in your present circumstances. I could not be an +hour in the room with this Lady Olivia, without showing some portion of +the indignation and contempt that I feel for her conduct. This warmth of +mine might injure you in your husband's opinion. Though you would have +too strong a sense of propriety, and too much dignity of mind, to make +complaints of your husband to me, or to any one living; yet it might be +supposed that your mother was your confidante in secret, and your +partisan in public: this might destroy your domestic happiness. No +husband can or ought to endure the idea of his wife's caballing against +him. I admire and shall respect your dignified silence. + +And now fare you well, my dearest child. May God bless you! If a +mother's prayers could avail, you would be the happiest of human beings. +I do, without partiality, believe you to be one of the best and most +amiable of women. + + + + + Letter xxviij. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + +Had your letter, my dearest mother, reached me a few hours sooner, I +should not have exposed myself as I have done. + +Yesterday, at our _fête champêtre_, you would have been ashamed of me. I +am ashamed of myself. I did the very reverse of what I ought, of what I +would have done, if I had been fortified by your counsel. Instead of +being calm and dignified, I was agitated beyond all power of control. I +lost all presence of mind, all common sense, all recollection. + +I know your contempt for swooning heroines. What will you say, when you +hear that your daughter fainted--fainted in public? I believe, however, +that, as soon as I recovered, I had sufficient command over myself to +prevent the accident from being attributed to--to--to the real cause, +and I hope that the very moment I came to my recollection, my manner +towards Lady Olivia was such as to preclude all possibility of her being +blamed or even suspected. From living much abroad, she has acquired a +certain freedom of manner, and latitude of thinking, which expose her to +suspicion; but of all serious intention to injure me, or to pass the +bounds of propriety, I totally acquit her. She is not to blame for the +admiration she excites, nor is she to be the sufferer for my weakness +of mind or of health. + +Great and unreasonable folly I am sure I showed--but I shall do so no +more. + +The particular circumstances I need not explain: you may be assured, +that wherever I think it right to be silent, nothing shall tempt me to +speak: but I understood, by the conclusion of your letter, that you +expect me to preserve an absolute silence upon this subject in future: +this I will not promise. I cannot conceive that I, who do not mean to +injure any human being, ought, because I am unhappy, and when I am most +in want of a friend, to be precluded from the indulgence of speaking of +what is nearest my heart to that dear, safe, most enlightened, and +honourable of friends, who has loved, guided, instructed, and encouraged +me in everything that is right from my infancy. Why should I be refused +all claim to sympathy? why must my thoughts and feelings be shut up in +my own breast? and why must I be an isolated being, prescribed from +commerce with my own family, with my beloved mother, to whom I have been +accustomed to tell every feeling and idea as they rose? No; to all that +is honourable I will strictly conform; but by the superstition of +prudence I do not hold myself bound. + +Nothing could be kinder than my husband's conduct to me the evening +after I was taken ill. He left home early this morning; he is gone to +meet his friend, General B----, who has just returned from abroad. I +hope that Mr L---- will be absent only a few days; for it would be fatal +to my happiness if he should find amusement at a distance from home. His +home at all events shall never be made a cage to him; when he returns I +will exert myself to the utmost to make it agreeable. This I hope can be +done without obtruding my company upon him, or putting myself in +competition with any person. I could wish that some fortunate accident +might induce Lady Olivia to leave us before Mr L----'s return. Had I the +same high opinion of her generosity that I once formed, had I the same +perfect confidence in her integrity and in her friendship for me, I +would go this moment and tell her all that passes in my heart: no +humiliation of my vanity would cost me anything if it could serve the +interests of my love; no mean pride could stand in my mind against the +force of affection. But there is a species of pride which I cannot, will +not renounce--believing, as I do, that it is the companion, the friend, +the support of virtue. This pride, I trust, will never desert me: it has +grown with my growth; it was implanted in my character by the education +which my dear mother gave me; and now, even by her it cannot be +eradicated. Surely I have misunderstood one passage in your letter: you +cannot advise your daughter to restrain just indignation against vice +from any motive of policy or personal interest. You say to me, "In the +moment of detection think of what is due to yourself, and act as calmly +as if you had never loved her." If I _could_, I would not do this. +Contempt shown by virtue is the just punishment of vice, a punishment +which no selfish consideration should mitigate. If I were convinced that +Lady Olivia were guilty, would you have me behave to her as if I +believed her to be innocent? My countenance, my voice, my principles, +would revolt from such mean and pernicious hypocrisy, degrading to the +individual, and destructive to society. + +May I never more see the smile of love on the lips of my husband, nor +its expression in his eyes, if I do so degrade myself in my own opinion +and in his! Yes, in his; for would not he, would not any man of sense +or delicacy, recur to that idea so common with his sex, and so just, +that if a woman will sacrifice her sense of honour to her passions in +one instance, she may in another? Would he not argue, "If she will do +this for me because she is in love with me, why not for a new favourite, +if time or accident should make me less an object of passion?" No; I may +lose his love--this would be my misfortune: but to forfeit his esteem +would be my fault; and, under the remorse which I should then have to +endure, I am persuaded that no power of art or nature could sustain my +existence. + +So much for myself. As to the general good of society, that, I confess, +is not at this moment the uppermost consideration in my mind; but I will +add a few words on that subject, lest you should imagine me to be +hurried away by my own feelings. Public justice and reason are, I think, +on my side. What would become of the good order of society or the +decency of families, if every politic wife were to receive or invite, or +permit her husband's mistress to reside in her house? What would become +of conjugal virtue in either sex, if the wife were in this manner not +only to connive at the infidelity of her husband, but to encourage and +provide for his inconsistency? If she enters into bonds of amity and +articles of partnership with her rival, with that person by whom she has +been most injured, instead of being the dignified sufferer, she becomes +an object of contempt. + +My dearest mother, my most respected friend, my sentiments on this +subject cannot essentially differ from yours. I must have mistaken your +meaning. Pray write quickly, and tell me so; and forgive, if you cannot +approve of, the warmth with which I have spoken. + + I am your truly affectionate + And grateful daughter, + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter xxix. + + _Olivia to Madame P----._ + + +My amiable Gabrielle, I must be faithful to my promise of writing to you +every week, though this place affords nothing new either in events or +sentiment. Mr L----'s absence made this castle insupportably dull. A few +days ago he returned home, and met me with an easy kind of indifference, +provoking enough to a woman who has been accustomed to excite some +sensation. However, I was rejoiced at this upon Leonora's account. She +was evidently delighted, and her spirits and affections seemed to +overflow involuntarily upon all around her; even to me her manner became +quite frank and cordial, almost caressing. She is really handsome when +she is animated, and her conversation this evening quite surprised me. I +saw something of that playfulness, those light touches, that versatility +of expression, those words that mean more than meet the ear; everything, +in short, that could charm in the most polished foreign society. Leonora +seemed to be inspired with all the art of conversation by the simple +instinct of affection. What astonished me most was the grace with which +she introduced some profound philosophical remarks. "Such pearls," said +Mr L----, "come from the deep." + +With all these talents, what might not Leonora be in proper hands! But +now she is nothing except to her husband and a few intimate friends. +However, this is not my affair. Let me go on to what concerns myself. +You may believe, my dear Gabrielle, that I piqued myself upon showing at +least as much easy indifference as was shown to me: freedom encourages +freedom. As there was no danger of my being too amiable, I did not think +myself bound in honour or sentiment to keep myself in the shade; but I +could not be as brilliant as you have seen me at your _soirées_: the +magic circle of adorers, the inspiring power of numbers, the éclat of +public _representation_, were wanting. I retired to my own apartment at +night, quite out of humour with myself; and Josephine, as she undressed +me, put me still further out of patience by an ill-timed history of a +dispute she has had with Leonora's Swiss servant. The Swiss and +Josephine, it seems, came to high words in defence of their mistresses' +charms. Josephine provoked the Swiss by saying, that his lady might +possibly be handsome if she were dressed in the French taste; _mais +qu'elle étoit bien Angloise_, and would be quite another thing if she +had been at Paris. The Swiss retorted by observing, that Josephine's +lady had indeed learnt in perfection at Paris _the art of making herself +up_, which was quite necessary to a beauty _un peu passée_. The words +were not more agreeable to me than they had been to Josephine. I wonder +at her assurance in repeating them--"Un peu passée!" Many a woman in +England, ten, fifteen years older than I am, has inspired a violent +passion; and it has been observed, that power is retained by these +mature charmers, longer than conquest can be preserved by inexperienced +beauties. There are women who have learnt to combine, for their own +advantage, and for that of their captives, all the pleasure and +_conveniences_ of society, all that a thorough knowledge of the world +can give--women who have a sufficient attention to appearances, joined +to a real contempt of all prejudices, especially that of +constancy--women who possess that knowledge of the human heart, which +well compensates transient bloom; who add the expression of sentiment to +beautiful features, and who employ + + "Gay smiles to comfort, April showers to move, + And all the nature, all the art of Love." + +--"Un peu passée!" The Swiss is impertinent, and knows nothing of the +matter. His master knows but little more. He would, however, know +infinitely more if I could take the trouble to instruct him; to which I +am almost tempted for want of something better to do. Adieu, my +Gabrielle. R***'s silence is perfectly incomprehensible. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxx. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +So, my amiable Gabrielle, you are really interested in my letters, +_though written during my English exile_, and you are curious to know +whether any of my _potent spells_ can wake into life this man of marble. +I candidly confess you would inspire me with an ambition to raise my +poor countrymen in your opinion, if I were not restrained by the sacred +sentiment of friendship, which forbids me to rival Leonora _even_ in a +husband's opinion. + +However, Josephine, who feels herself a party concerned ever since her +battle with the Swiss, has piqued herself upon dressing me with +exquisite taste. I am every day _mise à ravir_!--and with such +perfection of art, that no art appears--all is negligent simplicity. I +let Josephine please herself; for you know I am not bound to be +frightful because I have a friend whose husband may chance to turn his +eye upon my figure, when he is tired of admiring hers. I rallied +L----the other day upon his having no eyes or ears but for his wife. Be +assured I did it in such a manner, that he could not be angry. Then I +went on to a comparison between the _facility_ of French and English +society. He admitted that there was some truth and more wit in my +observations. I was satisfied. With these reasonable men, the grand +point for a woman is to amuse them--they can have logic from their own +sex. But, my Gabrielle, I am summoned to the _salon_, and must finish my + Letter another day. + + * * * * * + +Heaven! can it be a fortnight since I wrote a line to my +Gabrielle!--Where was I?--"With these reasonable men the grand point for +a woman is to amuse them." True--most true! L----, believing himself +only amused with my lively nonsense, indulged himself with it +continually. I was to believe only what he believed. Presently he could +not do without my conversation for more than two hours together. What +was I to do, my Gabrielle? I walked out to avoid him. He found me in the +woods--rallied me on my taste for solitude, and quoted Voltaire. + +This led to a metaphysical conversation, half playful, half +serious:--the distinction which a man sometimes makes to his conscience +between thinking a woman entertaining, and feeling her interesting, +vanishes more easily, and more rapidly, than he is aware of--at least in +certain situations. This was not an observation I could make to my +companion in the woods, and he certainly did not make it for himself. It +would have been vanity in me to have broken off our conversation, lest +he should fall in love with me--it would have been blindness not to have +seen that he was in some danger. I thought of Leonora--and sighed--and +did all that was in my power to put him upon his guard. By way of +preservative, I frankly made him a confession of my attachment to R***. +This I imagined would put things upon a right footing for ever; but, on +the contrary, by convincing him of my innocence, and of my having no +designs on his heart, this candour has, I fear, endangered him still +more; yet I know not what to think--his manner is so variable towards +me--I must be convinced of what his sentiments are before I can decide +what my conduct ought to be. Adieu, my amiable Gabrielle; I wait for +something decisive with an inexpressible degree of anxiety--I will not +now call it curiosity.--Apropos, does R*** wish that I should forget +that he exists? What is this business that detains him? But why do I +condescend to inquire? + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxi. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + London. + + My dear L----, + +I send you the horse to which you took a fancy. He has killed one of his +grooms, and lamed two; but you will be his master, and I hope he will +know it. + +I have a word to say to you on a more serious subject. Pardon me if I +tell you that I think you are a happy man, and excuse me if I add, that +if you do not keep yourself so I shall not think you a wise one. A good +wife is better than a good-for-nothing mistress.--A self-evident +proposition!--A stupid truism! Yes; but if every man who knows a +self-evident proposition when he sees it on paper always acted as if he +knew it, this would be a very wise and a very happy world; and I should +not have occasion to write this letter. + +You say that you are only amusing yourself at the expense of a finished +coquette; take care that she does not presently divert herself at +yours.----"_You are proof against French coquetry and German +sentiment._"----Granted--but a fine woman?--and your own vanity?--But +you have no vanity.----You call it pride then, I suppose. I will not +quarrel with you for a name. Pride, properly managed, will do your +business as well as vanity. And no doubt Lady Olivia knows this as well +as I do. I hope you may never know it better. + + I am, my dear friend, + Truly yours, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xxxij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Advise me, dearest Gabrielle; I am in a delicate situation; and on your +judgment and purity of heart I have the most perfect reliance. Know, +then, that I begin to believe that Leonora's jealousy was not so +absolutely absurd as I at first supposed. She understood her husband +better than I did. I begin to fear that I have made a serious impression +whilst I meant only to amuse myself. Heaven is my witness, I simply +intended to satisfy my curiosity, and that once gratified, it was my +determination to respect the weakness I discovered. To love Leonora, as +once I imagined I could, is out of my power; but to disturb her peace, +to destroy her happiness, to make use of the confidence she has reposed +in me, the kindness she has shown by making me an inmate of her +house--my soul shudders at these ideas. No--if her husband really loves +me I will fly. Leonora shall see that Olivia is incapable of +treachery--that Olivia has a soul generous and delicate as her own, +though free from the prejudices by which she is fettered. To Leonora a +husband is a lover--I shall consider him as such, and respect her +_property_. You are so little used, my dear Gabrielle, to consider a +husband in this point of view, that you will scarcely enter into my +feelings: but put yourself in my situation, allow for nationality of +principle, and I am persuaded you would act as I shall. Spare me your +raillery; seriously, if Leonora's husband is in love with me, would you +not advise me, my dearest friend, to fly him, "far as pole from pole?" +Write to me, I conjure you, my Gabrielle--write instantly, and tell me +whether R*** is now at Paris. I will return thither immediately if you +advise it. My mind is in such confusion, I have no power to decide; I +will be guided by your advice. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxiij. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +Advice! my charming Olivia! do you ask me for advice? I never gave or +took advice in my life, except for _les vapeurs noirs_. And your +understanding is so far superior to mine, and you comprehend the +characters of these English so much better than I do, that I cannot +pretend to counsel you. This Lady Leonora is inconceivable with her +passion for her own husband; but how ridiculous to let it be suspected! +If her heart is so tender, cannot she, with all her charms, find a lover +on whom to bestow it, without tormenting that poor Mr L----. Evidently +he is tired of her: and I am sure I should be worn to death were I in +his place. Nothing so tiresome as love without mystery and without +obstacles. And this must ever be the case with conjugal love. Eighteen +months married, I think you say, and Lady Leonora expects her husband to +be still at her feet! And she wishes it! Truly she is the most +unreasonable woman upon earth--and the most extraordinary: but I am +tired of thinking of what I cannot comprehend. + +Let us pass on to Mr L----. By your last letters I should judge that he +might be an agreeable man if his wife were out of the question. +Matrimonial jealousy is a new idea to me; I can judge of it only by +analogy. In affairs of gallantry I have sometimes seen one of the +parties continue to love when the other has become indifferent, and then +they go on tormenting one another and being miserable, because they have +not the sense to see that a fire cannot be made of ashes. Sometimes I +have found romantic young people persuade themselves that they can love +no more because they can love one another no longer; but if they had +sufficient courage to say--I am tired--and I cannot help it--they would +come to a right understanding immediately, and part on the best terms +possible; each eager to make a new choice, and to be again in love and +happy. All this to be done with decency, of course. And if there be no +scandal, where is the harm? Can it signify to the universe whether Mons. +Un-tel likes Mad. Une-telle or Mad. Une-autre? Provided there is love +enough, all the world is in good humour, and that is the essential +point; for without good humour, what becomes of the pleasures of +society? As to the rest, I think of inconstancy, or _infidelity_ as it +is called, much as our good La Fontaine did--"Quand on le sait c'est peu +de chose--quand on ne le sait pas ce n'est rien." + +To promise to love one person eternally! What a terrible engagement! It +freezes my heart even to think of it. I am persuaded, that if I were +bound to love him for life, I should detest the most amiable man upon +earth in ten minutes--a husband more especially. Good Heavens! how I +should abhor M. de P---- if I saw him in this point of view. On the +contrary, now I love him infinitely--that is to say, as one loves a +husband. I have his interest at heart, and his glory. When I thought he +was going to prison I was in despair. I was at home to no one but +_Brave-et-Tendre_, and to him only to consult on the means of obtaining +my husband's pardon. M. de P---- is sensible of this, and on my part I +have no reason to complain of his liberality. We are perfectly happy, +though we meet perhaps but for a few minutes in the day; and is not this +better than tiring one another for four-and-twenty hours? When I grow +old--if ever I do--he will be my best friend. In the meantime I support +his credit with all my influence. This very morning I concluded an +affair for him, which never could have succeeded, if the intimate friend +of the minister had not been also my lover. Now, why cannot your Lady +Leonora and her Mr L---- live on the same sort of terms? But if English +manners will not permit of this, I have nothing more to say. Above all +things a woman must respect opinion, else she cannot be well received in +the world. I conclude this is the secret of Lady Leonora's conduct. But +then jealousy!--no woman, I suppose, is bound, even in England, to be +jealous in order to show her love for her husband. I lose myself again +in trying to understand what is incomprehensible. + +As to you, my dear Olivia, you also amaze me by talking of _crimes_ and +_horror_, and _flying from pole to pole_ to avoid a man because you have +made him at last find out that he has a heart! You have done him the +greatest possible service: it may preserve him perhaps from hanging +himself next November--that month in which, according to Voltaire's +philosophical calendar, Englishmen always hang themselves, because the +atmosphere is so thick and their ennui so heavy. Lady Leonora, if she +really loves her husband, ought to be infinitely obliged to you for +averting this danger. As to the rest, your heart is not concerned, so +you can have nothing to fear; and as for a platonic attachment on the +part of Mr L----, his wife, even according to her own rigid principles, +cannot blame you. + +Adieu, my charming friend! Instead of laughing at your fit of prudery, I +ought to encourage your scruples, that I might profit by them. If they +should bring you to Paris immediately, with what joy should I embrace my +Olivia, and how much gratitude should I owe to the jealousy of Lady +Leonora L----! + +R*** is not yet returned. When I have any news to give you of him, +depend upon it you shall hear from me again. Accept, my interesting +Olivia, the vows of my most tender and eternal friendship. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter xxxiv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle, Tuesday. + +Your charming letter, my Gabrielle, has at once revived my spirits and +dissipated all my scruples; you mistake, however, in supposing that +Leonora is in love with her husband: more and more reason have I every +hour to be convinced that Leonora has never known the passion of love; +consequently her jealousy was, as I at first pronounced it to be, the +selfish jealousy of matrimonial power and property. Else why does it +subside, why does it vanish, when, if it were a jealousy of the heart, +it has now more provocation, infinitely more than when it appeared in +full force? Leonora could see that her husband distinguished me at a +_fête champêtre_; she could see what the eyes of others showed her; she +could hear what envy whispered, or what scandal hinted; she was +mortified, she was alarmed even to fainting by a public preference, by a +silly country girl's mistaking me for _the wife_, and doing homage to me +as to the lady of the manor; but Leonora cannot perceive in the object +of her affection the symptoms that mark the rise and progress of _a real +love_. Leonora feels not the little strokes, which would be fatal blows +to the peace of a truly delicate mind; she heeds not "the trifles light +as air," which would be confirmation strong to a soul of genuine +sensibility. My influence over the mind of L---- increases rapidly, and +I shall let it rise to its acmè before I seem to notice it. Leonora, +reassured, I suppose, by a few flattering words, and more perhaps by an +exalted opinion of her own merit, has lately appeared quite at her ease, +and blind to all that passes before her eyes. It is not for me to +dissipate this illusion prematurely--it is not for me to weaken this +confidence in her husband. To an English wife this would be death. Let +her foolish security then last as long as possible. After all, how much +anguish of heart, how many pangs of conscience, how much of the torture +of pity, am I spared by this callous temper in my friend! I may indulge +in a little harmless coquetry without danger to her peace, and without +scruple enjoy the dear possession of power. + + * * * * * + +"Say, for you know," charming Gabrielle, what is the delight of +obtaining power over the human heart? Let the lords of the creation +boast of their power to govern all things; to charm these governors be +ours. Let the logicians of the earth boast their power to regulate the +world by reason; be it ours, Gabrielle, to intoxicate and humble proud +reason to the dust beneath our feet.--And who shall blame in us this +ardour for universal dominion? If they are men, I call them tyrants--if +they are women, I call them hypocrites--and the two vices which I most +detest are tyranny and hypocrisy. Frankly I confess, that I feel in all +its restless activity the passion for general admiration. I cannot +conceive--can you, Gabrielle?--a pleasure more transporting than the +perception of extended and extending dominion. The struggle of the rebel +heart for freedom makes the war more tempting, the victory more +glorious, the triumph more splendid. Secure of your sympathy, ma belle +Gabrielle, I shall not fear to tire you by my commentaries. + + * * * * * + +Male coquetry justifies female retaliation to any imaginable extent. +Upon this principle, on which I have seen you act so often, and so +successfully, I shall now intrepidly proceed. This man makes a show of +resistance; be it at his own peril: he thinks that he is gaining power +over my heart, whilst I am preparing torments for his; he fancies that +he is throwing chains round me, whilst I am rivetting fetters from which +he will in vain attempt to escape. He is proud, and has the insanity of +desiring to be exclusively beloved, yet affects to set no value upon the +preference that is shown to him; appears satisfied with his own +approbation, and stoically all-sufficient to his own happiness. Leonora +does not know how to manage his temper, but I do. The suspense, however, +in which he keeps me is tantalizing: he shall pay for it hereafter: I +had no idea, till lately, that he had so much self-command. At times he +has actually made me doubt my own power. At certain moments I have been +half tempted to believe that I had made no serious impression, that he +had been only amusing himself at my expense, and for Leonora's +gratification: but upon careful and cool observation I am convinced that +his indifference is affected, that all his stoicism will prove vain. The +arrow is lodged in his heart, and he must fall, whether he turns upon +the enemy in anger, or flies in dismay. + + * * * * * + +My pride is exasperated. I am not accustomed to such obstinate +resistance. I really almost hate this invincible man, and--strange +inconsistency of the human heart!--almost love him. Heaven and pride +preserve me from such a weakness! But there is certainly something that +piques and stimulates one's feelings in this species of male coquetry. +L----understands the business better than I thought he could. One moment +my knowledge of the arts of his sex puts me on my guard; the next my +sensibility exposes me in the most terrible manner. Experience ought to +protect me, but it only shows me the peril and my inability to escape. +Ah! Gabrielle, without a heart how safe we should be, how dangerous to +our lovers! But cursed with sensibility, we must, alas! submit to our +fate. The habit of loving, _le besoin d'aimer_, is more powerful than +all sense of the folly and the danger. Nor is the tempest of the +passions so dreadful as the dead calm of the soul. Why did R*** suffer +my soul to sink into this ominous calm? The fault is his; let him abide +the consequence. Why did he not follow me to England? Why did he not +write to me? or when he did write, why were his letters so cold, so +spiritless? When I spoke of divorce, why did he hesitate? Why did he +reason when he should have only felt? Tell him, my tender, my delicate +friend, these are questions which the heart asks, and which the heart +only can answer. Adieu. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxv. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +Je suis excedée! mon coeur. Alive, and but just alive, after such a day +of fatigues! All morning from one minister to another! then home to my +toilette! then a great dinner with a number of foreigners, each to be +distinguished--then au Feydeau, where I was obliged to go to support +poor S----'s play. It would be really insupportable, if it were not for +the finest music in the world, which, after all, the French music +certainly is. There was a violent party against the piece; and we were +so late, that it was just on the point of perishing. My ears have not +yet recovered from the horrid noise. In the midst of the tumult I +happily, by a master-stroke, turned the fortune of the night. I spied +the shawl of an English woman hanging over the box. This, you know, like +scarlet to the bull, is sufficient to enrage the Parisian pit. To the +shawl I directed the fury of the mob of critics. Luckily for us, the +lady was attended only by an Englishman, who of course chose to assert +his right not to understand the customs of any country, or submit to any +will but his own. He would not permit the shawl to be stirred. A bas! à +bas: resounded from below. The uproar was inconceivable. You would have +thought that the house must have come down. In the meantime the piece +went on, and the shawl covered all its defects. Admire my generalship. +T---- tells me I was born for a general; yet I rather think my forte is +negociation. + +But I have not yet come to your affairs, for which alone I could undergo +the fatigue of writing at this moment. Guess, my Olivia, what apparition +I met at the door of my box to-night. But the enclosed note will save +you the trouble of guessing. I could not avoid permitting him to slide +his billet doux into my hand as he put on my shawl. Adieu. I must refuse +myself the pleasure of conversing longer with my sweet friend. Fresh +toils await me. Mad. la Grande will never forgive me if I do not appear +for a moment at her soirée: and la petite Q---- will be jealous beyond +recovery if I do not give her a moment: and it is Mad. R----'s night. +There I must be; for all the ambassadors, as usual, will be there; and +as some of them, I have reason to believe, go on purpose to meet me, I +cannot disappoint their excellencies. My friends would never forgive it. +I am positively quite weary of this life of eternal bustle; but once in +the eddy, one is carried round and round; there is no stopping. Adieu, +adieu. I write under the hands of Victoire. O that she had your taste to +guide her, and to decide my too vacillating judgment: we should then +have no occasion to dread even the elegant simplicity of Mad. R----'s +toilette. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter xxxvi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +My Gabrielle, I have read R***'s note enclosed in your charming +sprightly letter. What a contrast! So cold! so formal! A thousand times +rather would I not have heard from him, than have received a letter so +little in unison with my feelings. He talks to me of business. Business! +What business ought to detain a man a moment from the woman he loves? +The interests of his ambition are nothing to me. What are all these to +love? Is he so mean as to hesitate between them? then I despise him! and +Olivia can never love the being she despises! + +Does R*** flatter himself that his power over my heart is omnipotent? +Does he imagine that Olivia is to be slighted with impunity? Does R*** +think that a woman who has even nominally the honour to reign over his +heart cannot meditate new conquests? O credulous vanity of man! He +fancies perhaps that he is secure of the maturer age of one who fondly +devoted to him her inexperienced youth. "Security is the curse of +fools." Does he in his wisdom deem a woman's age a sufficient pledge for +her constancy? He might every day see examples enough to convince him of +his error. In fact, the age of women has nothing to do with the number +of their years. Possibly, however, the gallant gentleman may be of +opinion with Leonora's Swiss, that Lady Olivia is _un peu passée_. +Adieu, my dear friend; you, who always understand and sympathize in my +feelings, you will express them for me in the best manner possible. I +shall not write to R***. You will see him; and Olivia commits to you +what to a woman of delicacy is more dear than her love--her just +resentment. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxvij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Pity me, dearest Gabrielle, for I am in need of all the pity which your +susceptible heart can bestow. Never was woman in such a terrible +situation! Yes, Gabrielle, this provoking, this incomprehensible, this +too amiable man, has entangled your poor friend past recovery. Her +sentiments and sensations must henceforward be in eternal opposition to +each other. Friendship, gratitude, honour, virtue, all in tremendous +array, forbid her to think of love; but love, imperious love, will not +be so defied: he seizes upon his victim, and now, as in all the past, +will be the ruler, the tyrant of Olivia's destiny. Never was confusion, +amazement, terror, remorse, equal to mine, Gabrielle, when I first +discovered that I loved him. Who could have foreseen, who could have +imagined it? I meant but to satisfy an innocent curiosity, to indulge +harmless coquetry, to gratify the natural love of admiration, and to +enjoy the possession of power. Alas! I felt not that whilst I was +acquiring ascendancy over the heart of another I was beguiled of all +command over my own. I flattered myself that when honour should bid me +stop, I could pause without hesitation, without effort: I promised +myself, that the moment I should discover that I was loved by the +husband of my friend I should fly from him for ever. Alas! it is no +longer time--to fly from him is no longer in my power. O Gabrielle! I +love him: he knows that I love him. Never did woman suffer more than I +have done since I wrote to you last. The conflict was too violent for my +feeble frame. I have been ill--very ill: a nervous fever brought me +nearly to the grave. Why did I not die? I should have escaped the deep +humiliation, the endless self-reproach to which my future existence is +doomed.--Leonora!--Why do I start at that name? Oh! there is horror in +the sound! Even now perhaps she knows and triumphs in my weakness. Even +now perhaps her calm insensible soul blesses itself for not being made +like mine. Even now perhaps her husband doubts whether he shall accept +Olivia's love, or sacrifice your wretched friend to Leonora's pride. O +Gabrielle, no words can describe what I suffer! But I must be calm, and +explain the progress of this fatal passion. Explain--Heavens! how shall +I explain what I cannot recollect without heart-rending anguish and +confusion! O Gabrielle! pity + + Your distracted + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxviij. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Monday. + +My dear romantic Olivia! you must have a furious passion for tormenting +yourself, when you can find matter for despair in your present +situation. In your place I should rejoice to find that in the moment an +old passion had consumed itself, a new one, fresh and vigorous, springs +from its ashes. My charming friend, understand your own interests, and +do not be the dupe of those fine phrases that we are obliged to employ +to deceive others. Rail at Cupid as much as you please to the men in +public, _par façon_; but always remember for your private use, that love +is essential to our existence in society. What is a woman when she +neither loves nor is loved? a mere _personage muet_ in the drama of +life. Is it not from our lovers that we derive our consequence? Even a +beauty without lovers is but a queen without subjects. A woman who +renounces love is an abdicated sovereign, always longing to resume her +empire when it is too late; continually forgetting herself, like the +pseudo-philosophic Christina, talking and acting as though she had still +the power of life and death in her hands; a tyrant without guards or +slaves; a most awkward, pitiable, and ridiculous personage. No, my fair +Olivia, let us never abjure love: even when the reign of beauty passes +away, that of grace and sentiment remains. As much delicacy as you +please: without delicacy there is no grace, and without a veil beauty +loses her most captivating charms. I pity you, my dear, for having let +your veil be blown aside _malheureusement_. But such accidents will +happen. Who can control the passions or the winds? After all, _l'erreur +d'un moment_ is not irretrievable, and you reproach yourself too +bitterly, my sweet friend, for your involuntary injustice to Lady +Leonora. Assuredly it could not be your intention to sacrifice your +repose to Mr L----. You loved him against your will, did you not? And it +is, you know, by the intention that we must judge of actions: the +positive harm done to the world in general is in all cases the only just +measure of criminality. Now what harm is done to the universe, and what +injury can accrue to any individual, provided you keep your own counsel? +As long as your friend is deceived, she is happy; it therefore becomes +your duty, your virtue, to dissemble. I am no great casuist, but all +this appears to me self-evident; and these I always thought were your +principles of philosophy. My dear Olivia, I have drawn out my whole +store of metaphysics with some difficulty for your service; I flatter +myself I have set your poor distracted head to rights. One word +more--for I like to go to the bottom of a subject, when I can do so in +two minutes: virtue is desirable because it makes us happy; +consequently, to make ourselves happy is to be truly virtuous. Methinks +this is sound logic. + +To tell you the truth, my dear Olivia, I do not well conceive how you +have contrived to fall in love with this half-frozen Englishman. 'Tis +done, however--there is no arguing against facts; and this is only one +proof more of what I have always maintained, that destiny is inevitable +and love irresistible. Voltaire's charming inscription on the statue of +Cupid is worth all the volumes of reasoning and morality that ever were +or ever will be written. Banish melancholy thoughts, my dear friend; +they serve no manner of purpose but to increase your passion. Repentance +softens the heart; and everybody knows, that what softens the heart +disposes it more to love: for which reason I never abandon myself to +this dangerous luxury of repentance. Mon Dieu! why will people never +profit by experience? And to what purpose do they read history? Was not +La Valliere ever penitent and ever transgressing? ever in transports or +in tears? You, at all events, my Olivia, can never become a Carmelite or +a Magdalen. You have emancipated yourself from superstition: but whilst +you ridicule all religious orders, do not inflict upon yourself their +penances. The habit of some of the orders has been thought becoming. The +modest costume of a nun is indeed one of the prettiest dresses one can +wear at a masquerade ball, and it might even be worn without a mask, if +it were fashionable: but nothing that is not fashionable can be +becoming. + +Adieu, my adorable Olivia: I will send you by the first opportunity your +Lyons gown, which is really charming. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter xxxix. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + Nov. 30th, -- + +Your truly philosophical letter, my infinitely various Gabrielle, +infused a portion of its charming spirit into my soul. My mind was +fortified and elevated by your eloquence. Who could think that a woman +of such a lively genius could be so profound? and who could expect from +a woman, who has passed her life in the world, such original and deep +reflections? You see you were mistaken when you thought that you had no +genius for philosophic subjects. + +After all that has been said by metaphysicians about the existence and +seat of the moral sense, I think I can solve every difficulty by a new +theory. You know some philosophers suppose the moral sense to be +intuitive and inherent in man: others who deny the doctrine of innate +ideas, treat this notion of innate sentiments as equally absurd. There +they certainly are wrong, for sentiments are widely different from +ideas, and I have that within me which convinces my understanding that +sentiments must be innate, and proportioned to the delicacy of our +sensibility; no person of common sense or feeling can doubt this. But +there are other points which I own puzzled me till yesterday: some +metaphysicians would seat the moral sense inherently in the heart, +others would place it intuitively in the brain, all would confine it to +the soul; now in my opinion it resides primarily and principally in the +nerves, and varies with their variations. Hence the difficulty of making +the moral sense a universal guide of action, since it not only differs +in many individuals, but in the same persons, at different periods of +their existence, or (as I have often experienced) at different hours of +the day. All this must depend upon the mobility of the nervous system; +upon this may _hinge_ the great difficulties which have puzzled +metaphysicians respecting consciousness, identity, &c. If they had +attended less to the nature of the soul, and more to the system of the +nerves, they would have avoided innumerable errors, and probably would +have made incalculably important discoveries. Nothing is wanting but +some great German genius to bring this idea of a moral sense in the +nerves into fashion. Indeed, if our friend Mad. *** would mention it in +the notes to her new novel, it would introduce it in the most +satisfactory manner possible to all the fashionable world abroad; and we +take our notions in this country implicitly from the Continent. As for +you, my dear Gabrielle, I know you cut the gordian knot at once, by +referring, with your favourite moralist, every principle of human nature +to self-love. This does not quite accord with my ideas; there is +something harsh in it, that is repugnant to my sensibility; but you have +a stronger mind than I have, and perhaps your theory is right. + +"You tell me I contradict myself continually," says the acute and witty +Duke de la Rochefoucault: "No, but the human heart, of which I treat, is +in perpetual contradiction to itself." Permit me to avail myself of this +answer, dear Gabrielle, if you should accuse me of contradicting in this + Letter all that I said to you in my last. A few hours after I had +despatched it the state of my nerves changed; I saw things of course in +a new light, and repented having exposed myself to your raillery by +writing in such a Magdalen strain. My nerves were more in fault than I. +When one's mind or one's nerves grow weak, the early associations and +old prejudices of the nursery recur, and tyrannize over one's reason: +from this evil your liberal education and enviable temperament have +preserved you; but have charity for my feminine weakness of frame, which +too often counteracts the masculine strength of my soul. Now that I have +deprecated your ridicule for my last nervous nonsense, I will go on in +a more rational manner. However my better judgment might have been +clouded for a moment, I have recovered strength of mind enough to see +that I am in no way to blame for anything that has happened. If a man is +amiable, and if I have taste and sensibility, I must see and feel it. +"To love," as I remember your friend G****** once finely observed to +you, "to love is a crime only in the eyes of demons, or of priests, who +resemble demons." This is a general proposition, to which none but the +prejudiced can refuse their assent: and what is true in general must be +true in particular. The _accident_, I use the term philosophically, not +popularly, the accident of a man's being married, or, in other words, +having entered imprudently into a barbarous and absurd civil contract, +cannot alter the nature of things. The essence of truth cannot be +affected by the variation of external circumstances. Now the proper +application of metaphysics frees the mind from vulgar prejudices, and +dissipates the baby terrors of an ill-educated conscience. To fall in +love with a married man, and the husband of your intimate friend! How +dreadful the sounds to some ears! even mine were startled at first, till +I called reason to my assistance. Then I had another difficulty to +combat--to own, and own unasked, a passion to the object of it, would +shock the false delicacy of those who are governed by common forms, and +who are slaves to vulgar prejudices: but a little philosophy liberates +our sex from the tyranny of custom, teaches us to disdain hypocrisy, and +to glory in the simplicity of truth. + +Josephine had been perfuming my hair, and I was sitting reading at my +toilette; the door of my dressing-room happened to be half open; L---- +was crossing the gallery, and as he passed I suppose his eye was caught +by my hair, or perhaps he paused a moment, I am not certain how it +was--my eyes were on my book. + +"Ah! vous avez raison, monsieur, c'est la plus belle chevelure! Mais +entrez donc, monsieur," cried Josephine, whom I can never teach to +comprehend or respect English customs, "Eh! entrez, entrez, monsieur; +madame est à sa toilette." + +As I looked up I could not forbear smiling at the extreme ease and +decision of Josephine's manner, and the excessive doubt and anxiety in +the gentleman's appearance. My smile, which, Heaven knows, meant no +encouragement, decided him; timidity instantly gave way to joy; he +entered. What was to be done? I could not turn him out again; I was not +answerable for any foolish conclusions he might draw from what he ought +in politeness to have considered as a thing of course. All I could do +was to blame Josephine for being a French woman. To defend her, and +flatter me, was the gentleman's part; and, for an Englishman, he really +acquitted himself with tolerable grace. Josephine at least was pleased, +and she found such a perpetual employment for monsieur, and his advice +was so necessary, that there was no chance of his departure: so we +talked of French _toilettes_, &c. &c., in French for Josephine's +edification: L---- paid me some compliments upon the recovery of my +looks after my illness--I thought I looked terribly languid--but he +assured me that this languor, in his eyes, was an additional grace; I +could not understand this: he fancied that must be because he did not +express himself well in French; he explained himself more clearly in +English, which Josephine, you know, does not understand, so that she was +now forced to be silent, and I was compelled to take my share in the +conversation. L---- made me comprehend that languor indicating +sensibility of heart was to him the most touching of female charms; I +sighed, and took up the book I had been reading; it was the new novel +which you sent me, dear Gabrielle; I talked of it, in hopes of changing +the course of the conversation; alas! this led to one far more +dangerous: he looked at the passage I had been reading. This brought us +back to sensibility again--to sentiments and descriptions so terribly +apposite! we found such a similarity in our tastes! Yet L---- spoke only +in general, and he preserved a command over himself, which provoked me, +though I knew it to be coquetry; I saw the struggle in his mind, and was +determined to force him to be candid, and to enjoy my triumph. With +these views I went farther than I had intended. The charm of sensibility +he had told me was to him irresistible. Alas! I let him perceive all the +weakness of my heart.--Sensibility is the worst timekeeper in the world. +We were neither of us aware of its progressive motion. The Swiss--my +evil genius--the Swiss knocked at the door to let me know dinner was +served. Dinner! on what vulgar incidents the happiness of life depends! +Dinner came between the discovery of my sentiments and that declaration +of passion which I now must hear--or die. + +"Le diner! mon Dieu!" cried Josephine. "Mais--finissons donc--la +toilette de madame." + +I heard the impertinent Swiss at the other end of the gallery at his +master's door, wondering in broken English where his master could be, +and conjecturing forty absurdities about his boots, and his being out +riding, &c. &c. To sally forth in conscious innocence upon the enemy's +spies, and to terminate the adventure as it was begun, _à la Françoise_, +was my resolution. L---- and Josephine understood me perfectly. + +"Eh! Monsieur de Vaud," said Josephine to the Swiss, whom we met on the +landing-place of the stairs, "madame n'est elle pas coeffée à ravir +aujourd'hui? C'est que monsieur vient d'assister à la toilette de +madame." The Swiss bowed, and said nothing. The bow was to his master, +not to me, and it was a bow of duty, not of inclination. I never saw a +man look so like a machine; he did not even raise his eyes upon me or my +_coëffure_ as we passed. + +Bah! cried Josephine, with an inexpressible accent of mingled +indignation and contempt. She ran downstairs, leaving the Swiss to his +stupidity. I was more afraid of his penetration. But I entered the +dining-room as if nothing extraordinary had happened; and after all, you +know, my dear Gabrielle, nothing extraordinary had befallen us. A +gentleman had assisted at a lady's toilette. Nothing more simple, +nothing more proper in the meridian of Paris; and does propriety change +with meridians? There was company at dinner, and the conversation was +general and uninteresting; L---- endeavoured to support his part with +vivacity; but he had fits of absence and silence, which might have +alarmed Leonora, if she had any suspicion. But she is now perfectly +secure, and absolutely blind: therefore you see there can be no danger +for her happiness in my remaining where I am. For no earthly +consideration would I disturb her peace of mind; there is no sacrifice I +would hesitate for a moment to make to friendship or virtue, but I +cannot surely be called upon to _plant a dagger in my own heart_, to +destroy, for ever to destroy my own felicity without advantage to my +friend. My attachment to L----, as you say, is involuntary, and my love +as pure as it is fervent. I have reason to believe that his sentiments +are the same for me; but of this I am not yet certain. There is the +danger, and the only real danger for Leonora's happiness; for whilst +this uncertainty and his consequent fits of absence and imprudence last, +there is hazard every moment of her being alarmed. But when L---- once +decides, everything arranges itself, you know, Gabrielle, and prudence +becomes a duty to ourselves and to Leonora. No word, or look, or +coquetry could then escape us; we should be unpardonable if we did not +conduct ourselves with the most scrupulous delicacy and attention to her +feelings. I am amazed that L----, who has really a good understanding, +does not make these reflections, and is not determined by this +calculation. For his, for my own, but most for Leonora's sake, I wish +that this cruel suspense were at an end. Adieu, dear and amiable +Gabrielle.--These things are managed better in France. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xl. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + L---- Castle. + + Dear Margaret, + +I arrived here late yesterday evening in high spirits, and high hopes of +surprising and delighting all the world by my unexpected appearance; but +my pride was checked, and my tone changed the moment I saw Leonora. +Never was any human being so altered in her looks in so short a time. I +had just, and but just presence of mind enough not to say so. I am +astonished that it does not strike Mr L----. As soon as she left the +room, I asked him if Lady Leonora had been ill? No; perfectly well! +perfectly well!--Did not he perceive that she looked extremely ill? No; +she might be paler than usual: that was all that Mr L---- had observed. +Lady Olivia, after a pause, added, that Leonora certainly had not +appeared well lately, but this was nothing extraordinary in her +_situation_. _Situation!_ nonsense! Lady Olivia went on with sentimental +hypocrisy of look and tone, saying fine things, to which I paid little +attention. Virtue in words, and vice in actions! thought I. People of +certain pretensions in the court of sentiment think that they can pass +false virtues upon the world for real, as some ladies, entitled by their +rank to wear jewels, appear in false stones, believing that it will be +taken for granted they would wear nothing but diamonds. Not one eye in a +hundred detects the difference at first, but in time the hundredth eye +comes, and then they must for ever hide their diminished rays. Beware! +Lady Olivia, beware! + +Leonora is ill, or unhappy, or both; but she will not allow that she is +either. On one subject she is impenetrable: a hundred, a thousand +different ways within these four-and-twenty hours have I led to it, with +all the ingenuity and all the delicacy of which I am mistress; but all +to no purpose. Neither by provocation, persuasion, laughing, teasing, +questioning, cross, or round about, pushing, squeezing, encompassing, +taking for granted, wondering, or blundering, could I gain my point. +Every look guarded--every syllable measured--yet unequivocal-- + + "She said no more than just the thing she ought." + +Because I could find no fault I was half angry. I respect the motive of +this reserve; but towards me it is misplaced, and ill-judged, and it +must not exist. I have often declared that I would never condescend to +play the part of a confidante to any princess or heroine upon earth. But +Leonora is neither princess nor heroine, and I would be her confidante, +but she will not let me. Now I am punished for my pride. If she would +only trust me, if she would only tell me what has passed since I went, +and all that now weighs upon her mind, I could certainly be of some use. +I could and would say everything that she might scruple to hint to Lady +Olivia, and I will answer for it I would make her raise the siege. But I +cannot believe Mr L---- to be such a madman as to think of attaching +himself seriously to a woman like Olivia, when he has such a wife as +Leonora. That he was amusing himself with Olivia I saw, or thought I +saw, some time ago, and I rather wondered that Leonora was uneasy: for +all husbands will flirt, and all wives must bear it, thought I. When +such a coquette as this fell in his way, and made advances, he would +have been more than man if he had receded. Of course, I thought, he must +despise and laugh at her all the time he was flattering and gallanting +her ladyship. This would have been fair play, and comic; but the comedy +should have ended by this time. I am now really afraid it will turn into +a tragedy. I, even I! am alarmed. I must prevail upon Leonora to speak +to me without reserve. I see her suffer, and I must share her grief. +Have not I always done so from the time we were children? and now, when +she most wants a friend, am not I worthy to share her confidence? Can +she mistake friendship for impertinent curiosity? Does not she know that +I would not be burthened with the secrets of anybody whom I did not +love? If she thinks otherwise, she does me injustice, and I will tell +her so before I sleep. She does not know how well I love her. + + * * * * * + +My dear Margaret, Leonora and I have had a quarrel--the first serious +quarrel we ever had in our lives; and the end of it is, that she is an +angel, and I am a fool. Just as I laid down my pen after writing to you, +though it was long past midnight, I marched into Leonora's apartment, +resolved to surprise or to force her confidence. I found her awake, as I +expected, and up and dressed, as I did not expect, sitting in her +dressing-room, her head leaning upon her hand. I knew what she was +thinking of; she had a heap of Mr L----'s old letters beside her. She +denied that she was in tears, and I will not swear to the tears, but I +think I saw signs of them notwithstanding. I spoke out;--but in +vain--all in vain. At last I flew into a passion, and reproached her +bitterly. She answered me with that air of dignified tenderness which is +peculiar to her--"If you believe me to be unhappy, my dear Helen, is +this a time to reproach me unjustly?" I was brought to reason and to +tears, and after asking pardon, like a foolish naughty child, was kissed +and forgiven, upon a promise never to do so any more; a promise, which I +hope Heaven will grant me grace and strength of mind enough to keep. I +was certainly wrong to attempt to force her secret from her. Leonora's +confidence is always given, never yielded; and in her, openness is a +virtue, not a weakness. But I wish she would not contrive to be always +in the right. In all our quarrels, in all the variations of my humour, I +am obliged to end by doing homage to her reason, as the Chinese +mariners, in every change of weather, burn incense before the needle. + + Your affectionate + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xli. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + L---- Castle, Friday. + + My dear General, + +I hoped that you would have favoured us with a passing visit in your way +from town, but I know you will tell me that friendship must not +interfere with the interests of the service. I have reason to curse +those interests; they are for ever at variance with mine. I had a +particular desire to speak to you upon a subject, on which it is not +agreeable to me to write. Lady Leonora also wished extremely and +disinterestedly for your company. She does not know how much she is +obliged to you. The laconic advice you gave me some time ago influenced +my conduct longer than counsel which is in opposition to our passions +usually does, and it has haunted my imagination perpetually:--"My dear +L----, do not end by being the dupe of a _Frenchified_ coquette." + +My dear friend, of that there is no danger. No man upon earth despises +or detests coquettes more than I do, be they French or English. I think, +however, that a foreign-born, or foreign-bred coquette, has more of the +ease of _practice_, and less of the awkwardness of conscience, than a +home-bred flirt, and is in reality less blamable, for she breaks no +restraints of custom or education; she does only what she has seen her +mother do before her, and what is authorized by the example of most of +the fashionable ladies of her acquaintance. But let us put flirts and +coquettes quite out of the question. My dear general, you know that I am +used to women, and take it upon my word, that the lady to whom I allude +is more tender and passionate than vain. Every woman has, or has had, a +tincture of vanity; but there are a few, and those are to me the most +amiable of the sex, who + + "Feel every vanity in fondness lost." + +You know that I am delicate, even fastidious, in my taste for female +manners. Nothing can in my opinion make amends for any offence against +propriety, except it be sensibility--genuine, generous sensibility. This +can, in my mind, cover a multitude of faults. There is so much of +selfishness, of hypocrisy, of coldness, in what is usually called female +virtue, that I often turn with distaste from those to whom I am +compelled to do homage for the sake of the general good of society. I am +not _charlatan_ enough to pretend upon all occasions to prefer the +public advantage to my own. I confess, that let a woman be ever so fair, +or good, or wise-- + + "Be she with that goodness blest + Which may merit name of best, + If she be not such to me, + What care I how good she be?" + +And I will further acknowledge, that I am not easily satisfied with the +manner in which a woman is kind to me: if it be duty-work kindness, I +would not give thanks for it: it is done for her reputation, not for me, +and let the world thank her. To _the best of wives_ I should make the +worst of husbands. No--I should, I hope, pay her in her own coin, with +all due observances, attentions, and respect, but without one grain of +love. Love is only to be had for love; and without it, nothing a woman +can give appears to me worth having. I do not desire to be loved well +enough to satisfy fathers and mothers, and uncles and aunts; well enough +to decide a woman to marry me rather than disoblige her friends, or run +the chance of having _many a worse offer_, and living perhaps to be an +old maid. I do not desire to be loved well enough to keep a woman true +and faithful to me "_till death us do part_:" in short, I do not desire +to be loved well enough for a husband; I desire to be loved sufficiently +for a lover; not only above all other persons, but above all other +things, all other considerations--to be the first and last object in +the heart of the woman to whom I am attached: I wish to feel that I +sustain and fill the whole of her heart. I must be certain that I am +everything to her, as she is everything to me; that there is no +imaginable situation in which she would not live with me, in which she +would not be happy to live with me; no possible sacrifice that she would +not make for me; or rather, that nothing she could do should appear a +sacrifice. Are these exorbitant expectations? I am capable of all this, +and more, for a woman I love; and it is my pride or my misfortune to be +able to love upon no other terms. Such proofs of attachment it may be +difficult to obtain, and even to give; more difficult, I am sensible, +for a wife than for a mistress. A young lady who is married _secundum +artem_, with licence and consent of friends, can give no extraordinary +instances of affection. I should not consider it as an indisputable +proof of love, that she does me the honour to give me her hand in a +church, or that she condescends to bespeak my liveries, or to be handed +into her own coach with all the blushing honours of a bride; all the +paraphernalia of a wife secured, all the prudent and necessary provision +made both for matrimonial love and hatred, dower, pin-money, and +separate maintenance on the one hand, and on the other, lands, +tenements, and hereditaments for the future son and heir, and sums +without end for younger children to the tenth and twentieth possibility, +_as the case may be, nothing herein contained to the contrary in anywise +notwithstanding_. Such a jargon Cupid does not understand. A woman may +love this most convenient personage, her lawful husband; but I should +think it difficult for the delicacy of female passion to survive the +cool preparations for hymeneal felicity. At all events, you will allow +the lady makes no sacrifice, she shows no great generosity, and she +may, or she may not, be touched at the altar by the divine flame. My +good general, when you are a husband you will feel these things as I do; +till then, it is very easy to talk as you do, and to admire other men's +wives, and to wish Heaven had blessed you with such a treasure. For my +part, the single idea, that a woman thinks it her duty to be fond of me, +would deprive me of all pleasure in her love. No man can be more +sensible than I am of the amiable and estimable qualities of Lady +Leonora L----; I should be a brute and a liar if I hesitated to give the +fullest testimony in her praise; but such is the infirmity of my nature, +that I could pardon some faults more easily than I could like some +virtues. The virtues which leave me in doubt of a woman's love I can +esteem, but that is all. Lady Leonora is calm, serene, perfectly +sweet-tempered, without jealousy and without suspicion; in one word, +without love. If she loved me, she never could have been the wife she +has been for some months past. You will laugh at my being angry with a +wife for not being jealous. But so it is. Certain defects of temper I +could bear, if I considered them as symptoms of strong affection. When I +for a moment believed that Leonora suffered, when I attributed her +fainting at our fête champêtre to jealousy, I was so much alarmed and +touched, that I absolutely forgot her rival. I did more; to prevent her +feeling uneasiness, to destroy the suspicions which I imagined had been +awakened in her mind, I hesitated not to sacrifice all the pleasure and +all the vanity which a man of my age might reasonably be supposed to +feel in the prospect of a new and not inglorious conquest; I left home +immediately, and went to meet you, my dear friend, on your return from +abroad. This visit I do not set down to your account, but to that of +honour--foolish, unnecessary honour. You half-persuaded me, that your +hearsay Parisian evidence was more to be trusted than my own judgment, +and I returned home with the resolution not to be the dupe of a +coquette. Leonora's reception of me was delightful; I never saw her in +such spirits, or so amiable. But I could not help wishing to ascertain +whether I had attributed her fainting to the real cause. This proof I +tempted to my cost. Instead of showing any tender alarm at the renewal +of my obvious attentions to her rival, she was perfectly calm and +collected, went on with her usual occupations, fulfilled all her duties, +never reproached me by word or look, never for one moment betrayed +impatience, ill-humour, suspicion, or jealousy; in short, I found that I +had been fool enough to attribute to excess of affection an accident +which proceeded merely from the situation of her health. If anxiety of +mind had been the cause of her fainting at the fête champêtre, she would +since have felt and shown agitation on a thousand occasions, where she +has been perfectly tranquil. Her friend Mrs C----, who returned here a +few days ago, seems to imagine that Leonora looks ill; but I shall not +again be led to mistake bodily indisposition for mental suffering. +Leonora's conduct argues great insensibility of soul, or great command; +great insensibility, I think: for I cannot imagine such command of +temper possible to any but a woman who feels indifference for the +offender. Yet, even now that I have steeled myself with this conviction, +I am scarcely bold enough to hazard the chance of giving her pain. +Absurd weakness! It has been clearly proved to my understanding, that my +irresolution, my scruples of conscience, my combats between love and +esteem, are more likely to betray the real state of my mind than any +decision that I could make. I decide, then--I determine to be happy +with a woman who has a soul capable of feeling, not merely what is +called conjugal affection, but the passion of love; who is capable of +sacrificing everything to love; who has given me proofs of candour and +greatness of mind, which I value far above all her wit, grace, and +beauty. My dear general, I know all that you can tell, all that you can +hint concerning her history abroad. I know it from her own lips. It was +told to me in a manner that made her my admiration. It was told to me as +a preservative against the danger of loving her. It was told to me with +the generous design of protecting Leonora's happiness; and all this at +the moment when I was beloved, tenderly beloved. She is above +dissimulation: she scorns the arts, the fears of her sex. She knows you +are her enemy, and yet she esteems you; she urged me to speak to you +with the utmost openness: "Let me never," said she, "be the cause of +your feeling less confidence or less affection for the best of friends." + +R*** is sacrificed to me; that R***, with whose cursed name you +tormented me. My dear friend, she will force your admiration, as she has +won my love. + + Yours sincerely, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter xlij. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B._ + + + L---- Castle. + +As I am not trusted with the secret, I may, my dear Margaret, use my own +eyes and ears as I please to find it out; and I know Leonora's +countenance so well, that I see everything that passes in her mind just +as clearly as if she had told it to me in words. + +It grieves me more than I can express, to see her suffering as she +does. I am now convinced that she has reason to be unhappy; and, what is +worse, I do not see what course she can follow to recover her happiness. +All her forbearance, all her patience, all her sweet temper, I perceive, +are useless, or worse than useless, injurious to her in her strange +husband's opinion. I never liked him thoroughly, and now I detest him. +He thinks her cold, insensible! She insensible!--Brute! Idiot. +Everything that she says or does displeases him. The merest trifles +excite the most cruel suspicions. He totally misunderstands her +character, and sees everything about her in a false light. In short, he +is under the dominion of an artful fiend, who works as she pleases upon +his passions--upon his pride, which is his ruling passion. + +This evening Lady Olivia began confessing that she had too much +sensibility, that she was of an excessively susceptible temper, and that +she should be terribly jealous of the affections of any person she +loved. She did not know how love _could_ exist without jealousy. Mr +L---- was present, and listening eagerly. Leonora's lips were silent; +not so her countenance. I was in hopes Mr L---- would have remarked its +beautiful touching expression; but his eyes were fixed upon Olivia. I +could have . . . but let me go on. Lady Olivia had the malice suddenly +to appeal to Leonora, and asked, whether she was never jealous of her +husband? Leonora, astonished by her assurance, paused for an instant, +and then replied, "It would be difficult to convince me that I had any +reason to be jealous of Mr L----, I esteem him so much."--"I wish to +Heaven!" exclaimed Lady Olivia, her eyes turned upwards with a fine St +Cecilia expression, whilst Mr L----'s attention was fixed upon her, +"would to Heaven I was blessed with such a _reasonable_ temper!"--"When +you are wishing to Heaven, Lady Olivia," said I, "had not you better ask +for _all you want_ at once; not only such a reasonable temper, but such +a feeling heart?" + +Some of the company smiled. Lady Olivia, practised as she is, looked +disconcerted; Mr L---- grave and impenetrable; Leonora, blushing, turned +away to the pianoforte. Mr L---- remained talking with Lady Olivia, and +he neither saw nor heard her. If Leonora had sung like an angel, it +would have made no impression. She turned over the leaves of her music +quickly, to a lively air, and played it immediately, to prevent my +perceiving how much she felt. Poor Leonora! you are but a bad +dissembler, and it is in vain to try to conceal yourself from me. + +I was so sorry for her, and so incensed with Olivia this night, that I +could not restrain myself, and I made matters worse. At supper I came +almost to open war with her ladyship. I cannot remember exactly what I +said, but I know that I threw out the most severe inuendoes which +politeness could permit: and what _was_ the consequence? Mr L---- pitied +Olivia and hated me; Leonora was in misery the whole time; and her +husband probably thought that she was the instigator, though she was +perfectly innocent. My dear Margaret, where will all this end? and how +much more mischief shall I do with the best intentions possible? + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xliij. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +Your letter has travelled after me God knows where, my dear L----, and +has caught me at last with my foot in the stirrup. I have just had time +to look it over. I find, in short, that you are in love. I give you joy! +But be in love like a madman, not like a fool. Call a demirep an angel, +and welcome; but remember that such angels are to be had any day in the +year; and such a wife as yours is not to be had for the mines of +Golconda. Coin your heart, and drop your blood for it, and you will +never be loved by any other woman so well as you are by Lady Leonora +L----. + +As to your jealous hypochondriacism, more of that when I have more +leisure. In the meantime I wish it well cured. + + I am, my dear friend, + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xliv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +I triumph! dear Gabrielle, give me joy! Never was triumph more complete. +L---- loves me! That I knew long ago; but I have at last forced from his +proud heart the avowal of his passion. Love and Olivia are victorious +over scruples, prejudice, pride, and superstition! + +Leonora feels not--sees not: she requires, she excites no pity. Long may +her delusion last! But even were it this moment to dissipate, what cause +have I for remorse? "Who is most to blame, he who ceases to love, or she +who ceases to please?" Leonora perhaps thinks that she loves her +husband; and no doubt she does so in a conjugal sort of a way: he _has_ +loved his wife; but be it mine to prove that his heart is suited to far +other raptures; and if Olivia be called upon for sacrifices, _Olivia_ +can make them. + + "Let wealth, let honour wait the wedded dame, + August her deed, and sacred be her fame; + Before true passion all those views remove, + Fame, wealth, and honour, what are you to love?" + +These lines, though quoted perpetually by the tender and passionate, can +never become stale and vulgar; they will always recur in certain +situations to persons of delicate sensibility, for they at once express +all that can be said, and justify all that can be felt. My amiable +Gabrielle, adieu. Pardon me if to-day I have no soul even for +friendship. This day is all for love. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xlv. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +What the devil would you have of your wife, my dear L----? You would be +loved above all earthly considerations; honour, duty, virtue and +religion inclusive, would you? and you would have a wife with her head +in the clouds, would you? I wish you were married to one of the +all-for-love heroines, who would treat you with bowl and dagger every +day of your life. In your opinion sensibility covers a multitude of +faults--you would have said _sins_: so it had need, for it produces a +multitude. Pray what brings hundreds and thousands of women to the +Piazzas of Covent Garden but sensibility? What does the colonel's, and +the captain's, and the ensign's mistress talk of but _sensibility_? And +are you, my dear friend, to be duped by this hackneyed word? And should +you really think it an indisputable proof of a lady's love, that she +would jump out of a two pair of stairs window into your arms? Now I +should think myself sure of such a woman's love only just whilst I held +her, and scarcely then; for I, who in my own way am jealous as well as +yourself, should in this case be jealous of wickedness, and should +strongly suspect that she would love the first devil that she saw better +than me. + +You are always raving about sacrifices. Your Cupid must be a very +vindictive little god. Mine is a good-humoured, rosy little fellow, who +desires no better than to see me laugh and be happy. But to every man +his own Cupid. If you cannot believe in love without sacrifices, you +must have them, to be sure. And now, in sober sadness, what do you think +your heroine would sacrifice for you? Her reputation? that, pardon me, +is out of her power. Her virtue? I have no doubt she would. But before I +can estimate the value of this sacrifice, I must know whether she makes +it to you or to her pleasure. Would she give up in any instance her +pleasure for your happiness? This is not an easy matter to ascertain +with respect to a mistress: but your wife has put it beyond a doubt, +that she prefers your happiness not only to her pleasure, but to her +pride, and to everything that the sex usually prefer to a husband. You +have been wounded by a poisoned arrow; but you have a faithful wife who +can extract the poison. Lady Leonora's affection is not a mere fit of +goodness and generosity, such as I have seen in many women, but it is a +steadiness of attachment in the hour of trial, which I have seen in few. +For several months past you have, by your own account, put her temper +and her love to the most severe tests, yet she has never failed for one +moment, never reproached you by word or look.--But may be she has no +feeling.--No feeling! you can have none, if you say so: no penetration, +if you think so. Would not you think me a tyrant if I put a poor fellow +on the picket, and told you, when he bore it without a groan, that it +was because he could not feel? You do worse, you torture the soul of the +woman who loves you; she endures, she is calm, she smiles upon you even +in agony; and you tell me she cannot feel! she cannot feel like an +Olivia! No; and so much the better for her husband, for she will then +have only feeling enough for him, she will not extend her charity to all +his sex. But Olivia has such candour and magnanimity, that I must admire +her! I humbly thank her for offering to make me her confidant, for +offering to tell me what I know already, and what she is certain that I +know. These were good moves, but I understand the game as well as her +ladyship does. As to her making a friend of me; if she means an enemy to +Lady Leonora L----, I would sooner see her--in heaven: but if she would +do me the favour to think no more of your heart, which is too good for +her, and to accept of my--my--what shall I say?--my devoirs, I am at her +command. She shall drive my curricle, &c. &c. She would suit me vastly +well for a month or two, and by that time poor R*** would make his +appearance, or somebody in his stead: at the worst, I should have a +chance of some blessed metaphysical quirk, which would prove that +inconstancy was a virtue, or that a new love is better than an old one. +When it came to that, I should make my best bow, put on my most +disconsolate face, and retire. + +You will read all this in a very different spirit from that in which it +is written. If you are angry--no matter: I am cool. I tell you +beforehand that I will not fight you for anything I have said in this +letter, or that I ever may say about your Olivia. Therefore, my dear +L----, save yourself the trouble of challenging me. I thank God I have +reputation enough to be able to dispense with the glory of blowing out +your brains. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + Letter xlvi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +We have been very gay here the last few days: the gallant and +accomplished Prince ---- has been here. H****, the witty H****, who is +his favourite companion, introduced him; and he seems so much charmed +with the old castle, its towers and battlements, and with its +_cynosure_, that I know not when he will be able to prevail upon himself +to depart. To-morrow, he says; but so he has said these ten days: he +cannot resist the entreaties of his kind host and hostess to stay +another day. The soft accent of the beautiful Leonora will certainly +detain him _one day more_, and her gracious smile will bereave him of +rest for months to come. He has evidently fallen desperately in love +with her. Now we shall see virtue in danger. + +I have always been of opinion with St Evremond and Ninon de l'Enclos, +that no female virtue can stand every species of test; fortunately it is +not always exposed to trial. Reputation may be preserved by certain +persons in certain situations, upon very easy terms. Leonora, for +instance, is armed so strong in character, that no common mortal will +venture to attack her. It would be presumption little short of high +treason to imagine the fall of the Lady Leonora L----, the daughter of +the Duchess of ***, who, with a long line of immaculate baronesses in +their own right, each in her armour of stiff stays, stands frowning +defiance upon the adventurous knights. More alarming still to the modern +seducer appears a judge in his long wig, and a jury with their long +faces, ready to bring in their verdict, and to award damages +proportionate to the rank and fortune of the parties. Then the former +reputation of the lady is talked of, and the irreparable injury +sustained by the disconsolate husband from the loss of the solace and +affection of this paragon of wives. And it is proved that she lived in +the most perfect harmony with him till the vile seducer appeared; who, +in aggravation of damages, was a confidential friend of the husband's, +&c. &c. &c. &c. &c. + +Brave, indeed, and desperately in love must be the man, who could dare +all these to deserve the fair. But princes are, it is said, naturally +brave, and ambitious of conquering difficulties. + +I have insinuated these reflections in a general way to L----, who +applies them so as to plague himself sufficiently. Heaven is my witness, +that I mean no injury to Lady Leonora; yet I fear that there are +moments, when my respect for her superiority, joined to the +consciousness of my own weakness, overpowers me, and I almost envy her +the right she retains to the esteem of the man I love. This is a +blamable weakness--I know it--I reproach myself bitterly; but all I can +do is to confess it candidly. L---- sees my conflicts, and knows how to +value the sensibility of my fond heart. Adieu, my Gabrielle. When shall +I be happy? since even love has its torments, and I am thus doomed to be +ever a victim to the tenderness of my soul. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xlvij. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + +I do not know whether I pity, love, or admire Leonora most. Just when +her mind was deeply wounded by her husband's neglect, and when her +jealousy was worked to the highest pitch by his passion for her +dangerous rival, the Prince ---- arrives here, and struck by Leonora's +charms of mind and person, falls passionately in love with her. Probably +his highness's friend H---- had given him a hint of the existing +circumstances, and he thought a more propitious moment could scarcely be +found for making an impression upon a female mind. He judged of Leonora +by other women. And I, like a simpleton, judged of her by myself. With +shame I confess to you, my dear Margaret, that notwithstanding all my +past experience, I did expect that she would have done as I am afraid I +should have done in her situation. I think that I could not have +resisted the temptation of coquetting a little--a very little--just to +revive the passion of the man whom I really loved. This expedient +succeeds so often with that wise sex, who never rightly know the value +of a heart, except when they have just won it, or at the moment when +they are on the point of losing it. In Leonora's place and in such an +emergency, I should certainly have employed that frightful monster +jealousy to waken sleeping love; since he, and only he, can do it +expeditiously and effectually. This I have hinted to Leonora, talking +always _in generals_; for, since my total overthrow, I have never dared +to come to particulars: but by putting cases and _confessing myself_, I +contrived to make my thoughts understood. I then boasted of the extreme +facility of the means I would adopt to recover a heart. Leonora answered +in the words of a celebrated great man:--"C'est facile de se servir de +pareils moyens; c'est difficile de s'y résoudre." + +"But if no other means would succeed," said I, "would not you sacrifice +your pride to your love?" + +"My pride, willingly; but not my sense of what is right," said she, with +an indescribable mixture of tenderness and firmness in her manner. + +"Can a little coquetry in a good cause be such a heinous offence?" +persisted I. I knew that I was wrong all the time; but I delighted in +seeing how right she was. + +No--she would not allow her mind to be cheated by female sophistry; nor +yet by the male casuistry of, "The end sanctifies the means." + +"If you had the misfortune to lose the affections of the man you love, +and if you were quite certain of regaining them by following my recipe?" +said I. + +Never shall I forget the look with which Leonora left me, and the accent +with which she said, "My dear Helen, if it were ever to be my misfortune +to lose my husband's love, I would not, even if I were certain of +success, attempt to regain it by any unworthy arts. How could I wish to +regain his love at the hazard of losing his esteem, and the certainty of +forfeiting my own!" + +I said no more--I had nothing more to say: I saw that I had given pain, +and I have never touched upon the subject since. But her practice is +even beyond her theory. Never, by deed, or look, or word, or thought +(for I see all her thoughts in her eloquent countenance), has she +swerved from her principles. No prudery--no coquetry--no +mock-humility--no triumph. Never for an instant did she, by a proud air, +say to her husband--See what others think of me! Never did a resentful +look say to him--Inconstant!--revenge is in my power! Never even did a +reproachful sigh express--I am injured, yet I do not retaliate. + +Mr L---- is blind; he is infatuated; he is absolutely bereaved of +judgment by a perfidious, ungrateful, and cruel wretch. Let me vent my +indignation to you, dear Margaret, or it will explode, perhaps, when it +may do Leonora mischief. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xlviij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +This Lady Leonora, in her simplicity, never dreamed of love till the +prince's passion was too visible and audible to be misunderstood: and +then she changed her tone, and checked her simplicity, and was so +reserved, and so dignified, and so _proper_, it was quite edifying, +especially to a poor sinner of a coquette like me; nothing _piquante_; +nothing _agaçante_; nothing _demi-voilée_; no retiring to be pursued; +not a single manoeuvre of coquetry did she practise. This convinces me +that she cares not in the least for her husband; because, if she really +loved him, and wished to reclaim his heart, what so natural or so simple +as to excite his jealousy, and thus revive his love? After neglecting +this golden opportunity, she can never convince me that she is really +anxious about her husband's heart. This I hinted to L----, and his own +susceptibility had hinted it to him efficaciously before I spoke. + +Though Leonora has been so correct hitherto, and so cold to the prince +in her husband's presence, I have my suspicions, that if in his absence +proper means were taken, if her pride were roused by apt suggestions, if +it were delicately pointed out to her that she is shamefully neglected, +that she is a cipher in her own house, that her husband presumes too +much upon her sweetness of temper, that his inconstancy is wondered at +by all who have eyes, and that a little retaliation might become her +ladyship, I would not answer for her forbearance, that is to say, if all +this were done by a dexterous man, a lover, and a prince! I shall take +care my opinions shall be known; for I cannot endure to have the esteem +of the man I love monopolized. Exposed to temptation as I have been, and +with as ardent affections, Leonora, or I am much mistaken, would not +have been more estimable. Adieu, my dearest Gabrielle. Nous verrons! +nous verrons! + + Olivia. + + * * * * * + + Sunday evening. + +P.S.--I open my letter to tell you that the prince is actually gone. +Doubtless he will return at a more auspicious moment. + +Lady M---- and all the troop of friends are to depart on Monday; all but +_the_ bosom friend, _l'amie intime_, that insupportable Helen, who is +ever at daggers-drawing with me. So much the better! L---- sees her +cabals with his wife; she is a partisan without the art to be so to any +purpose, and her manoeuvres tend only to increase his partiality for his +Olivia. + + + + + Letter xlix. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +* * * * * * * +* * * * * In short, Leonora has discovered all that she +might have seen months ago between her husband and me. What will be the +consequence? I long, yet almost fear, to meet her again. She is now in +her own apartment, writing, I presume, to her mother for advice. + + + + + Letter l. + + _Leonora to Olivia._ + + + [Left on Lady Olivia's dressing-table.] + +O you, whom no kindness can touch, whom no honour can bind, whom no +faith can hold, enjoy the torments you have inflicted on me! enjoy the +triumph of having betrayed a confiding friend! Friend no more--affect, +presume no longer to call me friend! I am under no necessity to +dissemble, and dissimulation is foreign to my habits, and abhorrent to +my nature! I know you to be my enemy, and I say so--my most cruel enemy; +one who could, without reluctance or temptation, rob me of all I hold +most dear. Yes, without temptation; for you do not love my husband, +Olivia. On this point I cannot be mistaken; I know too well what it is +to love him. Had you been struck by his great or good and amiable +qualities, charmed by his engaging manners, or seduced by the violence +of his passion; and had I seen you honourably endeavour to repress that +passion; had I seen in you the slightest disposition to sacrifice your +pleasure or your vanity to friendship or to duty, I think I could have +forgiven, I am sure I should have pitied you. But you felt no pity for +me, no shame for yourself; you made no attempt to avoid, you invited +the danger. Mr L---- was not the deceiver, but the deceived. By every +art and every charm in your power--and you have many--you won upon his +senses and worked upon his imagination; you saw, and made it your pride +to conquer the scruples of that affection he once felt for his wife, and +that wife was your friend. By passing bounds, which he could not +conceive that any woman could pass, except in the delirium of passion, +you made him believe that your love for him exceeds all that I feel. How +he will find himself deceived! If you had loved him as I do, you could +not so easily have forfeited all claim to his esteem. Had you loved him +so much, you would have loved honour more. + +It is possible that Mr L---- may taste some pleasure with you whilst his +delusion lasts, whilst his imagination paints you, as mine once did, in +false colours, possessed of generous virtues, and the victim of +excessive sensibility: but when he sees you such as you are, he will +recoil from you with aversion, he will reject you with contempt. + +Knowing my opinion of you, Lady Olivia, you will not choose to remain in +this house; nor can I desire for my guest one whom I can no longer, in +private or in public, make my companion. Adieu. + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter li. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + L---- Castle, Midnight. + +Farewell for ever!--it must be so--Farewell for ever! Would to Heaven I +had summoned courage sooner to pronounce these fatal, necessary, +irrevocable words: then had I parted from you without remorse, without +the obloquy to which I am now exposed. Oh, my dearest L----! Mine, do I +still dare to call you? Yes, mine for the last time, I must call you, +mine I must fancy you, though for the impious thought the Furies +themselves were to haunt me to madness. My dearest L----, never more +must we meet in this world! Think not that my weak voice alone forbids +it: no, a stronger voice than mine is heard--an injured wife reclaims +you. What a letter have I just received . . .!--from . . . Leonora! She +tells me that she no longer desires for her guest one whom she cannot, +in public or private, make her companion--O Leonora, it was sufficient +to banish me from your heart! She tells me not only that I have for ever +forfeited her confidence, her esteem, her affection; but that I shall +soon be your aversion and contempt. O cruel, cruel words! But I +submit--I have deserved it all--I have robbed her of a heart above all +price. Leonora, why did you not reproach me more bitterly? I desire, I +implore to be crushed, to be annihilated by your vengeance! Most +admirable, most virtuous, most estimable of women, best of wives, I have +with sacrilegious love profaned a soul consecrated to you and conjugal +virtue. I acknowledge my crime; trample upon me as you will, I am +humbled in the dust. More than all your bitterest reproaches do I feel +the remorse of having for a moment interrupted such serenity of +happiness. + +Oh, why did you persuade me, L----, and why did I believe that Leonora +was calm and free from all suspicion? How could I believe that any +woman whom you had ever loved, could remain blind to your inconstancy, +or feel secure indifference? Happy woman! in you to love is not a crime; +you may glory in your passion, whilst I must hide mine from every human +eye, drop in shameful secrecy the burning tear, stifle the struggling +sigh, blush at the conflicts of virtue and sensibility, and carry shame +and remorse with me to the grave. Happy Leonora! happy even when most +injured, you have a right to complain to him you love;--he is yours--you +are his wife--his esteem, his affection are yours. On Olivia he has +bestowed but a transient thought, and eternal ignominy must be her +portion. So let it be--so I wish it to be. Would to Heaven I may thus +atone for the past, and secure your future felicity. Fly to her, my +dearest L----, I conjure you! throw yourself at her feet, entreat, +implore, obtain her forgiveness. She cannot refuse it to your tears, to +your caresses. To withstand them she must be more or less than woman. +No, she cannot resist your voice when it speaks words of peace and love; +she will press you with transport to her heart, and Olivia, poor Olivia, +will be for ever forgotten; yet she will rejoice in your felicity; +absolved perhaps in the eye of Heaven, though banished from your +society, she will die content. + +Full well am I aware of the consequences of quitting thus precipitately +the house of Lady Leonora L----; but nothing that concerns myself alone +can for a moment make me hesitate to do that which the sentiment of +virtue dictates, and which is yet more strongly urged by regard for the +happiness of one, who once allowed me to call her friend. I know my +reputation is irrecoverably sacrificed; but it is to one for whom I +would lay down my life. Can a woman who feels as I do deem any earthly +good a sacrifice for him she loves? Dear L----, adieu for ever! + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lij. + + _Leonora to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Dearest Mother, + + +It is all over--my husband is gone--gone perhaps for ever--all is in +vain--all is lost! + +Without saying more to you than I ought, I may tell you, that in +consequence of an indignant letter which I wrote last night to Lady +Olivia, she left my house this morning early, before any of the family +were up. Mr L---- heard of her departure before I did. He has, I will +not say followed her, for of that I am not certain; but he has quitted +home, and without giving me one kind look at parting, without even +noticing a letter which I left last night upon his table. At what slight +things we catch to save us from despair! How obstinate, how vain is +hope! I fondly hoped, even to the last moment, that this letter, this +foolish letter, would work a sudden change in my husband's heart, would +operate miracles, would restore me to happiness. I fancied, absurdly +fancied, that laying open my whole soul to him would have an effect upon +his mind. Alas! has not my whole soul been always open to him? Could +this letter tell him anything but what he knows already or what he will +never know--how well I love him! I was weak to expect so much from it; +yet as it expressed without complaint the anguish of disappointed +affection, it deserved at least some acknowledgment. Could not he have +said, "My dear Leonora, I thank you for your letter"?--or more coldly +still--"Leonora, I have received your letter"? Even that would have been +some relief to me: but now all is despair. I saw him just when he was +going away, but for a moment; till the last instant he was not to be +seen; then, in spite of all his command of countenance, I discerned +strong marks of agitation; but towards me an air of resentment, more +than any disposition to kinder thoughts. I fancy that he scarcely knew +what he said, nor, I am sure, did I. He talked, I remember, of having +immediate business in town, and I endeavoured to believe him. Contrary +to his usual composed manner, he was in such haste to be gone, that I +was obliged to send his watch and purse after him, which he had left on +his dressing-table. How melancholy his room looked to me! His clothes +just as he had left them--a rose which Lady Olivia gave him yesterday +was in water on his table. My letter was not there; so he has it, +probably unread. He will read it some time or other, perhaps--and some +time or other, perhaps, when I am dead and gone, he will believe I loved +him. Could he have known what I felt at the moment when he turned from +me, he would have pitied me; for his nature, his character, cannot be +quite altered in a few months, though he has ceased to love Leonora. +From the window of his own room I watched for the last glimpse of +him--heard him call to the postilions, and bid them "drive +fast--faster." This was the last sound I heard of his voice. When shall +I hear that voice again? I think that I shall certainly hear from him +the day after to-morrow--and I wish to-day and to-morrow were gone. + +I am afraid that you will think me very weak; but, my dear mother, I +have no motive for fortitude now; and perhaps it might have been better +for me, if I had not exerted so much. I begin to fear that all my +fortitude is mistaken for indifference. Something Mr L---- said the +other day about sensibility and sacrifices gave me this idea. +Sensibility!--It has been my hard task for some months past to repress +mine, that it might not give pain or disgust. I have done all that my +reason and my dearest mother counselled; surely I cannot have done +wrong. How apt we are to mistake the opinion or the taste of the man we +love for the rule of right! Sacrifices! What sacrifices can I make?--All +that I have, is it not his?--My whole heart, is it not his?--Myself, all +that I am, all that I _can_ be? Have I not left with him of late, +without recalling to his mind the idea that I suffer by his neglect? +Have I not lived his heart at liberty, and can I make a greater +sacrifice? I really do not understand what he means by sacrifices. A +woman who loves her husband is part of him; whatever she does for him is +for herself. I wish he would explain to me what he can mean by +sacrifices--but when will he ever again explain his thoughts and +feelings to me? + +My dearest mother, it has been a relief to my mind to write all this to +you; if there is no sense in it, you will forgive and encourage me by +your affection and strength of mind, which, in all situations, have such +power to soothe and support your daughter. + +The Prince ----, who spent a fortnight here, paid me particular +attention. + +The prince talked of soon paying us another visit. If he should, I will +not receive him in Mr L----'s absence. This may seem like vanity or +prudery; but no matter what it appears, if it is right. + +Well might you, my best friend, bid me beware of forming an intimacy +with an unprincipled woman. I have suffered severely for neglecting your +counsels; how much I have still to endure is yet to be tried: but I can +never be entirely miserable whilst I possess, and whilst I hope that I +deserve, the affection of such a mother. + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter liij. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + +If my approbation and affection can sustain you in this trying +situation, your fortitude will not forsake you, my beloved daughter. +Great minds rise in adversity; they are always equal to the trial, and +superior to injustice: betrayed and deserted, they feel their own force, +and they rely upon themselves. Be yourself, my Leonora! Persevere as you +have begun, and, trust me, you will be happy. I abide by my first +opinion, I repeat my prophecy--your husband's esteem, affection, love, +will be permanently yours. Change of circumstances, however alarming, +cannot shake the fixed judgment of my understanding. Character, as you +justly observe, cannot utterly change in a few months. Your husband is +deceived, he is now as one in the delirium of a fever: he will recover +his senses, and see Lady Olivia and you such as you are. + +You do not explain, and I take it for granted you have good reasons for +not explaining to me more fully, the immediate cause of your letter to +Lady Olivia. I am sorry that any cause should have thrown her upon the +protection of Mr L----; for a man of honour and generosity feels himself +bound to treat with tenderness a woman who appears to sacrifice +everything for his sake. Consider this in another point of view, and it +will afford you subject of consolation; for it is always a consolation +to good minds to think those whom they love less to blame than they +appear to be. You will be more calm and patient when you reflect that +your husband's absence may be prolonged by a mistaken sense of honour. +From the nature of his connexion with Lady Olivia it cannot last long. +Had she saved appearances, and engaged him in a sentimental affair, it +might have been far more dangerous to your happiness. + +I entirely approve of your conduct with respect to the prince: it is +worthy of my child, and just what I should have expected from her. The +artifices of coquettes, and all the _art_ of love is beneath her; she +has far other powers and resources, and need not strive to maintain her +dignity by vengeance. I admire your magnanimity, and I still more admire +your good sense; for high spirit is more common in our sex than good +sense. Few know how and when they should sacrifice small considerations +to great ones. You say that you will not receive the prince in your +husband's absence, though this may be attributed to prudery or vanity, +&c. &c. You are quite right. How many silly women sacrifice the +happiness of their lives to the idea of what women or men, as silly as +themselves, will say or think of their motives. How many absurd heroines +of romance, and of those who imitate them in real life, do we see, who +can never act with common sense or presence of mind: if a man's carriage +breaks down, or his horse is tired at the end of their avenues, or for +some such ridiculous reason, they must do the very reverse of all they +know to be prudent. Perpetually exposed, by a fatal concurrence of +circumstances, to excite the jealousy of their lovers and husbands, they +create the necessity to which they fall a victim. I rejoice that I +cannot feel any apprehension of my daughter's conducting herself like +one of these novel-bred ladies. + +I am sorry, my dear, that Lady M---- and your friends have left you: +yet even in this there may be good. Your affairs will be made less +public, and you will be less the subject of impertinent curiosity. I +advise you, however, to mix as much as usual with your neighbours in the +country: your presence, and the dignity of your manners, will impose +silence upon idle tongues. No wife of real spirit solicits the world for +compassion: she who does not court popularity ensures respect. + +Adieu, my dearest child: the time will come when your husband will feel +the full merit of your fortitude; when he will know how to distinguish +between true and false sensibility; between the love of an Olivia and of +a Leonora. + + + + + Letter liv. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + Jan. 26. + + My dear Margaret, + +I shall never forgive myself. I fear I have done Leonora irreparable +injury; and, dear magnanimous sufferer, she has never reproached me! In +a fit of indignation and imprudent zeal I made a discovery, which has +produced a total breach between Leonora and Lady Olivia, and in +consequence of this Mr L---- has gone off with her ladyship * * * * * * +* * * * * * We have heard nothing from Mr L---- since his departure, and +Leonora is more unhappy than ever, and my imprudence is the cause of +this. Yet she continues to love me. She is an angel! I have promised her +not to mention her affairs in future even in any of my letters to you, +dear Margaret. Pray quiet any reports you may hear, and stop idle +tongues. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter lv. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + Richmond. + + My dear Friend, + +I do not think I could have borne with temper from any other man +breathing the last letter which I received from you. I am sensible that +it was written with the best intentions for my happiness; but I must now +inform you, that the lady in question has accepted of my protection, and +consequently no man who esteems me can treat her with disrespect. + +It is no longer a question, what she will sacrifice for me; she has +shown the greatest generosity and tenderness of soul; and I should +despise myself, if I did not exert every power to make her happy.--We +are at Richmond: but if you write, direct to me at my house in town. + + Yours sincerely, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lvi. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +Dream your dream out, my dear L----. Since you are angry with me, as +Solander was with Sir Joseph Banks for awakening him, I shall not take +the liberty of shaking you any more. I believe I shook you rather too +roughly: but I assure you it was for your good, as people always tell +their friends when they do the most disagreeable things imaginable. +Forgive me, and I will let you dream in peace. You will however allow +me to watch by you whilst you sleep; and, my dear somnambulist, I may +just take care that you do not knock your head against a post, or fall +into a well. + +I hope you will not have any objection to my paying my respects to Lady +Olivia when I come to town, which, I flatter myself, I shall be able to +do shortly. The fortifications here are almost completed. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + Letter lvij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + Richmond, ----. + +Happy!--No, my dear Gabrielle, nor shall I ever be happy, whilst I have +not exclusive possession of the heart of the man I love. I have +sacrificed everything to him; I have a right to expect that he should +sacrifice at least a wife for me--a wife whom he only esteems. But L---- +has not sufficient strength of mind to liberate himself from the cobwebs +which restrain those who talk of conscience, and who, in fact, are only +superstitious. I see with indignation, that his soul is continually +struggling between passion for me and a something, I know not what to +call it, that he feels for this wife. His thoughts are turning towards +home. I believe that to an Englishman's ears there is some magic in the +words _home_ and _wife_. I used to think foreigners ridiculous for +associating the ideas of milord Anglois with roast beef and pudding; but +I begin to see that they are quite right, and that an Englishman has a +certain set of inveterate _homely_ prejudices, which are necessary to +his well-being, and almost to his existence. You may entice him into the +land of sentiment, and for a time keep him there; but refine and polish +and enlighten him as you will, he recurs to his own plain sense, as he +terms it, on the first convenient opportunity. In short, it is lost +labour to civilize him, for sooner or later he will _hottentot_ again. +Pray introduce that term, Gabrielle--_you_ can translate it. For my +part, I can introduce nothing here; my manière d'être is really +insupportable; my talents are lost; I, who am accustomed to shine in +society, see nobody; I might, as Josephine every day observes, as well +be buried alive. Retirement and love are charming; but then it must be +perfect love--not the equivocating sort that L----feels for me, which +keeps the word of promise only to the ear. I bear every sort of +désagrément for him; I make myself a figure for the finger of scorn to +point at, and he insults me with esteem for a wife. Can you conceive +this, my amiable Gabrielle?--No, there are ridiculous points in the +characters of my countrymen which you will never be able to comprehend. +And what is still more incomprehensible, it is my fate to love this man; +yes, passionately to love him!--But he must give me proof of reciprocal +passion. I have too much spirit to sacrifice everything for him, who +will sacrifice nothing for me. Besides, I have another motive. To you, +my faithful Gabrielle, I open my whole heart.--Pride inspires me as well +as love. I am resolved that Leonora, the haughty Leonora, shall live to +repent of having insulted and exasperated Olivia. In some situations +contempt can be answered only by vengeance; and when the malice of a +contracted and illiberal mind provokes it, revenge is virtue. Leonora +has called me her enemy, and consequently has made me such. 'Tis she has +declared the war! 'tis for me to decide the victory! + +L----, I know, has the offer of an embassy to Petersburg.--He shall +accept it.--I will accompany him thither. Lady Leonora may, in his +absence, console herself with her august counsellor and mother:--that +proudest of earthly paragons is yet to be taught the extent of Olivia's +power. Adieu, my charming Gabrielle! I will carry your tenderest +remembrances to our brilliant Russian princess. She has often invited +me, you know, to pay her a visit, and this will be the ostensible object +of my journey. A horrible journey, to be sure!!!--But what will not love +undertake and accomplish, especially when goaded by pride, and +inspirited by great revenge? + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lviij. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + +Victim to the delusions of passion, too well I know my danger, and now, +even now foresee my miserable fate. Too well I know that the delicious +poison which spreads through my frame exalts, entrances, but to destroy. +Too well I know that the meteor fire, which shines so bright on my path, +entices me forward but to plunge me in the depths of infamy. The long +warnings of recorded time teach me, that perjured man triumphs, +disdains, and abandons. Too well, alas! I know these fatal truths; too +well I feel my approaching doom. Yet, infatuated as I am, prescience +avails not; the voice of prudence warns, the hand of Heaven beckons me +in vain. + +My friend! my more than friend, my lover! beloved beyond expression! you +to whom I immolate myself, you for whom I sacrifice more than life, O +whisper words of peace! for you, and you alone, can tranquillize this +agitated bosom. Assure me, L----, if with truth you can assure me, that +I have no rival in your affections. O tell me that the name of wife +does not invalidate the claims of love! Repeat for me, a thousand times +repeat, that I am sole possessor of your heart! + +The moment you quit me I am overpowered with melancholy forebodings. +Scarcely are you out of my sight, before I dread that I should never see +you more, or that some fatality should deprive me of your love. When +shall the sails of love waft us from this dangerous shore? O! when shall +I dare to call you mine? Heavens! how many things may intervene. . . . +Let nothing detain you from Richmond this evening; but come not at +all--come no more, unless to reassure my trembling heart, and to +convince me that love and Olivia have banished every other image. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lix. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + My dear General, + +I am come to a resolution to accept of that embassy to Russia which I +lately refused. My mind has been in such constant anxiety for some time +past, that my health has suffered, and change of air and place are +necessary to me. You will say, that the climate of Russia is a strange +choice for an invalid: I could indeed have wished for a milder; but in +this world we must be content with the least of two evils. I wish to +have some ostensible reason for going abroad, and this embassy is the +only one that presents itself in an unquestionable shape. Anything is +better than staying where I am, and _as_ I am. My motives are not so +entirely personal and selfish as I have stated them. A man who has a +grain of feeling cannot endure to see the woman whom he loves, whose +only failing is her love, living in a state of dereliction, exposed to +the silent scorn of her equals and inferiors, if not to open insult. All +her fine talents, every advantage of nature and education sacrificed, +and her sensibility to shame a perpetual source of misery. A man must be +a brute if he do not feel for a woman whose affection for him has +reduced her to this situation. My delicacy as to female manners, and the +high value I set upon public opinion in all that concerns the sex, make +me peculiarly susceptible and wretched in my present circumstances. To +raise the drooping spirits, and support the self-approbation of a woman, +who is conscious that she has forfeited her claim to respect--to make +love supply the place of all she has sacrificed to love, is a difficult +and exquisitely painful task. My feelings render hers more acute, and +the very precautions which I take, however delicate, alarm and wound her +pride, by reminding her of all she wishes to forget. In this country no +woman, who is not lost to shame, can bear to live without +reputation.----I pass over a great many intermediate ideas, my dear +general; your sense and feeling will supply them. You see the +expediency, the necessity of my accepting this embassy. Olivia urges, +how can I refuse it? She wishes to accompany me. She made this offer +with such decision of spirit, with such passionate tenderness, as +touched me to the very soul. A woman who really loves absolutely devotes +herself, and becomes insensible to every difficulty and danger; to her +all parts of the world are like; all she fears is to be separated from +the object of her affections. + +But the very excess of certain passions proves them to be genuine. Even +whilst we blame the rashness of those who act from the enthusiasm of +their natures, whilst we foresee all the perils to which they seem +blind, we tremble at their danger, we grow more and more interested for +them every moment, we admire their courage, we long to snatch them from +their fate, we are irresistibly hurried along with them down the +precipice. + +But why do I say all this to you, my dear general? To no man upon earth +could it be more ineffectually addressed. Let me see you, however, +before we leave England. It would be painful to me to quit this country +without taking leave of you, notwithstanding all that you have lately +done to thwart my inclinations, and notwithstanding all I may expect you +to say when we meet. Probably I shall be detained here some weeks, as I +must wait for instructions from our court. I write this day to Lady +Leonora, to inform her that I am appointed ambassador to Russia. She +shall have all the honours of war; she shall be treated with all the +respect to which she is so well entitled. I suppose she will wish to +reside with her mother during my absence. She cannot do better: she will +then be in the most eligible situation, and I shall be relieved from all +anxiety upon her account. She will be perfectly happy with her mother. I +have often thought that she was much happier before she married me than +she has been since our union. + +I have some curiosity to know whether she will see the prince when I am +gone. Do not mistake me; I am not jealous: I have too little love, and +too much esteem for Leonora, to feel the slightest jealousy. I have no +doubt, that if I were to stay in Russia for ten years, and if all the +princes and potentates in Europe were to be at her feet, my wife would +conduct herself with the most edifying propriety: but I am a little +curious to know how far vanity or pride can console a virtuous woman for +the absence of love. + + Yours truly, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lx. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +You are really decided then to go to Russia, my amiable friend, and you +will absolutely undertake this horrible voyage! And you are not +intimidated by the idea of the immense distance between Petersburg and +Paris! Alas! I had hoped soon to see you again. The journey from my +convent to Paris was the longest and most formidable that I ever +undertook, and at this moment it appears to me terrible; you may +conceive therefore my admiration of your courage and strength of mind, +my dear Olivia, who are going to brave the ocean, turning your back on +Paris, and every moment receding from our polished centre of attraction, +to perish perhaps among mountains of ice. Mon Dieu! it makes me shudder +to think of it. But if it pleases Heaven that you should once arrive at +Petersburg, you will crown your tresses with diamonds, you will envelop +yourself with those superb furs of the north, and smiling at all the +dangers you have passed, you will be yourself a thousand times more +dangerous than they. You, who have lived so long at Paris, who speak our +language in all its shades of elegance; you, who have divined all our +secrets of pleasing, who have caught our very air, + + "Et la grace, encore plus belle que la beauté;" + +you, who are absolutely a French woman, and a Parisian, what a sensation +you will produce at Petersburg!--Quels succès vous attendent!--Quels +hommages! + +You will have the goodness to offer my tenderest sentiments, and the +assurances of my perfect respect, to our dear princess; you will also +find the proper moment to remind her of the promise she made to send me +specimens of the fine ermines and sables of her country. For my part, I +used to be, I confess, in a great error with respect to furs: I always +acknowledged them to be rich, but avoided them as heavy; I considered +them as fitter for the stiff magnificence of an empress of all the +Russias than for the light elegance of a Parisian beauty; but our +charming princess convinced me that this is a heresy in taste. When I +beheld the grace with which she wore her ermine, and the art with which +she knew how to vary its serpent folds as she moved, or as she spoke; +the variety it gave to her costume and attitudes; the development it +afforded to a fine hand and arm, the resource in the pauses of +conversation, and that soft and attractive air which it seemed to impart +even to the play of her wit, I could no longer refuse my homage to +ermine. Such is the despotism of beauty over all the objects of taste +and fashion; and so it is, that a woman of sense, address, and +sentiment, let her be born or thrown by fate where she may, will always +know how to avail herself of every possible advantage of nature and art. +Nothing will be too trifling or too vast for her genius. + +I must make you understand me, my dear Olivia; your Gabrielle is not so +frivolous as simpletons imagine. Frivolity is an excellent, because an +unsuspected mask, under which serious and important designs may be +safely concealed. I would explain myself further, but must now go to the +opera to see the new ballet. Let me know, my interesting, my sublime +Olivia, when you are positively determined on your voyage to Petersburg; +and then you shall become acquainted with your friend as a politician. +Her friendship for you will not be confined to a mere intercourse of +sentiment, but will, if you have courage to second her views, give you a +secret yet decisive weight and consequence, of which you have hitherto +never dreamed.--Adieu.--These gentlemen are so impatient, I must go. +Burn the last page of this letter, and the whole of my next as soon as +you have read it, I conjure you, my dear. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxi. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Dear L----. + +I have time but to write one line to satisfy that philosophical +curiosity, which, according to your injunctions, I will not denominate +jealousy--except when I talk to myself. + +You have a philosophical curiosity to know whether your wife will see +the prince in your absence. I saw his favourite yesterday, who +complained to me, that his highness had been absolutely refused +admittance at your castle, notwithstanding he had made many ingenious +and some bold attempts to see Lady Leonora L---- in the absence of her +faithless husband. + +As to your scheme of going to Russia, you will be obliged, luckily, to +wait for some time for instruction, and in the interval, it is to be +hoped you will recover your senses. I shall see you as soon as possible. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxij. + + _Madame de P---- to Lady Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +As our vanity always endeavours to establish a balance between our own +perfections and those of our friends, I must flatter myself, my dear +Olivia, that in compensation for that courage and ardent imagination in +which you are so much my superior, I possess some little advantages over +you in my scientific, hereditary knowledge of court intrigue, and of the +arts of representation; all which will be necessary to you in your +character of ambassadress: you will in fact deserve this title, for of +course you will govern the English ambassador, whom you honour with your +love. And of course you will appear with splendour, and you will be +particularly careful to have your _traineau_ well appointed. Pray +remember that one of your horses must gallop, whilst the other trots, or +you are nobody. It will also be absolutely necessary to have a numerous +retinue of servants, because this suits the Russian idea of +magnificence. You must have, as the Russian nobles always had in Paris, +four servants constantly to attend your equipage; one to carry the +flambeau, another to open the door, and a couple to carry you into and +out of your carriage. I beseech you to bear in mind perpetually, that +you are to be as helpless as possible. A Frenchman of my acquaintance, +who spent nine years in Russia, told me, that in his first setting out +at Petersburg, he was put on his guard in this particular by a speech of +his Russian valet de chambre:--"Sir, the Englishman you visited to-day +cannot be worthy of your acquaintance; he cannot be a gentleman. Son +valet me dit qu'il se déshabille seul!!!" + +I suppose you take Josephine with you; she will be an inestimable +treasure; and I shall make it my business to send you the first advices +of Paris fashions, which her talents will not fail to comprehend and +execute. My charming Olivia! you will be the model of taste and +elegance! Do not suspect that dress is carrying me away from politics. +I assure you I know what I am about, and am going straight to my object. +The art of attending to trifles is the art of governing the world, as +all historians know, who have gone to the bottom of affairs. Was not the +face of Europe changed by a dish of tea thrown on Mrs Masham's gown, as +Voltaire with penetrating genius remarks? Women, without a doubt, +understand the importance of trifles better than men do, and +consequently always move in secret the slight springs of that vast +machine, the civilized world. Is not your ambition roused, my Olivia? +You must, however, lay aside a little of your romance, and not approach +the political machine whilst you are intoxicated with love, else you +will blunder infallibly, and do infinite and irreparable mischief to +yourself and your friends. + +Permit me to tell you, that you have been a little spoiled by +sentimental novels, which are good only to talk of when one must show +sensibility, but destructive as rules of action. By the false lights +which these writers, who know nothing of the world, have thrown upon +objects, you have been deluded; you have been led to mistake the means +for the end. Love has been with you the sole end of love; whereas it +ought to be the beginning of power. No matter for the past: the future +is yours: at our age this future must be dexterously managed. A woman of +spirit, and, what is better, of sense, must always take care that in her +heart the age of love is not prolonged beyond the age of being beloved. +In these times a woman has no choice at a certain period but politics, +or bel esprit; for devotion, which used to be a resource, is no longer +in fashion. We must all take a part, my dear; I assure you I have taken +mine decidedly, and I predict that you will take yours with brilliant +success. How often must one cry in the ears of lovers--Love must die! +must die! must die! But you, my dear Olivia, will not be deaf to the +warning voice of common sense. Your own experience has on former +occasions convinced you, that passion cannot be eternal; and at present, +if I mistake not, there is in your love a certain mixture of other +feelings, a certain alloy, which will make it happily ductile and +manageable. When your triumph over the wife is complete, passion for the +husband will insensibly decay; and this will be fortunate for you, +because assuredly your ambassador would not choose to remain all the +rest of his days in love and in exile at Petersburg. All these English +are afflicted with the maladie du pays; and, as you observe so well, the +words home and wife have ridiculous but unconquerable power over their +minds. What will become of you, my friend, when this Mr L----chooses to +return to England to his castle, &c.? You could not accompany him. You +must provide in time against this catastrophe, or you will be a +deserted, disgraced, undone woman, my dear friend. + +No one should begin to act a romance who has not well considered the +dénouement. It is a charming thing to mount with a friend in a balloon, +amid crowds of spectators, who admire the fine spectacle, and applaud +the courage of the aërostats; the losing sight of this earth, and the +being in or above the clouds, must also be delightful: but the moment +will come when the travellers descend, and then begins the danger; then +they differ about throwing out the ballast, the balloon is rent in the +quarrel, it sinks with frightful rapidity, and they run the hazard, like +the poor Marquis d'Arlande, of being spitted upon the spire of the +Invalides, or of being entangled among woods and briers--at last, +alighting upon the earth, our adventurers, fatigued and bruised, and +disappointed, come out of their shattered triumphal car, exposed to the +derision of the changeable multitude. + +Everything in this world is judged of by success. Your voyage to +Petersburg, my dear Olivia, must not be a mere adventure of romance; as +a party of pleasure it would be ridiculous; we must make something more +of it. Enclosed is a letter to a Russian nobleman, an old lover of mine, +who I understand is in favour. He will certainly be at your command. He +is a man possessed by the desire of having reputation among foreigners, +vain of the preference of our sex, generous even to prodigality. By his +means you will be immediately placed on an easy footing with all the +leading persons of the Russian court. You will go on from one step to +another, till you are at the height which I have in view. Now for my +grand object.--No, not now--for I have forty little notes about nothings +to write this morning. Great things hang upon these nothings, so they +should not be neglected. I must leave you, my amiable Olivia, and defer +my grand object till to-morrow. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxiij. + + _Leonora to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Dear Mother, + +This moment I have received a letter from Mr L----. He has accepted of +an embassy to Petersburg. I cannot guess by the few lines he has +written, whether or not he wishes that I should accompany him. Most +ardently I wish it; but if my offer should be refused, or if it should +be accepted only because it could not be well refused; if I should be a +burthen, a restraint upon him, I should wish myself dead. + +Perhaps he accepts of this embassy on purpose that he may leave me and +take another person with him: or perhaps, dearest mother (I hardly dare +to hope it)--perhaps he wishes to break off that connexion, and goes to +Russia to leave temptation behind him. I know that this embassy was +offered to him some weeks ago, and he had then no thoughts of accepting +it.--O that I could see into his heart--that heart which used to be +always open to me! If I could discover what his wishes are, I should +know what mine ought to be. I have thoughts of going to town immediately +to see him; at least I may take leave of him. Do you approve of it? +Write the moment you receive this: but I need not say that, for I am +sure you will do so. Dearest mother, you have prophesied that his heart +will return to me, and on this hope I live. + + Your ever affectionate daughter, + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter lxiv. + + _The Duchess of ---- to Leonora._ + + +Yes, my dear, I advise you by all means to go to town, and to see your +husband. Your desire to accompany him to Russia he will know before you +see him, for I have just written and despatched an express to him with +your last letter, and with all those which I have received from you +within these last six months. Leave Mr L---- time to read them before he +sees you; and do not hurry or fatigue yourself unnecessarily. You know +that an embassy cannot be arranged in two days; therefore travel by easy +journeys: you cannot do otherwise without hazard. Your courage in +offering to undertake this long voyage with your husband is worthy of +you, my beloved daughter. God bless and preserve you! If you go to +Petersburg, let me know in time, that I may see you before you leave +England. I will be at any moment at any place you appoint. + + Your affectionate mother, + + + + + Letter lxv. + + _The Duchess of ---- to Mr L----._ + + +Perhaps this letter may find you at the feet of your mistress. Spare me, +sir, a few moments from your pleasures. You may perhaps expect +reproaches from the mother of your wife; but let me assure you, that you +have none to apprehend. For my daughter's sake, if not for yours, I +would forbear. Never was departing love recalled by the voice of +reproach; you shall not hear it from me, you have not heard it from +Leonora. But mistake not the cause of her forbearance; let it not be +attributed to pusillanimity of temper, or insensibility of heart. + +Enclosed I send you all the letters which my daughter has written to me +from the first day of her acquaintance with Lady Olivia to this hour. +From these you will be enabled to judge of what she has felt for some +months past, and of the actual state of her heart; you will see all the +tenderness and all the strength of her soul. + +It has ever been my fixed opinion, that a wife who loves her husband, +and who has possessed his affections, may reclaim them from the lure of +the most artful of her sex, by persevering kindness, temper, and good +sense, unless indeed her husband be a fool or a libertine. I have +prophesied that my daughter will regain your heart; and upon this +prophecy, to use her own expression, she lives. And even now, when its +accomplishment is far removed, I am so steady in my opinion of her and +of you; so convinced of the uniform result of certain conduct upon the +human mind, that undismayed I repeat my prophecy. + +Were you to remain in this kingdom, I should leave things to their +natural course; I should not interfere so far even as to send you +Leonora's letters: but as you may be separated for years, I think it +necessary now to put into your hands incontrovertible proofs of what she +is, and what she has been. Do not imagine that I am so weak as to expect +that the perusal of these letters will work a sudden change: but it is +fit, that before you leave England you should know that Leonora is not a +cold, sullen, or offended wife; but one who loves you most tenderly, +most generously; who, concealing the agony of her heart, waits with +resignation for the time when she will be your refuge, and the permanent +blessing of your life. + + + + + Letter lxvi. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +And now, my charming Olivia, raise your fine eyes as high as ambition +can look, and you will perhaps discover my grand object. You do not see +it yet. Look again.--Do you not see the Emperor of Russia? What would +you think of him for a lover? If it were only for novelty's sake, it +would really be pleasant to have a czar at one's feet. Reign in his +heart, and you in fact seat yourself invisibly on the throne of all the +Russias: thence what a commanding prospect you have of the affairs of +Europe! and how we should govern the world at our ease! The project is +bold, but not impracticable. The ancients represent Cupid riding the +Numidian lion; and why should he not tame the Russian bear? It would +make a pretty design for a vignette. I can engrave as well as La +Pompadour could at least, and anticipating your victory, my charming +Olivia, I will engrave Cupid leading the bear in a chain of flowers. +This shall be my seal. Mon cachet de faveur. + +Courage, my fair politician! You have a difficult task; but the glory is +in proportion to the labour; and those who value power properly are paid +by its acquisition for all possible fatigue and hardships. With your +knowledge of our modes, you will be at Petersburg the arbitress of +delights. You have a charming taste and invention for fêtes and +spectacles. Teach these people to vary their pleasures. Their monarch +must adore you, if you banish from his presence that most dreadful enemy +of kings, and most obstinate resident of courts, _ennui_. Trust, my +Olivia, neither to your wit, nor your beauty, nor your accomplishments, +but employ your "various arts of trifling prettily," and, take my word +for it, you will succeed. + +As I may not have an opportunity of sending you another private letter, +and as lemon-juice, goulard, and all those sympathetic inks, are subject +to unlucky accidents, I must send you all my secret instructions by the +present safe conveyance. + +You must absolutely sacrifice, my dear child, all your romantic notions, +and all your taste for love, to the grand object. The czar must not have +the slightest cause for jealousy. These czars make nothing, you know, of +cutting off their mistresses' pretty heads upon the bare suspicion of an +intrigue. But you must do what is still more difficult than to be +constant, you must yield your will, and, what is more, you must never +let this czar guess that his will is not always your pleasure. Your +humour, your tastes, your wishes, must be incessantly and with alacrity +sacrificed to his. You must submit to the constraint of eternal court +ceremony and court dissimulation. You must bear to be surrounded with +masks, instead of the human face divine; and instead of +fellow-creatures, you must content yourself with puppets. You will have +the amusement of pulling the wires: but remember that you must wear a +mask perpetually as well as others, and never attempt to speak, and +never expect to hear the language of truth or of the heart. You must not +be the dupe of attachment in those who call themselves friends, or +zealous and affectionate servants, &c. &c. You must have sufficient +strength of character to bear continually in mind that all these +professions are mere words, that all these people are alike false, and +actuated but by one motive, self-interest. To secure yourself from +secret and open enemies, you must farther have sufficient courage to +live without a friend or a confidante, for such persons at court are +only spies, traitors in the worst forms. All this is melancholy and +provoking, to be sure; but all this you must see without feeling, or at +least without showing a spark of indignation. A sentimental +misanthropist, male or female, is quite out of place at court. You must +see all that is odious and despicable in human nature in a comic point +of view; and you must consider your fellow-creatures as objects to be +laughed at, not to be hated. Laughter, besides being good for the +health, and consequently for the complexion, always implies superiority. +Without this gratification to our vanity there would be no possibility +of enduring that eternal penance of hypocrisy, and that solitary state +of suspicion, to which the ambitious condemn themselves. I fear, my +romantic Olivia, that you, who are a person used to yield to first +impressions, and not quite accustomed to subdue your passions to your +interest, will think that politics require too much from you, almost as +much as constancy or religion. But consider the difference! for Heaven's +sake, my dear, consider the greatness of our object! Would to God that I +had the eloquence of Bossuet, and I would make you a convert from love +and a proselyte to glory. Dare, my Olivia, to be a martyr to +ambition!--See! already high in air she holds a crown over your head--it +is almost within your grasp--stretch out your white arm and seize +it--fear not the thorns!--every crown has thorns--but who upon that +account ever yet refused one? My dear empress, I have the honour to kiss +your powerful hands. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxvij. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + My dear Friend, + +You need not hurry yourself to come to town on my account, for by this +change of ministry my embassy will be delayed some weeks. + +A few days ago this delay would have been a terrible disappointment to +me; yet now I feel it a respite. A respite! you will exclaim. Yes, my +dear friend--so it is. Such is the heart of man!--so changeable, so +contradictory, so much at variance with itself from day to day, from +hour to hour. I believe, from what I now feel, that every man under the +dominion of passion is reduced to a most absurd and miserable +condition.--I have just been reading some letters from Leonora, which +have wrung my heart; letters addressed to her mother, laying open every +feeling of her mind for some months. My dear friend, what injustice +have I done to this admirable woman! With what tenderness, with what +delicacy has she loved me! while I, mistaking modesty for coldness, +fortitude for indifference, have neglected, injured, and abandoned her! +With what sweetness of temper, with what persevering goodness has she +borne with me, while, intoxicated with passion, I saw everything in a +false point of view! How often have I satisfied myself with the +persuasion, that she scarcely observed my attachment to Olivia, or +beheld it unconcerned, secure by the absence of love from the pangs of +jealousy! How often have I accused her of insensibility, whilst her +heart was in tortures! Olivia was deceived also, and confirmed me in +this cruel error. And all that time Leonora was defending her rival, and +pleading her cause! With what generosity, with what magnanimity she +speaks of Olivia in those letters! Her confidence was unbounded, her +soul above suspicion; to the very last she doubted and blamed +herself--dear amiable woman! blamed herself for our faults, for feeling +that jealousy, which no wife who loved as she did could possibly subdue. +She never betrayed it by a single word or look of reproach. Even though +she fainted at that cursed fête champêtre, yet the moment she came to +her senses, she managed so that none of the spectators could suspect she +thought Olivia was her rival. My dear general, you will forgive me--as +long as I praise Leonora you will understand me. At last you will +acknowledge that I do justice to the merits of my wife. Justice! no--I +am unworthy of her. I have no heart like hers to offer in return for +such love. She wishes to go with me to Petersburg; she has forborne to +make this offer directly to me; but I know it from her last letter to +her mother, which now lies before me. How can I refuse?--and how can I +accept? My soul is torn with violence different ways. How can I leave +Leonora; and how can I tear myself from Olivia!--even if her charms had +no power over my heart, how could I with honour desert the woman who has +sacrificed everything for me! I will not shield myself from you, my +friend, behind the word honour. See me as you have always seen me, +without disguise, and now without defence. I respect, I love +Leonora--but, alas! I am in love with Olivia! + + Yours ever, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxviij. + + _Mr L---- to Olivia._ + + +Triumphant as you are over my heart, dear enchanting Olivia! you cannot +make me false. I cannot, even to appease your anger, deny this morning +what I said last night. It is inconsistent with all your professions, +with your character, with your generous disposition, to desire me to +"_abjure Leonora for ever_!" it would be to render myself for ever +unworthy of Olivia. I am convinced, that had you read the letters of +which I spoke, you would have been touched, you would have been struck +by them as I was: instead of being hurt and displeased by the impression +that they made upon me, you would have sympathized in my feelings, you +would have been indignant if I had not admired, you would have detested +and despised me if I could have been insensible to "_so much goodness +and generosity_." I repeat my words: I will not "_retract_," I cannot +"_repent of them_." My dear Olivia! when you reflect upon what is past, +I am persuaded you will acknowledge that your sensibility made you +unjust. Indeed, my love, you did not show your usual candour; I had +just read all that Leonora had written of you, all that she had urged +against her mother in your defence; even when she had most cause to be +irritated against us, I could not avoid being shocked by the different +manner in which you spoke of her. Perhaps I told you so too abruptly: if +I had loved you less, I should have been more cautious and more calm--if +I had esteemed you less, calmer still. I could then, possibly, have +borne to hear you speak in a manner unbecoming yourself. Forgive me the +pain I gave you--the pain I now give you, my dearest Olivia! My +sincerity is the best security you can have for my future love. Banish +therefore this unjust, this causeless jealousy: moderate this excessive +sensibility for both our sakes, and depend upon the power you have over +my heart. You cannot conceive how much I have felt from this +misunderstanding--the first we have ever had. Let it be the last. I have +spent a sleepless night. I am detained in town by provoking, tiresome, +but necessary business. Meet me in the evening with smiles, my Olivia: +let me behold in those fascinating eyes their wonted expression, and +hear from your voice its usual, its natural tone of tenderness and love. + + Ever devotedly yours, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxix. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + +You have spoken daggers to me! Come not to Richmond this evening! I +cannot--will not see you! Not for the universe would I see you with my +present feelings! + +Write to me more letters like that which I have just received. Dip your +pen in gall; find words more bitter than those which you have already +used. Accuse me of want of candour, want of generosity, want of every +amiable, every estimable quality. Upbraid me with the loss of all of +which you have bereft me. Recollect every sacrifice that I have made, +and, if you can, imagine every sacrifice that I would still make for +you--peace of mind, friends, country, fortune, fame, virtue; name them +all, and triumph--and disdain your triumph! Remind me how low I am +fallen--sink me lower still--insult, debase, humble me to the dust. +Exalt my rival, unroll to my aching eyes the emblazoned catalogue of her +merits, her claims to your esteem, your affection; number them over, +dwell upon those that I have forfeited, those which can never be +regained; tell me that such merits are above all price; assure me that +beyond all her sex you respect, you admire, you love your wife; say it +with enthusiasm, with fire in your eyes, with all the energy of passion +in your voice; then bid me sympathize in your feelings--bid me banish +jealousy--wonder at my alarm--call my sorrow anger--conjure me to +restrain my sensibility! Restrain my sensibility! Unhappy Olivia! he is +tired of your love. Let him then at once tell me the dreadful truth, and +I will bear it. Any evil is better than uncertainty, than lingering +hope. Drive all hope from my mind. Bid me despair and die--but do not +stretch me on the rack of jealousy!--Yet if such be your cruel pleasure, +enjoy it.--Determine how much I can endure and live. Stop just at the +point when human nature sinks, that you may not lose your victim, that +she may linger on from day to day, your sport and your derision. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lxx. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + My dear General, + +You will rejoice to hear that Olivia and I have been in a state of +warfare for some days past, and you will be still more pleased when you +learn the cause of our quarrel. On the day that I had been reading +Leonora's letters I was rather later at Richmond than usual. Olivia, +offended, insisted upon knowing by what I could possibly have been +detained. Her anger knew no bounds when she heard the truth. She made +use of some expressions, in speaking of my wife, which I could not, I +hope, have borne at any time, but which shocked me beyond measure at +that moment. I defended Leonora with warmth. Olivia, in a scornful tone, +talked of my wife's coldness of disposition, and bid me compare Lady +Leonora's love with hers. It was a comparison I had it more in my power +to make than Olivia was aware of; it was the most disadvantageous moment +for her in which that comparison could be made. She saw or suspected my +feelings, and perceived that all she had said of my Leonora's +_incapability of loving_ produced an effect directly contrary to her +expectations. Transported by jealousy, she then threw out hints +respecting the prince. I spoke as I felt, indignantly. I know not +precisely what I said, but Olivia and I parted in anger. I have since +received a passionately fond note from her. But I feel unhappy. Dear +general, when will you come to town? + + Yours truly, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxxi. + + _Mrs C---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + My dear Madam, + +Your grace's cautions and entreaties to Lady Leonora not to over-exert +and fatigue herself were, alas! as ineffectual as mine. From the time +she heard that Mr L---- had accepted this embassy to Petersburg, she was +so eager to set out on her journey to town, and so impatient to see him, +that neither her mind nor her body had one moment's tranquillity. She +waited with indescribable anxiety for your grace's answer to her letter; +and the instant she was secure of your approbation, her carriage was +ordered to the door. I saw that she was ill; but she would not listen to +my fears; she repeated with triumph, that her mother made no objection +to her journey, and that she had no apprehensions for herself. However, +she was obliged at last to yield. The carriage was actually at the door, +when she was forced to submit to be carried to her bed. For several +hours she was in such danger, that I never expected she could live till +this day. Thank God! she is now safe. Her infant, to her great delight, +is a boy: she was extremely anxious to have a son, because Mr +L----formerly wished for one so much. She forbids me to write to Mr +L----, lest I should communicate the account of her _sudden illness_ too +abruptly. + +She particularly requests that your grace will mention to him this +_accident_ in the least alarming manner possible. I shall write again +next post. Lady Leonora has now fallen asleep, and seems to sleep +quietly. Who should sleep in peace if she cannot! I never saw her +equal. + + My dear madam, + I am, + With respect and attachment, + Your grace's + Sincerely affectionate, + Helen C----. + +It is with extreme concern I am forced to add, that since I wrote this + Letter the child has been so ill that I have fears for his life.--His +poor mother! + + + + + Letter lxxij. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + My dear General, + +All is upon velvet again. Poor Olivia was excessively hurt by my letter: +she was ill for two days--seriously ill. Yesterday I at length obtained +admittance. Olivia was all softness, all candour: she acknowledged that +she had been wrong, and in so sweet a voice! She blamed herself till I +could no longer think her blameable. She seemed so much humbled and +depressed, such a tender melancholy appeared in her bewitching eyes, +that I could not resist the fascination. I certainly gave her some cause +for displeasure that unfortunate evening; for as Olivia has strong +passions and exquisite sensibility, I should not have been so abrupt. A +fit of jealousy may seize the best and most generous mind, and may +prompt to what it would be incapable of saying or thinking in +dispassionate moments. I am sure that Olivia has, upon reflection, felt +more pain from this affair than I have. My Russian embassy is still in +_abeyance_. Ministers seem to know their own minds as little as I know +mine. Ambition has its quarrels and follies as well as love. At all +events, I shall not leave England till next month; and I shall not go +down to L---- Castle till I have received my last instructions from our +court, and till the day for my sailing is fixed. The parting with +Leonora will be a dreadful difficulty. I cannot think of it steadily. +But as she herself says, "Is it not better that she should lose a year +of my affections than a life?" The duchess is mistaken in imagining it +possible that any woman, let her influence be ever so great over my +heart, could prejudice me against my amiable, my admirable wife. What +has just passed between Olivia and me convinces me that it is +impossible. She has too much knowledge of my character to hazard in +future a similar attempt. No, my dear friend, be assured I would not +suffer it. I have not yet lost all title to your esteem or to my own. +This enchantress may intoxicate me with her cup, but shall never degrade +me; and I should feel myself less degraded even by losing the human form +than by forfeiting that principle of honour and virtue, which more nobly +distinguishes man from brute. + + Yours most sincerely, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxxiij. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + My dear Friend, + +It is well that I did not answer your letter of Saturday before I +received that of Monday. My congratulations upon your quarrel with your +fair one might have come just as you were kissing hands upon a +reconciliation. + +I have often found a great convenience in writing a bad hand; my letters +are so little like what they are intended for, and have among them such +equality of unintelligibility, that each seems either; and with the +slightest alteration, each will stand and serve for the other. My _m_, +_n_, and _u_, are convertible letters; so are the terms and propositions +of your present mode of reasoning, my dear L----, and I perceive that +you find your account in it. Upon this I congratulate you; and I +congratulate Lady Leonora upon your being detained some weeks longer in +England. Those who have a just cause need never pray for victory; they +need only ask the gods for time. Time always brings victory to truth, +and shame to falsehood. But you are not worthy of such fine apophthegms. +At present "you are not fit to hear yourself convinced." I will wait for +a better opportunity, and have patience with you, if I can. + +You seem to plume yourself mightily upon your resolve to do justice to +the merits of your wife, and upon the courage you have shown in stuffing +cotton into your ears to prevent your listening to the voice of the +siren: but pray take the cotton out, and hear all she can say or sing. +Lady Leonora cannot be hurt by anything Olivia can say, but her own +malice may destroy herself. + +In the meantime, as you tell me that you are upon velvet again, I am to +presume that you are perfectly at ease; and I should be obliged to you, +if, as often as you can find leisure, you would send me bulletins of +your happiness. I have never yet been in love with one of these +high-flown heroines, and I am really curious to know what degree of +felicity they can bestow upon a man of common sense. I should be glad +to profit by the experience of a friend. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxxiv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + Richmond. + +Accept my sincere thanks, inimitable Gabrielle! for having taken off my +hands a lover, who really has half-wearied me to death. If you had dealt +more frankly with me, I could, however, have saved you much superfluous +trouble and artifice. I now perfectly comprehend the cause of poor +R***'s strange silence some months ago; he was then under the influence +of your charms, and it was your pleasure to deceive me even when there +was no necessity for dissimulation. You knew the secret of my growing +attachment to L----, and must have foreseen that R*** would be +burthensome to me. You needed therefore only to have treated me with +candour, and you would have gained a lover without losing a friend: but +Mad. de P---- is too accomplished a politician to go the simple straight +road to her object. I now perfectly comprehend why she took such pains +to persuade me that an imperial lover was alone worthy of my charms. She +was alarmed by an imaginary danger. Believe me, I am incapable of +disputing with any one _les restes d'un coeur_. + +Permit me to assure you, madam, that your incomparable talents for +explanation will be utterly thrown away on me in future. I am in +possession of the whole truth, from a person whose information I cannot +doubt: I know the precise date of the commencement of your connexion +with R***, so that you must perceive it will be impracticable to make me +believe that you have not betrayed my easy confidence. + +I cannot, however, without those pangs of sentiment which your heart +will never experience, reflect upon the treachery, the perfidy of one +who has been my bosom friend.--Return my letters, Gabrielle.--With this +you will receive certain _souvenirs_, at which I could never +henceforward look without sighing. I return you that ring I have so long +worn with delight, the picture of that treacherous eye,[2] which you +know so well how to use. Adieu, Gabrielle.--The illusion is over.--How +many of the illusions of my fond heart have been dispelled by time and +treachery! + + Olivia. + +[Footnote 2: Certain ladies at this time carried pictures of the eyes of +their favourites.] + + + + + Letter lxxv. + + _Madame de P---- to Monsieur R***._ + + + Paris, -- 18, --. + +I have just received the most extravagant letter imaginable from your +Olivia. Really you may congratulate yourself, my dear friend, upon +having recovered your liberty. 'Twere better to be a galley slave at +once than to be bound to please a woman for life, who knows not what she +would have either in love or friendship. Can you conceive anything so +absurd as her upbraiding me with treachery, because I know the value of +a heart of which she tells me she was more than half tired? as if I were +to blame for her falling in love with Mr L----, and as if I did not know +the whole progress of her inconstancy. Her letters to me give a new +history of the birth and education of Love. Here we see Love born of +Envy, nursed by _Ennui_, and dandled in turn by all the Vices. + +And this Lady Olivia fancies that she is a perfect Frenchwoman! There is +nothing we Parisians abhor and ridicule so much as these foreign, and +always awkward, caricatures of our manners. With us there are many who, +according to a delicate distinction, lose their virtue without losing +their taste for virtue; but I flatter myself there are few who resemble +Olivia entirely--who have neither the virtues of a man nor of a woman. +One cannot even say that "her head is the dupe of her heart," since she +has no heart. But enough of such a tiresome and incomprehensible +subject. + +How I overvalued that head, when I thought it could ever be fit for +politics! 'Tis well we did not commit ourselves. You see how prudent I +am, my dear R***, and how much those are mistaken who think that we +women are not fit to be trusted with secrets of state. Love and politics +make the best mixture in the world. Adieu. Victoire summons me to my +toilette. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxxvi. + + _Madame de P---- to Lady Olivia._ + + + Paris, -- 18, --. + +Really, my dear Olivia, this is too childish. What! make a complaint in +form against me for taking a lover off your hands when you did not know +what to do with him! Do you quarrel in England every time you change +partners in a country dance? But I must be serious; for the +high-sounding words _treachery_ and _perfidy_ are surely sufficient to +make anybody grave. Seriously, then, if you are resolved to be tragical, +_et de me faire une scène_, I must submit--console myself, and, above +all things, take care not to be ridiculous. + +Your letters, as you desire it so earnestly, and with so much reason, +shall be returned by the first safe conveyance; but excuse me if I +forbear to restore your _souvenirs_. With us Parisians this returning of +keepsakes has been out of fashion since the days of Molière and _Le +dépit amoureux_. + +Adieu, my charming Olivia! I embrace you tenderly, I was going to say; +but I believe, according to your English etiquette, I must now conclude +with + + I have the honour to be, + Madam, + Your most obedient, + Humble servant, + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxxvij. + + _From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Tuesday morning. + +Come not to Richmond to-day; I am not in spirits to see you, my dearest +L----. Allow me to indulge my melancholy retired from every human eye. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lxxviij. + + _From Lady Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Tuesday evening. + +"Explain to you the cause of my melancholy"--Vain request!--cruel as +vain! Your ignorance of the cause too well justifies my sad +presentiments. Were our feelings in unison, as once they were, would not +every chord of your heart vibrate responsively to mine? + +With me love is an absorbing vortex of the soul, into which all other +thoughts, feelings, and ideas are irresistibly impelled; with you it is +but as the stranger stream that crosses the peaceful lake, and as it +flows wakens only the surface of the slumbering waters, communicating to +them but a temporary agitation. With you, my dear, but too +tranquil-minded friend, love is but one amid the vulgar crowd of +pleasures; it concentrates not your ideas, it entrances not your +faculties; it is not, as in my heart, the supreme delight, which renders +all others tasteless, the only blessing which can make life supportable; +the sole, sufficient object of existence. Alas! how cruelly different is +the feeble attachment that I have inspired from that all-powerful +sentiment to which I live a victim! Countless symptoms, by you unheeded, +mark to my love-watchful eye the decline of passion. How often am I +secretly shocked by the cold carelessness of your words and manner! How +often does the sigh burst from my bosom, the tear fall from my eye, when +you have left me at leisure to recall, by memory's torturing power, +instances of your increasing indifference! Seek not to calm my too +well-founded fears. Professions, with all their unmeaning, inanimate +formality, but irritate my anguish. Permit me to indulge, to feed upon +my grief in silence. Ask me no more to explain to you the cause of my +melancholy. Too plainly, alas! I feel it is beyond my utmost power to +endure it. Amiable Werter--divine St Preux--you would sympathize in my +feelings! Sublime Goethe--all-eloquent Rousseau--you alone could feel as +I do, and you alone could paint my anguish. + + The miserable + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lxxix. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + +Expect no bulletin of happiness from me, my friend. I find it impossible +to make Olivia happy. She has superior talents, accomplishments, beauty, +grace, all that can attract and fascinate the human heart--that could +triumph over every feeling, every principle that opposed her power: she +lives with the man she loves, and yet she is miserable. + +Rousseau, it has been said, never really loved any woman but his own +Julie; I have lately been tempted to think that Olivia never really +loved any man but St Preux. Werter, perhaps, and some other German +heroes, might dispute her heart even with St Preux; but as for me, I +begin to be aware that I am loved only as a feeble resemblance of those +divine originals (to whom, however, my character bears not the slightest +similarity), and I am often indirectly, and sometimes directly, +reproached with my inferiority to imaginary models. But how can a plain +Englishman hope to reach + + "The high sublime of deep absurd"? + +I am continually reviled for not using a romantic language, which I have +never learned; and which, as far as I can judge, is foreign to all +natural feeling. I wish to make Olivia happy. There is nothing I would +not do to satisfy her of my sincerity; but nothing I can do will +suffice. She has a sort of morbid sensibility, which is more alive to +pain than pleasure, more susceptible of jealousy than of love. No terms +are sufficiently strong to convince her of my affection, but an +unguarded word makes her miserable for hours. She requires to be +agitated by violent emotions, though they exhaust her mind, and leave +her spiritless and discontented. In this alternation of rapture and +despair all her time passes. As she says of herself, she has no soul but +for love! she seems to think it a crime against sentiment to admit of +relief from common occupations or indifferent subjects; with a sort of +superstitious zeal she excludes all thoughts but those which relate to +one object, and in this spirit of amorous mysticism she actually makes a +penance even of love. I am astonished that her heart can endure this +variety of self-inflicted torments. What will become of Olivia when she +ceases to love and be loved? And what passion can be durable which is so +violent as hers, and to which no respite is allowed? No affection can +sustain these hourly trials of suspicion and reproach. + +Jealousy of Leonora has taken such possession of Olivia's imagination, +that she misinterprets all my words and actions. By restraining my +thoughts, by throwing obstacles in the way of my affection for my wife, +she stimulates and increases it: she forces upon me continually those +comparisons which she dreads. Till I knew Olivia more intimately than +the common forms of a first acquaintance, or the illusions of a +treacherous passion permitted, her defects did not appear; but now that +I suffer, and that I see her suffer daily, I deplore them bitterly. Her +happiness rests and weighs heavily on my honour. I feel myself bound to +consider and to provide for the happiness of the woman who has +sacrificed to me all independent means of felicity. A man without honour +or humanity may perhaps finish an intrigue as easily as he can begin it, +but this is not exactly the case of your imprudent friend, + + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxxx. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Wednesday. + +Ay, ay! just as I thought it would be. This is all the comfort, my dear +friend, that I can give you; all the comfort that wise people usually +afford their friends in distress. Provided things happen just as they +predicted, they care but little what is suffered in the accomplishment +of their prophecies. But seriously, my dear L----, I am not sorry that +you are in a course of vexation. The more you see of your charmer the +better. She will allay your intoxication by gentle degrees, and send you +sober home. Pray keep in the course you have begun, and preserve your +patience as long as possible. I should be sorry that you and Olivia +quarrelled violently, and parted in a passion: such quarrels of lovers +are proverbially the renewal of love. + + "Il faut délier l'amitié, il faut couper l'amour." + +In some cases this maxim may be just, but not in the present instance. I +would rather wait till the knot is untied than cut it; for when once you +see the art with which it was woven, a similar knot can never again +perplex you. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxxxi. + + _From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond, Saturday. + +You presume too much upon your power over my heart, and upon the +softness of my nature. Know that I have spirit as well as tenderness--a +spirit that will neither be injured nor insulted with impunity. You were +amazed, you say, by the violence which I showed yesterday. Why did you +provoke that violence, by opposing the warmest wish of my heart? and +with a calmness that excited my tenfold indignation! Imagine not that I +am a tame, subjugated female, to be treated with neglect if I +remonstrate, and caressed as the price of obedience. Fancy not that I am +one of your chimney-corner, household goddesses, doomed to the dull +uniformity of domestic worship, destined to be adored, to be hung with +garlands, or undeified or degraded with indignity! I have been +accustomed to a different species of worship; and the fondness of my +weak heart has not yet sunk me so low, and rendered me so abject, that I +cannot assert my rights. You tell me that you are unconscious of giving +me any just cause of offence. Just cause!--How I hate the cold accuracy +of your words! This single expression is sufficient offence to a heart +like mine. You entreat me to be reasonable. Reasonable!--Did ever man +talk of reason to a woman he loved? When once a man has recourse to +reason and precision, there is an end of love. No just cause of +offence!--What, have I no cause to be indignant, when I find you thus +trifle with my feelings, postpone from week to week, and month to month, +our departure from this hateful country-- + + "Bid me hope on from day to day, + And wish and wish my soul away!" + +Yes, you know it to be the most ardent wish of my soul to leave England; +you know that I cannot enjoy a moment's peace of mind whilst I am here; +yet in this racking suspense it is your pleasure to detain me. No, it +shall not be--this shall not go on! It is in vain you tell me that the +delay originates not with you, that you must wait for instructions and I +know not what--paltry diplomatic excuses! + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lxxxij. + +_Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + Richmond. + +Amuse yourself, my good general, at my expence; I know that you are +seriously interested for my happiness; but the way is not quite so clear +before me as you imagine. It is extremely easy to be philosophic for our +friends; but difficult to be so for ourselves when our passions are +concerned. Indeed, this would be a contradiction in terms; you might as +well talk of a cold sun, or of hot ice, as of a philosopher falling in +love, or of a man in love being a philosopher. You say that Olivia will +wear out my passion, and that her defects will undo the work of her +charms. I acknowledge that she sometimes ravels the web she has woven; +but she is miraculously expeditious and skilful in repairing the +mischief: the magical tissue again appears firm as ever, glowing with +brighter colours, and exhibiting finer forms. + +In plain prose, my dear friend--for as you are not in love, you will +find it difficult to follow my poetic flights--in plain prose, I must +confess that Olivia has the power to charm and touch my heart even after +she has provoked me to the utmost verge of human patience. She knows her +power, and I am afraid this tempts her to abuse it. Her temper, which +formerly appeared to me all feminine gentleness, is now irritable and +violent; but I am persuaded that this is not her natural disposition; it +is the effect of her present unhappy state of mind. Tortured by remorse +and jealousy, if in the height of their paroxysms Olivia make me suffer +from their fury, is it for me to complain? I, who caused, should at +least endure the evil. + +Everything is arranged for my embassy, and the day is fixed for our +leaving England. I go down to L----Castle next week. + + Your faithful + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxxxiij. + + _Josephine to Victoire, Mad. de P----'s woman._ + + + Richmond. + +I am in despair, dear Victoire; and unless your genius can assist me, +absolutely undone! Here is this romantic lady of mine determined upon a +journey to Russia with her new English lover. What whims ladies take +into their heads, and how impossible it is to make them understand +reason! I have been labouring in vain to convince my Lady Olivia that +this is the most absurd scheme imaginable: and I have repeated to her +all I learnt from Lady F----'s women, who are just returned from +Petersburg, and whom I met at a party last night, all declaring they +would rather die a thousand deaths than go through again what they have +endured. Such seas of ice! such going in sledges! such barbarians! such +beds! and scarcely a looking-glass! And nothing fit to wear but what one +carries with one, and God knows how long we may stay. At Petersburg the +coachmen's ears are frozen off every night on their boxes waiting for +their ladies. And there are bears and wild beasts, I am told, howling +with their mouths wide open night and day in the forests which we are to +pass through; and even in the towns the men, I hear, are little better, +for it is the law of the country for the men to beat their wives, and +many wear long beards. How horrid!--My Lady F----'s woman, who is a +Parisian born, and very pretty, if her eyes were not so small, and +better dressed than her lady always, except diamonds, assures me upon +her honour, she never had a civil thing said to her whilst she was in +Russia, except by one or two Frenchmen in the suite of the ambassadors. + +These Russians think of nothing but drinking brandy, and they put pepper +into it! Mon Dieu, what savages! Put pepper into brandy! But that is +inconceivable! Positively, I will never go to Petersburg. And yet if my +lady goes, what will become of me? for you know my sentiments for +Brunel, and he is decided to accompany my lady, so I cannot stay behind. + +But absolutely I am shocked at this intrigue with Mr L----, and my +conscience reproaches me terribly with being a party concerned in it; +for in this country an affair of gallantry between married people is not +so light a thing as with us. Here wives sometimes love their husbands +seriously, as if they were their lovers; and my Lady Leonora L---- is +one of this sort of wives. She is very unhappy, I am told. One day at +L---- Castle, I assure you my heart quite bled for her, when she gave me +a beautiful gown of English muslin, little suspecting me then to be her +enemy. She is certainly very unsuspicious, and very amiable, and I wish +to Heaven her husband would think as I do, and take her with him to +Petersburg, instead of carrying off my Lady Olivia and me! Adieu, mon +chou! Embrace everybody I know tenderly for me. + + Josephine. + + + + + Letter lxxxiv. + + _Mrs C---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + My dear Madam, + +I believe, when I wrote last to your grace, I said, that I had no hopes +of the child's life. From the moment of his birth there was but little +probability of his being anything but a source of misery to his mother. +I cannot, on her account, regret that the struggle is over. He expired +this morning. My poor friend had hopes to the last, though I had none; +and it was most painful and alarming to see the feverish anxiety with +which she watched over her little boy, frequently repeating, "Mr L---- +used to wish so much for a son.--I hope the boy will live to see his +father." + +Last night, partly by persuasion, partly by compulsion, I prevailed with +her to let the child be taken out of her room. This morning, as soon as +it was light, I heard her bell ring; the poor little thing was at that +moment in convulsions; and knowing that Lady Leonora rang to inquire for +it, I went to prepare her mind for what I knew must be the event. The +moment I came into the room she looked eagerly in my face, but did not +ask me any questions about the child. I sat down by the side of her bed; +but without listening to what I said about her own health, she rang her +bell again more violently than before. Susan came in. "Susan!--without +my child!"--said she, starting up. Susan hesitated, but I saw by her +countenance that it was all over--so did Lady Leonora. She said not a +word, but drawing her curtain suddenly, she lay down, and never spoke or +stirred for three hours. The first words she said afterwards were to me: + +"You need not move so softly, my dear Helen; I am not asleep. Have you +my mother's last letter? I think my mother says that she will be here +to-morrow? She is very kind to come to me. Will you be so good as to +write to her immediately, and send a servant with your letter as soon as +you can to meet her on the road, that she may not be _surprised_ when +she arrives?" + +Lady Leonora is now more composed and more like herself than she has +been for some time past. I rejoice that your grace will so soon be here, +because you will be her best possible consolation; and I do not know any +other person in the world who could have sufficient influence to prevent +her from attempting to set out upon a journey before she can travel with +safety. To do her justice, she has not hinted that such were her +intentions; but still I know her mind so well, that I am certain what +her thoughts are, and what her actions would be. Most ladies talk more +than they act, but Leonora acts more decidedly than she talks. + + Believe me, dear madam, + With much respect, + Your grace's + Sincerely affectionate + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter lxxxv. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + +I thank you, my excellent friend, for the kindness of your last +letter,[3] which came to me at the time I wanted it most. In the whole +course of my life I never felt so much self-reproach as I have done +since I heard of the illness of Leonora and the loss of my son. From +this blow my mind will not easily recover. Of all torments self-reproach +is the worst. And even now I cannot follow the dictates of my own heart +and of my better judgment. + +In Olivia's company I am compelled to repress my feelings; she cannot +sympathize in them; they offend her: she is dissatisfied even with my +silence, and complains of my being out of spirits. Out of spirits!--How +can I be otherwise at present? Has Olivia no touch of pity for a woman +who was once her friend, who always treated her with generous kindness? +But perhaps I am a little unreasonable, and expect too much from female +nature. + +At all events, I wish that Olivia would spare me at this moment her +sentimental metaphysics. She is for ever attempting to prove to me that +I cannot love so well as she can. I admit that I cannot talk of love so +finely. I hope all this will not go on when we arrive at Petersburg. + +The ministry at last know their own minds. I saw ---- to-day, and +everything will be quickly arranged; therefore, my dear friend, do not +delay coming to town, to + + Your obliged + F. L----. + +[Footnote 3: This letter does not appear.] + + + + + Letter lxxxvi. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +Perhaps you are a _little_ unreasonable! Indeed, my dear friend, I do +not think you a _little_ unreasonable, but very nearly stark mad. What! +quarrel with your mistress because she is not sorry that your wife is +ill, and because she cannot sympathize in your grief for the loss of +your son! Where, except perhaps in absurd novels, did you ever meet with +these paragons of mistresses, who were so magnanimous and so generous as +to sacrifice their own reputations, and then be satisfied to share the +only possible good remaining to them in life, the heart of their lover, +with a rival more estimable, more amiable than themselves, and who has +the advantage of being a wife? This sharing of hearts, this union of +souls with this opposition of interests--this metaphysical gallantry is +absolute nonsense, and all who try it in real life will find it so to +their cost. Why should you, my dear L----, expect such superlative +excellence from your Olivia? Do you think that a woman by losing one +virtue increases the strength of those that remain, as it is said that +the loss of one of our senses renders all the others more acute? Do you +think that a lady, by yielding to love, and by proving that she has not +sufficient resolution or forbearance to preserve the honour of her sex, +gives the best possible demonstration of her having sufficient strength +of character to rise superior to all the other weaknesses incident to +human, and more especially to female nature--envy and jealousy for +instance? + +No, no, my good friend, you have common sense, though you lately have +been sparing of it in action. You had a wife, and a good wife, and you +had some chance of being happy; but with a wife and a mistress, granting +them to be both the best of their kind, the probabilities are rather +against you. I speak only as a man of the world: morality, you know, is +now merely an affair of calculation. According to the most approved +tables of happiness, you have made a bad bargain. But be just, at any +rate, and do not blame your Olivia for the inconveniences and evils +inseparable from the species of connexion that you have been pleased to +form. Do you expect the whole course of society and the nature of the +human heart to change for your special accommodation? Do you believe in +truth by wholesale, and yet in detail expect a happy exception in your +own favour?--Seriously, my dear friend, you must either break off this +connexion or bear it. I shall see you in a few days. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxxxvij. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Leonora has recovered her strength surprisingly. She was so determined +to be well, that her body dared not contradict her mind. Her excellent +mother has been of the greatest possible service to us, for she has had +sufficient influence to prevent her daughter from exerting herself too +much. Her grace had a letter from Mr L---- to-day--very short--but very +kind--at least all that I heard read of it. He has set my heart somewhat +more at ease by the comfortable assurance, that he will not leave +England without seeing Lady Leonora. I have the greatest hopes from this +interview! I have not felt so happy for many months--but I will not be +too sanguine. Mr L---- talks of being here the latter end of this month. +The duchess, with her usual prudence, intends to leave her daughter +before that time, lest Mr L---- should be constrained by her presence, +or should imagine that Leonora acts from any impulse but that of her own +heart. I also, though much against my inclinations, shall decamp; for he +might perhaps consider me as an adviser, caballer, confidante, or at +least a troublesome spectator. All reconciliation scenes should be +without spectators. Men do not like to be seen on their knees: they are +at a loss, like Sir Walter Raleigh in "The Critic;" they cannot get off +gracefully. + + I am, dear Margaret, + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter lxxxviij. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Friday. + + My dear L----, + +Ask yourself, in the name of common sense, why you should go to +Petersburg with this sentimental coquette, this romantic termagant, of +whom I see you are already more than half tired. As to your being bound +to her in honour, I cannot see how. Why should you make honour, justice, +humanity, and gratitude, plead so finely all on one side, and that the +wrong side of the question? Have none of these one word to whisper in +favour of anybody in this world but of a worthless mistress, who makes +you miserable? I think you have learned from your heroine to be so +expert in sentimental logic, that you can change virtues into vices, and +vices into virtues, till at last you do not know them asunder. Else why +should you make it a point of conscience to abandon your wife--just at +the moment, too, when you are thoroughly convinced of her love for you, +when you are touched to the soul by her generous conduct, and when your +heart longs to return to her? + +Please to remember that this Lady Olivia's reputation was not +unimpeached before her acquaintance with you, and do not take more glory +or more blame to yourself than properly falls to your share. Do not +forget that _poor_ R*** was your predecessor, and do not let this +delicate lady rest all the weight of her shame upon you, as certain +Chinese culprits rest their portable pillories on the shoulders of +their friends. + +In two days I shall follow this letter, and repeat in person all the +interrogatories I have just put to you, my dear friend. Prepare yourself +to answer me sincerely such questions as I shall ask. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxxxix. + + _From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Monday, 12 o'clock. + +For a few days did you say? To _bid adieu_? Oh! if once more you return +to that fatal castle, that enchanted home, Olivia for ever loses all +power over your heart. Bid her die, stab her to the heart, and she will +call it mercy, and she will bless you with her dying lips; but talk not +of leaving your Olivia! On her knees she writes this, her face all +bathed in tears. And must she in her turn implore and supplicate? Must +she abase herself even to the dust? Yes--love like hers vanquishes even +the stubborn potency of female pride. + + Your too fond + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xc. + +_From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + [Dated a few hours after the preceding.] + + + Monday, half-past three. + +Oh! this equivocating answer to my fond heart! Passion makes and admits +of no compromise. Be mine, and wholly mine--or never, never will I +survive your desertion! I can be happy only whilst I love; I can love +only whilst I am beloved with fervency equal to my own; and when I cease +to love, I cease to exist! No coward fears restrain my soul. The word +suicide shocks not my ear, appals not my understanding. Death I consider +but as the eternal rest of the wretched--the sweet, the sole refuge of +despair. + + Your resolute + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xci. + + + _From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Tuesday. + +Return! return! on the wings of love return to the calm, the prudent, +the happy, the transcendently happy Leonora! Return--but not to bid her +adieu--return to be hers for ever, and only hers. I give you back your +faith--I _give_ you back your promises--you have _taken_ back your +heart. + +But if you should desire once more to see Olivia, if you should have any +lingering wish to bid her a last adieu, it must be this evening. +To-morrow's sun rises not for Olivia. For her but a few short hours +remain. Love, let them be all thy own! Intoxicate thy victim, mingle +pleasure in the cup of death, and bid her fearless quaff it to the +dregs!---- + + + + + Letter xcij. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + Thursday. + + My dear Friend, + +You have by argument and raillery, and by every means that kindness and +goodness could devise, endeavoured to expel from my mind a passion which +you justly foresaw would be destructive of my happiness, and of the +peace of a most estimable and amiable woman. With all the skill that a +thorough knowledge of human nature in general, and of my peculiar +character and foibles, could bestow, you have employed those + + ----"Words and spells which can control, + Between the fits, the fever of the soul." + +Circumstances have operated in conjunction with your skill to "medicine +me to repose." The fits have gradually become weaker and weaker, the +fever is now gone, but I am still to suffer for the extravagancies +committed during its delirium. I have entered into engagements which +must be fulfilled; I have involved myself in difficulties from which I +see no method of extricating myself honourably. Notwithstanding all the +latitude which the system of modern gallantry allows to the conscience +of our sex, and in spite of the convenient maxim, which maintains that +all arts are allowable in love and war, I think that a man cannot break +a promise, whether made in words or by tacit implication, on the faith +of which a woman sacrifices her reputation and happiness. Lady Olivia +has thrown herself upon my protection. I am as sensible as you can be, +my dear general, that scandal had attacked her reputation before our +acquaintance commenced; but though the world had suspicions, they had no +proofs: now there can be no longer any defence made for her character, +there is no possibility of her returning to that rank in society to +which she was entitled by her birth, and which she adorned with all the +brilliant charms of wit and beauty; no happiness, no chance of happiness +remains for her but from my constancy. Of naturally violent passions, +unused to the control of authority, habit, reason, or religion, and at +this time impelled by love and jealousy, Olivia is on the brink of +despair. I am not apt to believe that women die in modern times for +love, nor am I easily disposed to think that I could inspire a dangerous +degree of enthusiasm; yet I am persuaded that Olivia's passion, +compounded as it is of various sentiments beside love, has taken such +possession of her imagination, and is, as she fancies, so necessary to +her existence, that if I were to abandon her, she would destroy that +life, which she has already attempted, I thank God! ineffectually. What +a spectacle is a woman in a paroxysm of rage!--a woman we love, or whom +we have loved! + + * * * * * + +Excuse me, my dear friend, if I wrote incoherently, for I have been +interrupted many times since I began this letter. I am this day +overwhelmed by a multiplicity of affairs, which, in consequence of +Olivia's urgency to leave England immediately, must be settled with an +expedition for which my head is not at present well qualified. I do not +feel well: I can command my attention but on one subject, and on that +all my thoughts are to no purpose. Whichever way I now act, I must +endure and inflict misery. I must either part from a wife who has given +me the most tender, the most touching proofs of affection--a wife who is +all that a man can esteem, admire, and love; or I must abandon a +mistress, who loves me with all the desperation of passion to which she +would fall a sacrifice. But why do I talk as if I were still at liberty +to make a choice?--My head is certainly very confused. I forgot that I +am bound by a solemn promise, and this is the evil which distracts me. I +will give you, if I can, a clear narrative. + +Last night I had a terrible scene with Olivia. I foresaw that she would +be alarmed by my intended visit to L---- Castle, even though it was but +to take leave of my Leonora. I abstained from seeing Olivia to avoid +altercation, and with all the delicacy in my power I wrote to her, +assuring her that my resolution was fixed. Note after note came from +her, with pathetic and passionate appeals to my heart; but I was still +resolute. At length, the day before that on which I was to set out for +L---- Castle, she wrote to warn me, that if I wished to take a last +farewell, I must see her that evening: her note concluded with, +"To-morrow's sun will not rise for Olivia." This threat, and many +strange hints of her opinions concerning suicide, I at the time +disregarded, as only thrown out to intimidate a lover. However, knowing +the violence of Olivia's temper, I was punctual to the appointed hour, +fully determined by my firmness to convince her that these female wiles +were vain. + +My dear friend, I would not advise the wisest man and the most +courageous upon earth to brave such dangers, confident in his strength. +Even a victory may cost him too dear. + +I found Olivia reclining on a sofa, her beautiful tresses unbound, her +dress the perfection of elegant negligence. I half suspected that it was +studied negligence; yet I could not help pausing, as I entered, to +contemplate a figure. She never looked more beautiful--more fascinating. +Holding out her hand to me, she said, with her languid smile and tender +expression of voice and manner, "You _are_ come then to bid me farewell. +I doubted whether . . . But I will not upbraid--mine be all the pain of +this last adieu. During the few minutes we have to pass together, + + 'Between us two let there be peace.'" + +I sat down beside her, rather agitated, I confess, but commanding myself +so that my emotion could not be visible. In a composed tone I asked, why +she spoke of a last adieu? and observed that we should meet again in a +few days. + +"Never!" replied Olivia. "Weak woman as I am, love inspires me with +sufficient force to make and to keep this resolution." + +As she spoke, she took from her bosom a rose, and presenting it to me in +a solemn manner, "Put this rose into water to-night," continued she; +"to-morrow it will be alive!" + +Her look, her expressive eyes, seemed to say, This flower will be alive, +but Olivia will be dead. I am ashamed to confess that I was silent, +because I could not just then speak. + +"I have used some precaution," resumed Olivia, "to spare you, my dearest +L----, unnecessary pain.--Look around you." + +The room, I now for the first time observed, was ornamented with +flowers. + +"This apartment, I hope," continued she, "has not the air of the chamber +of death. I have endeavoured to give it a festive appearance, that the +remembrance of your last interview with your once loved Olivia may be at +least unmixed with horror." + +At this instant, my dear general, a confused recollection of Rousseau's +Heloise, the dying scene, and her room ornamented with flowers, came +into my imagination, and destroying the idea of reality, changed +suddenly the whole course of my feelings. + +In a tone of raillery I represented to Olivia her resemblance to Julie, +and observed that it was a pity she had not a lover whose temper was +more similar than mine to that of the divine St Preux. Stung to the +heart by my ill-timed raillery, Olivia started up from the sofa, broke +from my arms with sudden force, snatched from the table a penknife, and +plunged it into her side. + +She was about to repeat the blow, but I caught her arm--she +struggled--"Promise me, then," cried she, "that you will never more see +my hated rival." + +"I cannot make such a promise, Olivia," said I, holding her uplifted arm +forcibly. "I will not." + +The words "hated rival," which showed me that Olivia was actuated more +by the spirit of hatred than love, made me reply in as decided a tone as +even you could have spoken, my dear general. But I was shocked, and +reproached myself with cruelty, when I saw the blood flow from her side; +she was terrified. I took the knife from her powerless hand, and she +fainted in my arms. I had sufficient presence of mind to reflect that +what had happened should be kept as secret as possible; therefore, +without summoning Josephine, whose attachment to her mistress I have +reason to suspect, I threw open the windows, gave Olivia air and water, +and her senses returned: then I despatched my Swiss for a surgeon. I +need not speak of my own feelings--no suspense could be more dreadful +than that which I endured between the sending for the surgeon and the +moment when he gave his opinion. He relieved me at once, by pronouncing +it to be a slight flesh wound, that would be of no manner of +consequence. Olivia, however, whether from alarm or pain, or from the +sight of the blood, fainted three times during the dressing of her side; +and though the surgeon assured her that it would be perfectly well in a +few days, she was evidently apprehensive that we concealed from her the +real danger. At the idea of the approach of death, which now took +possession of her imagination, all courage forsook her, and for some +time my efforts to support her spirits were ineffectual. She could not +dispense with the services of Josephine; and from the moment this French +woman entered the room, there was nothing to be heard but exclamations +the most violent and noisy. As to assistance, she could give none. At +last her exaggerated demonstrations of horror and grief ended +with--"Dieu merci! au moins nous voilà delivrés de ce voyage affreux. +Apparemment qu'il ne sera plus question de ce vilain Petersburg pour +madame." + +A new train of thoughts was roused by these words in Olivia's mind; and +looking at me, she eagerly inquired why the journey to Petersburg was to +be given up, if she was in no danger? I assured her that Josephine spoke +at random, that my intentions with regard to the embassy to Russia were +unaltered. + +"Seulement retardé un peu," said Josephine, who was intent only upon her +own selfish object.--"Sûrement, madame ne voyagera pas dans cet etat!" + +Olivia started up, and looking at me with terrific wildness in her eyes, +"Swear to me," said she, "swear that you will not deceive me, or I will +this instant tear open this wound, and never more suffer it to be +closed." + +"Deceive you, Olivia!" cried I, "what deceit can you fear from me?--What +is it you require of me?" + +"I require from you a promise, a solemn promise, that you will go with +_me_ to Russia!" + +"I solemnly promise that I will," said I: "now be tranquil, Olivia, I +beseech you." + +The surgeon represented the necessity of keeping herself quiet, and +declared that he would not answer for the cure of his patient on any +other terms. Satisfied by the solemnity of my promise, Olivia now +suffered me to depart. This morning she sends me word that in a few days +she shall be ready to leave England. Can you meet me, my dear friend, at +L---- Castle? I go down there to-day, to bid adieu to Leonora. From +thence I shall proceed to Yarmouth, and embark immediately. Olivia will +follow me. + + Your obliged + F. L----. + + + + + Letter xciij. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + L---- Castle. + + Dearest Mother, + +My husband is here! at home with me, with your happy Leonora--and his +heart is with her. His looks, his voice, his manner tell me so, and by +them I never was deceived. No, he is incapable of deceit. Whatever have +been his errors, he never stooped to dissimulation. He is again my own, +still capable of loving me, still worthy of all my affection. I knew +that the delusion could not last long, or rather you told me so, my best +friend, and I believed you; you did him justice. He was indeed +deceived--who might not have been deceived by Olivia? His passions were +under the power of an enchantress; but now he has triumphed over her +arts. He sees her such as she is, and her influence ceases. + +I am not absolutely certain of all this; but I believe, because I hope +it! yet he is evidently embarrassed, and seems unhappy: what can be the +meaning of this? Perhaps he does not yet know his Leonora sufficiently +to be secure of her forgiveness. How I long to set his heart at ease, +and to say to him, let the past be forgotten for ever! How easy it is +to the happy to forgive! There have been moments when I could not, I +fear, have been just, when I am sure that I could not have been +generous. I shall immediately offer to accompany Mr L----to Russia; I +can have no farther hesitation, for I see that he wishes it; indeed, +just now he almost said so. His baggage is already embarked at +Yarmouth--he sails in a few days--and in a few hours your daughter's +fate, your daughter's happiness, will be decided. It is decided, for I +am sure he loves me; I see, I hear, I feel it. Dearest mother, I write +to you in the first moment of joy.--I hear his foot upon the stairs. + + Your happy + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter xciv. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + L---- Castle. + + My dear Mother, + +My hopes are all vain. Your prophecies will never be accomplished. We +have both been mistaken in Mr L----'s character, and henceforward your +daughter must not depend upon him for any portion of her happiness. I +once thought it impossible that my love for him could be diminished: he +has changed my opinion. Mine is not that species of weak or abject +affection which can exist under the sense of ill treatment and +injustice, much less can my love survive esteem for its object. + +I told you, my dear mother, and I believed, that his affections had +returned to me; but I was mistaken. He has not sufficient strength or +generosity of soul to love me, or to do justice to my love. I offered +to go with him to Russia: he answered, "That is +impossible."--Impossible!--Is it then impossible for him to do that +which is just or honourable? or seeing what is right, must he follow +what is wrong? or can his heart never more be touched by virtuous +affections? Is his taste so changed, so depraved, that he can now be +pleased and charmed only by what is despicable and profligate in our +sex? Then I should rejoice that we are to be separated--separated for +ever. May years and years pass away and wear out, if possible, the +memory of all he has been to me! I think I could better, much better +bear the total loss, the death of him I have loved, than endure to feel +that he had survived both my affection and esteem; to see the person the +same, but the soul changed; to feel every day, every hour, that I must +despise what I have so admired and loved. + +Mr L---- is gone from hence. He leaves England the day after to-morrow. +Lady Olivia is to _follow_ him. I am glad that public decency is not to +be outraged by their embarking together. My dearest mother, be assured +that at this moment your daughter's feelings are worthy of you. +Indignation and the pride of virtue support her spirit. + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter xcv. + + _General B---- to Lady Leonora L----._ + + + Yarmouth. + +Had I not the highest confidence in Lady Leonora L----'s fortitude, I +should not venture to write to her at this moment, knowing as I do that +she is but just recovered from a dangerous illness. + +Mr L---- had requested me to meet him at L----Castle previous to his +leaving England, but it was out of my power. I met him however on the +road to Yarmouth, and as we travelled together I had full opportunity of +seeing the state of his mind. Permit me--the urgency of the case +requires it--to speak without reserve, with the freedom of an old +friend. I imagine that your ladyship parted from Mr L----with feelings +of indignation, at which I cannot be surprised: but if you had seen him +as I saw him, indignation would have given way to pity. Loving you, +madam, as you deserve to be loved, most ardently, most tenderly; touched +to his inmost soul by the proofs of affection he had seen in your +letters, in your whole conduct, even to the last moment of parting; my +unhappy friend felt himself bound to resist the temptation of staying +with you, or of accepting your generous offer to accompany him to +Petersburg. He thought himself bound in honour by a promise extorted +from him to save from suicide one whom he thinks he has injured, one who +has thrown herself upon his protection. Of the conflict in his mind at +parting with your ladyship I can judge from what he suffered afterwards. +I met Mr L---- with feelings of extreme indignation, but before I had +been an hour in his company, I never pitied any man so much in my life, +for I never yet saw any one so truly wretched, and so thoroughly +convinced that he deserved to be so. You know that he is not one who +often gives way to his emotions, not one who expresses them much in +words--but he could not command his feelings. + +The struggle was too violent. I have no doubt that it was the real cause +of his present illness. As the moment approached when he was to leave +England, he became more and more agitated. Towards evening he sunk into +a sort of apathy and gloomy silence, from which he suddenly broke into +delirious raving. At twelve o'clock last night, the night he was to +have sailed, he was seized with a violent and infectious fever. As to +the degree of immediate danger, the physicians here cannot yet +pronounce. I have sent to town for Dr *****. Your ladyship may be +certain that I shall not quit my friend, and that he shall have every +possible assistance and attendance. + + I am, with the truest esteem, + Your ladyship's faithful servant, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xcvi. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + L---- Castle. + + Dear Mother, + +This moment an express from General B----. Mr L---- is dangerously ill +at Yarmouth--a fever brought on by the agitation of his mind. How unjust +I have been! Forget all I said in my last. I write in the utmost +haste--just setting out for Yarmouth. I hope to be there to-morrow. + + Your affectionate + Leonora L----. + +I open this to enclose the general's letter, which will explain +everything. + + + + + Letter xcvij. + + _General B---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dear Madam, + +Your grace, I find, is apprised of Lady Leonora L----'s journey hither: +I fear that you rely upon my prudence for preventing her exposing +herself to the danger of catching this dreadful fever. But that has been +beyond my power. Her ladyship arrived late last night. I had foreseen +the probability of her coming, but not the possibility of her coming so +soon. I had taken no precautions, and she was in the house and upon the +stairs in an instant. No entreaties, no arguments could stop her; I +assured her that Mr L----'s fever was pronounced by all the physicians +to be of the most infectious kind. Dr ***** joined me in representing +that she would expose her life to almost certain danger if she persisted +in her determination to see her husband; but she pressed forward, +regardless of all that could be said. To the physicians she made no +answer; to me she replied, "You are Mr L----'s friend, but I am his +wife: you have not feared to hazard your life for him, and do you think +I can hesitate?" I urged that there was no necessity for more than one +person's running this hazard; and that since it had fallen to my lot to +be with my friend when he was first taken ill----She interrupted me--"Is +not this taking a cruel advantage of me, general? You know that I, too, +would have been with Mr L---- if--if it had been possible." Her manner, +her pathetic emphasis, and the force of her implied meaning, struck me +so much, that I was silent, and suffered her to pass on; but again the +idea of her danger rushing upon my mind, I sprang before her to the door +of Mr L----'s apartment, and opposed her entrance. "Then, general," said +she calmly, "perhaps you mistake me--perhaps you have heard repeated +some unguarded words of mine in the moment of indignation . . . unjust . . . +you best know how unjust indignation!--and you infer from these that +my affection for my husband is extinguished. I deserve this--but do not +punish me too severely." + +I still kept my hand upon the lock of the door, expostulating with Lady +Leonora in your grace's name, and in Mr L----'s assuring her that if he +were conscious of what was passing, and able to speak, he would order me +to prevent her seeing him in his present situation. + +"And you, too, general!" said she, bursting into tears: "I thought you +were my friend--would you prevent me from seeing him? And is not he +conscious of what is passing? And is not he able to speak? Sir, I must +be admitted! You have done your duty--now let me do mine. Consider, my +right is superior to yours. No power on earth should or can prevent a +wife from seeing her husband when he is . . . Dear, dear general!" said +she, clasping her raised hands, and falling suddenly at my feet, "let me +see him but for one minute, and I will be grateful to you for ever!" + +I could resist no longer--I tremble for the consequences. I know your +grace sufficiently to be aware that you ought to be told the whole +truth. I have but little hopes of my poor friend's life. + + With much respect, + Your grace's faithful servant, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xcviij. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond. + +A mist hung over my eyes, and "my ears with hollow murmurs rung," when +the dreadful tidings of your alarming illness were announced by your +cruel messenger. My dearest L----! why does inexorable destiny doom me +to be absent from you at such a crisis? Oh! this fatal wound of mine! It +would, I fear, certainly open again if I were to travel. So this +corporeal being must be imprisoned here, while my anxious soul, my +viewless spirit, hovers near you, longing to minister each tender +consolation, each nameless comfort that love alone can, with fond +prescience and magic speed, summon round the couch of pain. + +"O that I had the wings of a dove, that I might fly to you!" Why must I +resign the sweetly-painful task of soothing you in the hour of sickness? +And shall others, with officious zeal, + + "Guess the faint wish, explain the asking eye"? + +Alas! it must be so--even were I to fly to him, my sensibility could not +support the scene. To behold him stretched on the bed of +disease--perhaps of death--would be agony past endurance. Let firmer +nerves than Olivia's, and hearts more callous, assume the offices from +which they shrink not. 'Tis the fate, the hard fate of all endued with +exquisite sensibility, to be palsied by the excess of their feelings, +and to become imbecile at the moment their exertions are most necessary. + + Your too tenderly sympathizing + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xcix. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + +My husband is alive, and that is all. Never did I see, nor could I have +conceived, such a change, and in so short a time! When I opened the +door, his eyes turned upon me with unmeaning eagerness: he did not know +me. The good general thought my voice might have some effect. I spoke, +but could obtain no answer, no sign of intelligence. In vain I called +upon him by every name that used to reach his heart. I kneeled beside +him, and took one of his burning hands in mine. I kissed it, and +suddenly he started up, exclaiming, "Olivia! Olivia!" with dreadful +vehemence. In his delirium he raved about Olivia's stabbing herself, and +called upon us to hold her arm, looking wildly towards the foot of the +bed, as if the figure were actually before him. Then he sunk back, as if +quite exhausted, and gave a deep sigh. Some of my tears fell upon his +hand; he felt them before I perceived that they had fallen, and looked +so earnestly in my face, that I was in hopes his recollection was +returning; but he only said, "Olivia, I believe that you love me;" then +sighed more deeply than before, drew his hand away from me, and, as well +as I could distinguish, said something about Leonora. + +But why should I give you the pain of hearing all these circumstances, +my dear mother? It is enough to say, that he passed a dreadful night. +This morning the physicians say, that if he passes this night--if----my +dear mother, what a terrible suspense! + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter c. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + +Morning is at last come, and my husband is still alive: so there is yet +hope. When I said I thought I could bear to survive him, how little I +knew of myself, and how little, how very little I expected to be so soon +tried! All evils are remediable but one, that one which I dare not name. + +The physicians assure me that he is better. His friend, to whose +judgment I trust more, thinks as they do. I know not what to believe. I +dread to flatter myself and to be disappointed. I will write again, +dearest mother, to-morrow. + + Your ever affectionate + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter ci. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Wednesday. + +No material change since yesterday, my dear mother. This morning, as I +was searching for some medicine, I saw on the chimney-piece a note from +Lady Olivia ----. It might have been there yesterday, and ever since my +arrival, but I did not see it. At any other time it would have excited +my indignation, but my mind is now too much weakened by sorrow. My fears +for my husband's life absorb all other feelings. + + + + + Letter cij. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond. + +Words cannot express what I have suffered since I wrote last! Oh! why do +I not hear that the danger is over!--Long since would I have been with +you, all that my soul holds dear, could I have escaped from these +tyrants, these medical despots, who detain me by absolute force, and +watch over me with unrelenting vigilance. I have consulted Dr ***, who +assures me that my fears of my wound opening, were I to take so long a +journey, are too well-founded; that in the present feverish state of my +mind he would not answer for the consequences. I heed him not--life I +value not.--Most joyfully would I sacrifice myself for the man I love. +But even could I escape from my persecutors, too well I know that to see +you would be a vain attempt--too well I know that I should not be +admitted. Your love, your fears for Olivia would barbarously banish her +and forbid her your dear, your dangerous atmosphere. Too justly would +you urge that my rashness might prove our mutual ruin--that in the +moment of crisis or of convalescence, anxiety for me might defeat the +kind purpose of nature. And even were I secure of your recovery, the +delay, I speak not of the danger of my catching the disease, would, +circumstanced as we are, be death to our hopes. We should be compelled +to part. The winds would waft you from me. The waves would bear you to +another region, far--oh, far from your + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter ciij. + + _General B---- to the Duchess of ----_ + + + Yarmouth, Thursday, --. + + My dear Madam, + +Mr L---- has had a relapse, and is now more alarmingly ill than I have +yet seen him: he does not know his situation, for his delirium has +returned. The physicians give him over. Dr H---- says that we must +prepare for the worst. + +I have but one word of comfort for your grace--that your admirable +daughter's health has not yet suffered. + + Your grace's faithful servant, + J. B. + + + + + Letter civ. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dearest Mother, + +The delirium has subsided. A few minutes ago, as I was kneeling beside +him, offering up an almost hopeless prayer for his recovery, his eyes +opened, and I perceived that he knew me. He closed his eyes again +without speaking, opened them once more, and then looking at me fixedly, +exclaimed: "It is not a dream! You are Leonora!--_my_ Leonora!" + +What exquisite pleasure I felt at the sound of these words, at the tone +in which they were pronounced! My husband folded me in his arms; and, +till I felt his burning lips, I forgot that he was ill. + +When he came thoroughly to his recollection, and when the idea that his +fever might be infectious occurred to him, he endeavoured to prevail +upon me to leave the room. But what danger can there be for me _now_? My +whole soul, my whole frame is inspired with new life. If he recover, +your daughter may still be happy. + + + + + Letter cv. + + _General B---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + My dear Madam, + +A few hours ago my friend became perfectly sensible of his danger, and +calling me to his bedside, told me that he was eager to make use of the +little time which he might have to live. He was quite calm and +collected. He employed me to write his last wishes and bequests; and I +must do him the justice to declare, that the strongest idea and feeling +in his mind evidently was the desire to show his entire confidence in +his wife, and to give her, in his last moments, proofs of his esteem and +affection. When he had settled his affairs, he begged to be left alone +for some time. Between twelve and one his bell rang, and he desired to +see Lady Leonora and me. He spoke to me with that warmth of friendship +which he has ever felt from our childhood. Then turning to his wife, his +voice utterly failed, and he could only press to his lips that hand +which was held out to him in speechless agony. + +"Excellent woman!" he articulated at last; then collecting his mind, he +exclaimed, "My beloved Leonora, I will not die without expressing my +feelings for you; I know yours for me. I do not ask for that forgiveness +which your generous heart granted long before I deserved it. Your +affection for me has been shown by actions, at the hazard of your life; +I can only thank you with weak words. You possess my whole heart, my +esteem, my admiration, my gratitude." + +Lady Leonora, at the word _gratitude_, made an effort to speak, and laid +her hand upon her husband's lips. He added, in a more enthusiastic tone, +"You have my undivided love. Believe in the truth of these +words--perhaps they are the last I may ever speak." + +My friend sunk back exhausted, and I carried Lady Leonora out of the +room. + +I returned half an hour ago, and found everything silent: Mr L---- is +lying with his eyes closed--quite still--I hope asleep. This may be a +favourable crisis. I cannot delay this letter longer. + + Your grace's faithful servant, + J. B. + + + + + Letter cvi. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + + Dearest Mother, + +He has slept several hours.--Dr H----, the most skilful of all his +physicians, says that we may now expect his recovery. Adieu. The good +general will add a line to assure you that I am not deceived, nor too +sanguine. + + Yours most affectionately, + Leonora L----. + + _Postscript by General B----._ + +I have some hopes--that is all I can venture to say to your grace. + + + + + Letter cvij. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + + Dearest Mother, + +Excellent news for you to-day!--Mr L---- is pronounced out of danger. He +seems excessively touched by my coming here, and so grateful for the +little kindness I have been able to show him during his illness! But, +alas! that fatal promise! the recollection of it comes across my mind +like a spectre. Mr L---- has never touched upon this subject--I do all +in my power to divert his thoughts to indifferent objects. + +This morning, when I went into his room, I found him tearing to pieces +that note which I mentioned to you a few days ago. He seemed much +agitated, and desired to see General B----. They are now together, and +were talking so loud in the next room to me, that I was obliged to +retire, lest I should overhear secrets. Mr L---- this moment sends for +me. If I should not have time to add more, this short letter will +satisfy you for to-day. + + Leonora L----. + +I open my letter to say, that I am not so happy as I was when I began +it. I have heard all the circumstances relative to this terrible affair. +Mr L---- will go to Russia. I am as far from happiness as ever. + + + + + Letter cviij. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond. + + "Say, is not absence death to those that love?" + +How just, how beautiful a sentiment! yet cold and callous is that heart +which knows not that there is a pang more dreadful than absence--far as +the death of lingering torture exceeds, in corporeal sufferance, the +soft slumber of expiring nature. Suspense! suspense! compared with thy +racking agony, even absence is but the blessed euthanasia of love. + +My dearest L----, why this torturing silence? one line, one word, I +beseech you, from _your own hand_; say but _I live and love you, my +Olivia_. Hour after hour, and day after day, have I waited and waited, +and hoped, and feared to hear from you. O, this intolerable agonizing +suspense! Yet hope clings to my fond heart--hope! sweet treacherous +hope! + + "Non so si la Speranza + Va con l'inganno unita; + So che mantiene in vita + Qualche infelici almen." + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter cix. + + _Mr L---- to Olivia._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dear Olivia, + +This is the first line I have written since my illness. I could not +sooner relieve you from suspense, for during most of this time I have +been delirious, and never till now able to write. My physicians have +this morning pronounced me out of danger; and as soon as my strength is +sufficient to bear the voyage, I shall sail, according to my promise. + +Your prudence, or that of your physician, has saved me much +anxiety--perhaps saved my life: for had you been so rash as to come +hither, beside my fears for your safety, I should have been exposed, in +the moment of my returning reason, to a conflict of passions which I +could not have borne. + +Leonora is with me; she arrived the night after I was taken ill, and +forced her way to me, when my fever was at the highest, and while I was +in a state of delirium. + +Lady Leonora will stay with me till the moment I sail, which I expect to +do in about ten days. I cannot say positively, for I am still very weak, +and may not be able to keep my word to a day. Adieu. I hope your mind +will now be at ease. I am glad to hear from the surgeon that your wound +is quite closed. I will write again, and more fully, when I am better +able. Believe me, Olivia, I am most anxious to secure your happiness: +allow me to believe that this will be in the power of + + Yours sincerely, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter cx. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond. + +Barbarous man! with what cold cruelty you plunge a dagger into my heart! +Leonora is with you!--Leonora! Then I am undone. Yes, she will--she has +resumed all her power, her rights, her habitual empire over your heart. +Wretched Olivia!--But you say it is your wish to secure my happiness, +you bid me allow you to believe it is in your power. What phrases!--You +will sail, _according to your promise_.--Then nothing but your honour +binds you to Olivia. And even now, at this guilty instant, in your +secret soul, you wish, you expect from my offended pride, from my +disgusted delicacy, a renunciation of this promise, a release from all +the ties that bind you to me. You are right: this is what I ought to do; +what I would do, if love had not so weakened my soul, so prostrated my +spirit, rendered me so abject a creature, that _I cannot_ what _I +would_. + +I must love on--female pride and resentment call upon me in vain. I +cannot hate you. Even by the feeble tie, which I see you long to break, +I must hold, rather than let you go for ever. I will not renounce your +promise. I claim it. I adjure you, by all which a man of honour holds +most sacred, to quit England the moment your health will allow you to +sail. No equivocating with your conscience!--I hold you to your word. +Oh, my dearest L----! to feel myself reduced to use such language to +you, to find myself clinging to that last resource of shipwrecked love, +_a promise_! It is with unspeakable agony I feel all this; lower I +cannot sink in misery. Raise me, if indeed you wish my happiness--raise +me! it is yet in your power. Tell me, that my too susceptible heart has +mistaken phantoms for realities--tell me, that your last was not colder +than usual; yes, I am ready to be deceived. Tell me that it was only the +languor of disease; assure me that my rival forced her way only to your +presence, that she has not won her easy way back to your heart--assure +me that you are impatient once more to see your own + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter cxi. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dearest Mother, + +Can you believe or imagine that I am actually unwilling to say or to +think that Mr L---- is quite well? yet this is the fact. Such is the +inconsistency and weakness of our natures--of my nature, I should say. +But a short time ago I thought that no evil could be so great as his +danger; now that danger is past, I dread to hear him say that he is +perfectly recovered. The moment he is able he goes to Russia; that is +decided irrevocably. The promise has been claimed and repeated. A solemn +promise cannot be broken for any human consideration. I should despise +him if he broke it; but can I love him for keeping it? His mind is at +this instant agitated as much as mine is--more it cannot. Yet I ought to +be better able to part with him now than when we parted before, because +I have now at least the consolation of knowing that he leaves me against +his will--that his heart will not go from me. This time I cannot be +deceived; I have had the most explicit assurances of his _undivided_ +love. And indeed I was never deceived. All the appearances of regret at +parting with me were genuine. The general witnessed the consequent +struggle in Mr L----'s mind, and this fever followed. + +I will endeavour to calm and content myself with the possession of his +love, and with the assurance that he will return to me as soon as +possible. As soon as possible! but what a vague hope! He sails with the +first fair wind. What a dreadful certainty! Perhaps to-morrow! Oh, my +dearest mother, perhaps to-night! + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter cxij. + + _General B---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dear Madam, + +To-day Mr L----, finding himself sufficiently recovered, gave orders to +all his suite to embark, and the wind being fair, determined to go on +board immediately. In the midst of the bustle of the preparations for +his departure, Lady Leonora, exhausted by her former activity, and +unable to take any part in what was passing, sat silent, pale and +motionless, opposite to a window, which looked out upon the sea; the +vessel in which her husband was to sail lay in sight, and her eyes were +fixed upon the streamers, watching their motion in the wind. + +Mr L---- was in his own apartment writing letters. An express arrived; +and among other letters for the English ambassador to Russia, there was +a large packet directed to Lady Leonora L----. Upon opening it the +crimson colour flew into her face, and she exclaimed, "Olivia's +letters!--Lady Olivia ----'s letters to Mad. de P----. Who could send +these to me?" + +"I give you joy with all my heart!" cried I; "no matter how they +come--they come in the most fortunate moment possible. I would stake my +life upon it they will unmask Olivia at once. Where is Mr L----? He must +read them this moment." + +I was hurrying out of the room to call my friend, but Lady Leonora +stopped my career, and checked the transport of my joy. + +"You do not think, my dear general," said she, "that I would for any +consideration do so dishonourable an action as to read these letters?" + +"Only let Mr L---- read them," interrupted I, "that is all I ask of your +ladyship. Give them to me. For the soul of me I can see nothing +dishonourable in this. Let Lady Olivia be judged by her own words. Your +ladyship shall not be troubled with her trash, but give the letters to +me, I beseech you." + +"No, I cannot," said Lady Leonora steadily. "It is a great temptation; +but I ought not to yield." She deliberately folded them up in a blank +cover, directed them to Lady Olivia, and sealed them; whilst I, half in +admiration and half in anger, went on expostulating. + +"Good God! this is being too generous! But, my dear Lady Leonora, why +will you sacrifice yourself? This is misplaced delicacy! Show those +letters, and I'll lay my life Mr L---- never goes to Russia." + +"My dear friend," said she, looking up with tears in her eyes, "do not +tempt me beyond my power to resist. Say no more." At this instant Mr +L---- came into the room; and I am ashamed to confess to your grace, I +really was so little master of myself, that I was upon the point of +seizing Olivia's letters, and putting them into his hands. "L----," said +I, "here is your admirable wife absurdly, yes, I must say it, absurdly +standing upon a point of honour with one who has none! That packet which +she has before her----" + +Lady Leonora imposed silence upon me by one of those looks which no man +can resist. + +"My dear Leonora, you are right," said Mr L----; "and you are almost +right, my dear general: I know what that packet contains; and without +doing anything dishonourable, I hold myself absolved from my promise; I +shall not go to Russia, my dearest wife!" He flew into her arms--and I +left them. I question whether they either of them felt much more than I +did. + +For some minutes I was content with knowing that these things had really +happened, that I had heard Mr L---- say he was absolved from all +promises, and that he would not go to Russia; but how did all this +happen so suddenly?--How did he know the contents of Olivia's letters, +and without doing anything dishonourable? There are some people who +cannot be perfectly happy till they know the _rationale_ of their +happiness. I am one of these. I did not feel "a sober certainty of +waking bliss," till I read a letter which Mr L----received by the same +express that brought Olivia's letters, and which he read while we were +debating. I beg your grace's pardon if I am too minute in explanation; +but I do as I would be done by. The letter was from one of the private +secretaries, who is, I understand, a relation and friend of Lady Leonora +L----. As the original goes this night to Lady Olivia, I send your grace +a copy. You will give me credit for copying, and at such a time as this! +I congratulate your grace, and + + I have the honour to be, &c., + J. B. + + + + + Letter cxiij. + + _To Mr L----._ + + + [Private.] + + London, St James's-street. + + My dear Sir, + +In the same moment you receive this, your lady, for whom I have the +highest regard, will receive from me a valuable present, a packet of +Lady Olivia ----'s letters to one of her French friends. These letters +were lately found in a French frigate, taken by one of our cruisers; +and, as _intercepted correspondence_ is the order of the day, these, +with all the despatches on board, were transmitted to our office to be +examined, in hopes of making reprisals of state secrets. Some letters +about the court and Emperor of Russia led us to suppose that we should +find some political manoeuvres, and we examined farther. The examination +fortunately fell to my lot, as private secretary. After looking them all +over, however, I found that these papers contain only family secrets: I +obtained permission to send them to Lady Leonora L----, to ensure the +triumph of virtue over vice--to put it into her ladyship's power +completely to unmask her unworthy rival. These letters will show you by +what arts you have been deceived. You will find yourself ridiculed as _a +cold awkward Englishman_; one who will _hottentot again, whatever pains +may be taken to civilise him; a man of ice_, to be taken as a lover from +_pure charity_, or _pure curiosity_, or the pure _besoin d'aimer_. Here +are many pure motives, of which you will, my dear sir, take your choice. +You will farther observe in one of her letters, that Lady Olivia +premeditated the design of prevailing with you to carry her to Russia, +that she might show her power _to that proudest of earthly prudes_, the +Duchess of ***, and that she might _gratify her great revenge against +Lady Leonora L----_. + +Sincerely hoping, my dear sir, that these letters may open your eyes, +and restore you and my amiable relation to domestic happiness, I make no +apology for the liberty I take, and cannot regret the momentary pain I +may inflict. You are at liberty to make what use you think proper of +this letter. + +I have it in command from my Lord ---- to add, that if your health, or +any other circumstances, should render this embassy to Russia less +desirable to you than it appeared some time ago, other arrangements can +be made, and another friend of Government is ready to supply your place. + + I am, my dear sir, + Yours, &c. + + * * * * * + + _To F. L----, Esq., &c._ + + + + + Letter cxiv. + + _From Lady Leonora L---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Yarmouth. + +Joy, dearest mother! Come and share your daughter's happiness! + + _Continued by General B----._ + + * * * * * + +Lady Olivia, thus unmasked by her own hand, has fled to the Continent, +declaring that she will never more return to England. There she is +right--England is not a country fit for such women.--But I will never +waste another word or thought upon her. + +Mr L--- has given up the Russian embassy, and returns with Lady Leonora +to L---- Castle to-morrow. He has invited me to accompany them. Lady +Leonora is now the happiest of wives, and your grace the happiest of +mothers. + + I have the honour and the pleasure to be + Your grace's sincerely attached, + J. B. + + + + + Letter cxv. + + _The Duchess of ---- to Lady Leonora L----._ + + +My beloved daughter, pride and delight of your happy mother's heart, I +give you joy! Your temper, fortitude, and persevering affection, have +now their just reward. Enjoy your happiness, heightened as it must be by +the sense of self-approbation, and the sympathy of all who know you. And +now let me indulge the vanity of a mother; let me exult in the +accomplishment of my prophecies, and let me be listened to with due +humility, when I prophesy again. With as much certainty as I foretold +what is now present, I foresee, my child, your future destiny, and I +predict that you will preserve while you live your husband's fondest +affections. Your prudence will prevent you from indulging too far your +taste for retirement, or for the exclusive society of your intimate +friends. Spend your winters in London: your rank, your fortune, and I +may be permitted to add, your character, manners, and abilities, give +you the power of drawing round you persons of the best information and +of the highest talents. Your husband will find, in such society, +everything that can attach him to his home; and in you his most rational +friend and his most charming companion, who will excite him to every +generous and noble exertion. + +For the good and wise there is in love a power unknown to the ignorant +and the vicious, a power of communicating fresh energy to all the +faculties of the soul, of exalting them to the highest state of +perfection. The friendship which in later life succeeds to such love is +perhaps the greatest, and certainly the most permanent blessing of life. + +An admirable German writer--you see, my dear, that I have no prejudices +against good German writers--an admirable German writer says, that "Love +is like the morning shadows, which diminish as the day advances; but +friendship is like the shadows of the evening, which increase even till +the setting of the sun." + + + THE END. + + + =Transcriber's Notes:= + hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in the original + Page 61, out of doubt, Admire ==> out of doubt. Admire + Page 88, the eclat of public ==> the éclat of public + Page 124, grave and inpenetrable ==> grave and impenetrable + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Leonora, by Maria Edgeworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEONORA *** + +***** This file should be named 35638-8.txt or 35638-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/6/3/35638/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Leonora + +Author: Maria Edgeworth + +Release Date: March 20, 2011 [EBook #35638] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEONORA *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br /><br /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="364" height="476" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h4>—It was long past midnight,—she had a heap of M<sup>r.</sup> +L——'s old letters beside her. She denied that she was in tears.</h4> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 331px;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="331" height="526" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 456px;"> +<img src="images/notepage.jpg" width="456" height="110" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>NOTE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">L</span>eonora, though not published until 1806, was commenced three years +before that date: the circumstances under which it was written were to a +certain extent unique in Maria Edgeworth's life; for we are told that +throughout the time occupied in writing the story, she had in mind the +offer of marriage made to her by Monsieur Edelcrantz, a Swedish +gentleman of good position, "of superior understanding and mild +manners," as she told her aunt in a letter partly written before the +proposal and finished afterwards. This seems, from the biographies, to +have been the only time this truly good and sensible woman was ever +sought in marriage by any man; and it shows some of the good qualities +she possessed, that though she refused him, yet from the respect she +bore him and the esteem in which she held him, this story was written to +a large extent with a view to his approbation, though we are told that +she never knew whether or no he had read it.</p> + +<p>On the next page is appended a list of the principal editions of this +volume.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Leonora</span>, by Maria Edgeworth, 2 vols., London, 1806.</p> +<p style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.5in">—— Another edition, with <i>Letters on Several Subjects</i>, and +<i>An Essay on Self-Justification</i> (forming Vol. IV. of <i>Tales +and Miscellaneous Pieces</i>, by Maria Edgeworth, 14 vols.), London, +1825.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.5in">—— Another edition (Vol. XIII. of <i>Novels and Tales</i> of Maria +Edgeworth, 18 vols.), London, 1832-33.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.5in">Many reprints from the stereotype plates of this edition have been +issued in various forms and with varying arrangement of the stories.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.5in">Translated into French in 1807, and another edition in 1812.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">F. J. S.</p> + + +<br /><br /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 185px;"> +<img src="images/triangle.jpg" width="185" height="48" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 456px;"> +<img src="images/leonorapage.jpg" width="456" height="105" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<br /> +<h1>LEONORA.</h1> + +<br /> +<h2>Letter i.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lady Olivia to Lady Leonora L——.</i></h3> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>hat a misfortune it is to be born a woman! In vain, dear Leonora, would +you reconcile me to my doom. Condemned to incessant hypocrisy, or +everlasting misery, woman is the slave or the outcast of society. +Confidence in our fellow-creatures, or in ourselves, alike forbidden us, +to what purpose have we understandings, which we may not use? hearts, +which we may not trust? To our unhappy sex genius and sensibility are +the most treacherous gifts of Heaven. Why should we cultivate talents +merely to gratify the caprice of tyrants? Why seek for knowledge, which +can prove only that our wretchedness is irremediable? If a ray of light +break in upon us, it is but to make darkness more visible; to show us +the narrow limits, the Gothic structure, the impenetrable barriers of +our prison. Forgive me if on this subject I cannot speak—if I cannot +think—with patience. Is it not fabled, that the gods, to punish some +refractory mortal of the male kind, doomed his soul to inhabit upon +earth a female form? A punishment more degrading, or more difficult to +endure, could scarcely be devised by cruelty omnipotent. What dangers, +what sorrows, what persecutions, what nameless evils awaits the woman +who dares to rise above the prejudices of her sex!</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>who, without a struggle, submit their reason to be swathed by all the +absurd bandages of custom. What, though they cripple or distort their +minds; are not these deformities beauties in the eyes of fashion? and +are not these people the favoured nurslings of the <i>World</i>, secure of +her smiles, her caresses, her fostering praise, her partial protection, +through all the dangers of youth and all the dotage of age?</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>who learn to speak, and think, and act by rote; who have a phrase, or a +maxim, or a formula ready for every occasion; who follow—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All the nurse and all the priest have taught."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>And is it possible that Olivia can envy these <i>tideless-blooded</i> souls +their happiness—their apathy? Is her high spirit so broken by +adversity? Not such the promise of her early years, not such the +language of her unsophisticated heart! Alas! I scarcely know, I scarcely +recollect, that proud self, which was wont to defy the voice of opinion, +and to set at nought the decrees of prejudice. The events of my life +shall be related, or rather the history of my sensations; for in a life +like mine sensations become events—a metamorphosis which you will see +in every page of my history. I feel an irresistible impulse to open my +whole heart to you, my dear Leonora. I ought to be awed by the +superiority of your understanding and of your character; yet there is +an indulgence in your nature, a softness in your temper, that dissipates +fear, and irresistibly attracts confidence.</p> + +<p>You have generously refused to be prejudiced against me by busy, +malignant rumour; you have resolved to judge of me for yourself. +Nothing, then, shall be concealed. In such circumstances I cannot seek +to extenuate any of my faults or follies. I am ready to acknowledge them +all with self-humiliation more poignant than the sarcasms of my +bitterest enemies. But I must pause till I have summoned courage for my +confession. Dear Leonora, adieu!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter ij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Leonora.</i></h3> + + +<p>Full of life and spirits, with a heart formed for all the enthusiasm, +for all the delicacy of love, I married early, in the fond expectation +of meeting a heart suited to my own. Cruelly disappointed, I +found—merely a husband. My heart recoiled upon itself; true to my own +principles of virtue, I scorned dissimulation. I candidly confessed to +my husband, that my love was extinguished. I proved to him, alas! too +clearly, that we were not born for each other. The attractive moment of +illusion was past—never more to return; the repulsive reality remained. +The living was chained to the dead, and, by the inexorable tyranny of +English laws, that chain, eternally galling to innocence, can be severed +only by the desperation of vice. Divorce, according to our barbarous +institutions, cannot be obtained without guilt. Appalled at the thought, +I saw no hope but in submission. Yet to submit to live with the man I +could not love was, to a mind like mine, impossible. My principles and +my feelings equally revolted from this legal prostitution. We separated. +I sought for balm to my wounded heart in foreign climes.</p> + +<p>To the beauties of nature I was ever feelingly alive. Amidst the sublime +scenes of Switzerland, and on the consecrated borders of her classic +lakes, I sometimes forgot myself to happiness. Felicity, how +transient!—transient as the day-dreams that played upon my fancy in the +bright morning of love. Alas! not all creation's charms could soothe me +to repose. I wandered in search of that which change of place cannot +afford. There was an aching void in my heart—an indescribable sadness +over my spirits. Sometimes I had recourse to books; but how few were in +unison with my feelings, or touched the trembling chords of my +disordered mind! Commonplace morality I could not endure. History +presented nothing but a mass of crimes. Metaphysics promised some +relief, and I bewildered myself in their not inelegant labyrinth. But to +the bold genius and exquisite pathos of some German novelists I hold +myself indebted for my largest portion of ideal bliss; for those rapt +moments, when sympathy with kindred souls transported me into better +worlds, and consigned vulgar realities to oblivion.</p> + +<p>I am well aware, my Leonora, that you approve not of these my favourite +writers: but yours is the morality of one who has never known sorrow. I +also would interdict such cordials to the happy. But would you forbid +those to taste felicity in dreams who feel only misery when awake? Would +you dash the cup of Lethe from lips to which no other beverage is +salubrious or sweet?</p> + +<p>By the use of these opiates my soul gradually settled into a sort of +pleasing pensive melancholy. Has it not been said, that melancholy is a +characteristic of genius? I make no pretensions to genius: but I am +persuaded that melancholy is the habitual, perhaps the natural state of +those who have the misfortune to feel with delicacy.</p> + +<p>You, my dear Leonora, will class this notion amongst what you once +called my refined errors. Indeed I must confess, that I see in you an +exception so striking as almost to compel me to relinquish my theory. +But again let me remind you, that your lot in life has been different +from mine. Alas! how different! Why had not I such a friend, such a +mother as yours, early to direct my uncertain steps, and to educate me +to happiness? I might have been——. But no matter what I might have +been——. I must tell you what I have been.</p> + +<p>Separated from my husband, without a guide, without a friend at the most +perilous period of my life, I was left to that most insidious of +counsellors—my own heart—my own weak heart. When I was least prepared +to resist the impression, it was my misfortune to meet with a man of a +soul congenial to my own. Before I felt my danger, I was entangled +beyond the possibility of escape. The net was thrown over my heart; its +struggles were to no purpose but to exhaust my strength. Virtue +commanded me to be miserable—and I was miserable. But do I dare to +expect your pity, Leonora, for such an attachment? It excites your +indignation, perhaps your horror. Blame, despise, detest me; all this +would I rather bear than deceive you into fancying me better than I +really am.</p> + +<p>Do not, however, think me worse. If my views had been less pure, if I +had felt less reliance on the firmness of my own principles, and less +repugnance to artifice, I might easily have avoided some appearances, +which have injured me in the eyes of the world. With real contrition I +confess, that a fatal mixture of masculine independence of spirit, and +of female tenderness of heart, has betrayed me into many imprudences; +but of vice, and of that meanest species of vice, hypocrisy, I thank +Heaven, my conscience can acquit me. All I have now to hope is, that +you, my indulgent, my generous Leonora, will not utterly condemn me. +Truth and gratitude are my only claims to your friendship—to a +friendship, which would be to me the first of earthly blessings, which +might make me amends for all I have lost. Consider this before, unworthy +as I am, you reject me from your esteem. Counsel, guide, save me! +Without vanity, but with confidence I say it, I have a heart that will +repay you for affection. You will find me easily moved, easily governed +by kindness. Yours has already sunk deep into my soul, and your power is +unlimited over the affections and over the understanding of</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your obliged</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter iij.</h2> + +<h3><i>From Lady Leonora L—— to her mother, the Duchess of ——, +enclosing the preceding letters.</i></h3> + + +<p>I am permitted to send you, my dear mother, the enclosed letters. Mixed +with what you may not approve, you will, I think, find in them proofs of +an affectionate heart and superior abilities. Lady Olivia is just +returned to England. Scandal, imported from the continent, has had such +an effect in prejudicing many of her former friends and acquaintance +against her, that she is in danger of being excluded from that society +of which she was once the ornament and the favourite; but I am +determined to support her cause, and to do everything in my power to +counteract the effects of malignity. I cannot sufficiently express the +indignation that I feel against the mischievous spirit of scandal, +which destroys happiness at every breath, and which delights in the +meanest of all malignant feelings—the triumph over the errors of +superior characters. Olivia has been much blamed, because she has been +much envied.</p> + +<p>Indeed, my dear mother, you have been prejudiced against her by false +reports. Do not imagine that her fascinating manners have blinded my +judgment: I assure you that I have discerned, or rather that she has +revealed to me, all her faults: and ought not this candour to make a +strong impression upon my mind in her favour? Consider how young, how +beautiful she was at her first entrance into fashionable life; how much +exposed to temptation, surrounded by flatterers, and without a single +friend. I am persuaded that she would have escaped all censure, and +would have avoided all the errors with which she now reproaches herself, +if she had been blessed with a mother such as mine.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora</span> L——</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter iv.</h2> + +<h3><i>The Duchess of —— to her daughter.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dearest Child</span>,</p></div> + +<p>I must answer your last before I sleep—before I can sleep in peace. I +have just finished reading the rhapsody which it enclosed; and whilst my +mind is full and warm upon the subject, let me write, for I can write to +my own satisfaction at no other time. I admire and love you, my child, +for the generous indignation you express against those who trample upon +the fallen, or who meanly triumph over the errors of superior genius; +and if I seem more cold, or more severe, than you wish me to be, +attribute this to my anxiety for your happiness, and to that caution +which is perhaps the infirmity of age.</p> + +<p>In the course of my long life I have, alas! seen vice and folly dressed +in so many different fashions, that I can find no difficulty in +detecting them under any disguise; but your unpractised eyes are almost +as easily deceived as when you were five years old, and when you could +not believe that your pasteboard nun was the same person in her various +changes of attire.</p> + +<p>Nothing would tempt you to associate with those who have avowed +themselves regardless of right and wrong; but I must warn you against +another, and a far more dangerous class, who, professing the most +refined delicacy of sentiment, and boasting of invulnerable virtue, +exhibit themselves in the most improper and hazardous situations; and +who, because they are without fear, expect to be deemed free from +reproach. Either from miraculous good fortune, or from a singularity of +temper, these adventurous heroines may possibly escape with what they +call perfect innocence. So much the worse for society. Their example +tempts others, who fall a sacrifice to their weakness and folly. I would +punish the tempters in this case more than the victims, and for them the +most effectual species of punishment is contempt. Neglect is death to +these female lovers of notoriety. The moment they are out of fashion +their power to work mischief ceases. Those who from their character and +rank have influence over public opinion are bound to consider these +things in the choice of their associates. This is peculiarly necessary +in days when attempts are made to level all distinctions. You have +sometimes hinted to me, my dear daughter, with all proper delicacy, that +I am too strict in my notions, and that, unknown to myself, my pride +mixes with morality. Be it so: the pride of family, and the pride of +virtue, should reciprocally support each other. Were I asked what I +think the best guard to a nobility in this or in any other country, I +should answer, <span class="smcap">VIRTUE</span>. I admire that simple epitaph in Westminster Abbey +on the Duchess of Newcastle:—"Her name was Margaret Lucas, youngest +sister to the Lord Lucas of Colchester;—a noble family, for all the +brothers were valiant and all the sisters virtuous."</p> + +<p>I look to the temper of the times in forming rules for conduct. Of late +years we have seen wonderful changes in female manners. I may be like +the old marquis in Gil Blas, who contended that even the peaches of +modern days had deteriorated; but I fear that my complaints of the +degeneracy of human kind are better founded than his fears for the +vegetable creation. A taste for the elegant profligacy of French +gallantry was, I remember, introduced into this country before the +destruction of the French monarchy. Since that time, some sentimental +writers and pretended philosophers of our own and foreign countries have +endeavoured to confound all our ideas of morality. To every rule of +right they have found exceptions, and on these they have fixed the +public attention by adorning them with all the splendid decorations of +eloquence; so that the rule is despised or forgotten, and the exception +triumphantly established in its stead. These orators seem as if they had +been employed by Satan to plead the cause of vice; and, as if possessed +by the evil spirit, they speak with a vehemence which carries away their +auditors, or with a subtlety which deludes their better judgment. They +put extreme cases, in which virtue may become vice, or vice virtue: they +exhibit criminal passions in constant connexion with the most exalted, +the most amiable virtues; thus making use of the best feelings of human +nature for the worst purposes, they engage pity or admiration +perpetually on the side of guilt. Eternally talking of philosophy and +philanthropy, they borrow the terms only to perplex the ignorant and +seduce the imagination. They have their systems and their theories, and +in theory they pretend that the general good of society is their sole +immutable rule of morality, and in practice they make the variable +feelings of each individual the judges of this general good. Their +systems disdain all the vulgar virtues, intent upon some <i>beau ideal</i> of +perfection or perfectibility. They set common sense and common honesty +at defiance. No matter: their doctrine, so convenient to the passions +and soporific to the conscience, can never want partisans; especially by +weak and enthusiastic women it is adopted and propagated with eagerness; +then they become personages of importance, and zealots in support of +their sublime opinions; and they can read—and they can write—and they +can talk—and they can <i>effect a revolution in public opinion</i>! I am +afraid, indeed, that they can; for of late years we have heard more of +sentiment than of principles; more of the rights of woman than of her +duties. We have seen talents disgraced by the conduct of their +possessors, and perverted in the vain attempt to defend what is +unjustifiable.</p> + +<p>Where must all this end? Where the abuse of reason inevitably ends—in +the ultimate law of force. If in this age of reason women make a bad use +of that power which they have obtained by the cultivation of their +understanding, they will degrade and enslave themselves beyond +redemption; they will reduce their sex to a situation worse than it ever +experienced even in the ages of ignorance and superstition. If men find +that the virtue of women diminishes in proportion as intellectual +cultivation increases, they will connect, fatally for the freedom and +happiness of our sex, the ideas of female ignorance and female +innocence; they will decide that one is the effect of the other. They +will not pause to distinguish between the use and the abuse of reason; +they will not stand by to see further experiments tried at their +expense, but they will prohibit knowledge altogether as a pernicious +commodity, and will exert the superior power which nature and society +place in their hands, to enforce their decrees. Opinion obtained freedom +for women; by opinion they may be again enslaved. It is therefore the +interest of the female world, and of society, that women should be +deterred by the dread of shame from passing the bounds of discretion. No +false lenity, no partiality in favour of amusing talents or agreeable +manners, should admit of exceptions which become dangerous examples of +impunity. The rank and superior understanding of a <i>delinquent</i> ought +not to be considered in mitigation, but as aggravating circumstances. +Rank makes ill conduct more conspicuous: talents make it more dangerous. +Women of abilities, if they err, usually employ all their powers to +justify rather than to amend their faults.</p> + +<p>I am afraid, my dear daughter, that my general arguments are closing +round your Olivia; but I must bid you a good night, for my poor eyes +will serve me no longer. God bless you, my dear child.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter v.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p>I agree with you, my dear mother, that in these times especially, it is +incumbent upon all persons, whose rank or reputation may influence +public opinion, to be particularly careful to support the cause of +female honour, of virtue, and religion. With the same object in view, we +may however differ in the choice of means for its attainment. Pleasure +as well as pain acts upon human creatures; and therefore, in governing +them, may not reward be full as efficacious as punishment? Our sex are +sufficiently apprised of the fatal consequences of ill conduct; the +advantages of well-earned reputation should be at least as great, as +certain, and as permanent.</p> + +<p>In former times, a single finger pointed at the scutcheon of a knight +challenged him to defend his fame; but the defiance was open, the +defence was public; and if the charge proved groundless, it injured none +but the malicious accuser. In our days female reputation, which is of a +nature more delicate than the honour of any knight, may be destroyed by +the finger of private malice. The whisper of secret scandal, which +admits of no fair or public answer, is too often sufficient to dishonour +a life of spotless fame. This is the height, not only of injustice, but +of impolicy. Women will become indifferent to reputation, which it is so +difficult, even by the prudence of years, to acquire, and which it is so +easy to lose in a moment, by the malice or thoughtlessness of those who +invent or who repeat scandal. Those who call themselves the world often +judge without listening to evidence, and proceed upon suspicion with as +much promptitude and severity as if they had the most convincing proofs. +But because Cæsar, nearly two thousand years ago, said, that his wife +ought not even to be suspected, and divorced her upon the strength of +this sentiment, shall we make it a general maxim, that suspicion +justifies punishment? We might as well applaud those, who when their +friends are barely suspected to be tainted with the plague, drive them +from all human comfort and assistance.</p> + +<p>Even where women, from the thoughtless gaiety of youth, or the impulse +of inexperienced enthusiasm, may have given some slight cause for +censure, I would not have virtue put on all her gorgon terrors, nor +appear circled by the vengeful band of prudes; her chastening hand will +be more beneficially felt if she wear her more benign form. To place the +imprudent in the same class with the vicious is injustice and impolicy; +were the same punishment and the same disgrace to be affixed to small +and to great offences, the number of <i>capital</i> offenders would certainly +increase. Those who were disposed to yield to their passions would, when +they had once failed in exact decorum, see no motive, no fear to +restrain them; and there would be no pause, no interval between error +and profligacy. Amongst females who have been imprudent, there are many +things to be considered which ought to recommend them to mercy. The +judge, when he is obliged to pronounce the immutable sentence of the +law, often, with tears, wishes that it were in his power to mitigate the +punishment: the decisions of opinion may and must vary with +circumstances, else the degree of reprobation which they inflict cannot +be proportioned to the offence, or calculated for the good of society. +Among the mitigating circumstances I should be inclined to name even +those which you bring in aggravation. Talents, and what is called +genius, in our sex are often connected with a warmth of heart, an +enthusiasm of temper, which expose to dangers from which the coldness of +mediocrity is safe. In the illuminated palace of ice, the lights which +render the spectacle splendid, and which raise the admiration of the +beholders, endanger the fabric and tend to its destruction.</p> + +<p>But you will tell me, dear mother, that allusion is not argument—and I +am almost afraid to proceed, lest you should think me an advocate for +vice. I would not shut the gates of mercy, inexorably and +indiscriminately, upon all those of my own sex, who have even been <i>more +than imprudent</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He taught them shame, the sudden sense of ill—</span> +<span class="i0"> Shame, Nature's hasty conscience, which forbids</span> +<span class="i0"> Weak inclination ere it grows to will,</span> +<span class="i0"> Or stays rash will before it grows to deeds."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>Whilst a woman is alive to shame, she cannot be dead to virtue. But by +injudicious or incessant reproach, this principle, even where it is most +exquisite, may be most easily destroyed. The mimosa, when too long +exposed to each rude touch, loses its retractile sensibility. It ought +surely to be the care of the wise and benevolent to cherish that +principle, implanted in our nature as the guard of virtue, that +principle upon which legislators rest the force of punishment, and all +the grand interests of society.</p> + +<p>My dear mother, perhaps you will be surprised at the style in which I +have been writing, and you will smile at hearing your Leonora discuss +the duties of legislators, and the grand interests of society. She has +not done so from presumption, or from affectation. She was alarmed by +your supposing that her judgment was deluded by fascinating manners, and +she determined to produce <i>general</i> arguments, to convince you that she +is not actuated by particular prepossession. You see that I have at +least some show of reason on my side. I have forborne to mention +Olivia's name: but now that I have obviated, I hope by reasoning, the +imputation of partiality, I may observe that all my arguments are +strongly in her favour. She had been attacked by slander; <i>the world</i> +has condemned her upon suspicion merely. She has been imprudent; but I +repeat, in the strongest terms, that I am <i>convinced of her innocence</i>; +and that I should bitterly regret that a woman with such an affectionate +heart, such uncommon candour, and such superior abilities, should be +lost to society.</p> + +<p>Tell me, my dear mother, that you are no longer in anxiety about the +consequences of my attachment to Olivia.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your affectionate daughter,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter vi.</h2> + +<h3><i>The Duchess of —— to her daughter.</i></h3> + + +<p>You lament, my dear child, that such an affectionate heart, such great +abilities as Olivia's should be lost to society. Before I sympathise in +your pity, my judgment must be convinced that it is reasonable.</p> + +<p>What proofs has Lady Olivia given of her affectionate heart? She is at +variance with both her parents; she is separated from her husband; and +she leaves her child in a foreign country, to be educated by strangers. +Am I to understand, that her ladyship's neglecting to perform the duties +of a daughter, a wife, and a mother, are proofs of an affectionate +heart? As to her superior talents, do they contribute to her own +happiness, or to the happiness of others? Evidently not to her own; for +by her account of herself, she is one of the most miserable wretches +alive! She tells you that "<i>she went to foreign climes in search of balm +for a wounded heart, and wandered from place to place, looking for what +no place could afford</i>." She talks of "<i>indescribable sadness—an aching +void—an impenetrable prison—darkness visible—dead bodies chained to +living ones</i>;" and she exhibits all the disordered furniture of a +"diseased mind." But you say, that though her powers are thus +insufficient to make herself happy, they may amuse or instruct the +world; and of this I am to judge by the letters which you have sent me. +You admire fine writing; so do I. I class eloquence high amongst the +fine arts. But by eloquence I mean something more than Dr Johnson +defines it to be, "the art of speaking with fluency and elegance." This +is an art which is now possessed to a certain degree by every +boarding-school miss. Every scribbling young lady can now string +sentences and sentiments together, and can turn a period harmoniously. +Upon the strength of these accomplishments they commence heroines, and +claim the privileges of the order; privileges which go to an indefinite +and most alarming extent. Every heroine may have her own code of +morality for her private use, and she is to be tried by no other; she +may rail as loudly as she pleases "at the barbarous institutions of +society," and may deplore "<i>the inexorable tyranny of the English +laws</i>." If she find herself involved in delicate entanglements of +crossing duties, she may break through any one, or all of them, to +extricate herself with a noble contempt of prejudice.</p> + +<p>I have promised to reason calmly; but I cannot repress the terror which +I feel at the idea of my daughter's becoming the friend of one of these +women. Olivia's letters are, I think, in the true heroine style; and +they might make a brilliant figure in a certain class of novels. She +begins with a bold exclamation on "the misfortune of being born a +woman!—<i>the slave or the outcast of society, condemned to incessant +hypocrisy!</i>" Does she mean modesty? Her manly soul feels it "<i>the most +degrading punishment that omnipotent cruelty could devise, to be +imprisoned in a female form</i>." From such a masculine spirit some +fortitude and magnanimity might be expected; but presently she begs to +be pitied, for a broken spirit, and more than female tenderness of +heart. I have observed that the ladies who wish to be men are usually +those who have not sufficient strength of mind to be women.</p> + +<p>Olivia proceeds in an ironical strain to envy, as "<i>the happiest of +their sex, those who submit to be swathed by custom</i>." These persons she +stigmatizes with the epithet of <i>tideless-blooded</i>. It is the common +trick of unprincipled women to affect to despise those who conduct +themselves with propriety. Prudence they term <i>coldness</i>; fortitude, +<i>insensibility</i>; and regard to the rights of others, <i>prejudice</i>. By +this perversion of terms they would laugh or sneer virtue out of +countenance; and, by robbing her of all praise, they would deprive her +of all immediate motive. Conscious of their own degradation, they would +lower everything, and everybody, to their own standard: they would make +you believe, that those who have not yielded to their passions are +destitute of sensibility; that the love which is not blazoned forth in +glaring colours is not entitled to our sympathy. The sacrifice of the +strongest feelings of the human heart to a sense of duty is to be called +mean, or absurd; but the shameless phrensy of passion, exposing itself +to public gaze, is to be an object of admiration. These heroines talk of +strength of mind; but they forget that strength of mind is to be shown +in resisting their passions, not in yielding to them. Without being +absolutely of an opinion, which I have heard maintained, that all virtue +is sacrifice, I am convinced that the essential characteristic of virtue +is to bear and forbear. These sentimentalists can do neither. They talk +of sacrifices and generosity; but they are the veriest egotists—the +most selfish creatures alive.</p> + +<p>Open your eyes, my dear Leonora, and see things as they really are. Lady +Olivia thinks it a sufficient excuse for abandoning her husband, to say, +that she found "<i>his soul was not in unison with hers</i>." She thinks it +an adequate apology for a criminal attachment, to tell you that "<i>the +net was thrown over her heart before she felt her danger: that all its +struggles were to no purpose, but to exhaust her strength</i>."</p> + +<p>If she did not feel her danger, she prepared it. The course of reading +which her ladyship followed was the certain preparation for her +consequent conduct. She tells us that she could not endure "<i>the +commonplace of morality, but metaphysics promised her some relief</i>." In +these days a heroine need not be a moralist, but she must be a +metaphysician. She must "<i>wander in the not inelegant labyrinth</i>;" and +if in the midst of it she comes unawares upon the monster vice, she must +not start, though she have no clue to secure her retreat.</p> + +<p>From metaphysics Lady Olivia went on to German novels. "<i>For her largest +portions of bliss, for those rapt moments which consigned vulgar +realities to oblivion</i>," she owns herself indebted to those writers, who +promise an ideal world of pleasure, which, like the <i>mirage</i> in the +desert, bewilders the feverish imagination. I always suspected the +imagination of these <i>women of feeling</i> to be more susceptible than +their hearts. They want excitation for their morbid sensibility, and +they care not at what expense it is procured. If they could make all the +pleasures of life into one cordial they would swallow it at a draught in +a fit of sentimental spleen. The mental intemperance that they indulge +in promiscuous novel-reading destroys all vigour and clearness of +judgment; everything dances in the varying medium of their imagination. +Sophistry passes for reasoning; nothing appears profound but what is +obscure; nothing sublime but what is beyond the reach of mortal +comprehension. To their vitiated taste the simple pathos, which +o'ersteps not the modesty of nature, appears cold, tame, and insipid; +they must have <i>scènes</i> and a <i>coup de théâtre</i>; and ranting, and +raving, and stabbing, and drowning, and poisoning; for with them there +is no love without murder. Love, in their representations, is indeed a +distorted, ridiculous, horrid monster, from whom common sense, taste, +decency, and nature recoil.</p> + +<p>But I will be calm.—You say, my dear Leonora, that your judgment has +not been blinded by Lady Olivia's fascinating manners; but that you are +strongly influenced in her favour by that candour, with which she has +revealed to you all her faults. The value of candour in individuals +should be measured by their sensibility to shame. When a woman throws +off all restraint, and then desires me to admire her candour, I am +astonished only at her assurance. Do not be the dupe of such candour. +Lady Olivia avows a criminal passion, yet you say that you have no +doubts of her innocence. The persuasion of your unsuspecting heart is no +argument: when you give me any proofs in her favour, I shall pay them +all due attention. In the meantime I have given you my opinion of those +ladies who place themselves in the most perilous situations, and then +expect you to believe them safe.</p> + +<p>Olivia's professions of regard for you are indeed enthusiastic. She +tells you, that "<i>your power is unlimited over her heart and +understanding, that your friendship would be to her one of the greatest +of earthly blessings</i>." May be so—but I cannot wish you to be her +friend. With whatever confidence she makes the assertion, do not believe +that she has a heart capable of feeling the value of yours. These +sentimental, unprincipled women make the worst friends in the world. We +are often told that, "poor creatures! they do nobody any harm but +themselves;" but in society it is scarcely possible for a woman to do +harm to herself without doing harm to others; all her connexions must +be involved in the consequences of her imprudence. Besides, what +confidence can you repose in them? If you should happen to be an +obstacle in the way of any of their fancies, do you think that they will +respect you or your interest, when they have not scrupled to sacrifice +their own to the gratification of their passions? Do you think that the +gossamer of sentiment will restrain those whom the strong chains of +prudence could not hold?</p> + +<p>O! my dearest child, forcibly as these arguments carry conviction to my +mind, I dread lest your compassionate, generous temper should prevent +their reaching your understanding. Then let me conjure you, by all the +respect which you have ever shown for your mother's opinions, by all +that you hold dear or sacred, beware of forming an intimacy with an +unprincipled woman. Believe me to be</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your truly affectionate mother,</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter vij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p>No daughter ever felt more respect for the opinions of a parent than I +do for yours, my dearest mother; but you have never, even from +childhood, required from me a blind submission—you have always +encouraged me to desire conviction. And now, when the happiness of +another is at stake, you will forgive me if I am less disposed to yield +than I should be, I hope, if my own interest or taste were alone +concerned.</p> + +<p>You ask me what proofs I have of Lady Olivia's innocence. Believe me, I +have such as are convincing to my unbiassed judgment, and such as would +be sufficient to satisfy all your doubts, were I at liberty to lay the +whole truth before you. But even to exculpate herself, Olivia will not +ruin in your opinion her husband, of whom you imagine that she has no +reason to complain. I, who know how anxious she is to obtain your +esteem, can appreciate the sacrifice that she makes; and in this +instance, as in many others, I admire her magnanimity; it is equal to +her candour, for which she is entitled to praise even by your own +principles, dear mother: since, far from having <i>thrown off all +restraint</i>, she is exquisitely susceptible of shame.</p> + +<p>As to her understanding—have no persons of great talents ever been +unfortunate? Frequently we see that they have not been able, by all +their efforts and all their powers, to remedy the defects in the +characters and tempers of those with whom they have unhappily been +connected. Olivia married very young, and was unfortunately mistaken in +her choice of a husband: on that subject I can only deplore her error +and its consequences: but as to her disagreements with her own family, I +do not think her to blame. For the mistakes we make in the choice of +lovers or friends we may be answerable, but we cannot be responsible for +the faults of the relations who are given to us by nature. If we do not +please them, it may be our misfortune; it is not necessarily our fault. +I cannot be more explicit, without betraying Lady Olivia's confidence, +and implicating others in defending her.</p> + +<p>With respect to that attachment of which you speak with so much just +severity, she has given me the strongest assurances that she will do +everything in her power to conquer it. Absence, you know, is the first +and the most difficult step, and this she has taken. Her course of +reading displeases you: I cannot defend it: but I am persuaded that it +is not a proof of her taste being vitiated. Many people read ordinary +novels as others take snuff, merely from habit, from the want of petty +excitation; and not, as you suppose, from the want of exorbitant or +improper stimulus. Those who are unhappy have recourse to any trifling +amusement that can change the course of their thoughts. I do not justify +Olivia for having chosen such <i>comforters</i> as certain novels, but I pity +her and impute this choice to want of fortitude, not to depravity of +taste. Before she married, a strict injunction was laid upon her not to +read any book that was called a novel: this raised in her mind a sort of +perverse curiosity. By making any books or opinions contraband, the +desire to read and circulate them is increased; bad principles are +consequently smuggled into families, and being kept secret, can never be +subject to fair examination. I think it must be advantageous to the +right side of any question, that all which can be said against it should +be openly heard, that it may be answered. I do not</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hate when vice can bolt her arguments;"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>for I know that virtue has a tongue to answer her. The more vice repeats +her assertions, the better; because when familiarized, their boldness +will not astound the understanding, and the charm of novelty will not be +mistaken for the power of truth. We may observe, that the admiration for +the class of writers to whom you allude, though violent in its +commencement, has abated since they have been more known; and numbers, +who began with rapture, have ended with disgust. Person of vivacious +imaginations, like Olivia, may be caught at first view by whatever has +the appearance of grandeur or sublimity; but if time be allowed for +examination, they will infallibly detect the disproportions, and these +will ever afterwards shock their taste: if you will not allow leisure +for comparison—if you say, do not look at such strange objects, the +obedient eyes may turn aside, but the rebel imagination pictures +something a thousand times more wonderful and charming than the reality. +I will venture to predict, that Olivia will soon be tired of the species +of novels which she now admires, and that, once surfeited with these +books, and convinced of their pernicious effects, she will never relapse +into the practice of novel reading.</p> + +<p>As to her taste for metaphysical books——Dear mother, I am very daring +to differ with you in so many points; but permit me to say, that I do +not agree with you in detesting metaphysics. People may lose themselves +in that labyrinth; but why should they meet with vice in the midst of +it? The characters of a moralist, a practical moralist, and a +metaphysician, are not incompatible, as we may see in many amiable and +illustrious examples. To examine human motives, and the nature of the +human mind, is not to destroy the power of virtue, or to increase the +influence of vice. The chemist, after analysing certain substances, and +after discovering their constituent parts, can lay aside all that is +heterogeneous, and recompound the substance in a purer state. From +analogy we might infer, that the motives of metaphysicians ought to be +purer than those of the vulgar and ignorant. To discover the art of +converting base into noble passions, or to obtain a universal remedy for +all mental diseases, is perhaps beyond the power of metaphysicians; but +in the pursuit useful discoveries may be made.</p> + +<p>As to Olivia's letters—I am sorry I sent them to you; for I see that +they have lowered, instead of raising her in your opinion. But if you +criticise letters, written in openness and confidence of heart to a +private friend, as if they were set before the tribunal of the public, +you are—may I say it?—not only severe, but unjust; for you try and +condemn the subjects of one country by the laws of another.</p> + +<p>Dearest mother, be half as indulgent to Olivia as you are to me: indeed +you are prejudiced against her, and because you see some faults, you +think her whole character vicious. But would you cut down a fine tree +because a leaf is withered, or because the canker-worm has eaten into +the bud? Even if a main branch were decayed, are there not remedies +which, skilfully applied, can save the tree from destruction, and +perhaps restore it to its pristine beauty?</p> + +<p>And now, having exhausted all my allusions, all my arguments, and all my +little stock of eloquence, I must come to a plain matter of fact—</p> + +<p>Before I received your letter I had invited Lady Olivia to spend some +time at L—— Castle. I fear that you will blame my precipitation, and I +reproach myself for it, because I know it will give you pain. However, +though you will think me imprudent, I am certain you would rather that I +were imprudent than unjust. I have defended Olivia from what I believe +to be unmerited censure; I have invited her to my house; she has +accepted my proffered kindness; to withdraw it afterwards would be doing +her irreparable injury: it would confirm all that the world can suspect: +it would be saying to the censorious—I am convinced that you are right, +and I deliver your victim up to you.</p> + +<p>Thus I should betray the person whom I undertook to defend: her +confidence in me, her having but for a moment accepted my protection, +would be her ruin. I could not act in so base a manner.</p> + +<p>Fear nothing for me, my best, but too anxious friend. I may do Lady +Olivia some good; she can do me no harm. She may learn the principles +which you have taught me; I can never catch from her any tastes or +habits which you would disapprove. As to the rest, I hazard little or +nothing. The hereditary credit which I enjoy in my maternal right +enables me to assist others without injuring myself.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your affectionate daughter,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter viij.</h2> + +<h3><i>The Duchess of —— to her daughter.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dearest Child,</span></p></div> + +<p>I hope that you are in the right, and that I am in the wrong.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your affectionate mother,</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter ix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>Prepare yourself, my ever dear and charming Gabrielle, for all the +torments of jealousy. Know, that since I came to England I have formed a +new friendship with a woman who is interesting in the extreme, who has +charmed me by the simplicity of her manners and the generous sensibility +of her heart. Her character is certainly too reserved: yet even this +defect has perhaps increased her power over my imagination, and +consequently over my affections. I know not by what magic she has +obtained it, but she has already an ascendency over me, which would +quite astonish <i>you</i>, who know my wayward fancies and independent +spirit.</p> + +<p>Alas! I confess my heart is weak indeed; and I fear that all the power +of friendship and philosophy combined will never strengthen it +sufficiently. O, Gabrielle! how can I hope to obliterate from my soul +that attachment which has marked the colour of my destiny for years? Yet +such courage, such cruel courage is required of me, and of such I have +boasted myself capable. Lady Leonora L——, my new friend, has, by all +the English eloquence of virtue, obtained from me a promise, which, I +fear, I shall not have the fortitude to keep—but I must make the +attempt——Forbid R*** to write to me——Yes! I have written the +words——Forbid R*** to write to me——Forbid him to think of me——I +will do more—if possible I will forbid myself henceforward to think of +him—to think of love—Adieu, my Gabrielle——All the illusions of life +are over, and a dreary blank of future existence lies before me, +terminated only by the grave. To-morrow I go to L—— Castle, with +feelings which I can compare only to those of the unfortunate la +Vallière when she renounced her lover, and resolved to bury herself in a +cloister.—Alas! why have not I the resource of devotion?</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your unhappy</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter x.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>Publish my travels!—Not I, my dear friend. The world shall never have +the pleasure of laughing at General B——'s trip to Paris. Before a man +sets about to inform others, he should have seen, not only the surface +but the bottom of things; he should have had, not only a <i>vue d'oiseau</i>, +but (to use a celebrated naval commander's expression) a <i>vue de +poisson</i> of his subject. By this time you must have heard enough of the +Louvre and the Tuilleries, and Versailles, and la petit Trianon, and St +Cloud—and you have had enough of pictures and statues; and you know all +that can be known of Bonaparté, by seeing him at a review or a levee; +and the fashionable beauties and <i>celebrated characters</i> of the hour +have all passed and repassed through the magic lantern. A fresh showman +might make his figures a little more correct, or a little more in +laughable caricature, but he could produce nothing new. Alas! there is +nothing new under the sun. Nothing remains for the moderns, but to +practise the oldest follies and newest ways. Would you, for the sake of +your female friends, know the fashionable dress of a Parisian +<i>elegante</i>, see Seneca on the transparent vestments of the Roman ladies, +who, like these modern belles, were generous in the display of their +charms to the public. No doubt these French republicanists act upon the +true Spartan principle of modesty: they take the most efficacious method +to prevent their influence from being too great over the imaginations of +men, by renouncing all that insidious reserve which alone can render +even beauty permanently dangerous.</p> + +<p>Of the cruelties of the revolution I can tell you nothing new. The +public have been steeped up to the lips in blood, and have surely had +their fill of horrors.</p> + +<p>But, my dear friend, you say that I must be able to give a just view of +the present state of French society, and of the best parts of it, +because I have not, like some of my countrymen, hurried about Paris from +one <i>spectacle</i> to another, seen the opera, and the play-houses, and the +masked balls, and the gaming-houses, and the women of the Palais Royale, +and the lions of all sorts; gone through the usual routine of +presentation and public dinners, drunk French wine, damned French +cookery, and "come home content." I have certainly endeavoured to employ +my time better, and have had the good fortune to be admitted into the +best <i>private societies</i> in Paris. These were composed of the remains of +the French nobility, of men of letters and science, and of families, +who, without interfering in politics, devote themselves to domestic +duties, to literary and social pleasures. The happy hours I have passed +in this society can never be forgotten, and the kindness I have received +has made its full impression upon an honest English heart. I will never +disgrace the confidence of my friends by drawing their characters for +the public.</p> + +<p>Cæsar, in all his glory, and all his despotism, could not, with +impunity, force a Roman knight<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> to go upon the stage: but modern +anecdote-mongers, more cruel and insolent than Cæsar, force their +friends of all ages and sexes to appear, and speak, and act, for the +amusement or derision of the public.</p> + +<p>My dear friend, is not my resolution, never to favour the world with my +tour, well grounded? I hope that I have proved to your satisfaction, +that I could tell people nothing but what I do not understand, or what +is not worth telling them, or what has been told them a hundred times, +or what, as a gentleman, I am bound not to publish.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>Friendship, my amiable and interesting Gabrielle, is more an affair of +the heart than of the head, more the instinct of taste than the choice +of reason. With me the heart is no longer touched, when the imagination +ceases to be charmed. Explain to me this metaphysical phenomenon of my +nature, and, for your reward, I will quiet your jealousy, by confessing +without compunction what now weighs on my conscience terribly. I begin +to feel that I can never love this English friend as I ought. She is +<i>too English</i>—far too English for one who has known the charms of +French ease, vivacity, and sentiment; for one who has seen the +bewitching Gabrielle's infinite variety.</p> + +<p>Leonora has just the figure and face that you would picture to yourself +for <i>une belle Angloise</i>; and if our Milton comes into your memory, you +might repeat, for the quotation is not too trite for a foreigner—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Grace is in all her steps, heaven in her eye,</span> +<span class="i0"> In every gesture dignity and love."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>But then it is grace which says nothing, a heaven only for a husband, +the dignity more of a matron than of a heroine, and love that might have +suited Eve before she had seen this world. Leonora is certainly a +beauty; but then a beauty who does not know her power, and who, +consequently, can make no one else feel its full extent. She is not +unlike your beautiful Polish princess, but she has none of the charming +Anastasia's irresistible transitions from soft, silent languor, to +brilliant, eloquent enthusiasm. All the gestures and attitudes of +Anastasia are those of taste and sentiment, Leonora's are simply those +of nature. <i>La belle nature</i>, but not <i>le beau idéal</i>. With a figure +that would grace any court, or shine upon any stage, she usually enters +a room without producing, or thinking of producing, any sensation; she +moves often without seeming to have any other intention than to change +her place; and her fine eyes generally look as if they were made only to +see with. At times she certainly has a most expressive and intelligent +countenance. I have seen her face enlightened by the fire of genius, +and shaded by the exquisite touches of sensibility; but all this is +merely called forth by the occasion, and vanishes before it is noticed +by half the company. Indeed, the full radiance of her beauty or of her +wit seldom shines upon any one but her husband. The audience and +spectators are forgotten. Heavens! what a difference between the effect +which Leonora and Gabrielle produce! But, to do her justice, much of +this arises from the different <i>organization</i> of French and English +society. In Paris the insipid details of domestic life are judiciously +kept behind the scenes, and women appear as heroines upon the stage, +with all the advantages of decoration, to listen to the language of +love, and to receive the homage of public admiration. In England, +gallantry is not yet <i>systematised</i>, and our sex look more to their +families than to what is called society for the happiness of existence. +And yet the affection of mothers for their children does not appear to +be so strong in the hearts of English as of French women. In England +ladies do not talk of the <i>sentiment of maternity</i> with that elegance +and sensibility with which you expatiate upon it continually in +conversation. They literally are <i>des bonnes mères de famille</i>, not from +the impulse of sentiment, but merely from an early instilled sense of +duty, for which they deserve little credit. However, they devote their +lives to their children, and those who have the misfortune to be their +intimate friends are doomed to see them half the day, or all day long, +go through the part of the good mother in all its diurnal monotony of +lessons and caresses. All this may be vastly right—it is a pity it is +so tiresome. For my part I cannot conceive how persons of superior taste +and talents can submit to it, unless it be to make themselves a +reputation, and that you know is done by writing and talking on the +general principles, not by submitting to the minute details of +education. The great painter sketches the outline, and touches the +principal features, but leaves the subordinate drudgery of filling up +the parts, finishing the drapery, &c., to inferior hands.</p> + +<p>Upon recollection, in my favourite "Sorrows of Werter," the heroine is +represented cutting bread and butter for a group of children: I admire +this simplicity in Goethe; 'tis one of the secrets by which he touches +the heart. Simplicity is delightful by way of variety, but always +simplicity is worse than <i>toujours perdrix</i>. Children in a novel or a +drama are charming little creatures: but in real life they are often +insufferable plagues. What becomes of them in Paris I know not; but I am +sure that they are never in the way of one's conversations or reveries; +and it would be a blessing to society if English children were as +inaudible and invisible. These things strike me sensibly upon my return +to England, after so long an absence. Surely, by means of the machinery +of masters, and governesses, and schools, the manufacture of education +might be carried on without incommoding those who desire to see only the +finished production. Here I find the daughter of an English duke, a +woman in the first bloom of youth, of the highest pretensions in point +of rank, beauty, fashion, accomplishments, and talents, devoting herself +to the education of two children, orphans, left to her care by an elder +sister. To take charge of orphans is a good and fine action; as such it +touches me sensibly; but then where is the necessity of sacrificing +one's friends, and one's pleasures, day after day, and hour after hour, +to mere children? Leonora can persevere only from a notion of duty. Now, +in my opinion, when generosity becomes duty it ceases to be virtue. +Virtue requires free-will: duty implies constraint. Virtue acts from the +impulse of the moment, and never tires or is tired; duty drudges on in +consequence of reflection, and, weary herself, wearies all beholders. +Duty, always laborious, never can be graceful; and what is not graceful +in woman cannot be amiable—can it, my amiable Gabrielle? But I reproach +myself for all I have written. Leonora is my friend—besides, I am +really obliged to her, and for the universe would I not hint a thought +to her disadvantage. Indeed she is a most excellent, a faultless +character, and it is the misfortune of your Olivia not to love +perfection as she ought.</p> + +<p>My charming and interesting Gabrielle, I am more out of humour with +myself than you can conceive; for in spite of all that reason and +gratitude urge, I fear I cannot prefer the insipid virtues of Leonora to +the lively graces of Gabrielle.</p> + +<p>As to the cold husband, Mr L——, I neither know nor wish to know +anything of him; but I live in hopes of an agreeable and interesting +accession to our society to-day, from the arrival of Leonora's intimate +friend, a young widow, whose husband I understand was a man of a harsh +temper: she has gone through severe trials with surprising fortitude; +and though I do not know her history, I am persuaded it must be +interesting. Assuredly this husband could never have been the man of her +choice, and of course she must have had some secret unhappy attachment, +which doubtless preyed upon her spirits. Probably the object of her +affection, in despair at her marriage, plighted his faith unfortunately, +or possibly may have fallen a sacrifice to his constancy. I am all +impatience to see her. Her husband's name was so ruggedly English, that +I am sure you would never be able to pronounce it, especially if you +only saw it written; therefore I shall always to you call her Helen, a +name which is more pleasing to the ear, and more promising to the +imagination. I have not been able to prevail upon Leonora to describe +her friend to me exactly; she says only, that she loves Helen too well +to over-praise her beforehand. My busy fancy has, however, bodied forth +her form, and painted her in the most amiable and enchanting colours. +Hark! she is just arrived. Adieu.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xij.</h2> + +<h3><i>From Mrs C—— to Miss B——.</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Having now had the honour of spending nearly a week in the society of +the celebrated enchantress, Lady Olivia, you will naturally expect that +I should be much improved in the art of love: but before I come to my +improvements I must tell you, what will be rather more interesting, that +Leonora is perfectly well and happy, and that I have the dear delight of +exclaiming ten times an hour, "Ay, just as I thought it would be!—Just +such a wife, just such a mistress of a family I knew she would make."</p> + +<p>"<i>Not to admire</i>" is an art or a precept which I have not been able to +practise much since I came here. Some philosophers tell us that +admiration is not only a silly but a fatiguing state of mind; and I +suppose that nothing could have preserved my mind from being tired to +death but the quantity of bodily exercise which I have taken. I could if +I pleased give you a plan and elevation of this castle. Nay, I doubt not +but I could stand an examination in the catalogue of the pictures, or +the inventory of the furniture.</p> + +<p>You, Helen!—you who could not remember the colour of Lady N——'s +<i>new</i> curtains after you had seen them at least a hundred times!</p> + +<p>Lady N—— was indifferent to me, and how could I hang up her curtains +in my memory? By what could they hold? Do you not know, Margaret. . . . +all the fine things that I could say, and that quartos have said before +me, about the association of ideas and sensations, &c.? Those we love +impart to uninteresting objects the power of pleasing, as the magnet can +communicate to inert metal its attractive influence.</p> + +<p>Till Mr L—— was Leonora's lover I never liked him much. I do not mean +to call him inert. I always knew that he had many excellent qualities; +but there was nothing in his temper peculiarly agreeable to me, and +there was something in his character that I did not thoroughly +understand; yet since he is become Leonora's husband I find my +understanding much improved, and I dare say it will soon be so far +enlarged, that I shall comprehend him perfectly.</p> + +<p>Leonora has almost persuaded me to like Lady Olivia. Not to laugh at her +would be impossible. I wish you could see the way in which we go on +together. Our first setting out would have diverted you. Enter Lady +Olivia breathless, with an air of theatric expectation—advances to +embrace Helen, who is laughing with Leonora—her back turned towards the +side of the stage at which Olivia enters—Olivia pauses suddenly, and +measures Helen <i>with a long look</i>. What passes in Lady Olivia's mind at +this moment I do not know, but I guess that she was disappointed wofully +by my appearance. After some time she was recovered, by Leonora's +assistance, from her reverie, and presently began to admire my vivacity, +and to find out that I was Clarissa's Miss Howe—no, I was Lady G.—no, +I was Heloise's Clara: but I, choosing to be myself, and insisting upon +being an <i>original</i>, sunk again visibly and rapidly in Olivia's opinion, +till I was in imminent danger of being <i>nobody</i>. Leonora again kindly +interposed to save me from annihilation; and after an interval of an +hour or two dedicated to letter-writing, Lady Olivia returned and seated +herself beside me, resolved to decide what manner of woman I was. +Certain novels are the touchstones of feeling and <i>intellect</i> with +certain ladies. Unluckily I was not well read in these; and in the +questions put to me from these sentimental statute-books, I gave strange +judgments, often for the husband or parents against the heroine. I did +not even admit the plea of destiny, irresistible passion, or +<i>entraînement</i>, as in all cases sufficient excuse for all errors and +crimes. Moreover, I excited astonishment by calling things by obsolete +names. I called a married woman's having a lover <i>a crime</i>! Then I was +no judge of virtues, for I thought a wife's making an intimate friend of +her husband's mistress was scandalous and mean; but this I was told is +the height of delicacy and generosity. I could not perceive the +propriety of a man's liking two women at the same time, or a woman's +having a platonic attachment for half a dozen lovers; and I owned that I +did not wish divorce could be as easily obtained in England as in +France. All which proved that I have never been out of England—a great +misfortune! I dare say it will soon be discovered that women as well as +madeira cannot be good for anything till they have crossed the line. But +beside the obloquy of having lived only in the best company in England, +I was further disgraced by the discovery, that I am deplorably ignorant +of metaphysics, and have never been enlightened by any philanthropic +transcendental foreign professor of humanity. Profoundly humiliated, and +not having yet taken the first step towards knowledge, the knowing that +I was ignorant, I was pondering upon my sad fate, when Lady Olivia, +putting her hand upon my shoulder, summoned me into the court of love, +there in my own proper person to answer such questions as it should +please her ladyship to ask. For instance:—"Were you ever in love?—How +often?—When?—Where?—And with whom?"</p> + +<p>Never having stood a cross-examination in public upon these points, I +was not quite prepared to reply; and I was accused of giving evasive +answers, and convicted of blushing. Mr L——, who was present at this +examination, enjoyed, in his grave way, my astonishment and confusion, +but said not one word. I rallied my spirits and my wits, and gave some +answers which gained the smile of the court on my side.</p> + +<p>From these specimens you may guess, my dear Margaret, how well this lady +and I are likely to agree. I shall divert myself with her absurdities +without scruple. Yet notwithstanding the flagrancy of these, Leonora +persuades me to think well of Olivia; indeed I am so happy here, that it +would be a difficult matter at present to make me think ill of anybody. +The good qualities which Leonora sees in her are not yet visible to my +eyes; but Leonora's visual orb is so cleared with charity and love, that +she can discern what is not revealed to vulgar sight. Even in the very +germ she discovers the minute form of the perfect flower. <i>The Olivia</i> +will, I hope, in time blow out in full perfection.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xiij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Monday.</p> + +<p>O my Gabrielle! this Helen is not precisely the person that I expected. +Instead of being a dejected beauty, she is all life and gaiety.</p> + +<p>I own I should like her better if she were a little more pensive; a +tinge of melancholy would, in her situation, be so becoming and natural. +My imagination was quite disappointed when I beheld the quickness of her +eyes and frequency of her smiles. Even her mode of showing affection to +Leonora was not such as could please me. This is the first visit, I +understand, that she has paid Leonora since her marriage:–-these friends +have been separated for many months.—I was not present at their +meeting; but I came into the room a few minutes after <i>Helen's</i> arrival, +and I should have thought that they had seen one another but yesterday. +This <i>dear Helen</i> was quite at ease and at home in a few moments, and +seemed as if she had been living with us for years. I make allowance for +the ease of well-bred people. Helen has lived much in the world, and has +polished manners. But the heart—the heart is superior to politeness; +and even ease, in some situations, shows a want of the delicate <i>tact</i> +of sentiment. In a similar situation I should have been silent, +entranced, absorbed, in my sensations—overcome by them, +perhaps—dissolved in tears. But in Helen there appeared no symptoms of +real sensibility—nothing characteristic—nothing profound—nothing +concentrated: it was all superficial, and evaporated in the common way. +I was provoked to see Leonora satisfied. She assures me that Helen has +uncommonly strong affections, and that her character rather exceeds than +is deficient in enthusiasm. Possibly; but I am certain that Helen is in +no danger of becoming romantic. Far from being abstracted, I never saw +any one seem more interested and eager about every present +occurrence—pleased, even to childishness, with every passing trifle. I +confess that she is too much of this world for me. But I will if +possible suspend my judgment, and study her a few hours longer before I +give you my definitive opinion.</p> + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Thursday.</p> + +<p>Well, my Gabrielle, my <i>definitive opinion</i> is that I can never love +this friend of Leonora. I said that she had lived much in the world—but +only in the English world: she has never seen any other; therefore, +though quite in a different style from Leonora, she shocks me with the +same nationality. All her ideas are exclusively English: she has what is +called English good sense, and English humour, and English prejudices of +<i>all sorts</i>, both masculine and feminine. She takes fire in defence of +her country and of her sex; nay, sometimes blushes even to awkwardness, +which one would not expect in the midst of her good breeding and +vivacity. What a difference between her vivacity and that of my charming +Gabrielle! as great as between the enlargement of your mind and the +limited nature of her understanding. I tried her on various subjects, +but found her intrenched in her own contracted notions. All new, or +liberal, or sublime ideas in morality or metaphysics she either cannot +seize, or seizes only to place in a ridiculous point of view: a certain +sign of mediocrity. Adieu, my Gabrielle. I must send you the pictures, +whether engaging or forbidding, of those with whom your Olivia is +destined to pass her time. When I have no events to relate, still I must +write to convey to you my sentiments. Alas! how imperfectly!—for I have +interdicted myself the expression of those most interesting to my +heart. Leonora, calmly prudent, coolly virtuous, knows not what it costs +me to be faithful to this cruel promise. Write to me, my sympathizing, +my tender friend!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 65%;">Your ever unhappy</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xiv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to Miss B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">July 10th.</p> + +<p>Some very good people, like some very fine pictures, are best at a +distance. But Leonora is not one of these: the nearer you approach the +better you like her, as in arabesque-work you may admire the beauty of +the design even at a distance, but you cannot appreciate the delicacy of +the execution till you examine it closely, and discover that every line +is formed of grains of gold almost imperceptibly fine. I am glad that +the "small sweet courtesies of life" have been hailed by one sentimental +writer at least. The minor virtues are not to be despised even in +comparison with the most exalted. The common rose, I have often thought, +need not be ashamed of itself even in company with the finest exotics in +a hothouse; and I remember, that your brother, in one of his letters, +observed, that the common cock makes a very respectable figure even in +the grand Parisian assembly of all the stuffed birds and beasts in the +universe. It is a glorious thing to have a friend who will jump into a +river, or down a precipice, to save one's life: but as I do not intend +to tumble down precipices, or to throw myself into the water above half +a dozen times, I would rather have for my friends persons who would not +reserve their kindness wholly for these grand occasions, but who could +condescend to make me happy every day, and all day long, even by +actions not sufficiently sublime to be recorded in history or romance.</p> + +<p>Do not infer from this that I think Leonora would hesitate to make +<i>great</i> sacrifices. I have had sufficient experience of her fortitude +and active courage of mind in the most trying circumstances, whilst many +who talked more stoutly shrunk from <i>committing</i> themselves by actions.</p> + +<p>Some maxim-maker says, that past misfortunes are good for nothing but to +be forgotten. I am not of his opinion: I think that they are good to +make us know our winter from our summer friends, and to make us feel for +those who have sustained us in adversity that most pleasurable sensation +of human mind—gratitude.</p> + +<p>But I am straying unawares into the province of sentiment, where I am +such a stranger that I shall inevitably lose my way, especially as I am +too proud to take a guide. Lady Olivia **** may perhaps be very fond of +Leonora: and as she has every possible cause to be so, it is but +reasonable and charitable to suppose that she is: but I should never +guess it by her manner. She speaks of her friendship sometimes in the +most romantic style, but often makes observations upon <i>the enviable +coolness and imperturbability of Leonora's disposition</i>, which convinces +me that she does not understand it in the least. Those who do not really +feel always pitch their expressions too high or too low, as deaf people +bellow or speak in a whisper. But I may be mistaken in my suspicions of +Olivia; for <i>to do the lady justice</i>, as Mrs Candour would say, she is +so affected that it is difficult to know what she really feels. Those +who put on rouge occasionally are suspected of wearing it constantly, +and never have any credit for their natural colour; presently they +become so accustomed to common rouge, that mistaking scarlet for pale +pink, they persist in laying on more and more, till they are like +nothing human.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>I have found it! I have found it! dear Gabrielle, rejoice with me! I +have solved the metaphysical problem, which perplexed me so cruelly, and +now I am once more at peace with myself. I have discovered the reason +why I cannot love Leonora as she merits to be loved—she has obliged me; +and the nature of obligation is such, that it supposes superiority on +one side, and consequently destroys the equality, the freedom, the ease, +the charm of friendship. Gratitude weighs upon one's heart in proportion +to the delicacy of its feelings. To minds of an ordinary sort it may be +pleasurable, for with them it is sufficiently feeble to be calm; but in +souls of a superior cast, it is a poignant, painful sensation, because +it is too strong ever to be tranquil. In short—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Tis bliss but to a certain bound—</span> +<span class="i2">Beyond, 'tis agony."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>For my own part, the very dread that I shall not be thought to express +enough deprives me of the power to speak, or even to feel. Fear, you +know, extinguishes affection; and of all fears the dread of not being +sufficiently grateful operates the most powerfully. Thus sensibility +destroys itself.—Gracious Heaven! teach me to moderate mine.</p> + +<p>In the nature of the obligation with which Leonora has oppressed my +heart, there is something peculiarly humiliating. Upon my return to this +country I found the malignant genius of scandal bent upon destroying my +reputation. You have no idea of the miserable force of prejudice which +still prevails here. There are some women who emancipate themselves, but +then unluckily they are not in sufficient numbers to keep each other in +countenance in public. One would not choose to be confined to the +society of people who cannot go to court, though sometimes they take the +lead elsewhere. We are full half a century behind you in civilization; +and your revolution has, I find, afforded all our stiffened moralists +<i>incontrovertible</i> arguments against liberty of opinion or conduct in +either sex.</p> + +<p>I was thunderstruck when I saw the grave and repulsive faces of all my +female acquaintance. At first I attributed everything that was strange +and disagreeable to English reserve, of which I had retained a +sufficiently formidable idea: but I presently found that there was some +other cause which kept all these nice consciences at a distance from my +atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Would you believe it, I saw myself upon the point of being quite +excluded from good society. Leonora saved me from this imminent danger. +Voluntarily, and I must say nobly, if not gracefully, Leonora came +forward in my defence. Vanquishing her natural English timidity, she +braved the eyes, and tongues, and advice of all the prudes and old +dowagers my enemies, amongst whom I may count the superannuated duchess +her mother, the proudest dowager now living. When I appeared in public +with a personage of Leonora's unblemished reputation, scandal, much +against her will, was forced to be silent, and it was to be taken for +granted that I was, in the language of prudery, perfectly innocent. +Leonora, to be consistent in goodness, or to complete her triumph in the +face of the world, invited me to accompany her to the country.——I have +now been some weeks at this superb castle. Heaven is my witness that I +came with a heart overflowing with affection; but the painful, the +agonizing sense of humiliation mixed with my tenderest sentiments, and +all became bitterness insufferable. O Gabrielle! you, and perhaps you +alone upon earth, can understand my feelings. Adieu!—pity me—I must +not ask you a single question about——I must not write the name for +ever dear—What am I saying? where are my promises?—Adieu!—Adieu!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your unhappy</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to Miss B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">July 16th.</p> + +<p>As I have never thought it my duty in this mortal life to mourn for the +absurdities of my fellow-creatures, I should now enjoy the pleasure of +laughing at Lady Olivia, if my propensity were not checked by a serious +apprehension that she will injure Leonora's happiness. From the most +generous motives dear Leonora is continually anxious to soothe her mind, +to persuade and reason her into common sense, to re-establish her in +public opinion, and to make her happy. But I am convinced that Lady +Olivia never will have common sense, and consequently never can be +happy. Twenty times a day I wish her at the antipodes, for I dread lest +Leonora should be implicated in her affairs, and involved in her misery.</p> + +<p>Last night this foolish woman, who unluckily is graced with all the +power of words, poured forth a fine declamation in favour of divorce. In +vain Leonora reasoned, expostulated, blushed. Lady Olivia cannot blush +for herself; and though both Mr L—— and I were present, she persisted +with that vehemence which betrays personal interest in an argument. I +suspect that she is going to try to obtain a divorce from her husband, +that she may marry her lover. Consider the consequences of this for +Leonora.—Leonora to be the friend of a woman who will brave the infamy +of a trial at Doctors' Commons! But Leonora says I am mistaken, and that +all this is only Olivia's way of talking. I wish then, that, if she does +not intend to act like a fool, she would not talk like one. I agree with +the gentleman who said that a woman who begins by playing the fool, +always ends by playing the devil. Even before me, though I certainly +never solicit her confidence, Lady Olivia talks with the most imprudent +openness of her love affairs; not, I think, from ingenuousness, but from +inability to restrain herself. Begin what subject of conversation I +will, as far from Cupid as possible, she will bring me back again to him +before I know where I am. She has no ideas but on this one subject. +Leonora, dear kind-hearted Leonora, attributes this to the temporary +influence of a violent passion, which she assures me Olivia will +conquer, and that then all her great and good qualities will, as if +freed from enchantment, re-assume their natural vigour. +<i>Natural!</i>—there is nothing natural about this sophisticated lady. I +wish Leonora would think more of herself and less of other people. As to +Lady Olivia's excessive sensibility, I have no faith in it. I do not +think either the lover or the passion so much to be feared for her, as +the want of a lover and the habit of thinking that it is necessary to be +in love. * * * * * * * * *</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Paris, Hôtel de Courlande.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear L——,</span></p></div> + +<p>When you ask a countryman in England the way to the next town, he +replies, "Where do you come from, master?" and till you have answered +this question, no information can you obtain from him. You ask me what I +know of Lady Olivia ——. What is your reason for asking? Till you have +answered this question, hope for no information from me. Seriously, Lady +Olivia had left Paris before I arrived, therefore you cannot have my +judgment of her ladyship, which I presume is all you could depend upon. +If you will take hearsay evidence, and if you wish me to speak to +general character, I can readily satisfy you. Common repute is loud and +unanimous in favour of her talents, beauty, and fashion: there is no +resisting, I am told, the fascination of her manners and conversation; +<i>but</i> her opinions are fashionably liberal, and her practice as liberal +as her theories. Since her separation from her husband, her lover is +publicly named. Some English friends plead in her favour platonic +attachment: this, like benefit of clergy, is claimed of course for a +first offence: but Lady Olivia's Parisian acquaintance are not so +scrupulous or so old-fashioned as to think it an offence; they call it +an <i>arrangement</i>, and to this there can be no objection. As a French +gentleman said to me the other day, with an unanswerable shrug, "Tout le +monde sait que R*** est son amant; d'ailleurs, c'est la femme la plus +aimable du monde."</p> + +<p>As to Lady Olivia's friend, Mad. de P——, she sees a great deal of +company: her house is the resort of people of various descriptions; +ministers, foreigners, coquettes, and generals; in short, of all those +who wish without scandal or suspicion to intrigue either in love or +politics. Her assemblies are also frequented by a few of <i>l'ancien +régime</i>, who wish to be in favour with the present government. Mad. de +P——, of a noble family herself, and formerly much at court, has +managed matters so as to have regained all her husband's confiscated +property, and to have acquired much influence with some of the leading +men of the day. In her manners and conversation there is an odd mixture +of frivolity and address, of the airs of coquetry and the jargon of +sentiment. She has the politeness of a French countess, with <i>exquisite</i> +knowledge of the world and of <i>les convenances</i>, joined to that freedom +of opinion which marks the present times. In the midst of all these +inconsistencies, it is difficult to guess what her real character may +be. At first sight, I should pronounce her to be a silly woman, governed +by vanity and the whim of the moment: but those who know her better than +I do believe her to be a woman of considerable talents, inordinately +fond of power, and uniformly intent upon her own interest, using +coquetry only as a means to govern our sex, and frivolity as a mask for +her ambition. In short, Mad. de P—— is a perfect specimen of the +combination of an <i>intrigante</i> and an <i>élégante</i>, a combination often +found in Paris. Here women mingle politics and gallantry—men mix +politics and epicurism—which is the better mixture?</p> + +<p>I have business of importance to my country to transact to-day, +<i>therefore</i> I am going to dine with the modern Apicius. Excuse me, my +dear friend, if I cannot stay at present to answer your questions about +divorce. I must be punctual. What sort of a negociator can he make who +is too late at a minister's dinner? Five minutes might change the face +of Europe.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris.</p> + +<p>My incomparable Olivia! your letters are absolutely divine. I am +<i>maussade</i>, I <i>vegetate</i>. I cannot be said to live the days when I do +not hear from you. Last Thursday I was disappointed of one of these dear +letters, and <i>Brave-et-tendre</i> told me frankly that I was so little +amiable he should not have known me.—As to the rest, pardon me for not +writing punctually: I have been really in a chaos of business and +pleasure, and I do not know which fatigues most. But I am obliged to +attend the ministers every day, for the sake of my friends.</p> + +<p>A thousand and a thousand thanks for your pictures of your English +friends: sketches by a masterly hand must be valuable, whatever the +subject. I would rather have the pictures than the realities. Your Helen +and your Lady Leonora are too good for me, and I pity you from my soul +for being shut up in that old castle. I suppose it is like an old castle +in Dauphiny, where I once spent a week, and where I was nearly +frightened to death by the flapping of the old tapestry behind my bed, +and by the bats which flew in through the broken windows. They say, +however, that our <i>châteaux</i> and yours are something different. Of this +I have no clear conception.</p> + +<p>I send you three comforters in your prison—a billet-doux, a new novel, +and a pattern of my sandal: a billet-doux from R*** says everything for +itself; but I must say something for the new novel. Zenobie, which I now +send you, is the declared rival of Seraphine. Parties have run high on +both sides, and applications were made and inuendoes discovered, and wit +and sentiment came to close combat; and, as usual, people talked till +they did not understand themselves. For a fortnight, wherever one went +the first words to be heard on entering every <i>salon</i> were Seraphine and +Zenobie.—Peace or war.—Mlle. Georges and Mlle. Duchesnois were +nothing to Seraphine and Zenobie. For Heaven's sake tell me which you +prefer! But I fear they will be no more talked of before I have your +answer. To say the truth, I am tired of both heroines, for a fortnight +is too long to talk or think of any one thing.</p> + +<p>I flatter myself you will like my sandals: they are my own invention, +and my foot really shows them to advantage. You know I might say, as Du +P*** said of himself, "J'ai un pied dont la petitesse échappe à la +vitesse de la pensée." I thought my poor friend Mad. Dumarais would have +died with envy, the other day, when I appeared in them at her ball, +which, by the by, was in all its decorations as absurd and in as bad +taste as usual. For the most part these <i>nouveaux riches</i> lavish money, +but can never purchase taste or a sense of propriety. All is gold: but +that is not enough; or rather that is too much.—In spite of all that +both the Indies, China, Arabia, Egypt, and even Paris can do for them, +they will be ever out of place, in the midst of their magnificence: they +will never even know how to ruin themselves nobly. They must live and +die as they were born, ridiculous. Now I would rather not exist than +feel myself ridiculous. But I believe no one living, not even le petit +d'Heronville, knows himself to be an object of ridicule. There are no +looking-glasses for the mind, and I question whether we should use them +if there were. D'Heronville is just as you left him, and as much my +amusement as he used to be yours. He goes on with an eternal galimatias +of patriotism, with such a self-sufficient air and decided tone! never +suspecting that he says only what other people make him say, and that he +is listened to, only to find out what <i>some people</i> think. Many will say +before fools what they would not hazard before wise men; not considering +that fools can repeat as well as parrots. I once heard a great man +remark that the only spies fit to be trusted are those who do not know +themselves to be such, who have no salary but what their vanity pays +them, and who are employed without being accredited.</p> + +<p>But trève de politique!—My charming Olivia, I know, abhors politics as +much as I detest metaphysics, from all lips or pens but hers. Now I must +tell you something of your friends here.</p> + +<p>O—— talks nonsense as agreeably as ever, and dances as divinely. 'Tis +a pity he cannot always dance, for then he would not ruin himself at +play. He wants me to get him a regiment—as if I had any power!—or as +if I would use it for this purpose, when I know that my interesting +friend Mad. Q—— would break her poor little heart if he were to quit +her.</p> + +<p><i>Mon Coeur</i> is as pretty as ever; but she is now in affliction. She has +lost her dear little dog Corisonde. He died suddenly; almost in her +arms! She will erect a monument to him in her charming <i>jardin Anglois</i>. +This will occupy her, and then "Time, the comforter"—Inimitable +Voltaire!</p> + +<p>Our dear <i>Brillante</i> has just had a superb <i>hommage</i> from her lover the +commissary—a necklace and bracelets of the finest pearls: but she +cannot wear them yet: her brother having died last week, she is in deep +mourning. This brother was not upon good terms with her. He never +forgave the divorce. He thought it a disgrace to have a sister <i>une +divorcée</i>; but he was full of prejudice, poor man, and he is dead, and +we need think no more of him or of his faults.</p> + +<p>Our ci-devant chanoine, who married that little Meudon, is as miserable +as possible, and as ridiculous: for he is jealous of his young wife, and +she is a <i>franche-coquette</i>. The poor man looks as if he repented +sincerely of his errors. What a penitent a coquette can make of a +husband! Bourdaloue and Massillon would have tried their powers on this +man's heart in vain.</p> + +<p>Did I tell you that Mad. G—— is a second time divorced? But this time +it is her husband's doing, not hers. This handsome husband has spent all +the immense fortune she brought him, and now procures a divorce for +<i>incompatibility of temper</i>, and is going to marry another lady, richer +than Mad. G——, and as great a fool. This system of divorce, though +convenient, is not always advantageous to women. However, in one point +of view, I wonder that the rigid moralists do not defend it, as the only +means of making a man in love with his own wife. A man divorces; the law +does not permit him to marry the same woman afterwards; of course this +prohibition makes him fall in love with her. Of this we have many +edifying examples besides Fanchette, who, though she was so beautiful, +and a tolerable actress, would never have drawn all Paris to the +Vaudeville if she had not been a <i>divorcée</i>, and if it had not been +known that her husband, who played the lover of the piece, was dying to +marry her again. Apropos, Mad. St Germain is acting one of her own +romances, in the high sublime style, and threatens to poison herself for +love of her perjured inconstant—but it will not do.</p> + +<p>Madame <i>la Grande</i> was near having a sad accident the other night: in +crossing the Pont-neuf her horses took fright; for there was a crowd and +<i>embarras</i>, a man having just drowned himself—not for love, but for +hunger. How many men, women, and children, do you think, drowned +themselves in the Seine last year? Upwards of two hundred. This is +really shocking, and a stop should be put to it by authority. It +absolutely makes me shudder and reflect; but <i>après nous le déluge</i> was +La Pompadour's maxim, and should be ours.</p> + +<p>Mad. Folard <i>se coiffe en cheveux</i>, and Mad. Rocroix crowns herself with +roses, whilst all the world knows that either of them is old enough to +be my mother. In former days a woman could not wear flowers after +thirty, and was <i>bel esprit</i> or <i>dévote</i> at forty, for it was thought +bad taste to do otherwise. But now everybody may be as young as they +please, or as ridiculous. Women have certainly gained by the new order +of things.</p> + +<p>Our poor friend <i>Vermeille</i> se meurt de la poitrine—a victim to tea and +late hours. She is an interesting creature, and my heart bleeds for her: +she will never last till winter.</p> + +<p>Do you know, it is said, we shall soon have no wood to burn. What can +have become of all our forests? People should inquire after them. The +Venus de Medicis has at last found her way down the Seine. It is not +determined yet where to place her: but she is at Paris, and that is a +great point gained for her. You complained that the Apollo stands with +his back so near the wall, that there is no seeing half the beauties of +his shoulders. If I have any influence, Venus shall not be so served. I +have been to see her. She is certainly divine—but not French. I do not +despair of seeing her surpassed by our artists.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my adorable Olivia. I should have finished my letter yesterday; +but when I came home in the morning, expecting to have a moment sacred +to you and friendship, who should I find established in an arm-chair in +my cabinet but our old countess <i>Ci-devant</i>. There was no retreat for +me. In the midst of my concentrated rage I was obliged to advance and +embrace her, and there was an end of happiness for the day. The pitiless +woman kept me till it was even too late to dress, talking over her +family misfortunes; as if they were anything to me. She wants to get her +son employed, but her pride will not let her pay her court properly, and +she wants me to do it for her. Not I, truly. I should shut my doors +against her but for the sake of her nephew <i>le roué</i>, who is really a +pretty young man. My angel, I embrace you tenderly.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>How melancholy to a feeling heart is the moment when illusion vanishes, +whether that illusion has been created by the magic of love or of +friendship! How many such moments, Gabrielle, has your unfortunate +friend been doomed to endure! Alas! when will treacherous fancy cease to +throw a deceitful brilliancy upon each new object!</p> + +<p>Perhaps I am too delicate—but R***'s note, enclosed in your last, my +Gabrielle, was unlike his former letters. It was not passionate, it was +only reasonable. A man who can reason is no longer in love. The manner +in which he speaks of divorce shocked me beyond expression. Is it for +him to talk of scruples when upon this subject I have none? I own to you +that my pride and my tenderness are sensibly wounded. Is it for him to +convince me that I am in the wrong? I shall not be at ease till I hear +from you again, my amiable friend: for my residence here becomes +insupportable. But a few short weeks are past since I fancied Leonora an +angel, and now she falls below the ordinary standard of mortals. But a +few short weeks are past since, in the full confidence of finding in +Leonora a second self, a second Gabrielle, I eagerly developed to her my +inmost soul; yet now my heart closes, I fear never more to open. The sad +conviction, that we have but few ideas, and no feelings in common, stops +my tongue when I attempt to speak, chills my heart when I begin to +listen.</p> + +<p>Do you know, my Gabrielle, I have discovered that Leonora is +inordinately selfish? For all other faults I have charity; but +selfishness, which has none to give, must expect none. O divine +sensibility, defend me from this isolation of the heart! All thy +nameless sorrows, all thy heart-rending tortures, would I a thousand +times rather endure. Leonora's selfishness breaks out perpetually; and, +alas! it is of the most inveterate, incurable kind: everything that is +immediately or remotely connected with self she loves, and loves with +the most provoking pertinacity. Her mother, her husband, she adores, +because they are her own; and even her sister's children, because she +considers them, she says, as her own. All and every possible portion of +self she cherishes with the most sordid partiality. All that touches +these relations touches her; and everything which is theirs, or, in +other words, which is hers, she deems excellent and sacred. Last night I +just hazarded a word of ridicule upon some of the obsolete prejudices of +that august personage, that duchess of old tapestry, her still living +ancestor. I wish, Gabrielle, you had seen Leonora's countenance. Her +colour rose up to her temples, her eyes lightened with indignation, and +her whole person assumed a dignity, which might have killed a +presumptuous lover, or, better far, might have enslaved him for life. +What folly to waste all this upon such an occasion. But selfishness is +ever blind to its real interests. Leonora is so bigoted to this old +woman, that she is already in mind an old woman herself. She fancies +that she traces a resemblance to her mother, and of course to dear self, +in her infant, and she looks upon it with such doting eyes, and talks to +it with such exquisite tones of fondness, as are to me, who know the +source from which they proceed, quite ridiculous and disgusting. An +infant, who has no imaginable merit, and, to impartial eyes, no charms, +she can love to this excess from no motive but pure <i>egotism</i>. Then her +husband—but this subject I must reserve for another letter. I am +summoned to walk with him this moment.</p> + +<p>Adieu, charming Gabrielle.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xx.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris, 180—.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear L——</span>,</p></div> + +<p>Enclosed I send you, according to your earnest desire, Cambaceres' +reflections upon the intended new law of divorce. Give me leave to ask +why you are so violently interested upon this occasion? Do you envy +France this blessing? Do you wish that English husbands and wives should +have the power of divorcing each other at pleasure for <i>incompatibility +of temper</i>? And have you calculated the admirable effect this would +produce upon the temper both of the weaker and the stronger sex? To bear +and forbear would then be no longer necessary. Every happy pair might +quarrel and part at a moment's notice—at a year's notice at most. And +their children? The wisdom of Solomon would be necessary to settle the +just division of the children. I have this morning been attending a +court of law to hear a famous trial between two husbands: the abdicated +lord a ci-devant noble, and the reigning husband a ci-devant +grand-vicaire, who has <i>reformed</i>. Each party claimed a right to the +children by the first marriage, for the children were minors entitled to +large fortunes. The <i>reformed</i> grand-vicaire pleaded his own cause with +astonishing assurance, amidst the discountenancing looks, murmurs, and +almost amidst the groans of disapprobation from the majority of the +auditors. His powers of impudence, however, failed him at last. I sat on +the bench behind him, and saw that his ears had the grace to blush. +After another hearing, this cause, which had lasted four years, was +decided: and the first husband and real father was permitted to have the +guardianship of his own children. During the four years' litigation, the +friends of the parties, from the grandmother downwards, were all at +irreconcileable variance. What became of the children all this time? +Their mother was represented during the trial as she deserved to be, as +a wretch void of shame and gratitude. The father was universally pitied, +though his rival painted him as a coward, who during the revolution had +left his children to save himself by flight; and as a fool, who had left +his wife to the care of a profligate grand-vicaire. Divorce is not +countenanced by opinion in Paris, though permitted by law. With a few +exceptions in extraordinary cases, I have observed that <i>les divorcées</i> +are not received into good society.</p> + +<p>To satiate your curiosity, I send you all the papers that have been +written lately on this subject, of which you will find that of +Cambaceres the best. The wits say that he is an impartial judge. I +presume you want these pamphlets for some foolish friend; for yourself +you can never want them, blessed as you are with such a wife as Lady +Leonora L——. I am not surprised that profligate men should wish for +freedom of divorce, because it would save them damages in Doctors' +Commons: but you rather astonish me—if a wise man should be astonished +at anything in these days—by assuring me that you have lately heard +this system eloquently defended by a female philosopher. What can women +expect from it but contempt? Next to polygamy, it would prove the most +certain method of destroying the domestic happiness of the sex, as well +as their influence and respectability in society. But some of the dear +creatures love to talk of what they do not understand, and usually show +their eloquence to the greatest advantage, by taking the wrong side of a +question.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>From selfishness to jealousy there is but one step, or rather there is +none; for jealousy of a certain sort is but selfishness in another form. +How different this passion as I have felt it, and as I see it shown! In +some characters it is the symptom of amiable and exquisite sensibility; +in others of odious coldness and contraction of heart. In some of our +sex it is, you know, my Gabrielle, a delicate fear, a tender anxiety, a +proof of ardent passion; in others it is a mere love of power, a +disgusting struggle for the property of a heart, an absurd assertion of +rights and prerogatives. Surely no prejudice of education or institution +can be more barbarous than that which teaches a wife that she has an +indefeasible and exclusive right both to the affections and the fidelity +of her husband. I am astonished to hear it avowed by any woman who has +the slightest pretensions to delicacy of sentiment, or liberality of +mind. I should expect to find this vulgar prejudice only among the +downright dames, who talk of <i>my good man</i>, and lay a particular +emphasis on the possessive pronoun <i>my</i>; who understand literally, and +expect that their spouses should adhere punctually to every coarse +article of our strange marriage vow.</p> + +<p>In certain points of view, my Gabrielle, jealousy is undoubtedly the +strongest proof of an indelicate mind. Yet, if I mistake not, the +delicate, the divine Leonora, is liable to this terrestrial passion. +Yesterday evening, as I was returning from a <i>stroll</i> in the park with +Mr L——, we met Leonora; and methought she looked embarrassed at +meeting us. Heaven knows there was not the slightest occasion for +embarrassment, and I could not avoid being surprised at such weakness, I +had almost said folly, in a woman of Leonora's sense, especially as she +knows how my heart is attached. In the first moments of our intimacy my +confidence was unbounded, as it ever is in those I love. Aware as I was +of the light in which the prejudices of her education and her country +make her view such connexions, yet I scrupled not, with the utmost +candour, to confess the unfortunate attachment which had ruled my +destiny. After this confidence, do not suspicion and jealousy on her +part appear strange? Were Mr L—— and I shut up for life in the same +prison, were we left together upon a desert island, were we alone in the +universe, I could never think of him. And Leonora does not see this! How +the passions obscure and degrade the finest understandings. But perhaps +I do her injustice, and she felt nothing of what her countenance +expressed. It is certain, however, that she was silent for some moments +after she joined us, from what cause she knows best—so was Mr L——, I +suppose from English awkwardness—so was I, from pure astonishment. At +length, in pity of Leonora, I broke the silence. I had recourse to the +beauties of nature.</p> + +<p>"What a heavenly evening!" said I. "We have been listening to the song +of the birds, enjoying this fresh breeze of nature's perfumes." Leonora +said something about the superiority of nature's perfumes to those of +art; and observed, "how much more agreeable the smell of flowers appears +in the open air than in confined rooms." Whilst she spoke she looked at +her husband, as she continually does, for assent and approbation. He +assented, but apparently without knowing what he was saying; and only by +one of his English monosyllables. I alone was at ease.</p> + +<p>"Can anything be more beautiful," continued I, looking back, "than the +soft mellow foliage of those woods, and the exquisite tints of their +rich colouring? What delicious melancholy such an evening spreads over +the heart!—what reflections!—what recollections!—O Leonora, look at +the lights upon that mountain, and the deep shadows upon the lake below. +Just such scenes have I admired, by such have I been entranced in +Switzerland."</p> + +<p>Leonora put her arm within mine—she seemed to have no objection to my +thoughts going back to Switzerland—I sighed—she pressed my hand +affectionately—I wiped the starting tear from my eye. Mr L—— looked +at me with something like surprise whilst I repeated involuntarily—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you,</span> +<span class="i0"> For morn is approaching your charms to restore,</span> +<span class="i0"> Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>I paused, recollecting myself, struck with <i>the ridicule</i> of repeating +verses, and of indulging feelings in which no one perhaps sympathized.</p> + +<p>"Those are beautiful lines," said Leonora: "that poem has always been a +favourite of mine."</p> + +<p>"And of mine, also," said Mr L——.</p> + +<p>"I prefer Beattie's Hermit to all other hermits," said Leonora.</p> + +<p>I was not in a mood calmly to discuss with her a point of criticism—I +walked on in reverie: but in this I was not allowed to indulge. Mr L—— +asked if I could not recollect some more of the Hermit—I pleaded the +worst memory in the world—a memory that can never recollect any poem +perfectly by rote, only the touches of genius or sensibility that strike +me—and those are so few!</p> + +<p>"But in this poem there are so many," said Leonora. I am sure she +insisted only to please her husband, and pleaded against her real +feelings purposely to conceal them. He persisted in his request, with +more warmth than usual. I was compelled to rouse myself from my reverie, +and to call back my distant thoughts. I repeated all that I could +recollect of the poem. Mr L—— paid me a profusion of compliments upon +the sweetness of my voice, and my taste in reciting. He was pleased to +find that my manner and tones gave an Italian expression to English +poetry, which to him was a peculiar charm. It reminded him of some +signora, whom he had known at Florence. This was the first time I had +learned that he had been abroad. I was going to explore the foreign +field of conversation which he thus opened; but just at that moment +Leonora withdrew her arm from mine, and I fancied that she coloured. +This might be only my fancy, or the natural effect of her stooping to +gather a flower. We were now within sight of the castle. I pointed to +one of the turrets over a Gothic window, upon which the gleams of the +setting sun produced a picturesque effect; my glove happened to be off, +and Leonora unluckily saw that her husband's eyes were fixed upon my +arm, instead of the turret to which I was pointing. 'Twas a trifle which +I never should have noticed, had she not forced it upon my attention. +She actually turned pale. I had the presence of mind not to put on my +glove.</p> + +<p>I must observe more accurately; I must decide whether this angelic +Leonora is or is not susceptible of the mortal passion ycleped jealousy. +I confess my curiosity is awakened.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my ever amiable Gabrielle.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>When the passions are asleep we are apt to fancy they are dead. I verily +thought that curiosity was dead within me, it had lain so long dormant +while stronger and tenderer sentiments waked in full activity; but now +that absence and distance from their object lull them to temporary +repose, the vulgar subordinate passions are roused, and take their turn +to reign. My curiosity was so strongly excited upon the subject of +Leonora's jealousy, that I could not rest, without attempting to obtain +satisfaction. Blame me not, dearest Gabrielle, for in my situation you +would inevitably have done the same, only that you would have done it +with more address; with that peculiar, inimitable address, which I envy +above all your accomplishments. But address is a delicate native of +France, and though it may now and then exist as a stranger, I doubt +whether it can ever be naturalized in our rude climate. All the attempts +I have made are, however, encouraging enough—you shall judge. My object +was, to ascertain the existence or non-existence of Leonora's jealousy. +I set about it with a tolerably careless assurance, and followed up the +hint, which accident had thrown out for my ingenuity to work upon. You +remember, or at least I remember, that Leonora withdrew her arm from +mine, and stooped to gather a flower at the moment when her husband +mentioned Florence, and the resemblance of my voice to that of some +Italian charmer. The next day I happened to play some of my sweetest +Italian airs, and to accompany them with my voice. The music-room opens +into the great hall: Leonora and her husband were in the hall, talking +to some visitors. The voices were soon hushed, as I expected, by the +magic sounds, but, what I did not expect, Leonora was the first who led +the way into the music-room. Was this affectation? These <i>simple</i> +characters sometimes baffle all the art of the decipherer. I should have +been clear that it was affectation, had Leonora been prodigal of +compliments on my performance; but she seemed only to listen for her own +pleasure, and left it to Mr L—— to applaud. Whilst I was preparing to +play over again the air which pleased him most, the two little nephews +came running to beg Leonora would follow them to look at some trifle, +some coloured shadow, upon the garden-wall, I think they said: she let +them lead her off, leaving <i>us</i> together. This did not seem like +jealousy. I was more at a loss than ever, and determined to make fresh +and more decisive experiments. Curiosity, you know, is heightened by +doubt. To cure myself of curiosity it is necessary therefore to put my +mind out of doubt. Admire the practical application of metaphysics! But +metaphysics always make you yawn. Adieu for to-day.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxiij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to Miss B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>Dear Margaret, an uncle of mine, who ever since I can remember seemed to +me cut out for an old bachelor, writes me word that he is just going to +be married, and that I must grace his nuptials. I cannot refuse, for he +has always been very kind to me, and we have no right to cut people out +for old bachelors. That I am sorry to leave Leonora it is superfluous to +tell you; but this is the melancholy part of the business, on which I +make it a principle to dwell as little as possible.</p> + +<p>Lady Olivia must be heartily glad that I am going, for I have been +terribly troublesome to her by my gaiety and my <i>simplicity</i>. I shall +lose all the pleasure I had promised myself in seeing the <i>dénouement</i> +of the comedy of <i>The Sentimental Coquette</i>, or, <i>The Heroine Unmasked</i>.</p> + +<p>I made Leonora almost angry with me this morning, by a hint or two I +gave upon this subject. She looked so very grave, that I was afraid of +my own thoughts, and I dared not explain myself farther. Intimate as I +am with her, there are points on which I am sure that she would never +make me her confidante. I think that she has not been in her usual good +spirits lately; and though she treats Olivia with uniform kindness, and +betrays not, even to my watchful eyes, the slightest symptom of +jealousy, yet I suspect that she sees what is going forward, and she +suffers in secret. Now if she would let me explain myself, I could set +her heart at ease, by the assurance that Mr L—— is only acting a part. +If her affection for her husband did not almost blind her, she would +have as much penetration as I have—which you will allow, my dear +Margaret, is saying a great deal.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxiv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>Congratulate me, my charming Gabrielle, upon being delivered from the +unfeeling gaiety of that friend of Leonora, that Helen of whom I +formerly sent you a too flattering portrait. Her departure relieves me +from many painful sensations. Dissonance to a musical ear is not more +horrid than want of harmony between characters to the soul of +sensibility. Between Helen and me there was a perpetual discord of ideas +and sentiments, which fatigued me inexpressibly. Besides, I began to +consider her as a spy upon my actions. But there, I believe, I did her +injustice, for she was too much occupied with her own trifling thoughts +to have any alarming powers of observation.</p> + +<p>Since her departure we have been very gay. Yesterday we had a large +company at dinner; some of the neighbouring families, whom I expected to +find mere country visitors, that were come a dozen miles to show their +antediluvian finery, retire half an hour after dinner, spoil coffee with +cream, say nothing, but at their appointed hours rise, ring for their +superb carriages, and go home by moonlight. However, to my astonishment, +I found myself in a society of well-bred, well-informed persons; the +women ready to converse, and the men, even after dinner, not impatient +to get rid of them. Two or three of the company had travelled, and I was +glad to talk to them of Italy, Switzerland, and France. Mr L—— I knew +would join in this conversation. I discovered that he came to Florence +just as I was leaving it. I was to have been at our ambassador's one +evening when he was there; but a headache prevented me. These little +coincidences, you know, my Gabrielle, draw people closer together. I +remember to have heard of a Mr L—— at Florence, who was a passionate +admirer of our sex. He was then unmarried. I little thought that this +was the same person. Beneath a cold exterior these Englishmen often +conceal a wondrous quantity of enthusiasm—volcanoes under snow. +Curiosity, dear indefatigable curiosity, supported me through the labour +of clearing away the snow, and I came to indubitable traces of +unextinguished and unextinguishable fire. The character of L—— is +quite different from what I had imagined it to be. It is <i>an excellent +study</i>. We had a long and interesting conversation upon national +manners, especially upon those of the females of all nations. He +concluded by quoting the words of your friend M. le Vicomte de Segur, +"If I were permitted to choose, I should prefer a French woman for my +friend, an English woman for my wife, and a Polish lady for my +mistress."</p> + +<p>From this, it seems, that I am mistaken about the Italian signora, or +else Mr L—— has an enlarged charity for the graces of all +nations.—More subject for curiosity.</p> + +<p>In the evening, before the company separated, we were standing on the +steps of the great hall, looking at a fine effect of moonlight, and I +pointed out the shadow of the arches of a bridge. From moonlight we went +on to lamplight, and many pretty things were said about art and nature. +A gentleman, who had just returned from Paris, talked of the reflection +of the lamps in the Seine, which one sees in crossing the Pont-Royal, +and which, as he said, appear like a colonnade of fire. As soon as he +had finished <i>prosing</i> about his colonnade, I turned to Mr L——, and +asked if he remembered the account which Coxe the traveller gives of +the Polish princess Czartoryski's charming <i>fête champêtre</i> and the +illuminated rustic bridge of one arch, the reflection of which in the +water was so strong as to deceive the eye, and to give the whole the +appearance of a brilliant circle suspended in the air. Mr L—— seemed +enchanted with my description, and eagerly said that he would some night +have a bridge in his improvements illuminated, that <i>we</i> (half-gallant +Englishman!) might see the effect. I carelessly replied, that probably +it would have a good effect: I would then have talked on other subjects +to the lady next me: but an Englishman cannot suddenly change the course +of his conversation. Mr L—— still persisted in asking a variety of +questions about this Polish fête. I excused myself: for if you satisfy +curiosity you are no longer sublime; besides it is so pedantic to +remember <i>accurately</i> anything one meets with in books. I assured him +that I had forgotten the particulars.</p> + +<p>My countrymen are wondrous persevering, when once roused. This morning, +when I came down to breakfast, I found Mr L—— with a volume of Coxe's +travels in his hand. He read aloud to Leonora the whole description of +the illuminated gardens, and of a Turkish tent of curious workmanship, +and of a pavilion supported by pillars ornamented with wreaths of +flowers. Leonora's birthday is some time in the next month; and her +husband, probably to prevent any disagreeable little feelings, proposed +that the <i>fête champêtre</i> he designed to give should be on that day. She +seemed rather to discourage the thing. Now to what should this +indifference be attributed? To jealousy I should positively decide, but +that two reasons oppose this idea, and keep me in doubt. She was not +within hearing at the moonlight conference, and knew nothing of my +having mentioned the Polish fête, or of her husband's having proposed to +illuminate the bridge for me. Besides, I remember the other day when +she was reading the new French novel you sent me, she expressed great +dislike to the sentimental fêtes which the lover prepares for his +mistress. I would give more than I dare tell you, my dear Gabrielle, to +be able to decide whether she is jealous of me or not. But where was +I?—Mr L——, who had set his heart upon the <i>fête champêtre</i>, +persisted, and combatted her antipathy by reason. Foolish man! he should +have tried compliments, or caresses—if I had not been present.</p> + +<p>"My dear Leonora," said he, "I think you carry your dislike to these +things too far. They are more according to the French than to the +English taste, I know; but we should not be influenced by national +prejudice. I detest the ostentation and the affectation of sentiment as +much as you can; but where the real feeling exists, every mode of +showing kindness is agreeable. You must let us have this little fête on +your birthday. Besides the pleasure it will give me, I really think it +is useful to mix ideas of affection with amusement."</p> + +<p>She smiled most graciously, and replied, that she would with pleasure +accept of kindness in any form from him. In short, she was willing to +have the fête, when it was clearly explained that she was to be the +object of it. Is not this proof positive of jealousy? And yet my +curiosity is not thoroughly satisfied. I must go on; for Leonora's sake +I must go on. When I have been assured of the truth, I shall know how to +conduct myself; and you, who know my heart, will do me the justice to +believe, that when I am convinced of my friend's weakness, I shall spare +it with the most delicate caution: but till I am convinced, I am in +perpetual danger of blundering by my careless, inadvertent innocence. +You smile, Gabrielle; dear malicious Gabrielle, even in your malice you +are charming! Adieu! Pray for the speedy extinction of my curiosity.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p>You say, my dearest mother, that of late my letters have been more +constrained and less cheerful than usual, and you conjure me not to +conceal from you anything which may concern my happiness. I have ever +found you my best and most indulgent friend, and there is not a thought +or feeling of my mind, however weak or foolish, that I desire to conceal +from you. No one in this world is more—is so much interested in my +happiness; and in every doubtful situation I have always been accustomed +to apply to your unerring judgment for assistance. Your strength of +mind, your enlightened affection, would support and direct me, would at +once show me how I ought to act, and inspire me with courage and +fortitude sufficient to be worthy of your esteem, and of my own. At no +period of my life, not even when my heart first felt the confused +sensations of a passion that was new to it, did I ever want or wish for +a friend so much as at this instant: and yet I hesitate whether I ought +to ask even your advice, whether I ought to indulge myself in speaking +of my feelings even to my mother. I refrained from giving the slightest +intimation of them to my dear Helen, though she often led to this +subject, and seemed vexed by my reserve. I thought it not right to +accept of her sympathy. From her kindness I had every consolation to +expect, but no assistance from her counsels, because she does not +understand Mr L——'s character, and I could plainly perceive that she +had an erroneous idea so fixed in her fancy, as to prevent her seeing +things in their true light. I am afraid of imputing blame where I most +wish to avoid it: I fear to excite unjust suspicions; I dread that if I +say the whole you will imagine that I mean much more than I say.</p> + +<p>I have not been quite well lately, and my mind probably is more apt to +be alarmed than it would be if my health were stronger. All that I +apprehend may exist merely in my own distempered imagination. Do not +then suppose others are to blame, when perhaps I only am in fault. I +have for some time past been dissatisfied with myself, and have had +reason to be so; I do not say this from any false humility; I despise +that affectation; but I say it with a sincere desire, that you may +assist me to cure myself of a weakness, which, if it were to grow upon +my mind, must render me miserable, and might destroy the happiness of +the person I love best upon earth. You know that I am not naturally or +habitually of a suspicious temper, but I am conscious of having lately +felt a disposition to jealousy. I have been spoiled by the excessive +attention which my husband paid to me in the first year of our marriage.</p> + +<p>You warned me not to fancy that he could continue always a lover. I did +not, at least I tried not to expect such an impossibility. I was +prepared for the change, at least I thought I was: yet now the time, the +inevitable time is come, and I have not the fortitude to bear it as I +ought. If I had never known what it was to possess his love, I might +perhaps be content with his friendship. If I could feel only friendship +for him, I should now, possibly, be happy. I know that I have the first +place in his esteem: I do believe—I should be miserable indeed if I +did not believe—that I have the first place in his affection. But this +affection is certainly different from what it once was. I wish I could +forget the difference. No: I retract that wish; however painful the +comparison, the recollection of times that are past is delightful to my +heart. Yet, my dear mother, if such times are never to return, it would +be better for me to forget that they have ever been. It would be wiser +not to let my imagination recur to the past, which could then tend only +to render me discontented with the present and with the future. The +<span class="smcap">future</span>! how melancholy that word sounds to me! What a dreary length of +prospect it brings to my view! How young I am, how many years may I have +to live, and how little motive have I left in life! Those which used to +act most forcibly upon me, have now scarcely power to move my mind. The +sense of duty, it is true, raises me to some degree of exertion; I hope +that I do not neglect the education of the two children whom my poor +sister bequeathed to my care. When my mind was at ease, they were my +delight; but now I feel that I am rather interrupted than interested by +their childish gaiety and amusements.</p> + +<p>I am afraid that I am growing selfish, and I am sure that I have become +shamefully indolent. I go on with certain occupations every day from +habit, not from choice; my mind is not in them. I used to flatter myself +that I did many things, from a sense of duty and of general benevolence, +which I am convinced were done merely from a particular wish to please, +and to make myself more and more beloved by the object of my fondest +affection. Disappointed in this hope, I sink into indolence, from which +the desire to entertain my friends is not sufficient to rouse me. Helen +has been summoned away; but I believe I told you that Mr and Mrs F**, +whose company is peculiarly agreeable to my taste, and Lady M***** and +her amiable daughters, and your witty friend *****, are with us. In such +society, I am ashamed of being stupid; yet I cannot contribute to the +amusement of the company, and I feel surprised at their animation and +sprightliness. It seems as if I was looking on at dances without hearing +any music. Sometimes I fear that my silence should be observed, and then +I begin to talk without well knowing what I am saying. I confine myself +to the most commonplace subjects, and hesitate, from the dread of saying +something quite foreign to the purpose. What must Mr L—— think of my +stupidity? But he does not, I believe, perceive it: he is so much +occupied with—with other objects. I am glad that he does not see all +that passes in my mind, for he might despise me if he knew that I am so +miserable. I did not mean to use so strong an expression; but now it is +written, I will not blot it out, lest you should fancy something worse +than the reality. I am not, however, yet so weak as to be seriously +<i>miserable</i> when I have no real cause to be so. The truth is——. Now +you know this phrase is a tacit confession that all that has been said +before is false. The real truth is——. By my prefacing so long you may +be sure that I have reason to be ashamed of this real truth's coming +out. The real truth is, that I have been so long accustomed to be the +first and <i>only</i> object of Mr L——'s thoughts, that I cannot bear to +see him think of anything else. Yes, <i>things</i> I can bear, but not +<i>persons</i>—female persons; and there is one person here who is so much +more agreeable and entertaining than I am, that she engrosses very +naturally almost all his attention. I am not <i>envious</i>, I am sure; for I +could once admire all Lady Olivia's talents and accomplishments, and no +one could be more charmed than I was with her fascinating manners and +irresistible powers of pleasing; but when those irresistible powers may +rob me of the heart of my beloved husband—of the whole happiness of my +life—how can I admire them? All I can promise is to preserve my mind +from the meanness of suspicion. I can do my rival justice. I can +believe, and entreat you to believe, that she does not wish to be my +rival: that she is perfectly innocent of all design to injure me, and +that she is not aware of the impression she has made. I, who know every +change of Mr L——'s countenance, every inflexion of his voice, every +turn of his mind, can see too plainly what she cannot discern. I should +indeed have thought, that no woman, whom he distinguished or preferred +in any degree, could avoid perceiving it, his manner is so expressive, +so flattering; but perhaps this appears so only to me—a woman who does +not love him may see things very differently. Lady Olivia can be in no +danger, because her heart, fortunately for me, is prepossessed in favour +of another; and a woman whose heart is occupied by one object is +absolutely blind, as I well know, to all others. With this security I +ought to be satisfied; for I believe no one inspires a lasting passion +without sharing it.</p> + +<p>I am summoned to give my opinion about certain illuminations and +decoration for a <i>fête champêtre</i> which Mr L—— is so kind as to give +in honour of my birthday—just at the time I am complaining of his +neglect!—--No, dear mother, I hope I have not complained of <i>him</i>, but +of <i>myself</i>:—and it is your business to teach your daughter to be more +reasonable. Write soon and fully to</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your affectionate</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>This fine fête champêtre is over.—Expect no description of it from me, +Gabrielle, for I am horribly out of humour. The whole pleasure of the +evening was destroyed by the most foolish circumstance imaginable. +Leonora's jealousy is now evident to more eyes than mine. No farther +doubt upon the subject can remain. My curiosity is satisfied; but I am +now left to reproach myself for having gone so far to ascertain what I +ought to have taken for granted. All these good English wives are +jealous; so jealous, that no one, who has any pretensions to beauty, +wit, or <i>amiability</i>, can live with them. They can have no <i>society</i> in +our sense of the word; of course they must live shut up in their own +dismal houses with their own stupid families, the faithful husband and +wife sitting opposite to each other in their own chimney corners, +yawning models of constancy. And this they call virtue! How the meanest +vices usurp the name of virtue! Leonora's is a jealousy of the most +illiberal and degrading species; a jealousy of the temper, not of the +heart. She is too cold to feel the passion of love.—She never could be +in love; of that I am certain. She is too reasonable, too prudish. +Besides, to imagine that she could be in love with her own husband, and +after eighteen months' marriage—the thing is absurd! the thing is +impossible! No, she deceives herself or him, or both, if she pretends +that her jealousy arises from love, from what you and I, Gabrielle, +understand by the word. Passion, and passion only, can plead a just +excuse for its own excesses. Were Leonora in love, I could pardon her +jealousy. But now I despise it. Yes, with all her high reputation, and +<i>imposing</i> qualities, I must think of her with contempt. And now that I +have given vent to my feelings with that freedom in which I ever indulge +myself in writing to you, my amiable Gabrielle, chosen friend of my +heart, I will compose myself, and give you a rational account of things.</p> + +<p>You know that I am said to have some taste. Leonora makes no pretensions +to any. Wishing, I suppose, that her fête should be as elegant as +possible, she consulted me about all the arrangements and decorations. +It was I that did everything. My skill and taste were admired by the +whole company, and especially by Mr L——. He was in remarkably good +spirits at the commencement of the evening; quite gay and gallant: he +certainly paid me a great deal of attention, and it was natural he +should; for besides being his guest, I was undoubtedly the most elegant +woman present. My fame had gone abroad; I found that I was the object of +general attention. To this I have been tolerably well accustomed all my +life; enough at least to prevent me from giving any visible sign of +being moved by admiration in whatever form it comes; whether in the +polite foreign glance, or the broad English stare. The starers enjoyed +their pleasure, and I mine: I moved and talked, I smiled or was pensive, +as though I saw them not; nevertheless the homage of their gaze was not +lost upon me. You know, my charming Gabrielle, one likes to observe the +<i>sensation</i> one produces amongst new people. The incense that I +perceived in the surrounding atmosphere was just powerful enough to +affect my nerves agreeably: that languor which you have so often +reproached me for indulging in the company of what we call +<i>indifferents</i> gradually dissipated; and, as poor R*** used to say of +me, I came from behind my cloud like the sun in all its glory. I was +such as you have seen me, Gabrielle, in my best days, in my best +moments, in my very best style. I wonder what would excite me to such a +waste of powers. L—— seemed inspired too: he really was quite +agreeable, and showed me off almost as well as R*** himself could have +done. I had no idea that he had this species of talent. You will never +know of what my countrymen are capable, for you are out of patience with +the statues the first half hour: now it takes an amazing time to animate +them; but they can be waked into life, and I have a pride in conquering +difficulties.—There were more men this night in proportion to the women +than one usually sees in English company, consequently it was more +agreeable. I was surrounded by an admiring audience, and my conversation +of course was sufficiently general to please all, and sufficiently +particular to distinguish the man whom I wished to animate. In all this +you will say there was nothing to put one out of humour, nothing very +mortifying:—but stay, my fair philosopher, do not judge of the day till +you see its end.—Leonora was so hid from my view by the crowd of +adorers, that I really did not discern her, or suspect her jealousy. I +was quite natural; I thought only of myself; I declined all invitations +to dance, declaring that it was so long since I had tried an English +country dance, that I dared not expose my awkwardness. French country +dances were mentioned, but I preferred conversation. At last L—— +persecuted me to try a Polish dance with him—a multitude of voices +overpowered me. I have not the talent which some of my countrywomen +possess in such perfection, of being obstinate about trifles. When I can +refuse with grace, 'tis well; but when that is no longer possible, it is +my principle, or my weakness, to yield. I was surprised to find that +L—— danced admirably. I became animated. You know how dancing animates +me, when I have a partner who <i>can</i> dance—a thing not very common in +this country. We ended by <i>waltzing</i>, first in the Polish, and +afterwards in the Parisian manner. I certainly surpassed myself—I flew, +I was borne upon the wings of the wind, I floated on the notes of the +music. Animated or languid in every gradation of grace and sentiment, I +abandoned myself to the inspiration of the moment; I was all soul, and +the spectators were all admiration. To you, my Gabrielle, I may speak +thus of myself without vanity: you know the sensation I was accustomed +to produce at Paris; you may guess then what the effect must be here, +where such a style of dancing has all the captivation of novelty. Had I +doubted that my <i>success</i> was complete, I should have been assured of it +by the faces of some prudes among the matrons, who affected to think +that the waltz was <i>too much</i>. As L—— was leading, or rather +supporting me to my seat, for I was quite exhausted, I overheard a +gentleman, who was at no great distance from the place where Leonora was +standing, whisper to his neighbour, "Le Valse extrême est la volupté +permise." I fancy Leonora overheard these words, as well as myself, for +my eyes met hers at this instant, and she coloured, and directly looked +another way. L—— neither heard nor saw anything of all this: he was +intent upon procuring me a seat; and an Englishman can never see or +think of two things at a time. A few minutes afterwards, whilst he was +fanning me, a young awkward peasant girl, quite a stranger in this +country, came up to me, and dropping her novice curtsy, said, "Here's a +ring, my lady, I found on the grass; they tell me it is yours, my lady!"</p> + +<p>"No, my good girl, it is not mine," said I.</p> + +<p>"It is Lady Leonora's," said Mr L——.</p> + +<p>At the sound of her name Leonora came forward.</p> + +<p>The girl looked alternately at us.</p> + +<p>"Can you doubt," cried Colonel A——, "which of these ladies is Mr +L——'s wife?"</p> + +<p>"O no, sir; this is she, <i>to be sure</i>," said the girl, pointing to me.</p> + +<p>What there was in the girl's accent, or in L——'s look, when she +pronounced the words, or in mine, or in all three together, I cannot +exactly describe; but Leonora felt it. She turned as pale as death. I +looked as unconscious as I could. L—— went on fanning me, without +seeing his wife's change of countenance. Leonora—would you believe +it?—sank upon a bench behind us, and fainted. How her husband started, +when he felt her catch by his arm as she fell! He threw down the fan, +left me, ran for water—"O, Lady Leonora! Lady Leonora is ill!" +exclaimed every voice. The consternation was wonderful. They carried her +ladyship to a spot where she could have free air. I was absolutely in an +instant left alone, and seemingly as much forgotten as if I had never +existed! I was indeed so much astonished, that I could not stir from the +place where I stood; till recollecting myself, I pushed my way through +the crowd, and came in view of Leonora just as she opened her eyes. As +soon as she came to herself, she made an effort to stand, saying that +she was quite well again, but that she would go into the house and +repose herself for a few minutes. As she rose, a hundred arms were +offered at once to her assistance. She stepped forward; and to my +surprise, and I believe to the surprise of everybody else, took mine, +made a sign to her husband not to follow us, and walked quickly towards +the house. Her woman, with a face of terror, met us, as we were going +into Lady Leonora's apartment, with salts and hartshorn, and I know not +what in her hands.</p> + +<p>"I am quite well, quite well again; I do not want anything; I do not +want anything. I do not want you, Mason," said Leonora. "Lady Olivia is +so good as to assist me. I am come in only to rest for a few minutes."</p> + +<p>The woman gave me an evil look, and left the room. Never did I wish +anything more than that she should have staid. I was absolutely so +embarrassed, so distressed, when I found myself alone with Leonora, that +I knew not what to say. I believe I began with a sentence about the +night air, that was very little to the purpose. The sight of some +baby-linen which the maid had been making suggested to me something +which I thought more appropriate.</p> + +<p>"My dear creature!" said I, "why will you fatigue yourself so terribly, +and stand so much and so long in your situation?"</p> + +<p>Leonora neither accepted nor rejected my interpretation of what had +passed. She made no reply; but fixed her eyes upon me as if she would +have read my very soul. Never did I see or feel eyes so expressive or so +powerful as hers were at this moment. Mine absolutely fell beneath them. +What deprived me of presence of mind I know not; but I was utterly +without common sense. I am sure I changed colour, and Leonora must have +seen it through my rouge, for I had only the slightest tinge upon my +cheeks. The consciousness that she saw me blush disconcerted me beyond +recovery; it is really quite unaccountable: I trembled all over as I +stood before her; I was forced to have recourse to the hartshorn and +water, which stood upon the table. Leonora rose and threw open the +window to give me fresh air. She pressed my hand, but rather with an air +of forgiveness than of affection; I was mortified and vexed; but my +pride revived me.</p> + +<p>"We had better return to the company as soon as possible, I believe," +said she, looking down at the moving crowd below.</p> + +<p>"I am ready to attend you, my dear," said I coldly, "whenever you feel +yourself sufficiently rested and composed."</p> + +<p>She left the room, and I followed. You have no idea of the solicitude +with which the people hoped she was <i>better</i>—and <i>well</i>—and <i>quite +well</i>, &c. What amazing importance a fainting fit can sometimes bestow! +Her husband seemed no longer to have any eyes or soul but for her. At +supper, and during the rest of the night, she occupied the whole +attention of everybody present. Can you conceive anything so provoking? +But L—— must be an absolute fool!—Did he never see a woman faint +before?—He cannot pretend to be in love with his wife—I do not +understand it.—But this I know, that he has been totally different in +his manner towards me these three days past.</p> + +<p>And now that my curiosity is satisfied about Leonora's jealousy, I shall +absolutely perish with ennui in this stupid place. Adieu, dearest +Gabrielle! How I envy you! The void of my heart is insupportable. I must +have some passion to keep me alive. Forward any letters from poor R***, +if he has written under cover to you.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>The Duchess of —— to her daughter.</i></h3> + + +<p>Take courage, my beloved daughter; take courage. Have a just confidence +in yourself and in your husband. For a moment he may be fascinated by +the arts of an unprincipled woman; for a moment she may triumph over his +senses, and his imagination; but of his esteem, his affection, his +heart, she cannot rob you. These have been, ought to be, will be yours. +Trust to your mother's prophecy, my child. You may trust to it securely: +for, well as she loves you—and no mother ever loved a daughter +better—she does not soothe you with mere words of doting fondness; she +speaks to you the language of reason and of truth.</p> + +<p>I know what such a man as Mr L—— must esteem and love; I know of what +such a woman as my daughter is capable, when her whole happiness, and +the happiness of all that is dear to her, are at stake. The loss of +temporary admiration and power, the transient preference shown to a +despicable rival, will not provoke you to imprudent reproach, nor sink +you to helpless despair. The arts of an Olivia might continue to deceive +your husband, if he were a fool; or to please him, if he were a +libertine: but he has a heart formed for love, he cannot therefore be a +libertine: he is a man of superior abilities, and knows women too well +to be a dupe. With a penetrating and discriminative judgment of +character, he is a nice observer of female manners; his taste is +delicate even to excess; under a cold exterior he has a vivid +imagination and strong sensibility; he has little vanity, but a +superabundance of pride; he wishes to be ardently loved, but this he +conceals; it is difficult to convince him that he is beloved, and +scarcely possible to satisfy him by any common proofs of attachment. A +coquette will never attach Mr L——. The admiration which others might +express for her charms and accomplishments would never pique him to +competition: far from seeking "to win her praise whom all admire," he +would disdain to enter the lists with the vulgar multitude: a heart in +which he had a probability of holding only divided empire would not +appear to him worth the winning. As a coquette whatever may be her +talents, graces, accomplishments, and address, you have nothing +seriously to fear from Lady Olivia.</p> + +<p>But, my dear, Mr L——'s mind may be in a situation to require +amusement. That species of apathy which succeeds to passion is not, as +the inexperienced imagine, the death of love, but the necessary and +salutary repose from which it awakens refreshed and revived. Mr L——'s +passion for you has been not only tender, but violent, and the calm +which inevitably succeeds should not alarm you.</p> + +<p>When a man feels that his fondness for a wife is suspended, he is uneasy +in her company, not only from the sense of decreased pleasure, but from +the fear of her observation and detection. If she reproach him, affairs +become worse; he blames himself, he fears to give pain whenever he is in +her presence: if he attempt to conceal his feelings, and to appear what +he is no longer—a lover, his attempts are awkward; he becomes more and +more dissatisfied with himself; and the person who compels him to this +hypocrisy, who thus degrades him in his own eyes, must certainly be in +danger of becoming an object of aversion. A wife, who has sense enough +to abstain from all reproaches, direct or indirect, by word or look, may +reclaim her husband's affections: the bird escapes from his cage, but +returns to his nest.</p> + +<p>I am glad that you have agreeable company at your house; they will amuse +Mr L——, and relieve you from the necessity of taking a share in any +conversation that you dislike. Our witty friend ***** will supply your +share of conversation; and as to your silence, remember that witty +people are always content with those who <i>act audience</i>.</p> + +<p>I rejoice that you persist in your daily occupations. To a mind like +yours, the sense of performing your duty will, next to religion, be the +firmest support upon which you can rely.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, my dear, even when you read this, you will still be inclined to +justify Lady Olivia, and to conceal from your heart the suspicions which +her conduct excites. I am not surprised that you should find it +difficult to believe that one to whom you have behaved so generously +should treat you with treachery and ingratitude. I am not surprised, +that you who feel what it is to love, should think that a woman whose +heart is occupied by attachment to one object must be incapable of +thinking of any other. But love in such a heart as yours is totally +different from what it is in the fancy of these heroines. In their +imagination the objects are as fleeting as the pictures in the clouds +chased by the wind.</p> + +<p>From Lady Olivia expect nothing; depend only on yourself. When you +become, as you soon must, completely convinced that the woman in whom +your unsuspecting soul confided is utterly unworthy of your esteem, +refrain from all imprudent expressions of indignation. I despise—you +will soon hate—your rival; but in the moment of detection think of what +is due to yourself, and act as calmly as if you had never loved her. She +will suffer no pain from the loss of your friendship: she has not a +heart that can value it. Probably she is envious of you. All these women +desire to mortify those whom they cannot degrade to their own level: and +I am inclined to suspect that this malevolent feeling, joined to the +want of occupation, may be the cause of her present conduct. Her +manoeuvres will not ultimately succeed. She will be deserted by Mr +L——, disappointed and disgraced, and your husband will be more yours +than ever. When this happy moment comes, my Leonora; when your husband +returns, preferring yours to all other society, then will be the time to +exert all your talents, all your charms, to prove your superiority in +everything, but most in love. The soothings of female tenderness, in +certain situations, have power not only to calm the feelings of +self-reproach, but to diffuse delight over the soul of man. The oil, +which the skilful mariner throws upon the sea, not only smooths the +waves in the storm, but when the sun shines, spreads the most beautiful +colours over the surface of the waters.</p> + +<p>My dear daughter, though your mother writes seemingly at her ease, you +must not fancy that she does not feel for you. Do not imagine, that in +the coldness of extinguished passions, and in the pride of counselling +age, your mother expects to charm agony with words. No, my child, I am +not so absurd, so cruel. Your letter forced tears from eyes, which are +not used like sentimental eyes to weep upon every trifling occasion. My +first wish was to set out immediately to see you; but whatever +consolation or pleasure my company might afford, I believe it might be +disadvantageous to you in your present circumstances. I could not be an +hour in the room with this Lady Olivia, without showing some portion of +the indignation and contempt that I feel for her conduct. This warmth of +mine might injure you in your husband's opinion. Though you would have +too strong a sense of propriety, and too much dignity of mind, to make +complaints of your husband to me, or to any one living; yet it might be +supposed that your mother was your confidante in secret, and your +partisan in public: this might destroy your domestic happiness. No +husband can or ought to endure the idea of his wife's caballing against +him. I admire and shall respect your dignified silence.</p> + +<p>And now fare you well, my dearest child. May God bless you! If a +mother's prayers could avail, you would be the happiest of human beings. +I do, without partiality, believe you to be one of the best and most +amiable of women.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p>Had your letter, my dearest mother, reached me a few hours sooner, I +should not have exposed myself as I have done.</p> + +<p>Yesterday, at our <i>fête champêtre</i>, you would have been ashamed of me. I +am ashamed of myself. I did the very reverse of what I ought, of what I +would have done, if I had been fortified by your counsel. Instead of +being calm and dignified, I was agitated beyond all power of control. I +lost all presence of mind, all common sense, all recollection.</p> + +<p>I know your contempt for swooning heroines. What will you say, when you +hear that your daughter fainted—fainted in public? I believe, however, +that, as soon as I recovered, I had sufficient command over myself to +prevent the accident from being attributed to—to—to the real cause, +and I hope that the very moment I came to my recollection, my manner +towards Lady Olivia was such as to preclude all possibility of her being +blamed or even suspected. From living much abroad, she has acquired a +certain freedom of manner, and latitude of thinking, which expose her to +suspicion; but of all serious intention to injure me, or to pass the +bounds of propriety, I totally acquit her. She is not to blame for the +admiration she excites, nor is she to be the sufferer for my weakness +of mind or of health.</p> + +<p>Great and unreasonable folly I am sure I showed—but I shall do so no +more.</p> + +<p>The particular circumstances I need not explain: you may be assured, +that wherever I think it right to be silent, nothing shall tempt me to +speak: but I understood, by the conclusion of your letter, that you +expect me to preserve an absolute silence upon this subject in future: +this I will not promise. I cannot conceive that I, who do not mean to +injure any human being, ought, because I am unhappy, and when I am most +in want of a friend, to be precluded from the indulgence of speaking of +what is nearest my heart to that dear, safe, most enlightened, and +honourable of friends, who has loved, guided, instructed, and encouraged +me in everything that is right from my infancy. Why should I be refused +all claim to sympathy? why must my thoughts and feelings be shut up in +my own breast? and why must I be an isolated being, prescribed from +commerce with my own family, with my beloved mother, to whom I have been +accustomed to tell every feeling and idea as they rose? No; to all that +is honourable I will strictly conform; but by the superstition of +prudence I do not hold myself bound.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be kinder than my husband's conduct to me the evening +after I was taken ill. He left home early this morning; he is gone to +meet his friend, General B——, who has just returned from abroad. I +hope that Mr L—— will be absent only a few days; for it would be fatal +to my happiness if he should find amusement at a distance from home. His +home at all events shall never be made a cage to him; when he returns I +will exert myself to the utmost to make it agreeable. This I hope can be +done without obtruding my company upon him, or putting myself in +competition with any person. I could wish that some fortunate accident +might induce Lady Olivia to leave us before Mr L——'s return. Had I the +same high opinion of her generosity that I once formed, had I the same +perfect confidence in her integrity and in her friendship for me, I +would go this moment and tell her all that passes in my heart: no +humiliation of my vanity would cost me anything if it could serve the +interests of my love; no mean pride could stand in my mind against the +force of affection. But there is a species of pride which I cannot, will +not renounce—believing, as I do, that it is the companion, the friend, +the support of virtue. This pride, I trust, will never desert me: it has +grown with my growth; it was implanted in my character by the education +which my dear mother gave me; and now, even by her it cannot be +eradicated. Surely I have misunderstood one passage in your letter: you +cannot advise your daughter to restrain just indignation against vice +from any motive of policy or personal interest. You say to me, "In the +moment of detection think of what is due to yourself, and act as calmly +as if you had never loved her." If I <i>could</i>, I would not do this. +Contempt shown by virtue is the just punishment of vice, a punishment +which no selfish consideration should mitigate. If I were convinced that +Lady Olivia were guilty, would you have me behave to her as if I +believed her to be innocent? My countenance, my voice, my principles, +would revolt from such mean and pernicious hypocrisy, degrading to the +individual, and destructive to society.</p> + +<p>May I never more see the smile of love on the lips of my husband, nor +its expression in his eyes, if I do so degrade myself in my own opinion +and in his! Yes, in his; for would not he, would not any man of sense +or delicacy, recur to that idea so common with his sex, and so just, +that if a woman will sacrifice her sense of honour to her passions in +one instance, she may in another? Would he not argue, "If she will do +this for me because she is in love with me, why not for a new favourite, +if time or accident should make me less an object of passion?" No; I may +lose his love—this would be my misfortune: but to forfeit his esteem +would be my fault; and, under the remorse which I should then have to +endure, I am persuaded that no power of art or nature could sustain my +existence.</p> + +<p>So much for myself. As to the general good of society, that, I confess, +is not at this moment the uppermost consideration in my mind; but I will +add a few words on that subject, lest you should imagine me to be +hurried away by my own feelings. Public justice and reason are, I think, +on my side. What would become of the good order of society or the +decency of families, if every politic wife were to receive or invite, or +permit her husband's mistress to reside in her house? What would become +of conjugal virtue in either sex, if the wife were in this manner not +only to connive at the infidelity of her husband, but to encourage and +provide for his inconsistency? If she enters into bonds of amity and +articles of partnership with her rival, with that person by whom she has +been most injured, instead of being the dignified sufferer, she becomes +an object of contempt.</p> + +<p>My dearest mother, my most respected friend, my sentiments on this +subject cannot essentially differ from yours. I must have mistaken your +meaning. Pray write quickly, and tell me so; and forgive, if you cannot +approve of, the warmth with which I have spoken.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">I am your truly affectionate</p> +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">And grateful daughter,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>My amiable Gabrielle, I must be faithful to my promise of writing to you +every week, though this place affords nothing new either in events or +sentiment. Mr L——'s absence made this castle insupportably dull. A few +days ago he returned home, and met me with an easy kind of indifference, +provoking enough to a woman who has been accustomed to excite some +sensation. However, I was rejoiced at this upon Leonora's account. She +was evidently delighted, and her spirits and affections seemed to +overflow involuntarily upon all around her; even to me her manner became +quite frank and cordial, almost caressing. She is really handsome when +she is animated, and her conversation this evening quite surprised me. I +saw something of that playfulness, those light touches, that versatility +of expression, those words that mean more than meet the ear; everything, +in short, that could charm in the most polished foreign society. Leonora +seemed to be inspired with all the art of conversation by the simple +instinct of affection. What astonished me most was the grace with which +she introduced some profound philosophical remarks. "Such pearls," said +Mr L——, "come from the deep."</p> + +<p>With all these talents, what might not Leonora be in proper hands! But +now she is nothing except to her husband and a few intimate friends. +However, this is not my affair. Let me go on to what concerns myself. +You may believe, my dear Gabrielle, that I piqued myself upon showing at +least as much easy indifference as was shown to me: freedom encourages +freedom. As there was no danger of my being too amiable, I did not think +myself bound in honour or sentiment to keep myself in the shade; but I +could not be as brilliant as you have seen me at your <i>soirées</i>: the +magic circle of adorers, the inspiring power of numbers, the éclat of +public <i>representation</i>, were wanting. I retired to my own apartment at +night, quite out of humour with myself; and Josephine, as she undressed +me, put me still further out of patience by an ill-timed history of a +dispute she has had with Leonora's Swiss servant. The Swiss and +Josephine, it seems, came to high words in defence of their mistresses' +charms. Josephine provoked the Swiss by saying, that his lady might +possibly be handsome if she were dressed in the French taste; <i>mais +qu'elle étoit bien Angloise</i>, and would be quite another thing if she +had been at Paris. The Swiss retorted by observing, that Josephine's +lady had indeed learnt in perfection at Paris <i>the art of making herself +up</i>, which was quite necessary to a beauty <i>un peu passée</i>. The words +were not more agreeable to me than they had been to Josephine. I wonder +at her assurance in repeating them—"Un peu passée!" Many a woman in +England, ten, fifteen years older than I am, has inspired a violent +passion; and it has been observed, that power is retained by these +mature charmers, longer than conquest can be preserved by inexperienced +beauties. There are women who have learnt to combine, for their own +advantage, and for that of their captives, all the pleasure and +<i>conveniences</i> of society, all that a thorough knowledge of the world +can give—women who have a sufficient attention to appearances, joined +to a real contempt of all prejudices, especially that of +constancy—women who possess that knowledge of the human heart, which +well compensates transient bloom; who add the expression of sentiment to +beautiful features, and who employ</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gay smiles to comfort, April showers to move,</span> +<span class="i0"> And all the nature, all the art of Love."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>—"Un peu passée!" The Swiss is impertinent, and knows nothing of the +matter. His master knows but little more. He would, however, know +infinitely more if I could take the trouble to instruct him; to which I +am almost tempted for want of something better to do. Adieu, my +Gabrielle. R***'s silence is perfectly incomprehensible.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxx.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>So, my amiable Gabrielle, you are really interested in my letters, +<i>though written during my English exile</i>, and you are curious to know +whether any of my <i>potent spells</i> can wake into life this man of marble. +I candidly confess you would inspire me with an ambition to raise my +poor countrymen in your opinion, if I were not restrained by the sacred +sentiment of friendship, which forbids me to rival Leonora <i>even</i> in a +husband's opinion.</p> + +<p>However, Josephine, who feels herself a party concerned ever since her +battle with the Swiss, has piqued herself upon dressing me with +exquisite taste. I am every day <i>mise à ravir</i>!—and with such +perfection of art, that no art appears—all is negligent simplicity. I +let Josephine please herself; for you know I am not bound to be +frightful because I have a friend whose husband may chance to turn his +eye upon my figure, when he is tired of admiring hers. I rallied +L——the other day upon his having no eyes or ears but for his wife. Be +assured I did it in such a manner, that he could not be angry. Then I +went on to a comparison between the <i>facility</i> of French and English +society. He admitted that there was some truth and more wit in my +observations. I was satisfied. With these reasonable men, the grand +point for a woman is to amuse them—they can have logic from their own +sex. But, my Gabrielle, I am summoned to the <i>salon</i>, and must finish my +letter another day.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Heaven! can it be a fortnight since I wrote a line to my +Gabrielle!—Where was I?—"With these reasonable men the grand point for +a woman is to amuse them." True—most true! L——, believing himself +only amused with my lively nonsense, indulged himself with it +continually. I was to believe only what he believed. Presently he could +not do without my conversation for more than two hours together. What +was I to do, my Gabrielle? I walked out to avoid him. He found me in the +woods—rallied me on my taste for solitude, and quoted Voltaire.</p> + +<p>This led to a metaphysical conversation, half playful, half +serious:—the distinction which a man sometimes makes to his conscience +between thinking a woman entertaining, and feeling her interesting, +vanishes more easily, and more rapidly, than he is aware of—at least in +certain situations. This was not an observation I could make to my +companion in the woods, and he certainly did not make it for himself. It +would have been vanity in me to have broken off our conversation, lest +he should fall in love with me—it would have been blindness not to have +seen that he was in some danger. I thought of Leonora—and sighed—and +did all that was in my power to put him upon his guard. By way of +preservative, I frankly made him a confession of my attachment to R***. +This I imagined would put things upon a right footing for ever; but, on +the contrary, by convincing him of my innocence, and of my having no +designs on his heart, this candour has, I fear, endangered him still +more; yet I know not what to think—his manner is so variable towards +me—I must be convinced of what his sentiments are before I can decide +what my conduct ought to be. Adieu, my amiable Gabrielle; I wait for +something decisive with an inexpressible degree of anxiety—I will not +now call it curiosity.—Apropos, does R*** wish that I should forget +that he exists? What is this business that detains him? But why do I +condescend to inquire?</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxi.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">London.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear L——</span>,</p></div> + +<p>I send you the horse to which you took a fancy. He has killed one of his +grooms, and lamed two; but you will be his master, and I hope he will +know it.</p> + +<p>I have a word to say to you on a more serious subject. Pardon me if I +tell you that I think you are a happy man, and excuse me if I add, that +if you do not keep yourself so I shall not think you a wise one. A good +wife is better than a good-for-nothing mistress.—A self-evident +proposition!—A stupid truism! Yes; but if every man who knows a +self-evident proposition when he sees it on paper always acted as if he +knew it, this would be a very wise and a very happy world; and I should +not have occasion to write this letter.</p> + +<p>You say that you are only amusing yourself at the expense of a finished +coquette; take care that she does not presently divert herself at +yours.——"<i>You are proof against French coquetry and German +sentiment.</i>"——Granted—but a fine woman?—and your own vanity?—But +you have no vanity.——You call it pride then, I suppose. I will not +quarrel with you for a name. Pride, properly managed, will do your +business as well as vanity. And no doubt Lady Olivia knows this as well +as I do. I hope you may never know it better.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">I am, my dear friend,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Truly yours,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>Advise me, dearest Gabrielle; I am in a delicate situation; and on your +judgment and purity of heart I have the most perfect reliance. Know, +then, that I begin to believe that Leonora's jealousy was not so +absolutely absurd as I at first supposed. She understood her husband +better than I did. I begin to fear that I have made a serious impression +whilst I meant only to amuse myself. Heaven is my witness, I simply +intended to satisfy my curiosity, and that once gratified, it was my +determination to respect the weakness I discovered. To love Leonora, as +once I imagined I could, is out of my power; but to disturb her peace, +to destroy her happiness, to make use of the confidence she has reposed +in me, the kindness she has shown by making me an inmate of her +house—my soul shudders at these ideas. No—if her husband really loves +me I will fly. Leonora shall see that Olivia is incapable of +treachery—that Olivia has a soul generous and delicate as her own, +though free from the prejudices by which she is fettered. To Leonora a +husband is a lover—I shall consider him as such, and respect her +<i>property</i>. You are so little used, my dear Gabrielle, to consider a +husband in this point of view, that you will scarcely enter into my +feelings: but put yourself in my situation, allow for nationality of +principle, and I am persuaded you would act as I shall. Spare me your +raillery; seriously, if Leonora's husband is in love with me, would you +not advise me, my dearest friend, to fly him, "far as pole from pole?" +Write to me, I conjure you, my Gabrielle—write instantly, and tell me +whether R*** is now at Paris. I will return thither immediately if you +advise it. My mind is in such confusion, I have no power to decide; I +will be guided by your advice.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxiij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris.</p> + +<p>Advice! my charming Olivia! do you ask me for advice? I never gave or +took advice in my life, except for <i>les vapeurs noirs</i>. And your +understanding is so far superior to mine, and you comprehend the +characters of these English so much better than I do, that I cannot +pretend to counsel you. This Lady Leonora is inconceivable with her +passion for her own husband; but how ridiculous to let it be suspected! +If her heart is so tender, cannot she, with all her charms, find a lover +on whom to bestow it, without tormenting that poor Mr L——. Evidently +he is tired of her: and I am sure I should be worn to death were I in +his place. Nothing so tiresome as love without mystery and without +obstacles. And this must ever be the case with conjugal love. Eighteen +months married, I think you say, and Lady Leonora expects her husband to +be still at her feet! And she wishes it! Truly she is the most +unreasonable woman upon earth—and the most extraordinary: but I am +tired of thinking of what I cannot comprehend.</p> + +<p>Let us pass on to Mr L——. By your last letters I should judge that he +might be an agreeable man if his wife were out of the question. +Matrimonial jealousy is a new idea to me; I can judge of it only by +analogy. In affairs of gallantry I have sometimes seen one of the +parties continue to love when the other has become indifferent, and then +they go on tormenting one another and being miserable, because they have +not the sense to see that a fire cannot be made of ashes. Sometimes I +have found romantic young people persuade themselves that they can love +no more because they can love one another no longer; but if they had +sufficient courage to say—I am tired—and I cannot help it—they would +come to a right understanding immediately, and part on the best terms +possible; each eager to make a new choice, and to be again in love and +happy. All this to be done with decency, of course. And if there be no +scandal, where is the harm? Can it signify to the universe whether Mons. +Un-tel likes Mad. Une-telle or Mad. Une-autre? Provided there is love +enough, all the world is in good humour, and that is the essential +point; for without good humour, what becomes of the pleasures of +society? As to the rest, I think of inconstancy, or <i>infidelity</i> as it +is called, much as our good La Fontaine did—"Quand on le sait c'est peu +de chose—quand on ne le sait pas ce n'est rien."</p> + +<p>To promise to love one person eternally! What a terrible engagement! It +freezes my heart even to think of it. I am persuaded, that if I were +bound to love him for life, I should detest the most amiable man upon +earth in ten minutes—a husband more especially. Good Heavens! how I +should abhor M. de P—— if I saw him in this point of view. On the +contrary, now I love him infinitely—that is to say, as one loves a +husband. I have his interest at heart, and his glory. When I thought he +was going to prison I was in despair. I was at home to no one but +<i>Brave-et-Tendre</i>, and to him only to consult on the means of obtaining +my husband's pardon. M. de P—— is sensible of this, and on my part I +have no reason to complain of his liberality. We are perfectly happy, +though we meet perhaps but for a few minutes in the day; and is not this +better than tiring one another for four-and-twenty hours? When I grow +old—if ever I do—he will be my best friend. In the meantime I support +his credit with all my influence. This very morning I concluded an +affair for him, which never could have succeeded, if the intimate friend +of the minister had not been also my lover. Now, why cannot your Lady +Leonora and her Mr L—— live on the same sort of terms? But if English +manners will not permit of this, I have nothing more to say. Above all +things a woman must respect opinion, else she cannot be well received in +the world. I conclude this is the secret of Lady Leonora's conduct. But +then jealousy!—no woman, I suppose, is bound, even in England, to be +jealous in order to show her love for her husband. I lose myself again +in trying to understand what is incomprehensible.</p> + +<p>As to you, my dear Olivia, you also amaze me by talking of <i>crimes</i> and +<i>horror</i>, and <i>flying from pole to pole</i> to avoid a man because you have +made him at last find out that he has a heart! You have done him the +greatest possible service: it may preserve him perhaps from hanging +himself next November—that month in which, according to Voltaire's +philosophical calendar, Englishmen always hang themselves, because the +atmosphere is so thick and their ennui so heavy. Lady Leonora, if she +really loves her husband, ought to be infinitely obliged to you for +averting this danger. As to the rest, your heart is not concerned, so +you can have nothing to fear; and as for a platonic attachment on the +part of Mr L——, his wife, even according to her own rigid principles, +cannot blame you.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my charming friend! Instead of laughing at your fit of prudery, I +ought to encourage your scruples, that I might profit by them. If they +should bring you to Paris immediately, with what joy should I embrace my +Olivia, and how much gratitude should I owe to the jealousy of Lady +Leonora L——!</p> + +<p>R*** is not yet returned. When I have any news to give you of him, +depend upon it you shall hear from me again. Accept, my interesting +Olivia, the vows of my most tender and eternal friendship.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxiv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">L—— Castle, Tuesday.</p> + +<p>Your charming letter, my Gabrielle, has at once revived my spirits and +dissipated all my scruples; you mistake, however, in supposing that +Leonora is in love with her husband: more and more reason have I every +hour to be convinced that Leonora has never known the passion of love; +consequently her jealousy was, as I at first pronounced it to be, the +selfish jealousy of matrimonial power and property. Else why does it +subside, why does it vanish, when, if it were a jealousy of the heart, +it has now more provocation, infinitely more than when it appeared in +full force? Leonora could see that her husband distinguished me at a +<i>fête champêtre</i>; she could see what the eyes of others showed her; she +could hear what envy whispered, or what scandal hinted; she was +mortified, she was alarmed even to fainting by a public preference, by a +silly country girl's mistaking me for <i>the wife</i>, and doing homage to me +as to the lady of the manor; but Leonora cannot perceive in the object +of her affection the symptoms that mark the rise and progress of <i>a real +love</i>. Leonora feels not the little strokes, which would be fatal blows +to the peace of a truly delicate mind; she heeds not "the trifles light +as air," which would be confirmation strong to a soul of genuine +sensibility. My influence over the mind of L—— increases rapidly, and +I shall let it rise to its acmè before I seem to notice it. Leonora, +reassured, I suppose, by a few flattering words, and more perhaps by an +exalted opinion of her own merit, has lately appeared quite at her ease, +and blind to all that passes before her eyes. It is not for me to +dissipate this illusion prematurely—it is not for me to weaken this +confidence in her husband. To an English wife this would be death. Let +her foolish security then last as long as possible. After all, how much +anguish of heart, how many pangs of conscience, how much of the torture +of pity, am I spared by this callous temper in my friend! I may indulge +in a little harmless coquetry without danger to her peace, and without +scruple enjoy the dear possession of power.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Say, for you know," charming Gabrielle, what is the delight of +obtaining power over the human heart? Let the lords of the creation +boast of their power to govern all things; to charm these governors be +ours. Let the logicians of the earth boast their power to regulate the +world by reason; be it ours, Gabrielle, to intoxicate and humble proud +reason to the dust beneath our feet.—And who shall blame in us this +ardour for universal dominion? If they are men, I call them tyrants—if +they are women, I call them hypocrites—and the two vices which I most +detest are tyranny and hypocrisy. Frankly I confess, that I feel in all +its restless activity the passion for general admiration. I cannot +conceive—can you, Gabrielle?—a pleasure more transporting than the +perception of extended and extending dominion. The struggle of the rebel +heart for freedom makes the war more tempting, the victory more +glorious, the triumph more splendid. Secure of your sympathy, ma belle +Gabrielle, I shall not fear to tire you by my commentaries.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Male coquetry justifies female retaliation to any imaginable extent. +Upon this principle, on which I have seen you act so often, and so +successfully, I shall now intrepidly proceed. This man makes a show of +resistance; be it at his own peril: he thinks that he is gaining power +over my heart, whilst I am preparing torments for his; he fancies that +he is throwing chains round me, whilst I am rivetting fetters from which +he will in vain attempt to escape. He is proud, and has the insanity of +desiring to be exclusively beloved, yet affects to set no value upon the +preference that is shown to him; appears satisfied with his own +approbation, and stoically all-sufficient to his own happiness. Leonora +does not know how to manage his temper, but I do. The suspense, however, +in which he keeps me is tantalizing: he shall pay for it hereafter: I +had no idea, till lately, that he had so much self-command. At times he +has actually made me doubt my own power. At certain moments I have been +half tempted to believe that I had made no serious impression, that he +had been only amusing himself at my expense, and for Leonora's +gratification: but upon careful and cool observation I am convinced that +his indifference is affected, that all his stoicism will prove vain. The +arrow is lodged in his heart, and he must fall, whether he turns upon +the enemy in anger, or flies in dismay.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>My pride is exasperated. I am not accustomed to such obstinate +resistance. I really almost hate this invincible man, and—strange +inconsistency of the human heart!—almost love him. Heaven and pride +preserve me from such a weakness! But there is certainly something that +piques and stimulates one's feelings in this species of male coquetry. +L——understands the business better than I thought he could. One moment +my knowledge of the arts of his sex puts me on my guard; the next my +sensibility exposes me in the most terrible manner. Experience ought to +protect me, but it only shows me the peril and my inability to escape. +Ah! Gabrielle, without a heart how safe we should be, how dangerous to +our lovers! But cursed with sensibility, we must, alas! submit to our +fate. The habit of loving, <i>le besoin d'aimer</i>, is more powerful than +all sense of the folly and the danger. Nor is the tempest of the +passions so dreadful as the dead calm of the soul. Why did R*** suffer +my soul to sink into this ominous calm? The fault is his; let him abide +the consequence. Why did he not follow me to England? Why did he not +write to me? or when he did write, why were his letters so cold, so +spiritless? When I spoke of divorce, why did he hesitate? Why did he +reason when he should have only felt? Tell him, my tender, my delicate +friend, these are questions which the heart asks, and which the heart +only can answer. Adieu.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris.</p> + +<p>Je suis excedée! mon coeur. Alive, and but just alive, after such a day +of fatigues! All morning from one minister to another! then home to my +toilette! then a great dinner with a number of foreigners, each to be +distinguished—then au Feydeau, where I was obliged to go to support +poor S——'s play. It would be really insupportable, if it were not for +the finest music in the world, which, after all, the French music +certainly is. There was a violent party against the piece; and we were +so late, that it was just on the point of perishing. My ears have not +yet recovered from the horrid noise. In the midst of the tumult I +happily, by a master-stroke, turned the fortune of the night. I spied +the shawl of an English woman hanging over the box. This, you know, like +scarlet to the bull, is sufficient to enrage the Parisian pit. To the +shawl I directed the fury of the mob of critics. Luckily for us, the +lady was attended only by an Englishman, who of course chose to assert +his right not to understand the customs of any country, or submit to any +will but his own. He would not permit the shawl to be stirred. A bas! à +bas: resounded from below. The uproar was inconceivable. You would have +thought that the house must have come down. In the meantime the piece +went on, and the shawl covered all its defects. Admire my generalship. +T—— tells me I was born for a general; yet I rather think my forte is +negociation.</p> + +<p>But I have not yet come to your affairs, for which alone I could undergo +the fatigue of writing at this moment. Guess, my Olivia, what apparition +I met at the door of my box to-night. But the enclosed note will save +you the trouble of guessing. I could not avoid permitting him to slide +his billet doux into my hand as he put on my shawl. Adieu. I must refuse +myself the pleasure of conversing longer with my sweet friend. Fresh +toils await me. Mad. la Grande will never forgive me if I do not appear +for a moment at her soirée: and la petite Q—— will be jealous beyond +recovery if I do not give her a moment: and it is Mad. R——'s night. +There I must be; for all the ambassadors, as usual, will be there; and +as some of them, I have reason to believe, go on purpose to meet me, I +cannot disappoint their excellencies. My friends would never forgive it. +I am positively quite weary of this life of eternal bustle; but once in +the eddy, one is carried round and round; there is no stopping. Adieu, +adieu. I write under the hands of Victoire. O that she had your taste to +guide her, and to decide my too vacillating judgment: we should then +have no occasion to dread even the elegant simplicity of Mad. R——'s +toilette.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>My Gabrielle, I have read R***'s note enclosed in your charming +sprightly letter. What a contrast! So cold! so formal! A thousand times +rather would I not have heard from him, than have received a letter so +little in unison with my feelings. He talks to me of business. Business! +What business ought to detain a man a moment from the woman he loves? +The interests of his ambition are nothing to me. What are all these to +love? Is he so mean as to hesitate between them? then I despise him! and +Olivia can never love the being she despises!</p> + +<p>Does R*** flatter himself that his power over my heart is omnipotent? +Does he imagine that Olivia is to be slighted with impunity? Does R*** +think that a woman who has even nominally the honour to reign over his +heart cannot meditate new conquests? O credulous vanity of man! He +fancies perhaps that he is secure of the maturer age of one who fondly +devoted to him her inexperienced youth. "Security is the curse of +fools." Does he in his wisdom deem a woman's age a sufficient pledge for +her constancy? He might every day see examples enough to convince him of +his error. In fact, the age of women has nothing to do with the number +of their years. Possibly, however, the gallant gentleman may be of +opinion with Leonora's Swiss, that Lady Olivia is <i>un peu passée</i>. +Adieu, my dear friend; you, who always understand and sympathize in my +feelings, you will express them for me in the best manner possible. I +shall not write to R***. You will see him; and Olivia commits to you +what to a woman of delicacy is more dear than her love—her just +resentment.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>Pity me, dearest Gabrielle, for I am in need of all the pity which your +susceptible heart can bestow. Never was woman in such a terrible +situation! Yes, Gabrielle, this provoking, this incomprehensible, this +too amiable man, has entangled your poor friend past recovery. Her +sentiments and sensations must henceforward be in eternal opposition to +each other. Friendship, gratitude, honour, virtue, all in tremendous +array, forbid her to think of love; but love, imperious love, will not +be so defied: he seizes upon his victim, and now, as in all the past, +will be the ruler, the tyrant of Olivia's destiny. Never was confusion, +amazement, terror, remorse, equal to mine, Gabrielle, when I first +discovered that I loved him. Who could have foreseen, who could have +imagined it? I meant but to satisfy an innocent curiosity, to indulge +harmless coquetry, to gratify the natural love of admiration, and to +enjoy the possession of power. Alas! I felt not that whilst I was +acquiring ascendancy over the heart of another I was beguiled of all +command over my own. I flattered myself that when honour should bid me +stop, I could pause without hesitation, without effort: I promised +myself, that the moment I should discover that I was loved by the +husband of my friend I should fly from him for ever. Alas! it is no +longer time—to fly from him is no longer in my power. O Gabrielle! I +love him: he knows that I love him. Never did woman suffer more than I +have done since I wrote to you last. The conflict was too violent for my +feeble frame. I have been ill—very ill: a nervous fever brought me +nearly to the grave. Why did I not die? I should have escaped the deep +humiliation, the endless self-reproach to which my future existence is +doomed.—Leonora!—Why do I start at that name? Oh! there is horror in +the sound! Even now perhaps she knows and triumphs in my weakness. Even +now perhaps her calm insensible soul blesses itself for not being made +like mine. Even now perhaps her husband doubts whether he shall accept +Olivia's love, or sacrifice your wretched friend to Leonora's pride. O +Gabrielle, no words can describe what I suffer! But I must be calm, and +explain the progress of this fatal passion. Explain—Heavens! how shall +I explain what I cannot recollect without heart-rending anguish and +confusion! O Gabrielle! pity</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your distracted</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Monday.</p> + +<p>My dear romantic Olivia! you must have a furious passion for tormenting +yourself, when you can find matter for despair in your present +situation. In your place I should rejoice to find that in the moment an +old passion had consumed itself, a new one, fresh and vigorous, springs +from its ashes. My charming friend, understand your own interests, and +do not be the dupe of those fine phrases that we are obliged to employ +to deceive others. Rail at Cupid as much as you please to the men in +public, <i>par façon</i>; but always remember for your private use, that love +is essential to our existence in society. What is a woman when she +neither loves nor is loved? a mere <i>personage muet</i> in the drama of +life. Is it not from our lovers that we derive our consequence? Even a +beauty without lovers is but a queen without subjects. A woman who +renounces love is an abdicated sovereign, always longing to resume her +empire when it is too late; continually forgetting herself, like the +pseudo-philosophic Christina, talking and acting as though she had still +the power of life and death in her hands; a tyrant without guards or +slaves; a most awkward, pitiable, and ridiculous personage. No, my fair +Olivia, let us never abjure love: even when the reign of beauty passes +away, that of grace and sentiment remains. As much delicacy as you +please: without delicacy there is no grace, and without a veil beauty +loses her most captivating charms. I pity you, my dear, for having let +your veil be blown aside <i>malheureusement</i>. But such accidents will +happen. Who can control the passions or the winds? After all, <i>l'erreur +d'un moment</i> is not irretrievable, and you reproach yourself too +bitterly, my sweet friend, for your involuntary injustice to Lady +Leonora. Assuredly it could not be your intention to sacrifice your +repose to Mr L——. You loved him against your will, did you not? And it +is, you know, by the intention that we must judge of actions: the +positive harm done to the world in general is in all cases the only just +measure of criminality. Now what harm is done to the universe, and what +injury can accrue to any individual, provided you keep your own counsel? +As long as your friend is deceived, she is happy; it therefore becomes +your duty, your virtue, to dissemble. I am no great casuist, but all +this appears to me self-evident; and these I always thought were your +principles of philosophy. My dear Olivia, I have drawn out my whole +store of metaphysics with some difficulty for your service; I flatter +myself I have set your poor distracted head to rights. One word +more—for I like to go to the bottom of a subject, when I can do so in +two minutes: virtue is desirable because it makes us happy; +consequently, to make ourselves happy is to be truly virtuous. Methinks +this is sound logic.</p> + +<p>To tell you the truth, my dear Olivia, I do not well conceive how you +have contrived to fall in love with this half-frozen Englishman. 'Tis +done, however—there is no arguing against facts; and this is only one +proof more of what I have always maintained, that destiny is inevitable +and love irresistible. Voltaire's charming inscription on the statue of +Cupid is worth all the volumes of reasoning and morality that ever were +or ever will be written. Banish melancholy thoughts, my dear friend; +they serve no manner of purpose but to increase your passion. Repentance +softens the heart; and everybody knows, that what softens the heart +disposes it more to love: for which reason I never abandon myself to +this dangerous luxury of repentance. Mon Dieu! why will people never +profit by experience? And to what purpose do they read history? Was not +La Valliere ever penitent and ever transgressing? ever in transports or +in tears? You, at all events, my Olivia, can never become a Carmelite or +a Magdalen. You have emancipated yourself from superstition: but whilst +you ridicule all religious orders, do not inflict upon yourself their +penances. The habit of some of the orders has been thought becoming. The +modest costume of a nun is indeed one of the prettiest dresses one can +wear at a masquerade ball, and it might even be worn without a mask, if +it were fashionable: but nothing that is not fashionable can be +becoming.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my adorable Olivia: I will send you by the first opportunity your +Lyons gown, which is really charming.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xxxix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Nov. 30th, —</p> + +<p>Your truly philosophical letter, my infinitely various Gabrielle, +infused a portion of its charming spirit into my soul. My mind was +fortified and elevated by your eloquence. Who could think that a woman +of such a lively genius could be so profound? and who could expect from +a woman, who has passed her life in the world, such original and deep +reflections? You see you were mistaken when you thought that you had no +genius for philosophic subjects.</p> + +<p>After all that has been said by metaphysicians about the existence and +seat of the moral sense, I think I can solve every difficulty by a new +theory. You know some philosophers suppose the moral sense to be +intuitive and inherent in man: others who deny the doctrine of innate +ideas, treat this notion of innate sentiments as equally absurd. There +they certainly are wrong, for sentiments are widely different from +ideas, and I have that within me which convinces my understanding that +sentiments must be innate, and proportioned to the delicacy of our +sensibility; no person of common sense or feeling can doubt this. But +there are other points which I own puzzled me till yesterday: some +metaphysicians would seat the moral sense inherently in the heart, +others would place it intuitively in the brain, all would confine it to +the soul; now in my opinion it resides primarily and principally in the +nerves, and varies with their variations. Hence the difficulty of making +the moral sense a universal guide of action, since it not only differs +in many individuals, but in the same persons, at different periods of +their existence, or (as I have often experienced) at different hours of +the day. All this must depend upon the mobility of the nervous system; +upon this may <i>hinge</i> the great difficulties which have puzzled +metaphysicians respecting consciousness, identity, &c. If they had +attended less to the nature of the soul, and more to the system of the +nerves, they would have avoided innumerable errors, and probably would +have made incalculably important discoveries. Nothing is wanting but +some great German genius to bring this idea of a moral sense in the +nerves into fashion. Indeed, if our friend Mad. *** would mention it in +the notes to her new novel, it would introduce it in the most +satisfactory manner possible to all the fashionable world abroad; and we +take our notions in this country implicitly from the Continent. As for +you, my dear Gabrielle, I know you cut the gordian knot at once, by +referring, with your favourite moralist, every principle of human nature +to self-love. This does not quite accord with my ideas; there is +something harsh in it, that is repugnant to my sensibility; but you have +a stronger mind than I have, and perhaps your theory is right.</p> + +<p>"You tell me I contradict myself continually," says the acute and witty +Duke de la Rochefoucault: "No, but the human heart, of which I treat, is +in perpetual contradiction to itself." Permit me to avail myself of this +answer, dear Gabrielle, if you should accuse me of contradicting in this +letter all that I said to you in my last. A few hours after I had +despatched it the state of my nerves changed; I saw things of course in +a new light, and repented having exposed myself to your raillery by +writing in such a Magdalen strain. My nerves were more in fault than I. +When one's mind or one's nerves grow weak, the early associations and +old prejudices of the nursery recur, and tyrannize over one's reason: +from this evil your liberal education and enviable temperament have +preserved you; but have charity for my feminine weakness of frame, which +too often counteracts the masculine strength of my soul. Now that I have +deprecated your ridicule for my last nervous nonsense, I will go on in +a more rational manner. However my better judgment might have been +clouded for a moment, I have recovered strength of mind enough to see +that I am in no way to blame for anything that has happened. If a man is +amiable, and if I have taste and sensibility, I must see and feel it. +"To love," as I remember your friend G****** once finely observed to +you, "to love is a crime only in the eyes of demons, or of priests, who +resemble demons." This is a general proposition, to which none but the +prejudiced can refuse their assent: and what is true in general must be +true in particular. The <i>accident</i>, I use the term philosophically, not +popularly, the accident of a man's being married, or, in other words, +having entered imprudently into a barbarous and absurd civil contract, +cannot alter the nature of things. The essence of truth cannot be +affected by the variation of external circumstances. Now the proper +application of metaphysics frees the mind from vulgar prejudices, and +dissipates the baby terrors of an ill-educated conscience. To fall in +love with a married man, and the husband of your intimate friend! How +dreadful the sounds to some ears! even mine were startled at first, till +I called reason to my assistance. Then I had another difficulty to +combat—to own, and own unasked, a passion to the object of it, would +shock the false delicacy of those who are governed by common forms, and +who are slaves to vulgar prejudices: but a little philosophy liberates +our sex from the tyranny of custom, teaches us to disdain hypocrisy, and +to glory in the simplicity of truth.</p> + +<p>Josephine had been perfuming my hair, and I was sitting reading at my +toilette; the door of my dressing-room happened to be half open; L—— +was crossing the gallery, and as he passed I suppose his eye was caught +by my hair, or perhaps he paused a moment, I am not certain how it +was—my eyes were on my book.</p> + +<p>"Ah! vous avez raison, monsieur, c'est la plus belle chevelure! Mais +entrez donc, monsieur," cried Josephine, whom I can never teach to +comprehend or respect English customs, "Eh! entrez, entrez, monsieur; +madame est à sa toilette."</p> + +<p>As I looked up I could not forbear smiling at the extreme ease and +decision of Josephine's manner, and the excessive doubt and anxiety in +the gentleman's appearance. My smile, which, Heaven knows, meant no +encouragement, decided him; timidity instantly gave way to joy; he +entered. What was to be done? I could not turn him out again; I was not +answerable for any foolish conclusions he might draw from what he ought +in politeness to have considered as a thing of course. All I could do +was to blame Josephine for being a French woman. To defend her, and +flatter me, was the gentleman's part; and, for an Englishman, he really +acquitted himself with tolerable grace. Josephine at least was pleased, +and she found such a perpetual employment for monsieur, and his advice +was so necessary, that there was no chance of his departure: so we +talked of French <i>toilettes</i>, &c. &c., in French for Josephine's +edification: L—— paid me some compliments upon the recovery of my +looks after my illness—I thought I looked terribly languid—but he +assured me that this languor, in his eyes, was an additional grace; I +could not understand this: he fancied that must be because he did not +express himself well in French; he explained himself more clearly in +English, which Josephine, you know, does not understand, so that she was +now forced to be silent, and I was compelled to take my share in the +conversation. L—— made me comprehend that languor indicating +sensibility of heart was to him the most touching of female charms; I +sighed, and took up the book I had been reading; it was the new novel +which you sent me, dear Gabrielle; I talked of it, in hopes of changing +the course of the conversation; alas! this led to one far more +dangerous: he looked at the passage I had been reading. This brought us +back to sensibility again—to sentiments and descriptions so terribly +apposite! we found such a similarity in our tastes! Yet L—— spoke only +in general, and he preserved a command over himself, which provoked me, +though I knew it to be coquetry; I saw the struggle in his mind, and was +determined to force him to be candid, and to enjoy my triumph. With +these views I went farther than I had intended. The charm of sensibility +he had told me was to him irresistible. Alas! I let him perceive all the +weakness of my heart.—Sensibility is the worst timekeeper in the world. +We were neither of us aware of its progressive motion. The Swiss—my +evil genius—the Swiss knocked at the door to let me know dinner was +served. Dinner! on what vulgar incidents the happiness of life depends! +Dinner came between the discovery of my sentiments and that declaration +of passion which I now must hear—or die.</p> + +<p>"Le diner! mon Dieu!" cried Josephine. "Mais—finissons donc—la +toilette de madame."</p> + +<p>I heard the impertinent Swiss at the other end of the gallery at his +master's door, wondering in broken English where his master could be, +and conjecturing forty absurdities about his boots, and his being out +riding, &c. &c. To sally forth in conscious innocence upon the enemy's +spies, and to terminate the adventure as it was begun, <i>à la Françoise</i>, +was my resolution. L—— and Josephine understood me perfectly.</p> + +<p>"Eh! Monsieur de Vaud," said Josephine to the Swiss, whom we met on the +landing-place of the stairs, "madame n'est elle pas coeffée à ravir +aujourd'hui? C'est que monsieur vient d'assister à la toilette de +madame." The Swiss bowed, and said nothing. The bow was to his master, +not to me, and it was a bow of duty, not of inclination. I never saw a +man look so like a machine; he did not even raise his eyes upon me or my +<i>coëffure</i> as we passed.</p> + +<p>Bah! cried Josephine, with an inexpressible accent of mingled +indignation and contempt. She ran downstairs, leaving the Swiss to his +stupidity. I was more afraid of his penetration. But I entered the +dining-room as if nothing extraordinary had happened; and after all, you +know, my dear Gabrielle, nothing extraordinary had befallen us. A +gentleman had assisted at a lady's toilette. Nothing more simple, +nothing more proper in the meridian of Paris; and does propriety change +with meridians? There was company at dinner, and the conversation was +general and uninteresting; L—— endeavoured to support his part with +vivacity; but he had fits of absence and silence, which might have +alarmed Leonora, if she had any suspicion. But she is now perfectly +secure, and absolutely blind: therefore you see there can be no danger +for her happiness in my remaining where I am. For no earthly +consideration would I disturb her peace of mind; there is no sacrifice I +would hesitate for a moment to make to friendship or virtue, but I +cannot surely be called upon to <i>plant a dagger in my own heart</i>, to +destroy, for ever to destroy my own felicity without advantage to my +friend. My attachment to L——, as you say, is involuntary, and my love +as pure as it is fervent. I have reason to believe that his sentiments +are the same for me; but of this I am not yet certain. There is the +danger, and the only real danger for Leonora's happiness; for whilst +this uncertainty and his consequent fits of absence and imprudence last, +there is hazard every moment of her being alarmed. But when L—— once +decides, everything arranges itself, you know, Gabrielle, and prudence +becomes a duty to ourselves and to Leonora. No word, or look, or +coquetry could then escape us; we should be unpardonable if we did not +conduct ourselves with the most scrupulous delicacy and attention to her +feelings. I am amazed that L——, who has really a good understanding, +does not make these reflections, and is not determined by this +calculation. For his, for my own, but most for Leonora's sake, I wish +that this cruel suspense were at an end. Adieu, dear and amiable +Gabrielle.—These things are managed better in France.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xl.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to Miss B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Margaret</span>,</p></div> + +<p>I arrived here late yesterday evening in high spirits, and high hopes of +surprising and delighting all the world by my unexpected appearance; but +my pride was checked, and my tone changed the moment I saw Leonora. +Never was any human being so altered in her looks in so short a time. I +had just, and but just presence of mind enough not to say so. I am +astonished that it does not strike Mr L——. As soon as she left the +room, I asked him if Lady Leonora had been ill? No; perfectly well! +perfectly well!—Did not he perceive that she looked extremely ill? No; +she might be paler than usual: that was all that Mr L—— had observed. +Lady Olivia, after a pause, added, that Leonora certainly had not +appeared well lately, but this was nothing extraordinary in her +<i>situation</i>. <i>Situation!</i> nonsense! Lady Olivia went on with sentimental +hypocrisy of look and tone, saying fine things, to which I paid little +attention. Virtue in words, and vice in actions! thought I. People of +certain pretensions in the court of sentiment think that they can pass +false virtues upon the world for real, as some ladies, entitled by their +rank to wear jewels, appear in false stones, believing that it will be +taken for granted they would wear nothing but diamonds. Not one eye in a +hundred detects the difference at first, but in time the hundredth eye +comes, and then they must for ever hide their diminished rays. Beware! +Lady Olivia, beware!</p> + +<p>Leonora is ill, or unhappy, or both; but she will not allow that she is +either. On one subject she is impenetrable: a hundred, a thousand +different ways within these four-and-twenty hours have I led to it, with +all the ingenuity and all the delicacy of which I am mistress; but all +to no purpose. Neither by provocation, persuasion, laughing, teasing, +questioning, cross, or round about, pushing, squeezing, encompassing, +taking for granted, wondering, or blundering, could I gain my point. +Every look guarded—every syllable measured—yet unequivocal—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She said no more than just the thing she ought."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>Because I could find no fault I was half angry. I respect the motive of +this reserve; but towards me it is misplaced, and ill-judged, and it +must not exist. I have often declared that I would never condescend to +play the part of a confidante to any princess or heroine upon earth. But +Leonora is neither princess nor heroine, and I would be her confidante, +but she will not let me. Now I am punished for my pride. If she would +only trust me, if she would only tell me what has passed since I went, +and all that now weighs upon her mind, I could certainly be of some use. +I could and would say everything that she might scruple to hint to Lady +Olivia, and I will answer for it I would make her raise the siege. But I +cannot believe Mr L—— to be such a madman as to think of attaching +himself seriously to a woman like Olivia, when he has such a wife as +Leonora. That he was amusing himself with Olivia I saw, or thought I +saw, some time ago, and I rather wondered that Leonora was uneasy: for +all husbands will flirt, and all wives must bear it, thought I. When +such a coquette as this fell in his way, and made advances, he would +have been more than man if he had receded. Of course, I thought, he must +despise and laugh at her all the time he was flattering and gallanting +her ladyship. This would have been fair play, and comic; but the comedy +should have ended by this time. I am now really afraid it will turn into +a tragedy. I, even I! am alarmed. I must prevail upon Leonora to speak +to me without reserve. I see her suffer, and I must share her grief. +Have not I always done so from the time we were children? and now, when +she most wants a friend, am not I worthy to share her confidence? Can +she mistake friendship for impertinent curiosity? Does not she know that +I would not be burthened with the secrets of anybody whom I did not +love? If she thinks otherwise, she does me injustice, and I will tell +her so before I sleep. She does not know how well I love her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>My dear Margaret, Leonora and I have had a quarrel—the first serious +quarrel we ever had in our lives; and the end of it is, that she is an +angel, and I am a fool. Just as I laid down my pen after writing to you, +though it was long past midnight, I marched into Leonora's apartment, +resolved to surprise or to force her confidence. I found her awake, as I +expected, and up and dressed, as I did not expect, sitting in her +dressing-room, her head leaning upon her hand. I knew what she was +thinking of; she had a heap of Mr L——'s old letters beside her. She +denied that she was in tears, and I will not swear to the tears, but I +think I saw signs of them notwithstanding. I spoke out;—but in +vain—all in vain. At last I flew into a passion, and reproached her +bitterly. She answered me with that air of dignified tenderness which is +peculiar to her—"If you believe me to be unhappy, my dear Helen, is +this a time to reproach me unjustly?" I was brought to reason and to +tears, and after asking pardon, like a foolish naughty child, was kissed +and forgiven, upon a promise never to do so any more; a promise, which I +hope Heaven will grant me grace and strength of mind enough to keep. I +was certainly wrong to attempt to force her secret from her. Leonora's +confidence is always given, never yielded; and in her, openness is a +virtue, not a weakness. But I wish she would not contrive to be always +in the right. In all our quarrels, in all the variations of my humour, I +am obliged to end by doing homage to her reason, as the Chinese +mariners, in every change of weather, burn incense before the needle.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your affectionate</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xli.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">L—— Castle, Friday.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear General</span>,</p></div> + +<p>I hoped that you would have favoured us with a passing visit in your way +from town, but I know you will tell me that friendship must not +interfere with the interests of the service. I have reason to curse +those interests; they are for ever at variance with mine. I had a +particular desire to speak to you upon a subject, on which it is not +agreeable to me to write. Lady Leonora also wished extremely and +disinterestedly for your company. She does not know how much she is +obliged to you. The laconic advice you gave me some time ago influenced +my conduct longer than counsel which is in opposition to our passions +usually does, and it has haunted my imagination perpetually:—"My dear +L——, do not end by being the dupe of a <i>Frenchified</i> coquette."</p> + +<p>My dear friend, of that there is no danger. No man upon earth despises +or detests coquettes more than I do, be they French or English. I think, +however, that a foreign-born, or foreign-bred coquette, has more of the +ease of <i>practice</i>, and less of the awkwardness of conscience, than a +home-bred flirt, and is in reality less blamable, for she breaks no +restraints of custom or education; she does only what she has seen her +mother do before her, and what is authorized by the example of most of +the fashionable ladies of her acquaintance. But let us put flirts and +coquettes quite out of the question. My dear general, you know that I am +used to women, and take it upon my word, that the lady to whom I allude +is more tender and passionate than vain. Every woman has, or has had, a +tincture of vanity; but there are a few, and those are to me the most +amiable of the sex, who</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Feel every vanity in fondness lost."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>You know that I am delicate, even fastidious, in my taste for female +manners. Nothing can in my opinion make amends for any offence against +propriety, except it be sensibility—genuine, generous sensibility. This +can, in my mind, cover a multitude of faults. There is so much of +selfishness, of hypocrisy, of coldness, in what is usually called female +virtue, that I often turn with distaste from those to whom I am +compelled to do homage for the sake of the general good of society. I am +not <i>charlatan</i> enough to pretend upon all occasions to prefer the +public advantage to my own. I confess, that let a woman be ever so fair, +or good, or wise—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be she with that goodness blest</span> +<span class="i0"> Which may merit name of best,</span> +<span class="i0"> If she be not such to me,</span> +<span class="i0"> What care I how good she be?"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>And I will further acknowledge, that I am not easily satisfied with the +manner in which a woman is kind to me: if it be duty-work kindness, I +would not give thanks for it: it is done for her reputation, not for me, +and let the world thank her. To <i>the best of wives</i> I should make the +worst of husbands. No—I should, I hope, pay her in her own coin, with +all due observances, attentions, and respect, but without one grain of +love. Love is only to be had for love; and without it, nothing a woman +can give appears to me worth having. I do not desire to be loved well +enough to satisfy fathers and mothers, and uncles and aunts; well enough +to decide a woman to marry me rather than disoblige her friends, or run +the chance of having <i>many a worse offer</i>, and living perhaps to be an +old maid. I do not desire to be loved well enough to keep a woman true +and faithful to me "<i>till death us do part</i>:" in short, I do not desire +to be loved well enough for a husband; I desire to be loved sufficiently +for a lover; not only above all other persons, but above all other +things, all other considerations—to be the first and last object in +the heart of the woman to whom I am attached: I wish to feel that I +sustain and fill the whole of her heart. I must be certain that I am +everything to her, as she is everything to me; that there is no +imaginable situation in which she would not live with me, in which she +would not be happy to live with me; no possible sacrifice that she would +not make for me; or rather, that nothing she could do should appear a +sacrifice. Are these exorbitant expectations? I am capable of all this, +and more, for a woman I love; and it is my pride or my misfortune to be +able to love upon no other terms. Such proofs of attachment it may be +difficult to obtain, and even to give; more difficult, I am sensible, +for a wife than for a mistress. A young lady who is married <i>secundum +artem</i>, with licence and consent of friends, can give no extraordinary +instances of affection. I should not consider it as an indisputable +proof of love, that she does me the honour to give me her hand in a +church, or that she condescends to bespeak my liveries, or to be handed +into her own coach with all the blushing honours of a bride; all the +paraphernalia of a wife secured, all the prudent and necessary provision +made both for matrimonial love and hatred, dower, pin-money, and +separate maintenance on the one hand, and on the other, lands, +tenements, and hereditaments for the future son and heir, and sums +without end for younger children to the tenth and twentieth possibility, +<i>as the case may be, nothing herein contained to the contrary in anywise +notwithstanding</i>. Such a jargon Cupid does not understand. A woman may +love this most convenient personage, her lawful husband; but I should +think it difficult for the delicacy of female passion to survive the +cool preparations for hymeneal felicity. At all events, you will allow +the lady makes no sacrifice, she shows no great generosity, and she +may, or she may not, be touched at the altar by the divine flame. My +good general, when you are a husband you will feel these things as I do; +till then, it is very easy to talk as you do, and to admire other men's +wives, and to wish Heaven had blessed you with such a treasure. For my +part, the single idea, that a woman thinks it her duty to be fond of me, +would deprive me of all pleasure in her love. No man can be more +sensible than I am of the amiable and estimable qualities of Lady +Leonora L——; I should be a brute and a liar if I hesitated to give the +fullest testimony in her praise; but such is the infirmity of my nature, +that I could pardon some faults more easily than I could like some +virtues. The virtues which leave me in doubt of a woman's love I can +esteem, but that is all. Lady Leonora is calm, serene, perfectly +sweet-tempered, without jealousy and without suspicion; in one word, +without love. If she loved me, she never could have been the wife she +has been for some months past. You will laugh at my being angry with a +wife for not being jealous. But so it is. Certain defects of temper I +could bear, if I considered them as symptoms of strong affection. When I +for a moment believed that Leonora suffered, when I attributed her +fainting at our fête champêtre to jealousy, I was so much alarmed and +touched, that I absolutely forgot her rival. I did more; to prevent her +feeling uneasiness, to destroy the suspicions which I imagined had been +awakened in her mind, I hesitated not to sacrifice all the pleasure and +all the vanity which a man of my age might reasonably be supposed to +feel in the prospect of a new and not inglorious conquest; I left home +immediately, and went to meet you, my dear friend, on your return from +abroad. This visit I do not set down to your account, but to that of +honour—foolish, unnecessary honour. You half-persuaded me, that your +hearsay Parisian evidence was more to be trusted than my own judgment, +and I returned home with the resolution not to be the dupe of a +coquette. Leonora's reception of me was delightful; I never saw her in +such spirits, or so amiable. But I could not help wishing to ascertain +whether I had attributed her fainting to the real cause. This proof I +tempted to my cost. Instead of showing any tender alarm at the renewal +of my obvious attentions to her rival, she was perfectly calm and +collected, went on with her usual occupations, fulfilled all her duties, +never reproached me by word or look, never for one moment betrayed +impatience, ill-humour, suspicion, or jealousy; in short, I found that I +had been fool enough to attribute to excess of affection an accident +which proceeded merely from the situation of her health. If anxiety of +mind had been the cause of her fainting at the fête champêtre, she would +since have felt and shown agitation on a thousand occasions, where she +has been perfectly tranquil. Her friend Mrs C——, who returned here a +few days ago, seems to imagine that Leonora looks ill; but I shall not +again be led to mistake bodily indisposition for mental suffering. +Leonora's conduct argues great insensibility of soul, or great command; +great insensibility, I think: for I cannot imagine such command of +temper possible to any but a woman who feels indifference for the +offender. Yet, even now that I have steeled myself with this conviction, +I am scarcely bold enough to hazard the chance of giving her pain. +Absurd weakness! It has been clearly proved to my understanding, that my +irresolution, my scruples of conscience, my combats between love and +esteem, are more likely to betray the real state of my mind than any +decision that I could make. I decide, then—I determine to be happy +with a woman who has a soul capable of feeling, not merely what is +called conjugal affection, but the passion of love; who is capable of +sacrificing everything to love; who has given me proofs of candour and +greatness of mind, which I value far above all her wit, grace, and +beauty. My dear general, I know all that you can tell, all that you can +hint concerning her history abroad. I know it from her own lips. It was +told to me in a manner that made her my admiration. It was told to me as +a preservative against the danger of loving her. It was told to me with +the generous design of protecting Leonora's happiness; and all this at +the moment when I was beloved, tenderly beloved. She is above +dissimulation: she scorns the arts, the fears of her sex. She knows you +are her enemy, and yet she esteems you; she urged me to speak to you +with the utmost openness: "Let me never," said she, "be the cause of +your feeling less confidence or less affection for the best of friends."</p> + +<p>R*** is sacrificed to me; that R***, with whose cursed name you +tormented me. My dear friend, she will force your admiration, as she has +won my love.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours sincerely,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xlij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to Miss B.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>As I am not trusted with the secret, I may, my dear Margaret, use my own +eyes and ears as I please to find it out; and I know Leonora's +countenance so well, that I see everything that passes in her mind just +as clearly as if she had told it to me in words.</p> + +<p>It grieves me more than I can express, to see her suffering as she +does. I am now convinced that she has reason to be unhappy; and, what is +worse, I do not see what course she can follow to recover her happiness. +All her forbearance, all her patience, all her sweet temper, I perceive, +are useless, or worse than useless, injurious to her in her strange +husband's opinion. I never liked him thoroughly, and now I detest him. +He thinks her cold, insensible! She insensible!—Brute! Idiot. +Everything that she says or does displeases him. The merest trifles +excite the most cruel suspicions. He totally misunderstands her +character, and sees everything about her in a false light. In short, he +is under the dominion of an artful fiend, who works as she pleases upon +his passions—upon his pride, which is his ruling passion.</p> + +<p>This evening Lady Olivia began confessing that she had too much +sensibility, that she was of an excessively susceptible temper, and that +she should be terribly jealous of the affections of any person she +loved. She did not know how love <i>could</i> exist without jealousy. Mr +L—— was present, and listening eagerly. Leonora's lips were silent; +not so her countenance. I was in hopes Mr L—— would have remarked its +beautiful touching expression; but his eyes were fixed upon Olivia. I +could have . . . but let me go on. Lady Olivia had the malice suddenly +to appeal to Leonora, and asked, whether she was never jealous of her +husband? Leonora, astonished by her assurance, paused for an instant, +and then replied, "It would be difficult to convince me that I had any +reason to be jealous of Mr L——, I esteem him so much."—"I wish to +Heaven!" exclaimed Lady Olivia, her eyes turned upwards with a fine St +Cecilia expression, whilst Mr L——'s attention was fixed upon her, +"would to Heaven I was blessed with such a <i>reasonable</i> temper!"—"When +you are wishing to Heaven, Lady Olivia," said I, "had not you better ask +for <i>all you want</i> at once; not only such a reasonable temper, but such +a feeling heart?"</p> + +<p>Some of the company smiled. Lady Olivia, practised as she is, looked +disconcerted; Mr L—— grave and impenetrable; Leonora, blushing, turned +away to the pianoforte. Mr L—— remained talking with Lady Olivia, and +he neither saw nor heard her. If Leonora had sung like an angel, it +would have made no impression. She turned over the leaves of her music +quickly, to a lively air, and played it immediately, to prevent my +perceiving how much she felt. Poor Leonora! you are but a bad +dissembler, and it is in vain to try to conceal yourself from me.</p> + +<p>I was so sorry for her, and so incensed with Olivia this night, that I +could not restrain myself, and I made matters worse. At supper I came +almost to open war with her ladyship. I cannot remember exactly what I +said, but I know that I threw out the most severe inuendoes which +politeness could permit: and what <i>was</i> the consequence? Mr L—— pitied +Olivia and hated me; Leonora was in misery the whole time; and her +husband probably thought that she was the instigator, though she was +perfectly innocent. My dear Margaret, where will all this end? and how +much more mischief shall I do with the best intentions possible?</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xliij.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>Your letter has travelled after me God knows where, my dear L——, and +has caught me at last with my foot in the stirrup. I have just had time +to look it over. I find, in short, that you are in love. I give you joy! +But be in love like a madman, not like a fool. Call a demirep an angel, +and welcome; but remember that such angels are to be had any day in the +year; and such a wife as yours is not to be had for the mines of +Golconda. Coin your heart, and drop your blood for it, and you will +never be loved by any other woman so well as you are by Lady Leonora +L——.</p> + +<p>As to your jealous hypochondriacism, more of that when I have more +leisure. In the meantime I wish it well cured.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">I am, my dear friend,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xliv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>I triumph! dear Gabrielle, give me joy! Never was triumph more complete. +L—— loves me! That I knew long ago; but I have at last forced from his +proud heart the avowal of his passion. Love and Olivia are victorious +over scruples, prejudice, pride, and superstition!</p> + +<p>Leonora feels not—sees not: she requires, she excites no pity. Long may +her delusion last! But even were it this moment to dissipate, what cause +have I for remorse? "Who is most to blame, he who ceases to love, or she +who ceases to please?" Leonora perhaps thinks that she loves her +husband; and no doubt she does so in a conjugal sort of a way: he <i>has</i> +loved his wife; but be it mine to prove that his heart is suited to far +other raptures; and if Olivia be called upon for sacrifices, <i>Olivia</i> +can make them.</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let wealth, let honour wait the wedded dame,</span> +<span class="i0"> August her deed, and sacred be her fame;</span> +<span class="i0"> Before true passion all those views remove,</span> +<span class="i0"> Fame, wealth, and honour, what are you to love?"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>These lines, though quoted perpetually by the tender and passionate, can +never become stale and vulgar; they will always recur in certain +situations to persons of delicate sensibility, for they at once express +all that can be said, and justify all that can be felt. My amiable +Gabrielle, adieu. Pardon me if to-day I have no soul even for +friendship. This day is all for love.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xlv.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>What the devil would you have of your wife, my dear L——? You would be +loved above all earthly considerations; honour, duty, virtue and +religion inclusive, would you? and you would have a wife with her head +in the clouds, would you? I wish you were married to one of the +all-for-love heroines, who would treat you with bowl and dagger every +day of your life. In your opinion sensibility covers a multitude of +faults—you would have said <i>sins</i>: so it had need, for it produces a +multitude. Pray what brings hundreds and thousands of women to the +Piazzas of Covent Garden but sensibility? What does the colonel's, and +the captain's, and the ensign's mistress talk of but <i>sensibility</i>? And +are you, my dear friend, to be duped by this hackneyed word? And should +you really think it an indisputable proof of a lady's love, that she +would jump out of a two pair of stairs window into your arms? Now I +should think myself sure of such a woman's love only just whilst I held +her, and scarcely then; for I, who in my own way am jealous as well as +yourself, should in this case be jealous of wickedness, and should +strongly suspect that she would love the first devil that she saw better +than me.</p> + +<p>You are always raving about sacrifices. Your Cupid must be a very +vindictive little god. Mine is a good-humoured, rosy little fellow, who +desires no better than to see me laugh and be happy. But to every man +his own Cupid. If you cannot believe in love without sacrifices, you +must have them, to be sure. And now, in sober sadness, what do you think +your heroine would sacrifice for you? Her reputation? that, pardon me, +is out of her power. Her virtue? I have no doubt she would. But before I +can estimate the value of this sacrifice, I must know whether she makes +it to you or to her pleasure. Would she give up in any instance her +pleasure for your happiness? This is not an easy matter to ascertain +with respect to a mistress: but your wife has put it beyond a doubt, +that she prefers your happiness not only to her pleasure, but to her +pride, and to everything that the sex usually prefer to a husband. You +have been wounded by a poisoned arrow; but you have a faithful wife who +can extract the poison. Lady Leonora's affection is not a mere fit of +goodness and generosity, such as I have seen in many women, but it is a +steadiness of attachment in the hour of trial, which I have seen in few. +For several months past you have, by your own account, put her temper +and her love to the most severe tests, yet she has never failed for one +moment, never reproached you by word or look.—But may be she has no +feeling.—No feeling! you can have none, if you say so: no penetration, +if you think so. Would not you think me a tyrant if I put a poor fellow +on the picket, and told you, when he bore it without a groan, that it +was because he could not feel? You do worse, you torture the soul of the +woman who loves you; she endures, she is calm, she smiles upon you even +in agony; and you tell me she cannot feel! she cannot feel like an +Olivia! No; and so much the better for her husband, for she will then +have only feeling enough for him, she will not extend her charity to all +his sex. But Olivia has such candour and magnanimity, that I must admire +her! I humbly thank her for offering to make me her confidant, for +offering to tell me what I know already, and what she is certain that I +know. These were good moves, but I understand the game as well as her +ladyship does. As to her making a friend of me; if she means an enemy to +Lady Leonora L——, I would sooner see her—in heaven: but if she would +do me the favour to think no more of your heart, which is too good for +her, and to accept of my—my—what shall I say?—my devoirs, I am at her +command. She shall drive my curricle, &c. &c. She would suit me vastly +well for a month or two, and by that time poor R*** would make his +appearance, or somebody in his stead: at the worst, I should have a +chance of some blessed metaphysical quirk, which would prove that +inconstancy was a virtue, or that a new love is better than an old one. +When it came to that, I should make my best bow, put on my most +disconsolate face, and retire.</p> + +<p>You will read all this in a very different spirit from that in which it +is written. If you are angry—no matter: I am cool. I tell you +beforehand that I will not fight you for anything I have said in this +letter, or that I ever may say about your Olivia. Therefore, my dear +L——, save yourself the trouble of challenging me. I thank God I have +reputation enough to be able to dispense with the glory of blowing out +your brains.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xlvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p>We have been very gay here the last few days: the gallant and +accomplished Prince —— has been here. H****, the witty H****, who is +his favourite companion, introduced him; and he seems so much charmed +with the old castle, its towers and battlements, and with its +<i>cynosure</i>, that I know not when he will be able to prevail upon himself +to depart. To-morrow, he says; but so he has said these ten days: he +cannot resist the entreaties of his kind host and hostess to stay +another day. The soft accent of the beautiful Leonora will certainly +detain him <i>one day more</i>, and her gracious smile will bereave him of +rest for months to come. He has evidently fallen desperately in love +with her. Now we shall see virtue in danger.</p> + +<p>I have always been of opinion with St Evremond and Ninon de l'Enclos, +that no female virtue can stand every species of test; fortunately it is +not always exposed to trial. Reputation may be preserved by certain +persons in certain situations, upon very easy terms. Leonora, for +instance, is armed so strong in character, that no common mortal will +venture to attack her. It would be presumption little short of high +treason to imagine the fall of the Lady Leonora L——, the daughter of +the Duchess of ***, who, with a long line of immaculate baronesses in +their own right, each in her armour of stiff stays, stands frowning +defiance upon the adventurous knights. More alarming still to the modern +seducer appears a judge in his long wig, and a jury with their long +faces, ready to bring in their verdict, and to award damages +proportionate to the rank and fortune of the parties. Then the former +reputation of the lady is talked of, and the irreparable injury +sustained by the disconsolate husband from the loss of the solace and +affection of this paragon of wives. And it is proved that she lived in +the most perfect harmony with him till the vile seducer appeared; who, +in aggravation of damages, was a confidential friend of the husband's, +&c. &c. &c. &c. &c.</p> + +<p>Brave, indeed, and desperately in love must be the man, who could dare +all these to deserve the fair. But princes are, it is said, naturally +brave, and ambitious of conquering difficulties.</p> + +<p>I have insinuated these reflections in a general way to L——, who +applies them so as to plague himself sufficiently. Heaven is my witness, +that I mean no injury to Lady Leonora; yet I fear that there are +moments, when my respect for her superiority, joined to the +consciousness of my own weakness, overpowers me, and I almost envy her +the right she retains to the esteem of the man I love. This is a +blamable weakness—I know it—I reproach myself bitterly; but all I can +do is to confess it candidly. L—— sees my conflicts, and knows how to +value the sensibility of my fond heart. Adieu, my Gabrielle. When shall +I be happy? since even love has its torments, and I am thus doomed to be +ever a victim to the tenderness of my soul.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xlvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to Miss B——.</i></h3> + + +<p>I do not know whether I pity, love, or admire Leonora most. Just when +her mind was deeply wounded by her husband's neglect, and when her +jealousy was worked to the highest pitch by his passion for her +dangerous rival, the Prince —— arrives here, and struck by Leonora's +charms of mind and person, falls passionately in love with her. Probably +his highness's friend H—— had given him a hint of the existing +circumstances, and he thought a more propitious moment could scarcely be +found for making an impression upon a female mind. He judged of Leonora +by other women. And I, like a simpleton, judged of her by myself. With +shame I confess to you, my dear Margaret, that notwithstanding all my +past experience, I did expect that she would have done as I am afraid I +should have done in her situation. I think that I could not have +resisted the temptation of coquetting a little—a very little—just to +revive the passion of the man whom I really loved. This expedient +succeeds so often with that wise sex, who never rightly know the value +of a heart, except when they have just won it, or at the moment when +they are on the point of losing it. In Leonora's place and in such an +emergency, I should certainly have employed that frightful monster +jealousy to waken sleeping love; since he, and only he, can do it +expeditiously and effectually. This I have hinted to Leonora, talking +always <i>in generals</i>; for, since my total overthrow, I have never dared +to come to particulars: but by putting cases and <i>confessing myself</i>, I +contrived to make my thoughts understood. I then boasted of the extreme +facility of the means I would adopt to recover a heart. Leonora answered +in the words of a celebrated great man:—"C'est facile de se servir de +pareils moyens; c'est difficile de s'y résoudre."</p> + +<p>"But if no other means would succeed," said I, "would not you sacrifice +your pride to your love?"</p> + +<p>"My pride, willingly; but not my sense of what is right," said she, with +an indescribable mixture of tenderness and firmness in her manner.</p> + +<p>"Can a little coquetry in a good cause be such a heinous offence?" +persisted I. I knew that I was wrong all the time; but I delighted in +seeing how right she was.</p> + +<p>No—she would not allow her mind to be cheated by female sophistry; nor +yet by the male casuistry of, "The end sanctifies the means."</p> + +<p>"If you had the misfortune to lose the affections of the man you love, +and if you were quite certain of regaining them by following my recipe?" +said I.</p> + +<p>Never shall I forget the look with which Leonora left me, and the accent +with which she said, "My dear Helen, if it were ever to be my misfortune +to lose my husband's love, I would not, even if I were certain of +success, attempt to regain it by any unworthy arts. How could I wish to +regain his love at the hazard of losing his esteem, and the certainty of +forfeiting my own!"</p> + +<p>I said no more—I had nothing more to say: I saw that I had given pain, +and I have never touched upon the subject since. But her practice is +even beyond her theory. Never, by deed, or look, or word, or thought +(for I see all her thoughts in her eloquent countenance), has she +swerved from her principles. No prudery—no coquetry—no +mock-humility—no triumph. Never for an instant did she, by a proud air, +say to her husband—See what others think of me! Never did a resentful +look say to him—Inconstant!—revenge is in my power! Never even did a +reproachful sigh express—I am injured, yet I do not retaliate.</p> + +<p>Mr L—— is blind; he is infatuated; he is absolutely bereaved of +judgment by a perfidious, ungrateful, and cruel wretch. Let me vent my +indignation to you, dear Margaret, or it will explode, perhaps, when it +may do Leonora mischief.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xlviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>This Lady Leonora, in her simplicity, never dreamed of love till the +prince's passion was too visible and audible to be misunderstood: and +then she changed her tone, and checked her simplicity, and was so +reserved, and so dignified, and so <i>proper</i>, it was quite edifying, +especially to a poor sinner of a coquette like me; nothing <i>piquante</i>; +nothing <i>agaçante</i>; nothing <i>demi-voilée</i>; no retiring to be pursued; +not a single manoeuvre of coquetry did she practise. This convinces me +that she cares not in the least for her husband; because, if she really +loved him, and wished to reclaim his heart, what so natural or so simple +as to excite his jealousy, and thus revive his love? After neglecting +this golden opportunity, she can never convince me that she is really +anxious about her husband's heart. This I hinted to L——, and his own +susceptibility had hinted it to him efficaciously before I spoke.</p> + +<p>Though Leonora has been so correct hitherto, and so cold to the prince +in her husband's presence, I have my suspicions, that if in his absence +proper means were taken, if her pride were roused by apt suggestions, if +it were delicately pointed out to her that she is shamefully neglected, +that she is a cipher in her own house, that her husband presumes too +much upon her sweetness of temper, that his inconstancy is wondered at +by all who have eyes, and that a little retaliation might become her +ladyship, I would not answer for her forbearance, that is to say, if all +this were done by a dexterous man, a lover, and a prince! I shall take +care my opinions shall be known; for I cannot endure to have the esteem +of the man I love monopolized. Exposed to temptation as I have been, and +with as ardent affections, Leonora, or I am much mistaken, would not +have been more estimable. Adieu, my dearest Gabrielle. Nous verrons! +nous verrons!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Sunday evening.</p> + +<p>P.S.—I open my letter to tell you that the prince is actually gone. +Doubtless he will return at a more auspicious moment.</p> + +<p>Lady M—— and all the troop of friends are to depart on Monday; all but +<i>the</i> bosom friend, <i>l'amie intime</i>, that insupportable Helen, who is +ever at daggers-drawing with me. So much the better! L—— sees her +cabals with his wife; she is a partisan without the art to be so to any +purpose, and her manoeuvres tend only to increase his partiality for his +Olivia.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xlix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>* * * * * * * +* * * * * In short, Leonora has discovered all that she +might have seen months ago between her husband and me. What will be the +consequence? I long, yet almost fear, to meet her again. She is now in +her own apartment, writing, I presume, to her mother for advice.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter l.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[Left on Lady Olivia's dressing-table.]</p></div> + +<p>O you, whom no kindness can touch, whom no honour can bind, whom no +faith can hold, enjoy the torments you have inflicted on me! enjoy the +triumph of having betrayed a confiding friend! Friend no more—affect, +presume no longer to call me friend! I am under no necessity to +dissemble, and dissimulation is foreign to my habits, and abhorrent to +my nature! I know you to be my enemy, and I say so—my most cruel enemy; +one who could, without reluctance or temptation, rob me of all I hold +most dear. Yes, without temptation; for you do not love my husband, +Olivia. On this point I cannot be mistaken; I know too well what it is +to love him. Had you been struck by his great or good and amiable +qualities, charmed by his engaging manners, or seduced by the violence +of his passion; and had I seen you honourably endeavour to repress that +passion; had I seen in you the slightest disposition to sacrifice your +pleasure or your vanity to friendship or to duty, I think I could have +forgiven, I am sure I should have pitied you. But you felt no pity for +me, no shame for yourself; you made no attempt to avoid, you invited +the danger. Mr L—— was not the deceiver, but the deceived. By every +art and every charm in your power—and you have many—you won upon his +senses and worked upon his imagination; you saw, and made it your pride +to conquer the scruples of that affection he once felt for his wife, and +that wife was your friend. By passing bounds, which he could not +conceive that any woman could pass, except in the delirium of passion, +you made him believe that your love for him exceeds all that I feel. How +he will find himself deceived! If you had loved him as I do, you could +not so easily have forfeited all claim to his esteem. Had you loved him +so much, you would have loved honour more.</p> + +<p>It is possible that Mr L—— may taste some pleasure with you whilst his +delusion lasts, whilst his imagination paints you, as mine once did, in +false colours, possessed of generous virtues, and the victim of +excessive sensibility: but when he sees you such as you are, he will +recoil from you with aversion, he will reject you with contempt.</p> + +<p>Knowing my opinion of you, Lady Olivia, you will not choose to remain in +this house; nor can I desire for my guest one whom I can no longer, in +private or in public, make my companion. Adieu.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter li.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">L—— Castle, Midnight.</p> + +<p>Farewell for ever!—it must be so—Farewell for ever! Would to Heaven I +had summoned courage sooner to pronounce these fatal, necessary, +irrevocable words: then had I parted from you without remorse, without +the obloquy to which I am now exposed. Oh, my dearest L——! Mine, do I +still dare to call you? Yes, mine for the last time, I must call you, +mine I must fancy you, though for the impious thought the Furies +themselves were to haunt me to madness. My dearest L——, never more +must we meet in this world! Think not that my weak voice alone forbids +it: no, a stronger voice than mine is heard—an injured wife reclaims +you. What a letter have I just received . . .!—from . . . Leonora! She +tells me that she no longer desires for her guest one whom she cannot, +in public or private, make her companion—O Leonora, it was sufficient +to banish me from your heart! She tells me not only that I have for ever +forfeited her confidence, her esteem, her affection; but that I shall +soon be your aversion and contempt. O cruel, cruel words! But I +submit—I have deserved it all—I have robbed her of a heart above all +price. Leonora, why did you not reproach me more bitterly? I desire, I +implore to be crushed, to be annihilated by your vengeance! Most +admirable, most virtuous, most estimable of women, best of wives, I have +with sacrilegious love profaned a soul consecrated to you and conjugal +virtue. I acknowledge my crime; trample upon me as you will, I am +humbled in the dust. More than all your bitterest reproaches do I feel +the remorse of having for a moment interrupted such serenity of +happiness.</p> + +<p>Oh, why did you persuade me, L——, and why did I believe that Leonora +was calm and free from all suspicion? How could I believe that any +woman whom you had ever loved, could remain blind to your inconstancy, +or feel secure indifference? Happy woman! in you to love is not a crime; +you may glory in your passion, whilst I must hide mine from every human +eye, drop in shameful secrecy the burning tear, stifle the struggling +sigh, blush at the conflicts of virtue and sensibility, and carry shame +and remorse with me to the grave. Happy Leonora! happy even when most +injured, you have a right to complain to him you love;—he is yours—you +are his wife—his esteem, his affection are yours. On Olivia he has +bestowed but a transient thought, and eternal ignominy must be her +portion. So let it be—so I wish it to be. Would to Heaven I may thus +atone for the past, and secure your future felicity. Fly to her, my +dearest L——, I conjure you! throw yourself at her feet, entreat, +implore, obtain her forgiveness. She cannot refuse it to your tears, to +your caresses. To withstand them she must be more or less than woman. +No, she cannot resist your voice when it speaks words of peace and love; +she will press you with transport to her heart, and Olivia, poor Olivia, +will be for ever forgotten; yet she will rejoice in your felicity; +absolved perhaps in the eye of Heaven, though banished from your +society, she will die content.</p> + +<p>Full well am I aware of the consequences of quitting thus precipitately +the house of Lady Leonora L——; but nothing that concerns myself alone +can for a moment make me hesitate to do that which the sentiment of +virtue dictates, and which is yet more strongly urged by regard for the +happiness of one, who once allowed me to call her friend. I know my +reputation is irrecoverably sacrificed; but it is to one for whom I +would lay down my life. Can a woman who feels as I do deem any earthly +good a sacrifice for him she loves? Dear L——, adieu for ever!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to the Duchess of ——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dearest Mother</span>,</p></div> + + +<p>It is all over—my husband is gone—gone perhaps for ever—all is in +vain—all is lost!</p> + +<p>Without saying more to you than I ought, I may tell you, that in +consequence of an indignant letter which I wrote last night to Lady +Olivia, she left my house this morning early, before any of the family +were up. Mr L—— heard of her departure before I did. He has, I will +not say followed her, for of that I am not certain; but he has quitted +home, and without giving me one kind look at parting, without even +noticing a letter which I left last night upon his table. At what slight +things we catch to save us from despair! How obstinate, how vain is +hope! I fondly hoped, even to the last moment, that this letter, this +foolish letter, would work a sudden change in my husband's heart, would +operate miracles, would restore me to happiness. I fancied, absurdly +fancied, that laying open my whole soul to him would have an effect upon +his mind. Alas! has not my whole soul been always open to him? Could +this letter tell him anything but what he knows already or what he will +never know—how well I love him! I was weak to expect so much from it; +yet as it expressed without complaint the anguish of disappointed +affection, it deserved at least some acknowledgment. Could not he have +said, "My dear Leonora, I thank you for your letter"?—or more coldly +still—"Leonora, I have received your letter"? Even that would have been +some relief to me: but now all is despair. I saw him just when he was +going away, but for a moment; till the last instant he was not to be +seen; then, in spite of all his command of countenance, I discerned +strong marks of agitation; but towards me an air of resentment, more +than any disposition to kinder thoughts. I fancy that he scarcely knew +what he said, nor, I am sure, did I. He talked, I remember, of having +immediate business in town, and I endeavoured to believe him. Contrary +to his usual composed manner, he was in such haste to be gone, that I +was obliged to send his watch and purse after him, which he had left on +his dressing-table. How melancholy his room looked to me! His clothes +just as he had left them—a rose which Lady Olivia gave him yesterday +was in water on his table. My letter was not there; so he has it, +probably unread. He will read it some time or other, perhaps—and some +time or other, perhaps, when I am dead and gone, he will believe I loved +him. Could he have known what I felt at the moment when he turned from +me, he would have pitied me; for his nature, his character, cannot be +quite altered in a few months, though he has ceased to love Leonora. +From the window of his own room I watched for the last glimpse of +him—heard him call to the postilions, and bid them "drive +fast—faster." This was the last sound I heard of his voice. When shall +I hear that voice again? I think that I shall certainly hear from him +the day after to-morrow—and I wish to-day and to-morrow were gone.</p> + +<p>I am afraid that you will think me very weak; but, my dear mother, I +have no motive for fortitude now; and perhaps it might have been better +for me, if I had not exerted so much. I begin to fear that all my +fortitude is mistaken for indifference. Something Mr L—— said the +other day about sensibility and sacrifices gave me this idea. +Sensibility!—It has been my hard task for some months past to repress +mine, that it might not give pain or disgust. I have done all that my +reason and my dearest mother counselled; surely I cannot have done +wrong. How apt we are to mistake the opinion or the taste of the man we +love for the rule of right! Sacrifices! What sacrifices can I make?—All +that I have, is it not his?—My whole heart, is it not his?—Myself, all +that I am, all that I <i>can</i> be? Have I not left with him of late, +without recalling to his mind the idea that I suffer by his neglect? +Have I not lived his heart at liberty, and can I make a greater +sacrifice? I really do not understand what he means by sacrifices. A +woman who loves her husband is part of him; whatever she does for him is +for herself. I wish he would explain to me what he can mean by +sacrifices—but when will he ever again explain his thoughts and +feelings to me?</p> + +<p>My dearest mother, it has been a relief to my mind to write all this to +you; if there is no sense in it, you will forgive and encourage me by +your affection and strength of mind, which, in all situations, have such +power to soothe and support your daughter.</p> + +<p>The Prince ——, who spent a fortnight here, paid me particular +attention.</p> + +<p>The prince talked of soon paying us another visit. If he should, I will +not receive him in Mr L——'s absence. This may seem like vanity or +prudery; but no matter what it appears, if it is right.</p> + +<p>Well might you, my best friend, bid me beware of forming an intimacy +with an unprincipled woman. I have suffered severely for neglecting your +counsels; how much I have still to endure is yet to be tried: but I can +never be entirely miserable whilst I possess, and whilst I hope that I +deserve, the affection of such a mother.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter liij.</h2> + +<h3><i>The Duchess of —— to her daughter.</i></h3> + + +<p>If my approbation and affection can sustain you in this trying +situation, your fortitude will not forsake you, my beloved daughter. +Great minds rise in adversity; they are always equal to the trial, and +superior to injustice: betrayed and deserted, they feel their own force, +and they rely upon themselves. Be yourself, my Leonora! Persevere as you +have begun, and, trust me, you will be happy. I abide by my first +opinion, I repeat my prophecy—your husband's esteem, affection, love, +will be permanently yours. Change of circumstances, however alarming, +cannot shake the fixed judgment of my understanding. Character, as you +justly observe, cannot utterly change in a few months. Your husband is +deceived, he is now as one in the delirium of a fever: he will recover +his senses, and see Lady Olivia and you such as you are.</p> + +<p>You do not explain, and I take it for granted you have good reasons for +not explaining to me more fully, the immediate cause of your letter to +Lady Olivia. I am sorry that any cause should have thrown her upon the +protection of Mr L——; for a man of honour and generosity feels himself +bound to treat with tenderness a woman who appears to sacrifice +everything for his sake. Consider this in another point of view, and it +will afford you subject of consolation; for it is always a consolation +to good minds to think those whom they love less to blame than they +appear to be. You will be more calm and patient when you reflect that +your husband's absence may be prolonged by a mistaken sense of honour. +From the nature of his connexion with Lady Olivia it cannot last long. +Had she saved appearances, and engaged him in a sentimental affair, it +might have been far more dangerous to your happiness.</p> + +<p>I entirely approve of your conduct with respect to the prince: it is +worthy of my child, and just what I should have expected from her. The +artifices of coquettes, and all the <i>art</i> of love is beneath her; she +has far other powers and resources, and need not strive to maintain her +dignity by vengeance. I admire your magnanimity, and I still more admire +your good sense; for high spirit is more common in our sex than good +sense. Few know how and when they should sacrifice small considerations +to great ones. You say that you will not receive the prince in your +husband's absence, though this may be attributed to prudery or vanity, +&c. &c. You are quite right. How many silly women sacrifice the +happiness of their lives to the idea of what women or men, as silly as +themselves, will say or think of their motives. How many absurd heroines +of romance, and of those who imitate them in real life, do we see, who +can never act with common sense or presence of mind: if a man's carriage +breaks down, or his horse is tired at the end of their avenues, or for +some such ridiculous reason, they must do the very reverse of all they +know to be prudent. Perpetually exposed, by a fatal concurrence of +circumstances, to excite the jealousy of their lovers and husbands, they +create the necessity to which they fall a victim. I rejoice that I +cannot feel any apprehension of my daughter's conducting herself like +one of these novel-bred ladies.</p> + +<p>I am sorry, my dear, that Lady M—— and your friends have left you: +yet even in this there may be good. Your affairs will be made less +public, and you will be less the subject of impertinent curiosity. I +advise you, however, to mix as much as usual with your neighbours in the +country: your presence, and the dignity of your manners, will impose +silence upon idle tongues. No wife of real spirit solicits the world for +compassion: she who does not court popularity ensures respect.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dearest child: the time will come when your husband will feel +the full merit of your fortitude; when he will know how to distinguish +between true and false sensibility; between the love of an Olivia and of +a Leonora.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter liv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to Miss B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Jan. 26.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Margaret</span>,</p></div> + +<p>I shall never forgive myself. I fear I have done Leonora irreparable +injury; and, dear magnanimous sufferer, she has never reproached me! In +a fit of indignation and imprudent zeal I made a discovery, which has +produced a total breach between Leonora and Lady Olivia, and in +consequence of this Mr L—— has gone off with her ladyship * * * * * * +* * * * * * We have heard nothing from Mr L—— since his departure, and +Leonora is more unhappy than ever, and my imprudence is the cause of +this. Yet she continues to love me. She is an angel! I have promised her +not to mention her affairs in future even in any of my letters to you, +dear Margaret. Pray quiet any reports you may hear, and stop idle +tongues.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,</p></div> + +<p>I do not think I could have borne with temper from any other man +breathing the last letter which I received from you. I am sensible that +it was written with the best intentions for my happiness; but I must now +inform you, that the lady in question has accepted of my protection, and +consequently no man who esteems me can treat her with disrespect.</p> + +<p>It is no longer a question, what she will sacrifice for me; she has +shown the greatest generosity and tenderness of soul; and I should +despise myself, if I did not exert every power to make her happy.—We +are at Richmond: but if you write, direct to me at my house in town.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours sincerely,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>Dream your dream out, my dear L——. Since you are angry with me, as +Solander was with Sir Joseph Banks for awakening him, I shall not take +the liberty of shaking you any more. I believe I shook you rather too +roughly: but I assure you it was for your good, as people always tell +their friends when they do the most disagreeable things imaginable. +Forgive me, and I will let you dream in peace. You will however allow +me to watch by you whilst you sleep; and, my dear somnambulist, I may +just take care that you do not knock your head against a post, or fall +into a well.</p> + +<p>I hope you will not have any objection to my paying my respects to Lady +Olivia when I come to town, which, I flatter myself, I shall be able to +do shortly. The fortifications here are almost completed.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond, ——.</p> + +<p>Happy!—No, my dear Gabrielle, nor shall I ever be happy, whilst I have +not exclusive possession of the heart of the man I love. I have +sacrificed everything to him; I have a right to expect that he should +sacrifice at least a wife for me—a wife whom he only esteems. But L—— +has not sufficient strength of mind to liberate himself from the cobwebs +which restrain those who talk of conscience, and who, in fact, are only +superstitious. I see with indignation, that his soul is continually +struggling between passion for me and a something, I know not what to +call it, that he feels for this wife. His thoughts are turning towards +home. I believe that to an Englishman's ears there is some magic in the +words <i>home</i> and <i>wife</i>. I used to think foreigners ridiculous for +associating the ideas of milord Anglois with roast beef and pudding; but +I begin to see that they are quite right, and that an Englishman has a +certain set of inveterate <i>homely</i> prejudices, which are necessary to +his well-being, and almost to his existence. You may entice him into the +land of sentiment, and for a time keep him there; but refine and polish +and enlighten him as you will, he recurs to his own plain sense, as he +terms it, on the first convenient opportunity. In short, it is lost +labour to civilize him, for sooner or later he will <i>hottentot</i> again. +Pray introduce that term, Gabrielle—<i>you</i> can translate it. For my +part, I can introduce nothing here; my manière d'être is really +insupportable; my talents are lost; I, who am accustomed to shine in +society, see nobody; I might, as Josephine every day observes, as well +be buried alive. Retirement and love are charming; but then it must be +perfect love—not the equivocating sort that L——feels for me, which +keeps the word of promise only to the ear. I bear every sort of +désagrément for him; I make myself a figure for the finger of scorn to +point at, and he insults me with esteem for a wife. Can you conceive +this, my amiable Gabrielle?—No, there are ridiculous points in the +characters of my countrymen which you will never be able to comprehend. +And what is still more incomprehensible, it is my fate to love this man; +yes, passionately to love him!—But he must give me proof of reciprocal +passion. I have too much spirit to sacrifice everything for him, who +will sacrifice nothing for me. Besides, I have another motive. To you, +my faithful Gabrielle, I open my whole heart.—Pride inspires me as well +as love. I am resolved that Leonora, the haughty Leonora, shall live to +repent of having insulted and exasperated Olivia. In some situations +contempt can be answered only by vengeance; and when the malice of a +contracted and illiberal mind provokes it, revenge is virtue. Leonora +has called me her enemy, and consequently has made me such. 'Tis she has +declared the war! 'tis for me to decide the victory!</p> + +<p>L——, I know, has the offer of an embassy to Petersburg.—He shall +accept it.—I will accompany him thither. Lady Leonora may, in his +absence, console herself with her august counsellor and mother:—that +proudest of earthly paragons is yet to be taught the extent of Olivia's +power. Adieu, my charming Gabrielle! I will carry your tenderest +remembrances to our brilliant Russian princess. She has often invited +me, you know, to pay her a visit, and this will be the ostensible object +of my journey. A horrible journey, to be sure!!!—But what will not love +undertake and accomplish, especially when goaded by pride, and +inspirited by great revenge?</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>Victim to the delusions of passion, too well I know my danger, and now, +even now foresee my miserable fate. Too well I know that the delicious +poison which spreads through my frame exalts, entrances, but to destroy. +Too well I know that the meteor fire, which shines so bright on my path, +entices me forward but to plunge me in the depths of infamy. The long +warnings of recorded time teach me, that perjured man triumphs, +disdains, and abandons. Too well, alas! I know these fatal truths; too +well I feel my approaching doom. Yet, infatuated as I am, prescience +avails not; the voice of prudence warns, the hand of Heaven beckons me +in vain.</p> + +<p>My friend! my more than friend, my lover! beloved beyond expression! you +to whom I immolate myself, you for whom I sacrifice more than life, O +whisper words of peace! for you, and you alone, can tranquillize this +agitated bosom. Assure me, L——, if with truth you can assure me, that +I have no rival in your affections. O tell me that the name of wife +does not invalidate the claims of love! Repeat for me, a thousand times +repeat, that I am sole possessor of your heart!</p> + +<p>The moment you quit me I am overpowered with melancholy forebodings. +Scarcely are you out of my sight, before I dread that I should never see +you more, or that some fatality should deprive me of your love. When +shall the sails of love waft us from this dangerous shore? O! when shall +I dare to call you mine? Heavens! how many things may intervene. . . . +Let nothing detain you from Richmond this evening; but come not at +all—come no more, unless to reassure my trembling heart, and to +convince me that love and Olivia have banished every other image.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear General</span>,</p></div> + +<p>I am come to a resolution to accept of that embassy to Russia which I +lately refused. My mind has been in such constant anxiety for some time +past, that my health has suffered, and change of air and place are +necessary to me. You will say, that the climate of Russia is a strange +choice for an invalid: I could indeed have wished for a milder; but in +this world we must be content with the least of two evils. I wish to +have some ostensible reason for going abroad, and this embassy is the +only one that presents itself in an unquestionable shape. Anything is +better than staying where I am, and <i>as</i> I am. My motives are not so +entirely personal and selfish as I have stated them. A man who has a +grain of feeling cannot endure to see the woman whom he loves, whose +only failing is her love, living in a state of dereliction, exposed to +the silent scorn of her equals and inferiors, if not to open insult. All +her fine talents, every advantage of nature and education sacrificed, +and her sensibility to shame a perpetual source of misery. A man must be +a brute if he do not feel for a woman whose affection for him has +reduced her to this situation. My delicacy as to female manners, and the +high value I set upon public opinion in all that concerns the sex, make +me peculiarly susceptible and wretched in my present circumstances. To +raise the drooping spirits, and support the self-approbation of a woman, +who is conscious that she has forfeited her claim to respect—to make +love supply the place of all she has sacrificed to love, is a difficult +and exquisitely painful task. My feelings render hers more acute, and +the very precautions which I take, however delicate, alarm and wound her +pride, by reminding her of all she wishes to forget. In this country no +woman, who is not lost to shame, can bear to live without +reputation.——I pass over a great many intermediate ideas, my dear +general; your sense and feeling will supply them. You see the +expediency, the necessity of my accepting this embassy. Olivia urges, +how can I refuse it? She wishes to accompany me. She made this offer +with such decision of spirit, with such passionate tenderness, as +touched me to the very soul. A woman who really loves absolutely devotes +herself, and becomes insensible to every difficulty and danger; to her +all parts of the world are like; all she fears is to be separated from +the object of her affections.</p> + +<p>But the very excess of certain passions proves them to be genuine. Even +whilst we blame the rashness of those who act from the enthusiasm of +their natures, whilst we foresee all the perils to which they seem +blind, we tremble at their danger, we grow more and more interested for +them every moment, we admire their courage, we long to snatch them from +their fate, we are irresistibly hurried along with them down the +precipice.</p> + +<p>But why do I say all this to you, my dear general? To no man upon earth +could it be more ineffectually addressed. Let me see you, however, +before we leave England. It would be painful to me to quit this country +without taking leave of you, notwithstanding all that you have lately +done to thwart my inclinations, and notwithstanding all I may expect you +to say when we meet. Probably I shall be detained here some weeks, as I +must wait for instructions from our court. I write this day to Lady +Leonora, to inform her that I am appointed ambassador to Russia. She +shall have all the honours of war; she shall be treated with all the +respect to which she is so well entitled. I suppose she will wish to +reside with her mother during my absence. She cannot do better: she will +then be in the most eligible situation, and I shall be relieved from all +anxiety upon her account. She will be perfectly happy with her mother. I +have often thought that she was much happier before she married me than +she has been since our union.</p> + +<p>I have some curiosity to know whether she will see the prince when I am +gone. Do not mistake me; I am not jealous: I have too little love, and +too much esteem for Leonora, to feel the slightest jealousy. I have no +doubt, that if I were to stay in Russia for ten years, and if all the +princes and potentates in Europe were to be at her feet, my wife would +conduct herself with the most edifying propriety: but I am a little +curious to know how far vanity or pride can console a virtuous woman for +the absence of love.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lx.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris.</p> + +<p>You are really decided then to go to Russia, my amiable friend, and you +will absolutely undertake this horrible voyage! And you are not +intimidated by the idea of the immense distance between Petersburg and +Paris! Alas! I had hoped soon to see you again. The journey from my +convent to Paris was the longest and most formidable that I ever +undertook, and at this moment it appears to me terrible; you may +conceive therefore my admiration of your courage and strength of mind, +my dear Olivia, who are going to brave the ocean, turning your back on +Paris, and every moment receding from our polished centre of attraction, +to perish perhaps among mountains of ice. Mon Dieu! it makes me shudder +to think of it. But if it pleases Heaven that you should once arrive at +Petersburg, you will crown your tresses with diamonds, you will envelop +yourself with those superb furs of the north, and smiling at all the +dangers you have passed, you will be yourself a thousand times more +dangerous than they. You, who have lived so long at Paris, who speak our +language in all its shades of elegance; you, who have divined all our +secrets of pleasing, who have caught our very air,</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Et la grace, encore plus belle que la beauté;"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>you, who are absolutely a French woman, and a Parisian, what a sensation +you will produce at Petersburg!—Quels succès vous attendent!—Quels +hommages!</p> + +<p>You will have the goodness to offer my tenderest sentiments, and the +assurances of my perfect respect, to our dear princess; you will also +find the proper moment to remind her of the promise she made to send me +specimens of the fine ermines and sables of her country. For my part, I +used to be, I confess, in a great error with respect to furs: I always +acknowledged them to be rich, but avoided them as heavy; I considered +them as fitter for the stiff magnificence of an empress of all the +Russias than for the light elegance of a Parisian beauty; but our +charming princess convinced me that this is a heresy in taste. When I +beheld the grace with which she wore her ermine, and the art with which +she knew how to vary its serpent folds as she moved, or as she spoke; +the variety it gave to her costume and attitudes; the development it +afforded to a fine hand and arm, the resource in the pauses of +conversation, and that soft and attractive air which it seemed to impart +even to the play of her wit, I could no longer refuse my homage to +ermine. Such is the despotism of beauty over all the objects of taste +and fashion; and so it is, that a woman of sense, address, and +sentiment, let her be born or thrown by fate where she may, will always +know how to avail herself of every possible advantage of nature and art. +Nothing will be too trifling or too vast for her genius.</p> + +<p>I must make you understand me, my dear Olivia; your Gabrielle is not so +frivolous as simpletons imagine. Frivolity is an excellent, because an +unsuspected mask, under which serious and important designs may be +safely concealed. I would explain myself further, but must now go to the +opera to see the new ballet. Let me know, my interesting, my sublime +Olivia, when you are positively determined on your voyage to Petersburg; +and then you shall become acquainted with your friend as a politician. +Her friendship for you will not be confined to a mere intercourse of +sentiment, but will, if you have courage to second her views, give you a +secret yet decisive weight and consequence, of which you have hitherto +never dreamed.—Adieu.—These gentlemen are so impatient, I must go. +Burn the last page of this letter, and the whole of my next as soon as +you have read it, I conjure you, my dear.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxi.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear L——.</span></p></div> + +<p>I have time but to write one line to satisfy that philosophical +curiosity, which, according to your injunctions, I will not denominate +jealousy—except when I talk to myself.</p> + +<p>You have a philosophical curiosity to know whether your wife will see +the prince in your absence. I saw his favourite yesterday, who +complained to me, that his highness had been absolutely refused +admittance at your castle, notwithstanding he had made many ingenious +and some bold attempts to see Lady Leonora L—— in the absence of her +faithless husband.</p> + +<p>As to your scheme of going to Russia, you will be obliged, luckily, to +wait for some time for instruction, and in the interval, it is to be +hoped you will recover your senses. I shall see you as soon as possible.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Lady Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris.</p> + +<p>As our vanity always endeavours to establish a balance between our own +perfections and those of our friends, I must flatter myself, my dear +Olivia, that in compensation for that courage and ardent imagination in +which you are so much my superior, I possess some little advantages over +you in my scientific, hereditary knowledge of court intrigue, and of the +arts of representation; all which will be necessary to you in your +character of ambassadress: you will in fact deserve this title, for of +course you will govern the English ambassador, whom you honour with your +love. And of course you will appear with splendour, and you will be +particularly careful to have your <i>traineau</i> well appointed. Pray +remember that one of your horses must gallop, whilst the other trots, or +you are nobody. It will also be absolutely necessary to have a numerous +retinue of servants, because this suits the Russian idea of +magnificence. You must have, as the Russian nobles always had in Paris, +four servants constantly to attend your equipage; one to carry the +flambeau, another to open the door, and a couple to carry you into and +out of your carriage. I beseech you to bear in mind perpetually, that +you are to be as helpless as possible. A Frenchman of my acquaintance, +who spent nine years in Russia, told me, that in his first setting out +at Petersburg, he was put on his guard in this particular by a speech of +his Russian valet de chambre:—"Sir, the Englishman you visited to-day +cannot be worthy of your acquaintance; he cannot be a gentleman. Son +valet me dit qu'il se déshabille seul!!!"</p> + +<p>I suppose you take Josephine with you; she will be an inestimable +treasure; and I shall make it my business to send you the first advices +of Paris fashions, which her talents will not fail to comprehend and +execute. My charming Olivia! you will be the model of taste and +elegance! Do not suspect that dress is carrying me away from politics. +I assure you I know what I am about, and am going straight to my object. +The art of attending to trifles is the art of governing the world, as +all historians know, who have gone to the bottom of affairs. Was not the +face of Europe changed by a dish of tea thrown on Mrs Masham's gown, as +Voltaire with penetrating genius remarks? Women, without a doubt, +understand the importance of trifles better than men do, and +consequently always move in secret the slight springs of that vast +machine, the civilized world. Is not your ambition roused, my Olivia? +You must, however, lay aside a little of your romance, and not approach +the political machine whilst you are intoxicated with love, else you +will blunder infallibly, and do infinite and irreparable mischief to +yourself and your friends.</p> + +<p>Permit me to tell you, that you have been a little spoiled by +sentimental novels, which are good only to talk of when one must show +sensibility, but destructive as rules of action. By the false lights +which these writers, who know nothing of the world, have thrown upon +objects, you have been deluded; you have been led to mistake the means +for the end. Love has been with you the sole end of love; whereas it +ought to be the beginning of power. No matter for the past: the future +is yours: at our age this future must be dexterously managed. A woman of +spirit, and, what is better, of sense, must always take care that in her +heart the age of love is not prolonged beyond the age of being beloved. +In these times a woman has no choice at a certain period but politics, +or bel esprit; for devotion, which used to be a resource, is no longer +in fashion. We must all take a part, my dear; I assure you I have taken +mine decidedly, and I predict that you will take yours with brilliant +success. How often must one cry in the ears of lovers—Love must die! +must die! must die! But you, my dear Olivia, will not be deaf to the +warning voice of common sense. Your own experience has on former +occasions convinced you, that passion cannot be eternal; and at present, +if I mistake not, there is in your love a certain mixture of other +feelings, a certain alloy, which will make it happily ductile and +manageable. When your triumph over the wife is complete, passion for the +husband will insensibly decay; and this will be fortunate for you, +because assuredly your ambassador would not choose to remain all the +rest of his days in love and in exile at Petersburg. All these English +are afflicted with the maladie du pays; and, as you observe so well, the +words home and wife have ridiculous but unconquerable power over their +minds. What will become of you, my friend, when this Mr L——chooses to +return to England to his castle, &c.? You could not accompany him. You +must provide in time against this catastrophe, or you will be a +deserted, disgraced, undone woman, my dear friend.</p> + +<p>No one should begin to act a romance who has not well considered the +dénouement. It is a charming thing to mount with a friend in a balloon, +amid crowds of spectators, who admire the fine spectacle, and applaud +the courage of the aërostats; the losing sight of this earth, and the +being in or above the clouds, must also be delightful: but the moment +will come when the travellers descend, and then begins the danger; then +they differ about throwing out the ballast, the balloon is rent in the +quarrel, it sinks with frightful rapidity, and they run the hazard, like +the poor Marquis d'Arlande, of being spitted upon the spire of the +Invalides, or of being entangled among woods and briers—at last, +alighting upon the earth, our adventurers, fatigued and bruised, and +disappointed, come out of their shattered triumphal car, exposed to the +derision of the changeable multitude.</p> + +<p>Everything in this world is judged of by success. Your voyage to +Petersburg, my dear Olivia, must not be a mere adventure of romance; as +a party of pleasure it would be ridiculous; we must make something more +of it. Enclosed is a letter to a Russian nobleman, an old lover of mine, +who I understand is in favour. He will certainly be at your command. He +is a man possessed by the desire of having reputation among foreigners, +vain of the preference of our sex, generous even to prodigality. By his +means you will be immediately placed on an easy footing with all the +leading persons of the Russian court. You will go on from one step to +another, till you are at the height which I have in view. Now for my +grand object.—No, not now—for I have forty little notes about nothings +to write this morning. Great things hang upon these nothings, so they +should not be neglected. I must leave you, my amiable Olivia, and defer +my grand object till to-morrow.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxiij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to the Duchess of ——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Mother</span>,</p></div> + +<p>This moment I have received a letter from Mr L——. He has accepted of +an embassy to Petersburg. I cannot guess by the few lines he has +written, whether or not he wishes that I should accompany him. Most +ardently I wish it; but if my offer should be refused, or if it should +be accepted only because it could not be well refused; if I should be a +burthen, a restraint upon him, I should wish myself dead.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he accepts of this embassy on purpose that he may leave me and +take another person with him: or perhaps, dearest mother (I hardly dare +to hope it)—perhaps he wishes to break off that connexion, and goes to +Russia to leave temptation behind him. I know that this embassy was +offered to him some weeks ago, and he had then no thoughts of accepting +it.—O that I could see into his heart—that heart which used to be +always open to me! If I could discover what his wishes are, I should +know what mine ought to be. I have thoughts of going to town immediately +to see him; at least I may take leave of him. Do you approve of it? +Write the moment you receive this: but I need not say that, for I am +sure you will do so. Dearest mother, you have prophesied that his heart +will return to me, and on this hope I live.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your ever affectionate daughter,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxiv.</h2> + +<h3><i>The Duchess of —— to Leonora.</i></h3> + + +<p>Yes, my dear, I advise you by all means to go to town, and to see your +husband. Your desire to accompany him to Russia he will know before you +see him, for I have just written and despatched an express to him with +your last letter, and with all those which I have received from you +within these last six months. Leave Mr L—— time to read them before he +sees you; and do not hurry or fatigue yourself unnecessarily. You know +that an embassy cannot be arranged in two days; therefore travel by easy +journeys: you cannot do otherwise without hazard. Your courage in +offering to undertake this long voyage with your husband is worthy of +you, my beloved daughter. God bless and preserve you! If you go to +Petersburg, let me know in time, that I may see you before you leave +England. I will be at any moment at any place you appoint.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your affectionate mother,</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxv.</h2> + +<h3><i>The Duchess of —— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>Perhaps this letter may find you at the feet of your mistress. Spare me, +sir, a few moments from your pleasures. You may perhaps expect +reproaches from the mother of your wife; but let me assure you, that you +have none to apprehend. For my daughter's sake, if not for yours, I +would forbear. Never was departing love recalled by the voice of +reproach; you shall not hear it from me, you have not heard it from +Leonora. But mistake not the cause of her forbearance; let it not be +attributed to pusillanimity of temper, or insensibility of heart.</p> + +<p>Enclosed I send you all the letters which my daughter has written to me +from the first day of her acquaintance with Lady Olivia to this hour. +From these you will be enabled to judge of what she has felt for some +months past, and of the actual state of her heart; you will see all the +tenderness and all the strength of her soul.</p> + +<p>It has ever been my fixed opinion, that a wife who loves her husband, +and who has possessed his affections, may reclaim them from the lure of +the most artful of her sex, by persevering kindness, temper, and good +sense, unless indeed her husband be a fool or a libertine. I have +prophesied that my daughter will regain your heart; and upon this +prophecy, to use her own expression, she lives. And even now, when its +accomplishment is far removed, I am so steady in my opinion of her and +of you; so convinced of the uniform result of certain conduct upon the +human mind, that undismayed I repeat my prophecy.</p> + +<p>Were you to remain in this kingdom, I should leave things to their +natural course; I should not interfere so far even as to send you +Leonora's letters: but as you may be separated for years, I think it +necessary now to put into your hands incontrovertible proofs of what she +is, and what she has been. Do not imagine that I am so weak as to expect +that the perusal of these letters will work a sudden change: but it is +fit, that before you leave England you should know that Leonora is not a +cold, sullen, or offended wife; but one who loves you most tenderly, +most generously; who, concealing the agony of her heart, waits with +resignation for the time when she will be your refuge, and the permanent +blessing of your life.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris.</p> + +<p>And now, my charming Olivia, raise your fine eyes as high as ambition +can look, and you will perhaps discover my grand object. You do not see +it yet. Look again.—Do you not see the Emperor of Russia? What would +you think of him for a lover? If it were only for novelty's sake, it +would really be pleasant to have a czar at one's feet. Reign in his +heart, and you in fact seat yourself invisibly on the throne of all the +Russias: thence what a commanding prospect you have of the affairs of +Europe! and how we should govern the world at our ease! The project is +bold, but not impracticable. The ancients represent Cupid riding the +Numidian lion; and why should he not tame the Russian bear? It would +make a pretty design for a vignette. I can engrave as well as La +Pompadour could at least, and anticipating your victory, my charming +Olivia, I will engrave Cupid leading the bear in a chain of flowers. +This shall be my seal. Mon cachet de faveur.</p> + +<p>Courage, my fair politician! You have a difficult task; but the glory is +in proportion to the labour; and those who value power properly are paid +by its acquisition for all possible fatigue and hardships. With your +knowledge of our modes, you will be at Petersburg the arbitress of +delights. You have a charming taste and invention for fêtes and +spectacles. Teach these people to vary their pleasures. Their monarch +must adore you, if you banish from his presence that most dreadful enemy +of kings, and most obstinate resident of courts, <i>ennui</i>. Trust, my +Olivia, neither to your wit, nor your beauty, nor your accomplishments, +but employ your "various arts of trifling prettily," and, take my word +for it, you will succeed.</p> + +<p>As I may not have an opportunity of sending you another private letter, +and as lemon-juice, goulard, and all those sympathetic inks, are subject +to unlucky accidents, I must send you all my secret instructions by the +present safe conveyance.</p> + +<p>You must absolutely sacrifice, my dear child, all your romantic notions, +and all your taste for love, to the grand object. The czar must not have +the slightest cause for jealousy. These czars make nothing, you know, of +cutting off their mistresses' pretty heads upon the bare suspicion of an +intrigue. But you must do what is still more difficult than to be +constant, you must yield your will, and, what is more, you must never +let this czar guess that his will is not always your pleasure. Your +humour, your tastes, your wishes, must be incessantly and with alacrity +sacrificed to his. You must submit to the constraint of eternal court +ceremony and court dissimulation. You must bear to be surrounded with +masks, instead of the human face divine; and instead of +fellow-creatures, you must content yourself with puppets. You will have +the amusement of pulling the wires: but remember that you must wear a +mask perpetually as well as others, and never attempt to speak, and +never expect to hear the language of truth or of the heart. You must not +be the dupe of attachment in those who call themselves friends, or +zealous and affectionate servants, &c. &c. You must have sufficient +strength of character to bear continually in mind that all these +professions are mere words, that all these people are alike false, and +actuated but by one motive, self-interest. To secure yourself from +secret and open enemies, you must farther have sufficient courage to +live without a friend or a confidante, for such persons at court are +only spies, traitors in the worst forms. All this is melancholy and +provoking, to be sure; but all this you must see without feeling, or at +least without showing a spark of indignation. A sentimental +misanthropist, male or female, is quite out of place at court. You must +see all that is odious and despicable in human nature in a comic point +of view; and you must consider your fellow-creatures as objects to be +laughed at, not to be hated. Laughter, besides being good for the +health, and consequently for the complexion, always implies superiority. +Without this gratification to our vanity there would be no possibility +of enduring that eternal penance of hypocrisy, and that solitary state +of suspicion, to which the ambitious condemn themselves. I fear, my +romantic Olivia, that you, who are a person used to yield to first +impressions, and not quite accustomed to subdue your passions to your +interest, will think that politics require too much from you, almost as +much as constancy or religion. But consider the difference! for Heaven's +sake, my dear, consider the greatness of our object! Would to God that I +had the eloquence of Bossuet, and I would make you a convert from love +and a proselyte to glory. Dare, my Olivia, to be a martyr to +ambition!—See! already high in air she holds a crown over your head—it +is almost within your grasp—stretch out your white arm and seize +it—fear not the thorns!—every crown has thorns—but who upon that +account ever yet refused one? My dear empress, I have the honour to kiss +your powerful hands.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,</p></div> + +<p>You need not hurry yourself to come to town on my account, for by this +change of ministry my embassy will be delayed some weeks.</p> + +<p>A few days ago this delay would have been a terrible disappointment to +me; yet now I feel it a respite. A respite! you will exclaim. Yes, my +dear friend—so it is. Such is the heart of man!—so changeable, so +contradictory, so much at variance with itself from day to day, from +hour to hour. I believe, from what I now feel, that every man under the +dominion of passion is reduced to a most absurd and miserable +condition.—I have just been reading some letters from Leonora, which +have wrung my heart; letters addressed to her mother, laying open every +feeling of her mind for some months. My dear friend, what injustice +have I done to this admirable woman! With what tenderness, with what +delicacy has she loved me! while I, mistaking modesty for coldness, +fortitude for indifference, have neglected, injured, and abandoned her! +With what sweetness of temper, with what persevering goodness has she +borne with me, while, intoxicated with passion, I saw everything in a +false point of view! How often have I satisfied myself with the +persuasion, that she scarcely observed my attachment to Olivia, or +beheld it unconcerned, secure by the absence of love from the pangs of +jealousy! How often have I accused her of insensibility, whilst her +heart was in tortures! Olivia was deceived also, and confirmed me in +this cruel error. And all that time Leonora was defending her rival, and +pleading her cause! With what generosity, with what magnanimity she +speaks of Olivia in those letters! Her confidence was unbounded, her +soul above suspicion; to the very last she doubted and blamed +herself—dear amiable woman! blamed herself for our faults, for feeling +that jealousy, which no wife who loved as she did could possibly subdue. +She never betrayed it by a single word or look of reproach. Even though +she fainted at that cursed fête champêtre, yet the moment she came to +her senses, she managed so that none of the spectators could suspect she +thought Olivia was her rival. My dear general, you will forgive me—as +long as I praise Leonora you will understand me. At last you will +acknowledge that I do justice to the merits of my wife. Justice! no—I +am unworthy of her. I have no heart like hers to offer in return for +such love. She wishes to go with me to Petersburg; she has forborne to +make this offer directly to me; but I know it from her last letter to +her mother, which now lies before me. How can I refuse?—and how can I +accept? My soul is torn with violence different ways. How can I leave +Leonora; and how can I tear myself from Olivia!—even if her charms had +no power over my heart, how could I with honour desert the woman who has +sacrificed everything for me! I will not shield myself from you, my +friend, behind the word honour. See me as you have always seen me, +without disguise, and now without defence. I respect, I love +Leonora—but, alas! I am in love with Olivia!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours ever,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p>Triumphant as you are over my heart, dear enchanting Olivia! you cannot +make me false. I cannot, even to appease your anger, deny this morning +what I said last night. It is inconsistent with all your professions, +with your character, with your generous disposition, to desire me to +"<i>abjure Leonora for ever</i>!" it would be to render myself for ever +unworthy of Olivia. I am convinced, that had you read the letters of +which I spoke, you would have been touched, you would have been struck +by them as I was: instead of being hurt and displeased by the impression +that they made upon me, you would have sympathized in my feelings, you +would have been indignant if I had not admired, you would have detested +and despised me if I could have been insensible to "<i>so much goodness +and generosity</i>." I repeat my words: I will not "<i>retract</i>," I cannot +"<i>repent of them</i>." My dear Olivia! when you reflect upon what is past, +I am persuaded you will acknowledge that your sensibility made you +unjust. Indeed, my love, you did not show your usual candour; I had +just read all that Leonora had written of you, all that she had urged +against her mother in your defence; even when she had most cause to be +irritated against us, I could not avoid being shocked by the different +manner in which you spoke of her. Perhaps I told you so too abruptly: if +I had loved you less, I should have been more cautious and more calm—if +I had esteemed you less, calmer still. I could then, possibly, have +borne to hear you speak in a manner unbecoming yourself. Forgive me the +pain I gave you—the pain I now give you, my dearest Olivia! My +sincerity is the best security you can have for my future love. Banish +therefore this unjust, this causeless jealousy: moderate this excessive +sensibility for both our sakes, and depend upon the power you have over +my heart. You cannot conceive how much I have felt from this +misunderstanding—the first we have ever had. Let it be the last. I have +spent a sleepless night. I am detained in town by provoking, tiresome, +but necessary business. Meet me in the evening with smiles, my Olivia: +let me behold in those fascinating eyes their wonted expression, and +hear from your voice its usual, its natural tone of tenderness and love.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Ever devotedly yours,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>You have spoken daggers to me! Come not to Richmond this evening! I +cannot—will not see you! Not for the universe would I see you with my +present feelings!</p> + +<p>Write to me more letters like that which I have just received. Dip your +pen in gall; find words more bitter than those which you have already +used. Accuse me of want of candour, want of generosity, want of every +amiable, every estimable quality. Upbraid me with the loss of all of +which you have bereft me. Recollect every sacrifice that I have made, +and, if you can, imagine every sacrifice that I would still make for +you—peace of mind, friends, country, fortune, fame, virtue; name them +all, and triumph—and disdain your triumph! Remind me how low I am +fallen—sink me lower still—insult, debase, humble me to the dust. +Exalt my rival, unroll to my aching eyes the emblazoned catalogue of her +merits, her claims to your esteem, your affection; number them over, +dwell upon those that I have forfeited, those which can never be +regained; tell me that such merits are above all price; assure me that +beyond all her sex you respect, you admire, you love your wife; say it +with enthusiasm, with fire in your eyes, with all the energy of passion +in your voice; then bid me sympathize in your feelings—bid me banish +jealousy—wonder at my alarm—call my sorrow anger—conjure me to +restrain my sensibility! Restrain my sensibility! Unhappy Olivia! he is +tired of your love. Let him then at once tell me the dreadful truth, and +I will bear it. Any evil is better than uncertainty, than lingering +hope. Drive all hope from my mind. Bid me despair and die—but do not +stretch me on the rack of jealousy!—Yet if such be your cruel pleasure, +enjoy it.—Determine how much I can endure and live. Stop just at the +point when human nature sinks, that you may not lose your victim, that +she may linger on from day to day, your sport and your derision.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxx.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear General</span>,</p></div> + +<p>You will rejoice to hear that Olivia and I have been in a state of +warfare for some days past, and you will be still more pleased when you +learn the cause of our quarrel. On the day that I had been reading +Leonora's letters I was rather later at Richmond than usual. Olivia, +offended, insisted upon knowing by what I could possibly have been +detained. Her anger knew no bounds when she heard the truth. She made +use of some expressions, in speaking of my wife, which I could not, I +hope, have borne at any time, but which shocked me beyond measure at +that moment. I defended Leonora with warmth. Olivia, in a scornful tone, +talked of my wife's coldness of disposition, and bid me compare Lady +Leonora's love with hers. It was a comparison I had it more in my power +to make than Olivia was aware of; it was the most disadvantageous moment +for her in which that comparison could be made. She saw or suspected my +feelings, and perceived that all she had said of my Leonora's +<i>incapability of loving</i> produced an effect directly contrary to her +expectations. Transported by jealousy, she then threw out hints +respecting the prince. I spoke as I felt, indignantly. I know not +precisely what I said, but Olivia and I parted in anger. I have since +received a passionately fond note from her. But I feel unhappy. Dear +general, when will you come to town?</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to the Duchess of ——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Madam</span>,</p></div> + +<p>Your grace's cautions and entreaties to Lady Leonora not to over-exert +and fatigue herself were, alas! as ineffectual as mine. From the time +she heard that Mr L—— had accepted this embassy to Petersburg, she was +so eager to set out on her journey to town, and so impatient to see him, +that neither her mind nor her body had one moment's tranquillity. She +waited with indescribable anxiety for your grace's answer to her letter; +and the instant she was secure of your approbation, her carriage was +ordered to the door. I saw that she was ill; but she would not listen to +my fears; she repeated with triumph, that her mother made no objection +to her journey, and that she had no apprehensions for herself. However, +she was obliged at last to yield. The carriage was actually at the door, +when she was forced to submit to be carried to her bed. For several +hours she was in such danger, that I never expected she could live till +this day. Thank God! she is now safe. Her infant, to her great delight, +is a boy: she was extremely anxious to have a son, because Mr +L——formerly wished for one so much. She forbids me to write to Mr +L——, lest I should communicate the account of her <i>sudden illness</i> too +abruptly.</p> + +<p>She particularly requests that your grace will mention to him this +<i>accident</i> in the least alarming manner possible. I shall write again +next post. Lady Leonora has now fallen asleep, and seems to sleep +quietly. Who should sleep in peace if she cannot! I never saw her +equal.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 40%;">My dear madam,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 50%;">I am,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 45%;">With respect and attachment,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 55%;">Your grace's</p> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Sincerely affectionate,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + +<p>It is with extreme concern I am forced to add, that since I wrote this +letter the child has been so ill that I have fears for his life.—His +poor mother!</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear General</span>,</p></div> + +<p>All is upon velvet again. Poor Olivia was excessively hurt by my letter: +she was ill for two days—seriously ill. Yesterday I at length obtained +admittance. Olivia was all softness, all candour: she acknowledged that +she had been wrong, and in so sweet a voice! She blamed herself till I +could no longer think her blameable. She seemed so much humbled and +depressed, such a tender melancholy appeared in her bewitching eyes, +that I could not resist the fascination. I certainly gave her some cause +for displeasure that unfortunate evening; for as Olivia has strong +passions and exquisite sensibility, I should not have been so abrupt. A +fit of jealousy may seize the best and most generous mind, and may +prompt to what it would be incapable of saying or thinking in +dispassionate moments. I am sure that Olivia has, upon reflection, felt +more pain from this affair than I have. My Russian embassy is still in +<i>abeyance</i>. Ministers seem to know their own minds as little as I know +mine. Ambition has its quarrels and follies as well as love. At all +events, I shall not leave England till next month; and I shall not go +down to L—— Castle till I have received my last instructions from our +court, and till the day for my sailing is fixed. The parting with +Leonora will be a dreadful difficulty. I cannot think of it steadily. +But as she herself says, "Is it not better that she should lose a year +of my affections than a life?" The duchess is mistaken in imagining it +possible that any woman, let her influence be ever so great over my +heart, could prejudice me against my amiable, my admirable wife. What +has just passed between Olivia and me convinces me that it is +impossible. She has too much knowledge of my character to hazard in +future a similar attempt. No, my dear friend, be assured I would not +suffer it. I have not yet lost all title to your esteem or to my own. +This enchantress may intoxicate me with her cup, but shall never degrade +me; and I should feel myself less degraded even by losing the human form +than by forfeiting that principle of honour and virtue, which more nobly +distinguishes man from brute.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Yours most sincerely,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxiij.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,</p></div> + +<p>It is well that I did not answer your letter of Saturday before I +received that of Monday. My congratulations upon your quarrel with your +fair one might have come just as you were kissing hands upon a +reconciliation.</p> + +<p>I have often found a great convenience in writing a bad hand; my letters +are so little like what they are intended for, and have among them such +equality of unintelligibility, that each seems either; and with the +slightest alteration, each will stand and serve for the other. My <i>m</i>, +<i>n</i>, and <i>u</i>, are convertible letters; so are the terms and propositions +of your present mode of reasoning, my dear L——, and I perceive that +you find your account in it. Upon this I congratulate you; and I +congratulate Lady Leonora upon your being detained some weeks longer in +England. Those who have a just cause need never pray for victory; they +need only ask the gods for time. Time always brings victory to truth, +and shame to falsehood. But you are not worthy of such fine apophthegms. +At present "you are not fit to hear yourself convinced." I will wait for +a better opportunity, and have patience with you, if I can.</p> + +<p>You seem to plume yourself mightily upon your resolve to do justice to +the merits of your wife, and upon the courage you have shown in stuffing +cotton into your ears to prevent your listening to the voice of the +siren: but pray take the cotton out, and hear all she can say or sing. +Lady Leonora cannot be hurt by anything Olivia can say, but her own +malice may destroy herself.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, as you tell me that you are upon velvet again, I am to +presume that you are perfectly at ease; and I should be obliged to you, +if, as often as you can find leisure, you would send me bulletins of +your happiness. I have never yet been in love with one of these +high-flown heroines, and I am really curious to know what degree of +felicity they can bestow upon a man of common sense. I should be glad +to profit by the experience of a friend.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxiv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Madame de P——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond.</p> + +<p>Accept my sincere thanks, inimitable Gabrielle! for having taken off my +hands a lover, who really has half-wearied me to death. If you had dealt +more frankly with me, I could, however, have saved you much superfluous +trouble and artifice. I now perfectly comprehend the cause of poor +R***'s strange silence some months ago; he was then under the influence +of your charms, and it was your pleasure to deceive me even when there +was no necessity for dissimulation. You knew the secret of my growing +attachment to L——, and must have foreseen that R*** would be +burthensome to me. You needed therefore only to have treated me with +candour, and you would have gained a lover without losing a friend: but +Mad. de P—— is too accomplished a politician to go the simple straight +road to her object. I now perfectly comprehend why she took such pains +to persuade me that an imperial lover was alone worthy of my charms. She +was alarmed by an imaginary danger. Believe me, I am incapable of +disputing with any one <i>les restes d'un coeur</i>.</p> + +<p>Permit me to assure you, madam, that your incomparable talents for +explanation will be utterly thrown away on me in future. I am in +possession of the whole truth, from a person whose information I cannot +doubt: I know the precise date of the commencement of your connexion +with R***, so that you must perceive it will be impracticable to make me +believe that you have not betrayed my easy confidence.</p> + +<p>I cannot, however, without those pangs of sentiment which your heart +will never experience, reflect upon the treachery, the perfidy of one +who has been my bosom friend.—Return my letters, Gabrielle.—With this +you will receive certain <i>souvenirs</i>, at which I could never +henceforward look without sighing. I return you that ring I have so long +worn with delight, the picture of that treacherous eye,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> which you +know so well how to use. Adieu, Gabrielle.—The illusion is over.—How +many of the illusions of my fond heart have been dispelled by time and +treachery!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Monsieur R***.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris, — 18, —.</p> + +<p>I have just received the most extravagant letter imaginable from your +Olivia. Really you may congratulate yourself, my dear friend, upon +having recovered your liberty. 'Twere better to be a galley slave at +once than to be bound to please a woman for life, who knows not what she +would have either in love or friendship. Can you conceive anything so +absurd as her upbraiding me with treachery, because I know the value of +a heart of which she tells me she was more than half tired? as if I were +to blame for her falling in love with Mr L——, and as if I did not know +the whole progress of her inconstancy. Her letters to me give a new +history of the birth and education of Love. Here we see Love born of +Envy, nursed by <i>Ennui</i>, and dandled in turn by all the Vices.</p> + +<p>And this Lady Olivia fancies that she is a perfect Frenchwoman! There is +nothing we Parisians abhor and ridicule so much as these foreign, and +always awkward, caricatures of our manners. With us there are many who, +according to a delicate distinction, lose their virtue without losing +their taste for virtue; but I flatter myself there are few who resemble +Olivia entirely—who have neither the virtues of a man nor of a woman. +One cannot even say that "her head is the dupe of her heart," since she +has no heart. But enough of such a tiresome and incomprehensible +subject.</p> + +<p>How I overvalued that head, when I thought it could ever be fit for +politics! 'Tis well we did not commit ourselves. You see how prudent I +am, my dear R***, and how much those are mistaken who think that we +women are not fit to be trusted with secrets of state. Love and politics +make the best mixture in the world. Adieu. Victoire summons me to my +toilette.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Madame de P—— to Lady Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Paris, — 18, —.</p> + +<p>Really, my dear Olivia, this is too childish. What! make a complaint in +form against me for taking a lover off your hands when you did not know +what to do with him! Do you quarrel in England every time you change +partners in a country dance? But I must be serious; for the +high-sounding words <i>treachery</i> and <i>perfidy</i> are surely sufficient to +make anybody grave. Seriously, then, if you are resolved to be tragical, +<i>et de me faire une scène</i>, I must submit—console myself, and, above +all things, take care not to be ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Your letters, as you desire it so earnestly, and with so much reason, +shall be returned by the first safe conveyance; but excuse me if I +forbear to restore your <i>souvenirs</i>. With us Parisians this returning of +keepsakes has been out of fashion since the days of Molière and <i>Le +dépit amoureux</i>.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my charming Olivia! I embrace you tenderly, I was going to say; +but I believe, according to your English etiquette, I must now conclude +with</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 50%;">I have the honour to be,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Madam,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 55%;">Your most obedient,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 65%;">Humble servant,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Gabrielle de P——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>From Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Tuesday morning.</p> + +<p>Come not to Richmond to-day; I am not in spirits to see you, my dearest +L——. Allow me to indulge my melancholy retired from every human eye.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>From Lady Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Tuesday evening.</p> + +<p>"Explain to you the cause of my melancholy"—Vain request!—cruel as +vain! Your ignorance of the cause too well justifies my sad +presentiments. Were our feelings in unison, as once they were, would not +every chord of your heart vibrate responsively to mine?</p> + +<p>With me love is an absorbing vortex of the soul, into which all other +thoughts, feelings, and ideas are irresistibly impelled; with you it is +but as the stranger stream that crosses the peaceful lake, and as it +flows wakens only the surface of the slumbering waters, communicating to +them but a temporary agitation. With you, my dear, but too +tranquil-minded friend, love is but one amid the vulgar crowd of +pleasures; it concentrates not your ideas, it entrances not your +faculties; it is not, as in my heart, the supreme delight, which renders +all others tasteless, the only blessing which can make life supportable; +the sole, sufficient object of existence. Alas! how cruelly different is +the feeble attachment that I have inspired from that all-powerful +sentiment to which I live a victim! Countless symptoms, by you unheeded, +mark to my love-watchful eye the decline of passion. How often am I +secretly shocked by the cold carelessness of your words and manner! How +often does the sigh burst from my bosom, the tear fall from my eye, when +you have left me at leisure to recall, by memory's torturing power, +instances of your increasing indifference! Seek not to calm my too +well-founded fears. Professions, with all their unmeaning, inanimate +formality, but irritate my anguish. Permit me to indulge, to feed upon +my grief in silence. Ask me no more to explain to you the cause of my +melancholy. Too plainly, alas! I feel it is beyond my utmost power to +endure it. Amiable Werter—divine St Preux—you would sympathize in my +feelings! Sublime Goethe—all-eloquent Rousseau—you alone could feel as +I do, and you alone could paint my anguish.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">The miserable</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<p>Expect no bulletin of happiness from me, my friend. I find it impossible +to make Olivia happy. She has superior talents, accomplishments, beauty, +grace, all that can attract and fascinate the human heart—that could +triumph over every feeling, every principle that opposed her power: she +lives with the man she loves, and yet she is miserable.</p> + +<p>Rousseau, it has been said, never really loved any woman but his own +Julie; I have lately been tempted to think that Olivia never really +loved any man but St Preux. Werter, perhaps, and some other German +heroes, might dispute her heart even with St Preux; but as for me, I +begin to be aware that I am loved only as a feeble resemblance of those +divine originals (to whom, however, my character bears not the slightest +similarity), and I am often indirectly, and sometimes directly, +reproached with my inferiority to imaginary models. But how can a plain +Englishman hope to reach</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The high sublime of deep absurd"?</span> +</div></div> + +<p>I am continually reviled for not using a romantic language, which I have +never learned; and which, as far as I can judge, is foreign to all +natural feeling. I wish to make Olivia happy. There is nothing I would +not do to satisfy her of my sincerity; but nothing I can do will +suffice. She has a sort of morbid sensibility, which is more alive to +pain than pleasure, more susceptible of jealousy than of love. No terms +are sufficiently strong to convince her of my affection, but an +unguarded word makes her miserable for hours. She requires to be +agitated by violent emotions, though they exhaust her mind, and leave +her spiritless and discontented. In this alternation of rapture and +despair all her time passes. As she says of herself, she has no soul but +for love! she seems to think it a crime against sentiment to admit of +relief from common occupations or indifferent subjects; with a sort of +superstitious zeal she excludes all thoughts but those which relate to +one object, and in this spirit of amorous mysticism she actually makes a +penance even of love. I am astonished that her heart can endure this +variety of self-inflicted torments. What will become of Olivia when she +ceases to love and be loved? And what passion can be durable which is so +violent as hers, and to which no respite is allowed? No affection can +sustain these hourly trials of suspicion and reproach.</p> + +<p>Jealousy of Leonora has taken such possession of Olivia's imagination, +that she misinterprets all my words and actions. By restraining my +thoughts, by throwing obstacles in the way of my affection for my wife, +she stimulates and increases it: she forces upon me continually those +comparisons which she dreads. Till I knew Olivia more intimately than +the common forms of a first acquaintance, or the illusions of a +treacherous passion permitted, her defects did not appear; but now that +I suffer, and that I see her suffer daily, I deplore them bitterly. Her +happiness rests and weighs heavily on my honour. I feel myself bound to +consider and to provide for the happiness of the woman who has +sacrificed to me all independent means of felicity. A man without honour +or humanity may perhaps finish an intrigue as easily as he can begin it, +but this is not exactly the case of your imprudent friend,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxx.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Wednesday.</p> + +<p>Ay, ay! just as I thought it would be. This is all the comfort, my dear +friend, that I can give you; all the comfort that wise people usually +afford their friends in distress. Provided things happen just as they +predicted, they care but little what is suffered in the accomplishment +of their prophecies. But seriously, my dear L——, I am not sorry that +you are in a course of vexation. The more you see of your charmer the +better. She will allay your intoxication by gentle degrees, and send you +sober home. Pray keep in the course you have begun, and preserve your +patience as long as possible. I should be sorry that you and Olivia +quarrelled violently, and parted in a passion: such quarrels of lovers +are proverbially the renewal of love.</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Il faut délier l'amitié, il faut couper l'amour."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>In some cases this maxim may be just, but not in the present instance. I +would rather wait till the knot is untied than cut it; for when once you +see the art with which it was woven, a similar knot can never again +perplex you.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxi.</h2> + +<h3><i>From Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Richmond, Saturday.</p> + +<p>You presume too much upon your power over my heart, and upon the +softness of my nature. Know that I have spirit as well as tenderness—a +spirit that will neither be injured nor insulted with impunity. You were +amazed, you say, by the violence which I showed yesterday. Why did you +provoke that violence, by opposing the warmest wish of my heart? and +with a calmness that excited my tenfold indignation! Imagine not that I +am a tame, subjugated female, to be treated with neglect if I +remonstrate, and caressed as the price of obedience. Fancy not that I am +one of your chimney-corner, household goddesses, doomed to the dull +uniformity of domestic worship, destined to be adored, to be hung with +garlands, or undeified or degraded with indignity! I have been +accustomed to a different species of worship; and the fondness of my +weak heart has not yet sunk me so low, and rendered me so abject, that I +cannot assert my rights. You tell me that you are unconscious of giving +me any just cause of offence. Just cause!—How I hate the cold accuracy +of your words! This single expression is sufficient offence to a heart +like mine. You entreat me to be reasonable. Reasonable!—Did ever man +talk of reason to a woman he loved? When once a man has recourse to +reason and precision, there is an end of love. No just cause of +offence!—What, have I no cause to be indignant, when I find you thus +trifle with my feelings, postpone from week to week, and month to month, +our departure from this hateful country—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bid me hope on from day to day,</span> +<span class="i0"> And wish and wish my soul away!"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>Yes, you know it to be the most ardent wish of my soul to leave England; +you know that I cannot enjoy a moment's peace of mind whilst I am here; +yet in this racking suspense it is your pleasure to detain me. No, it +shall not be—this shall not go on! It is in vain you tell me that the +delay originates not with you, that you must wait for instructions and I +know not what—paltry diplomatic excuses!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond.</p> + +<p>Amuse yourself, my good general, at my expence; I know that you are +seriously interested for my happiness; but the way is not quite so clear +before me as you imagine. It is extremely easy to be philosophic for our +friends; but difficult to be so for ourselves when our passions are +concerned. Indeed, this would be a contradiction in terms; you might as +well talk of a cold sun, or of hot ice, as of a philosopher falling in +love, or of a man in love being a philosopher. You say that Olivia will +wear out my passion, and that her defects will undo the work of her +charms. I acknowledge that she sometimes ravels the web she has woven; +but she is miraculously expeditious and skilful in repairing the +mischief: the magical tissue again appears firm as ever, glowing with +brighter colours, and exhibiting finer forms.</p> + +<p>In plain prose, my dear friend—for as you are not in love, you will +find it difficult to follow my poetic flights—in plain prose, I must +confess that Olivia has the power to charm and touch my heart even after +she has provoked me to the utmost verge of human patience. She knows her +power, and I am afraid this tempts her to abuse it. Her temper, which +formerly appeared to me all feminine gentleness, is now irritable and +violent; but I am persuaded that this is not her natural disposition; it +is the effect of her present unhappy state of mind. Tortured by remorse +and jealousy, if in the height of their paroxysms Olivia make me suffer +from their fury, is it for me to complain? I, who caused, should at +least endure the evil.</p> + +<p>Everything is arranged for my embassy, and the day is fixed for our +leaving England. I go down to L——Castle next week.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your faithful</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxiij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Josephine to Victoire, Mad. de P——'s woman.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond.</p> + +<p>I am in despair, dear Victoire; and unless your genius can assist me, +absolutely undone! Here is this romantic lady of mine determined upon a +journey to Russia with her new English lover. What whims ladies take +into their heads, and how impossible it is to make them understand +reason! I have been labouring in vain to convince my Lady Olivia that +this is the most absurd scheme imaginable: and I have repeated to her +all I learnt from Lady F——'s women, who are just returned from +Petersburg, and whom I met at a party last night, all declaring they +would rather die a thousand deaths than go through again what they have +endured. Such seas of ice! such going in sledges! such barbarians! such +beds! and scarcely a looking-glass! And nothing fit to wear but what one +carries with one, and God knows how long we may stay. At Petersburg the +coachmen's ears are frozen off every night on their boxes waiting for +their ladies. And there are bears and wild beasts, I am told, howling +with their mouths wide open night and day in the forests which we are to +pass through; and even in the towns the men, I hear, are little better, +for it is the law of the country for the men to beat their wives, and +many wear long beards. How horrid!—My Lady F——'s woman, who is a +Parisian born, and very pretty, if her eyes were not so small, and +better dressed than her lady always, except diamonds, assures me upon +her honour, she never had a civil thing said to her whilst she was in +Russia, except by one or two Frenchmen in the suite of the ambassadors.</p> + +<p>These Russians think of nothing but drinking brandy, and they put pepper +into it! Mon Dieu, what savages! Put pepper into brandy! But that is +inconceivable! Positively, I will never go to Petersburg. And yet if my +lady goes, what will become of me? for you know my sentiments for +Brunel, and he is decided to accompany my lady, so I cannot stay behind.</p> + +<p>But absolutely I am shocked at this intrigue with Mr L——, and my +conscience reproaches me terribly with being a party concerned in it; +for in this country an affair of gallantry between married people is not +so light a thing as with us. Here wives sometimes love their husbands +seriously, as if they were their lovers; and my Lady Leonora L—— is +one of this sort of wives. She is very unhappy, I am told. One day at +L—— Castle, I assure you my heart quite bled for her, when she gave me +a beautiful gown of English muslin, little suspecting me then to be her +enemy. She is certainly very unsuspicious, and very amiable, and I wish +to Heaven her husband would think as I do, and take her with him to +Petersburg, instead of carrying off my Lady Olivia and me! Adieu, mon +chou! Embrace everybody I know tenderly for me.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Josephine.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxiv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to the Duchess of ——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Madam</span>,</p></div> + +<p>I believe, when I wrote last to your grace, I said, that I had no hopes +of the child's life. From the moment of his birth there was but little +probability of his being anything but a source of misery to his mother. +I cannot, on her account, regret that the struggle is over. He expired +this morning. My poor friend had hopes to the last, though I had none; +and it was most painful and alarming to see the feverish anxiety with +which she watched over her little boy, frequently repeating, "Mr L—— +used to wish so much for a son.—I hope the boy will live to see his +father."</p> + +<p>Last night, partly by persuasion, partly by compulsion, I prevailed with +her to let the child be taken out of her room. This morning, as soon as +it was light, I heard her bell ring; the poor little thing was at that +moment in convulsions; and knowing that Lady Leonora rang to inquire for +it, I went to prepare her mind for what I knew must be the event. The +moment I came into the room she looked eagerly in my face, but did not +ask me any questions about the child. I sat down by the side of her bed; +but without listening to what I said about her own health, she rang her +bell again more violently than before. Susan came in. "Susan!—without +my child!"—said she, starting up. Susan hesitated, but I saw by her +countenance that it was all over—so did Lady Leonora. She said not a +word, but drawing her curtain suddenly, she lay down, and never spoke or +stirred for three hours. The first words she said afterwards were to me:</p> + +<p>"You need not move so softly, my dear Helen; I am not asleep. Have you +my mother's last letter? I think my mother says that she will be here +to-morrow? She is very kind to come to me. Will you be so good as to +write to her immediately, and send a servant with your letter as soon as +you can to meet her on the road, that she may not be <i>surprised</i> when +she arrives?"</p> + +<p>Lady Leonora is now more composed and more like herself than she has +been for some time past. I rejoice that your grace will so soon be here, +because you will be her best possible consolation; and I do not know any +other person in the world who could have sufficient influence to prevent +her from attempting to set out upon a journey before she can travel with +safety. To do her justice, she has not hinted that such were her +intentions; but still I know her mind so well, that I am certain what +her thoughts are, and what her actions would be. Most ladies talk more +than they act, but Leonora acts more decidedly than she talks.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 40%;">Believe me, dear madam,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 50%;">With much respect,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your grace's</p> +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Sincerely affectionate</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<p>I thank you, my excellent friend, for the kindness of your last +letter,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> which came to me at the time I wanted it most. In the whole +course of my life I never felt so much self-reproach as I have done +since I heard of the illness of Leonora and the loss of my son. From +this blow my mind will not easily recover. Of all torments self-reproach +is the worst. And even now I cannot follow the dictates of my own heart +and of my better judgment.</p> + +<p>In Olivia's company I am compelled to repress my feelings; she cannot +sympathize in them; they offend her: she is dissatisfied even with my +silence, and complains of my being out of spirits. Out of spirits!—How +can I be otherwise at present? Has Olivia no touch of pity for a woman +who was once her friend, who always treated her with generous kindness? +But perhaps I am a little unreasonable, and expect too much from female +nature.</p> + +<p>At all events, I wish that Olivia would spare me at this moment her +sentimental metaphysics. She is for ever attempting to prove to me that +I cannot love so well as she can. I admit that I cannot talk of love so +finely. I hope all this will not go on when we arrive at Petersburg.</p> + +<p>The ministry at last know their own minds. I saw —— to-day, and +everything will be quickly arranged; therefore, my dear friend, do not +delay coming to town, to</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your obliged</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>Perhaps you are a <i>little</i> unreasonable! Indeed, my dear friend, I do +not think you a <i>little</i> unreasonable, but very nearly stark mad. What! +quarrel with your mistress because she is not sorry that your wife is +ill, and because she cannot sympathize in your grief for the loss of +your son! Where, except perhaps in absurd novels, did you ever meet with +these paragons of mistresses, who were so magnanimous and so generous as +to sacrifice their own reputations, and then be satisfied to share the +only possible good remaining to them in life, the heart of their lover, +with a rival more estimable, more amiable than themselves, and who has +the advantage of being a wife? This sharing of hearts, this union of +souls with this opposition of interests—this metaphysical gallantry is +absolute nonsense, and all who try it in real life will find it so to +their cost. Why should you, my dear L——, expect such superlative +excellence from your Olivia? Do you think that a woman by losing one +virtue increases the strength of those that remain, as it is said that +the loss of one of our senses renders all the others more acute? Do you +think that a lady, by yielding to love, and by proving that she has not +sufficient resolution or forbearance to preserve the honour of her sex, +gives the best possible demonstration of her having sufficient strength +of character to rise superior to all the other weaknesses incident to +human, and more especially to female nature—envy and jealousy for +instance?</p> + +<p>No, no, my good friend, you have common sense, though you lately have +been sparing of it in action. You had a wife, and a good wife, and you +had some chance of being happy; but with a wife and a mistress, granting +them to be both the best of their kind, the probabilities are rather +against you. I speak only as a man of the world: morality, you know, is +now merely an affair of calculation. According to the most approved +tables of happiness, you have made a bad bargain. But be just, at any +rate, and do not blame your Olivia for the inconveniences and evils +inseparable from the species of connexion that you have been pleased to +form. Do you expect the whole course of society and the nature of the +human heart to change for your special accommodation? Do you believe in +truth by wholesale, and yet in detail expect a happy exception in your +own favour?—Seriously, my dear friend, you must either break off this +connexion or bear it. I shall see you in a few days.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mrs C—— to Miss B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<p>Leonora has recovered her strength surprisingly. She was so determined +to be well, that her body dared not contradict her mind. Her excellent +mother has been of the greatest possible service to us, for she has had +sufficient influence to prevent her daughter from exerting herself too +much. Her grace had a letter from Mr L—— to-day—very short—but very +kind—at least all that I heard read of it. He has set my heart somewhat +more at ease by the comfortable assurance, that he will not leave +England without seeing Lady Leonora. I have the greatest hopes from this +interview! I have not felt so happy for many months—but I will not be +too sanguine. Mr L—— talks of being here the latter end of this month. +The duchess, with her usual prudence, intends to leave her daughter +before that time, lest Mr L—— should be constrained by her presence, +or should imagine that Leonora acts from any impulse but that of her own +heart. I also, though much against my inclinations, shall decamp; for he +might perhaps consider me as an adviser, caballer, confidante, or at +least a troublesome spectator. All reconciliation scenes should be +without spectators. Men do not like to be seen on their knees: they are +at a loss, like Sir Walter Raleigh in "The Critic;" they cannot get off +gracefully.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">I am, dear Margaret,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Helen C——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Friday.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear L——</span>,</p></div> + +<p>Ask yourself, in the name of common sense, why you should go to +Petersburg with this sentimental coquette, this romantic termagant, of +whom I see you are already more than half tired. As to your being bound +to her in honour, I cannot see how. Why should you make honour, justice, +humanity, and gratitude, plead so finely all on one side, and that the +wrong side of the question? Have none of these one word to whisper in +favour of anybody in this world but of a worthless mistress, who makes +you miserable? I think you have learned from your heroine to be so +expert in sentimental logic, that you can change virtues into vices, and +vices into virtues, till at last you do not know them asunder. Else why +should you make it a point of conscience to abandon your wife—just at +the moment, too, when you are thoroughly convinced of her love for you, +when you are touched to the soul by her generous conduct, and when your +heart longs to return to her?</p> + +<p>Please to remember that this Lady Olivia's reputation was not +unimpeached before her acquaintance with you, and do not take more glory +or more blame to yourself than properly falls to your share. Do not +forget that <i>poor</i> R*** was your predecessor, and do not let this +delicate lady rest all the weight of her shame upon you, as certain +Chinese culprits rest their portable pillories on the shoulders of +their friends.</p> + +<p>In two days I shall follow this letter, and repeat in person all the +interrogatories I have just put to you, my dear friend. Prepare yourself +to answer me sincerely such questions as I shall ask.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours truly,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter lxxxix.</h2> + +<h3><i>From Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Monday, 12 o'clock.</p> + +<p>For a few days did you say? To <i>bid adieu</i>? Oh! if once more you return +to that fatal castle, that enchanted home, Olivia for ever loses all +power over your heart. Bid her die, stab her to the heart, and she will +call it mercy, and she will bless you with her dying lips; but talk not +of leaving your Olivia! On her knees she writes this, her face all +bathed in tears. And must she in her turn implore and supplicate? Must +she abase herself even to the dust? Yes—love like hers vanquishes even +the stubborn potency of female pride.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your too fond</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xc.</h2> + +<h3><i>From Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[Dated a few hours after the preceding.]</p></div> + + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Monday, half-past three.</p> + +<p>Oh! this equivocating answer to my fond heart! Passion makes and admits +of no compromise. Be mine, and wholly mine—or never, never will I +survive your desertion! I can be happy only whilst I love; I can love +only whilst I am beloved with fervency equal to my own; and when I cease +to love, I cease to exist! No coward fears restrain my soul. The word +suicide shocks not my ear, appals not my understanding. Death I consider +but as the eternal rest of the wretched—the sweet, the sole refuge of +despair.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your resolute</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xci.</h2> + + +<h3><i>From Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Tuesday.</p> + +<p>Return! return! on the wings of love return to the calm, the prudent, +the happy, the transcendently happy Leonora! Return—but not to bid her +adieu—return to be hers for ever, and only hers. I give you back your +faith—I <i>give</i> you back your promises—you have <i>taken</i> back your +heart.</p> + +<p>But if you should desire once more to see Olivia, if you should have any +lingering wish to bid her a last adieu, it must be this evening. +To-morrow's sun rises not for Olivia. For her but a few short hours +remain. Love, let them be all thy own! Intoxicate thy victim, mingle +pleasure in the cup of death, and bid her fearless quaff it to the +dregs!——</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xcij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to General B——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Thursday.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,</p></div> + +<p>You have by argument and raillery, and by every means that kindness and +goodness could devise, endeavoured to expel from my mind a passion which +you justly foresaw would be destructive of my happiness, and of the +peace of a most estimable and amiable woman. With all the skill that a +thorough knowledge of human nature in general, and of my peculiar +character and foibles, could bestow, you have employed those</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">----"Words and spells which can control,</span> +<span class="i0">Between the fits, the fever of the soul."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>Circumstances have operated in conjunction with your skill to "medicine +me to repose." The fits have gradually become weaker and weaker, the +fever is now gone, but I am still to suffer for the extravagancies +committed during its delirium. I have entered into engagements which +must be fulfilled; I have involved myself in difficulties from which I +see no method of extricating myself honourably. Notwithstanding all the +latitude which the system of modern gallantry allows to the conscience +of our sex, and in spite of the convenient maxim, which maintains that +all arts are allowable in love and war, I think that a man cannot break +a promise, whether made in words or by tacit implication, on the faith +of which a woman sacrifices her reputation and happiness. Lady Olivia +has thrown herself upon my protection. I am as sensible as you can be, +my dear general, that scandal had attacked her reputation before our +acquaintance commenced; but though the world had suspicions, they had no +proofs: now there can be no longer any defence made for her character, +there is no possibility of her returning to that rank in society to +which she was entitled by her birth, and which she adorned with all the +brilliant charms of wit and beauty; no happiness, no chance of happiness +remains for her but from my constancy. Of naturally violent passions, +unused to the control of authority, habit, reason, or religion, and at +this time impelled by love and jealousy, Olivia is on the brink of +despair. I am not apt to believe that women die in modern times for +love, nor am I easily disposed to think that I could inspire a dangerous +degree of enthusiasm; yet I am persuaded that Olivia's passion, +compounded as it is of various sentiments beside love, has taken such +possession of her imagination, and is, as she fancies, so necessary to +her existence, that if I were to abandon her, she would destroy that +life, which she has already attempted, I thank God! ineffectually. What +a spectacle is a woman in a paroxysm of rage!—a woman we love, or whom +we have loved!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Excuse me, my dear friend, if I wrote incoherently, for I have been +interrupted many times since I began this letter. I am this day +overwhelmed by a multiplicity of affairs, which, in consequence of +Olivia's urgency to leave England immediately, must be settled with an +expedition for which my head is not at present well qualified. I do not +feel well: I can command my attention but on one subject, and on that +all my thoughts are to no purpose. Whichever way I now act, I must +endure and inflict misery. I must either part from a wife who has given +me the most tender, the most touching proofs of affection—a wife who is +all that a man can esteem, admire, and love; or I must abandon a +mistress, who loves me with all the desperation of passion to which she +would fall a sacrifice. But why do I talk as if I were still at liberty +to make a choice?—My head is certainly very confused. I forgot that I +am bound by a solemn promise, and this is the evil which distracts me. I +will give you, if I can, a clear narrative.</p> + +<p>Last night I had a terrible scene with Olivia. I foresaw that she would +be alarmed by my intended visit to L—— Castle, even though it was but +to take leave of my Leonora. I abstained from seeing Olivia to avoid +altercation, and with all the delicacy in my power I wrote to her, +assuring her that my resolution was fixed. Note after note came from +her, with pathetic and passionate appeals to my heart; but I was still +resolute. At length, the day before that on which I was to set out for +L—— Castle, she wrote to warn me, that if I wished to take a last +farewell, I must see her that evening: her note concluded with, +"To-morrow's sun will not rise for Olivia." This threat, and many +strange hints of her opinions concerning suicide, I at the time +disregarded, as only thrown out to intimidate a lover. However, knowing +the violence of Olivia's temper, I was punctual to the appointed hour, +fully determined by my firmness to convince her that these female wiles +were vain.</p> + +<p>My dear friend, I would not advise the wisest man and the most +courageous upon earth to brave such dangers, confident in his strength. +Even a victory may cost him too dear.</p> + +<p>I found Olivia reclining on a sofa, her beautiful tresses unbound, her +dress the perfection of elegant negligence. I half suspected that it was +studied negligence; yet I could not help pausing, as I entered, to +contemplate a figure. She never looked more beautiful—more fascinating. +Holding out her hand to me, she said, with her languid smile and tender +expression of voice and manner, "You <i>are</i> come then to bid me farewell. +I doubted whether . . . But I will not upbraid—mine be all the pain of +this last adieu. During the few minutes we have to pass together,</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Between us two let there be peace.'"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>I sat down beside her, rather agitated, I confess, but commanding myself +so that my emotion could not be visible. In a composed tone I asked, why +she spoke of a last adieu? and observed that we should meet again in a +few days.</p> + +<p>"Never!" replied Olivia. "Weak woman as I am, love inspires me with +sufficient force to make and to keep this resolution."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she took from her bosom a rose, and presenting it to me in +a solemn manner, "Put this rose into water to-night," continued she; +"to-morrow it will be alive!"</p> + +<p>Her look, her expressive eyes, seemed to say, This flower will be alive, +but Olivia will be dead. I am ashamed to confess that I was silent, +because I could not just then speak.</p> + +<p>"I have used some precaution," resumed Olivia, "to spare you, my dearest +L——, unnecessary pain.—Look around you."</p> + +<p>The room, I now for the first time observed, was ornamented with +flowers.</p> + +<p>"This apartment, I hope," continued she, "has not the air of the chamber +of death. I have endeavoured to give it a festive appearance, that the +remembrance of your last interview with your once loved Olivia may be at +least unmixed with horror."</p> + +<p>At this instant, my dear general, a confused recollection of Rousseau's +Heloise, the dying scene, and her room ornamented with flowers, came +into my imagination, and destroying the idea of reality, changed +suddenly the whole course of my feelings.</p> + +<p>In a tone of raillery I represented to Olivia her resemblance to Julie, +and observed that it was a pity she had not a lover whose temper was +more similar than mine to that of the divine St Preux. Stung to the +heart by my ill-timed raillery, Olivia started up from the sofa, broke +from my arms with sudden force, snatched from the table a penknife, and +plunged it into her side.</p> + +<p>She was about to repeat the blow, but I caught her arm—she +struggled—"Promise me, then," cried she, "that you will never more see +my hated rival."</p> + +<p>"I cannot make such a promise, Olivia," said I, holding her uplifted arm +forcibly. "I will not."</p> + +<p>The words "hated rival," which showed me that Olivia was actuated more +by the spirit of hatred than love, made me reply in as decided a tone as +even you could have spoken, my dear general. But I was shocked, and +reproached myself with cruelty, when I saw the blood flow from her side; +she was terrified. I took the knife from her powerless hand, and she +fainted in my arms. I had sufficient presence of mind to reflect that +what had happened should be kept as secret as possible; therefore, +without summoning Josephine, whose attachment to her mistress I have +reason to suspect, I threw open the windows, gave Olivia air and water, +and her senses returned: then I despatched my Swiss for a surgeon. I +need not speak of my own feelings—no suspense could be more dreadful +than that which I endured between the sending for the surgeon and the +moment when he gave his opinion. He relieved me at once, by pronouncing +it to be a slight flesh wound, that would be of no manner of +consequence. Olivia, however, whether from alarm or pain, or from the +sight of the blood, fainted three times during the dressing of her side; +and though the surgeon assured her that it would be perfectly well in a +few days, she was evidently apprehensive that we concealed from her the +real danger. At the idea of the approach of death, which now took +possession of her imagination, all courage forsook her, and for some +time my efforts to support her spirits were ineffectual. She could not +dispense with the services of Josephine; and from the moment this French +woman entered the room, there was nothing to be heard but exclamations +the most violent and noisy. As to assistance, she could give none. At +last her exaggerated demonstrations of horror and grief ended +with—"Dieu merci! au moins nous voilà delivrés de ce voyage affreux. +Apparemment qu'il ne sera plus question de ce vilain Petersburg pour +madame."</p> + +<p>A new train of thoughts was roused by these words in Olivia's mind; and +looking at me, she eagerly inquired why the journey to Petersburg was to +be given up, if she was in no danger? I assured her that Josephine spoke +at random, that my intentions with regard to the embassy to Russia were +unaltered.</p> + +<p>"Seulement retardé un peu," said Josephine, who was intent only upon her +own selfish object.—"Sûrement, madame ne voyagera pas dans cet etat!"</p> + +<p>Olivia started up, and looking at me with terrific wildness in her eyes, +"Swear to me," said she, "swear that you will not deceive me, or I will +this instant tear open this wound, and never more suffer it to be +closed."</p> + +<p>"Deceive you, Olivia!" cried I, "what deceit can you fear from me?—What +is it you require of me?"</p> + +<p>"I require from you a promise, a solemn promise, that you will go with +<i>me</i> to Russia!"</p> + +<p>"I solemnly promise that I will," said I: "now be tranquil, Olivia, I +beseech you."</p> + +<p>The surgeon represented the necessity of keeping herself quiet, and +declared that he would not answer for the cure of his patient on any +other terms. Satisfied by the solemnity of my promise, Olivia now +suffered me to depart. This morning she sends me word that in a few days +she shall be ready to leave England. Can you meet me, my dear friend, at +L—— Castle? I go down there to-day, to bid adieu to Leonora. From +thence I shall proceed to Yarmouth, and embark immediately. Olivia will +follow me.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your obliged</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xciij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dearest Mother</span>,</p></div> + +<p>My husband is here! at home with me, with your happy Leonora—and his +heart is with her. His looks, his voice, his manner tell me so, and by +them I never was deceived. No, he is incapable of deceit. Whatever have +been his errors, he never stooped to dissimulation. He is again my own, +still capable of loving me, still worthy of all my affection. I knew +that the delusion could not last long, or rather you told me so, my best +friend, and I believed you; you did him justice. He was indeed +deceived—who might not have been deceived by Olivia? His passions were +under the power of an enchantress; but now he has triumphed over her +arts. He sees her such as she is, and her influence ceases.</p> + +<p>I am not absolutely certain of all this; but I believe, because I hope +it! yet he is evidently embarrassed, and seems unhappy: what can be the +meaning of this? Perhaps he does not yet know his Leonora sufficiently +to be secure of her forgiveness. How I long to set his heart at ease, +and to say to him, let the past be forgotten for ever! How easy it is +to the happy to forgive! There have been moments when I could not, I +fear, have been just, when I am sure that I could not have been +generous. I shall immediately offer to accompany Mr L——to Russia; I +can have no farther hesitation, for I see that he wishes it; indeed, +just now he almost said so. His baggage is already embarked at +Yarmouth—he sails in a few days—and in a few hours your daughter's +fate, your daughter's happiness, will be decided. It is decided, for I +am sure he loves me; I see, I hear, I feel it. Dearest mother, I write +to you in the first moment of joy.—I hear his foot upon the stairs.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your happy</p> +<p style="margin-left: 75%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xciv.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Mother</span>,</p></div> + +<p>My hopes are all vain. Your prophecies will never be accomplished. We +have both been mistaken in Mr L——'s character, and henceforward your +daughter must not depend upon him for any portion of her happiness. I +once thought it impossible that my love for him could be diminished: he +has changed my opinion. Mine is not that species of weak or abject +affection which can exist under the sense of ill treatment and +injustice, much less can my love survive esteem for its object.</p> + +<p>I told you, my dear mother, and I believed, that his affections had +returned to me; but I was mistaken. He has not sufficient strength or +generosity of soul to love me, or to do justice to my love. I offered +to go with him to Russia: he answered, "That is +impossible."—Impossible!—Is it then impossible for him to do that +which is just or honourable? or seeing what is right, must he follow +what is wrong? or can his heart never more be touched by virtuous +affections? Is his taste so changed, so depraved, that he can now be +pleased and charmed only by what is despicable and profligate in our +sex? Then I should rejoice that we are to be separated—separated for +ever. May years and years pass away and wear out, if possible, the +memory of all he has been to me! I think I could better, much better +bear the total loss, the death of him I have loved, than endure to feel +that he had survived both my affection and esteem; to see the person the +same, but the soul changed; to feel every day, every hour, that I must +despise what I have so admired and loved.</p> + +<p>Mr L—— is gone from hence. He leaves England the day after to-morrow. +Lady Olivia is to <i>follow</i> him. I am glad that public decency is not to +be outraged by their embarking together. My dearest mother, be assured +that at this moment your daughter's feelings are worthy of you. +Indignation and the pride of virtue support her spirit.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xcv.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to Lady Leonora L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<p>Had I not the highest confidence in Lady Leonora L——'s fortitude, I +should not venture to write to her at this moment, knowing as I do that +she is but just recovered from a dangerous illness.</p> + +<p>Mr L—— had requested me to meet him at L——Castle previous to his +leaving England, but it was out of my power. I met him however on the +road to Yarmouth, and as we travelled together I had full opportunity of +seeing the state of his mind. Permit me—the urgency of the case +requires it—to speak without reserve, with the freedom of an old +friend. I imagine that your ladyship parted from Mr L——with feelings +of indignation, at which I cannot be surprised: but if you had seen him +as I saw him, indignation would have given way to pity. Loving you, +madam, as you deserve to be loved, most ardently, most tenderly; touched +to his inmost soul by the proofs of affection he had seen in your +letters, in your whole conduct, even to the last moment of parting; my +unhappy friend felt himself bound to resist the temptation of staying +with you, or of accepting your generous offer to accompany him to +Petersburg. He thought himself bound in honour by a promise extorted +from him to save from suicide one whom he thinks he has injured, one who +has thrown herself upon his protection. Of the conflict in his mind at +parting with your ladyship I can judge from what he suffered afterwards. +I met Mr L—— with feelings of extreme indignation, but before I had +been an hour in his company, I never pitied any man so much in my life, +for I never yet saw any one so truly wretched, and so thoroughly +convinced that he deserved to be so. You know that he is not one who +often gives way to his emotions, not one who expresses them much in +words—but he could not command his feelings.</p> + +<p>The struggle was too violent. I have no doubt that it was the real cause +of his present illness. As the moment approached when he was to leave +England, he became more and more agitated. Towards evening he sunk into +a sort of apathy and gloomy silence, from which he suddenly broke into +delirious raving. At twelve o'clock last night, the night he was to +have sailed, he was seized with a violent and infectious fever. As to +the degree of immediate danger, the physicians here cannot yet +pronounce. I have sent to town for Dr *****. Your ladyship may be +certain that I shall not quit my friend, and that he shall have every +possible assistance and attendance.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 55%;">I am, with the truest esteem,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your ladyship's faithful servant,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xcvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">L—— Castle.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Mother</span>,</p></div> + +<p>This moment an express from General B——. Mr L—— is dangerously ill +at Yarmouth—a fever brought on by the agitation of his mind. How unjust +I have been! Forget all I said in my last. I write in the utmost +haste—just setting out for Yarmouth. I hope to be there to-morrow.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Your affectionate</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——</span>.</p> + +<p>I open this to enclose the general's letter, which will explain +everything.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xcvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to the Duchess of ——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Madam</span>,</p></div> + +<p>Your grace, I find, is apprised of Lady Leonora L——'s journey hither: +I fear that you rely upon my prudence for preventing her exposing +herself to the danger of catching this dreadful fever. But that has been +beyond my power. Her ladyship arrived late last night. I had foreseen +the probability of her coming, but not the possibility of her coming so +soon. I had taken no precautions, and she was in the house and upon the +stairs in an instant. No entreaties, no arguments could stop her; I +assured her that Mr L——'s fever was pronounced by all the physicians +to be of the most infectious kind. Dr ***** joined me in representing +that she would expose her life to almost certain danger if she persisted +in her determination to see her husband; but she pressed forward, +regardless of all that could be said. To the physicians she made no +answer; to me she replied, "You are Mr L——'s friend, but I am his +wife: you have not feared to hazard your life for him, and do you think +I can hesitate?" I urged that there was no necessity for more than one +person's running this hazard; and that since it had fallen to my lot to +be with my friend when he was first taken ill——She interrupted me—"Is +not this taking a cruel advantage of me, general? You know that I, too, +would have been with Mr L—— if—if it had been possible." Her manner, +her pathetic emphasis, and the force of her implied meaning, struck me +so much, that I was silent, and suffered her to pass on; but again the +idea of her danger rushing upon my mind, I sprang before her to the door +of Mr L——'s apartment, and opposed her entrance. "Then, general," said +she calmly, "perhaps you mistake me—perhaps you have heard repeated +some unguarded words of mine in the moment of indignation . . . unjust . +. . you best know how unjust indignation!—and you infer from these that +my affection for my husband is extinguished. I deserve this—but do not +punish me too severely."</p> + +<p>I still kept my hand upon the lock of the door, expostulating with Lady +Leonora in your grace's name, and in Mr L——'s assuring her that if he +were conscious of what was passing, and able to speak, he would order me +to prevent her seeing him in his present situation.</p> + +<p>"And you, too, general!" said she, bursting into tears: "I thought you +were my friend—would you prevent me from seeing him? And is not he +conscious of what is passing? And is not he able to speak? Sir, I must +be admitted! You have done your duty—now let me do mine. Consider, my +right is superior to yours. No power on earth should or can prevent a +wife from seeing her husband when he is . . . Dear, dear general!" said +she, clasping her raised hands, and falling suddenly at my feet, "let me +see him but for one minute, and I will be grateful to you for ever!"</p> + +<p>I could resist no longer—I tremble for the consequences. I know your +grace sufficiently to be aware that you ought to be told the whole +truth. I have but little hopes of my poor friend's life.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 50%;">With much respect,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your grace's faithful servant,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xcviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond.</p> + +<p>A mist hung over my eyes, and "my ears with hollow murmurs rung," when +the dreadful tidings of your alarming illness were announced by your +cruel messenger. My dearest L——! why does inexorable destiny doom me +to be absent from you at such a crisis? Oh! this fatal wound of mine! It +would, I fear, certainly open again if I were to travel. So this +corporeal being must be imprisoned here, while my anxious soul, my +viewless spirit, hovers near you, longing to minister each tender +consolation, each nameless comfort that love alone can, with fond +prescience and magic speed, summon round the couch of pain.</p> + +<p>"O that I had the wings of a dove, that I might fly to you!" Why must I +resign the sweetly-painful task of soothing you in the hour of sickness? +And shall others, with officious zeal,</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Guess the faint wish, explain the asking eye"?</span> +</div></div> + +<p>Alas! it must be so—even were I to fly to him, my sensibility could not +support the scene. To behold him stretched on the bed of +disease—perhaps of death—would be agony past endurance. Let firmer +nerves than Olivia's, and hearts more callous, assume the offices from +which they shrink not. 'Tis the fate, the hard fate of all endued with +exquisite sensibility, to be palsied by the excess of their feelings, +and to become imbecile at the moment their exertions are most necessary.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your too tenderly sympathizing</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter xcix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<p>My husband is alive, and that is all. Never did I see, nor could I have +conceived, such a change, and in so short a time! When I opened the +door, his eyes turned upon me with unmeaning eagerness: he did not know +me. The good general thought my voice might have some effect. I spoke, +but could obtain no answer, no sign of intelligence. In vain I called +upon him by every name that used to reach his heart. I kneeled beside +him, and took one of his burning hands in mine. I kissed it, and +suddenly he started up, exclaiming, "Olivia! Olivia!" with dreadful +vehemence. In his delirium he raved about Olivia's stabbing herself, and +called upon us to hold her arm, looking wildly towards the foot of the +bed, as if the figure were actually before him. Then he sunk back, as if +quite exhausted, and gave a deep sigh. Some of my tears fell upon his +hand; he felt them before I perceived that they had fallen, and looked +so earnestly in my face, that I was in hopes his recollection was +returning; but he only said, "Olivia, I believe that you love me;" then +sighed more deeply than before, drew his hand away from me, and, as well +as I could distinguish, said something about Leonora.</p> + +<p>But why should I give you the pain of hearing all these circumstances, +my dear mother? It is enough to say, that he passed a dreadful night. +This morning the physicians say, that if he passes this night—if——my +dear mother, what a terrible suspense!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter c.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<p>Morning is at last come, and my husband is still alive: so there is yet +hope. When I said I thought I could bear to survive him, how little I +knew of myself, and how little, how very little I expected to be so soon +tried! All evils are remediable but one, that one which I dare not name.</p> + +<p>The physicians assure me that he is better. His friend, to whose +judgment I trust more, thinks as they do. I know not what to believe. I +dread to flatter myself and to be disappointed. I will write again, +dearest mother, to-morrow.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your ever affectionate</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter ci.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Wednesday.</p> + +<p>No material change since yesterday, my dear mother. This morning, as I +was searching for some medicine, I saw on the chimney-piece a note from +Lady Olivia ——. It might have been there yesterday, and ever since my +arrival, but I did not see it. At any other time it would have excited +my indignation, but my mind is now too much weakened by sorrow. My fears +for my husband's life absorb all other feelings.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond.</p> + +<p>Words cannot express what I have suffered since I wrote last! Oh! why do +I not hear that the danger is over!—Long since would I have been with +you, all that my soul holds dear, could I have escaped from these +tyrants, these medical despots, who detain me by absolute force, and +watch over me with unrelenting vigilance. I have consulted Dr ***, who +assures me that my fears of my wound opening, were I to take so long a +journey, are too well-founded; that in the present feverish state of my +mind he would not answer for the consequences. I heed him not—life I +value not.—Most joyfully would I sacrifice myself for the man I love. +But even could I escape from my persecutors, too well I know that to see +you would be a vain attempt—too well I know that I should not be +admitted. Your love, your fears for Olivia would barbarously banish her +and forbid her your dear, your dangerous atmosphere. Too justly would +you urge that my rashness might prove our mutual ruin—that in the +moment of crisis or of convalescence, anxiety for me might defeat the +kind purpose of nature. And even were I secure of your recovery, the +delay, I speak not of the danger of my catching the disease, would, +circumstanced as we are, be death to our hopes. We should be compelled +to part. The winds would waft you from me. The waves would bear you to +another region, far—oh, far from your</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter ciij.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to the Duchess of ——</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yarmouth, Thursday, —.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Madam</span>,</p></div> + +<p>Mr L—— has had a relapse, and is now more alarmingly ill than I have +yet seen him: he does not know his situation, for his delirium has +returned. The physicians give him over. Dr H—— says that we must +prepare for the worst.</p> + +<p>I have but one word of comfort for your grace—that your admirable +daughter's health has not yet suffered.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your grace's faithful servant,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter civ.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dearest Mother</span>,</p></div> + +<p>The delirium has subsided. A few minutes ago, as I was kneeling beside +him, offering up an almost hopeless prayer for his recovery, his eyes +opened, and I perceived that he knew me. He closed his eyes again +without speaking, opened them once more, and then looking at me fixedly, +exclaimed: "It is not a dream! You are Leonora!—<i>my</i> Leonora!"</p> + +<p>What exquisite pleasure I felt at the sound of these words, at the tone +in which they were pronounced! My husband folded me in his arms; and, +till I felt his burning lips, I forgot that he was ill.</p> + +<p>When he came thoroughly to his recollection, and when the idea that his +fever might be infectious occurred to him, he endeavoured to prevail +upon me to leave the room. But what danger can there be for me <i>now</i>? My +whole soul, my whole frame is inspired with new life. If he recover, +your daughter may still be happy.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cv.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to the Duchess of ——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Madam</span>,</p></div> + +<p>A few hours ago my friend became perfectly sensible of his danger, and +calling me to his bedside, told me that he was eager to make use of the +little time which he might have to live. He was quite calm and +collected. He employed me to write his last wishes and bequests; and I +must do him the justice to declare, that the strongest idea and feeling +in his mind evidently was the desire to show his entire confidence in +his wife, and to give her, in his last moments, proofs of his esteem and +affection. When he had settled his affairs, he begged to be left alone +for some time. Between twelve and one his bell rang, and he desired to +see Lady Leonora and me. He spoke to me with that warmth of friendship +which he has ever felt from our childhood. Then turning to his wife, his +voice utterly failed, and he could only press to his lips that hand +which was held out to him in speechless agony.</p> + +<p>"Excellent woman!" he articulated at last; then collecting his mind, he +exclaimed, "My beloved Leonora, I will not die without expressing my +feelings for you; I know yours for me. I do not ask for that forgiveness +which your generous heart granted long before I deserved it. Your +affection for me has been shown by actions, at the hazard of your life; +I can only thank you with weak words. You possess my whole heart, my +esteem, my admiration, my gratitude."</p> + +<p>Lady Leonora, at the word <i>gratitude</i>, made an effort to speak, and laid +her hand upon her husband's lips. He added, in a more enthusiastic tone, +"You have my undivided love. Believe in the truth of these +words—perhaps they are the last I may ever speak."</p> + +<p>My friend sunk back exhausted, and I carried Lady Leonora out of the +room.</p> + +<p>I returned half an hour ago, and found everything silent: Mr L—— is +lying with his eyes closed—quite still—I hope asleep. This may be a +favourable crisis. I cannot delay this letter longer.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your grace's faithful servant,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cvi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dearest Mother</span>,</p></div> + +<p>He has slept several hours.—Dr H——, the most skilful of all his +physicians, says that we may now expect his recovery. Adieu. The good +general will add a line to assure you that I am not deceived, nor too +sanguine.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Yours most affectionately,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——</span>.</p> + +<h3><i>Postscript by General B——.</i></h3> + +<p>I have some hopes—that is all I can venture to say to your grace.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cvij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dearest Mother</span>,</p></div> + +<p>Excellent news for you to-day!—Mr L—— is pronounced out of danger. He +seems excessively touched by my coming here, and so grateful for the +little kindness I have been able to show him during his illness! But, +alas! that fatal promise! the recollection of it comes across my mind +like a spectre. Mr L—— has never touched upon this subject—I do all +in my power to divert his thoughts to indifferent objects.</p> + +<p>This morning, when I went into his room, I found him tearing to pieces +that note which I mentioned to you a few days ago. He seemed much +agitated, and desired to see General B——. They are now together, and +were talking so loud in the next room to me, that I was obliged to +retire, lest I should overhear secrets. Mr L—— this moment sends for +me. If I should not have time to add more, this short letter will +satisfy you for to-day.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——.</span></p> + +<p>I open my letter to say, that I am not so happy as I was when I began +it. I have heard all the circumstances relative to this terrible affair. +Mr L—— will go to Russia. I am as far from happiness as ever.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cviij.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond.</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Say, is not absence death to those that love?"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>How just, how beautiful a sentiment! yet cold and callous is that heart +which knows not that there is a pang more dreadful than absence—far as +the death of lingering torture exceeds, in corporeal sufferance, the +soft slumber of expiring nature. Suspense! suspense! compared with thy +racking agony, even absence is but the blessed euthanasia of love.</p> + +<p>My dearest L——, why this torturing silence? one line, one word, I +beseech you, from <i>your own hand</i>; say but <i>I live and love you, my +Olivia</i>. Hour after hour, and day after day, have I waited and waited, +and hoped, and feared to hear from you. O, this intolerable agonizing +suspense! Yet hope clings to my fond heart—hope! sweet treacherous +hope!</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Non so si la Speranza</span> +<span class="i0"> Va con l'inganno unita;</span> +<span class="i0"> So che mantiene in vita</span> +<span class="i0"> Qualche infelici almen."</span> +</div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cix.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr L—— to Olivia.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Olivia</span>,</p></div> + +<p>This is the first line I have written since my illness. I could not +sooner relieve you from suspense, for during most of this time I have +been delirious, and never till now able to write. My physicians have +this morning pronounced me out of danger; and as soon as my strength is +sufficient to bear the voyage, I shall sail, according to my promise.</p> + +<p>Your prudence, or that of your physician, has saved me much +anxiety—perhaps saved my life: for had you been so rash as to come +hither, beside my fears for your safety, I should have been exposed, in +the moment of my returning reason, to a conflict of passions which I +could not have borne.</p> + +<p>Leonora is with me; she arrived the night after I was taken ill, and +forced her way to me, when my fever was at the highest, and while I was +in a state of delirium.</p> + +<p>Lady Leonora will stay with me till the moment I sail, which I expect to +do in about ten days. I cannot say positively, for I am still very weak, +and may not be able to keep my word to a day. Adieu. I hope your mind +will now be at ease. I am glad to hear from the surgeon that your wound +is quite closed. I will write again, and more fully, when I am better +able. Believe me, Olivia, I am most anxious to secure your happiness: +allow me to believe that this will be in the power of</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours sincerely,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">F. L——.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cx.</h2> + +<h3><i>Olivia to Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Richmond.</p> + +<p>Barbarous man! with what cold cruelty you plunge a dagger into my heart! +Leonora is with you!—Leonora! Then I am undone. Yes, she will—she has +resumed all her power, her rights, her habitual empire over your heart. +Wretched Olivia!—But you say it is your wish to secure my happiness, +you bid me allow you to believe it is in your power. What phrases!—You +will sail, <i>according to your promise</i>.—Then nothing but your honour +binds you to Olivia. And even now, at this guilty instant, in your +secret soul, you wish, you expect from my offended pride, from my +disgusted delicacy, a renunciation of this promise, a release from all +the ties that bind you to me. You are right: this is what I ought to do; +what I would do, if love had not so weakened my soul, so prostrated my +spirit, rendered me so abject a creature, that <i>I cannot</i> what <i>I +would</i>.</p> + +<p>I must love on—female pride and resentment call upon me in vain. I +cannot hate you. Even by the feeble tie, which I see you long to break, +I must hold, rather than let you go for ever. I will not renounce your +promise. I claim it. I adjure you, by all which a man of honour holds +most sacred, to quit England the moment your health will allow you to +sail. No equivocating with your conscience!—I hold you to your word. +Oh, my dearest L——! to feel myself reduced to use such language to +you, to find myself clinging to that last resource of shipwrecked love, +<i>a promise</i>! It is with unspeakable agony I feel all this; lower I +cannot sink in misery. Raise me, if indeed you wish my happiness—raise +me! it is yet in your power. Tell me, that my too susceptible heart has +mistaken phantoms for realities—tell me, that your last was not colder +than usual; yes, I am ready to be deceived. Tell me that it was only the +languor of disease; assure me that my rival forced her way only to your +presence, that she has not won her easy way back to your heart—assure +me that you are impatient once more to see your own</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Olivia</span>.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cxi.</h2> + +<h3><i>Leonora to her mother.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dearest Mother</span>,</p></div> + +<p>Can you believe or imagine that I am actually unwilling to say or to +think that Mr L—— is quite well? yet this is the fact. Such is the +inconsistency and weakness of our natures—of my nature, I should say. +But a short time ago I thought that no evil could be so great as his +danger; now that danger is past, I dread to hear him say that he is +perfectly recovered. The moment he is able he goes to Russia; that is +decided irrevocably. The promise has been claimed and repeated. A solemn +promise cannot be broken for any human consideration. I should despise +him if he broke it; but can I love him for keeping it? His mind is at +this instant agitated as much as mine is—more it cannot. Yet I ought to +be better able to part with him now than when we parted before, because +I have now at least the consolation of knowing that he leaves me against +his will—that his heart will not go from me. This time I cannot be +deceived; I have had the most explicit assurances of his <i>undivided</i> +love. And indeed I was never deceived. All the appearances of regret at +parting with me were genuine. The general witnessed the consequent +struggle in Mr L——'s mind, and this fever followed.</p> + +<p>I will endeavour to calm and content myself with the possession of his +love, and with the assurance that he will return to me as soon as +possible. As soon as possible! but what a vague hope! He sails with the +first fair wind. What a dreadful certainty! Perhaps to-morrow! Oh, my +dearest mother, perhaps to-night!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Leonora L——.</span></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cxij.</h2> + +<h3><i>General B—— to the Duchess of ——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Madam</span>,</p></div> + +<p>To-day Mr L——, finding himself sufficiently recovered, gave orders to +all his suite to embark, and the wind being fair, determined to go on +board immediately. In the midst of the bustle of the preparations for +his departure, Lady Leonora, exhausted by her former activity, and +unable to take any part in what was passing, sat silent, pale and +motionless, opposite to a window, which looked out upon the sea; the +vessel in which her husband was to sail lay in sight, and her eyes were +fixed upon the streamers, watching their motion in the wind.</p> + +<p>Mr L—— was in his own apartment writing letters. An express arrived; +and among other letters for the English ambassador to Russia, there was +a large packet directed to Lady Leonora L——. Upon opening it the +crimson colour flew into her face, and she exclaimed, "Olivia's +letters!—Lady Olivia ——'s letters to Mad. de P——. Who could send +these to me?"</p> + +<p>"I give you joy with all my heart!" cried I; "no matter how they +come—they come in the most fortunate moment possible. I would stake my +life upon it they will unmask Olivia at once. Where is Mr L——? He must +read them this moment."</p> + +<p>I was hurrying out of the room to call my friend, but Lady Leonora +stopped my career, and checked the transport of my joy.</p> + +<p>"You do not think, my dear general," said she, "that I would for any +consideration do so dishonourable an action as to read these letters?"</p> + +<p>"Only let Mr L—— read them," interrupted I, "that is all I ask of your +ladyship. Give them to me. For the soul of me I can see nothing +dishonourable in this. Let Lady Olivia be judged by her own words. Your +ladyship shall not be troubled with her trash, but give the letters to +me, I beseech you."</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot," said Lady Leonora steadily. "It is a great temptation; +but I ought not to yield." She deliberately folded them up in a blank +cover, directed them to Lady Olivia, and sealed them; whilst I, half in +admiration and half in anger, went on expostulating.</p> + +<p>"Good God! this is being too generous! But, my dear Lady Leonora, why +will you sacrifice yourself? This is misplaced delicacy! Show those +letters, and I'll lay my life Mr L—— never goes to Russia."</p> + +<p>"My dear friend," said she, looking up with tears in her eyes, "do not +tempt me beyond my power to resist. Say no more." At this instant Mr +L—— came into the room; and I am ashamed to confess to your grace, I +really was so little master of myself, that I was upon the point of +seizing Olivia's letters, and putting them into his hands. "L——," said +I, "here is your admirable wife absurdly, yes, I must say it, absurdly +standing upon a point of honour with one who has none! That packet which +she has before her——"</p> + +<p>Lady Leonora imposed silence upon me by one of those looks which no man +can resist.</p> + +<p>"My dear Leonora, you are right," said Mr L——; "and you are almost +right, my dear general: I know what that packet contains; and without +doing anything dishonourable, I hold myself absolved from my promise; I +shall not go to Russia, my dearest wife!" He flew into her arms—and I +left them. I question whether they either of them felt much more than I +did.</p> + +<p>For some minutes I was content with knowing that these things had really +happened, that I had heard Mr L—— say he was absolved from all +promises, and that he would not go to Russia; but how did all this +happen so suddenly?—How did he know the contents of Olivia's letters, +and without doing anything dishonourable? There are some people who +cannot be perfectly happy till they know the <i>rationale</i> of their +happiness. I am one of these. I did not feel "a sober certainty of +waking bliss," till I read a letter which Mr L——received by the same +express that brought Olivia's letters, and which he read while we were +debating. I beg your grace's pardon if I am too minute in explanation; +but I do as I would be done by. The letter was from one of the private +secretaries, who is, I understand, a relation and friend of Lady Leonora +L——. As the original goes this night to Lady Olivia, I send your grace +a copy. You will give me credit for copying, and at such a time as this! +I congratulate your grace, and</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">I have the honour to be, &c.,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cxiij.</h2> + +<h3><i>To Mr L——.</i></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[Private.]</p></div> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">London, St James's-street.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Sir</span>,</p></div> + +<p>In the same moment you receive this, your lady, for whom I have the +highest regard, will receive from me a valuable present, a packet of +Lady Olivia ——'s letters to one of her French friends. These letters +were lately found in a French frigate, taken by one of our cruisers; +and, as <i>intercepted correspondence</i> is the order of the day, these, +with all the despatches on board, were transmitted to our office to be +examined, in hopes of making reprisals of state secrets. Some letters +about the court and Emperor of Russia led us to suppose that we should +find some political manoeuvres, and we examined farther. The examination +fortunately fell to my lot, as private secretary. After looking them all +over, however, I found that these papers contain only family secrets: I +obtained permission to send them to Lady Leonora L——, to ensure the +triumph of virtue over vice—to put it into her ladyship's power +completely to unmask her unworthy rival. These letters will show you by +what arts you have been deceived. You will find yourself ridiculed as <i>a +cold awkward Englishman</i>; one who will <i>hottentot again, whatever pains +may be taken to civilise him; a man of ice</i>, to be taken as a lover from +<i>pure charity</i>, or <i>pure curiosity</i>, or the pure <i>besoin d'aimer</i>. Here +are many pure motives, of which you will, my dear sir, take your choice. +You will farther observe in one of her letters, that Lady Olivia +premeditated the design of prevailing with you to carry her to Russia, +that she might show her power <i>to that proudest of earthly prudes</i>, the +Duchess of ***, and that she might <i>gratify her great revenge against +Lady Leonora L——</i>.</p> + +<p>Sincerely hoping, my dear sir, that these letters may open your eyes, +and restore you and my amiable relation to domestic happiness, I make no +apology for the liberty I take, and cannot regret the momentary pain I +may inflict. You are at liberty to make what use you think proper of +this letter.</p> + +<p>I have it in command from my Lord —— to add, that if your health, or +any other circumstances, should render this embassy to Russia less +desirable to you than it appeared some time ago, other arrangements can +be made, and another friend of Government is ready to supply your place.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">I am, my dear sir,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">Yours, &c.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><i>To F. L——, Esq., &c.</i></p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cxiv.</h2> + +<h3><i>From Lady Leonora L—— to the Duchess of ——.</i></h3> + + +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">Yarmouth.</p> + +<p>Joy, dearest mother! Come and share your daughter's happiness!</p> + +<h3><i>Continued by General B——.</i></h3> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Lady Olivia, thus unmasked by her own hand, has fled to the Continent, +declaring that she will never more return to England. There she is +right—England is not a country fit for such women.—But I will never +waste another word or thought upon her.</p> + +<p>Mr L—- has given up the Russian embassy, and returns with Lady Leonora +to L—— Castle to-morrow. He has invited me to accompany them. Lady +Leonora is now the happiest of wives, and your grace the happiest of +mothers.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 50%;">I have the honour and the pleasure to be</p> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Your grace's sincerely attached,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 80%;">J. B.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Letter cxv.</h2> + +<h3><i>The Duchess of —— to Lady Leonora L——.</i></h3> + + +<p>My beloved daughter, pride and delight of your happy mother's heart, I +give you joy! Your temper, fortitude, and persevering affection, have +now their just reward. Enjoy your happiness, heightened as it must be by +the sense of self-approbation, and the sympathy of all who know you. And +now let me indulge the vanity of a mother; let me exult in the +accomplishment of my prophecies, and let me be listened to with due +humility, when I prophesy again. With as much certainty as I foretold +what is now present, I foresee, my child, your future destiny, and I +predict that you will preserve while you live your husband's fondest +affections. Your prudence will prevent you from indulging too far your +taste for retirement, or for the exclusive society of your intimate +friends. Spend your winters in London: your rank, your fortune, and I +may be permitted to add, your character, manners, and abilities, give +you the power of drawing round you persons of the best information and +of the highest talents. Your husband will find, in such society, +everything that can attach him to his home; and in you his most rational +friend and his most charming companion, who will excite him to every +generous and noble exertion.</p> + +<p>For the good and wise there is in love a power unknown to the ignorant +and the vicious, a power of communicating fresh energy to all the +faculties of the soul, of exalting them to the highest state of +perfection. The friendship which in later life succeeds to such love is +perhaps the greatest, and certainly the most permanent blessing of life.</p> + +<p>An admirable German writer—you see, my dear, that I have no prejudices +against good German writers—an admirable German writer says, that "Love +is like the morning shadows, which diminish as the day advances; but +friendship is like the shadows of the evening, which increase even till +the setting of the sun."</p> + + +<h4>THE END.</h4> + + +<br /><br /> +<div class="footnotes"> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Laberius.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Certain ladies at this time carried pictures of the eyes of +their favourites.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> This letter does not appear.</p></div> + +</div> + + +<br /><br /> +<b>Transcriber's Notes:</b><br /> +hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in the original<br /> +Page 61, out of doubt, Admire ==> out of doubt. Admire<br /> +Page 88, the eclat of public ==> the éclat of public<br /> +Page 124, grave and inpenetrable ==> grave and impenetrable + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Leonora, by Maria Edgeworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEONORA *** + +***** This file should be named 35638-h.htm or 35638-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/6/3/35638/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Leonora + +Author: Maria Edgeworth + +Release Date: March 20, 2011 [EBook #35638] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEONORA *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: --It was long past midnight,--she had a heap of Mr. +L----'s old letters beside her. She denied that she was in tears.] + + + + + LEONORA + + BY + + MARIA EDGEWORTH + + [Illustration] + + "O lady Leonora! lady Leonora is ill!" exclaimed + every voice. The consternation was wonderful. + + LONDON + J.M. DENT & Co. ALDINE HOUSE + 69, GREAT EASTERN STREET, E.C. + 1893 + + + + +[Illustration] + + NOTE. + + +Leonora, though not published until 1806, was commenced three years +before that date: the circumstances under which it was written were to a +certain extent unique in Maria Edgeworth's life; for we are told that +throughout the time occupied in writing the story, she had in mind the +offer of marriage made to her by Monsieur Edelcrantz, a Swedish +gentleman of good position, "of superior understanding and mild +manners," as she told her aunt in a letter partly written before the +proposal and finished afterwards. This seems, from the biographies, to +have been the only time this truly good and sensible woman was ever +sought in marriage by any man; and it shows some of the good qualities +she possessed, that though she refused him, yet from the respect she +bore him and the esteem in which she held him, this story was written to +a large extent with a view to his approbation, though we are told that +she never knew whether or no he had read it. + +On the next page is appended a list of the principal editions of this +volume. + +Leonora, by Maria Edgeworth, 2 vols., London, 1806. + +---- Another edition, with _Letters on Several Subjects_, and + _An Essay on Self-Justification_ (forming Vol. IV. of _Tales + and Miscellaneous Pieces_, by Maria Edgeworth, 14 vols.), London, + 1825. + +---- Another edition (Vol. XIII. of _Novels and Tales_ of Maria + Edgeworth, 18 vols.), London, 1832-33. + +Many reprints from the stereotype plates of this edition have been + issued in various forms and with varying arrangement of the stories. + +Translated into French in 1807, and another edition in 1812. + + F. J. S. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + + LEONORA. + + + Letter i. + + _Lady Olivia to Lady Leonora L----._ + + +What a misfortune it is to be born a woman! In vain, dear Leonora, would +you reconcile me to my doom. Condemned to incessant hypocrisy, or +everlasting misery, woman is the slave or the outcast of society. +Confidence in our fellow-creatures, or in ourselves, alike forbidden us, +to what purpose have we understandings, which we may not use? hearts, +which we may not trust? To our unhappy sex genius and sensibility are +the most treacherous gifts of Heaven. Why should we cultivate talents +merely to gratify the caprice of tyrants? Why seek for knowledge, which +can prove only that our wretchedness is irremediable? If a ray of light +break in upon us, it is but to make darkness more visible; to show us +the narrow limits, the Gothic structure, the impenetrable barriers of +our prison. Forgive me if on this subject I cannot speak--if I cannot +think--with patience. Is it not fabled, that the gods, to punish some +refractory mortal of the male kind, doomed his soul to inhabit upon +earth a female form? A punishment more degrading, or more difficult to +endure, could scarcely be devised by cruelty omnipotent. What dangers, +what sorrows, what persecutions, what nameless evils awaits the woman +who dares to rise above the prejudices of her sex! + + "Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!" + +who, without a struggle, submit their reason to be swathed by all the +absurd bandages of custom. What, though they cripple or distort their +minds; are not these deformities beauties in the eyes of fashion? and +are not these people the favoured nurslings of the _World_, secure of +her smiles, her caresses, her fostering praise, her partial protection, +through all the dangers of youth and all the dotage of age? + + "Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!" + +who learn to speak, and think, and act by rote; who have a phrase, or a +maxim, or a formula ready for every occasion; who follow-- + + "All the nurse and all the priest have taught." + +And is it possible that Olivia can envy these _tideless-blooded_ souls +their happiness--their apathy? Is her high spirit so broken by +adversity? Not such the promise of her early years, not such the +language of her unsophisticated heart! Alas! I scarcely know, I scarcely +recollect, that proud self, which was wont to defy the voice of opinion, +and to set at nought the decrees of prejudice. The events of my life +shall be related, or rather the history of my sensations; for in a life +like mine sensations become events--a metamorphosis which you will see +in every page of my history. I feel an irresistible impulse to open my +whole heart to you, my dear Leonora. I ought to be awed by the +superiority of your understanding and of your character; yet there is +an indulgence in your nature, a softness in your temper, that dissipates +fear, and irresistibly attracts confidence. + +You have generously refused to be prejudiced against me by busy, +malignant rumour; you have resolved to judge of me for yourself. +Nothing, then, shall be concealed. In such circumstances I cannot seek +to extenuate any of my faults or follies. I am ready to acknowledge them +all with self-humiliation more poignant than the sarcasms of my +bitterest enemies. But I must pause till I have summoned courage for my +confession. Dear Leonora, adieu! + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter ij. + + _Olivia to Leonora._ + + +Full of life and spirits, with a heart formed for all the enthusiasm, +for all the delicacy of love, I married early, in the fond expectation +of meeting a heart suited to my own. Cruelly disappointed, I +found--merely a husband. My heart recoiled upon itself; true to my own +principles of virtue, I scorned dissimulation. I candidly confessed to +my husband, that my love was extinguished. I proved to him, alas! too +clearly, that we were not born for each other. The attractive moment of +illusion was past--never more to return; the repulsive reality remained. +The living was chained to the dead, and, by the inexorable tyranny of +English laws, that chain, eternally galling to innocence, can be severed +only by the desperation of vice. Divorce, according to our barbarous +institutions, cannot be obtained without guilt. Appalled at the thought, +I saw no hope but in submission. Yet to submit to live with the man I +could not love was, to a mind like mine, impossible. My principles and +my feelings equally revolted from this legal prostitution. We separated. +I sought for balm to my wounded heart in foreign climes. + +To the beauties of nature I was ever feelingly alive. Amidst the sublime +scenes of Switzerland, and on the consecrated borders of her classic +lakes, I sometimes forgot myself to happiness. Felicity, how +transient!--transient as the day-dreams that played upon my fancy in the +bright morning of love. Alas! not all creation's charms could soothe me +to repose. I wandered in search of that which change of place cannot +afford. There was an aching void in my heart--an indescribable sadness +over my spirits. Sometimes I had recourse to books; but how few were in +unison with my feelings, or touched the trembling chords of my +disordered mind! Commonplace morality I could not endure. History +presented nothing but a mass of crimes. Metaphysics promised some +relief, and I bewildered myself in their not inelegant labyrinth. But to +the bold genius and exquisite pathos of some German novelists I hold +myself indebted for my largest portion of ideal bliss; for those rapt +moments, when sympathy with kindred souls transported me into better +worlds, and consigned vulgar realities to oblivion. + +I am well aware, my Leonora, that you approve not of these my favourite +writers: but yours is the morality of one who has never known sorrow. I +also would interdict such cordials to the happy. But would you forbid +those to taste felicity in dreams who feel only misery when awake? Would +you dash the cup of Lethe from lips to which no other beverage is +salubrious or sweet? + +By the use of these opiates my soul gradually settled into a sort of +pleasing pensive melancholy. Has it not been said, that melancholy is a +characteristic of genius? I make no pretensions to genius: but I am +persuaded that melancholy is the habitual, perhaps the natural state of +those who have the misfortune to feel with delicacy. + +You, my dear Leonora, will class this notion amongst what you once +called my refined errors. Indeed I must confess, that I see in you an +exception so striking as almost to compel me to relinquish my theory. +But again let me remind you, that your lot in life has been different +from mine. Alas! how different! Why had not I such a friend, such a +mother as yours, early to direct my uncertain steps, and to educate me +to happiness? I might have been----. But no matter what I might have +been----. I must tell you what I have been. + +Separated from my husband, without a guide, without a friend at the most +perilous period of my life, I was left to that most insidious of +counsellors--my own heart--my own weak heart. When I was least prepared +to resist the impression, it was my misfortune to meet with a man of a +soul congenial to my own. Before I felt my danger, I was entangled +beyond the possibility of escape. The net was thrown over my heart; its +struggles were to no purpose but to exhaust my strength. Virtue +commanded me to be miserable--and I was miserable. But do I dare to +expect your pity, Leonora, for such an attachment? It excites your +indignation, perhaps your horror. Blame, despise, detest me; all this +would I rather bear than deceive you into fancying me better than I +really am. + +Do not, however, think me worse. If my views had been less pure, if I +had felt less reliance on the firmness of my own principles, and less +repugnance to artifice, I might easily have avoided some appearances, +which have injured me in the eyes of the world. With real contrition I +confess, that a fatal mixture of masculine independence of spirit, and +of female tenderness of heart, has betrayed me into many imprudences; +but of vice, and of that meanest species of vice, hypocrisy, I thank +Heaven, my conscience can acquit me. All I have now to hope is, that +you, my indulgent, my generous Leonora, will not utterly condemn me. +Truth and gratitude are my only claims to your friendship--to a +friendship, which would be to me the first of earthly blessings, which +might make me amends for all I have lost. Consider this before, unworthy +as I am, you reject me from your esteem. Counsel, guide, save me! +Without vanity, but with confidence I say it, I have a heart that will +repay you for affection. You will find me easily moved, easily governed +by kindness. Yours has already sunk deep into my soul, and your power is +unlimited over the affections and over the understanding of + + Your obliged + Olivia. + + + + + Letter iij. + + _From Lady Leonora L---- to her mother, the Duchess of ----, + enclosing the preceding letters._ + + +I am permitted to send you, my dear mother, the enclosed letters. Mixed +with what you may not approve, you will, I think, find in them proofs of +an affectionate heart and superior abilities. Lady Olivia is just +returned to England. Scandal, imported from the continent, has had such +an effect in prejudicing many of her former friends and acquaintance +against her, that she is in danger of being excluded from that society +of which she was once the ornament and the favourite; but I am +determined to support her cause, and to do everything in my power to +counteract the effects of malignity. I cannot sufficiently express the +indignation that I feel against the mischievous spirit of scandal, +which destroys happiness at every breath, and which delights in the +meanest of all malignant feelings--the triumph over the errors of +superior characters. Olivia has been much blamed, because she has been +much envied. + +Indeed, my dear mother, you have been prejudiced against her by false +reports. Do not imagine that her fascinating manners have blinded my +judgment: I assure you that I have discerned, or rather that she has +revealed to me, all her faults: and ought not this candour to make a +strong impression upon my mind in her favour? Consider how young, how +beautiful she was at her first entrance into fashionable life; how much +exposed to temptation, surrounded by flatterers, and without a single +friend. I am persuaded that she would have escaped all censure, and +would have avoided all the errors with which she now reproaches herself, +if she had been blessed with a mother such as mine. + + Leonora L---- + + + + Letter iv. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + + My dearest Child, + +I must answer your last before I sleep--before I can sleep in peace. I +have just finished reading the rhapsody which it enclosed; and whilst my +mind is full and warm upon the subject, let me write, for I can write to +my own satisfaction at no other time. I admire and love you, my child, +for the generous indignation you express against those who trample upon +the fallen, or who meanly triumph over the errors of superior genius; +and if I seem more cold, or more severe, than you wish me to be, +attribute this to my anxiety for your happiness, and to that caution +which is perhaps the infirmity of age. + +In the course of my long life I have, alas! seen vice and folly dressed +in so many different fashions, that I can find no difficulty in +detecting them under any disguise; but your unpractised eyes are almost +as easily deceived as when you were five years old, and when you could +not believe that your pasteboard nun was the same person in her various +changes of attire. + +Nothing would tempt you to associate with those who have avowed +themselves regardless of right and wrong; but I must warn you against +another, and a far more dangerous class, who, professing the most +refined delicacy of sentiment, and boasting of invulnerable virtue, +exhibit themselves in the most improper and hazardous situations; and +who, because they are without fear, expect to be deemed free from +reproach. Either from miraculous good fortune, or from a singularity of +temper, these adventurous heroines may possibly escape with what they +call perfect innocence. So much the worse for society. Their example +tempts others, who fall a sacrifice to their weakness and folly. I would +punish the tempters in this case more than the victims, and for them the +most effectual species of punishment is contempt. Neglect is death to +these female lovers of notoriety. The moment they are out of fashion +their power to work mischief ceases. Those who from their character and +rank have influence over public opinion are bound to consider these +things in the choice of their associates. This is peculiarly necessary +in days when attempts are made to level all distinctions. You have +sometimes hinted to me, my dear daughter, with all proper delicacy, that +I am too strict in my notions, and that, unknown to myself, my pride +mixes with morality. Be it so: the pride of family, and the pride of +virtue, should reciprocally support each other. Were I asked what I +think the best guard to a nobility in this or in any other country, I +should answer, VIRTUE. I admire that simple epitaph in Westminster Abbey +on the Duchess of Newcastle:--"Her name was Margaret Lucas, youngest +sister to the Lord Lucas of Colchester;--a noble family, for all the +brothers were valiant and all the sisters virtuous." + +I look to the temper of the times in forming rules for conduct. Of late +years we have seen wonderful changes in female manners. I may be like +the old marquis in Gil Blas, who contended that even the peaches of +modern days had deteriorated; but I fear that my complaints of the +degeneracy of human kind are better founded than his fears for the +vegetable creation. A taste for the elegant profligacy of French +gallantry was, I remember, introduced into this country before the +destruction of the French monarchy. Since that time, some sentimental +writers and pretended philosophers of our own and foreign countries have +endeavoured to confound all our ideas of morality. To every rule of +right they have found exceptions, and on these they have fixed the +public attention by adorning them with all the splendid decorations of +eloquence; so that the rule is despised or forgotten, and the exception +triumphantly established in its stead. These orators seem as if they had +been employed by Satan to plead the cause of vice; and, as if possessed +by the evil spirit, they speak with a vehemence which carries away their +auditors, or with a subtlety which deludes their better judgment. They +put extreme cases, in which virtue may become vice, or vice virtue: they +exhibit criminal passions in constant connexion with the most exalted, +the most amiable virtues; thus making use of the best feelings of human +nature for the worst purposes, they engage pity or admiration +perpetually on the side of guilt. Eternally talking of philosophy and +philanthropy, they borrow the terms only to perplex the ignorant and +seduce the imagination. They have their systems and their theories, and +in theory they pretend that the general good of society is their sole +immutable rule of morality, and in practice they make the variable +feelings of each individual the judges of this general good. Their +systems disdain all the vulgar virtues, intent upon some _beau ideal_ of +perfection or perfectibility. They set common sense and common honesty +at defiance. No matter: their doctrine, so convenient to the passions +and soporific to the conscience, can never want partisans; especially by +weak and enthusiastic women it is adopted and propagated with eagerness; +then they become personages of importance, and zealots in support of +their sublime opinions; and they can read--and they can write--and they +can talk--and they can _effect a revolution in public opinion_! I am +afraid, indeed, that they can; for of late years we have heard more of +sentiment than of principles; more of the rights of woman than of her +duties. We have seen talents disgraced by the conduct of their +possessors, and perverted in the vain attempt to defend what is +unjustifiable. + +Where must all this end? Where the abuse of reason inevitably ends--in +the ultimate law of force. If in this age of reason women make a bad use +of that power which they have obtained by the cultivation of their +understanding, they will degrade and enslave themselves beyond +redemption; they will reduce their sex to a situation worse than it ever +experienced even in the ages of ignorance and superstition. If men find +that the virtue of women diminishes in proportion as intellectual +cultivation increases, they will connect, fatally for the freedom and +happiness of our sex, the ideas of female ignorance and female +innocence; they will decide that one is the effect of the other. They +will not pause to distinguish between the use and the abuse of reason; +they will not stand by to see further experiments tried at their +expense, but they will prohibit knowledge altogether as a pernicious +commodity, and will exert the superior power which nature and society +place in their hands, to enforce their decrees. Opinion obtained freedom +for women; by opinion they may be again enslaved. It is therefore the +interest of the female world, and of society, that women should be +deterred by the dread of shame from passing the bounds of discretion. No +false lenity, no partiality in favour of amusing talents or agreeable +manners, should admit of exceptions which become dangerous examples of +impunity. The rank and superior understanding of a _delinquent_ ought +not to be considered in mitigation, but as aggravating circumstances. +Rank makes ill conduct more conspicuous: talents make it more dangerous. +Women of abilities, if they err, usually employ all their powers to +justify rather than to amend their faults. + +I am afraid, my dear daughter, that my general arguments are closing +round your Olivia; but I must bid you a good night, for my poor eyes +will serve me no longer. God bless you, my dear child. + + + + + Letter v. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + +I agree with you, my dear mother, that in these times especially, it is +incumbent upon all persons, whose rank or reputation may influence +public opinion, to be particularly careful to support the cause of +female honour, of virtue, and religion. With the same object in view, we +may however differ in the choice of means for its attainment. Pleasure +as well as pain acts upon human creatures; and therefore, in governing +them, may not reward be full as efficacious as punishment? Our sex are +sufficiently apprised of the fatal consequences of ill conduct; the +advantages of well-earned reputation should be at least as great, as +certain, and as permanent. + +In former times, a single finger pointed at the scutcheon of a knight +challenged him to defend his fame; but the defiance was open, the +defence was public; and if the charge proved groundless, it injured none +but the malicious accuser. In our days female reputation, which is of a +nature more delicate than the honour of any knight, may be destroyed by +the finger of private malice. The whisper of secret scandal, which +admits of no fair or public answer, is too often sufficient to dishonour +a life of spotless fame. This is the height, not only of injustice, but +of impolicy. Women will become indifferent to reputation, which it is so +difficult, even by the prudence of years, to acquire, and which it is so +easy to lose in a moment, by the malice or thoughtlessness of those who +invent or who repeat scandal. Those who call themselves the world often +judge without listening to evidence, and proceed upon suspicion with as +much promptitude and severity as if they had the most convincing proofs. +But because Caesar, nearly two thousand years ago, said, that his wife +ought not even to be suspected, and divorced her upon the strength of +this sentiment, shall we make it a general maxim, that suspicion +justifies punishment? We might as well applaud those, who when their +friends are barely suspected to be tainted with the plague, drive them +from all human comfort and assistance. + +Even where women, from the thoughtless gaiety of youth, or the impulse +of inexperienced enthusiasm, may have given some slight cause for +censure, I would not have virtue put on all her gorgon terrors, nor +appear circled by the vengeful band of prudes; her chastening hand will +be more beneficially felt if she wear her more benign form. To place the +imprudent in the same class with the vicious is injustice and impolicy; +were the same punishment and the same disgrace to be affixed to small +and to great offences, the number of _capital_ offenders would certainly +increase. Those who were disposed to yield to their passions would, when +they had once failed in exact decorum, see no motive, no fear to +restrain them; and there would be no pause, no interval between error +and profligacy. Amongst females who have been imprudent, there are many +things to be considered which ought to recommend them to mercy. The +judge, when he is obliged to pronounce the immutable sentence of the +law, often, with tears, wishes that it were in his power to mitigate the +punishment: the decisions of opinion may and must vary with +circumstances, else the degree of reprobation which they inflict cannot +be proportioned to the offence, or calculated for the good of society. +Among the mitigating circumstances I should be inclined to name even +those which you bring in aggravation. Talents, and what is called +genius, in our sex are often connected with a warmth of heart, an +enthusiasm of temper, which expose to dangers from which the coldness of +mediocrity is safe. In the illuminated palace of ice, the lights which +render the spectacle splendid, and which raise the admiration of the +beholders, endanger the fabric and tend to its destruction. + +But you will tell me, dear mother, that allusion is not argument--and I +am almost afraid to proceed, lest you should think me an advocate for +vice. I would not shut the gates of mercy, inexorably and +indiscriminately, upon all those of my own sex, who have even been _more +than imprudent_. + + "He taught them shame, the sudden sense of ill-- + Shame, Nature's hasty conscience, which forbids + Weak inclination ere it grows to will, + Or stays rash will before it grows to deeds." + +Whilst a woman is alive to shame, she cannot be dead to virtue. But by +injudicious or incessant reproach, this principle, even where it is most +exquisite, may be most easily destroyed. The mimosa, when too long +exposed to each rude touch, loses its retractile sensibility. It ought +surely to be the care of the wise and benevolent to cherish that +principle, implanted in our nature as the guard of virtue, that +principle upon which legislators rest the force of punishment, and all +the grand interests of society. + +My dear mother, perhaps you will be surprised at the style in which I +have been writing, and you will smile at hearing your Leonora discuss +the duties of legislators, and the grand interests of society. She has +not done so from presumption, or from affectation. She was alarmed by +your supposing that her judgment was deluded by fascinating manners, and +she determined to produce _general_ arguments, to convince you that she +is not actuated by particular prepossession. You see that I have at +least some show of reason on my side. I have forborne to mention +Olivia's name: but now that I have obviated, I hope by reasoning, the +imputation of partiality, I may observe that all my arguments are +strongly in her favour. She had been attacked by slander; _the world_ +has condemned her upon suspicion merely. She has been imprudent; but I +repeat, in the strongest terms, that I am _convinced of her innocence_; +and that I should bitterly regret that a woman with such an affectionate +heart, such uncommon candour, and such superior abilities, should be +lost to society. + +Tell me, my dear mother, that you are no longer in anxiety about the +consequences of my attachment to Olivia. + + Your affectionate daughter, + Leonora. + + + + + Letter vi. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + +You lament, my dear child, that such an affectionate heart, such great +abilities as Olivia's should be lost to society. Before I sympathise in +your pity, my judgment must be convinced that it is reasonable. + +What proofs has Lady Olivia given of her affectionate heart? She is at +variance with both her parents; she is separated from her husband; and +she leaves her child in a foreign country, to be educated by strangers. +Am I to understand, that her ladyship's neglecting to perform the duties +of a daughter, a wife, and a mother, are proofs of an affectionate +heart? As to her superior talents, do they contribute to her own +happiness, or to the happiness of others? Evidently not to her own; for +by her account of herself, she is one of the most miserable wretches +alive! She tells you that "_she went to foreign climes in search of balm +for a wounded heart, and wandered from place to place, looking for what +no place could afford_." She talks of "_indescribable sadness--an aching +void--an impenetrable prison--darkness visible--dead bodies chained to +living ones_;" and she exhibits all the disordered furniture of a +"diseased mind." But you say, that though her powers are thus +insufficient to make herself happy, they may amuse or instruct the +world; and of this I am to judge by the letters which you have sent me. +You admire fine writing; so do I. I class eloquence high amongst the +fine arts. But by eloquence I mean something more than Dr Johnson +defines it to be, "the art of speaking with fluency and elegance." This +is an art which is now possessed to a certain degree by every +boarding-school miss. Every scribbling young lady can now string +sentences and sentiments together, and can turn a period harmoniously. +Upon the strength of these accomplishments they commence heroines, and +claim the privileges of the order; privileges which go to an indefinite +and most alarming extent. Every heroine may have her own code of +morality for her private use, and she is to be tried by no other; she +may rail as loudly as she pleases "at the barbarous institutions of +society," and may deplore "_the inexorable tyranny of the English +laws_." If she find herself involved in delicate entanglements of +crossing duties, she may break through any one, or all of them, to +extricate herself with a noble contempt of prejudice. + +I have promised to reason calmly; but I cannot repress the terror which +I feel at the idea of my daughter's becoming the friend of one of these +women. Olivia's letters are, I think, in the true heroine style; and +they might make a brilliant figure in a certain class of novels. She +begins with a bold exclamation on "the misfortune of being born a +woman!--_the slave or the outcast of society, condemned to incessant +hypocrisy!_" Does she mean modesty? Her manly soul feels it "_the most +degrading punishment that omnipotent cruelty could devise, to be +imprisoned in a female form_." From such a masculine spirit some +fortitude and magnanimity might be expected; but presently she begs to +be pitied, for a broken spirit, and more than female tenderness of +heart. I have observed that the ladies who wish to be men are usually +those who have not sufficient strength of mind to be women. + +Olivia proceeds in an ironical strain to envy, as "_the happiest of +their sex, those who submit to be swathed by custom_." These persons she +stigmatizes with the epithet of _tideless-blooded_. It is the common +trick of unprincipled women to affect to despise those who conduct +themselves with propriety. Prudence they term _coldness_; fortitude, +_insensibility_; and regard to the rights of others, _prejudice_. By +this perversion of terms they would laugh or sneer virtue out of +countenance; and, by robbing her of all praise, they would deprive her +of all immediate motive. Conscious of their own degradation, they would +lower everything, and everybody, to their own standard: they would make +you believe, that those who have not yielded to their passions are +destitute of sensibility; that the love which is not blazoned forth in +glaring colours is not entitled to our sympathy. The sacrifice of the +strongest feelings of the human heart to a sense of duty is to be called +mean, or absurd; but the shameless phrensy of passion, exposing itself +to public gaze, is to be an object of admiration. These heroines talk of +strength of mind; but they forget that strength of mind is to be shown +in resisting their passions, not in yielding to them. Without being +absolutely of an opinion, which I have heard maintained, that all virtue +is sacrifice, I am convinced that the essential characteristic of virtue +is to bear and forbear. These sentimentalists can do neither. They talk +of sacrifices and generosity; but they are the veriest egotists--the +most selfish creatures alive. + +Open your eyes, my dear Leonora, and see things as they really are. Lady +Olivia thinks it a sufficient excuse for abandoning her husband, to say, +that she found "_his soul was not in unison with hers_." She thinks it +an adequate apology for a criminal attachment, to tell you that "_the +net was thrown over her heart before she felt her danger: that all its +struggles were to no purpose, but to exhaust her strength_." + +If she did not feel her danger, she prepared it. The course of reading +which her ladyship followed was the certain preparation for her +consequent conduct. She tells us that she could not endure "_the +commonplace of morality, but metaphysics promised her some relief_." In +these days a heroine need not be a moralist, but she must be a +metaphysician. She must "_wander in the not inelegant labyrinth_;" and +if in the midst of it she comes unawares upon the monster vice, she must +not start, though she have no clue to secure her retreat. + +From metaphysics Lady Olivia went on to German novels. "_For her largest +portions of bliss, for those rapt moments which consigned vulgar +realities to oblivion_," she owns herself indebted to those writers, who +promise an ideal world of pleasure, which, like the _mirage_ in the +desert, bewilders the feverish imagination. I always suspected the +imagination of these _women of feeling_ to be more susceptible than +their hearts. They want excitation for their morbid sensibility, and +they care not at what expense it is procured. If they could make all the +pleasures of life into one cordial they would swallow it at a draught in +a fit of sentimental spleen. The mental intemperance that they indulge +in promiscuous novel-reading destroys all vigour and clearness of +judgment; everything dances in the varying medium of their imagination. +Sophistry passes for reasoning; nothing appears profound but what is +obscure; nothing sublime but what is beyond the reach of mortal +comprehension. To their vitiated taste the simple pathos, which +o'ersteps not the modesty of nature, appears cold, tame, and insipid; +they must have _scenes_ and a _coup de theatre_; and ranting, and +raving, and stabbing, and drowning, and poisoning; for with them there +is no love without murder. Love, in their representations, is indeed a +distorted, ridiculous, horrid monster, from whom common sense, taste, +decency, and nature recoil. + +But I will be calm.--You say, my dear Leonora, that your judgment has +not been blinded by Lady Olivia's fascinating manners; but that you are +strongly influenced in her favour by that candour, with which she has +revealed to you all her faults. The value of candour in individuals +should be measured by their sensibility to shame. When a woman throws +off all restraint, and then desires me to admire her candour, I am +astonished only at her assurance. Do not be the dupe of such candour. +Lady Olivia avows a criminal passion, yet you say that you have no +doubts of her innocence. The persuasion of your unsuspecting heart is no +argument: when you give me any proofs in her favour, I shall pay them +all due attention. In the meantime I have given you my opinion of those +ladies who place themselves in the most perilous situations, and then +expect you to believe them safe. + +Olivia's professions of regard for you are indeed enthusiastic. She +tells you, that "_your power is unlimited over her heart and +understanding, that your friendship would be to her one of the greatest +of earthly blessings_." May be so--but I cannot wish you to be her +friend. With whatever confidence she makes the assertion, do not believe +that she has a heart capable of feeling the value of yours. These +sentimental, unprincipled women make the worst friends in the world. We +are often told that, "poor creatures! they do nobody any harm but +themselves;" but in society it is scarcely possible for a woman to do +harm to herself without doing harm to others; all her connexions must +be involved in the consequences of her imprudence. Besides, what +confidence can you repose in them? If you should happen to be an +obstacle in the way of any of their fancies, do you think that they will +respect you or your interest, when they have not scrupled to sacrifice +their own to the gratification of their passions? Do you think that the +gossamer of sentiment will restrain those whom the strong chains of +prudence could not hold? + +O! my dearest child, forcibly as these arguments carry conviction to my +mind, I dread lest your compassionate, generous temper should prevent +their reaching your understanding. Then let me conjure you, by all the +respect which you have ever shown for your mother's opinions, by all +that you hold dear or sacred, beware of forming an intimacy with an +unprincipled woman. Believe me to be + + Your truly affectionate mother, + + + + + Letter vij. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + +No daughter ever felt more respect for the opinions of a parent than I +do for yours, my dearest mother; but you have never, even from +childhood, required from me a blind submission--you have always +encouraged me to desire conviction. And now, when the happiness of +another is at stake, you will forgive me if I am less disposed to yield +than I should be, I hope, if my own interest or taste were alone +concerned. + +You ask me what proofs I have of Lady Olivia's innocence. Believe me, I +have such as are convincing to my unbiassed judgment, and such as would +be sufficient to satisfy all your doubts, were I at liberty to lay the +whole truth before you. But even to exculpate herself, Olivia will not +ruin in your opinion her husband, of whom you imagine that she has no +reason to complain. I, who know how anxious she is to obtain your +esteem, can appreciate the sacrifice that she makes; and in this +instance, as in many others, I admire her magnanimity; it is equal to +her candour, for which she is entitled to praise even by your own +principles, dear mother: since, far from having _thrown off all +restraint_, she is exquisitely susceptible of shame. + +As to her understanding--have no persons of great talents ever been +unfortunate? Frequently we see that they have not been able, by all +their efforts and all their powers, to remedy the defects in the +characters and tempers of those with whom they have unhappily been +connected. Olivia married very young, and was unfortunately mistaken in +her choice of a husband: on that subject I can only deplore her error +and its consequences: but as to her disagreements with her own family, I +do not think her to blame. For the mistakes we make in the choice of +lovers or friends we may be answerable, but we cannot be responsible for +the faults of the relations who are given to us by nature. If we do not +please them, it may be our misfortune; it is not necessarily our fault. +I cannot be more explicit, without betraying Lady Olivia's confidence, +and implicating others in defending her. + +With respect to that attachment of which you speak with so much just +severity, she has given me the strongest assurances that she will do +everything in her power to conquer it. Absence, you know, is the first +and the most difficult step, and this she has taken. Her course of +reading displeases you: I cannot defend it: but I am persuaded that it +is not a proof of her taste being vitiated. Many people read ordinary +novels as others take snuff, merely from habit, from the want of petty +excitation; and not, as you suppose, from the want of exorbitant or +improper stimulus. Those who are unhappy have recourse to any trifling +amusement that can change the course of their thoughts. I do not justify +Olivia for having chosen such _comforters_ as certain novels, but I pity +her and impute this choice to want of fortitude, not to depravity of +taste. Before she married, a strict injunction was laid upon her not to +read any book that was called a novel: this raised in her mind a sort of +perverse curiosity. By making any books or opinions contraband, the +desire to read and circulate them is increased; bad principles are +consequently smuggled into families, and being kept secret, can never be +subject to fair examination. I think it must be advantageous to the +right side of any question, that all which can be said against it should +be openly heard, that it may be answered. I do not + + "Hate when vice can bolt her arguments;" + +for I know that virtue has a tongue to answer her. The more vice repeats +her assertions, the better; because when familiarized, their boldness +will not astound the understanding, and the charm of novelty will not be +mistaken for the power of truth. We may observe, that the admiration for +the class of writers to whom you allude, though violent in its +commencement, has abated since they have been more known; and numbers, +who began with rapture, have ended with disgust. Person of vivacious +imaginations, like Olivia, may be caught at first view by whatever has +the appearance of grandeur or sublimity; but if time be allowed for +examination, they will infallibly detect the disproportions, and these +will ever afterwards shock their taste: if you will not allow leisure +for comparison--if you say, do not look at such strange objects, the +obedient eyes may turn aside, but the rebel imagination pictures +something a thousand times more wonderful and charming than the reality. +I will venture to predict, that Olivia will soon be tired of the species +of novels which she now admires, and that, once surfeited with these +books, and convinced of their pernicious effects, she will never relapse +into the practice of novel reading. + +As to her taste for metaphysical books----Dear mother, I am very daring +to differ with you in so many points; but permit me to say, that I do +not agree with you in detesting metaphysics. People may lose themselves +in that labyrinth; but why should they meet with vice in the midst of +it? The characters of a moralist, a practical moralist, and a +metaphysician, are not incompatible, as we may see in many amiable and +illustrious examples. To examine human motives, and the nature of the +human mind, is not to destroy the power of virtue, or to increase the +influence of vice. The chemist, after analysing certain substances, and +after discovering their constituent parts, can lay aside all that is +heterogeneous, and recompound the substance in a purer state. From +analogy we might infer, that the motives of metaphysicians ought to be +purer than those of the vulgar and ignorant. To discover the art of +converting base into noble passions, or to obtain a universal remedy for +all mental diseases, is perhaps beyond the power of metaphysicians; but +in the pursuit useful discoveries may be made. + +As to Olivia's letters--I am sorry I sent them to you; for I see that +they have lowered, instead of raising her in your opinion. But if you +criticise letters, written in openness and confidence of heart to a +private friend, as if they were set before the tribunal of the public, +you are--may I say it?--not only severe, but unjust; for you try and +condemn the subjects of one country by the laws of another. + +Dearest mother, be half as indulgent to Olivia as you are to me: indeed +you are prejudiced against her, and because you see some faults, you +think her whole character vicious. But would you cut down a fine tree +because a leaf is withered, or because the canker-worm has eaten into +the bud? Even if a main branch were decayed, are there not remedies +which, skilfully applied, can save the tree from destruction, and +perhaps restore it to its pristine beauty? + +And now, having exhausted all my allusions, all my arguments, and all my +little stock of eloquence, I must come to a plain matter of fact-- + +Before I received your letter I had invited Lady Olivia to spend some +time at L---- Castle. I fear that you will blame my precipitation, and I +reproach myself for it, because I know it will give you pain. However, +though you will think me imprudent, I am certain you would rather that I +were imprudent than unjust. I have defended Olivia from what I believe +to be unmerited censure; I have invited her to my house; she has +accepted my proffered kindness; to withdraw it afterwards would be doing +her irreparable injury: it would confirm all that the world can suspect: +it would be saying to the censorious--I am convinced that you are right, +and I deliver your victim up to you. + +Thus I should betray the person whom I undertook to defend: her +confidence in me, her having but for a moment accepted my protection, +would be her ruin. I could not act in so base a manner. + +Fear nothing for me, my best, but too anxious friend. I may do Lady +Olivia some good; she can do me no harm. She may learn the principles +which you have taught me; I can never catch from her any tastes or +habits which you would disapprove. As to the rest, I hazard little or +nothing. The hereditary credit which I enjoy in my maternal right +enables me to assist others without injuring myself. + + Your affectionate daughter, + Leonora. + + + + + Letter viij. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + + My dearest Child, + +I hope that you are in the right, and that I am in the wrong. + + Your affectionate mother, + + + + + Letter ix. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +Prepare yourself, my ever dear and charming Gabrielle, for all the +torments of jealousy. Know, that since I came to England I have formed a +new friendship with a woman who is interesting in the extreme, who has +charmed me by the simplicity of her manners and the generous sensibility +of her heart. Her character is certainly too reserved: yet even this +defect has perhaps increased her power over my imagination, and +consequently over my affections. I know not by what magic she has +obtained it, but she has already an ascendency over me, which would +quite astonish _you_, who know my wayward fancies and independent +spirit. + +Alas! I confess my heart is weak indeed; and I fear that all the power +of friendship and philosophy combined will never strengthen it +sufficiently. O, Gabrielle! how can I hope to obliterate from my soul +that attachment which has marked the colour of my destiny for years? Yet +such courage, such cruel courage is required of me, and of such I have +boasted myself capable. Lady Leonora L----, my new friend, has, by all +the English eloquence of virtue, obtained from me a promise, which, I +fear, I shall not have the fortitude to keep--but I must make the +attempt----Forbid R*** to write to me----Yes! I have written the +words----Forbid R*** to write to me----Forbid him to think of me----I +will do more--if possible I will forbid myself henceforward to think of +him--to think of love--Adieu, my Gabrielle----All the illusions of life +are over, and a dreary blank of future existence lies before me, +terminated only by the grave. To-morrow I go to L---- Castle, with +feelings which I can compare only to those of the unfortunate la +Valliere when she renounced her lover, and resolved to bury herself in a +cloister.--Alas! why have not I the resource of devotion? + + Your unhappy + Olivia. + + + + + Letter x. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +Publish my travels!--Not I, my dear friend. The world shall never have +the pleasure of laughing at General B----'s trip to Paris. Before a man +sets about to inform others, he should have seen, not only the surface +but the bottom of things; he should have had, not only a _vue d'oiseau_, +but (to use a celebrated naval commander's expression) a _vue de +poisson_ of his subject. By this time you must have heard enough of the +Louvre and the Tuilleries, and Versailles, and la petit Trianon, and St +Cloud--and you have had enough of pictures and statues; and you know all +that can be known of Bonaparte, by seeing him at a review or a levee; +and the fashionable beauties and _celebrated characters_ of the hour +have all passed and repassed through the magic lantern. A fresh showman +might make his figures a little more correct, or a little more in +laughable caricature, but he could produce nothing new. Alas! there is +nothing new under the sun. Nothing remains for the moderns, but to +practise the oldest follies and newest ways. Would you, for the sake of +your female friends, know the fashionable dress of a Parisian +_elegante_, see Seneca on the transparent vestments of the Roman ladies, +who, like these modern belles, were generous in the display of their +charms to the public. No doubt these French republicanists act upon the +true Spartan principle of modesty: they take the most efficacious method +to prevent their influence from being too great over the imaginations of +men, by renouncing all that insidious reserve which alone can render +even beauty permanently dangerous. + +Of the cruelties of the revolution I can tell you nothing new. The +public have been steeped up to the lips in blood, and have surely had +their fill of horrors. + +But, my dear friend, you say that I must be able to give a just view of +the present state of French society, and of the best parts of it, +because I have not, like some of my countrymen, hurried about Paris from +one _spectacle_ to another, seen the opera, and the play-houses, and the +masked balls, and the gaming-houses, and the women of the Palais Royale, +and the lions of all sorts; gone through the usual routine of +presentation and public dinners, drunk French wine, damned French +cookery, and "come home content." I have certainly endeavoured to employ +my time better, and have had the good fortune to be admitted into the +best _private societies_ in Paris. These were composed of the remains of +the French nobility, of men of letters and science, and of families, +who, without interfering in politics, devote themselves to domestic +duties, to literary and social pleasures. The happy hours I have passed +in this society can never be forgotten, and the kindness I have received +has made its full impression upon an honest English heart. I will never +disgrace the confidence of my friends by drawing their characters for +the public. + +Caesar, in all his glory, and all his despotism, could not, with +impunity, force a Roman knight[1] to go upon the stage: but modern +anecdote-mongers, more cruel and insolent than Caesar, force their +friends of all ages and sexes to appear, and speak, and act, for the +amusement or derision of the public. + +My dear friend, is not my resolution, never to favour the world with my +tour, well grounded? I hope that I have proved to your satisfaction, +that I could tell people nothing but what I do not understand, or what +is not worth telling them, or what has been told them a hundred times, +or what, as a gentleman, I am bound not to publish. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + +[Footnote 1: Laberius.] + + + + + Letter xi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Friendship, my amiable and interesting Gabrielle, is more an affair of +the heart than of the head, more the instinct of taste than the choice +of reason. With me the heart is no longer touched, when the imagination +ceases to be charmed. Explain to me this metaphysical phenomenon of my +nature, and, for your reward, I will quiet your jealousy, by confessing +without compunction what now weighs on my conscience terribly. I begin +to feel that I can never love this English friend as I ought. She is +_too English_--far too English for one who has known the charms of +French ease, vivacity, and sentiment; for one who has seen the +bewitching Gabrielle's infinite variety. + +Leonora has just the figure and face that you would picture to yourself +for _une belle Angloise_; and if our Milton comes into your memory, you +might repeat, for the quotation is not too trite for a foreigner-- + + "Grace is in all her steps, heaven in her eye, + In every gesture dignity and love." + +But then it is grace which says nothing, a heaven only for a husband, +the dignity more of a matron than of a heroine, and love that might have +suited Eve before she had seen this world. Leonora is certainly a +beauty; but then a beauty who does not know her power, and who, +consequently, can make no one else feel its full extent. She is not +unlike your beautiful Polish princess, but she has none of the charming +Anastasia's irresistible transitions from soft, silent languor, to +brilliant, eloquent enthusiasm. All the gestures and attitudes of +Anastasia are those of taste and sentiment, Leonora's are simply those +of nature. _La belle nature_, but not _le beau ideal_. With a figure +that would grace any court, or shine upon any stage, she usually enters +a room without producing, or thinking of producing, any sensation; she +moves often without seeming to have any other intention than to change +her place; and her fine eyes generally look as if they were made only to +see with. At times she certainly has a most expressive and intelligent +countenance. I have seen her face enlightened by the fire of genius, +and shaded by the exquisite touches of sensibility; but all this is +merely called forth by the occasion, and vanishes before it is noticed +by half the company. Indeed, the full radiance of her beauty or of her +wit seldom shines upon any one but her husband. The audience and +spectators are forgotten. Heavens! what a difference between the effect +which Leonora and Gabrielle produce! But, to do her justice, much of +this arises from the different _organization_ of French and English +society. In Paris the insipid details of domestic life are judiciously +kept behind the scenes, and women appear as heroines upon the stage, +with all the advantages of decoration, to listen to the language of +love, and to receive the homage of public admiration. In England, +gallantry is not yet _systematised_, and our sex look more to their +families than to what is called society for the happiness of existence. +And yet the affection of mothers for their children does not appear to +be so strong in the hearts of English as of French women. In England +ladies do not talk of the _sentiment of maternity_ with that elegance +and sensibility with which you expatiate upon it continually in +conversation. They literally are _des bonnes meres de famille_, not from +the impulse of sentiment, but merely from an early instilled sense of +duty, for which they deserve little credit. However, they devote their +lives to their children, and those who have the misfortune to be their +intimate friends are doomed to see them half the day, or all day long, +go through the part of the good mother in all its diurnal monotony of +lessons and caresses. All this may be vastly right--it is a pity it is +so tiresome. For my part I cannot conceive how persons of superior taste +and talents can submit to it, unless it be to make themselves a +reputation, and that you know is done by writing and talking on the +general principles, not by submitting to the minute details of +education. The great painter sketches the outline, and touches the +principal features, but leaves the subordinate drudgery of filling up +the parts, finishing the drapery, &c., to inferior hands. + +Upon recollection, in my favourite "Sorrows of Werter," the heroine is +represented cutting bread and butter for a group of children: I admire +this simplicity in Goethe; 'tis one of the secrets by which he touches +the heart. Simplicity is delightful by way of variety, but always +simplicity is worse than _toujours perdrix_. Children in a novel or a +drama are charming little creatures: but in real life they are often +insufferable plagues. What becomes of them in Paris I know not; but I am +sure that they are never in the way of one's conversations or reveries; +and it would be a blessing to society if English children were as +inaudible and invisible. These things strike me sensibly upon my return +to England, after so long an absence. Surely, by means of the machinery +of masters, and governesses, and schools, the manufacture of education +might be carried on without incommoding those who desire to see only the +finished production. Here I find the daughter of an English duke, a +woman in the first bloom of youth, of the highest pretensions in point +of rank, beauty, fashion, accomplishments, and talents, devoting herself +to the education of two children, orphans, left to her care by an elder +sister. To take charge of orphans is a good and fine action; as such it +touches me sensibly; but then where is the necessity of sacrificing +one's friends, and one's pleasures, day after day, and hour after hour, +to mere children? Leonora can persevere only from a notion of duty. Now, +in my opinion, when generosity becomes duty it ceases to be virtue. +Virtue requires free-will: duty implies constraint. Virtue acts from the +impulse of the moment, and never tires or is tired; duty drudges on in +consequence of reflection, and, weary herself, wearies all beholders. +Duty, always laborious, never can be graceful; and what is not graceful +in woman cannot be amiable--can it, my amiable Gabrielle? But I reproach +myself for all I have written. Leonora is my friend--besides, I am +really obliged to her, and for the universe would I not hint a thought +to her disadvantage. Indeed she is a most excellent, a faultless +character, and it is the misfortune of your Olivia not to love +perfection as she ought. + +My charming and interesting Gabrielle, I am more out of humour with +myself than you can conceive; for in spite of all that reason and +gratitude urge, I fear I cannot prefer the insipid virtues of Leonora to +the lively graces of Gabrielle. + +As to the cold husband, Mr L----, I neither know nor wish to know +anything of him; but I live in hopes of an agreeable and interesting +accession to our society to-day, from the arrival of Leonora's intimate +friend, a young widow, whose husband I understand was a man of a harsh +temper: she has gone through severe trials with surprising fortitude; +and though I do not know her history, I am persuaded it must be +interesting. Assuredly this husband could never have been the man of her +choice, and of course she must have had some secret unhappy attachment, +which doubtless preyed upon her spirits. Probably the object of her +affection, in despair at her marriage, plighted his faith unfortunately, +or possibly may have fallen a sacrifice to his constancy. I am all +impatience to see her. Her husband's name was so ruggedly English, that +I am sure you would never be able to pronounce it, especially if you +only saw it written; therefore I shall always to you call her Helen, a +name which is more pleasing to the ear, and more promising to the +imagination. I have not been able to prevail upon Leonora to describe +her friend to me exactly; she says only, that she loves Helen too well +to over-praise her beforehand. My busy fancy has, however, bodied forth +her form, and painted her in the most amiable and enchanting colours. +Hark! she is just arrived. Adieu. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xij. + + _From Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + * * * * * * + +Having now had the honour of spending nearly a week in the society of +the celebrated enchantress, Lady Olivia, you will naturally expect that +I should be much improved in the art of love: but before I come to my +improvements I must tell you, what will be rather more interesting, that +Leonora is perfectly well and happy, and that I have the dear delight of +exclaiming ten times an hour, "Ay, just as I thought it would be!--Just +such a wife, just such a mistress of a family I knew she would make." + +"_Not to admire_" is an art or a precept which I have not been able to +practise much since I came here. Some philosophers tell us that +admiration is not only a silly but a fatiguing state of mind; and I +suppose that nothing could have preserved my mind from being tired to +death but the quantity of bodily exercise which I have taken. I could if +I pleased give you a plan and elevation of this castle. Nay, I doubt not +but I could stand an examination in the catalogue of the pictures, or +the inventory of the furniture. + +You, Helen!--you who could not remember the colour of Lady N----'s +_new_ curtains after you had seen them at least a hundred times! + +Lady N---- was indifferent to me, and how could I hang up her curtains +in my memory? By what could they hold? Do you not know, Margaret. . . . +all the fine things that I could say, and that quartos have said before +me, about the association of ideas and sensations, &c.? Those we love +impart to uninteresting objects the power of pleasing, as the magnet can +communicate to inert metal its attractive influence. + +Till Mr L---- was Leonora's lover I never liked him much. I do not mean +to call him inert. I always knew that he had many excellent qualities; +but there was nothing in his temper peculiarly agreeable to me, and +there was something in his character that I did not thoroughly +understand; yet since he is become Leonora's husband I find my +understanding much improved, and I dare say it will soon be so far +enlarged, that I shall comprehend him perfectly. + +Leonora has almost persuaded me to like Lady Olivia. Not to laugh at her +would be impossible. I wish you could see the way in which we go on +together. Our first setting out would have diverted you. Enter Lady +Olivia breathless, with an air of theatric expectation--advances to +embrace Helen, who is laughing with Leonora--her back turned towards the +side of the stage at which Olivia enters--Olivia pauses suddenly, and +measures Helen _with a long look_. What passes in Lady Olivia's mind at +this moment I do not know, but I guess that she was disappointed wofully +by my appearance. After some time she was recovered, by Leonora's +assistance, from her reverie, and presently began to admire my vivacity, +and to find out that I was Clarissa's Miss Howe--no, I was Lady G.--no, +I was Heloise's Clara: but I, choosing to be myself, and insisting upon +being an _original_, sunk again visibly and rapidly in Olivia's opinion, +till I was in imminent danger of being _nobody_. Leonora again kindly +interposed to save me from annihilation; and after an interval of an +hour or two dedicated to letter-writing, Lady Olivia returned and seated +herself beside me, resolved to decide what manner of woman I was. +Certain novels are the touchstones of feeling and _intellect_ with +certain ladies. Unluckily I was not well read in these; and in the +questions put to me from these sentimental statute-books, I gave strange +judgments, often for the husband or parents against the heroine. I did +not even admit the plea of destiny, irresistible passion, or +_entrainement_, as in all cases sufficient excuse for all errors and +crimes. Moreover, I excited astonishment by calling things by obsolete +names. I called a married woman's having a lover _a crime_! Then I was +no judge of virtues, for I thought a wife's making an intimate friend of +her husband's mistress was scandalous and mean; but this I was told is +the height of delicacy and generosity. I could not perceive the +propriety of a man's liking two women at the same time, or a woman's +having a platonic attachment for half a dozen lovers; and I owned that I +did not wish divorce could be as easily obtained in England as in +France. All which proved that I have never been out of England--a great +misfortune! I dare say it will soon be discovered that women as well as +madeira cannot be good for anything till they have crossed the line. But +beside the obloquy of having lived only in the best company in England, +I was further disgraced by the discovery, that I am deplorably ignorant +of metaphysics, and have never been enlightened by any philanthropic +transcendental foreign professor of humanity. Profoundly humiliated, and +not having yet taken the first step towards knowledge, the knowing that +I was ignorant, I was pondering upon my sad fate, when Lady Olivia, +putting her hand upon my shoulder, summoned me into the court of love, +there in my own proper person to answer such questions as it should +please her ladyship to ask. For instance:--"Were you ever in love?--How +often?--When?--Where?--And with whom?" + +Never having stood a cross-examination in public upon these points, I +was not quite prepared to reply; and I was accused of giving evasive +answers, and convicted of blushing. Mr L----, who was present at this +examination, enjoyed, in his grave way, my astonishment and confusion, +but said not one word. I rallied my spirits and my wits, and gave some +answers which gained the smile of the court on my side. + +From these specimens you may guess, my dear Margaret, how well this lady +and I are likely to agree. I shall divert myself with her absurdities +without scruple. Yet notwithstanding the flagrancy of these, Leonora +persuades me to think well of Olivia; indeed I am so happy here, that it +would be a difficult matter at present to make me think ill of anybody. +The good qualities which Leonora sees in her are not yet visible to my +eyes; but Leonora's visual orb is so cleared with charity and love, that +she can discern what is not revealed to vulgar sight. Even in the very +germ she discovers the minute form of the perfect flower. _The Olivia_ +will, I hope, in time blow out in full perfection. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xiij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + Monday. + +O my Gabrielle! this Helen is not precisely the person that I expected. +Instead of being a dejected beauty, she is all life and gaiety. + +I own I should like her better if she were a little more pensive; a +tinge of melancholy would, in her situation, be so becoming and natural. +My imagination was quite disappointed when I beheld the quickness of her +eyes and frequency of her smiles. Even her mode of showing affection to +Leonora was not such as could please me. This is the first visit, I +understand, that she has paid Leonora since her marriage:--these friends +have been separated for many months.--I was not present at their +meeting; but I came into the room a few minutes after _Helen's_ arrival, +and I should have thought that they had seen one another but yesterday. +This _dear Helen_ was quite at ease and at home in a few moments, and +seemed as if she had been living with us for years. I make allowance for +the ease of well-bred people. Helen has lived much in the world, and has +polished manners. But the heart--the heart is superior to politeness; +and even ease, in some situations, shows a want of the delicate _tact_ +of sentiment. In a similar situation I should have been silent, +entranced, absorbed, in my sensations--overcome by them, +perhaps--dissolved in tears. But in Helen there appeared no symptoms of +real sensibility--nothing characteristic--nothing profound--nothing +concentrated: it was all superficial, and evaporated in the common way. +I was provoked to see Leonora satisfied. She assures me that Helen has +uncommonly strong affections, and that her character rather exceeds than +is deficient in enthusiasm. Possibly; but I am certain that Helen is in +no danger of becoming romantic. Far from being abstracted, I never saw +any one seem more interested and eager about every present +occurrence--pleased, even to childishness, with every passing trifle. I +confess that she is too much of this world for me. But I will if +possible suspend my judgment, and study her a few hours longer before I +give you my definitive opinion. + + + * * * * * + + Thursday. + +Well, my Gabrielle, my _definitive opinion_ is that I can never love +this friend of Leonora. I said that she had lived much in the world--but +only in the English world: she has never seen any other; therefore, +though quite in a different style from Leonora, she shocks me with the +same nationality. All her ideas are exclusively English: she has what is +called English good sense, and English humour, and English prejudices of +_all sorts_, both masculine and feminine. She takes fire in defence of +her country and of her sex; nay, sometimes blushes even to awkwardness, +which one would not expect in the midst of her good breeding and +vivacity. What a difference between her vivacity and that of my charming +Gabrielle! as great as between the enlargement of your mind and the +limited nature of her understanding. I tried her on various subjects, +but found her intrenched in her own contracted notions. All new, or +liberal, or sublime ideas in morality or metaphysics she either cannot +seize, or seizes only to place in a ridiculous point of view: a certain +sign of mediocrity. Adieu, my Gabrielle. I must send you the pictures, +whether engaging or forbidding, of those with whom your Olivia is +destined to pass her time. When I have no events to relate, still I must +write to convey to you my sentiments. Alas! how imperfectly!--for I have +interdicted myself the expression of those most interesting to my +heart. Leonora, calmly prudent, coolly virtuous, knows not what it costs +me to be faithful to this cruel promise. Write to me, my sympathizing, +my tender friend! + + Your ever unhappy + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xiv. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + July 10th. + +Some very good people, like some very fine pictures, are best at a +distance. But Leonora is not one of these: the nearer you approach the +better you like her, as in arabesque-work you may admire the beauty of +the design even at a distance, but you cannot appreciate the delicacy of +the execution till you examine it closely, and discover that every line +is formed of grains of gold almost imperceptibly fine. I am glad that +the "small sweet courtesies of life" have been hailed by one sentimental +writer at least. The minor virtues are not to be despised even in +comparison with the most exalted. The common rose, I have often thought, +need not be ashamed of itself even in company with the finest exotics in +a hothouse; and I remember, that your brother, in one of his letters, +observed, that the common cock makes a very respectable figure even in +the grand Parisian assembly of all the stuffed birds and beasts in the +universe. It is a glorious thing to have a friend who will jump into a +river, or down a precipice, to save one's life: but as I do not intend +to tumble down precipices, or to throw myself into the water above half +a dozen times, I would rather have for my friends persons who would not +reserve their kindness wholly for these grand occasions, but who could +condescend to make me happy every day, and all day long, even by +actions not sufficiently sublime to be recorded in history or romance. + +Do not infer from this that I think Leonora would hesitate to make +_great_ sacrifices. I have had sufficient experience of her fortitude +and active courage of mind in the most trying circumstances, whilst many +who talked more stoutly shrunk from _committing_ themselves by actions. + +Some maxim-maker says, that past misfortunes are good for nothing but to +be forgotten. I am not of his opinion: I think that they are good to +make us know our winter from our summer friends, and to make us feel for +those who have sustained us in adversity that most pleasurable sensation +of human mind--gratitude. + +But I am straying unawares into the province of sentiment, where I am +such a stranger that I shall inevitably lose my way, especially as I am +too proud to take a guide. Lady Olivia **** may perhaps be very fond of +Leonora: and as she has every possible cause to be so, it is but +reasonable and charitable to suppose that she is: but I should never +guess it by her manner. She speaks of her friendship sometimes in the +most romantic style, but often makes observations upon _the enviable +coolness and imperturbability of Leonora's disposition_, which convinces +me that she does not understand it in the least. Those who do not really +feel always pitch their expressions too high or too low, as deaf people +bellow or speak in a whisper. But I may be mistaken in my suspicions of +Olivia; for _to do the lady justice_, as Mrs Candour would say, she is +so affected that it is difficult to know what she really feels. Those +who put on rouge occasionally are suspected of wearing it constantly, +and never have any credit for their natural colour; presently they +become so accustomed to common rouge, that mistaking scarlet for pale +pink, they persist in laying on more and more, till they are like +nothing human. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +I have found it! I have found it! dear Gabrielle, rejoice with me! I +have solved the metaphysical problem, which perplexed me so cruelly, and +now I am once more at peace with myself. I have discovered the reason +why I cannot love Leonora as she merits to be loved--she has obliged me; +and the nature of obligation is such, that it supposes superiority on +one side, and consequently destroys the equality, the freedom, the ease, +the charm of friendship. Gratitude weighs upon one's heart in proportion +to the delicacy of its feelings. To minds of an ordinary sort it may be +pleasurable, for with them it is sufficiently feeble to be calm; but in +souls of a superior cast, it is a poignant, painful sensation, because +it is too strong ever to be tranquil. In short-- + + "'Tis bliss but to a certain bound-- + Beyond, 'tis agony." + +For my own part, the very dread that I shall not be thought to express +enough deprives me of the power to speak, or even to feel. Fear, you +know, extinguishes affection; and of all fears the dread of not being +sufficiently grateful operates the most powerfully. Thus sensibility +destroys itself.--Gracious Heaven! teach me to moderate mine. + +In the nature of the obligation with which Leonora has oppressed my +heart, there is something peculiarly humiliating. Upon my return to this +country I found the malignant genius of scandal bent upon destroying my +reputation. You have no idea of the miserable force of prejudice which +still prevails here. There are some women who emancipate themselves, but +then unluckily they are not in sufficient numbers to keep each other in +countenance in public. One would not choose to be confined to the +society of people who cannot go to court, though sometimes they take the +lead elsewhere. We are full half a century behind you in civilization; +and your revolution has, I find, afforded all our stiffened moralists +_incontrovertible_ arguments against liberty of opinion or conduct in +either sex. + +I was thunderstruck when I saw the grave and repulsive faces of all my +female acquaintance. At first I attributed everything that was strange +and disagreeable to English reserve, of which I had retained a +sufficiently formidable idea: but I presently found that there was some +other cause which kept all these nice consciences at a distance from my +atmosphere. + +Would you believe it, I saw myself upon the point of being quite +excluded from good society. Leonora saved me from this imminent danger. +Voluntarily, and I must say nobly, if not gracefully, Leonora came +forward in my defence. Vanquishing her natural English timidity, she +braved the eyes, and tongues, and advice of all the prudes and old +dowagers my enemies, amongst whom I may count the superannuated duchess +her mother, the proudest dowager now living. When I appeared in public +with a personage of Leonora's unblemished reputation, scandal, much +against her will, was forced to be silent, and it was to be taken for +granted that I was, in the language of prudery, perfectly innocent. +Leonora, to be consistent in goodness, or to complete her triumph in the +face of the world, invited me to accompany her to the country.----I have +now been some weeks at this superb castle. Heaven is my witness that I +came with a heart overflowing with affection; but the painful, the +agonizing sense of humiliation mixed with my tenderest sentiments, and +all became bitterness insufferable. O Gabrielle! you, and perhaps you +alone upon earth, can understand my feelings. Adieu!--pity me--I must +not ask you a single question about----I must not write the name for +ever dear--What am I saying? where are my promises?--Adieu!--Adieu! + + Your unhappy + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xvi. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + July 16th. + +As I have never thought it my duty in this mortal life to mourn for the +absurdities of my fellow-creatures, I should now enjoy the pleasure of +laughing at Lady Olivia, if my propensity were not checked by a serious +apprehension that she will injure Leonora's happiness. From the most +generous motives dear Leonora is continually anxious to soothe her mind, +to persuade and reason her into common sense, to re-establish her in +public opinion, and to make her happy. But I am convinced that Lady +Olivia never will have common sense, and consequently never can be +happy. Twenty times a day I wish her at the antipodes, for I dread lest +Leonora should be implicated in her affairs, and involved in her misery. + +Last night this foolish woman, who unluckily is graced with all the +power of words, poured forth a fine declamation in favour of divorce. In +vain Leonora reasoned, expostulated, blushed. Lady Olivia cannot blush +for herself; and though both Mr L---- and I were present, she persisted +with that vehemence which betrays personal interest in an argument. I +suspect that she is going to try to obtain a divorce from her husband, +that she may marry her lover. Consider the consequences of this for +Leonora.--Leonora to be the friend of a woman who will brave the infamy +of a trial at Doctors' Commons! But Leonora says I am mistaken, and that +all this is only Olivia's way of talking. I wish then, that, if she does +not intend to act like a fool, she would not talk like one. I agree with +the gentleman who said that a woman who begins by playing the fool, +always ends by playing the devil. Even before me, though I certainly +never solicit her confidence, Lady Olivia talks with the most imprudent +openness of her love affairs; not, I think, from ingenuousness, but from +inability to restrain herself. Begin what subject of conversation I +will, as far from Cupid as possible, she will bring me back again to him +before I know where I am. She has no ideas but on this one subject. +Leonora, dear kind-hearted Leonora, attributes this to the temporary +influence of a violent passion, which she assures me Olivia will +conquer, and that then all her great and good qualities will, as if +freed from enchantment, re-assume their natural vigour. +_Natural!_--there is nothing natural about this sophisticated lady. I +wish Leonora would think more of herself and less of other people. As to +Lady Olivia's excessive sensibility, I have no faith in it. I do not +think either the lover or the passion so much to be feared for her, as +the want of a lover and the habit of thinking that it is necessary to be +in love. * * * * * * * * * + + Yours affectionately, + _Helen C----._ + + + + + Letter xvij. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Paris, Hotel de Courlande. + + My dear L----, + +When you ask a countryman in England the way to the next town, he +replies, "Where do you come from, master?" and till you have answered +this question, no information can you obtain from him. You ask me what I +know of Lady Olivia ----. What is your reason for asking? Till you have +answered this question, hope for no information from me. Seriously, Lady +Olivia had left Paris before I arrived, therefore you cannot have my +judgment of her ladyship, which I presume is all you could depend upon. +If you will take hearsay evidence, and if you wish me to speak to +general character, I can readily satisfy you. Common repute is loud and +unanimous in favour of her talents, beauty, and fashion: there is no +resisting, I am told, the fascination of her manners and conversation; +_but_ her opinions are fashionably liberal, and her practice as liberal +as her theories. Since her separation from her husband, her lover is +publicly named. Some English friends plead in her favour platonic +attachment: this, like benefit of clergy, is claimed of course for a +first offence: but Lady Olivia's Parisian acquaintance are not so +scrupulous or so old-fashioned as to think it an offence; they call it +an _arrangement_, and to this there can be no objection. As a French +gentleman said to me the other day, with an unanswerable shrug, "Tout le +monde sait que R*** est son amant; d'ailleurs, c'est la femme la plus +aimable du monde." + +As to Lady Olivia's friend, Mad. de P----, she sees a great deal of +company: her house is the resort of people of various descriptions; +ministers, foreigners, coquettes, and generals; in short, of all those +who wish without scandal or suspicion to intrigue either in love or +politics. Her assemblies are also frequented by a few of _l'ancien +regime_, who wish to be in favour with the present government. Mad. de +P----, of a noble family herself, and formerly much at court, has +managed matters so as to have regained all her husband's confiscated +property, and to have acquired much influence with some of the leading +men of the day. In her manners and conversation there is an odd mixture +of frivolity and address, of the airs of coquetry and the jargon of +sentiment. She has the politeness of a French countess, with _exquisite_ +knowledge of the world and of _les convenances_, joined to that freedom +of opinion which marks the present times. In the midst of all these +inconsistencies, it is difficult to guess what her real character may +be. At first sight, I should pronounce her to be a silly woman, governed +by vanity and the whim of the moment: but those who know her better than +I do believe her to be a woman of considerable talents, inordinately +fond of power, and uniformly intent upon her own interest, using +coquetry only as a means to govern our sex, and frivolity as a mask for +her ambition. In short, Mad. de P---- is a perfect specimen of the +combination of an _intrigante_ and an _elegante_, a combination often +found in Paris. Here women mingle politics and gallantry--men mix +politics and epicurism--which is the better mixture? + +I have business of importance to my country to transact to-day, +_therefore_ I am going to dine with the modern Apicius. Excuse me, my +dear friend, if I cannot stay at present to answer your questions about +divorce. I must be punctual. What sort of a negociator can he make who +is too late at a minister's dinner? Five minutes might change the face +of Europe. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xviij. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +My incomparable Olivia! your letters are absolutely divine. I am +_maussade_, I _vegetate_. I cannot be said to live the days when I do +not hear from you. Last Thursday I was disappointed of one of these dear +letters, and _Brave-et-tendre_ told me frankly that I was so little +amiable he should not have known me.--As to the rest, pardon me for not +writing punctually: I have been really in a chaos of business and +pleasure, and I do not know which fatigues most. But I am obliged to +attend the ministers every day, for the sake of my friends. + +A thousand and a thousand thanks for your pictures of your English +friends: sketches by a masterly hand must be valuable, whatever the +subject. I would rather have the pictures than the realities. Your Helen +and your Lady Leonora are too good for me, and I pity you from my soul +for being shut up in that old castle. I suppose it is like an old castle +in Dauphiny, where I once spent a week, and where I was nearly +frightened to death by the flapping of the old tapestry behind my bed, +and by the bats which flew in through the broken windows. They say, +however, that our _chateaux_ and yours are something different. Of this +I have no clear conception. + +I send you three comforters in your prison--a billet-doux, a new novel, +and a pattern of my sandal: a billet-doux from R*** says everything for +itself; but I must say something for the new novel. Zenobie, which I now +send you, is the declared rival of Seraphine. Parties have run high on +both sides, and applications were made and inuendoes discovered, and wit +and sentiment came to close combat; and, as usual, people talked till +they did not understand themselves. For a fortnight, wherever one went +the first words to be heard on entering every _salon_ were Seraphine and +Zenobie.--Peace or war.--Mlle. Georges and Mlle. Duchesnois were +nothing to Seraphine and Zenobie. For Heaven's sake tell me which you +prefer! But I fear they will be no more talked of before I have your +answer. To say the truth, I am tired of both heroines, for a fortnight +is too long to talk or think of any one thing. + +I flatter myself you will like my sandals: they are my own invention, +and my foot really shows them to advantage. You know I might say, as Du +P*** said of himself, "J'ai un pied dont la petitesse echappe a la +vitesse de la pensee." I thought my poor friend Mad. Dumarais would have +died with envy, the other day, when I appeared in them at her ball, +which, by the by, was in all its decorations as absurd and in as bad +taste as usual. For the most part these _nouveaux riches_ lavish money, +but can never purchase taste or a sense of propriety. All is gold: but +that is not enough; or rather that is too much.--In spite of all that +both the Indies, China, Arabia, Egypt, and even Paris can do for them, +they will be ever out of place, in the midst of their magnificence: they +will never even know how to ruin themselves nobly. They must live and +die as they were born, ridiculous. Now I would rather not exist than +feel myself ridiculous. But I believe no one living, not even le petit +d'Heronville, knows himself to be an object of ridicule. There are no +looking-glasses for the mind, and I question whether we should use them +if there were. D'Heronville is just as you left him, and as much my +amusement as he used to be yours. He goes on with an eternal galimatias +of patriotism, with such a self-sufficient air and decided tone! never +suspecting that he says only what other people make him say, and that he +is listened to, only to find out what _some people_ think. Many will say +before fools what they would not hazard before wise men; not considering +that fools can repeat as well as parrots. I once heard a great man +remark that the only spies fit to be trusted are those who do not know +themselves to be such, who have no salary but what their vanity pays +them, and who are employed without being accredited. + +But treve de politique!--My charming Olivia, I know, abhors politics as +much as I detest metaphysics, from all lips or pens but hers. Now I must +tell you something of your friends here. + +O---- talks nonsense as agreeably as ever, and dances as divinely. 'Tis +a pity he cannot always dance, for then he would not ruin himself at +play. He wants me to get him a regiment--as if I had any power!--or as +if I would use it for this purpose, when I know that my interesting +friend Mad. Q---- would break her poor little heart if he were to quit +her. + +_Mon Coeur_ is as pretty as ever; but she is now in affliction. She has +lost her dear little dog Corisonde. He died suddenly; almost in her +arms! She will erect a monument to him in her charming _jardin Anglois_. +This will occupy her, and then "Time, the comforter"--Inimitable +Voltaire! + +Our dear _Brillante_ has just had a superb _hommage_ from her lover the +commissary--a necklace and bracelets of the finest pearls: but she +cannot wear them yet: her brother having died last week, she is in deep +mourning. This brother was not upon good terms with her. He never +forgave the divorce. He thought it a disgrace to have a sister _une +divorcee_; but he was full of prejudice, poor man, and he is dead, and +we need think no more of him or of his faults. + +Our ci-devant chanoine, who married that little Meudon, is as miserable +as possible, and as ridiculous: for he is jealous of his young wife, and +she is a _franche-coquette_. The poor man looks as if he repented +sincerely of his errors. What a penitent a coquette can make of a +husband! Bourdaloue and Massillon would have tried their powers on this +man's heart in vain. + +Did I tell you that Mad. G---- is a second time divorced? But this time +it is her husband's doing, not hers. This handsome husband has spent all +the immense fortune she brought him, and now procures a divorce for +_incompatibility of temper_, and is going to marry another lady, richer +than Mad. G----, and as great a fool. This system of divorce, though +convenient, is not always advantageous to women. However, in one point +of view, I wonder that the rigid moralists do not defend it, as the only +means of making a man in love with his own wife. A man divorces; the law +does not permit him to marry the same woman afterwards; of course this +prohibition makes him fall in love with her. Of this we have many +edifying examples besides Fanchette, who, though she was so beautiful, +and a tolerable actress, would never have drawn all Paris to the +Vaudeville if she had not been a _divorcee_, and if it had not been +known that her husband, who played the lover of the piece, was dying to +marry her again. Apropos, Mad. St Germain is acting one of her own +romances, in the high sublime style, and threatens to poison herself for +love of her perjured inconstant--but it will not do. + +Madame _la Grande_ was near having a sad accident the other night: in +crossing the Pont-neuf her horses took fright; for there was a crowd and +_embarras_, a man having just drowned himself--not for love, but for +hunger. How many men, women, and children, do you think, drowned +themselves in the Seine last year? Upwards of two hundred. This is +really shocking, and a stop should be put to it by authority. It +absolutely makes me shudder and reflect; but _apres nous le deluge_ was +La Pompadour's maxim, and should be ours. + +Mad. Folard _se coiffe en cheveux_, and Mad. Rocroix crowns herself with +roses, whilst all the world knows that either of them is old enough to +be my mother. In former days a woman could not wear flowers after +thirty, and was _bel esprit_ or _devote_ at forty, for it was thought +bad taste to do otherwise. But now everybody may be as young as they +please, or as ridiculous. Women have certainly gained by the new order +of things. + +Our poor friend _Vermeille_ se meurt de la poitrine--a victim to tea and +late hours. She is an interesting creature, and my heart bleeds for her: +she will never last till winter. + +Do you know, it is said, we shall soon have no wood to burn. What can +have become of all our forests? People should inquire after them. The +Venus de Medicis has at last found her way down the Seine. It is not +determined yet where to place her: but she is at Paris, and that is a +great point gained for her. You complained that the Apollo stands with +his back so near the wall, that there is no seeing half the beauties of +his shoulders. If I have any influence, Venus shall not be so served. I +have been to see her. She is certainly divine--but not French. I do not +despair of seeing her surpassed by our artists. + +Adieu, my adorable Olivia. I should have finished my letter yesterday; +but when I came home in the morning, expecting to have a moment sacred +to you and friendship, who should I find established in an arm-chair in +my cabinet but our old countess _Ci-devant_. There was no retreat for +me. In the midst of my concentrated rage I was obliged to advance and +embrace her, and there was an end of happiness for the day. The pitiless +woman kept me till it was even too late to dress, talking over her +family misfortunes; as if they were anything to me. She wants to get her +son employed, but her pride will not let her pay her court properly, and +she wants me to do it for her. Not I, truly. I should shut my doors +against her but for the sake of her nephew _le roue_, who is really a +pretty young man. My angel, I embrace you tenderly. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter xix. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +How melancholy to a feeling heart is the moment when illusion vanishes, +whether that illusion has been created by the magic of love or of +friendship! How many such moments, Gabrielle, has your unfortunate +friend been doomed to endure! Alas! when will treacherous fancy cease to +throw a deceitful brilliancy upon each new object! + +Perhaps I am too delicate--but R***'s note, enclosed in your last, my +Gabrielle, was unlike his former letters. It was not passionate, it was +only reasonable. A man who can reason is no longer in love. The manner +in which he speaks of divorce shocked me beyond expression. Is it for +him to talk of scruples when upon this subject I have none? I own to you +that my pride and my tenderness are sensibly wounded. Is it for him to +convince me that I am in the wrong? I shall not be at ease till I hear +from you again, my amiable friend: for my residence here becomes +insupportable. But a few short weeks are past since I fancied Leonora an +angel, and now she falls below the ordinary standard of mortals. But a +few short weeks are past since, in the full confidence of finding in +Leonora a second self, a second Gabrielle, I eagerly developed to her my +inmost soul; yet now my heart closes, I fear never more to open. The sad +conviction, that we have but few ideas, and no feelings in common, stops +my tongue when I attempt to speak, chills my heart when I begin to +listen. + +Do you know, my Gabrielle, I have discovered that Leonora is +inordinately selfish? For all other faults I have charity; but +selfishness, which has none to give, must expect none. O divine +sensibility, defend me from this isolation of the heart! All thy +nameless sorrows, all thy heart-rending tortures, would I a thousand +times rather endure. Leonora's selfishness breaks out perpetually; and, +alas! it is of the most inveterate, incurable kind: everything that is +immediately or remotely connected with self she loves, and loves with +the most provoking pertinacity. Her mother, her husband, she adores, +because they are her own; and even her sister's children, because she +considers them, she says, as her own. All and every possible portion of +self she cherishes with the most sordid partiality. All that touches +these relations touches her; and everything which is theirs, or, in +other words, which is hers, she deems excellent and sacred. Last night I +just hazarded a word of ridicule upon some of the obsolete prejudices of +that august personage, that duchess of old tapestry, her still living +ancestor. I wish, Gabrielle, you had seen Leonora's countenance. Her +colour rose up to her temples, her eyes lightened with indignation, and +her whole person assumed a dignity, which might have killed a +presumptuous lover, or, better far, might have enslaved him for life. +What folly to waste all this upon such an occasion. But selfishness is +ever blind to its real interests. Leonora is so bigoted to this old +woman, that she is already in mind an old woman herself. She fancies +that she traces a resemblance to her mother, and of course to dear self, +in her infant, and she looks upon it with such doting eyes, and talks to +it with such exquisite tones of fondness, as are to me, who know the +source from which they proceed, quite ridiculous and disgusting. An +infant, who has no imaginable merit, and, to impartial eyes, no charms, +she can love to this excess from no motive but pure _egotism_. Then her +husband--but this subject I must reserve for another letter. I am +summoned to walk with him this moment. + +Adieu, charming Gabrielle. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xx. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Paris, 180--. + + My dear L----, + +Enclosed I send you, according to your earnest desire, Cambaceres' +reflections upon the intended new law of divorce. Give me leave to ask +why you are so violently interested upon this occasion? Do you envy +France this blessing? Do you wish that English husbands and wives should +have the power of divorcing each other at pleasure for _incompatibility +of temper_? And have you calculated the admirable effect this would +produce upon the temper both of the weaker and the stronger sex? To bear +and forbear would then be no longer necessary. Every happy pair might +quarrel and part at a moment's notice--at a year's notice at most. And +their children? The wisdom of Solomon would be necessary to settle the +just division of the children. I have this morning been attending a +court of law to hear a famous trial between two husbands: the abdicated +lord a ci-devant noble, and the reigning husband a ci-devant +grand-vicaire, who has _reformed_. Each party claimed a right to the +children by the first marriage, for the children were minors entitled to +large fortunes. The _reformed_ grand-vicaire pleaded his own cause with +astonishing assurance, amidst the discountenancing looks, murmurs, and +almost amidst the groans of disapprobation from the majority of the +auditors. His powers of impudence, however, failed him at last. I sat on +the bench behind him, and saw that his ears had the grace to blush. +After another hearing, this cause, which had lasted four years, was +decided: and the first husband and real father was permitted to have the +guardianship of his own children. During the four years' litigation, the +friends of the parties, from the grandmother downwards, were all at +irreconcileable variance. What became of the children all this time? +Their mother was represented during the trial as she deserved to be, as +a wretch void of shame and gratitude. The father was universally pitied, +though his rival painted him as a coward, who during the revolution had +left his children to save himself by flight; and as a fool, who had left +his wife to the care of a profligate grand-vicaire. Divorce is not +countenanced by opinion in Paris, though permitted by law. With a few +exceptions in extraordinary cases, I have observed that _les divorcees_ +are not received into good society. + +To satiate your curiosity, I send you all the papers that have been +written lately on this subject, of which you will find that of +Cambaceres the best. The wits say that he is an impartial judge. I +presume you want these pamphlets for some foolish friend; for yourself +you can never want them, blessed as you are with such a wife as Lady +Leonora L----. I am not surprised that profligate men should wish for +freedom of divorce, because it would save them damages in Doctors' +Commons: but you rather astonish me--if a wise man should be astonished +at anything in these days--by assuring me that you have lately heard +this system eloquently defended by a female philosopher. What can women +expect from it but contempt? Next to polygamy, it would prove the most +certain method of destroying the domestic happiness of the sex, as well +as their influence and respectability in society. But some of the dear +creatures love to talk of what they do not understand, and usually show +their eloquence to the greatest advantage, by taking the wrong side of a +question. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + Letter xxi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +From selfishness to jealousy there is but one step, or rather there is +none; for jealousy of a certain sort is but selfishness in another form. +How different this passion as I have felt it, and as I see it shown! In +some characters it is the symptom of amiable and exquisite sensibility; +in others of odious coldness and contraction of heart. In some of our +sex it is, you know, my Gabrielle, a delicate fear, a tender anxiety, a +proof of ardent passion; in others it is a mere love of power, a +disgusting struggle for the property of a heart, an absurd assertion of +rights and prerogatives. Surely no prejudice of education or institution +can be more barbarous than that which teaches a wife that she has an +indefeasible and exclusive right both to the affections and the fidelity +of her husband. I am astonished to hear it avowed by any woman who has +the slightest pretensions to delicacy of sentiment, or liberality of +mind. I should expect to find this vulgar prejudice only among the +downright dames, who talk of _my good man_, and lay a particular +emphasis on the possessive pronoun _my_; who understand literally, and +expect that their spouses should adhere punctually to every coarse +article of our strange marriage vow. + +In certain points of view, my Gabrielle, jealousy is undoubtedly the +strongest proof of an indelicate mind. Yet, if I mistake not, the +delicate, the divine Leonora, is liable to this terrestrial passion. +Yesterday evening, as I was returning from a _stroll_ in the park with +Mr L----, we met Leonora; and methought she looked embarrassed at +meeting us. Heaven knows there was not the slightest occasion for +embarrassment, and I could not avoid being surprised at such weakness, I +had almost said folly, in a woman of Leonora's sense, especially as she +knows how my heart is attached. In the first moments of our intimacy my +confidence was unbounded, as it ever is in those I love. Aware as I was +of the light in which the prejudices of her education and her country +make her view such connexions, yet I scrupled not, with the utmost +candour, to confess the unfortunate attachment which had ruled my +destiny. After this confidence, do not suspicion and jealousy on her +part appear strange? Were Mr L---- and I shut up for life in the same +prison, were we left together upon a desert island, were we alone in the +universe, I could never think of him. And Leonora does not see this! How +the passions obscure and degrade the finest understandings. But perhaps +I do her injustice, and she felt nothing of what her countenance +expressed. It is certain, however, that she was silent for some moments +after she joined us, from what cause she knows best--so was Mr L----, I +suppose from English awkwardness--so was I, from pure astonishment. At +length, in pity of Leonora, I broke the silence. I had recourse to the +beauties of nature. + +"What a heavenly evening!" said I. "We have been listening to the song +of the birds, enjoying this fresh breeze of nature's perfumes." Leonora +said something about the superiority of nature's perfumes to those of +art; and observed, "how much more agreeable the smell of flowers appears +in the open air than in confined rooms." Whilst she spoke she looked at +her husband, as she continually does, for assent and approbation. He +assented, but apparently without knowing what he was saying; and only by +one of his English monosyllables. I alone was at ease. + +"Can anything be more beautiful," continued I, looking back, "than the +soft mellow foliage of those woods, and the exquisite tints of their +rich colouring? What delicious melancholy such an evening spreads over +the heart!--what reflections!--what recollections!--O Leonora, look at +the lights upon that mountain, and the deep shadows upon the lake below. +Just such scenes have I admired, by such have I been entranced in +Switzerland." + +Leonora put her arm within mine--she seemed to have no objection to my +thoughts going back to Switzerland--I sighed--she pressed my hand +affectionately--I wiped the starting tear from my eye. Mr L---- looked +at me with something like surprise whilst I repeated involuntarily-- + + "I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you, + For morn is approaching your charms to restore, + Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew." + +I paused, recollecting myself, struck with _the ridicule_ of repeating +verses, and of indulging feelings in which no one perhaps sympathized. + +"Those are beautiful lines," said Leonora: "that poem has always been a +favourite of mine." + +"And of mine, also," said Mr L----. + +"I prefer Beattie's Hermit to all other hermits," said Leonora. + +I was not in a mood calmly to discuss with her a point of criticism--I +walked on in reverie: but in this I was not allowed to indulge. Mr L---- +asked if I could not recollect some more of the Hermit--I pleaded the +worst memory in the world--a memory that can never recollect any poem +perfectly by rote, only the touches of genius or sensibility that strike +me--and those are so few! + +"But in this poem there are so many," said Leonora. I am sure she +insisted only to please her husband, and pleaded against her real +feelings purposely to conceal them. He persisted in his request, with +more warmth than usual. I was compelled to rouse myself from my reverie, +and to call back my distant thoughts. I repeated all that I could +recollect of the poem. Mr L---- paid me a profusion of compliments upon +the sweetness of my voice, and my taste in reciting. He was pleased to +find that my manner and tones gave an Italian expression to English +poetry, which to him was a peculiar charm. It reminded him of some +signora, whom he had known at Florence. This was the first time I had +learned that he had been abroad. I was going to explore the foreign +field of conversation which he thus opened; but just at that moment +Leonora withdrew her arm from mine, and I fancied that she coloured. +This might be only my fancy, or the natural effect of her stooping to +gather a flower. We were now within sight of the castle. I pointed to +one of the turrets over a Gothic window, upon which the gleams of the +setting sun produced a picturesque effect; my glove happened to be off, +and Leonora unluckily saw that her husband's eyes were fixed upon my +arm, instead of the turret to which I was pointing. 'Twas a trifle which +I never should have noticed, had she not forced it upon my attention. +She actually turned pale. I had the presence of mind not to put on my +glove. + +I must observe more accurately; I must decide whether this angelic +Leonora is or is not susceptible of the mortal passion ycleped jealousy. +I confess my curiosity is awakened. + +Adieu, my ever amiable Gabrielle. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +When the passions are asleep we are apt to fancy they are dead. I verily +thought that curiosity was dead within me, it had lain so long dormant +while stronger and tenderer sentiments waked in full activity; but now +that absence and distance from their object lull them to temporary +repose, the vulgar subordinate passions are roused, and take their turn +to reign. My curiosity was so strongly excited upon the subject of +Leonora's jealousy, that I could not rest, without attempting to obtain +satisfaction. Blame me not, dearest Gabrielle, for in my situation you +would inevitably have done the same, only that you would have done it +with more address; with that peculiar, inimitable address, which I envy +above all your accomplishments. But address is a delicate native of +France, and though it may now and then exist as a stranger, I doubt +whether it can ever be naturalized in our rude climate. All the attempts +I have made are, however, encouraging enough--you shall judge. My object +was, to ascertain the existence or non-existence of Leonora's jealousy. +I set about it with a tolerably careless assurance, and followed up the +hint, which accident had thrown out for my ingenuity to work upon. You +remember, or at least I remember, that Leonora withdrew her arm from +mine, and stooped to gather a flower at the moment when her husband +mentioned Florence, and the resemblance of my voice to that of some +Italian charmer. The next day I happened to play some of my sweetest +Italian airs, and to accompany them with my voice. The music-room opens +into the great hall: Leonora and her husband were in the hall, talking +to some visitors. The voices were soon hushed, as I expected, by the +magic sounds, but, what I did not expect, Leonora was the first who led +the way into the music-room. Was this affectation? These _simple_ +characters sometimes baffle all the art of the decipherer. I should have +been clear that it was affectation, had Leonora been prodigal of +compliments on my performance; but she seemed only to listen for her own +pleasure, and left it to Mr L---- to applaud. Whilst I was preparing to +play over again the air which pleased him most, the two little nephews +came running to beg Leonora would follow them to look at some trifle, +some coloured shadow, upon the garden-wall, I think they said: she let +them lead her off, leaving _us_ together. This did not seem like +jealousy. I was more at a loss than ever, and determined to make fresh +and more decisive experiments. Curiosity, you know, is heightened by +doubt. To cure myself of curiosity it is necessary therefore to put my +mind out of doubt. Admire the practical application of metaphysics! But +metaphysics always make you yawn. Adieu for to-day. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxiij. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Dear Margaret, an uncle of mine, who ever since I can remember seemed to +me cut out for an old bachelor, writes me word that he is just going to +be married, and that I must grace his nuptials. I cannot refuse, for he +has always been very kind to me, and we have no right to cut people out +for old bachelors. That I am sorry to leave Leonora it is superfluous to +tell you; but this is the melancholy part of the business, on which I +make it a principle to dwell as little as possible. + +Lady Olivia must be heartily glad that I am going, for I have been +terribly troublesome to her by my gaiety and my _simplicity_. I shall +lose all the pleasure I had promised myself in seeing the _denouement_ +of the comedy of _The Sentimental Coquette_, or, _The Heroine Unmasked_. + +I made Leonora almost angry with me this morning, by a hint or two I +gave upon this subject. She looked so very grave, that I was afraid of +my own thoughts, and I dared not explain myself farther. Intimate as I +am with her, there are points on which I am sure that she would never +make me her confidante. I think that she has not been in her usual good +spirits lately; and though she treats Olivia with uniform kindness, and +betrays not, even to my watchful eyes, the slightest symptom of +jealousy, yet I suspect that she sees what is going forward, and she +suffers in secret. Now if she would let me explain myself, I could set +her heart at ease, by the assurance that Mr L---- is only acting a part. +If her affection for her husband did not almost blind her, she would +have as much penetration as I have--which you will allow, my dear +Margaret, is saying a great deal. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xxiv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Congratulate me, my charming Gabrielle, upon being delivered from the +unfeeling gaiety of that friend of Leonora, that Helen of whom I +formerly sent you a too flattering portrait. Her departure relieves me +from many painful sensations. Dissonance to a musical ear is not more +horrid than want of harmony between characters to the soul of +sensibility. Between Helen and me there was a perpetual discord of ideas +and sentiments, which fatigued me inexpressibly. Besides, I began to +consider her as a spy upon my actions. But there, I believe, I did her +injustice, for she was too much occupied with her own trifling thoughts +to have any alarming powers of observation. + +Since her departure we have been very gay. Yesterday we had a large +company at dinner; some of the neighbouring families, whom I expected to +find mere country visitors, that were come a dozen miles to show their +antediluvian finery, retire half an hour after dinner, spoil coffee with +cream, say nothing, but at their appointed hours rise, ring for their +superb carriages, and go home by moonlight. However, to my astonishment, +I found myself in a society of well-bred, well-informed persons; the +women ready to converse, and the men, even after dinner, not impatient +to get rid of them. Two or three of the company had travelled, and I was +glad to talk to them of Italy, Switzerland, and France. Mr L---- I knew +would join in this conversation. I discovered that he came to Florence +just as I was leaving it. I was to have been at our ambassador's one +evening when he was there; but a headache prevented me. These little +coincidences, you know, my Gabrielle, draw people closer together. I +remember to have heard of a Mr L---- at Florence, who was a passionate +admirer of our sex. He was then unmarried. I little thought that this +was the same person. Beneath a cold exterior these Englishmen often +conceal a wondrous quantity of enthusiasm--volcanoes under snow. +Curiosity, dear indefatigable curiosity, supported me through the labour +of clearing away the snow, and I came to indubitable traces of +unextinguished and unextinguishable fire. The character of L---- is +quite different from what I had imagined it to be. It is _an excellent +study_. We had a long and interesting conversation upon national +manners, especially upon those of the females of all nations. He +concluded by quoting the words of your friend M. le Vicomte de Segur, +"If I were permitted to choose, I should prefer a French woman for my +friend, an English woman for my wife, and a Polish lady for my +mistress." + +From this, it seems, that I am mistaken about the Italian signora, or +else Mr L---- has an enlarged charity for the graces of all +nations.--More subject for curiosity. + +In the evening, before the company separated, we were standing on the +steps of the great hall, looking at a fine effect of moonlight, and I +pointed out the shadow of the arches of a bridge. From moonlight we went +on to lamplight, and many pretty things were said about art and nature. +A gentleman, who had just returned from Paris, talked of the reflection +of the lamps in the Seine, which one sees in crossing the Pont-Royal, +and which, as he said, appear like a colonnade of fire. As soon as he +had finished _prosing_ about his colonnade, I turned to Mr L----, and +asked if he remembered the account which Coxe the traveller gives of +the Polish princess Czartoryski's charming _fete champetre_ and the +illuminated rustic bridge of one arch, the reflection of which in the +water was so strong as to deceive the eye, and to give the whole the +appearance of a brilliant circle suspended in the air. Mr L---- seemed +enchanted with my description, and eagerly said that he would some night +have a bridge in his improvements illuminated, that _we_ (half-gallant +Englishman!) might see the effect. I carelessly replied, that probably +it would have a good effect: I would then have talked on other subjects +to the lady next me: but an Englishman cannot suddenly change the course +of his conversation. Mr L---- still persisted in asking a variety of +questions about this Polish fete. I excused myself: for if you satisfy +curiosity you are no longer sublime; besides it is so pedantic to +remember _accurately_ anything one meets with in books. I assured him +that I had forgotten the particulars. + +My countrymen are wondrous persevering, when once roused. This morning, +when I came down to breakfast, I found Mr L---- with a volume of Coxe's +travels in his hand. He read aloud to Leonora the whole description of +the illuminated gardens, and of a Turkish tent of curious workmanship, +and of a pavilion supported by pillars ornamented with wreaths of +flowers. Leonora's birthday is some time in the next month; and her +husband, probably to prevent any disagreeable little feelings, proposed +that the _fete champetre_ he designed to give should be on that day. She +seemed rather to discourage the thing. Now to what should this +indifference be attributed? To jealousy I should positively decide, but +that two reasons oppose this idea, and keep me in doubt. She was not +within hearing at the moonlight conference, and knew nothing of my +having mentioned the Polish fete, or of her husband's having proposed to +illuminate the bridge for me. Besides, I remember the other day when +she was reading the new French novel you sent me, she expressed great +dislike to the sentimental fetes which the lover prepares for his +mistress. I would give more than I dare tell you, my dear Gabrielle, to +be able to decide whether she is jealous of me or not. But where was +I?--Mr L----, who had set his heart upon the _fete champetre_, +persisted, and combatted her antipathy by reason. Foolish man! he should +have tried compliments, or caresses--if I had not been present. + +"My dear Leonora," said he, "I think you carry your dislike to these +things too far. They are more according to the French than to the +English taste, I know; but we should not be influenced by national +prejudice. I detest the ostentation and the affectation of sentiment as +much as you can; but where the real feeling exists, every mode of +showing kindness is agreeable. You must let us have this little fete on +your birthday. Besides the pleasure it will give me, I really think it +is useful to mix ideas of affection with amusement." + +She smiled most graciously, and replied, that she would with pleasure +accept of kindness in any form from him. In short, she was willing to +have the fete, when it was clearly explained that she was to be the +object of it. Is not this proof positive of jealousy? And yet my +curiosity is not thoroughly satisfied. I must go on; for Leonora's sake +I must go on. When I have been assured of the truth, I shall know how to +conduct myself; and you, who know my heart, will do me the justice to +believe, that when I am convinced of my friend's weakness, I shall spare +it with the most delicate caution: but till I am convinced, I am in +perpetual danger of blundering by my careless, inadvertent innocence. +You smile, Gabrielle; dear malicious Gabrielle, even in your malice you +are charming! Adieu! Pray for the speedy extinction of my curiosity. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxv. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + +You say, my dearest mother, that of late my letters have been more +constrained and less cheerful than usual, and you conjure me not to +conceal from you anything which may concern my happiness. I have ever +found you my best and most indulgent friend, and there is not a thought +or feeling of my mind, however weak or foolish, that I desire to conceal +from you. No one in this world is more--is so much interested in my +happiness; and in every doubtful situation I have always been accustomed +to apply to your unerring judgment for assistance. Your strength of +mind, your enlightened affection, would support and direct me, would at +once show me how I ought to act, and inspire me with courage and +fortitude sufficient to be worthy of your esteem, and of my own. At no +period of my life, not even when my heart first felt the confused +sensations of a passion that was new to it, did I ever want or wish for +a friend so much as at this instant: and yet I hesitate whether I ought +to ask even your advice, whether I ought to indulge myself in speaking +of my feelings even to my mother. I refrained from giving the slightest +intimation of them to my dear Helen, though she often led to this +subject, and seemed vexed by my reserve. I thought it not right to +accept of her sympathy. From her kindness I had every consolation to +expect, but no assistance from her counsels, because she does not +understand Mr L----'s character, and I could plainly perceive that she +had an erroneous idea so fixed in her fancy, as to prevent her seeing +things in their true light. I am afraid of imputing blame where I most +wish to avoid it: I fear to excite unjust suspicions; I dread that if I +say the whole you will imagine that I mean much more than I say. + +I have not been quite well lately, and my mind probably is more apt to +be alarmed than it would be if my health were stronger. All that I +apprehend may exist merely in my own distempered imagination. Do not +then suppose others are to blame, when perhaps I only am in fault. I +have for some time past been dissatisfied with myself, and have had +reason to be so; I do not say this from any false humility; I despise +that affectation; but I say it with a sincere desire, that you may +assist me to cure myself of a weakness, which, if it were to grow upon +my mind, must render me miserable, and might destroy the happiness of +the person I love best upon earth. You know that I am not naturally or +habitually of a suspicious temper, but I am conscious of having lately +felt a disposition to jealousy. I have been spoiled by the excessive +attention which my husband paid to me in the first year of our marriage. + +You warned me not to fancy that he could continue always a lover. I did +not, at least I tried not to expect such an impossibility. I was +prepared for the change, at least I thought I was: yet now the time, the +inevitable time is come, and I have not the fortitude to bear it as I +ought. If I had never known what it was to possess his love, I might +perhaps be content with his friendship. If I could feel only friendship +for him, I should now, possibly, be happy. I know that I have the first +place in his esteem: I do believe--I should be miserable indeed if I +did not believe--that I have the first place in his affection. But this +affection is certainly different from what it once was. I wish I could +forget the difference. No: I retract that wish; however painful the +comparison, the recollection of times that are past is delightful to my +heart. Yet, my dear mother, if such times are never to return, it would +be better for me to forget that they have ever been. It would be wiser +not to let my imagination recur to the past, which could then tend only +to render me discontented with the present and with the future. The +FUTURE! how melancholy that word sounds to me! What a dreary length of +prospect it brings to my view! How young I am, how many years may I have +to live, and how little motive have I left in life! Those which used to +act most forcibly upon me, have now scarcely power to move my mind. The +sense of duty, it is true, raises me to some degree of exertion; I hope +that I do not neglect the education of the two children whom my poor +sister bequeathed to my care. When my mind was at ease, they were my +delight; but now I feel that I am rather interrupted than interested by +their childish gaiety and amusements. + +I am afraid that I am growing selfish, and I am sure that I have become +shamefully indolent. I go on with certain occupations every day from +habit, not from choice; my mind is not in them. I used to flatter myself +that I did many things, from a sense of duty and of general benevolence, +which I am convinced were done merely from a particular wish to please, +and to make myself more and more beloved by the object of my fondest +affection. Disappointed in this hope, I sink into indolence, from which +the desire to entertain my friends is not sufficient to rouse me. Helen +has been summoned away; but I believe I told you that Mr and Mrs F**, +whose company is peculiarly agreeable to my taste, and Lady M***** and +her amiable daughters, and your witty friend *****, are with us. In such +society, I am ashamed of being stupid; yet I cannot contribute to the +amusement of the company, and I feel surprised at their animation and +sprightliness. It seems as if I was looking on at dances without hearing +any music. Sometimes I fear that my silence should be observed, and then +I begin to talk without well knowing what I am saying. I confine myself +to the most commonplace subjects, and hesitate, from the dread of saying +something quite foreign to the purpose. What must Mr L---- think of my +stupidity? But he does not, I believe, perceive it: he is so much +occupied with--with other objects. I am glad that he does not see all +that passes in my mind, for he might despise me if he knew that I am so +miserable. I did not mean to use so strong an expression; but now it is +written, I will not blot it out, lest you should fancy something worse +than the reality. I am not, however, yet so weak as to be seriously +_miserable_ when I have no real cause to be so. The truth is----. Now +you know this phrase is a tacit confession that all that has been said +before is false. The real truth is----. By my prefacing so long you may +be sure that I have reason to be ashamed of this real truth's coming +out. The real truth is, that I have been so long accustomed to be the +first and _only_ object of Mr L----'s thoughts, that I cannot bear to +see him think of anything else. Yes, _things_ I can bear, but not +_persons_--female persons; and there is one person here who is so much +more agreeable and entertaining than I am, that she engrosses very +naturally almost all his attention. I am not _envious_, I am sure; for I +could once admire all Lady Olivia's talents and accomplishments, and no +one could be more charmed than I was with her fascinating manners and +irresistible powers of pleasing; but when those irresistible powers may +rob me of the heart of my beloved husband--of the whole happiness of my +life--how can I admire them? All I can promise is to preserve my mind +from the meanness of suspicion. I can do my rival justice. I can +believe, and entreat you to believe, that she does not wish to be my +rival: that she is perfectly innocent of all design to injure me, and +that she is not aware of the impression she has made. I, who know every +change of Mr L----'s countenance, every inflexion of his voice, every +turn of his mind, can see too plainly what she cannot discern. I should +indeed have thought, that no woman, whom he distinguished or preferred +in any degree, could avoid perceiving it, his manner is so expressive, +so flattering; but perhaps this appears so only to me--a woman who does +not love him may see things very differently. Lady Olivia can be in no +danger, because her heart, fortunately for me, is prepossessed in favour +of another; and a woman whose heart is occupied by one object is +absolutely blind, as I well know, to all others. With this security I +ought to be satisfied; for I believe no one inspires a lasting passion +without sharing it. + +I am summoned to give my opinion about certain illuminations and +decoration for a _fete champetre_ which Mr L---- is so kind as to give +in honour of my birthday--just at the time I am complaining of his +neglect!----No, dear mother, I hope I have not complained of _him_, but +of _myself_:--and it is your business to teach your daughter to be more +reasonable. Write soon and fully to + + Your affectionate + Leonora. + + + + + Letter xxvi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +This fine fete champetre is over.--Expect no description of it from me, +Gabrielle, for I am horribly out of humour. The whole pleasure of the +evening was destroyed by the most foolish circumstance imaginable. +Leonora's jealousy is now evident to more eyes than mine. No farther +doubt upon the subject can remain. My curiosity is satisfied; but I am +now left to reproach myself for having gone so far to ascertain what I +ought to have taken for granted. All these good English wives are +jealous; so jealous, that no one, who has any pretensions to beauty, +wit, or _amiability_, can live with them. They can have no _society_ in +our sense of the word; of course they must live shut up in their own +dismal houses with their own stupid families, the faithful husband and +wife sitting opposite to each other in their own chimney corners, +yawning models of constancy. And this they call virtue! How the meanest +vices usurp the name of virtue! Leonora's is a jealousy of the most +illiberal and degrading species; a jealousy of the temper, not of the +heart. She is too cold to feel the passion of love.--She never could be +in love; of that I am certain. She is too reasonable, too prudish. +Besides, to imagine that she could be in love with her own husband, and +after eighteen months' marriage--the thing is absurd! the thing is +impossible! No, she deceives herself or him, or both, if she pretends +that her jealousy arises from love, from what you and I, Gabrielle, +understand by the word. Passion, and passion only, can plead a just +excuse for its own excesses. Were Leonora in love, I could pardon her +jealousy. But now I despise it. Yes, with all her high reputation, and +_imposing_ qualities, I must think of her with contempt. And now that I +have given vent to my feelings with that freedom in which I ever indulge +myself in writing to you, my amiable Gabrielle, chosen friend of my +heart, I will compose myself, and give you a rational account of things. + +You know that I am said to have some taste. Leonora makes no pretensions +to any. Wishing, I suppose, that her fete should be as elegant as +possible, she consulted me about all the arrangements and decorations. +It was I that did everything. My skill and taste were admired by the +whole company, and especially by Mr L----. He was in remarkably good +spirits at the commencement of the evening; quite gay and gallant: he +certainly paid me a great deal of attention, and it was natural he +should; for besides being his guest, I was undoubtedly the most elegant +woman present. My fame had gone abroad; I found that I was the object of +general attention. To this I have been tolerably well accustomed all my +life; enough at least to prevent me from giving any visible sign of +being moved by admiration in whatever form it comes; whether in the +polite foreign glance, or the broad English stare. The starers enjoyed +their pleasure, and I mine: I moved and talked, I smiled or was pensive, +as though I saw them not; nevertheless the homage of their gaze was not +lost upon me. You know, my charming Gabrielle, one likes to observe the +_sensation_ one produces amongst new people. The incense that I +perceived in the surrounding atmosphere was just powerful enough to +affect my nerves agreeably: that languor which you have so often +reproached me for indulging in the company of what we call +_indifferents_ gradually dissipated; and, as poor R*** used to say of +me, I came from behind my cloud like the sun in all its glory. I was +such as you have seen me, Gabrielle, in my best days, in my best +moments, in my very best style. I wonder what would excite me to such a +waste of powers. L---- seemed inspired too: he really was quite +agreeable, and showed me off almost as well as R*** himself could have +done. I had no idea that he had this species of talent. You will never +know of what my countrymen are capable, for you are out of patience with +the statues the first half hour: now it takes an amazing time to animate +them; but they can be waked into life, and I have a pride in conquering +difficulties.--There were more men this night in proportion to the women +than one usually sees in English company, consequently it was more +agreeable. I was surrounded by an admiring audience, and my conversation +of course was sufficiently general to please all, and sufficiently +particular to distinguish the man whom I wished to animate. In all this +you will say there was nothing to put one out of humour, nothing very +mortifying:--but stay, my fair philosopher, do not judge of the day till +you see its end.--Leonora was so hid from my view by the crowd of +adorers, that I really did not discern her, or suspect her jealousy. I +was quite natural; I thought only of myself; I declined all invitations +to dance, declaring that it was so long since I had tried an English +country dance, that I dared not expose my awkwardness. French country +dances were mentioned, but I preferred conversation. At last L---- +persecuted me to try a Polish dance with him--a multitude of voices +overpowered me. I have not the talent which some of my countrywomen +possess in such perfection, of being obstinate about trifles. When I can +refuse with grace, 'tis well; but when that is no longer possible, it is +my principle, or my weakness, to yield. I was surprised to find that +L---- danced admirably. I became animated. You know how dancing animates +me, when I have a partner who _can_ dance--a thing not very common in +this country. We ended by _waltzing_, first in the Polish, and +afterwards in the Parisian manner. I certainly surpassed myself--I flew, +I was borne upon the wings of the wind, I floated on the notes of the +music. Animated or languid in every gradation of grace and sentiment, I +abandoned myself to the inspiration of the moment; I was all soul, and +the spectators were all admiration. To you, my Gabrielle, I may speak +thus of myself without vanity: you know the sensation I was accustomed +to produce at Paris; you may guess then what the effect must be here, +where such a style of dancing has all the captivation of novelty. Had I +doubted that my _success_ was complete, I should have been assured of it +by the faces of some prudes among the matrons, who affected to think +that the waltz was _too much_. As L---- was leading, or rather +supporting me to my seat, for I was quite exhausted, I overheard a +gentleman, who was at no great distance from the place where Leonora was +standing, whisper to his neighbour, "Le Valse extreme est la volupte +permise." I fancy Leonora overheard these words, as well as myself, for +my eyes met hers at this instant, and she coloured, and directly looked +another way. L---- neither heard nor saw anything of all this: he was +intent upon procuring me a seat; and an Englishman can never see or +think of two things at a time. A few minutes afterwards, whilst he was +fanning me, a young awkward peasant girl, quite a stranger in this +country, came up to me, and dropping her novice curtsy, said, "Here's a +ring, my lady, I found on the grass; they tell me it is yours, my lady!" + +"No, my good girl, it is not mine," said I. + +"It is Lady Leonora's," said Mr L----. + +At the sound of her name Leonora came forward. + +The girl looked alternately at us. + +"Can you doubt," cried Colonel A----, "which of these ladies is Mr +L----'s wife?" + +"O no, sir; this is she, _to be sure_," said the girl, pointing to me. + +What there was in the girl's accent, or in L----'s look, when she +pronounced the words, or in mine, or in all three together, I cannot +exactly describe; but Leonora felt it. She turned as pale as death. I +looked as unconscious as I could. L---- went on fanning me, without +seeing his wife's change of countenance. Leonora--would you believe +it?--sank upon a bench behind us, and fainted. How her husband started, +when he felt her catch by his arm as she fell! He threw down the fan, +left me, ran for water--"O, Lady Leonora! Lady Leonora is ill!" +exclaimed every voice. The consternation was wonderful. They carried her +ladyship to a spot where she could have free air. I was absolutely in an +instant left alone, and seemingly as much forgotten as if I had never +existed! I was indeed so much astonished, that I could not stir from the +place where I stood; till recollecting myself, I pushed my way through +the crowd, and came in view of Leonora just as she opened her eyes. As +soon as she came to herself, she made an effort to stand, saying that +she was quite well again, but that she would go into the house and +repose herself for a few minutes. As she rose, a hundred arms were +offered at once to her assistance. She stepped forward; and to my +surprise, and I believe to the surprise of everybody else, took mine, +made a sign to her husband not to follow us, and walked quickly towards +the house. Her woman, with a face of terror, met us, as we were going +into Lady Leonora's apartment, with salts and hartshorn, and I know not +what in her hands. + +"I am quite well, quite well again; I do not want anything; I do not +want anything. I do not want you, Mason," said Leonora. "Lady Olivia is +so good as to assist me. I am come in only to rest for a few minutes." + +The woman gave me an evil look, and left the room. Never did I wish +anything more than that she should have staid. I was absolutely so +embarrassed, so distressed, when I found myself alone with Leonora, that +I knew not what to say. I believe I began with a sentence about the +night air, that was very little to the purpose. The sight of some +baby-linen which the maid had been making suggested to me something +which I thought more appropriate. + +"My dear creature!" said I, "why will you fatigue yourself so terribly, +and stand so much and so long in your situation?" + +Leonora neither accepted nor rejected my interpretation of what had +passed. She made no reply; but fixed her eyes upon me as if she would +have read my very soul. Never did I see or feel eyes so expressive or so +powerful as hers were at this moment. Mine absolutely fell beneath them. +What deprived me of presence of mind I know not; but I was utterly +without common sense. I am sure I changed colour, and Leonora must have +seen it through my rouge, for I had only the slightest tinge upon my +cheeks. The consciousness that she saw me blush disconcerted me beyond +recovery; it is really quite unaccountable: I trembled all over as I +stood before her; I was forced to have recourse to the hartshorn and +water, which stood upon the table. Leonora rose and threw open the +window to give me fresh air. She pressed my hand, but rather with an air +of forgiveness than of affection; I was mortified and vexed; but my +pride revived me. + +"We had better return to the company as soon as possible, I believe," +said she, looking down at the moving crowd below. + +"I am ready to attend you, my dear," said I coldly, "whenever you feel +yourself sufficiently rested and composed." + +She left the room, and I followed. You have no idea of the solicitude +with which the people hoped she was _better_--and _well_--and _quite +well_, &c. What amazing importance a fainting fit can sometimes bestow! +Her husband seemed no longer to have any eyes or soul but for her. At +supper, and during the rest of the night, she occupied the whole +attention of everybody present. Can you conceive anything so provoking? +But L---- must be an absolute fool!--Did he never see a woman faint +before?--He cannot pretend to be in love with his wife--I do not +understand it.--But this I know, that he has been totally different in +his manner towards me these three days past. + +And now that my curiosity is satisfied about Leonora's jealousy, I shall +absolutely perish with ennui in this stupid place. Adieu, dearest +Gabrielle! How I envy you! The void of my heart is insupportable. I must +have some passion to keep me alive. Forward any letters from poor R***, +if he has written under cover to you. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxvij. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + +Take courage, my beloved daughter; take courage. Have a just confidence +in yourself and in your husband. For a moment he may be fascinated by +the arts of an unprincipled woman; for a moment she may triumph over his +senses, and his imagination; but of his esteem, his affection, his +heart, she cannot rob you. These have been, ought to be, will be yours. +Trust to your mother's prophecy, my child. You may trust to it securely: +for, well as she loves you--and no mother ever loved a daughter +better--she does not soothe you with mere words of doting fondness; she +speaks to you the language of reason and of truth. + +I know what such a man as Mr L---- must esteem and love; I know of what +such a woman as my daughter is capable, when her whole happiness, and +the happiness of all that is dear to her, are at stake. The loss of +temporary admiration and power, the transient preference shown to a +despicable rival, will not provoke you to imprudent reproach, nor sink +you to helpless despair. The arts of an Olivia might continue to deceive +your husband, if he were a fool; or to please him, if he were a +libertine: but he has a heart formed for love, he cannot therefore be a +libertine: he is a man of superior abilities, and knows women too well +to be a dupe. With a penetrating and discriminative judgment of +character, he is a nice observer of female manners; his taste is +delicate even to excess; under a cold exterior he has a vivid +imagination and strong sensibility; he has little vanity, but a +superabundance of pride; he wishes to be ardently loved, but this he +conceals; it is difficult to convince him that he is beloved, and +scarcely possible to satisfy him by any common proofs of attachment. A +coquette will never attach Mr L----. The admiration which others might +express for her charms and accomplishments would never pique him to +competition: far from seeking "to win her praise whom all admire," he +would disdain to enter the lists with the vulgar multitude: a heart in +which he had a probability of holding only divided empire would not +appear to him worth the winning. As a coquette whatever may be her +talents, graces, accomplishments, and address, you have nothing +seriously to fear from Lady Olivia. + +But, my dear, Mr L----'s mind may be in a situation to require +amusement. That species of apathy which succeeds to passion is not, as +the inexperienced imagine, the death of love, but the necessary and +salutary repose from which it awakens refreshed and revived. Mr L----'s +passion for you has been not only tender, but violent, and the calm +which inevitably succeeds should not alarm you. + +When a man feels that his fondness for a wife is suspended, he is uneasy +in her company, not only from the sense of decreased pleasure, but from +the fear of her observation and detection. If she reproach him, affairs +become worse; he blames himself, he fears to give pain whenever he is in +her presence: if he attempt to conceal his feelings, and to appear what +he is no longer--a lover, his attempts are awkward; he becomes more and +more dissatisfied with himself; and the person who compels him to this +hypocrisy, who thus degrades him in his own eyes, must certainly be in +danger of becoming an object of aversion. A wife, who has sense enough +to abstain from all reproaches, direct or indirect, by word or look, may +reclaim her husband's affections: the bird escapes from his cage, but +returns to his nest. + +I am glad that you have agreeable company at your house; they will amuse +Mr L----, and relieve you from the necessity of taking a share in any +conversation that you dislike. Our witty friend ***** will supply your +share of conversation; and as to your silence, remember that witty +people are always content with those who _act audience_. + +I rejoice that you persist in your daily occupations. To a mind like +yours, the sense of performing your duty will, next to religion, be the +firmest support upon which you can rely. + +Perhaps, my dear, even when you read this, you will still be inclined to +justify Lady Olivia, and to conceal from your heart the suspicions which +her conduct excites. I am not surprised that you should find it +difficult to believe that one to whom you have behaved so generously +should treat you with treachery and ingratitude. I am not surprised, +that you who feel what it is to love, should think that a woman whose +heart is occupied by attachment to one object must be incapable of +thinking of any other. But love in such a heart as yours is totally +different from what it is in the fancy of these heroines. In their +imagination the objects are as fleeting as the pictures in the clouds +chased by the wind. + +From Lady Olivia expect nothing; depend only on yourself. When you +become, as you soon must, completely convinced that the woman in whom +your unsuspecting soul confided is utterly unworthy of your esteem, +refrain from all imprudent expressions of indignation. I despise--you +will soon hate--your rival; but in the moment of detection think of what +is due to yourself, and act as calmly as if you had never loved her. She +will suffer no pain from the loss of your friendship: she has not a +heart that can value it. Probably she is envious of you. All these women +desire to mortify those whom they cannot degrade to their own level: and +I am inclined to suspect that this malevolent feeling, joined to the +want of occupation, may be the cause of her present conduct. Her +manoeuvres will not ultimately succeed. She will be deserted by Mr +L----, disappointed and disgraced, and your husband will be more yours +than ever. When this happy moment comes, my Leonora; when your husband +returns, preferring yours to all other society, then will be the time to +exert all your talents, all your charms, to prove your superiority in +everything, but most in love. The soothings of female tenderness, in +certain situations, have power not only to calm the feelings of +self-reproach, but to diffuse delight over the soul of man. The oil, +which the skilful mariner throws upon the sea, not only smooths the +waves in the storm, but when the sun shines, spreads the most beautiful +colours over the surface of the waters. + +My dear daughter, though your mother writes seemingly at her ease, you +must not fancy that she does not feel for you. Do not imagine, that in +the coldness of extinguished passions, and in the pride of counselling +age, your mother expects to charm agony with words. No, my child, I am +not so absurd, so cruel. Your letter forced tears from eyes, which are +not used like sentimental eyes to weep upon every trifling occasion. My +first wish was to set out immediately to see you; but whatever +consolation or pleasure my company might afford, I believe it might be +disadvantageous to you in your present circumstances. I could not be an +hour in the room with this Lady Olivia, without showing some portion of +the indignation and contempt that I feel for her conduct. This warmth of +mine might injure you in your husband's opinion. Though you would have +too strong a sense of propriety, and too much dignity of mind, to make +complaints of your husband to me, or to any one living; yet it might be +supposed that your mother was your confidante in secret, and your +partisan in public: this might destroy your domestic happiness. No +husband can or ought to endure the idea of his wife's caballing against +him. I admire and shall respect your dignified silence. + +And now fare you well, my dearest child. May God bless you! If a +mother's prayers could avail, you would be the happiest of human beings. +I do, without partiality, believe you to be one of the best and most +amiable of women. + + + + + Letter xxviij. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + +Had your letter, my dearest mother, reached me a few hours sooner, I +should not have exposed myself as I have done. + +Yesterday, at our _fete champetre_, you would have been ashamed of me. I +am ashamed of myself. I did the very reverse of what I ought, of what I +would have done, if I had been fortified by your counsel. Instead of +being calm and dignified, I was agitated beyond all power of control. I +lost all presence of mind, all common sense, all recollection. + +I know your contempt for swooning heroines. What will you say, when you +hear that your daughter fainted--fainted in public? I believe, however, +that, as soon as I recovered, I had sufficient command over myself to +prevent the accident from being attributed to--to--to the real cause, +and I hope that the very moment I came to my recollection, my manner +towards Lady Olivia was such as to preclude all possibility of her being +blamed or even suspected. From living much abroad, she has acquired a +certain freedom of manner, and latitude of thinking, which expose her to +suspicion; but of all serious intention to injure me, or to pass the +bounds of propriety, I totally acquit her. She is not to blame for the +admiration she excites, nor is she to be the sufferer for my weakness +of mind or of health. + +Great and unreasonable folly I am sure I showed--but I shall do so no +more. + +The particular circumstances I need not explain: you may be assured, +that wherever I think it right to be silent, nothing shall tempt me to +speak: but I understood, by the conclusion of your letter, that you +expect me to preserve an absolute silence upon this subject in future: +this I will not promise. I cannot conceive that I, who do not mean to +injure any human being, ought, because I am unhappy, and when I am most +in want of a friend, to be precluded from the indulgence of speaking of +what is nearest my heart to that dear, safe, most enlightened, and +honourable of friends, who has loved, guided, instructed, and encouraged +me in everything that is right from my infancy. Why should I be refused +all claim to sympathy? why must my thoughts and feelings be shut up in +my own breast? and why must I be an isolated being, prescribed from +commerce with my own family, with my beloved mother, to whom I have been +accustomed to tell every feeling and idea as they rose? No; to all that +is honourable I will strictly conform; but by the superstition of +prudence I do not hold myself bound. + +Nothing could be kinder than my husband's conduct to me the evening +after I was taken ill. He left home early this morning; he is gone to +meet his friend, General B----, who has just returned from abroad. I +hope that Mr L---- will be absent only a few days; for it would be fatal +to my happiness if he should find amusement at a distance from home. His +home at all events shall never be made a cage to him; when he returns I +will exert myself to the utmost to make it agreeable. This I hope can be +done without obtruding my company upon him, or putting myself in +competition with any person. I could wish that some fortunate accident +might induce Lady Olivia to leave us before Mr L----'s return. Had I the +same high opinion of her generosity that I once formed, had I the same +perfect confidence in her integrity and in her friendship for me, I +would go this moment and tell her all that passes in my heart: no +humiliation of my vanity would cost me anything if it could serve the +interests of my love; no mean pride could stand in my mind against the +force of affection. But there is a species of pride which I cannot, will +not renounce--believing, as I do, that it is the companion, the friend, +the support of virtue. This pride, I trust, will never desert me: it has +grown with my growth; it was implanted in my character by the education +which my dear mother gave me; and now, even by her it cannot be +eradicated. Surely I have misunderstood one passage in your letter: you +cannot advise your daughter to restrain just indignation against vice +from any motive of policy or personal interest. You say to me, "In the +moment of detection think of what is due to yourself, and act as calmly +as if you had never loved her." If I _could_, I would not do this. +Contempt shown by virtue is the just punishment of vice, a punishment +which no selfish consideration should mitigate. If I were convinced that +Lady Olivia were guilty, would you have me behave to her as if I +believed her to be innocent? My countenance, my voice, my principles, +would revolt from such mean and pernicious hypocrisy, degrading to the +individual, and destructive to society. + +May I never more see the smile of love on the lips of my husband, nor +its expression in his eyes, if I do so degrade myself in my own opinion +and in his! Yes, in his; for would not he, would not any man of sense +or delicacy, recur to that idea so common with his sex, and so just, +that if a woman will sacrifice her sense of honour to her passions in +one instance, she may in another? Would he not argue, "If she will do +this for me because she is in love with me, why not for a new favourite, +if time or accident should make me less an object of passion?" No; I may +lose his love--this would be my misfortune: but to forfeit his esteem +would be my fault; and, under the remorse which I should then have to +endure, I am persuaded that no power of art or nature could sustain my +existence. + +So much for myself. As to the general good of society, that, I confess, +is not at this moment the uppermost consideration in my mind; but I will +add a few words on that subject, lest you should imagine me to be +hurried away by my own feelings. Public justice and reason are, I think, +on my side. What would become of the good order of society or the +decency of families, if every politic wife were to receive or invite, or +permit her husband's mistress to reside in her house? What would become +of conjugal virtue in either sex, if the wife were in this manner not +only to connive at the infidelity of her husband, but to encourage and +provide for his inconsistency? If she enters into bonds of amity and +articles of partnership with her rival, with that person by whom she has +been most injured, instead of being the dignified sufferer, she becomes +an object of contempt. + +My dearest mother, my most respected friend, my sentiments on this +subject cannot essentially differ from yours. I must have mistaken your +meaning. Pray write quickly, and tell me so; and forgive, if you cannot +approve of, the warmth with which I have spoken. + + I am your truly affectionate + And grateful daughter, + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter xxix. + + _Olivia to Madame P----._ + + +My amiable Gabrielle, I must be faithful to my promise of writing to you +every week, though this place affords nothing new either in events or +sentiment. Mr L----'s absence made this castle insupportably dull. A few +days ago he returned home, and met me with an easy kind of indifference, +provoking enough to a woman who has been accustomed to excite some +sensation. However, I was rejoiced at this upon Leonora's account. She +was evidently delighted, and her spirits and affections seemed to +overflow involuntarily upon all around her; even to me her manner became +quite frank and cordial, almost caressing. She is really handsome when +she is animated, and her conversation this evening quite surprised me. I +saw something of that playfulness, those light touches, that versatility +of expression, those words that mean more than meet the ear; everything, +in short, that could charm in the most polished foreign society. Leonora +seemed to be inspired with all the art of conversation by the simple +instinct of affection. What astonished me most was the grace with which +she introduced some profound philosophical remarks. "Such pearls," said +Mr L----, "come from the deep." + +With all these talents, what might not Leonora be in proper hands! But +now she is nothing except to her husband and a few intimate friends. +However, this is not my affair. Let me go on to what concerns myself. +You may believe, my dear Gabrielle, that I piqued myself upon showing at +least as much easy indifference as was shown to me: freedom encourages +freedom. As there was no danger of my being too amiable, I did not think +myself bound in honour or sentiment to keep myself in the shade; but I +could not be as brilliant as you have seen me at your _soirees_: the +magic circle of adorers, the inspiring power of numbers, the eclat of +public _representation_, were wanting. I retired to my own apartment at +night, quite out of humour with myself; and Josephine, as she undressed +me, put me still further out of patience by an ill-timed history of a +dispute she has had with Leonora's Swiss servant. The Swiss and +Josephine, it seems, came to high words in defence of their mistresses' +charms. Josephine provoked the Swiss by saying, that his lady might +possibly be handsome if she were dressed in the French taste; _mais +qu'elle etoit bien Angloise_, and would be quite another thing if she +had been at Paris. The Swiss retorted by observing, that Josephine's +lady had indeed learnt in perfection at Paris _the art of making herself +up_, which was quite necessary to a beauty _un peu passee_. The words +were not more agreeable to me than they had been to Josephine. I wonder +at her assurance in repeating them--"Un peu passee!" Many a woman in +England, ten, fifteen years older than I am, has inspired a violent +passion; and it has been observed, that power is retained by these +mature charmers, longer than conquest can be preserved by inexperienced +beauties. There are women who have learnt to combine, for their own +advantage, and for that of their captives, all the pleasure and +_conveniences_ of society, all that a thorough knowledge of the world +can give--women who have a sufficient attention to appearances, joined +to a real contempt of all prejudices, especially that of +constancy--women who possess that knowledge of the human heart, which +well compensates transient bloom; who add the expression of sentiment to +beautiful features, and who employ + + "Gay smiles to comfort, April showers to move, + And all the nature, all the art of Love." + +--"Un peu passee!" The Swiss is impertinent, and knows nothing of the +matter. His master knows but little more. He would, however, know +infinitely more if I could take the trouble to instruct him; to which I +am almost tempted for want of something better to do. Adieu, my +Gabrielle. R***'s silence is perfectly incomprehensible. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxx. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +So, my amiable Gabrielle, you are really interested in my letters, +_though written during my English exile_, and you are curious to know +whether any of my _potent spells_ can wake into life this man of marble. +I candidly confess you would inspire me with an ambition to raise my +poor countrymen in your opinion, if I were not restrained by the sacred +sentiment of friendship, which forbids me to rival Leonora _even_ in a +husband's opinion. + +However, Josephine, who feels herself a party concerned ever since her +battle with the Swiss, has piqued herself upon dressing me with +exquisite taste. I am every day _mise a ravir_!--and with such +perfection of art, that no art appears--all is negligent simplicity. I +let Josephine please herself; for you know I am not bound to be +frightful because I have a friend whose husband may chance to turn his +eye upon my figure, when he is tired of admiring hers. I rallied +L----the other day upon his having no eyes or ears but for his wife. Be +assured I did it in such a manner, that he could not be angry. Then I +went on to a comparison between the _facility_ of French and English +society. He admitted that there was some truth and more wit in my +observations. I was satisfied. With these reasonable men, the grand +point for a woman is to amuse them--they can have logic from their own +sex. But, my Gabrielle, I am summoned to the _salon_, and must finish my + Letter another day. + + * * * * * + +Heaven! can it be a fortnight since I wrote a line to my +Gabrielle!--Where was I?--"With these reasonable men the grand point for +a woman is to amuse them." True--most true! L----, believing himself +only amused with my lively nonsense, indulged himself with it +continually. I was to believe only what he believed. Presently he could +not do without my conversation for more than two hours together. What +was I to do, my Gabrielle? I walked out to avoid him. He found me in the +woods--rallied me on my taste for solitude, and quoted Voltaire. + +This led to a metaphysical conversation, half playful, half +serious:--the distinction which a man sometimes makes to his conscience +between thinking a woman entertaining, and feeling her interesting, +vanishes more easily, and more rapidly, than he is aware of--at least in +certain situations. This was not an observation I could make to my +companion in the woods, and he certainly did not make it for himself. It +would have been vanity in me to have broken off our conversation, lest +he should fall in love with me--it would have been blindness not to have +seen that he was in some danger. I thought of Leonora--and sighed--and +did all that was in my power to put him upon his guard. By way of +preservative, I frankly made him a confession of my attachment to R***. +This I imagined would put things upon a right footing for ever; but, on +the contrary, by convincing him of my innocence, and of my having no +designs on his heart, this candour has, I fear, endangered him still +more; yet I know not what to think--his manner is so variable towards +me--I must be convinced of what his sentiments are before I can decide +what my conduct ought to be. Adieu, my amiable Gabrielle; I wait for +something decisive with an inexpressible degree of anxiety--I will not +now call it curiosity.--Apropos, does R*** wish that I should forget +that he exists? What is this business that detains him? But why do I +condescend to inquire? + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxi. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + London. + + My dear L----, + +I send you the horse to which you took a fancy. He has killed one of his +grooms, and lamed two; but you will be his master, and I hope he will +know it. + +I have a word to say to you on a more serious subject. Pardon me if I +tell you that I think you are a happy man, and excuse me if I add, that +if you do not keep yourself so I shall not think you a wise one. A good +wife is better than a good-for-nothing mistress.--A self-evident +proposition!--A stupid truism! Yes; but if every man who knows a +self-evident proposition when he sees it on paper always acted as if he +knew it, this would be a very wise and a very happy world; and I should +not have occasion to write this letter. + +You say that you are only amusing yourself at the expense of a finished +coquette; take care that she does not presently divert herself at +yours.----"_You are proof against French coquetry and German +sentiment._"----Granted--but a fine woman?--and your own vanity?--But +you have no vanity.----You call it pride then, I suppose. I will not +quarrel with you for a name. Pride, properly managed, will do your +business as well as vanity. And no doubt Lady Olivia knows this as well +as I do. I hope you may never know it better. + + I am, my dear friend, + Truly yours, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xxxij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Advise me, dearest Gabrielle; I am in a delicate situation; and on your +judgment and purity of heart I have the most perfect reliance. Know, +then, that I begin to believe that Leonora's jealousy was not so +absolutely absurd as I at first supposed. She understood her husband +better than I did. I begin to fear that I have made a serious impression +whilst I meant only to amuse myself. Heaven is my witness, I simply +intended to satisfy my curiosity, and that once gratified, it was my +determination to respect the weakness I discovered. To love Leonora, as +once I imagined I could, is out of my power; but to disturb her peace, +to destroy her happiness, to make use of the confidence she has reposed +in me, the kindness she has shown by making me an inmate of her +house--my soul shudders at these ideas. No--if her husband really loves +me I will fly. Leonora shall see that Olivia is incapable of +treachery--that Olivia has a soul generous and delicate as her own, +though free from the prejudices by which she is fettered. To Leonora a +husband is a lover--I shall consider him as such, and respect her +_property_. You are so little used, my dear Gabrielle, to consider a +husband in this point of view, that you will scarcely enter into my +feelings: but put yourself in my situation, allow for nationality of +principle, and I am persuaded you would act as I shall. Spare me your +raillery; seriously, if Leonora's husband is in love with me, would you +not advise me, my dearest friend, to fly him, "far as pole from pole?" +Write to me, I conjure you, my Gabrielle--write instantly, and tell me +whether R*** is now at Paris. I will return thither immediately if you +advise it. My mind is in such confusion, I have no power to decide; I +will be guided by your advice. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxiij. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +Advice! my charming Olivia! do you ask me for advice? I never gave or +took advice in my life, except for _les vapeurs noirs_. And your +understanding is so far superior to mine, and you comprehend the +characters of these English so much better than I do, that I cannot +pretend to counsel you. This Lady Leonora is inconceivable with her +passion for her own husband; but how ridiculous to let it be suspected! +If her heart is so tender, cannot she, with all her charms, find a lover +on whom to bestow it, without tormenting that poor Mr L----. Evidently +he is tired of her: and I am sure I should be worn to death were I in +his place. Nothing so tiresome as love without mystery and without +obstacles. And this must ever be the case with conjugal love. Eighteen +months married, I think you say, and Lady Leonora expects her husband to +be still at her feet! And she wishes it! Truly she is the most +unreasonable woman upon earth--and the most extraordinary: but I am +tired of thinking of what I cannot comprehend. + +Let us pass on to Mr L----. By your last letters I should judge that he +might be an agreeable man if his wife were out of the question. +Matrimonial jealousy is a new idea to me; I can judge of it only by +analogy. In affairs of gallantry I have sometimes seen one of the +parties continue to love when the other has become indifferent, and then +they go on tormenting one another and being miserable, because they have +not the sense to see that a fire cannot be made of ashes. Sometimes I +have found romantic young people persuade themselves that they can love +no more because they can love one another no longer; but if they had +sufficient courage to say--I am tired--and I cannot help it--they would +come to a right understanding immediately, and part on the best terms +possible; each eager to make a new choice, and to be again in love and +happy. All this to be done with decency, of course. And if there be no +scandal, where is the harm? Can it signify to the universe whether Mons. +Un-tel likes Mad. Une-telle or Mad. Une-autre? Provided there is love +enough, all the world is in good humour, and that is the essential +point; for without good humour, what becomes of the pleasures of +society? As to the rest, I think of inconstancy, or _infidelity_ as it +is called, much as our good La Fontaine did--"Quand on le sait c'est peu +de chose--quand on ne le sait pas ce n'est rien." + +To promise to love one person eternally! What a terrible engagement! It +freezes my heart even to think of it. I am persuaded, that if I were +bound to love him for life, I should detest the most amiable man upon +earth in ten minutes--a husband more especially. Good Heavens! how I +should abhor M. de P---- if I saw him in this point of view. On the +contrary, now I love him infinitely--that is to say, as one loves a +husband. I have his interest at heart, and his glory. When I thought he +was going to prison I was in despair. I was at home to no one but +_Brave-et-Tendre_, and to him only to consult on the means of obtaining +my husband's pardon. M. de P---- is sensible of this, and on my part I +have no reason to complain of his liberality. We are perfectly happy, +though we meet perhaps but for a few minutes in the day; and is not this +better than tiring one another for four-and-twenty hours? When I grow +old--if ever I do--he will be my best friend. In the meantime I support +his credit with all my influence. This very morning I concluded an +affair for him, which never could have succeeded, if the intimate friend +of the minister had not been also my lover. Now, why cannot your Lady +Leonora and her Mr L---- live on the same sort of terms? But if English +manners will not permit of this, I have nothing more to say. Above all +things a woman must respect opinion, else she cannot be well received in +the world. I conclude this is the secret of Lady Leonora's conduct. But +then jealousy!--no woman, I suppose, is bound, even in England, to be +jealous in order to show her love for her husband. I lose myself again +in trying to understand what is incomprehensible. + +As to you, my dear Olivia, you also amaze me by talking of _crimes_ and +_horror_, and _flying from pole to pole_ to avoid a man because you have +made him at last find out that he has a heart! You have done him the +greatest possible service: it may preserve him perhaps from hanging +himself next November--that month in which, according to Voltaire's +philosophical calendar, Englishmen always hang themselves, because the +atmosphere is so thick and their ennui so heavy. Lady Leonora, if she +really loves her husband, ought to be infinitely obliged to you for +averting this danger. As to the rest, your heart is not concerned, so +you can have nothing to fear; and as for a platonic attachment on the +part of Mr L----, his wife, even according to her own rigid principles, +cannot blame you. + +Adieu, my charming friend! Instead of laughing at your fit of prudery, I +ought to encourage your scruples, that I might profit by them. If they +should bring you to Paris immediately, with what joy should I embrace my +Olivia, and how much gratitude should I owe to the jealousy of Lady +Leonora L----! + +R*** is not yet returned. When I have any news to give you of him, +depend upon it you shall hear from me again. Accept, my interesting +Olivia, the vows of my most tender and eternal friendship. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter xxxiv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle, Tuesday. + +Your charming letter, my Gabrielle, has at once revived my spirits and +dissipated all my scruples; you mistake, however, in supposing that +Leonora is in love with her husband: more and more reason have I every +hour to be convinced that Leonora has never known the passion of love; +consequently her jealousy was, as I at first pronounced it to be, the +selfish jealousy of matrimonial power and property. Else why does it +subside, why does it vanish, when, if it were a jealousy of the heart, +it has now more provocation, infinitely more than when it appeared in +full force? Leonora could see that her husband distinguished me at a +_fete champetre_; she could see what the eyes of others showed her; she +could hear what envy whispered, or what scandal hinted; she was +mortified, she was alarmed even to fainting by a public preference, by a +silly country girl's mistaking me for _the wife_, and doing homage to me +as to the lady of the manor; but Leonora cannot perceive in the object +of her affection the symptoms that mark the rise and progress of _a real +love_. Leonora feels not the little strokes, which would be fatal blows +to the peace of a truly delicate mind; she heeds not "the trifles light +as air," which would be confirmation strong to a soul of genuine +sensibility. My influence over the mind of L---- increases rapidly, and +I shall let it rise to its acme before I seem to notice it. Leonora, +reassured, I suppose, by a few flattering words, and more perhaps by an +exalted opinion of her own merit, has lately appeared quite at her ease, +and blind to all that passes before her eyes. It is not for me to +dissipate this illusion prematurely--it is not for me to weaken this +confidence in her husband. To an English wife this would be death. Let +her foolish security then last as long as possible. After all, how much +anguish of heart, how many pangs of conscience, how much of the torture +of pity, am I spared by this callous temper in my friend! I may indulge +in a little harmless coquetry without danger to her peace, and without +scruple enjoy the dear possession of power. + + * * * * * + +"Say, for you know," charming Gabrielle, what is the delight of +obtaining power over the human heart? Let the lords of the creation +boast of their power to govern all things; to charm these governors be +ours. Let the logicians of the earth boast their power to regulate the +world by reason; be it ours, Gabrielle, to intoxicate and humble proud +reason to the dust beneath our feet.--And who shall blame in us this +ardour for universal dominion? If they are men, I call them tyrants--if +they are women, I call them hypocrites--and the two vices which I most +detest are tyranny and hypocrisy. Frankly I confess, that I feel in all +its restless activity the passion for general admiration. I cannot +conceive--can you, Gabrielle?--a pleasure more transporting than the +perception of extended and extending dominion. The struggle of the rebel +heart for freedom makes the war more tempting, the victory more +glorious, the triumph more splendid. Secure of your sympathy, ma belle +Gabrielle, I shall not fear to tire you by my commentaries. + + * * * * * + +Male coquetry justifies female retaliation to any imaginable extent. +Upon this principle, on which I have seen you act so often, and so +successfully, I shall now intrepidly proceed. This man makes a show of +resistance; be it at his own peril: he thinks that he is gaining power +over my heart, whilst I am preparing torments for his; he fancies that +he is throwing chains round me, whilst I am rivetting fetters from which +he will in vain attempt to escape. He is proud, and has the insanity of +desiring to be exclusively beloved, yet affects to set no value upon the +preference that is shown to him; appears satisfied with his own +approbation, and stoically all-sufficient to his own happiness. Leonora +does not know how to manage his temper, but I do. The suspense, however, +in which he keeps me is tantalizing: he shall pay for it hereafter: I +had no idea, till lately, that he had so much self-command. At times he +has actually made me doubt my own power. At certain moments I have been +half tempted to believe that I had made no serious impression, that he +had been only amusing himself at my expense, and for Leonora's +gratification: but upon careful and cool observation I am convinced that +his indifference is affected, that all his stoicism will prove vain. The +arrow is lodged in his heart, and he must fall, whether he turns upon +the enemy in anger, or flies in dismay. + + * * * * * + +My pride is exasperated. I am not accustomed to such obstinate +resistance. I really almost hate this invincible man, and--strange +inconsistency of the human heart!--almost love him. Heaven and pride +preserve me from such a weakness! But there is certainly something that +piques and stimulates one's feelings in this species of male coquetry. +L----understands the business better than I thought he could. One moment +my knowledge of the arts of his sex puts me on my guard; the next my +sensibility exposes me in the most terrible manner. Experience ought to +protect me, but it only shows me the peril and my inability to escape. +Ah! Gabrielle, without a heart how safe we should be, how dangerous to +our lovers! But cursed with sensibility, we must, alas! submit to our +fate. The habit of loving, _le besoin d'aimer_, is more powerful than +all sense of the folly and the danger. Nor is the tempest of the +passions so dreadful as the dead calm of the soul. Why did R*** suffer +my soul to sink into this ominous calm? The fault is his; let him abide +the consequence. Why did he not follow me to England? Why did he not +write to me? or when he did write, why were his letters so cold, so +spiritless? When I spoke of divorce, why did he hesitate? Why did he +reason when he should have only felt? Tell him, my tender, my delicate +friend, these are questions which the heart asks, and which the heart +only can answer. Adieu. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxv. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +Je suis excedee! mon coeur. Alive, and but just alive, after such a day +of fatigues! All morning from one minister to another! then home to my +toilette! then a great dinner with a number of foreigners, each to be +distinguished--then au Feydeau, where I was obliged to go to support +poor S----'s play. It would be really insupportable, if it were not for +the finest music in the world, which, after all, the French music +certainly is. There was a violent party against the piece; and we were +so late, that it was just on the point of perishing. My ears have not +yet recovered from the horrid noise. In the midst of the tumult I +happily, by a master-stroke, turned the fortune of the night. I spied +the shawl of an English woman hanging over the box. This, you know, like +scarlet to the bull, is sufficient to enrage the Parisian pit. To the +shawl I directed the fury of the mob of critics. Luckily for us, the +lady was attended only by an Englishman, who of course chose to assert +his right not to understand the customs of any country, or submit to any +will but his own. He would not permit the shawl to be stirred. A bas! a +bas: resounded from below. The uproar was inconceivable. You would have +thought that the house must have come down. In the meantime the piece +went on, and the shawl covered all its defects. Admire my generalship. +T---- tells me I was born for a general; yet I rather think my forte is +negociation. + +But I have not yet come to your affairs, for which alone I could undergo +the fatigue of writing at this moment. Guess, my Olivia, what apparition +I met at the door of my box to-night. But the enclosed note will save +you the trouble of guessing. I could not avoid permitting him to slide +his billet doux into my hand as he put on my shawl. Adieu. I must refuse +myself the pleasure of conversing longer with my sweet friend. Fresh +toils await me. Mad. la Grande will never forgive me if I do not appear +for a moment at her soiree: and la petite Q---- will be jealous beyond +recovery if I do not give her a moment: and it is Mad. R----'s night. +There I must be; for all the ambassadors, as usual, will be there; and +as some of them, I have reason to believe, go on purpose to meet me, I +cannot disappoint their excellencies. My friends would never forgive it. +I am positively quite weary of this life of eternal bustle; but once in +the eddy, one is carried round and round; there is no stopping. Adieu, +adieu. I write under the hands of Victoire. O that she had your taste to +guide her, and to decide my too vacillating judgment: we should then +have no occasion to dread even the elegant simplicity of Mad. R----'s +toilette. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter xxxvi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +My Gabrielle, I have read R***'s note enclosed in your charming +sprightly letter. What a contrast! So cold! so formal! A thousand times +rather would I not have heard from him, than have received a letter so +little in unison with my feelings. He talks to me of business. Business! +What business ought to detain a man a moment from the woman he loves? +The interests of his ambition are nothing to me. What are all these to +love? Is he so mean as to hesitate between them? then I despise him! and +Olivia can never love the being she despises! + +Does R*** flatter himself that his power over my heart is omnipotent? +Does he imagine that Olivia is to be slighted with impunity? Does R*** +think that a woman who has even nominally the honour to reign over his +heart cannot meditate new conquests? O credulous vanity of man! He +fancies perhaps that he is secure of the maturer age of one who fondly +devoted to him her inexperienced youth. "Security is the curse of +fools." Does he in his wisdom deem a woman's age a sufficient pledge for +her constancy? He might every day see examples enough to convince him of +his error. In fact, the age of women has nothing to do with the number +of their years. Possibly, however, the gallant gentleman may be of +opinion with Leonora's Swiss, that Lady Olivia is _un peu passee_. +Adieu, my dear friend; you, who always understand and sympathize in my +feelings, you will express them for me in the best manner possible. I +shall not write to R***. You will see him; and Olivia commits to you +what to a woman of delicacy is more dear than her love--her just +resentment. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxvij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Pity me, dearest Gabrielle, for I am in need of all the pity which your +susceptible heart can bestow. Never was woman in such a terrible +situation! Yes, Gabrielle, this provoking, this incomprehensible, this +too amiable man, has entangled your poor friend past recovery. Her +sentiments and sensations must henceforward be in eternal opposition to +each other. Friendship, gratitude, honour, virtue, all in tremendous +array, forbid her to think of love; but love, imperious love, will not +be so defied: he seizes upon his victim, and now, as in all the past, +will be the ruler, the tyrant of Olivia's destiny. Never was confusion, +amazement, terror, remorse, equal to mine, Gabrielle, when I first +discovered that I loved him. Who could have foreseen, who could have +imagined it? I meant but to satisfy an innocent curiosity, to indulge +harmless coquetry, to gratify the natural love of admiration, and to +enjoy the possession of power. Alas! I felt not that whilst I was +acquiring ascendancy over the heart of another I was beguiled of all +command over my own. I flattered myself that when honour should bid me +stop, I could pause without hesitation, without effort: I promised +myself, that the moment I should discover that I was loved by the +husband of my friend I should fly from him for ever. Alas! it is no +longer time--to fly from him is no longer in my power. O Gabrielle! I +love him: he knows that I love him. Never did woman suffer more than I +have done since I wrote to you last. The conflict was too violent for my +feeble frame. I have been ill--very ill: a nervous fever brought me +nearly to the grave. Why did I not die? I should have escaped the deep +humiliation, the endless self-reproach to which my future existence is +doomed.--Leonora!--Why do I start at that name? Oh! there is horror in +the sound! Even now perhaps she knows and triumphs in my weakness. Even +now perhaps her calm insensible soul blesses itself for not being made +like mine. Even now perhaps her husband doubts whether he shall accept +Olivia's love, or sacrifice your wretched friend to Leonora's pride. O +Gabrielle, no words can describe what I suffer! But I must be calm, and +explain the progress of this fatal passion. Explain--Heavens! how shall +I explain what I cannot recollect without heart-rending anguish and +confusion! O Gabrielle! pity + + Your distracted + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xxxviij. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Monday. + +My dear romantic Olivia! you must have a furious passion for tormenting +yourself, when you can find matter for despair in your present +situation. In your place I should rejoice to find that in the moment an +old passion had consumed itself, a new one, fresh and vigorous, springs +from its ashes. My charming friend, understand your own interests, and +do not be the dupe of those fine phrases that we are obliged to employ +to deceive others. Rail at Cupid as much as you please to the men in +public, _par facon_; but always remember for your private use, that love +is essential to our existence in society. What is a woman when she +neither loves nor is loved? a mere _personage muet_ in the drama of +life. Is it not from our lovers that we derive our consequence? Even a +beauty without lovers is but a queen without subjects. A woman who +renounces love is an abdicated sovereign, always longing to resume her +empire when it is too late; continually forgetting herself, like the +pseudo-philosophic Christina, talking and acting as though she had still +the power of life and death in her hands; a tyrant without guards or +slaves; a most awkward, pitiable, and ridiculous personage. No, my fair +Olivia, let us never abjure love: even when the reign of beauty passes +away, that of grace and sentiment remains. As much delicacy as you +please: without delicacy there is no grace, and without a veil beauty +loses her most captivating charms. I pity you, my dear, for having let +your veil be blown aside _malheureusement_. But such accidents will +happen. Who can control the passions or the winds? After all, _l'erreur +d'un moment_ is not irretrievable, and you reproach yourself too +bitterly, my sweet friend, for your involuntary injustice to Lady +Leonora. Assuredly it could not be your intention to sacrifice your +repose to Mr L----. You loved him against your will, did you not? And it +is, you know, by the intention that we must judge of actions: the +positive harm done to the world in general is in all cases the only just +measure of criminality. Now what harm is done to the universe, and what +injury can accrue to any individual, provided you keep your own counsel? +As long as your friend is deceived, she is happy; it therefore becomes +your duty, your virtue, to dissemble. I am no great casuist, but all +this appears to me self-evident; and these I always thought were your +principles of philosophy. My dear Olivia, I have drawn out my whole +store of metaphysics with some difficulty for your service; I flatter +myself I have set your poor distracted head to rights. One word +more--for I like to go to the bottom of a subject, when I can do so in +two minutes: virtue is desirable because it makes us happy; +consequently, to make ourselves happy is to be truly virtuous. Methinks +this is sound logic. + +To tell you the truth, my dear Olivia, I do not well conceive how you +have contrived to fall in love with this half-frozen Englishman. 'Tis +done, however--there is no arguing against facts; and this is only one +proof more of what I have always maintained, that destiny is inevitable +and love irresistible. Voltaire's charming inscription on the statue of +Cupid is worth all the volumes of reasoning and morality that ever were +or ever will be written. Banish melancholy thoughts, my dear friend; +they serve no manner of purpose but to increase your passion. Repentance +softens the heart; and everybody knows, that what softens the heart +disposes it more to love: for which reason I never abandon myself to +this dangerous luxury of repentance. Mon Dieu! why will people never +profit by experience? And to what purpose do they read history? Was not +La Valliere ever penitent and ever transgressing? ever in transports or +in tears? You, at all events, my Olivia, can never become a Carmelite or +a Magdalen. You have emancipated yourself from superstition: but whilst +you ridicule all religious orders, do not inflict upon yourself their +penances. The habit of some of the orders has been thought becoming. The +modest costume of a nun is indeed one of the prettiest dresses one can +wear at a masquerade ball, and it might even be worn without a mask, if +it were fashionable: but nothing that is not fashionable can be +becoming. + +Adieu, my adorable Olivia: I will send you by the first opportunity your +Lyons gown, which is really charming. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter xxxix. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + Nov. 30th, -- + +Your truly philosophical letter, my infinitely various Gabrielle, +infused a portion of its charming spirit into my soul. My mind was +fortified and elevated by your eloquence. Who could think that a woman +of such a lively genius could be so profound? and who could expect from +a woman, who has passed her life in the world, such original and deep +reflections? You see you were mistaken when you thought that you had no +genius for philosophic subjects. + +After all that has been said by metaphysicians about the existence and +seat of the moral sense, I think I can solve every difficulty by a new +theory. You know some philosophers suppose the moral sense to be +intuitive and inherent in man: others who deny the doctrine of innate +ideas, treat this notion of innate sentiments as equally absurd. There +they certainly are wrong, for sentiments are widely different from +ideas, and I have that within me which convinces my understanding that +sentiments must be innate, and proportioned to the delicacy of our +sensibility; no person of common sense or feeling can doubt this. But +there are other points which I own puzzled me till yesterday: some +metaphysicians would seat the moral sense inherently in the heart, +others would place it intuitively in the brain, all would confine it to +the soul; now in my opinion it resides primarily and principally in the +nerves, and varies with their variations. Hence the difficulty of making +the moral sense a universal guide of action, since it not only differs +in many individuals, but in the same persons, at different periods of +their existence, or (as I have often experienced) at different hours of +the day. All this must depend upon the mobility of the nervous system; +upon this may _hinge_ the great difficulties which have puzzled +metaphysicians respecting consciousness, identity, &c. If they had +attended less to the nature of the soul, and more to the system of the +nerves, they would have avoided innumerable errors, and probably would +have made incalculably important discoveries. Nothing is wanting but +some great German genius to bring this idea of a moral sense in the +nerves into fashion. Indeed, if our friend Mad. *** would mention it in +the notes to her new novel, it would introduce it in the most +satisfactory manner possible to all the fashionable world abroad; and we +take our notions in this country implicitly from the Continent. As for +you, my dear Gabrielle, I know you cut the gordian knot at once, by +referring, with your favourite moralist, every principle of human nature +to self-love. This does not quite accord with my ideas; there is +something harsh in it, that is repugnant to my sensibility; but you have +a stronger mind than I have, and perhaps your theory is right. + +"You tell me I contradict myself continually," says the acute and witty +Duke de la Rochefoucault: "No, but the human heart, of which I treat, is +in perpetual contradiction to itself." Permit me to avail myself of this +answer, dear Gabrielle, if you should accuse me of contradicting in this + Letter all that I said to you in my last. A few hours after I had +despatched it the state of my nerves changed; I saw things of course in +a new light, and repented having exposed myself to your raillery by +writing in such a Magdalen strain. My nerves were more in fault than I. +When one's mind or one's nerves grow weak, the early associations and +old prejudices of the nursery recur, and tyrannize over one's reason: +from this evil your liberal education and enviable temperament have +preserved you; but have charity for my feminine weakness of frame, which +too often counteracts the masculine strength of my soul. Now that I have +deprecated your ridicule for my last nervous nonsense, I will go on in +a more rational manner. However my better judgment might have been +clouded for a moment, I have recovered strength of mind enough to see +that I am in no way to blame for anything that has happened. If a man is +amiable, and if I have taste and sensibility, I must see and feel it. +"To love," as I remember your friend G****** once finely observed to +you, "to love is a crime only in the eyes of demons, or of priests, who +resemble demons." This is a general proposition, to which none but the +prejudiced can refuse their assent: and what is true in general must be +true in particular. The _accident_, I use the term philosophically, not +popularly, the accident of a man's being married, or, in other words, +having entered imprudently into a barbarous and absurd civil contract, +cannot alter the nature of things. The essence of truth cannot be +affected by the variation of external circumstances. Now the proper +application of metaphysics frees the mind from vulgar prejudices, and +dissipates the baby terrors of an ill-educated conscience. To fall in +love with a married man, and the husband of your intimate friend! How +dreadful the sounds to some ears! even mine were startled at first, till +I called reason to my assistance. Then I had another difficulty to +combat--to own, and own unasked, a passion to the object of it, would +shock the false delicacy of those who are governed by common forms, and +who are slaves to vulgar prejudices: but a little philosophy liberates +our sex from the tyranny of custom, teaches us to disdain hypocrisy, and +to glory in the simplicity of truth. + +Josephine had been perfuming my hair, and I was sitting reading at my +toilette; the door of my dressing-room happened to be half open; L---- +was crossing the gallery, and as he passed I suppose his eye was caught +by my hair, or perhaps he paused a moment, I am not certain how it +was--my eyes were on my book. + +"Ah! vous avez raison, monsieur, c'est la plus belle chevelure! Mais +entrez donc, monsieur," cried Josephine, whom I can never teach to +comprehend or respect English customs, "Eh! entrez, entrez, monsieur; +madame est a sa toilette." + +As I looked up I could not forbear smiling at the extreme ease and +decision of Josephine's manner, and the excessive doubt and anxiety in +the gentleman's appearance. My smile, which, Heaven knows, meant no +encouragement, decided him; timidity instantly gave way to joy; he +entered. What was to be done? I could not turn him out again; I was not +answerable for any foolish conclusions he might draw from what he ought +in politeness to have considered as a thing of course. All I could do +was to blame Josephine for being a French woman. To defend her, and +flatter me, was the gentleman's part; and, for an Englishman, he really +acquitted himself with tolerable grace. Josephine at least was pleased, +and she found such a perpetual employment for monsieur, and his advice +was so necessary, that there was no chance of his departure: so we +talked of French _toilettes_, &c. &c., in French for Josephine's +edification: L---- paid me some compliments upon the recovery of my +looks after my illness--I thought I looked terribly languid--but he +assured me that this languor, in his eyes, was an additional grace; I +could not understand this: he fancied that must be because he did not +express himself well in French; he explained himself more clearly in +English, which Josephine, you know, does not understand, so that she was +now forced to be silent, and I was compelled to take my share in the +conversation. L---- made me comprehend that languor indicating +sensibility of heart was to him the most touching of female charms; I +sighed, and took up the book I had been reading; it was the new novel +which you sent me, dear Gabrielle; I talked of it, in hopes of changing +the course of the conversation; alas! this led to one far more +dangerous: he looked at the passage I had been reading. This brought us +back to sensibility again--to sentiments and descriptions so terribly +apposite! we found such a similarity in our tastes! Yet L---- spoke only +in general, and he preserved a command over himself, which provoked me, +though I knew it to be coquetry; I saw the struggle in his mind, and was +determined to force him to be candid, and to enjoy my triumph. With +these views I went farther than I had intended. The charm of sensibility +he had told me was to him irresistible. Alas! I let him perceive all the +weakness of my heart.--Sensibility is the worst timekeeper in the world. +We were neither of us aware of its progressive motion. The Swiss--my +evil genius--the Swiss knocked at the door to let me know dinner was +served. Dinner! on what vulgar incidents the happiness of life depends! +Dinner came between the discovery of my sentiments and that declaration +of passion which I now must hear--or die. + +"Le diner! mon Dieu!" cried Josephine. "Mais--finissons donc--la +toilette de madame." + +I heard the impertinent Swiss at the other end of the gallery at his +master's door, wondering in broken English where his master could be, +and conjecturing forty absurdities about his boots, and his being out +riding, &c. &c. To sally forth in conscious innocence upon the enemy's +spies, and to terminate the adventure as it was begun, _a la Francoise_, +was my resolution. L---- and Josephine understood me perfectly. + +"Eh! Monsieur de Vaud," said Josephine to the Swiss, whom we met on the +landing-place of the stairs, "madame n'est elle pas coeffee a ravir +aujourd'hui? C'est que monsieur vient d'assister a la toilette de +madame." The Swiss bowed, and said nothing. The bow was to his master, +not to me, and it was a bow of duty, not of inclination. I never saw a +man look so like a machine; he did not even raise his eyes upon me or my +_coeffure_ as we passed. + +Bah! cried Josephine, with an inexpressible accent of mingled +indignation and contempt. She ran downstairs, leaving the Swiss to his +stupidity. I was more afraid of his penetration. But I entered the +dining-room as if nothing extraordinary had happened; and after all, you +know, my dear Gabrielle, nothing extraordinary had befallen us. A +gentleman had assisted at a lady's toilette. Nothing more simple, +nothing more proper in the meridian of Paris; and does propriety change +with meridians? There was company at dinner, and the conversation was +general and uninteresting; L---- endeavoured to support his part with +vivacity; but he had fits of absence and silence, which might have +alarmed Leonora, if she had any suspicion. But she is now perfectly +secure, and absolutely blind: therefore you see there can be no danger +for her happiness in my remaining where I am. For no earthly +consideration would I disturb her peace of mind; there is no sacrifice I +would hesitate for a moment to make to friendship or virtue, but I +cannot surely be called upon to _plant a dagger in my own heart_, to +destroy, for ever to destroy my own felicity without advantage to my +friend. My attachment to L----, as you say, is involuntary, and my love +as pure as it is fervent. I have reason to believe that his sentiments +are the same for me; but of this I am not yet certain. There is the +danger, and the only real danger for Leonora's happiness; for whilst +this uncertainty and his consequent fits of absence and imprudence last, +there is hazard every moment of her being alarmed. But when L---- once +decides, everything arranges itself, you know, Gabrielle, and prudence +becomes a duty to ourselves and to Leonora. No word, or look, or +coquetry could then escape us; we should be unpardonable if we did not +conduct ourselves with the most scrupulous delicacy and attention to her +feelings. I am amazed that L----, who has really a good understanding, +does not make these reflections, and is not determined by this +calculation. For his, for my own, but most for Leonora's sake, I wish +that this cruel suspense were at an end. Adieu, dear and amiable +Gabrielle.--These things are managed better in France. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xl. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + L---- Castle. + + Dear Margaret, + +I arrived here late yesterday evening in high spirits, and high hopes of +surprising and delighting all the world by my unexpected appearance; but +my pride was checked, and my tone changed the moment I saw Leonora. +Never was any human being so altered in her looks in so short a time. I +had just, and but just presence of mind enough not to say so. I am +astonished that it does not strike Mr L----. As soon as she left the +room, I asked him if Lady Leonora had been ill? No; perfectly well! +perfectly well!--Did not he perceive that she looked extremely ill? No; +she might be paler than usual: that was all that Mr L---- had observed. +Lady Olivia, after a pause, added, that Leonora certainly had not +appeared well lately, but this was nothing extraordinary in her +_situation_. _Situation!_ nonsense! Lady Olivia went on with sentimental +hypocrisy of look and tone, saying fine things, to which I paid little +attention. Virtue in words, and vice in actions! thought I. People of +certain pretensions in the court of sentiment think that they can pass +false virtues upon the world for real, as some ladies, entitled by their +rank to wear jewels, appear in false stones, believing that it will be +taken for granted they would wear nothing but diamonds. Not one eye in a +hundred detects the difference at first, but in time the hundredth eye +comes, and then they must for ever hide their diminished rays. Beware! +Lady Olivia, beware! + +Leonora is ill, or unhappy, or both; but she will not allow that she is +either. On one subject she is impenetrable: a hundred, a thousand +different ways within these four-and-twenty hours have I led to it, with +all the ingenuity and all the delicacy of which I am mistress; but all +to no purpose. Neither by provocation, persuasion, laughing, teasing, +questioning, cross, or round about, pushing, squeezing, encompassing, +taking for granted, wondering, or blundering, could I gain my point. +Every look guarded--every syllable measured--yet unequivocal-- + + "She said no more than just the thing she ought." + +Because I could find no fault I was half angry. I respect the motive of +this reserve; but towards me it is misplaced, and ill-judged, and it +must not exist. I have often declared that I would never condescend to +play the part of a confidante to any princess or heroine upon earth. But +Leonora is neither princess nor heroine, and I would be her confidante, +but she will not let me. Now I am punished for my pride. If she would +only trust me, if she would only tell me what has passed since I went, +and all that now weighs upon her mind, I could certainly be of some use. +I could and would say everything that she might scruple to hint to Lady +Olivia, and I will answer for it I would make her raise the siege. But I +cannot believe Mr L---- to be such a madman as to think of attaching +himself seriously to a woman like Olivia, when he has such a wife as +Leonora. That he was amusing himself with Olivia I saw, or thought I +saw, some time ago, and I rather wondered that Leonora was uneasy: for +all husbands will flirt, and all wives must bear it, thought I. When +such a coquette as this fell in his way, and made advances, he would +have been more than man if he had receded. Of course, I thought, he must +despise and laugh at her all the time he was flattering and gallanting +her ladyship. This would have been fair play, and comic; but the comedy +should have ended by this time. I am now really afraid it will turn into +a tragedy. I, even I! am alarmed. I must prevail upon Leonora to speak +to me without reserve. I see her suffer, and I must share her grief. +Have not I always done so from the time we were children? and now, when +she most wants a friend, am not I worthy to share her confidence? Can +she mistake friendship for impertinent curiosity? Does not she know that +I would not be burthened with the secrets of anybody whom I did not +love? If she thinks otherwise, she does me injustice, and I will tell +her so before I sleep. She does not know how well I love her. + + * * * * * + +My dear Margaret, Leonora and I have had a quarrel--the first serious +quarrel we ever had in our lives; and the end of it is, that she is an +angel, and I am a fool. Just as I laid down my pen after writing to you, +though it was long past midnight, I marched into Leonora's apartment, +resolved to surprise or to force her confidence. I found her awake, as I +expected, and up and dressed, as I did not expect, sitting in her +dressing-room, her head leaning upon her hand. I knew what she was +thinking of; she had a heap of Mr L----'s old letters beside her. She +denied that she was in tears, and I will not swear to the tears, but I +think I saw signs of them notwithstanding. I spoke out;--but in +vain--all in vain. At last I flew into a passion, and reproached her +bitterly. She answered me with that air of dignified tenderness which is +peculiar to her--"If you believe me to be unhappy, my dear Helen, is +this a time to reproach me unjustly?" I was brought to reason and to +tears, and after asking pardon, like a foolish naughty child, was kissed +and forgiven, upon a promise never to do so any more; a promise, which I +hope Heaven will grant me grace and strength of mind enough to keep. I +was certainly wrong to attempt to force her secret from her. Leonora's +confidence is always given, never yielded; and in her, openness is a +virtue, not a weakness. But I wish she would not contrive to be always +in the right. In all our quarrels, in all the variations of my humour, I +am obliged to end by doing homage to her reason, as the Chinese +mariners, in every change of weather, burn incense before the needle. + + Your affectionate + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xli. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + L---- Castle, Friday. + + My dear General, + +I hoped that you would have favoured us with a passing visit in your way +from town, but I know you will tell me that friendship must not +interfere with the interests of the service. I have reason to curse +those interests; they are for ever at variance with mine. I had a +particular desire to speak to you upon a subject, on which it is not +agreeable to me to write. Lady Leonora also wished extremely and +disinterestedly for your company. She does not know how much she is +obliged to you. The laconic advice you gave me some time ago influenced +my conduct longer than counsel which is in opposition to our passions +usually does, and it has haunted my imagination perpetually:--"My dear +L----, do not end by being the dupe of a _Frenchified_ coquette." + +My dear friend, of that there is no danger. No man upon earth despises +or detests coquettes more than I do, be they French or English. I think, +however, that a foreign-born, or foreign-bred coquette, has more of the +ease of _practice_, and less of the awkwardness of conscience, than a +home-bred flirt, and is in reality less blamable, for she breaks no +restraints of custom or education; she does only what she has seen her +mother do before her, and what is authorized by the example of most of +the fashionable ladies of her acquaintance. But let us put flirts and +coquettes quite out of the question. My dear general, you know that I am +used to women, and take it upon my word, that the lady to whom I allude +is more tender and passionate than vain. Every woman has, or has had, a +tincture of vanity; but there are a few, and those are to me the most +amiable of the sex, who + + "Feel every vanity in fondness lost." + +You know that I am delicate, even fastidious, in my taste for female +manners. Nothing can in my opinion make amends for any offence against +propriety, except it be sensibility--genuine, generous sensibility. This +can, in my mind, cover a multitude of faults. There is so much of +selfishness, of hypocrisy, of coldness, in what is usually called female +virtue, that I often turn with distaste from those to whom I am +compelled to do homage for the sake of the general good of society. I am +not _charlatan_ enough to pretend upon all occasions to prefer the +public advantage to my own. I confess, that let a woman be ever so fair, +or good, or wise-- + + "Be she with that goodness blest + Which may merit name of best, + If she be not such to me, + What care I how good she be?" + +And I will further acknowledge, that I am not easily satisfied with the +manner in which a woman is kind to me: if it be duty-work kindness, I +would not give thanks for it: it is done for her reputation, not for me, +and let the world thank her. To _the best of wives_ I should make the +worst of husbands. No--I should, I hope, pay her in her own coin, with +all due observances, attentions, and respect, but without one grain of +love. Love is only to be had for love; and without it, nothing a woman +can give appears to me worth having. I do not desire to be loved well +enough to satisfy fathers and mothers, and uncles and aunts; well enough +to decide a woman to marry me rather than disoblige her friends, or run +the chance of having _many a worse offer_, and living perhaps to be an +old maid. I do not desire to be loved well enough to keep a woman true +and faithful to me "_till death us do part_:" in short, I do not desire +to be loved well enough for a husband; I desire to be loved sufficiently +for a lover; not only above all other persons, but above all other +things, all other considerations--to be the first and last object in +the heart of the woman to whom I am attached: I wish to feel that I +sustain and fill the whole of her heart. I must be certain that I am +everything to her, as she is everything to me; that there is no +imaginable situation in which she would not live with me, in which she +would not be happy to live with me; no possible sacrifice that she would +not make for me; or rather, that nothing she could do should appear a +sacrifice. Are these exorbitant expectations? I am capable of all this, +and more, for a woman I love; and it is my pride or my misfortune to be +able to love upon no other terms. Such proofs of attachment it may be +difficult to obtain, and even to give; more difficult, I am sensible, +for a wife than for a mistress. A young lady who is married _secundum +artem_, with licence and consent of friends, can give no extraordinary +instances of affection. I should not consider it as an indisputable +proof of love, that she does me the honour to give me her hand in a +church, or that she condescends to bespeak my liveries, or to be handed +into her own coach with all the blushing honours of a bride; all the +paraphernalia of a wife secured, all the prudent and necessary provision +made both for matrimonial love and hatred, dower, pin-money, and +separate maintenance on the one hand, and on the other, lands, +tenements, and hereditaments for the future son and heir, and sums +without end for younger children to the tenth and twentieth possibility, +_as the case may be, nothing herein contained to the contrary in anywise +notwithstanding_. Such a jargon Cupid does not understand. A woman may +love this most convenient personage, her lawful husband; but I should +think it difficult for the delicacy of female passion to survive the +cool preparations for hymeneal felicity. At all events, you will allow +the lady makes no sacrifice, she shows no great generosity, and she +may, or she may not, be touched at the altar by the divine flame. My +good general, when you are a husband you will feel these things as I do; +till then, it is very easy to talk as you do, and to admire other men's +wives, and to wish Heaven had blessed you with such a treasure. For my +part, the single idea, that a woman thinks it her duty to be fond of me, +would deprive me of all pleasure in her love. No man can be more +sensible than I am of the amiable and estimable qualities of Lady +Leonora L----; I should be a brute and a liar if I hesitated to give the +fullest testimony in her praise; but such is the infirmity of my nature, +that I could pardon some faults more easily than I could like some +virtues. The virtues which leave me in doubt of a woman's love I can +esteem, but that is all. Lady Leonora is calm, serene, perfectly +sweet-tempered, without jealousy and without suspicion; in one word, +without love. If she loved me, she never could have been the wife she +has been for some months past. You will laugh at my being angry with a +wife for not being jealous. But so it is. Certain defects of temper I +could bear, if I considered them as symptoms of strong affection. When I +for a moment believed that Leonora suffered, when I attributed her +fainting at our fete champetre to jealousy, I was so much alarmed and +touched, that I absolutely forgot her rival. I did more; to prevent her +feeling uneasiness, to destroy the suspicions which I imagined had been +awakened in her mind, I hesitated not to sacrifice all the pleasure and +all the vanity which a man of my age might reasonably be supposed to +feel in the prospect of a new and not inglorious conquest; I left home +immediately, and went to meet you, my dear friend, on your return from +abroad. This visit I do not set down to your account, but to that of +honour--foolish, unnecessary honour. You half-persuaded me, that your +hearsay Parisian evidence was more to be trusted than my own judgment, +and I returned home with the resolution not to be the dupe of a +coquette. Leonora's reception of me was delightful; I never saw her in +such spirits, or so amiable. But I could not help wishing to ascertain +whether I had attributed her fainting to the real cause. This proof I +tempted to my cost. Instead of showing any tender alarm at the renewal +of my obvious attentions to her rival, she was perfectly calm and +collected, went on with her usual occupations, fulfilled all her duties, +never reproached me by word or look, never for one moment betrayed +impatience, ill-humour, suspicion, or jealousy; in short, I found that I +had been fool enough to attribute to excess of affection an accident +which proceeded merely from the situation of her health. If anxiety of +mind had been the cause of her fainting at the fete champetre, she would +since have felt and shown agitation on a thousand occasions, where she +has been perfectly tranquil. Her friend Mrs C----, who returned here a +few days ago, seems to imagine that Leonora looks ill; but I shall not +again be led to mistake bodily indisposition for mental suffering. +Leonora's conduct argues great insensibility of soul, or great command; +great insensibility, I think: for I cannot imagine such command of +temper possible to any but a woman who feels indifference for the +offender. Yet, even now that I have steeled myself with this conviction, +I am scarcely bold enough to hazard the chance of giving her pain. +Absurd weakness! It has been clearly proved to my understanding, that my +irresolution, my scruples of conscience, my combats between love and +esteem, are more likely to betray the real state of my mind than any +decision that I could make. I decide, then--I determine to be happy +with a woman who has a soul capable of feeling, not merely what is +called conjugal affection, but the passion of love; who is capable of +sacrificing everything to love; who has given me proofs of candour and +greatness of mind, which I value far above all her wit, grace, and +beauty. My dear general, I know all that you can tell, all that you can +hint concerning her history abroad. I know it from her own lips. It was +told to me in a manner that made her my admiration. It was told to me as +a preservative against the danger of loving her. It was told to me with +the generous design of protecting Leonora's happiness; and all this at +the moment when I was beloved, tenderly beloved. She is above +dissimulation: she scorns the arts, the fears of her sex. She knows you +are her enemy, and yet she esteems you; she urged me to speak to you +with the utmost openness: "Let me never," said she, "be the cause of +your feeling less confidence or less affection for the best of friends." + +R*** is sacrificed to me; that R***, with whose cursed name you +tormented me. My dear friend, she will force your admiration, as she has +won my love. + + Yours sincerely, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter xlij. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B._ + + + L---- Castle. + +As I am not trusted with the secret, I may, my dear Margaret, use my own +eyes and ears as I please to find it out; and I know Leonora's +countenance so well, that I see everything that passes in her mind just +as clearly as if she had told it to me in words. + +It grieves me more than I can express, to see her suffering as she +does. I am now convinced that she has reason to be unhappy; and, what is +worse, I do not see what course she can follow to recover her happiness. +All her forbearance, all her patience, all her sweet temper, I perceive, +are useless, or worse than useless, injurious to her in her strange +husband's opinion. I never liked him thoroughly, and now I detest him. +He thinks her cold, insensible! She insensible!--Brute! Idiot. +Everything that she says or does displeases him. The merest trifles +excite the most cruel suspicions. He totally misunderstands her +character, and sees everything about her in a false light. In short, he +is under the dominion of an artful fiend, who works as she pleases upon +his passions--upon his pride, which is his ruling passion. + +This evening Lady Olivia began confessing that she had too much +sensibility, that she was of an excessively susceptible temper, and that +she should be terribly jealous of the affections of any person she +loved. She did not know how love _could_ exist without jealousy. Mr +L---- was present, and listening eagerly. Leonora's lips were silent; +not so her countenance. I was in hopes Mr L---- would have remarked its +beautiful touching expression; but his eyes were fixed upon Olivia. I +could have . . . but let me go on. Lady Olivia had the malice suddenly +to appeal to Leonora, and asked, whether she was never jealous of her +husband? Leonora, astonished by her assurance, paused for an instant, +and then replied, "It would be difficult to convince me that I had any +reason to be jealous of Mr L----, I esteem him so much."--"I wish to +Heaven!" exclaimed Lady Olivia, her eyes turned upwards with a fine St +Cecilia expression, whilst Mr L----'s attention was fixed upon her, +"would to Heaven I was blessed with such a _reasonable_ temper!"--"When +you are wishing to Heaven, Lady Olivia," said I, "had not you better ask +for _all you want_ at once; not only such a reasonable temper, but such +a feeling heart?" + +Some of the company smiled. Lady Olivia, practised as she is, looked +disconcerted; Mr L---- grave and impenetrable; Leonora, blushing, turned +away to the pianoforte. Mr L---- remained talking with Lady Olivia, and +he neither saw nor heard her. If Leonora had sung like an angel, it +would have made no impression. She turned over the leaves of her music +quickly, to a lively air, and played it immediately, to prevent my +perceiving how much she felt. Poor Leonora! you are but a bad +dissembler, and it is in vain to try to conceal yourself from me. + +I was so sorry for her, and so incensed with Olivia this night, that I +could not restrain myself, and I made matters worse. At supper I came +almost to open war with her ladyship. I cannot remember exactly what I +said, but I know that I threw out the most severe inuendoes which +politeness could permit: and what _was_ the consequence? Mr L---- pitied +Olivia and hated me; Leonora was in misery the whole time; and her +husband probably thought that she was the instigator, though she was +perfectly innocent. My dear Margaret, where will all this end? and how +much more mischief shall I do with the best intentions possible? + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xliij. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +Your letter has travelled after me God knows where, my dear L----, and +has caught me at last with my foot in the stirrup. I have just had time +to look it over. I find, in short, that you are in love. I give you joy! +But be in love like a madman, not like a fool. Call a demirep an angel, +and welcome; but remember that such angels are to be had any day in the +year; and such a wife as yours is not to be had for the mines of +Golconda. Coin your heart, and drop your blood for it, and you will +never be loved by any other woman so well as you are by Lady Leonora +L----. + +As to your jealous hypochondriacism, more of that when I have more +leisure. In the meantime I wish it well cured. + + I am, my dear friend, + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xliv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +I triumph! dear Gabrielle, give me joy! Never was triumph more complete. +L---- loves me! That I knew long ago; but I have at last forced from his +proud heart the avowal of his passion. Love and Olivia are victorious +over scruples, prejudice, pride, and superstition! + +Leonora feels not--sees not: she requires, she excites no pity. Long may +her delusion last! But even were it this moment to dissipate, what cause +have I for remorse? "Who is most to blame, he who ceases to love, or she +who ceases to please?" Leonora perhaps thinks that she loves her +husband; and no doubt she does so in a conjugal sort of a way: he _has_ +loved his wife; but be it mine to prove that his heart is suited to far +other raptures; and if Olivia be called upon for sacrifices, _Olivia_ +can make them. + + "Let wealth, let honour wait the wedded dame, + August her deed, and sacred be her fame; + Before true passion all those views remove, + Fame, wealth, and honour, what are you to love?" + +These lines, though quoted perpetually by the tender and passionate, can +never become stale and vulgar; they will always recur in certain +situations to persons of delicate sensibility, for they at once express +all that can be said, and justify all that can be felt. My amiable +Gabrielle, adieu. Pardon me if to-day I have no soul even for +friendship. This day is all for love. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xlv. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +What the devil would you have of your wife, my dear L----? You would be +loved above all earthly considerations; honour, duty, virtue and +religion inclusive, would you? and you would have a wife with her head +in the clouds, would you? I wish you were married to one of the +all-for-love heroines, who would treat you with bowl and dagger every +day of your life. In your opinion sensibility covers a multitude of +faults--you would have said _sins_: so it had need, for it produces a +multitude. Pray what brings hundreds and thousands of women to the +Piazzas of Covent Garden but sensibility? What does the colonel's, and +the captain's, and the ensign's mistress talk of but _sensibility_? And +are you, my dear friend, to be duped by this hackneyed word? And should +you really think it an indisputable proof of a lady's love, that she +would jump out of a two pair of stairs window into your arms? Now I +should think myself sure of such a woman's love only just whilst I held +her, and scarcely then; for I, who in my own way am jealous as well as +yourself, should in this case be jealous of wickedness, and should +strongly suspect that she would love the first devil that she saw better +than me. + +You are always raving about sacrifices. Your Cupid must be a very +vindictive little god. Mine is a good-humoured, rosy little fellow, who +desires no better than to see me laugh and be happy. But to every man +his own Cupid. If you cannot believe in love without sacrifices, you +must have them, to be sure. And now, in sober sadness, what do you think +your heroine would sacrifice for you? Her reputation? that, pardon me, +is out of her power. Her virtue? I have no doubt she would. But before I +can estimate the value of this sacrifice, I must know whether she makes +it to you or to her pleasure. Would she give up in any instance her +pleasure for your happiness? This is not an easy matter to ascertain +with respect to a mistress: but your wife has put it beyond a doubt, +that she prefers your happiness not only to her pleasure, but to her +pride, and to everything that the sex usually prefer to a husband. You +have been wounded by a poisoned arrow; but you have a faithful wife who +can extract the poison. Lady Leonora's affection is not a mere fit of +goodness and generosity, such as I have seen in many women, but it is a +steadiness of attachment in the hour of trial, which I have seen in few. +For several months past you have, by your own account, put her temper +and her love to the most severe tests, yet she has never failed for one +moment, never reproached you by word or look.--But may be she has no +feeling.--No feeling! you can have none, if you say so: no penetration, +if you think so. Would not you think me a tyrant if I put a poor fellow +on the picket, and told you, when he bore it without a groan, that it +was because he could not feel? You do worse, you torture the soul of the +woman who loves you; she endures, she is calm, she smiles upon you even +in agony; and you tell me she cannot feel! she cannot feel like an +Olivia! No; and so much the better for her husband, for she will then +have only feeling enough for him, she will not extend her charity to all +his sex. But Olivia has such candour and magnanimity, that I must admire +her! I humbly thank her for offering to make me her confidant, for +offering to tell me what I know already, and what she is certain that I +know. These were good moves, but I understand the game as well as her +ladyship does. As to her making a friend of me; if she means an enemy to +Lady Leonora L----, I would sooner see her--in heaven: but if she would +do me the favour to think no more of your heart, which is too good for +her, and to accept of my--my--what shall I say?--my devoirs, I am at her +command. She shall drive my curricle, &c. &c. She would suit me vastly +well for a month or two, and by that time poor R*** would make his +appearance, or somebody in his stead: at the worst, I should have a +chance of some blessed metaphysical quirk, which would prove that +inconstancy was a virtue, or that a new love is better than an old one. +When it came to that, I should make my best bow, put on my most +disconsolate face, and retire. + +You will read all this in a very different spirit from that in which it +is written. If you are angry--no matter: I am cool. I tell you +beforehand that I will not fight you for anything I have said in this +letter, or that I ever may say about your Olivia. Therefore, my dear +L----, save yourself the trouble of challenging me. I thank God I have +reputation enough to be able to dispense with the glory of blowing out +your brains. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + Letter xlvi. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + +We have been very gay here the last few days: the gallant and +accomplished Prince ---- has been here. H****, the witty H****, who is +his favourite companion, introduced him; and he seems so much charmed +with the old castle, its towers and battlements, and with its +_cynosure_, that I know not when he will be able to prevail upon himself +to depart. To-morrow, he says; but so he has said these ten days: he +cannot resist the entreaties of his kind host and hostess to stay +another day. The soft accent of the beautiful Leonora will certainly +detain him _one day more_, and her gracious smile will bereave him of +rest for months to come. He has evidently fallen desperately in love +with her. Now we shall see virtue in danger. + +I have always been of opinion with St Evremond and Ninon de l'Enclos, +that no female virtue can stand every species of test; fortunately it is +not always exposed to trial. Reputation may be preserved by certain +persons in certain situations, upon very easy terms. Leonora, for +instance, is armed so strong in character, that no common mortal will +venture to attack her. It would be presumption little short of high +treason to imagine the fall of the Lady Leonora L----, the daughter of +the Duchess of ***, who, with a long line of immaculate baronesses in +their own right, each in her armour of stiff stays, stands frowning +defiance upon the adventurous knights. More alarming still to the modern +seducer appears a judge in his long wig, and a jury with their long +faces, ready to bring in their verdict, and to award damages +proportionate to the rank and fortune of the parties. Then the former +reputation of the lady is talked of, and the irreparable injury +sustained by the disconsolate husband from the loss of the solace and +affection of this paragon of wives. And it is proved that she lived in +the most perfect harmony with him till the vile seducer appeared; who, +in aggravation of damages, was a confidential friend of the husband's, +&c. &c. &c. &c. &c. + +Brave, indeed, and desperately in love must be the man, who could dare +all these to deserve the fair. But princes are, it is said, naturally +brave, and ambitious of conquering difficulties. + +I have insinuated these reflections in a general way to L----, who +applies them so as to plague himself sufficiently. Heaven is my witness, +that I mean no injury to Lady Leonora; yet I fear that there are +moments, when my respect for her superiority, joined to the +consciousness of my own weakness, overpowers me, and I almost envy her +the right she retains to the esteem of the man I love. This is a +blamable weakness--I know it--I reproach myself bitterly; but all I can +do is to confess it candidly. L---- sees my conflicts, and knows how to +value the sensibility of my fond heart. Adieu, my Gabrielle. When shall +I be happy? since even love has its torments, and I am thus doomed to be +ever a victim to the tenderness of my soul. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xlvij. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + +I do not know whether I pity, love, or admire Leonora most. Just when +her mind was deeply wounded by her husband's neglect, and when her +jealousy was worked to the highest pitch by his passion for her +dangerous rival, the Prince ---- arrives here, and struck by Leonora's +charms of mind and person, falls passionately in love with her. Probably +his highness's friend H---- had given him a hint of the existing +circumstances, and he thought a more propitious moment could scarcely be +found for making an impression upon a female mind. He judged of Leonora +by other women. And I, like a simpleton, judged of her by myself. With +shame I confess to you, my dear Margaret, that notwithstanding all my +past experience, I did expect that she would have done as I am afraid I +should have done in her situation. I think that I could not have +resisted the temptation of coquetting a little--a very little--just to +revive the passion of the man whom I really loved. This expedient +succeeds so often with that wise sex, who never rightly know the value +of a heart, except when they have just won it, or at the moment when +they are on the point of losing it. In Leonora's place and in such an +emergency, I should certainly have employed that frightful monster +jealousy to waken sleeping love; since he, and only he, can do it +expeditiously and effectually. This I have hinted to Leonora, talking +always _in generals_; for, since my total overthrow, I have never dared +to come to particulars: but by putting cases and _confessing myself_, I +contrived to make my thoughts understood. I then boasted of the extreme +facility of the means I would adopt to recover a heart. Leonora answered +in the words of a celebrated great man:--"C'est facile de se servir de +pareils moyens; c'est difficile de s'y resoudre." + +"But if no other means would succeed," said I, "would not you sacrifice +your pride to your love?" + +"My pride, willingly; but not my sense of what is right," said she, with +an indescribable mixture of tenderness and firmness in her manner. + +"Can a little coquetry in a good cause be such a heinous offence?" +persisted I. I knew that I was wrong all the time; but I delighted in +seeing how right she was. + +No--she would not allow her mind to be cheated by female sophistry; nor +yet by the male casuistry of, "The end sanctifies the means." + +"If you had the misfortune to lose the affections of the man you love, +and if you were quite certain of regaining them by following my recipe?" +said I. + +Never shall I forget the look with which Leonora left me, and the accent +with which she said, "My dear Helen, if it were ever to be my misfortune +to lose my husband's love, I would not, even if I were certain of +success, attempt to regain it by any unworthy arts. How could I wish to +regain his love at the hazard of losing his esteem, and the certainty of +forfeiting my own!" + +I said no more--I had nothing more to say: I saw that I had given pain, +and I have never touched upon the subject since. But her practice is +even beyond her theory. Never, by deed, or look, or word, or thought +(for I see all her thoughts in her eloquent countenance), has she +swerved from her principles. No prudery--no coquetry--no +mock-humility--no triumph. Never for an instant did she, by a proud air, +say to her husband--See what others think of me! Never did a resentful +look say to him--Inconstant!--revenge is in my power! Never even did a +reproachful sigh express--I am injured, yet I do not retaliate. + +Mr L---- is blind; he is infatuated; he is absolutely bereaved of +judgment by a perfidious, ungrateful, and cruel wretch. Let me vent my +indignation to you, dear Margaret, or it will explode, perhaps, when it +may do Leonora mischief. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter xlviij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +This Lady Leonora, in her simplicity, never dreamed of love till the +prince's passion was too visible and audible to be misunderstood: and +then she changed her tone, and checked her simplicity, and was so +reserved, and so dignified, and so _proper_, it was quite edifying, +especially to a poor sinner of a coquette like me; nothing _piquante_; +nothing _agacante_; nothing _demi-voilee_; no retiring to be pursued; +not a single manoeuvre of coquetry did she practise. This convinces me +that she cares not in the least for her husband; because, if she really +loved him, and wished to reclaim his heart, what so natural or so simple +as to excite his jealousy, and thus revive his love? After neglecting +this golden opportunity, she can never convince me that she is really +anxious about her husband's heart. This I hinted to L----, and his own +susceptibility had hinted it to him efficaciously before I spoke. + +Though Leonora has been so correct hitherto, and so cold to the prince +in her husband's presence, I have my suspicions, that if in his absence +proper means were taken, if her pride were roused by apt suggestions, if +it were delicately pointed out to her that she is shamefully neglected, +that she is a cipher in her own house, that her husband presumes too +much upon her sweetness of temper, that his inconstancy is wondered at +by all who have eyes, and that a little retaliation might become her +ladyship, I would not answer for her forbearance, that is to say, if all +this were done by a dexterous man, a lover, and a prince! I shall take +care my opinions shall be known; for I cannot endure to have the esteem +of the man I love monopolized. Exposed to temptation as I have been, and +with as ardent affections, Leonora, or I am much mistaken, would not +have been more estimable. Adieu, my dearest Gabrielle. Nous verrons! +nous verrons! + + Olivia. + + * * * * * + + Sunday evening. + +P.S.--I open my letter to tell you that the prince is actually gone. +Doubtless he will return at a more auspicious moment. + +Lady M---- and all the troop of friends are to depart on Monday; all but +_the_ bosom friend, _l'amie intime_, that insupportable Helen, who is +ever at daggers-drawing with me. So much the better! L---- sees her +cabals with his wife; she is a partisan without the art to be so to any +purpose, and her manoeuvres tend only to increase his partiality for his +Olivia. + + + + + Letter xlix. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +* * * * * * * +* * * * * In short, Leonora has discovered all that she +might have seen months ago between her husband and me. What will be the +consequence? I long, yet almost fear, to meet her again. She is now in +her own apartment, writing, I presume, to her mother for advice. + + + + + Letter l. + + _Leonora to Olivia._ + + + [Left on Lady Olivia's dressing-table.] + +O you, whom no kindness can touch, whom no honour can bind, whom no +faith can hold, enjoy the torments you have inflicted on me! enjoy the +triumph of having betrayed a confiding friend! Friend no more--affect, +presume no longer to call me friend! I am under no necessity to +dissemble, and dissimulation is foreign to my habits, and abhorrent to +my nature! I know you to be my enemy, and I say so--my most cruel enemy; +one who could, without reluctance or temptation, rob me of all I hold +most dear. Yes, without temptation; for you do not love my husband, +Olivia. On this point I cannot be mistaken; I know too well what it is +to love him. Had you been struck by his great or good and amiable +qualities, charmed by his engaging manners, or seduced by the violence +of his passion; and had I seen you honourably endeavour to repress that +passion; had I seen in you the slightest disposition to sacrifice your +pleasure or your vanity to friendship or to duty, I think I could have +forgiven, I am sure I should have pitied you. But you felt no pity for +me, no shame for yourself; you made no attempt to avoid, you invited +the danger. Mr L---- was not the deceiver, but the deceived. By every +art and every charm in your power--and you have many--you won upon his +senses and worked upon his imagination; you saw, and made it your pride +to conquer the scruples of that affection he once felt for his wife, and +that wife was your friend. By passing bounds, which he could not +conceive that any woman could pass, except in the delirium of passion, +you made him believe that your love for him exceeds all that I feel. How +he will find himself deceived! If you had loved him as I do, you could +not so easily have forfeited all claim to his esteem. Had you loved him +so much, you would have loved honour more. + +It is possible that Mr L---- may taste some pleasure with you whilst his +delusion lasts, whilst his imagination paints you, as mine once did, in +false colours, possessed of generous virtues, and the victim of +excessive sensibility: but when he sees you such as you are, he will +recoil from you with aversion, he will reject you with contempt. + +Knowing my opinion of you, Lady Olivia, you will not choose to remain in +this house; nor can I desire for my guest one whom I can no longer, in +private or in public, make my companion. Adieu. + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter li. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + L---- Castle, Midnight. + +Farewell for ever!--it must be so--Farewell for ever! Would to Heaven I +had summoned courage sooner to pronounce these fatal, necessary, +irrevocable words: then had I parted from you without remorse, without +the obloquy to which I am now exposed. Oh, my dearest L----! Mine, do I +still dare to call you? Yes, mine for the last time, I must call you, +mine I must fancy you, though for the impious thought the Furies +themselves were to haunt me to madness. My dearest L----, never more +must we meet in this world! Think not that my weak voice alone forbids +it: no, a stronger voice than mine is heard--an injured wife reclaims +you. What a letter have I just received . . .!--from . . . Leonora! She +tells me that she no longer desires for her guest one whom she cannot, +in public or private, make her companion--O Leonora, it was sufficient +to banish me from your heart! She tells me not only that I have for ever +forfeited her confidence, her esteem, her affection; but that I shall +soon be your aversion and contempt. O cruel, cruel words! But I +submit--I have deserved it all--I have robbed her of a heart above all +price. Leonora, why did you not reproach me more bitterly? I desire, I +implore to be crushed, to be annihilated by your vengeance! Most +admirable, most virtuous, most estimable of women, best of wives, I have +with sacrilegious love profaned a soul consecrated to you and conjugal +virtue. I acknowledge my crime; trample upon me as you will, I am +humbled in the dust. More than all your bitterest reproaches do I feel +the remorse of having for a moment interrupted such serenity of +happiness. + +Oh, why did you persuade me, L----, and why did I believe that Leonora +was calm and free from all suspicion? How could I believe that any +woman whom you had ever loved, could remain blind to your inconstancy, +or feel secure indifference? Happy woman! in you to love is not a crime; +you may glory in your passion, whilst I must hide mine from every human +eye, drop in shameful secrecy the burning tear, stifle the struggling +sigh, blush at the conflicts of virtue and sensibility, and carry shame +and remorse with me to the grave. Happy Leonora! happy even when most +injured, you have a right to complain to him you love;--he is yours--you +are his wife--his esteem, his affection are yours. On Olivia he has +bestowed but a transient thought, and eternal ignominy must be her +portion. So let it be--so I wish it to be. Would to Heaven I may thus +atone for the past, and secure your future felicity. Fly to her, my +dearest L----, I conjure you! throw yourself at her feet, entreat, +implore, obtain her forgiveness. She cannot refuse it to your tears, to +your caresses. To withstand them she must be more or less than woman. +No, she cannot resist your voice when it speaks words of peace and love; +she will press you with transport to her heart, and Olivia, poor Olivia, +will be for ever forgotten; yet she will rejoice in your felicity; +absolved perhaps in the eye of Heaven, though banished from your +society, she will die content. + +Full well am I aware of the consequences of quitting thus precipitately +the house of Lady Leonora L----; but nothing that concerns myself alone +can for a moment make me hesitate to do that which the sentiment of +virtue dictates, and which is yet more strongly urged by regard for the +happiness of one, who once allowed me to call her friend. I know my +reputation is irrecoverably sacrificed; but it is to one for whom I +would lay down my life. Can a woman who feels as I do deem any earthly +good a sacrifice for him she loves? Dear L----, adieu for ever! + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lij. + + _Leonora to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Dearest Mother, + + +It is all over--my husband is gone--gone perhaps for ever--all is in +vain--all is lost! + +Without saying more to you than I ought, I may tell you, that in +consequence of an indignant letter which I wrote last night to Lady +Olivia, she left my house this morning early, before any of the family +were up. Mr L---- heard of her departure before I did. He has, I will +not say followed her, for of that I am not certain; but he has quitted +home, and without giving me one kind look at parting, without even +noticing a letter which I left last night upon his table. At what slight +things we catch to save us from despair! How obstinate, how vain is +hope! I fondly hoped, even to the last moment, that this letter, this +foolish letter, would work a sudden change in my husband's heart, would +operate miracles, would restore me to happiness. I fancied, absurdly +fancied, that laying open my whole soul to him would have an effect upon +his mind. Alas! has not my whole soul been always open to him? Could +this letter tell him anything but what he knows already or what he will +never know--how well I love him! I was weak to expect so much from it; +yet as it expressed without complaint the anguish of disappointed +affection, it deserved at least some acknowledgment. Could not he have +said, "My dear Leonora, I thank you for your letter"?--or more coldly +still--"Leonora, I have received your letter"? Even that would have been +some relief to me: but now all is despair. I saw him just when he was +going away, but for a moment; till the last instant he was not to be +seen; then, in spite of all his command of countenance, I discerned +strong marks of agitation; but towards me an air of resentment, more +than any disposition to kinder thoughts. I fancy that he scarcely knew +what he said, nor, I am sure, did I. He talked, I remember, of having +immediate business in town, and I endeavoured to believe him. Contrary +to his usual composed manner, he was in such haste to be gone, that I +was obliged to send his watch and purse after him, which he had left on +his dressing-table. How melancholy his room looked to me! His clothes +just as he had left them--a rose which Lady Olivia gave him yesterday +was in water on his table. My letter was not there; so he has it, +probably unread. He will read it some time or other, perhaps--and some +time or other, perhaps, when I am dead and gone, he will believe I loved +him. Could he have known what I felt at the moment when he turned from +me, he would have pitied me; for his nature, his character, cannot be +quite altered in a few months, though he has ceased to love Leonora. +From the window of his own room I watched for the last glimpse of +him--heard him call to the postilions, and bid them "drive +fast--faster." This was the last sound I heard of his voice. When shall +I hear that voice again? I think that I shall certainly hear from him +the day after to-morrow--and I wish to-day and to-morrow were gone. + +I am afraid that you will think me very weak; but, my dear mother, I +have no motive for fortitude now; and perhaps it might have been better +for me, if I had not exerted so much. I begin to fear that all my +fortitude is mistaken for indifference. Something Mr L---- said the +other day about sensibility and sacrifices gave me this idea. +Sensibility!--It has been my hard task for some months past to repress +mine, that it might not give pain or disgust. I have done all that my +reason and my dearest mother counselled; surely I cannot have done +wrong. How apt we are to mistake the opinion or the taste of the man we +love for the rule of right! Sacrifices! What sacrifices can I make?--All +that I have, is it not his?--My whole heart, is it not his?--Myself, all +that I am, all that I _can_ be? Have I not left with him of late, +without recalling to his mind the idea that I suffer by his neglect? +Have I not lived his heart at liberty, and can I make a greater +sacrifice? I really do not understand what he means by sacrifices. A +woman who loves her husband is part of him; whatever she does for him is +for herself. I wish he would explain to me what he can mean by +sacrifices--but when will he ever again explain his thoughts and +feelings to me? + +My dearest mother, it has been a relief to my mind to write all this to +you; if there is no sense in it, you will forgive and encourage me by +your affection and strength of mind, which, in all situations, have such +power to soothe and support your daughter. + +The Prince ----, who spent a fortnight here, paid me particular +attention. + +The prince talked of soon paying us another visit. If he should, I will +not receive him in Mr L----'s absence. This may seem like vanity or +prudery; but no matter what it appears, if it is right. + +Well might you, my best friend, bid me beware of forming an intimacy +with an unprincipled woman. I have suffered severely for neglecting your +counsels; how much I have still to endure is yet to be tried: but I can +never be entirely miserable whilst I possess, and whilst I hope that I +deserve, the affection of such a mother. + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter liij. + + _The Duchess of ---- to her daughter._ + + +If my approbation and affection can sustain you in this trying +situation, your fortitude will not forsake you, my beloved daughter. +Great minds rise in adversity; they are always equal to the trial, and +superior to injustice: betrayed and deserted, they feel their own force, +and they rely upon themselves. Be yourself, my Leonora! Persevere as you +have begun, and, trust me, you will be happy. I abide by my first +opinion, I repeat my prophecy--your husband's esteem, affection, love, +will be permanently yours. Change of circumstances, however alarming, +cannot shake the fixed judgment of my understanding. Character, as you +justly observe, cannot utterly change in a few months. Your husband is +deceived, he is now as one in the delirium of a fever: he will recover +his senses, and see Lady Olivia and you such as you are. + +You do not explain, and I take it for granted you have good reasons for +not explaining to me more fully, the immediate cause of your letter to +Lady Olivia. I am sorry that any cause should have thrown her upon the +protection of Mr L----; for a man of honour and generosity feels himself +bound to treat with tenderness a woman who appears to sacrifice +everything for his sake. Consider this in another point of view, and it +will afford you subject of consolation; for it is always a consolation +to good minds to think those whom they love less to blame than they +appear to be. You will be more calm and patient when you reflect that +your husband's absence may be prolonged by a mistaken sense of honour. +From the nature of his connexion with Lady Olivia it cannot last long. +Had she saved appearances, and engaged him in a sentimental affair, it +might have been far more dangerous to your happiness. + +I entirely approve of your conduct with respect to the prince: it is +worthy of my child, and just what I should have expected from her. The +artifices of coquettes, and all the _art_ of love is beneath her; she +has far other powers and resources, and need not strive to maintain her +dignity by vengeance. I admire your magnanimity, and I still more admire +your good sense; for high spirit is more common in our sex than good +sense. Few know how and when they should sacrifice small considerations +to great ones. You say that you will not receive the prince in your +husband's absence, though this may be attributed to prudery or vanity, +&c. &c. You are quite right. How many silly women sacrifice the +happiness of their lives to the idea of what women or men, as silly as +themselves, will say or think of their motives. How many absurd heroines +of romance, and of those who imitate them in real life, do we see, who +can never act with common sense or presence of mind: if a man's carriage +breaks down, or his horse is tired at the end of their avenues, or for +some such ridiculous reason, they must do the very reverse of all they +know to be prudent. Perpetually exposed, by a fatal concurrence of +circumstances, to excite the jealousy of their lovers and husbands, they +create the necessity to which they fall a victim. I rejoice that I +cannot feel any apprehension of my daughter's conducting herself like +one of these novel-bred ladies. + +I am sorry, my dear, that Lady M---- and your friends have left you: +yet even in this there may be good. Your affairs will be made less +public, and you will be less the subject of impertinent curiosity. I +advise you, however, to mix as much as usual with your neighbours in the +country: your presence, and the dignity of your manners, will impose +silence upon idle tongues. No wife of real spirit solicits the world for +compassion: she who does not court popularity ensures respect. + +Adieu, my dearest child: the time will come when your husband will feel +the full merit of your fortitude; when he will know how to distinguish +between true and false sensibility; between the love of an Olivia and of +a Leonora. + + + + + Letter liv. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + Jan. 26. + + My dear Margaret, + +I shall never forgive myself. I fear I have done Leonora irreparable +injury; and, dear magnanimous sufferer, she has never reproached me! In +a fit of indignation and imprudent zeal I made a discovery, which has +produced a total breach between Leonora and Lady Olivia, and in +consequence of this Mr L---- has gone off with her ladyship * * * * * * +* * * * * * We have heard nothing from Mr L---- since his departure, and +Leonora is more unhappy than ever, and my imprudence is the cause of +this. Yet she continues to love me. She is an angel! I have promised her +not to mention her affairs in future even in any of my letters to you, +dear Margaret. Pray quiet any reports you may hear, and stop idle +tongues. + + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter lv. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + Richmond. + + My dear Friend, + +I do not think I could have borne with temper from any other man +breathing the last letter which I received from you. I am sensible that +it was written with the best intentions for my happiness; but I must now +inform you, that the lady in question has accepted of my protection, and +consequently no man who esteems me can treat her with disrespect. + +It is no longer a question, what she will sacrifice for me; she has +shown the greatest generosity and tenderness of soul; and I should +despise myself, if I did not exert every power to make her happy.--We +are at Richmond: but if you write, direct to me at my house in town. + + Yours sincerely, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lvi. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +Dream your dream out, my dear L----. Since you are angry with me, as +Solander was with Sir Joseph Banks for awakening him, I shall not take +the liberty of shaking you any more. I believe I shook you rather too +roughly: but I assure you it was for your good, as people always tell +their friends when they do the most disagreeable things imaginable. +Forgive me, and I will let you dream in peace. You will however allow +me to watch by you whilst you sleep; and, my dear somnambulist, I may +just take care that you do not knock your head against a post, or fall +into a well. + +I hope you will not have any objection to my paying my respects to Lady +Olivia when I come to town, which, I flatter myself, I shall be able to +do shortly. The fortifications here are almost completed. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + Letter lvij. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + Richmond, ----. + +Happy!--No, my dear Gabrielle, nor shall I ever be happy, whilst I have +not exclusive possession of the heart of the man I love. I have +sacrificed everything to him; I have a right to expect that he should +sacrifice at least a wife for me--a wife whom he only esteems. But L---- +has not sufficient strength of mind to liberate himself from the cobwebs +which restrain those who talk of conscience, and who, in fact, are only +superstitious. I see with indignation, that his soul is continually +struggling between passion for me and a something, I know not what to +call it, that he feels for this wife. His thoughts are turning towards +home. I believe that to an Englishman's ears there is some magic in the +words _home_ and _wife_. I used to think foreigners ridiculous for +associating the ideas of milord Anglois with roast beef and pudding; but +I begin to see that they are quite right, and that an Englishman has a +certain set of inveterate _homely_ prejudices, which are necessary to +his well-being, and almost to his existence. You may entice him into the +land of sentiment, and for a time keep him there; but refine and polish +and enlighten him as you will, he recurs to his own plain sense, as he +terms it, on the first convenient opportunity. In short, it is lost +labour to civilize him, for sooner or later he will _hottentot_ again. +Pray introduce that term, Gabrielle--_you_ can translate it. For my +part, I can introduce nothing here; my maniere d'etre is really +insupportable; my talents are lost; I, who am accustomed to shine in +society, see nobody; I might, as Josephine every day observes, as well +be buried alive. Retirement and love are charming; but then it must be +perfect love--not the equivocating sort that L----feels for me, which +keeps the word of promise only to the ear. I bear every sort of +desagrement for him; I make myself a figure for the finger of scorn to +point at, and he insults me with esteem for a wife. Can you conceive +this, my amiable Gabrielle?--No, there are ridiculous points in the +characters of my countrymen which you will never be able to comprehend. +And what is still more incomprehensible, it is my fate to love this man; +yes, passionately to love him!--But he must give me proof of reciprocal +passion. I have too much spirit to sacrifice everything for him, who +will sacrifice nothing for me. Besides, I have another motive. To you, +my faithful Gabrielle, I open my whole heart.--Pride inspires me as well +as love. I am resolved that Leonora, the haughty Leonora, shall live to +repent of having insulted and exasperated Olivia. In some situations +contempt can be answered only by vengeance; and when the malice of a +contracted and illiberal mind provokes it, revenge is virtue. Leonora +has called me her enemy, and consequently has made me such. 'Tis she has +declared the war! 'tis for me to decide the victory! + +L----, I know, has the offer of an embassy to Petersburg.--He shall +accept it.--I will accompany him thither. Lady Leonora may, in his +absence, console herself with her august counsellor and mother:--that +proudest of earthly paragons is yet to be taught the extent of Olivia's +power. Adieu, my charming Gabrielle! I will carry your tenderest +remembrances to our brilliant Russian princess. She has often invited +me, you know, to pay her a visit, and this will be the ostensible object +of my journey. A horrible journey, to be sure!!!--But what will not love +undertake and accomplish, especially when goaded by pride, and +inspirited by great revenge? + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lviij. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + +Victim to the delusions of passion, too well I know my danger, and now, +even now foresee my miserable fate. Too well I know that the delicious +poison which spreads through my frame exalts, entrances, but to destroy. +Too well I know that the meteor fire, which shines so bright on my path, +entices me forward but to plunge me in the depths of infamy. The long +warnings of recorded time teach me, that perjured man triumphs, +disdains, and abandons. Too well, alas! I know these fatal truths; too +well I feel my approaching doom. Yet, infatuated as I am, prescience +avails not; the voice of prudence warns, the hand of Heaven beckons me +in vain. + +My friend! my more than friend, my lover! beloved beyond expression! you +to whom I immolate myself, you for whom I sacrifice more than life, O +whisper words of peace! for you, and you alone, can tranquillize this +agitated bosom. Assure me, L----, if with truth you can assure me, that +I have no rival in your affections. O tell me that the name of wife +does not invalidate the claims of love! Repeat for me, a thousand times +repeat, that I am sole possessor of your heart! + +The moment you quit me I am overpowered with melancholy forebodings. +Scarcely are you out of my sight, before I dread that I should never see +you more, or that some fatality should deprive me of your love. When +shall the sails of love waft us from this dangerous shore? O! when shall +I dare to call you mine? Heavens! how many things may intervene. . . . +Let nothing detain you from Richmond this evening; but come not at +all--come no more, unless to reassure my trembling heart, and to +convince me that love and Olivia have banished every other image. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lix. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + My dear General, + +I am come to a resolution to accept of that embassy to Russia which I +lately refused. My mind has been in such constant anxiety for some time +past, that my health has suffered, and change of air and place are +necessary to me. You will say, that the climate of Russia is a strange +choice for an invalid: I could indeed have wished for a milder; but in +this world we must be content with the least of two evils. I wish to +have some ostensible reason for going abroad, and this embassy is the +only one that presents itself in an unquestionable shape. Anything is +better than staying where I am, and _as_ I am. My motives are not so +entirely personal and selfish as I have stated them. A man who has a +grain of feeling cannot endure to see the woman whom he loves, whose +only failing is her love, living in a state of dereliction, exposed to +the silent scorn of her equals and inferiors, if not to open insult. All +her fine talents, every advantage of nature and education sacrificed, +and her sensibility to shame a perpetual source of misery. A man must be +a brute if he do not feel for a woman whose affection for him has +reduced her to this situation. My delicacy as to female manners, and the +high value I set upon public opinion in all that concerns the sex, make +me peculiarly susceptible and wretched in my present circumstances. To +raise the drooping spirits, and support the self-approbation of a woman, +who is conscious that she has forfeited her claim to respect--to make +love supply the place of all she has sacrificed to love, is a difficult +and exquisitely painful task. My feelings render hers more acute, and +the very precautions which I take, however delicate, alarm and wound her +pride, by reminding her of all she wishes to forget. In this country no +woman, who is not lost to shame, can bear to live without +reputation.----I pass over a great many intermediate ideas, my dear +general; your sense and feeling will supply them. You see the +expediency, the necessity of my accepting this embassy. Olivia urges, +how can I refuse it? She wishes to accompany me. She made this offer +with such decision of spirit, with such passionate tenderness, as +touched me to the very soul. A woman who really loves absolutely devotes +herself, and becomes insensible to every difficulty and danger; to her +all parts of the world are like; all she fears is to be separated from +the object of her affections. + +But the very excess of certain passions proves them to be genuine. Even +whilst we blame the rashness of those who act from the enthusiasm of +their natures, whilst we foresee all the perils to which they seem +blind, we tremble at their danger, we grow more and more interested for +them every moment, we admire their courage, we long to snatch them from +their fate, we are irresistibly hurried along with them down the +precipice. + +But why do I say all this to you, my dear general? To no man upon earth +could it be more ineffectually addressed. Let me see you, however, +before we leave England. It would be painful to me to quit this country +without taking leave of you, notwithstanding all that you have lately +done to thwart my inclinations, and notwithstanding all I may expect you +to say when we meet. Probably I shall be detained here some weeks, as I +must wait for instructions from our court. I write this day to Lady +Leonora, to inform her that I am appointed ambassador to Russia. She +shall have all the honours of war; she shall be treated with all the +respect to which she is so well entitled. I suppose she will wish to +reside with her mother during my absence. She cannot do better: she will +then be in the most eligible situation, and I shall be relieved from all +anxiety upon her account. She will be perfectly happy with her mother. I +have often thought that she was much happier before she married me than +she has been since our union. + +I have some curiosity to know whether she will see the prince when I am +gone. Do not mistake me; I am not jealous: I have too little love, and +too much esteem for Leonora, to feel the slightest jealousy. I have no +doubt, that if I were to stay in Russia for ten years, and if all the +princes and potentates in Europe were to be at her feet, my wife would +conduct herself with the most edifying propriety: but I am a little +curious to know how far vanity or pride can console a virtuous woman for +the absence of love. + + Yours truly, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lx. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +You are really decided then to go to Russia, my amiable friend, and you +will absolutely undertake this horrible voyage! And you are not +intimidated by the idea of the immense distance between Petersburg and +Paris! Alas! I had hoped soon to see you again. The journey from my +convent to Paris was the longest and most formidable that I ever +undertook, and at this moment it appears to me terrible; you may +conceive therefore my admiration of your courage and strength of mind, +my dear Olivia, who are going to brave the ocean, turning your back on +Paris, and every moment receding from our polished centre of attraction, +to perish perhaps among mountains of ice. Mon Dieu! it makes me shudder +to think of it. But if it pleases Heaven that you should once arrive at +Petersburg, you will crown your tresses with diamonds, you will envelop +yourself with those superb furs of the north, and smiling at all the +dangers you have passed, you will be yourself a thousand times more +dangerous than they. You, who have lived so long at Paris, who speak our +language in all its shades of elegance; you, who have divined all our +secrets of pleasing, who have caught our very air, + + "Et la grace, encore plus belle que la beaute;" + +you, who are absolutely a French woman, and a Parisian, what a sensation +you will produce at Petersburg!--Quels succes vous attendent!--Quels +hommages! + +You will have the goodness to offer my tenderest sentiments, and the +assurances of my perfect respect, to our dear princess; you will also +find the proper moment to remind her of the promise she made to send me +specimens of the fine ermines and sables of her country. For my part, I +used to be, I confess, in a great error with respect to furs: I always +acknowledged them to be rich, but avoided them as heavy; I considered +them as fitter for the stiff magnificence of an empress of all the +Russias than for the light elegance of a Parisian beauty; but our +charming princess convinced me that this is a heresy in taste. When I +beheld the grace with which she wore her ermine, and the art with which +she knew how to vary its serpent folds as she moved, or as she spoke; +the variety it gave to her costume and attitudes; the development it +afforded to a fine hand and arm, the resource in the pauses of +conversation, and that soft and attractive air which it seemed to impart +even to the play of her wit, I could no longer refuse my homage to +ermine. Such is the despotism of beauty over all the objects of taste +and fashion; and so it is, that a woman of sense, address, and +sentiment, let her be born or thrown by fate where she may, will always +know how to avail herself of every possible advantage of nature and art. +Nothing will be too trifling or too vast for her genius. + +I must make you understand me, my dear Olivia; your Gabrielle is not so +frivolous as simpletons imagine. Frivolity is an excellent, because an +unsuspected mask, under which serious and important designs may be +safely concealed. I would explain myself further, but must now go to the +opera to see the new ballet. Let me know, my interesting, my sublime +Olivia, when you are positively determined on your voyage to Petersburg; +and then you shall become acquainted with your friend as a politician. +Her friendship for you will not be confined to a mere intercourse of +sentiment, but will, if you have courage to second her views, give you a +secret yet decisive weight and consequence, of which you have hitherto +never dreamed.--Adieu.--These gentlemen are so impatient, I must go. +Burn the last page of this letter, and the whole of my next as soon as +you have read it, I conjure you, my dear. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxi. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Dear L----. + +I have time but to write one line to satisfy that philosophical +curiosity, which, according to your injunctions, I will not denominate +jealousy--except when I talk to myself. + +You have a philosophical curiosity to know whether your wife will see +the prince in your absence. I saw his favourite yesterday, who +complained to me, that his highness had been absolutely refused +admittance at your castle, notwithstanding he had made many ingenious +and some bold attempts to see Lady Leonora L---- in the absence of her +faithless husband. + +As to your scheme of going to Russia, you will be obliged, luckily, to +wait for some time for instruction, and in the interval, it is to be +hoped you will recover your senses. I shall see you as soon as possible. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxij. + + _Madame de P---- to Lady Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +As our vanity always endeavours to establish a balance between our own +perfections and those of our friends, I must flatter myself, my dear +Olivia, that in compensation for that courage and ardent imagination in +which you are so much my superior, I possess some little advantages over +you in my scientific, hereditary knowledge of court intrigue, and of the +arts of representation; all which will be necessary to you in your +character of ambassadress: you will in fact deserve this title, for of +course you will govern the English ambassador, whom you honour with your +love. And of course you will appear with splendour, and you will be +particularly careful to have your _traineau_ well appointed. Pray +remember that one of your horses must gallop, whilst the other trots, or +you are nobody. It will also be absolutely necessary to have a numerous +retinue of servants, because this suits the Russian idea of +magnificence. You must have, as the Russian nobles always had in Paris, +four servants constantly to attend your equipage; one to carry the +flambeau, another to open the door, and a couple to carry you into and +out of your carriage. I beseech you to bear in mind perpetually, that +you are to be as helpless as possible. A Frenchman of my acquaintance, +who spent nine years in Russia, told me, that in his first setting out +at Petersburg, he was put on his guard in this particular by a speech of +his Russian valet de chambre:--"Sir, the Englishman you visited to-day +cannot be worthy of your acquaintance; he cannot be a gentleman. Son +valet me dit qu'il se deshabille seul!!!" + +I suppose you take Josephine with you; she will be an inestimable +treasure; and I shall make it my business to send you the first advices +of Paris fashions, which her talents will not fail to comprehend and +execute. My charming Olivia! you will be the model of taste and +elegance! Do not suspect that dress is carrying me away from politics. +I assure you I know what I am about, and am going straight to my object. +The art of attending to trifles is the art of governing the world, as +all historians know, who have gone to the bottom of affairs. Was not the +face of Europe changed by a dish of tea thrown on Mrs Masham's gown, as +Voltaire with penetrating genius remarks? Women, without a doubt, +understand the importance of trifles better than men do, and +consequently always move in secret the slight springs of that vast +machine, the civilized world. Is not your ambition roused, my Olivia? +You must, however, lay aside a little of your romance, and not approach +the political machine whilst you are intoxicated with love, else you +will blunder infallibly, and do infinite and irreparable mischief to +yourself and your friends. + +Permit me to tell you, that you have been a little spoiled by +sentimental novels, which are good only to talk of when one must show +sensibility, but destructive as rules of action. By the false lights +which these writers, who know nothing of the world, have thrown upon +objects, you have been deluded; you have been led to mistake the means +for the end. Love has been with you the sole end of love; whereas it +ought to be the beginning of power. No matter for the past: the future +is yours: at our age this future must be dexterously managed. A woman of +spirit, and, what is better, of sense, must always take care that in her +heart the age of love is not prolonged beyond the age of being beloved. +In these times a woman has no choice at a certain period but politics, +or bel esprit; for devotion, which used to be a resource, is no longer +in fashion. We must all take a part, my dear; I assure you I have taken +mine decidedly, and I predict that you will take yours with brilliant +success. How often must one cry in the ears of lovers--Love must die! +must die! must die! But you, my dear Olivia, will not be deaf to the +warning voice of common sense. Your own experience has on former +occasions convinced you, that passion cannot be eternal; and at present, +if I mistake not, there is in your love a certain mixture of other +feelings, a certain alloy, which will make it happily ductile and +manageable. When your triumph over the wife is complete, passion for the +husband will insensibly decay; and this will be fortunate for you, +because assuredly your ambassador would not choose to remain all the +rest of his days in love and in exile at Petersburg. All these English +are afflicted with the maladie du pays; and, as you observe so well, the +words home and wife have ridiculous but unconquerable power over their +minds. What will become of you, my friend, when this Mr L----chooses to +return to England to his castle, &c.? You could not accompany him. You +must provide in time against this catastrophe, or you will be a +deserted, disgraced, undone woman, my dear friend. + +No one should begin to act a romance who has not well considered the +denouement. It is a charming thing to mount with a friend in a balloon, +amid crowds of spectators, who admire the fine spectacle, and applaud +the courage of the aerostats; the losing sight of this earth, and the +being in or above the clouds, must also be delightful: but the moment +will come when the travellers descend, and then begins the danger; then +they differ about throwing out the ballast, the balloon is rent in the +quarrel, it sinks with frightful rapidity, and they run the hazard, like +the poor Marquis d'Arlande, of being spitted upon the spire of the +Invalides, or of being entangled among woods and briers--at last, +alighting upon the earth, our adventurers, fatigued and bruised, and +disappointed, come out of their shattered triumphal car, exposed to the +derision of the changeable multitude. + +Everything in this world is judged of by success. Your voyage to +Petersburg, my dear Olivia, must not be a mere adventure of romance; as +a party of pleasure it would be ridiculous; we must make something more +of it. Enclosed is a letter to a Russian nobleman, an old lover of mine, +who I understand is in favour. He will certainly be at your command. He +is a man possessed by the desire of having reputation among foreigners, +vain of the preference of our sex, generous even to prodigality. By his +means you will be immediately placed on an easy footing with all the +leading persons of the Russian court. You will go on from one step to +another, till you are at the height which I have in view. Now for my +grand object.--No, not now--for I have forty little notes about nothings +to write this morning. Great things hang upon these nothings, so they +should not be neglected. I must leave you, my amiable Olivia, and defer +my grand object till to-morrow. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxiij. + + _Leonora to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Dear Mother, + +This moment I have received a letter from Mr L----. He has accepted of +an embassy to Petersburg. I cannot guess by the few lines he has +written, whether or not he wishes that I should accompany him. Most +ardently I wish it; but if my offer should be refused, or if it should +be accepted only because it could not be well refused; if I should be a +burthen, a restraint upon him, I should wish myself dead. + +Perhaps he accepts of this embassy on purpose that he may leave me and +take another person with him: or perhaps, dearest mother (I hardly dare +to hope it)--perhaps he wishes to break off that connexion, and goes to +Russia to leave temptation behind him. I know that this embassy was +offered to him some weeks ago, and he had then no thoughts of accepting +it.--O that I could see into his heart--that heart which used to be +always open to me! If I could discover what his wishes are, I should +know what mine ought to be. I have thoughts of going to town immediately +to see him; at least I may take leave of him. Do you approve of it? +Write the moment you receive this: but I need not say that, for I am +sure you will do so. Dearest mother, you have prophesied that his heart +will return to me, and on this hope I live. + + Your ever affectionate daughter, + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter lxiv. + + _The Duchess of ---- to Leonora._ + + +Yes, my dear, I advise you by all means to go to town, and to see your +husband. Your desire to accompany him to Russia he will know before you +see him, for I have just written and despatched an express to him with +your last letter, and with all those which I have received from you +within these last six months. Leave Mr L---- time to read them before he +sees you; and do not hurry or fatigue yourself unnecessarily. You know +that an embassy cannot be arranged in two days; therefore travel by easy +journeys: you cannot do otherwise without hazard. Your courage in +offering to undertake this long voyage with your husband is worthy of +you, my beloved daughter. God bless and preserve you! If you go to +Petersburg, let me know in time, that I may see you before you leave +England. I will be at any moment at any place you appoint. + + Your affectionate mother, + + + + + Letter lxv. + + _The Duchess of ---- to Mr L----._ + + +Perhaps this letter may find you at the feet of your mistress. Spare me, +sir, a few moments from your pleasures. You may perhaps expect +reproaches from the mother of your wife; but let me assure you, that you +have none to apprehend. For my daughter's sake, if not for yours, I +would forbear. Never was departing love recalled by the voice of +reproach; you shall not hear it from me, you have not heard it from +Leonora. But mistake not the cause of her forbearance; let it not be +attributed to pusillanimity of temper, or insensibility of heart. + +Enclosed I send you all the letters which my daughter has written to me +from the first day of her acquaintance with Lady Olivia to this hour. +From these you will be enabled to judge of what she has felt for some +months past, and of the actual state of her heart; you will see all the +tenderness and all the strength of her soul. + +It has ever been my fixed opinion, that a wife who loves her husband, +and who has possessed his affections, may reclaim them from the lure of +the most artful of her sex, by persevering kindness, temper, and good +sense, unless indeed her husband be a fool or a libertine. I have +prophesied that my daughter will regain your heart; and upon this +prophecy, to use her own expression, she lives. And even now, when its +accomplishment is far removed, I am so steady in my opinion of her and +of you; so convinced of the uniform result of certain conduct upon the +human mind, that undismayed I repeat my prophecy. + +Were you to remain in this kingdom, I should leave things to their +natural course; I should not interfere so far even as to send you +Leonora's letters: but as you may be separated for years, I think it +necessary now to put into your hands incontrovertible proofs of what she +is, and what she has been. Do not imagine that I am so weak as to expect +that the perusal of these letters will work a sudden change: but it is +fit, that before you leave England you should know that Leonora is not a +cold, sullen, or offended wife; but one who loves you most tenderly, +most generously; who, concealing the agony of her heart, waits with +resignation for the time when she will be your refuge, and the permanent +blessing of your life. + + + + + Letter lxvi. + + _Madame de P---- to Olivia._ + + + Paris. + +And now, my charming Olivia, raise your fine eyes as high as ambition +can look, and you will perhaps discover my grand object. You do not see +it yet. Look again.--Do you not see the Emperor of Russia? What would +you think of him for a lover? If it were only for novelty's sake, it +would really be pleasant to have a czar at one's feet. Reign in his +heart, and you in fact seat yourself invisibly on the throne of all the +Russias: thence what a commanding prospect you have of the affairs of +Europe! and how we should govern the world at our ease! The project is +bold, but not impracticable. The ancients represent Cupid riding the +Numidian lion; and why should he not tame the Russian bear? It would +make a pretty design for a vignette. I can engrave as well as La +Pompadour could at least, and anticipating your victory, my charming +Olivia, I will engrave Cupid leading the bear in a chain of flowers. +This shall be my seal. Mon cachet de faveur. + +Courage, my fair politician! You have a difficult task; but the glory is +in proportion to the labour; and those who value power properly are paid +by its acquisition for all possible fatigue and hardships. With your +knowledge of our modes, you will be at Petersburg the arbitress of +delights. You have a charming taste and invention for fetes and +spectacles. Teach these people to vary their pleasures. Their monarch +must adore you, if you banish from his presence that most dreadful enemy +of kings, and most obstinate resident of courts, _ennui_. Trust, my +Olivia, neither to your wit, nor your beauty, nor your accomplishments, +but employ your "various arts of trifling prettily," and, take my word +for it, you will succeed. + +As I may not have an opportunity of sending you another private letter, +and as lemon-juice, goulard, and all those sympathetic inks, are subject +to unlucky accidents, I must send you all my secret instructions by the +present safe conveyance. + +You must absolutely sacrifice, my dear child, all your romantic notions, +and all your taste for love, to the grand object. The czar must not have +the slightest cause for jealousy. These czars make nothing, you know, of +cutting off their mistresses' pretty heads upon the bare suspicion of an +intrigue. But you must do what is still more difficult than to be +constant, you must yield your will, and, what is more, you must never +let this czar guess that his will is not always your pleasure. Your +humour, your tastes, your wishes, must be incessantly and with alacrity +sacrificed to his. You must submit to the constraint of eternal court +ceremony and court dissimulation. You must bear to be surrounded with +masks, instead of the human face divine; and instead of +fellow-creatures, you must content yourself with puppets. You will have +the amusement of pulling the wires: but remember that you must wear a +mask perpetually as well as others, and never attempt to speak, and +never expect to hear the language of truth or of the heart. You must not +be the dupe of attachment in those who call themselves friends, or +zealous and affectionate servants, &c. &c. You must have sufficient +strength of character to bear continually in mind that all these +professions are mere words, that all these people are alike false, and +actuated but by one motive, self-interest. To secure yourself from +secret and open enemies, you must farther have sufficient courage to +live without a friend or a confidante, for such persons at court are +only spies, traitors in the worst forms. All this is melancholy and +provoking, to be sure; but all this you must see without feeling, or at +least without showing a spark of indignation. A sentimental +misanthropist, male or female, is quite out of place at court. You must +see all that is odious and despicable in human nature in a comic point +of view; and you must consider your fellow-creatures as objects to be +laughed at, not to be hated. Laughter, besides being good for the +health, and consequently for the complexion, always implies superiority. +Without this gratification to our vanity there would be no possibility +of enduring that eternal penance of hypocrisy, and that solitary state +of suspicion, to which the ambitious condemn themselves. I fear, my +romantic Olivia, that you, who are a person used to yield to first +impressions, and not quite accustomed to subdue your passions to your +interest, will think that politics require too much from you, almost as +much as constancy or religion. But consider the difference! for Heaven's +sake, my dear, consider the greatness of our object! Would to God that I +had the eloquence of Bossuet, and I would make you a convert from love +and a proselyte to glory. Dare, my Olivia, to be a martyr to +ambition!--See! already high in air she holds a crown over your head--it +is almost within your grasp--stretch out your white arm and seize +it--fear not the thorns!--every crown has thorns--but who upon that +account ever yet refused one? My dear empress, I have the honour to kiss +your powerful hands. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxvij. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + My dear Friend, + +You need not hurry yourself to come to town on my account, for by this +change of ministry my embassy will be delayed some weeks. + +A few days ago this delay would have been a terrible disappointment to +me; yet now I feel it a respite. A respite! you will exclaim. Yes, my +dear friend--so it is. Such is the heart of man!--so changeable, so +contradictory, so much at variance with itself from day to day, from +hour to hour. I believe, from what I now feel, that every man under the +dominion of passion is reduced to a most absurd and miserable +condition.--I have just been reading some letters from Leonora, which +have wrung my heart; letters addressed to her mother, laying open every +feeling of her mind for some months. My dear friend, what injustice +have I done to this admirable woman! With what tenderness, with what +delicacy has she loved me! while I, mistaking modesty for coldness, +fortitude for indifference, have neglected, injured, and abandoned her! +With what sweetness of temper, with what persevering goodness has she +borne with me, while, intoxicated with passion, I saw everything in a +false point of view! How often have I satisfied myself with the +persuasion, that she scarcely observed my attachment to Olivia, or +beheld it unconcerned, secure by the absence of love from the pangs of +jealousy! How often have I accused her of insensibility, whilst her +heart was in tortures! Olivia was deceived also, and confirmed me in +this cruel error. And all that time Leonora was defending her rival, and +pleading her cause! With what generosity, with what magnanimity she +speaks of Olivia in those letters! Her confidence was unbounded, her +soul above suspicion; to the very last she doubted and blamed +herself--dear amiable woman! blamed herself for our faults, for feeling +that jealousy, which no wife who loved as she did could possibly subdue. +She never betrayed it by a single word or look of reproach. Even though +she fainted at that cursed fete champetre, yet the moment she came to +her senses, she managed so that none of the spectators could suspect she +thought Olivia was her rival. My dear general, you will forgive me--as +long as I praise Leonora you will understand me. At last you will +acknowledge that I do justice to the merits of my wife. Justice! no--I +am unworthy of her. I have no heart like hers to offer in return for +such love. She wishes to go with me to Petersburg; she has forborne to +make this offer directly to me; but I know it from her last letter to +her mother, which now lies before me. How can I refuse?--and how can I +accept? My soul is torn with violence different ways. How can I leave +Leonora; and how can I tear myself from Olivia!--even if her charms had +no power over my heart, how could I with honour desert the woman who has +sacrificed everything for me! I will not shield myself from you, my +friend, behind the word honour. See me as you have always seen me, +without disguise, and now without defence. I respect, I love +Leonora--but, alas! I am in love with Olivia! + + Yours ever, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxviij. + + _Mr L---- to Olivia._ + + +Triumphant as you are over my heart, dear enchanting Olivia! you cannot +make me false. I cannot, even to appease your anger, deny this morning +what I said last night. It is inconsistent with all your professions, +with your character, with your generous disposition, to desire me to +"_abjure Leonora for ever_!" it would be to render myself for ever +unworthy of Olivia. I am convinced, that had you read the letters of +which I spoke, you would have been touched, you would have been struck +by them as I was: instead of being hurt and displeased by the impression +that they made upon me, you would have sympathized in my feelings, you +would have been indignant if I had not admired, you would have detested +and despised me if I could have been insensible to "_so much goodness +and generosity_." I repeat my words: I will not "_retract_," I cannot +"_repent of them_." My dear Olivia! when you reflect upon what is past, +I am persuaded you will acknowledge that your sensibility made you +unjust. Indeed, my love, you did not show your usual candour; I had +just read all that Leonora had written of you, all that she had urged +against her mother in your defence; even when she had most cause to be +irritated against us, I could not avoid being shocked by the different +manner in which you spoke of her. Perhaps I told you so too abruptly: if +I had loved you less, I should have been more cautious and more calm--if +I had esteemed you less, calmer still. I could then, possibly, have +borne to hear you speak in a manner unbecoming yourself. Forgive me the +pain I gave you--the pain I now give you, my dearest Olivia! My +sincerity is the best security you can have for my future love. Banish +therefore this unjust, this causeless jealousy: moderate this excessive +sensibility for both our sakes, and depend upon the power you have over +my heart. You cannot conceive how much I have felt from this +misunderstanding--the first we have ever had. Let it be the last. I have +spent a sleepless night. I am detained in town by provoking, tiresome, +but necessary business. Meet me in the evening with smiles, my Olivia: +let me behold in those fascinating eyes their wonted expression, and +hear from your voice its usual, its natural tone of tenderness and love. + + Ever devotedly yours, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxix. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + +You have spoken daggers to me! Come not to Richmond this evening! I +cannot--will not see you! Not for the universe would I see you with my +present feelings! + +Write to me more letters like that which I have just received. Dip your +pen in gall; find words more bitter than those which you have already +used. Accuse me of want of candour, want of generosity, want of every +amiable, every estimable quality. Upbraid me with the loss of all of +which you have bereft me. Recollect every sacrifice that I have made, +and, if you can, imagine every sacrifice that I would still make for +you--peace of mind, friends, country, fortune, fame, virtue; name them +all, and triumph--and disdain your triumph! Remind me how low I am +fallen--sink me lower still--insult, debase, humble me to the dust. +Exalt my rival, unroll to my aching eyes the emblazoned catalogue of her +merits, her claims to your esteem, your affection; number them over, +dwell upon those that I have forfeited, those which can never be +regained; tell me that such merits are above all price; assure me that +beyond all her sex you respect, you admire, you love your wife; say it +with enthusiasm, with fire in your eyes, with all the energy of passion +in your voice; then bid me sympathize in your feelings--bid me banish +jealousy--wonder at my alarm--call my sorrow anger--conjure me to +restrain my sensibility! Restrain my sensibility! Unhappy Olivia! he is +tired of your love. Let him then at once tell me the dreadful truth, and +I will bear it. Any evil is better than uncertainty, than lingering +hope. Drive all hope from my mind. Bid me despair and die--but do not +stretch me on the rack of jealousy!--Yet if such be your cruel pleasure, +enjoy it.--Determine how much I can endure and live. Stop just at the +point when human nature sinks, that you may not lose your victim, that +she may linger on from day to day, your sport and your derision. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lxx. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + My dear General, + +You will rejoice to hear that Olivia and I have been in a state of +warfare for some days past, and you will be still more pleased when you +learn the cause of our quarrel. On the day that I had been reading +Leonora's letters I was rather later at Richmond than usual. Olivia, +offended, insisted upon knowing by what I could possibly have been +detained. Her anger knew no bounds when she heard the truth. She made +use of some expressions, in speaking of my wife, which I could not, I +hope, have borne at any time, but which shocked me beyond measure at +that moment. I defended Leonora with warmth. Olivia, in a scornful tone, +talked of my wife's coldness of disposition, and bid me compare Lady +Leonora's love with hers. It was a comparison I had it more in my power +to make than Olivia was aware of; it was the most disadvantageous moment +for her in which that comparison could be made. She saw or suspected my +feelings, and perceived that all she had said of my Leonora's +_incapability of loving_ produced an effect directly contrary to her +expectations. Transported by jealousy, she then threw out hints +respecting the prince. I spoke as I felt, indignantly. I know not +precisely what I said, but Olivia and I parted in anger. I have since +received a passionately fond note from her. But I feel unhappy. Dear +general, when will you come to town? + + Yours truly, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxxi. + + _Mrs C---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + My dear Madam, + +Your grace's cautions and entreaties to Lady Leonora not to over-exert +and fatigue herself were, alas! as ineffectual as mine. From the time +she heard that Mr L---- had accepted this embassy to Petersburg, she was +so eager to set out on her journey to town, and so impatient to see him, +that neither her mind nor her body had one moment's tranquillity. She +waited with indescribable anxiety for your grace's answer to her letter; +and the instant she was secure of your approbation, her carriage was +ordered to the door. I saw that she was ill; but she would not listen to +my fears; she repeated with triumph, that her mother made no objection +to her journey, and that she had no apprehensions for herself. However, +she was obliged at last to yield. The carriage was actually at the door, +when she was forced to submit to be carried to her bed. For several +hours she was in such danger, that I never expected she could live till +this day. Thank God! she is now safe. Her infant, to her great delight, +is a boy: she was extremely anxious to have a son, because Mr +L----formerly wished for one so much. She forbids me to write to Mr +L----, lest I should communicate the account of her _sudden illness_ too +abruptly. + +She particularly requests that your grace will mention to him this +_accident_ in the least alarming manner possible. I shall write again +next post. Lady Leonora has now fallen asleep, and seems to sleep +quietly. Who should sleep in peace if she cannot! I never saw her +equal. + + My dear madam, + I am, + With respect and attachment, + Your grace's + Sincerely affectionate, + Helen C----. + +It is with extreme concern I am forced to add, that since I wrote this + Letter the child has been so ill that I have fears for his life.--His +poor mother! + + + + + Letter lxxij. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + My dear General, + +All is upon velvet again. Poor Olivia was excessively hurt by my letter: +she was ill for two days--seriously ill. Yesterday I at length obtained +admittance. Olivia was all softness, all candour: she acknowledged that +she had been wrong, and in so sweet a voice! She blamed herself till I +could no longer think her blameable. She seemed so much humbled and +depressed, such a tender melancholy appeared in her bewitching eyes, +that I could not resist the fascination. I certainly gave her some cause +for displeasure that unfortunate evening; for as Olivia has strong +passions and exquisite sensibility, I should not have been so abrupt. A +fit of jealousy may seize the best and most generous mind, and may +prompt to what it would be incapable of saying or thinking in +dispassionate moments. I am sure that Olivia has, upon reflection, felt +more pain from this affair than I have. My Russian embassy is still in +_abeyance_. Ministers seem to know their own minds as little as I know +mine. Ambition has its quarrels and follies as well as love. At all +events, I shall not leave England till next month; and I shall not go +down to L---- Castle till I have received my last instructions from our +court, and till the day for my sailing is fixed. The parting with +Leonora will be a dreadful difficulty. I cannot think of it steadily. +But as she herself says, "Is it not better that she should lose a year +of my affections than a life?" The duchess is mistaken in imagining it +possible that any woman, let her influence be ever so great over my +heart, could prejudice me against my amiable, my admirable wife. What +has just passed between Olivia and me convinces me that it is +impossible. She has too much knowledge of my character to hazard in +future a similar attempt. No, my dear friend, be assured I would not +suffer it. I have not yet lost all title to your esteem or to my own. +This enchantress may intoxicate me with her cup, but shall never degrade +me; and I should feel myself less degraded even by losing the human form +than by forfeiting that principle of honour and virtue, which more nobly +distinguishes man from brute. + + Yours most sincerely, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxxiij. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + My dear Friend, + +It is well that I did not answer your letter of Saturday before I +received that of Monday. My congratulations upon your quarrel with your +fair one might have come just as you were kissing hands upon a +reconciliation. + +I have often found a great convenience in writing a bad hand; my letters +are so little like what they are intended for, and have among them such +equality of unintelligibility, that each seems either; and with the +slightest alteration, each will stand and serve for the other. My _m_, +_n_, and _u_, are convertible letters; so are the terms and propositions +of your present mode of reasoning, my dear L----, and I perceive that +you find your account in it. Upon this I congratulate you; and I +congratulate Lady Leonora upon your being detained some weeks longer in +England. Those who have a just cause need never pray for victory; they +need only ask the gods for time. Time always brings victory to truth, +and shame to falsehood. But you are not worthy of such fine apophthegms. +At present "you are not fit to hear yourself convinced." I will wait for +a better opportunity, and have patience with you, if I can. + +You seem to plume yourself mightily upon your resolve to do justice to +the merits of your wife, and upon the courage you have shown in stuffing +cotton into your ears to prevent your listening to the voice of the +siren: but pray take the cotton out, and hear all she can say or sing. +Lady Leonora cannot be hurt by anything Olivia can say, but her own +malice may destroy herself. + +In the meantime, as you tell me that you are upon velvet again, I am to +presume that you are perfectly at ease; and I should be obliged to you, +if, as often as you can find leisure, you would send me bulletins of +your happiness. I have never yet been in love with one of these +high-flown heroines, and I am really curious to know what degree of +felicity they can bestow upon a man of common sense. I should be glad +to profit by the experience of a friend. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxxiv. + + _Olivia to Madame de P----._ + + + Richmond. + +Accept my sincere thanks, inimitable Gabrielle! for having taken off my +hands a lover, who really has half-wearied me to death. If you had dealt +more frankly with me, I could, however, have saved you much superfluous +trouble and artifice. I now perfectly comprehend the cause of poor +R***'s strange silence some months ago; he was then under the influence +of your charms, and it was your pleasure to deceive me even when there +was no necessity for dissimulation. You knew the secret of my growing +attachment to L----, and must have foreseen that R*** would be +burthensome to me. You needed therefore only to have treated me with +candour, and you would have gained a lover without losing a friend: but +Mad. de P---- is too accomplished a politician to go the simple straight +road to her object. I now perfectly comprehend why she took such pains +to persuade me that an imperial lover was alone worthy of my charms. She +was alarmed by an imaginary danger. Believe me, I am incapable of +disputing with any one _les restes d'un coeur_. + +Permit me to assure you, madam, that your incomparable talents for +explanation will be utterly thrown away on me in future. I am in +possession of the whole truth, from a person whose information I cannot +doubt: I know the precise date of the commencement of your connexion +with R***, so that you must perceive it will be impracticable to make me +believe that you have not betrayed my easy confidence. + +I cannot, however, without those pangs of sentiment which your heart +will never experience, reflect upon the treachery, the perfidy of one +who has been my bosom friend.--Return my letters, Gabrielle.--With this +you will receive certain _souvenirs_, at which I could never +henceforward look without sighing. I return you that ring I have so long +worn with delight, the picture of that treacherous eye,[2] which you +know so well how to use. Adieu, Gabrielle.--The illusion is over.--How +many of the illusions of my fond heart have been dispelled by time and +treachery! + + Olivia. + +[Footnote 2: Certain ladies at this time carried pictures of the eyes of +their favourites.] + + + + + Letter lxxv. + + _Madame de P---- to Monsieur R***._ + + + Paris, -- 18, --. + +I have just received the most extravagant letter imaginable from your +Olivia. Really you may congratulate yourself, my dear friend, upon +having recovered your liberty. 'Twere better to be a galley slave at +once than to be bound to please a woman for life, who knows not what she +would have either in love or friendship. Can you conceive anything so +absurd as her upbraiding me with treachery, because I know the value of +a heart of which she tells me she was more than half tired? as if I were +to blame for her falling in love with Mr L----, and as if I did not know +the whole progress of her inconstancy. Her letters to me give a new +history of the birth and education of Love. Here we see Love born of +Envy, nursed by _Ennui_, and dandled in turn by all the Vices. + +And this Lady Olivia fancies that she is a perfect Frenchwoman! There is +nothing we Parisians abhor and ridicule so much as these foreign, and +always awkward, caricatures of our manners. With us there are many who, +according to a delicate distinction, lose their virtue without losing +their taste for virtue; but I flatter myself there are few who resemble +Olivia entirely--who have neither the virtues of a man nor of a woman. +One cannot even say that "her head is the dupe of her heart," since she +has no heart. But enough of such a tiresome and incomprehensible +subject. + +How I overvalued that head, when I thought it could ever be fit for +politics! 'Tis well we did not commit ourselves. You see how prudent I +am, my dear R***, and how much those are mistaken who think that we +women are not fit to be trusted with secrets of state. Love and politics +make the best mixture in the world. Adieu. Victoire summons me to my +toilette. + + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxxvi. + + _Madame de P---- to Lady Olivia._ + + + Paris, -- 18, --. + +Really, my dear Olivia, this is too childish. What! make a complaint in +form against me for taking a lover off your hands when you did not know +what to do with him! Do you quarrel in England every time you change +partners in a country dance? But I must be serious; for the +high-sounding words _treachery_ and _perfidy_ are surely sufficient to +make anybody grave. Seriously, then, if you are resolved to be tragical, +_et de me faire une scene_, I must submit--console myself, and, above +all things, take care not to be ridiculous. + +Your letters, as you desire it so earnestly, and with so much reason, +shall be returned by the first safe conveyance; but excuse me if I +forbear to restore your _souvenirs_. With us Parisians this returning of +keepsakes has been out of fashion since the days of Moliere and _Le +depit amoureux_. + +Adieu, my charming Olivia! I embrace you tenderly, I was going to say; +but I believe, according to your English etiquette, I must now conclude +with + + I have the honour to be, + Madam, + Your most obedient, + Humble servant, + Gabrielle de P----. + + + + + Letter lxxvij. + + _From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Tuesday morning. + +Come not to Richmond to-day; I am not in spirits to see you, my dearest +L----. Allow me to indulge my melancholy retired from every human eye. + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lxxviij. + + _From Lady Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Tuesday evening. + +"Explain to you the cause of my melancholy"--Vain request!--cruel as +vain! Your ignorance of the cause too well justifies my sad +presentiments. Were our feelings in unison, as once they were, would not +every chord of your heart vibrate responsively to mine? + +With me love is an absorbing vortex of the soul, into which all other +thoughts, feelings, and ideas are irresistibly impelled; with you it is +but as the stranger stream that crosses the peaceful lake, and as it +flows wakens only the surface of the slumbering waters, communicating to +them but a temporary agitation. With you, my dear, but too +tranquil-minded friend, love is but one amid the vulgar crowd of +pleasures; it concentrates not your ideas, it entrances not your +faculties; it is not, as in my heart, the supreme delight, which renders +all others tasteless, the only blessing which can make life supportable; +the sole, sufficient object of existence. Alas! how cruelly different is +the feeble attachment that I have inspired from that all-powerful +sentiment to which I live a victim! Countless symptoms, by you unheeded, +mark to my love-watchful eye the decline of passion. How often am I +secretly shocked by the cold carelessness of your words and manner! How +often does the sigh burst from my bosom, the tear fall from my eye, when +you have left me at leisure to recall, by memory's torturing power, +instances of your increasing indifference! Seek not to calm my too +well-founded fears. Professions, with all their unmeaning, inanimate +formality, but irritate my anguish. Permit me to indulge, to feed upon +my grief in silence. Ask me no more to explain to you the cause of my +melancholy. Too plainly, alas! I feel it is beyond my utmost power to +endure it. Amiable Werter--divine St Preux--you would sympathize in my +feelings! Sublime Goethe--all-eloquent Rousseau--you alone could feel as +I do, and you alone could paint my anguish. + + The miserable + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lxxix. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + +Expect no bulletin of happiness from me, my friend. I find it impossible +to make Olivia happy. She has superior talents, accomplishments, beauty, +grace, all that can attract and fascinate the human heart--that could +triumph over every feeling, every principle that opposed her power: she +lives with the man she loves, and yet she is miserable. + +Rousseau, it has been said, never really loved any woman but his own +Julie; I have lately been tempted to think that Olivia never really +loved any man but St Preux. Werter, perhaps, and some other German +heroes, might dispute her heart even with St Preux; but as for me, I +begin to be aware that I am loved only as a feeble resemblance of those +divine originals (to whom, however, my character bears not the slightest +similarity), and I am often indirectly, and sometimes directly, +reproached with my inferiority to imaginary models. But how can a plain +Englishman hope to reach + + "The high sublime of deep absurd"? + +I am continually reviled for not using a romantic language, which I have +never learned; and which, as far as I can judge, is foreign to all +natural feeling. I wish to make Olivia happy. There is nothing I would +not do to satisfy her of my sincerity; but nothing I can do will +suffice. She has a sort of morbid sensibility, which is more alive to +pain than pleasure, more susceptible of jealousy than of love. No terms +are sufficiently strong to convince her of my affection, but an +unguarded word makes her miserable for hours. She requires to be +agitated by violent emotions, though they exhaust her mind, and leave +her spiritless and discontented. In this alternation of rapture and +despair all her time passes. As she says of herself, she has no soul but +for love! she seems to think it a crime against sentiment to admit of +relief from common occupations or indifferent subjects; with a sort of +superstitious zeal she excludes all thoughts but those which relate to +one object, and in this spirit of amorous mysticism she actually makes a +penance even of love. I am astonished that her heart can endure this +variety of self-inflicted torments. What will become of Olivia when she +ceases to love and be loved? And what passion can be durable which is so +violent as hers, and to which no respite is allowed? No affection can +sustain these hourly trials of suspicion and reproach. + +Jealousy of Leonora has taken such possession of Olivia's imagination, +that she misinterprets all my words and actions. By restraining my +thoughts, by throwing obstacles in the way of my affection for my wife, +she stimulates and increases it: she forces upon me continually those +comparisons which she dreads. Till I knew Olivia more intimately than +the common forms of a first acquaintance, or the illusions of a +treacherous passion permitted, her defects did not appear; but now that +I suffer, and that I see her suffer daily, I deplore them bitterly. Her +happiness rests and weighs heavily on my honour. I feel myself bound to +consider and to provide for the happiness of the woman who has +sacrificed to me all independent means of felicity. A man without honour +or humanity may perhaps finish an intrigue as easily as he can begin it, +but this is not exactly the case of your imprudent friend, + + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxxx. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Wednesday. + +Ay, ay! just as I thought it would be. This is all the comfort, my dear +friend, that I can give you; all the comfort that wise people usually +afford their friends in distress. Provided things happen just as they +predicted, they care but little what is suffered in the accomplishment +of their prophecies. But seriously, my dear L----, I am not sorry that +you are in a course of vexation. The more you see of your charmer the +better. She will allay your intoxication by gentle degrees, and send you +sober home. Pray keep in the course you have begun, and preserve your +patience as long as possible. I should be sorry that you and Olivia +quarrelled violently, and parted in a passion: such quarrels of lovers +are proverbially the renewal of love. + + "Il faut delier l'amitie, il faut couper l'amour." + +In some cases this maxim may be just, but not in the present instance. I +would rather wait till the knot is untied than cut it; for when once you +see the art with which it was woven, a similar knot can never again +perplex you. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxxxi. + + _From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond, Saturday. + +You presume too much upon your power over my heart, and upon the +softness of my nature. Know that I have spirit as well as tenderness--a +spirit that will neither be injured nor insulted with impunity. You were +amazed, you say, by the violence which I showed yesterday. Why did you +provoke that violence, by opposing the warmest wish of my heart? and +with a calmness that excited my tenfold indignation! Imagine not that I +am a tame, subjugated female, to be treated with neglect if I +remonstrate, and caressed as the price of obedience. Fancy not that I am +one of your chimney-corner, household goddesses, doomed to the dull +uniformity of domestic worship, destined to be adored, to be hung with +garlands, or undeified or degraded with indignity! I have been +accustomed to a different species of worship; and the fondness of my +weak heart has not yet sunk me so low, and rendered me so abject, that I +cannot assert my rights. You tell me that you are unconscious of giving +me any just cause of offence. Just cause!--How I hate the cold accuracy +of your words! This single expression is sufficient offence to a heart +like mine. You entreat me to be reasonable. Reasonable!--Did ever man +talk of reason to a woman he loved? When once a man has recourse to +reason and precision, there is an end of love. No just cause of +offence!--What, have I no cause to be indignant, when I find you thus +trifle with my feelings, postpone from week to week, and month to month, +our departure from this hateful country-- + + "Bid me hope on from day to day, + And wish and wish my soul away!" + +Yes, you know it to be the most ardent wish of my soul to leave England; +you know that I cannot enjoy a moment's peace of mind whilst I am here; +yet in this racking suspense it is your pleasure to detain me. No, it +shall not be--this shall not go on! It is in vain you tell me that the +delay originates not with you, that you must wait for instructions and I +know not what--paltry diplomatic excuses! + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter lxxxij. + +_Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + Richmond. + +Amuse yourself, my good general, at my expence; I know that you are +seriously interested for my happiness; but the way is not quite so clear +before me as you imagine. It is extremely easy to be philosophic for our +friends; but difficult to be so for ourselves when our passions are +concerned. Indeed, this would be a contradiction in terms; you might as +well talk of a cold sun, or of hot ice, as of a philosopher falling in +love, or of a man in love being a philosopher. You say that Olivia will +wear out my passion, and that her defects will undo the work of her +charms. I acknowledge that she sometimes ravels the web she has woven; +but she is miraculously expeditious and skilful in repairing the +mischief: the magical tissue again appears firm as ever, glowing with +brighter colours, and exhibiting finer forms. + +In plain prose, my dear friend--for as you are not in love, you will +find it difficult to follow my poetic flights--in plain prose, I must +confess that Olivia has the power to charm and touch my heart even after +she has provoked me to the utmost verge of human patience. She knows her +power, and I am afraid this tempts her to abuse it. Her temper, which +formerly appeared to me all feminine gentleness, is now irritable and +violent; but I am persuaded that this is not her natural disposition; it +is the effect of her present unhappy state of mind. Tortured by remorse +and jealousy, if in the height of their paroxysms Olivia make me suffer +from their fury, is it for me to complain? I, who caused, should at +least endure the evil. + +Everything is arranged for my embassy, and the day is fixed for our +leaving England. I go down to L----Castle next week. + + Your faithful + F. L----. + + + + + Letter lxxxiij. + + _Josephine to Victoire, Mad. de P----'s woman._ + + + Richmond. + +I am in despair, dear Victoire; and unless your genius can assist me, +absolutely undone! Here is this romantic lady of mine determined upon a +journey to Russia with her new English lover. What whims ladies take +into their heads, and how impossible it is to make them understand +reason! I have been labouring in vain to convince my Lady Olivia that +this is the most absurd scheme imaginable: and I have repeated to her +all I learnt from Lady F----'s women, who are just returned from +Petersburg, and whom I met at a party last night, all declaring they +would rather die a thousand deaths than go through again what they have +endured. Such seas of ice! such going in sledges! such barbarians! such +beds! and scarcely a looking-glass! And nothing fit to wear but what one +carries with one, and God knows how long we may stay. At Petersburg the +coachmen's ears are frozen off every night on their boxes waiting for +their ladies. And there are bears and wild beasts, I am told, howling +with their mouths wide open night and day in the forests which we are to +pass through; and even in the towns the men, I hear, are little better, +for it is the law of the country for the men to beat their wives, and +many wear long beards. How horrid!--My Lady F----'s woman, who is a +Parisian born, and very pretty, if her eyes were not so small, and +better dressed than her lady always, except diamonds, assures me upon +her honour, she never had a civil thing said to her whilst she was in +Russia, except by one or two Frenchmen in the suite of the ambassadors. + +These Russians think of nothing but drinking brandy, and they put pepper +into it! Mon Dieu, what savages! Put pepper into brandy! But that is +inconceivable! Positively, I will never go to Petersburg. And yet if my +lady goes, what will become of me? for you know my sentiments for +Brunel, and he is decided to accompany my lady, so I cannot stay behind. + +But absolutely I am shocked at this intrigue with Mr L----, and my +conscience reproaches me terribly with being a party concerned in it; +for in this country an affair of gallantry between married people is not +so light a thing as with us. Here wives sometimes love their husbands +seriously, as if they were their lovers; and my Lady Leonora L---- is +one of this sort of wives. She is very unhappy, I am told. One day at +L---- Castle, I assure you my heart quite bled for her, when she gave me +a beautiful gown of English muslin, little suspecting me then to be her +enemy. She is certainly very unsuspicious, and very amiable, and I wish +to Heaven her husband would think as I do, and take her with him to +Petersburg, instead of carrying off my Lady Olivia and me! Adieu, mon +chou! Embrace everybody I know tenderly for me. + + Josephine. + + + + + Letter lxxxiv. + + _Mrs C---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + My dear Madam, + +I believe, when I wrote last to your grace, I said, that I had no hopes +of the child's life. From the moment of his birth there was but little +probability of his being anything but a source of misery to his mother. +I cannot, on her account, regret that the struggle is over. He expired +this morning. My poor friend had hopes to the last, though I had none; +and it was most painful and alarming to see the feverish anxiety with +which she watched over her little boy, frequently repeating, "Mr L---- +used to wish so much for a son.--I hope the boy will live to see his +father." + +Last night, partly by persuasion, partly by compulsion, I prevailed with +her to let the child be taken out of her room. This morning, as soon as +it was light, I heard her bell ring; the poor little thing was at that +moment in convulsions; and knowing that Lady Leonora rang to inquire for +it, I went to prepare her mind for what I knew must be the event. The +moment I came into the room she looked eagerly in my face, but did not +ask me any questions about the child. I sat down by the side of her bed; +but without listening to what I said about her own health, she rang her +bell again more violently than before. Susan came in. "Susan!--without +my child!"--said she, starting up. Susan hesitated, but I saw by her +countenance that it was all over--so did Lady Leonora. She said not a +word, but drawing her curtain suddenly, she lay down, and never spoke or +stirred for three hours. The first words she said afterwards were to me: + +"You need not move so softly, my dear Helen; I am not asleep. Have you +my mother's last letter? I think my mother says that she will be here +to-morrow? She is very kind to come to me. Will you be so good as to +write to her immediately, and send a servant with your letter as soon as +you can to meet her on the road, that she may not be _surprised_ when +she arrives?" + +Lady Leonora is now more composed and more like herself than she has +been for some time past. I rejoice that your grace will so soon be here, +because you will be her best possible consolation; and I do not know any +other person in the world who could have sufficient influence to prevent +her from attempting to set out upon a journey before she can travel with +safety. To do her justice, she has not hinted that such were her +intentions; but still I know her mind so well, that I am certain what +her thoughts are, and what her actions would be. Most ladies talk more +than they act, but Leonora acts more decidedly than she talks. + + Believe me, dear madam, + With much respect, + Your grace's + Sincerely affectionate + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter lxxxv. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + +I thank you, my excellent friend, for the kindness of your last +letter,[3] which came to me at the time I wanted it most. In the whole +course of my life I never felt so much self-reproach as I have done +since I heard of the illness of Leonora and the loss of my son. From +this blow my mind will not easily recover. Of all torments self-reproach +is the worst. And even now I cannot follow the dictates of my own heart +and of my better judgment. + +In Olivia's company I am compelled to repress my feelings; she cannot +sympathize in them; they offend her: she is dissatisfied even with my +silence, and complains of my being out of spirits. Out of spirits!--How +can I be otherwise at present? Has Olivia no touch of pity for a woman +who was once her friend, who always treated her with generous kindness? +But perhaps I am a little unreasonable, and expect too much from female +nature. + +At all events, I wish that Olivia would spare me at this moment her +sentimental metaphysics. She is for ever attempting to prove to me that +I cannot love so well as she can. I admit that I cannot talk of love so +finely. I hope all this will not go on when we arrive at Petersburg. + +The ministry at last know their own minds. I saw ---- to-day, and +everything will be quickly arranged; therefore, my dear friend, do not +delay coming to town, to + + Your obliged + F. L----. + +[Footnote 3: This letter does not appear.] + + + + + Letter lxxxvi. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + +Perhaps you are a _little_ unreasonable! Indeed, my dear friend, I do +not think you a _little_ unreasonable, but very nearly stark mad. What! +quarrel with your mistress because she is not sorry that your wife is +ill, and because she cannot sympathize in your grief for the loss of +your son! Where, except perhaps in absurd novels, did you ever meet with +these paragons of mistresses, who were so magnanimous and so generous as +to sacrifice their own reputations, and then be satisfied to share the +only possible good remaining to them in life, the heart of their lover, +with a rival more estimable, more amiable than themselves, and who has +the advantage of being a wife? This sharing of hearts, this union of +souls with this opposition of interests--this metaphysical gallantry is +absolute nonsense, and all who try it in real life will find it so to +their cost. Why should you, my dear L----, expect such superlative +excellence from your Olivia? Do you think that a woman by losing one +virtue increases the strength of those that remain, as it is said that +the loss of one of our senses renders all the others more acute? Do you +think that a lady, by yielding to love, and by proving that she has not +sufficient resolution or forbearance to preserve the honour of her sex, +gives the best possible demonstration of her having sufficient strength +of character to rise superior to all the other weaknesses incident to +human, and more especially to female nature--envy and jealousy for +instance? + +No, no, my good friend, you have common sense, though you lately have +been sparing of it in action. You had a wife, and a good wife, and you +had some chance of being happy; but with a wife and a mistress, granting +them to be both the best of their kind, the probabilities are rather +against you. I speak only as a man of the world: morality, you know, is +now merely an affair of calculation. According to the most approved +tables of happiness, you have made a bad bargain. But be just, at any +rate, and do not blame your Olivia for the inconveniences and evils +inseparable from the species of connexion that you have been pleased to +form. Do you expect the whole course of society and the nature of the +human heart to change for your special accommodation? Do you believe in +truth by wholesale, and yet in detail expect a happy exception in your +own favour?--Seriously, my dear friend, you must either break off this +connexion or bear it. I shall see you in a few days. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxxxvij. + + _Mrs C---- to Miss B----._ + + + L---- Castle. + +Leonora has recovered her strength surprisingly. She was so determined +to be well, that her body dared not contradict her mind. Her excellent +mother has been of the greatest possible service to us, for she has had +sufficient influence to prevent her daughter from exerting herself too +much. Her grace had a letter from Mr L---- to-day--very short--but very +kind--at least all that I heard read of it. He has set my heart somewhat +more at ease by the comfortable assurance, that he will not leave +England without seeing Lady Leonora. I have the greatest hopes from this +interview! I have not felt so happy for many months--but I will not be +too sanguine. Mr L---- talks of being here the latter end of this month. +The duchess, with her usual prudence, intends to leave her daughter +before that time, lest Mr L---- should be constrained by her presence, +or should imagine that Leonora acts from any impulse but that of her own +heart. I also, though much against my inclinations, shall decamp; for he +might perhaps consider me as an adviser, caballer, confidante, or at +least a troublesome spectator. All reconciliation scenes should be +without spectators. Men do not like to be seen on their knees: they are +at a loss, like Sir Walter Raleigh in "The Critic;" they cannot get off +gracefully. + + I am, dear Margaret, + Yours affectionately, + Helen C----. + + + + + Letter lxxxviij. + + _General B---- to Mr L----._ + + + Friday. + + My dear L----, + +Ask yourself, in the name of common sense, why you should go to +Petersburg with this sentimental coquette, this romantic termagant, of +whom I see you are already more than half tired. As to your being bound +to her in honour, I cannot see how. Why should you make honour, justice, +humanity, and gratitude, plead so finely all on one side, and that the +wrong side of the question? Have none of these one word to whisper in +favour of anybody in this world but of a worthless mistress, who makes +you miserable? I think you have learned from your heroine to be so +expert in sentimental logic, that you can change virtues into vices, and +vices into virtues, till at last you do not know them asunder. Else why +should you make it a point of conscience to abandon your wife--just at +the moment, too, when you are thoroughly convinced of her love for you, +when you are touched to the soul by her generous conduct, and when your +heart longs to return to her? + +Please to remember that this Lady Olivia's reputation was not +unimpeached before her acquaintance with you, and do not take more glory +or more blame to yourself than properly falls to your share. Do not +forget that _poor_ R*** was your predecessor, and do not let this +delicate lady rest all the weight of her shame upon you, as certain +Chinese culprits rest their portable pillories on the shoulders of +their friends. + +In two days I shall follow this letter, and repeat in person all the +interrogatories I have just put to you, my dear friend. Prepare yourself +to answer me sincerely such questions as I shall ask. + + Yours truly, + J. B. + + + + + Letter lxxxix. + + _From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Monday, 12 o'clock. + +For a few days did you say? To _bid adieu_? Oh! if once more you return +to that fatal castle, that enchanted home, Olivia for ever loses all +power over your heart. Bid her die, stab her to the heart, and she will +call it mercy, and she will bless you with her dying lips; but talk not +of leaving your Olivia! On her knees she writes this, her face all +bathed in tears. And must she in her turn implore and supplicate? Must +she abase herself even to the dust? Yes--love like hers vanquishes even +the stubborn potency of female pride. + + Your too fond + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xc. + +_From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + [Dated a few hours after the preceding.] + + + Monday, half-past three. + +Oh! this equivocating answer to my fond heart! Passion makes and admits +of no compromise. Be mine, and wholly mine--or never, never will I +survive your desertion! I can be happy only whilst I love; I can love +only whilst I am beloved with fervency equal to my own; and when I cease +to love, I cease to exist! No coward fears restrain my soul. The word +suicide shocks not my ear, appals not my understanding. Death I consider +but as the eternal rest of the wretched--the sweet, the sole refuge of +despair. + + Your resolute + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xci. + + + _From Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Tuesday. + +Return! return! on the wings of love return to the calm, the prudent, +the happy, the transcendently happy Leonora! Return--but not to bid her +adieu--return to be hers for ever, and only hers. I give you back your +faith--I _give_ you back your promises--you have _taken_ back your +heart. + +But if you should desire once more to see Olivia, if you should have any +lingering wish to bid her a last adieu, it must be this evening. +To-morrow's sun rises not for Olivia. For her but a few short hours +remain. Love, let them be all thy own! Intoxicate thy victim, mingle +pleasure in the cup of death, and bid her fearless quaff it to the +dregs!---- + + + + + Letter xcij. + + _Mr L---- to General B----._ + + + Thursday. + + My dear Friend, + +You have by argument and raillery, and by every means that kindness and +goodness could devise, endeavoured to expel from my mind a passion which +you justly foresaw would be destructive of my happiness, and of the +peace of a most estimable and amiable woman. With all the skill that a +thorough knowledge of human nature in general, and of my peculiar +character and foibles, could bestow, you have employed those + + ----"Words and spells which can control, + Between the fits, the fever of the soul." + +Circumstances have operated in conjunction with your skill to "medicine +me to repose." The fits have gradually become weaker and weaker, the +fever is now gone, but I am still to suffer for the extravagancies +committed during its delirium. I have entered into engagements which +must be fulfilled; I have involved myself in difficulties from which I +see no method of extricating myself honourably. Notwithstanding all the +latitude which the system of modern gallantry allows to the conscience +of our sex, and in spite of the convenient maxim, which maintains that +all arts are allowable in love and war, I think that a man cannot break +a promise, whether made in words or by tacit implication, on the faith +of which a woman sacrifices her reputation and happiness. Lady Olivia +has thrown herself upon my protection. I am as sensible as you can be, +my dear general, that scandal had attacked her reputation before our +acquaintance commenced; but though the world had suspicions, they had no +proofs: now there can be no longer any defence made for her character, +there is no possibility of her returning to that rank in society to +which she was entitled by her birth, and which she adorned with all the +brilliant charms of wit and beauty; no happiness, no chance of happiness +remains for her but from my constancy. Of naturally violent passions, +unused to the control of authority, habit, reason, or religion, and at +this time impelled by love and jealousy, Olivia is on the brink of +despair. I am not apt to believe that women die in modern times for +love, nor am I easily disposed to think that I could inspire a dangerous +degree of enthusiasm; yet I am persuaded that Olivia's passion, +compounded as it is of various sentiments beside love, has taken such +possession of her imagination, and is, as she fancies, so necessary to +her existence, that if I were to abandon her, she would destroy that +life, which she has already attempted, I thank God! ineffectually. What +a spectacle is a woman in a paroxysm of rage!--a woman we love, or whom +we have loved! + + * * * * * + +Excuse me, my dear friend, if I wrote incoherently, for I have been +interrupted many times since I began this letter. I am this day +overwhelmed by a multiplicity of affairs, which, in consequence of +Olivia's urgency to leave England immediately, must be settled with an +expedition for which my head is not at present well qualified. I do not +feel well: I can command my attention but on one subject, and on that +all my thoughts are to no purpose. Whichever way I now act, I must +endure and inflict misery. I must either part from a wife who has given +me the most tender, the most touching proofs of affection--a wife who is +all that a man can esteem, admire, and love; or I must abandon a +mistress, who loves me with all the desperation of passion to which she +would fall a sacrifice. But why do I talk as if I were still at liberty +to make a choice?--My head is certainly very confused. I forgot that I +am bound by a solemn promise, and this is the evil which distracts me. I +will give you, if I can, a clear narrative. + +Last night I had a terrible scene with Olivia. I foresaw that she would +be alarmed by my intended visit to L---- Castle, even though it was but +to take leave of my Leonora. I abstained from seeing Olivia to avoid +altercation, and with all the delicacy in my power I wrote to her, +assuring her that my resolution was fixed. Note after note came from +her, with pathetic and passionate appeals to my heart; but I was still +resolute. At length, the day before that on which I was to set out for +L---- Castle, she wrote to warn me, that if I wished to take a last +farewell, I must see her that evening: her note concluded with, +"To-morrow's sun will not rise for Olivia." This threat, and many +strange hints of her opinions concerning suicide, I at the time +disregarded, as only thrown out to intimidate a lover. However, knowing +the violence of Olivia's temper, I was punctual to the appointed hour, +fully determined by my firmness to convince her that these female wiles +were vain. + +My dear friend, I would not advise the wisest man and the most +courageous upon earth to brave such dangers, confident in his strength. +Even a victory may cost him too dear. + +I found Olivia reclining on a sofa, her beautiful tresses unbound, her +dress the perfection of elegant negligence. I half suspected that it was +studied negligence; yet I could not help pausing, as I entered, to +contemplate a figure. She never looked more beautiful--more fascinating. +Holding out her hand to me, she said, with her languid smile and tender +expression of voice and manner, "You _are_ come then to bid me farewell. +I doubted whether . . . But I will not upbraid--mine be all the pain of +this last adieu. During the few minutes we have to pass together, + + 'Between us two let there be peace.'" + +I sat down beside her, rather agitated, I confess, but commanding myself +so that my emotion could not be visible. In a composed tone I asked, why +she spoke of a last adieu? and observed that we should meet again in a +few days. + +"Never!" replied Olivia. "Weak woman as I am, love inspires me with +sufficient force to make and to keep this resolution." + +As she spoke, she took from her bosom a rose, and presenting it to me in +a solemn manner, "Put this rose into water to-night," continued she; +"to-morrow it will be alive!" + +Her look, her expressive eyes, seemed to say, This flower will be alive, +but Olivia will be dead. I am ashamed to confess that I was silent, +because I could not just then speak. + +"I have used some precaution," resumed Olivia, "to spare you, my dearest +L----, unnecessary pain.--Look around you." + +The room, I now for the first time observed, was ornamented with +flowers. + +"This apartment, I hope," continued she, "has not the air of the chamber +of death. I have endeavoured to give it a festive appearance, that the +remembrance of your last interview with your once loved Olivia may be at +least unmixed with horror." + +At this instant, my dear general, a confused recollection of Rousseau's +Heloise, the dying scene, and her room ornamented with flowers, came +into my imagination, and destroying the idea of reality, changed +suddenly the whole course of my feelings. + +In a tone of raillery I represented to Olivia her resemblance to Julie, +and observed that it was a pity she had not a lover whose temper was +more similar than mine to that of the divine St Preux. Stung to the +heart by my ill-timed raillery, Olivia started up from the sofa, broke +from my arms with sudden force, snatched from the table a penknife, and +plunged it into her side. + +She was about to repeat the blow, but I caught her arm--she +struggled--"Promise me, then," cried she, "that you will never more see +my hated rival." + +"I cannot make such a promise, Olivia," said I, holding her uplifted arm +forcibly. "I will not." + +The words "hated rival," which showed me that Olivia was actuated more +by the spirit of hatred than love, made me reply in as decided a tone as +even you could have spoken, my dear general. But I was shocked, and +reproached myself with cruelty, when I saw the blood flow from her side; +she was terrified. I took the knife from her powerless hand, and she +fainted in my arms. I had sufficient presence of mind to reflect that +what had happened should be kept as secret as possible; therefore, +without summoning Josephine, whose attachment to her mistress I have +reason to suspect, I threw open the windows, gave Olivia air and water, +and her senses returned: then I despatched my Swiss for a surgeon. I +need not speak of my own feelings--no suspense could be more dreadful +than that which I endured between the sending for the surgeon and the +moment when he gave his opinion. He relieved me at once, by pronouncing +it to be a slight flesh wound, that would be of no manner of +consequence. Olivia, however, whether from alarm or pain, or from the +sight of the blood, fainted three times during the dressing of her side; +and though the surgeon assured her that it would be perfectly well in a +few days, she was evidently apprehensive that we concealed from her the +real danger. At the idea of the approach of death, which now took +possession of her imagination, all courage forsook her, and for some +time my efforts to support her spirits were ineffectual. She could not +dispense with the services of Josephine; and from the moment this French +woman entered the room, there was nothing to be heard but exclamations +the most violent and noisy. As to assistance, she could give none. At +last her exaggerated demonstrations of horror and grief ended +with--"Dieu merci! au moins nous voila delivres de ce voyage affreux. +Apparemment qu'il ne sera plus question de ce vilain Petersburg pour +madame." + +A new train of thoughts was roused by these words in Olivia's mind; and +looking at me, she eagerly inquired why the journey to Petersburg was to +be given up, if she was in no danger? I assured her that Josephine spoke +at random, that my intentions with regard to the embassy to Russia were +unaltered. + +"Seulement retarde un peu," said Josephine, who was intent only upon her +own selfish object.--"Surement, madame ne voyagera pas dans cet etat!" + +Olivia started up, and looking at me with terrific wildness in her eyes, +"Swear to me," said she, "swear that you will not deceive me, or I will +this instant tear open this wound, and never more suffer it to be +closed." + +"Deceive you, Olivia!" cried I, "what deceit can you fear from me?--What +is it you require of me?" + +"I require from you a promise, a solemn promise, that you will go with +_me_ to Russia!" + +"I solemnly promise that I will," said I: "now be tranquil, Olivia, I +beseech you." + +The surgeon represented the necessity of keeping herself quiet, and +declared that he would not answer for the cure of his patient on any +other terms. Satisfied by the solemnity of my promise, Olivia now +suffered me to depart. This morning she sends me word that in a few days +she shall be ready to leave England. Can you meet me, my dear friend, at +L---- Castle? I go down there to-day, to bid adieu to Leonora. From +thence I shall proceed to Yarmouth, and embark immediately. Olivia will +follow me. + + Your obliged + F. L----. + + + + + Letter xciij. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + L---- Castle. + + Dearest Mother, + +My husband is here! at home with me, with your happy Leonora--and his +heart is with her. His looks, his voice, his manner tell me so, and by +them I never was deceived. No, he is incapable of deceit. Whatever have +been his errors, he never stooped to dissimulation. He is again my own, +still capable of loving me, still worthy of all my affection. I knew +that the delusion could not last long, or rather you told me so, my best +friend, and I believed you; you did him justice. He was indeed +deceived--who might not have been deceived by Olivia? His passions were +under the power of an enchantress; but now he has triumphed over her +arts. He sees her such as she is, and her influence ceases. + +I am not absolutely certain of all this; but I believe, because I hope +it! yet he is evidently embarrassed, and seems unhappy: what can be the +meaning of this? Perhaps he does not yet know his Leonora sufficiently +to be secure of her forgiveness. How I long to set his heart at ease, +and to say to him, let the past be forgotten for ever! How easy it is +to the happy to forgive! There have been moments when I could not, I +fear, have been just, when I am sure that I could not have been +generous. I shall immediately offer to accompany Mr L----to Russia; I +can have no farther hesitation, for I see that he wishes it; indeed, +just now he almost said so. His baggage is already embarked at +Yarmouth--he sails in a few days--and in a few hours your daughter's +fate, your daughter's happiness, will be decided. It is decided, for I +am sure he loves me; I see, I hear, I feel it. Dearest mother, I write +to you in the first moment of joy.--I hear his foot upon the stairs. + + Your happy + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter xciv. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + L---- Castle. + + My dear Mother, + +My hopes are all vain. Your prophecies will never be accomplished. We +have both been mistaken in Mr L----'s character, and henceforward your +daughter must not depend upon him for any portion of her happiness. I +once thought it impossible that my love for him could be diminished: he +has changed my opinion. Mine is not that species of weak or abject +affection which can exist under the sense of ill treatment and +injustice, much less can my love survive esteem for its object. + +I told you, my dear mother, and I believed, that his affections had +returned to me; but I was mistaken. He has not sufficient strength or +generosity of soul to love me, or to do justice to my love. I offered +to go with him to Russia: he answered, "That is +impossible."--Impossible!--Is it then impossible for him to do that +which is just or honourable? or seeing what is right, must he follow +what is wrong? or can his heart never more be touched by virtuous +affections? Is his taste so changed, so depraved, that he can now be +pleased and charmed only by what is despicable and profligate in our +sex? Then I should rejoice that we are to be separated--separated for +ever. May years and years pass away and wear out, if possible, the +memory of all he has been to me! I think I could better, much better +bear the total loss, the death of him I have loved, than endure to feel +that he had survived both my affection and esteem; to see the person the +same, but the soul changed; to feel every day, every hour, that I must +despise what I have so admired and loved. + +Mr L---- is gone from hence. He leaves England the day after to-morrow. +Lady Olivia is to _follow_ him. I am glad that public decency is not to +be outraged by their embarking together. My dearest mother, be assured +that at this moment your daughter's feelings are worthy of you. +Indignation and the pride of virtue support her spirit. + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter xcv. + + _General B---- to Lady Leonora L----._ + + + Yarmouth. + +Had I not the highest confidence in Lady Leonora L----'s fortitude, I +should not venture to write to her at this moment, knowing as I do that +she is but just recovered from a dangerous illness. + +Mr L---- had requested me to meet him at L----Castle previous to his +leaving England, but it was out of my power. I met him however on the +road to Yarmouth, and as we travelled together I had full opportunity of +seeing the state of his mind. Permit me--the urgency of the case +requires it--to speak without reserve, with the freedom of an old +friend. I imagine that your ladyship parted from Mr L----with feelings +of indignation, at which I cannot be surprised: but if you had seen him +as I saw him, indignation would have given way to pity. Loving you, +madam, as you deserve to be loved, most ardently, most tenderly; touched +to his inmost soul by the proofs of affection he had seen in your +letters, in your whole conduct, even to the last moment of parting; my +unhappy friend felt himself bound to resist the temptation of staying +with you, or of accepting your generous offer to accompany him to +Petersburg. He thought himself bound in honour by a promise extorted +from him to save from suicide one whom he thinks he has injured, one who +has thrown herself upon his protection. Of the conflict in his mind at +parting with your ladyship I can judge from what he suffered afterwards. +I met Mr L---- with feelings of extreme indignation, but before I had +been an hour in his company, I never pitied any man so much in my life, +for I never yet saw any one so truly wretched, and so thoroughly +convinced that he deserved to be so. You know that he is not one who +often gives way to his emotions, not one who expresses them much in +words--but he could not command his feelings. + +The struggle was too violent. I have no doubt that it was the real cause +of his present illness. As the moment approached when he was to leave +England, he became more and more agitated. Towards evening he sunk into +a sort of apathy and gloomy silence, from which he suddenly broke into +delirious raving. At twelve o'clock last night, the night he was to +have sailed, he was seized with a violent and infectious fever. As to +the degree of immediate danger, the physicians here cannot yet +pronounce. I have sent to town for Dr *****. Your ladyship may be +certain that I shall not quit my friend, and that he shall have every +possible assistance and attendance. + + I am, with the truest esteem, + Your ladyship's faithful servant, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xcvi. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + L---- Castle. + + Dear Mother, + +This moment an express from General B----. Mr L---- is dangerously ill +at Yarmouth--a fever brought on by the agitation of his mind. How unjust +I have been! Forget all I said in my last. I write in the utmost +haste--just setting out for Yarmouth. I hope to be there to-morrow. + + Your affectionate + Leonora L----. + +I open this to enclose the general's letter, which will explain +everything. + + + + + Letter xcvij. + + _General B---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dear Madam, + +Your grace, I find, is apprised of Lady Leonora L----'s journey hither: +I fear that you rely upon my prudence for preventing her exposing +herself to the danger of catching this dreadful fever. But that has been +beyond my power. Her ladyship arrived late last night. I had foreseen +the probability of her coming, but not the possibility of her coming so +soon. I had taken no precautions, and she was in the house and upon the +stairs in an instant. No entreaties, no arguments could stop her; I +assured her that Mr L----'s fever was pronounced by all the physicians +to be of the most infectious kind. Dr ***** joined me in representing +that she would expose her life to almost certain danger if she persisted +in her determination to see her husband; but she pressed forward, +regardless of all that could be said. To the physicians she made no +answer; to me she replied, "You are Mr L----'s friend, but I am his +wife: you have not feared to hazard your life for him, and do you think +I can hesitate?" I urged that there was no necessity for more than one +person's running this hazard; and that since it had fallen to my lot to +be with my friend when he was first taken ill----She interrupted me--"Is +not this taking a cruel advantage of me, general? You know that I, too, +would have been with Mr L---- if--if it had been possible." Her manner, +her pathetic emphasis, and the force of her implied meaning, struck me +so much, that I was silent, and suffered her to pass on; but again the +idea of her danger rushing upon my mind, I sprang before her to the door +of Mr L----'s apartment, and opposed her entrance. "Then, general," said +she calmly, "perhaps you mistake me--perhaps you have heard repeated +some unguarded words of mine in the moment of indignation . . . unjust . . . +you best know how unjust indignation!--and you infer from these that +my affection for my husband is extinguished. I deserve this--but do not +punish me too severely." + +I still kept my hand upon the lock of the door, expostulating with Lady +Leonora in your grace's name, and in Mr L----'s assuring her that if he +were conscious of what was passing, and able to speak, he would order me +to prevent her seeing him in his present situation. + +"And you, too, general!" said she, bursting into tears: "I thought you +were my friend--would you prevent me from seeing him? And is not he +conscious of what is passing? And is not he able to speak? Sir, I must +be admitted! You have done your duty--now let me do mine. Consider, my +right is superior to yours. No power on earth should or can prevent a +wife from seeing her husband when he is . . . Dear, dear general!" said +she, clasping her raised hands, and falling suddenly at my feet, "let me +see him but for one minute, and I will be grateful to you for ever!" + +I could resist no longer--I tremble for the consequences. I know your +grace sufficiently to be aware that you ought to be told the whole +truth. I have but little hopes of my poor friend's life. + + With much respect, + Your grace's faithful servant, + J. B. + + + + + Letter xcviij. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond. + +A mist hung over my eyes, and "my ears with hollow murmurs rung," when +the dreadful tidings of your alarming illness were announced by your +cruel messenger. My dearest L----! why does inexorable destiny doom me +to be absent from you at such a crisis? Oh! this fatal wound of mine! It +would, I fear, certainly open again if I were to travel. So this +corporeal being must be imprisoned here, while my anxious soul, my +viewless spirit, hovers near you, longing to minister each tender +consolation, each nameless comfort that love alone can, with fond +prescience and magic speed, summon round the couch of pain. + +"O that I had the wings of a dove, that I might fly to you!" Why must I +resign the sweetly-painful task of soothing you in the hour of sickness? +And shall others, with officious zeal, + + "Guess the faint wish, explain the asking eye"? + +Alas! it must be so--even were I to fly to him, my sensibility could not +support the scene. To behold him stretched on the bed of +disease--perhaps of death--would be agony past endurance. Let firmer +nerves than Olivia's, and hearts more callous, assume the offices from +which they shrink not. 'Tis the fate, the hard fate of all endued with +exquisite sensibility, to be palsied by the excess of their feelings, +and to become imbecile at the moment their exertions are most necessary. + + Your too tenderly sympathizing + Olivia. + + + + + Letter xcix. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + +My husband is alive, and that is all. Never did I see, nor could I have +conceived, such a change, and in so short a time! When I opened the +door, his eyes turned upon me with unmeaning eagerness: he did not know +me. The good general thought my voice might have some effect. I spoke, +but could obtain no answer, no sign of intelligence. In vain I called +upon him by every name that used to reach his heart. I kneeled beside +him, and took one of his burning hands in mine. I kissed it, and +suddenly he started up, exclaiming, "Olivia! Olivia!" with dreadful +vehemence. In his delirium he raved about Olivia's stabbing herself, and +called upon us to hold her arm, looking wildly towards the foot of the +bed, as if the figure were actually before him. Then he sunk back, as if +quite exhausted, and gave a deep sigh. Some of my tears fell upon his +hand; he felt them before I perceived that they had fallen, and looked +so earnestly in my face, that I was in hopes his recollection was +returning; but he only said, "Olivia, I believe that you love me;" then +sighed more deeply than before, drew his hand away from me, and, as well +as I could distinguish, said something about Leonora. + +But why should I give you the pain of hearing all these circumstances, +my dear mother? It is enough to say, that he passed a dreadful night. +This morning the physicians say, that if he passes this night--if----my +dear mother, what a terrible suspense! + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter c. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + +Morning is at last come, and my husband is still alive: so there is yet +hope. When I said I thought I could bear to survive him, how little I +knew of myself, and how little, how very little I expected to be so soon +tried! All evils are remediable but one, that one which I dare not name. + +The physicians assure me that he is better. His friend, to whose +judgment I trust more, thinks as they do. I know not what to believe. I +dread to flatter myself and to be disappointed. I will write again, +dearest mother, to-morrow. + + Your ever affectionate + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter ci. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Wednesday. + +No material change since yesterday, my dear mother. This morning, as I +was searching for some medicine, I saw on the chimney-piece a note from +Lady Olivia ----. It might have been there yesterday, and ever since my +arrival, but I did not see it. At any other time it would have excited +my indignation, but my mind is now too much weakened by sorrow. My fears +for my husband's life absorb all other feelings. + + + + + Letter cij. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond. + +Words cannot express what I have suffered since I wrote last! Oh! why do +I not hear that the danger is over!--Long since would I have been with +you, all that my soul holds dear, could I have escaped from these +tyrants, these medical despots, who detain me by absolute force, and +watch over me with unrelenting vigilance. I have consulted Dr ***, who +assures me that my fears of my wound opening, were I to take so long a +journey, are too well-founded; that in the present feverish state of my +mind he would not answer for the consequences. I heed him not--life I +value not.--Most joyfully would I sacrifice myself for the man I love. +But even could I escape from my persecutors, too well I know that to see +you would be a vain attempt--too well I know that I should not be +admitted. Your love, your fears for Olivia would barbarously banish her +and forbid her your dear, your dangerous atmosphere. Too justly would +you urge that my rashness might prove our mutual ruin--that in the +moment of crisis or of convalescence, anxiety for me might defeat the +kind purpose of nature. And even were I secure of your recovery, the +delay, I speak not of the danger of my catching the disease, would, +circumstanced as we are, be death to our hopes. We should be compelled +to part. The winds would waft you from me. The waves would bear you to +another region, far--oh, far from your + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter ciij. + + _General B---- to the Duchess of ----_ + + + Yarmouth, Thursday, --. + + My dear Madam, + +Mr L---- has had a relapse, and is now more alarmingly ill than I have +yet seen him: he does not know his situation, for his delirium has +returned. The physicians give him over. Dr H---- says that we must +prepare for the worst. + +I have but one word of comfort for your grace--that your admirable +daughter's health has not yet suffered. + + Your grace's faithful servant, + J. B. + + + + + Letter civ. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dearest Mother, + +The delirium has subsided. A few minutes ago, as I was kneeling beside +him, offering up an almost hopeless prayer for his recovery, his eyes +opened, and I perceived that he knew me. He closed his eyes again +without speaking, opened them once more, and then looking at me fixedly, +exclaimed: "It is not a dream! You are Leonora!--_my_ Leonora!" + +What exquisite pleasure I felt at the sound of these words, at the tone +in which they were pronounced! My husband folded me in his arms; and, +till I felt his burning lips, I forgot that he was ill. + +When he came thoroughly to his recollection, and when the idea that his +fever might be infectious occurred to him, he endeavoured to prevail +upon me to leave the room. But what danger can there be for me _now_? My +whole soul, my whole frame is inspired with new life. If he recover, +your daughter may still be happy. + + + + + Letter cv. + + _General B---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + My dear Madam, + +A few hours ago my friend became perfectly sensible of his danger, and +calling me to his bedside, told me that he was eager to make use of the +little time which he might have to live. He was quite calm and +collected. He employed me to write his last wishes and bequests; and I +must do him the justice to declare, that the strongest idea and feeling +in his mind evidently was the desire to show his entire confidence in +his wife, and to give her, in his last moments, proofs of his esteem and +affection. When he had settled his affairs, he begged to be left alone +for some time. Between twelve and one his bell rang, and he desired to +see Lady Leonora and me. He spoke to me with that warmth of friendship +which he has ever felt from our childhood. Then turning to his wife, his +voice utterly failed, and he could only press to his lips that hand +which was held out to him in speechless agony. + +"Excellent woman!" he articulated at last; then collecting his mind, he +exclaimed, "My beloved Leonora, I will not die without expressing my +feelings for you; I know yours for me. I do not ask for that forgiveness +which your generous heart granted long before I deserved it. Your +affection for me has been shown by actions, at the hazard of your life; +I can only thank you with weak words. You possess my whole heart, my +esteem, my admiration, my gratitude." + +Lady Leonora, at the word _gratitude_, made an effort to speak, and laid +her hand upon her husband's lips. He added, in a more enthusiastic tone, +"You have my undivided love. Believe in the truth of these +words--perhaps they are the last I may ever speak." + +My friend sunk back exhausted, and I carried Lady Leonora out of the +room. + +I returned half an hour ago, and found everything silent: Mr L---- is +lying with his eyes closed--quite still--I hope asleep. This may be a +favourable crisis. I cannot delay this letter longer. + + Your grace's faithful servant, + J. B. + + + + + Letter cvi. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + + Dearest Mother, + +He has slept several hours.--Dr H----, the most skilful of all his +physicians, says that we may now expect his recovery. Adieu. The good +general will add a line to assure you that I am not deceived, nor too +sanguine. + + Yours most affectionately, + Leonora L----. + + _Postscript by General B----._ + +I have some hopes--that is all I can venture to say to your grace. + + + + + Letter cvij. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + + Dearest Mother, + +Excellent news for you to-day!--Mr L---- is pronounced out of danger. He +seems excessively touched by my coming here, and so grateful for the +little kindness I have been able to show him during his illness! But, +alas! that fatal promise! the recollection of it comes across my mind +like a spectre. Mr L---- has never touched upon this subject--I do all +in my power to divert his thoughts to indifferent objects. + +This morning, when I went into his room, I found him tearing to pieces +that note which I mentioned to you a few days ago. He seemed much +agitated, and desired to see General B----. They are now together, and +were talking so loud in the next room to me, that I was obliged to +retire, lest I should overhear secrets. Mr L---- this moment sends for +me. If I should not have time to add more, this short letter will +satisfy you for to-day. + + Leonora L----. + +I open my letter to say, that I am not so happy as I was when I began +it. I have heard all the circumstances relative to this terrible affair. +Mr L---- will go to Russia. I am as far from happiness as ever. + + + + + Letter cviij. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond. + + "Say, is not absence death to those that love?" + +How just, how beautiful a sentiment! yet cold and callous is that heart +which knows not that there is a pang more dreadful than absence--far as +the death of lingering torture exceeds, in corporeal sufferance, the +soft slumber of expiring nature. Suspense! suspense! compared with thy +racking agony, even absence is but the blessed euthanasia of love. + +My dearest L----, why this torturing silence? one line, one word, I +beseech you, from _your own hand_; say but _I live and love you, my +Olivia_. Hour after hour, and day after day, have I waited and waited, +and hoped, and feared to hear from you. O, this intolerable agonizing +suspense! Yet hope clings to my fond heart--hope! sweet treacherous +hope! + + "Non so si la Speranza + Va con l'inganno unita; + So che mantiene in vita + Qualche infelici almen." + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter cix. + + _Mr L---- to Olivia._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dear Olivia, + +This is the first line I have written since my illness. I could not +sooner relieve you from suspense, for during most of this time I have +been delirious, and never till now able to write. My physicians have +this morning pronounced me out of danger; and as soon as my strength is +sufficient to bear the voyage, I shall sail, according to my promise. + +Your prudence, or that of your physician, has saved me much +anxiety--perhaps saved my life: for had you been so rash as to come +hither, beside my fears for your safety, I should have been exposed, in +the moment of my returning reason, to a conflict of passions which I +could not have borne. + +Leonora is with me; she arrived the night after I was taken ill, and +forced her way to me, when my fever was at the highest, and while I was +in a state of delirium. + +Lady Leonora will stay with me till the moment I sail, which I expect to +do in about ten days. I cannot say positively, for I am still very weak, +and may not be able to keep my word to a day. Adieu. I hope your mind +will now be at ease. I am glad to hear from the surgeon that your wound +is quite closed. I will write again, and more fully, when I am better +able. Believe me, Olivia, I am most anxious to secure your happiness: +allow me to believe that this will be in the power of + + Yours sincerely, + F. L----. + + + + + Letter cx. + + _Olivia to Mr L----._ + + + Richmond. + +Barbarous man! with what cold cruelty you plunge a dagger into my heart! +Leonora is with you!--Leonora! Then I am undone. Yes, she will--she has +resumed all her power, her rights, her habitual empire over your heart. +Wretched Olivia!--But you say it is your wish to secure my happiness, +you bid me allow you to believe it is in your power. What phrases!--You +will sail, _according to your promise_.--Then nothing but your honour +binds you to Olivia. And even now, at this guilty instant, in your +secret soul, you wish, you expect from my offended pride, from my +disgusted delicacy, a renunciation of this promise, a release from all +the ties that bind you to me. You are right: this is what I ought to do; +what I would do, if love had not so weakened my soul, so prostrated my +spirit, rendered me so abject a creature, that _I cannot_ what _I +would_. + +I must love on--female pride and resentment call upon me in vain. I +cannot hate you. Even by the feeble tie, which I see you long to break, +I must hold, rather than let you go for ever. I will not renounce your +promise. I claim it. I adjure you, by all which a man of honour holds +most sacred, to quit England the moment your health will allow you to +sail. No equivocating with your conscience!--I hold you to your word. +Oh, my dearest L----! to feel myself reduced to use such language to +you, to find myself clinging to that last resource of shipwrecked love, +_a promise_! It is with unspeakable agony I feel all this; lower I +cannot sink in misery. Raise me, if indeed you wish my happiness--raise +me! it is yet in your power. Tell me, that my too susceptible heart has +mistaken phantoms for realities--tell me, that your last was not colder +than usual; yes, I am ready to be deceived. Tell me that it was only the +languor of disease; assure me that my rival forced her way only to your +presence, that she has not won her easy way back to your heart--assure +me that you are impatient once more to see your own + + Olivia. + + + + + Letter cxi. + + _Leonora to her mother._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dearest Mother, + +Can you believe or imagine that I am actually unwilling to say or to +think that Mr L---- is quite well? yet this is the fact. Such is the +inconsistency and weakness of our natures--of my nature, I should say. +But a short time ago I thought that no evil could be so great as his +danger; now that danger is past, I dread to hear him say that he is +perfectly recovered. The moment he is able he goes to Russia; that is +decided irrevocably. The promise has been claimed and repeated. A solemn +promise cannot be broken for any human consideration. I should despise +him if he broke it; but can I love him for keeping it? His mind is at +this instant agitated as much as mine is--more it cannot. Yet I ought to +be better able to part with him now than when we parted before, because +I have now at least the consolation of knowing that he leaves me against +his will--that his heart will not go from me. This time I cannot be +deceived; I have had the most explicit assurances of his _undivided_ +love. And indeed I was never deceived. All the appearances of regret at +parting with me were genuine. The general witnessed the consequent +struggle in Mr L----'s mind, and this fever followed. + +I will endeavour to calm and content myself with the possession of his +love, and with the assurance that he will return to me as soon as +possible. As soon as possible! but what a vague hope! He sails with the +first fair wind. What a dreadful certainty! Perhaps to-morrow! Oh, my +dearest mother, perhaps to-night! + + Leonora L----. + + + + + Letter cxij. + + _General B---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Yarmouth. + + My dear Madam, + +To-day Mr L----, finding himself sufficiently recovered, gave orders to +all his suite to embark, and the wind being fair, determined to go on +board immediately. In the midst of the bustle of the preparations for +his departure, Lady Leonora, exhausted by her former activity, and +unable to take any part in what was passing, sat silent, pale and +motionless, opposite to a window, which looked out upon the sea; the +vessel in which her husband was to sail lay in sight, and her eyes were +fixed upon the streamers, watching their motion in the wind. + +Mr L---- was in his own apartment writing letters. An express arrived; +and among other letters for the English ambassador to Russia, there was +a large packet directed to Lady Leonora L----. Upon opening it the +crimson colour flew into her face, and she exclaimed, "Olivia's +letters!--Lady Olivia ----'s letters to Mad. de P----. Who could send +these to me?" + +"I give you joy with all my heart!" cried I; "no matter how they +come--they come in the most fortunate moment possible. I would stake my +life upon it they will unmask Olivia at once. Where is Mr L----? He must +read them this moment." + +I was hurrying out of the room to call my friend, but Lady Leonora +stopped my career, and checked the transport of my joy. + +"You do not think, my dear general," said she, "that I would for any +consideration do so dishonourable an action as to read these letters?" + +"Only let Mr L---- read them," interrupted I, "that is all I ask of your +ladyship. Give them to me. For the soul of me I can see nothing +dishonourable in this. Let Lady Olivia be judged by her own words. Your +ladyship shall not be troubled with her trash, but give the letters to +me, I beseech you." + +"No, I cannot," said Lady Leonora steadily. "It is a great temptation; +but I ought not to yield." She deliberately folded them up in a blank +cover, directed them to Lady Olivia, and sealed them; whilst I, half in +admiration and half in anger, went on expostulating. + +"Good God! this is being too generous! But, my dear Lady Leonora, why +will you sacrifice yourself? This is misplaced delicacy! Show those +letters, and I'll lay my life Mr L---- never goes to Russia." + +"My dear friend," said she, looking up with tears in her eyes, "do not +tempt me beyond my power to resist. Say no more." At this instant Mr +L---- came into the room; and I am ashamed to confess to your grace, I +really was so little master of myself, that I was upon the point of +seizing Olivia's letters, and putting them into his hands. "L----," said +I, "here is your admirable wife absurdly, yes, I must say it, absurdly +standing upon a point of honour with one who has none! That packet which +she has before her----" + +Lady Leonora imposed silence upon me by one of those looks which no man +can resist. + +"My dear Leonora, you are right," said Mr L----; "and you are almost +right, my dear general: I know what that packet contains; and without +doing anything dishonourable, I hold myself absolved from my promise; I +shall not go to Russia, my dearest wife!" He flew into her arms--and I +left them. I question whether they either of them felt much more than I +did. + +For some minutes I was content with knowing that these things had really +happened, that I had heard Mr L---- say he was absolved from all +promises, and that he would not go to Russia; but how did all this +happen so suddenly?--How did he know the contents of Olivia's letters, +and without doing anything dishonourable? There are some people who +cannot be perfectly happy till they know the _rationale_ of their +happiness. I am one of these. I did not feel "a sober certainty of +waking bliss," till I read a letter which Mr L----received by the same +express that brought Olivia's letters, and which he read while we were +debating. I beg your grace's pardon if I am too minute in explanation; +but I do as I would be done by. The letter was from one of the private +secretaries, who is, I understand, a relation and friend of Lady Leonora +L----. As the original goes this night to Lady Olivia, I send your grace +a copy. You will give me credit for copying, and at such a time as this! +I congratulate your grace, and + + I have the honour to be, &c., + J. B. + + + + + Letter cxiij. + + _To Mr L----._ + + + [Private.] + + London, St James's-street. + + My dear Sir, + +In the same moment you receive this, your lady, for whom I have the +highest regard, will receive from me a valuable present, a packet of +Lady Olivia ----'s letters to one of her French friends. These letters +were lately found in a French frigate, taken by one of our cruisers; +and, as _intercepted correspondence_ is the order of the day, these, +with all the despatches on board, were transmitted to our office to be +examined, in hopes of making reprisals of state secrets. Some letters +about the court and Emperor of Russia led us to suppose that we should +find some political manoeuvres, and we examined farther. The examination +fortunately fell to my lot, as private secretary. After looking them all +over, however, I found that these papers contain only family secrets: I +obtained permission to send them to Lady Leonora L----, to ensure the +triumph of virtue over vice--to put it into her ladyship's power +completely to unmask her unworthy rival. These letters will show you by +what arts you have been deceived. You will find yourself ridiculed as _a +cold awkward Englishman_; one who will _hottentot again, whatever pains +may be taken to civilise him; a man of ice_, to be taken as a lover from +_pure charity_, or _pure curiosity_, or the pure _besoin d'aimer_. Here +are many pure motives, of which you will, my dear sir, take your choice. +You will farther observe in one of her letters, that Lady Olivia +premeditated the design of prevailing with you to carry her to Russia, +that she might show her power _to that proudest of earthly prudes_, the +Duchess of ***, and that she might _gratify her great revenge against +Lady Leonora L----_. + +Sincerely hoping, my dear sir, that these letters may open your eyes, +and restore you and my amiable relation to domestic happiness, I make no +apology for the liberty I take, and cannot regret the momentary pain I +may inflict. You are at liberty to make what use you think proper of +this letter. + +I have it in command from my Lord ---- to add, that if your health, or +any other circumstances, should render this embassy to Russia less +desirable to you than it appeared some time ago, other arrangements can +be made, and another friend of Government is ready to supply your place. + + I am, my dear sir, + Yours, &c. + + * * * * * + + _To F. L----, Esq., &c._ + + + + + Letter cxiv. + + _From Lady Leonora L---- to the Duchess of ----._ + + + Yarmouth. + +Joy, dearest mother! Come and share your daughter's happiness! + + _Continued by General B----._ + + * * * * * + +Lady Olivia, thus unmasked by her own hand, has fled to the Continent, +declaring that she will never more return to England. There she is +right--England is not a country fit for such women.--But I will never +waste another word or thought upon her. + +Mr L--- has given up the Russian embassy, and returns with Lady Leonora +to L---- Castle to-morrow. He has invited me to accompany them. Lady +Leonora is now the happiest of wives, and your grace the happiest of +mothers. + + I have the honour and the pleasure to be + Your grace's sincerely attached, + J. B. + + + + + Letter cxv. + + _The Duchess of ---- to Lady Leonora L----._ + + +My beloved daughter, pride and delight of your happy mother's heart, I +give you joy! Your temper, fortitude, and persevering affection, have +now their just reward. Enjoy your happiness, heightened as it must be by +the sense of self-approbation, and the sympathy of all who know you. And +now let me indulge the vanity of a mother; let me exult in the +accomplishment of my prophecies, and let me be listened to with due +humility, when I prophesy again. With as much certainty as I foretold +what is now present, I foresee, my child, your future destiny, and I +predict that you will preserve while you live your husband's fondest +affections. Your prudence will prevent you from indulging too far your +taste for retirement, or for the exclusive society of your intimate +friends. Spend your winters in London: your rank, your fortune, and I +may be permitted to add, your character, manners, and abilities, give +you the power of drawing round you persons of the best information and +of the highest talents. Your husband will find, in such society, +everything that can attach him to his home; and in you his most rational +friend and his most charming companion, who will excite him to every +generous and noble exertion. + +For the good and wise there is in love a power unknown to the ignorant +and the vicious, a power of communicating fresh energy to all the +faculties of the soul, of exalting them to the highest state of +perfection. The friendship which in later life succeeds to such love is +perhaps the greatest, and certainly the most permanent blessing of life. + +An admirable German writer--you see, my dear, that I have no prejudices +against good German writers--an admirable German writer says, that "Love +is like the morning shadows, which diminish as the day advances; but +friendship is like the shadows of the evening, which increase even till +the setting of the sun." + + + THE END. + + + =Transcriber's Notes:= + hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in the original + Page 61, out of doubt, Admire ==> out of doubt. Admire + Page 88, the eclat of public ==> the eclat of public + Page 124, grave and inpenetrable ==> grave and impenetrable + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Leonora, by Maria Edgeworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEONORA *** + +***** This file should be named 35638.txt or 35638.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/6/3/35638/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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