by Mary Hays
[Footnote 18: Godwin's Caleb Williams.]
'Am I not sufficiently ingenuous?--I will give you a new proof of my frankness (though not the proof you require).--From the miserable consequences of wretched moral distinctions, from chastity having been considered as a sexual virtue, all these calamities have flowed. Men are thus rendered sordid and dissolute in their pleasures; their affections vitiated, and their feelings petrified; the simplicity of modest tenderness loses its charm; they become incapable of satisfying the heart of a woman of sensibility and virtue.--Half the sex, then, are the wretched, degraded, victims of brutal instinct: the remainder, if they sink not into mere frivolity and insipidity, are sublimed into a sort of--[what shall I call them?]--refined, romantic, factitious, unfortunate, beings; who, for the sake of the present moment, dare not expose themselves to complicated, inevitable, evils; evils, that will infallibly overwhelm them with misery and regret! Woe be, more especially, to those who, possessing the dangerous gifts of fancy and feeling, find it as difficult to discover a substitute for the object as for the sentiment! You, who are a philosopher, will you still controvert the principles founded in truth and nature? "Gross as is my folly," (and I do not deny it) "you may perceive I was not wholly wandering in darkness. But while the wintry sun of hope illumined the fairy frost-work with a single, slanting ray--dazzled by the transient brightness, I dreaded the meridian fervors that should dissolve the glittering charm." Yes! it was madness--but it was the pleasurable madness which none but madmen know.
'I cannot answer your question--Pain me not by its repetition; neither seek to ensnare me to the disclosure. Unkindly, severely, as I have been treated, I will not risque, even, the possibility of injuring the man, whom I have so tenderly loved, in the esteem of any one. Were I to name him, you know him not; you could not judge of his qualities. He is not "a model of excellence." I perceive it, with pain--and if obliged to retract my judgment on some parts of his character--I retract it with agonizing reluctance! But I could trace the sources of his errors, and candour and self-abasement imperiously compel me to a mild judgment, to stifle the petulant suggestions of a wounded spirit.
'Ought not our principles, my friend, to soften the asperity of our censures?--Could I have won him to my arms, I thought I could soften, and even elevate, his mind--a mind, in which I still perceive a great proportion of good. I weep for him, as well as for myself. He will, one day, know my value, and feel my loss. Still, I am sensible, that, by my extravagance, I have given a great deal of vexation (possibly some degradation), to a being, whom I had no right to persecute, or to compel to chuse happiness through a medium of my creation. I cannot exactly tell the extent of the injury I may have done him. A long train of consequences succeed, even, our most indifferent actions.--Strong energies, though they answer not the end proposed, must yet produce correspondent effects. Morals and mechanics are here analogous. No longer, then, distress me by the repetition of a question I ought not to answer. I am content to be the victim--Oh! may I be the only victim--of my folly!
'One more observation allow me to make, before I conclude. That we can "admire, esteem, and love," an individual--(for love in the abstract, loving mankind collectively, conveys to me no idea)--which must be, in fact, depending upon that individual for a large share of our felicity, and not lament his loss, in proportion to our apprehension of his worth, appears to me a proposition, involving in itself an absurdity; therefore demonstrably false.
'Let me, my friend, see you ere long--your remonstrance has affected me--save me from myself!'
TO THE SAME.
[In continuation.]
'My letter having been delayed a few days, through a mistake--I resume my pen; for, running my eye over what I had written, I perceive (confounded by the force of your expressions) I have granted you too much. My conduct was not, altogether, so insane as I have been willing to allow. It is certain, that could I have attained the end proposed, my happiness had been encreased. "It is necessary for me to love and admire, or I sink into sadness." The behaviour of the man, whom I sought to move, appeared to me too inconsistent to be the result of _indifference_. To be roused and stimulated by obstacles--obstacles admitting hope, because obscurely seen--is no mark of weakness. Could I have subdued, what I, _then_, conceived to be the _prejudices_ of a worthy man, I could have increased both his happiness and my own. I deeply reasoned, and philosophized, upon the subject. Perseverance, with little ability, has effected wonders;--with perseverance, I felt, that, I had the power of uniting ability--confiding in that power, I was the dupe of my own reason. No other man, perhaps, could have acted the part which this man has acted:--how, then, was I to take such a part into my calculations?
'Do not misconceive me--it is no miracle that I did not inspire affection. On this subject, the mortification I have suffered has humbled me, it may be, even, unduly in my own eyes--but to the emotions of my pride, I would disdain to give words. Whatever may have been my feelings, I am too proud to express the rage of slighted love!--Yet, I am sensible to all the powers of those charming lines of Pope--
"Unequal talk, a passion to resign, For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost, as mine! Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state, How often must it love, how often hate; How often hope, despair, resent, regret, Conceal, disdain, _do all things but forget_!"
'But to return. I pursued, comparatively, (as I thought) a certain good; and when, at times, discouraged, I have repeated to myself--What! after all these pains, shall I relinquish my efforts, when, perhaps, on the very verge of success?--To say nothing of the difficulty of forcing an active mind out of its trains--if I desisted, what was to be the result? The sensations I now feel--apathy, stagnation, abhorred vacuity!
'You cannot resist the force of my reasoning--you, who are acquainted with, who know how to paint, in colours true to nature, the human heart--you, who admire, as a proof of power, the destructive courage of an Alexander, even the fanatic fury of a Ravaillac--you, who honour the pernicious ambition of an Augustus Caesar, as bespeaking the potent, energetic, mind!--why should _you_ affect to be intolerant to a passion, though differing in nature, generated on the same principles, and by a parallel process. The capacity of perception, or of receiving sensation, is (or generates) the power; into what channel that power shall be directed, depends not on ourselves. Are we not the creatures of outward impressions? Without such impressions, should we be any thing? Are not passions and powers synonimous--or can the latter be produced without the lively interest that constitutes the former? Do you dream of annihilating the one--and will not the other be extinguished? With the apostle, Paul, permit me to say--"I am not mad, but speak the words of truth and soberness."
'To what purpose did you read my confessions, but to trace in them a character formed, like every other human character, by the result of unavoidable impressions, and the chain of necessary events. I feel, that my arguments are incontrovertible:--I suspect that, by affecting to deny their force, you will endeavour to deceive either me or yourself.--I have acquired the power of reasoning on this subject at a dear rate--at the expence of inconceivable suffering. Attempt not to deny me the miserable, expensive, victory. I am ready to say--(ungrateful that I am)--Why did you put me upon calling forth my strong reason?
'I perceive there is no cure for me--(apathy is, not the
restoration to health, but, the morbid lethargy of the soul) but by a new train of impressions, of whatever nature, equally forcible with the past.--You will tell me, It remains with myself whether I will predetermine to resist such impressions. Is this true? Is it philosophical? Ask yourself. What!--can _even you_ shrink from the consequences of your own principles?
'One word more--You accuse me of brooding in silence over my sensations--of considering them as a "sacred deposit." Concealment is particularly repugnant to my disposition--yet a thousand delicacies--a thousand nameless solicitudes, and apprehensions, sealed my lips!--He who inspired them was, alone, the depositary of my most secret thoughts!--my heart was unreservedly open before him--I covered my paper with its emotions, and transmitted it to him--like him who whispered his secret into the earth, to relieve the burden of uncommunicated thought. My secret was equally safe, and received in equal silence! Alas! he was not then ignorant of the effects it was likely to produce!
'EMMA.'
Mr Francis continued his humane and friendly attentions; and, while heopposed my sentiments, as conceiving them destructive of my tranquillity,mingled with his opposition a gentle and delicate consideration for myfeelings, that sensibly affected me, and excited my grateful attachment.He judged right, that, by stimulating my mind into action, the sensations,which so heavily oppressed it, might be, in some measure, mitigated--bydiverting the course of my ideas into different channels, and by thatmeans abating their force. His kindness soothed and flattered me, andcommunications relieved my thoughts.
CHAPTER XIII
The period which succeeded these events, though tedious in wearing away,marked by no vicissitude, has left little impression behind. The tenorof my days resembled the still surface of a stagnant lake, embosomedin a deep cavern, over which the refreshing breezes never sweep. Sad,vacant, inactive--the faculties both of mind and body seemed almostsuspended. I became weak, languid, enervated--my disorder was a lethargyof soul. This was gradually succeeded by disease of body:--an inactivity,so contrary to all the habits of my past life, generated morbid humours,and brought on a slow, remitting, fever. I recovered, by degrees,from this attack, but remained for some time in a debilitated, thoughconvalescent, state. A few weeks after my disorder returned, lastedlonger, and left me still more weakened and depressed. A third time itassailed me, at a shorter interval; and, though less violent, was moreprotracted, and more exhausting.
Mrs Denbeigh, alarmed by my situation, wrote to Mrs Harley, expressingthe apprehensions which she entertained. From this dear friend, who washerself in a declining state of health, I received a pressing invitationto visit, once more, the village of F----; and to seek, from change ofair, change of scene, and the cordial endearments of friendship, arestoration for my debilitated frame, and a balm for my wounded mind.
My relation, at this period, had letters from her husband, informingher, that the term of his residence in India was prolonged; pressing herto join him there, and to come over in the next ship. To this requestshe joyfully acceded; and, hearing that a packet was about to sail forBengal, secured her passage, and began immediately to make preparationsfor her departure. I no longer hesitated to comply with the entreatiesof my friend; besides the tie of strong affection, which drew me to her,I had, at present, little other resource.
After affectionately embracing Mrs Denbeigh, wishing a happy issue toher voyage, thanking her for all her kindness, and leaving a letter ofgrateful acknowledgement for Mr Francis, I quitted the metropolis, withan aching heart, and a wasted frame. My cousin accompanied me to theinn, from whence the vehicle set out that was to convey me to MrsHarley. We parted in silence--a crowd of retrospective ideas of thepast, and solicitudes respecting the future, occupied our thoughts--oursensations were too affecting for words.
The carriage quitted London at the close of the evening, and travelledall night:--it was towards the end of the year. At midnight we passedover Hounslow and Bagshot heaths. 'The moon,' to adopt the language ofOssian, 'looked through broken clouds, and brightened their dark-brownsides.' A loud November blast howled over the heath, and whistledthrough the fern.--There was a melancholy desolation in the scene, thatwas in unison with my feelings, and which overwhelmed my spirits with atide of tender recollections. I recalled to my imagination a thousandinteresting images--I indulged in all the wild enthusiasm of my character.My fellow-travellers slept tranquilly, while my soul was awake toagonizing sorrow. I adopted the language of the tender Eloisa--'Why,'said I, 'am I indebted for life to his care, whose cruelty has renderedit insupportable? Inhuman, as he is, let him fly from me for ever,and deny himself the savage pleasure of being an eye-witness to mysorrows!--But why do I rave thus?--He is not to be blamed--_I, alone,am guilty_--I, alone, am the author of my own misfortunes, and should,therefore, be the only object of anger and resentment.'[19]
[Footnote 19: Rousseau.]
Weakened by my late indisposition, fatigued by the rough motion of thecarriage, and exhausted by strong emotion, when arrived at the end of myjourney, I was obliged to be lifted from the coach, and carried into thecottage of my friend. The servant led the way to the library--the dooropened--Mrs Harley advanced, to receive me, with tottering steps. Theravages of grief, and the traces of sickness, were visible in her dear,affectionate, countenance. I clasped my hands, and, lifting up myeyes, beheld the portrait of Augustus--beheld again the resemblanceof those features so deeply engraven on my heart! My imagination wasraised--methought the lively colours of the complexion had faded, thebenignant smile had vanished, and an expression of perplexity andsternness usurped its place. I uttered a faint shriek, and fell lifelessinto the arms of my friend. It was some time before I returned to senseand recollection, when I found myself on the bed, in the little chamberwhich had formerly been appropriated to my use. My friend sat beside me,holding my hand in her's, which she bathed with her tears. 'Thank God!'she exclaimed, in a rapturous accent, (as, with a deep sigh, I raised mylanguid eyes, and turned them mournfully towards her)--'she lives!--MyEmma!--child of my affections!'--sobs suppressed her utterance. I drewthe hand, which held mine, towards me--I pressed it to my bosom--'_Mymother!_'--I would have said; but the tender appellation died away uponmy lips, in inarticulate murmurs.
These severe struggles were followed by a return of my disorder. MrsHarley would scarcely be persuaded to quit my chamber for a moment--hertenderness seemed to afford her new strength;--but these exertionsaccelerated the progress of an internal malady, which had for some timepast been gaining ground, and gradually undermining her health.
Youth, and a good constitution, aided by the kind solicitudes offriendship, restored me, in a few weeks, to a state of convalescence.I observed the declining strength of my friend with terror--I accusedmyself of having, though involuntarily, added to these alarming symptoms,by the new fatigues and anxieties which I had occasioned her. Affectioninspired me with those energies, that reason had vainly dictated. Istruggled to subdue myself--I stifled the impetuous suggestions of myfeelings, in exerting myself to fulfil the duties of humanity. My mindassumed a firmer tone--I became, once more, the cheerful companion, thetender consoler, the attentive nurse, of this excellent woman, to whosekindness I was so much indebted--and, if I stole a few moments in theday, while my friend reposed, to gaze on the resemblance of Augustus,to weep over the testimonies of his former respect and friendship,I quickly chased from my bosom, and my countenance, every trace ofsadness, when summoned to attend my friend.
CHAPTER XIV
The winter came on severe and cold. Mrs Harley was forbidden to exposeherself to the frosty air, which seemed to invigorate my languid frame.I was constituted her almoner, to distribute to the neighbouring poorthe scanty portion, which she was enabled, by a rigid oeconomy, to sparefrom her little income: yet the value of this distribution had beenmore than redoubled, by the gentler charities of kind accents
, tendersympathy, and wholesome counsels. To these indigent, but industrious,cottagers, I studied to be the worthy representative of their amiablebenefactress, and found my reward in their grateful attachment, and theapproving smiles of my friend.
By degrees, she ventured to converse with me on the subject nearest herheart--the situation of her son. He had been obliged to yield to theproofs produced of his marriage, which he had, at first, seemed desirousof evading. He had written, with reserve, upon the subject to hismother; but, from the enquiries of a common friend, she had reason toapprehend, that his engagement had been of an imprudent nature. Twochildren, were, already the fruits of it: the mother, with a femininehelplessness of character, had a feeble constitution. The small fortune,which Augustus had originally shared with his family, was greatlyreduced. His education and habits had unfitted him for those exertionswhich the support of an encreasing family necessarily required:--hisspirits (her friend had informed her) seemed broken, and his tempersoured. Some efforts had been made to serve him, which his lofty spirithad repelled with disdain.