Being arrived at Besanon, I take the first opportunity to write you the particulars of our journey; which, if not passed very agreeably, has at least been attended with no ill accident. Your friend is as well in health as can be expected for a man so sick at heart. He even endeavours to affect outwardly a kind of tranquillity, to which his heart is a stranger; and, being ashamed of his weakness, lays himself under a good deal of restraint before me. This only served, however, to betray the secret agitations of his mind; and though I seemed to be deceived by his behaviour, it was only to leave him to his own thoughts, with the view of opposing one part of his faculties to repress the effects of the other.
He was much dejected during the first day's journey, which I made a short one, as I saw the expedition of our travelling increased his uneasiness. A profound silence was observed on both sides; on my part, the rather, as I am sensible that ill-timed condolence only imbitters violent affliction. Coldness and indifference easily find words, but silent sorrow is in those cases the language of true friendship. I began yesterday to perceive the first sparks of the fury which naturally succeeded. At dinner time we had been scarce a quarter of an hour out of the chaise, before he turned to me, with an air of impatience, and asked me with an ill-natured smile, why we rested a moment so near Eloisa? In the evening he affected to be very talkative, but without saying a word of her, asking the same questions over and over again. He wanted one moment to know if we had reached the French territories, and the next if we should soon arrive at Vevey. The first thing he did at every stage was to sit down to write a letter, which he rumpled up, or tore to pieces, the moment afterwards. I picked up two or three of these blotted fragments, by which you may judge of the situation of his mind. I believe, however, he has by this time written a compleat letter.——The extravagance which these first symptoms of passion threaten is easily foreseen; but I cannot pretend to guess what will be its effect, or how long may be its continuance; these depend on a combination of circumstances, as the character of the man, the degree and nature of his passion, and of a thousand things which no human sagacity can determine. For my part, I can answer for the transports of his rage, but not for the sullenness of his despair; for, do as we will, every man has always his life in his own power. I flatter myself, however, that he will pay a due regard to his life and my assiduities; though I depend less on the effects of my zeal, which nevertheless shall be exerted to the utmost, than on the nature of his passion, and the character of his mistress. The mind cannot long employ itself in contemplating a beloved object, without contracting a disposition similar to what it admires. The extreme sweetness of Eloisa's temper must therefore have softened the harshness of that passion it inspired; and I doubt not but love, in a man of such lively passions, is always more alive and violent than it would be in others. I have some dependence also upon his heart: it was formed to struggle, and to conquer. A love like his is not so much a weakness, as strength badly exerted. A violent and unhappy passion may smother for a time, perhaps for ever, some of his faculties; but it is itself a proof of their excellence, and of the use that may be made of them to cultivate his understanding. The sublimest wisdom is attained by the same vigour of mind which gives rise to the violent passions; and philosophy must be attained by as fervent a zeal as that which we feel for a mistress.
Be assured, lovely Clara, I interest myself no less than you in the fate of this unfortunate couple; not out of a sentiment of compassion, which might perhaps be only a weakness, but out of a due regard to justice and the fitness of things, which require that every one should be disposed of in a manner the most advantageous to himself and to society. Their amiable minds were doubtless formed by the hands of nature for each other. In a peaceful and happy union, at liberty to exert their talents and display their virtues, they might have enlightened the world with the splendor of their examples. Why should an absurd prejudice then cross the eternal directions of nature, and subvert the harmony of thinking Beings? Why should the vanity of a cruel father thushide their light under a bushel, and wound those tender and benevolent hearts which were formed to sooth the pangs of others? Are not the ties of marriage the most free, as well as the most sacred of all engagements? Yes, every law to lay a constraint on them is unjust. Every father, who presumes to form, or break them, is a tyrant. This chaste and holy tie of nature is neither subjected to sovereign power nor paternal authority but to the authority only of that common parent who hath the power over our hearts, and, by commanding their union, can at the same time make them love each other.
To what end are natural conveniences sacrificed to those of opinion? A disagreement in rank and fortune loses itself in marriage, nor doth any equality therein tend to make the marriage state happy; but a disagreement in person and disposition ever remains, and is that which makes it necessarily miserable.[13]A child, that has no rule of conduct but her fond passion, will frequently make a bad choice; but the father, who has no other rule for his than the opinion of the world, will make a worse. A daughter may want knowledge and experience to form a proper judgment of the discretion and conduct of men; a good father ought doubtless in that care to advise her. He has a right, it is even his duty, to say "My child, this is a man of probity, or that man is a knave, this is a man of sense, or that is a fool." Thus far ought the father to judge, the rest belongs of right to the daughter. The tyrants, who exclaim that such maxims tend to disturb the good order of society, are those who, themselves, disturb it most.
Let men rank according to their merit; and let those hearts be united that are objects of each other's choice. This is what the good order of society requires; those who would confine it to birth or riches are the real disturbers of that order; and ought to be rendered odious to the public, or punished, as enemies to society.
Justice requires that such abuses should be redressed: it is the duty of every man to set himself in opposition to violence, and to strengthen the bonds of society. You may be assured therefore, that, if it be possible for me to effect the union of these two lovers, in spite of an obstinate father, I shall put in execution the intention of heaven, without troubling myself about the approbation of men.
You, amiable Madam, are happy in having a father, who doth not presume to judge better than yourself of the means of your own happiness. It is not, however, from his greater sagacity, perhaps, nor from his superior tenderness, that he leaves you thus mistress of your own choice: but what signifies the cause if the effect be the same? Or whether, in the liberty he allows you his indolence supplies the place of his reason? Far from abusing that liberty, the choice you have made, at twenty years of age, must meet with the approbation of the most discreet parent. Your heart, taken up by a friendship without example, had little room for love. You have yet substituted in its place every thing that can supply the want of passion; and, though less a lover than a friend, if you should not happen to prove the fondest wife, you will be certainly the most virtuous; that union, which prudence dictated, will increase with age and end but with life. The impulse of the heart is more blind, but it is more irresistible; and the way to ruin is to lay one's self under the cruel necessity of opposing it. Happy are those whom love unites as prudence dictates, who have no obstacles to surmount, nor difficulties to encounter! Such would be our friends, were it not for the unreasonable prejudice of an obstinate father. And such, notwithstanding, may they be yet, if one of them be well advised. By yours and Eloisa's example, we may be equally convinced that it belongs only to the parties themselves to judge how far they will be reciprocally agreeable. If love be not predominant, prudence only directs the choice, as in your case; if passion prevail, nature has already determined it, as in Eloisa's. So sacred also is the law of nature, that no human being is permitted to transgress it, or can transgress it with impunity; nor can any consideration of rank or fortune abrogate it, without involving mankind in guilt and misfortune.
Though the winter be pretty far advanced and I am obliged to go to Rome, I shall not leave our friend till I have brought him to such a consistency of temper that I may safely trust him with himself. I shall be tender of him, as well on his own account, as because you have entrusted him to my care. If I cannot make him happy, I will endeavour at least to make him prudent; and to prevail on him to bear the evils of humanity like a man. I purpose to spend a fortnight with him here; in which time I hope to hear from you and Eloisa; and that you will both assist me in binding up the wounds of a broken heart, as yet unaffected by the voice of reason, unless it speak in the language of the passions.
Inclosed is a letter for your friend. I beg you will not trust it to a messenger, but give it her with your own hands.
Fragments, Annexed to the Preceding Letter.
Why was I not permitted to see you before my departure? You were afraid our parting would be fatal! Tender Eloisa! Be comforted——I am well——I am at ease——I live——I think of you——I think of the time when I was dear to you——My heart is a little oppressed——The chaise has made me giddy——My spirits are quite sunk——I cannot write much to-day; tomorrow, perhaps, I shall be able to——or I shall have no more occasion——
Whither do these horses hurry me so fast? Where is this man, who calls himself my friend, going to carry me? Is it from Eloisa? Is it by her order that I am dispatched so precipitately away? Mistaken Eloisa!——How rapidly does the chaise move! Whence come I? Where am I going? Why all this expedition? Are ye afraid, ye persecutors, that I should not fly fast enough to ruin? O friendship! O love! is this your contrivance? Are these your favours?——
Have you consulted your heart in driving me from you so suddenly? Are you capable, tell me Eloisa, are you capable of renouncing me for ever? No, that tender heart still loves me, I know it does——In spite of fortune, in spite of itself, it will love me for ever.——I see it, you have permitted yourself to be persuaded[14]——What lasting repentance are you preparing for yourself!——Alas! it will be too late——how! forget me! I did not know your heart!——Oh consider yourself, consider me, consider——hear me: it is yet time enough——'twas cruel to banish me: I fly from you swifter than the wind.——Say but the word, but one word, and I return quicker than lightening. Say but one word, and we will be united for ever. We ought to be——We will be——Alas! I complain to the winds——I am going again——I am going to live and die far from Eloisa——Live I did I say? It is impossible.——
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