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UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 (1)
UVA-LIB-Text (1)
University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875[X]
University of Virginia Library, Text collection (1)
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expand1997 (1)
1Author:  Rowson Mrs. 1762-1824Add
 Title:  Reuben and Rachel  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: It was about the middle of the fifteenth century that the lovely and amiable Isabelle found herself a widow, reduced from ease and affluence to a very confined income. Though her circumstances were altered; her mind elevated, her spirit noble and independent, was still the same. Isabelle was a native of Spain, of noble parentage, expanded heart, superior sense, and highly finished education. The beauty and elegance of her person, though striking, were but secondary objects of the esteem and admiration she was sure to excite wherever she was seen or known. I AM parted from you, my adored Beatina; but painful as the parting is, I feel it is for our suture advantage. I am convinced, my beloved wife, that there are worlds beyond the narrow bounds which our natural philosophers at present prescribe. I have studied much, my lovely friend, and am almost certain, that were I supplied with vessels, men, provisions, and every thing necessary, I should make discoveries that would occasion my name to be revered in after ages; and those who blamed my lovely Beatina for giving herself to her Columbus, shall say, “You did right, Beatina; Columbus has an enterprising spirit that will carve out a fortune, even from a barren waste. For is not the ocean a barren waste? and yet even from that do I mean to carve out for my soul's idol an empire, where she shall reign queen over all, as she does over my heart. I HAVE been disappointed, my sweet friend, but be not you disheartened. Thanks be to Heaven, I left you and my darling boy in a safe retreat, where, though not enjoying all the advantages your rank in life might demand, you have at least all the comforts necessary to the real pleasures of life. CONGRATULATE me, my lovely friend; I am at length successful! How have I counted the tedious months that kept me from my soul's idol; and how often have I feared that my perseverance would be of no avail, and that I had sacrificed ages of real happiness (for hours are ages to the heart that loves as mine does) to the visionary hopes of future greatness. But I am successful. I shall explore those distant seas, with which my studies have so well acquainted me, and in some unknown world seek out a kingdom of which my Beatina shall be queen. Yes, you shall be queen; for whatsoever world I find, be it the fairest, greatest, or the best the sun ever shone on, no man should ever claim a right to govern it. For it is to a woman I owe the means of making the great attempt. I am so overjoyed I cannot proceed methodically; yet I know you languish to learn every particular that concerns your Columbus. THOU besom friend of the bravest man that ever lived, thy queen now claims thee as her friend and sister. Isabelle is in affliction, and calls on Beatina to comfort her. Yet how can I ask comfort from you, when I have none to offer in return? I cannot see you, lest you curse the hand that supplied the means for this ill-starred voyage. Our Columbus, the man whose name shall be revered while time endures, is no more! He sleeps in the vast ocean; but his memory shall live forever. THE most humble and grateful of your fervants addresses you at a moment, when he much fears he shall never again behold you. I am, with my little convoy, in a boisterous and almost unknown sea, at a season of the year when storms prevail, and the inclemency of the weather renders our safety extremely precarious. The clouds hang low; the atmosphere is thick; the hollow murmuring sea, and bleak wind that whistles through the rigging, portends an approaching storm. THY father is returned, my dear son, returned to his native land. But how? Not as an enterprising spirit whose plans had proved successful, should return; but as a traitor to his king, loaded with ignominious chains. Oh! my brave boy, I see thy noble spirit fire at the intelligence. But beware; conceal the workings of thy honest soul. To prosper in this ungrateful world, you must wear the mask of hypocrisy; wear the semblance of humility, honesty, patriotism, till you have obtained some favourite point, then throw them aside as useless, and glory in the success of your stratagems. HAD I a conveyance, swift as my own impatience, to forward to my revered mother the joyful tidings of my father's triumph over his enemies, the wings of the wind would be too tardy to bear this to your hands. Yes, my dear mother, Columbus, the great, the enterprizing Columbus, is restored to all his former dignity, and even fresh honours are heaped upon him. But I know you wish me to be particular; and how can I be more pleasingly employed than in recounting the noble conduct of a father, and obeying the commands of the best of mothers? AS the perusal of the inclosed letters and papers will no doubt awaken in the bosom of my dear Isabelle, a curiosity to learn the events that followed this triumph of Columbus over his enemies; and as I think it necessary to inform her, not only of her descent from the native kings of Peru, but also of the sate of her parents, who now, alas! are no more, I have taken up my pen to trace every circumstance that may tend to prove your right to the sovereignty of Quito, and the surrounding territories, if hereafter you should think it worth contending for. But as I leave you, my dear child, in the protection of my own family; and am fully sensible that my nephew, the marquis Guidova, will take such care of your fortune, (now ample) that by the time you are of age to peruse these papers, you will be one of the richest heiresses in Spain; I fondly hope you will not suffer the vain ambition of bearing the empty title of queen to influence your conduct, or tempt you to throw away the real blessings of life in pursuit of shadows and toys. a “IT is with satisfaction of the purest kind, that I take up my pen to inform my dear aunt Rachel and my beloved children, that the business which brought me to this place is at length finished, and the completion of it is equal to my most sanguine expectations. WHEN the altar is decorated, the priests at hand, and the knife is raised, that will terminate existence, who can blame the poor victim devoted to sacrifice, if it break the chain by which it is held, asserts the privilege of nature, and, bounding over the plain, secures at once both life and liberty? Brother, beloved brother, they have prepared the altar, but the destined victim will escape their snares. WILL my dear friend pardon me that I intrude myself upon her, and by explaining my sorrows, make her a party in my concerns? I have suffered much persecution, dear Rachel, since we parted; and to avoid rushing at once into guilt and misery, I have taken a step for which the world will censure me. But what is the world to me? Had I voluntarily assumed the splendid shackles prepared for me, had I become a titled wretch, and promised faith and truth to one man, whilst every wish, every tender thought of my heart was devoted to another, would the approving smiles of that misjudging world, the adulation it is ever ready to pay to splendor and nobility, have compensated for the sacrifice I should have made of internal peace, of conscious integrity? No.—Admired, courted, envied, I should still have been miserable. The baseness of my conduct would be my daily reproach; I should have sought to banish reflection by dissipation, and who can tell where the career of guilt and folly might have stopped? THERE is such an appearance of candour and sincerity throughout your whole letter, that I cannot but believe you innocent; prove yourself so, and on the receipt of this come immediately to London, and prepare to follow my fortunes to foreign climes. Our marriage is no longer a secret; my aunt has discarded me. I have sold my commission, and in the despair I felt at your perfidy, have taken passage on board a vessel bound for Philadelphia. If you love me as you say, and as I would fain think you do, you will not hesitate to leave England forever, since it is for my peace of mind that I should do so. I cannot submit to live in it below the rank I have been accustomed to fill. If your affection leads you to be the companion of my voyage, the sharer and soother of all my cares, I shall regret neither fortune nor country. If not, if some stronger attachment binds you to this spot, Oh Rachel! I cannot bear the thought; but should it be so, why the farther we are divided the better.
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