| | 1 | Author: | Flint
Timothy
1780-1840 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Francis Berrian, or, The Mexican patriot  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | The first night after the junction, I passed in the tent
of my classmate, of whom I have spoken. He gave me
a succinct, but most interesting narrative of his fortunes
since we had separated from each other in the halls of
our alma mater. As the materials, the character, and the
fate of that interesting body of young men, who were now
united with the Mexican patriots, and many of whom at
this moment fill the first offices in Louisiana, have never
yet been given to the public, and as they are henceforward
identified in the same cause with myself, I shall take
leave to digress from the thread of my narrative, to give
you a very brief outline of the rise and progress of this
expedition on Texas, as my classmate gave it to me. “I have wept over the ruin of the amiable family,
with whom you fled to the mountains, victims of a
sympathy, for which the subjects of it do not thank you.
I have a kind of right in what remains of the family, for
Wilhelmine has been my companion, and my fixed friend, and
she was very amiable and good. Now, that her father and
sisters are dead, I feel it to be a duty due to her, to claim,
that you now either marry her, or send the poor forlorn
girl to me. However you may have thought before, you
must surely feel now, that she can no longer reside with
you, as formerly. I will receive, cherish, and comfort her,
will ask no questions, and will answer for her safety. You
cannot mistake your duty, nor my right to this kind of
interference. Present her my love and condolence, and
show her this.” “I informed you in my last, of my arrival here from
Durango. My father was in a continual fret of impatience,
lest we should not arrive in season, to anticipate
the decree of confiscation. That terrible word confiscation!
There is nothing on earth I hate like Don Pedro,
and the worst name I can call him, is Confiscation. I am
wholly unable to conceive how, or why old men should
become so intensely fond of money, about the time that
they cease to be able to make any use of it. I believe,
he loves me, as the next best thing to money, and the
power he has lost, As to my dear, good mother, he may
have loved her once; but that is a thing quite gone by.
Do you begin to love your husband less, than you did at
first, Jacinta? More than once, on the way, he looked
sufficiently sternly upon me, reminding me frequently,
that if I had not been a perverse and disobedient child, I
should have been, at this time, lady of the minister of war,
and he, perhaps, prime minister! All would have been
safe, and I in a fair way to ascend the topmost round in the
ladder of eminence. I have found the advantage of
keeping up the fair ascendency that I have won, when
this hated subject is discussed. So I told him, that he
must have singular notions of the power of the said minister,
to communicate honor, for that he well knew, that he
was a coward, a liar, and an assassin; and I know not, if
I added other epithets; but I had plenty more in my
thoughts, and told him, that if it would comfort him to
have me die, I was ready to gratify him, but not in that
way. Upon the word, I had to encounter a long and bitter
philippic, by way of comfortable even ng domestic confabulation.
He rung upon the old changes, the folly and
idle romanticity of foolish girls, and the absolute necessity
of wealth, to any thing like comfortable, or respectable
existence, and that one week's endurance of real poverty,
genuine love, and a cottage, would restore my brain to
VOL. II. 16
common sense, and bring me to beg, as a boon, the favor,
which I was now, in the wildness of folly, casting
from me. Then it was easy to digress to that dear
young man, and to say, that since that ruinous acquaintance,
all other men were liars, assassins, and all that
My mother, good woman, as the conversation grew
sometimes a little warm, put in a kind of neutral interpolation,
partaking equally of assent and dissent, attempting
to smooth down my father's brow, and remind me of
the rights of paternity. Between apprehensions from
Indians, patriots, robbers and Royalists, for we seem to
be equally obnoxious to all, and this last and most
horrid evil of all, confiscation, I had but an uncomfortable
time to the city. I had travelled the same journey
before, and had seen and felt the grand and beautiful
scenery. At this time, my heart was too heavy, and too
painfully occupied for me to have any eyes for nature. Our Lady of the Pillar preserve us! I have seen him
again, and my heart beats even now so loud, that it disturbs
my thoughts, and my pen. I never needed a second
look to assure me that it was the very man. I had
been driven to the alameda, with our old duena, who
was ill, and in company with my daily tormentor. The
carriage windows were drawn up on account of the air.
He was walking in the streets, and an Irishman, formerly
a servant of my father's, was walking behind him.
How well I remember the calm and lofty port, the
countenance so animated, benevolent, and mild! I gave
a half shriek, before I recollected myself; and then it
was too late, for my countenance told the tale of what I
had seen. His prying and malignant eye soon discovered
in the group the person that had arrested mine.
He expressed ironical regret at the cause of my alarm,
and muttered something implying that he would
not have such terrible objects in the way, to annoy me.
I gave him a look that I trust he understood, and told
him that to filial regard to my father, he must be sensible
he owed all my endurance of his presence. “I know,” I
cried, “that you are equally cowardly and vindictive.
But, venture to touch a hair of his head, and I will move
heaven and earth, until an avenger of his cause shall be
found. Not that I have or expect ever to have any personal
interest in his preservation beyond the common interest,
which all ought to have in preserving the virtuous
and the good. In this country of distraction and crime,
we ought to preserve at least one good person. If you
really wish endurance from me, much more, if you
expect kindness, expect it only from using moderation
and forbearance towards him. Make no use of your bad
power towards him, and in the same proportion, you
will be sure of my taking a less active part in his favour.
If you would promise me with a pledge, on which I
might rely, that you would avail yourself of your influence
to protect him, I should be willing to promise in my
turn, never to see him again.” The standard of the Patriots is again unfurled, I am
told, and directly in view of your castle, in the city of
Vera Cruz. With how little ceremony they treat emperors,
and kings, and great men in these evil days, upon
which we are fallen. I suppose the royal cavalier, so
dear to you, sees with an equal eye the fighting of Patriots
and Imperialists. Both are alike hostile to him
and when these parties have mutually worried and
weakened each other, he, the third person, can with so
much the more ease fall upon the victor and destroy him.
To him all this fighting may be matter of indifferent regard.
Not so to me. A man dearer to me than liberty,
or country, or home, or all the world, except my
dearer parents, and, the Virgin forgive me! except my
mother, dearer than even they, is going to join himself
VOL. II. 17
to the Patriot standard. I sometimes flatter myself
that I am a Patriot by instinct. Since I have been acquainted
with this man I have learned to read English;
I have been deeply engaged in the American history.
What a great country! What a noble people! Compare
their faces and persons with those of the people
here, and what a difference! There is something independent
and severe in the appearance and person of
these people. There is not a book in my father's library
that treats of them, or their history, but what I have
thoroughly conned. But to my story; I am extremely
cautious how I indulge in the society of this man. If he
learned the half of my impatience to enjoy his society,
I fear he would hold me cheap. For they say, at least
my mother says, that men will not love too much love,
or value any thing that comes cheap. In fact I dare
not treat myself too much, or too often with that high
and intoxicating enjoyment, and I economize every
moment of it, and feel as though I had acquired
a title to enjoy it by forbearance before the
treat. I affect a distance and reserve in his presence,
that appears to give him pain, as I know it does me. It
is true, he has not complained in words. But there is
often a modest remonstrance in his manner which taxes
me with cruelty, more painfully than any words he
could utter. We had a long walk together yesterday.
To give us countenance, and to screen our purpose, Laura
started with us, and as soon as we were beyond view,
she kindly left us to ourselves. How deeply this child
has read the chapter of the heart! And what was the
fruit of this solitary ramble? the very anticipation of
which was sufficient to rouse my pulses to fever quickness!
Why, we walked side by side most lovingly indeed,
but as silent as stock doves. He sighed, poor
fellow, and I sighed. He said Yea—and I said Amen.
He looked at San Puebla, which is now casting up ruddy
flames amidst its pillars of smoke, and his eye kindled
for a moment, but he soon returned to his sighs
again. Once he met me, as I well remember, with a kind
of saucy recklessness. But now, when he steals a
glance at me, his eye quails, and when to assist me in
passing, he takes my hand, his absolutely trembles.
My heart thanks him, for I feel that these are the tremors
of a subdued heart. He came out at last with the
principal secret, and told me that he was about leaving
this city for Vera Cruz. It was now my turn to show
emotion; and it was at first too great for words. As soon
as I became collected from the first surprise, I told him
that those who wished him best, wished him nothing
better than to stay where he was, and that it was a conduct
that militated against his professions to me, to leave
a place where he could visit me at his choice. He then
informed me, that the Patriot flag was unfurled at Vera
Cruz; that his principles, his predilections, and he added,
as his cheek reddened, his detestation of Iturbide
and his minions forbade him to remain in an inglorious
pursuit here, although he could at any moment look at
the town of the Mansion of Martha, where honorable
men his compatriots were rushing to the tented field.
He added, that his determination had been approved
by the Conde de Serrea; that he expected appointment
and rank in the Patriot army; that there was but one
vista through the darkness of his prospects to the only
hope of his heart, and that he saw no way for him, but
to cut his path through it with his good sword. I know
not if I give them rightly, but at the time I thought them
pretty words, and I understood the meaning to be that,
he had no hope of gaining me, but by gaining distinction
and power at the same time. I saw that his heart sunk
at the prospect of leaving me; and as he looked dejected
and on the minor key, I believe that I threw as much
encouragement as I well could into my manner. I am
afraid that he thought me too fond, for I think that I
pressed his hand and gave him well and fully to know
that, in me he had a tried and sure friend in the garrison.
Indeed more soft things were said than there is
any use in writing. I conjured him to take care of himself
and not be rash. I cautioned him against the assassin-dagger
of Don Pedro, who is to command the imperial
forces against the Patriots; and then I placed before
him the dangers of that sultry and sickly climate.
I conjured up so many horrors in prospect that my eyes
actually filled with tears, and I was obliged to turn
away to prevent his seeing them. He had harped on the
right string, and I became talkative. I said a thousand
things, and some of them I suppose more tender than
I should have said. I am sure that he discovered that
I was a traitor, for I expressed a decided wish that the
Patriots might prevail, and that he might acquire consideration
and glory; and if they established a new government,
above all things, that he might acquire influence
enough to save my father's estate from confiscation.
He clearly understood me to mean that, whenever this
should be the case, he would be the favored man of
my father, as he was now of me. And here, the man
habitually so guarded in the expression of his feelings,
fell into a most amiable fit of raptures, and made a great
many protestations of love and respect and all that, and
he talked so fast, and so fervently, and withal managed
the thing so well, that I was obliged to let him run on.
At seven in the evening I was obliged to tear myself
away from him and see my persecutor. I told him so;
and told him moreover that when he saw with how
much patience I bore this torture, I wished him to
copy it. I envy you, for you are daily near him, who occupies
all my thoughts. And yet such are the horrible barriers
of party and opinion, your noble minds must be at
variance, and you cannot meet him, for he is a Patriot
and you are a Royalist. So once was I, and I think fiercer
than you. See this man, and but for your husband you
would be a Patriot too. But you are married, and for
your loyalty to your husband and your king you had
best not see him. We have had a large pacquet from
the Patriots, that is, the Conde has had one, and they
have had a battle, the Patriots and Imperialists, and the
latter had the advantage. Heaven be praised, my beloved
is safe, and Sant' Anna writes that, he behaved
gloriously. He was every where in the thickest of he
fight, hunting, I dare say, for his Excellency, my admirer.
They have appointed him a Colonel, and he has gained
influence and respect far beyond his nominal command.
Every despatch is full of his conduct and his praises.
I rejoice in his glory with trembling. Angels and the
blessed Virgin preserve him, and bring him back in safety
with his glory! To be admired and promoted in a
cause which the Conde espouses, must be real glory.
Then I read his own letter to the Conde written in Spanish.
The purity of the language and style, would have
done credit to the Royal Academy. Of himself he writes
with the perfect modesty and simplicity of a great man.
There was a chasm in the letter, and there, thought I,
had he dared, would have been love for me. I kissed
the white interval at the thought. He says, that Sant'
Anna is full of courage, that the Patriots are no ways
disheartened, and that the people are every day flocking
to their standard. Indeed the emperor himself looks
in doubt, and his eternal simper was this evening exchanged
for a look of anxiety, and he appeared the better
for it. He had a great deal to say about his Excellency,
and his being the firmest prop of his throne, and how
impatient I must be to hear from the army, and how
anxious for his return! This man of the muddy head
has not yet been admitted to the secret of my likes and
dislikes; and he is too destitute of penetration to see
what is most palpably passing immediately under his
eye. And then, having praised his Excellency, thick
and three fold, he began to anoint me in the same way.
There are certain little liberties which he thinks it a
great honor to bestow upon his favorites. He seemed
disposed to take them with me. I repelled them, and
in a manner, which could not be mistaken. I will aver,
that the man is not wholly destitute of good feeling; for
he blushed even to his red whiskers. You have made my heart glad with your letter. You
say, that you espouse no cause, that blinds your understanding,
or takes away the power of discriminating
truth from error, pretension from reality. That is like
you. You have taken interest enough in him from his
being dear to me, to inquire him out. You delight me
by saying, that his deportment has won all praise, triumphed
over envy, and even gained the applauses of
your husband. Every generous heart ought to feel the
difference between an unprincipled adventurer, and the
partizan, whose private life and deportment show, that
his heart and his principles are in the cause he espouses;
and who in private pities, relieves, and spares those
men for whose cause he professes to have taken up
arms. It is only necessary to look at him, to see that
the motives that have carried him to the field are neither
interest nor to take side with the strongest. There
is something that speaks out when the heart is in earnest.
I have never seen a man whose manner so strongly
evinces that every thing he does, is matter of conscience
and principle. I have this day received a package of your letters at
once. I do not wonder at your astonishment that you
have had no news of me for a long time. It is a miracle
that you should ever hear of me again as an inhabitant
of this earth. Oh! what have I not suffered? I have
lived fifty years in a month, and I have performed, Oh!
such a penance for my sins. Surely, I must have sinned
deeply. But I hope my trials have not been without
their use. I am sure that I am more sober; that I have
acquired some practical philosophy, and that my pulses
will never beat so tumultuously again. But you shall
have the sad story of my sufferings. The evening after
my mother had at last come out with that decided preference
for Mr. Berrian, that I mentioned to you; too
happy to sit still, and in a frame of mind to muse in the
moon-light and inhale the delicious evening breeze, and
think upon that man, I bade the dueña walk with me
and I took the direction of the lake, for we live near that
extremity of the city. It was very imprudent I grant
you, in these times of distraction and misrule. But I
felt so happy and in such a delightful frame of mind to
enjoy the evening! and I felt too as if I was strong in the
strength of his protecting arm. We had cleared the
city and were approaching the lake before we remarked
that a carriage with servants wearing the Imperial livery
followed us. An apprehensive suspicion flashed across
my mind, but was instantly driven out by a pleasanter
train of thought. We continued to walk on for nearly
half a league, and the dueña remarked to me that the
carriage followed at the same pace and kept the same
distance. Ashivering terror of some unknown danger pervaded
my mind, as I perceived that she remarked rightly.
We immediately turned on our steps for the city. The
carriage stopped in a notch of the causeway. Petrified
with terror, I stopped too; but not long, for a man muffled
in a cloak and followed by two servants made towards
me. I shrieked and ran as fast as the unwiedly
dueña could follow me. I was overtaken in a moment.
The stranger grasped me in his arms, and the servants
at the same moment caught the screaming and struggling
dueña Indignation and the spirit of my father returned
upon me. I sternly asked him what he wanted, for
that if it was my money and jewels they were at his
service. He replied that he was aware that I had not
so mistaken his object; that I could not but have conjectured
by whom, and for what purpose he was employed.
Lest I should still doubt, he told me that he was
ordered to convey me safely and respectfully, if I would
allow him, to Xalapa, there to meet my affianced husband;
that he was instructed to explain so much of his
object in order to allay any unfounded apprehensions,
and to set my mind at ease as to my destination. That
for the rest, he hoped I would enter the carriage that
waited for me, cheerfully, when I knew his purpose;
for in that case he was charged to use his best and most
respectful exertions to render the journey pleasant.
But that his commands were positive, and his business
urgent, admitting neither hesitation nor delay; and that
his instructions were to bring me to his Excellency at
Xalapa, respectfully, if I would, or forcibly if he must;
and he begged me to fix upon the alternative. I am too happy to write to any being but you, and I
begin to credit the old saw, which asserts that happiness
makes us selfish. I left myself at the close of my last,
along with my general, at Xalapa. Instead of two
hours which he promised me, he staid until late at night.
Before he left me, he arranged the terms by a message,
on which I might stay at the Carmelite convent in that
city, as long as he occupied it with his troops. Protestant
and heretic as they held him, he has present power,
and, I fear me, that is the divinity most devoutly worshipped
here, as elsewhere. He promises the sisterhood
protection. He stations a guard without the walls, and
is to be admitted within them at any hour that he
chooses. They are to afford the shelter of their sanctuary
to me, until he carries me back in triumph to Mexico.
The convent is a sweet place, the exact retirement
for a mind and a heart like mine. It is in valley,
like a sweet isle sheltered in a sea of mountains. Here
are fine oaks, the sure indications of health. It has
orange groves, and the delicious fruits and flowers of
every clime. Amidst its bowers run a number of beautiful
and limpid brooks, chafing over pebbles. Hither I
was removed, escorted by the youthful general and a
select body of troops. At midnight he retired and left
me to the notes of the pealing organ, the midnight
prayers of the sisters, and to communion with my own
thoughts. He returned next day in safety to Xalapa. Don
Pedro was too far in advance of him, to be overtaken.
He immediately selected a garrison and appointed a
commander for this city. He has had news from Sant'
Anna, who has captured Queretaro. Having settled his
arrangements for leaving this city, he spent the greater
part of the day alone with me, in the charming gardens
and groves of the convent, and such a day! A
year of such days would be too much for a state of trial.
The next morning he started with his whole force,
except the garrison, for Mexico. It was a cheering, and
heart-stirring sight, the ceremonial of our leaving,
and I think, intended as a kind of fête for me. The troops
appeared to be in their gayest attire and in high spirits
They filed off in front of the convent gate. The piazza
of the convent was filled with all the gaiety and beauty
of the city. My general rode a spirited white charger,
and many an encomium did the ladies pass upon him
little knowing how my heart concurred in all their
praises. They all admitted he was the finest looking
man they had ever seen. This with ladies is no small
praise. As he came up in front and doffed his military
cap and waved his plumes, there was a corresponding
waving of handkerchiefs, and fair hands, and a general
shout of Viva la Republica, and Viva el Capitan Liberador.
He dismounted and came up to the gate, which
was thrown open for the occasion, kissed the hand of
the prioress and other religious sisters, and asked their
prayers for the success of his cause. The prioress presented
him with a consecrated handkerchief. which
received with a respectful address, and what surpris
them most, was not his uncommon beauty of form and
person, nor his gallant and dignified bearing as an officer,
but that he bowed like a king, spoke the true Castilian,
and kissed the hand of the prioress, like a devout
catholic. I confess, that a little pride mixed with the
love in my heart, when he came to me in the presence
of such a concourse, and begged the honor of escorting
me to Mexico, and to my mother. Some in my case, and feeling as I do, would odiously
affect indifference and tranquillity and all that. But I
confess I am impatient with the tedious progress of these
miserable negotiations. The cities and the provinces
are all leaving the standard of the Emperor, and my
father's countenance brightens daily, for he too, has become
a Patriot; and it is quite amusing to hear one of
the most ancient grandees of the Spanish monarchy,
talking about liberty and the rights of man, as if a thing
of very recent discovery. The Emperor has made the
Patriot general proposals, and the papers are all brought
to my future husband. I tremble even now, as I read
the hated name of the minister of war, signed at the bottom.
How everlastingly tedious are these miserable
politicians; and they will spin out the simplest trifle to a
volume. I have the satisfaction, however, to perceive
that the good man is as impatient and as much vexed at
this delay, as I am. He says nothing about it, and sturdily
continues the air of self-control and the affectation
of philosophy. But I see by his manner that he will be
glad when all this business is settled. I am glad that it
vexes him. We love to see that others have no more
philosophy than ourselves. Why should I complain
we constantly pass the day together, and we chat like
old acquaintances. Instead of fighting the enemy with
guns and swords, we fight with proclamations and long
speeches. It is a hard thing to keep these stupid gen
erals from quarrelling among themselves. My general
is constantly throwing water on their fire. Sant' Ann
confessed to my father to-day, that but for the North
American general, they would all fall together by the
ears, and the cause would fail. This evening is to see me no longer Doña de Alvaro.
My hand trembles, and if the characters which I trace
are a little flurried, I hope you will pardon me, for you
have passed through the same ordeal. Let me tell you
something about these important arrangements. I well
remember and can produce your account of this same
business to me in three whole sheets. I will have more
conscience with you. First then, the Bishop of Mexico
is to solemnize the wedding. He is a venerable man,
dignified and unblameable in the discharge of his holy
functions, and has retained the confidence and respect
of all parties. He could never be prevailed on to take
any part in the usurpation of the Emperor. He has always
been a friend of my father's, and is known to incline
in his feelings towards the Patriots. Secondly, we
are to be publicly married in the church of `Nuestra
Senora de Guadaloupe,' my patroness, and Laura is to
be bridemaid. Poor little thing, her bosom beats almost
as mine! The day, too, is my birth-day! What a singular
coincidence! Thirdly, my father being president
of the provincial junta, there is to be a general illumination.
Fourthly, immediately after my return to my father's
house, Bryan is to be married to a pretty Irish
girl, whom he has found here in the city. Lastly, the
first and last wish of my duena's heart is to be gratified
in her being immediately after married to Matteo
Tonato, the stoutest man in my father's establishment,
and the bridegroom and the bride have charged
themselves with the expense of a shanty for the one
and a casa for the other. The whole is to conclude
with a splendid tertulia and fandango. I shall wish
all this matter in the Red sea. It is all over. I will give you the details in their order.
Just as the sun was setting, my mother and Laura,
and two other distinguished young ladies of the city,
were assisted by the bridegroom into the state coach.
Thirty coaches of invited guests followed. The whole
was escorted by a select body of troops, lately under
the command of my husband. At the head of the procession
was my father accompanied by the Conde de
Serra and the first officers of the Junta. Military
music, firing of cannon, and ringing of bells marked the
commencement of the procession. At the door of the
magnificent church we were received by the Bishop
and the priesthood of the city, all in their most solemn
robes of office. The church, was full to overflowing,
and adorned with evergreens, and covered quite to the
centre of its vaulted dome with that profusion of splendid
flowers in which our city abounds. We walked on
flowers up to the altar. The bridegroom conducted himself
with his usual dignity and calmness, and, after all, the
ceremony was so imposing, and the duties assumed of a
character so formidable, that I felt myself trembling and
faint, and should have conducted myself foolishly but for
the sustaining manner and countenance of my husband.
Amidst clouds of incense, the pious minister, dressed in
robes of the purest white, performed the solemn services
of this Sacrament, and we both pronounced our vows in
a firm and decided voice, after the manner of those who
had meditated the duties of this relation, and resolved to
be faithful to them. The moment the vows were pronounced,
we were literally covered with flowers, and
saluted with vivas from every quarter of the church.
My mother and father embraced and kissed me; and
my husband, you know, had now acquired the right to do
so. Laura too, kissed me, and whispered me, when
returned from the States, to bring her just such a husband,
as mine. The Bishop led me back through the
aisle of the church, and gave me his benediction at the
door. The organ was pealing its grand symphonies, a
I was assisted into my carriage. The city, as we drove
back, was one dazzling mass of illumination. On all
sides was the gaiety of fête, and I much fear of drunk
enness. To my great relief after a night of so much fête and
gaiety, we were entirely en famille in the morning. I
dreaded to see company, and could have chosen to spend
the day alone with my husband. But immediately after
breakfast drove up the Conde's coach. A card was
handed me from Laura, requesting the pleasure of a
drive with me. I sent her for word, that, unless she was
disposed to give a place to my husband, she must positively
excuse me. The message back was, that if he
chose to accompany me back, so much the better. He
consented to accompany me, and the drive was a pleasant
one, except that occasionally when my husband
looked another way, Laura gave me looks so wickedly
and impertinently inquisitive, that I was obliged to assume
matronly airs, look grave, and show her all the
difference in deportment, between a wife and a spinster.
But she is really a most forward child, and answered me
by looks of such merry defiance back again, that I see
nothing will cure her but to be able to put on the same
official dignity herself. I have received your kind letter and the beautiful
rosary accompanying it. I thank you a thousand times
for your kind wishes. I have no apprehension on the
score on which you warn me. I have no terrors of the
weather getting duller after honey moon, as you call it,
VOL. II. 22 *
I only fear that this more intimate view of things will
inspire an idolatry too blind, and that I shall only be
too much tempted to surrender my judgment and my reason
to the keeping of another. When I loved him at a
distance, I knew but the half of his deserts. You must
see the manner, and the motive, that he carries with him
to the sanctuary of our privacy; you must walk and
ride with him, as I do; you must catch his eye as we
scramble together up the mountains, or listen to his conversation
as we sail together on these sweet lakes; in
short you must find him, as I do most full, and rich, and
delightful in that “dear spot, our home,” to do full justice
to his character. Let the Stoics preach that this
life never does, or can yield any thing, but satiety and
disappointment. I know better on experience. I could
live happily on the treasured recollection of the few days
we have had together, for a whole year. If I ever hear
foolish girls affecting to be witty again, as I have so often
heard them before, in declaiming against the wedded
life—by the way, you and I know, with how much
sincerity they do it—I will say to them, “Foolish girls, this
talk is all stuff.” Be married to worthy men as soon as
possible. I have experienced more enjoyment in a day
since marriage, than in a year before. Indeed my
duena seems another sort of person, she is so happy; and
Bryan too, in his strange way, eulogizes matrimony,
and his red-cheeked and yellow-haired spouse blushes
her consent. I am so much the more delighted with the regularity
of your correspondence, as I know you have so many
important occupations. You still express curiosity to
hear from me, though I have passed that dread bourne
where all curiosity and interest generally cease. But I
feel that the energies of my affections, so far from having
become paralyzed by having passed this bourne, have
become more unchanging and more powerful. My conscience
tells me it is a duty to write to you so long as
you feel any desire to hear from me. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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