Manners Volume I Part 4

I would not display the amulet, which guards my heart by its potent charm, to any eye but yours; but I cannot, even in this instance, depart from my usual habit of confidence in you; therefore, here goes my unread rhapsody.

Yours, dear Sedley, ever truly,

FREDERICK ELTON.

TO CHARLES SEDLEY, ESQUIRE.

Catania, March 5, ----

My dear Sedley,

About two months ago I sent you my confession, which you have no doubt received and answered, ere this. It was no sooner gone than I repented I had sent it, thinking it would have been wiser to endeavour to restrain my perhaps unrequited pa.s.sion, than to run the risk of confirming it, by imparting it to another. This was only the escort of a long train of reflections, which ended in a resolution to leave Catania immediately; and in order to divert my mind from the train of thought that had seized it, I resolved to visit Mount Etna, in company with a party of Savans, a.s.sembled for that purpose at this place. We had all the _de quoi_ for a most amusing excursion, men of real science and literature, and still more entertaining pretenders to both; amongst the latter I held a distinguished rank, for in my zeal to acquire the "hardest science," _ere_ "taught a lover yet," I mistook one mineral for another, and miscalled every plant I met; indeed, I might give you a long list of similar blunders, that raised many a learned shoulder and eye-brow to the alt.i.tude of contemptuous surprise!

After the descent from the mountain, I insensibly separated myself from all the party, whose weak senses I had so much astonished; and wandering about the exquisite scenery at the base of Etna, I was more than ever possessed by feelings I had endeavoured to stifle;

Pour cha.s.ser de sa souvenance L'objet qui plait, On se donne tant de souffrance, Pour si peu d'effet!

Une si douce fantaisie, Toujours revient, Et en songeant qu'on doit l'oublier, On s'en souvient[8].

[Footnote 8:

From mem'ry's length'ning chain to part The object that we love, How vain the pang that rends the heart, What fruitless grief we prove!

The dear idea, cherish'd yet, Returns still o'er and o'er, And thinking that we should forget, Impresses it the more.

So to make a long story short, here I am again at Catania, for the purpose of making myself quite sure, that Adelina is as charming as my imagination has depicted her. I really don't think she is, for I certainly did not love her half so much when I was with her as I do now; perhaps my _mind_ was so much amused by her conversation, that little room was left for the expansion of the _feelings_; but they are unrestrained in absence, and its melancholy regrets are, I verily believe, more powerful than the most potent present charm.

If Adelina is the superior character I take her for, I see no one good reason why she should not be my wife: I have, on considering the matter more maturely, put to flight the phantoms I had raised previous to my departure from this place.

My father, when twice my age, (with therefore half the excuse) married for love, therefore why should not I?

I am sure he will give me no opposition, for he has always been a most indulgent parent, and on a point where my happiness is so much concerned, I feel convinced my wishes would be his. Whenever he has, on points of minor importance, wavered in the least, my charming step-dame has always used her influence, to decide him in my favour, therefore I am certain of her support. Indeed what can my father object to in Adelina? He cannot surely want fortune for me? I do not know whether Adelina is or is not possessed of this root of all evil, but if she is not, it is the only want she can possibly have.

But all this is for an after-thought, the preamble must be to gain Adelina's consent: she has shown me no particular preference as yet, but I am determined to think she will not withhold it; _Qui timide rogat docet negare_[9], and the conviction of the success of our plans so often ensures it!

[Footnote 9: Who timidly asks teaches to deny.]

With these hopes I am now as happy, as I was miserable a short time ago. What fools we are to throw away the bliss we might enjoy, at the suggestions of that preposterous prudence, that leads us to seek for flaws in the short leases of happiness that are granted to us, and which, after all, when they expire are renewable at pleasure, if we would but pay the necessary fine, by sacrificing our proud splenetic discontents. Hypochondriac spirits may say as they like; but I will maintain, that to those who make the best of it, this is a very delightful world!

The Marchese di Rosalba has promised to take me to-morrow to the Villa Marinella, where Adelina always goes with her father in the beginning of spring. I shall establish my head quarters within two or three miles of it at Aci reale, through which flows the river immortalized by the loves of Acis and Galatea; and if my Galatea should prove equally kind, no mental or corporeal giant shall destroy our happiness.

Ever yours, dear Sedley,

FREDERICK ELTON.

CHAPTER X.

----He says he loves my daughter, I think so too: for never gaz'd the moon Upon the water, as he'll stand and read As t'were, my daughter's eyes: and to be plain, I think there is not half a kiss to choose, Who loves another best.

If young Doricles Do marry with her, she'll bring him that Which he not dreams of.

SHAKESPEARE.

Mr. ELTON TO CHARLES SEDLEY, ESQ.

Aci reale, July 15,

My dear Sedley,

I believe I informed you, in the beginning of spring, of my intention of coming to this beautiful place, on account of its vicinity to the Villa Marinella, the residence of "La belle Adelina,"

(the appellation my fair one is known by at Catania). I have accomplished almost domesticating myself at this charming villa. I did not give its inhabitants the alarm at first, wishing to ingratiate myself in their favour before they should be aware of the object I had in view. My appearance excited no surprise, as Aci reale was such a natural place for me to choose for my abode at this fine season, from the facilities it affords for examining at leisure all the natural wonders of Etna, and all the wonders of art displayed in the antiquities of Taurominium. Adelina and I conversed on the beautiful ruins of Syracuse; of course, I could not do less than go there to take drawings of them, and she was equally bound in grat.i.tude to examine them most minutely in my presence. One day her father, rather abruptly, asked me if I understood _perspective_? I said I was at that moment studying it, and thought it a most delightful employment! He was concerned that so much good inclination should be thrown away, so insisted on teaching me; and to make the matter worse, took the most abstruse method of doing it. To make a good impression on him I was obliged to brush up my rusty mathematics, and I a.s.sure you it required no small self-command to fix my attention on the points of _sight_ and points of _distance_ he expatiated on; whilst my mind was busily employed in settling these points to my satisfaction, as they regarded Adelina and myself. We have now got on a more agreeable subject, which gives us many delightful hours'

conversation--namely, the beauties natural and artificial of this island. On my second visit to the Villa Marinella, I was taken into a saloon adorned with specimens of every thing Sicily could boast of: the floor was mosaic, of all her different marbles; the hangings of Sicilian silk; the walls were embellished with the paintings of Velasquez--in vases, of the alabaster of the country, bloomed every fragrant flower it produced. There was a cabinet of beautiful workmanship containing highly wrought amber, coral, and cameos; and a Sicilian museum and library of all the best books extant, of native authors ancient and modern, completed the collection. Amongst the moderns Adelina particularly pointed out to me the works of the Abate Ferrara, of Balsamo, Bourigni, and the exquisite poems of Melli and Guegli: the contents of this room afford us constant discussion. Nothing can exceed the beauty of this villa; the hand of taste has been impressed on it from the first stone to the last: it is seated in a rich vale at the foot of Etna, from which pours many a stream in foamy swiftness. The sea is seen, here and there, like a smooth gla.s.sy lake, through the dark foliage of magnificent forest trees, whose sombre hues are admirably contrasted with the brilliant tints of the orange and the vine. The myrtle, the rose, and all the choicest favourites of Flora are "poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain." The beauty of the sky, the balmy fragrance of the air, and the cla.s.sical and poetical a.s.sociations which the surrounding scenery brings to the mind, conspire to give a charm to this delightful spot, which no words can convey to the mind of one who has not roamed amidst its enchantments, and still less can language do justice to the feelings of him who has!

Adelina is just the being you would fancy such a scene should produce; no cloud of sorrow, or of error, seems ever to have thrown on her its dark shade; serene in conscious virtue and happiness, and resplendent in mental and physical loveliness,

"She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies."

I have this day said to this charming creature every thing that man can say, except those four words, "Will you marry me?" and was proceeding to give them utterance, when I was most unseasonably interrupted. From her surprise and confusion I augur well; whenever I am secure of my happiness you shall know it, but perhaps you are tired of all this, and are ready to say with Virgil,

Sicelides musae, paullo majora canamus; Non omnes arbusta juvant, humilesque myricae[10].

Yours ever,

FREDERICK ELTON.

[Footnote 10:

Sicilian muse, begin a loftier strain; The lowly shrubs and trees that shade the plain Delight not all.

DRYDEN.

TO CHARLES SEDLEY, ESQUIRE.

Aci reale, August 3, ----

Upon my soul, Sedley, you are a pretty father confessor, and give pious admonition!

I am quite _indignant_ at your answer to my first letter from Catania; either you or I must be greatly changed since we parted. I don't think our friendship could ever have been formed, if in the first instance our sentiments had been so dissimilar. I must honestly tell you, that if you ever write me such another letter about Adelina, our correspondence ceases on that head. It is true this charming Sicilian maid is fairer than Proserpine; but am I Pluto, that could tear her from the arms of her fond parent, and from the bright sphere she now moves in, to condemn her to the shades of woe, from which she could know no return? So powerfully do I feel "the might, the majesty of loveliness," that such a thought never entered my head, nor would it yours, if you had ever seen her; for one glance of her angelic eye would, like the touch of Ithuriel's spear, put to flight all the offspring of evil. Since I wrote to you last, Adelina's manner to me has totally changed; I scarcely ever see her when I come to the villa. I can't tell what to attribute this to, unless she thinks I have said too much and too little. The matter shan't rest long in doubt;--her father goes to Catania to-morrow, and I will take that opportunity for a complete explanation. I cannot tell you how much I dread the crisis of my fate so near at hand! No folly of my own shall deprive me of a wife possessed of every charm, and every virtue, that can sweeten or adorn life. If it did, I should deserve to be condemned to that matrimonial limbo my father and his frigid Venus are so pitiably bound in. I would prefer to such a trial the most ardent Purgatory!

A wife so charming and so unloving would drive me mad!