Your zeal to apologize for Lord B---- was unnecessary, as I was never inclined to think ill of him. Indeed how should I judge of a man, with whom I spent only one afternoon? or how can you have been sufficiently acquainted with him in the space of a few days? I spoke only from conjecture; nor do I suppose that you can argue on any better foundation: his proposals to you are of that vague kind of which strangers are frequently lavish, from their being easily eluded, and because they give them an air of consequence. But your character of his Lordship is another proof of your natural vivacity, and of that ease with which you are prejudiced for or against people at first sight. Nevertheless, we will think of his proposals more at leisure. If love should favour my project, perhaps something better may offer. O, my dear friend, patience is exceeding bitter; but its fruits are most delicious!
To return to our Englishman, I told you he appeared to have a truly great and intrepid soul; but that he was rather sensible than agreeable. You seem almost of the same opinion, and then, with that air of masculine superiority, always visible in our humble admirers, you reproach me with being a woman once in my life; as if a woman ought ever to belie her sex.
Have you forgot our dispute, when we were reading your _Republic of Plato_, about the moral distinction between the sexes? I have still the same difficulty to suppose there can be but one common model of perfection for two beings so essentially different. Attack and defence, the impudence of the men, and female modesty, are by no means effects of the same cause as the philosophers have imagined; but natural institutions which may be easily accounted for, and from which may be deduced every other moral distinction. Besides, the designs of nature being different in each, their inclinations, their perceptions ought necessarily to be directed according to their different views: to till the ground, and to nourish children, require very opposite tastes and constitutions. A higher stature, stronger voice and features, seem indeed to be no indispensable marks of distinction; but this external difference evidently indicates the intention of the Creator in the modification of the mind. The soul of a perfect woman and a perfect man ought to be no more alike than their faces. All our vain imitations of your sex are absurd; they expose us to the ridicule of sensible men, and discourage the tender passions we were made to inspire. In short, unless we are near six foot high, have a bass voice, and a beard upon our chins, we have no business to pretend to be men.
What novices are you lovers in the art of reproaching! You accuse me of a fault which I have not committed, or of which, however, you are as frequently guilty as myself; and you attribute it to a defeat of which I am proud. But in return for your plain dealing, suffer me to give you my plain and sincere opinion of your sincerity. Why then, it appears to be a refinement of flattery, calculated, under the disguise of an apparent freedom of expression, to justify to yourself the enthusiastic praises which, upon every occasion, you are so liberally pleased to bestow on me. You are so blinded by my imaginary perfections, that you can discover no real ones to excuse your prepossessions in my favour.
Believe me, my friend, you are not qualified to tell me my faults. Do you think the eyes of love, piercing as they are, can discover imperfect? No, ’tis a power which belongs only to honest friendship, and in that your pupil Clara is much your superior. Yes, my dear friend, you shall praise me, admire me, and think me charming and beautiful and spotless. Thy praises please without deceiving me I know it to be the language of error and not of deceit; that you deceive yourself, but have no design to deceive me. O how delightful are the illusions of love! and surely all its flattery is truth; for the heart speaks, though the judgment is silent. The lover who praises in us that which we do not possess, represents our qualities truly as they appear to him; he speaks a falsity without being guilty of a lie; he is a flatterer without meanness, and one may esteem without believing him.
I have heard, not without some little palpitation, a proposal to invite two philosophers to-morrow to supper. One is my Lord B----, and the other a certain sage whose gravity hath sometimes been a little discomposed at the feet of a young disciple. Do you know the man? If you do, pray desire that he will to-morrow preserve the philosophic decorum a little better than usual. I shall take care to order the young damsel to cast her eyes downward, and to appear in his as little engaging as possible.
Letter XLVII. To Eloisa.
Malicious girl! Is this the circumspection you promised? Is it thus you spare my heart, and draw a veil over your charms? How often did you break your engagement! First, as to your dress; for you were in an undress, though you well know that you are never more bewitching. Secondly, that modest air and sweetness in your manner so calculated for the gradual display of all your graces. Your conversation more refined, more studied, more witty than usual, which made every one so uncommonly attentive, that they seemed impatiently to anticipate every sentence you spoke. That delightful air you sung below your usual pitch, which rendered your voice more enchantingly soft, and which made your song, though French, please even Lord B----. Your down-cast eyes, and your timid glances which pierced me to the soul. In a word, that inexpressible enchantment which seemed spread over your whole person to turn the brains of the company, even without the least apparent design. For my part, I know not how to manage; but if this is the method you take to be _as little engaging as possible_, I assure you, however, it is being infinitely too much so for people to retain their senses in your company.
I doubt much whether the poor English philosopher has not perceived a little of the same influence. After we had conducted your cousin home, seeing us all in high spirits, he proposed that we should retire to his lodgings and have a little music, and a bowl of punch. While his servants were assembling, he never ceased talking of you; but with so much warmth, that, I confess, I should not hear his praise from your lips with as much pleasure as you did from mine. Upon the whole, I am not fond of hearing any body speak of you, except your cousin. Every word seems to deprive me of a part of my secret, or my pleasure, and whatever they say appears so suspicious, or is so infinitely short of what I feel, that I would hear no discourse upon the subject but my own.
It is not that, like you, I am at all inclined to jealousy: no, I am better acquainted with the soul of my Eloisa; and I have certain sureties that exclude even the possibility of your inconstancy. After your protestations, I have nothing more to say concerning your other pretenders; but this Lord, Eloisa----equality of rank----your father’s prepossession----In short, you know my life is depending. For heaven’s sake, deign to give me a line or two upon this subject: one single word from Eloisa, and I shall be satisfied for ever.
I passed the night in attending to, and playing, Italian music; for there were some duets, and I was forced to take a part. I dare not yet tell you what effect it had on me; but I fear, I fear, the impression of last night’s supper influenced the harmony, and that I mistook the effect of your enchantment for the power of music. Why should not the same cause which made it disagreeable at Sion, gave it a contrary effect in a contrary situation? Are not you the source of every affection of my soul, and am I proof against the power of your magic? If it had really been the music which produced the enchantment, every one present must have been affected in the same manner; but whilst I was all rapture and extasy, Mr. Orbe sat snoring in an armed chair, and when I awoke him with my exclamations, all the praise he bestowed was to ask, whether your cousin understood Italian.
All this will be better explained to-morrow; for we are to have another concert this evening. His Lordship is determined to have it compleat, and has sent to Lausanne for a second violin, who, he says, is a tolerable hand. On my part, I shall carry some French _scenes_ and cantatas.
When I first returned to my room I sunk into my chair, quite exhausted and overcome; for want of practice I am but a poor rake: but I no sooner took my pen to write to you, than I found myself gradually recover. Yet I must endeavour to sleep a few hours. Come with me; my sweet friend, and do not leave me whilst I slumber but whether thy image brings me pain or pleasure, whether it reminds me, or not, of Fanny’s wedding, it cannot deprive me of that delightful moment, when I shall awake and recollect my felicity.
Letter XLVIII. To Eloisa.
Ah! my Eloisa, how have I been entertained! What melting sounds! what music! delightful source of sensibility and pleasure! Lose not a moment; collect your operas, your cantatas, in a word all your French music; then make a very hot fire, and cast the wretched, stuff into the flames: be sure you stir it well, that, cold as it is, it may once at least send forth a little warmth. Make this sacrifice to the God of taste, to expiate our mutual crime in having profaned your voice with such doleful psalmody, and so long mistaking a noise that stunned our ears for the pathetic language of the heart. How entirely your worthy brother was in the right; and in what unaccountable ignorance have I lived, concerning the productions of that charming art! It gave me but little pleasure, and therefore I thought it naturally impotent. music, I said, is a vain sound, that only flatters the ear, and makes little or no impression upon the mind. The effect of harmonic sounds is entirely mechanical or physical; and what have these to do with sentiment? Why should I expect to be moved with musical chords more than with a proper agreement of colours? But I never perceived, in the accents of melody applied to those of language, the secret but powerful unison between music and the passions. I had no idea that the same sensations which modulate the voice of an orator, gives the singer a still greater power over our hearts, and that the energic expression of his own feelings is the sympathetic cause of all our emotion.