Cosenza
Why is it, my friend, that you are determined to fly to so immense a distance? You call me cruel, you charge me with unfeelingness and inflexibility, and yet to my prayers you are deaf, to my intreaties you are inexorable.
I have satisfied all the claims of decorum. I have fulfilled with rigid exactness the laws of decency. One advantage you at least gain by the distance you are so desirous to place between us. My sentiments are less guarded. Reputation and modesty have fewer claims upon a woman, who can have no intercourse with her lover but by letter. My feelings are less restrained. For the anxiety, which distance inspires, awakens all the tenderness of my nature, and raises a tempest in my soul that will not be controled.
Oh, my St. Julian, till this late and lasting separation, I did not know all the affection I bore you. Ever since you were parted from my aching eyes, I have not known the serenity of a moment. The image of my friend has been the constant companion of my waking hours, and has visited me again in my dreams. The unknown dangers of the ocean swell in my eyes to ten times their natural magnitude. Fickle and inconstant enemy, how much I dread thee! Oh wast the lord of all my wishes in safety to the destined harbour! May all the winds be still! May the tempests forget their wonted rage! May every guardian power protect his voyage! Open not, oh ocean, thy relentless bosom to yield him a watery grave! For once be gentle and auspicious! Listen and grant a lover's prayer! Restore him to my presence! May the dear sight of him once more refresh these longing eyes! You will find this letter accompanied with a small parcel, in which I have inclosed the miniature of myself, which I have often heard you praise as a much better likeness than the larger pictures. It will probably afford you some gratification during that absence of which you so feelingly complain. It will suggest to you those thoughts upon the subject of our love that have most in them of the calm and soothing. It will be no unpleasant companion of your reveries, and may sometimes amuse and cheat your deluded fancy.
Letter V
The Answer
Alicant
I am just arrived at this place, after a tedious and disagreeable voyage. As we passed along the coast of Barbary we came in sight of many of the corsairs with which that part of the world is infested. One of them in particular, of larger burden than the rest, gave us chace, and for some time we thought ourselves in considerable danger. Our ship however proved the faster sailer, and quickly carried us out of sight. Having escaped this danger, and nearly reached the Baleares, we were overtaken by a tremendous storm. For some days the ship was driven at the mercy of the winds; and, as the coast of those islands is surrounded with invisible rocks, our peril was considerable.
In the midst of danger however my thoughts were full of Matilda. Had the ocean buried me in its capacious bosom, my last words would have been of you, my last vows would have been made for your happiness. Had we been taken by the enemy and carried into slavery, slavery would have had no terrors, but those which consisted in the additional bars it would have created between me and the mistress of my heart. It would have been of little importance whether I had fallen to the lot of a despot, gentle or severe. It would have separated us for years, perhaps for ever. Could I, who have been so much afflicted by the separation of a few months, have endured a punishment like this? That soft intercourse, that wafts the thoughts of lovers to so vast a distance, that mimics so well an actual converse, that cheats the weary heart of all its cares, would have been dissolved for ever. Little then would have been the moment of a few petty personal considerations; I should not long have survived.
I only wait at this place to refresh myself for a few days, from a fatigue so perfectly new to me, and then shall set out with all speed for Madrid. My Matilda will readily believe that that business which detains me at so vast a distance from my happiness, will be dispatched with as much expedition as its nature will admit. I will not sacrifice to any selfish considerations the interest of my friend, I will not neglect the minutest exertion by which it may be in my power to serve his cause. But the moment I have discharged what I owe to him, no power upon earth shall delay my return, no not for an hour.