Love-Letters Between a Nobleman and His Sister

Aphra Behn

Description

The first prominent female writer working in English, author Aphra Behn lived a fascinating life, spending time as a spy for the U.K. before turning her attention to literary pursuits. This novel tells the tale of a young woman who is seduced by her loutish brother-in-law and then goes to extreme lengths to secure their unholy union.

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776539055
• Langue: English

Extrait

LOVE-LETTERS BETWEEN A NOBLEMAN AND HIS SISTER
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APHRA BEHN
 
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Love-Letters Between a Nobleman and His Sister First published in 1687 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-905-5 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-906-2 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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The Argument Part I - Love-Letters Between a Noble-Man and His Sister Part II - Love Letters from a Noble Man to His Sister Part III - The Amours of Philander and Silvia
The Argument
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In the time of the rebellion of the true Protestant Huguenot in Paris , under the conduct of the Prince of Condé (whom we will call Cesario ) many illustrious persons were drawn into the association,amongst which there was one, whose quality and fortune (joined withhis youth and beauty) rendered him more elevated in the esteem of thegay part of the world than most of that age. In his tender years(unhappily enough) he chanced to fall in love with a lady, whom wewill call Myrtilla , who had charms enough to engage any heart; shehad all the advantages of youth and nature; a shape excellent; a mostagreeable stature, not too tall, and far from low, delicatelyproportioned; her face a little inclined round, soft, smooth andwhite; her eyes were blue, a little languishing, and full of love andwit; a mouth curiously made, dimpled, and full of sweetness; lipsround, soft, plump and red; white teeth, firm and even; her nose alittle Roman , and which gave a noble grace to her lovely face, herhair light brown; a neck and bosom delicately turned, white andrising; her arms and hands exactly shaped; to this a vivacity of youthengaging; a wit quick and flowing; a humour gay, and an airirresistibly charming; and nothing was wanting to complete the joys ofthe young Philander , (so we call our amorous hero) but Myrtilla 'sheart, which the illustrious Cesario had before possessed; however,consulting her honour and her interest, and knowing all the arts aswomen do to feign a tenderness; she yields to marry him: while Philander , who scorned to owe his happiness to the commands ofparents, or to chaffer for a beauty, with her consent steals her away,and marries her. But see how transitory is a violent passion; afterbeing satiated, he slights the prize he had so dearly conquered; somesay, the change was occasioned by her too visibly continued love to Cesario ; but whatever it was, this was most certain, Philander cast his eyes upon a young maid, sister to Myrtilla , a beauty, whoseearly bloom promised wonders when come to perfection; but I will spareher picture here, Philander in the following epistles will oftenenough present it to your view: He loved and languished, long beforehe durst discover his pain; her being sister to his wife, nobly born,and of undoubted fame, rendered his passion too criminal to hope for areturn, while the young lovely Sylvia (so we shall call the noblemaid) sighed out her hours in the same pain and languishment for Philander , and knew not that it was love, till she betraying itinnocently to the overjoyed lover and brother, he soon taught her tounderstand it was love—he pursues it, she permits it, and at lastyields, when being discovered in the criminal intrigue, she flies withhim; he absolutely quits Myrtilla , lives some time in a village near Paris , called St Denis , with this betrayed unfortunate, till beingfound out, and like to be apprehended, (one for the rape, the otherfor the flight) she is forced to marry a cadet, a creature of Philander 's, to bear the name of husband only to her, while Philander had the entire possession of her soul and body: still the League went forward, and all things were ready for a war in Paris ;but it is not my business here to mix the rough relation of a war,with the soft affairs of love; let it suffice, the Huguenots weredefeated, and the King got the day, and every rebel lay at the mercyof his sovereign. Philander was taken prisoner, made his escape to alittle cottage near his own palace, not far from Paris , writes to Sylvia to come to him, which she does, and in spite of all theindustry to re-seize him, he got away with Sylvia .
After their flight these letters were found in their cabinets, attheir house at St Denis , where they both lived together, for thespace of a year; and they are as exactly as possible placed in theorder they were sent, and were those supposed to be written towardsthe latter end of their amours.
Part I - Love-Letters Between a Noble-Man and His Sister
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To SYLVIA.
Though I parted from you resolved to obey your impossible commands,yet know, oh charming Sylvia ! that after a thousand conflictsbetween love and honour, I found the god (too mighty for the idol)reign absolute monarch in my soul, and soon banished that tyrantthence. That cruel counsellor that would suggest to you a thousandfond arguments to hinder my noble pursuit; Sylvia came in view! herirresistible Idea ! With all the charms of blooming youth, with allthe attractions of heavenly beauty! Loose, wanton, gay, all flowingher bright hair, and languishing her lovely eyes, her dress allnegligent as when I saw her last, discovering a thousand ravishinggraces, round, white, small breasts, delicate neck, and rising bosom,heaved with sighs she would in vain conceal; and all besides, thatnicest fancy can imagine surprising—Oh I dare not think on, lest mydesires grow mad and raving; let it suffice, oh adorable Sylvia ! Ithink and know enough to justify that flame in me, which our weakalliance of brother and sister has rendered so criminal; but he thatadores Sylvia , should do it at an uncommon rate; 'tis not enough tosacrifice a single heart, to give you a simple passion, your beautyshould, like itself, produce wondrous effects; it should force allobligations, all laws, all ties even of nature's self: you, my lovelymaid, were not born to be obtained by the dull methods of ordinaryloving; and 'tis in vain to prescribe me measures; and oh much more invain to urge the nearness of our relation. What kin, my charming Sylvia , are you to me? No ties of blood forbid my passion; andwhat's a ceremony imposed on man by custom? What is it to my divine Sylvia , that the priest took my hand and gave it to your sister?What alliance can that create? Why should a trick devised by the waryold, only to make provision for posterity, tie me to an eternalslavery? No, no, my charming maid, 'tis nonsense all; let us, (bornfor mightier joys) scorn the dull beaten road , but let us love likethe first race of men, nearest allied to God, promiscuously theyloved, and possessed, father and daughter, brother and sister met, andreaped the joys of love without control, and counted it religiouscoupling, and 'twas encouraged too by heaven itself: therefore startnot (too nice and lovely maid) at shadows of things that can butfrighten fools. Put me not off with these delays; rather say you butdissembled love all this while, than now 'tis born, to die again witha poor fright of nonsense. A fit of honour! a phantom imaginary, andno more; no, no, represent me to your soul more favourably, think yousee me languishing at your feet, breathing out my last in sighs andkind reproaches, on the pitiless Sylvia ; reflect when I am dead,which will be the more afflicting object, the ghost (as you arepleased to call it) of your murdered honour, or the pale and bleedingone of
The lost PHILANDER.
I have lived a whole day,and yet no letter from Sylvia.
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To PHILANDER.
OH why will you make me own (oh too importunate Philander !) withwhat regret I made you promise to prefer my honour before your love?
I confess with blushes, which you might then see kindling in my face,that I was not at all pleased with the vows you made me, to endeavourto obey me, and I then even wished you would obstinately have deniedobedience to my just commands; have pursued your criminal flame, andhave left me raving on my undoing: for when you were gone, and I hadleisure to look into my heart, alas! I found, whether you obliged ornot, whether love or honour were preferred, I, unhappy I, was eitherway inevitably lost. Oh! what pitiless god, fond of his wondrouspower, made us the objects of his almighty vanity? Oh why were we twomade the first precedents of his new found revenge? For sure nobrother ever loved a sister with so criminal a flame before: at leastmy inexperienced innocence never met with so fatal a story: and it isin vain (my too charming brother) to make me insensible of ouralliance; to persuade me I am a stranger to all but your eyes andsoul.
Alas, your fatally kind industry is all in vain. You grew up a brotherwith me; the title was fixed in my heart, when I was too young tounderstand your subtle distinctions, and there it thrived and spread;and it is now too late to transplant it, or alter its native property:who can graft a flower on a contrary stalk? The rose will bear notulips, nor the hyacinth the poppy, no more will the brother the nameof lover. Oh! spoil not the natural sweetness and innocence we nowretain, by an endeavour fruitless and destructive; no, no, Philander , dress yourself in what charms you will, be powerful aslove can make you in your soft argument—yet, oh yet, you are mybrother still.—But why, oh cruel and eternal powers, was not Philander my lover before you destined him a brother? Or why, beinga brother, did you, malicious and spiteful powers, destine him alover? Oh, take either title from him, or from me a life, which canrender me