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Heavenly Kingdoms - Chapter 1
Letter 1 – From Richard Charlston to Anne Charlston, 2nd of May, 1856.
Dear Anne,
I apologise for the delay in writing this letter, given you wrote some three weeks past inquiring into my wellbeing, no doubt spurred by my coming departure; regardless, dear sister, do not think I am not touched with you reaching out to me given my self-imposed distance from our family affairs. I have been much occupied in the garrison as you know, but such are the excuses of all wayward brothers (and prodigal sons). But as for my condition: our spirits are maintained at present as we hope yours are too, if not improved. These times have not been easy for any of us but discipline and a level head maintains the civilised way of our people; fortitude built through duty and all that nonsense. Something must keep us occupied to stop the wandering mind from conjuring demons to debase its own establishment; though its best never to trade blows with the infernal when such beasties can be avoided. It’s conservation of stamina you see; easier to run than stay and fight – Or better yet: stay still and not fright; a demon is ethereal after all. But so it goes; our mind can make corporeal what should otherwise be of air.
But of duty. There are other kinds besides that of Queen and Country. Duty to ourselves for instance; selfish though it seems, but worth a moment’s notice. It can be hard to grasp the enormity of our struggle as we know we do not only live for ourselves now but also those iterations of ourselves still to come who may look blackly upon the decisions we made at any given epoch, but know this: our future selves have no right to claim dominion upon that territory our past selves inhabit for they are not there, living through its trials - its pains - so they can bluster all they want of past mistakes and “wasted” time that was not centred around what presently absorbs their interest. They, to whom all fun and frivolity are careless wastes, yet to youth are the very blood of life – how can the wizened self speak of past mistakes without awareness of the malleability of their own soul? Thus I say dearest Anne, do not look to the past to lay your blame – you are not who you once were, you could not know you had made such mistakes if they had not been made; such is the essence of wisdom – and do not seek assurance from your future selves every time you light upon some activity of interest to yourself in this moment.
As for my ramblings in this vein I’m sure you have divined that I refer to your current insistence on staying on to nurse our drunken fool of a father; an apparent repentance for your youthful wanderings, fancies that you now regret; wishing you had been the dutiful daughter from day dot and, somehow, through your diligence, could have prevented his descent into oblivion precipitated by mother’s loss, by filling her role; thus curbing or preventing his current state from manifesting so severely. There may be truth in it; you may have helped him had you been the martyr you dream of becoming but here’s the rub: You weren’t such a girl at such a time and no force on Earth could have forged you into such. What good could you have been, distracted as you were by the moon, stars and prospects of romantic escape? Even now, with all these lessons learned you still struggle to maintain your vigilance upon your charge; how then could you have done it at your silliest?
Fate is not always kind and it appears to have chosen our family with which to make an example. It cares nothing for the fitness of those it throws together and such is the case with yourself and father. Perhaps now you could make a difference, but at what cost? You shall be thirty soon and with experience you have developed a sensible head and would be sure to choose a sensible man should you be open to such a proposition. Mrs Cruikshank can take care of father as she ever has. You should be free to utilise your own hard won will to forge your own life rather than wasting it on attempting the rehabilitation of that old fool.
Regardless dear sister, I must depart in a fortnight for the Orient as you know; please let me know your reply before I leave.
Your loving brother,
Richard
---
Letter 2 – From Anne Charlston to Richard Charlston, 7th of May, 1856.
Dear Richard,
I will admit I was somewhat taken aback by the philosophical turn of your last letter, particularly in the coldness which you apply to the doings of our family, but I understand that you have always found refuge in the rational so will try to respond in as like a manner as I am capable, although such detachment has always been a struggle of mine. It is difficult to know where to begin with addressing the grievances you raise about father and my position at his side.
Perhaps I will start with your condemnation of father as “an old fool” not worth my time in nursing back to health. I acknowledge freely that I was his favoured child and you were the son that never lived up his dreams of what your position as heir entails for a rigid mind such as he, but should your understandable frustrations at his character be a reason to abandon him entirely to the whim of fate (as you would call it)? Would not a beggar on the street be worthy of our assistance if starving and had done nothing but cursed our prosperity each time we passed? If he, then why not our father? I know you are sceptical of the values of Christ, and I pray for your illumination one day (I know you roll your eyes, but its true that I pray for you), but I know there is some charitable part of your heart which is misguided in its attention to myself whose suffering is not one tenth of what our father suffers. You see the lashing out, the abuse, the cursing and think there is no good in him, but goodness is not the prerequisite of charity. He is in the abyss and you think it just I should abandon him to darkness? As for Mrs Cruikshank she does only what a servant can do; bring his food, change his linen, clean his environment etcetera. but this cannot hope to repair the wound in his heart. That is the business of love and a daughter’s love should suffice for this operation.
Now, regarding my so called potential for personal fulfilment that my caring for father smothers before it may bloom, I strongly believe the will I have recently obtained is owing to the guilt of my neglect of our father. It is possible that what you say is true: that I could have had no influence upon his descent but the guilt that I suffered was real and I believe has wrought a change for the better in my temperament. Should I then abandon the responsibility that the very change in me owes to its creation? Such would negate its very being. If you recall I was free for some ten years, and what have I to show for my liberty? You know yourself. I take solace from your words regarding my past regrets and thank you for them brother, truly, but I am not so sanguine about the future and my place within it. I will meditate further on what you have said but for now I am content with my occupation.
I am sorry we had to end our communications in England in such a manner, and I wish you the safest of voyages across the Earth dear brother. May mother’s spirit guide your sails to safety.
Your dearest sister,
Anne
---
Letter 3 – From Richard Charlston to Anne Charlston, 11th of May, 1856.
Dear Anne,
Perhaps I was too harsh in my last letter and I thank you for enduring its soulless lines and seeing fit to reply in kind. When we are absent from those we love, or once did, it can be easy to become detached from those intimacies that bind us together in all sorrows and joys, and I believe this has happened to me in regards to you. I can no longer gauge the depth of your connection to father and the severity of your guilt so thus am a tactless brute in my ramblings. As for father, would you believe (perhaps you will), that my fondness for him has grown over time absent of his presence, which, you will no doubt agree, is wholly insufferable. The wounds he made have mostly healed and I do not hold eternal ill-will against him, all of which should help to prove my disinterestedness in this situation, being as it is not designed for the abandonment of he but the saviour of yourself. But I have said enough; you will meditate on it as you say and I will say no more at this time until you have considered your thoughts.
My ship and duty await dear sister. I wish our transactions could be warmer than they are but such has been our regrettable accord since those dark days of our family’s descent. May greater distance enhance our affections and may you succeed in your efforts with father in my lamentable absence.
Your humble brother,
Richard
P.S. I have not forgotten your earlier request to learn more first hand of the so-called Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and their leader, a self-proclaimed brother of Christ himself. I will find what I can and report my findings to the pleasure of your curiosity. Perhaps in this I can provide through adventure what I supposedly lack in compassion.
Dear Anne,
I apologise for the delay in writing this letter, given you wrote some three weeks past inquiring into my wellbeing, no doubt spurred by my coming departure; regardless, dear sister, do not think I am not touched with you reaching out to me given my self-imposed distance from our family affairs. I have been much occupied in the garrison as you know, but such are the excuses of all wayward brothers (and prodigal sons). But as for my condition: our spirits are maintained at present as we hope yours are too, if not improved. These times have not been easy for any of us but discipline and a level head maintains the civilised way of our people; fortitude built through duty and all that nonsense. Something must keep us occupied to stop the wandering mind from conjuring demons to debase its own establishment; though its best never to trade blows with the infernal when such beasties can be avoided. It’s conservation of stamina you see; easier to run than stay and fight – Or better yet: stay still and not fright; a demon is ethereal after all. But so it goes; our mind can make corporeal what should otherwise be of air.
But of duty. There are other kinds besides that of Queen and Country. Duty to ourselves for instance; selfish though it seems, but worth a moment’s notice. It can be hard to grasp the enormity of our struggle as we know we do not only live for ourselves now but also those iterations of ourselves still to come who may look blackly upon the decisions we made at any given epoch, but know this: our future selves have no right to claim dominion upon that territory our past selves inhabit for they are not there, living through its trials - its pains - so they can bluster all they want of past mistakes and “wasted” time that was not centred around what presently absorbs their interest. They, to whom all fun and frivolity are careless wastes, yet to youth are the very blood of life – how can the wizened self speak of past mistakes without awareness of the malleability of their own soul? Thus I say dearest Anne, do not look to the past to lay your blame – you are not who you once were, you could not know you had made such mistakes if they had not been made; such is the essence of wisdom – and do not seek assurance from your future selves every time you light upon some activity of interest to yourself in this moment.
As for my ramblings in this vein I’m sure you have divined that I refer to your current insistence on staying on to nurse our drunken fool of a father; an apparent repentance for your youthful wanderings, fancies that you now regret; wishing you had been the dutiful daughter from day dot and, somehow, through your diligence, could have prevented his descent into oblivion precipitated by mother’s loss, by filling her role; thus curbing or preventing his current state from manifesting so severely. There may be truth in it; you may have helped him had you been the martyr you dream of becoming but here’s the rub: You weren’t such a girl at such a time and no force on Earth could have forged you into such. What good could you have been, distracted as you were by the moon, stars and prospects of romantic escape? Even now, with all these lessons learned you still struggle to maintain your vigilance upon your charge; how then could you have done it at your silliest?
Fate is not always kind and it appears to have chosen our family with which to make an example. It cares nothing for the fitness of those it throws together and such is the case with yourself and father. Perhaps now you could make a difference, but at what cost? You shall be thirty soon and with experience you have developed a sensible head and would be sure to choose a sensible man should you be open to such a proposition. Mrs Cruikshank can take care of father as she ever has. You should be free to utilise your own hard won will to forge your own life rather than wasting it on attempting the rehabilitation of that old fool.
Regardless dear sister, I must depart in a fortnight for the Orient as you know; please let me know your reply before I leave.
Your loving brother,
Richard
---
Letter 2 – From Anne Charlston to Richard Charlston, 7th of May, 1856.
Dear Richard,
I will admit I was somewhat taken aback by the philosophical turn of your last letter, particularly in the coldness which you apply to the doings of our family, but I understand that you have always found refuge in the rational so will try to respond in as like a manner as I am capable, although such detachment has always been a struggle of mine. It is difficult to know where to begin with addressing the grievances you raise about father and my position at his side.
Perhaps I will start with your condemnation of father as “an old fool” not worth my time in nursing back to health. I acknowledge freely that I was his favoured child and you were the son that never lived up his dreams of what your position as heir entails for a rigid mind such as he, but should your understandable frustrations at his character be a reason to abandon him entirely to the whim of fate (as you would call it)? Would not a beggar on the street be worthy of our assistance if starving and had done nothing but cursed our prosperity each time we passed? If he, then why not our father? I know you are sceptical of the values of Christ, and I pray for your illumination one day (I know you roll your eyes, but its true that I pray for you), but I know there is some charitable part of your heart which is misguided in its attention to myself whose suffering is not one tenth of what our father suffers. You see the lashing out, the abuse, the cursing and think there is no good in him, but goodness is not the prerequisite of charity. He is in the abyss and you think it just I should abandon him to darkness? As for Mrs Cruikshank she does only what a servant can do; bring his food, change his linen, clean his environment etcetera. but this cannot hope to repair the wound in his heart. That is the business of love and a daughter’s love should suffice for this operation.
Now, regarding my so called potential for personal fulfilment that my caring for father smothers before it may bloom, I strongly believe the will I have recently obtained is owing to the guilt of my neglect of our father. It is possible that what you say is true: that I could have had no influence upon his descent but the guilt that I suffered was real and I believe has wrought a change for the better in my temperament. Should I then abandon the responsibility that the very change in me owes to its creation? Such would negate its very being. If you recall I was free for some ten years, and what have I to show for my liberty? You know yourself. I take solace from your words regarding my past regrets and thank you for them brother, truly, but I am not so sanguine about the future and my place within it. I will meditate further on what you have said but for now I am content with my occupation.
I am sorry we had to end our communications in England in such a manner, and I wish you the safest of voyages across the Earth dear brother. May mother’s spirit guide your sails to safety.
Your dearest sister,
Anne
---
Letter 3 – From Richard Charlston to Anne Charlston, 11th of May, 1856.
Dear Anne,
Perhaps I was too harsh in my last letter and I thank you for enduring its soulless lines and seeing fit to reply in kind. When we are absent from those we love, or once did, it can be easy to become detached from those intimacies that bind us together in all sorrows and joys, and I believe this has happened to me in regards to you. I can no longer gauge the depth of your connection to father and the severity of your guilt so thus am a tactless brute in my ramblings. As for father, would you believe (perhaps you will), that my fondness for him has grown over time absent of his presence, which, you will no doubt agree, is wholly insufferable. The wounds he made have mostly healed and I do not hold eternal ill-will against him, all of which should help to prove my disinterestedness in this situation, being as it is not designed for the abandonment of he but the saviour of yourself. But I have said enough; you will meditate on it as you say and I will say no more at this time until you have considered your thoughts.
My ship and duty await dear sister. I wish our transactions could be warmer than they are but such has been our regrettable accord since those dark days of our family’s descent. May greater distance enhance our affections and may you succeed in your efforts with father in my lamentable absence.
Your humble brother,
Richard
P.S. I have not forgotten your earlier request to learn more first hand of the so-called Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and their leader, a self-proclaimed brother of Christ himself. I will find what I can and report my findings to the pleasure of your curiosity. Perhaps in this I can provide through adventure what I supposedly lack in compassion.
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