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Title: OrmondAuthor: Charles Brockden Brown* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *eBook No.: 0605271h.htmlLanguage: EnglishDate first posted: August 2006Date most recently updated: August 2006This eBook was produced by: Richard ScottProject Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editionswhich are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright noticeis included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particularpaper edition.Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing thisfile.This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online athttp://gutenberg.net.au/licence.htmlTo contact Project Gutenberg of Australia go to http://gutenberg.net.au
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Letter
TO I. E. ROSENBERG.--
You are anxious to obtain some knowledge of the history ofConstantia Dudley. I am well acquainted with your motives, and allowthat they justify your curiosity. I am willing, to the utmost of mypower, to comply with your request, and will now dedicate what leisureI have to the composition of her story.
My narrative will have little of that merit which flows from unityof design. You are desirous of hearing an authentic, and not afictitious tale. It will, therefore, be my duty to relate events in noartificial or elaborate order, and without that harmonious congruityand luminous amplification, which might justly be displayed in a taleflowing merely from invention. It will be little more than abiographical sketch, in which the facts are distributed and amplified,not as a poetical taste would prescribe, but as the materials affordedme, sometimes abundant and sometimes scanty, would permit.
Constance, like all the beings made known to us, not by fancy, butexperience, has numerous defects. You will readily perceive, that hertale is told by her friend, but I hope you will not discover many orglaring proofs of a disposition to extenuate her errors or falsify hercharacter.
will, perhaps, appear to you a contradictory or unintelligiblebeing. I pretend not to the infallibility of inspiration. He is not acreature of fancy. It was not prudent to unfold all the means by whichI gained a knowledge of his actions; but these means, though singularlyfortunate and accurate, could not be unerring and compleat. I haveshewn him to you as he appeared, on different occasions and atsuccessive periods, to me. This is all that you will demand from afaithful biographer.
If you were not deeply interested in the fate of my friend, yet myundertaking will not be useless, inasmuch as it will introduce you toscenes to which you have been hitherto a stranger. The modes of life,the influence of public events upon the character and happiness ofindividuals in America, are new to you. The distinctions of birth, theartificial degrees of esteem or contempt which connect themselves withdifferent professions and ranks in your native country, are but littleknown among us. Society and manners constitute your favorite study, andI am willing to believe, that my relation will supply you withknowledge, on these heads, not to be otherwise obtained. If thesedetails be, in that respect, unsatisfactory, all that I can add, is, mycounsel to go and examine for yourself.
S. C.
Stephen Dudley was a native of New-York. He was educated to theprofession of a painter. His father's trade was that or an apothecary.But this son, manifesting an attachment to the pencil, he was resolvedthat it should be gratified. For this end Stephen was sent at an earlyage to Europe, and not only enjoyed the instructions of Fuzeli andBartolozzi, but spent a considerable period in Italy, in studying theAugustan and Medicean monuments. It was intended that he shouldpractise his art in his native city, but the young man, thoughreconciled to this scheme by deference to paternal authority, and by asense of its propriety, was willing, as long as possible to postponeit. The liberality of his father relieved him from all pecuniary cares.His whole time was devoted to the improvement of his skill in hisfavorite art, and the enriching of his mind with every valuableaccomplishment. He was endowed with a comprehensive genius andindefatigable industry. His progress was proportionably rapid, and hepassed his time without much regard to futurity, being too wellsatisfied with the present to anticipate a change. A change however wasunavoidable, and he was obliged at length to pay a reluctant obedienceto his father's repeated summons. The death of his wife had renderedhis society still more necessary to the old gentleman.
He married before his return. The woman whom he had selected was anunportioned orphan, and was recommended merely by her moral qualities.These, however, were eminent, and secured to her, till the end of herlife, the affection of her husband. Though painting was capable offully gratifying his taste as matter of amusement, he quickly foundthat, in his new situation it would not answer the ends of aprofession. His father supported himself by the profits of his shop,but with all his industry he could do no more than procure asubsistence for himself and his son.
Till his father's death young Dudley attached himself to painting.His gains were slender but he loved the art, and his father'sprofession rendered his own exertions in a great degree superfluous.The death of the elder Dudley introduced an important change in hissituation. It thenceforth became necessary to strike into some newpath, to deny himself the indulgence of his inclinations, and regulatehis future exertions by a view to nothing but gain. There was littleroom for choice. His habits had disqualified him for mechanicalemployments. He could not stoop to the imaginary indignity whichattended them, nor spare the time necessary to obtain the requisitedegree of skill. His father died in possession of some stock, and asufficier. portion of credit to supply its annual decays. He lived atwhat they call a good stand, and enjoyed a certain quantity ofpermanent custom. The knowledge that was required was as easilyobtained as the elements of any other profession, and was not whollyunallied to the pursuits in which he had sometimes engaged. Hence hecould not hesitate long in forming his resolution, but assumed themanagement of his father's concerns with a cheerful and determinedspirit.
The knowledge of his business was acquired in no long time. He wasstimulated to the acquisition by a sense of duty, he was inured tohabits of industry, and there were few things capable to resist astrenuous exertion of his faculties. Knowledge of whatever kindafforded a compensation to labour, but the task being finished, thatwhich remained, which, in ordinary apprehensions would have beenesteemed an easy and smooth path, was to him insupportably disgustful.The drudgery of a shop, where all the faculties were at a stand, andone day was an unvaried repetition of the foregoing, was tooincongenial to his disposition not to be a source of discontent. Thiswas an evil which it was the tendency of time to increase rather thandiminish. The longer he endured it the less tolerable it became. Hecould not forbear comparing his present situation with his former, andderiving from the contrast perpetual food for melancholy.
The indulgence of his father had contributed to instill into himprejudices, in consequence of which a certain species of disgrace wasannexed to every employment of which the only purpose was gain. Hispresent situation not only precluded all those pursuits which exalt andharmonize the feelings, but was detested by him as somethinghumiliating and ignominious. His wife was of a pliant temper, and hercondition less influenced by this change than that of her husband. Shewas qualified to be his comforter, but instead of dispelling his gloomby judicious arguments, or a seasonable example of vivacity, she caughtthe infection that preyed upon his mind and augmented his anxieties bypartaking in them.
By enlarging in some degree, the foundation on which his father hadbuilt, he had provided the means of a future secession, and mightconsole himself with the prospect of enjoying his darling case at someperiod of his life. This period was necessarily too remote for hiswishes, and had not certain occurrences taken place, by which he wasflattered with the immediate possession of ease, it is far from beingcertain that he would not have fallen a victim to his growingdisquietudes.
He was one morning engaged behind his counter as usual, when a youthcame into his shop, and, in terms that bespoke the union offearlessness and frankness, enquired whether he could be engaged as anapprentice. A proposal of this kind could not be suddenly rejected oradopted. He stood in need of assistance, the youth was manly andblooming, and exhibited a modest and ingenuous aspect. It was possiblethat he was, in every respect, qualified for the post for which heapplied, but it was previously necessary to ascertain thesequalifications. For this end he requested the youth to call at hishouse in the evening, when he should be at leisure to converse with himand furnished him with suitable directions.
The youth came according to appointment. On being questioned as tohis birth-place and origin, he stated that he was a native ofWakefield, in Yorkshire; that his family were honest, and his educationnot mean; that he was the eldest of many children, and having attainedan age at which he conceived it his duty to provide for himself, hehad, with the concurrence of his friends, come to America, in search ofthe means of independant subsistence; that he had just arrived in aship which he named, and, his scanty stock of money being likely to bespeedily consumed, this had been the first effort he had made toprocure employment.
His tale was circumstantial and consistent, and his veracityappeared liable to no doubt. He was master of his book and his pen, andhad acquired more than the rudiments of Latin. Mr. Dudley did notrequire much time to deliberate. In a few days the youth wasestablished as a member of his family, and as a coadjutor in his shop,nothing but food, clothing, and lodging being stipulated as the rewardof his services.
The young man improved daily in the good opinion of his master. Hisapprehension was quick, his sobriety invariable, and his applicationincessant. Tho' by no means presumptuous or arrogant, he was notwanting in a suitable degree of self-confidence. All his propensitiesappeared to concentre in his occupation and the promotion of hismaster's interest, from which he was drawn aside by no allurements ofsensual or intellectual pleasure. In a short time he was able torelieve his master of most of the toils of his profession, and Mr.Dudley a thousand times congratulated himself on possessing a servantequally qualified by his talents and his probity. He gradually remittedhis attention to his own concerns, and placed more absolute reliance onthe fidelity of his dependant.
Young Craig, that was the name of the youth, maintained a punctualcorrespondence with his family, and confided to his patron, not onlycopies of all the letters which he himself wrote, but those which, fromtime to time, he received. He had several correspondents, but the chiefof those were his mother and his eldest sister. The sentimentscontained in their letters breathed the most appropriate simplicity andtenderness, and flowed with the nicest propriety, from the differentrelationships of mother and sister. The style and even the penmanshipwere distinct and characteristical.
One of the first of these epistles, was written by the mother to Mr.Dudley, on being informed by her son of his present engagement. It wasdictated by that concern for the welfare of her child befitting thematernal character. Gratitude, for the ready acceptance of the youth'sservices, and for the benignity of his deportment towards him, a justrepresentation of which had been received by her from the boy himself,was expressed with no inconsiderable elegance; as well as her earnestwishes that Mr. Dudley should extend to him not only the indulgence,but the moral superintendance of a parent.
To this Mr. Dudley conceived it incumbent upon him to return aconsenting answer, and letters were in this manner occasionallyinterchanged between them.
Things remained in this situation for three years, during whichperiod every day enhanced the reputation of Craig, for stability andintegrity. A sort of provisional engagement had been made between theparents, unattended however by any legal or formal act, that thingsshould remain on their present footing for three years. When thisperiod terminated, it seemed as if a new engagement had becomenecessary. Craig expressed the utmost willingness to renew the formercontract, but his master began to think that the services of his pupilmerited a higher recompence. He ascribed the prosperity that hadhitherto attended him, to the disinterested exertions of hisapprentice. His social and literary gratifications had been increasedby the increase of his leisure. These were capable of being still moreenlarged. He had not yet acquired what he deemed a sufficiency, andcould not therefore wholly relieve himself from the turmoils andhumiliation of a professional life. He concluded that he should at onceconsult his own interest and perform no more than an act of justice toa faithful servant, by making Craig his partner, and allowing him ashare of the profits, on condition of his discharging all the duties ofthe trade.
When this scheme was proposed to Craig, he professed unboundedgratitude, considered all that he had done as amply rewarded by thepleasure of performance, and as being nothing more than was prescribedby his duty. He promised that this change in his situation should haveno other effect, than to furnish new incitements to diligence andfidelity, in the promotion of an interest, which would then become in astill higher degree than formerly, a common one. Mr. Dudleycommunicated his intention to Craig's mother, who, in addition to manygrateful acknowledgements, stated that a kinsman of her son, hadenabled him, in case of entering into partnership, to add a small sumto the common stock, and that for this sum, Craig was authorized todraw upon a London banker.
The proposed arrangement was speedily effected. Craig was chargedwith the management of all affairs, and Mr. Dudley retired to theenjoyment of still greater leisure. Two years elapsed and nothingoccurred to interrupt the harmony that subsisted between the partners.Mr. Dudley's condition might be esteemed prosperous. His wealth wasconstantly accumulating. He had nearly attained all that he wished, andhis wishes still aimed at nothing less than splendid opulence. He hadannually increased the permanent sources of his revenue. His daughterwas the only survivor of many children, who perished in their infancy,before habit and maturity bad rendered the parental tie difficult tobreak. This daughter had already exhibited proofs of a mind susceptibleof high improvement, and the loveliness of her person promised to keeppace with her mental acquisitions. He charged himself with the care ofher education, and found no weariness or satiety in this task thatmight not be amply relieved by the recreations of science andliterature. He flattered himself that his career, which had hithertobeen exempt from any considerable impediment, would terminate intranquility. Few men might, with more propriety, have discarded allapprehensions respecting futurity.
Craig had several sisters and one brother younger than himself. Mr.Dudley desirous of promoting the happiness of this family, proposed tosend for this brother, and have him educated to his own profession,insinuating to his partner that at the time when the boy should havegained sufficient stability and knowledge, he himself might be disposedto relinquish the profession altogether, on terms particularlyadvantageous to the two brothers who might thenceforth conduct theirbusiness jointly. Craig had been eloquent in praise of this lad, andhis testimony had, from time to time, been confirmed by that of hismother and sister. He had often expressed his wishes for the prosperityof the lad, and when his mother had expressed her doubts as to the bestmethod of disposing of him, modestly requested Mr. Dudley's advice onthis head. The proposal therefore, might be supposed to be particularlyacceptable, and yet Craig expressed reluctance to concur with it. Thisreluctance was accompanied with certain tokens which sufficientlyshewed whence it arose. Craig appeared unwilling to increase thoseobligations under which he already laboured. His sense of gratitude wastoo acute to allow him to heighten it by the reception of newbenefits.
It might be imagined that this objection would be easily removed;but the obstinacy of Craig's opposition was invincible. Mr. Dudleycould not relinquish a scheme to which no stronger objection could bemade. And, since his partner could not be prevailed upon to make thisproposal to the friends of the lad, he was determined to do it himself.He maintained an intercourse by letters with several of those friendswhich he formed in his youth. One of them usually resided in London.From him he received about this time, a letter, in which, among otherinformation, the writer mentioned his intention of setting out on atour through Yorkshire and the Scottish highlands. Mr. Dudley thoughtthis a suitable opportunity for executing his design in favor of youngCraig. He entertained no doubts about the worth and condition of thisfamily, but was still desirous of obtaining some information on thishead from one who would pass through this town where they resided, whowould examine with his own eyes, and on whose discernment and integrityhe could place an implicit reliance. He concealed this intention fromhis partner, and entrusted his letter to a friend who was justembarking for Europe. In due season he received an answer, confirming,in all respects, Craig's representations, but informing him that thelad had been lately disposed of in a way not equally advantageous withthat which Mr. Dudley had proposed, but such as would not admit ofchange.
If doubts could possibly be entertained respecting the character andviews of Craig, this evidence would have dispelled them: But planshowever skilfully contrived, if founded on imposture, cannot fail ofbeing sometimes detected. Craig had occasion to be absent from the cityfor some weeks. Meanwhile a letter had been left at his lodgings by onewho merely enquired if that were the dwelling of Mr. Dudley, and beinganswered by the servant in the affirmative, left the letter withoutfurther parley. It was superscribed with a name unknown to any of thefamily, and in a hand which its badness rendered almost illegible. Theservant placed it in a situation to be seen by his master.
Mr. Dudley allowed it to remain unopened for a considerable time. Atlength, deeming it excusable to discover, by any means, the person towhom it was addressed, he ventured to unseal it. It was dated atPortsmouth in New-Hampshire. The signature was Mary Mansfield. It wasaddressed to her son, and was a curious specimen of illiterateness.Mary herself was unable to write, as she reminds her son, and hadtherefore procured the assistance of Mrs. Dewitt, for whose family shewashed. The amanuensis was but little superior in the arts ofpenmanship to her principal. The contents of the epistle were made outwith some difficulty. This was the substance of it.
Mary reproaches her son for deserting her, and letting five yearspass away without allowing her to hear from him. She informed him ofher distresses as they flowed from sickness and poverty, and wereaggravated by the loss of her son who was so handsome and promising alad. She related her marriage with Zekel Hackney, who first brought hertidings of her boy. He was master, it seems, of a fishing smack, andvoyaged sometimes to New-York. In one of his visits to this city, hemet a mighty spry young man, on whom he thought he recognized hiswife's son. He had traced him to the house of Mr. Dudley, and onenquiry, discovered that the lad resided here. On his return hecommunicated the tidings to his spouse, who had now written to reproachhim for his neglect of his poor old mother, and to intreat hisassistance to relieve her from the necessity of drudging for herlivelihood.
This letter was capable of an obvious construction. It was, nodoubt, founded in mistake, though, it was to be acknowledged, that themistake was singular. Such was the conclusion immediately formed by Mr.Dudley. He quietly replaced the letter on the mantlepiece, where it hadbefore stood, and dismissed the affair from his thoughts.
Next day Craig returned from his journey. Mr. Dudley was employed inexamining some papers in a desk that stood behind the door, in theapartment in which the letter was placed. There was no other person inthe room when Craig entered it. He did not perceive Mr. Dudley, who wasscreened from observation, by his silence and by an open door. As soonas he entered, Mr. Dudley looked at him, and made no haste to speak.The letter whose superscription was turned towards him, immediatelyattracted Craig's attention. He seized it with some degree ofeagerness, and observing the broken seal, thrust it hastily into hispocket, muttering, at the same time, in a tone, betokening a mixture ofconsternation and anger, "Damn it."--He immediately left the room,still uninformed of the presence of Mr. Dudley, who began to muse, withsome earnestness, on what he had seen. Soon after he left this room andwent into another, in which the family usually sat. In about twentyminutes, Craig made his appearance with his usual freedom andplausibility. Complimentary and customary topics were discussed. Mrs.Dudley and her daughter were likewise present. The uneasiness which theincident just mentioned had occasioned in the mind of Mr. Dudley, wasat first dispelled by the disembarrassed behaviour of his partner, butnew matter of suspicion was speedily afforded him. He observed that hispartner spoke of his present entrance as of the first since hisarrival, and that when the lady mentioned that he had been the subjectof a curious mistake, a letter being directed to him by a strange name,and left there during his absence, he pretended total ignorance of thecircumstance. The young lady was immediately directed by her mother tobring the letter which lay, she said, on the mantle-tree in the nextroom.
During this scene Mr. Dudley was silent. He anticipated thedisappointment of the messenger, believing the letter to have beenremoved. What then was his surprise when the messenger returned bearingthe letter in her hand! Craig examined and read it and commented, withgreat mirth, on the contents, acting, all the while, as if he had neverseen it before. These appearances were not qualified to quietsuspicion. The more Dudley brooded over them, the more dissatisfied hebecame. He, however, concealed his thoughts as well from Craig himselfas his family, impatiently waiting for some new occurrence to arise bywhich he might square his future proceedings.
During Craig's absence, Mrs. Dudley had thought this a properoccasion for cleaning his apartment. The furniture, and among the rest,a large chest strongly fastened, was removed into an adjoining roomwhich was otherwise unoccupied, and which was usually kept locked. Whenthe cleansing was finished, the furniture was replaced, except thistrunk, which its bulk, the indolence of the servant, and her opinion ofits uselessness, occasioned her to leave in the closet.
About a week after this, on a Saturday evening, Craig invited to supwith him a friend who was to embark, on the ensuing Monday, forJamaica. During supper, at which the family were present, the discourseturned on the voyage on which the guest was about to enter. In thecourse of talk, the stranger expressed how much he stood in need of astrong and commodious chest, in which he might safely deposit hiscloaths and papers. Not being apprized of the early departure of thevessel, he had deferred till it was too late, applying to anartizan.
Craig desired him to set himself at rest on that head, for that hehad, in his possession, just such a trunk as he described. It was of nouse to him, being long filled with nothing better than refuse andlumber, and that, if he would, he might send for it the next morning.He turned to Mrs. Dudley and observed, that the trunk to which healluded was in her possession, and he would thank her to direct itsremoval into his own apartment, that he might empty it of its presentcontents, and prepare it for the service of his friend. To this shereadily assented.
There was nothing mysterious in this affair, but the mind of Mr.Dudley was pained with doubts. He was now as prone to suspect, as hewas formerly disposed to confidence. This evening he put the key of thecloset in his own pocket. When enquired for the next day, it was, ofcourse, missing. It could not be found on the most diligent search. Theoccasion was not of such moment as to justify breaking the door. Mr.Dudley imagined that he saw, in Craig, more uneasiness at thisdisappointment, than he was willing to express. There was no remedy.The chest remained where it was, and, next morning, the ship departedon her voyage.
Craig accompanied his friend on board, was prevailed upon to go tosea with him, designing to return with the pilot-boat, but when thepilot was preparing to leave the vessel, such was this man'scomplaisance to the wishes of his friend, that he concluded to performthe remainder of the voyage in his company. The consequences are easilyseen. Craig had gone with a resolution of never returning. The unhappyDudley was left to deplore the total ruin of his fortune which hadfallen a prey to the arts of a subtle imposter.
The chest was opened, and the part which Craig had been playing forsome years, with so much success, was perfectly explained. It appearedthat the sum which Craig had contributed to the common stock, whenfirst admitted into partnership, had been previously pursoined from thedaily receipts of his shop, of which an exact register was kept. Craighad been so indiscrete as to preserve this accusing record, and it wasdiscovered in this depository: He was the son of Mary Mansfield and anative of Portsmouth. The history of the Wakefield family, specious andcomplicated as it was, was entirely fictitious. The letters had beenforged, and the correspondence supported by his own dexterity. Here wasfound the letter which Mr. Dudley had written to his friend requestinghim to make certain enquiries at Wakefield, and which he imagined thathe had delivered with his own hands to a trusty bearer. Here was theoriginal draught of the answer he received. The manner in which thisstratagem had been accomplished came gradually to light. The letterwhich was written to the Yorkshire traveller had been purloined, andanother, with a similar superscription, in which the hand of Dudley wasexactly imitated, and containing only brief and general remarks, hadbeen placed in its stead. Craig must have suspected its contents, andby this suspicion have been incited to the theft. The answer which theEnglishman had really written, and which sufficiently corresponded withthe forged letter, had been intercepted by Craig, and furnished him amodel from which he might construct an answer adapted to his ownpurposes.
This imposture had not been sustained for a trivial purpose. He hadembezzled a large share of the stock, and had employed the credit ofthe house to procure extensive remittances to be made to an agent at adistance, by whom the property was effectually secured. Craig had goneto participate these spoils, while the whole estate of Mr. Dudley wasinsufficient to pay the demands that were consequently made uponhim.
It was his lot to fall into the grasp of men, who squared theiractions by no other standard than law, and who esteemed every claim tobe incontestably just, that could plead that sanction. They did notindeed throw him into prison. When they had despoiled him of everyremnant of his property, they deemed themselves entitled to hisgratitude for leaving his person unmolested.
Thus in a moment was this man thrown from the summit of affluence tothe lowest indigence. He had been habituated to independance and ease.This reverse, therefore, was the harder to bear. His present situationwas much worse than at his father's death. Then he was sanguine withyouth and glowing with health. He possessed a fund on which he couldcommence his operations. Materials were at hand, and nothing was wantedbut skill to use them. Now he had advanced in life. His frame was notexempt from infirmity. He had so long reposed on the bosom of opulenceand enjoyed the respect attendant on wealth, that he felt himselftotally incapacitated for a new station. His misfortune had not beenforeseen. It was imbittered by the consciousness of his own imprudence,and by recollecting that the serpent which had stung him, was nurturedin his own bosom.
It was not merely frugal fare and an humble dwelling to which he wascondemned. The evils to be dreaded were beggary and contempt. Luxuryand leisure were not merely denied him. He must bend all his efforts toprocure cloathing and food, to preserve his family from nakedness andfamine. His spirit would not brook dependance. To live upon charity, orto take advantage of the compassion of his friends, was a destiny farworse than any other. To this therefore he would not consent. Howeverirksome and painful it might prove, he determined to procure his breadby the labour of his hands.
But to what scene or kind of employment should he betake himself? Hecould not endure to exhibit this reverse of fortune on the same theatrewhich had witnessed his prosperity. One of his first measures was toremove from New-York to Philadelphia. How should he employ himself inhis new abode? Painting, the art in which he was expert, would notafford him the means of subsistence. Tho' no despicable musician, hedid not esteem himself qualified to be a teacher of this art. Thisprofession, besides, was treated by his new neighbours, with general,though unmerited contempt. There were few things on which he pridedhimself more than on the facilities and elegances of his penmanship. Hewas besides well acquainted with arithmetic and accompting. Heconcluded therefore, to offer his services as a writer in a publicoffice. This employment demanded little bodily exertion. He had spentmuch of his time at the book and the desk: his new occupation,therefore, was further recommended by its resemblance to his ancientmodes of life.
The first situation of this kind, for which he applied, he obtained.The duties were constant, but not otherwise toilsome or arduons. Theemoluments were slender, but by contracting, within limits as narrow aspossible, his expenses, they could be made subservient to the merepurposes of subsistence. He hired a small house in the suburbs of thecity. It consisted of a room above and below, and a kitchen. His wife,daughter and one girl, composed its inhabitants.
As long as his mind was occupied in projecting and executing thesearrangements, it was diverted from uneasy contemplations. When his lifebecame uniform, and day followed day in monotonous succession, and thenovelty of his employment had disappeared, his cheerfulness beganlikewise to fade, and was succeeded by unconquerable melancholy. Hispresent condition was in every respect the contrast of his former. Hisservitude was intolerable. He was associated with sordid hirelings,gross and uneducated, who treated his age with rude familiarity, andinsulted his ears with ribaldry and scurril jests. He was subject tocommand, and had his portion of daily drudgery allotted to him, to beperformed for a pittance no more than would buy the bread which hedaily consumed. The task assigned him was technical and formal. He wasperpetually encumbered with the rubbish of law, and waded withlaborious steps through its endless tautologies, its impertinentcircuities, its lying assertions, and hateful artifices. Nothingoccurred to relieve or diversify the scene. It was one tedious round ofscrawling and jargon; a tissue made up of the shreds and remnants ofbarbarous antiquity, polluted with the rust of ages, and patched by thestupidity of modern workmen, into new deformity.
When the day's task was finished, jaded spirits, and a bodyenfeebled by reluctant application, were but little adapted to domesticenjoyments. These indeed were incompatible with a temper like his, towhom the privation of the comforts that attended his former condition,was equivalent to the loss of life. These privations were still morepainful to his wife, and her death added one more calamity to thoseunder which he already groaned. He had always loved her with thetenderest affection, and he justly regarded this evil as surpassing allhis former woes.
But his destiny seemed never weary of persecuting him. It was notenough that he should fall a victim to the most atrocious arts, that heshould wear out his days in solitude and drudgery, that he should feelnot only the personal restraints and hardships attendant uponindigence, but the keener pangs that result from negligence andcontumely. He was imperfectly recovered from the shock occasioned bythe death of his wife, when his sight was invaded by a cataract. Itsprogress was rapid, and terminated in total blindness.
He was now disabled from pursuing his usual occupation. He was shutout from the light of heaven, and debarred of every human comfort.Condemned to eternal dark, and worse than the helplessness of infancy,he was dependant for the meanest offices on the kindness of others, andhe who had formerly abounded in the gifts of fortune, thought only ofending his days in a gaol or an alms-house.
His situation however was alleviated by one circumstance. He had adaughter whom I have formerly mentioned, as the only survivor of manychildren. She was sixteen years of age when the storm of adversity fellupon her father's house. It may be thought that one educated as she hadbeen, in the gratification of all her wishes, and at an age of timidityand inexperience, would have been less fitted than her father forencountering misfortune, and yet when the task of comforter fell uponher, her strength was not found wanting. Her fortitude was immediatelyput to the test. This reverse did not only affect her obliquely andthrough the medium of her family, but directly and in one way usuallyvery distressful to female feelings.
Her fortune and character had attracted many admirers. One of themhad some reason to flatter himself with success. Miss Dudley's notionshad little in common with those around her. She had learned to squareher conduct, in a considerable degree, not by the hasty impulses ofinclination, but by the dictates of truth. She yielded nothing tocaprice or passion. Not that she was perfectly exempt from intervals ofweakness, or from the necessity of painful struggles, but theseintervals were transient, and these struggles always successful. Shewas no stranger to the pleadings of love from the lips of others, andin her own bosom, but its tumults were brief, and speedily gave placeto quiet thoughts and steadfast purposes.
She had listened to the solicitations of one, not unworthy inhimself, and amply recommended by the circumstances of family andfortune. He was young and therefore impetuous. Of the good that hesought, he was not willing to delay the acquisition for a moment. Shehad been taught a very different lesson. Marriage included vows ofirrevocable affection and obedience. It was a contract to endure forlife. To form this connection in extreme youth, before time hadunfolded and modelled the characters of the parties, was, in heropinion, a proof of pernicious and opprobrious temerity. Not toperceive the propriety of delay in this case, or to be regardless ofthe motives that would enjoin upon us a deliberate procedure, furnishedan unanswerable objection to any man's pretensions. She was sensible,however, that this, like other mistakes, was curable. If her argumentsfailed to remove it, time, it was likely, would effect this purpose. Ifshe rejected a matrimonial proposal for the present, it was for reasonsthat might not preclude her future acceptance of it.
Her scruples, in the present case, did not relate to the temper orperson, or understanding of her lover, but to his age, to theimperfectness of their acquaintance, and to the want of that permanenceof character, which can flow only from the progress of time andknowledge. These objections, which so rarely exist, were conclusivewith her. There was no danger of her relinquishing them in compliancewith the remonstrances of parents and the solicitations of her lover,though the one and the other were urged with all the force of authorityand insinuation. The prescriptions of duty were too clear to allow herto hesitate and waver, but the consciousness of rectitude could notsecure her from temporary vexations.
Her parents were blemished with some of the frailties of thatcharacter. They held themselves entitled to prescribe in this article,but they forbore to exert their power. They condescended to persuade,but it was manifest, that they regarded their own conduct as arelaxation of right, and had not the lover's importunities suddenlyceased, it is not possible to tell how far the happiness of Miss Dudleymight have been endangered. The misfortunes of her father were nosooner publicly known, than the youth forbore his visits, and embarkedon a voyage which he had long projected, but which had been hithertodelayed by a superior regard to the interests of his passion.
It must be allowed that the lady had not foreseen this event. Shehad exercised her judgment upon his character, and had not beendeceived. Before this desertion, had it been clearly stated to herapprehension, she would have readily admitted it to be probable. Sheknew the fascmation of wealth, and the delusiveness of self-confidence.She was superior to the folly of supposing him exempt from sinisterinfluences, and deaf to the whispers of ambition, and yet the manner inwhich she was affected by this event, convinced her that her heart hada larger share than her reason in dictating her expectations.
Yet it must not be supposed that she suffered any very acutedistress on this account. She was grieved less for her own sake thanhis. She had no design of entering into marriage, in less than sevenyears from this period. Not a single hope, relative to her owncondition, had been frustrated. She had only been mistaken in herfavourable conceptions of another. He had exhibited less constancy andvirtue than her heart had taught her to expect.
With those opinions, she could devote herself, with a single heart,to the alleviation of her parent's sorrows. This change in hercondition she treated lightly, and retained her cheerfulnessunimpaired. This happened because, in a rational estimate, and so faras it affected herself, the misfortune was slight, and because herdejection would only tend to augment the disconsolateness of herparents, while, on the other hand, her serenity was calculated toinfuse the same confidence into them. She indulged herself in no fitsof exclamation or moodiness. She listened in silence to theirinvectives and laments, and seized every opportunity that offered toinspire them with courage, to set before them the good as well as ill,to which they were reserved, to suggest expedients for improving theircondition, and to soften the asperitíes of his new mode of life,to her father, by every species of blandishment and tenderness.
She refused no personal exertion to the common benefit. She incitedher father to diligence, as well by her example, as by her exortations;suggested plans, and superintended or assisted in the execution ofthem. The infirmities of sex and age vanished before the motives tocourage and activity flowing from her new situation. When settled inhis new abode, and profession, she began to deliberate what conduct wasincumbent on herself, how she might participate with her father, theburthen of the common maintainance, and blunt the edge of this calamityby the resources of a powerful and cultivated mind.
In the first place, she disposed of every superfluous garb andtrinket. She reduced her wardrobe to the plainest and cheapestestablishment. By this means alone, she supplied her father'snecessities with a considerable sum. Her music and even her books werenot spared, not from the slight esteem in which these were held by her,but because she was thenceforth to become an economist of time as wellas of money, because musical instruments are not necessary to thepractice of this art in its highest perfection, and because, books,when she should procure leisure to read, or money to purchase them,might be obtained in a cheaper and more commodious form, than thosecostly and splendid volumes, with which her father's munificence hadformerly supplied her.
To make her expences as limited as possible was her next care. Forthis end she assumed the province of cook, the washing of house andcloaths, and the cleansing of furniture. Their house was small, thefamily consisted of no more than four persons, and all formality andexpensiveness were studiously discarded, but her strength was unequalto unavoidable tasks. A vigorous constitution could not supply theplace of laborious habits, and this part of her plan must have beenchanged for one less frugal. The aid of a servant must have been hired,if it had not been furnished by gratitude.
Some years before this misfortune, her mother had taken under herprotection a girl, the daughter of a poor woman, who subsisted bylabour, and who dying, left this child without friend or protector.This girl possessed no very improveable capacity, and therefore, couldnot benefit by the benevolent exertions of her young mistress as muchas the latter desired, but her temper was artless and affectionate, andshe attached herself to Constance with the most entire devotion. Inthis change of fortune she would not consent to be separated, and MissDudley, influenced by her affection to her Lucy, and reflecting that onthe whole it was most to her advantage to share with her, at once, herkindness and her poverty, retained her as her companion. With this girlshe shared the domestic duties, scrupling not to divide with her themeanest and most rugged, as well as the lightest offices.
This was not all. She, in the next place, considered whether herablity extended no farther than to save. Could she not by theemployment of her bands increase the income as well as diminish theexpense? Why should she be precluded from all lucrative occupation? Shesoon came to a resolution. She was mistress of her needle, and thisskill she conceived herself bound to employ for her ownsubsistence.
Cloathing is one of the necessaries of human existence. The art ofthe taylor is scarcely of less use than that of the tiller of theground. There are few the gains of which are better merited, and lessinjurious to the principles of human society. She resolved therefore tobecome a workwoman, and to employ in this way, the leisure shepossessed from household avocations. To this scheme she was obliged toreconcile not only herself but her parents. The conquest of theirprejudices was no easy task, but her patience and skill finallysucceeded, and she procured needle work in sufficient quantity toenable her to enhance in no trivial degree, the common fund.
It is one thing barely to comply with the urgencies of the case, andto do that which, in necessitous circumstances is best. But to conformwith grace and cheerfulness, to yield no place to fruitlessrecriminations and repinings, to contract the evils into as small acompass as possible, and extract from our condition all possible good,is a task of a different kind.
Mr. Dudley's situation required from him frugality and diligence. Hewas regular and unintermitted in his application to his pen. He wasfrugal. His slender income was administered agreeably to the maxims ofhis daughter: but he was unhappy. He experienced in its full extent thebitterness of disappointment.
He gave himself up for the most part to a listless melancholy.Sometimes his impaticnce would produce effects less excusable; andconjure up an accusing and irascible spirit. His wife and even hisdaughter he would make the objects of peevish and absurd reproaches.These were moments when her heart drooped indeed, and her tears couldnot be restrained from flowing. These fits were transitory and rare,and when they had passed, the father seldom failed to mingle tokens ofcontrition and repentance with the tears of his daughter. Her argumentsand soothings were seldom disappointed of success. Her mother'sdisposition was soft and pliant, but she could not accommodate herselfto the necessity of her husband's affairs. She was obliged to endurethe want of some indulgences, but she reserved to herself the libertyof complaining, and to subdue this spirit in her was found utterlyimpracticable. She died a victim to discontent.
This event deepened the gloom that shrouded the soul of her father,and rendered the task of consolation still more difficult. She did notdespair. Her sweetness and patience was invincible by any thing thathad already happened, but her fortitude did not exceed the standard ofhuman nature. Evils now began to menace her, to which it is likely shewould have yielded, had not their approach been intercepted by an evilof a different kind.
The pressure of grief is sometimes such as to prompt us to seek arefuge in voluntary death. We must lay aside the burthen which wecannot sustain. If thought degenerate into a vehicle of pain, whatremains but to destroy that vehicle? For this end, death is theobvious, but not the only, or morally speaking, the worst means. Thereis one method of obtaining the bliss of forgetfulness, in comparisonwith which suicide is innocent.
The strongest mind is swayed by circumstances. There is no firmnessof integrity, perhaps, able to repel every species of temptation, whichis produced by the present constitution of human affairs, and yettemptation is successful, chiefly by virtue of its gradual andinvisible approaches. We rush into danger, because we are not aware ofits existence, and have not therefore provided the means of safety, andthe dæmon that seizes us is hourly reinforced by habit. Ouropposition grows fainter in proportion as our adversary acquires newstrength, and the man becomes enslaved by the most sordid vices, whosefall would, at a former period, have been deemed impossible, or whowould have been imagined liable to any species of depravity, more thanto this.
Mr. Dudley's education had entailed upon him many errors, yet whowould have supposed it possible for him to be enslaved by a depravedappetite; to be enamoured of low debauchery, and to grasp at thehappiness that intoxication had to bestow? This was a mournful periodin Constantia's history. My feelings will not suffer me to dwell uponit. I cannot describe the manner in which she was affected by the firstsymptoms of this depravity, the struggles which she made to counteractthis dreadful infatuation, and the grief which she experienced from therepeated miscarriage of her efforts. I will not detail her variousexpedients for this end, the appeals which she made to hisunderstanding, to his sense of honor and dread of infamy, to thegratitude to which she was entitled, and to the injunctions of parentalduty. I will not detail his fits of remorse, his fruitless penitence,and continual relapses, nor depict the heart-breaking scenes of uproarand violence, and foul disgrace that accompanied his paroxysms ofdrunkenness.
The only intellectual amusement which this lady allowed herself waswriting. She enjoyed one distant friend, with whom she maintained anuninterrupted correspondence, and to whom she confided a circumstantialand copious relation of all these particulars. That friend is thewriter of these memoirs. It is not impossible but that these lettersmay be communicated to the world, at some future period. The picturewhich they exhibit is hourly exemplified and realized, though, in themany-coloured scenes of human life, none surpasses it in disastrousnessand horror. My eyes almost wept themselves dry over this part of hertale.
In this state of things Mr. Dudley's blindness might justly beaccounted, even in its immediate effects, a fortunate event. Itdissolved the spell, by which he was bound, and which, it is probable,would never have been otherwise broken. It restored him to himself andshewed him, with a distinctness which made him shudder, the gulf towhich he was hastening. But nothing can compensate to the sufferer theevils of blindness. It was the business of Constantia's life toalleviate those sufferings, to cherish and console her father, and torescue him, by the labour of her hands from dependance on publiccharity. For this end, her industry and solicitude were never at rest.She was able, by that industry, to provide him and herself withnecessaries. Their portion was scanty, and, if it sometimes exceededthe standard of their wants, not less frequently fell short of it. Forall her toils and disquietudes she esteemed herself fully compensatedby the smiles of her father. He indeed could seldom be prompted tosmile, or to suppress the dietates of that despair which flowed fromhis sense of this new calamity, and the aggravations of hardship whichhis recent insobrieties had occasioned to his daughter.
She purchased what books her scanty stock would allow, and borrowedothers. These she read to him when her engagements would permit. Atother times she was accustomed to solace herself with her own music.The lute which her father had purchased in Italy, and which had beendisposed of among the rest of his effects, at public sale, had beengratuitously restored to him by the purchaser, on condition of hisretaining it in his possession. His blindness and inoccupation nowbroke the long silence to which this instrument had been condemned, andafforded an accompaniment to the young lady's voice.
Her chief employment was conversation. She resorted to this as thebest means of breaking the monotony of the scene; but this purpose wasnot only accomplished, but other benefits of the highest value accruedfrom it. The habits of a painter eminently tended to vivify and makeexact her father's conceptions and delineations of visible objects. Thesphere of his youthful observation comprised more ingredients of thepicturesque, than any other sphere. The most precious materials of themoral history of mankind, are derived from the revolutions of Italy.Italian features and landscape, constitute the chosen field of theartist. No one had more carefully explored this field than Mr. Dudley.His time, when abroad, had been divided between residence at Rome, andexcursions to Calabria and Tuscany. Few impressions were effaced fromhis capacious register, and these were now rendered by his eloquence,nearly as conspicuous to his companion as to himself.
She was imbued with an ardent thirst of knowledge, and by theacuteness of her remarks, and the judiciousness of her enquiries,reflected back upon his understanding as much improvement as shereceived. These efforts to render his calamity tolerable, and enure himto the profiting by his own resources, were aided by time, and, whenreconciled by habit to unrespited gloom, he was, sometimes, visited bygleams of cheerfulness, and drew advantageous comparisons between hispresent and former situation. A stillness not unakin to happiness,frequently diffused itself over their winter evenings. Constanceenjoyed, in their full extent, the felicities of health andself-approbation. The genius and eloquence of her father, nourished byperpetual exercise, and undiverted from its purpose by the intrusion ofvisible objects, frequently afforded her a delight in comparison withwhich all other pleasures were mean.
This period of tranquillity was short. Poverty hovered at theirthreshold, and in a state precarious as their's, could not be longexcluded. The lady was more accustomed to anticipate good than evil,but she was not unconscious that the winter, which was hastening, wouldbring it with numerous inconveniences. Wants during that season aremultiplied, while the means of supplying them either fail or arediminished. Fuel is alone, a cause of expense equal to all otherarticles of subsistence. Her dwelling was old, crazy, and full ofavenues to air. It was evident that neither fire nor cloathing would,in an habitation like that, attemper the chilling blasts. Her scantygains were equal to their needs, during summer, but would probably fallshort during the prevalence of cold.
These reflections could not fail sometimes to intrude. She indulgedthem as long as they served merely to suggest expedients and provisionsfor the future, but laboured to call away her attention when theymerely produced anxiety. This she more easily effected, as some monthsof summer were still to come, and her knowledge of the vicissitudes towhich human life is subject, taught her to rely upon the occurrence ofsome fortunate, though unforeseen event.
Accident suggested an expedient of this kind. Passing through analley, in the upper part of the town, her eye was caught by a label onthe door of a small house, signifying that it was to be let. It wassmaller than that she at present occupied, but it had an aspect of muchgreater comfort and neatness. Its situation, near the centre of thecity, in a quiet, cleanly, and well paved alley, was far preferable tothat of her present habitation, in the suburbs, scarcely accessible inwinter for pools and gullies, and in a neighbourhood abounding withindigence and profligacy. She likewise considered that the rent of thismight be less, and that the proprietor of this might have moreforbearance and benignity than she had hitherto met with.
Unconversant as she was with the world, imbued with the timidity ofher sex and her youth, many enterprizes were arduous to her, whichwould, to age and experience, have been easy. Her reluctances, however,when required by necessity, were overcome, and all the measures whichher situation prescribed, executed with address and dispatch. One,marking her deportment, would have perceived nothing but dignity andcourage. He would have regarded these as the fruits of habitualindependence and exertion, whereas they were merely the results ofclear perceptions and inflexible resolves.
The proprietor of this mansion was immediately sought out, and abargain, favorable as she could reasonably desire, concluded.Possession was to be taken in a week. For this end carters and draymenwere to be engaged, household implements to be prepared for removal,and negligence and knavery prevented by scrupulous attention. Theduties of superintendence and execution devolved upon her. Her father'sblindness rendered him powerless. His personal case required no smallportion of care. Household and professional functions were not to beomitted. She stood alone in the world. There was none whose services orcounsel she could claim. Tortured by multiplicity of cares, shrinkingfrom exposure to rude eyes, and from contention with refractory andinsolent spirits, and overpowered with fatigue and disgust, she was yetcompelled to retain a cheerful tone in her father's presence, and tostruggle with his regrets and his peevishness.
O my friend! Methinks I now see thee, encountering the sneers andobstinacy of the meanest of mankind, subjecting that frame of thine, soexquisitely delicate, and therefore so feeble, to the vilest drudgery.I see thee, leading thy unhappy father to his new dwelling, andstifling the sign produced by his fruitless repinings and unseasonableseruples--Why was I not partaker of thy cares and labours? Why was Isevered from thee by the ocean, and kept in ignorance of thy state? Iwas not without motives to anxiety, for I was friendless as thou, buthow unlike to thine was my condition! I reposed upon down and tissue,never moved but with obsequious attendance and pompous equipage,painting and music were consolations ever at hand, and my cabinet wasstored with poetry and science. These, indeed, were insufficient toexclude care, and with regard to the past, I have no wish but that Ihad shared with my friend her toilsome and humiliating lot. However anerroneous world might judge, thy life was full of dignity, and thymoments of happiness not few, since happiness is only attendant on theperformance of our duty.
A toilsome and sultry week was terminated by a sabbath of repose.Her new dwelling possessed indisputable advantages over her old. Notthe least of these benefits consisted in the vicinity of people,peaceable and honest, though poor. She was no longer shocked by theclamours of debauchery, and exposed, by her situation, to the danger ofbeing mistaken by the profligate of either sex, for one of their ownclass. It was reasonable to consider this change of abode, asfortunate, and yet, circumstances quickly occurred which suggested avery different conclusion.
She had no intercourse, which necessity did not prescribe, with therest of the world. She screened herself as much as possible fromintercourse with prying and loquacious neighbours. Her father'sinclinations in this respect coincided with her own, though their loveof seclusion was prompted by different motives. Visitants were hated bythe father, because his dignity was hurt by communication with thevulgar. The danghter set too much value upon time willingly to waste itupon trifles and triflers. She had no pride to subdue, and thereforenever escaped from well meant importunity at the expense of politenessand good humour. In her moments of leisure, she betook herself to thepoet and the moralist for relief.
She could not at all times, suppress the consciousness of the evilswhich surrounded and threatened her. She could not but rightly estimatethe absorbing and brutifying nature of that toil to which she wascondemned. Literature had hitherto been regarded as her solace. Sheknew that meditation and converse as well as books and the pen, areinstruments of knowledge, but her musing thoughts were too often fixedupon her own condition. Her father's soaring moods and luminousintervals grew less frequent. Conversation was too rarely abstractedfrom personal considerations, and strayed less often than before intothe wilds of fancy or the mazes of analysis.
These circumstances led her to reflect whether subsistence might notbe obtained by occupations purely intellectual. Instruction was neededby the young of both sexes. Females frequently performed the office ofteachers. Was there no branch of her present knowledge which she mightclaim wages for imparting to others? Was there no art within her reachto acquire, convertible into means of gain? Women are generally limitedto what is sensual and ornamental: Music and painting, and the Italianand French languages, are bounds which they seldom pass. In thesepursuits it is not possible, nor is it expected, that they shouldarrive at the skill of adepts. The education of Constance had beenregulated by the peculiar views of her father, who sought to make her,not alluring and voluptuous, but eloquent and wise. He thereforelimited her studies to Latin and English. Instead of familiarizing herwith the amorous effusions of Petrarcha and Racine, he made herthoroughly conversant with Tacitus and Milton. Instead of making her apractical musician or pencilist, he conducted her to the school ofNewton and Hartley, unveiled to her the mathematical properties oflight and sound, taught her as a metaphysician and anatomist, thestructure and power of the senses, and discussed with her theprinciples and progress of human society.
These accomplishments tended to render her superior to the rest ofwomen, but in no degree qualified her for the post of a femaleinstructor. She saw and lamented her deficiencies, and gradually formedthe resolution of supplying them. Her knowledge of the Latin tongue andof grammatical principles, rendered easy the acquisition of Italian andFrench, these being merely Scions from the Roman stock.
Having had occasion, previous to her change of dwelling, to purchasepaper at a bookseller's, the man had offered her at a very low price, asecond-hand copy of Veneroni's grammar. The offer had been declined,her views at that time being otherwise directed. Now, however, thisincident was remembered, and a resolution instantly formed to purchasethe book. As soon as the light declined, and her daily task at theneedle had drawn to a close, she set out to execute this purpose.Arriving at the house of the book-seller, she perceived that the doorsand windows were closed. Night having not yet arrived, the conjectureeasily occurred, that some one had died in the house. She had alwaysdealt with this man for books and paper, and had always been treatedwith civility. Her heart readily admitted some sympathy with hisdistress, and to remove her doubts, she turned to a person who stood atthe entrance of the next house, and who held a cloth steeped in vinegarto his nostrils. In reply to her question, the stranger said in a toneof the deepest consternation--Mr. Watson do you mean? He is dead: Hedied last night of the yellow fever.
The name of this disease was not absolutely new to her ears. She hadbeen apprized of its rapid and destructive progress in one quarter ofthe city, but, hitherto, it had existed, with regard to her, chiefly inthe form of rumour. She had not realized the nature or probable extentof the evil. She lived at no great distance from the seat of themalady, but her neighbourhood had been hitherto exempt. So whollyunused was she to contemplate pestilence except at a distance, that itsactual existence in the bosom of this city was incredible.
Contagious diseases, she well knew, periodically visited and laidwaste the Greek and Egyptian cities. It constituted no small part ofthat mass of evil, political and physical, by which that portion of theworld has been so long afflicted. That a pest equally malignant hadassailed the metropolis of her own country, a town famous for thesalubrity of its airs and the perfection of its police, had somethingin it so wild and uncouth that she could not reconcile herself to thepossibility of such an event.
The death of Watson, however, filled her mind with awfulreflections. The purpose of her walk was forgotten amidst moremomentous considerations. She bent her steps pensively homeward. Shehad now leisure to remark the symptoms of terror with which all ranksappeared to have been seized. The streets were as much frequented asever, but there were few passengers whose countenances did not betrayalarm, and who did not employ the imaginary antidote to infection,vinegar.
Having reached home, she quickly discovered in her father, anunusual solemnity and thoughtfulness. He had no power to conceal hisemotions from his daughter, when her efforts to discover them wereearnestly exerted. She learned that, during her absence he had beenvisited by his next neighbour, a thrifty, sober and well meaning, butignorant and meddling person, by name Whiston. This person, beingequally inquisitive into other men's affairs, and communicative of hisown, was always an unwelcome visitant. On this occasion, he had come todisburthen on Mr. Dudley his fears of disease and death. His tale ofthe origin and progress of the epidemic, of the number and suddennessof recent deaths was delivered with endless prolixity. With thisaccount he mingled prognostics of the future, counselled Mr. Dudley tofly from the scene of danger, and stated his own schemes andresolutions. After having thoroughly affrighted and wearied hiscompanion he took his leave.
Constance endeavoured to remove the impression which had been thusneedlessly made. She urged her doubts as to the truth of Whiston'srepresentations, and endeavoured, in various ways, to extenuate thedanger.
Nay, my child, said her father, thou needest not reason on thesubject. I am not affraid. At least, on my own account I fear nothing.What is life to me that I should dread to lose it? If on any account Ishould tremble it is on thine, my angelic girl. Thou dost not deservethus early to perish: And yet if my love for thee were rational,perhaps, I ought to wish it. An evil destiny will pursue thee to theclose of thy life, be it never so long.
I know that ignorance and folly breed the phantoms by whichthemselves are peplexed and terrified, and that Whiston is a fool, buthere the truth is too plain to be disguised. This malady ispestilential. Havock and despair will accompany its progress and itsprogress will be rapid. The tragedies of Marseilles and Messina will bereacted on this stage.
For a time, we in this quarter will be exempt, but it will surelyreach us at last, and then, whither shall we fly? For the rich, thewhole world is a safe asylum, but for us, indigent and wretched, whatfate is reserved but to stay and perish? If the disease spare us, wemust perish by neglect and famine. Alarm will be far and wide diffused.Fear will hinder those who supply the market, from entering the city.The price of food will become exorbitant. Our present source ofsubsistence, ignominious and scanty as it is, will be cut off. Trafficand labour of every kind will be at an end. We shall die, but not untilwe have witnessed and endured horrors that surpass thy powers ofconception.
I know full well the enormity of this evil. I have been at Messina,and talked with many who witnessed the state of that city in 1743. Iwill not freeze thy blood with the recital. Anticipation has a tendencyto lessen or prevent some evils, but pestilence is not of that number.Strange untowardness of destiny! That thou and I should be cast upon ascene like this!
Mr. Dudley joined with uncommon powers of discernment, a species ofperverseness not easily accounted for. He acted as if the inevitableevils of her lot was not sufficient for the trial of his daughter'spatience. Instend of comforter and counsellor, he fostered impatiencein himself, and endeavoured, with the utmost diligence, to undermineher fortitude and disconcert her schemes. The task was assigned to her,not only of subduing her own fears, but of maintaining the contest withhis disastrous eloquence. In most cases she had not failed of success.Hitherto their causes of anxiety, her own observation had, in somedegree, enabled her to estimate at their just value. The ruefulpictures which his imagination was wont to pourtray, affected her for amoment; but deliberate scrutiny commonly enabled her to detect anddemonstrate their falacy. Now, however, the theme was new. Panick andforeboding found their way to her heart in defiance of her struggles.She had no experience by which to counteract this impulse. All thatremained was to beguile her own and her father's cares bycounterfeiting cheerfulness and introducing new topics.
This panic, stifled for a time, renewed its sway when she retired toher chamber. Never did futurity wear, to her fancy, so dark an hue.Never did her condition appear to her in a light so dreary and forlorn.To fly from the danger was impossible. How should accommodation at adistance, be procured? The means of subsistence were indissolublyconnected with her present residence, but the progress of this diseasewould cut off these means, and leave her to be beset not only withpestilence but famine. What provision could she make against an evillike this?
The terms on which she had been admitted into this house, includedthe advance of one quarter's rent and the monthly payment of subsequentdues. The requisite sum had been with difficulty collected, thelandlord had twice called to remind her of her stipulation, and thisday had been fixed for the discharge of this debt. He had omitted,contrary to her expectations and her wishes, to come. It was probable,however, that they should meet on the ensuing day. If he should fail inthis respect, it appeared to be her duty to carry the money to hishouse, and this it had been her resolution to perform.
Now, however, new views were suggested to her thoughts. By thepayment of this debt she should leave herself nearly destitute. Theflight and terror of the citizens would deprive her of employment. Wantof food was an immediate and inevitable evil which the payment of thissum would produce. Was it just to incur this evil? To retain the meansof luxurious gratification would be wrong, but to bereave herself andher father of bare subsistance was surely no dictate of duty.
It is true the penalty of nonpayment was always in the landlord'shands. He was empowered by the law to sell their moveables and expelthem from his house. It was now no time for a penalty like this to beincurred. But from this treatment it was reasonable to hope that hislenity would save them. Was it not right to wait till the alternativeof expulsion or payment was imposed? Meanwhile, however, she wassubjected to the torments of suspense and to the guilt of a brokenpromise. These consequences were to be eluded only in one way: Byvisiting her landlord and stating her true condition, it was possiblethat his compassion would remit claims which were, in themselves,unreasonable and uncommon. The tender of the money accompanied byrepresentations sufficiently earnest and pathetic, might possibly bedeclined.
These reflections were, next morning, submitted to her father. Herdecision in this case was of less importance in his eyes, than in thoseof his daughter. Should the money be retained, it was, in his opinion,a pittance too small to afford them effectual support. Supposingprovisions to be had at any price, which was, itself improbable, thatprice would be exorbitant. The general confusion would probably lastfor months, and thirty dollars would be devoured in a few weeks even ina time of safety. To give or to keep was indifferent for anotherreason. It was absurd for those to consult about means of subsistencefor the next month, when it was fixed that they should dieto-morrow--The true proceeding was obvious. The landlord's characterwas well known to him by means of the plaints and invectives of theirneighbours, most of whom were tenants of the same man. If the moneywere offered his avarice would receive it, in spite of all the pleasthat she should urge. If it were detained without lieve, an officer ofjustice would quickly be dispatched to claim it.
This statement was sufficient to take away from Constance the hopethat she had fostered. What then, said she, after a pause, is myfather's advice? Shall I go forthwith and deliver the money?
No, said he, stay till he sends for it. Have you forgotten thatMathews resides in the very midst of this disease. There is no need tothrust yourself within its fangs. They will reach us time enough. It islikely his messenger will be an agent of the law. No matter. The debtwill be merely increased by a few charges. In a state like ours, themiserable remnant is not worth caring for.
This reasoning, did not impart conviction to the lady. The danger,flowing from a tainted atmosphere was not small, but to incur thatdanger was wiser than to exasperate their landlord, to augment the debtand to encounter the disgrace, accruing from a constable's visits. Theconversation was dropped and, presently after, she set out on a visitto Mathews.
She fully estimated the importance to her happiness of the sum whichshe was going to pay. The general panic had already, in some degree,produced the effect she chiefly dreaded; the failure of employment forher needle. Her father had, with his usual diligence at self-torment,supplied her with sufficient proofs of the covetous and obdurate temperof her creditor. Insupportable, however, as the evil of payment was, itwas better to incur it spontaneously, than by means of legal process.The desperateness of this proceeding therefore, did not prevent herfrom adopting it, but it filled her heart with the bitterestsensations. Absorbed as she past along, by these, she was nearlyinsensible to the vacancy which now prevailed in a quarter whichformerly resounded with the din of voices and carriages.
As she approached the house to which she was going, her reluctanceto proceed increased. Frequently she paused to recollect the motivesthat had prescribed this task, and to reinforce her purposes. At lengthshe arrived at the house. Now, for the first time, her attention wasexcited by the silence and desolation that surrounded her. Thisevidence of fear and of danger struck upon her heart. All appeared tohave fled from the presence of this unseen and terrible foe. Thetemerity of adventuring thus into the jaws of the pest, now appeared toher in glaring colours.
Appearances suggested a reflection which had not previously occurredand which tended to console her. Was it not probable that Mathews hadlikewise flown? His habits were calculated to endear to him his life:He would scarcely be among the last to shun perils like these: Theomission of his promised visit on the preceding day, might be owing tohis absence from the city, and thus, without subjection to any painfulalternative, she might be suffered to retain the money.
To give certainty to this hope, she cast her eye towards the houseopposite to which she now stood. Her heart drooped on perceiving proofsthat the dwelling was still inhabited. The door was open and thewindows in the second and third story were raised. Near the entrance,in the street, stood a cart. The horse attached to it, in his form andfurniture and attitude, was an emblem of torpor and decay. His gauntsides, motionless limbs, his gummy and dead eyes, and his head hangingto the ground, were in unison with the craziness of the vehicle towhich he belonged, and the paltry and bedusted harness which coveredhim. No attendant nor any human face was visible. The stillness, thoughat an hour customarily busy, was uninterrupted except by the sound ofwheels moving at an almost indistinguishable distance.
She paused for a moment to contemplate this unwonted spectacle. Hertrepidations were mingled with emotions not unakin to sublimity, butthe consciousness of danger speedily prevailed, and she hastened toacquit herself of her engagement. She approached the door for thispurpose, but before she could draw the bell her motions were arrestedby sounds from within. The staircase was opposite the door. Two personswere now discovered descending the stair. They lifted between them anheavy mass, which was presently discerned to be a coffin. Shocked bythis discovery and trembling she withdrew from the entrance.
At this moment a door on the opposite side of the street opened anda female came out. Constance approached her involuntarily and herappearance not being unattractive, adventured, more by gestures than bywords, to enquire whose obsequies were thus unceremoniously conducted.The woman informed her that the dead was Mathews, who, two days before,was walking about, indifferent to, and braving danger. She cut shortthe narrative which her companion seemed willing to prolong, and toembellish with all its circumstances, and hastened home with her utmostexpedition.
The mind of Constance was a stranger to pusillanimity. Death, as thecommon lot of all, was regarded by her without perturbation. The valueof life, though not annihilated, was certainly diminished by adversity.With whatever solemnity contemplated, it excited on her own account, noaversion or inquietude. For her father's sake only, death was an evilto be ardently deprecated. The nature of the prevalent disease, thelimits and modes of its influence, the risque that is incurred byapproaching the sick or the dead, or by breathing the surroundingelement, were subjects foreign to her education. She judged like themass of mankind from the most obvious appearances, and was subject likethem to impulses which disdained the controul of her reason. With allher complacency for death and speculative resignation to the fate thatgoverns the world, disquiet and alarm pervaded her bosom on thisoccasion.
The deplorable state to which her father would be reduced by herdeath, was seen and lamented, but her tremulous sensations flowed notfrom this source. They were, in some sort, inexplicable and mechanical.In spite of recollection and reflection, they bewildered and harassedher, and subsided only of their own accord.
The death of Mathews was productive of one desirable consequence.Till the present tumult were passed, and his representatives hadleisure to inspect his affairs, his debtors would probably remainunmolested. He, likewise, who should succeed to the inheritance, mightpossess very different qualities, and he as much distinguished forequity as Mathews had been for extortion. These reflections lightenedher footsteps as she hied homeward. The knowledge she had gained, shehoped would counterpoise, in her father's apprehension, the perils,which accompanied the acquisition of it.
She had scarcely passed her own threshhold, when she was followed byWhiston. This man pursued the occupation of a Cooper. He performedjourney-work in a shop, which, unfortunately for him, was situated nearthe water, and at a small distance from the scene of originalinfection. This day his employer had dismissed his workman, and Whistonwas at liberty to retire from the city; a scheme, which had been thetheme of deliberation and discussion during the precedingfortnight.
Hitherto his apprehensions seemed to have molested others more thanhimself. The rumours and conjectures industriously collected during theday, were, in the evening, copiously detailed to his neighbours, andhis own mind appeared to be disburthened of its cares, in proporationas he filled others with terror and inquietude. The predictions ofphysicians, the measures of precaution prescribed by the government,the progress of the malady, and the history of the victims who werehourly destroyed by it, were communicated with tormenting prolixity andterrifying minuteness.
On these accounts as well as on others, no one's visits were moreunwelcome than his. As his deportment was sober and honest, and hisintentions harmless, he was always treated, by Constantia, withpoliteness, though his entrance always produced a momentary depressionof her spirits. On this evening she was less fitted than ever to repelthose anxieties which his conversation was qualified to produce. Hisentrance, therefore, was observed with sincere regret.
Contrary, however, to her expectation, Whiston brought with him newmanners and a new expression of countenance. He was silent, abstracted,his eye was full of inquietude, and wandered with perpetualrestlessness. On these tokens being remarked, he expressed, infaultering accents his belief, that he had contracted this disease, andthat now it was too late for him to leave the city.
Mr. Dudley's education was somewhat medical. He was so farinterested in his guest as to enquire into his sensations. They weresuch as were commonly the preludes to fever. Mr. Dudley, while heendeavoured by cheerful tones, to banish his dejection, exhorted him togo home, and to take some hot and wholesome draught, in consequence ofwhich, he might rise tomorrow with his usual health. This advice wasgratefully received, and Whiston put a period to his visit much soonerthan was customary.
Mr. Dudley entertained no doubts that Whiston was seized with thereigning disease, and extingnished the faint hope which his daughterhad cherished, that their district would escape. Whiston's habitationwas nearly opposite their own, but as they made no use of their frontroom, they had seldom an opportunity of observing the transactions oftheir neighbours. This distance and seclusion were congenial with herfeelings, and she derived pleasure from her father's confession, thatthey contributed to personal security.
Constance was accustomed to rise with the dawn, and traverse, for anhour, the State-house Mall. As she took her walk the next morning, shepondered with astonishment on the present situation of the city. Theair was bright and pure, and apparently salubrious. Security andsilence seemed to hover over the scene. She was only reminded of thetrue state of things by the occasional appearance of carriages loadedwith household utensils tending towards the country, and by the odourof vinegar by which every passenger was accompanied. The public walkwas cool and fragrant as formerly, skirted by verdure as bright, andshaded by foliage as luxuriant, but it was no longer frequented bylively steps and cheerful countenances. Its solitude was uninterruptedby any but herself.
This day passed without furnishing any occasion to leave the house.She was less sedulously employed than usual, as the cloaths, on whichshe was engaged, belonged to a family who had precipitately left thecity. She had leisure therefore to ruminate. She could not but feelsome concern in the fate of Whiston. He was a young man who subsistedon the fruits of his labour, and divided his gains with an only sisterwho lived with him, and who performed every household office.
This girl was humble and innocent, and of a temper affectionate andmild. Casual intercourse only had taken place between her andConstance. They were too dissimilar for any pleasure to arise fromcommunication, but the latter was sufficiently disposed to extend toher harmless neighbour, the sympathy and succour which she needed.Whiston had come from a distant part of the country, and his sister wasthe only person in the city with whom he was connected by ties ofkindred. In case of his sickness, therefore, their cons dition would behelpless and deplorable.
Evening arrived, and Whiston failed to pay his customary visit. Shementioned this omission to her father, and expressed her apprehensionas to the cause of it. He did not discountenance the inference whichshe drew from this circumstance, and assented to the justice of thepicture which she drew of the calamitous state to which Whiston and hissister would be reduced by the indisposition of either. She thenventured to suggest the propriety of visiting the house, and of thusascertaining the truth.
To this proposal Mr. Dudley urged the most vehement objectioes. Whatpurpose could be served by entering their dwelling? What benefit wouldflow but the gratification of a dangerous curiosity? Constance wasdisabled from furnishing pecuniary aid. She could not act the part ofphysician or nurse. Her father stood in need of a thousand personalservices, and the drudgery of cleansing and cooking, already exceededthe bounds of her strength. The hazard of contracting the disease byconversing with the sick, was imminent. What services was she able torender equivalent to the consequences of her own sickness anddeath?
These representations had temporary influence. They recalled her fora moment, from her purpose, but this purpose was speedily re-embraced.She reflected that the evil to herself, formidable as it was, wasbarely problematical. That converse with the sick would impart thisdisease, was by no means certain. Whiston might at least be visited.Perhaps she should find him well. If sick, his disease might beunepidemical, or curable by seasonable assistance. He might stand inneed of a physician, and she was more able than his sister, to summonthis aid.
Her father listened calmly to her reasonings. After a pause, he gavehis consent. In doing this he was influenced not by the conviction thathis daughter's safety would be exposed to no hazard, but from a beliefthat though she might shun infection for the present, it wouldinevitably seize her during some period of the progress of thispest.
It was now dusk and she hastened to perform this duty. Whiston'sdwelling was wooden and of small dimensions. She lifted the latchsoftly and entered. The lower room was unoccupied. She advanced to thefoot of a narrow staircase, and knocked and listened, but no answer wasreturned to the summons. Hence there was reason to infer that no onewas within, but this, from other considerations, was extremelyimprobable. The truth could be ascertained only by ascending the stair.Some feminine scruples were to be subdued before this proceeding couldbe adopted.
After some hesitation, she determined to ascend. The staircase wasterminated by a door at which she again knocked, for admission, but invain. She listened and presently heard the motion as of some one inbed. This was succeeded by tokens of vehement exertions to vomit. Thesesigns convincing her that the house was not without a tenant, she couldnot besitate to enter the room.
Lying in a tattered bed, she now discovered Mary Whiston. Her facewas flushed and swelled, her eyes closed and some power appeared tohave laid a leaden hand upon her faculties. The floor was moistened andstained by the effusion from her stomach. Constance touched her hand,and endeavoured to rouse her. It was with difficulty that her attentionwas excited. Her languid eyes were scarcely opened before they againclosed and she sunk into forgetfulness.
Repeated efforts, however, at length recalled her to herself, andextorted from her some account of her condition. On the day before, atnoon, her stomach became diseased, her head dizzy, and her limbs unableto support her. Her brother was absent, and her drowsiness, interruptedonly by paroxysms of vomiting, continued till his return late in theevening. He had then shewn himself, for a few minutes, at her bedside,had made some enquiries and precipitately retired, since when he hadnot reappeared.
It was natural to imagine that Whiston had gone to procure medicalassistance. That he had not returned, during a day and a half wasmatter of surprize. His own indisposition was recollected and hisabsence could only be accounted for by supposing that sickness haddisabled him from regaining his own house. What was his real destiny,it was impossible to conjecture. It was not till some months after thisperiod that satisfactory intelligence was gained upon this head.
It appeared that Whiston had allowed his terrors to overpower thesense of what was due to his sister and to humanity. On discovering thecondition of the unhappy girl, he left the house, and, instead ofseeking a physician, he turned his steps towards the country. Aftertravelling some hours, being exhausted by want of food, by fatigue, andby mental as well as bodily anguish, he laid himself down under theshelter of an hayrick, in a vacant field. Here he was discovered in themorning by the inhabitants of a neighbouring farm house. These peoplehad too much regard for their own safety to accommodate him under theirroof, or even to approach within fifty paces of his person.
A passenger whose attention and compassion had been excited by thisincident, was endowed with more courage. He lifted the stranger in hisarms, and carried him from this unwholesome spot to a barn. This wasthe only service which the passenger was able to perform. Whiston,deserted by every human creature, burning with fever, tormented intomadness by thirst, spent three miserable days in agony. When dead, noone would cover his body with earth, but he was suffered to decay bypiecemeal.
The dwelling, being at no great distance from the barn, could not bewholly screened from the malignant vapour which a corpse, thusneglected, could not fail to produce. The inhabitants were preparing onthis account, to change their abode, but, on the eve of theirdeparture, the master of the family became sick. He was, in a shorttime, followed to the grave by his mother, his wife and fourchildren.
They probably imbibed their disease from the tainted atmospherearound them. The life of Whiston and their own lives, might have beensaved by affording the wanderer an asylum and suitable treatment, or atleast, their own deaths might have been avoided by interring hisremains.
Meanwhile Constantia was occupied with reflecting on the scenebefore her. Not only a physician but a nurse was wanting. The lastprovince it was more easy for her to supply than the former. She wasacquainted with the abode but of one physician. He lived at no smalldistance from this spot. To him she immediately hastened, but he wasabsent, and his numerous engagements left it wholly uncertain when hewould return and whether he would consent to increase the number of hispatients. Direction was obtained to the residence of another, who washappily disengaged, and who promised to attend immediately. Satisfiedwith this assurance, she neglected to request directions, by which shemight regulate herself on his failing to come.
During her return her thoughts were painfully employed inconsidering the mode proper for her to pursue, in her presentperplexing situation. She was for the most part unacquainted with thecharacter of those who composed her neighbourhood. That any would bewilling to undertake the tendance of this girl was by no meansprobable. As wives and mothers, it would perhaps be unjust to requireor permit it. As to herself there were labours and duties of her ownsufficient to engross her faculties, yet, by whatever foreign cares ortasks she was oppressed, she felt that, to desert this being, wasimpossible.
In the absence of her friend, Mary's state exhibited no change.Constance, on regaining the house, lighted the remnant of a candle, andresumed her place by the bed side of the sick girl. She impatientlywaited for the arrival of the physician, but hour succeeded hour and hecame not. All hope of his coming being extinguished, she bethoughtherself that her father might be able to inform her of the best mannerof proceeding. It was likewise her duty to relieve him from thesuspence in which her absence would unavoidably plunge him.
On entering her own apartment she found a stranger in company withMr. Dudley. The latter perceiving that she had returned, speedilyacquainted her with the views of their guest. His name was M`Crea; hewas the nephew of their landlord and was now become, by reversion, theproprietor of the house which they occupied. Mathews had been buriedthe preceding day, and M`Crea, being well acquainted with theengagements which subsisted between the deceased and Mr. Dudley, hadcome, thus unseasonably, to demand the rent. He was not unconscious ofthe inhumanity and sordidness of this proceeding, and therefore,endeavoured to disguise it by the usual pretences. All his funds wereexhausted. He came not only in his own name, but in that of Mrs.Mathews his aunt, who was destitute of money to procure daily andindispensible provision, and who was striving to collect a sufficientsum to enable her and the remains of her family, to fly from a spotwhere their lives were in perpetual danger.
These excuses were abundantly fallacious, but Mr. Dudley was tooproud to solicit the forbearance of a man like this. He recollectedthat the engagement on his part was voluntary and explicit, and hedisdained to urge his present exigences as reasons for retracting it.He expressed the utmost readiness to comply with the demand, and merelydesired him to wait till Miss Dudley returned. From the inquietudeswith which the unusual duration of her absence had filled him, he wasnow relieved by her entrance.
With an indignant and desponding heart, she complied with herfather's directions, and the money being reluctantly delivered, M`Creatook an hasty leave. She was too deeply interested in the fate of MaryWhiston, to allow her thoughts to be diverted for the present into anew channel. She described the desolate condition of the girl to herfather, and besought him to think of something suitable to herrelief.
Mr. Dudley's humanity would not suffer him to disapprove of hisdaughter's proceeding. He imagined that the symptoms of the patientportended a fatal issue. There were certain complicated remedies whichmight possibly be beneficial, but these were too costly, and theapplication would demand more strength than his daughter could bestow.He was unwilling, however, to leave any thing within his power,untried. Pharmacy had been his trade, and he had reserved, for domesticuse, some of the most powerful evacuants. Constantia was supplied withsome of these, and he consented that she should spend the night withher patient, and watch their operation.
The unhappy Mary received whatever was offered, but her stomachrefused to retain it. The night was passed by Constantia withoutclosing her eyes. As soon as the day dawned, she prepared once more tosummon the physician, who had failed to comply with his promise. Shehad scarcely left the house, however, before she met him. He pleadedhis numerous engagements in excuse for his last night's negligence, anddesired her to make haste to conduct him to the patient.
Having scrutinized her symptoms, he expressed his hopelessness ofher recovery. Being informed of the mode in which she had been treated,he declared his approbation of it, but intimated, that these beingunsuccessful, all that remained was to furnish her with any liquid shemight chuse to demand, and wait patiently for the event. During thisinterview, the physician surveyed the person and dress of Constancewith an inquisitive eye. His countenance betrayed marks of curiosityand compassion, and had he made any approaches to confidence andfriendliness, Constance would not have repelled them. His air wasbenevolent and candid, and she estimated highly the usefulness of acounsellor and friend in her present circumstances. Some motive,however, hindered him from tendering his service, and, in a fewmoments, he withdrew.
Mary's condition hourly grew worse. A corroded and gangrenousstomach was quickly testified by the dark hue and poisonous malignityof the matter which was frequently ejected from it. Her stupor gaveplace to some degree of peevishness and restlessness. She drank thewater that was held to her lips with unspeakable avidity, and derivedfrom this source a momentary alleviation of her pangs. Fortunately forher attendant, her agonies were not of long duration. Constantia wasabsent from her bedside as rarely, and for periods as short aspossible. On the succeeding night, the sufferings of the patientterminated in death.
This event took place at two o'clock in the morning. An hour whosecustomary stillness was, if possible, encreased tenfold by thedesolation of the city. The poverty of Mary and of her nurse, haddeprived the former of the benefits resulting from the change of bedand cloaths. Every thing about her was in a condition noisome anddetestable. Her yellowish and haggard visage, conspicuous by a feeblelight, an atmosphere freighted with malignant vapours, and remindingConstance at every instant, of the perils which encompassed her, theconsciousness of solitude and sensations of deadly sickness in her ownframe, were sufficient to intimidate a soul of firmer texture thanher's.
She was sinking fast into helplessness, when a new train ofreflections shewed her the necessity of perseverance. All that remainedwas to consign the corpse to the grave. She knew that vehicles for thisend were provided at the public expense, that notice being given of theoccasion there was for their attendance, a receptacle and carriage forthe dead would be instantly provided. Application, at this hour, sheimagined would be unseasonable. It must be deferred till the morningwhich was yet at some distance.
Meanwhile to remain at her present post, was equally useless anddangerous. She endeavoured to stifle the conviction, that some mortalsickness had seized upon her own frame. Her anxieties of head andstomach, she was willing to impute to extraordinary fatigue andwatchfulness; and hoped that they would be dissipated by an hour'sunmolested repose. She formed the resolution of seeking her ownchamber.
At this moment, however, the universal silence underwent a slightinterruption. The sound was familiar to her ears. It was a signalfrequently repeated at the midnight hour during this season ofcalamity. It was the slow movement of an hearse, apparently passingalong the street, in which the alley, where Mr. Dudley resided,terminated. At first, this sound had no other effect than to aggravatethe dreariness of all around her. Presently it occured to her that thisvehicle might be disengaged She conceived herself bound to see the lastoffices performed for the deceased Mary. The sooner so irksome a dutywas discharged the better. Every hour might augment her incapacity forexertion. Should she be unable when the morning arrived, to go as faras the city-hall, and give the necessary information, the most shockingconsequences would ensue. Whiston's house and her own were oppositeeach other, and not connected with any on the same side. A narrow spacedivided them, and her own chamber was within the sphere of thecontagion which would flow, in consequence of such neglect, from thatof her neighbour.
Influenced by these considerations she passed into the street, andgained the corner of the alley, just as the carriage, whose movementsshe had heard, arrived at the same spot. It was accompanied by two men,negroes, who listened to her tale with respect. Having already aburthen of this kind, they could not immediately comply with thisrequest. They promised that, having disposed of their present charge,they would return forthwith and be ready to execute her orders.
Happily one of these persons was known to her. At other seasons hisoccupation was that of woodcarter, and as such he had performed someservices for Mr. Dudley. His temper was gentle and obliging. Thecharacser of Constance had been viewed by him with reverence, and hiskindness had relieved her from many painful offices. His old occupationbeing laid aside for a time, he had betaken himself, like many othersof his colour and rank, to the conveyance and burial of the dead.
At Constantia's request, he accompanied her to Whiston's house, andpromised to bring with him such assistance, as would render her furtherexertions and attendance unnecessary. Glad to be absolved from any newtask, she now retired to her own chamber. In spite of her distemperedframe, she presently sunk into sweet sleep. She awoke not till the dayhad made considerable progress, and found herself invigorated andrefreshed. On re-entering Whiston's house, she discovered that herhumble friend had faithfully performed his promise, the dead bodyhaving disappeared. She deemed it unsafe, as well as unnecessary, toexamine the cloaths and other property remaining, but leaving everything in the condition in which it had been found, she fastened thewindows and doors, and thenceforth kept as distant from the house aspossible.
Constantia had now leisure to ruminate upon her own condition. Everyday added to the devastation and confusion of the city. The mostpopulous streets were deserted and silent. The greater number ofinhabitants had fled, and those who remained were occupied with nocares but those which related to their own safety. The labours of theartizan and the speculations of the merchant were suspended. All shops,but those of the apothecaries were shut. No carriage but the herse wasseen, and this was employed, night and day, in the removal of the dead.The customary sources of subsistence were cut off. Those, whosefortunes enabled them to leave the city, but who had deferred till nowtheir retreat, were denied an asylum by the terror which pervaded theadjacent country, and by the cruel prohibitions which the neighbouringtowns and cities thought it necessary to adopt. Those who lived by thefruits of their daily labour were subjected, in this total inactivity,to the alternative of starving, or of subsisting upon publiccharity.
The meditations of Constance, suggested no alternative but this. Theexactions of M`Crea had reduced her whole fortune to five dollars. Thiswould rapidly decay, and her utmost ingenuity could discover no meansof procuring a new supply. All the habits of their life had combined tofill both her father and herself with aversion to the acceptance ofcharity. Yet this avenue, opprobrious and disgustful as it was,afforded the only means of escaping from the worst extremes offamine.
In this state of mind it was obvious to consider in what way the sumremaining might be most usefully expended. Every species of provisionwas not equally nutritious or equally cheap. Her mind, active in thepursuit of knowledge and fertile of resources, had lately been engaged,in discussing with her father, the best means of retaining health, in atime of pestilence. On occasions, when the malignity of contagiousdiseases has been most signal, some individuals have escaped. For theirsafety, they were doubtless indebted to some peculiarities in theirconstitution or habits. Their diet, their dress, their kind and degreeof exercise, must some-what have contributed to their exemption fromthe common destiny. These, perhaps, could be ascertained, and whenknown it was surely proper to conform to them.
In discussing these ideas, Mr. Dudley introduced the mention of aBenedictine of Messina, who, during the prevalence of the plague inthat city, was incessantly engaged in administering assistance to thosewho needed. Notwithstanding his perpetual hazards, he retained perfecthealth, and was living thirty years after this event. During thisperiod, he fostered a tranquil, fearless, and benevolent spirit, andrestricted his diet to water and pollenta. Spices, and meats, andliquors, and all complexities of cookery were utterly discarded.
These facts now occurred to Constantia's reflections with newvividness, and led to interesting consequences. Pollenta andhasty-pudding or samp, are preparations of the same substance; asubstance which she needed not the experience of others to convince herwas no less grateful than nutritive. Indian meal was procurable atninety cents per bushel. By recollecting former experiments, she knewthat this quantity, with no accompaniment but salt, would supplywholesome and plentiful food for four months to one person. Theinference was palpable. Three persons were now to be supplied withfood, and this supply could be furnished, during four months, at thetrivial expence of three dollars. This expedient was at once souncommon and so desirable, as to be regarded with temporary disbelief.She was inclined to suspect some latent error in her calculation. Thata sum thus applied, should suffice for the subsistence of a year,which, in ordinary cases, is expended in a few days, was scarcelycredible. The more closely, however, the subject was examined, the moreincontestably did this inference flow. The mode of preparation wassimple and easy, and productive of the fewest toils and inconveniences.The attention of her Lucy was sufficient to this end, and the drudgeryof marketing was wholly precluded.
She easily obtained the concurrence of her father and the scheme wasfound as practicable and beneficial as her fondest expectations hadpredicted. Infallible security was thus provided against hunger. Thiswas the only care that was urgent and immediate. While they had foodand were exempt from disease, they could live, and were not withouttheir portion of comfort. Her hands were unemployed, but her mind waskept in continual activity. To seclude herself as much as possible fromothers, was the best means of avoiding infection. Spectacles of miserywhich she was unable to relieve, would merely tend to harrass her withuseless disquietudes and make her frame more accessible to disease. Herfather's instructions were sufficient to give her a competentacquaintance with the Italian and French languages. His dreary hourswere beguiled by this employment, and her mind was furnished with aspecies of knowledge, which she hoped, in future, to make subservientto a more respectable and plentiful subsistence than she had hithertoenjoyed.
Meanwhile the season advanced, and the havoc which this fatal maladyproduced, increased with portentous rapidity. In alleys and narrowstreets, in which the houses were smaller, the inhabitants morenumerous and indigent, and the air pent up within unwholesome limits,it raged with greatest violence. Few of Constantia's neighbourspossessed the means of removing from the danger. The inhabitants ofthis alley consisted of three hundred persons. Of these eight or tenexperienced no interruption of their health. Of the rest two hundredwere destroyed in the course of three weeks. Among so many victims, itmay be supposed that this disease assumed every terrific and agonizingshape.
It was impossible for Constantia to shut out every token of acalamity thus enormous and thus near. Night was the season usuallyselected for the removal of the dead. The sound of wheels thus employedwas incessant. This, and the images with which it was sure to beaccompanied, bereaved her of repose. The shrieks and laments ofsurvivors, who could not be prevented from attending the remains of anhusband or child to the place of interment, frequently struck hersenses. Sometimes urged by a furious delirium, the sick would breakfrom their attendants, rush into the streets, and expire on thepavement, amidst frantic outcries and gestures. By these she was oftenroused from imperfect sleep, and called to reflect upon the fate whichimpended over her father and herself.
To preserve health in an atmosphere thus infected, and to ward offterror and dismay in a scene of horrors thus hourly accumulating, wasimpossible. Constanee found it vain to contend against the inroads ofsadness. Amidst so dreadful a mortality, it was irrational to cherishthe hope that she or her father would escape. Her sensations, in nolong time, seemed to justify her apprehensons. Her appetite forsookher, her strength failed, the thirst and lassitude of fever invadedher, and the grave seemed to open for her reception.
Lucy was assailed by the same symptoms at the same time. Householdoffices were unavoidably neglected. Mr. Dudley retained his health, buthe was able only to prepare his scanty food, and supply the cravings ofhis child, with water from the well. His imagination marked him out forthe next victim. He could not be blind to the consequences of his ownindisposition, at a period so critical. Disabled from contributing toeach others assistance, destitute of medicine and food, and even ofwater to quench their tormenting thirst, unvisited, unknown, andperishing in frightful solitude!--These images had a tendency toprostrate the mind, and generate or ripen the seeds of this fatalmalady, which, no doubt, at this period of its progress, every one hadimbibed.
Contrary to all his fears, he awoke each morning free from pain,though not without an increase of debility. Abstinence from food, andthe liberal use of cold water seemed to have a medicinal operation onthe sick. Their pulse gradually resumed its healthful tenor, theirstrength and their appetite slowly returned, and in ten days they wereable to congratulate each other on their restoration.
I will not recount that series of disastrous thoughts which occupiedthe mind of Constance during this period. Her lingering and sleeplesshours were regarded by her as preludes to death. Though at so immaturean age, she had gained large experience of the evils which are allottedto man. Death, which, in her prosperous state, was peculiarly abhorrentto her feelings, was now disrobed of terror. As an entrance into scenesof lightsome and imperishable being, it was the goal of all her wishes.As a passage to oblivion it was still desirable, since forgetfulnesswas better than the life which she had hitherto led, and which, shouldher existence be prolonged, it was likely that she could continue tolead.
These gloomy meditations were derived from the langours of herframe. When these disappeared, her cheerfulness and fortitude revived.She regarded with astonishment and delight, the continuance of herfather's health and her own restoration. That trial seemed to have beensafely undergone, to which the life of every one was subject. The airwhich till now had been arid and sultry, was changed into cool andmoist. The pestilence had reached its utmost height, and now symptomsof remission and decline began to appear. Its declension was more rapidthan its progress, and every day added vigour to hope.
When her strength was somewhat retrieved, Constantia called to minda good woman who lived in her former neighbourhood, and from whom shehad received many proofs of artless affection. This woman's name wasSarah Baxter. She lived within a small distance of Constantia's formerdwelling. The trade of her husband was that of porter, and she pursued,in addition to the care of a numerous family, the business of aLanndress. The superior knowledge and address of Constance, had enabledher to be serviceable to this woman in certain painful and perplexingcircumstances.
This service was repaid with the utmost gratitude. Sarah regardedher benefactress with a species of devotion. She could not endure tobehold one, whom every accent and gesture proved to have once enjoyedaffluence and dignity, performing any servile office. In spite of herown multiplied engagements, she compelled Constance to acsept herassistance on many occasions, and could scarcely be prevailed upon toreceive any compensation for her labour. Washing cloaths was her trade,and from this task she insisted on relieving her lovely patronness.
Constantia's change of dwelling produced much regret in the kindSarah. She did not allow it to make any change in their previousarrangements, but punctually visited the Dudleys once a week, andcarried home with her whatever stood in need of ablution. When theprevalence of disease disabled Constance from paying her the usualwages, she would, by no means, consent to be absolved from this task.Her earnestness on this head was not to be eluded, and Constance, inconsenting that her work should, for the present, be performedgratuitously, solaced herself with the prospect of being able, by somefuture change of fortune, amply to reward her.
Sarah's abode was distant from danger, and her fears were turbulent.She was, nevertheless, punctual in her visits to the Dudleys, andanxious for their safety. In case of their sickness, she had declaredher resolution to be their attendant and nurse. Suddenly, however, hervisits ceased. The day on which her usual visit was paid, was the samewith that on which Constantia sickened, but her coming was expected invain. Her absence was, on some accounts, regarded with pleasure, as itprobably secured her from the danger connected with the office of anurse, but it added to Constantia's cares, inasmuch as her ownsickness, or that of some of her family, was the only cause of herdetention.
To remove her doubts, the first use which Constantia made of herrecovered strength, was to visit her laundress: Sarah's house was atheatre of suffering. Her husband was the first of his family assailedby the reigning disease. Two daughters, nearly grown to womanhood,welldisposed and modest girls, the pride and support of their mother,and who lived at service, returned home, sick, at the same time, anddied in a few days. Her husband had struggled for eleven days with hisdisease, and was seized, just before Constantia's arrival, with thepangs of death.
Baxter was endowed with great robustness and activity. This diseasedid not vanquish him but with tedious and painful struggles. Hismuscular force now exhausted itself in ghastly contortions, and thehouse resounded with his ravings. Sarah's courage had yielded to sorapid a succession of evils. Constantia found her shut up in a chamber,distant from that of her dying husband, in a paroxysm of grief, andsurrounded by her younger children.
Constantia's entrance was like that of an angelic comforter. Sarahwas unqualified for any office but that of complaint. With greatdifficulty she was made to communicate the knowledge of her situation.Her visitant then passed into Baxter's apartment. She forced herself toendure this tremendous scene long enough to discover that it washastening to a close. She left the house, and hastening to the properoffice, engaged the immediate attendance of an hearse. Before the lapseof an hour, Baxter's lifeless remains were thrust into a coffin andconveyed away.
Constance now exerted herself to comfort and encourage thesurvivors. Her remonstrances incited Sarah to perform with alacrity themeasures which prudence dictates on these occasions. The house waspurified by the admission of air and the sprinkling of vinegar.Constantia applied her own hand to these tasks, and set her humblefriend an example of forethought and activity. Sarah would not consentto part with her till a late hour in the evening.
These exertions had like to have been fatally injurious toConstance. Her health was not sufficiently confirmed to sustain officesso arduous. In the course of the night her fatigue terminated in fever.In the present more salubrious state of the atmosphere, it assumed nomalignant symptoms, and shortly disappeared. During her indisposition,she was attended by Sarah, in whose honest bosom no sentiment was morelively than gratitude. Constantia having promised to renew her visitthe next day, had been impatiently expected, and Sarah had come to herdwelling in the evening, full of foreboding and anxiety, to ascertainthe cause of her delay. Having gained the bed-side of her patronness,no consideration could induce her to retire from it.
Constantia's curiosity was naturally excited as to the causes ofBaxter's disease. The simple-hearted Sarah was prolix and minute in thehistory of her own affairs. No theme was more congenial to her temperthan that which was now proposed. In spite of redundance and obscurityin the style of the narrative, Constantia found in it powerfulexcitements of her sympathy. The tale, on its own account, as well asfrom the connection of some of its incidents with a subsequent part ofthese memoirs, is worthy to be here inserted. However foreign thedestiny of Monrose may at present appear to the story of the Dudleys,there will hereafter be discovered an intimate connection betweenthem.
Adjacent to the house occupied by Baxter was an antique bricktenement. It was one of the first erections made by the followers ofWilliam Penn. It had the honor to be used as the temporary residence ofthat venerable person. Its moss-grown penthouse, crumbling walls, andruinous porch, made it an interesting and picturesque object.Notwithstanding its age, it was still tenable.
This house was occupied, during the preceding months, by aFrenchman. His dress and demeanour were respectable. His mode of lifewas frugal almost to penuriousness, and his only companion was adaughter. The lady seemed not much less than thirty years of age, butwas of a small and delicate frame. It was she that performed everyhousehold office. She brought water from the pump and provisions fromthe market. Their house had no visitants, and was almost always closed.Duly, as the morning returned, a venerable figure was seen issuing fromhis door, dressed in the same style of tarnished splendour andold-fashioned preciseness. At the dinner hour he as regularly returned.For the rest of the day he was invisible.
The habitations in this quarter are few and scattered. Thepestilence soon shewed itself here, and the flight of most of theinhabitants, augmented its desolateness and dreariness. For some time,Monrose, that was his name, made his usual appearance in the morning.At length the neighbours remarked that he no longer came forth asusual. Baxter had a notion that Frenchmen were exempt from thisdisease. He was, besides, deeply and rancorously prejudiced againstthat nation. There will be no difficulty in accounting for this, whenit is known that he had been an English grenadier at Dettingen andMinden. It must likewise be added, that he was considerably timid, andhad sickness in his own family. Hence it was that the disappearance ofMonrose excited in him no inquisitiveness as to the cause. He did noteven mention this circumstance to others.
The lady was occasionally seen as usual in the street. There werealways remarkable peculiarities in her behaviour. In the midst of graveand disconsolate looks, she never laid aside an air of solemn dignity.She seemed to shrink from the observation of others, and her eyes werealways fixed upon the ground. One evening Baxter was passing the pumpwhile she was drawing water. The sadness which her looks betokened, anda suspicion that her father might be sick, had a momentary effect uponhis feelings. He stopped and asked how her father was. She paid apolite attention to his question, and said something in French. Thisand the embarrassment of her air, convinced him that his words were notunderstood. He said no more (what indeed could he say?) but passedon.
Two or three days after this, on returning in the evening to hisfamily, his wife expressed her surprise in not having seen Miss Monrosein the street that day. She had not been at the pump, nor had gone, asusual, to market. This information gave him some disquiet; yet he couldform no resolution. As to entering the house and offering his aid, ifaid were needed, he had too much regard for his own safety, and toolittle for that of a frog-eating Frenchman, to think serieusly of thatexpedient. His attention was speedily diverted by other objects, andMonrose was, for the present, forgotten.
Baxter's profession was that of a porter. He was thrown out ofemployment by the present state of things. The solicitude of theguardians of the city was exerted on this occasion, not only inopposing the progress of disease, and furnishing provisions to thedestitute, but in the preservation of property. For this end the numberof nightly watchmen was increased. Baxter entered himself in thisservice. From nine till twelve o'clock at night it was his province tooccupy a certain post.
On this night he attended his post as usual. Twelve o'clock arrived,and he bent his steps homeward. It was necessary to pass by Monrose'sdoor. On approaching this house, the circumstance mentioned by his wiferecurred to him. Something like compassion was conjured up in his heartby the figure of the lady, as he recollected to have lately seen it. Itwas obvious to conclude that sickness was the cause of her seclusion.The same, it might be, had confined her father. If this were true, howdeplorable might be their present condition! Without food, withoutphysician or friends, ignorant of the language of the country, andthence unable to communicate their wants or solicit succour; fugitivesfrom their native land, neglected, solitary, and poor.
His heart was softened by these images. He stopped involuntarilywhen opposite their door. He looked up at the house. The shutters wereclosed, so that light, if it were within, was invisible. He steppedinto the porch, and put his eye to the key-hole. All was darksome andwaste. He listened and imagined that he heard the aspirations of grief.The sound was scarcely articulate, but had an electrical effect uponhis feelings. He retired to his home full of mournful reflections.
He was willing to do something for the relief of the sufferers, butnothing could be done that night. Yet succour, if delayed till themorning, might be ineffectual. But how, when the morning came, shouldhe proceed to effectuate his kind intentions? The guardians of thepublic welfare, at this crisis, were distributed into those whocounselled and those who executed. A set of men, self-appointed to thegenerous office, employed themselves in seeking out the destitute orsick, and imparting relief. With this arrangement, Baxter wasacquainted. He was resolved to carry tidings of what he had heard andseen to one of those persons early the next day.
Baxter, after taking some refreshment, retired to rest. In no longtime, however, he was awakened by his wife, who desired him to notice acertain glimmering on the ceiling. It seemed the feeble and flittingray of a distant and moving light, coming through the window. It didnot proceed from the street, for the chamber was lighted from the side,and not from the front of the house. A lamp borne by a passenger, orthe attendants of an hearse, could not be discovered in this situation.Besides, in the latter case, it would be accompanied by the sound ofthe vehicle, and probably, by weeping and exclamations of despair. Hisemployment, as the guardian of property, naturally suggested to him theidea of robbery. He started from his bed, and went to the window.
His house stood at the distance of about fifty paces from that ofMonrose. There was annexed to the latter, a small garden or yard,bounded by an high wooden fence. Baxter's window overlooked this space.Before he reached the window, the relative situation of the twohabitations occurred to him. A conjecture was instantly formed that theglimmering proceeded from this quarter. His eye, therefore, wasimmediately fixed upon Monrose's back door. It caught a glimpse of anhuman figure, passing into the house, through this door. The person hada candle in his hand. This appeared by the light which streamed afterhim, and which was perceived, though faintly, through a small window ofthe dwelling, after the back door was closed.
The person disappeared too quickly to allow him to say whether itwas male or female. This scrutiny confirmed, rather than weakened theapprehensions that first occurred. He reflected on the desolate andhelpless condition of this family. The father might be sick; and whatopposition could be made by the daughter to the stratagems or violenceof midnight plunderers. This was an evil which it was his duty, in anextraordinary sense, to obviate. It is true, the hour of watching waspassed, and this was not the district assigned to him; but Baxter was,on the whole, of a generous and intrepid spirit: In the present case,therefore, he did not hesitate long in forming his resolution. Heseized an hanger that hung at his bed-side, and which had hewn many anHungarian and French hussar to pieces. With this he descended to thestreet. He cautiously approached Monrose's house. He listened at thedoor, but heard nothing. The Iower apartment, as he discovered throughthe key-hole, was deserted and dark. These appearances could not beaccounted for. He was, as yet, unwilling to call or to knock. He wassolicitous to obtain some information by silent means, and withoutalarming the persons within, who, if they were robbers, might thus beput upon their guard, and enabled to escape. If none but the familywere there, they would not understand his signals, and might impute thedisturbance to the cause which he was desirous to obviate. What couldhe do? Must he patiently wait till some incident should happen toregulate his motions?
In this uncertainly, he bethought himself of going round to the backpart of the dwelling, and watching the door which had been closed. Anopen space, filled with rubbish and weeds, adjoined the house andgarden on one side. Hither he repaired, and raising his head above thefence, at a point directly opposite the door, waited with considerableimpatience for some token or signal, by which he might be directed inhis choice of measures.
Human life abounds with mysterious appearances. A man, perched on afence, at midnight, mute and motionless, and gazing at a dark anddreary dwelling, was an object calculated to rouse curiosity. When themuscular form, and rugged visage, scarred and furrowed into somethinglike ferocity, were added; when the nature of the calamity, by whichthe city was dispeopled, was considered, the motives to plunder, andthe insecurity of property, arising from the pressure of new wants onthe poor, and the flight or disease of the rich, were attended to, anobserver would be apt to admit fearful conjectures.
I know not how long Baxter continued at this post. He remained here,because he could not, as he conceived, change it for a better. Beforehis patience was exhausted, his attention was called by a noise withinthe house. It proceeded from the lower room. The sound was that ofsteps, but this was accompanied with other inexplicable tokens. Thekitchen door at length opened. The figure of Miss Monrose, pale,emaciated, and haggard, presented itself. Within the door stood acandle. It was placed on a chair within sight, and its rays streameddirectly against the face of Baxter, as it was reared above the top ofthe fence. This illumination, faint as it was, bestowed a certain airof wildness on features which nature, and the sanguinary habits of asoldier, had previously rendered, in an eminent degrce, harsh andstern. He was not aware of the danger of discovery, in consequence ofthis position of the candle. His attention was, for a few seconds,engrossed by the object before him. At length he chanced to noticeanother object.
At a few yards distance from the fence, and within it, some oneappeared to have been digging. An opening was made in the ground, butit was shallow and irregular. The implement which seemed to have beenused, was nothing more than a fire shovel, for one of these he observedlying near the spot. The lady had withdrawn from the door, thoughwithout closing it. He had leisure, therefore, to attend to this newcircumstance, and to reflect upon the purpose for which this openingmight have been designed.
Death is familiar to the apprehensions of a soldier. Baxter hadassisted at the hasty interment of thousands, the victims of the swordor of pestilence. Whether it was because this theatre of human calamitywas new to him, and death, in order to be viewed with his ancientunconcern, must be accompanied in the ancient manner, with halberts andtents, certain it is, that Baxter was irresolute and timid in everything that respected the yellow fever. The circumstances of the timesuggested that this was a grave, to which some victim of this diseasewas to be consigned. His teeth chattered when he reflected how near hemight now be to the source of infection: yet his curiosity retained himat his post.
He fixed his eyes once more upon the door. In a short time the ladyagain appeared at it. She was in a stooping posture, and appeared to bedragging something along the floor. His blood ran cold at thisspectacle. His fear instantly figured to itself a corpse, livid andcontagious. Still he had no power to move. The lady's strength,enfeebled as it was by grief, and perhaps by the absence ofnourishment, seemed scarcely adequate to the task which she hadassigned herself.
Her burthen, whatever it was, was closely wrapt in a sheet. She drewit forward a few paces, then desistsd, and seated herself on the groundapparently to recruit her strength, and give vent to the agony of herthoughts in sighs. Her tears were either exhausted or refused to flow,for none were shed by her. Presently she resumed her undertaking.Baxter's horror increased in proportion as she drew nearer to the spotwhere he stood, and yet it seemed as if some fascination had forbiddenhim to recede.
At length the burthen was drawn to the side of the opening in theearth. Here it seemed as if the mournful task was finished. She threwherself once more upon the earth. Her senses seemed for a time to haveforsaken her. She sat buried in reverie, her eyes scarcely open andfixed upon the ground, and every feature set to the genuine expressionof sorrow. Some disorder, occasioned by the circumstance of dragging,now took place in the vestment of what he had rightly predicted to be adead body. The veil by accident was drawn aside, and exhibited, to thestartled eye of Baxter, the pale and ghastly visage of the unhappyMonrose.
This incident determined him. Every joint in his frame trembled, andhe hastily withdrew from the fence. His first motion in doing thisproduced a noise by which the lady was alarmed: she suddenly threw hereyes upward, and gained a full view of Baxter's extraordinarycountenance, just before it disappeared. She manifested her terror by apiercing shriek. Baxter did not stay to mark her subsequent conduct, toconfirm or to dissipate her fears, but retired, in confusion, to hisown house.
Hitherto his caution had availed him. He had carefully avoided allemployments and places from which he imagined imminent danger was to bedreaded. Now, through his own inadvertency, he had rushed, as hebelieved, into the jaws of the pest. His senses had not been assailedby any noisome effluvia This was no unplausible ground for imaginingthat this death had some other cause than the yellow fever. Thiscircumstance did not occur to Baxter. He had been told that Frenchmenwere not susceptible of this contagion. He had hitherto believed thisassertion, but now regarded it as having been fully confuted. He forgotthat Frenchmen were undoubtedly mortal, and that there was noimpossibility in Monrose's dying, even at this time, of a maladydifferent from that which prevailed.
Before morning he began to feel very unpleasant symptoms. He relatedhis late adventure to his wife. She endeavoured, by what arguments herslender ingenuity suggested, to quiet his apprehensions, but in vain.He hourly grew worse, and as soon as it was light, dispatched his wifefor a physician. On interrogating this messenger, the physicianobtained information of last night's occurrences, and this beingcommunicated to one of the dispensers of the public charity, theyproceeded, early in the morning, to Monrose's house. It was closed asusual. They knocked and called, but no one answered. They examinedevery avenue to the dwelling, but none of them were accessible. Theypassed into the garden, and observed, on the spot marked out by Baxtera heap of earth. A very slight exertion was sufficient to remove it anddiscover the body of the unfortunate exile beneath.
After unsuccessfully trying various expedients for entering thehouse, they deemed themselves authorised to break the door. Theyentered, ascended the staircase, and searched every apartment in thehouse, but no human being was discoverable. The furniture was wretchedand scanty, but there was no proof that Monrose had fallen a victim tothe reigning disease. It was certain that the lady had disappeared. Itwas inconceivable whither she had gone.
Baxter suffered a long period of sickness.---The prevailing maladyappeared upon him in its severest form. His strength of constitution,and the careful attendance of his wife, were insufficient to rescue himfrom the grave. His case may be quoted as an example of the force ofimagination. He had probably already received, through the medium ofthe air, or by contact of which he was not conscious, the seeds of thisdisease. They might perhaps have lain dormant, had not this panicoccurred to endow them with activity.
Such were the facts circumstantially communicated by Sarah. Theyafforded to Constance a theme of ardent meditation. The similitudebetween her own destiny and that of this unhappy exile, could not failto be observed. Immersed in poverty, friendless, burthened with themaintenance and nurture of her father, their circumstances were nearlyparallel. The catastrophe of her tale, was the subject of endless butunsatisfactory conjecture.
She had disappeared between the flight of Baxter and the dawn ofday. What path had she taken? Was she now alive? Was she still aninhabitant of this city? Perhaps there was a coincidence of taste aswell as fortunes between them. The only friend that Constantia everenjoyed, congenial with her in principles, sex and age, was at adistance that forbad communication. She imagined that Ursula Monrosewould prove worthy of her love, and felt unspeakable regret at theimprobability of their ever meeting.
Meanwhile the dominion of cold began to be felt, and the contagiousfever entirely disappeared. The return of health was hailed withrapture, by all ranks of people. The streets were once more busy andfrequented. The sensation of present security seemed to shut out fromall hearts the memory of recent disasters. Public entertainments werethronged with auditors. A new theatre had lately been constructed, anda company of English Comedians had arrived during the prevalence of themalady. They now began their exhibitions, and their audiences wereoverflowing.
Such is the motly and ambiguous condition of human society, such isthe complexity of all effects from what cause soever they spring, thatnone can tell whether this destructive pestilence was, on the whole,productive of most pain or most pleasure. Those who had been sick andhad recovered, found, in this circumstance, a source of exultation.Others made haste, by new marriages, to supply the place of wives,husbands and children, whom the scarcely extinguished pestilence hadswept away.
Constance, however, was permitted to take no share in the generalfestivity. Such was the colour of her fate, that the yellow fever, byaffording her a respite from toil, supplying leisure for theacquisition of a useful branch of knowledge, and leading her to thediscovery of a cheaper, more simple, and more wholesome method ofsubsistence, had been friendly, instead of adverse, to her happiness.Its disappearance, instead of relieving her from suffering, was thesignal for the approach of new cares.
Of her ancient customers, some were dead, and others were slow inresuming their ancient habitations, and their ordinary habits.Meanwhile two wants were now created and were urgent. The seasondemanded a supply of fuel, and her rent had accumulated beyond herpower to discharge. M`Crea no sooner returned from the country, than heapplied to her for payment. Some proprietors, guided by humanity, hadremitted their dues, but M`Crea was not one of these. According to hisown representation, no man was poorer than himself, and the punctualpayment of all that was owing to him, was no more than sufficient toafford him a scanty subsistence.
He was aware of the indigence of the Dudleys, and was thereforeextremely importunate for payment, and could scarcely be prevailed uponto allow them the interval of a day, for the discovery of expedients.This day was passed by Constantia in fruitless anxieties. The ensuingevening had been fixed for a repetition of his visit. The hour arrived,but her invention was exhausted in vain. M`Crea was punctual to theminute. Constance was allowed no option. She merely declared that themoney demanded she had not to give, nor could she foresee any period atwhich her inability would be less than it then was
These declarations were heard by her visitant, with marks ofunspeakable vexation. He did not fail to expatiate on the equity of hisdemands, the moderation and forbearance he had hitherto shewn,notwithstanding the extreme urgency of his own wants, and theinflexible rigour with which he had been treated by his creditors. Thisrhetorick was merely the prelude to an intimation that he must availhimself of any lawful means, by which he might gain possession of hisown.
This insinuation was fully comprehended by Constance, but it washeard without any new emotions. Her knowledge of her landlord'scharacter taught her to expect but one consequence. He paused toobserve what effect would be produced by this indirect menace. Sheanswered, without any change of tone, that the loss of habitation andfurniture, however inconvenient at this season, must be patientlyendured. If it were to be prevented only by the payment of money, itsprevention was impossible.
M`Crea renewed his regrets that there should be no otheralternative. The law sanctioned his claims and justice to his family,which was already large, and likely to increase, required that theyshould not be relinquished, yet such was the mildness of his temper andhis aversion to proceed to this extremity, that he was willing todispense with immediate payment on two conditions. First, that theyshould leave his house within a week, and secondly, that they shouldput into his hands some trinket or moveable, equal in value to the sumdemanded, which should be kept by him as a pledge.
This last hint suggested an expedient for obviating the presentdistress. The lute with which Mr. Dudley was accustomed to solace hissolitude, was, if possible, more essential to his happiness thanshelter or food. To his daughter it possessed little direct power toplease. It was inestimable merely for her father's sake. Its intrinsicvalue was at least equal to the sum due, but to part with it was tobereave him of a good, which nothing else could supply. Besides, notbeing a popular and saleable instrument, it would probably becontemptuously rejected by the ignorance and avarice of M`Crea.
There was another article in her possession, of some value intraffic, and of a kind which M`Crea was far more likely to accept. Itwas the miniature portrait of her friend, executed by a German artist,and set in gold. This image was a precious though imperfect substitutefor sympathy and intercourse with the original. Habit had made thispicture a source of a species of idolatry. Its power over hersensations was similar to that possessed by a beautiful Madonna overthe heart of a juvenile enthusiast. It was the mother of the onlydevotion which her education had taught her to consider as beneficialor true.
She perceived the necessity of parting with it on this occasion,with the utmost clearness, but this necessity was thought upon withindescribable repugnance. It seemed as if she had not thoroughlyconceived the extent of her calamity till now. It seemed as if shecould have endured the loss of eyes with less reluctance than the lossof this inestimable relique. Bitter were the tears which she shed overit as she took it from her bosom, and consigned it to those rapacioushands, that were stretched out to receive it. She derived some littleconsolation from the promises of this man, that he would keep it safelytill she was able to redeem it.
The other condition, that of immediate removal from the house,seemed at first sight impracticable. Some reflection, however, shewedher, that the change might not only be possible but useful. Among otherexpedients for diminishing expence, that of limiting her furniture anddwelling to the cheapest standard, had often occurred. She nowremembered, that the house occupied by Monrose, was tenantless; thatits antiquity, its remote and unpleasant situation, and its smalldimensions, might induce M`Crea, to whom it belonged, to let it at amuch lower price than that which he now exacted. M`Crea would have beenbetter pleased if her choice had fallen on a different house, but hehad powerful though sordid reasons for desiring the possession of thistenement. He assented therefore to her proposal, provided her removaltook place without delay.
In the present state of her funds this removal was impossible. Mereshelter, would not suffice during this inclement season. Without fuel,neither cold could be excluded, nor hunger relieved. There was nothing,convertible into money, but her lute. No sacrifice was more painful,but an irresistible necessity demanded it.
Her interview with M`Crea took place while her father was absentfrom the room. On his return she related what had happened, and urgedthe necessity of parting with his favorite instrument. He listened toher tale with a sigh. Yes, said he, do what thou wilt, my child. It isunlikely that any one will purchase it. It is certain that no one willgive for it what I gave: but thou may'st try.
It has been to me a faithful friend. I know not how I should havelived without it. Its notes have cheered me with the sweet remembrancesof old times. It was, in some degree, a substitute for the eyes which Ihave lost, but now let it go, and perform for me perhaps the dearest ofits services. It may help us to sustain the severities of thisseason.
There was no room for delay. She immediately set out in search of apurchaser. Such an one was most likely to be found in the keeper of amusical repository, who had lately arrived from Europe. She entertainedbut slight hopes that an instrument, scarcely known among herneighbours, would be bought at any price, however inconsiderable.
She found the keeper of the shop engaged in conversation with alady, whose person and face instantly arrested the attention ofConstance. A less sagacious observer would have eyed the stranger withindifference. But Constance was ever busy in interpreting the languageof features and looks. Her sphere of observation had been narrow, buther habits of examining, comparing and deducing, had thoroughlyexhausted that sphere. These habits were eminently strong, withrelation to this class of objects. She delighted to investigate thehuman countenance, and treasured up numberless conclusions as to thecoincidence between mental and external qualities.
She had often been forcibly struck by forms that were accidentallyseen, and which abounded with this species of mute expression. Theyconveyed at a single glance, what could not be imparted by volumes. Thefeatures and shape sunk, as it were, into perfect harmony withsentiments and passions. Every atom of the frame was pregnant withsignificance. In some, nothing was remarkable but this power of theoutward figure to exhibit the internal sentiments. In others, theintelligence thus unveiled, was remarkable for its heterogenious orenergetic qualities; for its tendency to fill her heart with venerationor abhorrence, or to involve her in endless perplexities.
The accuracy and vividness with which pictures of this kindpresented themselves to her imagination, resembled the operations of asixth sense. It cannot be doubted, however, that much was owing to theenthusiastic tenor of her own conceptions, and that her conviction ofthe truth of the picture, principally flowed from the distinctness andstrength of its hues.
The figure which she now examined, was small but of exquisiteproportions. Her complexion testified the influence of a torrid sun,but the darkness veiled, without obscuring, the glowing tints of hercheek. The shade was remarkably deep, but a deeper still was requiredto become incompatible with beauty. Her features were irregular, butdefects of symmetry were amply supplied by eyes that anticipated speechand positions which conveyed that to which language was inadequate.
It was not the chief tendency of her appearance to seduce or tomelt. Her's were the polished cheek and the mutability of muscle, whichbelong to woman, but the genius conspicuous in her aspect, was heroicand contemplative. The female was absorbed, so to speak, in therational creature, and the emotions most apt to be excited in thegazer, partook less of love than of reverence.
Such is the portrait of this stranger, delineated by Constance. Icopy it with greater willingness, because if we substitute a noblerstature, and a complexion less uniform and delicate, it is suited, withthe utmost accuracy, to herself. She was probably unconscious of thisresemblance, but this circumstance may be supposed to influence her indiscovering such attractive properties in a form thus vaguely seen.These impressions, permanent and cogent as they were, were gained at asingle glance. The purpose which led her thither was too momentous tobe long excluded.
Why, said the master of the shop, this is lucky. Here is a lady whohas just been enquiring for an instrument of this kind. Perhaps the oneyou have will suit her. If you will bring it to me, I will examine it,and if it is compleat, will make a bargain with you.--He then turned tothe lady who had first entered, and a short dialogue in French ensuedbetween them. The man repeated his assurances to Constance, who,promising to hasten back with the instrument, took her leave. The lute,in its structure and ornaments, has rarely been surpassed. Whenscrutinized by this artist, it proved to be compleat, and the pricedemanded for it was readily given.
By this means the Dudleys were enabled to change their habitation,and to supply themselves with fuel. To obviate future exigences,Constantia betook herself, once more, to the needle. They persisted inthe use of their simple fare, and endeavoured to contract their wantsand methodize their occupations, by a standard as rigid as possible.She had not relinquished her design of adopting a new and more liberalprofession, but though, when indistinctly and generally considered, itseemed easily effected, yet the first steps which it would be proper totake, did not clearly or readily suggest themselves. For the presentshe was contented to pursue the beaten tract, but was prepared tobenefit by any occasion that time might furnish, suitable to theexecution of her plan.
It may be asked, if a woman of this character did not attract thenotice of the world. Her station, no less than her modes of thinking,excluded her from the concourse of the opulent and the gay. She keptherself in privacy, her engagements confined her to her own fire-side,and her neighbours enjoyed no means of penetrating through thatobscurity in which she wrapt herself. There were, no doubt, persons ofher own sex, capable of estimating her worth, and who could havehastened to raise so much merit from the indigence to which it wascondemned. She might, at least, have found associates and friends,justly entitled to her affection. But whether she were peculiarlyunfortunate in this respect, or whether it arose from a jealous andunbending spirit that would remit none of its claims to respect, andwas backward in its overtures to kindness and intimacy, it so happenedthat her hours were, for a long period, enlivened by no companion buther father and her faithful Lucy. The humbleness of her dwelling, herplain garb, and the meanness of her occupation, were no passports tothe favor of the rich and vain. These, added to her youth and beauty,frequently exposed her to insults, from which, though productive for atime of mortification and distress, she, for the most part, extricatedherself by her spirited carriage, and presence of mind.
One incident of this kind it will be necessary to mention. Oneevening her engagements carried her abroad. She had proposed to returnimmediately, finding by experience the danger that was to be dreaded bya woman young and unprotected. Somewhat occurred that unavoidablylengthened her stay, and she set out on her return at a late hour. Oneof the other sex offered her his guardianship, but this she declined,and proceeded homeward alone.
Her way lay through streets but little inhabited, and whose fewinhabitants were of the profligate class. She was conscious of theinconveniences to which she was exposed, and therefore tripped alongwith all possible haste. She had not gone far before she perceived,through the dusk, two men standing near a porch before her. She hadgone too far to recede or change her course without excitingobservation, and she flattered herself that the persons would be havewith decency. Encouraged by these reflections, and somewhat hasteningher pace, she went on. As soon as she came opposite the place wherethey stood, one of them threw himself round, and caught her arm,exclaiming, in a broad tone, "Whither so fast, my love, at this time ofnight?"---The other, at the same time, threw his arms round her waist,crying out, "A pretty prize, by G--: just in the nick of time."
They were huge and brawny fellows, in whose grasp her feeblestrength was annihilated. Their motions were so sudden, that she hadnot time to escape by flight. Her struggles merely furnished them witha subject of laughter. He that held her waist, proceeded to pollute hercheeks with his kisses, and drew her into the porch. He tore her fromthe grasp of him who first seized her, who seemed to think his propertyinvaded, and said, in a surly tone: "What now, Jemmy? Damn your heart,d'ye think I'll be fobbed. Have done with your slabbering, Jemmy. Firstcome, first served;" and seemed disposed to assert his claims byforce.
To this brutality, Constantia had nothing to oppose but fruitlessstruggles and shrieks for help. Succour was, fortunately, at hand. Herexclamations were heard by a person across the street, who instantlyran, and with some difficulty disengaged her from the grasp of theruffians. He accompanied her the rest of the way, bestowed on her everypolite attention, and, though pressed to enter the house, declined theinvitation. She had no opportunity of examining the appearance of hernew friend. This, the darkness of the night and her own panick,prevented.
Next day a person called upon her whom she instantly recognized tobe her late protector. He came with some message from his sister. Hismanners were simple and unostentatious, and breathed the genuine spiritof civility. Having performed his commission, and once more receivedthe thanks which she poured forth with peculiar warmth, for his lastnight's interposition, he took his leave.
The name of this man was Balfour. He was middle-aged, of a figureneither elegant nor ungainly, and an aspect that was mild and placid,but betrayed few marks of intelligence. He was an Adventurer fromScotland, whom a strict adherence to the maxims of trade had renderedopulent. He was governed by the principles of mercantile integrity inall his dealings, and was affable and kind, without being generous, inhis treatment of inferiors. He was a stranger to violent emotions ofany kind, and his intellectual acquisitions were limited to his ownprofession.
His demeanour was tranquil and uniform. He was sparing of words, andthese were uttered in the softest manner. In all his transactions, hewas sedate and considerate. In his dress and mode of living, there wereno appearances of parsimony, but there were, likewise, as few traces ofprofusion.
His sister had shared in his prosperity. As soon as his affairswould permit, he sent for her to Scotland, where she had lived in astate little removed from penury, and had for some years, been vestedwith the superintendance of his houshold. There was a considerableresemblance between them in person and character. Her profession, orthose arts in which her situation had compelled her to acquire skill,had not an equal tendency to enlarge the mind, as those of her brother,but the views of each were limited to one set of objects. Hissuperiority was owing, not to any inherent difference, but toaccident.
Balfour's life had been a model of chastness and regularity: thoughthis was owing more to constitutional coldness, and a frugal spirit,than to virtuous forbearance; but, in his schemes for the future, hedid not exclude the circumstance of marriage. Having attained asituation secure, as the nature of human affairs will admit, from thechances of poverty, the way was sufficiently prepared for matrimony.His thoughts had been for some time employed in the selection of asuitable companion, when this rencounter happened with Miss Dudley.
Balfour was not destitute of those feelings which are called intoplay by the sight of youth and beauty in distress. This incident wasnot speedily forgotten. The emotions produced by it were new to him. Hereviewed then oftener, and with more complacency, than any which he hadbefore experienced. They afforded him so much satisfaction, that, inorder to preserve them undiminished, he resolved to repeat his visit.Constantia treated him as one from whom she had received a considerablebenefit. Her sweetness and gentleness were uniform, and Balfour foundthat her humble roof promised him more happiness than his ownfire-side, or the society of his professional brethren.
He could not overlook, in the course of such reflections as these,the question relative to marriage, and speedily determined to solicitthe honor of her hand. He had not decided without his usual foresightand deliberation; nor had he been wanting in the accuracy of hisobservations and enquiries. Those qualifications, indeed, which were ofchief value in his eyes, lay upon the surface. He was no judge of herintellectual character, or of the loftiness of her morality. Not eventhe graces of person, or features, or manners, attracted much of hisattention. He remarked her admirable economy of time, and money, andlabour, the simplicity of her dress, her evenness of temper, and herlove of seclusion. These were essential requisites of a wife in hisapprehension. The insignificance of his own birth, the lowness of hisoriginal fortune, and the efficacy of industry and temperance to conferand maintain wealth, had taught him indifference as to birth or fortunein his spouse. His moderate desires in this respect were gratified, andhe was anxious only for a partner that would aid him in preserving,rather than in enlarging his property. He esteemed himself eminentlyfortunate in meeting with one in whom every matrimonial qualificationconcentred.
He was not deficient in modesty, but he fancied that, on thisoccasion, there was no possibility of miscarriage. He held her capacityin deep veneration, but this circumstance rendered him more secure ofsuccess. He conceived this union to be even more eligible with regardto her than to himself; and confided in the rectitude of herunderstanding, for a decision favorable to his wishes.
Before any express declaration was made, Constantia easily predictedthe event from the frequency of his visits, and the attentiveness ofhis manners. It was no difficult task to ascertain this man'scharacter. Her modes of thinking were, in few respects, similar tothose of her lover. She was eager to investigate, in the first place,the atrributes of his mind. His professional and household maxims werenot of inconsiderable importance, but they were subordinateconsiderations. In the poverty of his discourse and ideas, she quicklyfound reasons for determining her conduct.
Marriage she had but little considered, as it is in itself. What arethe genuine principles of that relation, and what conduct with respectto it, is prescribed to rational beings, by their duty, she had nothitherto investigated: But she was not backward to enquire what are theprecepts of duty, in her own particular case. She knew herself to beyoung; she was sensible of the daily enlargement of her knowledge;every day contributed to rectify some error or confirm some truth.These benefits she owed to her situation, which, whatever were itsevils, gave her as much freedom from restraint as is consistent withthe state of human affairs. Her poverty fettered her exertions, andcircumscribed her pleasures. Poverty, therefore, was an evil, and thereverse of poverty to be desired. But riches were not barren ofconstraint, and its advantages might be purchased at too dear arate.
Allowing that the wife is enriched by marriage, how humiliating werethe conditions annexed to it in the present case? The company of onewith whom we have no sympathy, nor sentiments in common, is, of allspecies of solitude, the most loathsome and dreary. The nuptual life isattended with peculiar aggravations, since the tie is infrangible, andthe choice of a more suitable companion, if such an one should offer,is for ever precluded. The hardships of wealth are not incompensated bysome benefits, but these benefits, false and hollow as they are, cannotbe obtained by marriage. Her acceptance of Balfour would merelyaggravate her indigence.
Now she was at least mistress of the product of her own labour. Hertasks were toilsome, but the profits, though slender, were sure, andshe administered her little property in what manner she pleased.Marriage would annihilate this power. Henceforth she would be berefteven of personal freedom. So far from possessing property, she herselfwould become the property of another.
She was not unaware of the consequences flowing from differences ofcapacity; and, that power, to whomsoever legally granted, will beexercised by the most addressful; but she derived no encouragement fromthese considerations. She would not stoop to gain her end by thehateful arts of the sycophant; and was too wise to place an unboundedreliance on the influence of truth. The character, likewise, of thisman sufficiently exempted him from either of those influences.
She did not forget the nature of the altar-vows. To abdicate the useof her own understanding, was scarcely justifiable in any case, but tovow an affection that was not felt, and could not be compelled, and topromise obedience to one, whose judgment was glaringly defective, wereacts atrociously criminal. Education, besides, had created in her aninsurmountable abhorrence of admitting to conjugal privileges, the manwho had no claim upon her love. It could not be denied that a state ofabundant accommodation was better than the contrary, but thisconsideration, though in the most rational estimate, of some weight,she was not so depraved and effeminate as to allow to overweigh theopposite evils. Homely liberty was better than splendid servitude.
Her resolution was easily formed, but there were certain impedimentsin the way of its execution. These chiefly arose from deference to theopinion, and compassion for the infirmities of her father. He assumedno controul over her actions. His reffections in the present case, wererather understood than expressed. When uttered it was with the mildnessof equality, and the modesty of persuasion. It was this circumstancethat conferred upon them all their force. His decision, on so delicatea topic, was not wanting in sagacity and moderation; but, as a man, hehad his portion of defects, and his frame was enfeebled by disease andcare; yet he set no higher value on the ease and independance of hisformer condition, than any man of like experience. He could not endureto exist on the fruits of his daughter's labour. He ascribed herdecision to a spirit of excessive refinement, and was, of course,disposed to give little quarter to maiden scruples. They were phantoms,he believed, which experience would dispel. His morality, besides, wasof a much more flexible kind; and the marriage vows were, in hisopinion, formal and unmeaning, and neither in themselves, nor in theapprehension of the world, accompanied with any rigorous obligation. Hedrew more favorable omens from the known capacity of his daughter, andthe flexibility of her lover.
She demanded his opinion and advice. She listened to his reasonings,and revolved them with candour and impartiality. She stated herobjections with simplicity, but the difference of age and sex wassufficient to preclude agreement. Arguments were of no use but toprolong the debate; but, happily, the magnanimity of Mr. Dudley wouldadmit of no sacrifice. Her opinions, it is true, were erroneous; but hewas willing that she should regulate her conduct by her own conceptionsof right, and not by those of another. To refuse Balfour's offers wasan evil; but an evil inexpressibly exceeded by that of accepting themcontrary to her own sense of propriety.
Difficulties, likewise, arose from the consideration of what was dueto the man who had already benefited her, and who, in this act,intended to confer upon her further benefit. These, though the sourceof some embarrassments, were not sufficient to shake her resolution.Balfour could not understand her principal objections. They were of asize altogether disproportioned to his capacity. Her moral speculationswere quite beyond the sphere of his reflections. She could notexpatiate, without a breach of civility, on the disparity of theirminds, and yet this was the only or principal ground on which she hadcrected her scruples.
Her father loved her too well not to be desirous of relieving herfrom a painful task, though undertaken without necessity, and contraryto his opinion. Refer him to me, said he; I will make the best of thematter, and render your refusal as palatable as possible, but do youauthorize me to make it absolute, and without appeal?--
My dear father! how good you are! but that shall be my province. IfI err, let the consequences of my mistake be confined to myself. Itwould be cruel indeed, to make you the instrument in a transactionwhich your judgment disapproves. My reluctance was a weak and foolishthing. Strange, indeed, if the purity of my motives will not bear meout on this, as it has done on many more arduous occasions.--
Well, be it so; that is best I believe. Ten to one but I, with mywant of eyes, would blunder, while yours will be of no small use, in acontest with a lover. They will serve you to watch the transitions inhis placid physiognomy, and overpower his discontents.
She was aware of the inconveniences to which this resolution wouldsubject her, but since they were unavoidable, she armed herself withthe requisite patience. Her apprehensions were not without reason. Morethan one conference was necessary to convince him of her meaning, andin order to effect her purpose, she was obliged to behave with so muchexplicitness, as to hazard giving him offence. This affair wasproductive of no small vexation. He had put too much faith in thevalidity of his pretensions, and the benefits of perseverance, to beeasily shaken off.
This decision was not borne by him with as much patience as shewished. He deemed himself unjustly treated, and his resentment exceededthose bounds of moderation which he prescribed to himself on all otheroccasions. From his anger, however, there was not much to be dreaded,but, unfortunately, his sister partook of his indignation and indulgedher petulance, which was enforced by every gossiping and tatlingpropensity, to the irreparable disadvantage of Constantia.
She owed her support to her needle. She was dependant therefore onthe caprice of customers. This caprice was swayable by every breath,and paid a merely subordinate regard, in the choice of workwomen, tothe circumstances of skill, cheapness and diligence. In consequence ofthis, her usual sources of subsistence began to fail.
Indigence, as well as wealth, is comparative. He, indeed, must bewretched, whose food, cloathing and shelter are limited, both in kindand quantity, by the standard of mere necessity; who, in the choice offood, for example, is governed by no consideration but its cheapness,and its capacity to sustain nature. Yet to this degree of wretchednesswas Miss Dudley reduced.
As her means of subsistence began to decay, she reflected on thechange of employment that might become necessary. She was mistress ofno Iucrative art, but that which now threatened to be useless. Therewas but one avenue through which she could hope to escape from thepressure of absolute want. This, she regarded with an aversion, thatnothing but extreme necessity, and the failure of every otherexpedient, would be able to subdue. This was the hiring herself as aservant. Even that could not answer all her purposes. If a subsistencewere provided by it for herself, whither should her father, and herLucy betake themselves for support.
Hitherto her labour had been sufficient to shut out famine and thecold. It is true she had been cut off from all the direct means ofpersonal or mental gratification: But her constitution had exempted herfrom the insalutary effects of sedentary application. She could nottell how long she could enjoy this exemption, but it was absurd toanticipate those evils which might never arrive. Meanwhile, hersituation was not destitute of comfort. The indirect means ofintellectual improvement, in conversation and reflection, theinexpensive amusement of singing, and, above all, the consciousness ofperforming her duty, and maintaining her independance inviolate, werestill in her possession. Her lodging was humble, and her fare frugal,but these, temperance and a due regard to the use of money, wouldrequire from the most opulent.
Now, retrenchments must be made even from this penurious provision.Her exertions might somewhat defer, but could not prevent the ruin ofher unhappy family. Their landlord was a severe exacter of his dues.The day of quarterly payment was past, and he had not failed in hisusual punctuality. She was unable to satisfy his demands, and Mr.Dudley was officially informed, that unless payment was made before aday fixed, resort would be had to the law, in that case made andprovided.
This seemed to be the completion of their misfortunes. It was notenough to soften the implacability of their landlord. A respite mightpossibly be obtained from this harsh sentence. Intreaties might prevailupon him to allow of their remaining under this roof for some timelonger; but shelter at this inclement season was not enough. Withoutfire they must perish with the cold; and fuel could be procured onlyfor money, of which the last shilling was expended. Food was no lessindispensible, and, their credit being gone, not a loaf could beextorted from the avarice of the bakers in the neighbourhood.
The sensations produced by this accumulation of distress may be moreeasily conceived than described. Mr. Dudley sunk into despair, whenLucy informed him that the billet of wood she was putting on the firewas the last. Well, said he, the game is up. Where is mydaughter?---The answer was, that she was up stairs.
Why, there she has been this hour. Tell her to come down and warmherself. She must needs be cold and here is a cheerful blaze. I feel itmyself. Like the lightning that precedes death, it beams thus brightly,though, in a few moments, it will be extinguished forever. Let mydarling come, and partake of its comforts before they expire.
Constantia had retired in order to review her situation, and devisesome expedients that might alleviate it. It was a sore extremity towhich she was reduced. Things had come to a desperate pass, and theremedy required must be no less desperate. It was impossible to see herfather perish. She herself would have died before she would havecondescended to beg. It was not worth prolonging a life which mustsubsist upon alms. She would have wandered into the fields at dusk,have seated herself upon an unfrequented bank, and serenely waited theapproach of that death, which the rigours of the season would haverendered sure. But, as it was, it became her to act in a very differentmanner.
During her father's prosperity, some mercantile intercourse hadtaken place between him and a merchant of this city. The latter, onsome occasion, had spent a few nights at her father's house. She wasgreatly charmed with the humanity that shone forth in his conversationand behaviour. From that time to this, all intercourse had ceased. Shewas acquainted with the place of his abode, and knew him to beaffluent. To him she determined to apply as a suppliant in behalf ofher father. She did not inform Mr. Dadley of this intention, conceivingit best to wait till the event had been ascertained, for fear ofexciting fallacious expectations. She was further deterred by theapprehension of awakening his pride, and bringing on herself anabsolute prohibition.
She arrived at the door of Mr. Melbourne's house, and enquiring forthe master of it, was informed that he had gone out of town, and wasnot expected to return within a week.
Her scheme, which was by no means unplausible, was thus compleatlyfrustrated. There was but one other resource, on which she had alreadydeliberated, and to which she had determined to apply, if that shouldfail. That was to claim assistance from the superintendants of thepoor. She was employed in considering to which of them, and in whatmanner she should make her application, when she turned the corner ofLombard and Second Streets. That had scarcely been done, when, castingher eyes mournfully round her, she caught a glimpse of a person whomshe instantly recognized, passing into the market-place. She followedhim with quick steps, and, on a second examination, found that she hadnot been mistaken. This was no other than Thomas Craig, to whosemalignity and cunning, all her misfortunes were imputable.
She was at first uncertain what use to make of this discovery. Shefollowed him almost instinctively, and saw him at length enter theIndian Queen Tavern. Here she stopped. She entertained a confusedconception, that some beneficial consequences might be extracted fromthis event. In the present hurry of her thoughts she could form nosatisfactory conclusion: But it instantly occurred to her that itwould, at least be proper to ascertain the place of his abode. Shestept into the inn, and made the suitable enquiries. She was informedthat the gentleman had come from Baltimore, a month before, and hadsince resided at that house. How soon he meant to leave the city, herinformant was unable to tell.
Having gained this intelligence, she returned home, and once moreshut herself in her chamber to meditate on this new posture ofaffairs.
Craig was indebted to her father. He had defrauded him by the mostattrocious and illicit arts. On either account he was liable toprosecution, but her heart rejected the thought of being the author ofinjury to any man. The dread of punishment, however, might induce himto refund, uncoercively, the whole or some part of the stolen property.Money was at this moment necessary to existence, and she conceivedherself justly entitled to that, of which her father had beenperfidiously despoiled.
But the law was formal and circuitous. Money itself was necessary topurchase its assistance. Besides, it could not act with unseen virtueand instantaneous celerity. The co-operation of advocates and officerswas required. They must be visited, and harangued, and importuned. Wasshe adequate to the task? Would the energy of her mind supply the placeof experience, and, with a sort of miraculous efficacy, afford her theknowledge of official processes and dues? As little, on this occasion,could be expected from her father, as from her. He was infirm andblind. The spirit that animated his former days was flown. His heart'sblood was chilled by the rigours of his fortune. He had discarded hisindignation and his enmities, and, together with them, hope itself hadperished in his bosom. He waited in tranquil despair, for that strokewhich would deliver him from life, and all the woes that itinherits.
But these considerations were superfluous. It was enough thatjustice must be bought, and that she had not the equivalent. Legalproceedings are encumbered with delay, and her necessities were urgent.Succour, if withheld till the morrow, would be useless. Hunger and coldwould not be trifled with. What resource was there left in this heruttermost distress? Must she yield, in imitation of her father, to thecowardly suggestions of despair?
Craig might be rich. His coffers might be stuffed with thousands.All that he had, according to the principles of social equity, washer's; yet he, to whom nothing belonged, rioted in superfluity, whileshe, the rightful claimant, was driven to the point of utmost need. Theproper instrument of her restoration was law, but its arm waspowerless, for she had not the means of bribing it into activity. Butwas law the only instrument?
Craig, perhaps, was accessible. Might she not, with propriety,demand an interview, and lay before him the consequences of hisbaseness? He was not divested of the last remains of humanity. It wasimpossible that he should not relent at the picture of those distressesof which he was the author. Menaces of legal prosecution she meant notto use, because she was unalterably resolved against that remedy. Sheconfided in the efficacy of her pleadings to awaken his justice. Thisinterview she was determined immediately to seek. She was aware that bysome accident her purpose might be frustrated. Access to his person,might, for the present, be impossible, or might be denied. It wasproper therefore to write him a letter, which might be substituted inplace of an interview. It behoved her to be expeditious, for the lightwas failing, and her strength was nearly exhausted by the hurry of herspirits. Her fingers, likewise, were benumbed with the cold. Sheperformed her task, under these disadvantages, with much difficulty.This was the purport of her letter:
Letter
Thomas Craig.
An hour ago I was in Second-Street, and saw you. I followed you tillyou entered the Indian Queen-Tavern. Knowing where you are, I am nowpreparing to demand an interview. I may be disappointed in this hope,and therefore write you this.
I do not come to upbraid you, to call you to a legal, or any otheraccount for your actions. I presume not to weigh your merits. The Godof cquity be your judge. May he be as merciful, in the hour ofretribution, as I am disposed to be.
It is only to inform you that my father is on the point of perishingwith want. You know who it was that reduced him to this condition. Ipersuade myself I shall not appeal to your justice in vain. Learn ofthis justice to afford him instant succour.
You know who it was that took you in, an houseless wanderer;protected and fostered your youth, and shared with you his confidenceand his fortune. It is he who now, blind and indigent, is threatened,by an inexorable landlord, to be thrust into the street; and who is, atthis moment, without fire and without bread.
He once did you some little service: now he looks to be compensated.All the retribution he asks, is to be saved from perishing. Surely youwill not spurn at his claims. Thomas Craig has done nothing that shewshim dcaf to the cries of distress. He would relieve a dog from suchsuffering.
Forget that you have known my father in any character but that of asupplicant for bread. I promise you that, on this condition, I, also,will forget it. If you are so far just, you have nothing to fear. Yourproperty and reputation shall both be safe. My father knows not of yourbeing in this city. His enmities are extinct, and if you comply withthis request, he shall know you only as a benefactor.
C. Dudley.
Having finished and folded this epistle, she once more returned tothe tavern. A waiter informed her that Craig had lately been in, andwas now gone out to spend the evening. Whither had he gone? sheasked.
How was he to know where gentlemen eat their suppers? Did she takehim for a witch? What, in God's name, did she want with him at thathour? Could she not wait, at least, till he had done his supper? Hewarranted her pretty face would bring him home time enough.
Constantia was not disconcerted at this address. She knew thatfemales are subjected, through their own ignorance and cowardice, to athousand mortifications. She set its true value on base and low-mindedtreatment. She disdained to notice this ribaldry, but turned away fromthe servant to meditate on this disappointment.
A few moments after, a young fellow smartly dressed, entered theapartment. He was immediately addressed by the other, who said to him,Well, Tom, where's your master. There's a lady wants him, pointing toConstantia, and laying a grinning emphasis on the word lady. She turnedto the new-comer: Friend, are you Mr. Craig's servant?
The fellow seemed somewhat irritated at the bluntness of herinterrogatory. The appellation of servant sat uneasily, perhaps, on hispride, especially as coming from a person of her appearance. He put onan air of familiar ridicule, and surveyed her in silence. She resumed,in an authoritative tone, where does Mr. Craig spend this evening? Ihave business with him of the highest importance, and that will notbear delay. I must see him this night.--He seemed preparing to makesome impertinent answer, but she anticipated it. You had better answerme with decency. If you do not, your master shall hear of it.
This menace was not ineffectual. He began to perceive himself in thewrong, and surlily muttered, Why, if you must know, he is gone to Mr.'s. And where lived Mr. Ormond? In Arch-Street; he mentioned the numberon her questioning him to that effect.
Being furnished with this information, she left them. Her projectwas not to be thwarted by slight impediments, and she forthwithproceeded to 's dwelling. Who was this Ormond? she enquired of herselfas she went along: whence originated, and of what nature is theconnection between him and Craig? Are they united by union of designsand sympathy of character, or is this stranger a new subject on whomCraig is practising his arts? The last supposition is not impossible.Is it not my duty to disconcert his machinations, and save a new victimfrom his treachery? But I ought to be sure before I act. He may now behonest, or tending to honesty, and my interference may cast himbackward, or impede his progress.
The house to which she had been directed was spacious andmagnificent. She was answered by a servant, whose uniform was extremelysingular and fanciful, and whose features and accents bespoke him to beEnglish, with a politeness to which she knew that the simplicity of hergarb gave her no title. Craig, he told her, was in the drawing-roomabove stairs. He offered to carry him any message, and ushered her,meanwhile, into a parlour. She was surprized at the splendour of theroom. The ceiling was painted with a gay design, the walls stuccoed inrelief, and the floor covered with a Persian carpet, with suitableaccompaniments of mirrors, tables and sofas.
Craig had been seated at the window above. His suspicions were everon the watch. He suddenly espied a figure and face on the opposite sideof the street, which an alteration of garb and the improvements oftime, could not conceal from his knowledge. He was startled at thisincident, without knowing the extent of its consequences. He saw hercross the way opposite this house, and immediately after heard the bellring. Still he was not aware that he himself was the object of thisvisit, and waited, with some degree of impatience, for the issue ofthis adventure.
Presently he was summoned to a person below, who wished to see him.The servant shut the door, as soon as he had delivered the message, andretired.
Craig was thrown into considerable perplexity. It was seldom that hewas wanting in presence of mind and dexterity, but the unexpectednessof this incident, made him pause. He had not forgotten the awful charmsof his summoner. He shrunk at the imagination of her rebukes. Whatpurpose could be answered by admitting her? It was, undoubtedly, safestto keep at a distance, but what excuse should be given for refusingthis interview? He was roused from his reverie by a second and moreurgent summons. The person could not conveniently wait; her businesswas of the utmost moment, and would detain him but a few minutes.
The anxiety which was thus expressed to see him, only augmented hissolicitude to remain invisible. He had papers before him which he hadbeen employed in examining. This suggested an excuse. Tell her that Iam engaged just now, and cannot possibly attend to her. Let her leaveher business. If she has any message you may bring it to me.
It was plain to Constance that Craig suspected the purpose of hervisit. This might have come to his knowledge by means impossible forher to divine. She now perceived the wisdom of the precaution she hadtaken. She gave her letter to the servant with this message: Tell him Ishall wait here for an answer, and continue to wait till I receiveone.
Her mind was powerfully affected by the criticalness of hersituation. She had gone thus far, and saw the necessity of persistingto the end. The goal was within view, and she formed a sort ofdesperate determination not to relinquish the pursuit. She could notoverlook the possibility that he might return no answer, or return anunsatisfactory one. In either case, she was resolved to remain in thehouse till driven from it by violence. What other resolution could sheform? To return to her desolate home, penniless, was an idea not to beendured.
The letter was received, and perused. His conscience was touched,but compunction was a guest, whose importunities he had acquired apeculiar facility of eluding. Here was a liberal offer. A price was setupon his impunity. A small sum, perhaps, would secure him from allfuture molestation.--She spoke, to be sure, in a damned high tone.'Twas a pity that the old man should be hungry before snpper-time.Blind too! Harder still, when he cannot find his way to his mouth. Rentunpaid, and a flinty-hearted landlord. A pretty pickle to be sure.Instant payment she says. Won't part without it. Must come down withthe stuff. I know this girl: When her heart is once set upon a thing,all the devils will not turn her out of her way. She promises silence.I can't pretend to bargain with her. I'd as lief be ducked, as meet herface to face. I know she'll do what she promises. That was always hergrand failing. How the little witch talks! Just the dreamer she everwas! Justice! Compassion! Stupid fool! One would think she'd learnedsomething of the world by this time.
He took out his pocket book. Among the notes it contained the lowestwas fifty dollars. This was too much, yet there was no alternative,something must be given. She had detected his abode, and he knew it wasin the power of the Dudleys to ruin his reputation, and obstruct hispresent schemes. It was probable, that if they should exert themselves,their cause would find advocates and patrons. Still the gratuitous giftof fifty dollars, sat uneasily upon his avarice. One idea occurred toreconcile him to the gift. There was a method he conceived of procuringthe repayment of it with interest. He inclosed the note in a blankpiece of paper and sent it to her.
She received the paper, and opened it with trembling fingers. Whenshe saw what were its contents, her feelings amounted to rapture. A sumlike this was affluence to her in her present condition. At least itwould purchase present comfort and security. Her heart glowed withexultation, and she seemed to tread with the lightness of air, as shehied homeward. The langour of a long fast, the numbness of the cold,were forgotten. It is worthy of remark how much of human accommodationwas comprized within this small compass; and how sudden was thistransition from the verge of destruction to the summit of security.
Her first business was to call upon her landlord and pay him hisdemand. On her return she discharged the little debts she had beenobliged to contract, and purchased what was immediately necessary. Woodshe could borrow from her next neighbour, and this she was willing todo, now that she had the prospect of repaying it.
On leaving Mr. 's house, Constance was met by that gentleman. He sawher as she came out, and was charmed with the simplicity of herappearance. On entering, he interrogated the servant as to the businessthat brought her thither.
So, said he, as he entered the drawing-room, where Craig was seated,you have had a visitant. She came, it seems, on a pressing occasion,and would be put off with nothing but a letter.
Craig had not expected this address, but it only precipitated theexecution of a design that he had formed. Being aware of this orsimilar accidents, he had constructed and related on a previousoccasion to , a story suitable to his purpose.
Aye, said he, in a tone of affected compassion, it is a sad affairenough. I am sorry 'tis not in my power to help the poor girl. She iswrong in imputing her father's misfortunes to me, but I know the sourceof her mistake. Would to heaven it was in my power to repair the wrongsthey have suffered, not from me, but from one whose relationship is adisgrace to me.
Perhaps, replied the other, you are willing to explain thisaffair.
Yes, I wish to explain it. I was afraid of some such accident asthis. An explanation is due to my character. I have already told you mystory. I mentioned to you a brother of mine. There is scarcely thirteenmonths difference in our ages. There is a strong resemblance betweenhim and me, in our exterior, though I hope there is none at all in ourminds. This brother was a partner of a gentleman, the father of thisgirl, at New-York. He was, a long time, nothing better than anapprentice to Mr. Dudley, but he advanced so much in the good graces ofhis master, that he finally took him into partnership. I did not knowtill I arrived on the continent, the whole of his misconduct. Itappears that he embezzled the property of the house, and fled away withit, and the consequence was, that his quondam master was ruined. I amoften mistaken for my brother, to my no small inconvenience: but allthis I told you formerly. See what a letter I just now received fromthis girl.
Craig was one of the most plausible of men. His character was astanding proof of the vanity of physiognomy. There were few men whocould refuse their confidence to his open and ingenuous aspect. To thiscircumstance, perhaps, he owed his ruin. His temptations to deceivewere stronger than what are incident to most other men. Deception wasso easy a task, that the difficulty lay, not in infusing false opinionsrespecting him, but in preventing them from being spontaneouslyimbibed. He contracted habits of imposture imperceptibly. In proportionas he deviated from the practice of truth, he discerned the necessityof extending and systematizing his efforts, and of augmenting theoriginal benignity and attractiveness of his looks, by studiedadditions. The further he proceeded, the more difficult it was toreturn. Experience and habit added daily to his speciousness, till atlength, the world perhaps might have been searched in vain for hiscompetitor.
He had been introduced to under the most favorable auspices. He hadprovided against a danger which he knew to be imminent, by relating hisown story as if it were his brother's. He had, however, made variousadditions to it, serving to aggravate the heinousness of his guilt.This arose partly from policy, and partly from the habit of lying,which was prompted by a fertile invention, and rendered inveterate byincessant exercise. He interwove in his tale, an intrigue between MissDudley and his brother. The former was seduced, and this man hademployed his skill in chirographical imitation, in composing lettersfrom Miss Dudley to his brother, which sufficiently attested herdishonor. He and his brother, he related, to have met in Jamaica, wherethe latter died, by which means his personal property and papers cameinto his possession.
read the letter which his companion presented to him on thisoccasion. The papers which Craig had formerly permitted him to inspect,had made him familiar with her hand-writing. The penmanship was,indeed, similar, yet this was written in a spirit not quite congenialwith that which had dictated her letters to her lover. But he reflectedthat the emergency was extraordinary, and that the new scenes throughwhich she had passed, had, perhaps, enabled her to retreave her virtueand enforce it. The picture which she drew of her father's distresses,affected him and his companion very differently. He pondered on it forsome time, in silence; he then looked up, and with his usual abruptnesssaid, I suppose you gave her something?
No. I was extremely sorry that it was not in my power. I havenothing but a little trifling silver about me. I have no more at homethan will barely suffice to pay my board here, and my expenses toBaltimore. Till I reach there I cannot expect a supply. I was lessuneasy I confess, on this account, because I knew you to be equallywilling and much more able to afford the relief she asks.
This, Mr. had predetermined to do. He paused only to deliberate inwhat manner it could, with most propriety, be done. He was alwayswilling, when he conferred benefits, to conceal the author. He was notdispleased when gratitude was misplaced, and readily allowed hisinstruments to act as if they were principals. He questioned not theveracity of Craig, and was, therefore, desirous to free him from themolestation that was threatened in the way which had been prescribed.He put a note of one hundred dollars into his hand, and enjoined him tosend it to the Dudleys that evening, or early the next morning. I ampleased, he added, with the style of this letter: It can be of noservice to you; leave it in my possession.
Craig would much rather have thrown it into the fire; but he knewthe character of his companion, and was afraid to make any objection tohis request. He promised to send, or carry the note, the next morning,before he set out on his intended journey.
This journey was to Baltimore, and was undertaken so soon merely tooblige his friend, who was desirous of remitting to Baltimore aconsiderable sum in English guineas, and who had been for some time insearch of one who might execute this commission with fidelity. Theoffer of Craig had been joyfully accepted, and next morning had beenthe time fixed for his departure, a period the most opportune forCraig's designs, that could be imagined.--To return to Miss Dudley.
The sum that remained to her after the discharge of her debts, wouldquickly be expended. It was no argument of wisdom to lose sight of thefuture in the oblivion of present care. The time would inevitably comewhen new resources would be necessary. Every hour brought nearer theperiod without facilitating the discovery of new expedients. Sherelated the recent adventure to her father. He acquiesced in thepropriety of her measures, but the succour that she had thus obtainedconsoled him but little. He saw how speedily it would again berequired, and was hopeless of a like fortunate occurrence.
Some days had elapsed, and Constantia had been so fortunate as toprocure some employment. She was thus engaged in the evening when theywere surprised by a visit from their landlord. This was an occurrencethat foreboded them no good. He entered with abruptness and scarcelynoticed the salutations that he received. His bosom swelled withdiscontent, which seemed ready to be poured out upon his twocompanions. To the enquiry as to the condition of his health and thatof his family, he surlily answered; Nevermind how I am: None the betterfor my tenants I think. Never was a man so much plagued as I have been;what with one putting me off from time to time: What with anotherquarrelling about terms, and denying his agreement, and another runningaway in my debt, I expect nothing but to come to poverty, God help me,at last: but this was the worst of all. I was never before treated soin all my life. I don't know what or when I shall get to the end of mytroubles. To be fobbed out of my rent and twenty five dollars into thebargain! It is very strange treatment, I assure you, Mr. Dudley.
What is it you mean? replied that gentleman. You have received yourdues, and---
Received my dues, indeed! High enough too! I have received none ofmy dues. I have been imposed upon. I have been put to very greattrouble and expect some compensation. There is no knowing the characterof one's tenants. There is nothing but knavery in the world, one wouldthink. I'm sure no man has suffered more by bad tenants than I have.But this is the strangest treatment I ever met with. Very strangeindeed Dudley, and I must be paid without delay. To lose my rent andtwenty five dollars into the bargain, is too hard. I never met with theequal of it, not I: Besides, I wou'dn't be put to all this trouble fortwice the sum.
What does all this mean, Mr. M'Crea? You seem inclined to scold, butI cannot conceive why you came here for that purpose. This behaviour isimproper--
No, its very proper, and I want payment of my money. Fifty dollarsyou owe me. Miss comes to me to pay me my rent as I thought. She bringsme a fifty dollar note; I changes it for her, for I thought to be sure,I was quite safe: but, behold, when I sends it to the bank to get themoney, they sends me back word that it's forged, and calls on me,before a magistrate to tell them where I got it from. I'm sure I neverwas so flustered in my life. I would not have such a thing for tentimes the sum.
He proceeded to descant on his loss without any interruption fromhis auditors, whom this intelligence had struck dumb. Mr. Dudleyinstantly saw the origin, and full extent of this misfortune. He was,nevertheless, calm, and indulged in no invectives against Craig. It isall of a piece, said he: Our ruin is inevitable. Well, then, let itcome.
After M'Crea had railed himself weary, he flung out of the house,warning them that, next morning he should destrain for his rent, and,at the same time, sue them for the money that Constance had received inexchange for her note.
Miss Dudley was unable to pursue her task. She laid down her needle,and fixed her eyes upon her father. They had been engaged in earnestdiscourse when their landlord entered. Now there was a pause ofprofound silence, till the affectionate Lucy, who sufficientlycomprehended this scene, gave vent to her affliction in sobs. Hermistress turned to her:
Cheer up, my Lucy. We shall do well enough my girl. Our state is badenough, without doubt, but despair will make it worse.
The anxiety that occupied her mind related less to herself, than toher father. He, indeed, in the present instance, was exposed toprosecution. It was he who was answerable for the debt, and whoseperson would be thrown into durance by the suit that was menaced. Thehorrors of a prison had not hitherto been experienced, or anticipated.The worst evil that she had imagined was inexpressibly inferior tothis. The idea had in it something of terrific and loathsome. The meresupposition of its being possible was not to be endured. If all otherexpedients should fail, she thought of nothing less than desperateresistance. No. It was better to die than to go to prison.
For a time, she was deserted of her admirable equanimity. This nodoubt, was the result of surprise. She had not yet obtained thecalmness necessary to deliberation. During this gloomy interval, shewould, perhaps, have adopted any scheme, however dismal and atrocious,which her father's despair might suggest. She would not refuse toterminate her own and her father's unfortunate existence, by poison orthe chord.
This confusion of mind could not exist long. It gradually gave placeto cheerful prospects. The evil perhaps was not without its timelyremedy. The person whom she had set out to visit, when her course wasdiverted by Craig, she once more resolved to apply to; to lay beforehim, without reserve, her father's situation, to entreat pecuniarysuccour, and to offer herself as a servant in his family, or in that ofany of his friends who stood in need of one. This resolution, in aslight degree, consoled her; but her mind had been too thoroughlydisturbed to allow her any sleep during that night.
She equipped herself betimes, and proceeded with a doubting heart tothe house of Mr. Melbourne. She was informed that he had risen, but wasnever to be seen at so early an hour. At nine o'clock he would bedisengaged, and she would be admitted. In the present state of heraffairs, this delay was peculiarly unwelcome. At breakfast, hersuspense and anxieties would not allow her to eat a morsal, and whenthe hour approached, she prepared herself for a new attempt.
As she went out, she met at the door a person whom she recognized,and whose office she knew to be that of a constable. Constantia hadexercised, in her present narrow sphere, that beneficence which she hadformerly exerted in a larger. There was nothing, consistent with herslender means, that she did not willingly perform for the service ofothers. She had not been sparing of consolation and personal aid inmany cases of personal distress that had occurred in her neighbourhood.Hence, as far as she was known, she was reverenced.
The wife of their present visitant had experienced her succour andsympathy, on occasion of the death of a favorite child. The man,notwithstanding his office, was not of a rugged or ungrateful temper.The task that was now imposed upon him, he undertook with extremereluctance. He was somewhat reconciled to it by the reflection thatanother might not perform it with that gentleness and lenity which hefound in himself a disposition to exercise on all occasions, butparticularly on the present.
She easily guessed at his business, and having greeted him with theutmost friendliness, returned with him into the house. She endeavouredto remove the embarrassment that hung about him, but in vain. Havinglevied what the law very properly calls a distress, he proceeded, aftermuch hesitation, to inform Dudley that he was charged with a messagefrom a Magistrate, summoning him to come forthwith, and account forhaving a forged bank-note in his possession.
M'Crea had given no intimation of this. The painful surprise that itproduced, soon yielded to a just view of this affair. Temporaryinconvenience and vexation was all that could be dreaded from it. Mr.Dudley hated to be seen or known. He usually walked out in the dusk ofevening, but limited his perambulations to a short space: At all othertimes, he was obstinately recluse. He was easily persuaded by hisdaughter to allow her to perform this unwelcome office in his stead. Hehad not received, nor even seen the note. He would have willinglyspared her the mortification of a judicial examination, but he knewthat this was unavoidable. Should he comply with this summons himself,his daughter's presence would be equally necessary.
Influenced by these considerations, he was willing that his daughtershould accompany the messenger, who was content that they shouldconsult their mutual convenience in this respect. This interview was toher, not without its terrors, but she cherished the hope that it mightultimately conduce to good. She did not foresee the means by which thiswould be effected, but her heart was lightened by a secret andinexplicable faith in the propitiousness of some event that was yet tooccur. This faith was powerfully enforced when she reached themagistrate's door, and found that he was no other than Melbourne, whosesuccour she intended to solicit. She was speedily ushered, not into hisoffice, but into a private apartment, where he received her alone.
He had been favorably prepossessed with regard to her character bythe report of the officer, who, on being charged with the message, hadaccounted for the regret which he manifested, by dwelling on the meritsof Miss Dudley. He behaved with grave civility, requested her to beseated, and accurately scrutinized her appearance. She found herselfnot decived in her preconceptions of this gentleman's character, anddrew a favorable omen as to the event of this interview, by what hadalready taken place. He viewed her in silence for some time, and then,in a conciliating tone, said:
It seems to me, madam, as if I had seen you before. Your face,indeed, is of that kind which, when once seen, is not easily forgotten.I know it is a long time since, but I cannot tell when or where. If youwill not deem me impertinent, I will venture to ask you to assist myconjectures. Your name as I am informed, is Acworth--I ought to havementioned that Mr. Dudley on his removal from New-York, among otherexpedients to obliterate the memory of his former condition, andconceal his poverty from the world, had made this change in hisname.
That, indeed, said the lady, is the name, which my father, atpresent, bears. His real name is Dudley. His abode was formerly inQueen-Street, New-York. Your conjecture, Sir, is not erroneous. This isnot the first time we have seen each other. I well recollect yourhaving been at my father's house in the days of his prosperity.
Is it possible? exclaimed Mr. Melbourne, starting from his seat inthe first impulse of his astonishment: Are you the daughter of myfriend Dudley, by whom I have so often been hospitably entertained. Ihave heard of his misfortunes, but knew not that he was alive, or inwhat part of the world he resided.
You are summoned on a very disagreeable affair, but I doubt not youwill easily exculpate your father. I am told that he is blind, and thathis situation is by no means as comfortable as might be wished. I amgrieved that he did not confide in the friendship of those that knewhim. What could prompt him to conceal himself?
My father has a proud spirit. It is not yet broken by adversity. Hedisdains to beg, but I must now assume that office for his sake. I camehither this morning to lay before you his situation, and to entreatyour assistance to save him from a prison. He cannot pay for the poortenement he occupies, and our few goods are already under distress. Hehas, likewise, contracted a debt. He is, I suppose, already sued onthis account, and must go to gaol unless saved by the interposition ofsome friend.
It is true, said Melbourne, I yesterday granted a warrant againsthim at the suit of Malcolm M'Crea. Little did I think that thedefendant was Stephen Dudley; but you may dismiss all apprehensions onthat score. That affair shall be settled to your father's satisfaction:Meanwhile, we will, if you please, dispatch this unpleasant businessrespecting a counterfeit note, received in payment from you by thisM'Cea.
Miss Dudley satisfactorily explained that affair. She stated therelation in which Craig had formerly stood to her father, and the actsof which he had been guilty. She slightly touched on the distresseswhich the family had undergone during their abode in this city, and themeans by which she had been able to preserve her father from want. Shementioned the circumstances which compelled her to seek his charity asthe last resource, and the casual encounter with Craig, by which shewas for the present diverted from that design. She laid before him acopy of the letter she had written, and explained the result in thegift of the note which now appeared to be a counterfeit. She concludedwith stating her present views, and soliciting him to receive her intohis family, in quality of servant, or use his interest with some of hisfriends to procure a provision of this kind. This tale was calculateddeeply to affect a man of Mr. Melbourne's humanity.
No, said he, I cannot listen to such a request. My inclination isbounded by my means. These will not allow me to place you in anindependent situation; but I will do what I can. With your leave, Iwill introduce you to my wife, in your true character. Her good sensewill teach her to set a just value on your friendship. There is nodisgrace in earning your subsistence by your own industry. She and herfriends will furnish you with plenty of materials, but if there ever bea deficiency, look to me for a supply.
Constantia's heart overflowed at this declaration. Her silence wasmore eloquent than any words could have been. She declined an immediateintroduction to his wife, and withdrew, but not till her new friend hadforced her to accept some money.
Place it to account, said he. It is merely paying you before hand,and discharging a debt at the time when it happens to be most useful tothe creditor.
To what entire and incredible reverses is the tenor of human lifesubject. A short minute shall effect a transition from a state utterlydestitute of hope, to a condition where all is serene and abundant. Thepath, which we employ all our exertions to shun, is often found, upontrial, to be the true road to prosperity.
Constantia retired from this interview with an heart bounding withexultation. She related to her father all that had happened. He waspleased on her account, but the detection of his poverty by Melbournewas the parent of new mortification. His only remaining hope relativeto himself, was that he should die in his obscurity, whereas, it wasprobable that his old acquaintance would trace him to his covert. Thisprognostic filled him with the deepest inquietude, and all thereasonings of his daughter were insufficient to appease him.
Melbourne made his appearance in the afternoon. He was introduced,by Constantia, to her father. Mr. Dudley's figure was emaciated, andhis features corroded by his ceaseless melancholy. His blindnessproduced in them a woeful and wildering expression. His dress betokenedhis penury, and was in unison with the meanness of his habitation andfurniture. The visitant was struck with the melancholy contrast, whichthese appearances exhibited, to the joyousness and splendour that hehad formerly witnessed.
Mr. Dudley received the salutations of his guest with an air ofembarrassment and dejection. He resigned to his daughter the task ofsustaining the conversation, and excused himself from complying withthe urgent invitations of Melbourne, while at the same time, hestudiously forbore all expressions tending to encourage any kind ofintercourse between them.
The guest came with a message from his wife, who intreated MissDudley's company to tea with her that evening, adding that she shouldbe entirely alone. It was impossible to refuse compliance with thisrequest. She cheerfully assented, and, in the evening, was introducedto Mrs. Melbourne, by her husband.
Constantia found in this lady nothing that called for reverence oradmiration, though she could not deny her some portion of esteem. Theimpression which her own appearance and conversation made upon herentertainer, was much more powerful and favorable. A consciousness ofher own worth, and disdain of the malevolence of fortune, perpetuallyshone forth in her behaviour. It was modelled by a sort of mean betweenpresumption on the one hand, and humility on the other. She claimed nomore than what was justly due to her, but she claimed no less. She didnot soothe our vanity nor fascinate our pity by diffident reserves andflutterings. Neither did she disgust by arrogant negligence, anduncircumspect loquacity.
At parting, she received commissions in the way of her profession,which supplied her with abundant and profitable employment. Sheabridged her visit on her father's account, and parted from her newfriend just early enough to avoid meeting with , who entered the housea few minutes after she had left it.
What pity, said Melbourne to him, you did not come a little sooner.You pretend to be a judge of beauty. I should like to have heard youropinion of a face that has just left us.
Describe it, said the other.
That is beyond my capacity. Complexion, and hair, and eyebrows maybe painted, but these are of no great value in the present case. It isin the putting them together, that nature has here shewn her skill, andnot in the structure of each of the parts, individually considered.Perhaps you may at some time meet each other here. If a lofty fellowlike you, now, would mix a little common sense with his science, thisgirl might hope for an husband, and her father for a naturalprotector.
Are they in search of one or the other?
I cannot say they are. Nay, I imagine they would bear any imputationwith more patience than that, but certain I am, they stand in need ofthem. How much would it be to the honor of a man like you rioting inwealth, to divide it with one, lovely and accomplished as this girl is,and struggling with indigence.
Melbourne then related the adventure of the morning. It was easy forto perceive that this was the same person of whom he already had someknowledge--but there were some particulars in the narrative thatexcited surprise. A note had been received from Craig, at the firstvisit in the evening, and this note was for no more than fifty dollars.This did not exactly tally with the information received from Craig.But this note was forged. Might not this girl mix a little imposturewith her truth? Who knows her temptations to hypocrisy? It might havebeen a present from another quarter, and accompanied with no veryhonorable conditions. Exquisite wretch! Those whom honesty will not letlive, must be knaves. Such is the alternative offered by the wisdom ofsociety.
He listened to the tale with apparent indifference. He speedilyshifted the conversation to new topics, and put an end to his visitsooner than ordinary.
I know no task more arduous than a just delineation of the characterof . To scrutinize and ascertain our own principles are abundantlydifficult. To exhibit these principles to the world with absolutesincerity, can scarcely be expected. We are prompted to conceal and tofeign by a thousand motives; but truly to pourtray the motives, andrelate the actions of another, appears utterly impossible. The attempt,however, if made with fidelity and diligence, is not without itsuse.
To comprehend the whole truth, with regard to the character andconduct of another, may be denied to any human being, but differentobservers will have, in their pictures, a greater or less portion ofthis truth. No representation will be wholly false, and some though notperfectly, may yet be considerably exempt from error.
was, of all mankind, the being most difficult and most deserving tobe studied. A fortunate concurrence of incidents has unveiled hisactions to me with more distinctness than to any other. My knowledge isfar from being absolute, but I am conscious of a kind of duty, first tomy friend, and secondly to mankind, to impart the knowledge Ipossess.
I shall omit to mention the means by which I became acquainted withhis character, nor shall I enter, at this time, into every part of it.His political projects are likely to possess an extensive influence onthe future condition of this western world. I do not conceive myselfauthorized to communicate a knowledge of his schemes, which I gained,in some sort, surreptitiously, or at least, by means of which he wasnot apprized. I shall merely explain the maxims by which he wasaccustomed to regulate his private deportment.
No one could entertain loftier conceptions of human capacity than ,but he carefully distinguished between men, in the abstract, and men asthey are. The former were beings to be impelled, by the breath ofaccident, in a right or a wrong road, but whatever direction theyshould receive, it was the property of their nature to persist in it.Now this impulse had been given. No single being could rectify theerror. It was the business of the wise man to form a just estimate ofthings, but not to attempt, by individual efforts, so chimerical anenterprize as that of promoting the happiness of mankind. Theircondition was out of the reach of a member of a corrupt society tocontroul. A mortal poison pervaded the whole system by means of whichevery thing received was converted into bane and purulence. Effortsdesigned to ameliorate the condition of an individual, were sure ofanswering a contrary purpose. The principles of the social machine mustbe rectified, before men can be beneficially active. Our motives may beneutral or beneficent, but our actions tend merely to the production ofevil.
The idea of total forbearance was not less delusive. Man could notbe otherwise than an cause of perpetual operation and efficacy. He waspart of a machine, and as such had not power to withhold his agency.Contiguousuess to other parts, that is, to other men, was all that wasnecessary to render him a powerful concurrent. What then was theconduct incumbent on him? Whether he went forward, or stood still,whether his motives were malignant, or kind, or indifferent, the massof evil was equally and necessarily augmented. It did not follow fromthese preliminaries that virtue and duty were terms without a meaning,but they require us to promote our own happiness and not the happinessof others. Not because the former end is intrinsically preferable, notbecause the happiness of others is unworthy of primary consideration,but because it is not to be attained. Our power in the present state ofthings is subjected to certain limits. A man may reasonably hope toaccomplish his end, when he proposes nothing but his own good: Anyother point is inaccessible.
He must not part with benevolent desire: This is a constituent ofhappiness. He sees the value of general and particular felicity; hesometimes paints it to his fancy, but if this be rarely done, it is inconsequence of virtuous sensibility, which is afflicted on observingthat his pictures are reversed in the real state of mankind. A wise manwill relinquish the pursuit of general benefit, but not the desire ofthat benefit, or the perception of that in which this benefit consists,because these are among the ingredients of virtue and the sources ofhis happiness.
Principles, in the looser sense of that term, have little influenceon practice. was, for the most part, governed, like others, by theinfluences of education and present circumstances. It required avigilant discernment to distinguish whether the stream of his actionsflowed from one or the other. His income was large, and he managed itnearly on the same principles as other men. He thought himself entitledto all the splendour and ease which it would purchase, but his tastewas claborate and correct. He gratified his love of the beautiful,because the sensations it afforded were pleasing, but made nosacrifices to the love of distinction. He gave no expensiveentertainments for the sake of exciting the admiration of stupidgazers, or the flattery or envy of those who shared them. Pompousequipage and retinue were modes of appropriating the esteem of mankindwhich he held in profound contempt. The garb of his attendants wasfashioned after the model suggested by his imagination, and not incompliance with the dictates of custom.
He treated with systematic negligence, the ettiquette that regulatesthe intercourse of persons of a certain class. He, every where, acted,in this respect, as if he were alone, or among familiar associates. Thevery appellations of Sir, and Madam, and Mister, were, in hisapprehension, servile and ridiculous, and as custom or law had annexedno penalty to the neglect of these, he conformed to his own opinions.It was easier for him to reduce his notions of equality to practicethan for most others. To level himself with others was an act ofcondescension and not of arrogance. It was requisite to descend ratherthan to rise; a task the most easy, if we regard the obstacles flowingfrom the prejudice of mankind, but far most difficult, if the motivesof the agent be considered.
That in which he chiefly placed his boast, was his sincerity. Tothis he refused no sacrifice. In consequence of this, his deportmentwas disgusting to weak minds, by a certain air of ferocity and haughtynegligence. He was without the attractions of candour, because heregarded not the happiness of others, but in subservience to hissincerity. Hence it was natural to suppose that the character of thisman was easily understood. He affected to conceal nothing. No oneappeared more exempt from the instigations of vanity. He set light bythe good opinions of others, had no compassion for their prejudices,and hazarded assertions in their presence which he knew would be, inthe highest degree, shocking to their previous notions. They might takeit, he would say, as they list. Such were his conceptions, and the lastthing he wonld give up was the use of his tongue. It was his way togive utterance to the suggestions of his understanding. If they weredisadvantageous to him in the opinions of others, it was well. He didnot wish to be regarded in any light, but the true one. He wascontented to be rated by the world, at his just value. If they esteemedhim for qualities he did not possess, was he wrong in rectifying theirmistake: But in reality, if they valued him for that to which he had noclaim, and which he himself considered as contemptible, he mustnaturally desire to shew them their error, and forfeit that praisewhich, in his own opinion, was a badge of infamy.
In listening to his discourse, no one's claim to sincerity appearedless questionable. A somewhat different conclusion would be suggestedby a survey of his actions. In early youth he discovered in himself aremarkable facility in imitating the voice and gestures of others. Hismemory was eminently retentive, and these qualities would have renderedhis career, in the theatrical profession, illustrious, had not hiscondition raised him above it. His talents were occasionally exertedfor the entertainment of convivial parties, and private circle but hegradually withdrew from such scenes, as he advanced in age, and devotedhis abilities to higher purposes.
His aversion to duplicity had flowed from experience of its evils.He had frequently been made its victim; In consequence of this histemper had become suspicious, and he was apt to impute deceit onoccasions when others, of no inconsiderable sagacity, were abundantlydisposed to confidence. One transaction had occurred in his life, inwhich the consequences of being misled by false appearances were of theutmost moment to his honor and safety. The usual mode of solving hisdoubts, he deemed insufficient, and the eagerness of his curiositytempted him, for the first time, to employ, for this end, his talentsat imitation. He therefore assumed a borrowed character and guise, andperformed his part with so much skill as fully to accomplish hisdesign. He whose mask would have secured him from all other attempts,was thus taken through an avenue which his caution had overlooked, andthe hypocrisy of his pretensions unquestionably ascertained.
Perhaps, in a comprehensive view, the success of this expedient wasunfortunate. It served to recommend this method of encountering deceit,and informed him of the extent of those powers which are so liable tobe abused. A subtlety much inferior to 's would suffice to recommendthis mode of action. It was defensible on no other principle thannecessity. The treachery of mankind compelled him to resort to it. Ifthey should deal in a manner as upright and explicit as himself, itwould be superfluous. But since they were in the perpetual use ofstratagems and artifices, it was allowable, he thought, to wield thesame arms.
It was easy to perceive, however, that this practice was recommendedto him by other considerations. He was delighted with the power itconferred. It enabled him to gain access, as if by supernatural means,to the privacy of others, and baffle their profoundest contrivances tohide themselves from his view. It flattered him with the possession ofsomething like Omniscience. It was besides an art, in which, as inothers, every accession of skill, was a source of new gratification.Compared with this the performance of the actor is the sport ofchildren. This profession he was accustomed to treat with mercilessridicule, and no doubt, some of his contempt arose from a secretcomparison, between the theatrical species of imitation and his own. Heblended in his own person the functions of poet and actor, and hisdramas were not fictitious but real. The end that he proposed was notthe amusement of a play-house mob. His were scenes in which hope andfear exercised a genuine influence, and in which was maintained thatresemblance to truth, so audaciously and grossly violated on thestage.
It is obvious how many singular conjunctures must have grown out ofthis propensity. A mind of uncommon energy like 's, which had occupieda wide sphere of action, and which could not fail of confederating itsefforts with those of minds like itself, must have given birth toinnumerable incidents, not unworthy to be exhibited by the mosteloquent historian. It is not my business to relate any of these. Thefate of Miss Dudley is intimately connected with his. What influence heobtained over her destiny, in consequence of this dexterity, willappear in the sequel.
It arose from these circumstanees, that no one was more impenetrablethan , though no one's real character seemed more easily discerned. Theprojects that occupied his attention were diffused over an ample space;and his instruments and coadjutors were culled from a field, whosebounds were those of the civilized world. To the vulgar eye, therefore,he appeared a man of speculation and seclusion, and was equallyinscrutible in his real and assumed characters. In his real, hisintents were too lofty and comprehensive, as well as too assiduouslyshrowded from profane inspection, for them to scan. In the latter,appearances were merely calculated to mislead and not to enlighten.
In his youth he had been guilty of the usual excesses incident tohis age and character. These had disappeared and yielded place to amore regular and circumspect system of action. In the choice of hispleasures he still exposed himself to the censure of the world. Yetthere was more of grossness and licentiousness in the expression of histenets, than in the tenets themselves. So far as temperance regards themaintainance of health, no man adhered to its precepts with morefidelity, but he esteemed some species of connection with the other sexas venial, which mankind in general are vehement in condemning.
In his intercourse with women, he deemed himself superior to theallurements of what is called love. His inferences were drawn from aconsideration of the physical propensities of an human being. In hisscale of enjoyments the gratifications which belonged to these, wereplaced at the bottom. Yet he did not entirely disdain them, and whenthey could be purchased without the sacrifice of superior advantages,they were sufficiently acceptable.
His mistake on this head was the result of his ignorance. He had nothitherto met with a female worthy of his confidence. Their views werelimited and superficial, or their understandings were betrayed by thetenderness of their hearts. He found in them no intellectual energy, nosuperiority to what he accounted vulgar prejudice, and no affinity withthe sentiments which he cherished with most devotion. Their presencehad been capable of exciting no emotion which he did not quicklydiscover to be vague and sensual; and the uniformity of his experienceat length instilled into him a belief, that the intellectualconstitution of females was essentially defective. He denied thereality of that passion which claimed a similitude or sympathy of mindsas one of its ingredients.
He resided in New-York some time before he took up his abode inPhiladelphia. He had some pecuniary concerns with a merchant of thatplace. He occasionally frequented his house, finding, in the societywhich it afforded him, scope for amusing speculation, and opportunitiesof gaining a species of knowledge of which at that time he stood inneed. There was one daughter of the family who of course constituted amember of the domestic circle.
Helena Cleves was endowed with every feminine and fascinatingquality. Her features were modified by the most transient sentimentsand were the seat of a softness at all times blushful and bewitching.All those graces of symmetry, smoothness and lustre, which assemble inthe imagination of the painter when he calls from the bosom of hernatal deep, the Paphian divinity, blended their perfections in theshape, complexion and hair of this lady. Her voice was naturallythrilling and melodious, and her utterance clear and distinct. Amusical education had added to all these advantages the improvements ofart, and no one could swim in the dance with such airy and transportingelegance.
It is obvious to enquire whether her mental, were, in any degree, ona level with her exterior accomplishments. Should you listen to hertalk, you would be liable to be deceived in this respect. Her utterancewas so just, her phrases so happy, and her language so copious andcorrect, that the hearer was apt to be impressed with an ardentveneration of her abilities, but the truth is, she was calculated toexcite emotions more voluptuous than dignified. Her presence produced atrance of the senses rather than an illumination of the soul. It was atopic of wonder how she should have so carefully separated the huskfrom the kernel, and be so absolute a mistress of the vehicle ofknowledge, with so slender means of supplying it: Yet it is difficultto judge but from comparison. To say that Helena Cleves was silly orignorant would be hatefully unjust. Her understanding bore nodisadvantageous comparison with that of the majority of her sex, butwhen placed in competition with that of some eminent females or of , itwas exposed to the risque of contempt.
This lady and were exposed to mutual examination. The latter was notunaffected by the radiance that environed this girl, but her truecharacter was easily discovered, and he was accustomed to regard hermerely as an object charming to the senses. His attention to her wasdictated by this principle. When she sung or talked, it was notunworthy of the strongest mind to be captivated with her music and herelocution: But these were the limits which he set to hisgratifications. That sensations of a different kind, never ruffled histranquility must not be supposed, but he too accurately estimated theirconsequences to permit himself to indulge them.
Unhappily the lady did not exercise equal fortitude. During acertain interval 's visits were frequent, and she insensibly contractedfor him somewhat more than reverence. The tenour of his discourse waslittle adapted to cherish her hopes. In the declaration of his opinionshe was never withheld by scruples of decorum, or a selfish regard tohis own interest. His matrimonial tenets were harsh and repulsive. Awoman of keener penetration would have predicted from them, thedisappointment of her wishes, but Helena's mind was uninnured to thediscussion of logical points and the tracing of remote consequences.His presence inspired feelings which would not permit her to bestow animpartial attention on his arguments. It is not enough to say that hisreasonings failed to convince her: The combined influence of passionand an unenlightened understanding hindered her from fullycomprehending them. All she gathered was a vague conception ofsomething magnificent and vast in his character.
Helena was destined to experience the vicissitudes of fortune. Herfather died suddenly and left her without provision. She was compelledto accept the invitations of a kinswoman, and live, in some sort, alife of dependance. She was not qualified to sustain this reverse offortune, in a graceful manner. She could not bear the diminution of hercustomary indulgences, and to these privations were added theinquietudes of a passion which now began to look with an aspect ofhopelessness.
These events happened in the absence of . On his return he madehimself acquainted with them. He saw the extent of this misfortune to awoman of Helena's character, but knew not in what manner it might beeffectually obviated. He esteemed it incumbent on him to pay her avisit in her new abode. This token at least of respect or remembrancehis duty appeared to prescribe.
This visit was unexpected by the lady. Surprise is the enemy ofconcealment. She was oppressed with a sense of her desolate situation.She was sitting in her own apartment in a museful posture. Her fancywas occupied with the image of , and her tears were flowing at thethought of their eternal separation, when he entered softly andunperceived by her. A tap upon the shoulder was the first signal of hispresence. So critical an interview could not fail of unveiling the truestate of the lady's heart. Ormond's suspicions were excited, and thesesuspicions speedily led to an explanation.
retired to ruminate on this discovery. I have already mentioned hissentiments respecting love. His feelings relative to Helena did notcontradict his principles, yet the image which had formerly beenexquisite in loveliness, had now suddenly gained unspeakableattractions. This discovery had set the question in a new light. It wasof sufficient importance to make him deliberate. He reasoned somewhatin the following manner.
Marriage is absurd. This flows from the general and incurableimperfection of the female character. No woman can possess that worthwhich would induce me to enter into this contract, and bind myself,without power of revoking the decree, to her society. This opinion maypossibly be erroneous, but it is undoubtedly true with respect toHelena, and the uncertainty of the position in general, will increasethe necessity of caution in the present case. That woman may exist whomI should not fear to espouse. This is not her. Some accident may causeour meeting. Shall I then disable myself, by an irrevocable obligation,from profiting by so auspicious an occurrence?
This girl's society was to be enjoyed in one of two ways. Should heconsult his inclination there was little room for doubt. He had nevermet with one more highly qualified for that spccies of intercoursewhich he esteemed rational. No man more abhored the votaries oflicentiousness. Nothing was more detestable to him than a mercenaryalliance. Personal fidelity and the existence of that passion, of whichhe had, in the present case, the good fortune to be the object, wereindispensible in his scheme. The union was indebted for its value onthe voluntariness with which it was formed, and the entire acquiescenceof the judgment of both parties in its rectitude. Dissimulation andartifice were wholly foreign to the success of his project. If the ladythought proper to assent to his proposal, it was well. She did sobecause assent was more eligible than refusal.
She would, no doubt, prefer marriage. She would deem it moreconducive to happiness. This was an error. This was an opinion, hisreasons for which he was at liberty to state to her; at least it wasjustifiable in refusing to subject himself to loathsome andimpracticable obligations. Certain inconveniences attended women whoset aside, on these occasions, the sanction of law, but these wereimaginary. They owed their force to the errors of the sufferer. Toannihilate them, it was only necessary to reason justly, but allowingthese inconveniences their full weight and an industructable existance,it was but a choice of evils. Were they worse in this lady'sapprehension, than an eternal and hopeless separation? Perhaps theywere. If so, she would make her election accordingly. He did nothingbut lay the conditions before her. If his scheme should obtain theconcurrence of her unbiassed judgment he should rejoice. If not, herconduct should be uninfluenced by him. Whatever way she should decide,he would assist her in adhering to her decision, but would, meanwhile,furnish her with the materials of a right decision.
This determination was singular. Many will regard it as incredible.No man, it will be thought can put this deception on himself, andimagine that there was genuine beneficence in a scheme like this. Wouldthe lady more consult her happiness by adopting than by rejecting it?There can be but one answer. It cannot be supposed that , in statingthis proposal, acted with all the impartiality that he pretended; thathe did not employ falacious exaggerations and ambiguous expedients;that he did not seize every opportunity of triumphing over herweakness, and building his success rather on the illusions of her heartthan the convictions of her understanding. His conclusions werespecious but delusive, and were not uninfluenced by improper byasses;but of this he himself was scarcely conscious, and it must be, atleast, admitted that he acted with serupulous sincerity.
An uncommon degree of skill was required to introduce this topic soas to avoid the imputation of an insult. This scheme was little inunison with all her preconceived notions. No doubt, the irksomeness ofher present situation, the allurements of luxury and ease, which had tobestow, and the revival of her ancient independance and security, hadsome share in dictating her assent.
Her concurrence was by no means cordial and unhesitating. Remorseand the sense of dishonor pursued her to her retreat, though chosenwith a view of shunning their intrusions, and it was only when thereasonings and blandishments of her lover were exhibited, that she waslulled into temporary tranquility.
She removed to Philadelphia. Here she enjoyed all the consolationsof opulence. She was mistress of a small but elegant mansion. Shepossessed all the means of solitary amusement, and frequently enjoyedthe company of . These however were insufficient to render her happy.Certain reflections might, for a time, be repressed or divested oftheir sting, but they insinuated themselves at every interval, andimparted to her mind, a hue of dejection from which she could notentirely relieve herself.
She endeavoured to acquire a relish for the pursuits of literature,by which her lonely hours might be cheered; but of this, even in theblithsomeness and serenity of her former days, she was incapable. Muchmore so now when she was the prey of perpetual inquietude. perceivedthis change, not without uneasiness. All his efforts to reconcile herto her present situation were fruitless. They produced a momentaryeffect upon her. The softness of her temper and her attachment to him,would, at his bidding, restore her to vivacity and ease, but theillumination seldom endured longer than his presence, and the noveltyof some amusement which he had furnished her.
At his next visit, perhaps, he would find that a new task awaitedhim. She indulged herself in no recriminations or invectives. She couldnot complain that her lover had deceived her. She had voluntarily anddeliberately accepted the conditions prescribed. She regarded her owndisposition to repine as a species of injustice. She laid no claim toan increase of tenderness. She hinted not a wish for a change ofsituation: yet she was unhappy. Tears stole into her eyes, and herthoughts wandered into gloomy reverie, at moments when least aware oftheir reproach, and least willing to indulge them.
Was a change to be desired? Yes; provided that change was equallyagreeable to , and should be seriously proposed by him, of this she hadno hope. As long as his accents rung in her ears, she even doubtedwhether it were to be wished. At any rate, it was impossible to gainhis approbation to it. Her destiny was fixed. It was better than thecessation of all intercourse, yet her heart was a stranger to allpermanent tranquility.
Her manners were artless and ingenuous. In company with her heartwas perfectly unveiled. He was her divinity to whom every sentiment wasvisible, and to whom she spontaneously uttered what she thought,because the employment was pleasing; because he listened with apparentsatisfaction; and because, in fine, it was the same thing to speak andto think in his presence. There was no inducement to conceal from himthe most evanescent and fugitive ideas.
was not an inattentive or indifferent spectator of thoseappearances. His friend was unhappy. She shrunk aghast from her ownreproaches and the contumelies of the world. This morbid sensibility hehad endeavoured to cure, but hitherto in vain. What was the amount ofher unhappiness? Her spirits had formerly been gay, but her gaiety wascapable of yielding place to soul-ravishing and solemn tenderness. Hersedateness was, at those times, the offspring not of reflection but ofpassion. There still remained much of her former self. He was seldompermitted to witness more than the traces of sorrow. In answer to hisenquiries, she, for the most part, described sensations that were gone,and which she flattered himself and him would never return; but thishope was always doomed to disappointment. Solitude infalibly conjuredup the ghost which had been laid, and it was plain that argument was noadequate remedy for this disease.
How far would time alleviate its evils? When the novelty of hercondition should disappear, would she not regard it with other eyes? Bybeing familiar with contempt, it will lose its sting; but is that to bewished? Must not the character be thoroughly depraved, before the scornof our neighbours shall become indifferent? Indifference, flowing froma sense of justice, and a persuasion that our treatment is unmerited,is characteristic of the noblest minds, but indifference to obloquybecause we are habituated to it, is a token of peculiar baseness. Thistherefore was a remedy to be ardently deprecated.
He had egregiously over-rated the influence of truth and his owninfluence. He had hoped that his victory was permanent. In order to thesuccess of truth, he was apt to imagine, that nothing was needful butopportunities for a compleat exhibition of it. They that enquire andreason with sufficient deliberateness and caution, must inevitablyaccomplish their end. These maxims were confuted in the present case.He had formed no advantageous conceptions of Helena's capacity. Hisaversion to matrimony arose from those conceptions, but experience hadshewn him that his conclusions, unfavorable as they were, had fallenshort of the truth. Convictions, which he had conceived her mind to besufficiently strong to receive and retain, were proved to have made noother, than a momentary impression. Hence his objections to allyhimself to a mind inferior to his own were strengthened rather thandiminished. But he could not endure the thought of being instrumentalto her misery.
Marriage was an efficacious remedy, but he could not as yet bringhimself to regard the aptitude of this cure as a subject of doubt. Theidea of separation sometimes occurred to him. He was not unapprehensiveof the influence of time and absence, in curing the most vehementpassion, but to this expedient the lady could not be reconciled. Heknew her too well to believe that she would willingly adopt it. But theonly obstacle to this scheme did not flow from the lady's opposition.He would probably have found upon experiment as strong an aversion toadopt it in himself as in her.
It was easy to see the motives by which he would be likely to beswayed into a change of principles. If marriage were the only remedy,the frequent repetition of this truth must bring him insensibly todoubt the rectitude of his determinations against it. He deeplyreflected on the consequences which marriage involves. He scrutinizedwith the utmost accuracy, the character of his friend, and surveyed itin all its parts. Inclination could not fail of having some influenceon his opinions. The charms of this favorite object tended to impairthe clearness of his view, and extenuate or conceal her defects. Heentered on the enumeration of her errors with reluctance. Her happinesshad it been wholly disconnected with his own, might have had lessweight in the ballance, but now, every time the scales were suspended,this consideration acquired new weight.
Most men are influenced, in the formation of this contract, byregards purely physical. They are incapable of higher views. Theyregard with indifference every tie that binds them to theircontemporaries, or to posterity. Mind has no part in the motives thatguide them. They chuse a wife as they chuse any household moveable, andwhen the irritation of the senses has subsided, the attachment thatremains is the offspring of habit.
Such were not 's modes of thinking. His creed was of tooextraordinary a kind not to merit explication. The terms of thiscontract were, in his eyes, iniquitous and absurd. He could not thinkwith patience of a promise which no time could annull, which pretendedto ascertain contingencies and regulate the future. To forego theliberty of chusing his companion, and bind himself to associate withone whom he despised, to raise to his own level one whom nature hadirretreavably degraded; to avow, and persist in his adherence to afalsehood, palpable and loathsome to his understanding; to affirm thathe was blind, when in full possession of his senses; to shut his eyesand grope in the dark, and call upon the compassion of mankind on hisinfirmity, when his organs were, in no degree, impaired, and the scenearound him was luminous and beautiful, was an height of infatuationthat he could never attain. And why should he be thus self-degraded?Why should he take a laborious circuit to reach a point which, whenattained, was trivial, and to which reason had pointed out a road shortand direct?
A wife is generally nothing more than a household superintendant.This function could not be more wisely vested than it was at present.Every thing, in his domestic system, was fashioned on strict andinflexible principles. He wanted instruments and not partakers of hisauthority. One whose mind was equal and not superior to the cogentapprehension and punctual performance of his will. One whose characterwas squared, with mathematical exactness, to his situation. Helena,with all her faults, did not merit to be regarded in this light. Herintroduction would destroy the harmony of his scheme, and be, withrespect to herself, a genuine debasement. A genuine evil would thus besubstituted for one that was purely imaginary.
Helena's intellectual deficiencies could not be concealed. She was aproficient in the elements of no science. The doctrine of lines andsurfaces was as disproportionate with her intellects as with those ofthe mock-bird. She had not reasoned on the principles of human action,nor examined the structure of society. She was ignorant of the past orpresent condition of mankind. History had not informed her of the one,nor the narratives of voyagers, nor the deductions of geography of theother. The heights of eloquence and poetry were shut out from her view.She could not commune in their native dialect, with the sages of Romeand Athens. To her those perennial fountains of wisdom and refinementwere sealed. The constitution of nature, the attributes of its author,the arrangement of the parts of the external universe, and thesubstance, modes of operation, and ultimate destiny of humanintelligence, were enigmas unsolved and insoluble by her.
But this was not all. The superstructure could for the present bespared. Nay it was desirable that the province of rearing it, should bereserved for him. All he wanted was a suitable foundation; but thisHelena did not possess. He had not hitherto been able to create in herthe inclination or the power. She had listened to his precepts withdocility. She had diligently conned the lessons which he hadprescribed, but the impressions were as fleeting as if they had beenmade on water. Nature seemed to have set impassable limits to herattainments.
This indeed was an unwelcome belief. He struggled to invalidate it.He reflected on the immaturity of her age. What but crude and hastyviews was it reasonable to expect at so early a period. If her mind hadnot been awakened, it had proceeded, perhaps, from the injudiciousnessof his plans, or merely from their not having been persisted in. Whatwas wanting but the ornaments of mind to render this being all thatpoets have feigned of angelic nature. When he indulged himself inimaging the union of capacious understanding with her personalloveliness, his conceptions swelled to a pitch of enthusiasm, and itseemed as if no labour was too great to be employed in the productionof such a creature. And yet, in the midst of his glowings, he wouldsink into sudden dejection at the recollection of that which passionhad, for a time, excluded. To make her wise it would be requisite tochange her sex. He had forgotten that his pupil was a female, and hercapacity therefore limited by nature. This mortifying thought wasoutbalanced by another. Her attainments, indeed, were suitable to theimbecility of her sex; but did she not surpass, in those attainments,the ordinary rate of women? They must not be condemned, because theyare outshone by qualities that are necessarily male births.
Her accomplishments formed a much more attractive theme. Heoverlooked no article in the catalogue. He was confounded at one time,and encouraged at another, on remarking the contradictions that seemedto be included in her character. It was difficult to conceive theimpossibility of passing that barrier which yet she was able to touch.She was no poet. She listened to the rehearsal, without emotion, or wasmoved, not by the substance of the passage, by the dazzling image orthe magic sympathy, but by something adscititious: yet usher her uponthe stage, and no poet would wish for a more powerful organ of hisconceptions. In assuming this office, she appeared to have drank in thevery soul of the dramatist. What was wanting in judgment, was suppliedby memory, in the tenaciousness of which, she has seldom beenrivalled.
Her sentiments were trite and undigested, but were decorated withall the fluences and melodies of elocution. Her musical instructor hadbeen a Sicilian, who had formed her style after the Italian model. Thisman had likewise taught her his own language. He had supplied herchiefly with Sicilian compositions, both in poetry and melody, and wascontent to be unclassical, for the sake of the feminine and voluptuousgraces of his native dialect.
was an accurate judge of the proficiency of Hellen, and of thefelicity with which these accomplishments were suited to her character.When his pupil personated the victims of anger and grief, and pouredforth the fiery indignation of Calista, or the maternal despair ofConstance, or the self-contentions of Ipsipile, he could not deny thehomage which her talents might claim.
Her Sicilian tutor had found her no less tractable as a votary ofpainting. She needed only the education of Angelica, to exercise aspotent and prolific a pencil. This was incompatible with her condition,which limited her attainments to the elements of this art. It wasotherwise with music. Here there was no obstacle to skill, and here theassiduities of many years, in addition to a prompt and ardent genius,set her beyond the hopes of rivalship.
had often amused his fancy with calling up images of excellence inthis art. He saw no bounds to the influence of habit, in augmenting thespeed and multiplying the divisions of muscular motion. The fingers, bytheir form and size, were qualified to outrun and elude the mostvigilant eye. The sensibility of keys and wires had limits, but theselimits depended on the structure of the instrument, and the perfectionof its structure was proportioned to the skill of the artist. On wellconstructed keys and strings, was it possible to carry diversities ofmovement and pressure too far. How far they could be carried was meretheme of conjecture, until it was his fate to listen to the magicalperformances of Hellen, whose votant finger seemed to be self-impelled.Her touches were creative of a thousand forms of Piano, and ofnumberless transitions from grave to quick, perceptible only to earslike her own.
In the selection and arrangement of notes, there are no limits toluxuriance and celerity. Hellen had long relinquished the drudgery ofimitation. She never played but when there were motives to fervour, andwhen she was likely to ascend without impediment, and to maintain for asuitable period her elevation, to the element of new ideas. The lyricsof Milton and of Metastasio, she sung with accompaniments that nevertired, because they were never repeated. Her harp and clavichordsupplied her with endless combinations, and these in the opinion ofwere not inferior to the happiest exertions of Handel and Arne.
Chess was his favorite amusement. This was the only game which heallowed himself to play. He had studied it with so much zeal andsuccess, that there were few with whom he deigned to contend. He wasprone to consider it as a sort of criterion of human capacity. He whohad acquired skill in this science, could not be infirm in mind; andyet he found in Hellen, a competitor not unworthy ofall his energies.Many hours were consumed in this employment, and here the lady wassedate, considerate, extensive in foresight, and fertile inexpedients.
Her deportment was graceful, inasmuch as it flowed from aconsciousness of her defects. She was devoid of arrogance and vanity,neither imagining himself better than she was, and setting light bythose qualifications which she unquestionably possessed. Such was themixed character of this woman.
was occupied with schemes of a rugged and arduous nature. Hisintimate associates and the partakers of his confidence, were embruedwith the same zeal, and ardent in the same pursuits. Helena could layno claim to be exalted to this rank. That one destitute of this claimshould enjoy the privileges of his wife, was still a supposition trulymonstrous: Yet the image of Helena, fondly loving him, and a model ashe conceived of tenderness and constancy, devoured by secret remorse,and pursued by the scorn of mankind; a mark for slander to shoot at,and an outcast of society, did not visit his meditations in vain. Therigour of his principles began now to relent.
He considered that various occupations are incident to every man. Hecannot be invariably employed in the promotion of one purpose. He mustoccasionally unbend, if he desires that the springs of his mind shouldretain their due vigour. Suppose his life were divided between businessand amusement. This was a necessary distribution, and sufficientlycongenial with his temper. It became him to select with skill hissources of amusement. It is true that Helena was unable to participatein his graver occupations; What then? In whom were blended so manypleasurable attributes? In her were assembled an exquisite anddelicious variety. As it was, he was daily in her company. He shouldscarcely be more so, if marriage should take place. In that case, nochange in their mode of life would be necessary. There was no need ofdwelling under the same roof. His revenue was equal to the support ofmany household establishments. His personal independence would remainequally inviolate. No time, he thought, would diminish his influenceover the mind of Helena, and it was not to be forgotten that thetransition would to her be happy. It would reinstate her in the esteemof the world, and dispel those phantoms of remorse and shame by whichshe was at present persecuted.
These were plausible considerations. They tended at least to shakehis resolutions. Time would probably have compleated the conquest ofhis pride, had not a new incident set the question in a new light.
The narrative of Melbourne made a deeper impression on the mind ofhis guest than was at first apparent. This man's conduct was directedby the present impulse, and however elaborate his abstract notions, heseldom stopped to settle the agreement between his principles andactions. The use of money was a science like every other branch ofbenevolence, not reducible to any fixed principles. No man, in thedisbursement of money, could say whether he was conferring a benefit orinjury. The visible and immediate effects might be good, but evil wasits ultimate and general tendency. To be governed by a view to thepresent, rather than the future, was a human infirmity from which hedid not pretend to be exempt. This, though an insufficient apology forthe conduct of a rational being, was suitable to his indolence, and hewas content in all cases to employ it. It was thus that he reconciledhimself to beneficent acts, and humorously held himself up as an objectof censure, on occasions when most entitled to applause.
He easily procured information as to the character and situation ofthe Dudleys. Neigh bours are always inquisitive, and happily, in thiscase, were enabled to make no unfavorable report. He resolved, withouthesitation, to supply their wants. This he performed in a manner trulycharacteristic. There was a method of gaining access to families, andmarking them in their unguarded attitudes more easy and effectual thanany other: It required least preparation and cost least pains: Thedisguise, also, was of the most impenetrable kind. He had served a sortof occasional apprenticeship to the art, and executed its functionswith perfect case. It was the most entire and grotesque metamorphosisimaginable. It was stepping from the highest to the lowest rank insociety, and shifting himself into a form, as remote from his own, asthose recorded by Ovid. In a word, it was sometimes his practice toexchange his complexion and habiliments for those of a negro and achimney-sweep, and to call at certain doors for employment. This hegenerally secured by importunities, and the cheapness of hisservices.
When the loftiness of his port, and the punctiliousness of hisnicety were considered, we should never have believed, what yet couldbe truly asserted, that he had frequently swept his own chimneys,without the knowledge of his own servants. It was likewise true, thoughequally incredible, that he had played at romps with his scullion, andlistened with patience to a thousand slanders on his own character.
In this disguise he visited the house of Mr. Dudley. It was nineo'clock in the morning. He remarked, with critical eyes, the minutestcircumstance in the appearance and demeanour of his customers, andglanced curiously at the house and furniture. Every thing was new andevery thing pleased. The walls, though broken into roughness, bycarelessness or time, was adorned with glistening white. The floor,though loose and uneven, and with gaping seams, had received all theimprovements which cloth and brush could give. The pine tables, rushchairs, and uncurtained bed, had been purchased at half price, atvendue, and exhibited various tokens of decay, but care and neatnessand order were displayed in their condition and arrangement.
The lower apartment was the eating and sitting room. It was likewiseMr. Dudley's bed chamber. The upper room was occupied by Constance andher Lucy. viewed every thing with the accuracy of an artist, andcarried away with him a catalogue of every thing visible. The fadedform of Mr. Dudley that still retained its dignity, the sedateness,graceful condescension and personal elegance of Constantia, were new tothe apprehension of Ormond. The contrast between the house and itsinhabitants, rendered the appearance more striking. When he hadfinished his task, he retired, but returning in a quarter of an hour,he presented a letter to the young lady. He behaved as if by no meansdesirous of eluding her interrogatories, and when she desired him tostay, readily complied. The letter, unsigned and unsuperscribed, was tothis effect.
"The writer of this is acquainted with the transaction betweenThomas Craig and Mr. Dudley. The former is debtor to Mr. Dudley in alarge sum. I have undertaken to pay as much of this debt, and at suchtimes as suits my convenience. I have had pecuniary engagements withCraig. I hold myself, in the sum inclosed, discharging so much of hisdebt. The future payments are uncertain, but I hope they willcontribute to relieve the necessities of Mr. Dudley."
had calculated the amount of what would be necessary for the annualsubsistence of this family, on the present frugal plan. He hadregulated his disbursements accordingly.
It was natural to feel curiosity as to the writer of this epistle.The bearer displayed a prompt and talkative disposition. He had astaring eye and a grin of vivacity forever at command. When questionedby Constantia, he answered that the gentleman had forbidden him tomention his name or the place where he lived. Had he ever met with thesame person before? O yes. He had lived with him from a child. Hismother lived with him still and his brothers. His master had nothingfor him to do at home, so he sent him out sweeping chimneys, takingfrom him only half the money that he earned, that way. He was a verygood master.
Then the gentleman had been a long time in the city?
O yes. All his life he reckoned. He used to live in Walnut-Street,but now he's moved down town. Here he checked himself, and added, but Iforgets. I must not tell where he lives. He told me I must'nt.
He has a family and children, I suppose?
O yes. Why don't you know Miss Hetty and Miss Betsy----there again.I was going to tell the name, that he said I must not tell.
Constantia saw that the secret might be easily discovered, but sheforbore. She disdained to take advantage of this messenger's imaginedsimplicity. She dismissed him with some small addition to his demand,and with a promise always to employ him in this way.
By this mode, had effectually concealed himself. The lady'sconjectures, founded on this delusive information, necessarily wanderedwidely from the truth. The observations that he had made during thisvisit afforded his mind considerable employment. The manner in whichthis lady had sustained so cruel a reverse of fortune, the cheerfulnesswith which she appeared to forego all the gratifications of affluence;the skill with which she selected her path of humble industry, and thesteadiness with which she pursued it, were proofs of a moralconstitution, from which he supposed the female sex to be debarred. Thecomparison was obvious between Constantia and Hellen, and the resultwas by no means advantageous to the latter. Was it possible that suchan one descended to the level of her father's apprentice? That shesacrificed her honor to a wretch like that? This reflection tended torepress the inclination he would otherwise have felt for cultivatingher society, but it did not indispose him to benefit her in a certainway.
On his next visit to his "bella Siciliana," as he called her, hequestioned her as to the need in which she might stand of the servicesof a seamstress, and being informed that they were sometimes wanted, herecommended Miss Acworth to her patronage. He said that he had heardher spoken of in favorable terms, by the gossips at Melbourne's. Theyrepresented her as a good girl, slenderly provided for, and he wishedthat Hellen would prefer her to all others.
His recommendation was sufficient. The wishes of , as soon as theybecame known, became hers. Her temper made her always diligent insearch of novelty. It was easy to make work for the needle. In shortshe resolved to send for her the next day. The interview accordinglytook place on the ensuing morning, not without mutual surprise, and, onthe part of the fair Sicilian, not without considerableembarrassment.
This circumstance arose from their having changed their respectivenames, though from motives of a very different kind. They were notstrangers to each other, though no intimacy had ever subsisted betweenthem. Each was merely acquainted with the name, person, and generalcharacter of the other. No circumstance in Constantia's situationtended to embarrass her. Her mind had attained a state of serenecomposure, incapable of being ruffled by an incident of this kind. Shemerely derived pleasure from the sight of her old acquaintance. Theaspect of things around her was splendid and gay. She seemed themistress of the mansion, and her name was changed. Hence it wasunavoidable to conclude that she was married.
Helena was conscious that appearances were calculated to suggestthis conclusion. The idea was a painful one. She sorrowed to think thatthis conclusion was fallacious. The consciousness that her truecondition was unknown to her visitant, and the ignominiousness of thattruth, gave an air of constraint to her behaviour, which Constanceascribed to a principle of delicacy.
In the midst of reflections relative to herself, she admitted someshare of surprise at the discovery of Constance, in a situation soinferior to that in which she had formerly known her. She had heard, ingeneral terms, of the misfortunes of Mr. Dudley, but was unacquaintedwith particulars; but this surprize, and the difficulty of adapting herbehaviour to circumstances, was only in part the source of herembarrassment, though by her companion it was wholly attributed to thiscause. Constance thought it her duty to remove it by open andunaffected manners. She therefore said, in a sedate and cheerful tone,You see me, Madam, in a situation somewhat unlike that in which Iformerly was placed. You will probably regard the change as an unhappyone, but I assure you, I have found it far less so than I expected. Iam thus reduced not by my own fault. It is this reflection that enablesme to conform to it without a murmur. I shall rejoice to know that Mrs.Eden is as happy as I am.
Helena was pleased with this address, and returned an answer full ofsweetness. She had not, in her compassion for the fallen, a particle ofpride. She thought of nothing but the contrast between the formersituation of her visitant and the present. The fame of her greatqualities had formerly excited veneration, and that reverence was by nomeans diminished by a nearer scrutiny. The consciousness of her ownfrailty, meanwhile, diffused over the behaviour of Hellen, a timidityand dubiousness uncommonly fascinating. She solicited Constantia'sfriendship in a manner that shewed she was afraid of nothing butdenial. An assent was eagerly given, and thenceforth a cordialintercourse was established between them.
The real situation of Helena was easily discovered. The officiousperson who communicated this information, at the same time cautionedConstance against associating with one of tainted reputation. Thisinformation threw some light upon appearances. It accounted for thatmelancholy which Hellen was unable to conceal. It explained thatsolitude in which she lived, and which Constantia had ascribed to thedeath or absence of her husband. It justified the solicitous silenceshe had hitherto maintained respecting her own affairs, and which herfriend's good sense forbad her to employ any sinister means ofeluding.
No long time was necessary to make her mistress of Helena'scharacter. She loved her with uncommon warmth, though by no means blindto her defects. She formed no expectations, from the knowledge of hercharacter, to which this intelligence operated as a disappointment. Itmerely excited her pity, and made her thoughtful how she might assisther in repairing this deplorable error.
This design was of no ordinary magnitude. She saw that it waspreviously necessary to obtain the confidence of Helena. This was atask of easy performance. She knew the purity of her own motives andthe extent of her powers, and embarked in this undertaking with fullconfidence of success. She had only to profit by a private interview,to acquaint her friend with what she knew, to solicit a compleat andsatisfactory disclosure, to explain the impressions which herintelligence produced, and to offer her disinterested advice. No oneknew better how to couch her ideas in words, suitable to the endproposed by her in imparting them.
Hellen was at first terrified, but the benevolence of her friendquickly entitled her to confidence and gratitude that knew no limits.She had been deterred from unveiling her heart by the fear of excitingcontempt or abhorrence: But when she found that all due allowances weremade, that her conduct was treated as erroneous in no atrocious orinexpiable degree, and as far from being insusceptible of remedy; thatthe obloquy with which she had been treated, found no vindicator orparticipator in her friend, her heart was considerably relieved. Shehad been long a stranger to the sympathy and intercourse of her ownsex. Now, this good, in its most precious form, was conferred upon her,and she experienced an increase, rather than diminution of tenderness,in consequence of her true situation being known.
She made no secret of any part of her history. She did full justiceto the integrity of her lover, and explained the unforced conditions onwhich she had consented to live with him. This relation exhibited thecharacter of in a very uncommon light. His asperities wounded, and hissternness chilled. What unauthorised conceptions of matrimonial andpolitical equality did he entertain! He had fashioned his treatment ofHelena on sullen and ferocious principles. Yet he was able, it seemed,to mould her, by means of them, nearly into the creature that hewished. She knew too little of the man justly to estimate hischaracter. It remained to be ascertained whether his purposes wereconsistent and upright, or were those of a villain and betrayer.
Meanwhile what was to be done by Hellena? Marriage had been refusedon plausible pretences. Her unenlightened understanding made her nomatch for her lover. She would never maintain her claim to nuptialprivileges in his presence, or if she did, she would never convince himof their validity.
Were they indeed valid? Was not the desparity between themincurable? A marriage of minds so dissimilar could only be productiveof misery immediately to him, and by a reflex operation, to herself.She could not be happy in a union that was the source of regret to herhusband. Marriage therefore was not possible, or if possible, was not,perhaps, to be wished. But what was the choice that remained?
To continue in her present situation was not to be endured. Disgracewas a dæmon that would blast every hope of happiness. She wasexcluded from all society but that of the depraved. Her situation waseminently critical. It depended, perhaps, on the resolution she shouldnow form whether she should be enrolled among the worst of mankind.Infamy is the worst of evils. It creates innumerable obstructions inthe path of virtue. It manacles the hand, and entangles the feet thatare active only to good. To the weak it is an evil of much greatermagnitude. It determines their destiny, and they hasten to merit thatreproach, which, at first it may be, they did not deserve.
This connection is intrinsically flagitious. Hellen is subjected byit to the worst ills that are incident to humanity, the generalcontempt of mankind, and the reproaches of her own conscience. Fromthese, there is but one method from which she can hope to be relieved.The intercourse must cease.
It was easier to see the propriety of separation, than to projectmeans for accomplishing it. It was true that Helena loved; but whatquarter was due to this passion when divorced from integrity? Is it notin every bosom a perishable sentiment? Whatever be her warmth, absencewill congeal it. Place her in new scenes, and supply her with newassociates. Her accomplishments will not fail to attract votaries. Fromthese she may select a conjugal companion suitable to her mediocrity oftalents.
But alas! What power on earth can prevail on her to renounce ?Others may justly entertain this prospect, but it must be invisible toher. Besides, is it absolutely certain that either her peace of mind orher reputation will be restored by this means? In the opinion of theworld her offences cannot, by any perseverance in penitence, beexpiated. She will never believe that separation will exterminate herpassion. Certain it is, that it will avail nothing to thereestablishment of her fame: But if it were conducive to these ends,how chimerical to suppose that she will ever voluntarily adopt it? IfOrmond refuse his concurrence, there is absolutely an end to hope. Andwhat power on earth is able to sway his determinations? At least whatinfluence was it possible for her to obtain over them?
Should they separate, whither should she retire? What mode ofsubsistence should she adopt? She has never been accustomed to thinkbeyond the day. She has eaten and drank, but another has provided themeans. She scarcely comprehends the principle that governs the world,and in consequence of which, nothing can be gained but by givingsomething in exchange for it. She is ignorant and helpless as a child,on every topic that relates to the procuring of subsistence. Hereducation has disabled her from standing alone.
But this was not all. She must not only be supplied by others, butsustained in the enjoyment of a luxurious existence. Would you bereaveher of the gratifications of opulence? You had better take away herlife. Nay, it would ultimately amount to this. She can live but in oneway.
At present she is lovely, and, to a certain degree, innocent, butexpose her to the urgencies and temptations of want, let personalpollution be the price set upon the voluptuous affluences of herpresent condition, and it is to be feared there is nothing in thecontexture of her mind to hinder her from making the purchase. In everyrespect therefore the prospect was an hopeless one. So hopeless thather mind insensibly returned to the question which she had at firstdismissed with very slight examination, the question relative to theadvantages and probabilities of marriage. A more accurate reviewconvinced her that this was the most eligible alternative. It was,likewise, most easily effected. The lady, of course, would be itsfervent advocate. There did not want reasons why should finally embraceit. In what manner appeals to his reason or his passion might mosteffectually be made, she knew not.
Hellen was illy qualified to be her own advocate. Her unhappinesscould not but be visible to . He had shewn himself attentive andaffectionate. Was it impossible that, in time, he should reason himselfinto a spontaneous adoption of this scheme? This, indeed, was a slenderfoundation for hope, but there was no other on which she couldbuild.
Such were the meditations of Constantia on this topic. She wasdeeply solicitous for the happiness of her friend. They spent much oftheir time together. The consolations of her society were earnestlysought by Helena, but to enjoy them, she was for the most part obligedto visit the former at her own dwelling. For this arrangement,Constance apologized by saying, You will pardon my requesting you tofavor me with your visits, rather than allowing you mine. Every thingis airy and brilliant within these walls. There is, besides, an air ofseclusion and security about you that is delightful. In comparison, mydwelling is bleak, comfortless, and unretired, but my father isentitled to all my care. His infirmity prevents him from amusinghimself, and his heart is cheered by the mere sound of my voice, thoughnot addressed to him. The mere belief of my presence seems to operateas an antidote to the dreariness of solitude; and now you know mymotives, I am sure you will not only forgive but approve of myrequest.
When once the subject had been introduced, Helena was prone todescant upon her own situation, and listened with deference to theremarks and admonitions of her companion. Constantia did not concealfrom her any of her sentiments. She enabled her to view her owncondition in its true light, and set before her the indispensibleadvantages of marriage, while she, at the same time, afforded her thebest directions as to the conduct she ought to pursue in order toeffect her purpose.
The mind of Helena was thus kept in a state of perpetual and uneasyfluctuation. While absent from , or listening to her friend'sremonstrances, the deplorableness of her condition, arose in its mostdisastrous hues, before her imagination. But the spectre seldom failedto vanish at the approach of Ormond. His voice dissipated everyinqnietude.
She was not insensible of this inconstancy. She perceived andlamented her own weakness. She was destitute of all confidence in herown exertions. She could not be in the perpetual enjoyment of hiscompany. Her intervals of tranquility therefore were short, while thoseof anxiety and dejection were insupportably tedious. She revered, but,believed herself incapable to emulate the magnanimity of her monitor.The consciousness of inferiority, especially in a case like this, inwhich her happiness so much depended on her own exertions, excited inher the most humiliating sensations.
While indulging in fruitless melancholy, the thought one dayoccurred to her, why may not Constantia be prevailed upon to plead mycause? Her capacity and courage are equal to any undertaking. Thereasonings that are so powerful in my eyes, would they be trivial andfutile in those of ? I cannot have a more pathetic and disinterestedadvocate.
This idea was cherished with uncommon ardour. She seized the firstopportunity that offered itself to impart it to her friend. It was awild and singular proposal and was rejected at the first glance. Thisscheme, so romantic and impracticable as it at first seemed, appearedto Hellen in the most plausible colours. She could not bear torelinquish her new born hopes. She saw no valid objection to it. Everything was easy to her friend, provided her sense of duty and her zealcould be awakened. The subject was frequently suggested to Constantia'sreflections. Perceiving the sanguineness of her friend's confidence,and fully impressed with the value of the end to be accomplished, sheinsensibly veered to the same opinion. At least, the scheme was worthyof a candid discussion before it was rejected.
was a stranger to her. His manners were repulsive and austere. Shewas a mere girl. Her personal attachment to Helena was all that shecould plead in excuse for taking part in her concerns. The subject wasdelicate. A blunt and irregular character like Ormond's, might throw anair of ridicule over the scene. She shrunk from the encounter of aboisterous and manlike spirit.
But were not these scruples effeminate and puerile? Had she studiedso long in the school of adversity, without conviction of the duty of avirtuous independence? Was she not a rational being, fully imbued withthe justice of her cause? Was it not ignoble to refuse the province ofa vindicator of the injured, before any tribunal, however tremendous orunjust? And who was , that his eye should inspire terror?
The father or brother of Helena might assume the office withoutindecorum. Nay, a mother or sister might not be debarred from it. Whythen should she who was actuated by equal zeal, and was engaged, byties stronger than consanguinity, in the promotion of her friend'shappiness. It is true she did not view the subject in the light inwhich it was commonly viewed by brothers and parents. It was not a gustof rage that should transport her into his presence. She did not go toawaken his slumbering conscience, and abash him in the pride of guiltytriumph, but to rectify deliberate errors and change his course by thechange of his principles. It was her business to point out to him theroad of duty and happiness, from which he had strayed with no sinisterintentions. This was to be done without raving and fury, but withamicable soberness, and in the way of calm and rational remonstrance.Yet there were scruples that would not be shut out, and continuallywhispered her, What an office is this for a girl and a stranger toassume?
In what manner should it be performed? Should an interview besought, and her ideas be explained without confusion or faultering,undismayed by ludicrous airs or insolent frowns? But this was a pointto be examined. Was capable of such behaviour? If he were, it would beuseless to attempt the reformation of his errors. Such a man isincurable and obdurate. Such a man is not to be sought as the husbandof Helena; but this surely is a different being.
The medium through which she had viewed his character was an ampleone, but might not be very accurate. The treatment which Helena hadreceived from him, exclusive of his fundamental error, betokened a mindto which she did not disdain to be allied. In spite of his defects shesaw that their elements were more congenial, and the points ofcontract, between this person and herself, more numerous, than betweenher and Helena, whose voluptuous sweetness of temper and mediocrity ofunderstanding, excited in her bosom no genuine sympathy.
Every thing is progressive in the human mind. When there is leisureto reflect, ideas will succeed each other in a long train, before theultimate point be gained. The attention must shift from one side to theother of a given question many times before it settles. Constantia didnot form her resolutions in haste, but when once formed, they wereexempt from fluctuation. She reflected before she acted, and thereforeacted with consistency and vigour. She did not apprise her friend ofher intention. She was willing that she should benefit by herinterposition, before she knew it was employed.
She sent her Lucy with a note to 's house. It was couched in theseterms:
"Constance Dudley requests an interview with Mr. . Her businessbeing of some moment, she wishes him to name an hour when mostdisengaged."
An answer was immediately returned, that at three o'clock, in theafternoon, he should be glad to see her.
This message produced no small surprise in . He had not withdrawnhis notice from Constance, and had marked, with curiosity andapprobation, the progress of the connexion between the two women. Theimpressions which he had received from the report of Hellen, were notdissimilar to those which Constance had imbibed, from the same quarter,respecting himself; but he gathered from them no suspicion of thepurpose of a visit. He recollected his connection with Craig. This ladyhad had an opportunity of knowing that some connection subsistedbetween them. He concluded, that some information or enquiry respectingCraig, might occasion this event. As it was, it gave him considerablesatisfaction. It would enable him more closely to examine one, withrespect to whom he entertained great curiosity.
's conjecture was partly right. Constantia did not forget her havingtraced Craig to this habitation. She designed to profit by theoccasion, which this circumstance afforded her, of making some enquiryrespecting Craig, in order to introduce, by suitable degrees, a moreimportant subject.
The appointed hour having arrived, he received her in hisdrawing-room. He knew what was due to his guest. He loved to mortify,by his negligence, the pride of his equals and superiors, but a lowerclass had nothing to fear from his insolence. Constantia took the seatthat was offered to her, without speaking. She had made suitablepreparations for this interview, and her composure was invincible. Themanners of her host were by no means calculated to disconcert her. Hisair was conciliating and attentive.
She began with naming Craig, as one known to , and desired to beinformed of his place of abode. She was proceeding to apologize forthis request, by explaining in general terms, that her father'sinfirmities prevented him from acting for himself, that Craig was hisdebtor to a large amount, that he stood in need of all that justlybelonged to him, and was in pursuit of some means for tracing Craig tohis retreat. Ormond interrupted her, examining, at the same time, witha vigilance, somewhat too unsparing, the effects which his words shouldproduce upon her.
You may spare yourself the trouble of explaining. I am acquaintedwith the whole affair between Craig and your family. He has concealedfrom me nothing. I know all that has passed between you.
In saying this, intended that his looks and emphasis should conveyhis full meaning. In the style of her comments he saw none of thosecorroborating symptoms that he expected.
Indeed! He has been very liberal of his confidence. Confession is atoken of penitence, but, alas! I fear he has deceived you. To besincere was doubtless his true interest, but he is too much in thehabit of judging superficially. If he has told you all, there is,indeed, no need of explanation. This visit is, in that case,sufficiently accounted for. Is it in your power, Sir, to inform uswhither he has gone?
For what end should I tell you? I promise you you will not followhim. Take my word for it, he is totally unworthy of you. Let the pastbe no precedent for the future. If you have not made that discoveryyourself, I have made it for you. I expect, at least, to be thanked formy trouble.
This speech was unintelligible to Constance. Her looks betokened aperplexity unmingled with fear or shame.
It is my way, continued he, to say what I think. I care little forconsequences. I have said that I know all. This will excuse me forbeing perfectly explicit. That I am mistaken is very possible; but I aminclined to place that matter beyond the reach of a doubt. Listen tome, and confirm me in the opinion I have already formed of your goodsense, by viewing, in a just light, the unreservedness with which youare treated. I have something to tell, which, if you are wise, you willnot be offended at my telling so roundly. On the contrary you willthank me, and perceive that my conduct is a proof of my respect foryou. The person whom you met here is named Craig, but, as he tells me,is not the man you look for. This man's brother, the partner of yourfather, and, as he assured me, your own accepted and illicitlygratified lover, is dead.
These words were uttered without any extenuating hesitation ordepression of tone. On the contrary, the most offensive terms weredrawn out in the most deliberate and emphatic manner. Constantia'scheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled with indignation, but she forboreto interrupt. The looks with which she listened to the remainder of thespeech, shewed that she fully comprehended the scene, and enabled himto comprehend it. He proceeded.
This man is a brother of that. Their resemblance in figureoccasioned your mistake. Your father's debtor died, it seems, on hisarrival at Jamaica. There he met with this brother, and bequeathed tohim his property and papers. Some of these papers are in my possession.They are letters from Constantia Dudley, and are parts of an intriguewhich, considering the character of the man, was not much to her honor.Such was this man's narrative told to me some time bfore your meetingwith him at this house. I have a right to judge in this affair, thatis, I have a right to my opinion. If I mistake, and I half suspectmyself, you are able, perhaps, to rectify my error, and in a case likethis, doubtless you will not want the inclination.
Perhaps if the countenance of this man had not been characterized bythe keenest intelligence, and a sort of careless and overflowing goodwill, this speech might have produced different effects. She wasprepared, though imperfectly, for entering into his character. Hewaited for an answer, which she gave without emotion.
You are deceived. I am sorry for your own sake, that you are. Hemust had some end in view, in imposing these falsehoods upon you,which, perhaps, they have enabled him to accomplish. As to myself, thisman can do me no injury. I willingly make you my judge. The letters youspeak of will alone suffice to my vindication. They never were receivedfrom me, and are forgeries. That man always persisted till he madehimself the dupe of his own artifices. That incident in his plot, onthe introduction of which he probably the most applauded himself, willmost powerfully operate to defeat it.
Those letters never were received from me, and are forgeries. Hisskill in imitation extended no farther in the present case, than myhand-writing. My modes of thinking and expression were beyond the reachof his mimicry.
When she had finished, spent a moment in ruminating. I perceive youare right, said he. I suppose he has purloined from me two hundredguineas, which I entrusted to his fidelity. And yet I received aletter:--but that may likewise be a forgery. By my soul, continued he,in a tone that had more of satisfaction than disappointment in it, thisfellow was an adept at his trade. I do not repine. I have bought theexhibition at a cheap rate. The pains that he took did not merit a lessrecompense. I am glad that he was contented with so little. Had hepersisted he might have raised the price far above its value. 'Twill belamentable if he receive more than he stipulated for; if, in his lastpurchase, the gallows should be thrown into the bargain. May he havethe wisdom to see that an halter, though not included in his terms, isonly a new instance of his good fortune: But his cunning will hardlycarry him thus far. His stupidity will, no doubt, prefer a lingering toa sudden exit.
But this man and his destiny are trifles. Let us leave them tothemselves. Your name is Constance. 'Twas given you I suppose that youmight be known by it. Pr'ythee, Constance, was this the only purposethat brought you hither? If it were, it has received as ample adiscussion as it merits. You came for this end, but will remain, Ihope, for a better one. Having dismissed Craig and his plots, let usnow talk of each other.
I confess, said the lady, with an hesitation she could not subdue,this was not my only purpose. One much more important has produced thisvisit.
Indeed! pray let me know it. I am glad that so trivial an object asCraig, did not occupy the first place in your thoughts. Proceed Ibeseech you.
It is a subject on which I cannot enter without hesitation. Anhesitation unworthy of me.--
Stop, cried , rising and touching the bell, nothing like time tomake a conquest of embarrassment. We will defer this conference sixminutes, just while we eat our dinner.
At the same moment a servant entered, with two plates and the usualapparatus for dinner. On seeing this she rose in some hurry, to depart.I thought, Sir, you were disengaged. I will call at some otherhour.
He seized her hand, and held her from going, but with an air by nomeans disrespectful. Nay, said he, what is it that seares you away? Areyou terrified at the mention of victuals? You must have fasted longwhen it comes to that. I told you true. I am disengaged, but not fromthe obligation of eating and drinking. No doubt you have dined. Noreason why I should go without my dinner. If you do not chuse topartake with me, so much the better. Your temperance ought to dispensewith two meals in an hour. Be a looker-on, or, if that will not do,retire into my library, where, in six minutes, I will be with you; andlend you my aid in the arduous task of telling me what you came with anintention of telling.
This singular address disconcerted and abashed her. She wascontented to follow the servant silently into an adjoining apartment.Here she reflected with no small surprize on the behaviour of this man.Though ruffled, she was not heartily displeased with it. She hadscarcely time to recollect herself, when he entered. He immediatelyseated her, and himself opposite to her. He fixed his eyes withoutscruple on her face. His gaze was steadfast, but not insolent oroppressive. He surveyed her with the looks with which he would haveeyed a charming portrait. His attention was occupied with what he saw,as that of an Artist is occupied when viewing a Madonna of Rafaello. Atlength he broke silence.
At dinner I was busy in thinking what it was you had to disclose. Iwill not fatigue you with my guesses. They would be impertinent, aslong as the truth is going to be disclosed--He paused, and thencontinued: But I see you cannot dispense with my aid. Perhaps yourbusiness relates to Hellen. She has done wrong, and you wish me torebuke the girl.
Constantia profited by this opening, and said, Yes, she has donewrong. It is true, my business relates to her. I came hither as asuppliant in her behalf. Will you not assist her in recovering the pathfrom which she has deviated? She left it from confiding more in thejudgment of her guide than her own. There is one method of repairingthe evil. It lies with you to repair that evil.
During this address, the gaiety of disappeared. He fixed his eyes onConstance with new and even pathetic earnestness. I guessed as much,said he. I have often been deceived in my judgment of characters.Perhaps I do not comprehend your's: Yet it is not little that I haveheard respecting you. Something I have seen. I begin to suspect amaterial error in my theory of human nature. Happy will it be forHellen if my suspicions be groundless.
You are Hellen's friend. Be mine also, and advise me. Shall I marrythis girl or not? You know on what terms we live. Are they suitable toour respective characters? Shall I wed this girl, or shall thingsremain as they are?
I have an irreconcilable aversion to a sad brow and a sick bed.Hellen is grieved, because her neighbours sneer and point at her. Sofar she is a fool, but that is a folly of which she never will becured. Marriage, it seems, will set all right. Answer me, Constance,shall I marry?
There was something in the tone, but more in the tenor of thisaddress that startled her. There was nothing in this man but what cameupon her unaware. This sudden effusion of confidence, was particularlyunexpected and embarrassing. She scarcely knew whether to regard it asserious or a jest. On observing her indisposed to speak, hecontinued:
Away with these impertinent circuities and scruples. I know yourmeaning. Why should I pretend ignorance, and put you to the trouble ofexplanation? You came hither with no other view than to exact thisquestion, and furnish an answer. Why should not we come at once to thepoint? I have for some time been dubious on this head. There issomething wanting to determine the balance. If you have that something,throw it into the proper scale.
You err if you think this manner of addressing you is wild orimproper. This girl is the subject of discourse. If she was not to beso, why did you favor me with this visit? You have sought me, andintroduced yourself. I have, in like manner, overlooked ordinary forms:A negligence that has been systematic with me; but, in the presentcase, particularly justifiable by your example. Shame upon you,presumptuous girl, to suppose yourself the only rational being amongmankind. And yet, ifyou thought so, why did you thus unceremoniouslyintrude upon my retirements? This act is of a piece with the rest. Itshews you to be one whose existence I did not believe possible.
Take care. You know not what you have done. You came hither asHellen's friend. Perhaps time may shew that in this visit, you haveperformed the behest of her bitterest enemy. But that is out of season.This girl is our mutual property. You are her friend; I am her lover.Her happiness is precious in my eyes and in your's. To the rest ofmankind she is a noisome weed, that cannot be shunned too cautiously,nor trampled on too much. If we forsake her, infamy that is now kept atbay, will seize upon her, and while it mangles her form, will tear fromher her innocence. She has no arms with which to contend against thatfoe. Marriage will place her at once in security. Shall it be? You havean exact knowledge of her strength and her weakness. Of me, you knowlittle. Perhaps, before that question can be satisfactorily answered,it is requisite to know the qualities of her husband. Be my characterhenceforth the subject of your study. I will furnish you with all thelight in my power. Be not hasty in deciding, but when your decision isformed, let me know it.--He waited for an answer, which she, at length,summoned resolution enough to give.
You have come to the chief point which I had in view in making thisvisit. To say truth, I came hither to remonstrate with you onwithholding that which Helena may justly claim from you. Her happinesswill be unquestionably restored, and increased by it. Your's will notbe impaired. Matrimony will not produce any essential change in yoursituation. It will produce no greater or different intercouse than nowexists. Helena is on the brink of a gulf which I shudder to look upon.I believe that you will not injure yourself by snatching her from it. Iam sure that you will confer an inexpressible benefit upon her. Let methen persuade you to do her and yourself justice.
No persuasion, said , after recovering from a fit of thoughtfulness,is needful for this end; I only want to be convinced. You have decided,but I fear hastily. By what inscrutable influences are our stepsguided. Come, proceed in your exhortations. Argue with the utmostclearness and cogency. Arm yourself with all the irresistibles ofeloquence. Yet you are building nothing. You are only demolishing. Yourargument is one thing. It's tendency is another; and is the reverse ofall you expect and desire. My assent will be refused with an obstinacyproportioned to the force that you exert to obtain it, and to the justapplication of that force.
I see, replied the lady, smiling and leaving her seat, you can talkin riddles, as well as other people. This visit has been too long. Ishall, indeed, be sorry, if my interference, instead of serving myfriend, has injured her. I have acted an uncommon, and, as it may seem,an ambiguous part. I shall be contented with construing my motives inmy own way. I wish you a good evening.
'Tis false, cried he, sternly, you do not wish it.
How? Exclaimed the astonished Constance.
I will put your sincerity to the test. Allow me to spend thisevening in your company: Then it will be well spent, and I shallbelieve your wishes sincere: Else, continued he, changing his affectedausterity into a smile, Constance is a liar.
You are a singular man. I hardly know how to understand you.
Well. Words are made to carry meanings. You shall have them inabundance. Your house is your citadel. I will not enter it withoutleave. Permit me to visit you when I please. But that is too much. Itis more than I would allow you. When will you permit me to visityou?
I cannot answer when I do not understand. You cloathe your thoughtsin a garb so uncouth, that I know not in what light they are to beviewed.
Well, now, I thought you understood my language, and were anEnglish-woman, but I will use another. Shall I have the honor (bowingwith a courtly air of supplication) of occasionally paying my respectsto you at your own dwelling. It would be cruel to condemn those whohave the happiness of knowing Miss Dudley, to fashionable restraints.At what hour will she be least incommoded by a visitant?
I am as little pleased with formalities, replied the lady, as youare. My friends I cannot see too often. They need to consult merelytheir own convenience. Those who are not my friends I cannot see tooseldom. You have only to establish your title to that name, and yourwelcome at all times, is sure. Till then you must not look for it.
Here ended this conference. She had, by no means, suspected themanner in which it would be conducted. All punctilios were trampledunder foot, by the impetuosity of . Things were, at once, and withoutdelay, placed upon a certain footing. The point, which ordinary personswould have employed months in attaining, was reached in a moment. Whilethese incidents were fresh in her memory, they were accompanied with asort of trepidation, the offspring at once of pleasure andsurprise.
had not deceived her expectations, but hearsay and personalexamination, however uniform their testimony may be, produce a verydifferent impression. In her present reflections, Hellen and her loverapproached to the front of the stage, and were viewed with equalperspicuity. One consequence of this was, that their characters weremore powerfully contrasted with with each other, and the eligibility ofmarriage, appeared not quite so incontestible as before.
Was not equality implied in this compact? Marriage is an insrumentof pleasure or pain in proportion as this equality is more or less.What, but the fascination of his senses is it, that ties to Hellen. Isthis a basis on which marriage may properly be built?
If things had not gone thus far, the impropriety of marriage couldnot be doubted; but, at present, there is a choice of evils, and thatmay now be desirable, which at a former period, and in differentcircumstances, would have been clearly otherwise.
The evils of the present connection are known; those of marriage arefuture and contingent; Hellen cannot be the object of a genuine andlasting passion; another may; this is not merely possible; nothing ismore likely to happen: This event, therefore, ought to be included inour calculation. There would be a material deficiency without it. Whatwas the amount of the misery that would, in this case, ensue.
Constantia was qualified, beyond most others, to form an adequateconception of this misery. One of the ingredients in her character wasa mild and steadfast enthusiasm. Her sensibilities to social pleasure,and her conceptions of the benefits to flow from the conformity andconcurrence of intentions and wishes, heightening and refining thesensual passion, were exquisite.
There, indeed, were evils, the foresight of which tended to preventthem, but was there wisdom in creating obstacles in the way of asuitable alliance. Before we act, we must consider not only the miseryproduced, but the happiness precluded by our measures.
In no case, perhaps, is the decision of an human being impartial, ortotally uninfluenced by sinister and selfilsh motives. If Constantiasurpassed others, it was not, because, her motives were pure, but,because, they possessed more of purty than those of others. Sinisterconsiderations flow in upon us through imperceptible channels, andmodify our thoughts in numberless ways, without our being trulyconscious of their presence. Constance was young, and her heart wasopen at a thousand pores, to the love of excellence. The image ofoccupied the chief place in her fancy, and was endowed with attractiveand venerable qualities. A bias was hence created that swayed herthoughts, though she knew not that they were swayed. To this mightjustly be imputed, some part of that reluctance which she now felt togive Ormond to Hellen. But this was not sufficient to turn the scale.That which had previously mounted, was indeed heavier than before, butthis addition did not enable it to outweight its opposite. Marriage wasstill the best upon the whole, but her heart was tortured to thinkthat, best as it was, it abounded with so many evils.
On the evening of the next day, entered with careless abruptness,Constantia's sitting apartment. He was introduced to her father. Ageneral and unrestrained conversation immediately took place. Ormondaddressed Mr. Dudley with the familiarity of an old acquaintance. Inthree minutes, all embarrassment was discarded. The lady and hervisitant were accurate observers of each other. In the remarks of thelatter, and his vein was an abundant one, there was a freedom andoriginality altogether new to his hearers. In his easiest andsprightliest sallies were tokens of a mind habituated to profound andextensive views. His associations were formed on a comprehensivescale.
He pretended to nothing, and studied the concealments of ambiguitymore in reality than in appearance. Constantia, however, discovered asufficient resemblance between their theories of virtue and duty. Thedifference between them lay in the inferences arbitrarily deduced, andin which two persons may vary without end, and yet never be repugnant.Constantia delighted her companion by the facility with which sheentered into his meaning, the sagacity she displayed in drawing out hishints, circumscribing his conjectures, and thwarting or qualifying hismaxims. The scene was generally replete with ardour and contention, andyet the impression left on the mind of was full of harmony. Herdiscourse tended to rouse him from his lethargy, to furnish him withpowerful excitements, and the time spent in her company, seemed like adoubling of existence.
The comparison could not but suggest itself, between this scene andthat exhibited by Hellen. With the latter voluptuous blandishments,musical prattle, and silent but expressive homage, composed a banquetdelicious for a while, but whose sweetness now began to pall upon histaste. It supplied him with no new ideas, and hindered him, by thelulling sensations it inspired, from profiting by his formeracquisitions. Helena was beautiful. Apply the scale, and not a memberwas found inelegantly disposed, or negligently moulded. Not a curvethat was blemished by an angle or ruffled by asperities. Theirradiations of her eyes were able to dissolve the knottiest fibres,and their azure was serene beyond any that nature had elsewhereexhibited. Over the rest of her form the glistening and rosy hues werediffused with prodigal luxuriance, and mingled in endless and wantonvariety. Yet this image had fewer attractions event to the senses thanthat of Constance. So great is the difference between forms animated bydifferent degrees of intelligence.
The interviews of and Constance grew more frequent. The progresswhich they made in the knowledge of each other was rapid. Twopositions, that were favorite ones with him, were quickly subverted. Hewas suddently changed, from being one of the calumniators of the femalesex, to one of its warmest eulogists. This was a point on whichConstantia had ever been a vigorous disputant, but her arguments, intheir direct tendency, would never have made a convert of this man.Their force, intrinsically considered, was nothing. He drew hisconclusions from incidental circumstances. Her reasonings might befallacious or valid, but they were so composed, arranged and delivered,were drawn from such sources, and accompanied with such illustrations,as plainly testified a manlike energy in the reasoner. In this indirectand circuitous way, her point was unanswerably established.
Your reasoning is bad, he would say; Every one of your conclusionsis false. Not a single allegation but may be easily confuted, and yet Iallow that your position is uncontrovertibly proved by them. Howbewildered is that man who never thinks for himself! Who rejects aprinciple merely because the arguments brought in support of it areinsufficient. I must not reject the truth, because another hasunjustifiably adopted it. I want to reach a certain hill-top. Anotherhas reached it before me, but the ladder he used is too weak to bearme. What then? Am I to stay below on that account? No: I have only toconstruct one suitable to the purpose, and of strength sufficient.
A second maxim had never been confuted till now. It inculcated theinsignificance and hollowness of love. No pleasure he thought was to bedespised for its own sake. Every thing was good in its place, butamorous gratifications were to be degraded to the bottom of thecatalogue. The enjoyments of music and landscape, were of a much higherorder. Epicurism itself was entitled to more respect. Love, in itself,was in his opinion, of little worth, and only of importance as thesource of the most terrible of intellectual maladies. Sexual sensationsassociating themselves, in a certain way, with our ideas, beget adisease, which has, indeed, found no place in the catalogue, but is acase of more entire subversion and confusion of mind than any other.The victim is callous to the sentiments of honor and shame, insensibleto the most palpable distinctions of right and wrong, a systematicopponent of testimony, and obstinate perverter of truth.
was partly right. Madness like death can be averted by no foresightor previous contrivance. This probably is one of its characteristicks.He that witnesses its influence on another, with most horror, and mostfervently deprecates its revages, is not therefore more safe. Thiscircumstance was realized in the history of Ormond.
This infatuation, if it may so be called, was gradual in itsprogress. The sensations which Hellen was now able to excite, were of anew kind. Her power was not merely weakened, but her endeavourscounteracted their own end. Her fondness was rejected with disdain, orborne with reluctance. The lady was not slow in perceiving this change.The stroke of death would have been more acceptable. His ownreflections were too tormenting, to make him willing to discuss them inwords. He was not aware of the effects produced by this change in hisdemeanour, till informed of it by herself.
One evening he displayed symptoms of uncommon dissatisfaction. Hertenderness was unable to dispel it. He complained of want of sleep.This afforded an hint, which she drew forth into one of her enchantingditties. Habit had almost conferred upon her the power of spontaneouspoesy, and while she pressed his forehead to her bosom, she warbledforth a strain airy and exuberant in numbers, tender and exstatic inits imagery.
Sleep, extend thy downy pinion, Hasten from thy Cell with speed;Spread around thy soft dominion; Much those brows thy balmy presenceneed. Wave thy wand of slumberous power, Moistened in Lethean dews, Tocharm the busy spirits of the hour, And brighten memory's malignanthues.
Thy mantle, dark and starless, cast Over my selected youth; Bury, inthy womb, the mournful past, And soften, with thy dreams, theasperities of truth. The changeful hues of his impassioned sleep, Myoffice it shall be to watch the while; With thee, my love, when fancyprompts, to weep, And when thou smile'st, to smile. But sleep! I chargethee, visit not these eyes, Nor raise thy dark pavillion here, Tillmorrow from the cave of ocean rise, And whisper tuneful joy in nature'sear. But mutely let me lie, and sateless gaze At all the soul that inhis visage sits, While spirits of harmonious air,--
Here her voice sunk, and the line terminated in a sigh. Her musefulardours were chilled by the looks of . Absorbed in his own thoughts, heappeared scarcely to attend to this strain. His sternness was proofagainst her accustomed fascinations. At length she patheticallycomplained of his coldness, and insinuated her suspicions, that hisaffection was transferred to another object. He started from herembrace, and after two or three turns across the room, he stood beforeher. His large eyes were steadfastly fixed upon her face.
Aye, said he, thou hast guessed right. The love, poor as it was,that I had for thee, is gone. Henceforth thou art desolate indeed.Would to God thou wert wise. Thy woes are but beginning; I fear theywill terminate fatally; If so, the catastrophe cannot come tooquickly.
I disdain to appeal to thy justice, Hellen, to remind thee ofconditions solemnly and explicitly assumed. Shall thy blood be upon thyown head? No. I will bear it myself. Though the load would crush amountain, I will bear it.
I cannot help it; I make not myself; I am moulded by circumstances:Whether I shall love thee or not, is no longer in my own choice.Marriage is, indeed, still in my power. I may give thee my name, andshare with thee my fortune. Will these content thee? Thou canst notpartake of my love. Thous canst have no part in my tenderness. Theseare reserved for another more worthy than thou.
But no. Thy state is, to the last degree, forlorn: Even marriage isdenied thee. Thou wast contented to take me without it; to dispensewith the name of wife, but the being who has displaced thy image in myheart, is of a different class. She will be to me a wife, or nothing,and I must be her husband, or perish.
Do not deceive thyself, Hellen. I know what it is in which thou hastplaced thy felicity. Life is worth retaining by thee, but on onecondition. I know the incurableness of thy infirmity; but be notdeceived. Thy happiness is ravished from thee. The condition on whichthou consentedst to live, is annulled. I love thee no longer.
No truth was ever more delicious; none was ever more detestable. Ifight against conviction, and I cling to it. That I love thee nolonger, is at once a subject of joy and of mourning. I struggle tobelieve thee superior to this shock: That thou wilt be happy thoughdeserted by me. Whatever be thy destiny, my reason will not allow me tobe miserable on that account: Yet I would give the world; I wouldforfeit every claim but that which I hope upon the heart of Constance,to be sure that thy tranquillity will survive this stroke.
But let come what will, look no longer to me for offices of love.Henceforth, all intercourse of tenderness ceases. Perhaps all personalintercourse whatever. But though this good be refused, thou art sure ofindependence. I will guard thy ease and thy honor with a father'sscrupulousness. Would to heaven a sister could be created by adoption.I am willing, for thy sake, to be an imposter. I will own thee to theworld for my sister, and carry thee whither the cheat shall never bedetected. I would devote my whole life to prevarication and falsehood,for thy sake, if that would suffice to make thee happy.
To this speech Helena had nothing to answer. Her sobs and tearschoaked all utterance. She hid her face with her handkerchief, and satpowerless and overwhelmed with despair. traversed the room uneasily.Sometimes moving to and fro with quick steps, sometimes standing andeyeing her with looks of compassion. At length he spoke:
It is time to leave you. This is the first night that you will spendin dreary solitude. I know it will be sleepless and full of agony; butthe sentence cannot be recalled. Henceforth regard me as a brother. Iwill prove myself one. All other claims are swallowed up in a superioraffection.---In saying this, he left the house, and almost withoutintending it, found himself in a few minutes at Mr. Dudley's door.
The politeness of Melbourne had somewhat abated Mr. Dudley'saversion to society. He allowed himself sometimes to comply with urgentinvitations. On this evening he happened to be at the house of thatgentleman. entered, and found Constantia alone. An interview of thiskind was seldom enjoyed, though earnestly wished for by Constantia, whowas eager to renew the subject of her first conversation with Ormond. Ihave already explained the situation of her mind. All her wishes wereconcentred in the marriage of Helena. The eligibility of this scheme,in every view which she took of it, appeared in a stronger light. Shewas not aware that any new obstacle had arisen. She was free from theconsciousness of any secret bias. Much less did her modesty suspect,that she herself would prove an insuperable impediment to thisplan.
There was more than usual solemnity in 's demeanour. After he wasseated, he continued, contrary to his custom, to be silent. Thesesingularities were not unobserved by Constance. They did not, however,divert her from her purpose.
I am glad to see you, said she. We so seldom enjoy the advantage ofa private interview. I have much to say to you. You authorize me todeliberate on your actions, and, in some measure, to prescribe to you.This is a province which I hope to discharge with integrity anddiligence. I am convinced that Hellen's happiness and your own, can besecured in one way only. I will emulate your candour, and come at onceto the point. Why have you delayed so long the justice that is due tothis helpless and lovely girl? There are a thousand reasons why youshould think of no other alternative. You have been pleased to reposesome degree of confidence in my judgment. Hear my full and deliberateopinion. Make Helena your wife. This is the unequivocal prescription ofyour duty.
This address was heard by without surprise; but his countenancebetrayed the accuteness of his feelings. The bitterness that overflowedhis heart, was perceptible in his tone when he spoke.
Most egregiously are you deceived. Such is the line with which humancapacity presumes to fathom futurity. With all your discernment, you donot see that marriage would effectually destroy me. You do not seethat, whether beneficial, or otherwise, in its effects, marriage isimpossible. You are merely prompting me to suicide; but how shall Iinflict the wound? Where is the weapon? See you not that I ampowerless? Leap, say you, into the flames. See you not that I amfettered? Will a mountain move at your bidding, sooner than I in thepath, which you prescribe to me?
This speech was inexplicable. She pressed him to speak lessenigmatically. Had he formed his resolution? If so, arguments andremonstrances were superfluous. Without noticing her interrogatories,he continued:
I am too hasty in condemning you. You judge, not against, butwithout knowledge. When sufficiently informed, your decision will beright: Yet how can you be ignorant? Can you, for a moment, contemplateyourself and me, and not perceive an insuperable bar to this union?
You place me, said Constantia, in a very disagreeable predicament. Ihave not deserved this treatment from you. This is an unjustifiabledeviation from plain dealing. Of what impediment do you speak. I cansafely say that I know of none.
Well, resumed he, with augmented eagerness, I must supply you withknowledge. I repeat, that I perfectly rely on the rectitude of yourjudgment. Summon all your sagacity and disinterestedness, and chuse forme. You know in what light Hellen has been viewed by me. I have ceasedto view her in this light. She has become an object of indifference:Nay, I am not certain that I do not hate her. Not indeed for her ownsake, but because I love another. Shall I marry her whom I hate, whenthere exists one whom I love with unconquerable ardour?
Constantia was thunderstruck with this intelligence. She looked athim with some expression of doubt. How is this? said she: Why did younot tell me this before?
When I last talked with you on this subject, I knew it not myself.It has occurred since. I have seized the first occasion that hasoffered, to inform you of it. Say now, since such is my condition,ought Hellen to be my wife?
Constantia was silent. Her heart bled for what she foresaw, would bethe sufferings and forlorn destiny of Hellen. She had not courage toenquire further into this new engagement.
I wait for your answer, Constance. Shall I defraud myself of all thehappiness which would accrue, from a match of inclination? Shall I putfetters on my usefulness? This is the style in which you speak. Shall Ipreclude all the good to others, that would flow from a suitablealliance? Shall I abjure the woman I love, and marry her whom Ihate?
Hatred, replied the lady, is an harsh word. Hellen has not deservedthat you should hate her. I own this is a perplexing circumstance. Itwould be wrong to determine hastily. Suppose you give yourself toHellen, will more than yourself be injured by it? Who is this lady?Will she be rendered unhappy by a determination in favor of another?This is a point of the utmost importance.
At these words, forsook his seat, and advanced close up toConstantia. You say true. This is a point of inexpressible importance.It would be presumption in me to decide. That is the lady's ownprovince. And now, say truly, are you willing to accept Ormond with allhis faults. Who but yourself could be mistress of all the springs of mysoul? I know the sternness of your probity. This discovery will onlymake you more strenuously the friend of Hellen. Yet why should you notshun either extreme. Lay yourself out of view. And yet, perhaps, thehappiness of Constance, is not unconcerned in this question. Is thereno part of me in which you discover your own likeness? Am I deceived,or is it an incontroulable destiny that unites us?
This declaration was truly unexpected by Constance. She gatheredfrom it nothing but excitements of grief. After some pause, she said.This appeal to me has made no change in my opinion. I still think thatjustice requires you to become the husband of Hellen. As to me, do youthink my happiness rests upon so slight a foundation? I cannot love,but when my understanding points out to me the propriety of love. Eversince I have known you, I have looked upon you as rightfully belongingto another. Love could not take place in my circumstances. Yet I willnot conceal from you my sentiments. I am not sure that in differentcircumstances, I should not have loved. I am acquainted with yourworth. I do not look for a faultless man. I have met with none whoseblemishes were fewer.
It matters not, however, what I should have been. I cannotinterfere, in this case, with the claims of my friend. I have nopassion to struggle with. I hope, in every vicissitude, to enjoy youresteem, and nothing more. There is but one way in which mine can besecured, and that is by espousing this unhappy girl.
No, exclaimed . Require not impossibilities. Hellen can never be anything to me. I should, with unspeakably more willingness, assail my ownlife.
What, said the lady, will Hellen think of this sudden and dreadfulchange. I cannot bear to think upon the feelings that this informationwill excite.
She knows it already. I have this moment left her. I explained toher, in few words, my motives, and assured her of my unalterableresolution. I have vowed never to see her more, but as a brother, andthis vow she has just heard.
Constantia could not suppress her astonishment and compassion atthis intelligence. No surely, you could not be so cruel! And this wasdone with your usual abruptness, I suppose. Precipitate and implacableman! Cannot you foresee the effects of this madness? You have planted adagger in her heart. You have disappointed me. I did not think youcould act so inhumanly.
Nay, beloved Constance, be not so liberal of your reproaches. Wouldyou have me deceive her? She must shortly have known it. Could thetruth be told too soon?
Much too soon, replied the lady, fervently. I have always condemnedthe maxims by which you act. Your scheme is headlong and barbarous.Could you not regard, with some little compassion, that love whichsacrificed for your unworthy sake, honest fame and the peace of virtue?Is she not a poor outcast, goaded by compunction, and hooted at by amalignant and misjudging world, and who was it that reduced her to thisdeplorable condition? For whose sake, did she willingly consent tobrave evils, by which the stoutest heart is applled? Did this argue nogreatness of mind? Who ever surpassed her in fidelity and tenderness?But thus has she been rewarded. I shudder to think what may be theevent. Her courage cannot possibly support her, against treatment soharsh; so perversely and wantonly cruel. Heaven grant, that you are notshortly made, bitterly to lament this rashness.
was penetrated with these reproaches. They persuaded him for amoment that his deed was wrong; that he had not unfolded his intentionsto Helena, with a suitable degree of gentleness and caution. Littlemore was said on this occasion. Constantia exhorted him, in the mostearnest and pathetic manner, to return and recant, or extenuate hisformer declarations. He could not be brought to promise compliance.When he parted from her, however, he was half resolved to act as sheadvised. Solitary reflection made him change this resolution, and hereturned to his own house.
During the night, he did little else, than ruminate on the events ofthe preceding evening. He entertained little doubt of his ultimatesuccess with Constance. She gratified him in nothing, but left himevery thing to hope. She had hitherto, it seems, regarded him withindifference, but this had been sufficiently explained. That conductwould be pursued, and that passion be entertained, which her judgmentshould previously approve. What then was the obstacle? It originated inthe claims of Hellen, but what were these claims? It was fullyascertained that he should never be united to this girl. If so, the endcontemplated by Constance, and for the sake of which only, hisapplication was rejected, could never be obtained. Unless her rejectionof him, could procure a husband for her friend, it would, on her ownprinciples, be improper and superfluous.
What was to be done with Hellen? It was a terrible alternative towhich he was reduced; to marry her or see her perish: But was thisalternative quite sure? Could not she, by time or by judicioustreatment, be reconciled to her lot? It was to be feared that he hadnot made a suitable beginning; And yet, perhaps, it was most expedient,that an hasty and abrupt sentence should be succeeded by forbearanceand lenity. He regretted his precipitation, and though unused to themelting mood, tears were wrung from him, by the idea of the miserywhich he had probably occasioned. He was determined to repair hismisconduct as speedily as possible, and to pay her a conciliating visitthe next morning.
He went early to her house. He was informed by the servant that hermistress had not yet risen. Was it usual, he asked, for her to lie solate? No, he was answered; She never knew it happen before, but shesupposed her mistress was not well. She was just going into her chamberto see what was the matter.
Why, said , do you suppose that she is sick?
She was poorly last night. About nine o'clock she sent out for somephysic to make her sleep.
To make her sleep? exclaimed , in a faultering and affrightedaccent.
Yes, she said, she wanted it for that. So I went to the pothecary's.When I come back, she was very poorly indeed. I asked her if I mightn'tset up with her. No she says: I do not want any body. You may go to bedas soon as you please, and tell Fabian to do the same. I shall not wantyou again.
What did you buy?
Some kind of water, laud'num I think they call it. She wrote it downand I carried the paper to Mr. Eckhart's, and he gave it to me in abottle, and I gave it to my mistress.
'T is well: Retire: I will see how she is myself.
had conceived himself fortified against every disaster. He lookedfor nothing but evil, and, therefore, in ordinary cases, regarded itsapproach without fear or surprise. Now, however, he found that histremors would not be stilled. His perturbations increased, with everystep that brought him nearer to her chamber. He knocked, but no answerwas returned. He opened, advanced to the bed side, and drew back thecurtains. He shrunk from the spectacle that presented itself--Was thisthe Hellen, that a few hours before, was blithsome with health andradiant with beauty! Her visage was serene, but sunken and pale. Deathwas in every line of it. To his tremulous and hurried scrutiny everylimb was rigid and cold.
The habits of tended to obscure the appearances, if not to deadenthe emotions of sorrow. He was so much accustomed to the frustration ofwell intended efforts, and confided so much in his own integrity, thathe was not easily disconcerted. He had merely to advert, on thisoccasion, to the tumultuous state of his feelings, in order to banishtheir confusion and restore himself to calm. Well, said he, as hedropped the curtain and turned towards another part of the room, this,without doubt, is a rueful spectacle: Can it be helped? Is there in manthe power of recalling her? There is none such in me.
She is gone: Well then, she is gone. If she were fool enough to die,I am not fool enough to follow her. I am determined to live, and behappy notwithstanding. Why not?
Yet, this is a piteous sight. What is impossible to undo, might beeasily prevented. A piteous spectacle! But what else, on an amplerscale, is the universe? Nature is a theatre of suffering. What corneris unvisited by calamity and pain? I have chosen, as became me. I wouldrather precede thee to the grave, than live to be thy husband.
Thou hast done my work for me. Thou hast saved thyself and me from athousand evils. Thou has acted as seemed to thee best, and I amsatisfied.
Hast thou decided erroneously? They that know thee, need not marvelat that. Endless have been the proofs of thy frailty. In favor of thislast act, something may be said: It is the last thou wilt ever commit.Others only will experience its effects: Thou hast, at least, providedfor thy own safety.
But what is here? A letter for me? Had thy understanding been asprompt as thy fingers, I could have borne with thee. I can casilydivine the contents of this epistle.
He opened it, and found the tenor to be as follows:
"You did not use, my dear friend, to part with me in this manner.You never before treated me so roughly. I am sorry, indeed I am, that Iever offended you. Could you suppose that I intended it? And if youknew that I meant not offence, why did you take offence?"
"I am very unhappy, for I have lost you, my friend. You will neversee me more, you say. That is very hard. I have deserved it to be sure,but I do not know how it has happened. No body more desired to pleasethan I have done. Morning, noon and night, it was my only study; butyou will love me no more; you will see me no more. Forgive me, myfriend, but I must say it is very hard."
"You said rightly; I do not wish to live without my friend. I havespent my life happily, heretofore. 'Tis true, there have been transientuneasinesses, but your love was a reward and a cure for every thing. Idesired nothing better in this world. Did you ever hear me murmur? No:I was not so unjust. My lot was happy, infinitely beyond my deserving.I merited not to be loved by you. O that I had suitable words toexpress my gratitude, for your kindness! but this last meeting--howdifferent from that which went before? Yet even then, there wassomething on your brow like discontent, which I could not warble norwhisper away, as I used to do. But, sad as this was, it was nothinglike the last."
"Could be so stern and so terrible? You knew that I would die, butyou need not have talked as if I were in the way, and as if you hadrather I should die than live. But one thing I rejoice at: I am a poorsilly girl, but Constance is a noble and accomplished one. Mostjoyfully do I resign you to her, my dear friend. You say you love her:She need not be afraid of accepting you. There will be no danger ofyour preferring another to her. It was very natural and very right foryou to prefer her to me. She and you will be happy in each other: It isthis that sweetens the cup I am going to drink. Never did I go tosleep, with more good will, than I now go to death. Fare you well, mydear friend."
This letter was calculated to make a deeper impression on , thaneven the sight of Hellen's corpse. It was in vain, for some time, thathe endeavoured to reconcile himself to this event. It was seldom thathe was able to forget it. He was obliged to exert all his energies, toenable him to support the remembrance. The task was, of course,rendered easier by time.
It was immediately requisite to attend to the disposal of thecorpse. He felt himself unfit for this mournful office. He was willingto relieve himself from it, by any expedient. Helena's next neighbour,was an old lady, whose scruples made her shun all direct intercoursewith this unhappy girl; yet she had performed many acts of neighbourlykindness. She readily obeyed the summons of , on this occasion, to takecharge of affairs, till another should assume it. Ormond returned home,and sent the following note to Constance.
"You have predicted aright. Hellen is dead. In a mind like yoursevery grief will be suspended, and every regard absorbed in theattention due to the remains of this unfortunate girl. I cannot attendto them."
Constantia was extremely shocked by this intelligence, but she wasnot unmindful of her duty. She prepared herself with mournful alacrity,for the performance of it. Every thing that the occasion demanded, wasdone with diligence and care. Till this was accomplished, could notprevail upon himself to appear upon the stage. He was informed of thisby a note from Constance, who requested him to take possession of theun occupied dwelling and its furniture.
Among the terms of his contract with Helena, had voluntarilyinserted the exclusive property of an house and its furniture in thiscity, with funds adequate to her plentiful maintainance. These he hadpurchased and transferred to her. To this he had afterwards added arural retreat, in the midst of spacious and well cultivated fields,three miles from Perth-Amboy, and seated on the right bank of thesound. It is proper to mention that this farm was formerly the propertyof Mr. Dudley; had been fitted up by him, and used as his summer abodeduring his prosperity. In the division of his property it had fallen toone of his creditors, from whom it had been purchased by Ormond. Thiscircumstance, in conjunction with the love, which she bore toConstance, had suggested to Hellen a scheme, which her want offoresight would, in different circumstances, have occasioned her tooverlook. It was that of making her testament, by which she bequeathedall that she possessed to her friend. This was not done without theknowledge and cheerful concurrence of Ormond, who, together withMelbourne and another respectable citizen, were named executors.Melbourne and his friend were induced by their respect for Constantia,to consent to this nomination.
This had taken place before and Constance had been introduced toeach other. After this event, Ormond had sometimes been employed incontriving means for securing to his new friend and her father, asubsistence, more certain than the will of Helena could afford. Herdeath he considered as an event equally remote and undesirable. Thisevent, however unexpectedly, had now happened, and precluded thenecessity of further consideration on this head.
Constantia could not but accept this bequest. Had it been her wishto decline, it was not in her power, but she justly regarded theleisure and independence thus conferred upon her, as inestimablebenefits. It was a source of unbounded satisfaction on her father'saccount, who was once more seated in the bosom of affluence. Perhaps ina rational estimate, one of the most fortunate events that could havebefallen those persons, was that period of adversity through which theyhad been doomed to pass. Most of the defects that adhered to thecharacter of Mr. Dudley, had, by this means, been exterminated. He wasnow cured of those prejudices which his early prosperity had instilled,and which had flowed from luxurious indulgences. He had learned toestimate himself at his true value, and to sympathize with sufferingswhich he himself had partaken.
It was easy to perceive in what light Constantia was regarded by herfather. He never reflected on his relation to her without rapture. Herqualities were the objects of his adoration. He resigned himself withpleasure to her guidance. The chain of subordination and duties wasreversed. By the asscendancy of her genius and wisdom, the province ofprotection and the tribute of homage, had devolved upon her. This hadresulted from incessant experience of the wisdom of her measures, andthe spectacle of her fortitude and skill in every emergency.
It seemed as if but one evil adhered to the condition of this man.His blindness was an impediment to knowledge and enjoyment, of which,the utmost to be hoped was, that he should regard it without pungentregret, and that he should sometimes forget it: That his mind shouldoccasionally stray into foreign paths, and lose itself in sprightlyconversations, or benign reveries. This evil, however, was, by nomeans, remediless.
A surgeon of uncommon skill had lately arrived from Europe. He wasone of the numerous agents and dependants of , and had been engaged toabdicate his native country for purposes widely remote from hisprofession. The first use that was made of him, was to introduce him toMr. Dudley. The diseased organs were critically examined, and thepatient was, with considerable difficulty, prevailed upon to undergothe necessary operation. His success corresponded with Constantia'swishes, and her father was once more restored to the enioyment oflight.
These were auspicious events--Constantia held herself amply repaidby them, for all that she had suffered. These sufferings had indeedbeen light, when compared with the effects usually experienced byothers in a similar condition. Her wisdom had extracted its sting fromadversity, and without allowing herself to feel much of the evils ofits reign, had employed it as an instrument by which the sum of herpresent happiness was increased. Few suffered less, in the midst ofpoverty, than she. No one ever extracted more felicity from theprosperous reverse.
When time had somewhat mitigated the memory of the late disaster,the intercourse between and Constance was renewed. The lady did notoverlook her obligations to her friend: It was to him that she wasindebted for her father's restoration to sight, and to whom both owed,essentially, though indirectly, their present affluence. In her mind,gratitude was no perverse or ignoble principle. She viewed this man asthe authour of extensive benefits, of which her situation enabled herto judge with more accuracy than others. It created no bias on herjudgment, or, at least, none of which she was sensible. Her equity wasperfectly unfettered, and she decided in a way contrary to hisinclination, with as little scruple as if the benefits had beenreceived, not by herself, but by him. She, indeed, intended hisbenefit, though she thwarted his inclinations.
She had few visitants beside himself. Their interviews were dailyand unformal. The fate of Hellen never produced any reproaches on herpart. She saw the uselessness of recrimination, not only because shedesired to produce emotions different from those which invective isadapted to excite, but because it was more just to soothe than toexasperate, the inquietudes which haunted him.
She now enjoyed leisure. She had always been solicitous for mentalimprovement. Any means subservient to this end were valuable. Theconversation of was an inexhaustible fund. By the variety of topics andthe excitements to reflection it supplied, a more plenteous influx ofknowledge was produced, than could have flowed from any other source.There was no end to the detailing of facts, and the canvassing oftheories.
I have already said, that was engaged in schemes of an arduous andelevated nature. These were the topics of epistolary discussion betweenhim and a certain number of coadjutors, in different parts of theworld. In general discourse, it was proper to maintain a uniformsilence respecting these, not only because they involved principles andviews, remote from vulgar apprehension, but because their success, insome measure, depended on their secrecy. He could not give a strongerproof of his confidence in the sagacity and steadiness of Constancethan he now gave, by imparting to her his schemes, and requesting heradvice and assistance in the progress of them.
His disclosures, however, were imperfect. What knowledge wasimparted, instead of appeasing, only tended to inflame her curiosity.His answers to her enquiries were prompt, and at first sight,sufficiently explicit, but upon reconsideration, an obscurity seemed togather round them, to be dispelled by new interrogatories. These, inlike manner, effected a momentary purpose, but were sure speedily tolead into new conjectures, and re-immerse her in doubts. The task wasalways new, was always in the point of being finished, and always to bere-commenced.
aspired to nothing more ardently than to hold the reins of opinion.To exercise absolute power over the conduct of others, not byconstraining their limbs, or by exacting obedience to his authority,but in a way of which his subjects should be scarcely conscious. Hedesired that his guidance should controul their steps, but that hisagency, when most effectual, should be least suspected.
If he were solicitous to govern the thoughts of Constantia, or toregulate her condition, the mode which he pursued had hitherto beenadmirably conducive to that end. To have found her friendless andindigent, accorded, with the most fortunate exactness, with his views.That she should have descended to this depth, from a prosperous height,and therefore be a stranger to the torpor which attends hereditarypoverty, and be qualified rightly to estimate, and use the competenceto which, by his means, she was now restored, was all that hisprovidence would have prescribed.
Her thoughts were equally obsequious to his direction. The noveltyand grandeur of his schemes could not fail to transport a mind, ardentand capacious, as that of Constance. Here his fortune had been no lesspropitious. He did not fail to discover, and was not slow to seize theadvantages flowing thence. By explaining his plans, opportunity wasfurnished to lead and to confine her meditations to the desirabletract. By adding fictitious embellishments, he adapted it with moreexactness to his purpose. By piece-meal and imperfect disclosures, hercuriosity was kept alive.
I have described as having contracted a passion for Constance. Thispassion certainly existed in his heart, but it must not be conceived tobe immutable, or to operate independently of all those impulses andhabits which time had interwoven in his character. The person andaffections of this woman, were the objects sought by him, and which itwas the dearest purpose of his existence to gain. This was his supremegood, though the motives to which it was indebted for its pre-eminencein his imagination, were numerous and complex.
I have enumerated his opinions on the subject of wedlock. Thequestion will obviously occur, whether Constantia was sought by him,with upright or flagitious views. His sentiments and resolutions, onthis head, had for a time fluctuated, but were now steadfast. Marriagewas, in his eyes, hateful and absurd as ever. Constance was to beobtained by any means. If other terms were rejected, he was willing,for the sake of this good, to accept her as a wife; but this was achoice to be made, only when every expedient was exhausted, forreconciling her to a compact of a different kind.
For this end, he prescribed to himself, a path suited to thecharacter of this lady. He made no secret of his sentiments and views.He avowed his love and described, without scruple, the scope of hiswishes. He challenged her to confute his principles, and promised acandid audience and profound consideration to her arguments. Herpresent opinions he knew to be adverse to his own, but he hoped tochange them, by subtilty and perseverance. His further hopes anddesigns, he concealed from her. She was unaware, that if he were unableto effect a change in her creed, he was determined to adopt a system ofimposture. To assume the guise of a convert to her doctrines, andappear as devout as herself in his notions of the sanctity ofmarriage.
Perhaps it was not difficult, to have foreseen the consequence ofthese projects. Constantia's peril was imminent. This arose not onlyfrom the talents and address of , but from the community of sentiment,which already existed between them. She was unguarded in a point,where, if not her whole, yet, doubtless, her principal security andstrongest bulwark would have existed. She was unacquainted withreligion. She was unhabituated to conform herself to any standard, butthat connected with the present life. Matrimonial, as well as everyother human duty, was disconnected in her mind, with any awful ordivine sanction. She formed her estimate of good and evil, on nothingbut terestrial and visible consequences.
This defect in her character, she owed to her father's system ofeducation. Mr. Dudley was an adherent to what he conceived to be truereligion. No man was more passionate in his culogy of his own form ofdevotion and belief, or in his invectives against Atheistical dogmas;but he reflected that religion assumed many forms, one only of which issalutary or true, and that truth in this respect, is incompatible withinfantile and premature instruction.
To this subject, it was requisite to apply the force of a mature andunfettered understanding. For this end he laboured to lead away thejuvenile reflections of Constantia, from religious topics, to detainthem in the paths of history and eloquence. To accustom her to theaccuracy of geometrical deduction, and to the view of those evils, thathave flowed in all ages, from mistaken piety.
In consequence of this scheme, her habits rather than her opinions,were undevout. Religion was regarded by her, not with disbelief, butwith absolute indifference. Her good sense forbad her to decide beforeenquiry, but her modes of study and reflection, were foreign to, andunfitted her for this species of discussion. Her mind was seldom calledto meditate on this subject, and when it occurred, her perceptions werevague and obscure. No objects, in the sphere which she occupied, werecalculated to suggest to her the importance of investigation andcertainty.
It becomes me to confess, however reluctantly, thus much concerningmy friend. However abundantly endowed in other respects, she was astranger to the felicity and excellence flowing from religion. In herstruggles with misfortune, she was supported and cheered by the senseof no approbation, but her own. A defect of this nature, will perhapsbe regarded as of less moment, when her extreme youth is remembered.All opinions in her mind were mutable, inasmuch as the progress of herunderstanding was incessant.
If was otherwise with . His disbelief was at once unchangeable andstrenuous. The universe was to him, a series of events, connected by anundesigning and inscrutable necessity, and an assemblage of forms, towhich no begining or end can be conceived. Instead of transient viewsand vague ideas, his meditations, on religious points, had beenintense. Enthusiasm was added to disbelief, and he not only dissentedbut abhorred.
He deemed it prudent, however, to disguise sentiments, which, ifunfolded in their full force, would wear to her the appearance ofinsanity: But he saw and was eager to improve the advantage, which hisanti-nuptial creed derived from the unsettled state of her opinions. Hewas not unaware, likewise, of the auspicious and indispensibleco-operation of love. If this advocate were wanting in her bosom, allhis efforts would be in vain. If this pleader were engaged in hisbehalf, he entertained no doubts of his ultimate success. He conceivedthat her present situation, all whose comforts were the fruits of hisbeneficence, and which afforded her no other subject of contemplationthan himself, was as favorable as possible to the growth of thispassion.
Constance was acquainted with his wishes. She could not fail to see,that she might spcedily be called upon to determine a momentousquestion. Her own sensations and the character of , were, therefore,scrutinized with suspicious attention. Marriage could be justified inher eyes, only by community of affections and opinions. She might lovewithout the sanction of her judgment, but while destitute of thatsanction, she would never suffer it to sway her conduct.
was imperfectly known. What knowledge she had gained, flowed chieflyfrom his own lips, and was therefore unattended with certainty. Whatportion of deceit or disguise was mixed with his conversation, could beknown, only by witnessing his actions with her own eyes, and comparinghis testimony with that of others. He had embraced a multitude ofopinions, which appeared to her erroneous. Till these were rectified,and their conclusions were made to correspond, wedlock was improper.Some of these obscurities might be dispelled, and some of thesediscords be resolved into harmony by time. Meanwhile it was proper toguard the avenues to her heart, and screen herself fromself-delusion.
There was no motive to conceal her reflections, on this topic, fromher father. Mr. Dudley discovered, without her assistance, the views of. His daughter's happiness was blended with his own. He lived, but inthe consciousness of her tranquility. Her image was seldom absent fromhis eyes, and never from his thoughts. The emotions which it excited,sprung but in part from the relationship of father. It was gratitudeand veneration, which she claimed from him, and which filled him withrapture.
He ruminated deeply on the character of . The political andanti-theological tenets of this man, were regarded, not merely withdisapprobation, but antipathy. He was not ungrateful for the benefitswhich had been conferred upon him. Ormond's peculiarities of sentiment,excited no impatience, as long as he was regarded merely as a visitant.It was only as one claiming to posses his daughter, that his presenceexcited in Mr. Dudley, trepidation and loathing.
was unacquainted with what was passing in the mind of Mr. Dudley.The latter conceived his own benefactor and his daughter's friend, tobe entitled to the most scrupulous and affable urbanity. His objectionsto a nearer alliance, were urged with frequent and pathetic vehemence,only in his private interviews with Constance. Ormond and he seldommet: Mr. Dudley, as soon as his sight was perfectly retrieved, betookhimself with eagerness to painting, an amusement, which his lateprivations had only contributed to endear to him.
Things remained nearly on their present footing for some months. Atthe end of this period, some engagement obliged to leave the city. Hepromised to return with as much speed as circumstances would admit.Meanwhile his letters supplied her with topics of reflection. Thesewere frequently received, and were models of that energy of style,which results from simplicity of structure, from picturesque epithets,and from the compression of much meaning into few words. His argumentsseldom imparted conviction, but delight never failed to flow from theirlucid order and cogent brevity. His narratives were unequaled forrapidity and comprehensiveness. Every sentence was a treasury tomoralists and painters.
Domestic and studious occupations did not wholly engross theattention of Constance. Social pleasures were precious to her heart,and she was not backward to form fellowships and friendships, withthose around her. Hitherto she had met with no one, entitled to anuncommon portion of regard, or worthy to supply the place of the friendof her infancy. Her visits were rare, and as yet, chiefly confined tothe family of Mr. Melbourne. Here she was treated with flatteringdistinctions, and enjoyed opportunities of extending as far as shepleased, her connections with the gay and opulent. To this she feltherself by no means inclined, and her life was still eminentlydistinguished by love of privacy, and habits of seclusion.
One morning, feeling an indisposition to abstraction, she determinedto drop in, for an hour, on Mrs. Melbourne. Finding Mrs. Melbourne'sparlour unoccupied, she proceeded unceremoniously, to an apartment onthe second floor, where that lady was accustomed to sit. She entered,but this room was likewise empty. Here she cast her eyes on acollection of prints, copied from the Farnese collection, and employedherself, for some minutes, in comparing the forms of Titiano and theCaracchi.
Suddenly, notes of peculiar sweetness, were wafted to her ear fromwithout. She listened with surprise, for the tones of her father's lutewere distinctly recognized. She hied to the window, which chanced tolook into a back court. The music was perceived to come from the windowof the next house. She recollected her interview with the purchaser ofher instrument, at the musical shop, and the powerful impression whichthe stranger's countenance had made upon her.
The first use she had made of her recent change of fortune, was toendeavour the recovery of this instrument. The musical dealer, whenreminded of the purchase, and interrogated as to the practicability ofregaining the lute, for which she was willing to give treble the price,answered that he had no knowledge of the foreign lady, beyond what wasgained at the interview which took place in Constantia's presence. Ofher name, residence, and condition, he knew nothing, and hadendeavoured in vain to acquire knowledge.
Now this incident seemed to have furnished her with the informationshe so earnestly sought. This performer was probably the strangerherself. Her residence so near the Melbournes, and in an house whichwas the property of the Magistrate, might be means of information as toher condition, and perhaps of introduction to a personalacquaintance.
While engaged in these reflections, Mrs. Melbourne entered theapartment. Constantia related this incident to her friend, and statedthe motives of her present curiosity. Her friend willingly impartedwhat knowledge she possessed relative to this subject. This was thesum.
This house had been hired, previously to the appearance of yellowfever, by an English family, who left their native soil, with a view toa permanent abode in the new world. They had scarcely taken possessionof the dwelling, when they were terrified by the progress of theepidemic. They had fled from the danger, but this circumstance, inaddition to some others, induced them to change their scheme. An evilso unwonted as pestilence, impressed them with a belief of perpetualdanger, as long as they remained on this side of the ocean. Theyprepared for an immediate return to England.
For this end their house was relinquished, and their splendidfurniture destined to be sold by auction. Before this event could takeplace, application was made to Mr. Melbourne, by a lady, whom hiswife's description, shewed to be the same with her of whom Constantiawas in search. She not only rented the house, but negociated by meansof her landlord, the purchase of the furniture.
Her servants were blacks, and all but one, who officiated assteward, unacquainted with the English language. Some accident hadproved her name to be Beauvais. She had no visitants, very rarelywalked abroad, and then only in the evening with a female servant inattendance. Her hours appeared to be divided between the lute and thepen. As to her previous history or her present sources of subsistence,Mrs. Melcombe's curiosity had not been idle, but no consistentinformation was obtainable. Some incident had given birth to theconjecture, that she was wife, or daughter, or sister of Beauvais, thepartizan of Brissot, whom the faction of Marat had lately consigned tothe scaffold, but this conjecture was unsupported by suitableevidence.
This tale by no means diminished Constantia's desire of personalintercourse. She saw no means of effecting her purpose. Mrs. Melbournewas unqualified to introduce her, having been discouraged in all theadvances she had made towards a more friendly intercourse. Constancereflected, that her motives to seclusion, would probably induce thislady to treat others as her friend had been treated.
It was possible, however, to gain access to her, if not as a friend,yet as the original proprietor of the lute. She determined to employthe agency of Roseveldt, the musical-shopman, for the purpose ofre-buying this instrument. To enforce her application, she commissionedthis person, whose obliging temper entitled him to confidence, to stateher inducements for originally offering it for sale, and her motivesfor desiring the repossession on any terms which the lady thoughtproper to dictate.
Roseveldt fixed an hour in which it was convenient for him toexecute her commission. This hour having passed, Constance, who wasanxious respecting his success, hastened to his house. Roseveldtdelivered the instrument, which the lady, having listened to his pleasand offers, directed to be gratuitously restored to Constance. Atfirst, she had expressed her resolution to part with it on no account,and at no price. Its music was her only recreation, and this instrumentsurpassed any she had ever before seen, in the costliness and delicacyof its workmanship. But Roseveldt's representations produced an instantchange of resolution, and she not only eagerly consented to restore it,but refused to receive any thing in payment.
Constantia was deeply affected by this unexpected generosity. It wasnot her custom to be outstripped in this carrier. She now condemnedherself for her eagerness to regain this instrument. During herfather's blindness, it was a powerful, because the only solace of hismelancholy. Now he had no longer the same anxieties to encounter, andbooks and the pencil were means of gratification always at hand. Thelute, therefore, she imagined could be easily dispensed with by Mr.Dndley, whereas its power of consoling might be as useful to theunknown lady, as it had formerly been to her father. She readilyperceived in what manner it became her to act. Roseveldt wascommissioned to re-deliver the lute, and to intreat the lady'sacceptance of it. The tender was received without hesitation, andRoseveldt dismissed without any enquiry relative to Constance.
These transactions were reflected on by Constance with considerableearnestness. The conduct of the stranger, her affluent and lonelystate, her conjectural relationship to the actors in the great theatreof Europe, were mingled together in the fancy of Constance, andembellished with the conceptions of her beauty, derived from theircasual meeting at Roseveldt's. She forgot not their similitude in ageand sex, and delighted to prolong the dream of future confidence andfriendship to take place between them. Her heart sighed for a companionfitted to partake in all her sympathies.
This strain, by being connected with the image of a being likeherself, who had grown up with her from childhood, who had beenentwined with her earliest affections, but from whom she had beensevered from the period at which her father's misfortunes commenced,and of whose present condition she was wholly ignorant, was productiveof the deepest melancholy. It filled her with excruciating, and for atime irremediable sadness. It formed a kind of paroxysm, which likesome febrile affections, approach and retire without warning, andagainst the most vehement struggles.
In this mood, her fancy was thronged with recollections of scenes,in which her friend had sustained a part. Their last interview wascommonly revived in her remembrance so forcibly, as almost to produce alunatic conception of its reality. A ditty which they sung together onthat occasion, flowed to her lips. It ever human tones were qualifiedto convey the whole soul, they were those of Constance when shesung;---The breeze awakes, the bark prepares, To waft me to a distantshore: But far beyond this world of cares, We meet again to part nomore.
These fits, were accustomed to approach and to vanish by degrees.They were transitory but not infrequent, and were pregnant with suchagonizing tenderness, such heart breaking sighs, and a flow of suchbetter yet delicious tears, that it were not easily decided whether thepleasure or the pain surmounted. When symptoms of their coming werefelt, she hastened into solitude, that the progress of her feelingsmight endure no restraint.
On the evening of the day, on which the lute had been sent to theforeign lady, Coustantia was alone in her chamber, immersed indesponding thoughts. From these she was recalled by Fabian, her blackservant, who announced a guest. She was loath to break off the threadof her present meditations, and enquired with a tone of someimpatience, Who was the guest? The servant was unable to tell; It was ayoung lady whom he had never before seen; She had opened for herself,and entered the parlour without previous notice.
Constance paused at this relation. Her thoughts had recently beenfixed upon Sophia Westwyn. Since their parting four years before, shehad heard no tidings of this woman. Her fears imagined no more probablecause of her friend's silence than her death. This, however, wasuncertain. The question now occurred, and brought with it, sensationsthat left her no power to move; Was this the guest?
Her doubts were quickly dispelled, for the stranger, taking a lightfrom the table, and not brooking the servant's delays, followed Fabianto the chamber of his mistress. She entered with careless freedom, andpresented, to the astonished eyes of Constantia, the figure she had metat Roseveldt's, and the purchaser of her lute.
The stranger advanced towards her with quick steps, and minglingtones of benignity and sprightliness, said:
I have come to perform a duty. I have received from you to-day alute, that I valued almost as my best friend. To find another inAmerica, would not, perhaps, be possible; but, certainly, none equallysuperb and exquisite as this can be found. To shew how highly I esteemthe gift, I have come in person to thank you for it.--There shestopped.
Constance could not suddenly recover from the extreme surprize intowhich the unexpectedness of this meeting, had thrown her. She couldscarcely sufficiently suppress this confusion, to enable her to replyto these rapid effusions of her visitant, who resumed, with augmentedfreedom:
I came, as I said, to thank you, but, to say the truth, that was notall. I came likewise to see you. Having done my errand, I suppose Imust go. I would fain stay longer and talk to you a littie: Will yougive me lieve?
Constance, scarcely retrieving her composure, stammered out a politeassent. They seated themselves, and the visitant, pressing the handwhich she had taken, proceeded in a strain so smooth, so flowing,sliding from grave to gay, blending vivacity with tenderness,interpreting Constantia's silence with so keen sagacity, and accountingfor the singularities of her own deportment, in a way so respectful toher companion, and so worthy of a steadfast and pure mind in herself,that every embarrassment and scruple, were quickly banished from theirinterview.
In an hour the guest took her lieve. No promise of repeating hervisit, and no request that Constantia would repay it, was made. Theirparting seemed to be the last; Whatever purpose having beencontemplated, appeared to be accomplished by this transient meeting. Itwas of a nature deeply to interest the mind of Constance. This was thelady who talked with Roseveldt, and bargained with Melbourne, and theyhad been induced by appearances, to suppose her ignorant of anylanguage but French; but, her discourse, on the present occasion, wasin English, and was distinguished by unrivalled fluency. Her phrazesand habits of pronouncing, were untinctured with any foreign mixture,and bespoke the perfect knowledge of a native of America.
On the next evening, while Constantia was reviewing thistransaction, calling up and weighing the sentiments which the strangerhad uttered, and indulging some regret at the unlikelihood of theiragain meeting, Martinette (for I will henceforth call her by her truename) entered the apartment as abruptly as before. She accounted forthe visit, merely by the pleasure it afforded her, and proceeded in astrain even more versatile and brilliant, than before. This interviewended like the first, without any tokens, on the part of the guest, ofresolution or desire to renew it, but a third interview took place onthe ensuing day.
Henceforth Martinette became a frequent but hasty visitant, andConstantia became daily more enamoured of her new acquaintance. She didnot overlook peculiarities in the conversation and deportment of thiswoman. These exhibited no tendencies to confidence, or traces ofsympathy. They merely denoted large experience, vigourous faculties andmasculine attainments. Herself was never introduced, except as anobserver, but her observations, on government and manners, wereprofound and critical.
Her education seemed not widely different, from that whichConstantia had received. It was classical and mathematical, but to thiswas added a knowledge of political and military transactions, inEurope, during the present age, which implied the possession of bettermeans of information, than books. She depicted scenes and characters,with the accuracy of one who had partaken and witnessed themherself.
Constantia's attention had been chiefly occupied by personalconcerns. Her youth had passed in contention with misfortune, or in thequietudes of study. She could not be unapprized of contemporaryrevolutions and wars, but her ideas respecting them were indefinite andvague. Her views and her inferences on this head, were general andspeculative. Her acquaintance with history was exact andcircumstantial, in proportion as the retired back ward from her ownage. She knew more of the siege of Mutina than of that of Lisle; moreof the machinations of Cataline and the tumults of Clodius, than of theprostration of the Bastile, and the proscriptions of Marat.
She listened, therefore, with unspeakable eagerness to this reciter,who detailed to her, as the occasion suggested, the progress of actionand opinion, on the theatre of France and Poland. Conceived andrehearsed as this was, with the energy and copiousness of one whosustained a part in the scene, the mind of Constantia was always keptat the pitch of curiosity and wonder.
But while this historian described the features, personaldeportment, and domestic character of Antonette, Mirabeau andRobespierre, an impenetrable veil was drawn over her own condition.There was a warmth and freedom in her details which bespoke her ownco-agency in these events, but was unattended by transports ofindignation or sorrow, or by pauses of abstraction, such as were likelyto occur in one whose hopes and fears had been intimately blended withpublic events.
Constance could not but derive humiliation from comparing her ownslender acquirements with those of her companion. She was sensible thatall the differences between them, arose from diversities of situation.She was eager to discover in what particulars this diversity consisted.She was for a time withheld by scruples, not easily explained, fromdisclosing her wishes. An accident however occurred, to remove theseimpediments.
One evening, this unceremonious visitant discovered Constance busilysurveying a chart of the Mediterranean Sea. This circumstance led thediscourse to the present state of Syria and Cyprus. Martinette wascopious in her details. Constance listened for a time, and when a pauseensued, questioned her companion as to the means she possessed ofacquiring so much knowledge. This question was proposed withdiffidence, and prefaced by apologies.
Instead of being offended by your question, replied the guest, Ionly wonder that it never before occurred to you. Travellers tell usmuch. Volney and Mariti would have told you nearly all that I havetold. With these I have conversed personally, as well as read theirbooks, but my knowledge is, in truth, a species of patrimony. I inheritit.
Will you be good enough, said Constance, to explain yourself?
My mother was a Greek of Cyprus. My father was a Sclavonian ofRagusa, and I was born in a garden at Aleppo.
That was a singular concurrence.
How singular? That a nautical vagrant like my father, shouldsometimes anchor in the bay of Naples. That a Cyprian merchant shouldcarry his property and daughter beyond the reach of a Turkish Sangiack,and seek an asylum so commodious as Napoli; That my father should havedealings with this merchant, see, love, and marry his daughter, andafterwards procure, from the French government, a consular commissionto Aleppo; that the union should, in due time, be productive of a sonand daughter, are events far from being singular. They happendaily.
And may I venture to ask if this be your history?
The history of my parents. I hope you do not consider the place ofmy birth as the sole or the most important circumstance of my life.
Nothing would please me more than to be enabled to compare it withother incidents. I am apt to think that your life is a tissue ofsurprising events. That the daughter of a Ragusan and Greek, shouldhave seen and known so much; that she should talk English with equalfluency and more correctness than a native; that I should now beconversing with her in a corner so remote from Cyprus and Sicily, areevents more wonderful than any which I have known.
Wonderful! Pish! Thy ignorance, thy miscalculation of probabilitiesis far more so. My father talked to me in Sclavonic: My mother and hermaids talked to me in Greek. My neighbours talked to me in a medley ofArabic, Syriac and Turkish. My father's secretary was a scholar. He wasas well versed in Lysias and Xenophon, as any of their contemporaries.He laboured for ten years to enable me to read a language, essentiallythe same with that I used daily to my nurse and mother. Is it wonderfulthen that I should be skilful in Sclavonic, Greek, and the jargon ofAleppo? To have refrained from learning was impossible. Suppose a girl,prompt, diligent, inquisitive, to spend ten years of her life partly inSpain; partly in Tuscany; partly in France, and partly in England. Withher versatile curiosity and flexible organs, would it be possible forher to remain ignorant of each of these languages? Latin is the motherof them all, and presents itself, of course, to her studiousattention.
I cannot easily conceive motives which should lead you, before theage of twenty, through so many scenes.
Can you not? You grew and flourished, like a frail Mimosa, in thespot where destiny had planted you. Thank my stars, I am somewhatbetter than a vegetable. Necessity, it is true, and not choice, set mein motion, but I am not sorry for the consequences.
Is it too much, said Constance, with some hesitation, to request adetail of your youthful adventures?
Too much to give, perhaps, at a short notice. To such as you, mytale might abound with novelty, while to others, more acquainted withvicissitudes, it would be tedious and flat. I must be gone in a fewminutes. For that and for better reasons, I must not be minute. Asummary, at present, will enable you to judge how far a more copiousnarrative is suited to instruct or to please you.
My father, in proportion as he grew old and rich, became weary ofAleppo. His natal soil, had it been the haunt of Calmucks or Bedwins,his fancy would have transformed into Paradise. No wonder that theequitable aristocracy, and the peaceful husbandmen of Ragusa, should beendeared to his heart by comparison with Egyptian plagues and Turkishtyranny. Besides, he lived for his children as well as himself. Theireducation and future lot required him to seek a permanent home.
He embarked with his wife and offspring, at Scanderoon. No immediateconveyance to Ragusa offering, the appearance of the plague in Syria,induced him to hasten his departure. He entered a French vessel forMarseilles. After being three days at sea, one of the crew was seizedby the fatal disease, which had depopulated all the towns upon thecoast. The voyage was made with more than usual dispatch, but before wereached our port, my mother and half the crew perished. My father diedin the Lazzaretto, more through grief than disease.
My brother and I were children and helpless. My father's fortune wason board this vessel, and was left by his death to the mercy of thecaptain. This man was honest, and consigned us and our property to themerchant with whom he dealt. Happily for us, our protector waschildless and of scrupulous integrity. We henceforth became his adoptedchildren. My brother's education and my own, were conducted on thejustest principles.
At the end of four years, our protector found it expedient to make avoyage to Cayenne. His brother was an extensive proprietor in thatcolony, but his sudden death made way for the succession of our friend.To establish his claims, his presence was necessary on the spot. He waslittle qualified for arduous enterprizes, and his age demanded repose,but his own acquisitions, having been small, and being desirous ofleaving us in possession of competence, he cheerfully embarked.
Meanwhile, my brother was placed at a celebrated seminary in thePais de Vaud, and I was sent to a sister who resided at Verona. I wasat this time fourteen years old, one year younger than my brother,whom, since that period, I have neither heard of nor seen.
I was now a woman, and qualified to judge and act for myself. Thecharacter of my new friend was austere and devout, and there were somany incongenial points between us, that but little tranquillity wasenjoyed under her controul. The priest who discharged the office of herconfessor, thought proper to entertain views with regard to me, grosslyinconsistent with the sanctity of his profession. He was a man ofprofound dissimulation and masterly address. His efforts, however, wererepelled with disdain. My security against his attempts lay in theuncouthness and deformity which nature had bestowed upon his person andvisage, rather than in the firmness of my own principles.
The courtship of Father Bartoli, the austerities of Madame Roselli,the disgustful or insipid occupations to which I was condemned, made meimpatiently wish for a change, but my father, so I will call him, haddecreed that I should remain under his sister's guardianship till hisreturn from Guiana. When this would happen was uncertain. Eventsunforeseen might protract it for years, but it could not arrive in lessthan a twelvemonth.
I was incessantly preyed upon by discontent. My solitude wasloathsome. I panted after liberty and friendship, and the want of thesewere not recompensed by luxury and quiet, and by the instructions inuseful science, which I received from Bartoli, who, though detested asan hypocrite and lover, was venerable as a scholer: He would fain havebeen an Abelard, but it was not his fate to meet with an Heloise.
Two years passed away in this durance. My miseries were exquisite. Iam almost at a loss to account for the unhappiness of that time, for,looking back upon it, I perceive that an equal period could not havebeen spent with more benefit. For the sake of being near me, Bartoliimportunately offered his instructions. He had nothing to communicatebut metaphysics and geometry. These were little to my taste, but Icould not keep him at distance. I had no other alternative than toendure him as a lover or a teacher. His passion for science was atleast equal to that which he entertained for me, and both thesepassions combined to make him a sedulous instructor. He was a discipleof the newest doctrines respecting matter and mind. He denied theimpenetrability of the first, and the immateriality of the second.These he endeavoured to inculcate upon me, as well as to subvert myreligious tenets, because he delighted, like all men, in transfusinghis opinions, and because he regarded my piety as the only obstacle tohis designs. He succeeded in dissolving the spell of ignorance, but notin producing that kind of acquiescence he wished. He had, in thisrespect, to struggle not only with my principles, but my weaknesses. Hemight have overcome every obstacle, but my abhorrence of deformity andage. To cure me of this aversion, was beyond his power. My servitudegrew daily more painful. I grew tired of chasing a comet to itsaphelion, and of untying the knot of an infinite series. A change in mycondition became indispensable to my very existence. Langour andsadness, and unwillingness to eat or to move, were at last my perpetualattendants.
Madame Roselli was alarmed at my condition. The sources of myinquietude were incomprehensible to her. The truth was, that I scarcelyunderstood them myself, and my endeavours to explain them to my friend,merely instilled into her an opinion, that I was either lunatic ordeceitful. She complained and admonished, but my disinclination to myusual employments would not be conquered, and my health rapidlydeclined. A physician, who was called, confessed that my case wasbeyond his power to understand, but recommended, as a sort of desperateexpedient, a change of scene. A succession and variety of objects,might possibly contribute to my cure.
At this time there arrived at Verona, Lady D'Arcy, an English-womanof fortune and rank, and a strenuous Catholic. Her husband had latelydied, and in order to divert her grief, as well as to gratify hercuriosity in viewing the great seat of her religion, she had come toItaly. Intercourse took place between her and Madame Roselli. By thismeans she gained a knowledge of my person and condition, and kindlyoffered to take me under her protection. She meant to traverse everypart of Italy, and was willing that I should accompany her in all herwanderings.
This offer was gratefully accepted, in spite of the artifices andremonstrances of Bartoli. My companion speedily contracted for me theaffection of a mother. She was without kindred of her own religion,having acquired her faith, not by inheritance, but conversion. Shedesired to abjure her native country, and to bind herself by everysocial tie, to a people who adhered to the same faith. Me, she promisedto adopt as her daughter, provided her first impressions in my favor,were not belied by my future deportment.
My principles were opposite to her's, but habit, an aversion todisplease my friend, my passion for knowledge, which my new conditionenabled me to gratify, all combined to make me a deceiver, but myimposture was merely of a negative kind; I deceived her rather byforbearance to contradict, and by acting as she acted, than by openassent and zealous concurrence. My new state was, on this account, notdevoid of inconvenience. The general deportment and sentiments of LadyD'Arcy, testified a vigorous and pure mind. New avenues to knowledge,by converse with mankind and with books, and by the survey of newscenes, were open for my use. Gratitude and veneration attached me tomy friend, and made the task of pleasing her by a seeming conformity ofsentiments, less irksome.
During this interval, no tidings were received by his sister, atVerona, respecting the fate of Sebastian Roselli. The supposition ofhis death, was too plausible, not to be adopted. What influence thisdisaster possessed over my brother's destiny, I know not. Thegenerosity of Lady D'Arcy, hindered me from experiencing anydisadvantage from this circumstance. Fortune seemed to have decreed,that I should not be reduced to the condition of an orphan.
At an age and in a situation like mine, I could not remain longunacquainted with love. My abode at Rome, introduced me to theknowledge of a youth from England, who had every property which Iregarded as worthy of esteem. He was a kinsman of Lady D'Arcy, and assuch admitted at her house on the most familiar footing. His patrimonywas extremely slender, but was in his own possession. He had nointention of increasing it by any professional pursuit, but wascontented with the frugal provision it afforded. He proposed no otherend of his existence, than the acquisition of virtue and knowledge.
The property of Lady D'Arcy was subject to her own disposal, but, onthe failure of a testament, this youth was, in legal succession, thenext heir. He was well acquainted with her temper and views, but in themidst of urbanity and gentleness, studied none of those concealments ofopinion, which would have secured him her favor. That he was not of herown faith, was an insuperable, but the only obstacle, to the admissionof his claims.
If conformity of age and opinions, and the mutual fascination oflove, be a suitable basis for marriage Wentworth and I were destinedfor each other. Mutual disclosure added sanctity to our affection, butthe happiness of Lady D'Arcy, being made to depend upon the dissolutionof our compact, the heroism of Wentworth made him hasten to dissolveit. As soon as she discovered our attachment, she displayed symptoms ofthe deepest anguish. In addition to religious motives, her fondness forme forbad her to exist but in my society, and in the belief of thepurity of my faith. The contention, on my part, was vehement, betweenthe regards due to her felicity and to my own. Had Wentworth left methe power to decide, my decision would doubtless have evinced thefrailty of my fortitude, and the strength of my passion, but havinginformed me fully of the reasons of his conduct, he precipitatelyretired from Rome. He left me no means of tracing his footsteps and ofassailing his weakness, by expostulation and intreaty.
Lady D'Arcy was no less eager to abandon a spot, where her happinesshad been so iminently endangered. Our next residence was Palermo. Iwill not dwell upon the sensations, produced by this disappointment, inme. I review them with astonishment and self-compassion. If I thoughtit possible for me to sink again into imbecility so ignominious, Ishould be disposed to kill myself.
There was no end to vows of fondness and tokens of gratitude in LadyD'Arcy. Her future life should be devoted to compensate me for thissacrifice. Nothing could console her in that single state in which sheintended to live, but the consolations of my fellowship. Her conductcoincided for some time with these professions, and my anguish wasallayed by the contemplation of the happiness conferred upon one whom Irevered.
My friend could not be charged with dissimulation and artifice. Hercharacter had been mistaken by herself as well as by me. Devoutaffections seemed to have filled her heart, to the exclusion of anyobject besides myself. She cherished with romantic tenderness, thememory of her husband, and imagined that a single state wasindispensibly enjoined upon her, by religious duty. This persuasion,however, was subverted by the arts of a Spanish Cavalier, young,opulent, and romantic as herself in devotion. An event like this might,indeed, have been easily predicted, by those who reflected that thelady was still in the bloom of life, ardent in her temper andbewitching in her manners.
The fondness she had lavished upon me, was now, in some degree,transferred to a new object, but I still received the treatment due toa beloved daughter. She was solicitous as ever to promote mygratification, and a diminution of kindness would not have beensuspected, by those who had not witnessed the excesses of her formerpassion. Her marriage with the Spaniard removed the obstacle to unionwith Wentworth. This man, however, had set himself beyond the reach ofmy enquiries. Had there been the shadow of a clue afforded me, I shouldcertainly have sought him to the ends of the world.
I continued to reside with my friend, and accompanied her and herhusband to Spain. Antonio de Leyva was a man of probity. His mind wasenlightened by knowledge and his actions dictated by humanity. Thoughbut little older than myself, and young enough to be the son of hisspouse, his deportment to me was a model of rectitude and delicacy. Ispent a year in Spain, partly in the mountains of Castile and partly atSegovia. New manners and a new language occupied my attention for atime, but these, losing their novelty, lost their power to please. Ibetook myself to books, to beguile the tediousness and diversify thetenor of my life.
This would not have long availed, but I was relieved from newrepinings, by the appointment of Antonio de Leyva to a diplomaticoffice at Vienna. Thither we accordingly repaired. A coincidence ofcircumstances had led me wide from the path of ambition and study,usually allotted to my sex and age. From the computation of eclipses, Inow betook myself to the study of man. My proficiency, when I allowedit to be seen, attracted great attention. Instead of adulation andgallantry, I was engaged in watching the conduct of states, andrevolving the theories of politicians.
Superficial observers were either incredulous with regard to mycharacter, or connected a stupid wonder with their belief. Myattainments and habits, they did not see to be perfectly consonant withthe principles of human nature. They unavoidably flowed from theillicit attachment of Bartoli, and the erring magnanimity of Wentworth.Aversion to the priest was the grand ineiter of my former studies; thelove of Wentworth whom I hoped once more to meet, made me labour toexclude the importunities of others, and to qualify myself for securinghis affections.
Since our parting in Italy, Wentworth had traversed Syria and Egypt,and arrived some months after me at Vienna. He was on the point ofleaving the city, when accident informed me of his being there. Aninterview was effected, and our former sentiments respecting eachother, having undergone no change, we were united. Madame de Leyvareluctantly concurred with our wishes, and, at parting, forced upon mea considerable sum of money.
Wentworth's was a character not frequently met with in the world. Hewas a political enthusiast, who esteemed nothing more graceful orglorious than to die for the liberties of mankind. He had traversedGreece with an imagination full of the exploits of ancient times, andderived from contemplating Thermopyloe and Marathon, an enthusiasm thatbordered upon phrenzy.
It was now the third year of the revolutionary war in America, andprevious to our meeting at Vienna, he had formed the resolution ofrepairing thither, and tendering his service to the Congress as avolunteer. Our marriage made no change in his plans. My soul wasengrossed by two passions, a wild spirit of adventure, and a boundlessdevotion to him. I vowed to accompany him in every danger, to vie withhim in military ardour; to combat and to die by his side.
I delighted to assume the male dress, to acquire skill at the sword,and dexterity in every boisterous exercise. The timidity that commonlyattends women, gradually vanished. I felt as if embued by a soul thatwas a stranger to the sexual distinction. We embarked at Brest, in afrigate destined for St. Domingo. A desperate conflict with an Englishship in the bay of Biscay, was my first introduction to a scene oftumult and danger, of whose true nature I had formed no previousconception. At first I was spiritless and full of dismay. Experiencehowever gradually reconciled me to the life that I had chosen.
A fortunate shot by dismasting the enemy, allowed us to prosecuteour voyage unmolested. At Cape François we found a ship whichtransported us, after various perils, to Richmond in Virginia. I willnot carry you through the adventures of four years. You, sitting allyour life in peaceful corners, can scarcely imagine that variety ofhardship and turmoil, which attends the female who lives in a camp.
Few would sustain these hardships with better grace than I did. Icould seldom be prevailed on to remain at a distance and inactive, whenmy husband was in battle, and more than once rescued him from death bythe seasonable destruetion of his adversary.
At the repulse of the Americans at German-Town, Wentworth waswounded and taken prisoner. I attained permission to attend his sickbed and supply that care, without which he would assuredly have died.Being imperfectly recovered, he was sent to England, and subjected to arigorous imprisonment. Milder treatment might have permitted hiscompleat restoration to health, but, as it was, he died.
His kindred were noble, and rich and powerful, but it was difficultto make them acquainted with Wentworth's situation. Their assistancewhen demanded was readily afforded, but it came too late to prevent hisdeath. Me they snatched from my voluntary prison, and employed everyfriendly art to efface from my mind the images of recent calamity.
Wentworth's singularities of conduct and opinion, had estranged himat an early age from his family. They felt little regret at his fate,but every motive concurred to secure their affection and succour to me.My character was known to many officers, returned from America, whosereport, joined with the influence of my conversation, rendered me anobject to be gazed at by thousands. Strange vicissitude! Now immersedin the infection of a military hospital, the sport of a waywardfortune, struggling with cold and hunger, with negligence andcontumely: A month after passing into scenes of gaiety and luxury,exhibited at operas and masquerades, made the theme of enquiry andencomium at every place of resort, and caressed by the most illustriousamong the votaries of science, and the advocates of the Americancause.
Here I again met Madame de Leyva. This woman was perpetuallyassuming new forms. She was a sincere convert to the Catholic religion,but she was open to every new impression. She was the dupe of everypowerful reasoner, and assumed with equal facility the most oppositeshapes. She had again reverted to the Protestant religion, and governedby an headlong zeal in whatever cause she engaged, she had sacrificedher husband and child to a new conviction.
The instrument of this change, was a man who passed, at that time,for a Frenchman. He was young, accomplished and addressful, but was notsuspected of having been prompted by illicit views, or of havingseduced the lady from allegiance to her husband as well as to her God.De Leyva, however, who was sincere in his religion as well as his love,was hasty to avenge this injury, and in a contest with the Frenchman,was killed. His wife adopted at once, her ancient religion and country,and was once more an English-woman.
At our meeting, her affection for me seemed to be revived, and themost passionate intreaties were used to detain me in England. Myprevious arrangements would not suffer it. I foresaw restraints andinconveniences from the violence and caprice of her passions, andintended henceforth to keep my liberty inviolate by any species ofengagement, either of friendship or marriage. My habits were French,and I proposed hence-forward to take up my abode at Paris. Since hisvoyage to Guiana, I had heard no tidings of Sebastian Roselli. Thisman's image was cherished with filial emotions, and I conceived thatthe sight of him would amply reward a longer journey than from Londonto Marseilles.
Beyond my hopes, I found him in his ancient abode. The voyage and aresidence of three years at Cayenne, had been beneficial to hisappearance and health. He greeted me with paternal tenderness, andadmitted me to a full participation of his fortune, which the sale ofhis American property had greatly inhanced. He was a stranger to thefate of my brother. On his return home, he had gone to Swisserland witha view of ascertaining his destiny. The youth, a few months after hisarrival at Lausanne, had eloped with a companion, and had hithertoeluded all Roselli's searches and enquiries. My father was easilyprevailed upon to transfer his residence from Provence to Paris.
Here Martinette paused, and marking the clock, It is time, resumedshe, to be gone. Are you not weary of my tale? On the day I enteredFrance, I entered the twenty-third year of my age, so that my promiseof detaililing my youthful adventures is fulfilled. I must away: Tillwe meet again, farewell.
Such was the wild series of Martinette's adventures. Each incidentfastened on the memory of Constance, and gave birth to numberlessreflections. Her prospect of mankind seemed to be enlarged, on asudden, to double its ancient dimensions. 's narratives had carried herbeyond the Missisippi, and into the deserts of Siberia. He hadrecounted the perils of a Russian war, and painted the manners ofMongals and Naudowessies. Her new friend had led her back to thecivilized world, and pourtrayed the other half of the species. Men, intheir two forms, of savage and refined, had been scrutinized by theseobservers, and what was wanting in the delineations of the one, wasliberally supplied by the other.
Eleven years, in the life of Martinette, was unrelated. Herconversation suggested the opition that this interval had been spent inFrance. It was obvious to suppose, that a woman, thus fearless andsagacious, had not been inactive at a period like the present, whichcalled forth talents and courage, without distinction of sex, and hadbeen particularly distinguished by female enterprize and heroism. Hername easily led to the suspicion of concurrence with the subverters ofmonarchy, and of participation in their fall. Her flight from themerciless tribunals of the faction that now reigned, would explainpresent appearances.
Martinette brought to their next interview, an air of uncommonexultation. On this being remarked, she communicated the tidings of thefall of the sanguinary tyranny of Robespierre. Her eyes sparkled, andevery feature was pregnant with delight, while she unfolded, with heraccustomed energy, the particulars of this tremendous revolution. Theblood, which it occasioned to flow, was mentioned without any symptomsof disgust or horror.
Constance ventured to ask, if this incident was likely to influenceher own condition.
Yes. It will open the way for my return.
Then you think of returning to a scene of so much danger?
Danger, my girl? It is my element. I am an adorer of liberty, andliberty without peril can never exist.
But so much blood shed, and injustice! Does not your heart shrinkfrom the view of a scene of massacre and tumult, such as Paris haslately exhibited and will probably continue to exhibit?
Thou talkest, Constance, in a way scarcely worthy of thy good sense.Have I not been three years in a camp? What are bleeding wounds andmangled corpses, when accustomed to the daily sight of them for years?Am I not a lover of liberty, and must I not exult in the fall oftyrants, and regret only that my hand had no share in theirdestruction?
But a woman--how can the heart of women be inured to the shedding ofblood?
Have women, I beseech thee, no capacity to reason and infer? Arethey less open than men to the influence of habit? My hand neverfaultered when liberty demanded the victim. If thou wert with me atParis, I could shew thee a fusil of two barrels, which is preciousbeyond any other relique, merely because it enabled me to kill thirteenofficers at Jemappe. Two of these were emigrant nobles, whom I knew andloved before the revolution, but the cause they had since espoused,cancelled their claims to mercy.
What, said the startled Constance, have you fought in the ranks?
Certainly. Hundreds of my sex have done the same. Some were impelledby the enthusiasm of love, and some by a mere passion for war; some bythe contagion of example; and some, with whom I myself must be ranked,by a generous devotion to liberty. Brunswick and Saxe Coburg, had tocontend with whole regiments of women: Regiments they would haveformed, if they had been collected into separate bodies.
I will tell thee a secret. Thou wouldst never have seen Martinettede Beauvais, if Brunswick had deferred one day longer, his orders forretreating into Germany.
How so?
She would have died by her own hand.
What could lead to such an outrage?
The love of liberty.
I cannot comprehend how that love should prompt you to suicide.
I will tell thee. The plan was formed and could not miscarry. Awoman was to play the part of a banished Royalist, was to repair to thePrussian camp, and to gain admission to the general. This would haveeasily been granted to a female and an ex-noble. There she was toassassinate the enemy of her country, and to attest her magnanimity byslaughtering herself. I was weak enough to regret the ignominousretreat of the Prussians, because it precluded the necessity of such asacrifice.
This was related with accents and looks that sufficiently attestedits truth. Constantia shuddered and drew back, to contemplate moredeliberately the features of her guest. Hitherto she had read in themnothing that bespoke the desperate courage of a martyr, and the deepdesigning of an assassin. The image which her mind had reflected, fromthe deportment of this woman, was changed. The likeness which she hadfeigned to herself, was no longer seen. She felt that antipathy waspreparing to displace love. These sentiments, however, she concealed.and suffered the conversation to proceed.
Their discourse now turned upon the exploits of several women, whomingled in the tumults of the capital and and in the armies on thefrontiers. Instances were mentioned of ferocity in some, andmagnanimity in others, which almost surpassed belief. Constancelistened greedily, though not with approbation, and acquired, at everysentence, new desire to be acquainted with the personal history ofMatinette. On mentioning this wish, her friend said, that sheendeavoured to amuse her exile, by composing her own memoirs, and that,on her next visit, she would bring with her the volume, which she wouldsuffer Constance to read.
A separation of a week elapsed. She felt some impatience for therenewal of their intercourse, and for the perusal of the volume thathad been mentioned. One evening Sarah Baxter, whom Constance had placedin her own occasional service, entered the room with marks of great joyand surprize, and informed her that she at length had discovered MissMonrose. From her abrupt and prolix account, it appeared, that Sarahhad overtaken Miss Monrose in the street, and guided by her owncuriosity, as well as by the wish to gratify her mistress, she hadfollowed the stranger. To her utter astonishment the lady had paused atMr. Dudley's door, with a seeming resolution to enter it, but,presently, resumed her way. Instead of pursuing her steps further,Sarah had stopped to communicate this intelligence to Constance. Havingdelivered her news, she hastened away, but returning, in a moment, witha countenance of new surprize, she informed her mistress, that onleaving the house she had met Miss Monrose at the door, on the point ofentering. She added that the stranger had enquired for Constance, andwas now waiting below.
Constantia took no time to reflect upon an incident so unexpectedand so strange, but proceeded forthwith to the parlour. Martinette onlywas there. It did not instantly occur to her that this lady andMademoiselle Monrose, might possibly be the same. The enquiries shemade speedily removed her doubts, and it now appeared that the woman,about whose destiny she had formed so many conjectures, and fostered somuch anxiety, was no other than the daughter of Roselli.
Having readily answered her questions, Martinette enquired in herturn, into the motives of her friend's curiosity. These were explainedby a succinct account of the transactions, to which the deceased Baxterhad been a witness. Constance concluded, with mentioning her ownreflections on the tale, and intimating her wish to be informed, howMartinette had extricated herself from a situation so calamitous.
Is there any room for wonder on that head? replied the guest. It wasabsurd to stay longer in the house. Having finished the interment ofRoselli (soldier-fashion) for he was the man who suffered his foolishregrets to destroy him, I forsook the house. Roselli was by no meanspoor, but he could not consent to live at ease, or to live at all,while his country endured such horrible oppressions, and when so manyof his friends had perished. I complied with his humour, because itcould not be changed, and I revered him too much to desert him.
But whither, said Constance, could you seek shelter at a time likethat? The city was desolate, and a wandering female could scarcely bereceived under any roof. All inhabited houses were closed at that hour,and the fear of intection would have shut them against you, if they hadnot been already so.
Hast thou forgotten that there were at that time, at least tenthousand French in this city, fugitives from Marat and from St.Domingo? That they lived in utter fearlessness of the reigning disease:sung and loitered in the public walks, and prattled at their doors,with all their customary unconcern? Supposest thou that there were noneamong these, who would receive a country woman, even if her name hadnot been Martinette de Beauvais? Thy fancy has depicted strange things,but believe me, that, without a farthing and without a name, I shouldnot have incurred the slightest inconvenience. The death of Roselli Iforesaw, because it was gradual in its approach, and was sought by himas a good. My grief, therefore, was exhausted before it came, and Irejoiced at his death, because it was the close of all his sorrows. Therueful pictures of my distress and weakness, which were given byBaxter, existed only in his own fancy.
Martinette pleaded an engagement, and took her leave, professing tohave come merely to leave with her the promised manuscript. Thisinterview, though short, was productive of many reflections, on thedeceitfulness of appearances, and on the variety of maxims by which theconduct of human beings is regulated. She was accustomed to impart allher thoughts and relate every new incident to her father. With thisview she now hied to his apartment. This hour it was her custom, whendisengaged, always to spend with him.
She found Mr. Dudley busy in revolving a scheme, which variouscircumstances had suggested and gradually conducted to maturity. Noperiod of his life had been equally delightful, with that portion ofhis youth which he had spent in Italy. The climate, the language, themanners of the people, and the sources of intellectual gratification,in painting and music, were congenial to his taste. He had reluctantlyforsaken these enchanting seats, at the summons of his father, but, onhis return to his native country, had encountered nothing but ignominyand pain. Poverty and blindness had beset his path, and it seemed as ifit were impossible to fly too far from the scene of his disasters. Hismisfortunes could not be concealed from others, and every thing aroundhim seemed to renew the memory of all that he had suffered. All theevents of his youth served to entice him to Italy, while all theincidents of his subsequent life, concurred to render disgutsful hispresent abode.
His daughter's happiness was not to be forgotten. This he imaginedwould be eminently promoted by the scheme. It would open to her newavenues to knowledge. It would snatch her from the odious pursuit of ,and by a variety of objects and adventures, efface from her mind anyimpression which his dangerous artifices might have made upon it.
This project was now communicated to Constantia. Every argumentadapted to influence her choice, was employed. He justly conceived thatthe only obstacle to her adoption of it, related to . He exspatiated onthe dubious character of this man, the wildness of his schemes, and themagnitude of his errors. What could be expected from a man, half ofwhose life had been spent at the head of a band of Cassacks, spreadingdevastation in the regions of the Danube, and supporting by flagitiusintrigues, the tyranny of Catharine, and the other half in traversinginhospitable countries, and extinguishing what remained of clemency andjustice, by intercourse with savages?
It was admitted that his energies were great, but misdirected, andthat to restore them to the guidance of truth, was not in itselfimpossible, but it was so with relation to any power that shepossessed. Conformity would flow from their marriage, but thisconformity was not to be expected from him. It was not his custom toabjure any of his doctrines or recede from any of his claims. She knewlikewise the conditions of their union. She must go with him to somecorner of the world, where his boasted system was established. What wasthe road to it, he had carefully concealed, but it was evident that itlay beyond the precincts of civilized existence.
Whatever were her ultimate decision, it was at least proper to delayit. Six years were yet wanting of that period, at which only sheformerly considered marriage as proper. To all the general motives fordeferring her choice, the conduct of superadded the weightiest. Theircorrespondence might continue, but her residence in Europe and conversewith mankind, might enlighten her judgment and qualify her for a morerational decision.
Constantia was not uninfluenced by these reasonings. Instead ofreluctantly admitting them, she somewhat wondered that they had notbeen suggested by her own reflections. Her imagination anticipated herentrance on that mighty scene with emotions little less than rapturous.Her studies had conferred a thousand ideal charms on a theatre, whereScipio and Cæsar had performed their parts. Her wishes were noless importunate to gaze upon the Alps and Pyrenees, and to vivify andchasten the images collected from books, by comparing them with theirreal prototypes.
No social ties existed to hold her to America. Her only kinsman andfriend would be the companion of her journies. This project waslikewise recommended by advantages of which she only was qualified tojudge. Sophia Westwyn had embarked, four years previous to this date,for England, in company with an English lady and her husband. Thearrangements that were made forbad either of the friends to hope for afuture meeting: Yet now, by virtue of this project, this meeting seemedno longer to be hopeless.
This burst of new ideas and new hopes on the mind of Constance tookplace in the course of a single hour. No change in her externalsituation had been wrought, and yet her mind had undergone the mostsignal revolution. The novelty as well as greatness of the prospectkept her in a state of elevation and awe, more ravishing than any shehad ever experienced. Anticipations of intercourse with nature in hermost august forms, with men in diversified states of society, with theposterity of Greeks and Romans, and with the actors that were now uponthe stage, and above all with the being whom absence and the want ofother attachments, had, in some sort, contributed to deify, made thisnight pass away upon the wings of transport.
The hesitation which existed on parting with her father, speedilygave place to an ardour impatient of the least delay. She saw noimpediments to the immediate commencement of the voyage. To delay it amonth or even a week, seemed to be unprofitable tardiness. In thisferment of her thoughts, she was neither able nor willing to sleep. Inarranging the means of departure and anticipating the events that wouldsuccessively arise, there was abundant food for contemplation.
She marked the first dawnings of the day and rose. She feltreluctance to break upon her father's morning slumbers, but consideredthat her motives were extremely urgent, and that the pleasure affordedhim by her zealous approbation of his scheme, would amply compensatehim for this unseasonable intrusion on his rest. She hastened thereforeto his chamber. She entered with blithsome steps, and softly drew asidethe curtain.
Unhappy Constance! At the moment when thy dearest hopes had buddedafresh, when the clouds of insecurity and disquiet had retired from thyvision, wast thou assailed by the great subverter of human schemes.Thou sawest nothing in futurity but an eternal variation and successionof delights. Thou wast hastening to forget dangers and sorrows whichthou fondly imaginedst were never to return. This day was to be theoutset of a new career; existence was henceforth to be embellished withenjoyments, hitherto scarcely within the reach of hope.
Alas! Thy predictions of calamity seldom failed to be verified. Notso thy prognostics of pleasure. These, though fortified by everycalculation of contingencies, were edifices grounded upon nothing. Thylife was a struggle with malignant destiny; a contest for happiness inwhich thou wast fated to be overcome.
She stooped to kiss the venerable cheek of her father, and, bywhispering, to break his slumber. Her eye was no sooner fixed upon hiscountenance, than she started back and shrieked. She had no power toforbear. Her outcries were piercing and vehement. They ceased only withthe cessation of breath. She sunk upon a chair in a state partakingmore of death than of life, mechanically prompted to give vent to heragonies in shrieks, but incapable of uttering a sound.
The alarm called her servants to the spot. They beheld her dumb,wildly gazing, and gesticulating in a way that indicated frenzy. Shemade no resistence to their efforts, but permitted them to carry herback to her own chamber. Sarah called upon her to speak and to explainthe cause of these appearances, but the shock which she had endured,seemed to have irretrievably destroyed her powers of utterance.
The terrors of the affectionate Sarah were increased. She kneeled bythe bed-side of her mistress, and with streaming eyes, besought theunhappy lady to compose herself. Perhaps the sight of weeping inanother possessed a sympathetic influence, or nature had made provisionfor this salutary change: However that be, a torrent of tears now cameto her succour, and rescued her from a paroxysm of insanity, which itslonger continuance might have set beyond the reach of cure.
Meanwnile, a glance at his master's countenance made Fabian fullyacquainted with the nature of the scene. The ghastly visage of Mr.Dudley shewed that he was dead, and that he had died in some terrificand mysterious manner. As soon as this faithful servant recovered fromsurprize, the first expedient which his ingenuity suggested, was to flywith tidings of this event to Mr. Melbourne. That gentleman instantlyobeyed the summons. With the power of weeping, Constantia recovered thepower of reflection. This, for a time, served her only as a medium ofanguish. Melbourne mingled his tears with hers, and endeavoured, bysuitable remonstrances, to revive her fortitude.
The filial passion is perhaps instinctive to man; but its energy ismodified by various circumstances. Every event in the life of Constancecontributed to heighten this passion beyond customary bounds. In thehabit of perpetual attendance on her father, of deriving from him herknowledge, and sharing with him the hourly fruits of observation andreflection, his existence seemed blended with her own. There was noother whose concurrence and council she could claim, with whom adomestic and uninterrupted alliance could be maintained. The only bondof consanguinity was loosened, the only prop of friendship was takenaway.
Others, perhaps, would have observed, that her father's existencehad been merely a source of obstruction and perplexity; that she hadhitherto acted by her own wisdom, and would find, hereafter, lessdifficulty in her choice of schemes, and fewer impediments to theexecution.--These reflections occurred not to her. This disaster hadincreased, to an insupportable degree, the vacancy and dreariness ofher existence The face she was habituated to behold, had disappearedforever; the voice, whose mild and affecting tones, had so long beenfamiliar to her ears, was hushed into eternal silence. The felicity towhich she clung was ravished away: Nothing remained to hinder her fromsinking into utter despair.
The first transports of grief having subsided, a source ofconsolation seemed to be opened in the belief that her father had onlychanged one form of being for another: That he still lived to be theguardian of her peace and honor; to enter the recesses of her thought:To forewarn her of evil and invite her to good. She grasped at theseimages with eagerness, and fostered them as the only solaces of hercalamity. They were not adapted to inspire her with cheerfulness, butthey sublimed her sensations, and added an inexplicable fascination tosorrow.
It was unavoidable sometimes to reflect upon the nature of thatdeath which had occurred. Tokens were sufficiently apparent thatoutward violence had been the cause. Who could be the performer of soblack a deed, by what motives he was guided were topics of fruitlessconjecture. She mused upon this subject, not from the thirst ofvengeance, but from a mournful curiosity. Had the perpetrator stoodbefore her, and challenged retribution, she would not have lifted afinger to accuse or to punish. The evil already endured, left her nopower to concert and execute projects for extending that evil toothers. Her mind was unnerved, and recoiled with loathing fromconsiderations of abstract justice, or political utility, when theyprompted to the prosecution of the murderer.
Melbourne was actuated by different views, but, on this subject, hewas painfully bewildered. Mr. Dudley's deportment to his servants andneighbours, was gentle and humane. He had no dealings with thetrafficking or labouring part of mankind. The fund which supplied hiscravings of necessity or habit, was his daughter's. His recreations andemployments were harmless and lonely. The evil purpose was limited tohis death, for his chamber was exactly in the same state in whichnegligent security had left it. No midnight footstep or voice, nounbarred door or lifted window afforded tokens of the presence, ortraces of the entrance or flight, of the assassin.
The meditations of Constantia, however, could not fail, in some oftheir circuities, to encounter the image of Craig. His agency in theimpoverishment of her father, and in the scheme by which she had liketo have been loaded with the penalties of forgery, was of an imperviousand unprecedented kind. Motives were unveiled by time, in some degree,accounting for his treacherous proceeding, but there was room tosuppose an inborn propensity to mischief. Was he not the authour ofthis new evil? His motives and his means were equally inscrutable, buttheir inscrutability might flow from her own defects in discernment andknowledge, and time might supply her defects in this as in formerinstances.
These images were casual. The causes of the evil were seldomcontemplated. Her mind was rarely at liberty to wander from reflectionon her irremidiable loss. Frequently, when confused by distressfulrecollections, she would detect herself going to her father's chamber.Often his well known accents would ring in her ears, and the momentaryimpulse would be to answer his calls. Her reluctance to sit down to hermeals, without her usual companion, could scarcely be surmounted.
In this state of mind the image of the only friend who survived, orwhose destiny, at least, was doubtful, occurred to her. She sunk intofits of deeper abstraction and dissolved away in tears of moreagonizing tenderness. A week after her father's interment, she shutherself up in her chamber, to torment herself with fruitlessremembrances. The name of Sophia Westwyn was pronounced, and the dittythat solemnized their parting was sung. Now, more than formerly, shebecame sensible of the loss of that portrait, which had been depositedin the hands of M`Crea, as a pledge. As soon as her change of fortunehad supplied her with the means of redeeming it, she hastened to M`Creafor that end. To her unspeakable disappointment he was absent from thecity: He had taken a long journey, and the exact period of his returncould not be ascertained. His clerks refused to deliver the picture, oreven, by searching, to discover whether it was still in their master'spossession. This application had frequently and lately been repeated,but without success; M`Crea had not yet returned and his family wereequally in the dark, as to the day on which his return might beexpected.
She determined on this occasion, to renew her visit. Her incessantdisappointments had almost extinguished hope, and she made enquiries athis door, with a faultering accent and sinking heart. These emotionswere changed into surprize and delight, when answer was made that hehad just arrived. She was instantly conducted into his presence.
The countenance of M`Crea easily denoted, that his visitant was byno means acceptable. There was a mixture of embarrassment andsullenness in his air, which was far from being diminished when thepurpose of this visit was explained. Constance reminded him of theoffer and acceptance of this pledge, and of the conditions with whichthe transaction was accompanied.
He acknowledged, with some hesitation, that a promise had been givento retain the pledge until it were in her power to redeem it, but thelong delay, the urgency of his own wants, and particularly the illtreatment which he conceived himself to have suffered, in thetransaction respecting the forged note, had, in his own opinion,absolved him from this promise. He had therefore sold the picture to agoldsmith, for as much as the gold about it was worth.
This information produced, in the heart of Constantia, a contestbetween indignation and sorrow, that, for a time, debarred her fromspeech. She stifled the anger that was, at length, rising to her lips,and calmly inquired to whom the picture had been sold.
M`Crea answered that for his part he had little dealings in gold andsilver, but every thing of that kind, which fell to his share, hetransacted with Mr. D---. This person was one of the most eminent ofhis profession. His character and place of abode were universallyknown. The only expedient that remained was to apply to him, and toascertain, forthwith, the destiny of the picture. It was too probable,that when separated from its case, the portrait was thrown away ordestroyed, as a mere incumbrance, but the truth was too momentous to bemade the sport of mere probability. She left the house of M`Crea, andhastened to that of the goldsmith.
The circumstance was easily recalled to his remembrance. It was truethat such a picture had been offered for sale, and that he hadpurchased it. The workmanship was curious, and he felt unwilling todestroy it. He therefore hung it up in his shop and indulged the hopethat a purchaser would, sometime, be attracted by the mere beauty ofthe toy.
Constantia's hopes were revived by these tidings, and she earnestlyinquired if it were still in his possession.
No. A young gentleman had entered his shop some months before; thepicture had caught his fancy, and he had given a price which the artistowned he should not have demanded, had he not been encouraged by theeagerness which the gentleman betrayed to possess it.
Who was this gentleman? Had there been any previous acquaintancebetween them? What was his name, his profession, and where was he to befound?
Really, the goldsmith answered, he was ignorant respecting all thoseparticulars. Previously to this purchase, the gentleman had sometimesvisited his shop, but he did not recollect to have since seen him. Hewas unacquainted with his name and his residence.
What appeared to be his motives for purchasing this picture?
The customer appeared highly pleased with it. Pleasure, rather thansurprize, seemed to be produced by the sight of it. If I were permittedto judge, continued the artist, I should imagine that the young man wasacquainted with the original. To say the truth, I hinted as much at thetime, and I did not see that he discouraged the supposition. Indeed, Icannot conceive how the picture could otherwise have gained any valuein his eyes.
This only heightened the eagerness of Constance to trace thefootsteps of the youth. It was obvious to suppose some communication orconnection between her friend and this purchaser. She repeated herenquiries, and the goldsmith, after some consideration, said:---Why, onsecond thoughts, I seem to have some notion of having seen'a figurelike that of my customer, go into a lodging house, in Front-Street,some time before I met with him at my shop.
The situation of this house being satisfactorily described, and theartist being able to afford her no further information, except as tostature and guise, she took her leave. There were two motives impellingher to prosecute her search after this person; the desire of regainingthis portrait and of procuring tidings of her friend. Involved as shewas in ignorance, it was impossible to conjecture, how far thisincident would be subservient to these inestimable purposes. To procurean interview with this stranger, was the first measure which prudencesuggested.
She knew not his name or his person. He was once seen entering alodging house. Thither she must immediately repair, but how tointroduce herself, how to describe the person of whom she was insearch, she knew not. She was beset with embarrassments anddifficulties. While her attention was entangled by these, she proceededunconsciously on her way, and stopped not until she reached the mansionthat had been described. Here she paused to collect her thoughts.
She found no relief in deliberation. Every moment added to herperplexity and indecision. Irresistibly impelled by her wishes, she atlength, in a mood that partook of desperate, advanced to the door andknocked. The summons was immediately obeyed by a woman of decentappearance. A pause ensued, which Constantia at length terminated, by arequest to see the mistress of the house.
The lady courteously answered that she was the person, andimmediately ushered herrisitant into an apartment. Constance beingscated, the lady waited for the disclosure of her message. To prolongthe silence was only to multiply embarrassments. She reverted to thestate of her feelings, and saw that they flowed from inconsistency andfolly. One vigorous effort was sufficient to restore her to composureand self-command.
She began with apologizing for a visit, unpreceeded by anintroduction. The object of her enquiries was a person, with whom itwas of the utmost moment that she should procure a meeting, but whom,by an unfortunate concurrence of circumstances, she was unable todescribe by the usual incidents of name and profession. Her knowledgewas confined to his external appearance, and to the probability of hisbeing an inmate of this house, at the begining of the year. She thenproceeded to describe his person and dress.
It is true, said the lady, such an one as you describe has boardedin this house. His name was Martynne. I have good reason to rememberhim, for he lived with me three months, and then left the countrywithout paying for his board.
He has gone then? said Constance, greatly discouraged by thesetidings.
Yes: He was a man of specious manners and loud pretensions. He camefrom England, bringing with him forged recommendatory letters, andafter passing from one end of the country to the other, contractingdebts which he never paid, and making bargains which he neverfulfilled, he suddenly disappeared. It is likely that he has returnedto Europe.
Had he no kindred, no friends, no companions?
He found none here. He made pretences to alliances in England, whichbetter information has, I believe, since shewn to be false.
This was the sum of the information procurable from this source.Constance was unable to conceal her chagrin. These symptoms wereobserved by the lady, whose curiosity was awakened in turn. Questionswere obliquely started, inviting Constance to a disclosure of herthoughts. No advantage would arise from confidence, and the guest,after a few minutes of abstraction and silence, rose to take herleave.
During this conference, some one appeared to be negligently sportingwith the keys of an harpsichord, in the next apartment. The notes weretoo irregular and faint to make a forcible impression on the ear. Inthe present state of her mind, Constance was merely conscious of thesound, in the intervals of conversation. Having arisen from her seat,her anxiety to obtain some informátion that might lead to thepoint she wished, made her again pause. She endeavoured to invent somenew interrogatory better suited to her purpose, than those which had,already, been employed. A silence on both sides ensued.
During this interval, the unseen musician suddenly refrained fromrambling, and glided into notes of some refinement and complexity. Thecadence was aerial, but a thunderbolt, falling at her feet, would nothave communicated a more visible shock to the senses of Constance. Aglance that denoted a tumult of soul bordering on distraction, was nowfixed upon the door, that led into the room whence the harmonyproceeded. Instantly the cadence was revived, and some accompanyingvoice, was heard to warble Ah! far beyond this world of woes, We meetto part--to part no more.
Joy and grief in their sudden onset, and their violent extremes,approach so nearly, in their influence on human beings, as scarce to bedistinguished. Constantia's frame was still enfeebled by her recentdistresses. The torrent of emotion was too abrupt and too vehement. Herfaculties were overwhelmed, and she sunk upon the floor motionless andwithout sense, but not till she had faintly articulated:
My God! My God! This is a joy unmerited and too great.
I MUST be forgiven if I now introduce myself on the stage. SophiaWestwyn is the friend of Constance, and the writer of this narrative.So far as my fate was connected with that of my friend, if is worthy tobe known. That connection has constituted the joy and misery of myexistence, and has prompted me to undertake this task.
I assume no merit from the desire of knowledge, and superiority totemptation. There is little of which I can boast, but that little Iderived, instrumentally, from Constance. Poor as my attainments are, itis to her that I am indebted for them all. Life itself was the gift ofher father, but my virtue and felicity are her gifts. That I am neitherindigent nor profligate, flows from her bounty.
I am not unaware of the divine superintendence, of the claims uponmy gratitude and service, which pertain to my God. I know that allphysical and moral agents, are merely instrumental to the purpose thathe wills, but though the great author of being and felicity must not beforgotten, it is neither possible nor just to overlook the claims uponour love, with which our fellow-beings are invested.
The supreme love does not absorb, but chasten and enforce allsubordinate affections. In proportion to the rectitude of myperceptions and the ardour of my piety, must I clearly discern andfervently love, the excellence discovered in my fellow-beings, andindustriously bromote their improvement and felicity.
From my infancy to my seventeenth year, I lived in the house of Mr.Dudley. On the day of my birth, I was deserted by my mother. Her temperwas more akin to that of tygress than woman: Yet that is unjust, forbeasts cherish their offspring. No natures but human, are capable ofthat depravity, which makes insensible to the claims of innocence andhelplessness.
But let me not recall her to memory. Have I not enough of sorrow?Yet to omit my causes of disquiet, the unprecedented forlornness of mycondition, and the persecutions of an unnatural parent, would be toleave my character a problem, and the sources of my love of Miss Dudleyunexplored. Yet I must not dwell upon that complication of iniquities,that savage ferocity and unextinguishable hatred of me, whichcharacterized my unhappy mother!
I was not safe under the protection of Mr. Dudley, nor happy in thecaresses of his daughter. My mother asserted the privilege of thatrelation; she laboured for years to obtain the controul of my personand actions; to snatch me from a peaceful and chaste assylum, anddetain me in her own house, where, indeed, I should not have been inwant of raiment and food, but where---
O my mother! Let me not dishonor thy name! Yet it is not in my powerto enhance thy infamy. Thy crimes, unequalled as they were, were,perhaps, expiated by thy penitence. Thy offences are too well known,but perhaps they who witnessed thy freaks of intoxication, thy defianceof public shame, the enormity of thy pollutions, the infatuation thatmade thee glory in the pursuit of a loathesome and detestable trade,may be strangers to the remorse and the abstinence which accompaniedthe close of thy ignominious life.
For ten years was my peace incessantly molested, by the menaces ormachinations of my mother. The longer she meditated my destruction, themore tenacious of her purpose, and indefatigable in her efforts, shebecame. That my mind was harrassed with perpetual alarms, was notenough. The fame and tranquility of Mr. Dudley and his daughter, werehourly assailed. My mother resigned herself to the impulses ofmalignity and rage. Headlong passions and a vigorous, though pervertedunderstanding, were her's. Hence her stratagems to undermine thereputation of my protector, and to bereave him of domestic comfort,were subtle and profound. Had she not herself been careless of thatgood, which she endeavoured to wrest from others, her artifices couldscarcely have been frustrated.
In proportion to the hazard which accrued to my protector andfriend, the more ardent their zeal in my defence, and their affectionfor my person became. They watched over me with ineffable solicitude.At all hours and in every occupation, I was the companion of Constance.All my wants were supplied, in the same proportion as her's. Thetenderness of Mr. Dudley seemed equally divided between us. I partookof his instructions, and the means of every intellectual and personalgratification, were lavished upon me.
The speed of my mother's career in infamy, was at length slackened.She left New-York, which had long been the theatre of her vices.Actuated by a new caprice, she determined to travel through theSouthern States. Early indulgence was the cause of her ruin, but herparents had given her the embellishments of a fashionable education.She delighted to assume all parts, and personate the most oppositecharacters. She now resolved to carry a new name and the mask ofvirtue, into scenes hitherto unvisited.
She journeyed as far as Charleston. Here she met an inexperiencedyouth, lately arrived from England, and in possession of an amplefortune. Her speciousness and artifices seduced him into a precipitatemarriage. Her true character, however, could not be long concealed byherself, and her vices had been too conspicuous, for her long to escaperecognition. Her husband was infatuated by her blandishments. Toabandon her, or to contemplate her depavity with unconcern, wereequally beyond his power. Romantic in his sentiments, his fortitude wasunequal to his disappointments, and he speedily sunk into the grave. Bya similar refinement in generosity, he bequeathed to her hisproperty.
With this accession of wealth, she returned to her ancient abode.The mask, lately worn, seemed preparing to be thrown aside, and herprofligate habits to be resumed with more eagerness than ever, but anunexpected and total revolution was effected, by the exhortations of aMethodist divine. Her heart seemed, on a sudden, to be remoulded, hervices and the abettors of them were abjured, she shut out theintrusions of society, and prepared to expiate, by the rigours ofabstinence and the bitterness of tears, the offences of her pastlife.
In this, as in her former career, she was unacquainted withrestraint and moderation. Her remorses gained strength, in proportionas she cherished them. She brooded over the images of her guilt, tillthe possibility of forgiveness and remission disappeared. Her treatmentof her daughter and her hasband constituted the chief source of hertorment. Her awakened conscience refused her a momentary respite fromits persecutions. Her thought became, by rapid degrees, tempestuous andgloomy, and it was at length evident, that her condition wasmaniacal.
In this state, she was to me an object, no longer of terror, butcompassion. She was surrounded by hirelings, devoid of personalattachment, and anxious only to convert her misfortunes, to their ownadvantage. This evil it was my duty to obviate. My presence for a time,only enhanced the vehemence of her malady, but at length it was only bymy attendance and soothing, that she was diverted from the fellestpurposes. Shocking execrations and outrages, resolutions and efforts todestroy herself and those around her, were sure to take place in myabsence. The moment I appeared before her, her fury abated; hergesticulations were becalmed, and her voice exerted only in incoherentand pathetic lamentations.
These scenes, though so different from those which I had formerlybeen condemned to witness, were scarcely less excruciating. Thefriendship of Constantia Dudley was my only consolation. She took upher abode with me, and shared with me every disgustful and perilousoffice, which my mother's insanity prescribed.
Of this consolation, however, it was my fate to be bereaved. Mymother's state was deplorable, and no remedy hitherto employed, wasefficacious. A voyage to England, was conceived likely to benefit, bychange of temperature and scenes, and by the opportunity it wouldafford of trying the superior skill of English phyicians. This scheme,after various struggles, on my part, was adopted. It was detestable tomy imagination, because it severed me from that friend, in whoseexistence mine was involved, and without whose participation, knowledgelost its attractions, and society became a torment.
The prescriptions of my duty could not be disguised or disobeyed,and we parted. A mutual engagement was formed, to record everysentiment and relate every event that happened, in the life of either,and no opportunity of communicating information, was to be omitted.This engagement was punctually performed on my part. I sought out everymethod of conveyance to my friend, and took infinite pains to procuretidings from her, but all were ineffectual.
My mother's malady declined, but was succeeded by a pulmonarydisease, which threatened her speedy destruction. By the restoration ofher understanding, the purpose of her voyage was obtained, and myimpatience to return, which the inexplicable and ominous silence of myfriend daily increased, prompted me to exert all my powers ofpersuasion, to induce her to re-visit America.
My mother's frenzy was a salutary crisis in her moral history. Shelooked back upon her past conduct with unspeakable loathing, but thisretrospect only invigorated her devotion and her virtue: but thethought of returning to the scene of her unhappiness and infamy, couldnot be endured. Besides, life in her eyes, possessed considerableattractions, and her physicians flattered her with recovery from herpresent disease, if she would change the atmosphere of England for thatof Languedoc and Naples.
I followed her with murmurs and reluctance. To desert her in herpresent critical state would have been inhuman. My mother's aversionsand attachments, habits and views were dissonant with my own.Conformity of sentiments and impressions of maternal tenderness, didnot exist to bind us to each other. My attendance was assiduous, but itwas the sense of duty that rendered my attendance a supportabletask.
Her decay was eminently gradual. No time seemed to diminish herappetite for novelty and change. During three years we traversed everypart of France, Switzerland and Italy. I could not but attend tosurrounding scenes, and mark the progress of the mighty revolution,whose effects, like agitation in a fluid, gradually spread from Paris,the centre, over the face of the neighbouring kingdoms; but therepassed not a day or an hour in which the image of Constance was notrecalled, in which the most pungent regrets were not felt at theinexplicable silence which had been observed by her, and the mostvehement longings indulged to return to my native country. My exertionsto ascertain her condition by indirect means, by interrogating nativesof America, with whom I chanced to meet, were unwearied, but, for along period, ineffectual.
During this pilgrimage, Rome was thrice visited. My mother'sindisposition was hastening to a crisis, and she formed the resolutionof closing her life at the bottom of Vesuvius. We stopped, for the sakeof a few day's repose, at Rome. On the morning after our arrival, Iaccompanied some friends to view the public edifices. Casting my eyesover the vast and ruinous interior of the Coliseo, my attention wasfixed by the figure of a young man, whom, after a moment's pause, Irecollected to have seen in the streets of New-York. At a distance fromhome, mere community of country is no inconsiderable bond of affection.The social spirit prompts us to cling even to inanimate objects, whenthey remind us of ancient fellowships and juvenile attachments.
A servant was dispatched to summon this stranger, who recognized acountry-woman with a pleasure equal to that which I had received. Onnearer view, this person, whose name was Courtland, did not belie myfavorable prepossessions. Our intercourse was soon established on afooting of confidence and intimacy.
The destiny of Constance was always uppermost in my thoughts. Thisperson's acquaintance was originally sought, chiefly in the hope ofobtaining from him some information respecting my friend. On inquiry Idiscovered that he had left his native city, seven months after me.Having tasked his recollection and compared a number of facts, the nameof Dudley at length re-occurred to him. He had casually heard thehistory of Craig's imposture and its consequences. These were nowrelated as ciscumstantially as a memory, occupied by subsequentincidents, enabled him. The tale had been told to him, in a domesticcircle which he was accustomed to frequent, by the person who purchasedMr. Dudley's lute, and restored it to its previous owner, on theconditions formerly mentioned.
This tale filled me with anguish and doubt. My impatience to searchout this unfortunate girl, and share with her her sorrows or relievethem, was anew excited by this mournful intelligence. That ConstantiaDudley was reduced to beggary, was too abhorrent to my feelings torecieve credit, yet the sale of her father's property, comprising evenhis furniture and cloathing, seemed to prove that she had fallen evento this depth. This enabled me in some degree to account for hersilence. Her generous spirit would induce her to conceal misfortunesfrom her friend, which no communication would alleviate. It waspossible that she had selected some new abode, and that in consequence,the letters I had written, and which amounted to volumes, had neverreached her hands.
My mother's state would not suffer me to obey the impulse of myheart. Her frame was verging towards dissolution. Courtland'sengagements allowed him to accompany us to Naples, and here the longseries of my mother's pilgrimages, closed in death. Her obsequies wereno sooner performed, than I determined to set out on my long projectedvoyage. My mother's property, which, in consequence of her decease,devolved upon me, was not inconsiderable. There is scarcely any good sodear, to a rational being, as competence. I was not unacquainted withits benefits, but this acquisition was valuable to me chiefly as itenabled me to re-unite my fate to that of Constance.
Courtland was my countryman and friend. He was destitute of fortune,and had been led to Europe partly by the spirit of adventure, andpartly on a mereabtile project. He had made sale of his property, onadvantageous terms, in the ports of France, and resolved to consume theproduce in examining this scene of heroic exploits and memorablerevolutions. His slender stock, though frugally and even parsimoniouslyadministered, was nearly exhausted, and at the time of our meeting atRome, he was making reluctant preparations to return.
Sufficient opportunity was afforded us, in an unrestrained anddomestic intercourse of three months, which succeeded our Romaninterview, to gain a knowledge of each other. There was that conformityof tastes and views between us, which could scarcely fail, at an age,and in a situation like ours, to give birth to tenderness. Myresolution to hasten to America, was peculiarly unwelcome to my friend.He had offered to be my companion, but this offer, my regard to hisinterest obliged me to decline; but I was willing to compensate him forthis denial, as well as to gratify my own heart, by an immediatemarriage.
So long a residence in England and Italy, had given birth tofriendships and connections of the dearest kind. I had no view but tospend my life with Courtland, in the midst of my maternal kindred whowere English. A voyage to America, and re-union with Constance werepreviously indispensable, but I hoped that my friend might be prevailedupon, and that her disconnected situation would permit her, to returnwith me to Europe. If this end could not be accomplished, it was myinflexible purpose to live and to die with her. Suitably to thisarrangement, Courtland was to repair to London, and wait patiently tillI should be able to rejoin him there, or to summon him to meet me inAmerica.
A week after my mother's death, I became a wife, and embarked, thenext day, at Naples, in a Ragusan ship, destined for New-York. Thevoyage was tempestuous and tedious. The vessel was necessitated to makea short stay at Toulon. The state of that city, however, then inpossession of the English, and besieged by the revolutionary forces,was adverse to commercial views. Happily, we resumed our voyage, on theday previous to that on which the place was evacuated by the British.Our seasonable departure rescued us from witnessing a scene of horrors,of which the history of former wars, furnish us with few examples.
A cold and boisterous navigation awaited us. My palpitations andinquietudes augmented as we approached the American coast. I shall notforget the sensations which I experienced on the sight of the Beacon atSandy-Hook. It was first seen at midnight, in a stormy and becloudedatmosphere, emerging from the waves, whose fluctuation allowed it, forsome time, to be visible only by fits. This token of approaching land,affected me as much as if I had reached the threshhold of my friend'sdwelling.
At length we entered the port, and I viewed, with high-raised, butinexplicable feelings, objects with which I had been from infancyfamiliar. The flag-staff erected on the battery, recalled to myimagination the pleasures of the evening and morning walks, which I hadtaken on that spot, with the lost Constantia. The dream was fondlycherished, that the figure which I saw, loitering along the terrace,was her's.
On disembarking, I gazed at every female passenger, in hope that itwas she whom I sought. An absence of three years, had obliterated frommy memory none of the images which attended me on my departure.
After a night of repose rather than of sleep, I began the searchafter my friend. I went to the house which the Dudleys formerlyinhabited, and which had been the asylum of my infancy. It was nowoccupied by strangers, by whom no account could be given of its formertenants. I obtained directions to the owner of the house. He wasequally unable to satisfy my curiosity. The purchase had been made at apublic sale, and terms had been settled not with Dudley, but with theSheriff.
It is needless to say, that the history of Craig's imposture and itsconsequences, were confirmed by every one who resided at that period inNew-York. The Dudleys were well remembered, and their disappearance,immediately after their fall, had been generally noticed, but whitherthey had retired, was a problem which no one was able to solve.
This evasion was strange. By what motives the Dudleys were inducedto change their ancient abode, could be vaguely guessed. My friend'sgrandfather was a native of the West-Indies. Descendants of the samestock still resided in Tobago. They might be affluent, and to them, itwas possible, that Mr. Dudley, in this change of fortune, had betakenhimself for relief. This was a mournful expedient, since it would raisea barrier between my friend and myself scarcely to be surmounted.
Constantia's mother was stolen by Mr. Dudley from a Convent atAmiens. There were no affinities, therefore, to draw them to France.Her grandmother was a native of Baltimore, of a family of some note, byname Ridgeley. This family might still exist, and have either affordedan asylum to the Dudleys, or, at least, be apprised of their destiny.It was obvious to conclude that they no longer existed within theprecincts of New-York. A journey to Baltimore was the nextexpedient.
This journey was made in the depth of winter, and by the speediestconveyance. I made no more than a day's sojourn in Philadelphia. Theepidemic by which that city had been lately ravaged, I had not heard oftill my arrival in America. Its devastations were then painted to myfancy in the most formidable colours. A few months only had elapsedsince its extinction, and I expected to see numerous marks of miseryand dispopulation.
To my no small surprize, however, no vestiges of this calamity wereto be discerned. All houses were open, all streets thronged, and allfaces thoughtless or busy. The arts and the amusements of life seemedas sedulously cultivated as ever. Little did I then think what hadbeen, and what, at that moment, was the condition of my friend. I stoptfor the sake of respite from fatigue, and did not, therefore, pass muchtime in the streets. Perhaps, had I walked seasonably abroad, we mighthave encountered each other, and thus have saved ourselves from athousand anxieties.
At Baltimore I made myself known, without the formality ofintroduction, to the Ridgeleys. They acknowledged their relationship toMr. Dudley, but professed absolute ignorance of his fate. Indirectintercourse only had been maintained, formerly, by Dudley with hismother's kindred. They had heard of his misfortune, a twelvemonth afterit happened, but what measures had been subsequently pursued, theirkinsman had not thought proper to inform them.
The failure of this expedient almost bereft me of hope. Neither myown imagination nor the Ridgeleys, could suggest any new mode by whichmy purpose was likely to be accomplished. To leave America, withoutobtaining the end of my visit, could not be thought of without agony,and yet the continuance of my stay promised me no relief from myuncertainties.
On this theme, I ruminated without ceasing. I recalled everyconversation and incident of former times, and sought in them a clue,by which my present conjectures might be guided. One night, immersedalone in my chamber, my thoughts were thus employed. My train ofmeditation was, on this occasion, new. From the review of particularsfrom which no satisfaction had hitherto been gained, I passed to avague and comprehensive retrospect.
Mr. Dudley's early life, his profession of a painter, his zeal inthis pursuit, and his reluctance to quit it, were remembered. Would henot revert to this profession, when other means of subsistence weregone. It is true, similar obstacles with those which had formerlyoccasioned his resort to a different path, existed at present, and nopainter of his name was to be found in Philadelphia, Baltimore, orNew-York. But would it not occur to him, that the patronage denied tohis skill, by the frugal and unpolished habits of his countrymen, mightwith more probability of success, be sought from the opulence andluxury of London? Nay, had he not once affirmed in my hearing, that ifhe ever were reduced to poverty, this was the method he wouldpursue?
This conjecture was too bewitching to be easily dismissed. Every newreflection augmented its force. I was suddenly raised by it from thedeepest melancholy to the region of lofty and gay hopes. Happiness, ofwhich I had began to imagine myself irretrievably bereft, seemed oncemore to approach within my reach. Constance would not only be found,but be met in the midst of those comforts which her father's skillcould not fail to procure, and on that very stage where I most desiredto encounter her. Mr. Dudley had many friends and associates of hisyouth in London. Filial duty had repelled their importunities to fixhis abode in Europe, when summoned home by his father. On his father'sdeath these solicitations had been renewed, but were disregarded forreasons, which he, afterwards, himself confessed, were fallacious. Thatthey would, a third time be preferred, and would regulate his conduct,seemed to me incontestable.
I regarded with wonder and deep regret, the infatuation that hadhitherto excluded these images from my understanding and my memory. Howmany dangers and toils had I endured since my embarkation at Naples, tothe present moment? How many lingering minutes had I told since myfirst interview with Courtland? All were owing to my own stupidity. Hadmy present thoughts been seasonably suggested, I might long since havebeen restored to the embraces of my friend, without the necessity of anhour's separation from my husband.
These were evils to be repaired as far as it was possible. Nothingnow remained but to precure a passage to Europe. For this end diligentinquiries were immediately set in foot. A vessel was found, which, in afew weeks, would set out upon the voyage. Having bespoken a conveyance,it was incumbent on me to sustain with patience the unwelcomedelay.
Meanwhile, my mind, delivered from the dejection and perplexitiesthat lately haunted it, was capable of some attention to surroundingobjects. I marked the peculiarities of manners and language in my newabode, and studied the effects which a political and religious system,so opposite to that with which I had conversed, in Italy andSwitzerland, had produced. I found that the difference between Europeand America, lay chiefly in this; that, in the former, all thingstended to extremes, whereas, in the latter, all things tended to thesame level. Genius and virtue, and happiness, on these shores, weredistinguished by a sort of mediocrity. Conditions were less unequal,and men were strangers to the heights of enjoyment and the depths ofmisery, to which the inhabitants of Europe are accustomed.
I received friendly notice and hospitable treatment from theRidgeleys. These people were mercantile and plodding in their habits. Ifound in their social circle, little exercises for the sympathies of myheart, and willingly accepted their aid to enlarge the sphere of myobservation.
About a week before my intended embarkation, and when suitablepreparation had been made for that event, a lady arrived in town, whowas cousin to my Constantia. She had frequently been mentioned infavorable terms, in my hearing. She had passed her life, in a ruralabode with her father, who cultivated his own domain, lying forty milesfrom Baltimore.
On an offer being made to introduce us to each other, I consented toknow one whose chief recommendation, in my eyes, consisted in heraffinity to Constance Dudley. I found an artless and attractive female,unpolished and undepraved by much intercourse with mankind. At firstsight, I was powerfully struck by the resemblances of her features tothose of my friend, which sufficiently denoted their connection with acommon stock.
The first interview afforded mutual satisfaction. On our secondmeeting, discourse insensibly led to the mention of Miss Dudley, and ofthe design which had brought me to America. She was deeply affected bythe earnestness with which I expatiated on her cousin's merits, and bythe proofs which my conduct had given of unlimited attachment.
I dwelt immediately on the measures which I had hithertoineffectually pursued to trace her footsteps, and detailed the groundsof my present belief, that we should meet in London. During thisrecital, my companion sighed and wept. When I finished my tale, hertears, instead of ceasing, flowed with new vehemence. This appearanceexcited some surprize, and I ventured to ask the cause of hergrief.
Alas! She replied, I am personally a stranger to my Cousin, but hercharacter has been amply displayed to me by one who knew her well. Iweep to think how much she has suffered. How much excellence we havelost!
Nay, said I, all her sufferings will, I hope, be compensated, and Iby no means consider her as lost. If my search in London beunsuccessful, then shall I indeed despair.
Despair then, already, said my sobbing companion, for your searchwill be unsuccessful. How I feel for your disappointment! but it cannotbe known too soon. My Cousin is dead!
These tidings were communicated with tokens of sincerity and sorrow,that left me no room to doubt that they were believed by the relater.My own emotions were suspended till interrogations had obtained aknowledge of her reasons for crediting this fatal event, and till shehad explained the time and manner of her death. A friend of MissRidgeley's father had witnessed the devastations of the yellow fever inPhiladelphia. He was apprized of the relationship that subsistedbetween his friend and the Dudleys. He gave a minute and circumstantialaccount of the arts of Craig. He mentioned the removal of my friends toPhiladelphia, their obscure and indigent life, and finally, theirfalling victims to the pestilence.
He related the means by which he became apprized of their fate, anddrew a picture of their death, surpassing all that imagination canconceive of shocking and deplorable. The quarter where they lived wasnearly desolate. Their house was shut up, and, for a time, imagined toto be uninhabited. Some suspicions being awakened, in those whosuperintended the burial of the dead, the house was entered, and thefather and child discovored to be dead. The former was stretched uponhis wretched pallet, while the daughter was found on the floor of thelower room, in a state that denoted the sufferance, not only ofdisease, but of famine.
This tale was false. Subsequent discoveries proved this to be adetestable artifice of Craig, who stimulated by incurable habits, hadinvented these disasters, for the purpose of enhancing the opinion ofhis humanity, and of furthering his views on the fortune and daughterof Mr. Ridgeley.
Its falsehood, however, I had as yet no means of ascertaining. Ireceived it as true, and at once dismissed all my claims upon futurity.All hopes of happiness, in this mutable and sublunary scene, was fled.Notning remained, but to join my friend in a world, where woes are atan end and virtue finds its recompence. Surely, said I, there willsometime be a close to calamity and discord. To those whose lives havebeen blameless, but harassed by inquietudes, to which not their own,but the errors of others have given birth, a fortress will hereafter beassigned, unassailable by change, impregnable to sorrow.
O! my ill-fated Constance! I will live to cherish thy remembrance,and to emulate thy virtue. I will endure the privation of thyfriendship and the vicissitudes that shall befall me, and draw myconsolation and courage, from the foresight of no distant close to thisterrestrial scene, and of ultimate and everlasting union with thee.
This consideration, though it kept me from confusion and despair,could not, but with the healing aid of time, render me tranquil orstrenuous. My strength was unequal to the struggle of my passions. Theship in which I engaged to embark, could not wait for my restoration tohealth, and I was left behind.
Mary Ridgeley was artless and affectionate. She saw that her societywas dearer to me than that of any other, and was therefore seldomwilling to leave my chamber. Her presence, less on her own account,than by reason of her personal resemblance and her affinity by birth toConstance, was a powerful solace.
I had nothing to detain me longer in America. I was anxious tochange my present lonely state, for the communion of those friends, inEngland, and the performance of those duties, which were left to me. Iwas informed that a British Packet, would shortly sail from New-York.My frame was sunk into greater weakness, than I had felt at any formerperiod; and I conceived, that to return to New-York, by water, was morecommodious than to perform the journey by land.
This arrangement was likewise destined to be disappointed. Onemorning I visited, according to my custom, Mary Ridgeley. I found herin a temper somewhat inclined to gaiety. She rallied me, with greatarchness, on the care with which I had concealed from her a tenderengagement, into which I had lately entered.
I supposed myself to comprehend her allusion, and, therefore,answered that accident rather than design, had made me silent on thesubject of marriage. She had hitherto known me by no appellation, butSophia Courtland. I had thought it needless to inform her, that I wasindebted for my name to my husband, Courtland being his name.
All that, said my friend, I know already, and, So you sagely thinkthat my knowledge goes no farther than that? We are not bound to loveour husbands longer than their lives. There is no crime, I believe, inpreferring the living to the dead, and most heartily do I congratulateyou on your present choice.
What mean you? I confess your discourse surpasses mycomprehension.
At that moment, the bell at the door, rung a loud peal. MissRidgeley hastened down at this signal, saying, with muchsignificance---
I am a poor hand at solving a riddle. Here comes one who, if Imistake not, will find no difficulty in clearing up your doubts.
Presently, she came up, and said, with a smile of still greaterarchness:--Here is a young gentleman, a friend of mine, to whom I musthave the pleasure of introducing you. He has come for the specialpurpose of solving my riddle---I attended her to the parlour withouthesitation.
She presented me, with great formality, to a youth, whose appearancedid not greatly prepossess me in favor of his judgment. He approachedme with an air, supercilious and ceremonious, but the moment he caughta glance at my face, he shrunk back, visibly confounded andembarrassed. A pause ensued, in which Miss Ridgeley had opportunity todetect the error into which she had been led, by the vanity of thisyoung man.
How now, Mr. Martynne, said my friend, in a tone of ridicule, is itpossible you do not know the lady who is the queen of your affections,the tender and indulgent fair one, whose portrait you carry in yourbosom; and whose image you daily and nightly bedew with your tears andkisses?
Mr. Martynne's confusion instead of being subdued by his struggle,only grew more conspicuous, and after a few incoherent speeches andapologies, during which he carefully avoided encountering my eyes, hehastily departed.
I applied to my friend, with great earnestness, for an explanationof this scene. It seems that, in the course of conversation with him,on the preceeding day, he had suffered a portrait which hung at hisbreast, to catch Miss Ridgeley's eye. On her betraying a desire toinspect it more nearly, he readily produced it. My image had been toowell copied by the artist, not to be instantly recognized.
She concealed her knowledge of the original, and by questions, welladapted to the purpose, easily drew from him confessions that this wasthe portrait of his mistress. He let fall sundry innuendoes andsurmizes, tending to impress her with a notion of the rank, fortune andintellectual accomplishments of the nymph, and particularly of thedoating fondness and measureless confidence, with which she regardedhim.
Her imperfect knowledge of my situation, left her in some doubt asto the truth of these pretensions, and she was willing to ascertain thetruth, by bringing about an interview. To guard against evasions andartifice in the lover, she carefully concealed from him her knowledgeof the original, and merely pretended that a friend of her's, was farmore beautiful than her whom this picture represented. She added, thatshe expected a visit from her friend the next morning, and was willing,by shewing her to Mr. Martynne, to convince him how much he wasmistaken, in supposing the perfections of his mistress unrivalled.
MARTYNNE, while he expressed his confidence, that the experimentwould only confirm his triumph, readily assented to the proposal, andthe interview above described, took place accordingly, the nextmorning. Had he not been taken by surprize, it is likely the address ofa man, who possessed no contemptible powers, would have extricated himfrom some of his embarrassment.
That my portrait should be in the possession of one, whom I hadnever before seen, and whose character and manners entitled him to norespect, was a source of some surprize. This mode of multiplying facesis extremely prevalent in this age, and was eminently characteristic ofthose with whom I had associated in different parts of Europe. Thenature of my thoughts had modified my features into an expression,which my friends were pleased to consider as a model for those whodesired to personify the genius of suffering and resignation.
Hence among those whose religion permitted their devotion to apicture of a female, the symbols of their chosen deity, were added tofeatures and shape that resembled mine. My own caprice, as well as thatof others, always dictated a symbolical, and in every new instance, adifferent accompaniment of this kind. Hence was offered the means oftracing the history of that picture which Martynne possessed.
It had been accurately examined by Miss Ridgeley, and herdescription of the frame in which it was placed, instantly informed methat it was the same which, at our parting, I left in the possession ofConstance. My friend and myself were desirous of employing the skill ofa Saxon painter, by name Eckstein. Each of us were drawn by him, shewith the cincture of Venus, and I with the crescent of Dian. Thissymbol was still conspicuous on the brow of that image, which MissThornville had examined, and served to indentify the originalproprietor.
This circumstance tended to confirm my fears that Constance wasdead, since that she would part with this picture during her life, wasnot to be believed. It was of little moment to discover how it cameinto the hands of the present possessor. Those who carried her remainsto the grave, had probably torn it from her neck and afterwardsdisposed of it for money.
By whatever means, honest or illicit, it had been acquired byMartynne, it was proper that it should be restored to me. It wasvaluable to me because, it had been the property of one whom I loved,and it might prove highly injurious to my fame and my happiness, as thetool of this man's vanity and the attester of his falsehood. I,therefore, wrote him a letter, acquainting him with my reasons fordesiring the repossession of this picture, and offering a price for it,at least double its value, as a mere article of traffic. Martynneaccepted the terms. He transmitted the picture, and with it a note,apologizing for the artifice of which he had been guilty, andmentioning, in order to justify his acceptance of the price which I hadoffered, that he had lately purchased it for an equal sum of aGoldsmith in Philadelphia.
This information suggested a new reflection. Constantia had engagedto preserve, for the use of her friend, copious and accurate memorialsof her life. Copies of these were, on suitable occasions, to betransmitted to me, during my residence abroad. These I had neverreceived, but it was highly probable that her punctuality, in theperformance of the first part of her engagement, had been equal to myown.
What, I asked, had become of these precious memorials? In the wreckof her property were these irretrievably ingulfed? It was not probablethat they had been wantonly destroyed. They had fallen, perhaps, intohands careless or unconscious of their value, or still lay, unknown andneglected, at the bottom of some closet or chest. Their recovery mightbe effected by vehement exertions, or by some miraculous accident.Suitable enquiries, carried on among those who were active in thosescenes of calamity, might afford some clue by which the fate of theDudleys, and the disposition of their property, might come into fullerlight. These inquiries could be made only in Philadelphia, and thither,for that purpose, I now resolved to repair. There was still an intervalof some weeks, before the departure of the packet in which I proposedto embark.
Having returned to the capital, I devoted all my zeal to my darlingproject. My efforts, however, were without success. Those whoadministered charity and succour during that memorable season, and whosurvived, could remove none of my doubts, nor answer any of myinquiries. Innumerable tales, equally disastrous with those which MissRidgeley had heard, were related; but, for a considerable period, noneof their circumstances were sufficiently accordant with the history ofthe Dudleys.
It is worthy of remark, in how many ways, and by what complexity ofmotives, human curiosity is awakened and knowledge obtained. By itsconnection with my darling purpose, every event in the history of thismemorable pest, was earnestly sought and deeply pondered. The powerfulconsiderations which governed me, made me slight those punctiliousimpediments, which, in other circumstances, would have debarred me fromintercourse with the immediate actors and observers. I found none whowere unwilling to expatiate on this topic, or to communicate theknowledge they possessed. Their details were copious in particulars,and vivid in minuteness. They exhibited the state of manners, thediversified effects of evil or heroic passions, and the endless formswhich sickness and poverty assume in the obscure recesses of acommercial and populous city.
Some of these details are too precious to be lost. It is above allthings necessary that we should be thoroughly acquainted with thecondition of our fellow-beings. Justice and compassion are the fruit ofknowledge. The misery that overspreads so large a part of mankind,exists chiefly because those who are able to relieve it do not knowthat it exists. Forcibly to paint the evil, seldom fails to excite thevirtue of the spectator, and seduce him into wishes, at least, if notinto exertions of beneficence.
The circumstances in which I was placed, were, perhaps, whollysingular. Hence the knowledge I obtained, was more comprehensive andauthentic than was possessed by any one, even of the immediate actorsor sufferers. This knowledge will not be useless to myself or to theworld. The motives which dictated the present narrative, will hinder mefrom relinquishing the pen, till my fund of observation and experiencebe exhausted. Meanwhile, let me resume the thread of my tale.
The period allowed me before my departure was nearly expired, and mypurpose seemed to be as far from its accomplishment as ever. Oneevening I visited a lady, who was the widow of a physician, whosedisinterested exertions had cost him his life. She dwelt with patheticearnestness on the particulars of her own distress, and listened withdeep attention to the inquiries and doubts which I laid before her.
After a pause of consideration, she said, that an incident like thatrelated by me, she had previously heard from one of her friends, whosename she mentioned. This person was one of those whose office consistedin searching out the sufferers, and affording them unsought andunsolicited relief. She was offering to introduce me to this person,when he entered the apartment.
After the usual compliments, my friend led the conversation as Iwished. Between Mr. Thomson's tale and that related to Miss Ridgeley,there was an obvious resemblance. The sufferers resided in an obscurealley. They had shut themselves up from all intercourse with theirneighbours, and had died, neglected and unknown. Mr. Thomson was vestedwith the superintendence of this district, and had passed the housefrequently without suspicion of its being tenanted.
He was at length informed by one of those who conducted an hearse,that he had seen the window in the upper story of this house lifted,and a female shew herself. It was night, and the hearse-man chanced tobe passing the door. He immediately supposed that the person stood inneed of his services, and stopped.
This procedure was comprehended by the person at the window, who,leaning out, addressed him in a broken and feeble voice. She asked himwhy he had not taken a different route, and upbraided him forinhumanity in leading his noisy vehicle past her door. She wantedrepose, but the ceaseless rumbling of his wheels would not allow herthe sweet respite of a moment.
This invective was singular, and uttered in a voice which united theutmost degree of earnestness, with a feebleness that rendered it almostinarticulate. The man was at a loss for a suitable answer. His pauseonly increased the impatience of the person at the window, who calledupon him, in a still more anxious tone, to proceed, and intreated himto avoid this alley for the future.
He answered that he must come whenever the occasion called him. Thatthree persons now lay dead in this alley, and that he must beexpeditious in their removal, but that he would return as seldom andmake as little noise as possible.
He was interrupted by new exclamations and upbraidings. Theseterminated in a burst of tears, and assertions, that God and man wereher enemies. That they were determined to destroy her, but she trustedthat the time would come when their own experience would avenge herwrongs, and teach them some compassion for the misery ofothers.--Saying this, she shut the window with violence, and retiredfrom it sobbing with a vehemence, that could be distinctly overheard byhim in the street.
He paused for some time, listening when this passion should cease.The habitation was slight, and he imagined that he heard her traversingthe floor. While he staid, she continued to vent her anguish inexclamations and sighs, and passionate weeping. It did not appear thatany other person was within.
Mr. Thomson being next day informed of these incidents, endeavouredto enter the house, but his signals, though loud and frequentlyrepeated, being unnoticed, he was obliged to gain admission byviolence. An old man, and a female, lovely in the midst of emaciationand decay, were discovered without signs of life. The death of thelatter appeared to have been very recent.
In examining the house, no traces of other inhabitants were to befound. Nothing, serviceable as food, was discovered, but the remnantsof mouldy bread scattered on a table. No information could be gatheredfrom neighbours respecting the condition and name of these unfortunatepeople. They had taken possession of this house, during the rage ofthis malady, and refrained from all communication with theirneighbours.
There was too much resemblance between this and the story formerlyheard, not to produce the belief that they related to the same persons.All that remained was to obtain directions to the proprietor of thisdwelling, and exact from him all that he knew respecting histenants.
I found in him a man of worth and affability. He readily related,that a man applied to him for the use of this house, and that theapplication was received. At the beginning of the pestilence, anumerous family inhabited this tenement, but had died in rapidsuccession. This new applicant was the first to apprize him of thiscircumstance, and appeared extremely anxious to enter on immediatepossession.
It was intimated to him that danger would arise from thepestilential condition of the house. Unless cleansed and purified,disease would be unavoidably contracted. The inconvenience and hazard,this applicant was willing to encounter, and, at length, hinted that noalternative was allowed him, by his present landlord, but to lie in thestreet or to procure some other abode.
What was the external appearance of this person?
He was infirm, past the middle age, of melancholy aspect, andindigent garb. A year had since elapsed, and more characteristicparticulars had not been remarked or were forgotten. The name had beenmentioned, but in the midst of more recent and momentous transactions,had vanished from remembrance. Dudley, or Dolby, or Hadley, seemed toapproach more nearly than any other sounds.
Permission to inspect the house was readily granted. It hadremained, since that period, unoccupied. The furniture and goods werescanty and wretched, and he did not care to endanger his safety, bymeddling with them. He believed that they had not been removed ortouched.
I was insensible of any hazard which attended my visit, and, withthe guidance of a servant, who felt as little apprehension as myself,hastened to the spot. I found nothing but tables and chairs. Cloathingwas no where to be seen. An earthen pot, without handle and broken,stood upon the kitchen hearth. No other implement or vessel for thepreparation of food, appeared.
These forlorn appearances were accounted for by the servant, bysupposing the house to have been long since rifled of every thing worththe trouble of removal, by the villains who occupied the neighbouringhouses; this alley, it seems, being noted for the profligacy of itsinhabitants.
When I reflected that a wretched hovel like this, had been,probably, the last retreat of the Dudleys, when I painted theirsufferings, of which the numberless tales of distress, of which I hadlately been an auditor, enabled me to form an adequate conception, Ifelt as if to lie down and expire on the very spot where Constance hadfallen, was the only sacrifice to friendship, which time had left tome.
From this house I wandered to the field, where the dead had been,promiscuously and by hundreds, interred. I counted the long series ofgraves, which were closely ranged, and, being recently levelled,exhibited the appearance of an harrowed field. Methought I could havegiven thousands, to know in what spot the body of my friend lay, that Imight moisten the sacred earth with my tears. Boards hastily nailedtogether, formed the best receptacle, which the exigences of the timecould grant to the dead. Many corpses were thrown into a singleexcavation, and all distinctions founded on merit and rank, wereobliterated. The father and child had been placed in the same cart, andthrown into the same hole.
Despairing, by any longer stay in this city, to effect my purpose,and the period of my embarkation being near, I prepared to resume myjourney. I should have set out the next day, but a family, with whom Ihad made acquaintance, expecting to proceed to New-York within a week,I consented to be their companion, and, for that end, to delay mydeparture.
Meanwhile, I shut myself up in my apartment, and pursued avocations,that were adapted to the melancholy tenor of my thoughts. The day,preceding that appointed for my journey, arrived. It was necessary tocompleat my arrangements with the family, with whom I was to travel,and to settle with the lady, whose apartments I occupied.
On how slender threads does our destiny hang! Had not a momentaryimpulse tempted me to sing my favorite ditty to the harpsichord, tobeguile the short interval, during which my hostess was conversing withher visitor in the next apartment, I should have speeded to New-York,have embarked for Europe, and been eternally severed from my friend,whom I believed to have died in phrenzy and beggary, but who was aliveand affluent, and who sought me with a diligence, scarcely inferior tomy own. We imagined ourselves severed from each other, by death or byimpassable seas, but, at the moment when our hopes had sunk to thelowest ebb, a mysterious destiny conducted our footsteps to the samespot.
I heard a murmuring exclamation; I heard my hostess call, in a voiceof terror, for help; I rushed into the room; I saw one stretched on thefloor, in the attitude of death; I sprung forward and fixed my eyesupon her countenance; I clasped my hands andarticulated--Constance!--
She speedily recovered from her swoon. Her eyes opened, she moved,she spoke: Still methought it was an illusion of the senses, thatcreated the phantom. I could not bear to withdraw my eyes from hercountenance. If they wandered for a moment, I fell into doubt andperplexity, and again fixed them upon her, to assure myself of herexistence.
The succeeding three days, were spent in a state of dizziness andintoxication. The ordinary functions of nature were disturbed. Theappetite for sleep and for food were confounded and lost, amidst theimpetuosities of a master-passion. To look and to talk to each other,afforded enchanting occupation for every moment. I would not part fromher side, but eat and slept, walked and mused and read, with my armlocked in her's, and with her breath fanning my cheek.
I have indeed much to learn. Sophia Courtland has never been wise.Her affections disdain the cold dictates of discretion, and spurn atevery limit, that contending duties and mixed obligationsprescribe.
And yet, O! precious inebriation of the heart! O! pre-eminent love!What pleasure of reason or of sense, can stand in competition withthose, attendant upon thee?--Whether thou hiest to the fanes of abenevolent deity, or layest all thy homage at the feet of one, who mostvisibly resembles the perfections of our Maker, surely thy sanction isdivine; thy boon is happiness!--
The tumults of curiosity and pleasure did not speedily subside. Thestory of each other's wanderings, was told with endless amplifieationand minuteness. Henceforth, the stream of our existence was to mix; wewere to act and to think in common: Casual witnesses and writtentestimony should become superfluous: Eyes and ears were to be eternallyemployed upon the conduct of each other: Death, when it should come,was not to be deplored, because it was an unavoidable and briefprivation to her that should survive. Being, under any modification, isdear, but that state to which death is a passage, is all-desirable tovirtue and all-compensating to grief.
Meanwhile, precedent events were made the themes of endlessconversation. Every incident and passion, in the course of four years,was revived and exhibited. The name of , was, of course, frequentlyrepeated by my friend: His features and deportment were described: Hermeditations and resolutions, with regard to him, fully disclosed. Mycounsel was asked, in what manner it became her to act.
I could not but harbour aversion to a scheme, which should tend tosever me from Constance, or to give me a competitor in her affections.Besides this, the properties of were of too mysterious a nature, tomake him worthy of acceptance. Little more was known, concerning him,than what he himself had disclosed to the Dudleys, but this knowledgewould suffice to invalidate his claims.
He had dwelt, in his conversations with Constantia, sparingly on hisown concerns. Yet he did not hide from her, that he had been left inearly youth, to his own guidance: That he had embraced, when almost achild, the trade of arms: That he had found service and promotion inthe armies of Potemkin and Romanzow: That he had executed secret anddiplomatic functions, at Constantinople and Berlin: That, in the lattercity, he had met with schemers and reasoners, who aimed at thenew-modelling of the world, and the subversion of all that has hithertobeen conceived elementary and fundamental, in the constitution of manand of government: that some of those reformers had secretly united, tobreak down the military and monarchical fabric of German policy: Thatothers, more wisely, had devoted their secret efforts, not to overturn,but to build: That, for this end, they embraced an exploring andcolonizing project: That he had allied himself to these, and, for thepromotion of their projects, had spent six years of his life, injourneys by sea and land, in tracts unfrequented, till then, by anyEuropean.
What were the moral or political maxims, which this adventurous andvisionary sect had adopted, and what was the seat of their newbornempire, whether on the shore of an Austral continent, or in the heartof desert America, he carefully concealed. These were exhibited orhidden, or shifted, according to his purpose. Not to reveal too much,and not to tire curiosity or over-task belief, was his daily labour. Hetalked of alliance with the family whose name he bore, and who had losttheir honors and estates, by the Hanoverian succession to the crown ofEngland.
I had seen too much of innovation and imposture, in France andItaly, not to regard a man like this, with aversion and fear. The mindof my friend was wavering and unsuspicious. She had lived at a distancefrom scenes, where principles are hourly put to the test of experiment;where all extremes of fortitude and pusillanimity are accustomed tomeet; where recluse virtue and speculative heroism give place as if bymagie, to the last excesses of debauchery and wickedness; where pillageand murder are engrafted, on systems of all-embracing andself-oblivious benevolence; and the good of mankind is professed to bepursued, with bonds of association and covenants of secrecy. Hence myfriend had decided without the sanction of experience, had allowedherself to wander into untried paths, and had hearkened to positions,pregnant with destruction and ignominy.
It was not difficult to exhibit, in their true light, the enormouserrors of this man, and the danger of prolonging their intercourse. Herassent to accompany me to England, was readily obtained. Too muchdispatch could not be used, but the disposal of her property must firsttake place. This was necessarily productive of some delay.
I had been made, contrary to inclination, expert in the managementof all affairs, relative to property. My mother's lunacy, subsequentdisease and death, had imposed upon me obligations and cares, littlesuitable to my sex and age. They could not be eluded or transferred toothers, and, by degrees, experience enlarged my knowledge andfamiliarized my tasks.
It was agreed that I should visit and inspect my friend's estate, inJersey, while she remained in her present abode, to put an end to theviews and expectations of , and to make preparation for her voyage. Wewere reconciled to a temporary separation, by the necessity thatprescribed it.
During our residence together, the mind of Constance was kept inperpetual ferment. The second day after my departure, the turbulence ofher feelings began to subside, and she found herself at leisure topursue those measures which her present situation prescribed.
The time prefixed by for the termination of his absence, had nearlyarrived. Her resolutions respecting this man, lately formed, nowoccurred to her. Her heart drooped as she revolved the necessity ofdisuniting their fates; but that this disunion was proper, could notadmit of doubt. How information of her present views might be mostsatisfactorily imparted to him, was a question not instantly decided.She reflected on the impetuosity of his character; and conceived thather intentions might be most conveniently unfolded in a letter. Thisletter she immediately sat down to write. Just then the door opened,and Ormond entered the apartment.
She was somewhat, and for a moment, startled by this abrupt andunlooked for entrance. Yet she greeted him with pleasure. Her greetingwas received with coldness. A second glance at his countenance informedher that his mind was somewhat discomposed.
Folding his hands on his breast, he stalked to the window, andlooked up at the moon. Presently he withdrew his gaze from this object,and fixed them upon Constance. He spoke, but his words were produced bya kind of effort:
Fit emblem, he exclaimed, of human versatility! One impediment isgone. I hoped it was the only one, but no: The removal of that merelymade room for another. Let this be removed. Well: Fate will interplacea third. All our toils will thus be frustrated, and the ruin willfinally redound upon our heads.--There he stopped.
This strain could not be interpreted by Constance. She smiled, andwithout noticing his incoherences, proceeded to inquire into hisadventures during their separation. He listened to her, but his eyes,fixed upon her's, and his solemnity of aspect were immoveable. When shepaused, he seated himself close to her, and grasped her hand with avehemence that almost pained her, said:
Look at me; steadfastly. Can you read my thoughts? Can yourdiscernment reach the bounds of my knowledge and the bottom of mypurposes? Catch you not a view of the monsters that are starting intobirth here (and he put his left hand to his forehead.) But you cannot.Should I paint them to you verbally, you would call me jester ordeceiver. What pity that you have not instruments for piercing intothoughts!--
I presume, said Constance, affecting cheerfulness which she did notfeel, such instruments would be useless to me. You never scruple to saywhat you think. Your designs are no sooner conceived than they areexpressed. All you know, all you wish, and all you purpose, are knownto others as soon as to yourself. No scruples of decorum; no foresightof consequences, are obstacles in your way.
True, replied he, all obstacles are trampled under foot, butone.
What is the insuperable one?
Incredulity in him that hears. I must not say what will not becredited. I must not relate feats and avow sehemes, when my hearer willsay, Those feats were never performed: These schemes are not your's. Icare not if the truth of my tenets and the practicability of mypurposes, be denied. Still I will openly maintain them: But when myassertions will, themselves, be disbelieved; when it is denied, that Iadopt the creed and project the plans, which I affirm to be adopted andprojected by me, it is needless to affirm.
Tomorrow, I mean to ascertain the height of the lunar mountains, bytravelling to the top of them. Then I will station myself in the tractof the last comet, and wait till its circumvolution suffers me to leapupon it; Then, by walking on its surface, I will ascertain whether itbe hot enough to burn my soles. Do you believe that this can bedone?
No.
Do you believe, in consequence of my assertion, that I design to dothis, and that, in my apprehension, it is easy to be done?
Not; Unless I previously believe you to be lunatic.
Then why should I assert my purposes? Why speak, when the hearerwill infer nothing from my speech, but that I am either lunatic orliar?
In that predicament, silence is best.
In that predicament, I now stand. I am not going to unfold myself.Just now, I pitied thee for want of eyes: 'Twas a foolish compassion.Thou art happy, because thou seest not an inch before thee orbehind.--Here he was for a moment buried in thought; then breaking fromhis reverie, he said: So; your father is dead?
True, said Constance, endeavoaring to suppress her rising emotions,he is no more. It is so recent an event, that I imagined you a strangerto it.
False imagination! Thinkest thou, I would refrain from knowing whatso nearly concerns us both? Perhaps your opinion of my ignoranceextends beyond this: Perhaps, I know not your fruitless search for apicture: Perhaps, I neither followed you, nor led you to a being calledSophia Courtland. I was not present at the meeting. I am unapprized ofthe effects of your romantic passion for each other. I did not witnessthe rapturous effusions and inexorable counsels of the new comer. Iknow not the contents of the letter which you are preparing towrite.--
As he spoke this, the accents of gradually augmented in vehemence.His countenance bespoke a deepening inquietude and growing passion. Hestopped at the mention of the letter, because his voice was overpoweredby emotion. This pause afforded room for the astonishment of Constance.Her interviews and conversations with me, took place at seasons ofgeneral repose, when all doors were fast and avenues shut, in the midstof silence, and in the bosom of retirement. The theme of our discoursewas, commonly, too sacred for any ears but our own: Disclosures were oftoo intimate and delicate a nature, for any but a female audience: theywere too injurious to the fame and peace of Ormond, for him to beadmitted to partake of them: Yet his words implied a full acquaintancewith recent events, and with purposes and deliberations, shrowded, aswe imagined, in impenetrable secrecy.
As soon as Constantia recovered from the confusion of thesethoughts, she eagerly questioned him: What do you know? How do you knowwhat has happened, or what is intended?
Poor Constance! he exclaimed, in a tone bitter and sarcastic. Howhopeless is thy ignorance! To enlighten thee is past my power. What doI know? Every thing. Not a tittle has escaped me. Thy letter issuperfluous: I know its contents before they are written. I was to betold that a soldier and a traveller, a man who refused his faith todreams, and his homage to shadows, merited only scorn andforgetfulness. That thy affections and person were due to another; thatintercourse between us was henceforth to cease; that preparation wasmaking for a voyage to Britain, and that was to walk to his gravealone!
In spite of harsh tones and inflexible features, these words wereaccompanied with somewhat that betrayed a mind full of discord andagony. Constantia's astonishment was mingled with dejection. Thediscovery of a passion, deeper and less curable than she suspected; theperception of embarrassments and difficulties in the path which she hadchosen, that had not previously occurred to her, threw her mind intoanxious suspense.
The measures she had previously concerted, were still approved. Topart from was enjoined by every dictate of discretion and duty. Anexplanation of her motives and views, could not take place moreseasonably than at present. Every consideration of justice to herselfand humanity to Ormond, made it desirable that this interview should bethe last. By inexplicable means, he had gained a knowledge of herintentions. It was expedient, therefore, to state them with clearnessand force. In what words this was to be done, was the subject ofmomentary deliberation.
Her thoughts were discerned, and her speech anticipated by hercompanion.--Why droopest thou, and why thus silent, Constance? Thesecret of thy fate will never be detected. Till thy destiny befinished, it will not be the topic of a single fear. But not forthyself, but me, art thou concerned. Thou dreadest, yet determinest toconfirm my predictions of thy voyage to Europe, and thy severance fromme.
Dismiss thy inquietudes on that score. What misery thy scorn and thyrejection are able to inflict, is inflicted already. Thy decision wasknown to me as soon as it was formed. Thy motives were known. Not anargument or plea of thy counsellor, not a syllable of her invective,not a sound of her persuasive rhetorick escaped my hearing. I know thydecree to be immutable. As my doubts, so my wishes have taken theirflight. Perhaps, in the depth of thy ignorance, it was supposed, that Ishould struggle to reverse thy purpose, by menaces or supplications.That I should boast of the cruelty with which I should avenge animaginary wrong upon myself. No. All is very well: Go. Not a whisper ofobjection or reluctance, shalt thou hear from me.
If I could think, said Constantia, with tremulous hesitation, thatyou part from me without anger; that you see the rectitude of myproceeding--
Anger! Rectitude. I pr'ythee peace. I know thou art going. I knowthat all objection to thy purpose would be vain. Thinkest thou that thystay, undictated by love, the mere fruit of compassion, would afford mepleasure or crown my wishes? No. I am not so dastardly a wretch. Therewas something in thy power to bestow, but thy will accords not with thypower. I merit not the boon, and thou refusest it. I am content.
Here fixed more significant eyes upon her. Poor Constance! hecontinued. Shall I warn thee of the danger that awaits thee? For whatend! To elude it, is impossible. It will come, and thou, perhaps, wiltbe unhappy. Foresight, that enables not to shun, only pre-creates theevil.
Come, it will. Though future, it knows not the empire ofcontingency. An inexorable and immutable decree enjoins it. Perhaps, itis thy nature to meet with calmness what cannot be shunned. Perhaps,when it is passed, thy reason will perceive its irrevocable nature, andrestore thee to peace. Such is the conduct of the wise, but such, Ifear, the education of Constantia Dudley, will debar her frompursuing.
Faign would I regard it as the test of thy wisdom. I look upon thypast life. All the forms of genuine adversity have beset thy youth.Poverty, disease, servile labour, a criminal and hapless parent, havebeen evils which thou hast not ungracefully sustained. An absent friendand murdered father, were added to thy list of woes, and here thycourage was deficient. Thy soul was proof against substantial misery,but sunk into helpless cowardice, at the sight of phantoms.
One more disaster remains. To call it by its true name would beuseless or pernicious. Useless, because thou wouldst pronouce itsoccurrence impossible: Pernicious, because, if its possibility weregranted, the omen would distract thee with fear. How shall I describeit? Is it loss of fame? No. The deed will be unwitnessed by an humancreature. Thy reputation will be spotless, for nothing will be done bythee, unsuitable to the tenor of thy past life. Calumny will not beheard to whisper. All that know thee, will be lavish of their eulogiesas ever. Their eulogies will be as justly merited. Of this merit thouwilt entertain as just and as adequate conceptions as now.
It is no repetition of the evils thou hast already endured: It isneither drudgery nor sickness, nor privation of friends. Strangeperverseness of human reason! It is an evil: It will be thought uponwith agony: It will close up all the sources of pleasurablerecollection: It will exterminate hope: It will endear oblivion, andpush thee into an untimely grave. Yet to grasp it is impossible. Themoment we inspect it nearly, it vanishes. Thy claims to humanapprobation and divine applause, will be undiminished and unaltered byit. The testimony of approving conscience, will have lost none of itsexplicitness and energy. Yet thou wilt feed upon sighs: Thy tears willflow without remission: Thou wilt grow enamoured of death, and perhapswilt anticipate the stroke of disease.
Yet, perhaps, my prediction is groundless as my knowledge. Perhaps,thy discernment will avail, to make thee wise and happy. Perhaps, thouwilt perceive thy privilege of sympathetic and intellectual activity,to be untouched. Heaven grant the non-fulfilment of my prophecy, thydisenthrallment from error, and the perpetuation of thy happiness.
Saying this, withdrew. His words were always accompanied withgestures and looks, and tones, that fastened the attention of thehearer, but the terms of his present discourse, afforded, independentlyof gesticulation and utterance, sufficient motives to attention andremembrance. He was gone, but his image was contemplated by Constance:His words still rung in her ears.
The letter she designed to compose, was rendered, by this interview,unnecessary. Meanings, of which she and her friend alone wereconscious, were discovered by , through some other medium than words:Yet that was impossible: A being, unendowed with preternaturalattributes, could gain the information which this man possessed, onlyby the exertion of his senses.
All human precautions had been used, to baffle the attempts of anysecret witness. She recalled to mind, the circumstances, in whichconversations with her friend had taken place. All had been retirement,secrecy and silence. The hours usually dedicated to sleep, had beendevoted to this better purpose. Much had been said, in a voice, low andscarcely louder than a whisper. To have overheard it at the distance ofa few feet, was apparently impossible.
Their conversations had not been recorded by her. It could not bebelieved, that this had been done by Sophia Courtland. Had and herfriend met, during the interval that had elapsed, between herseparation from the latter, and her meeting with the former? Humanevents are conjoined by links, imperceptible to keenest eyes. OfOrmond's means of information, she was wholly unapprized. Perhaps,accident would, sometime, unfold them. One thing was incontestable.That her schemes and her reasons for adopting them, were known tohim.
What unforeseen effects had that knowledge produced! In whatambiguous terms had he couched his prognostics, of some mighty evilthat awaited her! He had given a terrible, but contradictorydescription, of her destiny. An event was to happen, akin to nocalamity which she had already endured, disconnected with all which theimagination of man is accustomed to deprecate, capable of urging her tosuicide, and yet of a kind, which left it undecided, whether she wouldregard it with indifference.
What reliance should she place upon prophetic incoherencies, thuswild? What precautions should she take, against a danger thusinscrutable and imminent?
These incidents and reflections were speedily transmitted to me. Ihad always believed the character and machinations of , to be worthy ofcaution and fear. His means of information I did not pretend, andthought it useless to investigate. We cannot hide our actions andthoughts, from one of powerful sagacity, whom the detectionsufficiently interests, to make him use all the methods of detection inhis power. The study of concealment, is, in all cases, fruitless orhurtful. All that duty enjoins, is to design and to execute nothing,which may not be approved by a divine and omniscient observer. Humanscrutiny is neither to be solicited, nor shunned. Human approbation orcensure, can never be exempt from injustice, because our limitedperceptions debar us from a thorough knowledge of any actions andmotives but our own.
On reviewing what had passed, between Constantia and me, Irecollected nothing incompatible with purity and rectitude. That wasapprized of all that had passed, I by no means inferred from the tenourof his conversation with Constantia, nor, if this had beenincontestably proved, should I have experienced any trepidation oranxiety on that account.
His obscure and indirect menaces of evil, were of more importance.His discourse on this topic, seemed susceptible only of twoconstructions. Either he intended some fatal mischief, and was willingto torment her by fears, while he concealed from her the nature of herdanger, that he might hinder her from guarding her safety, by suitableprecautions; or, being hopeless of rendering her propitious to hiswishes, his malice was satisfied with leaving her a legacy ofapprehension and doubt.
Constantia's unacquaintance with the doctrines of that school, inwhich was probably instructed, led her to regard the conduct of thisman, with more curiosity and wonder, than fear. She saw nothing but adisposition to sport with her ignorance and bewilder her withdoubts.
I do not believe myself destitute of courage. Rightly to estimatethe danger and encounter it with firmness, are worthy of a rationalbeing; but to place our security in thoughtlessness and blindness, isonly less ignoble than cowardice. I could not forget the proofs ofviolence, which accompanied the death of Mr. Dudley. I could notoverlook, in the recent conversation with Constance, 's allusion to hermurdered father. It was possible that the nature of this death, hadbeen accidentally imparted to him; but it was likewise possible, thathis was the knowledge of one who performed the act.
The enormity of this deed, appeared by no means incongruous with thesentiments of . Human life is momentous or trivial in our eyes,according to the course which our habits and opinions have taken.Passion greedily accepts, and habit readily offers, the sacrifice ofanother's life, and reason obeys the impulse of education anddesire.
A youth of eighteen, a volunteer in a Russian army, encamped inBessarabia, made prey of a Tartar girl, found in the field of a recentbattle: Conducting her to his quarters, he met a friend, who, on somepretence, claimed the victim: From angry words they betook themselvesto swords. A combat ensued, in which the first claimant ran hisantagonist through the body. He then bore his prize unmolested away,and having exercised brutality of one kind, upon the helpless victim,stabbed her to the heart, as an offering to the manes of Sarsefield,the friend whom he had slain. Next morning, willing more signally toexpiate his guilt, he rushed alone upon a troop of Turkish foragers,and brought away five heads, suspended, by their gory locks, to hishorse's mane. These he cast upon the grave of Sarsefield, and conceivedhimself fully to have expiated yesterday's offence. In reward for hisprowess, the General gave him a commission in the Cossack troops. Thisyouth was ; and such is a specimen of his exploits, during a militarycareer of eight years, in a warfare the most savage and implacable,and, at the same time, the most iniquitous and wanton which historyrecords.
With passions and habits like these, the life of another was atrifling sacrifice to vengeance or impatience. How Mr. Dudley hadexcited the resentment of , by what means the assassin had accomplishedhis intention, without awakening alarm or incurring suspicion, it wasnot for me to discover. The inextricability of human events, theimperviousness of cunning, and the obduracy of malice, I had frequentoccasions to remark.
I did not labour to vanquish the security of my friend. As toprecautions they were useless. There was no fortress, guarded bybarriers of stone and iron, and watched by centinels that never slept,to which she might retire from his stratagems. If there were such aretreat, it would scarcely avail her against a foe, circumspect andsubtle as .
I pondered on the condition of my friend. I reviewed the incidentsof her life. I compared her lot with that of others. I could not butdiscover a sort of incurable malignity in her fate. I felt as if itwere denied to her to enjoy a long life or permanent tranquillity. Iasked myself, what she had done, entitling her to this incessantpersecution? Impatience and murmuring took place of sorrow and fear inmy heart. When I reflected, that all human agency was merelysubservient to a divine purpose, I fell into fits of accusation andimpiety.
This injustice was transient, and soberer views convinced me thatevery scheme, comprizing the whole, must be productive of partial andtemporary evil. The sufferings of Constance were limited to a moment;they were the unavoidable appendages of terrestrial existence; theyformed the only avenue to wisdom, and the only claim to uninterruptedfruition, and eternal repose in an after-scene.
The course of my reflections, and the issue to which they led, wereunforeseen by myself. Fondly as I doated upon this woman, methought Icould resign her to the grave without a murmur or a tear. While mythoughts were calmed by resignation, and my fancy occupied with nothingbut the briefness of that space, and evanescence of that time whichsevers the living from the dead, I contemplated, almost withcomplacency, a violent or untimely close to her existence.
This loftiness of mind could not always be accomplished orconstantly maintained. One effect of my fears, was to hasten mydeparture to Europe. There existed no impediment but the want of asuitable conveyance. In the first packet that should leave America, itwas determined to secure a passage. Mr. Melbourne consented to takecharge of Constantia's property, and, after the sale of it, to transmitto her the money that should thence arise.
Meanwhile, I was anxious that Constance should leave her presentabode and join me in New-York. She willingly adopted this arrangement,but conceived it necessary to spend a few days at her house in Jersey.She could reach the latter place without much deviation from thestreight road, and she was desirous of re-surveying a spot where manyof her infantile days had been spent.
This house and domain I have already mentioned to have once belongedto Mr. Dudley. It was selected with the judgment and adorned with thetaste of a disciple of the schools of Florence and Vincenza. In hisview, cultivation was subservient to the picturesque, and a mansion waserected, eminent for nothing but chastity of ornaments, and simplicityof structure. The massive parts were of stone; the outer surfaces weresmooth, snow-white, and diversified by apertures and cornices, in whicha cement uncommonly tenacious was wrought into proportions the mostcorrect and forms the most graceful. The floors, walls and cielings,consisted of a still more exquisitely tempered substance, and werepainted by Mr. Dudley's own hand. All appendages of this building, asseats, tables and cabinets, were modelled by the owner's particulardirection, and in a manner scrupulously classical.
He had scarcely entered on the enjoyment of this splendidpossession, when it was ravished away. No privation was endured withmore impatience than this; but, happily, it was purchased by one wholeft Mr. Dudley's arrangements unmolested, and who shortly afterconveyed it entire to . By him it was finally appropriated to the useof Helena Cleves, and now, by a singular contexture of events, it hadreverted to those hands, in which the death of the original proprietor,if no other change had been made in his condition, would have left it.The farm still remained in the tenure of a German emigrant, who held itpartly on condition of preserving the garden and mansion in safety andin perfect order.
This retreat was now re-visited by Constance, after an interval offour years. Autumn had made some progress, but the aspect of naturewas, so to speak, more significant than at any other season. She wasagreeably accommodated under the tenant's roof, and found a namelesspleasure in traversing spaces, in which every object prompted anendless train of recollections.
Her sensations were not foreseen. They led to a state of mind,inconsistent, in some degree, with the projects adopted in obedience tothe suggestions of her friend. Every thing in this scene had beencreated and modelled by the genius of her father. It was a kind offane, sanctified by his imaginary presence.
To consign the fruits of his industry and invention to foreign andunsparing hands, seemed a kind of sacrilege, for which she almostfeared that the dead would rise to upbraid her. Those images which bindus to our natal soil, to the abode of our innocent and careless youth,were recalled to her fancy by the scenes which she now beheld. Thesewere enforced by considerations of the dangers which attended hervoyage, from storms and from enemies, and from the tendency torevolution and war, which seemed to actuate all the nations of Europe.Her native country was by no means exempt from similar tendencies, butthese evils were less imminent, and its manners and government, intheir present modifications, were unspeakably more favorable to thedignity and improvement of the human race, than those which prevailedin any part of the ancient world.
My solicitations and my obligation to repair to England, overweighedher objections, but her new reflections led her to form newdeterminations with regard to this part of her property. She concludedto retain possession, and hoped that some future event would allow herto return to this favorite spot, without forfeiture of my society. Anabode of some years in Europe, would more eminently qualify her for theenjoyment of retirement and safety in her native country. The time thatshould elapse before her embarkation, she was desirous of passing amongthe shades of this romantic retreat.
I was, by no means, rcconciled to this proceeding. I loved my friendtoo well to endure any needless separation without repining. Inaddition to this, the image of haunted my thoughts, and gave birth toincessant but indefinable fears. I believed that her safety would verylittle depend upon the nature of her abode, or the number orwatchfulness of her companions. My nearness to her person wouldfrustrate no stratagem, nor promote any other end than my ownentanglement in the same fold. Still, that I was not apprized, eachhour, of her condition, that her state was lonely and sequestered, weresources of disquiet, the obvious remedy to which was her coming toNew-York. Preparations for departure were assigned to me, and theserequired my continuance in the city.
Once a week, Laffert, her tenant, visited, for purposes of traffic,the city. He was the medium of our correspondence. To him I entrusted aletter, in which my dissatisfaction at her absence and the causes whichgave it birth, were freely confessed.
The confidence of safety seldom deserted my friend. Since hermysterious conversation with , he had utterly vanished. Previously tothat interview, his visits or his letters were incessant and punctual;but since, no token was given that he existed. Two months had elapsed.He gave her no reason to expect a cessation of intercourse. He hadparted from her with his usual abruptness and informality. She did notconceive it incumbent on her to search him out, but she would not havebeen displeased with an opportunity to discuss with him more fully themotives of her conduct. This opportunity had been hitherto denied.
Her occupations, in her present retreat, were, for the most partdictated by caprice or by chance. The mildness of Autumn permitted herto ramble, during the day, from one rock and one grove to another.There was a luxury in musing, and in the sensations which the sceneryand silence produced, which, in consequence of her long estrangementfrom them, were accompanied with all the attractions of novelty, andfrom which she not consent to withdraw.
In the evening, she usually retired to the mansion, and shut herselfup in that apartment, which, in the original structure of the house,had been designed for study, and no part of whose furniture had beenremoved or displaced. It was a kind of closet on the second floor,illuminated by a spacious window, through which a landscape of uncommonamplitude and beauty was presented to the view. Here the pleasures ofthe day were revived, by recalling and enumerating them in letters toher friend: She always quitted this recess with reluctance, and,seldom, till the night was half-spent.
One evening she retired hither when the sun had just dipped beneaththe horizon. Her implements of writing were prepared, but before thepen was assumed, her eyes rested for a moment on the variegated hues,which were poured out upon the western sky, and upon the scene ofintermingled waters, copses and fields. The view comprized a part ofthe road which led to this dwelling. It was partially and distantlyseen, and the passage of horses or men, was betokened chiefly by thedust which was raised by their footsteps.
A token of this kind now caught her attention. It fixed her eye,chiefly by the picturesque effect produced by interposing its obscuritybetween her and the splendours which the sun had left. Presently, shegained a faint view of a man and horse. This circumstance laid no claimto attention, and she was withdrawing her eye, when the traveller'sstopping and dismounting at the gate, made her renew her scrutiny. Thiswas reinforced by something in the figure and movements of thehorseman, which reminded her of .
She started from her seat with some degree of palpitation. Whencethis arose, whether from fear or from joy, or from intermixed emotions,it would not be easy to ascertain. Having entered the gate, thevisitant, remounting his horse, set the animal on full speed. Everymoment brought him nearer, and added to her first belief. He stoppednot till he reached the mansion. The person of was distinctlyrecognized.
An interview, at this dusky and lonely hour, in circumstances soabrupt and unexpected, could not fail to surpize, and, in some degree,to alarm. The substance of his last conversation was recalled. Theevils which were darkly and ambiguously predicted, thronged to hermemory. It seemed as if the present moment was to be, in some way,decisive of her fate. This visit, she did not hesitate to suppose,designed for her, but somewhat uncommonly momentous, must have promptedhim to take so long a journey.
The rooms on the lower floor were dark, the windows and doors beingfastened. She had entered the house by the principal door, and this wasthe only one, at present, unlocked. The room in which she sat, was overthe hall, and the massive door beneath could not be opened, withoutnoisy signals. The question that occurred to her, by what means wouldgain admittance to her presence, she supposed would be instantlydecided. She listened to hear his footsteps on the pavement, or thecreaking of hinges. The silence, however, continued profound asbefore.
After a minute's pause, she approached the window more nearly, andendeavoured to gain a view of the space before the house. She sawnothing but the horse, whose bridle was thrown over his neck, and whowas left at liberty to pick up what scanty herbage the lawn afforded tohis hunger. The rider had disappeared.
It now occurred to her, that this visit had a purpose different fromthat which she at first conjectured. It was easily conceived, that wasunacquainted with her residence at this spot. The knowledge could onlybe imparted to him, by indirect or illicit means. That these means hadbeen employed by him, she was by no means authorized to infer from thesilence and distance he had lately maintained. But if an interview withher, were not the purpose of his coming, how should she interpretit?
While oocupied with these reflections, the light hastilydisappeared, and darkness, rendered, by a cloudy atmosphere, uncommonlyintense, succeeded. She had the means of lighting a lamp, that hungagainst the wall, but had been too much immersed in thought, to noticethe deepening of the gloom. Recovering from her reverie, she lookedaround her with some degree of trepidation, and prepared to strike aspark, that would enable her to light her lamp.
She had hitherto indulged an habitual indifference to danger. Nowthe presence of , the unknown purpose that led him hither, and thedefencelessness of her condition, inspired her with apprehensions, towhich she had hitherto been a stranger. She had been accustomed to passmany nocturnal hours in this closet. Till now, nothing had occurred,that made her enter it with circumspection, or continue in it withreluctance.
Her sensations were no longer tranquil. Each minute that she spentin this recess, appeared to multiply her hazards. To linger here,appeared to her the height of culpable temerity. She hastily resolvedto return to the farmer's dwelling, and, on the morrow, to repair toNew-York. For this end, she was desirous to produce a light. Thematerials were at hand.
She lifted her hand to strike the flint, when her ear caught asound, which betokened the opening of the door, that led into the nextapartment. Her motion was suspended, and she listened as well as athrobbing heart would permit. That 's was the hand that opened, was thefirst suggestion of her fears. The motives of this unseasonableentrance, could not be reconciled with her safety. He had given nowarning of his approach, and the door was opened with tardiness andseeming caution.
Sounds continued, of which no distinct conception could be obtained,or the cause that produced them assigned. The floors of every apartmentbeing composed, like the walls and ceiling, of cement, footsteps wererendered almost undistinguishable. It was plain, however, that some oneapproached her own door.
The panic and confusion that now invaded her, was owing to surprize,and to the singularity of her situation. The mansion was desolate andlonely. It was night. She was immersed in darkness. She had not themeans, and was unaccustomed to the office, of repelling personalinjuries. What injuries she had reason to dread, who was the agent, andwhat were his motives, were subjects of vague and incoherentmeditation.
Meanwhile, low and imperfect sounds, that had in them more ofinanimate than human, assailed her ear. Presently they ceased. Aninexplicable fear deterred her from calling. Light would have exerciseda friendly influence. This, it was in her power to produce, but notwithout motion and noise, and these, by occasioning the discovery ofher being in the closet, might possibly enhance her danger.
Conceptions like these, were unworthy of the mind of Constance. Aninterval of silence succeeded, interrupted only by the whistling of theblast without. It was sufficient for the restoration of her courage.She blushed at the cowardice which had trembled at a sound. Sheconsidered that might, indeed, be near, but that he was probablyunconscious of her situation. His coming was not with thecircumspection of an enemy. He might be acquainted with the place ofher retreat, and had come to obtain an interview, with no clandestineor myterious purposes. The noises she had heard, had, doubtless,proceeded from the next apartment, but might be produced by someharmless or vagrant creature.
These considerations restored her tranquillity. They enabled her,deliberately, to create a light, but they did not disuade her fromleaving the house. Omens of evil seemed to be connected with thissolitary and dark some abode: Besides, had unquestionably entered uponthis scene. It could not be doubted that she was the object of hisvisit. The farm-house was a place of meeting, more suitable and safethan any other. Thither, therefore, she determined immediately toreturn.
The closet had but one door, and this led into the chamber where thesounds had arisen. Through this chamber, therefore, she was obliged topass, in order to reach the stair-case, which terminated in the hallbelow.
Bearing the light in her left hand, she withdrew the bolt of thedoor, and opened. In spite of courageous efforts, she opened withunwillingness, and shuddered to throw a glance forward or advance astep into the room. This was not needed, to reveal to her the cause ofher late disturbance. Her eye instantly lighted on the body of a man,supine, motionless, stretched on the floor, close to the door throughwhich she was about to pass.
A spectacle like this, was qualified to startle her. She shrunk backand fixed a more steadfast eye, upon the prostrate person. There was nomark of blood or of wounds, but there was something in the attitude,more significant of death than of sleep. His face rested on the floor,and his ragged locks concealed what part of his visage was not hiddenby his posture. His garb was characterized by fashionable elegance, butwas polluted with dust.
The image that first occurred to her, was that of . This instantlygave place to another, which was familiar to her apprehension. It wasat first too indistinctly seen to suggest a name. She continued to gazeand to be lost in fearful astonishment. Was this the person whoseentrance had been overheard, and who had dragged himself hither to dieat her door? Yet, in that case, would not groans and expiring effortshave testified his condition, and invoked her succour? Was he notbrought hither in the arms of his assassin? She mused upon the possiblemotives that induced some one thus to act, and upon the connection thatmight subsist, between her destiny and that of the dead.
Her meditations, however fruitless, in other respects, could notfail to shew her the propriety of hastening from this spot. Toscrutinize the form or face of the dead, was a task, to which hercourage was unequal. Suitably accompanied and guarded, she would notscruple to return and ascertain, by the most sedulous examination, thecauses of this ominous event.
She stept over the breathless corpse, and hurried to the stair-case.It became her to maintain the command of her muscles and joints, and toproceed without faultering or hesitation. Scarcely had she reached theentrance of the hall, when, casting anxious looks forward, she beheldan human figure. No serutiny was requisite to inform her, that this was.
She stopped. He approached her with looks and gestures, placid butsolemn. There was nothing in his countenance rugged or malignant. Onthe contrary, there were tokens of compassion.
So, said he, I expected to meet you. A light, gleaming from thewindow, marked you out. This, and Laffert's directions, have guidedme.
What, said Constance, with discomposure in her accent, was yourmotive for seeking me?
Have you forgotten, said , what past at our last interview? The evilthat I then predicted is at hand. Perhaps, you were incredulous: Youaccounted me a madman or deciever: Now I am come to witness thefulfilment of my words, and the completion of your destiny. To rescueyou, I have not come: That is not within the compass of humanpowers.
Poor Constantia! he continued, in tones that manifseted geuuinesympathy, look upon thyself as lost. The toils that beset thee areinextricable. Summon up thy patience to endure the evil. Now will thelast and heaviest trial betide thy fortitude. I could weep for thee, ifmy manly nature would permit. This is the scene of thy calamity, andthis the hour.
These words were adapted to excite curiosity mingled with terror. 'sdeportment was of an unexampled tenor, as well as that evil which hehad so ambiguously predicted. He offered not protection from danger,and yet gave no proof of being himself an agent or auxiliary. After aminute's pause, Constantia recovering a firm tone, said:
Mr. ! Your recent deportment but ill accords with your professionsof sincerity and plain dealing. What your purpose is, or whether youhave any purpose, I am at a loss to conjecture. Whether you mostdeserve censure or ridicule, is a point which you afford me not themeans of deciding, and to which, unless on your own account, I amindifferent. If you are willing to be more explicit, or if there be anytopic on which you wish further to converse, I will not refuse yourcompany to Laffert's dwelling. Longer to remain here, would beindiscrete and absurd.
So saying, she motioned towards the door. was passive, and seemedindisposed to prevent her departure, till she laid her hand upon thelock. He then, without moving from his place, exclaimed:
Stay. Must this meeting, which fate ordains to be the last, be soshort? Must a time and place so suitable, for what remains to be saidand done, be neglected or misused? No. You charge me with duplicity,and deem my conduct either ridiculous or criminal. I have stated myreasons for concealment, but these have failed to convince you. Well.Here is now an end to doubt. All ambiguities are preparing tovanish.
When began to speak, Constance paused to hearken to him. Hisvehemence was not of that nature, which threatened to obstruct herpassage. It was by intreaty that he apparently endeavoured to detainher steps, and not by violence. Hence arose her patience to listen. Hecontinued:
Constance! thy father is dead. Art thou not desirous of detectingthe authour of his fate? Will it afford thee no consolation to knowthat the deed is punished? Wilt thou suffer me to drag the murderer tothy feet? Thy justice will be gratified by this sacrifice. Somewhatwill be due to him who avenged thy wrong in the blood of theperpetrator? What sayest thou? Grant me thy permission, and, in amoment, I will drag him hither.
These words called up the image of the person, whose corpse she hadlately seen. It was readily conceived that to him alluded, but this wasthe assassin of her father, and his crime had been detected andpunished by Ormond! These images had no other effect than to urge herdeparture: She again applied her hand to the lock, and said:
This scene must not be prolonged. My father's death I desire not tohear explained or to see revenged, but whatever information you arewilling or able to communicate, must be deferred.
Nay, interrupted , with augmented vehemence, art thou equally devoidof curiosity and justice? Thinkest thou, that the enmity which bereftthy father of life, will not seek thy own? There are evils which Icannot prevent thee from enduring, but there are, likewise, ills whichmy counsel will enable thee and thy friend to shun. Save me fromwitnessing thy death. Thy father's destiny is sealed; all that remainedwas to punish his assassin: But thou and thy Sophia still live. Whyshould ye perish by a like stroke?
This intimation was sufficient to arrest the steps of Constance. Shewithdrew her hand from the door, and fixed eyes of the deepest anxietyon ;--What mean you? How am I to understand--
Ah! said , I see thou wilt consent to stay. Thy detention shall notbe long. Remain where thou art during one moment; merely while I draghither thy enemy, and shew thee a visage which thou wilt not be slow torecognize. Saying this, he hastily ascended the staircase, and quicklypassed beyond her sight.
Deportment thus mysterious, could not fail of bewildering herthoughts. There was somewhat in the looks and accents of , differentfrom former appearances: tokens of an hidden purpose and a smotheredmeaning, were perceptible: A mixture of the inoffensive and the lawlesswhich added to the loneliness and silence that encompassed her,produced a faultering emotion. Her curiosity was overpowered by herfear, and the resolution was suddenly conceived, of seizing thisopportunity to escape.
A third time she put her hand to the lock and attempted to open. Theeffort was ineffectual. The door that was accustomed to obey thegentlest touch, was now immoveable. She had lately unlocked and pastthrough it. Her eager inspection convinced her that the principal boltwas still withdrawn, but a smaller one was now perceived, of whoseexistence she had not been apprized, and over which her key had nopower.
Now did she first harbour a fear that was intelligible in itsdictates. Now did she first perceive herself sinking in the toils ofsome lurking enemy. Hope whispered that this foe was not . His conducthad bespoken no willingness to put constraint upon her steps. He talkednot as if he were aware of this obstruction, and yet his seemingacquiescence might have flowed from a knowledge that she had no powerto remove beyond his reach.
He warned her of danger to her life, of which he was herself-appointed rescuer. His counsel was to arm her with sufficientcaution; the peril that awaited her was imminent; this was the time andplace of its occurrence, and here she was compelled to remain, till thepower that fastened, would condescend to loose the door. There wereother avenues to the hall. These were accustomed to be locked, but hadfound access, and if all continued fast, it was incontestable that hewas the authour of this new impediment.
The other avenues were hastily examined. All were bolted and locked.The first impulse led her to call for help from without, but themansion was distant from Laffert's habitation. This spot was whollyunfrequented. No passenger was likely to be stationed where her callcould be heard. Besides, this forcible detention might operate for ashort time, and be attended with no mischievous consequences. Whateverwas to come, it was her duty to collect her courage and encounterit.
The steps of above now gave tokens of his approach. Vigilantobservance of this man was all that her situation permitted. A vehementeffort restored her to some degree of composure. Her stifledpalpitations allowed her steadfastly to notice him, as he now descendedthe stair, bearing a lifeless body in his arms. There, said he, as hecast it at her feet, Whose countenance is that? Who would imagine thatfeatures like those, belonged to an assassin and imposter?
Closed eyelids and fallen muscles, could not hide from herlineaments so often seen. She shrunk back and exclaimed--ThomasCraig!
A pause succeeded, in which she alternately gazed at the countenanceof this unfortunate wretch and at . At length, the latterexclaimed:
Well, my girl; hast thou examined him? Dost thou recognize a friendor an enemy?
I know him well; but how came this? What purpose brought him hither?Who was the authour of his fate?
Have I not already told thee that was his own avenger and thine? Tothee and to me he has been a robber. To him thy father is indebted forthe loss not only of property but life. Did crimes like these merit aless punishment? And what recompense is due to him whose vigilancepursucd him hither, and made him pay for his offences with his blood?What benefit have I recieved at thy hand to authorize me, for thy sake,to take away his life?
No benefit recieved from me, said Constance, would justify such anact. I should have abhored myself for annexing to my benefits, sobloody a condition. It calls for no gratitude or recompense. Itssuitable attendant is remorse. That he is a thief, I know but too well:that my father died by his hands is incredible.--No motives ormeans---
Why so? interrupted . Does not sleep seal up the senses? Cannotclosets be unlocked at midnight? Cannot adjoining houses communicate bydoors? Cannot these doors be hidden from suspicion by a sheet ofcanvass?--
These words were of startling and abundant import. They reminded herof circumstances in her father's chamber, which sufficiently explainedthe means by which his life was assailed. The closet, and itscanvass-covered wall; the adjoining house untenanted and shut up--butthis house, though unoccupied, belonged to ! From the inferences whichflowed hence, her attention was withdrawn by her companion, whocontinued:
Do these means imply the interposal of a miracle? His motives? Whatscruples can be expected from a man innured, from infancy, to cunningand pillage? Will he abstain from murder when urged by excruciatingpoverty, by menaces of persecution: by terror of expiring on thegallows?
Tumultuous suspicions were now awakened in the mind of Constance.Her faultering voice scarcely allowed her to ask: How know you thatCraig was thus guilty; that these were his incitements and means?--
's solemnity now gave place to a tone of sarcasm and looks ofexultation: Poor Constance! Thou art still pestered with incredulityand doubts! My veracity is still in question! My knowledge, girl, isinfallible. That these were his means of access I cannot be ignorant,for I pointed them out. He was urged by these motives, for they werestated and enforced by me. His was the deed, for I stood beside himwhen it was done.
These, indeed, were terms that stood in no need of furtherexplanation. The veil that shrouded this formidable being, was liftedhigh enough to make him be regarded with inexplicable horror. What hisfuture acts should be, how his omens of ill were to be solved, werestill involved in uncertainty.
In the midst of the fears for her own safety, by which Constantiawas now assailed, the image of her father was revived; keen regret andvehement upbraiding were conjured up:
Craig then was the instrument, and your's the instigation thatdestroyed my father! In what had he offended you? What cause had hegiven for resentment?
Cause! replied he, with impetuous accents, Resentment! None. Mymotive was benevolent: My deed conferred a benefit. I gave him sightand took away his life, from motives equally wise. Know you not thatwas fool enough to set value on the affections of a woman? These weresought with preposterous anxiety and endless labour. Among otherfacilitators of his purpose, he summoned gratitude to his aid. Tosnatch you from poverty, to restore his sight to your father, wereexpected to operate as incentives to love.
But here I was the dupe of error. A thousand prejudices stood in myway. These, provided our intercourse were not obstructed, I hoped tosubdue. The rage of innovation seized your father: this, blended with amortal antipathy to me, made him labour to seduce you from the bosom ofyour peaceful country: to make you enter on a boisterous sea; to visitlands where all is havock and hostility. To snatch you from theinfluence of my arguments.
This new obstacle I was bound to remove. While revolving the means,chance and his evil destiny threw Craig in my way. I soon convinced himthat his reputation and his life were in my hands. His retention ofthese depended upon my will; on the performance of conditions which Iprescribed.
My happiness and your's, depended on your concurrence with mywishes. Your father's life was an obstacle to your concurrence. Forkilling him, therefore, I may claim your gratitude. His death was a dueand disinterested offering, at the altar of your felicity and mine.
My deed was not injurious to him. At his age, death, whose coming,at some period, is inevitable, could not be distant. To make itunforeseen and brief, and void of pain; to preclude the torments of alingering malady; a slow and visible descent to the grave; was thedictates of beneficence. But of what value was a continuance of hislife? Either you would have gone with him to Europe, or have staid athome with me. In the first case, his life would have been rapidlyconsumed by perils and cares. In the second, separation from you, andunion with me, a being so detestable, would equally have poisoned hisexistence.
Craig's cowardice and crimes, made him a pliant and commodious tool.I pointed out the way. The unsuspected door, which led into the closetof your father's chamber, was made by my direction, during the life ofHellen. By this avenue I was wont to post myself, where all yourconversations could be overheard. By this avenue, an entrance andretreat were afforded to the agent of my newest purpose.
Fool that I was! I solaced myself with the belief that allimpediments were now smoothed, when a new enemy appeared: My follylasted as long as my hope. I saw that to gain your affections,fortified by antiquated scruples, and obsequious to the guidance ofthis new monitor, was impossible. It is not my way to toil after thatwhich is beyond my reach. If the greater good be inaccessible, I learnto be contented with the less.
I have served you with successless sedulity. I have set an engine inact to obliterate an obstacle to your felicity, and lay your father atrest. Under my guidance, this engine was productive only of good.Governed by itself or by another, it will only work you harm. I have,therefore, hastened to destroy it. Lo! it is now before you motionlessand impotent.
For this complexity of benefit I look for no reward. I am not tiredof well-doing. Having ceased to labour for an unattainable good, I havecome hither to possess myself of all that I now crave, and by the samedeed to afford you an illustrious opportunity to signalize your wisdomand your fortitude.
During this speech, the mind of Constance became more deeplypervaded with dread of some over-hanging but incomprehensible evil. Thestrongest impulse was, to gain a safe asylum, at a distance from thisspot, and from the presence of this extraordinary being. This impulsewas followed by the recollection, that her liberty was taken away: Thategress from the hall was denied her, and that this restriction might bepart of some conspiracy of , against her life.
Security from danger like this, would be, in the first place,sought, by one of Constantia's sex and opinions, in flight. This hadbeen rendered, by some fatal chance, or by the precautions of her foe,impracticable. Stratagem or force was all that remained, to elude ordisarm her adversary. For the contrivance and exeention of frauds, allthe habits of her life and all the maxims of her education, hadconspired to unfit her. Her force of muscles would avail her nothing,against the superior energy of .
She remembered that to inflict death, was no iniquitous exertson ofself-defence, and that the pen-knife which she held in her hand, wascapable of this service. She had used it to remove any lurkingobstruction in the wards of her key, supposing, for a time, this to bethe cause of her failing to withdraw the bolt of the door. Thisresource, was, indeed, scarcely less disastrous and deplorable, thanany fate from which it could rescue her. Some uncertainty stillinvolved the intentions of . As soon as he paused, she spoke:
How am I to understand this prelude? Let me know the full extent ofmy danger; why it is that I am hindered from leaving this house, andwhy this interview was sought.
Ah! Constance! This, indeed, is merely prelude to a scene that is toterminate my influence over thy fate. When this is past, I have swornto part with thee forever. Art thou still dubious of my purpose? Artthou not a woman? And have I not intreated for thy love, and beenrejected?
Canst thou imagine that I aim at thy life? My avowals of love weresincere; my passion was vehement and undisguised. It gave dignity andvalue to a gift in thy power, as a woman, to bestow. This has beendenied. That gift has lost none of its value in my eyes. What thourefusedst to bestow, it is in my power to extort. I came for that end.When this end is accomplished, I will restore thee to liberty.
These words were accompanied by looks, that rendered all explanationof their meaning useless. The evil reserved for her, hitherto obscuredby half-disclosed and contradictory attributes, was now sufficientlyapparent. The truth in this respect unveiled itself with the rapidityand brightness of an electrical flash.
She was silent. She cast her eyes at the windows and doors. Escapethrough them was hopeless. She looked at those lineaments of whichevinced his disdain of supplication and inexorable passions. She feltthat intreaty and argument would be vain. That all appeals to hiscompassion and benevolence would counteract her purpose, since, in theunexampled conformation of this man's mind, these principles were madesubservient to his most flagitious designs. Considerations of justiceand pity were made, by a fatal perverseness of reasoning, champions andbul warks of his most atrocious mistakes.
The last extremes of opposition, the most violent expedients fordefence, would be justified by being indispensable. To find safety forher honor, even in the blood of an assailant, was the prescription ofduty. The equity of this species of defence, was not, in the presentconfusion of her mind, a subject of momentary doubt.
To forewarn him of her desperate purpose, would be to furnish himwith means of counter-action. Her weapon would easily be wrested fromher feeble hand. Ineffectual opposition would only precipitate her evildestiny. A rage, contented with nothing less than her life, might beawakened in his bosom. But was not this to be desired? Death, untimelyand violent, was better than the loss of honor.
This thought led to a new series of reflections. She involuntarilyshrunk from the act of killing, but would her efforts to destroy heradversary, be effectual? Would not his strength and dexterity, easilyrepel or elude them? Her power, in this respect, was questionable, buther power was undeniably sufficient to a different end. The instrument,which could not rescue her from this injury, by the destruction ofanother, might save her from it by her own destruction.
These thoughts rapidly occurred, but the resolution to which theyled, was scarcely formed, when advanced towards her. She recoiled a fewsteps, and, shewing the knife which she held, said:
! Beware! Know that my unalterable resolution is, to die uninjured.I have the means in my power. Stop where you are; one step more, and Iplunge this knife into my heart. I know that to contend with yourstrength or your reason, would be vain. To turn this weapon againstyou, I should not fear, if I were sure of success; but to that I willnot trust. To save a greater good by the sacrifice of life, is in mypower, and that sacrifice shall be made.
Poor Constance! replied , in a tone of contempt: So! thou preferrestthy imaginary honor to life! To escape this injury without a name orsubstance: Without connection with the past or future; withoutcontamination of thy purity or thraldom of thy will; thou wilt killthyself: Put an end to thy activity in virtue's cause: Rob thy friendof her solace: The world of thy beneficence: Thyself of being andpleasure?
I shall be grieved for the fatal issue of my experiment: I shallmourn over thy martyrdom to the most opprobrious and contemptible ofall errors, but that thou shouldst undergo the trial is decreed. Thereis still an interval of hope, that thy cowardice is counterfeited, orthat it will give place to wisdom and courage.
Whatever thou intendest, by way of prevention or cure, it behovesthee to employ with steadfastness. Die with the guilt of suicide andthe brand of cowardice upon thy memory, or live with thy claims tofelicity and approbation undiminished. Chuse which thou wilt. Thydecision is of moment to thyself, but of none to me. Living or dead,the prize that I have in view shall be mine.--
It will be requisite to withdraw your attention from this scene fora moment, and fix it on myself. My impatience of my friend's delay, forsome days preceding this disastrous interview, became continually morepainful. As the time of our departure approached, my dread of somemisfortune or impediment increased. 's disappearance from the scene,contributed but little to my consolation. To wrap his purposes inmystery, to place himself at seeming distance, was the usual artificeof such as he; was necessary to the maturing of his project, and thehopeless entanglement of his victim. I saw no means of placing thesafety of my friend beyond his reach. Between different methods ofprocedure, there was, however, room for choice. Her present abode wasmore hazardous than abode in the city. To be alone, argued a state moredefenceless and perilous, than to be attended by me.
I wrote her an urgent admonition to return. My remonstrances werecouched in such terms, as, in my own opinion, laid her under thenecessity of immediate compliance. The letter was dispatched by theusual messenger, and for some hours I solaced myself with the prospectof a speedy meeting.
These thoughts gave place to doubt and apprehension. I began todistrust the efficacy of my arguments, and to invent a thousandreasons, inducing her, in defiance of my rhetorick, at least toprotract her absence. These reasons, I had not previously conceived,and had not, therefore, attempted, in my letter, to invalidate theirforce. This omission was possible to be supplied in a second epistle,but, meanwhile, time would be lost, and my new arguments, might, likethe old, fail to convince her. At least, the tongue was a much moreversatile and powerful advocate than the pen, and by hastening to herhabitation, I might either compell her to return with me, or ward offdanger by my presence, or share it with her. I finally resolved to joinher, by the speediest conveyance.
This resolution was suggested, by the meditations of a sleeplessnight. I rose with the dawn and sought out the means of transportingmyself, with most celerity, to the abode of my friend. A stage-boat,accustomed, twice a day, to cross New-York bay to Staten-Island, wasprevailed upon, by liberal offers, to set out upon the voyage at thedawn of day. The sky was gloomy, and the air boisterous and unsettled.The wind, suddenly becoming tempestuous and adverse, rendered thevoyage at once tedious and full of peril. A voyage of nine miles wasnot effected in less that eight hours, and without imminent andhair-breadth danger of being drowned.
Fifteen miles of the jonrney remained to be performed by land. Acarriage, with the utmost difficulty, was procured, but lank horses anda crazy vehicle were but little in unison with my impatience. Wereached not Amboy-ferry till some hours after nightfall. I was rowedacross the sound, and proceeded to accomplish the remainder of myjourney, about three miles, on foot.
I was actuated to this speed, by indefinite, but powerful motives.The belief that my speedy arrival was essential to the rescue of myfriend from some inexpiable injury, haunted me with ceaselessimportunity. On no account would I have consented to postpone thisprecipitate expedition till the morrow.
I, at length, arrived at Dudley's farm-house. The inhabitants werestruck with wonder at the sight of me. My cloathes were stained by thewater, by which every passenger was copiously sprinkled, during ourboisterous navigation, and soiled by dust: My frame was almostoverpowered by fatigue and abstinence.
To my anxious enqniries respecting my friend, they told me that herevenings were usually spent at the mansion, where, it was probable, shewas now to be found. They were not apprized of any inconvenience ordanger, that betided her. It was her custom sometimes to prolong herabsence till midnight.
I could not applaud the discretion nor censure the temerity of thisproceeding. My mind was harrassed by unintelligible omens andself-confuted fears. To obviate the danger and to banish myinquietudes, was my first duty. For this end I hastened to the mansion.Having passed the intervening hillocks and copses, I gained a view ofthe front of the building. My heart suddenly sunk, on observing that noapartment, not even that in which I knew it was her custom to sit atthese unseasonable hours, was illuminated. A gleam from the window ofthe study, I should have regarded as an argument, at once, of herpresence and her safety.
I approached the house with misgiving and faultering steps. The gateleading into a spacious court was open. A sound on one side attractedmy attention. In the present state of my thoughts, any near orunexplained sound, sufficed to startle me. Looking towards the quarter,whence my panic was excited, I espied, through the dusk, an horsegrazing, with his bridle thrown over his neck.
This appearance was a new source of perplexity and alarm. Theinference was unavoidable, that a visitant was here. Who that visitantwas, and how he was now employed, was a subject of eager but fruitlesscuriosity. Within and around the mansion, all was buried in the deepestrepose. I now approached the principal door, and looking through thekey-hole, perceived a lamp, standing on the lowest step of thestair-case. It shed a pale light over the lofty cieling and marblebalustrades. No face or movement of an human being was perceptible.
These tokens assured me that some one was within; they alsoaccounted for the non-appearance of light, at the window above. Iwithdrew my eye from this avenue, and was preparing to knock loudly foradmission, when my attention was awakened by some one, who advanced tothe door from the inside, and seemed busily engaged in unlocking. Istarted back and waited with impatience, till the door should open andthe person issue forth.
Presently I heard a voice within, exclaim, in accents of mingledterror and grief--O what---what will become of me? Shall I never bereleased from this detested prison?
The voice was that of Constance. It penetrated to my heart like anice-bolt. I once more darted a glance through the crevice. A figure,with difficulty recognized to be that of my friend, now appeared insight. Her hands were clasped on her breast, her eyes wildly fixed uponthe cieling and streaming with tears, and her hair unbound and fallingconfusedly over her bosom and neck.
My sensations scarcely permitted me to call---Constance! ForHeaven's sake what has happened to you? Open the door I beseechyou.
What voice is that? Sophia Courtland! O my friend! I am imprisoned.Some dæmon has barred the door, beyond my power to unfasten. Ah!Why comest thou so late? Thy succour would have somewhat profited, ifsooner given, but now, the lost Constantia--here her voice sunk intoconvulsive sobs.--
In the midst of my own despair, on perceiving the fulfilment of myapprehensions, and what I regarded as the fatal execution of someproject of , I was not insensible to the suggestions of prudence. Iintreated my friend to retain her courage, while I flew to Laffert's,and returned with suitable assistance to burst open the door.
The people of the farm-house readily obeyed my summons. Accompaniedby three men of powerful sinews, sons and servants of the farmer, Ireturned with the utmost expedition to the mansion. The lamp stillremained in its former place, but our loudest calls were unanswered.The silence was uninterrupted and profound.
The door yielded to strenuous and repeated efforts, and I rushedinto the hall. The first object that met my sight, was my friend,stretched upon the floor, pale and motionless, supine and with all thetokens of death!
From this object my attention was speedily attracted, by twofigures, breathless and supine, like that of Constance. One of them was. A smile of disdain still sat upon his features. The wound, by whichhe fell, was secret, and was scarcely betrayed by the effusion of adrop of blood. The face of the third victim was familiar to my earlydays. It was that of the imposter, whose artifice had torn from Mr.Dudley his peace and fortune.
An explication of this scene was hopeless. By what disastrous andinscrutable fate, a place like this became the scene of suchcomplicated havock, to whom Craig was indebted for his death, what evilhad been meditated or inflicted by , and by what means his project hadarrived at this bloody consummation, were topics of wild and fearfulconjecture.
But my friend--the first impulse of my fears was, to regard her asdead. Hope and a closer observation, outrooted, or at least, suspendedthis opinion. One of the men lifted her in his arms. No trace of bloodor mark of fatal violence was discoverable, and the effusion of coldwater restored her, though slowly, to life.
To withdraw her from this spectacle of death was my first care. Shesuffered herself to be led to the farm-house. She was carried to herchamber. For a time she appeared incapable of recollection. She graspedmy hand, as I sat by her bed-fide, but scarcely gave any other tokensof life.
From this state of inactivity she gradually recovered. I wasactuated by a thousand forebodings, but refrained from molesting her byinterrogation or condolence. I watched by her side in silence, but waseager to collect from her own lips, an account of this mysterioustransaction.
At length she opened her eyes, and appeared to recollect her presentsituation, and the events which led to it. I inquired into hercondition, and asked if there were any thing in my power to procure orperform for her.
O! my friend! she answered, what have I done; what have I sufferedwithin the last dreadful hour? The remembrance, though insupportable,will never leave me. You can do nothing for my relief. All I claim, isyour compassion and your sympathy.
I hope, said I, that nothing has happened to load you with guilt orwith shame.
Alas! I know not. My deed was scarcely the fruit of intention. Itwas suggested by a momentary frenzy. I saw no other means of escapingfrom vileness and pollution. I was menaced with an evil worse thandeath. I forbore till my strength was almost subdued: The lapse ofanother moment would have placed me beyond hope.
My stroke was desperate and at random. It answered my purpose toowell. He cast at me a look of terrible upbraiding, but spoke not. Hisheart was pierced, and he sunk, as if struck by lightning, at my feet.O much-erring and unhappy ! That thou shouldst thus untimely perish!That I should be thy executioner!
These words sufficiently explained the scene that I had witnessed.The violence of had been repulsed by equal violence. His foul attemptshad been prevented by his death. Not to deplore the necessity which hadproduced this act was impossible; but, since this necessity existed, itwas surely not a deed to be thought upon with lasting horror, or to beallowed to generate remorse.
In consequence of this catastrophe, arduous duties had devolved uponme. The people that surrounded me, were powerless with terror, Theirignorance and cowardice left them at a loss how to act in thisemergency. They besought my direction, and willingly performed whateverI thought proper to enjoin upon them.
No deliberation was necessary to acquaint me with my duty. Laffertwas dispatched to the nearest magistrate with a letter, in which hisimmediate presence was intreated, and these transactions were brieflyexplained. Early the next day the formalities of justice, in theinspection of the bodies and the examination of witnesses, wereexecuted. It would be needless to dwell on the particulars of thiscatastrophe. A sufficient explanation has been given of the causes thatled to it. They were such as exempted my friend from legalanimadversion. Her act was prompted by motives which every scheme ofjurisprudence known in the world not only exculpates but applauds. Tostate these motives, before a tribunal hastily formed, and exercisingits functions on the spot, was a task not to be avoided, thoughinfinitely painful. Remonstrances, the most urgent and pathetic, couldscarcely conquer her reluctance.
This task, however, was easy, in comparison with that whichremained. To restore health and equanimity to my friend; to repel theerroneous accusations of her conscience; to hinder her from musing,with eternal anguish, upon this catastrophe; to lay the spirit ofsecret upbraiding by which she was incessantly tormented; which berefther of repose; empoisoned all her enjoyments, and menaced, not only,the subversion of her peace, but the speedy destruction of her life,became my next employment.
My counsels and remonstrances were not wholly inefficacious. Theyafforded me the prospect of her ultimate restoration to tranquillity.Meanwhile, I called to my aid, the influence of time and of a change ofscene. I hastened to embark with her for Europe. Our voyage wastempestuous and dangerous, but storms and perils at length gave way tosecurity and repose.
Before our voyage was commenced, I endeavoured to procure tidings ofthe true condition and designs of . My information extended no further,than that he had put his American property into the hands of Mr.Melbourne, and was preparing to embark for France. Courtland, who hassince been at Paris, and who, while there, became confidentiallyacquainted with Martinette de Beauvais, has communicated facts of anunexpected nature.
At the period of 's return to Philadelphia, at which his lastinterview with Constance, in that city, took place, he visitedMartinette. He avowed himself to be her brother, and supported hispretentions, by relating the incidents of his early life. A separation,at the age of fifteen, and which had lasted for the same number ofyears, may be supposed to have considerably changed the countenance andfigure she had formerly known. His relationship was chiefly proved, bythe enumeration of incidents, of which her brother only could beapprized.
He possessed a minute acquaintance with her own adventures, butconcealed from her the means by which he had procured the knowledge. Hehad rarely and imperfectly alluded to his own opinions and projects,and had maintained an invariable silence, on the subject of hisconnection with Constance and Hellen. Being informed of her intentionto return to France, he readily complied with her request to accompanyher in this voyage. His intentions in this respect, were frustrated bythe dreadful catastrophe that has been just related. Respecting thisevent, Martinette had collected only vague and perplexing information.Courtland, though able to remove her doubts, thought proper towith-hold from her the knowledge he possessed.
Since her arrival in England, the life of my friend has experiencedlittle variation. Of her personal deportment and domestic habits, youhave been a witness. These, therefore, it would be needless for me toexhibit. It is sufficient to have related events, which the recentnessof your intercourse with her hindered you from knowing, but by means ofsome formal narrative like the present. She and her friend only wereable to impart to you the knowledge which you have so anxiously sought.In consideration of your merits and of your attachment to my friend, Ihave consented to devote my leisure to this task.
It is now finished, and, I have only to add my wishes, that theperusal of this tale may afford you as much instruction, as thecontemplation of the sufferings and vicissitudes of Constantia Dudleyhas afforded to me. Farewell.
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