Secresy; or, Ruin on the Rock

LETTER X

FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN TO ARTHUR MURDEN

Yes, rash and inconsiderate young man, I do accept your confidence, your offered friendship; but remember I cannot profess myself the friend of any one, to gloss over follies or vices. A friend, not blindly partial, but active to amend you, is the friend you must at once receive or at once reject in me.

I have heard myself called pedantic, inflexible, opinionated; I have been told, by some gentler people, that I am severe, misjudging, giving to those little foibles almost inseparable from human nature the name of vice, and this may be true; for you call yourself a foolish man – I call you vicious. – Nay start not, Murden; but lay your hand on your heart, and tell me, if you have well employed your time and talents? If you have done service to human kind, or if you have not in fraud and secresy bubbled away your happiness? and if it is the part of a virtuous man to sigh with black misanthropy in solitude a few passive years, and then lie down in the grave unblessing and unblessed?

Yet I do pity you, for I have neither a hard nor a cold heart, nor a heart that dare receive a sensation it will not for your example dare to acknowledge. – Yes, I confess I have loved you! yet, because I could not possess myself of the strong holds in your heart, shall I sink down and die? – No! no! – I bade the vague hope begone. – I refused to be the worst of slaves, the slave of self; and now, my friend, more worthy than ever of your friendship, I am ready to do any thing in your behalf that reason can approve.

That service is to gain Sibella for you. Again you retreat. – Your false delicacy and false refinement fly to guard you with their sevenfold shield from the attack. – But hear me, Murden: – I would not unite you as you are to the Sibella Valmont whom you have loved with all the fervour the most impassioned language can describe, the erring Sibella while she sees neither spot nor stain in him with whom she has pledged herself in union: – No! I would first subdue the fermentation of your senses, teach you to esteem Sibella's worth, pity her errors, and love her with infinite sincerity, but not so as to absorb your active virtues, to transform you from a man into a baby. – You are but two beings in the great brotherhood of mankind, and what right have you to separate your benevolence from your fellow-creatures and make a world between you, when you cannot separate your wants also? – You must be dependent for your blessings on the great mass of mankind, as they in part also depend on you. – When you can thus love, I would unite you to Sibella, who in turn shall be roused from the present mistaken zeal of her affections. Her soul will renounce the union her mistakes have formed, when she knows Clement as unworthy of her as he really is. From a struggle perhaps worse than death, she will rise dignified into superior happiness: – Claim you as her friend, her monitor, her guide; and devote her life, her love to your virtues!

O yes, I know it well! – your imagination teems with the rhapsodies of passion! – I hear your high-wrought declamation, the dictates of a fevered fancy. I do pity you, Murden, from my soul; and if I did not believe you able to overcome all the misery you deplore I should not pity you at all.

I can scarcely picture to myself a life more negative, less energetic, notwithstanding your fervor, than that you would have led with Sibella had fortune placed you in the situation Clement stood with her. Do not let your burning brain consume you at the supposition; for, highly gifted as you both are, mind cannot always feel in that extreme: – the tight drawn wire must either snap or slacken. – Too happy, banished in rapture, age would have come upon you without preparation for its arrival, without proper nourishment for its abode. In vain you then turn to each other for consolation. – The spell that guarded you from every intruding care is broken: and you have lessons, wearisome tasks to learn, which would only have been pleasant relaxations intermixed with the abounding delights of youth.

You are both at present the victims of erroneous educations, but your artificial refinements being so admirably checked in their growth, now I know not two people upon earth so calculated, so fitted for each other as Murden and Sibella. – My resolution envigorates with the prospect! – Be ye but what ye may, and the first vaunted pair of paradise were not more happy! I perceive not only the value of the work I undertake, but the labour also; nor am I deterred by the firmness wherewith you hold your resolutions, not by the tedious scarcely perceptible degrees with which I must sap the foundation of Sibella's error. – Ah, Murden, I suspect, had she possessed equal advantages with yourself, she would have soared far beyond what you are as yet!

By her last letter, I find she discovers a deficiency in Clement's conduct which she struggles to hide from her own penetration. – He is my best auxiliary. I once thought him only a negative character, drawn this way or that by a thread. Now, I see he has an incessant restlessness after pomp and pleasure which nothing can subdue, and to which every thing must yield: Sibella in her turn – indeed, half her hold at least is gone already. – If he speaks of her now to me, she is not as before – his adored – an angel – superior to every thing in heaven or on earth – but one lady has an eye almost as intelligent as Sibella's – another, a bloom of complexion scarcely less exquisite – and a third, in form in graces moves a counterpart goddess! – As you say, there is a vehemency and energy in his expressions, that, in the general apprehension, cloathe him with attributes which never did and never can belong to him. It is but very rarely that I partake of his effusions, for I am not to his taste. My mother is his confidante; and she is quite fascinated with the descriptions of his love. When he was first introduced to us, I thought it necessary, for a reason you perhaps divine, to mention the mutual attachment subsisting between Clement and Sibella. – Mrs. Ashburn declared she would take his constancy under her protection: yes, she would guard him from folly and temptation.

Alas, Murden, I am sick of the scenes that surround me! formerly, we were moderate and retired to what we are now. Our house is the palace of luxury. Every varying effort of novelty is exerted to fill the vacant mind with pleasure. Useless are my remonstrances. Eastern magnificence and eastern voluptuousness here hold their court, and my mother, borrowing from her splendor every other pretension to charm, plunges deeper and deeper in the vortex of vanity. Fain would I leave it all, but I dare not proscribe my little power of doing good. – Come then, my friends, you who have already taken your station in my heart! – Murden and Sibella – live for each other – live that I may sometimes quit the drudgery of dissipation to participate of happiness with you!

If it really was Mr. Valmont's design (which I very much doubt) to give Clement up to a profession, nothing could be more unfortunate than his introduction here – where, with his natural inclination to do the same, he sees wealth lavished without check or restraint. So highly does he stand in my mother's opinion for taste, and so animated are his bursts of applause, that no overstrained variety is received or rejected without his sanction. – To be the confidante of a heart is a novelty with Mrs. Ashburn, who has had little concern in affairs of the heart; and perhaps to preserve him from sacrificing in her presence to the vanity of others may be her motive for encouraging him to speak of his passion for Sibella. – I have watched him narrowly; and, if he has any lurking wishes here, I am persuaded they fix on Mademoiselle Laundy.

I believe you never saw this companion of Mrs. Ashburn. She, or I greatly mistake, has of all persons I know most command over herself.

I had almost forgotten to tell you that Clement read me a few concluding lines of your last letter to him. What a decided melancholy have you displayed therein! – No, my dear friend, you must not, shall not die. – Clement was considerably affected by the representation of your feelings; yet he said you had used him ill in the foregoing part, and he believed he should never write to you again. – I find he has no suspicions of you; and I leave you to tell him at your own time, and in your own way.

Still I say nothing of Sibella's present distress, you cry. I have had no information of it, except from yourself. I have written again to Sibella, and look for an answer daily with respect to her fortune, I think it probable that she should be her father's heir; but of that we can judge better when we hear what her uncle says to the charge. Alas, I know Mr. Valmont is vindictive, proud, and impatient of contradiction. – She resolute, daring to do aught she dare approve. – He might strike her. – As to suicide, I know her better: it would be as remote from her thoughts, under any suffering, as light from darkness. Oh, Murden, she is indeed a glorious girl! Mr. Valmont promised me an unrestrained correspondence with Sibella; and, while he is satisfied in the exercise of his own power over her person, he will as usual suffer her to communicate to me the crowd of welcome and unwelcome strangers passing to and fro in her mind.

I need scarcely assure you that, whatever intelligence I receive, you shall share the communication. – Remain at Barlowe Hall; for, though your uncle is very desirous that you should come to London, I am certain, in your present frame of mind, you would find yourself still more removed from ease in the society which Sir Thomas would provide for you than in solitude. – I should be sorry to depend for my happiness on that heart which could invite pleasure and gaiety to quell those griefs it could not banish by reason and reflection. Nor have I, Murden, so supreme an idea of your prudence, as not to foresee the birth of a new folly, should Montgomery and you meet each other.

Farewel! and may the blessing you bestowed on me rest also with yourself.

LETTER XI

FROM LORD FILMAR TO JANETTA LAUNDY

In apartments opposite to Sir Walter Boyer's, there lives an Adonis. – A Paris, rather, to whose wishes Venus sends a beauteous Helen. Janetta, thou understandest me. – A chair – Twilight – . As tradition tells us that the famed city was burned, and the famed family is I suppose extinct, I want to know from what Troy this Paris came, and what Priam was his father.

LETTER XII

ANSWER

My Lord,

Janetta does not understand you, and yet in another sense she understands you but too well. Once I thought you all tenderness, and generosity, but now you can both neglect and insult one whose love of you was her undoing. I neither know Sir Walter Boyer, nor any one who lives opposite to him, nor can in the least imagine what you would insinuate by twilight and a chair. If your recollection of former fondness does not incline you to treat me with more respect, at least her sad change of situation might preserve from your contempt, the unfortunate

LETTER XIII

FROM LORD FILMAR TO JANETTA LAUNDY

Undone! no charmer! Carry that face to the looking-glass, and ask if any thing but age or small-pox could undo thee! If thy mirror does not say enough to thy satisfaction, consult Montgomery. – Ha! have I caught thee? It was no stroke of Machiavelian policy amidst all thy profundity of practice, that the lodging opposite Sir Walter Boyer's should be so suddenly vacated.

But child, I do hold all my former fondness in my mind's eye; and thou art very ungrateful to refuse one little favour to him who has bestowed on thee so many. Can I more evince my respect of thy situation than by refraining to interrupt its harmony by my presence? What but respect, thinkest thou, made me order the horses back to the stable, when I had them ready harnessed to come and throw myself at thy feet for the little boon of information thou hast refused my letter.

I applaud Helen's taste. The Paris of old was a Jew pedlar to the present Paris of – street. Grace was in all her steps. Need I ask information of my eyes when my throbbing heart could tell me? – Oh yes, I should know my Helen's mien from a thousand.

I tell you, his name's Montgomery. Now you must tell me, if 'tis Montgomery of Valmont castle. If it is, you are directly to introduce me to him. – Remember, Janetta, in this I am serious; – remember also I am —an old acquaintance– now I hope you understand me.

LETTER XIV

FROM JANETTA LAUNDY TO LORD FILMAR

My Lord,

I did suppose, on the receipt of your first letter, that you alluded to my calling one evening on Mr. Montgomery; and had I not been withheld by the unwillingness I felt to disclose the secrets of another person I should certainly then have acknowledged that I paid a visit to Mr. Montgomery. But, my Lord, you compel me notwithstanding my extreme reluctance to make this confession; at the same time I must, to prevent your surmises injurious to myself, own to you that I called on Mr. Montgomery the evening you named by the order of Mrs. Ashburn whose very particular friend he is. The commission, my Lord, respected some business of a private nature; therefore you will perceive how necessary it is that you should keep secret your knowledge of this transaction. There is scarce any thing which Mrs. Ashburn would not sooner pardon in me than this breach of confidence.

With respect to my introducing you, my Lord, to Mr. Montgomery, a moment's consideration will convince you of its impropriety. In the unhappy and dependent situation which the misfortunes heaped upon my family have compelled me to seek, it is not the least of its afflicting circumstances that I am obliged to shape all my actions to the will or opinions of those by whom I am surrounded. That I should so suddenly claim an intimacy with a person of Lord Filmar's youth, graces, and accomplishments might appear suspicious to Mrs. Ashburn; beside, my Lord, how do you suppose I am to conduct myself in your presence? for, although you may have forgotten the time when you could not approach me without trembling, I can neither cease to remember nor cease to feel.

It is not possible for me to divine why you should insist so vehemently on my bringing you acquainted with Mr. Montgomery; nor is it easy to decline any request however hazardous the grant, when it is urged by one who has such claims, although now neglected, as you have, my Lord, on me. I have studied in what way, with any probability of safety to myself, I can gratify your wish; and find no other than your renewing your acquaintance with the Dutchess de N – , who is also at this time in London. Mr. Montgomery visits there frequently.

I think, my Lord, I need hardly remind you of the caution you ought to use, if by any accident it appears that we are acquainted. Mr. Montgomery was in Paris a short time after you left it. He was, like you, intimate with my father; but he did not, gain the devoted heart of the daughter. To wound my reputation now would be barbarity. Were you by any hint or jest to create a surmise in the breast of Mr. Montgomery, it would instantly be conveyed by him to Mrs. Ashburn; and my ruin would be certain. I intreat you will think of this with attention; and you would be well convinced of the attention it demands, could you know how scrupulously observant Mrs. Ashburn is of my conduct.

LETTER XV

FROM LORD FILMAR TO JANETTA LAUNDY

Female friendship still so constant! What, if French folks did surmise and say strange things of Janetta Laundy and the Duke de N – , the Dutchess well understands the value of a certain old proverb, Keep my secret and I'll keep your's. Amiable pair! Fear me not, Janetta. Filmar will not breathe a whisper that shall disturb thy peace; for he perfectly understands that Montgomery was in Paris after him.

Last night I supped with the Dutchess; Montgomery was there.

No wonder Mrs. Ashburn is observant of your conduct, Janetta; for she glared upon us last night in the fullness of her blaze, and I perceived in half an hour or less that she is tremblingly alive to every species of decorum. Whenever this scrupulous lady again chooses to send her pretty ambassadress on private business to Montgomery, he will still I doubt not continue to receive her with all the respect due to her commission.

Do not be angry, Janetta, but encourage the dimpling smile that so well becomes you. Montgomery dines with me; and I am, with him, to have the felicity of basking in the sunshine of bright eyes at Mrs. Ashburn's route this evening.

LETTER XVI

FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN TO ARTHUR MURDEN

How strange an animal is man! How prone to fall into habits, and how difficult it is to prescribe bounds to the growth of absurdity! I did not imagine Mr. Valmont would extend his absurdities so much on the sudden, nor do I know how far you will be inclined to follow his example, when I tell you that Sibella is so really a prisoner even my letters are denied access to her.

Yesterday I was honoured with a packet from Mr. Valmont containing my two last letters to Sibella, one written in answer to her's previous to the receipt of your's and the other written in consequence of the information you gave me of her confinement. Mr. Valmont, in his way, treats me with unusual respect; and I can only account for it, by supposing he was pleased with the freedom I used when at Valmont castle in speaking to him of his very improper seclusion of Sibella. My letters were returned unopened; and with them the following

Madam,

As long as my niece deserved the indulgence of your correspondence I, though against the principle upon which I formed her education continued to allow it. I herewith return your last letters. I would not open them, because I believe you to be incapable of abetting Sibella in the atrocity of her conduct, but I shall hold myself justified therein if you send any more letters after you receive this interdiction.

Truly sorry am I to say that Miss Valmont proves herself unworthy of the long illustrious line from whom she claims her name, and of whom she is almost the only surviving descendant. Unfortunate that house whose dignity is left to be supported by a female! Whether in solitude or society, I find the female mind still a mere compound of folly and mischief: greatly do I now regret I ever undertook its guardianship.

Mr. Valmont scorns to flatter. Would you have been so candid with respect to the female mind? though once, perhaps, you enrolled yourself among those who endeavour strictly to check the growth of every seed therein except mischief and folly. My patience exhausts itself when I see men of even tolerable talents aiding to sink lower than the brute in value the fairest of God's creatures. – A horse! – Oh, a laborious horse deserves to be canonized in preference to the woman whose sole industry consists in the active destruction of her understanding, who smiles, moves, and speaks, as it were only to prove herself unlike every production of wisdom and nature.

The principle which moves this mischief is the error males and females partake concerning softness. – Bid them form a woman of an enlightened understanding, and with the learning of a scholar they never fail to associate the manners of a porter. – Talk of one, who scorns to sink in apprehensions, who would rather protect herself than sacrifice herself, who can stand unpropped in the creation, they expect a giant in step and a monster in form. – If reason and coarseness were thus inseparable, it were better to take both than to abandon both. But it is the reverse. Wherever coarseness exists with talent, it is because the talent is contracted; let it expand, and the dignified grace and softness of active virtue takes its place. – More of this hereafter. I wish rather to reason than declaim; and I have, at present, a heat of feeling that effectually precludes investigation, for the ebulitions of resentment.

Doubtless you have already exclaimed against my seeming unconcern for Sibella's situation. – You, who cannot detach yourself a moment from the concerns of your heart, can you forgive such a lapse in another. Of what avail, in our present darkness, to canvass it for an age? I must do something more. To-morrow morning, I set out for Valmont castle; and if at my desire you keep your station, you may depend on the speediest information from, Your sincere friend

LETTER XVII

FROM LORD FILMAR TO SIR WALTER BOYER

A pleasant journey be thine, Walter; but if this sudden trip be meant to evade the consequences of my wrath it was unnecessary. Truly I forgave you on the spot, in consequence of the very ridiculous situation you were in, turning with beseeching looks to me for pardon and stammering contradiction after contradiction to Montgomery, which served only to confirm the suspicions in his mind your foolish audible whisper had occasioned.

How guarded have I always been when Montgomery spoke of the Valmonts; and little did I suppose, though I knew your talent, when I urged him to show you the picture you could forget your caution. Your shrug, your leer, your whisper struck Montgomery dumb; and to my explanation he appeared no less deaf. Yesterday he did not keep his appointment with me. – We accidentally met in the evening (where it had been better we had neither been) but he was distant and embarrassed.

Scarcely had Griffiths begun the honours of my head this morning, than Montgomery was announced and condescended to amuse himself with Rosetta and Ponto in the drawing-room till the business of my sitting was at an end.

'Oh! by heaven,' he cried, as I entered the room, 'you would at this moment be irresistible! – Health, vigour, proportion, and the face of an Apollo! Luckless be ever the youth who shall presume to rival you' – I'll give you ten guineas for Rosetta, Filmar. Will you sell her?'

'No, I will not, Montgomery; though you seem so well to understand our mutual value.'

He drew from his pocket the very miniature in the shagreen case: your stumbling-block, Walter.

'Do me the honour, Filmar, to accept this from me.'

'Miss Valmont's picture! – and of your painting! – You are delirious, Montgomery!'

'Faith, not I! – never more rational in my life, as this very action evinces. Exquisitely divinely charming as she is, who would stand a competition against your person, rank, and happy influence with Mr. Valmont.'

'Influence with Mr. Valmont!'

'Inimitable!' cried he. – 'You overwhelm me with your perfections this morning. How natural that start? nor do you forget the grace of the attitude, I perceive. It is too late, Filmar. Be candid. We will not quarrel; for, as you have so much the start of me in her uncle's approbation, I must resign with a good grace. Can I do more than even yield to my rival that resemblance of her enchanting face? All I ask in return is to oblige me in kind offices with Mr. Valmont. – 'Tis a curst strange business to be sure, but, on my soul, Mr. Valmont sent me to town to study! – I have no time to spare, as yet. – Mum! you know, as to my employments. – I shall reform ere long.'

'Send you to London to study! – Ha! ha! ha!'

'Yes by heaven he did! – To this emporium of delight! – A strange being!'

'And so are you; for, Montgomery, if I understand your meaning concerning Mr. and Miss Valmont, may I – .'

'S'death, my Lord, Sir Walter's strange speech and your confusion kept me awake two hours! Upon my soul, you have seen her! I know you have; and I am sure Mr. Valmont wouldn't suffer any man in the kingdom to look at her, except the one whom he designs for her husband. Everything corroborates the fact. You told me the Earl knew Mr. Valmont; but did you ever hint, in the most remote way, that you had been in the castle, till Sir Walter's question obliged you to have recourse to that portrait in the drawing room, to excuse the implication? – Ah, Filmar! – A divinity is destined for your arms, whilst I must sigh in secret over the remembrance of past hopes!'