Le faux bien qu'elle prÍche est plus dangereux que le mal mÍme, en
ce qu'il sÈduit par une apparence de raison, en ce qu'il fait
prÈfÈrer l'usage et les maximes du monde, ‡ l'exacte probitÈ, en ce
qu'il fait consister la sagesse dans un certain milieu entre le
vice et la vertu[2].
JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU, A M. D'ALEMBERT.
[Footnote 2: The false propriety which she preaches is more dangerous
than vice itself, inasmuch as it seduces by an appearance of
reason--inasmuch as it recommends the usages and the maxims of the world
in preference to strict integrity--inasmuch as it makes wisdom appear to
be a certain medium between vice and virtue.]
Selina was not less attentive to Lady Eltondale's various lessons on
propriety and elegance, than she had been to the instructions of
Mademoiselle Omphalie. And though Lady Hammersley's satirical
predictions were not yet fulfilled, as to any alteration that had taken
place in her mind; yet it was evident, before she had been many weeks at
Eltondale, that her general deportment was considerably changed since
she had been under the superintendence of the Viscountess. Perhaps no
woman ever more thoroughly understood the rules of politeness than did
Lady Eltondale; and though a pupil formed entirely in her school would
scarcely have failed to acquire, ultimately, that freezing apathy which
was one of her own most distinguishing characteristics, yet the
refinement of her manners was by no means an unfortunate counterpoise to
the natural vivacity of Selina's. If it could have been possible to
unite the polished exterior of the one with the unsophisticated mind of
the other, it would have formed as perfect a whole, as if the rich and
exuberant fancy of a Titian had been harmonized by the chastely correct
judgment of a Michael Angelo.
Lady Eltondale had been right in believing, that Mr. Hammersley would
not venture to admire the superior charms of Miss Seymour, till they had
become current by receiving the die of fashion; and, as he found but
little pleasure in the comparatively quiet society at Eltondale, he
pleaded an indispensable engagement, and set off for town a few days
after Selina's arrival. Nor did Sir Robert and Lady Hammersley protract
their stay much longer. Early in January they returned to Bath, and
their places at Eltondale were almost immediately filled by other
visitors; for Lady Eltondale could never bear to be alone; and though on
account of her brother's recent death she forbore giving any very public
entertainments, or receiving the most dissipated of her acquaintances,
yet a constant succession of parties filled up to her, in some degree,
the charm of a winter's seclusion; and the gay and fashionable manners
of several of her guests served to introduce Selina to those frivolous
amusements, which are generally the outposts to more reprehensible
pursuits.
Selina's deep mourning had at first served as an excuse for her
declining to partake of the gayer engagements the neighbourhood of
Eltondale occasionally afforded. For, notwithstanding the avidity with
which she entered into the pleasures by which she was surrounded, she
was still sufficiently unlearned in the ways of the world to believe,
that, at least where the memory of a parent was concerned, it was not
altogether decorous
"To bear about the mockery of woe
"To midnight dances and the publick show;"
and having at first received Mrs. Galton's approbation of her
forbearance, she resisted in that one instance all Lady Eltondale's
arguments and entreaties.--Happy would it have been for her, if she
could always have resorted to the counsel of such a friend as Mrs.
Galton. Lady Eltondale felt mortified by the unexpected resistance to
her wishes, in a point she deemed so trifling; but, however, she
compromised the matter with Selina, by prevailing upon her to change her
sable dress at the end of three months, and to give up her mourning
entirely at the end of six, which term would arrive before their going
to London. She at the same time secretly resolved to interrupt, as much
as possible, Selina's correspondence with Mrs. Galton, foreseeing it
might, in other instances, equally frustrate her intentions and
designs:--not that she could exactly define, even to herself, why she
was so solicitous not only to supplant Mrs. Galton in Miss Seymour's
affection, but also to change even the very character of her niece. She
looked upon the engagement between her and Mr. Elton almost as
irrevocable; and it was indeed a matter of comparative indifference to
her, what was the true character of the woman she was so anxious to make
his wife. But the real motive of the Viscountess' conduct, of which she
herself was scarcely conscious, was a jealousy of Mrs. Galton's
influence over Selina's mind, and an envious hatred produced by the
consciousness of her own inferiority to her rival in her niece's
affection; and she was perfectly aware that she could by no means so
essentially mortify the woman she hated, or lessen the influence she so
much dreaded, as by undermining the principles and changing the
character Mrs. Galton had taken so much pains and pride in forming.
One morning Lady Eltondale entered the breakfast-room before Selina had
returned from her usual early ramble; and as she carelessly tossed over
the letters, which were left on the table to be claimed by their owners,
her eye rested on one directed to Miss Seymour, in a hand-writing with
which she was unacquainted. She had understood from Selina, that she had
no correspondent but Mrs. Galton; and her curiosity was not a little
roused by perceiving the seal bore the impression of the well-known
Mordaunt arms. While she still held the letter in her hand, Selina
entered the room;--the Viscountess feeling a momentary embarrassment in
being detected so closely examining a letter directed to another,
hastily concealed it, resolving to replace it next day. But in error,
_ce n'est que le premier pas qui co˚te_. No person that voluntarily
treads on the threshold of vice, can be certain that they will always
have it in their power to retrace their steps. Lady Eltondale would
probably have shuddered at the idea of deliberately intercepting a
letter, and still more of clandestinely perusing it; yet having thus
unpremeditatedly possessed herself of the one in question, she could not
resist the further temptation of satisfying herself as to the nature of
its contents, and accordingly opened it as soon as she found herself
alone. It proved to be, as she suspected, a letter from Augustus. In
truth, the expression of Selina's countenance, the last evening they had
spent together, had never faded from his "mind's eye." With all the
tenacity of a lover's memory, he called to remembrance every look, every
word that seemed to flatter his fond wishes; and then, with all the
subtlety of a lover's rhetoric, he persuaded himself that no duty he
owed to the memory of Sir Henry forbad his endeavouring at least to
retain whatever share of Selina's good opinion he already possessed;
though he was still determined so far to respect the expressed wish of
the Baronet, as not to precipitate a declaration of his own attachment,
till Selina had an opportunity of fully understanding her own heart, and
making her selection between him and Mr. Elton. Thus compromising
between his passion and his principles, he addressed Selina in the
character of trustee to her estate, and profiting by the excuse which
that situation afforded him, conjured Selina to point out in what way he
could be of most use; expressing his anxiety to be of service to her, in
the warmest terms that passion under the mask of friendship could
suggest.
Had this letter then reached Selina, it would have spared her many hours
of future sorrow. But Lady Eltondale determined it should not do so. Her
penetration too soon discovered its real import;--she perceived
"Love's secret flame
Lurk'd under friendship's sacred name:"
and, with her usual sophistry, persuading herself that the end
sanctified the means, she congratulated herself on the steps she had
taken, and believed her laudable anxiety for the welfare of her step-son
justified her treacherous conduct to her orphan niece. She was not long
in deciding on the best measures to prevent a continuation of a
correspondence so dangerous to her favourite scheme; and enclosing the
letter back to Mordaunt, wrote the following note in the envelope:
"LADY ELTONDALE presents her compliments to Mr. Mordaunt, and her
best thanks for his polite offers of service, which, however, she
begs to decline as Mr. Elton is expected to return to England
immediately, who will of course superintend himself the management
of all Miss Seymour's estates. Lady Eltondale returns Mr.
Mordaunt's letter, as perhaps he may, at a future time, wish to
refer to it on the subject of Wilson's farm, upon which Miss
Seymour, in her present delicate situation, feels no wish either to
correspond or decide."
It would be impossible to describe the mortification and disappointment
this laconic epistle occasioned Augustus. He felt justly indignant at
the manner in which his proffered kindness had been rejected; and
considered the insult in no slight degree aggravated by the circumstance
of Selina permitting a third person to convey her own unfeeling reply.
In one moment the bright vision of hope and joy, that had flitted before
him, dissolved in air; and, from the delighted contemplation of all her
charms, he sunk in an instant into the opposite extreme, and equally
exaggerated all her failings. He recalled to mind Mr. Temple's
observations, which now seemed absolutely prophetic; and, passing
rapidly from one passion to another, upbraided her not only with the
foibles she really possessed, but even with those errors that were as
yet but anticipated. By degrees, however, the storm subsided. He so
often repeated to himself that she was now perfectly indifferent to him,
that he flattered himself it was really the case; and he determined
thenceforward only to consider her as the wife of Mr. Elton, believing
that appellation would act as a talisman, to prevent a return of a
passion he had now persuaded himself was perfectly hopeless.
While Augustus, in his retirement at Oxford, was thus endeavouring to
extinguish feelings that were only a source of regret; and while Mrs.
Galton was consoling herself as much as possible for her separation from
her beloved child, by renewing old friendships, and forming new
acquaintances at Bath, Selina was, by degrees, becoming more
familiarized with the levity, duplicity, and frivolity, which were daily
exemplified in the manners of Lady Eltondale and her different visitors.
At length the time approached for their removal to London: an early day
in April was fixed for their journey, which Selina anticipated with all
the delight of a young vivacious girl, that at last found herself on the
confines of a new world of pleasure, the enjoyments of which were yet
untasted, and its sorrows unsuspected.
When the moment of their departure actually came, she gave way to
unmixed feelings of joy. She laughed, sung, and frolicked round the
room like a sportive child, and yet she could scarcely define her own
emotions. She was hardly conscious that her pleasure, in a great degree,
arose from the silently cherished hope of seeing Augustus. She had felt
surprised, and even hurt, at his not having, as she supposed, made any
inquiry after her, during her four months' stay at Eltondale. But she
had always felt an unaccountable unwillingness to mention his name to
Lady Eltondale; nor did she even to herself confess how much the
expectation of seeing him once more contributed to the pleasure she
anticipated from her visit to London.
The future was now opened to her view like an extended horizon, shining
in all the luxury of light, which, while the intervening masses of the
ground lay concealed, depicted no object in its natural colours, but
touching here and there some prominent beauty with its most resplendent
rays, confounded all the rest in one undistinguishable mass of
brilliancy. As they were stepping into the carriage, a letter from Mr.
Elton was delivered to Lord Eltondale. Little did Selina imagine she had
any reason to be interested in the packet his Lordship so anxiously
perused; and even had she been aware of the mention made in it of
herself, it would scarcely have had power to withdraw her thoughts from
the nearer, and therefore with her more powerful attraction.
TO THE VISCOUNT ELTONDALE.
Paris, April 3.
I beg you will, my dear father, accept my best thanks for your last
kind letter, though I must remark, that your affectionate
solicitude for my happiness makes you over anxious to promote it. I
confess I was more surprised than pleased to find, that, without in
the least consulting my inclinations, you had entered into an
engagement to contract Miss Seymour to me! Pardon me, my Lord; but
had you and Sir Henry Seymour been employed in assisting each other
to match your carriage horses instead of your children, less
ceremony could scarcely have been used. You dilate much on Miss
Seymour's beauty and fortune:--I am no cynic; yet, strange to say,
the one is nearly as indifferent to me as the other. However if I
find, on becoming acquainted with the _character_ of the young lady
in question, I can esteem and love her, I shall not object to her
beauty or her riches, but shall duly appreciate the honour she
would confer on me in making me her husband. But till I can judge
for myself, I feel I have a right to demand, that neither you nor
_Lady Eltondale_ will do aught to compromise my honour in this
affair. In a word, these are not times to risk the well-being of
one so young and lovely, by a match of mere convenience: unless I
can feel for the "_innocent charming_" Selina, Lady Eltondale so
eloquently describes, all the attachment she merits, I will never
have the cruelty to unite myself to her. Her orphan state
sanctifies her in my eyes. Had she a father or brother to watch
over her welfare, I might, perhaps, be less scrupulous; for, as it
regards myself, it is a matter of perfect indifference to me whom I
marry now--my hopes are frustrated, my spirits depressed, and I
feel it a mere mockery to mention happiness and marriage together.
Perhaps some ten years hence, when "I have forgot myself to stone,"
I may sacrifice the remnant of my joyless existence to family
interests.
"As all my prospects of felicity in private life are blasted, I
turn with more avidity to that course of public usefulness, which
alone can now afford me satisfaction. Every thing has been
sacrificed to it.
"I wish to obtain your consent to my remaining some time longer in
this capital, to continue a course of inquiry I have entered into
on points of great political importance, and to profit by the
acquaintance of some public characters, who may aid me in my
pursuits. I am grieved at what you tell me about the mortgage on
Eltondale. Would my joining you in a bond be of any use?--If so,
command me."
As the rest of Mr. Elton's letter was on law business, it could be of no
interest except to the person to whom it was addressed.