which was to put the long-destined victim into the power of her
insidious betrayer. Fortune, which had hitherto favoured Lady D--, now
deserted her--in a short time, her adversary reimbursed himself, and won
considerably besides. Adversity only rendered her more desperate. She
hazarded still larger stakes; every throw, however, was against her; and
no otherwise could it be, since his dice were loaded, and which he had
the dexterity to change unobserved by her. He lent her money, only to
win it back from her; in short, in a few hours, she found herself
stripped of all the cash she had in possession, and two thousand five
hundred pounds in debt. The disapprobation which her husband had
expressed towards dice-playing, and her total inability to discharge
this vast demand without his knowledge, contributed to make her distress
very great. She freely informed Lord L. she must be his debtor for some
time--as she could not think of acquainting Lord D. with her imprudence.
He offered to accept of part of her jewels, till it should be convenient
to her to pay the whole--or, if she liked it better, to play it off. To
the first, she said, she could not consent, as her husband would miss
them--and to the last she would by no means agree, since she suffered
too much already in her own mind from the imprudent part she had acted,
by risking so much more than she ought to have done. He then,
approaching her, took her hand in his; and, assuming the utmost
tenderness in his air, proceeded to inform her, it was in her power
amply to repay the debt, without the knowledge of her husband--and
confer the highest obligations upon himself. She earnestly begged an
explanation--since there was nothing she would not submit to, rather
than incur the censure of so excellent a husband. Without further
preface, Lord L. threw himself on his knees before her--and said, "if
her heart could not suggest the restitution, which the most ardent of
lovers might expect and hope for--he must take the liberty of informing
her, that bestowing on him the delightful privilege of an husband was
the only means of securing her from the resentment of one." At first,
she seemed thunder-struck, and unable to articulate a sentence. When she
recovered the use of speech, she asked him what he had seen in her
conduct, to induce him to believe she would not submit to any ill
consequences which might arise from the just resentment of her husband,
rather than not shew her detestation of such an infamous proposal.
"Leave me," added she; "leave me," in perfect astonishment at such
insolence of behaviour. He immediately rose, with a very different
aspect--and holding a paper in his hand, to which she had signed her
name in acknowledgment of the debt--"Then, Madam," said he, with the
utmost _sang-froid_--"I shall, to-morrow morning, take the liberty of
waiting on Lord D. with this." "Stay, my Lord, is it possible you can be
so cruel and hard a creditor?--I consent to make over to you my annual
allowance, till the whole is discharged." "No, Madam," cried he, shaking
his head,--"I cannot consent to any such subterfuges, when you have it
in your power to pay this moment." "Would to heaven I had!" answered
she.--"Oh, that you have, most abundantly!" said he.--"Consider the
hours we have been _tête à tête_ together; few people will believe we
have spent all the time at play. Your reputation then will suffer; and,
believe me while I attest heaven to witness, either you must discharge
the debt by blessing me with the possession of your charms, or Lord D.
shall be made acquainted with every circumstance. Reflect," continued
he, "two thousand five hundred pounds is no small sum, either for your
husband to pay, or me to receive.--Come, Madam, it grows late.--In a
little time, you will not have it in your power to avail yourself of the
alternative. Your husband will soon return and then you may wish in vain
that you had yielded to my love, rather than have subjected yourself to
my resentment." She condescended to beg of him, on her knees, for a
longer time for consideration; but he was inexorable, and at last she
fatally consented to her own undoing. The next moment, the horror of her
situation, and the sacrifice she had made, rushed on her tortured
imagination. "Give me the fatal paper," cried she, wringing her hands in
the utmost agony, "give me that paper, for which I have parted with my
peace for ever, and leave me. Oh! never let me in future behold
you.--What do I say? Ah! rather let my eyes close in everlasting
darkness;--they are now unworthy to behold the face of Heaven!" "And do
you really imagine, Madam, (all-beautiful as you are) the lifeless
half-distracted body, you gave to my arms, a recompence for
five-and-twenty hundred pounds?--Have you agreed to your bargain? Is it
with tears, sighs, and reluctant struggles, you meet your husband's
caresses? Be mine as you are his, and the bond is void--otherwise, I am
not such a spendthrift as to throw away thousands for little less than a
rape."
"Oh! thou most hateful and perfidious of all monsters! too dearly have I
earned my release--Do not then, do not with-hold my right."
"Hush, Madam, hush," cried he with the most provoking coolness, "your
raving will but expose you to the ridicule of your domestics. You are at
present under too great an agitation of spirits to attend to the calm
dictates of reason. I will wait till your ladyship is in a more even
temper. When I receive your commands, I will attend them, and hope the
time will soon arrive when you will be better disposed to listen to a
tender lover who adores you, rather than to seek to irritate a man who
has you in his power." Saying which, he broke from her, leaving her in a
state of mind, of which you, Madam, I sincerely hope, will never be able
to form the slightest idea. With what a weight of woe she stole up into
her bed-chamber, unable to bear the eye of her domestic! How fallen in
her own esteem, and still bending under the penalty of her bond, as
neither prayers nor tears (and nothing else was she able to offer) could
obtain the release from the inexorable and cruel Lord L.
How was her anguish increased, when she heard the sound of her Lord's
footstep! How did she pray for instant death! To prevent any
conversation, she feigned sleep--sleep, which now was banished from her
eye-lids. Guilt had driven the idea of rest from her bosom. The morning
brought no comfort on its wings--to her the light was painful. She still
continued in bed. She framed the resolution of writing to the destroyer
of her repose. She rose for that purpose; her letter was couched in
terms that would have pierced the bosom of the most obdurate savage. All
the favour she intreated was, to spare the best of husbands, and the
most amiable and beloved of men, the anguish of knowing how horrid a
return she had made, in one fatal moment, for the years of felicity she
had tasted with him: again offered her alimony, or even her jewels, to
obtain the return of her bond. She did not wish for life. Death was now
her only hope;--but she could not support the idea of her husband's
being acquainted with her infamy. What advantage could he (Lord L.)
propose to himself from the possession of her person, since tears,
sighs, and the same reluctance, would still accompany every repetition
of her crime--as her heart, guilty as it now was, and unworthy as she
had rendered herself of his love, was, and ever must be, her husband's
only. In short, she urged every thing likely to soften him in her
favour. But this fatal and circumstantial disclosure of her guilt and
misfortunes was destined to be conveyed by another messenger than she
designed. Lord D--, having that evening expected some one to call on
him, on his return enquired, "if any one had been there." He was
answered, "Only Lord L." "Did he stay?" "Yes, till after
eleven."--Without thinking of any particularity in this, he went up to
bed. He discovered his wife was not asleep--to pretend to be so, alarmed
him. He heard her frequently sigh; and, when she thought him sunk in
that peaceful slumber she had forfeited, her distress increased. His
anxiety, however, at length gave way to fatigue; but with the morning
his doubts and fears returned; yet, how far from guessing the true
cause! He saw a letter delivered to a servant with some caution, whom he
followed, and insisted on knowing for whom it was intended. The servant,
ignorant of the contents, and not at all suspicious he was doing an
improper thing, gave it up to his Lordship. Revenge lent him wings, and
he flew to the base destroyer of his conjugal happiness.--You may
suppose what followed.--In an hour Lord D. was brought home a lifeless
corpse. Distraction seized the unhappy wife; and the infamous cause of
this dreadful calamity fled his country. He was too hardened, however,
in guilt, to feel much remorse from this catastrophe, and made no
scruple of relating the circumstances of it.
To you, Madam, I surely need make no comment. Nor do I need say any more
to deter you from so pernicious a practice as gaming. Suspect a Lord L.
in every one who would induce you to play; and remember they are the
worst seducers, and the most destructive enemies, who seek to gain your
heart by ruining your principles.
Adieu, Madam! Your ever-watchful angel will still hover over you. And
may that God, who formed both you and me, enable me to give you good
counsel, and dispose your heart to follow it!
Your faithful SYLPH."
Lady STANLEY in Continuation
Alas, my Louisa! what would become of your Julia without this
respectable monitor? Would to heaven I knew who he was! or, how I might
consult him upon some particular circumstances! I examine the features
of my guests in hopes to discover my secret friend; but my senses are
perplexed and bewildered in the fruitless search. It is certainly a
weakness; but, absolutely, my anxiety to obtain this knowledge has an
effect on my health and spirits; my thoughts and whole attention rest
solely on this subject. I call it a weakness, because I ought to remain
satisfied with the advantages which accrue to me from this
correspondence, without being inquisitively curious who it may be; yet I
wish to ask some questions. I am uneasy, and perhaps in some instances
my Sylph would solve my doubts; not that I think him endued with a
preternatural knowledge; yet I hardly know what to think neither.
However, I bless and praise the goodness of God, that has raised me up
a friend in a place where I may turn my eyes around and see myself
deprived of every other.
Even my protector--he who has sworn before God and man;--but you,
Louisa, will reprehend my indiscreet expressions. In my own bosom, then,
shall the sad repository be. Adieu!
JULIA STANLEY.
LETTER XXI.
TO Miss GRENVILLE.
As you have entertained an idea that Sir William could not be proof
against any occasional exertion of my eloquence, I will give you a
sketch of a matrimonial _tête à tête_, though it may tend to subvert
your opinion of both parties.
Yesterday morning I was sitting in my dressing-room, when Sir William,
who had not been at home all night, entered it: He looked as if he had
not been in bed; his hair disordered; and, upon the whole, as forlorn a
figure as you ever beheld, I was going to say; but you can form very
little idea of these rakes of fashion after a night spent as they
usually spend it. To my inquiry after his health, he made a very slight
or rather peevish answer; and flung himself into a chair, with both
hands in his waistcoat pockets, and his eyes fixed on the fire, before
which he had placed himself. As he seemed in an ill-humour, and I was
unconscious of having given him cause, I was regardless of the
consequences, and pursued my employment, which was looking over and
settling some accounts relative to my own expences. He continued his
posture in the strictest silence for near a quarter of an hour; a
silence I did not feel within myself the least inclination to break
through: at last he burst forth into this pretty soliloquy.
"Damn it; sure there never was a more unfortunate dog than I am! Every
thing goes against me. And then to be so situated too!" Unpromising as
the opening sounded, I thought it would be better to bear a part in the
conversation.--"If it is not impertinent, Sir William," said I, "may I
beg to know what occasions the distress you seem to express? or at
least inform me if it is in my power to be of service to you."--"No, no,
you can be of no use to me--though," continued he, "you are in part the
cause."--"I the cause!--for God's sake, how?" cried I, all astonishment.
"Why, if your father had not taken advantage of my cursed infatuation
for you, I should not have been distressed in pecuniary matters by
making so large a settlement."
"A cursed infatuation! do you call it? Sure, that is a harsh expression!
Oh! how wretched would my poor father feel, could he imagine the
affection which he fancied his unhappy daughter had inspired you with,
would be stiled by yourself, and to _her_ face, _a cursed infatuation_!"
Think you, Louisa, I was not pained to the soul? Too sure I was--I could
not prevent tears from gushing forth. Sir William saw the effect his
cruel speech had on me; he started from his seat, and took my hand in
his. A little resentment, and a thousand other reasons, urged me to
withdraw it from his touch.--"Give me your hand, Julia," cried he,
drawing his chair close to mine, and looking at my averted face--"give
me your hand, my dear, and pardon the rashness of my expressions; I did
not mean to use such words;--I recall them, my love: it was ungenerous
and false in me to arraign your father's conduct. I would have doubled
and trebled the settlement, to have gained you; I would, by heavens! my
Julia.--Do not run from me in disgust; come, come, you shall forgive me
a thoughtless expression, uttered in haste, but seriously repented of."
"You cannot deny your sentiments, Sir William; nor can I easily forget
them. What my settlement is, as I never wished to out-live you, so I
never wished to know how ample it was. Large I might suppose it to be,
from the conviction that you never pay any regard to consequences to
obtain your desires, let them be what they will. I was the whim of the
day; and if you have paid too dearly for the trifling gratification, I
am sorry for it; heartily sorry for it, indeed, Sir William. You found
me in the lap of innocence, and in the arms of an indulgent parent;
happy, peaceful, and serene; would to heaven you had left me there!" I
could not proceed; my tears prevented my utterance. "Pshaw!" cried Sir
William, clapping his fingers together, and throwing his elbow over the
chair, which turned his face nearer me, "how ridiculous this is! Why,
Julia, I am deceived in you; I did not think you had so much resentment
in your composition. You ought to make some allowance for the
_derangement_ of my affairs. My hands are tied by making a larger
settlement than my present fortune would admit; and I cannot raise money
on my estate, because I have no child, and it is entailed on my uncle,
who is the greatest curmudgeon alive. Reflect on all these obstacles to
my release from some present exigencies; and do not be so hard-hearted
and inexorable to the prayers and intreaties of your husband."--During
the latter part of this speech, he put his arm round my waist, and drew
me almost on his knees, striving by a thousand little caresses to make
me pardon and smile on him; but, Louisa, caresses, which I now know came
not from the heart, lose the usual effect on me; yet I would not be, as
he said, inexorable. I therefore told him, I would no longer think of
any thing he would wish me to forget.--With the utmost appearance of
tenderness he took my handkerchief, and dried my eyes; laying his cheek
close to mine, and pressing my hands with warmth,--in short, acting over
the same farce as (once) induced me to believe I had created the most
permanent flame in his bosom. I could not bear the reflection that he
should suffer from his former attachment to me; and I had hopes that my
generosity might rouze him from his lethargy, and save him from the ruin
which was likely to involve him. I told him, "I would with the greatest
chearfulness relinquish any part of my settlement, if by that means he
could be extricated from his present and future difficulties."--"Why, to
be sure, a part of it would set me to rights as to the present; but as
for the future, I cannot look into futurity, Julia."--"I wish you could,
Sir William, and reflect in time."--"Reflect! Oh, that is so _outré_! I
hate reflection. Reflection cost poor D--r his life the other day; he,
like me, could not bear reflection."
"I tremble to hear you thus lightly speak of that horrid event. The more
so, as I too much fear the same fatal predilection has occasioned your
distress: but may the chearfulness with which I resign my future
dependence awaken in you a sense of your present situation, and secure
you from fresh difficulties!"
"Well said, my little _monitress_! why you are quite an _orator_ too.
But you shall find I can follow your lead, and be _just_ at least, if
not so generous as yourself. I would not for the world accept the whole
of your jointure. I do not want it; and if I had as much as I could
raise on it, perhaps I might not be much richer for it. _Riches make to
themselves wings, and fly away_, Julia. There is a sentence for you. Did
you think your rattle-pated husband had ever read the book of books from
whence that sentence is drawn?" I really had little patience to hear him
run on in this ludicrous and trifling manner. What an argument of his
insensibility! To stop him, I told him, I thought we had better not lose
time, but have the writings prepared, which would enable me to do my
duty as an obedient wife, and enable him to pay his debts like a man of
honour and integrity; and then he need not fear his treasure flying
away, since it would be laid up where neither thieves could break
through, or rust destroy.
The writings are preparing, to dispose of an estate which was settled on
me; it brings in at present five hundred a year; which I find is but a
quarter of my jointure. Ah! would to heaven he would take all, provided
it would make a change in his sentiments! But that I despair of, without
the interposition of a miracle. You never saw such an alteration as an
hour made on him. So alert and brisk! and apishly fond! I mean
affectedly so; for, Louisa, a man of Sir William's cast never could love
sincerely,--never could experience that genuine sentimental passion,
"Which, selfish joy disdaining, seeks alone
To bless the dearer object of its soul."
No, his passions are turbulent--the madness of the moment--eager to
please himself--regardless of the satisfaction of the object.--And yet I
thought he loved--I likewise thought I loved. Oh! Louisa! how was I
deceived! But I check my pen. Pardon me, and, if possible, excuse your
sister.
JULIA STANLEY.
LETTER XXII.
TO Colonel MONTAGUE.
What are we to make of this divine and destructive beauty? this Lady
Stanley? Did you not observe with what eager avidity she became a votary
to the gaming-table, and bragged away with the best of us? You must: you
was witness to the glow of animation that reigned despotic over every
lovely feature when she had got a pair-royal of braggers in her snowy
fingers. But I am confoundedly bit! She condescended to borrow of that
pattern of Germanic virtue, Baron Ton-hausen. Perhaps you will say, why
did not you endeavour to be the Little Premium? No, I thought I played a
better game: It was better to be the second lender; besides, I only
wanted to excite in her a passion for play; and, or I am much deceived,
never woman entered into it with more zeal. But what a turn to our
affairs! I am absolutely cast off the scent; totally ignorant of the
doubles she has made. I could hardly close my eyes, from the pleasing
expectations I had formed of gratifying the wishes of my heart in both
those interesting passions of love and revenge. Palpitating with hopes
and fears, I descended from my chariot at the appointed hour. The party
were assembled, and my devoted victim looked as beautiful as an angel of
light; her countenance wore a solemnity, which added to her charms by
giving an irresistible and persuasive softness to her features. I
scrutinized the lineaments of her lovely face; and, I assure you, she
lost nothing by the strict examination. Gods! what a transporting
creature she is! And what an insensible brute is Stanley! But I recall
my words, as to the last:--he was distractedly in love with her before
he had her; and perhaps, if she was _my_ wife, I should be as
indifferent about her as _he_ is, or as _I_ am about the numberless
women of all ranks and conditions with whom I have "trifled away the
dull hours."--While I was in contemplation anticipating future joys, I
was struck all of a heap, as the country-girls say, by hearing Lady
Stanley say,--"It is in vain--I have made a firm resolution never to
play again; my resolution is the result of my own reflections on the
uneasiness which those bits of painted paper have already given me. It
is altogether fruitless to urge me; for from the determination I have
made, I shall never recede. My former winnings are in the
sweepstake-pool at the _commerce-table_, which you will extremely oblige
me to sit down to; but for me, I play no more.--I shall have a pleasure
in seeing you play; but I own I feel myself too much discomposed with
ill fortune; and I am not unreasonable enough to be pleased with the
misfortunes of others. I have armed my mind against the shafts of
ridicule, that I see pointed at me; but, while I leave others the full
liberty of following their own schemes of diversion, I dare say, none
will refuse me the same privilege."--We all stared with astonishment;
but the devil a one offered to say a word, except against sitting down
to divide her property;--there we entered into a general protest; so we
set down, at least I can answer for myself, to an insipid game.--Lady
Stanley was marked down as a fine _pigeon_ by some of our ladies, and as
a delicious _morçeau_ by the men. The gentle Baron seemed all aghast. I
fancy he is a little disappointed in his expectations too.--Perhaps he
has formed hopes that his soft sighs and respectful behaviour may have
touched the lovely Julia's heart. He felt himself flattered, no doubt,
at her giving him the preference in borrowing from his purse. Well then,
his hopes are _derangé_, as well as mine.--But, _courage, mi Lor_, I
shall play another game now; and peradventure, as safe a one, if not
more so, than what I planned before.--I will not, however, anticipate a
pleasure (which needs no addition should I succeed) or add to my
mortification should I fail, by expatiating on it at present.
Adieu! dear Montague! Excuse my _boring_ you with these trifles;--for to
a man in love, every thing is trifling except the _trifle_ that
possesses his heart; and to one who is not under the guidance of the
_soft deity, that_ is the _greatest_ trifle (to use a Hibernicism) of
all.
I am your's most cordially,
BIDDULPH.
LETTER XXIII.
To Miss GRENVILLE.
Well, my dear Louisa, the important point I related the particulars of
in my last is quite settled, and Sir William has been able to satisfy
some rapacious creditors. Would to heaven I could tell you, the butcher,
baker, &c. were in the list! No, my sister; the creditors are a vile set
of gamblers, or, in the language of the _polite_ world--_Black-legs_.
Thus is the purpose of my heart entirely frustrated, and the laudably
industrious tradesman defrauded of his due. But how long will they
remain satisfied with being repeatedly put by with empty promises, which
are never kept? Good God! how is this to end? I give myself up to the
most gloomy reflections, and see no point of time when we shall be
extricated from the cruel dilemmas in which Sir William's imprudence has
involved us. I vainly fancied, I should gain some advantages, at least
raise myself in his opinion, from my generosity; but I find, on the
contrary, he only laughs at me for being such a simpleton, to suppose
the sale of five hundred a-year would set him to rights. It is plain, I
have got no credit by my condescension, for he has not spent one day at
home since; and his temper, when I do see him, seems more uncertain than
ever.--Oh! Louisa! and do all young women give up their families, their
hand, and virgin-affections, to be thus recompensed? But why do I let
fall these expressions? Alas! they fall with my tears; and I can no more
suppress the one than the other; I ought, however, and indeed do
endeavour against both. I seek to arm my soul to support the evils with
which I see myself surrounded. I beseech heaven to afford me strength,
for I too plainly see I am deprived of all other resources. I forget to
caution you, my dear sister, against acquainting my father, that I have
given up part of my jointure; and lest, when I am unburthening the
weight of my over-charged bosom to you, I should in future omit this
cautionary reserve, do you, my Louisa, keep those little passages a
secret within your own kind sympathizing breast; and add not to my
affliction, by planting such daggers in the heart of my dear--more dear
than ever--parent. You know I have pledged my honour to you, I will
never, by my own conduct, accumulate the distresses this fatal union has
brought on me. Though every vow on his part is broken through, yet I
will remember I am _his_ wife,--and, what is more, _your_ sister. Would
you believe it? he--Sir William I mean--is quite displeased that I have
given up cards, and very politely told me, I should be looked on as a
fool by all his acquaintance,--and himself not much better, for marrying
such an ignorant uninstructed rustic. To this tender and husband-like
speech, I returned no other answer, than that "my conscience should be
the rule and guide of my actions; and _that_, I was certain, would never
lead me to disgrace him." I left the room, as I found some difficulty in
stifling the resentment which rose at his indignant treatment. But I
shall grow callous in time; I have so far conquered my weakness, as
never to let a tear drop in his presence. Those indications of
self-sorrow have no effect on him, unless, indeed, he had any point to
gain by it; and then he would feign a tenderness foreign to his nature,
but which might induct the ignorant uninstructed fool to yield up every
thing to him.
Perhaps he knows it not; but I might have instructors enough;--but he
has taught me sufficient of evil--thank God! to make me despise them
all. From my unhappy connexions with one, I learn to hate and detest the
whole race of rakes; I might add, of both sexes. I tremble to think what
I might have been, had I not been blessed with a virtuous education, and
had the best of patterns in my beloved sister. Thus I was early
initiated in virtue; and let me be grateful to my kind _Sylph_, whose
knowledge of human nature has enabled him to be so serviceable to me: he
is a sort of second conscience to me:--What would the Sylph say? I
whisper to myself. Would he approve? I flatter myself, that,
insignificant as I am, I am yet the care of heaven; and while I depend
on that merciful Providence and its vicegerents, I shall not fall into
those dreadful pits that are open on every side: but, to strengthen my
reliances, let me have the prayers of my dear Louisa; for every support
is necessary for her faithful Julia.
LETTER XXIV.
TO THE SAME.
I have repeatedly mentioned to my Louisa, how earnestly I wished to have
more frequent communications with my Sylph. A thought struck me the
other day, of the practicability of effecting such a scheme. I knew I
was safe from detection, as no one on earth, yourself excepted, knew of
his agency in my affairs. I therefore addressed an advertisement to my
invisible friend, which I sent to the St. James's Chronicle, couched in
this concise manner.
TO THE SYLPH
"Grateful for the friendly admonition, the receiver of the Sylph's
favour is desirous of having the power of expressing _it_ more largely
than is possible through this channel. If still intitled to protection,
begs to be informed, how a private letter may reach his hand."
I have not leisure nor inclination to make a long digression, or would
tell you, the St. James's is a news-paper which is the fashionable
vehicle of intelligence; and from the circumstance alone of its
admission into all families, and meeting all eyes, I chose it to convey
my wishes to the Sylph. The next evening I had the satisfaction of
finding those wishes answered; and the further pleasure (as you will see
by the enclosed copy) of being assured of his approbation of the step I
have taken.