servant," cried I, rising as if to go.
"Biddulph, my dear Biddulph," cried he, catching my hand, and grasping
it with dying energy, "what are you about to do? You surely will not
leave me in this damned exigency? Think of my situation! I have parted
with every means of raising more money, and eternal infamy will be the
consequence of this last cursed subterfuge of mine transpiring. Oh, my
God! how sunk am I! And will you not hold out your friendly arm?"
"I have already offered you proposals," I replied with an affected
coldness, "which you do not think proper to accede to."
"Would you consign me to everlasting perdition?"
"Will you make no sacrifice to extricate yourself?"
"Yes; my life."
"What, at Tyburn?"
"Dam--n on the thought! oh! Biddulph, Biddulph, are there no other
means? Reflect--the honour of my injured wife!" "Will not _that_ suffer
by your undergoing an ignominious death?"
"Ah! why do you thus stretch my heart-strings? Julia is virtuous, and
deserves a better fate than she has met with in me. What a wretch must
that man be, who will consign his wife to infamy! No; sunk, lost, and
ruined as I am, I cannot yield to such baseness; I should be doubly
damned."
"You know your own conscience best, and how much it will bear; I did not
use to think you so scrupulous; what I offer is as much for your
advantage as my own; nay, faith, for your advantage solely, as I may
have a very good chance of succeeding with her bye and bye, when you can
reap no benefit from it. All I ask of you is, your permission to give
you an opportunity of suing for a divorce. Lay your damages as high as
you please, I will agree to any thing; and, as an earnest, will raise
this sum which distresses you so much; I am not tied down as you are; I
can mortgage any part of my estate. What do you say? Will you sign a
paper, making over all right and title to your wife in my favour? There
is no time to be lost, I can assure you. Your uncle Stanley's lawyer has
been with Brudenel; you know what hopes you have from that quarter; for
the sooner you are out of the way, the better for the next heir."
You never saw a poor devil so distressed and agitated as Stanley was; he
shook like one under a fit of the tertian-ague. I used every argument I
could muster up, and conjured all the horrible ideas which were likely
to terrify a man of his cast; threatened, soothed, sneered: in short, I
at last gained my point, and he signed a commission for his own
cuckoldom; which that I may be able to achieve soon, dear Venus grant! I
took him with me to consult with our broker about raising the money. In
the evening I intend my visit to the lovely Julia. Oh! that I may be
endued with sufficient eloquence to soften her gentle heart, heart, and
tune it to the sweetest notes of love! But she is virtuous, as Stanley
says; that she is most truly: yet who knows how far resentment against
her brutal husband may induce her to go? If ever woman had provocation,
she certainly has. O that she may be inclined to revenge herself on him
for his baseness to her! and that I may be the happy instrument of
effecting it!
"Gods! what a thought is there!"
Adieu!
BIDDULPH.
LETTER XLVI.
To Miss GRENVILLE.
Oh! my Louisa, what will now become of your wretched sister? Surely the
wide world contains not so forlorn a wretch, who has not been guilty of
any crime! But let me not keep you in suspence. In the afternoon of the
day I wrote last (I told you Miss Finch was ill)--Oh! good God! I know
not what I write. I thought I would go and see her for an hour or two. I
ordered the coach, and was just stepping into it, when an ill-looking
man (Lord bless me! I have seen none else lately) laid hold of my arm,
saying, "Madam, you must not go into that carriage."
"What do you mean?" I asked with a voice of terror, thinking he was a
madman.
"Nothing, my lady," he answered, "but an execution on Sir William."
"An execution! Oh, heavens! what execution?" I was breathless, and just
fainting.
"They are bailiffs, my lady," said one of our servants: "my master is
arrested for debt, and these men will seize every thing in the house;
but you need not be terrified, your ladyship is safe, they cannot touch
you."
I ran back into the house with the utmost precipitation; all the
servants seemed in commotion. I saw Preston; she was running up-stairs
with a bundle in her hand. "Preston," said I, "what are you about?" "Oh!
the bailiffs, the bailiffs, my lady!"
"They won't hurt you; I want you here."
"I can't come, indeed, my lady till I have disposed of these things; I
must throw them out of the window, or the bailiffs will seize them."
I could not get a servant near me but my faithful Win, who hung weeping
round me; as for myself, I was too much agitated to shed a tear, or
appear sensible of my misfortune.
Two of these horrid men came into the room. I demanded what they wanted.
To see that none of the goods were carried out of the house, they
answered. I asked them, if they knew where Sir William Stanley was. "Oh!
he is safe enough," said one of them; "we can't touch him; he pleads
privilege, as being a member of parliament; we can only take care of his
furniture for him."
"And am I not allowed the same privilege? If so, how have you dared to
detain me?"
"Detain you! why I hope your ladyship will not say as how we have
offered to detain you? You may go where you please, provided you take
nothing away with you."
"My lady was going out," said Win, sobbing, "and you would not suffer
it."
"Not in that coach, mistress, to be sure; but don't go for to say we
stopped your lady. She may go when she will."
"Will one of you order me a chair or hackney coach? I have no business
here." The last word melted me; and I sunk into a chair, giving way to a
copious flood of tears. At that instant almost the detestable Biddulph
entered the room. I started up--"Whence this intrusion, my lord?" I
asked with a haughty tone. "Are you come to join your _insults_ with the
misfortunes you have in great measure effected?"
"I take heaven to witness," answered he, "how much I was shocked to find
an extent in your house; I had not the least idea of such a circumstance
happening. I, indeed, knew that Sir William was very much straitened for
money."
"Accursed be those," interrupted I, "ever accursed be those whose
pernicious counsels and baleful examples have brought him into these
exigencies. I look on you, my lord, as one cruel cause of the ruin of
our house."
"Rather, Lady Stanley, call me the prop of your sinking house. View, in
me, one who would die to render you service."
"Would to heaven you had done so long--long before I had seen you!"
"How unkind is that wish! I came, Madam, with the intention of being
serviceable to you. Do not then put such hard constructions on my words.
I wished to consult with you on the most efficacious means to be used
for Sir William's emolument. You know not what power you have!"
"Power! alas! what power have I?"
"The most unlimited," he replied, fixing his odious eyes on my face,
which I returned by a look of the utmost scorn. "O Lady Stanley," he
continued, "do not--do not, I intreat you, use me so hardly. Will you
allow me to speak to you alone?"
"By no means."
"For God's sake do! Your servant shall remain in the next room, within
your call. Let me beseech you to place some confidence in me. I have
that to relate concerning Sir William, which you would not chuse a
domestic should hear. Dearest Lady Stanley, be not inexorable."
"You may go into that room, Win," said I, not deigning to answer this
importunate man. "My lord," addressing myself to him, "you can have
nothing to tell me to which I am a stranger; I know Sir William is
totally ruined. This is known to every servant in the house."
"Believe me," said he, "the execution is the least part of the evil.
That event happens daily among the great people: but there is an affair
of another nature, the stain of which can never be wiped off. Sir
William, by his necessities, has been plunged into the utmost
difficulties, and, to extricate himself, has used some unlawful means;
in a word, he has committed a forgery."
"Impossible!" cried I, clasping my hands together in agony.
"It is too true; Sir George Brudenel has the forged deed now in his
hands, and nothing can save him from an ignominious death, but the
raising a large sum of money, which is quite out of his power. Indeed, I
might with some difficulty assist him."
"And will you not step forth to save him?" I asked with precipitation.
"What would _you_ do to save him?" he asked in his turn, attempting to
take my hand.
"Can you ask me such a question? To save his life, what would I not do?"
"You have the means in your power."
"Oh! name them quickly, and ease my heart of this load of distraction!
It is more--much more than I can bear."
"Oh my lovely angel!" cried the horrid wretch, "would you but shew some
tenderness to me! would you but listen to the most faithful, most
enamoured of men, much might be done. You would, by your sweet
condescension, bind me for ever to your interest, might I but flatter
myself I should share your affection. Would you but give me the
slightest mark of it, oh! how blest I should be! Say, my adorable
Julia, can I ever hope to touch your heart?"
"Wretch!" cried I, "unhand me. How dare you have the insolence to
affront me again with the mention of your hateful passion? I believe all
you have uttered to be a base falsehood against Sir William. You have
taken an opportunity to insult his wife, at a time when you think him
too much engaged to seek vengeance; otherwise your coward soul would
shrink from the just resentment you ought to expect!"
"I am no coward, Madam," he replied, "but in my fears of offending the
only woman on whom my soul doats, and the only one whose scorn would
wound me. I am not afraid of Sir William's resentment--I act but by his
consent."
"By his consent!"
"Yes, my dear creature, by his. Come, I know you to be a woman of sense;
you are acquainted with your husband's hand-writing, I presume. I have
not committed a _forgery_, I assure you. Look, Madam, on this paper; you
will see how much I need dread the just vengeance of an injured husband,
when I have his especial mandate to take possession as soon as I can
gain my lovely charmer's consent; and, oh! may just revenge inspire you
to reward my labours!" He held a paper towards me; I attempted to snatch
it out of his hand. "Not so, my sweet angel, I cannot part with it; but
you shall see the contents of it with all my heart."
Oh! Louisa, do I live to tell you what were those contents!--"I resign
all right and title to my wife, Julia Stanley, to Lord Biddulph, on
condition that he pays into my hands the sum of fourteen thousand six
hundred pounds, which he enters into an engagement to perform. Witness
my hand,
WILLIAM STANLEY."
Grief, resentment, and amazement, struck me dumb. "What say you to this,
Lady Stanley? Should you not pique yourself on your fidelity to such a
good husband, who takes so much care of you? You see how much he prizes
his life."
"Peace, monster! peace!" cried I. "You have taken a base, most base
advantage of the wretch you have undone!"
"The fault is all your's; the cruelty with which you have treated me has
driven me to the only course left of obtaining you. You have it in your
power to save or condemn your husband."
"What, should I barter my soul to save _one_ so profligate of his? But
there are other resources yet left, and we yet may triumph over thee,
thou cruel, worst of wretches!"
"Perhaps you may think there are hopes from old Stanley; there can be
none, as he has caused this execution. It would half ruin your family to
raise this sum, as there are many more debts which they would be called
upon to pay. Why then will you put it out of my power to extricate him?
Let me have some influence over you! On my knees I intreat you to hear
me. I swear by the great God that made me, I will marry you as soon as a
divorce can be obtained. I have sworn the same to Sir William."
Think, my dearest Louisa, what a situation this was for me! I was
constrained to rein-in my resentment, lest I should irritate this wretch
to some act of violence--for I had but too much reason to believe I was
wholly in his power. I had my senses sufficiently collected (for which I
owe my thanks to heaven) to make a clear retrospect of my forlorn
condition--eight or ten strange fellows in the house, who, from the
nature of their profession, must be hardened against every distress,
and, perhaps, ready to join with the hand of oppression in injuring the
unfortunate--my servants (in none of whom I could confide) most of them
employed in protecting, what they styled, their own property; and either
totally regardless of me, or, what I more feared, might unite with this
my chief enemy in my destruction. As to the forgery, though the bare
surmise threw me into agonies, I rather thought it a proof how far the
vile Biddulph would proceed to terrify me, than reality; but the fatal
paper signed by Sir William--that was too evident to be disputed. This
conflict of thought employed every faculty, and left me
speechless--Biddulph was still on his knees, "For heaven's sake," cried
he, "do not treat me with this scorn; make me not desperate! Ardent as
my passion is, I would not lose sight of my respect for you."
"That you have already done," I answered, "in thus openly avowing a
passion, to me so highly disagreeable. Prove your respect, my lord, by
quitting so unbecoming a posture, and leave the most unfortunate of
women to her destiny."
"Take care, take care, Madam," cried he, "how you drive me to despair; I
have long, long adored you. My perseverance, notwithstanding your
frowns, calls for some reward; and unless you assure me that in a future
day you will not be thus unkind, I shall not easily forego the
opportunity which now offers."
"For mercy's sake!" exclaimed I, starting up, "what do you mean? Lord
Biddulph! How dare--I insist, Sir--leave me." I burst into tears, and,
throwing myself again in my chair, gave free vent to all the anguish of
my soul. He seemed moved. Again he knelt, and implored my
pardon--"Forgive me!--Oh! forgive me, thou sweet excellence! I will not
hereafter offend, if it is in nature to suppress the extreme violence of
my love. You know not how extensive your sway is over my soul! Indeed
you do not!"
"On the condition of your leaving me directly, I will endeavour to
forgive and forget what has passed," I sobbed out, for my heart was too
full of grief to articulate clearly.
"Urge me not to leave you, my angelic creature. Ah! seek not to drive
the man from your presence, who doats, doats on you to distraction.
Think what a villain your husband is; think into what accumulated
distress he has plunged you. Behold, in me, one who will extricate you
from all your difficulties; who will raise you to rank, title, and
honour; one whom you may make a convert. Oh! that I had met with you
before this cursed engagement, I should have been the most blest of men.
No vile passion would have interfered to sever my heart from my
beauteous wife; in her soft arms I should have found a balm for all the
disquietudes of the world, and learnt to despise all its empty delusive
joys in the solid bliss of being good and happy!" This fine harangue had
no weight with me, though I thought it convenient he should think I was
moved by it. "Alas! my Lord," said I, "it is now too late to indulge
these ideas. I am doomed to be wretched; and my wretchedness feels
increase, if I am the cause of making any earthly being so; yet, if you
have the tenderness for me you express, you must participate of my deep
affliction. Ask your own heart, if a breast, torn with anguish and
sorrow, as mine is, can at present admit a thought of any other
sentiment than the grief so melancholy a situation excites? In pity,
therefore, to the woman you profess to love, leave me for this time. I
said, I would forgive and forget; your compliance with my request may do
more; it certainly will make me grateful."
"Dearest of all creatures," cried he, seizing my hand, and pressing it
with rapture to his bosom, "Dearest, best of women! what is there that I
could refuse you? Oh nothing, nothing; my soul is devoted to you. But
why leave you? Why may I not this moment reap the advantage of your
yielding heart?"
"Away! away, my Lord," cried I, pushing him from me, "you promised to
restrain your passion; why then is it thus boundless? Intitle yourself
to my consideration, before you thus demand returns."
"I make no demands. I have done. But I flattered myself I read your soft
wishes in your lovely eyes," [Detestable wretch! how my soul rose up
against him! but fear restrained my tongue.] "But tell me, my adorable
angel, if I tear myself from you now, when shall I be so happy as to
behold you again?"
"To-morrow," I answered; "I shall be in more composed spirits to-morrow,
and then I will see you here; but do not expect too much. And now leave
me this moment, as I have said more than I ought."
"I obey, dearest Julia," cried the insolent creature, "I obey." And,
blessed be Heaven! he left the room. I sprung to the door, and
double-locked it; then called Win into the room, who had heard the whole
of this conversation. The poor soul was as pale as ashes; her looks were
contagious; I caught the infection; and, forgetting the distance betwixt
us (but misery makes us all equal), I threw my arms round her, and shed
floods of tears into her faithful bosom. When my storms of grief had a
little subsided, or indeed when nature had exhausted her store, I became
more calm, and had it in my power to consider what steps I should take,
as you may believe I had nothing further from my intention than meeting
this vile man again. I soon came to the determination to send to Miss
Finch, as there was no one to whom I could apply for an asylum; I mean,
for the present, as I am convinced I shall find the properest and most
welcome in your's and my dear father's arms bye and bye. I rang the
bell; one of the horrid bailiffs came for my orders. I desired to have
Griffith called to me. I wrote a note to Miss Finch, telling her in a
few words the situation of my affairs, and that my dread was so great of
receiving further insult from Lord Biddulph, that I could not support
the idea of passing the night surrounded by such wretches, therefore
intreated her to send some one in whom she could confide, in her
carriage, to convey me to her for a little time, till I could hear from
my friends. In a quarter of an hour Griffith returned, with a billet
containing only three lines--but oh, how much comfort. "My dearest
creature, my heart bleeds for your distresses; there is no one so proper
as your true friend to convey you hither. I will be with you in an
instant; your's, for ever,
MARIA FINCH."
I made Win bundle up a few night-cloaths and trifles that we both might
want, and in a short time I found myself pressed to the bosom of my dear
Maria. She had risen from her bed, where she had lain two days, to fly
to my succour. Ah! how much am I indebted to her! By Miss Finch's
advice, I wrote a few words to--oh! what shall I call him?--the man, my
Louisa, who tore me from the fostering bosom of my beloved father, to
abandon me to the miseries and infamy of the world! I wrote thus:
"Abandoned and forsaken by him to whom I alone ought to look up for
protection, I am (though, alas! unable) obliged to be the guardian of my
own honour. I have left your house; happy, happy had it been for me,
never to have entered it! I seek that asylum from strangers, I can no
longer meet with from my husband. I have suffered too much from my fatal
connexion with you, to feel disposed to consign myself to everlasting
infamy (notwithstanding I have your permission), to extricate you from a
trivial inconvenience. Remember, this is the first instance in which I
ever disobeyed your will. May you see your error, reform, and be happy!
So prays your much-injured, but still faithful wife,
JULIA STANLEY."
Miss Finch, with the goodness of an angel, took me home with her; nor
would she leave me a moment to myself. She has indulged me with
permission to write this account, to save me the trouble of repeating it
to her. And now, my Louisa, and you, my dear honoured father, will you
receive your poor wanderer? Will you heal her heart-rending sorrows, and
suffer her to seek for happiness, at least a restoration of ease, in
your tender bosoms? Will you hush her cares, and teach her to kiss the
hand which chastises her? Oh! how I long to pour forth my soul into the
breast from whence I expect to derive all my earthly comfort!
Adieu!
J.S.
LETTER XLVII.
TO Colonel MONTAGUE.
Well, Jack, we are all _entrain_. I believe we shall do in time. But old
Squaretoes has stole a march on us, and took out an extent against his
nephew. Did you ever hear of so unnatural a dog? It is true he has done
a great deal for Sir William; and saw plainly, the more money he paid,
the more extravagant his nephew grew; but still it was a damned affair
too after all. I have been with my dear bewitching charmer. I have her
promise to admit me as a visitor tomorrow. I was a fool not to finish
the business to-night, as I could have bribed every one in the house to
assist me. Your bailiffs are proper fellows for the purpose--but I love
to have my adorables meet me--_almost_ half way. I shall, I hope gain
her at last; and my victory will be a reward for all my pains and
labours.
I am interrupted. A messenger from Sir William. I must go instantly to
the Thatched-house tavern. What is in the wind now, I wonder?
* * * * *
Great God! Montague, what a sight have I been witness to! Stanley, the
ill-fated Stanley, has shot himself. The horror of the scene will never
be worn from my memory. I see his mangled corse staring ghastly upon me.
I tremble. Every nerve is affected. I cannot at present give you the
horrid particulars. I am more shocked than it is possible to conceive.
Would to Heaven I had had no connexion with him! Oh! could I have
foreseen this unhappy event! but it is too, too late. The undone
self-destroyed wretch is gone to answer for his crimes; and you and I
are left to deplore the part we have had in corrupting his morals, and
leading him on, step by step, to destruction.
My mind is a hell--I cannot reflect--I feel all despair and
self-abasement. I now thank God, I have not the weight of Lady Stanley's
seduction on my already overburdened conscience.
* * * * *