like towers, and here have I been traversing the paltry room of an inn
for one hour and three quarters. How much longer I shall stay here I
know not, but by heaven were I to depart with a thorough good will, it
would be to take the road back to the continent.
Arthur, Arthur, what a lesson it is that I have to get by rote! 'Fully
assured, Clement,' says Mr. Valmont in his letter, 'that you cannot have
departed from the rule of conduct I desired you to pursue, I do not
doubt but that you will joyfully quit the haunts of treacherous sordid
men, to enjoy with me the pleasant solitude of Valmont castle, &c. &c.'
No one knows better than yourself, dear Murden, how closely I have
pursued Mr. Valmont's _rule of conduct_, and I think you can guess also
how greatly I shall now _enjoy the pleasant solitude of Valmont castle_.
For a week, a month, perchance, the blooming Sibella will render the
wilderness a world. Could I flatter myself, that Mr. Valmont recals me
to give her to my arms, how I should bound over the distance which now
separates us? No, Arthur, no such blessing awaits your luckless friend;
I am to look on her as a sister, says Mr. Valmont. Good heaven! and he
recals me to stand perpetually on the brink of a precipice! For how can
I hear her, look on her, touch her, and be a brother? Nay, the very
first moment of my entrance into that castle may undo me, for she will
rush to my embrace, she will cover me with kisses, and his chilling eye
will be on me.
Had Mr. Valmont left me with the cottagers my parents, I had never seen
Sibella; then I had dreamed through a stupid existence, without knowing
life and love. Had he kept me the recluse of his woods, she had by this
time infused her wild untamed spirit unto me, and I should have torn her
from him, imagining we could live on berries, and drink water.
No more of that, Arthur. No! no! I now see the full value of my
obedience to Mr. Valmont's commands; for I would, by heaven, rather this
moment endure the rack, than be blasted to a life of hateful indigence,
abhorred poverty!
Ay, ay, I must obey, must obey, Murden. Must, while my heart, my
desires, my wishes, are still the same, must cloak them to please Mr.
Valmont's eye; to fit his fashion I must be _a brother_ to my charming
Sibella; must abjure a world I adore, rail at men, curse women.--I
invite you to the castle, Arthur, come and visit me in my disguise; come
and by reminding me of times past, keep alive my hopes and expectations
of times that may come.
Here, while I stay in this inn, I prepare for the first essay of my
practice in the cynical science. I have been recollecting, as well as I
could, the scraps and remnants of Mr. Valmont's harangue of man and
womankind; and I think I have made of my memory a sort of common place
book of this delectable jargon, from which I can pick and cull for all
Mr. Valmont's occasions.
Half an hour or so, I stood before the looking-glass, to find what face
was fittest to carry to the castle. The glances I have of late been used
to, may do for the wood when Mr. Valmont is out of sight, but they will
not suit the library. They speak a promptitude for pleasure. I must hide
them under my cloak, and borrow something, if I can, of Mr. Valmont's
sallow hues.
Yet these prudent necessary considerations found not an entrance into my
mind till I came within six miles of Valmont castle. I was engrossed by
a circumstance that hastened me to fly from the scene where I had known
so much of joy and pleasure.
Abandoned, artful, cursed deceiver! I speak, Arthur, of Janetta, who has
plundered, duped, and jilted me. How well she feigned her passion! How
artfully she drew me on continually to sacrifice to her avarice and
vanity, till I was almost beggared; and with what management did she
evade my first suspicions, and elude my enquiries, till at length an
accident gave me proof too strong to be doubted or evaded, that she was
falser than falsehood; that she was at once mine, and the mistress of
her friend's husband! I would not trust myself to hear her plead in her
defence; I would not stand the fascinations of her divine face; but
having received Mr. Valmont's letter an hour before, I ordered my
clothes to be packed up, and without taking leave of one single
acquaintance, I set off post for England--Ha!
Was ever any thing more unfortunate than this. Ross, Mr. Valmont's
steward, and one of the grooms from the castle have come into this inn,
and know I am here. The groom I could manage, but Ross is not to be
tampered with; and as sure as I live, he will inform Mr. Valmont of my
passing half a day so near the castle. Had I possessed an atom of common
understanding, I might have foreseen such an accident; and now, for want
of this small share of foresight, I am panic struck. Ross was going
from, not to the castle, therefore I will take one quarter of an hour to
chill my looks into brotherhood, and then brave the worst.
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
LETTER XII
FROM SIBELLA VALMONT
TO
CAROLINE ASHBURN
Hail, dearest Caroline!--Yes, peace and liberty, with every blessing for
which Sibella pants, will enter when the 'heavy gates of Valmont castle
fly back' to receive her Clement.
I do not count the minutes, for that would be to make time more tedious,
but I walk with a quicker step, with a firmer mien. I am ever seeking
change of place, and sleep and I are almost unacquainted.
Yet other countenances wear the uniformity they did before. No
matter!--but a short time; and, when I went to compare my own
transports, I can look on the eye, or read the heart of Clement, and
find them more than equalled.
My thoughts haste so pressingly to the future, that it requires an
effort stronger than you can conceive, (you who expect no Clement) to
turn them back to the detail you require.
I cannot be minute as to a conversation in which the hermit (as you call
him) was chief speaker; for some parts of it I have forgotten, and
others I did not understand.
He spoke with a rapidity which made him almost unintelligible; and his
pauses seemed rather the effect of sudden anxiety, than of attention to
my answers; he talked of escapes and accidents in a disjointed manner;
so that, from his broken sentences, one might have supposed he meant I
had placed him in hazard, and that I had conducted him to the Armoury.
That which I remember most clearly was, the earnestness with which he
urged me to lay no future restraint on myself. He said his interruptions
were now ended--but, he added, and several times repeated, we should one
day or other meet again; he then spoke something of dangers, but I know
not whether they related to himself or me.
He was very pale, wildness and apprehension were marked on his features.
He wore his hermit's hat and cloak, but the former was quite mis-shapen,
and both disfigured by dust and cobwebs. Once, in the vehemence of his
speech, he raised his arm, the folds of his cloak became loosened, and I
saw a sword glitter beneath it.
I left him in the Armoury, nor have I entered it since. The wood is all
my own again. No figure glides upon me but that my imagination loves to
form.
On the day succeeding that in which I found the hermit in the Armoury, I
saw Mrs. Valmont walking on the terrace. I went to her, and spoke of the
circumstance. She appeared agitated by my words; she grasped my hand,
and said the finger of heaven was in it; and she talked further in a
strange way, of something that she called _it_, and _it_. She would not
be me, she said, for worlds. I do fear the disorder has affected her
intellects.
But a little interval between me and perfect happiness! I cannot
write. You know, Caroline, I love you, but now, indeed, I cannot write.
Dearest Caroline, adieu.
SIBELLA VALMONT
LETTER XIII
FROM CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
TO
ARTHUR MURDEN
'Tis all gone, Murden. The pinnacle of my hopes and expectations is
crumbled to the dust. Where shall I turn me, or what consolation shall I
ask? Arthur, do not bestow on me that insolent pity which only augments
misfortune.
I am not the same Clement Montgomery you formerly knew, brought up in
the castle, with homage and respect, afterward introduced into the
circles of fashion, as Mr. Valmont's heir, and supported with an
allowance equal to that expectation; no, I am only one to whom he gave
an accidental kindness, on whom he bestowed temporary favours, and whom
he now condemns to the abhorred life of care, and plodding with the
lower orders of mankind.
Cursed be the hour in which I entered that inn, from whence I wrote you
my last letter! in that hour my misfortunes began. When I arrived at the
castle, Mr. Valmont was from home. Every creature rejoiced in my
arrival. Even the insensible Mrs. Valmont lavished caresses on me, and
praised the improvements of my person. Ah! but how can I tell you of
Sibella's joy? I know nothing that describes it: so unrestrained, so
exquisitely soft and tender, exquisitely delicate in all its effusions!
She appeared to me quite a new creature. I could not but acknowledge to
myself, that her charms surpassed even the faithless Janetta's charms. I
loved her the first moment I beheld her better than I had ever loved her
before; and I in secret cursed myself for having sacrificed my
innocence, and cursed you also, Arthur, who once said, _forget her in
other arms_.
One hour I passed in heaven, and then Mr. Valmont returned home. Ross
came with him. I saw them ride over the bridge, and I trembled with
apprehension. Mr. Valmont did not leave me long in doubt; for, when I
would have hastened to the library, I was stopped by his gentleman who
denied me admittance.
Three days Mr. Valmont preserved his inflexible resentment; and these
three days were passed with Sibella. She knew not why her uncle was in
anger with me, and she reviled him and cheered me with her smiles, and
sweet sounds of love, that I might not droop at my reception. She bade
me talk of the world. Alas, it was an alluring theme, and I talked with
more ardor than discretion of its abounding delights. I did not tell her
though, Arthur, of all the delights I had tasted there.
On the fourth morning, a messenger came to summon me to the library. I
turned pale, I loitered. 'Go! fly, Clement!' said Sibella: 'Cast away
these apprehensions. Recollect, my dear, dear Clement, that my uncle's
favourite maxim is, that disappointment should be always the forerunner
of pleasure. Who knows but Mr. Valmont at this moment waits to bestow
happiness on us?'
I went. With very different forebodings from Sibella's I entered Mr.
Valmont's presence. He received me like a stern haughty judge; I stood
an abashed fearful culprit.
He bitterly inveighed against my want of duty, in resting so long in
that inn so near his castle, after two years absence. He demanded the
reasons of my conduct; and I stammered an incoherent something about
want of horses, and having had letters to write. He saw I lied. He knew
I lied.
'Well, Sir,' said he, after a pause, 'we will pass that by for the
present. Now give me an account of your travels, and their effect upon
your opinions.'
No matter what I said, Arthur. 'Tis enough to tell you of the manner. It
seems I had not rancour enough for Mr. Valmont; I could not belie my
feelings with sufficient warmth. I could not renounce enormities I had
never known, and which have no existence but in his own inflated
imagination.
Sensible, that the manner of my description, and Mr. Valmont's
expectations, bore no sort of affinity, I became more and more confused;
until one of those frowns and gestures, which at nine years old made me
tremble for my life, now imposed on me a sudden silence. My sentence
remained unfinished, and Mr. Valmont leaning upon the table, beat an
angry tattoo with the fingers of his right hand. His eyes rolled from
one object to another, without resting upon any thing.
It might be a minute or more, perhaps, in my estimation it was an age,
that we remained thus. Suddenly Sibella opened the door and entered a
little way, in a light and cheerful manner; but seeing the state we were
in, she hesitated, turned an enquiring look upon me, and then made a
graceful bend to Mr. Valmont.
'How now, Sibella?' said he, 'who bid you come hither?'
'I came, Sir----' she replied, in a sweet but irresolute accent, and
then she again looked at me.
'I say, by what authority do you come, since you have not mine?'
While Mr. Valmont sternly asked that question, she kept her eyes fixed
on my pale perplexed countenance.
'Ah, Sir,' said she anxiously, 'don't you love Clement now?'
Mr. Valmont made no reply for two or three seconds. I dared not look up
to see whether he was more, or less angry.
'Tell me, child,' said he presently, to Sibella, 'what has that boy said
to you, since he returned so _affectionately_, _so dutifully_, _so
speedily_, to Valmont castle?'
Sibella paused: 'Tell me no falsehoods,' said he still more sternly.
'Falsehoods!' she repeated in a forcible tone, the colour mounting
higher in her cheeks, 'Sir, I have nothing to do with falsehoods. I
paused, because I thought I could not readily collect the matter of our
conversations into the compass of one answer. I might, indeed have done
it, for they have been uniform. We have talked, Sir, of our unchanging
truth. Of times past, and times to come. Of the world, of its pleasures,
and its virtues. Of----'
'Enough of it.' cried Mr. Valmont, darting on me a glance of extreme
wrath; 'You talked, you say, of times that are to come. Pray, who
endowed you with the gift of foretelling what times are to come?'
'Sir, our endowments are perfectly natural. We do not presume to tell of
the future, except as far as it is confined to the feelings of our own
hearts. We know, fully and entirely know, that our hearts must cease to
throb with life, when that love is extinguished, which was born and
nurtured to its growth, under the encouragement of your approbation--do
not frown on me, Sir,--I--I----'
Mr. Valmont did not speak while Sibella made a faultering stop. She
shortly went on again thus:
'I confess, Sir, that I do fear you. Habit is prevalent with me, and I
still tremble at your frowns. I would not offend you, but I must
expostulate. Oh be not, I intreat you, be not angry with Clement for
loving me! He must love me. Our love is the very soul of our being. Give
us then, Sir, new life! Unalloyed felicity! Say----'
She seized my hand, and leading me close up to Mr. Valmont, she added,
with rapid vehemence:
'Say now, that he is mine, and I am his for ever!'
Her emphasis made me tremble. I had neither power to brave him, and
speak with her, nor attempt conciliating him, by withdrawing my hand
from her's.
In a much less angry tone, although she had been so much more bold, than
he had used to me, Mr. Valmont said,
'You are strangely presumptuous, child. Have I not told you, I have
other designs. Have I not a right over you?'
'No, you have none!' replied Sibella, abruptly: 'No right to the
exercise of an unjust power over me! Why dream of impossibilities, and
talk of other designs? I tell you, Sir, I have looked on every side, and
I find it is your caprice, and no principle of reason in you, that
forbids our union.'
Had you seen him, Arthur, you could alone judge of the rage into which
this daring speech threw Mr. Valmont. He sprang up, _My caprice!_ he
vociferated, and after bestowing on Sibella an execration, he rushed
past us out of the library.
Sibella, neither abashed nor terrified, would have me go with her into
the park, but I dared not; fearing that Mr. Valmont might think I joined
in braving him if he saw us together. I endeavoured to persuade her it
was necessary I should remain in the library, and proper that she should
leave me. The lovely romantic girl called me weakly timid, and left me
somewhat displeased.
I sat out the time of Mr. Valmont's absence from the library, full two
hours, Arthur. When he came in, he said, 'Go, Sir. I shall have occasion
for you by and by.'
So much prudence had I, that I did not go near Sibella, but shut myself,
for the rest of the day, in my chamber, and sent her word it was by Mr.
Valmont's order. My servant found her weeping, with her little favourite
Fawn in her arms.
At six o'clock in the evening, I was again commanded to appear before
Mr. Valmont, which I did with the most humble and submissive deportment
I could possibly assume.
Before he spoke to me, he ordered Andrew to stand without the door, to
oppose Sibella, if she attempted to enter the library. Thus he began.
'Little did I expect, Clement, when I sent you from Valmont castle,
guarded by the lessons of my wisdom and experience, that you would
return with inclinations so different to those I would have had you
possess. Your folly is excessive, and it will work its own punishment.'
And on this theme he laboured most abundantly; it would weary you were I
to repeat it all. The second part of his subject commenced thus.
'You know, young man, (I am young man now, Arthur), that I have been a
friend to you, a more than common friend. Such a one as you will not
readily find among those people you admire, with equal mischief to
yourself, and ingratitude to me. You----'
Pshaw! I have not patience to recount the dull monotony of his charges,
let me at once proceed to the distracting summing up of the whole.
He told me, Arthur, that he was about to send me again from Valmont
castle. Ay, but how? Not with affluence at my command, and honours in my
possession, no, like a poor discarded wretch, condemned to disgrace and
slavery.
Yes, by heaven! Mr. Valmont, with a brow and heart of marble, told me,
he had determined, as the best means of promoting my happiness that I
should go to London; and there choose for myself a profession, hereafter
to live by it; and that his friendship and assistance would always be
mine, according to the decency and propriety of my deportment. I thought
I should have sunk upon the floor, Arthur.
The barbarian went on to torture me: In my castle you remain but one
month from this day. And then I shall give you L.50 which will be
sufficient for you, while you prepare your plans, and what future
services you require, must be regulated by your deserts, young man.'
'I think,' continued Mr. Valmont, 'it is my lot to receive nothing but
disobedience and ingratitude from those to whom I have shown most
kindness. You heard the insolence with which Sibella, to-day dared to
arraign my conduct. Tell her from me, Clement, that she almost urged me
to counteract the great good I intend her. But I will not be rash. Tell
her, that implicit obedience, and humble submission may expiate her
offence. I declare solemnly, that if she dares enter into my presence
to plead for you, while you stay in the castle, she shall that instant
be confined close prisoner in her chamber, and shall see you no more. If
she becomes modest, temperate, and submissive, and things turn out as I
expect, she will live yet to be very happy with the husband I intend
her.'
Much longer did he enlarge upon Sibella's offence, his anger, her
expected penitence, and his future designs for her. I heard him but
imperfectly. The other part of his harangue had conjured up a horrible
fiend. Dead-eyed poverty glared before me.
At length, he stumbled on a supposition, that Sibella would attempt to
leave the Castle with me; and I readily promised, as he desired, that I
would neither make, nor assist in the attempt, but would inform him if
she resolved on so dangerous and mad an enterprise.
Not one consolating hint did my ready obedience purchase. He said,
indeed, that the propriety of my present deportment merited
commendation. And he dismissed me. After four hours of this cruel
interviews' duration, he permitted me to stagger, sick, oppressed,
drooping, dying, to my chamber, and seek rest, if I could find it.
I number the moments with more exactness than the sands of an
hour-glass. One month is wasted now to one fortnight, and the end of
that fortnight is wretchedness certain and endless.
I have not told Sibella, yet she sees misery in my looks. She hears it
in my sighs, and the contagion has reached her. We meet but seldom.
Complaint and remonstrance have usurped the place of transport and
endearment. To her I attribute my sorrows to my jealousy of this rival,
to whom Mr. Valmont dooms her. Alas, my jealousy has but a small share
in them. Two years back, but to have dreamed another had gained
possession of her charms would have driven me mad. Now I know it an
inevitable certainty, and my feeble jealousy has none of the fierce
characteristics of that raging passion: no, it is just fitting the
groveling lover who is condemned to earn his abject livelihood.
She has seen him too. Mr. Valmont, in his own inexplicable way, has
contrived two whimsical meetings for them. She does not conjecture this.
Having related the circumstance, it is removed from her thoughts, and
she mourns my supposed jealousy, as a cruel misfortune.
My impending fate she must know sooner or later, and this very morning,
when she quits her apartments to go to the wood, I am resolved to
follow, and tell her my despair. Perhaps she will join in seeming to
renounce me, and thus so far conciliate Mr. Valmont, that some pity may
arise for me in his obdurate breast.
You, Arthur, may perhaps be as insensible to the calamities of your
friend as you have hitherto appeared to his pleasures. I have seen some
letters that speak of you, and by them, I learn you are not less
inexplicable to others than to me. Who is this Miss Ashburn that Sibella
rapturously speaks of? I think I should not like her. She appears to
have far-fetched ideas. I wonder Mr. Valmont should have suffered her
and Sibella's intercourse. Are you, Murden, in love with this lady?
Answer me these questions, and above all, assure me that you will not
breathe a whisper of this change in my affairs to any living creature.
Sibella this instant crosses the lawn, I depart on my desperate errand.
* * * * *
I have performed my task, and gained nothing by it. No nothing. She will
not, cruel as she is, she will not soothe Mr. Valmont, by pretending to
renounce me. By heaven, I do not believe she loves me! Scarcely did she
betray a particle of surprise, not one of grief. When I declared myself
disinherited, I expected to have seen her frantic.
Well, then, it is all at an end! Ay, ay, she is wise. She talks of love
to amuse me, and already prepares to yield herself to the wealthy lover
Mr. Valmont provides. Oh, distraction! They will live in splendor and
happiness, while I, an outcast, the contemned, unpitied, and forgotten.
Farewel! Would I could say for ever!
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
LETTER XIV
FROM SIBELLA VALMONT
TO
CAROLINE ASHBURN
Why in that moment should I turn coward, and rush from my purposes? Why
did imagination cast an unusual gloom around me? Why did I sigh and
tremble? Such alone ought to be the emotions of a guilty mind, and
surely I am blameless.
I am about to do nothing rash, I obey no impulse of passion, I have not
separated duty and pleasure. I have examined the value of the object I
would obtain with calmness; and whatever view I take of the means, still
duty points to the part I have chosen.
Oh, Caroline, could I once have imagined that I should require hours to
deliberate whether I ought to become the bride of Clement!
No longer the animated noble Clement, whose love, the very essence of
his existence, soared beyond murmurs, jealousies, and fears, whose eye
ever spoke the fulness of content, he is now wan, desponding, as ardent,
yet less chaste, misled by the wild creations of his distempered fancy,
ashamed of poverty, brooding over imaginary evils; over doubts, fears,
jealousies!
What a dark and fatal cloud must have overspread the mind of Clement,
ere he could fear Sibella, for her love is not a mutable passion, it is
incorporate with her nature. My love and reason have become one, my
fancy only subservient to its predominant command. Clement still loves,
and I know he would view the fairest beauty, the brightest grace, with
an unmoved look, with an unpalpitating heart, for who that loved could
be faithless!
But 'tis this cold, this cruel uncle has done it all. He heaps secret on
secret, uncertainty on uncertainty, till the poor youth, bewildered,
surrounded, overwhelmed, sinks the victim of conjecture.