MRS. SLINGSBY AND THE BARONET AGAIN.
A few days had elapsed since the events related in the preceding
chapter.
We must now again introduce our readers to the abode of Mrs. Slingsby,
in Old Burlington Street.
It was about ten o'clock in the morning; the breakfast things had just
been cleared away; and the pious lady was sitting in an abstracted—nay,
positively mournful mood, holding in her hand the _Morning Herald_, on
which, however, her looks were not fixed.
There was something on her mind. She was the prey alike to a source of
disquietude and to the embarrassment caused by a projected scheme, beset
with difficulties which seemed insuperable.
At length a double knock at the door interrupted her painful reverie;
and in a few minutes Sir Henry Courtenay, whom she had been expecting,
was announced.
The baronet's countenance was lighted up with an expression of joy and
triumph; and, as soon as the servant had retired, he embraced his
mistress with more than his wonted ardour. Still that ardour seemed not
to exist on account of her, but rather to arise from feelings which
required a vent: it was an embrace that appeared to say, "Congratulate
me, for I have succeeded!"
"You are unusually gay this morning, my dear Henry," observed the lady,
somewhat piqued at his manner; for her perception was quite keen enough
to comprehend the real nature of the baronet's emotions, as we have just
described them.
"Martha, my love," responded Sir Henry, "I have just brought a well-laid
plot to a successful issue—at least, so far successful, that there can
be no doubt as to the result."
"I dare say the project has but little interest for me," exclaimed the
lady. "You have become a general _intriguant_ I am convinced, Sir Henry;
and your conduct is not fair or proper towards me."
"My dear Martha, I have before told you that it is impossible for me to
remain completely faithful to you," answered the baronet. "I would not
bind myself to any one woman, for all the world. If there be a woman to
whom I could so bind myself, it is decidedly yourself."
"Thank you, Sir Henry, for the compliment," said Mrs. Slingsby, a little
softened.
"But it is impossible, I repeat. Moreover," continued the baronet, "you
must not complain of me—for I do all I can to render you happy. My
banker's book is at your service——"
"Well, well," interrupted Mrs. Slingsby, "we will not dispute. Indeed, I
have matters of too great an importance upon my mind to permit me to
devote attention to petty jealousies and idle frivolities; and I
perceive that you have also much to occupy your thoughts. But the
revelation shall commence with you. Come, Henry, tell me all you have to
say; and when we have discoursed on your affairs, you shall listen to
mine."
"Be it so, Martha," said the baronet; then drawing his chair close to
that of his mistress, he continued thus: "You are well aware how vexed
and annoyed I was when you allowed the two girls to depart in so sudden
a manner from the house."
"And you are also aware how cruelly I was discovered and reproached by
my nephew Clarence," added Mrs. Slingsby.
"I have not forgotten all you told me on that head, Martha," returned
the baronet; "and perhaps what I am going to tell you may set your mind
at ease relative to that same nephew of yours."
"Poor Clarence!" exclaimed the lady, really touched as she thought of
him. "He has been dreadfully ill ever since that shabby trick which Mr.
Torrens played him. For three weeks he was confined to his bed, and was
delirious——"
"I know all that, Martha," interrupted the baronet somewhat impatiently.
"But do listen to me, as I am going to tell you things which I have
hitherto kept altogether to myself. Well, you must know, then, that I
was determined not to be discomfited by the abrupt return of Rosamond to
her father's house; and I was well aware that, after all which had
occurred between Villiers and yourself, you could not possibly give me
any further assistance. So I acted for myself. I ascertained every
requisite particular relative to this Mr. Torrens; I discovered that he
is overwhelmed with difficulties—trembling on the verge of
insolvency—and anxious to do any thing that may save him from so
ignominious a fate. I also learnt that he is a man who will sacrifice
his best feelings and principles for money. He has a mania for building
speculations; and he conceives that if he be only assisted with adequate
funds, he shall make a rapid and princely fortune. Love for his
daughters he has not: he merely regards them as beautiful objects, to be
sold to the highest bidder—and on what terms he scarcely cares, so that
they become the means of producing him money. Such is the person on whom
I have had to work—and I have not worked ineffectually."
"Then you have formed an acquaintance with him?" exclaimed Mrs.
Slingsby.
"An acquaintance!" cried the baronet, chuckling; "I have formed an
intimate friendship."
"What! in four or five weeks!" said Mrs. Slingsby.
"Exactly so. I obtained an introduction to him through his surveyor, who
also happens to be mine; and under pretence of bargaining with him for
the purchase of some of his houses, I wormed myself into his confidence.
He at length informed me that there were heavy mortgages on all his
buildings, and that he was anxious to sell some in order to be able to
proceed with others. When I encountered the young ladies, I affected to
be greatly surprised that they should prove to be the daughters of the
very Mr. Torrens to whom my surveyor had recommended me."
"You have worked systematically indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Slingsby, with
pouting lips. "But pray proceed."
"Sometimes I was enabled, when I called," continued the baronet, "to
obtain a few minutes' conversation with Rosamond alone; for Adelais, the
elder sister, usually remains in her own chamber, a prey to the deepest
melancholy. But Rosamond never appeared to comprehend any of the
significant though well wrapt up hints which I dropped relative to my
feelings concerning her. It is evident that you proved either a bad
tutoress, Martha, or she a dull pupil."
"I presume you are coming to a crisis, Henry," said Mrs. Slingsby; "for
your narrative is somewhat of the most tedious."
"I will endeavour to render it a little more interesting," observed the
baronet complacently. "A few days ago I called at Torrens Cottage, and
found the house in the greatest confusion. An execution had been levied
in the morning, and the broker was there, putting a value upon the
property. Mr. Torrens was in a state of dark and sombre despair; the
young ladies were in their own apartment. I had a long private
conversation with the father. He made me acquainted with the entire
position of his affairs; and I discovered that five thousand pounds
would be required to redeem him from utter ruin. It was then that I
gradually unveiled my purposes—it was then that I dropped mysterious
hints of my objects and views. At first he was astounded when the light
began to dawn upon him, and he caught a glimpse of my meaning; but as I
carelessly displayed a roll of notes before him, he grew attentive, and
appeared to reflect profoundly."
"_The man who deliberates, is lost_," said Mrs. Slingsby, quoting the
hackneyed proverb, and shuddering—bad, criminal, worthless as she was—at
the tremendous amount of guilt which she now more than half suspected to
be already perpetrated, or at all events to be approaching its
consummation.
"While we were yet far from coming to an open explanation," continued
the baronet, as calmly as if he were narrating a history of but little
moment, "an event occurred which hastened the affair to the catastrophe
that I contemplated. A sheriff's officer entered and arrested Mr.
Torrens for a considerable amount—seven hundred pounds. The execution
levied on the property in the house was for three hundred and forty; and
thus he required an immediate advance of upwards of a thousand pounds to
save himself from a prison, and his furniture from a public sale in due
course. I requested the officer to withdraw from the room for a few
minutes, stating who I was, and pledging myself that Mr. Torrens should
not attempt to escape. I will not tell you all that then took place
between me and the father of those girls: let it suffice for you to
learn, that at the expiration of nearly an hour's discourse—varied on
his part by appeals, threats, prayers, and imprecations—_he agreed to
sell his daughter Rosamond_!"
"As your wife?" exclaimed Mrs. Slingsby, in a hoarse, hollow tone.
"No: as my mistress—as any thing I choose," returned Sir Henry
Courtenay, emphatically.
Mrs. Slingsby shuddered from head to foot.
"How silly of you to affect horror at such an event!" exclaimed the
baronet.
"Yes—it _is_ silly on my part!" cried Mrs. Slingsby, bitterly; "silly,
because I ought to have played a different part when first you touched
upon the subject a few weeks ago. But, my God! Henry—you cannot mean—you
will not, surely—surely——"
"Martha, this passes all endurance," said the baronet sternly. "If you
do not choose to listen to me, I can retire: if you will not assist me,
there is an end to every thing between you and me—and then, how will you
live?"
"What assistance do you require?" asked the widow, in a low and
tremulous tone—for she was shocked at all she had heard, and she was
terrified by the menace which the baronet had just uttered.
"You shall learn," answered the latter. "I advanced the sums necessary
to save Mr. Torrens from a prison and his furniture from the effects of
the levy, taking his note of hand, payable on demand, for the amount—so
that should he wish to retract from his bargain, he is completely in my
power. I have agreed to give him five thousand pounds in all—_as the
price of his daughter_. But he represented to me that the project can
never be carried into execution, until Adelais and Rosamond shall have
been separated. I was not unprepared for such an objection; and I
accordingly proposed that he should permit Clarence Villiers to marry
Adelais without delay—her drooping health serving as the plea for this
relenting disposition on his part. I moreover promised my special
protection on behalf of Clarence, for whom I can speedily obtain a
government situation of far greater emolument than the paltry clerkship
which he now holds. Then, when the wedding is over, and the young couple
have quitted London, to pass the honeymoon somewhere in the country,
_you will request Rosamond to spend a few days at your house_."
And the baronet fixed a significant look upon his mistress as he uttered
these words, so pregnant with terrible meaning.
"Impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Slingsby: "if the deed were done
here—beneath this roof—it would ruin me!"
"Ridiculous!" cried the baronet; and he proceeded to argue his hellish
project in a manner which showed how fully he had considered it in all
its details, and how artfully he had devised the means to render an
exposure improbable.
[Illustration]
But we cannot place on record all that was urged by him, or objected to
by his mistress, on this particular point; suffice it to say that,
influenced by the menaces more than by the reasoning which came from his
lips, the pious lady at last consented to become the pander to his
damnable machinations.
"Mr. Torrens shall this day write a letter to your nephew and invite him
to the Cottage," said the baronet, when the whole plan was fully agreed
upon. "Clarence will not of course be suffered to know that any
interference on my part has brought about a reconciliation between him
and the father of his beloved. The marriage will be hurried on as much
as possible, and then Rosamond will become mine! But is Clarence
sufficiently recovered from his illness to leave his dwelling?"
"He is much better than he was a few days ago," returned Mrs. Slingsby;
"but when he first awoke to consciousness, after a month's duration of
alarming illness and almost constant delirium, he received a severe
shock, which produced a partial relapse. In a word, he inquired
concerning the highwayman Thomas Rainford; and, on hearing that he had
suffered the penalty of death, he exhibited the most painful and
heart-rending emotions."
"But can he leave his room? Is he well enough to move out again?"
demanded the baronet impatiently.
"Yes: he was here yesterday," answered Mrs. Slingsby. "Moreover, a
letter conveying to him such joyful news as those which Mrs. Torrens
will have to impart, cannot fail to restore him speedily to health and
good spirits."
"Thus far all goes well," said Sir Henry Courtenay. "And now, Martha, my
love, it is your turn to speak."
"I have consented to serve you, Henry, in a most difficult and dangerous
scheme," observed the lady, after a few moments' reflection; "may I hope
for aid and support from you in a plan which _I_ have formed?"
"Certainly. Proceed—my curiosity is already excited."
"Henry," said Mrs. Slingsby, sinking her voice to a low and serious
tone; "I am again——"
The baronet started.
"Yes—again with child," added the widow; "and on this occasion I intend
to turn to a good account what would otherwise be deemed a terrible
misfortune."
"I cannot for the life of me understand you," exclaimed Sir Henry
Courtenay.
"I will explain myself," resumed Mrs. Slingsby. "You are well aware of
the readiness which even well-informed persons in this country manifest
to put faith in anything monstrous or preposterous that may be
proclaimed or established under the cloak of religion. The greater the
falsehood, the more greedily it is swallowed. There is that scoundrel
and hypocrite Sheepshanks, for instance, who was so completely exposed a
few weeks ago: he has taken a chapel somewhere in the Tottenham Court
Road, and preached for the first time last Sunday. He has now become a
dissenter; and in his initial sermon he dwelt boldly and long on the
errors of which he had been guilty. He declared that he had been sorely
beset by Satan, to whom he had for a time succumbed: hence his
disgraceful fall. But he proceeded to aver that he and Satan had since
then had a long and desperate struggle together, throughout an entire
night, in his bed-chamber; and that he eventually succeeded in sending
the Evil One howling away just as the day broke. He therefore proclaimed
that he had now emancipated himself from the thraldom of hell, and was a
chosen vessel of heaven once again. This discourse produced such an
effect, that when he descended from the pulpit, many of the congregation
pressed forward to shake him by the hand; and he is now in a more
fragrant odour of sanctity than ever."
"To what is all this to lead, Martha?" inquired Sir Henry, completely
bewildered by the long tirade relative to Mr. Sheepshanks.
"I merely mentioned the circumstances which I have related, for the
purpose of convincing you how easily the world is duped by persons
professing extreme sanctity," continued Mrs. Slingsby.
"To be sure!" ejaculated Sir Henry: "there are always plenty of fools to
assemble at the beck and word of a knave."
"And it is with these impressions," added the widow, "that I intend to
convert my present misfortune into an honour and a source of immense
profit."
"May I be hanged if I understand one word of all you are saying!" cried
the baronet, completely bewildered. "You are in the family way again, it
appears; and yet you glory in the circumstance!"
"Doubtless you have heard the story of Johanna Southcott?"[28] said the
widow, with a glance full of meaning.
"And you would imitate that imposture!" exclaimed Sir Henry: "'tis
madness—sheer madness! Your nephew, who knows how intimate you and I are
together, would expose the miserable trick."
"That is the principal difficulty which I should have to encounter,"
said Mrs. Slingsby, in a calm tone: "and even that is not
insurmountable. I require your aid, indeed, on that very point. The
change which, to suit _your_ views, has taken place—or will speedily
take place—relative to the position of Clarence and Adelais, already
smoothes down much of the difficulty alluded to. Clarence will receive
the benefit of your interest: exert that interest, then, to procure him
a situation in some distant colony—or the East Indies, if you will—and
his absence will alike render _you_ more secure in the enjoyment of your
Rosamond's person, and will remove to a distance the only individual who
could possibly interfere with _my_ project."
"Martha, this scheme of yours is utter madness, I repeat," exclaimed the
baronet. "I will have nothing to do with it. If you attempt to palm so
ridiculous a deceit on the world, all sorts of prying inquiries will be
made, and the real nature of our intimacy must in that case be
inevitably discovered. No—it shall not be done! I will give you money to
go abroad, if you choose, when your situation may render necessary a
temporary disappearance from London; but to consent to this insane
project——"
"Well, well, Henry," interrupted the lady, terrified by the vehemence of
the baronet's manner, "you shall have your own way."
"Now you are reasonable," said Sir Henry, drawing his chair closer to
that in which she was seated, and beginning to toy with her.
But we need not prolong our description of this interview. Suffice it to
say, that Mrs. Slingsby consented to abandon her atrocious scheme of
representing herself as a second Johanna Southcott, and on the other
hand promised to lend her aid to the no less infamous conspiracy formed
against the honour of the unsuspecting Rosamond Torrens—for which
concessions the pious and excellent lady received a cheque for a
considerable sum on Sir Henry Courtenay's bankers.
* * * * *
The plan which Mrs. Slingsby had conceived, would never for one moment
have obtained any degree of consistency in her imagination, had she not
been well aware that there were thousands and tens of thousands of
credulous gulls—superstitious dolts and idiots—miserable and
contemptible fanatics, who would have greedily swallowed the impious,
blasphemous, and atrocious lie.
In earnest belief of the Christian religion, and for profound veneration
of all the sublime truths and doctrines taught by the Bible, we yield to
no living being:—but it is not with common patience that we contemplate
that disgusting readiness which so many of our fellow-countrymen exhibit
to put faith in the false prophets and hypocrites who start up on all
sides, each with some saving system of his own.
Not many years have elapsed since the Reverend Mr. Irving electrified
all England with his "unknown tongues;" and there were impostors and
fanatics, or fools and knaves, prompt to give an impulse to that
memorable delusion by lending themselves to the cheat.
In this civilized country, too—in the nineteenth century—in a land whose
sons proclaim themselves to be farther advanced in knowledge and
enlightening principles than any other race on the surface of the
earth—in one of the counties, moreover, where the refinement of
intellect is supposed to prevail to a degree of brilliancy certainly not
excelled in other parts of the kingdom,—there—in the neighbourhood of
the cathedral city of Canterbury—did a madman, at no very remote date,
assemble a host of enthusiastic believers in his horrible assumption of
the name and attributes of the SAVIOUR OF THE WORLD! Yes—in the vicinity
of a town presumed to possess all the benefit which the knowledge and
learning of innumerable clergymen can possibly impart, did Mad Tom
successfully personate the Messiah for several days!
But, oh! how sad—how mournful is it to contemplate the course which the
Government of England is taking at the instant while we are penning
these lines! A General Fast, to propitiate the Almighty, and to induce
Him to avert his wrath from Ireland! Holy God! do thy thunders sleep
when men thus blaspheme thy sacred name—thus actually reproach Thee with
the effects of their misdeeds?
When misgovernment has brought Ireland to the verge of desperation,—when
landlords have drained the country of its resources to be expended in
the British metropolis,—when the agents and middlemen have exercised the
full amount of petty tyranny and goading oppression upon the unhappy
tenants,—when the Irish pride has been insulted by the symbols of
subjection until endurance is no longer possible,—when the ambition of
many gifted minds has been chafed and irritated at being excluded from a
career of honour they would otherwise have pursued,—when all the
humanizing effects of civilization have been restricted by a perpetual
collision between the triumphant Protestant religion on the one hand
domineering with insolence, and the defeated Catholic religion on the
other looking for the chance of regaining a lost ascendancy,—when, too,
an unprincipled system of agitation has fanned the flame of the worst
feelings and extorted the few pence from the pockets of the
half-starving peasantry,—when all these influences, forming an aggregate
powerful enough to crush the most flourishing country upon the face of
the earth, have been brought to bear upon unhappy Ireland, and have
reduced her population to a misery which with such fertile causes was
inevitable,—there are to be found men who are bold enough, in their
deplorable ignorance or their abominable impiety, to accuse the Almighty
of having purposely afflicted Ireland!
People of the British Isles! be not deceived by this blasphemous
proceeding—a proceeding that would shift an awful responsibility from
the shoulders of incompetent statesmen, and lay it to the account of
heaven! Our blood runs cold as we write these lines—we shudder as we
contemplate the wickedness of this impious subterfuge!
A General Fast to propitiate the Almighty—when the misgovernment and the
misdeeds of men have worked all the horrible results complained of!
Carlile, Hone, Richard Taylor, Tom Paine, and the whole host of avowed
infidels were never prosecuted by the Attorney-general for blasphemy
worse than that which attributes to the Almighty the effects of the
errors, ignorance, despotism, and short-sightedness of human beings!
God has given us a fair and beauteous world to dwell in,—he has endowed
us with intelligence to make the most of the produce of the soil,—and
his revealed laws and doctrines have supplied us with precepts competent
to maintain order and regularity in society. HE manifests no caprice—no
change: the seasons come in due course, each bringing its peculiar
bounties;—and it depends on ourselves to render our abiding-places here
scenes of comfort, happiness, and contentment. But if by our own
ignorance, wickedness, or tyrannical behaviour, we succeed in rendering
any one spot of this fair and beauteous world a prey to famine and its
invariable attendant—pestilence,—if we undertake to govern a country
which we have conquered, and instead of applying beneficial and suitable
measures, heap insult, wrong, error, and oppression upon its people,—how
can we be surprised that the worst results should ensue? and how can we
be so wickedly blind, or so vilely hypocritical, as to attempt to cast
upon the dispensations of Providence those lamentable evils which we
ourselves have engendered?
Again we say that a more abominable insult to the Majesty of Heaven was
never perpetrated, than that conveyed by the motives set forth as a
reason for a General Fast! The Ministers who have advised Queen Victoria
to assent to such a hideous mockery, are unworthy the confidence of the
nation. England will become the laughing-stock—the scorn—the derision of
the whole world. Oh! we feel ashamed of belonging to a country in which
such monstrous proceedings are set in motion under the solemn sanction
of the Sovereign and her Ministers!
-----
Footnote 28:
Partington's "Dictionary of Universal Biography" contains the
following brief but faithful account of that impious and abominable
impostress, Johanna Southcott:
"She was a singular fanatic, whose extravagant pretensions attracted a
numerous band of converts in London and its vicinity, said to have, at
one period, amounted to upwards of 100,000. She was born in the west
of England, about the year 1750, of parents in very humble life, and,
being carried away by a heated imagination, gave herself out as the
woman spoken of in the book of Revelation. In this capacity she for
awhile carried on a lucrative trade in the sale of seals, which were,
under certain conditions, to secure the salvation of the purchasers. A
disorder subsequently giving her the outward appearance of pregnancy,
after she had passed her grand climacteric, she announced herself as
the mother of the promised Shiloh, whose speedy advent she predicted.
The faith of her followers, among whom were several clergymen of the
established church, rose to enthusiasm. A cradle of the most expensive
materials, and highly decorated, was prepared by her expectant
votaries at a fashionable upholsterer's, and every preparation made
for the reception of the miraculous babe that superstition and
credulity could induce. About the close of the year 1814, however, the
prophetess began to have her misgivings during some comparatively
lucid intervals, in which she declared that, 'if she was deceived, she
had, at all events, been the sport of some spirit, either good or
evil;' and the 27th December in that year, death put an end to both
her hopes and fears. With her followers, however, it was otherwise;
and though for a time confounded by her decease, which they could
scarcely believe to be real, her speedy resurrection was confidently
anticipated. In this persuasion many lived and died, nor is her sect
yet extinct: but, within a short period, several families of her
disciples were living together in the neighbourhood of Chatham, in
Kent, remarkable for the length of their beards and the general
singularity of their appearance. The body of Johanna underwent an
anatomical investigation after her death, when the extraordinary
appearance of her shape was accounted for upon medical principles; and
her remains were conveyed for interment, under a fictitious name, to
the burying-ground attached to the chapel in St. John's Wood."