THE EARL OF ELLINGHAM AND LADY HATFIELD
AGAIN.
It was about two o'clock, on the day following the incidents just
related, that we shall find the Earl of Ellingham seated with Lady
Georgiana Hatfield, in the drawing-room at the residence of the latter.
Arthur had returned on the preceding evening from France, accompanied by
Mr. de Medina and Esther, after having seen Tom Rain, Tamar, and Jacob
Smith embark at Havre-de-Grace for the United States.
Rainford and Tamar were united in the bonds of matrimony in Paris; and
Mr. de Medina had insisted upon placing in the hands of his son-in-law a
sum of ten thousand pounds, as a proof of his perfectly cordial feeling
towards him, and of his determination, also, fully to recognise Tamar as
his daughter again.
The Earl communicated all these incidents to Lady Hatfield, who listened
to them with the greatest interest.
"I propose to introduce the Medinas to you shortly, Georgiana," said the
young nobleman. "You will find the father a person of very gentlemanly
manners, well read, and particularly agreeable in conversation; while
his daughter, Miss Esther, is as amiable and accomplished as the child
of such a man should be."
"Arthur," replied Lady Hatfield—for they now addressed each other in the
same friendly, or rather familiar manner, when alone together, as if
they were brother and sister—"I would rather not form the acquaintance
of your friends for the present."
The Earl appeared surprised and vexed.
"Georgiana," he exclaimed, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, "is it
possible that you entertain any of those ridiculous prejudices[36] which
only very ignorant or very narrow-minded persons can possibly entertain
towards a most estimable race?"
"Oh! no—no," cried Lady Hatfield emphatically. "I have read much
concerning the Jews, and I feel convinced that they are most unjustly
treated by Christians. Heaven knows, Arthur, that I have no bad
prejudices of that nature; and were I imbued with them, I would never
rest till I had stifled such evidences of an illiberal and narrowed
mind."
"I am delighted to hear you thus express yourself," said the Earl.
"During my sojourn in France with the Medina family, I have obtained a
great insight into the Jewish character; and I am convinced that it is
fully as benevolent, as generous, and as liberal as that of the
Christian. But we were speaking of my proposed presentation of Mr. de
Medina and his daughter Esther to you. From all that I have said to them
concerning you, they are most anxious to form your acquaintance; and you
have yet to explain to me the meaning of your observation that you would
rather postpone the introduction."
"To justify myself," returned Georgiana, blushing, "against your
suspicion that I entertain illiberal prejudices, Arthur, I will frankly
state my motives for expressing that wish. Indeed, I know not why any
consideration should induce me to retain those motives a
secret—especially as the explanation of them will afford me an
opportunity to give you my advice. For have we not agreed to be unto
each other as brother and sister?—and in what can a sister more
conscientiously advise her brother than in matters regarding his
happiness?"
"My happiness!" exclaimed the Earl, starting slightly, and evincing some
degree of astonishment at Lady Hatfield's remark.
"Yes, Arthur—your happiness!" repeated Georgiana, with difficulty
suppressing a sigh. "Now, listen to me attentively. I have heard that
Miss Esther de Medina is eminently beautiful—excessively
accomplished—very amiable—and endowed with every qualification to render
her worthy of becoming even a monarch's bride."
"Georgiana!" cried the Earl of Ellingham, his heart fluttering with
mingled suspense, surprise, and joy.
"Yes," observed Lady Hatfield; "and since you have learnt," she added
more slowly, and in a softly plaintive tone—though she endeavoured to
subdue the emotion which so modulated her voice,—"since you have learnt
that _our_ union is impossible, Arthur,—since you have ceased to look
upon me otherwise than as a sister,—it is probable—nay, it is both
natural and certain that you cannot have beheld Esther de Medina with
indifference."
"Georgiana," exclaimed Arthur, in a solemn tone, "I never can forget
that my first love was devoted to you; and—although circumstances have,
alas! prevented our union—yet I should be unwilling to promise to
another that heart which I so freely—so gladly gave to you!"
"It is alike unjust and ridiculous for me to suppose that, as I cannot
become your wife, Arthur, you may never marry. No," continued Lady
Hatfield; "I should despise myself, were I to entertain such abhorrent
selfishness. My ardent desire is to know that you are happy; and Esther
de Medina is well qualified to ensure your felicity. Nay—interrupt me
not: remember, it is now a sister who counsels a brother! Granting even
that you could never love another as you have loved me—and this is a
supposition which I have not vanity enough to entertain for a
moment—but, even granting it, for argument's sake, you may yet treat a
beautiful and affectionate wife with that tenderness—those delicate
attentions—and that cherishing kindness which will make _her_ happy. Oh!
believe me, such a state of bliss would soon beget love in your heart,—a
love for Esther as ardent and sincere as that with which you honoured
me; for it is the mere idle theory of romance-writers, that the same
heart cannot love twice. Nature herself proclaims the falsehood of the
doctrine; and the experience of all wise legislators, whether secular or
ecclesiastic, declares the same, by the mere fact of allowing second
marriages. Believe me, Arthur, I am speaking solely in regard to your
happiness; and the day shall come when your lips breathe the words,
'_Georgiana, I thank thee for the counsel thou gavest me_.'"
The Earl surveyed with respectful admiration that noble-hearted woman
who thus stifled her own feelings through generous solicitude for his
felicity.
"And now," she resumed, after a moment's pause, "you can divine the
reasons which induced me to express a wish that my introduction to the
Medinas should be postponed for the present. I am but a weak woman;—and
though I can proudly say that no petty feeling of jealousy would ever
enter my heart—yet I would rather not awaken in my mind painful
recollections of _what might have been_, by beholding you in the society
of one to whom you would be engaged. Moreover, as Miss de Medina has
doubtless heard that _our_ union was once resolved upon," added Lady
Hatfield, now unable to suppress a profound sigh, "it would not be
agreeable for her to visit me, if she accept you as her husband, until
after your marriage. Those are my motives, Arthur: and now you will
admit that, so far from entertaining any illiberal prejudices against
the Jews, I have proved the very contrary, by earnestly recommending you
to espouse an amiable and beautiful lady belonging to that nation."
[Illustration]
"Dearest sister—for such indeed you are to me," said the Earl of
Ellingham, "I appreciate all the excellence of your intentions in thus
advising me; and I will frankly admit to you, that did I now think of
uniting my fate with any woman, Esther de Medina would be the object of
my choice, since my alliance with yourself has been rendered impossible.
But I am not quite prepared to take that step—nor do I even know whether
Miss de Medina would accept my suit, were I to proffer it."
"If her affections were not engaged before she saw you—before she knew
so much of you," exclaimed Georgiana, "she loves you now. Oh! of this I
am convinced," she continued enthusiastically. "Consider how much you
have done to render her grateful to you; and gratitude in woman is the
parent of affection! You have saved her beloved sister Tamar from the
depths of despair by adopting those wondrous schemes, by which he who is
now her husband, was snatched from the jaws of death;—you reconciled a
father to a long discarded daughter;—and you have at length seen that
daughter made a wife—the wife of the man she adores! Oh! Arthur, think
you not that Esther ponders on all this? Yes—and, in the gratitude of
her generous soul, she already sees a god-like being in the Earl of
Ellingham."
"You will render me quite vain, Georgiana," said the young nobleman;
"for you are magnifying into glorious achievements a few very
common-place acts on my part."
"I am giving you your due for all that is great and noble in your
disposition—all that is excellent and estimable in your character,"
replied Lady Hatfield, in a tone of fervent sincerity. "And that you are
every thing I describe is so much the more to your credit, inasmuch as
you belong to a class not famous for good qualities. The aristocratic
sphere is characterised by intense selfishness—by a love of illegitimate
power—by an abhorrence of the inferior grades,—and by a hollowness of
heart which brings shame and reproach upon their hierarchy. When, then,
we find this corrupted and vicious sphere possessing a glorious
exception such as yourself, the world should be the more ready to
recognise your merits. But I will say no more on this head, my dear
Arthur," added Georgiana, with a smile, "for fear that you should think
I wish to coax you into following that counsel which I, ere now, so
seriously and so conscientiously gave you."
"And on that advice will I reflect deliberately," replied the Earl, who
could not conceal from himself that he was rejoiced it had been given.
"And now, Georgiana, I must take my leave of you for the present," he
added, rising from his seat: "for I have a commission of a somewhat
important nature to execute for my half-brother. Indeed, the mention
thereof reminds me that I have never made you acquainted with one of the
best traits in his character. But does it annoy you,—does it vex you to
hear me speak of him?"
"No—no," answered Georgiana, somewhat hurriedly. "Since I have known
that he is your brother, I have been pleased to hear you say as much
good of him as possible."
"And this incident to which I allude," continued the Earl, "is not the
least praiseworthy of the many fine deeds which must be placed to his
account on the bright side. It appears that about three months ago he
adopted a little boy under very peculiar circumstances. A poor woman
died suddenly, through want and exposure to the inclemency of the
weather, at an obscure house in Seven Dials. Rainford happened to be
there at the time, and he took compassion on the little boy whom this
poor woman had in charge. The boy was not the woman's child—as a certain
letter found upon the person of the female proved. This letter was at
first detained by those miserable wretches who so persecuted my poor
brother: but it subsequently fell into his hands; and he entrusted it to
a Mr. Clarence Villiers, in order that this gentleman might institute
inquiries relative to its contents. I am now about to seek Mr. Villiers,
and obtain the letter from him; because, it appears from all I have
heard, that it is indubitably addressed to some lady of title, although
no name be mentioned in it. In fact, the poor woman—whose name was Sarah
Watts——"
"Sarah Watts!" repeated Lady Hatfield, with an hysterical scream, a
deadly pallor overspreading her beautiful countenance.
"That is the name——But, my God! you are ill!"—and the Earl rushed
forward to catch Georgiana in his arms, as she was falling from her
chair.
He conveyed her to the sofa; but for some moments she seemed insensible.
He was about to summon her female attendants, when she opened her eyes,
glanced wildly around her, and then said in an excited tone, "Do not
ring for any one,—I shall be better in a minute—remain with me,
Arthur,—I have now much to tell you!"
Surprised and grieved at the effect which his words had produced on Lady
Hatfield—yet unable to comprehend wherefore the mere mention of a name
should have so seriously touched her feelings,—the Earl gazed upon her
with interest and curiosity.
At length a faint tinge of red appeared upon her cheeks; and, with
reviving strength, she sate up on the sofa, motioning the young nobleman
to take a chair near her.
"Arthur," she said, "I ought not to have kept that _one_ secret from
you—for are we not now brother and sister? But, alas! you—with your
generous heart and fine feelings—can well understand how painful it is
for me to speak of my own dishonour,—and the more so, since that
degradation—that deep disgrace was caused by _him_ who is nearly allied
to you."
"What! can it be possible?" exclaimed the Earl, a sudden light breaking
in upon him: "that child—that boy, whom Rainford has adopted as his
own——"
"Is mine!" said Georgiana, in a voice of despair;—and, covering her face
with her hands, she burst into an agony of tears.
The Earl of Ellingham started from his seat, and began to pace the room
in a manner denoting the most painful excitement.
He was, indeed, deeply afflicted.
How wronged—how profoundly wronged had Georgiana been!—and by _him_ who,
as she herself had said, was so nearly allied to him!
Oh! Tom Rain—Tom Rain! that was the darkest episode in thy life!
Thus thought the Earl likewise;—and bitter was his sorrow at the revival
of such appalling reminiscences as those which now rent Lady Hatfield's
heart with anguish, and called forth the floods of grief from her eyes.
"Arthur," at length she said, exercising a violent effort to subdue her
sorrow, "give not way to bitter reflection on my account. For _your_
sake, all has been forgiven—though it may never be forgotten; for memory
is immortal! But that child—that boy of whom you speak—he is indeed with
his own father; and Providence doubtless willed that it should be so!"
She paused, and stifled the sobs which rent her bosom.
"You may think me a cruel and heartless mother, Arthur," she resumed at
length, now speaking in a mournful, plaintive tone, "thus to have
abandoned my offspring: but reflect ere you blame me! I was as it were
alone in a house situated in a retired part of the country—a man entered
at night—he found his way to my chamber—he took advantage of my
loneliness——O God! how have I survived that disgrace—that infamy?
Desperate was my resistance—but vain: and the ravisher, as you already
know, was Rainford! Alas! pardon me if I then mentioned his name with
bitterness; but human patience could not speak it calmly when such a
cloud of crushing reminiscences come back to the soul."
Again she paused: the Earl remained silent. What could he say? He
loathed—he abhorred the conduct of his half-brother, whom he would not
attempt to justify;—and his good sense told him that it were worse than
mockery to aim at consoling the victim of that foul night of maddened
lust and atrocious rape.
"Some weeks afterwards," continued Lady Hatfield, in a voice scarcely
audible and deeply plaintive, "I found that I was in a way to become a
mother. You may conceive——But no: it is impossible to imagine the state
of mind into which this appalling conviction threw me. And yet I was
compelled to veil my grief as much as possible;—for at that time a
suspicion of my condition on the part of the world, would have driven me
to suicide. I need not—I could not enter into the details of the plan
which I had adopted to conceal my dishonour. Suffice it to say, that I
succeeded in so doing—and, in a small retired village, and under a
feigned name, did I give birth to a son. To Sarah Watts was the babe
confided;—and, for a sum of money paid down at once, she agreed to adopt
it as her own. By an accident she discovered who I was—my name was on an
article of jewellery which I had with me. But she promised the strictest
secrecy, and I put faith in her words. Oh! do not blame me, if I acted
as I have now described—if I abandoned that child whose presence near me
would only have been a proof of my dishonour, and a constant memorial of
the dread outrage which no levity—no encouragement—no fault on my part
had provoked!"
"Blame you, Georgiana!" exclaimed the Earl, approaching and taking her
hand kindly;—"how could I blame you? You acted as prudence dictated—and,
indeed, as circumstances inevitably compelled you. But—now that the
parentage of this child is at length discovered—how do you wish me to
act? Remember, Georgiana, every thing in this respect shall be managed
solely with regard to your wishes—solely according to your directions.
Shall I communicate in a letter to my half-brother the secret which has
thus strangely transpired this day?—or shall I leave him in ignorance of
the fact that he has adopted his own son?"
"He knew not that the outrage he perpetrated led to that consequence,"
said Lady Hatfield, now cruelly bewildered and uncertain how to decide.
"No—he could not even suspect it—for I never met him again until that
night on the Hounslow road—and even then I recognised him not—and it was
only at the police-office in Bow Street that I again beheld him who had
been my ruin!"
"I am convinced," observed the Earl, "that Rainford has not the least
suspicion that you indeed became a mother. And, oh! when I touched upon
the subject of his atrocious behaviour towards you—while we were in
Paris—had you seen the tears of contrition—heart-felt contrition which
he shed——But, no," added the Earl, suddenly interrupting himself,—"it
were impossible that you could forgive him!"
"I forgive him for _your_ sake, Arthur," said Georgiana, in a mild but
firm tone. "And now, relative to that child—yes—he shall know that he is
with his father; and your brother must be informed that he has adopted
his own son! Providence indeed seems to have so willed it; for we cannot
believe that accident alone threw the child thus wondrously into the way
of the author of its being. Arthur," she added, taking the young
nobleman's hand,—"you will write to Rainford—and you will tell him all.
It is not necessary to enjoin him to treat the child with kindness—for
you say that his disposition is naturally generous. Nevertheless—I
should wish," continued the lady, looking down as she uttered these
words, and sinking her voice almost to a whisper—for _maternal feelings_
were stirring within her bosom,—"nevertheless, I should wish that you
impress upon the mind of your half-brother the necessity of bringing
that child up in the paths of virtue and honour."
"Your wishes shall be complied with," answered the Earl. "But fear not
that Rainford would inculcate evil principles into the mind of his son.
No—he is thoroughly changed, and will become a good, and, I hope, a
happy and prosperous man."
The young nobleman then took leave of Lady Hatfield, whom he left a prey
to emotions of a very painful nature.
For deeply and tenderly did she love Arthur; and great violence did she
to her feelings when she so generously and conscientiously counselled
him to take the beautiful Jewess as his wife!
And as the Earl returned home to his mansion in Pall Mall, to pen a
letter to Rainford, who was then on his voyage, under an assumed name,
and accompanied by Tamar, Jacob Smith, and little Charley, to the United
States,—he reviewed all the details of that long and interesting
conversation which had that afternoon passed between Lady Hatfield and
himself;—and he found that the tendency thereof was to make him ponder
more seriously and more intently upon the image of the charming Esther
than he ever yet had done.
-----
Footnote 36:
We have been much gratified by observing that our attempt to vindicate
the Jews against most of the unjust charges which it seems to be a
traditionary fashion to level against them, has not passed unnoticed.
All the Jewish papers have quoted the exculpatory passage at page 172
of this Series of "THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON:" many provincial journals
have also transferred it to their columns; and in No. 173 of
_Chambers's Edinburgh Journal_ (New Series) it was printed, with the
following record of approval on the part of the Editors of that
well-conducted periodical:—"_We cordially agree in this manly defence
of a cruelly misrepresented people_."
In this enlightened age it is really horrible to think that the most
abominable prejudices should prevail amongst Christians against the
Jews. England boasts her high state of civilisation; and yet the Jews
labour under innumerable disabilities, which have been abolished in
France. After all, the French understand what civilisation really is
much better than the English. The idea of a Jew sitting in the House
of Commons would send all the Church party raving mad: but in France
there are many Jews in the Chamber of Deputies. The learned Selden
said very justly, "Talk what you will of the Jews, that they are
cursed, they thrive where'er they come; they are able to oblige the
prince of their country (and others too) by lending him money; none of
them beg: they keep together; and for their being hated, my life for
your's, Christians hate one another as much."
The worst feature in the malignant persecution and misrepresentation
of the Jews, is that the evil prejudice against them has been, and
still is, fostered by Christian Divines and Theological writers. A
Spanish theologian has placed on record the following infamous
specimen of malignity:—
"The tribe of Judah treacherously delivered up our Lord, and thirty of
them die by treason every year.
"The tribe of Reuben seized our Lord in the garden, and therefore the
curse of barrenness is on all they sow or plant, and no green thing
can flourish over their graves.
"The tribe of Gad put on the crown of thorns, and on every 25th of
March their bodies are covered with blood from deep and painful
wounds.
"Those of Asher buffeted Jesus, and their right hand is always nearly
a palm shorter than the left.
"Those of Napthali jested with Christ about a herd of swine, since
when they are all born with tusks like wild boars.
"The tribe of Manasseh cried out, 'His blood be on us and on our
children,' and at every new moon they are tormented by bloody sores.
"The tribe of Simeon nailed our Lord to the cross, and on the 25th of
March, four deep and dreadful wounds are inflicted on their hands and
feet.
"Those of Levi spat on the Saviour, and the wind always blows back
their saliva in their faces, so that they are habitually covered with
filth.
"The tribe of Issachar scourged Christ, and on the 25th of March blood
streams forth from their shoulders.
"The tribe of Zebulon cast lots for the garments, and on the same day
the roof of their mouth is tortured by deep wounds.
"The tribe of Joseph made the nails for crucifying Jesus, and blunted
them to increase his sufferings; and therefore their hands and feet
are covered with gashes and blood.
"Those of Benjamin gave vinegar to Jesus; they all squint and are
palsied, and have their mouths filled with little nauseous worms,
which, in truth (adds our author), is the case with all Jewish women
after the age of 25, because it was a woman who entreated the tribe of
Joseph not to sharpen the nails used for the crucifixion of our Lord."
* * * * *
That wretchedly prejudiced and unprincipled writer, Justin Martyr,
wrote as follows, while apostrophising the Jews:—
"God promised that you should be _as the sand on the sea shore_; and
so you are indeed, in more senses than one. You are as numerous, and
you are as barren, and incapable of producing any thing good."