The fatigue which Imogen had undergone in the preceding day, prepared
her to rest during the night with more tranquility than could otherwise
have been expected. The scenes to which she had successively been
witness, and the objects that now surrounded her, were too novel and
extraordinary in their character, to allow much room for the severity
of reflection, and the coolness of meditation. Her frame was tired with
the various exercises in which she had engaged; her mind was hurried
and perplexed without knowing upon what to fix, or in what manner to
account for the events that had befallen her: she therefore sunk
presently into a sweet and profound sleep; and while every thing seemed
preparing for her destruction, while a thousand enchantments were
essayed, and a thousand schemes revolved in the busy mind of Roderic,
she remained composed and unapprehensive. Innocence was the sevenfold
shield that protected her from harm; her eyes were closed in darkness,
and a smile of placid benignity played upon the lovely features of her
countenance.
Roderic in the mean time had retired to his chamber. His mind was
turbid and unquiet. So restless are the waves of the ocean before the
coming tempest. They assume a darker hue, and reflect a more cloudy
heaven. They roll this way and that in a continual motion, and yet
without any direction, till the loud and hoarse-echoing wind determines
their course and carries them in mountains to the sounding shore. The
mind of the victim was all quiet and unruffled; such is the kindly
influence of conscious truth. The mind of the ravisher exhibited
nothing but uneasiness and confusion; such are the boons which vice
bestows upon her misjudging votaries.
The conqueror, doubly misled by fierce and unruly passions and by his
inauspicious commerce with the goblins of the abyss, retired not
immediately to his couch, but walked up and down his apartments, with a
hasty and irregular step. “Thanks to my favourable stars,” exclaimed
he, “I am triumphant! What power can resist me? Where is the being that
shall dare to say, that one wish of my heart shall go unfulfilled? Well
then, I have got the fair the charming she into my power. She is shut
up in a palace, unseen by every human eye, to which no human foot ever
found its way but at my bidding. She is closed round with spells and
enchantment. I can by a word deprive her every limb of motion. If I but
wave this wand, the leaden God of sleep shall sink her in a moment in
the arms of forgetfulness, whatever were before her anxieties and her
wakeful terrors. In what manner then shall I, thus absolute and
uncontroled in all I bid exist, proceed? Shall I press the unwilling
beauty to my bosom, and riot in her hoard of charms, without waiting
like meaner mortals to sue for the consent of her will? There is
something noble, royal, and independent, in the thought. Beauty never
appears so attractive as from behind a veil of tears. Oh, how I enjoy
infancy [sic] the anger that shall flush her lovely cheek! Perhaps she
will even kneel to me to deprecate that which an education of
prejudices has taught her to consider as the worst of evils. Yes, my
lovely maid, I will raise thee. Do not turn from me those scornful
indignant eyes. I will be thy best friend. I will not hurt a hair of
thy head. Oh, when her spotless bosom pants with disdain, how sweet to
beat the little chiders, and by a friendly violence, which true and
comprehensive wisdom cannot stigmatize, to teach her what is the true
value of beauty, and for what purpose such enchanting forms as her’s
were sent to dwell below!”
Thus spoke the ravisher, and as he spoke he assumed, although alone, a
firmer stride and a more haughty crest. Upon the instant however his
ears were saluted with a low and continual sound, that became, by just
degrees, stronger and more strong. The walls of his palace shook; a
sudden and supernatural light gleamed along his apartment, and a
spectre stood before him. Roderic lifted up his eyes, and immediately
recognised the features of that goblin, who from the hour of his birth,
had declared himself his adversary. He had been repeatedly used to the
visits of this malicious spirit, who delighted to subvert all his
schemes, and to baffle his deepest projects. This was the only
misfortune, the sovereign of the hills had ever known; this was the
only instance in which he had at any time been taught what it was to
have his power controled and his nod unobeyed. He had often sought, by
means of the confederacy he held with other spirits of the infernal
regions, to restrain his enemy, or by punishment and suffering to make
him rue his opposition. But the goblin he had to encounter, though not
the most potent, was of all the rest the most crafty in his wiles, and
the most abundant in expedients. As many times as his fellows had by
the instigation of Roderic undertaken to encounter him, so often had
they in the end been eluded and defeated. The contest was now given up,
and the goblin was at liberty to haunt and threaten his impotant
adversary as much as he pleased.
“Roderic,” cried he, with a harsh and unpleasant accent, “I am come to
humble the haughtiness of thy triumph, and to pull down thy aspiring
thoughts. Impotent and rancorous mortal! Know, that innocence is
defended with too strong a shield for thee to pierce! Boast not thyself
of the immensity of thy walls, and put no confidence in the subtlety of
thy enchantments. Before the mightiness that waits on innocence, they
are not less impotent than the liquid wax, or the crumbling ruin.
Learn, oh presumptuous mortal, that sacred and unyielding chastity is
invulnerable to all the violence of men, and all the stratagems of
goblins. I would not name to thee so salutary an advice as to dismiss
thy innocent and unsuspicious prize, did not I know thee too obstinate
and headstrong to listen to the voice of wisdom. Essay then thy base
and low-minded temptations, thy corrupt and sophistical reasonings, to
tarnish the unsullied purity of her mind, and it is well. If by such a
wretch as thee she can be seduced from the obedience of virtue and the
Gods, then let her fall. She were then a victim worthy of thee. But if
thou essayest the means of tyranny and force, the attempt will be fatal
to thee. I will in that case enjoy my vengeance; I will triumph in thy
desolation. In the hour then of action and enterprise, remember me!”
With these words the spectre vanished from his sight. Roderic was
inflamed with anger and disgust; but he had none, upon whom to wreak
his revenge. His heart boiled with the impotence of malice. “What,”
cried he, “am I to be bounded and hedged in, in all my exploits? Am I
to be curbed and thwarted in every wish of my heart? This, this was
nearest to me. This was the first pursuit of my life in which my whole
heart was engaged; the first time I ever felt a passion that deserved
the name of love. But be it so: I was born with wild and impetuous
passions only to have them frustrated; I was endowed with supernatural
powers, and inherited all my mother’s skill, only to be the more
signally disappointed. Still however I will not shrink, I will not
yield an inch to my adversary. I am bid, it seems, to tempt her, and
endeavour to stain the purity of her mind. Yes, I will tempt her. It is
not for an artless and uninstructed shepherdess to defeat my wiles and
baffle all my incitements. I will dazzle her senses with all the
attractions that the globe of earth has to boast. I will wind me into
her secret heart. Thou damned, unpropitious goblin, who seekest to
oppose thyself to my happiness, I will but, by thy warning, gain a
completer triumph! I will subdue her will. She shall crown my wishes
with ripe, consenting beauty. Long shall she remain the empress of my
heart, and partner of my bed. In her I will hope to find those simple,
artless, and engaging charms, which in vain I have often sought in the
band of females, that reside beneath my roof, and wait upon my nod.”
Imogen, though considerably indisposed by the fatigue and terrors of
the preceding day, shook off however that placid and refreshing sleep
which had weighed down her eyelids, long before Roderic deserted the
couch of luxury. Two of the female attendants belonging to the castle
had slept in the same apartment with her, and soon, perceiving her in
motion, followed her example, and officiously pressed around her. One
of them took up a part of the garb of the fair shepherdess, and offered
to assist her in adjusting it. “I thank you,” cried Imogen, with the
utmost simplicity, “for your good-nature; but I am pretty well now; and
every body dresses herself that is not sick.” The inartificial
decorations of her person were quickly adjusted. The delicate
proportion of her limbs was hid beneath a russet mantle; her fair and
flowing tresses were disposed in a braid round her head, and she took
her straw hat in her hand. “Well,” said she, “I am obliged to you for
your favours. I dare say it was best for me, though at the time I
thought otherwise. For my head ached very much, and I was so weak—It
was wrong for me to think of going any farther.—Ah, but then, what have
my poor father and mother done all the while? Have not they missed
their Imogen, and wondered what was become of her, and been quite sad
and forlorn for fear she should have come to any harm? Well, I do not
know whether I was not right too. For their ease was of more
consequence than mine. I cannot tell. However I will not now keep them
in pain. So good morning to you, my dear kind friends!” And saying this
she was tripping away.
But as she drew towards the door, one of the attendants, with a gentle
force, took hold of her hand. “Do not go yet, sweet Imogen,” cried she.
“We want a little more of your company. We have done you all the
service in our power, and you have not paid us for it. We will not ask
any thing hard and unreasonable of you. Only comply with us in this one
thing, to stay with us a few hours, and let us know a little better the
worth of that amiable female we have endeavoured to oblige.” “Indeed,
indeed,” replied Imogen, “I cannot. I am not used to be obstinate; and
you are so kind and fair spoken, that it goes to my heart to refuse
you. But I would not for the world keep my dear, good Edith in a
moment’s suspense. But since you are so desirous of being acquainted
with me, repair as soon and as often as you please to my father’s cot,
that lies on the right hand side of the valley, about a mile from the
sea, and just beside the pretty brawling brook of Towey. There I will
treat you with the nicest apples and the richest cream. And I would
treat you with better, if I knew of any thing better, that I might
thank you for your goodness. Farewel!” added she, and affectionately
pressed the hand that was still untwined with her’s.
“No, Imogen, no, you must not leave us thus. Though we would have done
a thousand times more than we have for your own sake, who are so simple
and so good, it is yet fit that you should know, that we are not
mistresses here, and that all we have done has been by the orders of
the lord of this rich mansion. He will not therefore forgive us, if we
suffer you to depart before he has seen you, and expressed for you that
kindness which induced him to take you under his protection.”
“Heavens!” replied the shepherdess “this is all ceremony and folly, and
therefore cannot be of so much consequence as the peace of my father,
and the consolation of my mother. Tell him, that I thank him, and that
my father shall thank him too, if he will come to our hut. Tell him
that I am sorry for my foolish weakness, that gave him so much trouble,
and made me be so needlessly frightened, when we came to a place where
I have met with nothing but kindness; but I could not help it. And so
that is enough; for if my Edwin had been in his place, and had seen a
stranger shepherdess in the distress that I was, he would surely have
done as much.
“Say so to your lord, as you call him, for I would not seem ungrateful.
But yet I will thank you a great deal more than I do him. For what did
he do for me? He took me, and hurried me away, and paid no attention to
my tears and expostulations. Well, but I need not have been alarmed. So
it seems. But I did not like his looks; they were not kind and
good-natured, but fierce and frightful. And so as soon as he had
brought me here, much against my will, he went away and left me. So
much the better. And then you came and took care of me, and he desired
you to do so. That was well enough. But I am more obliged to you for
your kindness and assiduity, than I am to him only for thinking of it.
And then to tell you the truth, but I ought not to say so to you who
are his friends, there is something about him, I cannot tell what, that
does not please me at all. He looks discontented, and fierce, as if
there was no such thing as soothing and managing him. But why do I say
all this? Pray now let me go, let me go to my dear, dear mother.”
“Sweet Imogen,” replied the attendant, who seemed to take the lead in
the circle, “how lovely and amiable are you even in your resentments!
They are not with you a morose and gloomy sullenness brooding over
imaginary wrongs, and collecting venom and malice from every corner to
the heart. In your breast anger itself takes a milder form, and is
gentle, generous and gay. Yet why, my Imogen, should you harbour any
anger against your protector?”
Such was the honest and artless dialogue of Imogen. The attendants
rather endeavoured to beguile the time, by dexterously starting new
topics of conversation, upon which Imogen delivered her plain and
natural sentiments with the utmost sincerity, than to detain her by
open force. At length one of them slipped out, and hastened to acquaint
Roderic with the impatience of his prize, and to communicate to him the
substance of those artless hints, which, in the hands of so skilful and
potent an impostor, might be of the greatest service. Roderic
immediately rose. But as he was desirous to decorate his person with
the nicest skill, in order to make the most favourable impression upon
his mistress, he ordered the attendant, with some of her companions, to
wait upon Imogen. He commissioned them, if it were necessary, to inform
her of the absolute impossibility of her quitting the castle, and to
persuade her to walk in the meadows adjoining, that she might observe
the riches of their possessor; how fertile were the soil, and how fair
and numerous the flocks.
The patience of Imogen, in the mean time, was nearly exhausted. Her
simplicity could no longer be duped. Though unused to art, it was
impossible for her not at length to perceive the art by which the
conversation was lengthened, and her ardent desire to set out for the
cottage of her father, eluded. She was just beginning to expostulate
upon this ungenerous stratagem, when three or four of those females,
whom Roderic had dispatched entered the apartment. “Well,” cried
Imogen, “you have borne my message to my deliverer, now then let me
go.” “Our lord,” replied the attendant, “is just risen. He will but
adjust his apparel, and will immediately pay you those respects in
person which he can by no means think of omitting.” “Alas, alas,” cried
the shepherdess, half distressed, “what is the meaning of all this?
What is intended by a language so foreign to the homeliness of the
shepherd’s cot, and the admirable simplicity of pastoral life? I know
not what title I have, a poor, unpretending virgin, to the respects of
this lord; but surely if they meaned me well, they would be less hollow
and absurd. Would there not be much more respect, much more civility,
in permitting me to follow my own inclinations, without this arbitrary
and ungrateful restraint?” “Shepherdess,” replied the attendant, “we
are not used to dispute the orders of our master. We would oblige you
if it were in our power. Impute not therefore to us any thing
unfriendly; and as for Roderic, he is too good, and too amiable, not to
be able to satisfy you about his conduct the moment he appears.” “Your
master! and your lord!” replied Imogen, with a tone of displeasure, “I
understand not these words. The Gods have made all their rational
creatures equal. If they have made one strong and another weak, it is
for the purpose of mutual benevolence and assistance, and not for that
of despotism and oppression. Of all the shepherds of the valley, there
is not one that claims dominion and command over another. There is
indeed an obedience due from children to their parents, and from a wife
to her husband. But ye cannot be his children; for he is young and
blooming. And but one of you can be his wife; so that that cannot be
the source of his authority. What a numerous family has this Roderic?
Does that I wonder, make him happier than his fellows?”
“Imogen,” said one of the train, “will you walk with us along the
meadow, by the side of that hazel copse? The morning is delightful, the
sun shines with a mild and cheering heat, the lambs frisk along the
level green, and the birds, with their little throats, warble each a
different strain.” The mind of Imogen was highly susceptible to the
impression of rural beauties. She had that placid innocence, that sweet
serenity of heart, which best prepares us to relish them. Seeing
therefore, that she was a prisoner, and that it was in vain to struggle
and beat her wings against the wiry inclosure, she submitted. “Ah!
unjust, unkind associates!” exclaimed Imogen, “ye can obey the dictates
of a man, who has no right to your obedience, and ye can turn a deaf
ear to the voice of benevolence and justice! Set me at liberty. This
man has no right to see me, and I will not see him. I, that have been
used to wander as free as the inmates of the wood, or the winged
inhabitants of air, shall I be cooped up in a petty cage, have all my
motions dictated, and all my walks circumscribed? Indeed, indeed, I
will not. Imogen can never submit to so ignominious a restraint. She
will sooner die.”
“Why, my lovely maiden,” replied the other, “will you think so harshly
of our lord? He does not deserve these uncandid constructions; he is
all gentleness and goodness. Suspend therefore your impatience for a
moment. By and by you may represent to him your uneasiness, and he will
grant you all the wishes of your heart. Till then, amiable girl,
compose your spirits, and give us cause to believe, that you place that
confidence in us, which for the world we would not deserve to forfeit.”
During this conversation, they passed along a gallery, and, descending
by a flight of stairs, proceeded through one corner of a spacious
garden into the meadow. The mansion, as we have already said, stood
upon a rising ground, which was inclosed on every side by a circle of
hills, whose summits seemed to touch the clouds, and were covered with
eternal snow. Within this wider circumference was a second formed by an
impervious grove of oaks, which, though of no long standing, yet,
having been produced by magical art, had appeared from the first in
full maturity. Their vast trunks, which three men hand in hand could
scarcely span, were marked with many a scar, and their broad branches,
waving to the winds, inspired into the pious and the virtuous that
religious awe, which is one of the principal lessons of the Druidical
religion.
At no great distance, and close on one side to the majestic grove, was
a terrace, raised by the hand of art, so elevated, as to overlook the
tops of the trees as well as the turrets of the castle, and to afford a
complete prospect of all the grounds on this side the precipices. To
this terrace the attendants of Imogen led their charge, and from it she
surveyed the farms and granges of their lord. The view was diversified
by a number of little rills, that flowed down from the mountains, and
gave fertility and cheerfulness to the fields through which they
passed. The inclosures were some of them covered with a fine and rich
herbage, whose appearance was bright and verdant, and its surface
besprinkled with cowslips, king-cups, and daisies. Others of them were
interspersed with sheep that exhibited the face of sleekness and ease,
their fleeces large and ponderous, and their wool of the finest and
most admirable texture. Elsewhere you might see the cattle grazing. The
ox dappled with a thousand spots, which nature seemed to have applied
with a wanton and playful hand; the cow, whose udders were distended
with milk, that appeared to call for the interposition of the maidens
to lighten them of their store; and the lordly and majestic bull. With
them was intermingled the horse, whose limbs seemed to be formed for
speed and beauty. At a small distance were the stag with branching
horns, the timid deer, and the sportive, frisking fawn. Even from the
rugged precipices, that seemed intended by nature to lie waste and
useless, depended the shaggy goat and the tender kid. Beside all this,
Roderic had had communicated to him, by a supernatural afflatus, that
wondrous art, as yet unknown in the plains of Albion, of turning up the
soil with a share of iron, and scattering it with a small quantity of
those grains which are most useful to man, to expect to gather, after a
short interval, a forty-fold increase.
Every thing conspired to communicate to the prospect lustre and
attraction. The birds, with their various song, gave an air of
populousness and animation to the grove. By the side of the rivulets
were scattered here and there the huts of the shepherd and husbandman.
And though these swains were not, like the happy dwellers in the
valley, enlivened with freedom, and made careless and gay by conscious
innocence; yet were they skilful to give clearness and melody to the
slender reed; and the ploughman whistled as he drove afield. But that
in the landscape which most engrossed the attention and awakened the
curiosity of the tender Imogen, was the appearance of the fields of
corn. It was in her eye novel, agreeable, and interesting. The harvest
was near, and the effect of the object was at its greatest height. The
tall and unbending stalk overtopped by far the native herbage of the
meadow, and seemed to emulate the hawthorn and the hazel, which,
planted in even rows, secured the precious crop from the invasion of
the cattle. The ears were embrowned with the continual beams of the
sun, and, oppressed with the weight of their grain, bended from the
stalk. In a word, the whole presented to the astonished view a rich
scene of vegetable gold. Upon this delightful object the shepherdess
gazed with an unwearied regard. Respecting it she asked innumerable
questions, and made a thousand enquiries; and it almost seemed as if
her curiosity would never be satisfied. Such is the power of novelty
over the young and inexperienced, and such the influence of the
beautiful and transcendent beauties of nature upon the ingenuous and
uncorrupted mind. But it was not possible for the shepherdess,
interested as she was in the uneasiness, to which she knew that her
parents must be a prey, long to banish from her mind the affecting
consideration, or to divert her attention to another object, however
agreeable, or however fascinating.
She had just begun to renew her representations upon this head, when
Roderic approached. While he was yet at a distance, he appeared
graceful and gay, as the messenger of the God that grasps the lightning
in his hand. His stature was above the common size. His limbs were
formed with perfect symmetry; the fall of his shoulders was graceful,
and the whole contour of his body was regular and pleasing. Such was
the general effect of his shape, that though his advance was hesitating
and respectful, it was impossible to contemplate his person without the
ideas being suggested of velocity and swiftness. His presence and air
had the appearance of frankness, ingenuousness, and manly confidence.
The natural fire and haughtiness of his eye were carefully subdued, and
he seemed, at least to a superficial view, the very model of
good-nature and disinterested complaisance. His bright and flowing hair
parted on his brow, and formed into a thousand ringlets, waved to the
zephyrs as he passed along. There was something so delicate and
enchanting in his whole figure, as to tempt you to compare it to the
unspotted beauty of the hyacinth; at the same time that you rejoiced,
that it was not a beauty, frail and transient, as the tender flower,
but which promised a manly ripeness and a protracted duration.
Observing that the attention of those around her was suddenly diverted
from the intreaties she employed, Imogen turned her eye, in order to
discover the object that now engaged them. It was immediately met by
the graceful and amiable figure we have described. But to Imogen that
figure presented no such comeliness and beauty. For a moment indeed,
nature prevailed, and she could not avoid gazing, with a degree of
complacence, upon an object, to which the Goddess seemed to have
lavished all her treasures. But this sensation vanished, almost before
it was formed. The mind of the shepherdess was too deeply read in the
lessons of virtue, to acknowledge any beauty in that form, which was
not animated with truth, and in those features, which were not
illuminated with integrity and innocence. Notwithstanding her native
simplicity, and the unsuspecting confidence she was inclined to repose
in every individual of the human race, yet had the conduct of Roderic,
as she had already confessed, displeased her too deeply for her
immediately to assume towards him an unembarrassed and soothing
carriage. He had seized upon her by violence in a moment of
insensibility. He had carried her away without her consent. When she
recovered strength enough to expostulate upon this, he endeavoured, by
ambiguous expressions, to deceive her into an opinion, that he was
conducting her to the cottage of her father. Supposing that, for
reasons good and wise, he had introduced her into a strange place, she
could not be persuaded that those reasons subsisted for detaining her
contrary to her inclination. And independently of any individual
circumstances, there is a native and inexplicable antipathy between
virtue and vice. It is not in the nature of things, it is not within
the range of possibility, that they should coalesce and unite where
both of them exist in a decided manner, or an eminent degree. It was
not the babble of ignorance, it was by an unalterable law of her
nature, that Imogen had been displeased with the looks of him, who
meaned her destruction. The animation that dwells in the features of
virtue, is mild and friendly and lambent; but the sparkles that flash
from the eye of enterprising guilt, are momentary, and unrelenting, and
impetuous. The gentle and the inoffensive instantly feel how
uncongenial they are to their dispositions, and start back from them
with aversion and horror. Such were in some measure the sensations of
Imogen, upon the re-appearance of her betrayer. She turned from him
with unfeigned dislike, and was reluctantly kept in the same situation
till he ascended the terrace. As he drew nearer, Roderic seized the
hand of the lovely captive. In a tone of blandishment he expostulated
with her upon her unkind behaviour and unreasonable aversion. With all
that sophistry, that ingenious vice knows so well how to employ, he
endeavoured to evince that his conduct had been regulated by kindness,
rectitude and humanity. In the mean time the retinue withdrew to a
small distance. Imogen insisted upon not being left wholly alone with
her ravisher.
Able to perplex but not to subvert the understanding of his prize,
Roderic addressed her with the language of love. Naturally eloquent,
all that he now said was accompanied with that ineffable sweetness, and
that soft insinuation, that must have shaken the integrity of Imogen,
had her heart been less constant, and her bosom less glowed with the
enthusiasm of virtue. Her betrayer was conscious to a real, though a
degenerate flame, and was not reduced to feign an ardour he did not
feel. Recollecting however the pure manners, and the delicate and
ingenuous language to which Imogen had been inured among the
inhabitants of Clwyd, the subtle sorcerer did not permit an expression
to escape him, that could offend the chastest ear, or alarm the most
suspicious virtue. His love, ardent as it appeared, seemed to be
entirely under the government of the strictest propriety, and the most
unfeigned rectitude. He knew that the inspirations of integrity and the
lessons of education were not to be eradicated at once; and he
attempted not to gain the acquiescence of his captive by gross and
unsuitable allurements, unconcealed with the gilding of dexterity and
speciousness.
But his eloquence and his address were equally vain. In spite of the
beauty of his person and the urbanity of his manners, the shepherdess
received his declarations with coldness and aversion. She assured him
of the impossibility of his success, that she felt for him emotions
very different from those of partiality, and that her heart was
prepossessed for a more amiable swain. With that sweet simplicity, that
accompanied all she did, she endeavoured to dissuade him from the
pursuit of a hopeless and unreasonable passion; she enumerated to him
all the sources of enjoyment with which he was surrounded; she
intreated him not in the wantonness of opulence to disturb her humble
and narrow felicity; and she besought him in the most pathetic and
earnest language to dismiss her to freedom, contentment and her
parents.
The more she exerted herself to bend his resolution, and the more scope
she gave to the unstudied expression of her artless sentiments, the
more inextricably was the magician caught, and the more firm and
inexorable was his purpose. Perceiving however that he had little to
hope from the most skilful detail of the pleas of passion, he turned
the attention of the shepherdess to a different topic. “Behold Imogen,”
cried he, “the richness of the landscape on our right hand! The spot in
my eye is farthest from the castle, and divided from the rest of the
prospect with a tall hedge of poplars and alders. It is full of the
finest grass, and its soil is rich and luxuriant. It is scattered with
fleckered cows and dappled fawns. In the hither part of it is a field
of the choicest wheat, whose stalks are so rank and pregnant, that the
timid hare and the untamed fox can scarcely force themselves a path
among them. Beside it is an inclosure of barley with strong and pointed
spikes; and another of oats, whose grain, uneared, spreads broader to
the eye. How beautiful the scene! I will not ask you, fairest of your
sex, to give your confidence to unauthorised words. I will afford the
most unquestionable demonstration of the veracity of my declarations.
All these, lovely Imogen, shall be yours: yours exclusively, to be
disposed of at your pleasure, without the interference or control of
any. All my other possessions shall not belong to myself more than to
you. You shall be the mistress of my heart, and the associate of my
counsels. All my business shall be your gratification, all my pleasure
your happiness. Forget then, dearest maiden, the poverty of your former
condition, and the connections you formed in an hour of ignorance and
obscurity. From this moment let a new era and better prospects
commence. Enjoy that wealth, which can no where so well be bestowed;
and those gratifications, which so obviously belong to that delicate
and enchanting form.”
The proposal of Roderic called forth more than ever the spirit and the
resentment of Imogen. She did not feel herself in the slightest degree
attracted by the magnificence of his offers. She knew of no use for
superfluous riches. She felt no wants unsupplied, and no wishes
ungratified. What motive is there in the whole region of human
perceptions, that can excite the contented mind to the pursuit of
affluence? “And dost thou think,” said the fair one, with a gesture of
disdain that made her look ten times more amiable, “to seduce me with
baits like these? Know, mistaken man, that I am happy. I spin the
finest wool of our flocks, and drain the distended udders of our cows.
I superintend the dairies; the butter and the cheese are the produce of
my industry. In these employments my time is spent in chearfulness and
pleasure. Surrounded with our little possessions, I am conscious to no
deficiency; in the midst of my parents and friends, I desire not to
look beyond the narrow circle of the neighbouring hills. If you feel
those wants, which I do not so much as understand, enjoy your fond
mistake. Possess those riches which I will not envy you. Wander from
luxury to luxury unquestioned; I shall be sufficiently happy in the
narrow gratifications that nature has placed within my reach. The gifts
you offer me have no splendour in my eye, and I could not thank you for
them though offered with ever so much disinterestedness. The only gift
it is in your power to make is liberty. Allow me to partake of that
bounty, which nature has bestowed upon the choristers of the grove, to
wander where I will. Under a thousand of those privations that would
render the child of luxury inconsolable, I would support myself;
freedom and independence are the only boons which the whole course of
my life has taught me to cherish.”
“Your ignorance,” rejoined Roderic, “is amiable, though unfortunate.
But your merit is too great not to deserve to be informed. Knowledge,
my lovely maiden, is always regarded as a desirable acquisition by the
prudent and the judicious. To what purpose was a mind so capacious,
competent to the greatest improvements, and formed to comprehend
subjects of the most extensive compass, or the sublimest reach,
bestowed upon us, if it be not employed in the pursuits of science and
experience? Your abilities, my Imogen, appear to be of the very first
description. How much then will you be to be blamed, if you do not
embrace this opportunity of improvement and instruction? Beauty, though
unseen, is not less excellent; and prudence, though unpossessed, is of
value inestimable. The poor man may be contented, because he knows not
the use of riches; but, in spite of this contentment, it were wise to
enlarge our sphere of sensation, and to extend the sources of
happiness.
“If however you still maintain that lovely perverseness, decide if you
please upon your own fate, but let filial piety hinder you from
determining too hastily respecting that of your parents and your
friends. Consider what a new and unbounded scope will be afforded you,
by the participation of my riches, for the exercise of benevolent and
generous propensities. Your parents are now declining fast under the
weight of years and infirmity. It is in your power to make their bed of
down, and to enliven the ground they have yet to traverse with flowers.
It is yours to wrest the sheers from the hand of the weary and
over-laboured ancient, and to remove the distaff from the knees of your
venerable mother. Think, gentle shepherdess, before it be too late, of
the heart-felt pleasures that await the power to do good, when attended
with a virtuous inclination. When you wipe away the tear from the cheek
of distress, when you light up a smile in the eye of misery, think you,
that none of the comfort you administer will flow back in generous and
refreshing streams to your own heart? Are these exertions that Imogen
ought to contemplate with indifference? Is this a power that Imogen can
reject without deliberation?”
Imogen stood for a moment in a sweet and ingenuous state of suspense.
She had a native and indefeasible reverence for every thing that had
the remotest analogy to virtue, and she could not answer a proposal
that came recommended to her by that name with unhesitating
promptitude. She was too good and modest to assume an air of decision
where she did not feel it; she was too simple and unaffected, to
disguise that hesitation to which she was really conscious. “How false
and treacherous,” exclaimed she, “are your reasonings! Among the
virtuous inhabitants of the plain, every one seeks to influence another
by motives which are of weight with himself, and utters the sentiments
of his own heart. Where have you learned the disingenuous and faithless
arts you employ? To what purpose have you cultivated them, and whose
good opinion do you flatter yourself they will obtain for you? False,
perfidious Roderic! the more I see of you, the more I fear and despise
you.
“You would recommend to me your temptations under the colour of
knowlege. Has knowlege any charms for the debauched and luxurious? You
tell me we ought to enlarge our sphere of sensation, and to extend the
sources of happiness. Wisdom indeed, and mental improvements are
desirable. But the sage Druids have always taught me, that the mind is
the nobler part, that the body is to be kept in subjection, and that it
is not our business to seek its gratification beyond the bounds of
necessity and temperance. If I allowed myself to think that I wanted
more than I have, might not the possession of that more extend my
desires, till, from humble and bounded, they became insatiable? Were I
to dismiss those industrious pursuits by means of which my time now
glides so pleasantly, how am I sure that indolence and vacancy would
make me happier?
“To succour indeed the necessitous, and particularly my parents and
relations, is a consideration of more value. But ah, Roderic! though
you talk it so well, I am afraid it is a consideration foreign to your
character. For my parents, they are as yet healthful and active; and
while they continue so, they wish, no more than myself for repose and
indolence. If ever they become incapable of industry, their little
flock will still contribute to their support. They are too much
respected, for the neighbouring shepherds not to watch over it in turn
out of pure love. And, I hope, as I will then exert myself with double
vigour, that the Gods will bless us, and we shall do very well. As to
general distress, heaven is too propitious to us, to permit the
inhabitants of the valley to be overwhelmed by it. And I shall always
have milk from my flocks, and a cheese from my store, to set before the
hungry and necessitous.
“But were these advantages more valuable than they are, it would not be
my duty to purchase them so dear. What, shall I desert all the
connections it has been the business of my life to form, and that happy
state of simplicity I love so much? Shall I shake off the mutual vows I
have exchanged with the most amiable and generous of the swains, and
join myself to one, whose person I cannot love, and whose character I
cannot approve? No, Roderic, enjoy that happiness, if it deserve the
name of happiness, that is congenial to your inclination. Forget the
worthless and unreasonable passion, you pretend to have conceived, in
the multitude of gratifications that are within your reach. Envy not me
my straw-defended roof, my little flock, and my faithful shepherd. I
will never exchange them for all the temptations that the world can
furnish.”