CHAPTER XXXIV.
This incident necessarily produced a change in my views with regard tomy friend. Her fortune consisted of a few hundreds of dollars, which,frugally administered, might procure decent accommodation in thecountry. When this was consumed, she must find subsistence in tendingthe big wheel or the milk-pail, unless fortune should enable me to placeher in a more favourable situation. This state was, in some respects,but little different from that in which she had spent the former part ofher life; but, in her father's house, these employments were dignifiedby being, in some degree, voluntary, and relieved by frequent intervalsof recreation and leisure. Now they were likely to prove irksome andservile, in consequence of being performed for hire and imposed bynecessity. Equality, parental solicitudes, and sisterly endearments,would be wanting to lighten the yoke.
These inconveniences, however, were imaginary. This was the school inwhich fortitude and independence were to be learned. Habit, and thepurity of rural manners, would, likewise, create anew those ties whichdeath had dissolved. The affections of parent and sister would besupplied by the fonder and more rational attachments of friendship.These toils were not detrimental to beauty or health. What was to bedreaded from them was their tendency to quench the spirit of liberalcuriosity; to habituate the person to bodily, rather than intellectual,exertions; to supersede and create indifference or aversion to the onlyinstruments of rational improvement, the pen and the book.
This evil, however, was at some distance from Eliza. Her present abodewas quiet and serene. Here she might enjoy domestic pleasures andopportunities of mental improvement for the coming twelvemonth at least.This period would, perhaps, be sufficient for the formation of studioushabits. What schemes should be adopted for this end would be determinedby the destiny to which I myself should be reserved.
My path was already chalked out, and my fancy now pursued it withuncommon pleasure. To reside in your family; to study your profession;to pursue some subordinate or casual mode of industry, by which I mightpurchase leisure for medical pursuits, for social recreations, and forthe study of mankind on your busy and thronged stage, was the scope ofmy wishes. This destiny would not hinder punctual correspondence andoccasional visits to Eliza. Her pen might be called into action, and hermind be awakened by books, and every hour be made to add to her storesof knowledge and enlarge the bounds of her capacity.
I was spiritless and gloomy when I left ----; but reflections on myfuture lot, and just views of the situation of my friend, insensiblyrestored my cheerfulness. I arrived at Mr. Curling's in the evening, andhastened to impart to Eliza the issue of my commission. It gave heruneasiness, merely as it frustrated the design, on which she had fondlymused, of residing in the city. She was somewhat consoled by my promisesof being her constant correspondent and occasional visitor.
Next morning I set out on my journey hither, on foot. The way was notlong; the weather, though cold, was wholesome and serene. My spiritswere high, and I saw nothing in the world before me but sunshine andprosperity. I was conscious that my happiness depended not on therevolutions of nature or the caprice of man. All without was, indeed,vicissitude and uncertainty; but within my bosom was a centre not to beshaken or removed. My purposes were honest and steadfast. Every sensewas the inlet of pleasure, because it was the avenue of knowledge; andmy soul brooded over the world to ideas, and glowed with exultation atthe grandeur and beauty of its own creations.
This felicity was too rapturous to be of long duration. I graduallydescended from these heights; and the remembrance of past incidents,connected with the images of your family, to which I was returning, ledmy thoughts into a different channel. Welbeck and the unhappy girl whomhe had betrayed; Mrs. Villars and Wallace, were recollected anew. Theviews which I had formed, for determining the fate and affordingassistance to Clemenza, were recalled. My former resolutions with regardto her had been suspended by the uncertainty in which the fate of theHadwins was, at that time, wrapped. Had it not become necessary whollyto lay aside these resolutions?
That, indeed, was an irksome conclusion. No wonder that I struggled torepel it; that I fostered the doubt whether money was the onlyinstrument of benefit; whether caution, and fortitude, and knowledge,were not the genuine preservatives from evil. Had I not the means in myhands of dispelling her fatal ignorance of Welbeck and of those withwhom she resided? Was I not authorized, by my previous though slenderintercourse, to seek her presence?
Suppose I should enter Mrs. Villars's house, desire to be introduced tothe lady, accost her with affectionate simplicity, and tell her thetruth? Why be anxious to smooth the way? why deal in apologies,circuities, and innuendoes? All these are feeble and perverserefinements, unworthy of an honest purpose and an erect spirit. Tobelieve her inaccessible to my visit was absurd. To wait for thepermission of those whose interest it might be to shut out visitants wascowardice. This was an infringement of her liberty which equity and lawequally condemned. By what right could she be restrained fromintercourse with others? Doors and passages may be between her and me.With a purpose such as mine, no one had a right to close the one orobstruct the other. Away with cowardly reluctances and clownishscruples, and let me hasten this moment to her dwelling.
Mrs. Villars is the portress of the mansion. She will probably presentherself before me, and demand the reason of my visit. What shall I sayto her? The truth. To falter, or equivocate, or dissemble to this womanwould be wicked. Perhaps her character has been misunderstood andmaligned. Can I render her a greater service than to apprize her of theaspersions that have rested on it, and afford her the opportunity ofvindication? Perhaps she is indeed selfish and profligate; the betrayerof youth and the agent of lasciviousness. Does she not deserve to knowthe extent of her errors and the ignominy of her trade? Does she notmerit the compassion of the good and the rebukes of the wise? To shrinkfrom the task would prove me cowardly and unfirm. Thus far, at least,let my courage extend.
Alas! Clemenza is unacquainted with my language. My thoughts cannot makethemselves apparent but by words, and to my words she will be able toaffix no meaning. Yet is not that a hasty decision? The version from thedramas of Zeno which I found in her toilet was probably hers, and provesher to have a speculative knowledge of our tongue. Near half a year hassince elapsed, during which she has dwelt with talkers of English, andconsequently could not fail to have acquired it. This conclusion issomewhat dubious, but experiment will give it certainty.
Hitherto I had strolled along the path at a lingering pace. Time enough,methought, to reach your threshold between sunrise and moonlight, if myway had been three times longer than it was. You were the pleasingphantom that hovered before me and beckoned me forward. What a totalrevolution had occurred in the course of a few seconds! for thus longdid my reasonings with regard to Clemenza and the Villars require topass through my understanding, and escape, in half-muttered soliloquy,from my lips. My muscles trembled with eagerness, and I bounded forwardwith impetuosity. I saw nothing but a vista of catalpas, leafless,loaded with icicles, and terminating in four chimneys and a paintedroof. My fancy outstripped my footsteps, and was busy in picturing facesand rehearsing dialogues. Presently I reached this new object of mypursuit, darted through the avenue, noticed that some windows of thehouse were unclosed, drew thence a hasty inference that the house wasnot without inhabitants, and knocked, quickly and loudly, for admission.
Some one within crept to the door, opened it with seeming caution, andjust far enough to allow the face to be seen. It was the timid, pale,and unwashed face of a girl who was readily supposed to be a servant,taken from a cottage, and turned into a bringer of wood and water and ascourer of tubs and trenches. She waited in timorous silence thedelivery of my message. Was Mrs. Villars at home?
"No; she has gone to town."
Were any of her daughters within?
She could not tell; she believed--she thought--which did I want? MissHetty or Miss Sally?
"Let me see Miss Hetty." Saying this, I pushed gently against the door.The girl
, half reluctant, yielded way; I entered the passage, and,putting my hand on the lock of a door that seemed to lead into aparlour,--"Is Miss Hetty in this room?"
No; there was nobody there.
"Go call her, then. Tell her there is one who wishes to see her onimportant business. I will wait for her coming in this room." So saying,I opened the door, and entered the apartment, while the girl withdrew toperform my message.
The parlour was spacious and expensively furnished, but an air ofnegligence and disorder was everywhere visible. The carpet was wrinkledand unswept; a clock on the table, in a glass frame, so streaked andspotted with dust as scarcely to be transparent, and the indexmotionless, and pointing at four instead of nine; embers scattered onthe marble hearth, and tongs lying on the fender with the handle in theashes; a harpsichord, uncovered, one end loaded with _scores_, tumbledtogether in a heap, and the other with volumes of novels and plays, someon their edges, some on their backs, gaping open by the scorching oftheir covers; rent; blurred; stained; blotted; dog-eared; tables awry;chairs crowding each other; in short, no object but indicated theneglect or the ignorance of domestic neatness and economy.
My leisure was employed in surveying these objects, and in listeningfor the approach of Miss Hetty. Some minutes elapsed, and no one came. Areason for delay was easily imagined, and I summoned patience to wait. Iopened a book; touched the instrument; surveyed the vases on themantel-tree; the figures on the hangings, and the print of Apollo andthe Sibyl, taken from Salvator, and hung over the chimney. I eyed my ownshape and garb in the mirror, and asked how my rustic appearance wouldbe regarded by that supercilious and voluptuous being to whom I wasabout to present myself.
Presently the latch of the door was softly moved: it opened, and thesimpleton, before described, appeared. She spoke, but her voice was sofull of hesitation, and so near a whisper, that much attention wasneeded to make out her words:--Miss Hetty was not at home; she was goneto town with her _mistress_.
This was a tale not to be credited. How was I to act? She persisted inmaintaining the truth of it.--"Well, then," said I, at length, "tellMiss Sally that I wish to speak with her. She will answer my purposejust as well."
Miss Sally was not at home neither. She had gone to town too. They wouldnot be back, she did not know when; not till night, she supposed. It wasso indeed; none of them wasn't at home; none but she and Nanny in thekitchen: indeed there wasn't.
"Go tell Nanny to come here; I will leave my message with her." Shewithdrew, but Nanny did not receive the summons, or thought proper notto obey it. All was vacant and still.
My state was singular and critical. It was absurd to prolong it; but toleave the house with my errand unexecuted would argue imbecility andfolly. To ascertain Clemenza's presence in this house, and to gain aninterview, were yet in my power. Had I not boasted of my intrepidity inbraving denials and commands when they endeavoured to obstruct mypassage to this woman? But here were no obstacles nor prohibition.Suppose the girl had said truth, that the matron and her daughters wereabsent, and that Nanny and herself were the only guardians of themansion. So much the better. My design will not be opposed. I have onlyto mount the stair, and go from one room to another till I find what Iseek.
There was hazard, as well as plausibility, in this scheme. I thought itbest once more to endeavour to extort information from the girl, andpersuade her to be my guide to whomsoever the house contained. I put myhand to the bell and rung a brisk peal. No one came. I passed into theentry, to the foot of a staircase, and to a back-window. Nobody waswithin hearing or sight.
Once more I reflected on the rectitude of my intentions, on thepossibility that the girl's assertions might be true, on the benefits ofexpedition, and of gaining access to the object of my visit withoutinterruption or delay. To these considerations was added a sort ofcharm, not easily explained, and by no means justifiable, produced bythe very temerity and hazardness accompanying this attempt. I thought,with scornful emotions, on the bars and hinderances which pride, andcaprice, and delusive maxims of decorum, raise in the way of humanintercourse. I spurned at these semblances and substitutes of honesty,and delighted to shake such fetters into air and trample suchimpediments to dust. I wanted to see a human being, in order to promoteher happiness. It was doubtful whether she was within twenty paces ofthe spot where I stood. The doubt was to be solved. How? By examiningthe space. I forthwith proceeded to examine it. I reached the secondstory. I approached a door that was closed. I knocked. After a pause, asoft voice said, "Who is there?"
The accents were as musical as those of Clemenza, but were in otherrespects different. I had no topic to discuss with this person. Ianswered not, yet hesitated to withdraw. Presently the same voice wasagain heard:--"What is it you want? Why don't you answer? Come in!" Icomplied with the command, and entered the room.
It was deliberation and foresight that led me hither, and not chance orcaprice. Hence, instead of being disconcerted or vanquished by theobjects that I saw, I was tranquil and firm. My curiosity, however, mademe a vigilant observer. Two females, arrayed with voluptuous negligence,in a manner adapted to the utmost seclusion, and seated in a carelessattitude on a sofa, were now discovered.
Both darted glances at the door. One, who appeared to be the youngest,no sooner saw me, than she shrieked, and, starting from her seat,betrayed in the looks which she successively cast upon me, on herself,and on the chamber, whose apparatus was in no less confusion than thatof the apartment below, her consciousness of the unseasonableness ofthis meeting.
The other shrieked likewise, but in her it seemed to be the token ofsurprise rather than that of terror. There was, probably, somewhat in myaspect and garb that suggested an apology for this intrusion, as arisingfrom simplicity and mistake. She thought proper, however, to assume theair of one offended, and, looking sternly,--"How now, fellow," said she,"what is this? Why come you hither?"
This questioner was of mature age, but had not passed the period ofattractiveness and grace. All the beauty that nature had bestowed wasstill retained, but the portion had never been great. What she possessedwas so modelled and embellished by such a carriage and dress as to giveit most power over the senses of the gazer. In proportion, however, asit was intended and adapted to captivate those who know none butphysical pleasures, it was qualified to breed distaste and aversion inme.
I am sensible how much error may have lurked in this decision. I hadbrought with me the belief of their being unchaste; and seized, perhapswith too much avidity, any appearance that coincided with myprepossessions. Yet the younger by no means inspired the same disgust;though I had no reason to suppose her more unblemished than the elder.Her modesty seemed unaffected, and was by no means satisfied, like thatof the elder, with defeating future curiosity. The consciousness of whathad already been exposed filled her with confusion, and she would haveflown away, if her companion had not detained her by some degree offorce. "What ails the girl? There's nothing to be frightened at.Fellow!" she repeated, "what brings you here?"
I advanced and stood before them. I looked steadfastly, but, I believe,with neither effrontery nor anger, on the one who addressed me. I spokein a tone serious and emphatical. "I come for the sake of speaking to awoman who formerly resided in this house, and probably resides herestill. Her name is Clemenza Lodi. If she be here, I request you toconduct me to her instantly."
Methought I perceived some inquietude, a less imperious and moreinquisitive air, in this woman, on hearing the name of Clemenza. It wasmomentary, and gave way to peremptory looks. "What is your business withher? And why did you adopt this mode of inquiry? A very extraordinaryintrusion! Be good enough to leave the chamber. Any questions proper tobe answered will be answered below."
"I meant not to intrude or offend. It was not an idle or impertinentmotive that led me hither. I waited below for some time after solicitingan audience of you through the servant. She assured me you were absent,and laid me under the necessity of searching for Clemenza Lodi myself,and without a guide. I am anxious
to withdraw, and request merely to bedirected to the room which she occupies."
"I direct you," replied she, in a more resolute tone, "to quit the roomand the house."
"Impossible, madam," I replied, still looking at her earnestly; "leavethe house without seeing her! You might as well enjoin me to pull theAndes on my head!--to walk barefoot to Pekin! Impossible!"
Some solicitude was now mingled with her anger. "This is strangeinsolence! unaccountable behaviour!--begone from my room! will youcompel me to call the gentlemen?"
"Be not alarmed," said I, with augmented mildness. There was, indeed,compassion and sorrow at my heart, and these must have somewhatinfluenced my looks. "Be not alarmed. I came to confer a benefit, not toperpetrate an injury. I came not to censure or expostulate with you,but merely to counsel and aid a being that needs both; all I want is tosee her. In this chamber I sought not you, but her. Only lead me to her,or tell me where she is. I will then rid you of my presence."
"Will you compel me to call those who will punish this insolence as itdeserves?"
"Dearest madam! I compel you to nothing. I merely supplicate. I wouldask you to lead me to these gentlemen, if I did not know that there arenone but females in the house. It is you who must receive and complywith my petition. Allow me a moment's interview with Clemenza Lodi.Compliance will harm you not, but will benefit her. What is yourobjection?"
"This is the strangest proceeding! the most singular conduct! Is this aplace fit to parley with you? I warn you of the consequence of staying amoment longer. Depend upon it, you will sorely repent it."
"You are obdurate," said I, and turned towards the younger, who listenedto this discourse in tremors and panic. I took her hand with an air ofhumility and reverence. "Here," said I, "there seems to be purity,innocence, and condescension. I took this house to be the temple ofvoluptuousness. Females I expected to find in it, but such only astraded in licentious pleasures; specious, perhaps not destitute oftalents, beauty, and address, but dissolute and wanton, sensual andavaricious; yet in this countenance and carriage there are tokens ofvirtue. I am born to be deceived, and the semblance of modesty isreadily assumed. Under this veil, perhaps, lurk a tainted heart anddepraved appetites. Is it so?"
She made me no answer, but somewhat in her looks seemed to evince thatmy favourable prepossessions were just. I noticed likewise that thealarm of the elder was greatly increased by this address to hercompanion. The thought suddenly occurred that this girl might be incircumstances not unlike those of Clemenza Lodi; that she was notapprized of the character of her associates, and might by this meetingbe rescued from similar evils.
This suspicion filled me with tumultuous feelings. Clemenza was for atime forgotten. I paid no attention to the looks or demeanour of theelder, but was wholly occupied in gazing on the younger. My anxiety toknow the truth gave pathos and energy to my tones while I spoke:--
"Who, where, what are you? Do you reside in this house? Are you a sisteror daughter in this family, or merely a visitant? Do you know thecharacter, profession, and views of your companions? Do you deem themvirtuous, or know them to be profligate? Speak! tell me, I beseech you!"
The maiden confusion which had just appeared in the countenance of thisperson now somewhat abated. She lifted her eyes, and glanced by turns atme and at her who sat by her side. An air of serious astonishmentoverspread her features, and she seemed anxious for me to proceed. Theelder, meanwhile, betrayed the utmost alarm, again upbraided myaudacity, commanded me to withdraw, and admonished me of the danger Iincurred by lingering.
I noticed not her interference, but again entreated to know of theyounger her true state. She had no time to answer me, supposing her notto want the inclination, for every pause was filled by the clamorousimportunities and menaces of the other. I began to perceive that myattempts were useless to this end, but the chief and most estimablepurpose was attainable. It was in my power to state the knowledge Ipossessed, through your means, of Mrs. Villars and her daughters. Thisinformation might be superfluous, since she to whom it was given mightbe one of this licentious family. The contrary, however, was notimprobable, and my tidings, therefore, might be of the utmost moment toher safety.
A resolute and even impetuous manner reduced my incessant interrupter tosilence. What I had to say, I compressed in a few words, and adhered toperspicuity and candour with the utmost care. I still held the hand thatI had taken, and fixed my eyes upon her countenance with a steadfastnessthat hindered her from lifting her eyes.
"I know you not; whether you be dissolute or chaste, I cannot tell. Ineither case, however, what I am going to say will be useful. Let mefaithfully repeat what I have heard. It is mere rumour, and I vouch notfor its truth. Rumour as it is, I submit it to your judgment, and hopethat it may guide you into paths of innocence and honour.
"Mrs. Villars and her three daughters are Englishwomen, who supportedfor a time an unblemished reputation, but who, at length, were suspectedof carrying on the trade of prostitution. This secret could not beconcealed forever. The profligates who frequented their house betrayedthem. One of them, who died under their roof, after they had withdrawnfrom it into the country, disclosed to his kinsman, who attended hisdeath-bed, their genuine character.
"The dying man likewise related incidents in which I am deeplyconcerned. I have been connected with one by name Welbeck. In his houseI met an unfortunate girl, who was afterwards removed to Mrs. Villars's.Her name was Clemenza Lodi. Residence in this house, under the controlof a woman like Mrs. Villars and her daughters, must be injurious to herinnocence, and from this control I now come to rescue her."
I turned to the elder, and continued,--"By all that is sacred, I adjureyou to tell me whether Clemenza Lodi be under this roof! If she be not,whither has she gone? To know this I came hither, and any difficulty orreluctance in answering will be useless; till an answer be obtained, Iwill not go hence."
During this speech, anger had been kindling in the bosom of this woman.It now burst upon me in a torrent of opprobrious epithets. I was avillain, a calumniator, a thief. I had lurked about the house, tillthose whose sex and strength enabled them to cope with me had gone. Ihad entered these doors by fraud. I was a wretch, guilty of the lastexcesses of insolence and insult.
To repel these reproaches, or endure them, was equally useless. Thesatisfaction that I sought was only to be gained by searching the house.I left the room without speaking. Did I act illegally in passing fromone story and one room to another? Did I really deserve the imputationsof rashness and insolence? My behaviour, I well know, was ambiguous andhazardous, and perhaps wanting in discretion, but my motives wereunquestionably pure. I aimed at nothing but the rescue of a humancreature from distress and dishonour.
I pretend not to the wisdom of experience and age; to the praise offorethought or subtlety. I choose the obvious path, and pursue it withheadlong expedition. Good intentions, unaided by knowledge, will,perhaps, produce more injury than benefit, and therefore knowledge mustbe gained, but the acquisition is not momentary; is not bestowed unaskedand untoiled for. Meanwhile, we must not be inactive because we areignorant. Our good purposes must hurry to performance, whether ourknowledge be greater or less.
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