| | 1 | Author: | Fay
Theodore S.
(Theodore Sedgwick)
1807-1898 | Add | | | Title: | The Countess Ida  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | It was six when Claude returned to his hotel. He
was met at the door by his friend Denham, who had just
arrived from London. Of all men, he was the one he
most esteemed and loved. He was, in some respects,
the antithesis of Claude, and it was, perhaps, this very
difference which made them more attached to each
other. He was totally without Claude's contemplative
habits, but usually acted from impulses which, if
not always prudent or wise, were always noble. He
was frank, generous, and bold; full of strong affections
and quick passions; a faithful friend, and a good
hater. In one respect he differed widely from his
friend. He held duelling to be a custom, under certain
circumstances, sanctioned by necessity, and useful
in its effects upon society. Without any particularly
serious views of religion, he professed to believe
that, in the present state of the world, the meek doctrines
of Christianity were permitted at times to give
way to other considerations bearing upon individual
character and the general harmony of society; in short,
he was also a duellist, though in a far different way
from the debauched, vindictive, and cruel Elkington.
The latter adopted the principle as a mode of shielding
himself in a course of profligacy, and of acquiring
a notoriety of which a purer mind or a more generous
heart would have been ashamed; the former as a
means of protecting his person from insult and his
name from calumny, and of redressing all unjust injuries
directed either against himself or his friends.
He thought the world was thronged with persons who
might be regarded as beasts of prey, ready to attack
those not prepared with means of physical defence,
and that the same principle which permitted a traveller
to use a pistol against a highwayman, allowed a
resort to the same weapon against those who, by force
or fraud, encroached too far on the rights and feelings
of a gentleman. This subject had often been discussed
between these two young men, who each respected,
while he opposed the opinion of the other. “This will only be put into your hands in case of
my death. You will, before then, be informed on the
circumstances which produce it. I saw you struck
last night, and I lost all prudence; I interfered, and
received a blow myself. I have always been brought
up to think a blow ought not to be borne. Death is
preferable to dishonour. I know Elkington is a shot,
but I can't help it. The custom of society must be
complied with. Do not blame me, my wiser and more
thoughtful friend. You have your opinion, I mine.
I am determined to kill Elkington if I can, unless he
make me the humblest apology. This is not to be
expected, and I am prepared to fall. I need not say
that I have not called on you to arrange the thing for
me, as I know you would have taken measures to prevent
it; otherwise there is no man on earth I should
so readily have chosen. Beaufort I had a slight acquaintance
with, and he consented at once. “I am about leaving Berlin, but cannot do so without
performing a certain duty to myself, the necessity
of which imboldens me to address this request to you.
It is also proper that your generous confidence in me
should be confirmed; and I beg therefore to enclose to
you the accompanying letter from the Marquis of
E—; a gentleman, I believe, whom Count Carolan
corresponds with, and whose opinions may have some
weight. I have a kind of right to press this letter
on Count Carolan, who has openly exhibited an acquiescence
in the misstatements of Elkington. I leave
to his own sense of right the task of protecting my
name hereafter. As to my courage—a suspicion of
it can only be removed by those occasions which Providence
sends, enough to try the temper of our souls
on earth, and to furnish us an opportunity to display it
to the world when vanity requires. If circumstances
have raised a doubt of mine, it is a misfortune which,
like shipwreck or pestilence, every man is liable to,
and which, if chance does not remedy it, patience must
endure. Having deliberately adopted a principle upon
this point, I shall adhere to it and abide the consequences.
From all other doubts the letter of the Marquis
of E— rescues me; and, after perusing it, Count
Carolan will at least do me the justice to express himself
satisfied, and to acknowledge that my past life has
been as irreproachable as it has been unfortunate. “I enclose the letter of the Marquis of E—, as well
as your own, without any other reply to the `demand'
you make for an acknowledgment of `error' than
that men's opinions are their own, and differ in many
points more doubtful and important. There is an account
at my banker's of £50, which I will thank you
to settle. “We beg to inform you, for your government, that
the sum hitherto deposited in our hands on your account
has been withheld for the ensuing year, and we
are instructed that it will not hereafter be continued. “I have been now in prison two months. I am ill
—without money, without food—reduced to the common
fare of the unhappy inmates of this mournful
dwelling. I have to inform you, also, that a fatal pestilence
has broken out in the building, and carried off
three victims in two days. I request you, in the name
of humanity, to release me. I offer you my word of
honour not to leave Berlin without paying you. If
your object is to get the money, you can never succeed
by keeping me here. If your object is to humble
my pride, it is humbled as far as a man's should
be. If you desire my life—unless I can breathe the
air and take a little exercise, your desire will speedily
be gratified. My freedom—if you grant it—I shall
employ in honourable labour, of which you shall have
the first fruits. Believe me, sir, incapable of falsehood. “I have committed the account against you to my
lawyer, who has already received his instructions, and
I cannot interfere with what now belongs entirely to
him. “At the request of the Marquis of E—, and for his
account, we hereby open a credit with you in favour of
Mr. Claude Wyndham, for £1000 sterling, say one
thousand pounds sterling, which you will please to
supply him with, as he may require the same, on his
presenting to you this letter. “You, who have borne adversity with greatness, will,
I trust, meet prosperity with dignity. I have at length
succeeded in throwing back the veil which Heaven in
its wisdom had allowed to fall over us. You are, as
from the first moment my secret presentiment might
have taught me, the child of my bosom. Enclosed is
a package which I have prepared for you. It reveals
your history and mine. I would give you no intimation
of my convictions till they were confirmed. Not
from my hand should you receive a new disappointment.
The bill which accompanies this is your own.
Do not hesitate to use it. It is but a small part of the
inheritance of which you are now the master. Your
father was the Earl of Beverly. That title is now
yours. He has just expired, having previously completed
all the arrangements essential to your undisputed
assumption of his titles and estates. This great
blessing of Providence I am fain to receive as a reward
for a life spent in the path of right; but, in receiving
it, let us not forget that all earthly blessings come
mixed with calamity, and that there is no state of steady
happiness but beyond the grave. I write to you calmly,
my beloved son, from the very intensity of my feelings.
I did not put pen to paper till I had calmed
them by prayer, and sought from Him who gives and
takes away the strength necessary to support me in
this mixed hour of joy and sorrow. I have much to
tell you, and my bosom yearns to hold you again, my
son! Come to me as soon as you can, without neglecting
duties more imperative. I have seen you sorely
tried, and I know you to be equal to your own guidance;
but remember that life is short, and the greatest
happiness I can now know is your society. Everything
is arranged for you without trouble. On reaching
London you will drive to your own mansion in
Grosvenor Square, lately occupied by your father,
and just as he left it. The Marquis of E— acts as
your agent till your arrival, and begs me to say how
profoundly he rejoices at this important change in your
prospects. Come, my son! I would repeat the sacred
name, and I would repeat ever, to the Disposer
of human events, my prayer of grateful thanks for
being permitted to write myself—your affectionate, “Having just despatched a line to your father, I avail
myself of a last moment to tell you I am in London,
well and happy. I have heard all by the attentive care
of Mr. Wyndham. I know that your father's and uncle's
splendid fortunes are entirely sacrificed, but I
know also that you are safe, and that makes me happy.
Yes, my child, we are beggars—we have nothing; but
we shall meet in an hour, and this thought makes all
misfortunes supportable. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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