 | CHAPTER XIII. Ormond, or, The secret witness |  |
13. CHAPTER XIII.
He resided in New-York some time before he
took up his abode in Philadelphia. He had some
pecuniary concerns with a merchant of that
place. He occasionally frequented his house,
finding, in the society which it afforded him,
scope for amusing speculation, and opportunities
of gaining a species of knowledge of which at
that time he stood in need. There was one
daughter of the family who of course constituted
a member of the domestic circle.
Helena Cleves was endowed with every feminine
and fascinating quality. Her features were
modified by the most transient sentiments and
were the seat of a softness at all times blushful
and bewitching. All those graces of symmetry,
smoothness and lustre, which assemble in the
imagination of the painter when he calls from the
blended their perfections in the shape, complexion
and hair of this lady. Her voice was naturally
thrilling and melodious, and her utterance
clear and distinct. A musical education had
added to all these advantages the improvements
of art, and no one could swim in the dance with
such airy and transporting elegance.
It is obvious to enquire whether her mental,
were, in any degree, on a level with her exterior
accomplishments. Should you listen to her
talk, you would be liable to be deceived in this
respect. Her utterance was so just, her phrases
so happy, and her language so copious and correct,
that the hearer was apt to be impressed
with an ardent veneration of her abilities, but the
truth is, she was calculated to excite emotions
more voluptuous than dignified. Her presence
produced a trance of the senses rather than an illumination
of the soul. It was a topic of wonder
how she should have so carefully separated the
husk from the kernel, and be so absolute a mistress
of the vehicle of knowledge, with so slender
means of supplying it: Yet it is difficult to judge
but from comparison. To say that Helena
Cleves was silly or ignorant would be hatefully
unjust. Her understanding bore no disadvantageous
comparison with that of the majority of her
sex, but when placed in competition with that of
some eminent females or of Ormond, it was exposed
to the risque of contempt.
This lady and Ormond were exposed to mutual
examination. The latter was not unaffected by
the radiance that environed this girl, but her
true character was easily discovered, and he was
accustomed to regard her merely as an object
charming to the senses. His attention to her was
dictated by this principle. When she sung or
to be captivated with her music and her elocution:
But these were the limits which he set to his
gratifications. That sensations of a different kind,
never ruffled his tranquility must not be supposed,
but he too accurately estimated their consequences
to permit himself to indulge them.
Unhappily the lady did not exercise equal fortitude.
During a certain interval Ormond's visits
were frequent, and she insensibly contracted for
him somewhat more than reverence. The tenour
of his discourse was little adapted to cherish her
hopes. In the declaration of his opinions he was
never withheld by scruples of decorum, or a selfish
regard to his own interest. His matrimonial
tenets were harsh and repulsive. A woman of
keener penetration would have predicted from
them, the disappointment of her wishes, but Helena's
mind was uninnured to the discussion of logical
points and the tracing of remote consequences.
His presence inspired feelings which would
not permit her to bestow an impartial attention
on his arguments. It is not enough to say that
his reasonings failed to convince her: The combined
influence of passion and an unenlightened
understanding hindered her from fully comprehending
them. All she gathered was a vague
conception of something magnificent and vast in
his character.
Helena was destined to experience the vicissitudes
of fortune. Her father died suddenly and
left her without provision. She was compelled
to accept the invitations of a kinswoman, and
live, in some sort, a life of dependance. She
was not qualified to sustain this reverse of fortune,
in a graceful manner. She could not bear
the diminution of her customary indulgences,
and to these privations were added the inquietudes
an aspect of hopelessness.
These events happened in the absence of Ormond.
On his return he made himself acquainted
with them. He saw the extent of this misfortune
to a woman of Helena's character, but knew
not in what manner it might be effectually obviated.
He esteemed it incumbent on him to pay
her a visit in her new abode. This token at least
of respect or remembrance his duty appeared to
prescribe.
This visit was unexpected by the lady. Surprise
is the enemy of concealment. She was oppressed
with a sense of her desolate situation.
She was sitting in her own apartment in a museful
posture. Her fancy was occupied with the
image of Ormond, and her tears were flowing at
the thought of their eternal separation, when he
entered softly and unperceived by her. A tap
upon the shoulder was the first signal of his presence.
So critical an interview could not fail of
unveiling the true state of the lady's heart. Ormond's
suspicions were excited, and these suspicions
speedily led to an explanation.
Ormond retired to ruminate on this discovery.
I have already mentioned his sentiments respecting
love. His feelings relative to Helena did
not contradict his principles, yet the image which
had formerly been exquisite in loveliness, had
now suddenly gained unspeakable attractions.
This discovery had set the question in a new
light. It was of sufficient importance to make
him deliberate. He reasoned somewhat in the
following manner.
Marriage is absurd. This flows from the general
and incurable imperfection of the female character.
No woman can possess that worth which
would induce me to enter into this contract, and
to her society. This opinion may possibly
be erroneous, but it is undoubtedly true with respect
to Helena, and the uncertainty of the position
in general, will increase the necessity of
caution in the present case. That woman may
exist whom I should not fear to espouse. This is
not her. Some accident may cause our meeting.
Shall I then disable myself, by an irrevocable obligation,
from profiting by so auspicious an occurrence?
This girl's society was to be enjoyed in one of
two ways. Should he consult his inclination
there was little room for doubt. He had never
met with one more highly qualified for that spccies
of intercourse which he esteemed rational.
No man more abhored the votaries of licentiousness.
Nothing was more detestable to him than
a mercenary alliance. Personal fidelity and the
existence of that passion, of which he had, in the
present case, the good fortune to be the object,
were indispensible in his scheme. The union
was indebted for its value on the voluntariness
with which it was formed, and the entire acquiescence
of the judgment of both parties in its rectitude.
Dissimulation aud artifice were wholly
foreign to the success of his project. If the lady
thought proper to assent to his proposal, it was
well. She did so because assent was more eligible
than refusal.
She would, no doubt, prefer marriage. She
would deem it more conducive to happiness.
This was an error. This was an opinion, his reasons
for which he was at liberty to state to her;
at least it was justifiable in refusing to subject
himself to loathsome and impracticable obligations.
Certain inconveniences attended women
of law, but these were imaginary. They owed
their force to the errors of the sufferer. To annihilate
them, it was only necessary to reason
justly, but allowing these inconveniences their
full weight and an industructable existance, it was
but a choice of evils. Were they worse in this
lady's apprehension, than an eternal and hopeless
separation? Perhaps they were. If so, she
would make her election accordingly. He did
nothing but lay the conditions before her. If his
scheme should obtain the concurrence of her unbiassed
judgment he should rejoice. If not, her
conduct should be uninfluenced by him. Whatever
way she should decide, he would assist her
in adhering to her decision, but would, meanwhile,
furnish her with the materials of a right
decision.
This determination was singular. Many will
regard it as incredible. No man, it will be thought
can put this deception on himself, and imagine
that there was genuine beneficence in a scheme
like this. Would the lady more consult her happiness
by adopting than by rejecting it? There
can be but one answer. It cannot be supposed
that Ormond, in stating this proposal, acted with
all the impartiality that he pretended; that he did
not employ falacious exaggerations and ambiguous
expedients; that he did not seize every opportunity
of triumphing over her weakness, and building
his success rather on the illusions of her heart
than the convictions of her understanding. His
conclusions were specious but delusive, and were
not uninfluenced by improper byasses; but of
this he himself was scarcely conscious, and it must
be, at least, admitted that he acted with serupulous
sincerity.
An uncommon degree of skill was required to
introduce this topic so as to avoid the imputation
of an insult. This scheme was little in unison
with all her preconceived notions. No doubt,
the irksomeness of her present situation, the allurements
of luxury and ease, which Ormond had
to bestow, and the revival of her ancient independance
and security, had some share in dictating
her assent.
Her concurrence was by no means cordial and
unhesitating. Remorse and the sense of dishonor
pursued her to her retreat, though chosen with
a view of shunning their intrusions, and it was
only when the reasonings and blandishments of
her lover were exhibited, that she was lulled into
temporary tranquility.
She removed to Philadelphia. Here she enjoyed
all the consolations of opulence. She was mistress
of a small but elegant mansion. She possessed
all the means of solitary amusement, and frequently
enjoyed the company of Ormond. These
however were insufficient to render her happy.
Certain reflections might, for a time, be repressed
or divested of their sting, but they insinuated
themselves at every interval, and imparted to
her mind, a hue of dejection from which she could
not entirely relieve herself.
She endeavoured to acquire a relish for the pursuits
of literature, by which her lonely hours
might be cheered; but of this, even in the blithsomeness
and serenity of her former days, she was
incapable. Much more so now when she was the
prey of perpetual inquietude. Ormond perceived
this change, not without uneasiness. All his
efforts to reconcile her to her present situation
were fruitless. They produced a momentary effect
upon her. The softness of her temper and
her attachment to him, would, at his bidding,
seldom endured longer than his presence,
and the novelty of some amusement which he had
furnished her.
At his next visit, perhaps, he would find that a
new task awaited him. She indulged herself in
no recriminations or invectives. She could not
complain that her lover had deceived her. She
had voluntarily and deliberately accepted the conditions
prescribed. She regarded her own disposition
to repine as a species of injustice. She
laid no claim to an increase of tenderness. She
hinted not a wish for a change of situation: yet
she was unhappy. Tears stole into her eyes, and
her thoughts wandered into gloomy reverie, at
moments when least aware of their reproach, and
least willing to indulge them.
Was a change to be desired? Yes; provided
that change was equally agreeable to Ormond,
and should be seriously proposed by him, of this
she had no hope. As long as his accents rung in
her ears, she even doubted whether it were to be
wished. At any rate, it was impossible to gain
his approbation to it. Her destiny was fixed. It
was better than the cessation of all intercourse, yet
her heart was a stranger to all permanent tranquility.
Her manners were artless and ingenuous. In
company with Ormond her heart was perfectly
unveiled. He was her divinity to whom every
sentiment was visible, and to whom she spontaneously
uttered what she thought, because the
employment was pleasing; because he listened
with apparent satisfaction; and because, in fine,
it was the same thing to speak and to think in his
presence. There was no inducement to conceal
from him the most evanescent and fugitive ideas.
Ormond was not an inattentive or indifferent
spectator of those appearances. His friend was
unhappy. She shrunk aghast from her own reproaches
and the contumelies of the world. This
morbid sensibility he had endeavoured to cure,
but hitherto in vain. What was the amount of
her unhappiness? Her spirits had formerly been
gay, but her gaiety was capable of yielding place
to soul-ravishing and solemn tenderness. Her sedateness
was, at those times, the offspring not
of reflection but of passion. There still remained
much of her former self. He was seldom permitted
to witness more than the traces of sorrow.
In answer to his enquiries, she, for the most
part, described sensations that were gone, and
which she flattered himself and him would never
return; but this hope was always doomed to disappointment.
Solitude infalibly conjured up the
ghost which had been laid, and it was plain that
argument was no adequate remedy for this disease.
How far would time alleviate its evils? When
the novelty of her condition should disappear,
would she not regard it with other eyes? By
being familiar with contempt, it will lose its
sting; but is that to be wished? Must not the
character be thoroughly depraved, before the
scorn of our neighbours shall become indifferent?
Indifference, flowing from a sense of justice, and
a persuasion that our treatment is unmerited, is
characteristic of the noblest minds, but indifference
to obloquy because we are habituated to it,
is a token of peculiar baseness. This therefore
was a remedy to be ardently deprecated.
He had egregiously over-rated the influence
of truth and his own influence. He had hoped
that his victory was permanent. In order to the
success of truth, he was apt to imagine, that nothing
exhibition of it. They that enquire and reason
with sufficient deliberateness and caution, must
inevitably accomplish their end. These maxims
were confuted in the present case. He had
formed no advantageous conceptions of Helena's
capacity. His aversion to matrimony arose from
those conceptions, but experience had shewn him
that his conclusions, unfavorable as they were,
had fallen short of the truth. Convictions, which
he had conceived her mind to be sufficiently strong
to receive and retain, were proved to have made
no other, than a momentary impression. Hence
his objections to ally himself to a mind inferior to
his own were strengthened rather than diminished.
But he could not endure the thought of being
instrumental to her misery.
Marriage was an efficacious remedy, but he
could not as yet bring himself to regard the aptitude
of this cure as a subject of doubt. The idea
of separation sometimes occurred to him. He
was not unapprehensive of the influence of time
and absence, in curing the most vehement passion,
but to this expedient the lady could not be
reconciled. He knew her too well to believe
that she would willingly adopt it. But the only
obstacle to this scheme did not flow from the lady's
opposition. He would probably have found
upon experiment as strong an aversion to adopt
it in himself as in her.
It was easy to see the motives by which he
would be likely to be swayed into a change of
principles. If marriage were the only remedy,
the frequent repetition of this truth must bring
him insensibly to doubt the rectitude of his determinations
against it. He deeply reflected on the
consequences which marriage involves. He scrutinized
with the utmost accuracy, the character
could not fail of having some influence
on his opinions. The charms of this favorite object
tended to impair the clearness of his view,
and extenuate or conceal her defects. He entered
on the enumeration of her errors with reluctance.
Her happiness had it been wholly disconnected
with his own, might have had less weight
in the ballance, but now, every time the scales
were suspended, this consideration acquired new
weight.
Most men are influenced, in the formation of
this contract, by regards purely physical. They
are incapable of higher views. They regard
with indifference every tie that binds them to
their contemporaries, or to posterity. Mind has
no part in the motives that guide them. They
chuse a wife as they chuse any household moveable,
and when the irritation of the senses has subsided,
the attachment that remains is the offspring
of habit.
Such were not Ormond's modes of thinking.
His creed was of too extraordinary a kind not to
merit explication. The terms of this contract
were, in his eyes, iniquitous and absurd. He
could not think with patience of a promise which
no time could annull, which pretended to ascertain
contingencies and regulate the future. To
forego the liberty of chusing his companion, and
bind himself to associate with one whom he despised,
to raise to his own level one whom nature
had irretreavably degraded; to avow, and persist
in his adherence to a falsehood, palpable and
loathsome to his understanding; to affirm that he
was blind, when in full possession of his senses;
to shut his eyes and grope in the dark, and call
upon the compassion of mankind on his infirmity,
when his organs were, in no degree, impaired,
was an height of infatuation that he could
never attain. And why should he be thus self-degraded?
Why should he take a laborious circuit
to reach a point which, when attained, was
trivial, and to which reason had pointed out a
road short and direct?
A wife is generally nothing more than a household
superintendant. This function could not be
more wisely vested than it was at present. Every
thing, in his domestic system, was fashioned
on strict and inflexible principles. He wanted
instruments and not partakers of his authority.
One whose mind was equal and not superior to
the cogent apprehension and punctual performance
of his will. One whose character was
squared, with mathematical exactness, to his situation.
Helena, with all her faults, did not merit
to be regarded in this light. Her introduction
would destroy the harmony of his scheme, and be,
with respect to herself, a genuine debasement.
A genuine evil would thus be substituted for one
that was purely imaginary.
Helena's intellectual deficiencies could not be
concealed. She was a proficient in the elements
of no science. The doctrine of lines and surfaces
was as disproportionate with her intellects as
with those of the mock-bird. She had not reasoned
on the principles of human action, nor examined
the structure of society. She was ignorant
of the past or present condition of mankind.
History had not informed her of the one, nor the
narratives of voyagers, nor the deductions of geography
of the other. The heights of eloquence
and poetry were shut out from her view. She
could not commune in their native dialect, with
the sages of Rome and Athens. To her those perennial
fountains of wisdom and refinement were
of its author, the arrangement of the parts
of the external universe, and the substance,
modes of operation, and ultimate destiny of human
intelligence, were enigmas unsolved and insoluble
by her.
But this was not all. The superstructure could
for the present be spared. Nay it was desirable
that the province of rearing it, should be reserved
for him. All he wanted was a suitable foundation;
but this Helena did not possess. He had
not hitherto been able to create in her the inclination
or the power. She had listened to his precepts
with docility. She had diligently conned
the lessons which he had prescribed, but the impressions
were as fleeting as if they had been
made on water. Nature seemed to have set impassable
limits to her attainments.
This indeed was an unwelcome belief. He
struggled to invalidate it. He reflected on the
immaturity of her age. What but crude and
hasty views was it reasonable to expect at so
early a period. If her mind had not been awakened,
it had proceeded, perhaps, from the injudiciousness
of his plans, or merely from their
not having been persisted in. What was wanting
but the ornaments of mind to render this being
all that poets have feigned of angelic nature.
When he indulged himself in imaging the union
of capacious understanding with her personal
loveliness, his conceptions swelled to a pitch of
enthusiasm, and it seemed as if no labour was too
great to be employed in the production of such a
creature. And yet, in the midst of his glowings,
he would sink into sudden dejection at the recollection
of that which passion had, for a time, excluded.
To make her wise it would be requisite
pupil was a female, and her capacity therefore limited
by nature. This mortifying thought was
outbalanced by another. Her attainments, indeed,
were suitable to the imbecility of her sex;
but did she not surpass, in those attainments, the
ordinary rate of women? They must not be condemned,
because they are outshone by qualities
that are necessarily male births.
Her accomplishments formed a much more attractive
theme. He overlooked no article in the
catalogue. He was confounded at one time, and
encouraged at another, on remarking the contradictions
that seemed to be included in her character.
It was difficult to conceive the impossibility
of passing that barrier which yet she was
able to touch. She was no poet. She listened to
the rehearsal, without emotion, or was moved,
not by the substance of the passage, by the dazzling
image or the magic sympathy, but by something
adscititious: yet usher her upon the stage, and
no poet would wish for a more powerful organ of
his conceptions. In assuming this office, she appeared
to have drank in the very soul of the dramatist.
What was wanting in judgment, was
supplied by memory, in the tenaciousness of
which, she has seldom been rivalled.
Her sentiments were trite and undigested, but
were decorated with all the fluences and melodies
of elocution. Her musical instructor had
been a Sicilian, who had formed her style after
the Italian model. This man had likewise taught
her his own language. He had supplied her
chiefly with Sicilian compositions, both in poetry
and melody, and was content to be unclassical,
for the sake of the feminine and voluptuous graces
of his native dialect.
Ormond was an accurate judge of the proficiency
of Hellen, and of the felicity with which
these accomplishments were suited to her character.
When his pupil personated the victims
of anger and grief, and poured forth the fiery indignation
of Calista, or the maternal despair of
Constance, or the self-contentions of Ipsipile, he
could not deny the homage which her talents
might claim.
Her Sicilian tutor had found her no less tractable
as a votary of painting. She needed only
the education of Angelica, to exercise as potent
and prolific a pencil. This was incompatible
with her condition, which limited her attainments
to the elements of this art. It was otherwise
with music. Here there was no obstacle to skill,
and here the assiduities of many years, in addition
to a prompt and ardent genius, set her beyond
the hopes of rivalship.
Ormond had often amused his fancy with calling
up images of excellence in this art. He saw
no bounds to the influence of habit, in augmenting
the speed and multiplying the divisions of
muscular motion. The fingers, by their form and
size, were qualified to outrun and elude the most
vigilant eye. The sensibility of keys and wires
had limits, but these limits depended on the structure
of the instrument, and the perfection of its
structure was proportioned to the skill of the artist.
On well constructed keys and strings, was
it possible to carry diversities of movement and
pressure too far. How far they could be carried
was mere theme of conjecture, until it was his
fate to listen to the magical performances of Hellen,
whose votant finger seemed to be self-impelled.
Her touches were creative of a thousand
forms of Piano, and of numberless transitions from
own.
In the selection and arrangement of notes, there
are no limits to luxuriance and celerity. Hellen
had long relinquished the drudgery of imitation.
She never played but when there were motives
to fervour, and when she was likely to ascend
without impediment, and to maintain for a suitable
period her elevation, to the element of new
ideas. The lyrics of Milton and of Metastasio,
she sung with accompaniments that never tired,
because they were never repeated. Her harp
and clavichord supplied her with endless combinations,
and these in the opinion of Ormond were
not inferior to the happiest exertions of Handel
and Arne.
Chess was his favorite amusement. This was
the only game which he allowed himself to play.
He had studied it with so much zeal and success,
that there were few with whom he deigned to
contend. He was prone to consider it as a sort
of criterion of human capacity. He who had acquired
skill in this science, could not be infirm in
mind; and yet he found in Hellen, a competitor
not unworthy ofall his energies. Many hours
were consumed in this employment, and here
the lady was sedate, considerate, extensive in
foresight, and fertile in expedients.
Her deportment was graceful, inasmuch as it
flowed from a consciousness of her defects. She
was devoid of arrogance and vanity, neither imagining
himself better than she was, and setting
light by those qualifications which she unquestionably
possessed. Such was the mixed character
of this woman.
Ormond was occupied with schemes of a rugged
and arduous nature. His intimate associates
and the partakers of his confidence, were embrued
pursuits. Helena could lay no claim to be exalted
to this rank. That one destitute of this claim
should enjoy the privileges of his wife, was still a
supposition truly monstrous: Yet the image of
Helena, fondly loving him, and a model as he
conceived of tenderness and constancy, devoured
by secret remorse, and pursued by the scorn of
mankind; a mark for slander to shoot at, and an
outcast of society, did not visit his meditations
in vain. The rigour of his principles began now
to relent.
He considered that various occupations are incident
to every man. He cannot be invariably
employed in the promotion of one purpose. He
must occasionally unbend, if he desires that the
springs of his mind should retain their due vigour.
Suppose his life were divided between business
and amusement. This was a necessary distribution,
and sufficiently congenial with his temper.
It became him to select with skill his sources of
amusement. It is true that Helena was unable
to participate in his graver occupations; What
then? In whom were blended so many pleasurable
attributes? In her were assembled an exquisite
and delicious variety. As it was, he was
daily in her company. He should scarcely be
more so, if marriage should take place. In that
case, no change in their mode of life would be
necessary. There was no need of dwelling under
the same roof. His revenue was equal to the support
of many household establishments. His personal
independence would remain equally inviolate.
No time, he thought, would diminish his
influence over the mind of Helena, and it was not
to be forgotten that the transition would to her
be happy. It would reinstate her in the esteem
of the world, and dispel those phantoms of remorse
persecuted.
These were plausible considerations. They
tended at least to shake his resolutions. Time
would probably have compleated the conquest of
his pride, had not a new incident set the question
in a new light.
| CHAPTER XIII. Ormond, or, The secret witness | |