Book: Lucretia, Volume 6.

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Lucretia, Volume 6.



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CHAPTER XVIII.

RETROSPECT.

We have now arrived at that stage in this history when it is necessary to
look back on the interval in Lucretia's life,--between the death of
Dalibard, and her reintroduction in the second portion of our tale.

One day, without previous notice or warning, Lucretia arrived at William
Mainwaring's house; she was in the deep weeds of widowhood, and that garb
of mourning sufficed to add Susan's tenderest commiseration to the warmth
of her affectionate welcome. Lucretia appeared to have forgiven the
past, and to have conquered its more painful recollections; she was
gentle to Susan, though she rather suffered than returned her caresses;
she was open and frank to William. Both felt inexpressibly grateful for
her visit, the forgiveness it betokened, and the confidence it implied.
At this time no condition could be more promising and prosperous than
that of the young banker. From the first the most active partner in the
bank, he had now virtually almost monopolized the business. The senior
partner was old and infirm; the second had a bucolic turn, and was much
taken up by the care of a large farm he had recently purchased; so that
Mainwaring, more and more trusted and honoured, became the sole managing
administrator of the firm. Business throve in his able hands; and with
patient and steady perseverance there was little doubt but that, before
middle age was attained, his competence would have swelled into a fortune
sufficient to justify him in realizing the secret dream of his heart,--
the parliamentary representation of the town, in which he had already
secured the affection and esteem of the inhabitants.

It was not long before Lucretia detected the ambition William's industry
but partially concealed; it was not long before, with the ascendency
natural to her will and her talents, she began to exercise considerable,
though unconscious, influence over a man in whom a thousand good
qualities and some great talents were unhappily accompanied by infirm
purpose and weak resolutions. The ordinary conversation of Lucretia
unsettled his mind and inflamed his vanity,--a conversation able,
aspiring, full both of knowledge drawn from books and of that experience
of public men which her residence in Paris (whereon, with its new and
greater Charlemagne, the eyes of the world were turned) had added to her
acquisitions in the lore of human life. Nothing more disturbs a mind
like William Mainwaring's than that species of eloquence which rebukes
its patience in the present by inflaming all its hopes in the future.
Lucretia had none of the charming babble of women, none of that tender
interest in household details, in the minutiae of domestic life, which
relaxes the intellect while softening the heart. Hard and vigorous, her
sentences came forth in eternal appeal to the reason, or address to the
sterner passions in which love has no share. Beside this strong thinker,
poor Susan's sweet talk seemed frivolous and inane. Her soft hold upon
Mainwaring loosened. He ceased to consult her upon business; he began to
repine that the partner of his lot could have little sympathy with his
dreams. More often and more bitterly now did his discontented glance, in
his way homeward, rove to the rooftops of the rural member for the town;
more eagerly did he read the parliamentary debates; more heavily did he
sigh at the thought of eloquence denied a vent, and ambition delayed in
its career.

When arrived at this state of mind, Lucretia's conversation took a more
worldly, a more practical turn. Her knowledge of the speculators of
Paris instructed her pictures of bold ingenuity creating sudden wealth;
she spoke of fortunes made in a day,--of parvenus bursting into
millionnaires; of wealth as the necessary instrument of ambition, as the
arch ruler of the civilized world. Never once, be it observed, in these
temptations, did Lucretia address herself to the heart; the ordinary
channels of vulgar seduction were disdained by her. She would not have
stooped so low as Mainwaring's love, could she have commanded or allured
it; she was willing to leave to Susan the husband reft from her own
passionate youth, but leave him with the brand on his brow and the worm
at his heart,--a scoff and a wreck.

At this time there was in that market-town one of those adventurous,
speculative men, who are the more dangerous impostors because imposed
upon by their own sanguine chimeras, who have a plausibility in their
calculations, an earnestness in their arguments, which account for the
dupes they daily make in our most sober and wary of civilized
communities. Unscrupulous in their means, yet really honest in the
belief that their objects can be attained, they are at once the rogues
and fanatics of Mammon. This person was held to have been fortunate in
some adroit speculations in the corn trade, and he was brought too
frequently into business with Mainwaring not to be a frequent visitor at
the house. In him Lucretia saw the very instrument of her design. She
led him on to talk of business as a game, of money as a realizer of cent
per cent; she drew him into details, she praised him, she admired. In
his presence she seemed only to hear him; in his absence, musingly, she
started from silence to exclaim on the acuteness of his genius and the
accuracy of his figures. Soon the tempter at Mainwaring's heart gave
signification to these praises, soon this adventurer became his most
intimate friend. Scarcely knowing why, never ascribing the change to her
sister, poor Susan wept, amazed at Mainwaring's transformation. No care
now for the new books from London, or the roses in the garden; the music
on the instrument was unheeded. Books, roses, music,--what are those
trifles to a man thinking upon cent per cent? Mainwaring's very
countenance altered; it lost its frank, affectionate beauty: sullen,
abstracted, morose, it showed that some great care was at the core. Then
Lucretia herself began grievingly to notice the change to Susan;
gradually she altered her tone with regard to the speculator, and hinted
vague fears, and urged Susan's remonstrance and warning. As she had
anticipated, warning and remonstrance came in vain to the man who,
comparing Lucretia's mental power to Susan's, had learned to despise the
unlearned, timid sense of the latter.

It is unnecessary to trace this change in Mainwaring step by step, or to
measure the time which sufficed to dazzle his reason and blind his
honour. In the midst of schemes and hopes which the lust of gold now
pervaded came a thunderbolt. An anonymous letter to the head partner of
the bank provoked suspicions that led to minute examination of the
accounts. It seemed that sums had been irregularly advanced (upon bills
drawn by men of straw) to the speculator by Mainwaring; and the
destination of these sums could be traced to gambling operations in trade
in which Mainwaring had a private interest and partnership. So great, as
we have said, had been the confidence placed in William's abilities and
honour that the facilities afforded him in the disposal of the joint
stock far exceeded those usually granted to the partner of a firm, and
the breach of trust appeared the more flagrant from the extent of the
confidence misplaced. Meanwhile, William Mainwaring, though as yet
unconscious of the proceedings of his partners, was gnawed by anxiety and
remorse, not unmixed with hope. He depended upon the result of a bold
speculation in the purchase of shares in a Canal Company, a bill for
which was then before parliament, with (as he was led to believe) a
certainty of success. The sums he had, on his own responsibility,
abstracted from the joint account were devoted to this adventure. But,
to do him justice, he never dreamed of appropriating the profits
anticipated to himself. Though knowing that the bills on which the
moneys had been advanced were merely nominal deposits, he had confidently
calculated on the certainty of success for the speculations to which the
proceeds so obtained were devoted, and he looked forward to the moment
when he might avow what he had done, and justify it by doubling the
capital withdrawn. But to his inconceivable horror, the bill of the
Canal Company was rejected in the Lords; the shares bought at a premium
went down to zero; and to add to his perplexity, the speculator abruptly
disappeared from the town. In this crisis he was summoned to meet his
indignant associates.

The evidence against him was morally damning, if not legally conclusive.
The unhappy man heard all in the silence of despair. Crushed and
bewildered, he attempted no defence. He asked but an hour to sum up the
losses of the bank and his own; they amounted within a few hundreds to
the 10,000 pounds he had brought to the firm, and which, in the absence
of marriage-settlements, was entirely at his own disposal. This sum he
at once resigned to his associates, on condition that they should defray
from it his personal liabilities. The money thus repaid, his partners
naturally relinquished all further inquiry. They were moved by pity for
one so gifted and so fallen,--they even offered him a subordinate but
lucrative situation in the firm in which he had been partner; but
Mainwaring wanted the patience and resolution to work back the redemption
of his name,--perhaps, ultimately, of his fortunes. In the fatal anguish
of his shame and despair, he fled from the town; his flight confirmed
forever the rumours against him,--rumours worse than the reality. It was
long before he even admitted Susan to the knowledge of the obscure refuge
he had sought; there, at length, she joined him. Meanwhile, what did
Lucretia? She sold nearly half of her own fortune, constituted
principally of the moiety of her portion which, at Dalibard's death, had
passed to herself as survivor, and partly of the share in her deceased
husband's effects which the French law awarded to her, and with the
proceeds of this sum she purchased an annuity for her victims. Was this
strange generosity the act of mercy, the result of repentance? No; it
was one of the not least subtle and delicious refinements of her revenge.
To know him who had rejected her, the rival who had supplanted, the
miserable pensioners of her bounty, was dear to her haughty and
disdainful hate. The lust of power, ever stronger in her than avarice,
more than reconciled her to the sacrifice of gold. Yes, here she, the
despised, the degraded, had power still; her wrath had ruined the
fortunes of her victim, blasted the repute, embittered and desolated
evermore the future,--now her contemptuous charity fed the wretched lives
that she spared in scorn. She had no small difficulty, it is true, in
persuading Susan to accept this sacrifice, and she did so only by
sustaining her sister's belief that the past could yet be retrieved, that
Mainwaring's energies could yet rebuild their fortunes, and that as the
annuity was at any time redeemable, the aid therefore was only temporary.
With this understanding, Susan, overwhelmed with gratitude, weeping and
broken-hearted, departed to join the choice of her youth. As the men
deputed by the auctioneer to arrange and ticket the furniture for sale
entered the desolate house, Lucretia then, with the step of a conqueror,
passed from the threshold.

"Ah!" she murmured, as she paused, and gazed on the walls, "ah, they were
happy when I first entered those doors,--happy in each other's tranquil
love; happier still when they deemed I had forgiven the wrong and abjured
the past! How honoured was then their home! How knew I then, for the
first time, what the home of love can be! And who had destroyed for me,
upon all the earth, a home like theirs? They on whom that home smiled
with its serene and taunting peace! I--I, the guest! I--I, the
abandoned, the betrayed,--what dark memories were on my soul, what a hell
boiled within my bosom! Well might those memories take each a voice to
accuse them; well, from that hell, might rise the Alecto! Their lives
were in my power, my fatal dowry at my command,--rapid death, or slow,
consuming torture; but to have seen each cheer the other to the grave,
lighting every downward step with the eyes of love,--vengeance so urged
would have fallen only on myself! Ha! deceiver, didst thou plume
thyself, forsooth, on spotless reputation? Didst thou stand, me by thy
side, amongst thy perjured household gods and talk of honour? Thy home,
it is reft from thee; thy reputation, it is a, scoff; thine honour, it is
a ghost that shall haunt thee! Thy love, can it linger yet? Shall the
soft eyes of thy wife not burn into thy heart, and shame turn love into
loathing? Wrecks of my vengeance, minions of my bounty, I did well to
let ye live; I shake the dust from my feet on your threshold. Live on,
homeless, hopeless, and childless! The curse is fulfilled!"

From that hour Lucretia never paused from her career to inquire further
of her victims; she never entered into communication with either. They
knew not her address nor her fate, nor she theirs. As she had reckoned,
Mainwaring made no effort to recover himself from his fall. All the high
objects that had lured his ambition were gone from him evermore. No
place in the State, no authority in the senate, awaits in England the man
with a blighted name. For the lesser objects of life he had no heart and
no care. They lived in obscurity in a small village in Cornwall till the
Peace allowed them to remove to France; the rest of their fate is known.

Meanwhile, Lucretia removed to one of those smaller Londons, resorts of
pleasure and idleness, with which rich England abounds, and in which
widows of limited income can make poverty seem less plebeian. And now,
to all those passions that had hitherto raged within her, a dismal apathy
succeeded. It was the great calm in her sea of life. The winds fell,
and the sails drooped. Her vengeance satisfied, that which she had made
so preternaturally the main object of existence, once fulfilled, left her
in youth objectless.

She strove at first to take pleasure in the society of the place; but its
frivolities and pettiness of purpose soon wearied that masculine and
grasping mind, already made insensible to the often healthful, often
innocent, excitement of trifles, by the terrible ordeal it had passed.
Can the touch of the hand, scorched by the burning iron, feel pleasure in
the softness of silk, or the light down of the cygnet's plume? She next
sought such relief as study could afford; and her natural bent of
thought, and her desire to vindicate her deeds to herself, plunged her
into the fathomless abyss of metaphysical inquiry with the hope to
confirm into positive assurance her earlier scepticism,--with the
atheist's hope to annihilate the soul, and banish the presiding God. But
no voice that could satisfy her reason came from those dreary deeps;
contradiction on contradiction met her in the maze. Only when, wearied
with book-lore, she turned her eyes to the visible Nature, and beheld
everywhere harmony, order, system, contrivance, art, did she start with
the amaze and awe of instinctive conviction, and the natural religion
revolted from her cheerless ethics. Then came one of those sudden
reactions common with strong passions and exploring minds, but more
common with women, however manlike, than with men. Had she lived in
Italy then, she had become a nun; for in this woman, unlike Varney and
Dalibard, the conscience could never be utterly silenced. In her choice
of evil, she found only torture to her spirit in all the respites
afforded to the occupations it indulged. When employed upon ill, remorse
gave way to the zest of scheming; when the ill was done, remorse came
with the repose.

It was in this peculiar period of her life that Lucretia, turning
everywhere, and desperately, for escape from the past, became acquainted
with some members of one of the most rigid of the sects of Dissent. At
first she permitted herself to know and commune with these persons from a
kind of contemptuous curiosity; she desired to encourage, in
contemplating them, her experience of the follies of human nature: but in
that crisis of her mind, in those struggles of her reason, whatever
showed that which she most yearned to discover,--namely, earnest faith,
rooted and genuine conviction, whether of annihilation or of immortality,
a philosophy that might reconcile her to crime by destroying the
providence of good, or a creed that could hold out the hope of redeeming
the past and exorcising sin by the mystery of a Divine sacrifice,--had
over her a power which she had not imagined or divined. Gradually the
intense convictions of her new associates disturbed and infected her.
Their affirmations that as we are born in wrath, so sin is our second
nature, our mysterious heritage, seemed, to her understanding, willing to
be blinded, to imply excuses for her past misdeeds. Their assurances
that the worst sinner may become the most earnest saint; that through but
one act of the will, resolute faith, all redemption is to be found,--
these affirmations and these assurances, which have so often restored the
guilty and remodelled the human heart, made a salutary, if brief,
impression upon her. Nor were the lives of these Dissenters (for the
most part austerely moral), nor the peace and self-complacency which they
evidently found in the satisfaction of conscience and fulfilment of duty,
without an influence over her that for a while both chastened and
soothed.

Hopeful of such a convert, the good teachers strove hard to confirm the
seeds springing up from the granite and amidst the weeds; and amongst
them came one man more eloquent, more seductive, than the rest,--Alfred
Braddell. This person, a trader at Liverpool, was one of those strange
living paradoxes that can rarely be found out of a commercial community.
He himself had been a convert to the sect, and like most converts, he
pushed his enthusiasm into the bigotry of the zealot; he saw no salvation
out of the pale into which he had entered. But though his belief was
sincere, it did not genially operate on his practical life; with the most
scrupulous attention to forms, he had the worldliness and cunning of the
carnal. He had abjured the vices of the softer senses, but not that
which so seldom wars on the decorums of outer life. He was essentially a
money-maker,--close, acute, keen, overreaching. Good works with him were
indeed as nothing,--faith the all in all. He was one of the elect, and
could not fall. Still, in this man there was all the intensity which
often characterizes a mind in proportion to the narrowness of its
compass; that intensity gave fire to his gloomy eloquence, and strength
to his obstinate will. He saw Lucretia, and his zeal for her conversion
soon expanded into love for her person; yet that love was secondary to
his covetousness. Though ostensibly in a flourishing business, he was
greatly distressed for money to carry on operations which swelled beyond
the reach of his capital; his fingers itched for the sum which Lucretia
had still at her disposal. But the seeming sincerity of the man, the
persuasion of his goodness, his reputation for sanctity, deceived her;
she believed herself honestly and ardently beloved, and by one who could
guide her back, if not to happiness, at least to repose. She herself
loved him not,--she could love no more. But it seemed to her a luxury to
find some one she could trust, she could honour. If you had probed into
the recesses of her mind at that time, you would have found that no
religious belief was there settled,--only the desperate wish to believe;
only the disturbance of all previous infidelity; only a restless, gnawing
desire to escape from memory, to emerge from the gulf. In this troubled,
impatient disorder of mind and feeling, she hurried into a second
marriage as fatal as the first.

For a while she bore patiently all the privations of that ascetic
household, assisted in all those external formalities, centred all her
intellect within that iron range of existence. But no grace descended on
her soul,--no warm ray unlocked the ice of the well. Then, gradually
becoming aware of the niggardly meanness, of the harsh, uncharitable
judgments, of the decorous frauds that, with unconscious hypocrisy, her
husband concealed beneath the robes of sanctity, a weary disgust stole
over her,--it stole, it deepened, it increased; it became intolerable
when she discovered that Braddell had knowingly deceived her as to his
worldly substance. In that mood in which she had rushed into these
ominous nuptials, she had had no thought for vulgar advantages; had
Braddell been a beggar, she had married him as rashly. But he, with the
inability to comprehend a nature like hers,--dim not more to her terrible
vices than to the sinister grandeur which made their ordinary
atmosphere,--had descended cunningly to address the avarice he thought as
potent in others as himself, to enlarge on the worldly prosperity with
which Providence had blessed him; and now she saw that her dowry alone
had saved the crippled trader from the bankrupt list. With this revolting
discovery, with the scorn it produced, vanished all Lucretia's unstable
visions of reform. She saw this man a saint amongst his tribe, and would
not believe in the virtues of his brethren, great and unquestionable as
they might have been proved to a more dispassionate and humbler inquirer.
The imposture she detected she deemed universal in the circle in which
she dwelt; and Satan once more smiled upon the subject he regained.
Lucretia became a mother; but their child formed no endearing tie between
the ill-assorted pair,--it rather embittered their discord. Dimly even
then, as she bent over the cradle, that vision, which now, in the old
house at Brompton, haunted her dreams and beckoned her over seas of blood
into the fancied future, was foreshadowed in the face of her infant son.
To be born again in that birth, to live only in that life, to aspire as
man may aspire, in that future man whom she would train to knowledge and
lead to power,--these were the feelings with which that sombre mother
gazed upon her babe. The idea that the low-born, grovelling father had
the sole right over that son's destiny, had the authority to cabin his
mind in the walls of form, bind him down to the sordid apprenticeship,
debased, not dignified, by the solemn mien, roused her indignant wrath;
she sickened when Braddell touched her child. All her pride of
intellect, that had never slept, all her pride of birth, long dormant,
woke up to protect the heir of her ambition, the descendant of her race,
from the defilement of the father's nurture. Not long after her
confinement, she formed a plan for escape; she disappeared from the house
with her child. Taking refuge in a cottage, living on the sale of the
few jewels she possessed, she was for some weeks almost happy. But
Braddell, less grieved by the loss than shocked by the scandal, was
indefatigable in his researches,--he discovered her retreat. The scene
between them was terrible. There was no resisting the power which all
civilized laws give to the rights of husband and father. Before this
man, whom she scorned so unutterably, Lucretia was impotent. Then all
the boiling passions long suppressed beneath that command of temper.
which she owed both to habitual simulation and intense disdain, rushed
forth. Then she appalled the impostor with her indignant denunciations
of his hypocrisy, his meanness, and his guile. Then, throwing off the
mask she had worn, she hurled her anathema on his sect, on his faith,
with the same breath that smote his conscience and left it wordless. She
shocked all the notions he sincerely entertained, and he stood awed by
accusations from a blasphemer whom he dared not rebuke. His rage broke
at length from his awe. Stung, maddened by the scorn of himself, his
blood fired into juster indignation by her scoff at his creed, he lost
all self-possession and struck her to the ground. In the midst of shame
and dread at disclosure of his violence, which succeeded the act so
provoked, he was not less relieved than amazed when Lucretia, rising
slowly, laid her hand gently on his arm and said, "Repent not, it is
passed; fear not, I will be silent! Come, you are the stronger,--you
prevail. I will follow my child to your home."

In this unexpected submission in one so imperious, Braddell's imperfect
comprehension of character saw but fear, and his stupidity exulted in his
triumph. Lucretia returned with him. A few days afterwards Braddell
became ill; the illness increased,--slow, gradual, wearying. It broke
his spirit with his health; and then the steadfast imperiousness of
Lucretia's stern will ruled and subjugated him. He cowered beneath her
haughty, searching gaze, he shivered at her sidelong, malignant glance;
but with this fear came necessarily hate, and this hate, sometimes
sufficing to vanquish the fear, spitefully evinced itself in thwarting
her legitimate control over her infant. He would have it (though he had
little real love for children) constantly with him, and affected to
contradict all her own orders to the servants, in the sphere in which
mothers arrogate most the right. Only on these occasions sometimes would
Lucretia lose her grim self-control, and threaten that her child yet
should be emancipated from his hands, should yet be taught the scorn for
hypocrites which he had taught herself. These words sank deep, not only
in the resentment, but in the conscience, of the husband. Meanwhile,
Lucretia scrupled not to evince her disdain of Braddell by markedly
abstaining from all the ceremonies she had before so rigidly observed.
The sect grew scandalized. Braddell did not abstain from making known
his causes of complaint. The haughty, imperious woman was condemned in
the community, and hated in the household.

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