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IN the mean time what did Perdita?
During the first months of his Protectorate,
Happiness is in its highest degree the sister of goodness. Suffering and
amiability may exist
During the five years we had spent together, a knot of happy human beings at
Windsor Castle,
If a feeling of dissatisfaction ever crossed her, it arose from the idea that
he was not perfectly happy. Desire of renown, and presumptuous ambition, had
characterized his youth. The one he had acquired in Greece; the other he had
sacrificed to love. His intellect found sufficient field for exercise in his
domestic circle, whose members, all adorned by refinement and literature,
were many of them, like himself, distinguished by genius. Yet active life
was the genuine soil for his virtues; and he sometimes suffered tedium from
the monotonous succession of events in our retirement. Pride
His passage to power had been full of pain to both. He however attained his
wish; he filled the situation for which nature seemed to have moulded him.
His activity was fed in wholesome measure, without either exhaustion or
satiety; his taste and genius found worthy expression in each of the modes
human beings have invented to encage and manifest the spirit of beauty; the
goodness of his heart made him never weary of conducing to the well-being of
his fellow-creatures; his magnificent spirit, and
Raymond was eminently social. All that he now enjoyed would have been devoid
of pleasure to him, had it been unparticipated. But in Perdita he possessed
all that his heart could desire. Her love gave birth to sympathy; her
intelligence made her understand him at a word; her powers of intellect
enabled her to assist and guide him. He felt her worth. During the early
years of their union, the inequality of her temper, and yet unsubdued
self-will which tarnished her character, had been a slight draw-
The first secret that had existed between them was the visits of Raymond to Evadne. He had been struck by the fortitude and beauty of the ill-fated Greek; and, when her constant tenderness towards him unfolded itself, he asked with astonishment, by what act of his he had merited this passionate and unrequited love. She was for a while the sole object of his reveries; and Perdita became aware that his thoughts and time were bestowed on a subject unparticipated by her. My sister was by nature destitute of the common feelings of anxious, petulant jealousy. The treasure which she possessed in the affections of Raymond, was more necessary to her being, than the life-blood that animated her veins--more truly than Othello she might say,
On the present occasion she did not suspect any alienation of affection; but she conjectured that some circumstance connected with his high place, had occasioned this mystery. She was startled and pained. She began to count the long days, and months, and years which must elapse, before he would be restored to a private station, and unreservedly to her. She was not content that, even for a time, he should practice concealment with her. She often repined; but her trust in the singleness of his affection was undisturbed; and, when they were together, unchecked by fear, she opened her heart to the fullest delight.
Time went on. Raymond, stopping mid-way in his wild career, paused suddenly
to think of consequences. Two results presented themselves in the view he
took of the future. That his intercourse with Evadne should continue a
secret to, or that finally it should be discovered by Perdita. The destitute
condition, and highly wrought feelings of his friend prevented him
Beckford himself commissioned a monumental tower for his own home, Fonthill Abbey, that eventually collapsed of structural flaws--in effect of its own weight.
which should conceal from her the workings of his heart, and hide from her view the secret of his actions. This idea was intolerably painful to him. Frankness and social feelings were the essence of Raymond's nature; without them his qualities became common-place; without these to spread glory over his intercourse with Perdita, his vaunted exchange of a throne for her love, was as weak and empty as the rainbow hues which vanish when the sun is down. But there was no remedy. Genius, devotion, and courage; the adornments of his mind, and the energies of his soul, all exerted to their uttermost stretch, could not roll back one hair's breadth the wheel of time's chariot; that which had been was written withBut this was the best side of the question. What, if circumstance should lead
Perdita to suspect, and suspecting to be resolved? The fibres of his frame
became relaxed, and cold dew stood on his forehead, at this idea. Many men
may scoff at his dread; but he read the future; and the peace of Perdita was
too dear to him, her speechless agony too certain, and too fearful, not to
unman him. His course was speedily decided upon. If the worst befell; if she
learnt the truth, he would neither stand her reproaches, or the anguish of
her altered looks. He would forsake her, England, his friends, the scenes of
his youth, the hopes of coming time, he would seek another country, and in
other scenes begin life again. Having resolved on this, he became calmer. He
endeavoured to guide with prudence the steeds of destiny through
The perfect confidence that subsisted between Perdita and him, rendered every communication common between them. They opened each other's letters, even as, until now, the inmost fold of the heart of each was disclosed to the other. A letter came unawares, Perdita read it. Had it contained confirmation, she must have been annihilated. As it was, trembling, cold, and pale, she sought Raymond. He was alone, examining some petitions lately presented. She entered silently, sat on a sofa opposite to him, and gazed on him with a look of such despair, that wildest shrieks and dire moans would have been tame exhibitions of misery, compared to the living incarnation of the thing itself exhibited by her.
At first he did not take his eyes from the papers; when he raised them, he
was struck by
"Nothing," she replied at first; "and yet not so," she continued, hurrying on in her speech; "you have secrets, Raymond; where have you been lately, whom have you seen, what do you conceal from me?--why am I banished from your confidence? Yet this is not it--I do not intend to entrap you with questions--one will suffice--am I completely a wretch?"
With trembling hand she gave him the paper, and sat white and motionless
looking at him while he read it. He recognised the hand-writing of Evadne,
and the colour mounted in his cheeks. With lightning-speed he conceived the
contents of the letter; all was now cast on one die; falsehood and artifice
were trifles in comparison with the impending ruin. He would
Perdita gasped: "Well," she cried, "well, go on!"
"That is all--this paper tells all. I am placed in the most difficult circumstances. I have done my best, though perhaps I have done wrong. My love for you is inviolate."
Perdita shook her head doubtingly: "It cannot be," she cried, "I know that it is not. You would deceive me, but I will not be deceived. I have lost you, myself, my life!"
"Do you not believe me?" said Raymond haughtily.
"To believe you," she exclaimed, "I would
"Perdita," continued Raymond, "you do not see the precipice on which you
stand. You may believe that I did not enter on my present line of conduct
without reluctance and pain. I knew that it was possible that your
suspicions might be excited; but I trusted that my simple word would cause
them to disappear. I built my hope on your confidence. Do you think that I
will be questioned, and my replies disdainfully set aside? Do you think that
I will be suspected, perhaps watched, cross-questioned, and disbelieved? I
am not yet fallen so low; my honour is not yet so tarnished. You have loved
me; I adored you. But all human sentiments come to an end. Let our affection
expire--but let it not be exchanged for distrust and recrimination.
Heretofore we have been friends--lovers--let us not become enemies, mutual
spies. I cannot live the object
"Exactly so," cried Perdita, "I knew that it would come to this! Are we not already parted? Does not a stream, boundless as ocean, deep as vacuum, yawn between us?"
Raymond rose, his voice was broken, his features convulsed, his manner calm as the earthquake-cradling atmosphere, he replied: "I am rejoiced that you take my decision so philosophically. Doubtless you will play the part of the injured wife to admiration. Sometimes you may be stung with the feeling that you have wronged me, but the condolence of your relatives, the pity of the world, the complacency which the consciousness of your own immaculate innocence will bestow, will be excellent balm;--me you will never see more!"
Raymond moved towards the door. He forgot that each word he spoke was false.
He personated his assumption of innocence even to self-deception. Have not
actors wept, as they
"The blow is given. I will not part from you in anger;--I owe you too much. I
owe you six years of unalloyed happiness. But they are passed. I will not
live the mark of suspicion, the object of jealousy. I love you too well. In
an eternal separation only can either of us hope for dignity and propriety
of action. We shall not then be degraded from our true characters. Faith and
devotion have hitherto been the essence of our intercourse;--
"And you," cried Perdita, "the writer of that letter."
Uncontrollable indignation flashed from the eyes of Raymond. He knew that this accusation at least was false. "Entertain this belief," he cried, "hug it to your heart--make it a pillow to your head, an opiate for your eyes--I am content. But, by the God that made me, hell is not more false than the word you have spoken!"
Perdita was struck by the impassioned seriousness of his asseverations. She
replied with earnestness, "I do not refuse to believe you, Raymond; on the
contrary I promise to put implicit faith in your simple word. Only assure me
that your love and faith towards me have never been violated; and suspicion,
and doubt, and jealousy will at once be dispersed. We
"I have already assured you of my fidelity," said Raymond with disdainful coldness, "triple assertions will avail nothing where one is despised. I will say no more; for I can add nothing to what I have already said, to what you before contemptuously set aside. This contention is unworthy of both of us; and I confess that I am weary of replying to charges at once unfounded and unkind."
Perdita tried to read his countenance, which he angrily averted. There was so
much of truth and nature in his resentment, that her doubts were dispelled.
Her countenance, which for years had not expressed a feeling unallied to
affection, became again radiant and satisfied. She found it however no easy
task to soften and reconcile Raymond. At first he refused to stay to hear
her. But she would not be put off; secure of his unaltered love, she was
willing to
Raymond staggered forth from this scene, as a man might do, who had been just
put to the torture, and looked forward to when it would be again inflicted.
He had sinned against his own honour, by affirming, swearing to, a direct
falsehood; true this he had palmed on a woman, and it might therefore be
deemed less base--by others--not by him;--for whom had he deceived?--his own
trusting, devoted, affectionate Perdita, whose generous belief galled him
doubly, when he remembered the parade of innocence with which it had been
exacted. The mind of Raymond was not so rough cast, nor had been so rudely
handled, in the circumstance of life, as to make him proof to these
considerations--on the contrary, he was all nerve; his spirit was as a pure
fire, which fades and shrinks from every contagion of foul atmosphere: but
now the contagion had become incorporated with its essence, and the change
was the more painful.
He slowly recovered himself; yet, at last, as one might from the effects of poison, he lifted his head from above the vapours of fever and passion into the still atmosphere of calm reflection. He meditated on what was best to be done. He was first struck by the space of time that had elapsed, since madness, rather than any reasonable impulse, had regulated his actions. A month had gone by, and during that time he had not seen Evadne. Her power, which was linked to few of the enduring emotions of his heart, had greatly decayed. He was no longer her slave--no longer her lover: he would never see her more, and by the completeness of his return, deserve the confidence of Perdita.
Yet, as he thus determined, fancy conjured up the miserable abode of the
Greek girl. An abode, which from noble and lofty principle, she had refused
to exchange for one of greater
Again he thought, how during this long month, he had avoided Perdita, flying
from her as from the stings of his own conscience. But he was awake now; all
this should be remedied; and future devotion erase the memory of this only
blot on the serenity of their life. He became cheerful, as he thought of
this, and soberly and resolutely marked out the line of conduct he would
adopt. He remembered that he had promised Perdita to be present this very
evening (the 19th of October, anniversary of his
After the scene sketched in the preceding pages, Perdita had contemplated an
entire change in the manners and conduct of Raymond. She expected freedom of
communication, and a return to those habits of affectionate intercourse
which had formed the delight of her life. But Raymond did not join her in
any of her avocations. He transacted the business of the day apart from her;
he went out, she knew not whither. The pain inflicted by this disappointment
was tormenting and keen. She looked on it as a deceitful dream, and tried to
throw off the consciousness of it; but like the shirt of Nessus, from
Lempriere's
Mortally wounded by Hercules, the centaur Nessus "gave the tunic he then wore to Dejanira, assuring her that from the poisoned blood which had flowed from his wounds it had received the power of calling a husband away from unlawful loves. Dejanira received it with pleasure, and this mournful present caused the death of Hercules."
The anniversary was at hand of the exaltation of Raymond to the office of
Protector; and it was customary to celebrate this day by a splendid
festival. A variety of feelings urged Perdita to shed double magnificence
over the scene; yet, as she arrayed herself for the evening gala, she
wondered herself at the pains she
Brooding over this plan, resolved when the hour should come, to propose, and
insist upon its accomplishment, secure of his consent, the heart of Perdita
was lightened, or rather exalted. Her cheek was flushed by the expectation
of struggle; her eyes sparkled with the hope of triumph. Having cast her
fate upon a die, and feeling secure of winning, she, whom I have named as
bearing the stamp of queen of nations on her noble brow, now rose superior
to humanity, and seemed in calm power, to arrest with
We, the Arcadian shepherds of the tale, had intended to be present at this festivity, but Perdita wrote to entreat us not to come, or to absent ourselves from Windsor; for she (though she did not reveal her scheme to us) resolved the next morning to return with Raymond to our dear circle, there to renew a course of life in which she had found entire felicity. Late in the evening she entered the apartments appropriated to the festival. Raymond had quitted the palace the night before; he had promised to grace the assembly, but he had not yet returned. Still she felt sure that he would come at last; and the wider the breach might appear at this crisis, the more secure she was of closing it for ever.
It was as I said, the nineteenth of October; the autumn was far advanced and
dreary. The wind howled; the half bare trees were despoiled of the remainder
of their summer ornament; the
If she died, where could there be found on record a murderer, whose cruel act
might compare with his? What fiend more wanton in his mischief, what damned
soul more worthy of perdition! But he was not reserved for this agony of
self-reproach. He sent for medical assistance; the hours passed, spun by
suspense into ages; the darkness of the long autumnal night yielded to day,
before her life was secure.
In the midst of his greatest suspense and fear as to the event, he remembered
the festival given in his honour, by Perdita; in his honour then, when
misery and death were affixing indelible disgrace to his name, honour to him
whose crimes deserved a scaffold; this was the worst mockery. Still Perdita
would expect him; he wrote a few incoherent words on a scrap of paper,
testifying that he was well, and bade the woman of the house take it to the
palace, and deliver it into the hands of the wife of the Lord Protector. The
woman, who did not know him, contemptuously asked, how he thought she should
gain admittance, particularly on a festal night, to that lady's presence?
Raymond gave her his ring to ensure the respect of the menials. Thus, while
Perdita was entertaining her guests, and anxiously awaiting the arrival of
her lord, his ring was brought her; and she
The vanity of the old gossip was raised by her commission, which, after all,
she did not understand, since she had no suspicion, even now that Evadne's
visitor was Lord Raymond. Perdita dreaded a fall from his horse, or some
similar accident--till the woman's answers woke other fears. From a feeling
of cunning blindly exercised, the officious, if not malignant messenger, did
not speak of Evadne's illness; but she garrulously gave an account of
Raymond's frequent visits, adding to her narration such circumstances, as,
while they convinced Perdita of its truth, exaggerated the unkindness and
perfidy of Raymond. Worst of all, his absence now from the festival, his
message wholly unaccounted for, except by the disgraceful hints of the
woman, appeared the deadliest insult. Again she looked at the ring, it was a
small ruby, almost heart-shaped, which she had herself given him. She looked
at the hand-writing, which she
The poor girl returned to the assembly, where her presence had not been missed. She glided into a recess somewhat obscured, and leaning against an ornamental column there placed, tried to recover herself. Her faculties were palsied. She gazed on some flowers that stood near in a carved vase: that morning she had arranged them, they were rare and lovely plants; even now all aghast as she was, she observed their brilliant colours and starry shapes.--"Divine infoliations of the spirit of beauty," she exclaimed, "Ye droop not, neither do ye mourn; the despair that clasps my heart, has not spread contagion over you!--Why am I not a partner of your insensibility, a sharer in your calm!"
She paused. "To my task," she continued
All her efforts were now directed to the dissembling her internal conflict.
She had to play the part of a courteous hostess; to attend to all; to shine
the focus of enjoyment and grace. She had to do this, while in deep woe she
sighed for loneliness, and would gladly have exchanged her crowded rooms for
dark forest depths, or a drear, night-enshadowed heath. But she became gay.
She could not keep in the medium, nor be, as was usual with her, placidly
content. Every one remarked her exhilaration of spirits; as all actions
appear graceful in the eye of rank, her guests surrounded her applaudingly,
although
At length the rooms began to thin. Mocking her own desires, she rallied her
guests on their early departure. One by one they left her--at length she
pressed the hand of her last visitor. "How cold and damp your hand is," said
her friend; "you are over fatigued, pray hasten to rest." Perdita smiled
faintly--her guest left her; the carriage rolling down the street assured
At length she rose, more composed, not less miserable. She stood before a
large mirror--she gazed on her reflected image; her light and graceful
dress, the jewels that studded her hair, and encircled her beauteous arms
and neck, her small feet shod in satin, her profuse and glossy tresses, all
were to her clouded brow and woe-begone countenance like a gorgeous frame to
a dark tempest-pourtraying picture. "Vase am I," she thought, "vase brimful
of despair's
She threw open her window, which looked on the palace-garden. Light and
darkness were struggling together, and the orient was streaked by roseate
and golden rays. One star only trembled in the depth of the kindling
atmosphere. The morning air blowing freshly over the dewy plants, rushed
into the heated room. "All things go on," thought Perdita, "all things
proceed, decay, and perish! When noontide has passed, and the weary day has
driven her team to their western stalls, the fires of heaven rise from the
East, moving in their
"Ay, all proceeds and changes: what wonder then, that love has journied on to
its setting, and that the lord of my life has changed? We call the supernal
lights fixed, yet they wander about yonder plain, and if I look again where
I looked an hour ago, the face of the eternal heavens is altered. The silly
moon and inconstant planets vary nightly their erratic dance; the sun
itself, sovereign of the sky, ever and anon deserts his throne, and leaves
his dominion to night and winter. Nature grows old, and shakes in her
decaying limbs,--creation has