Chapter XIX

Who would not have believed, after so long a period of constancy and perseverance in the right path, that the follies of Angelo were for ever at an end? Far otherwise; the errors of the libertine are too frequently so imbued with the character, as to be invincible to the operation of time, experience, conscience, or reason, and to end but with the life of the wretched being they tyrannize over.

And on what had depended hitherto the virtue of Angelo? on what the peace of the unhappy Gabrielle? On accident alone; no meteor presenting itself to his eyes, no attraction offering, he walked directly forward, nothing occurring to lead him astray; he sought not temptation, if it sought not him, but if it did he became its slave. Ill fated Gabrielle, rejoice in the slender portion of happiness thou hast experienced, dream it o’er in imagination, for never more shalt thou experience its reality.

Novelty, in the form of Milborough, presented itself to Angelo, and he was incapable of resisting the attraction: it is not _age_ that checks the career of folly in the libertine--no, his follies then became _vices_, they degenerate into depravity; his feelings become vitiated, and he possesses no longer that choice delicacy of taste attendant on the pride of youth. Thus, from having been in an unguarded moment, by the influence of an idle boy, induced to pay a slight share of attention to a presumptuous menial, he found himself involuntarily interested, drawn frequently upon various pretexts to her apartment, and each time of seeing her, that she occupied, when out of her presence, an increased portion of his thoughts. Her artful demeanour tended greatly to strengthen those at first vague impressions; in it he saw, or fancied that he saw, a deep concealed love struggling with the profoundest respect, and most invincible timidity. If he entered suddenly, she started, blushed, and trembled, forgot her employment, hesitated, and knew not whether to stand or sit. If she chanced to meet him, which she likewise endeavoured to do as frequently as possible, she stood still, seeming undecided from confusion whether to pass him, or turn back. Angelo was convinced by these appearances, and while he compassionated an unhappy love, he involuntarily thought with tenderness of her who loved.

Mean time the conduct of Milborough towards Gabrielle was widely different from the respect she evinced for Angelo, and from what it had formerly been to herself; it was such precisely as a vulgar mind, impudently elate in anticipated good fortune, must manifest to one, whose high superiority it had presumed to envy. Gabrielle, mild as she was, became incensed at this change in the manners of a domestic, who had so much reason to persevere in a proper line of conduct, and she taxed her with her presumption in terms, for her, unusually severe. At her just reproof, the countenance of Milborough wore an audacious expression, between a sneer and a smile of triumph, and she deigned not to utter a sentence in mitigation of her faults.

It was the aim of this intriguing woman to bring as early as possible her plans to bear; she desired to provoke Gabrielle to dismiss her from her service, and while, to induce this result, she sought by the most unqualified insolence and offensive demeanour to try her patience beyond endurance, she caused Felix to represent to his father that she felt such symptoms of indisposition, as announced premature decay; at the same time artfully intimating to the youth that she wished her communications to be kept secret from all but himself, lest Gabrielle, who had become less kind to her than formerly, should insist on her removal; and then, with false tears, lamenting death only as it would deprive her of the happiness of seeing her dear Felix a man.

This was sufficient to hasten Felix, who for this worthless being possessed an affection far greater than for his amiable mother, to disclose to his father her most important secret. Angelo, with a momentary flutter at his heart, saw it was for him she pined--he felt interested; and half determined in his mind, that if Gabrielle, who was incapable of so unworthy an act, should dismiss the poor creature on account of ill health, to make it a point to do all that _humanity_ required of him to promote her comfort. Thus did he seek ever to blind himself to the real motives that in certain particulars actuated his conduct. He formed immediately a pretext for paying her a visit, and in the plenitude of a deceiving self-love, he conceived, on regarding her, that her cheek looked paler, and her form reduced. This idea gave an additional victory to that slow undermining power she was gaining over his heart, and caused him, when he discovered the increasing interest which he felt for her, to excuse himself with the vain reflection, that she was a female formed for a higher station than the one in which fortune had placed her.

While her mean and treacherous influence was thus gaining ground in the mind of Angelo, her conduct became daily more insufferable to the pride and feelings of Gabrielle. She at length determined to dismiss her, but in consequence of her having been, as she believed, a tender nurse to Felix, she decided, first to inform Angelo of the various causes she had received from her of provocation, and to ask his concurrence in her intention. Accordingly she took the first opportunity of introducing the subject, expressing at the same time her regret that the ingratitude of the woman at so late a period of her service, should have induced her reluctantly to entertain an ill opinion of her heart. Ere she had half concluded, Angelo interrupted her, and while his conscience smote him for the thought he cherished, he hastily exclaimed, “Why not at once discard her?”

“I intended to have informed you such was my wish,” observed Gabrielle.

“Why ask my concurrence, upon such a trifle,” he faltered with a slight blush:--“do it--do it this instant, if you choose.”

Gabrielle, who could see in this nothing but most ready acquiescence in her proposal, (for though she had sometimes been obliged to think _severely_ of Angelo, she had never yet thought _humbly_ of him,) dropped the subject as unworthy further discussion, simply resolving to put her purpose in immediate execution. Thus in a few hours Milborough received orders to quit the house; she only smiled at the mandate, and prepared to obey with alacrity. While she was busily employed, Angelo, led by one of those impulses he never knew how to resist, entered her apartment. Milborough, who had fully expected this visit, nevertheless affected surprise, forgot as usual in what she was engaged, and in the utmost agitation stood still. Angelo, scarcely conscious of the purport of his visit, regarded her with some embarrassment; he felt humbled, and ashamed of the situation in which he found himself, yet knew not how to retract. Milborough saw that an impellant was necessary; she raised her eyes to those of Angelo, and casting them hastily down again, burst into tears. This was sufficient for him, man becomes reassured when he perceives that the confusion of a woman is greater than his own; he approached Milborough, took her hand, and inquired the cause of her distress.

“Oh, my lord, do not ask me,” she cried; “am I not going to quit my beloved Felix? to quit you--your service, my lord?”

“And do you so much regret that, Milborough,” said Angelo, in a soothing voice. The tears of Milborough redoubled, but she did not speak, for she knew when to be silent. Angelo’s heart was softened by her seeming anguish; he raised to his lips the hand he held, unworthy Angelo! and causing Milborough to be seated, he said in the low voice of a man who is conscious that he is saying what he ought not, “Grieve not, Milborough; be assured, that although you quit this house, I shall ever remember you with gratitude for the--the tenderness you have evinced towards my son, and--and--”

“Talk not of gratitude to me, my lord,” cried Milborough with a sigh.

“Of love then, Milborough,” cried Angelo, with a smile. “But whither do you go from hence? inform me at once, for I hear Felix coming towards us.”

“I hear him too, my lord,” said Milborough with a timid glance; “and since--since you deign to ask me of my destination--I go to my sister, who resides at----” Felix drew nearer. Angelo approached his ear, and the rest of her communication was whispered; when, unwilling that just at this moment Felix should behold him with Milborough, he glided hastily through the door that led into the apartment where first he had become debased by attending to her. Miserable Angelo! how art thou sunk, when even from the presence of thy child, thou fliest in confusion!

Triumphing in the folly of the one, and the misery she was preparing for the other, the worthless Milborough quitted the house of her benefactors, where for years she had possessed all the comforts of polished life, and been cherished as the humble friend and well wisher of the family; in return she had insulted the wife, seduced the husband, and corrupted the child. Such too often is the return of the depraved and mercenary vulgar for favours received, on whom benefits make no impression beyond the moment, and in the vocabulary of whose sensations the feeling, gratitude is not admitted.

A new æra of folly, or rather of vice, in the life of Angelo, now presents itself; the vice no longer of youth either, but of maturer years, the most unworthy, the most inexcusable, of all his former vices. If in the seduction of Gabrielle might be pleaded an impetuous love, excited by her manifold perfections; if in forsaking such excellence, might be pleaded his natural fickleness, allured by the sprightliness and affected simplicity of an Oriana; if further outraging a love and sentiments of which he was unworthy, he could presume to offer in extenuation the ravishing beauty, youth, and seeming innocence of a Paulina; what could he urge, when neither youth, grace, mind, nor manners, could be adduced as the attraction? What but a cureless depravity of taste, which being satiated by that which is good, seeks to excite anew a sickly appetite, by a reference to that which is bad?

Milborough possessed nothing, impartially considered, to charm or to allure; she was neither beautiful nor young, nor from her birth and education could she possibly be even elegant; in all probability she would for ever have passed unnoticed by Angelo, had she not introduced herself to his attention by flattering his vanity. Instantly he discovered in her a thousand charms, which she possessed not, and which, but for that single inducement, he never would have conceived her to possess. Now he became weary of the sameness of being virtuous, though he was only negatively so, and longed again for the meretricious pleasures of guilt.

Thus then, after the departure of the worthless Milborough, his feet wandered from home towards her habitation; her joy at beholding him, though decorously she desired to veil it, scarcely could be concealed from his view. The first decisive step once taken, the successive ones were easy, and followed rapidly; visit produced visit; from frequency, grew familiarity, from familiarity a fixed and settled intercourse that ultimately involved the most terrible consequences.

For a time Milborough continued to pay court to the weak side of Angelo, which her keen vulgar cunning had discovered to be an inordinate vanity: this mode of conduct had first drawn him towards her, and now rivetted him, and when at times his own polished education, refined knowledge of customs, and propriety, would discover to him the gross inaccuracies of Milborough, he would excuse himself for being pleased with her society in the fancied conviction of her possessing an excellent heart, and in the flattering belief that if he were to abstain from seeing her, she would die of grief. But when once a vulgar mind gains an ascendancy over a weak one, its obsequiousness ends, and the fawning flatterer becomes a most insufferable tyrant; its requisitions are those of profound folly, ignorance, and boundless presumption; and such trammels are more difficult to be shaken off than those of wisdom or of virtue.

Such was Milborough: she waited patiently till she beheld her empire secure; that it was so she ascertained by increasing gradually her demands upon Angelo; and finding each time that they were complied with without a single remonstrance, although she well knew at the time, they were such as he must find it difficult to compass; for example, among other things, she once desired him to procure for her some jewels which she remembered to have seen Gabrielle wear, promising that she would return them immediately that she had used them once, and he might then replace them from whence he took them, ere Gabrielle could perceive that they were missing. The imprudent Angelo complied with this most insolent demand, when to his confusion she afterwards laughingly refused to resign them, and observing his embarrassment, vowed like a fury that she was determined to keep them, or never see him more.

Angelo, in the true spirit of the libertine, who requires a zest even to what he loves, was terrified at this threat; for though he might have endured a separation with indifference, had he found she trembled at the thought, yet when she became the instigator, he discovered in her charms which he had never seen before. But what resource had he in the dilemma in which he had unwarily involved himself? Unwilling to lead Gabrielle into the error of suspecting any one unjustly, unwilling to appear or to acknowledge himself a thief in her eyes, he had then only this alternative. He caused a set precisely similar to those he had deprived her of to be formed in paste, and replaced them in her cabinet ere, domestic and unadorned as she ever was, she had missed them. Oh! passion, when indulged for a worthless object, to what degradation wilt thou hurry man!

Mean time Gabrielle who had been for some time in ignorance of this disgraceful connexion, and who could not possibly suspect it, from having been accustomed to appreciate too highly the pride and dignity of Angelo, now heard of it from all with whom she had any acquaintance, who scarcely even imagined it a secret from her; her own servants were fully informed of the odious truth, and though they seemed indignant at the infamy of Milborough, and treated their mistress with increased respect, it was perhaps more from envy (which ever exists among the vulgar against each other) at the good fortune of the former, than sincere and generous sympathy in the outrage offered to the latter.

Indeed, the low minded Milborough did her utmost to impress upon the mind of Gabrielle, that these reports were far from being unfounded: she had an elegant establishment, and she disguised from no one, that it was the Count D’Albini who enabled her to support it; she had an equipage emblazoned with his arms, servants wearing his livery, and with these her base and insensible soul led her to parade in unblushing triumph past the door of her former mistress, in hopes of at some period attracting her attention. Sometimes she even carried her shameless audacity so far as to force into the seat beside her, the weak, degraded Angelo, who, fearing to refuse, was borne along to catch the view of her he was so cruelly insulting, yet not unblushing, but trembling like a culprit who hides his head, with shame, from the glance of a just judge.

Gabrielle saw, in silence saw, the career of Angelo, at a period of life when the wild horses of folly slacken their course, and reason, becoming powerful, calls them from the chace; when the soul desires to _rest_ from vain and ignoble pursuits, and experiences in the calm of a reformed and virtuous life, more happiness than was ever found in the palling irrational excesses of youth. She lived in the firm and pious hope, that each day would convince him more deeply of his misconduct, and that better reason must speedily prevail over what she considered the last ebullitions of expiring error.

Bitter adversity, frequent disappointment, had so rationalized as it were the firm mind of Gabrielle, that she now considered events rather in a philosophical point of view, as resulting from an inevitable necessity, and not therefore to be deeply or vainly lamented. In the pride of her youth and beauty, bitterly had she felt the derelictions of Angelo; but now with a humility that rendered her but more exalted, placing the rich treasures of her mind from the question, and estimating her personal charms even far below their real standard, she remembered that she was no longer so young or so attractive as formerly, and that the passions, tastes, and inclinations of men outliving, from their habits and mode of education, those of women, would sometimes lead them to pursue to a late period of life the means of indulging or gratifying them, and that therefore they were not to be too severely arraigned for faults almost implanted in their nature. Thus did she endeavour to excuse in Angelo, not only to herself, but to others, a conduct for which all who knew her despised and condemned him; and this she did, still cherishing hope, that her patience, toleration, and forbearance, must have ere long its effect over a good and honest heart, which still, spite of his errors, she believed Angelo’s to be. Neither could she think, as at first she could not credit _who_ it was that had attracted Angelo, that an object so every way despicable could continue to detain him in the path of evil.

But when at length hope faded from her bosom, and still she perceived that his degradation continued; heart-sick and wretched, she shut herself up in her chamber; and a native pride which few could understand, and which she inherited from her noble father, made her refuse to see any one whose pity must have humbled, and whose unfeeling condolence she would have deemed an insult. The unhappy Gabrielle perceived too soon, that in flattering herself the dreadful misconduct of Angelo would be but of short duration, she possessed not a just knowledge of human nature; for the errors of later years are far more inveterate than those of youth. She perceived likewise that what little decorum he had for a time thought fit to observe towards her, and which had been with her indeed a strong ground of hope (for naturally, argued she, he is ashamed, and will not therefore persevere in what gives a feeling of humiliation) gradually wore off, and a bold insensibility of demeanour succeeded, not more cruel and unworthy, than it was offensive to delicacy and propriety. He was now seldom at home, he avoided as much as possible the sight of the injured Gabrielle, but if accidentally they met, he seemed impatient, and his manners were constrained, or coldly polite. What alternative for her under circumstances so hopeless? She still remembered she had a son; at some future period she might be assured that she had still a daughter; she decided then at once to remain unshaken, to _bear_ and to _forbear_ with the father for the sake of his children.

Such was her resolution, a resolution, as she conceived, of duty and necessity. But soon she found that even on this principle she might be justly exonerated from further endurance of the treatment of Angelo, from the sacrifice of her best and tenderest feelings at the shrine of that duty which had ever been the invariable motive of all her actions, and to which she was still willing to become a martyr.

The young Felix, who, as has been already observed, entertained for his superior mother but little affection, bestowed all of that sentiment which he was capable of feeling on the abandoned Milborough, for whom he pined in secret, and whom since her departure from the house he had not seen. In vain did the unfortunate mother seek in the eyes of her son for some shadow of respectfully tender commiseration; in them she beheld, often a restless roving expression, but at all times an indifference to her. There was no eloquent sympathy in the tone of his voice; in his manners, no soothing gentleness; from him too was she compelled to turn with a deep drawn sigh of anguish, but in that sigh _remembered_ that though unhappily he loved her not, he was her son.

Such became the boundless and audacious extravagance of the worthless Milborough, whose aim it was as much to reduce Angelo to beggary, to destroy Gabrielle, as to enrich herself, that the magnitude of her demands sometimes anticipated, and even exceeded the receipts of Angelo. In his absence she kept the lowest society, such as was most consonant to her birth, ideas, and former station, and indulged with them in the most expensive and riotous carousals. As a man is rarely singly vicious, that is, vicious in a single point alone, Angelo, to support and gratify the unlimited profusion of this woman, found an excuse for resorting with increased ardour to what had ever been a favourite pursuit of his, the vice of gaming: success had attended him often, when as a pleasure merely he yielded to the propensity, but now that he resorted to it as a mean, while Milborough was draining him on one hand, this was impoverishing him on the other. Loss succeeded to loss, and his perpetual failure, so far from inducing him to withdraw, ere certain ruin should ensue, rendered him desperate, and caused him to persevere, in the delusive hope, that one fortunate throw would speedily retrieve all. He was mistaken however; fortune, fickle like himself, repaid him in kind, and fled from him when most he courted her.

It now remained only for the artful Milborough, who had found the pliant Angelo acceding, whether remonstratingly or otherwise, but still acceding to her every request, to propose to him one which in insolence and depravity should far exceed any which she had hitherto proposed. It was not enough for her, that by the most ruinous excesses, and shameless profligacy, she was shortening the life of Gabrielle, as she was abridging her means of existence, but she desired to injure her in a deeper degree, or rather to destroy her at once.

Aware that though she had weaned the love of Felix from his mother, yet aware likewise of her extravagant fondness for him, and considering that while he was no longer in the sphere of her attraction, nor capable of being contaminated by her influence, nature and the exquisite goodness of his unhappy parent might prevail in his heart, she determined to deprive Gabrielle of him, whom groundlessly she feared might prove a consolation to her in her misery; and for this purpose she demanded of Angelo, in that flattering fawning tone in which she usually solicited favours of him, and which, strange to say, seldom failed of producing its effect, that he would permit, as the highest gratification he could confer on her, that the boy Felix might visit her for one day, adding, “I know you will not refuse me, my dearest Angelo: you never look so captivating as when you grant my requests.” Angelo, with a pleased smile, while he absolutely considered her the most engaging female he had ever known, replied that he would think of what she required, secretly determining in his mind, without the smallest compassion for the feelings of the insulted Gabrielle, that he would surprise her that very evening with the sight of her favourite Felix.

Nothing could equal the sycophantic insidiousness of Milborough, when she wished to gain a point with Angelo, nothing her base deceit; she could be compared only to the snake, which gently coiling round the victim it wishes to destroy, twists tighter and more tight till its firm grasp can be no more disputed, and agonizing death ensues. Possessed of no internal dignity, no high-mindedness, the most abject meanness of conduct conveyed no unpleasant feeling to her heart: she flattered, and fawned, and crouched, when desiring a favour; she was arrogant, and daring, and insufferable, when she had obtained it--passing rapidly from the extreme of slave to tyrant. But if by a most unusual chance she did _not_ immediately obtain it, if Angelo dared to hesitate, then she had another line of acting in reserve; she ranted, stormed, and threatened that if he did not instantly comply, she would quit him suddenly, and he should never hear of her more; thus artfully bringing before him as a misfortune, that which would have been for him the greatest good that could have befallen.

Faithful to his intention, the degraded Angelo left her for the purpose of returning to her with Felix. As the youth was frequently a companion in his rambles, to the edification neither of his head nor heart, his going with him from home excited no remark from Gabrielle, but pleased her rather, from the so natural conviction that he could not be going to Milborough.

Felix neither asked nor cared whither he was going; he was going from home, from under the same roof with his ever melancholy mother, and his vivacity speedily revived, thoughtless and wild. Angelo made no observation with respect to the object he had in view, till they arrived at the door of an elegant habitation; as soon as they gained admittance, he ran up stairs, bade Felix follow, and in a moment he was in the presence of Milborough, who receiving him with open arms, scarcely knew how to express the exuberance of her joy.

Felix was now happy, he was with Milborough; he thought indeed she appeared less handsome, because less easy than in her homely attire, but she was more sprightly than his melancholy mother, and towards him at least was unaltered. Too young accurately to understand, he yet surmised something of the truth, and easily perceived that his favourite Milborough was likewise, as he had often wished her to be, a favourite with his father; he looked upon her as his _indulgent_ mother, who never exerted over him any authority like his _severe_ one, as he had been taught to consider the mild and gentle Gabrielle, and who, if she could see him happy, would never disapprove of the means by which he became so.

The education of the youth, independently of his little application, was, through the eternal procrastination and carelessness of Angelo, but very slightly improved; he feared to damp his young energies by ponderous and oppressive study, he remembered that he himself had never been pestered with school learning, and that he had parents (to the full as inconsiderate towards him as he was now towards his own son,) who would not suffer him to quit home, or to clog his sprightly genius, but procured for him a private tutor, under whom he made sufficient progress to qualify him for the rank and situation he was to hold in society; while from his mother he learnt affability and sweetness of manners, from his father, polite and elegant demeanour. Such then he insisted should alone be the education of Felix. Thus is error transmitted from father to son, and frequently perpetuated to the destruction of successive generations. A private tutor, Angelo observed, might be always obtained; mean time he could himself impart to his son some necessary instruction, and it was useless to deprive himself so precipitately of an entertaining companion and pleasing associate, of whom he was so extravagantly fond.

Thus, then, on Gabrielle devolved the task of fitting his young mind for future study, by imbuing it with a love of science and thirst of further knowledge. The stores of her own rich and elegantly fraught mind, fraught by the delicate and careful hand of a father, she desired to impart to her son, and fully adequate was she to the task: but Felix soon perceiving that no one but her attempted to restrain him, (for Angelo, unmindful even of his own arrangement, had no _leisure_ as yet to give instructions which he could at _any time_ impart,) and that his avocations with his mother detained him frequently from a pleasurable excursion with his father, or from some entertainment prepared for him by Milborough, conceived, from the imprudence and improper conduct of those around him, a disgust for study, which, at the insinuations of the domestic traitor, Milborough, who might have differently exerted her influence, was easily transferred into a dislike of her who taught. Thus, from the peculiarly unfortunate situation in which she was placed, Gabrielle perceived by slow degrees, and with an anguish inexpressible, her power over the mind of her son on the wane; he no longer attended to her implicitly, or if she succeeded in rivetting him for a moment, Angelo would too frequently call him off for some more agreeable, but more unprofitable pursuit. Felix by these means was induced rather to shun than court her society; and, in dismay at finding herself the only tyrant of the youth, her firm perseverance relaxed, for she felt that those instructions must be useless which were never received but with reluctance. Thus was a fine field left open for the suggestions of ignorance and depravity; for where wisdom and virtue were not suffered to take root, the weeds of error sprang up apace.

Milborough had asked of Angelo that he would permit Felix for _once_ to visit her; but her request only literally granted, would not have answered her purpose; she therefore having obtained possession of the youth, would no more suffer him to depart, but assured Angelo laughing, that having long this idea in view, she had had an apartment in readiness for him, for some time past. Angelo was confounded; he declined entering into any dispute with Milborough before his son, but flattered himself that he should easily prevail upon her to give up so indecorous and extravagant a caprice at another opportunity.

Mean time Felix, rejoiced to excess, was permitted to remain, and the abandoned Milborough carried as usual her point.