Julia (Chapter_9)

Chapter ninth 87 To Clifton

Realy, my dear friend, I see no sense why you should so bitterly reproach either yourself or me. But I forgive the {crude?} language you use toward me--Robbed your wife of your {af?} fections! You are unjust-If I became the object of affections, {which?} had long been alienated from her I see not how I am to {blame?} I am sure I can never regret that I professed virtue or charm, enough to attract your regard and it is ungratful in you to blame me for endeavouring to retain your inconstant heartAs to your fortune-If I have shared it- to your benevolence and not to any artifice of mine am I indebted for this { ?} of your attachment. Would it have been { ?} better, if it had been squandered at the gaming table? But I forgive you for your cruel insinuation-your letter was written under the influence of violent & angry passions-But why all your indignation is heaped on me it is hard to say. Methinks a wife, who {} { }affluence to herself, refuses to save a husband from ruin, is a worthier object of anger & indignation-who refuses even to sacrifice an unjust predjudice, a mere caprice, in order essentially to serve you-{Who?} shuts her door on her husband's friend, even when by so doing she loads that husband with the suspicion of unkindness & treachery, I bring down on him the just resentment of that {inpaired?} friend-she it seems to me is the person you ought to reproach & not me-

I certainly advised you in your difficulties to apply to your wife-could any thing be more natural. I told you too, that if kindness & solicitation could not prevail on her, I thought you ought to { } the rights & authority of a husband & force her to do what is certainly no more than her duty-my advice was that of good sense & sincere friendship. and yet for this you blame me-It was not I who advised the violence of which you have been guilty-For that blame rather those unruly passions which are always leading you into difficuty-most women would resent such language as you have used to me-perhaps I ought to-But I cannot-No Clifton, ungratful as you are, I will endeavour to serve you-to convince you that I have never

prejudiced Julia against Captain Mirvan. I promise you to { } all my influence over her mind (& that 's not small) to induce her to recall him & thus deprecate his resentment-But I think I have made a discovery which will elucidate the strange & capricious conduct of your wifeIt is so plain as day. How long is it since she frowned instead of smiling on the Captain? How long is it since she first refused to receive his visits! his daily visits! Ask Mirvan, he will calculate to the day, the hour, the moment-And at that precise day, hour & moment what happened? You know well her Brother, her beloved & long absent Brother arrived. Open your eyes my dear & too credulous friend-Be not the {dupe?} of appearances. If your friend Mirvan is banished, it is because her friend, the Brother has arrived-Come then-come quickly to your sincere & gratful friend, who though she pretend not to be virtuous, is, she avers the most devoted of women.-C.L.

To Captain Mervan,

"Revenge is sweet" you say & you say truly; I mon cher ami, will drink of this delightful cup, if you will be guided by my counsil. -Clifton, ungratful wretch, has branded me with reproaches, which, if I have not deserved hitherto I will deserve. The plan we laid for gaining you a readmission into your paradise, may have failed-It is not by violence such a woman as Julia is to be worked uponShe spurned his authority, but she will yield-take my word for it- Persevere & enforce the bond-when it comes to the point believe me, she will resign that precious visitor of hers-she will receive you, daring as you have been, rather than, see her once adored husband, the father of her darling children deprived of his liberty & his reputation. Her husband in a common jail! Never, never will she submit to such a humiliation -I know the stuff of which Julia's heart is made-such a sight will melt it to all you ask, wish, hope-But remember that melting moment must be revealed to me-you are not selfish & I deserve, methinks, something at your hands-Go on & prosper - the fruition of your hopes will be the consummation of mine, for weak & infatuated

as he is-I love him- Remember Julia & I can never be yours unless he is mine. - Burn this-

The most difficult part yet remained, even to Madam Luneville it was a difficult task to smear the semblance of genuine & tender friendship while her heart was consumed with jealousy & envy-but she wrote as follows.

To Mrs Clifton

Yes my dearest Julia, friendship shall be faithful, tho' Love betrays-betrays, that is a mild word when affixed to the treatment you have received fromk your evil & unjust husband. Harty & violent as I know his temper to be, I could not have believed it possible, he was so selfish, so base as to endeavour to force you to give up what yet remains of a fortune, which his extravagance has already so greatly reduced. He was mean, ungrateful- & then when he found he could not force your obedience, he thought to frighten you into compliance.-My poor child, my heart bleeds for you-And yet is partly your own fault, you have been too complying - too devoted--too fond. A wife who loves as you have loved, must always be a slave-

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I am glad that at last you have exerted a little resolution, tho' I much fear it will not be sufficient to carry you through the {track} that await you. Tho, handy as Clifton has acted you still love him. the husband of your youthful affections-the father of your children-with the forgiven, and never will you allow him to be loaded with charm, immuned in a dungeon- shut out from the light & air of heaven-I know you Julia, & not even the interests of your children will be sufficiently powerful to reach the tenderness of that tender heart.-What, can you, who have never heard the any of distress even from a beggar, without ministering instant relief, can you hear the groans of a husband-see him stretched in the cold-damp-floor of a dungeon-& leave him there-Tho, I know it to be impossible- I am not sure that my firmer nature could support such a sight-I know not whether he would or could not condemn you as inhuman were you to sacrifice your husband to your children

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And yet my beloved friend it must come to this, if you persist in refusing to admit the visits of Capt. Mirvan You guess rightly when you suppose your husband, under some other than the pecuniary obligation to his friend, as he calls Mirvan. A dreadful mystery, one I will not pain your gentle nature by revealing- puts his character, nay even his life in the power of the man whom you soundly mortified- Think of this Julia & do not carry your ideas of virtue too far, for the sake of a mere chimerra, do not run the risk of bringing ruin on your husband-, our children & yourself, for mere Captain Mirvan to put his threats into execution all these consequences would ensue.- Is there no virtue in saving your husband & children from perdition? And after all my child - what is the mighty price which you are to pay for their safety? Even according to your rigid notions, I can perceive nothing incompatible with your duty -

Captain Mirvan claims only to be admitted as a friend - he has declared to me, He [illegible] your friendship beyond the love of other women; that the enjoyment of your conversation, your society is all he covets & promises never to offend again, as he has already offended. Do not be silly child - to risk your husband's character - liberty, nay life, rather than receive the visits of a man, where admiration has carried him beyond the bounds your [prudery??] prescribed, for indeed my dear, it is mere [prudery??] - I repeat would not be virtue.- I must say, it argues but little confidence in yourself- Clifton has some right to accuse you of caprice, unkindness, when without any better reason than dislike to the man, you refused to admit the visits of a friend on whose forbearance he holds his life, character & liberty.- Yet you were right in concealing your real motive. A duel would certainly have been the consequence of his knowing the truth- One, or both might have fallen: had this been the case not only your peace - but your character would have irretrievably suffered, for the world would impute but one motive to such an affair - or even if they escaped with life - your reputation would have been destroyed as effectually, as if it had proved fatal. Guard then, your real motive never let your husband suspect that.-

should you however, influenced by what I have said, determine to forgive poor Mirvan and again receive him in your society, you can make a merit of it with your husband. It will open the way to a reconciliation--which after all must take place--Clifton who has so long been playing truant will be glad of the pretence to make his peace, which your compliance will offend. He will return home--then my dear, you will have an opportunity of weaning him from his present habits and companions, and he will have time to arrange his affairs and all will be well-And all this depends on you. Can you resist such strong motives--Forewith--I surely need add nothing more, if you are as sensible a woman and as fond a mother and good a wife as I take you for--I have already said more than enough. Farewell yours. C.L.

Every virtuous mind must recoil with horror, from such a development of the human heart as is made by the forgoing letter. That this horror should be excited is the design of the author in making the exhibition. It is only by pointing vice in all its deformity that the moralist can attain his end, which is to secure innocence from its seductions. The monster vice is of so hideous mien As to be hated, need but to be seen. Others with acclaim, that the picture is exaggerated and that such blackness and turpitude is not found in nature.--Would that this were true!--but alas real life exhibits examples and combinations of vice, beyond what Fancy could ever create; and the scriptures those fountains of all truth, pourtrays human nature in darker hues than the fableist would dare to do. It would be a far more pleasing task for the teacher of Morals and Religion to entice the youthful mind into the paths of virtue, by presenting only pictures of excellence and happiness, but this not being sufficient, it is likewise his duty to deter them from vice, by a display of its native deformity and its fatal consequences and however repugnant to taste or feeling, it is his duty to inhabit in the strongest contrast the, the loveliness and happiness of virtue--the misery and darkness of vice.