The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 77: what you’re looking at

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70 woman. “Yes—you have endured much indeed,” said Mr. Villiers, still more bitterly than before: “but it has been your own fault, Do you remember the inter- views I had with you in prison both prior and sub- sequent to your condemnation? Did you not exhibit every sien of the deepest contrition—utter every pos- sible vow of amendment? And what were the results? Arrived in the colony, you became unruly—profligate —a perfect scandal where all is seandalous—shameless where every thing is shameful——” “Listen to me, Clarence!” exclaimed his aunt, ris- ing from the sofa and advancing towards him: “it is so easy to reproach—but not so easy to admit of ex- tenuation for guilt. As God is my judge, my peni- tence in Newgate was sincere—my contrition un- feigned! I even longed for the hour of my departure to arrive, that I might for ever quif a country where T had played so vile a part, and tosome extent retrieve my character in a penal colony. But when I set foot on board the conyvict-ship, I found myself thrown into the depths of a very sink of immorality,—plunged into an infernal stew of profligacy, from which escape was impossible. I threw myself on my knees bofore the THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. a i ee ee colony where I have endured se much,” responded the pravity?” demanded Clarence, now speaking in a mild and even compassionate tone. “Most solemnly do I swear that such is tlie fact!” exclaimed his aunt, with an emphasis which spoke volumes in favour of her sincerity. “Then are you to be pitied, poor woman,” said Clarence; “and the Government of that day must bear all the blame of your relapse and subsequent de- pravity. But where is your daughter Ferdita!” ‘She is in the neighbourhood—waiting for me,” | was the answer. “I did not choose to bring her be- neath your roof. Indeed, naught save necessity— necessity the most stern—should have Ied me hither.” “ The accounts which I received from a correspon- dent at Sydney, spoke, alas! most unfavourably of your daughter,” observed Clarence. “ My God! could you not at least have saved her from entering the paths that lead to perdition?” “Behold, now, how ready you are to blame me!” cried his aunt, in a voice expressive of vexation. ‘I Was allotted as a servant to a free-settler in the penal colony; and the man made me his mistress. There was no compliance on my part in the first instance: ‘twas absolute compulsion. Then I yielded to my fate, seeing that it was useless to contend against it. ‘surgeon, and implored him to remove me from that | I had to work hard all day; and the moment Perdita dreadful assemblage of fiends in femaie shape: he | was able to run alone, she played in the streets with faughed at me, and bade me return to my piace. Then | tho other poor children of Sydney. I could not pre- my companions abused and ill-treated me for having | vent it—do all I would to endeavour to keep her in dared to complain;—and the babe which I bore in my arms was made the subject of the bitterest taunts and most cutting gibes. J had named her Perdita— as you well know—that her lost and hopeless condi- tion, through the infamy of her mother, might ever be retained fresh in my memory, and that the necessity of toiling bard and honourably for her might be im- pressed on my soul even by the warnmg nature of that very name, But, oh! those wretches, with whom I was forced to associate, levelled the most cruel jeers and jests against me on account of that innocent babe; because she was born in Newgate! And nothing is so galling—nothing so terribly afflicting—nothing so poignantly cutting, as to insult a woman through the medium of her illegitimate, helpless babe! Mv God! what bitter tears ] shed on buard that convict-ship,— tears which seemed to sear my very countenance as they fell, so scalding were they! Then the frightful scenes which were enacted in our cabin,—the quarrel- ling that took place, the imprecations that accom- panied even the simplest remark, the obscene tales that were told,—oh! it was horrible, horrible. J struggled against the contamination as mortal being never struggled befure;—but it was like a combat between a drowning person and the fury of a whelm- ing torrent,—a vain, ineffectual, and useless fight, in which I felt myself tv be completely powerless ;s— nntil, in despair, I resigned myself to the flood that was whirling me along in its triumphant course ;—and { found relief even in drinking of that feculent, fetid stream from which there was no escape. Yes—thus was I drawn down into the whirlpool of immoralities and profligacies on the brink of which the law placed me :—and if imy vows of contrition—my asseverations of penitence pruved so many delusions, you must blame the system to which I was subjected—and not mvself.” ‘Anddo you mean, then, to inform me that you endeavoure€ to be moral, reserved, pivus, and tranquil on board the convict-ship—but that it was impossible rwith her? doors. Well, at last I obtained a ticket of leave, and tried to earn a livelihood by the toil of my own hands, But to do this, I was compelled to be out all day ;— and then, where was Perdita? Where was she?” almost screamed the woman, becoming much excited: “ why—dost—as her name implies;—not lost as you Jose an object and can find it no more,—but lost morally -—irretrievably jost! ’Tis true that I im- parted to her as much knowledge as I myself pos- sessed or had leisure tc instil into her—and that to do this I deprived myself of my natural rest. But how could I teach her virtue?—how could I read the Bible My story was known throughout the colony ;—and Perdita learnt before even she had in- telligence to understand the meaning of the facts, that she was a bastard—born in Newgate, the great crimi- nal prison of London—and that her mother was every thing infamous and vile! My God! circumstances would not allow me to nurture her in moral ways, even if Lhad possessed the inclination: but by the time she was old enough to learn, I had myself become as deeply steeped in profligacy as any other woman in the colony. Can you wonder, then, that she soon fell into the ways of vice? Beautiful as she was—and is ~—she soon attracted notice ;—and your fine English officers—the gentlemicn sent out to protect the colony, —they wero the authors of her ruin—and they an couraged her in a career of infamy. Oh! Clarence. it is a frightful thing for me to stand before you—you, who are my own nephew—and have to make such horrible revelations: but you reproach me for my own wickedness—you would seck to represent me as the cause of my daughter’s wickedness—aud I am forced to explain to you the appalling nature of the influences acting upon us, and the circumstances surrounding us. Now—now, I could weep in humiliation ;—but an hour hence, J shall be obdurate and hardened as ever. The world has made me so.” “And now what do you propose to do?” enquired Clarence. “It is impossible for me even to advise you to avoid being dragged intc the common abyss of de- | in the frightful position in which you are placed, and eee GIOOKS (CO) (CO)