Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 3 (of 3) — John Shaqi
Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 3 (of 3)Brown, Charles Brockden
History
Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 3 (of 3)
Brown, Charles Brockden
Gothic fiction; Philadelphia (Pa.) -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
I assume no merit from the desire of knowledge and superiority to
temptation. There is little of which I can boast; but that little I
derived, instrumentally, from Constantia. Poor as my attainments are, it
is to her that I am indebted for them all. Life itself was the gift of
her father, but my virtue and felicity are her gifts. That I am neither
indigent nor profligate, flows from her bounty.
I am not unaware of the divine superintendence,--of the claims upon my
gratitude and service which pertain to my God. I know that all physical
and moral agents are merely instrumental to the purpose that he wills;
but, though the great Author of being and felicity must not be
forgotten, it is neither possible nor just to overlook the claims upon
our love with which our fellow-beings are invested.
The supreme love does not absorb, but chastens and enforces, all
subordinate affections. In proportion to the rectitude of my perceptions
and the ardour of my piety, must I clearly discern and fervently love
the excellence discovered in my fellow-beings, and industriously promote
their improvement and felicity.
From my infancy to my seventeenth year, I lived in the house of Mr.
Dudley. On the day of my birth I was deserted by my mother. Her temper
was more akin to that of tigress than woman. Yet that is unjust; for
beasts cherish their offspring. No natures but human are capable of that
depravity which makes insensible to the claims of innocence and
helplessness.
But let me not recall her to memory. Have I not enough of sorrow? Yet to
omit my causes of disquiet, the unprecedented forlornness of my
condition, and the persecutions of an unnatural parent, would be to
leave my character a problem, and the sources of my love of Miss Dudley
unexplored. Yet I must not dwell upon that complication of iniquities,
that savage ferocity and unextinguishable hatred of me, which
characterized my unhappy mother.
I was not safe under the protection of Mr. Dudley, nor happy in the
caresses of his daughter. My mother asserted the privilege of that
relation: she laboured for years to obtain the control of my person and
actions, to snatch me from a peaceful and chaste asylum, and detain me
in her own house, where, indeed, I should not have been in want of
raiment and food; but where--
O my mother! Let me not dishonour thy name! Yet it is not in my power to
enhance thy infamy. Thy crimes, unequalled as they were, were perhaps
expiated by thy penitence. Thy offences are too well known; but perhaps
they who witnessed thy freaks of intoxication, thy defiance of public
shame, the enormity of thy pollutions, the infatuation that made thee
glory in the pursuit of a loathsome and detestable trade, may be
strangers to the remorse and the abstinence which accompanied the close
of thy ignominious life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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