Pelham — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
History
Pelham — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Adventure stories; English fiction -- 19th century; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
“One violent and engrossing passion is among the worst of all
immoralities, for it leaves the mind too stagnant and exhausted for
those activities and energies which constitute our real duties. However,
now that the tyrant feeling of my mind was removed, I endeavoured
to shake off the apathy it had produced, and return to the various
occupations and businesses of life. Whatever could divert me from my own
dark memories, or give a momentary motion to the stagnation of my mind,
I grasped at with the fondness and eagerness of a child. Thus, you
found me surrounding myself with luxuries which palled upon my taste the
instant that their novelty had passed: now striving for the vanity of
literary fame; now, for the emptier baubles which riches could procure.
At one time I shrouded myself in my closet, and brooded over the dogmas
of the learned and the errors of the wise; at another, I plunged into
the more engrossing and active pursuits of the living crowd which rolled
around me,--and flattered my heart, that amid the applause of senators
and the whirlpool of affairs, I could lull to rest the voices of the
past and the spectre of the dead.
“Whether these hopes were effectual, and the struggle not in vain,
this haggard and wasting form, drooping day by day into the grave, can
declare; but I said I would not dwell long upon this part of my history,
nor is it necessary. Of one thing only, not connected with the main part
of my confessions, it is right, for the sake of one tender and guiltless
being, that I should speak.
“In the cold and friendless world with which I mixed, there was a heart
which had years ago given itself wholly up to me. At that time I was
ignorant of the gift I so little deserved, or (for it was before I knew
Gertrude) I might have returned it, and been saved years of crime and
anguish. Since then, the person I allude to had married, and, by the
death of her husband, was once more free. Intimate with my family,
and more especially with my sister, she now met me constantly; her
compassion for the change she perceived in me, both in mind and person,
was stronger than even her reserve, and this is the only reason why I
speak of an attachment which ought otherwise to be concealed: I believe
that you already understand to whom I allude, and since you have
discovered her weakness, it is right that you should know also her
virtue; it is right that you should learn that it was not in her the
fantasy or passion of a moment, but a long and secreted love; that
you should learn that it was her pity, and no unfeminine disregard to
opinion, which betrayed her into imprudence; and that she is, at this
moment, innocent of everything but the folly of loving me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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