Books: Peg Woffington
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Charles Reade >> Peg Woffington
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"It is abominable!" cried Triplet fiercely. "And she who sat in my
seat--in his house, and in his heart--was this lady, the actress you so
praised to me?"
"That lady, ma'am," said Triplet, "has been deceived as well as you."
"I am convinced of it," said Mabel.
"And it is my painful duty to tell you, madam, that, with all her talents
and sweetness, she has a fiery temper; yes, a very fiery temper,"
continued Triplet, stoutly, though with an uneasy glance in a certain
direction; "and I have reason to believe she is angry, and thinks more of
her own ill-usage than yours. Don't you go near her. Trust to my
knowledge of the sex, madam; I am a dramatic writer. Did you ever read
the 'Rival Queens'?"
"No."
"I thought not. Well, madam, one stabs the other, and the one that is
stabbed says things to the other that are more biting than steel. The
prudent course for you is to keep apart, and be always cheerful, and
welcome him with a smile--and--have you read 'The Way to keep him'?"
"No, Mr. Triplet," said Mabel, firmly, "I cannot feign. Were I to attempt
talent and deceit, I should be weaker than I am now. Honesty and right
are all my strength. I will cry to her for justice and mercy. And if I
cry in vain, I shall die, Mr. Triplet, that is all."
"Don't cry, dear lady," said Triplet, in a broken voice.
"It is impossible!" cried she, suddenly. "I am not learned, but I can
read faces. I always could, and so could my Aunt Deborah before me. I
read you right, Mr. Triplet, and I have read her too. Did not my heart
warm to her among them all? There is a heart at the bottom of all her
acting, and that heart is good and noble."
"She is, madam! she is! and charitable too. I know a family she saved
from starvation and despair. Oh, yes! she has a heart--to feel for the
_poor,_ at all events."
"And am I not the poorest of the poor?" cried Mrs. Vane. "I have no
father nor mother, Mr. Triplet; my husband is all I have in the
world--all I _had,_ I mean."
Triplet, deeply affected himself, stole a look at Mrs. Woffington. She
was pale; but her face was composed into a sort of dogged obstinacy. He
was disgusted with her. "Madam," said he, sternly, "there is a wild beast
more cruel and savage than wolves and bears; it is called 'a rival,' and
don't you get in its way."
At this moment, in spite of Triplet's precaution, Mrs. Vane, casting her
eye accidentally round, caught sight of the picture, and instantly
started up, crying, "She is there!" Triplet was thunderstruck. "What
likeness!" cried she, and moved toward the supposed picture.
"Don't go to it!" cried Triplet, aghast; "the color is wet."
She stopped; but her eye and her very soul dwelt upon the supposed
picture; and Triplet stood quaking. "How like! It seems to breathe. You
are a great painter, sir. A glass is not truer."
Triplet, hardly knowing what he said, muttered something about "critics
and lights and shades."
"Then they are blind!" cried Mabel, never for a moment removing her eye
from the object. "Tell me not of lights and shades. The pictures I see
have a look of paint; but yours looks like life. Oh, that she were here,
as this _wonderful_ image of hers is. I would speak to her. I am not wise
or learned; but orators never pleaded as I would plead to her for my
Ernest's heart." Still her eye glanced upon the picture; and I suppose
her heart realized an actual presence, though her judgment did not; for
by some irresistible impulse she sank slowly down and stretched her
clasped hands toward it, while sobs and words seemed to break direct from
her bursting heart. "Oh, yes! you are beautiful, you are gifted, and the
eyes of thousands wait upon your very word and look. What wonder that he,
ardent, refined, and genial, should lay his heart at your feet? And I
have nothing but my love to make him love me. I cannot take him from you.
Oh, be generous to the weak! Oh, give him back to me! What is one heart
more to you? You are so rich, and I am so poor, that without his love I
have nothing, and can do nothing but sit me down and cry till my heart
breaks. Give him back to me, beautiful, terrible woman! for, with all
your gifts, you cannot love him as his poor Mabel does; and I will love
you longer perhaps than men can love. I will kiss your feet, and Heaven
above will bless you; and I will bless you and pray for you to my dying
day. Ah! it is alive! I am frightened! I am frightened!" She ran to
Triplet and seized his arm. "No!" cried she, quivering close to him; "I'm
not frightened, for it was for me she-- Oh, Mrs. Woffington!" and, hiding
her face on Mr. Triplet's shoulder, she blushed, and wept, and trembled.
What was it had betrayed Mrs. Woffington? _A tear!_
During the whole of this interview (which had taken a turn so unlooked
for by the listener) she might have said with Beatrice, "What fire is in
mine ears?" and what self-reproach and chill misgiving in her heart too.
She had passed through a hundred emotions, as the young innocent wife
told her sad and simple story. But, anxious now above all things to
escape without being recognized--for she had long repented having
listened at all, or placed herself in her present position-- she fiercely
mastered her countenance; but, though she ruled her features, she could
not rule her heart. And when the young wife, instead of inveighing
against her, came to her as a supplicant, with faith in her goodness, and
sobbed to her for pity, a big tear rolled down her cheek, and proved her
something more than a picture or an actress.
Mrs. Vane, as we have related, screamed and ran to Triplet.
Mrs. Woffington came instantly from her frame, and stood before them in a
despairing attitude, with one hand upon her brow. For a single moment her
impulse was to fly from the apartment, so ashamed was she of having
listened, and of meeting her rival in this way; but she conquered this
feeling, and, as soon as she saw Mrs. Vane too had recovered some
composure, she said to Triplet, in a low but firm voice:
"Leave us, sir. No living creature must hear what I say to this lady!"
Triplet remonstrated, but Mrs. Vane said, faintly:
"Oh, yes, good Mr. Triplet, I would rather you left me."
Triplet, full of misgivings, was obliged to retire.
"Be composed, ladies," said he piteously. "Neither of you could help it;"
and so he entered his inner room, where he sat and listened nervously,
for he could not shake off all apprehension of a personal encounter.
In the room he had left there was a long, uneasy silence. Both ladies
were greatly embarrassed. It was the actress who spoke first. All trace
of emotion, except a certain pallor, was driven from her face. She spoke
with very marked courtesy, but in tones that seemed to freeze as they
dropped one by one from her mouth.
"I trust, madam, you will do me the justice to believe I did not know Mr.
Vane was married?"
"I am sure of it!" said Mabel, warmly. "I feel you are as good as you are
gifted."
"Mrs. Vane, I am not!" said the other, almost sternly. "You are
deceived!"
"Then Heaven have mercy on me! No! I am not deceived, you pitied me. You
speak coldly now; but I know your face and your heart--you pity me!"
"I do respect, admire, and pity you," said Mrs. Woffington, sadly; "and I
could consent nevermore to communicate with your--with Mr. Vane."
"Ah!" cried Mabel; "Heaven will bless you! But will you give me back his
heart?"
"How can I do that?" said Mrs. Woffington, uneasily; she had not
bargained for this.
"The magnet can repel as well as attract. Can you not break your own
spell? What will his presence be to me, if his heart remain behind?"
"You ask much of me."
"Alas! I do."
"But I could do even this." She paused for breath. "And perhaps if you,
who have not only touched my heart, but won my respect, were to say to
me, 'Do so,' I should do it." Again she paused, and spoke with
difficulty; for the bitter struggle took away her breath. "Mr. Vane
thinks better of me than I deserve. I have--only--to make him believe
me--worthless--worse than I am--and he will drop me like an adder--and
love you better, far better--for having known--admired--and despised
Margaret Woffington."
"Oh!" cried Mabel, "I shall bless you every hour of my life." Her
countenance brightened into rapture at the picture, and Mrs. Woffington's
darkened with bitterness as she watched her.
But Mabel reflected. "Rob you of your good name?" said this pure
creature. "Ah, Mabel Vane! you think but of yourself."
"I thank you, madam," said Mrs. Woffington, a little touched by this
unexpected trait; "but some one must suffer here, and--"
Mabel Vane interrupted her. "This would be cruel and base," said she
firmly. "No woman's forehead shall be soiled by me. Oh, madam! beauty is
admired, talent is adored; but virtue is a woman's crown. With it, the
poor are rich; without it, the rich are poor. It walks through life
upright, and never hides its head for high or low."
Her face was as the face of an angel now; and the actress, conquered by
her beauty and her goodness, actually bowed her head and gently kissed
the hand of the country wife whom she had quizzed a few hours ago.
Frailty paid this homage to virtue!
Mabel Vane hardly noticed it; her eye was lifted to heaven, and her heart
was gone there for help in a sore struggle.
"This would be to assassinate you; no less. And so, madam," she sighed,
"with God's help, I do refuse your offer; choosing rather, if needs be,
to live desolate, but innocent--many a better than I hath lived so--ay!
if God wills it, to die, with my hopes and my heart crushed, but my hands
unstained; for so my humble life has passed."
How beautiful, great, and pure goodness is! It paints heaven on the face
that has it; it wakens the sleeping souls that meet it.
At the bottom of Margaret Woffington's heart lay a soul, unknown to the
world, scarce known to herself--a heavenly harp, on which ill airs of
passion had been played--but still it was there, in tune with all that is
true, pure, really great and good. And now the flush that a great heart
sends to the brow, to herald great actions, came to her cheek and brow.
"Humble!" she cried. "Such as you are the diamonds of our race. You angel
of truth and goodness, you have conquered!"
"Oh, yes! yes! Thank God, yes!"
"What a fiend I must be could I injure you! The poor heart we have both
overrated shall be yours again, and yours for ever. In my hands it is
painted glass; in the luster of a love like yours it may become a
priceless jewel." She turned her head away and pondered a moment, then
suddenly offered to Mrs. Vane her hand with nobleness and majesty; "Can
you trust me?" The actress too was divinely beautiful now, for her good
angel shone through her.
"I could trust you with my life!" was the reply.
"Ah! if I might call you friend, dear lady, what would I not
do--suffer--resign--to be worthy that title!"
"No, not friend!" cried the warm, innocent Mabel; "sister! I will call
you sister. I have no sister."
"Sister!" said Mrs. Woffington. "Oh, do not mock me! Alas! you do not
know what you say. That sacred name to me, from lips so pure as yours.
Mrs. Vane," said she, timidly, "would you think me presumptuous if I
begged you to--to let me kiss you?"
The words were scarce spoken before Mrs. Vane's arms were wreathed round
her neck, and that innocent cheek laid sweetly to hers.
Mrs. Woffington strained her to her bosom, and two great hearts, whose
grandeur the world, worshiper of charlatans, never discovered, had found
each other out and beat against each other. A great heart is as quick to
find another out as the world is slow.
Mrs. Woffington burst into a passion of tears and clasped Mabel tighter
and tighter in a half-despairing way. Mabel mistook the cause, but she
kissed her tears away.
"Dear sister," said she, "be comforted. I love you. My heart warmed to
you the first moment I saw you. A woman's love and gratitude are
something. Ah! you will never find me change. This is for life, look
you."
"God grant it!" cried the other poor woman. "Oh, it is not that, it is
not that; it is because I am so little worthy of this. It is a sin to
deceive you. I am not good like you. You do not know me!"
"You do not know yourself if you say so!" cried Mabel; and to her hearer
the words seemed to come from heaven. "I read faces," said Mabel. "I read
yours at sight, and you are what I set you down; and nobody must breathe
a word against you, not even yourself. Do you think I am blind? You are
beautiful, you are good, you are my sister, and I love you!"
"Heaven forgive me!" thought the other. "How can I resign this angel's
good opinion? Surely Heaven sends this blessed dew to my parched heart!"
And now she burned to make good her promise and earn this virtuous wife's
love. She folded her once more in her arms, and then, taking her by the
hand, led her tenderly into Triplet's inner room. She made her lie down
on the bed, and placed pillows high for her like a mother, and leaned
over her as she lay, and pressed her lips gently to her forehead. Her
fertile brain had already digested a plan, but she had resolved that this
pure and candid soul should take no lessons of deceit. "Lie there," said
she, "till I open the door: then join us. Do you know what I am going to
do? I am not going to restore you your husband's heart, but to show you
it never really left you. You read faces; well, I read circumstances.
Matters are not as you thought," said she, with all a woman's tact. "I
cannot explain, but you will see." She then gave Mrs. Triplet peremptory
orders not to let her charge rise from the bed until the preconcerted
signal.
Mrs. Vane was, in fact, so exhausted by all she had gone through that she
was in no condition to resist. She cast a look of childlike confidence
upon her rival, and then closed her eyes, and tried not to tremble all
over and listen like a frightened hare.
-----
It is one great characteristic of genius to do great things with little
things. Paxton could see that so small a matter as a greenhouse could be
dilated into a crystal palace, and with two common materials--glass and
iron--he raised the palace of the genii; the brightest idea and the
noblest ornament added to Europe in this century--the koh-i-noor of the
west. Livy's definition of Archimedes goes on the same ground.
-----
Peg Woffington was a genius in her way. On entering Triplet's studio her
eye fell upon three trifles--Mrs. Vane's hood and mantle, the back of an
old letter, and Mr. Triplet. (It will be seen how she worked these slight
materials.) On the letter was written in pencil simply these two words,
"Mabel Vane." Mrs. Woffington wrote above these words two more, "Alone
and unprotected." She put this into Mr. Triplet's hand, and bade him take
it down stairs and give it Sir Charles Pomander, whose retreat, she knew,
must have been fictitious. "You will find him round the corner," said
she, "or in some shop that looks this way." While uttering these words
she had put on Mrs. Vane's hood and mantle.
No answer was returned, and no Triplet went out of the door.
She turned, and there he was kneeling on both knees close under her.
"Bid me jump out of that window, madam; bid me kill those two gentlemen,
and I will not rebel. You are a great lady, a talented lady; you have
been insulted, and no doubt blood will flow. It ought--it is your due;
but that innocent lady, do not compromise her!"
"Oh, Mr. Triplet, you need not kneel to me. I do not wish to force you to
render me a service. I have no right to dictate to you."
"Oh, dear!" cried Triplet, "don't talk in that way. I owe you my life,
but I think of your own peace of mind, for you are not one to be happy if
you injure the innocent!" He rose suddenly, and cried: "Madam, promise me
not to stir till I come back!"
"Where are you going?"
"To bring the husband to his wife's feet, and so save one angel from
despair, and another angel from a great crime."
"Well, I suppose you are wiser than I," said she. "But, if you are in
earnest, you had better be quick, for somehow I am rather changeable
about these people."
"You can't help that, madam, it is your sex; you are an angel. May I be
permitted to kiss your hand? you are all goodness and gentleness at
bottom. I fly to Mr. Vane, and we will be back before you have time to
repent, and give the Devil the upper hand again, my dear, good, sweet
lady!"
Away flew Triplet, all unconscious that he was not Mrs. Woffington's
opponent, but puppet. He ran, he tore, animated by a good action, and
spurred by the notion that he was in direct competition with the fiend
for the possession of his benefactress. He had no sooner turned the
corner than Mrs. Woffington, looking out of the window, observed Sir
Charles Pomander on the watch, as she had expected. She remained at the
window with Mrs. Vane's hood on, until Sir Charles's eye in its
wanderings lighted on her, and then, dropping Mrs. Vane's letter from the
window, she hastily withdrew.
Sir Charles eagerly picked it up. His eye brightened when he read the
short contents. With a self-satisfied smile he mounted the stair. He
found in Triplet's house a lady who seemed startled at her late
hardihood. She sat with her back to the door, her hood drawn tightly
down, and wore an air of trembling consciousness. Sir Charles smiled
again. He knew the sex, at least he said so. (It is an assertion often
ventured upon.) Accordingly Sir Charles determined to come down from his
height, and court nature and innocence in their own tones. This he
rightly judged must be the proper course to take with Mrs. Vane. He fell
down with mock ardor upon one knee.
The supposed Mrs. Vane gave a little squeak.
"Dear Mrs. Vane," cried he, "be not alarmed; loveliness neglected, and
simplicity deceived, insure respect as well as adoration. Ah!" (A sigh.)
"Oh, get up, sir; do, please. Ah!" (A sigh.)
"You sigh, sweetest of human creatures. Ah! why did not a nature like
yours fall into hands that would have cherished it as it deserves? Had
Heaven bestowed on me this hand, which I take--"
"Oh, please, sir--"
"With the profoundest respect, would I have abandoned such a treasure for
an actress?--a Woffington! as artificial and hollow a jade as ever winked
at a side box!"
"Is she, sir?"
"Notorious, madam. Your husband is the only man in London who does not
see through her. How different are you! Even I, who have no taste for
actresses, found myself revived, refreshed, ameliorated by that engaging
picture of innocence and virtue you drew this morning; yourself the
bright and central figure. Ah, dear angel! I remember all your favorites,
and envy them their place in your recollections. Your Barbary mare--"
"Hen, sir!
"Of course I meant hen; and Gray Gillian, his old nurse--"
"No, no, no! she is the mare, sir. He! he! he!"
"So she is. And Dame--Dame--"
"Best!"
"Ah! I knew it. You see how I remember them all. And all carry me back to
those innocent days which fleet too soon--days when an angel like you
might have weaned me from the wicked pleasures of the town, to the placid
delights of a rural existence!"
"Alas, sir!"
"You sigh. It is not yet too late. I am a convert to you; I swear it on
this white hand. Ah! how can I relinquish it, pretty fluttering
prisoner?"
"Oh, please--"
"Stay a while."
"No! please, sir--"
"While I fetter thee with a worthy manacle." Sir Charles slipped a
diamond ring of great value upon his pretty prisoner.
"La, sir, how pretty!" cried innocence.
Sir Charles then undertook to prove that the luster of the ring was
faint, compared with that of the present wearer's eyes. This did not suit
innocence; she hung her head and fluttered, and showed a bashful
repugnance to look her admirer in the face. Sir Charles playfully
insisted, and Mrs. Woffington was beginning to be a little at a loss,
when suddenly voices were heard upon the stairs.
_"My husband!"_ cried the false Mrs. Vane, and in a moment she rose and
darted into Triplet's inner apartment.
Mr. Vane and Mr. Triplet were talking earnestly as they came up the
stair. It seems the wise Triplet had prepared a little dramatic scene for
his own refreshment, as well as for the ultimate benefit of all parties.
He had persuaded Mr. Vane to accompany him by warm, mysterious promises
of a happy _denouement;_ and now, having conducted that gentleman as far
as his door, he was heard to say:
"And now, sir, you shall see one who waits to forget grief,
suspicion--all, in your arms. Behold!" and here he flung the door open.
"The devil!"
"You flatter me!" said Pomander, who had had time to recover his
_aplomb,_ somewhat shaken, at first, by Mr. Vane's inopportune arrival.
Now it is to be observed that Mr. Vane had not long ago seen his wife
lying on her bed, to all appearance incapable of motion.
Mr. Vane, before Triplet could recover his surprise, inquired of Pomander
why he had sent for him. "And what," added he, "is the grief, suspicion,
I am, according to Mr. Triplet, to forget in your arms?"
Mr. Vane added this last sentence in rather a testy manner.
"Why, the fact is--" began Sir Charles, without the remotest idea of what
the fact was going to be.
"That Sir Charles Pomander--" interrupted Triplet.
"But Mr. Triplet is going to explain," said Sir Charles, keenly.
"Nay, sir; be yours the pleasing duty. But, now I think of it," resumed
Triplet, "why not tell the simple truth? it is not a play! She I brought
you here to see was not Sir Charles Pomander; but--"
"I forbid you to complete the name!" cried Pomander.
"I command you to complete the name!" cried Vane.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen! how can I do both?" remonstrated Triplet.
"Enough, sir!" cried Pomander. "It is a lady's secret. I am the guardian
of that lady's honor."
"She has chosen a strange guardian of her honor!" said Vane bitterly.
Gentlemen!" cried poor Triplet, who did not at all like the turn things
were taking, "I give you my word, she does not even know of Sir Charies's
presence here!"
"Who?" cried Vane, furiously. "Man alive! who are you speaking of?"
"Mrs. Vane
"My wife!" cried Vane, trembling with anger and jealousy. "She here! and
with this man?"
"No!" cried Triplet. "With me, with me! Not with him, of course."
"Boaster!" cried Vane, contemptuously. "But that is a part of your
profession!"
Pomander, irritated, scornfully drew from his pocket the ladies' joint
production, which had fallen at his feet from Mrs. Woffington's hand. He
presented this to Mr. Vane, who took it very uneasily; a mist swam before
his eyes as he read the words: "Alone and unprotected--Mabel Vane." He
had no sooner read these words, than he found he loved his wife; when he
tampered with his treasure, he did not calculate on another seeking it.
This was Pomander's hour of triumph! He proceeded coolly to explain to
Mr. Vane, that, Mrs. Woffington having deserted him for Mr. Vane, and Mr.
Vane his wife for Mrs. Woffington, the bereaved parties had, according to
custom, agreed to console each other.
This soothing little speech was interrupted by Mr. Vane's sword flashing
suddenly out of its sheath; while that gentleman, white with rage and
jealousy, bade him instantly take to his guard, or be run through the
body like some noxious animal.
Sir Charles drew his sword, and, in spite of Triplet's weak interference,
half a dozen passes were rapidly exchanged, when suddenly the door of the
inner room opened, and a lady in a hood pronounced, in a voice which was
an excellent imitation of Mrs. Vane's, the word, "False!"
The combatants lowered their points.
"You hear, sir!" cried Triplet.
"You see, sir!" said Pomander.
"Mabel! -- wife!" cried Mr. Vane, in agony. "Oh, say this is not true!
Oh, say that letter is a forgery! Say, at least, it was by some treachery
you were lured to this den of iniquity! Oh, speak!"
The lady silently beckoned to some person inside.
"You know I loved you--you know how bitterly I repent the infatuation
that brought me to the feet of another!"
The lady replied not, though Vane's soul appeared to hang upon her
answer. But she threw the door open and there appeared another lady, the
real Mrs. Vane. Mrs. Woffington then threw off her hood, and, to Sir
Charles Pomander's consternation, revealed the features of that ingenious
person, who seemed born to outwit him.
"You heard that fervent declaration, madam?" said she to Mrs. Vane. "I
present to you, madam, a gentleman who regrets that he mistook the real
direction of his feelings. And to you, sir," continued she, with great
dignity, "I present a lady who will never mistake either her feelings or
her duty."
"Ernest! dear Ernest!" cried Mrs. Vane, blushing as if she was the
culprit. And she came forward all love and tenderness.
Her truant husband kneeled at her feet of course. No! he said, rather
sternly, "How came you here, Mabel?"
"Mrs. Vane," said the actress, "fancied you had mislaid that weathercock,
your heart, in Covent Garden, and that an actress had seen in it a fit
companion for her own, and had feloniously appropriated it. She came to
me to inquire after it."
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