The Romance of the Forest
Interspersed with some Pieces of Poetry.
by
Ann Radcliffe
eBooks@Adelaide
2004
For offline reading, the complete set of pages is available for download
from http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/r/radcliffe/ann/forest/forest.zip
The complete work is also available as a single file, at
http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/r/radcliffe/ann/forest/complete.html
A MARC21 Catalogue record for this edition can be downloaded from
http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/r/radcliffe/ann/forest/marc.bib
eBooks@Adelaide
The University of Adelaide Library
University of Adelaide
South Australia 5005
CHAPTER 1
"I am a man,
So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
That I would set my life on any chance,
To mend it, or be rid on't."
"When once sordid interest seizes on the heart, it freezes up the source
of every warm and liberal feeling; it is an enemy alike to virtue and to
taste Ñ this it perverts, and that it annihilates. The time may come, my
friend, when death shall dissolve the sinews of avarice, and justice be
permitted to resume her rights."
Such were the words of the Advocate Nemours to Pierre de la Motte, as
the latter stept at midnight into the carriage which was to bear him far
from Paris, from his creditors and the persecution of the laws. De la
Motte thanked him for this last instance of his kindness; the assistance
he had given him in escape; and, when the carriage drove away, uttered
a sad adieu! The gloom of the hour, and the peculiar emergency of his
circumstances, sunk him in silent reverie.
Whoever has read Guyot de Pitaval, the most faithful of those writers
who record the proceedings in the Parliamentary Courts of Paris,
during the seventeenth century, must surely remember the striking story
of Pierre de la Motte, and the Marquis Phillipe de Montalt: let all such,
therefore, be informed, that the person here introduced to their notice
was that individual Pierre de la Motte.
As Madame de la Motte leaned from the coach window, and gave a last
look to the walls of Paris Ñ Paris, the scene of her former happiness,
and the residence of many dear friends Ñ the fortitude, which had till
now supported her, yielded to the force of grief. "Farewell all!" sighed
she, "this last look and we are separated for ever!" Tears followed her
words, and, sinking back, she resigned herself to the stillness of sorrow.
The recollection of former times pressed heavily upon her heart: a few
months before and she was surrounded by friends, fortune, and
consequence; now she was deprived of all, a miserable exile from her
native place, without home, without comfort Ñ almost without hope. It
was not the least of her afflictions that she had been obliged to quit
Paris without bidding adieu to her only son, who was now on duty with
his regiment in Germany: and such had been the precipitancy of this
removal, that had she even known where he was stationed, she had no
time to inform him of it, or of the alteration in his father's
circumstances.
Pierre de la Motte was a gentleman, descended from an ancient house
of France. He was a man whose passions often overcame his reason,
and, for a time, silenced his conscience; but, through the image of
virtue, which Nature had impressed upon his heart, was sometimes
obscured by the passing influence of vice, it was never wholly
obliterated. With strength of mind sufficient to have withstood
temptation, he would have been a good man; as it was, he was always a
weak, and sometimes a vicious member of society: yet his mind was
active, and his imagination vivid, which, co-operating with the force of
passion, often dazzled his judgement and subdued principle. Thus he
was a man, infirm in purpose and visionary in virtue: in a word, his
conduct was suggested by feeling, rather than principle; and his virtue,
such as it was, could not stand the pressure of occasion.
Early in life he had married Constance Valentia, a beautiful and elegant
woman, attached to her family and beloved by them. Her birth was
equal, her fortune superior to his; and their nuptials had been celebrated
under the auspices of an approving and flattering world. Her heart was
devoted to La Motte, and, for some time, she found in him an
affectionate husband; but, allured by the gaieties of Paris, he was soon
devoted to its luxuries, and in a few years his fortune and affection
were equally lost in dissipation. A false pride had still operated against
his interest, and withheld him from honourable retreat while it was yet
in his power: the habits, which he had acquired, enchained him to the
scene of his former pleasure; and thus he had continued an expensive
stile of life till the means of prolonging it were exhausted. He at length
awoke from this lethargy of security; but it
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