CHAP. XIV.
memoirs of baron s******.
"Should these memoirs ever fall into the hands of an intelligent being, let him mark the instability of expected happiness; let him learn to detest the fascinating charms of false, deceitful woman, and to beware of the insidious arts, the treacherous designs of base, perfidious man; let suspicion mark his eye, and caution guide his judgment; let him shun the syren woman, turn his ears from the delusive voice of pleasure, and lock his bosom close from professions of friendship, which tend only to deceive, and under a specious covering envelop the most treacherous designs. Should those cautions be read too late to preserve him from the machinations of the deceitful heart, then let him learn from me the triumph of Revenge!!!"
"My father was a Bavarian Baron, but supporting his rank with that splendour necessary to keep his vassals in awe, and give consequence to his dignity at Court, he diminished the value of those estates bequeathed to him by his ancestors, and left me possessed of equal pride, ambition, and desire of grandeur and magnificence, without a capability of gratifying either. Unable to appear at Court with the consequence attached to my title, I retired to my estate, and sought, in the submissive obedience of my vassals, and in the authoritative and sullen grandeur I assumed over them, a consolation for that retirement disappointed ambition had driven me to choose, as a smaller evil than supporting the arrogance of riches, where there could be no superiority of birth to my own. Five years I dragged on an inactive life without enjoying any advantages from my seclusion, but what arose from lording it over my tenantry, without knowing the blessings of society, for there were none I deigned to converse with. In a kind of gloomy magnificence that was confined to my own estate, which inspired awe, but which repressed love or reverence, I passed my days in riding over the same track of ground which had no variety, and my nights in constant regrets for the loss of that consequence I was born to assume, but which the prodigality of my ancestors had compelled me to resign.
"One day, attended by several of my vassals, I was riding round the skirts of a wood which bounded my estate, when I was suddenly alarmed by quick and repeated shrieks that seemed to issue from the wood: I instantly rode to the side from whence the voice proceeded, and in a few moments perceived a carriage surrounded by four or five banditti, and two horsemen laying dead in the road. The appearance of myself and servants, who sped towards them, caused the villains to desist, and provide for their own safety. It was in vain to attempt pursuing them, as through the closeness of the wood they might elude our observation, I therefore hastened to the carriage where a young Lady sat, who had thrown herself upon the bosom of a man to all appearance dead or dying. When she raised her head, never shall I forget the moment that decided my future destiny, and ruined my peace for ever! When she turned her eyes upon me, Heavens! what were my sensations! until that luckless hour a stranger to the captivating charms of beauty, a blaze of charms dressed in the fascination of tears and sorrow, and which conveyed a thousand tender ideas to a susceptible heart: She held out one of her lovely hands, 'Save him, O, save my father!' she cried in a voice of softest melody, 'or pierce my bosom also!'—O, the remembrance of that moment of delight, pregnant with years of ceaseless misery! O, beautiful, false, enchanting, destructive charmer! Woman, vile abandoned woman! but I will be calm, am I not revenged? Yes, and that exquisite satisfaction shall attend me to my grave!
Let me proceed: Under a delirium of sudden rapture I exerted myself with uncommon alacrity, having prevailed on her to quit the chaise, I entered it, and found the Gentleman had received a wound in his breast, whether dangerous or not I could not know, I perceived he still lived, and having sent off a servant to procure the attendance of a surgeon, I entreated the Lady to go on to my Castle in the carriage, whilst my vassals formed a kind of litter, to carry the wounded man much easier than the motion of the wheels would admit of. She acquiesced in every request with the warmest expressions of gratitude for my attention to her parent; every tender look, every gentle word, twined itself about my heart, and confirmed me a wretch for ever!
"We arrived at my Castle, the surgeon soon made his appearance, and, after examining the wound, gave us hopes that it would not prove mortal. The Gentleman did not recover his senses until the pain, which the probing of the wound occasioned, roused him from the insensibility that had overpowered his faculties, and enabled him to discover his daughter kneeling at the side of the bed, and bathing his hand with her tears. My child! he exclaimed—Gracious Heaven, I thank thee, my child is safe!"—He was desired not to speak, and after some inarticulate blessings on his deliverer, weakness compelled him to give over the attempt.
The two servants that lay in the wood when I first discovered the carriage, we found to be entirely deprived of life, and the post-boy had fled thro' the trees: I knew not therefore the names or quality of my guests, but every thing in their appearance and manners seemed to denote that they were of no contemptible rank. During three days, I saw the young Lady only at the bed-side of her father; but in that time the subtle poison stole into my heart, and love, the most ardent and most impetuous, took possession of my whole soul, and engrossed every faculty of my mind. On the fourth day, the old Gentleman was declared to be out of danger, and allowed the privilege of speaking. He desired to see me; when I attended him his gratitude was boundless; he called me the preserver of his life, and the guardian-angel of his Eugenia.
He told me that he was a Nobleman of Suabia, his name Count Zimchaw. Having been on a visit to a relation at Munich, he was returning to Suabia through Mindelhiem, that he might call on another friend. Coming thro' the wood, which he took as the nearest route, he was attacked by four men. His servants, as well as himself, having fire arms, prepared to resist them; but his faithful attendants were shot dead, and the carriage surrounded. Finding then that resistance could have no avail, he was in the act of resigning his pistol, after having, in the beginning of the attack, discharged it without effect, when, as he reached his arm to deliver it, a cowardly assassin stabbed him in the breast, and he fell back senseless: The shrieks of his daughter on that event he supposed reached my ears, and providentially brought me to their assistance. This little account of himself was accompanied by the warmest sentiments of gratitude, in which the too lovely Eugenia joined.
He recovered fast, and had more than once mentioned his desire of renewing his journey, from an apprehension of intruding upon me: But far gone in a fatal passion that was to mark my future days with sorrow, I earnestly besought him to remain some time with me, and endeavoured, by every act of attention and complaisance, to gain the esteem of the father, and the heart of his daughter. My sentiments could not long be unnoticed by either. The Count viewed me with kindness and complacency; but Eugenia grew more reserved, and though always grateful and polite, there was a respectful coldness in her manners, repulsive to the warmth with which I always involuntarily addressed her.
Unaccustomed to meet with any opposition to my will, I was not prepared to expect a denial to my wishes, when I should think it a proper time to disclose them, and being one day alone with the Count, I seized a favourable opportunity, and without reserve opened my heart to him, solicited the hand of his daughter, and made the most liberal offers my circumstances would admit of.—The Count's character was propitious to my views; he was naturally proud and avaricious, the want of a male heir had disappointed the first passion, and increased the second. A nephew was to enjoy his estates by the marriage settlements after his death, and what he could save from his income was all he could dispose of in favour of his daughter. He had been desirous of uniting her with his nephew, but that Gentleman travelling into England, had there married a young Lady of rank and fortune, an account of which had reached Count Zimchaw a very few weeks previous to my meeting with them in the wood. Disappointed in his wishes, he felt a good deal of anxiety for the settlement of his child; when therefore I declared my love, and made my proposals, he could not disguise his satisfaction:—"To bestow my daughter on the preserver of my life and her honour (cried he) is the highest gratification I could picture to myself, and confers on me additional obligations. Yes, my dear Baron, Eugenia is your's, I pledge you my word, and answer for my child, that she will with joy ratify the gift I make you of her hand, and reward our deliverer from death and dishonour."
"Mistaken man! he knew not the heart of his degenerate daughter. Transported with the prospect of my expected happiness, yet wounded by the recollection of her coldness, I entreated the Count to be my friend, and speak his approbation of my wishes, before I ventured to disclose them to her."
"We will lose no time," answered he, "and it is sufficient for me to declare my pleasure, and for her to obey. After we retire from dinner, your desires shall be confirmed." I left him under perturbations difficult to describe; joy, hope and fear, assailed me at once. I had no doubt of her compliance with the commands of her father, but I feared her heart would have no share in her obedience."
"After dinner we retired to the saloon, my mind was so extremely agitated, that my emotions attracted the observation of Eugenia, nor did the uncommon spirits of the Count pass unnoticed: She viewed us alternately with a mixture of concern, and curiosity depicted in her countenance, which I well understood, and when we entered the saloon, as I led her to a seat, I felt her hand tremble in mine. The Count scarcely permitted us to be seated, and the servant to shut the door, before rising briskly, and taking his daughter's hand, "My dear Eugenia, (said he, abruptly) our worthy friend and preserver Baron S———**, has done us the honour to solicit an alliance with us; yes, my child, he offers his hand to your acceptance. I have with joy accorded to his wishes, and here, my Lord, I ratify the gift," putting her hand into mine, as I bowed profoundly before her. She started up, trembled, and strove to disengage her hand as I pressed it to my lips: "My Father! my Lord!" cried she, extremely agitated, "spare me, O, spare me, I cannot, indeed I cannot!"———
"Cannot what?" exclaimed the Count, with a wrathful countenance: "Dare you resist my will? Can you refuse the hand of your benefactor, the hand that saved your father's life? Ungrateful girl! cold and insensible to the honour you ought to receive with transports! Teach your tongue a different language, learn to be grateful, and obey my commands." He had scarcely pronounced those last words, when she fell lifeless before us.
The Count was excessively enraged: I was wounded to my very soul, yet called for that assistance he would have denied to her. She was carried to her apartment. "Pardon a foolish wayward girl (said he;) perhaps the idea of marrying out of her own country has occasioned this apparent reluctance; a foolish local prejudice has got hold of her, which argument and reason will subdue. Be not disconcerted, my dear Baron (added he, embracing me) I swear to you that Eugenia shall be your wife." He left me at those words, and I remained overwhelmed with a thousand turbulent passions, disappointed love, wounded pride, jealousy and despair, by turns agitated me almost to madness. Her coldness, her repugnance, augmented my love and inflamed my pride; passion and resentment were raised to their utmost pitch; I accused her of ingratitude and insensibility, and in the workings of my rage, swore she should be mine, whatever might be the consequences!
"I walked into the gardens to calm, if possible, the agitations of my spirits, but after strolling about two hours returned as restless as before. I met a servant, who said the Lady Eugenia wished to see me in her apartment. I flew thither with indescribable emotions. She was sitting on a sofa, looking pale as death, but more beautiful, more interesting than ever. Trembling I advanced, and would have flung myself at her feet.—"Hold, my Lord (said she, in a faint but serious voice) this humiliation neither becomes you nor me; have the goodness to be seated, and hear me with compassion, and without displeasure." I took my seat. "My Lord (continued she, in a firmer voice) think me not ungrateful, or insensible to your merits, or my great obligations to your generosity and humanity; I feel, I acknowledge all: You have claims I never can reward, and to give you my hand, circumstanced as I am, would be a base return for favours so unbounded.—My Lord, I have no heart to give! that has long been in the possession of another; my father knows it well, but as his consent could not be obtained to an union he thought unworthy of his approbation, I have sworn never to marry without it—I never will; but neither can I, will I, ever give my hand to another; deign then, my Lord, to withdraw your generous intentions in my favour, save me from the displeasure of my father, and let me be still further indebted to your nobleness of mind; the favour I solicit is no common one; but you have a soul superior to self-consideration, and on that I rest my confidence."
She might have proceeded for some time without interruption from me, so astonished and mortified did I feel at her address; but when she had ceased speaking, I endeavoured to recover my spirits, and told her, 'that had there remained a possibility of her being united to the object of her attachment, I would have imposed silence upon my wishes for ever; but as it was evident such a connexion never could take place, as I flattered myself that my tenderness, and earnest endeavours to gain her heart, and promote her happiness, would in time have the desired effect; she must forgive me if I could not comply with her request, or forego a blessing her father had so kindly promised me."
"Blessing!" cried she, indignantly; "can you call a reluctant hand, a heart devoted to another, and a lifeless form that will shrink with horror from an union imposed upon her by a stern parent, who to an unjust prejudice would sacrifice his daughter; can you call such a sacrifice a blessing? See, see me at your feet (added she, endeavouring to prostrate herself, which I prevented:) I beseech, I implore you, not to persist in your addresses; respect your own happiness, if you cannot feel for mine, misery must follow a compulsion so repugnant to my soul."
At this moment her father entered the room: She threw herself at his feet in an agony, "Father, my dear father! by that tender name I conjure you to hear me! To your commands I have given up the dearest wishes of my heart; I have sworn never to marry the Count without your approbation; do not compel me to be miserable with another; never, never can I love the Baron as a husband: I esteem, I honour him as your preserver; I would lay down my life to rove my gratitude, but I have no heart to give."
The Count sternly bid her rise. "I have heard you with patience (said he) and now do you hear me; and not only hear but obey me. You have dared to single out my greatest enemy as the object of your love, and even yet avow your affection for him to my face: I ought not therefore to be surprised that this Nobleman, who has preserved my life and your honour, should be the object of your aversion! Your conduct sufficiently explains itself, and I know how to set a just value on your love and duty so much boasted of: Now I put it to the proof; this instant I command you to give your hand to the Baron, or my everlasting curses shall follow you to the grave!"
She started up, in a kind of wild horror: "Hold! O hold! behold your devoted daughter, though distraction and death must be the consequence, take, take my hand, you may bestow, I can never give it!" He snatched her offered hand, and put in into mine; "receive her, my Lord, as a pledge of gratitude from a father, who dares to boast the gift is worthy of your love; duty and obedience will make her all you can wish for. And you, Eugenia, remember what you owe for me, and for yourself, happiness is in your own power." She answered not a word, her tears had ceased to flow, I lifted her hand to my lips, she withdrew it not, but appeared senseless and inanimate, looked alternately at her father and myself, a wildness in her aspect, that seemed unconscious of the objects before her. I tried to recover her from this torpid state by the tenderest expressions: She heard me unmoved, and the Count having called her attendant, advised me to withdraw; I did so, and left them together."
end of the first volume