CHAPTER XX.
"And mighty souls with gen'rous pity melt." Gay.
Notwithstanding the generosity of their natures, the deep regret and manly avowal of Sir Henry Hodson, accompanied with the restitution of their property;—notwithstanding also the distressing circumstances, so analogous to their own, that had led to the robbery;—the De Brookes might still have coincided in some measure with the sentiment which had elicited from the offender so full, impartial, and elaborate a sentence of self-condemnation. But there was one feature in the mingled portraiture of vice and virtue now lying before him that, relieved and heightened by a contrast of incidents which his own fortunes presented, had the effect of magnifying the merits and of diminishing the demerits of the case to the mind of De Brooke, in a degree favourable to the Baronet far beyond the most romantic of his hopes; and, indeed, if truth alone were to decide, far beyond what the Christian duty of forgiveness would either exact or justify.
In estimating the strength and devotedness of fraternal affection there exhibited, the mind of De Brooke naturally recurred to the similitude of relation and situation, unaccompanied with the corresponding affections, that existed between Mrs. Arden and himself. On the one hand, he beheld an instance of brotherly love and tenderness increasing from youth to maturity, and strengthening amidst the trials of adversity; on the other, he saw the picture reversed. There he contemplated a heinous offence, atoned for in some manner by unparalleled affection; here, the absence of actual evil, supplied by no positive demonstration of good. Cheerfully, for the sake of a sister and her sick husband, the true brother had suffered imprisonment; while, "sick and in prison", he had long languished, and yet might have lain, ere—sister but in name—his father's daughter had once deigned to visit him. How differently would he have acted if, under similar circumstances, their situation had been reversed! He blushed not to think that his own conduct in such a case would of the two rather have resembled that of the Baronet to his sister, than of Mrs. Arden to himself. If there was much to condemn in the practice, there was also much to admire in the motive. If severe justice forbade him to excuse, or wholly to exculpate, humanity and congenial affection prompted De Brooke to pardon an act of erring virtue.
In fact so little had the Baronet to dread his resentment, that it may be questioned whether his appearance in person would at that moment have been disagreeable to the injured but magnanimous De Brooke. If his judgment in this case was erroneous, be it remembered it was his own; nor let the narrator be accountable for an excess of lenity and good nature peculiarly characteristic of the man.
"I hardly know" exclaimed he, "whether I should most admire or censure the character of the Baronet, as displayed throughout the whole of this astonishing business. To his sister what a depth of devoted affection! To his friend, in the first instance, what apparent ingratitude and villany! Even if he had not so frankly confessed and redressed all, I could hardly find it in my heart to condemn him. What is your opinion, Angelina?"
"Really, I don't know; I am almost afraid to trust my judgment in so nice a case. I had not deemed it possible I could ever look upon an act of that nature in any other light than that of an inexcusable violation of Divine and human laws. But,"—
"But," interrupted De Brooke, "necessity, you know, my dear, acknowledges none; and the circumstances under which he acted, the feelings he habitually cherished, were paramount, and the first and great commandment of life, to love, would in such a case have extinguished even the first dictate of nature, to live."
"That may be", replied she; "in his individual case, I am inclined with all my heart to hope and believe; but I fear, lest in avoiding the fault of an uncharitable judgment, we incur a danger of an opposite kind."
"How or what danger can there be in an excess of charity? Often have I heard your reverend and truly venerable father maintain, that the whole of Religion was comprehended in that one word. And I have read also in his favourite book, the Bible,—to which he always referred in questions of this nature,—that 'Love is the fulfilling of the law.'"
"And well I remember", she replied, "how affectionately my dear father used to dwell upon those words; the sentence was indeed familiar to his lips, but not more so than the sentiment was manifested in his life. He felt, he thought, he feared, he practised it."
"True", responded De Brooke, "benevolence with him was beneficence; and indeed I also perceive, that without good practical effects, goodwill is nothing better than an empty name. But what is your opinion of the Baronet?"
"That he is very much to be pitied."
"Pitied!" retorted he; "commiseration for his case, and what more, admired I suppose? This I might have expected of womankind in general, and of you, my love, in particular. But I asked not your statement as a woman, but your sentence as a judge."
"I fear you will make but indifferent lawyers of our sex. Shall I answer then as my father's representative, according to what I remember of his pious precepts as a Christian moralist?"
"Do so, and be my Aspasia or Hypatia."
"Let me rather represent Aspasia; you, Theron."
"With all my heart! as a disciple, then, I beg to inquire why sentence of condemnation should be pronounced against Sir Henry Hodson, who, rather than witness the evil that was about to befall his nearest and dearest relative, compromised that which was dearer to him than life—his honour. Was not this Love?—and is not, 'Love the fulfilling of the law'? If not, what is Love, what is Law?"
"It appears to me that if we allowed ourselves to be governed by mere natural affections only, we should rise but very little in the scale of Christian perfection; for the love of our neighbour combines a very extensive sense, and is far from being confined to mere natural affection."
"But yet it is most certain," observed he, "that natural love is agreeable to our natural states in this world, and he who does not feel it must be regarded as a monster."
"That I willingly admit," replied she: "all that I wish to affirm is that those who have no other loves are defective. The merely natural man acknowledges no other, as witnessed in the case before us. But Christian minds, like that of my revered father, know how to keep all natural affections in subordination to higher ones, the love of the Lord and his kingdom, and all that is heavenly and eternal."
"Admirably reasoned, my dear, and therefore I will not put your defence of truth any longer to the test. To sum up your observations, they seem to amount to this, that natural love, when not grounded on a solid, that is a Scriptural base, is apt to degenerate into what may, in some degree, resemble animal instinct; and to prove your reasoning good, it is well known, I believe, that bad men, men of perverted principles, whose love of self is allowed unlimited sway, with proportionate strength love their own; the ties of kindred are carried, we have seen, in some instances, like the love of Sir Henry for his sister, to the utmost enthusiasm, and even to idolatry. Whereas better regulated minds, impressed with the Divine command, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,' in the indulgences of their more general and extended affections, regard mankind as one united family, or as brethren under one common Father. The former imperfect love is liable to fluctuate, to wither, possibly decay altogether, under time and circumstances; the latter, on the contrary, outlives such vicissitudes, and may therefore endure in time and in eternity. Is it not so, my dear? You smile assent, and 'smiles from reason flow.' Thus having fully entered into your pious and pure understanding of the subject, let us drop the argument, and leave Sir Henry with the hope, that by leisure and reflection he may cultivate nearer approaches to the Deity, and acquire strength to subdue his governing Inclinations, learn to be guided by Duty, and rise above yielding to a temporary good, how fair soever or seductive it may seem."
"In combating with, and conquering himself", added Mrs. De Brooke, "I rejoice to think he may yet become an ornament to human nature."
Dismissing from their thoughts the painful recollections with which the subject was inseparably connected, they turned to the brighter prospects Which the future presented. The letter of the Baronet had not only restored to De Brooke what he had been long deprived of, and thereby rendered his liberation certain; but had also communicated tidings with which the heartless lawyer had not thought proper to gratify him. He had attained to the distinguished rank of Major-General, to which a command in Ireland was attached. What had he more to desire, than to burst the ignoble fetters confining him to his prison-house, and fly to take possession of the new appointment awaiting him!
"Even nature pines by vilest chains oppress'd.
*********
But when their chains are cast aside,
See the glad scene unfolding wide."
To pass over details unessential to the progress of the narrative, let us behold De Brooke and his wife quit for ever those sombre gates which scarcely a twelvemonth before had heavily closed against the former as their prisoner, and were now thrown open to restore him to liberty and life, home and happiness! But alas! how seldom is the sum of human joy complete! Even in bidding a final adieu to that dark dwelling, regret for that dear and mutual object, there for ever lost to their earthly regard, intruded: and even Robert dwelt upon their thoughts; how gladly would they have recalled that faithful domestic to have shared in their better fortune, as he had hitherto done in their adversity!—but no clue could they obtain by which to trace him.
Proceeding, however, on their way, they endeavoured to chase the mournful recollections of the past, to indulge in the brighter images which the present enabled them to contemplate, until they found themselves at the door of their new lodgings in Pall-mall, previously taken by Mrs. De Brooke for the space of a few weeks, in order to receive visits and transact business preparatory to leaving the kingdom.
The first consideration of moment to De Brooke was to give publicity to his marriage covenant, and particularly so by circulating amongst his family a copy of the certificate registered at the parsonage of Whitby, in the county of York, the only document necessary to hear legal testimony of his union.
His next care was to bring home his daughters, and to make Mrs. Herbert a handsome compensation for their charge. The kind-hearted widow had become much interested in the young ladies, but more particularly the younger, whose infantine graces and charming display of character had also strongly impressed her son; and though rejoicing in the ameliorated fortune of their father, she was tempted on her own account to lament a change involving, as a certain consequence, the recall of his daughters from under her roof. The young Edward Herbert was then about twelve years of age, and the disparity between him and his elder brother had occasioned his remaining constantly at home with his mother; thus, from having been almost her exclusive companion, she lived but in his presence, and loved him with a species of idolatry, so far unfortunate for the young Edward, as it induced a neglect of the means which might have afforded him a suitable education. The daughters of De Brooke, though by many years his juniors, he fondly regarded as playmates. Oriana, however, though chatty and vivacious, and possessing an intelligence beyond her years, was not so given to join in his mirthful sports as Rosilia. Upon her, therefore, he naturally lavished his tenderest caresses, made her a sharer in all his little joys and sorrows, and took delight in styling her his little wife. The parting scene was mutual embraces and tears on either side. The most fervent protestations and vows fell from the lips of the youthful Herbert never to forget his beloved Rosilia.
"Remember," said he, dissolved in boyish tenderness, "when I am older, and a man, remember what I have often told you,—I will go to the Indies, where my brother is, and make my fortune,—I shall return and give it all to you,—I will bring you everything I can obtain the most precious and beautiful. I will give something to Oriana, because she is your sister, and I like her; but it is you whom I love the most; you are not so spirited, so full of humour as she, but you are the handsomer, the gentler, and the more tender."
Such was the impassioned parting speech of the infatuated boy, who, the remainder of that sorrowful day, which robbed him of his lovely playmate, sat silent at the corner of his mother's hearth; nought could call forth the wonted smile of peace or pleasure; the time hung heavy; he yawned at every interval; and by his own request, left the room at an early hour to bury his discontent in slumbers, interrupted by dreams of his Rosilia.
On seeing the improvement that had taken place in the appearance of his daughters, it was natural that to the sensitive souls of the De Brookes should recur, with grateful feelings, the thought of Philimore and his amiable wife, whose conduct, as regarded themselves, had formed an agreeable relief to that of Mr. and Mrs. Arden, though, from the absence of the same analogy in the circumstances and relation, not so striking and bold a contrast as was exhibited in the affairs of the Baronet and his sister. No sooner were the most urgent of his duties over, than, attended by his family, De Brooke hastened to discharge this debt of, gratitude and friendship for the only instance, amongst his former fashionable acquaintance, of disinterested regard and actual kindness during his reverse of fortune. To the great disappointment, however, of the whole party, Mr. and Mrs. Philimore were absent from town.
Having availed herself of the opportunity allowed her, Mrs. De Brooke provided an instructress for her daughters, one who might aid her in bestowing upon them those accomplishments of mind best adapted to heighten and embellish their personal charms. She had also redeemed the jewels and miniatures which she had found herself, when reduced to extremity, under the painful necessity of disposing of for a time.—In the joy and prosperity then attending them, the grave of their son was not forgotten.
Often had Mrs. De Brooke bent her footsteps to hover over that spot, pointed out to her by Robert; and often, in poring over the inscription with moistened eyes and an aching heart, had she read the awful and impressive lesson of what we are, and of what we must become when the immortal spirit, no longer confined within its earthly tenement, expatiates free in the regions of incorruption. Flowers were again thrown over the grave by the mother and sisters. De Brooke mournfully lingered by the side of his wife, and took a last and tender farewell of the spot.
This affecting task over, he seized an interval for presenting himself at the Royal levee, in order to thank His Majesty for the favour conferred upon him; but here he was unaccompanied by Sir Aubrey, who, purposely to avoid a rencontre with his son, affected to be confined by indisposition; yet was not his reception the less gracious.
The ceremony being performed, Major-General De Brooke and his partner elegantly equipped themselves with the various articles of ornament and splendour, the most approved by taste and fashion, suitable to their exalted station; this necessary preparation occupied them two days, when, in a genteel and neat travelling carriage, they pursued the road leading to Holyhead, where after the space of some days they embarked for Ireland. The wind proving favourable, the following morning they anchored in the beautiful bay of Dublin.
After reposing a few days in the capital of the kingdom in which they were to dwell, they proceeded to their place of destination. The town of W presented an aspect the most picturesque, skirting the sea—rich, large, and populous. It was commanded by the Fort of D, where, with his family, the General went to take up his summer quarters; having previously passed a month at W, with the view more particularly to examine the country then devolving under his authority.
Elevated upon a lofty perpendicular rock stood the fort, in the interior of which was the edifice assigned the General, with other lesser ones, comprising a range of buildings in the form of barracks for the field officers and subalterns of the various detachments, artillery and line, under his command. These nearly lined the parade, with the exception of the northern and part of the western side, where were erected double tiers of ramparts, suspended over the wide and boundless track of ocean. The eye, in following the eastern direction, might trace rock rising upon rock, succeeding each other in nearly a vertical line, terminated by one, the most elevated and craggy, casting its huge broad surface into the bosom of the seas. Such was the bold and grand display presented from that romantic eminence.
The mansion of the General was spacious, and gave ample scope for the exercise of Mrs. De Brooke's judicious taste. The windows from the back commanded the striking scene we have described; those in front the parade, at whose furthest extremity the soldiers and recruits performed their military evolutions. Beyond them stood those massy ramparts, mounted with heavy cannon, which, when discharged, spread far and wide peals of rolling thunder, resounding through the coast, and reverberated amongst those stupendous rocks upon which the spray foamed with turbulent violence. All other objects might haply fleet away in the course of nature and events of things, and still the narrowest chink or smallest bay in the vicinity of D Fort, into which the poor fisherman was wont to drive his little bark, would continue visible to the gaze, indelible and unchanged by time or tide!
How little can the private individual, in his narrow walk through life, form to his fancy an idea of the entirely opposite course pursued by those under the immediate exercise of authority and power! Wishes anticipated; the acquiescence and obedience of every moment; the flattery of courtiers; the pomp of military discipline; parade of arms; sentinels at their post; the warlike sound of the drum in successive roll; the sounding instruments of a military band, ever within orders to pour the martial air; all doing honour to the General, who was attended as a prince. And so De Brooke moved, was courted, observed, and almost worshiped; add to all this, the private enjoyment of a handsome income, with everything state, equipage, and retinue could bestow.
Raised to a just sense of his own importance by the necessity of subordination in the different ranks beneath him, De Brooke, notwithstanding this pomp surrounding him, tempered his control by moderation and philanthropy; assuming nothing but what his high command rendered imperatively his duty to execute as due to his office, nor placing himself personally above the level of ordinary society.
Possessing the warm sympathies of humanity, often were the poor in his neighbourhood seen to follow him, invoking blessings upon his head: "Ah, there he goes; there goes the General, that even one poor like I can speak to!" When not engaged in the public functions of his station, the General, mindful that he had himself experienced adversity, received a pleasure in redressing the grievances of his low but not despised fellow-mortals, equally journeying with himself through a temporary scene to one that is eternal,—where haply the honest poor might reign above the proud and lordly rich.
Open to the boundless main, and, consequently, exposed to its rude tumults and vicissitudes as was the rock which they inhabited, yet an excursion of a few miles brought them into a lovely country, where verdure and cultivation displayed themselves. The laborious oxen were yoked to the ploughshare, and, generous as was the earth, plentiful harvests were the result. "A land flowing with milk and honey" well might be applied; no dearth existing; the boards of its hospitable natives ever crowded by the rich produce of their prolific soil.
A few estates, the property of some of the Irish nobility, though thinly scattered around the neighbourhood, and but rarely visited by their owners, afforded to the General and Mrs. De Brooke the delightful recreation of a rural drive; on which occasions the latter, having a spare seat in her carriage, was often accompanied by one of the officers' ladies, whom her own choice had selected as the most congenial to her. Sometimes the General, accompanied by his suite, was of the party; and sometimes, to give a greater diversity to these amusements, she engaged them in marine excursions. It was then, while sailing along the coast, and enjoying at the same time the charms of music, that the sublimest scenery expanded before the eye. Sometimes in these parties they took with them domestics, bearing refreshments, of which, unceremoniously arranged, either amidst the deep recesses of the rocks or on the soft green herbage, they participated with much more zest than if they had been seated at the most sumptuous boards. Scenes such as these afforded by contrast a pleasing relief from the monotony of military routine within the garrison.
To this agreeable summer winter succeeded, when the General exchanged his head-quarters at the Fort for the town of W, equally under his command as the former; where, by the order of Government, he had also a handsome abode appropriated to him. The most respectable and worthy inhabitants of the town afforded to Mrs. De Brooke a circle of select and well-chosen acquaintance, which, with the military of distinction who paid their respective devoirs and attention to the General, rendered his house a temple, where every elegance of rational society, taste, wit, and beauty resided.
Here it was that Mrs. De Brooke exhibited to the greatest advantage an innate affection—we may call it a talent—of pleasing, that showed itself in the uncommon versatility of manners and temper with which she accommodated herself to the humour and character of her guests. With the grave and sententious she could be serious and sentimental; with the gay she was animated and cheerful; yet, with all her powers of accommodation,—which is perhaps the true secret of pleasing,—nothing was more foreign to her manners than an affectation of conforming ostentatiously to the temper of others, or indeed any affectation whatever. From the evenness and uniformity of her spirits and disposition, it might be suspected that the change was in others unconsciously acceding to the attraction of her sphere. The appearance, however, was so far otherwise, that the proudest felt pleased when constrained by the sunshine of her presence and bewitching address to throw aside the mantle of reserve, and thus to step as it were out of themselves.
From the humble sphere to which by her birth she had seemed destined, and the softer feelings which alone she had hitherto displayed, it could hardly have been conceived to what extent she possessed those more brilliant qualities which the present scene called forth, and how well nature had fitted her to adorn the highest walks of life; nor was it possible that they who had experienced only the magic influence of her graceful and winning conversation, and felt the attraction of which she was the centre in the high circle where she now moved, could ever have imagined her to have been the daughter of a country curate!
Thus thought De Brooke. And there were moments when he could reflect on those days as some of his happiest that had been spent with his wife in the parsonage of her father, the venerable Basil.
Mrs. De Brooke held nights for a more general reception of company than those dedicated to the friendly intercourse of a few: upon these occasions her apartments were crowded by more promiscuous guests than were suited to her taste; nevertheless the public situation of her husband demanded of her this sacrifice. Dancing and music vied with each other, creating mirth and enjoyment to the young; while cards or conversation afforded entertainment to the more mature.
Little dreaming of the revelry filling that saloon of state, Oriana and Rosilia, two unconscious buds of beauty, lay innocently reclining on their soft pillows. Short as might be the period of their childhood, yet fate had so ordained it, that however formed to shine and eclipse, the seasons advancing in their successive changes were to contribute only to deepen the mists encompassing their future destiny.
Unable to fathom the hidden ways of Providence, building upon a continuation of prosperity, how pleased, how elated, the parents' eyes contemplated the expanded graces and accomplishments of their daughters! It ever gave a delight unbounded to Mrs. De Brooke to steal from the busy scenes of the world, which then so much engaged her, to visit the young plants of her culture, and inspect the progress of their education. Competent as was their governess to instil into the minds of her pupils moral, scientific, and rational knowledge, yet Mrs. De Brooke, when occasion offered, lost not the means of perfecting them also in the more elegant branches of female acquirements.
Thus it might be said that, though so young, they were as 'polished corners,' and thus diffused joy through the breast, conjuring visions of happiness before the mental eyes of their fond parents.