Alexina had learned to converse in French in travelling through that country, not indeed with the correctness of a native, but so as to be extremely well understood, and with an accent which, though peculiar, D’Alonville thought the most agreeable he had ever heard from a foreigner. This acquisition accelerated extremely the release of her father, as by this means D’Alonville learned many circumstances of which he must otherwise have remained ignorant, or have learned through a medium which might have misrepresented them. He availed himself with so much zeal and expedition of every advantage this, and his having command of present money afforded him, for he had obtained from England a sufficient credit for all his present purposes), that at the expiration of the fourth day from his fortunate discovery of Carlowitz, he had the infinite satisfaction of seeing him at liberty. Nothing then remained but to wait another day at Bruges, to procure more decent apparel for both father and daughter. The latter indeed had for some time adopted the long gown of coarse grey cloth, worn by the “Sisters of Mercy,” in which she appeared with more true dignity than an infinite number of those insipid moppets of fortune, who exhaust their tradesmens’ imagination and patience in devising new ornaments, to give, for one day, to their mean and insignificant figures that consequence which nature has denied. — But as this was not a dress in which Alexina could appear at Ostend, whither D’Alonville had prevailed on her father to accompany him, he contrived by sister Ernestina, the good Beguine, to prevail on her to accept the means of procuring other apparel, for she had parted with all her own for her father’s support. Many, many months had passed since D’Alonville had found himself so happy as he was when he handed her into the boat that was to carry to Ostend her and her father, who followed her with eyes overflowing with tears, that all his misfortunes and never called forth.
CHAPTER XIV.
To thee the day-spring and the blaze of noon
The purple evening, the resplendent moon,
The stars, that sprinkled o’er the vult of night
Seems drops descending in a shower of light,
Shine not: or un-desir’d and hated shine,
Seen thro’ the medium of a cloud like thine.
COWPER.
THE satisfaction Ellesmere expressed when D’Alonville related what had passed, could only be exceeded by that of which he was sensible when Carlowitz and Alexina visited him. The predilection he had been conscious of, the first hour he saw Alexina, soon became a violent passion, when he had a daily opportunity of conversing with her; and he no longer endeavoured to repress it. His situation was at this period so changed, that reason and prudence no longer opposed his inclinations; for he was now heir to a fortune, which, though not large for a man who was ambitious would be enough to make him happy with the woman he loved.
Sir Maynard, who, while his eldest son and grandson were living, had considered the dangers of that profession into which his second son had entered, as being matters of course to a younger brother; now expressed the most painful apprehensions for his safety, and since such fears had been entertained of his recovery, in consequence of his wounds, had shewn great anxiety to have him return to England the moment he could do so with safely, and to have him quit the army entirely. Notwithstanding this encrease of Sir Maynard’s paternal affection, Ellesmere knew him too well to imagine he would easily consent to his union with Alexina; and he loved and respected him too much, to think of marrying contrary to his wishes; but he flattered himself, that time, and the earnest desire Sir Maynard had to see successors to his family name, might at length obviate his objections, especially if he could become acquainted with the merit of Alexina, whom Ellesmere fondly believed must by all eyes be seen with as much admiration as by his. He now recovered very fast; Alexina, who could not be insensible of an attachment so generous and tender, became his nurse; while Carlowitz passed much of his time in reading to him; and expressed, by every means in his power, his gratitude to him and to D’Alonville.
On every subject Alexina heard Ellesmere with pleasure; but when he spoke to her of his love, she refused to listen, declaring to him, that fortune had put an insuperable bar between them, when it had reduced her to indigence; and that she was too proud to enter into a family, where she must expect to be considered as a foreign beggar. To this she adhered with a resolution that at length became alarming to Ellesmere, who fancied that some prepossession fatal to his happiness must be the occasion of her refusal, even to give him a promise of becoming his, if the acquiescence of Sir Maynard could be obtained. But Carlowitz, to whom he expressed these fears, assured him that Alexina had never been sensible of the least degree of partiality. “Believe me,” said he, “my daughter is of too reserved a disposition to think of any man, however great his merit, who should not first have shewn her marked preference; and how few are there, who, with honourable views, think of giving such preference to a young person situated as Alexina has long been! Her person, which happens to please you, has probably nothing striking to the common observer. — An hundred men would admire a fine complexion, with ordinary features, who would pass the peculiar character of Alexina’s countenance without notice: her figure, graceful as I allow it to be, has never had the aid of ornament to set it off; and how few are judges of simple grace! — As to her understandings, which has so many charms in your opinion, I am convinced there is nothing that is so repulsive to the generality of men, as the appearance of unusual strength of intellect in a women. — Men who have talents are afraid of finding a rival in a mistress: and weak men, conscious of their own inferiority, dread lest they should make themselves liable to be governed or despised. — Thus the advantages that Alexina has in your eyes are, I am persuaded, disadvantages in the eyes of others; and you may rely upon my assurances, that had my daughter’s heart been prepossessed in favour of another, she would herself have told you so.
These assurances on the part of Carlowitz satisfied Ellesmere, that it was not owing to the influence of a rival that Alexina answered him in a way which his fears construed into coldness; but in fact her resolution to refuse his hand cost her many tears when she was alone, though in his presence she appeared to have made this sacrifice to her pride, and her real attention to his welfare, with stoical tranquility.
Her father did not appear to see Ellesmere’s offers in the same light she did. — He had long accustomed his mind to dwell on the dignity of virtue, and on those axioms, which teach that worth alone is true nobility and true honour; and, conscious of the value of his daughter, he did not think that any man, whatever might be his rank or fortune, could do her honour by marrying her. — As to the mere goods of fortune, though he owned that the want of them subjected a man in the present state of society to many inconveniences; he held them to be advantages on which a wise man would never value himself, and for which an honest man should never sacrifice on principle of his integrity. — This language, which is so unusual among men of the world, (though it is sometimes the cant of the designing,) was the real sentiments of Carlowitz; who, amidst all the difficulties and distresses to which he had been exposed, suffered only for his daughter; and never on his own account repented the part he had taken. — Successless as it had hitherto been, his zeal in the cause of his country was still indefatigable, and he now proposed to try what could be done in London to interest the humanity and awaken the spirit of freedom in a nation celebrated for both; and should he be fortunate enough to receive any encouragement, he intended to return into Poland, and once more attempt to rouse the dormant or timid virtue of his country. D’Alonville and Carlowitz had on this subject ideas so different, that it was impossible to bring them to agree on any one point. — They argued, however, with the perfect good humour that arose from their esteem of each other as individuals, and Ellesmere was admirably fitted for an umpire in their friendly political disputes; for, while he adhered to that system of government as the best, under which his won country had become the cost flourishing in the world, he seldom thought the bold assertions of Carlowitz
were carried too far. These dialogues, which frequently happened amused the mind of Ellesmere during his tedious convalescence, while the softer, but not less sensible conversation of Alexina, soothed his heart, and made even hours of pain and languor, in so disagreeable a place as a sick room at Ostend, appear the most delicious he had ever passed.
To D’Alonville they were less delightful; for though Ellesmere had dictated two letters to Mrs. Denzil, which he had written, and to which he had added postscripts, soliciting permission to correspond with her himself, no answer had been received; and imagining every thing fatal to his love, that could possibly happen, his impatience to revisit England became almost insupportable, and could have been checked only by the gratitude he owed Ellesmere, and the sincere affection he had for him.
At length the surgeons, under whose care Ellesmere was, declared their opinion, so long anxiously solicited; they though he might go to England without danger of a relapse — if after he landed he avoided all fatigue, and moved by very short journies into Staffordshire, where he had by this time learned that Sir Maynard himself, in a very precarious state of heath, expected him with the greatest solicitude. — It was settled, then, between Ellesmere and Carlowitz, that they should not proceed together; for delightful as the company of Alexina was to him, Ellesmere would not expose her to the observations of other officers, who would, he knew, be travelling to England at the same time; nor would he risque any suspicions that might arise on the part of his own family. Carlowitz and Alexina therefore, accompanied by a German servant of Ellesmere’s whom he had hired on purpose, set out four days earlier than that he had fixed for his departure with D’Alonville; and being furnished with proper passports, arrived in London without any other adventure than that of being now and then abused for being natives of France; honest John, seldom making any distinction, and concluding that whoever is not an Englishman, a Scotchman, or an Irishman, must of course be a Frenchman.
October 1793, now drew towards its conclusion; and two days before that, on which Ellesmere and D’Alonville were to leave Ostend, intelligence was received there of the execution of the Queen of France — intelligence that gave to every heart the most poignant sensations of regret and indignation — concern for the long-sufferings of this unhappy woman, so lately the admiration of the world. — The desire of avenging a deed so infamous, and shame that it should have been perpetrated by Frenchmen, had together such an effect on D’Alonville, that it now became Ellesmere’s turn to console; and it was many hours before he could prevail on his friend to speak of it with composure, while he himself could not but acknowledge that such an act of injustice and cruelty was a national disgrace, which could for ever stigmatize the country where it had been committed.
The preparations for their journey, and the attention necessary to his friend, whole wounds made the slightest exertion painful and dangerous, served to give to the thoughts of D’Alonville, a seasonable relief. They embarked with every appearance of having a quick passage, but about half channel over the wind became contrary, and they were driven to the eastward of Dover; so that it was not till after being five and thirty hours at sea that they made good their landing; Ellesmere being so fatigued and harassed by so rough a voyage, that he found himself extremely ill on arriving at Dover, and was compelled to remain there two days. On the third he got as far as Canterbury, and on the fourth to Rochester.
At this place a servant of Sir Maynard’s had married, and was now settled in an inn, which, though not the most capital in the town, was of course frequented by the friends of his former master. — Ellesmere and D’Alonville arrived there about three o’clock; and as Henshaw, the host had been apprized of the arrival of a son of his old master, for whom he had also a great respect on his own account, every thing was prepared in the best manner for his reception.
Ellesmere however was so much indisposed, that he went almost immediately to bed; but at soon as he was a little refreshed by rest, he sent for his old acquaintance Henshaw, and with his usual good humour entered into conversation with him on his trade and his family; while Henshaw expressed in the usual terms of condolence, his concern for the death of his honour’s elder brother, “Squire Ellesmere, and lamented the great grief it must be to Sir Maynard and my good Lady.”
“I see, Sir,” said he, when these matters were discussed, “I see, your honour have brought the same French gentleman back, as went along with you to the army. Ah! well, he have had better luck than you have had, Sir — for he seems safe and sound — while it is a sad thing, to be sure, to see your honour so wounded and mangled as t’were, — but some folks know better than brave Englishmen, how to keep in a whole skin.”
“Hey day!” cried Ellesmere, “what is all this Richard? why, are you thus become an Antigallican, and exclaim against your good customers the French, who are, I have heard you say, your best customers in time of peace? besides, you should not find fault with my friend, for not having been wounded — all that, you know, is the mere chance of war, and by no means dependant on bravery; — I assure you, my friend was close by me when I received these wounds, and got a considerable injury himself in carrying me off the field.”
“Ah! well,” replied the landlord, “every ball, to be sure, has its billet, as I have heard say; but for my part, I think that the life of one Englishman, especially such a young gentleman as your honour, who now, as one may say, is the chiefest stay of such a great family, is worth all the Mounseers that ever drew breath — for, to tell you the truth, Sir, I don’t like ’em in no shape — not never did — we’ve got one of them here now, “we’ve got one on ’em here, that I don’t know what to make of; I have had a mind once or twice to go to the magistrates about ‘em, for my mind misgives me, that if he should turn out a Jackybin, I should get into trouble; — my wife she takes pity on un, and says she’s sure he’s only a little craz’d by his misfortunes, especially within these two or three days, since this last bad news from France, when, to be sure, he have seemed like one rift of his wits.”
“Poor man!” said Ellesmere, “he is probably some unhappy emigrant; I hope Henshaw, you have not treated him with unkindness — who can tell what grief he may be struggling against, in a strange country too, and perhaps without money?”
“I treated him with unkindness,” cried the man— “lord bless your honour! no, not upon no account — To be sure, after the elderly man had left him, I say to my wife, says I”— “What, he had a companion with him then?” enquired Ellesmere.
“Yes, Sir, a grave, elderly, mild spoken man, that I took to be one of the Romish clergymen, as we have seen so many of; he went off to London two days ago; and told me he was going about business for his friend, and should be back within a week, or there away; and though, to be sure, he paid when he went away, and left me cash enough to answer t’others expences till he comes back, I can’t say but what I should be glad to have my house clear on un; for somehow my mind misgives me, that this here man is either a mad man, or a spy for the Jackybins.” “In truth, they are characters not entirely inconsistent, Master Henshaw,” said Ellesmere, “but I do not apprehend your guest to be either. If you think this unfortunate foreigner will not be offended, I will send a message and request to speak to him; and I dare say I shall be able to relieve your fears of having harboured a mad Jacobin — if you desire the Chevalier D’Alonville, my friend, to come to me, I believe we shall soon clear up this matter.”
The host withdrew, with many acknowledgments to “his honour,” and on D’Alonville’s entering his room, related what Henshaw had been telling him; “I fear,” said he, “this is an emigrant who labours under some peculiar distress; do, my dear Chevalier, see him yourself; and enquire if we can be of any use to him.”
Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works Page 194
