THE
MONK
AND THE
VINE-DRESSER:
OR, THE
EMIGRANTS OF BELLESME.
A
MORAL TALE.
BY A LADY.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR
MANNERS & MILLER, A. CONSTABLE & CO.
AND BROWN & CROMBIE, EDINBURGH; AND
CONSTABLE, HUNTER, PARK & HUNTER,
1809.
ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC.
IT is with extreme
diffidence the Author of the following sheets submits them to the public eye.
They were written from a desire of inspiring a young friend, in whose education
the Writer was warmly interested, with a taste for simple composition. Whether
she has succeeded in producing a Tale of any interest, the Public, uninfluenced
by the partiality of private friendship, will decide. Nor does the Author fear,
that the latitude usually allowed to works of mere imagination will, in this
instance, be withheld. That it is completely a work of fiction, she
acknowledges, dates only being used to give an air of probability to the whole.
The scene was first laid in
October 1809.
THE
MONK
AND THE
VINE-DRESSER.
AT Bellesme, in the government of
Maine, within a few leagues of the city of Mortagne, resided Claude, the son of
Baptiste Boussette, an ancient Vine-dresser of that place, who had bred him to
the same occupation; and being almost too infirm to continue in so laborious an
employment, had resigned to his son its more active duties, whilst himself
officiated as occasional assistant to Pierre, the superintendant of the vintage
cultivated on the estate of Monsieur Richambeau, Lord of Bellesme. In the same
superiority, on the banks of the Huisne, and at a short distance from the
cottage of Baptiste, lived Perron Corbeau, the father of Jacqueline, who was
not only the best, but also the prettiest girl of the hamlet. From early
childhood she had been the favourite companion of Claude; had participated in
his juvenile recreations; and at the more advanced period of youth, at which both
were now arrived, derived benefit from the instruction bestowed on him by
Father Anslem, a venerable Religious of the neighbouring monastery of St.
Nicholas. In one of the charitable visits which the worthy Monk was in the
habit of paying to the poor of the villages around, he had met the youthful
peasant, and, prepossessed by his ingenuous manners, had enquired into the
ability of his father to afford an education suitable to the intellect his
countenance and language evinced. Baptiste was at that time unable to provide
for more than the passing wants of the day; and the good Monk, penetrated by
compassion, resolved to supply the office of preceptor himself. The docility
and amiable disposition of the pupil soon won on the susceptible heart of the
benevolent Teacher; and those hours he could spare from the duties of religion
and the avocations of charity, were devoted to the improvement of Claude. Even
Jacqueline, from being a frequent auditor during the hours of study, became a
scholar. She had imperceptibly imbibed a taste for
those studies for which Claude evinced so strong a predilection; nor did the
good Friar think the cultivation of female intellect a task beneath his care.
As he was far from wishing to
disqualify them for a useful sphere of life, he carefully endeavoured to
exclude those false refinements which engender discontent; consequently his
system of education was extremely simple. Jacqueline he instructed in writing,
arithmetic, history, and a thorough knowledge of her vernacular tongue. His
plan in respect to Claude was more extensive: To him he imparted a general
knowledge of the living languages, book-keeping, and, as his taste led him to
admire with enthusiasm the vegetable productions of Nature, to those studies
was superadded the science of botany; particularly the physical uses of plants,
in the knowledge of which the Friar was eminently skilled. As the portions of
time devoted to study were never allowed to interfere with those allotted to
labour, the parents of the youthful pair beheld with honest pride their
superiority to their companions, who, deficient in the ardour for improvement
which distinguished them, or too indolent for the necessary exertion, neglected
to avail themselves of the instruction which Father Anslem would have extended
to all who manifested a desire to benefit by it. This superiority, which,
accompanied by a supercilious temper, would have roused the spirit of envy and
dislike, was so softened by the amenity of Claude and the gentle graces of his
companion, that they were universally beloved and respected in the hamlet: and
it was at the door of Perron, their companions in labour met every evening, to
enjoy themselves after the fatigues of the day. Here also did the elder
peasants, seated on benches around, distribute prizes once a month to those
who, among the maidens, had produced the best-finished piece of lace; and among
the young men, to those who had succeeded best in the culture of their vines.
These prizes were either a small crucifix, an utensil of husbandry, or some
trifling article of domestic furniture; and the youth or maid who could display
different pledges of his or her industry, were entitled to a premium on the
festival of St. Denis, when Monsieur and Madame Richambeau gave a fete, and
examined into the merits of the young peasantry on their estate. It was from
their bounty that the monthly prizes were distributed, and they had found the
plan an excellent stimulus to industry. In the time of the former Lord of
Bellesme, who spent his income in the capital, where he constantly resided, his
poor dependents had languished from neglect; but no sooner had his nephew
succeeded to his possessions, and declared his intention of living among them,
than the spirit of exertion revived; and the benevolent plans of Monsieur were
so successfully followed up, that Bellesme soon obtained the distinguished
appellation of “The Village of Industry.”
The approach of the feast of St.
Denis made every heart beat high with expectation, as it was not only customary
to receive premiums on that day, but to betroth, and portion those who had been
betrothed the year before, a twelvemonth being allowed to elapse between that
ceremony and the marriage. Those who had been contracted for that time were put
in possession of a free cottage for three years, when it was expected they
would be enabled to save something for the expences attendant on a young
family. These savings were usually placed in the hands of Pierre, who was
directed to give the best interest; and when a sufficient sum was accumulated,
if the tenant chose, he was allowed to purchase, at an easy rate, the cottage
he had rented hitherto. In addition to this plan, their benevolent landlord had
instituted, from the wish of preserving a spirit of independence amongst them,
a fund to which each man contributed a small portion of his weekly gain, and by
this means secured a certainty of moderate support when age or infirmity should
incapacitate him for labour. To the young men who were not contracted, the
festival of St. Denis was also an interesting period. Those who, by application
or superior intelligence, had qualified themselves to be promoted in the
mercantile line, were recommended, and through the interest of Monsieur
obtained situations. Those who chose the service, received also from him
credentials of their good conduct. It was the part of Madame to advance the
views of the Maidens; and no sooner was an attachment formed between a young
couple, than it was communicated to her by the mother of the girl. If she
approved, which was generally the case, they were looked upon as contracted;
and it would have been thought the height of coquetry on one side, and moral
turpitude on the other, to wish to dissolve an engagement thus sanctioned.
French women are all lace-makers, and as Madame had greatly encouraged the
manufacture, and undertook to facilitate its sale, few of the young women were
tempted to remove from Bellesme, and not one who had by good conduct obtained
the approbation of its kind patroness.
The morning so ardently expected,
which was the seventh anniversary of the festival of St. Denis since the accession
of the present Lord of Bellesme, now arrived. It was delightfully serene, and
seemed to harmonize with the feelings of the elder peasantry, who assembled on
the green before the house of
Mute with astonishment, and almost
sinking with apprehension, the trembling Jacqueline could only, by a slight,
but respectful motion of her hand, testify her attention to the discourse of
the Marquis; when Claude advanced, and encircling her waist with his arm, in
this attitude, they awaited the farther discourse of the sentiments of
Monsieur.
“You are not to be informed,”
resumed he, “that the chief revenues of my late uncle
were derived from his colonial possessions: But you perhaps are ignorant, that
soon after his death, the spirit of insurrection had begun to be observable
amongst the negroes of his plantation. The event which caused
my accession, prevented, by involving me in business of various kinds, the
attention which ought to have been bestowed on this subject at the
commencement. But, from advices I have lately received, it appears to
me, that prompt measures for the restoration of order are absolutely necessary,
the negroes being almost in a state of open revolt, and only restrained from
violence by an opinion that has been disseminated, of my being an advocate for
those revolutionizing principles which are now become so general in this
nation. What my political creed may be, it is unnecessary to state here. In
common with every good man, I hail what appears to be the dawn of freedom to my
oppressed country. But the plans of the regicide, who would sacrifice a just
and amiable Sovereign to his own schemes of aggrandizement, and make my native,
my beloved France, a scene of anarchy and devastation, I abhor, and swear to
them an eternal hatred, and everlasting opposition. But while a threatening
cloud hangs over this kingdom, I will not leave it; yet, feeling a concern for
the state of my plantation, beyond the individual one arising from mere
possession, I have selected Claude as my representative to visit those
refractory men; not to bind more closely the badge of slavery; no; but to
present to them their native and unalienable right,─their
Freedom!”
Jacqueline raised the hand of Claude
to her lips; then modestly stepping forward, put it into that of the Marquis.
“Oh, hand so beloved,” said she, “so worthy the glorious task assigned! I
relinquish thee until it be performed; and during that period, mine shall be to
render myself worthy of thee, who are thus selected to be the bearer of good to
thy fellow-beings.” Claude cast a look of tender admiration on the amiable
Jacqueline: then taking her hand, knelt with her at the feet of the Marquis.
“Behold, my Lord,” he exclaimed, “the man who, eager to emulate the virtuous
enthusiasm of a young female, and penetrated with gratitude for the honour with
which you have distinguished him, is ready to obey your mandate. To your
paternal care, and the benevolence of Madame, I entrust my venerable parent and
my destined spouse.” At a look from Perron, Jacqueline arose, and was led by
him to Baptiste, to whom he presented her, saying, “Receive, my friend, the
spouse of your son! In his absence, we will have but one home. Sanctify with
your blessing the promise she now makes, of alleviating the pangs of
separation, of supplying to you the tender offices, the filial duty, of our
estimable Claude!” The old man blessed, and sobbed on the bosom of Jacqueline;
and, extending his hand to Perron, he exclaimed, “In our youth, my friend, we
were fellow-soldiers, and our old age will be mutually cheered by the duteous
affection of our virtuous children.”
The agitation of the interesting
group having in some measure subsided, the remainder of the usual business of
the day went on. After the appointments were made out, and the premiums
distributed, the elder peasants sat down to a rural entertainment at the table
of Monsieur, while Pierre and his wife presided at the one where the young
folks assembled. By command of the Marquis, all discourse, relative to the
intended departure of Claude, was postponed, lest it should throw a gloom over
the festivities of the day. The repast over, the Marquis taking the hand of the
oldest matron, and Madame that of the most venerable peasant, led off the
dance, in which they were followed by the remainder of the aged part of the
company; while the youths and maids formed into groups, and footed it away to
the sprightly notes of the violin and tabor; and Jacqueline, rallying her
spirits, with a generous effort to spare her lover the painful sight of
witnessing what she mentally suffered, with graceful agility, maintained her
wonted superiority in the dance. After it was over, and during the succeeding intervals,
she observed Claude in close conversation with the Marquis; but knowing, that
as soon as he could disengage himself she would be informed of the result, she
devoted herself to the office of soothing his father, who, far advanced in
life, and on the eve of a separation from a son so dear, felt with acuteness
the approach of the time which would witness his departure. When evening came
on, they were joined by Claude and Perron. “We have leave to retire, my
beloved,” said the former. “A short time only, my father, have I to devote to
love and duty. Let us not waste moments so precious.” The little party now
retired to the cottage of Perron, when Claude informed them, that, at his
request, and indeed from a conviction of its propriety, the Marquis had adopted
his opinion, that, in the management of affairs at Guadaloupe, the advice of Father
Anslem would be of essential service: And as the rules of his order admitted of
an occasional absence, the Marquis intended waiting on the good Friar on the
following morning, to request his aid, which he did not entertain a doubt of
obtaining. “Thus, my dear friends,” continued Claude, “we may expect the hour
of separation is approaching, as the good Father is quick in decision; and with
such an object in view, I am convinced no delay on his part will occur. Ah!
What do we not owe this venerable friend! But for him, my Jacqueline, and you,
my beloved parents, how dreary would be this absence! Far from you, as I soon
shall be, what could chear me in the path of duty, but lines traced by hands so
dear! Accustomed to be the repository of the chaste thoughts of my love, how
could I exist under a total privation of them, or how could I express to her my
gratitude and love! The Marquis will facilitate the tender interchange of letters;
and let no pacquet from him reach your lover, without a recital of your
sentiments and employments.” In discourses like this, and in arrangements for
the future, the little party had protracted the time of retiring far beyond
their usual hour; when Claude, observing the languid cheek of Jacqueline,
pressed her to his bosom; and kissing the hand of Perron, retired with Baptiste
to their home.
Renovated by a few hours slumber,
Claude, at an early hour, attended the Marquis to the monastery of St.
Nicholas. After the first salutations of the morning, Monsieur imparted to
Father Anslem his intended plan, and earnestly besought his acquiescence. At
the mention of Guadaloupe, a momentary convulsion appeared to agitate the
generally serene, though pensive features of the Monk. He pressed his hand to
his heart, as if to still some sudden pang. Then addressing the Marquis, he
gave his consent in these words: “With the outline of my unfortunate story,
you, my Lord, are well acquainted. The mention of Guadaloupe, that grave of my
happiness, awakens too forcibly those keen sensations which time and religion
ought to have subdued. Nevertheless, weak as I am, command me; and it will
indeed alleviate the pangs of remembered woe, if I can guard this beloved youth
from the dangers of inexperience, or in any way contribute to the completion of
a design so honourable to your feelings.” The consent of the Monk being thus
obtained, they proceeded to adjust the necessary preparations; and it was
fixed, that, in the course of eight days, they should proceed to Mans on the
Sarte, whence they could embark for the first port from whence, it was
probable, a vessel destined for Guadaloupe would sail; and by that time, the
Marquis engaged to have his written instructions in readiness.
It was now the painful office of
Claude to announce to his friends the time fixed for his departure. Jacqueline
strove to repress her grief, that she might not add to the affliction of her
lover, and aided his filial efforts to console his aged father, who, acutely as
he felt the approaching separation, still refused his consent to the offer
which Claude, on witnessing his distress, had made, of declining the honour the
Marquis had conferred on him. To all the arguments used by him in favour of this
succession from his first compliance, the old man constantly replied, “Shall
the timorous fears of a frail being, like me, preponderate against the benefit
of hundreds of his fellow-creatures? No, my son! Go thou, and perfect the plans
of your benevolent patron; and while I reflect that it is your glorious task to
alleviate the sufferings of others, I shall feel resigned to my own. Nature is
weak, my son; but the pangs of the father yield to the hopes of the man: And
whether I live to behold thee again or not, my last prayer and blessing shall
rest on the head of my duteous child.”
The hour at length arrived, and
Father Anslem received from the arms of Baptiste his beloved son, who eagerly
clasped the now subdued Jacqueline. No sound issued from her lips; but pale,
and almost fainting, she pressed to them, and to her heart, the hand of Claude:─then,
throwing herself on the bosom of his father, allowed her own, assisted by
Father Anslem, to lead from her the almost equally lifeless Claude. They found
the Marquis ready to accompany them, with Perron, to Mans. On their arrival at
that place, they bade farewell to the adventurers, who embarked in a small
vessel for Havre de Grace, the first port in Upper Normandy where they were
likely to find a vessel ready for their destined voyage, on which they were too
intent to delay making the necessary enquiries the moment of their arrival.
Fortunately they found one bound for Guadaloupe direct; and they, with
favourable winds, once more embarked. Claude could not be insensible to the
novel attractions of his situation, and drew, from the cultivated mind of the
good Friar, an exhaustless fund of information. That worthy ecclesiastic,
viewing him as a being whose mind he had formed, strove, by judicious
conversation, to withdraw his thoughts from dwelling too intently on the
friends he had for a while resigned: And as he allowed no object, however
minute, to pass, without drawing from it a source of mental improvement, and by
dwelling on the benefits to be expected from their mission, he partly
succeeded. Still a pensive languor pervaded those features, which, till lately,
expressed only the hilarity of youth and hope; and, as the sailors chaunted the
morning or evening hymn to the Virgin, an indiscribable melancholy stole over
his senses. He thought of his Jacqueline! Of the bower in which he used to
perform this service with her. In imagination, he beheld that interesting
countenance, and those soft eyes, in which devotion, pure as it was ardent, was
so beautifully expressed; and fancied he heard the last cadence as it trembled
on her lips. The venerable forms of Perron and Baptiste, alternately joining in
the notes, or gazing with parental delight on their beloved offspring,
completed the group, from the imaginary contemplation of which, the Monk, in
moments like these, never sought to withdraw his youthful charge. He knew that
the tender melancholy of well-organized minds, when dwelling on recollections
of departed happiness, so far from damping its energies, rather, by a momentary
relaxation, prepares it for future exertion.
We now return to the inhabitants of
Bellesme. Jacqueline, whose understanding was strong, as her heart was tender,
felt how sacred was the duty of consolation to which she had devoted herself,
and roused the energies of her character to perform the promised task. Father
Anslem, in his parting address, had cautioned her against yielding to sorrow
those moments, which provide, in active employment, its best remedy. “Pursue
your wonted industry, my daughter,” said the venerable Monk: “beyond the
temporary pang of separation, you have no cause to grieve. By your example, you
have enabled a worthy youth to sacrifice selfish gratification to the good of
his fellow-creatures. And you will continue to show your companions, how much
may be expected from a mind conscious of, and beneficially exerting its powers;
and fear not, dear and amiable child, but the blessing of
In pursuance of this advice,
Jacqueline returned with avidity to those employments which the events of the
last ten days had interrupted. Baptiste had taken up his abode with her father,
and after the first paroxism of grief for the departure of his son, had busily
employed himself in assisting Pierre. Perron also had resumed his usual
occupation, and after the labour of the day, the aged pair were equally cheered
by the tender assiduities of the amiable Jacqueline.
Weeks and months had now elapsed,
and they hoped soon to hear from their beloved Claude; but e’er the tidings
could reach Bellesme, the faithful peasantry had beheld, with mingled apprehension
and concern, the altered appearance of their Lord;─he was become
thoughtful and dejected;─he no longer took his evening ramble,
accompanied by Madame, thro’ the village, to heighten, by his smiles, their
happy relaxation from labour; but retiring even from her, seemed to brood over
some heavy calamity; and it was long e’er the solicitation of this beloved wife
could wrest from him the horrible apprehension he entertained of impending
danger; when one morning a pacquet was delivered to him before her, and his
exclamation of grief at opening it, precluded the possibility of further
concealment. “It is in vain, my beloved,” said he, “that I strive to shield
your bosom from the cares which have for some time distracted mine:
The Marquis, charmed with the ready
compliance of his excellent wife, tenderly embraced, and promised her his acquiescence to her request. He then went to make
the necessary arrangements for his journey,─he deputed Baptiste to act as
superintendant during the absence of Pierre; his other orders respecting his
estate, from his having always been a strict observer of method, were soon
given. And accompanied by Pierre, and his confidential valet, Jacques, at an
early hour in the afternoon, he bade adieu to his family and domain.
A few days after his departure,
letters arrived from Guadaloupe, which mentioned the safe arrival of Father
Anslem and his protegé, after a prosperous voyage. At the port, they were met
by the agent of the late Monsieur Richambeau, whom his successor had continued
in that office from ignorance of his real character. Fawning and plausible in
demeanour, this man had gained the confidence of his late employer, whose
extravagant expenditure called for large supplies, and whose heart never felt
for the sufferings by which they had been procured. A fitter agent for
oppression than M. St. Forlaix, could not be found; but as avarice still
defeats its own purpose, the plantation, although thrice the extent of any
other on the island, by no means made a return proportioned to its surface. The
slaves wrought beyond their powers, and drooping beneath the lash, lost hope,
and scarce a day passed without closing on the interment of one of those
unfortunate victims of oppression. At length the spirit of vengeance was
aroused; and although the power of St. Forlaix, combined with that of the other
planters, prevented an open rebellion, yet was the hour of revenge secretly
contemplated. The slaves of Monsieur Richambeau had among them a man of
uncommon intellect; he had been a chief in his own country, and treacherously
betrayed to slavery; but neither the humiliation nor labour attendant on that
condition had power to subdue the ardour of a mind whose native grandeur rose
superior to adversity. With the calm dignity which quietly submits to present
but unavoidable evil, he performed the task daily allotted him. With
indefatigable pains, he conquered the difficulties Nature herself seemed to
have opposed to his acquiring a distinct pronunciation of the French language,
which, being the one universally spoken in the island, he was anxious to
attain. Confined as were his opportunities, his acquisition of general
knowledge was such as to astonish the inhabitants of Guadaloupe. To this man,
on the death of Monsieur Richambeau, thinking it a favourable juncture, the
slaves had confided their plans, and entreated him to be their leader; but,
with the bravery of true courage, which detests a sanguinary, when a milder
plan may be efficient, he opposed their desire, and refused to be their leader,
unless they solemnly vowed to be guided by his counsel. Many of the slaves had
been converted to Christianity; but as the planters supposed it their interest
to keep them as ignorant as possible, no clear views of religion had been imparted.
It was sufficient for those inhuman wretches, if they could so far impress
them, as to work on their credulity. This Quako knew, and though his
comprehensive mind had penetrated the mist with which they sought to veil the
God of love and mercy, in this instance he thought it allowable to work on the
superstitious terrors of his companions, and bound them by an oath, which he
knew no torture would force them to violate, not to pursue their intentions
unsanctioned by his consent. He recalled to the memory of some of the older
slaves, the humanity with which the young heir of Richambeau had enforced some
regulations in their favour, when on the island some years previous to this
period. He represented, that in all probability he would himself visit the
possession, which was now become his own; or at least send another agent, on
being informed of the real character of St. Forlaix, a delineation of which he
proposed they should privately transmit to France, and wait until a reasonable
time allowed for the receipt of an answer should elapse. “We will wait this
time, my brethren,” said he; “and if disappointed, then shall the arm of
vengeance be bared! then shall the spirit of the oppressed burst its bands, and
the accursed forgers of our chains tremble!”
Years elapsed, and no diminution of
hardship and oppression accompanied them; when the slaves, scarcely to be kept
from violence even by their remembered oath, surrounded the house of St.
Forlaix. Again the powerful energy of Quako subdued the tumult. He made the
slaves retire to a small distance; then, baring his bosom, while his form
seemed to dilate to an almost gigantic height, he vowed to plunge in it the
dagger he held, and on which glimmered the last rays of the setting sun, if any
dared to touch the miscreant who stood trembling before him, and whom he forced
to acknowledge having intercepted and suppressed the letter of complaint
intended for the Marquis. “One trial more, my friends,” said he, “and if it
prove ineffectual, I loosen you from your oath, and swear to dedicate myself to
your revenge! There is, even in this accursed spot, one merciful man:─Let him be employed to state our
grievances;─through his hand let the account be transmitted:─And
then,─no more,─redress─or revenge shall be ours.”
Monsieur St Amand, the arbitrator
chosen by Quako, was a man of the first respectability in the island. His
slaves were treated with lenity, and he inspected, rewarded, and punished,
without delegating his authority to an unfeeling overseer; and of all the
slaves in the island, his alone remained unbiassed by the prospect of revenge on
the cruel task-masters.
This proposal of Quako meeting the
approbation of his companions, delicate as the interference was, Monsieur St
Amand found there was no other way of preventing the threatened insurrection.
He therefore complied with their request. Until an answer could arrive, St.
Forlaix was allowed to retain his situation; and mean and cringing in
degradation, as he had been cruel and insolent in authority, he showed, that,
although humanity could not influence him to mercy, fear could prompt the most
abject indulgence.
It was the advices received from
Monsieur St Amand that prompted the quick decision of the Marquis. The
threatened anarchy of France, which he for some time had dreaded, prevented his
sailing for Guadaloupe. But, endowed by nature with that intuitive knowledge,
which at once penetrates and appreciates character, he saw in the youthful
Claude a fit representative. He was aware of his ignorance of the world; but
his errand was one of mercy: and although danger and difficulty might impede
the execution of it, he knew, that, to boundless
benevolence of heart, he united that lofty decision of character adapted to
overcome both. And although uniting the wisdom and experience
of Father Anslem to those qualities which distinguished Claude, had not
occurred to him, no sooner was the plan suggested by that grateful youth, than
the Marquis immediately perceived the advantage to be expected from the
co-operation of so able an auxiliary. And, though well acquainted with
some particulars of the Friar’s life, the tragical causes of which originated
in Guadaloupe, he knew, however minds of strong sensibility may droop over the
scene of their early sorrows, such minds, and such alone, when great occasions
call forth the latent energies, possess the power of sacrificing private
feeling to public good. Therefore he ventured to make the request, to which the
worthy Monk so readily assented.
Our adventurers, on landing at
With collected dignity, Quako eyed
the band: then, with a sigh which seemed to shake his manly frame, folded his
mantle over his face, and silently awaited the expected tidings.
Claude opened the important pacquet;
and after reading the preamble, which constituted him the representative of his
Lord, proceeded to state, “That ignorant as he had been of the cruelty practised
in his name, all that remained for him was to make atonement. Therefore, to all
the slaves on his plantation he gave their freedom, and the means of returning
to their own country, if they chose to leave the island: to those who would
remain he offered wages suitable to the value of the produce, and yearly to be
regulated by that. Lastly, he desired that every slave should receive a portion
for the time he had been on the plantation. To Quako, whom he styled the Noble
African, he offered the situation of St. Forlaix, subject to no controul but
those regulations by which Claude was empowered to form the settlement on the
same plan which had given to Bellesme peace and prosperity. To him was also
confided the care of embarking and providing necessaries for such of the slaves
as chose to return to Africa, and Claude had brought with him funds to defray
the expences. St. Forlaix was desired to give his papers into the hands of
Claude, and to quit the island.”
No language could describe the
effect of the letter of Monsieur on the emancipated negroes. The cry of
FREEDOM! FREEDOM! resounded thro’ the plantation;
while tears, which not all the hardships of a seven years bondage could force,
now flowed from the burning eyes of Quako. He threw himself at the feet of
Claude, exclaiming, “Blessed messenger of a gift more valuable than life, it is
thus I thank thee. The hour is now arrived when, without degradation, Quako can
prostrate himself at the feet of a white man, and bid him dispose of him at his
pleasure.” Then rising, with dignity he addressed his companions. “Friends and
Brethren,” he exclaimed, “ye who, when despair prompted the purpose of
destruction, even then listened to the voice of Quako, as he promised to devote
himself to your redress, behold it is accomplished! Hear him now swear to
dedicate his life to the service of his deliverer. I will be the servant of this
Father of his people,─of Richambeau, for ever!”──“Rickboo
for ever! Fader Rickboo for ever! We him servant for ever!” exclaimed
the slaves. Then, at the desire of Quako, they retired to their cabins for the
night. St. Forlaix had been a mortified spectator of this scene; no one had
offered to molest him: and Quako, with a dignified contempt, viewed his
departure to his own house; while the slaves, watching the countenance of their
companion, seemed by it to form their determination, seemed by it to form their
determination, and look on their fallen oppressor as an object beneath
resentment.
Already had that powerful attraction which unites kindred minds, linked those of
Claude and the African Quako. Arm in arm they retired to the house of Monsieur
St Amand, where the evening was employed in adjusting those plans in which
their co-operation was so necessary; while the Friar, struck with the noble use
Quako had made of his influence, and contemplating with admiration the strength
of feeling and intellect he had displayed, determined to contribute to the
further perfection of the talents of this extraordinary man; and observing with
pleasure the impression Claude and he appeared to have made on each other,
prayed that the blessing of Heaven might cement a friendship thus auspiciously
begun.
The next day was devoted by them to
the formation of the intended plan; and a few more, with the assistance of the
amiable Monsieur St Amand, saw the arrangement completed. St. Forlaix had left
the island; but few of the slaves had accepted the proffered liberty of
departing. Claude and Father Anslem had taken possession of the house lately
occupied by St. Forlaix; but Quako refused to leave his cabin, until a hamlet,
erected on the plan of Bellesme, should be completed, when one a little
superior to the rest was to be prepared for him. Having thus succeeded in their
mission, Claude and the Friar were anxious to transmit, by a vessel then
loading for Havre, the welcome intelligence to Monsieur; and the pacquet, as
before stated, inclosing also letters for Jacqueline and Baptiste, arrived at
Bellesme a few days after the departure of the Marquis, and was by Madame
forwarded to Paris. The happy tidings it contained was a welcome and necessary
cordial to the spirits of the Marquis, who had found, on his arrival at the
capital, more than his worst forebodings realised. The Nobles, terrified by
impending danger, had forgotten what they owed themselves and their country,
and basely deserted their post. Even the Princes of the Blood lost the
remembrance, that, of all the sons of France, they were most peculiarly called
upon to shed the last drop of it in her bosom, in defence of their own and
their Sovereign’s right: and the only men who, by a vigorous co-operation, had
a chance of saving the devoted nation, overawed by a factious multitude, lost
the dignity of the patriot in the pusillanimity of fear, and, to preserve a
dishonoured existence, fled!─La Fayette was at this period the idol of
the people; but although a friend to republicanism, he perhaps had been led further
than he either foresaw or intended at the commencement of his career. More
sanguinary despots were undermining the regal
government; nor could his moderation keep in order the lawless multitude; who,
sanctioned by the National Assembly, committed those horrible excesses which at
that period disgraced the annals of
Shocked, but resolute to the line of
conduct he had imaged to himself, the Marquis began arranging his concerns with
his banker. But to his advice of leaving the kingdom he returned a decided
negative. “Never, while my King exists, will I abandon him,” said he. “I will
endeavour to remove my wife and son to a place of security, if, in the course
of events, such a step should be necessary: but for myself, while Louis, my
Sovereign, breathes the air of France, it also will I respire. While one
solitary chance of serving him or my unhappy country remains, neither shall be
deserted by me.”
Consistently with the loftiness of
character which distinguished the Marquis, some time after his arrival at the
capital, he demanded permission to see the King. The request was denied. Still,
as he was known to favour freedom, though his definition was widely opposite to
the Parisian acceptation of the word at that time, no personal danger was
supposed to threaten him for having made it. But about two months after, he was
cited before the National Assembly, and there questioned as to his motive for
having preferred the petition. To which he answered, that the affection and duty
due from the subject to the Sovereign, alone had prompted him. Upon this the
Orator of the people, with a wild declamation, which dazzled by its rapidity,
set forth the natural equality of man; the absurdity of that pernicious system
which empowered the single tyrant to subjugate those designed by reason and
nature his equals in the scale of being, and partakers alike of power and
possessions: he then represented the necessity of enforcing these sacred
rights; and continued a metaphysical rhapsody, until he had puzzled himself and
his auditors, when he sat down, amid the plaudits of the surrounding multitude.
The Marquis, struck with the
absurdity of the oration, arose, and with manly eloquence, detected and exposed
the flimsiness of the argument, and then recapitulated the blessings enjoyed by
a free people, under the limited government of a virtuous monarch; and after a
speech of two hours length, the irresistible pathos of which had awed even the
orator into silence, he concluded with a motion for the enlargement of the
King. Loud cries of derision and discontent now resounded through the hall; and
the exclamation of “he is a traitor, an aristocrate, an enemy to honest men and
to patriots,” was vociferated on every side. When in a high voice he resumed,
“I am an honest man and a patriot,” ─the rest of his speech was lost in
the confusion of tongues: but those words had served to divide opinion; and
during the bustle which ensued, the Marquis was almost forcibly withdrawn from
the hall of sitting, by his banker, Menou.
On their arrival at the house of the
latter, he strongly reprobated what he termed the imprudent application of the
Marquis, who, stung almost to frenzy by the reflection, that of all the
Frenchmen present at the meeting, he alone had ventured publicly to avow those
sentiments which so many affected to cherish privately, anathematised their
pusillanimity, and deprecating the swift approach of ruin to France, he
prepared for his return to Bellesme. Although differing in politics from his
banker Menou, he knew he might safely confide in his friendship: receiving,
therefore, his promise of regularly transmitting an account of every occurrence
in the capital, attended by Pierre and Jacques, he commenced his journey.
On arriving near the end of it, he
could not but observe changes most grating to his feelings. He had hoped, that
the distance of Bellesme from the capital would have preserved it from
innovation:─what then was his disappointment, on entering Mortagne, at
beholding the tri-coloured cockade displayed on every hat, and to hear the
sound of Vive la Nation resounding in every direction. He pursued his journey
slowly, riding by the side of the Huisne, on whose white foam the red beam of a
fine autumnal sun glistened. The last leaves of the vintage, scattered by the
chill gale of the evening, fluttered in his path-way, and heightened the
melancholy tone of his mind; and, buried in thought, he approached Bellesme. No
vestige of its former happy appearance remained. It was the hour of relaxation,
but no sound of the tabor announced his peasants were enjoying
it.─Excepting here and there, that a solitary, with folded arms, was
slowly pacing before the closed door of his cottage, no object was to be seen;
but on the Marquis calling loudly to one of them, the well known voice brought
the faithful peasantry to the feet of their Lord. The momentary joy, however,
which illumined each countenance on his appearance, could not disguise the
traces of anxiety which the events of a few months had implanted there. The
acclamations of the villagers had reached the castle; and as the Marquis
ascended the steps, the Marchioness and her lovely boy were in his arms. Madame
was much altered. Fearful of distressing her husband, in her letters she had
forborne dwelling, more than was absolutely necessary, on her apprehensions,
that the mania of equality was rapidly infecting the
On the morning the Marquis, with
grief and indignation, heard from Baptiste, that deputies, in other words,
spies, were scattered in every village around;─that the principles which
it was their errand to disseminate were gradually eradicating the feelings of
loyalty from every breast;─that Bellesme alone had withstood the
contagion of democracy, and consequently had become obnoxious to the prevailing
faction;─that the terror which had impressed itself on the minds of the
peasantry, had occasioned the appearance of solitude which had so much
astonished him the preceding night. The usual labour went on, but no sooner was
it over, than every man retired to his cottage, fearing, should they assemble
as formerly, some informer would mix with the group, and, misinterpreting their
conversation, report it accordingly.── “We must oppose prudence to
power, my good old friend,” said the Marquis to Baptiste. “Do you encourage the
peasantry to appear as unconcerned as possible, as you may be assured, should
any circumspection be observed in supposed compliance with my orders, the
consequence will be destruction to us all.”─They
then retired to the saloon, to read to Madame and Jacqueline the contents of a
pacquet just arrived from Guadaloupe.
These dispatches contained
intelligence the most pleasing. Already had the united efforts of Claude and
Quako, assisted by Monsieur St Amand and the Friar, reduced
to practice the plan of Monsieur. And the newly erected hamlet presented to
view, on a more extensive scale, the village of Bellesme; by which name Father
Anslem had consecrated it. Here, too, the spirit of religion, which actuated
every action of that virtuous man, induced him to propose building a chapel,
where the negroes might attend public worship. The design had been completed;
and the Monk, indefatigable in pious labour, had succeeded in enlightening the
understanding of his sable auditors in matters so essential to their eternal
welfare. Claude concluded his letter to the Marquis with mentioning, that
although affection for Jacqueline would never actuate him to a conduct contrary
to the duty he owed his patron; yet, as he thought he might now venture to
leave Guadaloupe for a time, he was impatient to claim his affianced bride; of
whose sentiments he was so well assured, that he was convinced, if such a plan
should appear necessary to Monsieur, she, with their parents, would willingly
return with him to the island. His letter to Jacqueline containing the same
detail of operation which filled that of the Marquis, we shall select only one
extract from it e’er we conclude the present dispatches from Guadaloupe.
“Having thus, my beloved, beheld order
springing from anarchy and the glance of affection beaming from those eyes,
which, on our arrival, loured defiance; I proceed to relate a trait of
character so congenial to the benevolence of your own, that it cannot fail
yielding your heart the pleasurable sensation which filled mine, on witnessing
its effect. I have stated to you, that rewards for labour had been instituted
in our New Bellesme, on the same principle which was found so beneficial in our
native hamlet; and here, the general knowledge of our beloved Father Anslem
was, as usual, applied to a generous purpose.
“Among the vegetable productions of
this Island, is the Corbary tree, whose gum, plentifully yielded, and of a
strong resinous quality, the negroes had been in the habit of rudely polishing,
and selling to the inhabitants of different islands, as ornaments for the neck,
&c. On analysing this gum, Father Anslem found, that, by a chemical
process, it would, when dissolved, incorporate with certain ingredients, which
gave it the colour and consistency of amber: and so complete is the deception,
that it is by analyzation alone it can be discovered. Here then was a field
opened for the sale of this simple manufacture at an advanced price; and those
necklaces, which lately adorned the
“To your grateful
CLAUDE.”
“I shall write to Guadaloupe immediately,” said the Marquis, after
reading the letters. “And I presume, amiable Jacqueline, you will not oppose
the return of your lover? Alas,” continued he, tenderly surveying the
Marchioness and her son, “Events are crowding so mournfully and rapidly on us,
that I fear, if my sad forebodings are realized, our deserving Claude will
indeed bear a larger company to our New Bellesme, than he has the most remote
idea of, or my worst apprehensions could foresee at the time of his departure.
Forbear, my love,” continued he, on observing the enquiring eye of Madame,
“forbear yet a while to question me. Fain, very fain, would I anticipate a
favourable issue to what now wears so threatening an aspect. Would our good
Friar were here, to aid me with his counsel: but I must yet request him to
remain at Guadaloupe during the absence of Claude. Alas! I fear also, that e’er
long, those sacred edifices, which, for ages, have been the sanctuary of men of
his holy function, will, in
The letters from
Baptiste and Jacqueline, which accompanied those of the Marquis, expressed
every sentiment of parental and affianced love. And Perron also, unknown to
every one but the Marquis, wrote a few lines to his adopted son. The fears of
this affectionate parent, aided by the conviction he felt, that his languishing
disorder would terminate in death, made him anxious to place his beloved child
in the care of a husband, e’er she should be bereaved of that of a father. To
Claude, therefore, he candidly avowed his apprehensions, and concluded his
simple and affectionate letter thus:
“Return then, dear and promised protector of my darling child;─to
you I can entrust a daughter so precious. Yet, in so doing, I shall prepare her
for a voyage to which I am incompetent:─Yet,
wherefore should I grieve at that? Soon will my hoary head rest in the bosom of
the land which gave me birth. Ought I not to rejoice, then, that on that of a
tender husband will my Jacqueline’s repose.”
Fully, in the Marquis’s letter to Claude, were those sentiments
disclosed, which, from a fear of prematurely terrifying the Marchioness, he so
carefully guarded from her. With the wisdom which, combining cause with effect,
deduces the future from the past, he augured ill from the succession of events,
and endeavoured to be prepared for the coming storm. Much of pain and
difficulty threatened to impede the completion of the plan he meditated; but
however pain or difficulty might retard his views, or wound his heart, the
Marquis was not the man to be overcome by either. Gentle as the serenity he
admired, in time of peace, his was the bland and conciliating character, formed
to be beloved. But his powers assuming a higher and more decided tone, seemed
to expand with the events which called them forth; and, amid the storms of
civil discord, one would, on surveying the conduct of a being thus endowed,
exclaim, “This man was born for times of difficulty.”
The winter now approached, and, for so mild a climate, exhibited an
appearance of severity. The inroads of faction penetrated even the remotest
part of the
It is here unnecessary to recapitulate events so well known as those
which agitated that unhappy country at this period. Menou, faithful to his
promise, transmitted to Monsieur the promised information respecting the
imprisoned Sovereign, and mentioned, that a trial was an event confidently
spoken of by the miscreants, whose influence was now equal to the completion of
any project, however diabolical. The solitary hope of being useful to the
unhappy Monarch, was almost extinct in the bosom of
Monsieur; yet he could not forbear making one trial more in his favour:
therefore, bidding a mournful adieu to his Lady, he once more set off for
While the Marquis was thus vainly endeavouring to serve his devoted
King, affairs wore an equally hopeless aspect at Bellesme. Parties of horsemen
were daily marauding, and often insolently demanding lodging for themselves and
stabling for their horses at the castle. Tranquillity was chased from the
village; and it seemed ordained, that the lamp of life, which feebly glimmered
in Perron, should expire in the midst of civil and elementary discord. Previous
to the departure of the Marquis, he had remarked the alteration in the
appearance of his faithful vassal. But soon after, the hectic flush yielded to
the pallid hue of approaching dissolution. He had not at any period been
confined to his bed; and the fallacious hope with which we catch at the most
remote or trifling alleviation in the illness of a beloved friend, had still
whispered to Jacqueline, that could her dear father but be removed from a scene
where his nerves were kept in constant irritation by terror, he might yet
recover.
Thus deceived, with what inconceivable distress did this affectionate daughter behold the ravage a single night had wrought in the appearance of the dying Perron! Shocked, almost to the annihilation of her faculties, she caught the hand of her parent, and bursting into a passion of tears, sunk at his feet. “O thou,” exclaimed the venerable man, “who hast been the dutiful solace of a life now drawing to a close, embitter not, beloved child, those moments which should be dedicated to GOD in lowly thanksgiving, that I am spared the pang of witnessing the dissolution of my country, or being driven to pass a remnant of existence far from it. One supplication I have to offer at the throne of mercy,─May He who is about to deprive thee of thy earthly, be to thee an heavenly parent. Weep not, my child, for my exchange is glory! Thou, Jacqueline, whose fortitude hath so often cheered the broken spirit of thy father, wilt surely support him now!─A few years, my child, and we shall be reunited: Think of this, my exemplary, my heart’s dear Jacqueline, and summon all thy magnanimity to sooth thy father’s passage to his grave.” Jacqueline arose, pressed to her lips the hands of her father, and, in faultering accents, promised even the mournful obedience his last request required.
Sad and slowly passed the day; when,
as evening approached, Perron expressed a wish to be laid on his bed, and that
a priest, whom he named, might be sent for to administer extreme unction. The
night was dark and tempestuous; but Baptiste knowing the zeal with which Perron
had always performed his religious duties, and fearing another messenger might
not succeed in bringing the priest he wished, insisted on going himself,
sending also a peasant to the castle to inform Madame of the alteration on
Perron, and requesting her to send the wife of Pierre to support Jacqueline in
her melancholy situation. Heavily passed the hours; and to the astonishment and
deep affliction of Jacqueline, Baptiste returned not, neither did any one
arrive from the castle. Two young companions alone were with Jacqueline,
watching the expiring breath of her father.
It was now midnight. The storm heightened;
and as, at the request of Perron, his daughter arose to open the casement for
air to his oppressed bosom, the lightning glanced across her cheek, whose ashy
paleness, contrasted with her dark hair agitated by the wind, presented an
appearance almost as spectral as the wasted form reclining on the bed at the
farther side of the apartment. Perron, refreshed for a moment by the admission
of air, requested to be raised on pillows. When this was effected, he for some
minutes contemplated, with an earnest eye, the clouded appearance of the
heavens; then tenderly pressing the hand of Jacqueline, thus addressed her:
“Grievous and opposing, as these conflicts in the elementary system, are the
fears in the bosom of the dying sinner: but different, far different, are the
consolations bestowed by the Almighty on the last hour of the righteous. To
thee, my child, whom I have endeavoured to impress with a deep sense of the
gratitude due from the created to the Creator, may this last lesson of thy
father be the seal of truth of the doctrine he hath inculcated; and may this tranquil
separation of a soul relying on the mercy of its GOD, prepare and strengthen
thee for the hour in which thine also will be summoned into the presence of thy
Redeemer and mine.”
The last lesson had indeed quivered
on the lip of Perron; the vital spark was now extinguished, and the lifeless
form of the virtuous parent rested on the bosom of his agonized daughter. At
this moment the Marchioness entered. She had been prevented from attending the
messenger of Baptiste by a party of soldiers, who, affecting to discredit the
absence of the Marquis, insisted on searching the castle, and under the
conflict of contending emotions, Madame was obliged to attend the insolent
intruders; and at the moment of their departure had hastened to the afflicted
Jacqueline. “My child, my beloved child,” said she, gently disengaging the
corpse of Perron from her arms, “come to the bosom of a mother; shed, freely
shed on it, tears due to thy departed parent; but yield, my Jacqueline, to thy
faithful companions, the last sad duties to be rendered these sacred remains,
and quit with me this melancholy scene.” For a few moments Jacqueline threw
herself on her knees by the bed of her deceased father; then rising, returned the
tender caresses of the Marchioness, exclaiming, “No, Madame! to
your every other request will the humble Jacqueline pay implicit obedience; but
here must the duty of the daughter supersede every other claim. Shall the
parent, who, from early infancy, hath supplied a father and a mother’s care to
his sorrowing Jacqueline; who never rose but to bless her, nor closed the day
without having done some act to call down the blessing of Heaven on her head:
shall his venerable remains receive the last sad offices from any hands but
those of his bereaved child? Ah, no, that must never be.” Madame could not
persist in opposing what her heart knew to be right: but determined not to
leave the orphan, she dispatched servants to the castle with the necessary
orders for the interment of Perron, which was to take place the next night but
one; which solemnity, supporting Jacqueline, she herself witnessed, and knelt
with that affectionate daughter on the grave which contained the mortal remains
of her now beatified parent.
Three more days had now elapsed, and
no Baptiste appeared; when the strong mind of Jacqueline, operated on as it had
been by grief and alarm, now yielded to disease. And so rapid was its progress, that in a few
hours from its commencement, the beautiful form, so lately blooming in health
and vigour, was now writhing under the most alarming delirium. To the
distempered imagination of the sufferer, the most horrible combination of
dreadful events seemed even then passing in review. She called on her dead father
to assist her in loosing the bands of Claude, who, she passionately averred,
was in the act of being murdered by the negroes.─She accused the
Marchioness with having secreted Baptiste, that he might not aid her in
succouring Claude: and in one of these paroxysms, had nearly overpowered her
attendants and thrown herself from the window, which, she insisted was the gate
of the plantation, where, even then, those horrible cruelties were exercising
on her lover. For several days this afflicting scene continued, and the spirit
of Madame was nearly broken, when the Marquis arrived, and with him Baptiste;
whom the former had relieved from a party of horsemen who had encountered him
on the night of Perron’s decease, when, it will be remembered, he went in
search of the priest, and had thereby aroused their suspicion. They accosted
him, and not believing his simple recital, insisted he had some treacherous
plan to disclose to that priest, who was known to be an enemy to the people,
and a great asserter of the rights of their enemy, Louis Capet. They therefore,
forced him to proceed with them to Mortagne, and prevented any information of
his detention from reaching his friends.
The Marquis had stopped a few
minutes in that city on his way to Bellesme, and hearing of the confinement of
Baptiste, had, by a liberal application of assignats, procured his enlargement.
The expressive countenance of
Monsieur declared how little of comfort he had to impart, and manifested his
grief for the death of Perron. “Good old man,” said he, “In thee have I lost a
faithful friend; yet should I not lament, but rather rejoice that thou hast
escaped the knowledge of a deed which would have torn thy loyal bosom with
shame and anguish. Yes, my Adonia, one son of France is spared the agony of
hearing her utter degradation in the meditated murder of the King, for such I
am assured will be the result of the present deliberation of the enemies of
their country. As for our sweet Jacqueline, I hope, a fate shining as her merit
yet awaits her. Claude must soon arrive, and then shall every thought of your
Antoine be submitted to your inspection; and the beloved of his heart prove how
capable she is of rising superior to a temporary, though painful privation,
when his honour or happiness is, by such conduct, to be advanced.”
It seemed as if the return of the
Marquis was to be the portent of convalescence to Jacqueline, whose disorder
from that day took a decidedly favourable turn. Her recollection was now
perfectly restored, and as she was earnest in her request of seeing Monsieur,
her wish was indulged, and the first tear she had shed since the death of her
father, now flowed on the bosom of him who promised to supply to her that
tender relation, as gently and kindly he soothed her filial sorrow. This
interview over, the recovery of Jacqueline was rapid, as had been the progress
of her fever; and in a few days she descended to the saloon, where shortly
after she was clasped to the bosom of Claude. Imagination may picture, but no
pen can describe a meeting thus rendered interesting by circumstances. But
Claude, as in memory he retraced every event, found his heart acknowledge, that
in all the pride of beauty, and happy under parental care, as he had left her, never,
till the moment he saw her pale, altered, and fatherless, did he know the
extent of his affection for the lovely Jacqueline.
The Marquis no longer with-held from
his Lady the plan it was now necessary to expedite. He was aware, that his
tenure of personal safety was most uncertain. He was assured, that the
sacrifice of the Monarch would be the prelude to that of his adherents. And
although, from its distance from the capital, no violence, save that of
insolent intrusion, had been exercised in his domain, he knew that, in the
present situation of affairs, to anticipate the worst was the wisest course.
The project he had so long
meditated, was to intrust Madame and Victoire to the care of Claude on his
return to Guadaloupe, and as many of the female villagers as were particularly
attached to, and wished to share their emigration; some of whom were already on
their way to the port from whence they were to embark. The marriage of Claude
and Jacqueline was immediately to be solemnized; and after the ceremony, they,
with Madame, Victoire, and Baptiste, were to follow thro’ different routes.
Baptiste, and the wife of
Having thus settled what appeared to
be the only way of saving his friends and family, the Marquis, in presence of
those most interested, disclosed the plan to Madame. With apparent approbation
she listened to the detail, until Monsieur arrived at that part of it which
mentioned her being, with Victoire, entrusted to the care of Claude, and thus
declaring a separation to be intended; when, with the wildest expression of
agony, she started from her seat, and would have caught the hand of her
husband. But he, conscious that this was the moment to decide the contest of
feeling, with an impassioned, but steady look, threw himself at her feet.
“Behold, Adonia,” said he, “the man who, when wooing thee in all the pride of
youth and beauty, even to obtain the hand which hath strewed his path with
blessings, would not have humbled himself thus; but who, to obtain a boon,
which alone can secure to him the beings on whom he dotes, would, were it
possible, a thousand times more lowlily prostrate himself. Adonia! beloved and exalted woman, for my sake, for the sake of my dependants,
whose very dependance calls for the sacrifice, bear this pain! Allow your
husband to be, what in happier days it was your generous boast to call him, the
father of his people! Ah, that day, so bright in prosperity, in which you
blessed me with your hand, was the happiest that could mark an æra in the fate
of man. Now also, beloved of my soul, even amidst storms and tempests, let the
present, gilded by a noble deed, be the proudest.”
The big drops stood on the manly
forehead of the Marquis; while Madame, her hands clasped, and her beautiful
eyes cast upward, with all the persuasion of supplication, seemed to plead for
a mitigation of the dreadful sentence of separation:─when
the Marquis, pressing Victoire to his bosom, and then putting him into the arms
of his mother, exclaimed, “Go, dearest boy! help your unhappy father to plead
to the heart of your adored mother:─Tell her, that on her fortitude
depends the preservation of the last relic of a Noble House:─Tell her, it
is the duty of him who gave thee being, to preserve to thee, if it be possible,
the birth-right descended from a line of ancestors, loyal as distinguished: And
lastly, dearest of pleaders, beg that thy father’s honour may be preserved
inviolate, that he may not be branded as a miscreant who forsook his King even
in his hour of sorrow! If that King find no succouring hand,─if the plan
of the regicide be accomplished,─then, Adonia,” again throwing himself at
her feet, “then I swear to abjure my country for ever:─Then will I resign
a name, which, as the gift of my Sovereign, while he has one, I will retain,
but which I may well forego when his nobler one shall be extinguished.”
Deep sighs now burst from the
tortured heart of the Marquis: and the little Victoire, with infantine
endearment, flew to the neck of his father, who once more assayed to decide the
conflict. “Behold,” said he, clasping and holding up the little hands of his
child, “behold the united supplication of the father and the son. Oh, dear, but
too tender, yield,─oh yield. Preserve, Adonia,
the life of my child.” The Marchioness gasped for breath;─then faintly
articulating, “You have conquered,” fell into the extended arms of her husband,
who, passionately pressing her cheek and forehead with his quivering lip,
resigned her to the care of Jacqueline, and rushed out of the apartment. Claude
would have followed; but on Monsieur waving his hand, as if to request being
left alone, he returned to assist Jacqueline in the restoration of Madame, the conflict
of whose feelings had brought on repeated faintings. And her unhappy Lord,
unable to retreat, or to witness her sufferings, wandered about the extensive
grounds of the Castle in a state bordering on distraction. When the Marchioness
recovered, feeling that her consent, if given at all, should be bestowed with
dignified resignation, she sent little Victoire, with Claude, to request the
presence of Monsieur. On his entering the room, she presented her hand, saying,
“Pardon, my Lord, the opposition which the fears of a wife have given to your
design. Proceed, without fear, to the full disclosure of your arrangements; and
if your Adonia is now called upon to give the first painful proof of her
obedience, it is indeed a sacrifice due to your unbounded love.”
“Best of women, and of wives,”
returned the Marquis, “in every thing my superior, you teach me my duty. I now
feel, that, endeavouring to be considerate, I have been cruel. In keeping from
you what I have long foreseen would be a necessary measure,
I have given you occasion to doubt my confidence in your fortitude. Yet, until
my last journey to
On the following day the marriage of
Claude and Jacqueline was solemnized; and immediately after, accompanied by
Madame and the Marquis, they proceeded to a village near Mans. Baptiste and
Victoire were already embarked, and with a view of following them unobserved,
they had determined, that the separation between the afflicted Marquis and his
Lady should take place here. It was agonizing,─and with difficulty Monsieur
was equal to the task of resigning her to the protection of Claude, who at
length accomplished their safe embarkation. The unhappy mother, on ascending
the deck, received into her arms the blooming Victoire, and passionately
calling him her “fatherless boy,” she kept him constantly with them. No
persuasion could induce her to descend to the cabin, while the least vestige of
the land which contained her Lord was to be seen; but when far from it,
yielding at length to fatigue and indisposition, she was conveyed to bed, where
she continued till within a day’s sail of Guadaloupe. The weather had been
favourable, and the passage unusually quick: the sea-air had invigorated her
nerves, and her mind consequently in some measure recovered its tone. At length
she yielded to the solicitation of Claude and Jacqueline, to join them on deck.
Little Victoire, enchanted with his novel situation, and too young to
comprehend the grief of his mother, was in high health and spirit. Claude, who
was enthusiastically fond of children, had succeeded in obtaining a large share
of his affection, and was the companion of his sports and the kind anticipator
of his wants and wishes.
As the vessel approached the
They were now safely landed, and
entering
The Friar now introduced Monsieur
and Madame St Amand more particularly to the Marchioness; and on their politely
insisting on the whole party’s remaining at their house until the next day,
when they promised to accompany them to the plantation, they proceeded to Monte
Amand.
The spirits of the Marchioness being
soothed by the attentive kindness of her friends, in the morning she declared
her ability for the ride. The beautiful appearance of the island seemed to make
a considerable impression on her mind, which had been rather prejudiced in its
disfavour; and once she could not help exclaiming to Claude, “Were but my
Antoine here, methinks I should not regret the fertile fields of France.”
As the little party entered the
plantation, crouds of negroes, unrestrained by the modes of the more polished
European, rushed forward, and throwing themselves at the feet of Madame,
uttered the wildest demonstrations of joy; while Victoire, delighted with the
noise, screamed aloud with rapture. Madame, leaning on Claude, gracefully
presented her son to the grateful Negroes, saying, “Behold, my friends, the son
of Richambeau! To your care and faithful services, during the detention of his
father, his mother commends him.” “And to your notice, Madame!” said the Friar,
presenting a negro, whose dignified look at once announced
him, “allow me to introduce the noble Quako.” “Excellent, most excellent man!”
said Madame, “How shall the wife of Richambeau thank the generous friend of her
husband! Accept the hand I offer as that of a sister; and may this meeting be
the commencement of a friendship lasting as disinterested!” With a dignified
and interesting humility, Quako pressed the offered hand of Madame to his
lips:─Then, seizing the young Victoire, kissed, with uncontroulable
emotion, the little hands and smiling mouth of the lovely boy:─Then,
bursting into a violent passion of tears, rushed from their presence.
It was now that the provident care
of the most excellent of men and of husbands was to be displayed to the
astonished senses of Adonia.─Already had they traversed the plantation;
when, on turning a sudden angle, embosomed in a little paradise of blooming
shrubs, (whose luxuriant growth, aided by the genial influence of climate, had
assisted the generous plan,) rose, on a gentle eminence, a structure, formed of
slighter materials, it is true, but built on the exact model of the Castle at
Bellesme. A little to the left of it, was a smaller building, that of Pierre,
the superintendant’s, and designed for his residence; and on the right of the
Castle, in the form of a crescent, were erected the dwellings of the emigrant
party of the Marchioness, Father Anslem, and Quako.
All this had been arranged by
Monsieur in his letter to Claude;─who, giving Quako a clear idea of the
plan, left it under his superintending care, and that of the Monk; and so happy
were the negroes at the probability of their deliverer and his family taking up
their abode in the island, that they were unanimous in exertion; and the ground
being laid out, some were employed in planting, some in building,─and the
whole was finished, and, with the assistance of Madame St Amand, furnished in
the style of simple elegance, which Claude had informed her was congenial to
the taste of the Marchioness.
Overcome by this new proof of the
unceasing attention of her Lord, it was with difficulty that the Friar and
Claude could support this amiable woman into the mansion thus prepared for her,
when, leaving her to the care of Madame St Amand and Jacqueline, they retired
to give orders for the arrangement of her household.
A few days repose, combined with the
grateful affection of her young friends, and the delicate attentions of
Monsieur and Madame St Amand, had restored to Adonia the resigned composure of
one deeply feeling, but endeavouring to rise superior
to the disquietude of fear and suspense. Her boy, blooming as an angel, was
already become the idol of the negroes; and, struck
with the noble and commanding figure of Quako, which indeed, for height and
fine proportion, bore some resemblance to that of the Marquis, he constantly
addressed him by the appellation of “Black Papa.”
Our interesting emigrants had now
been six weeks on the island; and Madame, anxious to fulfil the wish of her
husband, had, with her own hand, distributed the monthly prizes once. In this
task she was assisted by little Victoire, who, proud of his new office, with
enchanting simplicity, assured the delighted negroes, “that Mama presented such
and such gifts, because they were good, like little Victoire.”
The agitation caused by their
arrival had scarcely subsided, when, with deep regret, Jacqueline observed the
apparent alteration in the health of Father Anslem, and expressing her fear to
Claude, that the events, whose melancholy impression had deprived her of a
father, would also occasion the decline of their venerable preceptor, was, for
the first time, informed, that some dreadful event relative to that excellent
man, early in life, had occurred in the place they were now in:─ “But of
the nature of that event, my Jacqueline,” said Claude, “or in what manner it
affected the happiness of the worthy father, I am ignorant. Though, were it not
for the delicacy I feel in prying into the secrets of one so dear, I am sure I
could gain the necessary information from Monsieur St Amand, whose father was
on the island, and in some way connected with our friend, not then known as the
humble and virtuous Father Anslem, but as the noble and accomplished Theodore
De Montpensier.
“The Marquis informed me, before I
left Bellesme the first time, that in consenting to accompany me, the good
Friar had made a sacrifice of feeling to affection:─and so thoroughly
aware am I of the extent of that affection, that unless circumstances render
the disclosure improper, our venerable friend will yet confide to his adopted
children the history of his sorrows.”
A few nights after this
conversation, Baptiste having declined partaking of the usual evening walk, and
retaining Victoire as the amusement of the period of their absence, Madame and
Jacqueline, attended by Quako and Claude, extended their ramble to a more
distant and romantic part of the island than they had hitherto explored, and on
entering a beautiful dell, were surprised by the appearance of Father Anslem
and Monsieur St Amand, who seemed to issue out of a small grove of wild
Cinnamon and Corbaries. With the promptitude occasioned by unintentional
intrusion they were rapidly retiring, when the Friar advanced. The traces of
deep emotion were visible on his countenance, and of the tenderest sympathy on
that of Monsieur. The Monk took the hand of Madame, and, while audible sighs
burst from his heart, led her on, the rest of the party following, at the
motion of his hand, to the wood from whence they had observed him emerge. On
entering the inclosure, with astonishment they beheld, raised about two feet
from the ground, the long branches of the
TO THE MEMORY
OF
THE MASSACRED CECILIA,
THIS MARBLE IS INSCRIBED,
By
THEODORE DE MONTPENSIER,
AND
Anno Domini 1760.
“Long, Madame, very long has it been
the intention of the unfortunate man before you,” said the Monk, “to unfold to
you, and to those beloved beings, the event which saddened and overcast his
spring of life! What time then can be more suitable, or what place more
appropriate for the mournful relation, than over the tomb which incloses the
ashes of her who was the innocent cause of my sorrows? Blessed spirit,”
continued he, apostrophizing that of the being he lamented, “if thou art yet
sensible of the weakness of mortality, if thou art hovering over the spot
consecrated to thy memory, aid, oh, aid thy unfortunate lover! support him through the detail of thy matchless worth, thy
bitter and calamitous fate!”
Deeply affected, Claude, Quako,
and Monsieur St Amand, formed, with the flexible branches of the trees, seats
for Madame and Jacqueline: And the Monk, after a visible struggle to subdue his
feelings, commenced his narrative, having recourse occasionally to a diary
which he appeared to have been shewing to Monsieur St Amand previous to their
arrival at the spot.
“Born the second son of a cadet of
one of the first families in France, and bred up with high notions of honour,
and what I owed the illustrious root from whence I sprung, I shall pass over
the earlier part of a life, whose opening seemed the dawn of a propitious day.
The darling of my parents, who spared no expence on the cultivation of talents,
whose supposed brilliancy existed chiefly in their fond partiality, I shall
also pass over the detail of those studies through which the youth of noble
birth prepare for the high destination to which they aspire.
“My brother Adolphus was my senior
by two years, and intended for the service, which being at that time considered
as the school for finishing the education of a gentleman, it was determined
that I should serve one campaign, and then take upon me, in conjunction with
the worthy father of Monsieur St Amand, the management of a large colonial
possession in Guadaloupe. Suffice it to say, that in pursuing the plan chalked
out, I was not branded with having tarnished the military reputation of my
ancestors. Soon after, resigning my sword for the more lucrative profession
selected, I bade adieu to France, and after a prosperous voyage, landed at
Guadaloupe, precisely on the day, in the evening of which, in honour of a newly
arrived Governor, a grand ball was to be given at Basseterre.
“Monsieur St Amand had been some
years on the island, and being a married man, my father wished I should
domesticate with him, in preference to taking up house at so early an age. I
accordingly, on landing, was conducted to his, and after spending a day, which
served entirely to banish the idea of the newness of our acquaintance, in the
evening accompanied him and Madame to the ball. On entering the Town-house, I
went through the necessary etiquette of introduction to the Governor and chief
men of the island; after which, as I was assiduously attending Madame, she
smilingly told me, she must not monopolize a newly imported beau, lest she
should incur the displeasure of those ladies, who were not, like her, contented
with the admiration of one. Therefore,” continued she, “as I observe Monsieur
is engaged with the Governor’s Lady, I shall introduce you to one well
qualified to be your Cicerone;” at the same time holding up her fan to a young
man of an elegant exterior, “Come hither, Charles,” said she, “for once I will
condescend to employ you, if you promise to exert yourself suitably to the
honour conferred. The young man advanced with a smile, and Madame taking my
hand, put it into his, saying, to you then, for this evening, I commit the charge
of my newly-arrived friend, Monsieur de Montpensier, and trust, that in the
polite attentions of Monsieur de Launi, he will receive a favourable specimen
of the hospitable manners of Guadaloupe. Then, gracefully kissing her hand to
both, she joined the party of the Governor’s Lady; while young de Launi, with a
polite frankness, assured me, that of all the favours the goodness of Madame St
Amand had conferred on him, the present was the most gratifying to his
feelings.” Then leading me through the rooms, the dancing having commenced, he
introduced me to a beautiful girl, whom I then led to the set. De Launi soon
followed with a partner, whom I supposed he had selected in the interval. As we
were near the top, and soon began the dance, I had not observed the Lady who
honoured Charles with her hand. But after having gone down, and being soon
followed by them, as I was replying to one of the brilliant nothings of my
partner, my attention was powerfully awakened by the melting pathos of a voice,
whose unequalled sweetness seems yet to play around my heart. On turning about,
I observed it was that of the young lady who had been dancing with de Launi;
and being arrived at the lower part of the room, she was now conversing with a
knot of gentlemen, who seemed anxious to catch the “silver sounds” which had so
suddenly impressed me, and which induced me to examine, with increasing
interest, the fair being from whom they proceeded.
“When I observed the almost manly
outline of a forehead, over which strayed, in careless profusion, a quantity of
dark brown hair, I should have thought its expression too commanding, had it
not been for the feminine delicacy and contour of the lower part of the face.
Of her eyes, or what constituted their powerful attraction, it is difficult to
determine; it was neither any particular beauty of form or colour, but eyes so
full of soul, so expressive of the diviner emanation of feeling and intellect,
never in any other being have I seen equalled. When silent, the general
expression of her countenance might be termed pensive; but when speaking, or
listening to a tale of interest, it glowed with celestial effulgence! Her form
scarcely rose to the graceful, yet her movements were eminently so; she seemed
to tread on air; and even at this distance, I can recal the feeling with which
I assented to the remark of a gentleman who stood near me, who, on observing
her cross the room, exclaimed, “There is sentiment in her very walk!”
“With a creature thus endowed, for a
partner, it was with extreme astonishment that I remarked the indifference of
de Launi, who, scarce noticing, beyond what mere politeness required, the being
who had thus honoured him, repeatedly strode off to utter a profusion of
compliments the most bare-faced, to the gaudy belles of which the assembly was
chiefly composed.
“My partner was unquestionably the
handsomest girl in the room; but she was one of those ornamented trifles, who,
however they may adorn a ballroom, are such as the heart of the feeling and
domestic man will invariably turn from with disgust. Wearied by her flippancy,
it was with heart-felt pleasure I heard her declare, that the vulgarity of the
exertion would prevent her from venturing through another dance; and having
learnt that she was niece to the Governor’s wife, I led her to a seat by that
Lady. Then going in pursuit of Monsieur de Launi, I eagerly requested he would
introduce me to that charming woman. “What charming woman?” said he, “I think
that title almost exclusively belongs to the one you danced with; for I verily
believe, such another set of painted babies it would be difficult to produce in
any other part of the globe; and I think the Pope ought especially to exempt
the men of Guadaloupe from any other penance for their sins, than the one they
are daily obliged to undergo, of saying civil things to such moppets. But
prithee, describe your enchantress; and, if in my power, I will with pleasure
accede to your request.” When I told him it was his partner whom I meant, he
surveyed me for a moment, with a glance I thought
singularly scrutinising: then, turning on his heel, he exclaimed, “What, Miss
Leicester! Really I should never have recognised your goddess from your
flattering appellation. She is a good enough little girl, but I think scarcely
even pretty. But allons, allons; I shall soon effect the gratification
you wish.” Saying this, he led me back to the room I had lately quitted, and at
the upper end of which, Miss Leicester, seated on a sopha with two other
ladies, was supporting, with a number of gentlemen who surrounded them, a
conversation, the animation of which was broken in upon by my eccentric
Cicerone, who advanced without ceremony through the band, and seizing her hand,
exclaimed, “Miss Leicester, here is a gentleman newly arrived from France, who
says, that your very face manifests an hostile defiance to that country,
inasmuch, that it plainly discourages one chief article of its manufacture;
therefore, being himself a considerable exporter of rouge, while he expresses
his gratitude to many of your fair companions, he begs the honour of an
introduction, that he may have an opportunity of converting you from your
heretical opinion on the subject. Allow, therefore, Monsieur de Montpensier the
felicity of kissing your fair hand.”
“The group of gentlemen, laughing at
this whimsical address, retired, and made room for me to advance, when I paid,
with involuntary aukwardness, the usual slight compliment of introduction,
which she returned, gracefully felicitating my arrival on the island. It was
now that I felt enjoyment, pure as it was rational, supersede the
unsatisfactory festivity of the former part of the evening. Charles de Launi,
finding his partner declined dancing again, and grown weary of a conversation
too sedate for his lively spirits, deputed me to take care of his “fair
charge,” as he styled Miss Leicester, and telling her that I had said, “she
would be a tolerably charming woman with the help of Carmine,” left us, in
pursuit of diversion more congenial to his taste.
“I fear, Monsieur de Montpensier,”
said the fair Cecilia, “if you form your opinion of the ladies of Guadaloupe
from the description of the lively rattle who has just left us, you have
already begun to contrast them with those of France, eminently to their
disadvantage. But suspend your opinion for a while. Wits claim a licence; and
Monsieur de Launi ranking as one, you must allow the necessary exaggeration.
Believe you will, on this island, meet many amiable and accomplished women; and
from the manners of Madame St Amand I would recommend you to form your opinion,
in preference to the too sarcastic delineation of your whimsical Cicerone.”
“While indeed I felt there was one
fair creature, whose mind and manners could redeem the opinion he had
expressed, I could not, though a Frenchman, tutor my tongue to utter what would
bear the interpretation of a compliment; therefore, leaving herself entirely
out of the answer, I assured her of the favourable idea I had formed of the
ladies, from the specimen she had selected. The two ladies, who were sitting
with Miss Leicester, and to whom she had presented me, now joined in the
conversation, and, for an hour, supported it with great sprightliness; when De
Launi, returning to lead his partner to the supper-room, whispered, that
“etiquette required I should do the same to mine.”
“Sensible that I had been deficient,
and regretting, that politeness sometimes obliges us to desert the gold for the
dross, I bowed to the fair group, and sought the beauty whom I had a while
forgotten. She was sitting nearly where I had left her;─but,
although surrounded by the chief men of the island, an air of discontent and
hauteur had overspread those fine features, so lately dimpling in all the
witchery of blandishment. I had behaved rudely; and, feeling that an apology
was due, I framed the most gallant one the confusion I really felt would allow,
and which being condescendingly accepted, I led the fair one, in all the
splendour of conscious beauty, to the supper-table.
“Here, as precedence was strictly
attended to, my rank and that of my fair companion placed us near the top; and
it was with keener sensations of envy than I had ever before experienced, that
I observed the situation of the careless Charles, who, seated with her, to have
been near whom, I would gladly have renounced rank, or any distinction which
should impede that happier one, was enjoying, with those around them, the
hilarity of mirth, and the effusion of wit.