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B I A N G A. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 - Crudelis ubique 
 
 Luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima mortis imago. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 Quis furor, O Cives ! quae tanta licentia ferri. 
 
 Lucan. 
 
 JOHN WILKS, Jun. 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED BY R. CLAY, DEVONSHIRE STREET. 
 
 1823. 
 
^% 
 
 
 205449 
 '13 
 
MRS. I. P. ROBERTS. 
 
 My Dear Cousin, 
 
 In dedicating to you this little 
 production of hours rescued occa- 
 sionally from my professional pursuits, 
 I fondly anticipate that you will 
 accppt it as an indication of my 
 
VI DEDICATION. 
 
 sincere esteem, and of my respect 
 for your talents, and admiration of 
 your virtues. 
 
 Beneath your hospitable roof, and 
 seated under the shade of those elms 
 which add so much beauty to the ex- 
 ternal appearance of your interesting 
 dwelling, I have enjoyed some hours, 
 which, in the bright recollection of 
 the past, I shall ever regard as among 
 the most pleasing of my life. To 
 you, therefore, as a friend — a relative 
 — and a woman — of taste most re- 
 fined, heart most affectionate, and 
 mind well informed — I present this 
 little offering. 
 
DEDICATION. vii 
 
 It was written after perusing some 
 memorials of the success of our country 
 in the late continental struggle, and 
 after conversing with an intelligent 
 soldier, who served in the campaign. 
 It was intended to delineate a nar- 
 rative, not without foundation, though 
 not literally correct. Alas ! however, 
 many scenes yet more distressing the 
 historian might delineate, and on them 
 the moralist might reflect. 
 
 When 1 wrote this Fragment, I 
 intended that it should form one of 
 a series of tales, all illustrating the 
 evils of war, an idea first suggested to 
 
Vlll DEDICATION. 
 
 me by Dr. Chalmers: but other pur- 
 suits, of a more laborious and less 
 pleasing character, have prevented 
 me, at present, from prosecuting my 
 plan. Several of my friends, who 
 have perused the MS. of Bianca, 
 have therefore requested me to pub- 
 lish it at once. With part of this 
 request I comply, and I print it : to 
 publish it would be impossible. I 
 have consented to print it for my 
 friends, but not for the public; and 
 to you, as one of my best and most 
 valued friends, I present it. To you 
 and them I do not fear to commit it, 
 as your criticism will be kind, and 
 
DEDICATION. IX 
 
 your judgment partial. Accept it, 
 then, as an indication of my regard, 
 and believe me, that I am, 
 
 My dear Cousin, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 J .WILKS, Jun. 
 
 36, New Broad Street, 
 
 20th August, 1823. 
 
BIANCA. 
 
BIANCA. 
 
 It was night. The wind gently blew 
 o'er the Forest of Soignes. The western 
 hemisphere was no longer tinged by the 
 parting rays of the golden sun, but 
 was illumined by the fires of numerous 
 bivouacs. The most profound silence 
 reigned. The Anglo-Belgian army, over- 
 come by the fatigues of preceding days, 
 was wrapt in sleep, though in order of 
 battle, on the causeway leading from 
 Charleroi to Brussels. It was the 17th of 
 June, 1815. The Castle of Hougoumont 
 
14 BIANCA. 
 
 was occupied by one of their divisions, 
 and the Farm of La Haye Sainte was 
 the position of one of its brigades. The 
 reserve was at Mont St. Jean, where 
 the roads from Charleroi and Nivelles to 
 Brussels intersect each other. A brigade 
 of English cavalry occupied all the open- 
 ings on the left, as far as the village of 
 Ohain. The French army crossed the 
 causeway from Nivelles to Brussels, 
 occupied the space between the cause- 
 way of Nivelles and Charleroi, and 
 extended towards the wood of Hou- 
 goumont, and the farm of La Belle 
 Alliance. 
 
 The spectacle was magnificent, but it 
 was desolating. It inspired awe; but it 
 was that of terror, and not of interest. 
 It was then that Bianca, partaking of 
 
BIANCA. 15 
 
 the general consternation; rushed forth 
 from her secluded dwelling in Ohain, 
 
 to visit La Haye Sainte.- But who is 
 
 Bianca? and where is she hasting? 
 
 She was the lovely daughter of an 
 Italian merchant, and was educated at 
 Leghorn, in all the elegancies of a polite 
 and fashionable city. She was intelligent 
 and virtuous. To M. Dejean she had at- 
 tached herself, and to her he was devoted. 
 She was sylphic in form. Her eye was 
 lively, yet sweetly melancholy. Her pro- 
 file was Italian, but it was relieved by her 
 auburn tresses; and the glowing ruby of 
 her cheek and lip excited love, as it in- 
 spired with interest. 
 
 Bereft in early life of maternal guidance 
 and protection, and being the only pledge 
 
16 BIANCA. 
 
 of her parents' loves, in her happiness her 
 father was happy, and her will was the 
 rule of his conduct. It should not have 
 been so. Weakness and indecision are 
 as injurious as severity and tyranny. 
 But on the mind of Bianca his conduct 
 produced no evil. Whilst she was the 
 gayest of the gay, her vivacity was well 
 principled. Whilst she was affable, she 
 was dignified ; and from her presence 
 immodesty or sensuality retired con- 
 founded. Her attachments were not 
 numerous, but they were ardent. She 
 was not hasty in her decisions, but she 
 was firm in her resolves. Against her 
 virtue and consistency even the tongue 
 of slander dared not to issue its destruc- 
 tive venom. There is a point of character 
 attained by some, when envy ceases to 
 attempt to injure; when the good love, 
 
BIANCA. 17 
 
 and even the profligate respect. How 
 few arrive at such an elevation! But 
 this was the moral dignity of Bianca. 
 
 She was scarcely twenty, when to 
 Monsieur Dejean she united herself by 
 a tie which is indissoluble. She had 
 known him long, and loved him sincerely. 
 He was an orphan — a native of Belgium; 
 his fortune was adequate, though not ex- 
 tensive. He was intelligent. His person 
 was manly, and his countenance inter- 
 esting: but Bianca did not regard them. 
 She judged not of him by his external 
 qualifications. The recesses of his soul 
 she explored; and amiability, morality, 
 sensibility, goodness, and love, she there 
 discovered to reside. " To Dejean/' 
 she would say, " I became attached in 
 proportion as I knew him ; and I am 
 
 B 
 
18 BIANCA. 
 
 persuaded I shall love him best when my 
 intimacy has been most permanent." The 
 blossoms of youth may disappear; but 
 where love exists, they will be succeeded 
 by the fruits of maturity, which, while 
 they become mellow with age, will retain 
 all their richness. 
 
 From filial affection to her surviving 
 parent, and from an anxious wish to smooth 
 his passage through a world of sorrow, 
 she determined not to forsake him, till 
 she had deposited his remains with the 
 ashes of her beloved mother. It was 
 a prominent stipulation with Dejean, that 
 they should not leave Leghorn; and, 
 unhesitatingly, he acceded to her wish. 
 When affection rules the heart, the head 
 and the hand will be subservient to its 
 volitions. 
 
B1ANCA. 19 
 
 Bianca beheld herself the mother of a 
 beauteous boy. He resembled Dejean. 
 She idolized him. It was the idolatry 
 of the heart, of maternal affection, of the 
 purest love. She determined herself to 
 educate him; and Dejean pictured to his 
 mind much felicity from assisting her. 
 
 They agreed on the outline of the plan to 
 be pursued. His heart was to be the subject 
 of watchfulness rather than his head; and the 
 formation of noble, virtuous, and generous 
 principles, they determined to prefer to even 
 a profundity of intellect, or an originality 
 of mind. They rightly felt, that what is 
 termed by some persons genius, is the least 
 important trait in the human character, and 
 that to be good is far better than to be wise. 
 
 The blossom expanded, and it became 
 b2 
 
20 BIANCA. 
 
 a bud. It was nurtured and watched with 
 increasing assiduity and interest. The 
 dew-drop was removed, as soon as it 
 appeared, by the hand of maternal affec- 
 tion; and no moth or insect was allowed 
 to injure the stem, or collect among the 
 leaves of the pretty flow'ret. 
 
 Bianca and Dejean were one in senti- 
 ment as in occupation. In the improve- 
 ment of their minds, the cultivation of 
 the arts, the intercommunication of good 
 offices, in deeds of benevolence, in visits 
 of mercy, and in filial and parental duties, 
 they spent each succeeding day. They 
 were never weary. Society for them 
 had its charms, and solitude its delights. 
 They could mingle with the one, or 
 retire into the other, with equal satisfac- 
 tion. Their minds were well regulated, 
 
BIANCA. 21 
 
 their passions disciplined, their feelings 
 controlled. 
 
 In undisturbed tranquillity they were 
 reposing, when Bianca was suddenly de- 
 prived of a father, as good as he was kind. 
 The deprivation was, by her, wholly un- 
 expected: it was, therefore, additionally 
 severe. She wept bitterly. Her tears 
 were those of the heart. Her grief was 
 that of the soul. " Oh, my lov'd father," 
 she exclaimed, as she pressed his icy hand 
 to her bosom, " thou art not dead — it 
 cannot be. My father! Oh, my father! 
 who with parental tenderness didst be- 
 hold me when, a smiling infant, my eyes 
 first opened on the light of heaven ; — who 
 didst watch me when, a babe, I reposed 
 unconscious on my mother's bosom; — 
 who didst support me when, tottering in 
 
22 BIANCA. 
 
 childhood, I rambled o'er the mead, and 
 plucked the wild flower; — who, when my 
 opening mind expanded to receive in- 
 struction, didst provide me with tutors; — 
 who, when a mother died, didst prove a 
 mother and a father both to me; — who, 
 with unerring gentle hand, didst lead me 
 out of danger, and keep me from it; — ■ 
 who didst ever say, Bianca, be happy; — 
 who didst give to my Dejean his hand, 
 and blest my darling boy! Thou, my 
 father, art not dead!" — But his eye was 
 fixed, and his lips were sealed, and he 
 was no more. His furrowed cheeks she 
 bathed with her tears; his generous hand 
 she clasped; and vowed eternal gratitude 
 to the memory of the departed. 
 
 Dejean sympathized with her. The pul- 
 sations of his soul vibrated with her's. 
 
BIANCA. 23 
 
 He wept and sighed, and together they 
 watched his pale corse by the blue lamp 
 of midnight. The scene was solemn; and 
 the enquiring lispings of their babe, for 
 his dear grandpapa, awakened in the 
 breasts of his parents yet deeper sorrow. 
 
 But grief will destroy itself. Well it 
 is so. If it had not been, Dejean and 
 his Bianca would have fallen victims to 
 their sorrow. 
 
 To them, Leghorn was ncv longer inter- 
 esting. Bianca had there been deprived 
 of both her parents. Dejean had lost his 
 two best friends; and every building on 
 which they gazed, and every scene they 
 contemplated, revived their melancholy, 
 and impaired their health, For Bianca 
 a change of residence was essential ; and 
 
24 BIANCA. 
 
 as Dejean was the echo of her feelings, 
 for him some variety was equally neces- 
 sary. 
 
 But to where should they remove? The 
 world was before them. Their fortune 
 was sufficient, their minds well informed, 
 their manners polished and fascinating. 
 Any court they might adorn by their pre- 
 sence, and to any society they would be a 
 great acquisition. 
 
 To England they had many objections ; 
 but that which principally operated was 
 ignorance of the language. France was 
 the seat of feuds and apprehensions; and 
 in a country so situated they would not 
 therefore permanently reside. They re- 
 solved to travel; and as the Ex-Emperor 
 was in Elba, and somewhat more of 
 
BIANCA. 25 
 
 tranquillity appeared to reign in the inte- 
 rior of the French empire, they deter- 
 mined, towards the close of the year 
 1814, on travelling to Paris. 
 
 The season was favourable ; and, in the 
 middle of the succeeding January, they 
 found themselves in the splendid city 
 of Paris. All was novel and imposing. 
 Bianca was exhilarated; and Dejean, as 
 usual, participated in her felicity. The 
 city was not indeed tranquil, but they 
 were themselves calm. A storm was evi- 
 dently gathering around the political hori- 
 zon of that unfortunate country; but, happy 
 in themselves, Bianca and Dejean thought 
 not of national calamity. They would 
 weep bitterly if disease assailed their 
 darling boy; but no tear was seen in 
 their eye when the Imperial Eagle flew 
 
26 BIANCA. 
 
 froni steeple to steeple to the towers of 
 Notre Dame at Paris. It was not that 
 they did not feel, but that their conjugal 
 and parental love was so ardent. The 
 heart of man cannot be engrossed by the 
 love of two classes of objects at the same 
 moment. An ardent patriot would forfeit 
 his life for his country's welfare, real or 
 imagined; but he would not at the same 
 moment sacrifice it for his wife and chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Bianca and Dejean were received at 
 Paris with unusual affection. They excited 
 peculiar interest in those whom they visited. 
 The susceptibility of the French character 
 was called into exercise. In their affec- 
 tion all were happy; they breathed the 
 sigh of sympathy in unison with that of 
 Bianca's; and when her face was bright- 
 

 BIANCA. 27 
 
 ened with a smile, the laughter-loving 
 goddess seemed to reign triumphant within 
 them. " I love such tenderness of soul," 
 said Bianca, " though I compassionate the 
 possessors; their lives must be a circle 
 of sorrow, for, independent of their indivi- 
 dual calamities, by sympathy they make 
 the troubles of all men their own." Bianca 
 resembled them, though she did not per- 
 ceive it, or, perceiving, would not acknow- 
 ledge it. Whose eye was moistened with 
 a tear, and her's did not sympathize? 
 Whose heart was saddened by disappoint- 
 ment, and her's did not throb? Whose 
 face was sad, and her countenance was not 
 sombre? She was all sensibility. 
 
 In domestic and social enjoyments they 
 were already happy. No change of scene, 
 no alteration of climate, no difference in 
 
28 BIANCA. 
 
 costume, or national character, diminished 
 their felicity. They were happy in them- 
 selves ; and as the great orb of day, itself 
 effulgence, diffuses its radiant beams over 
 a wide creation, so Dejean and Bianca 
 imparted to others the happiness which 
 themselves enjoyed. They alone are wise 
 and happy, who are superior to circum- 
 stances, and triumph over opposition. 
 
 But the fatal second of March at length 
 arrived. On the preceding day, Napoleon 
 had disembarked from Elba, at Cannes, in 
 the Gulph of Juan; had already passed 
 through Grasse; was advancing to Bar- 
 reme ; and would probably soon appear at 
 the gates of Paris. 
 
 The city was all consternation — a civil 
 war appeared inevitable. Napoleon's one 
 
BIANCA. 29 
 
 thousand chosen band rapidly increased in 
 numbers. Every hour, fresh intelligence of 
 devotion to his cause was communicated. 
 What could be done? A scene of inde- 
 scribable confusion ensued the announce- 
 ment of the event. 
 
 The Count D'Artois, the Dukes of 
 Orleans and Tarento, quitted Paris. The 
 troops were numerous. The city was well 
 fortified. The garrisons of all the frontier 
 towns were ample ; and those who were 
 unacquainted with the character of the 
 French people, predicted the capture of 
 Napoleon, and the dispersion of his troops. 
 But they were mistaken. With a won- 
 drous enthusiasm he was received. In 
 every stage of his march, fresh triumphs 
 attended him. On the 19th, the King 
 quitted Paris, and on the 20th, Napoleon 
 
30 BIANCA. 
 
 entered the Thuilleries, amidst enthusiastic 
 acclamations. The tri-coloured cockade 
 became universal, and he resumed his 
 government. The nation seemed impelled 
 by one feeling, but it was momentary. 
 Like the Avalaunche, on the Alps, it 
 carried all before it, and no time was 
 afforded for consideration or conditions. 
 
 Awed by events so imposing and sin- 
 gular, Dejean and Bianca felt that they 
 were in a new world, and gladly would 
 they have retraced their steps to Leghorn. 
 But it was impossible, and they did not 
 therefore repine. 
 
 Bianca was not however joyous. Her 
 sphere of action and acquaintance was 
 changed. The domestic circle became 
 necessarily political; and the tender sensi- 
 
BIANCA. 31 
 
 bilities of the heart were exchanged for 
 the bolder, but far less pleasing, emotions 
 of national passion. 
 
 The feeling of rapture is however gene- 
 rally transient, and it is succeeded by calm 
 investigation. It was thus at Paris. The 
 enthusiasm of the populace was mode- 
 rated. Then the presence of Napoleon 
 excited less interest. Things appeared 
 gradually to be finding their level; the 
 enthusiastic became unconcerned, and 
 the visionary reasonable. But Paris was 
 not the city of Bianca's destination, nor 
 France the empire in which she desired 
 to remain. From the repose, and not 
 the agitation of life, her happiness arose, 
 and the felicity of Dejean was only that 
 of Bianca. 
 
32 BIANCA. 
 
 In the Netherlands, not far ftom St. 
 Lambert, and about an equal distance 
 from Lasne, is the village of Ohain. It 
 merits not description; but it was the birth- 
 place of Dejean. In the farm of La 
 Haye Sainte, situate in the road from 
 Charleroi to Brussels, his uncle yet resided. 
 And, anxious to explore the scenes where 
 he first inhaled the breath of heaven, and 
 to tread the meadows where he first 
 revelled, in all the innocence of childhood, 
 who was dearer to the soul of Bianca than 
 herself, she requested Dejean to fulfil his 
 original intention, and immediately to 
 repair to Ohain. 
 
 Without sheding one tear, they quitted 
 Paris. It was the scene of military pre- 
 paration, and of the worst passions of 
 the human mind. In May they reached 
 
BIANCA, 33 
 
 Ohaiu. But how imprudent the under- 
 taking! Already the allies were in arms. 
 In Flanders the French were divided; 
 and it might even then have appeared 
 possible, that the still seclusion of Ohain 
 might be broken by the cannonade of a 
 desolating army. 
 
 They visited the uncle of Dejean. He 
 was aged and infirm. Many a summer 
 sun had risen o'er his head, and many a 
 wintry storm had pelted round his dwelling; 
 but the name of Dejean made him forget 
 his feebleness, and he clasped in his arms 
 the orphan of his beloved sister. Bianca 
 he received with smiles, and the evening 
 of life appeared transformed into the 
 morning, by their presence and society. 
 The lovely boy, who was the endeared 
 pledge of their tender union, was caressed 
 c 
 
34 BIANCA. 
 
 with all the ardor of youth, softened by 
 the matured sensibility of age: and the 
 name of Camillas was often on his lips, 
 and dear to his heart. But circumstances 
 obliged them to return to Ohain. 
 
 June soon arrived. The scenery was 
 champante and beautiful. The air was 
 mild and salubrious. The season was for- 
 ward and luxuriant in charms. Dejean 
 and Bianca were happy. But the happi- 
 ness of man is but transient. The quiet 
 enjoyments of Leghorn had been inter- 
 rupted by the desolation of death; the 
 cheerful and pleasing vivacity of Paris, by 
 the noise, and clamor, and sad disorder of 
 national confusion and alarm; and even 
 the retirements of Ohain, a foreign army 
 threatened to invade. Already had the 
 aged inhabitant of La Haye Sainte been 
 
BIANCA. 35 
 
 alarmed by the movements of the Prusso- 
 Saxon army to Charleroi. His quiet 
 dwelling had echoed with the sound of 
 military music, and the trampling of the 
 proud steeds. Who could wonder at his 
 alarm? Bianca anticipated it. She felt 
 that, though many a loud peal of thunder 
 had broken o'er his dwelling, and rever- 
 berated in the Woods of Hougoumont, 
 yet that the passions of national revenge 
 and greedy ambition, are far more dan- 
 gerous than the tempest which uproots 
 the oak of the forest, or than the flood 
 which inundates the fruitful valley. De- 
 jean participated in all her feelings of 
 tender emotion for his aged relative, and 
 together they resolved on visiting his abode, 
 at least to share with him his sorrows, if 
 they could not impart to him confidence. 
 But their resolutions were frustrated. 
 c2 
 
36 BIANCA. 
 
 Camillus, who gambolled in the morning 
 on the green, swade with all the lively 
 unthinking happiness of childhood, in the 
 evening was pale and dejected. Over his 
 little cot Bianca hung her head— watched 
 every movement of her darling boy, and, 
 with an angel's tenderness and a mother's 
 care, wept at the sufferings which, with all 
 her attention, she could not alleviate, and 
 sighed to be allowed to bear his sickness 
 ten-fold, if by that he could be relieved. 
 " Mamma," he would say, " why do you 
 weep ?" Poor Bianca could hardly support 
 his inquiry; his interesting solicitude over- 
 powered her. Dejean was distracted. 
 The fever of Camillus increased. His 
 little temples throbbed with distraction. 
 He became insensible, even to a know- 
 ledge of his father. There are moments 
 and emotions which cannot be described. 
 
BIANCA. 37 
 
 The imagination may conceive, and woeful 
 experience may realize, but language can- 
 not delineate them. 
 
 The morning of the 16th brought to 
 Ohain a messenger from La Have Sainte: 
 Monsieur, their uncle, desired their attend- 
 ance on him. Intelligence had reached 
 him, that the French army had entered 
 Charleroi. The third Belgian division 
 were not far from Quatre Bras. Both 
 armies were advancing towards the abode 
 of Monsieur, and he was greatly agitated. 
 " What can be done?" said Dejean, as he 
 entered the room with the affrighted mes- 
 senger where Bianca sat. " What can be 
 done? I cannot leave my boy, and my 
 Bianca too — and yet age and duty and 
 feebleness call me hence/' — "Fly," she 
 exclaimed. "Fly, my Dejean, to the mise- 
 rable man — consign to me this dear pledge 
 
38 BIANCA. 
 
 of our affection — support the tottering 
 limbs of decrepitude — convey your uncle 
 to Ohain — and speedily return." Part of 
 her directions he obeyed. Would to heaven 
 he could have fulfilled them all ! 
 
 " But where is Bianca," said the old 
 man, with tremulous anxiety; " and where 
 is Camillus ?" as Dejean entered the farm. 
 
 Their absence was a disappointment too 
 distressing for his mind, and the cause of 
 such absence was even more agonizing. 
 He clasped his aged hands, and many a 
 tear rolled down his furrowed cheeks, as 
 he repeated an Ave Maria for Bianca and 
 her boy. 
 
 The night advanced. Dejean could not 
 return. Intelligence was brought by a 
 shepherd, of the Battles of Ligny and 
 
BIANCA. 39 
 
 Quatre Bras. Monsieur was additionally 
 alarmed. Marshal Blucherwas retreating, 
 and hastening to Warres. Dejean was 
 additionally agitated. But that was not 
 all. The French army were advancing on 
 Brussels. Universal devastation was in- 
 creasing, and yet Dejean could not forsake 
 his uncle, and he would not quit his dwell- 
 ing. He determined there to live, or 
 there to die. Indeed, any movement 
 might have so disorganized his nervous 
 system, as to have caused immediate dis- 
 solution. 
 
 Bianca expected his return. During 
 the long night she alternately attended on 
 her babe, or hastily drew back the curtain 
 from the window, to see if Dejean was 
 approaching, to console her by his tender- 
 ness, and soothe her by his sympathy. 
 
40 BIANCA. 
 
 But the night passed, and Dejean was 
 absent. 
 
 In the morning he resolved to visit 
 Ohain, but he was summoned, at an early 
 hour, to the death-bed of his uncle : on his 
 arm he would alone recline, and to him 
 alone bequeath his last lingering look on 
 this world's miseries. The morning passed 
 melancholy on. The old man yet lived, 
 and Dejean could not forsake him. His 
 servants had fled, and one faithful shepherd 
 alone remained with his infirm and de- 
 crepid master, and gratitude impelled him 
 to acts of kindness, which feelings of self- 
 ish interest would never have induced. 
 
 But the suspense of Bianca was anti- 
 cipated by Dejean, and from sympathy 
 he suffered extremely; and to her he 
 
BIANCA. 41 
 
 forwarded a letter of inexpressible sweet- 
 ness by the shepherd of La Haye Sainte. 
 Night advanced. The shepherd did not 
 return. The weather became foggy. The 
 pale lamp in the chamber of death gra- 
 dually waned. The dying groans of the 
 old man, with dismal echo, sounded in 
 the ears of Dejean. The cannonading of 
 the English army, who were retreating 
 from Quatre Bras, filled him with horror, 
 and again and again he resolved to flee. 
 But he could not Respect for age and 
 infirmity, and for the ties of relationship, 
 united to feelings of pity and affection 
 for his uncle, spell-bound him to the cham- 
 ber of death. 
 
 At length he heard the loud knocking 
 of importunity at the outer door of the 
 dwelling; and the vivid flashes from the 
 
42 BIANCA. 
 
 cannon, announced an approaching army. 
 Dejean opened the door. A beautiful 
 girl appeared before him, distracted with 
 grief, and sinking with fatigue. " Receive 
 me, Oh ! receive me," she exclaimed, as 
 the door turned reluctantly on its hinges. 
 She could say no more. Into the arms of 
 Dejean she fell, unconscious who sup- 
 ported her, and ignorant of her situation. 
 He conveyed her to the solitary chamber 
 of his uncle; seated her on the ground; 
 hastened to his couch; smoothed his pillow; 
 wiped the death-sweat from his forehead ; 
 and then turned to the unfortunate female, 
 who claimed his compassion. From her 
 state of insensibility she recovered. Dejean 
 explained to her all that was necessary; 
 and, in broken accents of inconsolable an- 
 guish, she apprised him, that she was a 
 native of Planchenoit — that the French 
 
BIANCA. 43 
 
 army had that evening arrived before it — 
 that her parents were taken prisoners — 
 that she was their only child — and that in 
 her they centred their hopes and happi- 
 ness — that she had sought them in vain — 
 and that, as torrents of rain were descend- 
 ing, and as the soldiers became additionally 
 desperate, she resolved in La Haye 
 Sainte to seek a shelter for the night. 
 How sad was her reception! How direful 
 were the scenes she contemplated ! 
 
 The shepherd of La Haye Sainte, in 
 proceeding to Ohain, was detained by an 
 English brigade, who required him to 
 become their guide ; and the agitation of 
 poor Bianca had increased to an alarming 
 height, ere the communication reached her. 
 
 He entered her apartment as she was 
 agonized with grief over the lifeless corpse 
 
44 BIANCA. 
 
 of her beautiful Camillus. But for a 
 moment she ceased, fixed her eye sternly 
 on the shepherd, seized the letter, and 
 then perceiving once more the hand writing 
 of her beloved Dejean, with frantic plea- 
 sure she repeated and repeated, " Then 
 he is yet alive — ryes, yet alive !" 
 
 The seal was broken, and the letter 
 perused. Her eye could not glance over 
 the pages with haste sufficient to gratify her 
 anxiety. But all was well. She beheld 
 the signature of " her own Dejean," and 
 bathed it with her tears. She forgot, in 
 the moment of her ecstacy, that her uncle 
 was dying — that her babe was dead — and 
 that a ferocious and desolating army was 
 advancing to La Haye Sainte. But how 
 transitory was her satisfaction ! The shep- 
 herd communicated that the French had 
 advanced on Planchenoit, that he had 
 
B1ANCA. 45 
 
 been compelled to become the guide of 
 an English brigade to Ohain, and that he 
 was fearful La Haye Sainte would become 
 a scene of bloodshed. 
 
 Scarcely had these sounds reached her 
 ears, when martial music and the officers 
 of the brigade disturbed this peaceful 
 dwelling of wretchedness, only to light it 
 up with the worst of passions. 
 
 For a few moments Bianca was over- 
 come. Her mind rapidly ran round the 
 circle of her griefs with mournfulness, and 
 then she exclaimed, " What shall I do? 
 My Camillus is not — perhaps, my Dejean 
 is not — but that cannot be. My Dejean 
 dead! Oh, no, I cannot entertain the 
 thought ! I will fly to him ! But I have 
 not interred Camillus! What shall I — 
 
46 BIANCA. 
 
 what can I do?" An officer of the brigade 
 entered her apartment — listened to the sad 
 relation of her calamities; he could con- 
 verse in Italian; he advised her to flee to 
 La Haye Sainte, and advance rapidly with 
 Dejean to Brussels. The poor shepherd 
 offered to become her companion, and to 
 carry to the place of her destination the 
 lifeless corpse of her child. She hesitated 
 not one moment. A few articles of dress, 
 and her purse, she wound hastily round, 
 and left the village of Ohain. 
 
 It was at this moment that the tale 
 commenced. 
 
 The rain descended in torrents — she 
 was but thinly clad; and, by the light of 
 the distant bivouacs, she resembled the 
 fairy sprite, with magic touch, proceeding 
 
BIANCA. 47 
 
 onwards. They reached Papelote. An 
 Anglo-Belgian detachment was stationed 
 there, but they were unperceived. The 
 poor shepherd became exhausted — Bianca 
 advanced before him. The first corps of 
 the French Light Cavalry became obvious 
 to her; and, as she proceeded in her route, 
 she approached it nearer. The peasant 
 had somewhat lingered. Bianca paused, 
 that he might overtake her, but he came 
 not. She retraced her steps to Papelote, 
 but she could not discover him. She be- 
 came frantic. She sprang forward towards 
 the Anglo-Belgian detachment, and, ac- 
 costing a lieutenant, she wildly inquired 
 for the shepherd, and all that remained of 
 her Camillus. He understood her not, 
 but conducted her to the camp. A veteran 
 soldier, who had long fought the battles of 
 his country, became her interpreter. But 
 
48 BIANCA. 
 
 her researches were unattended with suc- 
 cess. She excited the interest of many; 
 and they, who were in a few hours to be 
 sacrificed on the altar of national ambition, 
 could not refuse to weep at the sorrows 
 of the wretched Bianca. At length the 
 morning dawned. La Haye Sainte she 
 perceived in a distance, and thither she 
 resolved to hasten, when she had for a 
 short time renewed her search for the 
 shepherd. 
 
 She wandered to Smouthen, but in vain. 
 She travelled in the road towards Planche- 
 noit, but in vain. She conversed with a 
 cuirassier, explained to him her misfor- 
 tunes, and from him she learnt that the 
 unfortunate peasant had been taken a 
 prisoner, by some scouts belonging to the 
 army of the French, and conveyed to 
 
B1ANCA. 49 
 
 Napoleon, but that the corpse of Camillus 
 he had not borne with him. She deter- 
 mined on proceeding yet nearer to Planche- 
 noit, and the cuirassier accompanied her. 
 She suddenly started. Her eye was fixed. 
 She perceived the vestment which en- 
 closed the corpse of her son. It was 
 covered with some reeds; and by no eye 
 but her's would it have been discovered. 
 She bathed the marble-cold face of her 
 infant with her tears — clasped it to her 
 bosom — vowed she would carry it to La 
 Haye Sainte — thanked the good cuirassier 
 for his attention — and, agonized in mind, 
 fatigued in body, reflecting on the past 
 with horror, and anticipating the future 
 with alarm, she crossed a common, which 
 divided the road she was then pursuing, 
 from that on which she was travelling on 
 the preceding night. With La Belle 
 
50 BIANGA. 
 
 Alliance in view, the French army before 
 her, and hostile troops of tens of thou- 
 sands surrounding her in every direction, 
 she seated herself by the side of a brook, 
 and placed the body of Camillus by her 
 side. The hour was nine. From the 
 French corps, commanded by Count D'Er- 
 lon, she was not absent many toises. Her 
 situation was direful. In a few short 
 hours, perhaps minutes, the grassy bank 
 on which she sat, would become the scene 
 of action, be bedewed with the blood of 
 many a hero ; and if she remained there, 
 herself, and the corpse of her babe, would 
 be mangled by the trampling of the cavalry. 
 She beheld La Haye Sainte — but how 
 could she reach it? And if she did attain 
 it — what then? Where would be her 
 Dejean? Her fears again aroused her, 
 and one more effort she determined to 
 
B1ANCA. 51 
 
 make: it was the effort of despair. She 
 gained the causeway from Charleroi to 
 Brussels. It was past ten o'clock. The 
 army was drawn up. A general silence 
 reigned. The sun had risen with splen- 
 dour, and the bright arms of the troops 
 glittered in his beams ; yet the scene was 
 distressing. 
 
 The high road was unoccupied. Bianca 
 hoped to proceed rapidly to La Haye 
 Sainte; but she was again disappointed. 
 She -had not proceeded many paces, when 
 she was captured by a battalion of the 2d 
 corps of the French army, and conveyed 
 to General Bachelu. Her situation be- 
 came intolerable. She sighed to exist no 
 longer; and if she could have been assured 
 that Dejean was not at La Haye Sainte, 
 she would have implored the general to 
 d2 
 
52 BIANCA. 
 
 terminate her being. But hope clings to 
 us to the last, and generally forsakes us 
 not, till sad experience breaks the magic 
 spell. 
 
 On the position and circumstances of 
 the army, he rapidly asked her many ques- 
 tions, but she could answer to only few of 
 them ; and he then directed her to leave 
 on the field the body of her infant, and to 
 fly towards Charleroi, ere it was too late 
 to preserve her being. " My being!" she 
 replied: "General, I do not regard it. 
 Without Dejean I will not, because I 
 cannot live; and I implore you, therefore, 
 to allow a distressed woman to pursue 
 her way." 
 
 He expostulated with her in a few words 
 — but it was to no effect. He besought her 
 
BIANCA. 53 
 
 to rush not with such impetuosity into the 
 arms of death — but they were words which 
 she could not regard. He consented; and 
 she again raising from the ground the body 
 of her boy, which was becoming foetid 
 and unhealthy, carried it in her arms, and 
 hastened to convey it to the place of her 
 destination. 
 
 But to return to Dejean, — We left him 
 with his expiring relative, and with an 
 unfortunate and distracted maiden. She 
 had scarcely finished the history of her 
 sorrows, when a loud trampling disturbed 
 the silence of the night. The faithful dog, 
 who guarded the entrance, announced the 
 arrival of unpleasant visitors, and seemed 
 to implore the presence and attention of 
 the inmates. Dejean proceeded to the 
 window, and he perceived that an English 
 
54 BIANCA. 
 
 brigade was already preparing to make the 
 farm of La Haye Sainte a scene of desola- 
 tion and rapine. He repeated to himself 
 the beautiful words of Fenelon, descrip- 
 tive of the horrors of war, and then 
 rushed to the court-yard. Dejean in- 
 treated that the farm might not be occu- 
 pied — explained the situation of himself 
 and his uncle — but his intreaties were 
 useless, his advice disregarded. 
 
 Exhausted by fatigue, they could advance 
 no further. As well might he have bade 
 the thunder- cloud alter its course, or 
 directed the lightning to flash not round 
 the dwelling, as to vary the once-formed 
 plans of hardy warriors. The sighs of the 
 widow, the intreaties of the orphan, and 
 the groans of general distress, so often die 
 upon their ears, that they cease to operate 
 
BIANCA. 55 
 
 on their hearts, and they become com- 
 paratively indifferent to the miseries which 
 surround them. War and despair are terms 
 which are nearly synonymous; and they 
 who brave the one, will be unaffected by 
 the other. He eagerly enquired if Ohain 
 was exempt from the incursions of the 
 army; they assured him it would not be 
 disturbed. The assurance pacified his soul, 
 and much allayed the fever of his anxieties. 
 Whilst his Bianca was secure, he could not 
 despair. He might be unhappy, but could 
 scarcely be wretched. Dejean returned 
 to the chamber of his uncle. He had 
 somewhat raised himself in the bed. His 
 eyes glared in the light which the dying 
 embers on the hearth emitted. They were 
 fixed on a soldier, who, fatigued with the 
 march, had contrived alone to enter this 
 abode of death. He had opened his wallet, 
 
56 BIANCA. 
 
 and between the watchfulness of a soldier, 
 and the drowsiness of tired nature, he 
 finished his repast. 
 
 The interesting girl, who had fled to 
 La Haye Sainte, had quitted that wretched 
 dwelling in the absence of Dejean, and 
 had gone forth, with the virtuous determi- 
 nation of returning to the place of her 
 birth, and the sepulchre of her fathers. She 
 wrote to that effect on a slip of paper, and 
 left it for Dejean. 
 
 How long was that night to him ! The 
 aged and dying inhabitant of La Haye 
 Sainte yet lingered upon earth, and Dejean 
 nursed him with the tenderness of filial 
 affection. But though his duty compelled 
 him to remain, his heart was at Ohain. 
 An overruling destiny seemed to prolong 
 
BIANCA. 57 
 
 his stay, but every moment became more 
 painful. The faithful shepherd had not 
 returned. No intelligence from Bianca 
 had he received. His Camillus — what 
 was his situation? Perhaps Ohain had 
 become, ere this, a scene of desolation ! 
 These, and thoughts yet more agonizing, 
 oppressed his heart, and deeply afflicted 
 him. 
 
 The rays of the sun again shone on the 
 farm of La Haye Sainte. The brigade 
 prepared for battle. They informed De- 
 jean that it would probably become the 
 scene of bloodshed. His soul sickened at 
 the thought, and for a few moments his 
 mind paused, to determine what line of 
 conduct he should pursue. He thought 
 of Bianca — of Ohain — of Camillus — of his 
 peaceful dwelling: and a flood of tears 
 
58 BIANCA. 
 
 alone expressed the joy and sorrow, the 
 hope and apprehension, which agitated his 
 feelings, and oppressed his heart. But 
 then he thought of an uncle, who had 
 watched over him in infancy, who had 
 loved him with the tenderest affection, 
 who had welcomed his return to the place 
 of his nativity as the brighest omen in his 
 long life. He thought of him now dying — 
 dragged from his couch by some fiend, in 
 human form, mangled with the cut of a 
 sabre, or wounded with the shots of an 
 enemy. In imagination, he saw him ex- 
 pire at the door of his dwelling — his eyes 
 start from their swollen sockets with 
 misery, calling for Dejean, who was not 
 there, and moaning at the contemplation 
 of ingratitude so unparalleled. His imagi- 
 nation could not even proceed further. 
 That was the climax of misery. His heart 
 
BIANCA. 59 
 
 sickened at such reflection, and he re- 
 solved to defend the chamber of his uncle- — 
 to wipe the death-sweat from his forehead 
 — to close his eyes — to inter his lifeless 
 corpse — and then to regain the absent 
 joys of Ohain. His determination satis- 
 fied his conscience, but it did not his heart. 
 But he allowed conscience to triumph, 
 though his heart continued to reproach him. 
 
 Dejean remained for some hours by the 
 side of his uncle, watching with affec- 
 tionate interest the last throes of dissolving 
 nature. At length, with inexpressible 
 satisfaction, the eyes of the old man were 
 fixed upon him — he heaved a deep sigh — 
 a big solitary tear rolled down his cheek — 
 and he was no more. 
 
 How solemn was that moment! Dejean 
 trembled. The withered hand of his uncle 
 
60 BIANCA. 
 
 he pressed to his heart, and offered up to 
 heaven a solemn prayer for the soul of the 
 departed. He was absorbed in his sorrows. 
 He thought not of danger, of slaughter, of 
 destruction, but only of him who was 
 gone for ever, and of the destiny which 
 awaited him. The clang of the loud 
 trumpet at length, however, aroused him. 
 He left the chamber, and a spectacle 
 presented itself to him, which froze up 
 his energies, and even destroyed his 
 hopes. But not a moment could be de- 
 layed. For his uncle he had -yet one 
 more office of affection to perform. It 
 was to inter him. But bow could he effect 
 it? Every soldier was at his post, and 
 none dare forsake it. A sepulchre there 
 was no time to prepare ; but to the cellar 
 of an outbuilding he resolved to convey 
 him. The body he wrapped round with 
 a few scattered clothes, and with great 
 
BIANCA. 61 
 
 difficulty succeeded in conveying it to the 
 spot which he had destined as its depo- 
 sitory. 
 
 As he descended to the damp and 
 gloomy apartment, his energies failed him. 
 He trembled, and fell. The cannonade 
 which had commenced at the Wood of 
 Hougoumont again roused him. He as- 
 cended. Danger was on every side. The 
 first corps of the French army was rapidly 
 advancing towards La Haye Sainte. It 
 was noon. Marshal Ney was preparing 
 to commence his attack on the farm — to 
 dispossess the brave highland soldiers — 
 and to occupy La Haye Sainte. Pale 
 and motionless, Dejean contemplated the 
 scene. Death seemed inevitable — flight 
 impossible. Alas! he thought, my situ- 
 ation resembles that of thousands — but 
 
62 BIANCA. 
 
 it is not the less terrific. Hope still, 
 however, did not forsake him. Kind and 
 faithful, she attended him when all were 
 deserters, and even when reason pro- 
 nounced her a liar. He resolved to proceed 
 through the army towards Ohain. 
 
 Bianca at this moment appeared in sight. 
 Summoning up her last energies, she 
 rushed forward towards the gateway. She 
 was repulsed. A cannonade commenced. 
 The attention of Dejean was arrested by 
 the appearance of a female, amidst such 
 scenes. He thought it was Bianca. De- 
 spairing and frantic, he wildly sprang 
 forward to rescue her. For a moment she 
 perceived him — but the next he had disap- 
 peared. What had become of him ? Alas ! 
 he was a corpse ! A ball had pierced his 
 heart, and he survived not one moment. 
 
BIANCA. 63 
 
 Who can describe the horrors of that 
 moment ? 
 
 Bianca discovered him. The remains 
 of her much-loved boy she cast on the 
 ground, by his side. 
 
 Her heart could beat no longer. Her 
 pale blue eyes ceased to behold the object 
 on which they gazed. Her tears refused 
 to flow. The laugh of madness closed the 
 scene, and the good and beauteous Bianca 
 expired. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
LONDON: 
 R. Clay, Printer, Bishopsgate. 
 
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