8E3 ' ' •>2 L I li R A R Y OF THL U N I VER5ITY or ILLINOIS B394.vf y.l Return this book on or before the Latest Daft stamped below. Univtrilty of IlUnoli Libriry L161 — H41 ^- WAND KU IXC S or CHILDE HAliOlDi:. A ROM ANCK OF Kil AL I.IFK. INTF.RSPl.RSI D WITH E3J0IU:> Of THE LSGL13U n'ltX. I'UE H>JiLI(;y Ml'itHF.Sii. AND VARIUL'S OTHER CLLEBKATKU rHAKACIERS. * BY JOHN HARMAX BEDFORD, LIEUT. K.X Author of Views oh the S/utres of the Black Sea, ,\f. The cold in clinic are colil in blood; Their love, it scarce deserves the name ; liut mine is like the lava flood, I hat boils in Etna's breast of flame. Lou u H v kon. IN THREE VOLUMES. vol.. i. LONDON: JONES \ 1825. J. C Ooodicr, Pnuier, Weil Strrei, Hackm- ''a' A FEW WORDS TO THE READER. The following ])ages are an attempt to de- lineate some striking particulars in the life of a Wanderer, I have, for reasons best known to myself, chose to call " Childk Harolde." That the person actually existed, is as true as that I have drawn this Romance from events in his life, which passed (many of them) in review before my own eyes. Every love story is found- ^ ed on a fact ; I am answerable for the em- L'. bellishments alone. I have not sprinkled the path with flowers, where thorns only grew ; 1 have not removed one cloud from the Wanderer's vices, or shorn his virtues of a single sunbeam. INlinc is almost a a 3 " round VI " roiiiul unvarnished talc," which lie '* that runs may read," ai]d comprehend with very little trouble : there is vcniety in it suflicient to occupy curious attention tor a few houis ; cnon^li ot* pleasure in it to (IcU^/it the young; and more moralitij than is generally to be found in romances. This 1 can safely assert, that there is not in it one line, or word, that can give pain to a feeliniue my characters are drawn from persons now living within our " ken," I cannot j^revcnt them dressing up figures to please their own fluicies — ccrtes, I have displayed neither heroes nor heroines, but those " every -day" persons we constantly jostle on our road tlirough life, and whose peculiarities pass unnoticed, because they aj)pear, to a transient view, so Vll so very common. The \\\anderer's in- trigues were mostly carried on in foreign lands — I have brought them home tor amusement. Reader, a perusal of this work, if tliou sittest down in a good hu- mour, will do thee no harm, and may do thee much ^''oorf, if thou regulate thy own conduct by the moral it conveys, that pcrjiianent happiness is only to be found in the practice of Virtue. White Cottage^ Camberwflf, NiTember 8, 1824. a4 CONTENTS. CHAP. I. The Castle of ChUdc H a roUl e.^Picixxn: of an unna- tural father Haroldc's education — death of his parents — his character at eighteen years of age- Family of farmer Stales — love for his daughter Mary— conduct towards her lover. — Stt/les expos- tulates with Haroldc, and forbids him his house. — fleeting with Mary in the Glen of Alders^- gives her his miniature — she leaves homc^, and places herself under Harolde's protection.— Coun- try slander. — Bad behaviour of Henry .V/^/ti— enlists for a soldier— obtains a commission.— Ha- rolde goes to London— 'relieves the embarrassments of Mary's father.— 3/ary's illness. — Harolde ar- rives in time to close her eyes— grief for his first love.^3fary's funeral and tomb Pofc 1 CHAT. CHAP. II. Visionary prosjiccts. — Wilful errors.— Renounces po- litics and the Court. — Harohles superior talents — selects Charles Freeman as a friend. — Introduction to Sir George Howell and Miss fVellbank^-hcr person and tlisposition. — A mushroom title. — Views of the baronet. — A first introduction to public life. — Extravagance. — Haroldc's afiection for INIiss WcUbaiik — c]uits London to avoid her company .^Scene on board a Dover packet. — Plans for travelling with Freeman. — Dialogue between a London milliner and Lady Soaplees.-—Harolde's indignation. — Good advice not always palatable. — Ludicrous scenes in landing at Calais — an upset in the mud. — Arrival in Paris — Schemes to pliick the pigeon. — Introduction to the Countess Bonvil- liers — ^her person, house, and character. — A revo- lutionary husband. — Harolde becomes an admirer of the Countess — his valuation of beauty. — Gaming. — Discovery at the Opera Coiniquc. — Count Danvers resolves to abandon the Countess. — Public reports. — Expected arrival Q#, General BonviUiers Page 37 CHAP. CHAP III. Love and jealousy. — A French coquette's bed-room. — A sudden illness. — Happy explanation. — Harolde more in love than ever. — A charade. — Stanzas on the Countess. — Loses ten thousand francs at the gaming-table — visit from a noble shaqier — reco- vers his money. — Arrival of General Bonvilliers at Paris. — Meets Sir George Howell on the Boule- vards. — News of Miss Wellhank. — Last inter\'iew with the Countess. — The two friends leave Paris. — Lines on Absence. — Crossing Mont St. Bernard. — Strange meeting with a Parisian Count-— mu- tual explanations. — Arrival at JMilan.— -HaroWe procures a commission for the Count. — Arrival at Rome. — Tlie IMarquis de Santo Frccre and his pro- tegee Signora ^^7? c^— description of that lady's per- son and accomplishments. — A musical party. — First impressions. — Designs of the Marchioness on Harolde's heart. — IMrs. Billington and Buonaparte. — Revengeful disposition of a lady — her illness.— Harolde's secret meetings with Agues — she elopes with %m. — Arrival at Naples. — Hill of St. Elmo. — Classical views. — Happiness. — Meeting with the the IMarqiiis dc Santo Frccrc — his meanness.— -A challenge — preparation. — Arrival of I ht rivers at the cottage. — A singular combat. — Terror of Ag- nes. — Harolde sails for the Isle of Caprea. .Pane 72 CHAP. IV. British fleet at anchor. — Ilaroldc entertained ])y Lord Nelson. — A salute. — Nclstm'?, frankness View between decks. — Grog. — Night. — IMoming. — The British Ambassador and Lady llamillon. — Very odd appearance of Sir WiUiam Hamillon — his fol- ly and indecency. — Great abilities of his lady — account of her person — her levity and masculine air.— i/flroWc's description of Lord Nelson A sporting monarch. — Notice of King Ferdinand. •^-'Nelsojis opinion of him and the heir apparent. —A sailor's ball. — Harolde half-seas over. — News of war. '"Harolde sails for Gibraltar — anchors and lands. — Sickness of Agnes. — Removal to Lisbon. — Abode at Cintra. — Tlie village pastor. — A sick officer. — Surjirise of Harolde in meeting Henry Styles. — Harolde's visit to General JVfoore.— A wish to be a soldier. — Singular letter from the Padre XUl Padre Josef. — Harolde jilted by Agnes, who marries Styles — sends them to the devil. — Em- barks at Oporto — lands at Ramsgate. — Parts with Freeman. — fleets Sir George Howell and iMiss Wellbauk on his way. — Retrograde movement.— Arrives in London. — IMarries IMiss Wellbank.-^ — Short joys. — Long brawls. — Lady Harolde's ill temper — Freeman a peacemaker. — Disappoint- ments of the Baronet. — IMade a butt of by Ha- 7'olde. — Sows discord betwixt man and wife.— Symptoms of jealousy. — Tunbridge Wells. — A meddling dowager. — Harolde patronizes the play- ers. — A high quarrel. — Suspicions of Harolde's continence. — Takes an actress into his carriage.-— A storm abroad and a storm at home. — Harolde returns to London alone. — Lady Harolde follows —discovers him with a lady in the library — quits his house with her daughter. — End of the romance of wedlock. — My native land, good night. — Ha- rolde resolves never again to see England. — '' Amor patrioe" — an adieu. — Voyage through the Bay of Biscay. — Leaves the packet near Cape Finisteire. — Arrives at the island of Elba. — Pur- chases a pleasure yacht. — Meets with a stranger — his WANDERINGS CHILDE HAROLDE. CHAP. I. " Who thinks a faultless character to see. Expects what never was, and ne'er can be." The Castle of Childe ifaro/c/e.— Picture of an unnatural father.— Harolde's education — death of his parents— his character at eighteen years of age. — Family of farmer S'tj/ies— love for his daughter Mary — conduct towards her lover. — Styles expostu- lates with Harolde, and forbids him his house. — Meeting with Mary in the Glen of Alders — gives her his miniature — she leaves home, and places herself under Harolde's protection. — Country slander. — Bad behaviour of Henry Styles — enlists for a soldier — obtains a commission. — Harolde goes to London — relieves the embarrassments of Mary's father. — Mary's illness. — Harolde arrives in time to close her eyes — grief for his first Love. — Mary's funeral and tomb. Vj PON a tremendous precipice, whose rugged base bids defiance to the waves of VOL. I. B the the Northern Ocean, in the Highlands of Scotland, stands, in majestic grandeur, the castle of the Haroldes. During the feudal times, when every Scottish thane was a petty sovereign, the lords of Harolde bore mighty sway over many a Highland hill, respected by their vassals, and feared by their enemies. The progress of civili- zation and refinement have gradually re- duced the power, and other causes the wealth, of this once princely house ; and all that now remains of what they once possessed, is the title of baron, the ancient castle, and adjacent lands, worth a few thousands per annum. No longer embosomed in woods, and surrounded by moats, bastions, and draw- bridges, the castle is plainly to be seen, overlooking an elegant modern town, where the sails of commerce are unfurled, and and art and industry follow their peaceful occupations, sufficient of the antique remaining to shew what this building was, when might overcame right, and arms de- cided every dispute, however trivial — and the lords of Harolde still retain a consi- derable portion of their ancestors* pride, and haughty demeanour. The father of the subject of this ro- mance was an eccentric and disagreeable character: he bore arms in his youth in defence of his country; but his arrogant and quarrelsome disposition compelled him to quit an occupation where the first duty is obedience, and he could bear no superior. Notwithstanding his intemperate conduct, he could assume an appearance of the mildest and conciliating kind, make his conversation agreeable to all, the fe- male sex in particular, and be a most fi- B 2 nished nislicd gentleman when he ])leased— that is, when it suited his interest to put on the mask of deception, which must liave sat painfully, on one whose impetuous temper brooked no control : his fine fi- gure, and "a tongue which could wheedle o'er the devil," won the affections of a young lady, daughter to a neighbouring peer, and with her hand he received a large fortune, which he soon dissipated in horseracing, cards, and every low pursuit. His cruelty to his wife was of the most brutish and savage nature, descending to abuse, and, when he could with security to liimself, to blows. One man, and that a humble menial in his family, could rule him ; this was the gardener ; he often in- terposed, and cooled him in his anger. Once he actually attempted to throw the lady into a pond near the castle, when the gardener 5 gardener inflicted upon him a just and a severe chastisement. Overawed by this poor man's virtue, he dared not to dis- charge him ; and he was known amongst the tenants by the honourable appellation of — the Peacemaker. The birth of a son did not give him any pleasure; the feel- ings of a parent were to him unknown ; his heart was callous to sensibility, and brutalized by the practice of degrading vices : this child he left entirely to a mo- ther's care; and for years he never even saw it, or inquired how it was bringing up. Such was the father of our hero — of Childe Harolde, for by that name his mo- ther loved to designate him, on account of an old ballad, which sung the praises of an ancestor, famous, under that title, for his wanderings, and his exploits in field and bower. B 3 The The Childe's mother educated him her- self till he was nine years of age, when he was sent to a public seminary, in the town near to Harolde Castle : it was kept by a man eminent for his erudition ; he was a philosopher and a poet ; and from him Chikle Harolde imbibed a taste for the Muvses, which, nurtured amongst the lofty mountains and deep forests of Caledonia, gave him that romantic turn, and threw over his mind that sombre hue, which embittered many of his days, and cast a shade of pensive melancholy over his brightest and most warm enjoyments. About the time he went to school, his father died ; and shortly after, his beloved mother resigned her gentle spirit into the hands of Him who gave it. So much at- tached was the Childe to his deceased mo- ther's memory, that he went by her maiden name name for several years, and was highly in- censed when called by that of his father, to whom he was indebted for nought but existence. Childe Harolde was famous, both in and out of school, for youthful qualifications ; he learned every thing apparently without an effort ; and in sports of an athletic na- ture, he bore away the palm from all com- petitors. His delight was to thread the mazes of the thick woods, scale the moun- tain tops in quest of the towering eagle's nest, and when tired with exercise, plunge into the stream that meandered through the valley, and lave his limbs for hours to- gether. His temper was irritable, but for- giving, and his generosity displayed itself to all his youthful friends who needed his assistance. His guardians removed him from a B 4 place place where he had learned all they could teach, to a place where " CJralefiil science still adores her Henri's liolj shade." There he remained several years, impro- ving in mind and person. Every vacation he resorted to the Highlands of Scotland, and cultivated the Muses, more for amuse- ment than any hope of fame. At the age of eighteen, he completed his studies, and bid farewell to Alma mater, retiring to the seat of his ancestors. His person at this period was accounted uncommonly handsome, his manners pre- possessing, and his figure above the mid- dle size, delicate, but elegantly formed ; his eyes were dark and piercing — his cheek bones prominent — his nose ratlier turned upwards — his lips large and blushing — and the glow of health which spread over his animated animated countenance, proclaimed that his exterior was emblematic of the noble mind within. Childe Harolde possessed much of the irritability of genius ; he was easily roused to anger, and difficult to be appeased ; in his loves and friendships warm and sincere — open in his hatred or contempt for the base and vile ; a lover of truth, he neither gave nor received flattery — a zealous advo- cate for man's independence, and an en- thusiastic admirer of liberty, he enter- tained a sovereign dislike to tyranny, and was beneficent and charitable even beyond what prudence would justify; he reve- renced old times and customs — had more of the pride of birth about him than he actu- ally knew himself— a friend to a limited mo- narchy, and a supporter of the laws. — His voice was melodious — he might be called Bo " silver- 10 ** silver-tongued," from the gentleness of its varied tones ; his conversation was ra- pid and brilliant, running from theme to theme, as if anxious to give utterance to a thousand ideas at once; he spoke with grammatical correctness, loved a pun, ho- noured a good jest, and was a convivial companion. As a set-off to these bright characters, there were many specks in his sun. Impatient of contradiction, he often took offence where none was intended, and gave offence very abruptly, heedless of the consequences — subject to violent fits of passion, which knew no bounds — " Not Thule's waves so fiercely break. To drown the northern shore — Not Etna's entrails louder shake Or Scythia's tempests roar." When he once entertained a prejudice, he seldom let it die within him — he either loved 11 loved or hated. Warm in his passions, they led him daily astray ; he looked upon illicit love as a very venial sin, and was in- temperate over his wine, though not a toper ; he was subject to intervals of sul- lenness, which came upon him like an in- termittent fever, making him morose and ill-tempered to every one; ardent in the pursuit of pleasure, he heeded neither re- ligion nor morality ; when once he gave the reins to gallantry, lavish of his purse, careless of his person — his mind mingled virtue and vice indiscriminately together; all his failings were tinctured with good qualities — all his virtues sullied by weakness ; in him, " the elements were so mingled," that he was good and evil^ unconscious of the change ; his mind, his heart, his soul, were steeped in the luxury B 6 of 12 of love, and in every action of his life, til at passion xvas pixdoviincmt. At the seat of his ancestors Childe Ha- rolde remained till he became of age. His taste led him to make no alterations in the castle. The exterior remained vener- able and in ruins, the turrets appeared trembling over head, and the basements mouldering to decay; the court before was naked and desolate, not decorated by a single tree, or fragrant by the perfume of a single flower; the walks were rank with weeds, and the walls, in some places, level with the ground. A modern poet has well described such a scene of dilapi- dation — " TIuuui;li Lliy battlements, Newstead, the hollow windb whistle, Thou hall of my fathers art gone to d'cay ; In thy desolate courts the rank hemlock and thistle Now choke up the rose that late bloo'u'd ih the way." In 13 In the neighbourhood of the castle stood a small farm-house, not belonging to the estates of Childe Harolde. The farmer was respected for his virtues more than his wealth ; and during the boyhood of the Childe, he spent much of his holiday- time with that family, which consisted of one son and two daughters. Youthful friendships are soon formed ; they value not distinction of rank ; pride is not known, and property considered of little importance. As the Childe advanced in years, he still continued his friendship to this family ; and when he refused to associate with his peers and otliers who courted his acquaintance, he spent whole evenings at the farmer's fireside. Farmer Styles was far from ignorant. He had in early youth been a seaman, and traversed every part of the JNIediterranean Sea: 14 Sea : the islands of Greece were familiar to him, and the descriptions he gave of their beauties of soil and climate, and their faded glories in architecture and sculpture, inspired Cliilde Harolde with a desire to visit them. His classic knowledge had made them familiar, and gave them an in- terest dear to the poet's soul. The con- versation of farmer Styles determined Childe Harolde to set out forthwitli for Greece ; but one thing yet induced him to linger, and that one thing was love. '* I'roiMastiiuitioii is tlic thief ot luue," and so is love, to find time for which, every thing else is sacrificed ; public, pri- vate duties, business, and too often honour and honesty, give way before the influence of this deity. Farmer Styles had a daughter, named Mary, 15 Mary, about the same age as Childe Ha- roldc. She had been !iis playmate, and the Childe's mother encouraged her to visit tlie castle, treating her as her son's companion, and permitting her to partake in his studies. From this cause, Mary was better informed than any of her neigh- bours, and acquired such good manners, that she was called " Miss" by all in the parish — some from ridicule, others as a deserved compliment. As children, the Childe and her were greatly attached to each other, and it " grew with their growth, and strengthened with their strength." The Childe's constant sum- mer visits from school to his native seat, when he kept ap the intimacy with far- mer Styles's family, prevented them from feeling any difference that age and fortune had made betwixt them. They continu- ed 16 ed to treat him with easy famiUarity ; and he looked upon the old man as a fa- ther, and his children as brother and sis- ters. Childe Harolde however had long felt that Mary was not his sister ; and pro- bably when they exchanged vows of truth together, he addressed her as in the ele- gant poem of The Bride of Abydos — " Zuleika, I am not thy brother." Mary Styles was tall and elegantly shaped ; her bust was unornamented beau- ty ; she was a goddess of the hills; the freshness of the rose, and the chastened softness of the lily, gave lustre to her cheek; her eyes were blue and sparkling — her teeth like rows of pearl in a bed of coral ; her hair alone was not what we call plea- sing. " Golden locks" were once admired in Scotland, and why not so still ? — Fancy dictates 17 dictates to a lover's breast. Mary felt not that her hair was of an unfashionable co- lour, and her lover thought it waved as luxuriantly over her fine-falling shoulders, and wantoned on her ivory neck, as if it were of the auburn's glossy hue. First love is always imprudent — but, at the time, generally sincere. What the in- tentions of Childe Harolde with respect to Mary might have originally been, must be guessed at. They made love to each other long before they spoke upon the subject, and each had lost a heart before they were sensible they had one to lose. The farmer had long observed with pain their mutual attachment, and often resolved to open his lips on the subject : he could not bring himself to the cruel ne- cessity, of dismissing from his threshold the man he had dandled on his knee when a child, 18 a child, and wliom he loved almost as dearly as his own offspring : moreover, he felt now honoured by the condescension of the lord of the castle, who paid him the same deference he had done, before either titles or wealth were in his possession. He had also a firm reliance on his princi- ples of honour, and his daughter's virtue he confided in, as a shield which would efi- fectually guard her against infamy. Not so old Mrs. Styles; she was eter- nally warning Mary of her danger, and throwing out hints to Childe Harold, he affected not to believe applied to him. " In gude faith," she would say, " Mary, the lord is but a daft chiel at times, and wi' five thousand a-year, he'll no stoop to mak ye a leddy, and yere too gude to be his harlot." The farmer impatiently looked for the time 19 time when Harolde would go to London, and thence on his travels : he was often sulky, and reproached himself for enter- taining suspicions he believed were ground- less. There was a young farmer on the castle estate much attached to Mary, and offered to marry her without a portion ; but she turned a deaf ear to all his professions ; and farmer Styles was too good a parent to endeavour to force his daughter's incli- nations ; in fact, where the heart was con- cerned, and the happiness of a whole life depended, he deemed it a crime even to try persuasion. Harolde, it was observed by many, bore no good- will to this young farmer ; he even refused him a lease of his land, and by so doing, corrj|)elled him to remove to a dis- tance. This conduct sprung from his known 20 known penchant for Mary Styles, and it cannot be justified : it is true, Harolde had a right to do with his own property as he pleased ; but to turn out a good te- nant, without assigning any cause, natu- rally created inquiry amongst neighbours. The farmer in bitter terms spoke of his harsh treatment, and scrupled not to at- tribute it to Harolde's designs upon the woman he had offered to make his wife ; and slander, which in country places soon spreads wide its venom, very soon set down Mary and Harolde as guilty creatures, before they had even exchanged a single kiss. The farmer now, especially when he saw no intention on Harolde's part to take his departure, became hurt and alarmed. The reputation of his daughter was assail- ed ; he had become a subject for whispers as 21 as he passed along; and determined to speak to Harolde the first time he came to his house. The mother had read Mary a lecture to little effect. Mary was a thoughtless, giddy girl; she was never seen except in smiles; it was impossible to make her serious ; and whilst her friends enjoyed health and happiness, she was happy also, and kept care a day's march behind her. The farmer spoke so sensibly to Ha- rolde, that he acquiesced in his desire, not to visit his humble roof so frequently : he vindicated his own and JNlary's character from vile insinuations ; and to the farmer's request, that he would not meet, or speak, to Mary, any where but in his presence, he gave a flat refusal. This, and the dis- missal of the young farmer from the es- tate, raised an unfavourable impression, for 28 for the first time, in the farmer's mind, against his young and noble friend, and he bluntly forbade him tiie house. Harolde smiled, took his hat, and re- tired : on his way home, he met Mary and some others ; he called her to him, and in a few words, desired her to meet him, after sunset, in the Glen of Alders. She pro- mised to do so ; and returning to her com- panions, remarked, that she never saw Harolde so much agitated and out of hu- mour. Farmer Styles, after Harolde had closed the door, rose and paced the room with no enviable feelings: he had parted from a friend, with whom he could be on friendly terms no more. He felt as if he had lost one of his own family, and that he had been doing an act of cruel injustice. Had he taken this decisive step years before, when 3S when Harolde assumed his title, and be- came lord of the castle, he had done wise- ly ; but it was now too late, and he was only hastening an evil he was endeavour- ing to avert. Unfortunately, his wife just then entered, and highly commended his conduct. JNlary followed close at her heels, and received a severe injunction ne- ver again to speak to Harolde. She burst into tears, and thus was left by her pa- rents. A friendship, begun in infancy, and con tinned to maturity, is not to be broken by a single command; and Mary was of such a kind disposition, this command appeared to her most horrible. " As calm nnd gentle as the dove. As free fVora guile and art, And mild and soft as infant love, The passions of her heart." She 24 ' She could not be cruel, and felt it was no sin to disobey her father's stern mandate. She resolved to meet the friend and com- panion of her youth at the Glen of Al- ders that evening. The sun set majesti- cally over the Highland hills — not a breath of wind stirred the leaves of the blossomed hawthorn — the river glided without a murmur over its pebbled bed — the black- bird's clear whistle sounded from the thicket, and the evening song of the lark descended from the sky in the most plea- sing cadences — the time was formed for love — " Soft as the balmy breath of morn, And gentler than an infant's sigh ; Mild as the hour when Hope was born, And Love descended from the sky." For the first time in her days, Mary had recourse to deceit: she had told a falsehood 25 falsehood to her mother, as an excuse to meet Harolde : this was one step towards her ruin. " Sincerity, thou first of virtues, Let no one forsake thy honoured path, Though hell should gape, and from its yawning centre, Threaten destruction." Mary reached the Glen of Alders, trembling and agitated beyond what she had ever felt before. She had never dreaded meeting Harolde, and why she now fancied she was doing an improper act, she could not tell : her intentions were pure ; and when Harolde approached, and taking her hand, placed her vvm within his, she dared not look up in his face, and in stepping out, a sudden faintness over- came her, and she would have sunk to the ground, had he not supported her to a daisy-sprinkled seat, where they had often VOL. 1. c reposed 26 reposed in their infantine days. He laid her head on his left shoulder, and kissing her pale lips, whispered — " Mary, my ever dear Mary, be eoniposed, and all will be well." An idea of future ill now rushed across her mind, as she recovered herself, and passing her hand over her forehead, she exclaimed — " Harolde, my brain is burning ; I fear I do wrong in coming here ; for my parents ordered mc never to see you again." " And I," said Harolde, " am forbidden your house; but I love you, Mary, to distraction, and will make you happy, in spite of fate !" He soothed the poor girl into peace; she confessed that she loved him above all the world. He gave her a small box, in which was a concealed miniature of him- self, and took in exchange a lock of her hair. 27 hair. They parted, with promises to meet again in the same place. Harolde returned to the castle, pleased but not sa- tisfied with himself. Mary was sorrow- ful, but inwardly delighted with the as- surance of Harolde's love ; and in a few weeks her parents, judging from her tran- quillity, imagined she had ceased to think of Harolde with regret. In the adjacent town there were two newspapers published : copies of verses appeared in them at times, addressed — " To Mary." The public knew the au- thor. In the vicinity of the castle, every one applied them to Mary Styles, and she, flattered by the distinction, foolishly boasted in the circle of her acquaintances, that she was the heroine of Harolde's muse. This was enough to ruin her cha- racter, with people less scrupulous than c 2 High^ Highlanders on all points concerning female chastity; and she suddenly found herself dis- carded by her juvenile friends, sneered at by the old, aiid continually reproaclicd at home by her parents, for crimes of which she was innocent. She poured her complaints into her lover's bosom ; their meetings be- came more frequent; and eventually Mary became that which every one had long supposed her to be. The intrigue was carried on with so much secrecy, that her parents remained ignorant of the worst, until an accident developed the truth. She left the box which Harolde had given her by mistake in the parlour, when her sister handling it, let it fall; the spring burst, and shewed the miniature, with a letter in Harolde's writing. She returned when her parents were busied in reading it ; she saw the extent 29 extent of her misery, and snatcliing the box and the letter out of their hands, crushed them into her bosom, and rushed from the house, no more to ,return. The feelings of the family were acute, and their dishonour sealed. Mary hast- ened to the glen, where she disclosed to Harolde the catastrophe which had for ever excluded her from her father's door. He placed her with one of his tenants, on a mountain farm, and fitted up part of the house, where he passed most of his time in her society. The old saying, " that it never rains but it pours," was exemplified in this instance. Harolde was censured as Mary's seducer, though se- duction had not any thing to do with the case — it was a mutual sacrifice on the altar of love. Nay, it was industriously circu- lated, that Harolde had his hands full of c 3 similar 30 similar intrigues— that he debauched every one lie could, and gloried in his infamy — his conduct was thoughtless — he kept an open house, , and his companions were young men of dissolute characters, who brought with them from London all the fashionable vices of the age. He disdain- ed, either by adopting an opposite line of behaviour, or by words, to justify himself from these malignant accusations : the stream gathered strength as it rolled along, and his good name was swept away by the torrent : — " Cold damning envy, ^^ilh her poisonous breath, Taints the pure surface of an honest fame ; And active calumny, more dread than death, Stamps sickening virtue with the blush of shame." About this time, young Henry Styles, from being a sober, industrious man, ne- glected his business, frequented public houses, 31 houses, and almost wholly absented him- self from his parents' dwelling. This arose from an impure connexion he had formed with a woman of infamous cha- racter ; but people attributed it to the se- duction of his sister; though the truth was, he had quarrelled with, and not spoken to her for a twelvemonth previous to her falling. He enlisted for a soldier, and Harolde, who had his welfare at heart, procured him a commission ; and he em- barked for the Continent, where he dis- tinguished himself so as to gain rapid pro- motion. Mary never mentioned marriage to her lover, from a dread of losing him, and he, though ardent and affectionate, gave her no room to suppose she would ever be his wife. A year passed by, with no altera- tion in the circumstances of either, when c 4 he 32 lie was suddenly called to London, leaving Jier at the mountain tarni. Mary had begun to recover the esteem of those around her. Harolde allowed her plenty of money, and her charities, judiciously bestowed, were extensive; even tlie pride of her ])arents was hum- bled, from necessity and self-interest. Farmer Styles was old, and in the ab- sence of his son, obliged to trust the ma- nagement of his concerns to strangers' hands : he was cheated, and on the verge of bankruptcy, when it came to Mary's knowledge. She wTote to Harolde in London, who remitted her a sum of mo- ney large enough to clear all her father's embarrassments, and enable him to hold his head higher than those who had ex- ulted in the prospect of his ruin. He was reconciled to his daughter ; but she never could 9$ could be persuaded to enter a house from whence Harolde and lierself had been driven. Harolde had been absent three months, when he received a letter in a strange hand ; he kept it by him for half a day, dreading to open it, and at last, summon- ing resolution, he broke the seal. It was from tlie farmer in the mountains, ac- quainting him that Mary had been seized with a typhus fever, and her life was con- sidered in imminent danger. Forgetting all business, as of minor consideration, he ordered a travelling chaise and four, and journeying night and day, soon arrived at Castle Harolde. He flew up the moun- tain, and found all his anticipations short of the fact : bereft of her senses, raving, and calling on his name, he found the woman his soul adored stretched on the c 5 last 34 last bed of human wo. He would ac- cept of no consolation — lie would not un- dress — but sat at her bedside, or paced the room in silent angnisli, for tln*ee days : on the fourth, as he was moistening her parched lips, slie opened lier eyes ; fixing them on him with an expression of dying tenderness, she faintly uttered — " Are you here, my Lord ? now 1 shall die hap- py." She pressed his hand to her burning lips ; it was the last motion of life, and in the act of kissing it, she expired. Harolde knelt down by the bedside, as if in prayer. After a f^ew minutes had elapsed, he rose with a tranquillized mien, took a last look, and a last kiss of his first love, and hurried away to the castle. He was closeted with his steward for several hours, and after a slight refreshment, without having laid down or slept for three 35 three days, he threw himself into his car- riage, and left the seat of his forefathers, to which he >yas destined never more to return. Mary was interred in the village chin'ch- yard, few but her family attending. Tlie solemn ceremony was performed at mid- night, that none might gaze upon her when dead, whom they had slandered so basely when living. By Harolde's di- rection, every poor person in the parish had a suit of decent mourning and a gui- nea; and three of her female friends, who adhered to her under every vicissitude, received fifty pounds each and a ring. These, with the exception of her parents, were the only real mourners that accom- panied the remains of beauty to the grave — c 6 "The ' 36 '* The toinl), the consecrated domet 1 he liniple rai'i'd to jicacc ; The port that to its frientWy hoine Compels the human race." A simple stone, under a spreading elm, merely records her name and age, but Ikt memory will long live in the recollection of those her benevolence rendered happy. When the earth had covered her, then calumny ceased to operate, and justice was done to her virtues, even by her greatest enemies; and the farmer, whose addresses she liad rejected, came to shed a tributary tear on the green turf, and bid it lay- lightly on her head. Ilarolde heard of this, and put him into the best farm on his estate. •* Wlien age and infinnity sinks to the tomb, The mind is prepared by the gradual decay ; But when beauty's cut off in life's opening bloom, We mourn thut it passes so quickly away." CHAP. vt ( IIAI'. II. Willi thif, swtvt HoiH', ri-M'lrt the heavctily light That jK)ur» rcui<»u-st raptuir on the sight : Thine ar«f the chaniis oi" liK\ UwildirM v*ay , That odls each slumbering )VLn intn play. (amprslv \'isioiiarv prus[)fcts. — Wilful orrors. — Renounces politics unpera Comiijue. — Count Danveit resolves to abandon the Countess. — Public reports. — Expected arrival of Cieneral Bfrnvillien. Harolde did not seclude himself I'roni the world on account of liis heavy loss, but sought 38 souglit in society a relief from the cares of his bosom. His grief was sincere, but his youth and buoyant spirits prevented it from being lasting. Hope beckoned him, and he did not despair of future happiness, because the present had been blighted in the bud, and the spring morn- ing of joy overshadowed by clouds. There was an elasticity of disposition in Childe Harolde, which kept his fancy bounding on, always in hope of some distant plea- sure, which failed to give satisfaction when within his grasp : he was ever in pursuit of some ideal vision ; when it glided away and left him disappointed, he turned with additional stimulus to some other prospect more cheering, but equally unstable. He could well have applied the poet's lines to himself — Let 89 *• Let the bright vision dnnce before mine eyes; Though tliise the prospect, Hope it will inspire; Hope ne'er fulfiUM, till soars above yon skies Thar soul which prompts my hand to string the lyre." Harolde was now in London, the cen- tre of gaiety, luxury, and love ; his for- tune ample, and his spirits equal to all the enjoyments of life. He took up his abode at a fashionable hotel near Bond- street, and entered into all the dissipa- tions his youth, rank, and connexions, laid him open to. He often said, when reproaching himself for extravagant deeds, that he voluntarily sinned with his eyes open, and deserved to suffer for his follies. Having taken his seat in the Upper House, and kissed hands on com- ing to his title, he at once bid adieu to the court and the senate. No induce- ment could tempt him to venture amongst the 40 the quicksands of politics, though every way fitted to make a shining figure : his understanding was strong ; his knowledge of history and the laws, the constitution and state, profound; his eloquence bril- liant and flowery, but still it contained truth and reason, highly embellished by a vigorous fancy. These qualifications were all lost to him and to his country ; he had sworn never to be a politician, and having once risen from his seat, he never occupied it again. The etiquette of a court galled him; he would not be fet- tered by ridiculous forms ; the insipidity of a levee, where men, and men only, came to see and be seen, he despised. The formality of a drawing-room, where women were stiffened out in silks and lace, like so many automatoms for show, lie thought a great deviation from nature, and 41 and would not degrade himself by jostling through it, in danger ot" suffocation. Free- dom of cnjoynicnt lie delighted in. ** A bottle and a friend/' bachelor's fare, • bread and cheese and kisses," for a time, made up the suvivmvi bonum of his wishes. He became an author from choice, and wrote and published works not infe- rior to any writer of his day ; those who were acquainted with his habits, were at a loss to guess where he found leisure for such serious occupations. The truth is, he had no leisure ; his mind was ever busy, and whatever he took in hand, se- rious or playful, he could execute without a single effort. Genius was seated in his brain, and knowledge flowed from his fingers' ends. Amongst his many acquaintances, he selected one for a friend, of a disposition the 48 llie reverse of his own — the rose and tlic thistle were not more difierent. This younfr man, the second son of a courtly baronet, had but then escaped from the trammels of a college life. He was a b(X)kworm of a grave deportment ; not tainted by any vices, undistinguished by any superior virtues, deeply versed in classic lore, .ind in every thing which may be termed a well-read gentlcinan. He loved a social glass, could spend an evening in agree- able trifling at the theatre or an assembly, but never rushed into extremes, and was as a Mentor to Harolde, though in years they were nearly equal. Such was Charles Freeman, the chosen friend of Childe Harolde, with whom he spent all his serious hours, and many of his jocund nights. Freeman endeavoured to draw him from the dissolute company that 43 that had enthral led him, and lor that pur- pose, introduced him to those domestic cir- cles, whore rational supercedes licentious enjoyments. The change had some effect. At the house of Sir George Howell they always met select company. The niece of the baronet, a young lady with a fortune of ten thousand pounds per annum, was expected from the North, to make her debut on the stage of fashionable levity. Her beauty and accomplishments were highly spoken of by those who had seen her at an assize ball or a country race. All the old tabbies were prepared to pull her to pieces, and dissect her inch by inch ; the young people of her own sex, ready to envy her, and decry both her fortune and person; and the bucks of the other, re- solved to admire what at least had the merit of weighing ten thousand pounds, in a ba- lance 44 lancc annually. Freeman was ever ring- ing her praises in Harolde's ears, who often expressed an anxiety to see her. At length the lady came, and the two friends were invited to meet her at a party en famille. Harolde was introduced to lier by Sir George; Freeman eyed him attentively, but could not perceive, by any look or change of features, that she had made the least impression upon him, although Ha- rolde was quick at catching early impres- sions ; and it was very seldom, if he did not distinguish any one particularly at a first interview, that he sought a second with them. The party broke up early in the even- ing, and the friends, over a bottle at Long's, discussed the merits of the now arrival. Harolde declared, that he thou(/:ht her to- lerably pretty, quite unaffected, sensible in 45 in her conversation, but — " I doubt," said he, " from a certain expression of coun- tenance, when her uncle once or twice took the hberty of contradicting her, that she has not a very good temper." Free- man was not a disciple of Lavater — very httle read in the Hues of female beauty, so he bowed in silence to his friend's opinion. Next day Flarolde, on returning from the morning call, had a better opinion of MissWellbank, and every day he found out something fresh to admire. From going to Sir George Howell's willingly when in- vited, he soon began to invite himself, and Sir George gladly received him, for he had all along wished for a union betwixt his niece and Harolde. Sir George had been a city merchant, and was still engaged in a firm that trans- acted money matters. His title was re- cent, 46 cent, and a tribute paid to his wealth and j)arlianientary influence, for he had two borou<^hs at command, and supported mi- nisters tlirough tliick and thin without scruple. His family were not able to trace their genealogy up to a great-great-grand- father — that of his niece, by her mother's side, was ancient, and the seat of the Well- banks in Northumberland vied in point of antiquity with the dukes of that county, to whom they were related. Sir George Howell sighed for a coimexion which would give importance to his family, and the title of baroness was the least he hoped to obtain for his niece. Her inclinations he never thought of; he considered matri- mony as a matter of money business, and imagined that any one might be happy with rank and wealth in their possession. The young lady was ambitious of title, but 47 but would not force lior inclinations to ob- tain it. She entertained a high opinion of the power of her charms, and her for- tune gave her more pride than became her. She had a heart, but not a very tender one ; she loved flattery, and believed it, because she thought it her due; and look- ed for the subservience of a slave in the assiduities of a lover. Miss Wellbank did not make that impression on the town her friends expected. She was ushered into the drawing-room blazing in jewels ; her reception was marked ; and next day the Morning Post devoted half a column to describe her robes and fair person. Here the eclat ended. Wanting wit and impu- dence to push her face at public places, she merged into the multitude of young heiresses, who are inquired after more on account of their fortunes than accomplish- ments, 48 nients, and became a toast at the Guards* club-room and pic-nic dinners of St. James's-street, where the in(|uiry after a new appearance is, not " what is she like in person?" but " what does she weigh in purse?" Harolde, I have before mentioned, had a large share of family pride, and his at- tentions to Miss Wellbank were so point- ed, that they became a subject for talk at the tea-tables of the west. People of his own rank jeered him on his queer 2)e7icha?it for the merchant's niece, and, wdth his usual fickleness, he resolved to " cut" be- fore it was too late. He had made no de- claration of his sentiments, though it was expected, and would have been well re- ceived ; and a little time to travel and con- sider, before he took so important a step, he deemed absolutely necessary. Harolde had 49 had likewise another reason for travelhng. His expences had long far exceeded his income, and he was too honourable and proud, to think of marriage for the base purpose of clearing his estates from debts a little retrenchment would enable him to liquidate. He proposed to Freeman to accompany him on his travels, to which he agreed with some astonishment, for he fully ex- pected a marriage almost instanter betwixt his friend and Miss Wellbank. Without questioning his motives, Freeman prepared for his departure. Harolde discharged all his English servants ; and without going to bid adieu to Sir George Howell and family, set out for Dover in a postchaise with Freeman. The astonishment of the Howell s when they learnt the cause of Harolde's absence, VOL. 1. D was 50 was inconceivable. Sir George cursed his oversiolit, in not offering I larolde a supply of cash to pay his debts, for these he thought had driven him abroad, Freennan having hinted as much in a letter from Canter- bury, apologizing for not having called to bid farewell. Sir George, who took a mechanical view of every thing, again doubted that debt could force a man from home who had it in his power, by merely marrying, to make himself independent at the expencc of his wife's fortune. Sir George had no feeling but one, in which wealth and title were comprised ; his soul was fettered down to the corrupt pillar of self-interest and false pride. He sent for his niece, and scolded over the conduct of the runaway lover, finally advising her to think of him no more, and he would look out 51 out for another, of llimily and title equally noble, to make Iier happy. Miss Wellbank was not heartless; she had been flattered into a belief that Ha- rolde really loved her, and felt obliged to him for his favourable opinions. She would have married him, and, if possible, made him a good wife ; she now felt hurt and disappointed. The condolence of officious friends on these occasions is unbearable. Miss Well- bank determined to shun all this, and made her exit from the twiy as quietly as her quondam lover had done. Sir George dared not oppose her wishes, for she was nearly of age, and he had seen enough of her spirit, to put him in fear of her marry- ing without his consent, and losing him the honour of being allied to nobility. She retired to her uncle's seat at Wind- D 2 sor ; 52 sor ; and having been always brouglit up in tlic country, it was really a ])leasure to licr, losing sight of London smoke, noise, and dissipation. In the scandalous chro- nicle, it was reported the lady had need of temporary retirement ; and the most fa- vourable construction put upon her retreat was, that she had been jilted, and carried from town a mortified spirit and humbled pride. Had Miss Wellbank chosen to re- main in town, and braved it out, she would have ensured a triumph, and Ha- rolde would have been set down as the re- jected lover. JNIiss Wellbank was not sufficiently versed in public intrigues for this sort of " get off," and moreover her lieart was a little touched, which she had not art to disguise from the discrimi- nation of her own assuming sex, who, to gratify spleen, pretend that glass is not transparent. 53 transparent, and yet affect to see through a deal board. Harolde was so lost in thought, that he did not exchange twenty words with his friend before they arrived at Dover, where the noise and bustle on the quays roused his energies into action ; he laughed and enjoyed the scene; no one could other- wise, except he who is suffering from the impertinence of those around him : no sooner does a packet run alongside of the pier, than she is assailed by tide-waiters, blockade men, porters, servants, barbers, and landlords, all anxious for a share of the prey. Cards of the Ship Inn, York Hotel, (Sec. are thrust into the pas- senger's hands, as he lands ; his luggage seized upon vi et armis, by custom-house officers, and his person hurried away, to be searched for contraband goods. They D 3 do 54 do not, as Sterne has it, " Order these matters better in France," but worse ; you are literally baited to death at Calais; it is in vain to contend — for the porters are females, whose cla))pers astound the ears, and whom you can neither threaten nor chastise into better behaviour. Resolved to avoid every thing English, as much as possible, Harolde chose to sail in a French packet ; he was going abroad, not to associate with his own countrymen, but to view society and manners different from what he left behind — to acquire a knowledge of foreign countries, more ac- curately to judge of the blessings in his own. For these reasons he proposed ma- king foreigners his associates, and having as little as possible to do with those Bri- tish coxcombs, who travel for the name of having done so; and might know as much by 56 by sitting in a chimney corner, near AVat- ling-strect, as they glean by pacing the Boulevards, and gorging at Very's, with animals of their own breed and complexion. Harolde wished not to return a " mon- key that had seen the world," but some- thing superior if he could. The master of the packet was a French seaman of the old school, with whose profession the man- ners of a gentleman are not incompatible. Amongst the passengers, were a little English milliner from Bond-street, going to Paris to return with the latest fashions, and the wife of a Spitalfields soap-boiler. The milliner was engaged in giving her fat companion an entertaining history of all the scandal of the west, in return for which, she ever and anon plied her with the contents of her liqueur case, in order to keep away sea-sickness. As Harolde D 4 rested rested upon a sofa, he listened to the fol- lowing edifying conversation. Lady Soaplccs. — Veil, I declare. Miss, you hinterteens me wastly. I never goed vest of Temple-bar, except that time my husband vent to count the hobnails at Vestminster Hall to the judges ; for you must know, Sir Simon Soaplees has been alderman, sheriff, lord mayor, and speaker in the Bible Society, many's the time and oft. My daughter is in Parish, finishing her hedication, and I'm going to bring her home, and have her married to a lord. Milliner. — Lord, mem ! talking of a lord, puts me in mind of Lord Harolde — you have heard of him, my lady, he writes so well and so fine, and all that — what do you think he's done ? Lady Soaplees. — No harm, 1 hope, for I likes his werses much. Milliner, — 67 Milliner. — Why he's run his country, my Lady. He was going to be married to Miss Wellbank, the rich north country lieircss. The house was taken, and splen- didly furnished, the equipage launched, the ring provided, and the Bishop of Dur- ham bespoke to perform the ceremony; when, all of a sudden. Lord Harolde goes to Sir George Howeirs, seizes him by the collar, calls him a rogue, and his niece no better, my Lady, than she should be, flings the marriage articles on the table, and bouncing out of the house, sets off for Italy that very day. Lady Soaplees.-— -That vas wery strange indeed, ma'am. Milliner, — Oh ! not so strange neither, when you know the reason ; it seems the lady had been brought up amongst grooms and scullions, and was partial to their so- D 5 ciety; 58 ciety ; and the coachman, Robin Raw- bones, was a rival of my Ix)rd : he got scent of this low intrigue, and actually caught them in a hayloft together. *Tis true, pon honour — my own sister made up the wedding clothes, and may be, may make up the baby linen. Ever}' one thought the lady was growing fat — but she will soon be lean again ; she is gone to the country with a nurse — a child's nurse, my Lady, I mean. The family are all horrified, and Mr. Charles Freeman, Sir George Howell's second cousin, is gone after Lord Harolde, to blow his brains out ; but the stain on the family honour nothing can ever blow away. Harolde nearly lost all patience at this impertinent string of lies, and starting from the sofa, hurried on deck, and joined his friend Freeman, to whom he imparted what 59 what he had heard. Freeman only smiled, and said he doubted not but there were fifty such tales in circulation by that time — " 'Tis but now," said he, " that I heard those two officers giving a different ver- sion of the story, viz. — * That Sir George had discovered you were over head and ears in debt, and had mortgaged your estate to the last acre ; and the lady had certain information you had seduced a young lady in Scotland, and abandoned her, when in despair she took poison and died." Harolde felt a little sore upon this — his Mary rushed upon his recollection, and he bitterly execrated the scandal of London. *' It is the same every where," returned Freeman — " in Paris, Rome, or Naples, mark me, wherever you go, you will furnish food for calumny to prey upon : D 6 your 60 your open, headlong temper — your devo- tion to the fair sex, expose you more than any one I know : you must eitlier totally give up your present mode of life, or make up your mind to be abused and belied by all the scandal-mongers in Europe." To alter his way of life on a sudden, Harolde knew to be impossible ; but in a fit of honourable retribution, he almost determined to return to London, throw himself at Miss Wellbank's feet, and so- licit her pardon and her hand. The dread of being refused prevented his taking this step ; and the gossip of city dames and milliners he thought unlikely to reach her ears. He summoned his philosophy to his aid — promised Freeman to go laugh- ing to Paris — and as he said " Adieu, adieu, my native land Fades o'er the waters blue/' he 61 he filled a bumper, and pledging his friend, exclaimed — " Here's a health to our noble selves, as citizens of the world." It was low tide when the packet arrived off Calais harbour ; and at such times, you must either submit to be carried on the shoulders of women, a full half mile through mud, or wait patiently on board till high water. Harolde sat down to wait for a more favourable time to land, and enjoyed the strange scene of disembarka- tion. The two officers, in full dress of the grenadier guards, mounted guard across two womens shoulders; and with the loss only of their caps, reached land in safety. Not so fortunate the citizen's wife and the milHner ; the latter descend- ed upon the arm of a very fat fish-fag — the former upon a diminutive creature's shoulders, who had more spirit than strength. 68 strength. Immediately upon quitting the packet's sides, tlie little woman reeled under her burden of Soaplees, which fell against the little milliner, and at once dislodged her from the back of her brawny bearer. All four came down in the mud; the lady, broadside on, caused the dirt to fly up, as if a whale were spouting in the agonies of death. The milliner's form was directly reversed, her heels being in the air, and her head out of sight in the mud. They were raked on board again with difficulty ; when Harolde could not help sarcastically observing to the milliner — " That it was a pity she had not Robin Rawbones, Sir George Howell's coach- man, to carry her safe, and some of the wedding clothes her sister made, to effect a change with." This little accident Harolde considered a just 63 a just reward for the scandal which had given him such pain ; it put him in good humour witli himself and all around him. At Calais he made a short stay, and set out in the diligence for Paris. Having paid his respects, as a matter of form, to the British ambassador, he left his card at the door of the Countess Bonvilliers's hotel. This was the only person in Paris to whom Harolde had brought an introduc- tion ; but his name soon spread through all the parterres of fashion : the mushroom nobility of Napoleon poured their atten- tions upon him ; the black-leg^ of the Palais Roy ale anticipated a rich harvest ; and the opera girls replumed their caps, to catch this wayward bird of passage. Charles Freeman busied himself in per- using the galleries of art, and exploring the catacombs ; so that Harolde, left to himself. 64 liimself, gave full swing to his inclinations ; he was like a ship at sea, without pilot or rudder to guide her, and had run upon a hundred shoals before Freeman, his Pali- nurus, was aware of his danger. At the Countess Bonvilliers's he met all the i-ank and fashion of Paris. Her conversationes were crowded with marshals, dukes, mi- nisters of state, bishops, and petit-mattres ; and every beauty, married or single, there displayed her charms. Arts, sciences, pleasures, love, and glory, were alternate- ly discussed with Parisian elegance and freedom ; it was " the feast of reason and the flow of soul ;" and Harolde was per- fectly in his element. The Countess was in her thirtieth year, but looked much younger; descended from an ancient and illustrious family, who were obliged to fly at the time of the Re- volution> volution, she was brought up by her fugi- tive parents in Switzerland, and when only seventeen, married to General Bonvilliers, a soldier of fortune, one of Napoleon's counts : he came recommended to her pa- rents, by his wealth, his good name, and having the command of an army ; he was recommended to the lady, by his hand- some person, noble mind, generosity, and glory. They had lived happily — that is, as man and wife usually do in France, fulfilling the child's bargain — " you let me alone, I'll let you alone." The General was a man of gallantry, and though he really loved his wife, he loved others also. The Countess was not content to share his heart ; and her charms conquered so many, that she had no rea- son to regret the loss of her husband's. She was famous for her intrigues ; any real 66 real criminality had never been brought liome to her, for a good reason — at Paris it is nohodjfs business to find out a wo- man's failings, and every hodijs business to iAxQ her a tj^ood name, who has a ixood face to carry her through the vortex of dissipation. The grace and elegance of the Countess struck Harolde as far superior to the art- less and diffident manners of his Highland Mary, or the formal, school-bred civility of Miss Wellbank ; she was a being of superior mould : Mary was the mild star of evening, that enchants by its retiring and modest rays ; Miss Wellbank was a steady planet, more solid than showy ; and the Countess a comet, in the blaze of which every little star hid its diminished head, and ceased to shine. The mind of Harolde was, at this hey- day 67 day time, not formed with regard to fe- male excellence ; it underwent many changes in the course of a more exten- sive intimacy -with the world : dazzled by exteriors, he did not look much further ; he was content with the beautiful carving of the medal, without inquiring its intrin- sic value ; it might be varnished over, and base metal within — the polished surface pleased him, and he had no intention of wearing it, till time had laid bare its im- perfections. He attached himself so closely to the side of the Countess, that he was pointed out by all as a happy man ; and if smiles and nods, winks and whispers, in public, from a pretty woman, are criterions to jCidge of a man's private felicities, Harolde was a happy man. Gaming was practised at the Countess's every other night during the 68 the week, and Harolde often staked large sums ; lie lost with ease, and the Countess was most frequently a winner from him. He had become almost infatuated with her company ; and their amour was spoken of publicly. Neither a man or a woman is aught in Paris, till they have an intrigue on foot, to make them notorious ; when that is done, they are fit for any society, and may do what they please, free from censure. Harolde had forced many ele- gant presents upon the Countess, and amongst them his miniature, set in dia- monds, surrounded by the arms of his family ; this she vowed to keep saci;pd and secret ; and he had an opportunity of knowing that she slept with it under her pillow. One evening he rambled, in com- pany with Freeman, into the Opera Co- mique, and seated himself in a box beside an 69 an agreeable woman, with whom he en- tered into conversation. In Paris, the for- mality of an introduction is not required, when people meet at places of public amusement. He observed a portrait round her neck, and, to his utter dismay, en- circled by the very diamonds and arms of his family, that lie had presented to his adorable Countess. He begged permis- sion to look at it ; and having satisfied his doubts, asked if the arms and crest were of her family ? The lady candidly admitted she was not entitled to such honours ; her husband was a jeweller, and bought the case from young Count Danvers — "A favourite," she added, " of the Countess Bonvilliers, but so very poor, that he parts with ever}'^ present she makes him." Bidding the lady adieu, he hastened to his 70 his hotel, and told Freeman what he had discovered, who drily observed — " You have only now found out what all Paris has long seen, that she is a jilt, and you her dupe." liarolde now considered by what means he could repossess the miniature case, when he proposed shewing it the Coun- tess, reproaching her with base incon- stancy, and casting her like a worthless weed away. Freeman doubted not but he siiould be able to purchase this toy iu the jeweller's shop, where it would be deposited after his wife had done with it, such articles being worn to attract customers. He was right, and next day put it into Harolde's hands, delighted with the idea of dissolving a connexion, which was not only expensive but dangerous; for the General, 71 General, who was expected soon, was hot and passionate ; he would wink at his wii'es faua: pas, when secretly carried on; but the moment his name was made a theme for public conversation, he would not hesitate to venture his life in defence of his injured honour. " Virtue consists in ably vice concealinjj, The sin and s!iame are all in the revealing." HAP 72 CHAP. Ill Rest, perturbed spirit, rest— Smooth the brow, and calm the brcsist. J. W. f rokki Wc jiassed the Aljw, we gained the clime, Where true love still is found— in rhyme. Uyrom. Love and jcaloaty. — A French coquette's bcd-rooin. — A sudden illness. — Happy explanation. — Harolde more in love tlian ever. — A charade. — Stanzas on the Countess. — Loses ten thousand francs at the gaming-table — visit from a noble sharper — recovers his money. — Airival of General Bonvilliers at Paris. — Meets Sir George Howell on tlie Boulevards. — News of Miss Wellbank. — Last interview with the Countess. — The two friends leave Paris. — Lines on Absence. — Crossing Mont St. Bernard. — Strange meeting with a Parisian Count — mutual explanations. — Arrival at Milan.— Haro/Jc procures a commission for the Count. Arrival at Rome. — The Marquis de Santo Frcere and his pro- UgSe Signora il^cs— description of tliat lady's |>erson and ac- complislunents.— A musical party.— First impressions.— Designs of the Marchioness on Harolde's heart. — Mrs. Billington and Buonaparte.— Revengeful disposition of a lady— her illnes«. —Haroldc's secret meetings with Agnes— she elopes with him. —Arrival at Naples.— Hill of St. Elmo — Classical views.— Happiness. — 73 Happiuebs. — Mecling with Uic -Miiniuis do 6a«t«) Freeie — liis meanness. — A challenge — prcpardUuii, — Arrival ol Dantcrh at ihe cottage. — A singular combat. — Terror of Agna.^—Harol'ir ...s for the Isle of Caprci. Harolde was so anxious to execute his high resolves, that he rose early, and sent a message, to say that he would do him- self the honour of breakfasting with the Countess Bonvilliers. Freeman was de- sirous of accompanying him ; but his ex- treme sense of delicacy, which he always observed to the most worthless of the fair sex, induced him to decline his company, and he sallied forth alone. The lady re- ceived him in her bed-chamber, which is alway customary in France; intimate friends go into the apartment of a married woman, the most scrupulous that can be, sa7is ceremonie, where the lady is seen re- posing upon pillows, and her bed covered VOL. I. E with 74 with books, roses, and billet-doux ; tlie lat- ter she employs one of her favourites to read, and listens, as she sips her chocolate, like a sultana in her harem. Loveletters are bandied about in Paris to married wo- men, from single and married men, as mat- ters of course, and no husband will be of- fended that his wife's charms are thus ho- noured with admiration. Indeed the hy- perbole and anti-terrestrial style in which these complimentary effusions are made up, is quite sufficient to shew that their meaning, if they have any, is like that " peace which passeth all understanding." Harolde felt all his courage forsaking him as he ascended the staircase, and by the time his feet had reached the vestibule of the inconstant's chamber, they failed of their office, and he sunk exhausted into a chair. The 75 The fille de chambre, who attended, in- stantly informed her mistress that mi- lord was taken ill. She came out in her undress, literally in her diemise, and ap- peared so deeply affected at the state she found him in, he began to waver in his resolutions, and wish the jeweller's wife at the devil. He soon recovered, and enter- ing the chamber, apologized for his illness, as arising from walking fast in the rays of a warm sun. Common chat ensued ; Ha- rolde had the object of his visit twenty times at his lips, but dared not utter it ; she looked so fair, he was afraid of finding her false. He handed her chocolate, and assisted her to dress, put on her slippers, arranged the flowers in her hair and her bosom, and without having uttered a syl- lable of what was uppermost in his thoughts, he took her offered hand, and E 2 led 7(j i led her down into the garden, to pay a ' morning visit to her flowers, of which she had an extensive collection, from the ra- nunculus of Rousseau to the violet of Na- poleon. Seated in an alcove, he at length hesitatingly inquired if her Ladyship knew^ Count Danvers? and he watched her^ countenance, when she replied, as feebly as a criminal does of his judge when lie^ begs for life and mercy — " Oh yes," said* the Countess, " know him, ay, and love^ him dearly !" (Harolde turned pale) — \ " He is my nephew ;" (Harolde's coun- ! tenance brightened up) — " an extravagant i young rogue; his father is fired of sup-1 j)orting him, and he depends almost 1 wholly on me for support ; I have not seen i him these three days : we had a serious I quarrel, in which you were a little con-' cerned, and he is ashamed to face me^ 77 since." Harolde looked inquiry, and the Countess proceeded. — " You must know, that the case of the miniature you gave me was so encumbered with the arms and mounting, I could not wear it convenient- ly in my bosom ; look here," said she, " where it hurt me, as I leaned over a Chi- nese railing." She then exposed a breast whiter than the snow of the Alps, and streaked with lines of heavenly blue. There was indeed a slight scratch upon the skin, which Harolde kissed with feverish lips, that shed a balm over it, but not of a healing nature to the disease which burnt within. — " Well," she resumed, " Dan vers had the miniature case in charge from me, to get altered, and reduced in size ; the fellow has, I suppose, lent it to some one for a few Louis d'ors, and cannot redeem it again. But how do you know my ne- E 3 phew? — 78 I piievv ? — I never remember introducing you to him ; he is too dissoUite for the no- tice of my Harolde." Harolde then pro- j duced the case, and made her acquainted ' with what the reader already knows. — " I am glad that you love me so well as to be jealous — and I am a giddy thing ; you will ■ have more reasons yet to suspect me, if you continue to love, for I have no more ! prudence than a moth that, dazzled by the flame of a candle, flutters about it till it is consumed." A kiss followed this speech, and Ha- I rolde was more enamoured than ever; they parted, with an engagement to meet , at the opera in the evening. Finding Freeman had gone out, Ha- rolde sat down, and with the events of the morning in his head, he composed, and sent ! 79 sent to the Countess, a charade, being the first and the only one he ever wrote. CHARADE. Soft as silk on blooming bride, Smooth as marble's polish'd side, Streak'd with shades of purple flood, Fill'd with nectar — heavenly flood, Veil'd like the moon in soft attire, Through which perceiv'd, we much admire, Ever panting to be press'd, Shrinking always when caress'd. Tell me, Countess, what are these — Scarcely seen, yet form'd to please ? Harolde's poetic vein was that of a gen- tleman; he only wrote to amuse an idle hour, and so carelessly, that he was often ashamed of his productions, when shewn E i to 80 to him long aflcr lie had forgotten them. The world chose to call him a poet, and being a man of rank and fortune, heaps of nonsense have been attributed to him, ne- ver " dreamt of in his philosophy." His reply to his friend Freeman, who often pressed him to disavow those publications, was — " They do me no harm, for I despise a poet's name, and any poor devil is hearti- ly welcome to make use of mine, if he can get wherewithal to purchase a dinner by it." At dinner-time Freeman made his ap- pearance, rather surprised to find Harolde in tip-top spirits, pacing the room, and singing "Why, who would suspect, where such rapture and beauty, 111 all lier light follies conspicuously shine, And the sweet loves and graces all deem it a duty, In her person the charms of high heaven to combine r « Like 81 ** Like a soU cloud in May is iier liair when adorning Htr neck, which of beauty a galaxy shews ; Her eyes are as bright as the star of the morning, Her cheeks blend the lily and Asia's red rose. " Truth flows from her lips, all her heart's thouitlits dis- closing. Her smile is ^ magic dispeller of care; The young sporting Loves in her eyes are reposing, Surrounded by pleasures, bright, sparkling, and fair." " Bravo !" said Freeman, who had stood Hstening at the door to this amorous effu- sion, " And who is the new happy an- gel, that has thus inspired the muse of my friend, after being so recently jilted by one of the loveliest of the sex?" To this question Harolde made no reply. After dinner, Harolde related the event of his conference with the Countess. Freeman could not deny but her story was sufficiently plausible ; but he had heard E 5 so 82 so many stories to her disadvantage, that he could not help suspecting there was a mystery behind : he inquired if Ilarolde had seen the miniature, and lie acknow- ledged he had not. — " Perhaps," said Free- man, " Danvers had that also in charge, to get altered for another person's." This roused suspicion again where it had been lulled to rest; and wheii the opera-hour arrived, Harolde flew to the Countess's hotel, to escort her, and was not a little delighted, to see his miniature taken from under the pillow, and placed in the lady's bosom. . The opera passed over as such exhibi- tions usually do, and Harolde having bade good night to the Countess, joined some of his Parisian acquaintances : when after drinking freely, they sallied forth to a ffamincT- 83 gaming-table, where, in due time, he found liimself minus ten thousand francs. The loss did not affect him much ; and in the morning he was making some vain resolutions over his coftee, never to gamble again, when his servant announced tiiat u strange gentleman requested to see mi- lord. — " Shew him up," was the order; for Harolde, when disengaged, never denied himself to any one. A tall handsome youth, whose face evi- dently shewed the lines of sickness, drawn by the pencil of dissipation, entered. Af- ter apologizing for the intrusion, the stran- ger asked, if my milord had not lost a large sum of money, at such a gaming- house, the preceding evening ? Harolde replied in the affirmative. " I," said the youth, " was one of the party looking on, and knowing you as a E 6 British 84 British nobleman, intimate in a family with which 1 am by blood connected, I watch- ed the sharpers' manoeuvres, and plainly saw them cheat you at every throw. When you were gone, I addressed myself to them. They knew me too well, for, I blush to say, that my necessities have made me as- sociate with scoundrels I despise, and de- manded their winnings, in order to restore them to you. The fear of my disclosing their names to the police, and a promise that 1 would answer for no steps being taken against them, caused them to com- ply — and here, milord, is your money." The stranger then rose, and with rapi- dity, as though he had committed a rob- bery instead of a generous action, he flew down stairs; and Harolde, who rung the bell, and ordered the servant to watch whither he went, was too late — he had shut 85 shut the door after him, and turned none knew whither. Astonished at this magnanimity, in a man who had acknowledged that his ne- cessities made him associate with sharpers, Harolde resolved to spare no pains in find- ing out and saving him from ruin ; he then sealed up the bag in which was the ten thousand francs, and placing it in secu- rity, vowed he would never touch it, un- til he had the pleasure of putting it into the hands of the young man, whose ho- nesty merited it as a reward. He related this anecdote to the Coun- tess, who declared that in the circle of her acquaintance, which comprehended nearly all the ton in Paris, she did not believe there was one capable of such a noble ac- tion. — " That fellow, my nephew" she continued, " is a gambler, and resorts to that 86 that very house you mention ; it is not unlikely he assisted in plundering you ; only I know his high spirit would never have submitted to surrender the money to any person's remonstrance or threats." Harolde, who had ceased to remember all the pain he had suffered about the mi- niature case, now pleaded for the Coun- tess's nephew, and she consented to par- don him. As Harolde did not come from the me- tropolis of one kingdom to settle in an- other equally scandalous and depraved, he listened to the suggestions of Freeman, who urged him to depart, and he felt the necessity of tearing himself from one whom he must part with at last. \Vhilst he was endeavouring to prepare his mind for a separation, the General Bonvilliers arrived in Paris ; and Harolde had 87 had the mortification to find, that when lie called, he was received very coldly by him, and not requested to repeat his visit. No stimulant could rouse Harolde from sloth so effectually as wounding his pride; to be treated with hauteur by a mushroom of nobility, was too much. Freeman saw the agitation of his mind, and taking ad- vantage of it, got him to fix a day for his departure. This was hastened by another circum- stance: he one day met on the Boule- vards Sir George Howell; they were within a yard of each other, or he would gladly have avoided him. The baronet shook hands very cordially, and they re- tired to discuss old affairs over a bottle. As Harolde had not avowed himself in London the lover of his niece, nor (as she admitted) had ever made her a declaration of 88 of his sentiments, the haronet was not justified in reproaching him for his hasty retreat, nor could he attribute it to a wish to get rid of Miss Wellbank's acquaint- ance; he therefore only rallied him upon his rapid flight, and said that his niece had ever since been residing at Windsor, and her health was but very indifferent : his object in coming to France, was to take a house for her near Versailles, in hope of a change of climate benefiting her health ; and as soon as it was prepared, he should return to conduct her thither. Harolde's heart felt hurt at this intelli- gence, and the sensibility of his mind conjured up a hundred thouglits to make him miserable. It was for him, he thought, Miss AVellbank's health was declining; and, despite of family pride, he would not trust himself to meet her in Paris, lest he should 89 should forget himself, and marry the mer- chant's niece. With considerable difficulty he obtained an interview with the Countess, in the fo- rest of Versailles, near which place the Ge- neral had a chateau, to which he had re- moved his lady from the scandal of Paris, that had poured into his ears a thousand tales of her intrigues with Lord Harolde. Freeman's suspicions were unfounded — she really loved him, and the sacrifices she had made, convinced him of it. She would have gone any where with him, had not her regard for two lovely children, rivetted her to the General's house and for- tunes. Harolde arranged a way by which they could occasionally write to one an- other with safety ; and with heavy hearts they parted, never to meet again. This was perhaps all for the best, as the lady 90 lady was a married one, and the connex- ion not justifiable, either on the principles of morality or religion ; but Harolde was not a very strict observer of rigid rules — a man of the world, a little tinctured with the lax principles of modern philosophy. This romance will develop the bad and good of his character, shewing the man, not as he ought to have been, but such as he really was. Harolde and Freeman took the road to Italy, stopping wherever any thing was worthy to be seen. He was greatly de- jected, and indulged in his sullen fits with all the luxurious joy of grief When he was recovering his wonted placidity of temper, these stanzas were found on his table :— ON 91 ON ABSENCE. Absence cures the mind of fancies, Absence regulates desire ; 111 ubscnce oft we muse with reason- Reason, virtue's friends admire. Admiration thrives on knowledge. Firmly rooted, timely grown ; Time, matures a just affection — Absence makes it truly known. Three months had glided away, when our friends ascended the Great St. Ber- nard, towards the autumn of the year, proposing to pass the winter in the Tyrol Accompanied only by one servant, they rode on horseback, forwarding their bag- gage as opportunity served. The pass into Italy over the mountain St. Bernard is rugged and gloomy ; curi- osity induced our travellers to take it, to traverse 92 traverse spots once deemed inacccsible, where armies had passed, and he had de- scended like an avalanche upon Italy, whose name was the boast of France, and a terror to all pAirope. In descending a deep defile, Harolde dismounted, and gave his horse to the servant, with direc- tions to wait for him at the convent of St Benedict. Freeman, with a book in his hand, had gone on a good way before. Harolde, left alone, wandered at ran- dom amongst the gloomy pines — rushing torrents, catching, every few minutes, a prospect of the milder world below, which they were hastening to enjoy. The even- ing closed in quickly. When he regained the road, and was hurrying onwards, a horseman galloped up to him on a foaming steed. Harolde had no time either for flight or defence ; and having read so much of the robbers 93 robbers of the Alps, he prej^ared to give up the little he carried in his purse, with- out attempting a resistance, whicli might bc» flital to his life. The stranger, who was muffled in a large grey cloak, inquired how far he was from any place where refreshment and rest for the night was to be had ; and Ha- rolde, well pleased to find him no robber, told him the convent of St. Benedict was not far distant. The stranger reined in his horse, and entered into conversation. Harolde thought he had heard the voice before, and, impressed with this idea, inquired if he had been at Paris? The stranger said that he liad come from thence, and was on his way to join the army of Italy. Observing Harolde walk as if lame, he kindly offered him his horse, 94 horse, wliicb was declined ; so he politely dismounted, and, with the bridle on his arra, they sauntered towards the convent. The moon was up when they arrived un- der its lofty battlements, for it had once been made a fortification of by the French army. It was full of travellers proceeding to France, and Freeman, with difficulty, had got one room, and a supper prepared for his friend, whom he wondered to see in another person's company. Harolde invited the stranger to partake of their room and repast ; and when he threw off his cloak, was astonished to see the very man who had, six months before, run away, after returning him his ten thousand francs at Paris. A mutual ex- planation ensued, and a cordial acquaint- ance commenced. Next morning, as they journeyed on, Harolde 95 Harolde managed to elicit from this re- storer of his property his history and pre- sent intentions : he had been very disso- lute of late years, and spent a small for- tune ; his father and family were weary of supplying his extravagances, and he was in doubt whether to commit suicide, when, by a fortunate chance, he won a hundred Louis d'ors at the gaming-table ; with that he had purchased a horse, and was now going to join the army of Italy as a volun- teer, trusting to his sword to hew his way to fortune — " And if I fall," said he, " no one will mourn for Danvers." " Danvers !" exclaimed Harolde, with surprise ; " are you the nephew of " " The Countess Bonvilliers, milord, whom I have never seen since she in- trusted me with a miniature case, that I was unable to retain." "And 96 *' And why, my dear sir, did you not tell me this, and I would have reconciled you to your aunt, wlio promised me to forgive you — why not tell me this when you returned my money?" said Harolde. " Had I wished for reward, I could have kept your cash," he replied, blushing; " but that was an act of returning honour ; and I did not then know you were ac- quainted with my aunt, having only seen you at my cousin's, the Marquis de Gran- ges." Harolde lamented that a young man so nobly born should go into the army as a volunteer, where the hardships were many, and the rank only one step above a com- mon soldier, and told him of sealing up the ten thousand francs — " Which," he added, " now I know your circumstances, and we are sworn friends, you must and shall 97 shall accept : were you only the Countess Bonvilliers's nephew, I would do as much more for you ; but you are more — you are my friend." Harolde insisted on his keeping them company to Milan, where they found the staff of the French army had fixed their head-quarters. The General received Ha- rolde politely. We were not then at war- Mr. Addington's peace, of a twelvemonth's duration, having just taken place. The letters of introduction Harolde brought to this worthy General, were from tlie high- est authorities, and so strong, that when he confided to him the story of Count Danvers, he at once gave him a commis- sion, and employed him about his person. Having thus settled him, he made him accept the money, and left him, with a VOL. I F promise 98 ; j promise of his interest wlienevei- he could - serve him further. After visiting various parts of Italy, the 1 fi'iends repaired to Rome. At this time j all the convent gates in Italy had been o})ened by the French, and the nuns set j at liberty ; many of them refused, from religious impressions, to quit their sanctu- aries; and others, having no friends able or willing to receive them, remained from i necessity. In the family of the Marquis i de Santo Freere, there was a young lady, 1 \\ lio had been only two years in the con- i vent of Salerno, in Calabria ; her father ] and brother were both killed in battle, and ■ the family estates divided amongst the i conquerors of Naples. She had issued j from her dormitory, and placed herself under the JMarquis's protection, who was j distantly related to her mother ; and, as a | companion | 99 companion to his lady, she moved a hum- ble dependent. The Marchioness kept her hi the background, not allowing her to dress, except very plainly ; and her beauty attracted such attention whenever she appeared in her company in public, that, jealous of her charms, she would ne- ver have crossed the threshold of tlie pa- lace, but have found it a secojid convent, had not the Marquis insisted upon her in- troduction to his friends, and taken every opportunity of shewing her his counte- nance. Agnes was only seventeen years of age, and might have sat for a Madona; her complexion was fair, and the rose scarcely tinged her languid cheek ; her eyes were light and intelligent, her hair auburn, tlowing in natural curls over her lovely bosom ; she was a petit figure, and want r 2 of 100 of dress prevented its being seen to advan- tage. The loss of her father and brother, and her present dependence on compara- tive strangers, gave her an air of settled melancholy, to which the harshness of the Marchioness contributed. She was of a gentle disposition — so timid, that an oppo- sition to injuries never entered her thoughts ; she was the lily, that bends to every gale, and bathes its sweet head un- seen in the morning dew. At a concert given by the Marchioness, to which Harolde was invited, he first no- ticed Agnes; she was playing on the harp, which she accompanied with a voice so inexpressibly sweet, that Harolde press- ed through the crowd, and, unconscious of rudeness, placed himself full before her, and fixed his eyes on her face. When she had concluded her performance, and look- ed 101 ed up, a crimson blush spread from her face, over her bosom, and thence to her fingers' ends, at seeing herself the parti- cular mark of observation to a young and handsome stranger. Harolde immediately saw his error, and stepping up, thanked her for the gratification he had received, and during the whole evening paid her particular attention. The INIarchioness observed this, and was vexed; she had cherished a design on Harolde's heart from the hour she first saw him, and now to be rivalled by this little dependent on her bounty, gave her feelings of a very ran- corous nature. This lady was in her thirtieth year, ami justly accounted handsome; it was said that at Florence she superseded the famous English singer, Mrs. Billington, in the affections of Napoleon Buonaparte; and it F 3 is 102 is certain she enjoyed his protection for some time before she married tlie Mar- (juis de Santo Freere, tlie latter taking her from interested motives ; by so doing he had his large estates restored, and was raised to the rank of a general in the Ita- lian army. The Marchioness was a true Italian ; she possessed strong ungovernable pas- sions — no sacrifice was too great for her to make to gratify them — and when disap- pointed, she had recourse to the stiletto, as a just instrument of revenge; and who- ever she cast her eyes upon, had only two choices to make one from — to be her lover or her victim. Haroldc had noticed her partiality for him, and, for want of better amusement, gave it some return. Harolde's form had now assumed all the vigour of manliood ; his chest was expand- ed, 103 ed, his muscles broad — he trod the earth as it' springing from it ; his handsome fea- tures were always varying, and the very great negligence with which he wore the richest apparel, gave a grace to his person, that to a less accomplished person would have been a blemish, and created disgust. Having once noticed Agnes, he went oftener to the Marquis's, and of necessity, paid more attention to his lady, who took care to let him see as little of Agnes as possible, and never left them alone. A favourable opportunity occurred at last; the tyrannical mistress took ill, and kept her chamber a whole month. Love can do the work of years in a less space of time ; and Harolde so ingratiated himself into the confidence of the fair Agnes, that she told him all her sorrows, and he found her situation worse than he had supposed. F 4 When 104 Wlirn once a woman makes a confidant of* a man, it is all over with her; she has given him her heart, and what remains he may take when he pleases. The Marquis paid more attention to his military duties than to his wife, and was seldom at home, leaving her to her medi- cal advisers and a confessor, whom Harolde suspected promoted the sins he had after- wards to pardon. Agnes and Harolde often walked together on the borders of lake Averno, and sometimes ventured to sail thereon in a small boat. It was understood that the Marchioness was recovering, and would be down stairs in a few days. Agnes had never been ad- mitted to her sick chamber, for which she was thankful, and it was given out that Harolde had gone to Naples. All his in- terviews with Agnes were secretly con- ducted. 105 ducted, no one being privy to them but a faithful servant. Agnes dreaded that she would lose Ha- rolde for ever, and lamenting her hard fate, met him as usual near the lake. He per- suaded her to enter the small boat. She was unusually thoughtful, and when they landed on the opposite side from the pa- lace of Santo Freere, she scarce knew the change. Harolde supported her to Pem- blona, the next village, and without ut- tering a word of objection, she entered a chariot, and drove away on the high road to Naples. This elopement had never been planned nor imagined by either party ; the silence of Agnes gave consent, and she became mistress to the man she loved almost unconsciously. As they proceeded, her spirits recover- ed, and when they reached Naples, she F 5 shewed lOG sliewed more gaiety of heart than llarolde had imagined her to possess. They took up their residence in a neat cottage, on the Iiill or St. Khno, not choosing to enter the city, wliere Agnes would be known by her former acquaintances, who had abandoned her in the reverses of her for- tune, but would be ready enough to cen- sure a step tlieir cruelty had occasioned, by leaving her friendless on the world, and without the name of a protector. The hill of St. Elmo, on which the '\ castle stands, commands one of the grand- ^ est prospects in all Italy ; in itself it is j lofty, the castle is a magnificent and < strong fortress, a beautiful convent is shel- ! tered under its guns, and the i\g, the olive, the citron, and orange, grow all around in little thickets; over which you • see the whole city of Naples — the ])alaces, covered 107 covered with evergreens, the castles of Carmino, del Ova, and de Xeuvo, the noble pier, and fleets of shipping in the Hay, where at this time a British squa- dron rode, expecting a declaration of war against the French to be issued every day. On the left, lay the islands of Ischia and Procida, smiling, like Edens in miniature ; to the right, Vesuvius, in solemn grandeur, threw up her flames to the sky, and on whose sloping sides, gradually descending to the ocean, were sprinkled palaces, mo- nasteries, villages, and gardens, seen in great variety. The towns of Portici and Castelamara led the eye to the promon- tory of Misenum, where the younger Pliny was at the great eruption, when his uncle perished; beyond that the gulf of Salerno expanded to receive the waves of a classic sea; the villa of Cicero, the r 6 baths 108 baths of Baia, the Sabine villa of Horace, in splendid ruins» were contrasted with the dazzling spires of Salerno, the palaces of the prince of that name, and watch- towers of war, on whose summits the tri- coloured flag sported on the breeze. The island of Caprea closed the view, the scene of Tiberius's infamous pleasures, and still the Cytherea of Italy, where luxury and voluptuousness revel uncontrolled. Such scenes were congenial to the soul of Harolde; he passed a day gazing upon them; they were golden moments to a poetic heart, and had he been inclined to wander into the regions of poesy, he had one by his side who could have passed for a melancholy muse. But Harolde had happier thoughts; no sullen moment overclouded his temper; in possession of the lovely girl he held so dear, Hope pointed 109 pointed forward to many happy days in her society : — Primeval Hope, thy passioii-kindliiig power How bright, how strong, in j^outh^s untroubled hour ! VVak'd by thy touch, I see the sister band On tiptoe, watching, start at thy command ; And fly where'er thy mandate bids them steer. To pleasure's path, or glory's bright career. Campbell. Agnes pointed out to her friend the seat of her family on the Mantuan road ; she did not regret its loss, for by that she had found her lover; and Harolde, en- thusiastic in every thing, declared he would make an effort with the British ambassador to get some part of it restored to the lawful heiress. He marked out se- veral improvements he wished her to su- perintend in the grounds belonging to the cottage, which were, to the extent of two acres, almost in a state of nature; but above 110 above all, he directed her to have a tem- porary pavilion, open on all sides, erected in a citron grove, where he proposed liv- ing whenever the weather permitted, en- joying his books and music beneath cloud- less skies. He always considered a close house as a prison, in which he declared his soul had not elbow-room. Agnes ap- peared happy, and having gathered a re- past of delicious fruits, they returned to the cottage, Agnes saying that it was the happiest day she had enjoyed for the last four years. The first thing Harolde did, was to write to Freeman, to come to him, bring- ing his baggage. In a few days he ar- rived : he well knew the character of Ha- rolde, and that in him was verified the , scriptural truth — " It is not meet for man to be alone." And though he was the only Ill only person who dared to tell him bluntly of his faults, he seldom did so, except it was called for by some observation of Ha- rolde's that encouraged an explanation. He trusted to time — and so that he pre- vented him from forming any improper matrimonial connexion beneath his rank and fortune, he was content that his tran- sient amours should come and pass even as his fancy dictated. — Harolde was one even- ing walking in the Royal Gardens at Portici, at an hour when the company had mostly gone back to Naples, Agnes was hanging on his arm, when they en- countered the JNIarquis de Santo Freere • he bowed, and called Harolde on one side ; and Agnes saw Harolde give him a card of address. The Marquis then walked away, ]iot having noticed his former protegee. Agnes had a regard for the Marquis : he had 112 I had been kind in appearance to her when under his roof; and but for his lady's op- position, would probably have been more i so. In public he always treated her as upon an equality with his family, J^nd in- troduced her to all his friends. The re- I collection of these apparent kindnesses 1 was rooted in the grateful heart of Agnes : had she been acquainted with the true i motives that actuated him on such occa- i sions, her contempt would have been more I profound than her gratitude had been ar- dent. Vanity and ostentation guided him : to every one he told her stoiy, and ob- | tained what he wanted — praise for his ge- i nerosity in supporting the fair fugitive ; i and as he had a constant anxiety to be I thought a man of gallantry, the displea- sure his lady evinced in public towards i Agnes, he hinted, so that it spread to every 113 every ear but that of her thus cruelly slandered, was occasioned by her jealousy, as Agnes was his chosen chere ainie, A- mongst his bottle companions, he boasted unreservedly of having triumphed over her virtue, and that he kept her in his house to mortify his wife, and shew that he would be master — a thing he never had been ; for he took the hand of the Mar- chioness from his French ruler, upon the same conditions the vizier of a sultan takes that of his cast-ofF concubine — " Woman, I give thee this man to be thy slave." Harolde denied to Agnes that he had ex^changed cards with the Marquis, which alarmed her still more, as she knew him to be a man who would fight, if only to gain a name. She communicated her fears to Freeman, who clearly saw that a meet- ing mu^t ensue, but did not know how to act 114 I act so as to prevent it, without offeiidiiit^ | his friend, or compromising his honour. ! He had settled upon no plan, when Ha- ^ rolde, taking him by the arm after break- fast, led him into the citron grove, and , there told him he had received a challenge : from the Marquis de Santo Freere, in the , gardens at Portici, and was to meet him \ that day near the Grotto del Cane, re- , questing him to be his second. To this j Freeman gave his assent, but suggested j the propriety of calling in another friend ; conversant with the practices on such oc- casions at Naples, where quarrels were de- , cided by the sword. Harolde knew not , any person to whom he would choose to ; apply, and they made up their minds to i dispense with one. Harolde told Free- j man he had taken care of him hi his will, i and left him a small independence — " And if: 115 if I fall," said he, putting a valuable re- peater in his hand, " wear this in remem- brance of me; and present this (a diamond ring), on your return to old England, to Miss ^Vellbank, and tell her she was the only woman I ever loved so well as to think of making my wife. Agnes I have also provided for; and if I am unlucky enough to die, you must rescue my me- mory from obloquy." Freeman, " albeit unused to the melt- ing mood," shed silent tears, and wrung the hand of his friend in anguish ; but suddenly recollecting himself, he said — " Well, since it must be so, we will go through it bravely ; and I cannot think Harolde is destined to fall by so feeble a hand." " At school," replied Harolde, " I was the best swordsman of forty youngsters, and 116 and I never forgot any thing I once learnt,! however so trivial, either as a duty or ani accomplishment." I On reentering the cottage, Agnes said that a young gentleman, in French mili-i tary costume, was in the saloon, waiting to see Lord Harolde, with whom he was very intimate. i " May be so," muttered my Lord; " a* Frenchman calls you his intimate friend | if he has merely trod upon your toe, and i begged pardon for the accident." Harolde soon recognised in the officer, ] his friend Count Danvers, who embraced him with real joy: he was promoted to aj lieutenancy, and joined his regiment at I Naples three months previous to this in-i terview. — " How did you find me out ini this retreat, where I have only been a few days?" asked Harolde. "My] 117 *' My company are quartered in the castle of St. Elmo; and taking a morn- ing's stroll by the outward gate, I observ- ed the favourite dog which was following you, and like to worry me when I en- countered you on the Alps : to be satisfied, I looked at the inscription on his collar — * Stranger, be satisfied, and let me go, Nor curiously my badge of honour scan ; I'm Haroide's/rienrf, sincere, in weal or wo, Then haste and find another if thou can.' I then walked in without ceremony, and a young lady invited me to remain till your return." " And in happy time are you come," said Harolde, with rapidity, " for in two hours I shall want you to attend me to the field. But have some refreshment, and whilst I am dressing, Freeman will explain 118 explain my meaning. ' He tiien ran up stairs, to sooth Agnes, who, deceived by his hilarity, began to think there was nothing serious going to occur betwixt him and the Manpiis, especially when he ordered dinner at a certain hour, for themselves and Lieutenant Danvers, who was going, he said, to conduct them over the castle. This w^as one of those " white lies" Ha- rolde thought pardonable, when applied to set the heart of a woman at rest. The party rode to the grotto of Pausi- lippo, and sat down under the shade of the chesnut trees, that form a semicircle round the entrance of the cave. Presently they remarked a large cavalcade advancing, and at first supposed it to be the police coming to arrest them, and prepared to take to their heels. The conspicuous figure of the Marquis, mounted on his white charger, with 119 with a plume of feathers, like a peacock's tail, in liis hat, assured them it was the foe. He was accompanied by four friends, the like number of servants, a surgeon, and a capuchin friar ; the latter to admi- nister extreme unction in case of mortal wounds. This procession was closed by a litter on springs, like a pianoforte-maker's car, on which were a bed and pillows, and a chest of surgical instruments; and last, not least in estimation, some bottles of ex- hilarating cordial. Having alighted, Ha- rolde, stifling a laugh at this ridiculous scene, bowed to the Marquis, whose se- conds arranged with Freeman and the Count the mode of combat with small- swords, a bundle of which were produced, and one taken at random by Freeman, v/as put into Harolde's hands, and the combatants stripped, Harolde to his shirt, the 120 the Marquis to a fine dress of embroidered ' silk, similar to liarlet|uiirs on a London stage. Tlie Count insisted u|X)n thejack-i et, or upper part of this dress, being re- 1 moved, as silk was capable of resisting! considerably a push from a sharp instru- j ment ; and the jacket was found, on the ' Marquis doifing it, with reluctance, to be three folds thick over the breast. The seconds of the Marquis then made a \ last overture, " that Harolde should ac- \ knowledge he had violated the laws of | hospitality, by seducing Agnes, and beg ! pardon." ! To this Harolde, by his seconds, replied — " That he had violated no laws of hos- pitality, inasmuch as he was not even a visitor at the palace; that he had not se- duced Agnes, who voluntarily quitted her ' tyrant's abode ; and that, right or wrong, he 121 he would never bc<( ])ardc)n of any man." The Marquis, takiuj^ a nlass of cordial in his hand, drank to Ilaroklc, who de- clined pledging him, not needing artificial courage ; when the most ludicrous part of the ceremony began : the Marquis knelt down, and placing his two hands betwixt those of the capuchin, made an audible confession of his sins, and received absolu- tion, with permission to rise and murder a fellow-creature (if he could) in the name of the Lord Jesus. The rosy-gillcd friar next offered his services to Harolde, who very impatiently told him to " be gone for an old fool," and taking his place, the attack commenced by signal. The Marquis was skilful, and for ten minutes neither could touch his antago- nist's skin. The Marquis made the first VOL. I. G impression, 122 impression, by running Harolde through the fleshy part of his shoulder, which he quickly returned with interest, passing his sword tIu*ough his body. As he fell, he called out that he was ii dead man ; and the holy fatlier advancing with his breviary and crucifix, Harolde re- marked that the surgeon was more neces- sary, who coming from a distance, exami- ned the wound, and declared it was not mortal, no vital part having been touched Harolde shook hands with him, and hi was carried away in the litter ; whilst hij seconds remained on the ground, and, ac cording to the custom of the country drew up an account of the duel for th^ public journals, annexing a certificate, that every thing had been fair and honourably conducted, which was signed by all the seconds. Thuj 123 Thus ended Ilaroldc's first essay in the field of* mistaken honour, and they arrived at the cottage before the hour dinner had been ordered. Agnes burst into tears of joy at tlieir safe return ; she had been in a state of dreadful suspense, for doubting the truth of what Harolde said before he left the cottage, she had put on her cloak, and in- quired at the castle gate for Lieutenant Danvers, where she was told he had not been since morning, and had sent a mes- sage, to say he would not return until evening parade. The remainder of the day passed in har- mony ; Danvers shewed Harolde two let- ters from the Countess Bonvilliers, speak- ing in the warmest terms of his generosity, and hinting, that should her nephew see milord, to tell him she was going to take G 2 the 124 the baths at Cette, next summer, and re side at Marseilles duriiit^ the winter This determined Harolde to travel in i contrary direction : he remembered the Countess with pleasure; butabsence,chang( of place, and change of face, had wrougln a change in his heart, and he wished nov^ to consider her only in the light of a deai friend, and he could only do so by avoid ing personal contact with her in future. , Printed accounts of this duel were dis- tributed next day through all the palace: of nobility, and fashionable coffee-house: in Naples, the Marquis's friends taking care to extol his courage to the skies Harolde's design of remaining concealec was completely frustrated by this, and hi: door inundated by the English, fronr the ambassador down to the mercliant wh( 125 who came to congratulate him on his tri- umph. To llarolde it was no source of congra- tulation ; he abhorred the custom of at- tempting a man's life in cool blood, and thouirht it " more honoured in the breach than the observance," where it could be done without disgrace. To avoid inquiries on a subject he wished to forget, he threw himself, Agnes, and suite, into a felucca, and sailed that evening for the island of Caprea, leaving word at his cottage that he was not going to return before the fol- lowing winter. A few days would suf- fice to cool curiosity, and then he could privately return to his cottage, for which Agnes had a singular attachment, probably as being the spot endeared to her by the first lessons of love, which she received from his lips, the only ones of the sex she G 3 had 126 liad ever pressed since she parted from her^ father and brotlier. \ The distance to the island of Caprea is not more than half-a-dozen hours sail; but there was little wind, and the felucca was totally becalmed, in the centre of the Bri- tish squadron. CHAI 12' CHAP. IV My love ia like the sun, that tlirough the skies doth run. And always is constant and true ; Some take lo% e from the moon, that wanders up and down. And every month it is new. Martsll. British fleet at anchor. — Harolde entertained by Lord Nelson. — A salute. — Nelson's frankness. — View between decks. — Grog. — Night. — Morning. — The British Ambassador and Lady Hamil- ton. — Very odd appearance of Sir William Hamilton — his fol- ly and indecency. — Great abilities of his lady — account of her person — her levity and raasculiue air. — Harolde's description of Lord Nehtvi. — A sporting monarch. — Notice of King Ferdi' nand. — Nelson's opinion of him and the lieir apparent. — A sai- lor's ball. — Harolde half-seas over. — News of war. — Harolde sails for Gibraltar— anchors and lands. — Sickness of i4^e5.— Removal to Lisbon. — Abode at Cintra. — The village pastor. — A sick oflicer. — Surprise of Harolde 'm meeting Henry Styles. — Harolde's visit to General Moore. — A wish to be a soldier. — Singular letter from the Padre Josef. — Harolde jillcd by Agnes, who marries Styles — sends them to the devil. — Kmbarks at Oporto— lands at Ramsgatc. — Parts with Freeman. — Meets Sir o 4 George 128 j I George Iloutll and Miss WtUbank on liis way.— Rt'trogr«dt; ! movement. — Arrives in Lomlon.— Marries Miss Wellhank.— Sliort joys. — Long brawls. — Lady Uaroldc\ ill temper. — Free- \ man a peacemaker.— Disappointments of the Baronet. — Made I n butt of by Havolde. — Sows discord betwixt man and wife. — Symptoms (»f jtaloiisy. — Tunbridgc Wells. — A meddling dow- ager. — Harolde patronizes the players. — A high quarrrl. — Sus- picions o( H oroide's continence. — Takes an actress into bis car- ; riage. — A storm abroad and a storm at home. — Harolde returns to London alone. — Lady i/aroWc follows — discovers him with a lady in the library — quits his house with her daughter. — , End of the romance of wedlock. — My native land, good night. — j Harolde resolves never again to see England. — " Amor patritt" — an adieu. — Voyage through the Bay of Biscay. — Leaves the packet near Cape Finistcrre. — Arrives at the island of Elba. — ^ Purchases a pleasure yacht. — Meets with a stranger— his rays- \ terions appearance— olTers liini a passage to Malta— curious particulars of the stranger. i As tlie sun sunk beneath the ocean, leaving behind a halo of heavenly glory, the even- ) ing gun from the Admiral's ship, announ- ' ced that the duties of the day were at an ^ end. The flags were lowered, and the \ bands of music, playing old English tunes, sounded | 129 sounded from the decks of Britannia's ocean bulwarks. A boat, with an officer on board, came along-side the felucca, with a message, that the Admiral observing ladies on board, invited them to pass an hour in his ship, until the land breeze en- abled them to proceed further in their voy- age. " Pray who is your Admiral, sir?" " Lord Nelson." " I do not know him," replied Harolde. " Yes, I do ; every Briton knows Nelson. — What say you, Agnes? will you be in- troduced to the hero of the Nile?" They were all delighted with the idea of seeing a man, the glory of his country, and the terror of all her enemies. Count Danvers, who was of the party, jocosely said — " Though he has beat us often * single handed,' I am sure his single G 5 hand 130 I hand will in peace be extended in friend- ship to a Frenchman." They entered the boat, and were soon alongside of the flag-ship. The accommo- I dation-laddcr, or staircase, gave them an easy ascent to tlie quarter-deck, where Nelson received them, with the frank po- liteness of a true British tar. He wel- j corned them on board in French, to which j Harolde replied in English, and told his ' name. : Nelson threw his arm round his neck | with rapture, exclaiming to his officers — | " Gentlemen, let me introduce you, one | and, all to Lord Harolde, of whom you j have all read, and who has just run a mar- | quis through the body, for the sake of this young lady, I suppose, whom I must sa- , lute, since I find she is under the protec- i tion of English colours." Agnes, 131 Agnes, covered with blushes, received a hearty smack from the Admiral ; she un- derstood no language but her own, but was satisfied that Harolde looked so well pleased. Nelson then shook hands with Free- man and the Count, and chucking the at- tendant of Agnes under the chin, wel- comed her also (this was the faithful girl who accompanied her mistress from the palace of Santo Freere). The party pro- ceeded over the ship with Nelson, having declined refreshment ; and Nelson pressed them so warmly, they consented to re-^ main on board all night. They were all struck with the greatest surprise, at the order, regularity, and neat- ness, which pervaded every part of this huge machine, destined to — c 6 «* Bear 132 ** hear nrilannia's tliundiis o'er the wave, In <»carch of viciory, <»r u glorious grave." The singular appearance of the sailors' births, betwixt the guns, where their mot- ley-painted shelves were filled with china, and the tables spread for supper, with clean napkins, and wooden bowls smoking with roast beef, attracted their attention; and Harolde inquired what was the use ol a large wooden can, with bright copper hoops, that stood at the end of every table. " Those," said Nelson, " are grog cans, containing every man's evening allowance. You shall taste sailors' grog in true style. — Here, Jack, fill out some grog in your mess drinking horn." , A smart-looking sailor, who had been cook to that mess for the day, with awk- i ward })oliteness, handed a shining horn of grog 133 grog to Agnes, and " hoped her ladyship's honour would just wet lier li})s witli a toothful;' Harolde explained to her this recpiest, with which she complied ; and having drank himself, to the health of Nelson and all his gallant crew, with the Admiral's leave, he announced his intention of present- ing the crew with a pipe of wine next day, to drink the King's health. This intelligence was received with three cheers, fore and aft, loud enough to crack the drum-ears of Frenchmen, and which terrified poor Agnes nearly out of her senses. Supper was spread in the Admiral's cabin most elegantly ; no dining-room could be more convenient ; the sideboard groaned under the plate, and every luxury Naples so amply affords, to court the eye and 134 and the palate, was served up in profusion. Several of the officers were invited, and the band played during the repast. Nelson had ordered cabins to be pre- pared for his guests, who retired late to bed, and rose early to breakfast. Sea- baked muffins, rolls, and pastry, were novelties to our wanderers, and Agnes did the honours of the breakfast- table ; the Admiral observing, that in a short time he would find her a companion, his friend. Lady Hamilton, being expected to din- ner, to which they must stay. Harolde was curious to see this lady, of whom he had heard so much, and ac- cepted the invitation : indeed, as his ob- ject was to be out of the way to receive compliments from intruders at Naples, he could not be more secure from them any where than on board ship, and therefore made 185 made himself happy : he dispatched his felucca to the shore, which returned laden with fruit, vegetables, and a pipe of excel- lent Lachrijinoc Christi, a wine made from the grapes that grow on Mount Vesuvius, and highly prized at Naples. To tliis he had added, for every mess, a good allowance of tea and sugar, articles prized by sailors equal to grog. At twelve o'clock, the ambassador ar- rived, accompanied by his lady. She in- stantly recognised Agnes, with whose fa- mily she had been intimate, and tenderly embraced her, making no inquiries as to her present situation, such connexions be- ing considered venial sins in Italy, and not excluding those who commit them from any society. Harolde was overwhelmed by her Lady- ship's attentions, so that Sir William Ha- milton 136 milton was nearly overlooked in the pro- fusion of compliments passing. Leaving the two together, Ilarolde walked on the poop with Lord Nelson, and his friends were entertained by tlie officers. Sir William ran about every where, chatter- ing like a magpie to all he met. As the poop of a man of war commands a view of the whole ship's deck, a descrip- tion of some particular personages may be amusing, as described to Harolde by Nel- son. — Sir William Hamilton was tall in person, with a fine Roman nose, and thin face wrinkled with age : he wore a bag wig, after the old school of George the Third's early days, well powdered ; his stock was fastened by a diamond buckle, round a lank and skinny neck ; a splendid brooch kept a frill of rich lace in order ; his coat of blue silk, with diamond but- tons, 137 tons, was, with the waistcoat, of court-dress cut, and gorgeously w^orked with gold and silver flowers ; ruffles dangled over his fingers' ends ; the small-clothes were the same colour of his coat ; white silk stockings, pumps, and gold buckles, and a sword with a hilt of the same metal, completed the singular dress of this sin- gular character. In his hand he held " a pouncet-box, which ever and anon he gave his nose," and handed to all near him. He walked very infirm, and was anxious to be thought much younger than he really was. In his conversation he was loose, silly, and obscene. To him Pope's couplet could be well applied : — Irani j'Jl-nI \\uril> admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense. The language of youthful depravity is doubly 138 doubly disgusting when flowing from the lips of age : his indelicacy was not checked by the presence of his wife or any other female. He appeared to consider it one of an ambassador's privileges to chatter obscenity, and expect it to be taken for wit. No one would have taken him for the man whose talents made him a mem- ber of the Royal Society, and whose ele- gant manners and sterling sense recom- mended him to an embassy he had dis- charged ably for many years. At this time, he was doating — in a state of second child- hood. His lady, for years, had done all the official duties of his high station, open- ing and answering dispatches, commu- nicating with foreign courts, and with- out ever consulting him. It was to this active employment she owed her intima- cy with Nelson, who consulted her on all his 139 his proceedings, and often declared it was owing to her he gained the victory of the Nile. Lady Hamilton had reached her for- tieth lustrum, but w^as still an uncommon handsome woman — quite en bon pointy inclining to corpulence ; a clear skin and fine natural rosy complexion ; eyes black and sparkling ; hair light and exuberant ; bust remarkably fine, and figure not in- elegant, though much too stout for per- fection of symmetry in its proportions : her looks inspired love ; her smile stole away all hearts, and the sorcery of con- versation she possessed in an eminent de- gree. The levity of this lady's manner did not suit the temperament of Harolde ; he looked to women for the more retiring virtues : at a future period, when asked by 110 by liis friend Freeman what he thouf^ht of her understanding — " It is," said 11a- rolde, " truly masculine :" — " And her person, my Lord ?" — *' The same." Harolde was also requested to describe Lord Nelson, as he had seen him, and he did so in nearly the following words : — " He was a very mean-looking little man, with a peculiar twist in his lips, and a very keen eye : his person was slender but active : lie tripped about briskly, but with paddling short steps, as if in the fidgets about every thing. The first im- pression his looks made, were unfavour- able : he seemed ready to snarl at you, or bite your nose off: his countenance looked like that of one who had been tipsy over- night and slept with his clothes on — and his face always appeared as though he never washed it. His language had none of 141 of the sailor in it ; he scarcely made use of a sea phrase : he never was heard to s\N car — h)ved a joke, and laughed at very bad ones most immoderately : lie was very mild in his disposition ; his voice soft and musical ; his manners open and unembarrassed : his pride was not enough for his station, and his ear was open to receive the grossest flattery : he loved his l)ottle, his friend, and iiis lass ; in his cuj)^, he delighted ' to fight his battles o'er again,' and disgusted by the repe- tition ; when steady, he never mentioned them : he spoke ungrammatically : he had little scholastic learning, but a very strong mind : what Doctor Johnson called ' a stubborn inkneed understanding :' he was obstinate in his opinions, and they were generally right : he was both a weak and a wise man." Whilst 142 \Vhilst Ilaroldc was engaged on the jK)op in conversation with the Admiral, a boat approached the fleet, from which a person was firing at seagulls, wliich he never missed. ** Behold," said Nelson, " Ferdii^and the King ; he is at his constant sport — every day you may see him thus occupied. That Neapolitan frigate, with a standard at the mast-head, he lives on board of; he is afraid to land, as the French troops have not all evacuated the city, and he cannot trust his own people. In my opinion, a few weeks will send him back to Sicily ; for I am ordered here in expec- tation of a war, when the enemy will re- occupy all the kingdom. He is coming on board. We only receive him as a pri- vate gentleman : he hates ceremony, and every other thing but sporting." The 143 The boat, a plain one, rowing six oars, glided along-side. The Admiral, Lady Ha- milton, and the officers, received his Ma- jesty, who graciously took off his hat, and made an awkward bow. Poking his nose into Harolde's face, he inquired who he was, and invited him to come on board his frigate, and bring any of his followers whom he wished to have knighted with him. He then walked into the cabin to take refreshment. Ferdinand was a tall, bony, awkward figure, dressed in a plain, coarse, brown coat, and leather gaiters on his legs. His features were inanimate, dull, and vacant : he would have passed in London for a booby of Yorkshire, just arrived from clod-hopping. His stay was very short ; and he went as he came, with- out ceremony. Nelson rejoiced at his departure ; he was 144 was so troublesome, asking a hundred questions, the replies to which he could not comprehend, and wearying by repeti- tions. " If this," said Harolde, " be a speci- men of your Bourbon kings, thank God, who has given us the Guelphic race !" " George the Third is a good man," said the Admiral. " And," added Harolde, " his son and heir is a gentleman." " It is more than I can say of the here- ditary Prince of Naples, for he has neither mind nor manners." With this remark the Admiral descended, followed by Harolde, and joined the ladies. The crew were all in motion, the boat- swain having piped for all hands to go to dinner : some were vociferating " Scald- ings !" as they jumped down the ladders with 145 with bowls of hot soup ; others witli puddings in bags, or baking-dishes ; whilst many, more cautious, stepped deliberate- ly along with cans of grog, or rum and water, of which every one had a pint al- lowed for his dinner. When the scene of masticating was over, all hands were busied in spreading an awning over the deck, beneath which the band struck up, and at once a dozen sets commenced country dances ; the offi- cers. Lady Hamilton, and others, joining in the merry go-round. Harolde's pipe of wine was tapped, and the day passed mer- rily, ending in long stories and sea songs. The Admiral gave a splendid dinner, at which all the captains in his squadron were present ; these he called his " Fire-eaters." So many bumper-toasts were drank, that when Harolde proposed taking leave in VOL. I. H the 146 i I the evening, liis head turned round like al mill, and he was fain to remain one night; longer on board. It was well that he did,! for the following day a ship of war arrived,^ bearing the declaration of war betwixt' France and England, who had quarrelledj about retaining possession of Malta, wherd Nelson declared that he would as soon see; the tri-coloured flag on the Tower of Lon-j don, as on the fortifications of La Valettc. It was not safe now for Harolde to land ;| his duel had made him known as ani Englishman, or he could have passed foFj an American, as he once intended. j The island of Caprea was taken poshes-; sion of by Nelson's marines that very day ; but he had no wish to reside in such ai confined place, nor any wish to sail withi Nelson to Toulon, where lie hoped either to fight or blockade the enemy's fleet. It; wasi 147 was necessary also, on account of his pri- vate affairs, which had been unsettled for some time, that he sliould make his way to England, so he accepted of a passage in the vessel which returned with a reply to the dispatches. Count Dan vers, thougli a Frenchman, Nelson permitted to join his regiment at Naples ; and he promised to write to Ha- rolde by the time he supposed him to have reached England. Agnes wept as the land of her nativity receded from her view, though behind her she had not left one she could call a friend. A strong gale carried them in a few days to Gibraltar, where sea-sickness had so much exhausted the delicate frame of Ag- nes, that Harolde landed, and took a house on Europa Point, to remain till she re- covered. H 2 The 148 The garrison was all life and animation hoping to march against the French, who it was understood, had invaded Spain witl a powerful army. The enemy made suci rapid jirogress in the conquest of Spain that in two months the Spanish army o Valentia were driven for security unde shelter of the guns of Gihraltar. Agnes recovered very slowly ; and Ha rolde again tried the effect of a change u air, removing first to Cadiz, and thence t< Lisbon. At Cintra he occupied a nea cottage in a delightful valley, watered b; a gentle stream, over whose borders Hygei herself seemed to preside. British troop were landing daily at Lisbon, and march ing through Portugal to Spain, but wer stopped in their progress by that countr joining France in the combination agains England. 1 On 149 One evening, when Harolde was em- ployed in reading " Tasso's Jerusalem" to Agnes, the village pastor called, to request that his English friend would lend him some medicines from his chest, to which Harolde gave him welcome access when any of his flock were ill ; for he was doc- tor of both bodies and souls. " They are," said Father Joseph, " for a young English officer, who has taken a lodging next door to me ; he was wound- ed in some engagement near Gibraltar, where he had been employed on a par- ticular service with the Spanish troops : he joined his regiment at lisbon ; but his health being injured, he has a month's leave of absence to recruit his strength. Harolde, who adhered to his resolution made when he set out on his travels, to have as little intercourse with his own coun- II 3 trymen 150 trymen as possible, felt anxious about thi^ young man, of whom the jmd re S{x>ke sol favourably ; and deputed Agnes to go and see that he wanted for nothing, and offer him any thing his house could afford, Agnes, on her return, reported that he wanted not any thing but ease to effect a! complete cure — and that he wished muchi to see Haroldc, whom he had known when! a boy. Four years in the advancing days of youth, make strange alterations. Harolde was some time before he could discover, in the manly form and sun-tanned features of the young soldier, his old school-fellow,; Henry Styles, the brother of his beloved jNIary. Upon this recognition he was agitated even to tears. Henry had heard of his sister's deatlij but no particulars of her connexion with Harolde,! i 151 Harolde, beyond the reports in the village; for she had not left her father's house, when Harolde procured him a commission, and he sailed for the Contuient. Harolde, for reasons which need not be explained, kept him in the dark, and threw no light upon so very painful a portion of his own early history. Henry was a lieutenant of cavalry, and bore ample testimonials of his brave conduct, from his superior offi- cers. He remained in his lodging, but lived with Harolde every day. Tavo months elapsed, and Henry's health was still unsettled. Harolde applied for a re- newal of his leave of absence, and recom- mended him in such high terms to the brave, though unfortunate Sir John JMoore, that he promoted him to a captaincy in a regiment quartered at Lisbon. General Moore was a countryman of Harolde's, H 4 and 152 and they were acquainted; but Harolde valued Moore from his being a distant rehition of his mother. Agnes was now perfectly restored, and Henry gone to join his regiment at Lis- bon ; so that with Freeman he set out on a visit to the General at head-quarters. Agnes, who possessed a weak mind, had grown religious of late, and had more than once hinted at some scruples she en- tertained for the salvation of her soul, if she continued to live in a state of concu- binage with Harolde. Padre Josef had put these things in her head, and as they made her mope and be melancholy, Ha- rolde's home became a little irksome: he resolved to try what effect absence would have upon her. She wept bitterly when he bade her adieu. Henry promised, from time to time, to visit the cottage, and see that 153 that all went on favourably ; the padre, an old man of seventy, also volunteered to act as her father, during Harolde's absence* The British army were in motion near Madrid, and liarolde received the kindest greeting from its noble General. The scene was new to him, and possessing some sparks of military ardour, he at- tended the General in several engage- ments, and had his favourite horse shot under him. The admonitions of Freeman only prevented him from entering the army. Freeman thought it madness, in a nobleman with five thousand pounds a- year, to become a cornet of horse; and he knew Harolde's temper so well, that he foresaw what he now delighted in, as soon as it became a duty, would feel disagree- able; and his impetuous disposition, un- able to submit to command, might force H 5 him 154 him to quit the service in no very credit- able way. To the counsels of Freeman we are indebted for The Amours of Childe Harolde, whose bones might long ago have been left on the Pyrenees, whitening in tlic summer's sun. During a campaign of three months' duration, Harolde sent and received several affectionate letters from Agnes and Henry. All the next month Henry never wrote, and the letters of Agnes became so dis- tant and formal, he apprehended a change, not favourable to him, in her sentiments, was taking place. He wrote back rather sharply; but another month elapsed, and he received no reply. He had just re- solved to return to Lisbon, when the Ge- neral put a packet into his hands ; it was from Padre Josef, to this purport. " Cintray 155 " Cintra, praised be God . <( MY GREAT LORD, " Madame Agnes having a soul to be saved, I deemed it my duty to put her in the right way. Soon after you left, she resolved to leave you, and return to God. I got the archbishop to absolve her from all her sins. Captain Henry was very kind to her, and she took my advice ; (for I was afraid at your return, you would again tempt her to sin, and her last situa- tion be worse than the first.) I married them in my chapel ; she is gone to Lisbon with her husband. All your things are safe in the cottage ; she has not even taken away her wearing apparel ; she desires me to say, she will always pray for you as her H 6 best 156 best friend. God make my Lord a good Christian. " Your obedient servant, " Padre Josef." Harolde, when lie concluded this de- lectable epistle, turned up his eyes to lieaven, and whistled a lillabullero as loud and as long as ever my Uncle Toby did, when taken at a nonplus. He then changed his note, singing — " She's inconstant as the moon, That wanders up and down, And her love it is every inon^Ii new." Freeman, who just entered the tent, had the letter thrust into his hand ; and Harolde, taking his hat, without saying a word, 157 word, left him to ponder over its contents. — ** A good riddance," said Freeman, " and joy go with them both." Harolde took a gallop round the lines of the army, drank a few bumpers of claret at the mess, and returned to his tent with a heart much about as indifferent as though he had never seen Agnes in his life. Calling for a bottle of wine, he re- lated to his friend his early intrigue with Mary, the sister of Henry Styles — " And now," he continued, " as I did his family some injury, he has returned the obliga- tion, and we are square — I owe him no- thing. Write you to Friar Josef; bid him give the lease of the house, and all that it contains, to Agnes, and then — bid them both go to the devil, for what I care. I shall go towards England imme- diately. 158 diately, and not fall in love again for this tvvelvemonth to come." Freeman performed his task nearly in the words given ; and bidding adieu to the General and warfare, the two friends em- biirked at Oporto, and landed safe at liamsgate, after an absence of two years and a half Freeman stopped in London with his friends, but Ilarolde passed through on his way to Scotland ; he halted at York for a few days, and in the coffee-room met his old friend, Sir George Howell. He was alone, and heartily glad of the rencounter, for he wanted any one in the shape of a friend to commune with. Sir George took him to liis lodgings to supper, and he w^as agreeably surprised to fmd there his old young favourite, Miss Wellbank, who screamed and fainted with terror and sur- prise. 159 prise. He caught her in his arms, and fanned her into existence. She looked very fooUsh, and he very kind, and both stammered out something which meant, if interpreted, they were glad to see each other. During the evening, it turned out that Sir George and his niece had been visiting her estates in the north, and were pro- ceeding by easy journeys to London. Harolde now found out that he had no oc- casion to go to Scotland, but had better send for his steward to meet him in Lon- don, and arrange the leasing of his estates ; this Sir George also thought best, and of- fered him a seat in his carriage. The reunited trio made an excursion to the Lakes ; and arriving in London, Harolde purchased a magnificent mansion near Hyde Park Corner, into which, in a few days. IGO days, he carried from the altar the fair Miss WcUbank as liis bride. Tilings done in haste are often repented at leisure; and in matrimonial cases, it is ten to one that happiness attends a rapid union of young people. Freeman was not consulted on this important business, or it is probable he would have told some truths as to the lady's temper, which would have made his friend pause before he took the lover's leap; but the thing was done, and Freeman congratulated the happy couple most cordially from his heart. Tlie lady did not receive him as the best friend her husband had; she blamed him, very unjustly, for having carried Harolde away to the Continent, and thought, that had he been with him at York, she would not now have been Lady Harolde. Harolde, 161 Haroldc, for a time, was the happiest ** dog in England," seldom going abroad except in his lady's company, and that not so often as she wished. The name and fame of her husband caused her to be desirous of shewing him to every one, and herself as the choice of one at whom so many caps had been set. Harolde was addicted to study, and those evenings she wished to dash abroad, in a manner to which her fortune entitled her, he chose to be locked up with his books; mutual bickerinsjs ensued; and the breakfast-table was often a scene of warm remonstrance on the lady's part, and cool, sarcastic re- pulsion on his. The friends of Harolde, who were not numerous, were ill received by her Lady- ship, and she frequently refused to preside at table when they were invited, for no other 1G2 other reason than to mortify her husband, who " bore his faculties meekly" on such disagreeable occasions. Freeman, though no favourite of the lady, visited oftener than any other, and with the frankness of a long-tried friend, often interfered, and prevented matters from going to foolish extremities. His honest zeal gained upon the heart of the lady, and she condescend- ed at last to acknowledge him as a friend, who meant well to them both. But Free- man's time was greatly taken up at his chambers in the Temple, studying the law, which he intended to make his pro- fession ; and he seldom went to his friends that he had not the painful task to re- concile some difference, or prevent it oc- currhig. Sir George Howell was disappointed in the views he had from this match : ambi- tious 163 tioiis of sliining at court, he looked to ITa- rolde as the ladtler by which he was to ascend near tlie throne. But Ilarolde, al- though a favourite with his prince, he ne- ver appeared before him, except on very particular days, to shew his duty and loy- alty. He refused to introduce Sir George at the levee, who was turned over to the lord in waiting, like a county sheriff, or a borough alderman ; and this the baronet never forgave. He was an extensive spe- culator in money transactions ; the funds and East India House furnished him with constant employment, and he panted still for more. He expected Harolde to have recommended him to all his noble friends, whose wants stood in need of a cashier; and he looked forward, through this new connexion, to a peerage himself, at no re- mote period. Harolde 164 Harolde held the understanding of Sir George in contempt, and indulging in that sarcastic vein, wliich when he pleased he could pour forth so as to render any one he selected for a hutt appear ridiculous, lie often made tlie haronet a laughing- stock to his com})any, deluging him with a stream of playful satire, which he took for high compliments, till some one ex- plained their real meaning, and excited his indignation. My Lady, partial to her uncle, saw through this, and often took his part, more imprudently than wisely, and with more daring than discretion. Sir George had been in France, settling some mercantile affairs, at a time when the wily Napoleon was tampering with some silly English lords in his power, to carry messages of insidious import to the first personages in England. In the up- per 165 per and lower houses there was consider- able stir made respecting these verbal and written messages, and the bringers w^re blamed and praised alternately by their enemies or friends. Sir George, conceiv- ing himself alluded to in one of tiiese give* and-take debates, rose in his place in the lower house, and declared, " upon his ho- nour, that Napoleon had never consulted him (when he was in France) about ma- king overtures of peace to the British go- vernment." This silly assertion, from a man whose ignorance was proverbial, and whose in- significance was a barrier to his ever com- ing within " ear-shot" of Napoleon, caused a loud and long laugh in the house, and made the baronet almost sink into his seat with shame and vexation. On the day following this exhibition, Haroldc 166 Haroldc took Sir George severely to task, repeating — " You are not content with the eclat of being a fool amongst your friends, but you must let all the world know it also." In a few days a satirical poem appeared, cutting up the baronet most unmercifully. He placed it to the account of Harolde's malignity, and never entered his doors, or spoke to him again. From that day the baronet took every means his meanness could devise, to sow discord betwixt Ha- rolde and his niece, and succeeded too well. The splendid talents of Harolde threw him into the society of literary men, and in some public establishments he under- took to be the joint arbiter elcgantiarum of fashionable amusements ; consequently his acquaintances, male and female, in- creased ; 1()7 creased; and my Lady, who early in the honeymoon had shewn strong symptoms of a jealous disposition, now openly ac- cused him of attachments to other women, mentioning by name many he had never heard of nor seen. Too proud to conde- scend justifying his character from such vile slanders, he heard them with a smile that might be construed into hardened guilt, or obstinate innocence; and thus the lady was left to rave in the dilemma of doubt and despair. Freeman counselled a change of scene, and in his company they set off to Tun- bridge Wells, and opened house in a style iK^coming their rank in society. Lady Harolde for a time was restored to good humour; and the world, judging from external appearances, pronounced them a happy couple. The 168 The leading character this season at Tunbridge was Lady Shallow well, a dow- ager of fortune and deep intrigue, who meddled with every one's concerns, and made mischief wherever she meddled. This dame took Lady Harolde under her wing, and soon made her completely mi- serable. Harolde patronised a company of co- medians, then on a summer excursion, and was often an attendant behind the scenes, deigning to give those he valued most for their performances his instruc- tions. He made no secret of what he did — meaning no harm, he dreaded no enemy. One of the actresses, a lady of some beauty, and great talents, prevailed upon him to patronise her benefit. He admired her merits, and did it so effectually, that the 169 the house on her night was the fullest du- v'mcr the whole season. Lady Shallow^well resolved not to he outdone in her patronage, and also put her name to a bill, announcing the benefit of a performer, whose claims to public sup- port were very slender indeed. The cur- tain drew up to a very poor audience, and in the boxes were scarce any one but her own party, amongst whom was Lady Ha- rolde. Whether or not Harolde had dis- suaded his friends from going, to mortify the dowager, remains a secret : certain it is, that neither himself nor any of his circle appeared that night. The dowager threw the blame upon Harolde, and made his lady believe that the insult was levelled at her, to shew that he not only neglected her, but would cause the world to do so likewise. Weak and passionate, she as- voL. I. I sailed 170 sailed her husband with the usual batte- ries of censure and tears, hysterics and fainting fits. But he, as usual, disdained to say a word to satisfy her. The dowager had a phalanx of old tab- bies on her side, and the town soon echoed with a tale of Harolde's infidelity. The lady whose benefit he had superintended, was pointed out as his chere amie, and a circumstance occurred which gave a co- lourable appearance to the far-spread lines of this dark picture. Harolde was returning over the heath to Tunbridge, from a visit of two days to a friend's house in the neighbourhood, whither his lady had refused to accompa- ny him. Near the further extremity of the heath, about twilight, he met this identical actress he had patronized, with her infant in her arms, standing under a tree 171 tree for shelter from the rain, which I'cll in torrents, accompanied with flashes of light- ning. It would have been cruelty to see a dog exposed to such " pelting of the pi- tiless storm," and not have sheltered him. He ordered the driver to stop, and gave the lady a })lace in his carriage. The storm cleared away as they entered the town, and the lady requested permission to alight, to which Harolde assented, and handed her out. Opposite where the car- riage stopped, was the house of a friend to the old dowager, at which Lady Ha- rolde had spent the day. The circum- stance of a carriage stopping, as it were at the door, brought the party to the win- dows, and the lynx eyes of Lady Shallow- well discovered Harolde, and at a very unfortunate time : the servant of the ac- tress had come to meet her mistress with 1 2 an 172 an umbrella, and found her getting outoi' the carriage : she took the child and \valk> ed on, whilst the lady remained to thank Harolde for his polite attention. At this instant Lady Harolde was called to the window, and saw with her own eyes what certainly looked like a corroboration of all the tales she had heard against her hus- band. After the usual tempest of passion had subsided into a deceitful calm, she ordered her carriage, and drove home, ac- companied by the dowager. She sent her compliments to her husband, and re- quested to speak to him in the drawing- room. He came down, and was taxed with his base conduct, the story being re- lated with all due solemnity; to which Ha- rolde only replied, " tliat had her Ladyship sent for him alone, as she ought to have done. 173 done, he would have satisfied her there WHS no truth in the suspicions she enter- tained; as she had brought a witness to her folly, he would leave them to cogitate together." Lady Harolde fainted, to which he paid no attention ; but taking his hat, walked out of the house to the inn, ordered a post- chaise, and drove up to London. The agitation brought on a serious fit of illness, which confined Lady Harolde to her bed for a week: her husband was written to by the attending physicians, but he paid no attention to the letters, nor ever opened them, as they were found unopened on the chimney-piece by the lady, when she came to town. From this time Lady Harolde resolved not to live wdth her husband after her ac- couchementy w^hich would soon take place, I 3 and 174 and for political reasons, she wished it to be under her lord's roof. When she arrived in town he received her kindly, nor once opened his lips as to the past. She was safely delivered of a daughter; and no husband ever shewed greater solicitude for a wife, than he did before and after the event : he became quite domesticated — spent all his days at home, and appeared to doat on his child. The resolution Lady Harolde had made at Tun bridge she persevered in keeping, but put it off from day to day ; so that had Freeman, who left them at Tunbridge, been present, it is probable no separation would ever have taken place. Although the real facts of Harolde's meeting with the actress, and her having a child with her, were told to Lady Ha- rolde, she would not attach any credit to them, 175 them, preferring the evidence of her own eyes; and her Tunbridge friends — fiends they should be called — plied her with letters, giving a hundred particulars, all false and abominable. Obstinacy was a fault in both parties, and pride, that scorned to yield, rankled in their hearts. Time had weakened the impressions made by the Tunbridge seem- ing faux-pas, and Lady Harolde v/ished for a more recent excuse to leave her hus- band, though her uncle urged her to quit his house immediately. Late one even- ing she was informed that a lady was lock- ed in the library with her husband ; and hurrying down, she found the first part of the tell-tale's story untrue ; the door was not locked, but stood ajar: her ladyship walked in, eyed both parties, and retired in silence. I 4 The 176 Tlie lady, who had passed the time of lilc lor inspiring sentiments of a tender nature, and had called upon business rela- tive to a ])ublic establishment, over which Harolde had some control, appeared sur- prised. When she retired, Harolde sup- ped, and went to bed. On his breakfast-table he found a note from Lady Harolde, stating, " that she had left him, and for ever." He took his breakfast very coolly, and sending for the housekeeper, he ordered her to pack up all her Lady's things of every description, even her bed-room furniture, and send it to Sir George Howell's. Harolde waited till his friend Freeman arrived from the country, through whom he made proposals to Lady Harolde to re- turn ; but her resolutions were like the laws of the Medes and Persians, not to be altered ; 177 altered ; and he reluctantly resigned her up, with his little daughter, never hoping to see either of them again. The romance of wedlock being over, Harolde turned his attention to another clime : all his faults had, in his native land, been multiplied into crimes; the only woman he ever truly loved had left him, and the child of his idolatry was destined to be brought up a stranger to its father. Every object reminded him of departed joys, that never could return; and as a first step towards emigration, he sold his estate in Scotland, and his house in town. His steady friend Freeman agreed to accompany him, and help to mi- tigate his afflictions amongst — '* The isles of Greece — the isles of Greecf, Where burning Sappho lov'd and sang." 1 5 They 178 They embarked at Falmouth, and Ha- rolde hade his ** native land good night," never to behold the sun dawn upon it again. Hitherto the life of Harolde had been a romantic vision of joy and cnre, neither of them very lasting ; that is, they left no lasting impression of joy or care on his mind : the only real shock he ever en- dured was the last ; it gave a bias to his thoughts, and set them wandering, never more to be settled. He was now ever in extremes, either " as gentle as the un- weaned lamb," or — " Impetuous as the bolt of heaven, \\ ing'd with red hlazes, and by lightDinjiS 'cr the bounillest ocean roamiivj. What hojt hi>|>i- In do wiUi me; Life's day haMcninf; to the gloaming. ^'^t no (lawn of peace I mx. Knibarkation of the Cavalier and his (laughter — the former** un- t-asiiK'ss. — Straits of Plcnosa. — Anecdote of NeUtm, — Garb of tlic stranger — looks of his daughter — declares lii>, name lu be litniardo, and his country Greece. — A lively French girl. — Horrid -I(X)king black " Lainska," in the confidence of ibe cavalier. — A rigid father — confusion ol the daughter. — Ha- roldc's opinion in favour of a monarchical government, and respect for the laws. — Midnight interview with Scarpa, cap- tain of the yacht — he announces that a murdt rcr is on board — hiH reasons for suspecting " Lamtka" the black. — liis tale of honor. — Bernardo detected listening to no good of hiiu^elf. — Kisolulion t(i bring llic nuirdtrers to justice at Malta. — Bi r- nardo taken ill — calls his daughter by her name " Bercntcf'' — her distraction— her horror at sight of " Lamtka." — Lovers' looks. — Short questions and answers. — Bernardo recovers. — A lenijMJst. — Bentnrdo's fears.— They take shclfr in the port ui Larapedosa, 195 L4in[>«dosa. it rock in the oce*it.— The bailifToftbt; i»le coroei ou board. — Bernardo lands with his daughter and his treasure. —The yacht under sail. — Mysterious disappearance of Her. nardo, Lamtka, the bailiff, and females. Tfir cavalier's luggage being securely lodged in the yacht's liold, he advanced from the pier on to the deck, leading by tlie hand a lady, dressed in decj) mourn- ing, whom he introduced as his daughter, and requested, as she was in very indiffe- rent health, that she miglit retire below. Harolde conducted them to n cabin sepa- rate from all the others, of which he i^ave the lady the key* observing it was solely for her use, and every thing on board at her disposal. She bowed, but spoke not ; and leaving her with her attendant, they returned to the deck. The cavalier wrapped his cloak around him, and sitting down on a chair, eyed the K 2 ):)roceedings 19(i proceedings of unlashing from tlic pier, and launching to sea, with looks that de- noted impatience. His dark eyes were often cast towards the shores of Tuscany, as though he dreaded the approach of some vessel from that quarter; and when the breeze carried them through the Straits of rienosa, shutting out the view of Tus- cany, he rose as if relieved from a heavy load, and paced the deck with a more cheerful countenance. The Straits of Plenosa, a small island of that name, are famous for the great Nel- son, when he passed them on his way to the Nile, having laid his ships to, and called together his captains, to give them directions how to act upon engaging the enemy. With this circumstance the ca- valier was acquainted; and no subject could be started, on which he could not descant 197 descant with fluency and elegance of lan- guage superior to his outward appearance. His garb was much the worse for wear ; the feathers in his hat drooped as from be- ing repeatedly drenched with rain ; his sword was one of the common sort, witii black ivory hilt; and the latchets of his shoes, of steel : on his fingers he wore seve- ral valuable rings, and his cloak at the neck and on the left shoulder, was fastened with diamond brooches; these were the only marks of superior fortune indicated by his dress : he was above the middle age, with a very sallow complexion — his form was muscular, and Herculean built. The lady was very tall, and elegant in figure ; she wore a flat headdress like the Andalusians, and a lace veil, which cover- ed half her face ; her complexion very fair, without any colour in her cheeks, her eyes K 3 dark 198 dark and sparkling-, and her hair glossy as that of the raven ; on her bosom she wore a diamond cross, and bracelets on each arm of gold ; round her middle a belt of morocco leather ; and her boots, embroi- dered with silver, were of Turkey leather: a settled melancholy rested on her features, and from what our travellers had observed hi so short a time, her illness did not ap- pear bodily, but that sickness of heart, which arises from hope deferred, " To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring, For wliicli joy has no biihn, and artliction no sting." Freeman reminded the cavalier, as they were enjoying their segars, tliat he had not favoured them with his name. After a little hesitation, he said — " Bernardo Jac- quelin ;" that he was a Greek native of the city of Misitra, the ancient Sparta ; he had been 199 been travelling to benefit the liealtii ot a l)eloved wife, who had died at Marseilles, and he was afraid his daugiiter would fol- low her, so mueh was she affected by the loss. This account, so materially different from what they had seen on the book at Porto Ferrajo, again threw a cloud of suspicion over the minds of the two friends. Ha- rolde himself was travelling under an as- sumed title, and so might the cavalier; but what motive could he have for chan- ging his name so recently ? If the one at Elba was an adopted fiction, why not con- tinue it ? and if the one he had given was his real name, why not have said that he had travelled under another? and it was not probable, if he had adopted a strange title, he would assume his real one at the distance of many hundred leagues from K 1 his 200 liis liome, when the inconveniences to which he was liable still continued. 'J'hat day the lady came not out of her cabin, assigning illness as the cause. The girl, who appeared attached to her mistress, behaved at times with a pertncss to Ber- nardo (for so we shall call him in future) tliat surprised, and which he put up with, though frequently biting his lip, as much as to say, that the company only prevent- ed him from shewing his displeasure. The girl was evidently of French extraction, forward and lively, except when she di- rected herself to Bernardo ; she then was pert and peevish, or sullen and rude occa- sionally ; it was plain to be seen that she bore no respect to his pei-son, and had a secret grudge for a something — guessing at the cause were useless. The valet who accompanied Bernardo was 201 was a black, and one of the ugliest Ha- rolde had ever seen. His long lanky hair augured that he was not from Africa ; his eyes, like a ferret's, were sunk under the bones of his high forehead, and he could draw the skin over so as to hide them en- tirely, which he often did when speaking to his master ; his cheeks were bloated, and his lips protruded out like too dirty red pincushions, shewing, when he " grinned horribly a ghastly smile," a set of broken fangs, like an English bull-dog; his chest was broad, the right shoulder higher than the left ; bandy legs, and large splay feet, supported this monstrous body, over which he wore a dress of black cloth, and a dag- ger in a bufF-leather belt, that served him for a knife, though to judge from ap- pearances, it had been used for more dread- ful purposes ; he bore the looks of an as- K 5 sassin, 202 sassin, and could not be looked upon with- out conveying a sensation of horror to the heart. Bernardo frequently walked on an op> posite side of the deck, and earnestly con- versed with this fellow, in a subdued tone oi' voice. Tlie freedom with which ser- vants are treated by their superiors in the eastern countries of Europe, made the two friends look upon this as a thing of course ; but speaking in a low voice, often in whispers, and in a harsh dialect, not un- derstandable to any on board, added to the mystery which seemed to envelope this stranger of two names. On the second day, the lady made her ap- pearance at the breakfast-table, and with the most engaging manners, paid her re- spects to the company. She had aban- doncxl her headdress, and part of her hair was 203 was bound in fillets round her head, part curled over her temples, and fell upon her shoulders, the left one being bare half way to the elbow; and there the black silk drapery, fastened by a pearl clasp, contrasted with her alabaster skin, was pecuHarly striking. The diamond cross she kissed before and after meals — a cere- mony used in place of crossing the face by Greek Christians. No doubt could be en- tertained of her native country ; her air, her manners, her looks, and form, were all so truly Grecian, she might have sat to a Phidias, or an Apelles, for a likeness of Venus. She spoke in the Italian language, with apparent difficulty, but always to her father in Greek. It was observed, that when this lady was in the great cabin, the black servant remained on deck ; and when she came upon deck, he either went be- K 6 low. 204 low, or to a place forward in the vessel, where he was excluded from her sight The day was peculiarly fine, and an awn- ing was spread over the deck, where the party passed their time in listening to music (tor Harolde had engaged a band at Elba), or in conversation upon various subjects. Bernardo never quitted the lady's side, so that it was quite impossible to ask any questions that might lead to a knowledge of her history. So mucli beauty and ele- gance, only attended by one servant, and strictly guarded by a father, was surpris- ing; and his anxiety to prevent her an- swering any questions, told much against him in Harold e's opinion. \Vhen Ha- rolde questioned her about Misitra, the place of her birth, according to Bernardo, she seenaed confused and at a loss, looking fearfully 205 fiearfiilly at him, as if to assist her in a di- lemma : he commonly replied for her, that she had left it very young — had been at school in one of the islands — and other trifling excuses, not to be credited by men of common observation. Harolde expatiated on his views in tra- velling ; that he proposed visiting every part of Greece — both the islands and the continent, and hoped to see them here- after at Misitra. The lady shook her head ; and Bernardo observing it, put on a frown, that caused her to hang down her head in confusion. Harolde thought he saw a tear fall on her bosom, and would have given worlds to kiss it away. Bernardo recovered his wonted serenity, and expressed the pleasure he should feel if tlie travellers came to Misitra, where his house would be ready to receive them. "It 206 " It may be," said Haroldc, " a year be- fore I can have tliat happiness, as I intend to pass next summer in Cyprus." " Cyprus !" repeated the lady, her eyes flashing with fire; " are you then going to Cyprus ? — are you going there now ?" Before Harolde could return a reply, Bernardo started up, and seizing her arm, said — " I am very unwell ; come with me down to the cabin." She turned pale, and trembled as she descended, giving Harolde a look that seemed to implore his compassion, and spoke unutterable things. When below, high words were distinctly heard, and sob- bing, as if in tears : silence then prevailed for some minutes, and Bernardo came upon deck, ordering the maid to attend upon her lady. The little French girl tossed up her head 207 head as she received the command, and with a sneering lip, turned upon her heel and descended the staircase. Bernardo apologized for his conduct, remarking that he was subject to fits of epilepsy, and supposed one of them was attacking him when he so suddenly car- ried his daughter below, who only knew how to treat him on these occasions. — " The fright it gives her is so great, that I question if it does not prevent her giving us any more of her company to-day." He spoke the latter sentence in a deci- sive tone, which forbade Harolde from ex- pecting to see her for that day, at least, again, though he determined to make an effort ; and when dinner was ready, he desired the servant to solicit the honour of her company. The message delivered by the French girl 208 girl was one peculiarly worded, and whilst she repeated it, she fixed her eyes on Ber- nardo — " My lady's compliments, and is sorry she can't attend at dinner to-day." Harolde affected not to notice the em- phasis laid upon the word cant, though he privately trod upon the toe of her who spoke it, to let her know it had not es- caped him. Bernardo, after dinner, assumed an air of gaiety, and made pretty free with his bottle ; he launched forth into humorous accounts of the different countries he had visited in his travels, contrasting the man- ners and customs of each, so as to set them in the most ridiculous light, and shew that society and manners were not materially different in London and Con- stantinople. With London he was quite conversant, and 209 and knew so many people of consequence, that Freeman guessed lie could speak English, if he chose to do so. — " He has a motive," said Freeman to himself, " for concealing his real name, and one also for affecting ignorance of the language of a country, in which he must have spent some years to know it as well as he does." The seamen, who were all Elbanians, requested j>ermission, through the master of the yacht, to have the indulgence of Harolde's band, and a dance on the fore- castle, as it was the birthday of their so- vereign, the Grand Duke. *' I commend them for their loyal spirit," replied Harolde ; and calling to his stew- ard, ordered a dozen flasks of wine, and fruit in abundance, to be distributed amongst them, desiring them to be merry and wise. AU 210 All this time they were sailing with a steady breeze, on a smooth ocean, but far out of sight of land. Bernardo observed, that he was rather surprised to liear an Englishman commend people for loyalty to a tyrant; for the Grand Duke was no more than the instrument of Napoleon Buonaparte, to oppress and fleece the Tuscans ; and that his will was the law, and that will was founded on injustice. In Elba all the courts are corrupt ; they take bribes, and cheat with impunity, re- lying on the protection of their tyrant. Harolde said — " That an obedience to the powers that be, was preferable to a state of revolutionary anarchy ; inasmuch as the tyranny of one was easier endured than that of a number : for instance, Sparta groaned under the tyranny of her two kings, but she wept tears of blood under the 211 the ephori, more properly called the thirty- tyrants. It was wrong to blame the Grand Duke for corruptions practised in distant parts of his dominions, such as Elba — to confound in the general hoinc administra- tion the particulars appropriated to each local district, would be at once the height of confusion and absurdity. In every country, the people live in a labyrinth of deception ; and it is not impossible that at the moment these poor fellows are cele- brating an event they think they have cause to rejoice at, some terrible events may be bringing out a catastrophe in their country, where, to do as they are doing, would subject them to a gibbet or a bay- onet. In small states it is always best for people to submit, whilst the evil can be borne: they who counsel disaffection to the ruler they cannot overthrow, do not shew 212 sliew so much love for the poor, as they do hatred to the rich." Bernardo did not attempt to continue the argument; his knowledge appeared universal, and sat easy upon him ; his hi- larity was forced, and meant to make an impression in his favour, that he was not what he seemed to be, but at heart a gay, thoughtless fellow, with a spark of the libertine in his breast : he admitted that he had dissipated great wealth, but had abundance remaining, and boasted of his extensive fields and vineyards at Misitra. It was late before Bernardo retired to rest, having first visited his daughter; and Freeman, who had trod down the stairs very quietly, as he was wont, saw him lock the door of her cabin, and put the key in his bosom, which circumstance he communicated to Harolde. He could not 213 not suspect that any attempt would be made upon his daughter's honour, by those whose names were sufficient guarantees for their integrity of principle and good- ness of heart : to one cause alone could they attribute this gaoler-like suspicion — the use which the lady had made of the word Cyprus. There was certainly a meaning in her hurried question, which she unguardedly asked, of — " Are you go- ing there now ?" which Bernardo did not wish to be further explained, and locked therefore the door, to prevent all commu- nication betwixt her, or the French girl, and Harolde; for Bernardo also watched this servant with his eyes, as closely as he did her mistress. It was plain he stood in awe of her, and to her our tmvellers re- solved to apply for information relative to the 214 the mysteries which a])peared to thicken around them. About the hour of setting the midnight watcl), Scarpio, the master of the yacht, who had been well recommended to Ha- rolde at Elba for his abilities as a seaman, and good qualities as a man, respectfidly came upon the quarter-deck, and solicited a few minutes conversation with my Lords, his face so pale, and even appeared like his who " Drew Priam's curtains in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd." Harolde made him sit down, and cheer- ed him with a bumper of wine, and then proceed with his story. — " I am afraid, noble seigniors, that this voyage of ours will not come to any good, for we have a murderer on board." The 215 The two friends started, and with one voice exclaimed — " Bernardo !" ** No, seigniors, it is not him I mean ; though, God preserve us ! I do not like his looks; it is his servant, the black man, Lamska : to-day he made very free with the wine you were so good as to give the crew, and became intoxicated : he boasted of his exploits in love and war; and I found he was well acquainted with Lucca, my native city. He said he had not been there these fourteen years, and mentioned a grand mask which took place at that period, on account of the success- ful revolution brought about by French assistance ; and that year my master, Lu- dovico, Lord of Sapienza, a good man, and very rich, was murdered, with his servant, at the door of his palace ; and a great reward was offered for a black man, suspected 216 suspected of being the assassin. I remem- ber the description, and a mark he luid on his right hand, with the loss of one of his ears. When 1 questioned Lamska about his recollection of the murder, he affected ignorance, which was impossible, seeing he was there at the time, and all Lucca mourned for the loss of so great and good a man. My question sobered him, and he refused to talk with me any more on the subject ; but I narrowly viewed him — he has the mark on his hand, and has lost his right ear. " At the time the murder was commit- ted, my luiovd Ludovico's brother was at Lucca; he left it, accompanied by the widow, and a daughter, then about three years old ; and they never returned, till about two years ago, when the brother, the wido' ' :^^^d a young lady, suddenly appeared 217 appeared at the palace, with an intention of selling the estates, to which the lady, it was said, would not give her consent, when they came to execute the deeds in court. However she died; and it was strongly suspected she was poisoned by her brother-in-law, with whom she lived as his wife : he was taken up, but let go ; and the black man, who was supposed to have committed the murder of my mas- ter, had appeared in the city, but he was not looked after. My Lord's brother took possession of, and sold the estates, going away in a great hurry. The last particu- lars I had from my brother, who is a courier between Lucca and Leghorn ; and I am confident Lamska is the man who murdered my master." Just as Scarpio concluded his narra- tion, a noise, as if of a foot slipping, was VOL. I. L heard heard on the cabin-stairs; and Freeman going down, observed the door of Ber- nardo's cabin closing gently ; so that he had been listening to the Captain's story. " Suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind ; Tl»e thief thinks every hush an olhccr." Harolde enjoined Scarpio to keep his counsel to himself, and treat Lamska as though he had forgotten his conversation of that evening. The two friends almost believed, in their own minds, that Bernardo was the bro- ther of Scarpio's master, and Lamska the murderer; but they were puzzled how to account for the young lady ; it was evi- dent she paid him the obedience due to a father, and he very tyrannically exerted the authority it gave him over her. All they could resolve on at the present time, was 219 was to take no steps till they arrived at Malta, when they settled to arrest both Bernardo and Lamska, and submit the whole case to the proper authorities. Freeman suggested whether or not the young lady Avas the daughter of Ludo- vico ; but in that case it would not be possible for Bernardo to have taken pos- session of the estates, and sold the pro- perty to which she was heiress ; and her whole person was so much of the Grecian, they had no right to doubt she was his daughter, and him a Greek, as he said he was. However, they recalled Scarpio, and questioned him strictly if he had ob- served any likeness betwixt Bernardo and his deceased master, Ludovico ? He said there was not the least resem- blance, and that he had never seen his L 2 late 220 late lord's brother ; nor did the lady look at all like the family. This again unsettled their opinions, and they retired to rest, harassed with doubt and indecision. During the night, Bernardo groaned heavily, and muttered incoherent sentences in his sleep ; the horrors of a guilty con- science prevented him from resting, and in the morning he was in a high state of dehrium. Lamska had been with him previous to his distraction, and by his direction open- ed the door of the young lady's cabin, leaving the key in it. Shortly after he returned; and tapping at the panel, the little French girl came out, when Lamska explained to her the dangerous situation of Bernardo, from having drank more wine 221 wine the preceding night than he had been accustomed to. She retired, and Lamska went on deck. -^ Presently the young lady ran out in her night-clothes, heedless of Harolde, who sat readhig at the breakfast-table, and en- tered Bernardo's cabin : she w^as heard speaking to him in the most tender and pathetic tone, calling him father — her dear father, and entreating him to open his eyes, for none but his daughter " Berenice" was near him. " He is indeed her father," said Harolde, " and our suspicions of him are unfound- ed." " But Lamska," replied Freeman. " Oh ! a villain can easily get into an honest man's service, and gain his confi- dence. I am now suffering from confi- dence ill-placed in a worthless wretch, L 3 who, who, like a serpent, wound herself into my family, and stung the bosoms that sheltered her." Harolde relapsed into melancholy si- lence ; he had touched a chord, whose vi- brations now and then stopped, but were continually reviving anew, and which will continue to vibrate with pain, till every generous feeling of his heart are crushed beneath the pressure of eternal rest. He was awakened from his reverie by Berenice, who, in dreadful agitation, en- treated him to try and save her father. Her grief gave additional interest to her charms; she looked almost despairing; but still " loveliness shone around her as light." Harolde, who guessed that the cause of Bernardo's illness, being internal, required rest more than medicine, tried to sooth her 223 her affliction ; and Freeman, who had some little knowledge of materia medica, pro- ceeded to examine the patient, from whom he took several ounces of blood, and or- dered his extremities to be bathed in warm water. Lam ska, who had been on deck all this while, came down stairs; but seeing Be- renice seated on the sofa beside Harolde, hurried up again with rapidity, not be- fore she had caught a glimpse of his hi- deous person. A basilisk, nor the shield of Gorgon, could not have inspired her with greater dread : unconscious of any feeling but that of fear, she hid her eyes in Ha- rolde's bosom, exclaiming — " For Jesu's sake, let me not see that monster !" nor did she raise her eyes again, till Harolde assured her he was gone ; she then slowly cast them round the cabin, and when they L 4 settled 224 settled on the stairs where she had seen him, she gave a long sigh, and kissing her cross, her lips moved as if in prayer. ** Surely," thought Ilarolde, " she can- not know that this man murdered Ludo- vico? she a Grecian, and a stranger to Italy?" yet it was certain her father enter- tained a murderer in his service, and who was instructed to keep out of his daugh- ter's sight. Bernardo now was heard faintly caUing on his daughter's name, who instantly re- paired to his bedside. He had recovered his senses, and was heard anxiously in- quiring whether he had said any thing in his derangement : when assured that no- thing had passed his lips, he became more composed ; and by the advice of Freeman, took a composing draught, which sent him into a sound sleep. Harolde 225 Haroldc now prevailed on Berenice to partake of l)reakfast, and expressed the kindest concern for her welfare. He could not help gazing upon her with all a lover's eyes; and when their eyes met each other, their faces were suffused with hluslies. Harolde mustered up resolution to iisk her, if she was acquainted with the island of Cyprus, where he intended to pass his next summer? She replied in the affirmative, that she was a native of the place. " And your father ?" " He also is a Cyprian." " And your mother was " " I know not of what country ; but she is now an angel ;" with which she wiped away the tears that started from her fine dark eyes. L .5 " And 226 " And arc you anxious to return to Cyprus ?" " Oh no ; I shall be lost for ever if I do. My father " She was checked in her tale by Ber- nardo calling her to him, with whom she remained for several hours, in earnest conversation. At dinner, Bernardo was able to sit at table — a task beyond what prudence dic- tated ; but his anxiety to prevent all con- versation betwixt Berenice and the tra- vellers, made him exert himself more than his strength could bear. The constraint which Berenice had for a while cast off at breakfast now appear- ed more strict. She said little, and scarce lifted up her eyes when the usual cour- tesy of returning thanks for her health be- ing drank required it. Her father eyed her 227 her severely; and when Harolde men- tioned casually, and without consideration, the name of Berenice, Bernardo's features expanded as if in a state of convulsion, or moved by an electric shock ; and the lady also raised her head with astonishment. Harolde instantly perceived the cause of this admired disorder, and accounted for his knowledge of the lady's name by what she had said to her father, at the com- mencement of his illness, calling herself " his dear daughter Berenice." Bernardo bowed, as if satisfied ; but from the looks he every now and then cast at his daugh- ter, it was plain he entertained a suspicion that she had been communicating to Ha- rolde more than he desired any one should know. This made the evening pass over very dull ; and when the father retired to rest, the daughter, as no doubt she had L 6 been 228 been instructed, also sliut herself up in her chamber, leaving the two friends alone. They retired into a cabin in the fore part of the yacht, appropriated to the Cap- tain's use, and sent for him, to partake of some wine. There, beyond the reach of listening ears, they canvassed over all that Scarpio had said. He could only repeat it; and from that day, having studied the features of Bernardo, whom he plainly saw from the deck by the skylight, he was more and more convinced that he was not the brother of Ludovico. Harold e asked him if he knew what countrywoman the lady of his master was. He could not tell; but he knew she was not a native of Lucca, or any part of Italy, and that a stranger came annually to pay her large sums of money, arising from her estates in a foreign land. " Did 229 " Did she," inquired Freeman, " ever visit her native country ?" " Oh yes ; and it was on one of tliese occasional absences the daughter was born, who was carried away when Ludovico was murdered by the widow and my Lord's brother." Tills conference was interrupted by a violent storm, which suddenly came on, and demanded all the Captain's attention. It continued all night, and Scarpio be- lieved it was a judgment from Heaven for having a murderer on board. After the conversation betwixt Scarpio and Lamska, the latter wore gloves, and a close cap, which came down over his ears, which served to establish the opinion of Scarpio, that he was the murderer for whom so great a reward had been offered fourteen years before. Next 230 Next day, Bernardo came on deck, quite recovered; and inquiring how far the distance was to Malta, said, if they could meet a ship going any where else, he would go on board of her, his daugh- ter's health being injured by being kept so long at sea. Scarpio silently prayed that Heaven would comply with his wishes ; and Free- man saw that he only wished to get rid of company who were too keen-sighted for his purposes. But Bernardo had also observed, that Berenice cast upon Ha- rolde eyes of affection, whose glances were returned with increased interest; and any attachment she could form, would blast all his ambitious hopes and those high designs, to accomplish v/hich he had spent years of misery, and sacrificed all hopes of peace in this world, or mercy in that to come. 231 come. He knew Harolde to be a man of wealtli and high rank, whose power was extensive; and being an EngHshman, when they arrived at Malta, lie could, if he pleased, possess himself of his daughter, whether he would or not. This was not the least of his fears. The conversation he had listened to betwixt Scarpio and Harolde made him believe he was disco- vered, though Scarpio had no recollection of him ; he knew the mariner well, and was in continual dread lest something should make his person known to him. Should Lamska be arrested, of which he had no doubt, the consequences might be fatal to him. In short, to avoid total ruin, he must avoid going to Malta if possible. The gale, which hourly increased, seem- ed favourable to Bernardo's wishes ; they were driven away from the proper course to 232 to Malta ; and when Scarpio advised that they should shelter from the storm in a small harbour of the island of Lampe- dosa, Bernardo seemed overjoyed : this joy was attributed to the sensation they all felt, from a prospect of being saved from the perils of the sea. With consi- derable difficulty the yacht was brought safe into port, or a little creek, surrounded by stupendous rocky cliffs, from wliich thousands of sea-birds flew, screaming notes of wo. Lampedosa is little better than a barren rock, inhabited by fishermen, and resorted to by pirates to divide their plunder; it was well known to Bernardo, in every creek and corner. On the summit of it were the ruins of an old Moorish castle, which was supposed to have served as a watch-tower, to give notice of an enemy's approach. 233 approach, during the Punic wars betwixt the Romans and Carthaginians ; the steps to this were all destroyed, and it seemed beyond the powers of man to reach it. The grass that grew in the clefts of the rocks was coarse and stunted, the few bushes brown, from want of moisture, and the whole bore an aspect of cheerless deso- lation. On the beach, and rocks near it, stood a few fishermen's huts, half of them only inhabited ; and one house rose superior to the rest, being of two stories, and in pos- session of the Sicilian bailiff, who levied the duties from the fish caught. To this house there was a garden, and, in such a dreary desert, it had an air of comfort, which, in any other place, would have been deemed not one step above misery. Whilst the vessel was securing, Ber- nardo 234 nardo and Lamska crept close to the fore- castle, where they held a long conference together ; and when the yacht's boat pull- ed to land, to make fast a mooring-rope, I^amska jumped into her, saying he would go and try to buy some milk from the fishermen for the lady, who had not risen from her bed since the storm began. The boat, after waiting a considerable tim6, came on board, leaving Lamska on the island. In half an hour he returned, in a boat, with the bailiff, a man of vul- gar and forbidding aspect, who demanded a small fee, as an acknowledgment of his master's title to the island. This was paid him, and he made an offer of the accom- modations his house afforded to the party during their stay. Harolde declined the offer, but Ber- nardo, after consulting his daughter, ac- cepted 235 cepted of it. Seasickness had so severely affected licr, she rejoiced to set her foot on any land whatever. The vessel lay ** land-locked," to use a sailor's phrase when the ocean is shut out from view, and after dinner, the whole party landed. Bad as the bailifTs house looked from the vessel, it was worse upon a nearer in- spection, and Berenice seemed displeased at her father preferring it to a residence on board — it was evident she durst not speak her thoughts. The bailiff mentioned, that in a few weeks he expected a ship of war, to receive the annual tribute he col- lected from the fishermen ; and Bernardo, affecting pleasure at the circumstance, consigned to the care of this man his trea- sure, contained in three chests, to be for- warded to Sicily, and from thence to Mi- sitra. A regular receipt was given for these 236 these chests, which some of the party signed as witnesses. This certainly appeared a readier way than carrying it to Malta, and moreover, made Ilarolde believe that the intentions of liernardo were to go thither. It is true, Bernardo had stated, when he em- barked at Elba, that he was a native of Misitra, and his daughter had said he was a Cypriot; both might be right, as both are Greek colonies, under Turkish domi- nion; and the probability was, she did not know the place of her father's birth, but believed it to be in Cyprus, where he resided with her mother. After a few days passed in this desolate place, during which Bernardo and his party lived on shore, and after repeated vain attempts to speak with Berenice alone, Harolde prepared to depart. The 237 The afternoon that he intended saihng Berenice appeared uncommonly dejected, and seemed anxious to speak to him, cast- ing on him many a look of anguished ten- derness. Bernardo never moved from her side; and the little French attendant ne- ver made her appearance : it was reported that she had gone round the rocks to col- lect shells, but would soon be back. Bernardo promised to be ready to em- bark when the anchor was weighed and sails set ; the boat was then to be sent for him. Harolde stepped into the boat, and kissed his hand to Berenice. He imat^ined she shed tears, and then belie\ ed he must be mistaken, when she ought to rejoice at leaving such a miserable place. The anchor was weighed, and the yacht sailing about in the bay, when the boat was dispatched for Bernardo and his daughter. 238 daughter. Tlircc hours elapsed, and she returned not; the shades of evening be- gan to close around, and a gun was fired, as a siirnal for haste to be observed. The idea on board was, that the crew had got tipsy with the bailifrs spirits, which he sold by retail to any who had money, and the men had before been intoxicated by him. At last the boat a])peared, and as she drew nigh, Ilarolde's heart throbbed wildly with fear, when he saw no one but the rowers. They reported, that on land- ing, they only saw the bailiff, who pro- fessed to go out and call in the party from his garden. He did not return ; and they had searched every hut, and every acces- sible part of the rocks, without seeing either him, Bernardo, or Berenice. Amazement sat upon every counte- nance at this relation, and the darkest sus- picions 239 picions canie over every ones mind. Lamska too was absent, and all was dis^ may and consternation. Harolde ordered the Captain to anehor the vessel again, and rushing into the boat, followed by Freeman, swore he would never leave the place without Bere- nice. Scarpio reminding hini that J^er- nardo and Lamska were armed, as well as the bailiff, swords and pistols were handed hi, and, urged by the impatience of Ha- rolde, the boat advanced to the beach with the rapidity of lightning. In the bailifTs house not a soul was found — the cellars were searched, and the heads of the casks beat in, to see if any one were concealed therein. The tisheruien's huts were nearly all empty ; only a few old men, women, and children, remained, the fishermen hav- ing all gone to sea by daylight that morn- 240 ing, and were not expected for two days : neither threats nor promises could gain from these wretches anv account of the fugitives ; they had not seen or heard of them any where. Parties were dispersed all over the rocks, into every cavern and fissure — not a bram- ble bush was left unexplored ; but all in vain. No boat could go to sea without passing in sight of the yacht, and one only chance remained — they might have gained access to the ruined tower. The bailiff of course was in the plot ; and now Harolde had no doubt of Bernardo's guilt, and that he was afraid of meeting justice at Malta. In the ruined tower they could not long exist without provisions and wa- ter ; but to gain such a height was im- possible at that hour. It was dark, so Harolde, setting a guard on the broken path 241 path which led towards it, ordered others to watch round the island ; and placing himself with Freeman on the point which gave ingress and egress to vessels, he re- mained all night in a state little short of absolute distraction. END OF VOL. 1. J. C. Goodier, Printer, WfU Street, Hackney. VOL. I. M > *-* '^'*^4>S^''^J' * -V. ..>:-^'^^ /<>