Napoleon had commenced those daring and rapid movements, which for a
time threw the peace of the world into the scale of fortune, and which
nothing but the interposition of a ruling Providence could avert from
their threatened success. As the the ----th dragoons wheeled into a
field already deluged with English blood, on the heights of Quatre Bras,
the eye of its gallant colonel saw a friendly battalion falling beneath
the sabres of the enemy's cuirassiers. The word was passed, the column
opens, the sounds of the quivering bugle were heard for a moment above
the roar of the cannon and the shouts of the combatants; the charge,
sweeping like a whirlwind, fell heavily on those treacherous Frenchmen,
who to-day had sworn fidelity to Louis, and to-morrow intended lifting
their hands in allegiance to his rival.
"Spare my life in mercy," cried an officer, already dreadfully wounded,
who stood shrinking from the impending blow of an enraged Frenchman. An
English dragoon dashed at the cuirassier, and with one blow severed his
arm from his body.
"Thank God," sighed the wounded officer, sinking beneath the horse's
feet.
His rescuer threw himself from the saddle, and raising the fallen man
inquired into his wounds. It was Pendennyss, and it was Egerton. The
wounded man groaned aloud, as he saw the face of him who had averted the
fatal blow; but it was not the hour for explanations or confessions,
other than those with which the dying soldiers endeavored to make their
tardy peace with their God.
Sir Henry was given in charge to two slightly wounded British soldiers,
and the earl remounted: the scattered troops were rallied at the sound
of the trumpet, and again and again, led by their dauntless colonel,
were seen in the thickest of the fray, with sabres drenched in blood,
and voices hoarse with the shouts of victory.
The period between the battles of Quatre Bras and Waterloo was a trying
one to the discipline and courage of the British army. The discomfited
Prussians on their flank had been routed and compelled to retire, and in
their front was an enemy, brave, skilful, and victorious, led by the
greatest captain of the age. The prudent commander of the English forces
fell back with dignity and reluctance to the field of Waterloo; here the
mighty struggle was to terminate, and the eye of every experienced
soldier looked on those eminences as on the future graves for thousands.
During this solemn interval of comparative inactivity the mind of
Pendennyss dwelt on the affection, the innocence, the beauty and worth
of his Emily, until the curdling blood, as he thought on her lot should
his life be the purchase of the coming victory, warned him to quit the
gloomy subject, for the consolations of that religion which only could
yield him the solace his wounded feelings required. In his former
campaigns the earl had been sensible of the mighty changes of death, and
had ever kept in view the preparations necessary to meet it with hope
and joy; but the world clung around him now, in the best affections of
his nature, and it was only as he could picture the happy reunion with
his Emily in a future life, that he could look on a separation in this
without despair.
The vicinity of the enemy admitted of no relaxation in the strictest
watchfulness in the British lines: and the comfortless night of the
seventeenth was passed by the earl, and his Lieutenant Colonel, George
Denbigh, on the same cloak, and under the open canopy of Heaven.
As the opening cannon of the enemy gave the signal for the commencing
conflict, Pendennyss mounted his charger with a last thought on his
distant wife. With a mighty struggle he tore her as it were from his
bosom, and gave the remainder of the day to duty.
Who has not heard of the events of that fearful hour, on which the fate
of Europe hung as it were suspended in the scale? On one side supported
by the efforts of desperate resolution, guided by the most consummate
art; and on the other defended by a discipline and enduring courage
almost without a parallel.
The indefatigable Blucher arrived, and the star of Napoleon sank.
Pendennyss threw himself from his horse, on the night of the eighteenth
of June, as he gave way by orders, in the pursuit, to the fresher
battalions of the Prussians, with the languor that follows unusual
excitement, and mental thanksgivings that this bloody work was at length
ended. The image of his Emily again broke over the sterner feelings of
the battle, like the first glimmerings of light which succeed the awful
darkness of the eclipse of the sun: and he again breathed freely, in the
consciousness of the happiness which would await his speedy return.
"I am sent for the colonel of the ----th dragoons," said a courier in
broken English to a soldier, near where the earl lay on the ground,
waiting the preparations of his attendants "have I found the right
regiment, my friend?"
"To be sure you have," answered the man, without looking up from his
toil on his favorite animal, "you might have tracked us by the dead
Frenchmen, I should think. So you want my lord, my lad, do you? do we
move again to-night?" suspending his labor for a moment in expectation
of a reply.
"Not to my knowledge," rejoined the courier; "my message is to your
colonel, from a dying man. Will you point out his station?"
The soldier complied, the message was soon delivered, and Pendennyss
prepared to obey its summons immediately. Preceded by the messenger as a
guide, and followed by Harmer, the earl retraced his steps over that
ground on which he had but a few hours before been engaged in the deadly
strife of man to man, hand to hand.
How different is the contemplation of a field of battle during and after
the conflict! The excitement, suspended success, shouts, uproar, and
confusion of the former, prevent any contemplation of the nicer parts of
this confused mass of movements, charges, and retreats; or if a
brilliant advance is made, a masterly retreat effected, the imagination
is chained by the splendor and glory of the act, without resting for a
moment on the sacrifice of individual happiness with which it is
purchased. A battle-ground from which the whirlwind of the combat has
passed, presents a different sight; it offers the very consummation of
human misery.
There may occasionally be an individual, who from station, distempered
mind, or the encouragement of chimerical ideas of glory, quits the
theatre of life with at least the appearance of pleasure in his
triumphs. If such there be in reality, if this rapture of departing
glory be anything more than the deception of a distempered excitement,
the subject of its exhibition is to be greatly pitied. To the Christian,
dying in peace with both God and man, can it alone be ceded in the eye
of reason, to pour out his existence with a smile on his quivering lip.
And the warrior, who falls in the very arms of victory, after passing a
life devoted to the world; even, if he sees kingdoms hang suspended on
his success, may smile indeed, may utter sentiments full of loyalty and
zeal, may be the admiration of the world, and what is his reward? a
deathless name, and an existence of misery, which knows no termination.
Christianity alone can make us good soldiers in any cause, for he who
knows how to live, is always the least afraid to die.
Pendennyss and his companions pushed their way over the ground occupied
before the battle by the enemy; descended into and through that little
valley, in which yet lay, in undistinguished confusion, masses of the
dead and dying of either side; and again over the ridge, on which could
be marked the situation of those gallant squares which had so long
resisted the efforts of the horse and artillery by the groups of bodies,
fallen where they had bravely stood, until even the callous Harmer
sickened with the sight of a waste of life that he had but a few hours
before exultingly contributed to increase.
Appeals to their feelings as they rode through the field had been
frequent, and their progress was much retarded by attempts to contribute
to the ease of a wounded or a dying man; but as the courier constantly
urged speed, as the only means of securing the object of their ride,
these halts were reluctantly abandoned.
It was ten o'clock before they reached the farm-house, where, in the
midst of hundreds of his countrymen, lay the former lover of Jane.
As the subject of his confession must be anticipated by the reader, we
will give a short relation of his life, and of those acts which more
materially affect our history.
Henry Egerton had been turned early on the world, hundreds of his
countrymen, without any principle to counteract the arts of infidelity,
or resist the temptations of life. His father held a situation under
government, and was devoted to his rise in the diplomatic line. His
mother was a woman of fashion, who lived for effect and idle competition
with her sisters in weakness and folly. All he learnt in his father's
house was selfishness, from the example of one, and a love of high life
and its extravagance from the other.
He entered the army young, and from choice. The splendor and reputation
of the service caught his fancy; and, by pride and constitution, he was
indifferent to personal danger. Yet he loved London and its amusements
better than glory; and the money of his uncle, Sir Edgar, whose heir he
was reputed to be, raised him to the rank of lieutenant colonel, without
his spending an hour in the field.
Egerton had some abilities, and a good deal of ardor of temperament, by
nature. The former, from indulgence and example, degenerated into
acquiring the art to please in mixed society; and the latter, from want
of employment, expended itself at the card table.
The association between the vices is intimate. There really appears to
be a kind of modesty in sin that makes it ashamed of good company. If we
are unable to reconcile a favorite propensity to our principles, we are
apt to abandon the unpleasant restraint on our actions, rather than
admit the incongruous mixture. Freed entirely from the fetters of our
morals, what is there that our vices will not prompt us to commit?
Egerton, like thousands of others, went on from step to step, until he
found himself in the world; free to follow all his inclinations, so he
violated none of the decencies of life.
When in Spain, in his only campaign, he was accidentally, as has been
mentioned, thrown in the way of the Donna Julia, and brought her off the
ground under the influence of natural sympathy and national feeling; a
kind of merit that makes vice only more dangerous, by making it
sometimes amiable. He had not seen his dependant long before her beauty,
situation, and his passions decided him to effect her ruin.
This was an occupation that his figure, manners, and propensities had
made him an adept in, and nothing was further from his thoughts than the
commission of any other than the crime that, according to his code, a
gentleman might be guilty of with impunity.
It is, however, the misfortune of sin, that from being our slave it
becomes a tyrant; and Egerton attempted what in other countries, and
where the laws ruled, might have cost him his life.
The conjecture of Pendennyss was true. He saw the face of the officer
who interposed between him and his villanous attempt, but was hid
himself from view. He aimed not at his life, but at his own escape.
Happily his first shot succeeded, for the earl would have been
sacrificed to preserve the character of a man of honor; though no one
was more regardless of the estimation he was held in by the virtuous
than Colonel Egerton.
In pursuance of his plans on Mrs. Fitzgerald, the colonel had sedulously
avoided admitting any of his companions into the secret of his having a
female in his care.
When he left the army to return home, he remained until a movement of
the troops to a distant part of the country enabled him to effect his
own purposes, without incurring their ridicule; and when he found
himself obliged to abandon his vehicle for a refuge in the woods, the
fear of detection made him alter his course; and under the pretence of
wishing to be in a battle about to be fought, he secretly rejoined the
army, and the gallantry of Colonel Egerton was mentioned in the next
despatches.
Sir Herbert Nicholson commanded the advanced guard, at which the earl
arrived with the Donna Julia; and like every other brave man (unless
guilty himself) was indignant at the villany of the fugitive. The
confusion and enormities daily practised in the theatre of the war
prevented any close inquiries into the subject, and circumstances had so
enveloped Egerton in mystery, that nothing but an interview with the
lady herself was likely to expose him.
With Sir Herbert Nicholson, he had been in habits of intimacy, and on
that gentleman's alluding in a conversation in the barracks at F---- to
the lady brought into his quarters before Lisbon, he accidentally
omitted mentioning the name of her rescuer. Egerton had never before
heard the transaction spoken of, and as he had of course never mentioned
the subject himself, was ignorant who had interfered between him and his
views; also of the fate of Donna Julia; indeed, he thought it probable
that it had not much improved by a change of guardians.
In coming into Northamptonshire he had several views; he wanted a
temporary retreat from his creditors. Jarvis had an infant fondness for
play, without an adequate skill, and the money of the young ladies, in
his necessities, was becoming of importance; but the daughters of Sir
Edward Moseley were of a description more suited to his taste, and their
portions were as ample as the others. He had become in some degree
attached to Jane; and as her imprudent parents, satisfied with his
possessing the exterior and requisite recommendations of a gentleman
admitted his visits freely, he determined to make her his wife.
When he met Denbigh the first time, he saw that chance had thrown him in
the way of a man who might hold his character in his power. He had never
seen him as Pendennyss, and, it will be remembered, was ignorant of the
name of Julia's friend: he now learnt for the first time that it was
Denbigh. Uneasy at he knew not what, fearful of some exposure he knew
not how, when Sir Herbert alluded to the occurrence, with a view to
rebut the charge, if Denbigh should choose to make one, and with the
near-sightedness of guilt, he pretended to know the occurrence, and
under the promise of secresy, mentioned that the name of the officer was
Denbigh. He had noticed Denbigh avoiding Sir Herbert at the ball; and
judging others from himself, thought it was a wish to avoid any
allusions to the lady he had brought into the other's quarters that
induced the measure; for he was in hopes that if Denbigh was not as
guilty as himself, he was sufficiently so to wish to keep the
transaction from the eyes of Emily. He was, however, prepared for an
explosion or an alliance with him, when the sudden departure of Sir
Herbert removed the danger of a collision. Believing at last that they
were to be brothers-in-law, and mistaking the earl for his cousin, whose
name he bore, Egerton became reconciled to the association; while
Pendennyss, having in his absence heard, on inquiring, some of the vices
of the colonel, was debating with himself whether he should expose them
to Sir Edward or not.
It was in their occasional interchange of civilities that Pendennyss
placed his pocket-book upon a table, while he exhibited the plants to
the colonel: the figure of Emily passing the window drew him from the
room, and Egerton having ended his examination, observing the book, put
it in his own pocket, to return it to its owner when they next met.
The situation, name, and history of Mrs. Fitzgerald were never mentioned
by the Moseleys in public; but Jane, in the confidence of her
affections, had told her lover who the inmate of the cottage was. The
idea of her being kept there by Denbigh immediately occurred to him, and
although he was surprised at the audacity of the thing, he was
determined to profit by the occasion.
To pay this visit, he stayed away from the excursion on the water, as
Pendennyss had done to avoid his friend, Lord Henry Stapleton. An excuse
of business, which served for his apology, kept the colonel from seeing
Denbigh to return the book, until after his visit to the cottage. His
rhapsody of love, and offers to desert his intended wife, were nothing
but the common-place talk of his purposes; and his presumption in
alluding to his situation with Miss Moseley, proceeded from his
impressions as to Julia's real character. In the struggle for the bell,
the pocket-book of Denbigh accidentally fell from his coat, and the
retreat of the colonel was too precipitate to enable him to recover it.
Mrs. Fitzgerald was too much alarmed to distinguish nicely, and Egerton
proceeded to the ball-room with the indifference of a hardened offender.
When the arrival of Miss Jarvis, to whom he had committed himself,
prompted him to a speedy declaration, and the unlucky conversation of
Mr. Holt brought about a probable detection of his gaming propensities,
the colonel determined to get rid of his awkward situation and his debts
by a coup-de-main. He accordingly eloped with Miss Jarvis.
What portion of the foregoing narrative made the dying confession of
Egerton to the man he had so lately discovered to be the Earl of
Pendennyss, the reader can easily imagine.