Understanding the delicacy of Santa Cruz, in thus having withdrawn;
and to leave the room free for his return, the Pastor retired with
his family into the library, where they listened without interruption
to a brief account of what had passed at the castle.--Louis only
excepted Wharton's mysterious discourse; and a little softened his
representation of the scenes with the female visitors. He did not mean
to deceive in either case; but honour forbade his betraying the Duke;
and the decency of a manly mind, almost unconsciously threw a shade
over descriptions which confessed their nature, by shrinking from
disclosure.
Mr. Athelstone scarcely spoke during the recital. He listened with
an attention that considered every circumstance, and weighed every
word.--The ladies were affected differently. Mrs. Coningsby inveighed
against Sir Anthony, and extolled Duke Wharton for his unexpected
interference in favour of her nephew's return. Cornelia expressed her
wonder that women of any respectability could bring themselves to share
the boisterous society of the baronet and his companions.--And Alice
asked, as actresses must copy from the best models, whether it could
really be the fashion in London and abroad, for women to be so very
easy with men?--"If it is," said she, looking at her sister; "how very
stupid Don Ferdinand must think you and me!"
Louis smiled, and thought; "Did you know all the ease of those ladies,
how little would you have sullied those pure lips with even the mention
of their names." But he only answered, "My dear Alice, licence in your
sex is more complimented than respected by ours.--Modesty in woman
must be the fashion with men of principle in every country."
When he closed his relation, Mrs. Coningsby rose from her chair in
vehement indignation at her brother; who had thus sought to gratify
a whim, at the expence of his own honour, and the risque of his
nephew's life.--The sisters trembled at what might have been the
fatal consequence of Louis's desperate escape. And to calm the three,
by diverting their attention to what he felt they were all most
inhospitably neglecting, Mr. Athelstone proposed their seeking the
Marquis and his son; while he remained a few minutes with Louis, to
make some necessary observations on what they had just heard.
Louis foresaw that his uncle meant to enquire more particularly
respecting the Duke, than he had thought fit to do before his
nieces.--When they had left the room, the good old man drew his chair
close to his nephew, and with earnest tenderness asked him _if he had
disclosed all_?--The cheeks of Louis kindled and his eyes fell.
"My child," cried the Pastor, "these answer for you.--You have not!--I
guessed it, from your manner when you spoke of those women, and that
dissembling Wharton.--Fear not to confess to me.--What is it that you
have withheld from me?"
"Nothing, I trust, my dearest Sir, to justify this extraordinary
agitation in yourself."
"Thank God! Thank God.--That open brow is still unmarked with
consciousness of guilt.--Oh, my child, may it be ever thus with
thee!--Preserve that innocence, so bright, so peace-bestowing! and
never hesitate doing as you did this morning, risking your life in its
preservation."
"I never will, my uncle:--So help me, heaven!" A solemn pause
ensued.--When Mr. Athelstone again spoke, the restored serenity of
his mind was seen in the benign composure with which he proceeded to
discuss the very subject which, a few moments before, had occasioned
him so much emotion. He at once expressed his belief that his nephew's
contest at Bamborough had been of a more serious nature than he had
yet allowed; and he hoped he was not uncharitable in suspecting that
Duke Wharton made those theatrical ladies his tools to detain Louis,
while he played the disinterested part of promoting his release. Louis
would not admit this inference; but he acknowledged that his uncle had
guessed right with regard to the share the ladies had in protracting
his stay. He ingenuously told the whole relating to them; and did not
even disguise his own delusion of senses during the midnight revels.
The venerable Pastor lifted up his clasped hands:--"Anthony! vile
Anthony!" were his ejaculations during the recital.--"Oh, Louis," cried
he, "the bane of your life was in that hour!--and in the blindness
of your cheated imagination, had you put forth your hand to take the
poisoned cup----alas, dear child of my sainted niece, how near were
these grey hairs being brought with shame and sorrow to the grave!"--He
paused; then resumed; for Louis was too much affected to interrupt him.
"I cannot excuse the Duke.--I know him to be profligate; though to
you he affects to despise the companions of his debasing pleasures.
These women were in his train; and I firmly believe he excited their
practices on your inexperienced heart."
"How?--Why?"
"That he might have you in his power."
"For what? my uncle." He had no sooner asked the question, than
recollection of the park discourse, answered him.
"I know not for what," replied Mr. Athelstone, "Probably he does
not exactly know himself.--But there is a principle in wickedness
that delights in laying human virtue waste, merely for the sake of
destruction! The prince of evil was a _murderer from the beginning_!
and so are all his followers."
"But my dear Sir, taking it for granted that Duke Wharton had an object
to gain with me, how would my subjection to the seductions of these
women, put me in his power?"
"He would have been your master in the new science you began to
learn.--He would have governed your passions by the wiles of these
wantons;--and, self-abased, and dependant on him for the wretched wages
of your sin; how abject would have been your slavery! How omnipotent
his controul!"
Louis felt the cold damps of suspicion drop upon his heart.--He
turned pale; he gasped for breath. A thousand circumstances which
might corroborate his uncle's suggestion rushed upon his recollection.
Though Wharton ridiculed the advances of these women, he did not repel
them! Though he scorned the sensualist's pursuit, he boasted of seeming
to share it, that he might turn him to his purpose. And when Louis
retreated in his sight from the temptations he feared, did not the Duke
rather laugh him into daring their strength, than encourage his flying
from their influence?--Louis had never before doubted human being; much
less suspected perfidy in the man who solicited his confidence, and
whose irresistible persuasions had charmed him of more than half his
heart. The Pastor grasped the cold hand of his nephew.
"Louis, can you be thus disturbed, by nothing more than my
representation of what might have been?" "My most revered, my best
friend!" cried he, straining the old man's hand to his breast; "There
are some views of human nature that strike an honest heart with horror.
But I cannot suspect Duke Wharton of such murderous treachery, when
he had that very heart in his hand. Oh, my uncle, wrest from me the
thought! It seems to cover the character of man with one universal
blot."
Mr. Athelstone allowed the violence of his nephew's feelings to exhaust
itself, before he made a reply. He saw something had passed between
Louis and the Duke, which the former still kept secret; and confident
in his integrity, he determined not to press a disclosure he appeared
so averse to offering voluntarily.
"I perceive, Louis," said he, "that you do think it is possible you
might have been placed in the predicament I have supposed. I also
perceive this subtle nobleman has got you so far into his power as to
have obtained your confidence, and a pledge from you of secrecy. I do
not require you to betray it; but I warn you again! You have put _your
heart into the hand of a man_ who is practised in deceiving; and who
has no value for your deposit, but as it suits his purpose to make you
_his toy or his tool_. These are his words, as you repeated them to me;
and let them be his judge."
Louis was shocked to find this accusation lodge, and not rebound
from his heart. He acknowledged that the Duke did engage him in a
conversation he would rather have avoided; but no pledge of secrecy had
been demanded; yet it was implied, and he trusted his uncle would think
the word of honour he then gave ought to be respected.
"Your uncle, my child, will never induce you to violate that fidelity
of word, which he has ever taught you to regard as one of the most
sacred bonds of society. But, without committing yourself by any answer
to what I may say, you must allow me to speak to the subject on which
I believe your honour has been given?"
"Speak freely, Sir, and I shall be grateful, but on your own terms, I
make no answer."
He prepared to listen, looking down, that Mr. Athelstone might not read
by the consciousness of his eyes, how true or false was his guess.
The good Pastor had no difficulty in fixing his suspicions on
some confidential communication respecting the expatriated royal
family. Duke Wharton was the near relation of the unfortunate Lord
Derwentwater, who died on the scaffold, in the cause of James
Stuart; and from that hour his young kinsman had declared so loud an
indignation of the severity of the sentence, that his guardians could
hold him in no bounds. And ever since, it was more than suspected
that his influence was secretly used to maintain the interests which
the expelled Prince still preserved in some parts of the kingdom.
Mr. Athelstone was aware that hopes were now reviving, which it was
supposed had been finally crushed six years ago on the field of
Glenshiel. But a patriot king was still only a vision. There were
features in the personal character of George the First which rendered
him unpopular with a high-spirited and intelligent nobility. He was
haughty, reserved, and severe. All sincere members of the reformed
church, and friends of national liberty, amongst the middle classes
of the people, had the good sense to compromise the defects of the
individual, for the general benefit of possessing a protestant king,
and a limited monarchy. A large proportion of the nobility also, were
of this opinion; while others merely followed the stream of power;
and the rest rather endured than rejoiced in the changed succession.
Though the principle of the nation at large was thus firm to its own
measure of faith and of loyalty, yet parties ran high in the English
metropolis; and the court at St. Germain's, mistaking the rage of
faction for public discontent, conceived new hopes of being recalled
to the seat of its ancient glory. Elated with these expectations, the
widowed queen of James the Second, in one part of the continent, and
the Prince her son in another, drew around them all whom personal
devotion, fancied interest, or a spirit of adventure, could animate to
try again the often-disputed cause. The policy of Europe contributed
to keep alive these pretensions; for whenever any new circumstance of
national jealousy excited a country to disturb the peace of England,
the rival Power had only to exchange ambassadors with St. Germain's,
and make the restoration of its family a pretext for hostilities.
Such had been the case in 1715, and also in 1719, when Spain assisted
the Chevalier Saint George in his descent on Scotland. But with new
ministers came new systems; and it was now whispered that Philip the
Fifth was veering round to the side of the house of Hanover.
Mr. Athelstone hastily ran over these preliminaries to the inference
he meant to draw; observing the fluctuating complexion of his nephew;
and believing that in guessing the subject of the Duke's discourse, he
had also discovered its motive. In his morning's conversation with the
Marquis, that nobleman had told him an anecdote of the Duke which bore
on his present surmises. During the preceding Christmas, the Spanish
ambassador at Paris had met Wharton at a diplomatic dinner given by
the French minister. Flushed with wine, half-jest, half-earnest, the
gay Duke interrupted a discussion on the desperation of the Stuart
cause, by declaring himself its champion. "My master's interest," cried
he, "has hitherto been mismanaged. Perth and two or three other old
women, like Macbeth's witches, have met together under the portal of
St. Germain's, to prophesy of crowns, and produce halters. But they
are now laid in the red sea! And man and determination are called upon
to act. I bring both in my own person, and am ready to run a tilt with
George of Hanover, and Robert Walpole to boot, whenever your good kings
will open the field to me!"
"My dear Louis," continued the Pastor, "here, I doubt not, this zealous
champion has come to collect for his lists; and you would be a second
to gain him a triumph."
Louis surprised, turned his eyes on his uncle.
"Yes, you,--as a promise of your father."
"My father Sir! how could I engage for my father? and how could my
father serve the cause you suspect the Duke has at heart?"
"Your father was the energy of Holland; and, I understand, is the
wisdom of Spain. We knew that he was respected by the Spanish nation,
and possessed the confidence of its monarch. But I was not aware of the
extent of his power in that country, till I learnt it yesterday from
the Marquis Santa Cruz. He tells me, that since the removal of Cardinal
Alberoni from the place of prime minister, others may have the title,
but your father dictates the measures. Indeed, added the Marquis, in
any state he must ever have proved himself a great man; but Spain is
his country; and restored to that, he flourishes like a tree in its
native soil."
Louis knew that his family was originally Spanish. That his
grandfather, Don Juan de Montemar, Duke of Ripperda, had removed from
Spain in a pique against his sovereign. On further provocation he
joined an insurrection in the Netherlands. The King retaliated, by
confiscating his patrimonial estates in Andalusia, and degrading him
from the rank of Grandee. Separated for ever from his native country,
and loathing its very remembrance, he laid aside his Spanish title
with disdain, and became a citizen of Groningen. On purchasing large
estates in that province, the States-General gave him the rank of
Baron; and soon after he married the only daughter of the late Prince
Casimir, of Nassau. Her brave father had been killed in battle against
the Spaniards; and the proud and resentful Ripperda, therefore, gave
his hand to her with particular complacency. A son was the fruit of
this marriage, who its happy mother named after her uncle and cousin,
both so famous for their patriotic virtues; one, the then existing
Stadtholder of the Netherlands; the other, winning by his valiant
deeds the future distinction of being King of England. Never having
any more children, the illustrious parents lavished every species of
care upon this; and with a pride, which all the adopted republicanism
of the father could not subdue, they saw him grow up with the proofs
of his noble ancestry manifested in his spirit; courteous, brave, and
ambitious. While he was yet a youth, he fought for Holland and for
England, under the standard of his kinsman the great King William;
and particularly distinguished his name at the celebrated siege of
Namur. But the elder Ripperda did not long enjoy his son's fame. He
died before the young hero returned to Groningen. His mother, who
inherited the intellectual ambition of her princely house, exerted all
her persuasions to turn the passion of her son from military glory
to political honours. She effected her purpose; for nature seconded
her views. The young Baron was born to be a statesman. There was an
extraordinary intuitive intelligence in his mind, that seemed to
require no more than to turn towards a subject, to comprehend it; all
its bearings became present to him; and the energy of action followed
the moment in which its utility was perceived. He early became the
confident of statesmen; and as every element takes its level, soon
found his proper sphere, as their adviser; the suggester, and impelling
agent of their boldest plans. In fact, he was the spirit of their
council, without appearing in its body; for he professed the religion
of his father, which was Roman Catholic. His mother's church was that
of her country. And the bigotry of her deceased husband not having
been imbibed by her son, she found no difficulty in converting him to
the simplicity of the Hollanders' faith. The only obstacle being thus
removed, the next assembly of the States-General saw him seated amongst
them as representative of the province of Groningen. His civic honours
were quickly succeeded by his mother's death. Two years after that
event, he married the beautiful daughter of Sir Hedworth Athelstone.
But his lot was not to be found in a domestic circle. His young
baroness died in the first year of his nuptials; and he relinquished
his only child to the prayers of its maternal grandfather.
Thus, separated from every object that might have had a near claim
upon his heart, Ripperda gave up his soul to the commonwealth. He
travelled throughout Europe, to study the characters and politics of
its rulers, in the seats of their governments; and he returned with an
extent of information which rendered his judgement on general policy,
almost omniscient. His influence too, was not less far-reaching;
for he never forgot the gracious courtesies of life, in the stern
pursuits of the statesman.--In him was mingled a strange, but imposing
union; the republican independence of a citizen of Holland, with
the chivalric gallantry and feudal grandeur which distinguish the
grandee of Spain.--His house was a palace; his retinue superb; and
his table open every day to the first men in the States, and to all
noble strangers who visited the country. His thoughts, his time, his
fortune, all were dedicated to the Republic:--but he would bestow that
all according to his own humour. Not by a covert, silent, channel; but
openly, bounteously, magnificently; as he thought became him who made
the dedication, and the great people by which it was accepted. With
this profusion, he was no prodigal. His estates in Groningen and the
adjacent provinces, were immense; but they were not his only means. His
expansive genius had grasped the various resources of commerce; and
the treasures which poured into him from every point of the compass,
rendered his expenditure exhaustless. Thus absorbed in a wide-spreading
vortex of public duties, which seemed by each successive movement to
separate his thoughts still farther from domestic recollections, it
is not surprising that he almost ceased to remember he was a father.
Indeed the image of his absent son never presented itself, but when
occasional letters arrived from Mr. Athelstone; and then the thought
once or twice occurred to him to have Louis to Holland. The next public
dispatch dissipated the idea; and it never crossed him again, till some
other letter recalled the wish--to be as speedily forgotten. Meanwhile,
the great events of Europe were operating an unlooked for change in the
destiny of Baron de Ripperda.
When Louis the Fourteenth of France died, his descendant Philip the
Fifth of Spain, felt himself released from a yoke in which there had
been more of the despot than of the parent.--And, in consequence
of certain political changes which he immediately proposed, the
States-General found it necessary to confide their affairs at his court
to some man of diplomatic genius, capable of coping with the mysterious
policy of Alberoni, and the variety of talent possessed by the foreign
ministers assembled at Madrid. Their universal suffrage named the Baron
de Ripperda, and without demur he undertook the embassy.
During a long and complicated negociation at Madrid, he became the
object of general interest and curiosity. His fine person, and
exquisitely polished manners, were themes of amazement and admiration
with the Queen and her ladies. Such graces of mien, and eloquence of
discourse, could hardly be native or acquired by a Hollander!--But when
it was understood that his father, and all his paternal ancestors were
Spaniards, the enthusiasm of the Queen was excited to re-unite so much
talent to the service of his original country. His favour with the
royal Isabella was no trifling object of observation with the foreign
ministers. But the jealousy which his acute penetration, and alert
turns in diplomacy might have kept on the alarm, was beguiled of its
vigilance by the suavity of his manners, and his talent of winning
their confidence, while he gained his object. He knew how to wear his
triumphs with discretion; for, content with victory, he never displayed
its ensigns. Thus, he noiselessly pursued his diplomatic advantages,
and had subdued the whole field, before his adversary even perceived
his banner on the ground.--The object of his mission being obtained,
he returned to Holland. The States-General received him with public
testimonies of satisfaction:--but he found his former sway in their
councils traversed by a number of new representatives, impatient of
dictation, and jealous of his former supremacy in the state. Though he
had brought in his hand a treaty, that proved his unswerving fidelity
to Holland, these turbulent men affected to suspect he might hereafter
be too well inclined to favour a country which had just invited him,
with every maternal persuasion, to return to her bosom. Despising
the juvenile demagogues who presumed to insinuate suspicions against
his public faith; and indignant at the timidity of his colleagues,
in suffering the utterance of such slanderous insults; he boldly
declared, that the ingratitude of the States-General now determined
him to re-unite himself to the land of his fathers.--"But," said he,
"the unchecked obloquy of these novices, shall not provoke me to
forget, when returned to my mother country, that Holland, until this
disgraceful moment, was my affectionate nurse!"
Whilst disposing of his estates in Groningen, and turning the tide of
his commercial affairs to the coasts of Spain, new revolutions were
taking place in the political theatre of his future action.--Alberoni
was dismissed the kingdom, in consequence of a trifling accident, which
had the momentous effect of discovering all his long concerted plans to
the eyes of alarmed Europe. A scheme was developed to aggrandize Spain
at the expence of all other nations; and had not Philip sacrificed his
too-daring minister to the indignation of the monarchs, he would have
felt their resentment on every side of his kingdom. The cabinet of
Madrid was in tumults; and the King and Queen, doubting to what hand
they could safely commit the helm in so dangerous a storm. At this
juncture, Ripperda returned; and was received with open arms. Besides
his acquaintance with foreign courts, his eminent situation, some years
before, at the congress of Utrecht, by bringing him into diplomatic
contact with the most efficient statesmen of the different nations, had
informed him so thoroughly of their individual characters, and general
views for their respective countries, that he found no difficulty in
presenting his now acknowledged sovereigns, with a chart by which they
might navigate the vessel of the State out of the perilous track into
which the adventurous Alberoni had plunged her.
All this was transacted in the private boudoir of Her Majesty. To the
inconsiderate part of the world, Ripperda appeared to have strangely
resigned himself to a life of mere amusement; for to the inconsiderate,
all is what it seems. His fine person was excuse enough to them, for
the high favour in which he stood with the Queen; for though no lip
of slander had ever moved against her honour; all knew, that like the
royal Elizabeth of England, she was fond of the attentions of handsome
and accomplished men.
Ripperda purchased a villa near Segovia, and a superb mansion at
Madrid. His household establishment and equipages were not less
magnificent, than when he was one of the _merchant princes_ of Holland;
and his table, in like manner was surrounded by the best company of
Spain. The gayer part believed that his evening attendance at the
_Buen Retiro_ was to play picquet with the Queen, or chess with His
Majesty; but the graver sort were fully aware that, whoever were the
ostensible ministers of Philip, Ripperda was the one in fact. They
could trace to his suggestion, and covert execution, various changes in
the constitution, to consolidate its power and augment its resources.
Plans of commerce were devised and put into practice; and manufactures
introduced at Segovia and Gaudalaxara, which threatened the staple
trade of Great Britain. Considering the immediate instruments of
national greatness to be wealth, and the power of defending it; he
formed a design for rendering Cadiz one of the noblest ports in the
world; and to establish around the coast, docks and arsenals, and
every other means of constructing a formidable navy. This was the
internal policy of Spain, under the secret influence of the Baron de
Ripperda. With Alberoni's dismission, its external measures also took
a new aspect; and with regard to the disputed accession in England,
seemed meditating a change. A few years ago Philip had assisted the
chevalier Saint George in his descent on Scotland; but he now resisted
all applications to the same effect; and openly professed a growing
respect for the house of Hanover. Notwithstanding similar repulses from
the French minister, the irrepressible hopes of James Stuart were kept
on the alert by repeated assurances from his partizans in England;
that a schism in the parliament had aroused corresponding jealousies
amongst the people, which were daily expected to break out into an
insurrection, not likely to be quelled by a king and an heir-apparent
avowedly hostile to each other.
"At so critical a juncture, as the cabinet of St. Germain's supposed
this to be;" observed the Pastor, "it is not surprising that Duke
Wharton should grasp at any means of averting the absolute secession
of Spain from his master's cause. He is aware of the Baron de
Ripperda's power with King Philip: and by seeking to involve the son in
a project for a second rebellion, he hopes to engage the father's pride
or his fears, in the same adventure."
The mind of Louis was powerfully excited during a discourse which
embraced so many topics; and all connected with himself, by means of
a father, who he knew by fame only; but such a fame as filled his son
with an admiration, only to be equalled by the emulation which broke
at once over his heart. While listening to the enumeration of his
father's patriotic acts for Holland and for Spain; he contemned the
airy pretensions of every brilliant, but inferior aim to celebrity: all
but substantial worthiness vanished before him, like the bursting of
light upon darkness. He had heard of his father; but now he seemed to
feel his presence: and he sat with his hands clasped, absorbed in the
immensity of the subject.
Mr. Athelstone observed the workings of his countenance; the flashing
brightness of his complexion, as his thoughts darted from Lindisfarne
to Holland, and from Holland to Spain. He had not heard his uncle's
last observation with regard to Wharton's views on his father and
himself. Mr. Athelstone understood the abstraction of his mind. He was
too well read in the human character not to guess what was passing
there. He gazed on him a few minutes in silence; contemplating with the
anxiety of parental affection what might be the issue of the passion he
saw was then conceived in that ingenuous and ardent soul.
"But it must not be for treason!" cried he to himself, and gently
shaking the arm of his nephew, he repeated his last remark on the
Duke. He perceived by the start Louis gave, in recalling his diverged
faculties, that he was now attended to; and for a while he pursued
the subject with other observations. At the conclusion, he added in
a solemn voice, "you know, my child, I require no reply to this head
of my discourse. But I beseech you, weigh well the true nature of
things before you act. In no case allow imagination to mislead you.
To be on the suffering side of a contest, is generally sufficient, in
the judgment of generous youth, to make it the just one. And it is
a beneficent disposition of nature, to prompt man to the immediate
succour of distress. Oh, that our judges would consider this, in causes
of rebellion, before they condemn the young enthusiast, who would as
readily raise his arm for exiled Brunswick, as for banished Stuart! It
is the circumstance that draws the sword of unreflecting youth; thought
and principle unsheath that of age; and their trial and sentence should
be accordingly. But let not such reflections be your apology, Louis!
Another time I will give you the experience of my seventy years, by a
full explanation of why England changed the nature of her ruler; and
then if you err," added he with a melancholy smile, "it will be against
knowledge, and not even my partial indulgence can excuse you."
He rose as he spoke, and pressing the hand on which his nephew was
thoughtfully leaning his head, the worthy Pastor left him to meditate
on what had passed.