I may be allowed to judge from my own feelings, I think it does not. I
may, however, be mistaken, but the error is too pleasing to be
relinquished; and I would much rather indulge it, than listen at present
to the cold prudential arguments which a too refined and ill-placed
generosity points out. When you arrive at the place of your destination,
you may gain a farther knowledge of a heart, capable at the same time of
the tenderest partiality, and a firm resolution of conquering it."
Every word of this billet was a dagger to my soul. I then ceased not to
accuse myself of ingratitude to the loveliest of women, as guilty of
false pride instead of generosity. If she placed her happiness in my
society, why should I deprive her of it? As she said my sentiments were
too refined, I asked myself, if it would not have been my supreme
delight to have raised her from the dregs of the people to share the
most exalted situation with me? Why should I then think less highly of
her attachment, of which I had received such proofs, than I was
convinced mine was capable of? For the future, I was determined to
sacrifice these nice punctilios, which were ever opposing my felicity,
and that of an amiable woman, who clearly and repeatedly told me, by her
looks, actions, and a thousand little nameless attentions I could not
mistake, that her whole happiness depended on me. I thought nothing
could convince her more thoroughly of my wish of being obliged to her,
than the acceptance of her bounty: I made no longer any hesitation about
it. That very day I was released from my long confinement by the
grace-act, to the utter mortification of my old prosecutor. I drove
immediately to some lodgings I had provided in the Strand; from whence I
instantly dispatched a billet-doux to Maria, in which I said these
words:
"The first moment of liberty I devote to the lovely Maria, who has my
heart a slave. I am a convert to your assertion, that love makes not
distinctions. Otherwise, could I support the reflection, that all I am
worth in the world I owe to you? But to you the world owes all the
charms it has in my eyes. We will not, however, talk of debtor and
creditor, but permit me to make up in adoration what I want in wealth.
Fortune attends the brave.--I will therefore flatter myself with
returning loaden with the spoils of the enemy, and in such a situation,
that you may openly indulge the partiality which makes the happiness of
my life, without being put to the blush by sordid relations.
I shall obey your mandates the more chearfully, as I think I am
perfectly acquainted with every perfection of your heart; judge then how
I must value it. Before I quit England, I shall petition for the honour
of kissing your hand;--but how shall I bid you adieu!"
The time now drew nigh when I was to take leave of my native land--and
what was dearer to me, my Maria.--I was too affected to utter a
word;--her soul had more heroic greatness.--"Go," said she, "pursue the
paths of glory; have confidence in Providence, and never distrust me. I
have already experienced some hazards on your account; but perhaps my
father may be easier in his mind, when he is assured you have left
England."
I pressed her to explain herself. She did so, by informing me, "her
father suspected her attachment, and, to prevent any ill consequence
arising, had proposed a gentleman to her for a husband, whom she had
rejected with firmness. No artifice, or ill usage," continued she,
"shall make any change in my resolution;--but I shall say no more, the
pacquet will more thoroughly convince you of what I am capable."
"Good God!" said I, in an agony, "why should your tenderness be
incompatible with your duty?"
"I do not think it," she answered;--"it is my duty to do justice; and I
do no more, by seeking to restore to you your own."
We settled the mode of our future correspondence; and I tore myself from
the only one I loved on earth. When I joined the regiment, I availed
myself of the privilege given me to inspect the papers. Oh! how was my
love, esteem, and admiration, increased! The contents were written at a
time, when she thought me insensible, or at least too scrupulous. She
made a solemn vow never to marry; but as soon as she came of age, to
divide the estate with me, making over the remainder to any children I
might have; but the whole was couched in terms of such delicate
tenderness, as drew floods of tears from my eyes, and riveted my soul
more firmly to her. I instantly wrote to her, and concealed not a
thought or sentiment of my heart--_that_ alone dictated every line. In
the letter she returned, she sent me her picture in a locket, and on the
reverse a device with her hair; this was an inestimable present to
me.--It was my sole employ, while off duty, to gaze on the lovely
resemblance of the fairest of women.
For some months our correspondence was uninterrupted.--However, six
weeks had now passed since I expected a letter.
Love is industrious in tormenting itself. I formed ten thousand dreadful
images in my own mind, and sunk into despair from each. I wrote letter
after letter, but had still no return. I had no other correspondent in
England.--Distraction seized me. "She's dead!" cried I to myself, "she's
dead! I have nothing to do but to follow her." At last I wrote to a
gentleman who lived in the neighbourhood of Mr. Maynard, conjuring him,
in the most affecting terms, to inform me of what I yet dreaded to be
told.--I waited with a dying impatience till the mails arrived.--A
letter was brought me from this gentleman.--He said, Mr. Maynard's
family had left L. some time;--they proposed going abroad; but he
believed they had retired to some part of Essex;--there had a report
prevailed of Miss Maynard's being married; but if true, it was since
they had left L. This news was not very likely to clear or calm my
doubts. What could I think?--My reflections only served to awaken my
grief. I continued two years making every inquiry, but never received
the least satisfactory account.
A prey to the most heartfelt affliction, life became insupportable to
me.--Was she married, I revolved in my mind all the hardships she must
have endured before she would be prevailed on to falsify her vows to me,
which were registered in heaven.--Had death ended her distress, I was
convinced it had been hastened by the severity of an unnatural
father.--Whichsoever way I turned my thoughts, the most excruciating
reflections presented themselves, and in each I saw her sufferings
alone.
In this frame of mind, I rejoiced to hear we were soon to have a battle,
which would in all probability be decisive. I was now raised to the rank
of captain-lieutenant. A battalion of our regiment was appointed to a
most dangerous post. It was to gain a pass through a narrow defile, and
to convey some of our heavy artillery to cover a party of soldiers, who
were the flower of the troops, to endeavour to flank the enemy. I was
mortified to find I was not named for this service. I spoke of it to the
captain, who honoured me with his friendship.--"It was my care for you,
Grenville," said he, "which prevented your name being inrolled. I wish,
for the sakes of so many brave fellows, this manoeuvre could have been
avoided. It will be next to a miracle if we succeed; but success must be
won with the lives of many; the first squadron must look on themselves
as a sacrifice." "Permit me then," said I, "to head that squadron; I
will do my duty to support my charge; but if I fall, I shall bless the
blow which rids me of an existence intolerable to me."
"You are a young man, Grenville," replied the captain, "you may
experience a change in life, which will repay you for the adversities
you at present complain of. I would have you courageous, and defy
dangers, but not madly rush on them; that is to be despairing, not
brave; and consequently displeasing to the Deity, who appoints us our
task, and rewards us according to our acquittal of our duty. The
severest winter is followed oftentimes by the most blooming spring:" "It
is true," said I:
"But when will spring visit the mouldering urn?
Ah! when will it dawn on the gloom of the grave?"
"Will you, however, allow me to offer an exchange with the commanding
officer?" My captain consented; and the lieutenant was very glad to
exchange his post, for one of equal honour, but greater security. I was
sitting in my tent the evening of the important day, ruminating on the
past events of my life; and then naturally fell into reflections of
what, in all probability, would be the consequence of the morrow's
attack. We looked on ourselves as devoted men; and though, I dare say,
not one in the whole corps was tired of his life, yet they all expressed
the utmost eagerness to be employed. Death was the ultimate wish of my
soul. "I shall, before to-morrow's sun goes down," said I, addressing
myself to the resemblance of my Maria; "I shall, most lovely of women,
be re-united to thee; or, if yet thy sufferings have not ended thy
precious life, I shall yet know where thou art, and be permitted,
perhaps, to hover over thee, to guide thy footsteps, and conduct thee to
those realms of light, whose joys will be incomplete without thee." With
these rhapsodies I was amusing my mind, when a serjeant entered, and
acquainted me, there was, without, a young man enquiring for me, who
said, he must be admitted, having letters of the greatest importance
from England. My heart beat high against my breast, my respiration grew
thick and difficult, and I could hardly articulate these words,--"For
God's sake, let me see him! Support me, Oh, God! what is it I am going
to hear?"
A cold sweat bedewed my face, and an universal tremor possessed my whole
frame.
A young gentleman, wrapped up in a Hussar cloak, made his appearance.
"Is this Lieutenant Grenville?" I bowed. "I am told, Sir," said I, in a
tremulous voice, "you have letters from England; relieve my doubts I
beseech you."--"Here, Sir, is one," said the youth, extending his hand,
which trembled exceedingly.--I hastily snatched it, ready to devour the
contents;--what was my agitation, when I read these words!
"If, after a silence of two long years, your Maria is still dear to you,
you will rejoice to hear she still lives for you alone. If her presence
is wished for by you, you will rejoice on finding her at no great
distance from you. But, if you love with the tenderness she does, how
great, how extatic, will be your felicity, to raise your eyes, and fix
them on her's!"
The paper dropped from my enervate hand, while I raised my eyes, and
beheld, Oh! my God! under the disguise of a young officer, my beloved,
my faithful, long-lost Maria!
"Great God!" cried I, in a transport of joy, clasping my hands together,
"have then my prayers been heard! do I again behold her!" But my
situation recurring to my imagination; the dangers which I had
unnecessarily engaged myself in for the morrow; her disguise; the
unprotected state in which I should leave her, in a camp, where too much
licentiousness reigned; all these ideas took instant possession of my
mind, and damped the rising joy her loved presence had at first excited.
The agonizing pangs which seized me are past description. "Oh! my God!"
I exclaimed in the bitterness of soul, "why did we thus meet!
Better,--Oh! how much better would it have been, that my eyes had closed
in death, than, to see all they adored thus exposed to the horrid misery
and carnage of destructive war." The conflict became too powerful; and
in all the energy of woe I threw myself on the ground. Poor Maria flung
herself on a seat, and covered her face in her great coat.--Audible sobs
burst from her bosom--I saw the convulsive heavings, and the sight was
as daggers to me.--I crawled on my knees to her, and, bending over
her,--"Oh! my Maria!" said I, "these pangs I feel for you; speak to me,
my only love; if possible, ease my sufferings by thy heavenly welcome
voice."--She uttered not a word; I sought to find her hand; she pushed
me gently from her, then rising,--"Come, thou companion of my tedious
and painful travel, come, my faithful Hannah," said she, to one I had
not before taken notice of, who stood in the entrance of the tent, "let
us be gone, here we are unwelcome visitors. Is it thus," continued she,
lifting up her hands to heaven, "is it thus I am received? Adieu!
Grenville! My love has still pursued you with unremitting constancy: but
it shall be your torment no longer. I will no longer tax your compassion
for a fond wretch, who perhaps deserves the scorn she meets." She was
leaving the tent. I was immoveably rooted to the ground while she
spake.--I caught her by the coat. "Oh! leave me not, dearest of women,
leave me not! You know not the love and distress which tear this
wretched bosom by turns. Injure me not, by doubting the first,--and if
you knew the latter, you would find me an object intitled to your utmost
pity. Oh! that my heart was laid open to your view! then would you see
it had wasted with anguish on the supposition of your death. Yes, Maria,
I thought you dead. I had a too exalted idea of your worth to assign any
other cause; I never called you cruel, or doubted your faith. Your
memory lived in my fond breast, such as my tenderness painted you. But
you can think meanly of me, and put the most ungenerous construction on
the severest affliction that ever tore the heart of man."
"Oh! my Grenville," said she, raising me, "how have I been ungenerous?
Is the renunciation of my country, relations, and even sex, a proof of
want of generosity? Will you never know, or, knowing, understand me? I
believe you have suffered, greatly suffered; your pallid countenance too
plainly evinces it; but we shall now, with the blessing of heaven, soon
see an end to them.--A few months will make me mistress of my fortune.
In the mean time, I will live with my faithful Hannah retired; only now
and then let me have the consolation of seeing you, and hearing from
your lips a confirmation that I have not forfeited your affection."
I said all that my heart dictated, to reassure my lovely heroic Maria,
and calm her griefs. I made her take some refreshment; and, as the night
was now far spent, and we yet had much to say, we agreed to pass it in
the tent. My dear Maria began to make me a little detail of all that had
passed. She painted out the persecutions of her father in the liveliest
colours; the many artifices he used to weaken her attachment to me; the
feigning me inconstant; and, when he found her opinion of my faith too
firmly rooted, he procured a certificate of my death. As she was then
released from her engagement, he more strongly urged her to marry; but
she as resolutely refused. On his being one day more than commonly
urgent, she knelt down, and said, in the most solemn manner; "Thou
knowest, O God! had it pleased thee to have continued him I doated on in
this life, that I was bound, by the most powerful asseverations, to be
his, and only his:--hear me now, O God! while I swear still to be wedded
to his memory. In thy eye, I was his wife; I attest thee to witness,
that I will never be any other. In his grave shall all my tenderness be
buried, and with him shall it rise to heaven." Her father became
outrageous; and swore, if she would not give him a son, he would give
her a mother; and, in consequence married the housekeeper--a woman
sordid as himself, and whose principles and sentiments were as low as
her birth.
The faithful Hannah had been discharged some time before, on finding out
she aided our correspondence. My letters had been for a long time
intercepted. Maria, one day, without the least notice, was taken out of
her chamber, and conveyed to a small house in the hundreds of Essex, to
some relations of her new mother's, in hopes, as she found, that grief,
and the unhealthiness of the place, might make an end of her before she
came of age. After a series of ill-usage and misfortunes, she at length
was so fortunate as to make her escape. She wrote to Hannah, who came
instantly to her; from her she learnt I was still living. She then
formed the resolution of coming over to Germany, dreading again falling
into the hands of her cruel parent. The plan was soon fixed on, and put
in execution. To avoid the dangers of travelling, they agreed to put on
men's cloaths; and Maria, to ensure her safety, dressed herself like an
English officer charged with dispatches to the British army.
While she was proceeding in her narrative, I heard the drum beat to
arms. I started, and turned pale. Maria hastily demanded the cause of
this alteration! I informed her, "We were going to prepare for battle.
And what, oh! what is to become of you? Oh! Maria! the service I am
going on is hazardous to the last degree. I shall fall a sacrifice; but
what will become of you?"
"Die with you," said she, firmly, rising, and drawing her sword. "When I
raise my arm," continued she, "who will know it is a woman's. Nature has
stamped me with that sex, but my soul shrinks not at danger. In what am
I different from the Romans, or even from some of the ancient Britons?
They could lose their lives for less cause than what I see before me. As
I am firmly resolved not to outlive you--so I am equally determined to
share your fate. You are certainly desirous my sex should remain
concealed. I wish the same--and, believe me, no womanish weakness on my
part shall betray it. Tell your commander, I am a volunteer under your
direction. And, assure yourself, you will find me possessed of
sufficient courage to bear any and every thing, for your sake."
I forbore not to paint out the horrors of war in the most dreadful
colours. "I shudder at them," said she, "but am not intimidated." In
short, all my arguments were in vain. She vowed she would follow me:
"Either you love me, Grenville, or you love me not--if the first, you
cannot refuse me the privilege of dying with you--if the last sad fate
should be mine, the sooner I lose my life the better." While I was yet
using dissuasives, the Captain entered my tent. "Come, Grenville," said
he, "make preparations, my good lad. There will be hot work to-day for
us all. I would have chosen a less dangerous situation for you: but this
was your own desire. However, I hope heaven will spare you."
"I could have almost wished I had not been so precipitate, as here is a
young volunteer who will accompany me."
"So young, and so courageous!" said the captain, advancing towards my
Maria. "I am sure, by your looks, you have never seen service."
"But I have gone through great dangers, Sir," she answered,
blushing--"and, with so brave an officer as Lieutenant Grenville, I
shall not be fearful of meeting even death."
"Well said, my little hero," rejoined he, "only, that as a volunteer you
have a right to chuse your commander, I should be happy to have the
bringing you into the field myself. Let us, however, as this may be the
last time we meet on earth, drink one glass to our success. Grenville,
you can furnish us." We soon then bid each other a solemn adieu!
I prevailed on Maria and poor Hannah (who was almost dead with her
fears) to lie down on my pallet-bed, if possible, to procure a little
rest. I retired to the outside of the tent, and, kneeling down, put up
the most fervent prayers to heaven that the heart of man could frame. I
then threw myself on some baggage, and slept with some composure till
the second drum beat.
Hannah hung round her mistress; but such was her respect and deference,
that she opened not her lips. We began our march, my brave heroine close
at my side, with all the stillness possible. We gained a narrow part of
the wood, where we wanted to make good our pass; but here, either by the
treachery of our own people, or the vigilance of our enemy, our scheme
was intirely defeated. We marched on without opposition, and, flushed
with the appearance of success, we went boldly on, till, too far
advanced to make a retreat, we found ourselves surrounded by a party of
the enemy's troops. We did all in our power to recover our advantage,
and lost several men in our defence. Numbers, however, at last
prevailed; and those who were not left dead on the field were made
prisoners, among whom were my Maria and myself. I was wounded in the
side and in the right arm. She providentially escaped unhurt. We were
conveyed to the camp of the enemy, where I was received with the respect
that one brave man shews another. I was put into the hospital, where my
faithful Maria attended me with the utmost diligence and tenderness.
When the event of this day's disaster was carried to the British camp,
it struck a damp on all. But poor Hannah, in a phrenzy of distress, ran
about, wringing her hands, proclaiming her sex, and that of the supposed
volunteer, and intreating the captain to use his interest to procure our
release. She gave him a brief detail of our adventures--and concluded by
extolling the character of her beloved mistress. The captain, who had
at that time a great regard for me, was touched at the distressful
story; and made a report to the commander in chief, who, after getting
the better of the enemy in an engagement, proposed an exchange of
prisoners, which being agreed to, and I being able to bear the removal,
we were once more at liberty.
I was conveyed to a small town near our encampment, where my dear Maria
and old Hannah laid aside their great Hussar cloaks, which they would
never be prevailed on to put off, and resumed their petticoats. This
adventure caused much conversation in the camp; and all the officers
were desirous of beholding so martial a female. But, notwithstanding the
extraordinary step she had been induced to take, Miss Maynard possessed
all the valued delicacy of her sex in a very eminent degree; and
therefore kept very recluse, devoting herself entirely to her attendance
on me.
Fearful that her reputation might suffer, now her sex was known, I urged
her to complete my happiness, by consenting to our marriage. She, at
first, made some difficulties, which I presently obviated; and the
chaplain of the regiment performed the ceremony, my Captain acting as
father, and, as he said, bestowing on me the greatest blessing a man
could deserve.
I was now the happiest of all earthly creatures, nor did I feel the
least allay, but in sometimes, on returning from duty in the field,
finding my Maria uncommonly grave. On enquiry she used to attribute it
to my absence; and indeed her melancholy would wear off, and she would
resume all her wonted chearfulness.
About three months after our marriage, my dear wife was seized with the
small-pox, which then raged in the town. I was almost distracted with my
apprehensions. Her life was in imminent danger. I delivered myself up
to the most gloomy presages. "How am I marked out for misfortune!" said
I, "am I destined to lose both my wives on the eve of their coming of
age?" Her disorder was attended with some of the most alarming symptoms.
At length, it pleased heaven to hear my prayers, and a favourable crisis
presented itself. With joy I made a sacrifice of her beauty, happy in
still possessing the mental perfections of this most excellent of women.
The fear of losing her had endeared her so much the more to me, that
every mark of her distemper, reminding me of my danger, served to render
her more valuable in my eyes. My caresses and tenderness were redoubled;
and the loss of charms, which could not make her more engaging to her
husband, gave my Maria no concern.
Our fears, however, were again alarmed on Hannah's account. That good
and faithful domestic caught the infection. Her fears, and attention on
her beloved mistress, had injured her constitution before this baleful
distemper seized her. She fell a sacrifice to it. Maria wept over the
remains of one who had rendered herself worthy of the utmost
consideration. It was a long time before she could recover her spirits.
When the remembrance of her loss had a little worn off, we passed our
time very agreeably; and I, one day, remarking the smiles I always found
on my Maria's face, pressed to know the melancholy which had formerly
given me so much uneasiness. "I may now," said she, "resolve your
question, without any hazard; the cause is now entirely removed. You
know there was a time when I was thought handsome; I never wished to
appear so in any other eyes than your's; unfortunately, another thought
so, and took such measures to make me sensible of the impression my
beauty had made, as rendered me truly miserable. Since I am as dear to
you as ever, I am happy in having lost charms that were fated to inspire
an impious passion in one, who, but for me, might have still continued
your friend."