A few pages respecting the family of the De Bracys will here be
necessary for the clear understanding of our story.
Early in life Sir Oscar De Bracy and his sister, Anne, were left
orphans. On attaining his twenty-first year Sir Oscar, then a
lieutenant in the navy, came into possession of the family property.
His sister had gone abroad with her aunt, a Mrs. Webb, the widow of a
Colonel Webb, who dying, had left his wife a very handsome fortune.
Being in delicate health, Mrs. Webb was advised to try a warm climate;
so, taking her niece, at that time only seventeen, they proceeded to
the Continent, and settled for some time in Naples.
The Court of Naples, at this period, was accounted one of the most
corrupt in Europe; but Mrs. Webb, being of a retiring disposition,
lived in comparative seclusion, in a villa, situated on the River
Chiaga, then the favourite drive of the pleasure-seeking Neapolitans.
Anne De Bracy was charmed with the lovely scenery and the delicious
climate. At night she would sit for hours at her window, enjoying the
air, so refreshing after the heat of the day; as the moon stood high in
the heavens, silvering with its soft light the columns of smoke from
Vesuvius, as they rose upwards in curling wreaths towards heaven; then
the countless fishing skiffs, with their lights flashing in the waters
from their sterns, to attract the lobsters and large fish, which rise
at once to the light, and are caught. To Anne De Bracy, the tall, dark
figures on which the bright flames glanced, amid the calm stillness of
the moon-lit scene, appeared almost demon-like. Almost close beside
the handsome villas and mansions along the river, are to be seen the
strange dwellings of the poor fishermen, which are scooped out like
caves from the hard rock; many of them without any kind of window,
receiving the light and air needed from the open door.
Anne De Bracy, with her aunt, who rarely stirred abroad till evening,
used often to walk along the front of these primitive dwellings,
lighted within by the oil lamp, revealing to view the careless and
life-loving family within; the girls gaily singing and chatting at
times, the men mending nets, and making bark-woven baskets.
One evening, a rather sultry one, Mrs. Webb and her niece were walking
along the beach, when the former complained of a sudden faintness, and
before they could even reach one of the cottages, or rather caves, she
fainted in the frightened girl’s arms. Miss De Bracy uttered a cry
of alarm; and as she did so, a young man, in a fisherman’s costume,
rushed from behind a jutting rock, and ran forward in time to catch
Mrs. Webb in his arms.
“She has only fainted, lady,” said the stranger, as he bore the
insensible Mrs. Webb towards the rock, from which ran a rill of pure
water, with which he gently bathed her face. “Do not be frightened, she
will soon revive.”
Now that she was no longer alone, Miss De Bracy was less alarmed;
but the tones of the fisherman’s voice, his manner and appearance,
surprised her, as by the strong light of a full moon she gazed at him.
He was a tall, handsome man, much fairer than the generality of the
Neapolitans; his attire the same picturesque costume as that of the
fishermen, but better, and of finer materials; whilst he spoke pure
Italian, but not the Neapolitan dialect.
“This is no fisherman,” thought the young girl, as she thanked the
stranger, who was holding the pungent essence contained in a bottle to
her aunt’s nostrils; who in a very short time was able to continue the
walk.
Looking up at the motionless figure of the fisherman, Mrs. Webb
politely thanked him, and taking a few silver coins from her purse,
she begged him to accept them. Her niece’s eyes were fixed upon the
stranger; and she saw his dark cheek flush, and his still darker eyes
sparkle with a strange expression; but he at once said, gently putting
back Mrs. Webb’s hand—
“No, lady; not for a service of this kind; your thanks are ample
reward.”
And with a look of unmistakable admiration at Anne De Bracy, which
called the hot blood to her cheek, he made a graceful salute, and
retired amongst the rocks.
“How very odd, Anne,” said Mrs. Webb; “what an uncommonly handsome,
graceful kind of person for a fisherman. I fear I frightened you, dear.”
“I was not so much frightened, aunt,” answered the niece, thoughtfully;
“but as we were some little distance from help, I did not exactly
know what to do, till this stranger ran up and carried you here, and
sprinkled your face with water.”
“He is certainly a very handsome fisherman,” observed Mrs. Webb; “we
have seen, I think, all our neighbours here, and I certainly never
remarked him.”
“I do not think he is a fisherman,” replied Miss De Bracy, with a
smile, as they slowly proceeded home.
“Then what can he be, Anne?” questioned the aunt; “this is no
masquerading time.”
That question Anne De Bracy cared not to answer; she could conjecture,
but that was all.
Our space will not permit us to dwell upon all the events of Anne De
Bracy’s life; we must only touch on its important parts briefly, till
we bring her again before our readers as the unfortunate Duchess de
Coulancourt.
The handsome fisherman was Mr. Granby Arden, the elder brother of Sir
Godfrey Etherton. Of a strange and eccentric character, but possessed
of a highly cultivated mind, he, by his peculiar mode of thinking and
reading, imbibed a decided aversion to all monarchical governments. His
great-great-grandfather had been a stanch supporter of Oliver Cromwell,
and had lost his life in opposing the return of Charles II. His estates
were mostly all forfeited to the Crown, so that the two brothers
inherited but moderate fortunes. Mr. Granby Arden, however, succeeded
to his mother’s property, an income of some twelve or fourteen hundred
a year, whilst Godfrey Arden entered the navy.
Granby Arden, when two-and-twenty, passed over into France; where his
prejudice against kings and rulers, even at that period, had abundant
supporters. With a perfect knowledge of the French, Italian, and German
languages, his handsome person and persuasive eloquence, aided by a
voice remarkable for its rich and powerful tones, soon caused him to be
remarked in the political circles of the capital of France. Louis XVI.
had just commenced his career of troubles—the monarchy of France was
at this time a pure despotism—but the resources of the realm and the
energies of the people were wasted and paralysed.
Granby Arden became the associate of Diderot and D’Alembert; he
read with avidity the pungent writings of Voltaire, upsetting all
preconceived notions by satire and sarcasm; and Rousseau, who, by his
appeals to the passions, worked to frenzy by his high wrought pictures
those minds stirred by doubt.
Though a hater of royalty and despotism, in every shape and form,
Granby Arden was of a kind and generous nature; he, however, so
involved himself in political intrigues, that, in the end, he was
forced to fly from Paris—for the time was not yet come for the
overthrow of all the ancient usages of the kingdom.
Granby Arden went to Italy. The corrupt court of Naples and the
licentiousness of the Queen and her supposed lover and minister,
Acton, induced him whilst there to join in a secret intrigue to upset
the Government. To carry out his own and the projects of others, he
disguised himself as a fisherman, and dwelt with one of their body for
a time in their caves on the Riviere di Chiaga, and there love, for the
time, overturned all his projects.
He saw, and became desperately enamoured of, Miss Anne de Bracy.
Granby Arden’s name in England was notorious for his political
opinions; and he well knew, when he made himself known to Miss de
Bracy, and gained her love, that her brother, Sir Oscar de Bracy, a
distinguished officer in the navy, would never give his consent to
their marriage.
We need not detail with minuteness a very common occurrence; his
eloquence overpowered all the fair girl’s arguments; she was beloved
and loved, and, as women will do, confided in him she loved, and
they fled from Naples together, without leaving a trace behind them,
nor could Mrs. Webb give any explanation of her niece’s mysterious
disappearance. At Sienna, Anne de Bracy became Mrs. Arden, and, near
Leghorn, they took a very pretty cottage, and for a time love banished
politics from Mr. Arden’s mind.
Whilst residing in that vicinity, Mr. Arden became acquainted with
Lord Hood, then only a post-captain, whose ship was off Leghorn; and
who one night would have fallen a victim to assassination, being taken
for another officer, had not Mr. Arden, who chanced to be returning
home, come to his assistance, and struck down one of the assassins—the
other fled. An intimacy ensued; and before Captain Hood sailed, Mr.
Arden stated to him that he was a married man, and introduced him to
his beautiful wife, but did not mention her maiden name. Shortly after
Captain Hood’s departure, a son was born to Mr. Arden, and called
Julian; and, in due course, a daughter, who was named Mabel; after
which, they travelled into Switzerland, but always under a feigned
name; and, finally, when Julian Arden had reached his sixth year, and
little Mabel her third, letters were received from Paris which induced
Mr. Arden to return to that city, notwithstanding his wife’s tears
and entreaties, leaving his wife and children in a cottage he rented
near Lyons, and before three months had expired fell in a duel with an
officer of the guards.
We need scarcely say the grief and agony of the bereaved wife was
terrible; but, before she could rouse herself from her distraction, and
fly into other lands with her children, the revolution which had broken
out presented a barrier to flight. The cottage Mrs. Arden inhabited was
upon the estate of the Duke de Coulancourt, a nobleman of considerable
wealth, high birth, and a confirmed friend of the unfortunate king;
he was at this time in his forty-eighth year, and unmarried. The
persecution of Collet D’Herbois, who headed a violent party in Lyons,
drove Mrs. Arden to seek the protection of her landlord, the duke.
The aristocracy were not yet overthrown, though they still possessed
only a shadow of power. The duke imprisoned D’Herbois, and, struck by
the beauty and grace of the fair widow, for the first time felt the
influence of female beauty, and after a lapse of eighteen months,
Mrs. Arden became Duchess de Coulancourt. Three years after her first
husband’s death she accompanied the duke to an estate in Normandy, from
whence his title was derived.
The unfortunate king was then in the last stage of his miserable
greatness. The Duke de Coulancourt, who adored his wife, and who was
the kindest of fathers to her children, executed a deed constituting
her his sole heiress. He then, as affairs were getting in a terrible
state in the capital, implored her to take refuge in his château
near Lyons, where the Royalists existed in force, promising he would
follow after one more effort to serve his royal master; and should he
fail, they would fly to Italy or to England. Alas! like many another
noble and devoted heart, his head was placed beneath the axe of the
guillotine—his last thoughts being his God and his beloved wife.
We are already aware of the persecutions the duchess a second time
endured from Collet D’Herbois, raised into power by the revolution, and
destined to become one of its ministers.
There was, however, another enemy—Monsieur de Montaut—the duchess had
to fear, though she knew it not. This enemy, however, had no wish to
bring her head beneath the guillotine; for, the duke having executed a
deed bequeathing his estates and property to his wife, this Monsieur
de Montaut would, as the duke’s cousin, upon her death, succeed to
the property. As to the title, he cared not about it; he was a rank
revolutionist, and titles were extinct; but he knew that if the duchess
were beheaded by order of the Government, the estates would go to the
nation. His object, therefore, was to secure the person of the duchess,
and, if he could not force her to marry him, he would, at all events,
frighten her into executing a deed in his favour. Afterwards, as he
possessed considerable power, he intended to connive at her escape to
England, his party being at that time in the ascendancy.
By means of spies, Montaut ascertained that Jean Plessis had contrived
to rescue the duchess, a rescue he could not achieve. He traced her
to Toulon, but was not able to discover for some days where she was
concealed; but, having done so, he laid his plans for securing her
person, and her daughter’s also. Having succeeded, as regarded the
former, in the manner already related, the duchess was carried, quite
unconscious who was her abductor, to his château near Lyons, on the
banks of the Rhone.
Monsieur de Montaut was a perfect stranger to the Duchess de
Coulancourt. She thought herself in the power of Collet d’Herbois, and,
in the midst of her cruel grief at being torn from her daughter, she
yet congratulated herself that she had saved her child, and the casket
of valuable jewels, together with many most important papers.
The château of Monsieur Gamel Maria de Montaut was some fourteen
leagues from Lyons, seated on a slight eminence above the Rhone, and
surrounded by dense woods.
Jean Plessis, with incredible energy and perseverance, had contrived
to track the duchess to her place of confinement. Satisfied that her
person and life were safe, though in the power of a revolutionary
chief, he returned to Toulon, with the intention of disposing of two
or three houses, and then devote himself to the liberation of madame.
The English fleet was still before Toulon, and, ascertaining that Mabel
was on board the Robust with Madame Volney, he wrote the letter our
hero received, and paid two fishermen to deliver it on board the Babet.
Then, having disposed of his houses to a notary, and received the
purchase-money, he contrived, by disguising himself, and becoming for
the time a furious partisan of the Republic, to set about his schemes
for the delivery of the duchess from the power of Monsieur de Montaut,
who was then one of the Republican commissioners in Lyons.
This would not have been difficult in the fearfully disorganised state
of France; but, unfortunately, Jean Plessis became suspected, was
suddenly arrested and thrown into prison, and was condemned to death;
but at that critical moment Robespierre and the Reign of Terror ceased
to exist, and Montaut himself was dragged, with his colleagues, to
the guillotine, and, amidst the shouts and rejoicings of the people,
beheaded.
Madame de Coulancourt was conveyed to Paris, and remained some time
confined in the Abbey. Finally, as things settled into tranquillity
under the Directory, she was brought to trial. Nothing whatever
appearing to criminate her, she was released, and left in full
possession of her estates, but strictly prohibited, under pain of
forfeiture of her property and imprisonment, either to leave the
country, or in any way, by letter or message, to communicate with
England.
Madame de Coulancourt, grateful to Providence for her preservation from
so many perils, selected a handsome mansion in Paris for residence,
where she looked forward with hope to peace to restore her daughter to
her; her son she firmly believed to have been beheaded. Some months
after Jean Plessis obtained his liberty, and soon learned by diligent
inquiries the fate of Madame de Coulancourt, and at once set out for
Paris, thus relieving Madame de Coulancourt’s mind from great anxiety
on his and his family’s account, for she feared he had perished in
attempting her deliverance.