 | CHAPTER XX. Ormond, or, The secret witness |  |
20. CHAPTER XX.
My father, in proportion as he grew old and
rich, became weary of Aleppo. His natal soil,
had it been the haunt of Calmucks or Bedwins,
his fancy would have transformed into Paradise.
No wonder that the equitable aristocracy, and the
peaceful husbandmen of Ragusa, should be endeared
to his heart by comparison with Egyptian
plagues and Turkish tyranny. Besides, he lived
for his children as well as himself. Their education
and future lot required him to seek a permanent
home.
He embarked with his wife and offspring, at
Scanderoon. No immediate conveyance to Ragusa
offering, the appearance of the plague in
Syria, induced him to hasten his departure. He
entered a French vessel for Marseilles. After being
three days at sea, one of the crew was seized
by the fatal disease, which had depopulated all
the towns upon the coast. The voyage was made
with more than usual dispatch, but before we
reached our port, my mother and half the crew
perished. My father died in the Lazzaretto, more
through grief than disease.
My brother and I were children and helpless.
My father's fortune was on board this vessel, and
was left by his death to the mercy of the captain.
This man was honest, and consigned us and our
property to the merchant with whom he dealt.
Happily for us, our protector was childless and
of scrupulous integrity. We henceforth became
his adopted children. My brother's education
and my own, were conducted on the justest
principles.
At the end of four years, our protector found
it expedient to make a voyage to Cayenne. His
brother was an extensive proprietor in that colony,
but his sudden death made way for the succession
of our friend. To establish his claims, his
presence was necessary on the spot. He was little
qualified for arduous enterprizes, and his age
demanded repose, but his own acquisitions, having
been small, and being desirous of leaving us
in possession of competence, he cheerfully embarked.
Meanwhile, my brother was placed at a celebrated
seminary in the Pais de Vaud, and I was
sent to a sister who resided at Verona. I was at
this time fourteen years old, one year younger
neither heard of nor seen.
I was now a woman, and qualified to judge
and act for myself. The character of my new
friend was austere and devout, and there were
so many incongenial points between us, that but
little tranquillity was enjoyed under her controul.
The priest who discharged the office of her confessor,
thought proper to entertain views with
regard to me, grossly inconsistent with the sanctity
of his profession. He was a man of profound
dissimulation and masterly address. His efforts,
however, were repelled with disdain. My security
against his attempts lay in the uncouthness
and deformity which nature had bestowed upon
his person and visage, rather than in the firmness
of my own principles.
The courtship of Father Bartoli, the austerities
of Madame Roselli, the disgustful or insipid
occupations to which I was condemned, made
me impatiently wish for a change, but my father,
so I will call him, had decreed that I should remain
under his sister's guardianship till his return
from Guiana. When this would happen was uncertain.
Events unforeseen might protract it for
years, but it could not arrive in less than a twelvemonth.
I was incessantly preyed upon by discontent.
My solitude was loathsome. I panted after liberty
and friendship, and the want of these were
not recompensed by luxury and quiet, and by the
instructions in useful science, which I received
from Bartoli, who, though detested as an hypocrite
and lover, was venerable as a scholer: He
would fain have been an Abelard, but it was not
his fate to meet with an Heloise.
Two years passed away in this durance. My
miseries were exquisite. I am almost at a loss to
back upon it, I perceive that an equal period
could not have been spent with more benefit.
For the sake of being near me, Bartoli importunately
offered his instructions. He had nothing
to communicate but metaphysics and geometry.
These were little to my taste, but I could not
keep him at distance. I had no other alternative
than to endure him as a lover or a teacher. His
passion for science was at least equal to that
which he entertained for me, and both these passions
combined to make him a sedulous instructor.
He was a disciple of the newest doctrines
respecting matter and mind. He denied the impenetrability
of the first, and the immateriality
of the second. These he endeavoured to inculcate
upon me, as well as to subvert my religious
tenets, because he delighted, like all men, in
transfusing his opinions, and because he regarded
my piety as the only obstacle to his designs.
He succeeded in dissolving the spell of ignorance,
but not in producing that kind of acquiescence he
wished. He had, in this respect, to struggle not
only with my principles, but my weaknesses.
He might have overcome every obstacle, but my
abhorrence of deformity and age. To cure me
of this aversion, was beyond his power. My servitude
grew daily more painful. I grew tired of
chasing a comet to its aphelion, and of untying
the knot of an infinite series. A change in my
condition became indispensable to my very existence.
Langour and sadness, and unwillingness
to eat or to move, were at last my perpetual attendants.
Madame Roselli was alarmed at my condition.
The sources of my inquietude were incomprehensible
to her. The truth was, that I scarcely understood
them myself, and my endeavours to explain
an opinion, that I was either lunatic or deceitful.
She complained and admonished, but my disinclination
to my usual employments would not be conquered,
and my health rapidly declined. A physician,
who was called, confessed that my case
was beyond his power to understand, but recommended,
as a sort of desperate expedient, a
change of scene. A succession and variety of
objects, might possibly contribute to my cure.
At this time there arrived at Verona, Lady
D'Arcy, an English-woman of fortune and rank,
and a strenuous Catholic. Her husband had lately
died, and in order to divert her grief, as well
as to gratify her curiosity in viewing the great
seat of her religion, she had come to Italy. Intercourse
took place between her and Madame
Roselli. By this means she gained a knowledge
of my person and condition, and kindly offered
to take me under her protection. She meant to
traverse every part of Italy, and was willing that
I should accompany her in all her wanderings.
This offer was gratefully accepted, in spite of
the artifices and remonstrances of Bartoli. My
companion speedily contracted for me the affection
of a mother. She was without kindred of
her own religion, having acquired her faith, not
by inheritance, but conversion. She desired to
abjure her native country, and to bind herself by
every social tie, to a people who adhered to the
same faith. Me, she promised to adopt as her
daughter, provided her first impressions in my
favor, were not belied by my future deportment.
My principles were opposite to her's, but habit,
an aversion to displease my friend, my passion
for knowledge, which my new condition enabled
me to gratify, all combined to make me a
kind; I deceived her rather by forbearance
to contradict, and by acting as she acted,
than by open assent and zealous concurrence.
My new state was, on this account, not devoid
of inconvenience. The general deportment and
sentiments of Lady D'Arcy, testified a vigorous
and pure mind. New avenues to knowledge, by
converse with mankind and with books, and by
the survey of new scenes, were open for my use.
Gratitude and veneration attached me to my
friend, and made the task of pleasing her by a
seeming conformity of sentiments, less irksome.
During this interval, no tidings were received
by his sister, at Verona, respecting the fate of
Sebastian Roselli. The supposition of his death,
was too plausible, not to be adopted. What influence
this disaster possessed over my brother's
destiny, I know not. The generosity of Lady
D'Arcy, hindered me from experiencing any disadvantage
from this circumstance. Fortune
seemed to have decreed, that I should not be reduced
to the condition of an orphan.
At an age and in a situation like mine, I could
not remain long unacquainted with love. My
abode at Rome, introduced me to the knowledge
of a youth from England, who had every property
which I regarded as worthy of esteem.
He was a kinsman of Lady D'Arcy, and as such
admitted at her house on the most familiar footing.
His patrimony was extremely slender, but
was in his own possession. He had no intention
of increasing it by any professional pursuit, but
was contented with the frugal provision it afforded.
He proposed no other end of his existence,
than the acquisition of virtue and knowledge.
The property of Lady D'Arcy was subject to
her own disposal, but, on the failure of a testament,
this youth was, in legal succession, the
next heir. He was well acquainted with her
temper and views, but in the midst of urbanity
and gentleness, studied none of those concealments
of opinion, which would have secured him
her favor. That he was not of her own faith,
was an insuperable, but the only obstacle, to the
admission of his claims.
If conformity of age and opinions, and the mutual
fascination of love, be a suitable basis for
marriage Wentworth and I were destined for
each other. Mutual disclosure added sanctity to
our affection, but the happiness of Lady D'Arcy,
being made to depend upon the dissolution of
our compact, the heroism of Wentworth made
him hasten to dissolve it. As soon as she discovered
our attachment, she displayed symptoms of
the deepest anguish. In addition to religious
motives, her fondness for me forbad her to exist
but in my society, and in the belief of the purity of
my faith. The contention, on my part, was vehement,
between the regards due to her felicity
and to my own. Had Wentworth left me the
power to decide, my decision would doubtless
have evinced the frailty of my fortitude, and the
strength of my passion, but having informed me
fully of the reasons of his conduct, he precipitately
retired from Rome. He left me no means
of tracing his footsteps and of assailing his weakness,
by expostulation and intreaty.
Lady D'Arcy was no less eager to abandon a
spot, where her happiness had been so iminently
endangered. Our next residence was Palermo.
I will not dwell upon the sensations, produced by
this disappointment, in me. I review them with
astonishment and self-compassion. If I thought
ignominious, I should be disposed to kill myself.
There was no end to vows of fondness and tokens
of gratitude in Lady D'Arcy. Her future
life should be devoted to compensate me for this
sacrifice. Nothing could console her in that single
state in which she intended to live, but the
consolations of my fellowship. Her conduct coincided
for some time with these professions, and
my anguish was allayed by the contemplation of
the happiness conferred upon one whom I revered.
My friend could not be charged with dissimulation
and artifice. Her character had been mistaken
by herself as well as by me. Devout affections
seemed to have filled her heart, to the
exclusion of any object besides myself. She cherished
with romantic tenderness, the memory of
her husband, and imagined that a single state was
indispensibly enjoined upon her, by religious
duty. This persuasion, however, was subverted
by the arts of a Spanish Cavalier, young, opulent,
and romantic as herself in devotion. An
event like this might, indeed, have been easily
predicted, by those who reflected that the lady
was still in the bloom of life, ardent in her temper
and bewitching in her manners.
The fondness she had lavished upon me, was
now, in some degree, transferred to a new object,
but I still received the treatment due to a
beloved daughter. She was solicitous as ever to
promote my gratification, and a diminution of
kindness would not have been suspected, by
those who had not witnessed the excesses of her
former passion. Her marriage with the Spaniard
removed the obstacle to union with Wentworth.
This man, however, had set himself beyond
the reach of my enquiries. Had there
certainly have sought him to the ends of the
world.
I continued to reside with my friend, and accompanied
her and her husband to Spain. Antonio
de Leyva was a man of probity. His mind
was enlightened by knowledge and his actions
dictated by humanity. Though but little older
than myself, and young enough to be the son of
his spouse, his deportment to me was a model of
rectitude and delicacy. I spent a year in Spain,
partly in the mountains of Castile and partly at
Segovia. New manners and a new language occupied
my attention for a time, but these, losing
their novelty, lost their power to please. I betook
myself to books, to beguile the tediousness
and diversify the tenor of my life.
This would not have long availed, but I was
relieved from new repinings, by the appointment
of Antonio de Leyva to a diplomatic office at Vienna.
Thither we accordingly repaired. A coincidence
of circumstances had led me wide
from the path of ambition and study, usually allotted
to my sex and age. From the computation
of eclipses, I now betook myself to the study
of man. My proficiency, when I allowed it to
be seen, attracted great attention. Instead of
adulation and gallantry, I was engaged in watching
the conduct of states, and revolving the theories
of politicians.
Superficial observers were either incredulous
with regard to my character, or connected a stupid
wonder with their belief. My attainments and
habits, they did not see to be perfectly consonant
with the principles of human nature. They
unavoidably flowed from the illicit attachment of
Bartoli, and the erring magnanimity of Wentworth.
Aversion to the priest was the grand ineiter
whom I hoped once more to meet, made
me labour to exclude the importunities of others,
and to qualify myself for securing his affections.
Since our parting in Italy, Wentworth had traversed
Syria and Egypt, and arrived some months
after me at Vienna. He was on the point of
leaving the city, when accident informed me of
his being there. An interview was effected, and
our former sentiments respecting each other, having
undergone no change, we were united. Madame
de Leyva reluctantly concurred with our
wishes, and, at parting, forced upon me a considerable
sum of money.
Wentworth's was a character not frequently met
with in the world. He was a political enthusiast,
who esteemed nothing more graceful or glorious
than to die for the liberties of mankind.
He had traversed Greece with an imagination
full of the exploits of ancient times, and derived
from contemplating Thermopylœ and Marathon,
an enthusiasm that bordered upon phrenzy.
It was now the third year of the revolutionary
war in America, and previous to our meeting at
Vienna, he had formed the resolution of repairing
thither, and tendering his service to the Congress
as a volunteer. Our marriage made no
change in his plans. My soul was engrossed by
two passions, a wild spirit of adventure, and a
boundless devotion to him. I vowed to accompany
him in every danger, to vie with him in military
ardour; to combat and to die by his side.
I delighted to assume the male dress, to acquire
skill at the sword, and dexterity in every
boisterous exercise. The timidity that commonly
attends women, gradually vanished. I felt as
if embued by a soul that was a stranger to the
frigate destined for St. Domingo. A desperate
conflict with an English ship in the bay of Biscay,
was my first introduction to a scene of tumult and
danger, of whose true nature I had formed no
previous conception. At first I was spiritless and
full of dismay. Experience however gradually
reconciled me to the life that I had chosen.
A fortunate shot by dismasting the enemy, allowed
us to prosecute our voyage unmolested.
At Cape François we found a ship which transported
us, after various perils, to Richmond in
Virginia. I will not carry you through the adventures
of four years. You, sitting all your life
in peaceful corners, can scarcely imagine that variety
of hardship and turmoil, which attends the
female who lives in a camp.
Few would sustain these hardships with better
grace than I did. I could seldom be prevailed
on to remain at a distance and inactive, when my
husband was in battle, and more than once rescued
him from death by the seasonable destruetion
of his adversary.
At the repulse of the Americans at German-Town,
Wentworth was wounded and taken prisoner.
I attained permission to attend his sick
bed and supply that care, without which he would
assuredly have died. Being imperfectly recovered,
he was sent to England, and subjected to a
rigorous imprisonment. Milder treatment might
have permitted his compleat restoration to health,
but, as it was, he died.
His kindred were noble, and rich and powerful,
but it was difficult to make them acquainted
with Wentworth's situation. Their assistance
when demanded was readily afforded, but it came
too late to prevent his death. Me they snatched
from my voluntary prison, and employed every
recent calamity.
Wentworth's singularities of conduct and opinion,
had estranged him at an early age from his
family. They felt little regret at his fate, but
every motive concurred to secure their affection
and succour to me. My character was known to
many officers, returned from America, whose report,
joined with the influence of my conversation,
rendered me an object to be gazed at by
thousands. Strange vicissitude! Now immersed
in the infection of a military hospital, the sport of
a wayward fortune, struggling with cold and hunger,
with negligence and contumely: A month
after passing into scenes of gaiety and luxury, exhibited
at operas and masquerades, made the
theme of enquiry and encomium at every place
of resort, and caressed by the most illustrious
among the votaries of science, and the advocates
of the American cause.
Here I again met Madame de Leyva. This
woman was perpetually assuming new forms.
She was a sincere convert to the Catholic religion,
but she was open to every new impression. She
was the dupe of every powerful reasoner, and assumed
with equal facility the most opposite shapes.
She had again reverted to the Protestant religion,
and governed by an headlong zeal in whatever
cause she engaged, she had sacrificed her husband
and child to a new conviction.
The instrument of this change, was a man who
passed, at that time, for a Frenchman. He was
young, accomplished and addressful, but was not
suspected of having been prompted by illicit
views, or of having seduced the lady from allegiance
to her husband as well as to her God. De
Leyva, however, who was sincere in his religion
as well as his love, was hasty to avenge this injury,
killed. His wife adopted at once, her ancient
religion and country, and was once more an English-woman.
At our meeting, her affection for me seemed
to be revived, and the most passionate intreaties
were used to detain me in England. My previous
arrangements would not suffer it. I foresaw
restraints and inconveniences from the violence
and caprice of her passions, and intended henceforth
to keep my liberty inviolate by any species
of engagement, either of friendship or marriage.
My habits were French, and I proposed hence-forward
to take up my abode at Paris. Since his
voyage to Guiana, I had heard no tidings of Sebastian
Roselli. This man's image was cherished
with filial emotions, and I conceived that the
sight of him would amply reward a longer journey
than from London to Marseilles.
Beyond my hopes, I found him in his ancient
abode. The voyage and a residence of three
years at Cayenne, had been beneficial to his appearance
and health. He greeted me with paternal
tenderness, and admitted me to a full participation
of his fortune, which the sale of his
American property had greatly inhanced. He
was a stranger to the fate of my brother. On his
return home, he had gone to Swisserland with a
view of ascertaining his destiny. The youth, a
few months after his arrival at Lausanne, had
eloped with a companion, and had hitherto eluded
all Roselli's searches and enquiries. My father
was easily prevailed upon to transfer his residence
from Provence to Paris.
Here Martinette paused, and marking the
clock, It is time, resumed she, to be gone. Are
you not weary of my tale? On the day I entered
France, I entered the twenty-third year of my
adventures is fulfilled. I must away: Till we
meet again, farewell.
| CHAPTER XX. Ormond, or, The secret witness | |