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 fellows 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 emitted
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.