Understanding the delicacy of Santa Cruz, in thus having withdrawn; and to leave the room free for his return, the Pastor retired with his family into the library, where they listened without interruption to a brief account of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 atten[161]tion 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[162] 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[163] 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!"[164] 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[165] 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 recol[166]lection 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[167] 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?"[168] "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 con[169]fidence, 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[170] 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[171] 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[172] 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[173] 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 pro[174]phesy 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[175] 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[176] 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[177] 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[178] 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[179] 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[180] 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[181] 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[182] 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[183] 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[184] 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[185] 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 ves[186]sel 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[187] 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[188] 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[189] 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[190] 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[191] 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 re[192]flections 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.