Cerise. A tale of the last century. Third edition

Chapter I. Lady Hamilton

"pIEISSlHE daisies we string in chains before ten, |8 IpK we tread under foot without compunction STZjTy^x after twenty. Cerise, pacing a noble terrace rolled and levelled beneath the windows of her husband's home, gave no thought to the humble petals bending to her light footfall, and rising again when it passed on; gave no thought to the flaring hollyhocks, the crimson roses, all the bright array of autumn's gaudier flowers flaunting about her in the imposing splendour of maturity ; gave no thought even to the fair expanse of moor and meadow, dale and dingle, copse and corn-field, wood, wold, and water, on which her eyes were bent. VOL. III. B CERISE. She might have travelled many a mile, too, even through beautiful England, without beholding such a scene. Overhead, the sky, clear and pure in the late summer, or the early autumn, seemed but of a deeper blue, because flecked here and there with wind-swept streaks of misty white.

Around her glowed, in Nature's gaudiest patchwork, all the garden beauty that had survived July. On a lower level by a few inches lay a smooth, trim bowling green, dotted with its unfinished game ; and down ward still, foot by foot, like a wide green staircase, row after row of terraces were banked, and squared, and spread between their close-cut black yew hedges, till they descended to the ivy-grown wall that divided pleasure-ground from park. Here, slopes of tufted grass, swelling into bolder outlines as they receded, rolled, like the volume of a freshening sea, into knolls, and dips, and ridges, feathered in waving fern — dotted with goodly oaks — traversed by deep, narrow glades, in which the deer were feeding — shy, wild and undisturbed. Beyond this, again, the variegated plain, rich in orchards, hedgerows, and enclosures studded with shocks of corn, seamed too by the silver of more than one glistening stream, was girdled by a belt of purple moorland ; while, in the far distance, the horizon was shut in by a long low range of hills, lost in a grey-blue vapour, where they melted into sky.

Behind her stood the grim and weather-worn mansion, with its thick stone walls, dented, battered, and defaced, as if it had defied a thousand tempests and more than one siege, which, indeed, was the fact. Every old woman in the country-side could tell how the square grey keep, at the end of the south wing, had resisted the Douglas, and there was no mistaking Cromwell's handwriting on more than one rent in the comparatively modern portions of the building. Hamilton Hill, though it had never been called a fort, a castle, or even a hall, was known far and wide for a stronghold, that, well supplied and garrisoned, might keep fifty miles of the surrounding district in check ; and the husband of Cerise was now lord of Hamilton Hill. No longer the soldier adventurer, the leader of Grey Musketeers, compound of courtier and bravo — no longer the doubtful skipper of a suspicious craft, half-trader, half-pirate — Sir George Hamilton, with position, property, tenants, and influence, found himself a very different person from the Captain George who used to relieve guard at the Palais Royal, and lay " The Bashful Maid" broadside on to b CERISE. a Spanish galleon deep in the water, with her colours down and her foresail aback, a rich prize and an easy prey.

Ere the brigantine had dropped her anchor in the first English port she made, George received intelligence of his far-off kinsman's death, and his own succession to a noble inheritance. It came at an opportune moment, and he was disposed to make the most of it. Therefore it was that Cerise (now Lady Hamilton) looked from the lofty terrace over many a mile of fair English scenery, much of which belonged, like herself, to the man she loved. They were fairly settled now, and had taken their established place — no lowly station — amongst their neighbours. Precedence had not, indeed, been yielded them without a struggle ; for in the last as in the present century, detraction claimed a fair fling at all new-comers, and not what they were, but who they were, was the important ques tion amongst a provincial aristocracy, who made up by minute inquiry for the limited sphere of their research.

At first people whispered that the hus band was an adventurer and the wife an actress. Well, if not an actress, at least a dancing-girl, whom he had picked up in Spain, in Paris, in the West Indies, at Tangiers, Tripoli, or Japan ! Lady Hamilton's beauty, her refined manners, her exquisite dresses, warranted the meanest opinion of her in the minds of her own sex ; and although, when they could no longer conceal from themselves that she was a Montmirail of the real Montmirails, they were obliged to own she had at least the advantage of high birth, I doubt if they loved her any better than before. They pitied Sir George, they said, one and all — "He, if you like, was charming. He had been page to the great King ; he had been adored by the ladies of the French Court ; he had killed a Prince of the Blood in a duel ; he had sacked a convent of Spanish nuns, and wore the rosary of the Lady Abbess under his waistcoat ; he had been dreadfully wicked, but he was so polite ! he had the bel air ; he had the tourneur Louis Quatorze ; he had the manners of the princes, and the electors, and the archdukes now passing away.

Such men would be impossible soon ; and to think he could have been entrapped by that tawdry Frenchified Miss, with her airs and graces, her fans and furbelows, and yards of the best Mechlin lace on the dress she went gardening in ! It was nothing to them, of course, that the man should have committed such an absurdity ; but, in common humanity, they could CERISE. not help being sorry for it, and, unless they were very much deceived, so was he ! " With the squires, again, and county grandees of the male sex, including two or three baronets, a knight of the shire, and the lord-lieutenant himself, it was quite different. These honest gentlemen, whether fresh and fasting in the morning, or bemused with claret towards the afternoon, pros trated themselves before Cerise, and did homage to her charms.

Her blue eyes, her rosy lips, the way her gloves fitted, the slender proportions of her feet, the influence of her soft, sweet manner, resulting from a kindly, innocent heart — above all, the foreign accent, which added yet another grace, childish, mirth-inspiring, and bewitching, to every thing she said — caused men of all ages and opinions to place their necks voluntarily beneath the yoke. They swore by her ; they toasted her ; they broke glasses innumerable in her honour ; they vowed, with repeated imprecations, nothing had ever been seen like her before; and they held out to her husband the right hand of fellowship, as much for her sake as for his own. Sir George's popularity increased on acquaintance. A man who could fly a hawk with science — who could kill his game on the wing — who could ride any horse perfectly straight over any part of their country — who seemed to care very little for politics, except in so far as that the rights of venerie should be protected — who was reputed a consummate swordsman, and seen, on occasion, to empty his bottle of claret with exceeding good-will — was not likely to remain long in the background amongst. the hardy northern gentlemen with whom his lot was cast.

Very soon Sir George Hamilton's society was sought as eagerly by both sexes, as his wife's beauty was admired by the one and envied — shall I say denied? — by the other. Notwithstanding female criticism, which female instinct may possibly rate at its true value, Cerise found herself very happy. Certainly, the life she led was very different from that to which she had been accustomed in her youth. An English lady of the last century devoted much of her time to duties that are now generally performed by a housekeeper, and Cerise had resolved to become a thorough English lady, simply, I imagine, because she thought it would please George. So she rose early, inspected the dairies, betrayed contemptible ignorance in the manufacture of butter and cream, reviewed vast stores of linen, put her white arms through a coarse canvas apron, and splashed little CERISE. dabs of jam upon her delicate nose, with the con viction that she was a perfectly competent and efficient housewife.

Such occupations, if more healthy, were certainly less exciting than the ever recurring gaieties of the family hotel in Paris, less agreeable than the luxurious tropical indolence of Montmirail-West. There were servants, plenty of them, at Hamilton Hill, who would literally have shed their blood in defence of their mistress, but they showed neither the blind obedience of the negro nor the shrewd readiness of the Parisian domestic. On the con trary, they seemed persuaded that length of service entitled them to be obstinate, perverse, and utterly negligent of orders. There were two or three seniors of whom Lady Hamilton positively stood in awe, and an old grey-headed butler, perfectly useless from gout and obesity, would expostulate angrily with his mistress for walking bareheaded on the terrace in an east wind.

That same east wind, too, was another trial to Cerise. It gave her cold, it made her shiver, and she was almost afraid it some times made her cross. There were drawbacks, you see, even to a love-match, a fortune, and Hamilton Hill! Yet she was very happy. She continually repeated to herself how happy she was. To be sure, she missed her mother's society, missed it far more than she expected when at first she acquired the freedom of the Matron's Guild. Perhaps, too, she may have missed the incense of flattery so delicately offered at the receptions of the Marquise ; nay, even the ponderous and well-turned compliments of the Prince-Marshal, who, to do him justice, treated her with a chivalrous affection, compounded of romantic devotion to her mother, and paternal regard for herself. But I am sure she would never have allowed that a drop could be wanting in the full cup of her happiness, for was not George the whole world to her, and had she not got him here all to herself?

She walked thoughtfully on the terrace, sur rounded by the glorious beauty of earth and sky, looking, and seeing not. Perhaps she was back in Touraine amongst the vineyards, perhaps she was in the shady Convent Garden, cooling her temples in the pure fresh breeze that whispered to the beeches, how it had gathered perfumes from the orchards and the hedgerows and the scented meadows of pleasant Normandy. Perhaps she was rustling through a minuet in the same set with a Daughter of France, or fanning mamma in the hot West Indian evening, CERISE. or straining her eyes to windward from the deck of " The Bashful Maid," with George's arm round her waist, and his telescope pointing to the distant sail, that seemed plain to every eye on board but hers. At any rate, she appeared to be leagues off in mind, though her dainty feet with slow, measured steps were pacing to and fro on the terrace at Hamilton Hill.

All at once her colour came, her eyes sparkled, she brightened up like one who wakes from sleep, for her heart still leaped to the tramp of boot and jingle of spur, as it had leaped in the days gone by, when a certain musketeer would visit his guard at unseasonable hours, that he might have an excuse for passing under her window. She ran across the terrace to meet him with a little exclamation of delight. " How long you have been, George !" she said, smiling up in his face. " Why did you not ride faster ? It is so dull here without you." She had him by the arm, and clasped her pretty white hands across his sleeve, leaning her weight on his wrist. He looked affectionately down in the fair young face, but he had come at a gallop for five or six miles across the moor, as the state of his boots no less than his flushed face indicated, and he did not feel inclined to admit he had been dilatory, so his answer was less that of the lover than the husband.

" Dull ! Cerise. I am sorry you find this place so dull, seeing that you and I must spend the greater part of our lives here. I thought you liked England, and a country life !" Why is a man flattered by those exactions in a mistress that gall him so in a wife ? Perhaps it is because a generous nature concedes willingly the favour, but is stern to resist the claim. When his mistress says she cannot do without him, all the protective instincts, so strong in masculine affection, rise in her behalf, but the same sentiment expressed by one who assumes a right to his time and attention, rather awakes a sense of apprehension, and a spirit of revolt. Where woman only sees the single instance, man establishes the broad principle. If he yields on this occasion, he fears his time will never again be his own, and such misgivings show no little ignorance of the nature with which he has to deal, a nature to be guided rather than taught, persuaded rather than convinced, sometimes advised, but never confuted, and on which close reasoning is but labour thrown away.

I think that woman wise who is careful never to weary her husband. The little god thrives well on smiles, and is seldom CERISE. stronger than when in tears. While he frowns and sets his teeth, he is capable of a lion's efforts and a mule's endurance ; but when he begins to yawn, he is but like other children, and soon falls fast asleep. Cerise hated George to speak to her in that grave tone. It grated on the poor girl's nerves, and frightened her besides, which was indeed unreason able, for he had never said a harsh word to her in his life. She looked timidly in his face, and answered meekly enough. " Every place is dull to me, George, without you. I wish I could be always with you — to help you with the tenants, to dine with you at the Court House, to sit behind you on Emerald when you go for a gallop across the moor.

Why could I not ride with you this morning ?" He laughed good-humouredly, and stroked the hands clasped on his wrist. " It would have been the very thing, Cerise !" said he. "I think I see you assisting at a cock fight, placing the fowls, picking them up, and counting them out ! I think I can see Sir Marma duke's face when you walked into the pit. I think I can hear the charitable remarks of all our county ladies, who are not disposed to let you off more easily, my dear, because you are so much betterlooking and better dressed than anything they ever saw north of the Trent. Yes, my darling, come to the next cock-fight by all means. II ne manquerait que ga!" The little French sentence was music to her ears. It was the language in which he had wooed her ; and though she spoke his language now assiduously, and spoke it well, the other was her mother-tongue.

She laughed, too. "Perhaps I shall take you at your word," said she, " though it is a cruel, horrid, wicked amusement. Did you win, George ?" " Fifty gold pieces !" was his answer ; " and the same on a return match next week, which I am equally sure of. They will get you two new dresses from Paris." " I want no dresses from Paris," said she, drawing him towards the bowling-green. " I want you to help me in my garden. Come and look at my Provence roses." But Sir George had no time to spare even for so tempting a pursuit. A fresh horse was even now waiting to carry him ten miles off to a training of the militia, in which constitutional force, as became his station, he took a proper interest. He was the country gentleman now from head to heel, and fre- CERISE. quented all gatherings and demonstrations in which country gentlemen take delight.

Of these, a cock-fight was not the most refined, but it was the fashion of his time and his class, so we must not judge him more severely than did Cerise, who, truth to tell, thought he could not possibly do wrong, and would have given him absolution for a worse crime, in consideration of his accompanying her to the garden to look at her Provence roses. " To-morrow," said he ; husbandlike, missing the chance of a compliment about the roses, which a lover would not have let slip ; the latter, indeed, if obliged to depart, would probably have ridden away with one of the flowers in his bosom. " To-morrow, Cerise. I have a press of business to-day, but will get back in time for dinner ;" and touching her forehead lightly with his lips, Sir George was gone before she could stop him, and in another minute his horse's hoofs were clattering out of the stable yard.

From the terrace where she stood, Cerise watched his receding figure as he galloped merrily down the park, knee-deep in fern, threading the old oaks, and sending the deer scampering on all sides across the open, watched him with a cloud upon her young face, and a quiver about her mouth, that was near akin to tears ; watched long after he was out of sight, and then turned wearily away with a languid step and a deep-drawn sigh. She was but going through the ordeal that sooner or later must be endured by every young wife who dearly loves her husband. She was but learning the unavoidable lesson that marriage is not court ship, that reality is not illusion, that the consistent tenderness of a husband, if more practical, is less flattering than the romantic adoration of a lover. She was beginning to shape into suspicion certain vague misgivings which had lately haunted her, that although George was all the world to her, she was only part of the world to George !

It is from the sweetest dreams that we are most unwilling to awake, and therefore it is no wonder that Lady Hamilton's preoccupation prevented her observing a strange horseman riding up the avenue, slowly and laboriously, as though after a long journey, of which the final destination seemed to be Hamil ton Hill.

Chapter II. The Desire Of The Moth

j the year 1540, five Spaniards and a yy\ Ek Savoyard, styling themselves " Clerks of j|2_^.i| the Company of Jesus," left Paris under the leadership of the famous Ignatius Loyola, to found an establishment at Rome, Here Pope Paul III. presented them with a church, and in return these half-dozen of energetic priests gave in an unqualified adhesion to the Sovereign Pontiff. Their avowed intention in thus forming themselves into a separate and independent body (except in so far as they owed allegiance to its supreme head), was the propagation of the Roman Catholic faith, the conversion of heathens, the suppression of heresy, and the education of the young. For these purposes a system was at once organized, which should combine the widest sphere of action, with the closest surveillance over its agents, the broadest views with the most minute attention to details, an absolute unquestioned autho rity, with a staunch and implicit obedience.

To attain universal rule (possibly for a good motive, but at any sacrifice to attain it) over the opinions of humanity, however different in age, sex, character, and nationalities, was the object proposed, and almost the first maxim laid down, and never departed from in the Order, established that all means were justifiable to such an end. It was obvious that to win universal dominion over the moral as over the physical world, every effort must not only be vigorous, but combined and simul taneous, such waste of power must never be con templated as the possibility of two forces acting in opposite directions, and therefore a code of dis cipline must be established, minute, stringent, and comprehensive, like that of an army before an enemy, but with this difference, that its penalties must never be modified by circumstances, nor its bonds relaxed by conquest or defeat.

In the Order of Jesus must be no speaking, no questioning, no individuality, and — no forgiveness ! Their constititution was as follows : A " Genec VOL. in. CERISE. ral," as he was styled, resided in perpetuity at Rome, and from that central spot sent forth his directions over the whole civilized world, enjoying absolute authority and exacting unqualified obedience. Even to the supreme head, however, was attached an officer entitled his " Admonisher." It was his duty to observe the conduct of his chief, and report on it to the five "Assistants," who constituted that chief's council. These, again, were instructed to watch each other carefully, and thus, not even at the very head and fountain of supreme authority, could any single individual consider him self a free agent, even in the most trifling matters of dress, deportment, or daily conversation.

In every country where the Jesuits obtained a footing (and, while there are few in which they have not been notoriously powerful, even in those which betray no traces of their presence, who shall say their influence has not been at work below the surface ?) a " Provincial," as ne was called, assumed the direction of affairs within a certain district, and on his administration every one of his subordinates, temporal and spiritual, was instructed to report. There were three degrees in the Order, according to the experience and utility of its votaries — these were " Professors," " Coadjutors," both priests and laymen, for their ramifications extended from the highest to the lowest, through all classes of society, and " Novices." To enter the Order, many severe examinations had to be passed, and while it numbered among its votaries men of superlative abilities in a thousand different callings, every member was employed according to his capacity of useful service.

With such an organization it may be imagined that the society has been a powerful engine for good and for evil. It has planted Christianity in the most remote corners of the earth, and has sent missionaries of skill, eloquence, piety, and dauntless courage, amongst savages who, otherwise, might never have heard the faintest echo of the Glad Tidings, in which all men claim interest alike ; but, on the other hand, it has done incalculable mischief in the households of Christian Europe, has wormed itself into the confidence of women, has destroyed the concord of families, has afforded the assailants of religion innumerable weapons of offence, and in its dealings with those whom it was especially bound to succour and protect, has brought on them deso lation rather than comfort, remorse where there should be hope, and war instead of peace.

It is necessary to remember the effect of a con- C CERISE. stant and reciprocal supervision, not only on the outward actions and conduct, but on the very thoughts and characters of men unavoidably fettered by its influence, to understand the position of two priests walking side by side along one of the narrow level banks that intersect the marshy country lying near the town of St. Omer. These old friends, if, indeed, under such con ditions as theirs, men can ever be termed friends, had not met since they sat together many years before, beneath the limes at Versailles, when the younger had not yet taken orders, and the elder, although he accepted the title of Abbe, neither led the life of an ecclesiastic, nor admitted openly that he was in any way amenable to the discipline observed by the Jesuits.

Now, both were ostensibly votaries of the Order. Its impress might be seen in their measured steps, their thoughtful faces, and their downward looks, taking no heed of the peace ful scene around : the level marshes, the ripening orchards, the lazy cattle knee-deep in rich wet herbage, the peasant's punt pushed drowsily and sluggishly along the glistening ditches that divided his fields, the mellow warmth of the autumnal sun, and the swarms of insects wheeling in his slanting, reddening rays. They saw, or at least they heeded, none of this — deep in conversation, their subject seemed of en grossing interest ; yet each looked only by stealth in the other's face, withdrawing his glance and bending it on the path at his feet, the instant it met his friend's. At times neither spoke for several paces, and it was during such periods of silence that the ex pression of habitual mistrust and constraint became painfully apparent.

In the elder man it was soft ened and smoothed over, partly by effort, partly by the acquired polish of society, but the younger seemed to chafe with repressed ardour, like a rash horse, impatient but generous, fretting under the unaccustomed curb. After a longer pause than usual, this one spoke with more energy than he had yet displayed. " I only wish to do right. What is it to me, Malletort, that the world should misjudge me, or that I should sink in the esteem of those whose good opinion I value ? I only wish to do right, I say, always in compliance with the orders of my superiors." The other smiled. " In the first place," said he, " you must not call me Malletort, at least not within so short a distance of those college chimneys ; but we will let that pass ; for though a novice, still you CERISE. are worthy of speedy promotion, and it is only for ' Novices' in the first period of probation that our rules are so exacting.

You wish to do right. So be it. You have done very wrong hitherto, or you might have been a ' Provincial' by this time. Well, my son, confession is the first step to amendment, and then " He paused, and bit his lip. It was difficult to keep down the old sarcastic smile, but he did it, and looked gravely in the other's face. "Penance!" replied the younger. "I know it too well. Ah ! mea culpa ! mea culpa ! I have been a great sinner. I have repented in sackcloth and ashes. I have confessed freely. I wish, yes, I repeat, I wish to atone humbly, and yet, oh ! for mercy's sake, tell me, is there no way but this ?" His agony of mind was too apparent on his face. Even Malletort felt a momentary compunction when he remembered the hopeful enthusiastic youth who had sat with him under the limes at Versailles all those years ago ; when he remembered the des perate career on which he had embarked, his insub ordination, his apostacy, and those paroxysms of remorse that drove him back into the bosom of the church.

Could this depressed and miserable penitent be the once bright and happy Florian de St. Croix, and had he been brought to this pass, simpty be cause he possessed such inconvenient superfluities as a heart and a conscience ? Malletort, I say, felt a twinge of compunction, but of pity very little, of indecision not one bit. "Would you go to a doctor," said he, graveiy, "and teach him how to cure you of a deadly malady ? Would you choose your own medicine, my son, and refuse the only healing draught pre scribed, because it was bitter to the taste ? There is but one way of retracing your steps. You must go back along the very path that led you into evil. That the effort will be trying, I admit. All uphill work is trying to the utmost, but how else can men attain the summit? That the task is painful I allow, but were it pleasant, where would be the penance ?

Besides, you know our rules, my son, the time is not far off when I shall be permitted to say, my brother. We have got you. Will you dare to hesitate ere you obey ?" An expression of intense fear came over Florian's face, but it seemed less the physical fear of danger from without, than an absorbing dread of the moral enemy within. " I must obey," he answered in a low voice, shud dering while he spoke. " I must obey, I know, CERISE. readily, willingly. Alas! Malletort, there is my unforgiven sin, my mortal peril. Too willingly do I undertake the task. It is my dearest wish to find myself addressed to it— that is why I entreat not to be sent— that is why I implore them to spare me. It is my soul that is in danger. Heart, hope, happiness, home, liberty, identity, all are gone from me, and now I shall lose my soul."

"Your soul !" repeated the other, again repress ing a sneer. "Do not distress yourself, my son, about your soul. It is in very safe keeping, and your superiors are, doubtless, the best judges of its value and eventual destination. In the meantime, do not give way to a far-fetched casuistry, or a morbid delicacy of sentiment. If your heart is in your task, and you go to it willingly, it will be the more easily and the more effectually accomplished. Congratulate yourself, therefore, that your penance is not distasteful as well as dangerous, a torture of bodily weakness, rather than a trial of spiritual strength. Remember, there is no sin of action where there is none of intention. There can be none of intention where a deed is done simply in compli ance with the Superior's will. If that deed be plea surable, it is but so much gained on the chances of the service.