Checkered life: in the Old and New world

Dedication

TO ELEONORE AND ADELAIDE.

*' Having performed my task, I could not help wishing to inscribe my simple narrative to some honored name; and many were those who presented themselves to my searching memoiy, under whose protecting shelter my unpretending volume might appear before that many-headed, manyhearted despot, the ''Public." I mused long; and, in pensive mood, I rose to stroll among my humble flower-beds. I gathered flower after flower to form a fragrant bouquet, a remembrance of my finished task, and a token of affection to one whom I love.

"Culling and gathering, I was struck by the beauty and fragrance of the rose, which, white or red, is fullest and freshest and purest. In my fanciful humor, the white rose seemed to take a form; and Eleonore, with her modest virtue, arose before me, the sweet pupil of my youth, who first taught me to love and cherish the excellencies of human nature. And her sister, with the richly variegated colors, from lightest pink to darkest crimson, portrayed to me the treasures of the queenly Adelaide, my faithful companion in my pilgrimage over land and ocean.

Chapter I. Early Scenes 9

II. Enough for a Fortnight 13

III. St. Anna 17

IV. Haret Castle , 23

V. Nothing Remains but Eternity 32

YI. Preparing for the University 40

VII. The Museum 48

VIII. The University 54

IX. The Army QQ

X. Academic Honors 75

XI. The Battle of Louvain 82

• XII. Two Sisters 93

XIII. Conflict and Separation 100

XIV. The World Wide Open 107

XV. Lady Marie 115

XVI. What Is To Be, Is 124

XVII. In the Market 131

XVIII. A Royal Audience 138

XIX. A Pastor in the Capital 149

XX. AVest-End Institute 157

XXI. A Cloud 166

XXII. Sunshine 176

XXIII. Germany and Switzerland 182

XXIV. Is it Rebecca ? 190

XXV. The Demand 199

XXVI. The Flight to Tarshish 207

XXVII. Decision 217

XXVIII. Adelaide 225

XXIX. Rebecca 234

XXX. The First Home 243

XXXI. The Dominican 253

XXXII. A Temptation 262

XXXIII. The ''Josephine" 269

CONTENTS.

PART II. THE NEW WORLD. page

Chapter I. CROSSING the: Atlantic 279

II. Pelham Priory 283

III The Church 290

IV. Riverside 299

V. Mother is Come! 303

VI. The Curate 307

VII. A Temptation 314

VIII. Clouds 319

IX. The " George Washington" . . . . : 325

X. Valparaiso 330

XI. The Golden Gate 336

XII. The Gambler's Burial 342

XIII. The Gallows 347

XIV. Grace Chapel 355

XV. Fire and Pestilence 365

XVI. A Brother Gone to Best 372

XVII.. Again a Temptation 377

XVIII. St. Mary's Hall, Sonoma 386

XIX. Four Angels 392

XX. Christian Love 400

XXI. Chapel of the Holy Innocents 404

XXII. St. Mary's Hall, San Francisco 410

XXIII. Fire 415

XXIV. The " Pacific Churchman" 421

XXV. La Lomita 427

XXVL House Building 433

XXVII. Settled in the Country 440

XXVIII. An Old Patriarch Gone 445

XXIX. Clogging the Wheel 449

XXX. Country Preaching 454

XXXI. My First-Born 460

XXXII. An Experiment 466

XXXIII. Farewell, La Lomita ! 470

Checkered Life.

PART I.

CHECKERED LIFE.

CHAPTER I.

EARLY SCENES.

It was in 1813. The rain fell in torrents. I, stood at the window, looking in wonder at the train of horsemen, wagons, and soldiers of every description, passing as in one uninterrupted stream. I see them yet, those old French cuirassiers, with their long horse-tails, their large cloaks, their weather-beaten features. I hear them yet, those half- suppressed imprecations ; the **Halt!" succeeded by the far-off "Advance!" There was no end. Day after day they passed. *^ They are the remainders of the Great Army," was the answer £o my questioning ; and I remember having thought it must have been a great army indeed, of which the remainders were so endlessly long.

The next startling incident was of a more gloomy character. I heard the reports of cannon and muskets. The house seemed to shake. The doors were burst open; wounded men were carried in — French soldiers saved from slaughter. I remember a Spaniard, young and handsome, mortally

10 EARLY SCENES.

wounded. I see yet his kindly smile, when laid on a comfortable mattress; and he smiled once more, and breathed his last.

A few months later, I remember coming from school. Our house swarmed with Prussian hussars— some thirty of them at the dining-table ; the wine-cellars burst open, and the peaceful family mansion a scene of dissoluteness and uproar. I was a boy of five. The novelty pleased me. I liked those fine men, with clashing sabres and clinking spurs, their loud and boisterous talk, their roaring laugh and careless manners. But, in the morning, I saw my sweet sister, a maiden of twelve, pale and haggard, trembling and shivering ; and, approaching the reckless band, on her knees implored mercy for her mother, who lay at death's door, overcome with fear and anxiety. And, when I heard the taunting roar of laughter that burst upon her, there was in the boy of five a sudden revulsion. I hated the Prussian hussars; and even now, after the lapse of half a century, Prussia and any thing Prussian. has little favor with me.

Oh, the misery of those days ! During two months, one band of those uniformed tyrants succeeded another. During two months, they kept my father a prisoner in his own house, whilst they ransacked it, and turned it into a place of riot ; for, in his wrath, he laid a heavy hand on the commander; and, asserting the rights of a freeman in his own domain, he incurred the vengeance of military despotism. At last they went, and for a

EARLY SCENES. H

year my memories ai^e of a quiet and peaceful character.

They bring me back to my sixth anniversary, a day of joy and pleasure ; gifts bestowed with a bountiful liberality; parents' blessing, and a brother's and sister's affection: and the house throno-ed with guests, and the companions of my childhood surrounding the youngest heir with tokens of sympathy.

But in midsummer — it was in 1815 — -like far-distant thunder, I heard it roaring, sometimes in quick succession, sometimes with long intervals ; and, when I asked, I was told, " It is the Emperor's battle." They did not know it was his last ! It is now very nearly half a century; but the booming of Waterloo's cannon roars yet with funeral solemnity in my memory.

And with its dying echoes ends the bright vision of wealth and power as conceived in my childhood. Though not directly opposed to, yet not in favor of, the glorious meteor, which, from the siege of Toulon up to the brilliant sun of Austerlitz, had constantly ascended on the political horizon, my family had borne all the w^eight of despotism, and next all the crushino^ insolence of the Kestoration. Its nearly princely wealth, exhausted by taxations and contributions, at last received its death-blow by the vandalism of those who came to restore. Of all the possessions, nothing remained but the ancestral home, still occupied by our family ; and I remember well how, day after day, its appearance changed ; strange faces were seen

12 EARLY SCENES.

haunting its halls and chambers, until I perceived that my liberty of rambling about was restrained. I felt a pang in my young heart. I felt mortified. I was glad when a coach stopped at the gate; and my brother and sister and myself took our seats. The carriage door was closed, and I never saw my ancestral home again.

Through the tedious hours of a sultry summer day the coach rolled on. It finally stopped at a small but pleasant dwelling on the banks of the picturesque Meuse, where we found our mother. There she often used to retire from the rumor and tumult of war, which for the last twenty years had resounded over our land. To remarkable beauty she joined the dignity of a queen. She received us as mothers in those times used to receive their children. There was love, but reserve ; there was anxious care, but greater pride. And she pressed us one after another to her bosom, and made us sit down at the supper-table, and took herself a seat with all the dignity of former times. Ah! it was a sober repast. My brother, a noble boy of fifteen years, my sister, a growing maiden of thirteen, both felt that life had assumed a new and more severe aspect ; and I, when nature's wants were satisfied, began to remember with longing heart one who that morning had given me a parting kiss. Tears filled my eyes, and tears filled the eyes of brother and sister; when at last I cried with sorrow and an2*uish, ^' Where is

'to

ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 13

Chapter II. Enough Fob A Fortnight

I AM of Austrian and Spanish lineage ; for my ancestor in the fifth degree was the grandson of Don Juan of Austria and Dona Maria de Mendoza, and married the granddaughter of Don Juan de Requesens, brother of the Spanish Governor of the Netherlands. During two centuries my family had occupied posts of trust under the then powerful government of the Batavian Republic. Mostly men of war, they had fought her battles against Louis XIV., and his successor, Louis XV. Through good management and rich inheritances, their wealth had steadily increased. Of an independent spirit, they never were favorable to the house of Orange ; nor were they inclined to humor the despotism of Napoleon. When the Netherlands Were incorporated with the French Empire, my father, the only inheritor of the name and fortune, kept aloof from imperial influence.

After the battle of Leipsic, the oppressed provinces began to breathe. Men of influence formed various plans for the future. Some (and they were the majority) saw nothing better than to recall Orange to the head of affairs ; others, and my father among them, had a wider range. They thought of uniting the Netherlands, from France

14 ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT.

to the Elbe, into one empire. I have yet in my possession the plans drawn up for that purpose. It was a magnificent project. It would have created a powerful State, a check on France, on England, and on Prussia. It does not matter what part my father took in this plan. He was deeply involved. He was a man in the meridian of life, thoroughly versed in the science of government ; of great enterprise ; and, above all, of unconquerable endurance and perseverance. Orange was recalled ; Belgium and Holland united into one petty kingdom. The friends of my father mostly contrived to make their timely submission ; but he remained stern and unbending. His patriotic heart would not submit to what afterwards appeared little better than egotistical Louis Phillippe. He became dangerous in a time when all was unsettled. He was crushed. He sent his family where they were comparatively safe. But the kiss which that morning he pressed on my brow was the last I knew of him during that dreary summer ; and to my sobbing cry, "Where is papa?" I received no answer but the gloomy silence of my povertystricken family.

At last the autumnal leaves began to fall, and winter set in with unusual severity. It had covered the earth with its frosty mantle ; and, in the dusk of approaching evening, we sat in silence, remembering more cheerful days ; when the door opened, and our father stood before us.

He looked wearied and careworn. He came from the frontiers, where he had been shifting

ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 15

from place to place. He was exhausted with fatigue : he was hungry. He was on his way to a place of safety, where he would be nearer his friends. He had to go that evening more than twelve miles. He would not stay with us. It might create suspicion, and disturb our repose.

Oh, how well I remember that sad, very sad evening ! I see yet my father, erect though crushed, holding the hand of my mother. My brother and sister stood near him, half encircling him with their arms. Behind the group stood a dark, straight, military man, Colonel P., of the Swiss guards, a veteran of eighty years, a trusty friend of my father. He brought him '^ from his penury " a few -dollars. It needs no effort of memory to recall the scene. Silent they stood in mutual grief, until my father said :

^' Farewell, Catena ! farewell ! I have enough for a fortnight. Trust in God."

He left in the dark and snowy night. He left alone, to wander over a desolate heath ; nor would he allow any one to accompany him. My parents never met again in this world.

" Enough for a fortnight /" and what after that ? The words resounded strangely in my ears. There was a gloomy determination in those words which startled me, child as I was. From that moment I thought of nothing but of my father. His sudden appearance, his altered countenance, his silent departure, haunted me the whole night. ^' ' Enough for a fortnight,' " said I to my mother on the following morning : " what did papa mean T

16 ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT.

And niY mother o-ave me one of those sflances which used to strike me dumb. There was no idea of repeating the question.

Why this gUmoe ? Was it reproof ? No ; but it was a determined Avill that the subject shouki no more be touched. ^ly mother disapproved of my father's political course. She took a matterof-fact view of the thinof. Since the case could not be altered, it was better to give in. Proud as she was, she did not see the use of adhering to political creeds when they ruin a fiimily. Perhaps she was not wrong. She thought that, with a little policy, the favor of the ** powers that be" mio'ht be o-ained. Mv father could not bend. He thought of nothing but the dream and expectation of his whole life; my mother, of her family.

With the instinct of childhood, I abstained from further inquiry. But one evening a teamster made his appearance, and mysteriously asked if there was anv errand to St. Anna.

I held already my mother's knees. I knew St. Anna.

*' Oh ! lot me go," said I, *' and bring your errand. Let me go, let me go I — let me go to papa ! "

How it was I cannot now conceive ; but my mother consented. I sprang into the wagon : the teamster took his seat, cracked the Avhip ; and I actuallv was on mv wav to see him whom since that dismal eveninof I had not lost an hour out of. sight, and to whom, from this time, I clung with feeUnos of even more than filial affection.

8T. ANNA. 17