A constant round of dinner parties in quick succession was briskly kept up between d'Aremberg palace and Tyrconnel house. The anxiety of the dowager duchess for the union of her son with the Lady Adelaide was exceedingly great, and unremitting were her attentions and exertions for its accomplishment.
"She would, upon that event," she often declared, "contentedly depart from life, resigned in peace, when once her aged eyes had beheld what her soul had so often longed for, the union of an only son with the lovely and transcendently accomplished daughter of the dear and early friend of her youth." And the fact was, that the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel were equally as anxious in their wishes for the union of their daughter with the Duke d'Aremberg, as his noble and venerable mother, looking upon the marriage as "a consummation devoutly to be wished!"
One morning, at an early hour, the Duchess d'Aremberg despatched a note to Lady Adelaide, requesting that she would favour her godmother with a visit, so soon as might prove convenient, at the conclusion of breakfast, to the Lady Adelaide. "She was desirous," as her Grace expressed herself, to speak to her dear god-child upon a subject which was important to her happiness. She requested, therefore, that so soon as it might prove convenient Lady Adelaide would have the goodness to call upon her old friend and godmother."
An answer acquiescive to the above request was returned, and at the appointed time Adelaide waited upon the Duchess d'Aremberg, whom she found seated on a low settee, that which, now varying in shape and elevation, is in our modern days 'yclept a sofa. Before her Grace was placed a small walnut spider-table. Her occupation was knitting a silk purse: for even with the assistance of spectacles, she found it difficult to read. At her feet reposed upon a velvet cushion her blind and favourite lapdog Fidelle, who, hearing a stranger's steps to enter the chamber, awoke from her slumbers, and saluted Adelaide with a volley of barking, as loudly as age and infirmities permitted.
"Welcome, my dear Adelaide, my dearest god-child, whom I now gladly embrace; and happy, too happy should I be to call thee by yet still a dearer name than god-child: I would like to hear thee called daughter and my son's duchess, while I the world forgetting, shall long by the world be forgot. Yes, my dearest child, I fain would call thee by the still fonder name of daughter, the wife of my beloved son, who from the first moment in which he beheld thee, my dear Adelaide, could no longer call his heart his own!"
Adelaide felt dreadfully embarrassed. She reddened, and blushed up to the very eyes; and indeed some time had elapsed before she could muster up resolution enough to speak her sentiments.
As soon as she recovered her presence of mind, she replied: "How deeply grateful to the duchess she felt for her numerous attentions and kindnesses, and above all for the high honour which her Grace had intended for her, but which she must most gratefully, respectfully, but yet most decidedly, decline. She could never—she would never, give her hand, without at the same time that it was in her power to bestow her heart, and that she candidly acknowledged it was not now in her power to give."
The duchess again, however, ineffectually renewed her solicitations, yet with no more success than before, and concluded, as she thought, with the unanswerable climax of her appeal: "Oh, think, my dearest Adelaide, how very agreeable the union would prove to the wishes and desires of the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel, which so fully respond to my own!"
Adelaide, as soon as an opportunity presented, promptly availed herself of it, arose, bade the duchess farewell, and departed homeward.
Upon her return she was met by her father, who conducted her into his library, and addressed her thus:—
"D'Aremberg has been here this morning while you were absent, my love, with his mother, and he has made a proposition to us that has met with decided approbation from both your mother and from me. The duke has offered you his hand, and places his coronet and estates, which are princely, Adelaide, at your feet! He is in every respect worthy of you, descended as he is from a brave and noble race of ancestry, from which indeed he has not degenerated. Young, valiant, generous, and noble—and although bred in the camp, yet is his mind stored with the learning of ancient Greece and Rome; he is an adept in modern languages; and as to his personal accomplishments and appearance, fame hath bruited it afar, that fair ladies fully feel their force wherever d'Aremberg presents himself. What says my Adelaide to this proposal?"
"Often and often, my dear father, have I heard you, and my mother likewise, say, 'let no young woman ever give her hand in holy wedlock who cannot also give her heart; if she gives her hand unaccompanied with her heart, from that moment let her date the commencement of a wretched life.' Now, dearest father, I cannot give my heart to the duke, and therefore I consider that it would be dishonourable in me to give my hand alone! I know well that it may be urged against me what and how much I relinquish by this refusal—the elevated rank of a duchess, a splendid fortune, and all the accessoires of high rank. Yes, I abandon all these, most willingly relinquish them all!"
"Ay, sage Adelaide," severely said the duke, "all for a stranger!"
"Not so, my dear father! the Bruce is no stranger. His rank?—he who preserved my father's life amid the rage of battle, surely cannot be a stranger! Gratitude and honour forbid it!—it is impossible. He too is descended from a brave and royal race—the blood of kings pulsates in his veins. I shall be silent on all the noble qualifications he possesses; those that run may read them. And I will not, I confess, blush when I say that I love the man who preserved your valuable life, and that upon him my hopes, my happiness, my future fortune in life depend! I feel, most duly and deeply feel, honoured by the duke's proposal; however, I respectfully, yet decidedly decline it."
"Indeed!!—So young, yet so determined too!"
"I would not, my Lord, be the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel were I to waver, or act irresolutely."
"I see most clearly, Adelaide, how matters stand—'All for love, or the world well lost!' In a word, your heart is pre-engaged. The Bruce!"
"I will not, my dearest father, deceive you. I cannot, I shall not deny it. My heart is truly engaged; and my affections are placed upon one who is every way deserving of them, even were my rank higher than it is."
"Have you ever, my child, observed a settled gloom which at times damps the lustre of the Bruce's eye, and desolates his noble features? This your mother and I have at times observed. You, doubtless, saw it not, too much enamoured to make the discovery. But I have no manner of hesitation in thinking, and declaring as my opinion, that Bruce has a secret sorrow at heart;—and one day indeed, I must observe to you, that your mother discovered him in tears."
"Oh, my dear father, it was only love—retired, sincere, and unpretending love!—Surely I have wept often myself. But then they were rather tears of joy to reflect, when finally your objections and mamma's were overcome, how blest, how happy I should be, united to the Bruce!"
"I perceive, Adelaide, when it is too late, that I have only to condemn myself for the incautious and imprudent introduction of Sir David Bruce."
"Not so, my dear father, I saw and loved him before your introduction—loved him at first sight! The declaration is strange, but it is true. I know not how it was, but yet I know so it is, and I honestly confess my weakness."
"And for this thy love at first sight!—this childish offspring of an enthusiast's brain!—you seem fully resolved to relinquish the noblest connexion in Belgium, of which princesses might be proud—a warrior duke, descended from a long ennobled line of ancestry, his suit denied, and the preference given to a stranger! Monstrous!—not to be endured. Oh, such a damning fact ought not to have been disclosed to a father's ear!"
"Oh, dear Sir, say not so. Not to be disclosed to a father's ear!—Oh, then, pray Sir, to whom should I disclose it, if not to the ear of my parent? Ought I not hope to find in his bosom a friend, a counsellor, adviser, and protector; in a word, a father! You saw, Sir—you must have seen, that I was beloved by the Bruce; and I had not the art to disguise that I met, that I returned his love. Time was, when a child, as I well remember, when you oft carried me on your shoulder, and took me upon your lap: 'My Adelaide,' you then were wont to say, 'you should ever consider your parents as your best friends, the most interested in your welfare beyond all the world besides. Oh, never look upon them as tyrants or oppressors; the tie of affection between a child and its parents, from continued affection, is stronger even than the filial bonds of nature herself. In doubt or distress, therefore, ever look up to and consult your mother and me as your natural protectors and advisers, in weal or in woe, as your sincerest friends, rest you convinced, that you have upon earth; and be sure to take no decided step whatever without consulting us, as you shall ever most cordially receive, and candidly too, the best advice of your mother and me, and always be assured of the warmth of the affection of both your parents.' Now, my dear father, have I forgotten this advice? say rather intently I have treasured up all these sayings in my heart, freshly stamped and impressed, as if it were only yesterday that you had pronounced them. Rest assured, dearest Sir, of this, that I shall never do a clandestine act; and when thus I solemnly pledge myself to my parents never to marry without their consent, oh, surely they will not—they could not be so severe or so unjust as to require me to submit without my own!—more especially when my heart is wholly disinclined—nay, and more, dislikes, and wholly refuses assent. Say, should I hold forth my hand, dear and honoured father, when my heart rejects, if not hates! Oh, say would it not be most base and dishonourable; nay, more—it would be—(horrible to reflect on!) it would be lying and prevaricating at the altar of God; and there solemnly, but falsely, declaring that I would 'love, honour, and obey' a man, however high his rank and great his worth, still that I never loved, nor ever can love! No, no—a lie pronounced at the altar of heaven!—I cannot do it!"
"Oh, my dearest Adelaide, indeed thou art my child—flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood. Believe me then, and despond not, my dearest daughter, no aspiration to add to your rank or to increase your fortune against your consent, shall ever again influence your mother or me. Come then, my beloved, to thy father's arms, and never again shall our opinions clash in collision. I glory in the name of father, when I count that Adelaide is mine own dearest daughter; yea my only one! think then no more, my dearest child, of what has gone past. I promise you solemnly that you shall never again be teased or solicited upon this topic, so think of what has passed but as the idle fantasy of a frightful dream!"
This eventful day appeared to the much-dejected Adelaide as the longest and most wearisome she had witnessed in the annals of her life. Although still she deeply suffered, and succumbed beneath the ban of exile from her native land and home, Adelaide likewise had deeply felt her pride wounded to the very core at the outlawry and attainder of her parents. More perplexing still yet seemed those moments of trial which now had arrived, when Adelaide had to encounter and oppose the opinions of a parent, in which, although completely triumphant, yet still her success gave her pain, but not joy. And although the day ended, as happily it did, in reconciliation, yet it had commenced in the not-to-be-mistaken tone of high and angry displeasure.
Quite overcome, from thus differing so widely in opinion from those she deeply regarded, oppressed with a quick and fevered pulse, and a frame sadly exhausted, Adelaide gladly retired to repose, mentally exclaiming, as she departed to her chamber,
LETTER III.
THE DUCHESS OF TYRCONNEL TO MRS. CARTWRIGHT.
Dated, Antwerp, June, 169—
My dear Madam,
"Here we are at length arrived; we have been in this city a week, and keep our head quarters at the Golden Lion, one of their principal inns, where we are most agreeably and comfortably accommodated.
"Long since, indeed, had we planned and intended visiting this former capital of Flanders, 'the Merchant City,' whose wealth once resembled ancient Tyre, 'whose merchants were princes, whose traffickers were the honourable of the earth!'[46] But alas, how fallen is this even still magnificent city from its pristine state of grandeur, opulence, and population! that I should be inclined to apostrophize it in the words of Jeremiah, 'How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people! How is she become a widow!—she that was great among the nations, and princess among the provinces!'
"We had indeed long intended and projected a visit to this ancient, interesting, and magnificent city; but that which is of easy performance, what is in our daily power to execute, how often do we delay and procrastinate to perform? So that too frequently in human life such intentions are rarely or never accomplished!
"Our mode of travelling from Brussels to this city was by the Trëkschuit, (literally draw-boat,) or passage boat, which is drawn by two horses; it was, in sooth, a most stately and magnificent barge which conveyed us, with a handsomely furnished cabin beneath; the upper part of the deck, appropriated for the gens de condition, was ornamented with a tasteful awning of white and gold trellice work; the canopy which surrounded it intended alike to keep aloof rain or sunshine. The whole of this splendid barge was gilt, and most tastefully decorated; while at the prow the Belgic lion (the armorial bearing of Flanders) blazed forth in burnished gold, flinging its splendid image upon the bosom of the waters as majestically it moved along its watery way. I must indeed say that it strongly reminded me of the beautiful passage in our immortal bard of Avon, where he describes, with so much poetic force and fire, the progress of Cleopatra sailing down the river Cydnus. But pray, I beseech you, do not think that I conceive the duke to be Marc Antony, no more than I compare myself to Cleopatra, although our stately barge reminded me of hers!
'The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold! &c.'
At the further end of the vessel, from the awning of the Trëkschuit, were stationed a band of minstrels, who, upon the bell having been rung to announce our departure, right merrily commenced the harmony of sweet sounds, repeating songs and glees, accompanied by musical instruments, every half hour, which fully broke the monotony of our voyage, rendered so agreeable by such sweet melody as to shorten apparently the distance from Brussels to Antwerp. And as to our dinner, which we had piping hot and excellent, in the cabin below, Sir Patricius Placebo, who is quite au fait on such occasions, loudly exclaimed, (and he is indeed, accredit me, my good friend, by no means an indifferent judge,) 'I vow, 'fore Jove,' said he, 'the dinner was excellent, every thing in its kind was good, the wines excellent, and saving and except at the duke's mansion in the Rue Ducale, he had,' he avowed, 'not partaken of so delicious a dinner since his sejoùr in Flanders!'
"This he concluded, of course, with his never failing favourite Greek quotation—
'DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!'
and his accustomed chorus: 'Ha, humph!—Ha, hum!'
"Although diminished in her population, and depressed in her commerce, Antwerp is still a noble city. You need not, however, my dear friend, apprehend that I shall enter into a critical detail, which fault I am rather apprehensive (although your kindness expresses the contrary) I have already committed in my two former letters, which have engrossed too much of your time and attention, by my elaborate description of other cities; but believe me truly that in what now I write, I shall be both brief and sententious in this rapid sketch which I am about to undertake:—
"The view of Antwerp, seen by the intervention of the river Scheldt, is extremely imposing and magnificent, its numerous domes, cupolas, palaces, and spires, and towering above all, over town and tide, the exalted spire of Notre Dame, the finest in the world, strikes the spectator with awe and admiration. This venerable city was once the emporium and the envy of all Europe; but now, alas! solemn, gloomy silence, pervades her splendid, spacious, but unfrequented streets; the busy hum of men no more is heard amid her deserted stately palaces, and silent and solitary that noble exchange,[47] where once were congregated the most wealthy merchants of the world!
"You may possibly have heard of the well known and authenticated fact of a wealthy merchant of this city, by name Jean Deans, who nobly supplied the emperor Charles V. with the immense loan of two millions of money; the merchant then prepared a magnificent banquet, which he gave upon the emperor's self-invitation; when the magnificent merchant, at the termination of the repast, flinging the bond into a spicy conflagration of cinnamon, exclaimed the meanwhile—'I feel, Sire, sufficiently repaid by the honour which your Majesty has so graciously this day conferred upon me; fire has cancelled the imperial obligation. However, Sire, I am your debtor now, which I ever shall remain, for the honour which your Majesty has this day conferred on me!'
"Antwerp has produced such an host of illustrious men, that to enumerate all would truly prove a tiresome task. The names of Bomberg, Plantin, and Moretus, are identified with the art of printing. Antwerp also gave birth to Grammaye, the historian; to Teniers, the Proteus of his art; to Sneyders; and likewise to Jordaens; while the mighty names of Rubens[48] and Vandyke fling a halo of glory around the ancient city of Antwerp.
"Already we have visited every place worthy of been seen, have viewed every object of curiosity: museums, libraries, cabinets, galleries, and collections of paintings: have inspected palaces, monasteries, churches, and cathedrals, where are to be seen many fine paintings of the first class of excellence. Yesterday we visited the royal academy of paintings, and in the chamber where the professors assemble, is placed the memorable chair that had once belonged to 'the prince of painters,' to the great and unequalled Rubens; it is formed of carved wood, surmounted with lions' heads, and covered with red Morocco leather, with the initials of his illustrious name, and his armorial bearings placed on the back of it. My enthusiastic Adelaide fairly enthroned herself therein, and there she sat, and would still have sat, and how long the genii of poesy and painting can only tell, until I had to give my dear daughter a most maternal tap upon the shoulder to admonish that we were waiting for her.
"Next we visited the altar and tomb of Rubens, which is placed in the church of Saint James; here my enwrapt enthusiastic Adelaide was so delighted, that I really expected every moment to see her doff her sandals, and, bare-kneed, advance a pilgrim of genius to do homage at the shrine of this mighty man. The tomb and altar are highly and richly decorated with marble. A splendid painting from his own inimitable pencil adorns the altar, which forms the central compartment; it represents the infant Saviour placed on the knees of his mother; Saint Jerome is stationed on the right of the Virgin; two female figures, which are portraits of the two wives of Rubens, Elizabeth Brants and Helena Forman, are placed before the principal figure, which represents the painter himself in armour, personifying Saint George; the dragon, pierced to death, lies at his feet, while, with much dignity and the triumph of victory, he holds erect to heaven his triumphant banner. In a niche, crowning the monument, is placed a marble statue of the Virgin, looking up in the ardent act of devotion, and holding with fervour to her breast a crucifix. This famous statue was sculptured by Francis Flamand, and brought from Rome by Rubens himself; it is a work of great excellence, but placed quite too high for the eye sufficiently to appreciate its superior merit.
"But, my dear friend, were I to dwell upon and detail all the various and excellent specimens of the works of art to be witnessed in this ancient and venerable city, I should fill volumes, and weary you to death. A few more 'last words' concerning Rubens, and I have done.
"To-day we visited the site of the palace which had belonged to this most distinguished and accomplished character. The palace no more exists, but some few shattered arches and architectural remains in his garden are still to be seen, and upon these we gazed, as on holy relics, with awe and respect.
"This prince of painters was a learned scholar, artist, politician, and a finished gentleman; ennobled by genius, birth, and rank, this distinguished man was selected as the ambassador of renowned kings, and decorated by them with honours, well and deservedly bestowed; he returned at the conclusion of his embassy to his native land. His education had been liberal, and his erudition was great, he could fluently speak six different languages; his manners, habits, and modes of life, were those of a prince. His admiration of men of talent was as unbounded as was his generosity manifested to them;—his friendship for the great Vandyke is well known.
"This poor tribute I could not but pay to the illustrious Rubens, whose virtues and whose genius must ever elicit the praise and the admiration of this and every succeeding age!
"I had the pleasure to receive your very kind and friendly letter from Bath, but grieve to find that the good bishop has had so severe a visitation from his old inveterate tormentor, the gout; however, I trust that the healing waters and springs of Baiæ may fully aid his recovery, and renovate his health.
"You must know that my Adelaide has received proposals in marriage from no less than three personages: from the eldest son of the Earl of Aylesbury, which she instantly very properly declined, for he was a prating coxcomb, a painted popinjay. The next matrimonial proposition came from the Duke d'Aremberg, a most amiable young nobleman, an alliance, in every respect, 'most devoutly' to be wished for, and gladly accepted. But so thought not Adelaide. Her father and I, without forcing her inclinations, were most desirous that this union should take place; we considered his elevated rank, the first duke in Brabant, his lordly fortune, his great personal worth, added to his numerous accomplishments. But strange and unaccountable to relate, without hesitation, my Adelaide refused him! The third matrimonial proposal came from 'the knight of Chester walls,' 'le chevalier inconnu,' but now well known as Sir David Bruce, a baronet of Nova-Scotia; and which offer, it appears, was most graciously accepted by Adelaide, but under correction and approbation of her parents. Which said match is most likely never to be accomplished, inasmuch that the Duke of Tyrconnel has solemnly declared, that until his attainder is rescinded, and a free and unqualified permission given him by the higher powers to return to his native country and his paternal towers, he is determined never to give his assent to the union of Sir David Bruce with the Lady Adelaide. Thus I fear that the lovers have placed themselves in a very awkward and distressing predicament, as no two events can possibly be more distant, and hardly ever expected to be attainable!
"It is impossible that I should not look up with the highest respect to the character and the noble qualities of the Duke of Tyrconnel, the unshaken friend of his sovereign, whether seated on his throne, or an exile from his realms; uncorrupted by prosperity, unshaken and unchanged by adversity; comporting himself with that equanimity of temper, that what Horace[49] says of Aristippus would apply to him—one whom every change, whom every station, and every event became!
"How days, and months, and years, my friend, advance, proceed, and are gone like the track of an arrow through the buoyant air, or a keel cutting its foaming course through the vasty deep! Alas, my dear,
'We take no note of time but by its loss.'
Seven years have passed by since our sojourn in Brabant—sad and solitary;—oh no, I cannot be so wicked—so ungrateful, as to assert it has been; that portion of time having fled in the happy home of my beloved Lord, and along with my alter idem, my second self, as Cicero expresses it, my adored Adelaide. Oh, unjust indeed I should be to complain; however, I may confess, en passant, that the climate of Brussels is somewhat humid, especially during the autumnal months; and the society somewhat tristé, with a notable lack of public amusements; but believe me I truly feel no loss in the deprivation of the latter. Oh, my friend, once more freely to breathe my native mountain air!—once more to reach the verdant isle, and again to inhabit the towers of Tyrconnel! then were my Adelaide suitably mated and matched, my sum of human happiness would be consummated. We purpose staying here a few days longer, and then set out on our return, by land, to our mansion in the Rue Ducale at Brussels.
"I know well, my dear and kind friend, how warmly interested you and the good bishop are in every thing regarding or connected with our interest and happiness, and whenever I can write to you upon the subject, although poor exiles as we are, I feel not very sanguine in my hopes of having cause of speedily so doing; yet should a change in our fortunes occur, write I shall assuredly—you may depend upon it!
"Having now, I fear, fairly tormented you with this long and tiresome epistle, I shall not add another word but what I know you will readily believe, which is, that wherever I am, wherever I go, be assured that I remain
Your constant and truly
Affectionate Friend,
(Signed) Katherine Tyrconnel."
The Duke of Tyrconnel and his family, and particularly the lovely Adelaide, were delighted with the tranquillity of Brussels, and often, accompanied by Sir David Bruce, they gladly sojourned at the ancient chateau of Tervuren, about three leagues distant from Brussels, and situated in the forest of Soignies, where a cold collation was frequently prepared for them, and which they not only seemed to relish, but were happier in its enjoyment than although it had been served to them on golden plate in palaces of kings.
Upon one of these pleasant excursions the duke, who was riding next Sir Patricius Placebo, while passing through the forest his Grace said: "I never, Sir Patricius, felt so happy—so far, at least, as regards my own personal feelings—as now I do, and always feel upon these our little expeditions, if I could forget—if indeed I ever could forget that my royal master is an exile from his dominions! Save this consideration, I repine not for myself, nor would I exchange social leisure and rural retirement for all the pomp of camps and courts, and power political."
"I fully concur," rejoined Sir Patricius, "in your Grace's sentiments, and in the words of a true Amicus I may thus reply:—
The duke now rode up to the side of the carriage to make some observations to the duchess, when Sir David said:—
"I think, nevertheless, good Sir Patricius, with old truth-telling Persius,
'At pulchrum est digito monstrari, et dicier HIC EST!'
that it could not surely have been altogether so very disagreeable to be pointed out as a distinguished person of rank, who was respected by the multitude, and one every way so deserving of it; and to hear their hoarse, but gladdened voices exclaim, 'make way there! room, room for the duke!"
"Certainly, Sir David, I entirely concur in this opinion with you; for methinks my good and kind master is somewhat too soon disposed to retire from this most wicked, sinister, and abominable world, and to be as sick, forsooth, of pomp and praise as ever Henri Quatré was of a partridge!"
The pleasure party for Tervuren Castle and park was thus arranged:—The duke, Sir Patricius, and Sir David, were on horseback, and led the van. Then followed one of the duke's carriages, with outriders, in which were the duke's sisters, the Ladies Letitia and Lucy, accompanied by two grand nieces of the Duchess Dowager d'Aremberg. Then came on another coach of the duke's, in which were seated the duchess and Lady Adelaide. Footmen, mounted, closed the cavalcade. The Duke d'Aremberg had been invited to the collation; but it appeared that he was gone into Holland, on a visit at the Hague, for which he had immediately departed, upon his proposals having been rejected by the Lady Adelaide.
The ancient chateau of Tervuren[50] had been built by the dukes of Brabant. It was situated in the forest of Soignies, and distant two leagues and a half from Brussels. It was remarkable for its antiquity, and all that sombrous magnificence which pertained to those castles, whose foundations were laid in the days of chivalry. It was circumvallated by a deep and extensive fosse, broad and deep enough almost indeed to be dignified with the name of lake. Four several draw-bridges connected the castle with the park, and pleasure-boats were stationed on the water. Here too was seen, sailing majestically along, the mild and gentle swan, the peaceful king of water birds, guarding his watery realm in tranquil peace, unawed by the bird of Jove, with whom he dares to combat, and even to conquer, although seeking not the conflict.[51]
Indeed the swans constituted the chief ornament of the artificial lakes that were dispersed through the park and pleasure-grounds, and besides animated and adorned the gloomy fosse that sullenly surrounded Tervuren Castle.
The grand saloon of this once royal residence was of an extraordinary size and dimensions. The ceiling and wainscot were formed of rich and beautifully carved oak, which attracted much admiration. There were also two other state apartments, the walls of which were decorated with tapestry from designs of Rubens and the younger Teniers. And exclusive of these three large state apartments, this once royal chateau could boast of no other internal splendour or decoration. The park, however, was fine, crowned with lofty woods, and the pleasure grounds adorned with the united efforts of taste and art, which failed not to yield delight to the spectator. Here, during the summer months, the duke and duchess and family, with parties of their friends, frequently visited; and having partaken of a cold dinner previously prepared, have strolled forth in the calm of evening, and lingered until a late hour amid the groves and pleasure grounds, listening with much delight to the warbling of the nightingale.
The entertainment given this day was at the sole expense of Sir Patricius Placebo, who felt exceedingly gratified thereat, as he expressed himself, for the permission thus granted him by his noble patron, and said:
"Accredit me, noble Sir, under your sage decidement, I flatter myself that this day's entertainment will sufficiently prove that there are those living who fully understand the scavoir vivre—ay, critically well as ever Lucullus or Apicius did; for, ahem,
DOSS MOI TANE STIGMEN!
as doubtless, when the important hour of dinner arrives, I trust that your Grace will be free to——But tempus et hora—let the time and season tell! I shall not boast too soon, but leave it to your Grace's discreet arbitrament! That will be, my Lord, the tempus opportunum perfectly to illustrate the noble theory of luxury! at which methinks your Grace shall marvel much."
"For me to dissent," rejoined the duke, "my good Sir Patricius, from the two high authorities whom you have cited, would be somewhat too like Diogenes, surrounded with sunshine, yet growling in his tub; and treason prepense certes against the noble culinary art!—besides ingratitude to mine honoured host of Tervuren!
"I know full well that Apicius Cælius, whom you quote as an authority, Sir Patricius, wrote a learned essay, de Arte Coquinaria—a treatise on the culinary art; and that he may well be considered as the Pontifex maximus Epicuri. But respecting and regarding the great Lucullus, whose distinction arose from a higher flight than a mere knowledge of the culinary art, I must observe, en passant, that I flatter myself I do somewhat resemble that great character, namely, in my fondness for retirement, which I only regret I had not sooner cultivated, as it would have placed me above the reach of ambition, and beyond the pangs of care!
"Indeed had I been born in Belgium, I am tolerably certain that my past life, instead of being occupied and engrossed in the turmoil of courts and camps, would tranquilly have passed over in pastoral seclusion; for man, Sir Patricius, say what we may,
'Proud man! though dressed in little brief authority,'
is after all but at best the poor and passive creature of time, place, period, and circumstance!—and, under this firm conviction, I know I should have wielded the shepherd's crook, and not the marshal's truncheon!"
"My Lord Duke, there is no gainsaying your Grace's dictum, which, in sooth, is fully illustrated by the beautiful lines of gentle Master Waller:—
The shaft duly struck its intended mark, and the duke evidently seemed pleased, for flattery, although, generally speaking, it is often rather coarsely served up,
The moment so important to Sir Patricius had now arrived—the time of dinner. The castle clock chimed forth the second hour, the baronet's eye sparkling with delight as he beheld the long extended commissary train of eatable artillery enter the salle de manger; many an ahem! and
DOSS MOI TANE STIGMEN!
were exultingly ejaculated forth when the dinner was duly arranged; and with delight he beheld the delicious banquet that lay before him, while gladly he observed the numerous delicacies which were duly recorded in his carte du jour, along with the choicest wines, from Malvoisie de Madere to "imperial Tokay." Various choice hors d'œuvres were served up, and succeeded by a splendid course of entremets, which concluded with a grand dessert.
Since the royal times of the Dukes of Brabant such an entertainment had not been witnessed in Tervuren Castle.
But there were luxuries this day produced which are not to be found in the carte du jour of either the famous restaurateurs Very, or Beauvillier, or at the celebrated Rocher de Cancale of modern Paris: videlicet—ortolan pies, the celebrated pâtes des foies gross[52] of Strasburgh, and the no less famed pâtès á croute de seigle des perdreaux rouges aux truffes, the far-famed Perigord pies, made of the red-legged partridge, and constructed by the confectionary skill and tact of the scientific pattissiers of Perigeux, the capital of the province of Perigord, in France,[53] a luxury well known, and often sent as acceptable presents to peers and princes.
The worthy baronet paid every attention and respect to his honoured guests, and received much praise for a banquet so recherchè, but it was the opinion of all that it was quite too magnifique, and totally out of character both with time and place.
The repast concluded, the ducal party sallied forth to enjoy their favourite walk in the delightful groves and gardens of Tervuren; and entering a summer-house they were agreeably surprised once more with the unceasing attention of Sir Patricius, for they here found tea, coffee, refreshments, fruits, liqueurs, &c., all ready for their acceptance. So soon as tea was over they again resumed their promenade. It was a charming summer evening in the beginning of June, the sky was clear and serene, the leaves of the surrounding forest were unruffled by a breath of air, the very zephyrs seemed at rest; the silent lake lulled to repose, presented, as in a mirror, each object deeply and distinctly reflected on its glassy surface; it seemed great Nature's holiday; while enraptured with delight they listened to the shrill mellow warbling of the nightingale, increased by the silence of the scene, and the tranquillity of the evening.
Upon this happy afternoon, enjoyed so rationally amid the tranquil secluded grounds and pleasure parks of the once royal castle of Tervuren, Lady Adelaide and Sir David Bruce, having been left aloof from the party, had taken a seat in one of the numerous summer-bowers which adorned the grounds, and in the day-time afforded shelter from the burning blaze of a Belgic sun, where, while the nightingale sweetly sung, Adelaide said, with a cheerful smile, "My dearest Bruce will not surely prove jealous if for a moment forgetting him, (for it could only be for a moment,") she added, with emphasis, "that here I pay the homage of my song to the sweet nightingale, the nightly songster of the grove; the lark is the sunny bird of morn, but the sweetly plaintive nightingale is exclusively the minstrel of the night!"
"Oh, no—oh, no, my dearest, my beloved Adelaide! come, pray, produce thy tablets, for I too am as much enraptured as thou canst be, with this sweet vocal minstrel of the night!"
"As soon done as said;—see, here they are, and accept them, for they are yours;—if they should please my dearest Bruce, I am fully repaid!"
ADDRESS TO THE NIGHTINGALE.
I.