Alida Part 8

And Detroit is destined to be remembered, as the place of the battle ground of one of the most remarkable and decisive actions that took place during the late war.

Shortly after this action was over, Bonville, who was one among the soldiers, returned to New-York. He furnished plausible reason, and obtained a furlough from his commanding officer, for leave of absence.

In the meantime, he thought again to visit Alida; he had at present a double motive again to address her,--and if he should prove successful, her expected fortune would make him ample amends for what he had squandered away in scenes of folly. And if the father of Theodore had become a bankrupt by misfortune, he had now almost become one by dissipation and extravagance.

Albert had been extremely busy through the day, and was just returning home from his store in Pearl-street one evening, when he met Bonville in Broadway on his way to his father's. He accosted him in a very friendly manner, and then interrogated him by numerous questions concerning the family,--and very inquisitively with regard to his sister. Albert made no reply that gave him any particular satisfaction. When they arrived at the house, they found no company except Mr. More. Alida was truly shocked and surprised at this unexpected visit from Bonville, who she had no idea was in town. After making to her his compliments, and expressing his pleasure at finding her well, he by degrees drew her into a conversation which lasted the greater part of the evening. He offered an ill-timed consolation for the absence of Theodore, and affected much regret,--although he said his case was not as deplorable as that of many others, as he was still among the living. That though he was a person he could not esteem, still he had felt so far interested in his welfare, as to make particular inquiries how the British were accustomed to treat their prisoners. He then gave some dark intimations against his general character, which could not fail to throw over the mind of Alida a deep dejection.

She was now apprised of the fate of Theodore:--She was unable to suppress the feelings of sorrow, that these words of Bonville had excited. She remained silent; wholly engrossed by the confused thoughts and sad ideas, that arose in succession in her mind, till at length she became regardless of all around her.

The penetrating eyes of Mr. More were fixed upon her during this conversation. He seemed wholly insensible to every other object. He was apprehensive that her heart was insensible to the strong affection that pervaded his own,--and he thought should she prove incapable of loving like himself, and should become devoted to another, thoughts he could scarcely endure,--though they sometimes impressed the idea that she might never be interested in his favour. Hope would again flatter him with the pleasing thought, that her bosom may have been fraught with congenial feelings, and her heart beat with sensations even more fervent than his own. Her image filled his waking thoughts, and disturbed with visionary happiness his sleeping hours,--yet it seemed to his devoted mind the love of merit alone; and he imagined that while she was happy, he could never be altogether otherwise.

After Mr. More and Bonville had taken leave, and her parents had retired to rest, Alida remained by the fire-side till a late hour. She was meditating on recent circ.u.mstances, on the many late trying events which had crowded so rapidly that they could scarcely be said to succeed each other, and which had given so great variety to her life, that for years had rolled on in the same peaceful, unvaried course. She felt displeased at Bonville for his insinuations concerning Theodore, which were ungenerous and ill-natured,--while he seemed to flatter himself with the idea that she would become forgetful of him. He had hitherto yielded to every selfish propensity, without once seriously reflecting on its consequences to himself or others. His understanding, warped by prejudice, and without control, often misled him, and the superiority an elevated station gave him caused him to neglect to practice those better principles of which his nature might have been capable. His pride would suffer to see Alida united to another, therefore he was determined not to relinquish her. He concluded that finally she would look upon Theodore with indifference, and become favourably disposed towards himself; while his regard for her should prove unchangeable. That, unacquainted as she was with the world, she would at length be brought to accede to his wishes. That his rhetoric operating on her inexperience would ultimately influence her in his favour.

CHAPTER XVI.

"Dejection pales thy rosy cheek, And steals the l.u.s.tre from thine eye; The minutes of each tedious hour, Are mark'd by sad anxiety:

"And all thy soft, endearing smiles, That spoke with such expressive grace, Alas! are fled, and only care Is seen upon that pensive face."

The sublime works of nature had shed abroad their cheering influences, and the mild and salubrious breezes of spring had succeeded to the bl.u.s.tering gales of winter. The parents of Alida made preparation to return to the country. Alida's father was declining in health. He had imparted to his son his wish for him to close and settle his mercantile affairs in the city, (as the times were dreary,) and return to the paternal estate. In the meantime, Albert's a.s.sistance was necessary to alleviate his father, as he was now advanced in years, and had princ.i.p.ally relinquished all public business, except attending to its calls only when requested in cases of emergency.

Mr. Bolton had been with the family several days, and attended them on board the steamboat. One would scarcely suppose that so interesting an exterior as his, blended with highly polished manners, should not have made some impression on the mind of Alida if her heart had been disengaged. Besides, he was a person too amiable not to be esteemed. His ideas with regard to Alida were altogether sanguine. He believed, as soon as he should ask the consent of her parents, he would easily obtain his wishes. He considered his own fortune already sufficient, without seeking more in the din of business. And he possessed many other advantages which pleaded in his favour. With these hopes of a.s.sured success, he made proposals to her father. The manner in which her father replied to him was altogether discouraging, which excluded the hope of his ever gaining the hand of his daughter by his consent. This denial was a sensible cause of chagrin to Mr. Bolton, but yet it did not discourage him.

The impatience sometimes of obtaining a thing which is refused to us, renders it still more desirable, and the heart is never in a greater flutter than when it is agitated with the fear of losing the object it most wishes to gain. Moreover, he believed that Alida was already interested in his favour, and he determined to suggest to her, the first opportunity, the plan to elope with him, and thus put it out of the power of her father to impede their happiness.

The day was calm and serene, and the air invigorating. The steam-boat floated slowly upon the waters in monotonous movement. There was music on board. A company of militia were going to the village of ----, where they usually paraded the town for several hours, took dinner at the hotel, and then returned again to the city.

Alida remained on deck nearly the whole way, to be a spectator of the various, beautiful landscapes that presented themselves on the river, particularly at this season of the year. A gentle breeze sprung up as they pa.s.sed the little islands at the entrance of the bay, on whose gla.s.sy surface the sun shone with meridian splendour, ill.u.s.trating the peculiar beauty of the diversified scenery. In the course of a few hours they arrived at the village of ----, where they obtained a conveyance to take them on to their family residence, where they arrived some time in the afternoon.

Although all nature was smiling around, and the variegated landscape never appeared more enchanting, birds of every description were seen chirping on the spray, and the trees resounded with their sportive melody, and Alida might still have been happy if she had never become acquainted with Theodore; yet while she had the appearance of serenity, she still cherished a secret uneasiness. She had never received any intelligence concerning him since they had last parted. She imagined herself altogether forgotten, as Bonville had frequently suggested.

Besides, he had represented Theodore as worthless. Harra.s.sed and oppressed by a thousand different conjectures, she could scarcely support herself under them with any degree of resignation.

In this frame of mind, in serious meditation, she took a seat by the window. The sun was declining slowly beneath the horizon to gladden other regions. The spire of the village church was tipped with gold, and the resplendent rays reflected from the window dazzled the eye. Above was the azure vault variegated with fleecy clouds; beneath was nature's verdant carpet. The little songsters of the adjoining grove were paying their tribute of praise in melodious strains. The bleating of the lambs, and the lowing of the milky train, re-echoed from the fields and valleys; while the gentle murmuring of the water-fall at the mill, with its rumbling cadence over the dam, was heard at a little distance. "How still is nature," said Alida. "The sun has withdrawn his radiance, yet the gleam from yonder western sky bespeaks him still at hand, promising to return with his reviving warmth when nature is refreshed with darkness. The bay is already beginning to be silvered over by the mild rays of the queen of night. Gently she steals on the world, while she bestows on us her borrowed splendour. She lights the wandering traveller, she warms the earth with gentle heat. She dazzles not the eye of the philosopher, but invites him to contemplate and admire. Scarcely a breeze is stirring; the shadow of each tree remains undisturbed; the unruffled bay and river glide smoothly on, reflecting nature's face.

Again the attention is drawn, and the eye wanders to yon vast concave, where the mind follows in silent wonder, wandering among the planets, till, struck with beauty of the whole, it acknowledges 'the Hand that made it is divine.'

"Surely," said Alida, "all nature conspires to calm the mind, to restore tranquillity, to soften every care and corroding thought. But what can ease the troubled mind, which, like the angry sea, after agitation by bl.u.s.tering winds, 'tis still tumultuous?" Where now, thought she, is Theodore? What sadness and difficulty may not his n.o.ble and generous spirit have had to encounter! His tender sensibility, his serene and pacific disposition, may have had numerous trials; and how unhappy he may be, who was ever ardent in his endeavours to communicate peace and happiness to others! When she reflected upon all his goodness, his zealous piety, his religious sentiments the same as her own, and recalled to her memory happier days, when she had listened with pleasure to the powerful eloquence of a corresponding spirit. And her esteem for him rose higher, while he commented on religious truths, and bade her place a firm dependence on Divine Providence. Amid these uneasy sensations, which filled the bosom of Alida with anxiety and grief, and left her mind in a state of despondency, the period arrived for the celebration of her father's birth-day, which brought with it, as usual, much company from the city, from the neighbouring village, with the parish minister and his family.

After her several sisters had arrived, and nearly all the company had collected, Alida entered the drawing-room with spirits somewhat re-animated. Bonville was already there. He arose and handed her to a seat. He accompanied the first salutations with many flattering compliments, but with all his endeavours to win her favour, he could not awaken even a temporary regard in the bosom of Alida. In the meantime, she had full leisure to observe his singular behaviour, to listen to his insinuating address, to hear him mention the name of Theodore, and when he observed her feelings were excited, to hear him suddenly change the subject. He sometimes appeared to regard her with an eye of pity, but it arose from a consciousness of his own errors, bordering on baseness. He felt unhappy at his own want of integrity, and his heart reproached him with injustice and treachery.

CHAPTER XVII.

A polished mien, with elegance of mind, A winning grace, with taste and sense refined, A kindly, sympathizing heart, sincere, The gloomy scene, the pensive thought to cheer.

In a series of events, a period at length arrived, which manifested to mankind, in a more melancholy degree, the shocking consequences and devastation of war, the overwhelming sorrow that is brought on families for the loss of friends, with the discouraging embarra.s.sments attending all kinds of business.

A severe engagement had recently taken place within half a mile of the Niagara cataract. General Scott, on his arrival at Niagara Falls, learned that the British were in force directly in his front, separated only by a narrow piece of wood. He soon pressed through the wood, and engaged the British on the Queenstown road. He advanced upon the enemy, and the action commenced at six o'clock in the afternoon, and continued with little intermission until twelve at night. The thunder of the cannon, the roaring of the falls, the incessant discharge of artillery during the six hours in which the parties were in combat, heightened by the circ.u.mstance of its being night, afforded such a scene as is rarely to be met with in the history of the wars of nations. The evening was calm, and the moon shone with l.u.s.tre when not enveloped in clouds of smoke from the firing of the contending armies. Taking into consideration the numbers engaged, few contests have ever been more sanguinary. The battle was one of the most severe that had been fought during the war. The British troops engaged in this action amounted to 5000 men; many of them were selected from the flower of Lord Wellington's army. Colonel Miller's achievement, in storming the battery, was of the most brilliant and hazardous nature, and ent.i.tled him to the highest applause among the Americans.

The measures of the president relative to the war were of such a nature as greatly to draw upon him the approbation and grat.i.tude of the nation.

He early began to turn his mind to a contemplation of the general politics of his country. He, therefore, became advanced in the requisite qualifications to a.s.sume and maintain the important station he held over it. He had imbibed an attachment for civil liberty almost from his infancy, which influenced his every action. He was of a pacific temperament, and pursued those measures as long as they would answer.

But when it became actually necessary for him to recommend to congress to pursue a different course, it was then that the benefactor of his country endeavoured to concert measures still to preserve America as an asylum for civil and religious liberty. He possessed qualities well calculated to fulfil the duties of his high station with honour to himself and justice to the community. He was dignified in his deportment, kind, generous, and condescending; a patron to science; a uniform promoter of honourable enterprise, but an enemy to every thing dishonest, hypocritical, and disingenuous. And, as a Christian, he firmly adhered to the gospel, and regulated his life by its precepts and injunctions, in a consistent and exemplary manner. This ill.u.s.trious president had the good fortune to be blessed with a consort whose qualifications in her particular capacity were no less adequate to fill with dignity her elevated station. The parents of Mrs. Madison were natives of Virginia. Their daughter was educated in Philadelphia among the Friends. She was, therefore, little indebted to acquired graces and accomplishments for the admiration and regard which followed her wherever she was known. To much personal beauty she added a warm heart and a benevolent disposition--charms and attractions which won for her not only admirers but friends, and exalted her to high eminence in the public estimation. Her natural and acquired endowments she carried into society with such pleasing manners and graceful demeanour, as produced almost universally an impression highly favourable to herself among the citizens of Washington. Her society was much esteemed in all the companies she frequented. Her mental powers were of a superior grade, and the effects of genuine piety and Christian benevolence distinguished all her actions. To these she added an amiability of temper, the polished address of a lady, with a conversation both pleasing and instructive. Her deportment to all was prepossessing, by the affectionate manner in which she addressed them separately, and the interest she manifested in their welfare. In these she showed no difference between the rich and the poor, and devoted much of her time to the cause of charity. She was eminently distinguished for her amiable qualities, and a peculiar versatility of talent in her conversation and manners. She entertained the numerous friends and guests of the president with cordial hospitality. She treated her husband's relatives with regard and kindness; and in the president's house, whenever there were female guests, Mrs. Madison always presided.

After the president's, the house of the secretary of state was the resort of most company. The frank and cordial manners of its mistress gave a peculiar charm to the frequent parties there a.s.sembled. All foreigners who visited the seat of government, strangers from the different states of the Union, the heads of departments, the diplomatic corps, senators, representatives, and citizens, mingled with an ease and freedom, a sociability and gaiety to be met with in no other society.

Even party spirit, virulent and embittered as it then was, by her gentleness, was disarmed of its asperity.

Individuals who never visited the president's dwelling, nor met at the other ministerial houses, could not resist the softening influences of her conciliatory disposition, with her frank and generous manners. She was constantly receiving and reciprocating civilities in the most kind and friendly manner with the inhabitants of Washington. The president, being wholly absorbed in public business, left to Mrs. Madison the discharge of the duties of social intercourse. And never was woman better calculated for the task. Exposed as she necessarily was, in so conspicuous a situation, to envy, jealousy, and misconstruction, she so managed as to conciliate the good-will of all, without offending the self-love of any of the numerous compet.i.tors for her favour and attention. Every visiter left her with the pleasing impression of being an especial favourite, of having been the object of peculiar attention.

She never forgot a name she had once heard, nor a face she had once seen, nor the personal circ.u.mstances connected with every individual of her acquaintance. Her quick recognition of persons, her recurrence to their peculiar interests produced the gratifying impression in each and all of those who conversed with her that they were especial objects of regard. The house was very plainly furnished, and her dress in no way extravagant; and it was only in hospitality and charity that her profusion was unlimited. The amiable and engaging qualities which have been here described, characterized Mrs. Madison in her husband's public life. In the midst of the bitterness of party spirit, and the violence of political animosity, she was mild and courteous to all. The political a.s.sailants of her husband she treated with a kindness which disarmed their hostility of its individual rancour, and sometimes even converted political enemies into personal friends, and still oftener succeeded in neutralizing the bitterness of opposition.

At this period her courage and firmness were put to a severe test. In August, 1814, the British troops landed forty miles below Washington, and approached that city. The president left the city to hold a council of war. Before his departure he anxiously inquired if she had courage or firmness to remain in their house until his return on the morrow, or succeeding day. She a.s.sured him she had no fear but for him and the success of the army. When the president reached Bladensburgh he unexpectedly found the two armies engaged. Meanwhile terror spread over the city--all who could obtain conveyances fled to the adjoining towns.

The sound of the cannon was distinctly heard, and universal confusion and dismay prevailed. Some personal friends who remained with Mrs.

Madison, strongly urged her to leave the city. They had her carriage brought to the door, but could not persuade her to enter it till her husband should return, and accompany her. And she did not finally depart till several messengers had been despatched to bid her fly. Much as she graced her public station, she was not less admirable in domestic life.

Neighbourly and companionable among her country friends, as if she had never lived in a city, delighting in the society of the young, and never better pleased than when promoting every youthful pleasure by her partic.i.p.ation;--she still proved herself the affectionate consort, without neglecting the duties of a kind hostess, and a faithful friend and relation. She smoothed and enlivened, occupied and appeased, each varying scene of life. Her husband knew, appreciated, and acknowledged the blessing which heaven had bestowed on him, in giving him such a companion.

CHAPTER XVIII.

And many an aching heart at rising morn, A sad memento of the day that's past, From long protracted slumbers, slowly drawn; From wearied spirits--with a gloom o'ercast.

All business of importance, at this time, was in a manner suspended in New-York; the face of things wore a dismal aspect, and the greater part of the community were in dismay; occasioned by the continuance of hostilities with Great Britain. All appeared in a declining state, discouraging to the industry and best prospects of the inhabitants;--and although there had been some rumours of peace, it was not yet concluded.

A severe battle had lately taken place at New-Orleans, in which the Americans were victorious. Another was fought some little time afterwards on Lake Champlain. The British fleet, with 1050 men approached Plattsburgh, while the American fleet were lying off that place. The British fleet bore down upon them in order of battle, commanded by sir George Prevost, Governor General of Canada. Commodore Macdonough, the American commander, ordered his vessels to be cleared for action, and gallantly received the enemy. The engagement was exceedingly obstinate. After a contest of two hours, the British ships and several sloops of war fell into the hands of the Americans. Before sunset the temporary batteries of the enemy were all silenced, and every attempt to cross from Plattsburgh to the American works was repelled. At nine o'clock the object was abandoned, and the British general hastily drew off his forces. Large quant.i.ties of military stores were left behind, and fell into the hands of the Americans.

The people of the United States were at this time divided into two political parties; one party condemned the war as unwise and unnecessary; the other contending that the war was just, and necessary, for the maintenance of national honour. The opposition to the war was the greatest in the New England states, and during its continuance this opposition was confirmed. Enlistments of troops were in some instances discouraged, and dissentions arose between the general and state governments, respecting the command of the militia, called out by order of the former, to defend the sea-board. Accordingly the legislature of Ma.s.sachusetts appointed delegates to meet and confer with the delegates from the states of New England, or any of them, upon the subject of their public grievances and concerns. The delegates met at Hartford, Connecticut, in 1815, and sat nearly three weeks with closed doors. This convention consisted of delegates from the state of Ma.s.sachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island; two members from New Hampshire, and one from Vermont. After their adjournment, the convention published an address, charging the nation with pursuing measures hostile to the interest of New England, and recommended amendments to the Federal Const.i.tution. The report of the Hartford Convention concluded with the resolution providing for the calling of another convention, should the United States refuse their consent to some arrangements,--whereby the New England States, separately, or in concert, might be empowered to a.s.sume upon themselves the defence of their territory against the enemy.

The committee appointed to communicate these resolutions to Congress, met at Washington the news of peace: and owing to this event, another Convention was not called. And may it never be the fate of America, to be again involved in hostilities with her mother country, from whence is derived her revered religion;--each nation possessing towards the other reciprocal fellow-feelings, becoming Christian brethren.

How shall we to his memory raise A theme that's worthy to record; The tribute of a nation's praise In grateful accents sent abroad.

Let eloquence his deeds proclaim.

From sea-beat strand to mountain goal; Let hist'ry write his peaceful name.

High on her truth-illumin'd scroll.

Let poetry and art through earth, The page inspire, the canva.s.s warm, In glowing words record his worth.

In living marble mould his form.

A fame so bright will never fade, A name so dear will deathless be; For on our country's shrine he laid The charter of her liberty.

Praise be to G.o.d: his love bestowed The chief, the patriot, and the sage; Praise G.o.d! to him our father owed This fair and goodly heritage.

The sacred gift time shall not mar.