“22nd, arrived at Brussels.
“23rd, left Brussels for Namur.
“24th, arrived at Namur.
“25th, left Dinant, passed through Givet, and the forest of Ardennes, and arrived at Mezieres. Friday, April 26th, hired another carriage to take us to Sedan, or to Verdun, in case of not meeting my beloved Brenton; but heaven allowed me to enjoy that supreme happiness, and I thought no more of the fatigues of the journey. Grant, O most merciful God, that I may never cease to feel a proper sense of Thy goodness, however impossible it must be for me to express half the gratitude I feel for Thy continued proofs of mercy, and favour, to myself and all dear to me.
“Saturday, the 27th, slept at Stenay, and arrived at Verdun on Sunday the 28th.”
These memoranda may appear unimportant, and irrelevant to the subject of our present biography; but yet they seem to justify Captain Brenton in having planned a journey, which, by those less deeply interested, might have been condemned as being too full of peril, and involving too much hardship to the object of his affection. His wife’s example may also serve to animate some drooping spirits placed under similar circumstances; and if it be true, as no member of the Church of England will deny, that matrimony was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity; we cannot but feel that the purposes of this merciful ordinance were singularly realised in the case before us. His own grateful reflections on the subject, are thus further expressed. “Our meeting was indeed one of pure, and unmixed felicity. My beloved wife forgot in a moment all her fatigue, and anxieties; and the recollection of captivity itself was instantly banished from my thoughts, or if I remembered it at all, it was as a blessing which brought me the happiness I enjoyed. I had been long impatiently expecting this joyful event, and the evening before had received a letter from my beloved wife, informing me of her arrival at Rotterdam. I was then living in the little village of Clermont, a few miles distant from Verdun. On this notice reaching me, I requested permission of the General to go as far as Sedan, to meet my family, which was kindly granted. On my road I was most anxiously examining every carriage as it approached. At sunset I had got within three miles of Sedan, and had begun to give up all hopes of seeing the object of my wishes; when I espied a travelling carriage, I felt a presentiment that it contained all I held most dear in the world, and was soon convinced of it.
“We only stopped one day at Verdun, and then removed to Clermont, where we passed some days in perfect happiness. The distance however from Clermont to Verdun was too great for convenience, as the village afforded but few requisites for a family, and I was also frequently called upon in behalf of the prisoners. I therefore procured a lodging at Charni, a little village on the Meuse, about two miles from Verdun, in a most commodious house, with a very respectable family.” Of the events of the following year, which was passed in captivity, we can only find any account by referring to the memoranda and notes, out of which the following extracts have been taken.
In reference to Charni, Captain Brenton says, “Our retreat here was a most delightful one, in a spacious mansion belonging to Monsieur de Beaumont, who was of an ancient and noble family. We had an excellent suite of apartments, and the use of an extensive garden. The season of the year was particularly delightful; and every thing for some time conspired to make us enjoy as much felicity as human nature is capable of doing. If I had not entirely forgotten that I was a prisoner, I ceased to feel the pressure of captivity, and was resigned to my lot. An anxious thought of being deprived of the active exercise of my profession would now and then intrude, but it was soon dispelled in the recollection of the happiness I enjoyed. This however received some interruption a short time afterwards, from my health being seriously attacked. I had caught a cold, which in the month of June brought on spitting of blood. I hope the precaution I took of concealing this alarming symptom from my beloved companion, rendered her apprehensions less dreadful to her; but I allowed my own mind to be extremely depressed. I considered a rapid decline to be the inevitable consequence; and the thoughts of my dear and helpless family, left unprovided for, and unprotected, in a foreign land, and in an enemy’s country, preyed upon my spirits with a force that I cannot describe. It is unknown to all but myself, how many hours of dreadful anxiety I suffered on this account, and indeed on my own; for these very feelings prove that I was not prepared for death; that I was but a nominal christian. So blind, and worldly minded I was, that I derived no comfort from the assurances given in every part of scripture, of the mercy and goodness of God. I could not then comfort myself by resigning all I held dear into the hands of that Bountiful Creator, who gave them to me. I felt as though their happiness depended upon my sole exertions; and that without me they must be destitute. It is this way of thinking, this practical want of faith, disguise it as we may, which is the cause of all our anxiety, and even of all the misery we meet with. It could not exist, were we as sensible, as we persuade ourselves we are, of the Omnipotence, and the Omnipresence, and the merciful goodness of God. Often have I tried to reason myself into this firm trust and confidence in the Divine mercy, but the sick bed, the dear disconsolate widow, and the unprotected infant were objects, which with all my efforts, I could not look beyond; and yet, I should have thought the greatest injustice had been done me, if any one at the time had called in question the sincerity of my religious profession. I felt as though I were living in a general, if not a constant practice of its duties. How little do we know ourselves, till the day of trial comes. I could read treatises upon patience and resignation with the most cordial concurrence in every argument; and even wonder that they were not universally efficacious; but when called upon to practice what they prescribed, I found I was indeed living without God in the world. I did not dare to impart these wretched feelings to my beloved and inestimable wife, in the apprehension of affecting her, and thus I lost the balm of her affectionate counsels.
“The attack which I experienced, would, I am now convinced, have been of little importance, but for the effect I allowed it to have upon my mind. This aggravated its force, and it soon assumed so serious an appearance as threatened to realize all my apprehensions. What a lesson is this for you, my dear children, to teach you the folly as well as the wickedness of worldly anxiety. How often do the evils we dread never reach us; whilst the blow which humbles us comes from a quarter where we least expected it. Even the events, which seem to menace us with some serious calamity, frequently become instruments of good to us. Nearly thirteen years have now elapsed since this period; and instead of the evil I foreboded, my health has probably been strengthened and preserved, by the care and precaution which that illness rendered necessary. It was the cause of my removing from Verdun to the interior of France, to the most delightful climate, where I soon nearly recovered. All my apprehensions were groundless. I was mercifully preserved to those so justly dear to me, and preserved by a gracious Providence to be the humble instrument of their future welfare.