Tales from "Blackwood," Volume 2

by Various

The late Mr Devereux and his sister, said my friend, were the only children of Roger Devereux, Esq., and Dame Ethelred, his wife, whose venerable and dignified old age I well remember, for it was extended to such a patriarchal term, that “the young folks” (as they were wont to term their son and daughter, “the young Squire and Miss,” as Mr Reginald and Miss Devereux were called by the servants and tenantry) had attained—the former to the mature age of fifty years—the latter to that of forty-eight, before the children were called on to pay the last duties to those dear and honoured parents, to whom they had been children indeed—in a sense of the word little understood in our day of enlightened liberality, when, for the most part, the obsolete virtues that were then thought beautiful and becoming in the filial character (deferential tenderness and submissive duty), are cast aside with other antique trumpery, and triumphantly superseded by the improved system of familiar intercourse, on terms of perfect equality, friendly and confidential, or cold and ceremonious, according to the character and circumstances of the parties, whose filial and parental relations, like those of “the beasts that perish,” appear to cease with the flight of the young brood, or the sprouting of its pen-feathers. I can remember that when I was an idle boy, the antiquated fashions of Devereux Hall sometimes excited in me “a laughing devil,” that was scarcely repressed by the frowning of my anxious mother, or my own profound veneration for our excellent friends and neighbours—and that the wicked spirit had nearly got the better of me on more than one occasion, when Mrs Devereux would tenderly censure for “youthful heedlessness or imprudence” the sedate spinster, whose years outnumbered those of my own mother, or when Mr Reginald, while undergoing his seventh annual attack of gout, was alluded to as “the dear boy,” by his sympathising father. But if my boyish mirth was sometimes excited by these and suchlike innocent and natural incongruities, far other feelings—such as I firmly believe have been happily influential in the formation of my character—were oftener awakened in me, by the example, early witnessed at the dear old Hall, of tender union, pure morality, and genuine Christianity. And when I look back upon those old times and antiquated manners (antiquated even in that long past day), and contrast them with our modern times and modern code, I am disposed to think we have gained less by exploding the stateliness and formality of our ancestors, than we have lost in degenerating from their high-toned politeness and true English hospitality into fashionable ease, often (in the higher ranks especially) amounting to vulgarity, and a style of living with which it would be absurd to connect the idea of social intercourse. But, in fact, the country gentry of England have been long a deteriorated, and will soon be an extinct species. The last perfect specimens within my knowledge were the late possessors of Devereux Hall.

I have told you that Mr Devereux and his sister were far advanced in life when their parents paid the debt of nature. Both were single, also, as they continued to the last hour of their inseparable companionship; for, though “the young Squire” had been early wedded to the choice of his heart, and the selected of his parents—a fair and gentle being, who was transplanted to her husband’s home, and taken to the bosom of his family, only to win for herself its tender affection and undying remembrance—before the expiration of the nuptial year, the young wife and her new-born son slept in the vault of the Devereuxs, and her sorrowing husband (in this instance only resisting the gently implied wishes of his parents) could never be prevailed on to contract a second marriage.

His sister—the faithful sharer of all his joys and sorrows—was to him as a consoling angel in the season of his sore calamity. Her mind (the stronger of the two) was the support of his in its great trial, and her heart, tender as ever beat in a woman’s breast, was tuned to finer sympathy with his, by having also undergone the touchstone of affliction.

Eleanor Devereux had been wooed and won with the parental sanction—had loved tenderly—had trusted nobly—would have wedded splendidly in the world’s acceptation. But before the irrevocable knot was tied, the suspicions of her anxious father were awakened by certain unguarded expressions of his future son-in-law, which led to serious investigation on the part of Mr Devereux, and a reluctant, but unqualified avowal, of more than scepticism on the most sacred subject, from him to whom the truly Christian parent was about to commit the earthly welfare of his beloved child, and perhaps her eternal interests. Mr Devereux shrank not for a moment from the fulfilment of the duty imposed on him by this painful discovery. But when he imparted it to his darling, and required from her the sacrifice of those innocent hopes which had grown up under the fullest sanction of parental encouragement, the utmost exertions of manly fortitude, based on Christian principle, alone enabled him to persevere in his painful duty. There was no passionate remonstrance, no resisting wilfulness, no ebullition of violent feeling, on the part of the mild and right-minded Eleanor; but the quivering lip, the swimming upraised eye, the voice that faltered and failed in its endeavour to articulate her acquiescence to the required sacrifice—this voiceless eloquence went to the father’s heart, and his tears mingled with hers as he clasped her to his breast, inwardly ejaculating, almost in the words of the prophet-king—“Would to God I could suffer alone for thee, my child! my child!” For a while the hopeful tenderness of woman’s nature delayed Eleanor’s final decision, speciously whispering to her heart the possible blessedness of converting darkness into light, by the influence of holy example, and love’s unwearying persuasiveness. But the parental guardian was near, to suggest to her the dangerous fallacy of that fond illusion, and Eleanor’s love, though true and tender as ever woman felt, was not the blinding, all-engrossing passion “which refuses to hear the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely.” She wept and spoke not, but retired to her chamber, and for that day was seen no more; but the next morning brought her to her parents’ feet, with a colourless cheek indeed, but a look of such heavenly composure, as seemed reflected from the source of light to which she had resorted in her hour of mental darkness and distress; and though she hid her face on her mother’s lap, and her soft voice trembled in uttering the decisive words, they were spoken—the renunciation was made—and the sacrifice complete. How dear it cost her, was known only to God and her own heart; for, having renounced (as it then seemed to her) every view of earthly happiness for herself, she devoted herself the more assiduously to promote that of her parents and her brother, and of every living creature within the sphere of her benign influence, till at last, and by insensible degrees, she became blest in the consciousness of blessing, and never for one moment of her after life did she repent the act of that hour, the sharp agony of which had left behind it “Peace which passeth understanding.” But from thenceforth the lot of Eleanor Devereux was one of fixed celibacy. Hers were not transferable affections; and however, for her sake, the fond parents might have wished it otherwise, they could ill resist the pleading of the dutiful child, who only prayed to be allowed to cleave to them, and them only, and to her dear brother, in this life, as she hoped to be reunited to them in eternity. So it came to pass that the elder branch of the House of Devereux was destined to become extinct, when the bachelor brother and his maiden sister were removed from the Hall of their ancestors to the family burying-place, in the chancel of their parish church.

After the year of mourning and seclusion, religiously observed by Mr Reginald and his sister, for the loss of their last surviving parent, all things at the Hall fell into their former course, and, save the diminution of the family circle, and that the places of the revered elders at the hospitable board were now filled by their filial successors, little change was perceptible to readmitted guests; and the brother and sister resumed those habits of social intercourse with the large and respectable surrounding neighbourhood, which it had been the pleasure and principle of their parents to maintain, as in like manner devolved upon them by the example of revered progenitors.

The Devereuxs had been at one time the wealthiest, as they continued to be the most ancient family, in their part of the country; and on the succession of the last lineal descendant to the inheritance of his forefathers, the same liberality, and even stately hospitality, characterised the general establishment and style of entertainment at Devereux Hall, as had distinguished it under the rule of many preceding generations. Far less did it enter into the contemplation of the last Devereux to diminish aught of the munificent charities which had so long dispensed comfort and gladness, not only among the dependants of the family, and the peasantry on their estate, but in every poor man’s cottage for many miles around the venerable Hall. The bounteous stream flowed in its several channels with unabated regularity, and little was it suspected by any of those who shared as friends or dependants in its diffusive plenteousness, that the waters at the source were already shrunken, and threatened with fatal diversion from their ancient courses.

Yet such was the melancholy fact, though known only to Mr Devereux, his confidential man of law, and his distant relation, Mr Heneage Devereux, of whom you may remember Old Hallings made mention in terms of no special reverence, while we stood among the ruins of the demolished mansion. That man has been indeed a serpent in the bosom of his noble unsuspecting kinsman.

Very distantly related to the family of Devereux Hall, and still less akin by congeniality of character to its respected possessors, between them and Mr Heneage Devereux little social intercourse had at any time been kept up, though, unfortunately for my venerable friend, communication on matters of business became but too frequent between him and his wily kinsman, who acquired over him a strange and at the time inexplicable ascendancy; inexplicable even to Mrs Eleanor, whose stronger mind (had she been early aware of her brother’s circumstances) might have counteracted the influence so banefully exerted on his feebler character.

But loving her, dearly as ever brother loved the dearest sister—cherishing her as the inestimable companion—the faithful friend—almost the guardian angel of his life, Mr Devereux’s affection lacked that perfect confidence which “casteth out fear;” for, strange as was the anomaly, from some instinctive sense of weakness and inferiority, he stood in awe of the opinion of that gentle being whose tenderness and devotion to him were almost deferential. Motives of tenderness towards her—a desire to spare her the participation of his corroding cares, had doubtless their share in his ill-starred system of concealment—and having no other confidential friend and adviser, so it was that he became the prey—alas! I fear the victim—of his calculating, unprincipled relation.

I cannot detail to you—for all such are unknown to me—the minute and particular circumstances of those pecuniary transactions between my old friend and Mr Heneage Devereux, which ended in results so fatal to the former; but I have reason to believe that Mr Heneage, who had accumulated considerable wealth in mercantile speculations, found means in the first place to possess himself of certain bond debts and considerable mortgages on the property, incurred by the father and grandfather of Mr Devereux, as the pressure of the times or untoward casualties forced upon them the alternative of so burdening the family property, or the more energetic measure of wise and timely retrenchment. Mr Devereux’s legal adviser was undoubtedly in the interest of his speculating kinsman, whose primary object was to secure to himself the reversion of the family property, the entail of which ended with the late possessors. And Mr Heneage was well aware that he had no chance of being voluntarily selected as the heir of the Devereuxs.