CHAPTER XI

It was not till we were coming down St. Martin's Lane on the way to

Whitehall, that my thoughts ran clear again, and I could think upon the

designs I had formed. Until then, it seemed to me that I rode as in a

dream, seeing my thoughts before me, but having no power to look within

or consider myself. One thing too moved before me whenever I closed my

eyes; and that was the slow twisting frieze of the five figures against

the blue sky.

* * * * *

I spoke suddenly to James as we went.

"You will leave me," I said, "at the Whitehall gate; and go back to my

lodgings. Procure a pair of good horses at the Covent Garden inn; and

say we will leave them at any place they name on the Dover Road."

He answered that he would do so, and it was the first word he had spoken

since we had left Tyburn. At the palace-doors I found no difficulty in

admittance, for it was the hour for changing guard, and a lieutenant

that was known to me let me in at once; so I went straight in and across

the court, just as I was, in my dusty clothes and boots, carrying

nothing but my riding-whip. My mind now seethed with bitter thoughts and

words, now fell into a stupor, and I rehearsed nothing of what I should

say to His Majesty, except that I was done with his service and was then

going to France for a little, unless it pleased him to have me arrested

and hanged too for nothing. Then I would give him back his papers and

begone.

* * * * *

I came up the stairs to Mr. Chiffinch's lodgings, just as himself came

out; and he fell back a step when he saw me.

"Why, where do you come from?" he asked.

"They are after me," I said briefly. "But that is not all."

"Why, what else?" said he, staring at me.

"I am come from seeing the martyrdoms," I said.

"For God's sake!--" he cried; and caught me by the arm and drew me in.

"Now have you dined?" he said, when he had me in a chair.

"Not yet."

He looked at me, fingering his lip.

"I suppose you have come to see His Majesty?" he said.

I told him, Yes: no more.

"And what if His Majesty will not see you?" he asked, trying me.

"His Majesty will see me," I said. "I have something for him."

Again he hesitated. I think for a minute or two he thought it might be a

pistol or a knife that I had for the King.

"If I bring you to him," he said, "will you give me your word to remain

here till I come for you?"

"Yes; I will do that," I said. "But I must see him immediately."

"Well--" said Mr. Chiffinch. And then without a word he wheeled and went

out of the room.

I do not know how long I sat there; but it may have been half an hour. I

sat like a dazed man; for I had had no sleep, and what I had seen drove

away all desire for it. I sat there, staring, and pondering round and

round in circles, like a wheel turning. Now it was of Dorothy; now of

the Jesuits; now of His Majesty and Mr. Chiffinch; now again, of the

road to Dover, and of what I should do in France.

There came at last a step on the stairs, and Mr. Chiffinch came in. At

the door he turned, and took from a man in the passage, as I suppose, a

covered dish, with a spoon in it. Then he shut the door with his heel,

and came forward and set the dish down.

"Dinner first--" he said.

"I must see His Majesty," I repeated.

"Why you are an obstinate fellow, Mr. Mallock," he said, smiling. "Have

I not given you my word you shall see him?"

"Directly?"

He leaned his hands on the table and looked at me.

"Mr. Mallock; His Majesty will be here in ten minutes' time. I told him

you must eat something first; and he said he would wait till then."

* * * * *

The stew he had brought me was very savoury: and I ate it all up; for I

had had nothing to eat since supper last night; and, by the time I had

done, and had told him very briefly what had passed at Hare Street, I

felt some of my bewilderment was gone. It is marvellous how food can

change the moods of the immortal soul herself; but I was none the less

determined, I thought, to leave the King's service; for I could not

serve any man, I thought, whose hands were as red as his in the blood of

innocents.

I had hardly done, and was blessing myself, when Mr. Chiffinch went out

suddenly, and had returned before I had stood up, to hold the door open

for the King.

He came in, that great Prince,--(for in spite of all I still count him

to be that, _in posse_ if not _in esse_)--as airy and as easy as if

nothing in the world was the matter. He was but just come from dinner,

and his face was flushed a little under its brown, with wine; and his

melancholy eyes were alight. He was in one of his fine suits too, for

to-day was Saturday; and as it was hot weather his suit was all of thin

silk, puce-coloured, with yellow lace; and he carried a long cane in his

ringed hand. He might not have had a care in the world, to all

appearances; and he smiled at me, as if I were but just come back from a

day in the country.

"Well, Mr. Mallock"--he said; and put out his hand to be kissed.

Now I had determined not to kiss his hand--whatever the consequences

might be; but when I saw him like that I could do no otherwise; for my

love and my pity for him--(if I may use such a word of a subject towards

his Sovereign)--surged up again, which I thought were dead for ever; so

I was on my knees in an instant, and I kissed his brown hand and smelled

the faint violet essence which he used. Then, before I could say

anything, he had me down in a chair, and himself in another, and was

beginning to talk. (Mr. Chiffinch was gone out; but I had not seen him

go.)

"It is a bloody business," he said sorrowfully--"a very bloody business.

But what else could be done? If I had not consented, I would be no

longer King; but off on my travels again; and all England in confusion.

However; that is as it may be. What do you want to see me for, Mr.

Mallock?"

He spoke so kindly to me, and with such feeling too, and his

condescension seemed to me so infinite in his coming here to wait upon

me--(though this was very often his custom, I think, when he wished to

see a man or a woman in private)--that I determined to put off my

announcement to him that I could no longer be in his service. So first I

drew out from my waistcoat the packet I had taken from under my shirt,

and put there, while Mr. Chiffinch was away.

"Sir;" I said, "I have brought your packet back again. I have had no

word from you as to its delivery; and as I must go abroad to-day I dare

keep it no longer. Your Majesty, I fear, must find another messenger."

His face darkened for an instant as if he could not remember something;

but it lightened again as he took the packet from me, and turned it

over.

"Why; I remember," he said. "It was sealed within and without, was it

not?"

That seemed to me a strangely irrelevant thing to say but I told him,

Yes it was.

"And you were to deliver to--eh? what was his name?"

"Your Majesty told me that the name would be sent to me."

"Why, so I did," said the King, smiling. "Well; let us open the packet

and see what is within."

He took up a little ivory knife that was on the table by his elbow, and

slipped it beneath the folds of the paper, so as to burst open the

seals; and when he had done that, there was another wrapper, also

sealed. This seal he also scrutinized, still smiling a little; and then

he burst that; and when he had taken off that covering, a folded piece

of paper fell out. This he unfolded, and spread flat with his fingers;

and there was nothing written on that side; then he turned it over, and

shewed me how there was nothing written on that either. So the message I

had borne about me, was nothing in the world but a piece of blank paper.

I drew a long breath when I saw that; for my anger surged up at the way

I had been fooled; but before I could think of anything to say, the King

spoke.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "you have done very well. You understand it now,

eh?"

"No, Sir; I do not," I said.

"Why; it is a very old trick;" went on His Majesty, "to see if a

messenger will be faithful. Your folks did it first, I think, in Queen

Bess her reign; so as to risk nothing. And you have kept it all this

while!"

"I obeyed Your Majesty's commands," I said.

"Well; and you have delivered it to the right person." (He tossed the

papers altogether upon the table and turned to me again.) "Now, sir; I

had no real doubt of you; but others were not so sure; and I consented

to this to please them; so now that all has been done, I can use you

more freely, if you will: I have more than one mission which must be

done for me; and if you like it, Mr. Mallock, you may have the first."

"Sir; I must go to France immediately. The hunt is up, after me, too."

"What do you mean by that?" he said sharply. "The hunt! What is that?"

"I would not weary Your Majesty with it all; but the truth is that the

fellow Dangerfield, who came after me here, came yesterday with a

magistrate and near a dozen men, to Hare Street to take me. I eluded

them, and came to London."

"You eluded them! How was that?"

Well; I told him as shortly as I could; and he laughed outright when I

came to my Cousin Dolly's part in it.

"Why: that was very wittily done!" he said. "The minx!"

I did not much like that; but I could not find fault with the King.

"And I was at Tyburn this morning, Sir."

"What! At Tyburn!"

"At Tyburn, Sir; and I was so sick at heart at what I saw there--five of

Your Majesty's most faithful servants murdered in the name of justice,

that I would not have cared greatly if I had been hanged with them."

His face darkened a little; but not with anger at me.

"It is a bloody business, as I have said," he said gently. "But

come!--it is to France that you go."

"There is as good as any other place," I said, "so I be out of the

kingdom. I have estates there, too."

"But to France will suit very well," said the King. "For it is to France

that I designed to send you. I have plenty of couriers who can take

written messages, and I have plenty of men who can talk--some think, too

much; but I have no one at hand at this moment whom I can send to Court,

and who will acquit himself well there, and that can take a message

too--none, that is, that is not occupied. What do you say, Mr. Mallock?

Would a couple of months there please you?"

Here then was the time for my announcement; for I knew that if I did not

make it then I should make it never.

I stood up; and my heart beat thickly.

"Sir," I said. "Six months ago I would have run anywhere to serve you.

But in six months many things have happened; and I cannot serve a Prince

any more who cannot keep his word even to save the innocent. I had best

be gone again to Rome, I think, and see what they can give me there. I

am sick of England, which I once loved so much."

It was those very words--or others very like them that I said. I do not

know where I got the courage to say them, for my life lay altogether in

the King's hand: a word from him, or even silence, and I should have

kicked my heels that night in Newgate, and a week or two later in the

air, on a charge of being in with the Jesuits in their plot. Yet I said

them; for I could say nothing else.

His Majesty's face turned black as thunder as I began; and when I was

done it was all stiff with pride.

"That is your mind, Mr. Mallock, then?" he said.

"That is my mind, Sir," I answered him.

And then a change went over his face once more. God knows why he

relented; I think it may have been that he had somewhat of a fancy for

me, and remembered how I had pleased him and tried to serve him. And

when he spoke, it was very gently indeed.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "those are very brave words. But I think they

are not worthy of a man of your parts. For consider; were you not sent

here by the Holy Father to help a poor sinner who had need of it? And is

it Catholic charity to leave the sinner because of his sins?"

I said nothing to that; for I was all confounded at his mildness. I

suppose I had braced myself for something very different.

"It is true I am not a Catholic; but were you not sent here, in answer

to my entreaty, that you might help to make it easy for me to become

one? Is it apostolic, then, to run away so soon--"

"If Your Majesty," I burst out, "would but shew some signs--"

He lifted his eyebrows at that.

"Signs! In these days?" he said. "Why, I should hang, myself, in a

week's time! Are these the days, think you, to shew Catholicism? Why; do

you not think that my own heart is not near broken with all I have had

to do?"

He spoke with extraordinary passion; for that was his way when he was

very deeply moved (which, to tell the truth, however, was not very

often). But I have never known a man so careless and indolent on the

surface, who had a softer heart than His Sacred Majesty, if it could but

be touched.

"The blood of God's priests," he cried, holding the arms of his chair so

that it shook--"their blood cries from the ground against me! Do you

think I do not know that? Yet what can I do? I am tied and bound by

circumstance. I could not save them; and in the attempt I could only

lose my own life or throne as well. The people are mad for their blood!

Why Scroggs himself said in public at one of the trials, that even the

King's Mercy could not come between them and death. And it is at this

moment, then, that the servants to whom I had looked to help me, leave

me! Go if you will, Mr. Mallock, and save your own soul. You shall have

a safe passage to France; but never again speak to me of Catholic

charity."

Every word that he said rang true in my heart. It was true indeed, as he

said, that no effort of his could have saved the men, and he could only

have perished himself. There were scores of men, even among his own

guards, I have no doubt, who would have killed him if he had shewn at

this time the least mercy, or the least inclination towards Catholicism.

His back was to the wall; he fought not for himself only, but for

Monarchy itself in England. There would have been an end of all, and we

back again under the tyranny of the Commonwealth if he had acted

otherwise; or as I had thought that he would.

He had scarcely finished when I was on my knees before him.

"Sir," I cried, "I am heartily ashamed of myself. I ask pardon for all

that I have said. I will go to France or to anywhere else; and will

think myself honoured by it, and by the forgiveness of Your Majesty.

Sir; let me be your servant once more."

The passion was gone from his face as he looked down on me there; and he

was, as before, the great Prince, with his easy manner and his

unimaginable charm.

"Why that is very well said," he answered me. "And I shall be glad to

have your services, Mr. Mallock. Mr. Chiffinch will give you all

instructions."

* * * * *

"That was a very bold speech," said Mr. Chiffinch presently, when the

King was gone away again--"which you made to His Majesty."

"Why, did you hear it?" I cried.

He smiled at me.

"Why, yes," he said. "I was behind the open door just within the further

chamber. I was not sure of you, Mr. Mallock, neither was the King for

that matter."

"Sure of me?"

"I thought perhaps we might have a real threatener of the King's life,

at last," he said. "You had a very wild look when you came in, Mr.

Mallock."

"Yet His Majesty came; and unarmed!" I cried: "and as happy as--as a

King!"

"Why, what else?" asked Mr. Chiffinch.

Our eyes met; and for the first time I understood how even a man like

this, with his pandering to the King's pleasures, and his own evil life,

could have as much love and admiration for such a man, as I myself had.

PART II

CHAPTER I

I do not mean to set down in this volume all that befell me during the

years that I was in the King's service, partly because that would make

too large a book, but chiefly because there were committed to me affairs

of which this French one was the first, of which I took my oath never to

speak without leave. Up to the present in England nothing had been said

to me which would be private twenty years afterwards; I take no shame at

all at revealing what little I was able to do for the King personally in

England--(except perhaps in one or two points which must not be spoken

of)--nor of my adventures and my endeavours to be of service to those

who were one with me in religion; but of the rest, the least said the

soonest mended. So the best plan which I can think of is to leave out on

every occasion all that passed, or very nearly all, when I was out of my

country, both in France and Rome, for I went away--on what I may call

secret service--three times altogether between my first coming and the

King's death. It is enough to say that this time I was in Paris about

three months, and in Normandy one; and that I had acquitted myself, so

far, to His Majesty's satisfaction.[A]

[Footnote A: Plainly this business of Mr. Mallock had some connection

with Charles' perpetual intrigues with France, for Louis' support of

him. At this time Charles' intrigues were a little unsuccessful; so it

may be supposed that without Mr. Mallock they would have been even

worse.]

I returned to London then on the night of the sixteenth of November, of

the same year; and I brought with me a letter to the King from a certain

personage in France.

Now to one living in a Catholic country the rumours that come from

others not so happy, are either greatly swollen and exaggerated in his

mind, or thought nothing of. It was the latter case with me. I was in

high favour on both sides of the Channel; and this, I suppose made me

think little of the troubles in my own country: so when I and James

reached London late in the evening, after riding up from Kent, I went

straight to Whitehall, as bold as brass to demand to see Mr. Chiffinch.

We had ridden fast, and had talked with but very few folks, and these

ignorant; so that I knew nothing of what impended, and was astonished

that the sentinels at the gate eyed me so suspiciously.

"Yes, sir," said the younger, to whom I had addressed myself, "and what

might your business with Mr. Chiffinch be?"

I had learned by now not to quack gossip or to parley with underlings;

so I answered him very shortly.

"Then fetch the lieutenant," I said; and sat back on my horse like a

great person.

When the lieutenant came he was one I had never seen before, nor he me;

and he too asked me what I wanted with Mr. Chiffinch.

"Lord, man!" I cried, for I was weary with my journey, and a little

impatient. "Do you think I shall blurt out private business for all the

world to hear? Send me under guard if you will--a man on each side--so

you send me."

He did not do that (for I think he thought that I might be some

important personage from my way with him), but he would not let James

come in too; and he said a man must go with me to show me the way.

"Or I, him," I said. "However; let it be so;" and I told James to ride

on to the lodgings, and make all ready for me there.

Now I had heard in France of the events in the kingdom; but as they had

not greatly affected Catholics, and, if anything, had even helped them,

I was in no great state of mind. Within a week of my getting to Paris

the news came of how the Duke of Monmouth had been sent with an army to

Scotland and had trounced the Highlanders (who prayed and preached when

they should have fought) at Bothwell Bridge on the river Clyde; and of

the punishment he inflicted on them afterwards; though this was nothing

to what Dr. Sharpe (who had been killed by them in May) or Lauderdale

would have done to them. Of Catholic fortunes there was not a great

deal of bad news, and some good: Sir George Wakeman, with three

Benedictines, was acquitted of any design to murder the King; and Mr.

Kerne, a priest, had been acquitted at Hereford of the charge under 27

Elizabeth--that famous statute, still in force, that forbade any priest

that had received Orders beyond the seas, to reside in England. On the

other hand, in the provinces, a few had suffered; of whom I remember, on

the Feast of the Assumption a Franciscan named Johnson, a man of family,

had been condemned at Worcester; and Mr. Will Plessington at Chester:

and these were executed. Since then, no deaths that I had heard of, had

taken place in England for such causes: and affairs seemed pretty quiet.

I was all unprepared then for the news I had from Mr. Chiffinch, as soon

as he had greeted me, and paid me compliments on the way I had done my

French business.

"You are come just in time," he said ruefully. "We are to have a great

to-do to-morrow, I hear."

I asked him what that might be, lolling in my chair, for I was stiff

with riding.

"Why it is your old friend Dangerfield, I hear, who is the thorn in our

pillow now. He hath first feigned to discover a Covenanting plot against

His Majesty; and then turned it into a Popish one. There has been much

foolish talk about a meal-tub, and papers hidden in it, and such-like:

and now there is to be a great procession of malcontents to-morrow, to

burn the Pope and the Devil and Sir George Jeffreys, and God knows who,

at Temple Bar. But that is not all."

"Why, what else?" I asked. "And why is not the procession forbidden?"

"Who do you think is behind it all?" he said. "Why; no one less than my

Lord Shaftesbury himself. Dangerfield is but one of his tools. And that

is not all."

"Lord!" said I. "What a troublous country!" (I spoke lightly, for I did

not understand the weight of all these events.) "What else is the

matter?"

"It is the Duke of Monmouth," he said, "who is the pawn in

Shaftesbury's game. My Lord would give the world to have the Duke

declared legitimate, and so oust James. His Grace of Monmouth is

something of a popular hero now, after his doings in Scotland, and most

of all since he stands for the Protestant Religion. He hath dared to

strike out the bar sinister from his arms too; and goeth about the

country as if he were truly royal. So His Royal Highness is gone back to

Scotland again in a great fury; and His Majesty is once again in a

strait betwixt two, as the Scriptures say. There is his Catholic brother

on the one side; and there is this young spark of a Protestant bastard

on the other. We shall know better to-morrow how the feeling runs. His

Majesty was taken very ill in August; and I am not surprised at it."

* * * * *

This was all very heavy news for me. I had hoped in France that most at

least of the Catholic troubles were over, and now, here again they were,

in a new form. I sighed aloud.

"Heigho!" I said. "But this is all beyond me, Mr. Chiffinch. I had best

be gone into the country."

"I think you had," he said very seriously. "You can do nothing in this

place."

I was very glad when I heard him say that; for I had thought a great

deal of Hare Street, and of my Cousin Dolly there; and it was good news

to me to hear that I might soon see her again.

"But I must see the sight to-morrow," I said; and soon after that I took

my leave.

* * * * *

It was a marvellous sight indeed, the next evening. I went to see a Mr.

Martin in the morning, that lived in the Strand, a Catholic bookseller,

and got leave from him to sit in his window from dinner onwards, that I

might see the show.

It was about five o'clock that the affair began; and the day was pretty

dark by then. A great number of people began to assemble little by

little, up Fleet Street on the one side, the Strand on the other, and

down Chancery Lane in the midst; for it was announced everywhere, and

even by criers in some parts, that the procession would take place and

would end at Temple Bar. My Lord Shaftesbury, who had lately lost the

presidency of the Council, had rendered himself irreconcilable with the

Duke of York, and his only hope (as well as of others with him) lay in

ruining His Highness. All this, therefore, was designed to rouse popular

feeling against the Duke and the Catholic cause. So this was my welcome

home again!

It was strange to watch the folks assembling, and the gradual kindling

of the flambeaux. In the windows on either side of the street were set

candles; and a line of coaches was drawn up against the gutter on the

further side. But still more strange and disconcerting were the

preparations already made to receive the procession. An open space was

kept by fellows with torches to the east of the City Gate; and here,

looking towards the City, with her back to the Gate, close beside the

Pillory, stood Queen Bess in effigy, upon a pedestal, as it were a

Protestant saint in her shrine; for the day had been chosen on account

of its being the day of her accession and of Queen Mary's death. She was

set about with gilded laurel-wreaths, and bore a gilded sceptre; and

beneath her, like some sacrificial fire, blazed a great bonfire, roaring

up to heaven with its sparks and smoke. Half a dozen masked fellows, in

fantastic dresses, tended the bonfire and replenished the flambeaux that

burned about the effigy. Indeed it was strangely like some pagan

religious spectacle--the goddess at the entrance of her temple (for the

gate looked like that); and the resemblance became more marked as the

ceremonies were performed which ended the show. A Catholic might well be

pardoned for retorting "Idolatry," and saying that he preferred Mary

Queen of Heaven to Bess Queen of England.

It was from Moorfields that the procession came, and it took a good

while to come. But I was entertained enough by the sight of all the

people, to pass the time away. A number of gentlefolks opposite to my

window sat on platforms, all wrapped up in furs, and some of them

masked, with a few ministers among them; and I make no doubt that Dr.

Tonge was there, though I did not see him. But I did see a merry face

which I thought was Mistress Nell Gwyn's; and whether it was she or not

that I saw, I heard afterwards that she had been there, to His Majesty's

great displeasure.

And in the same group I saw Mr. Killigrew's face--that had been page to

Charles the First, and came back to be page to his son--for his

grotesque and yet fine face was unmistakable; the profligate fop Sir

George Etheredge, gambler and lampooner, with drink and the devil all

over him; solemn Thomas Thynne, murdered two years afterwards, for a

woman's sake, by Count Conigsmark, who was hanged for it and lay in

great state in a satin coffin; and last, my Lord Dover, with his great

head and little legs, looking at the people through a tortoiseshell

glass. The Court, or at least, some of it, enjoyed itself here, in spite

of the character of the demonstration. Meanwhile out of sight a great

voice shouted jests and catchwords resonantly from time to time, to

amuse the people; and the crowd, that was by now packed everywhere

against the houses, upon the roofs and even up Chancery Lane, answered

his hits with roaring cheers. I heard the name of the Duke of Monmouth

several times; and each time it was received with acclamation. Once the

Duke of York's was called out; and the booing and murring at it were

great enough to have daunted even him. (But he was in Scotland now--too

far away to hear it--and seemed like to remain there.) And once Mrs.

Gwyn's name was shouted, and something else after it; and there was a

stir on the platform where I thought I had seen her; and then a great

burst of cheering; for she was popular enough, in spite of her life, for

her Protestantism. (It was not works, they hated, thought I to myself,

but Faith!)

The first that I knew of the coming of the procession was the sound of

fifes up Fleet Street; and a great jostling and roaring that followed it

by those who strove to see better. I was distracted for an instant by a

dog that ran out suddenly, tail down, into the open space and

disappeared again yelping. When I turned again the head of the

procession was in sight, coming into view round the house that was next

to Mr. Martin's.

First, between the torches that lined the procession through all its

length, came a band of fifers, very fine, in scarlet tunics and stiff

beaver-hats; shrilling a dirge as they walked; and immediately behind

them a funeral herald in black, walking very upright and stiff, with a

bell in one hand which he rang, while he cried out in a great mournful

bellowing voice:

"Remember Justice Godfrey! Remember Justice Godfrey;" and then pealed

upon his bell again. (It was pretty plain from that that we Catholics

were to bear the brunt of all, as usual!)

Behind him came a terrible set of three. In the midst, led by a groom,

was a great white horse, with bells on his bridle sounding as he came;

and on his back an effigy, dressed in riding costume, with boots, and

with white riding gloves and cravat all spattered over with blood. His

head lolled on his shoulders, as if the neck were broken, turning a pale

bloody face from side to side, with fallen jaw and great rolling

melancholy eyes; for this was of Justice Godfrey. Beside him walked a

man in black, that held him fast with one hand, and had a dripping

dagger in the other--to represent a Jesuit. This was perhaps the worst

of all; but there was plenty more to come.

There followed, after Justice Godfrey, a pardoner, dressed as a priest,

in a black cope sown all over with death's heads, waving papers in his

hands, and proclaiming indulgences to all Protestant-killers, so loud

that he might be heard at Charing Cross; and next behind him a fellow

carrying a silver cross, that shone very fine in the red light of the

bonfire and the flambeaux, and drew attention to what came after. For

behind him came eight Religious, Carmelites and Franciscans, in the

habits of their Orders, going two by two with clasped hands and bowed

heads as if they prayed; and after them that which was, in intention,

the centre of all--for this was a set of six Jesuits in black, with lean

painted faces, each bearing a dagger which he waved, gnashing his teeth

and grinning on the folks.

There had been enough roaring and cheering before; but at this sight

the people went near mad; and I had thought for an instant that the very

actors would be torn in pieces for the sake of the parts they played.

Mr. Martin and his wife were close beside me in the window; and I turned

to them.

"We are fortunate not to be Jesuits," I said, "and known to be such. Our

lives would not be worth a pin."

He nodded at me very gravely: and I saw how white was his wife's face.

When I looked again a very brilliant group was come into view--four

bishops in rochets and violet, with large pectoral crosses. These walked

very proud and prelatical, looking disdainfully at the people who roared

at the burlesque; and behind them, again, four more in gilded mitres. (I

do not know what this generation knew of Catholic bishops; for not one

in a thousand of them had ever set eyes on one.)

After a little space followed six cardinals in scarlet, very gorgeous,

with caps and trains of the same colour. These swept along, looking to

neither right nor left, followed by a lean man in a black silk suit and

gown, skulking and bending, bearing a glass retort in one hand, and a

phial, with a label flying from it, in the other. On this was written, I

heard afterwards, the words "Jesuit-Powder"; but I could not read it

from where I was.

Then at last the tail of the procession began to come into view.

Two priests, in great white copes, bore aloft each a tall cross; and

behind them I could see through the flare and reek of the torches, a

vast scarlet chair advancing above the heads of the people. It was borne

on a platform, and was embroidered all over with gold and silver

bullion. Upon the platform itself were four boys, two and two, on either

side of the throne, in red skull-caps and cassocks and short white

surplices, each with a tall red cross held in the inner hand, and a

bloodstained dagger in the other, which they waved now and again. Upon

the throne itself sat a huge effigy. It was dressed in a scarlet robe,

embroidered like the throne; its feet in gold embroidered slippers were

thrust forward on a cushion; its hands in rich gloves were clasped to

the arms of the chair; and its grinning waxen face, very pale, was

surmounted by a vast tiara on which were three crowns, one above the

other. Round the neck hung a gold cross and chain; and a pair of great

keys hung down on one side. A devil in tight fitting black, with a

masked face, and long sprouting nails, with a tail hung behind him, and

two tall horns on his head, rolled his eyes from side to side, and

whispered continually into the ear of the effigy from behind the throne.

A great mob of people and torches and guards came shouting on behind.

And when I saw that, a kind of despair came upon me. If that, thought I,

is what my countrymen think of Catholics and the Holy Father, what use

to strive any more for their conversion?

* * * * *

By the time that the tail had come up, the rest of the procession was

disposed round the bonfire, leaving a broad space in the midst where the

throne and effigy might be set down.

And now there appeared on the Pillory beside the Queen's image, one of

the six cardinals that had come up a little while before, and began a

sort of rhyming dialogue with a choir that was set on another platform

over against him. I could not hear all that was said, although the

people kept pretty quiet to hear it too; but I heard enough. The

cardinal was proclaiming the Catholic Religion as the only means of

salvation and threatened both temporal and eternal punishment to all

that would not have it; and the choir answered, roaring out the glories

of England and Protestantism. The fifes screamed for the cardinal's

words, as if accompanying them; and trumpets answered him for England;

and at the end, shaking his fist at the Queen and with another gesture

as of despair he came down from the Pillory.

Then came the end.

The devil, behind the throne, slipped altogether behind it and stood

tossing his hands with delight; while meantime the effigy, contrived in

some way I could not understand, rose stiffly from the seat and stood

upright. First he lifted his hands as if in entreaty towards the

Queen's image; then he shook them as if threatening, meanwhile rolling

his head with its tiara from side to side as if seeking supporters. Two

men then sprang upon the platform, as if in answer, dressed like English

apprentices, bare-armed and with leather aprons; and these seized each

an arm of the effigy; and at that the devil, after one more fit of

laughter, holding his sides, and shouting aloud as if in glee, leapt

down behind the platform, dragging the chair after him. The four boys

stood an instant as if in terror, and then followed him, with clumsy

gestures of horror.

The three figures that remained now began to wrestle together, stamping

to and fro, up to the very edge, then reeling back again, and so on--the

two apprentices against the great red dummy. At that the shouting of the

crowd grew louder and louder, and the torches tossed up and down: it was

like hell itself, for noise and terror, there in the red flare of the

bonfire: and, at the last, all roaring together, with the trumpets and

drums sounding, and the fifes too, the effigy was got to the edge of the

platform, where it yet swayed for an instant or two, and then toppled

down into the fire beneath.

* * * * *

It was a great spectacle, I cannot but confess it, and admirably

designed; and I took my leave of Mr. Martin and his lady, and went home

to supper through the crowded streets, more in tune, perhaps, with my

country's state than I had been when I lolled last night in Mr.

Chiffinch's closet.

CHAPTER II

With Dangerfield's demonstration in my mind I was not greatly inclined

to embroil myself in other matters; and I kept my intention to ride down

to Hare Street three days after, when I had done my business in London

and kissed the King's hand; and this I had done by the evening of the

second day. I saw His Majesty on that second day; but he was much

pressed for time, and he did no more than thank me for what I had done:

and so was gone. On that evening, however, a new little adventure befell

me.

The taverns in town were rare places for making new acquaintances; and

since I, for the most part, dined and supped in them, I met a good

number of gentlemen. From these I would conceal, usually, most of my

circumstances, and sometimes even my name, though that would not have

told them much. Above all I was very careful to conceal my dealings with

His Majesty, and as, following the directions he had first given me, I

presented myself seldom or never at Court, and did my business through

Mr. Chiffinch, and in his lodgings, usually, I do not suppose that there

were five men in town, if so many, who knew that I had any private

knowledge of him at all. In this manner then, I heard a deal of

treasonable talk of which I did not think much, and only reported

generally to Mr. Chiffinch when he asked me what was the feeling in town

with regard to Court affairs. It was through this, and helped, I

daresay, by what I have been told was the easy pleasantness which I

affected in company, that I stumbled over my next adventure; and one

that was like, before the end of it, to have cost me dear.

I went to supper, by chance, on the second day after my coming to

London, to an inn I had never been to before--the _Red Bull_ in

Cheapside--a very large inn, in those days, with a great garden at the

back, where gentlemen would dine in summer, and a great parlour running

out into it from the back of the house, of but one story high. The

rooms beneath seemed pretty full, for it was a cold night; and as there

appeared no one to attend to me I went upstairs, and knocked on the door

of one of the rooms. The talking within ceased as I knocked, and none

answered; so I opened the door and put my head in. There was a number of

persons seated round the table who all looked at me.

"This is a private room, sir," said one of them at the head.

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," I said. "I was but looking for someone

to serve me." And I was about to withdraw when a voice hailed me aloud.

"Why it is Mr. Mallock!" the voice cried; and turning again to see who

it was I beheld my old friend Mr. Rumbald, seated next the one that

presided.

I greeted him.

"But I had best be gone," I said. "It is a private room, the gentleman

told me."

"No, no," cried the maltster. "Come in, Mr. Mallock." And he said

something to the gentleman he sat by, who was dressed very finely.

I could see that something was in the wind; and as I was out for

adventure, it seemed to me that here was one ready-made, however

harmless it might turn out in the end. So I closed the door behind me;

there was a shifting along the benches, and I stepped over into a place

next my friend.

"How goes the world with you, sir?" demanded Mr. Rumbald of me, looking

at my suit, which indeed was pretty fine.

"Very hungrily at present," I said. "Where the devil are the maids got

to?"

He called out to the man that sat nearest the door, and he got up and

bawled something down the passage.

"But it has treated me better lately," I said. "I have been in France on

my affairs." (I said this with an important air, for there is no

disguise so great as the truth, if it is put on a little awry.)

"Oho!" said Rumbald, who again, in spite of his old Presbyterianism, had

had a cup too many. And he winked on the company. I had not an idea of

what he meant by that; but I think he was but shewing off his friend as

a travelled gentleman.

"And we have been speaking of England," he went on, "and of them that

govern it, and of the Ten Commandments, in special the sixth."

I observed signs of consternation among one or two of the company when

he said this, and remembering of what political complexion Mr. Rumbald

had been on our previous meeting, I saw in general, at least, what they

had been after. But what he meant of the Sixth Commandment which is that

of killing, according to the Protestant arrangement of it, I understood

nothing.

"And of who shall govern England hereafter," I said in a low voice, but

very deliberate.

There fell a silence when I said that; and I was wondering what in God's

name I should say next, when the maid came in, and I fell to abusing of

her with an oath or two. When she was gone away again to get me my

supper, the gentleman in the fine dress at the head of the table leaned

forward a little.

"That, Mr. Mallock," he said, "is of what we were speaking. How did you

know that?"

"I know my friend Mr. Rumbald," I said.

This appeared to give the greatest pleasure to the maltster. He laughed

aloud, and beat me on the back; but his eyes were fierce for all his

merriment. I felt that this would be no easy enemy to have.

"Mr. Mallock knows me," he said, "and I know Mr. Mallock. I assure you,

gentlemen, you can speak freely before Mr. Mallock." And he poured a

quantity of his college-ale into a tankard that stood before me.

It appeared, however, that several of the company had sudden affairs

elsewhere; and, before we even smelled of treason, three or four of them

made their excuses and went away. This confirmed me in my thought that I

was stumbled upon one of those little gatherings of malcontents, of whom

the town was full, who talked largely over their cups of the Protestant

succession and the like, but did very little. But I was not quite right

in my surmise, as will appear presently.

By the time that my supper came up--(I cursed the maid again for her

delay, though, poor wench, she was near run off her legs)--there were

left but four of us in the room; the gentleman at the head of the table,

a lean quiet man with a cast in his eye who sat opposite me, Mr. Rumbald

and myself.

There was, however, a shade of caution yet left in my friend that the

ale had not yet driven out; and before proceeding any further, he

observed again that my fortunes had improved.

"Why, they have improved a great deal," I said--for he had caught me

with my silver-hilted sword and my lace, and I saw him looking at

them--"I live in Covent Garden now, where you must come and see me, Mr.

Rumbald."

"And your politics with them?" he asked.

"My politics are what they ever were," I said; and that was true enough.

"You were at Temple Bar?" he asked.

"Why I only came from France the day before; but you may depend upon it

I was there. It warmed my heart."

"You know who was behind it all?" asked the gentleman at the head of the

table, suddenly.

I knew well enough that such men as these despise ignorance above all

things, and that a shrewd fellow--or a man that they think to be one is

worth a thousand simpletons in their eyes; so I made no pretence of not

knowing what he meant.

"Why of course I do!" I said contemptuously. "It was my Lord

Shaftesbury."

Now the truth of this was not known to everyone in London at this time,

though it was known a little while later: and I should not have known it

myself if Mr. Chiffinch had not told me. But these men knew it, it

seemed, well enough; and my knowledge of it blew me sky-high in their

view.

"My Lord Shaftesbury, God bless him!" said the lean squinting man,

suddenly; and drained his mug.

"God bless him!" I said too, and put my lips to mine. My hand was

immediately grasped by Mr. Rumbald; and so cordial relations were

confirmed.

* * * * *

Well; we settled down then to talk treason. I must not deny that these

persons skewed still some glimmerings of sense; they did not, that is to

say, as yet commit themselves irrevocably to my mercy: they appeared to

me to talk generally, with a view to trying me: but I acquitted myself

to their satisfaction.

We deposed Charles, we excluded James, we legitimized Monmouth; we armed

the loyal citizens and took away the arms of all others. We appointed

even days of humiliation and thanksgiving; and we grew more enthusiastic

and reckless with every mug. The lean man confided to me with infinite

pride, that he had been one of the cardinals in the procession to Temple

Bar; and I grasped his hand in tearful congratulation. We were near

weeping with loyalty at the end, not to Charles but to Monmouth. The

only man who preserved his self-control completely was the gentleman at

the head of the table, though he too adventured a good deal, throwing it

before me as a bait before a trout; and each time I gulped it down and

asked for more. He was a finely featured man, with a nose set well out

in his face, and had altogether the look and bearing of a gentleman.

It must have been full half-past nine before we broke up; and that was

at the going of our president. We too rose and saw him to the door; and

the lean man said he would see him downstairs, so Mr. Rumbald and I were

left, he swaying a little and smiling, holding on to the door-post, and

I endeavouring to preserve my dignity.

I was about to say good-night too and begone, when he plucked me

suddenly by the sleeve.

"Come back again, Mr. Mallock," he said. "I have something to say to

you."

We went back again, shutting the door behind us, and sat down. It was a

pleasant little parlour this, decently furnished, and I feigned to be

looking at the hanging that was over the press where they kept the

tankards, as if I had no curiosity in the world.

"Here, Mr. Mallock," said my friend's voice behind me. "Look at this."

He had drawn out a little black pocket-book, leather-bound, and with it

three or four loose papers. I sat down by him, and took it from him.

"It is some kind of an account-book," I said.

"You are right, sir," said Mr. Rumbald.

He sat with an air of vast importance, while I examined the book. It had

a great number of entries, concerning such things as accounts for beer

and other refreshments, with others which I could not understand. There

were also the names of inns in London, with marks opposite to them, and

times of day written down besides. I could make nothing of all this; so

I turned to the papers. Here, to my astonishment, on one of them was

written a list of names, some very well known, beginning with my Lord

Shaftesbury's, and on the two others a number of notes in short-hand,

with three or four of the same names as before written long-hand. One of

these slipped to the floor as I held them, and I stooped to pick it up;

when I raised my head again, the pocket-book and the other two papers

had disappeared again into Mr. Rumbald's possession. He did not seem to

have seen the one that fell, so I held it on my knee beneath the table,

thinking to examine it later.

"Well?" I asked. "What is the matter?"

The maltster had an air of great mystery upon his face. He regarded me

sternly, though his eyes watered a little.

"Enough to hang us all," he said; and I saw the fierce light in his eyes

again, through the veil of drink.

"Why; how is that?" asked I, slipping the paper I held, behind me, and

into the skirt pocket of my coat.

"Those accounts," he said, "they are all for the procession; for I

provided myself a good deal of the refreshment; and was paid for it by

a man of my Lord's, who has signed the book."

"And the two papers?" I asked.

"Ah!" said Mr. Rumbald. "That is another matter altogether."

I feigned that I was incurious.

"Well," I said, "every man to his own trade. I would not meddle with

another's, for the world."

"That is best," said my friend.

I tried a sentence or two more; but caution seemed to have returned to

him, though a little late; and I presently saw I should get no more out

of him. I congratulated him again on the pleasant evening we had spent;

and five minutes later we went downstairs together, very friendly; and

he winked upon me as I went out, after paying my account, as if there

were some secret understanding between us.

* * * * *

I had a cold walk back to Covent Garden, remembering with satisfaction,

as I went, that I had not told Mr. Rumbald more particularly where I

lodged; and thinking over what I had heard. It was not a great deal

after all, I thought. When all was said, I had only heard over again

what was known well enough at Court, that my Lord Shaftesbury was behind

this demonstration, and had his finger in the whole affair of Monmouth;

I had but stumbled upon one of those companies, who were known, well

enough, to be everywhere, who were for Monmouth against His Royal

Highness: and I had but seen, what surely might be guessed to

exist,--the accounts of the refreshments supplied to the actors in the

demonstration--and had been told that my Lord's man had paid the score.

There might, indeed, be more behind; but of that I had no evidence at

all; I had received no confidence that could be of any value: and as for

the paper in my skirt-pocket, I valued it no more than a rush; and

wondered I had taken the trouble to secure it.

When I reached my lodgings, I took it out and looked at it again. I had

not even the means of reading it. The name of my Lord Shaftesbury, as I

have said, was written in long-hand three or four times; and the Duke

of Monmouth's twice. There also appeared other names of which I did not

know a great deal, and one at least of which I knew nothing, which was

"College"; though this for all I knew was for a college in an

University. Other names were that of my Lord Essex and John Hampden, and

Algernon Sidney. The paper was about a foot in length and six inches

across; and I thought so little of it--thinking that a paper of

importance would scarcely be entrusted to a man like Rumbald, who threw

them about a tavern--that I was very near throwing it into the fire. But

I kept it--though God knows that afterwards I wished I had not done

so--and slipped it into my pocket-book where I kept three or four

others, intending, when I had an opportunity, to give it to some clerk,

learned in short-hand, to read for me.

And so I went to bed.

CHAPTER III

It was with a very happy heart that the next night, about seven o'clock,

I rode down Hare Street village, and saw the lights of the house shining

through the limes.

It was a very different coming back from my going. Then we four had

stood together in the dark at the corner of the lane, fearing lest a

window should be thrown up. Now I rode back with James, secure and

content, fearing nothing: for Mr. Chiffinch had told me that all peril

had passed from Dangerfield, even had he met me and known me, which was

not likely. They were after other game now than the old conspirators.

I had sent a message to Hare Street on the day after I was come to

London, that I would be with them on this day: and so soon as I rode

into the yard the men ran out, and I heard a window open in the house;

so that by the time I came to the door it was open, and my cousins there

to meet me.

* * * * *

It was very strange, that evening there, to be so with my Cousin Dolly;

for each of us knew, and that the other knew that too, that matters were

advanced with us, since we had been through peril together. It was

strange how diffident we both were, and how we could not meet one

another's eyes; and yet I was aware that she would have it otherwise if

she could, and strove to be natural. We had music again that night, and

Dolly and her maid sang the setting of "Go, perjured man" which she had

made from Mr. Wise's. For myself, I sat in a corner by the fire and

watched her. She was in grey that night, with lace, and a string of

little fresh-water pearls.

When she was gone to bed, my Cousin Tom and I had a crack together; and

he seemed to me more sensible than I had thought him at first. We talked

of a great number of things; and he asked me about France and my life

there; and I had a great ado from being indiscreet and telling him too

much. I represented to him that I was gone over to be out of the way of

Dangerfield, as indeed I had; but I said nothing at all to him as to my

business there: and he seemed content.

He told me also of what he had written to me as to the return of Mr.

Harris, very tired and angry, the next afternoon after his search of the

house. He had ridden near all the way to Newmarket, inquiring for me

everywhere: and had come to the conclusion at last that I had not gone

that way after all.

"He was very high with me," said my Cousin Tom, "but I was higher yet. I

told him that it was not my business both to make conspirators and to

arrest them; and since he had done me the honour of thinking I had done

the first, I had done him the honour of thinking that he could do the

second: but that it seemed I was wrong in that."

This seemed a considerable effort of wit for my Cousin Tom; but scarcely

one calculated to soothe Mr. Harris.

Finally, when I was thinking of bed my Cousin Tom opened out once again

on an old matter that was before my mind continually now: and he spoke,

I think, very sensibly.

"Cousin Roger," he said: "there is one other affair I must speak to you

of, now that you are come again to Hare Street and seem likely to remain

here for a while; and that is of my daughter. I know you would not have

me say too much; and I will not. But have you considered the advice you

said you would give me a great while ago?"

I did not answer him for a moment; for I was not sure if he were very

wise or very foolish in opening upon it again. Then I determined to be

open with the man.

"Cousin Tom," I said, "I am both glad and sorry that you have spoken of

this; and I will tell you the whole truth, which I think perhaps you may

have guessed. The reason why I could not give you advice before was that

I was not sure of my own mind. Well; I am sure of it now; and I wish to

ask my Cousin Dolly, so soon as I see an opportunity to do so, if she

will marry me. But I must say this--that I am going to take no risks. I

shall not ask her so long as I think she will refuse me; and I think, to

tell the truth, that she would not have me if I asked her now."

My Cousin Tom began to speak: but I prevented him.

"One moment," I said, "and you shall say what you will. There is one

reason that comes to my mind which perhaps may explain her

unwillingness; and that is that she may think that she is being thrown

at my head. You have been very kind, Cousin, in allowing me to make this

my home in the country; and I know"--(here I lied vehemently)--"I know

that nothing was further from your thoughts than this. Yet it may seem

so, to a foolish maid who knows nothing of the world. I do not know if

you have ever said anything to her--"

"Why, Cousin--" cried Tom, in such a manner that I knew he was lying

too--"what do you think--"

"Just so," I said; for I did not wish him to lie more than he need; "I

was sure--"

"I may have said a word or two, once or twice," pursued Cousin Tom,

intent on his own exposure--"that she must think soon about getting

married, and so forth. But to say that I have thrown her at your head,

Cousin, is not, I think, a kindly thing--"

"My dear man!" cried I. "I have been saying expressly that I knew you

had done nothing of the sort; but that perhaps Dolly thought so." (This

quieted him a little, for I watched his face.) "So the best way, I

think, is for us all to be quiet for a little and say nothing. You know

now what my own wishes are; and that is enough for you and me. As to

estates, I will make a settlement, if ever the marriage is arranged,

that will satisfy you; but I think we need not trouble about that at

present. I will do my utmost to push my suit; but it must be in my own

way; and that way will be to say nothing at all for a while, but to

establish easy relations with her. She is a little perturbed at present:

I saw that, for I watched her to-night; and unless she can grow quiet

again, all will come to nothing."

So I spoke, in the folly of my own wisdom that seemed to me so great at

that time. I had dealt with men, but not at all with women, and knew

nothing of them. If I had but followed my heart and spoken to her at

once, while the warmth of my welcome, and the memory of the peril we had

undergone together were still in heart, matters might have been very

different. But I thought otherwise, and that I would be very prudent and

circumspect, knowing nothing at all of a maid's heart and her ways. As

for Cousin Tom, he had to yield to me; for what else could he do? The

prospect that I opened before him was a better one than he could get

anywhere else: he had no opening at Court, in spite of his bragging; and

the Protestants round about were too wise, in their rustic way, to

engage themselves with a Papist at such a time. So there the matter

remained.

* * * * *

When I came to my chamber, it had a very pleasant aspect to me. The

curtains were across the windows; a great fire blazed on the hearth--(I

had heard my Cousin Dolly's footsteps pass across the landing, before

she went to bed,--no doubt to put more wood on)--my bed was ready, and

on the round table in the middle was a jug of horn-beam branches with

some winter flowers. It was six months since I had been here; and

matters were considerably better with me now than they had been then.

Then I was being hunted; now I was free from all anxiety on that score:

then I had been going up to London to resign what little position I had;

now I was re-established, owing to what I had done in France, on a

better footing than ever. More than all, I knew now, without any doubt

at all, what my heart told me of my Cousin Dolly; and I was here, with

every liberty to commend my suit to her.

Before I went to bed I opened the little secret cupboard by my bed, and

put into it three or four private papers I had, and amongst them that

written in cipher that I had had from Mr. Rumbald. Then I went to bed;

and dreamed of Dolly.

Then began for me a time of great peace and serenity.

First came Christmas, with its homely joys, and Twelfth night on which

we cut and ate a great cake that Dolly had made; then there was the

winter's work to be done in preparation for the spring; and then spring

itself, with the crocuses sprouting between the joints of the paved walk

round the house; and the daffodils in the long box-bed beneath the

limes. I write these little things down, for it was principally by these

things that I remember those months; and the noise of the world outside

seemed as sounds heard in a dream. I went up to London, now and

again--but not very often; and saw His Majesty in private twice, and he

honoured me by asking my advice again on certain French affairs; but,

for the time, all these things were secondary in my mind to the cows of

Hare Street and to how the pigs did. It is marvellous how men's minds

can come down to such matters, and become absorbed in them, and let the

rest of the world go hang. I thought now and again of my mission from

Rome; yet I do not think I was faithless to it; for there was nothing at

that time which I could do for the King; and he expressly had desired me

not to mix much with the Court and so become known. The truth of the

matter was that at this time he was largely occupied with a certain

woman, whose name had best not be spoken; and when His Majesty ran upon

those lines, he could think of little else. I sent my reports regularly

to Rome; and the Cardinal Secretary seemed satisfied; and so therefore

was I.

It was, with my Cousin Dolly, precisely as I had thought. She was at

first very shy indeed, going up to her chamber early in the evening, so

that we had little or no music; but relaxing a little as I shewed myself

friendly without being forward. I caught her eyes on me sometimes; and

she seemed to be appraising me, I thought in my stupidity, as to whether

she could trust me not to make love to her; but now, as I think, for a

very different reason; and I would see her sometimes as I went out of

doors, peeping at me for an instant out of a window. It was not,

however, all hide and seek. We would talk frankly and easily enough at

times, and spend an hour or two together, or when her father was asleep,

with the greatest friendliness; and meanwhile I, poor fool, was thinking

how wise and prudent I was; and what mighty progress I was making by

these crooked ways.

In Easter week we had a great happiness--so great that it near broke me

down in my resolution--and I would to God it had--(at least in certain

moods I wish so).

I was returning along the Barkway road from a meadow where I had been to

look to the new lambs, in my working dress, when I heard a horse coming

behind me. I stepped aside to let him go by, when I heard myself called.

"My man," said the voice. "Can you tell me where is Mr. Jermyn's house?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "I am going there myself."

He was a grave-looking gentleman, very dark; and as I looked at him I

remembered him; but I could see he did not remember me, and no wonder,

for he had only seen me once, on a very agitating occasion, for a short

while. He was riding a very good horse, which was going lame, but

without any servant, and he had his valise strapped on the crupper. In

appearance he was a country-squire on his way to town. I determined to

give him a surprise as we went along.

"I hope you are well, Mr. Hamerton," I said.

He gave a great start at that, and looked at me closely.

"I do not remember you," he said. "And why do you call me Mr. Hamerton?"

"I knew that is not the name you were usually known by, father. Would

you be easier if I called you Mr. Young?"

"I give it up," he said. "Who are you, sir?"

"Do you remember a young man," I said, "a year and a half ago, who came

into Mr. Chiffinch's inner parlour on a certain occasion? You were

sitting near His Royal Highness; His Majesty was at the end of the

table; and by you was Father Bedingfeld who died in prison in December."

He smiled at me.

"I remember everything except the young man," he said. "So you are he.

And what is your name, sir?"

I told him.

"I am Mr. Jermyn's cousin," I said. "And I have been looking after his

lambs for him. I would there was some spiritual shepherd who would look

after us. We have not heard mass since Christmas." (For we had ridden

over to Standon on that day.)

He seemed altogether easier at that.

"Why, that can be remedied to-morrow," he said. "If you have an altar

stone and linen and vestments. I have all else with me."

We had these, and I told him so.

"Then you mean to lie at Hare Street to-night, sir?" I said.

"I had hoped to do so," he said. "I am come from Lincolnshire; and I was

recommended to Mr. Jermyn's if I could not get so far as Standon; and I

cannot, for my horse is lame."

* * * * *

My Cousin Tom received the priest in a surprising medley of emotions

which he exhibited one by one to me who knew him so well. He was at

first plainly terrified at receiving a priest and a Jesuit; but,

presently recovered himself a little and strove to remember that here

was one of God's priests who would bring a blessing on the house--(and

said so); finally all else was swallowed up in pleasure, or very nearly,

when I took occasion on Mr. Hamerton's going upstairs to pull off his

boots, to tell him that I had seen this priest very intimate with His

Royal Highness the Duke of York; and that he had been a near friend of

Mr. Bedingfeld, the Duke's confessor.

My Cousin Dorothy received him with the reverence that pious maids can

shew so easily towards a priest. She had his chamber ready for him in

ten minutes; with fresh water in the basin and flowers upon the table:

she even set out for his entertainment three or four books of devotion

by his bedside. And all the time at supper she never ceased to give him

attention, drawing the men's eyes to his plate and cup continually.

Mr. Hamerton was a very quiet gentleman, wonderfully at his ease at

once, and never losing his discretion; he talked generally and

pleasantly at supper, of his road to Hare Street, and told us an

edifying story or two of Catholics at whose houses he had lain on his

way from Lincolnshire. These Jesuits are wonderful folk: he seemed to

know the country all over, and where were the safer districts and where

the dangerous. I have no doubt he could have given me an excellent

road-map with instructions that would take me safe from London to

Edinburgh, if I had wished it.

"And have you never been troubled with highwaymen?" asked my Cousin Tom.

"No, Mr. Jermyn," said the priest, "except once, and that was a Catholic

robber. I thought he was by the start he gave when he saw my crucifix as

he was searching me; and taxed him with it. So the end was, he returned

me my valuables, and took a little sermon from my lips instead."

* * * * *

When supper was over, and Dorothy had gone upstairs to make all ready

for mass on the next morning, Mr. Hamerton, at our questioning, began to

tell us a little of the state of politics and what he thought would

happen; and every word that he said came true.

"His Grace of Monmouth will be our trouble," he said. "The King adores

him; and he hath so far prevailed with His Majesty as to get the Duke of

York sent twice to Scotland. I think few folk understand what feeling

there is in the country for the Protestant Duke. It was through my Lord

Shaftesbury, who is behind him, that His Royal Highness was actually

sent away, for Monmouth could do nothing without him; and I have no kind

of doubt that he has further schemes in his mind too."

(This was all fulfilled a couple of months later, as I remembered when

the time came, by my Lord Shaftesbury's actually presenting James' name

as that of a recusant, before the grand jury of Middlesex; but the

judges dismissed the jury immediately.)

"And you think, father," asked my Cousin Tom very solemnly, "that these

seditions will lead to trouble?"

"I have no doubt of it at all," said he. "The country--especially

London--is full of disaffection. Their demonstration last year did a

deal to stir it up. The Duke of York is back now, against my advice; but

I have no doubt he will have to go on his travels again. Were His

majesty to die now--_(quod Deus avertat!)_--I do not know how we should

stand."

* * * * *

Mr. Hamerton took occasion to ask me that night, when we were alone for

a minute or two, what I was doing in the country.

"I remember you perfectly now," said he. "Father Whitbread spoke to me

of you, besides."

I told him that I had nothing to do in town; and with His Majesty's

consent was lying hid for a little, in order that what little was known

of me might be forgotten again.

"Well; I suppose you are wise," he said, "and that you will be able to

do more hereafter. But the time will come presently when we shall all be

needed."

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he could read cipher, and

to shew him my paper--reminded of it, by his talk of disaffection; but

my Cousin Tom came back at that moment; and I put it off; and I

presently forgot it again.

* * * * *

The memory of the mass that we heard next morning will never leave me;

for it was the first time that I had heard it in the house.

We used the long attic, for fear of disturbance, and had a man posted

beneath--for it was still death for a priest to say mass in England. All

the servants that were Catholics were there; and all, I think, went to

the sacraments. Mr. Hamerton heard confessions before the mass began.

The north end of the attic had been prepared by Dolly and her maid; and

looked very pretty and fine. A couple of men had carried up a great low

press, that had the instruments of the Passion painted upon its panels;

and this served for an altar. Behind it Dolly had put up a hanging from

downstairs, that was of Abraham offering Isaac, and had set upon the

altar a pair of silver candlesticks from the parlour, and a little

standing crucifix, with jugs of country flowers between the candlesticks

and the cross. She had laid too, as a foot-pace, a Turkey rug that came

too from the parlour; and had put a little table to serve as a credence.

Mr. Hamerton had with him little altar-vessels made for travelling, with

a cup that unscrewed from the stem, and every other necessary except

what he asked us to provide.

* * * * *

It is the experience of everyone, I think, that mass differs from mass,

as a star (in the apostle's words) differs from another star in glory--I

do not mean in its essential effects, for that is the same always, but

in the devotion which it arouses in those that hear it. This mass then

seemed to me like scarcely any other that I had ever heard, except

perhaps that at which I received my first communion in the country

church in France. Mr. Hamerton said it with great deliberation and

recollection; and, as my Cousin Tom served him, as a host should, I was

not distracted by anything. My Cousin Dolly and I kneeled side by side

in front, and again, side by side, to receive Holy Communion.

I was in a kind of ecstasy of delight, and not, I think unworthily; for,

though much of my delight came from being there with my cousin, and

receiving our Lord's Body with her, I do not think that is any dishonour

to God whom we must love first of all, to find a great joy in loving Him

in the company of those we love purely and uprightly. So at least it

seems to me.

* * * * *

Mr. Hamerton told us he must be riding very early; and not much after

seven o'clock we stood at the gate to bid him farewell. I made my man

James go with him so far as Ware to set him on his road, though the

priest begged me not to trouble myself.

When I came back to the house I was in a torment of indecision as to

whether this would not be the best occasion I could ever find of telling

my Cousin Dorothy all that was in my heart in her regard; and I even

went into the Great Chamber after her, still undecided. But her manner

prevented me; for I thought I saw in her something of a return of that

same shyness which she had shewed to me when I had come last time back

to Hare Street; and I went out again without saying one word except of

the priest's visit and of what a good man he seemed.

Even then, I think, if I had spoken, matters might have taken a very

different course; but, whether through God's appointment or my own

diffidence, this was not to be; and again I said nothing to her.

CHAPTER IV

Our next adventure, not unlike the last exteriorly, was very different

from it interiorly; and led to very strange results in the event. It

came about in this way.

It was in May that Mr. Hamerton had come to us, for Easter that year

fell in that month; and the weather after that, which had been very

bitter in the winter, with so much snow as I never saw before, but

clearer about Eastertime, fell very wet and stormy again in June.

It was on a Thursday evening, in the first week in June, that the bad

weather set in with a violent storm of rain and a high wind. We sat in

the Great Chamber after supper, and had some music as usual: and between

the music we listened to the gusts of wind and the rattle of the rain,

which made so great a noise that Dolly said that it was no use for her

to go to bed yet, for that she would not sleep if she went. Her maid

went to bed; and we three sat talking till nearly half-past ten o'clock,

which is very late for the country where men rise at four o'clock.

The wind made such a noise that we heard nothing of the approach to the

house; and the first that we knew of anyone's coming was a hammering at

the door.

"Why, who is that;" said I, "that comes so late?"

I could see that my Cousin Tom did not like it, for his face shewed

it--(I suppose it was the memory of that other time when the hammering

came)--so I said nothing, but went myself to the outer door and unbolted

it.

A fellow stood there in a great riding-cloak; but I could see he wore

some kind of a livery beneath.

"Well," I said, "what do you want?"

He saw that I was a gentleman by my dress; and he answered me very

civilly.

"My master is benighted, sir," said he; "and he bid me come and ask

whether he might lie here to-night. There is no inn in the place."

"Why, who is your master?" I asked.

He did not seem to hear my question, for he went on immediately.

"There are only five of the party, sir," he said. "Two gentlemen and

three servants."

I saw that my Cousin Tom was behind me now; and that Dolly was looking

from the door of the Great Chamber.

"You have not yet told us," I said, "what your master's name is."

"I think, sir, he had best answer that," said the fellow.

Now this might very well be a Catholic, and perhaps an important person

who had heard of Mr. Jermyn, but did not wish to advertise who himself

was. I looked at my Cousin Tom; and thought from his look that the same

thought had come to him.

"Well, Cousin?" I said.

"They had best come in--" he said shortly. "Dolly, rouse some of the

servants. They will want supper, I suppose."

He nodded to the man, who went back immediately; and a minute later two

gentlemen came up the flagged path, also in great cloaks that appeared

soaked with the rain.

"By God, sir!" said the first of them, "we are grateful to you. This is

a wild night."

My Cousin, Tom said something civil, and when the door was shut, helped

this man off with his cloak, while I helped the other. The former was

explaining all the while how they were on their way to town from

Newmarket; and how they had become bogged a little after Barkway, losing

their road in the darkness. They had intended to push on to Waltham

Cross, he said, or Ware at the least, and lie there. He spoke with a

merry easy air that shewed him for a well-bred and pleasant fellow. My

own man said nothing, but left it all to the other.

When I turned to see the one who spoke, I was more surprised than ever

in all my life before; for it was no other than the Duke of Monmouth

himself. He looked a shade older than when I had last seen him in the

park above a year ago; but he was the very same and I could not mistake

him. As for me, he would not know me from Adam, for he had never spoken

with me in all his life. I did not know what to do, as to whether I

should make to recognize him or not; but he saved me the trouble; for as

I followed the others into the Great Chamber, he was already speaking.

"It is very good of you, Mr. Jermyn," he said, "to receive us like this.

My name is Morton, and my friend's here Mr. Atkins. You can put us where

you will--on the floor if you have no other place."

"We can do better than that, sir," said Tom. "There is only my daughter

here and Mr. Mallock my cousin. My daughter is gone to call the

servants."

The Duke looked very handsome and princely as he stood on the hearth,

although there was no fire, and surveyed the room. He was in a dark blue

riding-suit, darker than it should be upon the shoulders with the rain

that had soaked through his cloak; but it was of the colour of his eyes

that were very fine and attractive; and he wore his own hair. The other

man looked pretty mean beside him; and yet he was not ill-looking. He

was a fair man, too, with a rosy face; in a buff suit.

"We can manage two changes of clothes, Mr. Morton," went on my Cousin

Tom, "if you fear to take a cold; or you can sup immediately; as you

will."

"Why, Mr. Jermyn; I think we will sup first and go to bed afterwards.

The clothes can be dried, no doubt, before morning."

In spite of all his efforts, he spoke as one born to command and with a

kind of easy condescension too; and certainly this had its effect upon

poor Tom; for he was all eagerness and welcome, who just now had been a

shade surly. He was beginning to say that it was for his guests to

choose, when my Cousin Dolly came in suddenly through the open door.

"Why here is my little maid, gentlemen--" he said; and Dolly did her

reverence.

Now I had in my mind no thought of jealousy at all; and yet when I saw

how the Duke bowed to my cousin, I am bound to say that a touch of it

pierced me like a dart--there and gone again, I thought. But it had been

there. I thought how few gentlemen poor Dolly saw down here in Hare

Street: beyond the parson--and he was a man who would go out before the

pudding in a great house, and marry the lady's maid--there was scarce

one who might write Esquire after his name; and the breeding of most of

the squires was mostly rustical. As for her, she did her reverence very

prettily, without a trace of the country in it; and, strange to say, her

manner seemed to change. I mean by that, that she seemed wholly at her

ease in this new kind of company, fully as much as with her maids.

"You have had a very wet ride, sir," she said, without any sign of

confusion or shyness; "the maids are kindling a fire in the kitchen, to

dry your clothes before morning: and your men shall have beds in the

attic."

The Duke made a pretty answer, which she took as prettily.

"And a cold supper shall be in immediately," she said.

Then my Cousin Tom must needs begin upon the maid, as if she were a

child, or idiotic; and say what a good housekeeper his little maid was

to him, and how she could do so many things; and the Duke took it all

with courtesy, yet did not encourage it, as if he understood her ways

better than her father did--which was, very likely, true enough.

"And you come up to London, mistress," he said, "no doubt," with a look

at her dress that was not at all insolent, and yet very plain. And it

was indeed a pretty good one; and I remember it very well. It was cut

like a French sac--a fashion that had first come in about ten years

before, and still lasted; and was a little lower at the throat than many

that she wore. It was of a brownish kind of yellow, of which I do not

know the name, and had white lace to it, and silver lace on the bodice.

She was sunburnt again, but not too much, as I had first seen her; and

her blue eyes looked very bright in her face; and she wore a ring on

either hand, as she usually did in the evening, and had her little

pearls round her neck. It was strange to me how I observed all this, so

soon as the Duke had drawn attention to it; whereas I had not observed

it particularly before.

Wen we went into supper it was the same with the Duke and her. He

behaved to her with the greatest deference, yet not at all exaggerated

so as to be in the least insolent. He treated her, it appeared to me, as

he would have treated one of his own ladies, though there had been every

excuse, especially with Cousin Tom's way of speaking to her, and the

deep country we were in, if he had not noticed her at all. Mr. Atkins,

as he called himself, followed suit; but said very little. Once, when

the dishes had to be taken away, and Dolly rose to do it--before I could

move--(my Cousin Tom, of course, sat there like a dummy)--I observed the

Duke make a little movement with his eyes towards Mr. Atkins, who

immediately rose up and did it for her.

The effect of all this upon me was to make me do my best in talk; but it

was not very easy without betraying that I knew more of the Court than

might be supposed; but the Duke outdid me every time. He listened with

the greatest courtesy; and then said something a little better. I think

I have never seen a man do better; but it was always so with him. Five

years later he won the hearts of all the drapers in Taunton, in that

terrible enterprise of his, besides ranging on his side some of the

noblest blood in England. Twenty-six young maids in that town gave him a

Bible and a pair of colours worked by their hands; and twenty-six young

maids, it was said, went away after it in love with him. He did not

prove himself very much of a hero in the field; but from his manner in

company one could never have guessed at that. He had all the bearing of

a prince, and all the charm of a boy with it.

My Cousin Tom said something when supper was ending about Dolly's skill

in music; and how she and her maid sang together.

"May we not hear it for ourselves?" asked the Duke.

"But you are wet, sir," said my Cousin Tom.

The Duke smiled.

"I shall not think of that, sir," he said, "if Mistress Dorothy will

sing to us."

Well; so it was settled. The maid was in the kitchen, and was presently

fetched; and she and Dolly sang together once or twice, though it was

now after eleven o'clock. They sang Mr. Wise's "Go, perjured man," I

remember, again; and then M. Grabu's "Song upon Peace." The Duke sat

still in the great chair, shading his eyes from the candlelight, and

watching my Cousin Dolly: and once, when my Cousin Tom broke in upon the

second song with something he had just thought of to say, he put him

aside with a gesture, very royal and commanding, and yet void of

offence, until the song was done.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Jermyn," he said a moment afterwards, "but I

have never been so entranced. What was it that you wished to say?"

As Dolly came towards him he stood up.

"Mistress Dorothy," he said, "you have given us a great deal of

pleasure." And he said this with so much gravity and feeling that she

flushed. It was the first evident sign she had given that he had pleased

her.

"And I mean it," he went on, "when I say it is a pity you do not come to

town more often. Such singing as that should have a larger audience than

the two or three you have had to-night."

Dolly smiled at him.

"Thank you, sir," she said. "But I know my place better than that."

This was all a little bitter to me; for by this time a wild kind of

jealousy had risen again in me which I knew to be unreasonable, and yet

could not check. It was true that I myself took the greatest pains never

to forget my manners; but I knew very well that novelty has a

pleasantness all of its own; and the novelty of such company as this,

charged with the peculiar charm of the Duke's manner, must surely, I

thought, have its effect upon her.

"Well," said he, "I could spend all night in this chamber with such

music; but I must not keep Mistress Dorothy from her sleep another

moment."

He kissed her fingers with the greatest grace, and then bowed by the

door as she went out.

* * * * *

When we had taken them to the great guest-room that was as large, very

nearly, as the Great Chamber, and over it, and bidden them good-night,

my Cousin Tom remembered that we had forgotten to ask Mr. Morton at what

time he must ride in the morning; so I went back again to ask.

I stayed at the door for one instant after knocking, for it seemed they

had not heard me; and in that little interval I heard the Duke's voice

within, very distinct.

"A damned pretty wench," he cried. "We must--"

And at that I opened the door and went in, my jealousy suddenly flaming

up again, so that I lost my wits.

They stared at me in astonishment. The Duke already was stripped to his

shirt by one of the beds.

"I beg your pardon, Sir," I said. "But at what hour will Your Grace have

the horses?"

Mr. Atkins wheeled round full upon me; and the Duke's mouth opened a

little. Then the Duke burst into a fit of laughter.

"By God, sir!" he said. "You have detected us. How long have you known

it?"

"From the moment Your Grace took off your hat," I said.

He laughed again, highly and merrily.

"Well; no harm is done," he said. "We took other names to make matters

easier for all. You have told Mr. Jermyn?"

"No, sir," I said.

"I beg of you not to do so," he said. "It will spoil all. Nor Mistress

Dorothy. It is far easier to do without ceremony now and again."

I bowed again; but I said nothing.

"Then you may as well know," said the Duke, "that Mr. Atkins is none

other than my Lord of Essex. We have been at Newmarket together."

I bowed to my lord, and he to me.

"Well--the horses," said Monmouth. "At eight o'clock, if you please."

I said nothing to Tom, for I was very uncertain what to do; and though I

was mad with anger at what I had heard the Duke say as I waited at the

door--(though now I cannot say that there was any great harm in the

words themselves)--I still kept my wits enough to know that I was too

angry to judge fairly. I lay awake a long time that night, turning from

side to side after that I had heard the wet clothes of our guests

carried downstairs to be dried by morning before the fire. It was all a

mighty innocent matter, so far as it had gone; but I would not see that.

I told myself that a man of the Duke's quality should not come to a

little country-house under an _alias_, even if he had been bogged ten

times over; that he should not make pretty speeches to a country maid

and kiss her fingers, and hold open the door for her, even though all

these things or some of them were just what I had done myself. Frankly,

I understand now that no harm was meant; that every word the Duke had

said was true, and that it was but natural for him to try to please all

across whom he came; but I would not see it at the time.

On the next morning when I came downstairs early it seemed to me that my

Cousin Dorothy was herself downstairs too early for mere good manners.

The guests were not yet stirring; yet the maids were up, and the ale set

out in the dining-room, and the smell of hot oat-cake came from the

kitchen. There were flowers also upon the table; and my cousin was in a

pretty brown dress of hers that she did not wear very often.

I looked upon her rather harshly; and I think she observed it; for she

said nothing to me as she went about her business.

I went out into the stable-yard to see the horses; and found my Cousin

Tom there already, admiring them; and indeed they were fine, especially

a great dappled grey that was stamping under the brush of the fellow who

had first knocked at our door last night.

"That is Mr. Morton's horse, I suppose?" said Tom.

The man who was grooming him did not speak; and Tom repeated his

question.

"Yes, sir," said the man, with a queer look which I understood, though

Tom did not, "this is Mr. Morton's."

"And the chestnut is Mr. Atkins'?" asked my cousin.

"Just so, sir; Mr. Atkins'," said the man, with the corners of his mouth

twitching.

The grinning ape--as I thought him--very nearly set me off into saying

that I knew all about it; and that the yellow saddle-cloth was the

colour the Duke of Monmouth used always; but I did not. It appeared to

me then the worst of manners that these personages should come and make

a mock of country-folk, so that even the servants laughed at us.

* * * * *

Our guests were downstairs when I came in again, and talking very

merrily to my Cousin Dorothy, who was as much at her ease as last night.

The Duke sneezed once or twice.

"You have taken a cold, sir," said Dolly.

"It was in a good cause," he said; and sneezed again.

"_Salute_," said I.

He gave me a quick look, astonished, I suppose, that a rustic should

know the Italian ways.

"_Grazie_," said he, smiling. "You have been in Italy, Mr. Mallock?"

"Oh! I have been everywhere," I said, with a foolish idea of making him

respect me.

* * * * *

When they rode away at last, we all stood at the gate to watch them go.

The storm had cleared away wonderfully; and the air was fresh and

summerlike, and ten thousand jewels sparkled on the limes. They made a

very gallant cavalcade. The horses had recovered from their weariness,

for they were finely bred, all five of them; and the Duke's horse

especially was full of spirit, and curvetted a little, with pleasure and

the strength of our corn, as he went along. The servants' liveries too

were gay and pleasant to the eye:--(they were not the Duke's own

liveries; for when he went about outside town he used a plainer

sort)--and the Duke's dark blue, with his fair curls and his great hat

which he waved as he went, and my Lord Essex's spruce figure in his

buff, all made a very pretty picture as they went up the village street.

It was this, I think, and my Cousin Dolly's silence as she looked after

them, that determined me; and as we three went back again up the flagged

path to the house, and the servants round again to the yard, I spoke.

"Cousin Tom," I said. "Do you wish to know who our guests were?"

He looked at me in astonishment, and my Cousin Dolly too.

"Mr. Morton is the Duke of Monmouth," I said, "and Mr. Atkins, my Lord

Essex."

CHAPTER V

It was a long time before my Cousin Tom recovered from his astonishment

and his pleasure at having entertained such personages in his house. He

told me, of course, presently, when he had had time to think of it, that

he had guessed it all along, but had understood that His Grace wished to

be _incognito_; and I suppose at last he came to believe it. He would

fall suddenly musing in the evenings; and I would know what he was

thinking of; and it was piteously amusing to see, how one night again,

not long after, he rose and ran to the door when a drunken man knocked

upon it, and what ill words he gave him when he saw who it was. His was

a slow-moving mind; and I think he could not have formed the project,

which he afterwards carried out, while I was with him, or he must have

let it out to me.

* * * * *

It was a little piteous, too, to see with what avidity he seized upon

any news of the Duke, and how his natural inclinations and those

consonant with his religion strove with his new-found loyalty to a

bastard. A week or two later we had news of the attempt made by my Lord

Shaftesbury to injure the Duke of York's cause by presenting his name as

that of a recusant, to the Middlesex grand jury. It was a mighty bold

thing to do, and though the attempt failed so far as that the judges

dismissed the jury while they were still deliberating, it shewed how

little my Lord feared the Duke or His Majesty and how much resolved he

was to establish, if he could, the Protestant succession and the Duke of

Monmouth's pretended claim to it. A deal of nonsense, too, was talked at

this time of how the Duke was truly legitimate, and how Mistress Lucy

Walters had been secretly married to the King, before ever poor Queen

Catherine had been heard of; and the proofs of all this, it was

reported, were in a certain Black Box that no one had ever set eyes on;

and the matter became so much a thing of ridicule that once at the play,

I think, when one of the actors carried on a black box, there was a roar

of laughter and jeering from the pit.

It was wonderful to hear my Cousin Tom hold forth upon the situation.

One evening in September, two months after our adventure of the Duke's

coming, after a long silence, he made a little discourse upon it all.

"I should not be surprised," said he, "if there was more in the tale

than most men think. It is not likely that the proofs of the marriage

would be easy to come by, in such a case; for Mistress Walters, whom I

think I once saw at Tunbridge Wells, was not at all of the King's

position even by blood; and it is less likely that His Majesty, who was

but a very young man at that time, would have stood out against her when

she wished marriage. Besides there is no doubt that he knew her long

before there was any prospect of his coming to the throne. Then too

there has always appeared, to my mind at least, something in the Duke's

bearing and carriage that it would be very hard for a bastard to have.

He has a very princely air."

To such talk as this I would make no answer; but I would watch my Cousin

Dorothy's face; and think that I read there something that I did not

like--an interest that she should not feel: and, after a pause my Cousin

Tom would proceed in his conjectures.

It was on the day following this particular discourse, which I remember

very well, for my jealousy had so much worked up that I was very near

breaking my resolution and telling my Cousin Dolly all that was in my

heart, that a letter came for me from Mr. Chiffinch, so significant that

I will write down some sentences of it.

"His Majesty bids me to write to you to come up to town again for a few

days. He thinks that you may perhaps be of some use with His Royal

Highness to urge him to go back to Scotland again, which at present he

vows that he will not do. His Majesty is aware that the Duke scarcely

knows you at all; yet he tells me to say this, and that I will explain

to you when you come how you can be of service. There will be a deal of

trouble this autumn; the Parliament is to meet in October, and will be

in a very ill-humour, it is thought."

There was a little more of this sort; and then came a sentence or two

that roused my anger.

"I have heard much here of your entertainment of the Duke of Monmouth,

and of what a pretty girl your cousin is. His Majesty laughed very much

when he heard of it; and swears that he suspects you of going over to

the Protestant side after all. The Duke knows nothing of what you are,

or of anything you have done; but he has talked freely of his

entertainment at Hare Street, thinking it, I suppose, to be a Protestant

house. In public the King has had nothing to say to him; but he loves

him as much as ever, and would not, I think be very sorry, in his heart,

though he never says so, if he were to be declared legitimate."

This made me angry then, for what the letter said as to the Duke of

Monmouth's talk; and it disconcerted me too, for, if the King himself

were to join the popular party, there would be little hope of the

Catholic succession. The Duchess of Portsmouth, also, I had heard, had

lately become of that side; and I dared say it was she who had talked

His Majesty round.

Now my Cousin Tom knew that I had had this letter, for he had seen the

courier bring it; but he did not know from whom it came; and, as already

he was a little suspicious, I thought, of what I did in town, I thought

it best to tell him that it was from a friend at Court; and what it said

as to the Duke of Monmouth's talk, hoping that this perhaps might offend

him against the Duke. But it had the very opposite effect, much to my

discomfiture.

"His Grace says that, does he?" he said, smiling. "I am sure it is very

courteous of him to remember his poor entertainment"; and (Dolly coming

in at this instant) he told her too what the Duke had said.

"Hear what the Duke of Monmouth hath been saying, my dear! He says you

are a mighty pretty girl."

And Dolly, greatly to my astonishment, did not seem displeased, as soon

as she had heard the tale; for she laughed and said nothing.

* * * * *

As I rode up to London next day in answer to my summons, I was wondering

how in the world I could be of service to the Duke of York. As Mr.

Chiffinch had said, I knew next to nothing of him, nor he of me; but

when I was gone round to the page's rooms the morning after I came, he

told me something of the reasons for which I had been summoned.

"Such Jesuits as are left," he said, "and the Duke's confessor among

them, seem all of opinion that the Duke had best remain in London and

fight it out. We hear, without a doubt, that my Lord Shaftesbury, who

seems most desperate, will bring in the Exclusion Bill again this

Session; and the priests say that it is best for His Royal Highness to

be here; and to plead again for himself as he did so well two years ago.

His Majesty on the other hand is honestly of opinion--and I would sooner

trust to his foresight than to all the Jesuits in the world--that he

himself can fight better for his brother if that brother be in Scotland;

for out of sight, out of mind. And he desires you, as a Catholic, yet

not a priest, to go and talk to the Duke on that side. He hath sent half

a dozen to him already; and, since he knows that the Duke is aware of

what you have done in France, he thinks that your word may tip the

balance. For the Duke, I think, is in two minds, beneath all his

protestations."

For myself, I was of His Majesty's opinion; for the sight of the Duke

irritated folk who had not yet forgotten the Oates Plot; and I consented

very willingly to go and see him.

* * * * *

I was astonished to find that by now I had really become something of a

personage myself, amongst those few who had heard what I had done in

France; and I was received by His Royal Highness in his lodgings after

supper that evening with a very different air from that which he had

when I had last spoken with him.

The Duke was pacing up and down his closet when I came in, and turned to

me with a very friendly manner.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, when I had saluted him and was sat down, "I am

very glad to see you. His Majesty has told me all that you have done,

and has urged me to see you, as you are devoted as I know, to the

Catholic cause, and know the world too; and men's minds. Do you think I

should go or stay?"

"Sir," I said, "my opinion is that you should go. There is a quantity of

disaffection in town. I have met with a good deal of it myself. If Your

Royal Highness is to be seen continually going about, that disaffection

will be kept alive. Men are astonishingly stupid. They act, largely,

upon that which they see, not on that which they know: and by going to

Scotland you will meet them both ways. They will not see Your Highness

at all; and all that they will know of you is that you are doing the

King's work and helping the whole kingdom in Edinburgh."

"But they say I torture folks there!" said the Duke.

"They say so, Sir. They will say anything. But not a reasonable man

believes it."

(It was true, indeed, that such gossip went about; but the substance of

it was ridiculous. Good fighters do not torture; and no one denied to

the Duke the highest pitch of personal courage. He had fought with the

greatest gallantry against the Dutch.)

He said nothing to that; but sat brooding.

His closet was a very magnificent chamber; but not so magnificent as he

who sat in it. He was but just come from supper, and wore his orders on

his coat; but all his dress could not distract those who looked at him

from that kingly Stuart face that he had. He was, perhaps, the heaviest

looking of them all, with not a tithe of Monmouth's brilliant charm, or

the King's melancholy power; yet he too had the air of command and more

than a touch of that strange romance which they all had. Until that

blood is diluted down to nothing, I think that a Stuart will always find

men to love and to die for him. But it was Stuart against Stuart this

time; so who could tell with whom the victory would lie?

So I was thinking to myself, when suddenly the Duke looked up.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "I hear that you have a very persuasive manner

with both men and women. There is an exceedingly difficult commission

which I wish you would execute for me. You have spoken with the Duchess

of Portsmouth?"

"Never, Sir," I said. "I have seen Her Grace in the park only."

"Well; she has thrown her weight against me with the King. God knows

why! But I wonder you have not met her?"

"Sir, I never go to Court, by His Majesty's wish."

"Yes," he said. "But Her Grace is the King's chief agent in his French

affairs; and you are in them too, I hear. But that is His Majesty's way;

he uses each singly, and never two together if he can help it." (This

was perfectly true, and explained a good deal to me. I had heard much of

the Duchess in France, but nothing at all of her from the King.)

"Well," continued the Duke, "I wish you would see her for me, Mr.

Mallock; and try to get from her why she is so hot against me. She is a

Catholic, as you are, and she should not be so. But she is all on fire

for Monmouth and the Protestant succession; and she is all powerful with

the King."

"I shall be happy to do what I can, Sir," said I, "but I do not suppose

Her Grace will confide in me."

"I know that," he said, "but you may pick up something. You are the

fourth I have sent on that errand, and nothing come of it."

We talked a while longer on these affairs, myself more and more

astonished at the confidence given me (but I think now that it was

because the Duke had so few that he could trust); and when I took my

leave it was with a letter written and signed and sealed by the Duke,

which I was to present at Her Grace's lodgings immediately.

The Duchess, at this time, was, I think, the most powerful figure in

England; since her influence over the King was unbounded. She had come

to England ten years ago as Charles' mistress, a good and simple maid in

the beginning, as I believe, and of good Breton parents, who would not

let her go to the French Court, yet were persuaded to let her go to the

English--where, God help her! she soon ceased to be either good or

simple. In the year seventy-two she was created Duchess of Portsmouth

who up to that time had been the Breton woman Madame Kéroual (or, as she

was called in England Madam Carwell). Three years later her son had been

made Duke of Richmond. At the time of the Popish Plot she had been

terrified of her life, and it was only at the King's persuasion that she

remained in England. I cannot say that she was popular with the people,

for her coach was cried after pretty often unless she had her guards

with her; and this always threw her into paroxysms of terror. Yet she

remained in England, and was treated as of royal blood both by Charles

who loved her, and James who feared her.

A couple of days later I received a message to say that Her Grace would

receive me after supper on that same evening: so I put on my finest

suit, and set out in a hired coach.

The Duchess lived at this time in lodgings at the end of the Great

Gallery in Whitehall; and I think that of all the apartments I had ever

set eyes on--even the royal lodgings themselves--this was the finest;

and no wonder, for they had been pulled down two or three times before

she was satisfied, thus fulfilling the old proverb of Setting a Beggar

on Horseback. I was made to wait awhile in an outer chamber, all as if

she were royal; and I examined the pieces of furniture there, and there

was nothing in the Queen's own lodging to approach to them--so massy was

the plate and so great and exquisitely carved the tables and chairs.

When I was taken through at last by a fellow dressed in a livery like

the King's own, the next room, where I was bidden to sit down, was full

as fine. There was a quantity of tapestry upon the walls, of new French

fabric, so resembling paintings that I had to touch before I was sure

of them--of Versailles, and St. Germain, with hunting pieces and

landscapes and exotic fowls. There were Japan cabinets, screens and

pendule clocks, and a great quantity of plate, all of silver, as well as

were the sconces that held the candles; and the ceilings were painted

all over, as were His Majesty's own, I suppose by Verrio.

As I sat there, considering what I should say to her, I heard music

continually through one of the doors; and when at last it was flung open

and my Lady came through, she brought, as it were, a gust of music with

her.

I bowed very low, as I had been instructed, in spite of the character of

the woman, and then I kneeled to kiss her hand. Then she sat down, and

left me standing, like a servant.

She appeared at that time to be about thirty years old, though I think

she was far beyond this; but she had a wonderfully childish face, very

artfully painted and darkened by the eyes. I cannot deny, however, that

she was very handsome indeed, and well set-off by her jewels and her

silver-lace gown, cut very low so as to shew her dazzling skin. Her

fingers too, when I kissed them, were but one mass of gems. Her first

simplicity was gone, indeed.

I loathed this work that I was sent on; since it forced me to be civil

to this spoiled creature, instead of, as I should have wished, naming

her for what she was, to her face. However, that had been done pretty

often by the mob; so I doubt if I could have told her anything she did

not know already. Her voice was set very low and was a little rough; yet

it was not ugly at all. She spoke in French; and so did I.

"Well, Mr. Mallock," she said, "I have company; but I did not wish to

refuse another of His Royal Highness's ambassadors. What is the matter

now, if you please?"

Now I knew that this kind of personage loved flattery--for it was

nothing but this that had ruined her--and that it could scarcely be too

thick: so I framed my first sentences in that key: for, after all, my

first business was to please her.

"His Royal Highness is desolated, madam," I said, "because he thinks he

has displeased you."

"Displeased me!" she cried. "Why, what talk is this of a Prince to a

poor Frenchwoman?"

She smiled very unpleasantly as she said this; and nearly all the time I

was with her, her eyes were running up and down my figure. I was wearing

a good ring or two also, and my sword-hilt was very prettily set with

diamonds; and she always had an eye for such things.

"There can be no talk of Prince and subject, madam," I said, "when Her

Grace of Portsmouth is in question."

She smiled once more; and I saw that she liked this kind of talk. So I

gave her plenty of it.

"La! la!" she said. "This is very pretty talk. What is your business,

sir, if you please?"

"It is what I have said, madam; and nothing else upon my honour! His

Royal Highness is seriously discomposed."

"Then why does he not come to see me, and ask me himself?" snapped my

Lady. "He hath not been these three months back. Why does he send a--a

messenger?"

(She was on the very point of saying _servant_; and it pleased me that

she had not done so. I noted also in my mind that wounded vanity was one

of the reasons for her behaviour, as it usually is with a woman.)

"Madam," I said, "His Royal Highness does not come, I am sure, because

he does not know how he would be received. It seems that Your Grace's

favour is given to another, altogether, now."

"God bless us!" said the Duchess. "Why not say Monmouth and be done with

it?"

"It is Your Grace who has named him," I said: "but the Duke of Monmouth

is the very man."

She gave a great flirt to her fan; and I saw by her face what I had

suspected before, that it was not only with music that she was

intoxicated. Then she jerked her pretty head.

"Sit down, sir," she said; and when I had done so, pleased at the

progress I was making, she told me everything I wanted to know, though

she did not think so herself.

"See here, Mr. Mallock: You appear an intelligent kind of man. Now ask

yourself a question or two, and you will know all that I know myself.

What kind of a chance, think you, has a Catholic as King of England, as

against a Protestant; and what kind of a chance, think you, has the Duke

of York beside the Duke of Monmouth? I speak freely, because from your

having come on this errand, I suppose you are a man that can be trusted.

I wonder you have not seen it for yourself. His Royal Highness has no

tact--no _aplomb_: he sets all against him by his lordly ways. He could

not make a friend of any man, to save his life: he can never forget his

royalty. He sulks there in his lodgings, and will not even come to see a

poor Frenchwoman. And now, sir, you know all that I know myself."

The woman's ill-breeding came out very plainly when she spoke; and I

remember even then wondering that His Majesty could make so much of her.

But it is often the way that men of good breeding can never see its lack

in others, especially in women: or will not. However I concealed all

this from Her Grace, and let go more of my courtesy.

"But, madam," I said, "with all the goodwill in the world it is

Versailles to a china orange that His Royal Highness will succeed in the

event. I do not say that he will make as good a King as the Duke of

Monmouth, nor that his being a Catholic will be anything but a

disadvantage to him; but disadvantages or no, if he is King, it is

surely better to be upon his side, and help, not hinder him."

I would not have dared to say such a thing to a respectable woman; for

it advised her, almost without disguise, to look to her own advantage

only.

She gave me a sharp look.

"That is where we are not agreed," said she.

I made a little despairing gesture with my hands.

"Well, madam--if you do not accept facts--"

"Why do you think the Duke of York is so sure to succeed?" she asked

sharply; and I saw that I had touched her.

"Madam," I said, "we English are a very curious people. It is true that

we cut off His late Majesty's head; but it is also true that we welcomed

back his son with acclamation. We are not quick and logical as is your

own glorious nation; we have very much more sentimentality; and, among

those matters that we are sentimental about, is that of Royalty. I dare

wager a good deal that if government by Monarchy goes in either of our

countries, it will go in Your Grace's fatherland first. We abuse those

in high places, and we disobey them, and we talk against them; yet we

cling to them.

"And there is a second reason--" I went on rapidly; for she was at the

point of speaking--"We are a highly respectable nation, with all the

prejudices of respectability; and one of these prejudices concerns His

Grace of Monmouth's parentage"--(I saw her flare scarlet at that; but I

knew what I was doing)--"It is a foolish Pharisaic sort of prejudice, no

doubt, madam; but it is there; and I do not believe--"

She could bear no more; for her own son had precisely that bar sinister

also; and in her anger she said what I wished to hear.

"This is intolerable, sir," she flared at me, gripping the arms of her

chair. "I do not wish to hear any more about your stupid English nation.

It is because they are stupid that I do what I do. They can be led by

the nose, like your stupid king: I can do what I will--"

"Madam," I entreated, and truly my accents were piteous, "I beg of you

not to speak like that. I am a servant of His Majesty's--I cannot hear

such talk--"

I rose from my chair.

Now in that Court there was more tittle-tattle, I think, than in any

place on God's earth; and she knew that well enough; and understood that

she had said something which unless she prevented it, would go straight

to Charles' ears. It is true that she ruled him absolutely; but he

kicked under her yoke a little now and then; and if there were one thing

that he would not brook it was to be called stupid. She let go of the

arms of her chair, and went a little white. I think she had no idea

till then that I was in the King's service.

"I said nothing--" she murmured.

I stood regarding her; and I think my manner must have been good.

"I said nothing that should be repeated," she added, a little louder.

I still kept silence.

"You will not repeat it, Mr. Mallock?"

"Madam," I said, "I have only one desire: and that is to serve His

Majesty and His Majesty's lawful heir. My mouth can be sealed

absolutely, if that end is served."

I said that very slowly and deliberately.

I saw her breathe a little more freely. It was a piteous sight to see a

woman so depending upon such things as a complexion, and whiffs of

scandal, and servants' gossip.

"Mr. Mallock," she said, "I cannot veer round all in a moment, even

though I must confess that what you have said to me, has touched me very

closely."

She looked at me miserably.

"Madam," I said, for I dared not grasp at more than this, for fear of

losing all, "that has wiped out your words as if they had never been

spoken."

I kissed her hand and went out.

* * * * *

I did not go to the Duke, for I hold that, when a man has to sift

carefully between what he must say and what he must not, it is best to

do it on paper; but I went back to my lodgings and wrote to him that it

was merely for her own advantage that the Duchess had behaved so, and

because she thought that the Protestant succession was certain--her own

advantage, that is to say, mingled with a little woman's vanity. I

begged His Royal Highness therefore to go and see the Duchess, if he

thought well, and, if possible, publicly, when she held her reception,

before he went to Scotland--(for I was diplomat enough to know that the

assuming he would go to Scotland would be the best persuasion to make

him)--; and at the end I told him that I thought my arguments had

prevailed a little with Her Grace, and that though she could not at once

turn weathercock, he might take my word for it that she would not be so

forward as she had been. But I did not tell him what argument I had

chiefly used; for I hold that even to such a woman as that, a man should

keep his word.

Everything I told the Duke in that letter fell true. The Duchess began

to cool very much in the Protestant cause, though perhaps that was

helped a little by Monmouth's having fallen under the King's

displeasure: and the Duke of York went two or three times to the

Duchess' receptions; and to Scotland on the day before Parliament met.

CHAPTER VI

It was on Mr. Chiffinch's advice that I remained in London for the

present, determining however to spend Christmas at Hare Street; and

indeed I had plenty to do in making my reports to Rome on the situation.

There was a storm brewing. From all over the country came in _addresses_

to the King, as they were called, praying him to assemble Parliament,

and that, not only for defence against Popery, but against despotism as

well; and all these were nourished and inspired by my Lord Shaftesbury.

His Majesty answered this by proclaiming through the magistrates that

such addresses were contrary to the laws that left such things at the

King's discretion; and the court-party against the country-party

presently begun to send addresses beseeching His Majesty to defend that

prerogative of his fearlessly. Names began to be flung about: the

court-party called the other the party of _Whigs_, because of their whey

faces that would turn all sour; and the country-party nicknamed the

others _Tories_, which was the name of the banditti in the wilder parts

of Ireland. So it appeared that whenever Parliament should meet, there

would be, as the saying is, a pretty kettle of fish to fry.

Parliament met at last on the twenty-first of October, the Duke of York

having set out to Scotland with a fine retinue on the day before; (which

some thought too pointed); and the King himself opened it.

With all my love for His Majesty I am forced to confess that he

presented a very poor spectacle on that occasion. Not only did he

largely yield to the popular clamour, and profess himself willing,

within reason, to befriend any measures for the repression of Popery;

but he stood at the fire afterwards in the House of Lords, for a great

while, warming his back and laughing with his friends. I was in the

gallery and saw it myself. Laughter is a very good thing, but a seemly

gravity is no less good. As might be expected of curs, they barked all

the louder when there was no one to stand up to them; and within a week,

after numerous insulting proposals made to honour that horde of lying

informers that had done so much mischief already, and of preferring such

men as Dr. Tonge to high positions in the Church, once more that

Exclusion Bill of theirs came forward.

The Commons passed it, as might be expected, since my Lord Shaftesbury

had packed that House with his own nominees.

I was in Whitehall on the night that it was debated in the Lords--four

days later--and up to ten o'clock His Majesty had not returned from the

House; for he was present at that debate--a very unusual thing with him.

I went up and down for a little while outside His Majesty's lodgings;

and about half-past ten I saw Mr. Chiffinch coming.

"His Majesty is not back yet," he said; and presently he proposed that

we should go to the House ourselves.

* * * * *

From the little gallery whither he conducted me, I had a very good view

of the House, and, yet more, of one of the strangest sights ever seen

there.

Upon the carpet that was laid by the fire, for it was a cold night,

stood His Majesty himself with a circle of friends about him. Now and

again there came up to him one of the Peers for whom he had sent; he

talked to him a few minutes; and then let him go; for he was doing

nothing else than solicit each of them for his vote.

The cry was raised presently to clear the House; and we went away; for

their Lordships were to record their votes; and we had not stood half an

hour in the court outside, before there came a great cheering and

shouting; followed hard by a great booing from the crowds that stood

packed outside. My Lords had thrown out the Exclusion Bill by above

two-thirds of their number--which was ninety-three. Presently His

Majesty came out by his private way, laughing and jesting aloud with two

or three others.

It was to be expected that the country-party would make some retort to

this; and what that retort was I heard a few days later, from a couple

of gentlemen who came into the parlour at the Covent Garden tavern where

I was taking my supper. They came in very eagerly, talking together, and

when they had sat down, one of them turned to me.

"You have heard the news, sir?"

"No, sir. What news?"

"My Lord Stafford is to be tried for his life."

I did not know what political complexion these two were of; so I looked

wise and inquired how that was known.

"A clerk that is in the House of Lords told me, sir. I have always found

his information to be correct."

This was all very well for the clerk's friend, thought I; but not enough

for me; and so soon as I had finished my supper and bidden them

good-night I was off to Mr. Chiffinch.

"Why yes," he said. "It is like to be true enough. I had heard talk of

it, but no more. It is he whom they have chosen as the weakest of the

Five in the Tower; and if they can prevail against him they will proceed

against the rest, I suppose. I wonder who the informers will be."

I inquired how it was that the Peers did not resist.

"They fear for themselves and their places," said Mr. Chiffinch. "They

will yield up anything but that, if a man or two will but push them hard

enough. And, if they try my Lord, they will certainly condemn him. There

is no question of that. To acquit him would cause a yet greater uproar

than to refuse to hear the case at all."

"And His Majesty?"

Mr. Chiffinch eyed me gravely.

"His Majesty will never prefer his private feelings before the public

utility."

"And this is to the public utility?"

"Why yes; or the country-party thinks it is. It is the best answer they

can make to their rebuff on the matter of the Exclusion Bill."

The rumour proved to be perfectly true. The Five Lords who were still in

the Tower, had been sent there, it may be remembered, above two years

ago, on account of their religion, although the pretended plot professed

by Oates was of course alleged against them. Since that time Parliament

had been busy with other matters; but such an opportunity was now too

good to be lost, of striking against the court-party, and, at the same

time, of feeding the excitement and fanaticism of their own.

The trial came on pretty quickly, beginning on the last day of November;

and as I had never seen a Peer tried by his fellows, I determined to be

present, and obtained an order to admit me every day; and the first day,

strangely enough, was the birthday of my Lord Stafford himself.

* * * * *

Westminster Hall, in which the trial was held, was a very noble sight

when all the folks were in their places. (I sat myself in a high

gallery, in which sat, too, ambassadors and public ministers--at the

upper end, above the King's state.)

I could not see that which was immediately beneath me, neither of the

box in which sat His Majesty during a good deal of the trial, nor, upon

the left side where the great ladies sat. But I had a very good view of

the long forms on which the Peers sat, before the state (under which was

the throne), the wool-packs for the Judges, and the chair of the Lord

Steward--all which was ranged exactly as in the House of Lords itself.

Behind the Peers' forms rose the stands, scaffolded up to the roof, for

the House of Commons to sit in; so that the Hall resembled the shape of

a V in its section, with a long arena in the midst. The lower end held,

in the middle, the bar for the prisoner to stand at, and a place for him

to retire into: a box for his two daughters, of whom one was the

Marchioness of Winchester; and the proper places for the Lieutenant of

the Tower (whence my Lord was brought by water), the axe-bearer, who had

the edge of his axe turned away from the prisoner, and the guards that

kept him. Upon either hand of the entrance, nearer to the throne, stood,

upon one side a box for the witnesses, and upon the other, those that

were called the Managers--being lawyers and attorneys and the like; but

these were in their cloaks and swords, as were others who were with

them, of the Parliamentary party, since they were here as representing

the Commons, and not as lawyers first of all.

* * * * *

The two first days were tedious enough; and I did not stay a great

while; for the articles of impeachment were read, and formalities

discharged. One matter of interest only appeared; and that was the names

of the witnesses, when I learned for the first time that Oates and

Dugdale and Turberville were to be the principal. I think more than I

were astonished to hear that Dr. Oates was in this conspiracy too, as in

so many others; and that he would swear, when the time came, that he had

delivered to my Lord a commission from the Holy Father, to be paymaster

in the famous Catholic army of which we had heard so much.

I was much occupied too on these days in observing the appearance and

demeanour of the prisoner, whom I could see very well. He was now in his

seventieth year, and looked full his age; but he bore himself with great

dignity and restraint. He had somewhat of a cold look in his face; and

indeed it was true that he was not greatly beloved by anybody, though

respected by all.

The principal witnesses, even before Oates, were Dugdale and

Turberville. First these gave their general testimony--and afterwards

their particular. Mr. Dugdale related how that the plot, in general, had

been on hand for above fifteen or sixteen years; and he repeated all the

stuff that had so stirred up the people before, as to indulgences and

pardons promised by the Pope to those who would kill the King. I must

confess that I fell asleep once or twice during this testifying, for I

knew it all by heart already. And, in particular, he said that my Lord

had debated with others at my Lord Aston's, how to kill the King: and

that himself was present at such debates.