Chapter 2: Rupert to the Rescue.
Chapter 3: A Kiss and its Consequences.
Chapter 4: The Sedan Chair.
Chapter 5: The Fencing School.
Chapter 6: The War Of Succession.
Chapter 7: Venloo.
Chapter 8: The Old Mill.
Chapter 9: The Duel.
Chapter 10: The Battle Of The Dykes.
Chapter 11: A Death Trap.
Chapter 12: The Sad Side Of War.
Chapter 13: Blenheim.
Chapter 14: The Riot at Dort.
Chapter 15: The End of a Feud.
Chapter 16: Ramilies.
Chapter 17: A Prisoner of War.
Chapter 18: The Court of Versailles.
Chapter 19: The Evasion.
Chapter 20: Loches.
Chapter 21: Back in Harness.
Chapter 22: Oudenarde.
Chapter 23: The Siege of Lille.
Chapter 24: Adele.
Chapter 25: Flight and Pursuit.
Chapter 26: The Siege of Tournai.
Chapter 27: Malplaquet, and the End of the War.
Chapter 1: Windthorpe Chace.
"One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four--turn to your lady;
one, two, three, four--now deep reverence. Now you take her hand;
no, not her whole hand--the tips of her fingers; now you lead her
to her seat; now a deep bow, so. That will do. You are improving,
but you must be more light, more graceful, more courtly in your
air; still you will do.
"Now run away, Mignon, to the garden; you have madam's permission
to gather fruit.
"Now, Monsieur Rupert, we will take our lesson in fencing."
The above speech was in the French language, and the speaker was a
tall, slightly-built man of about fifty years of age. The scene was
a long low room, in a mansion situated some two miles from Derby.
The month was January, 1702, and King William the Third sat upon
the throne. In the room, in addition to the dancing master, were
the lad he was teaching, an active, healthy-looking boy between
fifteen and sixteen; his partner, a bright-faced French girl of
some twelve years of age; and an old man, nearer eighty than
seventy, but still erect and active, who sat in a large armchair,
looking on.
By the alacrity with which the lad went to an armoire and took out
the foils, and steel caps with visors which served as fencing
masks, it was clear that he preferred the fencing lesson to the
dancing. He threw off his coat, buttoned a padded guard across his
chest, and handing a foil to his instructor, took his place before
him.
"Now let us practise that thrust in tierce after the feint and
disengage. You were not quite so close as you might have been,
yesterday. Ha! ha! that is better. I think that monsieur your
grandfather has been giving you a lesson, and poaching on my manor.
Is it not so?"
"Yes," said the old man, "I gave him ten minutes yesterday evening;
but I must give it up. My sword begins to fail me, and your pupil
gets more skillful, and stronger in the wrist, every day. In the
days when I was at Saint Germains with the king, when the cropheads
lorded it here, I could hold my own with the best of your young
blades. But even allowing fully for the stiffness of age, I think I
can still gauge the strength of an opponent, and I think the boy
promises to be of premiere force."
"It is as you say, monsieur le colonel. My pupil is born to be a
fencer; he learns it with all his heart; he has had two good
teachers for three years; he has worked with all his energy at it;
and he has one of those supple strong wrists that seem made for the
sword. He presses me hard.
"Now, Monsieur Rupert, open play, and do your best."
Then began a struggle which would have done credit to any fencing
school in Europe. Rupert Holliday was as active as a cat, and was
ever on the move, constantly shifting his ground, advancing and
retreating with astonishing lightness and activity. At first he was
too eager, and his instructor touched him twice over his guard.
Then, rendered cautious, he fought more carefully, although with no
less quickness than before; and for some minutes there was no
advantage on either side, the master's longer reach and calm steady
play baffling every effort of his assailant.
At last, with a quick turn of the wrist, he sent Rupert's foil
flying across the room. Rupert gave an exclamation of disgust,
followed by a merry laugh.
"You always have me so, Monsieur Dessin. Do what I will, sooner or
later comes that twist, which I cannot stop."
"You must learn how, sir. Your sword is so; as you lunge I guard,
and run my foil along yours, so as to get power near my hilt. Now
if I press, your sword must go; but you must not let me press; you
must disengage quickly. Thus, you see?
"Now let us try again. We will practise nothing else today--or
tomorrow--or till you are perfect. It is your one weak point. Then
you must practise to disarm your opponent, till you are perfect in
that also. Then, as far as I can teach you, you will be a master of
fencing. You know all my coups, and all those of monsieur le
colonel. These face guards, too, have worked wonders, in enabling
you to play with quickness and freedom. We are both fine blades.
"I tell you, young sir, you need not put up with an insult in any
public place in Europe. I tell you so, who ought to know."
In the year 1702 fencing was far from having attained that
perfection which it reached later. Masks had not yet been invented,
and in consequence play was necessarily stiff and slow, as the
danger of the loss of sight, or even of death, from a chance thrust
was very great. When Rupert first began his lessons, he was so rash
and hasty that his grandfather greatly feared an accident, and it
struck him that by having visors affixed to a couple of light steel
caps, not only would all possibility of an accident be obviated
upon the part of either himself or his pupil, but the latter would
attain a freedom and confidence of style which could otherwise be
only gained from a long practice in actual war. The result had more
than equalled his expectations; and Monsieur Dessin had, when he
assumed the post of instructor, been delighted with the invention,
and astonished at the freedom and boldness of the lad's play. It
was, then, thanks to these masks, as well as to his teachers' skill
and his own aptitude, that Rupert had obtained a certainty, a
rapidity, and a freedom of style absolutely impossible in the case
of a person, whatever his age, who had been accustomed to fence
with the face unguarded, and with the caution and stiffness
necessary to prevent the occurrence of terrible accident.
For another half hour the lesson went on. Then, just as the final
salute was given, the door opened at the end of the room, and a
lady entered, in the stiff dress with large hoops then in fashion.
Colonel Holliday advanced with a courtly air, and offered her his
hand. The French gentleman, with an air to the full as courtly as
that of the colonel, brought forward a chair for her; and when she
had seated herself, Rupert advanced to kiss her hand.
"No, Rupert, you are too hot. There, leave us; I wish to speak to
Colonel Holliday and monsieur."
With a deep bow, and a manner far more respectful and distant than
that which nowadays would be shown to a stranger who was worthy of
all honour, Rupert Holliday left his mother's presence.
"I know what she wants," Rupert muttered to himself. "To stop my
fencing lessons; just as if a gentleman could fence too well. She
wants me to be a stiff, cold, finnikin fop, like that conceited
young Brownlow, of the Haugh.
"Not if I know it, madame ma mere. You will never make a courtier
of me, any more than you will a whig. The colonel fought at Naseby,
and was with the king in France. Papa was a tory, and so am I."
And the lad whistled a Jacobite air as he made his way with a rapid
step to the stables.
The terms Whig and Tory in the reign of King William had very
little in common with the meaning which now attaches to these
words. The principal difference between the two was in their views
as to the succession to the throne. The Princess Anne would succeed
King William, and the whigs desired to see George, Elector of
Hanover, ascend the throne when it again became vacant; the tories
looked to the return of the Stuarts. The princess's sympathies were
with the tories, for she, as a daughter of James the Second, would
naturally have preferred that the throne should revert to her
brother, than that it should pass to a German prince, a stranger to
her, a foreigner, and ignorant even of the language of the people.
Roughly it may be said that the tories were the descendants of the
cavaliers, while the whigs inherited the principles of the
parliamentarians. Party feeling ran very high throughout the
country; and as in the civil war, the towns were for the most part
whig in their predilection, the country was tory.
Rupert Holliday had grown up in a divided house. The fortunes of
Colonel Holliday were greatly impaired in the civil war. His
estates were forfeited; and at the restoration he received his
ancestral home, Windthorpe Chace, and a small portion of the
surrounding domain, but had never been able to recover the outlying
properties from the men who had acquired them in his absence. He
had married in France, the daughter of an exile like himself; but
before the "king came to his own" his wife had died, and he
returned with one son, Herbert.
Herbert had, when he arrived at manhood, restored the fortunes of
the Chace by marrying Mistress Dorothy Maynard, the daughter and
heiress of a wealthy brewer of Derby, who had taken the side of
parliament, and had thriven greatly at the expense of the royalist
gentry of the neighbourhood. After the restoration he, like many
other roundheads who had grown rich by the acquisition of forfeited
estates, felt very doubtful whether he should be allowed to retain
possession, and was glad enough to secure his daughter's fortune by
marrying her to the heir of a prominent royalist. Colonel Holliday
had at first objected strongly to the match, but the probable
advantage to the fortune of his house at last prevailed over his
political bias. The fortune which Mistress Dorothy brought into the
family was eventually much smaller than had been expected, for
several of the owners of estates of which the roundhead brewer had
become possessed, made good their claims to them.
Still Herbert Holliday was a rich man at his father-in-law's death,
which happened three years after the marriage. With a portion of
his wife's dowry most of the outlying properties which had belonged
to the Chace were purchased back from their holders; but Herbert
Holliday, who was a weak man, cared nothing for a country life, but
resided in London with his wife. There he lived for another six
years, and was then killed in a duel over a dispute at cards,
having in that time managed to run through every penny that his
wife had brought him, save that invested in the lands of the Chace.
Dorothy Holliday then, at the Colonel's earnest invitation,
returned to the Chace with her son Rupert, then five years old.
There she ruled as mistress, for her disposition was a masterful
one, and she was a notable housekeeper. The colonel gladly resigned
the reins of government into her hands. The house and surrounding
land were his; the estate whose rental enabled the household to be
maintained as befitted that of a county family, was hers; and both
would in time, unless indeed Dorothy Holliday should marry again,
go to Rupert. Should she marry again--and at the time of her
husband's death she wanted two or three years of thirty--she might
divide the estate between Rupert and any other children she might
have, she having purchased the estate with her dowry, and having
right of appointment between her children as she chose. Colonel
Holliday was quite content to leave to his daughter-in-law the
management of the Chace, while he assumed that of his grandson, on
whom he doted. The boy, young as he then was, gave every promise of
a fine and courageous disposition, and the old cavalier promised
himself that he would train him to be a soldier and a gentleman.
When the lad was eight years old, the old vicar of the little
church at the village at the gates of the Chace died, and the
living being in the colonel's gift as master of the Chace, he
appointed a young man, freshly ordained, from Oxford, who was
forthwith installed as tutor to Rupert.
Three years later, Colonel Holliday heard that a French emigre had
settled in Derby, and gave lessons in his own language and in
fencing. Rupert had already made some advance in these studies, for
Colonel Holliday, from his long residence in France, spoke the
language like a native; and now, after Mistress Dorothy's objection
having been overcome by the assurance that French and fencing were
necessary parts of a gentleman's education if he were ever to make
his way at court, Monsieur Dessin was installed as tutor in these
branches, coming out three times a week for the afternoon to the
Chace.
A few months before our story begins, dancing had been added to the
subjects taught. This was a branch of education which Monsieur
Dessin did not impart to the inhabitants of Derby, where indeed he
had but few pupils, the principal portion of his scanty income
being derived from his payments from the Chace. He had, however,
acceded willingly enough to Mistress Dorothy's request, his consent
perhaps being partly due to the proposition that, as it would be
necessary that the boy should have a partner, a pony with a groom
should be sent over twice a week to Derby to fetch his little
daughter Adele out to the Chace, where, when the lesson was over,
she could amuse herself in the grounds until her father was free to
accompany her home.
In those days dancing was an art to be acquired only with long
study. It was a necessity that a gentleman should dance, and dance
well, and the stately minuet required accuracy, grace, and dignity.
Dancing in those days was an art; it has fallen grievously from
that high estate.
Between Monsieur Dessin and the old cavalier a cordial friendship
reigned. The former had never spoken of his past history, but the
colonel never doubted that, like so many refugees who sought our
shore from France from the date of the revocation of the edict of
Nantes to the close of the great revolution, he was of noble blood,
an exile from his country on account of his religion or political
opinions; and the colonel tried in every way to repay to him the
hospitality and kindness which he himself had received during his
long exile in France. Very often, when lessons were over, the two
would stroll in the garden, talking over Paris and its court; and
it was only the thought of his little daughter, alone in his dull
lodgings in Derby, that prevented Monsieur Dessin from accepting
the warm invitation to the evening meal which the colonel often
pressed upon him. During the daytime he could leave her, for Adele
went to the first ladies' school in the town, where she received an
education in return for her talking French to the younger pupils.
It was on her half holidays that she came over to dance with Rupert
Holliday.
Mistress Dorothy did not approve of her son's devotion to fencing,
although she had no objection to his acquiring the courtly
accomplishments of dancing and the French language; but her
opposition was useless. Colonel Holliday reminded her of the terms
of their agreement, that she was to be mistress of the Chace, and
that he was to superintend Rupert's education. Upon the present
occasion, when the lad had left the room, she again protested
against what she termed a waste of time.
"It is no waste of time, madam," the old cavalier said, more firmly
than he was accustomed to speak to his daughter-in-law. "Rupert
will never grow up a man thrusting himself into quarrels; and
believe me, the reputation of being the best swordsman at the court
will keep him out of them. In Monsieur Dessin and myself I may say
that he has had two great teachers. In my young days there was no
finer blade at the Court of France than I was; and Monsieur Dessin
is, in the new style, what I was in the old. The lad may be a
soldier--"
"He shall never be a soldier," Madam Dorothy broke out.
"That, madam," the colonel said courteously, "will be for the lad
himself and for circumstances to decide. When I was his age there
was nothing less likely than that I should be a soldier; but you
see it came about."
"Believe me, Madam," Monsieur Dessin said deferentially, "it is
good that your son should be a master of fence. Not only may he at
court be forced into quarrels, in which it will be necessary for
him to defend his honour, but in all ways it benefits him. Look at
his figure; nature has given him health and strength, but fencing
has given him that light, active carriage, the arm of steel, and a
bearing which at his age is remarkable. Fencing, too, gives a
quickness, a readiness, and promptness of action which in itself is
an admirable training. Monsieur le colonel has been good enough to
praise my fencing, and I may say that the praise is deserved. There
are few men in France who would willingly have crossed swords with
me," and now he spoke with a hauteur characteristic of a French
noble rather than a fencing master.
Madam Holliday was silent; but just as she was about to speak
again, a sound of horses' hoofs were heard outside. The silence
continued until a domestic entered, and said that Sir William
Brownlow and his son awaited madam's pleasure in the drawing room.
A dark cloud passed over the old colonel's face as Mistress Dorothy
rose and, with a sweeping courtesy, left the room.
"Let us go into the garden, monsieur," he said abruptly, "and see
how your daughter is getting on."
Adele was talking eagerly with Rupert, at a short distance from
whom stood a lad some two years his senior, dressed in an attire
that showed he was of inferior rank. Hugh Parsons was in fact the
son of the tenant of the home farm of the Chace, and had since
Rupert's childhood been his playmate, companion, and protector.
"Monsieur mon pere," Adele said, dancing up to her father, and
pausing for a moment to courtesy deeply to him and Colonel
Holliday, "Monsieur Rupert is going out with his hawks after a
heron that Hugh has seen in the pool a mile from here. He has
offered to take me on his pony, if you will give permission for me
to go."
"Certainly, you may go, Adele. Monsieur Rupert will be careful of
you, I am sure."
"Yes, indeed," Rupert said. "I will be very careful.
"Hugh, see my pony saddled, and get the hawks. I will run in for a
cloth to lay over the saddle."
In five minutes the pony was brought round, a cloth was laid over
the saddle, and Rupert aided Adele to mount, with as much deference
as if he had been assisting a princess. Then he took the reins and
walked by the pony's head, while Hugh followed, with two hooded
hawks upon his arm.
"They are a pretty pair," Colonel Holliday said, looking after
them.
"Yes," Monsieur Dessin replied, but so shortly that the colonel
looked at him with surprise.
He was looking after his daughter and Rupert with a grave,
thoughtful face, and had evidently answered his own thought rather
than the old cavalier's remark.
"Yes," he repeated, rousing himself with an effort, "they are a
pretty pair indeed."
At a walking pace, Rupert Holliday, very proud of his charge, led
the pony in the direction of the pool in which the heron had an
hour before been seen by Hugh, the boy and girl chattering in
French as they went. When they neared the spot they stopped, and
Adele alighted. Then Rupert took the hawks, while Hugh went forward
alone to the edge of the pool. Just as he reached it a heron soared
up with a hoarse cry.
Rupert slipped the hoods off the hawks, and threw them into the
air. They circled for an instant, and then, as they saw their
quarry rising, darting off with the velocity of arrows. The heron
instantly perceived his danger, and soared straight upwards. The
hawks pursued him, sailing round in circles higher and higher. So
they mounted until they were mere specks in the sky.
At last the hawks got above the heron, and instantly prepared to
pounce upon him. Seeing his danger, the heron turned on his back,
and, with feet and beak pointed upwards to protect himself, fell
almost like a stone towards the earth; but more quickly still the
hawks darted down upon him. One the heron with a quick movement
literally impaled upon his sharp bill; but the other planted his
talons in his breast, and, rending and tearing at his neck, the
three birds fell together, with a crash, to the earth.
The flight had been so directly upwards that they fell but a short
distance from the pool, and the lads and Adele were quickly upon
the spot. The heron was killed by the fall; and to Rupert's grief;
one of his hawks was also dead, pierced through and through by the
heron's beak. The other bird was with difficulty removed from the
quarry, and the hood replaced.
Rupert, after giving the heron's plumes to Adele for her hat, led
her back to the pony, Hugh following with the hawk on his wrist,
and carrying the two dead birds.
"I am so sorry your hawk is killed," Adele said.
"Yes," Rupert answered, "it is a pity. It was a fine, bold bird,
and gave us lots of trouble to train; but he was always rash, and I
told him over and over again what would happen if he was not more
careful."
"Have you any more?" Adele asked.
"No more falcons like this. I have gerfalcons, for pigeons and
partridges, but none for herons. But I dare say Hugh will be able
to get me two more young birds before long, and it is a pleasure to
train them."
Colonel Holliday and Monsieur Dessin met them as they returned to
the house.
"What, Rupert! Had bad luck?" his grandfather said.
"Yes, sir. Cavalier was too rash, and the quarry killed him."
"Hum!" said the old man; "just the old story. The falcon was well
named, Rupert. It was just our rashness that lost us all our
battles.
"What, Monsieur Dessin, you must be off? Will you let me have a
horse saddled for yourself; and the pony for mademoiselle? The
groom can bring them back."
Monsieur Dessin declined the offer; and a few minutes later started
to walk back with his daughter to Derby.