My lord persisted in his design of retiring to Eyford; nor could all
the persuasions of his friends, and of some who were less his friends
than their own, induce him to attend either the meeting of the party
at Admiral Russell's, or that which was held in Lincoln's Inn Fields;
a thing which I take to be in itself a refutation of the statement,
sometimes heard in his disparagement, that he lacked strength. For it
is on record that his Grace of Marlborough, in the great war, where he
had in a manner to contend with Emperors and Princes, held all
together by his firmness and conduct; yet he failed with my lord,
though he tried hard, pleading as some thought in his own cause. To
his arguments and those of Admiral Russell and Lord Godolphin, the
hearty support of the party was not lacking, if it could have availed.
But as a fact, it went into the other scale, since in proportion as
his followers proclaimed their faith in my lord's innocence, and
denounced his accusers, he felt shame for the old folly and
inconsistency, that known by some, and suspected by more, must now be
proclaimed to the world. It was this which for a time paralysed the
vigour and intellect that at two great crises saved the Protestant
Party; and this, which finally determined him to leave London.
It was not known, when he started, that horse-patrols had been ordered
to the Kent and Essex roads in expectation of His Majesty's immediate
crossing. Nor is it likely that the fact would have swayed him had he
known it, since it was not upon His Majesty's indulgence--of which,
indeed, he was assured--or disfavour, that he was depending; my lord
being moved rather by considerations in his own mind. But at
Maidenhead, where he lay the first night, Mr. Vernon overtook
him--coming up with him as he prepared to start in the morning--and
gave him news which presently altered his mind. Not only was His
Majesty hourly expected at Kensington, where his apartments were being
hastily prepared, but he had expressed his intention of seeing Fenwick
at once, and sifting him.
"Nor is that all," Mr. Vernon continued. "I have reason to think that
your Grace is under a complete misapprehension as to the character of
the charges that are being made."
"What matter what the charges are?" my lord replied wearily, leaning
back in his coach. For he had insisted on starting.
"It does matter very much--saving your presence, Duke," Mr. Vernon
answered bluntly; a sober and downright gentleman, whose
after-succession to the Seals, though thought at the time to be an
excessive elevation, and of the most sudden, was fully justified by
his honourable career. "Pardon me, I must speak, I have been swayed
too long by your Grace's extreme dislike of the topic."
"Which continues," my lord said drily.
"I care not a jot if it does!" Mr. Vernon cried impetuously, and then
met the Duke's look of surprise and anger with, "Your Grace forgets
that it is treason is in question! High Treason, not in the clouds and
_in pr[oe]terito_, but _in pr[oe]senti_ and in Kent! High Treason in
aiding and abetting Sir John Fenwick, an outlawed traitor, and by his
mouth and hand communicating with and encouraging the King's enemies."
"You are beside the mark, sir," my lord answered, in a tone of
freezing displeasure. "That has nothing to do with it. It is a foolish
tale which will not stand a minute. No man believes it."
"May be! But by G----d! two men will prove it."
"Two men?" quoth my lord, his ear caught by that.
"Ay, two men! And two men are enough, in treason."
My lord stared hard before him. "Who is the second?" he said at last.
"A dubious fellow, yet good enough for the purpose," the
Under-Secretary answered, overjoyed that he had at last got a hearing.
"A man named Matthew Smith, long suspected of Jacobite practices, and
arrested with the others at the time of the late conspiracy, but
released, as he says----"
"Well?"
"Corruptly," quoth the Under-Secretary coolly, and laid his hand on
the check-string.
My lord sprang in his seat. "What?" he cried; and uttered an oath, a
thing to which he rarely condescended. Then, "It is true I know the
man----"
"He is in the Countess's service."
"In her husband's. And he was brought before me. But the warrant was
against one John Smith--or William Smith, I forget which--and I knew
this man to be Matthew Smith; and the messenger himself avowing a
mistake, I released the man."
"Of course," said Mr. Vernon, nodding impatiently. "Of course, but
that, your Grace, is not the gravamen. It is a more serious matter
that he alleges that he accompanied you to Ashford, that you there in
his presence saw Sir John Fenwick, that you gave Sir John a ring--and,
in a word, he confirms Sir John's statement in all points. And there
being now two witnesses, the matter becomes grave. Shall I stop the
coach?" And he made again as if he would twitch the cord.
The Duke, wearing a very sober face--yet one wherein the light of
conflict began to flicker--drummed softly on the glass with his
fingers. "How do you come by his evidence?" he said at last. "Has Sir
John approved against him?"
"No, but Sir John sent for him the morning he saw Devonshire for the
second time, and I suppose threatened him, for the fellow went to
Trumball and said that he had evidence to give touching Sir John, if
he could have His Majesty's word he should not suffer. It was given
him, more or less; and he confirmed Sir John's tale _totidem verbis_.
They have had him in the Gatehouse these ten days, it seems, on
Trumball's warrant."
The Duke drew a deep breath. "Mr. Vernon, I am much obliged to you,"
he said. "You have played the friend in my teeth. I see that I have
treated this matter too lightly. Sir John, unhappy as he is in some of
his notions, is a gentleman, and I was wrong to think that he would
accuse me out of pure malice and without grounds. There is some ill
practice here."
"Devilish ill," Mr. Vernon answered, scarce able to conceal his
delight.
"Some plot."
"Ay, plot within plot!" cried the Under-Secretary, chuckling. "Shall I
pull the string?"
The Duke hesitated, his face plainly showing the conflict that was
passing in his mind. Then, "If you please," he said.
And so there the coach came to a standstill, as I have often heard, on
an old brick bridge short of Nettlebed, near the coming into the
village from Maidenhead. One of the outriders, spurring to the
carriage window for orders, my lord cried "Turn! Maidenhead!"
"No, London," said Mr. Vernon firmly. "And one of you," he continued,
"gallop forward, and have horses ready at the first change house. And
so to the next."
The Duke, his head in a whirl with what he had heard, pushed
resistance no farther, but letting the reins fall from his hands,
consented to be led by his companion. In deference to his wishes,
however--not less than to his health, which the events of the last few
weeks had seriously shaken--it was determined to conceal his return to
town; the rather as the report of his absence might encourage his
opponents, and lead them to show their hands more clearly. Hence, in
the common histories of the day, and even in works so learned and
generally well-informed as the Bishop of Salisbury's and Mr. ----'s,
it is said and asserted that the Duke of Shrewsbury retired to his
seat in Gloucestershire before the King's return, and remained there
in seclusion until his final resignation of the Seals. It is probable
that by using Mr. Vernon's house in place of his own, and by his
extreme avoidance of publicity while he lay in town, my lord had
himself to thank for this statement; but that in making it these
writers, including the learned Bishop, are wanting in accuracy, the
details I am to present will clearly show.
Suffice it that entering London late that night, my lord drove to Mr.
Vernon's, who, going next morning to the office, presently returned
with the news that the King had ridden in from Margate after dining at
Sittingbourne, and would give an audience to Sir John on the following
day. But, as these tidings did no more than fulfil the expectation,
and scarcely accounted for the air of briskness and satisfaction which
marked the burly and honest gentleman, it is to be supposed that he
did not tell the Duke all he had learned. And, indeed, I know this to
be so.