So catchers
And snatchers
Do toil both night and day,
Not needie,
But greedie,
Still prolling for their prey.
However a poor novelist may like to pursue the even tenor of his way
in peace and quietness, it is quite impossible for him to do so if he
take a true story for the basis of his tale. Circumstance is always
jumping about; and if he would follow nature, he must join in the game
of leap-frog too. Here is the palace of Fortune, with its glitter, and
its splendour, and its show; and there the cottage of Want, with its
care, and its foulness, and its misery. In one house, new-born Life is
coming into the world, all joyous; in the next, stern Death leads man
away to eternity; weeping Sorrow and laughing Joy sit mocking each
other at every step; and smiles and tears are still running after each
other on the high road, though little formed to bear company together.
Then, since the world is full of oppositions and of jumps, he that
copies it must sit upon his hind legs and play the kangaroo also.
I found it necessary to put forth this excuse before proceeding with
Vonderbrugius, who, without offering any reason for so doing, suddenly
flies back to scenes that we have not long quitted, and brings the
reader once more to London, where he shall be detained as short a time
as possible, on the word of a scribe.
All those who have read the history of that little, powerful nook of
island-earth called Great Britain, must very well know that the
imperious minister of Henry the Eighth was not one to receive
contradiction with patient resignation: what then was his rage on
hearing that Lady Constance de Grey was not to be found at Richmond!
True to what he threatened, Wolsey had not failed, immediately on
arriving in London, to send a horse-litter down to Richmond for his
fair ward, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour and the cold he
had himself experienced on the water; and towards eleven the same
night his messengers returned, informing him that the lady was not to
be found in the palace; adding, also, that a man belonging to the gate
had been employed to carry some luggage for her down to a two-oared
boat, which had received her at the stairs, and rowed off towards
Westminster.
This was the sum of all the news they had obtained, but it was
sufficient to guide Wolsey on the search which he instantly prepared
to institute for the fugitive. Before going to rest, he took every
precaution for preventing her leaving the kingdom; ordered messengers
to set out early the next morning for every port where she was likely
to embark; and commanded an officer to post to Richmond that very
night, and, stationing himself at the palace-stairs, to await the
arrival of the men who rowed the boat which had conveyed her away,
giving him at the same time an order for their arrest.
In regard to the couriers to the various ports, we shall leave them to
their fate, not embarrassing ourselves with a search half over the
realm, but shall pursue the movements of the other messenger, from
whose operations very important results were obtained.
Though heartily wishing the cardinal and Lady Constance well scourged,
the one as the proximate, the other as the remote cause of his
night-ride, the officer got into his saddle, and accompanied by two
followers, set out for Richmond, where they arrived towards two
o'clock in the morning.
Men of a curious and philosophic mind have remarked, that there is
always a pot-house near a waterman's stairs; and the same fact was
observable in the present instance. Nearly opposite to the landing on
the left-hand side stood the hospitable mansion of a beer-retailer,
who dealt out the British nectar to all those who had the means of
paying for it; and in his window, even at the hour of two o'clock, was
shining a lamp, whereat the officer marvelled, as the neighbourhood of
the palace enjoined order and sobriety amongst the multitude. Riding
up, however, he dismounted; and pushing open the door, perceived that
the tap-room was occupied by a single individual of the waterman
species, whose sleepy head, nodding backwards and forwards, often
approached so near the lamp upon the table as to threaten his red nose
with a conflagration. Without any regard for the rites of Morpheus,
the officer shook the sleeper heartily by the shoulder, whereupon he
started up, crying--
"Well, I'm ready; how long you've been! I've been a-waiting this
hour."
"Waiting for whom?" demanded the officer; "not for me, I'm sure, or
with my will you'd waited long enough."
"Lord bless us, sir! I beg your worship's pardon!" said the man,
rubbing his eyes; "I thought you were the two yeomen that hired my
boat to take the young lady to Lunnun. Curious folks they were not to
let me row my own boat! They promised to be back by one, and so Master
Tapster lets me sit up here for 'em. I thought you were them two
indeed."
"No. I'm a single man, and never was two in my life," answered the
officer. "But about these two yeomen? At one o'clock you say they were
to come? Pray, how came you to let them your boat?"
"Lord! because they asked me, sure," replied the waterman; "that's
how."
"But how do you know they will ever bring it back again?" demanded the
officer.
"Because they left me ten marks as a pledge," answered the other. "No,
no; I wasn't to be outwitted. I saw they wanted the boat very bad, so
I let them have it for a mark by the day; but I made them leave me ten
others; so, if the boat be lost or hurt, I've got double its worth in
my own pocket."
"And what did they say they were going to do with it?" demanded the
officer.
"Oh! I didn't ask," said the waterman; "but walking about I saw them
lie there at the stairs for near an hour, till presently comes down a
young lady, and an old priest, and a waiting-woman, as I judged, and
in they get, and away rows the boat toward Lunnun. They were lusty
rowers, I warrant you, and good at the trade. But your worship seems
mighty curious about them."
"Ay, and so curious," answered the officer, "that they shall both come
with me to London if they come hither to-night; and you, too, Master
Waterman; so hold yourself ready. Ho, Thomas! come in and stay with
this worthy. See that he does not budge. You, Will, put up the horses,
and then come down to me at the stairs."
The excellent tipstaff now, after cutting short the remonstrance of
the boatman, proceeded to the water-side, and crossing his arms,
waited, with his eyes fixed upon the bright river, as it flowed on,
rippling like waves of silver in the moonshine. In a few minutes he
was joined by his follower, and before long a black spot appeared
moving up the midst of the stream, while the plashing of distant oars
began to make itself heard. As the boat came nearer, two men were
plainly to be seen rowing it towards the landing-place, one of whom,
raising his head when they were within a few yards' distance,
exclaimed--
"Is that you, Master Perkins?"
"Ay, ay!" answered the officer, imitating, as well as he could, the
gruff halloo of a waterman, and walking about with his hands in his
breeches pockets, as if to keep himself warm.
Without more ado, the boat pulled to the shore, and one of the men
jumped out, whereupon the officer instantly caught him by the collar,
exclaiming--
"In the king's name I charge you go with me!"
"Pull off! pull off!" cried the man to his companion; "by the Lord, he
has grabbed me! Pull off, boy!"
The other rower without scruple pushed from the shore before the
tipstaff's man could secure the bow of the boat, and seeing his
companion caught beyond the power of extrication, he snatched up the
other oar, and pulled away down the river as hard as he could.
"And now, what the devil do you want with me'" cried the man,
sturdily, turning to the officer. "Come, off with your hands! Don't be
fingering my collar so hard, or I'll crack your nutshell for you." And
at the same time he struggled to shake off the other's grasp; but the
officer, who seemed accustomed to deal with persons that did not
particularly relish his ministry, very soon settled the question with
his prisoner, by striking him a blow over the head with a staff he
carried, in such sort as to level him with the ground. It is wonderful
how soothing to the prisoner's feelings this mild treatment seemed to
be; for without any further effort he suffered himself to be led away
to the alehouse, from whence he was safely removed the next morning to
Westminster, the original owner of the boat being carried along with
him as a witness. And here let me beg all constables, Bow Street
officers, scarlet runners, street-keepers, constables of the night,
and watchmen, who may read this excellent and instructive history, to
take example by the prudence of this officer, who, having acquired all
the information he could from other sources, wisely abstained from
asking his prisoner any questions whatsoever, leaving his examination
to be taken by competent persons.
Carrying his game directly to York House, the worthy and exemplary
tipstaff, whose name I should not fail to record, had not
Vonderbrugius unfeelingly omitted it; this prince of tipstaves, I say,
placed his charge in a place of security, and, on the cardinal's
return from Westminster Hall, informed him of all that he had done to
fulfil the mission with which he had honoured him. The cardinal
praised the tipstaff's zeal, and beginning to suspect that there was
some mystery in the business, more than the mere course which
Constance had taken, he ordered the prisoner and the evidence to be
brought instantly before him; and proceeded himself to investigate the
matter, and to see whether his fingers would be neat enough to pick
the needle out of the bottle of hay: a delicate operation, for which
there is but one method, which may be called the Alexandrine: namely,
burn the hay, and you are sure to get the needle.
Something similar was the proceeding which the cardinal proposed to
adopt; for no sooner was the prisoner brought before him, rather pale
with fright, and somewhat nervous with his night's entertainment, than
he pronounced a most eloquent oration upon the necessity of meeting
death with firmness, warning the unhappy man, at the same time, that
he had nothing to hope in this world, and bidding him to prepare for
the next. Through the whole, however, he suffered to appear, implied,
though not expressed, the possibility that a free confession of all
the culprit knew concerning Lady Constance de Grey and her evasion
might take the sting out of his offence, and disencumber his windpipe
of the pressing familiarity with which it was threatened by a hempen
cord.
In those times rights were but little defined, and the extent of the
great civil and political powers hardly ascertained even to the minds
of the cultivated and reflecting, much less to people in the rank of
the person who now stood before the prelate, surrounded by all those
impressive insignia which then, indeed, implied vast though borrowed
power. Without going into the metaphysics of the business, it will be
sufficient for my purpose to say, that the poor fellow was desperately
frightened, especially as he had upon his conscience more than one
hearty crime, which he well knew might at any time prove a sufficient
excuse for sending him part of the way to heaven, whether he ever made
the whole journey out or not. Therefore, having no great interest in
concealing anything he knew, and every interest in the world in
telling it, he fell down upon his knees, declaring that he would
reveal all, if the cardinal would make a solemn promise that he should
have the king's free pardon and the church's for every sin, crime, and
misdemeanour he had committed up to that day.
It cost him nothing but a bit of parchment and a little yellow wax,
and so the cardinal promised; whereupon the culprit, still upon his
knees, began as follows:--
"My master, Sir Payan Wileton----"
"Sir Payan Wileton is your master, then?" cried Wolsey "So, so! Go
on."
"My master, Sir Payan Wileton, my gracious lord," continued the man,
"after he had been with your grace yesterday morning, returned home
full speed to his house by the water's edge, near Tothill, and
suddenly dispatched one of our yeomen down to Richmond with a poor
foolish priest, saving your grace's presence, who had been with him
some days. After that, he wrote a note, and giving it to me, bade me
take with me Black John, and gallop down to the court like mad.
Whenever we got there, I was to speak with Hatchel Sivard, whom he had
set to spy all that passed at the palace, and who would help me to
hire a boat for the day. After that was done, I was to seek the Lady
de Grey, and give her the note; and then, leaving our horses at the
baiting-house, I and my fellow were to wait in the boat till the lady
came, and to row her whithersoever she directed; but, above all, to
seem like common watermen, and to take whatever payment she gave us.
And if by chance she didn't come, we were to give up the boat and
return."
As may be supposed, Wolsey was not a little surprised at the intrigue
which this opened to his view. "So!" said he. "So! Hatchel Sivard, the
page of the queen's ante-chamber, is a pensioned spy of Sir Payan
Wileton. Good! very good! Of course you carried the lady to her
relation's house, ha?"
"Not so, may it please your lordship's grace," replied the man. "At
first, she made as if she would have stopped at Tothill, but then she
bade us row on to Westminster, where she landed."
"But you saw whither she went?" cried Wolsey, his brow darkening.
"Mind, your life depends upon your speaking truth! Let me but see a
shade of falsehood, and you are lost!"
"As I hope for mercy, my lord, I tell you the whole truth," replied
the servant. "When she was landed, I got out and followed; but, after
turning through several streets, I saw that they marked me watching,
so I was obliged to run down a narrow lane, hoping to catch them by
going round; but they had taken some other way, and I found them not
again."
Wolsey let his hand drop heavily upon the table, disappointed in his
expectations. "You say _them_, fellow! Whom do you mean?" he demanded.
"Who was with her?"
"Her waiting-woman, your grace," answered the man, "and an old priest,
who Sivard says is her chaplain."
"Ah!" said Wolsey thoughtfully; "Dr. Wilbraham! This is very strange!
A staid good man, obedient to my will, coinciding in the expediency of
the marriage I proposed. There must be some deeper plot here of this
Sir Payan Wileton. The poor girl must be deceived, and perhaps not so
much obstinate as misled. I see it; I see it all. The wily traitor
seeks her estates, and would fain both stop her marriage and bring her
within my displeasure. A politic scheme, upon my honour! but it shall
not succeed. Secretary, bid an usher speed to Sir Payan Wileton, and,
greeting him sweetly, request his presence for a moment here."
It was the latter part of the above speech only that met the ears of
those around, the rest being muttered to himself in a low and almost
inaudible tone. "Pray, pray your lordship's grace!" cried the man,
clasping his hands in terror as soon as he heard Wolsey's command; "do
not let Sir Payan have me. I shall not be alive this time two days, if
you do. Indeed I shan't. Your grace does not know him. There is
nothing stops him in his will; and I shall be found dead in my bed, or
drowned in a pond, or tumbled out of window, or something like; and
then Sir Payan will pretend to make an investigation, and have the
crowner, and it will be found all accident. If it is the same to your
lordship's grace, I would rather be hanged at once, and know what I'm
about, than be given up to Sir Payan, to die no one can tell how."
"Fear not, fool!" said Wolsey; "but tell the whole truth, and you
shall be safe; ay, and rewarded. Conceal anything, and you shall be
hanged. Take him away, secretary, and examine him carefully. Make him
give an exact account of everything he has seen in the house of Sir
Payan Wileton, and after putting it in writing, swear him to it; and
then, hark you"--and he whispered something to the secretary--adding,
"let him be there well used."
The man was now removed from the cardinal's presence; and waiting till
the messenger returned from Sir Payan's, Wolsey remained in deep
thought, revolving in his keen and scrutinising mind all the parts of
the shrewd plot he had just heard developed, and thinking over the
best means of punishing Sir Payan Wileton in such a manner as to make
his fall most bitter. While thus engaged, one of his secretaries
entered, and bowing low stood silent, as if waiting for permission to
speak.
"What is it?" said Wolsey; "is it matter of consequence?" The
secretary bowed low again, and replied, "It is the herald's opinion,
my lord, upon the succession of the old Lord Orham of Barneton, the
miser, who left the two chests of gold, as well----"
"I know, I know!" said Wolsey. "How do they give it? I trust not to
that base churl, William Orham, who struck my officer one day."
"Oh, no! your grace," replied the secretary; "there are two nearer
than he is. But they say the succession is quite clear. Charles Lord
Orham, the great-grandfather of the last, had three sons, from one of
whom descends William Orham; but the eldest son, succeeding, had two
sons and a daughter, all of whom married, and had issue; the eldest
son, Thomas Lord Orham, him succeeded, who had only issue the last
lord. The daughter had five sons, and the second son, Hugh Orham, had
one only daughter, who married Arthur Bulmer, Earl of Wilmington, who
died, leaving issue one only daughter, Mistress Katrine Bulmer, by
courtesy the Lady Katrine Bulmer, whom your grace may remember the
queen took very young, when it was found that Lord Wilmington's
estates went in male descent. She is the undoubted heiress."
"Ha!" said Wolsey, "that changes much. Well, well! go see that it be
clearly made out. Now, what says Sir Payan Wileton?" he continued,
turning to the messenger, who had just returned.
"The house is empty, so please your grace," replied the usher, "all
but one old porter, who says that Sir Payan and his train set out for
Chilham yesterday morning, after visiting your reverend lordship. He
affirms, moreover, that the knight never got off his horse, but only
gave orders that the priest should be sent down to Richmond with all
speed, and then rode away himself for Kent."
"So!" said the cardinal, his lip curling into a scornful sneer, "he
finds his miscreant is caught, and thinks to deceive me with a tale
that would not cloud the eyesight of an old woman. But let him stay;
he shall lull himself into a fool's paradise, and then find himself
fallen to nothing. That will do." The usher fell back, and for a
moment Wolsey, as was often his wont, continued muttering to himself,
"The Lady Katrine: she was Darby's fool passion. If it lasts he shall
have her: 'tis better than the other. Besides, the other girl is away,
and he must have gold to bear out his charges at this meeting at
Ardres; so shall it be. Well, well! Send in whoever waits without," he
added, speaking in a louder voice, and then applied himself to other
business.