ST. GEORGE'S CROSS;
OR,
ENGLAND ABOVE ALL.
_An Episode of Channel Island History._
BY
H.G. KEENE
GUERNSEY:
FREDERICK CLARKE, STATES ARCADE.
LONDON:
W.H. ALLEN & CO., 15. WATERLOO PLACE.
1887.
TO THE READER.
The following little tale is neither pure fiction nor absolute historic
truth; being, indeed, little more than an attempt to show a picture of
Channel Island life as it was some two centuries ago. For the background
we have been beholden to Dr. S.E. Hoskins, whose "_Charles the Second in
the Channel Islands_" may be commended to all who may feel tempted to
pursue the matter further.
_August, 1887._
PROLOGUE.
On a bright day in September of the year 1649 Mr. William Prynne, a
suspended Member of Parliament, sat at the window of his lodging in the
Strand, London, where the Thames at high water brimmed softly against
the lawn, bearing barges, wherries, and other small craft, and gleaming
very pleasantly in the slant brightness of an autumn noon.
The unprosperous politician looked upon the fair scene with quiet cheer.
He was a man of austere aspect, and looked farther advanced in middle
life than was actually the case. For he was bearing the unjust weight of
a double enmity; and though his after conduct showed that the world's
injustice by no means threw him off his moral balance, yet it is
impossible for a man to get into a position where every one but himself
seems wrong and not acquire a certain sense of solitude, which, with a
grave nature, will make him graver still. By the Cavaliers he had been
pilloried, mutilated, fined and imprisoned: expelled from the University
where he was a Master-of-Arts, driven out of the Inn-of-Court in which
he had been a Bencher. By the Roundheads, on the other hand, he had been
visited with a later and more intolerable wrong, exclusion from that
House of Commons which was the only surviving seat of sovereignty. Thus
excommunicated on all sides, Prynne still preserved his free and buoyant
nature. He had the voice and impulsive manner of a young man; while
there was a consistent moderation in his opinions which--however it
might weigh against his success as a party-man--yet sprang from
conviction, and was a guard against misanthropy.
In his apparel he was plain but not slovenly. His eyes were eager; his
lean face, branded with the first letters of the words "Seditious
Libeller," was shaded by straight falls of lank hair, streaked here and
there with grey, that was combed down on either side of his head to hide
the loss of his ears.
Hearing a step without, Prynne laid down the book he had been reading--a
pamphlet by John Milton--and advanced, with an air of polite reserve, to
meet the entering visitor. This was a man more than ten years his
junior, short of stature, with clear-cut features and thoughtful blue
eyes contrasting with hair and moustache dark almost to blackness. His
neatly brushed garments had a threadbare gloss, and his broad linen
falling collar, though white and clean, was somewhat frayed. But his
bearing was high-bred and distinguished, with an air of sober yet
resolute earnestness. He wore no sword, and the hat which he carried in
his hand was plain of shape and without adornment.
"M. de Maufant," said Prynne, with the shy courtesy of a student, "will
admire that I should seek speech of him after sundry passages that have
been between us."
"Alack! Mr. Prynne," answered the stranger, with a slight foreign
accent, "since your captivity in Mont Orgueil many things have befallen.
'Tis not alone I, Michael Lempriere the exile, changed from the state
of Seigneur de Maufant and Chief Magistrate of Jersey to that of an
outcast deriving a precarious subsistence from teaching French in your
Babylon here; but methinks you yourself have had a fall too, since the
days you speak of: when you left Jersey for London you came here in a
sort of triumph. But by this time, methinks, you must be cured of your
high hopes: I say it not for offence, but rather out of sorrow."
"Why no," answered the ex-Member. "Though I be no longer one of yonder
assembly, I am still a denizen of London; and, let me tell you, a
citizen of no mean city. And I bear my share in advancing the great
cause on which so many of us are now engaged. Have you not read what Mr.
Milton hath said here as touching this?" And he took up the book which
he had dropped in the window-seat "It is well said, as you will find."
Motioning Lempriere to a chair, he took another and read as follows:--
"'Behold now this vast city, a city of refuge, the mansion-house of
liberty, encompassed and surrounded with its protection ... pens and
hands there, sitting by their studious lamps, musing, searching,
revolving new notions and ideas, wherewith to present, as with their
homage and their fealty, the approaching reformation.' As he saith a
little further on, the fields of our harvest are white already; and it
is your privilege and mine that live among this wise and active people,
to see it coming, perhaps to put in a sickle. The pamphlet is becoming a
force stronger than the sword; and those Ironsides and Woodenheads who
turn us out of the Chamber where our fellow citizens had seated us, may
find an ill time before them when our work is over. But our work will be
the work of freedom."
What more would have been said, now that Prynne was setting forth on
his dearly-loved hobby, of which the name was _Cedant arma_, is unknown;
for the serving-man entered at this moment with a simple but plentiful
repast carried on his head from the adjacent tavern; and even Prynne's
eagerness was dashed with caution enough to keep him to ordinary topics
of talk so long as the man was in the room. But Lempriere had seen and
heard enough to put him in good humour with his host. The intimacy of
the latter with the Carterets, and a suspicion of general lukewarmness
in the popular cause, had begotten old enmities, of which Lempriere, in
the long probation of failure, exile, and poverty, had already learned
to be ashamed; and to see the man he had misjudged, looking him eagerly
and earnestly in the face as he uttered the language of a genuine
reformer, completed the Jerseyman's conversion. After the servant had
brought pipes and glasses and left the gentlemen to their tobacco and
their wine, their talk grew more familiar as they looked at the flowing
river, and the deserted towers of Lambeth away on the other side.
"The truth is," said Prynne, "that I received from the cavaliers of your
island kindnesses that I cannot forget; yet as touching the trial and
execution of the late King, if I have gainsayed aught of the other side,
yet I need not repeat that I have ever been a friend to Liberty, as
witness these indentures," and with a starched smile he pointed to the
marks upon his face. "I know that you have reason to be angry with Sir
George Cartwright...."
"Let us not talk of him," answered the other, with a flush on his
swarthy cheek. "I lose all patience when I think of the many mischiefs
entailed upon my country by the cruelty and greed of that house. When
his late uncle, your protector, made Sir George a substitute in the
Government of the island, he was but 23 years old: but old enough to be
a serpent more subtle than any that went before; and see what he hath
made of our little Eden! He and his men the servants, not of the people,
but of Jermyn; prelacy and malignancy spread abroad. In the twelve
parishes seven Captains are Carterets: and the Knight himself, beside
his Deputyship, Bailiff and Receiver of the revenues, which he holds at
an easy farm."
"I conceive that your Eves and Adams should lose their virtue with such
a tempter; yet, had you and Dumaresq been less bent on Sir Philip's
ruin, and on grasping his powers and profits, if you can pardon my plain
speaking, I will be bold to say Sir Philip was no friend to tyranny, and
would, under God's pleasure, have been still alive to forward the cause
of reasonable freedom."
"I will follow your good example and use equal plainness, Mr. Prynne.
This wise man hath said that 'the simple believeth every word.' But if
we should do likewise and believe every word that is told of you, we
might say 'that Mr. Prynne was seduced by Sir Philip and Lady Carteret
when he was their prisoner in Mont Orgueil.' And farther, it hath even
been said that at that time you sent out a recantation to the King of
that for which you suffered."
"It skills not," answered the host, with evident self-control, "it
skills not to rake into that which is passed."
"Neither did I seek to do so," rejoined the Jerseyman, "I seek no
offence, nor mean any. But, as touching the Knight's spirit, and whether
he sought the welfare of our island with singleness of heart, let me
have leave to be of mine own mind. Will you not let me take the
affirmation from the doings of Sir George, his nephew, and present
successor? Where is the place of profit that he hath not bestowed upon a
kinsman or creature of his own?"
"Methinks," said Prynne, shrewdly, "there be others than he who would
gladly share those barley loaves and few small fishes."
"That may be," said Lempriere. "The labourer is worthy of his hire, to
give you Scripture for Scripture. But what will you say to the piracies
by which the traffic of the seas is intercepted, and Mr. Lieutenant
daily enriched by plunder from English vessels? Surely, even the
charitable protecting of Mr. Prynne will hardly serve to cover such a
multitude of sins!"
The conference was once more growing warm, when fortunately, it was
abridged by the sudden entrance of a man not unlike Lempriere in general
appearance, though taller and many years his junior. He wore a steel
cap, a gorget, and a buff coat; and received a hearty welcome from the
Jerseyman, by whom he was presented to Prynne.
"Captain Le Gallais is newly arrived from our island," said Lempriere,
"and I made bold to leave word that I was here, in case of his coming to
my lodgings while I tarried with you. He brings me news of 'domus et
placens uxor,'" added the speaker, taking with a sad smile the letter
which Le Gallais handed him. The servant having brought a third long
stalked glass and placed it on the table, left the room once more, as
the visitor, unbuckling his long basket-hilted sword, threw himself into
a high-backed chair, and stretched his limbs, as one who rests after
long travel.
"I am come post," said he, "from Southampton. There is that to do in
Jersey which it imports the rulers of this land to know."
"That may well be," observed Lempriere, who shared his countryman's
idea of the importance of their little island. "But how fares my Rose? A
wanderer may love his Ithaca, but he loves his wife most. Have I your
leave, Mr. Prynne, to examine this missive?"
Prynne bowed, and Lempriere cut open his letter.
"Penelope maketh such cheer as she may," he added, after glancing at the
contents: "but I see nothing of your mighty news, Alain."
"The letter was written before I learned the same. The return of Ulysses
did not then seem so far as it does now."
"Leave riddling, Alain, and let us know the worst."
"The worst is, Charles Stuart is in S. Helier, with a large power,
warmly received by Sir George, and holding the island as a tool of
Jermyn and the Queen, if not a pensioner of France. I saw his barge row
into the harbour at high tide, followed by others laden with silken
courtiers and musicians; horse-boats and cook-boats swelled the train;
the great guns of the Castle fired salvoes, and the militia stood to
their arms upon the quay, with drums beating, fifes squeaking, and our
own company from Saint Saviour's ranked among the rest, green leaves in
their hats and round the poles of their colours."
Lempriere leant his head on his hand with a discomfited and despondent
gesture. Prynne addressed him kindly:--
"Have a little patience, H. de Maufant," said he. "The sun shines in
heaven though earth's clouds hide his face."
"Lukewarm Reuben!" cried the other, impatiently. "What comfort can I
have from such as thou? While we talk my country is indeed undone: my
wife perhaps a wanderer, and my lands and house given over to the
enemy."
"Nay, but it need not be so," said Prynne. "The Rump that ruleth here,
even were it a complete Parliament, cannot be an idol to you and yours.
I have read your island laws. Those that say that the Parliament hath
jurisdiction there must, sure, be strangely ignorant. And so witnesseth
Lord Coke, no slave of the prerogative. Your islands are the ancient
patrimony of the Crown: what hinders you from casting in your lot with
Charles? For my part, I would willingly compound with him. Let him rule
as he pleases there, provided he make not slaves of us."
"There spoke the self-loving Englishman," cried Le Gallais, whom respect
for his seniors had hitherto kept silent. "If you speak of hindering,
what is to hinder Sir George, now that he hath the King for backer, from
confiscating all our remaining lands and applying the produce to fitting
out a fleet which will ruin the trade of all England? It is a question
for you also, you perceive."
"_Proximus Ucalegon_," said Lempriere, whom nothing could long restrain
from airing his classical knowledge. "But leave me to speak to Mr.
Prynne in terms that will not offend, and that he cannot fail to
understand. Harkye, Mr. Prynne," he said, turning to his host and
resuming use of the English language in lieu of the patois in which he
had addressed his countryman. "You love the Commonwealth, I know; your
many sufferings in that behalf show you a true friend to the cause of
English liberty. But to me it appears that this cause cannot be fitly
separated from that of your small satellite yonder."
"I do not seek to deny it," answered Prynne. "Now this good fellow,"
pursued Lempriere, laying his hand on his young friend's shoulder,
"(and let his zeal make amends for his blunt manner) hath brought
tidings, from which it appears that our affairs are in such a state as
calls for your interposition. And I learn moreover from this letter that
Henry Dumaresq is stirring, and the greed and grasping of the Carterets
have made them many ill-wishers. Nevertheless, Pierre Benoist hath been
taken, and under torture may readily betray our plans. On the other
hand, he that is called King there, the young Charles Stuart, is under
the regimen of his mother, who is the tool of France. Between them all
Jersey may be lost to the Commonwealth before a blow be stricken."
"Nay," cried Prynne, interrupting, "I would not have you say so. We
English are neither braggarts nor cowards. Whitelocke knoweth the mind
of Mazarin; and I pray you note that Cromwell, though as a man of State
I do not uphold him, is a soldier whose zeal never sleeps, and who cares
more for the welfare of England and such as depend upon her than any
Stuart will ever do, or undo. I sent for you, indeed, on this very
behalf; not minded to show you all the springs of politics, yet to give
you a word of comfort and to ask of you a word of friendliness in
return, yea, word for word, an you will."
The politician's keen eye softened as he looked at the forlorn exile.
The latter turned abruptly, as if to reveal no corresponding emotion:
then, looking straight before him, said in low tones:--
"For comfort, God knows whether or no it be needed. My place and power
are lost--such as they were--a price is set upon my head by those who
slew Maximilian Messervy. My wife--who is to me like the apple of mine
eye--is alone, battling with hostile authority, and with tenants too
ready to profit by her helpless condition. I am as one encompassed by
quicksands, and nigh to be swallowed up. I am tempted to say with
David, 'Vain is the help of man.' Do you show me a bridge of escape?" he
asked, turning to Prynne, "what is your meaning? I pray you speak it
out."
"You cannot," said his host, "have forgotten Serjeant-Major Lydcott of
this Army; and how with a slender company he landed on your island six
years ago. It was about the end of August, 1643, I remember well, for
Sir Philip had been dead bare three days and indeed was not yet buried:
and the castles of Jersey still held out for the Cartwrights. I said
then that, had Lydcott but taken three hundred of our sober, God fearing
soldiers, he would have established himself as master of the island on
behalf of the Commonwealth. George Cartwright had never come over from
S. Maloes; the pirates of S. Aubin would have been confounded and
brought to nought; Sir Peter Osborne had never held Castle Cornet in
Guernsey (to the shame and sorrow of the well-affected in that island),
had they but been backed and aided from Jersey. Even as things were, and
with no more help but what he got from you--I say it not to offend
you--how much did not Lydcott do? Three days after his landing he called
together the States and opened before them his commission from the Earl
of Warwick, Warden of the Isles and Lord High Admiral of England. You
were present and presiding, as you must needs remember, together with
all but three Jurats, all the Constables save one, and nearly half the
Rectors. Without a dissentient voice you administered the oath of
Lieutenant-Governor to Lydcott, yourself standing forth as Bailiff and
sworn the first. What hindered you then from holding fast? Nothing but
want of a backbone of strength. The militia, whom you now hold
malignant, swore allegiance to a man, save and except one Colonel who
was broke then and there. You may say George Cartwright drove you out;
but what did he do that could justify your flight? I must be plain with
you: with all outward and visible signs of power you gave way before
three open boats and a mouldy ruin."
"We gave way," said Lempriere with an indignant flush, "because we were
forsook by them on whom we leaned."
"I know it," pursued Prynne, "I say it not to blame you, but to blame
the lukewarm weakness of those who held authority there on the part of
the Commonwealth: for had Lydcott been ever so able and willing he
lacked support from hence. We had our hands full of graver business.
Only I neither desire nor expect such things should be done a second
time. There be those now in power that will take better order. The
future of your islands, the ties that bind them to us, were not known
six years ago; and our friends--as I have already said--had other
matters, more pressing, to attend to. But now is not then. Now, that a
violent policy that I cannot altogether undertake to defend hath shorn
the strength of tyranny, and that fair deceiver the late King--whom none
could safely trust or utterly despise--is by that blow taken out of our
path, we are free to set matters straight around us. It is therefore not
to be endured that your small wasps' nest yonder should continue to
infest our ambient ocean with her petty and poisonous alarms. This is
the word I have to give thee--friendly meant, though thou mayest have
been hitherto no friend to me. Jersey will be brought under the power of
the Commonwealth, and you will be among the instruments of its
reduction. I seek a word from you in return for mine."
"Sir," said the bewildered exile, "you have spoken hardly, but, I
believe, with a meaning kinder than seemed: a good intent makes amends
for a harsh manner, and a bitter drink may strengthen the heart, as has
this day been done to mine by the mingled counsel and reproof that have
been poured out for me. I seek not to pry into your affairs of State,
and what I have heard Le Gallais hath heard also. I therefore make no
scrutiny as touching the means to be employed; the end we will take
thankfully according as promised. If the Parliament and the Lord General
be so minded, I make no doubt but we shall return to our home. But as
regards the word you seek from me, I would fain know to what it shall
relate. You seek, I presume, to make conditions with me: let me know, in
the hearing of my friend, what they be. That we of the island shall be
true and faithful servants to the Commonwealth of England, not seeking
to intermeddle in matters that may be beyond our concernment, I would
gladly undertake for myself and for all with whom my wishes may have
weight: but methinks it shall hardly need. And perchance your Honour may
intend to glance at some more private matter?"
"I do so," answered the politician. "I have never hidden from you the
love that I bore for good Sir Philip living, nor how dear I hold his
memory now that he is dead. I would not that any who were of his party
should suffer damage when the cause shall prosper in the island. You
have heard of Cromwell's present doings in Ireland: all the world knows
what things are being wrought in that unhappy country, where the Lord
Ormonde hath been another Cartwright and hath met with an overthrow the
like of which I pretell for his Jersey antitype. Cartwright is as
unbending and will hold out to the last.
"Mont Orgueil, indeed, can make no opposition to a regular siege: we are
not now in the days of Du Guesclin. But it may be otherwise with
Elizabeth Castle. Like her whose name she bears that fortress is a
virgin, and not without a struggle will she yield. Cromwell loves not
such defences. Let us be there when the hour comes, and let us combine
to keep the garrison from perishing by the swords of our friends."
"Gladly will I do my best in aid of mercy," answered Lempriere, looking
much relieved by the nature of the request. "If that be all that your
Honour hath to ask, I can have no hesitancy in giving a hearty and
honest pledge in such behalf. Jersey is no Corsica; and we love not
revenge, do we, Alain?"
Alain readily endorsing his chief's assertion, Prynne continued:--
"It is not all. I have to pray you for the Lieutenant himself; misguided
and grasping as you deem him, he is of my deceased friend's name and
blood."
"Alack, Mr. Prynne!" answered Lempriere, "have you quite forgotten what
I owe to that blood and name? And I speak not in this for myself only.
There are the spirits of the Bandinels before me; unhappy victims of
George Carteret's revenge. There is the shade of my friend Maximilian
Messervy, judged by an unlawful and corrupt Court, executed under
warrant of one who had no warrant for himself."
In his excitement Lempriere had forgotten to quote Latin; he began to
pace the floor of the room. Prynne also rose and leaned by the window,
looking out at the shrubs standing dark and blotted against the evening
light that lay on the smooth water.
"Take not your example," he said; "from those whose deeds you abhor,
neither make your enemies your pattern. Recollect who it is that hath
said, 'Vengeance is mine:' and in the hour of your triumph remember to
spare. Come, give me your word, willingly. I am doing much for you, more
than you are aware. I call to mind some solemn words that I have heard
Mr. Milton quote:--
"The quality of Mercy is not strained,
It droppeth as the gentle dew from Heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blessed,
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."
Let your promise to bless come as freely as the dews that are falling
out there on my little grass-plot. Peace is upon the world--let peace be
in our hearts also!"
The vehement controversial voice changed and became musical as it
uttered the words. The fervour of an unwonted mood had brought something
of a mist into the speaker's eye; persuasion hung upon his gestures, and
the voice of private rancour sank before the pleading of his lips. As
the Jerseyman remained silent, Prynne went to the table and filled the
glasses from the flagon of Rhenish wine that stood there.
"We Presbyterians," he said, "are not given to the drinking of toasts.
But 'tis no common occasion. England's wars are over, may there be peace
upon Israel. Let us drink one glass together, and let us join in the
blessing of old, invoking it on our land:--'Peace be within thy walls
and prosperity within thy palaces: for my brethren and companions'
sake!'"
The guests followed their host's example, and seemed to share his mood.
Then, setting down their empty glasses, the three men parted in more
loving-kindness, it might well be, than what had marked some early
stages of their conversation. Prynne, when left alone, called for
candles and sat down to his writing-table. The Jerseymen walked together
towards Temple Bar.
"Knowest thou, _mon cher_," said the Ex-Bailiff in the island language,
"a heartier friend than one of these English that seem so cold?"
"But tell me, I pray thee, wherefore they call the present master of our
island by an English name? For surely yonder gentleman said
'Cartwright,' which is a name not of Jersey but of England." "They are
stupid, Alain, that is all; and they think to weigh the world in their
own scales. But whether we call him Cartwright or Carteret, it is
equally hard to pardon his voracity. He is like Time--_Edax rerum._
Nevertheless, I feel as if it was not only the sight of you and news
from home that had made me of such good cheer to-night: but that I owe
something of it to Mons. Prynne; aye! thanks to his schooling and a
readiness to perform what he has made me promise, should Carteret ever
stand at my disposal. The time may be near or it may be far; but I feel
that it must come."
"And then," asked Alain shyly, "shall not I too have something to expect
from thee: when thou art Bailiff again, and a man high in power, will
thou still be willing to give me thy sister-in-law?"
"Parbleu!" cried Lempriere, "if maids could be given like passports. But
Marguerite will have her way; it is for thee, _coquin_, to make her way
thine."
Thus, jointly labouring at airy castles, the pair of islanders pricked
their steps through the dirty and dimly-lighted streets till they
reached a squalid row of houses on Tower Hill, where was situated the
only lodging within the present means of the Seigneur of Maufant.
"To-night thou must share my chamber, _telle quelle_," he said. "'Tis a
poor one, as thou mayest suppose. _Infelix, habitum temporis hujus
habe?_"
"It is all one to me," said Alain, lightly; "whether here or at Maufant
thou art always good."
As they neared the door a voice came to them from the shadow of a
projecting oriel:--
"Have a care, Jerseymen! You are betrayed."
They ran to the shaded corner; but the moon was young and low and gave
but little light in the narrow street. A figure, seemingly that of a
tall man, was seen to glide away into another street, but they failed to
recognise it or trace its departing movements. Silently, and with
downcast looks they sought the entry of Lempriere's lodging, the door of
which he opened with a key that he carried in his pocket. Striking a
light from flint and steel on the hall table, Lempriere kindled a
hand-lamp, and led the way into a small chamber on the ground floor,
where they wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay down on a pallet
in the corner. The younger man, fatigued with travel, was soon asleep;
Lempriere, with more to think of, passed great part of the night in
wakeful anxiety. Before he finally sank to slumber he had resolved to
send Alain back at once to Jersey.
ACT I.
THE KING.
In 1649, when Charles II. was uncertain as to what steps he should take
on the death of his father, it was considered that the best and safest
place for his temporary residence was the Castle at S. Helier, in
Jersey, known by the name of Queen Elizabeth, where he had already lived
for a short time on an earlier occasion. Founded by order of the
Sovereign whose name it bore, it stands on a rocky islet, once a
promontory of the mainland, but long since insulated by every high tide.
At low water it communicated with the town by a natural causeway of
shingly rock called "The Bridge," commanded by its own guns. On the
Western curve of the bay, nearly two miles off as the bird flies, was
the small town of S. Aubin, guarded by a smaller fortress. The entire
bay was protected, by the batteries of these two places, against the
entrance of hostile shipping. Circumstances, not now entirely traceable
but connected probably with defensive considerations, had taken its
ancient preponderance from Gorey, on the eastern coast, which had once
been the seat of administration; and thus commenced the importance of S.
Helier, though in nothing like the present activity of its quays and
wharves, or the throng of its streets and markets. Above the head of
the "Bridge," indeed, the view from the North face of the Castle met
with no buildings till it struck upon the Town Church, an ancient but
plain structure of the fourteenth century, whose square central tower,
although by no means of lofty elevation, formed a landmark for mariners
out at sea by reason of a beacon that was always kept burning there by
night. At the foot of this tower nestled a cemetery containing the tombs
of "the rude forefathers" of what had been, till lately, indeed little
more than a hamlet. On the southern aspect of this, facing the castle
and the sea, the enclosure was marked by a strong granite breastwork
armed with cannons mounted _en barbette_. These pieces were pointed, for
the most part, on the bridge, or causeway leading to the Castle, into
which they were capable of sending salvos of round-shot, as in fact they
had often done a few years before. The rest of the cemetery was strongly
walled, though without guns. To the north of the Church ran narrow
streets, sloping gently upward from the seaside. The houses of these
streets were built of the local granite, hewn and hammered flat and
without projection or decoration, and with no other relief but what was
afforded by small rectangular lattice-windows. They were usually of two
storeys, crowned by high-pitched thatched roofs, with here and there a
tiny dormer window. Some were shops or taverns, among which were
interspersed the residences of the burgesses and the town houses of the
rural gentry. Fronted by miry roadway, or at best an occasional strip of
rough boulder pavement, over which wheeled carriages could rarely pass,
these lines of houses had no form or comeliness, save what might be due
to an occasional bit of small flower-garden before the few that were
large and inhabited by persons in comparatively easy circumstances.
Farther back the ground rose more rapidly and showed some scattered
suburban houses. The "Town Hill" to the east, the "Gallows Hill" to the
west, completed the amphitheatre. Up the main hollow ran a road leading
due north to the Manor and Church of Trinity parish in the interior of
the island, and terminating on the north coast in Boulay Bay, a fine
natural harbour, which was the nearest point of embarkation for England.
The whole island, scarcely less than the town, bore an appearance of
defence, almost of inaccessibility; the manors, farm houses, and even
many of the fields, being surrounded by granite walls, and capable of
arresting the progress of an invader, unless in great force. Each of the
twelve parish churches contained the arsenal of the local militia; and
all things betokened a hardy population, ready to do battle against all
intruders.
The titular Governor, Lord Jermyn, was an absentee, following the
fortunes of the widowed Queen, Henrietta Maria, in France. The actual
administration, both civil and military, was in the hands of a naval
officer of experience, Sir George Carteret, or de Carteret, cousin and
brother-in-law to the Seigneur of S. Owen, a large manor on the western
side of the island. This family, distinguished in island history ever
since it abandoned its fief of Carteret on the coast of Normandy to
follow the fortunes of John Lackland, when the Duchy was confiscated by
Philip Augustus, was by far the most powerful in the island. Its only
possible rival, the house of Lempriere, of Maufant, had espoused warmly
the cause of the Parliament, and had consequently met with reverses when
the Carterets, who were royalist, effected the revolution mentioned in
our Prologue.
It only remains to be added that the people at large were not at all
warmly attached to either of the parties to the Civil War. The language
of the majority was an old form of French, now reduced to the condition
of a patois; the more educated classes studied the laws and language of
France. The proceedings of the Courts and the services of the Church
were conducted in modern French, and the sympathies of the community
were divided between a mundane attachment to England, and a religious
leaning to the creed of the Huguenots, of whom a great number had sought
refuge on their shores. Hence the Jersey folks were indifferently
submissive to royalty, the only form of English government of which,
till these days, they had heard; but they by no means shared the
High-Church fervour which had animated the late unfortunate King. Their
ultimate motive, as is common to human nature, was for their own
interests; and although the influence of the Carterets had kept them,
for the most part, nominal followers of the cause of royalty, men like
Michael Lempriere and Prynne had good reason for believing that they
would, in the long run, favour those who seemed the best friends to
Jersey. Let them not be blamed for this. Their love for England was very
much founded upon fear of France. By observing the attitude of the
Scottish borderers of a slightly earlier period, an Englishman of the
seventeenth century could imagine the attitude of the Jersey mind
towards the "Normans," by which name they were accustomed to designate
their feudal and aggressive Catholic neighbours the Lords and Ministers
of the French Kingdom. Even as the Grahams and Scotts of Tweedside stood
at arms against each other on either bank of the dividing stream, so did
the de Gruchys and Malets, the Le Feuvres and de Quettevilles, on either
side the Channel. The danger that was nearest was the most formidable;
and the Channel Islanders were ready to side with England much as the
Saxon Scots of the Lothians came to make common cause with the Celts of
the Highlands.
These explanations may appear tedious: but the reader is implored to
pardon them; for without such he could not realise the passions which
are exemplified in this little story. Long exposed to invasion, the
Jerseymen of the middle ages had handed down to their descendants an
abhorrence of France which was fomented by the stories of persecution
brought to them by Huguenot refugees; and which, indeed, has hardly yet
completely died out among the rural population. Thus sentiment and
interest kept the islanders attached to England by a two-fold cord;
careless whether their immediate leaders were Cavaliers, as in Jersey,
or Parliamentarians, as in the neighbouring island of Guernsey, where
the royal Governor was beleaguered in Castle Cornet.
For reasons arising out of this state of things, Carteret did not leave
the protection of the King to the unaided loyalty of the local militia.
Cooped up in the narrow limits of the Castle rock were no less than
three hundred Englishmen and women attached to the Court, and, in
addition, a strong force of Irish and Cornish soldiers who had been
brought over by Charles on his former visit, as Prince of Wales, after
the battle of Naseby. His Sacred Majesty--_de jure_ of England,
Scotland, and Ireland, King, to say nothing of France, whose lilies were
blazoned on his scutcheon--was _de facto_ monarch of this little island
plot of 45 square miles; and his state was at least equal to his
temporary sway. The accommodation of the Castle was, in truth, but
small; but it was the best that the occasion afforded; the royal palace
consisting of a suite of small apartments vacated for the King's
convenience by the Lieutenant-Governor, Sir G. Carteret, who had removed
to the lower ward. S. Aubin, on the other horn of the bay, was the seat
of the naval power; here lived the families of the officers of the
corsair-squadron then constituting the Royal Navy. The rest of the
King's following was billetted on farm-houses in the parishes nearest to
the town. Yet, as a warning that all was not their own, four frigates
and two line-of-battle ships, with a commission from the rebel
government of London, and flying the broad pennant of Admiral Batten,
cruised between Jersey and Guernsey, never far from sight, although
giving for the most part a wide berth to both the island castles, whose
gunners watched them night and day.
Such was the position of affairs on a Sunday towards the end of
September, a few days later than the events related in the Prologue. The
morning had been wet and windy, and the sacredness of the day had joined
to keep the men of those simple times from all activity save that
connected with the services of religion. But, in spite of the weather,
it had been judged wise and proper that Charles should show himself at
Church on this, the first Sunday of his kingship in Jersey: and he
accordingly attended worship at the Town Church of S. Helier's. The tide
was low, and the royal cortège, muffled in their cloaks, rode or walked
slowly along the causeway, and up the _glacis_ that led to the entrance.
The Rector was absent, his opinions being displeasing to the autocratic
Carteret; but the Rev. Mr. La Cloche, Rector of S. Owen (the Carteret
parish) was in charge; he was the Lieutenant-Governor's private
Chaplain; and under strict orders had made splendid preparation for the
illustrious congregation. The old temple had been swept and garnished.
Laurel boughs and the beautiful flowers and fruits of the season hung
from every arch and decorated every pillar. The aisles were covered with
a thick natural carpet of fragrant rushes; before the pulpit were
chairs for the King and his brother the Duke of York, and the space
they stood on was tapestried with glowing colours. Cushioned tables
supported the gilded bibles and prayer-books for the royal worshippers,
who arrived precisely at eleven followed by their numerous train.
Throwing off his wringing roquelaure Charles entered, plumed hat in
hand, a young man of middle stature, erect and well-knit for his
years--which were but nineteen--and with a countenance which, though
even then wanting in flesh and bloom, was not unpleasing: framed in
natural curls, and showing (to sympathetic observers) a noble and
pleasing dignity often, it must be avowed, contrasting strongly with the
mingled frivolity and cynicism that marked his words. Being in mourning
for the event of January he was clothed in purple velvet without lace or
embroidery. Over his doublet hung a short cloak with a star on the left
breast, under which was a silk scarf, cloak and scarf being all of
purple. The famous ribbon of the Garter round his left knee was the only
bit of other colour visible. James, a few years younger, was similarly
attired. Besides the two Princes the only other Knight of the Garter was
the Earl of Southampton. The rest of the Lords and Gentlemen in Waiting
were also in Court-mourning, and all without the smallest decoration.
After the conclusion of the Service the clergyman ascended the pulpit in
his black gown. He took his text from the second book of Chronicles, c.
35, the end of the 24th verse:--"And all Judah and Jerusalem mourned for
Josiah."
The turn of Mr. La Cloche's discourse may be in great measure
anticipated. Setting forth the heinousness of rebellion and regicide, he
dwelt upon the virtues of the Royal Martyr, his courage, his patience,
his devotion to the Church. As was but natural in the circumstances,
there followed an application to local politics. They were there, he
informed his hearers (as the old lattices, shaken by the gale, rattled
their accompaniment to his monotone) in the character of Englishmen; but
he had to notice that to the existing rulers of England they owed no
obedience. The so-called Parliament which had judged and murdered the
late lamented Monarch, and which now claimed the right of ruling in his
stead, was no divinely appointed head of affairs, not even
representative of one Estate of the realm. Where were the Peers, the
Lords Temporal who had ever formed part of the Government of England,
the Lords Spiritual who represented the Church of Christ? The House of
Lords was now represented to them, there in the presence of the
Honourable Sir George Carteret, Knight and Baronet, whom that High
Chamber had set and appointed to bear rule in that Island. Still more
had they before them their Sovereign, the Anointed of the Lord, without
whose assent all Acts of State must ever be futile and rebellious. Yes,
he was there, that Sacred head, covered and guarded by the loyal hearts
and arms of one--only one--of his Norman Isles.
As the sermon came to an end the storm without showed signs of
abatement; and by the time the blessing had been pronounced and the King
and Prince had mounted their richly caparisoned horses, the wind had
lulled and the September sun gleamed brightly out upon the attentive and
orderly crowd. On returning to the Castle Charles sate down to dinner,
and a select portion of the more loyal Jersey society was admitted into
the Hall to see the King at table. Only two places were set; and after a
Latin grace had been pronounced by the Court-Chaplain, the dishes were
taken, one by one, to the King and his brother, and whatever meats were
approved were taken to the side-board and carved. The royal youths had
stood with uncovered heads while grace was being said; but they replaced
their hats when they sate down, and wore them throughout dinner. After
they had dined the Page-in-waiting, a tall and handsome youth, richly
attired, brought each of them a ewer and basin of parcel-gilt silver,
with a fringed damask napkin; and after they had washed their hands a
butler served them with Spanish and Gascon wines. Dessert having been
placed upon the table and tasted, the princes withdrew; and then the
hungry courtiers sate down to finish the repast.
Retired to his private sitting-room, Charles lay back on a window-seat,
tooth-pick in hand, and looked out indolently on the sea. The waves
scintillated and broke into white foam, among the brown rocks, which
disappeared gradually under the rising tide; and the wings of glancing
gulls shone out against a rain-cloud which was bearing off the recent
storm. Below the dark pall the sky of the horizon glowed bright and
clear as jade over the deepening line of the distant waters. At the
King's feet sat the page who had served the princes at dinner, a bright
rakish-looking young fellow named Thomas Elliot; apparently absorbed in
the preparation of fishing-tackle, he was heedfully watching the face of
his royal master out of the corner of his dare-devil eyes.
"Where is James, Tom?" asked presently the King.
"Gone to feed the hawks, Sir."
"One's own flesh-and-blood is poor company, he finds. By the Lord, Tom,
this is no life for a Christian, be he man or boy. To be lunged round my
good mother at the length of her apron-string seemed but dull work, and
making love to the Grande Mademoiselle was indifferent pastime. But,
odsfish, I would willingly be back there. In this God-forgotten corner
you cannot see a petticoat on any terms, save the farthingale of Dame
Carteret or her ancient housekeeper, as they cross the courtyard to give
corn to the pigeons. James and I went out fishing yesterday, as far as
S. Owen's pond; but no sport had we there but the chance of a broken
head from a Puritan farmer."
"Why, what a plague did they want by laying hands on our anointed pate?"
"Ah! look you," said Charles, in his languid drawl, "We did but beg a
cup of cider from his daughter. James hath a long face and a dull tongue
for a boy of his age; but I warrant I spoke the wench fair for my part;
and in French that had passed muster at Versailles. But 'tis a perverse
and stiff-necked generation. The wench screamed in some language not
understandable by us--Carribee it may be--but faith there was no
difficulty about the farmer's meaning: he conjugated his fists, but we
declined the encounter; and so we were quit as to grammar."
The manner of the speaker was in such dry and droll contrast with his
matter that Elliot had no difficulty in according the sympathetic smile
which is the tribute of the jovial and manly sycophant to a superior he
wishes to please.
"And this is then, the escapade for which the _gros bonnets_ down there
have determined that you are not to stir out of this charming retreat
without a guard, or suffer your sacred person to meet the air of the
island without the hedge of an escort. But I have a plan to defeat
them...."
Whatever projects the young men might be disposed to form for the
purpose of eluding the prudent precautions of their seniors were for
the moment cut short by a knocking at the door, which made them start
aside like the disturbed conspirators that they were.
"Quick! vanish," muttered the King sharply; "behind the bureau there. If
the comer be Nicholas let him not see thee here. He bears thee no good
will."
As Elliot hurriedly obeyed, the door slowly opened, giving entrance to
the Rector of S. Owen. The worthy clergyman still wore the gown and
bands in which he had preached in the forenoon, and carried in his hand
the four-cornered but boardless college-cap which formed part of the
clerical costume of those days. Bestowing upon the youthful King a look
whose awestruck humility was at curious variance with the respective
ages and appearance of the two, and making an awkward obeisance, Mr. La
Cloche spoke:--
"I crave your pardon, Sir. Receiving no reply to my knock I presumed to
enter, deeming mine errand an excuse."
Charles pointed to a seat and drew himself up with dignity:--
"It needs no further excuse, reverend Sir, say on, and fear nothing." La
Cloche seated himself on the corner of the chair.
"It is my humble duty to warn your Majesty that Jersey is no suitable
place for your residence," he said.
"We are very much of your mind," answered Charles, "but how made you the
mighty discovery?"
"I have been dining," answered the clergyman, "in company with the
Honourable Sir Edward Nicholas, Knight, Secretary of State to your
Majesty. Certain of your Majesty's affectionate servants and
well-wishers were of the party, as also the Lieutenant-Governor, who
was the host. The discourse was grave; and albeit without permission of
the gentlemen--yet, in virtue of mine office, I hope I but anticipate
their humble duty to your Majesty, if I take upon myself to lay their
thoughts before you."
"And for your own part, Sir, as a Jerseyman having, both by religion and
as a Member of the States, the means of knowing what the people think,
you would fain join your own private word to those who are refusing an
asylum to Charles Stuart in the dominions of his fathers. You had better
let them speak for themselves."
The clergyman shuffled in his uneasy seat. The perspicacity of the young
man--it is a part of a Prince's stock-in-trade--had taken him by
surprise.
"I am an old man," he faltered, "unversed in affairs of State. If it be
true, however, that the Lord Jermyn...."
"Our mother's trusted councillor, Mr. Rector! What of my Lord Jermyn?
Thou hast not said enough--or, by God! thou hast said too much."
The Chaplain's island temper hardened under menace, even from the Lord's
Anointed. What he felt he did not indeed care to lay bare: yet the
upshot he would tell. The King's recent exploit in the parish of which
he was Rector had come to his ears, garnished and exaggerated, perhaps;
and he was determined to get rid of such visitors if he could. The news
from France was an occasion, and he gladly used it. Lord Jermyn, it
seemed, had been talking openly--and not for the first time--of selling
the Channel Islands to France; and his connection with the Queen made
men suspect that he had not entertained such a design without high
sanction. On the other hand the Rector knew that Carteret would sooner
cede the Island over which he was set to Cromwell than see it occupied
by the French. The King would be in obvious danger, and he had
determined, under that excuse, to endeavour to dispose the King's mind
towards a removal which he himself, on other grounds, considered highly
desirable. Charles listened to all the clergyman had to say, with
impatience thinly veiled by good breeding. When the speaker came to a
pause, the King said, with a kinder manner, "Thou hast done well, and
hast given no just cause of offence to anyone. Mr. Secretary is an
approved friend: but I need not remind your Reverence of the prayer of
the Psalmist: 'Let not his precious balms break mine head!'"
The King's manner indicated that the conference was at an end. He wished
to get rid of the Rector, not only because the good man was "boring"
him, as would be said now-a-days, but because he had but little trust in
Tom Elliot's discretion, and thought that at any moment the page might
be led to break forth from what must needs be an irksome confinement.
Moreover, the King knew that, sooner or later, he would have to undergo
a more serious lecture from some of his councillors, and it was an
object with him to make some inquiries in confidential quarters and
devise a course of speech if not of action.
But the worthy Rector was, as he said, unversed in the ways of the
great; and the young King's affable manner had drawn him into
forgetfulness of any little lessons of etiquette that he might have ever
learned. Instead of departing on the King's hint, he let his tongue wag
afresh.
"Alack, Sir! may your Majesty's prayers be heard. And may what I have
done breed myself no harm! For what saith the Wise Man? 'Burden not
thyself above thy power while thou livest, and have no fellowship with
one that is mightier than thyself: for how agree the kettle and earthen
pot together?'"
"It was well said of the Wise Man," observed the King demurely. "And
your Reverence will do well to consider the words that follow, if my
memory do not deceive me;--'If thou be invited of a great man, _withdraw
thyself_!'"
The underlined words, being pronounced with a voice changed to a sharp
and sudden tone from the solemn snuffle into which the King had slid in
first quoting _Ecclesiasticus_, were too much for Elliot, who broke into
an irrepressible giggle behind the bureau. Mr. La Cloche started at the
sound; then, recollecting himself, retired with a bow into which he
threw a look of surprise not unmixed with silent reproach.
Still laughing, the page emerged from his ambush, knocking the dust from
his doublet with his hand, and eyeing the door as it closed after the
retreating Rector.
"I'll wager he thinks thou wert a wench, Tom," cried Charles; "but tell
me, how much of the worthy parson's discourse didst thou hear?"
"As much as you desire, Sir, and no more," was the discreet reply. "But
it is true that one is come from France who knows Lord Jermyn."
"Jermyn," said the King, half soliloquising, "is a son of a----; and I
would as lief run him through the body as I would open an oyster. But
that is neither here nor there; such pleasures are not for Kings." He
sate thinking for a few minutes, and then, looking up, added, "Go, Tom,
and tell Nicholas and the rest that I would see them here."
The page departed, presently returning to introduce four gentlemen,
after which, he again left the room and shut the door, which it would
be his office to keep against all intrusion while the conference
lasted.
One of the visitors appeared to take precedence; a tall, high-featured
man, with a stoop and a receding chin. This was Lord Hopton, one of the
most respectable of Charles's followers; an honourable, stupid,
middle-aged nobleman, who could never marshal his own thoughts and who,
necessarily, spoke without persuading others. The other Englishmen were
Nicholas, the Secretary of State, and the old Lord Cottington. The
fourth gentleman was Sir George Carteret, the Lieutenant-Governor, a
bluff sea-faring man, little used to obey, yet anxious, in that
presence, to be deferential; with an unmistakable pugnacity varnished
over with a gloss of _ruse_. There being but one arm-chair in the room
Charles took his seat upon it, and awaited the advice of his friends who
perforce remained standing.
"I have sent for you, my Lords and gentlemen, to confer on the matter
brought me by Mr. La Cloche, the Rector of St. Owen, and Chaplain to Sir
George Carteret."
Hopton opened the conference, speaking in a dull, precise manner, from
the lips only, hardly opening his teeth:--
"May it please you Sir, Mr. La Cloche hath reported to me, as I met him
returning from your presence, that while he was imparting to your
Highness--I may say, your Majesty--a matter of great moment, there was
one hid in the room that played the eavesdropper. Before proceeding
farther I would humbly ask...."
"Hold there, my Lord," broke in Charles. "Remember, I pray you,
that--howbeit our present power, by the malice of our enemies, be
brought to a narrow pass, we are still, by the grace of God your King,
of full age, moreover, and no longer to be schooled. As touching what
anyone may have heard here, by our consent, we need answer to no man;
neither to Mr. La Cloche nor to your Lordship. There is, however, no one
but ourselves in this room, as you may clearly see. As to the matter of
the priest's discourse, we opine that it is already known to you. It is
of that matter that we now seek to know your minds."
The words were not ungracefully uttered; but Hopton found no immediate
answer. He only knit his narrow brow and held his peace. Carteret,
however, stepped briskly forward; and would perhaps have committed some
indiscretion had not Nicholas plucked him by the cloak. "By your leave,
Mr. Lieutenant," said the jovial lawyer, "I would say an humble word to
his Majesty, with the freedom of an ancient servant." His round face and
merry eye were rendered serious by the resolution of a full-lipped yet
firm mouth. "Sir!" said he, turning to the young King with a look in
which the _bonhomie_ of an indulgent Mentor was blended with genuine
respect, "it will, no doubt, seem to your Majesty both meet and proper
that we should not leave a meddlesome parson to let you know that our
faithful hearts have been sorely exercised by that which is newly come
to us out of France. Not to stay on sundry general advertisements and
rumours that have reached us--and which seemed to glance at a very
exalted personage--I mean, more particularly, what we have received this
morning from a very discreet and knowing gentleman (now residing at
Paris) of what he hath learned from persons of honour conversant in the
secrets of the Court there."
"If it be her Majesty the Queen that you fear to name, Mr. Secretary,"
interrupted the King, "it is but vain to fence. Do your duty, as you
have ever done."
"With your Majesty's leave, I will name no one, save it be one Mr.
Cooly, Secretary to the Lord Jermyn, whom your Majesty, doubtless,
graciously recollects. Our informant was plainly asked by this
gentleman, how the islanders would take it if there should be an
overture of giving them up to the French."
"This is but talk," observed the King.
"Nay Sir, there is yet more. This letter, which is come to one of us in
cypher, goes on to tell that it hath been heard, from a very good
source, that the chief mover herein is to be made Duke and Peer of
France, and receive 200,000 pistoles, for which he is to deliver up not
Jersey only but Guernsey, Aurigny, and Serk. Nay, further, his Eminence
Cardinal Mazarine hath taken up ships for the transport of 2,000 French
soldiers, nominally for the service of your Majesty, actually for the
service whereof we are now speaking."
"Let them come," said Charles. "We will put ourself at their head and
fall upon Guernsey, that nest of Roundheads where Osborne and honest
Baldwin Wake have borne so long the brunt of insult and privation."
"Under your favour, Sir," broke in Carteret, "you would be bubbled. I
have seen and spoke with a known creature of my Lord Jermyn's; and I
know well that the design of the French is--so to speak--to clap your
Majesty under the hatches, and to steer the vessel on their own account.
Mr. La Cloche shall answer for this," he added in a lower tone.
"By your leave again, Sir George," put in the beaming Secretary, "we
lawyers are to speak by our calling. It is not indeed, Sir, that my Lord
Jermyn hath made direct overtures to us. And 'tis to be thought that in
this last respect the messenger spoke but according to his own
understanding."
"I would cut every throat in the island," cried Carteret, with savage
interruption....
"Sir George Cartwright's zeal hath eaten him up," said Nicholas with a
twinkle of his merry eye. "Let it suffice that the concurrent
information of divers persons (and they strangers to one another),
together with the Lord Jermyn's total neglect of the island in regard of
the provisions that he hath not sent as promised nor repaid sums of
money lent to your service by the people, have led us to sign a paper of
association for which we shall crave your gracious approval. We doubt
not you will agree with us that the delivery of the islands to the
French is not consistent with the duty and fidelity of Englishmen, and
would be an irreparable loss to the nation besides being an indelible
dishonour to the Crown."
As Charles took the paper handed him for perusal by Nicholas, a flush
arose upon his swarthy countenance.
"Enough said, my Lords and gentlemen! We need not that any should
instruct us as to our duty."
"We trust not," cried Carteret, bluffly. "If the French come here we
shall give them a sour welcome; and as to my Lord the Governor, he will
find," and he slipped in his eagerness into his native tongue, "that he
has made _le marché de la peau de l'ours qui ne seroit pas encore tué_."
Presently the little Council broke up. The King, after glancing at the
paper of association, consented that Lord Hopton--in whose diplomatic
abilities he perhaps did not feel much confidence--should proceed at
once to the Hague, and lay the case before the States General of Holland
as the power most interested--after England--in sifting and, if need
were, opposing the designs of France. Meanwhile the articles of the
association were not to be divulged; the whole affair being kept a
profound secret and mystery of State.
Somewhat relieved, the associates then retired from the presence of the
yawning King, and passed down the little corridor. Here they found
Elliot keeping watch, and pacing innocently to and fro. And the
graceless page bowed their Honours down the stairs, without betraying by
his manner anything to suggest--which was, nevertheless, the simple
truth--that he had been attentively listening to as much of their recent
conversation as could be gathered through the imperfect channel afforded
by the key-hole of the door. Carteret cursed La Cloche's officious
meddling all the way to his own quarters, and on arriving there sent a
sergeant to the unfortunate clergyman, who deported him to France by the
next boat that sailed.
On returning to the room, Elliot found Charles walking up and down the
narrow floor of his room in evident excitement.
"Tom," said the King, as the page entered, "what is to do here? It seems
that I am not to be master even in this little island of Hop o' my
Thumb. They lord it over me even as they did when I was here before, as
Prince of Wales _in partibus_."
"Why then," answered the audacious youth, "I would even show them a
clean pair of heels, and take refuge with the Scots."
"The Scots who sold my father!"
"The Scots, Sir, of whom I am one," cried the page, the hot blood of a
race of Border-Barons rising to his forehead. "Am I and mine to be
confounded with a crew of cuckoldy Presbyterians? I will not listen to
any one who says so, King or no King."
And the malapert youth flung out of the room, while his wearied
master--not unaccustomed to such outbreaks--lounged into the dining room
and called for his supper.