Madame Bonaventure had already paid considerable sums to the two
extortioners, but she resisted their last application; in consequence of
which she received a monition from Sir Giles Mompesson, to the effect
that, in a month's time, her license would be withdrawn, and her house
shut up, unless, in the interim, she consented to make amends to himself
and his co-patentee, Sir Francis Mitchell, by payment of the sum in
question, together with a further sum, equal to it in amount, by way of
forfeit; thus doubling the original demand.
Our pretty hostess, it would seem, had placed herself in an awkward
predicament by her temerity. Sir Giles was not a man to threaten idly,
as all who had incurred his displeasure experienced to their cost. His
plan was to make himself feared; and he was inexorable, as fate itself,
to a creditor. He ever exacted the full penalty of his bond. In this
instance, according to his own notion, he had acted with great leniency;
and certainly, judged by his customary mode of proceeding in such cases,
he had shown some little indulgence. In this line of conduct he had been
mainly influenced by his partner, who, not being insensible to the
attractions of the fair hostess, hoped to win her favour by a show of
consideration. But though Madame Bonaventure was willing enough, for her
own purposes, to encourage Sir Francis Mitchell's attentions (she
detested him in her secret heart), she by no means relied upon him for
security. A more powerful friend was held in reserve, whom she meant to
produce at the last moment; and, consequently, she was not so ill at
ease as she otherwise would have been, though by no means free from
misgiving.
Sir Giles Mompesson was a terrible enemy, and seldom thwarted in his
purpose. That she knew. But no man was more keenly alive to his own
interest than he; and she persuaded herself he would find it to his
advantage not to molest her: in which case she was safe. Of Sir Francis
Mitchell she had less apprehension; for, though equally mischievous and
malevolent with his partner, he was far feebler of purpose, and for the
most part governed by him. Besides, she felt she had the amorous knight
in her toils, and could easily manage him if he were alone.
So the case stood with respect to our pretty hostess; but, before
proceeding further, it may be well to give a more complete description
of the two birds of prey by whom she was threatened with beak and talon.
The master-spirit of the twain was undoubtedly Sir Giles Mompesson.
Quick in conception of villainy, he was equally daring in execution.
How he had risen to his present bad eminence no one precisely knew;
because, with the craft and subtlety that distinguished him, he laid his
schemes so deeply, and covered his proceedings with so thick a veil,
that they had been rarely detected. Report, however, spoke of him as a
usurer of the vilest kind, who wrung exorbitant interest from needy
borrowers,--who advanced money to expectant heirs, with the intention of
plundering them of their inheritance,--and who resorted to every trick
and malpractice permitted by the law to benefit himself at his
neighbour's expense. These were bad enough, but even graver accusations
were made against him. It was whispered that he had obtained fraudulent
possession of deeds and family papers, which had enabled him to wrest
estates from their rightful owners; and some did not scruple to add to
these charges that he had forged documents to carry out his nefarious
designs. Be this as it may, from comparative poverty he speedily rose to
wealth; and, as his means increased, so his avaricious schemes were
multiplied and extended. His earlier days were passed in complete
obscurity, none but the neediest spendthrift or the most desperate
gambler knowing where he dwelt, and every one who found him out in his
wretched abode near the Marshalsea had reason to regret his visit. Now
he was well enough known by many a courtly prodigal, and his large
mansion near Fleet Bridge (it was said of him that he always chose the
neigbourhood of a prison for his dwelling) was resorted to by the town
gallants whose necessities or extravagance compelled them to obtain
supplies at exorbitant interest. Lavish in his expenditure on occasions,
Sir Giles was habitually so greedy and penurious, that he begrudged
every tester he expended. He wished to keep up a show of hospitality
without cost, and secretly pleased himself by thinking that he made his
guests pay for his entertainments, and even for his establishment. His
servants complained of being half-starved, though he was constantly at
war with them for their wastefulness and riot. He made, however, a great
display of attendants, inasmuch as he had a whole retinue of myrmidons
at his beck and call; and these, as before observed, were well paid.
They were the crows that followed the vultures, and picked the bones of
the spoil when their ravening masters had been fully glutted.
In the court of Star-Chamber, as already remarked, Sir Giles Mompesson
found an instrument in every way fitted to his purposes; and he worked
it with terrible effect, as will be shown hereafter. With him it was at
once a weapon to destroy, and a shield to protect. This court claimed "a
superlative power not only to take causes from other courts and punish
them there, but also to punish offences secondarily, when other courts
have punished them." Taking advantage of this privilege, when a suit
was commenced against him elsewhere, Sir Giles contrived to remove it to
the Star-Chamber, where, being omnipotent with clerks and counsel, he
was sure of success,--the complaints being so warily contrived, the
examinations so adroitly framed, and the interrogatories so numerous and
perplexing, that the defendant, or delinquent, as he was indifferently
styled, was certain to be baffled and defeated. "The sentences of this
court," it has been said by one intimately acquainted with its practice,
and very favourably inclined to it, "strike to the root of men's
reputations, and many times of their estates;" and, again, it was a rule
with it, that the prosecutor "was ever intended to be favoured." Knowing
this as well as the high legal authority from whom we have quoted, Sir
Giles ever placed himself in the favoured position, and, with the aid of
this iniquitous tribunal, blasted many a fair reputation, and consigned
many a victim of its injustice to the Fleet, there to rot till he paid
him the utmost of his demands, or paid the debt of nature.
In an age less corrupt and venal than that under consideration, such a
career could not have long continued without check. But in the time of
James the First, from the neediness of the monarch himself, and the
rapacity of his minions and courtiers and their satellites,--each
striving to enrich himself, no matter how--a thousand abuses, both of
right and justice, were tolerated or connived at, crime stalking abroad
unpunished. The Star-Chamber itself served the king as, in a less
degree, it served Sir Giles Mompesson, and others of the same stamp, as
a means of increasing his revenue; half the fines mulcted from those who
incurred its censure or its punishments being awarded to the crown. Thus
nice inquiries were rarely made, unless a public example was needed,
when the wrongdoer was compelled to disgorge his plunder. But this was
never done till the pear was fully ripe. Sir Giles, however, had no
apprehensions of any such result in his case. Like a sly fox, or rather
like a crafty wolf, he was too confident in his own cunning and
resources to fear being caught in such a trap.
His title was purchased, and he reaped his reward in the consequence it
gave him. Sir Francis Mitchell acted likewise; and it was about this
time that the connection between the worthy pair commenced. Hitherto
they had been in opposition, and though very different in temperament
and in modes of proceeding, they had one aim in common; and recognizing
great merit in each other, coupled with a power of mutual assistance,
they agreed to act in concert. Sir Francis was as cautious and timid as
Sir Giles was daring and inflexible: the one being the best contriver of
a scheme, and the other the fittest to carry it out. Sir Francis
trembled at his own devices and their possible consequences: Sir Giles
adopted his schemes, if promising, and laughed at the difficulties and
dangers that beset them. The one was the head; the other the arm. Not
that Sir Giles lacked the ability to weave as subtle a web of deceit as
his partner; but each took his line. It saved time. The plan of
licensing and inspecting taverns and hotels had originated with Sir
Francis, and very profitable it proved. But Sir Giles carried it out
much further than his partner had proposed, or thought prudent.
And they were as different in personal appearance, as in mental
qualities and disposition. Mompesson was the dashing eagle; Mitchell the
sorry kite. Sir Francis was weakly, emaciated in frame; much given to
sensual indulgence; and his body conformed to his timorous organization.
His shrunken shanks scarcely sufficed to support him; his back was bent;
his eyes blear; his head bald; and his chin, which was continually
wagging, clothed with a scanty yellow beard, shaped like a stiletto,
while his sandy moustachios were curled upward. He was dressed in the
extremity of the fashion, and affected the air of a young court gallant.
His doublet, hose, and mantle were ever of the gayest and most fanciful
hues, and of the richest stuffs; he wore a diamond brooch in his beaver,
and sashes, tied like garters, round his thin legs, which were utterly
destitute of calf. Preposterously large roses covered his shoes; his
ruff was a "treble-quadruple-dedalion;" his gloves richly embroidered; a
large crimson satin purse hung from his girdle; and he was scented with
powders and pulvilios. This withered coxcomb affected the mincing gait
of a young man; and though rather an object of derision than admiration
with the fair sex, persuaded himself they were all captivated by him.
The vast sums he so unjustly acquired did not long remain in his
possession, but were dispersed in ministering to his follies and
depravity. Timorous he was by nature, as we have said, but cruel and
unrelenting in proportion to his cowardice; and where an injury could be
securely inflicted, or a prostrate foe struck with impunity, he never
hesitated for a moment. Sir Giles himself was scarcely so malignant and
implacable.
A strong contrast to this dastardly debauchee was offered by the bolder
villain. Sir Giles Mompesson was a very handsome man, with a striking
physiognomy, but dark and sinister in expression. His eyes were black,
singularly piercing, and flashed with the fiercest fire when kindled by
passion. A finely-formed aquiline nose gave a hawk-like character to his
face; his hair was coal-black (though he was no longer young), and hung
in long ringlets over his neck and shoulders. He wore the handsomely cut
beard and moustache subsequently depicted in the portraits of Vandyke,
which suited the stern gravity of his countenance. Rich, though sober in
his attire, he always affected a dark colour, being generally habited in
a doublet of black quilted silk, Venetian hose, and a murrey-coloured
velvet mantle. His conical hat was ornamented with a single black
ostrich feather; and he carried a long rapier by his side, in the use of
which he was singularly skilful; being one of Vincentio Saviolo's best
pupils. Sir Giles was a little above the middle height, with a well
proportioned athletic figure; and his strength and address were such,
that there seemed good reason for his boast when he declared, as he
often did, "that he feared no man living, in fair fight, no, nor any two
men."
Sir Giles had none of the weaknesses of his partner. Temperate in his
living, he had never been known to commit an excess at table; nor were
the blandishments or lures of the fair sex ever successfully spread for
him. If his arm was of iron, his heart seemed of adamant, utterly
impenetrable by any gentle emotion. It was affirmed, and believed, that
he had never shed a tear. His sole passion appeared to be the
accumulation of wealth; unattended by the desire to spend it. He
bestowed no gifts. He had no family, no kinsmen, whom he cared to
acknowledge. He stood alone--a hard, grasping man: a bond-slave of
Mammon.
When it pleased him, Sir Giles Mompesson could play the courtier, and
fawn and gloze like the rest. A consummate hypocrite, he easily assumed
any part he might be called upon to enact; but the tone natural to him
was one of insolent domination and bitter raillery. He sneered at all
things human and divine; and there was mockery in his laughter, as well
as venom in his jests. His manner, however, was not without a certain
cold and grave dignity; and he clothed himself, like his purposes, in
inscrutable reserve, on occasions requiring it. So ominous was his
presence, that many persons got out of his way, fearing to come in
contact with him, or give him offence; and the broad walk at Paul's was
sometimes cleared as he took his way along it, followed by his band of
tipstaves.
If this were the case with persons who had no immediate ground of
apprehension from him, how much terror his sombre figure must have
inspired, when presented, as it was, to Madame Bonaventure, with the
aspect of a merciless creditor, armed with full power to enforce his
claims, and resolved not to abate a jot of them, will be revealed to the
reader in our next chapter.