knew you before this Jesuit; to One who was leading you onward before he
came across your path; to One who gave you high and noble qualities,
without which the Jesuit could have given you nothing; to One whom you
have professed to love; to One for whose Divine Voice you have desired
to listen. Johnny, will you listen no longer for it?"
He never forgot her, standing before him with her hands clasped and her
eyes raised to his,--the flush of eager speaking on her face,--those
great eyes, moistened again with tears, that pierced through him to his
very soul,--her trembling lip,--the irresistible nobleness of her whole
figure,--her winning manner, through which the love she had confessed
for him spoke in every part. He never saw her again but once--then in
how different a posture and scene; and the beauty of this sight never
went out of his life, but it produced no effect upon his purpose; indeed
how could it, when his purpose was not so much a part of him as he was a
part of it? He looked at her in silence, and his love and admiration
spoke out so unmistakably in his look that Mary never afterwards doubted
that he had loved her. He had not power to explain his conduct; he
could not have told himself why he acted as he did. Amid the
distracting purposes which tore his heart in twain he could say nothing
but,--
"It may not be so bad as you think."
Mary gave him her hand, turned from him, and went into the house; and he
let her go--her of whom the sight must have been to him as that of an
angel--he let her go without an effort to stay her, even to prolong the
sight. His horses were waiting, and one of his servants would follow
with his mails; he mounted and rode away. The sun had set in a cloud,
and the autumn evening was dark and gloomy, yet he rode along without
any appearance of depression, steadily and quietly, like a man going
about some business he has long expected to perform. I cannot even say
he was sad: that moment had come to him which from his boyhood he had
looked forward to. Now at last he could prove, at any rate to himself,
that he was equal to that effort which it had been his ideal to attempt.
When Inglesant reached Oxford he sought out the Jesuit and found him
alone. The royal affairs were at the lowest ebb. Since the battle of
Naseby the King had done little but wander about like a fugitive. He
was now at Oxford; but it was doubtful whether he could stay there in
safety through the winter, and certainly he would not be able to do so
after the campaign began, unless some change in his fortunes meanwhile
occurred. All this Inglesant knew only too well. The ruin of the royal
cause, entailing his own ruin and that of all his friends, was too
palpable to need description. The Jesuit therefore at once proceeded to
the means which were prepared to remedy this disastrous state of things.
The Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, the Duke of Ormond, had, with the
consent of the King, concluded a truce with the Irish, who, after long
years of oppression, spoliation and misery, had, a few years before,
broken out suddenly in rebellion, and massacred hundreds of the
unprepared Protestants, men, women, and children, under circumstances,
as is admitted by Catholics, and is perhaps scarcely to be wondered at,
of frightful cruelty. A feeling of intense hatred and dread of these
rebels had consequently filled the minds of the English Protestants,
both Royalists and Parliamentarians; a feeling in which horror at
murderous savages--for as such they not unnaturally regarded the
Irish--was united with the old hatred and fear of popish massacres and
cruelties. The Parliament had remonstrated with the King for his
supineness in not concluding the war by the extirpation of these
monsters, and when at last a truce was concluded with them, the anger of
the Parliament knew no bounds, and even loyal Churchmen, although they
acknowledged the hard necessity which obliged the King to such a step,
yet lamented it as one of the severest misfortunes which had befallen
them. The King hoped by this peace not only to be able to recall the
soldiers who had been engaged against the rebels to his own assistance,
but also to procure a detachment of Irish soldiers for the same purpose
from the popish leaders. But the popish demands being very excessive,
Ormond had not been able to advance far towards a settled peace, when,
in the previous spring, the Lord Herbert (afterwards Earl of Glamorgan),
the son of the Marquis of Worcester, of a devoted Catholic family and of
great influence, announced his intention of going to Ireland on private
business, and offered to assist the King with his influence among the
Catholics. He had married a daughter of the great Irish house of
Thomond, and undoubtedly possessed more influence in that island among
the Papists than any other of the royal party.
The King eagerly accepted his assistance, and Glamorgan afterwards
produced a commission, undeniably signed by the King, in which he gives
him ample powers to treat with the Papists, and to grant them any terms
whatever which he should find necessary, consistent with the royal
supremacy and the safety of the Protestants. In this extraordinary
commission he creates him Earl of Glamorgan, bestows on him the Garter
and George, promises him the Princess Elizabeth as a wife for his son,
gives him blank patents of nobility to fill up at his pleasure, and
promises him on the word of a King to endorse all his actions. The only
limit which appears to have been set to the Earl was an obligation to
inform the Lord Lieutenant of all his proceedings; and the only doubt
respecting this commission appears to be whether it was filled up before
the King signed it, or written on a blank signed by the King, in
accordance with conclusions previously agreed upon between him and the
Earl.
The Earl left Oxford for Ireland, where the nuncio from the Pope had
arrived, and proceeded in his negotiations with this dignitary and the
Supreme Council of the rebel Papists and Irish--negotiations in which he
found endless difficulties and delays, owing chiefly to a mutual
distrust of all parties towards each other;--a distrust of the King not
unnatural on the part of the Irish, who knew that nothing but the utmost
distress induced the King to treat with them at all, and that to treat
with them, or at least to make any important concessions to them, was to
alienate the whole of the English Protestants--both Royalists and
Parliamentarians--to an implacable degree. The Irish demanded perfect
freedom of religion; the possession of all Cathedrals and Churches; and
that all the strong places in Ireland, including Dublin, should be in
the hands at any rate of English Roman Catholics; that the English
Papists should be relieved from all disabilities; and that the King in
the first Parliament, or settlement of the nation, should ratify and
secure all these advantages to them. In return for this the Pope
offered a large present of money, and the Earl was promised 10,000 men
from the rebel forces--3000 immediately for the relief of Chester, and
7000 to follow before the end of March.
In order to realize how repulsive such a proceeding as this would appear
to the whole English nation, it is necessary to recollect the repeated
professions of attachment to Protestantism on the part of the King, and
of his determination to repress Popery; the intense hatred of Popery on
the part of the Puritan party, and of most of the Church people; and the
horror caused in all classes by the barbarities of the Irish
massacre--something similar to the feeling in England during the Sepoy
rebellion. No Irish ever came into England, and the English knew them
only by report as ferocious, half-naked savages, to which state, indeed,
centuries of oppression had reduced them. So universal was this
feeling, that the King dared only proceed in the most secret manner; and
in a letter to Glamorgan he acknowledges that the circumstances are such
that he cannot do more than hint at his wishes, promising him again, on
the word of a King, to ratify all his actions, and to regard his
proceedings with additional gratitude if they were conducted without
insisting nicely on positive written orders, which it was impossible to
give.
Communications between the Earl and the Court continued to be kept up,
and the former represented the progress of the negotiations as
satisfactory; but the state of the King's affairs became so pressing,
especially with regard to the relief of Chester, which was reduced to
great distress, that it was absolutely necessary that some envoy should
be sent to Ireland to hasten the treaty, and if possible assist the Earl
to convince the Supreme Council of the good faith of the King; and it
was also as important that an equally qualified agent should go to
Chester to prepare the leaders there to receive the Irish contingent,
and to encourage them to hold out longer in expectation of it.
"There is no man so suited to both these missions as yourself," said the
Jesuit. "You are a King's servant and a Protestant, and you will
therefore have weight with the rebel Council in Ireland. Still more, as
you are a Churchman and a favourite with the Church people--especially
since the death of the Archbishop--you will be able to prepare the mind
of the Lord Biron and the commanders at Chester to receive the Irish
troops favourably; they will believe that you act by the King's
direction, and will not know anything of the concessions which have been
made in Ireland. You are ready to undertake it?"
Inglesant hesitated for a moment, but then he said simply and without
effort,--
"I am ready; I will do my best: but there are some things I should like
to ask."
"Ask what you will," said the Jesuit, quickly; "everything I know I will
tell you."
"As a Churchman," said Inglesant, "if I lend myself to this plan I shall
be considered by all Churchmen to have betrayed my religion, and to have
done my best to ruin my country as a Protestant country. Is not this
the case?"
"Probably," said the Jesuit, after a moment's hesitation.
"Shall I have any authority direct from the King for what I do?"
"I have advised not," said the Jesuit; "but His Majesty thinks that you
will need some other warrant, both in Ireland and at Chester, than the
mere fact of your belonging to the Household. He therefore intends to
give you an interview, and also a written commission signed by himself."
"And in case the whole scheme miscarries and becomes public?" said
Inglesant.
"I cannot answer," said the Jesuit, "for what course His Majesty may be
advised to take; but in your case it will, of course, be your duty to
preserve the strictest silence as to what has passed between the King
and yourself."
"Then if I fall into the hands of the Parliament," Inglesant said, "my
connection with the King will be repudiated?"
"His Majesty pledges his word as a King," began the Jesuit.
Inglesant made a slight impatient motion with his head, which the other
saw, and instantly stopped.
He raised his eyes to Inglesant, and looked fully in his face for a
moment, then, with that supreme instinct which taught him at once how to
deal with men, he said:--
"If the necessities of the State demand it, all knowledge of this affair
will be denied by the King."
"That is all I have to say," said Inglesant; "I am ready to go."
The next day Inglesant saw the King. The interview was very short. The
King referred him to Father St. Clare for all instructions, telling him
distinctly that all the instructions he would receive from him would
have his approval, urging him to use all his efforts to assist Lord
Glamorgan, but at all events to lose no time, after seeing his Lordship,
in getting to Chester, and, when there, to use every exertion to induce
the Cavaliers to receive the Irish troops, as they, no doubt, would be
glad in their extremity to do. He received a few lines written by the
King in his presence and signed, requiring all to whom he might show
them to give credit to what he might tell them as if it came direct from
the King. The King gave him his hand to kiss, and dismissed him.
Inglesant lost no time in reaching Bristol, taking with him all that
remained of his money, considerable sums of which he had from time to
time lent to the King. He found a vessel sailing for Waterford, and was
fortunate enough to reach that harbour without loss of time. He did not
stay by the ship while she went up to the city, but landed at Dunmore,
and immediately took horses to Kilkenny. There he found the Earl and
the Papal Nuncio engaged in negotiations with each other, and with the
Supreme Council, the principal difficulty being an intense distrust of
the King. The Nuncio, John Baptista Renuccini, Archbishop of Fermo, was
of a noble family of Florence, and of long experience at the Court of
Rome. He appeared pleased to see Inglesant, and came to visit him
privately at his lodgings, where he entered into a long discourse with
him, endeavouring to find out the real standing and authority of the
Earl, and whether the King could be trusted or not. Inglesant, who
spoke both French and Italian as well as Latin, was able to enter very
fully and freely into the state of affairs with him. He told him that
the only way to gain any advantages which the Catholics might have in
view was to assist the King promptly and effectively at once; that the
King could only be enabled to fulfil his promises by being placed in a
strong and independent position; and that if, by delays and half
measures, the help was postponed till it was too late, or the
negotiations became publicly known, the King would be powerless to
fulfil his promises, and would be compelled to repudiate them
altogether. He submitted to the Nuncio that, even supposing the King's
good faith was doubtful, he was much more likely to be favourable to the
Catholics, when restored to power, than the Parliament and the Puritan
faction would ever be; he reminded the Nuncio of the great favour and
leniency which had ever been shown to the Romanists during the King's
reign, and he spoke warmly of the base ingratitude which had been shown
to the King by that party among the Catholics who had intrigued with the
Parliament against a King, very many of whose troubles had arisen from
his leniency towards their religion.
The Nuncio was evidently much impressed with Inglesant's arguments, and
was very courteous in his expressions of regard, assuring Inglesant that
he should not forget to mention so excellent and intelligent a friend of
the Romish Church in Rome itself, and that he hoped he might some time
see him there, and receive him into closer relations to that glorious
and tender mother.
Inglesant saw the Earl immediately after this interview; he found him
perplexed and discouraged with the difficulties of his position. He
introduced Inglesant to several of the Supreme Council, and many days
were taken up in argument and negotiations. At last both Inglesant and
the Earl agreed that the most important thing for him to do was to get
to Chester without loss of time, as the delays and negotiations were so
great that there was imminent danger that the city would be surrendered
before the treaty could be completed. Inglesant therefore left Kilkenny
immediately, and, posting to Dublin without loss of time, embarked for
Anglesea, and arrived there on the 29th of December. Here he procured
horses, and, crossing the island, he passed over into Flintshire and
proceeded towards Chester. It was exceedingly unfortunate that he had
not arrived a few days before, as the Parliamentary army, having lately
received a reinforcement of Colonel Booth and the Lancashire forces who
had just reduced Lathom House, had now entirely surrounded the city,
guarding with sufficient force every gate and avenue, causing a great
scarcity of provisions, and rendering it almost impossible for any one
to gain admission to the garrison.
*CHAPTER XII.*
Lord Biron and some of the commissioners who were associated with him in
the defence of the city were at supper in a long, low room in the castle
on the evening of the 12th of January. Lord Biron and more than one of
the noblemen and gentlemen then in Chester had their ladies with them,
but they lived apart, mostly at Sir Francis Gammul's house in the Lower
Bridge Street, opposite to St. Olave's Church, and were provided for
rather better than the rest; but the commanders partook of exactly the
same food as the rest of the besieged, and their supper that night
consisted of nothing but boiled wheat, with water to drink. The
conversation was very flat, for the condition of the besieged was
becoming utterly hopeless; and although they had rejected several offers
of capitulation, they foresaw that it could not be long before they
should be obliged to submit. The town had been singularly free from
discontent and mutiny, and Lord Biron's high position and renown made
him particularly fitted for the post he filled; but he felt that the
task before him was well-nigh hopeless. He sat buried in thought, few
of the other gentlemen present spoke, and they were on the point of
separating, Lord Biron to make the round of the walls, when a servant
came up from the court below, saying that there was a man below in the
dress of a miner, who said he was Mr. Inglesant, the King's gentleman,
and wished to see his lordship.
"Who did you say?" exclaimed Lord Biron, and the others crowded round in
excitement, "Inglesant, the King's Esquire?"
"John Inglesant."
"The Esquire of the Body?"
"No doubt from Oxford and the King."
"How could he have got in?"
"In the dress of a miner, he says."
"Perhaps the King is near at hand?"
"At any rate he has not forgotten us."
"He has used his Jesuit's teaching to some purpose."
These and many other exclamations were uttered while Lord Biron told the
servant to send Inglesant up at once. He entered the room in his miner's
dress, his hands and face stained with dust, his hair matted and hanging
over his eyes. He carried a large kind of bag, such as the miners used,
and his first action was to place it on the table, and to remove from it
five or six bottles of claret, a large ham, and a goose.
"I knew you were somewhat short here," he said, "and I ran the risk of
bringing these things, though I do not know, if I had been caught, that
it would have told much against me, for we miners live well, I can tell
your lordship."
"But how on earth did you get in?" said Lord Biron, "and where have you
come from?"
"I thought I never should have got in," he replied. "The leaguer is
well kept, and there is scarcely a weak point. But I fear," he added
sadly, "from the state I find you in, it really mattered little whether
I got in or not."
"Oh, never say that," said Lord Biron cheerily; "the sight of you is a
corps of relief in itself. Come in here and let me hear what you have
to say. I will not keep the news a moment from you, gentlemen," he
added courteously to the rest.
"If you will pardon me, my lord," said Inglesant, "and allow me a moment
to wash this dirt off, and if some one would lend me a suit of clothes,
it would be a courtesy. I had to leave my own in Flintshire, and these
are none of the pleasantest. My news will keep a few minutes, and your
lordship will be all the better for a glass or two of this claret, which
is not the worst you ever drank."
Lord Biron took him into another room, and left him to change his dress,
lending him one of his own suits of clothes. Inglesant really wished to
gain time, and also to say what he had to say with every advantage of
appearance and manner, for he felt that his mission was a difficult
one--how difficult he felt he did not know.
When he came back he found the gentlemen had opened one of the bottles,
and were drinking the wine very frugally, but with infinite relish.
They were warm in their thanks to Inglesant, and in congratulations on
his improved appearance. Lord Biron took him on one side at once.
Inglesant had a letter for him from the Duke of Ormond, which the Duke
had given him unsealed, telling him to read it. John Inglesant had done
so several times during his journey, and did not altogether like its
contents. The Duke alluded by name to Lord Glamorgan, and mentioned the
number (10,000) of the troops intended to be sent to England. Neither
fact would Inglesant have wished to communicate himself, at any rate at
once, and he had resolved not to deliver the letter until he saw how
Lord Biron took the rather vague information he intended to give him.
But there is always this difficulty with negotiations of this kind, that
while the first requisite is entire frankness, the least caution, even
at the beginning, may convey a sense of suspicion which nothing
afterwards can remove. Inglesant felt, therefore, that he should have
to watch Lord Biron most closely, and decide instantly, and on the spur
of the moment, when to trust him and to what extent.
He began, after Lord Biron had expressed his cordial admiration at his
exploit and his sense of obligation, by telling him he came direct from
Lord Ormond, in Dublin, and that his object in getting into Chester was
to let them know that they might expect relief from Ireland, at most
within a few days, and to urge them to hold out to the last moment and
the last bag of wheat.
Without appearing to do so, he watched Lord Biron narrowly as he spoke,
and saw that he expected to hear a great deal more than this vague
account.
He went on telling him of his interview with Ormond, of the King's great
anxiety for the relief of Chester, and the difficulties the Lord
Lieutenant met with in treating with the Irish; but he saw that Lord
Biron was manifestly getting impatient. At last the latter said,--
"But you have not told me, Mr. Inglesant, where this relief is to come
from. Ormond has no troops to spare--he has told us so often; indeed,
all the troops that could be spared passed through Chester years ago
when the truce was first proclaimed. He must keep all his to keep those
murderous villains, the Irish Papists, in check. They will respect no
truce. We hear something of Lord Glamorgan; have you seen him in
Ireland? Have you no letter from Ormond to me?"
Inglesant saw that he must trust him at once to a very great extent.
"I have a letter from the Duke to you," he said; "but I wish first to
show you this warrant the King gave me at Oxford, that you may see I do
not speak without his authority. When he gave me that, he told me all
the negotiations which the Duke was engaged in, at his desire, with the
Irish Papists; and all that I tell you has been done with his sanction.
As to Lord Glamorgan, I saw him at Kilkenny; he is striving all he can
to second the Lord Lieutenant's efforts with the Irish and the Papal
Nuncio, and he has the fullest warrant from the King."
Lord Biron read the warrant from the King carefully more than once; then
returned it, and took Lord Ormond's letter, which he also read once or
twice.
Inglesant walked to the window and looked out.
"The letter is not sealed, Mr. Inglesant," Lord Biron said.
"No," said Inglesant, "the Duke insisted on my bringing it open, and on
my reading it. I requested him to seal it, but he refused."
"And you have read it?"
"Certainly."
"I see he speaks of a very large contingent--10,000 men, and that
Glamorgan is to get them entirely from the Irish Papists. Ten thousand
Irish Papists and murderers in England, Mr. Inglesant, is not what I
should like to see, and I do not like the negotiation being entrusted so
much to Glamorgan, a determined Papist. We know not what concessions he
may make unknown to the King. I beg your pardon for my plain
speaking;--they say you are half a Papist yourself."
"You will only have 3000 men sent here," said Inglesant, "and from what
I saw in Ireland I fear it may be some time before the rest follow.
Besides, surely, my lord, nothing can be worse than your present state
here."
"It is sad enough, certainly, but there may be things much worse. I
tell you, sir, I would rather die of hunger on these walls than see my
country given over to murderous Irish rebels and savage Kerns. And bad
as the King's affairs are at present, I am convinced that His Majesty
would endure all gladly, rather than make any concessions to such as
these,--much less expose England to their ravages."