commanded by gentlemen of honour and rank," said Inglesant; "and I
assure your lordship, upon my sacred word of honour as a Christian, that
nothing will be attempted but what has His Majesty's cordial consent."
Lord Biron was unsatisfied, but Inglesant considered he had achieved a
success; his lordship had plainly not the least suspicious feeling
towards him, all his dissatisfaction arising from his dislike to the
means proposed for his relief. He would, moreover, hold out as long as
possible, and this all the more as he saw help approaching, from
whatever source it came.
They went back to the other officers, and communicated the news to them,
rather to their disappointment; for Inglesant having spoken some words
of encouragement to the soldiers of the guard below, the report had run
through Chester that the King was at hand with 3000 horse. The effect,
however, which Inglesant's news produced in Chester was altogether
exhilarating. Officers, soldiers, and inhabitants set to work with
redoubled vigour, and Inglesant became a hero wherever he went, and was
introduced to Lady Biron and the ladies, who received him with
gratitude, as though he had already raised the siege. He was himself,
however, very far from being at ease, as day after day passed and no
signs of help appeared. Lord Biron, though showing the greatest signs
of confidence openly, had evidently become more and more hopeless, and
continually sought opportunities of speaking to Inglesant privately; and
Inglesant found it impossible to avoid letting him see more and more
into the real facts of the case; so that the Duke and his share in the
negotiations fell, day by day, deeper into the shade, and Lord Glamorgan
and his share appeared every day in greater prominence. Lord Biron
expressed himself increasingly dissatisfied, and suspicious that such
negotiations did not originate with the King; but as no help or troops
of any kind appeared, these imaginary dangers were not of much import.
Sir William Brereton, the Parliamentary commander, was continually
sending letters summoning them to surrender. Nine of these they
refused, but when there appeared no longer any hopes of succour, Lord
Biron answered the tenth. To this Sir William answered, upbraiding Lord
Biron with having delayed so long, "every day producing loss of blood
and expense of treasure," but offering to appoint commissioners to treat
on the terms of surrender. This letter was received on the 26th of
January, and the same day Lord Biron replied. Sir William's answer came
the next day, and the same morning, that is on the 27th of January, an
event occurred which decided Lord Biron to surrender, and at the same
time sealed Inglesant's fate.
Early in the forenoon a rumour spread through Chester, the source of
which could not be discovered, but which no doubt arose from some
soldiers' gossip between the outposts. It was said that some great Earl
(Lord Glamorgan's name was immediately introduced into the report, but
whether it was in the original rumour is doubtful) had been arrested in
Ireland, for having concluded in the King's name, but without his
sanction, a treaty with the Irish rebels and Papists, by which the
latter were relieved from all disabilities and restored to the command
of the island, in return for which they agreed to march a large army
into England, to destroy the Parliament and the Protestant party, and
restore the King and Popery. This report, garnished with great variety
of additional horrors, spread rapidly through the city, and about ten
o'clock reached Lord Biron's ears. Chiming in as it did with his worst
suspicions, it excited and alarmed him not a little. His first thought
was of Inglesant, and he sent at once to his lodgings to know if he was
within. Inglesant had spent the whole of the night at one of the
advanced bastions, where, having some reason to believe that the enemy
were working a mine, the garrison made a sortie, and, wearied out, had
come home to his room in the Bridge Street to rest. His wounds, and
especially the one in his head, which had been supposed to be cured,
began to affect him again, probably through exhaustion, excitement, and
want of food, and for several days he had felt a giddiness and confusion
of brain which at times was so great that he scarcely knew what he did.
He had scarcely fallen asleep on the great bed in the small room,
crowded with the valuables of the good people of the house in which he
lodged, when the messenger from the governor entered the room and
aroused him. Sending the man back before him he waited a few minutes to
collect his faculties and arrange his dress, and then followed him to
the Castle. He found Lord Biron in the state dining-room, a noble room,
handsomely furnished, with large windows at the end over-looking the Dee
estuary, and a great carved fireplace, before which Lord Biron was
standing, impatiently awaiting him.
"Mr. Inglesant," he said, as he entered the room, "you showed me once a
commission from His Majesty; will you let me see it again?"
Inglesant, who had heard nothing of the rumour that had caused such
dismay, and who suspected nothing, immediately produced the paper and
handed it to Lord Biron, who took out another from his pocket, and
compared the two carefully together, going to the window to do so.
Then, coming back to Inglesant, and holding the two papers fast in his
hand, he said:--
"Mr. Inglesant, I have heard this morning, what I have reason to believe
is true, that the Lord Glamorgan has been arrested in Dublin by the
King's Council for granting the Papists terms in the King's name, and
conspiring to bring over a Papist army into England. Have you any
knowledge of such matters as these?"
Inglesant's astonishment and dismay were so unfeigned that Lord Biron
saw at once that such news was most unexpected by him. He had indeed,
among all the dangers he was on his guard against, never calculated upon
such as this. Distasteful as he supposed the negotiations with the
Papists would be to numbers of the Church party, the idea never entered
his mind that any loyal authorities would take upon them, without
communicating with the King, the responsibility of arresting the
negotiations or making them public, and this with a high hand,
presupposing that they were without the King's sanction. But, supposing
this extraordinary news to be true, he saw at once an end to his
efforts,--he saw himself at once helpless and deserted, nothing before
him but long imprisonment and perhaps death.
He stood for some moments looking at Lord Biron, the picture of
astonishment and dismay. At last he said,--
"I cannot think, my lord, that such news can be true. What possible
motive could the Council have to take such a step? I give you my word
of honour as a Christian, that Lord Glamorgan has done nothing but what
he had authority for from the King."
"You are much in his confidence evidently, sir," said Lord Biron
severely; "but I am inclined to believe my information nevertheless."
"But he had commission and warrants signed by the King himself; and
private letters from him, which would have removed all suspicion," said
Inglesant.
"Yes, sir, no doubt he had commissions, professedly from the King, as
you have," said Lord Biron still more severely. "Your commission names
Lord Glamorgan, and you are evidently of one council with him. Will you
pledge me your honour that this paper was written by the King?"
And he held out Inglesant's commission,
Johnny hesitated: the circumstances of the case were beginning to
arrange themselves before him, racked and weary as his brain was. If
this news were true, if the Lord Lieutenant and the Council had really
disclaimed, in the King's name, the negotiations, and boldly before the
world proclaimed them unauthorized, and the warrants a forgery, the game
was evidently played out, and his course clear before him, dark and
gloomy enough. Yet he thought he would make one effort to recover the
paper, a matter, whatever might turn out, of the first importance to the
King.
"If I swear to you, Lord Biron, that the King wrote it, will you give it
me back?"
"I am sorry, sir, that I cannot," said Lord Biron, "I am grieved at my
heart to do anything which would seem to doubt in the least the word of
a gentleman such as I have always believed you to be; but in the post I
hold, and in the crisis of an affair so terribly important as this, I
must act as my poor judgment leads me. I cannot give this paper up to
any one until I learn more of this distressing business."
"If I swear to you," said Inglesant, beaten at every point, but fighting
to the last, "that it is the King's writing, will you give me your word
of honour that you will burn it immediately?"
"No, sir," said the other loftily; "what the King has been pleased to
write, it can be the duty of no man to conceal."
"Then it is not the King's," said Inglesant.
Lord Biron stared at him for a moment, then folded up the papers
carefully, and replaced them in his pocket-case. Then he went to the
door of the dining-room at the top of the stairs and called down.
"Without! send up a guard."
Inglesant unhooked his sword from the scarf, and handed it to Lord Biron
without a word. Then he said,--
"It can be of no advantage to me now, may probably tell against me, when
I entreat your lordship to believe me when I tell you, as I hope for
salvation before the throne of God, that if you burn that paper now you
will be glad of it every day you live."
"I certainly shall not burn it, sir," said the other, speaking now with
a cold disdain. And he turned his back upon Inglesant, and stood
looking at the fire.
Johnny went to the window and looked out. The bright winter's sun was
shining on the walls and roofs of the town, on the dancing waves of the
estuary, and on the green oak banks of Flintshire beyond. He remembered
the view long afterwards, as we remember that on which the eye rests
almost unconsciously in any supreme moment of our lives.
Presently the guard came up.
"This gentleman is under arrest," said Lord Biron to the sergeant; "you
will secure him in one of the strong rooms of the tower, and see that he
has fire and his full share of provisions until the garrison is
relieved; but no one must be admitted to see him, and you are
responsible for his person to me. You can send word to your servant to
bring you anything you may want from your lodgings, Mr. Inglesant," he
said, "but he must not come to you, and all the things must pass through
my hands."
Inglesant bowed, "I have to thank you for the courtesy, Lord Biron," he
said; "I have nothing to complain of in your treatment of me."
The other turned away, half impatiently, and Inglesant followed the
sergeant to his room, the guard following one by one, through the
passages and up the narrow staircase of the tower.
It was a pleasant room enough, fitted with glass windows strongly
barred. The sergeant caused a fire to be lighted, and left Inglesant to
himself.
It was the first time he had ever been imprisoned, and as the door
locked upon him that terrible feeling crept over him which the first
sense of incarceration always brings,--a nameless dread and a frantic
desire of escape, of again mixing with fellow-men. But to Inglesant
this sad feeling was increased immensely by the circumstances that
surrounded him, and the peculiar nature of his position. The very
nature of his position debarred him from all hope, cut him off from all
help alike from friend and foe. Those who in any other case would be
most forward to help him were now his jailers, nay, he was turned by
this strange reverse into his own jailer and enemy; debarred from
attempting anything to help himself, he must actually employ all his
energies in riveting the chains more tightly on his limbs, in preparing
the gallows himself. Exposed to the contempt and hatred of all his
friends, of those dearer to him than friends, he could make no effort to
clear himself, nay, every word he spoke must be nicely calculated to
increase their aversion and contempt. He was worn and ill and
half-starved, and his brain was full of confusion and strange noises,
yet the idea of faltering in his course never so much as presented
itself to him. The Jesuit's work was fully done.
The next day the Commissioners for the surrender of the city met, and
the day after Sir William Brereton's commissioners made a formal
announcement of the news that had been received from Ireland. Lord
Glamorgan, they said, had arrived in Dublin from Kilkenny. The 26th of
December was fixed for him to appear before the Council, but in the
meantime letters were received by several persons in Dublin giving an
account of some papers found on the person of the titulary Archbishop of
Tuam, who was slain in an encounter at Sligo in October. The papers
contained the details of the treaty come to between Lord Glamorgan and
the Papists, which details threw the Council into such dismay that they
concluded that if such things were once published, and they could be
believed to be done by his Majesty's authority, they could have no less
fatal an effect than to make all men conclude all the former scandals
cast upon His Majesty of the inciting the Irish Rebellion true; that the
King was a Papist, and designed to introduce Popery even by ways the
most unkingly and perfidious; and consequently, that there would be a
general revolt of all good Protestants from him. Now, the Council,
considering all this, and also hearing that the affair was already
public through Dublin, and beginning to work such dangerous effects that
they did not consider themselves safe, they concluded that the only
course open to them was to arrest Lord Glamorgan in the Council, which
was accordingly done on the 26th of December.
The Commissioners also informed Lord Biron that they were told that
there were many Irish in Chester, born of Irish parents, who had
formerly served in the rebel armies in Ireland, and that also there was
even then in Chester an emissary from Lord Glamorgan. They therefore
demanded that these Irish should be exempted from the general terms of
surrender, and made over to them as prisoners of war, and that the
emissary from Lord Glamorgan should also be given up to them as a
traitor, seeing that he was condemned by the royal party as well as by
themselves.
To this it was answered by Lord Biron's Commissioners that the
Irish--such at least as were born of Irish parents and had served with
the rebels--should be delivered as they requested, and that as to Mr.
Inglesant, the emissary alluded to, he was already under arrest on the
charge of treason, and should remain so until more of this affair could
be known, when, if the truth appeared to be as was supposed, he should
be given up also.
With this the Parliamentary Commissioners professed themselves
satisfied, and the treaty was proceeded with, and on the 3d of February
Chester was formally surrendered. On the same day Sir William Brereton
informed Lord Biron that the King, in a message to the Parliament, dated
from Oxford, January 29th, utterly repudiated all knowledge of the Earl
of Glamorgan's proceedings, and denied that he had given him any
authority whatever to treat with the Irish Papists. Sir William added,
he supposed Lord Biron would no longer have any scruple to surrender the
person of Lord Glamorgan's emissary, as by so doing could he alone
convince men of the sincerity of his belief in the King's freedom from
complicity in his designs. Lord Biron answered that he had nothing to
object to in this, and would give Mr. Inglesant up, and indeed it was
not in his power to do anything else. On the 3d day of February the
Parliamentary forces were marched into the town, and Lord Biron with his
lady, and the rest of the noblemen and gentlemen and their ladies,
prepared to leave. According to the articles of the treaty, carriages
were provided for them and their goods, and a party of horse appointed
to convey them to Conway. The ladies and gentlemen were assembled at
Sir Francis Gammul's in the lower Bridge Street. The street was blocked
with carriages and horses, and carts full of goods; companies of foot
were forcing their way through; the overhanging rows and houses were
full of people, the Church bells were ringing, the Parliamentary
officers passing to and fro. There was a certain amount of relief and
gaiety in all hearts; the Royalists were relieved from the hardships of
the siege, and were expecting to go to their homes; the
Parliamentarians, of course, were jubilant. The principal inhabitants
of Chester were the worst off, but even they looked forward to a time of
quiet, and to the possibility of at last retrieving their losses and
their position in the town. Amid all this confusion and bustle, a
sergeant's guard entered the room where Inglesant was confined, and
desired him to accompany them to the commander, that the transfer of his
person might be arranged. He followed them out of the castle, by St.
Mary's Church, and up the short street into the Bridge Street, at the
corner of which Sir Francis Gammul's house stood. Forcing his way
through the crowd that gaped and pressed upon them, the sergeant
conducted Inglesant into the house, and up into one of the principal
rooms, where the commanders and the ladies and many others were
assembled. A crowd of curious spectators pressed after them to the door
as soon as it was known whom the sergeant had brought; a dead silence
fell upon the whole company, and the two commanders, who were seated at
a table, on which were the articles of surrender, rose and gazed at
Inglesant. A confused murmur, the nature of which it would have been
difficult to describe, ran through the room, and the ladies pressed
together, with mingled timidity and curiosity, to look on. Inglesant
was thin and pale, his clothes shabby and uncared for, his hair and
moustache undressed, his whole demeanour cowed and dispirited--very
different in appearance from the fine gentleman who had played Philaster
before the Court. Doubtless, many among the Royalists pitied him; but
at present no doubts were felt, or at any rate had time to circulate, of
the King's sincerity, and the dislike to the Jesuits, even by the High
Church Loyalists, closed their hearts against him. The Lord Biron asked
him whether he had anything to say before he was delivered over to Sir
William, to which he replied,--
"No."
He made no effort to speak to any one, or to salute Lady Biron or any of
his acquaintances, but stood patiently, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Sir William asked whether he adhered to his statement that the
commission he had exhibited was a forgery?
At which he looked up steadily, and said,--
"Yes; it was not written by the King."
As he made the avowal a murmur of indignation passed through the room,
and Sir William ordered him to be removed, telling him he should be
examined to-morrow, the account of his answers sent up to London, and
the will of the Parliament communicated to him as soon as possible.
Inglesant bowed in reply and turned to leave the room, making no effort
to salute or take leave of any one; but Lord Biron stopped him with a
gesture, and said, probably actuated by some feeling which he could not
have explained,--
"I wish you good-day, Mr. Inglesant. I may never see you again."
Inglesant looked up, a slight flush passing over his features, and their
eyes met.
"I wish you good-day, my lord," he said; "you have acted as a faithful
servant of the King."
Lord Biron made no further effort to detain him, and he left the room.
The next day he was brought up before Sir William Brereton, and examined
at great length. He stated that the plot had originated with the Roman
Catholics, especially the Jesuits, whose envoy Lord Glamorgan was; that
all the warrants and papers were forged by them, and that he had
received his instructions and the King's commission from Father St.
Clare himself. He stated that if the design failed, the King was to
know nothing of it, and if it succeeded it was supposed that he would
pardon the offenders on consideration of the benefits he would receive.
A vast mass of evidence was taken by Sir William from Irish soldiers,
inhabitants of Chester, and people of every description, relative to
what had taken place in the city, and all was sent to London to the
Parliament. In the course of a few days orders came down to bring
Inglesant up to town, together with some of the most important
witnesses, to be examined before a Committee of the House of Commons;
and this was accordingly done at once, Sir William Brereton accompanying
his prisoner and conveying him by easy stages to London, where he was
confined in St. James's palace till the will of the Parliament should be
known.
*CHAPTER XIII.*
When the news of the arrest of the Earl of Glamorgan reached Oxford, it
caused the greatest consternation, and the King wrote letters, in his
own name and in that of the Chancellor, to the Parliament and to all the
principal politicians denying all participation in or knowledge of his
negotiations.
The most violent excitement prevailed on the subject all over England.
All parties, except the Papists, joined in expressing the most lively
horror and indignation at proposals which not only repudiated the policy
of the last hundred years, and let loose the Papists to pursue their
course unimpeded, but also placed England at the mercy of the most
repulsive and lawless of the followers of the Roman Catholic faith. The
barbarities of the Irish rebels, which were sufficiently horrible, were
magnified by rumour on every side; and the horror which the English
conceived at the thought of their homes being laid open to those
monsters, was only equalled by their indignation against those who had
conceived so treasonable and unnatural a plot. Besides this, the King
having denied all knowledge of such negotiations, the indignation of all
loyal Churchmen was excited against those who had so treasonably and
miserably done all they could to compromise the King's name, and make
him odious to all right-thinking Englishmen. The known actors in this
affair being very few, consisting, indeed, only of the Earl and
Inglesant, and of the Jesuits (which last was a vague and intangible
designation, standing in the ordinary English mind merely as a synonym
for all that was wicked, base, and dangerous), and the Earl being,
moreover, out of reach, the public indignation concentrated on
Inglesant, and his life would have been worth little had he fallen into
the hands of the mob. When the news of the fall of Chester and of
Inglesant's arrest and subsequent transference to the Parliamentary
commander, reached Oxford, the King sent for the Jesuit privately, and
received him in his cabinet at Christ Church.
The King appeared anxious and ill, and as though he did not know where
to turn or what to do.
"You have heard the news, Father, I suppose," he said. "Lord Biron, as
well as Digby, has taken upon himself to keep the King's conscience, and
know the King's mind better than he does himself. How many Kings there
are in England now, I do not know, but I have ever found my most
faithful servants my most strict masters. You know Jack Inglesant has
been given over to the rebels? What are we to do for him?"
"Your Majesty can do nothing," said the Jesuit. "All that could be done
has been done, and as far as may be has been done well. All that your
Majesty has to do now is to be silent."
"Then Inglesant must be given up," said the King.
"He must be given up. Your Majesty has no choice."
"Another!" said the King, bitterly. "Strafford, whose blood tinges
every sight I see! Laud, Glamorgan, now another! What right have I to
suppose my servants will be faithful to me, when I give them up, one by
one, without a word?"
"Your Majesty does not discriminate," said the Jesuit; "your good heart
overpowers your clearer reason. It is as much your duty, for the good
of the State, to be deaf to the voice of private feeling and friendship,
as it is for your servants to be deaf to all but the call of duty to
your Majesty; and this your servants know, and do not dream that they
have any cause to complain. Strafford and the Archbishop both
acknowledged this, and now it will be the same again. There is no fear
of John Inglesant, your Majesty."