It was the ninth hour of the evening on the following day when a
carriage stopped at the gates of Newgate, and a lady got out and
entered the prison. It was by this time dark, for the year was
already beginning to show a slight diminution in the length of the
days; and there were few people just at that moment in the streets to
remark that she left a male companion behind her in the vehicle, who,
with his arms crossed upon his chest, and his eyes bent thoughtfully
upon the other side of the carriage, remained buried in deep and
seemingly gloomy meditation.
After the lapse of about ten minutes the lady returned, and said,
"You may come; but the governor says your visit must not be long, and
on no account must be mentioned." [Footnote: It is an undoubted
historical fact, that more persons visited and conversed long with
Fenwick in prison than the court was at all aware of.]
Wilton instantly stepped out of the carriage as Lady Mary Fenwick
spoke, and followed her into the prison. A turnkey was in waiting
with a light, and led them round the outer court and through one or
two dark and narrow passages to the cell in which Sir John Fenwick
was confined. There was another turnkey waiting without; and Wilton,
being admitted, found the wretched man whose crimes had brought him
thither, and whose cowardly treachery was even then preparing to make
his end disgraceful, sitting pale, haggard, and worn, with his elbow
resting on the small table in the middle of the cell, and his anxious
eye fixed upon that door from which he was never more to go forth but
to trial, to shame, and to death.
Lady Mary Fenwick, his unfortunate wife, whose eager and strenuous
exertions in her husband's behalf were sufficient to atone in some
degree for the error of countenancing those calumnies by which he
hoped to escape his well-deserved fate, accompanied or rather
followed Wilton into the cell; and as she did so, remarking the
haggard glance with which Sir John regarded the visitor, she held up
her finger with a meaning look, as if to entreat him to assume more
calmness, at least in his demeanour.
Sir John Fenwick made an effort to do so; and, with one of those
painful smiles wherewith wretchedness often attempts to cover its own
misery, he said, "Good evening, Mr. Brown. This is a poor place for
me to receive you in. I could have done better, if you had honoured
me by a visit in Northumberland."
"I grieve much, Sir John, to see you in it," replied Wilton, "and
trust that you may be enabled to free yourself speedily."
A look of anguish came over Sir John Fenwick's countenance; but
Wilton went on, saying, "When last we met, Sir John, it was not,
perhaps, on the best of terms, and I certainly thought that you
treated me ill; but let all that be forgotten in the present
circumstances."
"Do you mean," asked Sir John Fenwick, with a cynical look, "that we
are both to forget it, or that I am to forget the whole business, and
you to recollect it at my trial for the benefit of my accusers?"
"I meant for us both, of course, to forget it," replied Wilton; "or,
rather, I should say, I meant merely that we should forget all
feelings of enmity; for to see you here deprives me of all such
sensations towards you."
"Ay, sir," said Sir John Fenwick, eagerly. "But let us keep to the
other point, if you please. Do you intend to forget our former
meeting, or to give evidence in regard to it?"
Wilton paused, and thought for a moment; and then a sudden idea
struck him that that very interview to which Fenwick alluded might,
perhaps, prove the means of making him modify his charge against the
Duke.
"I cannot, of course," he said, "promise you, Sir John Fenwick, not
to give evidence against you, if I am called upon, for you know that
I can be compelled to do so; but I do not see that my evidence could
do you the slightest harm in regard to your trial for treason, as I
heard you utter no treasonable sentiments, and saw you perform no
treasonable act."
"True, true!" cried Sir John Fenwick, gladly. "True, you can have
nothing to say."
"So shall I tell any one who asks me," said Wilton. "I can give no
pertinent evidence whatsoever, and therefore can easily keep out of
court--unless, indeed," he added, with particular emphasis, "the
charges which you have brought against the Duke of Gaveston should
compel me to come forward as one of his witnesses, especially as his
trial is likely to take place before your own."
"But how can that affect me?" demanded Sir John Fenwick, looking
sharply in his face. "How can the Duke's trial have any effect upon
mine?"
"Merely by bringing forward my evidence," replied Wilton.
"But how, why, wherefore?" said Sir John Fenwick, eagerly. "You have
yourself admitted that you saw nothing, heard nothing at all
treasonable--you cannot dally with a man whose life is in jeopardy.
What evidence can you give with regard to the Duke that can at all
affect me?"
"Only in this way," answered Wilton. "The Duke must be tried upon
your accusation. He will call me to prove that you and he were at
enmity together, and that therefore your charge is likely to be a
calumny. He will also call me to prove that it was both my opinion
and his, expressed to each other at the very time, that you carried
off his daughter for the purpose of forcing him into a plot against
the state, or at all events to prevent his revealing what he knew of
your proceedings, from the fear of some injury happening to his
child. I shall then have to prove that I found her absolutely in your
power: that you refused to give her up at my request; that you were
at that time in company with and acting in concert with various
persons, five or six of whom have since been executed; that from
amongst you a shot was fired at me, showing that the Duke's
apprehensions regarding his daughter were well founded; and I shall
also have to declare, that before the Duke could have any assurance
of his daughter's safety, the conspiracy was itself discovered, so
that he had no time or opportunity to reveal the plot, unless at a
period when his so doing might have endangered, perhaps, the life of
Lady Laura. All this, my good sir, I shall have to prove, if the
Duke's trial is forced on. To sum the matter up, it must be shown
upon that trial that you and the Duke were at bitter enmity, and that
therefore your charge is likely to be malicious; that you carried off
his daughter as a sort of hostage; and that he was under reasonable
apprehensions on her account, in case he should tell what he knew of
the conspiracy; that I found you associating intimately with all the
condemned traitors the very day before the arrest of some of them,
and that the Duke did not recover his daughter by my means, till the
plot itself was discovered. Now you will judge, Sir John, how this
may affect your own trial. I warn you of the matter, because I have a
promise, a positive promise, that I shall not be brought forward to
give evidence in this business without my own consent; but once
having proffered my testimony in favour of the Duke, I cannot refuse
it, should any link in the chain of evidence be wanting against you
which I can supply."
Sir John Fenwick had listened to every word that Wilton said in
bitter silence; and when he had done, he gnashed his teeth one
against the other, saying, with a look of hatred, "You should have
been a lawyer, young sir, you should have been a lawyer. You have
missed your vocation."
"Lawyers, Sir John Fenwick," replied Wilton, "are often, even against
their will, obliged to support falsehood; but I merely tell you the
truth. You have brought a charge against the Duke, as far as I can
understand, of which he is virtually innocent, to all intents and
purposes--"
"Who told you I had brought a charge against him at all?" demanded
Sir John Fenwick. "Who told you what that charge was? It must be all
guess-work, upon your part. Depend upon it, if I have brought a
charge at all, it is one that I can prove."
"I may have been mistaken," replied Wilton, "and I hope I am, Sir
John. I hope that you have brought no charge, and that if you have,
it is not of the nature that I supposed; for as I have shown you, it
would be most unwise and imprudent of you so to do. You would not
injure the Duke in any other way than by a long imprisonment, and you
would, in all probability, insure your own condemnation, while you
were uselessly attempting to do evil to another. At all events, Sir
John, you must not take it ill of me that I point this out to you,
and if you will take the warning I have given, it may be of great
benefit to you."
"How should I take it?" demanded Sir John Fenwick, still frowning
upon him from under his bent brows. "What I have said I have said,
and I shall not go back from it. There may be other witnesses, too,
against the Duke, that you know not of. What think you of Smith? What
think you of Cook?"
"I know not, really," replied Wilton. "In fact, I know nothing upon
the subject, except that the Duke is virtually innocent of the crime
with which you would charge him. You made him listen to designs
which he abhorred; and because he did not betray you, you charge him
with participating in them. As for the witnesses Cook and Smith, I
have heard from the Earl of Byerdale that neither the one nor the
other have anything to say against the Duke."
Sir John Fenwick had listened with a bitter smile to what Wilton
said; but he replied almost fiercely, "You know nothing of what you
are talking. Are you blind enough or foolish enough to fancy that the
Earl of Byerdale is a friend of the Duke?"
"I really do not know," replied Wilton, calmly. "I suppose he is
neither very much his friend nor his enemy."
"And there, too, you are mistaken," answered Sir John Fenwick: "for
an envoy, you know marvellous little of the sender's situation."
"I only know," replied Wilton, "thus much, which you yourself cannot
deny, that to accuse the Duke, so as to bring him to trial for this
unfortunate affair, will be to produce your certain condemnation; to
cut you off from all chance of hope."
Lady Mary Fenwick had hitherto stood silent a step or two behind
Wilton; but now advancing a little, she said, "Indeed, Sir John, you
had better think of it. It seems to me that what Mr. Brown says is
reasonable, and that it would be much better so to state or modify
your charge against the Duke as not to hazard his life."
"Nonsense, Lady Mary!" exclaimed Fenwick; "neither you nor he know
anything of what my charges are, or in what my hopes consist. My
charge against the Duke shall stand as I have given it; and you may
tell him, that it is not on my evidence alone he will be condemned;
so that yours, young man, will not tend much to save him."
Wilton saw that it would be useless to urge the matter any farther at
that moment, though, notwithstanding the perverse determination shown
by the prisoner, he was not without hope that their conversation
might ultimately produce some effect upon his mind.
"Well, Sir John," he said, "I will keep you no longer from
conversation with your lady. I grieve for you on every account. I
grieve to see you here, I grieve for the situation in which you have
placed yourself, and I still more grieve to see you struggling to
deliver yourself from that situation by means which MAY PRODUCE the
destruction of others, and will certainly PRODUCE your own."
"I neither want your grief, nor care for it, sir," replied the
prisoner. "Good night, good night."
Wilton then turned and left him; but Lady Mary Fenwick accompanied
the young gentleman into the passage, saying in a low voice, "The
Earl of Byerdale has seen him twice. You will do well to be upon
your guard there."
"Thank you, lady, thank you," replied Wilton. "I am upon my guard,
and am most grateful for what you have done."
Thus saying, he left her: and as it was too late, at that hour, to
visit the prisoner in the Tower, he turned towards his own home; but
ere he reached it, he bethought him of seeking some farther
information from the public reports of the day, which were only to be
met with in their highest perfection in the several different resorts
of wits and politicians which have become familiar to our minds in
the writings of Steele and Addison. Will's and the Chocolate-house,
and other places of the same kind, supplied in a very great degree
the places of the Times, the Herald, the Globe, or the Courier; and
though the Postman and several other papers gave a scanty share of
information, yet the inner room of the St. James's Coffee-house might
be considered as representing the leading article to the newspaper of
the day.
To one or two of these houses, then, Wilton repaired, and found the
whole town still busy with the arrest of Sir John Fenwick, and with
the names of persons he was said to have accused. If the rumours were
to be believed, he had brought charges of one kind or another against
half the high nobility and statesmen of the land. The King's servants
and most familiar friends, many who were still actually employed by
him, and many who had aided to seat him on the throne, were all said
to be accused of treasonable communications with the court of St.
Germain; and Wilton had the satisfaction of thinking, that if there
were, indeed, any safety in numbers, the Duke had that security at
least.
When he had satisfied himself on this point, he returned to his own
house, to meditate upon the best defence which could be set up for
the noble prisoner. None, however, suggested itself better than that
which he had sketched out in his conversation with Sir John Fenwick;
and without loss of time he put it down in writing, in order to take
the Duke's opinion upon it. There was one flaw, indeed, in the chain
which he could not but see, and which he feared might be used by an
enemy to the Duke's disadvantage. He could prove, that after Lady
Laura had been carried away the Duke had no opportunity whatever of
disclosing the plot until it was already discovered; but
unfortunately, between the time of the meeting in Leadenhall-street
and the period at which the conspirators so daringly bore off the
lady from the terrace there had been a lapse of some time, during
which her father might have made any communication to the government
that he liked. There was a hope, however, that this might pass
unremarked; and at all events what he proposed was the only defence
that could be set up.
On the following morning, when he saw the Earl of Byerdale, he
inquired if he had seen the Duke; but found that such was not the
case, business being the excuse for having failed in his promise.
Wilton, however, proceeded to the Tower as soon as he was free, and
found Laura now sharing the apartments assigned to her father, and
striving to support and comfort him, but apparently in vain. The
Duke's mind was still in a terrible state of depression; and the want
of all certain intelligence, the failure of the Earl of Byerdale's
promise, and the absence of Wilton, had caused his anxiety apparently
to increase rather than to diminish, since the first day of his
imprisonment.
We must not pause upon the various interviews which succeeded, and
were painful enough. Wilton had little to tell that could give the
Duke any comfort. The determined adherence of Sir John Fenwick to his
charge, the sort of indifference which the Earl of Byerdale displayed
in regard to the prisoner's situation, neglecting to see him, though
repeatedly promising to do so, all served to depress his spirits day
by day, and to render him altogether insensible to the voice of
comfort. Towards Wilton himself the Earl resumed a portion of his
reserve and gravity; and though he still called him, "My dear
Wilton," and "My dear boy," when he addressed him, he spoke to him
very little upon any subject, except mere matters of business, and
checked every approach to the topic on which Wilton would most
willingly have entered.
On the seventh or eighth day of the Duke's imprisonment, however,
Lord Sherbrooke again appeared in town; but the Earl employed Wilton
constantly, during the whole of that day; so much so, indeed, that
his secretary could not help believing that there was effort apparent
in it, in order to prevent his holding any private communication with
his friend. At length, however, he suffered him to return home, but
not till nearly ten at night, by which time Lord Sherbrooke had left
the house, to go to some great entertainment.
Scarcely had Wilton passed the door, when he found some one take hold
of his arm, and to his surprise found the young nobleman by his side.
"I have been watching for you eagerly, Wilton," he said, "for it
seems to me, that the game is going against you, and I see the faces
of the cards."
"I am very anxious indeed about the Duke, if such be your meaning,
Sherbrooke," replied Wilton.
"And I am so also," answered Lord Sherbrooke. "What my father
intends, I do not well see; but I should think, that to make the poor
man lose his head on Tower-hill would be somewhat too severe a
punishment, too bitter a revenge, for Lady Laura refusing to wed so
worshipful a person as I am."
"I hope and trust," replied Wilton, "that there is no chance of such
a consummation."
"On my word, I do not know," replied Lord Sherbrooke. "My father,
when he is hungry for anything, has a great appetite; I don't think
the Duke's head would much more than dine him. However, take my
advice; depend not upon him in the least; go to the Duke of
Shrewsbury at once, if he be in town, and if not, to Vernon. Try to
interest them in favour of the Duke; see what you can allege in his
favour. The King has just returned from Holland, you know, and any
application made to him now may perhaps be received graciously. Have
you anything that you can state in the Duke's favour?"
Wilton recapitulated all that could be said to palliate the error
which Laura's father had committed, and Lord Sherbrooke answered
eagerly, "That is enough, surely that is enough. At least," he added,
"it ought to be enough, and would be enough, if there were no
under-influence going on. At all events, Wilton, I would go
decidedly to his grace of Shrewsbury, or to Vernon, for I believe the
Duke is absent. Represent all these facts, and induce him to lay
them before the King. This is the best and most straightforward
course, and you will speedily learn more upon the subject. But there
is another thing which I have to tell you--though I put no great
reliance upon the result being as effectual as we could wish--I was
speaking a few nights ago with our friend the Colonel, upon the
situation of the Duke, and upon your anxiety regarding him, all of
which I have heard from my good rascally valet, who--considering that
he is one of the greatest scoundrels that ever was unhung--is a very
honest fellow in his way, and finds out everything for me, Heaven
knows how, and lets me know it truly. The Colonel seemed to laugh at
the idea of anything being done to the Duke, saying, 'No, no; he is
safe enough.' But after a while he added, 'If Wilton have any
difficulty about the business, he had better speak to me:' and then
he fell into one of his long sullen fits of thought; after which he
said, 'Tell him to ride out hitherward on Saturday night next, just
as it is turning dark--I should like to speak with him about it.'"
"I will not fail," replied Wilton; "for there is something about that
man that interests, nay, attaches me, in spite of all I know and all
I guess concerning his desperate habits. It is evident that he has
had a high education, and possesses a noble heart; in fact, that he
was fitted for better things than the criminal and disgraceful course
he has pursued."
"Hush, hush!" cried Lord Sherbrooke, laughing; "speak more
respectfully of the worthy Colonel, I beg. You are not aware that he
is a near relation of mine."
Wilton started, and turned round as if he would have gazed in his
companion's face, but the darkness of the night prevented him from
well seeing what was passing there. As he recalled, however, his
first interview with Green, his look, his manner, and the jesting
tone in which he sometimes spoke, he could not but acknowledge that
there was something in the whole resembling Lord Sherbrooke not a
little, although Green was a much taller and more powerful man.
"This is strange enough, Sherbrooke," he replied, "if you are not
joking; and, indeed, I think you are not, for there is a certain
likeness between you and him, though more in the manner than in the
person."
"It is quite true," replied Lord Sherbrooke; "he is a near relation.
But, however, in regard to the Duke, I see not how he can help you,
though he certainly does very wonderful things sometimes, which
nobody expects or can account for. I would hear all he has to say,
then; but at the same time, Wilton, I would not neglect the other
business with Vernon, for, you see, the Colonel names Saturday. This
is Monday, and before that time the Duke's head may be upon a pole,
for aught we know. They make short work with trials and executions in
these days."
"I will not fail," answered Wilton, "I will not fail. In such a case
as this it is scarcely possible to do too much, and very possible to
do too little. I trust your father will not detain me the whole day
to-morrow."
"Oh no!" replied Lord Sherbrooke: "I am going to remove the cause,
Wilton. As soon as ever I arrived last night, I perceived that the
Earl was delicately working at some grand scheme regarding the Duke,
and I very soon perceived, too, that he was determined you and I
should not have an opportunity of talking the matter over, for fear
we should spoil proceedings. I was obliged to watch my opportunity
to-night with great nicety, but to-morrow I go back, that is to say,
if my sweet Caroline is ready to go with me, for I am the most
obedient and loving of husbands, as all reformed rakes are, you know,
Wilton."
"But is the lady in town, and at your father's?" demanded Wilton,
with surprise.
"She is in town, dearly beloved," replied Lord Sherbrooke, "but
certainly not at my father's; and now, Wilton, ask me no more upon
the subject, for, between you and me, I know little or nothing more
myself. I know not what brings her into London; who she comes to see
here, or who the note was from that called her so suddenly up to this
great den of iniquity. It is a very horrible thing, Wilton, a very
horrible thing, indeed," he continued, in the same jesting tone,
"that any woman should have secrets from her husband. I have heard
many matrons say so, and I believe them from my whole heart; but I've
heard the same matrons say that there should be perfect reciprocity,
which, perhaps, might mean that the wife and the husband were to have
no secrets from each other, which, I am afraid, in my case, would
never do, so I am fain to let her have this secret of her own,
especially as she promises to tell me what it is in a few days.
Reciprocity is a fine thing, Wilton; but it is wonderful what a
number of different sorts of reciprocity there are in this world.
Look there. Do you know there is something that puzzles me about that
house."
"Why, that is Lord Sunbury's," replied Wilton; "but there are lights
up in the drawing-room apparently."
"Ay, that's one part of the story that puzzles me," said Lord
Sherbrooke. "I think the old housekeeper must be giving a drum. My
valet tells me that on Saturday morning last there was a hackney
coach stopped at that house, and two men went into it: one seemed a
gentleman wrapped in a long cloak, the other looked like a valet, and
stayed to get a number of packages out of the coach. Now I cannot
suspect that same old housekeeper, who, as far as I recollect, is
much like one of the daughters of Erebus and Nox, of carrying on an
amorous correspondence with any gentleman; and it is somewhat strange
that she should have lent the use of her master's house, either for
love or money. I should not wonder if the Earl himself had come to
London before his baggage."
"I should think not," replied Wilton; "I should certainly think not.
I had a letter from him not long ago, dated from Paris, and I think
he certainly would have written to inform me if he had been coming."
"I am not so sure of that, by any means, Wilton," replied his friend.
"I can tell you, that two or three things have happened to his good
lordship lately, which, with all his kindness and benevolence, might
make him wish to see two or three other people before he saw you.
There is a report even now busy about town that he is corresponding
from Paris privately and directly with the King, and that his arrival
in England will be followed by a change of ministry, if he will
consent to take office again, which seems to be very doubtful."
These tidings interested Wilton not a little; and perhaps he felt a
curiosity to ascertain whether Lord Sherbrooke's suspicion was or was
not correct. His mind, however, was too high and delicate to admit of
his taking any steps for that purpose, and after some more
conversation on the same subject, he and his friend parted.
On the following morning Wilton had an opportunity of visiting the
Duke of Shrewsbury's office, and found Mr. Vernon disengaged. To him
he communicated all that he had to say in defence of the Duke, and
found Vernon mild in his manners and expressions, but naturally
cautious in either promising anything or in giving any information.
He heard all that Wilton had to say, however, and assured him that he
would lay the statement he made before the King on the ensuing
morning, adding, that if he would call upon him in the course of the
next day he would tell him the result. He smiled when Wilton
requested him to keep his visit and its object secret, and nodded his
head, merely replying, "I understand."
On the following day Wilton did not fail to visit him again, and
waited for nearly an hour till he was ready to receive him.
"I am sorry," said Vernon, when he did admit him, "that I cannot give
you greater satisfaction, Mr. Brown; but the King's reply, upon my
application, was, that he had already spoken with the Earl of
Byerdale on the subject. However, it may be some comfort to you to
know that his grace of Shrewsbury takes an interest in the situation
of the Duke, and has himself written to the King upon the subject."