Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Google Books
https://books.google.com/books?id=YPdLAAAAcAAJ
(the Bavarian State Library)
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
HENRY SMEATON.
Paris.--Printed by E. Brière, rue Sainte-Anne, 55.
HENRY SMEATON;
A JACOBITE STORY
OF
THE REIGN OF GEORGE THE FIRST.
BY G. P. R. JAMES.
AUTHOR OF "THE FORGERY," "THE WOODMAN," "THE OLD OAK CHEST,"
ETC., ETC.
PARIS,
A. AND W. GALIGNANI AND CO., BAUDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY,
RUE VIVIENNE, N° 18. QUAI MALAQUAIS, N° 3.
1851.
HENRY SMEATON;
A JACOBITE STORY OF THE REIGN OF GEORGE THE FIRST.
BY G. P. R. JAMES.
CHAPTER I.
By the side of the large piece of water in the middle of St. James's
Square--
"There is no large piece of water in St. James's Square. It is a very
small one."
But there was at the time I speak of, namely, the year 1715; and if
you will allow me to go on, you shall hear all about it.
By the side of the large piece of water in St. James's Square, looking
at the playing of the fountain, (which was afterwards congealed into a
great ugly statue,) and watching the amusements of a gay boy and girl,
who had come out of one of the houses--I think it was Lord Bathurst's,
and were rowing about in the pleasure-boat on the water, stood a man
of some six or seven and twenty years of age, dressed in a garb which
did not very well indicate his profession, although the distinctions
of costume were in those days somewhat closely attended to. His
garments, of a sober colour, were very plain, but very good. Especial
care seemed to have been taken to avoid every thing in the least
degree singular, or which could attract attention; and it was more
easy to say what the wearer was not, than what he was. He was not a
Presbyterian minister, although the cut and colouring of his clothing
might have led one to believe that he was so; for he wore a sword. The
same mark showed that he was not an artisan, but did not so precisely
prove that he was not a trader; for more than one shop-keeper in those
days assumed the distinctive mark of a higher class when he got from
behind his counter and went into a part of the town where he was not
known. Yet, had he been one of this butterfly tribe, the rest of his
apparel would have seemed more in accordance with his assumed rank.
He was not a courtier; for where was the gold, and the lace, and the
embroidery? He was not a physician; for there was no red roquelaure,
no gold-headed cane; and who could pretend to call himself doctor
without such appendages?
He seemed to have been riding, too; for he had large boots on; and his
hat and coat were somewhat dusty. In every other respect, he was a
very indefinite sort of personage; but yet, of three nursery-maids who
passed him consecutively, taking out children for an airing, as it is
called--as if there was any such thing as air in London--two turned
their heads, to have another look at his face; and one stopped by the
posts which fenced the water, and, while affecting to contemplate the
same objects as himself, gave a simpering look towards him, as if to
intimate that she had no objection to a little pleasant conversation.
The hard-hearted young man, however, took no notice of her; and she
walked on, thinking him a fool, in which she was mistaken.
The Square was now vacant for several minutes, longer, perhaps, than
it ever is in the present day, or Than it usually was then; but the
fact is, that almost all the possessors of houses in the Square, the
elder members of their families, and a considerable number of their
servants, had gone down to Westminster, to hear the impeachment of
Lord Bolingbroke and the Earl of Oxford. It is true, a footman would
occasionally pass from one door to another; and a cook, with a
night-cap on his head, an apron before him, and a knife at his side, was
seen to ascend the area-steps of a house in the corner, and look out
with an impatient expression of countenance, as if the fish had not
arrived, or the butcher had failed in punctuality. The only other
persons who appeared in the Square were, the stranger gazing at the
children, the children in the boat, and an elderly gentleman who,
under the name of tutor, had come out to watch them, but who, seated
on a garden chair, had forgotten them, and Bolingbroke and Oxford, and
every thing else on earth, in the pages of a book containing select
fragments of Hesiod and Pindar.
The sun was shining brightly and warmly into the Square; the smoky
fluid which Londoners mistake for air tempered the light, and gave a
misty softness to the surrounding objects; and altogether St. James's
Square seemed a very pleasant sort of place, considering that it
formed part of the suburbs of a great city.
There was nothing remarkable in any man staying there for a few
minutes to look about him and enjoy himself, especially if he came
through any of the dark dens in which commerce carries on her busy
warfare in the heart of London; for the contrast was very great. But
the stranger stayed more than a few minutes. A whole quarter of an
hour elapsed without his changing his position, till at length a
curious fantastic-looking man, with a great quantity of riband at his
knees and clothing of very gaudy colours, came up to his side, and
spoke to him in a low tone.
The new-comer had some excuse for attempting to ornament his person;
which, to say truth, greatly needed it. He was short, probably not
more than five feet four inches in height; but he made up in width,
especially across the hips, which would have required the full extent
of a Dutchman's nether garment to cover them decently; and the late
King William III., of blessed memory, might well have looked upon him
with that favour which he is supposed to have bestowed very liberally
upon his countrymen; not indeed that our friend came actually and
personally from the shores of Holland, though he certainly looked very
like a Dutchman. His features were large and by no means of the most
delicate symmetry, the nose having been originally set somewhat awry
on the face, and its obliquity being rendered more conspicuous by
sundry warts, knots, and excrescences, with which indeed the whole of
his countenance was amply provided. The eyes, however, were good,
large, open, merry blue eyes; and, though certainly as ugly a
personage as one could hope to see, there was yet something--strange
to say--very winning in his look, notwithstanding the vast Ramillies
wig by which he had contrived to add to his native ugliness.
Approaching from the side of Charing Cross, with a rolling, somewhat
consequential, step, this personage advanced to the stranger who had
been standing in the square, and accosted him in a familiar and
confidential tone.
"It is settled, Master Smeaton," he said, speaking in a low voice.
"They have carried it by a large majority. It would have done you good
to be present. I never saw such attitudes."
"It would have been madness in me to go," replied the other. "Who
moved the impeachment?"
"Why that depends upon which impeachment you mean," answered his
companion. "Walpole moved against Bolingbroke, with one hand clapped
in his coat-pocket and the other stretched out for full five minutes,
just like that of my nymph with the flower-basket. I could have sworn
it had been cast in lead."
"Little use of impeaching Bolingbroke," observed the young man
addressed as Smeaton. "He is safe enough, depend upon it; but it was
not of him I thought. Bolingbroke with all his abilities is useless to
any party, and would be detrimental to most. He has contrived to
obtain a character for want of principle, which makes most men doubt
and fear him."
"Principle, my dear sir!" said the other, with a low laugh, "what is
the good of principle? 'Tis but an obstinate adherence to notions once
acquired, after the circumstances have changed that rendered them
worth having. Principle is a lane with a stone wall on each side and
no room to turn the carriage. Principle is one of those cold, hard,
stone statues which, when once broken, there's an end of; not like my
dear divinities of lead which, should anything go wrong with them, I
can throw into the melting-pot again and bring out in a new shape. No,
no; give me, in ethics and in art, pliable materials which will make a
Jupiter one day and a dancing fawn the next; a Juno now, and then the
Queen of Love. Principle, forsooth! Who has ever heard of principle
since the blessed Restoration?"
The young man smiled and mused, and then asked abruptly: "But what of
Oxford? Did _that_ pass as easily?"
"O yes," replied his companion, "more so, if possible. The hounds are
always more eager when the game is in sight. Lord Coningsby did it
very well, with grave emphasis and a grand air. Ye gods and goddesses,
how he did bespatter the noble Earl! He must declare himself now, if
ever."
"Is there any good in his declaring himself?" demanded Smeaton. "Many
a man declares himself when it is too late. Twelve months ago, he
might have done something; now, golden opportunity has slipped through
his fingers, and he is powerless. Yet I do believe he is a profound
wise man, if it were not for that vacillating spirit, so often the
stumbling-block of great abilities. I have a great mind to go back to
France, Van Noost. I do not like my errand."
"Stay awhile, stay awhile," replied the other. "Just come with me, and
you shall soon see whether Oxford is as powerless as you think. You
shall have proof positive with your own eyes and ears. If he can but
be got to speak and act, the power will not be wanting. I tell you,"
he added, in a lower tone, "fully three-fifths of all England are firm
loyalists; and every third man, amongst the Whigs, from Marlborough
and Sunderland, down to Townley and Chudleigh, would throw up their
hats and cry, 'Long live King James!' if they did but see him in the
way of prospering. All the common people, too, are of one mind."
"Ah, the fickle commons!" said Smeaton, thoughtfully, putting his arm
through that of his companion. "Where are you going to take me?"
"Only down to the cockpit," replied Van Noost, "to see Oxford return
from the House."
"Was he there?" asked Smeaton, in a tone of some surprise.
"Yes," answered his companion. "He came down early to the House in
case the bill should be brought up at once; and there he sat as cool
as a watering-pot. But he must be coming away now, since his
impeachment is voted, and a committee appointed to draw up the
articles."
"He shows firmness in these dangerous circumstances, at least,"
remarked Smeaton. "Perhaps he may be inclined to show vigour also."
While thus speaking, they had entered Pall Mall, which presented a
very different appearance from that which it displays in the present
day, as well as from that which it had borne half a century before.
There were no longer doable rows of trees on the one side and detached
houses, with scattered gardens, on the other; but the buildings were
still very irregular; and, occasionally, an open piece of ground with
a tall poplar or two intervened between a princely mansion--such as
Marlborough House, or Schomberg House--and a common inn, such as The
Sugar-loaf, or Richards's Tavern.
As Pall Mall was, at this time, a favourite place of residence for
strangers visiting the metropolis, the thoroughfare was somewhat
crowded; and numerous sedan-chairs were passing along, carrying
gentlemen to visits or to chocolate-houses. The footpath, though
famous for its mud in wet weather, was now quite dry; and the feet of
the chairmen, as they trotted along in the middle of the road, raised
clouds of dust very inconvenient to the eyes.
It might be this circumstance which caused Van Noost's companion to
press his hat further over his brows, as he entered this street; and
quicken his pace to the discomposure of the other's somewhat jaunty
steps. A distant shout, however, seemed to give wings to good Van
Noost's feet; for, whispering--"Come on--come on here, across, or we
shall be too late. He is issuing out of the House. I know the bark of
those dirty muzzles well," he darted to the other side of the way;
and, to the surprise of his companion, entered a dingy apothecary's
shop, indicated by the sign of a golden pestle and mortar over the
door.
"Good morning, Mr. Gingle," he said, to a man who was pounding
something in a very large mortar, and raising an inconceivable smell.
"Will you just let us pass by your back way into the park? My friend
and I want to see the Earl of Oxford come up from the House."
"Go on, go on, Van Noost," replied the shop-keeper, sneezing into the
mortar, and hardly raising his eyes. "You know the way; but don't
leave the door open."
With this permission, the two companions hurried on through a little
back-parlour into a small yard behind the house, and thence, by a
doorway in the wall into a narrow passage which led them by some steps
into the mall of the park.
As soon as they issued from between the brick walls, the roaring voice
of the multitude was again heard, louder and nearer; and, hurrying
forward, they passed up a narrow passage out of the park, the door of
which, in the two former reigns, had been kept closed, but which was
now generally left open as an entrance from the Spring Gardens.
Thence, threading numerous narrow passages amongst low pot-houses,
mingled in a strange way with finer buildings, and crossing what was
called Cromwell's Yard, they entered the world of coffee-houses and
taverns, which, at that time, occupied the space known by the name of
Charing Cross. Carriages now roll over ground which, in those days,
was covered with numerous dwellings; but the thoroughfare was not less
crowded then than now; for the multitude, ever thronging to and fro,
was compressed into a narrower space; and, on that day especially, the
numbers were so great that it was hardly possible for any one to make
his way along the street.
At the moment when the two whom we have mentioned more particularly
were added to the rest of the human beings there assembled, a sort of
compulsory motion was given to the crowd, some being driven forward in
the direction of the Haymarket, and others pushed back against the
houses behind them, by the advance of an enormous mob up the centre or
carriage-way of the street, in the midst of which might be seen,
towering above the ocean of heads, a large, clumsy, but highly
ornamented, carriage, drawn by four powerful horses. Hats were waving
in the air, handkerchiefs fluttering from many a window; and several
thousand voices were heard shouting all at once, and "making the
welkin ring." Some cried one thing and some another; but the general
meaning was alike.
One roared forth, "Oxford for ever!" another, "High Church, High
Church and Sacheverel!" another, "Down with the Whigs!" and then again
might be heard the shouts of "Ormond, the Duke of Ormond for ever, and
away with the Hanover rats!"
Not contented with thus asserting their own temporary opinions, the
sturdy ruffians of the mob insisted that all persons whom they passed
should give some sign of consenting to the same; and any one who
hesitated seemed likely to be roughly handled.
"Off with your hat, and cry 'Oxford for ever!'" roared one fellow in
the garb of a sailor, approaching the spot where Van Noost and Smeaton
stood.
The latter did not obey the injunction, but remained covered and
silent. Van Noost, however, raised his hat and shouted readily; and
the man passed on, swaggering and bawling with his companions, and
following the carriage of the Earl of Oxford as it moved slowly
forward.
The crowd of more respectable persons, collected at both sides of the
street, began then to disperse, and Van Noost was turning round to
walk away with Smeaton, when a sharp tap upon his shoulder made him
suddenly pause and look behind him. At the same moment, a calm clear
voice, with a somewhat sarcastic tone, addressed him by name, saying--
"Well, my good friend, Van Noost, you have shouted loudly for Harley
to-day, which is generous, seeing that he has little chance of paying
the obligation."
"Paid already, my good lord," replied Van Noost, turning round, not
in, the least discomposed, and addressing a thin plainly-dressed man
of the middle age. "He bought two nymphs and two dairy maids of toe,
no longer ago than this time twelvemonth--size of life--dairymaids
with pails upon their heads, nymphs with cornucopias in their hands,
to say nothing of a little black boy with a dolphin to be put in the
middle of a fountain. Surely I am bound to cry 'Long live the Earl of
Oxford!' If your lordship will patronise me in the like manner, and
should you chance to get into a scrape so as to win the applause of
the mob, I will throw up my hat and roar, 'Long live the Earl of
Stair!' with the best of them."
"Well, well," replied the Earl, with a smile, "only take care what you
are doing, my good friend; for, though being whipped for a libel has
often made a bookseller's fortune, yet the being sent to Newgate for
sedition would not greatly benefit a leaden figure-maker, I imagine."
"I did it on compulsion, noble Lord," replied Van Noost, in an
indifferent tone. "I make it a point never to quarrel with a mob; for
I am a curious piece of statuary, not so easily mended as one of my
own figures; and I don't believe any king on earth would help to mend
me if I chanced to get head, or bone, broken by resisting the rabble.
Would you not have done the same in my place?"
"No," replied the Earl, who seemed for some reason willing to prolong
the conversation. "I should have done just as this worthy gentleman
who is with you did; kept my hat on, and remained silent. Besides, my
good friend, your leanings are well known, although one would have
thought that the son of jolly old Van Noost, who came over with King
William, would not have inherited a vast store of Jacobitism."
"It was my mother's property I came into," replied Van Noost, with a
laugh; "for, though my father was a Dutchman, my mother was a thorough
Englishwoman, Betsy Hall by name. My father never meddled with
politics, good man; but my mother was a staunch Tory, and a wise one;
for she always cried when there was anything to be got, and held her
tongue when there was no use in crying. But how happens your Lordship
to be on foot amongst the rabble?" he continued, moving as if to pass
the Earl who was right in his way. "Have you not been down to the
House to see these gay doings?"
"Not I," replied the Earl of Stair. "My business is to stop intrigues,
and not to mix with them."
"A hard cut, that, at your friends, my Lord," said Van Noost, bowing
low, and taking off his hat. "Bob Walpole wouldn't thank you, I
think."
While this short conversation had been going on, the Earl of Stair had
more than once directed his eyes, with a quiet inquiring glance,
towards Van Noost's companion. That personage, however, had in an easy
manner, without the slightest appearance of effort, contrived to keep
his face averted, till the movement of Van Noost in advance obliged
him to pass the Earl, who then got a full but momentary view of his
countenance. The two then walked on; and as soon as they were five or
six steps distant, Lord Stair beckoned to a man who was standing at
the door of the Rummer tavern, and, on his running up, whispered to
him--
"Follow the two persons with whom I have been speaking, see whither
they go, and watch, for a little, if they soon separate. Then come and
tell me."
Without a word of reply, the man glided away, and soon gained sight of
Van Noost and Smeaton as they walked on. He kept at a certain distance
behind them, dogged them round the corners of streets, sometimes
crossed over the way, and watched them from the opposite side,
sometimes even passed them, and then stopped to look at something that
seemed to attract his attention. As the crowd in the streets
diminished, however, his office became more difficult of execution;
and his man[oe]uvres were speedily detected by a quick eye that was
upon him.
"There is a man following us, Van Noost," said Smeaton, in a low tone,
just as they were entering Piccadilly. "He has dogged us ever since we
left Charing Cross."
"He is watching you, not me," answered Van Noost, with a laugh. "My
character and domicile are too well known to need watching. See what
it is to have an established reputation. But you must not go home, for
that might be dangerous. Come on to my little place--I will provide
you such dinner as I can give, and will get you out the back way,
after dark. In the meantime, we can talk over what is next to be done
with Oxford."
The other did not reply, but walked on with his companion. They took
their way straight up Piccadilly, which was then still frequently
called the Reading Road. Towards the top of the Haymarket, Piccadilly
bore somewhat the appearance of a street, although a great number of
the first houses were inns for the accommodation of strangers coming
to London; but as one proceeded in a westerly direction, the country
gained the day over the town; and Piccadilly wore much the appearance
of that suburb called Kensington Gore. On the right hand, especially,
were many splendid mansions, surrounded by large gardens, affecting a
rural air, commencing, I believe, with the houses of Sir John Clarges
and Lady Stanhope, and going on with Queensbury House, Burlington
House, Sir Thomas Bond's house, (through part of which has been
carried the well-known Bond-street,) Berkeley House, with its splendid
garden, and several others, built and decorated at an expense, and
with a degree of luxury, far beyond the means of any but a very few of
our wealthiest countrymen of the present day.
Beyond these splendid mansions, as the two walked on towards Hyde
Park, came a very different class of houses, not in continuous rows,
though here and there two or three were even then beginning to lean
their shoulders together as if for mutual support. Between the
buildings were still gardens, and even fields; and the houses
themselves seldom soared above the rank of the dwelling of some
inferior artist, or some low public-house or waggoner's inn, of which
last there was an immense number, under signs which are still
perpetuated in the names of streets; the Half Moon, the Black Horse,
the White Horse, the Crown, the Dog and Duck, etc. Round the doors of
these, and on the benches before them, a number of people were
congregated, all talking and debating, and generally discussing
politics; for the Englishman has been, during many ages, rather a
political than a politic animal, easily led in any course, it is true,
by one who knows his weak points; but having a wonderfully good
opinion of his own capacity, notwithstanding, and firmly convinced
that he is fit for the rule and governance of states. The names of
Harley, Ormond, Bolingbroke, Walpole, Coningsby, Cowper, met the ear
at every step; but, without apparently taking any notice, Smeaton and
his companion walked on, still dogged by the man who had been set to
watch their proceedings, and who kept on the other side of the way,
under shadow of the trees.
About a hundred yards beyond the grove of trees surrounding the
reservoir, but on the other side of the Reading Road, they came to a
house, standing a little back, with a paved court before it, and of
which the upper half of the lower and the lower half of the upper
windows were covered by an immense sheet of painted canvass
representing a variety of curious-looking utensils, mingled with
figures of men and women, some in a state of nudity, and some clothed
in the quaint and starched fashion of the day, while an inscription
underneath announced that Jacob Harris constructed, repaired, and kept
in order, fountains of every kind, size, and description, and made
chairs and garden-seats, ruined temples, and summer-houses, with
various other devices for the ornamenting of parks, pleasure-grounds,
and gardens. The description of his talents was long and minute; but
Van Noost seemed to hold them in but small esteem; for, as he passed
by, and cast his eyes upon the inscription, he said, with a sort of
grunt--
"Ha! he's forced to come to me for all his statuary. He can't do
that."
Some three or four hundred yards farther on, every step giving the
country greater predominance over the town, and a little on this side
of the spot where Apsley House now stands, was a small dwelling of two
low stories, retreating from the high road, and having a garden before
it of about a quarter of an acre in extent. This garden was ornamented
with various fruit trees, the medlar, the mulberry, and the
ditch-loving elder tree, notorious for its wine; but the principal
decoration consisted in a whole host of figures, as large as life,
cast in lead, and by no means ill-executed. One might have thought
that a living mob had taken possession of the garden, had not the
heterogeneous costume of the figures themselves denoted their real
nature. Almost all of them were painted "to the life." Here were
soldiers presenting their firelocks as if in the act of shooting at
you; dairy maids and country lasses with baskets on their heads, long
bodices, and gowns tucked through the pocket-holes; mowers whetting
their scythes--old Time amongst the rest; negroes, kneeling and
supporting sundials, "very black and beautiful," as dear Washington
Irving says in his negro cosmogony; to say nothing of fair-skinned
nymphs as naked as they were born. The garden was shut in from the
road by a rustic fence, with a small gate in the centre; and before
that gate Van Noost stopped, and opened it for his companion to pass
in.
As soon as Smeaton had entered the garden, the statuary (for so I
suppose we must call him), paused and looked round. He instantly
perceived the man who had followed them, planted on the opposite side
of the way; and, carefully locking the gate, he followed his companion
through his grove of leaden figures, pointing out to him, with the
mingled affection of a parent and an artist, the various excellences
of his on productions. He had no modesty upon the subject--it was a
quality indeed which did not greatly embarrass him on any subject,
and, probably, Praxiteles did not value the immortal works of his
hand, whether in marble or ivory, so highly as Jacob Van Noost
estimated his own productions.
"See that Apollo," he exclaimed, pointing to a figure of the Belvidere
God. "I have caught the fire and the spirit, you see; and, as for the
grace, I think I may venture to say that the little elevation which I
have given to the left arm greatly increases it, as well as the
dignity."
Smeaton walked on with more speed than was quite flattering to his
companion. He was a good-natured creature, however, Van Noost; and he
merely gave his shoulders a slight shrug, hurried his own pace, and,
arriving before the other at the little old green blistered door,
threw it open to give him admission, pointing with his hand, at the
same time, to the entrance of a small parlour, the clean-washed and
neatly-sanded floor of which you reached by descending a single step.
He then shut and locked the house-door, hung up his hat upon a peg
behind it, and, entering the parlour, placed a chair for his guest,
with a low bow, saying--
"Here you are safe, my lord; and here you had better remain till the
grey of the evening. Ay, your noble father often sat in that chair,
speaking bad Dutch against my father's bad English, examining his
beautiful models, and choosing out such as he wished to possess."