Sir John Newark was in a peculiarly gay and lively mood when his noble
guest descended to breakfast. He ventured upon a jest or two--a thing
rare with him--and discoursed fluently upon matters of literature and
affairs of state; not very profoundly, indeed, yet speciously and
well. After the meal, he asked Smeaton when he would like to ride over
to Mount Place, and the young nobleman replied--
"In a day or two."
Sir John seemed surprised and a little mortified.
"I understood your Lordship," he said, in a cold tone, "that you would
go to-day, when we were talking of this matter yesterday; and, judging
that it might be as well, that Mount Place should be free of any
unpleasant guests, I sent intimation to Sir James this morning that
such would be the case. True, I should not have meddled. Busybodies
are always doing mischief."
"It matters not," rejoined Smeaton, good-humouredly; for his heart was
opened by its own happiness. "I can ride over to-day as well as
to-morrow; and, as you have sent, I will do so."
"Pray do not put yourself to any inconvenience," said Sir John Newark,
with all his urbanity restored. "I only feared it might mortify the
good old man."
"Nay, I will not do that," answered his guest. "I will set off
immediately."
"Perhaps you had better wait an hour or two," remarked Sir John, "in
case our friend should have any preparations to make."
"Oh, no," returned Smeaton. "I will take the morning ride. The less of
ceremony on such occasions the better. Am I to have the pleasure of
your company?"
Sir John Newark shook his head with a rueful countenance, saying:
"I shall spend the next two or three hours less agreeably. I have some
persons coming to me upon matters of dull business; but, if they leave
me in time, I will join you at Mount Place. And now, my dear Lord, let
me revert to a subject which has been mentioned between us before.
Doubtless Sir James Mount will speak to you about the sale of Keanton.
If so, you will hear what he says and decide accordingly. His offer
may meet your views, or it may not. Should you decline in his case,
and yet wish to raise some money without parting with your property, I
have forty thousand pounds quite at your service upon mortgage, if you
choose to take it. The estate, I believe, is fully equal to such a
burden, still leaving it your own."
They were alone on the terrace at this moment; and, what might have
come next, I cannot say; for their conversation was interrupted by
Richard Newark running up and enquiring whether Smeaton was about to
ride out, as he was wild for a gallop.
"You cannot go with Colonel Smeaton to-day, Richard," replied his
father, gravely. "He is going to Sir James Mount's, where your company
may not be agreeable."
The lad gave a shy sidelong glance at his father, and then, instantly
resuming his light reckless tone, answered:
"I'll ride with him part of the way, then. There can be no harm in
that."
Sir John Newark frowned; but Richard pursued his point, and, catching
Smeaton by the arm, exclaimed:
"Come, let us go and see the horses made ready."
Smeaton followed him to the stable; and, though he returned for a few
minutes to the house in order to make some change in his dress, he saw
his entertainer no more that day.
In less than twenty minutes, he and Richard Newark were on horseback,
and, followed by the young nobleman's own servant and another man,
were riding away in the direction of Mount Place. They spurred on at a
rapid rate, and every minute or two Smeaton could see the boy's eyes
turned to his face with a sort of inquiring look; but he took no
notice--leaving his young companion to explain himself if he thought
fit.
"Don't stay long at Mount Place, Colonel," said Richard, after they
had gone about half a mile. "Mount Place is a rat-trap."
"I do not understand what you mean, Dick," replied Smeaton; "but I do
not think I am likely to be caught."
"What I mean is plain enough," pursued the lad. "I have heard that, in
the year ninety-two, a whole party of gentlemen were taken at Mount
Place, and then again, later still, some more. The old man himself got
off once; but the next time he was taken with the rest, and was
eighteen months in prison. Either the lawyers found out that he was
not a man, but a monkey, and did not hang him, or else they could
prove nothing against him; but they hanged one or two of the others,
or did something with them. So, if I were you, I would not stay long
at Mount Place, for fear of being made to chew unlawful bacon."
Smeaton smiled; but at the same time demanded, in a grave tone--
"Have you any particular cause for your warning, Richard?"
"No--no," replied the lad, hesitating a little; "only two messengers
went off from Ale this morning--one to Mount Place, and the other to
Exeter. I have known harm happen after messengers went off, especially
when they have gone so early."
Smeaton paused thoughtfully ere he replied.
"I will not stay long," he said at length; "it is but a visit of
ceremony."
"Then now I will take some other road," rejoined Richard Newark; "but
mind you are home before dinner, or I shall think they have kidnapped
you."
"No fear of that," said his companion; "but, as your father evidently
did not like your going at all, I think we had better, as you say,
take separate paths."
"How goes it with you and Emmeline?" asked Richard, lowering his
voice, and giving a gay look towards his companion. "Sad work, noble
gentleman! The poor doves in their separate cages have been forced to
silence their cooing. Ah, they will be obliged to come to me, in the
end, to help them." And, laughing lightly, he turned his horse's head
and galloped away.
Smeaton pursued his onward course, directed, from time to time, by the
servant of Sir John Newark, who accompanied him; and at the end of
little more than an hour came to a part of the country where trim
hedgerows and well-cultivated fields showed the neighbourhood of some
gentleman's seat. At length, a long and beautiful avenue of tall elms
was seen, with the road between the trees, sloping gently upwards, and
terminating at what seemed a spacious lawn, with a handsome house
raised upon a high terrace above.
"That is Mount Place, sir," said Sir John Newark's servant; and
Smeaton, telling him that he should have no farther occasion for his
attendance, rode on with his own man.
His old military habits led him to mark everything around him, in
travelling, with greater attention than men usually bestow on small
objects; and his eyes were soon withdrawn from the house and the
scaffold-poles with which the two wings were disfigured, to fresh
marks of horses' hoofs deeply indented in the somewhat soft road.
These traces were very numerous, and it seemed as if a large cavalcade
had recently passed up towards the house. Without slackening his
speed, the young nobleman looked to the right and left, in order to
discover, if possible, whether this cavalcade had been a disciplined
body or not; but the marks of the horses' hoofs were so irregular,
that the suspicion which had first crossed his mind soon vanished. He
easily perceived that some of the beasts had been going at a canter,
others at a trot; some keeping the middle of the road, and some
running upon the green turf under the trees.
Riding on at a good pace, however, the young nobleman soon approached
what he had conceived to be a lawn, which now turned out to be a large
grass court, or bowling-green, surrounded by dwarf walls, with the
road sweeping round, on either side, to the terrace above. He could
perceive servants in gaudy liveries standing at the principal door of
the house; but there was no appearance of horses; and, trotting on, he
dismounted and inquired for Sir James.
"He is within, sir, and expects you," replied the worthy old
blue-bottle whom he addressed; and then, turning to Smeaton's servant,
he added, "Take the horses round to the court at the back."
But Smeaton interfered promptly. "No, no," he said. "Walk them up and
down here upon the terrace. My stay can be but very short."
Thus saying, he turned and followed the servant into the house, passed
through a great hall, and up a fine old oak staircase. As he ascended,
he heard many voices above; but, without hesitation, he went on. The
moment after, the door of a large room was thrown open; and he found
himself in the presence of eight or nine persons besides the master of
the house.
Smeaton was greatly annoyed at the unexpected position in which he was
placed; but his urbanity did not forsake him; and, with good-humoured
cordiality, he met the foolish old magistrate, who came forward and
addressed him somewhat after the following fashion:--
"Dear me, my noble, friend--noble friend--noble friend, I did not
expect you so soon--not so soon--not quite so soon; or I should have
been at the door to receive you--receive you--receive you. Let me
introduce you to Sir Harry Blake--Sir Harry, Colonel Smeaton--Lord
Talboys, Colonel Smeaton." And so he went on round the whole room,
repeating each name three or four times with vast volubility.
Smeaton bowed round; and then, drawing himself up somewhat stiffly to
check any unpleasant communications which he apprehended might be
made, commenced a conversation with Sir James Mount upon the weather
and the beautiful scenery round his house. He could see looks of
surprise and impatience upon the countenance of several of those
present; but he went on in the same strain, giving little opportunity
to his host for a change of topic. At length, however, a square-built
black-faced man, who was present, cut across the conversation,
saying--"I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Sir James; but it is
high time that we should consider the more important objects of our
meeting. I suppose Colonel Smeaton, or by whatever name we are to know
him, will take part in our deliberations."
Smeaton instantly caught at the opportunity afforded him. "Really, I
have to apologise," he said, "for intruding at such a moment. I
expected to find you, my dear sir, quite alone; and, had I known that
any important business was to be transacted here to-day, I should not
have presented myself. I will now immediately withdraw, and trust to
have the pleasure of seeing you again before I quit England."
"But, my dear sir, you do not know--you do not know--you do not know,"
cried Sir James. "Our meeting was quite of a sudden--quite of a
sudden--quite of a sudden. The intelligence that General Foster is in
arms for the King--for the King--for the King, and the rumour that his
Majesty--his Majesty has actually landed--"
"This is serious news indeed, Sir James," interrupted Smeaton, still
drawing towards the door; "but as I have no information myself upon
these matters, and have no authority of any kind, I cannot afford you
advice or assistance. My visit was merely one of compliment in return
for yours; and, as I have business at Keanton, I will take my leave."
With these words, and with a bow to the assembled gentlemen, who
seemed a good deal disconcerted, he quitted the room and descended the
stairs, followed to his horse's side by Sir James Mount, pouring forth
apologies and explanations to which Smeaton turned a deaf ear. He
contented himself, as his only reply, with asking the nearest way to
Keanton; and, having received information from one of the old servants
of the house, (Sir James himself being too much confused by all that
had occurred, to answer him distinctly), he rode away, somewhat
indignant at the situation in which he had been placed. He judged, and
judged rightly, that the persons whom he had seen at Mount Place had
been gathered together in haste on the first intimation of his coming,
with the view of committing him to participation in the rash schemes
which were then beginning to develope themselves; and he clearly saw
that, notwithstanding the studious manner in which the old magistrate
had called him Colonel Smeaton, his real name and rank had been
communicated to every one present.
But other, and even more painful, considerations than those which
affected him personally, now pressed upon his attention. The
intelligence that a gallant, but not very discreet, officer was
actually in arms in a desperate cause, and the rumour that an
unfortunate prince, who, up to this time, had been suffering solely
for the errors of his ancestors, had cast himself madly into the
difficulties and dangers of an ill-considered insurrection against the
existing government, grieved him deeply. By principle or by prejudice,
as the reader may think fit to call it, he was attached to the exiled
house of Stuart; his ancestors had shed their blood and lost their
property in its defence; all the traditions of his family were in
favour of its cause; and perhaps no man might have felt more ready to
unsheath the sword for its re-establishment on the throne of England,
had not many things occurred within the last five-and-twenty years to
weaken in him that hereditary attachment which had brought ruin upon
his father. His early life had been spent at the little Court of St.
Germain, and all that he had witnessed of the mean intrigues of that
court, and the shameless ingratitude of its princes towards some of
their best and most faithful servants, together with the
licentiousness, the weakness, the frivolity, and the baseness of the
principal persons who surrounded them, if not of the princes
themselves, had produced a feeling of disgust which, although it could
not alter his view of the supposed justice of their cause, put an end
to everything like zeal in their favour. He felt with Addison's
friend, the poet Tickell, in the "Epistle to a Gentleman at Avignon:"
"From James and Rome I feel my heart decline,
And fear, O Brunswick, 'twill be wholly thine;
Yet still his share thy rival will contest,
And still the double claim divides my breast;
The fate of James with pitying eyes I view,
And wish my homage were not Brunswick's due;
To James; my _passions_ and my _weakness_ guide,
But _reason_ sways me to the victor's side."
The progress of the human mind, and the development of more just
notions of government and of the rights of people as well as of
princes, had been great during the twenty-five years to which I have
alluded. Smeaton had mingled with many classes in many countries, had
heard opinions and arguments which were never uttered in the courts of
Kings, and it was impossible for him to feel in the cause of the house
of Stuart that same devoted attachment which had led his father to
submit to every loss without murmuring, and to bear ill-usage without
complaint. Nevertheless, he felt much pain at the thought of all the
disastrous results which might accrue from the enterprise which had
now commenced, and his ride onward towards his mother's property
was a melancholy one. We must leave him, however, for a little, to
inquire into what followed his somewhat abrupt withdrawal from the
house of Sir James Mount. That worthy magistrate--shrugging his
shoulders, confused and irritated, but thoroughly convinced that
everything he had done or could do was perfectly just, proper, and
discreet--returned to his companions above, and found them in a state
of great excitement. They all fell upon him at once, declaring that he
had altogether misled them.
"Why, this man seems as cold a Whig," exclaimed one, "as any Hanover
rat that ever swam over the sea from Bremen."
"You represented to me," said another, "that he came over expressly to
ascertain what could be done for the good cause."
"You invited me this morning to meet and consult with him," said a
third. "I have your note in my pocket at this moment."
"I doubt whether he is the Earl of Eskdale at all," said a fourth.
"One of that family would not be so lukewarm."
Here Sir James Mount himself, who had, hitherto, only replied by
shrugs and grimaces, found himself on more certain ground, and replied
boldly,
"Why, I know him, Sir Harry. I have seen him myself at Nancy--at
Nancy--at Nancy. There is not a doubt--there is not a doubt--there is
not a doubt of who he is. As to his coldness, it may be all
discretion. He came expecting to see and consult with me alone; and,
as to my inviting you here, gentlemen--inviting you here--inviting you
here, I did it for the best, and on good advice. Look here, what Sir
John Newark says."
And, drawing a note from his pocket, he read as follows:--
"My worshipful and excellent friend, I write you these few words to
tell you that our friend, the Colonel, will be over with you this
morning, to speak upon the important business you wot of. He seems
perfectly confident of his own safety, and to entertain no objection
to meeting any one--in which, I think, he is rash; but I would have
nobody at my house except discreet people, if I were in your case.
Keanton is so near you that, most likely, he will go over there before
he fully decides upon what he will do. It is a very valuable property;
and, I should think, ought to produce a good sum if sold."
"What he means about Keanton--about Keanton--about Keanton, I cannot
divine," said Sir James.
"He means it as a blind," replied one of the others; "and, in case
his letter were to fall into any other hands, he would vow that it all
referred to some matter of ordinary business. Ah! Sir John Newark, Sir
John Newark! we all know him well. He is not to be trusted."
"Stay a minute," said Lord Talboys, "The letter may bear a different
interpretation. Sir John distinctly says that the Earl will decide
upon nothing till he has been to Keanton. Therefore we could not
expect him to open himself to us now. Then again, this matter as to
the sale of Keanton may imply that he wishes first to see what funds
he shall have at command in order to raise men. You say he is a very
celebrated officer, Sir James?"
"Very distinguished--very distinguished--very distinguished indeed,"
replied the old gentleman.
"You had better burn the letter, at all events," said the black-faced
man, who was at once the shrewdest and most determined of the party.
"Here, I will strike a light with a pistol-flint."
"No, no, no," said Sir James Mount. "I may have to show it again--show
it again. I expect several other friends; but he came so soon--he came
so soon--he came so soon. Hark! I hear some of them coming."
Almost as he spoke, one of the servants entered the room abruptly,
with a face in which the nose alone was rosy; and his aspect at once
alarmed the master of the house.
"What is the matter?--what is the matter?--what is the matter?" he
exclaimed.
"Why, your worship, there is a body of foot soldiers half way up the
avenue," replied the man, "and some forty or fifty horses have just
ridden up to the back. I, am sure I don't know how they got into the
park."
The confusion and disarray which now prevailed was extraordinary. Poor
Sir James Mount was at what is commonly called his wit's end. Some
were for running down and gaining their horses as fast as possible to
escape. Others were for attempting to defend the house, and others
were actually at the door of the room to sneak away, when the voice of
Sir Harry Blake was heard, exclaiming--
"Stay, stay. Every one stay. There is no danger whatever, if we act
like brave and prudent men. Should these soldiers come with any
suspicion, we have only to say, that we have met as a body of
magistrates and gentlemen to concert means for the preservation of the
peace of our district, very sinister rumours having reached us of
risings in different parts of the country. No one can deny our right
so to meet, or even say that it was not our duty to do so. Bring a
light directly, Joseph," he continued, addressing the servant. "Offer
no opposition whatever to whomsoever may be at the head of the
soldiers. But the light. The first thing is the light."
As he spoke, he drew the note he had received from Sir James Mount
from his pocket, and threw it and another paper into the fire-place.
All who were present followed his example; and, as the light did not
come as soon as they expected, the pile was set on fire by some
gunpowder and a pistol-flint, and every scrap of paper was utterly
destroyed. This was not done a moment too soon; for the sparks were
still wandering about in the tinder, when the high sheriff of the
county entered, accompanied by the elderly general officer, in the
brown suit, who had played a quiet but important part at the meeting
of the magistrates in Exeter.
"I am sorry to disturb you, gentlemen," said the high sheriff; "but
you have met here this morning in somewhat unusual numbers for
purposes which require explanation."
"Methinks, to a magistrate of your prudence and experience," said Sir
Harry Blake, "but little explanation would be required, if, as I take
it for granted, the sinister rumours which have reached us of armed
risings in various parts of the country have come to your ears also.
But explanation is very easily given. We met in these perilous
circumstances to devise means for preserving the peace of this
district, and I think you will not deny, Mr. High Sheriff, that it was
our duty to do so."
"I was not aware, Sir Harry," replied the gentleman whom he addressed,
with a quiet sneer, "that your zeal for the peace of our Lord the King
was so warm."
"Warm enough to have left a strong smell of burnt paper behind it,"
said the general, looking towards the fire-place. "Pray, what may have
been those papers just destroyed?"
"Some incendiary addresses," replied Sir Harry, readily, with a laugh.
"We thought the flame that they have just made there might be less
dangerous than any other they could light up in the country."
"Ha!" said the old general. "Nevertheless, Mr. High Sheriff, I must
call upon you to do your duty."
The high sheriff looked round the group assembled, and then said--
"I think I know every face here present; but there is one gentleman
whom we expected to have the pleasure of meeting, and who is not
amongst you. Has the Earl of Eskdale been here? Or is he expected?"
"No person of that name has been here," replied one of the gentlemen,
boldly; and then, with a spice of malice, he added, "One Colonel
Smeaton was here a short time ago; but, not liking our proceedings, he
took his departure."
"Oh, Colonel Henry Smeaton," said the sheriff. "That will do." At the
same moment, the general took a step towards the door.
"Then I suppose we may as well break up," said Sir Harry Blake; but
the high sheriff waved his hand, while his military companion quitted
the room.
"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said. "I must request the pleasure of the
company of every one of you to Exeter. Informations have been sworn,
of which you shall have copies. Here are warrants against five of you,
which it will be my painful duty to see executed; and summonses have
been issued against the rest to come in and surrender, which it will
be well for them to obey at once."
As he spoke, the general put his head into the room, saying--
"I must away to Keanton, Mr. High Sheriff, and take a party of horse
with me. I have got the information I wanted from the servants, and
will overtake you on the road to Exeter."
"Join us at Silvercross, general," said the high sheriff. "I shall
much need your counsel and assistance. We have four other friends to
inquire after, remember; so you had better come on as soon as you have
made sure of your man. Now, gentlemen, are you ready, and is it your
intention to come peaceably?"
"Oh, certainly," replied Lord Talboys. "_We_ met to preserve the
peace. _You_ apparently come to disturb it."
"It is all very good--very good--very good," said Sir James Mount, who
had now a little recovered himself; "but I do not know what I have
done to deserve this treatment, and I will have reason for it--reason
for it, when I get to Exeter."
"You shall have reason for it here, my dear sir," replied the high
sheriff. "I think this is your handwriting--if not, it is an
exceedingly good imitation, and, in this letter addressed to Sir
William Wyndham, you tell him there is every reason to believe that
King James is actually landed in Scotland. Now, who King James is, you
best know; but that is a question government is determined to enquire
into in conference with yourself, and therefore I am afraid you must
take a journey to London. Now, gentlemen, I will show you the way, and
I trust that you will follow, without obliging me to send up for you."
Thus saying, he descended the stairs; and one after another of the
party above, with dejected looks and crushed expectations, walked down
after him, passing between two files of soldiers in the hall. Few
words were spoken by any of them; but Sir Harry Blake whispered to
Lord Talboys--
"I would bet a guinea to a pinchbeck shoe-buckle, that Newark is at
the bottom of this."