----But oh!
What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop; thou cruel,
Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature!
Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
That knew’st the very bottom of my soul,
That almost mightst have coined me into gold,
Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy use?
--HENRY V.
At no period of his life, not even when that life was in imminent
danger, did the constitutional gaiety of Charles seem more overclouded,
than when waiting for the return of Chiffinch with the Duke of
Buckingham. His mind revolted at the idea, that the person to whom he
had been so particularly indulgent, and whom he had selected as the
friend of his lighter hours and amusements, should prove capable of
having tampered with a plot apparently directed against his liberty
and life. He more than once examined the dwarf anew, but could extract
nothing more than his first narrative contained. The apparition of the
female to him in the cell of Newgate, he described in such fanciful and
romantic colours, that the King could not help thinking the poor man’s
head a little turned; and, as nothing was found in the kettledrum, and
other musical instruments brought for the use of the Duke’s band of
foreigners, he nourished some slight hope that the whole plan might be
either a mere jest, or that the idea of an actual conspiracy was founded
in mistake.
The persons who had been despatched to watch the motions of Mr. Weiver’s
congregation, brought back word that they had quietly dispersed. It was
known, at the same time, that they had met in arms, but this augured
no particular design of aggression, at a time when all true Protestants
conceived themselves in danger of immediate massacre; when the fathers
of the city had repeatedly called out the Train-Bands, and alarmed the
citizens of London, under the idea of an instant insurrection of the
Catholics; and when, to sum the whole up, in the emphatic words of an
alderman of the day, there was a general belief that they would all
waken some unhappy morning with their throats cut. Who was to do these
dire deeds, it was more difficult to suppose; but all admitted the
possibility that they might be achieved, since one Justice of the Peace
was already murdered. There was, therefore, no inference of hostile
intentions against the State, to be decidedly derived from a
congregation of Protestants _par excellence_, military from old
associations, bringing their arms with them to a place of worship, in
the midst of a panic so universal.
Neither did the violent language of the minister, supposing that to be
proved, absolutely infer meditated violence. The favourite parables of
the preachers, and the metaphors and ornaments which they selected, were
at all times of a military cast; and the taking the kingdom of heaven
by storm, a strong and beautiful metaphor, when used generally as in
Scripture, was detailed in their sermons in all the technical language
of the attack and defence of a fortified place. The danger, in short,
whatever might have been its actual degree, had disappeared as suddenly
as a bubble upon the water, when broken by a casual touch, and had left
as little trace behind it. It became, therefore, matter of much doubt,
whether it had ever actually existed.
While various reports were making from without, and while their tenor
was discussed by the King, and such nobles and statesmen as he thought
proper to consult on the occasion, a gradual sadness and anxiety
mingled with, and finally silenced, the mirth of the evening. All became
sensible that something unusual was going forward; and the unwonted
distance which Charles maintained from his guests, while it
added greatly to the dulness that began to predominate in the
presence-chamber, gave intimation that something unusual was labouring
in the King’s mind.
Thus play was neglected--the music was silent, or played without being
heard--gallants ceased to make compliments, and ladies to expect them;
and a sort of apprehensive curiosity pervaded the circle. Each asked the
others why they were grave; and no answer was returned, any more than
could have been rendered by a herd of cattle instinctively disturbed by
the approach of a thunderstorm.
To add to the general apprehension, it began to be whispered, that one
or two of the guests, who were desirous of leaving the palace, had been
informed no one could be permitted to retire until the general hour
of dismissal. And these, gliding back into the hall, communicated in
whispers that the sentinels at the gates were doubled, and that there
was a troop of the Horse Guards drawn up in the court--circumstances so
unusual, as to excite the most anxious curiosity.
Such was the state of the Court, when wheels were heard without, and
the bustle which took place denoted the arrival of some person of
consequence.
“Here comes Chiffinch,” said the King, “with his prey in his clutch.”
It was indeed the Duke of Buckingham; nor did he approach the royal
presence without emotion. On entering the court, the flambeaux which
were borne around the carriage gleamed on the scarlet coats, laced
hats, and drawn broadswords of the Horse Guards--a sight unusual, and
calculated to strike terror into a conscience which was none of the
clearest.
The Duke alighted from the carriage, and only said to the officer, whom
he saw upon duty, “You are late under arms to-night, Captain Carleton.”
“Such are our orders, sir,” answered Carleton, with military brevity;
and then commanded the four dismounted sentinels at the under gate to
make way for the Duke of Buckingham. His Grace had no sooner entered,
than he heard behind him the command, “Move close up, sentinels--closer
yet to the gate.” And he felt as if all chance of rescue were excluded
by the sound.
As he advanced up the grand staircase, there were other symptoms of
alarm and precaution. The Yeomen of the Guard were mustered in unusual
numbers, and carried carabines instead of their halberds; and
the Gentlemen-pensioners, with their partisans, appeared also in
proportional force. In short, all that sort of defence which the royal
household possesses within itself, seemed, for some hasty and urgent
reason, to have been placed under arms, and upon duty.
Buckingham ascended the royal staircase with an eye attentive to these
preparations, and a step steady and slow, as if he counted each step
on which he trode. “Who,” he asked himself, “shall ensure Christian’s
fidelity? Let him but stand fast, and we are secure. Otherwise----”
As he shaped the alternative, he entered the presence-chamber.
The King stood in the midst of the apartment, surrounded by the
personages with whom he had been consulting. The rest of the brilliant
assembly, scattered into groups, looked on at some distance. All were
silent when Buckingham entered, in hopes of receiving some explanation
of the mysteries of the evening. All bent forward, though etiquette
forbade them to advance, to catch, if possible, something of what was
about to pass betwixt the King and his intriguing statesman. At the same
time, those counsellors who stood around Charles, drew back on either
side, so as to permit the Duke to pay his respects to his Majesty in the
usual form. He went through the ceremonial with his accustomed grace,
but was received by Charles with much unwonted gravity.
“We have waited for you some time, my Lord Duke. It is long since
Chiffinch left us, to request your attendance here. I see you are
elaborately dressed. Your toilette was needless on the present
occasion.”
“Needless to the splendour of your Majesty’s Court,” said the Duke, “but
not needless on my part. This chanced to be Black Monday at York Place,
and my club of _Pendables_ were in full glee when your Majesty’s summons
arrived. I could not be in the company of Ogle, Maniduc, Dawson, and so
forth, but what I must needs make some preparation, and some ablution,
ere entering the circle here.”
“I trust the purification will be complete,” said the King, without any
tendency to the smile which always softened features, that, ungilded by
its influence, were dark, harsh, and even severe. “We wished to ask your
Grace concerning the import of a sort of musical mask which you designed
us here, but which miscarried, as we are given to understand.”
“It must have been a great miscarriage indeed,” said the Duke, “since
your Majesty looks so serious on it. I thought to have done your
Majesty pleasure (as I have seen you condescend to be pleased with such
passages), by sending the contents of that bass-viol; but I fear
the jest has been unacceptable--I fear the fireworks may have done
mischief.”
“Not the mischief they were designed for, perhaps,” said the King
gravely; “you see, my lord, we are all alive, and unsinged.”
“Long may your Majesty remain so,” said the Duke; “yet I see there is
something misconstrued on my part--it must be a matter unpardonable,
however little intended, since it hath displeased so indulgent a
master.”
“Too indulgent a master, indeed, Buckingham,” replied the King; “and the
fruit of my indulgence has been to change loyal men into traitors.”
“May it please your Majesty, I cannot understand this,” said the Duke.
“Follow us, my lord,” answered Charles, “and we will endeavour to
explain our meaning.”
Attended by the same lords who stood around him, and followed by the
Duke of Buckingham, on whom all eyes were fixed, Charles retired into
the same cabinet which had been the scene of repeated consultations in
the course of the evening. There, leaning with his arms crossed on the
back of an easy-chair, Charles proceeded to interrogate the suspected
nobleman.
“Let us be plain with each other. Speak out, Buckingham. What, in one
word, was to have been the regale intended for us this evening?”
“A petty mask, my lord. I had destined a little dancing-girl to come
out of that instrument, who, I thought, would have performed to your
Majesty’s liking--a few Chinese fireworks there were, thinking the
entertainment was to have taken place in the marble hall, might, I
hoped, have been discharged with good effect, and without the slightest
alarm, at the first appearance of my little sorceress, and were designed
to have masked, as it were, her entrance upon the stage. I hope there
have been no perukes singed--no ladies frightened--no hopes of noble
descent interrupted by my ill-fancied jest.”
“We have seen no such fireworks, my lord; and your female dancer, of
whom we now hear for the first time, came forth in the form of our old
acquaintance Geoffrey Hudson, whose dancing days are surely ended.”
“Your Majesty surprises me! I beseech you, let Christian be sent
for--Edward Christian--he will be found lodging in a large old house
near Sharper the cutler’s, in the Strand. As I live by bread, sire,
I trusted him with the arrangement of this matter, as indeed the
dancing-girl was his property. If he has done aught to dishonour my
concert, or disparage my character, he shall die under the baton.”
“It is singular,” said the King, “and I have often observed it, that
this fellow Christian bears the blame of all men’s enormities--he
performs the part which, in a great family, is usually assigned to that
mischief-doing personage, Nobody. When Chiffinch blunders, he always
quotes Christian. When Sheffield writes a lampoon, I am sure to hear of
Christian having corrected, or copied, or dispersed it--he is the _ame
damnée_ of every one about my Court--the scapegoat, who is to carry away
all their iniquities; and he will have a cruel load to bear into the
wilderness. But for Buckingham’s sins, in particular, he is the regular
and uniform sponsor; and I am convinced his Grace expects Christian
should suffer every penalty he has incurred, in this world or the next.”
“Not so,” with the deepest reverence replied the Duke. “I have no hope
of being either hanged or damned by proxy; but it is clear some one hath
tampered with and altered my device. If I am accused of aught, let me at
least hear the charge, and see my accuser.”
“That is but fair,” said the King. “Bring our little friend from behind
the chimney-board. [Hudson being accordingly produced, he continued.]
There stands the Duke of Buckingham. Repeat before him the tale you told
us. Let him hear what were those contents of the bass-viol which were
removed that you might enter it. Be not afraid of any one, but speak the
truth boldly.”
“May it please your Majesty,” said Hudson, “fear is a thing unknown to
me.”
“His body has no room to hold such a passion; or there is too little of
it to be worth fearing for,” said Buckingham.--“But let him speak.”
Ere Hudson had completed his tale, Buckingham interrupted him by
exclaiming, “Is it possible that I can be suspected by your Majesty on
the word of this pitiful variety of the baboon tribe?”
“Villain-Lord, I appeal thee to the combat!” said the little man, highly
offended at the appellation thus bestowed on him.
“La you there now!” said the Duke--“The little animal is quite crazed,
and defies a man who need ask no other weapon than a corking-pin to run
him through the lungs, and whose single kick could hoist him from Dover
to Calais without yacht or wherry. And what can you expect from an
idiot, who is _engoué_ of a common rope-dancing girl, that capered on a
pack-thread at Ghent in Flanders, unless they were to club their talents
to set up a booth at Bartholomew Fair?--Is it not plain, that supposing
the little animal is not malicious, as indeed his whole kind bear a
general and most cankered malice against those who have the ordinary
proportions of humanity--Grant, I say, that this were not a malicious
falsehood of his, why, what does it amount to?--That he has mistaken
squibs and Chinese crackers for arms! He says not he himself touched or
handled them; and judging by the sight alone, I question if the infirm
old creature, when any whim or preconception hath possession of his
noddle, can distinguish betwixt a blunderbuss and a black-pudding.”
The horrible clamour which the dwarf made so soon as he heard this
disparagement of his military skill--the haste with which he blundered
out a detail of this warlike experiences--and the absurd grimaces which
he made in order to enforce his story, provoked not only the risibility
of Charles, but even of the statesmen around him, and added absurdity to
the motley complexion of the scene. The King terminated this dispute, by
commanding the dwarf to withdraw.
A more regular discussion of his evidence was then resumed, and Ormond
was the first who pointed out, that it went farther than had been
noticed, since the little man had mentioned a certain extraordinary and
treasonable conversation held by the Duke’s dependents, by whom he had
been conveyed to the palace.
“I am sure not to lack my lord of Ormond’s good word,” said the Duke
scornfully; “but I defy him alike, and all my other enemies, and shall
find it easy to show that this alleged conspiracy, if any grounds for
it at all exist, in a mere sham-plot, got up to turn the odium justly
attached to the Papists upon the Protestants. Here is a half-hanged
creature, who, on the very day he escapes from the gallows, which many
believe was his most deserved destiny, comes to take away the reputation
of a Protestant Peer--and on what?--on the treasonable conversation
of three or four German fiddlers, heard through the sound-holes of a
violoncello, and that, too, when the creature was incased in it, and
mounted on a man’s shoulders! The urchin, too, in repeating their
language, shows he understands German as little as my horse does; and if
he did rightly hear, truly comprehend, and accurately report what they
said, still, is my honour to be touched by the language held by such
persons as these are, with whom I have never communicated, otherwise
than men of my rank do with those of their calling and capacity?--Pardon
me, sire, if I presume to say, that the profound statesmen who
endeavoured to stifle the Popish conspiracy by the pretended Meal-tub
Plot, will take little more credit by their figments about fiddles and
concertos.”
The assistant counsellors looked at each other; and Charles turned on
his heel, and walked through the room with long steps.
At this period the Peverils, father and son, were announced to have
reached the palace, and were ordered into the royal presence.
These gentlemen had received the royal mandate at a moment of great
interest. After being dismissed from their confinement by the elder
Bridgenorth, in the manner and upon the terms which the reader must
have gathered from the conversation of the latter with Christian, they
reached the lodgings of Lady Peveril, who awaited them with joy, mingled
with terror and uncertainty. The news of the acquittal had reached her
by the exertions of the faithful Lance Outram, but her mind had been
since harassed by the long delay of their appearance, and rumours of
disturbances which had taken place in Fleet Street and in the Strand.
When the first rapturous meeting was over, Lady Peveril, with an anxious
look towards her son, as if recommending caution, said she was now about
to present to him the daughter of an old friend, whom he had _never_
(there was an emphasis on the word) seen before. “This young lady,” she
continued, “was the only child of Colonel Mitford, in North Wales, who
had sent her to remain under her guardianship for an interval, finding
himself unequal to attempt the task of her education.”
“Ay, ay,” said Sir Geoffrey, “Dick Mitford must be old now--beyond the
threescore and ten, I think. He was no chicken, though a cock of the
game, when he joined the Marquis of Hertford at Namptwich with two
hundred wild Welshmen.--Before George, Julian, I love that girl as
if she was my own flesh and blood! Lady Peveril would never have got
through this work without her; and Dick Mitford sent me a thousand
pieces, too, in excellent time, when there was scarce a cross to keep
the devil from dancing in our pockets, much more for these law-doings. I
used it without scruple, for there is wood ready to be cut at Martindale
when we get down there, and Dick Mitford knows I would have done the
like for him. Strange that he should have been the only one of my
friends to reflect I might want a few pieces.”
Whilst Sir Geoffrey thus run on, the meeting betwixt Alice and Julian
Peveril was accomplished, without any particular notice on his side,
except to say, “Kiss her, Julian--kiss her. What the devil! is that the
way you learned to accost a lady at the Isle of Man, as if her lips were
a red-hot horseshoe?--And do not you be offended, my pretty one; Julian
is naturally bashful, and has been bred by an old lady, but you will
find him, by-and-by, as gallant as thou hast found me, my princess.--And
now, Dame Peveril, to dinner, to dinner! the old fox must have his
belly-timber, though the hounds have been after him the whole day.”
Lance, whose joyous congratulations were next to be undergone, had the
consideration to cut them short, in order to provide a plain but hearty
meal from the next cook’s shop, at which Julian sat, like one enchanted,
betwixt his mistress and his mother. He easily conceived that the last
was the confidential friend to whom Bridgenorth had finally committed
the charge of his daughter, and his only anxiety now was, to anticipate
the confusion that was likely to arise when her real parentage was
made known to his father. Wisely, however, he suffered not these
anticipations to interfere with the delight of his present situation,
in the course of which many slight but delightful tokens of recognition
were exchanged, without censure, under the eye of Lady Peveril, under
cover of the boisterous mirth of the old Baronet, who spoke for two, ate
for four, and drank wine for half-a-dozen. His progress in the
latter exercise might have proceeded rather too far, had he not been
interrupted by a gentleman bearing the King’s orders, that he should
instantly attend upon the presence at Whitehall, and bring his son along
with him.
Lady Peveril was alarmed, and Alice grew pale with sympathetic anxiety;
but the old Knight, who never saw more than what lay straight before
him, set it down to the King’s hasty anxiety to congratulate him on
his escape; an interest on his Majesty’s part which he considered by no
means extravagant, conscious that it was reciprocal on his own side.
It came upon him, indeed, with the more joyful surprise that he had
received a previous hint, ere he left the court of justice, that it
would be prudent in him to go down to Martindale before presenting
himself at Court--a restriction which he supposed as repugnant to his
Majesty’s feelings as it was to his own.
While he consulted with Lance Outram about cleaning his buff-belt and
sword-hilt, as well as time admitted, Lady Peveril had the means to give
Julian more distinct information, that Alice was under her protection by
her father’s authority, and with his consent to their union, if it could
be accomplished. She added that it was her determination to employ the
mediation of the Countess of Derby, to overcome the obstacles which
might be foreseen on the part of Sir Geoffrey.