When the sword is drawn, and the power of the strongest is to
decide, you talk in vain of equity and moderation; those virtues
always belong to the conquerors. Thus it has happened to the
Cheruscans: they were formerly called just and upright; at present
they are called fools and knaves. Victory has transferred every
virtue to their masters; and oppression takes the name of wisdom.
Murphy's Tacitus.
It was not the practice of Cromwell to bring to a speedy trial those
state-prisoners against whom he could produce no positive proof of the
offence with which they were charged. Though the palaces of the degraded
bishops and exiled nobility were, during this reign of terror in
England, converted into places of confinement, the prisons continued
crowded with victims. Judges and juries were too slow and uncertain in
their proceedings to be permitted to decide on the fate of those whom
the Protector of the liberties of England had pre-ordained to death or
captivity. High courts of justice were occasionally erected, and summary
modes of trial resorted to, which the ancient laws of the realm
reprobated or disavowed. By these the Tyrant freed himself from those
more obnoxious enemies who had taken arms against his authority; but the
objects of his suspicious fear, whose enmity he knew, and whose ability
he dreaded, still remained in close confinement. The crime of some was
having concealed Loyalists; many were shut up for sending remittances to
the King abroad, or for having shown him some mark of respect and
allegiance while he was in England. The presbyterians suffered for
lamenting the fall of the Long-parliament, and inveighing against the
present tyranny; the Fifth-Monarchy-men, for expecting the reign of King
Jesus; the Levellers, for requiring Agrarian laws and the equalization
of property. The conduct of Cromwell had disgusted the whole body of
sectaries as well as the stanch Republicans. "Anabaptists, Independents,
and Quakers conceived an implacable hatred against him; and, whilst they
contrived how to raise a power to contend with him, they likewise
entered into plots for his assassination." These plots, and the
libellous writings by which they excited insurrection, continually
agitated the mind of Cromwell; for as his new enemies were not
restrained by those principles which prevented most of his old ones from
resorting to indirect modes of warfare, cutting off one daring villain
added nothing to his security, but rather stimulated that faction to
vengeance. He had now humbled and disappointed all parties, and could no
longer play one against another. No one was attached to him; even those
who had gone equal lengths in guilt only clung to him as a pledge for
their own security. Mercy and lenity had no effect on those with whom he
now contended. Lilburn, who may be considered as an epitome of the
fanatical opponents of Cromwell, "had wrought himself to a marvellous
inclination and appetite to suffer in the defence, or for the
vindication of any oppressed truth." To men who courted persecution, who
gloried in personal suffering, and to whom, connecting their cause with
that of the Almighty, all measures seemed allowable which their humours
suggested--the axe and the gallows displayed no terrors; and it was as
impossible to oblige as it was to intimidate them. They despised
temporal possessions, and braced their iron-nerves with misapplications
of the texts and examples of Scripture, believing that, in performing
the actions of banditti, they were proving themselves to be chosen
captains of the host of the Lord.
As the labours of the itinerant preachers already described had
converted thousands of the lower orders into ignorant and desperate,
and, it might be added, insane, enthusiasts, a mind less indefatigable
than Cromwell's would have been wholly engrossed in securing his person
and government from their violence and hostile machinations; but his
fear of his new enemies did not make him forget his hatred of his old
ones. The fanatical conspirators and insurgents being more inimical to
the general good sense of the nation, he often submitted them to the
ordinary courts of justice, contenting himself (as in the case of
Lilburn) with making acquittal issue in more rigorous imprisonment, when
a jury had the presumption to decide in favour of a prisoner whom the
Protector had resolved to punish. Desirous of conciliating the good
opinion of well-informed people, he preserved the fountain of justice
uncontaminated. The judges who presided in the several courts were in
general an honour to their country; and many of them (especially the
immortal Hale) accepted the office, in order to be better able to
restrain oppression, "knowing that in every form of government justice
must be administered between man and man, and offenders against the
universal laws of society punished." By such judges, a Gerrard, a Hewet,
a Hyde, and other illustrious Loyalists, would not have been condemned.
Against such persons, therefore, Cromwell was compelled to rearrange his
pantomimic High Court of Justice, that contemptible but bloody engine,
by which he had destroyed the King and the nobles, and to whose
authority, as anomalous to the constitution, his victims generally
refused to submit, and were thus condemned without any public
discussion.
Had Cromwell determined to try Dr. Beaumont for sending pecuniary
assistance to the King (an offence which he had the means of proving),
he would have immediately collected his creatures and erected one of
these executive courts; but if the suspicion of assassinating an
officer, who bore a parliamentary commission, could be supported by
stronger proofs than the accusation of Lady Bellingham, and the
probabilities suggested by Morgan, he need not fear permitting justice
to mount her regular seat, and hold her balance in the public eye. No
charge of cruelty or persecution could then be brought against him; and
the public odium would be transferred to the episcopalians and
Loyalists. He attended the first examination of the Doctor before the
Council of State, on the ostensible accusation of assisting the King,
and saw, in his behaviour, an enlightened opposer of tyranny, and a
conscientious adherent to the old government. Such a man, he resolved,
should either be cut off, or prevented from doing him any injury. The
best policy, therefore, was to defer his trial, and to send down some
active emissaries to Ribblesdale to examine minutely into his past
conversation, and discover whether any ground of accusation existed
against him. At least to ascertain that Sedley had really been cut off,
and that Dr. Beaumont had no evidence to disprove his being concerned in
the transaction.
Dr. Beaumont was therefore remanded into close confinement. His family
had gathered round him, and were supported by the generous contributions
of those Loyalists who had hitherto escaped persecution, but made a
common cause with their suffering brethren, and liberally ministered to
their distresses. Colonel Evellin was concealed in an obscure lodging
near the Marshalsea, where Dr. Beaumont was imprisoned. Constantia and
Isabel, with patient fortitude, ministered to their respective fathers,
while Williams carried on a confidential intercourse with the noble and
worthy friends by whom they were supported. Some of these were in the
confidence of Lord Falconberg, the accepted lover of one of Cromwell's
daughters, and who was thought by many to have sought that alliance with
the view of mediating for the persecuted victims to a cause which
himself and his family had ever decidedly espoused.
Affairs were in this situation when Jobson arrived in London, and
produced Dr. Lloyd's letter, which, confirmed by his own testimony,
fully verified the existence of Eustace, the safety of De Vallance, and
their welfare and comparative happiness. What a weight of anguish was
removed from these amiable victims of tyranny by the intelligence!
Imprisonment, poverty, dependence, personal infirmity, were all
supportable evils. But for a complete exemplification of the extreme
limit of human misery, we must look to the oppressor, not to the
oppressed; to Cromwell, galled by the armour worn under his robes of
state to defend his person from the expected dagger of a murderer, and
not to Dr. Beaumont, languishing for want of the common blessings which
freedom bestows, or to Evellin, an aged cripple in the lonely confined
chamber of poverty. Cromwell had no daughter who revered his virtues,
and cheered his pensive contemplations with the assurance that the
righteous sufferer was under the peculiar protection of Heaven. Most of
_his_ daughters were strongly attached to the royal cause. The wife of
Fleetwood (his eldest) was a furious Republican; Desborough, his
brother-in-law, was a Leveller; and his eldest son was incompetent to
receive that weight of usurped greatness which he wished to bequeath
him. Such was the domestic situation of the man at whose frown Europe
trembled. Ever in dread of assassins and conspirators, vexed by
family-broils, his nearest connexions hostile to his views, without
solace from public care, or sympathy in private distress.
The preservation of his son seemed to bestow on Colonel Evellin a new
existence. He was never weary of listening to the particulars of his
escape. Again and again he required Jobson to repeat the assurance, that
he had actually held in his arms the living Eustace; the determined
martyr to loyalty and truth; the brave, conspicuous, honourable soldier;
his own dear son, not a traitor to his King or his love, but all that he
could wish a true Neville to be, except in his misfortunes. It seemed a
double resurrection to life, and to unclouded fame. And was it possible
he might again see him at his feet craving his blessing? Should his hand
rest upon his head, while, with a prophetic ardour, he predicted a race
of worthies that should spring from him--future heroes, patriots, and
faithful subjects, alike tenacious of their Sovereign's rights and of
the claims of their countrymen. What were privations, infirmities, and
restraints to a mind animated with these glorious hopes? He limped on
his staff round his narrow room, lest his limbs should grow too
contracted to visit every apartment in Bellingham-Castle. He partook of
his frugal meal, and talked of the joyous regales he would provide for
his tenantry. He was no longer the existing root of a tree that had been
hewn down; one fatal shot had not smitten his Eustace, and doomed his
Isabel to remain a vestal mourner over her brother's grave. De Vallance
and Eustace were now cementing that bond of virtuous friendship which
would distinguish them in happier times; and those times would soon
return. The generous feelings of English nobles would not long endure
the national degradation. They had taught the Norman Conqueror to
venerate their ancient rights. They had resisted every attempt of the
princely house of Plantagenet to sink subjects into vassals. The First
Edward, great in council and in arms, found his people alike invincible
in the field, whether they followed his banner under an Asian or a
Northern sky, or opposed his violation of their chartered rights! Could
a nation, which would only pay a constitutional obedience to a Beauclerk
or a Coeur de Lion, which served, not submitted to, the heroes of Cressy
and of Agincourt, long writhe under the scorpion-lash of despotism
wielded by a low Usurper, whose manners and sentiments were inimical to
the general tone of the English character--a man pre-eminent in fraud
and hypocrisy, and ignorant of the lively yearnings of humanity.
"My girl," Evellin would often say to Isabel, "the King must be
re-instated on his throne, or England will fall from her rank among the
nations. The standard of public morals must be reduced, the mode of
thinking be changed, the very aspect of Englishmen undergo a revolution
before the race of this upstart Despot can take root in this island. We
have been accustomed to look up to our governors as great and good; at
least they were surrounded by a blaze of ancestry and dignity of manners
congenial to our feelings of the prescriptive claims of hereditary
rights. We must be all mercenary soldiers, wild fanatics, pensioned
informers, or feudal serfs toiling for daily bread, ere we can patiently
endure this revolting system of jealousy and suspicion--this cold,
selfish scheme of trick and expedient. Astonishment and terror may
awhile paralyze the national spirit; the remembered miseries of civil
war may render the phantom of peace so alluring as to induce many to
call a deleterious intoxication felicity. But unless Cromwell can
obliterate every record of what Englishmen were in past ages--unless he
can make us forget the education, opinions, and hopes of our youth--the
labours, sorrows, and wrongs of our riper years--his meanness and his
crimes;--never--never can the British lion crouch at an Usurper's form,
or the red-cross banner wave graceful over a traitor's head."
Colonel Evellin was roused from these agreeable reveries by a painful
communication from Williams. The means of access which the royalists now
had to Cromwell's councils enabled them to discover that the vigilance
of Morgan had brought together so many charges against Dr. Beaumont,
that there seeming no chance of his escaping condemnation, it was
resolved to bring him to trial. Williams could not distinctly make out
the crimes with which he was charged, except that he assisted the late
and present King with money; that he used the Liturgy and Church
ceremonies with such slight alterations as did not prevent their
continuing to be that "form of words" and "will-worship" which were
forbidden to saints; added to this, he prayed for Charles Stewart; and
further, there were secret counsels and mysterious contrivances in the
family. A private chamber had also been found, which, it was evident,
had been used for the purpose of concealing malignants. The safety of
the state required that these practices should be searched into, and
that Dr. Beaumont should be tried for contumacy to the government.
This was all Williams could discover; but beside this open attack, there
was a mine ready to be sprung for the Doctor's destruction. Lord
Bellingham had now lain several years in confinement. His party was
believed to be subdued, and his own reputation was so tarnished that he
was become quite innoxious. Overtures were now made to him, that he
should be restored to liberty, and to a part of his possessions; but it
was hinted at the same time that it would show his acquiescence with the
existing government if he would take an active part against an atrocious
royalist. The sudden and mysterious disappearance of his son (of whom he
had heard no tidings since the battle of Preston) was mentioned; and it
was soon understood that it was expected he should bring the charge of
assassination against Dr. Beaumont, and thus remove all odium from
Cromwell. Solitude and confinement had wrought no salutary change on
this wretched man's disposition. His prison-hours were occupied by
regrets for the past, distaste at the present, and fears for the future.
His affections clung fondly to the wealth and title he had lost; nor
could his guilty soul disrobe itself "of those lendings" which vitiated
its spiritual essence. If he were again placed in Bellingham-Castle he
would repent. He would then devote a large proportion of his
dearly-purchased estate to charitable purposes; he would seek for Allan
Neville and his daughter; were they alive, he would make them happy, or
at least place them in affluence; he would erect a monument to the
gallant Eustace; he would employ his future life in pious duties; in
fine, if restored to the enjoyment of the unrighteous Mammon, he would
use it in securing an everlasting inheritance. No angel whispered,
"Begin the mighty labour now;" no renovating change took place in his
desires. The hour of contrition and repentance was deferred with
procrastinating insincerity. Can we then wonder that the man who, in his
youth, sacrificed honour and friendship to purchase worldly grandeur,
should, in his age, again impawn his conscience for liberty and ease? or
that, though he had indeed often deplored the supposed necessity of
murdering Eustace Evellin, he should basely yield to become a Tyrant's
instrument to cut off that Eustace's uncle on a charge, which, from what
he knew of the Doctor's conduct, bore improbability and ingratitude in
its aspect. Let those who condemn Lord Bellingham beware how they yield
to the first temptations of guilt. The emulation of an aspiring mind,
unchecked by principle, degenerated into envy, hatred, malice,
injustice, falsehood, and cruelty. Love for a beautiful woman was
polluted by an insatiable craving to rise to the same sphere of life in
which she moved; and as it was her exterior loveliness, not her inward
graces, that inflamed his desires, he scrupled not to become the
instrument of her bad passion; that "love might revel on the couch of
state," he performed actions which stamped ignominy on his name, and
destroyed his peace for ever; and now, in the decline of life, though
satiety had taught him the little value of all temporal enjoyments, his
imagination clung to the dispersing shadows which even experience would
not convince him were only phantoms of happiness. Even while he wept the
offences he had committed, he yielded to the first temptation to repeat
his crimes.
On the morning fixed for his trial, Dr. Beaumont exhibited an
illustration of the scriptural precept, by combining the wisdom of the
serpent with the innocence of the dove. Serene, mild, thoughtful, acute,
and penetrating, he was capable of using every fair occasion to elude
his enemies, and was able also to submit to the will of Heaven, provided
their malice should be permitted to triumph. He prepared Constantia for
the worst, by assuring her that so many had unjustly suffered in these
perturbed times that condemnation was no longer considered as an
evidence of guilt. All the disgrace of a public death was removed by the
justice of the cause to which he was ready to fall a martyr; and the
mere circumstance of his dying as a malefactor ought not to distress
her, since, in the article of pain, he should endure much less; and the
awakening trial of imprisonment had afforded him leisure to re-consider
his ways, and make his peace with God. This singular blessing had
supplied the best uses of sickness, without its frequent attendant,
bodily incapacity. He reminded her of his declining years. "My enemies,"
said he, "can only rob me of the dregs of life. Death hath sent many of
his forerunners by the hand of time to inform me that my days are
drawing to a close. It was my wish to be useful as long as I lived. The
new government have done me the honour to think me dangerous. When they
immured me in a prison, I considered the loss of liberty as a quietus
from my heavenly King, dismissing me from active employments; and I have
since endeavoured to improve myself in the practice of those passive
virtues which are never enough prized by the world, and which are often
painful rather than pleasant. I have endeavoured after the perfection of
patience, humility, and submission; but, my Constantia, I have only
endeavoured, and have discovered so many unsubdued weaknesses, such a
lingering fondness for what I must renounce, that I fear nothing but the
cold chill of death will benumb those ardent affections which have often
led me to lament (but, I trust, not to repine) that I was born in these
unhappy times. To the last I must bemoan the degradation, and crimes of
my country, that beloved England, whom, in the humble sphere of a
village-rector, I laboured to serve, by making all whom my counsels and
example could influence, faithful servants of their God and their King.
I feel too the destitution of my family (here he faultered and turned
aside his face)--principally thee, poor mourner, tenderly fostered in
thine infancy, and, since then, the child of sorrow. Encourage me by thy
firmness, now I am on the eve of the most awful occurence of my life.
Imitate the cheerful magnanimity of Isabel. Let me not shudder at the
thought of leaving thee a weak, heart-broken burden on those who can
only pity thy distress; but let me have the comfort of hoping that thou
wilt behave like a resigned Christian, who, art not so depressed by a
sense of thy own grief, as to be incapable of ministering to the woes of
others. Allow me to think of thee as one whose views are not bounded by
the grave, and then I shall have no overwhelming terrors to distract my
attention, or unfit me for improving every fair opportunity for my
deliverance. But, should the worst happen, remember, Constantia, I shall
continue to exist. Putting on the garment of immortality does not
destroy identity. We shall still continue members of that large family
of whom God is the head, the angels being his more exalted servants, and
the infernal spirits potent rebels, who in vain labour to defeat his
purposes. No event can remove us from the superintendance of Providence;
no distance of time or country, no difference of station or fortune, can
hinder the glorified spirits of the faithful from meeting in the same
paradise, and hearing the same joyful sentence of eternal beatitude.
Whether the disembodied souls left their bodies in the north or in the
south, they will all rejoice in the society of each other. The spirits
of the patriarchs of old, as well as of those who die to-day in the
Lord, will meet in one large community. Console thyself, therefore, with
the thought of a future, joyful, and eternal re-union; and let that
consolation be also an active precept, teaching thee so to order thy
daily conversation as to complete thy fitness for that re-union."
He then entreated her to remember the inestimable consolation she
possessed, in knowing that Eustace lived and was worthy of her
affections, faithful to his vows, to his King, and his God. He advised
her, if possible, to remove with her aunt, Isabel, and Colonel Evellin,
and to place themselves under his protection. If his situation
permitted, he advised her to marry him as the best way of being safe and
respectable, to endeavour to procure an honest livelihood by following
some humble occupation, and to forget the station to which their birth
entitled them to aspire. He was almost hopeless of a speedy change of
times. He feared the spirit of the nation was so broken that it would
submit to the establishment of the usurping family. Policy would teach
Cromwell to soften the terrors of his administration as soon as he could
found his government on the safer principles of expedience and
prescription. He had already adopted many popular measures; and, in
making the power of England formidable abroad, he had gratified the
public-feeling. Though the persecution of individuals, and actions of
glaring oppression and injustice, soon excited discord in peaceable
times, and under the government of a legitimate King, they were so
congenial to the nature of tyranny, that people were more apt to rejoice
in their own escape than to animadvert on the sufferings of their
neighbours. Nor would an accumulation of such deeds rouse to arms a
nation, that had recently bled so copiously from the multiplied wounds
of civil war. Dreadful calamities had stupified the finer feelings,
while self-interest and a mean anxiety for personal safety absorbed
their sensibility for the distressed. Above all, he regretted to say
that an unfavourable impression of the young monarch's personal
qualities had gone abroad; and though the disadvantageous reports might
be aggravated by ill-will, it would be inferred that the person on whom
they fastened was by no means blameless. For all these reasons, Dr.
Beaumont feared that the present ostensible form of a republican
government would imperceptibly slide into the restoration of what the
laws, institutions, habits, and character of England required, a limited
monarchy in the person of one of Cromwell's family, should such a one
arise, who, without being stained by the atrocious guilt of his
progenitor, should display qualities that would eclipse the legitimate
prince. Much, he said, depended on the personal character of a King of
England, who was not, like an Eastern sovereign, shown from a distant
eminence to be worshipped with prostrations, or, like a Grand Monarque,
to be flattered and implicitly obeyed. He ruled over a nation of
freemen; he lived in the observation of his subjects, not as a despot
coercing slaves and parasites, but as the administrator of public
justice, and the conservator of the national rights. He could not put up
a more salutary prayer for his country, than that each future Prince
(especially in times of great political turbulence) would remember that
he is set like a city upon a hill, and that his whole conduct is
canvassed by a free, inquisitive, and, generally speaking, an
intelligent and high-minded nation, attached to hereditary rule, but
indignant at the contamination of the blood-royal. It was impossible for
persons eminent for birth to sin in secret; and one bad action of
theirs, divulged to the public, did more injury than the machinations of
the most subtile traitor. Woe would it be to England, if her liberties
were thus made to depend on the mercy and prudence of those who grasped
her sceptre in despite of law, while its rightful owner discovered such
base propensities as made it safer even in an Usurper's hands than in
his, who less prized the inheritance of three kingdoms than the praise
of debauchees and the indulgence of depraved appetites.
Thus fortifying his daughter's mind with the best principles, and then
gradually withdrawing it from the agonizing present to circumstances
connected with her future fortunes, Dr. Beaumont consoled and instructed
Constantia. "I am firm and patient, my dearest father," said she. "Your
voice, like that of the angel to Hagar, has pointed out springs of
comfort in a frightful desert. One request I must make. Let me stand by
your side at your trial. Perhaps my appearance may influence your
judges. Men who seem to have renounced every feeling of humanity have
been induced to pity orphan wretchedness. Some circumstances may escape
your observation that my quick-sighted fears will seize on; at least I
may serve as your notary. These times of woe have often witnessed female
heroism claiming its affinity to the proscribed victims of injustice,
and glorying in partaking their dangers. Thus let me triumph, and, to
the last, exult in having such a father." Dr. Beaumont gazed on her with
affection, and acceded to her desires. Like his royal Master, he had at
first resolved to object to the legality of these high courts of
justice; but further consideration made him doubt if the plea was
admissible by a Christian, who was required to submit to the powers that
are; and its inexpediency was apparent, by the immediate condemnation of
all who urged it, since, whatever degree of proof their offences
admitted, they were infallibly condemned for contumacy. Being asked,
therefore, if he acknowledged the authority of the court, he lifted up
the cap which covered his thin silvered locks, and declared that he
submitted to be tried by the laws of God and his country, though, as he
had not been furnished with a copy of the charges brought against him,
he came with no other means of defence than a general consciousness of
inoffensive behaviour.
As Dr. Beaumont spoke he withdrew his arm from the feeble support of his
trembling daughter. A sun-beam fell upon his pale countenance, and
irradiated its expression of piety and resignation, while his clasped
hands, and eyes elevated to heaven, bespoke him engrossed by the fervour
of mental devotion. Constantia, silent, trembling, and almost fearing to
breathe, contrasted, by her apprehensiveness, beauty, and elegance, the
awful solemnity of her father's aspect. He was invested with the
insignia of his academical honours, and attired in his sacerdotal habit,
which, in its decay, seemed emblematical of the ruined Church for whom
he was a confessor. Meek but dignified, patient but courageous, he
looked like one of the pillars of episcopacy, who, though the beauty of
holiness was defaced, and the visible cherubim removed from the
sanctuary, continued to support the tottering edifice, deeming the ruins
of Zion a better station than the gorgeous temple of Baal. Nor did the
celebrated classical example of Antigone more forcibly illustrate the
persevering fortitude of passive heroism and enduring love in woman's
gentle bosom, than did the interesting, lovely Constantia. Like the
renowned daughter of Sir Thomas More, "she seemed to have forgotten
herself, being ravished with the entire love of her dear father," and
fearful of danger only as it pointed at him. She turned her eyes upon
the court with a boldness unusual to their general expression, to see if
in any of their faces she could trace the lineaments of justice or
compassion; but they were soon arrested by recognising, in the
president, the well-remembered face of Major Monthault. The brims of his
hat were of more than ordinary dimensions; his hair was notched into the
exact shape prescribed by the highest standard of puritanical orthodoxy;
his band was crimped, and his robes folded with prim decorum; while his
hands demurely rested on the cushion before him, holding a small edition
of the sacred volume, on which he seemed to be meditating in the
intervals between the exercise of his professional duties. But neither
the starched sobriety of his aspect, nor his newly assumed name of
Mephibosheth could obliterate her recollection of the daring libertine
who had seduced her Eustace, and attempted her honour. She pointed him
out to her father, inquiring if he might not be challenged as a personal
enemy; but Dr. Beaumont wisely thought it more prudent to avoid a
recognition, which would only confirm his enmity by exposing his former
conduct; and, reminding Constantia that as no exceptions of theirs would
be attended to, they must know Monthault only in his present character,
he entreated, as her alarm was so visible, that she would retire, and
leave him to the care of Williams.
Dissembling his knowledge of the prisoner, the President showed, by his
address to the Court, that he had adopted the language as well as the
habit of a fanatic. He observed that the malignants could hardly be
bound by any specific terms, being full of evasions and subtleties of
expression, by which they ensnared the simplicity of the faithful. He
then called on Eusebius Beaumont to say, unequivocally, whether he did
so truly and _bona fide_ submit to the authority of this Court, as to
acknowledge it was legally assembled by the supreme power in the
Commonwealth, namely, His Highness Oliver Cromwell, Protector of the
liberties, and General of the armies of England, Scotland, and Ireland.
Dr. Beaumont answered, that he did acknowledge the supreme power was now
lodged in the Protector; and that, according to the ordinances made by
him, the present High Court of Justice possessed a right to try him. He
was then asked if he meant to deny his sending assistance to Charles
Stewart, and praying for a restoration of the ancient system; to which
he answered, he admitted the truth of these accusations; and being in
his heart convinced that the former government of church and state was
not only most consonant to the constitution, but also to the prosperity
of the kingdom, he must ever wish and pray that it might be restored.
But yet, abhorring all conspiracies and plots, the only acts of
contumacy of which he had been guilty to the existing powers, were the
supplications he offered at the Throne of Grace, and the scanty
contributions, which the purse of penury could ill spare, given to the
necessities of those who espoused the same cause, and whose wants
exceeded his own.
The indictment was then read, in which the charges already noticed were
dressed out in vituperative language; but the crimes principally
insisted on were, that he had secreted several desperate and proscribed
delinquents in a ruinous mansion which he inhabited for the purpose; and
that by their assistance he had clandestinely conveyed away, destroyed,
and murdered, divers good and faithful citizens. Among these was a godly
officer of the commonwealth, Arthur De Vallance, commonly called Lord
Sedley, son and heir to the Earl of Bellingham, whom he was known to
have kept in custody, and who had never been heard of since. To give a
tragical effect to this accusation, the Earl and his Countess, attired
in deep mourning, presented themselves in a conspicuous gallery, and, as
if overpowered by the sudden emotions of parental anguish, wrung their
hands and with loud lamentations besought the court to grant them
justice.
Dr. Beaumont's astonishment for some moments precluded the possibility
of reply, but as his native integrity never deserted him, he soon
recovered sufficient presence of mind to determine rather to fall a
victim to the malice of his foes, than to make any discovery which
should endanger the life of Arthur De Vallance, who having borne arms
against Cromwell was become amenable to the penal ordinances, and would
be marked by the Usurper's personal hatred as a confidential friend
changed into a renegado. He soon answered in a firm tone, that, being
unable to divine that such a charge could be brought against him, he
must crave a few days grace to form his reply, and produce evidence
which should disprove it. He would, however, observe, that at the time
of the supposed murder, and his concealment of desperadoes, he was a
suspected persecuted man in distressed circumstances, and all his
actions were watched with insidious vigilance. To impute to him a power
of restraining a man of Lord Sedley's rank was a futile charge,
disproved by its impossibility. There was a person in court (looking at
Morgan) who knew the hospitality and kindness he had shown to that
nobleman; but he was certain the being did not exist, who could fasten
on him the slightest suspicion of his having subsequently practised
against his life.
The counsel for the prosecution answered, that his long confinement had
given him sufficient opportunity of recollecting his misdeeds, and
therefore no accusation could take him by surprise. There could be no
occasion to adjourn the court, or longer suspend justice, which thirsted
to seize the sanguinary old hypocrite. The feelings of the bereaved
parent should be regarded (here a loud sobbing was heard from Lady
Bellingham), and as the culprit had declared that there was a person in
court who could prove his innocence, they would yield him the advantage
of inverting the general order of the trial, and permit him to call and
examine his evidence, before they discovered the dark machination, by
which an illustrious pair lost the son of their hopes, the only heir to
their magnificent fortune.
Dr. Beaumont's strong confidence in his own innocence prevented him from
discovering that the proposal was a snare, intended to give indubitable
authority to the evidence of Morgan, who now pressed forward, stretched
out his hand with an air of friendship to the prisoner, and seemed to
rejoice in the opportunity of befriending him. He took the oath, and
answered the questions put to him, by giving a minute and (as far as his
coarse mind would permit) a pathetic description of the care and
attention which the Beaumont family showed to the young nobleman, and of
his voluntary continuance with them after his wounds were healed.
When Morgan's examination was over, the counsel for the prosecution
addressed the court. "My Lord President Monthault, and you other My
Lords Judges of this honourable tribunal; we all know that the butcher
fatteneth the lamb before he leadeth it to the slaughter-house, and
therefore the care and hospitality pretended to have been shown to the
noble person, whose loss we deplore, establishes nothing positively in
the prisoner's favour. I shall prove to you, that Lord Sedley liberally
rewarded him for his entertainment, and that notwithstanding all the
peaceable professions he has this day made, he took great pains to
change that Lord's principles, to make him false to the Commonwealth,
and also to engage him in an alliance with his family; failing of which,
and also suspecting that he gave information to His Highness of the
plots then carrying on for restoring tyranny and superstition; he the
prisoner was consenting unto, if not aiding and abetting, the murdering
and secreting the aforesaid godly Lord. The time chosen for this
business was immediately after his receiving a large remittance. To
these facts, together with that of the prisoner's concealing a band of
desperate malignants, armed with instruments of destruction, I shall,
with leave of the court, proceed to call my evidence."
The payment of several sums of money to Lord Sedley, during his
residence at Ribblesdale, and the cessation of all demand for
remittances from the period of his quitting it, were proved by his
tenants; one of whom particularly specified his having sent him a very
considerable sum, raised by mortgage of his principal farm, a few days
previous to that fixed on for his disappearance. Morgan was now
re-examined, who acted the part of a reluctant witness, with too marked
partiality for Dr. Beaumont to deceive any who had not been accustomed
to the grossest deceptions of fulsome hypocrisy. Much as he said of his
hopes that his good old friend and neighbour would meet with favour, he
took care to confirm every circumstance to his prejudice. He dwelt on
the steadiness of Lord Sedley's principles; the regular communication he
had with him, respecting the views of the royalists; the beauty and
allurements of Constantia Beaumont, and the evident consternation of the
family, together with her extreme grief at the time of Sedley's
disappearing. He now hesitated and begged he might be dismissed; but a
few threats of imprisonment restored his volubility, and he anticipated
the questions of the counsel by stating, that at the command of His
Highness he had minutely searched the late residence of the Beaumonts,
and at length found a sliding pannel concealing an arched passage,
through an extraordinarily thick wall, which, being excavated in one
part, formed a small secret chamber or closet, concealed among the
buttresses, so as not to be visible on the out-side, and lighted by a
small window in the roof; he found, he said, certain proof of its having
been recently inhabited, and on removing the floor he discovered, with
several arms and implements, the dress of a parliamentary officer; the
same which he had seen Lord Sedley wear. Nor was this the only
corroborative proof of his having been assassinated in that dark recess,
for, on digging lower, they found several bones, which he feared were
part of the remains of that unfortunate gentleman.
The incongruity of finding the dress sufficiently perfect to discover
its identity, while the body of Sedley was so dismembered by time, that
only a few disjointed bones could be discovered, might have convinced
the court, that they could not, without incurring great odium, find Dr.
Beaumont guilty of murder. But, indeed, they had not time to reflect on
the inadmissibility of such vague circumstances in a criminal charge.
Lady Bellingham renewed her screams, to give effect, it was presumed, to
the workings of compassion for a fond mother, wounded to agony by such a
horrid narration. But her screams continued too long, and were too
piercing, to proceed from feigned distress, and the intermingled cries
of "He is coming again! Save me!" directed the eyes of all to a figure,
who was now perceived slowly making his way through the crowd below the
bar. It was the aged Evellin advancing with feeble steps; his majestic
form clad in a loose, black, serge gown, and his iron-grey hair and
beard waving neglected over his breast and shoulders; his arched brows
were still more elevated by disdain, while, glancing his eyes from his
screaming sister and her trembling husband, he fixed their
unextinguished lustre on the President. "I am an evidence for Eusebius
Beaumont," said he; "tender me the oath. My name is Allan Neville, and I
require to be confronted with Walter De Vallance, calling himself Earl
of Bellingham. Let him not escape," continued he, lifting his staff as
it were an ensign of authority. "I accuse him of perfidy, calumny,
fraud, usurpation, and murder."
Bellingham had more self-command than his guilty consort. His long
acquaintance with the terrors of guilt made him ever on his guard. He
knew of the preservation of Allan Neville during the civil wars, but he
hoped the death of his son might have terminated his days, or
irrecoverably clouded his reason; yet he was ever in apprehension of
having his title to greatness disproved by a living claimant, though he
knew all written documents to confirm his treachery had been destroyed.
He had resolved, if ever this man of many woes should burst upon him, to
abide by the criminal's last resource, denial of his identity, and
solemn protestations of his own innocence: and though the abode of
Neville had been so carefully concealed, that no trace of his residence
in London had been discovered, even by the vigilance of Oliverian spies,
the terrors to which the wretched Bellingham was a constant prey gave
him a degree of adroitness in a moment of surprise. Though a coward,
when only in the presence of God and his own conscience, the adhesive
habits of a practised courtier, gave him effrontery and address when
endeavouring to propitiate mankind in his favour.
"My Lord President," said he, "I must request that this unhappy maniac
may be taken into custody. The sight is too dreadful to the weakened
spirits of Lady Bellingham. Being a distant kinsman, we long supported
him by our bounty; but his disordered imagination has persuaded him that
he is the brother of my countess--that unfortunate and guilty man has
been long since numbered with the dead."
Neville answered with stern composure, "Stand forth, David Williams;
identify thy true Lord, the son of thy old master, to whom thou hast
adhered in all his calamities." Williams instantly complied with the
requisition, and Neville, then turning his indignant eyes on the
horror-struct Bellingham, exclaimed--"I trusted thee with my life, my
fortune, and my honour--I supplicated thy aid--I depended on thy
integrity, on our alliance in blood, on a friendship formed in our
boy-hood, on a thousand instances of kindness which I have shown
thee.--Thou stolest from me a pearl, rich as an empire, threwest at me
the worthless shell, and then badest thy plundered brother be grateful
for thy mercy. Mine, Walter, is not the voice of a raving mendicant, it
sounds not in thine ears as the ingratitude of an eleemosynary
pensioner, but as the groan of a perturbed spirit, risen from the grave
to demand vengeance."
"Hear me," continued he, as Bellingham hid his face with his cloak. "Am
not I the friend of thy youth, the brother of thy wife, the owner of thy
lands, castles, of all that thou hast, except that wretched body.--Where
is my son? My Eustace; condemned by thee in cold blood at Pembroke, for
being faithful to the King who ennobled thee, and was then betrayed by
thy treasons! Mark, traitor; at the time that thou unpitying sawest the
heir of the greatness thou hast long usurped walk to execution, this
innocent man, whom thou art now persecuting, preserved the life of thy
only child. And dost thou reproach me with the calamities thou hast
brought upon me? Remember what I was, before thy avarice and ambition
cancelled the ties of blood and gratitude, crushed me to the earth, and
plumed thy borrowed pomp with the wings of my lineal greatness. I am now
a lame, old, destitute Loyalist; yet, for ten thousand worlds, I would
not cease to be the thing I am, if the alternative must be to become
what thou art; a meteor, born in the concussion of the elements; a
timorous slave of power, scared into the commission of any action which
may prolong a life, miserable in its continuance, tremendous in its
close."
He now turned to the judges, who were gazing on him in silent
consternation. "Are you," said he, "administrators of the new code of
criminal justice, or sworn extirpators of inconvenient rectitude. You
see in me the bloody malignant, whom Beaumont cherished for years in the
secret chamber. Have I physical strength to assassinate a vigorous
youth? This arm was rendered useless at the battle of Marston-Moor;
these knees were enfeebled by infirmity, resulting from the hardships I
endured at the siege of Pontefract-Castle. Thus maimed and disabled, I
was removed from a cave where I was hid by my kind comrades on a wain,
concealed under rubbish and fed by my daughter, and by that firm friend,
first in a sepulchre, and then among the ruins that sheltered his
oppressed family. To justify his innocence, I commit my long
painfully-preserved life to your clemency. Condemn me for what I have
done for the King, to whom my heart is still faithful; bow my hoary
locks to the scaffold; cut off the useless trunk which now only serves
to bear the unblemished insignia of the true Earls of Bellingham. I
suffer worse than death by looking on the traitor you cherish in your
bosom. But before you condemn me, mark my words--Young De Vallance
lives--he is beyond your power; he is a firm royalist, and ready, like
myself, to die for his King. Hear me yet again. If you determine to
bring on your cause the odium of deeming an aged cripple dangerous, let
my execution be private; for no pomp of death can quail my courage. On
the scaffold I shall proclaim my attachment to the Sovereign, who
bestowed my birth-right on that viper--the betrayer of us both. But
spare Eusebius Beaumont, the minister of good to friend and foe. Keep
him alive to be your beadsman, till you cease to provoke heaven by
injustice and rebellion."
The cry of "Let us seek the Lord," was immediately vociferated by the
members of the mock tribunal. The President ordered Neville to be taken
into custody. "There needs no rush of marshals-men," said he, "to effect
your purpose; a child may guard me to my dungeon, and a twine confine me
in it. But since I have proved the innocence of Beaumont, give him the
liberty I willingly resign."
In these times of pretended freedom, a court of justice assembled to try
state-criminals was nothing better than a clumsy engine of destruction,
moved at the pleasure of the Protector. Condemnation and acquittal
depended not on the facts which were disclosed at the trial, but on the
pre-disposition of Cromwell, to whom (as was the usual interpretation of
the phrase of seeking the Lord) the President immediately reported the
appearance of Neville, his singular accusation of Lord Bellingham, his
assertion of the existence of young De Vallance, and also of his change
of principles. He suggested the impossibility of convicting Dr. Beaumont
of murder; and though his concealing a royalist was now proved, the age,
debility, and affinity of Neville, would make a strict execution of the
penal ordinances, cruelty instead of justice; and throw an odium on His
Highness's administration. Dr. Beaumont appeared to be an inoffensive,
quiet character; as to Neville, though a furious, desperate delinquent,
his infirmities made him insignificant, and death would probably soon
relieve the state from his machinations.
At this time Cromwell courted popularity; he wished to engage honourable
and eminent persons to support his government, and he thought an
indisputable reputation for liberality and impartiality would expedite
his ultimate projects. He had engaged some respectable characters in his
service; and the description his emissaries gave him of Neville and
Beaumont, showed him the impolicy of publickly sacrificing such victims
for state-offences. He affected to think it was possible he might attach
them to his interests, and declared he never could fear a disabled
soldier and sequestered parson, but that he was even ready to vindicate
the rights of a Loyalist, who had been injured by the partiality of the
late tyrant, and thus prove his own impartial justice, while he
transferred deserved odium on the memory of him who was called the Royal
martyr. Monthault pleaded warmly for the Beaumonts, but not with
disinterested earnestness. The appearance of Constantia in court revived
the recollection of his former designs on her person, and as the
acknowledged death of Eustace had removed what he supposed the chief
barrier to his wishes, he deemed his suit might not be unsuccessfully
urged, especially if he assumed the character of a mediator between her
father and the government. He willingly obeyed Cromwell's order to
adjourn the court to an indefinite time, till it could be ascertained if
the prisoners would purchase prosperity by a change of principle, and he
resolved to employ the interim in prosecuting his own designs.