on business, or on pleasure. Julian only viewed them with the stern
hope, that whoever had endeavoured to bribe him from his fidelity by
the hope of freedom, might see, from the colour of the badge which he
had assumed, how determined he was to resist the temptation presented
to him.
It was about high-water, and a stout wherry came up the river, with
sail and oar, so directly upon that in which Julian was embarked, that
it seemed as if likely to run her aboard. "Get your carabines ready,"
cried the principal warder to his assistants. "What the devil can
these scoundrels mean?"
But the crew in the other boat seemed to have perceived their error,
for they suddenly altered their course, and struck off into the middle
stream, while a torrent of mutual abuse was exchanged betwixt them and
the boat whose course they had threatened to impede.
"The Unknown has kept his faith," said Julian to himself; "I too have
kept mine."
It even seemed to him, as the boats neared each other, that he heard,
from the other wherry, something like a stifled scream or groan; and
when the momentary bustle was over, he asked the warder who sat next
him, what boat that was.
"Men-of-war's-men, on a frolic, I suppose," answered the warder. "I
know no one else would be so impudent as run foul of the King's boat;
for I am sure the fellow put the helm up on purpose. But mayhap you,
sir, know more of the matter than I do."
This insinuation effectually prevented Julian from putting farther
questions, and he remained silent until the boat came under the dusky
bastions of the Tower. The tide carried them up under a dark and
lowering arch, closed at the upper end by the well-known Traitor's
gate,[*] formed like a wicket of huge intersecting bars of wood,
through which might be seen a dim and imperfect view of soldiers and
warders upon duty, and of the steep ascending causeway which leads up
from the river into the interior of the fortress. By this gate, - and
it is the well-known circumstance which assigned its name, - those
accused of state crimes were usually committed to the Tower. The
Thames afforded a secret and silent mode of conveyance for
transporting thither such whose fallen fortunes might move the
commiseration, or whose popular qualities might excite the sympathy,
of the public; and even where no cause for especial secrecy existed,
the peace of the city was undisturbed by the tumult attending the
passage of the prisoner and his guards through the most frequented
streets.
[*] See note, "Fortunes of Nigel."
Yet this custom, however recommended by state policy, must have often
struck chill upon the heart of the criminal, who thus, stolen, as it
were, out of society, reached the place of his confinement, without
encountering even one glance of compassion on the road; and as, from
under the dusky arch, he landed on those flinty steps, worn by many a
footstep anxious as his own, against which the tide lapped fitfully
with small successive waves, and hence looked forward to the steep
ascent into a Gothic state prison, and backward to such part of the
river as the low-brow'd vault suffered to become visible, he must
often have felt that he was leaving daylight, hope, and life itself,
behind him.
While the warder's challenge was made and answered, Peveril
endeavoured to obtain information from his conductors where he was
likely to be confined; but the answer was brief and general - "Where
the Lieutenant should direct."
"Could he not be permitted to share the imprisonment of his father,
Sir Geoffrey Peveril?" He forgot not, on this occasion, to add the
surname of his house.
The warder, an old man of respectable appearance, stared, as if at the
extravagance of the demand, and said bluntly, "It is impossible."
"At least," said Peveril, "show me where my father is confined, that I
may look upon the walls which separate us."
"Young gentleman," said the senior warder, shaking his grey head, "I
am sorry for you; but asking questions will do you no service. In this
place we know nothing of fathers and sons."
Yet chance seemed, in a few minutes afterwards, to offer Peveril that
satisfaction which the rigour of his keepers was disposed to deny to
him. As he was conveyed up the steep passage which leads under what is
called the Wakefield Tower, a female voice, in a tone wherein grief
and joy were indescribably mixed, exclaimed, "My son! - My dear son!"
Even those who guarded Julian seemed softened by a tone of such acute
feeling. They slackened their pace. They almost paused to permit him
to look up towards the casement from which the sounds of maternal
agony proceeded; but the aperture was so narrow, and so closely
grated, that nothing was visible save a white female hand, which
grasped one of those rusty barricadoes, as if for supporting the
person within, while another streamed a white handkerchief, and then
let it fall. The casement was instantly deserted.
"Give it me," said Julian to the officer who lifted the handkerchief;
"it is perhaps a mother's last gift."
The old warder lifted the napkin, and looked at it with the jealous
minuteness of one who is accustomed to detect secret correspondence in
the most trifling acts of intercourse.
"There may be writing on it with invisible ink," said one of his
comrades.
"It is wetted, but I think it is only with tears," answered the
senior. "I cannot keep it from the poor young gentleman."
"Ah, Master Coleby," said his comrade, in a gentle tone of reproach,
"you would have been wearing a better coat than a yeoman's to-day, had
it not been for your tender heart."
"It signifies little," said old Coleby, "while my heart is true to my
King, what I feel in discharging my duty, or what coat keeps my old
bosom from the cold weather."
Peveril, meanwhile, folded in his breast the token of his mother's
affection which chance had favoured him with; and when placed in the
small and solitary chamber which he was told to consider as his own
during his residence in the Tower, he was soothed even to weeping by
this trifling circumstance, which he could not help considering as an
omen, that his unfortunate house was not entirely deserted by
Providence.
But the thoughts and occurrences of a prison are too uniform for a
narrative, and we must now convey our readers into a more bustling
scene.
CHAPTER XXXVII
Henceforth 'tis done - Fortune and I are friends;
And I must live, for Buckingham commends.
- POPE.
The spacious mansion of the Duke of Buckingham, with the demesne
belonging to it, originally bore the name of York House and occupied a
large portion of the ground adjacent to the Savoy.
This had been laid out by the munificence of his father, the favourite
of Charles the First, in a most splendid manner, so as almost to rival
Whitehall itself. But during the increasing rage for building new
streets, and the creating of almost an additional town, in order to
connect London and Westminster, this ground had become of very great
value; and the second Duke of Buckingham, who was at once fond of
scheming, and needy of money, had agreed to a plan laid before him by
some adventurous architect, for converting the extensive grounds
around his palace into those streets, lanes, and courts, which still
perpetuate his name and titles; though those who live in Buckingham
Street, Duke Street, Villiers Street, or in Of-alley (for even that
connecting particle is locally commemorated), probably think seldom of
the memory of the witty, eccentric, and licentious George Villiers,
Duke of Buckingham, whose titles are preserved in the names of their
residence and its neighbourhood.
This building-plan the Duke had entered upon with all the eagerness
which he usually attached to novelty. His gardens were destroyed - his
pavilions levelled - his splendid stables demolished - the whole pomp of
his suburban demesne laid waste, cumbered with ruins, and intersected
with the foundations of new buildings and cellars, and the process of
levelling different lines for the intended streets. But the
undertaking, although it proved afterwards both lucrative and
successful, met with a check at the outset, partly from want of the
necessary funds, partly from the impatient and mercurial temper of the
Duke, which soon carried him off in pursuit of some more new object.
So that, though much was demolished, very little, in comparison, was
reared up in the stead, and nothing was completed. The principal part
of the ducal mansion still remained uninjured; but the demesne in
which it stood bore a strange analogy to the irregular mind of its
noble owner. Here stood a beautiful group of exotic trees and shrubs,
the remnant of the garden, amid yawning common-sewers, and heaps of
rubbish. In one place an old tower threatened to fall upon the
spectator; and in another he ran the risk of being swallowed up by a
modern vault. Grandeur of conception could be discovered in the
undertaking, but was almost everywhere marred by poverty or negligence
of execution. In short, the whole place was the true emblem of an
understanding and talents run to waste, and become more dangerous than
advantageous to society, by the want of steady principle, and the
improvidence of the possessor.
There were men who took a different view of the Duke's purpose in
permitting his mansion to be thus surrounded, and his demesne occupied
by modern buildings which were incomplete, and ancient which were but
half demolished. They alleged, that, engaged as he was in so many
mysteries of love and of politics, and having the character of the
most daring and dangerous intriguer of his time, his Grace found it
convenient to surround himself with this ruinous arena, into which
officers of justice could not penetrate without some difficulty and
hazard; and which might afford, upon occasion, a safe and secret
shelter for such tools as were fit for desperate enterprises, and a
private and unobserved mode of access to those whom he might have any
special reason for receiving in secret.
Leaving Peveril in the Tower, we must once more convey our readers to
the Levee of the Duke, who, on the morning of Julian's transference to
that fortress, thus addressed his minister-in-chief, and principal
attendant: "I have been so pleased with your conduct in this matter,
Jerningham, that if Old Nick were to arise in our presence, and offer
me his best imp as a familiar in thy room, I would hold it but a poor
compliment."
"A legion of imps," said Jerningham, bowing, "could not have been more
busy than I in your Grace's service; but if your Grace will permit me
to say so, your whole plan was well-nigh marred by your not returning
home till last night, or rather this morning."
"And why, I pray you, sage Master Jerningham," said his Grace, "should
I have returned home an instant sooner than my pleasure and
convenience served?"
"Nay, my Lord Duke," replied the attendant, "I know not; only, when
you sent us word by Empson, in Chiffinch's apartment, to command us to
make sure of the girl at any rate, and at all risks, you said you
would be here so soon as you could get freed of the King."
"Freed of the King, you rascal! What sort of phrase is that?" demanded
the Duke.
"It was Empson who used it, my lord, as coming from your Grace."
"There is much very fit for my Grace to say, that misbecomes such
mouths as Empson's or yours to repeat," answered the Duke haughtily,
but instantly resumed his tone of familiarity, for his humour was as
capricious as his pursuits. "But I know what thou wouldst have; first,
your wisdom would know what became of me since thou hadst my commands
at Chiffinch's; and next, your valour would fain sound another
flourish of trumpets on thine own most artificial retreat, leaving thy
comrade in the hands of the Philistines."
"May it please your Grace," said Jerningham, "I did but retreat for
the preservation of the baggage."
"What! do you play at crambo with me?" said the Duke. "I would have
you to know that the common parish fool should be whipt, were he to
attempt to pass pun or quodlibet as a genuine jest, even amongst
ticket-porters and hackney chairmen."
"And yet I have heard your Grace indulge in the /jeu de mots/,"
answered the attendant.
"Sirrah Jerningham," answered the patron, "discard they memory, or
keep it under correction, else it will hamper thy rise in the world.
Thou mayst perchance have seen me also have a fancy to play at trap-
ball, or to kiss a serving wench, or to guzzle ale and eat toasted
cheese in a porterly whimsy; but is it fitting thou shouldst remember
such follies? No more on't. - Hark you; how came the long lubberly
fool, Jenkins, being a master of the noble science of defence, to
suffer himself to be run through the body so simply by a rustic swain
like this same Peveril?"
"Please your Grace, this same Corydon is no such novice. I saw the
onset; and, except in one hand, I never saw a sword managed with such
life, grace, and facility."
"Ay, indeed?" said the Duke, taking his own sheathed rapier in his
hand, "I could not have thought that. I am somewhat rusted, and have
need of breathing. Peveril is a name of note. As well go to the Barns-
elms, or behind Montagu House, with him as with another. His father a
rumoured plotter, too. The public would have noted it in me as
becoming a zealous Protestant. Needful I do something to maintain my
good name in the city, to atone for non-attendance on prayer and
preaching. But your Laertes is fast in the Fleet; and I suppose his
blundering blockhead of an antagonist is dead or dying."
"Recovering, my lord, on the contrary," replied Jerningham; "the blade
fortunately avoided his vitals."
"D - n his vitals!" answered the Duke. "Tell him to postpone his
recovery, or I will put him to death in earnest."
"I will caution his surgeon," said Jerningham, "which will answer
equally well."
"Do so; and tell him he had better be on his own deathbed as cure his
patient till I send him notice. - That young fellow must be let loose
again at no rate."
"There is little danger," said the attendant. "I hear some of the
witnesses have got their net flung over him on account of some matters
down in the north; and that he is to be translated to the Tower for
that, and for some letters of the Countess of Derby, as rumour goes."
"To the Tower let him go, and get out as he can," replied the Duke;
"and when you hear he is fast there, let the fencing fellow recover as
fast as the surgeon and he can mutually settle it."
The Duke, having said this, took two or three turns in the apartment,
and appeared to be in deep thought. His attendant waited the issue of
his meditations with patience, being well aware that such moods,
during which his mind was strongly directed in one point, were never
of so long duration with his patron as to prove a severe burden to his
own patience.
Accordingly, after the silence of seven or eight minutes, the Duke
broke through it, taking from the toilette a large silk purse, which
seemed full of gold. "Jerningham," he said, "thou art a faithful
fellow, and it would be sin not to cherish thee. I beat the King at
Mall on his bold defiance. The honour is enough for me; and thou, my
boy, shalt have the winnings."
Jerningham pocketed the purse with due acknowledgements.
"Jerningham," his Grace continued, "I know you blame me for changing
my plans too often; and on my soul I have heard you so learned on the
subject, that I have become of your opinion, and have been vexed at
myself for two or three hours together, for not sticking as constantly
to one object, as doubtless I shall, when age (touching his forehead)
shall make this same weathercock too rusty to turn with the changing
breeze. But as yet, while I have spirit and action, let it whirl like
the vane at the mast-head, which teaches the pilot how to steer his
course; and when I shift mine, think I am bound to follow Fortune, and
not to control her."
"I can understand nothing from all this, please your Grace," replied
Jerningham, "save that you have been pleased to change some purposed
measures, and think that you have profited by doing so."
"You shall judge yourself," replied the Duke. "I have seen the Duchess
of Portsmouth. - You start. It is true, by Heaven! I have seen her, and
from sworn enemies we have become sworn friends. The treaty between
such high and mighty powers had some weighty articles; besides, I had
a French negotiator to deal with; so that you will allow a few hours'
absence was but a necessary interval to make up our matters of
diplomacy."
"Your Grace astonishes me," said Jerningham. "Christian's plan of
supplanting the great lady is then entirely abandoned? I thought you
had but desired to have the fair successor here, in order to carry it
on under your own management."
"I forgot what I meant at the time," said the Duke; "unless that I was
resolved she should not jilt me as she did the good-natured man of
royalty; and so I am still determined, since you put me in mind of the
fair Dowsabelle. But I had a contrite note from the Duchess while we
were at the Mall. I went to see her, and found her a perfect Niobe. -
On my soul, in spite of red eyes and swelled features, and dishevelled
hair, there are, after all, Jerningham, some women who do, as the
poets say, look lovely in affliction. Out came the cause; and with
such humility, such penitence, such throwing herself on my mercy (she
the proudest devil, too, in the whole Court), that I must have had
heart of steel to resist it all. In short, Chiffinch in a drunken fit
had played the babbler, and let young Saville into our intrigue.
Saville plays the rogue, and informs the Duchess by a messenger, who
luckily came a little late into the market. She learned, too, being a
very devil for intelligence, that there had been some jarring between
the master and me about this new Phillis; and that I was most likely
to catch the bird, - as any one may see who looks on us both. It must
have been Empson who fluted all this into her Grace's ear; and
thinking she saw how her ladyship and I could hunt in couples, she
entreats me to break Christian's scheme, and keep the wench out of the
King's sight, especially if she were such a rare piece of perfection
as fame has reported her."
"And your Grace has promised her your hand to uphold the influence
which you have so often threatened to ruin?" said Jerningham.
"Ay, Jerningham; my turn was as much served when she seemed to own
herself in my power, and cry me mercy. - And observe, it is all one to
me by which ladder I climb into the King's cabinet. That of Portsmouth
is ready fixed - better ascend by it than fling it down to put up
another - I hate all unnecessary trouble."
"And Christian?" said Jerningham.
"May go to the devil for a self-conceited ass. One pleasure of this
twist of intrigue is, to revenge me of that villain, who thought
himself so essential, that, by Heaven! he forced himself on my
privacy, and lectured me like a schoolboy. Hang the cold-blooded
hypocritical vermin! If he mutters, I will have his nose slit as wide
as Coventry's.[*] - Hark ye, is the Colonel come?"
"I expect him every moment, your Grace,"
[*] The ill-usage of Sir John Coventry by some of the Life Guardsmen,
in revenge of something said in Parliament concerning the King's
theatrical amours, gave rise to what was called Coventry's Act,
against cutting and maiming the person.
"Send him up when he arrives," said the Duke. - - "Why do you stand
looking at me? What would you have?"
"Your Grace's direction respecting the young lady," said Jerningham.
"Odd zooks," said the Duke, "I had totally forgotten her. - Is she very
tearful? - Exceedingly afflicted?"
"She does not take on so violently as I have seen some do," said
Jerningham; "but for a strong, firm, concentrated indignation, I have
seen none to match her."
"Well, we will permit her to cool. I will not face the affliction of a
second fair one immediately. I am tired of snivelling, and swelled
eyes, and blubbered cheeks for some time; and, moreover, must husband
my powers of consolation. Begone, and send the Colonel."
"Will your Grace permit me one other question?" demanded his
confidant.
"Ask what thou wilt, Jerningham, and then begone."
"Your Grace has determined to give up Christian," said the attendant.
"May I ask what becomes of the kingdom of Man?"
"Forgotten, as I have a Christian soul!" said the Duke; "as much
forgotten as if I had never nourished that scheme of royal ambition. -
D - n it, we must knit up the ravelled skein of that intrigue. - Yet it
is but a miserable rock, not worth the trouble I have been bestowing
on it; and for a kingdom - it has a sound indeed; but, in reality, I
might as well stick a cock-chicken's feather into my hat, and call it
a plume. Besides, now I think upon it, it would scarce be honourable
to sweep that petty royalty out of Derby's possession. I won a
thousand pieces of the young Earl when he was last here, and suffered
him to hang about me at Court. I question if the whole revenue of his
kingdom is worth twice as much. Easily I could win it of him, were he
here, with less trouble than it would cost me to carry on these
troublesome intrigues of Christian's."
"If I may be permitted to say so, please your Grace," answered
Jerningham, "although your Grace is perhaps somewhat liable to change
your mind, no man in England can afford better reasons for doing so."
"I think so myself, Jerningham," said the Duke; "and it may be it is
one reason for my changing. One likes to vindicate his own conduct,
and to find out fine reasons for doing what one has a mind to. - And
now, once again, begone. Or, hark ye - hark ye - I shall need some loose
gold. You may leave the purse I gave you; and I will give you an order
for as much, and two years' interest, on old Jacob Doublefee."
"As your Grace pleases," said Jerningham, his whole stock of
complaisance scarcely able to conceal his mortification at exchanging
for a distant order, of a kind which of late had not been very
regularly honoured, the sunny contents of the purse which had actually
been in his pocket. Secretly, but solemnly did he make a vow, that two
years' interest alone should not be the compensation for this
involuntary exchange in the form of his remuneration.
As the discontented dependant left the apartment, he met, at the head
of the grand staircase, Christian himself, who, exercising the freedom
of an ancient friend of the house, was making his way, unannounced, to
the Duke's dressing apartment. Jerningham, conjecturing that his visit
at this crisis would be anything but well timed, or well taken,
endeavoured to avert his purpose by asserting that the Duke was
indisposed, and in his bedchamber; and this he said so loud that his
master might hear him, and, if he pleased, realise the apology which
he offered in his name, by retreating into the bedroom as his last
sanctuary, and drawing the bolt against intrusion.
But, far from adopting a stratagem to which he had had recourse on
former occasions, in order to avoid those who came upon him, though at
an appointed hour, and upon business of importance, Buckingham called,
in a loud voice, from his dressing apartment, commanding his
chamberlain instantly to introduce his good friend Master Christian,
and censuring him for hesitating for an instant to do so.
"Now," thought Jerningham within himself, "if Christian knew the Duke
as well as I do, he would sooner stand the leap of a lion, like the
London 'prentice bold, than venture on my master at this moment, who
is even now in a humour nearly as dangerous as the animal."
He then ushered Christian into his master's presence, taking care to
post himself within earshot of the door.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
"Speak not of niceness, when there's chance of wreck,"
The captain said, as ladies writhed their neck
To see the dying dolphin flap the deck:
"If we go down, on us these gentry sup;
We dine upon them, if we haul them up.
Wise men applaud us when we eat the eaters,
As the devil laughs when keen folks cheat the cheaters."
- THE SEA VOYAGE.
There was nothing in Duke's manner towards Christian which could have
conveyed to that latter personage, experienced as he was in the worst
possible ways of the world, that Buckingham would, at that particular
moment, rather have seen the devil than himself; unless it was that
Buckingham's reception of him, being rather extraordinarily courteous
towards so old an acquaintance, might have excited some degree of
suspicion.
Having escaped with some difficulty from the vague region of general
compliments, which bears the same relation to that of business that
Milton informs us the /Limbo Patrum/ has to the sensible and material
earth, Christian asked his Grace of Buckingham, with the same blunt
plainness with which he usually veiled a very deep and artificial
character, whether he had lately seen Chiffinch or his helpmate?
"Neither of them lately," answered Buckingham. "Have not you waited on
them yourself? - I thought you would have been more anxious about the
great scheme."
"I have called once and again," said Christian, "but I can gain no
access to the sight of that important couple. I begin to be afraid
they are paltering with me."
"Which, by the welkin and its stars, you would not be slow in
avenging, Master Christian. I know your puritanical principles on that
point well," said the Duke. "Revenge may be well said to be sweet,
when so many grave and wise men are ready to exchange for it all the
sugar-plums which pleasures offer to the poor sinful people of the
world, besides the reversion of those which they talk of expecting in
the way of /post obit/."
"You may jest, my lord," said Christian, "but still - - "
"But still you will be revenged on Chiffinch, and his little
commodious companion. And yet the task may be difficult - Chiffinch has
so many ways of obliging his master - his little woman is such a
convenient pretty sort of a screen, and has such winning little ways
of her own, that, in faith, in your case, I would not meddle with
them. What is this refusing their door, man? We all do it to our best
friends now and then, as well as to duns and dull company."
"If your Grace is in a humour of rambling thus wildly in your talk,"
said Christian, "you know my old faculty of patience - I can wait till
it be your pleasure to talk more seriously."
"Seriously!" said his Grace - "Wherefore not? - I only wait to know what
your serious business may be."
"In a word, my lord, from Chiffinch's refusal to see me, and some vain
calls which I have made at your Grace's mansion, I am afraid either
that our plan has miscarried, or that there is some intention to
exclude me from the farther conduct of the matter." Christian
pronounced these words with considerable emphasis.
"That were folly as well as treachery," returned the Duke, "to exclude
from the spoil the very engineer who conducted the attack. But hark
ye, Christian - I am sorry to tell bad news without preparation; but as
you insist on knowing the worst, and are not ashamed to suspect your
best friends, out it must come - Your niece left Chiffinch's house the
morning before yesterday."
Christian staggered, as if he had received a severe blow; and the
blood ran to his face in such a current of passion, that the Duke
concluded he was struck with an apoplexy. But, exerting the
extraordinary command which he could maintain under the most trying
circumstances, he said, with a voice, the composure of which had an
unnatural contrast with the alteration of his countenance, "Am I to
conclude, that in leaving the protection of the roof in which I placed
her, the girl has found shelter under that of your Grace?"
"Sir," replied Buckingham gravely, "the supposition does my gallantry
more credit than it deserves."
"Oh, my Lord Duke," answered Christian, "I am not one whom you can
impose on by this species of courtly jargon. I know of what your Grace
is capable; and that to gratify the caprice of a moment you would not
hesitate to disappoint even the schemes at which you yourself have
laboured most busily. - Suppose this jest played off. Take your laugh
at those simple precautions by which I intended to protect your
Grace's interest, as well as that of others. Let us know the extent of
your frolic, and consider how far its consequences can be repaired."
"On my word, Christian," said the Duke, laughing, "you are the most
obliging of uncles and of guardians. Let your niece pass through as
many adventures as Boccaccio's bride of the King of Garba, you care
not. Pure or soiled, she will still make the footstool of your
fortune."
An Indian proverb says, that the dart of contempt will even pierce
through the shell of the tortoise; but this is more peculiarly the
case when conscience tells the subject of the sarcasm that it is
justly merited. Christian, stung with Buckingham's reproach, at once
assumed a haughty and threatening mien, totally inconsistent with that
in which sufferance seemed to be as much his badge as that of Shylock.
"You are a foul-mouthed and most unworthy lord," he said; "and as such
I will proclaim you, unless you make reparation for the injury you
have done me."
"And what," said the Duke of Buckingham, "shall I proclaim /you/, that
can give you the least title to notice from such as I am? What name
shall I bestow on the little transaction which has given rise to such
unexpected misunderstanding?"
Christian was silent, either from rage or from mental conviction.
"Come, come, Christian," said the Duke, smiling, "we know too much of
each other to make a quarrel safe. Hate each other we may - circumvent
each other - it is the way of Courts - but proclaim! - a fico for the
phrase."
"I used it not," said Christian, "till your Grace drove me to
extremity. You know, my lord, I have fought both at home and abroad;
and you should not rashly think that I will endure any indignity which
blood can wipe away."
"On the contrary," said the Duke, with the same civil and sneering
manner, "I can confidently assert, that the life of half a score of
your friends would seem very light to you, Christian, if their
existence interfered, I do not say with your character, as being a
thing of much less consequence, but with any advantage which their
existence might intercept. Fie upon it, man, we have known each other
long. I never thought you a coward; and am only glad to see I could
strike a few sparkles of heat out of your cold and constant
disposition. I will now, if you please, tell you at once the fate of
the young lady, in which I pray you to believe that I am truly
interested."
"I hear you, my Lord Duke," said Christian. "The curl of your upper
lip, and your eyebrow, does not escape me. Your Grace knows the French
proverb, 'He laughs best who laughs last.' But I hear you."
"Thank Heaven you do," said Buckingham; "for your case requires haste,
I promise you, and involves no laughing matter. Well then, hear a
simple truth, on which (if it became me to offer any pledge for what I
assert to be such) I could pledge life, fortune, and honour. It was
the morning before last, when meeting with the King at Chiffinch's
unexpectedly - in fact I had looked in to fool an hour away, and to
learn how your scheme advanced - I saw a singular scene. Your niece
terrified little Chiffinch - (the hen Chiffinch, I mean) - bid the King
defiance to his teeth, and walked out of the presence triumphantly,
under the guardianship of a young fellow of little mark or likelihood,
excepting a tolerable personal presence, and the advantage of a most
unconquerable impudence. Egad, I can hardly help laughing to think how
the King and I were both baffled; for I will not deny, that I had
tried to trifle for a moment with the fair Indamora. But, egad, the
young fellow swooped her off from under our noses, like my own
Drawcansir clearing off the banquet from the two Kings of Brentford.
There was a dignity in the gallant's swaggering retreat which I must
try to teach Mohun;[*] it will suit his part admirably."
[*] Then a noted actor.
"This is incomprehensible, my Lord Duke," said Christian, who by this
time had recovered all his usual coolness; "you cannot expect me to
believe this. Who dared be so bold as to carry of my niece in such a
manner, and from so august a presence? And with whom, a stranger as he
must have been, would she, wise and cautious as I know her, have
consented to depart in such a manner? - My lord, I cannot believe
this."
"One of your priests, my most devoted Christian," replied the Duke,
"would only answer, Die, infidel, in thine unbelief; but I am only a
poor worldling sinner, and I will add what mite of information I can.
The young fellow's name, as I am given to understand, is Julian, son
of Sir Geoffrey, whom men call Peveril of the Peak."
"Peveril of the Devil, who hath his cavern there!" said Christian
warmly; "for I know that gallant, and believe him capable of anything
bold and desperate. But how could he intrude himself into the royal
presence? Either Hell aids him, or Heaven looks nearer into mortal
dealings than I have yet believed. If so, may God forgive us, who
deemed he thought not on us at all!"
"Amen, most Christian Christian," replied the Duke. "I am glad to see
thou hast yet some touch of grace that leads thee to augur so. But
Empson, the hen Chiffinch, and half-a-dozen more, saw the swain's
entrance and departure. Please examine these witnesses with your own
wisdom, if you think your time may not be better employed in tracing
the fugitives. I believe he gained entrance as one of some dancing or
masking party. Rowley, you know, is accessible to all who will come
forth to make him sport. So in stole this termagant tearing gallant,
like Samson among the Philistines, to pull down our fine scheme about
our ears."
"I believe you, my lord," said Christian; "I cannot but believe you;
and I forgive you, since it is your nature, for making sport of what
is ruin and destruction. But which way did they take?"
"To Derbyshire, I should presume, to seek her father," said the Duke.
"She spoke of going into paternal protection, instead of yours, Master
Christian. Something had chanced at Chiffinch's, to give her cause to
suspect that you had not altogether provided for his daughter in the
manner which her father was likely to approve of."
"Now, Heaven be praised," said Christian, "she knows not her father is
come to London! and they must be gone down either to Martindale
Castle, or to Moultrassie Hall; in either case they are in my power - I
must follow them close. I will return instantly to Derbyshire - I am
undone if she meet her father until these errors are amended. Adieu,
my lord. I forgive the part which I fear your Grace must have had in
baulking our enterprise - it is no time for mutual reproaches."
"You speak truth, Master Christian," said the Duke, "and I wish you
all success. Can I help you with men, or horses, or money?"
"I thank your Grace," said Christian, and hastily left the apartment.
The Duke watched his descending footsteps on the staircase, until they
could be heard no longer, and then exclaimed to Jerningham, who
entered, "/Victoria! victoria! magna est veritas et prævalebit!/ - Had
I told the villain a word of a lie, he is so familiar with all the
regions of falsehood - his whole life has been such an absolute
imposture, that I had stood detected in an instant; but I told him
truth, and that was the only means of deceiving him. Victoria! my dear
Jerningham, I am prouder of cheating Christian, than I should have
been of circumventing a minister of state."
"Your Grace holds his wisdom very high," said the attendant.
"His cunning, at least, I do, which, in Court affairs, often takes the
weather-gage of wisdom, - as in Yarmouth Roads a herring-buss will
baffle a frigate. He shall not return to London if I can help it,
until all these intrigues are over."
As his Grace spoke, the Colonel, after whom he had repeatedly made
inquiry, was announced by a gentleman of his household. "He met not
Christian, did he?" said the Duke hastily.
"No, my lord," returned the domestic, "the Colonel came by the old
garden staircase."
"I judged as much," replied the Duke; "'tis an owl that will not take
wing in daylight, when there is a thicket left to skulk under. Here he
comes from threading lane, vault, and ruinous alley, very near ominous
a creature as the fowl of ill augury which he resembles."
The Colonel, to whom no other appellation seemed to be given, than
that which belonged to his military station, now entered the
apartment. He was tall, strongly built, and past the middle period of
life, and his countenance, but for the heavy cloud which dwelt upon
it, might have been pronounced a handsome one. While the Duke spoke to
him, either from humility or some other cause, his large serious eye
was cast down upon the ground; but he raised it when he answered, with
a keen look of earnest observation. His dress was very plain, and more
allied to that of the Puritans than of the Cavaliers of the time; a
shadowy black hat, like the Spanish sombrero; a large black mantle or
cloak, and a long rapier, gave him something the air of a Castilione,
to which his gravity and stiffness of demeanour added considerable
strength.
"Well, Colonel," said the Duke, "we have been long strangers - how have
matters gone with you?"
"As with other men of action in quiet times," answered the colonel,
"or as a good war-caper[*] that lies high and dry in a muddy creek,
till seams and planks are rent and riven."
[*] A privateer.
"Well, Colonel," said the Duke, "I have used your valour before now,
and I may again; so that I shall speedily see that the vessel is
careened, and undergoes a thorough repair."
"I conjecture, then," said the Colonel, "that your Grace has some
voyage in hand?"
"No, but there is one which I want to interrupt," replied the Duke.
"Tis but another stave of the same tune. - Well, my lord, I listen,"
answered the stranger.
"Nay," said the Duke, "it is but a trifling matter after all. - You
know Ned Christian?"
"Ay, surely, my lord," replied the Colonel, "we have been long known
to each other."
"He is about to go down to Derbyshire to seek a certain niece of his,
whom he will scarcely find there. Now, I trust to your tried
friendship to interrupt his return to London. Go with him, or meet
him, cajole him, or assail him, or do what thou wilt with him - only
keep him from London for a fortnight at least, and then I care little
how soon he comes."
"For by that time, I suppose," replied the Colonel, "any one may find
the wench that thinks her worth the looking for."
"Thou mayst think her worth the looking for thyself, Colonel,"
rejoined the Duke; "I promise you she hath many a thousand stitched to
her petticoat; such a wife would save thee from skeldering on the
public."
"My lord, I sell my blood and my sword, but not my honour," answered
the man sullenly; "if I marry, my bed may be a poor, but it shall be
an honest one."