by Andrew Lang
CHAPTER XI
THE PARSON DEPARTS FROM SMILINDA AND LEARNS A NUMBER OF UNPALATABLE TRUTHS
Mr. Wogan then returned to Morlaix, and, finding his ketch by thistime cleaned and refitted, and two others (the _Revolution_, a bigship of 40 guns, under Morgan, which was afterwards seized byCommodore Scot at Genoa, and the _Lady Mary_, a smaller vessel of 14guns, commanded by Captain Patrick Campbell) at anchor in the harbour,he set sail for the Downs. There they picked up four thousand smallarms and a couple of hundred kintals of cannon powder, for traffic, itwas alleged, on the coasts of Brazil and Madagascar. But the arms andammunition travelled no further than Bilboa, where they were stored inthe country house of Mr. Brown, an Irish merchant of that part,against the next expedition to England. At Bilboa the three shipsparted, and Mr. Wogan, taking in upon freight such goods as he couldget, sailed to Genoa, and lay there behind the Mole.
Nor was the Parson to tarry long behind him in London; for less than afortnight after Wogan's departure, he was sent to carry to Rome, forthe Chevalier's approval, a scheme of a lottery for raising a quarterof a million pounds, which Mr. Christopher Layer (later hanged) mostingeniously imagined. With the scheme he carried some silk stockingsas a present for the Chevalier and his spouse. This was none of theBishop of Rochester's work, who knew nothing of Mr. Layer, and of whatwas later plotted by bold and impatient spirits. The Parson had sadwork parting with Smilinda, but made light of the separation to savethe lady from distress, and she had happily broken a bank at pharothat same night, which withheld her from entirely breaking her heart.Still, it was as affecting an affair as one could wish for.
The Parson received certain orders of Atterbury's as to business withGeneral Dillon, the Chevalier's manager in Paris, just before he wasto start; and, coming from the Deanery at Westminster where the Bishopresided, he walked at once through Petty France to Queen's Square.Lady Oxford's house was all in a blaze of light with figures moving toand fro upon the blinds of the windows. 'Mr. Johnson' was announced,but for some little while could not get a private word with herladyship, and so stood of one side, taking his fill of that perfumedworld of fans and hoops, of sparkling eyes and patches and falsehearts wherein Lady Oxford so fitly moved. Many of the faces whichflitted before his eyes were strange to him, but one he remarked inparticular--a strong, square sort of face set on the top of an elegantfigure that wore the uniform of the King's Guards. Mr. Kelly had seenthat face under the oil-lamp of a portico in Ryder Street on theoccasion when he and Nicholas Wogan set out on their first journey toBrampton Bryan, and the officer who owned the face was now a certainColonel Montague.
Kelly remarked him because he was playing at the same table with herladyship, and losing his money to her with all the grace in the world.At last Lady Oxford rose, and, coming towards him:
'Well?' she murmured, 'my Strephon is pale.'
'I leave for Rome to-morrow morning,' he returned in a whisper. Atthat her hand went up to her heart, and she caught her breath.
'Wait,' said she, and went back to her cards. As the guests weredeparting some two hours later, she called to Kelly openly.
'Mr. Johnson leaves for Paris to-morrow morning, and has the greatkindness to carry over some of my brocades, which indeed need muchbetter repairing than they can get in London.'
It made an excuse for Mr. Johnson to stay, but none the less provokeda smile here and there; and Colonel Montague, deliberately coming to astop a few paces from Kelly, took careful stock of him. The Coloneldid not say a word, but just looked him over. Mr. Kelly was tickled bythe man's impudence, and turned slowly round on his heels to give himan opportunity of admiring his back. Then he faced him again. TheColonel gravely bowed his thanks for Mr. Kelly's politeness, Mr. Kellyas gravely returned the bow, and the Colonel stalked out of the door.It was in this way that Mr. Kelly and the Colonel first met.
But the moment Smilinda and Strephon were left alone!
'Oh,' wailed Smilinda, and her arms went round Strephon's neck.'_Heureuse en jeu, malheureuse en amour_. O fatal cards, would that Ihad lost this dross!' cries she, with her eyes on the glittering heapof guineas and doubloons strewed about the table. 'Oh, Strephon, thouwilt forget me in another's arms. I dread the French syrens.'
And then Mr. Kelly to the same tune:
'Never will I forget Smilinda. If I come back with the King, and hemakes me a Bishop, with a pastoral crook, thy Strephon will still betrue.'
Whereat the lady laughed, though Kelly was jesting with a heavy heart,and vowed that Lady Mary would write a ballad on 'Strephon, or theFaithful Bishop.' Then she fell into a story of lovely Mrs. Tusher,the Bishop of Ealing's wife, who was certainly more fair thanfaithful. Next she wept again, and so yawned, and gave him herportrait in miniature.
'You will not part with it--never--never,' she implored.
The portrait was beautifully set with diamonds.
'It shall be buried with me,' said Kelly, and so Lady Oxford let himgo, but called him back again when he was through the door to make himpromise again that he would not part with her portrait. Mr. Kellywondered a little at her insistence, but set it down to the strengthof her affection. So he departed from the cave of the enchantress withmany vows of mutual constancy and went to Rome, and from Rome he cameback to Genoa, where he fell in with Nicholas Wogan.
Mr. Wogan remembers very well one night on which the pair of them,after cracking a bottle in Grimble's tavern, came down to thewater-gate and were rowed on board of Wogan's ketch. This was in thespring of the year 1721, some four or five months since the Parson hadleft England, and Wogan thought it altogether a very suitable occasionfor what he had to say. He took the Parson down into his cabin, andthere, while the lamp flecked the mahogany panels with light andshade, and the water tinkled against the ship's planks as it swungwith the tide, he told him all that he had surmised of Lady Oxford'scharacter, and how Lady Mary had corroborated his surmises. At thefirst Mr. Kelly would hear nothing of his arguments.
'It is pure treason,' said he. 'From any other man but you, Nick, Iwould not have listened to more than a word, and that word I wouldhave made him eat. But I take it ill even from you. Why do you tell methis now? Why did you not tell it me in London, when I could havegiven her ladyship a chance of answering the slander?'
'Why,' replied Wogan, 'because I know very well the answer she wouldhave made to you--a few words of no account whatever, and her softarms about your neck, and you'd have been convinced. But now, when youhave not seen her for so long, there's a chance you may come to yoursenses. Did you never wonder what brought Scrope to Brampton Bryan?'
'No need for wonder since she told me.'
'She told you, did she? Well, I'm telling you now, and do you sitthere until I have told you, for Mr. Scrope's history you are going tohear. Bah, leave that bodkin of a sword alone. If you draw it, upon mysoul I'll knock you down and kneel on your chest. Mr. Scrope wentbefore you in her ladyship's affections.'
Here Mr. Kelly flinched as though he had been struck, and thereaftersat with a white stern face as though he would not condescend toanswer the insinuation. 'Sure he was a gentleman--out ofLeicestershire, and of some fortune, which fortune Lady Oxford spentfor him. He was besides a sad, pertinacious fellow, and nothing wouldcontent him but she must elope with him from her old husband, and makefor themselves a Paradise on the Rhine. It appears that he talked allthe old nonsense--they were man and wife in the sight of God, and therest of it. Her ladyship was put to it for shifts and excuses, and atthe last, what with his money being almost spent, and his suit morepressing, she fled into the country where we met her. Scrope was nobetter than a kitten before its eyes are opened, and, getting togetherwhat was left of his fortune, followed her with a chaise, meaning tocarry her off there and then. However, he found us there, and I takeit that opened his eyes. And I would have you beware of Mr. Scrope,George. A kitten becomes a cat, and a cat has claws. It is Lady Mary'sthought that you have not heard the last
of him, for his consciencehath made him a kind of gentleman spy on the honest party.'
George, who in spite of himself could not but see how exactly Wogan'saccount fitted in with and explained Scrope's attempt after themasquerade, caught at Lady Mary's name with an eager relief.
'Ah, it was she gave you this flimsy story,' he cried, leaning forwardover the table. 'There's more malice in it than truth, Nick. The pairof them have been at loggerheads this long while. Lady Mary nevercould suffer a woman who can hold her own against her. Why, Nick, youhave been gulled,' and he lit his pipe, which he had let go out.
'Oh, and have I? Well, at all events, I have not stripped myself ofevery penny in order to pay Lady Oxford's losses at cards. Scrope isnot the only man whom her ladyship has sucked dry.'
'What do you mean?' cried Kelly, letting his pipe slip out of hisfingers and break on the floor. Wogan told him of his visit to LadyMary, and the story was so circumstantial, the dates of the loss atcards and the payment so fitted with Lady Oxford's message to Kellyand her proposal as to the placing of his fortune, that it could notbut give him pause.
'It is not true,' was all he could find to say, and 'I'll not believeit,' and so fell to silence.
'You'll be wanting another pipe,' said Wogan. He fetched one from acupboard and filled it. The two men smoked for a while in silence.Then Kelly burst out of a sudden:
'Nick, the fool that I was ever to preach that sermon in Dublin,' andstopped. Wogan knew well enough what the Parson meant. His thoughtshad gone back to the little parsonage, and the rambling cure of half adozen parishes, and the quiet library, and evenings by the inn-fire,where he would tell his little trivial stories of the day's doings. Itwas always that dream he would play with and fondle when the worldwent wrong with him, though to be sure, could the dream have cometrue, he would have been the unhappiest man that ever breathed Irishair.
'Shall we go on deck?' Wogan proposed.
It was a fine clear night, but there was no moon. The riding-lights ofships at anchor were dotted about the harbour, the stars blazed in arich sky; the water rippled black and seemed to flash sparks where thelights struck it; outside the harbour the Mediterranean stretched awaysmooth as a slab of marble. Kelly stood in the chains while Woganpaced up and down the deck. The Parson was in for his black hour, andsilent companionship is the only alleviation for the trouble. After atime he came towards Wogan and caught him by the arm, but so tightthat Wogan could feel his friend's finger-nails through the thicksleeves of his coat.
'I'll not believe it,' Kelly argued; but it was against himself he wasarguing now, as Wogan perceived, and had the discretion to hold histongue. ''Faith,' he continued, 'she came into my life like a glint ofthe sun into a musty dark room,' and then he suddenly put his handinto his bosom and drew out something at which he looked for a moment.He laughed bitterly and swung his arm back. Before, however, he couldthrow that something into the sea Wogan caught his hand.
'Sure,' said he, 'I saw a sparkle of diamonds.'
Kelly opened his hand and showed a miniature.
'Lady Oxford's diamonds,' he answered bitterly, 'which she did notsell, but gave out of a loving, generous heart.'
'George, you're moon-struck,' said Wogan. 'Diamonds, after all, arealways diamonds.'
'True,' said Kelly, 'and I promised never to part with them,' hesneered. He put the miniature back in his pocket, and then droppinghis arm to his side said,
'Put me ashore, Nick. I will see you to-morrow. I am very tired.'
But in the morning he was gone, and a few days later Nick, who was notspared certain prickings of conscience for the hand he had taken inbringing about the Parson's misfortunes (he had just now, by hinderinghim from throwing away the miniature, taken more of a hand than heguessed), sailed out from Genoa.
The rest of that year '21 was a busy time for all engaged inforwarding the Great Affair. England itself seemed ripe for theattempt, and it was finally determined to hazard it in the spring ofthe next year, when the Elector would be in Hanover. The new plan wasthat the exiled Duke of Ormond, whom the soldiers were thought tolove, should sail from Spain with the Earl Marischal, Morgan, andHalstead, commanding some ragged regiments of Mr. Wogan's countrymen.The Duke was to land in the west, the King was to be at Antwerp readyto come over, and the young Prince Charles of Wales, who would then benot quite two years old, was to be carried to the Highlands. A mob wasto be in readiness in town, with arms secretly buried; the soldierswere expected to declare for High Church and Ormond; and in a word the'honest party' was to secure its interest on its own bottom, withoutforeign help, which the English people has never loved. The richlords, but not Bishop Atterbury, knew of the beginning of this scheme,but abandoned it. They did not know, or only Lords North and Greyknew, that the scheme lived on without them.
Mr. Kelly therefore had his hands full, and it was very well for himthat it was so. There were things at stake of more moment than hislove-affairs, as he was the first to recognise. Yet, even so, he hadtime enough, in the saddle and on the sea, to plumb the black depthsof his chagrin and to toss to and fro that shuttlecock of a question,whether he should accuse her ladyship for her trickeries or himselffor misdoubting her. However, he got a complete answer to thatquestion before the year was out. It was his habit now, whenever hewas in London, to skulk out of sight and knowledge of Lady Oxford, toavoid theatres, routs, drums, and all places where she might be met,and Mr. Carte the historian took his place when it was necessary tovisit Lord Oxford in the country. Mr. Carte had a ready pretence, forLord Oxford kept a great store of old manuscripts concerning thehistory of the country, and these beauties, it is to be feared, camesomewhat between Mr. Carte and his business, just as her ladyship'seyes had come between Mr. Kelly's and his. Accordingly the Parson sawlittle of her ladyship and heard less, since his friends avoided allmention of her and he himself asked no questions.
'Saw little,' and the phrase is intended. For often enough of anevening his misery would fetch him out of the coffee houses and leadhim like a man blindfold to where her ladyship was accustomed tovisit. There he would stand in the darkness of the street until thedoor opened and Lady Oxford, all smiles and hooped petticoats, wouldtrip gaily out to her chair. But very likely habit--the habit of herconversation and appearance--had as much to do with this particularfolly as any despairing passion. How many lovers the wide world overfancy they are bemoaning their broken hearts, when they are onlydeploring their broken habits! Well, Mr. Kelly, at all events, tookthe matter _au grand serieux_, and so one night saw her ladyship comeout from the porch of Drury Lane theatre in company with ColonelMontague.
There is one unprofitable piece of knowledge which a man acquires whohas ever had a woman make love to him; he knows when that woman ismaking love to someone else. Lady Oxford's modest droop of the headwhen the Colonel spoke, her shy sidelong smile at him, her red lips atrifle parted as though his mere presence held her in a pleasedsuspense--all these tokens were familiar to Mr. Kelly as his dailybread, and he went home eating his own heart, and nursing a quiteunjustifiable resentment against Nicholas Wogan for that he ever savedthe Colonel's life. It did not take Kelly long to discover that hissuspicions were correct. A few questions to his friends, who for hissake had kept silence, and the truth was out. Lady Oxford's constancyhad lasted precisely seven weeks before the Whig colonel had steppedinto the Jacobite parson's shoes. Mr. Kelly put his heart beneath hisheel and now stamped her image out of it. Then he went upon his way,and the King's business took him to Avignon.