Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651
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CHAPTER I.
SHOWING HOW THE HUNTING-LODGE WAS BUILT BY THE LORD OF CHILLINGTON, ANDHOW IT ACQUIRED ITS NAME.
Towards the latter part of Elizabeth's reign, when those who professedthe tenets of the Church of Rome were prevented by heavy penalties fromperforming the rites of their religion, while such as refused to takethe oath of supremacy were held guilty of high treason, John Giffard,eleventh Lord of Chillington, in Staffordshire, himself a strict RomanCatholic, and a great sufferer from the oppressive measures referredto, determined to provide a safe asylum for recusants in a secludedpart of his domains; and with this view he built a hunting-lodge in thedepths of Brewood Forest, which then belonged to him, and contrivedwithin the lonesome structure several secret hiding-places.
The situation was remarkably well chosen. Buried in a wood, whereit was hardly likely to be discovered, the hunting-lodge was placedon the exact boundary line between Shropshire and Staffordshire, sothat it was difficult to say in which county it stood. The wholesurrounding district was covered with woods and commons--the nearesthabitations being the ruined monasteries of White Ladies and BlackLadies. Several large trees had been removed to make way for the lodgeand the outbuildings connected with it, but it was screened by majesticoaks, which grew within a few yards of the gates. Through these treesenchanting views could be obtained of the sylvan scenery beyond,of vale and upland, and purple heath, until the vast prospect wasterminated by the picturesque Clee Hills and the blue outline of theWrekin.
Nothing, however, save forest timber could be discerned in theimmediate vicinity of the lodge, and from this circumstance it obtainedits designation. On the completion of the building, the Squire ofChillington invited some of his friends to the house-warming. Amongthem was Sir Basil Brooke, then newly returned from Rome.
"How shall I name the place?" asked John Giffard.
"I will give you a charming and appropriate name for it," replied SirBasil. "Call it Boscobel--from the Italian Bosco bello--Fair Wood."
The suggestion was adopted, and BOSCOBEL it became.
The solitary forest lodge answered its double purpose well. Its realobject was not suspected, nor were its hiding-places discovered, thoughoften resorted to by recusants during the reigns of Elizabeth andJames I. Hunting and hawking-parties were sometimes assembled at thelodge by the Squire of Chillington to keep up appearances, but on suchoccasions due precautions were always taken for the security of thosehidden within the house. No servants were employed except those onwhose fidelity entire reliance could be placed--and who were themselvesRomanists. Of the numbers of persecuted priests harboured at Boscobelnone were ever betrayed. Nor during the Civil Wars was a fugitiveCavalier ever refused shelter.
A staunch Royalist as well as zealous Romanist, Peter Giffard, grandsonof the builder of Boscobel, suffered severely for his adherence to thecause of the unfortunate Charles I. His noble ancestral domains wereconfiscated, and he himself was imprisoned at Stafford. Not till theRestoration did the loyal family recover their estates.
At the time of our history Chillington was almost entirely abandoned.In this magnificent mansion Queen Elizabeth had been entertained inprincely style during one of her progresses by John Giffard; and thehouse, from its size and situation, had been once under considerationas a suitable place of confinement for Mary, Queen of Scots. Itshospitalities were now at an end--its halls desolate. When theunfortunate Peter Giffard was deprived of his abode, Chillington wasconverted into a garrison by Sir William Brereton, and great damagedone to it by the Parliamentary soldiers. Luckily, they could notdestroy the beautiful avenue and the park, though they despoiled thehouse and laid waste the splendid old gardens.
Boscobel, though only two miles distant from the hall, escaped injuryat this perilous juncture. William Penderel, who had been placed incharge of the lodge by the Squire of Chillington, was not disturbed,and was consequently able to afford shelter to many a Royalist. Therest of the brothers were equally lucky. George was allowed to remainat White Ladies, and the others pursued their quiet avocations in theforest. No doubt they enjoyed this immunity solely because they did notexcite Sir William Brereton's suspicions.
William Penderel had now been two-and-twenty years at Boscobel. Theoffice of under-steward was conferred upon him at the time of hismarriage, so that he obtained a most comfortable residence for himselfand his wife--the only drawback being that the tenure of the post wassomewhat insecure, and when the Chillington estates were sequestered,he fully expected to be turned off. However, he was at Boscobel still.William had four children--two sons and two daughters--but they werenow from home.
In Dame Joan, his wife, he possessed a capital helpmate. She couldnot boast of much personal attraction, but she had many excellentqualities. A model of prudence, she could be safely trusted on allemergencies, and she was as good-tempered as discreet. Tall and strong,Dame Joan was not masculine either in look or manner, and her features,though plain and homely, had a kindly expression, that did not belieher nature. She had a thoroughly honest look, and the tidiness of herapparel proclaimed an excellent housewife. Such was the opinion formedby Charles of this worthy woman, as he beheld her for the first time,when crossing the threshold of Boscobel House.
After making him an obeisance, not devoid of a certain rustic grace,Joan drew back respectfully, and ushered his majesty and Careless intoa parlour on the ground floor, and then made another obeisance.
"Oddsfish! my good dame," said Charles, smiling. "You understandmatters of ceremony so well, that you must e'en come tocourt--supposing I should ever have a court."
"Boscobel was greatly honoured when the Earl of Derby sought shelterhere," replied Joan. "But it is now far more highly honoured since yourmajesty has set foot within the house. My husband and myself are notfitting persons to receive your majesty, but we will do our best, andyou may depend upon it we will watch over you most carefully."
This was the finest speech Joan had ever delivered, but she deemed itnecessary to the occasion. Charles thanked her graciously, but said,"Mark me, my good dame. All ceremony must be laid aside. Any observanceof it might endanger my safety. When I put on this garb I became one ofyourselves. Address me only as Will Jackson."
"I can never bring myself to address your majesty by such a name asthat!" said Joan.
"Wife! wife!" cried William Penderel from behind. "You must do whateverhis majesty bids you, without a word."
"Why, you are committing a similar error, William," laughed the king."But if you desire to oblige me, my good dame, you will go and preparebreakfast."
"Master William Jackson shall have the best the house can furnish--andquickly," replied Joan, departing.
The apartment into which the king had been shown was tolerably large,though the ceiling was low, and it was lighted by a bay-window atthe further end, and by a lattice-window at the side, commandingthe entrance to the house, and looking out upon the wood. A verypleasant room, wainscoted with black oak, and furnished with an ampledining-table, and chairs of the same material. In the days of old JohnGiffard many a festive party had gathered round that board after aday's hunting or hawking in the forest, but it was long, long sincethere had been revelry of any kind at the lodge. Over the carved oakmantel-piece hung a picture that caught Charles's attention. It was theportrait of a grave-looking personage in a velvet doublet and ruff,with eyes so life-like that they seemed to return the king's glances.
"The old gentleman above the fireplace appears to bid me welcome,"observed Charles. "He has a fine face."
"It is the portrait of Squire John Giffard of Chillington, who builtthis house, my liege," said William Penderel. "It has always beenaccounted a good likeness. Ah! if the worthy squire could but haveforeseen who would come here for shelter! Some good saint must haveinspired him, when he contrived the hiding-places."
"Of a truth, I ought to feel much beholden to him for providing me withsuch a place of refuge," remarked Charles.
While examining the room, the king noticed a door on th
e left, andfound on investigation that it opened on a small closet, with alattice-window looking upon a retired part of the garden. There was nofurniture in the closet except a desk, which might be used for prayer.
"Is this one of the hiding-places?" asked Charles.
"No, my liege," replied William Penderel, who had followed him. "Thisis an oratory. We are Roman Catholics, as your majesty is aware."
"I see no altar," observed Charles.
William Penderel opened a recess in the wall, so contrived that it hadquite escaped the king's attention, and disclosed a small altar, with across above it.
"Here we pay our devotions in private," he said.
"And here I will pay mine," rejoined Charles. "I must return thanksto the Great Power that has hitherto preserved me. Leave me."
Careless and William Penderel at once retired, and closed the door ofthe oratory.
Left alone, Charles knelt down before the altar, and was for some timeoccupied in fervent prayer.
BOSCOBEL HOUSE FROM THE FRONT.]