While kings and men were thus occupied with England, which governeditself quite alone, and which, it must be said in its praise, had neverbeen so badly governed, a man upon whom God had fixed his eye, andplaced his finger, a man predestined to write his name in brilliantletters upon the page of history, was pursuing in the face of the worlda work full of mystery and audacity. He went on, and no one knew whitherhe meant to go, although not only England, but France, and Europe,watched him marching with a firm step and head held high. All that wasknown of this man we are about to tell.
Monk had just declared himself in favor of the liberty of the RumpParliament, a parliament which General Lambert, imitating Cromwell,whose lieutenant he had been, had just blocked up so closely, in orderto bring it to his will, that no member, during all the blockade, wasable to go out, and only one, Peter Wentworth, had been able to get in.
Lambert and Monk--everything was summed up in these two men; the firstrepresenting military despotism, the second pure republicanism. Thesemen were the two sole political representatives of that revolution inwhich Charles I. had first lost his crown, and afterwards his head. Asregarded Lambert, he did not dissemble his views; he sought to establisha military government, and to be himself the head of that government.
Monk, a rigid republican, some said, wished to maintain the RumpParliament, that visible though degenerated representative of therepublic. Monk, artful and ambitious, said others, wished simply to makeof this parliament, which he affected to protect, a solid step by whichto mount the throne which Cromwell had left empty, but upon which he hadnever dared to take his seat.
Thus Lambert by persecuting the parliament, and Monk by declaring forit, had mutually proclaimed themselves enemies of each other. Monk andLambert, therefore, had at first thought of creating an army eachfor himself: Monk in Scotland, where were the Presbyterians and theroyalists, that is to say, the malcontents; Lambert in London, where wasfound, as is always the case, the strongest opposition to the existingpower which it had beneath its eyes.
Monk had pacified Scotland, he had there formed for himself an army, andfound an asylum. The one watched the other. Monk knew that the day wasnot yet come, the day marked by the Lord for a great change; his sword,therefore, appeared glued to the sheath. Inexpugnable, in his wild andmountainous Scotland, an absolute general, king of an army of eleventhousand old soldiers, whom he had more than once led on to victory; aswell informed, nay, even better, of the affairs of London, than Lambert,who held garrison in the city,--such was the position of Monk, when, ata hundred leagues from London, he declared himself for the parliament.Lambert, on the contrary, as we have said, lived in the capital. Thatwas the center of all his operations, and he there collected aroundhim all his friends, and all the people of the lower class, eternallyinclined to cherish the enemies of constituted power.
It was then in London that Lambert learnt the support that, from thefrontiers of Scotland, Monk lent to the parliament. He judged there wasno time to be lost, and that the Tweed was not so far distant fromthe Thames that an army could not march from one river to the other,particularly when it was well commanded. He knew, besides, that as fastas the soldiers of Monk penetrated into England, they would form ontheir route that ball of snow, the emblem of the globe of fortune, whichis for the ambitious nothing but a step growing unceasingly higherto conduct him to his object. He got together, therefore, his army,formidable at the same time for its composition and its numbers, andhastened to meet Monk, who, on his part, like a prudent navigatorsailing amidst rocks, advanced by very short marches, listening to thereports and scenting the air which came from London.
The two armies came in sight of each other near Newcastle, Lambert,arriving first, encamped in the city itself. Monk, always circumspect,stopped where he was, and placed his general quarters at Coldstream, onthe Tweed. The sight of Lambert spread joy through Monk's army, whilst,on the contrary, the sight of Monk threw disorder into Lambert's army.It might have been thought that these intrepid warriors, who had madesuch a noise in the streets of London, had set out with the hopes ofmeeting no one, and that now seeing that they had met an army, and thatthat army hoisted before them not only a standard, but still further, acause and a principle,--it might have been believed, we say, thatthese intrepid warriors had begun to reflect, that they were less goodrepublicans than the soldiers of Monk, since the latter supported theparliament; whilst Lambert supported nothing, not even himself.
As to Monk, if he had had to reflect, or if he did reflect, it must havebeen after a sad fashion, for history relates--and that modest dame, itis well known, never lies--history relates, that the day of his arrivalat Coldstream search was made in vain throughout the place for a singlesheep.
If Monk had commanded an English army, that was enough to have broughtabout a general desertion. But it is not with the Scotch as it iswith the English, to whom that fluid flesh which is called blood isa paramount necessity; the Scotch, a poor and sober race, live upon alittle barley crushed between two stones, diluted with the water of thefountain, and cooked upon another stone, heated.
The Scotch, their distribution of barley being made, cared very littlewhether there was or was not any meat in Coldstream. Monk, littleaccustomed to barley-cakes, was hungry, and his staff, at least ashungry as himself, looked with anxiety right and left, to know what wasbeing prepared for supper.
Monk ordered search to be made; his scouts had on arriving in the placefound it deserted and the cupboards empty; upon butchers and bakers itwas of no use depending in Coldstream. The smallest morsel of bread,then, could not be found for the general's table.
As accounts succeeded each other, all equally unsatisfactory, Monk,seeing terror and discouragement upon every face, declared that he wasnot hungry; besides they should eat on the morrow, since Lambert wasthere probably with the intention of giving battle, and consequentlywould give up his provisions, if he were forced from Newcastle, orforever to relieve Monk's soldiers from hunger if he conquered.
This consolation was only efficacious upon a very small number; but ofwhat importance was it to Monk? for Monk was very absolute, under theappearance of the most perfect mildness. Every one, therefore, wasobliged to be satisfied, or at least to appear so. Monk quite as hungryas his people, but affecting perfect indifference for the absent mutton,cut a fragment of tobacco, half an inch long, from the carotte of asergeant who formed part of his suite, and began to masticate the saidfragment, assuring his lieutenants that hunger was a chimera, and that,besides, people were never hungry when they had anything to chew.
This joke satisfied some of those who had resisted Monk's firstdeduction drawn from the neighborhood of Lambert's army; the number ofthe dissentients diminished greatly; the guard took their posts, thepatrols began, and the general continued his frugal repast beneath hisopen tent.
Between his camp and that of the enemy stood an old abbey, of which,at the present day, there only remain some ruins, but which then wasin existence, and was called Newcastle Abbey. It was built upon a vastsite, independent at once of the plain and of the river, because it wasalmost a marsh fed by springs and kept up by rains. Nevertheless, inthe midst of these pools of water, covered with long grass, rushes,and reeds, were seen solid spots of ground, formerly used as thekitchen-garden, the park, the pleasure-gardens, and other dependenciesof the abbey, looking like one of those great sea-spiders, whose body isround, whilst the claws go diverging round from this circumference.
The kitchen-garden, one of the longest claws of the abbey, extended toMonk's camp. Unfortunately it was, as we have said, early in June, andthe kitchen-garden, being abandoned, offered no resources.
Monk had ordered this spot to be guarded, as most subject to surprises.The fires of the enemy's general were plainly to be perceived on theother side of the abbey. But between these fires and the abbey extendedthe Tweed, unfolding its luminous scales beneath the thick shade oftall green oaks. Monk was perfectly well acquainted with this position,Newcastle and its environs having al
ready more than once been hisheadquarters. He knew that by day his enemy might without doubt throw afew scouts into these ruins and promote a skirmish, but that by night hewould take care to abstain from such a risk. He felt himself, therefore,in security.
Thus his soldiers saw him, after what he boastingly called hissupper--that is to say, after the exercise of mastication reported byus at the commencement of this chapter--like Napoleon on the eve ofAusterlitz, seated asleep in his rush chair, half beneath the light ofhis lamp, half beneath the reflection of the moon, commencing its ascentin the heavens, which denoted that it was nearly half past nine in theevening. All at once Monk was roused from his half sleep, fictitiousperhaps, by a troop of soldiers, who came with joyous cries, and kickedthe poles of his tent with a humming noise as if on purpose to wake him.There was no need of so much noise; the general opened his eyes quickly.
"Well, my children, what is going on now?" asked the general.
"General!" replied several voices at once, "General! you shall have somesupper."
"I have had my supper, gentlemen," replied he, quietly, "and wascomfortably digesting it, as you see. But come in, and tell me whatbrings you hither."
"Good news, general."
"Bah! Has Lambert sent us word that he will fight to-morrow?"
"No, but we have just captured a fishing-boat conveying fish toNewcastle."
"And you have done very wrong, my friends. These gentlemen from Londonare delicate, must have their first course; you will put them sadly outof humor this evening, and to-morrow they will be pitiless. It wouldreally be in good taste to send back to Lambert both his fish and hisfishermen, unless----" and the general reflected an instant.
"Tell me," continued he, "what are these fishermen, if you please?"
"Some Picard seamen who were fishing on the coasts of France or Holland,and who have been thrown upon ours by a gale of wind."
"Do any among them speak our language?"
"The leader spoke some few words of English."
The mistrust of the general was awakened in proportion as freshinformation reached him. "That is well," said he. "I wish to see thesemen, bring them to me."
An officer immediately went to fetch them.
"How many are there of them?" continued Monk; "and what is theirvessel?"
"There are ten or twelve of them, general, and they were aboard of akind of chasse-maree, as it is called--Dutch-built, apparently."
"And you say they were carrying fish to Lambert's camp?"
"Yes, general, and they seem to have had good luck in their fishing."
"Humph! we shall see that," said Monk.
At this moment the officer returned, bringing the leader of thefishermen with him. He was a man from fifty to fifty-five years old,but good-looking for his age. He was of middle height, and wore ajustaucorps of coarse wool, a cap pulled down over his eyes, a cutlasshung from his belt, and he walked with the hesitation peculiar tosailors, who, never knowing, thanks to the movement of the vessel,whether their foot will be placed upon the plank or upon nothing, giveto every one of their steps a fall as firm as if they were driving apile. Monk, with an acute and penetrating look, examined the fishermanfor some time, while the latter smiled, with that smile half cunning,half silly, peculiar to French peasants.
"Do you speak English?" asked Monk, in excellent French.
"Ah! but badly, my lord," replied the fisherman.
This reply was made much more with the lively and sharp accentuation ofthe people beyond the Loire, than with the slightly-drawling accent ofthe countries of the west and north of France.
"But you do speak it?" persisted Monk, in order to examine his accentonce more.
"Eh! we men of the sea," replied the fisherman, "speak a little of alllanguages."
"Then you are a sea fisherman?"
"I am at present, my lord--a fisherman, and a famous fisherman too. Ihave taken a barbel that weighs at least thirty pounds, and morethan fifty mullets; I have also some little whitings that will frybeautifully."
"You appear to me to have fished more frequently in the Gulf of Gasconythan in the Channel," said Monk, smiling.
"Well, I am from the south; but does that prevent me from being a goodfisherman, my lord?"
"Oh! not at all; I shall buy your fish. And now speak frankly; for whomdid you destine them?"
"My lord, I will conceal nothing from you. I was going to Newcastle,following the coast, when a party of horsemen who were passing alongin an opposite direction made a sign to my bark to turn back to yourhonor's camp, under penalty of a discharge of musketry. As I was notarmed for fighting," added the fisherman, smiling, "I was forced tosubmit."
"And why did you go to Lambert's camp in preference to mine?"
"My lord, I will be frank; will your lordship permit me?"
"Yes, and even if need be shall command you to be so."
"Well, my lord, I was going to M. Lambert's camp because those gentlemenfrom the city pay well--whilst your Scotchmen, Puritans, Presbyterians,Covenanters, or whatever you choose to call them, eat but little, andpay for nothing."
Monk shrugged his shoulders, without, however, being able to refrainfrom smiling at the same time. "How is it that, being from the south,you come to fish on our coasts?"
"Because I have been fool enough to marry in Picardy."
"Yes; but even Picardy is not England."
"My lord, man shoves his boat into the sea, but God and the wind do therest, and drive the boat where they please."
"You had, then, no intention of landing on our coasts?"
"Never."
"And what route were you steering?"
"We were returning from Ostend, where some mackerel had already beenseen, when a sharp wind from the south drove us from our course; then,seeing that it was useless to struggle against it, we let it drive us.It then became necessary, not to lose our fish, which were good, to goand sell them at the nearest English port, and that was Newcastle.We were told the opportunity was good, as there was an increase ofpopulation in the camp, an increase of population in the city; both,we were told, were full of gentlemen, very rich and very hungry. So westeered our course towards Newcastle."
"And your companions, where are they?"
"Oh, my companions have remained on board; they are sailors without theleast instruction."
"Whilst you----" said Monk.
"Who, I?" said the patron, laughing; "I have sailed about with myfather, and I know what is called a sou, a crown, a pistole, a louis,and a double louis, in all the languages of Europe; my crew, therefore,listen to me as they would to an oracle, and obey me as if I were anadmiral."
"Then it was you who preferred M. Lambert as the best customer?"
"Yes, certainly. And, to be frank, my lord, was I wrong?"
"You will see that by and by."
"At all events, my lord, if there is a fault, the fault is mine; and mycomrades should not be dealt hardly with on that account."
"This is decidedly an intelligent, sharp fellow," thought Monk.Then, after a few minutes, silence employed in scrutinizing thefisherman,--"You come from Ostend, did you not say?" asked the general.
"Yes, my lord, in a straight line."
"You have then heard of the affairs of the day; for I have no doubt thatboth in France and Holland they excite interest. What is he doing whocalls himself king of England?"
"Oh, my lord!" cried the fisherman, with loud and expansive frankness,"that is a lucky question, and you could not put it to anybody betterthan to me, for in truth I can make you a famous reply. Imagine, mylord, that when putting into Ostend to sell the few mackerel we hadcaught, I saw the ex-king walking on the downs waiting for his horses,which were to take him to the Hague. He is a rather tall, pale man, withblack hair, and somewhat hard-featured. He looks ill, and I don't thinkthe air of Holland agrees with him."
Monk followed with the greatest attention the rapid, heightened, anddiffuse conversation of the fisherman, in a language which was nothis own, but wh
ich, as we have said, he spoke with great facility. Thefisherman on his part, employed sometimes a French word, sometimes anEnglish word, and sometimes a word which appeared not to belong to anylanguage, but was, in truth, pure Gascon. Fortunately his eyes spoke forhim, and that so eloquently, that it was possible to lose a wordfrom his mouth, but not a single intention from his eyes. The generalappeared more and more satisfied with his examination. "You must haveheard that this ex-king, as you call him, was going to the Hague forsome purpose?"
"Oh, yes," said the fisherman, "I heard that."
"And what was his purpose?"
"Always the same," said the fisherman. "Must he not always entertain thefixed idea of returning to England?"
"That is true," said Monk, pensively.
"Without reckoning," added the fisherman, "that the stadtholder--youknow, my lord, William II.?"
"Well?"
"He will assist him with all his power."
"Ah! did you hear that said?"
"No, but I think so."
"You are quite a politician, apparently," said Monk.
"Why, we sailors, my lord, who are accustomed to study the water and theair--that is to say, the two most changeable things in the world--areseldom deceived as to the rest."
"Now, then," said Monk, changing the conversation, "I am told you aregoing to provision us."
"I shall do my best, my lord."
"How much do you ask for your fish in the first place?"
"Not such a fool as to name a price, my lord."
"Why not?"
"Because my fish is yours."
"By what right?"
"By that of the strongest."
"But my intention is to pay you for it."
"That is very generous of you, my lord."
"And the worth of it----"
"My lord, I fix no price."
"What do you ask, then?"
"I only ask to be permitted to go away."
"Where?--to General Lambert's camp?"
"I!" cried the fisherman; "what should I go to Newcastle for, now I haveno longer any fish?"
"At all events, listen to me."
"I do, my lord."
"I shall give you some advice."
"How, my lord!--pay me and give me good advice likewise! You overwhelmme, my lord."
Monk looked more earnestly than ever at the fisherman, about whom hestill appeared to entertain some suspicion. "Yes, I shall pay you, andgive you a piece of advice, for the two things are connected. If youreturn, then, to General Lambert----"
The fisherman made a movement of his head and shoulders, whichsignified, "If he persists in it, I won't contradict him."
"Do not cross the marsh," continued Monk: "you will have money in yourpocket, and there are in the marsh some Scotch ambuscaders I have placedthere. Those people are very intractable; they understand but verylittle of the language which you speak, although it appears to me to becomposed of three languages. They might take from you what I had givenyou, and, on your return to your country, you would not fail to say thatGeneral Monk has two hands, the one Scotch, and the other English;and that he takes back with the Scotch hand what he has given with theEnglish hand."
"Oh! general, I shall go where you like, be sure of that," said thefisherman, with a fear too expressive not to be exaggerated. "I onlywish to remain here, if you will allow me to remain."
"I readily believe you," said Monk, with an imperceptible smile, "but Icannot, nevertheless, keep you in my tent."
"I have no such wish, my lord, and desire only that your lordship shouldpoint out where you will have me posted. Do not trouble yourself aboutus--with us a night soon passes away."
"You shall be conducted to your bark."
"As your lordship pleases. Only, if your lordship would allow me to betaken back by a carpenter, I should be extremely grateful."
"Why so?"
"Because the gentlemen of your army, in dragging my boat up the riverwith a cable pulled by their horses, have battered it a little uponthe rocks of the shore, so that I have at least two feet of water in myhold, my lord."
"The greater reason why you should watch your boat, I think."
"My lord, I am quite at your orders," said the fisherman; "I shall emptymy baskets where you wish; then you will pay me, if you please to do so;and you will send me away, if it appears right to you. You see I am veryeasily managed and pleased, my lord."
"Come, come, you are a very good sort of a fellow," said Monk, whosescrutinizing glance had not been able to find a single shade in theclear eye of the fisherman. "Holloa, Digby!" An aide-de-camp appeared."You will conduct this good fellow and his companions to the littletents of the canteens, in front of the marshes, so that they will benear their bark, and yet will not sleep on board to-night. What is thematter, Spithead?"
Spithead was the sergeant from whom Monk had borrowed a piece of tobaccofor his supper. Spithead, having entered the general's tent withoutbeing sent for, had drawn this question from Monk.
"My lord," said he, "a French gentleman has just presented himself atthe outposts and wishes to speak to your honor."
All this was said, be it understood, in English; but notwithstanding,it produced a slight emotion in the fisherman, which Monk, occupied withhis sergeant, did not remark.
"Who is the gentleman?" asked Monk.
"My lord," replied Spithead, "he told it me, but those devils of Frenchnames are so difficult to pronounce for a Scotch throat, that I couldnot retain it. I believe, however, from what the guards say, that it isthe same gentleman who presented himself yesterday at the halt, and whomyour honor would not receive."
"That is true; I was holding a council of officers."
"Will your honor give any orders respecting this gentleman?"
"Yes, let him be brought here."
"Must we take any precautions?"
"Such as what?"
"Binding his eyes, for instance."
"To what purpose? He can only see what I desire should be seen; thatis to say, that I have around me eleven thousand brave men, who askno better than to have their throats cut in honor of the parliament ofScotland and England."
"And this man, my lord?" said Spithead, pointing to the fisherman, who,during this conversation, had remained standing and motionless, like aman who sees but does not understand.
"Ah, that is true," said Monk. Then turning towards the fisherman,--"Ishall see you again, my brave fellow," said he; "I have selected alodging for you. Digby, take him to it. Fear nothing: your money shallbe sent to you presently."
"Thank you, my lord," said the fisherman, and after having bowed, heleft the tent, accompanied by Digby. Before he had gone a hundred paceshe found his companions, who were whispering with a volubility which didnot appear exempt from uneasiness, but he made them a sign which seemedto reassure them. "Hola, you fellows!" said the patron, "come this way.His lordship, General Monk, has the generosity to pay us for our fish,and the goodness to give us hospitality for to-night."
The fishermen gathered round their leader, and, conducted by Digby,the little troop proceeded towards the canteens, the post, as may beremembered, which had been assigned them. As they went along in thedark, the fishermen passed close to the guards who were conducting theFrench gentleman to General Monk. This gentleman was on horseback, andenveloped in a large cloak, which prevented the patron from seeing him,however great his curiosity might be. As to the gentleman, ignorant thathe was elbowing compatriots, he did not pay any attention to the littletroop.
The aid-de-camp settled his guests in a tolerably comfortable tent,from which was dislodged an Irish canteen woman, who went, with her sixchildren, to sleep where she could. A large fire was burning in frontof this tent, and threw its purple light over the grassy pools of themarsh, rippled by a fresh breeze. The arrangements made, the aid-de-campwished the fishermen good-night, calling to their notice that they mightsee from the door of the tent the masts of their bark, which was tossinggently on the Tweed, a proof that it h
ad not yet sunk. The sight of thisappeared to delight the leader of the fishermen infinitely.
CHAPTER 24. The Treasure
Ten Years Later Page 26