The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  CHAPTER XV.

  THE PRINCE’S LEVEE.

  The room had a very brilliant appearance, being crowded with officers of high rank. In the antechamber all who desired the honour of a presentation were assembled.

  On the entrance of the prince, who proceeded towards the upper end of the room, and took up a station there, all the nobles and heads of clans formed a semicircle around him — those nearest his royal highness, on the right and left, being the Duke of Perth, the Marquis of Tullibardine, the Marquis d’Eguilles, Lords George Murray, Pitsligo, Nairne, Kilmarnock, and Balmerino.

  The first persons to approach the prince were Colonel Townley and the Chevalier de Johnstone, the latter of whom, as already stated, being aide-de-camp to Lord George Gordon.

  Colonel Townley, who was in full uniform, wore a plaid waistcoat, and a plaid sash lined with white silk. He came to inform the prince that the Manchester Regiment was now embodied, and would be paraded on the morrow.

  “The deficiency in men, of which I complained to your royal highness, has been made good by Colonel Johnstone, who has delivered over to me all the recruits raised for him in this town by Sergeant Dickson.”

  “You have done well, colonel,” remarked the prince, approvingly, to Johnstone. “How many men has Sergeant Dickson enlisted?”

  “Nearly two hundred,” was the reply. “They are all fine fellows, and will make excellent soldiers.”

  “I esteem myself singularly fortunate in obtaining them,” observed Colonel Townley. “I was almost in despair, not being able to find fifty volunteers myself.”

  “Sergeant Dickson deserves promotion,” said the prince. “I am told that he entered the town, attended only by Helen Carnegie and a drummer.”

  “It is perfectly true,” replied Johnstone. “I would not detract from the brave fellow’s merit; but without Helen he would have done nothing.”

  “Between them they have raised the Manchester Regiment,” remarked Colonel Townley, “and saved me a vast deal of trouble.”

  “Have all the officers joined?” asked the prince.

  “All,” replied Townley. “Two of them are in the ante-chamber. Captains James Dawson and Atherton Legh. May I have the honour of presenting them to your royal highness?”

  Charles Edward having graciously signified his assent, Colonel Townley bowed and retired, reappearing in another moment with the two young officers in question.

  They now wore the uniform of the regiment — red faced with white — and looked so well that Colonel Townley felt very proud of them as he led them towards the prince, by whom they were received with the utmost condescension.

  Atherton Legh’s appearance seemed particularly to please him, and at the close of the brief interview, he desired him to remain in the house, as he had some orders to give him.

  Much gratified by the command, Atherton bowed and retired with his friend.

  Several other presentations then took place, which need not be recorded, the two persons chiefly distinguished by the prince’s notice being Dr. Deacon and Dr. Byrom.

  To the latter he said many flattering things well calculated to gratify him; towards the other he adopted a more serious tone, and thanked him earnestly for the zealous attachment he had always shown to the royal cause.

  “You have proved your devotion in many ways, doctor,” he said, “but never more than in causing your three sons to enrol themselves in the Manchester Regiment. I thank you in the king my father’s name, and in my own.”

  “Heaven grant that my sons may serve your royal father well, most gracious prince!” said Dr. Deacon. “I can only aid you with my prayers.”

  Overcome by his emotion, he then bowed deeply and retired.

  At this juncture the doors of the ante-chamber were thrown open, and a bevy of ladies, all attired in white, and wearing plaid sashes, came forth, imparting a much more lively character to the scene.

  Most of these fair Jacobites were young, and many of them being exceedingly pretty, it is not wonderful that their appearance should produce an effect upon the excitable Highlanders, who did not care to conceal their admiration of the Southron beauties. Their assiduities, however, did not seem disagreeable to the Manchester damsels.

  Meantime the ladies were conducted in succession to the prince, and each had the honour of kissing his hand. Some of them received a pretty compliment into the bargain. So well turned were these compliments, and so captivating the smiles that accompanied them, that the younger damsels were quite bewitched, and declared that so charming a prince had never been seen.

  By far the prettiest of those presented was Beppy Byrom, who was quite as much influenced as any of the others by the witchery of the prince’s manner.

  As she drew near, she scarcely dared to raise her eyes towards him, but a few pleasant words soon set her at her ease, and the smile that lighted up her fair features so improved their expression that Charles was as much charmed with her as she was with him.

  After their presentation the ladies were taken to an adjoining parlour. It fell to Atherton’s lot to conduct Beppy to this room, which was crowded with fair damsels and Highland officers, laughing, chattering, and quaffing champagne. Large glasses of the same wine were offered them on their entrance, and having drunk the appointed toast with enthusiasm, they seated themselves on a sofa.

  Whether the excitement of the occasion gave unwonted lustre to Beppy’s eyes, we know not, but it is certain that Atherton felt their force more than he had ever done before.

  “I wonder whether you will return to Manchester when the campaign is over, Captain Legh?” she inquired, looking rather languishingly at him as she spoke.

  “Does Miss Byrom care to see me again?” he asked. “If so, I shall make a point of coming back, supposing I am able to do so.”

  “You pay me a great compliment,” she remarked. “But surely, I am not the only person you desire to see again? You must have many dear friends?”

  “I have none,” he replied, rather gloomily. “You know I am quite alone in the world. If I fall in this expedition, not a tear will be shed for me.”

  “There you are mistaken,” she rejoined, in a sympathetic tone. “But you speak rather bitterly. I fear you have been badly treated.”

  “No, I have no right to complain. I am only paying the penalty of my folly. I have been deluded by false hopes; but I shall try to act more sensibly in future.”

  “An excellent resolution, and I trust you will keep to it. Never fall in love again — if you can help it. That’s my advice.”

  “But you don’t expect me to follow it?”

  “I have no influence over you, and cannot therefore expect you to be guided by my counsels. But I repeat — don’t fall in love again.”

  “The warning comes too late,” he said. “I must make a desperate effort, or I shall be caught in fresh toils.”

  “Well, the effort can be easily made, since you are going away.”

  “But I shall carry the remembrance with me. I shall not forget our present conversation, and if I return I will remind you of it.”

  “I have very little faith in the promise. By that time you will probably have changed your mind.”

  “You must entertain a very poor opinion of me, Miss Byrom, if you really think so.”

  “I don’t imagine you differ from the rest of your sex. Men are proverbially inconstant. ‘Out of sight, out of mind,’ you know.”

  “On my return you will find me unchanged,” he said.

  So engrossed was Atherton by the young lady near him, that he had not noticed the entrance of Constance, with Jemmy Dawson and Monica. But chancing to look up at the moment, he perceived her standing at a little distance, with her large eyes fixed upon him. The expression of her countenance showed that she had overheard what had passed between him and Miss Byrom. With a disdainful glance, she moved away with her father.

  Atherton was quite confounded, and for a moment could not speak, but at length he stammered:

 
“Do you see who is in the room?”

  “Miss Rawcliffe you mean,” replied Beppy. “Yes, I saw her come in. I did not tell you, because I fancied you had no longer any interest in her. But I begin to think you have not so completely shaken off your fetters as you imagined. If all is at an end, why should her presence trouble you?”

  “I am not quite master of my feelings,” he rejoined.

  “So I perceive,” said Beppy. She then added, in a good-natured tone: “Well, we have stayed here long enough. Let us go.”

  Much relieved by the proposal, the young man instantly arose, and offering her his arm, prepared to quit the room.

  But, in making their way through the crowd, they were soon brought to a stand-still, and found themselves face to face with Constance.

  By this time Atherton had recovered his self-possession, and bowed coldly, and his salutation was as distantly returned. Beppy, however, who had some little malice in her composition, rather enjoyed the situation, and not feeling inclined to put an end to it, immediately engaged Miss Rawcliffe in conversation, and left Atherton to Monica and Jemmy Dawson.

  Fain would he have escaped, but he could not leave Beppy, who, indeed, did not relinquish her hold of his arm. Luckily, champagne was brought by the attendants, and everybody took a glass, as in duty bound.

  Again the prince’s health was drunk, and with as much enthusiasm as before, though Beppy only placed the glass to her lips.

  “You have not done justice to the toast, Miss Byrom,” cried a voice near her.

  And turning, she perceived Colonel Townley, who had just entered the room with her father.

  “I have already drunk it,” she replied. “But I have wine enough left to drink ‘Success to the Manchester Regiment,’ and I do so.”

  And she again raised the glass to her lips.

  Colonel Townley bowed, and expressed his thanks.

  “More champagne,” he cried to the attendants. “Gentlemen,” he added, to his officers, “let us drink to Miss Rawcliffe and the ladies who have helped to raise the regiment.”

  Due honour was done to the toast. As Atherton bowed to Constance, she regarded him coldly, and scarcely acknowledged the attention.

  “Something is wrong,” thought Colonel Townley. “I must endeavour to set it right. You will be pleased to hear, Miss Rawcliffe,” he said, “that his royal highness fully appreciates the service you have rendered him. I took care to tell him the Manchester Regiment owed Captain Legh to you.”

  “The circumstance was scarcely worth mentioning,” she rejoined, with affected indifference.

  “The prince thought otherwise,” remarked Colonel Townley. “I will not repeat the flattering things he said — —”

  “Oh, pray do not!” she interrupted. “I would rather not hear them.”

  “But they relate chiefly to Captain Legh.”

  “Then keep them for his private ear,” she rejoined.

  The colonel shrugged his shoulders and said no more.

  Just then the pipers stationed in the court began to play, and as the hall-door stood open, the lively strains resounded through the house, and made the Highland officers eager for a dance.

  They began to talk about Scotch reels and other national dances, of which the young ladies had never heard, but they did not venture to propose any such agreeable exercise, as it would have been contrary to etiquette.

  The pipers, in fact, had been ordered to play as an intimation to the assemblage that the prince’s levée was over, and as soon as this was understood the company began to depart.

  Colonel Townley offered his arm to Constance, and conducted her to the entrance-hall, where they found Sir Richard Rawcliffe, Dr. Byrom, and several other gentlemen who were waiting for their wives and daughters.

  As soon as the young ladies had been consigned to their natural protectors, Colonel Townley turned to Atherton, and said:

  “You will return at eight o’clock to-night, Captain Legh. You are bidden to the supper by the prince. I was specially commanded to bring you. His royal highness seems to have taken a fancy to you. But tell me! — what is the cause of the misunderstanding between you and Miss Rawcliffe?”

  “I know not,” replied Atherton. “But she looks coldly upon me — and her father has treated me with great rudeness.”

  “Indeed!” exclaimed Colonel Townley. “I will have an explanation from him. Remember that the regiment will be paraded in St. Ann’s Square at ten o’clock to-morrow.”

  They then separated, and Atherton quitted the house.

  The court was filled by the Highland body-guard and the pipers. The latter, drawn up in two lines, through which the company passed, were making a prodigious din, greatly to the delight of the crowd collected in the street.

  CHAPTER XVI.

  THE ILLUMINATIONS.

  The town now presented a most extraordinary appearance, and looked as if occupied by a hostile army — the streets being filled with Highland soldiers, who were wandering about, staring at the houses and shops, and besieging the taverns.

  The townspeople seemed on very good terms with their visitors, and the occupants of the houses at which the soldiers were billeted received them as well as could be expected.

  By this time all the principal personages connected with the Highland army had taken possession of the quarters assigned them, and sentries were placed at the doorways or at the gates.

  Large bonfires were lighted in various parts of the town — in the market-place, in Spring Fields, on Shude Hill, on Hunt’s Bank, and at the foot of the bridge, and preparations were made for a general illumination at night.

  Nothing was neglected by the magistrates. In obedience to the injunctions they had received from Mr. Murray, they attended at the Town Cross to assist at the proclamation of his Majesty King James the Third. A large concourse assembled to witness the ceremony, and shouted lustily at its conclusion.

  As yet, no disturbance whatever had occurred — for the Whigs and Presbyterians consulted their own safety by remaining quiet, well knowing if they made a demonstration they would be quickly overpowered. Consequently, the town continued tranquil.

  As soon as it became dusk, the illuminations commenced. They were general, for no one dared to disobey the order, and the obnoxious Whigs and Presbyterians burnt more candles than their Jacobite neighbours. But the display did not save their windows. A large mob armed with bludgeons went about the town shouting, “Long live King James the Third, and Charles, Prince Regent!” and when they came to a house the owner of which was offensive to them, a great smashing of glass took place.

  No efforts were made to check these lawless proceedings. Every license was allowed the mob, so long as they confined their playful attentions to the opposite party. For the sufferers there was no redress, since the streets swarmed with Highland soldiers who enjoyed the sport.

  Additional excitement was given by the pipers, who marched about playing loudly upon their shrill instruments. What with the bonfires, the illuminations, the uproarious crowd, the Highlanders, and the pipers, the ordinary aspect of the town seemed entirely changed.

  The spectacle was so novel and curious, that many of the gentler sex came forth to witness it, and it must be said, to the credit of the crowd, that the ladies experienced no sort of annoyance.

  Luckily the night was fine, though sufficiently dark to give full effect to the illuminations.

  Beppy and her father, accompanied by Atherton, walked about for nearly two hours, and Miss Byrom declared it was the prettiest sight she ever beheld. She had seen an illumination before, but never on so grand a scale, while the strange accompaniments greatly amused her.

  Oddly enough, the illuminations in the old parts of the town were more effective than in the modern streets. With their lattice windows lighted up, the ancient habitations looked exceedingly picturesque.

  But by far the most striking object in the town was the collegiate church. Partly buried in gloom — partly revealed by the bonfires kindled
in its vicinity, the flames of which were reflected upon its massive tower, battlements, and buttresses — the venerable pile was seen to the greatest advantage. Very few, however, except the persons we have mentioned, cared to gaze at it. Those who crossed the churchyard made the best of their way to the streets, to see the illuminations and mingle with the crowd.

  After bidding good-night to his friends, Atherton repaired to the only house in Manchester which was not illuminated.

  But though the prince’s residence was not lighted up, abundant evidence was furnished that a grand entertainment was about to take place inside it. The Highland guard was drawn up in two lines, extending from the gate to the doorway, and through this avenue all the nobles, chiefs of clans, and officers who were invited to sup with the prince, made their way into the house.

  Some of them arrived in sedan-chairs, but the majority came on foot, since no coaches could be procured. But however they came, their appearance was greeted with cheers by the concourse collected in front of the mansion, and many an eye followed them as the door was flung open to give them admittance.

  Naturally, Atherton felt elated on finding himself among so important an assemblage; but a great distinction was reserved for him.

  It chanced that the prince was in the hall as he entered, and on seeing him, his royal highness addressed him with the most gracious familiarity, and taking him apart, said:

  “Captain Legh, I am going round the town after supper, and I mean to take you with me.”

  Atherton bowed.

  “I am told the illuminations are very good, and I want to see them. But I do not desire to be recognised, and I shall therefore take no other attendant except yourself.”

  Again Atherton bowed deeply — his looks expressing his gratification.

  “Do not mention my purpose,” continued the prince, “as I would not have it known. Some of my immediate attendants would insist on accompanying me, and I would rather be without them. In a word, I wish to be incognito, like the Caliph Haroun Al Raschid.”