In less than half an hour the plain was completely cleared of all but the confederate forces and their prisoners. Several horses belonging to the militia were taken, a few swords and pistols, and a vast number of pitchforks.
When the prisoners, who amounted to three or four hundred, were brought before General Forster, he upbraided them — though in a good-humoured manner — with their folly in opposing their friends, saying they — the so-called rebels — were come to deliver them from a tyrannical usurper, and restore their lawful king to the throne.
“To prove that we mean you no harm,” he said, “not one of you has been injured — not a single man has been killed in the conflict. Had we caught Lord Lonsdale, or the Bishop of Carlisle, who ought not to have appeared on a field of battle, or Sir Christopher Musgrave, we might have made each of them pay a heavy ransom; but we shall deal differently with you. You are free. Return quietly to your homes. Take back your implements of husbandry, and employ them to a better purpose in future.”
This speech produced a very good effect on the countrymen to whom it was addressed. They huzzaed loudly, and shouted:
“God save King James the Third, and prosper his merciful army!”
Their pitchforks were then given back to them, and they departed, rejoicing.
Three parties of horse were next sent off in different directions.
The first was commanded by Colonel Oxburgh, whose orders were to proceed to Lowther Castle, which was not more than three or four miles distant, and search for his lordship, and take him prisoner.
The second party, commanded by Captain Wogan, attended by the Reverend Mr. Patten, who was acquainted with the country, had orders to proceed to Rose Castle, the residence of the Bishop of Carlisle, and arrest him.
The third party was commanded by Captain Gordon, who had displayed extraordinary zeal of late, and had risen greatly in favour with General Forster and Lord Derwentwater. Captain Gordon’s orders were to proceed to Edenhall, and make Sir Christopher Musgrave prisoner. He was also to bring away any arms he might find at the hall.
Charged with these orders the three officers in question immediately rode off.
Elated by their success, the insurgents marched on to Penrith, and entered the town with colours flying, drums beating, bagpipes playing.
CHAPTER II
Madam Bellingham
THE news of their victory had preceded them, and disposed the inhabitants — many of whom were Jacobites — to receive them cordially. Even by the leading men of the opposite party the greatest civility was shown them.
In anticipation of the defeat of the rebels, a plentiful supper had been provided at the principal inn for the Bishop of Carlisle, Lord Lonsdale, Sir Christopher Musgrave, and their chief followers.
To this supper General Forster and the whole of the insurgent leaders — except those absent on duty — sat down; and as circumstances gave peculiar zest to the entertainment, they passed the merriest evening they had done for some time.
The party sat late, and had not broken up when Colonel Oxburgh and the two other officers returned. Some arms were brought from Lowther Castle and Edenhall — but no prisoners. Lord Lowther, it appeared, had fled to Yorkshire. What had become of the Bishop of Carlisle and Sir Christopher Musgrave could not be ascertained.
General Forster was greatly disappointed, as he felt that the capture of three such important personages — or even one of them — would have given him great credit. However, he was fain to be content with the success he had achieved.
Next day, the general performed an act that raised him considerably in the estimation of the inhabitants. Having found out that some High Church Tories belonging to his own division intended to pull down, or burn a Presbyterian meeting-house in the town, he peremptorily forbade them, declaring he would punish any who disobeyed his orders.
“I will never sanction religious outrages,” he said. “We must show the country that all sects can live tranquilly together. My maxim is toleration. Though I differ with the Presbyterians, I will, on no account, allow them to be molested.”
This expression, which was repeated, did him great service.
During their stay in Penrith, the insurgents were very well treated, and made many friends. They expected to be joined by several important Roman Catholics — Mr. Howard of Corby Castle, Mr. Warwick of Warwick Hall, Mr. Henry Curwen of Workington, and Sir James Graham of Inchbrachy — but learnt to their dismay that they had all been arrested by the Governor of Carlisle, and secured in the castle. Before quitting Penrith, they collected five hundred pounds.
At the charming town of Appleby, always noted for its loyalty, they were very well received, and took possession of the church and castle.
General Forster immediately caused James the Third to be proclaimed, and so much enthusiasm was manifested that it might have been thought that the inhabitants were all devoted to the Stuarts.
Gratified by their reception, and delighted by the beauty of the town, the insurgents passed their time very pleasantly, and were reluctant to proceed on their march.
At Appleby, Mr. Wyburgh, captain of the train-bands, was taken prisoner, and Lord Nairn, a relation of Sir James Graham, wished to effect an exchange, but the Governor of Carlisle would not listen to the proposal.
Several persons, suspected of being spies, were seized and detained, and an impracticable officer was confined in the Moot Hall till he confessed where the excise money was lodged.
Their next march was to Kendal, where General Forster was quartered at the house of Alderman Simpson, in Strickland Gate. It chanced that his godmother, Mrs. Bellingham, was staying there at the time, and hearing this the general desired to pay his respects to her, but she refused to see him. However, as he was going up-stairs to his room, she rushed forth, and met him on the landing. Alarmed by the furious expression of her countenance, Forster would have turned back, but she commanded him to stay.
Thinking to deprecate her wrath, the general expressed his great pleasure at seeing her, and hoped she was quite well.
“Quite well!” she cried. “How can I be well when I’m driven almost out of my senses by your shameful proceedings. Oh! Tom, Tom! never did I think you would serve the Pretender!”
“I serve King James the Third, madam,” he replied. “And however disagreeable it may be to you to hear it, I must say that I look upon the Elector of Hanover as a usurper, and I shall do my best to drive him from the kingdom.”
“You may try, but you’ll never succeed,” cried Mrs. Bellingham, becoming still more exasperated. “Now, I’ll tell you what you’ve lost by your folly. I meant to leave you all my fortune; but you shan’t have a penny. I’ll leave it all to Dorothy.”
“I’m sorry to have offended you, madam, but it can’t be helped. I scarcely think you can have heard of our great success at Penrith Fells, or you wouldn’t speak so disparagingly of us.”
“I’ve heard that you dispersed an army of peasants,” she rejoined, contemptuously. “But when you face a regular army, the result will be very different.”
“You are mistaken, madam,” he rejoined, beginning to feel angry himself, for he saw Lord Derwentwater, Lord Widdrington, and Colonel Oxburgh at the foot of the stairs, and felt sure they must be laughing at him. “Before a month we shall be in London.”
“Yes,” she replied; “but you will be a prisoner. You and the rebel lords will be safely lodged in the Tower, and if you come out, it will only be to have your heads cut off. And you will richly deserve your fate.”
A good word may be said for the Highlanders. It was reported that the muskets of the militia were concealed in the church, and a party of these brave fellows went in search of them. They discovered no arms, but they found the plate in the vestry, and left it untouched.
Next day, being Sunday, the insurgents marched early to Kirkby-Lonsdale. Service was performed at the church in the afternoon by the Reverend Mr. Patten, and as Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington were standing in the ch
urchyard contemplating the beautiful view it commands of the valley of the Lune, they were surprised by the unexpected appearance of Lord Widdrington’s brother, who had just returned from Lancaster, whither he had been sent to prepare the inhabitants for the approach of the insurgent force.
Charles Widdrington’s report was that there was a strong feeling in their favour, and that they would certainly be joined by many gentlemen of the county. Moreover, he brought a letter to Lord Widdrington from Mr. Charles Beswicke, of Manchester, in which the writer mentioned that King James the Third had just been proclaimed in that town, and a troop of fifty men raised and armed. Mr. Beswicke hoped to join the insurgent army with some volunteers at Lancaster.
This satisfactory intelligence was immediately communicated to the other chiefs and officers, and greatly raised their spirits.
Before leaving Kirkby-Lonsdale, they were joined by an important Roman Catholic gentleman, Mr. Carus, of Halton Hall, and his two sons, who were appointed officers in Lord Derwentwater’s troop.
CHAPTER III
Hornby Castle
WHILE the rest of the force proceeded to Lancaster, shaping their course along the lovely valley of the Lune, and keeping near the banks of the river, Colonel Oxburgh, with a party of horse, composed entirely of gentlemen, went to Hornby Castle for the purpose of arresting its owner, Colonel Charteris, and taking him a prisoner to Lancaster.
Colonel Charteris, condemned to deathless infamy by Hogarth, belonged to a Scotch family, and had rendered himself so odious to his countrymen by his vices, that, if the Highlanders had been allowed to visit Hornby Castle, they would undoubtedly have burnt it to the ground, and have shot its owner if they had caught him.
A profligate debauchee of the worst kind, Colonel Charteris was also one of the meanest of men, and cunning as mean. But he was very rich, and about two years prior to the date of our story, he had purchased Hornby Castle, where he now dwelt, from the Earl of Cardigan, for fifteen thousand pounds. He had made some alterations — but not improvements — in the place, and had disfigured the old keep by rearing a watch-tower on its summit, above which he fixed a great gilt eagle.
From its bold position on a craggy hill, the sides of which were clothed with timber, while its base was washed by the river Wenning, Hornby Castle, before its partial demolition in the Civil Wars, must have presented a very striking appearance.
The ancient part of the structure was now in ruins — all that remained of it being a few picturesque walls overgrown with ivy, and the great square tower, to which allusion has just been made.
Adjoining these ruins, and to a certain degree combined with them, was a large modern stone mansion, in front of which a steep lawn descended, between avenues of timber, to the park at the foot of the hill.
No information respecting Colonel Charteris could be obtained at the pretty little village of Hornby. The inhabitants could not, or would not, tell whether he was at the castle. It was, therefore, in a state of the utmost uncertainty that Colonel Oxburgh and his troop mounted the steep ascent. The probability, indeed, seemed that a person so cautious as Colonel Charteris would have decamped on hearing that the insurgents were close at hand.
On approaching the castle, which he thought much too good for its unworthy owner, Colonel Oxburgh rode up to the principal entrance and caused the bell to be loudly rung. Hitherto, no servants had appeared from whom inquiries could be made, and it would almost seem that the place was deserted. The summons, however, was promptly answered by a porter, who stated that his master had gone to Lancaster.
“Who is in the castle, then?” demanded Colonel Oxburgh. “Take care you don’t deceive me, fellow.”
“Only Mr. Bancroft, the steward, and two old women,” replied the porter. “Colonel Charteris has taken all the rest of the servants with him to Lancaster. But here comes Mr. Bancroft.”
As he spoke, a singular-looking individual made his appearance, and descending the steps respectfully saluted the insurgent leader.
Mr. Bancroft was an elderly man, rather high-shouldered, and clad in an old- fashioned, snuff-coloured suit. He wore what was then called a night-cap wig, and on his large and prominent nose rested a pair of green spectacles, through which he eyed the visitor.
“Colonel Charteris is absent, sir,” he said. “He went to Lancaster yesterday.”
“So I have just heard,” replied the other. “But you must excuse me, Mr. Bancroft, if I decline to take your assurance on that point. My men will search the castle.”
“As you please, sir,” replied the steward. “But you may depend upon it they won’t find him. Won’t you please to alight, and come in?”
“Such is my intention,” replied the colonel, springing from his horse and giving the bridle to the trooper nearest to him. “Let a dozen men follow me,” he added. “The rest will take the horses to the stable-feed them — and then come to the house.”
“It shall be done, colonel,” said the trooper.
“Excuse me, colonel,” said Bancroft. “They’ll find the stable doors locked. My master has taken the keys with him.”
“Break open the doors,” cried Colonel Oxburgh.
“If they do, they’ll find no forage inside,” said Bancroft. “All the hay and corn has been removed.”
“Never was there such a rascal!” cried Colonel Oxburgh, furiously. “Well, do the best you can,” he added, to his followers. “Put up the horses, and then come to the house.”
“To prevent disappointment,” said Bancroft, with a malicious grin, “I had better mention beforehand that they will find no provisions.”
“No provisions!” exclaimed the colonel, while the troopers who were within hearing looked aghast.
“The larder’s empty, sir, I’m sorry to say,” pursued the steward; “and what’s worse, there’s not a bottle of wine in the cellar.”
Murmurs and threats arose from the men.
“If your master acts thus, he must take the consequences,” observed Colonel Oxburgh. “He deserves the bad character he has acquired.”
The steward did not like the tone in which the remark was made, and looked as if he would be glad to escape, but this being impossible, he asked Colonel Oxburgh into the house.
As he entered the hall with his men, Colonel Oxburgh stopped him, and said:
“A word with you, Mr. Bancroft. You say there are no provisions in the house — no food for the horses in the stables.”
“I do, colonel,” replied the other.
“I won’t dispute the truth of your statement, but I have some orders to give you, which you will be pleased to execute. While I search the house see that a plentiful repast is set out for me and my followers in the dining-room—”
“I cannot accomplish impossibilities, colonel,” interrupted the steward.
“I require good wine for myself and my men. No discussion. It must be done. Two of my party will attend upon you, and shoot you through the head if you attempt to escape. The rest will remain with me.”
Leaving the steward quite confounded by what he had heard, in charge of a couple of troopers, Colonel Oxburgh made a thorough search of the house, peering into every room, but he did not find the person he sought, and began to think Colonel Charteris had really fled.
On repairing to the dining-room he was agreeably surprised to find a cold collation laid out on a long table.
“Aha! Mr. Bancroft,” he exclaimed, “you have performed wonders, I see. Is this the work of magic?”
“It turned out on examination that the larder was better furnished than I imagined, colonel,” said the steward.
“I thought as much,” rejoined Colonel Oxburgh. “After all, we shall not fare badly.”
“Nor will the horses, colonel,” observed one of the gentlemen troopers coming up to him. “We have found plenty of fodder in the stable.”
The colonel laughed heartily.
“What do you say to this, sir?” he remarked to the steward.
“Simply, that I o
beyed my master’s orders,” he rejoined.
“Your master is a miserable niggard,” said the colonel, signing to his followers to sit down, and taking the chair at the head of the table.
They were waited on by a couple of men servants, who had been discovered in the butler’s pantry, and were supplied with abundance of claret.
At the conclusion of the repast King James’s health was drunk by the whole party with loud cheers. Not only was the steward compelled to join in the toast, but to drink “Success to the insurgent army.”
When the moment of departure arrived, and the steward thought he was about to get rid of his unwelcome visitors, Colonel Oxburgh said to him:
“We shan’t part company at present, Mr. Bancroft. I shall be compelled to take you with me to Lancaster.”
“As a prisoner, colonel?”
“As a prisoner, sir!”
“But what have I done? What crime have I committed?”
“That General Forster will judge. I have his orders to arrest you.”
“Your orders, if I mistake not, are to arrest Colonel Charteris.”
“Exactly. But in arresting you I don’t think I shall be far wrong.”
“I can assure you, sir?”
“Nay, ’tis vain to deny it. From the first I suspected you were Colonel Charteris, and my suspicions have since become confirmed. ‘Twill be best to accompany me quietly. Resistance will be useless.”
“Very well,” rejoined the other. “Since you have seen through my disguise, I won’t attempt to maintain it longer. I am Colonel Charteris. Allow me to put up a few things, and I will go with you. Don’t be alarmed. I give you my word of honour I will return.”
“Your word of honour!” exclaimed Colonel Oxburgh, contemptuously, “I place little reliance upon it. A guard must accompany you while you make your preparations.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 739