The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth
Page 787
When he arose, he retired into an inner room with his valet, Paul Moreau, and doffing his riding-dress and boots, put on silken hose, a rich velvet doublet, and a falling band edged with lace.
While changing his linen he said to Paul Moreau:
“Take care that this shirt is not taken from me, but let me be buried in it.”
“It shall be done, my lord,” replied the valet.
The earl then sent for Lord Strange, who had brought him the blue riband of the Garter, and now helped him to put it on.
“Charles,” he said to his son, “I shall not wear this order long, but I desire to be seen in it on the scaffold. Baguley will bring it back to you. Return it, I pray you, to my most gracious sovereign, and say that I sent it back to him in all humility and gratitude — spotless as I received it.”
This done, he desired to be left alone, and prayed in private for nearly half an hour, during which his groans and interjections could be heard by those in the outer room, and when he came forth his eyes still bore traces of tears.
Addressing those present, he said:
“I must now bid you farewell for ever. Think not from any signs of affliction you may discern on my countenance that I am unwilling to leave the world, being well assured that I shall be carried from trouble to rest and peace — from sorrow to lasting bliss. Death has no other bitterness for me save that it takes me from those I love. But I leave them to the care and protection of a better husband and a better father. As to my relentless enemies I freely forgive them, and beseech Heaven to forgive them likewise.”
He then called to Lord Strange, who knelt down and received his blessing.
Tenderly embracing him, when he arose, the earl said:
“Farewell, dear son. It is not fit you should accompany me to the scaffold, so I shall behold you no more in this world, but I trust we shall meet in Heaven. Again, I commend your admirable mother to you. Farewell!”
Then gently disengaging himself from Lord Strange, whose arm was still round his neck, and who was weeping bitterly, he bade Moreau inform the officer he was ready.
After a brief interval, the door was thrown open, and with a firm footstep the earl commenced his march to death, preceded by the officer with a drawn sword in his hand, and followed by Baguley, Paul Moreau, and two other servants.
CHAPTER II
The Headsman
THE few sorrowing persons standing around, would undoubtedly have pressed upon the earl, or knelt down before him, if they had not been prevented by the double line of musketeers through which he had to pass.
Even now the scaffold was scarcely finished, and not being draped with black, had a mean look.
However, it was in a great measure hidden by the troopers who were drawn up round it, with their horses’ heads turned towards the rails.
The executioner was already at his post, a churl who might have been chosen for his repulsive countenance; or more probably because no one else would fill the odious office.
The beholders regarded the caitiff with loathing and horror, and their execrations and opprobrious epithets constantly reached his ears.
From his deep-sunken fiery eyes, long black upper lip, projecting teeth, and heavy jaw the fellow resembled a bull-dog. Habited in a stout leather doublet, he wore a leather cap over his closely-cropped hair.
Near him was the block, beside which was placed the axe — a very heavy implement with an unusually short handle — the blade being large, convex in shape, and exceedingly keen.
At a little distance from the block was the coffin, the lid of which had been taken off.
On his way to the scaffold, the earl called out to the people whose prayers and lamentations he could hear:
“Good friends, I thank you heartily. The God of Mercy bless you? Continue to pray for me, I beseech you! And may our blessed Lord return your prayers into your own bosoms!”
Before mounting the steps, at the top of which stood two pikemen, he paused for a moment and exclaimed aloud:
“Heaven, I thank thee that I am not afraid to go up here, though there are but these few steps to my eternity!”
Kissing the ladder, he ascended, followed after a short interval by Baguley and Paul Moreau. The officer had already gone up
CHAPTER III
A Tumult
ON gaining the platform, the earl marched towards the rails, averting his gaze from the headsman and the block, and taking off his hat bowed to the assemblage.
Though surprised to find them so few in number — for he had expected a large and tumultuous crowd — he was inexpressibly touched by their sympathetic looks.
On their part the spectators were equally struck, though in a different manner, by the earl’s appearance, as he stood bareheaded before them.
To those familiar with his noble countenance, it seemed wofully changed. Skin pallid, eyes lacking lustre, dark locks streaked with grey.
But his demeanour had lost none of its dignity, and the change described gave a peculiar interest to his features, as showing the trials he had gone through.
In the course of his speech to the assemblage, his countenance brightened up, and his eyes flashed fire as he thus concluded:
“By the king’s enemies I am condemned to die, by new and unknown laws. The Lord send us our king again. The Lord send us our old laws again. The Lord send us our religion again. As for the religion now practised, it has no name. Truly can I say for myself, I die for God, the king, and the laws; and this makes me not ashamed of my life, or afraid to die.”
As these bold words were uttered, a trooper near the scaffold called out in a stentorian voice:
“We will neither have king, lords, nor laws.”
Regarding the interruption as a needless insult to the earl, the bystanders resented it by a loud groan, and hooting.
Thereupon, the whole of the troopers, exasperated by the sympathy manifested for the earl, turned suddenly round, and drove the people back, cutting at them with their swords, and chasing them in different directions. Several were wounded, and a child was ridden over and killed.
This deplorable occurrence caused the earl the greatest distress, as he was compelled to witness the painful spectacle. He vainly besought the officer to stay the hands of the infuriated troopers.
“It grieves me more than my own death,” he said, “that these poor inoffensive people should be hurt on my account — perhaps die for me.”
“The people are not inoffensive, and must be taught a lesson,” replied the officer, declining to interfere.
So the troopers continued riding backwards and forwards for some time to the great terror of the people, and the earl unable to help them, sat down in a chair, which had been placed on the scaffold, and covered his face to exclude the sight.
CHAPTER IV
The Block
WHEN the tumult at length subsided, and some of the boldest of the spectators ventured to come back, the earl called to the headsman, and bade him bring him the axe.
Rudely and reluctantly, the surly fellow obeyed.
“Friend, I will not harm it,” observed the earl, as he took the implement; “and I am sure it will not harm me.”
“Nay, I won’t answer for that,” rejoined the headsman, with a horrible grin. “Maybe it will. Feel the edge, and you will find it tolerably sharp.”
“I would have it sharp,” said the earl.
And kissing the weapon he returned it to him.
“Here are two gold pieces — all I have,” he added. “I pray thee do thy work effectually.”
“I will try,” replied the churl, as he put the coin in his pouch.
“Thou hadst best take off thy doublet,” said the earl. “’Tis too cumbrous for thy work.”
“You are mistaken,” replied the man. “It will not hinder me.”
Several of the lookers on, displeased by the man’s behaviour, here called out:
“Kneel, fellow, and ask his lordship’s pardon.”
But the churl refu
sed, and called out significantly:
“It seems you want another lesson from the troopers, my masters.”
“As thou wilt, friend,” said the earl, desirous that peace should be kept. “I give the pardon thou wilt not ask. May Heaven forgive thee also!”
Hearing a noise, and fearing a fresh delay, he earnestly ejaculated:
“How long, Lord, how long!”
Quiet being soon restored, the earl arose from his chair, and looking at the coffin, said:
“Thou art my bridal chamber. In thee I shall rest without a guard.”
From the coffin he turned to the block, and remarked:
“Methinks it is very low, and yet there is but one step from it to Heaven.”
But he caused it to be shifted, so that he might see the church, remarking:
“While I am here I will look towards thy holy sanctuary, and I know that within a few minutes I shall behold thee, my God and King, in thy sanctuary above. Under the shadow of thy wings shall be my refuge till this calamity be overpast.”
CHAPTER V
Martyrdom
HE then began to prepare for death, and taking off his blue riband gave it to Baguley to deliver to his son, saying:
“He knows my injunctions respecting it.”
With Paul Moreau’s aid, he next divested himself of his doublet and band, and then addressing the officer said:
“Pray tell me how I must lie. I have been called bloodthirsty, yet I had never the severe curiosity to see any man put to death in peace.”
“Your lordship had best make the trial,” replied the officer.
The earl then laid himself down upon the block, and on rising caused it to be slightly moved.
When this was done, he said to the headsman:
“Friend, remember what I told thee. Be no more afraid to strike than I am to die. When I put up my hand, do thy work.”
Looking round at his attendants, and at the people who were watching his every action, and listening intently for a word, he lifted up his hands, and exclaimed:
“The Lord bless you all. Once more pray for me, and with me.”
As he knelt down beside the chair, the injunction was universally obeyed.
After praying fervently for some time, he arose with a smiling countenance, and said:
“My soul is now at rest, and so shall my body be immediately. The Lord bless my king and restore him to his rights in this kingdom. The Lord bless this kingdom, and restore the people to their rights in their king, that he and they may join hand in hand to settle truth and peace. The Lord bless this country, this town, this people. The Lord comfort my wife and children. The Lord forgive the authors of my unjust death.”
Then laying his neck upon the block, he stretched out his arms, exclaiming:
“Blessed be God’s holy name for ever and ever!”
With these words he gave the sign. But the headsman moved not.
After a moment of dreadful suspense, the earl arose, and regarding the man sternly, exclaimed:
“Why do you keep me from my Saviour? What have I done that I die not to live with Him. Once more I will lie down in peace, and take my everlasting rest.”
Again extending himself on the block, he cried out!
“Come, Lord Jesus! — come quickly!”
This time the executioner did not delay, but struck off the noble head at a single blow, amid universal lamentation.
When the body was placed in the coffin, a piece of paper was dropped upon the breast, on which these lines were traced:
Bounty, wit, courage,
here in one lie dead,
a Stanley’s hand,
Vere’s heart, and
Cecil’s head.
THE END
STANLEY BRERETON
CONTENTS
VOLUME I.
PROLOGUE: SIR THOMAS STARKEY.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHAPTER XL.
CHAPTER XLI.
CHAPTER XLII.
CHAPTER XLIII.
CHAPTER XLIV.
CHAPTER XLV.
VOLUME II.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHAPTER XL.
CHAPTER XLI.
CHAPTER XLII.
CHAPTER XLIII.
CHAPTER XLIV.
CHAPTER XLV.
CHAPTER XLVI.
CHAPTER XLVII.
The original frontispiece
VOLUME I.
PROLOGUE: SIR THOMAS STARKEY.
CHAPTER I.
THE NEGLECTED WIFE.
IN the private parlour of the great banking house in the Strand, two of the partners were seated one morning, a few years ago, at a table covered with letters and accounts, most of which had been examined and put aside, but a few were left that required attention.
Both these gentlemen, though shrewd men of business, had easy, agreeable manners, and were remarkably courteous to all brought into contact with them. Mr. Moseley, the senior partner, who was rather stout, and rosy-cheeked, with grey hair, had a very pleasant expression of countenance; nor could anything be said against his partner, Mr. Vere, but the latter was decidedly the gravest of the two, and had a very keen look when making an inquiry. They were discussing an important matter that had just come before them, when a lady and gentleman were ushered into the room by a clerk, and announced as Lady Starkey and Sir John Lambert.
The two bankers immediately arose, and shook hands with Sir John, who presented her ladyship to them, while the sedate clerk placed seats for the new-comers near the table.
Though no longer young, Lady Starkey was extremely handsome, and had a tall symmetrical figure, regular features of a proud cast, and fine, black eyes, that had lost none of their brilliancy. Her personal attractions were heightened by a very charming dress. No one, unacquainted with he
r history, would have imagined that such a beautiful woman could have been neglected; but Sir Thomas Starkey, it appeared, was a very indifferent husband.
Sir John Lambert, the friend by whom her ladyship was accompanied, was old enough to be her father — in fact, he had known her from childhood, and regarded her almost as a daughter. She consulted him on all important occasions, and he gave the best advice he could. He had counselled the present visit to the bankers, as he thought some information which she desired respecting her husband could be obtained from them. The old baronet, we may mention, kept a good account at the house, and was consequently much esteemed.
As time was not to be wasted in that room, Sir John was about to explain what brought Lady Starkey there, when Mr. Moseley checked him.
“Before anything is said, Sir John,” remarked the banker, “I ought to state that we have received a letter this very morning from Sir Thomas Starkey, giving us certain instructions, on which we shall be pleased to act.”
“Have your instructions any reference to Lady Starkey, may I ask?” inquired Sir John.
“They have,” replied Mr. Moseley. “We are requested to honour her ladyship’s drafts to the extent of two thousand pounds, and were just about to write to her to that effect.”
“This is singular,” remarked Sir John.
“Entirely unexpected on my part,” said Lady Starkey. “I did not suppose Sir Thomas had written to you, gentlemen,” she added.
“There is his letter, if your ladyship desires to see it,” said Mr. Vere, handing it to her.
A very brief communication indeed, and containing nothing more than the order mentioned.
Lady Starkey, however, glanced at the letter inquiringly, as if to search for some information, which she did not find.
“The letter is dated yesterday,” she remarked to Sir John. “But no address is given.”