by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XLV
High feasting was there there--the gilded roofs Rung to the wassail-health--the dancer's step Sprung to the chord responsive--the gay gamester To fate's disposal flung his heap of gold, And laugh'd alike when it increased or lessen'd: Such virtue hath court-air to teach us patience Which schoolmen preach in vain. --WHY COME YE NOT TO COURT?
Upon the afternoon of this eventful day, Charles held his Court in theQueen's apartments, which were opened at a particular hour to invitedguests of a certain lower degree, but accessible without restriction tothe higher classes of nobility who had from birth, and to the courtierswho held by office the privilege of the _entree_.
It was one part of Charles's character, which unquestionably renderedhim personally popular, and postponed to a subsequent reign theprecipitation of his family from the throne, that he banished from hisCourt many of the formal restrictions with which it was in other reignssurrounded. He was conscious of the good-natured grace of his manners,and trusted to it, often not in vain, to remove evil impressions arisingfrom actions, which he was sensible could not be justified on thegrounds of liberal or national policy.
In the daytime the King was commonly seen in the public walks alone, oronly attended by one or two persons; and his answer to the remonstranceof his brother, on the risk of thus exposing his person, is wellknown:--"Believe me, James," he said, "no one will murder _me_, to make_you_ King."
In the same manner, Charles's evenings, unless such as were destinedto more secret pleasures, were frequently spent amongst all who had anypretence to approach a courtly circle; and thus it was upon the nightwhich we are treating of. Queen Catherine, reconciled or humbled to herfate, had long ceased to express any feelings of jealousy, nay,seemed so absolutely dead to such a passion, that she received ather drawing-room, without scruple, and even with encouragement, theDuchesses of Portsmouth and Cleveland, and others, who enjoyed, thoughin a less avowed character, the credit of having been royal favourites.Constraint of every kind was banished from a circle so composed, andwhich was frequented at the same time, if not by the wisest, at least bythe wittiest courtiers, who ever assembled round a monarch, and who, asmany of them had shared the wants, and shifts, and frolics of his exile,had then acquired a sort of prescriptive licence, which the good-naturedprince, when he attained his period of prosperity, could hardly haverestrained had it suited his temper to do so. This, however, was theleast of Charles's thoughts. His manners were such as secured himfrom indelicate obtrusion; and he sought no other protection fromover-familiarity, than what these and his ready wit afforded him.
On the present occasion, he was peculiarly disposed to enjoy the sceneof pleasure which had been prepared. The singular death of Major Coleby,which, taking place in his own presence, had proclaimed, with the voiceof a passing bell, the ungrateful neglect of the Prince for whom hehad sacrificed everything, had given Charles much pain. But, in his ownopinion at least, he had completely atoned for this negligence by thetrouble which he had taken for Sir Geoffrey Peveril and his son, whoseliberation he looked upon not only as an excellent good deed in itself,but, in spite of the grave rebuke of Ormond, as achieved in a verypardonable manner, considering the difficulties with which he wassurrounded. He even felt a degree of satisfaction on receivingintelligence from the city that there had been disturbances in thestreets, and that some of the more violent fanatics had betakenthemselves to their meeting-houses, upon sudden summons, to inquire, astheir preachers phrased it, into the causes of Heaven's wrath, and intothe backsliding of the Court, lawyers, and jury, by whom the falseand bloody favourers of the Popish Plot were screened and cloaked fromdeserved punishment.
The King, we repeat, seemed to hear these accounts with pleasure, evenwhen he was reminded of the dangerous and susceptible character of thosewith whom such suspicions originated. "Will any one now assert," hesaid, with self-complacence, "that I am so utterly negligent of theinterest of friends?--You see the peril in which I place myself, andeven the risk to which I have exposed the public peace, to rescue a manwhom I have scarce seen for twenty years, and then only in his buff-coatand bandoleers, with other Train-Band officers who kissed hands upon theRestoration. They say Kings have long hands--I think they have as muchoccasion for long memories, since they are expected to watch over andreward every man in England, who hath but shown his goodwill by crying'God save the King!'"
"Nay, the rogues are even more unreasonable still," said Sedley; "forevery knave of them thinks himself entitled to your Majesty's protectionin a good cause, whether he has cried God save the King or no."
The King smiled, and turned to another part of the stately hall, whereeverything was assembled which could, according to the taste of the age,make the time glide pleasantly away.
In one place, a group of the young nobility, and of the ladies ofthe Court, listened to the reader's acquaintance Empson, who wasaccompanying with his unrivalled breathings on the flute, a young siren,who, while her bosom palpitated with pride and with fear, warbled to thecourtly and august presence the beautiful air beginning--
"Young I am, and yet unskill'd, How to make a lover yield," &c.
She performed her task in a manner so corresponding with the strains ofthe amatory poet, and the voluptuous air with which the words hadbeen invested by the celebrated Purcel, that the men crowded around inecstasies, while most of the ladies thought it proper either to lookextremely indifferent to the words she sung, or to withdraw fromthe circle as quietly as possible. To the song succeeded a concerto,performed by a select band of most admirable musicians, which the King,whose taste was indisputable, had himself selected.
At other tables in the apartment, the elder courtiers worshippedFortune, at the various fashionable games of ombre, quadrille, hazard,and the like; while heaps of gold which lay before the players,augmented or dwindled with every turn of a card or cast of a die. Manya year's rent of fair estates was ventured upon the main or the odds;which, spent in the old deserted manor-house, had repaired theravages of Cromwell upon its walls, and replaced the sources of goodhousekeeping and hospitality, that, exhausted in the last age by fineand sequestration, were now in a fair way of being annihilated bycareless prodigality. Elsewhere, under cover of observing the gamester,or listening to the music, the gallantries of that all-licensed age werepractised among the gay and fair, closely watched the whilst by the uglyor the old, who promised themselves at least the pleasure of observing,and it may be that of proclaiming, intrigues in which they could not besharers.
From one table to another glided the merry Monarch, exchanging now aglance with a Court beauty, now a jest with a Court wit, now beatingtime to the music, and anon losing or winning a few pieces of gold onthe chance of the game to which he stood nearest;--the most amiable ofvoluptuaries--the gayest and best-natured of companions--the man thatwould, of all others, have best sustained his character, had life been acontinued banquet, and its only end to enjoy the passing hour, and sendit away as pleasantly as might be.
But Kings are least of all exempted from the ordinary lot of humanity;and Seged of Ethiopia is, amongst monarchs, no solitary example of thevanity of reckoning on a day or an hour of undisturbed serenity. Anattendant on the Court announced suddenly to their Majesties that alady, who would only announce herself as a Peeress of England, desiredto be admitted into the presence.
The Queen said, hastily, it was _impossible_. No peeress, withoutannouncing her title, was entitled to the privilege of her rank.
"I could be sworn," said a nobleman in attendance, "that it is some whimof the Duchess of Newcastle."
The attendant who brought the message, said that he did indeed believeit to be the Duchess, both from the singularity of the message, and thatthe lady spoke with somewhat a foreign accent.
"In the name of madness, then," said the King, "let us admit her.Her Grace is an entire raree-show in her own person--a universalmasquerade--ind
eed a sort of private Bedlam-hospital, her whole ideasbeing like so many patients crazed upon the subjects of love andliterature, who act nothing in their vagaries, save Minerva, Venus, andthe nine Muses."
"Your Majesty's pleasure must always supersede mine," said the Queen. "Ionly hope I shall not be expected to entertain so fantastic a personage.The last time she came to Court, Isabella"--(she spoke to one of herPortuguese ladies of honour)--"you had not returned from our lovelyLisbon!--her Grace had the assurance to assume a right to bring atrain-bearer into my apartment; and when this was not allowed, whatthen, think you, she did?--even caused her train to be made so long,that three mortal yards of satin and silver remained in the antechamber,supported by four wenches, while the other end was attached toher Grace's person, as she paid her duty at the upper end of thepresence-room. Full thirty yards of the most beautiful silk did herGrace's madness employ in this manner."
"And most beautiful damsels they were who bore this portentous train,"said the King--"a train never equalled save by that of the great cometin sixty-six. Sedley and Etherege told us wonders of them; for it is oneadvantage of this new fashion brought up by the Duchess, that amatron may be totally unconscious of the coquetry of her train and itsattendants."
"Am I to understand, then, your Majesty's pleasure is, that the lady isto be admitted?" said the usher.
"Certainly," said the King; "that is, if the incognita be reallyentitled to the honour.--It may be as well to inquire her title--thereare more madwomen abroad than the Duchess of Newcastle. I will walk intothe anteroom myself, and receive your answer."
But ere Charles had reached the lower end of the apartment in hisprogress to the anteroom, the usher surprised the assembly by announcinga name which had not for many a year been heard in these courtlyhalls--"the Countess of Derby!"
Stately and tall, and still, at an advanced period of life, having aperson unbroken by years, the noble lady advanced towards her Sovereign,with a step resembling that with which she might have met an equal.There was indeed nothing in her manner that indicated either haughtinessor assumption unbecoming that presence; but her consciousness of wrongs,sustained from the administration of Charles, and of the superiority ofthe injured party over those from whom, or in whose name, the injuryhad been offered, gave her look dignity, and her step firmness. She wasdressed in widow's weeds, of the same fashion which were worn at thetime her husband was brought to the scaffold; and which, in the thirtyyears subsequent to that event, she had never permitted her tirewoman toalter.
The surprise was no pleasing one to the King; and cursing in his heartthe rashness which had allowed the lady entrance on the gay scenein which they were engaged, he saw at the same time the necessity ofreceiving her in a manner suitable to his own character, and her rank inthe British Court. He approached her with an air of welcome, into whichhe threw all his natural grace, while he began, "_Chere Comtesse deDerby, puissante Reine de Man, notre tres auguste soeur----_"
"Speak English, sire, if I may presume to ask such a favour," said theCountess. "I am a Peeress of this nation--mother to one English Earl,and widow, alas, to another! In England I have spent my brief daysof happiness, my long years of widowhood and sorrow. France and itslanguage are but to me the dreams of an uninteresting childhood. I knowno tongue save that of my husband and my son. Permit me, as the widowand mother of Derby, thus to render my homage."
She would have kneeled, but the King gracefully prevented her, and,saluting her cheek, according to the form, led her towards the Queen,and himself performed the ceremony of introduction. "Your Majesty," hesaid, "must be informed that the Countess has imposed a restriction onFrench--the language of gallantry and compliment. I trust your Majestywill, though a foreigner, like herself, find enough of honest Englishto assure the Countess of Derby with what pleasure we see her at Court,after the absence of so many years."
"I will endeavour to do so, at least," said the Queen, on whom theappearance of the Countess of Derby made a more favourable impressionthan that of many strangers, whom, at the King's request, she was in thehabit of receiving with courtesy.
Charles himself again spoke. "To any other lady of the same rank I mightput the question, why she was so long absent from the circle? I fear Ican only ask the Countess of Derby, what fortunate cause produces thepleasure of seeing her here?"
"No fortunate cause, my liege, though one most strong and urgent."
The King augured nothing agreeable from this commencement; and in truth,from the Countess's first entrance, he had anticipated some unpleasantexplanation, which he therefore hastened to parry, having first composedhis features into an expression of sympathy and interest.
"If," said he, "the cause is of a nature in which we can renderassistance, we cannot expect your ladyship should enter upon it at thepresent time; but a memorial addressed to our secretary, or, if it ismore satisfactory, to ourselves directly, will receive our immediate,and I trust I need not add, our favourable construction."
The Countess bowed with some state, and answered, "My business, sire,is indeed important; but so brief, that it need not for more than afew minutes withdraw your ear from what is more pleasing;--yet it is sourgent, that I am afraid to postpone it even for a moment."
"This is unusual," said Charles. "But you, Countess of Derby, are anunwonted guest, and must command my time. Does the matter require myprivate ear?"
"For my part," said the Countess, "the whole Court might listen; butyou Majesty may prefer hearing me in the presence of one or two of yourcounsellors."
"Ormond," said the King, looking around, "attend us for an instant--anddo you, Arlington, do the same."
The King led the way into an adjoining cabinet, and, seating himself,requested the Countess would also take a chair. "It needs not, sire,"she replied; then pausing for a moment, as if to collect her spirits,she proceeded with firmness.
"Your Majesty well said that no light cause had drawn me from my lonelyhabitation. I came not hither when the property of my son--that propertywhich descended to him from a father who died for your Majesty'srights--was conjured away from him under pretext of justice, that itmight first feed the avarice of the rebel Fairfax, and then supply theprodigality of his son-in-law, Buckingham."
"These are over harsh terms, lady," said the King. "A legal penalty was,as we remember, incurred by an act of irregular violence--so our courtsand our laws term it, though personally I have no objection to call it,with you, an honourable revenge. But admit it were such, in prosecutionof the laws of honour, bitter legal consequences are often necessarilyincurred."
"I come not to argue for my son's wasted and forfeited inheritance,sire," said the Countess; "I only take credit for my patience, underthat afflicting dispensation. I now come to redeem the honour of theHouse of Derby, more dear to me than all the treasures and lands whichever belonged to it."
"And by whom is the honour of the House of Derby impeached?" said theKing; "for on my word you bring me the first news of it."
"Has there one Narrative, as these wild fictions are termed, beenprinted with regard to the Popish Plot--this pretended Plot as I willcall it--in which the honour of our house has not been touched andtainted? And are there not two noble gentlemen, father and son, alliesof the House of Stanley, about to be placed in jeopardy of their lives,on account of matters in which we are the parties first impeached?"
The King looked around, and smiled to Arlington and Ormond. "TheCountess's courage, methinks, shames ours. What lips dared have calledthe immaculate Plot _pretended_, or the Narrative of the witnesses, ourpreservers from Popish knives, a wild fiction?--But, madam," he said,"though I admire the generosity of your interference in behalf ofthe two Peverils, I must acquaint you, that your interference isunnecessary--they are this morning acquitted."
"Now may God be praised!" said the Countess, folding her hands. "Ihave scarce slept since I heard the news of their impeachment; and havearrived here to surrender myself to your Majesty's justice, or to theprejudices of the nation, in h
opes, by so doing, I might at least savethe lives of my noble and generous friends, enveloped in suspicion only,or chiefly, by their connection with us.--Are they indeed acquitted?"
"They are, by my honour," said the King. "I marvel you heard it not."
"I arrived but last night, and remained in the strictest seclusion,"said the Countess, "afraid to make any inquiries that might occasiondiscovery ere I saw your Majesty."
"And now that we _have_ met," said the King, taking her hand kindly--"ameeting which gives me the greatest pleasure--may I recommend to youspeedily to return to your royal island with as little _eclat_ as youcame thither? The world, my dear Countess, has changed since we wereyoung. Men fought in the Civil War with good swords and muskets; but nowwe fight with indictments and oaths, and such like legal weapons. Youare no adept in such warfare; and though I am well aware you know howto hold out a castle, I doubt much if you have the art to parry off animpeachment. This Plot has come upon us like a land storm--there is nosteering the vessel in the teeth of the tempest--we must run for thenearest haven, and happy if we can reach one."
"This is cowardice, my liege," said the Countess--"Forgive the word!--itis but a woman who speaks it. Call your noble friends around you, andmake a stand like your royal father. There is but one right and onewrong--one honourable and forward course; and all others which deviateare oblique and unworthy."
"Your language, my venerated friend," said Ormond, who saw the necessityof interfering betwixt the dignity of the actual Sovereign and thefreedom of the Countess, who was generally accustomed to receive, notto pay observance,--"your language is strong and decided, but it appliesnot to the times. It might occasion a renewal of the Civil War, andof all its miseries, but could hardly be attended with the effects yousanguinely anticipate."
"You are too rash, my Lady Countess," said Arlington, "not only to rushupon this danger yourself, but to desire to involve his Majesty. Letme say plainly, that, in this jealous time, you have done but ill toexchange the security of Castle Rushin for the chance of a lodging inthe Tower of London."
"And were I to kiss the block there," said the Countess, "as did myhusband at Bolton-on-the-Moors, I would do so willingly, rather thanforsake a friend!--and one, too, whom, as in the case of the youngerPeveril, I have thrust upon danger."
"But have I not assured you that both of the Peverils, elder andyounger, are freed from peril?" said the King; "and, my dear Countess,what can else tempt you to thrust _yourself_ on danger, from which,doubtless, you expect to be relieved by my intervention? Methinks alady of your judgment should not voluntarily throw herself into a river,merely that her friends might have the risk and merit of dragging herout."
The Countess reiterated her intention to claim a fair trial.--The twocounsellors again pressed their advice that she should withdraw, thoughunder the charge of absconding from justice, and remain in her ownfeudal kingdom.
The King, seeing no termination to the debate, gently reminded theCountess that her Majesty would be jealous if he detained her ladyshiplonger, and offered her his hand to conduct her back to the company.This she was under the necessity of accepting, and returned accordinglyto the apartments of state, where an event occurred immediatelyafterwards, which must be transferred to the next chapter.