His Majesty's Well-Beloved
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Title: His Majesty's Well-Beloved
Creator: Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy
Release date: May 24, 2012 [eBook #39787]
Language: English
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Credits: Produced by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY'S WELL-BELOVED ***
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
HIS MAJESTY'S WELL-BELOVED
AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF MR.
THOMAS BETTERTON AS TOLD BY
HIS FRIEND JOHN HONEYWOOD
BY
BARONESS ORCZY
AUTHOR OF "THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET
PIMPERNEL," "FLOWER O' THE LILY,"
"LORD TONY'S WIFE," ETC.
NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
_Copyright, 1919,_
_By George H. Doran Company_
_Printed in the United States of America_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. How it all Began
II. The Rift Within the Lute
III. A Criminal Folly
IV. More than a Passing Fancy
V. The Outrage
VI. The Gathering Storm
VII. An Assembly of Traitors
VIII. The Lion's Wrath
IX. A Last Chance
X. The Hour
XI. Rumours and Conjectures
XII. Poisoned Arrows
XIII. The Lady Pleads
XIV. The Ruling Passion
XV. More Deaf than Adders
XVI. The Game of Love
HIS MAJESTY'S WELL-BELOVED
CHAPTER I
How it all Began
1
_From Mr. John Honeywood, clerk to Mr. Theophilus Baggs,
attorney-at-law, to Mistress Mary Saunderson, of the Duke's Theatre in
Lincoln's Inn Fields._
1662. October the 10th at 85, Chancery Lane in the City of London.
Honoured Mistress,--
May it please you that I, an humble Clerk and Scrivener, do venture to
address so talented a Lady; but there is that upon my Conscience which
compels me to write these lines. The Goodness and Charity of Mistress
Saunderson are well known, and 'tis not as a Suppliant that I crave
pardon for my Presumption, but rather as one whose fidelity and loyalty
have oft been tried and never been found wanting. 'Tis said, most
gracious Mistress, that your fancy hath been touched by the tenderness
and devotion of a Man who is as dear to me as if he were mine own
Brother, but that You hesitate to bestow upon him that for which he
craves more than for anything in the world, your Hand and Heart. And
this because of many Rumours which have sullied his fair Name. Mr.
Betterton, Madam, hath many enemies. How could this be otherwise seeing
that so vast a measure of Success hath attended his career, and that the
King's most gracious Majesty doth honour him with Friendship and Regard
to the exclusion of others who are envious of so great a fame? Those
Enemies now, Madam, seeing that your Heart hath been touched with the
man's grace and bearing, rather than with his undying Renown, have set
themselves the task of blackening Mr. Betterton's character before your
eyes, thus causing you mayhap grievous Sorrow and Disappointment. But
this I do swear by all that I hold most sacred, that Mr. Betterton hath
never committed a mean Act in his life nor done aught to forfeit your
Regard. Caustic of wit he is, but neither a Braggart nor a Bully; he
hath been credited with many good Fortunes, but so hath every Gentleman
in the Kingdom, and there is no discredit attached to a man for
subjugating the Hearts of those that are both frail and fair. My Lady
Castlemaine hath bestowed many favours on Mr. Betterton, so hath the
Countess of Shrewsbury, and there are others, at least the Gossips do
aver it. But on my Soul and Honour, he hath never ceased to love You,
until the day when a certain great Lady came across his path for his
misfortune and his undying Regret. And even so, Madam, though
appearances are against him, I own, let me assure You that the swerving
of his Allegiance to You was not only transitory but it was never one of
the Heart--it was a mere aberration of the senses. He may never forget
the Lady--he certainly will never forget her Cruelty--but he no longer
loves Her, never did love Her as he loves You, with his Heart and Mind,
with Tenderness and Devotion. The other was only a Dream--a fitful
fancy: his Love for You is as immortal as his Fame. Therefore, gracious
Mistress, I, the humble Friend of so great a Man, have ventured to set
forth for your perusal that which he himself would be too proud to put
before you--namely, his Justification. As for the rest, what I am about
to relate is the true Historie of Mr. Betterton's Romance, the only one
which might give you cause for sorrow, yet none for uneasiness, because
that Romance is now a thing of the past, like unto a Flower that is
faded and without fragrance, even though it still lies pressed between
the pages of a great man's Book of Life. Everything else is mere
Episode. But this which I have here set down will show you how much
nobility of heart and grandeur of Character lies hidden beneath the
flippant and at times grim exterior of the Man whom you have honoured
with your regard.
The writing of the Historie hath caused me much anxiety and deep
thought. I desired to present the Truth before you, and not the
highly-coloured effusions of a Partisan. I have slurred over nothing,
concealed nothing. An you, gracious Mistress, have the patience to read
unto the End, I am confident that any Hesitation as to your Future which
may still linger in your Heart will vanish with the more intimate
Knowledge of the true Facts of the case, as well as of the Man whose
faults are of his own Time and of his Entourage, but whose Merits are
for the whole World to know and to cherish, for as many Cycles of years
as there will be Englishmen to speak the Words of English Poets.
2
Dare I take you back, honoured Mistress, to those humble days, five
years ago, when first I entered the Household of your worthy Uncle, Mr.
Theophilus Baggs, and of his still more worthy Spouse, Mistress
Euphrosine, where for a small--very small--stipend, and free board and
lodging, I copied legal documents, Leases, Wills and Indentures for my
Employer?
You, fair Lady, were then the only ray of Sunshine which illumined the
darkness of my dreary Life. Yours was a Gaiety which nothing could
damp, a Courage and Vitality which not even the nagging disposition of
Mistress Euphrosine succeeded in crushing. And when, smarting under her
many Chidings, my stomach craving for a small Measure of satisfaction,
my Bones aching from the hardness of my bed, I saw your slim Figure
flitting, elf-like, from kitchen to living-room, your full young Throat
bursting with song like that of a Bird at the first scent of Spring, I
would find my lot less hard, the bread less sour, even Mistress
Euphrosine's tongue less acrimonious. My poor, atrophied Heart felt the
warmth of your Smile.
Then sometimes, when my Work was done and my Employers occupied with
their own affairs, You used to allow me to be of service to you, to help
you wash the dishes which your dainty Hands should never have been
allowed to touch.
Oh! how I writhed when I heard Mistress Euphrosine ordering You about as
if You were a kitchen-wench, rather than her husband's Niece, who was
honouring his House with your presence! You, so exquisite, so perfect,
so cultured, to be the Handmaid of a pair of sour, ill-conditioned
Reprobates who were not worthy to tie the lacets of your dainty shoes.
With what Joy I performed the menial tasks which never should have been
allotted to You, I never until now have dared to tell. I did not think
that any Man could find dish-washing and floor-scrubbing quite so
enchanting. But then no other Man hath ever to my knowledge performed
such tasks under such happy circumstances; with You standing before me,
smiling and laughing at my clumsiness, your shapely arms akimbo, your
Voice now rippling into Song, now chaffing me with Words full of
kindness and good-humour.
I have known many happy Hours since that Day, Mistress, and many Hours
full of Sorrow, but none so full of pulsating Life as those which
outwardly had seemed so miserable.
And then that wonderful afternoon when Mr. Theophilus Baggs and his
Spouse being safely out of the way, we stole out together and spent a
few hours at the Play! Do you remember the day on which we ventured on
the Escapade? Mr. Baggs and Mistress Euphrosine had gone to Hampton
Court: he to see a noble Client and she to accompany him. The day being
fine and the Client being a Lady possessed of well-known charms,
Mistress Euphrosine would not have trusted her Lord alone in the company
of such a forward Minx--at least, those were her Words, which she
uttered in my hearing two Days before the memorable Expedition.
Memorable, indeed, it was to me!
Mr. Baggs left a sheaf of Documents for me to copy, which would--he
thought--keep me occupied during the whole course of a long Day. You
too, fair Mistress, were to be kept busy during the worthy couple's
absence, by scrubbing and polishing and sewing--Mistress Euphrosine
holding all idleness in abhorrence.
I marvel if you remember it all!
I do, as if it had occurred yesterday! We sat up half the Night
previous to our Taskmasters' departure; you polishing and sewing, and I
copying away for very life. You remember? Our joint Savings for the
past six Months we had counted up together. They amounted to three
shillings. One shilling we spent in oil for our lamps, so that we might
complete our Tasks during the Night. This left us free for the great
and glorious Purpose which we had in our Minds and which we had planned
and brooded over for Days and Weeks.
We meant to go to the Play!
It seems strange now, in view of your Renown, fair Mistress, and of mine
own intimacy with Mr. Betterton, that You and I had both reached an age
of Man and Womanhood without ever having been to the Play. Yet You
belonged from childhood to the household of Mistress Euphrosine Baggs,
who is own sister to Mr. Betterton. But that worthy Woman abhorred the
Stage and all that pertained to it, and she blushed--aye, blushed!--at
thought of the marvellous Fame attained by her illustrious Brother.
Do you remember confiding to me, less than a month after I first entered
the household of Mr. Baggs, that You were pining to go to the Play? You
had seen Mr. Betterton once or twice when he came to visit his
Sister--which he did not do very often--but you had never actually been
made acquainted with him, nor had you ever seen him act. And You told me
how handsome he was, and how distinguished; and your dark Eyes would
flash with enthusiasm at thought of the Actor's Art and of the Actor's
Power.
I had never seen him at all in those Days, but I loved to hear about
him. Strange what a fascination the Stage exercised over so
insignificant and so mean a creature as I!
3
Will you ever forget the dawn of that glorious Day, fair Mistress?
Mr. Baggs and his Spouse went off quite early, to catch the chaise at La
Belle Sauvage which would take them to Hampton Court. But however early
they went, we thought them mighty slow in making a start. An hundred
Recommendations, Orderings, Scoldings, had to be gone through ere the
respectable Couple, carrying provisions for the day in a Bandana
Handkerchief, finally got on the way.
It was a perfect Morning early in March, with the first scent and feel
of Spring in the air. Not a Cloud in the Sky. By Midday our tasks were
entirely accomplished and we were free! Free as the Birds in the air,
free as two 'prentices out for a holiday! But little did we eat, I
remember. We were too excited for hunger; nor had Mistress Euphrosine
left much in the larder for us. What did we care? Our Enthusiasm, our
Eagerness, were Cook and Scullion for us, that day!
We were going to the Play!
Oh! how we tripped to Cockpit Lane, asking our way from passers-by, for
we knew so little of London--fashionable London, that is; the London of
Gaiety and Laughter, of careless Thoughts and wayward Moods. Holding
hands, we hurried through the Streets. You wore a dark Cape with a Hood
to hide your pretty Face and your soft brown Hair, lest some
Acquaintance of your Uncle's should chance to see You and betray our
guilty secret.
Do you remember how we met Mr. Rhodes, the bookseller, and friend of Mr.
Baggs?--he to whom young Mr. Betterton was even then apprenticed. At the
corner of Princes Street we came nose to nose with him, and but for
great presence of mind on my part when, without an instant's hesitation,
I ran straight at him and butted him in the Stomach so that he lost his
Balance for the moment and only recovered complete Consciousness after
we had disappeared round the corner of the Street, he no doubt would
have recognised us and betrayed our naughty Secret.
Oh, what a fright we had! I can see You now, leaning, breathless and
panting, against the street corner, your Hand pressed to your Bosom,
your Eyes shining like Stars!
As for the rest, it is all confusion in my mind. The Crowd, the Bustle,
the Noise, this great Assembly, the like of which I had never seen
before. I do not know how we came to our seats. All I know is that we
were there, looking down upon the moving throng. I remember that some
Worthy of obvious note was sitting next to me, and was perpetually
treading upon my toes. But this I did not mind, for he was good enough
to point out to me the various Notabilities amongst the Audience or upon
the Stage; and I was greatly marvelled and awed by the wonderful
familiarity with which he spoke of all these distinguished People.
"There sits General Monk. Brave old George! By gad! 'twere interesting
to know what goes on inside that square Head of his! King or Protector,
which is it to be? Or Protector _and_ King! George knows; and you mark
my words, young Sir, George will be the one to decide. Old Noll is
sick; he can't last long. And Master Richard hath not much affection
for his Father's Friends--calls them Reprobates and ungodly. Well! can
you see George being rebuked by Master Richard for going to the Play?"
And I, not being on such intimate terms with the Lord Protector's Son or
with General Monk, could offer no opinion on the subject. And after a
while my Neighbour went on glibly:
"Ah! here comes my Lady Viner, flaunting silks and satins. Aye, the
fair Alice--his third Wife, mark you!--knows how to spend the money
which her Lord hath been at such pains to scrape together. By gad! who'd
have thought to see red-haired Polly Ann so soon after the demise of His
Grace! See, not an inch of widows' Weeds doth she wear in honour of the
old Dotard who did her the infinite favour of dying just in the nick of
time...."
And so on, the Man would babble in a continuous stream of talk. You,
Mistress, listened to him open-mouthed, your great brown Eyes aglow with
curiosity and with excitement. You and I knew but little of those great
Folk, and seeing them all around us, prepared for the same enjoyment
which we had paid to obtain, made us quite intoxicated with eagerness.
Our Neighbour, who of a truth seemed to know everything, expressed great
surprise at the fact that Old Noll--as he so unceremoniously named the
Lord Protector--had tolerated the opening of the Cockpit. "But," he
added sententiously, "Bill Davenant could wheedle a block of ice out of
the devil, if he chose."
4
Of the Play I remember but little. I was in truth much too excited to
take it all in. And sitting so near You, Mistress--for the Place was
overcrowded--my Knee touching yours, your dear little hand darting out
from time to time to grip mine convulsively during the more palpitating
moments of the Entertainment, was quite as much as an humble Clerk's
brain could hold.
There was a great deal of Music--that I do remember. Also that the
entertainment was termed an opera and that the name of the piece was
"The Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru." My omniscient Neighbour told me
presently that no doubt the Performance was an artful piece of Flattery
on the part of Bill (meaning, I suppose, Sir William Davenant) who, by
blackening the Spaniards, made Old Noll's tyranny appear like bountiful
Mercies.
But I did not like to hear our Lord Protector spoken of with such
levity. Moreover, my Neighbour's incessant Chatter distracted me from
the Stage.
What I do remember more vividly than anything else on that memorable Day
was your cry of delight when Mr. Betterton appeared upon the Stage. I
do not know if you had actually spoken with him before; I certainly had
never even seen him. Mr. Betterton was then apprenticed to Mr. Rhodes,
the Bookseller, and it was entirely against the Judgment and Wishes of
Mistress Euphrosine Baggs, his Sister, that he adopted the Stage as an
additional calling. I know that there were many high Words on that
subject between Mr. Betterton and Mistress Euphrosine, Mr. Rhodes
greatly supporting the young Man in his Desire, he having already
formulated schemes of his own for the management of a Theatre, and
extolling the virtues of the Actor's Art and the vastly lucrative State
thereof.
But Mistress Euphrosine would have none of it. Actors were Rogues and
Vagabonds, she said, ungodly Reprobates who were unfit, when dead, to be
buried in consecrated ground. She would never consent to seeing a
Brother of hers follow so disreputable a Calling. From high words it
came to an open Quarrel, and though I had been over a year in the House
of Mr. Theophilus Baggs, I had never until this day set eyes on young
Mr. Betterton.
He was not taking a very important part in the Opera, but there was no
denying the fact that as soon as he appeared upon the Stage his very
Presence did throw every other Actor into the shade. The Ladies in the
Boxes gave a deep sigh of content, gazing on him with admiring eyes and
bestowing loud Applause upon his every Word. And when Mr. Betterton
threw out his Arms with a gesture expressive of a noble Passion and
spoke the ringing lines: "And tell me then, ye Sons of England..."--his
beautiful Voice rising and falling with the perfect cadence of an
exquisite Harmony--the uproar of Enthusiasm became wellnigh deafening.
The Ladies clapped their Hands and waved their Handkerchiefs, the
Gentlemen stamped their feet upon the floor; and some, lifting their
Hats, threw them with a flourish upon the Stage, so that anon Mr.
Betterton stood with a score or more Hats all round his feet, and was
greatly perturbed as to how he should sort them out and restore them to
their rightful Owners.
Ah, it was a glorious Day! Nothing could mar the perfection of its
Course. No! not even the Rain which presently began to patter over the
Spectators, and anon fell in torrents, so that those who were in the Pit
had to beat a precipitate retreat, scrambling helter-skelter over the
Benches in a wild endeavour to get under cover.
This incident somewhat marred the Harmony of the Ending, because to see
Ladies and Gentlemen struggling and scrambling to climb from bench to
bench under a Deluge of Rain, was in truth a very droll Spectacle; and
the attention of those in the Boxes was divided between the Happenings
on the Stage and the antics of the rest of the Audience.
You and I, fair Mistress, up aloft in our humble place, were far better
sheltered than the more grand Folk in the Pit. I put your Cloak around
your Shoulders to protect You against the Cold, and thus sitting close
together, my knee still resting against yours, we watched the
Performance until the end.
5
How we went home that afternoon I do not remember. I know that it was
raining heavily and that we got very wet. But this caused me no
Inconvenience, because it gave me the privilege of placing my Arm round
your Shoulders so as to keep your Cloak from falling. Also my Mind was
too full of what I had seen to heed the paltry discomfort of a Wetting.
My thoughts were of the Play, the Music, the brilliant Assembly; yours,
Mistress, were of Mr. Betterton. Of him you prattled all the way home,
to the exclusion of every other Topic. And if your enthusiastic Eulogy
of that talented Person did at times send a pang of Sorrow through my
Heart, You at least were unaware of my Trouble. Not that I took no
share in your Enthusiasm. I did it whole-heartedly. Never had I
admired a Man before as I did Mr. Betterton on that Day. His Presence
was commanding, his Face striking, his Voice at times masterful and full
of Power, at others infinitely sweet. My officious and talkative
Neighbour, just before the Rain came down and rendered him dumb, had
remarked to me with a great air of Knowledge and of Finality: "Mark my
word, young Sir, England will hear something presently of Tommy
Betterton."
It was not until we reached the corner of Chancery Lane that we were
forced to descend to the Realities of Life. We had had a glorious Day,
and for many Hours had wholly forgotten the many Annoyances and
Discomforts with which our lives were beset. Now we were a little tired
and exceedingly wet. Mistress Euphrosine's Scoldings, our oft empty
stomachs, hard Beds and cheerless Lives loomed once more largely upon
the Horizon of our mental vision.
Our Pace began to slacken; your glib Tongue was stilled. Holding Hands
now, we hurried home in silence, our Minds stirred by a still vague
Sense of Fear.
Nor was that Fear unjustified, alas! as subsequent Events proved. No
sooner had We entered the House than We knew that We were discovered.
Mr. Baggs' cloak, hung up in the Hall, revealed the terrifying Fact that
he and his indomitable Spouse had unaccountably returned at this hour.
No doubt that the Weather was the primary cause of this untoward Event:
its immediate result was a Volley of abuse poured upon our Heads by
Mistress Euphrosine's eloquent Tongue. We were Reprobates, Spawns and
Children of the Devil! We were Liars and Cheats and Thieves! We had
deserved God's wrath and eternal punishment! Heavens above! how she did
talk! And we, alas! could not escape that vituperative Torrent.
We had fled into the Kitchen as soon as We had realised that we were
fairly caught; but Mistress Euphrosine had followed us thither and had
closed the door behind her. And now, standing facing Us, her large,
gaunt Body barring every egress, she talked and talked until You, fair
Mistress, gave way to a passionate Flood of tears.
All our Pleasure, our Joy, had vanished; driven hence by the vixenish
Tongue of a soured Harridan. I was beside myself with Rage. But for
your restraining influence, I could have struck that shrieking Virago,
and for ever after have destroyed what was the very Essence of my Life.
For she would have turned me out of Doors then and there, and I should
have been driven forth from your Presence, perhaps never to return.
The sight of your Patience and of your Goodness helped to deaden my
Wrath. I hung my Head and bit my Tongue lest it should betray me into
saying things which I should have regretted to the end of my Days.
And thus that memorable Day came to a close. Somehow, it stands before
my mind as would the first legible Page in the Book of my Life. Before
it, everything was blurred; but that Page is clear. I can read it now,
even after four years. For the first time, destiny had writ on it two
Names in bold, indelible Characters--yours, Mistress, and that of Mr.
Betterton. Henceforth, not a Day in my Life would pass without one of
You looming largely in its Scheme.
Mary Saunderson! Tom Betterton! My very pulses seem to beat to the
tune of those two Names! I knew then, by one of those subtle intuitions
which no Man has ever succeeded in comprehending, that Heaven itself had
intended You for one another. How then could I stand by and see the
Wickedness of Man striving to interfere with the decrees of God?
CHAPTER II
THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE
1
After that memorable Day, Mistress, we were like naughty Children who
were being punished for playing truant out of School. For Weeks and
Months our Lives went on with dreary monotony, with never a chance of
seeing Something of that outside World of which we had caught a glimpse.
You continued to sew and to scrub and to be at the beck and call of a
Scold. I went on copying legal Documents till my very Brain appeared
atrophied, incapable of a single happy Thought or of a joyous Hope.
Out there in the great World, many things were happening. The Lord
Protector died; his Son succeeded. And then England woke to the fact
that she had never cared for these Regicides, Republicans and Puritans;
that in her Heart she had always loved the martyred King and longed to
set his Son once more upon his Throne.
I often thought of my loquacious Neighbour at the Play, with his talk of
Old Noll and Master Richard and of George. For George Monk in truth had
become the Man of the hour; for he it was who was bringing King Charles
back into his Kingdom again.
Two years had gone by since our memorable Day at the Play, and as that
same Neighbour had also foretold, England was hearing a great deal about
Tom Betterton. His Name was on every one's lips. Mr. Rhodes, the
Bookseller, had obtained a licence from General Monk to get a Company of
Actors together, and the palmy Days of the Cockpit had begun. Then it
was that some faint Echo of the Life of our great City penetrated as far
as the dull Purlieus of Mr. Baggs' Household; then it was that the ring
of the Fame of Mr. Betterton even caused Mistress Euphrosine to recall
her former arbitrary Judgments.
Every one now was talking of her illustrious Brother. General Monk
himself had made a Friend of him, so had Sir John Grenville, who was the
King's own Envoy; and those who were in the know prophesied that His
Majesty Himself would presently honour the eminent Player with his
regard. My Lord Rochester was his intimate Friend; Sir George Etherege
was scarce ever seen in public without him. Lord Broghill had vowed
that the English Stage was made famous throughout the Continent of
Europe by the superlative excellence of Mr. Betterton.
To such Eulogies, coming from the most exalted Personages in the Land,
Mistress Euphrosine could not turn an altogether deaf Ear; and being a
Woman of character and ambition, she soon realised that her Antagonism
to her illustrious Brother not only rendered her ridiculous, but might
even prove a bar to Mr. Theophilus Baggs' Advancement.
The first Step towards a Reconciliation was taken when Mr. Baggs and his
Spouse went together to the Play to see Mr. Betterton act _Solyman_ in a
play called "The Siege of Rhodes." You and I, Mistress, were by great
favour allowed to go too, and to take our places in that same Gallery
where two Years previously You and I had spent such happy hours. We
spoke little to one another, I remember. Our hearts were full of
Memories; but I could see your brown Eyes lighten as soon as the eminent
Actor walked upon the Stage. The same Glamour which his personality had
thrown over You two years ago was still there. Nay! it was enhanced an
hundredfold, for to the magnetic presence of the Man was now added the
supreme Magic of the Artist. I am too humble a Scrivener, fair Lady, to
attempt to describe Mr. Betterton's acting, nor do I think that such Art
as his could be adequately discussed. Your enjoyment of it I did fully
share. You devoured him with your Eyes while he was on the Stage, and
the Charm of his Voice filled the crowded Theatre and silenced every
other sound. I knew that the World had ceased to exist for You and that
the mysterious and elusive god of Love had hit your Heart with his
wayward dart.
I thank God that neither then nor later did any feeling of Bitterness
enter into my Soul. Sad I was, but of a gentle Sadness which made me
feel mine own Unworthiness, even whilst I prayed that You might realise
your Heart's desire.
Strangely enough, it was at the very moment when I first understood the
state of your Feelings that mine eyes, a little dimmed with tears, were
arrested by the Sight of a young and beautiful Lady, who sat in one of
the Boxes, not very far from our point of vantage. I wondered then what
it was about her that thus enchained mine Attention. Of a truth, she
was singularly fair, of that dainty and translucent Fairness which I for
one have never been able to admire, but which is wont to set Men's
pulses beating with an added quickness--at least, so I've heard it said.
The Lady had blue Eyes, an exquisitely white Skin, her golden Hair was
dressed in the new modish Fashion, with quaint little Ringlets all
around her low, square Brow. The face was that of a Child, yet there
was something about the firm Chin, something about the Forehead and the
set of the Lips which spoke of Character and of Strength not often found
in one so young.
Immediately behind her sat a young Cavalier of prepossessing Appearance,
who obviously was whispering pleasing Words in the Lady's shell-like
ear. I confess that for the moment I longed for the presence of our
loquacious Neighbour of two years ago. He, without doubt, would have
known who the noble young Lady was and who was her attentive Cavalier.
Soon, however, the progress of the Play once more riveted mine Attention
upon the Stage, and I forgot all about the beautiful Lady until it was
time to go. Then I sought her with mine Eyes; but she had already gone.
And I, whilst privileged to arrange your Cloak around your shoulders,
realised how much more attractive brown Hair was than fair, and how
brilliant could be the sparkle of dark Eyes as against the more
languorous expression of those that are blue.
2
I was not present at the time that You, Mistress, first made the
acquaintance of Mr. Betterton. He came to the House originally for the
sole purpose of consulting with his Brother-in-law on a point of Law, he
having an idea of joining Sir William Davenant in the Management of the
new Theatre which that Gentleman was about to open in Lincoln's Inn
Fields.
The season in London promised to be very brilliant. His Majesty the
King was coming into his own once more. Within a Month or two at the
latest, he would land at Dover, and as even through his misfortunes and
exile he had always been a great Patron of the Arts of Drama and
Literature, there was no doubt that he would give his gracious Patronage
to such enterprises as Sir William Davenant and Mr. Killigrew, not to
mention others, had already in view.
No doubt that Sir William Davenant felt that no Company of Actors could
be really complete without the leadership of Mr. Betterton; and we all
knew that both he and Mr. Killigrew were literally fighting one another
to obtain the great Actor's services.
In the end, of course, it was Sir William who won, and thus Mr.
Betterton came to visit Mr. Theophilus Baggs to arrange for an Indenture
whereby he was to have a Share of the Profits derived from the
Performances at the new Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields.
You, Mistress, will remember that Day even better than I do, for to me
it only marked one more Stage on the dreary road of my uneventful Life,
whilst for You it meant the first Pearl in that jewelled Crown of
Happiness which Destiny hath fashioned for You. Mr. Baggs had sent me
on that day to Richmond, to see a Client of his there. Whether he did
this purposely, at the instance of Mistress Euphrosine, in order to get
me out of the way, I know not. In her Estimation I was supposed to have
leanings for the Actor's profession in those days--surely a foolish
Supposition, seeing how unprepossessing was my Appearance and how
mediocre my Intellect.
Without doubt, however, could she have read the Secrets of your Soul,
dear Mistress, she would have sent You on an errand too, to a remote
corner of England, or had locked You up in your Room, ere you came face
to face with the great Man whose Personality and Visage were already
deeply graven upon your Heart.
But her futile, unamiable Mind was even then torn between the desire to
make a brave show of Prosperity before her illustrious Brother and to
welcome him as the Friend and Companion of great Gentlemen, and the old
puritanical Spirit within her which still looked upon Actors as Rogues
and Vagabonds, Men upon whom God would shower some very special,
altogether terrible Curses because of their loose and immoral Lives.
Thus Mistress Euphrosine's treatment of the distinguished Actor was ever
contradictory. She did her best to make him feel that she despised him
for his Calling, yet nevertheless she fawned upon him because of his
connection with the Aristocracy. Even subsequently, when Mr. Betterton
enjoyed not only the Patronage but the actual Friendship of His Majesty
the King, Mistress Euphrosine's attitude towards him was always one of
pious scorn. He might be enjoying the protection of an earthly King,
but what was that in comparison with his Sister's intimacy with God? He
might consort with Dukes, but she would anon make one in a company of
Angels, amongst whom such Reprobates as Actors would never find a place.
That, I think, was her chief Attitude of Mind, one that caused me much
Indignation at the time; for I felt that I could have knelt down and
worshipped the heaven-born Genius who was delighting the whole Kingdom
with his Art. But Mr. Betterton, with his habitual kindliness and good
humour, paid no heed to Mistress Euphrosine's sour Disposition towards
him, and when she tried to wither him with lofty Speeches, he would
quickly make her ridiculous with witty Repartee.
He came more and more frequently to the House, and mine Eyes being
unusually sharp in such matters, I soon saw that You had wholly won his
regard. Those then became happy times. Happy ones for You, Mistress,
whose Love for a great and good Man was finding full Reciprocity. Happy
ones for him, who in You had found not only a loving Heart, but rare
understanding, and that great Talent which he then and there set himself
to develop. They were happy times also for me, the poor, obscure
Scrivener with the starved Heart and the dreary Life, who now was
allowed to warm his Soul in the Sunshine of your joint Happiness.
It was not long before Mr. Betterton noticed the profound Admiration
which I had for him, not long before he admitted me to his Friendship
and Intimacy. I say it with utmost pride, that I was the first one with
whom he discussed the question of your Career and to whom he confided
the fact that You had a conspicuous talent for the Stage, and that he
intended to teach and to train You until You could appear with him on
the Boards. You may imagine how this Idea staggered me at first--aye!
and horrified me a little. I suppose that something of the old
puritanical middle-class Prejudice had eaten so deeply into my Soul that
I could not be reconciled to the idea of seeing any Woman--least of all
you, Mistress--acting a part upon the Stage. Hitherto, young Mr.
Kynaston and other boy-actors had represented with perfect grace and
charm all the parts which have been written for Women; and I could not
picture to myself any respectable Female allowing herself to be kissed
or embraced in full view of a large Audience, or speaking some of those
Lines which our great Dramatists have thought proper to write.
But Mr. Betterton's Influence and his unanswerable Arguments soon got
the better of those old-fashioned Ideas, and anon I found myself looking
eagerly forward to the happy time when You would be freed from the
trammels of Mistress Euphrosine's Tyranny and, as the Wife and Helpmate
of the greatest Actor of our times, take your place beside him among the
Immortals.
3
It was not until the spring of the following Year that I first noticed
the cloud which was gathering over your happiness. Never shall I forget
the day when first I saw Tears in your Eyes.
You had finally decided by then to adopt the Stage as your Profession,
and at the instance of Mr. Betterton, Sir William Davenant had promised
You a small part in the new Play, wherewith he was about to open his new
Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields. The piece chosen was called "Othello,"
written by one William Shakespeare, and Sir William had finally decided
that the parts written in this Play by the Author for Women should be
enacted by Women; an arrangement which was even then being worked quite
successfully by Mr. Killigrew at his Theatre in Clare Market.
I knew that a brilliant Future lay before You; but Mistress Euphrosine,
who had constituted herself your Guardian and Mentor, tried in vain to
turn You from your Career. The day when You made your Decision was yet
another of those momentous ones which will never fade from my Memory.
You had hitherto been clever enough to evade Mistress Euphrosine's
Vigilance whilst you studied the Art of speaking and acting under the
guidance of Mr. Betterton. She thought that his frequent Visits to the
House were due to his Regard for her, whereas he came only to see You
and to be of service to You in the pursuit of your Studies.
But the time came when You had to avow openly what were your Intentions
with regard to the Future. Sir William Davenant's Theatre in Lincoln's
Inn Fields was to be opened in June, and You, Mistress, were, together
with his principal Actresses, to be boarded after that by him at his own
House, in accordance with one of the Provisions of the Agreement. The
Question arose as to where You should lodge, your poor Mother having no
home to offer You. Mistress Euphrosine made a great Show of her
Abhorrence of the Stage and all the Immorality which such a Career
implied. My cheeks blush with shame even now at the recollection of the
abominable language which she used when first You told her what You
meant to do, and my Heart is still filled with admiration at your
Patience and Forbearance with her under such trying circumstances.
Fortunately for us all, Mr. Betterton arrived in the midst of all this
wrangle. He soon succeeded in silencing Mistress Euphrosine's
exacerbating tongue, and this not so much by the magic of his Persuasion
as by the aid of the golden Key which is known to open every door--even
that which leads to a scolding Harridan's heart. Mr. Betterton offered
his Sister a substantial Sum of Money if she in return would undertake
to give You a comfortable lodging until such time as he himself would
claim You as his Wife. He stipulated that You should be made
comfortable and that no kind of menial work should ever be put upon You.
"Mistress Saunderson," he said impressively, "must be left absolutely
free to pursue her Art, unhampered by any other consideration."
Even so, Mistress Euphrosine could not restrain her malicious tongue,
and the whole equitable arrangement might even then have fallen through
but for your gentleness and quiet determination. Finally, Mistress
Euphrosine gave in. She accepted the liberal terms which her
illustrious Brother was offering her for your Maintenance, but she
reserved unto herself the right of terminating the Arrangement at her
will and pleasure. Obviously, she meant to be as disagreeable as she
chose; but You had to have a respectable roof over your head until such
time as You found a Haven under the aegis of your future Husband's Name.
After that, it seemed as if no cloud could ever come to obscure the
Heavens of your happiness. Nevertheless, it was very soon after that
Episode that I chanced upon You one evening, sitting in the parlour with
the Book of a Play before You, yet apparently not intent upon reading.
When I spoke your name You started as if out of a Dream and quickly You
put your handkerchief up to your eyes.
I made no remark then; it would have been insolence on my part to
intrude upon your private Affairs. But I felt like some faithful cur on
the watch.
For awhile dust was thrown in my eyes from the fact that Mr. Betterton
announced to us his projected trip abroad, at the instance of Sir
William Davenant, who desired him to study the Scenery and Decorations
which it seems were noted Adjuncts to the Stage over in Paris. If Mr.
Betterton approved of what he saw there, he was to bring back with him a
scheme for such Scenery to be introduced at the new Theatre in Lincoln's
Inn Fields, which would be a great triumph over Mr. Killigrew's
Management, where no such innovations had ever been thought of.
Naturally, Mr. Betterton, being a Man and an Artist, was eager and
excited over this journey, which showed what great confidence Sir
William Davenant reposed in his Judgment. This, methought, accounted
for the fact that You, Mistress, seemed so much more dejected at the
prospect of his Absence than he was. I also was satisfied that this
Absence accounted for your tears.
Fool that I was! I should have guessed!
Mr. Betterton was absent two months, during which time I oft chanced
upon You, dear Mistress, with a book lying unheeded on your lap and your
dark eyes glistening with unnatural brilliancy. But I still believed
that it was only Mr. Betterton's Absence that caused this sadness which
had of late fallen over your Spirits. I know that he did not write
often, and I saw--oh! quite involuntarily--that when his Letters came
they were unaccountably short.
Then, one day--it was in May--seeing You more than usually depressed, I
suggested that as the weather was so fine we should repair to the
Theatre in Clare Market, and there see Mr. Killigrew's company enact
"The Beggar's Bush," a play in which Major Mohun was acting the part of
_Bellamente_ with considerable success.
Had I but known what we were destined to see in that Theatre, I swear to
God that I would sooner have hacked off my right leg than to have taken
You thither. Yet We both started on our way, oblivious of what lay
before Us. Time had long since gone by when such expeditions had to be
done in secret. You, Mistress, were independent of Mistress
Euphrosine's threats and tantrums, and I had come to realise that my
Employer could nowhere else in the whole City find a Clerk who would do
so much for such very scanty pay, and that he would never dismiss me,
for fear that he would never again meet with such a willing Drudge.
So, the day being one on which Mr. Baggs and Mistress Euphrosine were
absenting themselves from home, I persuaded You easily enough to come
with me to the Play.
Your spirits had risen of late because you were expecting Mr.
Betterton's home-coming. In fact, You had received authentic news that
he would probably be back in England within the week.
4
At once, when I took my seat in the Gallery beside you, I noticed the
beautiful fair Lady in the Box, whom I had not seen since that
marvellous day a year ago, when you and I sat together at the Play. She
was more radiantly beautiful than ever before.
Discreet enquiries from my Neighbour elicited the information that she
was the Lady Barbara Wychwoode, daughter of the Marquis of Sidbury, and
the acknowledged Belle among the Debutantes of the season. I understood
that nothing had been seen of the Lady for the past year or more, owing
to the grave and lingering illness of her Mother, during the whole
course of which the young Girl had given up her entire life to the
tending of the Invalid.
Now that his Lordship was a Widower, he had insisted on bringing his
Daughter to London so that she might be brought to the notice of His
Majesty and take her place at Court and in Society, as it beseemed her
rank. That place the Lady Barbara conquered quickly enough, by her
Beauty, her Charm and her Wit, so much so that I was told that all the
young Gallants in the City were more or less over head and ears in love
with her, but that her affections had remained steadfastly true to the
friend and companion of her girlhood, the young Earl of Stour who, in
his turn had never swerved in his Allegiance and had patiently waited
for the day when her duty to her Mother would cease and her love for him
be allowed to have full sway.
All this, of course, sounded very pretty and very romantic; and you,
Mistress, gave ungrudging admiration to the beautiful girl who was the
cynosure of all eyes. She sat in the Box, in the company of an elderly
and distinguished Gentleman, who was obviously her Father, and of
another Man, who appeared to be a year or two older than herself and
whose likeness of features to her own proclaimed him to be her Brother.
At the rear of the box a number of brilliant Cavaliers had congregated,
who had obviously come in order to pay court to this acknowledged Queen
of Beauty. Foremost among these we noticed a tall, handsome young Man
whose noble features looked to me to suggest a somewhat weak yet
obstinate disposition. He was undeniably handsome: the huge, fair
periwig which he wore lent a certain manly dignity to his countenance.
We quickly came to the conclusion that this must be the Earl of Stour,
for it was obvious that the Lady Barbara reserved her most welcoming
smile and her kindliest glances for him.
The company in the Box kept us vastly amused for a time, in the
intervals of watching the Actors on the Stage; and I remember that
during the second Act the dialogue in the Play being somewhat dull, both
You and I fell to watching the Lady Barbara and her throng of Admirers.
Suddenly we noticed that all these Gentlemen gave way as if to a
New-comer who had just entered at the rear of the Box and was apparently
desirous of coming forward in order to pay his respects. At first we
could not see who the New-comer was, nor did we greatly care. The next
moment, however, he was behind the Lady Barbara's chair. Anon he
stooped forward in order to whisper something in her ear.
And I saw who it was.
It was Mr. Betterton.
For the moment, I remember that I felt as if I were paralysed; either
that or crazed. I could not trust mine eyes.
Then I turned my head and looked at You.
You too had seen and recognised. For the moment You did not move, but
sat rigid and silent. Your face had become a shade or two paler and
there was a scarce perceptible tremor of your lips.
But that was all. I alone knew that You had just received a stab in
your loving and trusting Heart, that something had occurred which would
for ever mar the perfect trustfulness of your early love ... something
which you would never forget.
5
You sat out the rest of the Play, dear Mistress, outwardly quite serene.
Never, I think, has my admiration for your Character and for your Worth
been more profound. I believe that I suffered almost as much as You. I
suffered because many things were made clear to me then that I had
ignored before. Your tears, your many Silences, that look of trustful
happiness now gone from your eyes. I understood that the Incident was
only the confirmation of what you had suspected long since.
But you would not let any one see your heart. No! not even me, your
devoted Bondsman, who would gladly die to save You from pain. Yet I
could not bring my heart to condemn Mr. Betterton utterly. I did not
believe even then that he had been unfaithful--led away no doubt by the
glamour of the society Beauty, by the talk and the swagger of all the
idle Gentlemen about town--but not unfaithful. His was not a Nature to
love more than the once, and he loved You, Mistress--loved You from the
moment that he set eyes on You, from the moment that he knew your Worth.
His fancy had perhaps been captured by the beautiful Lady Barbara, his
Heart wherein your image was eternally enshrined, had been momentarily
bewitched by her wiles; but he was not responsible for these
Actions--that I could have sworn even then.
Mr. Betterton is above all an Artist, and in my humble judgment Artists
are not to be measured by ordinary standards. Their mind is more
fanciful, their fancy more roving; they are the Butterflies of this
World, gay to look at and light on the wing.
You never told me, Mistress, what course You adopted after that eventful
afternoon; nor would I have ventured to pry into your secrets. That You
and Mr. Betterton talked the whole matter over, I make no doubt. I
could even tell You, methinks, on which day the heart to heart talk
between You took place. That there were no Recriminations on your part
I dare aver; also that Mr. Betterton received his final dismissal on
that day with a greater respect than ever for You in his Heart, and with
deep sorrow weighing upon his Soul.
After that, his visits to the house became more and more infrequent; and
at first You would contrive to be absent when he came. But, as I have
always maintained, his love for You still filled his innermost Being,
even though the Lady Barbara ruled over his fancy for the time. He
longed for your Presence and for your Friendship, even though at that
time he believed that You had totally erased his image from your Heart.
And so, when he came, and I had perforce to tell him that You were
absent, he would linger on in the hope that You would return, and he
would go away with a bitter sigh of regret whenever he had failed to
catch a glimpse of You.
You never told me in so many Words that you had definitely broken off
your Engagement to Mr. Betterton, nor do I believe that such was your
intention even then. Mistress Euphrosine certainly never realised that
You were smarting under so terrible a blow, and she still spoke glibly
of your forthcoming marriage.
It was indeed fortunate for You, fortunate for us all, that both she and
Mr. Baggs were too self-absorbed--he in his Business and she in her
Piety--and too selfish, to be aware of what went on around them. Their
self-absorption left You free to indulge in the luxury of suffering in
silence; and I was made almost happy at times by an occasional
surreptitious pressure of your Hand, a glance from your Eyes, telling me
that my Understanding and Sympathy were not wholly unwelcome.
CHAPTER III
A CRIMINAL FOLLY
1
In June, you made your debut upon the stage, dear Mistress. Though You
only played a small Part, your Grace and Charm soon won universal
approval. I have so often told You of my feelings, my hopes, my tremors
and my joy on the occasion when first I saw You upon the boards, that I
will not weary You with the re-telling of them once again. Securely
hidden behind a pillar, I only lived through the super-acuteness of my
Senses, which drank in your Presence from the moment when You stepped
out from behind the Curtain and revealed your gracious personality to an
admiring Audience.
As long as I live, every word which You spoke on that day will continue
to ring in mine ear, and ere mine eyes close for ever in their last long
Sleep, I shall see your exquisite Image floating dreamlike before their
gaze.
2
From that day onward, I saw you more seldom than I had been wont to do
before. Your Success at the new Theatre had been so pronounced that Sir
William Davenant soon entrusted You with more important parts. Thus
your time was greatly taken up both with Performances and with
Rehearsals and with the choosing and trying on of dresses. Of
necessity, your work threw you often in the company of Mr. Betterton, he
being the leading Actor in Sir William's Company, and the most popular
as he was the most eminent of His Majesty's Well-Beloved Servants. In
fact, his Fame at this time was reaching its Apogee. He was reckoned
one of the Intimates of His Majesty himself; Gentlemen and Noblemen
sought his company; great Ladies were zealous to win his favours.
Needless to say that concurrently with his rise to pre-eminence, an army
of Enemies sprung up around him. Hungry curs will ever bay at the moon.
Set a cat upon a high post and in a moment others will congregate down
below and spit and yowl at their more fortunate kind. Scandal and
spite, which had never been so rife as in these days, fastened
themselves like evil tentacles on Mr. Betterton's fair Name.
He was too proud to combat these, and You too proud to lend an ear to
them. You met him now upon an easy footing of Friendship, of gentle
gratitude as of a successful Pupil towards a kindly Teacher. To any one
who did not know You as I do, You must at that time have seemed
completely happy. You were independent now, earning a good salary,
paying Mistress Euphrosine liberally for the lodgings which she placed
at your disposal; free to come and go as You pleased, to receive the
visits of Gentlemen who were desirous of paying their respects to You.
You were, in fact, Mistress Saunderson, the well-known Actress, who was
busy climbing--and swiftly, too--the Ladder of Fame.
Of your proposed Marriage with Mr. Betterton there was of course no
longer any talk. For some reason best known to herself, and which I
myself never tried to fathom, even Mistress Euphrosine had ceased to
speak of it.
Did she, within the depths of her ambitious and avaricious Heart,
harbour the belief that her Brother would one day wed one of those great
Ladies, who were wont to hang entranced upon his lips, when he spoke the
immortal words of the late Mr. William Shakespeare or of Mr. John
Dryden? I know not; nor what benefit she would have derived from it if
such an unlikely Event had indeed taken place.
Towards me, she was still frigidly contemptuous. But as to that, I did
not care. I was determined to endure her worst gibes for the sake of
dwelling under the same roof which still had the privilege of sheltering
You.
3
It was one day early in September--just something over a year ago, in
fact--that my Lord Stour called at the house of Mr. Theophilus Baggs. I
knew him at once for the Cavalier who was ever in attendance upon the
Lady Barbara Wychwoode and whom rumour had assigned to her as her future
Husband.
Frankly, I had never liked him from the first. I thought him overbearing
and arrogant. His manner towards those who were inferior to him in
station was always one of contempt. And I often wondered how Mr.
Theophilus Baggs, who was an Attorney of some standing in the City of
London, could endure the cool insolence wherewith young Gentlemen like
my Lord Stour and others were wont to treat him. Not only that, but he
seemed to derive a sort of gratification from it, and was wont to
repeat--I was almost going to say that he would boast of--these acts of
overbearance to which he was so often subjected.
"Another of the stiff-necked sort," he would say after he had bowed one
of these fine Gentlemen obsequiously out of his office. "An honest,
God-fearing Man is as dirt beneath the feet of these Gallants."
My Lord Stour, of a truth, was no exception to the rule. I have since
been assured that he was quite kindly and gracious in himself, and that
his faults were those of the Milieu in which he had been brought up,
rather than of himself.
Of course, You, dear Mistress, were out of the house during the whole of
that never-to-be-forgotten day of which I am about to speak, and
therefore knew nothing of the terrible Event which then occurred and
which, in my humble judgment, completely revolutionized Mr. Betterton's
character for the time being. But Fate had decreed that I should see it
all. Every moment of that awful afternoon is indelibly graven upon my
Memory. I had, however, neither the Chance nor the Opportunity to speak
to You of it all. At first I did not think that it would be expedient.
The humiliation which Mr. Betterton was made to endure on that day was
such that I could not bear to speak of it, least of all to You, who
still held him in such high esteem. And later on, I still thought it
best to be silent. Mr. Betterton and You seemed to have drifted apart
so completely, that I did not feel that it would do any good to rake up
old hurts, and to submit them to the cruel light of day.
But now everything is changed. The Lady Barbara's influence over Mr.
Betterton has gone, never to return; whilst his Heart once more yearns
for the only true Love which has ever gladdened it.
4
My Lord Stour came to call upon Mr. Theophilus Baggs at three o'clock of
the afternoon. Kathleen, the maid of all work, opened the door to him,
and Mistress Euphrosine received him in the Parlour, where I was also
sitting at my desk, engaged in copying out a lengthy Indenture.
"Master Baggs awaits me, I think," my Lord said as he entered the room.
Mistress Euphrosine made a deep curtsey, for she was ever fond of the
Aristocracy.
"Will you deign to enter, my Lord?" she said. "My husband will wait upon
your pleasure."
"Tell him to be quick, then," said my Lord; "for I have not a great deal
of time to spare."
He seated himself beside the table and drew off his gloves. He had
taken absolutely no notice of my respectful salutation.
Mistress Euphrosine sailed out of the room and a moment or two later Mr.
Baggs came in, carrying a sheaf of papers and looking very fussy and
obsequious.
My Lord did not rise to greet him, only turned his head in his direction
and said curtly:
"You are Mr. Theophilus Baggs, Attorney-at-law?"
"At your Lordship's service," replied my employer.
"Brother-in-law of Tom Betterton, the Actor, so I am told," my Lord went
on with quiet condescension.
This innocent remark, however, appeared to upset Mr. Baggs. He
stammered and grew as red as a turkey-cock, not realizing that his
connection with the great Actor was truly an honour upon his Name. He
hemmed and hawed and looked unutterably foolish, as he mumbled
confusedly:
"Er ... that is ... only occasionally, my Lord ... very occasionally, I
may say ... that is ... I..."
"Pray calm yourself," broke in my Lord haughtily. "I admire the
fellow's acting ... the Man himself does not exist for me."
"You are most gracious, my Lord," murmured Mr. Baggs promptly, whilst I
could have struck him for his obsequiousness and his Lordship for his
arrogance.
It seems that the matter which had brought Lord Stour to Mr. Baggs'
office was one of monies connected with the winding-up of the affairs of
the late Earl, uncle of the present Peer. I was busy with my work
during the time that these affairs were being discussed and did not pay
much heed to the conversation. Only two fragments thereof struck mine
ear. I remember, chiefly because they were so characteristic of the two
men--the Aristocrat and the Plebeian--and of the times in which we live.
At one time Mr. Baggs ventured to enquire after the health of the
Honourable Mrs. Stourcliffe, his Lordship's mother; and you should have
heard the tone of frigid pride wherewith my Lord seemed to repel any
such presumptuous enquiries.
The other fragment which I overheard was towards the end of the
interview, when Mr. Theophilus Baggs, having counted over the Money
before his Lordship, placed a Paper before him and bade me bring him a
pen.
"What's this?" queried my Lord, astonished.
"Oh!" Mr. Baggs stammered, with his habitual humility of demeanour, "a
mere formality, my Lord ... er ... h'm ... only a ... er ... receipt."
"A receipt?" my Lord asked, with an elevation of his aristocratic brows.
"What for?"
"Er ... er..." Mr. Baggs stammered. "For the monies, my Lord. That is
... er ... if you will deign to count it over yourself ... and see that
it is correct."
At this, my Lord rose from his seat, waved me aside, took and pocketed
the money. Then he said coolly to Mr. Baggs:
"No, Sir; I do not care to count. My Uncle knew You to be honest, or he
would not have placed his affairs in your hands. That is sufficient for
me. I, on the other hand, have received the money.... That is
sufficient for You."
"But----!" ejaculated Mr. Baggs, driven out of his timidity by such
summary procedure.
"Egad, Sir!" broke in my Lord, more haughtily than before. "Are you
perchance supposing that I might claim money which I have already had?"
"No ... no!" protested Mr. Baggs hastily. "I assure you, my Lord ... er
... that it is ... h'm ... a mere formality ... and..."
"My word," retorted my Lord coolly, "is sufficient formality."
Whereupon he turned to the door, taking no more notice of me than if I
were the doormat. He nodded to Mr. Baggs, who was of a truth too deeply
shaken to speak, and with a curt "I wish you good-day, Mr. Notary!"
strode out of the room.
I doubt not, Mistress, that You and many others of gentle Manners if not
of gentle Birth, would think that in recounting this brief interview
between my employer and the young Earl of Stour, I have been guilty of
exaggeration in depicting my Lord's arrogance. Yet, on my word, it all
occurred just as I have told it. No doubt that Mr. Baggs'
obsequiousness must have been irritating, and that it literally called
forth the haughty Retort which otherwise might have remained unspoken.
I myself, humble and insignificant as I am, have oft felt an almost
uncontrollable impulse to kick my worthy Employer into some measure of
manliness.
For let me assure You that, though subsequently I became more closely
acquainted with my Lord Stour, I never heard him use such haughty
language to any of his Dependents, nor do I think that so gentle a Lady
as Lady Barbara Wychwoode would have bestowed her fondness and regard
upon him had his Nature been as supercilious and as insolent as his
Words.
5
That afternoon was indeed destined to be fuller of events than I ever
could have anticipated. No sooner had I closed the door upon my Lord
Stour, when I heard footsteps ascending the stairs, and then my Lord's
voice raised once more, this time with a tone of pleasure mingled with
astonishment.
"Wychwoode, by gad!" he exclaimed. "And what in Heaven's name have you
come to do in the old fox's lair?"
I did not hear the immediate reply. More fussy than ever, Mr. Baggs had
already signed to me to reopen the door.
"Lord Douglas Wychwoode," he murmured hurriedly in my ear. "One of the
younger sons of the Marquis of Sidbury. I am indeed fortunate to-day.
The scions of our great Nobility do seek my help and counsel..." and
more such senseless words did he utter, whilst the two young Gentlemen
paused for a moment upon the landing, talking with one another.
"I thought you still in France," Lord Douglas said to his friend. "What
hath brought you home so unexpectedly?"
"I only arrived this morning," the other replied; "and hoped to present
my respects this evening, if your Father and the Lady Barbara will
receive me."
"Indeed, they'll be delighted. _Cela va sans dire_, my friend. My
sister has been rather pensive of late. Your prolonged absence may have
had something to do with her mood."
"May you speak the truth there!" my Lord Stour remarked with a sigh.
"But now you have not told me," rejoined Lord Douglas, as he and his
friend finally went into the room and curtly acknowledged Mr. Baggs'
reiterated salutations, "what hath brought you to the house of this
bobbing old Thief yonder."
"Private business," replied Lord Stour. "And you?"
"The affairs of England," said the other, and tossed his head proudly
like some young Lion scenting battle.
Before his friend could utter another remark, Lord Douglas strode
rapidly across the room, took some papers out of the inner pocket of his
coat, and called to Mr. Baggs to come up closer to him.
"I want," he said in a quick and peremptory whisper, "a dozen copies of
this Deed done at once and by a sure hand. Can you do it?"
"Yes, I think so," replied Mr. Baggs. "May I see what the paper is?"
I was watching the pair of them; so was my Lord Stour. On his face
there came a sudden frown as of disapproval and anxiety.
"Wychwoode----!" he began.
But the other did not heed him. His eyes--which were so like those of
his Sister--were fixed with an eager, questioning gaze upon my Employer.
The latter's face was absolutely expressionless and inscrutable whilst
he scanned the paper which Lord Douglas, after a scarce perceptible
moment of hesitation, had handed to him for perusal.
"Yes," he said quietly, when he had finished reading. "It can be done."
"At once?" asked Lord Douglas.
"At once. Yes, my Lord."
"By a sure hand?"
"Discretion, my Lord," replied Mr. Baggs, with the first show of dignity
I have ever seen him display, "is a virtue in my profession, the failing
in which would be a lasting disgrace."
"I rely even more upon your convictions, Mr. Baggs," Lord Douglas
rejoined earnestly, "than upon your virtues."
"You and your friends, my Lord, have deigned to talk those matters over
with me many a time before. You and they know that You can count on
me."
Mr. Baggs spoke with more Quietude and Simplicity than was his wont when
dealing with some of these noble Lords. You may be sure, dear Mistress,
that I was vastly astonished at what I heard, still more at what I
guessed. That Mr. Baggs and his Spouse belonged to the old Puritan
Party which had deplored the Restoration of the Kingship, I knew well
enough. I knew that both he and Mistress Euphresine looked with
feelings akin to horror upon a system of Government which had for its
supreme head a King, more than half addicted to Popery and wholly to
fast living, with women, gambling and drinking all the day. But what I
had never even remotely guessed until now was that he had already lent a
helping hand to those numerous Organisations, which had for their object
the overthrow of the present loose form of Government, if not that of
the Monarchy itself.
I did not know, in fact, that beneath a weak and obsequious exterior, my
Employer hid the stuff of which dangerous Conspirators are often made.
For the nonce, however, I imagine that he contented himself with writing
out Deeds and Proclamations for the more important Malcontents, of whom
apparently my Lord Douglas Wychwoode was one. He had never taken me
into his confidence, even though he must have known that he could always
rely upon my Discretion. What caused him to trust me now more than he
had done before, I do not know. Perhaps he had come to a final decision
to throw in his lot with the ultra-Protestant party, who viewed with
such marked disfavour the projects of the King's marriage with the
Popish Princess of Portugal. Certain it is that he came to me without
any hesitation with the Papers which Lord Douglas had just entrusted to
him, and that he at once ordered me to make the twelve copies which his
Lordship desired.
I retired within the window-recess which You know so well, and wherein I
am wont to sit at my copying work. Mr. Baggs then set me to my task,
after which he drew the screen across the recess, so that I remained
hidden from the view of those who were still in the room. I set to with
a Will, for my task was a heavy one. Twelve copies of a Manifesto,
which in itself covered two long pages.
A Manifesto, in truth!
I could scarce believe mine eyes as I read the whole rambling, foolish,
hot-headed Rigmarole. Did I not have the Paper actually in my hand, had
I not seen Lord Douglas Wychwoode handing it himself over to Mr. Baggs,
I could not have believed that any Men in their sober senses could have
lent a hand to such criminal Folly.
Folly it was; and criminal to boot!
The whole matter is past History now, and there can be no harm in my
relating it when so much of it hath long ago been made public.
That Manifesto was nothing more or less than an Appeal to certain
Sympathizers to join in one of the maddest enterprises any man could
conceive. It seems that my Lady Castlemaine's house was to be kept
watched by Parties of these same Conspirators, until one night when the
King paid her one of his customary evening Visits. Then the signal was
to be given, the House surrounded, my Lady Castlemaine kidnapped, His
Majesty seized and forced to abdicate in favour of the young Duke of
Monmouth, who would then be proclaimed King of England, with the Prince
of Orange as Regent.
Now, have you ever heard of anything more mad? I assure You that I was
literally staggered, and as my Pen went wearily scratching over the
Paper I felt as if I were in a dream, seeing before me visions of what
the end of such a foolish Scheme would be: the Hangman busy, the Prisons
filled, sorrow and desolation in many homes that had hoped to find peace
at last after the turmoil of the past twenty years. For the appeals
were directed to well accredited people outside London, some of whom
were connected with the best known Families in the Country. I must, of
course, refrain from mentioning names that have been allowed to fall
into oblivion in connection with the affair; but You, dear Mistress,
would indeed be astonished if You heard them now.
And what caused me so much worry, whilst I wrote on till my hand felt
cramped and stiff, was mine own Helplessness in the matter. What could
I do, short of betraying the trust which was reposed in me?--and this,
of course, was unthinkable.
I wrote on, feeling ever more dazed and dumb. From the other side of the
screen the Voices of the two young Gentlemen came at times to mine ear
with unusual clearness, at others only like an intermittent hum. Mr.
Baggs had apparently left the room, and the others had no doubt become
wholly oblivious of my Presence. Lord Douglas Wychwoode had told his
Friend something of his madcap Schemes; his voice sounded both eager and
enthusiastic. But my Lord Stour demurred.
"I am a Soldier," he said at one time; "not a Politician."
"That's just it!" the other argued with earnestness. "It is Men like
you that we want. We must crush that spendthrift Wanton who holds the
King in her thrall, and we must force a dishonoured Monarch to give up
the Crown of England to one who is worthier to wear it, since he
himself, even in these few brief months, has already covered it with
infamy."
"You have set yourself a difficult task, my friend," my Lord Stour urged
more soberly; "and a dangerous one, too."
"Only difficult and dangerous," retorted Lord Douglas, "whilst such Men
as you still hold aloof."
"I tell you, I am no Politician," his Friend rejoined somewhat
impatiently.
"But You are a Man, and not a senseless profligate--an earnest
Protestant, who must loathe that cobweb of Popery which overlies the
King's every Action, and blurs his vision of duty and of dignity."
"Yes--but----"
Then it was that Lord Douglas, with great patience and earnestness, gave
to his Friend a detailed account of his criminal Scheme--for criminal it
was, however much it might be disguised under the cloak of patriotism
and religious fervour. How Lord Stour received the communication, I
could not say. I had ceased to listen and was concentrating my mind on
my uncongenial task. Moreover, I fancy that Lord Stour did not say
much. He must have disapproved of it, as any right-minded Man would,
and no doubt tried his best to bring Lord Douglas to a more rational
state of mind. But this is mere conjecture on my part, and, of course,
I could not see his face, which would have been a clear index to his
thoughts. At one time I heard him exclaim indignantly:
"But surely You will not entrust the distribution of those Manifestos,
which may cost you your head, to that obsequious and mealy-mouthed
notary?"
Mr. Baggs should have heard the contempt wherewith my Lord uttered those
words! It would have taught him how little regard his servile ways had
won for him, and how much more thoroughly would he have been respected
had he adopted a more manly bearing towards his Clients, however highly
these may have been placed.
After this, Lord Douglas Wychwoode became even more persuasive and
eager. Perhaps he had noted the first signs of yielding in the Attitude
of his Friend.
"No, no!" he said. "And that is our serious trouble. I and those who
are at one with me feel that we are surrounded with spies. We do want a
sure Hand--a Hand that will not err and that we can trust--to distribute
the Manifestos, and, if possible, to bring us back decisive Answers.
Some of the Men with whom we wish to communicate live at some
considerable distance from town. We only wish to approach influential
people; but some of these seldom come to London; in fact, with the
exception of the Members of a venal Government and of a few effete Peers
as profligate as the King himself, but few Men, worthy of the name, do
elect to live in this degenerate City."
His talk was somewhat rambling; perhaps I did not catch all that he
said. After awhile Lord Stour remarked casually:
"And so You thought of me as your possible Emissary?"
"Was I wrong?" retorted Lord Douglas hotly.
"Nay, my friend," rejoined the other coldly. "I am honoured by this
trust which You would place in me; but----"
"But You refuse?" broke in Lord Douglas with bitter reproach.
I imagine that my Lord Stour's reply must have been an unsatisfactory
one to his Friend, for the latter uttered an exclamation of supreme
impatience. I heard but little more of their conversation just then, for
the noise in the Street below, which had been attracting my Attention on
and off for some time, now grew in intensity, and, curious to know what
it portended, I rose from my chair and leaned out of the window to see
what was happening.
From the window, as You know, one gets a view of the corner of our
Street as it debouches into Fleet Street by the _Spread Eagle_ tavern,
and even the restricted View which I thus had showed me at once that
some kind of rioting was going on. Not rioting of an ordinary kind, for
of a truth we who live in the heart of the City of London are used to
its many cries; to the "Make way there!" of the Sedan Chairman and the
"Make room there!" of the Drivers of wheel-barrows, all mingling with
the "Stand up there, you blind dog!" bawled by every Carman as he tries
to squeeze his way through the throngs in the streets.
No! this time it seemed more than that, and I, who had seen the crowds
which filled the Streets of London from end to end on the occasion of
the death of the Lord Protector, and had seen the merry-makers who had
made those same streets impassable when King Charles entered London a
little more than a year ago, I soon realized that the Crowd which I saw
flocking both up and down Fleet Street was in an ugly mood.
At first I thought that some of those abominable vagabonds from
Whitefriars--those whom we call the Alsatians, and who are in perpetual
conflict with the law--had come out in a body from their sink of
iniquity close by and had started one of their periodical combats with
the Sheriffs' Officers; but soon I recognized some faces familiar to me
among the crowd as they ran past the corner--Men, Women and Boys who,
though of a rough and turbulent Character, could in no way be confounded
with the law-breaking Alsatians.
There was, for instance, the Tinker, whom I knew well by sight. He was
running along, knocking his skillets and frying-pans against one another
as he passed, shouting lustily the while. Then there was a sooty
chimney-sweep, whom I knew to be an honest Man, and the broom Men with
their Boys, and many law-abiding Pedestrians who, fearful of the crowd,
were walking in the traffic way, meekly giving the wall to the more
roisterous throng. They all seemed to be a part of that same Crowd
which was scampering and hurrying up and down Fleet Street, shouting and
causing a disturbance such as I do not remember ever having seen before.
I should have liked to have gazed out of the Window until I had
ascertained positively what the noise was about; but I remembered that
my task was only half-accomplished and that I had at the least another
half-dozen Manifestos to write out. I was on the point of sitting down
once more to my Work when I heard Lord Douglas Wychwoode's voice quite
close to the screen, saying anxiously, as if in answer to some remark
made by his friend:
"I trust not. My Sister is out in her chair somewhere in this
neighbourhood, and only with her two Bearers."
Apparently the two Gentlemen's attention had also been arrested by the
tumult. The next moment Mr. Theophilus Baggs came in, and immediately
they both plied him simultaneously with questions. "What were those
strange cries in the street? Was there likely to be a riot? What was
the cause of the tumult?" All of which Mr. Baggs felt himself unable to
answer. In the end, he said that he would walk down to the corner of
the Street and ascertain what was happening.
Ensconced within the window recess and hidden from view by the screen, I
soon gave up all attempt at continuing my work. Somehow, the two
Gentlemen's anxiety about the Lady Barbara had communicated itself to
me. But my thoughts, of course, were of You. Fortunately for my peace
of mind, I knew that You were safe; at some distance, in fact, from the
scene of the present tumult. Nevertheless, I had already made up my
mind that if the rioting spread to the neighbouring streets, I would
slip out presently and go as far as Dorset Gardens, where you were busy
at rehearsal, and there wait for you until you came out of the Theatre,
when, if you were unattended, I could escort you home.
I could not myself have explained why the Noise outside and the obvious
rough temper of the People should have agitated me as they undoubtedly
did.
Anon, Mr. Baggs returned with a veritable sackful of news.
"There is a great tumult all down the neighbourhood," said he, "because
Lady Castlemaine is even now at the India House drinking tea, and a lot
of rowdy folk have made up their minds to give her a rough welcome when
she comes out. She is not popular just now, my Lady Castlemaine," Mr.
Baggs continued complacently, as he gave a look of understanding to Lord
Douglas Wychwoode, "And I fancy that she will experience an unpleasant
quarter of an hour presently."
"But, surely," protested my Lord Stour, "a whole mob will not be allowed
to attack a defenceless woman, however unpopular she may be!"
"Oh, as to that," rejoined Mr. Baggs with an indifferent shrug of the
shoulders, "a London mob is not like to be squeamish when its temper is
aroused; and just now, when work is scarce and food very dear, the sight
of her Ladyship's gorgeous liveries are apt to exasperate those who have
an empty stomach."
"But what will they do to her?" urged my Lord, whose manly feelings were
evidently outraged at the prospect of seeing any Woman a prey to an
angry rabble.
"That I cannot tell you, my Lord," replied Mr. Baggs. "The crowd hath
several ways of showing its displeasure. You know, when a Frenchman or
some other Foreigner shows his face in the Streets of London, how soon
he becomes the butt of passing missiles. The sweep will leave a sooty
imprint upon his coat; a baker's basket will cover him with dust; at
every hackney-coach stand, some facetious coachman will puff the froth
of his beer into his face. Well! you may draw your own conclusions, my
Lord, as to what will happen anon, when my Lady Castlemaine hath
finished drinking her dish of tea!"
"But surely no one would treat a Lady so?" once more ejaculated my Lord
Stour hotly.
"Perhaps not," retorted Mr. Baggs drily. "But then you, see, my Lord,
Lady Castlemaine is ... Well; she is Lady Castlemaine ... and at the
corner of our street just now I heard murmurs of the Pillory or even
worse for her----"
"But this is monstrous--infamous----!"
"And will be well deserved," here broke in Lord Douglas decisively.
"Fie on You, Friend, to worry over that baggage, whilst we are still in
doubt if my Sister be safe."
"Yes!" murmured Lord Stour, with a sudden note of deep solicitude in his
voice. "My God! I was forgetting!"
He ran to the window--the one next to the recess where I still remained
ensconced--threw open the casement and gazed out even more anxiously
than I had been doing all along. Mr. Baggs in the meanwhile endeavoured
to reassure Lord Douglas.
"If," he said, "her Ladyship knows that your Lordship hath come here to
visit me, she may seek shelter under my humble roof."
"God grant that she may!" rejoined the young Man fervently.
We all were on tenterhooks, I as much as the others; and we all gazed
out agitatedly in the direction of Fleet Street. Then, all at once, my
Lord Stour gave a cry of relief.
"There's the chaise!" he exclaimed. "It has just turned the corner of
this street.... No! not that way, Douglas ... on your right.... That is
Lady Barbara's chaise, is it not?"
"Yes, it is!" ejaculated the other. "Thank Heaven, her man Pyncheon has
had the good sense to bring her here. Quick, Mr. Notary!" he added.
"The door!"
The next moment a Sedan chair borne by two men in handsome liveries of
blue and silver came to a halt just below. Already Mr. Baggs had
hurried down the stairs. He would, I know, yield to no one in the
privilege of being the first to make the Lady Barbara welcome in his
House. The Excitement and Anxiety were momentarily over, and I could
view quite composedly from above the beautiful Lady Barbara as she
stepped out of her Chair, a little flurried obviously, for she clasped
and unclasped her cloak with a nervy, trembling hand.
A second or two later, I heard her high-heeled shoes pattering up the
stairs, whilst her Men with the Chair sought refuge in a quiet tavern
higher up in Chancery Lane.
CHAPTER IV
MORE THAN A PASSING FANCY
1
I would that You, fair Mistress, had seen the Lady Barbara Wychwoode as
I beheld her on that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon, her Cheeks of a
delicate pallor, her golden Hair slightly disarranged, her Lips
trembling with excitement. You, who are so inexpressibly beautiful,
would have been generous enough to give ungrudging Admiration to what
was so passing fair.
She was panting a little, for obviously she had been scared, and clung
to her Brother as if for protection. But I noticed that directly she
entered the room her Eyes encountered those of my Lord Stour, and that
at sight of him a happy smile at once over-spread and illumined her
Face.
"I am so thankful, Douglas, dear," she said, "that Pyncheon happened to
know you were here. He also knew the way to Mr. Baggs' house, and as
soon as he realized that the crowd in Fleet Street was no ordinary one,
he literally took to his heels and brought me along here in amazingly
quick time. But, oh!" she added lightly, "I can tell You that I was
scared. My heart went thumping and I have not yet recovered my breath."
Her cheeks now had become suffused with a blush and her blue eyes
sparkled, more with excitement than fear, I imagined. Certain it is
that her Beauty was enhanced thereby. But Lord Douglas, with a
Brother's privilege, shrugged his shoulders and said with a show of
banter:
"Methinks, Babs, dear, that your heart hath chiefly gone a-thumping
because you are surprised at finding Stour here."
She gave a gay little laugh--the laugh of one who is sure of Love and of
Happiness; the same laugh, dear Mistress, for which I have hearkened of
late in vain from You.
"I only arrived in London this morning," my Lord Stour explained.
"And hastened to pay your respects to the law rather than to me," Lady
Barbara taunted him lightly.
"I would not have ventured to present myself at this hour," he rejoined.
"And, apparently, would have found the Lady Barbara from home."
"So a beneficent Fairy whispered to You to go and see Mr. Notary, and
thus arranged everything for the best."
"The beneficent Fairy had her work cut out, then," Lord Douglas
remarked, somewhat impatiently, I thought.
"How do you mean?" she retorted.
"Why," said he, "in order to secure this tryst, the beneficient Fairy
had first to bring me hither as well as Stour, and Lady Castlemaine to
the India House. Then she had to inflame the temper of a whole Crowd of
Roisterers sufficiently to cause the worthy Pyncheon to take to his
heels, with you in the chair. In fact, the good Fairy must have been to
endless trouble to arrange this meeting 'twixt Lady Barbara and her
Lover, when but a few hours later that same meeting would have come
about quite naturally."
"Nay, then!" she riposted with perfect good humour, "let us call it a
happy Coincidence, and say no more about it."
Even then her Brother uttered an angry exclamation. He appeared
irritated by the placidity and good humour of the others. His nerves
were evidently on edge, and while my Lord Stour, with the egoism
peculiar to Lovers, became absorbed in whispering sweet nothings in Lady
Barbara's ears, Lord Douglas took to pacing up and down the Room like
some impatient Animal.
I watched the three of them with ever-growing interest. Being very
sensitive to outward influences, I was suddenly obsessed with the
feeling that through some means or other these three Persons, so far
above me in station, would somehow become intermixed with my Life, and
that it had suddenly become my Duty to watch them and to listen to what
they were saying.
I had no desire to pry upon them, of course; so I pray You do not
misunderstand nor condemn me for thus remaining hidden behind the screen
and for not betraying my Presence to them all. Certainly my Lord Stour
and Lord Douglas Wychwoode had known at one time that I was in the Room.
They had seen me installed in the window-recess, with the treasonable
Manifestos which I had been set to copy. But since then the two
Gentlemen had obviously become wholly oblivious of my Presence, and the
Lady Barbara did not of course even know of my Existence, whilst I did
not feel disposed to reveal myself to any of them just yet.
2
Lord Douglas, thereafter, was for braving the Rioters and for returning
home. But Lady Barbara and Lord Stour, feeling happy in one another's
Company, were quite content to bide for a time under Mr. Baggs'
sheltering roof.
"You must have patience, Douglas," she said to her Brother. "I assure
you that the Streets are not safe. Some rowdy Folk have set themselves
to attacking every chair they see and tearing the gold and silver lace
from the Chairmen's liveries. Even the side-streets are thronged.
Pyncheon will tell you of the difficulty he had in bringing me here."
"But we cannot wait until night!" Lord Douglas urged impatiently.
"No!" said she. "Only an hour or two. As soon as the people have seen
Lady Castlemaine and have vented their wrath on her, they will begin to
disperse, chiefly into the neighbouring Taverns, and then we can slip
quietly away."
"Or else," broke in Lord Stour hotly, "surely the watchmen will come
anon and disperse that rabble ere it vents its spite upon a defenceless
Woman!"
"A defenceless Woman, you call her, my Lord?" Lady Barbara retorted
reproachfully. "She is the most dangerous Enemy England hath at this
moment!"
"You are severe, Lady Barbara----"
"Severe!" she exclaimed, with a vehement tone of resentment. "Ah! you
have been absent, my Lord. You do not know--You do not understand! Over
abroad You did not realise the Misery, the Famine, that is stalking our
land. Money that should be spent on reclaiming our Industries, which
have suffered through twenty years of civil strife, or in helping the
poor to tide over these years of lean Harvests, is being lavished by an
irresponsible Monarch upon a greedy Wanton, who----"
"Barbara!"
She paused, recalled to herself by the stern voice of her Brother. She
had allowed her Indignation to master her maidenly reserve. Her cheeks
were aflame now, her lips quivering with Passion. Of a truth, she was a
Woman to be admired, for, unlike most of her sex, she had profound
feelings of Patriotism and of Charity; she had valour, enthusiasm,
temperament, and was not ashamed to speak what was in her mind. I
watched my Lord Stour while she spoke, and saw how deeply he worshipped
her. Now she encountered his Gaze, and heavy tears came into her Eyes.
"Ah, my Lord," she said gently, "you will see sadder sights in the
Streets of London to-day than ever you did in the Wars after the
fiercest Battles."
"'Tis no use appealing to him, Babs," Lord Douglas interposed with
obvious exacerbation. "A moment ago I told him of our Plans. I begged
him to lend us his sword and his hand to strike a blow at the Profligacy
and Wantonness which is sending England to perdition worse than ever
before----"
Lady Barbara turned great, reproachful eyes on my Lord.
"And you refused?" she whispered.
My Lord looked confused. All at once, I knew that he was already
wavering. A weak Man, perhaps; he was deeply, desperately enamoured. I
gathered that he had not seen the Lady Barbara for some months. No
doubt his Soul hungered for her Smiles. He was the sort of Man,
methinks, who would barter everything--even Honour--for the Woman he
loved. And I do not think that he cared for much beyond that. His
Father, an you remember, fought on the Parliament side. I do not say
that he was one of the Regicides, but he did not raise a finger to help
or to serve his King. And he had been a rigid Protestant. All the
Stourcliffes of Stour were that; and the present Earl's allegiance to
King Charles could only have been very perfunctory. Besides which, this
is the age of Conspiracies and of political Factions. I doubt not but
it will be another twenty years before the Country is really satisfied
with its form of Government. I myself--though God knows I am but a
humble Clerk--could wish that this Popish marriage for the King had not
been decided on. We do not want religious factions warring with one
another again.
But all this is beside the mark, nor would I dwell on it save for my
desire to be, above all, just to these three People who were destined to
do the Man I love best in the world an irreparable injury.
As I said before, I could see that my Lord Stour was hesitating. Now
Lady Barbara invited him to sit beside her upon the Sofa, and she began
talking to him quietly and earnestly, Lord Douglas only putting in a
word or so now and again. What they said hath little to do with the
portent of my Narrative, nor will I plague You with the telling of it.
Those people are nothing to You; they have nothing to do with humble
Plebeians like ourselves; they are a class apart, and we should never
mix ourselves up with them or their affairs, as Mr. Betterton hath since
learned to his hurt.
3
While they were talking together, the three of them, I tried once more
to concentrate my mind upon my work, and finished off another two or
three copies of the treasonable Manifesto.
All this while, you must remember that the noise and rowdiness in the
streets had in no way diminished. Rather had it grown in intensity.
The people whom I watched from time to time and saw darting down
Chancery Lane or across the corner of Fleet Street, looked more excited,
more bent on mischief, than before. I had seen a few stones flying
about, and once or twice heard the ominous crash of broken glass.
Then suddenly there came an immense Cry, which was not unlike the
snarling of hundreds of angry Beasts. I knew what that meant. My Lady
Castlemaine was either on the point of quitting the India House or had
been otherwise spied by the Populace. I could no longer restrain my
Curiosity. Once more I cast my papers aside and leaned out of the
window. The shouting and booing had become more and more ominous.
Apparently, too, a company of the City Watchmen had arrived. They were
trying to force through the throng, and their calls of "Make way there!"
sounded more and more peremptory. But what was a handful of Watchmen
beside an excited crowd of Rioters determined to wreak their temper upon
an unpopular bit of baggage? I doubt not but that His Majesty's
Body-guard could alone restore order now and compass the safety of the
Lady.
As I leaned out of the Window I could see stones and miscellaneous
missiles flying in every direction; and then suddenly I had a clear
vision of a gorgeous Sedan Chair escorted by a dozen or more City
Watchmen, who were trying to forge a way for it through the Crowd. They
were trying to reach the corner of our Street, hoping no doubt to turn
up this way and thus effect an escape by way of the Lower Lincoln's Inn
Fields and Drury Lane, while the Crowd would of necessity be kept back
through the narrowness of the Streets and the intricacies of the Alleys.
The whole point now was whether the Chairmen could reach our corner
before the Roisterers had succeeded in beating back the Watchmen, when
of course they meant to tear Lady Castlemaine out of her chair. Poor,
wretched Woman! She must have been terribly frightened. I know that I
myself felt woefully agitated. Leaning out toward the street, I could
see Lady Barbara's pretty head at the next window and my Lord Stour and
Lord Douglas close beside her. They too had forgotten all about their
talk and their plans and Conspiracies, and were gazing out on the
exciting Spectacle with mixed feelings, I make no doubt. As for me, I
feel quite sure that but for my sense of utter helplessness, I should
have rushed out even then and tried to lend a hand in helping an
unfortunate Woman out of so terrible a Predicament, and I marvelled how
deep must have been the hatred for her, felt by Gentlemen like my Lord
Stour and Lord Douglas Wychwoode, that their Sense of Chivalry forsook
them so completely at this Hour, that neither of them attempted to run
to her aid or even suggested that she should find shelter in this House.
As for Mr. Baggs, he was not merely idly curious; he was delighted at
the idea that my Lady Castlemaine should be maltreated by the mob;
whilst Mistress Euphrosine's one idea was the hope that if the Rioters
meant to murder the Baggage, they would not do so outside this door.
She and Mr. Baggs had come running into the Parlour the moment the
rioting reached its height, and of a truth, dear Mistress, you would
have been amused to see us all at the three front windows of the
house--three groups watching the distant and wildly exciting happenings
in Fleet Street. There was I at one window; Mr. and Mrs. Baggs at the
other; Lady Barbara and the two Gallants at the third. And the
ejaculations which came from one set of Watchers or the other would fill
several pages of my narrative.
Mistress Euphrosine was in abject fear. "Oh! I hope," cried she now and
again, "that they won't come this way. There'll be murder upon our
doorstep!"
My Lord Stour had just one revulsion of feeling in favour of the
unfortunate Castlemaine. "Come, Douglas!" he called at one time.
"Let's to her aid. Remember she is a Woman, after all!"
But Lady Barbara placed a restraining hand upon his arm, and Lord
Douglas said with a rough laugh: "I would not lift a finger to defend
her. Let the Devil befriend her, an he list."
And all the while the mob hissed and hooted, and stones flew like hail
all around the Chaise.
"Oh! they'll murder her! They'll murder her!" called Mistress
Euphrosine piously.
"And save honest men a vast deal of trouble thereby," Mr. Baggs
concluded sententiously.
The Watchmen were now forging ahead. With their sticks and staves they
fought their way through bravely, heading the chair towards our street.
But even so, methought that they stood but little Chance of saving my
Lady Castlemaine in the end. The Crowd had guessed their purpose
already, and were quite ready to give Chase. The Chairmen with their
heavy burden could be no match against them in a Race, and the final
capture of the unfortunate Woman was only now a question of time.
Then suddenly I gave a gasp. Of a truth I could scarce believe in what
I saw. Let me try and put the picture clearly before you, dear
Mistress; for in truth You would have loved to see it as I did then.
About half a dozen Watchmen had by great exertion succeeded in turning
the corner of our Street. They were heading towards us with only a
comparatively small knot of roisterers to contend against, and the
panting, struggling Chairmen with the Sedan Chair were immediately
behind them.
As far as I could see, the Crowd had not expected this Manoeuvre, and
the sudden turning off of their prey at right angles disconcerted the
foremost among them, for the space of a second or two. This gave the
Chairmen a brief start up the street. But the very next moment the Crowd
realized the situation, and with a wild war-cry, turned to give Chase,
when a Man suddenly stepped out from nowhere in particular that I could
see, unless it was from the _Spread Eagle_ tavern, and stood at the
bottom of the street between two posts, all alone, facing the mob.
His Appearance, I imagine, had been so unexpected as well as so sudden,
that the young Roisterers in the front of the Crowd paused--like a Crowd
always will when something totally unexpected doth occur. The Man, of
course, had his back towards us, but I had recognized him, nor was I
surprised that his Appearance did have the effect of checking for an
instant that spirit of Mischief which was animating the throng. Lady
Barbara and the young Gentlemen at the other window were even more
astonished than I at this wholly unforeseen occurrence. They could not
understand the sudden checking of the Rioters and the comparative
silence which fell upon the forefront of their ranks.
"What does it all mean?" my Lord Stour exclaimed.
"A Man between the chair and its pursuers," Lord Douglas said in
amazement.
"Who is it?" queried Lady Barbara.
"Not a Gentleman," rejoined Lord Douglas; "for he would not thus stop to
parley with so foul a mob. Meseems I know the figure," he added, and
leaned still further out of the window, the better to take in the whole
of the amazing scene. "Yes--by gad! ... It is..."
Here Mistress Euphrosine's cry of horror broke in upon us all.
"Alas!" she ejaculated piously. "'Tis that reprobate Brother of mine!"
"So it is!" added Mr. Baggs drily. "'Tis meet he should raise his voice
in defence of that baggage."
"But, who is it?" insisted my Lord Stour impatiently.
"Why, Betterton the Actor," replied Lord Douglas with a laugh. "Do you
not know him?"
"Only from seeing him on the stage," said the other. Then he added: "An
Actor confronting a mob! By gad! the fellow hath pluck!"
"He knows," protested Mr. Baggs acidly, "that the mob will not hurt him.
He hath so oft made them laugh that they look upon him as one of
themselves."
"Listen!" said Lady Barbara. "You can hear him speak quite plainly."
Whereupon they all became silent.
All this, of course, had occurred in far less time than it takes to
describe. Not more than a few seconds had gone by since first I saw Mr.
Betterton step out from Nowhere in particular into the Street. But his
Interposition had given my Lady Castlemaine's Chairmen and also the
Watchmen, who were guarding her, a distinct advance. They were making
the most of the respite by hurrying up our street as fast as they were
able, even while the Crowd--that portion of it that stood nearest to Mr.
Betterton and could hear his Voice--broke into a loud laugh at some
Sally of his which had apparently caught their Fancy.
From the distance the cry was raised: "To the pillory, the Castlemaine!"
It was at this point that my Lady Barbara bade every one to listen, so
that we all could hear Mr. Betterton's rich and powerful Voice quite
plainly.
"Come, come, Friends!" he was saying; "the Lady will get there without
your help some day, I'll warrant. Aye! and further too, an the Devil
gives her her due! Now, now," he continued, when cries and murmurs,
boos and hisses, strove to interrupt him. "You are not going to hiss a
hard-working Actor off the Stage like this. Do, in the name of Sport,
which every sound-minded Englishman loves, after all, await a fitter
opportunity for molesting a defenceless Woman. What say You to
adjourning to the _Spread Eagle_ tavern, where mine Host hath just
opened a new cask of the most delicious beer You have ever tasted?
There's a large room at the back of the bar--You know it. Well! every
one who goes there now--and there's room for three or four hundred of
You--can drink a pint of that beer at my expense. What say You,
Friends? Is it not better than to give chase to a pack of Watchmen and
a pair of liveried Chairmen who are already as scared as rabbits? See!
they are fast disappearing up the street. Come! who will take a pint of
beer at the invitation of Tom Betterton? You know him! Is he not a
jolly, good fellow?..."
Of course, he did not deliver this speech uninterruptedly. It was only
snatches of it that came to our ear. But we Listeners soon caught the
drift of it, and watched its reception by the Crowd. Well! the
Fire-eaters gradually cooled down. The prospect of the ale at the
_Spread Eagle_ caused many a smack of the lips, which in its turn
smothered the cries of Rage and Vituperation. Anon, One could perceive
one forearm after another drawn with anticipatory Pleasure across lips
that had ceased to boo.
Just then, too, Heaven interposed in a conciliatory spirit in the form
of a few drops of heavy Rain, presaging a Storm. The next moment the
stampede in the direction of the _Spread Eagle_ tavern had begun, whilst
my Lady Castlemaine's Chairmen trudged unmolested past our door.
My Lord Stour gave a loud laugh.
"'Twas well thought on," he exclaimed. "The Mountebank hath found a way
to stop the Rabble's howls, whilst my Lady Baggage finds safety in
flight."
But Lady Barbara added thoughtfully: "Methinks 'twas plucky to try and
defend a Woman single-handed."
4
I watched the turbulent throng, filing now in orderly procession through
the hospitably open doors of the _Spread Eagle_ tavern. Mr. Betterton
remained for awhile standing at the door, marshalling the more
obstreperous of his invited Guests and parleying with Mr. Barraclough,
the Host of the _Spread Eagle_--no doubt making arrangements for the
quenching of three or four hundred thirsts at his expense. Then he
suddenly turned on his heel and came up the Street. Lord Douglas gave
one of his rough, grating laughs, and said:
"So now I see that, like a wise man, Mr. Betterton mistrusts his
Popularity and proposes to seek refuge from his ebullient Friends."
"I believe," said Mistress Euphrosine to her Lord in an awed whisper; "I
believe that Thomas is coming here."
Which possibility greatly disconcerted Mr. Baggs. He became quite
agitated, and exclaimed fussily:
"I'll not have him here ... I'll not ... Not while her Ladyship is here
... I'll not allow it!"
"And pray why not, Mr. Notary?" Lady Barbara put in haughtily. "Mr.
Betterton sups twice a week with His Majesty. Surely then you may
invite him without shame under your roof!"
"And I've never seen the great Actor close to," remarked Lord Stour
lightly. "I've oft marvelled what he was like in private life."
"Oh!" said Lord Douglas, with a distinct note of acerbity in his voice,
"he is just like any other Fellow of his degree. These Mountebanks have
of late thought themselves Somebodies, just because 'tis the fashion for
Gentlemen to write plays and to go to the Theatre. My Lord Rochester,
Sir George Etherege and the others have so spoilt them by going about
constantly with them, that the Fellows scarce know their place now.
This man Betterton is the worst of the lot. He makes love to the Ladies
of the Court, forgets that he is naught but a Rogue and a Vagabond and
not worthy to be seen in the company of Gentlemen. Oh! I've oft had an
itching to lay a stick across the shoulders of some of these louts!"
I would that I could convey to you, dear Mistress, the tone of Spite
wherewith Lord Douglas spoke at this moment, or the look of Contempt
which for the moment quite disfigured his good-looking Face. That he
had been made aware at some time of Mr. Betterton's admiration for Lady
Barbara became at once apparent to me, also that he looked upon that
admiration as a Presumption and an Insult.
I was confirmed in this Supposition by the look which he gave then and
there to his Sister, a look which caused her to blush to the very roots
of her hair. I fancy, too, that he also whispered something on that
Subject to my Lord Stour, for a dark frown of Anger suddenly appeared
upon the latter's Face and he muttered an angry and rough Ejaculation.
As for me, I am an humble Clerk, a peaceful Citizen and a practising
Christian; but just at that moment I felt that I hated Lord Douglas
Wychwoode and his Friend with a bitter and undying hatred.
5
Meseemed as if the air within the room had become surcharged with a
subtle and heady fluid akin to an Intoxicant, so many Passions were even
then warring in the innermost hearts of us all. There was Hatred and
Spite, and Fervour and Love. We were all of us alive at that moment, if
You know what I mean. We were Individuals who felt and thought
individually and strongly; not just the mere sheeplike Creatures swayed
hither and thither by the Modes and Exigencies of the hour. And I can
assure you that even then, when we heard Mr. Betterton's quick step
ascending the stairs, we all held our breath and watched the door as if
something Supernatural was about to be revealed to us.
The next moment that door was thrown open and Mr. Betterton appeared
upon the threshold.
Ah! if only You had seen him then, Mistress, your heart would have
rejoiced, just as mine did, at the sight. Personally, I could never
tell You if Mr. Betterton is tall or short, handsome or ill-favoured;
all that I know is that when he is in a room you cannot look at any one
else; he seems to dwarf every other Man by the Picturesqueness of his
Personality.
And now--oh! You should have seen him as he stood there, framed in the
doorway, the grey afternoon light of this dull September day falling
full upon his Face, with those glittering Eyes of his and the kindly,
firm Mouth, round which there slowly began to spread a gently mocking
Smile. He was richly dressed, as was his wont, with priceless lace
frills at throat and wrists, and his huge Periwig set off to perfection
the nobility of his brow.
With one swift gaze round the room, he had taken in the full Situation.
You know yourself, dear Mistress, what marvellous Powers of Intuition he
has. His glance swept over Lady Barbara's exquisite comeliness, her
somewhat flurried mien and wide, inquisitive eyes; over Lord Douglas,
sullen and contemptuous; my Lord Stour, wrathful and suspicious;
Mistress Euphrosine and Mr. Baggs, servile and tremulous. I doubt not
that his keen Eyes had also spied me watching his every Movement from
behind the screen.
The mocking Smile broadened upon his Face. With one shapely leg extended
forward, his right arm holding his hat, his arm executing a superb
flourish, he swept to the assembled Company an elaborate Bow.
"My Lords, your servant," he said. Then bowed more gravely to Lady
Barbara and added, with a tone of subtle and flattering deference: "I
am, as always, your Ladyship's most humble and most devoted Slave."
Whereupon her Ladyship swept him one of those graceful Curtsies which I
understand have become the Mode in fashionable Society of late. But the
young Gentlemen seemed to have lost count of their Manners. They were
either too wrathful or too much taken aback to speak. Mistress
Euphrosine, with her nose in the air, was preparing to sail majestically
out of the room.
Mr. Betterton then stepped in. He threw down his hat and playfully made
pretence to intercept Mistress Euphrosine.
"Sister, I do entreat You," he said with mock concern, "do not carry
your well-shaped nose so high. The scent of Heaven will not reach your
nostrils, try how you may.... 'Tis more likely that you will smell the
brimstone which clings to my perruque."
And before Mistress Euphrosine had time to think of a retort, he had
turned to her Ladyship with that gentle air of deference which became
him so well.
"How comes it," he asked, "that I have the privilege of meeting your
Ladyship here?"
"A mere accident, Sir," my Lord Stour interposed, somewhat high-handedly
I thought. "Her Ladyship, fearing to be molested by the Crowd, came to
meet Lord Douglas here."
"I understand," murmured Mr. Betterton. And I who knew him so well,
realized that just for the moment he understood nothing save that he was
in the presence of this exquisitely beautiful Woman who had enchained
his Fancy. He stood like one transfixed, his eyes fastened almost in
wonderment upon the graceful Apparition before him. I should not be
exaggerating, fair Mistress, if I said that he seemed literally to be
drinking in every line of her dainty Figure; the straight, white throat,
the damask cheek and soft, fair hair, slightly disarranged. He had of a
truth lost consciousness of his surroundings, and this to such an extent
that it apparently set my Lord Stour's nerves on edge; for anon he said
with evident Irritation and a total Disregard both of polite Usage and
of Truth, since of course he knew quite well to whom he was speaking:
"I did not catch your name, Sir; though you seem acquainted with her
Ladyship."
He had to repeat the Query twice, and with haughty impatience, before
Mr. Betterton descended from the Clouds in order to reply.
"My name is Betterton, Sir," he said, no less curtly than my lord.
"Betterton? Ah, yes!" his Lordship went on, with what I thought was
studied Insolence, seeing that he was addressing one of the most famous
Men in England. "I have heard the Name before ... but where, I cannot
remember.... Let me see, you are...?"
"An Actor, Sir," Mr. Betterton gave haughty answer. "Therefore an
Artist, even though an humble one; but still a World contained in one
Man."
Then his manner changed, the stiffness and pride went out of it and he
added in his more habitual mode of good-natured banter, whilst pointing
in the direction of Mistress Euphrosine:
"That, however, is not, I imagine, the opinion which my worthy Sister--a
pious Lady, Sir--hath of my talents. She only concedes me a Soul when
she gloats over the idea that it shall be damned."
"You are insolent!" quoth Mistress Euphrosine, as she stalked
majestically to the door. "And I'll not stay longer to hear you
blaspheme."
Even so, her Brother's lightly mocking ripple of Laughter pursued her
along the course of her dignified exit through the door.
"Nay, dear Sister," he said. "Why not stay and tell these noble
Gentlemen your doubts as to which half of me in the hereafter will be
stoking the Fires of Hell and which half be wriggling in the Flames?"
Then he added, turning gaily once more to the Visitors as Mistress
Euphrosine finally departed and banged the door to behind her: "Mistress
Baggs, Sir, is much troubled that she cannot quite make up her mind how
much of me is Devil and how much a lost Soul."
"Of a surety, Sir," retorted Lord Douglas, with the same tone of
malicious Spite wherewith he had originally spoken of Mr. Betterton,
"every Gentleman is bound to share your worthy Sister's doubts on that
point ... and as to whether your right Hand or your sharp Tongue will
fizzle first down below."
There was a moment's silence in the room--oh! the mere fraction of a
second--whilst I, who knew every line of Mr. Betterton's face, saw the
quick flash of Anger which darted from his eyes at the insolent speech.
Lady Barbara too had made an instinctive movement, whether towards him
in protection or towards her Brother in reproach, I could not say.
Certain it is that that Movement chased away in one instant Mr.
Betterton's flaming wrath. He shrugged his shoulders and retorted with
quiet Mockery:
"Your Lordship, I feel sure, will be able to have those doubts set at
rest presently. I understand that vast intelligence will be granted to
Gentlemen down there."
At once my Lord's hand went to his sword.
"Insolent!--" he muttered; and my Lord Stour immediately stepped to his
Friend's side.
Like the Fleet Street crowd awhile ago, these two Gentlemen meant
mischief. For some reason which was not far to seek, they were on the
verge of a Quarrel with Mr. Betterton--nay! I believe that they meant
to provoke him into one. In wordy Warfare, however, they did not stand
much chance against the great Actor's caustic Wit, and no doubt their
sense of Impotence made them all the more wrathful and quarrelsome.
Mr. Baggs, of course, servile and obsequious as was his wont, was ready
enough to interpose. A Quarrel inside his house, between valued Clients
and his detested Brother-in-law, was not at all to his liking.
"My Lords ..." he mumbled half-incoherently, "I implore you ... do not
heed him ... he..."
His futile attempts at Conciliation tickled Mr. Betterton's sense of
humour. The last vestige of his Anger vanished in a mocking Smile.
"Nay, good Master Theophilus," he said coolly, "prithee do not interfere
between me and the Wrath of these two Gentlemen. Attend to thine own
Affairs ... and to thine own Conspiracies," he added--spoke suddenly
under Mr. Baggs' very nose, so that the latter gave a jump and
involuntarily gasped:
"Conspiracies? ... What--what the devil do you mean, Sir, by
Conspiracies?"
"Oh, nothing--nothing--my good Friend," replied Mr. Betterton lightly.
"But when I see two hot-headed young Cavaliers in close conversation
with a seedy Lawyer, I know that somewhere in the pocket of one of them
there is a bit of Handwriting that may send the lot of them to the Tower
first and to--well!--to Heaven afterwards."
My Heart was in my Mouth all the time that he spoke. Of course he could
not know how near the Truth he was, and I firmly believe that his banter
was a mere Arrow shot into the air; but even so it grazed these noble
Lords' equanimity. Lord Douglas had become very pale, and my Lord Stour
looked troubled, or was it my fancy? But I am sure that her Ladyship's
blue eyes rested on Mr. Betterton with a curious searching gaze. She
too wondered how much Knowledge of the Truth lay behind his easy
Sarcasm.
Then Lord Douglas broke into a laugh.
"There, for once, Sir Actor," he said lightly, "your perspicacity is at
fault. My Lord the Earl of Stour and I came to consult your
Brother-in-law on a matter of business."
"And," exclaimed Mr. Betterton with mock concern, "I am detaining you
with my foolish talk. I pray you, Gentlemen, take no further heed of
me. Time treads hard on your aristocratic Heels, whilst it is the Slave
of a poor, shiftless Actor like myself."
"Yes, yes," once more interposed the mealy-mouthed Mr. Baggs. "I pray
you, my Lords--your Ladyship--to come to my inner office----"
There was a general movement amongst the Company, during which I
distinctly heard Lord Douglas Wychwoode whisper to my Lord Stour:
"Can you wonder that I always long to lay a stick across that Man's
shoulders? His every word sounds like insolence ... And he has dared to
make love to Barbara...."
Her Ladyship, however, seemed loth to linger. The hour, of a truth, was
getting late.
"Father will be anxious," she said. "I have stayed out over long."
"Are the streets safe, I wonder?" my Lord Stour remarked.
"Perfectly," broke in Mr. Betterton. "And if her Ladyship will allow
me, I will conduct her to her Chair."
Again my Lord Stour flashed out angrily, and once more the brooding
Quarrel threatened to burst the bounds of conventional Intercourse.
This time the Lady Barbara herself interposed.
"I pray you, my good Lord," she said, "do not interfere. Mr. Betterton
and I are old Friends. By your leave, he shall conduct me to my chair.
Do we not owe it to him," she added gaily, "that the streets are quiet
enough to enable us all to get home in peace?"
Then she turned to Mr. Betterton and said gently:
"If You would be so kind, Sir--my men are close by--I should be grateful
if You will tell them to bring my chair along."
She held out her hand to him and he bowed low and kissed the tips of her
fingers. Then he went.
6
Lord Douglas' spiteful glance followed the distinguished Actor's
retreating figure until the door had closed upon him. Then he said
drily:
"Perhaps you are right, Babs. He may as well fetch your chair. It is
raining hard and one Lacquey is as good as another."
He turned to Mr. Baggs, who, standing first on one leg then on the
other, presented a truly pitiable spectacle of Servility and
Unmanliness. I think he had just come to realize that I had been in the
room behind the screen all this while, and that my Presence would be
unwelcome to their Lordships if they knew that I had overheard all their
Conversation. Certain it is that I saw him give a quick glance in my
direction, and then he became even more fussy and snivelling than
before.
"In my inner Office," he murmured. "I pray you to honour me, my
Lords.... A glass of wine, perhaps ... until the copies are finished. I
should be so proud ... and ... and ... we should be quite undisturbed
... whereas here ... I only regret..."
I despised him for all that grovelling, and so did the Gentlemen, I make
no doubt. Nevertheless, they were ready to follow him.
"We must wait somewhere," Lord Douglas said curtly. "And I should be
glad of a glass of wine."
Lady Barbara was standing in the window-recess, waiting for her chair.
She insisted on my Lord Stour going with her Brother into the inner
room. Undoubtedly, she did not wish either of them to meet Mr. Betterton
again.
"I promise you," she said with quiet Determination, "that I'll not stop
to speak with him. I'll watch through the window until my Men bring the
chair; then I will go down at once."
"But----" protested his Lordship.
"I entreat you to go, my Lord," she reiterated tartly. "And you too,
Douglas. My temper is on edge, and if I am not left to myself for a few
moments I shall have an attack of Nerves."
She certainly spoke with unwonted Sharpness. Thus commanded, it would
have been churlish to disobey. The young Gentlemen, after a second or
two longer of Hesitation, finally followed Mr. Baggs out of the room.
Now, I could not see the Lady Barbara, for she was ensconced in a
window-recess, just as I was; but I heard her give a loud Sigh of
Impatience. There was no doubt that her Nerves had been jarred. Small
wonder, seeing all that she had gone through--the noise and rioting in
the streets, her Terror and her Flight; her unexpected meeting with her
Lover; then the advent of Mr. Betterton and that brooding Quarrel
between him and the two Gentlemen, which threatened to break through at
any moment.
The next minute I saw her Ladyship's chair brought to a halt down below,
and she crossed the Line of my Vision between the window and the sofa,
where she had left her cloak. She picked it up and was about to wrap it
round her shoulders, when the door was flung open and Mr. Betterton came
in. He gave a quick glance round the room and saw that the Lady Barbara
was alone--or so he thought, for, of course, he did not see me. He
carefully closed the door behind him and came quickly forward,
ostensibly to help her Ladyship on with her cloak.
"It is kind of you, Sir, thus to wait on me," she said coldly. "May I
claim your Arm to conduct me to my chair?"
She was standing close in front of him just then, with her back to him
and her hands raised up to her shoulders in order to receive her cloak,
which he had somewhat roughly snatched out of her grasp.
"My Arm?" he riposted, with a vibrating note of passion in his mellow
voice. "My Life, myself, are all at your Ladyship's service. But will
not you wait one little moment and say one kind word to the poor Actor
whose Art is the delight of Kings, and whose Person is the butt of every
Coxcomb who calls himself a Gentleman?"
He flung the cloak upon a chair and tried to take her hand, which,
however, she quickly withdrew, and then turned, not unkindly, to face
him.
"My Brother is hasty, Sir," she said more gently. "He has many
prejudices which, no doubt, time and experience of life will mend. As
for me," she added lightly, "I am quite ready to extend the hand of
Friendship, not only to the Artist but to the Man."
She held out her hand to him. Then, as he did not take it, but stood
there looking at her with that hungry, passionate look which revealed
the depth of his Admiration for her, she continued with a bantering tone
of reproach:
"You will not take my hand, Sir?"
"No," he replied curtly.
"But I am offering You my Friendship," she went on, with a quick, nervy
little laugh; for she was Woman enough, believe me, to understand his
look.
"Friendship between Man and Woman is impossible," he said in a strange,
hoarse voice, which I scarce recognized as his.
"What do you mean?" she retorted, with a sudden stiffening of her Figure
and a haughty Glance which he, of a truth, should have known boded no
good for his suit.
"I mean," he replied, "that between a Man and a Woman, who are both
young and both endowed with Heart and Soul and Temperament, there may be
Enmity or Love, Hatred or Passion; but Friendship, never."
"You talk vaguely, Sir," she rejoined coldly. "I pray You, give me my
cloak."
"Not," he retorted, "before I have caused your Ladyship to cast one
short Glance back over the past few months."
"With what purpose, I pray You?"
"So that You might recognize, as You gaze along their vista, the man who
since he first beheld you hath madly worshipped You."
She stood before him, still facing him, tall and of a truth divinely
fair. Nay! this no one could gainsay. For the moment I found it in my
Heart to sympathize with his Infatuation. You, dear Mistress, were not
there to show him how much lovelier still a Woman could be, and the Lady
Barbara had all the subtle flavour, too, of forbidden fruit. Mr.
Betterton sank on one knee before her; his mellow Voice sounded
exquisitely tender and caressing. Oh! had I been a Woman, how gladly
would I have listened to his words. There never was such a Voice as
that of Mr. Betterton. No wonder that he can sway the hearts of
thousands by its Magic; no wonder that thousands remain entranced while
he speaks. Now, I assure You, Mistress, that tears gathered in my eyes,
there was such true Passion, such depth of feeling in his tone. But
Lady Barbara's heart was not touched. In truth, she loved another Man,
and her whole outlook on Life and Men was distorted by the Environment
amidst which she had been brought up.
The exquisite, insinuating Voice with its note of tender Appeal only
aroused her contempt. She jumped to her feet with an angry exclamation.
What she said, I do not quite remember; but it was a Remark which must
have stung him to the quick, for I can assure You, dear Mistress, that
Mr. Betterton's pride is at least equal to that of the greatest Nobleman
in the land. But all that he did say was:
"Nay, Madam; an Artist's love is not an insult, even to a Queen."
"Possibly, Sir," she riposted coldly. "But I at least cannot listen to
You. So I pray You let me rejoin my Servants."
"And I pray You," he pleaded, without rising, "humbly on my knees, to
hear me just this once!"
She protested, and would have left him there, kneeling, while she ran
out of the room; but he had succeeded in getting hold of her Hand and
was clinging to it with both his own, whilst from his lips there came a
torrent of passionate pleading such as I could not have thought any
Woman capable of resisting for long.
"I am not a young Dandy," he urged; "nor yet a lank-haired, crazy Poet
who grows hysterical over a Woman's eyebrow. I am a Man, and an Artist,
rich with an inheritance such as even your Ancestors would have envied
me. Mine inheritance is the Mind and Memory of cultured England and a
Name which by mine Art I have rendered immortal."
"I honour your Genius, Sir," she rejoined coolly; "and because of it, I
try to excuse your folly."
"Nay!" he continued with passionate insistence. "There are Passions so
sweet that they excuse all the Follies they provoke. Oh! I pray You
listen ... I have waited in silence for months, not daring to approach
You. You seemed immeasurably above me, as distant as the Stars; but
whilst I, poor and lowly-born, waited and worshipped silently, success
forged for me a Name, so covered with Glory that I dare at last place it
at your feet."
"I am touched, Sir, and honoured, I assure You," she said somewhat
impatiently. "But all this is naught but folly, and reason should teach
you that the Daughter of the Marquis of Sidbury can be nothing to You."
But by this time it was evident that the great and distinguished Actor
had allowed his Folly to conquer his Reason. I closed my eyes, for I
could not bear to see a Man whom I so greatly respected kneeling in such
abject humiliation before a Woman who had nothing for him but disdain.
Ah! Women can be very cruel when they do not love. In truth, Lady
Barbara, with all her Rank and Wealth, could not really have felt
contempt for a Man whom the King himself and the highest in the land
delighted to honour; yet I assure You, Mistress, that some of the things
she said made me blush for the sake of the high-minded Man who honours
me with his Friendship.
"Short of reason, Sir," she said, with unmeasured hauteur at one time,
"I pray you recall your far-famed sense of humour. Let it show you
Thomas Betterton, the son of a Scullion, asking the hand of the Lady
Barbara Wychwoode in marriage."
This was meant for a Slap in the Face, and was naught but a studied
insult; for we all know that the story of Mr. Betterton's Father having
been a menial is utterly without foundation. But I assure You that by
this time he was blind and deaf to all save to the insistent call of his
own overwhelming passion. He did not resent the insult, as I thought he
would do; but merely rejoined fervently:
"I strive to conjure the picture; but only see Tom Betterton, the
world-famed Artist, wooing the Woman he loves."
But what need is there for me to recapitulate here all the fond and
foolish things which were spoken by a truly great Man to a chit of a
Girl, who was too self-centred and egotistical to appreciate the great
Honour which he was conferring on her by his Wooing. I was holding my
breath, fearful lest I should be seen. To both of these proud People
before me, my known Presence would have been an added humiliation.
Already Lady Barbara, impatient of Mr. Betterton's importunity, was
raising her Voice and curtly bidding him to leave her in peace. I
thought every moment that she would call out to her Brother, when Heaven
alone would know what would happen next.
"Your importunity becomes an insult, Sir," she said at last. "I command
You to release my hand."
She tried to wrench it from his Grasp, but I imagine that his hold on
her wrist was so strong that she could not free herself. She looked
around her now with a look of Helplessness, which would have gone to my
Heart if I had any feeling of sympathy left after I had poured out its
full measure for my stricken Friend. He was not himself then, I assure
You, Mistress. I know that the evil tongue of those who hate and envy
him have poured insidious poison in your ears, that they told you that
Mr. Betterton had insulted the Lady Barbara past forgiveness and had
behaved towards her like a Cad and a Bully. But this I swear to be
untrue. I was there all the time, and I saw it all. He was on his
knees, and never attempted to touch her beyond clinging to her Hand and
covering it with kisses. He was an humbled and a stricken Man, who saw
his Love rejected, his Passion flouted, his Suffering mocked.
I tell you that all he did was to cling to her hand.
7
Then, all at once, I suppose something frightened her, and she called
loudly:
"Douglas! Douglas!"
I don't think that she meant to call, and I am sure that the very next
moment she had already regretted what she had done.
Mr. Betterton jumped to his feet, sobered in the instant; and she stood
alone in the middle of the room, gazing somewhat wild-eyed in the
direction of the door, which had already been violently flung open and
through which my Lord Stour and Lord Douglas now hurriedly stepped
forward.
"What is it, Babs?" Lord Douglas queried roughly. "Why are You still
here? ... And what...?"
He got no further. His glance had alighted on Mr. Betterton, and I
never saw quite so much concentrated Fury and Hatred in any one's eyes
as now appeared in those of Lord Douglas Wychwoode.
But already the Lady Barbara had recovered herself. No doubt she
realized the Mischief which her involuntary call had occasioned. The
Quarrel which had been slowly smouldering the whole Afternoon was ready
to burst into living flame at this moment. Even so, she tried to stem
its outburst, protesting that she had been misunderstood. She even
tried to laugh; but the laugh sounded pitiably forced.
"But it's nothing, Douglas, dear," she said. "I protest. Did I really
call? I do not remember. As a matter of fact, Mr. Betterton was good
enough to recite some verses for my delectation ... My Enthusiasm must
have run away with me ... and, unwittingly, I must have called out..."
Obviously the Explanation was a lame one. I felt myself that it would
not be believed. On the face of my Lord Stour thunderclouds of Wrath
were fast gathering, and though Mr. Betterton had recovered his presence
of mind with all the Art at his command, yet there was a glitter in his
eyes which he was powerless to veil, whilst the tremor of her Ladyship's
lips while she strove to speak calmly aroused my Lord Stour's
ever-wakeful Jealousy.
Lord Douglas, as was his wont apparently whenever he was deeply moved,
was pacing up and down the room; his hands were clasped behind his back
and from time to time I could see their convulsive twitching. Lord
Stour now silently helped her Ladyship on with her cloak. I was
thankful that Mr. Baggs and Mistress Euphrosine were keeping in the
background, else I verily believe that their obsequious Snivellings
would have caused my quivering Nerves to play me an unpleasant trick.
Mr. Betterton had retired to the nearest window recess, so that I could
not see him. All that I did see were the two Gentlemen and the
threatening Clouds which continued to gather upon their Brows. I also
heard my Lord Stour whisper hurriedly in Lord Douglas' ear:
"In the name of our Friendship, Man, let me deal with this."
I felt as if an icy hand had gripped my Heart. I could not conjecture
what that ominous Speech could portend. Lady Barbara now looked very
pale and troubled; her hands as they fumbled with her cloak trembled
visibly. Lord Stour, with a masterful gesture, took one of them and
held it firmly under his arm.
He then led her towards the door. Just before she went with him,
however, her Ladyship turned, and I imagine sought to attract Mr.
Betterton's attention.
"I must thank you, Sir," she said, with a final pathetic attempt at
Conciliation, "for your beautiful Recitation. I shall be greatly
envied, methinks, by those who have only heard Mr. Betterton declaim
upon the Stage."
Lord Douglas had gone to the door. He opened it and stood grimly by
whilst my Lord Stour walked out, with her Ladyship upon his arm.
CHAPTER V
THE OUTRAGE
1
A great Sadness descends upon my Soul, dear Mistress, even as I write.
Cold shivers course up and down the length of my spine and mine eyes
feel hot with tears still unshed--tears of Sorrow and of Shame, aye! and
of a just Anger that it should have been in the power of two
empty-headed Coxcombs to wreak an irreparable Injury upon one who is as
much above them as are the Stars above the grovelling Worms.
I use the words "irreparable Injury" advisedly, dear Lady, because what
happened on that late September afternoon will for ever be graven upon
the Heart and Memory of a great and noble Man, to the exclusion of many
a gentle feeling which was wont to hold full sway over his Temperament
before then. Time, mayhap, and the triumph of a great Soul over
overwhelming temptation, have no doubt somewhat softened the tearing
ache of that cruel brand; but only your Hand, fair Mistress, can
complete the healing, only your Voice can, with its tender gentleness,
drown the insistent call of Pride still smarting for further Revenge.
2
Lord Douglas Wychwoode did not speak to Mr. Betterton after her Ladyship
and my Lord Stour had gone out of the room, but continued his restless
pacing up and down. I thought his Silence ominous.
Half consciously, I kept my attention fixed upon the street below, and
presently saw the Lady Barbara get into her chair and bid adieu to his
Lordship, who remained standing on our doorstep until the Sedan was
borne away up the street and out of sight. Then, to my astonishment, he
walked down as far as the _Spread Eagle_ tavern and disappeared within
its doors.
The Silence in our parlour was getting on my nerves. I could not see
Mr. Betterton, only Lord Douglas from time to time, when in his
ceaseless tramping his short, burly figure crossed the line of my
vision.
Anon I once more thought of my Work. There were a couple more copies of
the Manifesto to be done, and I set to, determined to finish them. Time
went on, and the afternoon light was now rapidly growing dim. Outside,
the weather had not improved. A thin rain was coming down, which turned
the traffic-way of our street to sticky mud. I remember, just after I
had completed my Work and tidied up my papers, looking out of the window
and seeing, in the now fast-gathering gloom, the young Lord of Stour on
the doorstep of the _Spread Eagle_ tavern, in close conversation with
half a dozen ill-clad and ill-conditioned Ruffians. But I gave the
matter no further thought just then, for my mind happened to be
engrossed with doubts as to how I should convey the Copies I had made to
my Employer without revealing my presence to Lord Douglas Wychwoode.
His Lordship himself, however, soon relieved me of this perplexity, for
presently he came to a halt by the door which led to the inner office
and quite unceremoniously pushed it open and walked through. I heard his
peremptory demands for the Copies, and Mr. Baggs' muttered explanations.
But I did not wait a moment longer. This was obviously my best
opportunity for reappearing upon the Scene without his Lordship
realizing that I had been in the parlour all the time. I slipped out
from my hiding place and carefully rearranged the screen in its former
position, then I tiptoed across the room.
In the gloom, I caught sight of Mr. Betterton standing in one of the
Recesses, his slender white hands, which were so characteristic of his
refined, artistic Personality, were clasped behind his back. I would
have given a year or two of my humdrum life for the privilege of
speaking to him then and of expressing to him some of that Sympathy with
which my heart was overflowing. But no one knows better than I how
proud a Man he is, and how he would have resented the thought that any
one else had witnessed his Humiliation.
So I executed the Manoeuvre which I had in my mind without further
delay. I opened the door which gave on the stairs noiselessly, then
closed it again with a bang, as if I had just come in. Then I strode as
heavily as I could across the room to the door of the inner office,
against which I then rapped with my knuckles.
"Who's that?" Mr. Baggs' voice queried immediately.
"The Copies, Sir, which you ordered," I replied in a firm voice. "I
have finished them."
"Come in! come in!" then broke in Lord Douglas impatiently. "I have
waited in this accursed hole quite long enough."
The whole thing went off splendidly, and even Mr. Baggs did subsequently
compliment me on my clever Ruse. Lord Douglas never suspected the fact
that I had not been out of the Parlour for a moment, but had heard from
the safe shelter of the window-recess everything that had been going on.
3
When, a few moments later, I returned to the Parlour, eager to have a
few minutes' speech with Mr. Betterton, I saw that he had gone. Anon,
Kathleen, the maid, brought in the candles and closed the shutters. I
once more took my place at my desk, but this time made no use of the
screen. After awhile, Lord Douglas came in, followed by the
ever-obsequious Mr. Baggs, and almost directly after that, my Lord Stour
came back.
His clothes were very wet and he shook the rain out from the brim of his
hat.
"What a time You have been!" Lord Douglas said to him. "I was for going
away without seeing You."
"I wanted to find out what had happened in here," my Lord Stour gave
reply, speaking in a whisper.
"What do you mean?"
"The Fellow had the audacity to pay his addresses to Lady Barbara," my
Lord Stour went on, still speaking below his breath. "I guessed as
much, but wanted to make sure."
Lord Douglas uttered an angry Oath, and Lord Stour continued hurriedly:
"Such Insolence had to be severely punished, of course; and I saw to
it."
"How?" queried the other eagerly.
"I have hired half a dozen Ruffians from the tavern yonder, to waylay
him with sticks on his way from here, and to give him the sound
thrashing he deserves."
It was with the most terrific effort at self-control that I succeeded in
smothering the Cry of Horror which had risen to my lips. As it was, I
jumped to my feet and both my chair and the candle from my desk fell
with a clatter to the floor. I think that Mr. Baggs hurled a Volley of
abuse upon me for my clumsiness and chided me in that the grease from
the candle was getting wasted by dripping on the floor. But the
Gentlemen paid no heed to me. They were still engaged in their
abominable conversation. While I stooped to pick up the chair and the
candle, I heard my Lord Stour saying to his Friend:
"Come with me and see the Deed accomplished. The Mountebank must be made
to know whose Hand is dealing him the well-merited punishment. My
Hirelings meant to waylay him at the corner of Spreadeagle Court, a
quiet place which is not far from here, and which leads into a blind
Alley. Quickly, now," he added; "or we shall be too late."
More I did not hear; for, believe me, dear Mistress, I felt like one
possessed. For the nonce, I did not care whether I was seen or not,
whether Mr. Baggs guessed my purpose or not. I did not care if he
abused me or even punished me later for my strange behaviour. All that
I knew and felt just then was that I must run to the corner of
Spreadeagle Court, where one of the most abominable Outrages ever
devised by one Man against Another was even then being perpetrated. I
tore across the room, through the door and down the stairs, hatless, my
coat tails flying behind me, like some Maniac escaping from his Warders.
I ran up Chancery Lane faster, I think, than any man ever ran before.
Already my ears were ringing with the sound of distant shouts and
scuffling. My God! grant that I may not come too late. I, poor, weak,
feeble of body, could of course do nothing against six paid and armed
Ruffians; but at least I could be there to ward off or receive some of
the blows which the arms of the sacrilegious Miscreants were dealing, at
the instance of miserable Coxcombs, to a man whose Genius and Glory
should have rendered him almost sacred in their sight.
4
As long as I live will that awful picture haunt me as I saw it then.
You know the Blind Alley on the left-hand side of Spreadeagle Court,
with, at the end of it, the great double doorway which gives on the back
premises of Mr. Brooks' silk warehouse. It was against that doorway
that Mr. Betterton had apparently sought some semblance of refuge when
first he was set upon by the Ruffians. By the time that I reached the
corner of the Blind Alley, he had fallen against the door; for at first
I could not see him. All that I saw was a group of burly backs, and
arms waving sticks about in the air. All that I heard, oh, my God! were
ribald cries and laughter, and sounds such as wild animals must make
when they fall, hungry, upon their Prey. The Ruffians, I make no doubt,
had no grudge against their Victim; but they had been well instructed
and would be well paid if their foul deed was conscientiously
accomplished.
My Wrath and Anxiety gave me the strength which I otherwise lack.
Pushing, jostling, crawling, I contrived to work my way through the
hideous Barrier which seethed and moved and shouted betwixt me and the
Man whom I love.
When I at last kneeled beside him, I saw and heard nothing more. I did
not feel the blows which one or two of the Ruffians thought fit to deal
to Me. I only saw him, lying there against the door, panting, bleeding
from forehead and hands, his clothes torn, his noble Face of a deathly
Pallor. I drew his handkerchief from his coat pocket and staunched the
wounds upon his face; I pillowed his head against my Shoulder; I helped
him to struggle to his feet. He was in mortal pain and too weak to
speak; but a ray of kindliness and of gratitude flashed through his eyes
when he recognised me.
The Ruffians were apparently satisfied with their hideous work; but they
still stood about at the top of the Alley, laughing and talking, waiting
no doubt for their Blood Money. Oh! if wishes could have struck those
Miscreants dumb or blind or palsied, my feeble voice would have been
raised to Heaven, crying for Vengeance on such an infamous Deed. Hot
tears came coursing down my cheeks, my temples throbbed with pain and
Misery, as my arm stole round the trembling figure of my Friend.
Then all at once those tears were dried, the throbbing of my temples was
stilled. I felt no longer like a Man, but like a petrified Statue of
Indignation and of Hate. The sound of my Lord Stour's Voice had just
struck upon mine ear. Vaguely through the gloom I could see him and
Lord Douglas Wychwoode parleying with those abominable Ruffians.... I
heard the jingle of Money ... Blood Money ... the ring of ribald
laughter, snatches of a bibulous song.
These sounds and the clang of the Gentlemen's footsteps upon the
cobble-stones also reached Mr. Betterton's fast-fading Senses. I felt a
tremor coursing right through his limbs. With an almost superhuman
Effort, he pulled himself together and drew himself erect, still
clinging with both hands to my arms. By the time that the two young
Cavaliers had reached the end of the blind Alley, the outraged Man was
ready to confront them. Their presence there, those sounds of jingling
money and of laughter, had told him the whole abominable tale. He fought
against his Weakness, against Pain and against an impending Swoon. He
was still livid, but it was with Rage. His eyes had assumed an
unnatural Fire; his whole appearance as he stood there against the solid
background of the massive door, was sublime in its forceful Expression
of towering Wrath and of bitter, deadly Humiliation.
Even those two miserable Coxcombs paused for an instant, silenced and
awed by what they saw. The laughter died upon their lips; the studied
sneer upon their Face gave place to a transient expression of fear.
Mr. Betterton's arm was now extended and with trembling hand he pointed
at Lord Stour.
"'Tis You----" he murmured hoarsely. "You--who have done--this thing?"
"At your service," replied the young Man, with a lightness of manner
which was obviously forced and a great show of Haughtiness and of
Insolence. "My friend Lord Douglas here, has allowed me the privilege of
chastising a common Mountebank for daring to raise his eyes to the Lady
Barbara Wychwoode----"
At mention of the Lady's name, I felt Mr. Betterton's clutch on my arm
tighten convulsively.
"Does she----" he queried, "does she--know?"
"I forbid You," interposed Lord Douglas curtly, "to mention my Sister's
name in the matter."
"'Tis to my Lord Stour I am speaking," rejoined Mr. Betterton more
firmly. Then he added: "You will give me satisfaction for this outrage,
my Lord----"
"Satisfaction?" riposted his Lordship coolly. "What do you mean?"
"One of us has got to die because of this," Mr. Betterton said loudly.
Whereupon my Lord Stour burst into a fit of hilarious laughter, which
sounded as callous as it was forced.
"A Duel?" he almost shrieked, in a rasping voice. "Ha! ha! ha! a
Duel!!!--a duel with You? ... With Tom Betterton, the Son of a
Scullion.... By my faith! 'tis the best joke you ever made, Sir Actor
... 'tis worth repeating upon the Stage!"
But the injured Man waited unmoved until his Lordship's laughter died
down in a savage Oath. Then he said calmly:
"The day and hour, my Lord Stour?"
"This is folly, Sir," rejoined the young Cavalier coldly. "The Earl of
Stour can only cross swords with an Equal."
"In that case, my lord," was Mr. Betterton's calm reply, "you can only
cross swords henceforth with a Coward and a Liar."
"Damned, insolent cur!" cried Lord Stour, maddened with rage no doubt at
the other's calm contempt. He advanced towards us with arm
uplifted--then perhaps felt ashamed, or frightened--I know not which.
Certain it is that Lord Douglas succeeded in dragging him back a step or
two, whilst he said with well-studied contempt:
"Pay no further heed to the fellow, my Friend. He has had his
Punishment--do not bandy further Words with him."
He was for dragging Lord Stour away quickly now. I do believe that he
was ashamed of the abominable Deed. At any rate, he could not bear to
look upon the Man who had been so diabolically wronged.
"Come away, Man!" he kept reiterating at intervals. "Leave him alone!"
"One moment, my Lord," Mr. Betterton called out in a strangely powerful
tone of Voice. "I wish to hear your last Word."
By now we could hardly see one another. The Blind Alley was in almost
total gloom. Only against the fast-gathering dusk I could still see the
hated figures of the two young Cavaliers, their outlines blurred by the
evening haze. Lord Stour was certainly on the point of going; but at
Mr. Betterton's loudly spoken Challenge, he paused once more, then came
a step or two back towards us.
"My last Word?" he said coldly. Then he looked Mr. Betterton up and
down, his every Movement, his whole Attitude, a deadly Insult. "One
does not fight with such as You," he said, laughed, and would have
turned away immediately, only that Mr. Betterton, with a quick and
unforeseen Movement, suddenly reached forward and gripped him by the
Wrist.
"Insolent puppy!" he said in a whisper, so hoarse and yet so distinct
that not an Intonation, not a syllable of it was lost, "that knows not
the Giant it has awakened by its puny bark. You refuse to cross swords
with Tom Betterton, the son of a Menial, as you choose to say? Very
well, then, 'tis Thomas Betterton, the Artist of undying renown, who now
declares war against You. For every Jeer to-day, for every Insult and
for every Blow, he will be even with You; for he will launch against You
the irresistible Thunderbolt that kills worse than death and which is
called _Dishonour_! ... Aye! I will fight You, my Lord; not to your
death, but to your undying Shame. And now," he added more feebly, as he
threw his Lordship's arm away from him with a gesture of supreme
contempt, "go, I pray You, go! I'll not detain You any longer. You and
your friend are free to laugh for the last time to-day at the name which
I, with my Genius, have rendered immortal. Beware, my Lord! The
Ridicule that kills, the Obloquy which smirches worse than the impious
hands of paid Lacqueys. This is the Word of Tom Betterton, my Lord; the
first of his name, as you, please God, will be the last of yours!"
Then, without a groan, he fell, swooning, upon my shoulder. When
consciousness of my surroundings once more returned to me, I realized
that the two Gentlemen had gone.
CHAPTER VI
THE GATHERING STORM
1
It was after that never-to-be-forgotten Episode that Mr. Betterton
honoured me with his full and entire Confidence. At the moment that he
clung so pathetically to my feeble arms, he realized, I think for the
first time, what a devoted Friend he would always find in me. Something
of the powerful magical Fluid of my devotion must have emanated from my
Heart and reached his sensitive Perceptions. He knew from that hour
that, while I lived and had Health and Strength, I should never fail him
in Loyalty and willing Service.
Soon afterwards, if you remember, Mr. Betterton went again to Paris, by
command of His Majesty this time, there to study and to master the whole
Question of Scenery and scenic Effects upon the Stage, such as is
practised at the Theatre de Moliere in the great City. That he
acquitted himself of his task with Honour and Understanding goes without
saying. The rousing Welcome which the public of London gave him on his
return testified not only to his Worth but also to his Popularity.
The scenic Innovations, though daring and at times crudely realistic,
did, in the opinion of Experts, set off the art of Mr. Betterton to the
greatest possible Advantage. No doubt that his overwhelming Success at
that time was in a great measure due to his familiarity with all those
authentic-looking doors and trees and distant skies which at first
bewildered such old-fashioned actors as Mr. Harris or the two Messrs.
Noakes.
Never indeed had Mr. Betterton been so great as he was now. Never had
his Talents stood so high in the estimation of the cultured World. His
success as _Alvaro_ in "Love and Honour," as _Solyman_ in the "Siege of
Rhodes," as _Hamlett_ or _Pericles_, stand before me as veritable
Triumphs. Bouquets and Handkerchiefs, scented Notes and Love-tokens,
were showered upon the brilliant Actor as he stood upon the Stage,
proudly receiving the adulation of the Audience whom he had conquered by
the Magic of his Art.
His Majesty hardly ever missed a Performance at the new Duke's Theatre
when Mr. Betterton was acting, nor did my Lady Castlemaine, who was
shamelessly vowing about that time that she was prepared to bestow upon
the great Man any Favour he might ask of her.
2
But outwardly at any rate, Mr. Betterton had become a changed Man. His
robust Constitution and splendid Vitality did in truth overcome the
physical after-effects of the abominable Outrage of which he had been
the Victim; but the moral consequences upon his entire character and
demeanour were indeed incalculable. Of extraordinary purity in his mode
of living, it had been difficult, before that Episode, for evil Gossip
to besmirch his fair name, even in these lax and scandalous times. But
after that grim September afternoon it seemed as if he took pride in
emulating the least estimable characteristics of his Contemporaries.
His Majesty's avowed predilection for the great Actor brought the latter
into daily contact with all those noble and beautiful Ladies who graced
the Court and Society, more by virtue of their outward appearance than
of their inner worth. Scarce ever was a banquet or fete given at While
Hall now but Mr. Betterton was not one of the most conspicuous guests;
never a Supper party at my Lady Castlemaine's or my Lady Shrewsbury's
but the famous Actor was present there. He was constantly in the
company of His Grace of Buckingham, of my Lord Rochester and others of
those noble young Rakes; his name was constantly before the Public; he
was daily to be seen on the Mall, or in St. James's Park, or at the more
ceremonious parade in Hyde Park. His elegant clothes were the talk of
every young Gallant that haunted Fop's Corner; his sallies were quoted
by every Cavalier who strove for a reputation as a wit. In fact, dear
Lady, You know just as well as I do, that for that brief period of his
life Mr. Betterton became just one of the gay, idle, modish young Men
about town, one of that hard-drinking, gambling, scandal-mongering crowd
of Idlers, who were none of them fit to tie the lacets of his shoes.
I, who saw more and more of him in those days, knew, however, that all
that gay, butterfly Existence which he led was only on the surface. To
me he was like some poor Animal stricken by a mortal wound, who,
nevertheless, capers and gyrates before a grinning Public with
mechanical movements of the body that have nothing in common with the
mind.
3
Of the beautiful Lady Barbara I saw but little during the autumn.
There was much talk in the Town about her forthcoming Marriage to my
Lord of Stour, which was to take place soon after the New Year. Many
were the conjectures as to why so suitable a Marriage did not take place
immediately, and it seemed strange that so humble and insignificant a
Person as I was could even then have supplied the key to the riddle
which was puzzling so many noble Ladies and Gentlemen. I knew, in my
humble capacity as Spectator of great events, that the Marriage would
only take place after the vast and treasonable projects which had
originated in my Lord Douglas Wychwoode's turbulent mind had come to a
successful issue.
I often confided to You, dear Mistress, in those days that Mr.
Betterton, in the kindness of his Heart, had made me many an offer to
leave my present humdrum employment and to allow myself to be attached
to his Person as his private Secretary and personal Friend. For a long
time I refused his offers--tempting and generous though they
were--chiefly because if I had gone then to live with Mr. Betterton, I
should have been irretrievably separated from You. But in my Heart I
knew that, though the great Man was not in pressing need of a Secretary,
his soul did even long and yearn for a Friend. A more devoted one, I
vow, did not exist than my humble self; and when, during the early part
of the autumn, You, dear Mistress, finally decided to leave your present
uncomfortable quarters for lodgings more befitting your growing Fame and
your Talents, there was nothing more to keep me tied to my dour and
unsympathetic Employer, and to his no less unpleasant Spouse.
I therefore gave Mr. Theophilus Baggs notice that I had resolved to quit
his Employ, hoping that my Decision would meet with his Convenience.
I could not help laughing to myself when I saw the manner in which he
received this Announcement. To say that he was surprised and indignant
would be to put it mildly; indeed, he used every Mode of persuasion to
try and make me alter my decision. He began by chiding me for an
Ingrate, vowing that he had taught me all I knew and had lavished Money
and Luxuries upon me, and that I was proposing to leave him just when
the time had come for him to see some slight return for his Expenditure
and for his pains, in my growing Efficiency. He went on to persuade, to
cajole and to bribe, Mistress Euphrosine joining him both in
Vituperation and in Unctuousness. But, as You know, I was adamant. I
knew the value of all this soft-sawder and mouth-honour. I had suffered
too many Hardships and too many Indignities at the hands of these
selfish Sycophants, to turn a deaf ear now that friendship and mine own
future happiness called to me so insistently.
Finally, however, I yielded to the extent of agreeing to stay a further
three months in the service of Mr. Baggs, whilst he took steps to find
another Clerk who would suit his purpose. But I only agreed to this on
the condition that I was to be allowed a fuller amount of personal
Freedom than I had enjoyed hitherto; that I should not be set any longer
to do menial tasks, which properly pertained to a Scullion; and that,
whenever my clerical work for the day was done, I should be at liberty
to employ my time as seemed best to me.
Thus it was that I had a certain amount of leisure, and after You left
us, fair Mistress, I was able to take my walks abroad, there where I was
fairly certain of meeting You, or of having a glimpse of Mr. Betterton,
surrounded by his brilliant Friends.
Often, dear Mistress, did You lavish some of your precious time and
company upon the seedy Attorney's Clerk, who of a truth was not worthy
to be seen walking in the Park or in Mulberry Gardens beside the
beautiful and famous Mistress Saunderson, who by this time had quite as
many Followers and Adorers as any virtuous Woman could wish for. You
never mentioned Mr. Betterton to me in those days, even though I knew
that You must often have been thrown in his Company, both in the Theatre
and in Society. That your love for him had not died in your Heart, I
knew from the wistful look which was wont to come into your eyes
whenever You chanced to meet him in the course of a Promenade. You
always returned his respectful and elaborate bow on those occasions with
cool Composure; but as soon as he had passed by and his rich, mellow
Voice, so easily distinguishable amongst others, had died away in the
distance, I, who knew every line of your lovely face, saw the familiar
look of Sorrow and of bitter Disappointment once more mar its perfect
serenity.
4
We had an unusually mild and prolonged autumn this past year, if you
remember, fair Mistress; and towards the end of October there were a few
sunny days which were the veritable aftermath of Summer. The London
Parks and Gardens were crowded day after day with Ladies and Gallants,
decked in their gayest attire, for the time to don winter clothing still
appeared remote.
I used to be fond of watching all these fair Ladies and dazzling
Cavaliers, and did so many a time on those bright mornings whilst
waiting to see You pass. On one occasion I saw the Lady Barbara
Wychwoode, in company with my Lord Stour.
Heaven knows I have no cause to think kindly of her; but truth compels
me to say that she appeared to me more beautiful than ever before. She
and his Lordship had found two chairs, up against a tree, somewhat apart
from the rest of the glittering throng. I, as a Spectator, could see
that they were supremely happy in one another's company.
"How sweet the air is!" she was sighing contentedly. "More like spring
than late autumn. Ah, me! How happily one could dream!"
She threw him a witching glance, which no doubt sent him straight to
Heaven, for I heard him say with passionate earnestness:
"Of what do Angels dream, my beloved?"
They continued to whisper, and I of course did not catch all that they
said. My Lord Stour was obviously very deeply enamoured of the Lady
Barbara. Because of this I seemed to hate and despise him all the more.
Oh! when the whole World smiled on him, when Fortune and Destiny
showered their most precious gifts into his lap, what right had he to
mar the soul which God had given him with such base Passions as Jealousy
and Cruelty? With his monstrous Act of unwarrantable violence he had
ruined the happiness of a Man greater, finer than himself; he had warped
a noble disposition, soured a gentle and kindly spirit. Oh! I hated
him! I hated him! God forgive me, but I had not one spark of Christian
spirit for him within my heart. If it lay in my power, I knew that I was
ready to do him an Injury.
From time to time I heard snatches of his impassioned speeches.
"Barbara, my beloved! Oh, God! how I love You!" Or else: "'Tis
unspeakable joy to look into your eyes, joyous madness to hold your
little hand!" And more of such stuff, as Lovers know how to use.
And she, too, looked supremely happy. There was a sparkle in her eyes
which spoke of a Soul intoxicated with delight. She listened to him as
if every word from his lips was heaven-sent Manna to her hungering
heart. And I marvelled why this should be; why she should listen to
this self-sufficient, empty-headed young Coxcomb and have rejected with
such bitter scorn the suit of a Man worthy in every sense to be the Mate
of a Queen. And I thought then of Mr. Betterton kneeling humbly before
her, his proud Head bent before this ignorant and wilful Girl, who had
naught but cruel words for him on her lips. And a great wrath possessed
me, greater than it ever had been before. I suppose that I am very
wicked and that the Devil of Revenge had really possessed himself of my
Soul; but then and there, under the trees, with the translucent Dome of
blue above me, I vowed bitter hatred against those two, vowed that Fate
should be even with them if I, the humble Clerk, could have a say in her
decrees.
5
Just now, they were like two Children playing at love. He was insistent
and bold, tried to draw her to him, to kiss her in sight of the
fashionable throng that promenaded up and down the Avenue less than
fifty yards away.
"A murrain on the Conventions!" he said with a light laugh, as she
chided him for his ardour. "I want the whole Universe to be witness of
my joy."
She placed her pretty hand playfully across his mouth.
"Hush, my dear Lord," she said with wonderful tenderness. "Heaven
itself, they say, is oft times jealous to see such Happiness as ours....
And I am so happy..." she continued with a deep sigh, "so happy that
sometimes a horrible presentiment seems to grip my heart..."
"Presentiment of what, dear love?" he queried lightly.
I did not catch what she said in reply, for just at that moment I caught
sight of Mr. Betterton walking at a distant point of the Avenue, in the
Company of a number of admiring Friends.
They were hanging round him, evidently vastly amused by some witty
sallies of his. Never had I seen him look more striking and more
brilliant. He wore a magnificent coat of steel-grey velvet with richly
embroidered waistcoat, and a cravat and frills of diaphanous lace,
whilst the satin breeches, silk stockings and be-ribboned shoes set off
his shapely limbs to perfection. His Grace of Buckingham was walking
beside him, and he had my Lady Shrewsbury upon his arm, whilst among his
Friends I recognised my Lords Orrery and Buckhurst, and the Lord
Chancellor himself.
The Lady Barbara caught sight of Mr. Betterton, too, I imagine, for as I
moved away, I heard her say in a curiously constrained voice:
"That man--my Lord--he is your deadly Enemy."
"Bah!" he retorted with a careless shrug of the shoulders. "Actors are
like toothless, ill-tempered curs. They bark, but they are powerless to
bite!"
Oh, I hated him! Heavens above! how I hated him!
How puny and insignificant he was beside his unsuccessful Rival should
of a surety have been apparent even to the Lady Barbara. Even now, Mr.
Betterton, with a veritable crowd of Courtiers around him, had come to a
halt not very far from where those two were sitting; and it was very
characteristic of him that, even whilst the Duke of Buckingham was
whispering in his ear and the Countess of Shrewsbury was smiling archly
at him, his eyes having found me, he nodded and waved his hand to me.
6
A minute or two later, another group of Ladies and Gallants, amongst
whom Her Grace the Duchess of York was conspicuous by her elegance and
the richness of her attire, literally swooped down upon Mr. Betterton
and his Friends, and Her Grace's somewhat high-pitched voice came
ringing shrilly to mine ear.
"Ah, Mr. Betterton!" she exclaimed. "Where have you hid yourself since
yesterday, you wicked, adorable Man? And I, who wished to tell you how
entirely splendid was your performance in that supremely dull play you
call 'Love and Honour.' You were superb, Sir, positively superb! ... I
was telling His Grace a moment ago that every Actor in the world is a
mere Mountebank when compared with Mr. Betterton's Genius."
And long did she continue in the same strain, most of the Ladies and
Gentlemen agreeing with her and engaging in a chorus of Eulogy, all
delivered in high falsetto voices, which in the olden days, when first I
knew him, would have set Mr. Betterton's very teeth on edge. But now he
took up the ball of airy talk, tossed it back to the Ladies, bowed low
and kissed Her Grace's hand--I could see that she gave his a significant
pressure--gave wit for wit and flattery for flattery.
He had of a truth made a great success the day before in a play called
"Love and Honour," writ by Sir William Davenant, when His Majesty
himself lent his own Coronation Suit to the great Actor, so that he
might worthily represent the part of _Prince Alvaro_. This Success put
the crowning Glory to his reputation, although in my humble opinion it
was unworthy of so great an Artist as Mr. Betterton to speak the
Epilogue which he had himself written in eulogy of the Countess of
Castlemaine, and which he delivered with such magnificent Diction at the
end of the Play, that His Majesty waxed quite enthusiastic in his
applause.
7
Standing somewhat apart from that dazzling group, I noticed my Lord
Douglas Wychwoode, in close conversation with my Lord Teammouth and
another Gentleman, who was in clerical attire. After awhile, my Lord
Stour joined them, the Lady Barbara having apparently slipped away
unobserved.
My Lord Stour was greeted by his friends with every mark of cordiality.
"Ah!" the Cleric exclaimed, and extended both his hands--which were
white and plump--to my Lord. "Here is the truant at last!" Then he
waxed playful, put up an accusing finger and added with a smirking
laugh: "Meseems I caught sight of a petticoat just behind those trees,
where his Lordship himself had been apparently communing with Nature,
eh?"
Whereupon my Lord Teammouth went on, not unkindly and in that dogmatic
way which he was pleased to affect: "Youth will ever smile, even in the
midst of dangers; and my Lord Stour is a great favourite with the
Ladies."
Lord Douglas Wychwoode was as usual petulant and impatient, and rejoined
angrily:
"Even the Castlemaine has tried to cast her nets around him."
My Lord Stour demurred, but did not try to deny the soft impeachment.
"Only because I am new at Court," he said, "and have no eyes for her
beauty."
This, of course, was News to me. I am so little versed in Court and
Society gossip and had not heard the latest piece of scandal, which
attributed to the Lady Castlemaine a distinct _penchant_ for the young
Nobleman. Not that it surprised me altogether. The newly created
Countess of Castlemaine, who was receiving favours from His Majesty the
King with both hands, never hesitated to deceive him, and even to render
him ridiculous by flaunting her predilections for this or that young
Gallant who happened to have captured her wayward fancy. My Lord
Sandwich, Colonel Hamilton, the handsome Mr. Wycherley, and even such a
vulgar churl as Jacob Hill, the rope dancer, had all, at one time or
another, been favoured with the lady's fitful smiles, and while
responding to her advances with the Ardour born of Cupidity or of a
desire for self-advancement rather than of true love, they had for the
most part lost some shreds of their Reputation and almost all of their
Self-respect.
But at the moment I paid no heed to Lord Douglas' taunt levelled at his
Friend, nor at the latter's somewhat careless way of Retort. In fact,
the whole Episode did not then impress itself upon my mind, and it was
only in face of later events that I was presently to be reminded of it
all.
8
For the moment I was made happy by renewed kindly glances from Mr.
Betterton. It seemed as if his eyes had actually beckoned to me, so I
made bold to advance nearer to the dazzling group of Ladies and
Gentlemen that stood about, talking--jabbering, I might say, like a
number of gay-plumaged birds, for they seemed to me irresponsible and
unintellectual in their talk.
Of course, I could not hear everything, and I had to try and make my
unfashionably attired Person as inconspicuous as possible. So I drew a
book from my pocket, one that looked something like a Greek Lexicon,
though in truth it was a collection of Plays writ by the late Mr.
William Shakespeare, in one or two of which--notably in one called
"Hamlett"--Mr. Betterton had scored some of his most conspicuous
Triumphs.
The book, and my seeming absorption in it, gave me the countenance of an
earnest young Student intent on the perusal of Classics, even whilst it
enabled me to draw quite near to the brilliant Throng of Distinguished
People, who, if they paid any heed to me at all, would find excuses for
my Presumption in my obvious earnest Studiousness. I was also able to
keep some of my attention fixed upon Mr. Betterton, who was surrounded
by admiring Friends; whilst at some little distance close by, I could
see Mr. Harris--also of the Duke's Theatre--who was holding forth in a
didactic manner before a group of Ladies and gay young Sparks, even
though they were inclined to mock him because of his Conceit in pitting
his talent against that of Mr. Betterton.
There was no doubt that a couple of years ago Mr. Harris could be, and
was considered, the greatest Actor of his time; but since Mr. Betterton
had consolidated his own triumph by playing the parts of _Pericles_, of
_Hamlett_ and of _Prince Alvaro_ in "Love and Honour," the older Actor's
reputation had undoubtedly suffered by comparison with the Genius of his
younger Rival, at which of course he was greatly incensed. I caught
sight now and then of his florid face, so different in expression to Mr.
Betterton's more spiritual-looking countenance, and from time to time
his pompous, raucous voice reached my ears, as did the more strident,
high-pitched voices of the Ladies. I heard one young Lady say, to the
accompaniment of some pretty, mincing gestures:
"Mr. Betterton was positively rapturous last night ... enchanting! You,
Mr. Harris, will in truth have to look to your laurels."
And an elderly Lady, a Dowager of obvious consideration and dignity,
added in tones which brooked of no contradiction:
"My opinion is that there never has been or ever will be a Player equal
to Mr. Betterton in Purity of Diction and Elegance of Gesture. He hath
indeed raised our English Drama to the level of High Art."
I could have bowed low before her and kissed her hand for this; aye! and
have paid homage, too, to all these gaily-dressed Butterflies who, in
truth, had more Intellectuality in them than I had given them credit
for. Every word of Eulogy of my beloved Friend was a delight to my
soul. I felt mine eyes glowing with enthusiasm and had grave difficulty
in keeping them fixed upon my book.
I had never liked Mr. Harris personally, for I was wont to think his
conceit quite overweening beside the unalterable modesty of Mr.
Betterton, who was so incomparably his Superior; and I was indeed
pleased to see that both the Dowager Lady--who, I understood, was the
Marchioness of Badlesmere--and the younger Ladies and Gentlemen felt
mischievously inclined to torment him.
"What is your opinion, Mr. Harris?" my Lady Badlesmere was saying to the
discomfited Actor. "It would be interesting to know one Player's opinion
of another."
She had a spy-glass, through which she regarded him quizzically, whilst
a mocking smile played around her thin lips. This, no doubt, caused
poor Mr. Harris to lose countenance, for as a rule he is very glib of
tongue. But just now he mouthed and stammered, appeared unable to find
his words.
"It cannot be denied, your Ladyship," he began sententiously enough,
"that Mr. Betterton's gestures are smooth and pleasant, though they
perhaps lack the rhythmic grandeur ... the dignified sweep ... of ... of
... the..."
He was obviously floundering, and the old Lady broke in with a rasping
laugh and a tone of somewhat acid sarcasm.
"Of the gestures of Mr. Harris, you mean, eh?"
"No, Madam," he retorted testily, and distinctly nettled. "I was about
to say 'of the gestures of our greatest Actors.'"
"Surely the same thing, dear Mr. Harris," a young Lady rejoined with
well-assumed demureness, and dropped him a pert little curtsey.
I might have been sorry for the Man--for of a truth these small
pin-pricks must have been very irritating to his Vanity, already sorely
wounded by a younger Rival's triumph--but for the fact that he then
waxed malicious, angered no doubt by hearing a veritable Chorus of
Eulogy proceeding from that other group of Ladies and Gentlemen of which
Mr. Betterton was the centre.
I do not know, as a matter of fact, who it was who first gave a spiteful
turning to the bantering, mocking Conversation of awhile ago; but in my
mind I attributed this malice to Lord Douglas Wychwoode, who came up
with his clerical friend just about this time, in order to pay his
respects to the Marchioness of Badlesmere, who, I believe, is a near
Relative of his. Certain it is that very soon after his arrival upon
the scene, I found that every one around him was talking about the
abominable Episode, the very thought of which sent my blood into a Fever
and my thoughts running a veritable riot of Revenge and of Hate. Of
course, Mr. Harris was to the fore with pointed Allusions to the grave
Insult done to an eminent Artist, and which, to my thinking, should have
been condemned by every right-minded Man or Woman who had a spark of
lofty feeling in his or her heart.
"Ah, yes!" one of the Ladies was saying; "I heard about it at the time
... a vastly diverting story...."
"Which went the round of the Court," added another.
"Mr. Betterton's shoulders," a gay young Spark went on airily, "are said
to be still very sore."
"And his usually equable Temper the sorer of the two."
Lord Douglas did not say much, but I felt his spiteful Influence running
as an undercurrent through all that flippant talk.
"Faith!" concluded one of the young Gallants, "were I my Lord Stour, I
would not care to have Mr. Betterton for an enemy."
"An Actor can hit with great accuracy and harshness from the Stage," Mr.
Harris went on pompously. "He speaks words which a vast Public hears
and goes on to repeat _ad infinitum_. Thus a man's--aye! or a
Lady's--reputation can be made or marred by an Epilogue spoken by a
popular Player at the end of a Drama. We all remember the case of Sir
William Liscard, after he had quarrelled with Mr. Kynaston."
Whereupon that old story was raked up, how Mr. Kynaston had revenged
himself for an insult upon him by Sir William Liscard by making pointed
Allusions from the Stage to the latter's secret intrigue with some
low-class wench, and to the Punishment which was administered to him by
the wench's vulgar lover. The Allusions were unmistakable, because that
punishment had taken the form of a slit nose, and old Sir William had
appeared in Society one day with a piece of sticking plaster across the
middle of his face.
Well, we all know what happened after that. Sir William, covered with
Ridicule, had to leave London for awhile and bury himself in the depths
of the Country, for, in Town he could not show his face in the streets
but he was greeted with some vulgar lampoon or ribald song, hurled at
him by passing roisterers. It all ended in a Tragedy, for Lady Liscard
got to hear of it, and there was talk of Divorce proceedings, which
would have put Sir William wholly out of Court--His Majesty being
entirely averse to the dissolution of any legal Marriage.
But all this hath naught to do with my story, and I only recount the
matter to You to show You how, in an instant, the temper of all these
great Ladies and Gentlemen can be swayed by the judicious handling of an
evil-minded Person.
All these Ladies and young Rakes, who awhile ago were loud in their
praises of a truly great Man, now found pleasure in throwing mud at him,
ridiculing and mocking him shamefully, seeing that, had he been amongst
them, he would soon have confounded them with his Wit and brought them
back to Allegiance by his magic Personality.
Once again I heard a distinct Allusion to the Countess of Castlemaine's
avowed predilection for Lord Stour. It came from one of the Cavaliers,
who said to Lord Douglas, with an affected little laugh:
"Perhaps my Lord Stour would do well to place himself unreservedly under
the protection of Lady Castlemaine! 'Tis said that she is more than
willing to extend her Favours to him."
"Nay! Stour hath nothing to fear," Lord Douglas replied curtly. "He
stands far above a mere Mountebank's spiteful pin-pricks."
Oh! had but God given me the power to strike such a Malapert dumb! I
looked around me, marvelling if there was not one sane Person here who
would stand up in the defence of a great and talented Artist against
this jabbering of irresponsible Monkeys.
9
I must admit, however, that directly Mr. Betterton appeared upon the
scene the tables were quickly turned once more on Mr. Harris, and even
on Lord Douglas, for Mr. Betterton is past Master in the art of wordy
Warfare, and, moreover, has this great Advantage, that he never loses
control over his Temper. No malicious shaft aimed at him will ever
ruffle his Equanimity, and whilst his Wit is most caustic, he invariably
retains every semblance of perfect courtesy.
He now had the Duchess of York on his arm, and His Grace of Buckingham
had not left his side. His Friends were unanimously chaffing him about
that Epilogue which he had spoken last night, and which had so delighted
the Countess of Castlemaine. My Lord Buckhurst and Sir William Davenant
were quoting pieces out of it, whilst I could only feel sorry that so
great a Man had lent himself to such unworthy Flattery.
"'Divinity, radiant as the stars!'" Lord Buckhurst quoted with a laugh.
"By gad, you Rogue, you did not spare your words."
Mr. Betterton frowned almost imperceptibly, and I, his devoted Admirer,
guessed that he was not a little ashamed of the fulsome Adulation which
he had bestowed on so unworthy an Object, and I was left to marvel
whether some hidden purpose as yet unknown to me had actuated so
high-minded an Artist thus to debase the Art which he held so dear. It
was evident, however, that the whole Company thought that great things
would come from that apparently trivial incident.
"My Lady Castlemaine," said Sir William Davenant, "hath been wreathed in
smiles ever since you spoke that Epilogue. She vows that there is
nothing she would not do for You. And, as already You are such a
favourite with His Majesty, why, Man! there is no end to your good
fortune."
And I, who watched Mr. Betterton's face again, thought to detect a
strange, mysterious look in his eyes--something hidden and brooding was
going on behind that noble brow, something that was altogether strange
to the usually simple, unaffected and sunny temperament of the great
Artist, and which I, his intimate Confidant and Friend, had not yet been
able to fathom.
Whenever I looked at him these days, I was conscious as of a sultry
Summer's day, when nature is outwardly calm and every leaf on every tree
is still. It is only to those who are initiated in the mysteries of the
Skies that the distant oncoming Storm is revealed by a mere speck of
cloud or a tiny haze upon the Bosom of the Firmament, which hath no
meaning to the unseeing eye, but which foretells that the great forces
of Nature are gathering up their strength for the striking of a
prodigious blow.
CHAPTER VII
AN ASSEMBLY OF TRAITORS
1
I, in the meanwhile, had relegated the remembrance of Lord Douglas
Wychwoode and his treasonable Undertakings to a distant cell of my mind.
I had not altogether forgotten them, but had merely ceased to think upon
the Subject.
I was still nominally in the employ of Mr. Baggs, but he had engaged a
new Clerk--a wretched, puny creature, whom Mistress Euphrosine already
held in bondage--and I was to leave his Service definitely at the end of
the month.
In the meanwhile, my chief task consisted in initiating the aforesaid
wretched and puny Clerk into the intricacies of Mr. Theophilus Baggs'
business. The boy was slow-witted and slow to learn, and Mr. Baggs, who
would have liked to prove to me mine own Worthlessness, was nevertheless
driven into putting some of his more important work still in my charge.
Thus it came to pass that all his Correspondence with Lord Douglas
Wychwoode went through my Hands, whereby I was made aware that the
Traitors--for such in truth they were--were only waiting for a
favourable opportunity to accomplish their damnable Purpose.
They meant to kidnap His Majesty's sacred Person, to force him to sign
an Abdication in favour of the son of Mistress Barlow--now styled the
Duke of Monmouth--with the Prince of Orange as Regent during the Duke's
minority.
A more abominable and treasonable Project it were impossible to
conceive, and many a wrestling match did I have with mine own
Conscience, whilst debating whether it were my Duty or no to betray the
confidence which had been reposed in me, and to divulge the terrible
Secret of that execrable plot, which threatened the very life of His
Majesty the King.
I understood that the Manifestos which it had been my task to
multiplicate, had met with some success. Several Gentlemen, who held
rigidly Protestant views, had promised their support to a project which
ostensibly aimed at the overthrow of the last vestiges of Popery in the
Country. My Lord Stour, who had also become a firm Adherent of the
nefarious scheme, in deference, I presume, to the Lady Barbara's wishes
in the matter, had, it seems, rendered valuable service to the cause, by
travelling all over the Country, seeing these proposed Adherents in
person and distributing the fiery Manifestos which were to rally the
Waverers to the cause.
I imagined, however, that the whole project was in abeyance for the
moment, for I had heard but little of it of late; until one day I
happened to be present when the Conspirators met in the house of Mr.
Theophilus Baggs.
How it came to pass that these Gentlemen--who were literally playing
with their lives in their nefarious undertaking--talked thus openly of
their Plans and Projects in my hearing, I do not pretend to say. It is
certain that they did not suspect me; thought me one of themselves, no
doubt, since I had written out the Manifestos and was Clerk to Mr.
Baggs, who was with them Body and Soul. No doubt, had Mr. Baggs been on
the spot on that day, he would have warned the Traitors of my presence,
and much of what happened subsequently would never have occurred.
Thus doth Fate at times use simple tools to gain her own ends, and it
was given to an insignificant Attorney's Clerk to rule, for this one
day, the future Destinies of England.
2
My Lord Stour was present on that memorable afternoon. I am betraying
no Secret nor doing him an injury by saying that, because his connection
with the Affair is of public knowledge, as is that of Lord Douglas
Wychwoode. The names of the other Gentlemen whom I saw in Mr. Baggs'
room that day I will, by your leave, keep hidden behind the veil of
Anonymity, contenting myself by calling the most important among them my
Lord S., and another Sir J., whilst there was also present on that
occasion the gentleman in clerical Attire whom I had seen of late in
Lord Douglas' Company, and who was none other than the Lord Bishop of D.
My Lord Stour was in great favour amongst them all. Every one was
praising him and shaking him by the hand. His Lordship the Bishop took
it upon himself to say, as he did most incisively:
"Gentlemen! I am proud and happy to affirm that it is to the Earl of
Stour that we shall owe to-night the Success of our Cause. It is he who
has distributed our Appeal and helped to rally round us some of our most
loyal Friends!"
Lord Stour demurred, deprecated his own efforts. His Attitude was both
modest and firm; I had not thought him capable of so much Nobility of
Manner.
But, believe me, dear Mistress, that I felt literally confounded by what
I heard. Mr. Baggs, who had pressing business in town that day, had
commanded me to remain at home in order to receive certain Gentlemen who
were coming to visit him. I had introduced some half-dozen of them, and
they had all gone into the inner office, but left the communicating door
between that room and the parlour wide open, apparently quite
acquiescing in my presence there. In fact, they had all nodded very
familiarly to me as they entered; evidently they felt absolutely certain
of my Discretion. This, as you will readily understand, placed me in a
terrible Predicament. Where lay my duty, I did not know; for, in truth,
to betray the Confidence of those who trust in You is a mean and low
trick, unworthy of a right-minded Christian. At the same time, there
was His Majesty the King's own sacred Person in peril, and that, as far
as I could gather, on this very night; and surely it became equally the
duty of every loyal Subject in the land to try and protect his Sovereign
from the nefarious attacks of Traitors!
Be that as it may, however, I do verily believe that if my Lord--Stour
whom I hated with so deadly a hatred, and who had done my dear, dear
Friend such an irreparable injury--if he, I say, had not been mixed up
in the Affair, I should have done my duty as a Christian rather than as
a subject of the State.
But You, dear Mistress, shall be judge of mine actions, for they have a
direct bearing upon those subsequent events which have brought Mr.
Betterton once again to your feet.
I have said that my Lord Stour received his Friends' congratulations and
gratitude with becoming Modesty; but his Lordship the Bishop and also
Lord S. insisted.
"It is thanks to your efforts, my dear Stour," Lord S. said, "that at
last success is assured."
"But for you," added the Bishop, "our plan to-night might have
miscarried."
My God! I thought, then it _is_ for to-night! And I felt physically
sick, whilst wondering what I should do. Even then, Lord Douglas
Wychwoode's harsh Voice came quite clearly to mine ear.
"The day is ours!" he said, with a note of triumph in his tone. "Ere
the sun rises again over our downtrodden Country, her dissolute King and
his Minions will be in our hands!"
"Pray God it may be so!" assented one of the others piously.
"It shall and will be so," protested Lord Douglas with firm emphasis.
"I know for a fact that the King sups with the Castlemaine to-night.
Well! we are quite ready. By ten o'clock we shall have taken up our
Positions. These have all been most carefully thought out. Some of us
will be in hiding in the Long Avenue in the Privy Garden; others under
the shadow of the Wall of the Bowling Green; whilst others again have
secured excellent points of vantage in King Street. I am in command of
the Party, and I give you my word that my Company is made up of young
Enthusiasts. They, like ourselves, have had enough of this corrupt and
dissolute Monarch, who ought never to have been allowed to ascend the
Throne which his Father had already debased."
"You will have to be careful of the Night Watchmen about the Gardens,
and of the Bodyguard at the Gate," one of the Gentlemen broke in.
"Of course we'll be careful," Lord Douglas riposted impatiently. "We
have minimized our risks as far as we are able. But the King, when he
sups with the Castlemaine, usually goes across to her House unattended.
Sometimes he takes a Man with him across the Privy Gardens, but
dismisses him at the back door of Her Ladyship's House. As for the City
Watchmen over in King Street, they will give us no trouble. If they do,
we can easily overpower them. The whole thing is really perfectly
simple," he added finally; "and the only reason why we have delayed
execution is because we wanted as many Sympathizers here in London as
possible."
"Now," here interposed His Lordship the Bishop, "thanks to my Lord
Stour's efforts, a number of our Adherents have come up from the country
and have obtained lodgings in various Quarters of the town, so that
to-morrow morning, when we proclaim the Duke of Monmouth King and the
Prince of Orange Regent of the Realm, we shall be in sufficient numbers
to give to our successful Coup the appearance of a national movement."
"Personally," rejoined Lord Douglas, with something of a sneer, "I think
that the Populace will be very easily swayed. The Castlemaine is not
popular. The King is; but it is a factitious Popularity, and one easily
blown upon, once we have his Person safely out of the way. And we must
remember that the 'No Popery' cry is still a very safe card to play with
the mob," he added with a dry laugh.
Then they all fell to and discussed their abominable Plans all over
again; whilst I, bewildered, wretched, indignant, fell on my knees and
marvelled, pondered what I should do. My pulses were throbbing, my head
was on fire; I had not the faculty for clear thinking. And there, in
the next room, not ten paces away from where I knelt in mute and
agonized Prayer, six Men were planning an outrage against their King;
amidst sneers and mirthless laughter and protestations of loyalty to
their Country, they planned the work of Traitors. They drew their
Swords and there was talk of invoking God's blessing upon their
nefarious Work.
God's blessing! Methought 'twas Blasphemy, and I put my hands up to
mine ears lest I should hear those solemn words spoken by a consecrated
Bishop of our Church, and which called for the Almighty's help to
accomplish a second Regicide.
Aye! A Regicide! What else was it? as all those fine Gentlemen knew
well enough in their hearts. Would not the King resist? He was young
and vigorous. Would he not call for help? Had not my Lady Castlemaine
Servants who would rush to His Majesty's assistance? What then? Was
there to be murder once more, and bloodshed and rioting--fighting such
as we poor Citizens of this tortured land had hoped was behind us
forever?
And if it came to a hand-to-hand scuffle with the King's most Sacred
Majesty? My God! I shuddered to think what would happen then!
There was a mighty humming in my ears, like the swarm of myriads of
bees; a red veil gradually spread before my eyes, which obscured the
familiar Surroundings about me. Through the haze which gradually
o'er-clouded my brain, I heard the voices of those Traitors droning out
their blasphemous Oaths.
"Swear only to draw your swords in this just cause, and not to shed
unnecessary blood!"
And then a chorus which to my ears sounded like the howling of Evil
Spirits let loose from hell:
"We swear!"
"Then may God's blessing rest upon You. May His Angels guard and
protect You and give You the strength to accomplish what You purpose to
do!"
There was a loud and prolonged "Amen!" But I waited no longer. I rose
from my knees, suddenly calm and resolved. Do not laugh at me, dear
Mistress, for my conceit and my presumption when I say that I felt that
the destinies of England rested in my hands.
Another Regicide! Oh, my God! Another era of civil Strife and military
Dictatorship such as we had endured in the past decade! Another era of
Suspicions and Jealousies and Intrigues between the many Factions who
would wish to profit by this abominable crime! It was unthinkable.
Whether the King was God's Anointed or not, I, for one, am too ignorant
to decide; but this I know, that the Stuart Prince was chosen little
more than a year ago by the will of his People, that he returned to
England acclaimed and beloved by this same Populace which was now to be
egged on to treason against him by a handful of ambitious Malcontents,
who did not themselves know what it was they wanted.
No! It should not be! Not while there existed an humble and puny
subject of this Realm who had it in his power to put a spoke in the
wheel of that Chariot of Traitors.
Ah! there was no more wavering in my heart now! no more doubts and
hesitation! I would not be betraying the confidence of a trusting Man;
merely disposing of a secret which Chance had tossed carelessly in my
path--a Secret which pertained to abominable Miscreants, one of whom was
the man whom I detested more than any one or anything on God's earth--a
flippant, arrogant young Reprobate who had dared to level a deadly
insult against a Man infinitely his superior in Intellect and in Worth,
and before whom now he should be made to lick the dust of Ignominy.
I was now perfectly calm. From my desk I took a copy of the Manifesto
which had remained in my possession all this while. I read the contents
through very carefully, so as to refresh my memory. Then I took up my
pen and, at the foot of the treasonable document, I wrote the word:
"To-night." Having done that, I took a sheet of notepaper and carefully
wrote down the names of all the Gentlemen who were even now in the next
room, and of several others whom I had heard mentioned by the Traitors
in the course of their Conversation. The two papers I folded carefully
and closed them down with sealing wax.
My hand did not shake whilst I did all this. I was perfectly
deliberate, for my mind was irrevocably made up. When I had completed
these preparations, I slipped the precious Documents into my pocket,
took up my hat and cloak, and went out to accomplish the Errand which I
had set myself to do.
CHAPTER VIII
THE LION'S WRATH
1
His Majesty the King was, of course, inaccessible to such as I. And the
time was short.
Did I say that the hour was even then after six? The streets were very
dark, for overhead the sky was overcast, and as I walked rapidly down
the Lane to the Temple Stairs, a thin, penetrating drizzle began to
fall.
My first thought had been to take boat to Westminster and to go to the
house of Mr. Betterton in Tothill Street, there to consult with him as
to what would be my best course to pursue. But I feel sure that You,
dear Mistress, will understand me when I say that I felt a certain pride
in keeping my present Project to myself.
I was not egotistical enough to persuade myself that love of Country and
loyalty to my King were the sole motive powers of my Resolve. My
innermost Heart, my Conscience perhaps, told me that an ugly Desire for
Revenge had helped to stimulate my patriotic Ardour. I had realized
that it lay in my power to avenge upon an impious Malapert the hideous
Outrage which he had perpetrated against the Man whom I loved best in
all the World.
I had realized, in fact, that I could become the instrument of Mr.
Betterton's revenge.
That my Denunciation of the abominable Conspiracy would involve the
Disgrace--probably the Death--of others who were nothing to me, I did
not pause to consider. They were all Traitors, anyhow, and all of them
deserving of punishment.
So, on the whole, I decided to act for myself. When I had seen the
Countess of Castlemaine and had put her on her guard, I would go to Mr.
Betterton and tell him what I had done.
I beg you to believe, however, dear Mistress, that no thought of any
reward had entered my mind, other than a Word of Appreciation from my
Friend.
2
I had, as perhaps you know, a slight acquaintance with Mistress Floid,
who is one of my Lady Castlemaine's tire-women. Through her, I obtained
speech with her Ladyship.
It was not very difficult. I sent in the two Documents through Mistress
Floid's hands. Five minutes later I was told that my Lady desired
speech with me.
I was a little bewildered and somewhat dazzled to be in the presence of
so great a lady. The richness of the House, the liveries of the
Servants, the superciliousness of the Lacqueys, all tended to discompose
me; whilst the subtle Scent of Spice and Perfumes which hung in the air
and the chorus of bird-song which came from an unseen Aviary, helped to
numb my Senses. I was thankful that I had not trusted to Speech and
Memory, but had set documentary Evidence forward to prove what I had to
say.
Of my interview with her Ladyship I have only a confused memory. I know
that she asked many questions and listened to my stammering replies with
obvious impatience; but I have only a very vague recollection of her
flashing Eyes, of her Face, flaming with anger, of her jewelled Hand
clutching the documents which I had brought, and of the torrent of
vituperative abuse which she poured upon the Traitors, who she vowed
would pay with their lives for their Infamy. I know that, in the end, I
was allowed to kiss her hand and that she thanked me in her own Name and
that of His Majesty for my Loyalty and my Discretion.
I went out of the room and out of the house like a Man in a dream. A
whirl of conflicting Emotions was rending my heart and my brain, until
sheer physical nausea caused me nigh to swoon.
Truly it was a terrible Experience for a simple-minded Clerk to go
through, and it is a marvel to me that my brain did not give way under
the Strain.
But my instinct--like that of a faithful dog seeking shelter--led me to
the lodgings of Mr. Betterton in Tothill Street, the very house in which
his father had lived before him.
He had not yet returned from the Theatre, where he was at Rehearsal; but
his Servant knew me well and allowed me to go up into the parlour and to
lie down upon the sofa for a moment's rest.
It was then nearing seven, and I knew that Mr. Betterton would soon be
coming home. I now felt infinitely weary; numbness of body and brain
had followed the conflicting Emotions of the past hours, and I was only
conscious of an overwhelming desire to rest.
I closed my eyes. The place was warm and still; a veritable Haven of
Quietude. And it was the place where dwelt the Man for whose sake I had
just done so much. For awhile I watched the play of the firelight upon
the various articles of furniture in the room; but soon a pleasing
Torpor invaded my tired Brain, and I fell asleep.
3
The sound of Voices upon the landing outside, the opening and closing of
one door and then another, recalled me to myself. The familiar sound of
my Friend's footsteps gave me an infinity of Pleasure.
The next moment Mr. Betterton came into the room. He was preceded by
his Servant, who brought in a couple of Candles which he placed upon the
table. Apparently he had said nothing to his Master about my presence
here, for Mr. Betterton seemed vastly surprised when he saw me. I had
just jumped to my feet when I heard him entering the room, and I suppose
that I
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