The Loyalists Part 4

Dr. Beaumont answered that since he was intrusted with a delegation of the King's authority, he should, as long as he ostensibly preserved his allegiance, look at the magistrate instead of the man; but as to receiving any favour from him, he was perfectly easy on that score, being sure he did not mean to shew him any. "I owe it to my own character, and to my child's interest," continued he, "to apply for redress, but I look upon this as the first of many misfortunes which, these convulsed times will bring upon me. When the head suffers grievously, the members must be indisposed. I should blush to be exempt from the misfortunes which weigh down my King."

A few days restored the Beaumont family to tranquillity; devotional exercises, and the resources of an enlarged mind, preserved the Doctor from sinking into depression. Constantia, ashamed of her want of fort.i.tude, strained every nerve to imitate her father, though in her efforts to amuse him, the involuntary tears which her weakness could not restrain, excited in his breast more painful feelings than the malice of his enemies had power to occasion. Mrs. Mellicent was fully occupied by the villagers, many of whom were hurt at the riot, but as they happened to be (according to their own report) all belonging to the harmless cla.s.s of lookers-on, her cordial waters, lotions, and plaisters, were in a constant state of requisition; this, added to the indispensable duty of scolding them for not keeping in their own houses when such mischief was afloat, kept her tongue and hands in continual action.

One night, as the Doctor was dismissing his household after family-prayers, with his usual exhortation, "to faint not, neither be weary in well-doing;" the trampling of horses was heard at the gate, and four strangers craved his hospitality. A gentleman m.u.f.fled in a riding-coat, whose voice and figure recalled indistinct recollections, introduced a tall ingenuous-looking youth, a blooming girl, and a person habited as a servant. "We are of the King's party," said the graceful stranger; "and need no other recommendation to Dr. Beaumont for a night's lodging. Besides myself, a broken gentleman, here are a poor boy and girl, benumbed with fatigue, and an old-fas.h.i.+oned servant, who will not leave a ruined master." At hearing these words, Mrs. Mellicent rushed to the door, to a.s.sure them that the beds were well-aired.

Constantia flew to a.s.sist in serving up supper; the Doctor lifted the young people from their horses, and all were in a few minutes a.s.sembled in his parlor.

"Allow me, Sir, to help off your coat," said Mrs. Mellicent; "and my dear young lady, draw nearer the fire.--Your face reminds me of some whom I well knew. When the King kept court at Oxford, I spent a winter there; could I have known your mother?"--"You knew her well," said the agonized stranger. "Dear Eusebius, have you forgot me?" "No, Evellin,"

replied Dr. Beaumont, folding the man of sorrows to his bosom, "Where is our Isabel?"--"In Heaven!" replied he, "and has left these treasures to the keeping of a crazed wanderer, who has no other portion than his sword, no relic of his former self but his honour."

Tears and embraces followed; even Mrs. Mellicent wept as she alternately clasped Eustace and Isabel to her heart. Her first care was to distinguish who they were like; and in their blended resemblance to both parents, she explained the confused ideas of recollection which her niece had excited at her first appearance. She then went out to see that due care was taken of Williams; nor were the horses forgotten, for they belonged to a gentleman and a Loyalist, and had conveyed to her arms the precious offspring of her beatified sister.

Eustace, Isabel, and Constantia, scarce needed the bond of kindred to ensure affection. Their ages, habits, manners, and principles, so well accorded, that their liking was instantaneous. The only difference was, that the young Evellins, "bred on the mountain's rough side," inured to severer trials, and exercised in a daily course of rigid duty, displayed an energy and self-dependence which agreeably contrasted the polished sweetness and feminine sensibility of Constantia Beaumont. Isabel was an admirable herbalist, and expert in supplying all the wants of a secluded family; robust with health and exercise, yet neither coa.r.s.e in her person, vulgar in her manners, nor sordid in her mind. Constantia was mistress of every elegant accomplishment; she painted, sung, touched the lute with exquisite sweetness; melted at every tale of woe; loved all the world except her father's enemies, and was willing, as far as her slender frame permitted, to perform the lowest offices that would promote the welfare of others. Eustace was a year older than the girls, and just on the verge of fifteen, tall, and manly in mind and person, panting for enterprize, full of hope that he was able to correct the disorders of the times, and sure that his name would be recorded in the annals of his country, as one who loved his church and his King, and hated the Roundheads and Fanatics. He soon drew the attention of his hearers by wis.h.i.+ng he had been at Ribblesdale on the night of the riot, vowing he would have beat the whole party, and tossed Davies into the flames.

Constantia smiled for a moment, and then shuddered at the idea of the suggested torture. "I make no doubt he would," said Isabel, "and then have rushed in himself to pull the villain out again."

"But my dear Eustace," inquired Constantia, "what are you to be?"

"A soldier to be sure," replied the boy. "Have you not heard that the King has set up his standard at Nottingham. My father has parted with our farm, and raised a levy of troops among the mountaineers, and he is going to follow them to the King, with all the money he has left, except a little which he leaves for Isabel."

"I tell you, brother," returned the sister, "we will dispute that point no longer. The King is to have every s.h.i.+lling; for I know how to support myself by my own labour."

"She shall never do that while we have a house--Shall she, aunt Mellicent?" said Constantia.

"No," returned the good lady; "honest people are now scarce, so we must take care of each other. But, Eustace, does your father approve of your turning soldier while you are such a child?"

"No, dear aunt, and that is the only trouble I ever knew, except the death of our blessed mother. I don't know his reasons, but he wants to place me in safety; I hate safety, it sounds so womanish. As we came along I met several fellows less than myself, who said they were ensigns. I know I could make an ensign; I could wrap the colours round my body, and die with the staff in my hand."

Constantia burst into tears, and declared Eustace talked so shockingly she could not bear it.

"My pretty love," said he, "I did not mean to frighten you. No, I intend, instead of being killed myself, to tear down the rebel standards, and send them to you. What would you do with them?"

Constantine paused a moment--"Would they," said she, "make a tent for my dear father to sit and read in? It goes to my heart to see him out of doors this stormy weather, wandering about and looking at his burnt library."

"Could I not put it a little in repair while I stay?" inquired Eustace.

"I am a very good mason, and a tolerable carpenter. I built a shed last year for the old poney. Isabel, you can glaze the windows, and white-wash. I think, between us, we might put it into comfortable order."

Mrs. Mellicent, a little shocked at her niece's avowing her expertness in these handicraft employments, apprehended that her lamented sister had neglected her daughter's education through her solicitous attention to more important duties. She began therefore to question her about her accomplishments--"Can you work tent-st.i.tch neat, my love?" was her first inquiry. "No!"--"Bless me, had you leather hangings to your best apartments?" Isabel was ignorant what hangings meant. Mrs. Mellicent proceeded to examine her skill in confectionery, and found with astonishment it was a science of which she did not know the name. "Can you paint chimney-boards, or cut paper, or work samplers?" "Dear aunt,"

said Isabel, "I am a brown bird of the mountains, as my mother called me. She taught me to sing, because she said it made work go on more merrily, but the longest day was short enough for what I had to do; I was laundress, and sempstress, and cook, and gardener; and if Cicely went to look for the sheep, I had to milk and bake, and at night I mended my father's fis.h.i.+ng-nets, while I was learning Latin with Eustace. Yet I got through all very well, till my mother fell sick, and then I nursed and dressed her, as she lay helpless on the pallet. But if I live with you, I will learn all your employments, for I am never happy when I am idle, and my only wish is to be useful."

"There is sterling worth in this rustic hoyden," thought Mrs. Mellicent, who, in contriving some occupation for so active a mind, recollected that Mrs. Beaumont's dressing-plate had not been cleaned lately, and undertook to make Isabel expert in furbis.h.i.+ng the delicate filigree. She called on Constantia to give up the key, it being considered as her property, who blushed, hesitated, begged not to be questioned on the subject, and at last owned it was gone.

"Gone! to whom?" "Dear aunt," returned Constantia, stealing a look at the approving eye of Eustace, "I sent it to the King at York, as the only contribution in my power. You must not be angry. My father and you set the example, by parting with all the money and valuables you could collect, and I thought it a bad excuse that, because I was under age, I might not send my mite to a.s.sist him, so I packed it up with my mother's jewels, and I am happy to say they got safe to His Majesty."

Mrs. Mellicent tried to frown. "Foolish girl," said she, "you should have kept the essence-box at least, as an heirloom. It was a present from Henry the Seventh's Queen to your great grandmother's aunt, who was her maid of honour. There was the union of the two roses wrought upon it; the King, standing with a red rose in his hand, and the Queen with a white, and a Bishop between them, and a large dove at the top, with an olive-branch in his mouth, so beautiful that it fell in festoons all down the side. Well, I am thankful that I took off the pattern in chain-st.i.tch. It will shew what good blood you spring from when people come to be again valued for their families." Mrs. Mellicent retired to her chamber, secretly pleased with the dispositions of her young charge, and inclined to believe that a parcel of beggarly republicans could not long domineer over such generous and aspiring minds.

CHAP. VII.

O War, thou son of h.e.l.l, Throw, in the frozen bosoms of our part, Hot coals of vengeance, let no soldier fly; He that is truly dedicate to war Hath no self-love.

Shakspeare.

The impatience of Evellin to join his royal master frustrated the hospitable wish of Dr. Beaumont to detain his brother-in-law at Ribblesdale. A few weeks were all he would grant, and even this time was not unemployed, for Williams was sent forward to present the levy and supply of money to the King, to inquire where he would command his services, and to procure arms and accoutrements.

During this interval, the Doctor found, with unspeakable pleasure, that the intellectual disorder of Evellin, which had been caused by too keen a sense of his wrongs, was composed rather than heightened by the severe loss he had lately sustained. The death of that faithful partner, who had sacrificed her life in labouring for his benefit, impressed on him the conviction that he must either exert himself, or perish. The tender age of his children peremptorily required his a.s.sistance, and to a mind formed like his, a still more awakening consideration presented itself in the dangers and difficulties of his King. Was it worthy of the true Earl of Bellingham to wander among wilds and fastnesses, weeping for a dead wife, or raving at a false friend, when England's throne tottered under its legitimate Sovereign, and the lowest of the people, (like owls and satyrs in the capital of a.s.syria) fixed their habitations in the pleasant palaces where luxury late reigned! He felt that he had too long behaved like a woman, pining in secret when he ought to have acted; while his faithful consort, with masculine courage, opposed her tender frame to the tempest, and, at length, sunk beneath the added terrors of his imbecility. His weakness in lamenting an irremediable evil, was the fault to which he owed the loss of his invaluable Isabel. He would now shew how truly he deplored that loss, by changing moody reflection into vigorous action, and by becoming a protector and support to the family to which he had hitherto been a burden. To such a state of mind, the situation of the King supplied a powerful impetus, and Dr. Beaumont saw, with pleasure, that loyalty was likely to give full scope to those fine qualities, which had hitherto, like smothered fire, consumed the fabric in which they were engendered.

He, however, entreated Evellin not to compromise his own safety by acts of rashness, which could do his Prince no good, but to wait the return of Williams before he took the field. In raising a band of mountaineers, he had acted under the authority of the King's commission of array, against which Davies had preached, and Morgan had inveighed, not only with vehemence, but with falsehood. They had told the yeomen and peasants, that "some lords about the court said, twenty pounds a year was enough for any peasant to live upon, and, taking advantage of the commission being in Latin, they translated it into what English they pleased, persuading the freeholders, that at least two parts of their estates would be taken from them; and the poorer sort, that one day's labour in the week would be extorted as a tax to the King[1]." These calumnies were not peculiar to Ribblesdale, but unhappily were diffused over all the nation, in which a vast body of people were grown up, who, like Morgan, had acquired wealth, and were ambitious of equal consequence with the hereditary gentry and n.o.bility, by whom they found themselves despised for their ignorance and coa.r.s.e manners, and therefore endeavoured to supplant them. Such men were every-where fast friends to the Parliament, and by their freer intercourse with the common people, whose habits and ideas were originally their own, they misrepresented the King's designs, and counteracted the measures of those n.o.ble and brave patriots, who, notwithstanding their dislike of some former measures, felt it was their duty now to rally round the throne. "Nor can it be remembered without much horror, that this strange wild-fire among the people was not so much and so furiously kindled by the breath of the Parliament, as by that of their clergy, who both administered fuel and blowed the coals. These men having crept into and at last driven all learned and orthodox divines from the pulpits, had, from the commencement of this 'memorable Parliament,' under the notion of reformation and extirpation of popery, infused seditious inclinations into the hearts of men against the present government of the church with many libellous invectives against the state. But now they contained themselves in no bounds, and as freely and without controul inveighed against the person of the King, prophanely and blasphemously applying whatever had been spoken by G.o.d himself or the Prophets, against the most wicked and impious Kings, to incense and stir up the people against their most gracious Sovereign. Besides licensed divines, preaching and praying was at that time practiced by almost all men in the kingdom except scholars."

Thus as every parish had its Davies and its Morgan, the unhappy Charles, faultless as a man, and at worst only ill-advised as a Monarch, found himself, after much ineffectual submission, and many unconst.i.tutional abridgements of his lawful rights, required to surrender the scanty remains of his prerogative, and consent to be a state-engine, in the hands of his enemies. When, driven from his capital by riots, his fleet, army, militia, garrisons, magazines, revenues, nay, his palaces and personalities seized, by those who still called themselves his most dutiful subjects, and prefaced their requisitions, that he would virtually surrender as their prisoner with the t.i.tle of an humble pet.i.tion; when, after all these humiliations and privations, the King found it necessary to throw himself on the allegiance of his faithful subjects, and to appeal to arms by raising the royal standard, only a few hundred, out of the millions he governed, joined him. Discouraged by this apparent defection, some of his friends advised him to treat with the Parliament, or, in other words, to submit unconditionally. In abandoning his own personal rights, His Majesty had gone as far as his conscience would permit, and he chose rather to suffer banishment or death, than yield to abolish the church he had sworn to defend, as Parliament now required him to do, in the phrase of "casting out an idle, unsound, unprofitable, and scandalous ministry, and providing a sound, G.o.dly, profitable, and preaching ministry, in every congregation through the land." Yet he so far conceded as to make an offer of reconciliation, secretly convinced that the latent insolence with which it would be rejected, though couched in smooth language, would awaken the nation to a sense of duty. The event justified his expectation, and the King was enabled to make a glorious, but unsuccessful resistance, during which, though many excellent persons fell (himself among the number), the principles of reciprocal duty between King and subject were defined, and hypocrites, fanatics, and republicans, were completely unmasked.

It was during this lowering aspect of the political horizon, while the clouds, congregating from all quarters, menaced a tremendous storm, that Evellin sheltered his woe-worn head at Ribblesdale. The time was not lost; for the well-informed piety of the Doctor succeeded in completely tranquillizing Evellin's mind, who, admitting him to unbounded confidence, told him all his early sorrows, the enmity of Buckingham, the falsehood of De Vallance, and the loss of his estate, t.i.tle, and high connection. When in the sequel of his narrative, he stated that his perfidious friend was at this time Earl of Bellingham, the blood recoiled from Dr. Beaumont's heart, and he almost fainted with horror.

"Do I understand you," said he; "was De Vallance thus exalted by the King? Was his wife the Queen's confidante, the dispenser of her favours and the adviser of her conduct?" He then shewed Evellin the British Mercury, which stated, that this same Bellingham had accepted a commission under the Parliament; that the treacherous favourite of the unfortunate Henrietta Maria had charged her mistress with the design of introducing popery and arbitrary power, as well as of secretly fomenting the Irish rebellion, and that she had involved in her slanders the merciful and truly religious King.

"This infinitely transcends all," exclaimed Evellin, "and drives from my remembrance the recollection of my private wrongs. I consider the infernal pair not merely as my enemies, but as the common foes of man; I regard them as a tiger and hyaena, whom I ought to hunt down and destroy.

They are not depraved human beings, tempted by ambition to sin greatly; but demons, who know no moral feelings either of honour, pity, attachment, or grat.i.tude."

"Restrain your warmth," said Dr. Beaumont; "this is only the natural progress of inordinate desires unchecked by principle, and gorged, not satiated, by indulgence. She who would betray a brother would never adhere to a fallen benefactress. He who would ruin a confiding friend, would desert his King in adversity. A coronet, a large estate, a magnificent castle, and splendid retinue, were the baubles for which these offenders forfeited their immortal souls. The compact once made, cannot (they think) be broken. Habit here becomes fixed as the Ethiop's die or the leopard's spots; and greater crimes must secure what lesser offences purchased."

The friends now consulted on their future measures. Evellin was for concealing his real self from the King, but Dr. Beaumont advised that though he should retain his borrowed name, as a personal security in case he should fall into the enemy's hands, the King should know him for the injured Allan Neville. "It will add to his distress," said Evellin, "to see a man whom he has wronged, and has now no power to redress." "It will console him," returned Beaumont, "to find one generous and loyal enough to forget injuries, when others renounce benefits. Affliction is sent by Providence, to teach us to recollect our ways. My loyalty does not make me forget that the King is equally subject to one great Master, nor am I so desirous to secure his temporal repose as to wish him to lose the advantages of adversity. Let him by seeing you be taught to distinguish between flatterers and friends. It will be happy for England if he regains his high station; it will do good to his own soul when he comes to give an account of his stewards.h.i.+p, at that tribunal before which the emperor and the slave must one day stand."

"Beaumont," said Evellin, grasping the Doctor's hand, "you are still that angel of truth who in my early life led my proud and rebellious thoughts to seek the consolation of religious humility; but in one circ.u.mstance you must give my weakness way. My gallant boy, ignorant of his n.o.ble birth, pants for military fame with all that generous ardour which during five centuries distinguished his ancestors. He is the last hope of an ill.u.s.trious house. Accuse me not of malice, or of folly, when I own that, (next to the restoration of my King,) I beg of heaven that he may be spared to tear the polluted ermine from the shoulders of this branded rebel, and to purify the coronet of Bellingham from the foul contamination it receives by binding a villain's brow. Toss this storm-beaten carcase into any trench where it may in future serve as a mound against traitors; but let my young nursling be planted where the tempest that unroots the cedars shall pa.s.s over without injuring his tender growth. You, Beaumont, are a man of peace, bound by your functions to that bloodless warfare which attacks opinions, not men.

Take him with you, wherever you go; keep him in your sight; cultivate in him every n.o.ble propensity, except his pa.s.sion for military renown. In all else he is the son of my desires; and were it not for my peculiar circ.u.mstances, he would be so in this also. Consider him as a young avenger destined by heaven to punish the guilty, and never let despair of the royal cause induce you to yield him to his own impetuosity. While a branch of the Stewart stock remains, fear not, though these cursed malcontents cut down the royal tree; the scion, watered by a nation's tears, shall still grow, and the soiled regalia of England again look splendid among contemporary kingdoms. At that period the descendants of your Isabel shall reclaim the honours to which my services, and perhaps my death, will ensure them a renewed patent."

The Doctor complied with Evellin's wishes, thinking the youth and extreme impetuosity of Eustace rendered him unfit to take arms for a cause which required coolness and experience, and which zeal, unrestrained by such adjuncts, was likely to injure. He promised to use every effort to direct the youth's studies and guide his judgment, to consider him as his son, and Isabel as his daughter. "She is a worthy singular girl," said Evellin, "but I have little fear for her; not that I love her less; but she is one of those safe useful beings whose active and benevolent character always secures friends, and whose self-controul and indifference to their own ease make them comfortable in every situation."

It was determined by the gentlemen that the young people should be kept in perfect ignorance of Evellin's rank, but since it seemed prudent to increase the number of living witnesses of his ident.i.ty, Mrs. Mellicent was admitted into their counsels. Though a woman, and an old maid, she belonged to that extraordinary cla.s.s of people who can keep a secret; and I must do her the justice to say, that she never directly or indirectly betrayed her trust. And whenever she reproved the girls for what she called rompish tricks, which, she insisted, were very unbecoming in young ladies, she constantly endeavoured to look at Constantia as expressively as she did at the 'brown bird of the mountains.'

All that now was wanting was the return of Williams, for which the impatience of Evellin increased every hour.--During this period of suspence, the family were surprised one morning by a visit from Sir William Waverly, who came to inquire after the Doctor's health, and to condole with him on the destruction of his library. He earnestly advised him to apply for indemnification, and offered his services at the ensuing a.s.sizes. Nothing could be more friendly than Sir Williams's manner, or more liberal than his promises; but it unluckily happened that Mrs. Melicent, than whom no judge was ever more attentive to facts and dates, as well as to collateral circ.u.mstances, discovered that the polite Baronet, ere he paid this visit, had just time to hear of the King's victory at Edgehill, which event she was severe enough to believe, brought to recollection the loss sustained by his worthy pastor three months before. She also thought that the improved aspect of the royal cause had occasioned a hamper of game and venison to arrive at the rectory, which the keeper confessed had once been directed to Squire Morgan. It must however be admitted, that Mrs. Mellicent had a decided contempt for all the family of Waverly, which made her scarcely just to their real deserts.

Dr. Beaumont answered the Baronet's expressions of condolence with the firmness of a man who shewed himself superior even to the loss of the most rational and innocent delights. He soon changed the conversation to public affairs, when Sir William, having first commended caution and moderation, observed, that it began to be time for a wise man to choose his party.

"An honest man must have chosen his long ago," said Eustace, darting his animated eyes from Caesar's Commentaries to the countenance of the Baronet. "Was that remark in your book?" inquired Dr. Beaumont, with a look of calm reproof. "No uncle," replied the spirited boy, "but I loved my King as soon as I knew I had one, and thought every body did the same."

"That is a fine youth," said Sir William, smiling; "may I crave his name." "My sister Isabel's son," replied the Doctor; "and Colonel Evellin's, I presume," added Sir William, "for it is now known that His Majesty has conferred on him that dangerous military t.i.tle."

Evellin coolly answered, that his life was his country's and his King's, and that those who highly valued safety never ought to buckle on a sword.

Sir William Waverly warmly reprobated a cold, selfish, time-serving character, declaring that, in the opinion of all his friends, his great fault consisted in absolutely disregarding himself, while he was sedulously attempting to benefit mankind. After a few flaming periods of egotism and flattery to a personage whom he held most dear, namely himself, he reverted to the possibility of duties being suspended in an equipoize so nice that a reflecting man could not know how to act between his King and his country.

Evellin answered, that he thought it easy to distinguish between the free voice of a well-informed people and the proceedings of an aspiring party, who, by misrepresentation, terror, and an appeal to the worst pa.s.sions, had gained an undue influence; a party who, supported by men detesting every species of restraint, and hoping every change will benefit their condition, pa.s.s themselves upon the world as the British nation. "As well," said he, "may we venture to call their language to the King loyalty, or their actions law and justice, as to misname the present House of Commons, the representatives of England; when every friend to His Majesty or the const.i.tution has been ejected, banished, or imprisoned, by votes pa.s.sed under the immediate influence of hired mobs of apprentices, prost.i.tutes, and the worst rabble London contains."

"Quite my opinion," resumed Sir William; "yet, Sir, though I excessively condemn and lament the unfortunate length to which Parliament has gone, I must say, that at the beginning there were faults on both sides. His Majesty was wrong, evidently wrong, and then Parliament went too far, and then the King promised and retracted, and then they applied to more coercive measures, till really it becomes doubtful who is most to blame."

"When," said Evellin, "you can find in the King's actions any violation of the const.i.tution as flagrant as either the legal a.s.sa.s.sination of Lord Strafford, in which all forms and usages of Parliament were violated; the accusation of Laud, that eminent defender of the Protestant faith, for Popery; the imprisonment of the bishops for claiming their ancient privileges; or, lastly, a dependent and elective body voting itself supreme and permanent, and in that state levying war upon the King, by whose writs they were first summoned and consolidated; when you can find, I say, in the arbitrary proceedings of the Star Chamber, or of the High Commission courts, actions as repugnant to our fundamental laws as these, I will then agree with you, Sir William Waverly, and admit that a wise and considerate man would doubt what party to choose, as not knowing which was most to blame."