[2] Walton's Lives.

CHAP. XIII.

O! holy men!

Ye are the sons of piety and peace; Ye never felt the sharp vindictive spur That goads the injured warrior; the hot tide That flushes crimson on the conscious cheek Of him who burns for glory; else indeed Ye much would pity me.

Mason.

Eustace kept his promise, and rejoined Monthault, at the time and place appointed, equipped for service. His friend commended his heroism. "And did you," said he, "obtain Constantia's permission?" "No," answered Eustace; "I felt unequal to such a trial. I only pressed her hand with greater tenderness, and more earnestly implored Heaven to take her into his especial care."

"You will both thank me for projecting this separation," replied the Major. "Seeing the world with your own eyes will improve you, brush off that home-bred air which makes you bashful, and enlarge your ideas and powers of conversation. I promise ourselves a spirited, agreeable campaign. Hopton's office in the council will confine him about the person of the Prince, who must be kept at some distance from the scene of action; and Goring is no rigid disciplinarian. The enemy is not in force in the west; Cromwell and Fairfax are both to play at King-hunting; so we shall have time to divert ourselves and do our duty too."

From Bristol, Eustace wrote to his uncle and Constantia, excusing his absence by the uncontrollable avidity he felt to engage in the cause of his injured Prince, to whose commands he promised a strict obedience, and vowed to be sedulously attentive to all his new duties. To Constantia he added that he hoped to return worthier of her, and to feel in future the glorious consciousness of having contributed to restore his virtuous persecuted Sovereign, and give peace to his afflicted country. There was so much loyalty, honour, love, and grat.i.tude in these letters, that they must have softened the Doctor's displeasure at his elopement, had they come to hand; but they were confided to the care of Monthault, and, either through forgetfulness or treachery, were never forwarded. It was therefore only from the vague testimony of an accidental pa.s.senger that the family knew Eustace had taken the road to Bristol; and, from his being in company with Major Monthault, they guessed his destination.

Constantia had now the twofold anguish of fearing for the safety and apologizing for the faults of her beloved. The latter task was by far the most painful. She could only urge that he had a bad adviser, and that it was his first offence. Every day she flattered herself that she should receive a letter, deprecating her father's anger, and a.s.suaging her own fears. The summer pa.s.sed away, and they heard nothing from Eustace. Had he forgot her, as well as the ties of duty and grat.i.tude?

It was impossible! letters might be lost, but her plighted Eustace must be good and faithful.

I have before remarked that Lord Hopton was the officer under whom Dr.

Beaumont would have wished his nephew to learn "the n.o.ble game of war;"

but there were circ.u.mstances in his present appointment which made it differ widely from that of the preceding year, when, with his compatriot, Sir Bevil Greenvil, he drew a cordon across the western peninsula, and preserved, in that happy spot, the laws, the virtues, and the honour of England. He was now, indeed, to be the ruling head; but his former a.s.sociates in arms lay cold in earth, and the persons to whom the execution of his plans was to be intrusted, were the avowed votaries of Bacchus and Comus. It was with gay voluptuaries, freethinkers, and revellers, that Eustace must converse; at a distance from those whose wisdom might govern his impetuosity, and whose steady principles would correct his backslidings. Contemplating the dangerous situation of a generous, but indiscreet stripling, Dr. Beaumont now wished him in the army which the King was leading northward, to collect the remains of Lord Newcastle's forces, as that route might have afforded him a chance of joining his father in Carlisle, which held out with unexampled firmness, enduring the most incredible privations, and repelling the most vigorous a.s.saults. The event of the fatal battle of Naseby, which palsied all the King's efforts to preserve the const.i.tution, and ended all the hopes of his friends, would have made Dr. Beaumont rejoice that Eustace did not swell the list of n.o.ble and ill.u.s.trious persons left on that b.l.o.o.d.y field, had not his sorrow for a "King and kingdom lost" been too acute and overwhelming to receive any diminution from private considerations. The infantry, cannon, ammunition, baggage, and all the resources of the King, were there wrested from his grasp by victorious rebels; and England virtually exchanged the government of the religious, conscientious descendant of her ancient Princes, for that of a low-born, cruel hypocrite, who ruled her with a rod of iron. The King indeed escaped from the battle with a small body of horse; but it was only to fly from place to place before his unwearied enemies, pursued into every corner of his kingdom, without knowing where to rest his head, allowed no pause, even to ruminate on his misfortunes, till at last, trusting that his own countrymen would not betray the Prince who flew, like a bird hunted by the hawk, to their bosoms, he appealed to the pretended loyalty of the Scotch Covenanters; and they sold him to those who thirsted for his blood.

Yet neither the desperate state of the kingdom, nor the ruin of their own fortunes, long since embarked in the same vessel with his rights, could compose the feuds of the western generals, or induce them to attend to the directions of the Prince's council, or to the discipline and behaviour of their troops. The latter, from their intolerable insolence and rapine, became formidable only to their friends; and the approach of Fairfax was hailed, even in the best-disposed districts, as a signal of deliverance from the galling yoke of military extortion.

Goring, the soldier's darling, who combined all the alluring qualities of a demi-G.o.d, was found to want the distinguishing marks of a Christian hero. Possessed neither of self-command, obedience, nor fort.i.tude, he was ever ready to dash at splendid actions, but was without resources in the day of peril. He was too vain of his wit and companionable talents to submit to the command of others, and too supine, dissipated, and rash, either to improve opportunities of action, or to defeat the views of the enemy. Such was the leader under whom Eustace hoped to serve his king, and learn the art of war. His friend, Monthault, was a transcript of all Lord Goring's faults, to which he added the most cool and determined treachery, under the garb of blunt simplicity and unguarded frankness.

It had been previously settled by the two friends, that their common wants should be supplied from the purse of Major Monthault, in case the Royal exchequer was inadequate to the supply of the army. That purse was either soon exhausted, or closed by the sinister designs of the owner.

"It is his own fault if a soldier wants," was his answer to the urgent requests of Eustace for a small supply. "We are now," returned the other, "quartered among friends, to whom we ought to be not only punctual but liberal, lest we indispose them to the service. You see the Royal funds are scarcely adequate to the maintenance of the Prince. You are aware that I must depend on you, as the circ.u.mstances under which I left Oxford prevent my asking my uncle to a.s.sist me." "Certainly you must not," answered Monthault; "and I say again, a word will always carve a dinner. This, I own, is called a well-affected district; but there are many corrupted parts in it. Your host, for instance--a vile republican, a Presbyterian round-head--I saw him pelt the bishops when they appeared at the bar of the Lords, and join in a clamorous pet.i.tion to behead Lord Strafford. Give him a hint of this, and make him bleed.

Tell him we will inform Sir Richard Greenvil of his behaviour; and talk of Launceston gaol."

Eustace had long thought that every man concerned in either of those proceedings deserved the gallows, and fancied he could perform the office of executioner. He therefore made less scruple to require a pecuniary commutation for those offences, but thought the proceeds should be carried to a public account. Monthault laughed at this suggestion, said that self-preservation was the soldier's motto, and begged he would only bring the sum total to him, and his receipt should be a full discharge.

Eustace met Monthault next morning with a blank aspect. The accused had not only protested his innocence, but offered to bring testimony that he was in Devonshire at the time. Alarmed, however, at the impending charge, and knowing that riches were in these cases construed into a proof of guilt, he offered half the sum demanded as a present, provided Monthault would be his friend and protect him from further contribution.

Monthault held out his hand carelessly, and only said, "Disburse."

Eustace protested that his principles would not permit him to take a commutation for offences from a person whom he believed innocent.

Monthault flew into a rage, asked Eustace if, in a battle, or when storming a town, he would stop to ask those he met, "Pray, Sir, are you in heart a rebel? Good Master, were you pressed into the service?"

before he hewed them down with his broad-sword? The very proposal of a bribe implied guilt. Eustace acknowledged there was weight in that remark; the offered sum was taken; Eustace carried it to his superior, and received the jackall's share.

Indignant at the wrong, the plundered Loyalist, for such indeed he was, appealed to the Prince's courts. The Lords Hopton, Capel, and the incorruptible Hyde, formed part of that body; and it will be antic.i.p.ated, that only a want of ability to redress the wrong, prevented immediate reparation. The power of Lord Goring protected his favourite, Monthault; but it was thought proper to reprove the youth, who had acted as his agent. Eustace was summoned before the council. Shame and self-reproach bowed his erect head, and cast a gloom over his ingenuous features. The President explained how greatly such actions endangered the fugitive King, whose life now depended on the fidelity of his subjects, as he flew from post to post, seeking to hide his proscribed head. Eustace burst into tears. "I need proceed no further," continued Lord Hopton, "tell me what urged you to this base action."--"Necessity,"

replied Eustace, with a look of deep contrition. "That is a bad plea,"

returned the n.o.bleman, "and urged with a bad grace, by those who refuse to admit it as an excuse for the crimes of rebels. In this instance too, I fear it is a false one. I know you are one of the party, who distinguish themselves by their midnight carousals in Major Monthault's quarters. The necessity which arises from dissipation, can never be urged to excuse peculation."

"Place me in the forlorn hope," said Eustace, "the first time you have any desperate service, and let me expiate my crime."

"So keen a sense of it," resumed Lord Hopton, "is its own punishment.

Your name is Eustace Evellin. I have heard of a youth so called.--At Oxford he was said to be one of uncommon hope, the son of a n.o.ble Loyalist, distinguished alike for honour and valour; the nephew of a learned divine, a confessor in the cause of monarchy and episcopacy. Are you that person?"--Eustace answered by a burst of agonized grief.--Lord Hopton took him aside, and slided a purse into his hands; "Use this frugally," said he; "'tis the mite of one, whom duty has stripped of superfluities, yet apply again to the same source, rather than give your own heart the pangs which I see it now endures."

"But I am disgraced," said Eustace, with a look which at once bespoke intolerable anxiety and ardent grat.i.tude. Lord Hopton answered, "I blush while I tell you that your fault is too general, to stigmatize those who commit it; but I mistake your character, if you find in its frequency an apology for repeating the crime."

Eustace retired; his dejected heart was warm with approbation of his excellent reprover; yet burning with impatience to obliterate all remembrance of his error, by some brave action which should prove that he was not unworthy the clemency and confidence which his appearance had excited. He told Monthault what had pa.s.sed. "The old Prig worded it bravely," said he, "but in one respect he is better than most of your precise moralists. Come turn out the pieces--share and share alike you know; and just now they are quite convenient, as there is not a single doit in my purse." Eustace hesitated, knowing that its contents had been left at the billiard-table, but at length complied, with a secret determination that the partnership should immediately terminate.

While his mind still ruminated on the blight which his budding laurels had received, it occurred to him that it would be possible to surprise an advanced post of Sir Thomas Fairfax's army, which lay at a small distance from the town of which Monthault was intrusted with the command. When Eustace suggested the plan to his friend, the latter encouraged the attempt. It had many recommendations to his treacherous heart. The design was so full of danger, that it was most likely to end in the destruction of the whole party, and next to the disgrace, the death of Eustace was what he secretly desired. Nor did he forget that incursions into the energy's quarters could not be made, without hazarding the safety of the town where he was posted, and which Lord Goring told him was of the utmost importance to preserve the line of defence that covered the Royal army. With the true spirit which actuated the western commanders in this disastrous campaign, Monthault cared little what detriment the King received, so he might ruin a rival. He however, took care to shift the responsibility from himself. "If you ask me whether it is feasible," said he to Eustace, "I confess, I think that nothing but great valour, joined to great good fortune, can accomplish the design. But if you pant for glory, you know the adage, 'success attends the brave.' The glory shall be all your own, for as the letter of my orders forbids all hazards, I must officially be ignorant of your undertaking; though, as a friend, I will allow the night-guard to consist of picked men, whom you may dispose of as you think proper."

To succeed in a desperate enterprise, required more experience and better intelligence than Eustace possessed.--Brave in vain, he only led his followers to death or captivity. He was rescued from sharing their fate by a trooper, who, seeing him fainting from loss of blood, lifted him on his own horse, and galloped with him to the head-quarters. The post where Major Monthault was stationed, being weakened by the loss of this detachment, fell into the enemy's hands.

Miscarriages were too frequent to excite long clamour; but the disobedience of a positive command was, in this instance, too marked to be pa.s.sed over in silence. Monthault, on being examined, denied having commanded the enterprize. Had he advised, or permitted it, was a question put by one of the council; it was over-ruled as inadmissible by Lord Goring; and Monthault made a specious appearance, by talking loudly of the gallantry and excellent intentions of his friend. Pale, wounded, and dejected, Eustace was unable to raise his eyes, fearing nothing so much as the calm severity of Lord Hopton's aspect. The hopes he had formed were blasted; his promised course of glory and success was turned to shame and misfortune; nay, worse, he had materially injured the Prince, whom he would have died to serve.--He stood almost senseless while he heard himself ordered under an arrest, and to be kept from duty for a fortnight. That time was indeed scarce sufficient to heal his wounds; but Eustace could not separate in his mind the restrictions imposed by kindness from the punishment of disobedience.

His extreme agitation moved the compa.s.sion of the centinel who was placed over him, and who was indeed the same brave trooper who had saved his life. "Courage, n.o.ble Captain," said he; "Their Honours, the Lords of Council, only lock you up to give you time to get well. When they asked me about the business, I told them you was as true a heart as ever lifted broad-sword, only a little too hot--that's all; and one of them, the old Lord, with white hair, that looked at you so, wished that true hearts were more common. Your wounds will be well by the time you are let out; and then we'll cut and slash the round-heads again. Shall we not do them a good one, as we say in Lancashire?"

The name of his native county threw the thoughts of Eustace into a train, no less painful than the wounded feelings of a soldier.--Its dear emigrants, what would they now think of him! Even Constantia would abjure him:--surely she would never hear of his being reproved as a peculator, and ordered under an arrest for insubordination.

"You are too brave a gentleman to mind a few slashes and thumps,"

continued the talkative centinel; "the surgeon says they will heal up, and you'll have a whole skin again presently; so it must be some other sorrow which casts you down so. And nothing cuts a man up like sorrow, as I have heard good Dr. Beaumont say."

The name roused Eustace to enquire how he knew the opinions of Dr.

Beaumont, and the eclairciss.e.m.e.nt proved the centinel to be Ralph Jobson, the same person who refused to take the covenant at Ribblesdale in the beginning of the civil war, and had ever since felt such a reverence for the Doctor, as to connect with his name every sentiment to which he affixed peculiar importance.--To have rescued his nephew from death or captivity, was a most gratifying event to Jobson's honest heart; and he readily offered to do Eustace any service, even so far as to pa.s.s through the enemy's quarters, and inform the Doctor of his misfortunes. "Not for the universe," replied Eustace, "in the present situation of affairs."--"True," answered Jobson, "we must not rob the King of one brave heart just now; and though I was only a poor carter, and am now a trooper and quarter-master's man, mine is as true a heart as that old Lord's with white hair, that I liked the look of. So by way of pa.s.sing the time, shall I tell you how I got away from the constables, sent by Squire Morgan to take me to Hull, and went to Nottingham and listed under the King; aye, and fought for him too, when Lord Lindsey was killed at Edgehill; and helped to bury Lord Falkland, and the young Earl of Sunderland at Newbury; and saw Lord Newcastle's lambs dye their fleeces in their own blood; aye, and was taken prisoner with the learned Mr. Chillingworth, who wrote against Popery at Arundel-castle, and tended him when he lay sick, and was catechised by Waller's chaplains for being a Papist. He could have talked them all dumb, only he was speechless; and so at last they killed him with their barbarous usage. Why, Captain, I have seen the King of England dining on a hard crust, under a hedge, like a gipsey-stroller. How could you have stood such sights? Why your heart would have broke, instead of being alive and merry to drub the round-heads, as I am."

Jobson's narrative was interrupted by a visit from Lord Hopton. "Once more, Captain Evellin," said he, "I come to reprove you. That I do so, is a proof of your repeated errors, and of my conviction that they proceed rather from inexperience, than a bad disposition." Eustace expressed his sincere grat.i.tude and deep contrition. "On the former subject," replied His Lordship, "since it relates to myself, I may command silence, and you must feel that your contrition cannot restore to us the brave fellows we lost last night, or regain the post with which Major Monthault was entrusted. But I wish to ask if you knew that positive orders were given, to act only on the defensive?"

Eustace was silent. The manner in which Monthault spoke of his orders, intimated that their letter and spirit were at variance, and how could he throw the shadow of blame on one who had so eloquently defended his behaviour before the council. "I see," resumed Lord Hopton, "there is a mystery in this business; and as the desperate state of our affairs leaves me no power to punish breach of orders, we must endeavour to correct the past. Lord Goring has fled to France; despairing, I presume, of his master's cause. We have now to try to extricate ourselves from the difficulties into which discord and insubordination have plunged us.

The Prince has this day required me to take the entire command of the army. 'I have not told His Highness, as hath of late been the fashion, that my honour would not permit me to accept it; but I have said that I knew I could not take it at this time, without resolving to lose my honour; yet since His Highness thinks fit, I am ready to obey him.' I can now therefore do you a real service, by taking you out of ill hands.

I will make you my military secretary, and keep you about my person. The past is forgot. As soon as you are able, come to my quarters; but remember, I require a positive estrangement from your past connexions."

The transport of Eustace, at such a proof of confidence, may be readily conceived, and he now felt a.s.sured that he should expunge all the stains on his reputation. But ill-fortune and misconduct still attended him, as indeed they did the army to which he was attached. The bands of discipline had been too long relaxed. The general of the infantry refused to obey Lord Hopton, and was committed to prison, to intimidate other mutineers; and though his rapine and extortion had excited universal odium, so low was the general feeling of justice, that his punishment caused yet greater discontent than his rapacity had done. The troops were as corrupted as their leaders; only a small body of horse and a few companies of volunteers, chiefly composed of gentlemen, could be depended upon, in an army drawn up in the extremity of the kingdom, to defend the last holds of Royalty, and protect the heir of the crown from sharing the fate of his father, who was at this time a prisoner in the Scotch army at Newcastle, and scarce treated with the decency of external respect.

Whatever intrepidity, activity, and foresight could perform, was done by Lord Hopton and his faithful coadjutors; but from the hour when he undertook the charge to that of the army's dispersion, "scarce a party of guard appeared with half their appointed numbers, or within two hours of the time they ought." On such enemies Fairfax rushed with the concentrated forces of triumphant rebellion; yet if treachery had not aided his progress, the veteran's bands were again so strongly posted, that the victors would not have reaped bloodless laurels. But Goring's brigade (to which Monthault still belonged), being stationed to guard a down in front of the army, drew off without staying for orders, or intrenched Loyalists, before they had the least previous notice. Defeat and dispersion were the consequence. All efforts to rally the flying troops were vain, the officers cried out that their men could not be brought to face the enemy, and Lord Hopton in vain endeavoured to avail himself of the chances that might result from delay, by proposing to send to the Prince for directions how he should act. "Treat, treat," was the universal cry of the soldiers. Scorning to yield to such base clamour, he indignantly bade them treat for themselves, and retiring with the faithful few who adhered to his fortunes, to Pendennis Castle, falsified his own prediction by losing every thing but his honour, and the last ebbing sands of a long life, wasted by toils and sorrows, that left him merely strength enough to attend the Prince, who had been committed to his trust, to a foreign country, where, exiled from his large possessions, the country and the friends he loved, he found a refuge from triumphant guilt and undeserved misfortune in the grave.

To return to Eustace. The desertion of the post at Bodmin bore such evident marks of treachery, that it could not be attributed to the general trepidation and disorder which possessed the army, and circ.u.mstances proved that a correspondence subsisted between Monthault and the Parliamentary general, which the farce of taking him prisoner and committing him to close custody, when the King's forces were generally permitted to disband and return to their houses, strongly confirmed. Lord Hopton recollected that his designs had been counteracted by Fairfax, in a manner which implied previous acquaintance with his purposes. A moment of extreme irritation and anguish, such as a general must feel when he finds all his resources cut off, is not favourable to candour or calm investigation. The connexion between Eustace and Monthault was not dissolved. Notwithstanding the injunctions of the General to hold no intercourse with his late a.s.sociate, Eustace had been seen in his company, and even detected in the act of writing him a letter. Monthault corresponded with Fairfax; his (Lord Hopton's) own secretary held a private correspondence with Monthault; thus the course of treachery seemed developed. Lord Hopton felt that he had been deceived by the ingenuous countenance of a handsome youth. He rejected his offer of accompanying him to Pendennis, and even demanded from him his sword. "Go," said he, "and when one is again given you, serve your employer with fidelity."

Eustace was thunder-struck, and rushed after his commander to enquire the cause of such severe treatment. "I forgave your extortion and licentiousness," said the General, with a stern austere look which pierced him to the soul; "I pardon the rashness which broke our line of defence, and weakened us by the loss of a brave detachment. After this I took you into a confidential situation, and you betrayed your General and your Prince.

"Never, never," was the exclamation of the tortured Eustace. "I own my other offences, but with my latest breath I deny being a traitor."

"Have you not held a secret and prohibited correspondence?--Guilt chains your tongue. I hoped better things from Eustace Evellin. Farewell, repent and reform." These words were spoken as Lord Hopton mounted his horse. Eustace threw himself on the ground, and in a frantic moment thought self-destruction allowable. Before principle had time to allay this agony of acute feeling, a sob, that seemed to issue from a breaking heart, made him raise his head to see if there were any as wretched as himself. A pale war-worn figure stood beside him, leaning on a carbine; his hat drawn over his eyes, and his body wrapped in a tattered roquelaure. Eustace would have felt ashamed at yielding to such expressions of poignant distress before any observer, had not the more painful consideration that this person had been a witness of his disgrace suppressed every other thought.

"Did you hear the General speak to me?" enquired Eustace in a perturbed accent. After a long pause the stranger answered, "I did."--Those words were uttered in a well-known voice; and at a moment of indelible shame and public ruin, Eustace saw the long-desired features of his father: that father, by whose side he hoped to have fought manfully, in defence of his King and in pursuit of glorious renown, was the witness of an accusation which even mercy could not pardon, and beheld him sinking under the consciousness of acknowledged offences. Dignified in misery, Colonel Evellin stood gazing at the youth on whose virtues his fondest hopes had reposed, now sunk far below even his own desperate fortunes.

Eustace held his hands before his face, not daring even to ask a blessing, nor presuming to enquire how they happened to meet at this awful crisis.

Colonel Evellin first broke silence. "You are Eustace Evellin, my only son, for whom I cherished the remnant of my unfortunate life.--Boy, I was plundered of wealth, t.i.tle, and reputation, by a perfidious friend.

I submitted to obscurity and poverty, for I was blessed with a faithful wife in your angel-mother. Thanks be to Heaven, she lives not to see this day!--I have fought and bled for my King. I have endured hardships which would paralyze your pampered niceness to hear described. For eleven months I fed on carrion, reposed on filth, deafened with the sound of battering cannon, the shouts of besieging rebels, and the groans of dying comrades. I have swam across rivers, warding the broken ice from my wounded body. I have, like a hunted wolf, dressed those wounds in mountain-fastnesses, shunning the abode of man, and eluding pursuers whose mercy I disdained to ask. I have seen my King a prisoner, without power to redress his wrongs; my country a prey to tyrants; all her hallowed inst.i.tutions overturned; but never till now, Eustace, was I completely wretched; for never did anguish, in its most desperate forebodings, whisper that I could be the parent of a traitor."

"Oh, my father!" replied Eustace; "kill me with your weapon rather than your words. By the unimpeached honour of my blessed mother, I am no traitor."

"Who spoke the accusation," returned the Colonel, "which I returned to hear, and to curse the hour of thy birth?--'Twas not the light reproach of petulant folly, anxious to shift the shame of defeat from its own misconduct.' The speaker was the wise, magnanimous Hopton."

"But even wisdom and magnanimity may mistake."