Is there a charm in wisdom? Is there power In blushing modesty's retiring air?

Looks patience lovely in affliction's hour?

Is not humility a priceless flower?

And filial piety divinely fair?

And bloom such graces in this narrow dell, Bosom'd in hills, from civil discord far; Then, courts and camps, glory and wealth farewell!

All-powerful love hath broke ambition's spell, And freed a captive from his iron car.

Ruminating on these lines, and recollecting the mild dutiful behaviour of Constantia, she could not help supposing that melancholy beauty to be the object of her son's attachment. She had sufficiently interested her to inquire the reason of her mournful appearance, and learned that she had lost her lover in the civil wars. Could that lover have been her son? Could the figures she had seen sitting among the ruins, and which she was persuaded were not human, be sent as supernatural omens to indicate Sedley's death. It was happy for her unsettling reason, that at the moment when this terrific thought shot across her brain, she recollected, whatever her early misdemeanors might have been, she was now in a safe state, and had wiped off all offences to her brother, even supposing any had been committed. Yet she grew uneasy to hear of her son, and wished she had been more particular in her inquiries as to the certainty of his being in Ireland. I have already stated that maternal affection had no part in her character. The manner in which she treated Arthur prevented frequent intercourse. Hearing that a Colonel Sedley was distinguished by his cruelty to the Catholics at the taking of Fredagh and Drogheda, she had trusted that it was her son now become warm in the good cause to which she had devoted him. The date of this poem shewed that he was in Lancashire, indulging very different sentiments at the time of those b.l.o.o.d.y victories, and it was her perplexity on this point which made her give Morgan an affable reception.

She soon discovered, that though he had lately forborn persecuting the Beaumonts, he retained the most inveterate enmity to the whole family.

She drew from him all the information it was in his power to give respecting her son's residence at Ribblesdale; the a.s.sistance he received from the Beaumonts when at the point of death, and his sudden disappearance. Morgan was unacquainted with his change of sentiments and attachment to Isabel, who, having been long secreted with her father, was believed to be dead, and had been too insignificant and humble to draw the attention of so important a personage as Morgan. His communications confirmed Lady Bellingham in the belief that she had seen an apparition of her brother, indicative of her son's death, and that Constantia, who mourned a widowed love, had been the object of his ill-placed affections.

Full of apprehension, dest.i.tute alike of delicacy, grat.i.tude, and candour, and disposed, from her political feelings, to ascribe every bad pa.s.sion and action to the royalists, a thought struck her that poverty might have tempted the old delinquent to murder her son; and the suspicion grew to certainty, when the most minute inquiries could give no information of him subsequent to his receiving a large remittance from his tenants the week before he was last seen at Ribblesdale. Her humble attendants, on hearing her opinion, protested that nothing was ever more probable. The chaplain expatiated on the vices of the episcopal clergy, and cited the words of that-then-popular writer, Martin Mar-prelate, to prove them guilty of the greatest offences, not excepting even theft and murder. The gentleman-usher found d.a.m.ning proofs of extreme poverty in all the arrangements of the Beaumonts, and the waiting-gentlewoman could no otherwise account for the deep melancholy of Constantia, than by supposing her lover had been murdered by her father, whose pale care-worn features bore, in her opinion, the character of an a.s.sa.s.sin.

Having wrought her mind to this conclusion, Lady Bellingham sent again for her confidant Morgan, who, beside his aversion to one whom he had long felt to be a troublesome neighbour, had now particular reasons for appearing zealously inclined to serve the Protector and his friends. He advised Lady Bellingham to state the loss of her son to His Highness, and procure his order for the Doctor's arrest, adding, that even if innocent of this accusation, the imprisonment of one, who as an irreclaimable royalist, deserved punishment, was no breach of justice.

He a.s.sured Her Ladyship, that her son's long residence in a disaffected family, had not occasioned the smallest change in his opinions, but that he showed his zeal for the good old cause, by informing him of all the proceedings and councils of the delinquents that came to his knowledge; and he feared, as he was missing a little time before Charles Stewart's attempt on Scotland, his having penetrated into that design precipitated their b.l.o.o.d.y purposes. His communications shaped the fluctuating purposes of Lady Bellingham into a most determinate and diabolical resolve, and she returned to London with the heart of an "Ate hot from h.e.l.l," and the aspect of a Niobe.

She now presented herself before the Protector and his council, as a distracted mother, ignorant of the fate of her only son, and praying for a minute investigation of the mysterious business. A request from the patroness of the fanatics imperatively demanded attention. Several of their leaders were her devoted friends, and the fine qualities of young Sedley had really attracted Cromwell's notice, who, though he was incapable of loving virtue and honour, ever wished to engage them in his service. It is but justice to the Usurper's administration to say, that, except when his government or personal security were concerned, he was an impartial and vigorous administrator of the criminal laws, never sparing rank, or shielding greatness. But though justice thus beamed on those who had not made themselves conspicuous by their principles, a known royalist could not expect her smiles, a warrant was therefore dispatched to apprehend Dr. Beaumont, and Morgan was charged with its execution.

About this time that unhappy family were reduced to the last stage of pecuniary distress. Their good friend Barton was still in confinement, persecuted with the most inveterate hatred by Lady Bellingham's party, and as his revenue was sequestered, no remittances could come from that quarter. At the death of Farmer Humphreys, the church-land he had occupied was taken from his widow, who was now fallen into decay, and unable to a.s.sist the necessitous pastor she so truly revered. The provision which the revolutionary government pretended to make to the ejected ministers, was at best irregularly supplied, and often totally withheld. The infirmities of Colonel Evellin engrossing the whole time of Isabel, no fund could be raised from her industry, and with prompt though perhaps imprudent loyalty Dr. Beaumont had sent the sum left by De Vallance to the King's a.s.sistance when he made the last unsuccessful effort to obtain his crown. Want, therefore, appeared before their eyes in all its horrors; the produce of their cow and their garden, added to the kind attentions of the villagers, were their sole support.

It was impossible to conceal their difficulties from Evellin, who now earnestly prayed that death would relieve his generous friend from the burden of his support. The firm and patient Isabel could no longer divert him from these sad exclamations. She could not modulate her voice to a song, nor attempt to engage his attention by reciting a tale of other times. She threw her eyes upon the ground in silence, as if wishing to measure out his grave, and one where she might sleep in peace beside him.

They were roused from the pa.s.sive depression of poverty by the awakening call of imminent danger to the person of him who, in all their former trials, had acted as their guardian angel to avert or mitigate calamity.

Morgan delivered, without any ceremony, to Dr. Beaumont an order to attend the council of state in London, as a prisoner. The Doctor declared himself ready to pay a quick obedience to the existing government in all lawful cases, but stated his extreme penury and the utter dest.i.tution of his family. The rigid frugality of their habits was known; and Morgan, now a.s.suming an inquisitorial air, demanded what became of the moiety of the fifth allowed to the expelled ministers, which he had last received. Dr. Beaumont was taken by surprize, and before he could parry the impertinence of the question, was charged by Morgan with sending pecuniary aid to Charles Stewart. This was now a crime against the state, for which many suffered. Dr. Beaumont asked if this was the business on which he was summoned to London, and Morgan, knowing that it was determined to take him by surprize respecting the charge of a.s.sa.s.sinating De Vallance, answered sternly, that for this and various other misdemeanors he must be examined before the council.

No heart that had not been steeled by malevolence against all the better feelings of humanity, could have resisted the cries and supplications of Constantia, intreating that she might accompany her father; but Morgan, recollecting that she in the pride of beauty had disdainfully rejected his offer of marriage, took a savage pleasure in witnessing her affliction. To see the sorrows of his darling child excite derision instead of pity and respect, consummated Dr. Beaumont's anguish. Taking Constantia aside, he gave her his parting blessing, with a fervour that recalled his own firmness, and imparted consolation to her. He reminded her how much her aunt, Evellin, and Isabel, must now depend upon her exertions. He doubted not but commiseration for his misfortunes would increase the benevolence of the villagers, and he intreated her to recollect, that as her lamentations were unavailing, fort.i.tude and patient endurance were the only means to subdue the malice of their enemies. He recurred to his favourite argument, that an oppressor is merely an instrument of chastis.e.m.e.nt in the hand of Almighty goodness, whose ultimate purposes are all mercy and wisdom. A tyrant's wrath cannot pa.s.s its prescribed bounds; no earthly power can take us out of the omnipotent hands of our Creator; nor will He ever fail those who firmly trust in His care, and sincerely obey His precepts. "Courage, my child," said he, as he kissed her pale cold cheek, "I have committed no crimes either against the state or any individual: I shall soon be allowed to return. This affliction is the trial of your faith, not the punishment of my guilt."

Dr. Beaumont did not venture to visit his concealed friend, but the lamentations of the villagers, who surrounded their departing pastor with tears and blessings, added to the distress of Isabel, soon informed Colonel Evellin that his revered protector was seized by the strong gripe of power. He insisted on accompanying him to London as a fellow-prisoner, protesting he was ready to defy Cromwell, accuse Bellingham, and die. Isabel had sufficient strength to prevent the immediate execution of this rash purpose. "O think," said she, "that by so doing, you will not only sacrifice yourself, but also my uncle. The very act of having concealed you is punishable with death. For the sake of our best and kindest friend, a little longer exercise that fort.i.tude and patience which have been my support through years of apprehension and calamity. Let not my long services within this narrow recess lose at last the desired reward of saving a parent, more dear and precious from his undeserved calamities."

"Shall I perish for want, immured in this gloomy tenement?" said Evellin, wildly. "When my friend is gone, who will provide a covering for this wretched body, or food to sustain it?--Have I not told thee, girl, that De Vallance basks in luxurious state at Bellingham-Castle; and I would sooner perish in a lazar-house than beg my bread of him?

Dost thou not know his blood-hounds yet surround these ruins, and that it is Beaumont only who has kept them from my war-worn trunk."

"Dearest father," resumed Isabel, "I can keep off the blood-hounds, and will daily lead you forth to enjoy the warm sun-beams. Fear not; but trust in that Providence who feeds the young ravens. How wonderful was its preservation of our King when hunted from forest to forest by his merciless foes! The wants of nature are few and small. See how your despair makes me weep. Oh, for the sake of my mother's memory, dry the tears of your orphan girl."

In this manner did Isabel try to console the man of many sorrows, but he had taken his resolution, and even when most composed, would not be diverted from his purpose of following Dr. Beaumont to London, that he might be ready to confront his enemies, or to share his fate. Mrs.

Mellicent was consulted on the subject, and she thought this determination should not be opposed. It had been already agreed upon, that Constantia should follow her father, and attend him in confinement; and it was now settled, that Isabel and Evellin should privately accompany her. Disguised as beggars, they were removed out of the village, and being joined by Williams and Constantia, proceeded towards London as fast as their dest.i.tute condition admitted.

They had left Waverly-Hall some weeks, when Dr. Lloyd and Jobson arrived to communicate tidings which they thought would change the house of mourning to the abode of happiness. But no sound or sight indicated that these lonely ruins now afforded shelter to man. No trace of inhabitants was visible.--No monarch of the feathered brood was heard aloud to crow; no smoke rising from the chimney announced the preparation of the homely, but social meal. Jobson entered at the unresisting door; the furniture, like the family, had disappeared. He ventured into the secret chamber, that too was vacant; nothing remained but the couch on which the n.o.ble veteran had stretched his palsied frame, and, magnanimously enduring his own anguish, descanted on the arduous duties of a soldier.

"Ah, worthy Doctor," said the dismayed Jobson, "those confounded Roundheads have caught him at last. Here are some of the tatters of his poor old roque-laure, and the woollen cap Mrs. Isabel used to draw over his head so carefully. Here she used to kneel by his side, say her prayers, and sometimes sing in such a sweet low voice; and then the Colonel would kiss her, and tell her she would kill herself with watching him. But when she crept through that little arch to go away, he would look at her as if his soul was parting from his body. And then she would come back again, and say she had not shaken hands with the honest trooper, (meaning me,) and would whisper me, to keep up his spirits; and so they would trifle away half the night."--"'Serjeant,' the Colonel used to say to me, bless his good heart! though I never was more than a corporal, 'that girl has the courage of a lion.' 'Aye, and as cunning as a fox too,' I used to answer. 'She is beautiful as an angel,' he went on; 'Did you ever see such eyes?'--'Never but my first sweetheart's, Sally Malkins,' said I. But then he turned gruff, and would say, 'Pshaw!' for he never could be pleased with any body praising Mrs.

Isabel, but himself and that make-believe good young Lord with a wicked father."

While Dr. Lloyd deliberated how to proceed, an aged woman appeared in sight, with a basket on her arm, seemingly employed in gathering herbs.

"St. George be my speed!" exclaimed Jobson; "Can that be Madam Mellicent? Ah, sure enough it is her sharp wrinkled face: I never thought she would bend her stiff joints, or walk in the dirt without her riding-hood." Dr. Lloyd offered to go and accost her. "Not for your life," replied Jobson; "she never would forgive me for letting you catch her thus out of sorts. Stop behind that b.u.t.tress, and I'll go and tell her there is some company coming, and when she has put on her pinners and facings, she will be very glad to see you."

Mrs. Mellicent's appearance was too indicative of profound dejection for Dr. Lloyd to believe she would require any introductory ceremonials. He ventured to salute her with an abrupt a.s.surance, that he was a warm friend of her family, intrusted with a welcome and important communication. Mrs. Mellicent fixed her eyes upon him with that look of inquisitorial diffidence which those who have long been familiarized with distress and injustice, bestow on the dawn of better days. "I can hardly suspect," said she, "that you are one of those who find amus.e.m.e.nt in sporting with the feelings of the unhappy. You see in me the forlorn relic of a respectable family, now supported by those who were fed at its gates in the days of my prosperity. Yet as far as I can, I try to be independent; and my knowledge in medicine allows me to alleviate the pains of those who shelter my grey hairs.--My brother, his daughter, and the sole surviving child of a beloved sister, now in Heaven, are at this moment exposed to the dreadful trial of Republican persecution. Poverty chains me to this spot, where I drew my first breath, and where, if those I love are sacrificed, I hope soon to close my eyes on sorrow."

"You have," said Dr. Lloyd, "omitted to name another strong tie which should bind you to life. You have a brave and gallant nephew, who loves and honours the maternal aunt, who checked his extravagancies and fostered his virtues."

"Eustace Evellin!" returned the good Lady, while her eyes filled with tears, "Did you know him, Sir?--The murderous insurgents cut him off at Pembroke in cold blood. That is their usual method; they only spare useless logs like myself--a withered blasted tree, stripped of all its branches, fit only to sustain the trophies of their accursed triumph.

How long, Lord, how long!" continued she, wringing her hands and looking up to Heaven.

Dr. Lloyd now cautiously informed her of the almost miraculous escape of Eustace, and the lively interest he took in his preservation. He added an account of the dangers of De Vallance, and a.s.sured her, that he had left them both in his cottage, as safe and happy as English Loyalists could be, while their country groaned under the yoke of Cromwell. The fort.i.tude, nay even the corporeal strength of Mrs. Mellicent, revived at the recital; her own necessities were forgotten, and she scarcely lamented that she had not now a house to welcome, or even the widow's barley-cake to bestow on, the kind protector of the generous youths whom she so fondly loved. Every regret was lost in the prospect of better times, in the future happiness of Constantia and Isabel, in the restoration of the Neville line, and the adoption of the amiable De Vallance into its unpolluted branch. Only one life appeared to stand in the way of their felicity:--Remove the stern Usurper, a penitent nation, weary of oppression, would joyfully welcome back its exiled Sovereign.

What might not the Beaumonts and the Nevilles hope from the justice of a Prince for whom they had bled and suffered! Such agreeable reveries as these supported Mrs. Mellicent's spirits during that long period of suspense, in which (for fiction must not antic.i.p.ate the slow progress of history) she expected their realization. And if hope invested the enlivening phantom of royal grat.i.tude in too gorgeous colours, may we not bless, rather than censure, the fortunate delusion? We are to consider, that the venerable spinster having pa.s.sed her days in privacy, was ignorant of the chicanery of courts, and disposed to believe, that honour, grat.i.tude, and sincerity, are the inseparable concomitants of ill.u.s.trious birth. She herself never forgot either her benefactors or her enemies; and she knew not how early Princes are taught to consider the sacrifice of life and fortune as positive debts due to them from their subjects. She was not aware how often expediency compels them to smile on a potent enemy, and to overlook an inefficient friend; how necessary it is for them to employ, as instruments, the able and enterprising, rather than the amiable; and in fine, how much more apt the great are to shower their favours on those whom they oblige by unexpected munificence, than to discharge the claims of justice; to seek praise for liberality, instead of being contented with the merit resulting from a mere performance of duty.

To return; the account which Mrs. Mellicent gave of the persecution raised by the Oliverian government, determined Dr. Lloyd to prevent either of his young friends from becoming its victim. They both recollected the anxiety of the late King to remove his heir beyond the power of his rebel subjects, as soon as he found it was impossible for himself to escape; and that he even considered the preservation of the Prince as a security for his own life. The event refuted that conclusion; but it was owing to this forecast that the prayers and hopes of Englishmen could still follow the princely fugitive. Whether he was shrouded in the oak at Boscobel-wood, or coldly frowned on by the courts of France and Spain, England saw, in the lineal heir of her monarchy, a pledge of the future restoration of her civil and ecclesiastical const.i.tution, and a guarantee to individuals against sequestrators and informers. The same judicious measures which had preserved the Royal sapling when the parent-tree was felled, should be resorted to for the safety of an ill.u.s.trious private family; and Dr. Lloyd agreed to hurry back to North Wales, and remove his precious charge to some more auspicious clime, before they heard of the imprisonment of Dr. Beaumont.

Virginia was objected to on account of its distance from the scene of action. The power of Cromwell, so resistless in the centre of his government, was somewhat relaxed in its more remote dependencies; and the island of Jersey was pointed out as a spot where Eustace and De Vallance ran less hazard of being recognized by Cromwell's officers.

Loyalty was at this time a bond of endearment which united apparent strangers; Mrs. Mellicent had an intimacy, in her early days, with a lady who was now wife to one of the most respectable merchants at St.

Helier. He was one who, though faithful to the King, had preserved such an ostensible moderation in his conduct as to avoid offending his enemies; consequently, he had it in his power to a.s.sist those braver spirits that had withstood the storm, and now required shelter. A friendly intimation of remembrance, and an offer of aid had been transmitted by this Lady to Mrs. Mellicent, and she advised Dr. Lloyd to fix his abode in that island, under the character of a medical gentleman, travelling with two pupils, who were to study physic at Leyden, but were required, by their infirm const.i.tutions, to establish their health in a salubrious climate, before they encountered the mora.s.ses and fogs of Holland.

Dr. Lloyd was not a friend by halves; he was willing to devote the remainder of his life and fortune to the service of these interesting and deserving young men. He wrote a brief account of the preservation of Eustace and the safety of De Vallance, and Jobson was sent with the welcome communication to London, to lighten the woes of their affectionate and unhappy friends. Dr. Lloyd returned to Wales with the utmost celerity. He avoided explaining the distressed state of the family, contenting himself with a.s.suring Eustace and De Vallance that Colonel Evellin was alive, and that Isabel and Constance were faithful to their vows. The plan of emigration to America must, he said, be abandoned, as it was impossible for the family to remove; but as the preservation of their lives, in some degree depended on the concealment of Eustace, it became necessary they should avoid the rigid scrutiny which Cromwell was now making after obnoxious Loyalists, by removing to a retreat where, though the royal banner was not permitted to fly, the inhabitants were allowed to remain in a sort of peaceable neutrality.

CHAP. XXIII.

When the sword is drawn, and the power of the strongest is to decide, you talk in vain of equity and moderation; those virtues always belong to the conquerors. Thus it has happened to the Cheruscans: they were formerly called just and upright; at present they are called fools and knaves. Victory has transferred every virtue to their masters; and oppression takes the name of wisdom.

Murphy's Tacitus.

It was not the practice of Cromwell to bring to a speedy trial those state-prisoners against whom he could produce no positive proof of the offence with which they were charged. Though the palaces of the degraded bishops and exiled n.o.bility were, during this reign of terror in England, converted into places of confinement, the prisons continued crowded with victims. Judges and juries were too slow and uncertain in their proceedings to be permitted to decide on the fate of those whom the Protector of the liberties of England had pre-ordained to death or captivity. High courts of justice were occasionally erected, and summary modes of trial resorted to, which the ancient laws of the realm reprobated or disavowed. By these the Tyrant freed himself from those more obnoxious enemies who had taken arms against his authority; but the objects of his suspicious fear, whose enmity he knew, and whose ability he dreaded, still remained in close confinement. The crime of some was having concealed Loyalists; many were shut up for sending remittances to the King abroad, or for having shown him some mark of respect and allegiance while he was in England. The presbyterians suffered for lamenting the fall of the Long-parliament, and inveighing against the present tyranny; the Fifth-Monarchy-men, for expecting the reign of King Jesus; the Levellers, for requiring Agrarian laws and the equalization of property. The conduct of Cromwell had disgusted the whole body of sectaries as well as the stanch Republicans. "Anabaptists, Independents, and Quakers conceived an implacable hatred against him; and, whilst they contrived how to raise a power to contend with him, they likewise entered into plots for his a.s.sa.s.sination." These plots, and the libellous writings by which they excited insurrection, continually agitated the mind of Cromwell; for as his new enemies were not restrained by those principles which prevented most of his old ones from resorting to indirect modes of warfare, cutting off one daring villain added nothing to his security, but rather stimulated that faction to vengeance. He had now humbled and disappointed all parties, and could no longer play one against another. No one was attached to him; even those who had gone equal lengths in guilt only clung to him as a pledge for their own security. Mercy and lenity had no effect on those with whom he now contended. Lilburn, who may be considered as an epitome of the fanatical opponents of Cromwell, "had wrought himself to a marvellous inclination and appet.i.te to suffer in the defence, or for the vindication of any oppressed truth." To men who courted persecution, who gloried in personal suffering, and to whom, connecting their cause with that of the Almighty, all measures seemed allowable which their humours suggested--the axe and the gallows displayed no terrors; and it was as impossible to oblige as it was to intimidate them. They despised temporal possessions, and braced their iron-nerves with misapplications of the texts and examples of Scripture, believing that, in performing the actions of banditti, they were proving themselves to be chosen captains of the host of the Lord.

As the labours of the itinerant preachers already described had converted thousands of the lower orders into ignorant and desperate, and, it might be added, insane, enthusiasts, a mind less indefatigable than Cromwell's would have been wholly engrossed in securing his person and government from their violence and hostile machinations; but his fear of his new enemies did not make him forget his hatred of his old ones. The fanatical conspirators and insurgents being more inimical to the general good sense of the nation, he often submitted them to the ordinary courts of justice, contenting himself (as in the case of Lilburn) with making acquittal issue in more rigorous imprisonment, when a jury had the presumption to decide in favour of a prisoner whom the Protector had resolved to punish. Desirous of conciliating the good opinion of well-informed people, he preserved the fountain of justice uncontaminated. The judges who presided in the several courts were in general an honour to their country; and many of them (especially the immortal Hale) accepted the office, in order to be better able to restrain oppression, "knowing that in every form of government justice must be administered between man and man, and offenders against the universal laws of society punished." By such judges, a Gerrard, a Hewet, a Hyde, and other ill.u.s.trious Loyalists, would not have been condemned.

Against such persons, therefore, Cromwell was compelled to rearrange his pantomimic High Court of Justice, that contemptible but b.l.o.o.d.y engine, by which he had destroyed the King and the n.o.bles, and to whose authority, as anomalous to the const.i.tution, his victims generally refused to submit, and were thus condemned without any public discussion.

Had Cromwell determined to try Dr. Beaumont for sending pecuniary a.s.sistance to the King (an offence which he had the means of proving), he would have immediately collected his creatures and erected one of these executive courts; but if the suspicion of a.s.sa.s.sinating an officer, who bore a parliamentary commission, could be supported by stronger proofs than the accusation of Lady Bellingham, and the probabilities suggested by Morgan, he need not fear permitting justice to mount her regular seat, and hold her balance in the public eye. No charge of cruelty or persecution could then be brought against him; and the public odium would be transferred to the episcopalians and Loyalists. He attended the first examination of the Doctor before the Council of State, on the ostensible accusation of a.s.sisting the King, and saw, in his behaviour, an enlightened opposer of tyranny, and a conscientious adherent to the old government. Such a man, he resolved, should either be cut off, or prevented from doing him any injury. The best policy, therefore, was to defer his trial, and to send down some active emissaries to Ribblesdale to examine minutely into his past conversation, and discover whether any ground of accusation existed against him. At least to ascertain that Sedley had really been cut off, and that Dr. Beaumont had no evidence to disprove his being concerned in the transaction.

Dr. Beaumont was therefore remanded into close confinement. His family had gathered round him, and were supported by the generous contributions of those Loyalists who had hitherto escaped persecution, but made a common cause with their suffering brethren, and liberally ministered to their distresses. Colonel Evellin was concealed in an obscure lodging near the Marshalsea, where Dr. Beaumont was imprisoned. Constantia and Isabel, with patient fort.i.tude, ministered to their respective fathers, while Williams carried on a confidential intercourse with the n.o.ble and worthy friends by whom they were supported. Some of these were in the confidence of Lord Falconberg, the accepted lover of one of Cromwell's daughters, and who was thought by many to have sought that alliance with the view of mediating for the persecuted victims to a cause which himself and his family had ever decidedly espoused.

Affairs were in this situation when Jobson arrived in London, and produced Dr. Lloyd's letter, which, confirmed by his own testimony, fully verified the existence of Eustace, the safety of De Vallance, and their welfare and comparative happiness. What a weight of anguish was removed from these amiable victims of tyranny by the intelligence!

Imprisonment, poverty, dependence, personal infirmity, were all supportable evils. But for a complete exemplification of the extreme limit of human misery, we must look to the oppressor, not to the oppressed; to Cromwell, galled by the armour worn under his robes of state to defend his person from the expected dagger of a murderer, and not to Dr. Beaumont, languishing for want of the common blessings which freedom bestows, or to Evellin, an aged cripple in the lonely confined chamber of poverty. Cromwell had no daughter who revered his virtues, and cheered his pensive contemplations with the a.s.surance that the righteous sufferer was under the peculiar protection of Heaven. Most of _his_ daughters were strongly attached to the royal cause. The wife of Fleetwood (his eldest) was a furious Republican; Desborough, his brother-in-law, was a Leveller; and his eldest son was incompetent to receive that weight of usurped greatness which he wished to bequeath him. Such was the domestic situation of the man at whose frown Europe trembled. Ever in dread of a.s.sa.s.sins and conspirators, vexed by family-broils, his nearest connexions hostile to his views, without solace from public care, or sympathy in private distress.

The preservation of his son seemed to bestow on Colonel Evellin a new existence. He was never weary of listening to the particulars of his escape. Again and again he required Jobson to repeat the a.s.surance, that he had actually held in his arms the living Eustace; the determined martyr to loyalty and truth; the brave, conspicuous, honourable soldier; his own dear son, not a traitor to his King or his love, but all that he could wish a true Neville to be, except in his misfortunes. It seemed a double resurrection to life, and to unclouded fame. And was it possible he might again see him at his feet craving his blessing? Should his hand rest upon his head, while, with a prophetic ardour, he predicted a race of worthies that should spring from him--future heroes, patriots, and faithful subjects, alike tenacious of their Sovereign's rights and of the claims of their countrymen. What were privations, infirmities, and restraints to a mind animated with these glorious hopes? He limped on his staff round his narrow room, lest his limbs should grow too contracted to visit every apartment in Bellingham-Castle. He partook of his frugal meal, and talked of the joyous regales he would provide for his tenantry. He was no longer the existing root of a tree that had been hewn down; one fatal shot had not smitten his Eustace, and doomed his Isabel to remain a vestal mourner over her brother's grave. De Vallance and Eustace were now cementing that bond of virtuous friendship which would distinguish them in happier times; and those times would soon return. The generous feelings of English n.o.bles would not long endure the national degradation. They had taught the Norman Conqueror to venerate their ancient rights. They had resisted every attempt of the princely house of Plantagenet to sink subjects into va.s.sals. The First Edward, great in council and in arms, found his people alike invincible in the field, whether they followed his banner under an Asian or a Northern sky, or opposed his violation of their chartered rights! Could a nation, which would only pay a const.i.tutional obedience to a Beauclerk or a Coeur de Lion, which served, not submitted to, the heroes of Cressy and of Agincourt, long writhe under the scorpion-lash of despotism wielded by a low Usurper, whose manners and sentiments were inimical to the general tone of the English character--a man pre-eminent in fraud and hypocrisy, and ignorant of the lively yearnings of humanity.

"My girl," Evellin would often say to Isabel, "the King must be re-instated on his throne, or England will fall from her rank among the nations. The standard of public morals must be reduced, the mode of thinking be changed, the very aspect of Englishmen undergo a revolution before the race of this upstart Despot can take root in this island. We have been accustomed to look up to our governors as great and good; at least they were surrounded by a blaze of ancestry and dignity of manners congenial to our feelings of the prescriptive claims of hereditary rights. We must be all mercenary soldiers, wild fanatics, pensioned informers, or feudal serfs toiling for daily bread, ere we can patiently endure this revolting system of jealousy and suspicion--this cold, selfish scheme of trick and expedient. Astonishment and terror may awhile paralyze the national spirit; the remembered miseries of civil war may render the phantom of peace so alluring as to induce many to call a deleterious intoxication felicity. But unless Cromwell can obliterate every record of what Englishmen were in past ages--unless he can make us forget the education, opinions, and hopes of our youth--the labours, sorrows, and wrongs of our riper years--his meanness and his crimes;--never--never can the British lion crouch at an Usurper's form, or the red-cross banner wave graceful over a traitor's head."

Colonel Evellin was roused from these agreeable reveries by a painful communication from Williams. The means of access which the royalists now had to Cromwell's councils enabled them to discover that the vigilance of Morgan had brought together so many charges against Dr. Beaumont, that there seeming no chance of his escaping condemnation, it was resolved to bring him to trial. Williams could not distinctly make out the crimes with which he was charged, except that he a.s.sisted the late and present King with money; that he used the Liturgy and Church ceremonies with such slight alterations as did not prevent their continuing to be that "form of words" and "will-worship" which were forbidden to saints; added to this, he prayed for Charles Stewart; and further, there were secret counsels and mysterious contrivances in the family. A private chamber had also been found, which, it was evident, had been used for the purpose of concealing malignants. The safety of the state required that these practices should be searched into, and that Dr. Beaumont should be tried for contumacy to the government.

This was all Williams could discover; but beside this open attack, there was a mine ready to be sprung for the Doctor's destruction. Lord Bellingham had now lain several years in confinement. His party was believed to be subdued, and his own reputation was so tarnished that he was become quite innoxious. Overtures were now made to him, that he should be restored to liberty, and to a part of his possessions; but it was hinted at the same time that it would show his acquiescence with the existing government if he would take an active part against an atrocious royalist. The sudden and mysterious disappearance of his son (of whom he had heard no tidings since the battle of Preston) was mentioned; and it was soon understood that it was expected he should bring the charge of a.s.sa.s.sination against Dr. Beaumont, and thus remove all odium from Cromwell. Solitude and confinement had wrought no salutary change on this wretched man's disposition. His prison-hours were occupied by regrets for the past, distaste at the present, and fears for the future.

His affections clung fondly to the wealth and t.i.tle he had lost; nor could his guilty soul disrobe itself "of those lendings" which vitiated its spiritual essence. If he were again placed in Bellingham-Castle he would repent. He would then devote a large proportion of his dearly-purchased estate to charitable purposes; he would seek for Allan Neville and his daughter; were they alive, he would make them happy, or at least place them in affluence; he would erect a monument to the gallant Eustace; he would employ his future life in pious duties; in fine, if restored to the enjoyment of the unrighteous Mammon, he would use it in securing an everlasting inheritance. No angel whispered, "Begin the mighty labour now;" no renovating change took place in his desires. The hour of contrition and repentance was deferred with procrastinating insincerity. Can we then wonder that the man who, in his youth, sacrificed honour and friendship to purchase worldly grandeur, should, in his age, again imp.a.w.n his conscience for liberty and ease? or that, though he had indeed often deplored the supposed necessity of murdering Eustace Evellin, he should basely yield to become a Tyrant's instrument to cut off that Eustace's uncle on a charge, which, from what he knew of the Doctor's conduct, bore improbability and ingrat.i.tude in its aspect. Let those who condemn Lord Bellingham beware how they yield to the first temptations of guilt. The emulation of an aspiring mind, unchecked by principle, degenerated into envy, hatred, malice, injustice, falsehood, and cruelty. Love for a beautiful woman was polluted by an insatiable craving to rise to the same sphere of life in which she moved; and as it was her exterior loveliness, not her inward graces, that inflamed his desires, he scrupled not to become the instrument of her bad pa.s.sion; that "love might revel on the couch of state," he performed actions which stamped ignominy on his name, and destroyed his peace for ever; and now, in the decline of life, though satiety had taught him the little value of all temporal enjoyments, his imagination clung to the dispersing shadows which even experience would not convince him were only phantoms of happiness. Even while he wept the offences he had committed, he yielded to the first temptation to repeat his crimes.

On the morning fixed for his trial, Dr. Beaumont exhibited an ill.u.s.tration of the scriptural precept, by combining the wisdom of the serpent with the innocence of the dove. Serene, mild, thoughtful, acute, and penetrating, he was capable of using every fair occasion to elude his enemies, and was able also to submit to the will of Heaven, provided their malice should be permitted to triumph. He prepared Constantia for the worst, by a.s.suring her that so many had unjustly suffered in these perturbed times that condemnation was no longer considered as an evidence of guilt. All the disgrace of a public death was removed by the justice of the cause to which he was ready to fall a martyr; and the mere circ.u.mstance of his dying as a malefactor ought not to distress her, since, in the article of pain, he should endure much less; and the awakening trial of imprisonment had afforded him leisure to re-consider his ways, and make his peace with G.o.d. This singular blessing had supplied the best uses of sickness, without its frequent attendant, bodily incapacity. He reminded her of his declining years. "My enemies,"

said he, "can only rob me of the dregs of life. Death hath sent many of his forerunners by the hand of time to inform me that my days are drawing to a close. It was my wish to be useful as long as I lived. The new government have done me the honour to think me dangerous. When they immured me in a prison, I considered the loss of liberty as a quietus from my heavenly King, dismissing me from active employments; and I have since endeavoured to improve myself in the practice of those pa.s.sive virtues which are never enough prized by the world, and which are often painful rather than pleasant. I have endeavoured after the perfection of patience, humility, and submission; but, my Constantia, I have only endeavoured, and have discovered so many unsubdued weaknesses, such a lingering fondness for what I must renounce, that I fear nothing but the cold chill of death will benumb those ardent affections which have often led me to lament (but, I trust, not to repine) that I was born in these unhappy times. To the last I must bemoan the degradation, and crimes of my country, that beloved England, whom, in the humble sphere of a village-rector, I laboured to serve, by making all whom my counsels and example could influence, faithful servants of their G.o.d and their King.

I feel too the dest.i.tution of my family (here he faultered and turned aside his face)--princ.i.p.ally thee, poor mourner, tenderly fostered in thine infancy, and, since then, the child of sorrow. Encourage me by thy firmness, now I am on the eve of the most awful occurence of my life.

Imitate the cheerful magnanimity of Isabel. Let me not shudder at the thought of leaving thee a weak, heart-broken burden on those who can only pity thy distress; but let me have the comfort of hoping that thou wilt behave like a resigned Christian, who, art not so depressed by a sense of thy own grief, as to be incapable of ministering to the woes of others. Allow me to think of thee as one whose views are not bounded by the grave, and then I shall have no overwhelming terrors to distract my attention, or unfit me for improving every fair opportunity for my deliverance. But, should the worst happen, remember, Constantia, I shall continue to exist. Putting on the garment of immortality does not destroy ident.i.ty. We shall still continue members of that large family of whom G.o.d is the head, the angels being his more exalted servants, and the infernal spirits potent rebels, who in vain labour to defeat his purposes. No event can remove us from the superintendance of Providence; no distance of time or country, no difference of station or fortune, can hinder the glorified spirits of the faithful from meeting in the same paradise, and hearing the same joyful sentence of eternal beat.i.tude.