Alice Bridge of Norwich — page 14: what you’re looking at

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avo ALLOH DHIVGH OF NORWICH, I fear. Look at this placard taken from the walls this morning: ‘Who rules the kingdom?—The King! Who rules the King?—The Duke! Who rules the Duke?—The Devil! Let the Duke look tu it, or he will be served as Lambe his Doctor was served! Let Charles and George do what they can, The Duke shall die like Dr. Lambe!’ My lord, be warned in time, and change this perilous policy for a patriot service, to which you often seem inclined,” The Duke seemed moved, and gave a hand to his visitor, saying, ‘‘ Beshrew me, but I think you are my best counselor. Alas! ‘Meliora probo deteriora sequor’ must be my epitaph, I fear.” As they were parting, the Duke said, “‘Count Arenberg, I trust the time may come for your talents and fidelity to be applied to public affairs, By the by, how do you stand with your friend Gabrielle?—the only star at Court, save cold Tremouille, who has never been eclipsed.” “Very flattering words,” said the Fleming. ‘*She is betrothed to the Duke de la Rochefou- cauld, who is soon coming for her.” “« Nonsense,—that’s her dragon mother’s de- sire. He is a roué, like many of us, and cannot pretend to such a paragon. Gabrielle hasa free heart with just a penchant for you; but she is rather skittish and uncertain for a wise man to trust. Your families were, I think, closely con- nected in Holland. You were dispossessed— was it not so?—in the Spanish persecution. Her French mother does not smile on the Dutch connection, I fancy.” “Your Grace is excellently informed, and I pretend to no more than simple friendship,” was the sad response. “Well, Van Diense, one good turn deserves another. You have warned me faithfully: I hope I can serve you. Iam in communication with the French and Spanish ambassadors; and I expect ere long, by the discovery of special papers in the Paris archives, you will be re- stored to your native rank and possessions,” ‘«My lord Duke, your unsolicited and pow- erful aid weighs me down with gratitude;—I never can forget it, whether I succeed or not. ‘Would that you would give some weight to my poor warnings, and reconsider your own line of policy, for the sake of England and her King.” ‘‘Tf I must say so to you—my old dad, Jamie, was more pliable than Charles” (here he sank his voice to a whisper), ‘‘ who would walk right over the deepest precipice only to prove that he will have his own way. He is incorrigible! Possibly I am doomed; but hell could hardly be worse than my position of late in this Court. Farewell.” In one of his most splendid salons the Duke gave that night a supper to the jeunesse dorée of that period Wits, dandies, men of fashion and of profligate habits, with the noted actresses and ladies not admissible to real society, made a mélange of joyous abandon, The jovial mirth, free license, and excellent wines and dishes, had prolonged the entertainment till the Duke, who seemed the least weary of the party, gave the signal of breaking up. He and Sir Charles Sediey—his fidus Achates—were lingering alone a few minutes, when his Grace yawned and said, ‘‘Sedley, every night I resolve to end my wretched life, but while considering the better mode of dispatch I fall asleep, and on waking the fit is over, and I] find something to revenge, oppose, or attain, which brings me through the day. But this night I really think I shall do it.” + “T'knew a man, George,” returned his friend, ‘‘ who was always thinking he was dy- ing, and in the night he frequently sent a serv- ant on horseback for the doctor, until one night this servant sulkily replied, ‘I wish you'd fix a time, sir, and keep it.’ ” ‘* Thanks, Charles, for your valuable advice; —I will take it,'and pin on my coat this note, ‘Sir Charles Sedley advised me to this.’” “Well, George, do as you will; but I do ad- vise you never to be at the trouble of laying hands on yourself when you have so many foes ready on slight occasion ‘to save you the disa- greeable task.” ‘* At all events, Iam half a mind, Charles, to turn Puritan, and spite this treacherous Court.” “Are they worse, Villiers, than the other party? Look before you leap.” “I have sure proof to-day, friend, that both King and Queen would give me up to France.” ‘“Probably,” said Sedley coldly,—‘‘if they dared, they would. You are master. What Boys’ school would not gladly flog or flay a tyrannical master, if they dared?” ‘But to go on aping the friend and simpering the courtier is hideous,” ‘Tis only the courtier’s lot, George. How many would change with you? You must play on your part boldly, Duke; you must keep your,mastery. If you falter, you are lost.” “Then, if I cannot save England from the tyrant and his insatiable Court, ‘T will steer the vessel full on the iron-bound coast, and we will all perish together-on the rocks of destiny.” “Very well,” laughed his friend, ‘‘ unless you are first tripped up-and cast over. I prefer to perish among the Syrens of the Straits. May your Grace enjoy blissful dreams, and postpone dying till the morrow!” So they waved their courteous farewells. On the basement floor of the same palace, many of the Duke’s household had been hold- ing their orgies in imitation of their betters, Three of these were remaining after the feast, for last words. They were the ruffling bravo already named; a military-looking friend of his, Captain Felton, a desperate-visaged man; and thirdly, our quondam acquaintance the valet Green, ‘*T hear,” said the last, addressing Felton, “that: you have a petition of grievance for our Duke. /1s it of pressing moment?” “Pressing indeed,” croaked the other, his voice trembiing with excitement, Ihave been horribly wronged, and unless I get justice I will right myself with my own hand.” “Hush!” said the bravo. ‘‘ Things not to speak, but todo. Curse them all!” ‘‘ But,” asked Green, ‘‘our Duke is no enemy of yours?—he has done you no wrong?” ‘* Not yet, perhaps,—not till he refuses me. Only let him!” “‘ Which he surely will do,” said the bravo. ‘‘ He is cursed impatient—he is like tokick you rather. He has done so to me, and to Green there.” “Pshaw!” whispered Green. ‘‘If I were his enemy, I could soon settle my score, France and Spain would reward the act well.” ‘‘Say you so?” cried the bravo. ‘I have done his dirty work, and eaten his bread, but I hate him. He has affronted my honor,—that I toe forgive. I could run this dagger to the hilt.’ ‘*Hush!” rejoined Felton; ‘‘this is brag. I want no reward. I care not to save my own life. I shall be avenged!” Green then clapped Felton on the shoulder, and said, ‘* Bravol—we two will find you an opportunity; but if his Grace be hasty, promise us to be patient.” . | “*Patientl—not I. Let him ask that above; let him look to the issue. me long.” “Ah!” answered crafty Green; ‘“ we are all heated just now. Farewell for to-night. Our master is a good master, though we grumble sometimes,” %! After Felton retired, the other two waited, and, looking-at each other, laughed very mean- ingly, when Green said, ‘‘ That fellow is primed and loaded.” ‘*No need for that,” said the other. ‘‘ Murder is written in hisface, and madness too. Well, I shall be rid of this cursed Duke’s bloody errand. ‘Tom,’ says he, ‘settle with so-and-so,’ and again with so-and-so; and he gives money for blood. He has the gentleman-coward’s part, and I the butcher’s, Perhaps he will feel the butchery in turn, Curse him! But, Green,— about that reward?” Green replied, ‘‘ I have no part in this matter. I will surely commend you for reward when the cowp is struck. Now I must be ready for my attendance—perhaps for blows and kicks; but the trap is set, and the victim ready.” As Green ascended the great stairs, he mut- tered, ‘* Not long shall I endure this intolerable insolence, Father Christopher offers largely from his foreign employers for the Duke’s end; therefore he helped me here, This Felton wants no wages: he will die, and reveal noth- ing. As for this bravo, he is an ass, and a small bundle of hay and thistle will content him, Yes, vile Villiers will soon lie lower than he has ever degraded his servants, Not long, my Prince of Bucks! disgrace of dukes! and dupe of devils!” CHAPTER XVII. THE FLEMING’S LOVE, “Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; For this the passion to excess was driven, That self might be annulled—her bondage prove The fetters of a dream, opposed to love,” WoRDSWORTH. Our Norwich travelers spent the next few days in calling on various friends, The Alder- man saw-his lordly brethren of London, and enjoyed a banquet at the Lord Mayor’s mansion, which was a house greatly overloaded with heavy architectural ornament. The Fleming had much business with the Dutch merchants then adventuring in India, as also in aiding to found the Massachusetts Bay Company, and opening the colonial traffic with America. “The friends went together to see the boys at school. Dr. Osbaldeston was yet more court- eous, and conversed freely on public matters, Referring to the boys, the Doctor praised them both, alluding specially to the frank courage of George. Edward he called highly honorable, but reserved, and disposed to side with the Court and High Church party, having a boyish fancy for the Queen and the new Popish fash- ions. When the boys appeared, the Principal left the party to perfect freedom. After embraces and minor. questions, the Alderman asked, ‘* What friends have you picked up here?” George named Richard Eliot and young Hampden, with a younger Vane, and added, ‘‘ We had an election at school, in which John Eliot (eldest son of Sir John) and the eldest Hollis stood against a son of Lord Weston and a nephew of Laud. We did work hard for votes.” ‘‘And which side beat?” asked the Flem- ing. % Ah!” cried Edward, breaking silence, ‘‘ we beat, though they called us Papists and Steenie’s dogs!—we beat!” ‘*But were you not on the same side?” said their father. ““No,” answered Edward sadly; ‘‘I went with my friend Wrer and Bishop Williams’s son, whom George calls Bishops’ spawn.” “ But, my dear boys, you should hold to- gether as you used to 9 at home.” “So we do, father,” replied George; ‘‘ only at an election one divides for fun. But I wish Edward did not like that mischievous fellow, Stephen Wren.” ‘“No more mischievous than Richard Eliot, the pale-faced idiot,” cried Edward. ‘* Yes! so our old tutor, Green, advises you,” rejoined his brother, ‘* What have you to do with that’ man?” said both their astonished visitors in anxiety. He won’t boast over} Edward answered, ‘‘He only comes to see Wren; and though old Baldy would not like it, he contrives somehow to get admittance.” '. “Have as little as possible to do with him, Edward.” “ He tells us about the Court,” replied Kd- ward, ‘‘and the great Duke; and about the Queen and her beautiful ladies, Eva and Flora, and the fair Gabrielle; and they send us pres- ents and ribbons.” “«Yes,” said George bitterly, ‘and for them you forget all your old frieuds—even Alice,” “No, I don’t,” said Edward; ‘‘ but you are taken up with your Eliots and Vanes, and this troublesome new Parliament, which I would like silenced, so that King and Queen might rule, as God meant them to do,” ‘Why, Edward, you have learnt a great deal in a short time! Ought not the King to take the advice of a Parliament when he has called it? Would you wish your own father, and Alice’s father, to be fined and lodged in prison, as they certainly would be if the wish you ex- press were fulfilled?” ‘Nay, sir, 1 love father, and all of you, as much as George; but I never heard abvut the King’s troubles before, and I am sorry for them,” stammered Edward, with tears in hig eyes, ae Boys,” said his father, ‘‘ beware of sever- ing from each other. Do not think you can understard these State matters, which puzzle your elders. Get on with your school learning, and, please God, when you come home; we can talk of these things together.” “Father,” said George, ‘‘we shall be all right. Edward’s as good as gold, and like to be one of the first scholars, if it weren’t for this Tutor, who tries to influence and sever us, We are quite happy, and very good friends in the main.” ALICE BRI “That we are,” cordially rejoined Edward, with his old brightness; and so the interview ended. The Alderman seemed to accept this issue, or to hide his uneasy thoughts; but the Fleming could not help discerning ‘‘ the little rift in the lute,” and fearing that a beginning was laid for the division already rending En- | glish society by weaning from each other these affectionate brothers. The Fleming took occasion to call at the Queen’s side of the Palace, and ask if any in. structions awaited him. He was ushered, as he had hoped, into a private chamber where were Gabrielle and her mother, both rather pre- occupied and ceremonious. After some formal messages regarding the royal wants and orders, the Fleming begged to know if he could have the honor of doing anything abroad for these ladies. The mother replied that they were de- sirous of quitting England soon themselves. A cold and tedious conversation ensued, almost in monosyllables, constantiy threatening to cease, and reopening with effort, until at last the mother remembered some business which called her away. Finding himself free from restraint, the Fleming then approached his fair mistress, saying, ‘‘ Does Gabrielle accept this French settlement ?—I can hardly believe or endure it.” The young lady lifted her face with a mis- chievous expression, and replied, ‘‘ What else am I todo, Philip? Wait till the Dutch Com. panies are dissolved, and my earlier knight puts off his russet jerkin, and arrives cap-d-pie to rescue me?” ‘Oh, Gabrielle, throw not yourself away !— if not for my sake, at least for your own. This Duke de Rochefoucauld whom they talk of-— but I will not malign even him. Ask Bucking- ham what he is, and he will say too Jike him- self. Can you love him—can you endure such a lot?” ‘*And what is the alternative?” pouted the lovely girl. ‘‘Am I, the butterfly, to come down and mate myself with the hedgehog or the snail?” ‘Thanks for the eomparison, lady !—but per- chance the snail would leave his shell, and find wings to meet the butterfly, did she only call him to her side.” She playfully retired a few steps, in a sort of dancing measure, and then returned again with an airy grace, and said, ‘‘ Philip, I always liked you, and do so now. You have saved me from many evils—none worse than those of this Court, But I am not good enough for you; after all, I am only a Court flutterer. I love this Queen, who is very kind to me. I despise the Duke, and his cold haughty master, I know the devilry which haunts this place. Yet lam a worldling, proud of my rank, and of courtly admiration and incense; fond of ceaseless lux- ury and mirth. I shrink from all that is coarse and low bred.” Here she again went off ina sort of dance, going and returning, fixing bright eyes on her guest, which were as fiery arrows of love in the center of his heart. Then pausing once more, she continued, ‘‘I could not do it —that’s the honest truth, ’Tis against my na- ture,—though I like you so much, and am so grateful to you. Yet don’t ask me to make the sacrifice. I-might not be able to resist, but I am not fit for it yet.” “ YET—yYET!” echoed the Fleming with a gleam of joy; ‘‘ then I may wait and hope?” ‘“And be a fool for your pains!” said the laughing lady; and then, clear as a lark, she trilled out Suckling’s verses: “ But love is such a mystery, I cannot make it out; For when I think I'm best resolved, I then am most in doubt,” The Fleming listened in a sort of rapture, but waking from it, he sighed and answered: ‘“** Give me more love or more disdain: The torrid or-the frozen zone Bring equal ease unto my pain; The temperate affords me none. Either extreme of love or hate Is sweeter than a calm estate.’ Farewell, dear lady. I will live awhile upon ‘yet,’ and hourly wish your happiness, though it were at the expense of my own.” ‘*Nay,” replied she, “I forbid it. Dear Philip, give me up. I dismiss you. Go and be happy your own way. Iam not made for that way. Some one will be richly happy in your noble heart; but there is a lofty strain in it—I know not what—that frets and mortifies me too keenly for happiness, Farewell, my good friend!” M8. DGE OF NORWIOH. 27 Long after midnight, our hero was making | his way home, when he saw-a crowd gathered in the road around a handsome chariot. A band of wild roysterers—aristocratic youths, masked and half-drunk, such as infested the streets ut nightfall, calling themselves Roar- ing Blades, or Hellfire Ruffians, and who took liberties with all passers-by, had stopped this carriage to indulge the pleasure of ad- miring and terrifying the beauties it con- tained. He saw some of these rnde fellows, with their wild songs, their naked swords, and flashing torches, drag from the open doora shrinking lady whom they were forcing to dance a measure with them on the public pavement. Roused by this lawless spectacle, the Fleming looked anxiously for the watch, and called one of the sleepy constables to blow his horn and summon his fellows. The Fleming’s move- ments were quickened by catching sight of a white figure too familiar, and hearing the cry of a voice he could not mistake. It was his Gabrielle and her mother who were being thus wickedly abused. lt was the work ofa moment to rush into the midst, sword in hand, to dash back the half-intoxicated rowés, to reseat the ladies in the shelter of their carriage, and to close the door, as he heard her say, ‘‘ Oh‘ Philip, thanks,—but care for yourself!” Then, turning to the people, he said, ‘‘ The lady ismy friend—one of the Queen’s maids of honor. Who will stand by me for a rescue?” The rioters prepared to assail the solitary champion who had so impetuously interfered with their pleasures. A few stout passers-by, however, ranged themseives on his side in defense of law and female security, The fight was very severe. The rioters and the crowd were a multitude, and the defenders but a thin line of brave men encompassed on every side by furious foes. Some were severely wounded on both sides, and the clash of weapons and yells of angry war filled the thoroughfare. Hitherto the Fleming had kept his many antagonists at bay, anil had succeeded in warding off every blow. He was relieved to hear the watch tardily mustering, and cries of ‘‘Fly—fiy! the watch is at hand!” made him hopeful of succor at last. While looking round for a moment to see the real state of matters, he was struck on the temple by a large stone, which laid him senseless on the ground at the mercy of his foes. But the fray was now over. Ths ruffians who had caused it hastily escaped, The watch arrived at leisure, when all dan- ger wasover, They took charge of the wounded —Van Diense among them—to convey them ‘to some place of medical aid. Gabrielle insisted on leaving her carriage and seeing herself if life remained in her poor friend. Thankfully satis- fied, as she knelt by his side, that he still lived, she would have taken him home with them, but the watch claimed him as their prisoner. She made them promise to take him to the nearest doctor, and paid them handsomely to take care of him, and bring her news where and how he was. The watch then hurried the ladies away, lest their persecutors should returd. They left them at the Palace, after demanding an extortionate largesse, and took full credit to themselves as their saviors; for, as they sagaciously put the case, ‘But for us, your ladyships would have been kidnapped or murdered ;—-the Queen herself could not have saved you. What could that poor gentleman have done? he must have died but for us. We saved you all, as we do night after night, in all sorts of perils.—hungry, sleepy, watching, and fighting, The rogues could not face us,—not they.” Next morning our wounded hero, thanks to the care and skill of an able leech, had almost recovered, though a dark bruise on the