Riding up to the foot of the rock, and waiting the return of the Cavaliers, he inquired for the author and the cause of Manning's death; but they had not ascertained by whom or by what orders the pistol had been fired; a point, indeed, which they hardly seemed to think worth the trouble of investigation, all parties agreeing that it was the most desirable consummation that could possibly have happened. Dead men, they reminded him, tell no tales; Thurloe would see no more of his handwriting; and they heartily wished that they had red-nosed Noll at the same issue, that they might send him to cut similar capers through the air. With these expressions, and a few unfeeling jokes upon the fate of Manning not worth the trouble of recording, the Cavaliers set out on their return to Bruges, leaving Sir John and Jocelyn to prosecute their journey to Paris. CHAPTER XI. "Among themselves the tourney they divide, ON crossing the frontiers of France, Sir John and his son had an opportunity of ob ving the extreme misery of the peasantry, who, in addition to the gabelle, and other taxes and impositions by which they were already oppressed, were subject to such perpetual depredation from foreigners and freebooters of all the contending parties, that those who were not already ruined by contribution and pillage found it prudent to present an appearance of the most squalid wretchedness, as their only security against farther exactions. Leaving these forlorn borderers, like corn between the upper and nether millstones, to be ground and crushed by the collision of the two nations, they pushed forward for Paris, at which capital they duly arrived. The baronet had provided himself with letters to Sir Richard Browne, an envoy of the king's, who still resided in that city, though not recognised as such by the French government. In obedience to the dictates of Cromwell in the late treaty, they had ordered the English monarch out of the French territories, giving him a small supply of money, which was quickly wasted; and making him large promises for the future, which prisoner. But all the court being highly incensed against him for his perfidiousnesse, one of his majesty's servants, (though contrary to order,) pistoled him as he was lighting out of the coach at the castle gate, giving him less than the due reward of his so abominable treachery." The present writer has consulted this tract, which appears to have been presented to the British Museum by George III. and bears the following title: - "The History of His Sacred Majesty Charles II. King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, De fender of the Faith, &c. Begun from the murder of his royal father, of Happy Memory, and continued to this present year 1660. By a person of Quality. London, 12mo; printed for Thos. Davies." It throws no additional light upon the transaction in question, but has furnished him with several details, of which he has availed himself else. where HEATH, who published his chronicle after the Restoration, expressly says, in his notice of this occurrence: "At the instance of the whole court, the king was prevailed upon to let him be shot in one of the castles of the Duke of Newburgh, (to terrifie all other faithless and disloyal servants, and to satisfie for some of that blood Cromwell had spilt upon the score of his perfidy,) where he wretchedly and most abjectly died." Part 3, p. 368. Charles the Second's aunt, the Queen of Bohemia, writing to Sir Edward Nicholas, from the Hague, says, "I understand that that arch villaine Manning has receaued his just desert. I wish all those of his cabal with him." had never been performed. In this emergency, the Spaniards, then at war with the Protector, invited the wandering court into Flanders; where the Duke of York, at the head of a few motley regiments, mostly Irish, had accompanied Don John to the relief of Dunkirk, as we have already shown; while his royal brother established his necessitous, though gay and joyous, court at Bruges. Sir Richard Browne, under whose care it was his father's intention to place Jocelyn, willingly undertook that office; declaring, however, that his own stay at Paris was rendered by political circumstances extremely uncertain, especially since the arrival of Cromwell's ambassador at the French court; while he was in daily apprehension of an arrest, for debts incurred in the service of the king, from whom he had not received sufficient even to pay the rent of his house. As long, however, as he should remain, he promised his good offices; adding, that Jocelyn should join the studies and military exercises of two or three youths of condition, whom the convulsed times had occasioned to be sent to Paris, and whose education he had been equally commissioned to superintend. To the establishment of these young men in the Fauxbourg St. Germain, he was accordingly introduced; and his father, after promising to correspond with him regularly, and giving him much good advice, particularly that he should attend closely to his military exercises, and never go near Noll's rascally Roundhead ambassador, shook him heartily by the hand, bade him adieu, and set off on his return to Bruges. Just at the dangerous period of incipient manhood, gifted with a noble, generous, and kindly temperament, but of strong passions, and inflexible in his purposes, was Jocelyn thus left to himself in a dissipated capital, without parental guidance or any efficient control, to assist him in forming the mould of which his now ductile mind was to receive the permanent impression. His young companions, equally free from all restraint, except the equivocal authority of Sir Richard Browne, and the lax discipline of their French tutor, were little disposed to set him any very instructive example; it may easily be imagined, therefore, that the whole party devoted themselves more sedulously to amusement than to their studies; and frequented balls and theatres more punctually than the lecture-room or Sir Richard's chapel, where the English liturgy was still read twice a week. In obedience, however, to his father's injunctions, Jocelyn applied himself strictly to his military exercises; and his duty being in this instance seconded by inclination, he soon eclipsed all his competitors; being not less admired for the singular comeliness of his person, than the dexterity and grace with which he went through all the evolutions of the manege, particularly in the mastery of the great horse. In the academy of Monsieur du Plessis, where were kept nearly a hundred brave horses, all managed to the great saddle, he not only perfected himself in the language, by associating with the young French nobility who frequented that establishment, but took lessons in fencing, dancing, and music, as well as occasional instructions in fortification and the mathematics; so that if he neglected the more abstruse parts of learning, he was, at least, qualifying himself to become an accomplished cavalier and a good officer. By frequenting this establishment he had already formed acquaintance with several distinguished families, both French and English, in whose houses he was a welcome visitant, and thus beguiled, in some degree, the loneliness of his situation. The number of his associates was now about to be increased by an occurrence which had considerable influence upon his future destiny. One fine morning of the summer, he had wandered with a book into the gardens of the Luxembourg Palace, situated in the immediate vicinity of his residence, whose stately marble fountains, terraces, groves, parterres, grottoes, and umbrageous alleys, had often enabled him to wile away an idle hour in admiration of their various attractions. Upon this occasion, which was a public holyday, the formal and somewhat melancholy effect of the gloomy shades and trim embroidery in which the gardens were distributed, was relieved by the gay and motley appearance of the company. In some of the darker walks were seen melancholy friars in the habits of their different orders, slowly pacing up and down, or gathered into little parties, their robes mingling with the shade of the trees, and allowing nothing but their bald heads to be visible; at the extremity of the same alley were officers, gay ladies, and noble gallants, whose rich dresses and steel-hilted swords glittered in the sun; here upon a bench were studious scholars, with eyes riveted to their book; there in a verdant alcove were lovers whispering to one another; and on the grass-plots around were a motley company of both sexes, amusing themselves at all sorts of sports, singing, playing upon the guitar, or forming little sets of graceful dancers, who tripped merrily upon the sward to the rural sound of the pipe and tabor. Having amused himself some time in contemplating this diversified scene, Jocelyn strolled to a pool of water at the extremity of the enclosure, where the Duke of Orleans kept a number of tortoises. A singularly beautiful youth, apparently a few years younger than himself, and whom he instantly recognised by his dress and appearance for a fellow countryman, had taken up one of these animals to examine it; while a French gentleman in splendid clothes was desiring him, in rather arrogant and offensive terms, to replace it in the water, express orders having been given against touching them. Either not choosing to obey so imperious a mandate, or not understanding the voluble terms in which it was conveyed, the youth retained the tortoise in his hand, looking up at the same time in the Gaul's angry face with a smiling wonderment that seemed to increase his agitation. When Jocelyn, however, volunteering the office of interpreter, explained to him what was required, the youth said he would instantly comply if the request were civilly and temperately made. This reasonable condition Jocelyn stated with all imaginable courtesy to the Frenchman, who, instead of acceding to the proposition, fell foul of the mediator, even proceeding so far in his wrath as to brandish, in a menacing manner, a little black baguette which he held in his hand. The inflammable temperament of his opponent was kindled in a moment. Snatching the uplifted wand and snapping it across his knee, he put one foot behind the Frenchman, as he continued angrily advancing, and at the same time giving him a smart push upon the chest, he rolled backwards upon the ground, breaking his sword in his fall, and disturbing a cloud of scented pulvilio from his peruke. He rose, however, in a twinkling, and ran off in a transport of rage calling for the surveillans and the guards. At this juncture an old Frenchman who had witnessed the whole transaction came up, and informing them that their antagonist was the young Duke of Anjou, pointed to a side door, by which he recommended them to make an immediate escape, if they did not wish to be arrested, and pay a visit of indefinite duration to the bastile. Deeming it prudent to adopt this advice, they made the best of their way into the streets, walking at a brisk pace in the direction of the river. During their progress, the handsome stranger, after thanking Jocelyn for his interference, and expressing a hope that it would not lead him into trouble, informed him that his own name was James Crofts, that he resided at the cardinal's palace with his father, Lord Crofts, who was in the train of Henrietta Maria, the queen mother of England, and invited him to go and claim his lordship's protection, should the recent occurrence be attended with any unpleasant results. By this time they had reached the banks of the Seine, and induced by the warmth of the day, as well as the example of others, they undressed and went to bathe. To this fortunate chance they probably owed their escape from an arrest, that might have terminated very unpleasantly, for they had hardly entered the water when they saw a party of surveillans and servants in the royal livery hastening forward for their apprehension; but not dreaming of finding the fugitives in the middle of the stream, they hurried along its banks, and were presently out of sight. Determined to prolong their bath until their pursuers should have abandoned the search, Jocelyn, who was an expert swimmer, remained sporting in the deep water, when he was suddenly seized with the cramp, and finding himself sinking, was obliged to call out for help. Although he possessed not so perfect a mastery of the element, his companion was still a tolerable swimmer, and striking instantly forward to his assistance, succeeded in extricating him from the danger, by supporting him into shallow water at the imminent risk of his own life. They now dressed themselves with all speed, went to their respective homes, and both being cautioned to keep the house for a few days, the untoward rencounter at the Luxembourg Palace passed over without any other consequence than its having suddenly established a friendship between two young men, which, being cemented by congeniality of age and temper, as well as by a sense of service mutually conferred and received, soon rendered them almost inseparable companions. A considerable time elapsed before Jocelyn received any tidings of Sir John, from whom, however, there at length came a letter, announcing in terms of the most boisterous, rampant, and immeasurable glee the death of the Protector, loading him with an abundance of posthumous abuse, and enclosing for his son's recreation a scurrilous ballad on the subject, entitled, A Dialogue between Old Noll and Charon. He proceeded to state, that the court were all in high spirits; that money already began to grow more abundant in the increased hopes of a restoration; and that he had been thereby enabled to make a remittance for his use, as he intended still to leave him in Paris until the affairs of England should assume a more settled form. - Another long interval of many months brought a second epistle from the baronet, who endeavoured to excuse his silence by reminding his son, that he would at any time much rather wield a lance and tilt at an opponent, than handle a pen to answer a correspondent. His present missive, couched in not less exuberant triumph than the last, conveyed the glorious tidings of the Restoration, with all the rejoicings, addresses, firing of salutes, illuminations, tergiversations, prostrations, and intoxications, by which the people had testified the delirium of their delight. So extravagant, and at the same time, so universal had been their apparent satisfaction, that the king had observed with his usual pleasantry "Surely it can be nobody's fault but my own that I have stayed so long abroad, when all mankind have been wishing me so heartily at home." In conclusion, the baronet stated his belief that he had drunk the king's health until he made some inroads upon his own, since he was laid up with an attack of the gout; gave an account of the horrible dilapidations committed upon Brambletye House in his absence; expressed his apprehensions that he should be involved in a lawsuit for the recovery of his property, which had been sold by the committee of sequestration, and promised to recall his son as soon as this most vexatious affair, and certain other domestic difficulties, the nature of which he did not explain, should be concluded and removed. Time, however, rolled on without any redemption of this pledge; and Jocelyn, in the mean while, had not only perfected himself in the French language, and made himself master of the guitar, then the fashionable instrument, but had more sedulously prosecuted his other studies and exercises; while his form developing itself as favourably as his mind, had now assumed the full and fine symmetry of manly beauty. In his visits to Lord Crofts he had for some time past remarked a singular change in the demeanour of all parties towards his young friend, who was treated with a marked deference, even by his own father, that little assorted with paternal authority:—the queen mother admitted him to all her parties, comporting herself towards him as if he were upon a footing of equality and friendship; and the officers of the household, though they might wonder at the cause of this familiarity, took their cue from their mistress, and eagerly tendered a homage of which the queen set the first example. Nor was the object of this deference less changed than the mode of his treatment. His beautiful figure was displayed to the best advantage by splendid clothes and rich decorations; he had a greater command of money, which he squandered as lavishly as it was supplied; and the quick apprehension of youth suggesting to him that there must be some secret grounds for the high distinctions he received, he was not backward in adarting himself to his supposed dignity by a more consequential carriage, and a certain air of hauteur, which was pronounced arrogance by some who thought it unwarranted by his rank and station: while the queen mother had been heard to remark that nature and blood would disclose themselves in spite of all the restraints of circumstance. Various and shrewd were the guesses elicited by this random observation, which confirmed those who heard it in the prudence of paying court to the young favourite. Fortunately for the preservation of his intimacy with Jocelyn, who was little disposed to admit any assumptions of superiority, the young man preserved in all their intercourse the same footing of frank and familiar equality, which had distinguished the commencement of their friendship; and, indeed, upon one occasion of exhibition before the court, voluntarily placed himself in an inferior station to Jocelyn. Louis the Fourteenth, then in the prime of youth and beauty, and himself a perfect adept in all the accomplishments of chivalry, to whose sports he was passionately addicted, had some time before published a notice to all princes and knights, according to the ancient formula of invitation, that upon a specified day he meant to commence a series of carousals at Paris, to consist of jousts, tilts, and a tournament with clashing of swords, in the presence of ladies and damsels, and under the customary regulations. Prodigious bustle and interest had been excited by this announcement; arrangements were made by the court for celebrating the festival with a magnificence that should eclipse all former precedent; the Place Carrousel in the Louvre was fitted up for the courses with extraordinary splendour; and every individual who was to figure in this royal entertainment, seemed resolved to equip himself with a brilliancy worthy of the occasion, and of the lavish expenditure of the monarch. Armour of all sorts was instantly put into busy requisition; cuirasses of Milan steel, inlaid with gold or precious stones; gorgeous casques, embossed or sculptured by Benvenuto Cellini; swords of Damascus, Toledo, or Ferrara; gorgets, cuisses, gauntlets; all were ferreted out from their repositories, and furbished up for selection; while many a long lance was taken down from its rest, and poised by the intended combatants, that they might decide upon the proper weight and length. Nor were the ladies of the court, and others who had obtained the enviable privilege of being admitted into the galleries, less solicitous to do justice to the occasion, as well as to their own charms, by the gallant bravery of their decorations. Silks and satins, plumes, diamonds, and jewellery, with all the paraphernalia of the female toilet, kept every heart in a constant flutter of agitation, so difficult was the choice, and so great the competition with which each fair candidate for admiration would necessarily have to contend. Sir Guy Narborough, an English knight, hitherto unrivalled at these sports, came to Paris upon the occasion, and had selected James Crofts, on account of his great personal comeliness, for his principal squire. He |