« AnteriorContinuar »
* greater sum ready in some hand, to make use of for gaining others 'to our interest, as perhaps the affairs will require. I need not 'say more,but commit my fortune to your conduct, who am
Jacob MartinetSluys, April 1, 1690.
These confessions of both Jacob Martinet and of Cornelius Reolands being again read in open court, they both of them received sentence in these words:
'Forasmuch as you Jacob Martinet, and you Cornelius Reolands, 'are by your own confession, and other legal proofs and letters, 'found guilty of holding a correspondence with Monsieur Rayon, 'colonel of a French regiment in the French king's army, and with * Monsieur de Terry, secretary of war under the Marshal Duke of 'Laxemburgh, in order to betray the garison and town of Sluys to 'the French for a sum of money, agreed to be paid by the said Mon* 'sieur de Terry, to you Jacob Martinet, and to you Cornelius 'Reolands, for doing thereof. By which action the whole province 'of Holland and neighbouring provinces would have been in eminent hazards of being thereupon ruined by the French army j therefore the court does hereby adjudge you the said Jacob Martinet, to be taken back to prison, and thence, upon the sixth of May, instant, to be drawn upon a cart to the publick market-place of this town, and there to be hanged up by the neck on a gibbet, and, being near dead, to have your bowels ripped up, and thereafter, being fully dead, to have your body divided into four quarters, to be disposed of as the court shall afterwards think fit, 'and your head to be severed from your body, and affixed upon the very same gate of this town which you designed to open to the enemy. Likewise the court adjudges you the said Cornelius Reolands, to be taken back to the prison, and, upon the said sixth of this instant May, to be taken to the said market-place of this town of Sluys, and there to be hanged up by the neck 'upon a gibbet until you be dead. And this we give for a final * sentence against you both, wishing God may shew mercy to your 'souls.'
According to this sentence, upon the said sixth day of May instant, the said Jacob Martinet was brought to the place of execu. tion, where he behaved himself very impenitently, and refused to speak to the people, and had the sentence executed upon him as aforesaid.
After him came Cornelius Reolands, who, both in prison, and at the place of execution, carried himself very devoutly and penitently: And, asking leave if he might speak to the people, he expressed himself in words to this purpose, a copy whereof he had given before* hand to the sheriff or scapen that attended him.
VOL. ii. G g
* Good Christian People, t I am brought here justly, for designing to betray my country 'o a foreign enemy for a sum of money. I confess myself guilty of t the crime, and I beg God's forgiveness and your forgiveness for it, t and am willing to die for it, as I justly deserve. I must say, I t did for some months resist the offers that were made me by theunt happy man that is gone before me; but at length my wants prevailed
4 -with me to accept what I thought would rid me out of them. This I do
* not say to excuse myself in the least; God forbid I should. And as t I consented to betray this town, so I did promise to do another
4 villainy, which indeed I forgot to tell my judges at my tryal; and t it was, to see if I could prevail with any captains of ships, to bet tray their ships to the French, for which I was to receive money t from the French secretary of war to give to those captains. I
* hope your displeasure against me for so villainous designs will end, t when I have satisfied justice with my blood. I earnestly beg the « assistance of your prayers for me, in this my agony; and I com'mit my soul to God, hoping to be saved by the merits of Christ, 'my redeemer.'
Having delivered himself thus, and heard the minister that waited on him pray, and having prayed himself, he was just going to be turned off, when, pulling up the handkerchief that was over his eyes, he said, 'Good people, there is one thing my conscience obliges me
* to tell you with my last breath, and it is this: I am afraid there
* are many such designs in hand, up and down this country, like 'this, for which I suffer; and I wish there may be some effectual 'means to prevent them; for I assure you the French agents are very 'busy every where, and they spare no money to obtain their ends. 'I have no more to say, but again beg earnestly the assistance of 'your prayers: and I commit my soul to God.'
Having thus said, he was turned over the ladder, and his body afterwards, by order of the magistrates, was given to his friends to be buried.
Thus we have one sad example more of the ill effects of the French money towards our country and commonwealth; but we hope God will disappoint all their designs, and bring their accomplices to just punishment.
ADIALOGUEBETWEEN FRANCISCO AND AURELIA, TWO UNFORTUNATE ORPHANS
CITY OF LONDON.
Licensed, November 4, 1690. London, printed for Randal Taylor, near Stationer's-IIall, 1690. Quarto, containing eight pages.
Guildhall, Nov. 3. 1690.
•ee; though I as little suspected to meet you here, as to find a quaker behind the scenes in the play-house.
Aurelia. Why, sir, think you that young women have no business in Guildhall .'
Franc. Yes, madam, but hardly so early in a morning. Had it been the fourteenth of February, I should have suspected you came hither to select one of the aldermen for your Valentine. Aurel. You are pleased to be merry, sir: What merits have I to deserve an alderman?
Franc. You cloud your own worth by your singular modesty; it is well known, that some, who have worn the purple, have taken their cook-maids into the bed with them; and, I hope, madam, their deserts ought not to be named with yours.
Aurel. You seem to be better acquainted with me, than I am with myself; but, sir, I hope you have not so ill an opinion of our sex in general, or of me in particular, to think that, in affairs of that nature, women are used to make the first advances.
Franc. Yes; in a little foolish gallantry, like this, a lady may go a great way, before she treads upon the heels of modesty.
Aurel. Yes, and that little foolish gallantry, as you are pleased to name it, shall be called fondness on our part; for it is the admirable temper of most of your sex, if you observe any thing in a woman's conversation, which you can interpret to your advantage, the nearer you find her approaches, the farther you fly from her, and tell it in
company over a bottle The truth of it is, Jack, I could love Mrs.
such an one, but she is so coming, that
Franc. No more, no more, good madam.
Aurel. Yes, one word more, and then as silent as you please. Modesty on our part serves to whet and heighten your desires; for it is a virtue of such reputation, that, where you cannot find the original, you dote upon the copy. Witness the truth of what I say, in the conduct of the lewdest women of the town, whose counterfeit virtue allures you to an intrigue, whereas an open declaration of their infamous way of living would frighten you from an amour,
Franc. But, in this discourse of modesty and intrigue, we hare lost our alderman.
Aurel. What have I done, that I should be haunted with alder, men? You are not so ill a philosopher, as not to know, that content and happiness are not always the attendants on a plentiful fortune; which I am neither so vain to wish, nor have merits to deserve, how. ever some of my sex may be pleased with the title of an alderman's lady.
Franc. Now, by this aversion of yours to an alderman, I humbly conceive, madam, you are one of the orphans of the city of London.
Aurel. You are much in the right, sir; and, if I mistake not, by meeting you here so often, I suppose you are one of the same unhappy number.
Franc. It is certainly so, madam; for, like the widow Blackacre, in the Plain Dealer, I am forced to sollicit my own cause.
Aurel. I come hither upon the same melancholy account, but have as much luck in the attempt, as a poor fellow, that sues for an estate in forma pauperis.
Franc. Well! there is certainly a pleasure in rehearsing one's misfortunes, especially if the person, to whom they are told, can oblige one with a like relation; please you, therefore, madam, to repose yourself upon this seat, and allow one, that is not a perfect stranger to you, a quarter of an hour's conversation, since we are fallen upon a subject that equally concerns us both.
Aurel. The pleasure of that conversation will be wholly on my part, sir.
Franc. Good madam, let us not talk as if we were in a dancing. school, but lay all compliments aside as superfluous as fine clothes at a funeral.
Aurel. The subject, I confess, is almost as melancholy; for, were our bodies in as desperate a condition as our fortunes, I fear Jesuits powder would do us but little good.
Franc. The truth of it is, we have lived upon hope a long time— A fine, thin, cooling diet, and as necessary, in our circumstances, as water-gruelto a man troubled with an over-heated liver.
Aurel. I think we may, not improperly, call this place the land of promise, where we are treated with all the civility possible. 'Indeed, madam, I think of your petition. Truly, sir, you will not fail next court-day. I profess, madam, I do not neglect your business.' And all this is nothing but ceremony and compliment, acted with so much gravity, that, on a court-day, I have satisfied myself to have seen Mr. Bays's grand dance in the Rehearsal.
Franc. Indeed, our daily attendance is somewhat like the story of the fellow, that made love to an invisible mistress.
Aurel. But, pray, sir, give me leave to inquire of you the reasons, or occasions of the practice of putting the orphans' money into the chamber of London; by what authority demanded; and whether our deceased parents were not influenced by custom, and had a wrong notion of the matter. For, could they have foreseen what has since happened, they would as soon have ordered their executors to have laid out their money in ruffs and farthingals, as to have put it into that bottomless pit, the chamber.
Franc. A place somewhat resembling Michael Angelo's picture of hell, from whence the pope himself could not redeem a cardinal there painted. But, not to run too far from your question, the reasons of the practice were, at first, intentionally good and pious;for
Aurel. So were religious houses in the times of the primitive persecutions, but posterity improved the matter into monasteries and nunneries, though, since, nurseries of luxury and idleness.
Franc. Your digression is pithy enough, madam; but, pray, give me leave to proceed. As to the authority, by which it is demanded, it is well known, that, the city of London being, by virtue of Magna Charta, a body corporate, they have a power or commission to enact petty laws and customs among themselves, as they shall see most fit, for the better government of the city
Aurel. Yes, sir, such as ordering the assize of bread, or penny loaves, for the use of school-boys and journeymen taylors.
Franc. Still you will be facetious. But to proceed. Amongst other customs, this was enacted by common-council, no doubt, that every freeman dying, and leaving a widow and children behind him, for the better security of what he left them (lest, having their fortunes in their own power, they might embezzle it, or else be betrayed to very unequal, if not scandalous matches:) The money, I say, was paid into the chamberlain's-office, the sum registered, and his note given for security; the lord mayor, for the time being, and the court of aldermen, becoming guardians or trustees to the said widow and orphans, either of which were not to marry, without their consent first had and obtained.
Aurel. With submission to their authority, I shall never trouble them with the question.
Franc. Heaven be praised, at present the condition of that obligation is void; I Thomas may take thee Abigail, without that license; nay, invite the aldermen to dinner, and they never be offended at it. Aurel. But, granting the intention was good and pious, did it ever answer the end proposed?
Franc. Yes, unquestionably, for several scores of years; for I love to do justice to the memory of the dead.
Aurel. I wish my thoughts would allow me that liberty to the living. But how comes it to pass, sir, that the bank is not in that reputation as formerly, the city being much more rich and populous?Franc. Now, madam, you ask a very knotty question; but, to the best of my memory, the exchequer, being shut up some time before the bank you speak of, languished in esteem about the year 1681; yet, with submission, I believe we may go higher, even as far the year 1641, London being esteemed by some at Westminster, what was said of England formerly at Rome, that it was puteus intxhaustus, a well never to be drawn dry: Something went to the maintaining that unnatural war, besides bodkins and thimbles. The prosecuting of the then miscalled godly cause calling for vast sums