The Star Chamber, Volume 1 by W. Harrison Ainsworth

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THE STAR-CHAMBER;

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE,

BY W. HARRISON AINSWORTH, ESQ.

AUTHOR OF "WINDSOR CASTLE," &C.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LEIPZIG

BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ

1854.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.

CHAPTER

I. The Three Cranes in the Vintry
II. Sir Giles Mompesson and his partner
III. The French ordinary
IV. A Star-Chamber victim
V. Jocelyn Mounchensey
VI. Provocation
VII. How Lord Roos obtained Sir Francis Mitchell's signature
VIII. Of Lupo Vulp, Captain Bludder, Clement Lanyere,
and Sir Giles's other Myrmidons
IX. The Letters-Patent
X. The 'prentices and their leader
XI. John Wolfe
XII. The Arrest and the Rescue
XIII. How Jocelyn Mounchensey encountered a masked horseman
on Stamford Hill
XIV. The May-Queen and the Puritan's Daughter
XV. Hugh Calveley
XVI. Of the sign given by the Puritan to the Assemblage
XVII. A rash promise
XVIII. How the promise was cancelled
XIX. Theobalds' Palace
XX. King James the First
XXI. Consequences of the Puritan's warning
XXII. Wife and Mother-in-Law
XXIII. The Tress of Hair
XXIV. The Fountain Court
XXV. Sir Thomas Lake
XXVI. The forged Confession
XXVII. The Puritan's Prison
XXVIII. The Secret
XXIX. Luke Hatton

"I will make a Star-Chamber matter of it."
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

CHAPTER I.

The Three Cranes in the Vintry.

Adjoining the Vintry Wharf, and at the corner of a narrow lane
communicating with Thames Street, there stood, in the early part of the
Seventeenth Century, a tavern called the Three Cranes. This old and
renowned place of entertainment had then been in existence more than two
hundred years, though under other designations. In the reign of Richard
II., when it was first established, it was styled the Painted Tavern,
from the circumstance of its outer walls being fancifully coloured and
adorned with Bacchanalian devices. But these decorations went out of
fashion in time, and the tavern, somewhat changing its external
features, though preserving all its internal comforts and accommodation,
assumed the name of the Three Crowns, under which title it continued
until the accession of Elizabeth, when it became (by a slight
modification) the Three Cranes; and so remained in the days of her
successor, and, indeed, long afterwards.

Not that the last-adopted denomination had any reference, as might be
supposed, to the three huge wooden instruments on the wharf, employed
with ropes and pulleys to unload the lighters and other vessels that
brought up butts and hogsheads of wine from the larger craft below
Bridge, and constantly thronged the banks; though, no doubt, they
indirectly suggested it. The Three Cranes depicted on the large
signboard, suspended in front of the tavern, were long-necked,
long-beaked birds, each with a golden fish in its bill.

But under whatever designation it might be known--Crown or Crane--the
tavern had always maintained a high reputation for excellence of wine:
and this is the less surprising when we take into account its close
proximity to the vast vaults and cellars of the Vintry, where the
choicest produce of Gascony, Bordeaux, and other wine-growing districts,
was deposited; some of which we may reasonably conclude would find its
way to its tables. Good wine, it may be incidentally remarked, was cheap
enough when the Three Cranes was first opened, the delicate juice of the
Gascoign grape being then vended, at fourpence the gallon, and Rhenish
at sixpence! Prices, however, had risen considerably at the period of
which we propose to treat; but the tavern was as well-reputed and
well-frequented as ever: even more so, for it had considerably advanced
in estimation since it came into the hands of a certain enterprising
French skipper, Prosper Bonaventure by name, who intrusted its
management to his active and pretty little wife Dameris, while he
himself prosecuted his trading voyages between the Garonne and the
Thames. And very well Madame Bonaventure fulfilled the duties of
hostess, as will be seen.

Now, as the skipper was a very sharp fellow, and perfectly understood
his business-practically anticipating the Transatlantic axiom of buying
at the cheapest market and gelling at the dearest-he soon contrived to
grow rich. He did more: he pleased his customers at the Three Cranes.
Taking care to select his wines judiciously, and having good
opportunities, he managed to obtain possession of some delicious
vintages, which, could not be matched elsewhere; and, with this nectar
at his command, the fortune of his house was made. All the town gallants
flocked to the Three Cranes to dine at the admirable French ordinary
newly established there, and crush a flask or so of the exquisite
Bordeaux, about which, and its delicate flavour and bouquet, all the
connoisseurs in claret were raving. From, mid-day, therefore, till late
in the afternoon, there were nearly as many gay barges and wherries as
lighters lying off the Vintry Wharf; and sometimes, when accommodation
was wanting, the little craft were moored along the shore all the way
from Queenhithe to the Steelyard; at which latter place the Catherine
Wheel was almost as much noted for racy Rhenish and high-dried neat's
tongues, as our tavern was for fine Bordeaux and well-seasoned pates.

Not the least, however, of the attractions of the Three Cranes, was the
hostess herself. A lively little brunette was Madame Bonaventure, still
young, or, at all events, very far from being old; with extremely fine
teeth, which she was fond of displaying, and a remarkably neat ancle,
which she felt no inclination to hide beneath the sweep of her round
circling farthingale. Her figure was quite that of a miniature Venus;
and as, like most of her country-women, she understood the art of dress
to admiration, she set off her person to the best advantage; always
attiring herself in a style, and in colours, that suited her, and never
indulging in an unwarrantable extravagance of ruff, or absurd and
unbecoming length of peaked boddice. As to the stuffs she wore, they
were certainly above her station, for no Court dame could boast of
richer silks than those in which the pretty Dameris appeared on fete
days; and this was accounted for by reason that the good skipper seldom
returned from a trip to France without bringing his wife a piece of
silk, brocade, or velvet from Lyons; or some little matter from Paris,
such as a ruff, cuff, partlet, bandlet, or fillet. Thus the last French
mode might be seen at the Three Crowns, displayed by the hostess, as
well as the last French _entremet_ at its table; since, among other
important accessories to the well-doing of the house, Madame Bonaventure
kept a _chef de cuisine_--one of her compatriots--of such superlative
skill, that in later times he must infallibly have been distinguished as
a _cordon bleu_.

But not having yet completed our description of the charming Bordelaise
we must add that she possessed a rich southern complexion, fine
sparkling black eyes, shaded by long dark eye-lashes, and over-arched by
jetty brows, and that her raven hair was combed back and gathered in a
large roll over her smooth forehead, which had the five points of beauty
complete. Over this she wore a prettily-conceived coif, with a frontlet.
A well-starched, well-plaited ruff encompossed her throat. Her upper lip
was darkened, but in the slightest degree, by down like the softest
silk; and this peculiarity (a peculiarity it would be in an
Englishwoman, though frequently observable in the beauties of the South
of France) lent additional piquancy and zest to her charms in the eyes
of her numerous adorers. Her ankles we have said were trim; and it may
be added that they were oftener displayed in an embroidered French
velvet shoe than in one of Spanish leather; while in walking out she
increased her stature "by the altitude of a chopine."

Captain Bonaventure was by no means jealous; and even if he had been, it
would have mattered little, since he was so constantly away. Fancying,
therefore, she had some of the privileges of a widow, our lively Dameris
flirted a good deal with the gayest and handsomest of the galliards
frequenting her house. But she knew where to stop; no licence or
indecorum was ever permitted at the Three Cranes; and that is saying a
great deal in favour of the hostess, when the dissolute character of the
age is taken into consideration. Besides this, Cyprien, a stout
well-favoured young Gascon, who filled the posts of drawer and
chamberlain, together with two or three other trencher-scrapers, who
served at table, and waited on the guests, were generally sufficient to
clear the house of any troublesome roysterers. Thus the reputation of
the Three Cranes was unblemished, in spite of the liveliness and
coquetry of its mistress; and in spite, also, of the malicious tongues
of rival tavern-keepers, which were loud against it. A pretty woman is
sure to have enemies and calumniators, and Madame Bonaventure had more
than enow; but she thought very little about them.

There was one point, however, on which it behoved her to be careful: and
extremely careful she was,--not leaving a single loop-hole for censure
or attack. This was the question of religion. On first taking the house,
Madame Bonaventure gave it out that she and the skipper were Huguenots,
descended from families who had suffered much persecution during the
time of the League, for staunch adherence to their faith; and the
statement was generally credited, though there were some who professed
to doubt it. Certain it was, our hostess did not wear any cross, beads,
or other outward symbol of Papacy. And though this might count for
little, it was never discovered that she attended mass in secret. Her
movements were watched, but without anything coming to light that had
reference to religious observances of any kind. Those who tried to trace
her, found that her visits were mostly paid to Paris Garden, the Rose,
and the Globe (where our immortal bard's plays were then being
performed), or some other place of amusement; and if she did go on the
river at times, it was merely upon a party of pleasure, accompanied by
gay gallants in velvet cloaks and silken doublets, and by light-hearted
dames like herself, and not by notorious plotters or sour priests.
Still, as many Bordeaux merchants frequented the house, as well as
traders from the Hanse towns, and other foreigners, it was looked upon
by the suspicious as a hotbed of Romish heresy and treason. Moreover,
these maligners affirmed that English recusants, as well as seminary
priests from abroad, had been harboured there, and clandestinely
spirited away from the pursuit of justice by the skipper; but the
charges were never substantiated, and could, therefore, only proceed
from envy and malice. Whatever Madame Bonaventure's religious opinions
might be, she kept her own council so well that no one ever found them
out.

But evil days were at hand. Hitherto, all had been smiling and
prosperous. The prospect now began to darken.

Within the last twelve months a strange and unlooked for interference
had taken place with our hostess's profits, which she had viewed, at
first, without much anxiety, because she did not clearly comprehend its
scope; but latterly, as its formidable character became revealed, it
began to fill her with uneasiness. The calamity, as she naturally enough
regarded it, arose in the following manner. The present was an age of
monopolies and patents, granted by a crown ever eager to obtain money
under any pretext, however unjustifiable and iniquitous, provided it was
plausibly coloured; and these vexatious privileges were purchased by
greedy and unscrupulous persons for the purpose of turning them into
instruments of extortion and wrong. Though various branches of trade and
industry groaned under the oppression inflicted upon them, there were no
means of redress. The patentees enjoyed perfect immunity, grinding them
down as they pleased, farming out whole districts, and dividing the
spoil. Their miserable victims dared scarcely murmur; having ever the
terrible court of Star-Chamber before them, which their persecutors
could command, and which punished libellers--as they would be accounted,
if they gave utterance to their wrongs, and charged their oppressors
with mis-doing,--with fine, branding, and the pillory. Many were handled
in this sort, and held up _in terrorem_ to the others. Hence it came to
pass, that the Star-Chamber, from the fearful nature of its machinery;
its extraordinary powers; the notorious corruption and venality of its
officers; the peculiarity of its practice, which always favoured the
plaintiff; and the severity with which it punished any libelling or
slanderous words uttered against the king's representative (as the
patentees were considered), or any conspiracy or false accusation
brought against them; it came to pass, we say, that this terrible court
became as much dreaded in Protestant England as the Inquisition in
Catholic Spain. The punishments inflicted by the Star-Chamber were, as
we learn from a legal authority, and a counsel in the court, "fine,
imprisonment, loss of ears, or nailing to the pillory, slitting the
nose, branding the forehead, whipping of late days, wearing of papers in
public places, or any punishment but death." And John Chamberlain, Esq.,
writing to Sir Dudley Carlton, about the same period, observes, that
"The world is now much terrified with the Star-Chamber, there being not
so little an offence against any proclamation, but is liable and subject
to the censure of that court. And for proclamations and patents, they
are become so ordinary that there is no end; every day bringing forth
some new project or other. As, within these two days, here is one come
forth for tobacco, wholly engrossed by Sir Thomas Roe and his partners,
which, if they can keep and maintain against the general clamour, will
be a great commodity; unless, peradventure, indignation, rather than all
other reasons, may bring that filthy weed out of use." [What, would be
the effect of such a patent now-a-days? Would it, at all, restrict the
use of the "filthy weed?"] "In truth," proceeds Chamberlain, "the world
doth even groan under the burthen of these perpetual patents, which are
become so frequent, that whereas at the king's coming in there were
complaints of some eight or nine monopolies then in being, they are now
said to be multiplied to as many scores."

From the foregoing citation, from a private letter of the time, the
state of public feeling may be gathered, and the alarm occasioned in all
classes by these oppressions perfectly understood.

Amongst those who had obtained the largest share of spoil were two
persons destined to occupy a prominent position in our history. They
were Sir Giles Mompesson and Sir Francis Mitchell,--both names held in
general dread and detestation, though no man ventured to speak ill of
them openly, since they were as implacable in their animosities, as
usurious and griping in their demands; and many an ear had been lost,
many a nose slit, many a back scourged at the cart's tail, because the
unfortunate owners had stigmatized them according to their deserts. Thus
they enjoyed a complete immunity of wrong; and, with the terrible court
of Star-Chamber to defend them and to punish their enemies, they set all
opposition at defiance.

Insatiable as unscrupulous, this avaricious pair were ever on the alert
to devise new means of exaction and plunder, and amongst the latest and
most productive of their inventions were three patents, which they had
obtained through the instrumentality of Sir Edward Villiers
(half-brother of the ruling favourite, the Marquess of Buckingham)--and
for due consideration-money, of course,--for the licensing of ale-houses
the inspection of inns and hostelries, and the exclusive manufacture of
gold and silver thread. It is with the two former of these that we have
now to deal; inasmuch as it was their mischievous operation that
affected Madame Bonaventure so prejudicially; and this we shall more
fully explain, as it will serve to show the working of a frightful
system of extortion and injustice happily no longer in existence.

By the sweeping powers conferred upon them by their patents, the whole
of the inns of the metropolis were brought under the control of the two
extortioners, who levied such imposts as they pleased. The withdrawal of
a license, or the total suppression of a tavern, on the plea of its
being a riotous and disorderly house, immediately followed the refusal
of any demand, however excessive; and most persons preferred the remote
possibility of ruin, with the chance of averting it by ready submission,
to the positive certainty of losing both substance and liberty by
resistance.

Fearful was the havoc occasioned by these licensed depredators, yet no
one dared to check them--no one ventured to repine. They had the name of
law to justify their proceedings, and all its authority to uphold them.
Compromises were attempted in some instances, but they were found
unavailing. Easily evaded by persons who never intended to be bound by
them, they only added keenness to the original provocation, without
offering a remedy for it. The two bloodsuckers, it was clear, would not
desist from draining the life-current from the veins of their victims
while a drop remained. And they were well served in their iniquitous
task,--for the plain reason that they paid their agents, well. Partners
they had none; none, at least, who cared to acknowledge themselves as
such. But the subordinate officers of the law (and indeed some high in
office, it was hinted), the sheriff's followers, bailiffs, tipstaves,
and others, were all in their pay; besides a host of myrmidons,--base,
sordid knaves, who scrupled not at false-swearing, cozenage, or any sort
of rascality, even forgery of legal documents, if required.

No wonder poor Madame Bonaventure, finding she had got into the clutches
of these harpies, began to tremble for the result.

CHAPTER II.

Sir Giles Mompesson and his partner.

Madame Bonaventure had already paid considerable sums to the two
extortioners, but she resisted their last application; in consequence of
which she received a monition from Sir Giles Mompesson, to the effect
that, in a month's time, her license would be withdrawn, and her house
shut up, unless, in the interim, she consented to make amends to himself
and his co-patentee, Sir Francis Mitchell, by payment of the sum in
question, together with a further sum, equal to it in amount, by way of
forfeit; thus doubling the original demand.

Our pretty hostess, it would seem, had placed herself in an awkward
predicament by her temerity. Sir Giles was not a man to threaten idly,
as all who had incurred his displeasure experienced to their cost. His
plan was to make himself feared; and he was inexorable, as fate itself,
to a creditor. He ever exacted the full penalty of his bond. In this
instance, according to his own notion, he had acted with great leniency;
and certainly, judged by his customary mode of proceeding in such cases,
he had shown some little indulgence. In this line of conduct he had been
mainly influenced by his partner, who, not being insensible to the
attractions of the fair hostess, hoped to win her favour by a show of
consideration. But though Madame Bonaventure was willing enough, for her
own purposes, to encourage Sir Francis Mitchell's attentions (she
detested him in her secret heart), she by no means relied upon him for
security. A more powerful friend was held in reserve, whom she meant to
produce at the last moment; and, consequently, she was not so ill at
ease as she otherwise would have been, though by no means free from
misgiving.

Sir Giles Mompesson was a terrible enemy, and seldom thwarted in his
purpose. That she knew. But no man was more keenly alive to his own
interest than he; and she persuaded herself he would find it to his
advantage not to molest her: in which case she was safe. Of Sir Francis
Mitchell she had less apprehension; for, though equally mischievous and
malevolent with his partner, he was far feebler of purpose, and for the
most part governed by him. Besides, she felt she had the amorous knight
in her toils, and could easily manage him if he were alone.

So the case stood with respect to our pretty hostess; but, before
proceeding further, it may be well to give a more complete description
of the two birds of prey by whom she was threatened with beak and talon.

The master-spirit of the twain was undoubtedly Sir Giles Mompesson.
Quick in conception of villainy, he was equally daring in execution.
How he had risen to his present bad eminence no one precisely knew;
because, with the craft and subtlety that distinguished him, he laid his
schemes so deeply, and covered his proceedings with so thick a veil,
that they had been rarely detected. Report, however, spoke of him as a
usurer of the vilest kind, who wrung exorbitant interest from needy
borrowers,--who advanced money to expectant heirs, with the intention of
plundering them of their inheritance,--and who resorted to every trick
and malpractice permitted by the law to benefit himself at his
neighbour's expense. These were bad enough, but even graver accusations
were made against him. It was whispered that he had obtained fraudulent
possession of deeds and family papers, which had enabled him to wrest
estates from their rightful owners; and some did not scruple to add to
these charges that he had forged documents to carry out his nefarious
designs. Be this as it may, from comparative poverty he speedily rose to
wealth; and, as his means increased, so his avaricious schemes were
multiplied and extended. His earlier days were passed in complete
obscurity, none but the neediest spendthrift or the most desperate
gambler knowing where he dwelt, and every one who found him out in his
wretched abode near the Marshalsea had reason to regret his visit. Now
he was well enough known by many a courtly prodigal, and his large
mansion near Fleet Bridge (it was said of him that he always chose the
neigbourhood of a prison for his dwelling) was resorted to by the town
gallants whose, necessities or extravagance compelled them to obtain
supplies at exorbitant interest. Lavish in his expenditure on occasions,
Sir Giles was habitually so greedy and penurious, that he begrudged
every tester he expended. He wished to keep up a show of hospitality
without cost, and secretly pleased himself by thinking that he made his
guests pay for his entertainments, and even for his establishment. His
servants complained of being half-starved, though he was constantly at
war with them for their wastefulness and riot. He made, however, a great
display of attendants, inasmuch as he had a whole retinue of myrmidons
at his beck and call; and these, as before observed, were well paid.
They were the crows that followed the vultures, and picked the bones of
the spoil when their ravening masters had been fully glutted.

In the court of Star-Chamber, as already remarked, Sir Giles Mompesson
found an instrument in every way fitted to his purposes; and he worked
it with terrible effect, as will be shown hereafter. With him it was at
once a weapon to destroy, and a shield to protect. This court claimed "a
superlative power not only to take causes from other courts and punish
them there, but also to punish offences secondarily, when other courts
have punished them." Taking advantage of this privilege, when a suit
was commenced against him elsewhere, Sir Giles contrived to remove it to
the Star-Chamber, where, being omnipotent with clerks and counsel, he
was sure of success,--the complaints being so warily contrived, the
examinations so adroitly framed, and the interrogatories so numerous and
perplexing, that the defendant, or delinquent, as he was indifferently
styled, was certain to be baffled and defeated. "The sentences of this
court," it has been said by one intimately acquainted with its practice,
and very favourably inclined to it, "strike to the root of men's
reputations, and many times of their estates;" and, again, it was a rule
with it, that the prosecutor "was ever intended to be favoured." Knowing
this as well as the high legal authority from whom we have quoted, Sir
Giles ever placed himself in the favoured position, and, with the aid of
this iniquitous tribunal, blasted many a fair reputation, and consigned
many a victim of its injustice to the Fleet, there to rot till he paid
him the utmost of his demands, or paid the debt of nature.

In an age less corrupt and venal than that under consideration, such a
career could not have long continued without check. But in the time of
James the First, from the neediness of the monarch himself, and the
rapacity of his minions and courtiers and their satellites,--each
striving to enrich himself, no matter how--a thousand abuses, both of
right and justice, were tolerated or connived at, crime stalking abroad
unpunished. The Star-Chamber itself served the king as, in a less
degree, it served Sir Giles Mompesson, and others of the same stamp, as
a means of increasing his revenue; half the fines mulcted from those who
incurred its censure or its punishments being awarded to the crown. Thus
nice inquiries were rarely made, unless a public example was needed,
when the wrongdoer was compelled to disgorge his plunder. But this was
never done till the pear was fully ripe. Sir Giles, however, had no
apprehensions of any such result in his case. Like a sly fox, or rather
like a crafty wolf, he was too confident in his own cunning and
resources to fear being caught in such a trap.

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