The Star Chamber, Volume 1 by W. Harrison Ainsworth

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"I do not understand you, my lord," Sir Giles returned, gravely. "I
discern nothing comic in the matter; though much of serious import."

"You do not perceive the comedy, because it has been part of our scheme
to keep you in the dark, Sir Giles."

"So there is a scheme, then, a-foot here, my lord?--ha!"

"A little merry plot; nothing more, Sir Giles--in the working of which
your worthy co-patentee, Sir Francis Mitchell, has materially assisted."

"Ha!" exclaimed Sir Giles, glancing at his partner, who still occupied
his elevated position upon the table--"I presume, then, I have to thank
you, my lord, for the indignity offered to my friend?"

"As you please, Sir Giles," Lord Roos returned carelessly. "You call it
an indignity; but in my opinion the best thing to be done with a man
whose head so swims with wine that his legs refuse to support him, is to
tie him in a chair. He may else sacrifice his dignity by rolling under
the table. But let this pass for the nonce. Before Sir Francis was
wholly overcome, he was good enough to give me his signature. You saw
him do it, gentlemen?" he added, appealing to the company.

"Yes--yes!--we saw him write it!" was the general reply.

"And to what end was this done, my lord?" Sir Giles demanded, sternly.

"To enable me," replied the imperturbable young nobleman, "to draw out a
receipt in full of your joint claims against Madame Bonaventure. I have
done it, Sir Giles; and here it is. And I have taken care to grant a
renewal of her licence from the date of your notice; so that no
penalties or fines can attach to her for neglect. Take it, Madame
Bonaventure" he continued, handing her the paper. "It is your full
acquittance."

"And think you, my lord, that this shallow artifice--to give it no
harsher term--will avail you any thing?" Sir Giles cried scornfully. "I
set it aside at once."

"Your pardon, Sir Giles; you will do no such thing."

"And who will hinder me?--You, my lord?"

"Even I, Sir Giles. Proceed at your peril."

The young nobleman's assurance staggered his opponent.

"He must have some one to uphold him, or he would not be thus
confident," he thought. "Whose was the voice I heard? It sounded
like--No matter! 'Tis needful to be cautious."

"You do not, then, hold yourself bound by the acts of your partner, Sir
Giles?" Lord Roos said.

"I deny this to be his act," the knight replied.

"Better question him at once on the subject," Lord Roos said. "Set him
free, Cyprien."

The Gascon did as he was bidden, and with the aid of his fellow drawers,
helped Sir Francis from the table. To the surprise of the company, the
knight then managed to stagger forward unassisted, and would have
embraced Sir Giles, if the latter had not thrust him off in disgust,
with some violence.

"What folly is this, Sir Francis?" Sir Giles cried angrily. "You have
forgotten yourself strangely, you have taken leave of your senses,
methinks!"

"Not a whit of it, Sir Giles--not a whit. I never was more my own master
than I am at present, as I will prove to you."

"Prove it, then, by explaining how you came to sign that paper. You
could not mean to run counter to me?"

"But I did," Sir Francis rejoined, highly offended. "I meant to run
counter to you in signing it, and I mean it now."

"'Sdeath! you besotted fool, you are playing into their hands!"

"Besotted fool in your teeth, Sir Giles. I am as sober as yourself. My
hand has been put to that paper, and what it contains I stand by."

"You design, then, to acquit Madame Bonaventure? Consider what you say?"

"No need for consideration; I have always designed it."

"Ten thousand thanks, Sir Francis!" the hostess cried. "I knew I had an
excellent friend in you."

The enamoured knight seized the hand she extended towards him, but in
the attempt to kiss it fell to the ground, amid the laughter of the
company.

"Are you satisfied now, Sir Giles?" asked Lord Roos.

"I am satisfied that Sir Francis has been duped," he replied, "and that
when his brain is free from the fumes of wine, he will bitterly regret
his folly. But even his discharge will be insufficient. Though it may
bind me, it will not bind the Crown, which will yet enforce its claims."

"That, Sir Giles, I leave competent authority to decide," Lord Roos
replied, retiring.

And as he withdrew, the curtains before the upper table were entirely
withdrawn, disclosing the whole of the brilliant assemblage, and at the
head of them one person far more brilliant and distinguished than the
rest.

"Buckingham!" Sir Giles exclaimed. "I thought I knew the voice."

It was, indeed, the King's omnipotent favourite. Magnificently attired,
the Marquis of Buckingham as far outshone his companions in splendour of
habiliments as he did in stateliness of carriage and beauty of person.
Rising from the table, and donning his plumed hat, looped with diamonds,
with a gesture worthy of a monarch, while all the rest remained
uncovered, as if in recognition of his superior dignity, he descended to
where Sir Giles Mompesson was standing. It need scarcely be said that
Jocelyn Mounchensey had never seen the superb favourite before; but he
did not require to be told whom he beheld, so perfectly did Buckingham
realize the descriptions given of him. A little above the ordinary
height, with a figure of the most perfect symmetry, and features as
aristocratic and haughty as handsome, it was impossible to conceive a
prouder or a nobler-looking personage than the marquis. His costume was
splendid, consisting of a doublet of white cut velvet, roped with
pearls, which fitted him to admiration. Over his shoulders he wore a
mantle of watchet-coloured velvet; his neck was encircled by a falling
band; and silken hose of the same colour as the doublet completed his
costume. His deportment was singularly dignified; but his manner might
have conciliated more if it had been less imperious and disdainful.

Sir Giles made a profound obeisance as Buckingham advanced towards him.
His salutation was haughtily returned.

"I have heard something of your mode of proceeding with the keepers of
taverns and hostels, Sir Giles," the proud marquis said; "but this is
the first occasion on which I have seen it put in practice,--and I am
free to confess that you deal not over gently with them, if the present
may be considered a specimen of your ordinary conduct. Those
letters-patent were not confided to you by his Majesty to distress his
subjects, for your own particular advantage and profit, but to benefit
the community by keeping such places of entertainment in better order
than heretofore. I fear you have somewhat abused your warrant, Sir
Giles."

"If to devote myself, heart and soul, to his Majesty's service, and to
enrich his Majesty's exchequer be to abuse my warrant, I have done so,
my lord Marquis,--but not otherwise. I have ever vindicated the dignity
and authority of the Crown. You have just heard that, though my own just
claims have been defeated by the inadvertence of my co-patentee, I have
advanced those of the King."

"The King relinquishes all claims in the present case," Buckingham
replied. "His gracious Majesty gave me full discretion in the matter,
and I act as I know he himself would have acted."

And waving his hand to signify that he would listen to no remonstrances,
the Marquis turned to Madame Bonaventure, who instantly prostrated
herself before him, as she would have done before royalty itself, warmly
thanking him for his protection.

"You must thank my Lord Roos, and not me, Madame," Buckingham graciously
replied, raising her as he spoke. "It was at his lordship's instance I
came here. He takes a warm interest in you, Madame."

"I shall ever be beholden to his lordship, I am sure," Madame
Bonaventure said, casting down her eyes and blushing, or feigning to
blush, "as well as to you, Monseigneur."

"My Lord Roos avouched," pursued Buckingham, "that at the Three Cranes I
should find the prettiest hostess and the best wine in London; and on my
faith as a gentleman! I must say he was wrong in neither particular.
Brighter eyes I have never beheld--rarer claret I have never drunk."

"Oh, Monseigneur! you quite overwhelm me. My poor house can scarcely
hope to be honoured a second time with such a presence; but should it so
chance"--

"You will give me as good welcome as you have done to-day. No lack of
inducement to repeat the visit. Sir Giles Mompesson!"

"My lord Marquis."

"I lay my commands upon you, good Sir Giles, that no further molestation
be offered to Madame Bonaventure, but that you give a good report of her
house. Withdraw your followers without delay."

"Your commands shall be obeyed, my lord Marquis," Sir Giles rejoined;
"but before I go I have an arrest to make. That young man," pointing to
Jocelyn, "has been talking treason."

"It is false, my lord Marquis," Jocelyn replied. "His Majesty hath not a
more loyal subject than myself. I would cut out my tongue rather than
speak against him. I have said the King is ill served in such officers
as Giles Mompesson and Sir Francis Mitchell, and I abide by my words.
They can reflect no dishonour on his Majesty."

"Save that they seem to imply a belief on your part that his Majesty has
chosen his officers badly," Buckingham said, regarding the young man
fixedly.

"Not so, my lord Marquis, These men may have been favourably represented
to his Majesty, who no doubt has been kept in ignorance of their
iniquitous proceedings."

"What are you driving at, Sir?" Buckingham cried, almost fiercely.

"I mean, my lord Marquis, that these persons may be the creatures of
some powerful noble, whose interest it is to throw a cloak over their
malpractices."

"'Fore heaven! some covert insult would seem to be intended," exclaimed
Buckingham. "Who is this young man, Sir Giles?"

"He is named Jocelyn Mounchensey, my lord Marquis; and is the son of an
old Norfolk knight baronet, who, you may remember, was arraigned before
the Court of Star-Chamber, heavily fined, and imprisoned."

"I do remember the case, and the share you and Sir Francis had in it,
Sir Giles," Buckingham rejoined.

"I am right glad to hear that, my lord," said Jocelyn. "You will not
then wonder that I avow myself their mortal enemy."

"We laugh to scorn these idle vapourings," said Sir Giles; "and were it
permitted," he added, touching his sword, "I myself would find an easy
way to silence them. But the froward youth, whose brains seem crazed
with his fancied wrongs, is not content with railing against us, but
must needs lift up his voice against all constituted authority. He hath
spoken contemptuously of the Star-Chamber,--and that, my lord Marquis,
as you well know, is an offence, which cannot be passed over."

"I am sorry for it," Buckingham rejoined; "but if he will retract what
he has said, and express compunction, with promise of amendment in
future, I will exert my influence to have him held harmless."

"I will never retract what I have said against that iniquitous
tribunal," Jocelyn rejoined firmly. "I will rather die a martyr, as my
father did, in the cause of truth."

"Your kindness is altogether thrown away upon him, my lord," Sir Giles
said, with secret satisfaction.

"So I perceive," Buckingham rejoined. "Our business is over," he added,
to the nobles and gallants around him; "so we may to our barges. You, my
lord," he added to Lord Roos, "will doubtless tarry to receive the
thanks of our pretty hostess."

And graciously saluting Madame Bonaventure, he quitted the tavern
accompanied by a large train, and entering his barge amid the
acclamations of the spectators, was rowed towards Whitehall.

CHAPTER X.

The 'prentices and their leader.

While the Marquis of Buckingham and his suite were moving towards the
wharf, amid the acclamations of the crowd (for in the early part of his
brilliant career the haughty favourite was extremely popular with the
multitude, probably owing to the princely largesses he was in the habit
of distributing among them), a very different reception awaited those
who succeeded him. The hurrahs and other vociferations of delight and
enthusiasm were changed into groans, hootings, and discordant yells,
when Sir Francis Mitchell came in sight, supported between two stout
myrmidons, and scarcely able to maintain his perpendicular as he was
borne by them towards the wherry in waiting for him near the stairs.
Though the knight was escorted by Captain Bludder and his Alsatian
bullies, several of the crowd did not seem disposed to confine
themselves to jeers and derisive shouts, but menaced him with some rough
usage. Planting themselves in his path, they shook their fists in his
face, with other gestures of defiance and indignity, and could only be
removed by force. Captain Bludder and his roaring blades assumed their
fiercest looks, swore their loudest oaths, twisted their shaggy
moustaches, and tapped their rapier-hilts; but they prudently forbore to
draw their weapons, well knowing that the proceeding would be a signal
for a brawl, and that the cry of "Clubs!" would be instantly raised.

Amongst the foremost of those who thus obstructed Sir Francis and his
party was a young man with a lithe active figure, bright black eyes,
full of liveliness and malice, an olive complexion, and a gipsy-like
cast of countenance. Attired in a tight-fitting brown frieze jerkin with
stone buttons, and purple hose, his head was covered with a montero cap,
with a cock's feather stuck in it. He was armed neither with sword nor
dagger, but carried a large cudgel or club, the well-known and
formidable weapon, of the London 'prentices, in the use of which,
whether as a quarterstaff or missile, they were remarkably expert. Even
a skilful swordsman stood but poor chance with them. Besides this
saucy-looking personage, who was addressed as Dick Taverner by his
comrades, there were many others, who, to judge from their habiliments
and their cudgels, belonged to the same fraternity as himself; that is
to say, they were apprentices to grocers, drapers, haberdashers,
skinners, ironmongers, vintners, or other respectable artificers or
tradesfolk.

Now Dick Taverner had an especial grudge against our two extortioners,
for though he himself, being 'prentice to a bookseller in Paul's
Churchyard, had little concern with them, he was the son of an
inn-keeper--Simon Taverner, of the Emperor's Head, Garlick Hill--who had
been recently mined by their exactions, his licence taken from him, and
his house closed: enough to provoke a less mettlesome spark than Dick,
who had vowed to revenge the parental injuries on the first opportunity.
The occasion now seemed to present itself, and it was not to be lost.
Chancing to be playing at bowls in the alley behind the Three Cranes
with some of his comrades on the day in question, Dick learnt from
Cyprien what was going forward, and the party resolved to have their
share in the sport. If needful, they promised the drawer to rescue his
mistress from the clutches of her antagonists, and to drive them from
the premises. But their services in this respect were not required. They
next decided on giving Sir Francis Mitchell a sound ducking in the
Thames.

Their measures were quickly and warily taken. Issuing from an arched
doorway at the side of the tavern, they stationed some of their number
near it, while the main party posted themselves at the principal
entrance in front. Scouts were planted inside, to communicate with
Cyprien, and messengers were despatched to cry "Clubs!" and summon the
neighbouring 'prentices from Queenhithe, Thames Street, Trinity Lane,
Old Fish Street, and Dowgate Hill; so that fresh auxiliaries were
constantly arriving. Buckingham, with the young nobles and gallants,
were, of course, allowed to pass free, and were loudly cheered; but the
'prentices soon ascertained from their scouts that Sir Francis was
coming forth, and made ready for him.

Utterly unconscious of his danger, the inebriate knight replied to the
gibes, scoffs, and menaces addressed to him, by snapping his fingers in
his opponents' faces, and irritating them in their turn; but if he was
insensible of the risk he ran, those around him were not, and his two
supporters endeavoured to hurry him forward. Violently resisting their
efforts, he tried to shake them off, and more than once stood
stock-still, until compelled to go on. Arrived at the stairhead, he next
refused to embark, and a scene of violent altercation ensued between him
and his attendants. Many boats were moored off the shore, with a couple
of barges close at hand; and the watermen and oarsmen standing up in
their craft, listened to what was going forward with much apparent
amusement.

Hastily descending the steps, Captain Bludder placed himself near the
wherry intended for the knight, and called to the others to make short
work of it and bring him down. At this juncture the word was given by
Dick Taverner, who acted as leader, and in less than two minutes, Sir
Francis was transferred from the hands of his myrmidons to those of the
'prentices. To accomplish this, a vigorous application of cudgels was
required, and some broken pates were the consequence of resistance; but
the attack was perfectly successful; the myrmidons and Alsatians were
routed, and the 'prentices remained masters of the field, and captors of
a prisoner. Stupefied with rage and astonishment, Captain Bludder looked
on; at one moment thinking of drawing his sword, and joining the fray;
but the next, perceiving that his men were evidently worsted, he decided
upon making off; and with this view he was about to jump into the
wherry, when his purpose was prevented by Dick Taverner, and a few
others of the most active of his companions, who dashed down the steps
to where he stood. The captain had already got one foot in the wherry,
and the watermen, equally alarmed with himself, were trying to push off,
when the invaders came up, and, springing into the boat, took possession
of the oars, sending Bludder floundering into the Thames, where he sunk
up to the shoulders, and stuck fast in the mud, roaring piteously for
help.

Scarcely were the 'prentices seated, than Sir Francis Mitchell was
brought down to them, and the poor knight, beginning to comprehend the
jeopardy in which he was placed, roared for help as lustily as the
half-drowned Alsatian captain, and quite as ineffectually. The latter
was left to shift for himself, but the former was rowed out some twenty
or thirty yards from the shore, where, a stout cord being fastened to
his girdle, he was plunged head-foremost into the river; and after
being thrice drawn up, and as often submerged again, he was dragged on
board, and left to shiver and shake in his dripping habiliments in the
stern of the boat. The bath had completely sobered him, and he bitterly
bemoaned himself, declaring that if he did not catch his death of cold
he should be plagued with cramps and rheumatism during the rest of his
days. He did not dare to utter any threats against his persecutors, but
he internally vowed to be revenged upon them--cost what it might. The
'prentices laughed at his complaints, and Dick Taverner told him--"that
as he liked not cold water, he should have spared them their ale and
wine; but, as he had meddled with their liquors, and with those who sold
them, they had given him a taste of a different beverage, which they
should provide, free of cost, for all those who interfered with their
enjoyments, and the rights of the public." Dick added, "that his last
sousing was in requital for the stoppage of the Emperor's Head, and
that, with his own free will, he would have left him under the water,
with a stone round his neck."

This measure of retributive justice accomplished, the 'prentices and
their leader made for the stairs, where they landed, after telling the
watermen to row their fare to the point nearest his lodgings; an order
which was seconded by Sir Francis himself, who was apprehensive of
further outrage. Neither would he tarry to take in Captain Bludder,
though earnestly implored to do so by that personage, who, having in his
struggles sunk deeper into the oozy bed, could now only just keep his
bearded chin and mouth above the level of the tide. Taking compassion
upon him, Dick Taverner threw him an oar, and, instantly grasping it,
the Alsatian was in this way dragged ashore; presenting a very woful
spectacle, his nether limbs being covered with slime, while the moisture
poured from his garments, as it would from the coat of a water-spaniel.
His hat had floated down the stream, and he had left one boot sticking
in the mud, while his buff jerkin, saturated with wet, clung to his skin
like a damp glove.

Leaving him to wring his cloak and dry his habiliments in the best way
he could, the leader of the 'prentices collected together his forces,
and, disposing them in something like military array, placed himself at
their head, and marched towards the tavern, where they set up a great
shout. Hitherto they had met with no interruption whatever. On the
contrary, the watermen, bargemen, and others, had cheered them on in
their work of mischief; and the crowd on shore appeared rather friendly
to them than otherwise. Flushed with success, the riotous youths seemed
well disposed to carry their work of retribution to extremities, and to
inflict some punishment upon Sir Giles proportionate to his enormities.
Having ascertained, from their scouts, that no one connected with the
usurious knight had come forth, they felt quite secure of their prey,
and were organising a plan of attack, when intelligence was brought by a
scout that a great disturbance was going on inside, in consequence of a
young gentleman having been arrested by Sir Giles and his crew, and that
their presence was instantly required by Madame Bonaventure.

On hearing this, Dick Taverner shouted--"To the rescue! to the rescue!"
and rushed into the house, followed by the 'prentices, who loudly echoed
his cries.

"_Par ici, Messieurs! Par ici!_--this way, this way!" vociferated
Cyprien, who met them in the passage--"the bowling-alley--there they
are!"

But the Gascon's directions were scarcely needed. The clashing of swords
would have served to guide the 'prentices to the scene of conflict.

CHAPTER XI.

John Wolfe.

When Jocelyn Mounchensey called for his reckoning, Madame Bonaventure
took him aside, showing, by her looks, that she had something important
to communicate to him, and began by telling him he was heartily welcome
to all he had partaken of at her ordinary, adding that she considered
herself very greatly his debtor for the gallantry and zeal he had
displayed in her behalf.

"Not that I was in any real peril, my fair young Sir," she continued,
"though I feigned to be so, for I have powerful protectors, as you
perceive; and indeed this was all a preconcerted scheme between my Lord
Roos and his noble friends to turn the tables on the two extortioners.
But that does not lessen my gratitude to you; and I shall try to prove
it. You are in more danger than, perchance, you wot of; and I feel quite
sure Sir Giles means to carry his threat into execution, and to cause
your arrest."

Seeing him smile disdainfully, as if he had no apprehensions, she added,
somewhat quickly--"What will your bravery avail against so many, _mon
beau gentilhomme? Mon Dieu_! nothing. No! no! I must get you
assistance. Luckily I have some friends at hand, the 'prentices--_grands
et forts gaillards, avec des estocs;_--Cyprien has told me they are
here. Most certainly they will take your part. So, Sir Giles shall not
carry you off, after all."

Jocelyn's lips again curled with the same disdainful smile as before.

"_Ah I vous etes trop temeraire!"_ Madame Bonaventure cried, tapping his
arm. "Sit down here for awhile. I will give you the signal when you may
depart with safety. Do not attempt to stir till then. You understand?"

Jocelyn did not understand very clearly; but without making any
observation to the contrary, he took the seat pointed out to him. The
position was well-chosen, inasmuch as it enabled him to command the
movements of the foe, and offered him a retreat through a side-door,
close at hand; though he was naturally quite ignorant whither the outlet
might conduct him.

While this was passing, Sir Giles was engaged in giving directions
respecting his partner, whose inebriate condition greatly scandalized
him; and it was in pursuance of his orders that Sir Francis was
transported to the wharf where the misadventure before related befel
him. Never for a moment did Sir Giles' watchful eye quit Jocelyn, upon
whom he was ready to pounce like a tiger, if the young man made any
movement to depart; and he only waited till the tavern should be clear
of company to effect the seizure.

Meanwhile another person approached the young man. This was the friendly
stranger in the furred gown and flat cap, who had sat next him at
dinner, and who, it appeared, was not willing to abandon him in his
difficulties. Addressing him with much kindness, the worthy personage
informed him that he was a bookseller, named John Wolfe, and carried on
business at the sign of the Bible and Crown in Paul's Churchyard, where
he should be glad to see the young man, whenever he was free to call
upon him.

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