The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “What more false accusations have you to bring against me?” demanded Sir Giles, folding his arms upon his breast, and fixing his keen gaze upon Lanyere.

  “His Highness shall hear,” replied the promoter. “I have a multitude of cases which I could adduce in support of my charges — all of which will be mentioned in due season — but I shall now content myself with one, and from it the nature of the rest may be inferred. But let me premise that, in the greater part of these cases, and in all the more important of them, where grievous and irreparable wrong has been committed, the engine employed by these crafty and dangerous men has been the Star-Chamber.”

  “The Star-Chamber!” exclaimed Charles, bending his brows.

  “Your Highness will now perceive the drift of this cunning knave’s argument,” said Sir Giles. “Through me and my partner, all whose actions will bear the strictest scrutiny, he would covertly attack that high and honourable Court, whose dignity we have ever been most zealous to maintain; and his motive for doing so is because he has incurred its censure. When I have heard his precise charges, I will reply to them — ay, one by one — if he will bring forward the multitude of cases he affirms he can produce against me. But meanwhile I can fearlessly declare my innocence of the wrong imputed to me. If I have been to blame in those monopolies, I am not the only one in fault, as time will show. Nay, there are greater culprits than I” — looking hard at Buckingham, who regarded him disdainfully— “but I deny that I have done more than I can fully justify. As regards other matters, and the way in which my wealth has been acquired, I have acted only with caution, prudence, and foresight. Is it my fault that there are so many persons who, from various causes, will have money, no matter what they pay for it? If they apply to me under such circumstances, and ruin ensues to them, am I to blame? I lend monies as a usurer — all men know it. ’Tis my vocation, and that of my partner; and my answer is his answer. We have done nothing beyond the law; and the law, which has hitherto supported us, will support us still. To affirm that we have employed the highest court of the kingdom as an instrument of oppression and extortion is an assertion too monstrous to obtain a moment’s credit. The Star-Chamber is too jealous of its honour not to resent the imputation; and such a charge will not escape its censure.”

  “Nevertheless, at whatever risk, I repeat the accusation,” rejoined Lanyere; “and my words will not be forgotten by his Highness, and by all others who hear them. I assert that Sir Giles Mompesson has subtly and designedly perverted the practice of that high and honourable Court, causing it to aid his schemes of rapacity and injustice, and using it as a means of stifling the cries of his victims, and working out his purposes of vengeance. Hitherto, he has succeeded in masking his designs with so much skill that they have escaped detection; but when the mischief he has done under the mask of justice, and the wrongs and cruelties he has perpetrated in the name of the law shall be fully made known, no punishment will be deemed commensurate to his crimes. It is chiefly he and his partner who, by their evil doings, have brought the Star-Chamber into disrepute, and made it a terror to all just men, who have dreaded being caught within the toils woven around it by these infamous wretches; and the Court will do well to purge itself of such villanies, and make a terrible example of those who have so dishonoured it.”

  “The Star-Chamber will never desert its faithful servants, and such we have been,” said Sir Giles.

  “Say rather the serpents it has nourished in its bosom,” rejoined Lanyere. “But to my case. Years ago, a gentleman possessed of noble estates in Norfolk, was unfortunate enough to have some dealings with these two usurers, who thus becoming acquainted with his circumstances, marked him for their prey. He borrowed a large sum of money from them. The loan was not obtained for himself, but for a younger brother” — here the voice of the promoter was choked with emotion, and a few moments elapsed before he could proceed— “I have said that the money was borrowed, not for himself, but for a younger brother, whose recklessness and extravagance had plunged him deeply in debt. Would that his too generous relative had left him to his fate, and allowed him to rot in a dungeon! But he rescued him from it, only to take his place in the end. From this sad epoch may all the unfortunate gentleman’s calamities be dated. Certain title-deeds and other instruments had to be deposited with Sir Giles and his partner, as security for repayment of the sum borrowed. They were never returned. On the contrary, under one plea or another, all the deeds relating to the property were obtained from its unsuspecting owner; and then a mortgage deed covering the whole estates was forged by them.”

  “’Tis false!” exclaimed Sir Giles.

  “Have I your Highness’s gracious promise of pardon to all except the principals in these great offences?” pursued Lanyere.

  “As it may materially serve the ends of justice that such promise should be given, I do not hesitate to comply with your request,” replied Charles.

  “In that case I shall be able to confound the villains with a witness whom they little expect to be produced against them,” replied Lanyere. “Let Lupo Vulp be called,” he added.

  The summons was responded to as before by Luke Hatton, and the next moment the ill-favoured scrivener emerged from behind the tapestry, and made his way through the assemblage, who recoiled with abhorrence from him, towards the Prince.

  “Who art thou?” demanded Charles.

  “I am named Lupo Vulp, your Highness, and have for many years been a money-scrivener in the employ of these two gentlemen,” replied the individual addressed.

  “Thou knowest all their transactions?” said Charles.

  “No man better,” answered Lupo; “unless it be Clement Lanyere.”

  “You remember a certain deed of mortgage from Sir Ferdinando Mounchensey to your two employers?” said Lanyere.

  “I remember it perfectly,” returned the scrivener, “as I should do, seeing I prepared it myself.”

  During all this time Lupo Vulp had kept his eyes upon the ground, and had never dared to raise them towards Sir Giles, though he felt that the gaze of the latter was fixed upon him.

  “Was Sir Ferdinando’s signature attached to that deed?” demanded Lanyere.

  “Look at me, Lupo, ere thou answerest,” cried Sir Giles. “Look at me well — and take heed what thou say’st.”

  “Be not influenced by him,” interposed Charles. “Look only at me, and speak truly, as thou valuest thy safety. If thou hidest aught, or falsifiest aught, the heaviest punishment awaits thee!”

  “Hark ye, Lupo,” said Sir Giles, in a low tone. “Be warned by me. Utter a word to my detriment, and as surely as thou art suborned to injure me, I will hang thee. I can do so, as thou knowest!”

  “Fear him not, Lupo,” said Lanyere. “Thou hast his Highness’s gracious promise of pardon.”

  “If my life be but spared, most gracious Prince,” said the scrivener, falling on his knees, and clasping his hands together in supplication, “I will reveal all I know touching the malpractices of these two persons.”

  “Speak, then, without fear,” said Charles.

  “I repeat my question,” said Lanyere, “and demand an explicit answer to it. What was the nature of that deed?”

  “It was a forgery,” replied the scrivener. “Sir Ferdinando Mounchensey had nothing whatever to do with it. His signature was imitated from other deeds in the possession of my employers, and his seal was likewise fabricated.”

  “What say you to this, Sir?” said Charles, to Sir Giles.

  “I deny it, as I do all the rest,” he replied. “’Tis a foul conspiracy against me, as will appear in the end.”

  “This is only one amongst many such frauds committed by them, your Highness,” said the scrivener. “Since I have your gracious promise of pardon, I will make a clean breast of it, and reveal all I know. Many and many a fair estate has been wrongfully wrested from its owner in this way — by forged deed or will. I will name all the parties to your Highness.”

  “Hereafter, I will lis
ten to thee,” rejoined Charles, motioning him to rise; “but I shall now confine myself to the case immediately before me. Proceed, Sir,” he added, to Lanyere.

  “I have come to the saddest and darkest part of all,” said the promoter. “Your Highness has seen that a deed was forged to obtain possession of the Mounchensey estates — and the fraudulent design was only too successful. It was in vain Sir Ferdinando denied all knowledge of the instrument — in vain he refused payment of the large sum demanded — his estates were seized by the extortioners — and he was deprived of the power of redemption. He commenced a suit against them in the Star-Chamber, but here again he was baffled by the cunning and knavery of Sir Giles, and having unwittingly incurred the censure of the Court, he was cast into the Fleet Prison, where he perished miserably.”

  “A lamentable history,” exclaimed Charles. “It is grievous to think that justice cannot be done him.”

  “Justice may he done his son,” said Buckingham, “who has been oppressed in like manner with his father. Restitution may be made him of the estates of which he has been plundered.”

  “It is well,” said Sir Giles, glancing at Lanyere. “You will not enjoy them.”

  “What means he?” inquired Charles.

  “The estates were assigned to this treacherous knave, your Highness,” said Sir Giles, pointing to Lanyere, “for a certain consideration, which was never performed. But, while denying, as I do most energetically, that any underhand means whatever were used by us to obtain possession of those estates, and repeating my declaration that a most artful conspiracy has been formed against us, I assert, as will appear on investigation, that if I fail in sustaining my claim to the Mounchensey estates, they cannot go to Sir Jocelyn.”

  “Wherefore not?” inquired Charles.

  “Because Sir Ferdinando left them to his brother Osmond. I have possession of his will.”

  “It may be a forgery,” said Charles.

  “Not so, your Highness,” observed Lupo Vulp. “This statement is correct.”

  “I have it with me now,” cried Sir Giles, producing a document. “Will it please your Highness to look at it?” he added, handing it to the Prince. “You will see that the estates are wholly left to Osmond Mounchensey. If, therefore, your Highness should seek to deprive me of them, you must bestow them as they are herein bequeathed.”

  “Undoubtedly, if this instrument be valid,” said Charles, looking at Lanyere.

  “I do not dispute it, your Highness,” said the promoter.

  “But there is no proof that Osmond Mounchensey is living, your Highness,” observed Lupo Vulp. “He has not been heard of for many years — not, indeed, since the time when his debts were paid by Sir Ferdinando. Though Sir Giles has used every exertion for the purpose, he has never been able to discover any traces of him — and it is reasonable, therefore, to suppose that he is no more.”

  “That is false,” cried Sir Giles. “It is true I have long sought for him in vain — but within these few days I have obtained some tidings of him, which, if followed up, will assuredly lead to his detection. Nay more, Lanyere himself must know that he is alive, since, from the intelligence I have received, he must have been recently in company with him.”

  “Is this assertion correct?” said Charles, to the promoter.

  “It is, your Highness,” replied Lanyere; “but I had good reasons for concealing the circumstances.”

  “Undoubtedly,” cried Sir Giles; “because you had ascertained from the traitor Lupo that this will existed, and feared a claim might be advanced to the estates — but they will never be yours, or Sir Jocelyn’s. If not mine, they are Osmond Mounchensey’s.”

  “He says right,” remarked Charles.

  “Then learn to your confusion, villain, that Osmond Mounchensey stands before you!” cried the promoter, addressing Sir Giles. “Behold him in me!”

  “You Osmond Mounchensey!” exclaimed Sir Giles; eyeing him with an astonishment which was shared by Sir Francis and by the greater part of the spectators. To judge from their manner, however, Prince Charles, together with Buckingham and De Gondomar, did not seem unprepared for the announcement.

  “Ay,” rejoined Osmond to Sir Giles. “Look on me if you can. Never should my name have been revealed to you, except at a moment when there should have been no chance of its repetition, on your part, but for my brother’s will, of the existence of which I have only been lately aware, and which has obliged me to avow myself. But for this, I would have remained for ever in obscurity, and have perished as I have lived — the despised Clement Lanyere. The name of Mounchensey should not have been shamed in me. But if I am the reproach of that ancient and honourable house — untarnished by any other member of it — I am also its avenger, and will wipe out effectually the stains you have cast upon it. By your machinations, villain, was my brother destroyed — by your machinations has his son been imprisoned, and his life endangered — by your machinations I myself was censured by the terrible Star-Chamber, and its severest punishments inflicted upon me. You knew not whom you tortured; and had you been aware of my real name, even this wrong might not have contented you. But no matter. From the hour when the tormentor, by your order, did his work upon me, I devoted myself to vengeance — slow, sure vengeance. I resolved not to interfere with your career of villany till you were full-blown in crime; and though I have had some difficulty in holding back my hand, I have been patient. The hour at length has arrived, and I hold you firmly in my grasp. I have crushed in pieces the whole of the fabric you have been at such pains to rear. Your estates and all your possessions will be forfeited to the Crown; and, if you escape with life, you will bear the indelible marks of disgrace which you have inflicted upon me!”

  Overpowered by what he heard, Sir Giles threw himself at the feet of Charles.

  “Do not sue to me, Sir,” replied the Prince, regarding him with stern displeasure. “Enough for you to know that I have been in this much-injured gentleman’s secret. Let your nephew now be introduced, Sir,” he added, to Osmond Mounchensey.

  “His nephew!” muttered Sir Giles, as he arose. “Nay, then, all is indeed lost!”

  “I have felt that for a long time,” groaned Sir Francis.

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  Judgment.

  On the intimation of the Prince’s wishes, the tapestry was again raised to admit Sir Jocelyn Mounchensey, who, stepping forward, made a profound reverence to the Prince.

  “I greet you well, Sir Jocelyn,” said Charles, in the kindest and most gracious tone, as the young knight advanced towards him. “As your disgrace was public, so shall your restoration to the King’s favour be likewise public. Your return to Court will be a satisfaction to his Majesty. Any imprudence of which you have been guilty will be entirely overlooked. All graver faults imputed to you have been explained — so that no unfavourable impressions against you remain upon my royal father’s mind — or on mine. Let me assure you that you have now no more zealous friends than the Conde de Gondomar and the Marquis of Buckingham.”

  “For any wrong I may have done Sir Jocelyn I am heartily sorry,” said Buckingham, frankly. “And he may rely on my present oiler of friendship.”

  “And on mine, too,” subjoined De Gondomar. “The services I have rendered him must be set against any mischief I have subsequently done.”

  “You make me more than amends,” said Sir Jocelyn, bowing to them, “and I at once accept your proffered friendship.”

  “You are in the midst of friends and foes, Sir Jocelyn,” said Prince Charles, “and have before you a new-found relative; and not far distant from you one, whom — unless I am greatly mistaken — has the strongest hold upon your affections; but before you turn to her, or to any one, listen to the sentence, which in the King’s name I shall pronounce upon those two offenders — a sentence which most assuredly will be ratified by his Majesty in person, and by the Lords of the Council of the Star-Chamber, before whom they will be brought. Hear me, then, ye wrong-doers. Ye shall be despoile
d of your unjustly-acquired possessions, which will be escheated to the Crown. Where restitution is possible, it shall be made.”

  “Restitution by the Crown! — a likely thing!” muttered Sir Giles.

  “Moreover, ye shall pay for your misdeeds in person,” pursued Charles. “Degraded from the knighthood ye have dishonoured, and with all the ceremonies of debasement, when ye have become Giles Mompesson and Francis Mitchell, knaves, ye shall undergo precisely the same ignominious punishment, with all its dreadful details, which ye caused to be inflicted upon him you supposed to be Clement Lanyere. This being done to you, and no part of the torture being on any plea omitted, ye shall be brought back to the Fleet Prison, and be there incarcerated for the residue of your lives.”

  Mompesson heard this sentence apparently unmoved, though his flashing eye betrayed, in some degree, his secret emotion. Not so his partner. Flinging himself on his knees before the Prince, he cried in piteous tones— “I confess my manifold offences, and own that my sentence is lenient in comparison with them. But I beseech your Highness to spare me the mutilation and branding. All else I will patiently endure.”

  “He merits no compassion,” said Buckingham, “and yet I would intercede for him.”

  “And your intercession shall avail to the extent which he himself hath mentioned — but no further,” rejoined Charles.

  “I solicit nothing — and I confess nothing,” said Mompesson, in a tone of defiance. “If I am ever brought to trial I shall know how to defend myself. But I well know that will never be. I can make such revelations concerning those in high places — ay, in the highest places,” he added, with a vindictive look at Buckingham, “that they will not dare to molest me.”

  “The hound must be muzzled,” said Buckingham, in a low tone, to the Prince.

  “He must,” replied Charles. “Let the prisoners be removed. They are committed to the Fleet Prison.”

  “Prisoners!” exclaimed Mompesson.