leagues away, and then was to open his instructions, and "to lose time so as to give the French time to land King James out of the cannon of Portsmouth." Ailesbury then went to France to arrange that side of the plot. He lurked at Farmer Hunt's, near Romney. There our conspirator lay ten nights, "forced to do what God knows poor people practise but too often to sleep much, not to think of an empty belly.... Once he gave me a cat instead of a rabbit," yet Farmer Hunt's charges were exorbitant. At last Ailesbury crossed the Channel in an "owler" or smuggling vessel. After innumerable discomforts, and a narrow escape from drowning, he reached St. Germains, and saw Melford, whom he so disliked. He was secretly conveyed in a sedan to court, where Madame Macdonald, a silly intriguer, stared hard at him. "That night she was brought to bed, and I was heartily glad of it." The sedan was stopped at the stair by a load of wood, laid down on purpose to make Ailesbury come out and show himself, whereas privacy was necessary to his design. In the bedchamber the queen received him in a more gracious manner than James had at his command. "The queen putting on no red, I own I was struck when I first saw her, and she perceived it, and, with a sigh, said, Afflictions alter people fast.'" The king bore his age well enough, being more phleg matic, and taking his rest well, which to my knowledge he did the same when he was turned out of his kingdom. The king gave me soon a bitter pill to swallow, and down with it I must, or return to England as I I knew his temper but too well, and when once he had taken an impression, the best reasons could never shake him, and I had not the heart to do what certainly I had done if he had been reigning in England, that is, to quit my employments and return to my own home. came. This "pill" was to see Middleton, who was intriguing with Sunderland, Ailesbury's pet aversion. He wished to see only James, Melford, the lady with whom he lodged, a Major Holmes, and the king of France, with Bontemps, keeper of the royal closet. However, he had to yield. He was introduced to the Prince of Wales (the "Old Pretender "), a child of eight-"a lovely creature." The courtiers asked the little boy who was with the king. The child only knew that the stranger was very tall, whereon one Lloyd "swore that it must be myself the prince had seen." Now Middleton, intending to restore James by aid of Sunderland, had no mind that Ailesbury should succeed. Ailesbury received Middleton, who asked his advice on the king's new declaration in manuscript. "Advice, my lord!" said Ailesbury. "It hath been printed in London a fortnight since, and I doubt not but that the printer is hanged by this time, or will be soon." They then went to James, where Ailesbury very freely denounced a declaration made by a prince who had no means of acting on it. He would carry the declaration to the admirals, if Middleton would accompany him, and swear he had seen the king sign it. In brief, Middleton had as good as ruined the plot by prematurely publishing the declaration. The same day Ailesbury saw Louis XIV.; "his smiling and bowing graciously with his head were most affable, and, to say the truth, no king whatever came up to that pitch." Neither Louis nor Ailesbury needed a map of our coasts, as they discussed the plan. "I said it was imagined in England that his Majesty knew but too well our situation. On which he smiled, and with a gracious look, told me that I was no flatterer." The plan was simple. Delaval and Killigrew were to sail with the vague or pretended instructions. The French fleet was then to bring over James, with English, Scotch, and Irish forces in French pay. The English army would soon rally to the king. On the footing of a French conquest, Aileswith Louis, "if it was required of me." bury plainly said that he could not deal But Louis durst not venture his fleet. The admirals might play him false — might "come down on him with a west wind." So this comparatively hopeful plan was abandoned. Louis said of Ailesbury, "This lord is the first man of quality with a great estate that hath repaired to you, the first man that came about on affairs of the most high importance, and the first that never asked anything for himself." This royal and deserved compliment was all that Ailesbury gained by a perilous and distasteful expedition. He reached London in a high fever, was put to bed, and lay very sick for three weeks. "I resolved that I would enter no more into what might bring me to my end, and for nothing.... But when I thought to take my rest, I had then the most unquiet days. . . . After my return from France in 1693, I never entered into what they call an overt act, although I was sent to the Tower three years after, and for what, is hard to be guessed." Burnet and Macaulay have misunderstood this expedition of Ailesbury's. It was prior to Charnock's visit to France, and to the plot for an invasion by the Duke of Berwick. It was conducted without the privity of any but Delaval and his brother admiral. But Burnet makes it part of Charnock's Plot, and of Berwick's design, in which Lord Ailesbury had no share or lot. Burnet bases his charge on Sir John Fenwick's confession. Probably Fenwick, as we shall see, had an aversion to Ailesbury, and he was also in a confused state of mind. Ailesbury's own design was, at worst, the least un-English of all the conspiracies. "The spring of all my misfortunes arose about June, 1695, occasioned by foolish complaisance; and when I thought of it after, and to the very moment I write this in April, 1729, I cannot forbear knocking mouth." A silly Jacobite, Peter Cook, a scrupulous devotee, was placed next the mistress of the house - a woman named Mrs. Mountjoy, who had no reputation. This companionship of saint and sinner was their only mirth. Montgomery had made excuse, and did not come. Charnock prayed again for an introduction. They did dine together at another tavern. "As long as we Ailesbury and Montgomery. "stayed, there was none but ordinary discourse," the waiters coming and going. As they departed they met “Mr. Goodman, the player,” on the stairs. They heard that the party lasted till four in the morning. Later, Porter and Goodman swore to a variety of lies about these entertainments, alleging that a plot had been laid for a rising and invasion, with Ailesbury's consent.* Lord Ailesbury 66 my head." Indeed, Lord Ailesbury, though absolutely innocent, was implicated in Berwick's Plot, and the Assassina- then went to various places, and chatted tion Plot of 1696. Berwick, as Macaulay says, was to arrange a Jacobite rising, to be followed by an invasion. The other plot, in which Charnock (James's vicepresident of Magdalene) was concerned, aimed simply at murdering William. It is needless to say that Ailesbury would have listened to no such abominable proposal. As to Berwick's plan, Ailesbury had done his best, had shot his bolt, and was determined never again to move in the king's cause. Yet he was arrested, and, in Macaulay's history, his name goes down to all posterity as a partner in an iniquity of the basest dye. How, then, did this misfortune befall him? We must abridge as much as possible, though the main interest of the story is in the curious details. Charnock, a convert to popery, a supporter of James's nominee at Magdalene, was a person of whom Ailesbury "could not endure the sight." His grandfather and father, however, had been friends of the Ailesbury family. In deep poverty, he thought of trying St. Germains. Sir William Perkins (Parkyns) asked Ailesbury to introduce Charnock to Lord Powis's son, Lord Montgomery, that the introduction might help him at James's little court. The good-natured Ailesbury said, "Bring him to dinner, and I will invite Lord Montgomery." Perkins, who loved a bottle, proposed a tavern dinner. They had a very bad dinner indeed. Hither came Sir John Fenwick, Charnock, and Sir William Perkins, "who brought thither, unknown to me, that monster of a man, George Porter." "I was enraged to the last degree, and at table, with a miserable dinner, I scarce opened my with Betterton, perhaps also with Mrs. Bracegirdle, at the theatre, then home to supper and bed. Lord Ailesbury sent Charnock on no commission to France, as Porter and Goodman swore later, and received no report from him. He only once saw Charnock again, and then only remarked that he was sorry Charnock had got no appointment at St. Germains. Yet he was said to have sent Charnock with an offer to raise two thousand men, a plan which he regarded as absurd. Once, at Sir John Fenwick's, he laughed at the Jacobites for distributing appointments in the future. "Give me a place that requires no attendance at court, but that brings a great income, and all transacted by secretaries and clerks, as, for example, auditor of the exchequer." And Fenwick, two years later, confessed in the Tower that Ailesbury was to be auditor of the exchequer, a post really held by his cousin, Sir Robert Howard. Ailesbury learned from a friend that the Duke of Berwick had arrived to plan an invasion. He was also sent for by the deprived Bishop of Norwich on the same affair. He bade the bishop tell the king what befell Buckingham, who took arms for Richmond (Henry VII.) before Richmond was embarked. "My lord,' said the bishop, I have the very same thoughts as you.' I concluded, My lord, there is nothing to be done. Let us be quiet, and let God govern all.' I verily believed that the Duke of Berwick was then in another room there." And this was Ailesbury's real share in the Assassination Plot, "that barbarous • See Porter's evidence in the State Trials. design of miserable wretches," and in the | against him, to escape. "I had rather Invasion Plot. An invasion he now regarded as hopeless. As for the assassination, it was odious to him, and he tries to prove that it was odious to James. The evidence of Harris he denounces as false. Barclay (whom he calls Berkeley) was sent over from France to serve under Berwick. Finding that Berwick was gone, and the rising given up, Barclay's "weak head turned round." The instructions which James had given him as an officer under Berwick, in an open rising, he used to bring men into a newly invented assassiration plot of his own. "By indirect ways I know for certain King James detested that plot, and Berkeley never after appeared before him, and by order." Harris is "a false witness," Porter "a miserable wretch," with whom Ailesbury had had some private dealings about an annuity. One King, who was executed for the Assassination Plot, sent his mother, a famous dressmaker, to tell Ailesbury that William had asked him, Perkins, and Friend, "what they knew of me?" "I obtained of a friend to let the king [Wil. liam] know that, as a Christian, I must pardon, and that I did it really, but to forget it [the suspicion, that is] was im possible." He added that had he received even a hint of the design, he would have warned his Majesty - indirectly. The plot having failed, Ailesbury received a hint to fly. He at once went and offered to surrender himself. Next day he was sent to the Tower, where his wife insisted on sharing his captivity. Sir John Fenwick was also imprisoned there. The witnesses against Ailesbury were the miscreant Porter, "Scum Goodman " the actor, and Farmer Hunt, who served up the cat as a rabbit. The intrigues of the period were many and complicated. Peterborough offered to stand by Fenwick and Ailesbury, if they would denounce Shrewsbury, Godolphin, Marlborough, and Admiral Russel. Ailesbury replied, "No person of honor and in his right senses can expect from me an answer to a proposition so ridiculous and preposterous." Fenwick, who would have acceded, now refused to nod to Ailesbury out of his prison window. To the Duke of Devonshire, Ailesbury's private enemy, Fenwick confessed "some truths, some falsehoods, and many things by hearsay." Ailesbury now refused to help Goodman, the witness stand my trial and be acquitted honorably, And here we must close too long an article, leaving much of these memoirs yet unhandled. On February 12, 1697, Lord Ailesbury was released on bail among general rejoicings. On January 29, 1698, he left England forever, dreading a bill against all who had been in France, without leave, since 1688. "This famous Act passed, the Dutch would have it so, and, next to my estate, they thirsted after my blood." For Lord Ailesbury's recollections of life on the Continent and of Marlborough we have no space. The last message which the dying king sent to him was, "If I had taken his advice at the latter part of my being in my kingdoms, I had never rendered my soul to God my Creator in a foreign country." We have left ourselves scant space for reflections on these memoirs and their author. He appears as a loyal and honest gentleman; too wise for his hopeless party. His character is cleared from com plicity in a vile plot, and from the charge of causing a witness to abscond. As to taking the oaths to William, we have his own theory of the case- a queer casuis try certainly. The question remains, Why was Lord Ailesbury a Jacobite ? "It is evident" he says, "how little I approved of many things my unfortunate king and master had done" Even more evident is his drunken contempt for his babbling, drunken, vain, and envious ferJow-jacobites. Bu, as to loyalty, drew it in with my mother's milk," he says more than once. He was loyal, as Falstaff was cowardly, "or instinct "by shour force of sentiment, of that sentiment which history can scarcely destroy, which yet wins our hearts, if not our heads, to the forlorn cause the impossible, undesizable venture the cause of the White Ros. Of course it was Phil. Who else could it be? Lady Arabella stopped in the middle of a sentence, and stared before her with wild eyes and a haggard look. And Phil was there any one so coolly, provokingly self-possessed? What cared he? He stood on the foot-path, in broad daylight, at the fashionable hour when Monkton took its airing, and waved with complacent hardihood to the old coachman to stop. Lady Arabella did not care three halfpence for the opinion - good, bad, or indifferent of Monkton. That was not why she looked haggard and wild about the eyes. It was the sight of Phil that did it; that and the idea that he had returned after all. Blanche, opposite, sent a flying thought after the beautiful new portmanteaux, and the pile of "lovely clothing" that had been young Phil's endowment. Truth to tell, he himself forced the thought into her mind, by reason of his appearance. Blanche had not a soul above externals; and oh! Phil was deplorable at that moment desperately, heart-rendingly deplorable! Constance, who sat on Lady Arabella's right, wondered what had happened. She had not seen anything. She had the pleasure of feeling the carriage stop, however; and then, the further delight of hearing Lady Arabella's disgusted voice say in quick, sharp tones: "For goodness' sake get in, Phil, and don't stand and stare at us like that!" And as she was turning her head round in amazement, she had the further satisfaction of hearing Phil's unmistakable laugh, as he jumped in quickly. "Yes, I'm back, mother dear, and jolly glad to get home, I can tell you! I'm in clover already to have met you so soon." It was a delight to Constance, stifle the feeling as best she might, to see the tall, straight young fellow take his seat opposite. Wild, care-for-nothing, as folks said he was, she knew, and so did Lady Arabella, that there was a huge, weak spot in Phil's heart, and that was always occupied by his mother, his home, and Constance. He brightened again at the sight of her now. "You here, too, Con! Why, it's just heavenly to be at home, mother!" "Do you call it home, to be riding behind the horses?" said Blanche, with a little sneer. "Yes, my dear, I do," replied the mocking, good-humored voice of the prodigal. "And it's uncommonly like it to me, I can tell you. It's the lap of luxury; and when you've not been sitting in it for a bit, you get to know what it feels like when you get hold of it again." "The colonies have not improved you," remarked Blanche, in disgust, tossing her little head with its wavy mass of soft brown hair. Phil looked down gloomily. "Perhaps not," he said gravely. "But," and he looked up with his old look of triumphant glee, "I have improved the colonies, I flatter myself." "You-how?" "By leaving them two splendid, new portmanteaux, one good hat-box with a brand-new Lincoln and Bennett' in it, and sundry articles of equally new and unworn wearing apparel." He laughed aloud. "My dear mother, you fitted me out as if for a- a-wedding; " he glanced slily at Con, and had the satisfaction of seeing her redden. "But, I contrived to turn all the things to account. I found a young fellow who was really about to be married, and he took the whole stock off my hands at a valuation." "My dear Phil!" "Phil!" Two voices chimed in concert over the delinquencies. "Well, what was I to do? Would you have liked it if you had read this"-he drew his finger down on an imaginary page — “Terrible sufferings and death "Somewhat like a heathen Chinee ! of a young man! Deceased was supposed to be the son of Lady Arabella Monkton That's philosophy, my dear mother; and of Monkton, County Blankshire, England, if dad likes to pay the piper, and prefers who arrived in this country a few weeks to receive me smartly attired, I am cerago; and met his death in a miserable tainly not the man to deny him such a manner!"" simple pleasure. To the tailors, by all means, let us go." "What nonsense!" broke in Blanche abruptly. "All who can work will find work in Australia." "My dear Wise-acre, all who answer to that description are not compelled to desert their native land, where men are so much needed." Miss Monkton's face crimsoned. "You are always impertinent, Phil," she said angrily. "I don't think father will tolerate your presence at home." "Dear old dad!" ejaculated the scapegrace with fervor, " and how is he?" No one smiled, no one felt the necessity to do so. Lady Arabella sighed. Few people knew what a trouble life was to her; nor did they understand that it could be an almost daily prayer, "Save me from my friends." Between Sir Edward and Phil· as between two stools Lady Arabella was forever falling to the ground. And now the complications would be worse than ever! No wonder Lady Arabella sighed. Picking up one of Constance's hands which lay on the outside of the thick opossum rug, he held it in his with unblushing coolness. "Nice little hands, Con!" he said approvingly. "Very neat, well-gloved, too. Like to see a woman neat and nice, and all that sort of thing. It's pretty in a woman hateful in a man. Don't glower at me, Blanche. I know what I am saying." "And pick up any odd thing he may have," suggested his sister amiably. "Yes, if you like; I am quite agreeable. I am a man of very simple tastes; very little pleases me. Í say, mother, if you had only seen me out there- what a figure I cut! It was in the bush, and they thought me no end of a swell. Some day I'll dress up like it, and you can ask your friends to the show, Blanche. will be a little treat for them, poor dears." It Blanche was very angry. A hot spot glowed in the middle of each cheek, and she was highly indignant. "You appear very simple, Phil," she retorted, "but my own impression is, that you are just as bad as any one else." "Thank you, Blanche dear. Just as bad! why, how grateful I am! I thought I was a great deal worse. Ah, well, we never see ourselves as others see us, do we?" "Happily not," said Lady Arabella, awaking from her own reverie in time to hear the last sentence. "Happily not!" Her son looked at her with the sweetest of smiles. "Dear old mother!" he said warmly, "I'm a terrible thorn, I know. Never mind, we grow to love our afflictions, don't we?" Wild horses would not draw from Phil the confessions which he occasionally made unasked to Lady Arabella. And now she leaned back in the carriage and smiled at him, although her heart was full of misgiving, and the certainty that sooner or later there was Sir Edward to be squared. Lady Arabella was always squaring the circle. It is a difficult task. CHAPTER II. THERE was a dinner at the Hall that evening. In the first blush of meeting Phil, Lady Arabella had forgotten all about it; but when she returned home it came back to her memory. The ClarkWinters were to dine with them, also the Stantons - rather smart, new people, with any amount of money, who had taken the Grange, and done it up in luxurious style. The old rector was coming-thank goodness! — and those young people, the new |