Читать книгу Henry Smeaton - G. P. R. James - Страница 5

We must now return to the little parlour of Van Noost, the leaden-statue-maker, and suppose that an hour or two has passed since we left him and his companion there together. We have but paused, indeed, to tell a story by the way. In the meantime, Van Noost had rolled about from one part of his house to the other, eager to show every sort of hospitality and attention to his guest. He had called a somewhat buxom cook to conference in his workshop, and had whispered instructions and directions to a man and two or three boys who aided him in his labours, and who instantly issued forth, by the back door of the house, upon what may justly be termed a foraging expedition, taking their way towards Mayfair and Shepherd's market, though be it understood that Mayfair then actually consisted of fields, on which the fair, till within late years, had been held. In the immediate neighbourhood were a number of public-houses, taverns, and eating-shops, of which one was the notorious Dog and Duck.

Notwithstanding all the precautions he had taken, good Van Noost thought fit to apologise beforehand for the scantiness and meanness of the only fare which he should have to set before his distinguished guest; but Smeaton laughed lightly, laying his hand upon Van Noost's shoulder, and saying--

"I should be little worthy of the name of a soldier, my good friend, if I could not appreciate the excellence of horse-flesh and dead cat in a besieged fortress, in which light I suppose we may look upon your house, as you have taken the pains to lock the door. Whatever you can give me will be very acceptable; for, to say sooth, I had so much to do this morning that I have not broken my fast."

The meal, when it was set upon the table, however, belied Van Noost's disparaging excuses. It was not only abundant, but very savoury, although there was an hereditary smack of Dutch cookery in the dishes which might not have recommended them in general to English palates. Wine, Van Noost had none; but the beer was very good; and after dinner, the worthy entertainer produced from a cupboard in the corner a large black bottle, with a neck like a crane and a body like a goose, which he pressed upon his companion, assuring him that it was filled with genuine old Dutch Cinnamon, the like of which was not to be found in England. As the liquor was potent, however, and Smeaton thought he might as well keep his head cool, he declined the spirit, and left Van Noost to enjoy it himself.

Looking out through the low window, after the meal was over, Smeaton cast his eyes up and down the road before the house, and then, turning to Van Noost, remarked--

"That man is no longer there; and I think I might as well take my departure."

"Oh, he is hanging about somewhere near, depend upon it, my Lord," replied Van Noost. "I beseech you not to hazard yourself in the street till after dark. They will track you home, to a certainty; and then the first thing that greets you to-morrow may be a warrant for the Tower."

Smeaton seemed to entertain no great apprehension of such a result, remarking that with him there was no pretence for so violent a step.

"I would not willingly have them discover my abode, however," he remarked, "for they might hamper my movements. I think I shall return to France at once, Van Noost," he added, thoughtfully.

"Not surely before you have seen Lord Oxford?" said the other, with a look of surprise.

"Perhaps not," answered Smeaton; "but that can be done to-night. The letter I bear will gain me admission at any hour, without raising suspicion in him or any other person as to my real business."

"And even then, my good Lord," observed Van Noost, "if I might humbly be permitted to advise, you would still wait awhile--not in London, not in London, but in some quiet country place, where you would not be known, and yet could receive intelligence of all that passes, and be ready for any occasion, I am but a poor statuary, it is true, better acquainted with the arms of Apollo and the ankles of Venus than with the limbs of policy; but still I think it is better to be on the spot, especially when there is no real danger. At all events, you would be able to judge more of the temper of the people and the chances of success."

"I have judged of the temper of the people already," replied Smeaton, with a significant smile. "I mean of the people of London. I might, indeed, see something more of the country gentlemen, though I much doubt their wit if not their wishes, their discretion rather than their devotion. As to the population of this city, the mob that we saw, shouting 'Long live Oxford!' would in three months shout as gaily at his execution."

"Ay, ay," remarked Van Noost, "the people are always fickle, I know well. The time may come when even leaden statues may be out of fashion." And he sighed deeply at the very thought of such a catastrophe.

At that moment something seemed to catch Smeaton's eye, as he still stood near the window looking out into the road. His face became eager, his brow knitted, his eyes flashed, his lips curled, and his nostrils expanded. The next instant, he threw up the sash, leaped out into the garden, crossed it at a run, (knocking down two leaden soldiers and a wood-nymph,) vaulted over the rustic fence, and, exclaiming vehemently, "How dare you strike that boy so cruelly, sir?" caught by the collar a man who had just knocked down, with a tremendous blow, a young lad in gentlemanly attire, who still lay upon the ground, as if stunned. Smeaton shook the man violently, and the latter replied, in a sharp and insolent tone, struggling to get free:

"Why did he switch my leg then, and dirt all my stockings?"

"A mere accident," answered Smeaton. "He came up the road, swinging his cane about, and merely touched you by accident. Stand still! You shall not go till I know who is your master. The boy is bleeding."

"I shan't stand still," answered the man. "Take off your hand, or I'll serve you as I did him." At the same moment, he, in his turn, grasped Smeaton by the collar, and made an effort to trip him up.

His opponent, however, was younger, more active, and not a whit less strong, though his figure appeared a good deal slighter to the eye, from the symmetry with which it was formed. A struggle ensued, but it lasted not a minute, and at the end, the running footman--for such was Smeaton's opponent--was lying on his back in the dust.

The boy had by this time partly raised himself; and, clapping his hands with childlike satisfaction, exclaimed:

"Well done, well done!"

A little crowd had now collected, but Smeaton noticed nothing at the moment except his adversary, and he once more demanded in a stern tone,

"Who is your master?"

The man was silent, but one of the bystanders exclaimed:

"He's one of the Earl of Stair's men. Don't you see his colours?"

"Ay, I am one of the Earl of Stair's men," growled the footman, rising; "and he will make you pay for what you have done. There are eyes upon you, master."

"He shall punish you or take the act upon himself," answered Smeaton. At the same moment Van Noost pulled his sleeve, whispering:

"You had better come in, sir; yen had better come in. This is a bad business."

"Come, young gentleman," said Smeaton, laying his hand kindly on the boy's arm, "come in here with us, and let us see if he has hurt you much."

The boy followed mechanically; Van Noost locked the gate, which he had opened; the footman went away grumbling, with two or three children running after him to look at him, keeping, however, at a wary distance; and the little crowd which had collected gradually dispersed.

Once in the house, Smeaton and Van Noost applied themselves to stop the bleeding of a wound of no great extent or consequence which the boy had received on his head in falling, and the former asked him a number of questions, to which he received answers neither nonsensical nor without pertinence, but somewhat strange and uncommon. Shakspeare would probably have called them "simple answers," for the meaning of that word simple was not so limited in his day as in ours; yet there was an occasional touch of shrewdness in his replies, which savoured not at all of the simpleton. He used, it is true, expressions sometimes childlike, sometimes not altogether intelligible to those unaccustomed to his way of talking, but often poetical, or perhaps I should rather say figurative. His head he invariably called "his noddle." The ground on which he had fallen he spoke of as "mother earth." The fist of the man who had struck him he denominated "his poulter," and the blow "a dunder." He bore the pain well, and seemed to care little for the accident, but at the same time exhibited a degree of enthusiastic gratitude towards Smeaton (more than commensurate with the service which had hem rendered) for interfering on his behalf, and especially for avenging him on the bully who had struck him.

"Ay, ay," he said, looking eagerly in Smeaton's face, "it was good to teach the coulter-head that he's not too long to lie on mother earth."

In a few minutes he seemed quite recovered; and Van Noost poured him out a little of his Dutch Cinnamon, which, though Smeaton rather disapproved of the remedy, had a marvellous effect in restoring the boy's spirits.

Nevertheless he appeared somewhat eager to be gone; and his companions were not particularly disposed to detain him when they found that he was not seriously injured. Van Noost saw him to the garden-gate, and, on his return, perceived that his companion had fallen into a fit of thought, in which he continued for a moment or two after his host entered.

"I have made up my mind, Van Noost," said Smeaton, at length. "There are circumstances in which it is as well to take the bull by the horns. It is evident that your good friend, the Earl of Stair, has recognised me. Although we never interchanged a word in our lives, he has seen me more than once. I will not play at hide-and-seek with him. I will go to him to-night, and demand that this man shall be discharged for the outrage he has committed."

Van Noost looked astonished--nay, aghast. "But, my dear lord," he exclaimed, "think, for Heaven's sake, of what you are doing. Were it to take a city or to save an empire, it might be worth while to get into the inside of a wooden horse and be wheeled into the lion's den, like the Greek gentlemen in days of old; but, to punish a running footman, I cannot say that the object is worthy of the risk. Bethink you of your policy, noble lord."

"It is the most politic course, Van Noost," replied Smeaton. "I have nothing to fear but a little inconvenience consequent upon discovery. The discovery being already made, all the danger that can be incurred is incurred already. A part of it may be obviated by boldness. But see who that is ringing at your bell."

Van Noost instantly ran to the window and looked towards the little gate, a large bell, hanging at its side, having been just rung violently.

"It is the boy again," he said, "and a gentleman with two servants. What shall I do?"

"Oh, let them in, let them in," cried Smeaton, in a gay and indifferent tone. "Now that I have resolved to throw off disguise, I may as well hold a levee."

Not without very apparent unwillingness, the worthy statuary called one of his workmen, and bade him open the garden-gate and give admission to the strangers. He did not perform the office himself; for he would be seized with sudden fits of self-importance when he thought it necessary to keep up his dignity. The boy and the gentleman who accompanied him were speedily admitted to the garden; and, leaving the two servants at the gate, walked on to the house, and were introduced unannounced into Van Noost's little parlour.

"That is he, that is he," cried the boy, pointing to Smeaton, who had remained seated till they entered; and the gentleman by whom the lad was accompanied, a well-dressed middle-aged man, advanced, holding out his hand, and saying--"I have to thank you, sir, for your generous interference on behalf of my son."

Taking his offered hand, Smeaton replied with a smile,

"I am sorry that it was not called into activity sooner, or I might have spared him a very heavy blow; but I had not the slightest idea that a great powerful man like that would think of striking a young gentleman of your son's age, for an offence which was, evidently, merely accidental."

"It is too much the habit with our great men, sir," observed the other, "to keep bullies and bruisers in their service. But the Earl of Stair shall hear of this, and learn that, though we are under a foreign king, his creatures must be a little more considerate of the feelings and rights of Englishmen."

"I know nothing of Lord Stair except by report." said Smeaton; "but, from all I have heard, I should not suppose he was one to countenance such outrageous conduct in his servants; and I shall, certainly, request him to dismiss this man on account of his insolence to myself."

"I shall insist upon it," replied the other.

"Although he may never have heard the name of Sir John Newark, yet my possessions and my station in the country will not permit of my being insulted in the person of my son with impunity."