Preston Fight Part 36

I.

The last Parting between the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter and the Countess

THE last sad parting between the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter and the countess must now be detailed.

The interview took place in the prison-chamber in the Devereux Tower, and on the day before the execution.

After his condemnation, the earl had pa.s.sed most of his time in prayer, and had so completely succeeded in reconciling himself to his fate, that he forbade the countess to make any further efforts for his deliverance. Indeed, after the escapes that had taken place, any fresh attempt would have been futile.

The unhappy countess was staying at Dagenham Park, an old manorial mansion, near Romford in Ess.e.x, belonging to a Roman Catholic family, and she came over every day to the Tower, accompanied by Father Norman, in the hope of seeing her husband.

Latterly, permission had been refused her, but, on the day before the execution, she was allowed to visit him with the priest.

Not having seen him for a few days, she was much struck by the change in his appearance. His countenance had a very serene expression. All trouble had vanished from it, and it was plain from his looks that his thoughts were fixed on high.

"You have no longer any fear of death, I perceive, my son," said Father Norman.

"I have no desire for life, father," he replied. "I am better prepared to die than I might be at a future time, were my days prolonged."

"I shall soon rejoin you, my lord," said the countess.

"No, live!-I would have you live," he cried. "You are young, beautiful-and I trust have many years of happiness before you. I would not have them abridged. But think of me always-think how fondly I have loved you-think how entirely happy I have been in your society. Never for a single moment has my heart swerved from its devotion to you. Fate has separated us for a time-but it was against my will. My love has been sacrificed to my sense of duty."

"I know it, my dearest lord," she cried, with a look of anguish. "Oh! how bitterly I reproach myself that I urged you to join this fatal expedition. Would I could recall the past! Would we could be at Dilston together as in former days! Never! never should you leave it! But I must not speak of the past."

"Nay, it does not pain me," said the earl, tenderly. "Let us quit this dungeon for a moment in thought, and transport ourselves to Dilston. Let us stand together-as we have so often stood-upon the terrace, and gaze upon the far-spreading prospect. Ah! the scene rises before me, as I speak! We are in the glen, wandering by the side of the stream. We are in the forest, and I enter the Maiden's Walk, and receive a warning."

"What more?" cried the countess.

"Nothing," replied the earl. "The vision has disappeared. Alas! my sweet love, Dilston will be yours no more. The house you have brightened with your presence will be taken from you. I cannot bequeath it to you. Yet I should wish to be laid with my fathers in the vault beneath the little chapel."

"It shall be done, my dearest lord," she cried, earnestly. "Your wishes shall be fulfilled."

"I do not think that resting-place will be denied me," said the earl.

"Have no fear, my lord," said Father Norman. "The malice of your enemies will not extend to that length. All shall be done as you desire. When the tragedy is over, the body shall be conveyed by slow stages-and only by night-to Dilston. During the day it shall rest in some Catholic chapel, and ma.s.ses shall be said."

"I will accompany it, and see the last sad rites performed," said the countess.

"You give me inexpressible comfort," said the earl. "It was the sole request I had to prefer."

Shortly afterwards the earl retired with Father Norman into the cell adjoining the prison-chamber, where the priest heard his confession, and gave him absolution.

During this interval, the countess knelt down and prayed fervently.

At length, the earl came forth, and she arose, perceiving from his looks that the moment of parting was come.

He extended his arms, and flying towards him, she was clasped to his breast.

Thus they remained for some minutes amid a silence, broken only by her sobs.

He then made a slight effort to loosen her embrace, but she clung to him even more tenaciously.

"We must part, my best beloved," he said, printing a kiss upon her brow.

"Oh! I knew not the anguish of this hour," she cried. "Would my heart would break and relieve me!"

"For your husband's sake, calm yourself, dear daughter, I implore you!" said the priest.

But her grief was too violent to be restrained, and a paroxysm ensued that found vent in a fearful shriek, that burst through the grated windows of the fortification, and almost froze the blood of such as heard it.

She then became insensible.

On regaining consciousness, she no longer beheld her husband. She had parted from him for ever. She had been carefully removed to the Lieutenant's lodgings, where restoratives were applied.

As soon as her strength permitted, she left the Tower with Father Norman, and returned to Dagenham Park; feeling as if her heart were broken.

II.

How Lord Widdrington took a last Leave of the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter

Gloomy was the morn, and in unison with the sombre deed about to take place.

Already a scaffold, draped in black, on which the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter and Lord Kenmure were to pay the forfeit of their lives, had been erected on Tower-hill.

At an early hour three strong detachments of Life Guards marched from Whitehall, and posted themselves round the scaffold.

At the same time, a crowd of curious observers of both s.e.xes began to a.s.semble, and increased so rapidly that within an hour the whole summit of the eminence was densely thronged.

Some sympathy was expressed for the unfortunate lords about to suffer, but it would almost seem that the majority of the spectators were drawn thither by curiosity rather than by any other feeling.

Like all other crowds they exhibited great impatience because they supposed they were kept waiting, and manifested their displeasure by groaning at the Life-Guards, who, however, treated them with supreme contempt.

Not till ten o'clock did the sheriffs make their appearance, and way was cleared for them by their guard through the crowd. They proceeded to the Transport Office-a building at the rear of the scaffold-where rooms were prepared for those about to die.

At the same time, a bell within the Tower began to toll, and almost immediately afterwards, a party of grenadiers issued from the Bulwark Gate, followed by two hackney-coaches in which were the condemned n.o.bles and their chaplains.

With Lord Derwent.w.a.ter was Father Norman; with Lord Kenmure was the Reverend Mr. Sharp, a Presbyterian minister.

On either side of the coaches marched javelin men to keep off the crowd.

Had not Lord Derwent.w.a.ter been attended by a Romish priest, his youth and good looks would have excited extraordinary sympathy among the beholders, but the sight of Father Norman irritated them, and they expressed their hatred of Popery by hootings. Lord Derwent.w.a.ter seemed wholly undisturbed by the clamour.

Lord Kenmure met with a much better reception, and Mr. Sharp contrived to let the mob know that his lords.h.i.+p held Popery in abomination.

In this manner the two lords were conducted to the Transport Office, where they alighted, and were separately conducted to their rooms.

In the room prepared for the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter, Lord Widdrington, who had been reprieved, was waiting to take a last leave of his friend, and was so deeply affected that Father Norman deemed it advisable that the interview should not be prolonged.

While bidding farewell to the earl, Lord Widdrington said, in accents of profound emotion: "Were I to live a thousand years I should never forget you! You will always remain to me an example of fort.i.tude and resignation. Your heroism makes me regret that I have accepted life, since it would be a privilege to die with you. I need not wish you firmness at the last, for I know you will not want it."

With this, he embraced him, and left the room.

III.

How the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter was beheaded

LORD DERWENt.w.a.tER then addressed himself to his devotions, and remained in earnest prayer with Father Norman, till the hour approached, when the good priest thus recommended his soul to heaven.

"When thy soul shall depart from thy body, may thy Redeemer appear to thee, and appoint thee a place amongst those who are to stand before him for ever!"

The earl then arose, and since the priest was not allowed to be with him to the last, he bade him an eternal adieu.

Just then, the door was opened, and Sir John Fryer, one of the sheriffs, came in, and, with a grave salutation, inquired if he was ready.

"Perfectly," replied Lord Derwent.w.a.ter.

Casting a farewell look at the good priest he then followed the sheriff, who marched before him with his men, through two lines of foot guards to the scaffold.

All was prepared.

The executioner was standing beside the block with the axe in his hand.

Not far from him were two a.s.sistants, and near them was the coffin.

A slight murmur arose from the vast concourse as the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter appeared on the scaffold, but it was a murmur of admiration-all being struck by his slight, graceful figure, seen to the greatest advantage in his black velvet attire.

"May I say a few words to the a.s.semblage, Sir John?" asked the earl.

"a.s.suredly, my lord," replied the sheriff.

The earl then advanced towards the rail of the scaffold, and as it was evident he was about to address them, the concourse became instantly silent, and every eye was fixed upon him.

In a clear voice, that was heard afar, and vibrated through the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of all near to him, he thus spoke: "Being in a few minutes about to appear before the tribunal of Heaven, where, though most unworthy, I hope to find mercy which I have not found from men in power, I have endeavoured to make my peace by humbly begging pardon for all the sins of my life.

"I have never had any other sovereign save King James the Third, whom I have served from infancy; and if his religion had been different from mine, I should still have done all I could for him, as my ancestors did for his predecessors. I intended wrong to none, and only to serve my king and country, and if the sacrifice of my life could contribute to that end, I shall consider it well paid.

"I die a Roman Catholic, and in perfect charity with all the world, even with those most instrumental in my destruction, and I hope to be forgiven the trespa.s.ses of my youth by the Father of Infinite Mercy, into whose hands I commend my spirit."

Delivered as we have described, this brief address produced a powerful effect upon the mult.i.tude, and however much they might differ from the earl, they could not help admiring his constancy.

As he retired, a loud wail arose from the female portion of the spectators.

"My lord," observed Sir John Fryer, "I must beg you now to prepare yourself."

"Grant me a few moments more," said the earl.

And the request being accorded, he knelt down and prayed fervently.

Shortly afterwards, he arose, and stepped towards the executioner, one of whose men would have helped him to take off a portion of his attire, but he refused the a.s.sistance.

The executioner then besought his forgiveness.

"With all my heart," replied the earl. "I forgive all my enemies-even the most malicious of them-and I forgive you."

Seeing the man look hard at him, he added: "Thou wilt find a purse in my pocket. 'Tis thine with its contents."

"I thank your lords.h.i.+p. Will you now try how the block fits you?"

Thereupon the earl made the essay.

Apparently satisfied, he turned to the executioner, and said: "Is thine axe sharp?"