Fortunately, her father and Maria were with her, and to the care of the latter she owed her recovery.
Don Fortunio brought her and her faithful attendant to Liverpool, and after a short stay there, a vessel was found that conveyed them all to Cadiz.
END OF BOOK THE SEVENTH.
| Go to Table of Contents |
BOOK EIGHT
SEVEN YEARS LATER
BOLTON, October 16th, 1651
I
The Earl of Derby’s last journey
Some description appears necessary of the tragic death of the illustrious and unfortunate nobleman who has formed the principal figure in our story.
For the details we shall refer to two contemporary narratives, reproduced by the Reverend Mr. RAINES in his “Memoirs of James Earl of Derby,” published by the CHETMAN SOCIETY—narratives justly described by the learned editor as “having no parallel in our history.”
“The picture is complete and perfect in itself,” remarks Mr. RAINES; “and it is not extravagant praise to say that it will retain its melancholy attraction as long as any reverence shall remain for what is noble and heroic or any pity for tenderness and constancy in the saddest reverses of fortune, in fact as long as there are hearts that can feel, and eyes that can weep.”
Seven years have flown, years fraught with deepest interest.
A monarch has been beheaded, and his son driven from his kingdom. Rebellion has triumphed. The fatal battle of Worcester has been fought, and the brave and loyal Earl of Derby, who left his wife and children in his castle in Mona’s rugged isle to aid the youthful Charles, has been made prisoner—having surrendered after quarter for life had been given by his captor.
Confined in Chester, and tried by a court-martial, the earl has been doomed to death. To add to the severity of the sentence, it has been appointed by the judges that the execution shall take place at Bolton, where it is supposed the inhabitants have a strong vindictive feeling towards the illustrious prisoner.
On this point the earl himself, fearful of being reviled by the people of the town, wrote thus to the Speaker of the House of Parliament:
“It is a greater affliction to me than death itself, that I am sentenced to die at Bolton; since the nation will look upon me as a sacrifice for that blood which some have unjustly cast upon me, and from which I hope I am acquitted in your opinion, and the judgment of good men, having cleared myself by undeniable evidence. At my trial, it was never mentioned against me, and yet I am adjudged to suffer at Bolton, as if indeed I had been guilty.”
Notwithstanding this appeal, no alteration was made.
The day of execution having been fixed for Wednesday, 15th October, 1651, the ill-fated earl set forth on the day before from Chester, escorted by a strong guard, consisting of sixty musketeers, and eighty horse—the latter being well armed and well mounted, and commanded by a captain, notorious for his devotion to the Parliament.
With the earl were Mr. Baguley, who wrote the account of his noble master’s imprisonment and death; Paul Moreau his valet, and several other faithful servants. To add to the indignity shown him by his malevolent enemies, the earl was provided with a sorry steed.
All who saw him set out on his last journey loudly expressed their grief—several accompanying to some distance.
On Hole Heath, not far from Chester, the earl was met by his two younger daughters, the Lady Katherine and the Lady Amelia Stanley, who came to take a last leave of him.
Heedless of the presence of the guard, he flung himself from his horse, embraced his daughters tenderly, and then knelt down beside their on the road, and prayed.
On rising he again pressed them to his heart, and gave them his last blessing. Such a sad spectacle has rarely been witnessed—such a father—such daughters—one so noble, the others so beautiful, tender, and loving.
The beholders were indescribably affected by the scene. Outbursts of grief were heard on all sides, and numbers knelt down and prayed.
At last, the parting was over.
The fainting girls, who had sustained themselves with difficulty, broke down in the end, and were borne away insensible.