CHAPTER I.
LORD CLANCHARLIE.
I.
There was, in those days, an old tradition.
That tradition was Lord Linnaeus Clancharlie.
Linnaeus Baron Clancharlie, a contemporary of Cromwell, was one of thepeers of England--few in number, be it said--who accepted the republic.The reason of his acceptance of it might, indeed, for want of a better,be found in the fact that for the time being the republic wastriumphant. It was a matter of course that Lord Clancharlie shouldadhere to the republic, as long as the republic had the upper hand; butafter the close of the revolution and the fall of the parliamentarygovernment, Lord Clancharlie had persisted in his fidelity to it. Itwould have been easy for the noble patrician to re-enter thereconstituted upper house, repentance being ever well received onrestorations, and Charles II. being a kind prince enough to those whoreturned to their allegiance to him; but Lord Clancharlie had failed tounderstand what was due to events. While the nation overwhelmed withacclamation the king come to retake possession of England, whileunanimity was recording its verdict, while the people were bowing theirsalutation to the monarchy, while the dynasty was rising anew amidst aglorious and triumphant recantation, at the moment when the past wasbecoming the future, and the future becoming the past, that noblemanremained refractory. He turned his head away from all that joy, andvoluntarily exiled himself. While he could have been a peer, hepreferred being an outlaw. Years had thus passed away. He had grown oldin his fidelity to the dead republic, and was therefore crowned with theridicule which is the natural reward of such folly.
He had retired into Switzerland, and dwelt in a sort of lofty ruin onthe banks of the Lake of Geneva. He had chosen his dwelling in the mostrugged nook of the lake, between Chillon, where is the dungeon ofBonnivard, and Vevay, where is Ludlow's tomb. The rugged Alps, filledwith twilight, winds, and clouds, were around him; and he lived there,hidden in the great shadows that fall from the mountains. He was rarelymet by any passer-by. The man was out of his country, almost out of hiscentury. At that time, to those who understood and were posted in theaffairs of the period, no resistance to established things wasjustifiable. England was happy; a restoration is as the reconciliationof husband and wife, prince and nation return to each other, no statecan be more graceful or more pleasant. Great Britain beamed with joy; tohave a king at all was a good deal--but furthermore, the king was acharming one. Charles II. was amiable--a man of pleasure, yet able togovern; and great, if not after the fashion of Louis XIV. He wasessentially a gentleman. Charles II. was admired by his subjects. He hadmade war in Hanover for reasons best known to himself; at least, no oneelse knew them. He had sold Dunkirk to France, a manoeuvre of statepolicy. The Whig peers, concerning whom Chamberlain says, "The cursedrepublic infected with its stinking breath several of the highnobility," had had the good sense to bow to the inevitable, to conformto the times, and to resume their seats in the House of Lords. To do so,it sufficed that they should take the oath of allegiance to the king.When these facts were considered--the glorious reign, the excellentking, august princes given back by divine mercy to the people's love;when it was remembered that persons of such consideration as Monk, and,later on, Jeffreys, had rallied round the throne; that they had beenproperly rewarded for their loyalty and zeal by the most splendidappointments and the most lucrative offices; that Lord Clancharlie couldnot be ignorant of this, and that it only depended on himself to beseated by their side, glorious in his honours; that England had, thanksto her king, risen again to the summit of prosperity; that London wasall banquets and carousals; that everybody was rich and enthusiastic,that the court was gallant, gay, and magnificent;--if by chance, farfrom these splendours, in some melancholy, indescribable half-light,like nightfall, that old man, clad in the same garb as the commonpeople, was observed pale, absent-minded, bent towards the grave,standing on the shore of the lake, scarce heeding the storm and thewinter, walking as though at random, his eye fixed, his white hairtossed by the wind of the shadow, silent, pensive, solitary, who couldforbear to smile?
It was the sketch of a madman.
Thinking of Lord Clancharlie, of what he might have been and what hewas, a smile was indulgent; some laughed out aloud, others could notrestrain their anger. It is easy to understand that men of sense weremuch shocked by the insolence implied by his isolation.
One extenuating circumstance: Lord Clancharlie had never had any brains.Every one agreed on that point.