RAVENSHOE

RAVENSHOE BY HENRY KINGSLEY

NEW EDITION—THIRD THOUSAND

WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY R. CATON WOODVILLE

LONDON WARD, LOCK AND BOWDEN, LIMITED WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C. NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE 1894 [All rights reserved]

To MY BROTHER, CHARLES KINGSLEY, I DEDICATE THIS TALE, IN TOKEN OF A LOVE WHICH ONLY GROWS STRONGER AS WE BOTH GET OLDER.

PREFACE.

The language used in telling the following story is not (as I hope the reader will soon perceive) the Author's, but Mr. William Marston's.

The Author's intention was, while telling the story, to develop, in the person of an imaginary narrator, the character of a thoroughly good-hearted and tolerably clever man, who has his fingers (as he would say himself) in every one's pie, and who, for the life of him, cannot keep his own counsel—that is to say, the only person who, by any possibility, could have collected the mass of family gossip which makes up this tale.

Had the Author told it in his own person, it would have been told with less familiarity, and, as he thinks, you would not have laughed quite so often.

[Pg ix]

CONTENTS.

PAGE CHAPTER I AN ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY OF RAVENSHOE 1 CHAPTER II. SUPPLEMENTARY TO THE FOREGOING 10 CHAPTER III. IN WHICH OUR HERO'S TROUBLES BEGIN 14 CHAPTER IV. FATHER MACKWORTH 20 CHAPTER V. RANFORD 23 CHAPTER VI. THE "WARREN HASTINGS" 34 CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH CHARLES AND LORD WELTER DISTINGUISH THEMSELVES AT THE UNIVERSITY 44 CHAPTER VIII. [Pg x]JOHN MARSTON 50 CHAPTER IX. ADELAIDE 57 CHAPTER X. LADY ASCOT'S LITTLE NAP 63 CHAPTER XI. GIVES US AN INSIGHT INTO CHARLES'S DOMESTIC RELATIONS, AND SHOWS HOW THE GREAT CONSPIRATOR SOLILOQUISED TO THE GRAND CHANDELIER 69 CHAPTER XII. CONTAINING A SONG BY CHARLES RAVENSHOE, AND ALSO FATHER TIERNAY'S OPINION ABOUT THE FAMILY 79 CHAPTER XIII. THE BLACK HARE 86 CHAPTER XIV. LORD SALTIRE'S VISIT, AND SOME OF HIS OPINIONS 92 CHAPTER XV. CHARLES'S "LIDDELL AND SCOTT" 99 CHAPTER XVI. MARSTON'S ARRIVAL 104 CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH THERE IS ANOTHER SHIPWRECK 107 CHAPTER XVIII. MARSTON'S DISAPPOINTMENT 114 CHAPTER XIX. [Pg xi]ELLEN'S FLIGHT 121 CHAPTER XX. RANFORD AGAIN 124 CHAPTER XXI. CLOTHO, LACHESIS, AND ATROPOS 131 CHAPTER XXII.

THE LAST GLIMPSE OF OXFORD 139 CHAPTER XXIII. THE LAST GLIMPSE OF THE OLD WORLD 142 CHAPTER XXIV. THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE NEW WORLD 146 CHAPTER XXV. FATHER MACKWORTH BRINGS LORD SALTIRE TO BAY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 152 CHAPTER XXVI. THE GRAND CRASH 160 CHAPTER XXVII. THE COUP DE GRACE 167 CHAPTER XXVIII. FLIGHT 176 CHAPTER XXIX. CHARLES'S RETREAT UPON LONDON 180 CHAPTER XXX. MR. SLOANE 185 CHAPTER XXXI. [Pg xii]LIEUTENANT HORNBY 190 CHAPTER XXXII. SOME OF THE HUMOURS OF A LONDON MEWS. 194 CHAPTER XXXIII. A GLIMPSE OF SOME OLD FRIENDS 200 CHAPTER XXXIV. IN WHICH FRESH MISCHIEF IS BREWED 203 CHAPTER XXXV. IN WHICH AN ENTIRELY NEW, AND, AS WILL BE SEEN HEREAFTER, A MOST IMPORTANT CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED 211 CHAPTER XXXVI. THE DERBY 219 CHAPTER XXXVII. LORD WELTER'S MÉNAGE 227 CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE HOUSE FULL OF GHOSTS 235 CHAPTER XXXIX. CHARLES'S EXPLANATION WITH LORD WELTER 242 CHAPTER XL. A DINNER PARTY AMONG SOME OLD FRIENDS 246 CHAPTER XLI. CHARLES'S SECOND EXPEDITION TO ST. JOHN'S WOOD 252 CHAPTER XLII. RAVENSHOE HALL, DURING ALL THIS 261 CHAPTER XLIII. [Pg xiii]THE MEETING 270

CHAPTER XLIV. ANOTHER MEETING 275 CHAPTER XLV. HALF A MILLION 285 CHAPTER XLVI. TO LUNCH WITH LORD ASCOT 288 CHAPTER XLVII. LORD HAINAULT'S BLOTTING-BOOK 302 CHAPTER XLVIII. IN WHICH CUTHBERT BEGINS TO SEE THINGS IN A NEW LIGHT 309 CHAPTER XLIX. THE SECOND COLUMN OF "THE TIMES" OF THIS DATE, WITH OTHER MATTERS 317 CHAPTER L. SHREDS AND PATCHES 320 CHAPTER LI. IN WHICH CHARLES COMES TO LIFE AGAIN 327 CHAPTER LII. WHAT LORD SALTIRE AND FATHER MACKWORTH SAID WHEN THEY LOOKED OUT OF THE WINDOW 335 CHAPTER LIII. CAPTAIN ARCHER TURNS UP 343 CHAPTER LIV. CHARLES MEETS HORNBY AT LAST 349 CHAPTER LV. [Pg xiv]ARCHER'S PROPOSAL 358 CHAPTER LVI. SCUTARI 369 CHAPTER LVII. WHAT CHARLES DID WITH HIS LAST EIGHTEEN SHILLINGS 374 CHAPTER LVIII. THE NORTH SIDE OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 379 CHAPTER LIX. LORD ASCOT'S CROWNING ACT OF FOLLY 391 CHAPTER LX. THE BRIDGE AT LAST 400 CHAPTER LXI. SAVED 411 CHAPTER LXII. MR. JACKSON'S BIG TROUT 415 CHAPTER LXIII. IN WHICH GUS CUTS FLORA'S DOLL'S CORNS 420 CHAPTER LXIV. THE ALLIED ARMIES ADVANCE ON RAVENSHOE 423 CHAPTER LXV. FATHER MACKWORTH PUTS THE FINISHING TOUCH ON

HIS GREAT PIECE OF EMBROIDERY 427 CHAPTER LXVI. GUS AND FLORA ARE NAUGHTY IN CHURCH, AND THE WHOLE BUSINESS COMES TO AN END 438

[Pg 1]

CHAPTER I.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY OF RAVENSHOE.

I had intended to have gone into a family history of the Ravenshoes, from the time of Canute to that of her present Majesty, following it down through every change and revolution, both secular and religious; which would have been deeply interesting, but which would have taken more hard reading than one cares to undertake for nothing. I had meant, I say, to have been quite diffuse on the annals of one of our oldest commoner families; but, on going into the subject, I found I must either chronicle little affairs which ought to have been forgotten long ago, or do my work in a very patchy and inefficient way. When I say that the Ravenshoes have been engaged in every plot, rebellion, and civil war, from about a century or so before the Conquest to 1745, and that the history of the house was marked by cruelty and rapacity in old times, and in those more modern by political tergiversation of the blackest dye, the reader will understand why I hesitate to say too much in reference to a name which I especially honour. In order, however, that I

may give some idea of what the hereditary character of the family is, I must just lead the reader's eye lightly over some of the principal events of their history.

The great Irish families have, as is well known, a banshee, or familiar spirit, who, previous to misfortune or death, flits moaning round the ancestral castle. Now although the Ravenshoes, like all respectable houses, have an hereditary lawsuit; a feud (with the Humbys of Hele); a ghost (which the present Ravenshoe claims to have repeatedly seen in early youth); and a buried treasure: yet I have never heard that they had a banshee. Had such been the case, that unfortunate spirit would have had no[Pg 2] sinecure of it, but rather must have kept howling night and day for nine hundred years or so, in order to have got through her work at all. For the Ravenshoes were almost always in trouble, and yet had a facility of getting out again, which, to one not aware of the cause, was sufficiently inexplicable. Like the Stuarts, they had always taken the losing side, and yet, unlike the Stuarts, have always kept their heads on their shoulders, and their house over their heads. Lady Ascot says that, if Ambrose Ravenshoe had been attainted in 1745, he'd have been

hung as sure as fate: there was evidence enough against him to hang a dozen men. I myself, too, have heard Squire Densil declare, with great pride, that the Ravenshoe of King John's time was the only Baron who did not sign Magna Charta; and if there were a Ravenshoe at Runnymede, I have not the slightest doubt that such was the case. Through the Rose wars, again, they were always on the wrong side, whichever that might have been, because your Ravenshoe, mind you, was not bound to either side in those times, but changed as he fancied fortune was going. As your Ravenshoe was the sort of man who generally joined a party just when their success was indubitable—that is to say, just when the reaction against them was about to set in—he generally found himself among the party which was going down hill, who despised him for not joining them before, and opposed to the rising party, who hated him because he had declared against them. Which little game is common enough in this present century among some men of the world, who seem, as a

general rule, to make as little by it as ever did the Ravenshoes.

Well, whatever your trimmers make by their motion nowadays, the Ravenshoes were not successful either at liberal conservatism or conservative liberalism. At the end of the reign of Henry VII. they were as poor as Job, or poorer. But, before you have time to think of it, behold, in 1530, there comes you to court a Sir Alured Ravenshoe, who incontinently begins cutting in at the top of the tune, swaggering, swearing, dressing, fighting, dicing, and all that sort of thing, and, what is more, paying his way in a manner which suggests successful burglary as the only solution. Sir Alured, however, as I find, had done no worse than marry an old maid (Miss Hincksey, one of the Staffordshire Hinckseys) with a splendid fortune; which fortune set the family on its legs again for some generations. This Sir Alured seems to have been an audacious rogue. He made great interest with the king, who was so far pleased with his activity in athletic sports that he gave him a post in Ireland. There our Ravenshoe was so fascinated by the charming manners

of the[Pg 3] Earl of Kildare that he even accompanied that nobleman on a visit to Desmond; and, after a twelvemonth's unauthorised residence in the interior of Ireland, on his return to England he was put into the Tower for six months to "consider himself."

This Alured seems to have been a deuce of a fellow, a very good type of the family. When British Harry had that difference we wot of with the Bishop of Rome, I find Alured to have been engaged in some five or six Romish plots, such as had the king been in possession of facts, would have consigned him to a rather speedy execution. However, the king seems to have looked on this gentleman with a suspicious eye, and to have been pretty well aware what sort of man he was, for I find him writing to his wife, on the occasion of his going to court—"The King's Grace looked but sourly upon me, and said it should go hard, but that the pitcher which went so oft to the well should be broke at last. Thereto I making answer, 'that that should depend on the pitcher, whether it were iron or clomb,' he turned on his heel, and presently departed from me."

He must have been possessed of his full share of family audacity to sharpen his wits on the terrible Harry, with such an unpardonable amount of treason hanging over him. I have dwelt thus long on him, as he seems to have possessed a fair share of the virtues and vices of his family—a family always generous and brave, yet always led astray by bad advisers. This Alured built Ravenshoe House, as it stands to this day, and in which much of the scene of this story is laid.

They seem to have got through the Gunpowder Plot pretty well, though I can show you the closet where one of the minor conspirators, one Watson, lay perdu for a week or so after that gallant attempt, more I suspect from the effect of a guilty conscience than anything else, for I never heard of any distinct charge being brought against him. The Forty-five, however, did not pass quite so easily, and Ambrose Ravenshoe went as near to lose his head as any one of the family since the Conquest. When the news came from the north about the alarming advance of the Highlanders, it immediately struck Ambrose that this was the best opportunity for making a fool of himself that could possibly occur. He accordingly, without hesitation or consultation with any mortal soul, rang the bell for his butler, sent for his stud-groom, mounted every man about the place (twenty or so), armed them, grooms, gardeners, and all, with crossbows and partisans from the armoury, and rode into the cross, at Stonnington, on a market-day, and boldly proclaimed the Pretender

king. It soon got about that "the squire" was making a fool of himself, and that[Pg 4] there was some fun going; so he shortly found himself surrounded by a large and somewhat dirty rabble, who, with cries of "Well done, old rebel!" and "Hurrah for the Pope!" escorted him, his terror-stricken butler and his shame-stricken grooms, to the Crown and Sceptre. As good luck would have it, there happened to be in the town that day no less a person than Lord Segur, the leading Roman Catholic nobleman of the county. He, accompanied by several of the leading gentlemen of the same persuasion, burst into the room where the Squire sat, overpowered him, and, putting him bound into a coach, carried him off to Segur Castle, and locked him up. It took all the strength of the Popish party to save him from attainder. The Church rallied right bravely round the old house, which had always assisted her with sword and purse, and never once had wavered in its allegiance. So while nobler heads went down, Ambrose Ravenshoe's remained on his shoulders.

Ambrose died in 1759.

John (Monseigneur) in 1771.

Howard in 1800. He first took the Claycomb hounds.

Petre in 1820. He married Alicia, only daughter of Charles, third Earl of Ascot, and was succeeded by Densil, the first of our dramatis personæ—the first of all this shadowy line that we shall see in the flesh. He was born in the year 1783, and married, first in 1812, at his father's desire, a Miss Winkleigh, of whom I know nothing; and second, at his own desire, in 1823, Susan, fourth daughter of Lawrence Petersham, Esq., of Fairford Grange, county Worcester, by whom he had issue—

Cuthbert, born 1826;

Charles, born 1831.

Densil was an only son. His father, a handsome, careless, good-humoured, but weak and superstitious man, was entirely in the hands of the priests, who during his life were undisputed masters of Ravenshoe. Lady Alicia was, as I have said, a daughter of Lord Ascot, a Staunton, as staunchly a Protestant a house as any in England. She, however, managed to fall in love with the handsome young Popish Squire, and to elope with him, changing not only her name, but, to the dismay of her family, her faith also, and becoming, pervert-like, more actively bigoted than her easy-going husband. She brought little or no money into the family; and, from her portrait, appears to have been exceedingly pretty, and monstrously silly.

To this strong-minded couple was born, two years after their marriage, a son who was called Densil.

This young gentleman seems to have got on much like other[Pg 5] young gentlemen till the age of twenty-one, when it was determined by the higher powers in conclave assembled that he should go to London, and see the world; and so, having been cautioned duly how to avoid the flesh and the devil, to see the world he went. In a short time intelligence came to the confessor of the family, and through him to the father and mother, that Densil was seeing the world with a vengeance; that he was the constant companion of the Right Honourable Viscount Saltire, the great dandy of the Radical Atheist set, with whom no man might play picquet and live; that he had been upset in a tilbury with Mademoiselle Vaurien of Drury-lane at Kensington turnpike; that he had fought the French émigré, a Comte de Hautenbas, apropos of the Vaurien aforementioned—in short, that he was going on at a deuce of a rate: and so a hurried council was called to deliberate what was to be done.

"He will lose his immortal soul," said the priest.

"He will dissipate his property," said his mother.

"He will go to the devil," said his father.

So Father Clifford, good man, was despatched to London, with post horses, and ordered to bring back the lost sheep vi et armis. Accordingly, at ten o'clock one night, Densil's lad was astounded by having to admit Father Clifford, who demanded immediately to be led to his master.

Now this was awkward, for James well knew what was going on upstairs; but he knew also what would happen, sooner or later, to a Ravenshoe servant who trifled with a priest, and so he led the way.

The lost sheep which the good father had come to find was not exactly sober this evening, and certainly not in a very good temper. He was playing écarté with a singularly handsome, though supercilious-looking man, dressed in the height of fashion, who, judging from the heap of gold beside him, had been winning heavily. The priest trembled and crossed himself—this man was the terrible, handsome, wicked, witty, Atheistical, radical Lord Saltire, whose tongue no woman could withstand, and whose pistol no man dared face; who was currently believed to have sold himself to the deuce, or, indeed, as some said, to be the deuce himself.

A more cunning man than poor simple Father Clifford would have made some common-place remark and withdrawn, after a short greeting, taking warning by the impatient scowl that settled on Densil's handsome face. Not so he. To be defied by a boy whose law had been his word for ten years past never entered into his head, and he sternly advanced towards the pair.

[Pg 6]

Densil inquired if anything were the matter at home. And Lord Saltire, anticipating a scene, threw himself back in his chair, stretched out his elegant legs, and looked on with the air of a man who knows he is going to be amused, and composes himself thoroughly to appreciate the entertainment.

"Thus much, my son," said the priest; "your mother is wearing out the stones of the oratory with her knees, praying for her first-born, while he is wasting his substance, and perilling his soul, with debauched Atheistic companions, the enemies of God and man."

Lord Saltire smiled sweetly, bowed elegantly, and took snuff.

"Why do you intrude into my room, and insult my guest?" said Densil, casting an angry glance at the priest, who stood calmly like a black pillar, with his hands before him. "It is unendurable."

"Quem Deus vult," &c. Father Clifford had seen that scowl once or twice before, but he would not take warning. He said—

"I am ordered not to go westward without you. I command you to come."

"Command me! command a Ravenshoe!" said Densil, furiously.

Father Clifford, by way of mending matters, now began to lose his temper.

"You would not be the first Ravenshoe who has been commanded by a priest; ay, and has had to obey too," said he.

"And you will not be the first jack-priest who has felt the weight of a Ravenshoe's wrath," replied Densil, brutally.

Lord Saltire leant back, and said to the ambient air, "I'll back the priest, five twenties to one."

This was too much. Densil would have liked to quarrel with Saltire, but that was death—he was the deadest shot in Europe. He grew furious, and beyond all control. He told the priest to go (further than purgatory); grew blasphemous, emphatically renouncing the creed of his forefathers, and, in fact, all other creeds. The priest grew hot and furious too, retaliated in no measured terms, and finally left the room with his ears stopped, shaking the dust off his feet as he went. Then Lord Saltire drew up to the table again, laughing.

"Your estates are entailed, Ravenshoe, I suppose?" said he.

"No."

"Oh! It's your deal, my dear fellow."

Densil got an angry letter from his father in a few days, demanding full apologies and recantations, and an immediate return home. Densil had no apologies to make, and did not[Pg 7] intend to return till the end of the season. His father wrote declining the honour of his further acquaintance, and sending him a draft for fifty pounds to pay outstanding bills, which he very well knew amounted to several thousands. In a short time the great Catholic tradesmen, with whom he had been dealing, began to press for money in a somewhat insolent way; and now Densil began to see that, by defying and insulting the faith and the party to which he belonged, he had merely cut himself off from rank, wealth, and position. He had defied the partie prêtre, and had yet to feel their power. In two months he was in the Fleet prison.