St. George's Cross; Or, England Above All. Henry George Keene
all activity save that connected with the services of religion. But, in spite of the weather, it had been judged wise and proper that Charles should show himself at Church on this, the first Sunday of his kingship in Jersey: and he accordingly attended worship at the Town Church of S. Helier's. The tide was low, and the royal cortège, muffled in their cloaks, rode or walked slowly along the causeway, and up the glacis that led to the entrance. The Rector was absent, his opinions being displeasing to the autocratic Carteret; but the Rev. Mr. La Cloche, Rector of S. Owen (the Carteret parish) was in charge; he was the Lieutenant-Governor's private Chaplain; and under strict orders had made splendid preparation for the illustrious congregation. The old temple had been swept and garnished. Laurel boughs and the beautiful flowers and fruits of the season hung from every arch and decorated every pillar. The aisles were covered with a thick natural carpet of fragrant rushes; before the pulpit were chairs for the King and his brother the Duke of York, and the space they stood on was tapestried with glowing colours. Cushioned tables supported the gilded bibles and prayer-books for the royal worshippers, who arrived precisely at eleven followed by their numerous train. Throwing off his wringing roquelaure Charles entered, plumed hat in hand, a young man of middle stature, erect and well-knit for his years—which were but nineteen—and with a countenance which, though even then wanting in flesh and bloom, was not unpleasing: framed in natural curls, and showing (to sympathetic observers) a noble and pleasing dignity often, it must be avowed, contrasting strongly with the mingled frivolity and cynicism that marked his words. Being in mourning for the event of January he was clothed in purple velvet without lace or embroidery. Over his doublet hung a short cloak with a star on the left breast, under which was a silk scarf, cloak and scarf being all of purple. The famous ribbon of the Garter round his left knee was the only bit of other colour visible. James, a few years younger, was similarly attired. Besides the two Princes the only other Knight of the Garter was the Earl of Southampton. The rest of the Lords and Gentlemen in Waiting were also in Court-mourning, and all without the smallest decoration.
After the conclusion of the Service the clergyman ascended the pulpit in his black gown. He took his text from the second book of Chronicles, c. 35, the end of the 24th verse:—"And all Judah and Jerusalem mourned for Josiah."
The turn of Mr. La Cloche's discourse may be in great measure anticipated. Setting forth the heinousness of rebellion and regicide, he dwelt upon the virtues of the Royal Martyr, his courage, his patience, his devotion to the Church. As was but natural in the circumstances, there followed an application to local politics. They were there, he informed his hearers (as the old lattices, shaken by the gale, rattled their accompaniment to his monotone) in the character of Englishmen; but he had to notice that to the existing rulers of England they owed no obedience. The so-called Parliament which had judged and murdered the late lamented Monarch, and which now claimed the right of ruling in his stead, was no divinely appointed head of affairs, not even representative of one Estate of the realm. Where were the Peers, the Lords Temporal who had ever formed part of the Government of England, the Lords Spiritual who represented the Church of Christ? The House of Lords was now represented to them, there in the presence of the Honourable Sir George Carteret, Knight and Baronet, whom that High Chamber had set and appointed to bear rule in that Island. Still more had they before them their Sovereign, the Anointed of the Lord, without whose assent all Acts of State must ever be futile and rebellious. Yes, he was there, that Sacred head, covered and guarded by the loyal hearts and arms of one—only one—of his Norman Isles.
As the sermon came to an end the storm without showed signs of abatement; and by the time the blessing had been pronounced and the King and Prince had mounted their richly caparisoned horses, the wind had lulled and the September sun gleamed brightly out upon the attentive and orderly crowd. On returning to the Castle Charles sate down to dinner, and a select portion of the more loyal Jersey society was admitted into the Hall to see the King at table. Only two places were set; and after a Latin grace had been pronounced by the Court-Chaplain, the dishes were taken, one by one, to the King and his brother, and whatever meats were approved were taken to the side-board and carved. The royal youths had stood with uncovered heads while grace was being said; but they replaced their hats when they sate down, and wore them throughout dinner. After they had dined the Page-in-waiting, a tall and handsome youth, richly attired, brought each of them a ewer and basin of parcel-gilt silver, with a fringed damask napkin; and after they had washed their hands a butler served them with Spanish and Gascon wines. Dessert having been placed upon the table and tasted, the princes withdrew; and then the hungry courtiers sate down to finish the repast.
Retired to his private sitting-room, Charles lay back on a window-seat, tooth-pick in hand, and looked out indolently on the sea. The waves scintillated and broke into white foam, among the brown rocks, which disappeared gradually under the rising tide; and the wings of glancing gulls shone out against a rain-cloud which was bearing off the recent storm. Below the dark pall the sky of the horizon glowed bright and clear as jade over the deepening line of the distant waters. At the King's feet sat the page who had served the princes at dinner, a bright rakish-looking young fellow named Thomas Elliot; apparently absorbed in the preparation of fishing-tackle, he was heedfully watching the face of his royal master out of the corner of his dare-devil eyes.
"Where is James, Tom?" asked presently the King.
"Gone to feed the hawks, Sir."
"One's own flesh-and-blood is poor company, he finds. By the Lord, Tom, this is no life for a Christian, be he man or boy. To be lunged round my good mother at the length of her apron-string seemed but dull work, and making love to the Grande Mademoiselle was indifferent pastime. But, odsfish, I would willingly be back there. In this God-forgotten corner you cannot see a petticoat on any terms, save the farthingale of Dame Carteret or her ancient housekeeper, as they cross the courtyard to give corn to the pigeons. James and I went out fishing yesterday, as far as S. Owen's pond; but no sport had we there but the chance of a broken head from a Puritan farmer."
"Why, what a plague did they want by laying hands on our anointed pate?"
"Ah! look you," said Charles, in his languid drawl, "We did but beg a cup of cider from his daughter. James hath a long face and a dull tongue for a boy of his age; but I warrant I spoke the wench fair for my part; and in French that had passed muster at Versailles. But 'tis a perverse and stiff-necked generation. The wench screamed in some language not understandable by us—Carribee it may be—but faith there was no difficulty about the farmer's meaning: he conjugated his fists, but we declined the encounter; and so we were quit as to grammar."
The manner of the speaker was in such dry and droll contrast with his matter that Elliot had no difficulty in according the sympathetic smile which is the tribute of the jovial and manly sycophant to a superior he wishes to please.
"And this is then, the escapade for which the gros bonnets down there have determined that you are not to stir out of this charming retreat without a guard, or suffer your sacred person to meet the air of the island without the hedge of an escort. But I have a plan to defeat them...."
Whatever projects the young men might be disposed to form for the purpose of eluding the prudent precautions of their seniors were for the moment cut short by a knocking at the door, which made them start aside like the disturbed conspirators that they were.
"Quick! vanish," muttered the King sharply; "behind the bureau there. If the comer be Nicholas let him not see thee here. He bears thee no good will."
As Elliot hurriedly obeyed, the door slowly opened, giving entrance to the Rector of S. Owen. The worthy clergyman still wore the gown and bands in which he had preached in the forenoon, and carried in his hand the four-cornered but boardless college-cap which formed part of the clerical costume of those days. Bestowing upon the youthful King a look whose awestruck humility was at curious variance with the respective ages and appearance of the two, and making an awkward obeisance, Mr. La Cloche spoke:—
"I crave your pardon, Sir. Receiving no reply to my knock I presumed to enter, deeming mine errand an excuse."
Charles pointed to a seat and drew himself up with dignity:—
"It needs no further excuse, reverend Sir, say on, and fear nothing." La Cloche seated himself on the corner of the chair.
"It is my humble duty to warn your Majesty that Jersey is no suitable