The Mysteries of London (Vol. 1-4). George W. M. Reynolds
of rank, power, or position;—oh! it is horrible to contemplate!"
"Horrible—most horrible!" echoed the duchess. "The mind that thus labours under constant terror of the approach of that fearful malady, requires incessant excitement—perpetual change of scene; and this restlessness which we have observed on the part of our beloved Sovereign—and those intervals of deep gloom and depression of spirits, when that craving after variety and bustle is not indulged—"
"Are all——"
"Oh! I comprehend you too well."
"And marriage in such a case——"
"Perpetuates the disease! Yes—yes—we must surround our sovereign with all our love, all our affection, all our devotion—for bitter, bitter are the moments of solitary meditation experienced at intervals by our adored mistress."
"Such is our duty—such our desire," said the countess. "The entire family of George the Third has inherited the seeds of disease—physical and mental——"
"Scrofula and insanity," said the duchess, with a cold shudder.
"Which were inherent in that monarch," added the countess. "Did your grace ever hear the real cause and spring of that development of mental alienation in George the Third?"
"I know not precisely to what incident your ladyship alludes," said the duchess.
"That unhappy sovereign," resumed the countess, "when Prince of Wales, fell in love with a beautiful young Quakeress, whose name was Hannah Lightfoot, and whom he first beheld at the window of a house in Saint James's Street. For some time his Royal Highness and the young lady met in secret, and enjoyed each other's society. At length the passion of the prince arrived at that point when he discovered that his happiness entirely depended upon his union with Hannah Lightfoot. His Royal Highness confided his secret to his next brother Edward, to Dr. Wilmot (who was really the author of the letters of Junius), and to my mother. Those personages were the only witnesses of the legal marriage of the Prince of Wales with Hannah Lightfoot, which was solemnized by Dr. Wilmot, in Curzon Street Chapel, May Fair, in the year 1759."
"I have heard that such a connection existed," said the duchess; "but I never thought until now that it was of so serious and solemn a nature."
"Your grace may rely upon the truth of what I now tell you. Not long after the prince came to the throne, the Ministers discovered his connection with the Quakeress. The 'Royal Marriage Act' was ultimately framed to prevent such occurrences with regard to future princes; but it did not annul the union between George the Third and Hannah Lightfoot."
"Was there any issue from this marriage?" inquired the duchess.
"There was issue," answered the countess solemnly, a deep gloom suddenly passing over her countenance. "At my mother's death I discovered certain papers which revealed to me many, many strange events connected with the court of George the Third; and in which she was a confidant. But the history of Hannah Lightfoot is a sad one—a very melancholy one; and positively can I assert that it led to the subsequent mental aberration of the king."
"And there was issue resulting from that union, your ladyship says?" exclaimed the duchess, deeply interested in these disclosures.
"Yes—there was, there was!" returned the countess. "But do not question me any more at present—on a future occasion I will place in the hands of your grace the papers which my deceased mother left behind her, and which I have carefully treasured up in secret—unknown even to my husband!"
"And are the revelations so very interesting?" demanded the duchess.
"The events which have taken place in the family of George the Third would make your hair stand on end," replied the countess, sinking her voice almost to a whisper. "But, pray—question me no more at present. Another time—another time," she added hastily, "you shall know all that I know!"
There was something so exceedingly mysterious and exciting in the tone and manner of the countess, that the duchess evidently burned with curiosity to make further inquiries. But her fair companion avoided the subject with terror and disgust; and the conversation accordingly reverted to the engagement existing between Prince Albert and Queen Victoria. Nothing more was, however, said which we deem it necessary to record;—but when the two ladies had retired from the apartment, Holford had plenty of food for mental digestion. He had discovered the fatal drawback to the perfect happiness of his sovereign; and he now perceived that those who dwell in palaces, and wear diadems upon their brows, are not beyond the reach of the sharpest arrows of misfortune.
During the remainder of that evening Holford was the uninterrupted possessor of the Yellow Drawing-Room. There was a grand ball in another suite of apartments; but it was not until between three and four o'clock in the morning that the pot-boy considered it safe to quit his hiding-place.
He was now undecided whether to beat a retreat from the royal dwelling, or to favour it with his presence a little longer. The last conversation which he had overheard between the duchess and the countess, had excited within him the most lively interest; and he was anxious to hear more of those strange revelations connected with the family of George the Third, a continuation of which the countess had appeared to promise her noble friend. He was moreover emboldened by the success which had hitherto attended his adventures in the palace; and he consequently resolved upon prolonging his stay in a place where a morbid taste for the romantic encountered such welcome food.
Upon leaving the Yellow Drawing-Room, at about half-past three in the morning, as before stated, Holford proceeded to the pantry to lay in a supply of provender, as usual. He was so pressed with hunger upon this occasion, that he commenced an immediate attack upon the provisions; and was thus pleasantly engaged when, to his horror and dismay, he beheld the shadow of a human form suddenly pass along the wall—for he was standing with his back to the lamp that was burning in the passage.
He turned round—and his eyes encountered the cadaverous and sinister countenance of the Resurrection Man.
"Well this is fortunate," said the latter.
"What! you here!" ejaculated Holford, trembling from head to foot.
"Yes—certainly: why not?" said the Resurrection Man. "It struck me that as you never came near me and the Cracksman, you must be still in the royal crib; and I considered that to be a sign that all was right. So I mustered up my courage, and came to look after you. The Cracksman's waiting on the hill."
"Then let us leave this place immediately," cried Holford. "We can do nothing at present—I was going to take my departure within an hour. Come—let us go; and I will tell you every thing when we are in a place of security."
"What's the meaning of this?" demanded the Resurrection Man. "You can't have been here all this time without having found out where the plate is kept."
"Listen for one moment," said Holford, a sudden idea striking him: "the queen leaves for Windsor the day after to-morrow—then will be the time to do what you require; and I can give you all the information you will want. At present nothing can be done—nothing; and if we stay here much longer we shall be discovered."
"Well," said the Resurrection Man; "provided that some good will result from your visit——"
"There will—there will."
"Then I must follow your advice; for of course you are better able to judge of what can be done and what can't be done in this crib, than me."
The Resurrection Man glanced around him; but fortunately there was no plate left upon the shelves on this occasion. Holford felt inwardly pleased at this circumstance; for the idea of abstracting anything beyond a morsel of food from the palace was abhorrent to his mind.
The Resurrection Man intimated that he was ready to depart; and the pot-boy was only too glad to be the means of hurrying him away.
They left the palace, and entered the gardens, which they threaded in safety. A profound silence reigned around: the morning air was chill and piercing. The fresh atmosphere was