By the North Sea: or The Protector's Granddaughter, etc

Front matter

BY THE NORTH SEA a MRS. BRIDGET BENDYSH By the North Sea OR THE PROTECTOR'S GRAND-DAUGHTER BY EMMA MARSHALL — 1+ Author of "In the East Country," Jf Dayspring," " The White Kings Daughter?* etc. ILLUSTRATED BY MILLER-SMITH LONDON JARROLD & SONS, 10 & n, WARWICK LANE, E.C. [All Bights Reserved] NEW 5 s. BOOKS Crown 8vo, Cloth, Illustrated. Uniform with "By the North Sea.' THE TWO ALTHEAS. By Edith E. Horsman, Author of" Severn-Side," etc. Illustrated by G. Demain Hammond. BY THE NORTH SEA : or The Protector's Granddaughter. By Mrs. Emma Marshall, Author of ''In the East Country," etc. Illustrated by W. Miller-Smith. THE "FLEUR DE LYS " SERIES Of Illustrated 6s. Novels. Crown Svo, Cloth elegant. WHEN THE CENTURY WAS YOUNG. By M. M. Blake, Author of "The Siege of Norwich Castle," "Toddleben's Hero," etc.

With numerous Illustrations by the Authoress. THE LORD OF LOWEDALE. By R. D. Chetwode, Author of "The Marble City," "The Fortune of the Quittentuns." Illustrated by G. Gkenville Manton. London : Jarrold & Sons, io & n, Warwick Lane, E.C. And of all Booksillers.

Introduction

. BY THE NORTH SEA. IT may perhaps interest those who read the history of Albinia Ellis to know that Mistress Bridget Ben dysh is not an imaginary personage. Her character, her friendship with Dr. Isaac Watts, and the incidents of her life, are in all their salient points true. In the latter part of the seventeenth century and in the beginning of the eighteenth, Bridget Bendysh was a very prominent figure in the neighbourhood of Great Yarmouth. Her house, with its curious name of the Salt Pans, stood near the high-road, about a mile from the town of Yarmouth. Here she made herself conspicuous for her manual labour in garden ing and attention to her live stock. Her appearance was very eccentric, as she dressed like a common labourer's wife. But when she paid visits of cere mony, which she did at all times of the day and night, to the principal houses in the district, she VI

INTRODUCTION.

. wore plain but rich silks, and was then in manner and appearance the type of the Puritan gentlewoman of the time, stately and dignified, and never allowing it to be forgotten that she was the grand-daughter of the Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell, whom she is said to have resembled more closely than any of his children or grandchildren. I am indebted to a direct descendant of Bridget Bendysh for supplying the information of the Cromwell family, contained in a book printed for private circulation, of which Mr. Waylen is the author. Albinia herself is a wholly imaginary character but the family of Astry, with whom she is associated

INTRODUCTION.

. VII at a later period of her life, are well known in history. Sir Samuel Astry was a barrister of eminence and Clerk to the Crown in the Court of Queen's Bench. He it was who called on the seven bishops to plead guilty or not guilty at their memorable trial. Of his five daughters, one was the wife of the seventh Earl of Suffolk, and another the wife of Sir John Smyth, of Ashton Court, in the county of Somerset. Leigh 'Woods, Clifton, October, 1S95. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. My First Home. — Alone ... ... ... i II. The Protector's Grandchild ... ... 16 III. A Vain Search ... ... ... ... 29 IV. An Importunate Creditor ... ... 47 V. A New Kinsman ... ... ... ... 67 VI. Doubts and Fears ... ... ... 85 VII. New Friends ... ... ... ... ... 99 VIII. In the Early Morning ... ... ... 122 IX. Partings ... ... ... ... ... 136 X. On the King's Highway ... ... ... 149 XI.

Sir John's House at Chelsea ... ... 157 XII. At the King's Palace ... ... ... 166 XIII. Awakening ... ... ... ... ... 191 XIV. Out in the Darkness ... ... ... 211 XV. Safe with Friends ... ... ... ... 221 XVI. A Gentleman of the Road again ... 230 XVII. Ashton Court ... ... ... ... 245 XVIII. An Answered Question ... ... ... 264 XIX. Surprise and Joy ... ... ... ... 275 XX. Recollections of my Married Life ... LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Mrs. Bridget Bendysh ... ... ... Frontispiece Oliver Cromwell ... ... ... ... ... yj Market Row, Yarmouth ... ... ... ... 5 Interior, Old Church, St. Nicholas, Yarmouth ... 10 Broad Row, Yarmouth ... ... ... ... 14 Meeting of Mrs. Bendysh and Albinia ... ... 18 West Door, St. Nicholas Church, Yarmouth ... 41 St. Nicholas Church, Yarmouth ... ... ... 43 Meeting of Albinia Ellis and Ralph ... ... 69 Old Yarmouth Market Place ... ... ... 74 Rescue of Patience from the Fire ... ... 117 Gorleston, near Yarmouth ... ... ... ... 137 Burgh Castle ... ... ... ... ... 137 Dr. Watts ... ... ... ... ... ... 167 Lambeth Palace — Archbishop Tillotson ... ... 169 Whitehall ... ... ... ... ... ... 179 The King and Mrs. Bendysh ... ... ...

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Lincoln's Inn ... ... ... ... ... ... 184 The Temple Garden ... ... ... ... 195 The Temple Church ... ... ... ... ... 196 Flight of Albinia Ellis ... ... ... ... 215 The Market Place, Yarmouth ... ... ... 268 Mr. Frankland and Albinia ... ... ...

Chapter I. My First Home

— ALONE. 1694. — It was a fair morning in June when I, Albinia Ellis, after a long night, during which I had slept for sorrow, awoke to realize that I was an orphan, alone in the world, with no kindred, and none who cared for me save Patience Ringer. I had lived in a small tenement, a mile from Great Yarmouth, with my father, ever since I could remem ber anything, and led a solitary life, with no company and no friends. My father had taken some part in the rising of the country against the king. Then, when the Protector came into power, he hoped for some reward, but the reward never came. It may be that he gave offence by his religious B opinions, for he held to the Church and her doctrines, though, as I believe, he abhorred the tyranny of the Court, and fought with his sword and pen for what he deemed the righteous side of liberty.

I think my father fell between two stools. Any way, he found royal favour at the Restoration was not extended to him, and disgusted with the world, he came to this desolate tenement, which had belonged to his mother, and forgetting the world, was forgot by it, and left to live and die alone. I do not know that his living in the little tumble down house was ever noticed by the inhabitants of Southtown or Yarmouth. It may be that before I can remember anything distinctly, neighbours had offered civility. Probably they were repulsed, for my father had all the acerbity and gruff manner which those who are bitterly disappointed in their highest hopes too often show. It is with them in dark seasons as with Job — they desire only to curse God and die. My father hated any interference, and our old serving woman, Patience Ringer, had long before the time of which I write, ceased to venture on any remonstrance as to my up-bringing.

My father encouraged me to read and write, and I picked up — ALONE. 3 a good deal of knowledge in a haphazard sort of fashion. The murmur of the great North Sea lapping the shore lulled me to sleep in calm weather, and roared on stormy nights with a loud voice which would waken me, and make me cover my head and shudder as I thought of the sailors battling with the waves in their fishing crafts, trying in vain to make the port of Yarmouth. Sometimes the wind came with a shrill whistle through the long sharp points of the sword grass that flourished in thick patches on the Denes, and sent the fine sand against the casement, where it lay on the outside ledges in little heaps, or made its way through the crevices, and covered the furniture with its tiny particles. Sand everywhere ! A narrow patch of garden lay in front of our house, but as soon as the wicket-gate was opened our feet were plunged ankle-deep in the soft yielding sand, stretching away to the beach and for several miles on either side of us.

I cannot remember that I pined for a different life, nor do I think, till it was forced upon me by seeing the lives of other maidens, that I thought myself an object of pity. My father was ever gentle to me, and took delight in what he called my readiness and quickness to learn. He said but little of the past, and never mentioned my mother. He had buried both out of his sight, and there was no hand to open the grave where lay his blighted hopes and his lost love. Patience Ringer had been left by my grand mother in the house, with orders to keep it till my father claimed it ; and she had been faithful to her trust. His old home, humble though it was, was ready for my father when he appeared to take possession, and Patience often told me how she took him through the house from garret to cellar, and could say with truth— "All things were as the old mistress had left them."

It did not take long to view the house. The door opened on a square hall, with a beam across the roof. Beyond this, divided by a wooden screen, was the kitchen — that is, the place where cooking, scouring, and washing went on. From the great kitchen, or hall, where our frugal board was spread day by day, a door led to the parlour on the right-hand side, which had a square bay casement facing the sea. In this bay stood my spinning-wheel, and a shelf which held my needle work, with the coloured worsteds procured for me by Patience in the Market Row at Yarmouth. — ALONE. Above these rooms were two chambers for my father and myself, while over the back premises Patience slept. Over these were garrets where apples were stored, and flowers, with some herbs, and rushes, and several old chests which contained my grand mother's wardrobe.

One of the delights of my childhood was the annual turning out of these chests, when all the old brocades and yellow lace and ruffs, and fine bits of tapestry-work, in one of which a rusty needle still stuck fast, were smoothed and shaken by Patience, who put fresh lavender in the folds, and sprinkled the whole with a powder said to destroy moths. In another chest there were some short swords and rapiers ; a buff jerkin with a bullet hole in it, stained with blood all round it ; a pair of large boots, so heavy I could scarce lift one ; and a helmet and cuirass. Patience would always sigh over these things, and in answer to my questions would say — " They belonged to an uncle of yours, your father's brother, who had fought for King Charles, and was killed at the first battle fought by the people against the king.

It broke your grandmother's heart. One son went the wrong way, and t'other the right ; one was killed, t'other poverty-struck and ruined." "Which was right?" I used to ask; "one must have been right." " Ay, I don't know, not I ; both right in their own eyes maybe." I had just awoke, as I say, to the remembrance of my loneliness on that June morning. My father had been laid in his grave in Yarmouth churchyard the day before, and Patience was opening the shutters and letting the light of heaven come once more into the house, which out of respect for the dead had been shrouded in darkness for a week past. She came into my room softly, and, looking down on my bed, saw my eyes were open, and that I was awake. " You poor lamb ! " she said ; " I'd as lief you had slept another twelve hours." "What time is it, Patience?"

" Eight. The clock has just struck." — ALONE. 7 Patience proceeded to open the shutters of my room, and a flood of light entered. The sea la}', beyond the intervening sandheaps, glittering in the sunshine. The fishermen's craft were rocking on the waves, and the busy little swifts were twittering as they flew past, darting like arrows from a bow. " There ! lie still, and I'll bring you a mug of milk, and maybe you'll take another nap. There's nought for you to do if you get up." But I started from my pillow, and said — " I would fain get up, and come down ; and I must don my mourning garb. Patience, what shall we do ? " " Do ? While you have a roof over your head you must bide here. As for me, I'm like a snail with a shell. I am an old woman, but I was young under this roof, serving the dead, and here I hope to die."

But something told me that I was young now, and that I did not hope to live and die in that house on the sands. My father had said very little about the future, save once or twice of late he had told me a lawyer in London had his last will and testament in safe keeping, and that he would summon him when he felt the end was near, and that he would give him directions about me. " There is enough," he said. "You will not starve, Albinia : and— well— God will direct your steps ; the God of your fathers will not forsake you." I have often thought since how strange it was that my father had no particular concern about me, nor did he seem to foresee that the attacks of breath lessness, which seized him even when sitting quietly in his chair, meant death. However that may be, he did not write to the lawyer, and now he was dead there was no will to be found, and, as yet, the very name of the lawyer was unknown to me, nor did I know where he lived, nor what was his name.

Death had come all unawares to my father. As I looked at him, dead in his chair, he seemed asleep, and as if all lines of care had been smoothed from his brow, and, to judge by the sweetness of his mouth, all bitterness from his heart. "It is a marvel to me," Patience said, "that the master should leave you thus ; and where is the money to come from ? You can't live on nothing ; and there's the funeral to pay for, and your black cloak, and what not. It is mighty strange, and I can't understand it." — ALONE. 9 Neither could I understand it, except that it was on a piece with my father's temper. He had struggled and fought in his earlier years, and he had been worsted in the strife. A lethargy had crept over him ; he was as a man who had laid down his armour — not as the victor, but as the vanquished one lays it down, and there was for him no future in this world — nought to strive for, nought to hope for, nought to expect.

He was a sine scholar, and he left me the in heritance of perhaps more learning than many a maiden of the time. Above all, he had made me well versed in Holy Scripture : and he would make me recite what he truly called the great poems of the Bible, more especially the grand strains of the prophets, and the utterances of the Apostle Paul. Of doctrine my father said little, save to tell me I was a baptized member of the Church, but we never attended any place of worship. There were meeting-houses at Southtown and at Great Yarmouth, and now in the year 1694 the perse cutions of those who did not conform to the Estab lished Church were over. They were not driven to holes and corners and hunted down as in times lately passed. But neither to chapel, meeting-house, nor church did I go, and I was now7 sixteen years old Once or twice, when on our rare shopping ex peditions to the Rows in Yarmouth, I had begged Patience to let me go inside the big Church of St. Nicholas : and on one of these occasions the sound of an organ and the voices of those who were singing — ALONE. 11 thrilled through me with a sense of newness which those to whom such strains are common and frequent can little understand.

A new world opened for me that day, and I never, in my advanced age, hear those words sung but I am once more little Albinia Ellis, holding Patience Ringer's hand, and looking up at the vaulted roof above my head as the words seemed wafted to heaven by the strains of music : " I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the House of the Lord." I remember I asked my father why we never went to church. His answer was to make me look up the story of Jacob's dream in the Bible and read it to him ; then to turn to the Acts of the Apostles, and read there the words, " He liveth not in temples made with hands ; " " For in Him we live and move and have our being." " Jacob found the House of God in the wilderness, and the Gate of Heaven opened for him there. Let that suffice, Albinia ; nor think that we can only seek and find Him in the surroundings of stone walls and ceilinged roofs."

These words made a deep impression on me. I did not then see a flaw in the reasoning. Yet when I heard the church bells chiming on Sunday morn ings, I used to long to go to the House of the Lord rather than down to the shore (lonely in these parts, except for a few fisherboys with nets cast for the small fish or shrimps, which at low tide are numerous on this coast) to listen to the voice of the great sea, and to muse and dream as only solitary children like me can dream. I came down clad in my heavy sombre garments that summer morning, feeling strangely desolate, as I saw my father's empty chair, with his books on the top of the bureau hard by, where I had often seen him stow away papers and lock them safely in their hiding-place. Patience came in and out that day, and asked again and again — " Have you found nought ?

"What can I find ? " I answered. " Well, sure, there's a document somewhere, child. There, I've my savings ; you shall have 'em. They are all in the old chany pot in my chamber which your blessed grandmother gave me, putting in the first few pence herself. But that money won't last for ever, and then what's to happen ? " " I do not know," I said hopelessly. " Oh, dear Patience, let it rest to-day." " Let it rest ! Now you mustn't be like your poor father. He was always drifting, like a bit of timber — ALONE. 13 of a wreck. I've watched such bits many a time drifting to shore — carried out again — drifting Yarmouth way, then Southtown way, and never getting to shore. Drifting is no good, Albinia. Things don't drop down from the skies into the laps of them who sit gaping for them. It's to be up and doing that's wanted.

Here are you, at sixteen, and sharp and learned, and as pretty a maid as one can see." " Oh ! prythee, stop, Patience," I said. " This very morning you told me to bide in bed, for there was nought to do, and now you come and tell me to be up and doing. Peace, I pray you, Patience, for one day — one more day — and then " Poor Patience burst into hard sobbing. "My poor lamb!" she said. "I am just ready to lose my senses when I think of you. The lawyer's name must be somewhere ; it can't be lost ; and we must forage amongst the rubbish till we find it. I've a thought. I'll go to the minister who buried the dear master, or to Master Wood, in Broad Row, who made the coffin, and ask them what's to be done. The minister spoke kind enow to you yesterday, and says he to me, ' Has the poor chief mourner no kindred ? ' and says I to him, ' Not a soul, sir ; she is alone in the world.' And says he, ' Poor child ! ' Yes, I declare I'll go and tell him the truth, and mayhap he'll come along and see you."

" I don't want him to come. Wait, wait, Patience," I cried, "and I will think what it is best to do. Dear Patience, I've got_jw/." "Yes, you've got an old woman over threescore, — ALONE. 15 and she'd work herself to skin and bone for your sake, but what's that ? " And refusing to take comfort, with another out burst of weeping, Patience left me to my meditations.

Chapter II. The Protector's Grandchild

SOME days went on, and, amongst all the multitude of my father's papers, there was not a single direction by which I could find out the name of the gentleman who had, as my father had told me, his last will and testament in his possession. The question of how I was to get my bread began, as days went on, to press on me. It is true, in the tin box where my father kept the coins which he disbursed to Patience to meet the demands of our frugal manner of life there were a few left ; but how was I to obtain more when these were spent? One night, as I was getting ready to go to bed, I heard a loud knocking at the door, and a yet louder voice for admittance. Patience met me at the top of the stairs in her nightcap and short gown, which displayed her feet thrust into a large pair of woollen shoes.

" Dear heart ! who can this be ? " she exclaimed. The knocking continued, and the voice kept up the demand — "Open the door, you lazy folk; a-bed at ten o'clock ? Open the door." Patience had now opened the casement of my chamber, and thrust out her head. " Dear heart, child ! I vow it's Mistress Bendysh, of the Salt Pans, a grand lady. I know her by what folks tell me." Then the voice below thundered forth — " Am I to stand here till the morrow ? I am come to see a child who is an orphan — one Albinia Ellis." " Let her in, Patience," I exclaimed ; " let her in I've heard my father speak of her." " Ay, and you've seen her here, riding on her nag or driving home in a high chay." While Patience went down the stairs with a heavy tread, I again donned my kirtle, and tied the black snood which I had loosened, upon my head, and went into the parlour.

The oil lamp hanging over the chair by the bureau where my father used to sit had been put out, and Patience was striking a light to rekindle it. It would have been pitch-dark, for the shutters were closed and barred, had it not been c MEETING OF MRS. BENDYSH AND ALBINIA. for a lanthorn which stood on the floor, and sent a narrow stream of light across it to the place where a large figure was standing. "Are you Albinia Ellis, prythee?" came in a ringing but not unmusical voice from the tall figure, which I could but scarcely discern. "Yes, madam," I said. I felt full of fear and something like awe as the figure advanced towards me, and said — " I am Bridget Bendysh, grand-daughter of the great Protector Cromwell, and wife of Master Thomas Bendysh. Child, do you take in who I am, and in what rank I stand, eh?"

"Yes, madam," I replied, in a faint voice, and made a profound curtsey. " Ay, that is well. I demand and look for respect, for the sake of him who was greater than any crowned king of the earth." Patience had kindled the lamp now, and the light fell full on the face of Mistress Bridget Bendysh. I thought then, and I think now, as I see it through the mists of years, that such a face is but rarely seen. It was surrounded by a black kerchief, formed into a hood, and knotted under the chin. Mistress Bendysh's eyes were keen, and they seemed to look through me as she raised my chin with one of her large hands and peered down into my face. Her mouth had a certain sweetness in its line, though the lips were so firmly shut, and determination and courage were written there. Her figure was large and burly, and she held herself erect, her head a little thrown back ; indeed, her whole bearing bespoke resolution and entire self dependence.

I could not, on this our first meeting, have given the impression thus left on me in so many words ; but all that I knew afterwards of the grandchild of the Protector Cromwell confirms this description of her outward manner as a sign of her character. " Well, now," she said ; " I have come to find out if there is aught I can do for the child of as feckless a man as ever trod the earth — Samson Ellis, your father. I could laugh to think he had such a name ; forsooth, he was anything but a Samson ! " " Madam ! " I began, for it went to my heart to hear my father thus spoken of—" Madam, my father was good to me, and " " There, there, child,"— for my voice faltered, and I was near bursting into tears — " don't fret. I mean nought but kindness to you, or your father ; but he would none of me, and it was not for me, the Protector's grand-daughter, to hold converse with one from whom I differed so widely."

Mistress Bendysh had sat down in my father's chair, which creaked under her weight. Then she proceeded to look round the room, and cast her eye over the shelves of great volumes which were ranged round it. " Doubtful books, I'll warrant," she said. " But let us come to the point. Has your father left you enough to keep soul and body together ? Where is his last will and testament ? " " That, madam," I said, " I know not. That is to say, I know that it is in the keeping of a gentleman of the law in London, but what his name, or where to find him, I know not. I have searched in all the places for some paper giving the name of this gentle man, but in vain." "A pretty business ! Well, when the time comes round for the money to be paid, you will hear about it. How often did it come?" " Once a year, madam," Patience now ventured to say ; " in the month of January.

I know this, because I always took the packet from the gentleman who brought it from London. The master used to pay carriage for it, and bid me let the bearer have a cup of ale, while he made ready a letter which was to say he had gotten it safe and secure." " Were you blind that you couldn't read the name on that letter ? " " No, madam ; my eyes, thank God, are good." Patience looked grievously offended, and I hastened to say — " My good serving-maid, madam, cannot read except very clear-printed words." " Oh ! that's it, is it ? Well, what was done with this year's money, child ? " " Part was put in a box which Patience kept to pay for food and clothes. I know the rest was put away. I cannot find it, and I think if I could happen on it, I should there discover the name of the lawyer in London."

" It's an odd business," Mistress Bendysh said. " This is June, and no more money coming till January. Are you going to live on air till then ? " " We have a little store left, madam ; but scarce enough to pay the undertaker." Patience here broke forth again — " I have my savings, and I know how to make a groat go as far as some folks make a penny, and this dear lamb is welcome to them, and to share and share alike, till such time as the Lord is pleased to send her what is her due." " You are a well-meaning woman," Mistress Bendysh said. " But now to business. The Lord has blessed me with a moderate competence, and I have a large house, where there is food for the body in abundance and food for the soul in good measure. I bid you, Albinia Ellis, to come thither as soon as may be, and I will board and lodge you.