CHAPTER CCXIII.
[Chapter 230]
VARNEY GIVES SOME PERSONAL ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF.
Never had Mr. Bevan in all his recollection been in such a state of
hesitation as now.
He was a man usually of rapid resolves, and very energetic action; but
the circumstances that had recently taken place were of so very remarkable a
nature, that he was not able to bring to bear upon them any [po]rtion of his
past experience.
He felt that he could come to no determination, but was compelled by the
irresistible force of events to be a spectator instead of an actor in what
might ensue.
"I shall hear," he thought, "if any such event happens at Naples as that
to which Varney has adverted, and until I do so, or until a sufficient length
of time has elapsed to make me feel certain that he will not plunge into that
burning abyss, I shall be a prey to every kind of fear; and then again as
regards Sir George Crofton. What am I to say to him? Shall I show him this
note or not?"
Even that was a question which he could not absolutely decide in his own
mind, although he was strongly inclined to think that it would be highly
desirable to do so, and while he was considering the point, and holding the
note in his hand, his eye fell upon the other papers which had been enclosed
with it, and addressed to him.
Hoping and expecting that there he should find something that would
better qualify him to come to an accurate conclusion, he took up the packet,
and found that the topmost paper bore the following endorsement: —
"SOME PARTICULARS CONCERNING MY OWN LIFE."
"There, then," said Mr. Bevan, "is [w]hat he has promised me."
It was to be expected that Mr. Bevan should take up those papers with a
very considerable amount of curiosity, and as he could not think what course
immediately to pursue that would do good to Varney or anybody else, he thought
he had better turn his attention at once to the documents that the vampyre had
left to his perusal.
Telling his servant, then, not to allow him to be disturbed unless the
affair was a very urgent one indeed, he closed the door of his study, and
commenced reading one of the most singular statements that ever created being
placed upon paper. It was as follows: —
* * * * *
During my brief intercourse —and it has always been brief when of a
confidential nature with various persons —I have created surprise by talking
of individuals and events long since swallowed up in the almost forgotten
past. In these few pages I declare myself more fully.
In the reign of the First Charles, I resided in a narrow street, in the
immediate neighbourhood of Whitehall. It was a straggling, tortuous
thoroughfare, going down to the Thames; it matters little what were my means
of livelihood, but I have no hesitation in saying that I was a well-paid agent
in some of the political movements which graced and disgraced that period.
London was then a mass of mean-looking houses; with here and there one
that looked like a palace, compared with its humbler neighbours. Almost every
street appeared to be under the protection of some great house situated
somewhere in its extent, but such of those houses as have survived the wreck
of time rank now with their neighbours, and are so strangely altered, that I,
who knew many of them well, could now scarcely point to the place where they
used to stand.
I took no prominent part in the commotions of that period, but I saw the
head of a king held up in its gore at Whitehall as a spectacle for the
multitude.
There were thousands of persons in England who had aided to bring about
that result, but who were very far from expecting it, and who were the first
to fall under the ban of the gigantic power they had themselves raised.
Among these were many of my employers; men, who had been quite willing to
shake the stability of a throne so far as the individual occupying it was
concerned; but who certainly never contemplated the destruction of monarchy;
so the death of the First Charles, and the dictatorship of Cromwell, made
royalists in abundance.
They had raised a spirit they could not quell again, and this was a fact
which the stern, harsh man, Cromwell, with whom I had many interviews, was
aware of.
My house was admirably adapted for the purposes of secrecy and seclusion,
and I became a thriving man from the large sums I received for aiding the
escape of distinguished loyalists, some of whom lay for a considerable time
perdu at my house, before an eligible opportunity arrived of dropping down
the river quietly to some vessel which would take them to Holland.
It was to offer me so much per head for these royalists that Cromwell
sent for me, and there was one in particular who had been private secretary to
the Duke of Cleveland, a young man merely, of neither family nor rank, but of
great ability, whom Cromwell was exceedingly anxious to capture.
I think there likewise must have been some private reasons which induced
the dictator of the Commonwealth to be so anxious concerning this Master
Francis Latham, which was the name of the person alluded to.
It was late one evening when a stranger came to my house, and having
desired to see me, was shown into a private apartment, when I immediately
waited upon him.
"I am aware," he said, "that you have been confidentially employed by the
Duke of Cleveland, and I am aware that you have been very useful to distressed
loyalists, but in aiding Master Francis Latham, the duke's secretary, you will
be permitted almost to name your own terms."
I named a hundred pounds, which at that time was a much larger sum than
now, taking into consideration the relative value. One half of it was paid to
me at once, and the other promised within four-and-twenty hours after Latham
had effected his escape.
I was told that at half-past twelve o'clock that night, a man dressed in
common working apparel, and with a broom over his shoulder would knock at my
door and ask if he could be recommended to a lodging, and that by those tokens
I should know him to be Francis Latham. A Dutch lugger, I was further told,
was lying near Gravesend, on board of which, to earn my money, I was expected
to place the fugitive.
All this was duly agreed upon; I had a boat in readiness, with a couple
of watermen upon whom I could depend, and I was far from anticipating any
extraordinary difficulties in carrying out the enterprise.
I had a son about twelve years of age, who being a sharp acute lad, I
found very useful upon several occasions, and I never scrupled to make him
acquainted with any such affair as this that I am recounting.
Half-past twelve o'clock came, and in a very few minutes after that
period of time there came a knock at my door, which my son answered, and
according to arrangement, there was the person with a broom, who asked to be
recommended to a lodging, and who was immediately requested to walk in.
He seemed rather nervous, and asked me if I thought there was much risk.
"No," said I, "no more than ordinary risk in all these cases, but we must
wait half an hour 'till the tide turns. For just now to struggle against it
down the river would really be nothing else but courting observation."
To this he perfectly agreed, and sat down by my fireside.
I was as anxious as he to get the affair over, for it was a ticklish job,
and Oliver Cromwell, if he had brought anything of the kind exactly home to
me, would as life order me to be shot as he would have taken his luncheon in
the name of the Lord.
I accordingly went down to the water-side to speak to the men who were
lying there with the boat, and had ascertained from them that in about twenty
minutes the tide would begin to ebb in the centre of the stream, when two men
confronted me.
Practised as I was in the habits and appearances of the times, I guessed
at once who they were. In fact, a couple of Oliver Cromwell's dismounted
dragoons were always well known.
"You are wanted," said one of them to [me."]
"Yes, you are particularly wanted," said the other.
"But, gentlemen, I am rather busy," said I. "In an hour's time I will do
myself the pleasure, if you please, of waiting upon you anywhere you wish to
name."
The only reply they made to this was the practical one, of getting on
each side of me, and then hurrying me on, past my own door.
I was taken right away to St. James's at a rapid pace, being hurried
through one of the court yards; we paused at a small door, at which was a
sentinel.
My two guides communicated something to him, and he allowed us to pass.
There was a narrow passage without any light, and through another door, at
which was likewise a sentinel, who turned the glare of a lantern upon me and
my conductors. Some short explanation was given to him likewise, during which
I heard the words His Highness, which was the title which Cromwell had lately
assumed.
They pushed me through this doorway, closed it behind me, and left me
alone in the dark.
—