Arthur Blane; or, The Hundred Cuirassiers — John Shaqi
Arthur Blane; or, The Hundred CuirassiersGrant, James
History
Arthur Blane; or, The Hundred Cuirassiers
Grant, James
France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction
'Because, madame, the proposed tragedy went no further than this
terrible tableau; for the Earl of Nithsdale had learned something of
what was awaiting him and other friends of our alien king; and after
proceeding with the usual business of the parliament, he closed it
abruptly, without producing the letter of revocation which would have
plunged all Scotland into civil war; and after despatching messengers
into Nithsdale, he returned--yea almost fled--to the court at London.'
'What meant the messengers?'
'You shall hear,' said I, making a violent effort to control the rage
and grief that swelled in my breast; 'within a week after the closing
of parliament my poor father was found dead on the verge of
Lochar-moss--pierced by three balls from an arquebuse; and on that
night our tower of Blanerne was burned to the ground, and all the
country around it made desolate by six hundred mosstroopers of the
Maxwell clan. Breaking through them sword in hand, after seeing my
only living relative, a boy-brother about six years old, perish in
the flames, I reached Edinburgh to lay my complaints before the
authorities, but found them all the creatures of the king--a king
Scottish by birth and blood, but English by breeding, residence, and
sympathy! Oh cursed be the hour when Scotland gave a king unto her
enemies! I appealed to the Secretary of State, but he was my good
Lord Nithsdale's fast friend and near kinsman, so he smiled in my
face. I appealed to the Lord Advocate; he was my Lord Dumfries'
cousin, and bade me complain to the king in London. Being a placeman
and a coward, he taunted my murdered father's memory; so I smote him
on the mouth with my sword-hilt--yea, smote him down as I would have
done a dog, and had again to fly. Destruction and pursuit dogged me
close; but aided by the kind old Duke of Lennox, a kinsman of my
mother, I obtained the letter which you hold and also shipping to
Havre. There I landed safely, and found lodging with a countryman of
my own, an honest vintner, who met me wandering sadly and
irresolutely from street to street. He accosted me, as Scotsmen
always greet each other in a foreign land, for his heart warmed to
the St. Andrew's cross in my bonnet--and he was more than kind to me.
I then took the public messenger to Paris, agreeing for fifteen
francs to have a horse, lodgings, and food on the way; but I had to
give the conductor a piece of thirteen sols. I reached Paris only
last night, when an honest fellow, who proved to be an Englishman and
a Protestant, guided me to an hotel, the Golden Fleur-de-lys in the
Rue d'Ecosse. I spent the next day in wandering about the palace and
gardens of the Luxembourg and the royal library, seeing the books of
miniatures done by Monsieur Robert, the garden of the Tuileries, and
the church of Notre Dame, the two massy towers, the antiquity and
gloom of which charmed and soothed me; but alas, madame! I felt
lonely and sad amid the roar and bustle of this vast and crowded
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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