The MS. in a Red BoxHamilton, John A. (John Arthur)
History
The MS. in a Red Box
Hamilton, John A. (John Arthur)
Axholme, Isle of (England) -- History -- Fiction
Late in the evening he gave to Mr. Butharwick and me an account of what
he had done to get the decision of the judges put in force against
Vermuijden, but all in vain. At length he determined to appeal to the
King himself, whose will made null and void the sentence of the law.
He bribed some of his Majesty's attendants heavily, but could not for a
long time obtain audience. The King was in such anxiety and excitement
about the Queen's French servants, of whom he greatly desired to be
rid, and to have them sent back to their own country, that he could
think or hear of nothing else, unless it were of some means of laying
hands on money, which he wanted sorely. So the courtiers and servants
said. Nevertheless, my father followed the King, who was exceedingly
restless, from one place to another, seeking a favourable occasion, and
at last found it in a village near Cambridge. One of the King's
gentlemen, who had taken my father's money, came to him at his lodging,
reporting his Majesty to be in better humour that evening, having had
from his Grace of Buckingham a letter which satisfied him the mounseers
would soon be packed off to France. Seeing him in this temper, the
gentleman had presented my father's petition, which the King had read,
and then signified that the petitioner might be admitted to his chamber.
"But as soon as I came into the King's presence," said my father, "I
knew, by the scowl on his face, my plea had no chance of success. He
did not condescend to speak to me until he had told his people I was
from Lincolnshire, which Henry VIII. had declared the most disloyal
county in England, which condemnation was justified in his own
experience. And of this rebellious county, the worst part was the Isle
of Axholme, where one of his commissioners had been vilely used of
late. Then he went on to say that in his care for his subjects in that
barbarous corner of his dominions, he had authorized a scheme for
reclaiming many acres of soil now under water, and, pointing to me, he
said, 'This fellow has dared to defy his King by opposing our gracious
purpose, setting forth I know not what legal quibbles in the courts of
law; and when he fails in his rebellious design, actually has the
audacity to approach us in person.' Then he tore up the paper and
threw it into the fire, and turned to me, saying, 'Go to the devil, and
thank your stars you are not helped thither by a sword through your
body.' Whereupon I was jostled out of the sacred presence."
After Mr. Butharwick had retired, my father opened out to me on the
state of our affairs, and in a strain altogether new. The change was
so great as to make me afraid of I hardly knew what. He, who was used
to speak and act with so much resolution and masterfulness, now
lamented his unwisdom in taking upon him the burdensome charge of the
"solicitorship," and accused himself of wronging me thereby. I could
scarcely believe my ears, and doubted whether I was awake or dreaming.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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