Great Britain -- History -- Restoration, 1660-1688 -- Fiction
Which words, calling to my mind how I was habited, and the whole
memory therewith of the part I played, did somehow stiffen my courage
and arouse my spirit, so that I said, with what of hardihood I could
bring into the words: "Indeed, I ask your pardon, gentlemen all. 'T
was the fatigue, I do suppose, of riding fifteen miles at such a
pace, and to the back of that my great fear for the life and welfare
of His Highness of Orange. I pray you, tell me," I continued,
looking round among the company, "whether His Highness be unhurt?"
And then one came from behind me, and spoke to me in that same voice
that had but now pitied me in the French idiom for my first sight of
blood-shedding. And when I saw him I knew him for the great Prince I
had ridden to defend. This time, however, he spoke in English, using
that language certainly with little ease and frequent errors, which
yet I shall make no essay to reproduce in this my narrative, lest I
should thereby bring something of ridicule into an address ever
princely and dignified, and, on this occasion at least, full of grace
and courtesy. Much, I know, has been said and written of the
harshness of his manner, the bitterness of his tongue, and even of a
certain Dutch boorishness in behavior, of all which I saw nothing at
our first meeting.
Three months later, when our troubles were well past, Mr. William
Bentinck did tell me one afternoon that we walked in St. James's
Park, how to this great but somewhat phlegmatic nature the excitement
of danger was a kind of stimulant necessary to the bringing forward
the lighter and most pleasing qualities of his character; that he had
never seen him gayer, more kindly, nor lighter of heart and
countenance than in the press of a losing fight, himself dismounted
and fighting hand to hand with an advancing enemy, merrily jesting
the while his left hand wielded with deadly effect the sword that his
right arm was too sore hurt to hold. And I do suppose it was to this
quality in him that I owed the sweet and noble charm of his first
reception of me.
"Young gentleman," said His Highness, stretching out to me his hand,
"it seems that I owe my health and perhaps my life to your timely
presence and your sword." And I, here falling upon one knee to
receive and kiss his hand, perceived that in my right I still held
the hilt of Rupert's toledo, with the three inches of blade that
remained to it. "And I hope," continued His Highness, as I let it
fall upon the grass, "that the sword has taken all the hurt to
itself."
"I thank Your Highness," I answered, as I rose, "I have taken indeed
no hurt at all, and should ask your pardon for so unsoldierly
swooning in your presence. But indeed 't is the first time I have
seen sword drawn in anger, and I had ridden near fifteen miles at
extreme speed to warn Your Highness of the plot that was toward."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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