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which was soon again to be overclouded. At this time the news reached her of the death of her second son, and shortly after Cromwell landed in Ireland, and commenced his hot march through the country. Prince Rupert's fleet was forced to set sail, and the money which was to have assisted the king-a large sum, it was said—went to the bottom, with Prince Maurice. Mr. Fanshawe had to wait in Ireland, however, for his master's commands; and while be was absent at Kinsale, leaving his wife at Cork, another of those strange and perilous adventures befell her which impart so vivid an interest to her memoirs, and exhibit her strength of character in so striking a light. She had been ill of a fall from her borse, and was in great pain from an ill-set wrist, when, as she lay in bed in the middle of the night, the booming of heavy guns reached her, mingled with shrieks of men, women, and children. Cork had risen to join the side of the Protector; and on her asking from her window what had occurred, she was informed that Colonel Jeffries had taken possession of the town for Cromwell. Her first thought was to send a letter to ber husband, apprising him of the event, and bidding him be patient and hopeful, as she would contrive to join him. The letter was sent by a trusty messenger, who managed to get away unobserved. Mrs. Fanshawe then packed up her husband's papers and money, and whatever valuable property she could take with her, and went at three in the morning by the light of a taper into the market-place, suffering all the time acute pain. A man and a maid accompanied her, and she had to make her way through a crowd of rough soldiery with their swords in their hands, until she reached their chief commander, Colonel Jeffries, who owed some gratitude to her husband. Fortunately she met with the return she had counted on, and obtained at once a pass for herself and family; with which, hiring a cart for her property from a neighbour, she, at five in the morning, set forth to Kinsale, a journey of ten miles. Her fears lest she should be overtaken and brought back lasted till she found herself safe in the garrison. That she should have escaped thus easily seems indeed wonderful, as the papers she had with her of her husband were known to be of the highest value. On hearing of the blunder his officer had committed, Cromwell is said to have exclaimed, “It was as much worth to have seized his papers as the town; for I did make account to have known by them what these parts of the country are worth.”

Mr. Fanshawe now received orders to go to Spain with letters from the king to Philip IV. The port they sailed from was Galway. On their way thither they slept at the mansion of a Lady Honor O'Brien, and here occurred the supernatural incident already alluded to. While lying in a chamber of this house, Mrs. Fanshawe relates, about one o'clock she was awakened by a voice, and drew the curtain, when, in the casement of the window, she saw by the light of the moon a woman leaning into the room, dressed in white, with red hair, and a pale, ghastly complexion. She spoke loud, and in a strange tone called out thrice, “A horse!" and then, with a sigh more like the wind than breath, vanished, her body seeming more like a thick cloud than substance. Mrs. Fanshawe's hair, she tells us, stood on end with fright, as well it might, and her night-clothes fell off her with the quaking of her body. Her next action was equally natural, for it was to pull and pinch her spouse, who lay unconscious by her side, till he awoke, and to endeavour to frighten him as badly as herself by describing the apparition. Early in the morning the lady of the house appeared, and informing them that a cousin of hers had died in the night, hoped they had not been disturbed, as it was the custom of the place when any of the family were dying for the shape of a woman to appear at the window till they were dead. She added, that the woman was many ages ago murdered by a man who had seduced her, and flung her into the river under the window. This apparition, it will be seen, is a cross between the well-known “ banshee" of Ireland and the departed spirit haunting the scene of some crime. Whether it was the coincidence of a dream with a family tradition or not, the story is worth telling; and its terrors are relieved by the dry humour of the hostess's apology for forgetting to tell them of the ghost.

It was on the passage from Galway to Spain that the incident in Lady Fanshawe's life occurred which has been so often told, though seldom correctly, when she assumed the garb of a sailor, that she might be on deck with her husband during an engagement with another vessel. The captain of the ship they sailed by was a Dutchman, who is shortly characterised as “truly the greatest beast” the memoir-writer ever saw of his kind. A Turkish galley, well manned, came in sight, and it appeared likely they might be taken and sold as slaves, for the Dutch skipper had so laden the ship that her guns, of which she had sixty, were useless. The Dutchman, however, having screwed up his courage, according to the manner of his countrymen, by deep potations, piped all hands, amounting to nearly two hundred, and cleared the decks for action, resolving to fight for his cargo. The women were strictly enjoined to keep below, that the Turk might imagine their vessel was a man-of-war. Mr. Fanshawe armed himself, and awaited with the rest the approach of the enemy, while his wife was locked in her cabin by “that beast" the captain, and knocked in vain to be let out, till at last a cabin-boy, moved by her tears and half-a-crown, lent her his “blue thrum cap” and “tarred coat," attired in which she crept up softly, and stood upon the deck by her busband's side, “as free from sickness and fear,” she writes, “as, I confess, from discretion, but it was the effect of that passion which I could never master.” The alarm, however, proved a false one. The Turk, deeming the other vessel too well prepared, tacked about, and they continued their course unmolested.

Mr. Fanshawe's mission to Spain, which was to obtain a supply of money from the court for the support of the king's cause, having failed, they reëmbarked at St. Sebastian for France; and, as though danger was ever to beset them, they met with a violent storm in the Bay of Biscay, which lasted two days and two nights, and when a calm succeeded it was

discovered that in the confusion they had lost their compass. At last their vessel ran aground; but they were enabled to land, and found themselves about two leagues from Nantz. They made their way to Paris, and, after visiting the queen-mother, proceeded to Calais, whence Mrs. Fanshawe was again sent to London to procure money. It should be here mentioned that it was on the 2d of September in this year (1650) that Mr. Fanshawe was created a baronet, though no other allusion is made to the fact in Lady Fansbawe's memoir than a notice of bis having left the patent in Scotland before the Battle of Worcester. While Lady Fanshawe continued still in London, her husband was sent for into Scotland, where he was received by the king with “great expressions of great content,” and recommended by him to the York party, who gave him the custody of the Great Seal and Privy Signet. Several times he was pressed to take the covenant, but steadily refused, and continued to perform the duties of his office with such diligence and temper as to gain the regard and confidence of all parties. He had written to Lady Fanshawe to arm herself with patience, as he should not be able to give her frequent tidings of himself; and her mind was thus left a prey to continued anxiety on his account, as she received many private tidings of party strife and animosities in Scotland. In June, she was delivered of a daughter; and on the 2d of September following was fought the Battle of Worcester, the news of which reached her while on a visit at her brother-in-law's at Ware Park. For three days she was in the most agonising suspense, not knowing what fate had befallen Sir Richard, until the “news-book” came, stating that he was a prisoner. Lady Fanshawe hastened to London, in the hopes that she might there see him. On her arrival, a messenger brought a letter advising her of Sir Richard's condition, telling her that he was very civilly treated, and that if she came to some room in Charing Cross his keeper had promised that he should rest there in her company at dinner-time. On the day appointed Lady Fanshawe was waiting, all impatience, in the room, with her father and some other friends, having prepared a dinner according to directions, when about eleven o'clock hundreds of poor soldiers, English and Scotch, marched by, all with naked feet, and in the midst of them was Sir Richard, "looking very cheerful.” He came into the apartment, and after greeting his wife and friends passed two or three hours at table with them, when he was conveyed to Whitehall and kept a close prisoner there for ten weeks, in constant expectation of death. He was denied all communication with his friends; but Lady Fanshawe contrived to evade the vigilance of his jailors, and conversed daily with him. The little room in which he was confined looked on the bowling-green. “During the time of his imprisonment,” writes this most faithful and devoted of wives, “I failed not constantly to go when the clock struck four in the morning, with a dark lantern in my band, all alone and on foot, from my lodging in Chancery Lane at my cousin Young's, to Whitehall, in at the entry that went out of King Street into the bowling-green. There I would go under his window and softly call him; he, after the first time excepted, never failed to put out his head at the first call; thus we talked together, and sometimes I was so wet with rain that it went in at my neck and out at my heels." At these interviews Sir Richard directed his wife how she should address Cromwell to obtain his liberty. The cold, and the hard marches he had undergone, had terribly reduced his strength, and the closeness of his imprisonment brought on scurvy. Cromwell, one day that Lady Fanshawe solicited him on behalf of her husband, for whom, she says, he had a great regard, desired her to come on the morrow with a certificate from a physician vouching that he was really ill. This was procured, and Cromwell the next day at the council-board moved, that as his imprisonment was of no use “to lighten them in their business," he should be set at liberty upon bail for 40001. The proposal met with much opposition, particularly from Sir Harry Vane, who said that for aught he knew Sir Richard might be instrumental to hang them all if ever he had opportunity, and urged that he should take the engagement before he went out. Upon this Cromwell said, “I never knew that the engagement was a medicine for the scorbutic;" and believing by this speech that their general was personally interested in the matter, the council yielded.

Passing over an interval of six years, during which Sir Richard and his wife lived in great retirement, partly in London and partly in the country, we will take up the thread of their history at Cromwell's death, the news of which brought them to town, in the hope Sir Richard might get released from his bail by the government. In this he succeeded, on pretence of accompanying Lord Pembroke's son to France as his travelling tutor. From Paris he wrote to Lord Clarendon to communicate the circumstance of his escape to the king, and was shortly afterwards informed that Charles was going to Spain, but that he should join him on his return : in the mean time he received the appointment of one of the Masters of Requests, and Latin Secretary. Lady Fanshawe was now sent for to join her husband in Paris. But this was more easily said than done; for, on applying for a pass, she was informed that her husband had got his liberty by a trick, and on no conditions would she and her children be allowed to stir. But we have seen that they had to do with a lady who was not to be abashed by difficulties, though apparently ever so overwhelming. Her daring and ingenuity were awakened after the first blow of disappointment by the reflection, that if she could contrive to get on board a vessel at once she might reach her destination before her fight was suspected, but that if she tarried the obstacles would increase. Taking a glance at the situation, therefore, with the eye of a general, she proceeded to put her stratagem into immediate execution. The passes were delivered at Wallingford House, and thither she repaired, leaving her maid at the gate, who was a “much finer gentlewoman” than berself; and it was her intention to pass for a person in the humbler ranks of life. Assuming as vulgar a tone and manner as she could, Lady Fanshawe asked one of the men in the office for a pass to go to her husband in Paris.

“ Woman, what is your husband and your name?" she was asked; and replied, making many curtsies,

“Sir, he is a young merchant, and my name is Anne Harrison.”

She was then told it would cost her a crown. To which she answered, it was a great sum for her, but would they put in a man, her maid, and three children? This was done ; and a pass was handed to her with the observation, that a malignant would give five pounds for such a pass. Thanking the man, she hastened to her lodgings, and proceeded to operate upon the document after the following fashion:

“With my pen I made the great H of Harrison two f's, and the per's an n, and the i ans, and the s an h, and the o an a, and the n a w, so completely that none could find out the change.”

When she got to Dover, and presented this pass to the searchers, one of them said,

“Madam, you may go when you please ; but I little thought they would give a pass to so great a malignant, especially in so tronblesome a time as this."

Charles came to Combes, near Paris, to visit his mother; and here Lady Fanshawe and her husband had an interview with him, and received the most gracious promises of protection, should it please God to restore him to his kingdom. Another journey to London followed, in search of money to enable her husband to join the king in Flanders. Soon afterwards, Lady Fanshawe followed Sir Richard to Newport, Bruges, Ghent, and Brussels, where they stayed three weeks, and were very kindly treated by the royal family, then residing there. From Brussels they went to Breda, and heard the happy news of the Restoration. At Breda Sir Richard Fanshawe received the order of knighthood, but no mention is made in the memoir of this fact, which is mentioned in the Biographica Britannica. While at the Hague, Charles promised Sir Richard, in return for all his sufferings and fidelity, that he should be one of the secretaries of state; but we are told that through the machinations of " that false man,” Lord Clarendon, the king's word was never kept. It is also attributed by Lady Fanshawe to the jealousy of the same personage, and his desire to remove Sir Richard from the king's person, that he was sent to Portugal to negotiate the marriage with Princess Katharine, to whom he was charged to present the king's picture; but such an appointment ought, it would seem, to be regarded rather as a strong proof of the confidence placed in his discretion and ability. He returned from this mission in December, and on the queen's arrival at Portsmouth was sent for to receive her. Sir Richard and Lady Fanshawe were present at her marriage, and the description she has given of the ceremony is one of those valuable contributions to the truth of history to which allusion was made at the commencement of this Paper. According to Bishop Burnet's account, the king met the queen at Winchester, and the Archbishop of Canterbury went to perform the ceremony; and he further relates, that the queen was so bigoted, she would not pronounce the

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