While kings and men were thus occupied with England, whichgoverned itself quite alone, and which, it must be said inits praise, had never been so badly governed, a man uponwhom God had fixed his eye, and placed his finger, a manpredestined to write his name in brilliant letters upon thepage of history, was pursuing in the face of the world awork full of mystery and audacity. He went on, and no oneknew whither he meant to go, although not only England, butFrance, and Europe, watched him marching with a firm stepand head held high. All that was known of this man we areabout to tell.

Monk had just declared himself in favor of the liberty ofthe Rump Parliament, a parliament which General Lambert,imitating Cromwell, whose lieutenant he had been, had justblocked up so closely, in order to bring it to his will,that no member, during all the blockade, was able to go out,and only one, Peter Wentworth, had been able to get in.

Lambert and Monk - everything was summed up in these twomen; the first representing military despotism, the secondpure republicanism. These men were the two sole politicalrepresentatives of that revolution in which Charles I. hadfirst lost his crown, and afterwards his head. As regardedLambert, he did not dissemble his views; he sought toestablish a military government, and to be himself the headof that government.

Monk, a rigid republican, some said, wished to maintain theRump Parliament, that visible though degeneratedrepresentative of the republic. Monk, artful and ambitious,said others, wished simply to make of this parliament, whichhe affected to protect, a solid step by which to mount thethrone which Cromwell had left empty, but upon which he hadnever dared to take his seat.

Thus Lambert by persecuting the parliament, and Monk bydeclaring for it, had mutually proclaimed themselves enemiesof each other. Monk and Lambert, therefore, had at firstthought of creating an army each for himself: Monk inScotland, where were the Presbyterians and the royalists,that is to say, the malcontents; Lambert in London, wherewas found, as is always the case, the strongest oppositionto the existing power which it had beneath its eyes.

Monk had pacified Scotland, he had there formed for himselfan army, and found an asylum. The one watched the other.Monk knew that the day was not yet come, the day marked bythe Lord for a great change; his sword, therefore, appearedglued to the sheath. Inexpugnable, in his wild andmountainous Scotland, an absolute general, king of an armyof eleven thousand old soldiers, whom he had more than onceled on to victory; as well informed, nay, even better, ofthe affairs of London, than Lambert, who held garrison inthe city, - such was the position of Monk, when, at ahundred leagues from London, he declared himself for theparliament. Lambert, on the contrary, as we have said, livedin the capital. That was the center of all his operations,and he there collected around him all his friends, and allthe people of the lower class, eternally inclined to cherishthe enemies of constituted power.

It was then in London that Lambert learnt the support that,from the frontiers of Scotland, Monk lent to the parliament.He judged there was no time to be lost, and that the Tweedwas not so far distant from the Thames that an army couldnot march from one river to the other, particularly when itwas well commanded. He knew, besides, that as fast as thesoldiers of Monk penetrated into England, they would form ontheir route that ball of snow, the emblem of the globe offortune, which is for the ambitious nothing but a stepgrowing unceasingly higher to conduct him to his object. Hegot together, therefore, his army, formidable at the sametime for its composition and its numbers, and hastened tomeet Monk, who, on his part, like a prudent navigatorsailing amidst rocks, advanced by very short marches,listening to the reports and scenting the air which camefrom London.

The two armies came in sight of each other near Newcastle,Lambert, arriving first, encamped in the city itself. Monk,always circumspect, stopped where he was, and placed hisgeneral quarters at Coldstream, on the Tweed. The sight ofLambert spread joy through Monk's army, whilst, on thecontrary, the sight of Monk threw disorder into Lambert'sarmy. It might have been thought that these intrepidwarriors, who had made such a noise in the streets ofLondon, had set out with the hopes of meeting no one, andthat now seeing that they had met an army, and that thatarmy hoisted before them not only a standard, but stillfurther, a cause and a principle, - it might have beenbelieved, we say, that these intrepid warriors had begun toreflect, that they were less good republicans than thesoldiers of Monk, since the latter supported the parliament;whilst Lambert supported nothing, not even himself.

As to Monk, if he had had to reflect, or if he did reflect,it must have been after a sad fashion, for history relates- and that modest dame, it is well known, never lies - history relates, that the day of his arrival at Coldstreamsearch was made in vain throughout the place for a singlesheep.

If Monk had commanded an English army, that was enough tohave brought about a general desertion. But it is not withthe Scotch as it is with the English, to whom that fluidflesh which is called blood is a paramount necessity; theScotch, a poor and sober race, live upon a little barleycrushed between two stones, diluted with the water of thefountain, and cooked upon another stone, heated.

The Scotch, their distribution of barley being made, caredvery little whether there was or was not any meat inColdstream. Monk, little accustomed to barley-cakes, washungry, and his staff, at least as hungry as himself, lookedwith anxiety right and left, to know what was being preparedfor supper.

Monk ordered search to be made; his scouts had on arrivingin the place found it deserted and the cupboards empty; uponbutchers and bakers it was of no use depending inColdstream. The smallest morsel of bread, then, could not befound for the general's table.

As accounts succeeded each other, all equallyunsatisfactory, Monk, seeing terror and discouragement uponevery face, declared that he was not hungry; besides theyshould eat on the morrow, since Lambert was there probablywith the intention of giving battle, and consequently wouldgive up his provisions, if he were forced from Newcastle, orforever to relieve Monk's soldiers from hunger if heconquered.

This consolation was only efficacious upon a very smallnumber; but of what importance was it to Monk? for Monk wasvery absolute, under the appearance of the most perfectmildness. Every one, therefore, was obliged to be satisfied,or at least to appear so. Monk quite as hungry as hispeople, but affecting perfect indifference for the absentmutton, cut a fragment of tobacco, half an inch long, fromthe carotte of a sergeant who formed part of his suite, andbegan to masticate the said fragment, assuring hislieutenants that hunger was a chimera, and that, besides,people were never hungry when they had anything to chew.

This joke satisfied some of those who had resisted Monk'sfirst deduction drawn from the neighborhood of Lambert'sarmy; the number of the dissentients diminished greatly; theguard took their posts, the patrols began, and the generalcontinued his frugal repast beneath his open tent.

Between his camp and that of the enemy stood an old abbey,of which, at the present day, there only remain some ruins,but which then was in existence, and was called NewcastleAbbey. It was built upon a vast site, independent at once ofthe plain and of the river, because it was almost a marshfed by springs and kept up by rains. Nevertheless, in themidst of these pools of water, covered with long grass,rushes, and reeds, were seen solid spots of ground, formerlyused as the kitchen-garden, the park, the pleasure-gardens,and other dependencies of the abbey, looking like one ofthose great sea-spiders, whose body is round, whilst theclaws go diverging round from this circumference.

The kitchen-garden, one of the longest claws of the abbey,extended to Monk's camp. Unfortunately it was, as we havesaid, early in June, and the kitchen-garden, beingabandoned, offered no resources.

Monk had ordered this spot to be guarded, as most subject tosurprises. The fires of the enemy's general were plainly tobe perceived on the other side of the abbey. But betweenthese fires and the abbey extended the Tweed, unfolding itsluminous scales beneath the thick shade of tall green oaks.Monk was perfectly well acquainted with this position,Newcastle and its environs having already more than oncebeen his headquarters. He knew that by day his enemy mightwithout doubt throw a few scouts into these ruins andpromote a skirmish, but that by night he would take care toabstain from such a risk. He felt himself, therefore, insecurity.

Thus his soldiers saw him, after what he boastingly calledhis supper - that is to say, after the exercise ofmastication reported by us at the commencement of thischapter - like Napoleon on the eve of Austerlitz, seatedasleep in his rush chair, half beneath the light of hislamp, half beneath the reflection of the moon, commencingits ascent in the heavens, which denoted that it was nearlyhalf past nine in the evening. All at once Monk was rousedfrom his half sleep, fictitious perhaps, by a troop ofsoldiers, who came with joyous cries, and kicked the polesof his tent with a humming noise as if on purpose to wakehim. There was no need of so much noise; the general openedhis eyes quickly.

"Well, my children, what is going on now?" asked thegeneral.

"General!" replied several voices at once, "General! youshall have some supper."

"I have had my supper, gentlemen," replied he, quietly, "andwas comfortably digesting it, as you see. But come in, andtell me what brings you hither."

"Good news, general."

"Bah! Has Lambert sent us word that he will fightto-morrow?"

"No, but we have just captured a fishing-boat conveying fishto Newcastle."

"And you have done very wrong, my friends. These gentlemenfrom London are delicate, must have their first course; youwill put them sadly out of humor this evening, and to-morrowthey will be pitiless. It would really be in good taste tosend back to Lambert both his fish and his fishermen, unless- - " and the general reflected an instant.

"Tell me," continued he, "what are these fishermen, if youplease?"

"Some Picard seamen who were fishing on the coasts of Franceor Holland, and who have been thrown upon ours by a gale ofwind."

"Do any among them speak our language?"

"The leader spoke some few words of English."

The mistrust of the general was awakened in proportion asfresh information reached him. "That is well," said he. "Iwish to see these men, bring them to me."

An officer immediately went to fetch them.

"How many are there of them?" continued Monk; "and what istheir vessel?"

"There are ten or twelve of them, general, and they wereaboard of a kind of chasse-maree, as it is called - Dutch-built, apparently."

"And you say they were carrying fish to Lambert's camp?"

"Yes, general, and they seem to have had good luck in theirfishing."

"Humph! we shall see that," said Monk.

At this moment the officer returned, bringing the leader ofthe fishermen with him. He was a man from fifty tofifty-five years old, but good-looking for his age. He wasof middle height, and wore a justaucorps of coarse wool, acap pulled down over his eyes, a cutlass hung from his belt,and he walked with the hesitation peculiar to sailors, who,never knowing, thanks to the movement of the vessel, whethertheir foot will be placed upon the plank or upon nothing,give to every one of their steps a fall as firm as if theywere driving a pile. Monk, with an acute and penetratinglook, examined the fisherman for some time, while the lattersmiled, with that smile half cunning, half silly, peculiarto French peasants.

"Do you speak English?" asked Monk, in excellent French.

"Ah! but badly, my lord," replied the fisherman.

This reply was made much more with the lively and sharpaccentuation of the people beyond the Loire, than with theslightly-drawling accent of the countries of the west andnorth of France.

"But you do speak it?" persisted Monk, in order to examinehis accent once more.

"Eh! we men of the sea," replied the fisherman, "speak alittle of all languages."

"Then you are a sea fisherman?"

"I am at present, my lord - a fisherman, and a famousfisherman too. I have taken a barbel that weighs at leastthirty pounds, and more than fifty mullets; I have also somelittle whitings that will fry beautifully."

"You appear to me to have fished more frequently in the Gulfof Gascony than in the Channel," said Monk, smiling.

"Well, I am from the south; but does that prevent me frombeing a good fisherman, my lord?"

"Oh! not at all; I shall buy your fish. And now speakfrankly; for whom did you destine them?"

"My lord, I will conceal nothing from you. I was going toNewcastle, following the coast, when a party of horsemen whowere passing along in an opposite direction made a sign tomy bark to turn back to your honor's camp, under penalty ofa discharge of musketry. As I was not armed for fighting,"added the fisherman, smiling, "I was forced to submit."

"And why did you go to Lambert's camp in preference tomine?"

"My lord, I will be frank; will your lordship permit me?"

"Yes, and even if need be shall command you to be so."

"Well, my lord, I was going to M. Lambert's camp becausethose gentlemen from the city pay well - whilst yourScotchmen, Puritans, Presbyterians, Covenanters, or whateveryou choose to call them, eat but little, and pay fornothing."

Monk shrugged his shoulders, without, however, being able torefrain from smiling at the same time. "How is it that,being from the south, you come to fish on our coasts?"

"Because I have been fool enough to marry in Picardy."

"Yes; but even Picardy is not England."

"My lord, man shoves his boat into the sea, but God and thewind do the rest, and drive the boat where they please."

"You had, then, no intention of landing on our coasts?"

"Never."

"And what route were you steering?"

"We were returning from Ostend, where some mackerel hadalready been seen, when a sharp wind from the south drove usfrom our course; then, seeing that it was useless tostruggle against it, we let it drive us. It then becamenecessary, not to lose our fish, which were good, to go andsell them at the nearest English port, and that wasNewcastle. We were told the opportunity was good, as therewas an increase of population in the camp, an increase ofpopulation in the city; both, we were told, were full ofgentlemen, very rich and very hungry. So we steered ourcourse towards Newcastle."

"And your companions, where are they?"

"Oh, my companions have remained on board; they are sailorswithout the least instruction."

"Whilst you - - " said Monk.

"Who, I?" said the patron, laughing; "I have sailed aboutwith my father, and I know what is called a sou, a crown, apistole, a louis, and a double louis, in all the languagesof Europe; my crew, therefore, listen to me as they would toan oracle, and obey me as if I were an admiral."

"Then it was you who preferred M. Lambert as the bestcustomer?"

"Yes, certainly. And, to be frank, my lord, was I wrong?"

"You will see that by and by."

"At all events, my lord, if there is a fault, the fault ismine; and my comrades should not be dealt hardly with onthat account."

"This is decidedly an intelligent, sharp fellow," thoughtMonk. Then, after a few minutes, silence employed inscrutinizing the fisherman, - "You come from Ostend, didyou not say?" asked the general.

"Yes, my lord, in a straight line."

"You have then heard of the affairs of the day; for I haveno doubt that both in France and Holland they exciteinterest. What is he doing who calls himself king ofEngland?"

"Oh, my lord!" cried the fisherman, with loud and expansivefrankness, "that is a lucky question, and you could not putit to anybody better than to me, for in truth I can make youa famous reply. Imagine, my lord, that when putting intoOstend to sell the few mackerel we had caught, I saw theex-king walking on the downs waiting for his horses, whichwere to take him to the Hague. He is a rather tall, paleman, with black hair, and somewhat hard-featured. He looksill, and I don't think the air of Holland agrees with him."

Monk followed with the greatest attention the rapid,heightened, and diffuse conversation of the fisherman, in alanguage which was not his own, but which, as we have said,he spoke with great facility. The fisherman on his part,employed sometimes a French word, sometimes an English word,and sometimes a word which appeared not to belong to anylanguage, but was, in truth, pure Gascon. Fortunately hiseyes spoke for him, and that so eloquently, that it waspossible to lose a word from his mouth, but not a singleintention from his eyes. The general appeared more and moresatisfied with his examination. "You must have heard thatthis ex-king, as you call him, was going to the Hague forsome purpose?"

"Oh, yes," said the fisherman, "I heard that."

"And what was his purpose?"

"Always the same," said the fisherman. "Must he not alwaysentertain the fixed idea of returning to England?"

"That is true," said Monk, pensively.

"Without reckoning," added the fisherman, "that thestadtholder - you know, my lord, William II.?"

"Well?"

"He will assist him with all his power."

"Ah! did you hear that said?"

"No, but I think so."

"You are quite a politician, apparently," said Monk.

"Why, we sailors, my lord, who are accustomed to study thewater and the air - that is to say, the two most changeablethings in the world - are seldom deceived as to the rest."

"Now, then," said Monk, changing the conversation, "I amtold you are going to provision us."

"I shall do my best, my lord."

"How much do you ask for your fish in the first place?"

"Not such a fool as to name a price, my lord."

"Why not?"

"Because my fish is yours."

"By what right?"

"By that of the strongest."

"But my intention is to pay you for it."

"That is very generous of you, my lord."

"And the worth of it - - "

"My lord, I fix no price."

"What do you ask, then?"

"I only ask to be permitted to go away."

"Where? - to General Lambert's camp?"

"I!" cried the fisherman; "what should I go to Newcastlefor, now I have no longer any fish?"

"At all events, listen to me."

"I do, my lord."

"I shall give you some advice."

"How, my lord! - pay me and give me good advice likewise!You overwhelm me, my lord."

Monk looked more earnestly than ever at the fisherman, aboutwhom he still appeared to entertain some suspicion. "Yes, Ishall pay you, and give you a piece of advice, for the twothings are connected. If you return, then, to GeneralLambert - - "

The fisherman made a movement of his head and shoulders,which signified, "If he persists in it, I won't contradicthim."

"Do not cross the marsh," continued Monk: "you will havemoney in your pocket, and there are in the marsh some Scotchambuscaders I have placed there. Those people are veryintractable; they understand but very little of the languagewhich you speak, although it appears to me to be composed ofthree languages. They might take from you what I had givenyou, and, on your return to your country, you would not failto say that General Monk has two hands, the one Scotch, andthe other English; and that he takes back with the Scotchhand what he has given with the English hand."

"Oh! general, I shall go where you like, be sure of that,"said the fisherman, with a fear too expressive not to beexaggerated. "I only wish to remain here, if you will allowme to remain."

"I readily believe you," said Monk, with an imperceptiblesmile, "but I cannot, nevertheless, keep you in my tent."

"I have no such wish, my lord, and desire only that yourlordship should point out where you will have me posted. Donot trouble yourself about us - with us a night soon passesaway."

"You shall be conducted to your bark."

"As your lordship pleases. Only, if your lordship wouldallow me to be taken back by a carpenter, I should beextremely grateful."

"Why so?"

"Because the gentlemen of your army, in dragging my boat upthe river with a cable pulled by their horses, have batteredit a little upon the rocks of the shore, so that I have atleast two feet of water in my hold, my lord."

"The greater reason why you should watch your boat, Ithink."

"My lord, I am quite at your orders," said the fisherman; "Ishall empty my baskets where you wish; then you will pay me,if you please to do so; and you will send me away, if itappears right to you. You see I am very easily managed andpleased, my lord."

"Come, come, you are a very good sort of a fellow," saidMonk, whose scrutinizing glance had not been able to find asingle shade in the clear eye of the fisherman. "Holloa,Digby!" An aide-de-camp appeared. "You will conduct thisgood fellow and his companions to the little tents of thecanteens, in front of the marshes, so that they will be neartheir bark, and yet will not sleep on board to-night. Whatis the matter, Spithead?"

Spithead was the sergeant from whom Monk had borrowed apiece of tobacco for his supper. Spithead, having enteredthe general's tent without being sent for, had drawn thisquestion from Monk.

"My lord," said he, "a French gentleman has just presentedhimself at the outposts and wishes to speak to your honor."

All this was said, be it understood, in English; butnotwithstanding, it produced a slight emotion in thefisherman, which Monk, occupied with his sergeant, did notremark.

"Who is the gentleman?" asked Monk.

"My lord," replied Spithead, "he told it me, but thosedevils of French names are so difficult to pronounce for aScotch throat, that I could not retain it. I believe,however, from what the guards say, that it is the samegentleman who presented himself yesterday at the halt, andwhom your honor would not receive."

"That is true; I was holding a council of officers."

"Will your honor give any orders respecting this gentleman?"

"Yes, let him be brought here."

"Must we take any precautions?"

"Such as what?"

"Binding his eyes, for instance."

"To what purpose? He can only see what I desire should beseen; that is to say, that I have around me eleven thousandbrave men, who ask no better than to have their throats cutin honor of the parliament of Scotland and England."

"And this man, my lord?" said Spithead, pointing to thefisherman, who, during this conversation, had remainedstanding and motionless, like a man who sees but does notunderstand.

"Ah, that is true," said Monk. Then turning towards thefisherman, - "I shall see you again, my brave fellow," saidhe; "I have selected a lodging for you. Digby, take him toit. Fear nothing: your money shall be sent to youpresently."

"Thank you, my lord," said the fisherman, and after havingbowed, he left the tent, accompanied by Digby. Before he hadgone a hundred paces he found his companions, who werewhispering with a volubility which did not appear exemptfrom uneasiness, but he made them a sign which seemed toreassure them. "Hola, you fellows!" said the patron, "comethis way. His lordship, General Monk, has the generosity topay us for our fish, and the goodness to give us hospitalityfor to-night."

The fishermen gathered round their leader, and, conducted byDigby, the little troop proceeded towards the canteens, thepost, as may be remembered, which had been assigned them. Asthey went along in the dark, the fishermen passed close tothe guards who were conducting the French gentleman toGeneral Monk. This gentleman was on horseback, and envelopedin a large cloak, which prevented the patron from seeinghim, however great his curiosity might be. As to thegentleman, ignorant that he was elbowing compatriots, he didnot pay any attention to the little troop.

The aid-de-camp settled his guests in a tolerablycomfortable tent, from which was dislodged an Irish canteenwoman, who went, with her six children, to sleep where shecould. A large fire was burning in front of this tent, andthrew its purple light over the grassy pools of the marsh,rippled by a fresh breeze. The arrangements made, theaid-de-camp wished the fishermen good-night, calling totheir notice that they might see from the door of the tentthe masts of their bark, which was tossing gently on theTweed, a proof that it had not yet sunk. The sight of thisappeared to delight the leader of the fishermen infinitely.