Trial of Mary Blandy | Page 9

love philtre of the Romans. Mary said she had
no faith in such things, but Cranstoun assured her of its efficacy, having
once taken some himself, and immediately forgiven a friend to whom
he had intended never to speak again. "If I had any of these powders,"
said he, "I would put them into something Mr. Blandy should drink."
Such is Mary's account of the inception of the design upon her father's
love--or life. There for the time matters rested.
"Before he left Henley for the last time," writes Lady Russell, to whose
interesting account we shall later refer, "Captain Cranstoun made an
assignation with Miss Blandy to meet her in the grounds of Park Place,
which had long been their trysting-place; and here it was that in a walk
which still goes by the name of 'Blandy's Walk,' he first broached his
diabolical plan." Park Place, according to the same authority, had
shortly before been purchased by General Conway and Lady Ailesbury
from Mr. Blandy, as "trustee" of the property.
A "dunning" letter following the impecunious captain to his peaceful
retreat alarmed the lovers, for the appearance of a bailiff in the
respectable house in Hart Street would, for Mr. Blandy, have been, as
the phrase goes, the last straw. Fortunately, Mary had retained against
such a contingency the balance of Mrs. Mounteney's loan; and with
another fifteen pounds of that lady's in his pocket, the captain left for
London to liquidate his debt.
From that time till August, 1750, the shadow of his sinister guest did
not darken the attorney's door. On the first of that month Cranstoun
wrote that he proposed to wait upon him. "He must come, I suppose,"
sighed the old man, and allowed Mary to write that the visitor would be
received. Doubtless, he faintly hoped that the Scottish difficulty was at

last removed. But the captain, when he came, brought nothing better
than the old empty assurances, and his host did not conceal how little
weight he now attached to such professions. The visit was an
unpleasant one for all parties, and the situation was rapidly becoming
impossible. Mary "seldom rose from the table without tears." Her father
spent his evenings at "the coffee-house," that he might see as little as
possible of the unwelcome guest.
One morning, Mary states, Cranstoun put some of the magic powder in
the old gentleman's tea, when, mirabile dictu, Mr. Blandy, who at
breakfast had been very cross, appeared at dinner in the best of
humours, and continued so "all the time Mr. Cranstoun stayed with
him"! After this, who could doubt the beneficent efficacy of the wise
woman's drug?
During one of their daily walks this singular lover informed his
betrothed that he had a secret to communicate, to wit, that over and
above the Scottish complication, "he had a daughter by one Miss
Capel" a year before he met the present object of his desires. Miss
Blandy, with much philosophy, replied that she hoped he now saw his
follies and would not repeat them. "If I do," said Cranstoun, "I must be
a villain; you alone can make me happy in this world; and by following
your example, I hope I shall be happy in the next." A day or two
afterwards, when Cranstoun was abroad, Mary, so far anticipating her
wifely duties, entered his room in order to look out his things for the
wash. She found more "dirty linen" than she expected. In an unlocked
trunk was a letter of recent date, addressed to the gallant captain by a
lady then enjoying his protection in town. Even Miss Blandy's robust
affection was not, for the moment, able to overlook a treachery so base.
She locked the trunk, put the key in her pocket, and at the first
opportunity handed it to Cranstoun, with the remark that he should in
future be more careful of his private correspondence. A disgusting
scene ensued. For two hours the wretched little captain wept and raved,
imploring her forgiveness. On his knees, clinging to the skirts of her
gown, he swore he would not live till night unless she pardoned his
offence. Mary asked him to leave Henley at once; she would not expose
him, and their engagement "might seem to go off by degrees." But the

miserable creature conjured her by her mother's dying words not to
give him up, vowing never to repeat "the same provocations." In the
end Mary foolishly yielded; one wonders at the strength of that
abnormal passion by which she was driven to accept a position so
impossible for a decent and intelligent girl.
Soon after this incident Cranstoun was summoned to Scotland, where
his mother, Lady Cranstoun, was "extremely ill." "Good God!" cried
this admirable son, "what shall I do? I have no