Weyman, Stanley John: Chippinge Borough. v1. 19 Jan 2015
 

Stanley John Weyman (1855 - 1928) aka Jefferson Carter

Stanley John Weyman was an English novelist sometimes referred to as the "Prince of Romance". He was born at Ludlow, Shropshire, as the son of a solicitor. He was educated at Shrewsbury School, and at Christ Church, Oxford. He obtained his degree in modern history in 1877, and was called to the bar at the Inner Temple in 1881. Weyman had been practicing as a barrister for eight years until, in 1889, he wrote his first novel entitled The House of the Wolf (1890). This was followed by the novels which were to make his reputation: among them are historical romances set amidst the turmoil of 16th and 17th century France. His most famous works include: A Gentleman of France (1893), Under the Red Robe (1894), The Castle Inn (1898) and The Long Night (1903).

It was April 22, 1831, and a young man was walking down Whitehall in the direction of Parliament Street. He wore shepherd’s plaid trousers and the swallow-tail coat of the day, with a figured muslin cravat wound about his wide-spread collar. He halted opposite the Privy Gardens, and, with his face turned skywards, listened until the sound of the Tower guns smote again on the ear and dispelled his doubts. To the experienced, his outward man, neat and modestly prosperous, denoted a young barrister of promise or a Treasury clerk. His figure was good, he was above the middle height, and he carried himself with an easy independence. He seemed to be one who both held a fair opinion of himself and knew how to impress that opinion on his fellows; yet was not incapable of deference where deference was plainly due. He was neither ugly nor handsome, neither slovenly nor a petit-maître; indeed, it was doubtful if he had ever seen the inside of Almack’s. But his features were strong and intellectual, and the keen grey eyes which looked so boldly on the world could express both humour and good humour. In a word, this young man was one upon whom women, even great ladies, were likely to look with pleasure, and one woman—but he had not yet met her—with tenderness.