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COLLECTION 
 
 OF ANCIENT AND MODERN 
 
 BRITISH AUTHORS. 
 
 VOL. XXVI. 
 
 * 
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
PRINTED BY CRAPELBT, 9, BUE »E VAUGIRARD. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S LAST NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 
 
 " If my readers should at any time remark that 1 am 
 particularly dull, they may be assured there is a design 
 under it." — British Essajrist, 
 
 PARIS, 
 
 BAUDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY, 
 
 3, QUAl MALAQUAIS, NEAR THE PONT DBS ARTS; 
 AND STASSIN ET XAVIER, 9, RUE DU COQ. 
 
 SOLD ALSO BY AMYOT, RUE DE LA PAIX ; TRUCHY, BODLEVARD DES ITALIEKS; 
 
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 AND BY ALL THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS ON THE CONTINENT. 
 
 1841. 
 
INTRODUCTION p^,^^ 
 
 TO 
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. MA-rtJ 
 
 If I had valued my own reputation, as it is said I ought in prudence to 
 have done, I might have now drawn a line, and remained for life, or (who 
 knows ?) perhaps for some years after death, the "ingenious author of Waver- 
 ley." I was not, however, more desirous of this sort of immortality, which 
 might have lasted some twenty or thirty years, than Falstaff of the em- 
 bowelllng which was promised him after the field of Shrewsbury, by his 
 patron the Prince of Wales. " Embowel'd? If you embowel me to-day, you may 
 powder and eat me to-morrow I " 
 
 If my occupation as a romancer were taken from me, I felt I should have at a 
 late hour in life to find me out another ; when I could hardly expect to acquire 
 those new tricks, which are proverbially said not to be learned by those dogs 
 who are getting old. Besides, I had yet to learn from the public, that my 
 intrusions were disagreeable ; and while I was endured with some patience, I 
 felt I had all the reputation which I greatly coveted. My memory was well stored, 
 both with historical, local, and traditional notices, and I had become almost 
 as licensed a plague to the public as the well remembered beggar of the ward, 
 whom men distinguish by their favour, perhaps for no better reason than that 
 they had been in the habit of giving him alms, as a part of the business of 
 their daily promenade. The general fact is undeniable, — all men grow old, all 
 men must wear out; but men of ordinary wisdom, however aware of the 
 general fact, are unwilling to admit in their own case any special instances 
 of failure. Indeed, they can hardly be expected themselves to distinguish the 
 effects of the Archbishop of Granada's apoplexy, and are not unwilling to pass 
 over in their composition, as instances of mere carelessness or bad luck, what 
 others may consider as symptoms of moral decay. I had no choice save that of 
 absolutely laying aside the pen, the use of which at my time of life was be- 
 come a habit, or to continue its vagaries, until the public should let me plainly 
 understand they would no more of me ; a hint which I was not unlikely to 
 meet with, and which I was determined to take without waiting for a repe- 
 tition. This hint, that the reader may plainly understand me, I was determined 
 to take, when the publication of a new Waverley novel should not be the 
 subject of some attention in the literary world. 
 
 An accidental circumstance decided my choice of a subject for the presentwork. 
 It was now several years since my impiediate younger brother, Thomas Scott, 
 already mentioned in these notes, had resided for two or three seasons in the 
 Isle of Man, and, having access to the registers of that singular territory, had 
 copied many of them, which he subjected to my perusal. These papers were 
 put into my hands while my brother had thoughts of making some literary use 
 of them, I do not well remember what; but he never came to any decision 
 on that head, and grew tired of the task of transcription. The papers, I sup- 
 pose, were lost in the course of a military man's life. The tenor of them, 
 that is, of the most remarkable, remained engraved on the memory of the 
 author. 
 
 1 
 
 /r^dfWQ 
 
'2 . • : ;.':•..• INTRODUCTION 
 
 ".The 'interesting, ah'd.romanlic slory of William Christian especially struck 
 iriy fancy.'. Xlfolrnd tfie same individual, as well as his father, particularly 
 noticed in some memorials of the island, preserved by the Earl of Derby, and 
 published in Dr. Peck's Desiderata Curiosa. This gentleman was the son of 
 Edward, formerly governor of the island; and William himself was afterwards 
 one of its two Dempsters, or supreme judges. Both father and son embraced 
 the party of the islanders, and contested seme feudal rights claimed by the 
 Earl of Derby as King of the Island. When the Earl had suffered death at 
 Bolton-le-Moors, Captain Christian placed himself at the head of the Round- 
 heads, if they might be so called, and found the means of holding communica- 
 tion with a fleet sent by the Parliament. The island was surrendered to the Par- 
 liament by the insurgent Manxmen. The high-spirited Countess and her son 
 were arrested, and cast into prison, where they were long detained, and very 
 indifferently treated. When the restoration took place, the Countess, or by title 
 the Queen-dowager of the Island, seized upon William Dhdne, or Fair-haired 
 William, as William Christian was termed, and caused him to be tried and 
 executed, according to the laws of the island, for having dethroned his liege 
 mistress, and imprisoned her and her family. Romancers, and readers of 
 romance, will generally allow, that the fate x)f Christian, and the contrast of 
 his character with that of the high-minded, but vindictive Countess of Derby, 
 famous during the civil wars for her valiant defence of Latham House, con- 
 tained the essence of an interesting tale. I have, however, dwelt little either 
 on the death of William Christian, or on the manner in which Charles II, 
 viewed that stretch of feudal power, and the heavy fine which he imposed 
 upon the Derby estates, for that extent of jurisdiction of which the Countess 
 had been guilty. Far less have \ given any opinion on the justice or guilt of 
 that action, which is to this day judged of by the people of the island as they 
 happen to be connected with the sufferer, or perhaps as they may look back 
 with the eyes of favour upon the Cavaliers or Roundheads of those contentious 
 days. I do not conceive that I have done injury to the memory of this gentle- 
 man, or any of his descendants in his person ; at the same time I have most 
 willingly given his representative an opportunity of stating in this edition of 
 the Novel what he thinks necessary for the vindication of his ancestor, and 
 the reader will find the exposition in the Notices, for which Mr. Christian desires 
 admission'. I could do no less, considering the polite and gentlemanlike 
 manner in which he stated feelings concerning his ancestry, to which a Scots- 
 man can hardly be supposed to be indifferent. 
 
 In another respect, Mr. Christian with justice complains, that Edward 
 Christian, described in the romance as the brother cf the gentleman executed 
 in consequence of the Countess's arbitrary act of authority, is portrayed as a 
 wretch of unbounded depravity, having only ingenuity and ct)urage to rescue 
 him from abliorrcnce, as well as hatred. Any personal allusion was entirely 
 undesigned on the part of the author. The Edward Christian of the tale is a 
 mere creature of the imagination. Commentators have naturally enough iden- 
 tified him with a brother of William Christian, named Edward, who died in 
 prison after being confined seven or eight years in Peel Castle, in the year 1650. 
 Of him I had no access to know any thing; and as I was not aware that such 
 a ijerson had existed, I could hardly be said to have traduced his character. It 
 is sufficient for my justification, that there lived at the period of my story a 
 person named Edward Christian, " with whom connected, or by whom begot," 
 I am a perfect stranger, but who we know to have been engaged in such actions 
 as may imply his having been guilty of any thing bad. The fact is, that upon 
 the 6th June, 1680, Thomas Blood (the famous crown-stealer), Edward Chris- 
 tian, Arthur O'Brien, and others, were found guilty of being concerned in a 
 
 ' See Appendix, No. I. 
 
TO PEVERIL OF THE PEVK. ,•$ 
 
 conspiracy for taking away the life and character of the celebrated Duke of 
 Buckingham ; but that this Edward was the same with the brother of William 
 Christian, is impossible, since that brother died in 1G50 j nor would I have used 
 his christened name of Edward, had I supposed there was a chance of its being 
 connected with any existing family. These genealogical matters are fully illus- 
 trated in the notes to the Appendix. 
 
 I ought to have mentioned in the former editions of this romance, that 
 Charlotte de la Tremouille, Countess of Derby, represented as a Catholic, was, 
 in fact, a French Protestant. For misrepresenting the noble dame in this 
 manner, I have only Lucio's excuse — " I spoke according to the trick." In a 
 story, where the greater part is avowedly fiction, the author is at liberty to 
 introduce such variations from actual fact as his plot requires, or which are 
 calculated to enhance it; in which predicament the religion of the Countess of 
 Derby, during the Popish Plot, appeared to fall. If I have over-estimated a 
 romancer's privileges and immunities, I am afraid this is not the only, nor 
 most important, case in which I have done so. To speak big words, the heroic 
 Countess has far less grounds for an action of scandal, than the memory of 
 Virgil might be liable to for his posthumous scandal of Dido. 
 
 The character of Fenella, which, from its peculiarity, made a favourable 
 impression on the public, was far from being original. The fine sketch of 
 Mignon, in Wilhelm Meister's Lehrjahre, a celebrated work from the pen of 
 Goethe, gave the idea of such a being. But the copy will be found greatly diffe- 
 rent from my great prototype ; nor can I be accused of borrowing any thing, 
 save the general idea, from an author, the honour of his own country, and an 
 example to the aathors of other kingdoms, to whom all must be proud to own 
 an obligation. 
 
 Family tradition supplied me with twoi circumstances, which are somewhat 
 analogous to that in question. The first is an account of a lawsuit, taken from 
 a Scottish report of adjudged cases, quoted in note to Chapter VI. 
 
 The other— of which the editor has no reason to doubt, having often heard 
 it from those who were witnesses of the fact — relates to the power of a female 
 in keeping a secret (sarcastically said to be impossible), even when that secret 
 refers to the exercise^of her tongue. 
 
 In the middle of the eighteenth century, a female wanderer came to the 
 door of Mr. Robert Scott, grandfather of the present author, an opulent farmer 
 iu Roxburghshire, and made signs that she desired shelter for the night, which, 
 according to the custom of the times, was readily granted. The next day the 
 country was covered with snow, and the departure of the wanderer was ren- 
 dered impossible. She remained for many days, her maintenance adding little 
 to the expense of a considerable household; and by the time that the weather 
 grew milder, she had learned to hold intercourse by signs with the household 
 around her, and could intimate to them that she was desirous of staying where 
 she was, and working at the wheel and other employment, to compensate for 
 her food. This was a compact not unfrequent at that time, and the dumb 
 woman entered upon her thrift, and proved a useful member of the patriarchal 
 household. She was a good spinner, knitter, carder, and so forth, but her ex- 
 cellence lay in attending to the feeding and bringing up the domestic poultry. 
 
 Her mode of whistling to call them together was so peculiarly elfish and 
 shrill, that it was thought, by those who heard it, more like that of a fairy than 
 a human being. 
 
 In this manner she lived three or four years, nor was there the slightest 
 idea entertained in the family that she was other than the mute and deprived 
 person she had always appeared. But in a moment of surprise, she dropped 
 the mask which she had worn so long. 
 
 It chanced upon a Sunday that the whole inhabitants of the household were 
 at church excepting Dumb Lizrie, whose infirmity was supposed to render her 
 
4 INTRODUCTION TO PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 incapable of profiting by divine service, and who therefore stayed at home to 
 lake charge of the house. It happened that, as she was sitting in the kitchen, 
 a mischievous shepherd boy, instead of looking after his flock on the lea, as 
 was his duty, slunk into the house to see what he could pick up, or perhaps out 
 of mere curiosity. Being tempted by something which was in his eyes a nicety, 
 he put forth his hand, unseen, as he conceived, to appropriate it. The dumb 
 woman came suddenly upon him, and in the surprise, forgot her part, and 
 exclaimed, in loud Scotch, and with distinct articulation, " Ah you little 
 deevil's limb I" The boy, terrified more by the character of the person who 
 rebuked him, than by the mere circumstance of having been taken in the 
 insignificant offence, fled in great dismay to the church, to carry the mira- 
 culous news that the dumb woman had found her tongue. 
 
 The family returned home in great surprise, but found that their inmate 
 had relapsed into her usual mute condition, would communicate with them 
 only by signs, and in that manner denied positively what the boy aflBrmed. 
 
 From this time confidence was broken betwixt the other inmates of the family 
 and their dumb, or rather silelit, guest. Traps were laid for the supposed 
 impostor, all of which she skilfully eluded ; firearms were often suddenly 
 discharged near her, but never on such occasions was she seen to start. It 
 seems probable, however, that Lizzie grew tired of all this mistrust, for she 
 one morning disappeared as she came, without any ceremony of leave-taking. 
 
 She was seen, it is said, upon the other side of the English border, in perfect 
 possession of her speech. Whether this was exactly the case or not, my infor- 
 mers were no way anxious in enquiring, nor am I able to authenticate the 
 fact. The shepherd boy lived to be a man, and always averred that she had 
 spoken distinctly to him. What could be the woman's reason for persevering so 
 long in a disguise as unnecessary as it was severe, could never be guessed, and 
 Vfus perhaps the consequence of a certain aberration of the mind. I can only 
 add, that I have every reason to believe the tale to be perfectly authentic, 
 so far as it is here given, and it may serve to parallel the supposed case of 
 Fenella. 
 
 Abbotsford, 
 islJuly, 1831. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 The following Notices were recommended to my attention, in the politest 
 manner possible, by John Christian, Esq. of Milntown, in the Isle of Man, and 
 Unrigg, in Cumberland, Dempster at present of the Isle of Man. This gentle- 
 man is naturalls interested in the facts which are stated, as representative of 
 the respectable family of Christian, and lineally descended from William Dhdne, 
 put to death by the Countess of Derby. I can be no way interested in refusing 
 Mr, Christian this justice, and willingly lend my aid to extend the exculpation 
 of the family. 
 
 HISTORICAL NOTICES 
 
 OF 
 
 EDWARD AND WILLIAM CHRISTIAN; TWO CHARACTERS IN 
 \ " PEVERIL OF THE PEAK." 
 
 The Ycnerable Dr. Dryasdust, in a preparatory dialogue, apprises the EidO' 
 Ion, or apparition of the author, that he stood " much accused for adulterating 
 the pure sources of historical knowledge ; " and is answered by that emanation 
 of genius, "that he has done some service to the public if he can present to 
 them a lively fictitious picture, for which the original anecdote or circumstance 
 which he made free to press into his service, only furnished a slight sketch;" 
 " that by introducing to the busy and the youthful, 
 
 ' Truths severe in fairy fiction dress'd,' 
 
 and by creating an interest in fictitious adventures ascribed to a historical period 
 and characters, the reader begins next to be anxious to learn what the facts 
 really were, and how far the novelist has justly represented them." 
 
 The adventures ascribed to " historical characters" would, however, fail In 
 their moral aim, if fiction were placed at variance with truth j if Hampden, or 
 Sydney, for example, were painted as swindlers; or Lady Jane Grey, or Rachel 
 Russel, as abandoned women. 
 
 " Odzooks! must one swear to the truth of a song?" although an excellent 
 joke, were a bad palliation in such a case. Fancy may be fairly indulged in the 
 illusion, but not in the perversion of fact ; and if the fictitious pictuice should 
 have no general resemblance to the original, the flourish of, 
 
 * Truths severe in fairy fiction dress'd,' 
 
 were but an aggravation of the wrong. 
 
 The family of Christian is indebted to this splendid luminary of the North for 
 abundant notoriety. 
 
 The William Christian represented on one part as an ungrateful traitor, on 
 the other as the victim of a judicial murder, and his brother (or relative) Edwaid, 
 
6 APPENDIX 
 
 one of the suite of a Duke ' of Buckingham, were so far real historical persons. 
 Whether the talents and skill of Edward in imposing on Fenella a feigned si- 
 lence of several years, be among the legitimate or supernatural wonders of this 
 fertile genius, his fair readers do not seem to be agreed. Whether the residue 
 of the canvass, filled up with a masterly picture of the most consummate hypo- 
 crite and Satanic villain ever presented to the imagination, be consistent with 
 the historical character of this individual, is among the subjects of research to 
 Which the novelist has given a direct invitation in his prefatory chapter. 
 
 English history furnishes few materials to aid the investigation of transactions 
 chiefly confined to the Isle of Man. Circumstances led me, many years ago, to 
 visit this ancient Lilliput; whether as one of those *' smart fellows worth talk- 
 ing to," "in consequence of a tumble from my barouche," '* as a ruined miner," 
 or as "a disappointed speculator," is of no material import. It may be that 
 temporary embarrassment drove me into seclusion, without ajly of the irresis- 
 tible inducements alluded to; and want of employment, added to the acquain- 
 tance and aid of a zealous local antiquary, gradually led to an examination of 
 all accessible authorities on this very subject among others. So it happened, 
 that I had not landed many hours before I found the mournful ditty of " Wil- 
 liam Dhdne" {brown or fair-haired William,ihis very identical William Chris- 
 tian) twanged through the demi-nasal, demi-guttural trumpet of the carman, 
 and warbled by the landlady's pretty daughter j in short, making as great a 
 figure in its little sphere as did once the more important ballad of Chevy Chace 
 in its wider range ; the burden of the song purporting that William Dh6ne was 
 the mirror of virtue and patriotism, and that envy, hatred, and malice, and all 
 uncharitableness, operate the destruction of the wisest and the best. • 
 
 Themes of popular feeling nafturaUy attract the earliest notice of a stranger j 
 and I found the story of this individual, though abundantly garbled and discQ- 
 louredon the insular records, full of circumstances to excite the deepest interest, 
 but which, to be rendered intelligible,. must be approached by a circuitous route, 
 in which neither elQn page, nor maiden fair, can be the companion of our walk. 
 The loyal and celebrated James, seventh Earl of Derby, was induced, by the 
 circumstances of the times, to fix his chief residence in the Isle of Man from 1 G43 
 to 1651 \ ^During this period he composed, in the form of a letter ^ to his son 
 Charles (Lord Strange), an historical account of that island, with a statement of 
 his own proceedings there ; interspersed with much political advice for the 
 guidance of his successor; full of acute observation, and evincing an intimate 
 acquaintance with the works of Machiavelli, which it appears, by a quotation ^ 
 that he had studied in a Latin edition. The work, although formally divided 
 into chapters and numbered paragraphs, is professedly desultory ^ and fur- 
 nishes few means of determining the relative dales of his facts, which must 
 
 ' Not the Duke described ia Peveril, but the companion of Charles I. id his Spanish 
 romance. 
 
 ' His countess resided.at Latham House (her heroic defence of which is well known) 
 until 1644 or 5, when she also retired to the Isle of Man. A contemporary publication, 
 the Uercurius Aulicus , by John Birkenhead, says," the Countesse, it seems, stole the 
 Earl's breeches, when he fled long since into the Isle of Man, and hath in his absence 
 played the Man at Latham." This insinuation is certainly unjust ; but the Earl seems to 
 consider some explanation necessary," why he left the land, when every gallant spirit 
 had engaged himself for king and country. " Danger of revolt and invasion of the island 
 constitute the substance of this explanation. There is reason, however, to conjecture, 
 that he had been disappointed of the command he bad a right to expect, when he brought 
 a considerable levy to join the King at York. Any explanation, in short, might be listened 
 to, except a doubt of his loyalty and ardent military spirit, which were above all im- 
 peachment. 
 
 ' Published in Peck's Desiderata Guriosa, in 1779. 
 
 * Peck, p. 446,— fortiter calumniari aliquid adhajrebil. 
 
 "> Peck, p. 416. " Loath to dwell too long on one subject,' skip over to some other matter. 
 
TO INTRODUCTIOiN. 7 
 
 accordingly be supplied by internal evidence, and in some cases by conjecture. 
 
 He appears to have been drawn thither, in 1643, by letters ' intimating the 
 danger of a revolt : the " people had begun the fashion of England in murmur- 
 ing;" ** assembled in a tumultuous manner; desiring new laws, they would 
 have no bishops, pay no tithes to the clergie, despised authority, rescued people 
 committed by the Governor," etc. etc. 
 
 The Earl's first care was to apply himself to the consideration of these insur- 
 rectionary movements ; and as he found some interruption to his proceedings 
 in the conduct of Edward Christian % an attempt shall be made, so far as our 
 limits -will admit, to extract the Earl's own account of this person. *• I was 
 newly ^ got acquainted with Captain Christian, whom I perceived to have abi- 
 lities enough to do me service. I was told he had made a good fortune in the 
 
 Indies ; that he was a Mankesman born." " He is excellent good companie ; 
 
 as rude as a sea captain should be ; but refined as one that had civilized him- 
 self half a year at Court, where he served the Duke of Buckingham." 
 
 •' While he governed here some few years he pleased me very well," etc. etc. 
 •• But such is the condition of man, that most will have some fault or other to 
 blurr all their best virtues; and his was of that condition which is reckoned 
 with drunkenness, viz. covelousncss, both marked tvilh age to increase and 
 
 grow in man." " When a Prince has given all, and the favourite can desire 
 
 no more, they both grow weary of one another^." 
 
 An account of the Earl's successive public meetings, short, from the limits of 
 our sketch, is extracted in a note^ from the headings of the chapters (appa- 
 rently composed by Peck). In the last of these meetings it appears that Edward 
 Christian attempted at its close to recapitulate the business of the day : " Asked 
 if we did not agree thus and thus," mentioning some things (says the Earl) "he 
 had instructed the people to aske ; which happily they had forgot." The Earl 
 accordingly rose in wrath, and, after a short speech, "bade the court to rise, 
 and no man to speak more."—" Some," he adds, " were commilled to prison, 
 and there abided, until, upon submission and assurance of being very good and 
 quiet, they were released, and others were put into their rooms.— I thought 
 fit to make them be deeply fined; since this they all come in most submisse and 
 
 ' Peck, p. 434. 
 
 » For a history of this family, established in the Isle of Man so early as 1422, see Hutch- 
 inson's History of Cumberland, vol. iii. p. 146. They had previously been established 
 in "Wigtonshire. 
 
 3 This is an example of the difficulty of arranging the relative dales ; the word newly, 
 thus employed at the earliest in 1643, refers to 1628, the date of the appointment of 
 E. Christian to be governor of the Isle of Man, which office he had till 1635 (Sacheverill's 
 Account of the Isle of Man, published in 1702, p. lOO), the Earl being then Lord Strange, 
 but apparently taking the lead in public business during his father's lifetime. 
 
 ^ Peck, p. 444. There is apparently some error in Hutchinson's genealogy of the family 
 in his History of Cumberland .- 1st brother, John, born i«02 ; 2d, died young; 3d, Wil- 
 liam, born 1608; 4th, Edward, Lieut.-Governor of the Isle of Man , 1629 ( according to 
 Sacheverill, p. lOO, 1628). This Edward's birth cannot be placed earlier than 1609, and he 
 could not well have made a fortune in the Indies, have frequented the Court of Charles I., 
 and be selected as a fit person to be a governor, at the age of 1 9 or 20. The person men- 
 tioned in the text was obviously of mature age; and Edward the governor appears to have 
 been the younger brother of William Christian, a branch of the same family, possessing 
 the estate of Knockrushen, near Castle Rushen, who, as vrell as Edward, was imprisoned 
 in Peel Castle in 1643. 
 
 5 Peck 338, et seq. " Chap. viii. The Earl appoints a meeting of the natives, every 
 man to give in his grievances ; upon which some think to outwit him, which he winks at, 
 being not ready for them, therefore cajoles and divides them ; on the appointed day he 
 appears with a good guard; the people give in their complaints quietly and retire. 
 Chap. ix. Another meeting appointed, when he also appears with a good guard. Many 
 busy men speak only Mankes, which a more designing person ( probably Captain Cliris- 
 tiao, a late governor) would hinder, hut the Earl forbids it ; advice about it appeanng in 
 public; the Mnnkpsmen grrai talkers and wranglers; the Earl's spies get in with them and 
 
8 APPENDIX 
 
 loving manner '." Prelly efficient means of producing quiet, if the despol be 
 strong enough, and with it such love as suits a despot's fancy ! Among the pri- 
 soners were Edward Christian and his brother William of Rnockrushen ; the 
 latter was released in 1644, on giving bond, among other conditions, not to 
 depart the island without license. 
 
 Of Edward, the Earl says, " I will return unto Captain Christian, whose bu- 
 siness must be heard next week" (either in 1G44 or early in 1645). "He is 
 still in prison, and I believe many wonder thereat, as savouring of injustice, 
 and that his trial should be deferred so long." "Also his business is of that 
 condition that it concerns not himself alone." ** If a Jurie of the people do 
 passe .upon him (being he had so cajoled them to believe he suffers for their 
 sakes), it is likely they should quit him, and then might he laugh at us, whom 
 I had rather he had betrayed." *' I remember one said it was much safer to 
 take men's lives than their estates : for their children will sooner much forget the 
 death of their father than the loss of their patrimonie '." Edward died in cus- 
 tody in Peel Castle in 1650 ^ after an imprisonment of between seven and 
 eight years ; and so far, at least, no ground can be discovered for that gratitude 
 which is afterwards said to have been violated by this family, unless indeed we 
 transplant ourselves to those countries where it is the fashion to flog a public 
 officer one day and replace him in authority the next. 
 
 The insular records detail with minuteness the complaints of the people rela- 
 tive to the exactions of the church, and their adjustment by a sort of public ar- 
 bitration in October 1653. But it is singular, that neither in these records, nor 
 in the Earl's very studied narrative of the modes of discussion, the offences, 
 and the punishments, is one word to be found regarding the more important 
 points actually at issue between himself and the people. The fact, however, is 
 fully developed, as if by accident, in one of the chapters (xvi.) of this very 
 desultory but sagacious performance. " There comes this very instant an occa- 
 sion to me to acquaint you with a special matter, which, if by reason of these 
 troublesome and dangerous times, I cannot bring to passe my intents therein, 
 you may in your belter leisure consider thereof, and make some use hereafter 
 of my present labors, in the matter of a certain holding in this country, called 
 the tenure of the straw ^ ; whereby men thinke their dwellings are their own 
 auntient inheritances, and that they may passe the same to any, and dispose 
 thereof without license from the Lord, but paying him a bare small rent like 
 unto a fee-farme in England : wherein they are much deceived." 
 
 wheedle them. Chap. x. The night before the meeting the Earl consults with bis officers 
 what to answer; but tells them nothing of his spies: compares both reports, and keeps 
 back his own opinion ; sends some of the officers, who he knew would be troublesome, 
 out of the way, about other matters ; the (present) governor afresh commended ; what 
 counsellors the properest. Chap. xi. The Earl's carriage to the people at his first going 
 over ; his carriage at the meetiqg to modest petitioners, to impudent, to the most confi- 
 dent, and to the rnost dangerous, viz, them who stood behind and prompted others. All 
 things being agreed, Captain Christian cunningly begins disturbance ; the Earl's reply 
 and speech to the people; Christian is stroke blank ; several people committed to prison 
 aud fined, which quiets them." 
 
 « Peck, 442. 
 
 » Peck, 448-9. 
 
 5 Fellham's Tour, p. I6i, places this event (while a prisoner in Peel Castle), on the 
 authority of a tombstone, iQi660,"John Greenhaigh being governor." Now John Green- 
 halgh ceased to be governor in 1651 ; the date is probably an error in the press for 1650. 
 
 4 In the transfer of real estates, both parties came into the common law court, and the 
 „.-antor, in the face of the court, transferred his title to the purchaser by the delivery of 
 a straw ; which being recorded, was his title. The same practice prevailed in the transfer 
 of personal property. Sir Edward Coke, iv. 69, when speaking of the Isle of Man, says 
 " upon the sale of a horse, or any contract for any other thing, they make the stipulation 
 perfect per irudilionem stipulce " by the delivery of a straw). Perhaps a more feasible 
 etymology of stipulation, than the usual derivation from stipes (a slake or latid-mark\ 
 or slips (a piece of money or wages). 
 
TO INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 William the Conqueror, among his plans for the henefll of his English 
 subjects, adopted that of inducing or compelling them to surrender their allo- 
 dial lands, and receive them back to hold by feudal tenure. The Earl of 
 Derby projected the surrender of a similar right, in order to create tenures 
 more profitable to himself —a simple lease for three lives, or twenty-one years. 
 The measure was entirely novel, although the attempt to prevent ' alienation 
 without license from the lord, for purposes of a less profitable exaction, may be 
 traced, together with the scenes of violence it produced, through many passages 
 in the ancient records, which would be inexplicable without this clue. 
 
 The Earl proceeded, certainly with sufficient energy and considerable skill, 
 to the accomplishment of his object. In the very year of his arrival, Dec. 1643, 
 he appointed commissioners ' to compound for leases, consisting of some of his 
 principal officers (members of council, who had themselves been prevailed on 
 by adequate considerations to surrender their estates, and are by general tra- 
 ditjon accused of having conspired to delude their simple countrymen into the • 
 persuasion, that having no title-deeds, their estates were insecure ; that leases 
 were title-deeds; and although nominally for limited terms, declared the lands 
 to be descendible to their eldest sons. It is remarkable that the names of 
 Ewan and TViUiam Christian, two of the council, are alone excluded from 
 this commission. 
 
 We have already seen two of the name committed to prison. The following 
 notices, which abundantly unfold the ground of the Earl's hostility to the name 
 of Christian; relate to Ewan Christian, the father of William Dh6ne, and one 
 of the Deemsters excluded from the commission. "One presented me a peti- 
 tion against Deemster ' Christian, on the behalf of an infant who is conceived 
 to have a right unto his Farme Rainsway (Ronaldsway), one of the principal 
 holdings in this country, who, by reason of his eminencie here, and that he 
 holdeth much of the same tenure of the straw in other places, he is soe ob- 
 served, that certainly as I temper the matter with him in this, soe shall I pre- 
 vail with others *." "By policie ' they (the Christians) are crept into the 
 
 principal places of power, and they be seated round about the country, and in 
 the heart of it ; they are matched with the best families," etc. 
 
 "The prayer of the petition ^ mentioned was to this effect, that there might 
 be a fair tryal, and when the right was recovered, that / would graunt them 
 
 a lease thereof— this being in the tenure of the straw." " Upon some 
 
 conference with the petitioner, I find a motion heretofore was made by my 
 commissioners, that the Deemster should give this fellow a summe of money. 
 But he would part with none, neverthelesse now it may be he will, and I hope 
 be so wise as to be assure unto himself his holding, by compounding with me 
 for the lease of the same, to which, if they two agree, I shall grant it him on 
 easy terms. For if he break the ice, I may haply catch some fish '." 
 
 ' Among those instances in which '* the commands of the lord proprietor have " (in the 
 emphatic words of the commissioners of i79i, p. 97) " been obtruded on the people as 
 laws," we find, in 1583, the prohibition to dispose of lands without license of the lord, is 
 prefaced by the broad admission, that," contrary to good and laudable order, and divers 
 and sundry general restraints made, the inhabitants have, and daily do, notwithstanding 
 the said restrainte, buy, sell, give, grant, chop and exchange their farms, lands, tene- 
 ments, etc. at their liberties and pleasures." Alienation fines were first exacted in 1643. 
 Report of Commissioners of 1791. App, A, No. 7i, Rep. of Law Officers. 
 
 * The governor-comptroller, receiver; and John Cannel, deemster. 
 
 3 Deemster, evidently Anglicized, the person who deems the law; a designation 
 anciently unknown among the natives, who continue to call this oflBcer Brehon, identical 
 with the name of those judges and laws so often mentioned in the Histories of Ireland. 
 
 * Peck, 447. 
 
 * lb., 448. 
 
 fi I have ascertained the date of this petition to be 1643. 
 
 7 Covetousness is not attributed to the head of this family ; but the Earl makes himself 
 merry with his gallantry— natural children, it seems, look ihc name of their father, and 
 
10 APPENDIX 
 
 The issue of this piscatory project was but too successful. Ewaa bent to the 
 reign of terror, and gave up Ronaldsway to his son William, who accepted 
 the lease, and named his own descendants for the lives. Still the objects 
 attained were unsubstantial, as being contrary to all law, written or oral ; and 
 the system was incomplete, until sanctioned by the semblance of legislative 
 confirmation. 
 
 We have seen that the Earl had in the island a considerable military force, 
 and we know from other sources ' that they lived in a great measure at free 
 quarters. We have his own testimony for stating, that he achieved his objects 
 by imprisoning, until his prisoners " promised to be good;" and successively 
 filling their places with others, until they also conformed to his theory of public 
 virtue. And the reader will be prepared to hear, without surprise, that the 
 same means enabled him, in 1645, to arrange a legislature * capable of yield- 
 ing a forced assent to this notable system of submission and loving kindness. 
 ' This is perhaps the most convenient place for stating, that, in the subsequent 
 surrender of the Island to the troops of the Parliament, the only stipulation 
 made by the Islanders was, "that they might enjoy their lands and liberties 
 as they formerly had." In what manner this stipulation was performed, my 
 notes do not enable me to state. The restoration of Charles II., propitious in 
 other respects, inflicted on the Isle of Man the revival of its feudal govern- 
 ment; and the afl'air of the tenures continued to be a theme of perpetual con- 
 test and unavailing complaint, until finally adjusted in 1703, through the 
 mediation of the excellent Bishop Wilson in a legislative compromise, known 
 by the name of the Act of Settlement, whereby the people obtained a full 
 recognition of their ancient rights, on condition of doubling the actual quit 
 rents, and consenting to alienation fines, first exacted by the Earl James 
 in 1643 ^ 
 
 In 1648, William Dhone was appointed Receiver General ; and in the same 
 year we find his elder brother, John (assistant Deemster to his father Ewan), 
 committed to Peel Castle on one of these occasions, which strongly marks the 
 character of the person and the times, and affords also a glimpse at the feeling 
 of the people, and at the condition of the devoted family of Christian. The 
 inquisitive will find it in a note ^ ; other readers will pass on. 
 
 The circumstances are familiarly known, to the reader of English history, of 
 the march of the Earl of Derby, in 1651, with a corps from the Isle of Man 
 for the service of the King; his joining the royal army on the eye of the battle 
 of Worcester; his flight and imprisonment at Chester, after that signal defeat ; 
 
 not of their molher, as elsewhere, and " the deemster did not get soe many lor lust's 
 sake, as to make the name of Chrislian flourish." Of him, era successor of the same name, 
 it is related, that he " won 500/. at play from the Bishop of Sodor and Man, with which 
 he purchased the manor of Ewanrigg in Cumberland, still possessed by that family." 
 
 * Evidence on the mock trial of William Dhdne. 
 
 ' We shall see, by and by, a very simple method of packing a judicial and legislative 
 body by removing and replacing seven individuals by one and the same mandate. 
 3 Report of 1791. App. A. No. 71. 
 
 * A person named Charles Vaugban is brought to lodge an information, that being in 
 England, he fell into company with a young man named Christian, who said he had lately 
 left the Isle of Man, and was in search of a brother, who was clerk to a Parliament 
 Officer; that in answer to some questions, he said," The Earl did use the inhabitants of 
 that Isle very hardly; had estreated great fines from the inhabitants; had changed Ihu 
 ancient tenures, and forced thim to take leases. That he had taken away one hundred 
 pounds a-year from bis father, and had kept his uncle in prison four or five years. But 
 if ever the Earl came to England, he had used the inhabitants so hardly, that he was suro 
 they would never suffer him to land in that island again." An order is given to imprison 
 John Christian (probably the reputed head of the family, his father being advanced In 
 years) in Peel Castle, until he entered into bonds to be of good behaviour, and not to 
 depart the Isle without /icc/we.— (Insular Records.) The young man in question is said 
 to have been the son of William Christian of Knockrushen. 
 
TO INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 and his trial and execution at Bolton in Lancashire, by the ofTicers of the Par- 
 liament, on the i 5th October of that year. 
 
 Immediately afterwards, Colonel Duckenfield, who commanded at Chester 
 on behalf of the Parliament, proceeded with an armament of ten ships, and a 
 considerable military force, for the reduction of the Isle of Man. 
 
 William Christian was condemned and executed in 1662-3, for acts con- 
 nected with its surrender, twelve years before, which are still involved in 
 obscurity; and it will be most acceptable to the general reader that we should 
 pass over the intermediate period ', and leave the facts regarding this indivi- 
 dual, all of Ihem extraordinary, and some of peculiar interest, to be developed 
 by the record of the trial, and documents derived from other sources. 
 
 A mandate by Charles, 8th Earl of Derby, dated at Latham, in September 
 16G2, after descanting on the heinous sin of rebellion, '* aggravated by its 
 being instrumental ' in the death of the Lord ; and stating that he is himself 
 concerned to revenge a father's blood," orders William Christian to be pro- 
 ceeded against forthwith, for all his illegal actions at, before, or after, the 
 year 1G61 (a pretty sweeping range). The indictment charges him with "being 
 the head of an insurrection against the Countess of Derby in 1651, asssuming 
 the power unto himself, and depriving her Ladyship, his Lordship, and heirs 
 thereof." 
 
 A series of depositions appear on record from the 3d to the 13th October, and 
 a reference by the precious depositaries of justice of that day, to the twenty-four 
 Keys ^ "Whether upon the examination taken and read before, you find Mr. 
 W. Christian of Ronaidsway, within compass of the statute of the year 1422.— 
 that is, to receive a sentence wilhoul quest, or to be tried in the ordinary course 
 of law." This body, designated on the record "so many of the Keys as were 
 then present," were in number seventeen; but not being yet suffiicently select 
 to approve of sentence without trial, made their return. To be tried by course 
 of law. 
 
 On the 26lh November, it is recorded, that the Governor and Attorney-Gene- 
 ral having proceeded to the jail "with a guard of soldiers, to require him (Chris- 
 tian) to the bar to receive his trial, he refused, and denied to come, and abide 
 the same"— (admirable courtesy to invite, instead of bringing him to the bar!) 
 Whereupon the Governor demanded the law of Deemster Norris, who then sat 
 in judication. Deemster John Christian having not appeared, and Mr. Edward 
 Christian 'i, his son, and assistant, having also forborne to sit in this Court, he 
 
 ' Some readers may desire an oullinc of this period. The lordship of the Island was 
 given to Lord Fairfax, who deputed commissioners to regulate its affairs ; one of them 
 (Cbaloner) published an account of the Island in i656. He puts down William Christian 
 as Receiver General in 1653. We find his name as Governor, from 1656 to 1658 (Sache- 
 verill, p. 101), in which year he was succeeded by Chaloner himself. Among the anoma- 
 lies of those times, it would seem that he had retained the office of Receiver while offi- 
 ciating as Governor; and episcopacy having been abolished, and the receipts of the see 
 added to those of the exchequer, he had large accounts to settle, for which Chaloner 
 sequestered his estates in his absence, and imprisoned and held to bail his brother John, 
 for aiding what he calls his escape ; his son George returned from England, by permission 
 j>i Lord Fairfax, to settle his father's accounts. Chaloner informs us, that the revenues 
 of the suppressed see were not appropriated to the private use of Lord Fairfax, who,'' for 
 the better encouragement and support of the ministers of the Gospel, and for the promo- 
 ting of learning, hath conferred all this revenue upon the ministers, and also for main- 
 taining free schools, i. e. at Castletown, Peel, Douglass, and Ramsay." Chaloner pays a 
 liberal tribute to the talents of the clergy, and the learning and piety of the late bishops. 
 
 » See the remark in Christian's dying speech, that the late Earl had been executed eight 
 days before the insurrection. 
 
 ^ The Court for criminal trials was composed of the governor and council (including 
 the deemsters) and the keys, who also, with the lord, composed the three branches of the 
 legislative body ; and it was the practice, in cases of doubt, to refer points of customary 
 law to the deemsters and keys. 
 
 ' The grandson of Evan. It appears by the proceedings of the King in council, 1663. 
 
12 APPENDIX 
 
 the said Deemster Norrls craved the advice and assistance of the twenty-four 
 Keys ; and the said Deemster and Keys deemed the law therein, to wit, that he 
 is at the mercy of the Lord for life and goods. 
 
 It will be observed, that seven of the Keys were formerly absent, on what 
 account we shall presently see. All this was very cleverly arranged by the fol- 
 lowing recorded order, 29th December — *' These of the twenty- four Keys are 
 removed of that Company, in reference to my Honourable Lord's order in 
 that behalf," enumerating seven names, not of the seventeen before mentioned, 
 and naming seven others who "are sworn ' in their places." The judicature is 
 farther improved by transferring an eighth individual of the first seventeen to 
 the council, and filling his place with another proper person. These facts have 
 been related with some minuteness of detail for two reasons; 1st, Although 
 nearly equalled by some of the subsequent proceedings, they would not be cre- 
 dited on common authority ; and 2d, They render all comment unnecessary, and 
 prepare the reader for any judgment, however extraordinary, to be expected 
 from such a tribunal. 
 
 Then come the proceedings of the 29lh December— The Proposals, as they are 
 named, to the Deemsters', and twenty-four Keys now assembled, "to be an- 
 swered in a point of law" 1st, Any malefactor, etc. being indicted, etc, and 
 denying to abide the law of his country in that course (notwithstanding any 
 argument or plea he may offer for himself), and thereupon deemed to forfeit 
 body and goods, etc. whether he may afterwards obtain the same benefit, etc. 
 etc. ; to which, on the same day, they answered in the negative. It was found 
 practicable, on the 31st, to bring the prisoner to the bar, to hear his sentence 
 of being " shot to death, that thereupon his life may depart from his body;" 
 which sentence was executed on the 2d of January, 1663. 
 
 That he made "an excellent speech" at the place of execution, is recorded, 
 where we should little expect to find it, in the Parochial Register; the accuracy 
 of that which has been preserved as such in the family of a clergyman (and 
 appears to have been printed on or before 1776) ^, rests chiefly on internal evi- 
 dence; and on its accordance, in some material points, with facts suppressed or 
 distorted in the Records, but established in the proceedings of the Privy Coun- 
 cil. It is therefore given without abbreviation, and the material points of 
 evidence in the voluminous dispositions on both trials '' are extracted for 
 reference in a note ^ 
 
 that " he did, when the court refused to admit of the deceased William Christian's plea 
 of the Act of Indemnity, make his protestation against their illegal proceedings, and did 
 withdraw himself, and came to England to solicit his Majesty, and implore his justice." 
 
 « The Commissioners of 1791 are in doubt regarding the time when, and the manner in 
 which, the Keys were first elected ; this notable precedent had perhaps not fallen under 
 their observation. 
 
 » Hugh Cannel was now added as a second Deemster. 
 
 3 One of the copies in my possession is stated to be transcribed in that year from the 
 printed speech, the other as stated in the text. 
 
 ^ Both trials : the first is for the same purposes as the English grand jury, with this 
 most especial difference, that evidence is admitted for the prisoner, and it thus becomes 
 what it is frequently called, the first trial; the second, if the indictment be found, is in 
 all respects like that by petty jury in England. 
 
 * This testimony will of course be received with due suspicion, and confronted with 
 the only defence known, that of his dying speech. It goes to establish that Christian had 
 placed himself at the head of an association, bound by a secret oath, to " withstand the 
 Lady of Derby in her designs until she had yielded or condescended to their aggrie- 
 vances; " among which grievances, during the Earl's residence, we find incidentally no- 
 ticed," the troop that was in the Isle and their free quarterage ; " that he had represented 
 her ladyship to have deceived him, by entering into negotiations with the Parliament, 
 contrary to her promise to communicate with him in such a case ; that Christian and his 
 associates declared that she was about to sell them for two-pence or three-pence apiece; 
 that he told his associates, that he had entered into correspondence with Major Fox and 
 the Parliament, and received thoir authority to raise the country ; that in consequence of 
 
TO INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 The last speech of William Christian, Esq., who was executed 2(i January 
 1G62-3: 
 
 "Gentlemen, and the rest of you who have accompanied me this day to the 
 gate of death, I know you expect I should say something at my departure ; and 
 indeed I am in some measure willing to satisfy you, having not had the least 
 liberty, since my imprisonment, to acquaint any with the sadness of my suffer- 
 ings, which flesh and blood could not have endured, without the power and 
 assistance of my most gracious and good God, into whose hands I do now com- 
 mit my poor soul, not doubting but that I shall very quickly be in the arms of 
 his mercy. 
 
 " I am, as you now see, hurried hither by the power oi a pretended court of 
 justice, the members whereof, or at least the greatest part of them, are by no 
 means qualified, but very ill-befitting their new places. The reasons you may 
 give yourselves. 
 
 *' The cause for which I am brought hither, as the prompted and threatened 
 jury has delivered, is high treason against the Countess Dowager of Derby, for 
 that I did, as they say, in the year fifty-one, raise a force against her for the 
 suppressing and rooting out that family. How unjust the accusation is, very 
 few of you that hear me tliis day but can witness ; and that the then rising of 
 the people, in which afterwards I came to be engaged, did not at all, or in the 
 least degree, intend the prejudice or ruin of that family j the chief whereof 
 being, as you well remember, dead eight days, or thereabout, before that 
 action happened. But the true cause of that rising, as ' the jury did twice 
 bring in, was to present grievances to our Honourable Lady ; which was done 
 by me, and afterwards approved by her Ladyship, under the hand of her then 
 
 this insurrection, her ladyship appointed commissioners to treat with others " ore the 
 •part of the country,^' and articles of agreement were concluded (see the speech) which 
 nowhere now appear; that on the appearance of Duckenlield's ships, standing for Ramsay 
 Bay, one of the insurgents boarded them off Douglas," to give intelligence of the condi- 
 tion of the country ; the disposable troops marched under the governor. Sir Philip Mus- 
 grave, for Ramsay ; that when the shipping had anchored, a deputation of three persons, 
 viz. John Christian, Ewan Curphey, and William Standish, proceeded on board, to nego- 
 tiate for the surrender of the Island (where William was does not appear). The destruc- 
 tion of the articles of agreement, and the silence of the records regarding the relative 
 strength of the forces, leave us without the means of determining the degree of merit or 
 demerit to be ascribed to these negotiators, or the precise authority under which they 
 acted ; but the grievances to be redressed, are cleared from every obscurity by the all- 
 sufficient testimony of the terms demanded from the victors," that they might enjoy 
 their lands and liberties as formerly they had ; and that it was demanded whether they 
 asked any more, but nothing else was demanded that this examinant heard of." The 
 taking of Loyal Fort near Ramsay (commanded by a Major Duckenfleld, who was made 
 prisoner), and of Peel Castle, appear on record ; but nothing could be found regarding 
 the surrender of Castle Rushen, or of the Countess of Derby's subsequent imprisonment. 
 Had the often repeated tale, of William Christian having " treacherously seized upon 
 the lady and her children, with the governors of both castles, in the middle of the night " 
 —(Rolfs History of the Isle of Man, published in I7i3, p. 89)— rested on the slightest 
 semblance of truth, we should inevitably have found an attempt to prove it in the pro- 
 ceedings of this mock trial. In the absence of authentic details, the tradition may be 
 adverted to, that her ladyship, on learning the proceedings at Ramsay, hastened to 
 embark in a vessel she had prepared, but was intercepted before she could reach it. The 
 same uncertainty exists with regard to any negotiations on her part, with the officers of 
 the Parliament, as affirmed by the insurgents ; the Earl's first letter, after his capture 
 and before his trial, says, " Truly, as matters go, it will be best for you to make condi- 
 tions for yourself, children, and friends, in the manner as we have proposed, or as you 
 can farther agree with Col. Duckenfield ; who being so much a gentleman born, will 
 doubtless, for his own honour, deal fairly with you." He seems also to have hoped at 
 that time that it might influence his own fate: and the eloquent and affecting letter 
 written immediately before his execution, repeats the same admonitions to treat, Rolt, 
 pp. 74 and|84. 
 » This fact, as might be expected, is not to be traced on the record of the trial. 
 
l4 APPENDIX 
 
 secretary, M. Trevach, who is yet living, which agreement hath since, io my 
 own ruin and my poor family's endless sorrow, been forced from me. The 
 Lord God forgive Ihem the injustice of their dealings with me, and I wish from 
 my heart it may not be laid to their charge another day ! 
 
 '• You now see me here a sacrifice ready lo be offered up for that which 
 was the preservation of your lives and fortunes which were then in hazard, 
 but that I stood between you and your (then in all appearance) utter ruin. I wish 
 you still may, as hitherto, enjoy the sweet benefit and blessing of peace, though 
 from that minute until now I have still been prosecuted and persecuted, nor have 
 I ever since found a place to rest myself in. But my God be for ever blessed 
 and praised, who hath given me so large a measure of patience ! 
 
 "What services I have done for that Noble Family, by whose power I am 
 now to take my latest breath, I dare appeal to themselves, whether I have not 
 deserved better things from some of them, than the sentence of my bodily des- 
 truction, and seizure of the poor estate my son ought to enjoy, being purchased 
 and left him by his grandfather. It might have been much better had I not 
 spent it in the service of my Honourable Lord of Derby and his family j these 
 things I need not mention to you, for that most of you are witnesses to it. I 
 shall now beg your patience while I tell you here, in the presence of God, that 
 I never in all my life acted any thing with intention to prejudice my Sovereign 
 Lord the Ring, nor the late Earl of Derby, nor Ihe now Earl : yet notwithstand- 
 ing, being in England at the time of his sacred Majesty's happy restoration, I 
 went to London, with many others, to have a sight of my gracious King, whom 
 until then, I never had seen. But I was not long there when I was arrested 
 upon an action of twenty thousand pounds, and clapped up in the Fleet; unto 
 which action, I being a stranger, could give no bail, but was there kept nearly 
 a whole year. How I suffered God he knows; but at last, having gained my 
 liberty, 1 thought good to advise with several gentlemen concerning his Ma- 
 jesty's gracious Act of Indemnity that was then set forth, in which I thought 
 myself concerned ; unto which they told me, there was no doubt to be made 
 but that all actions committed in the Isle of Man, relating in any kind to the 
 war, were pardoned by the Act of Indemnity, and all other places wilhin his 
 Majesty's dominions and countries. Whereupon, and having been forced to 
 absent myself from my poor wife and children near three years, being all that 
 time under persecution, I did with great content and satisfaction return into 
 this Island, hoping then to receive the comfort and sweet enjoyment of my 
 friends and poor family. But alas! I have fallen into the snare of the fowler ; 
 but my God shall ever be praised,— though he kill me, yet will I frust in him. 
 " *' I may justly say no man in this Island knows better than myself the power 
 the Lord Derby hath in this Island, subordinate to his sacred Majesty, of which 
 / have given a full account in my declaration presented to my judges, which 
 I much fear will never see light ', which is no small trouble to me. 
 
 ** It was his Majesty's most gracious Act of Indemnity gave me the confidence 
 and assurance of my safety , on which, and an appeal I made to his sacred Ma- 
 jesty and Privy Council, from the unjustness of the proceedings had against me, 
 I did much rely, being his Majesty's subject here, and a denizen of England both 
 by birth and fortune. And in regard I have disobeyed the power of my Lord 
 of Derby's Act of Indemnity, which you now look upon, and his Majesty's 
 Act cast out as being of no force, I have with greater violence been perse- 
 cuted ; yet nevertheless I do declare, that no subject whatever can or ought to 
 take upon them acts of indemnity but his sacred Majesty only, with the confir- 
 mation of Parliament, 
 
 " it is very fit I should say something as to my education and religion. I 
 
 The apprehension was but too corrrct. 
 
TO IIVTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 Ihink I need not inform you, for you all know, I was brought up a son of the 
 Church of England, which was at that time in her splendour and glory ; and to 
 my endless comfort I have ever since continued a faithful member, witness se- 
 veral of my actions in the late times of liberty. And as for government, I never 
 was against monarchy, which now, to my soul's great satisfaction, I have lived 
 to see is settled and established. I am well assured that men of upright life and 
 conversation may have the favourable countenance of our gracious King, under 
 whose happy government, God of his infinite mercy long continue these his 
 kingdoms and dominions. And now I do most heartily thank my good God that 
 I have had so much liberty and time to disburden myself of several things that 
 have laid heavy upon me all the time of my imprisonment, in which I have not 
 had time or liberty to speak or write any of my thoughts ; and from my soul I 
 wish all animosity may after my death be quite laid aside, and my death by 
 none be called in question, for I do freely forgive all that have had any hand in 
 my persecution : and may our good God preserve you all in peace and quiet the 
 remainder of your days ! 
 
 " Be ye all of you his Majesty's liege people, loyal and faithful to his sacred 
 Majesty ; and, according to your oath of faith and fealty to my Honourable Lord 
 of Derby, do you likewise, in all just and lawful ways, observe his com- 
 mands ; and know that you must one day give an account of all your deeds. And 
 now the blessing of Almighty God be with you all, and preserve you from vio- 
 lent death, and keep you in peace of conscience all your days ! 
 
 " I will now hasten, for my flesh is willing to be dissolved, and my spirit to 
 be with God, who hath given me full assurance of his mercy and pardon for all 
 ray sins, of which his unspeakable goodness and loving kindness my poor soul 
 Is exceedingly satisfied." 
 
 JYole '. Here he fell upon his knees, and passed some time in prayer; then 
 rising exceedingly cheerful, he addressed the soldiers appointed for his execu- 
 tion, saying — " Now for you, who are appointed by lot my executioners, I do 
 freely forgive you." He requested them and all present to pray for him, adding, 
 "There is but a thin veil betwixt me and death j once more I request your 
 prayers, for now I take my last farewell." 
 
 The soldiers wished to bind him to the spot on which he stood. He said, 
 " Trouble not yourselves or me ; for I that dare face death in whatever form he 
 comes, will not start at your fire and bullets; nor can the power you have deprive 
 me of my courage." At his desire a piece of white paper was given him, which 
 with the utmost composure he pinned to his breast, to direct them where to aim ; 
 and after a short prayer addressed the soldiers thus — " Hit this, and you do your 
 own and my work." And presently after, stretching forth his arms, which was 
 the signal he gave them, he was shot through the heart and fell. 
 
 Edward Christian, the nephew, and George, the son of the deceased, lost no 
 time in appealing to his Majesty in Council against this judicial murder; and 
 George was furnished with an order " to pass and repass," etc., -' and bring 
 with him such records and persons as he should desire, to make out the truth of 
 his complaint. " Edward returned with him to the Island for that purpose; for 
 we find him, in April 1665, compelled, in the true spirit of the day, to give bond 
 " that he would at all times appear and answer to such charges as might be pre- 
 ferred against him, and not depart the Isle without license." George was pre- 
 vented, by various contrivances, from serving the King's order; but on present- 
 ing a second petition, the Governor, Deemster, and Members of Council, were 
 brought up to London by a Sergeant-at-Arms ; and these six persons, together 
 with the Earl of Derby, being compelled to appear, a full hearing took place 
 before the Ring in person, the Chancellor, the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Chief 
 Baron, and other Members of Conncil; judgment was extended on the 5lh 
 
 ' This note is annexed to all the copies of the speecli. 
 
16 APPENDIX 
 
 August, and that judgment was on the 14th of the same month ordered " to be 
 printed in folio, in such manner as Acts of Parliament are usually printed, and 
 his Majesty's Arms preflxed." 
 
 This authenlic document designates the persons brought up as " Members 
 of the pretended Court of Justice," declares " that the general Act of Pardon 
 and Amnesty did extend to the Isle of Man, and ought to have been taken notice 
 of by the Judges in that Island, although it had not been pleaded, that the 
 Court refused to admit the deceased William Christian's plea of the Act of In- 
 demnity," etc. "Full restitution is ordered to be made to his heirs of all his 
 estates, real and personal." Three ' other persons '* who were by the same Court 
 of Justice imprisoned, and their estates seized and confiscated without any 
 legal trial," are ordered, together with the Christians, ♦* to be restored to all 
 their estates, real and personal, and to be fully repaired in all the charges and 
 expenses which they have been at since their first imprisonment, as well in the 
 prosecution of this business, as in their journey hither, or in any other way 
 thereunto relating." The mode of raising funds for the purposes of this restitu- 
 tion is equally peculiar and instructive ; these "sums of money are ordered to 
 be furnished by the Deemsters, Members, and Assistants of the said Court of 
 Justice," who are directed " to raise and make due payment thereof to the 
 parties." 
 
 " And to the end that the blood that has been unjustly spilt may in some sort 
 be expiated," etc., the Deemsters are ordered to be committed to the King's 
 Bench to be proceeded against, etc. etc., and receive condign punishment. (It 
 is believed that this part of the order was afterwards relaxed or rendered nuga- 
 tory.) The three Members of Council were released on giving security to appear, 
 if required, and to make the restitution ordered. " And in regard that Edward 
 Christian, being one of the Deemsters or Judges in the Isle of Man, did when 
 the Courtre fused to admit of the deceased W, F. Christian's pleaofthe Act 
 of Indemnity, make his protestation against their illegal proceedings y and 
 did withdraw himself, and come to England to solicit his Majesty and 
 implore his justice, it is ordered that the Earl of Derby do forthwith, by com- 
 mission, etc., restore and appoint him as Deemster, so to remain and continue, etc. 
 .[which order was disobeyed.] And lastly, that Henry Nowell, Deputy Governor, 
 whose fault hath been the not complying with, and yielding due obedience 
 to, the order ' of his Majesty and this Board sent unto the Island, [O most 
 lame and impotent conclusion ! ] be permitted to return to the Isle, and enforce 
 the present Order of the King in Council." 
 
 Of the Earl of Derby no farther mention occurs in this document. The sacri- 
 fices made by this noble family in support of the royal cause, drew a large share 
 of indulgence over the exceptionable parts of their conduct; but the mortifi- 
 cation necessarily consequent on this appeal, the incessant complaints of the 
 people, and the difficulty subsequently experienced by them in obtaining access 
 to a superior tribunal, receive a curious illustration in an order of the King 
 in Council, dated 20th August, 1670, on a petition of the Earl of Derby *' that 
 the Clerk of the Council in waiting receive no petition, appeal, or complaint, 
 against the Lord or government of the Isle of Man, without having first 
 good security from the complaint to answer costs, damages, and charges." 
 
 The historical notices of this kingdom ^ of Lilliput are curious and instructive 
 with reference to other times and different circumstances, and they have seemed 
 
 • Ewan Curphey, Samuel Ratcliffe, and John Caesar, men of considerable landed pro- 
 perty. 
 
 » Tradition, in accordance with the dirge of William Dhdne, says that the order to slop 
 proceedings and suspend the sentence arrived on the day preceding that of his execution. 
 
 3 Earl James, although studious of kingcraft, assigns good reasons for having never 
 pretended to assume that title, and among others," Nor doth it please a king that any of 
 his subjects should too much love that name, were it but to act in a play."— Peck, 438. 
 
TO INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 to require Utile coniraenl or antiquarian remark; but to condense what may 
 be collected with regard to Edward Christian, the accomplished villain of 
 Peveril, the insinuations of his accuser ' constitute in themselves an abundant 
 defence. When so little can be imputed by such an adversary, the character 
 must indeed be ioyulnerable. Tradition ascribes to him nothing but what is 
 amiable, patriotic, honourable, and good, in all the relations of public and 
 private life. He died, after an imprisonment of seven or eight years, the victim 
 of incorrigible obstinacy, according to one, of ruthless tyranny, according to 
 another vocabulary ; but resembling the character of the Novel in nothing but 
 unconquerable courage. 
 
 Treachery and ingratitude have been heaped on the memory of William 
 Christian with suflBcient profusion. Regarding the first of these crimes : if all 
 that has been affirmed or insinuated in the mock trial, rested on a less ques- 
 tionable basis, posterity would scarcely pronounce an unanimous verdict of 
 moral and political guilt, against an association to subvert such a government 
 as is described by its own author. The peculiar favours for which he or his 
 family were ungrateful, are not to be discovered in these proceedings; except, 
 indeed, in the form of " chastisements of the Almighty — blessings in disguise." 
 But if credit be given to the dying words of William Christian, his efforts were 
 strictly limited to a redress of grievances,— a purpose always criminal in the 
 eye of the oppressor. If he had lived and died on a larger scene, his memory 
 would probably have survived among the patriots and the heroes. In some of 
 the manuscript narratives he is designated as a martyr for the rights and liber- 
 ties of his countrymen ; who add, in their homely manner, that he was con- 
 demned without trial, and murdered without remorse. 
 
 We have purposely abstained from all attempt to enlist the passions in favour 
 of the sufferings of a people, or in detestation of oppressions, which ought, 
 perhaps, to be ascribed as much to the character of the times as that of in- 
 dividuals. The naked facts of the case (unaided by the wild and plaintive 
 notes in which the maidens of the isle were wont to bewail ''the" heart- 
 rending death of fair-haired ff^illiam") are sufficient of themselves to 
 awaken the sympathy of every generous mind ; and it were a more worthy 
 exercise of that despotic power over the imagination, so eminently possessed 
 by the Great Unknown, to embalm the remembrance of two such men in his 
 immortal pages, than to load their memories with crimes, such as no human 
 being ever committed. 
 
 I AM enabled to add the translation of the lament over the fair-haired William 
 Christian. It is originally composed in the Manx language, and consists of a 
 series of imprecations of evil upon the enemies of Christian, and prophecies to 
 the same purpose : — 
 
 0» the Death and Murder of Receiver-General William Christian of Ronaldsway, who 
 tvas shot near Hango Hill, January 2, 1662. 
 
 1. 
 
 In so shifting a scene, who would confidence place, 
 In family power, youth, or in personal grace ? 
 No character's proof against enmity foul ; • 
 
 And thy fate, William Dhdnc, sickens our soul. 
 
 2. 
 
 You are Derby's receiver of patriot zeal. 
 Replete with good sense, and reputed genteel, 
 Your justice applauded by the young and the old ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 * Peck, passim. 
 
 • The literal iraoslalion given to me by a young lady. 
 
18 APPENDIX 
 
 3. 
 
 A kind, able patron both to church and to state— 
 What roused iheir resentment but talents so great ? 
 ISo character's proof against enmity foul ; 
 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 4. 
 
 Thy pardon, 'tis rumour'd, came over the main, 
 Nor late, but conceal'd by a villain ' in grain ; 
 'Twas fear forced the jury to a sentence so foul ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 5. 
 
 Triumphant stood Golcott, he wish'd for no more, 
 When the pride of the Christians lay welt'ring in gore, 
 To malice a victim, though steady and bold ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 With adultery slain'd, and polluted with gore, 
 He Ronaldsway eyed, as LoghuecoUy before, 
 'Tv^as the land sought the culprit, as Ahab before; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 7. 
 
 Proceed to the once famed abode of the Nuns, 
 Call the Colcotts aloud, till you torture your lungs, 
 Their short triumph's ended, extinct is the whole ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 For years could Robert lay crippled in bed. 
 Nor knew the world peace while he held up his head, 
 The neighbourhood's scourge in iniquity bold ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 Not one's heard to grieve, seek the country all through. 
 Nor lament for the name that Bemacan once knew ; 
 The poor rather load it with curses untold ,- 
 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 10. 
 
 Ballaclogh and the Criggans mark strongly their sin. 
 Not a soul of the name's there to welcome you in .- 
 In the power of the strangers is centred the whole ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 The opulent Scarlett on which the sea flows. 
 Is piecemeal disposed of to whom the Lord knows ; 
 It is here without bread or defence from the cold ; 
 And thy fate, etc, 
 
 12. 
 
 They assert then in vain, that the law sought thy blood. 
 For all aiding tly; massacre never did good; 
 Like the rooted-up golding deprived of its gold, 
 They languish'd, were blasted, grew wither'd and old. 
 
 • A person named in the next stanza is said to have intercepted a pardon sent from 
 England for William Christian, found, it is said, in the foot of an old woman's stocking. 
 The tradition is highly improbable. If Christian had been executed against the tenor of 
 a pardon actually granted, it would not have failed to be charged as a high aggravation 
 in the subsequent proceedings of the Privy Council. 
 
TO INTRODUCTION. %9 
 
 13. 
 
 When the shoots of a tree so corrupted remain. 
 Like the briar or thistles they goad us with pain ; 
 Deep, dark, undermining, they mimic the mole ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 14. 
 
 Round the infamous wretches who spilt Caesar's blood. 
 Dead spectres and conscience in sad array stood, 
 JJot a man of the gang reach'd life's utmost goal ; 
 And thy fate, etc, 
 
 15. 
 
 Perdition, too, seized them who caused thee to bleed, 
 To decay fell their houses, their lands and their seed 
 Disappear'd like the vapour when morn's tinged with gold ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 16. 
 
 From grief all corroding, to hope I'll repair. 
 That a branch of the Christians will soon grace the chair, 
 "With royal instructions his foes to console; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 17. 
 
 With a book for my pillow, I dreamt as 1 lay, 
 That a branch of the Christians would hold Ronaldsway; 
 His conquests bis topic with friends o'er a bowl ; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 18. 
 
 And now for a wish in concluding my song, — 
 
 May th'Almighty withhold me from doing what's wrong ; 
 
 Protect every mortal from enmity foul. 
 
 For thy fate, William Dhdne, sickens our soul ' 
 
 No. II. 
 
 At the Court at Whitehall, 
 the 5th August, 1663. 
 
 George Christian, son and heir of WiHiam Christian, deceased, having ex- 
 hibited his complaint to his Majesty in Council, that his father, being at a house 
 of his in his Majesty's Isle of Man, was imprisoned by certain persons of that 
 island, pretending themselves to be a Court of Justice; that he was by them 
 accused of high treason, pretended to be committed against the Countess 
 Dowager of Derby, in the year 1651 ; and that they thereupon proceeded to 
 judgment, and caused him to be put to death, notwithstanding the act of 
 General Pardon and Indemnity, whereof he claimed the beneflt; and his appeal 
 to his Majesty, and humbly imploring his Majesty's princely compassion towards 
 the distressed widow and seven fatherless children of the deceased : His 
 Majesty was graciously pleased, with the advice of his council, to order that 
 Thomas Norris and Hugh Cannell, the two judges (by them in that island 
 
 I It may be recollected, that these verses are given through the medium of a meagre 
 translation, and are deprived of the aid of the music ; otherwise we should certainly think 
 t)ie memory of William Dhdne little honoured by his native bard. 
 
20 APPENDIX 
 
 called Deemsters), and Richard Stevenson, Robert Calcot, and Richard Tyldes- 
 ley, three of the members of the pretended Court of Justice, and Henry 
 Howell, deputy of the said island, should be forthwith sent for, and brought 
 up by a sergeant-at-arms here, before his Majesty in Council, to appear and 
 answer to such accusations as should be exhibited against them ; which said six 
 persons being accordingly brought hither the fifteenth day of July last appointed 
 for a full hearing of the whole business, the Earl of Derby then also summoned 
 to appear, and the Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, and the Lord Chief 
 Baron of his Majesty's Exchequer, with the King's Council, learned in the 
 laws, required to 'be present, and all the parties called in with their counsel 
 and witnesses, after full hearing of the matter on both sides, and the parties 
 withdrawn, the said Judges being desired to deliver their opinion, did in pre- 
 sence of the King's Council, learned in the laws, declare that the Act of General 
 Pardon and Indemnity did, and ought to be understood to, extend to the Isle of 
 Mann, as well as into any other of his Majesty's dominions and plantations 
 heyond the seas ; and that, being a publique General Act of Parliament, it 
 ought to have been taken notice of by the Judges in the Isle of Mann, although 
 it had not been pleaded, and although there were no proclamations made 
 thereof. His Majesty being therefore deeply sensible of this violation of his 
 Act of General Pardon, whereof his Majesty hath always been very tender, and 
 doth expect and require that all his subjects in all his dominions and planta- 
 tions shall enjoy the full beneflt and advantage of the same ; and having this 
 day taken the business into further consideration, and all parties called in and 
 heard, did, by and with the advice of the Council, order, and it is hereby or- 
 dered, that all persons any way concerned in the seizure of the estate of the said 
 William Christian, deceased, or instrumental in the ejection of the widow and 
 children out of their houses and fortune, do take care that entire restoration is 
 to be made of all the said estate, as well real or personal, as also all damages 
 sustained, with full satisfaction for all profits by them received since the said 
 estate hath been in their hands; and that, whereas the said William Christian, 
 deceased, was one of the two lives remaining in an estate in Lancashire, that 
 the detriment accruing by the untimely death of the said William Christian 
 therein, or in like cases, shall be estimated, and in like manner fully repaired. 
 That in regard of the great trouble and charges the complainants have been at 
 in pursuit of this business, ordered, that they do exhibit to this Board a true 
 account, upon oath, of all expences and damages by them sustained in the 
 journies of themselves and witnesses, and of all other their charges in the fol- 
 lowing of this business. 
 
 And whereas Ewan Curghey, Sammual Radcliffe, and John Caesar, were by 
 the same Court of Justice imprisoned, and had their estates seized and con- 
 fiscated, without any.legal trial, it is ordered, that the said Ewan Curghey, Sam- 
 mual Radcliffe, and John Caesar, be likewise reinstated to all their estates, real 
 and personall, and fully repaired in all the charges and expences which they 
 have been at since their first imprisonment, as well in the prosecution of this 
 business, as in their journey thither, or any other way whatsoever thereunto 
 relating. The which satisfaction, expences, and all the sums of money to be 
 raised by virtue of this order, are to be furnished by the Deemsters, Members, 
 and Assistants of the said Court of Justice, who are hereby ordered to raise all 
 such the said sums, and thereof to make due payment, and give full satisfaction 
 unto the parties respectively hereby appointed to receive it. 
 
 And to the end, the guilt of blood which hath been unjustly spilt, may in some 
 sort be expiated, and his Majesty receive some kind of satisfaction for the un- 
 timely loss of a subject, it is ordered, that the said Thomas Norris and Hugh 
 Cannell, who decreed this violent death, be committed, and remain prisoners in 
 the King's Bench, to be proceeded against in the ordinary course of justice, so 
 to receive condign punishment according to the merit of so heinous a fact. 
 
TO INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 That Ricbard Stevenson, Robert Calcot, and Ricbard Tyldesley, be discharged 
 from farther restraint, giving good security to appear at this Board whensoever 
 summoned, and not depart this city until full satisfaction be given, and all 
 orders of this Board whatsoever relating to this business fully executed in the 
 island. And in regard, that upon the examination of this business, it doth ap- 
 pear, that Edward Christian, being one of the Deemsters or Judges in the Isle of 
 Mann, did, when the Court refused to admit of the deceased William Christian's 
 plea of the Act of Indemnity, make his protestation against their illegal proceed- 
 ings, and did withdraw himself, and come into England to solicit his Majesty, 
 and implore his justice, it is ordered, that the Earl of Derby do forthwith, by 
 commission, in due and accustomed manner, restore, constitute, and appoint 
 the said Edward Christian, one of the Deemsters or Judges of the said island, so 
 to remain and continue in the due execution of the said place. 
 
 And lastly, it is ordered that the said Henry Howell, Deputy-Governor, whose 
 charge hath been the not complying with, and yielding due obedience to, the 
 orders of his Majesty, and this Board sent into this island, giving good security 
 to appear at this Board whensoever summoned, be forthwith discharged from all 
 further restraint, and permitted to return into the island ; and he is hereby 
 strictly commanded to employ the power and authority he hath, which by virtue 
 of his commission he hath in that island, in performance of, and obedience to, 
 all commands and orders of his Majesty and this Board in this whole business, 
 or any way relating thereunto. 
 
 (Signed by) 
 
 Lord Chancellor. . Earl of Carberry. 
 
 Lord Treasurer. Lord Bishop of London. 
 
 Lord Privy Seal. * Lord Wentworth. 
 
 Duke of Albeiniarlk. Lord Berkeley. 
 
 Lord Chamberlain. Lord Ashley. 
 
 Earl of Berkshire. Sir William Crompton. 
 
 * Earl of St. Alban. Mr. Treasurer. 
 
 Earl of Anglesey. Mr. Vice Chamberlain. 
 
 Earl of Sandwich. Mr. Secretary Morice. 
 
 Earl of Bath. Mr. Secretary Bennett. 
 
 Earl of Middleton. 
 
 Richard Browne, 
 
 Clerk of the CounciL 
 
22 APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION. 
 
 No. III. 
 
 At the Court at WhUehaU, 
 August Uth.imz. 
 
 Present. 
 The Ring's Most Excellent Majesty. 
 
 Lord Chancellor. Earl of Middleton. 
 
 Lord Treasurer. Earl of Carberry. 
 
 Lord Privy Seal. Lord Bishop of London. 
 
 Duke of Buckingham. Lord Went worth. 
 
 Duke of Albemarle. Lord Berkeley. 
 
 Lord Chamberlain. Lord Ashley. 
 
 Earl of Berkshire. Sir William Crompton. 
 
 Earl of St. Alban. Mr. Treasurer. 
 
 Earl of Sandwich. Mr. Vice Chamberlain. 
 
 Earl of Anglesey. Mr. Secretary Morice. 
 
 Earl of Bath. Mr. Secretary Bennett. 
 
 to the end the world may the belter take notice of his Majesty's royal inten- 
 tion, to observe the Act of Indemnity and General Pardon inviolably for the 
 publique good and satisfaction of his subjects' — it was this day ordered, that a 
 copy of the order of this Board of the ^h inst., touching the illegal proceedings 
 in the Isle of Mann against William Christian, and putting him'to death con- 
 trary to the said Act of General Pardon, be sent unto his Majesty's printer, who 
 is commanded forthwith to print the same in the English letters, in folio, in 
 such manner as Acts of Parliament are usually printed, and his flfajesty's 
 Arms preflxed. 
 
 Richard Browne. 
 
PREFAl ORY LETTER 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 REVEREND DOCTOR DRYASDUST OF YORK, 
 
 TO 
 
 CAPTAIN CLUTTERBUCK, 
 
 AESIDING AT FAIRY-LODGE, NEAR KENNAQUHAIR, N.B. 
 
 Very worthy and dhar Sir, 
 
 To your last letter I might have answered, with the classic, " Hand equidem 
 invidco, miror magis." For though my converse, from infancy, has been with 
 things of antiquity, yet I love not ghosts or spectres to be commentators 
 thereon ; and truly your account of the conversation you held with our great 
 parent, in the crypt, or most intimate recess of the publishers at Edinburgh, 
 had upon me much the effect of the apparition of Hector's phantom on Ihe hero 
 of the iEneid — 
 
 " Obslupui, sleleruntque comae." 
 
 And, as I said above, i repeat that I wondered at the Vision, without envying 
 you the pleasure of seeing our great progenitor. But it seems that he is now 
 permitted to show himself to his family more freely than formerly ; or that the 
 old gentleman is turned somewhat garrulous in these latter days ; or, in short, 
 not to exhaust your patience with conjectures of the cause, I also have seen the 
 Vision of the Author of Waverley. I do not mean to take any undue state on 
 myself, when I observe, that this interview was marked wilh circumstances in 
 some degree more formally complaisant than those which attended your meet- 
 ing wilh him in our worthy publisher's ; for yours had the appearance of a for- 
 tuitous rencontre, whereas mine was preceded by the communication of a large 
 roll of papers, containing a new history called Peveril of the Peak. 
 
 I no sooner found that this manuscript consisted of a narrative, running to 
 the length of perhaps three hundred and thirty pages in each volume, or there- 
 abouts, than it instantly occurred to me from whom this boon came j and hav- 
 ing set myself to peruse the written sheets, I began to entertain strong expecta- 
 tions that I might, peradventure, next see the author himself. 
 
 Again, it seems to me a marked circumstance, that, whereas an inner aparl- 
 ment of xMr. Constable's shop was thought a place of sufficient solemnity for 
 your audience, our venerable senior w'as pleased to afford mine in the recesses 
 of my own lodgings, iyUra /jflr?>^r.«,as it were, and vilhout the chance of in- 
 
24 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 terniption. I must also remark, that the features, form , and dress of the Ei- 
 dolon, as you well term the apparition of our parent, seemed to me more pre- 
 cisely distinct than was vouchsafed to you on the former occasion. Of this 
 hereafter J but Heaven forbid I should glory or set up any claim of superiority 
 over the other descendants of our common parent, from such decided marks of 
 his preference — Laus propria sordel. I am well satisfled that the honour was 
 bestowed not on my person, but my cloth — that the preference did not elevate 
 Jonas Dryasdust over Clutterbuck, but the Doctor of Divinity over the Captain. 
 Cedant arma togm—ai maxim never to be forgotten at any time, but especially 
 to be remembered when the soldier is upon half-pay. 
 
 But I bethink me that I am keeping you all this while in the porch, and 
 wearying you with long inductions, when you would have me properare in me- 
 diam rem. As you will, it shall be done j for, as his Grace is wont to say of 
 me wittily, " No man tells a story so well as Dr. Dryasdust, when he has once 
 got up to the starting post," — jocose hoc. But to continue. 
 
 I had skimmed the cream of the narrative which I had received about a week 
 before, and that with no small cost and pain ; for the hand of our parent is be- 
 come so small and so crabbed, that I was obliged to use strong magnifiers. 
 Feeling my eyes a little exhausted towards the close of the second volume, I 
 leaned back in my easy-chair, and began to consider whether several of the 
 objections which have been particularly urged against our father and patron, 
 might not be considered as applying, in an especial manner, to the papers I had 
 just perused. *' Here are figments enough," said I to myself, "to confuse the 
 march of a whole history— anachronisms enough to overset all chronology ! The 
 old gentleman hath broken all hounds— abiit — evasit—ernpil." 
 
 As these thoughts passed through my mind, I fell into a fit of musing, which 
 is not uncommon with me after dinner, when I am altogether alone, or have 
 no one with me but my curate. I was awake, however, for I remember seeing, 
 in the embers of the fire, a representation of a mitre, with the towers of a ca- 
 thedral in the background ; moreover, I recollect gazing for a certain time on 
 the comely countenance of Dr. Whiterose, my uncle by the mother's side — the 
 same who is mentioned in The Heart of Mid-Lotihais' — whose portrait, graceful 
 in wig and canonicals, hangs above my mantel-piece. Farlher, I remember 
 marking the flowers in the frame of carved oak, and casting my eye on the 
 pistols which hang beneath, being the fire-arms with which, in the eventful 
 year 1745, my uncle meant to have espoused the cause of Prince Charles Ed- 
 ward ; for, indeed, so little did he esteem personal safety, in comparison of 
 steady high-church principle, that he waited but the news of the Adventurer's 
 reaching London to hasten to join his standard. 
 
 Such a doze as I then enjoyed, I find compatible with indulging the best and 
 deepest cogitations which at any time arise in my mind. I chew the cud of 
 sweet and bitter fancy, in a state betwixt sleeping and waking, which I con- 
 sider as so highly favourable to philosophy, that I have no doubt some of its 
 most distingushed systems have been composed under its influence. My servant 
 is, therefore, instructed to tread as if upon down — my door-hinges are carefully 
 oiled— and all appliances used to prevent me from being prematurely and 
 harshly called back to the broad waking day of a laborious world. My custom, 
 in this particular, is so well known, that the very schoolboys cross the alley on 
 tiptoe, betwixt the hours of four and five. My cell is the very dwelling of Mor- 
 pheus. There is indeed a bawling knave of a broom-man, quern ego— Hut thii 
 is matter for the Quarter-Sessions. 
 
 As my head sunk back upon the easy-chair in the philosophical mood which 
 I have just described, and the eyes of my body began to close, in order, doubt- 
 less, that those of my understanding might be the more widely opened, I was 
 startled by a knock at the door, of a kind more authoritatively boisterous than 
 is given at that hour by any visitor acquainted with my habits. I started up in 
 
PREFATORY LETTER. 25 
 
 my seat, and heard the step of my servant hurrying along the passage, followed 
 by a very heavy and measured pace, which shook the long oak-floored gallery 
 in such a manner, as forcibly to arrest my attention. " A stranger, sir, just 
 arrived from Edinburgh by the North Mail, desires to speak with your Reve- 
 rence." Such were the words with which Jacob threw the door to the wall ; 
 and the startled tone in which he pronounced them, although there was no- 
 thing particular in the annunciation itself, prepared me for the approach of a 
 visitor of uncommon dignity and importance. 
 
 The Author of Waverley entered, a bulky and tall man, in a travelling great- 
 coat, which covered a suit of snuff brown, cut in imitation of that worn by the 
 great Rambler. His flapped hat— for he disdained the modern frivolities of a 
 travelling cap — was bound over his head with a large silk handkerchief, so as to 
 protect his ears from cold at once, and from the babble of his pleasant compa- 
 nions in the public coach from which he had just alighted. There was some- 
 what of a sarcastic shrewdness and sense, which sat on the heavy penthouse of 
 his shaggy grey eyebrow— his features were in other respects largely shaped, 
 and rather heavy, than promising wit or genius; but he had a notable projec- 
 tion of the nose, similar to that line of the Latin poet,— 
 
 " Immodicum surgit pro cuspide rostrum." 
 
 A stout walking-stick stayed his hand — a double Barcelona protected his neck — 
 his belly was something prominent, "but that's not much,"— his breeches were 
 substantial thickset' — and a pair of topboots, which were slipped down to ease 
 his sturdy calves, did not conceal his comfortable travelling stockings of lamb's 
 wool, wrought, not on the loom, but on wires, and after the venerable ancient 
 fashion, known in Scotland by the name of ridge-and- furrow. His age 
 seemed to be considerably above fifty, but could not amount to threescore, 
 which I observed with pleasure, trusting there may be a good deal of work had 
 out of him yet ; especially as a general haleness of appearance— the compass 
 and strength of his voice— the steadiness of his step— the rotundity of his calf 
 — the depth of his hem, and the sonorous emphasis of his sneeze, were all signs 
 of a constitution built for permanence. 
 
 It struck me forcibly, as 1 gazed on this portly person, that he realized, in my 
 imagination, the Stout Gentleman in No. II., who afforded such subject of 
 varying speculation to our most amusing and elegant Utopian traveller. Master 
 Geoffrey Crayon. Indeed, but for one little trait in the conduct of the said 
 Stout Gentleman— I mean the gallantry towards his landlady, a thing which 
 would greatly derogate from our Senior's character— I should be disposed to 
 conclude that Master Crayon had, on that memorable occasion, actually passed 
 his time in the vicinity of the Author of Waverley. But our worthy patriarch, 
 be it spoken to his praise, far from cultivating the society of the fair sex, 
 seems, in avoiding the company of womankind, rather to imitate the humour 
 of our friend and relation, Master Jonathan Oldbuck, as I was led to conjec- 
 ture, from a circumstance which occurred immediately after his entrance. 
 
 Having acknowledged his presence with fitting thanks and gratulations, I 
 proposed to my venerated visitor, as the refreshment best suited to the hour 
 of the day, to summon my cousin and house-keeper. Miss Catharine Whiterose, 
 with the tea-equipage; but he rejected my proposal with disdain, worthy of 
 the Laird of Monkbarns. "No scandal-broth," he exclaimed; "no unidea'd 
 woman's chatter for me. Fill the frothed tankard— slice the fatted rump— I 
 desire no society but yours, and no refreshment but what the cask and the 
 gridiron can supply." 
 
 The beefsteak, and toast, and tankard, were speedily got ready; and whether 
 an apparition, or a bodily presentation, my visitor displayed dexterity as a 
 
26 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 trencherman, which might have attracted the envy of a hungry hnnter, aftef 
 a fox-chase of forty miles. Neither did he fail to make some deep and solemn 
 appeals, not only to the tankard aforesaid, but to two decanters of London 
 particular Madeira and old Port; the first of which I had extracted from its 
 ripening place of depositation, within reach of the genial warmth of the oven ; 
 the other, from a deep crypt in mine own ancient cellar, which whilom may 
 have held the vintages of the victors of the world, the arch being composed of 
 Roman brick. I could not help admiring and congratulating the old gentleman 
 upon the vigorous appetite which he displayed for the genial cheer of old 
 England. "Sir," was his reply, "I must eat as an Englishman, to qualify 
 myself for taking my place at one of the most select companies of right English 
 spirits, which ever girdled in, and hewed asunder, a mountainous sirloin, and a 
 generous plum-pudding." 
 
 I enquired, but with all deference and modesty, whither he was bound, and 
 to what distinguished Society he applied a description so general. I shall pro- 
 ceed in humble imitation of your example, to give the subsequent dialogue in a 
 dramatic form, unless when description becomes necessary. 
 
 Author of JVaverlerj. To whom should I apply such a description, save to 
 the only Society to whom it can be thoroughly applicable—those unerring judges 
 of old books and old wine— the Roxburgh Club of London ? Have you not heard 
 that I have been chosen a member of that Society of select Bibliomaniacs ' ? 
 
 Dryasdust. (Rummaging in his pocket.) I did hear something of it from 
 Captain Clulterbuck, who wrote to me*— ay, here is his letter— that such a re- 
 port was current among the Scottish antiquaries, who were much alarmed lest 
 you should be seduced into the heresy of preferring English beef to seven-year- 
 old black-faced mutton, Maraschino to whisky, and turtle-soup to cock-a-leekie ; 
 in which case, they must needs renounce you as a lost man. — "But," adds our 
 friend, looking at the letter— his hand is rather of a military description, better 
 used to handle the sword than the pen—" Our friend is so much upon the 
 SHUN"— the shun, I think it is— "that it must be no light temptation which 
 Will withdraw him from his incognito." 
 
 Author. No light temptation, unquestionably; but this is a powerful one, 
 to hob -or -nob with the lords of the literary treasures of Althorpe and Hodnet, 
 in Madeira negus, brewed by the classical Dibdin — to share those profound 
 debates which stamp accurately on each "small volume, dark with tarnished 
 gold," its collar, not of S. S. but of R. R.— to toast the immortal memory of 
 Caxton, Valdarar, Pynson, and the other fathers of that great art which has 
 made all, and each of us, what we are. These, my dear son, are temptations, 
 to which you see me now in the act of resigning that quietchimney-corner of life 
 in which, unknowing and unknown — -save by means of the hopeful family to 
 which I have given birth — I proposed to wear out the end of life's eveniiig 
 grey. 
 
 So saying, our venerable friend took another emphatic touch of the tankard, 
 as If the very expression had suggested that specific remedy against the evils 
 of life, recommended in the celebrated response of Johnson's anchorite — 
 
 " Come, my lad, and drink some beer." 
 
 When he had placed on the table the silver tankard, and fetched a deep sigh 
 lo collect the respiration which the long draught had interrupted, I could nut 
 
 ' The author has pride in recording, thai he had the honour to be elected a member of 
 <his distinguished association, merely as the Author of Waverley, without any other de- 
 signation ; and it was an additional inducement to throw off the mask of an anonymous 
 author, thai it u;ives him a right to occupy the vacant chair at that festive board. 
 
prUfatorv letter. 5? 
 
 help echoing it, in a note so pathetically compassionate, that he fixed his eyes 
 on me with surprise. "How is this?" said he, somewhat angrily; *'do you, 
 the creature of my will, grudge me my preferment ? Have I dedicated to you, 
 and your fellows, the best hours of my life for these seven years past; and do 
 you presume to grumble or repine, because, in those which are to come, I seek 
 for some enjoyment of life in society so congenial to my pursuits?" I humbled 
 myself before the offended Senior, and professed my innocence in all that could 
 possibly give him displeasure. He seemed partly appeased, but still bent on me 
 an eye of suspicion, while he questioned me in the words of old Norton, in th6 
 ballad of the "Rising in the North Country." 
 
 Author. What wouldst ihou have, Francis Norton ? 
 
 Thou art my youngest son and heir ; 
 Something lies brooding at thy heart— 
 
 Whate'er it be, to me declare. 
 
 Dryasdust, Craving, then, your paternal forgiveness for my presumptiohj 
 i only sighed at the possibility of your venturing yourself amongst a body of 
 critics, to whom, in the capacity of skilful antiquaries, the investigation of 
 truth is an especial duty, and who may therefore visit with the more severe 
 censure those aberrations, which it is so often your pleasure to make from the 
 path of true history. 
 
 Author. I understand you. You mean to say these learned persons will have 
 but little toleration for a romance, or a fictitious narrative, founded upon 
 history ? 
 
 Dryasdust. Why, sir, I do rather apprehend, that their respect for the 
 foundation will be such, that they may be apt to quarrel with the inconsistent 
 nature of the superstructure; just as every classical traveller pours forth 
 expressions of sorrow and indignation, when in travelling through Greece, he 
 chances to see a Turkish kiosk rising on the ruins of an ancient temple. 
 
 Author. But since we cannot rebuild the temple, a kiosk may be a pretty 
 thing, may it not! Not quite correct in architecture, strictly and classi.cally 
 criticised; but presenting something uncommon to the eye, and something;! 
 fantastic to the imagination, on which the spectator gazes with pleasure of the 
 same description which arises from the perusal of an Eastern tale. 
 
 Dryasdust. I am unable to dispute with you in metaphor, sir ; but I must 
 say, in discharge of my conscience, that you stand much censured for adulte- 
 rating the pure sources of historical knowledge. You approach them, men say^ 
 like the drunken yeoman, who, once upon a lime, polluted the crystal spring 
 which supplied the thirst of his family, with a score of sugar loaves and a hogs- 
 head of rum ; and thereby converted a simple and wholesome beverage into a 
 stupifying, brutifying, and intoxicating fluid; sweeter, indeed, to the taste, 
 than the natural lymph, but, for that very reason, more seductively dangerous. 
 
 Author. I allow your metaphor. Doctor ; but yet, though good punch cannot 
 supply the want of spring-water, it is, when modestly used, no malum in se ; 
 and 1 should have thought it a shabby thing of the parson of the parish, had 
 he helped to drink out the well on Saturday nightj and preached against the 
 honest hospitable yeoman on Sunday morning. I should have answered him, 
 that the very flavour of the liquor should have put him at once upon hi« 
 guard ; and that if he had taken a drop over much, he ought to blame his 
 own imprudence more than the hospitality of his entertainer. 
 
 Dryasdust. I profess I do not exactly see how this applies. 
 
 Author. No ; you are one of those numerous disputants, who will ncvpf 
 
28 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 follow Iholr metaphor a step farther than it goes their own way. A poor 
 fellow, lilve myself, weary with ransacking his own barren and bounded ima- 
 gination, looks out for some general subject in the huge and boundless field 
 of history, which holds forth examples of every kind— lights on some personage, 
 or some combination of circumstances, or some striking trait of manners, 
 which he thinks may be advantageously used as the basis of a fictitious nar- 
 rative—bedizens it with such colouring as his skill suggests — ornaments it 
 with such romantic circumstances as may heighten the general eCfect — invests 
 it with such shades of character, as will best contrast with each other— and 
 thinks, perhaps, he has done some service to the public, if he can present to 
 .them a lively fictitious picture, for which the original anecdote or circumstance 
 which he made free to press into his service, only furnished a slight sketch. 
 Now I cannot perceive any harm in this. The stores of history are accessible to 
 every one; and are no more exhausted or impoverished by the hints thus bor- 
 rowed from them, than the fountain is drained by the water which we subtract 
 for domestic purposes. And in reply to the sober charge of falsehood, against a 
 narrative announced positively to be fictitious, one can only answer, by Prior's 
 exclamation, 
 
 " Odzooks, must one swear to the truth of a song?" 
 
 Dryasdust. Nay j but I fear me that you are here eluding the charge. Men 
 do not seriously accuse you of misrepresenting history; althugh I assure you I 
 have seen some grave treatises, in which it was thought necessary to contradict 
 your assertions. 
 
 Author. That certainly was to point a discharge of artillery against a wreath 
 of morning mist. 
 
 Dryasdust. But besides, and especially, it is said that you are in danger of 
 causing history to be neglected— readers being contented with such frothy and 
 superficial knowledge as they acquire from your works, to the effect of inducing 
 them to neglect the severer and more accurate sources of information. 
 
 Author. I deny the consequence. On the contrary, I rather hope that I have 
 turned the attention of the public on various points, which have received eluci- 
 dation from writers of more learning and research, in consequence of my 
 novels having attached some interest to them. I might give instances, but I 
 hale vanity— I hate vanity. The history of the divining rod is well known— it is 
 a slight valueless twig in itself, but indicates, by its motion, where veins of 
 precious metal are concealed below the earth, which afterwards enrich the 
 adventurers by whom they are laboriously and carefully wrought. I claim no 
 more merit for my historical hints ; but this is something. 
 
 Dryasdust. We severer antiquaries, sir, may grant that this is true ; to wit, 
 that your works may occasionally have put men of solid judgment upon re- 
 searches which they would not perhaps have otherwise thought of undertaking. 
 But this will leave you still accountable for misleading the young, the indolent, 
 and the giddy, by thrusting into their hands, works, which, while they have so 
 much the appearance of conveying information, as may prove perhaps a salve to 
 their consciences for employing their leisure in the perusal, yet leave their 
 giddy brains contented with the crude, uncertain, and often false statements, 
 which your novels abound with. 
 
 Author. It would be very unbecoming in me, reverend sir, to accuse a 
 gentleman of your cloth of cant ; but, pray, is there not something like it in 
 the pathos with which you enforce these dangers? I aver, on the contrary, tha t 
 by introducing the busy and the youthful to «' truths severe in fairy fiction 
 
PREFATORY LETTER. 29 
 
 dressed '," I am doing a real service to the more ingenious and the more 
 apt among them; for the love of knowledge wants but a beginning— the least 
 spark wiir give fire when the train is properly prepared; and having been 
 interested in fictitious adventures, ascribed to an historical period and charac- 
 ters, the reader begins next to be anxious to learn what the facts really were, 
 and how far the novelist has justly represented them. 
 
 But even where the mind of the more careless reader remains satisfied with 
 the light perusal he has afforded to a tale of fiction, he will still lay down the 
 book with a degree of knowledge, not perhaps of the most accurate kind, but 
 such as he might not otherwise have acquired. Nor is this limited to minds of 
 a low and incurious description ; but, on the contrary, comprehends many per- 
 sons otherwise of high talents, who, nevertheless, either from lack of time, or 
 of perseverance, are willing to sit down contented with the slight information 
 which is acquired in such a manner. The great Duke of Marlborough, for 
 example, having quoted, in conversation, some fact of English history rather 
 inaccurately, was requested to name his authority. " Shakspeare's- Historical 
 Play's," answered theconqueror of Blenheim ; ** the only English history I ever 
 read in my life." And a hasty recollection will convince any of us how much 
 better we are acquainted with those parts of English history which that immor- 
 tal bard has dramatized, than with any other portion of British story. 
 
 Dryasdust. And you, worthy sir, are ambitious to render a similar service 
 to posterity? 
 
 Author. May the saints forefend I should be guilty of such unfounded vanity ! 
 I only show what has been done when there were giants in the land. We pig- 
 mies of the present day, may at least, however, do something ; and it is well to 
 keep a pattern before our eyes, though that pattern be inimitable. 
 
 Dryasdust. Well, sir, with me you must have your own course ; and for 
 reasons well known to you, it is impossible for me to reply to you in argument. 
 But I doubt if all you have said will reconcile the public to the anachronisms of 
 your present volumes. Here you have a Countess of Derby fetched out of her 
 cold grave, and saddled with a set of adventures dated twenty years after her 
 death, besides being given up as a Catholic, when she was in fact a zealous 
 Huguenot. 
 
 Author. She may sue me for damages, as in the case Dido versus Virgil. 
 
 Dryasdust. A worse fault is, that your manners are even more incorrect 
 than usual. Your Puritan is faintly traced, in comparison to your Cameronian. 
 
 Author. I agree to the charge; but although I still consider hypocrisy and 
 enthusiasm as fit food for ridicule and satire, yet I am sensible of the difficul- 
 ty of holding fanaticism up to laughter or abhorrence , without using colouring 
 which may give offence to the sincerely worthy and religious. Many things are 
 lawful which we are taught are not convenient; and there are many tones of 
 feeling which are too respectable to be insulted, though we do not altogether 
 sympathize with them. 
 
 Dryasdust. Not to mention, my worthy sir, that perhaps you may think the 
 subject exhausted. 
 
 Author. The devil take the men of this generation for putting the worst con- 
 struction on their neighbour's conduct ! 
 
 ' The Doctor has denied the author's title to shelter himself under this quotation : but 
 the author continues to think himself entitled to all the shelter, which, threadbare as it 
 is, it may yet be able to afford him. The truth severe applies not to the narrative itself, 
 but to the moral it conveys, in which the author has not been thought deficient. The 
 *' fairy fiction " is the conduct of the story which the tale is invented to elucidate. 
 
30 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 So saying, and flinging a testy sort of adieu towards rae with his hand, he 
 opened the door, and ran hastily down stairs. I started on my feet, and rang 
 for my servant, who instantly came. I demanded what had become of the 
 stranger— he denied that any such had been admitted— I pointed to the empty 
 decanters, and he— he — he had the assurance to intimate that such vacancies 
 were sometimes made when I had no better company than my own. I do not 
 know what to make of this doubtful matter, but will certainly imitate your 
 example, in placing this dialogue, with my present letter, at the head of Peveril 
 OF THE Peak. I am, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Very much your faithful and 
 obedient servant, 
 
 Jonas Dryasdust, 
 
 Michaelmas-day, 1822, 
 York. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 When civil dudgeon first grew high, 
 And men fell out they knew not why; 
 When foul words, jealousies, and fears, 
 Set folk together by the ears— 
 
 , Btjtler. 
 
 William, the Conqueror of England, was, or supposed himself 
 lo be, the father of a certain William Peveril, who attended him 
 lo the battle of Hastings, and there distinguished himself. The 
 liberal-minded monarch, who assumed in his charters the veritable 
 title of Gulielmus Bastardus, was not likely to let his son's illegi- 
 timacy be any bar to the course of his royal favour, when the laws 
 of England were issued from the mouth of the Norman victor, and 
 the lands of the Saxons were at his unlimited disposal, William 
 Peveril obtained a liberal grant of property and lordships in Derby- 
 shire, and became the erector of that Gothic fortress, which, hang- 
 ing over the moulh of the Devil's Cavern, so well known to tourists, 
 gives the name of Castleton to the adjacent village. 
 
 From this feudal Baron, who chose his nest upon the principles 
 on which an eagle selects her eyry, and built it in such a fashion as 
 if he had intended it, as an Irishman said of the Martello towers, 
 for the sole purpose of puzzling posterity, there was, or conceived 
 themselves to be, descended (for their pedigree was rather hypothe- 
 tical) an opulent family of knightly rank, in the same county of 
 Derby. The great fief of Caslleton, with its adjacent wastes and 
 forests, and all the wonders which they contain, had been for- 
 feited in King John's stormy days, by one William Peveril, and had 
 been granted anew to the Lord Ferrers of that day. Yet this Wil- 
 liam's descendants, though no longer possessed of what they alleged 
 to have been their original property, were long distinguished by 
 the proud title of the Peverils of the Peak, which served to mark 
 their high descent, and lofty pretensions. 
 
 In Charles the Second's time, the representative of this ancient 
 family was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, a man who had many of the ordi- 
 nary attributes of an old-fashioned country gentleman, aqd very few 
 individual traits lo distinguish him from the general portrait of 
 that worthy class of mankind. He was proud of small advantages, 
 
32 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 angry at small disappointments, incapable of forming any resolu- 
 tion or opinion abstracted from his own prejudices — he was proud 
 of his birth, lavish in his housekeeping, convivial with those kin- 
 dred and acquaintances, who would allow his superiority in rank — 
 contentious and quarrelsome with all that crossed his pretensions 
 — kind to the poor, except when they plundered his game — a roy- 
 alist in his political opinions, and one who detested alike a Round- 
 head, a poacher, and a Presbyterian. In religion Sir Geoffrey was 
 a high-churchman, of so exalted a strain that many thought he still 
 nourished in private the Roman Catholic tenets, which his family 
 had only renounced in his father's time, and that he had a dispensa- 
 tion for conforming in outward observances to the Protestant faith. 
 There was at least such a scandal amongst the Puritans, and the 
 influence which Sir Geoffrey Peveril certainly appeared to possess 
 amongst the Catholic gentlemen of Derbyshire and Cheshire, 
 seemed to give countenance to the rumour. 
 
 Such was Sir Geoffrey, who might have passed to his grave with- 
 out farther distinction than a brass-plate in the chancel, had he not 
 lived in times which forced the most inactive spirits into exertion, 
 as a tempest influences the sluggish waters of the deadest meer. 
 When the Civil Wars broke out, Peveril of the Peak, proud from 
 pedigree, and brave by constitution, raised a regiment for the King, 
 and showed upon several occasions more capacity for command 
 than men had heretofore given him credit for. 
 
 Even in the midst of the turmoil, he fell in love with, and mar- 
 ried, a beautiful and amiable young lady of the noble house of 
 Stanley^ and from that time had the more merit in his loyalty, as it 
 divorced him from her society, unless at very brief intervals, when 
 his duty permitted an occasional visit to his home. Scorning lobe 
 allured from his mililary duly by domestic inducements, Peveril of 
 the Peak fought on for several rough years of civil war, and per- 
 formed his part with sufficient gallantry, until his regiment was 
 surprised and cut to pieces by Poyntz, Cromwell's enterprising and 
 successful general of cavalry. The defeated Cavalier escaped from 
 the field of battle, and, like a true descendant of William the Con- 
 querer, disdaining submission, threw himself into his own castel- 
 lated mansion, which was attacked and defended in a siege of that 
 irregular kind which caused the destruction of so many baronial 
 residences during the course of those unhappy wars. Martindale 
 Castle, after having suffered severely from the cannon which Crom- 
 well himself brought against it, was at length surrendered when in 
 the last extremity. Sir Geoffrey himself became a prisoner, and 
 while his liberty was only restored upon a promise of remaining a 
 peaceful subject to the Comiyionwealth in future, his former delin- 
 quencies, as Ihey were termed by the ruling parly, were severely 
 punished by fine and sequestration. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 33 
 
 But neither his forced promise, nor the fear of farther unpleas- 
 ant consequences to his person or property, could prevent Peveril 
 of the Peak from joining the gallant Earl of Derby the night before 
 the fatal engagement in Wiggan-lane, where the Earl's forces were 
 dispersed. Sir Geoffrey having had his share in that action, es- 
 caped with the relics of the royalists after the defeat, to join Charles II. 
 He witnessed also the final defeat of Worcester, where he was a 
 second time made prisoner ; and as, in the opinion of Cromwell and 
 the language of the times, he was regarded as an obstinate malig- 
 nant, he was in great danger of having shared with the Earl of 
 Derby his execution at Bolton-le-Moor, having partaken with him 
 the dangers of two actions. But Sir Geoffrey's life was preserved 
 by the interest of a friend, who possessed influence in the councils 
 of OHver. This was a Mr. Bridgenorth, a gentleman of middling 
 quality, whose father had been successful in some commercial ad- 
 venture during the peaceful reign of James I. ; and who had be- 
 queathed his son a considerable sum of money, in addition to the 
 moderate patrimony which he inherited from his father. 
 
 The substantial, though small-sized brick building of Moultrassie 
 Hall, was but two miles distant from Marlindale Castle, and the 
 young Bridgenorth attended the same school with the heir of the 
 Peverils. A sort of companionship, if not intimacy, took place be- 
 twixt them, which continued during their youthful sports— -the rather 
 that Bridgenorth, though he did not at heart admit Sir Geoffrey's 
 claims of superiority to the extent which the other's vanity would 
 have exacted, paid deference in a reasonable degree to the representa- 
 tive of afamily so much more ancient andimportant than his own, with- 
 out conceiving that he in any respect degraded himself by doing so. 
 
 Mr. Bridgenorth did not, however, carry his complaisance so far 
 as to embrace Sir Geoffrey's side during the Civil War. On the con- 
 trary, as anactive Justice of the Peace, he rendered much assistance 
 in arraying the militia in the cause of the Parliament, and for some 
 limeheld a military commission in that service. This was partly owing 
 to his religious principles, for he was a zealous Presbyterian, partly 
 to his pohtical ideas, which, without being absolutely democratical, 
 favoured the popular side of the great national question. Besides, 
 he was a moneyed man, and to a certain extent had a shrewd eye 
 to his worldly interest. He understood how to improve the oppor- 
 tunities which civil war afforded, of advancing his fortune, by a 
 dexterous use of his capital ^ and he was> not at a loss to perceive 
 that these were likely to be obtained by joining the Parliament; 
 while the King's cause, as it was managed, held out nothing to the 
 wealthy but a course of exaction and compulsory loans. For these 
 reasons, Bridgenorth became a decided Roundhead, and all friend- 
 ly communication betwixt his neighbour and him was abruptly 
 broken asunder. This was done with the less a<'rimony, that, dur- 
 
 3 
 
34 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 ing the Civil War, Sir Geoffrey was almost constantly in the field, 
 following the vacillaling and unhappy fortunes of his master; while 
 Major Bridgenorth, who soon renounced active military service, 
 resided chiefly in London, and only occasionally \isited the Hall. 
 
 Upon these visits, it was with great pleasure he received the in- 
 telligence, that Lady Peveril had shown much kindness to Mrs. 
 Bridgenorth, and had actually given her and her family shelter in 
 Martindale Caslle, when Moultrassie Hall was threatened with pil- 
 lage by a body of Prince Rupert's ill-disciplined Cavaliers. This 
 acquaintance had been matured by frequent walks together, which 
 the vicinity of their places of residence suffered the Lady Peveril 
 to have with Mrs. Bridgenorth, who deemed herself much ho- 
 noured in being thus admitted into the society of so distinguished 
 a Lady. Major Bridgenorth heard of this growing intimacy with 
 great pleasure, and he determined to repay the obligation, as far 
 as he could without much hurt to himself, by interfering with all his 
 influence, in behalf of her unfortunate husband. It was chiefly 
 owing to Major Bridgenorth's mediation, that Sir Geoff'rey's life 
 was saved after the battle of Worcester. He obtained him permis- 
 sion to compound for his estate on easier terms than many who 
 had been less obstinate in malignancy •, and, finally, when, in 
 order to raise the money to pay the composition, the Knight was 
 obliged to sell a considerable portion of his patrimony. Major 
 Bridgenorth became the purchaser, and that at a larger price than 
 had been paid to any Cavalier under such circumstances, by a 
 member of the Committee for Sequestrations. It is true, the 
 prudent Committeeman did not, by any means, lose sight of his 
 own interest in the transaction, for the price was, after all, very 
 moderate, and the property lay adjacent to Moultrassie Hall, the 
 value of which was at least trebled by the acquisition. But then 
 it was also Irue, that the unfortunate owner must have submitted 
 to much worse conditions, had the committeeman used, as others 
 did, the full advantages which his situation gave him ; and Bridge- 
 north took credit to himself, and received it from others, for hav- 
 ing, on this occasion, fairly sacrificed his interest to his liberality. 
 
 Sir Geoffrey Peveril was of the same opinion, and the rather that 
 Mr. Bridgenorth seemed to bear his exultation with great modera- 
 tion, and was disposed to show him personally the same deference 
 in his present sunshine of prosperity, which he had exhibited for- 
 merly in their early acquaintance. It is but justice to Major Bridge- 
 north to observe, that in this conduct he paid respect as much to the 
 misfortunes as to the pretensions of his far-descended neighbour, and 
 that, with the frank generosity of a blunt Englishman, he conceded 
 points of ceremony, about which he himself was indifferent, merely 
 because he saw that his doing so gave pleasure to Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 Peveril of the Peak did justice to his neighbour's delicacy, in 
 
PEVERIL OF THK PEAK. 35 
 
 consideration of which he forgot many things. He forgot that 
 Major Bridgcnorlh was already in possession of a fair third of his 
 estate, and had various pecuniary claims affecting the remainder, 
 to the extent of one-third more. He endeavoured even to forget, 
 what was still more difficult not to remember, the altered situation 
 in which they and their mansions now stood to each other. 
 
 Before the Civil War, the superb battlements and turrets of Mar- 
 lindale Castle looked down on the red brick-built Hall, as it stole 
 out from the green plantations, just as an oak in Martindale Chase 
 would have looked beside one of the stunted and formal young 
 beech-trees with which Bridgenorth had graced his avenue ; but 
 after the siege which we have commemorated, {he enlarged and 
 augmented Hall was as much predominant in the landscape over the 
 shattered and blackened ruins of the Castle, of which only one 
 wing was left habitable, as the youthful beech, in all its vigour of 
 shoot and bud, would appear to the same aged oak stripped of ils 
 boughs, and rifted by lightning, one-half laid in shivers on the 
 ground, and the other remaining a blackened and ungraceful trunk, 
 rent and splintered, and without either life or leaves. Sir Geoffrey 
 could not but feel, that the situation and prospects of the two 
 neighbours were exchanged as disadvantageously for himself as the 
 appearance of their mansions ^ and that though the authority of the 
 man in office under the Parliament, the sequestrator, and the 
 committeeman, had been only exerted Ibr the proteclion of the 
 cavalier and the malignant, they would have been as effectual if 
 applied to procure his utter ruin j and that he was become a client, 
 while his neighbour was elevated into a patron. 
 
 There were two considerations, besides the necessity of the case 
 and the constant advice of his lady, which enabled Peveril of the 
 Peak to endure, with some patience, this state of degradation. 
 The first was, that the politics of Major Bridgenorth began, on 
 many points, to assimilate themselves to his own. As a Presby- 
 terian, he was not an utter enemy to monarchy, and had been con- 
 siderably shocked at the unexpected trial and execution of the King ; 
 as a civilian and a man of property, he feared the domination of 
 the mihtary •, and though he wished not to see Charles restored by 
 force of arms, yet he arrived at the conclusion, that to bring back 
 (he heir of the royal family on such terms of composition as might 
 ensure the protection of those popular immunities and privileges 
 for which the Long Parliament had at first contended, would be the 
 surest and most desirable termination to the mutations in state 
 affairs which had agitated Britain. Indeed, the Major's ideas on 
 this point approached so nearly those of his neighbour, that he had 
 wellnigh suffered Sir Geoffrey who had a finger in almost ail the 
 conspiracies of the Royalists, to involve him in the unfortunate 
 rising of Penruddock and Groves in the west, in which many of the 
 
36 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Presbyterian interest, as well as the Cavalier parly, were engaged. 
 And though his habitual prudence eventually kepi him out of this 
 and other dangers. Major Bridgenorlh was considered, during the 
 last years of CromweU's domination, and the interregnum which 
 succeeded, as a disaffected person to the Commonwealth, and a 
 favourer of Charles Stewart. 
 
 But besides this approximation to the same political opinions, 
 another bond of intimacy united the families of the Castle and the 
 Hall. Major Bridgenorlh, fortunate, and eminently so, in all his 
 worldly transactions, was visited by severe and reiterated misfortunes 
 in his family, and became, in this particular, an object of com- 
 passion to his poorer and more decayed neighbour. Betwixt the 
 breaking out of the Civil War and the Restoralion, he lost succes- 
 sively a family of no less than six children, apparently through a 
 delicacy of constitution, which cut off the little prattlers at the early 
 age when they most wind themselves around the heart of the parents. 
 In the beginning of the year 1658, Major Bridgenorlh was child • 
 less ; ere it ended, he had a daughter, indeed, but her birth was 
 purchased by the death of an affectionate wife, whose constitution 
 had been exhausted by maternal grief, and by the anxious and 
 harrowing reflection, that from her the children they had lost 
 derived that delicacy of health, which proved unable to undergo 
 Ihe tear and wear of existence. The same voice which told Bridge- 
 north that he was father of a living child (it was the friendly voice 
 of Lady Peveril), communicated to him the melancholy intelli- 
 gence that he was no longer a husband. The feelings of Major 
 Bridgenorlh were strong and deep, rather than hasty and vehe- 
 ment-, and his grief assumed the form of a sullen stupor, from 
 which neither the friendly remonstrances of Sir Geoffrey, who did 
 not fail to be with his neighbour at this distressing conjuncture, 
 even though he knew he must meet the Presbyterian paslor, nor 
 the ghoslly exhortations of this latter person, were able to rouse the 
 unfortunate widower. 
 
 At length Lady Peveril, with the ready invention of a female 
 sharpened by the sight of distress and the feelings of sympathy, 
 tried on Ihe sufferer one of those experiments by which grief is 
 often awakened from despondency into tears. She placed in Bridge- 
 north's arms the infant whose birth had cost him so dear, and con- 
 jured him to remember that his Alice was not yet dead, since she 
 survived in the helpless child she had left lo his paternal care. 
 
 '^ Take her away — take her away! " said the unhappy man, and 
 they were the first words he had spoken •, " let me not look on her 
 — it is but another blossom that has bloomed to fade, and the tree 
 that bore it will never flourish more ! " 
 
 He almost threw the child into Lady Peveril's arms, placed his 
 hands before his face, and wept aloud. Lady Peveril did not say. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 37 
 
 ''be comforted, " but she ventured to promise that the blossom 
 should ripen to fruit. 
 
 "Never, never!" said Bridgenorlh; " take the unhappy child 
 away, and let me only know when I shall wear black for her — 
 Wear black!" he exclaimed, interrupting himself, "what other 
 colour shall I wear during the remainder of my life?" 
 
 " I will take the child for a season," said Lady Pcveril, " since 
 the sight of her is so painful to you ^ and the little Alice shall share 
 the nursery of our Julian, until it shall be pleasure and not pain 
 for you to look on her." 
 
 " That hour will never come," said the unhappy father-, " her 
 doom is written — she will follow the rest — God's will be done. — 
 Lady, I thank you — I trust her to your care ^ and I thank God that 
 my eye shall not see her dying agonies." 
 
 Without detaining the reader's attention longer on this painful 
 theme, it is enough to say that the Lady Peveril did undertake the 
 duties of a mother to the little orphan ^ and perhaps it was owing, 
 in a great measure, to her judicious treatment of the infant that its 
 feeble hold of life was preserved, since the glimmering spark might 
 probably have been altogether smothered, had it, like the Major's 
 former children, undergone Ihe over-care and over-nursing of a 
 mother rendered nervously cautious and anxious by so many suc- 
 cessive losses. The lady was the more ready to undertake this 
 charge that she herself had lost two infant children ; and that she 
 attributed the preservation of the third, now a fine healthy child of 
 three years old, to Julian's being subjected to rather a different 
 course of diet and treatment than was then generally practised. She 
 resolved to follow the same regimen with the little orphan, which 
 she had observed in the case of her own boy; and it was equally 
 successful. By a more sparing use of medicine, by a firm, yet cau- 
 tious attention to encourage rather than to supersede the exertions 
 of nature, the puny infant, under the care of an excellent nurse, 
 gradually improved in strength and in liveliness. 
 
 Sir Geoffrey, like most men of his frank and good-natured dis- 
 position, was naturally fond of children, and so much compas- 
 sionated the sorrows of his neighbour, that he entirely forgot his 
 being a Presbyterian, until it became necessary that the infant 
 should be christened by a teacher of that persuasion. 
 
 This was a trying case — the father seemed incapable of giving 
 direction ,- and that the threshold of Martindale Castle should he vio- 
 lated by the heretical step of a dissenting clergyman, was matter of 
 horror to its orthodox owner. He had seen the famous Hugh Peters, 
 with a Bible in one hand and a pistol in the other, ride in triumph 
 through the court-door when Martindale was surrendered ; and the 
 bitterness of that hour had entered like iron into his soul. Yet such 
 was Lady Peveril's influence over the prejudices of her husband, 
 
38 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 that he was induced lo connive at (he ceremony taking place in a 
 remote garden-house, which was not properly within the precincts 
 of Ihe Castle-wall. The lady even dared to be present while the 
 ceremony was performed by the reverend Master Solsgrace, who 
 had once preached a sermon of three hours' length before the House 
 of Commons, upon a thanksgiving occasion after the relief of Exeter. 
 Sir Geoffrey Peveril took care to be absent the whole day from the 
 Castle, and it was only from the great interest which he took in the 
 washing, perfuming, and as it were purification of the summer- 
 house, that it could have been guessed he knew any thing of what 
 had taken place in it. 
 
 But, whatever prejudices the good Knight might entertain against 
 his neighbour's form of religion, they did not in any way influence 
 his feelings towards him as a sufferer under severe affliction. The 
 mode in which he showed his sympathy was rather singular, but 
 exactly suited the character of both, and the terms on which they 
 stood with each other. 
 
 Morning after morning the good Baronet made Moultrassie Hall 
 the termination of his walk or ride, and said a single word of kindness 
 as he passed. Sometimes he entered the old parlour where the pro- 
 prietor sat in solitary wretchedness and despondency; but more 
 frequently (for Sir Geoffrey did not pretend to great talents of con- 
 versation) he paused on the terrace, and stopping or halting his 
 horse by the latticed window^ said aloud to the melancholy inmate, 
 " How is it with you, Master Bridgenorth? (the Knight would never 
 acknowledge his neighbour's mihtary rank of Major) — "I just looked 
 in to bid you keep a good heart, man, and to tell you that Julian is 
 well, and little AUce is well, and all are well at Martindale Castle." 
 A deep sigh, sometimes coupled with " I thank you, Sir Geoffrey ; 
 my grateful duty waits on Lady Peveril," was generally Bridge- 
 north's only answer. But the news was received on the one part 
 with the kindness which was designed upon the other; it gradually 
 became less painful and more interesting ; the lattice window was 
 never closed, nor was the leathern easy-chair, which stood next to 
 it, ever empty, when the usual hour of the Baronet's momentary 
 visit approached. At length the expectation of that passing minute 
 became the pivot upon which the thoughts of poor Bridgenorth 
 turned during all the rest of the day. Most men have known the 
 influence of such brief but ruling moments at some period of their 
 lives. The moment when a lover passes the window of his mistress 
 — the moment when the epicure hears the dinnerbell, is that into 
 which is crowded the whole interest of the day — the hours which 
 precede it are spent in anticipation ; the hours which follow, in re- 
 flection on what has passed ; and fancy dwelling on each brief cir- 
 cumstance, gives to seconds the duration of minutes, lo minutes 
 that of hours. Thus seated in his lonely chair, Bridgenorth could 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 39 
 
 catch at a distance the stately step of Sir Geoffrey, or the heayy 
 tramp of his war-horse, Black Hastings^ which had borne him in 
 many an action j he could hear the hum of '' The King shall enjoy 
 his own again," or Ihe habitual whistle of '* Cuckolds and Round- 
 heads," die into reverential silence, as the Knight approached the 
 mansion of affliction •, and then came the strong hale voice of the 
 huntsman-soldier with its usual greeting. 
 
 By degrees the communication became something more pro- 
 tracted, as Major Bridgenorth's grief, like all human feelings, lost 
 its overwhelming violence, and permitted him to attend, in some 
 degree, to what passed around him, to discharge various duties which 
 pressed upon him, and to give a share of attention to the situation 
 of the country, distracted at it was by the contending factions, whose 
 strife only terminated in the Restoration. Still however, though 
 slowly recovering from the eftecls of the shock which he had sus- 
 tained. Major Bridgenorlh felt himself as yet unable to make up his 
 mind to the effort necessary to see his infant ^ and though separated 
 by so short a distance from the being in whose existence he was 
 more interested than in any thing the world aiTorded, he only made 
 himself acquainted with the windows of the apartment where little 
 Alice was lodged, and was often observed to watch them from the 
 terrace, as they brightened in the evening under the influence of 
 the setting sun. In truth, though a strong-minded man in most re- 
 spects, he was unable to lay aside the gloomy impression that this 
 remaining pledge of aflection was soon to be conveyed to that grave 
 which had already devoured all besides that was dear to him ; and 
 he awaited in miserable suspense the moment when he should hear 
 that symptoms of the fatal malady had begun to show themselves. 
 
 The voice of Peveril continued to be that of a comforler, until the 
 month of April, 1660, when it suddenly assumed a new and diffe- 
 rent tone. '■'• The King shall enjoy his own again," far from ceasing, 
 as the hasty tread of Black Hastings came up the avenue, bore burden 
 to the clatter of his hoofs on the paved court-yard, as Sir Geoffrey 
 sprang from his great war-saddle, now once more garnished with 
 pistols of two feel in length, and, armed with steel-cap, back and 
 breast, and a truncheon in his hand, he rushed into the apartment 
 of the astonished Major, with his eyes sparkling, and his cheek in- 
 flamed, while he called out, "Up! up, neighbour! No time now 
 to mope in the chimney-corner ! Where is your buffcoatand broad- 
 sword, man? Take the true side once in your life, and mend past 
 mistakes. The King is all lenity, man — all royal nature and mercy. 
 I will get your full pardon." 
 
 '*What means all Ihis?" said Bridgenorlh — "Is all well with 
 you— all well at Marlindale Castle, Sir Geoffrey?'' 
 
 " Weil as you could wish them, Alice and Julian and all. But I 
 have news worth twenly of that— Monk has declared at London 
 
40 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 against those slinking scoundrels the Rump. Fairfax is »p in York 
 shire— for the King— for the King, man! Church-men, Presbyte- 
 rians and all, are in buff and bandelier for King Charles. I have a 
 letter from Fairfax to secure Derby and Chesterfield, with all the 
 men I can make. D — n him, fine that I should take orders from 
 him! But never mind that — all are friends now, and you and I, 
 good neighbour, will charge abreast, as good neighbours should. 
 See there ! read — read — read — and then boot and saddle in an instant. 
 
 * Hey for cavaliers— ho for cavaliers, 
 Pray for cavaliers, 
 
 Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub. 
 
 Have at old Beelzebub, 
 Oliver shakes in his bier !' " 
 
 After thundering forlh this elegant effusion of loyal enthusiasm, 
 the sturdy Cavalier's heart became too full. He threw himself on a 
 seat, and exclaiming, " Did ever I think to live to see this happy 
 day ! " he wept^ to his own surprise, as much as to thatof Bridgenorth. 
 
 Upon considering the crisis in which the country was placed, it 
 appeared to Major Bridgenorth, as it had done to Fairfax, and other 
 leaders of the Presbyterian party, that their frank embracing of the 
 royal interest was the wisest and most patriotic measure which they 
 could adopt in the circumstances, when all ranks and classes of men 
 were seeking refuge from the uncertainty and varied oppression at- 
 tending the repeated contests between the factions of Westminster 
 Hall and of Wallingford House. Accordingly, he joined with Sir 
 Geoffrey, with less enthusiasm indeed, but with equal sincerity, 
 taking such measures as seemed proper to secure their part of the 
 country on the King's behalf, which was done as effectually and 
 peaceably as in other parts of England. The neighbours were both 
 at Chesterfield, when news arrived that the King had landed in Eng- 
 land ; and Sir Geoffrey instantly announced his purpose of wailing 
 upon his Majesty, even before his return to the Castle of Martindale. 
 
 " Who knows, neighbour," he said, " whether Sir Geoffrey Pe- 
 veril will ever return to Marlindale? Titles must be going amongst 
 them yonder, and I have deserved something among the rest. — 
 Lord Peveril would sound well — or slay. Earl of Marlindale — no, 
 not of Martindale— Earl of the Peak. — Meanwhile, trust your affairs 
 to me — 1 will see you secured — I would you had been no Presby- 
 terian, neighbour — a knighthood, — I mean a knight-bachelor, not 
 a knight-baronet,^ — would have served your turn well." 
 
 " I leave these things to my belters, Sir Geoffrey," said the Major, 
 *' and desire nothing so earnestly as to find all well at Marlindale 
 when I return." 
 
 "You will — you will find them all well," said the Baronet 5 '* Ju- 
 lian, AHce, Lady Peveril, and all of them — Bear my commendations 
 to them, and kiss them all, neighbour, Lady Peveril and all — you 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. €1 
 
 may kiss a Counless when I come back ; all will go well with you 
 
 now you are turned honest man." 
 ^' I always meant to be so, Sir Geoffrey," said Bridgenorlh calmly: 
 "Well, well, well— no offence meant," said the Knight, " all is 
 
 well now—so you to Moultrassie Hall, and I to Whitehall. Said I 
 
 well, aha! So ho, mine host, a stoup of Canary to the King's health 
 
 ere we get to horse — I forgot, neighbour — you drink no healths." 
 " I wish the King's health as sincerely as if I drank a gallon to 
 
 it," rephed the Major ; " and I wish you, Sir Geoffrey, all success 
 
 on your journey, and a safe return." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Why then, we will have bellowing of beeves, 
 Broaching of barrels, brandishing of spigots ; 
 Blood shall flow freely, but it shall be gore 
 Of herds and flocks, and venison and poultry, 
 Join'd to the brave heart's-blood of John-a-Barleycorn ! , 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 Whatever rewards Charles might have condescended to bestow 
 in acknowledgment of the sufferings and loyalty of Peveril of the 
 Peak, he had none in his disposal equal to the pleasure which Pro- 
 vidence had reserved for Bridgenorth on his return to Derbyshire. 
 The exertion to which he had been summoned, had had the usual 
 effect of restoring to a certain extent the activity and energy of his 
 character, and he felt it would be unbecoming to relapse into the 
 state of lethargic melancholy from which it had roused him. Time 
 also had its usual effect in mitigating the subjects of his regret ; and 
 when he had passed one day at the Hall, in regretting that he could 
 not expect the indirect news of his daughter's health, which Sir 
 Geoffrey used to communicate in his almost daily call, he reflected 
 that it would be in every respect becoming that he should pay a 
 personal visit at Martindale Castle, carry thither the remembrances 
 of the knight to his lady, assure her of his health, and satisfy himself 
 respecting that of his daughter. He armed himself for the worst — he 
 called to recollection the thin cheeks, faded eye, wasted hand, pallid 
 lip, which had marked the decaying health of all his former infants. 
 
 " I shall see," he said, '' these signs of mortality once more — I 
 shall once more see a beloved being to whom I have given birth, 
 gliding to the grave which ought to enclose me long before her. No 
 matter— it is unmanly so long to shrink from that which must be— 
 God's will be done!" 
 
 He went accordingly, on the subsequent morning, to Martindale 
 Castle, and gave the lady the welcome assurances of her husband's 
 safely, and of his hopes of preferment. 
 
4S PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " For Ihe first, may Almighty God be praised!" said the Lady 
 Peveril ; " and be the other as our gracious and restored sovereign 
 may will it. We are great enough for our means, and have means 
 sufficient for contentment, though not for splendour. And now I 
 see, good Master Bridgenorlh, the folly of putting faith in idle pre- 
 sentiments of evil. So often had Sir Geoffrey's repealed attempts in 
 favour of the Stewarts ledhim.inlo new misfortunes, that when, the 
 other morning, I saw him once more dressed in his fatal armour, 
 and heard the sound of his trumpet, which had been so long silent, 
 it seemed to me as if I saw his shroud, and heard his death-knell. 
 I say this to you, good neighbour, the rather because I fear your 
 own mind has been harassed with anticipations of impending cala- 
 mity, which it may please God to avert in your case as it has done 
 in mine ; and here conies a sight which bears good assurance of it." 
 The door of the apartment opened as she spoke, and two lovely 
 children entered. The eldest, Julian Peveril, a fine boy betwixt four 
 and five years old, led in his hand, with an air of dignified support 
 and attention, alil'.e girl of eighteen months, who rolled and tottered 
 along, keeping herself with difficulty upright by the assistance of 
 her elder, stronger, and masculine companion. 
 
 Bridgenorlh cast a hasty and fearful glance upon the countenance 
 of his daughter, and, even in that glimpse, perceived, with exqui- 
 site delight, that his fears were unfounded. He caught her in his 
 arms, pressed her to his heart, and the child, though at first alarmed 
 at the vehemence of his caresses, presently, as if prompted by Na- 
 ture, smiled in reply to them. Again he held her at some distance 
 from him, and examined her more attentively •, he satisfied himself 
 that the complexion of the young cherub he had in his arms was 
 not the hectic tinge of disease, but the clear hue of ruddy health ; 
 and that, though her little frame was slight, it was firm and springy. 
 "• 1 did not think that it could have been thus," he said, looking 
 to Lady Peveril, who had sat observing the scene with great pleasure ^ 
 ^' but praise be to God in the first instance, and next, thanks to you, 
 madam, who have been his instrument.'' 
 
 "Julian must lose his playfellow now I suppose?" said the lady ^ 
 '' but the Hall is not distant, and I will see my little charge often. 
 Dame Martha, the housekeeper at Moultrassie, has sense, and is 
 careful. I will tell her the rules I have observed with little Alice, 
 and"— 
 
 " God forbid my girl should ever come to Moultrassie," saidMajor 
 Bridgenorlh, hastily ; " it has been the grave of her race. The air of 
 the low grounds suited them not— or there is perhaps a fate connected 
 with the mansion. I will seek for her some other place of abode." 
 "That you shall not, under your favour be it spoken, Major 
 Bridgenorlh," answered the lady. "• If you do so, we; must suppose 
 that you are undervaluing my qualities as a nurse. If she goes not to 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 43 
 
 her father's house, she shall not quit mine. I will keep the little ladr 
 as a pledge of her safely and my own skill ; and since you are afraid 
 of the damp of the low grounds, I hope you will come here frequently 
 to visit her." 
 
 This was a proposal which went to the heart of Major Bridgenorth. 
 It was precisely the point which he would have given worlds to ar- 
 rive at, but which he saw no chance of attaining. 
 
 It is too well known, that those whose families are long pursued 
 by such a fatal disease as existed in his, become, it may be said, su- 
 perstitious respecting its fatal effects, and ascribe to place, circum- 
 stance, and individual care, much more perhaps than these can in 
 any case contribute to avert the fatality of constitutional distemper. 
 Lady Peveril was aware that this was peculiarly the impression of 
 her neighbour^ that the depression of his spirits, the excess of his 
 care, the feverishness of his apprehensions, the restraint and gloom 
 of the solitude in wtiich he dwelt, were really calculated to produce 
 the evil which most of all he dreaded. She pitied him, she fell for 
 him, she was grateful for former protection received at his hands 
 — she had become interested in the child itself. What female fails to 
 feel such interest in the helpless creature she has (ended? And to 
 sum the whole up, the dame had a share of human vanity ^ and being 
 a sort of Lady Bountiful in her way (for the character was not then 
 confined to the old andthefoolish),she was proud of the skillby which 
 she had averted the probable attacks of hereditary malady, so inve- 
 terate in the family of Bridgenorth. It needed not, perhaps, in other 
 cases, that so many reasons should be assigned for an act of neigh- 
 bourly humanity; but civil war had so lately torn the country 
 asunder, and broken all the usual ties of vicinage and good neigh- 
 bourhood, that it was unusual to see them preserved among persons 
 of different political opinions. 
 
 Major Bridgenorth himself felt this; and while the tear of joy in 
 his eye showed how gladly he would accept Lady Peveril's proposal, 
 he could not help stating the obvious inconveniences attendant upon 
 her scheme, though it was in the tone of one who would gladly hear 
 them overruled. '•' Madam," he said, " your kindness makes me 
 the happiest and most thankful of men ; but can it be consistent witli 
 your own convenience? Sir Geoffrey has his opinions on many 
 points, which have differed, and probably do still differ, from mine. 
 He is high-born, and T of middling parentage only. He uses the 
 Church Service, and I the Catechism of the Assembly of Divines at 
 Westminster" — 
 
 " I hope you will find prescribed in neither of them," said the 
 Lady Peveril, " that I may not be a mother to your motherless child. 
 I trust. Master Bridgenorth, the joyful Restoration of his Majesty, a 
 work wroughtby the direct hand of Providence, may be the means of 
 closing and healing all civil and religious dissensions among us, and 
 
44 PEVERIL OF THE PE.\K. 
 
 that, instead of showing the superior purity of our faith, by perse- 
 cuting those who think otherwise from ourselves on doctrinal points, 
 we shall endeavour to show ils real Christian tendency, by emulating 
 each other in actions of good-will towards man, as the best way of 
 showing our love to God." 
 
 " Your ladyship speaks what your own kind heart dictates," an- 
 swered Bridgenorth, who had his own share of the narrow-minded- 
 ness of the time 5 " and sure am I, that if all who call themselves 
 loyalists and cavaliers, thought like you — and like my friend Sir 
 Geoffrey"— (this he added after a moment's pause, being perhaps 
 rather complimentary than sincere) — " we, who thought it our duly 
 in time past to take arms for freedom of conscience, and against ar- 
 bitrary power, might now sit down in peace and contentment. But 
 I wot not how it may fall. You have sharp and hot spirits amongst 
 you-, I will not say our power was always moderately used, and re- 
 venge is sweet to the race of fallen Adam." 
 
 " Come, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, gaily 
 " these evil omenings do but point out conclusions, which, unless 
 Ihey were so anticipated, are most unlikely to come to pass. You 
 know what Shakspeare says : — 
 
 * To fly the boar before the boar pursues, 
 Were to incense the boar to follow us, 
 And make pursuit when he did mean no chase.' 
 
 But I crave your pardon— it is so long since we have met, that I 
 forgot you love no play-books." 
 
 " With reverence to your ladyship," said Bridgenorth, *' I were 
 much to blame did I need the idle words of a Warwickshire stroller, 
 to teach me my grateful duty to your ladyship on this occasion, 
 which appoints me to be directed by you in all things which my con- 
 science will permit." 
 
 " Since you allow me such influence, then," replied the Lady 
 Peveril, " I shall be moderate in exercising it , in order that I may, 
 in my domination at least, give you a favourable impression of the 
 new order of things. So, if you will be a subject of mine for one 
 day, neigh4)our, I am going, at my lord and husband's command, 
 to issue out my warrants to ihvite the whole neighbourhood to a 
 solemn feast at the Caslle, on Thursday next ; and I not only pray 
 you to be personally present yourself, but to prevail on your worthy 
 pastor and such neighbours and friends, high and low, as may think 
 in your own way, to meet with the rest of the neighbourhood, to 
 rejoice on this joyful occasion of the Ring's Restoration, and thereby 
 to show that wc are to be henceforward a united people." 
 
 The parliamentarian Major was considerably embarrassed by this 
 proposal. He looked upwards and downwards and around, cast his 
 eye first to the oak-carved ceiling, and anon fixed it upon the floor •, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 45 
 
 then threw it around the room till it lighted on liis child, the sight 
 of whom suggested another and a better train of reflections than 
 ceiling and floor had been able to supply. 
 
 " Madam," he said, '' I have long been a stranger to festivity, 
 perhaps from constitutional melancholy, perhaps from the depres- 
 sion which is natural to a desolate and deprived man, in whose ear 
 mirth is marred, like a pleasant air when performed on a mistuned 
 instrument. But though neither my thoughts nor temperament are 
 Jovial or Mercurial, it becomes me to be grateful to Heaven for the 
 good he has sent me by the means of your ladyship. David, the 
 man after God's own heart, did wash and eat bread when his beloved 
 child was removed — mine is restored to me, and shall I not show 
 gratitude under a blessing, when he showed resignation under an 
 affliction I Madam, I will wait on your gracious invitation with 
 acceptance; and such of my friends with whom I may possess in- 
 fluence, and whose presence your ladyship may desire, shall accom- 
 pany me to the festivity, that our Israel may be as one people." 
 
 Having spoken these words with an aspect which belonged more 
 to a martyr than to a guest bidden to a festival, and having kissed, 
 and solemnly blessed his little girl, Major Bridgenorlh took his de- 
 parture for Moultrassie Hall. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Here's neither want of appetite nor mouths ; 
 Pray Heaven we be not scant of meat or mirlb I 
 Old Play. 
 
 Even upon ordinary occasions, and where means were ample, 
 a great entertainment in those days was not such a sinecure as in 
 modern times, when the lady who presides has but to intimate to 
 her menials the day and hour when she wills it to lake place. At 
 that simple period, the lady was expected to enter deeply into the 
 arrangement and provision of the whole affair; and from a little gal- 
 lery, which communicated with her own private apartment, and 
 looked down upon the kitchen, her shrill voice was to be heard, 
 from lime to time, like that of the warning spirit in a tempest, rising 
 above the clash of pots and stewpans — the creaking of spits — the 
 clattering of marrow-bones and cleavers — the scolding of cooks — 
 and all the other various kinds of din which form an accompani- 
 ment to dressing a large dinner. 
 
 But all this toil and anxiety was more than doubled in the case of 
 the approaching feast at Martindale Castle, where the presiding 
 Genius of the festivity was scarce provided with adequate means to 
 carry her hospitable purpose into effect. The tyr^^miical conduct of 
 
46 PEVKRIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 husbands, in such cases, is universal 5 and I scarce know one house- 
 holder of my acquaintance who has not, on some ill-omened and 
 most inconvenient season, announced suddenly to his innocent help- 
 mate, that he had invited 
 
 " Some odious Major Rock, , 
 
 To drop in at six o'clock," 
 
 to the great discomposure of the lady, and the discredit, perhaps, of 
 her domestic arrangements. 
 
 Peveril of the Peak was still more thoughtless ^ for he had di- 
 rected his lady to invite the whole honest men of the neighbourhood 
 to make good cheer at Martindale Castle, in honour of the blessed 
 Restoration of his most sacred Majesty, without precisely explain- 
 ing where the provisions were lo come from. The deer-park had 
 lain waste ever since the siege ; the dove-cot could do little to fur- 
 nish forth such an entertainment; the fish-ponds, it is true, were 
 well provided (which the neighbouring Presbyterians noted as a 
 suspicious circumstance), and game was to be had for the shooting, 
 upon the extensive heaths and hills of Derbyshire. But these were 
 only the secondary parts of a banquet •, and the house-steward and 
 bailiff. Lady Peveril's only coadjutors and counsellors, could not 
 agree how the butcher-meat — !he most substantial part, or, as it 
 were, the main body of the entertainment — was to be supplied. 
 The house-steward threatened the sacrifice of a fine yoke of young 
 bullocks, which the bailiff, who pleaded the necessity of their agri- 
 cultural services, tenaciously resisted ^ and Lady Peveril's good and 
 dutiful nature did not prevent her from making some impatient 
 reflections on the want of consideration of her absent Knight, who 
 had thus thoughtlessly placed her in so embarrassing a situation. 
 
 These reflections were scarcely jusl, if a man is only responsible 
 for such resolutions as he adopts when he is fully master of himself. 
 Sir Geoffrey's loyalty, like that of many persons in his situation, 
 had by dint of hopes and fears, victories and defeats, struggles and 
 sufferings, all rising out of the same moving cause, and turning, as 
 it were, on the same pivot, acquired the character of an intense 
 and enthusiastic passion ; and the singular and surprising change of 
 fortune, by which his highest wishes were not only gratified, but 
 far exceeded, occasioned for some time a kind of intoxication of 
 loyal rapture which seemed to pervade the whole kingdom. Sir 
 Geoffrey had seen Charles and his brothers, and had been received 
 by the merry monarch with that graceful, and at the same time 
 frank urbanity, by which he conciliated all who approached him; 
 the Knight's services and merits had been fully acknowledged, and 
 recompense had been hinted at, if not expressly promised. Was it 
 for Peveril of the Peak, in the jubilee of his spirits, to consider how 
 his wife was lo find beef and mutton to feast his neighbours? 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 47 
 
 Luckily, however, for the embarassed lady, there existed some 
 one who had composure of mind sufficient to foresee this difficulty. 
 Just as she had made up her mind, very reluctantly, to become 
 debtor to Major Bridgenorlh for the sum necessary to carry her 
 husband's commands into effect, and whilst she was bitterly regret- 
 ting this departure from the strictness of her usual economy, the 
 steward, who, by the by, had not been absolutely sober since the 
 news of the King's landing at Dover, burst into the apartment, 
 snapping his fingers, and showing more marks of delight than was 
 quite consistent with the dignity of my lady's large parlour. 
 
 " What means this, Whitaker?" said the lady, somewhat pee- 
 vishly ; for she was interrupted in the commencement of a letter to 
 her neighbour on the unpleasant business of the proposed loan, — 
 *' Is it to be always thus with you? — Are you dreaming?" 
 
 " A vision of good omen, I trust," said the steward, with a 
 triumphant flourish of the hand-, ''far belter than Pharaoh's, 
 though, like his, it be of fat kine." 
 
 " I prithee be plain, man," said the lady, " or fetch some one 
 who can speak to purpose." 
 
 " Why, odds-my-life, madam," said the steward, " mine errand 
 can speak for itself. Do you not hear them low ? Do you not hear 
 them bleat? A yoke of fat oxen, and half a score prime wethers. 
 The castle is victualled for this bout, let them storm when they will 5 
 and Gatherill may have his d — d Mains ploughed to the boot." 
 
 The lady, without farther questioning her elated domestic, rose 
 and went to the window, where she certainly beheld the oxen and 
 sheep which had given rise to Whitaker's exultation. "Whence 
 come they?" said she, in some surprise. 
 
 "- Let them construe that who can," answered Whitaker; " the 
 fellow who drove them was a west-countryman, and only said they 
 came from a friend to help to furnish out your ladyship's entertain- 
 ment ; the man would not stay to drink — I am sorry he would not 
 stay to drink — I crave your ladyship's pardon for not keeping him 
 by the ears to drink — it was not my fault." 
 
 " That I'll be sworn it was not," said the lady. 
 
 " Nay, madam, by G — , I assure you it was not," said the zealous 
 steward ; " for, rather than the Castle should lose credit, I drank his 
 health myself in double ale, though I had had my morning draught 
 already. I tell you the naked truth, my lady, by G — I" 
 
 " It was no great compulsion, I suppose," said the lady 5 "but, 
 Whitaker, suppose you should show your joy on such occasions, 
 by drinking and swearing a little less, rather than a little more, 
 would it not be as well, think you?" 
 
 "I crave your ladyship's pardon," said Whitaker, with much 
 reverence; " I hope I know my place. I am your ladyship's poor 
 s«:'rvant ; and I know it does not become mc to drink and swear like 
 
48 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 your ladyship—lhat is, like his honour, Sir Geoffrey, I would say. 
 But I pray you, if I am not to drink and swear after my degree, 
 how are men to know Peveril of the Peak's steward, — and I may 
 say butler too, since I have had the keys of the cellar ever since old 
 Spigots was shot dead on the north-west turret, with a black jack 
 in his hand,— I say, how is an old Cavalier like me to be known 
 from those cuckoldy Roundheads that do nothing but fast and pray, 
 if we are not to drink and swear according to our degree?" 
 
 The lady was silent, for she well knew speech availed nothing ; 
 and, after a moment's pause, proceeded to intimate to the steward 
 that she would have the persons, whose names were marked in a 
 written paper, which she delivered to him, invited to the approach- 
 ing banquet. 
 
 Whilaker, instead of receiving the list with the mute acquiescence 
 of a modern Major Domo, carried it into the recess of the windows, 
 and, adjusting his spectacles, began to read it to himself. The first 
 names being those of distinguished Cavalier families in the neigh- 
 bourhood, he muttered over in a tone of approbation — paused and 
 pshawed at that of Bridgenorth — yet acquiesced, with the observa- 
 tion, *' But he is a good neighbour, so it may pass for once." But 
 when he read the name and surname of Nehemiah Solsgrace, the 
 Presbyterian parson, Whilaker's patience altogether forsook him ; 
 and he declared he would as soon thrown himself into Eldon-hole % 
 as consent that the intrusive old puritan howlet, who had usurped 
 the pulpit of a sound orthodox divine, should ever darken the gates 
 of Martindale Castle by any message or mediation of his. "The 
 false crop-eared hypocrites," cried he, with a hearty oath, " have 
 had their turn of the good weather. The sun is on our side of the 
 hedge now, and we will pay off old scores, as sure as my name is 
 Richard Whitaker I" 
 
 "You presume on your long services, Whitaker, and on your 
 master's absence, or you had not dared to use me thus," said 
 the lady. 
 
 The unwonted agitation of her voice attracted the attention of 
 the refractory steward, notwithstanding his present state of eleva- 
 tion *, but he no sooner saw that her eye glistened, and her cheek 
 reddened, than his obstinacy was at once subdued. 
 
 " A murrain on me," he said, " but I have made my lady angry 
 in good earnest! and that is an unwonted sight for to see. — I crave 
 your pardon, my lady ! It was not poor Dick Whilaker disputed 
 your honourable commands, but only that second draught of double 
 ale. We have put a double stroke of malt to it, as your ladyship 
 well knows, ever since the happy Restoration. To be sure I hate 
 a fanatic as I do the cloven fool of Satan ; but then your honourable 
 
 ' A chasm in the earth supposed to be unfathomable, one of the wonders of the Peak. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 49 
 
 ladyship liath a right to invite Satan himself, cloven foot and all, 
 to Marlindale Caslle, and to send me to hell's-gate with a billet of 
 invitation — and so your will shall be done." 
 
 The invitations were sent round accordingly, in all due form ; 
 and one of the bullocks was sent down to be roasted whole at the 
 market place of a little village called Martindale-Moultrassie, which 
 stood considerably to the eastward both of the Castle and Hall, from 
 which it took its double name, at about an equal distance from 
 both ; so that, suppose a line, drawn from the one manor-house to 
 the other, to be the base of a triangle, the village would have oc- 
 cupied the salient angle. As the said village, since the late trans- 
 ference of a part of PeveriFs properly, belonged to Sir Geoffrey 
 and toBridgenorth,in nearly equal portions, the lady judged it not 
 proper to dispute the right of the latter, to add some hogsheads of 
 beer to the popular festivity. 
 
 In the meanwhile, she could not but suspect the Major of being 
 the unknown friend who had relieved her from the dilemma aris- 
 ing from the want of provisions ; and she esteemed herself happy 
 when a visit from him, on the day preceding the proposed enter- 
 tainment, gave her, as she thought, an opportunity of expressing 
 her gratitude. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 No, sir— I will not pledge— I'm one of those 
 Who think good wine needs neither bush nor preface 
 To make it welcome. If you doubt my word, 
 Fill the quart-cup, and see if I will choke on't. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 There was a serious gravity of expression in the disclamation 
 with which Major Bridgenorth replied to the thanks tendered to 
 him by Lady Pcverii, for the supply of provisions which reached 
 her Castle so opportunely. He seemed first not to be aware what 
 she alluded to^ and, when she explained the circumstance, he pro- 
 tested so seriously that he had no share in the benefit conferred, 
 that Lady Peveril was compelled to believe him 5 the rather that, 
 being a man of a plain downright character, affecting no refined 
 delicacy of sentiment, and praclising almost a quaker-like sincerity 
 of expression, it would have been much contrary to his general 
 character to have made such a disavowal, unless it were founded 
 in truth. 
 
 "My present visit to you, madam," said he, " had indeed some 
 reference to the festivity of to-morrow." Lady Peveril listened, 
 but as her visitor seemed to find some difficulty in expressing him- 
 self, she was compelled to ask an explanation. " Madam," said the 
 
50 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Major, ^'you are not perhaps entirely ignorant that the more 
 lender-conscienced among us have scruples at certain practices, so 
 general amongst your people at times of rejoicing, that you may 
 be said to insist upon them as articles of faith, or at least greatly 
 lo resent their omission." 
 
 " I trust, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, not fully 
 comprehending the drift of his discourse, " that we shall, as your 
 entertainers, carefully avoid all allusions or reproaches founded on 
 past misunderstanding." 
 
 "We would expect no less, madam, from your candour and 
 courtesy," said Bridgenorth; " but I perceive you do not fully un- 
 derstand me. To be plain, then, I allude to the fashion of drinking 
 healths, and pledging each other in draughts of strong liquor, 
 which most among us consider as a superfluous and sinful provok- 
 ing of each other to debauchery, and the excessive use of strong 
 drink \ and which, besides, if derived, as learned divines have sup- 
 posed, from the custom of the bUnded Pagans, who made libations 
 and invoked idols when they drank, may be justly said to have 
 something in it heathenish, and allied to demon-worship." 
 
 The lady had already hastily considered all the topics which 
 were likely to introduce discord into the proposed festivity; but 
 this very ridiculous, yet fatal discrepancy, betwixt the manners of 
 the parties on convivial occasions, had entirely escaped her. She 
 endeavoured to soothe the objecting party, whose brows were knit 
 like one who had fixed an opinion by which he was determined to 
 . abide. 
 
 " I grant," she said, '' my good neighbour, that this custom is 
 at least idle, and may be prejudicial if it leads to excess in the use 
 of liquor, which is apt enough to take place without such conversa- 
 tion. But I think, when it hath not this consequence, it is a thing 
 indifferent, affords a unanimous mode of expressing our good 
 wishes to our friends, and our loyal duty to our sovereign ; and 
 without meaning to put any force upon the inclination of those 
 who believe otherwise, I cannot see how I can deny my guests and 
 friends the privilege of drinking a health to the Ring, or to my 
 husband, after the old English fashion." 
 
 '* My lady," said the Major, " if the age of fashion were to com- 
 mand it. Popery is one of the oldest English fashions that I have 
 heard of; but it is our happiness that we are not benighted like 
 our fathers, and therefore we must act according to the Hght that 
 is in us, and not after their darkness. I had myself the honour to 
 attend the Lord-Keeper Whitelocke, when, at the table of the 
 Chamberlain of the kingdom of Sweden, he did positively refuse 
 to pledge the health of his Queen, Christina, thereby giving great 
 offence, and putting in peril the whole purpose of that voyage, 
 which it is not lo be thought so wise a man would have done, but 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 51 
 
 ihal he held such compliance a thing not merely indifferent, but 
 rather sinful and damnable." 
 
 "With all respect to Whitelocke," said the Lady Peveril, "I 
 continue of my own opinion, though, Heaven knows, I am no 
 friend to riot or wassail. I would fain accommodate myself to your 
 scruples, and will discourage all other pledges; but surely those of 
 the King and of Peveril of the Peak may be permitted?" 
 
 ''I dare not," answered Bridgenorth, "lay even the ninety-ninth 
 part of a grain of incense upon an altar erected lo Satan." 
 
 " How, sir !" said the lady ; " do you bring Satan into compari- 
 son with our master King Charles, and with my noble lord and 
 husband?" 
 
 " Pardon me, madam," answered Bridgenorth, "I have no such 
 thoughts— indeed they would ill become me. I do wish the King's 
 health and Sir Geoffrey's devoutly, and I will pray for both. But I 
 see not what good it should do their health if I should prejudice my 
 own by qualfmg pledges out of quart flagons." 
 
 "Since we cannot agree upon this matter," said Lady Peveril, 
 "we must find some resource by which to offend those of neither 
 party. Suppose you winked at our friends drinking these pledges, 
 and we should connive at your silling still?" 
 
 But neither would this composition satisfy Bridgenorth, who was 
 of opinion, as he expressed himself, that it would be holding a 
 candle to Beelzebub. In fact, his temper, naturally stubborn, was at 
 present rendered much more so by a previous conference with his 
 preacher, who, though a very good man in the main, was parti- 
 cularly and illiberally tenacious of the petty distinctions which his 
 sect adopted \ and, while he thought with considerable apprehen- 
 sion on the accession of power which Popery, Prelacy, and Peveril 
 of the Peak, were like to acquire by the late Revolution, became 
 naturally anxious to put his flock on their guard, and prevent their 
 being kidnapped by the wolf. He disliked extremely that Major 
 llridgenorlh, indisputably the head of the Presbyterian interest in 
 that neighbourhood, should have given his only daughter to be, as 
 he termed it, nursed by a Canaanilish woman 5 and he told him 
 plainly, that he liked not this going to feast in the high places with 
 the uncircumcised in heart, and looked on the whole conviviality 
 only as a making merry in the house of Tirzah. 
 
 Upon receiving this rebuke from his pastor, Bridgenorth began 
 to suspect he might have been partly wrong in the readiness which, 
 in his first ardour of gratitude, he had shown to enter into intimate 
 intercourse with the Castle of Martindale; but he was too proud to 
 avow this to the preacher, and it was not till after a considerable 
 debate betwixt them, that it was mutually agreed their presence at 
 the entertainment should depend upon the condition, that no healths 
 or pledges should be given in their presence. 
 
r52 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Bridgenorlh, therefore, as the delegate and representative of his 
 parly, was bound to stand firm against all entreaty, and the lady 
 iecame greatly embarrassed. She now regretted sincerely that her 
 well-intended invitation had ever been given, for she foresaw that 
 its rejection was to awaken all former subjects of quarrel, and per- 
 haps to lead to new violences amongst people who had not many 
 years since been engaged in civil war. To yield up the disputed 
 point to the Presbyterians, would have been to oiTend the Cavalier 
 party, and Sir Geoffrey in particular, in the most mortal degree; 
 for they made it as firm a point of honour to give healths, and 
 compel others to pledge them, as the Puritans made it a deep arlicle 
 of religion to refuse both. At length the lady changed the discourse, 
 introduced that of Major Bridgenorth's child, caused it to be sent 
 for, and put into his arms. The mother's stratagem look effect ; for, 
 though the parliamentary major stood firm, the father, as in the 
 ^ase of the Governor of Tilbury, was softened, and he agreed that 
 his friends should accept a compromise. This was, that the Major 
 himself, the reverend divine, and such of their friends as held strict 
 Puritan tenets, should form a separate party in the Large Parlour, 
 while the Hall should be occupied by the jovial Cavaliers ; and that 
 each party should regulate their potalions after their own con- 
 science, or after their own fashion. 
 
 Major Bridgenorth himself seemed greatly relieved after ihis im- 
 portant matter had been settled. He had held it matter of conscience 
 to be stubborn in maintaining his own opinion, but was heartily 
 glad when he escaped from the apparently inevitable necessity of 
 affronting Lady Peveril, by the refusal of her invitation. Pie re- 
 mained longer than usual", and spoke and smiled more than was 
 his custom. His first care on his return, was to announce to the 
 clergyman and his congregation the compromise which he had 
 made, and this not as a matter for deliberation, but one upon which 
 he had already resolved; and such was his authority among them, 
 that though the preacher longed to pronounce a separation of the 
 parties, and to exclaim — " To your tents, O Israel !" he did not see 
 the chance of being seconded by so many, as would make it worth 
 while to disturb the unanimous acquiescence in their delegate's 
 proposal. 
 
 Nevertheless, each parly being put upon the alert by the conse- 
 quences of Major Bridgenorth's embassy, so many points of doubt 
 and delicate discussion were started in succession, that the Lady 
 Peveril, the only person, perhaps, who was desirous of achieving 
 an effectual reconciliation between them, incurred, in reward for 
 her good intentions, the censure of both factions, and had much 
 reason to regret her well-meant project of bringing the Capulels 
 and Montagues of Derbyshire together on the same occasion of pub- 
 lic festivity. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 5,? 
 
 As il was no^ sellled thai Ihe guests were to form two different 
 parties, il became not only a subject of dispute betwixt tliemselves, 
 which should be first admitted within the Castle of Marlindale, but 
 mailer of serious apprehension to Lady Peveril and Major Bridge- 
 north, lest, if they were to approach by the same avenue and en- 
 trance, a quarrel might take place betwixt them, and proceed to 
 extremities, even before they reached the place of entertainment. 
 The lady believed she had discovered an admirable expedient for 
 preventing the possibility of such interference, by directing that 
 the Cavaliers should be admitted by the principal entrance, while 
 the Roundheads should enter the Castle through a great breach 
 which had been made in the course of the siege, and across which 
 there had been since made a sort of by-path, to drive the cattle 
 down to Iheir pasture in the wood. By this contrivance the Lady 
 Peveril imagined she had altogether avoided Ihe various risks 
 which might occur from two such parties encountering each other, 
 and disputing for precedence. Several other circumstances of less 
 importance were adjusted at the same time, and apparently sa 
 much to the satisfaction of Ihe Presbyterian teacher, that, in a long 
 lecture on the subject of the Marriage Garment, he was at the pains 
 to explain to his hearers, that outward apparel was not alone meant 
 by that scriptural expression, but also a suitable frame of mind for 
 enjoyment of peaceful festivity ; and therefore he exhorled the 
 brethren, that whatever might be the errors of the poor blinded 
 malignants, with whom they were in some sort to eat and drink 
 upon the morrow, they ought not on this occasion to show any evil 
 will against them, lest they should therein become troublers of the 
 peace of Israel. 
 
 Honest Doctor Dummerar, the ejected episcopal Vicar of Mar- 
 tindale cum Moultrassie, preached to the Cavaliers on the same 
 subject. He had served the cure before the breaking out of the 
 Rebellion, and was in high favour with Sir Geoffrey, not merely on 
 account of his sound orthodoxy and deep learning, but his exquisite 
 skill in playing at bowls, and his facetious conversation over a pipe 
 and tankard of October. For these latter accomplishments, the 
 Doctor had the honour to be recorded by old Cenlury White 
 amongst the roll of lewd, incompetent, profligate clergymen of the 
 Church of England, whom he denounced to God and man, on ac- 
 count chiefly of the heinous sin of playing at games of skill and 
 chance, and of occasionally joining in the social meetings of their 
 parishil)ners. When the King's party began to lose ground. Doctor 
 Dummerar left his vicarage, and, betaking himself to the camp, 
 showed upon several occasions, when acting as chaplain to Sir 
 Geoffrey Peveril's regiment, that his portly bodily presence in- 
 cluded a stout and masculine heart. When all was lost, and he him- 
 self, with most other loyal divines, was deprived of his living, he 
 
54 PEVEUIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 made such shift as he coUld 5 now lurking in th"e garrels of old 
 friends in the University, who shared with him, and such as him, 
 the slender means of livelihood which the evil limes had left them 5 
 and now lying hid in the houses of the oppressed and sequestrated 
 gentry, who respected at once his character and sufferings. When 
 the Restoration took place. Doctor Dumnierar emerged from some 
 one of his hiding-places, and hied him to Marlindale Castle, to 
 enjoy the triumph inseparable from this happy change. 
 
 His appearance at the Castle in his full clerical dress, and the 
 warm reception which he received from the neighbouring gentry, 
 added not a Utile to the alarm which was gradually extending itself 
 through the parly which were so lately the uppermost. It is true 
 Doctor Dummerar framed (honest, worthy man) no extravagant 
 views of elevation or preferment; but the probability of his being 
 replaced in the living, from which he had been expelled under very 
 flimsy pretences, inferred a severe blow to the Presbyterian divine, 
 who could not be considered otherwise than as an intruder. The 
 interest of the two preachers, therefore, as well as the sentiments 
 of their flocks, were at direct variance •, and here was another fatal 
 objection in the way of Lady Peveril's scheme of a general and 
 comprehensive healing ordinance. 
 
 Nevertheless, as we have already hinted. Doctor Dummerar be- 
 haved as handsomely upon the occasion as the Presbyterian in- 
 cumbent had done. It is true, that in a sermon which he preached 
 in the Castle hall to several of the most distinguished Cavalier 
 famines, besides a world of boys from the village, who went to see 
 the novel circumstance of a parson in a cassock and surplice, he 
 went at great length into the foulness of the various crimes com- 
 mitted by the rebellious party during the lale evil times, and greatly 
 magnified the merciful and peaceful nature of the honourable Lady 
 of the Manor, who condescended to look upon, or receive inlo her 
 house in the way of friendship and hospitality, men holding the 
 principles which had led to the murder of the Ring — the slaying 
 and despoiling his loyal subjects — and the plundering and break- 
 ing down of the Church of God. But then he wiped all this hand- 
 somely up again, with the observation, that since it was the will of 
 their gracious and newly restored Sovereign, and the pleasure of 
 the worshipful Lady Peverll, that this contumacious and rebellious 
 race should be, for a time, forborne by their faithful subjects, it 
 would be highly proper that all the loyal liegemen should, for the 
 present, eschew subjects of dissension or quarrel with the^e sons 
 of Shimei •, which lesson of patience he enforced by the comfortable 
 assurance, that they could not long abstain from their old rebellious 
 practices; in which case, the royalists would stand exculpated be- 
 fore God and man, in extirpating them from the face of the earth. 
 
 The close observers of the remarkable passages of Ihe limes from 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 55 
 
 which we draw the events of our history, have left it upon record, 
 that these two several sermons, much contrary, doubtless, to the 
 intention of the worthy divines by whom they were delivered, had 
 a greater effect in exasperating, than in composing, the disputes 
 betwixt the two factions. Under such evil auspices, and with cor- 
 responding forebodings on the mind of Lady Peveril, the day of 
 festivity at length arrived. 
 
 By different routes, and forming each a sort of procession, as if 
 the adherents of each party were desirous of exhibiting its strength 
 and numbers, the two several factions approached Marlindale 
 Castle 5 and so distinct did they appear in dress, aspect, and man- 
 ners, that it seemed as if the revellers of a bridal parly, and the sad 
 attendants upon a funeral solemnity, were moving towards the same 
 point from different quarters. 
 
 The puritanical party was by far the fewer in numbers, for 
 which two excellent reasons might be given. In the first place, 
 they had enjoyed power for several years, and, of course, became 
 unpopular among the common people, never at any time attached 
 to those, who, being in the immediate possession of authority, are 
 often obliged to employ it in controlling their humours. Besides, 
 the country people of England had, and still have, an animated 
 attachment to field sports, and a natural unrestrained jovially of 
 disposition, which rendered them impatient under the severe dis- 
 cipline of the fanatical preachers \ while they were not less naturally 
 discontented with the mihtary despotism of Cromwell's Major- 
 Generals. Secondly, the people were fickle as usual, and the return 
 of the King had novelty in it, and was therefore popular. The side 
 of the Puritans was also deserted at this period by a numerous 
 class of more thinking and prudential persons, who never forsook 
 them till they became unfortunate. These sagacious personages 
 were called in that age the Waiters upon Providence, and deemed 
 it a high delinquency towards Heaven if they afforded countenance 
 to any cause longer than it was favoured by fortune. 
 
 But, though thus forsaken by the fickle and the selfish, a solemn 
 enthusiasm, a stern and determined depth of principle, a confidence 
 in the sincerity of their own motives, and the manly English pride 
 which incUned them to cling to their former opinions, like the 
 traveller in the fable to his cloak, the more strongly that the tempest 
 blew around them, detained in the ranks of the Puritans many, 
 who, if no longer formidable from numbers, were still so from their 
 character. They consisted chiefly of the middling gentry, with 
 others whom industry or successful speculations in commerce or in 
 mining had raised into eminence — the persons who feel most um- 
 brage from the overshadowing aristocracy, and are usually the most 
 vehement in defence of what they hold to be their rights. Their 
 dress was in general studiously simple and unostentatious, or only 
 
56 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 remarkable by Ihe contradictory aftectalion of extreme simplicity 
 or carelessness. The dark colour of their cloaks, \arying from 
 absolute black to what was called sad-coloured, — their steeple- 
 crowned hats, with their broad shadowy brims, — their long swords, 
 suspended by a simple strap around the loins, without shoulder- 
 belt, sword-knot, plate, buckles, or any of the other decorations 
 with which the Cavaliers loved to adorn their trusty rapiers,- — the 
 shortness of their hair, which made their ears appear of dispro- 
 portioned size, — above all, the stern and gloomy gravity of their 
 looks, announced their belonging to that class of enthusiasts, who, 
 resolute and undismayed, had cast down the former fabric of govern- 
 ment, and who now regarded with somewhat more than suspicion, 
 that which had been so unexpectedly substituted in its stead. There 
 was gloom in their countenances ; but it was not that of dejection, 
 far less of despair. They looked like veterans after a defeat, which 
 may have checked their career and wounded their pride, but has 
 left their courage undiminished. 
 
 The melancholy, now become Habitual, which overcast Major 
 Bridgenorth's countenance, well qualified him to act as the chief 
 of the group who now advanced from the village. When they 
 reached the point by which they were first to turn aside into the 
 wood which surrounded the Castle, they felt a momentary impres- 
 sion of degradation, as if they were yielding the high-road to their 
 old and oft-defeated enemies the Cavaliers. When they began to 
 ascend the winding path, which had been the daily passage of the 
 cattle, the opening of the wooded glade gave them a view of the 
 castle-ditch, half choked with the rubbish of the breach, and of 
 the breach itself, which was made at the angle of a large square 
 flanking-lower, one-half of which had been battered into ruins, 
 while the other fragment remained in a state strangely shattered 
 and precarious, and seemed to be tottering above the huge aperture 
 in the wall. A stern still smile was exchanged among the Puritans, 
 as the sight reminded them of the victories of former days. Hold- 
 fast Clegg, a millwright of Derby, who had been himself active at 
 the siege, pointed to the breach, and said, with a grim smile to 
 Mr. Solsgrace, " I little thought, that when my own hand helped 
 to level the cannon which Oliver pohited against yon tower, we 
 should have been obliged to climb like foxes up the very walls 
 which we won by our bow and by our spear. Methought these 
 malignants had then enough of shutting their gates and making 
 high their horn against us." 
 
 " Be patient, my brother," said Solsgrace; " be patient, and let 
 not thy soul be disquieted. We enter not this high place dishonour- 
 ably, seeing we ascend by the gate which the Lord opened to the 
 godly." 
 
 The words of the pastor were like a spark to gunpowder. The 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 57 
 
 countenances of the mournful relinue suddenly expanded, and, 
 accepting what had fallen from him as an omen and a light from 
 heaven how they were to interpret their present situation, they up- 
 lifted, with one consent, one of the triumphant songs in which the 
 Israeliles celebrated the victories which had been vouchsafed to them 
 over the heathen inhabitants of the Promised Land : 
 
 *' Let God arise, and tjien his foes 
 
 Shall turn themselves to flight, 
 His enemies for fear shall run, 
 
 And scatter out of sight ; 
 
 ** And as wax melts before the fire, 
 
 And wind blows smoke away. 
 So in the presence of the Lord, 
 
 The wicked shall decay. 
 
 •* God's army twenty thousand is, 
 
 Of angels bright and strong. 
 The Lord also in Sinai 
 
 Is present them among. 
 
 " Thou didst, O Lord, ascend on high, 
 
 And captive led'st them all, 
 Who, in times past, thy chosen flock 
 
 In bondage did enthral." 
 
 These sounds of devotional triumph reached the joyous band of 
 the Cavaliers, who, decked in whatever pomp their repealed mis- 
 Ibrlunes and impoverishment had left them, were moving towards 
 the same point, though by a different road, and were filling the 
 principal avenue to the Castle, with tiptoe mirth and revelry. The 
 two parlies were strongly contrasted : for, during that period of 
 civil dissension, the manners of the different factions distinguished 
 them as completely as separate uniforms might have done. If the 
 Puritan was affectedly plain in his dress, and ridiculously precise 
 in his manners, the Cavalier often carried his love of ornament into 
 tawdry finery, and his contempt of hypocrisy into licentious pro- 
 fligacy. Gay gallant fellows, young and old, thronged together 
 towards the ancient Castle, with general and joyous manifestation 
 of those spirits, which, as they had been buoyant enough to sup- 
 port their owners during the worst of times, as they termed Oli- 
 ver's usurpation, were now so inflated as to transport them nearly 
 beyond the reach of sober reason. Feathers waved, lace glittered, 
 spears jingled, steeds caracoled j and here and there a petronel or 
 pistol was fired off by some one, who found his own natural talents 
 for making a noise inadequate to the dignity of the occasion. Boys, 
 — for, as we said before, the rabble were with the uppermost party, 
 as usual, — halloed and whooped, " Down with the Rump I" and 
 *'Fie upon Oliver!" Musical instruments, of as many different 
 
68 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 fashions as were then in use, played all at once, and wilhoul any 
 regard to each other's tune; and tiie glee of the occasion, while it 
 reconciled Ihe pride of the high-born of the party to fraternize 
 with Ihe general rout, derived an additional zest from the conscious 
 triumph, Ihat Iheir exullalion was heard by their neighbours, the 
 crest-fallen Roundheads. 
 
 When the loud and sonorous swell of the psalm-lune, multiplied 
 by all the echoes of the cliffs and ruinous halls, came full upon 
 their ear, as if to warn them how little they were to reckon upon 
 the depression of their adversaries, at first it was answered with 
 a scornful laugh, raised to as much height as the scoffers' lungs 
 would permit, in order that it might carry to the psalmodists the 
 contempt of their auditors-, but this was a forced exertion of 
 party spleen. There is something in melancholy feeUngs more 
 natural to an imperfect and suffering stale than in those of gaiety, 
 and when they are brought into collision the former seldom fail to 
 triumph. If a funeral-train and wedding-procession were to meet 
 unexpectedly, it will readily be allowed that the mirth of the last 
 would be speedily merged in the gloom of the other. But the Cava- 
 liers, moreover, had sympathies of a different kind. The psalm- 
 tune, which now came rolling on their ear, had been heard too 
 often, and upon too many occasions had preceded victory gained 
 over the malignants, to permit them, even in their triumph, to hear 
 it wilhoul emotion. There was a sort of pause, of which the parly 
 themselves seemed rather ashamed, until the silence was broken by 
 the stout old knight. Sir Jasper Cranbourne, whose gallantry was so 
 universally acknowledged, that he could afford, if we may use such 
 an expression, to confess emotions, which men whose courage was 
 in any respect liable to suspicion, would have thought it more pru- 
 dent to conceal. 
 
 "Adad," said the old Knight, "may I never taste claret again, 
 if that is not the very tune with which the prick-eared villains began 
 their onset at Wiggan-lane, where Ihey Irowled us down like so 
 many ninepins ! Faith, neighbours, to say truth, and shame the 
 devil, I did not like the sound of it above half." 
 
 " If I thought the roundheaded rogues did it in scorn of us," said 
 Dick Wildblood of the Dale, *' I would cudgel their psalmody out of 
 their peasantly throats with this very truncheon ;" a motion which, 
 being seconded by old Roger Raine, the drunken tapster of the 
 Peveril Arms in the village, might have brought on a general bailie, 
 but that Sir Jasper forbade the feud. 
 
 " We'll have no ranting, Dick," said the old Knight to the young 
 Franklin-, "adad, man, we'll have none, for three reasons ; first, 
 because it would be ungentle to Lady Peveril ; then, because it is 
 against the Ring's peace j and, lastly, Dick, because if we did set 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 59 
 
 on the psalm-singing knaves, Ihou mighlest come by Ihe worst, my 
 boy, as has chanced to thee before.' 
 
 " Who, I ! Sir Jasper?" answered Dick — "I come by the worst! 
 — ril be d — d if it ever happened but in that accursed lane, where 
 we had no more flank, front, or rear, than if we had been so many 
 herrings in a barrel." 
 
 *'That was Ihe reason, I fancy," answered Sir Jasper, "that you, 
 to mend (he matter, scrambled into the hedge and stuck there, 
 horse and man, till I beat thee through it wilh my leading-slattj and 
 then, instead of charging to the front, you went righl-about, and 
 away as fast as your feet could carry you." 
 
 This reminiscence produced a laugh at Dick's expense, who was 
 known, or at least suspected, to have more tongue in his head than 
 mettle in his bosom. And this sort of rallying on the part of the 
 Knight having fortunately abated the resentment which had begun 
 to awaken in the breasts of the royalist cavalcade, farther cause for 
 offence was removed, by the sudden ceasing of the sounds which 
 they had been disposed to interpret into those of premeditated 
 insult. 
 
 This was owing to the arrival of the Puritans at the bottom of the 
 large and wide breach, which had been formerly made in the wall cf 
 the Castle by their victorious cannon. The sight of its gaping heaps of 
 rubbish, and disjointed masses of building, up which slowly winded 
 a narrow and steep path, such as is made amongst ancient ruins by 
 the rare passage of those who occasionally visit them, was calculated, 
 when contrasted with the gray and solid massiveness of the towers 
 and curtains which yet stood uninjured, to remind them of their 
 victory over the stronghold of their enemies, and how they had 
 bound nobles and princes with fetters of iron. 
 
 But feelings more suitable to the purpose of their visit to Mar- 
 tindalc Castle, were awakened in the bosoms even of these stern 
 sectaries, when the Lady of the Castle, still in the very prime of 
 beauty and of womanhood, appeared at the top of the breach with 
 her principal female attendants, to receive her guests with the ho- 
 nour and courtesy becoming her invitation. She had laid aside Ihe 
 black dress which had been her sole attire for several years, and 
 was arrayed with a splendour not unbecoming her high descent and 
 quahly. Jewels, indeed, she had none-, but her long and dark hair 
 was surmounted with a chaplet made of oak-leaves, interspersed 
 with lilies ; the former being the emblem of the King's preservation 
 in the Royal Oak, and the latter, of his happy Restoration. What 
 rendered her presence still more interesting to those who looked on 
 her, was the presence of the two children whom she held in either 
 hand ; one of whom was well known to them all to be the child of 
 their leader, Major Bridgenorth, who had been restored to life and 
 health by the almost maternal care of the Lady Peveril. 
 
60 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 If even Ihe inferior persons of the party feU the healing influence 
 of her presence, thus accompanied, poor Bridgenorth was almost 
 overwhelmed with it. The strictness of his cast and manners per- 
 mitted him not to sink on his knee, and kiss the hand which held 
 his little orphan \ but the deepness of his obeisance — the faltering 
 tremor of his voice — and the glistening of his eye, showed a grate- 
 ful respect for the lady whom he addressed — deeper and more reve- 
 rential than could have been expressed even by Persian prostration. 
 A few courteous and mild words, expressive of the pleasure she found 
 in once more seeing her neighbours as her friends — a few kind en- 
 quiries, addressed to the principal individuals among her guests, 
 concerning their families and connexions, completed her triumph 
 over angry thoughts and dangerous recollections, and disposed 
 men's bosoms to sympathize with the purposes of the meeting. 
 
 Even Solsgrace himself, although imagining himself bound by 
 his ofiBce and duty to watch over and counteract the wiles of the 
 " Amalekitish woman," did not escape the sympathetic infection •, 
 being so much struck with the marks of peace and good-will ex- 
 hibited by Lady Peveril, that he immediately raised the psalm, 
 
 '• O what a happy thing it is, 
 
 And joyful, for to see 
 Brethren to dwell together in 
 
 Friendship and unity ! " 
 
 Accepting this salutation as a mark of courtesy repaid, the Lady 
 Peveril marshalled in person this party of her guests to the apart- 
 ment, where ample good cheer was provided for them j and had 
 even the patience to remain while Master Nehemiah Solsgrace pro- 
 nounced a benediction of portentous length, as an inlroduclion to 
 the banquet. Her presence was in some measure a restraint on the 
 worthy divine, whose prolusion lasted the longer, and was the more 
 intricate and embarrassed, that he felt himself debarred from round- 
 ing it off by his usual alliterative petition for deliverance from Po- 
 pery, Prelacy, and Peveril of the Peak, which had become so ha- 
 bitual to him, that, after various attempts to conclude with some 
 other form of words, he found himself at last obhged to pronounce 
 the first words of his usual/b/'mw/a aloud, and mutter the rest in 
 such a manner as not to be intelligible even by those who stood 
 nearest to him. 
 
 The minister's silence was followed by all the various sounds 
 which announce the onset of a hungry company on a well-furnished 
 table ^ and at the same time gave the lady an opportunity to leave 
 the apartment, and look to the accommodation of her other company . 
 She felt, indeed, that it was high time to do so •, and that the royalist 
 guests might be disposed to misapprehend, or even to resent, the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 6l 
 
 prior attentioDS which she had thought it prudent lo offer to the 
 Puritans. 
 
 These apprehensions were not altogether ill-founded. It was in 
 vain that Ihe steward had displayed the royal standard, with i Is proud 
 motto oi Tandem Triumphans, on one of the greai lowers which 
 flanked the main entrance of the Castle \ while, from the other, 
 floated the banner of Peveril of the Peak, under which many of 
 those who now approached had fought during all the vicissitudes of 
 civil war. It was in vain he repeated Iiis clamorous " Welcome, 
 noble Cavaliers I welcome, generous genliemen \ " There was a slight 
 murmur amongst them, that their welcome ought to have come 
 from the mouth of the Coloners lady— not from that of a menial. 
 Sir Jasper Cranbourne, who had sense as well as spirit and courage, 
 and who was aware of his fair cousin's motives, having been indeed 
 consulted by her upon all the arrangements which she had adopted, 
 saw matters were in such a state that no time ought to be lost in 
 conducting the guests to the banqueting apartment, where a for- 
 tunate diversion from all these topics of rising discontent might be 
 made, at the expense of the good cheer of all sorts, which the lady's 
 care had so liberally provided. 
 
 The stratagem of the old soldier succeeded in its utmost extent. 
 He assumed the great oaken-chair usually occupied by the sleward 
 at his audits; and Dr. Dummerar having pronounced a brief Latin 
 benediction ( which was not the less esteemed by the hearers that 
 none of them understood it). Sir Jasper exhorted the company to 
 whet their appetites to the dinner by a brimming cup lo his Majesty's 
 health, filled as high and as deep as their goblets would permit. In 
 a moment all was buslle, w ith the clang of wine-cups and of flagons. 
 In another moment the guests were on their feet like so many sta- 
 tues, all hushed as death, bul with eyes glancing with expeclalion, 
 and hands outslrelched, which displayed their loyal brimmers. The 
 voice of Sir Jasper, clear, sonorous, and emphatic, as the sound of 
 his war-trumpet, announced the health of the restored Monarch, 
 hastily echoed back by the assemblage, impatient to render it due 
 homage. Another brief pause was filled by the draining of their 
 cups, and the mustering breath to join in a shout so loud, that not 
 only the rafters of the old hall trembled while they echoed it back, 
 but the garlands of oaken houghs and flow ers w ith w hich they w ere 
 <lecorated, waved wildly, and rustled as if agitated by a sudden 
 whirlwind. This rile observed, the company proceeded to assail the 
 good cheer with which the table groaned, animated as they were 
 lo the attack both by mirth and melody, for they were attended by 
 all the minstrels of the district, who, like the Episcopal clergy, had 
 been put lo silence during the reign of the self-entitled saints of the 
 Commonw eallh . The social occupation of good eating and drinking, 
 the exchange of pledges belw ixt old neighbours w ho had been fellow- 
 
62 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 soldiers in the moment of resistance —fellow-sufferers in the lime 
 of depression and subjugation, and were now partners in the same 
 general subject of congratulation, soon wiped from ttieir memory 
 the trifling cause of complaint, which in the minds of some had 
 darkened the festivity of the day ; so that when the Lady Peveril 
 walked into the hall, accompanied as before with the children and 
 her female attendants, she was welcomed with the acclamations due 
 to the mistress of the banquet and of the Castle— the dame of the 
 noble Knight, who had led most of them to battle with an undaunted 
 and persevering valour, which was worthy of better success. 
 
 Her address to them was brief and matronly, yet spoken with so 
 much feeling as found its way to every bosom. She apologized for 
 the lateness of her personal welcome, by reminding them that there 
 were then present in Martindale Castle that day, persons whom 
 recent happy events had converted from enemies into friends, but on 
 whom the latter character was so recently imposed, that she dared 
 not neglect with them any point of ceremonial. But those whom she 
 now addressed, were the best, the dearest, the most faithful friends 
 of her husband's house, to whom and to their valour Peveril had not 
 only owed those successes, which had given them and him fame 
 during the late unhappy times, but to whose courage she in particular 
 had owed the preservation of their leader's life, even when it could 
 not avert defeat. A word or two of heartfelt congratulation on the 
 happy restoration of the royal line and authority, completed all 
 which she had boldness to add, and, bowing gracefully round her, 
 she lifted a cup to her lips as if to welcome her guests. 
 
 There still remained, and especially amongst the old Cavaliers of 
 the period, some glimmering of that spirit which inspired Iroissart, 
 when he declares that a knight hath double courage at need, when 
 animated by the looks and words of a beautiful and virtuous woman. 
 It was not until the reign which was commencing at the moment we 
 are treating of, that the unbounded license of the age, introducing 
 a general course of profligacy, degraded the female sex into mere 
 servants of pleasure, and, in so doing, deprived society of that noble 
 tone of feeling towards the sex, which, considered as a spur to 
 *' raise the clear spirit," is superior to every other impulse, save 
 those of religion and of patriotism. The beams of the ancient hall of 
 Martindale Castle instantly rung with a shout louder and shriller 
 than that at which they had so lately trembled, and the names of the 
 Knight of the Peak and his lady were proclaimed amid waving of 
 caps and hats, and universal wishes for their health and happiness. 
 
 Under these auspices the Lady Peveril glided from the hall, and 
 left free space for the revelry of the evening. 
 
 That of the Cavaliers may be easily conceived, since it had the 
 usual accompaniments of singing, jesting, quaffing of healths, and 
 playing of tunes, which have in almost every age and quarter of the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 63 
 
 world been Ihe accompaniments of festive cheer. The enjoyments 
 of the Puritans were of a different and less noisy character. They 
 neither sung, jested, heard music, nor drank healths; and yet they 
 seemed not the less, in their own phrase, to enjoy the creature- 
 comforts which the frailty of humanity rendered grateful to their 
 outward man. Old Whitaker even protested, that, though much the 
 smaller party in point of numbers, they discussed nearly as much 
 sack and claret as his own more jovial associates. But those who 
 considered the steward's prejudices, were inclined to think, that, in 
 order to produce such a result, he must have thrown in his own 
 by-drinkings — no inconsiderable item — to the sum total of the 
 Presbyterian potations. 
 
 Without adopting such a partial and scandalous report, we shall 
 only say, that on this occasion, as on most others, the rareness of 
 indulgence promoted the sense of enjoyment, and that those who 
 made abstinence, or at least moderation, a point of religious prin- 
 ciple, enjoyed their social meeting the better that such opportunities 
 rarely presented themselves. If they did not actually drink each 
 other's healths, they at least showed, by looking and nodding to 
 each other as they raised their glasses, that they all were sharing the 
 same festive gratification of the appetite, and felt it enhanced, 
 because it was at the same time enjoyed by their friends and neigh- 
 bours. Religion, as it was the principal topic of their thoughts, 
 became also the chief subject of their conversation, and as they sat 
 together in small separate knots, they discussed doctrinal and me- 
 taphysical points of belief, balanced the merits of various preachers, 
 compared the creeds of contending sects, and fortified by scriptural 
 quotations those which they favoured. Some contests arose in the 
 course of these debates, which might have proceeded farther than 
 was seemly, but for the cautious interference of Major Bridgenorth. 
 He suppressed also, in the very bud, a dispute betwixt Gaffer 
 Hodgeson of Charnelycot and the Reverend Mr. Solsgrace, upon the 
 tender subject of lay-preaching, and lay-ministering; nor did bethink 
 it altogether prudent or decent to indulge the wishes of some of the 
 warmer enthusiasts of the party, who felt disposed to make the rest 
 partakers of their gifts in extemporaneous prayer and exposition. 
 These were absurdities that belonged to the time, which, however, 
 the Major had sense enough to perceive were unfitted, whether the 
 offspring of hypocrisy or enthusiasm, for the present time and place. 
 The Major was also instrumental in breaking up the party at an 
 early and decorous hour, so that they left the Castle long before their 
 rivals, the Cavaliers, had reached the spring-tide of their merriment ; 
 an arrangement which afforded the greatest satisfaction to the lady, 
 who dreaded the consequences which might not improbably have 
 taken place, had both parties met at the same period and point of 
 retreat. 
 
64 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 It was near midnight ere the greater part of the Cavaliers, mean- 
 ing such as were able to effect their departure without assistance, 
 withdrew to the village of Martindale-MouKrassie, with the benefit 
 of the broad moon, to prevent the chance of accidents. Their shouts, 
 and the burden of Iheir roaring chorus of — 
 
 ' The King shall enjoy his own again ! 
 
 was heard with no small pleasure by the lady, heartily glad that the 
 riot of the day was over without the occurrence of any unpleasing 
 accident. The rejoicing was not, however, entirely ended \ for the 
 elevated Cavaliers, finding some of the villagers still on foot around 
 a bonfire on the street, struck merrily in with them — sent to Roger 
 Raine, of the Peveril Arms, the loyal publican whom we have already 
 mentioned, for two tubs of merry stingo (as it was termed), and lent 
 their own powerful assistance at Ihe dusting it off to the health of 
 the King and the loyal General Monk. Their shouts for a long time 
 disturbed, and even alarmed, the little village; but no enthusiasm 
 is able to withstand for ever the natural consequences of late hours, 
 and potations pottle-deep. The tumult of the exulting royalists at 
 last sunk into silence, and the moon and the owl were left in un- 
 disturbed sovereignty over the- old tower of the village church, 
 which, rising white above a circle of knotty oaks, was tenanted by 
 the bird, and silvered by the planet. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Cavaliers and Roundheads. 
 
 The attempt to contrast the manners of the jovial Cavaliers, and enthusiastic, yet firm 
 and courageous, Puritans, was partly taken from a hint of Shadwell, who sketched several 
 scenes of humour with great force, although they hung heavy on his pencil when he 
 attempted to finish them for the stage. 
 
 In a dull play named the Volunteers, or the Stock-jobbers, the dramatis personam 
 present " Major-General Blunt, an old cavalier ofiicer, somewhat rough in speech, but 
 very brave and honest, and of good understanding, and a good patriot." A contrast to 
 the General is " Colonel Hackwell, senior, an old Anabaptist Colonel of Cromwell's, very 
 stout and godly, but somewhat immoral." 
 
 These worthies, so characterised, hold a dialogue together, which will form a good 
 example of Shadwell's power of dramatizing. The stage is filled by Major-General Blunt 
 and some of his old acquaintance cavaliers, and Hackwell, the ancient parliamentarian. 
 
 ^'' Major-General Blunt. Fear not, my old cavaliers. According to your laudable cus- 
 toms, you shall be drunk, swagger, and fight over all your battles, from Edgehill to 
 Brentford. You have not forgotten how this gentleman {points to Colonel Hackwell) and 
 his demure psalm-singing fellows used to drub us ? 
 
 " isl Cavalier. No, 'gad! I fell 'em once to purpose. 
 
 " M.-G. Blunt. Ah ! a-dod, in high-crowned hats, collared bands, great loose coats, 
 long tucks under 'em, and calves-leather boots, they used to sing a psalm, fall on, and 
 beat us to the devil ! 
 
 " Hackwell, senior. In that day we stood up to the cause ; and the cause, the spiritual 
 cause, did not suffer under our carnal weapons, but the enemy was discomfited, and lo ! 
 they used to flee before us. 
 
 " ist Cavalier. Who would think such a snivelling, p,salm-singing puppy, would 
 fight ? But these godly fellows would lay about 'em as if the devil were in 'em. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 65 
 
 " Sir Nicholas. What a filthy slovenly army was this : I warrant you not a well-dressed 
 man among the Roundheads. 
 
 *' M.-G. Blunt. But these plain fellows would so thrash your swearing, drinking, fine 
 fellows in laced coats— just such as you of the drawing-room and Locket's fellows are 
 now— and so strip them, by the Lord Harry, that after a battle those saints looked like 
 the Israelites loaden with the Egyptian baggage. 
 
 '' Hackwell. Verily, we did take the spoil ; and it served us to turn the penny, and 
 advanced the cause thereby; we fought upon a principle that carried us through. 
 
 " M.-G. Blunt. Prithee, Colonel, we know thy principle— 'twas not right .- thou foughtest 
 against children's baptism, and not for liberty, but who should be your tyrant; none so 
 zealous for Cromwell as thou wert then, nor such a furious agitator and test-man as thou 
 hast been lately. 
 
 " Hackwell, senior. Look you, Colonel, we but proceeded in the way of liberty of 
 worship. 
 
 " M.-G. Blunt. A-dod, there is something more in it. This was thy principle. Colonel 
 —Dominion is founded in grace, and the righteous shall inherit the earth. And, by the 
 Lord Harry, thou didst so ; thou gottest three thousand pounds a-year by fighting against 
 the Court, and I lost a thousand by fighting for it."— See The Volunteers, or Stock-Job- 
 bers, Shadwell's Works, vol. iv., p. 437. 
 
 In a former scene, Hackwell, the old fanatic ofiBcer, conceiving himself offended by 
 one of the dramatis personce, says, with great naiveti—^' I prithee, friend, put me not to 
 use the carnal weapon in my own defence." Such are the traits of phraseology with 
 which Shadwell painted the old Puritan officers, many of whom he— no mean observer of 
 human nature— must have known familiarly. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 'Twas when they raised, 'mid sap and siege. 
 The banners of their rightful liege, 
 
 At their she-captain's call. 
 Who, miracle of womankind f 
 Lent mettle to the meanest hind 
 
 That mann'd her castle wall. 
 
 William S. Rose. 
 
 On the morning succeeding the feast, the Lady Peveril, fatigued 
 with the exertions and the apprehensions of the former day, kept 
 her apartment for two or three hours later than her own active ha- 
 bits and the matutinal custom of the time rendered usual. Mean- 
 while, Mistress Ellesmere, a person of great trust in the family, and 
 who assumed much authority in her mistress's absence, laid her 
 orders upon Deborah, the governante, immediately to carry the 
 children to Iheir airing in the park, and not to let any one enter the 
 gilded chamber, which was usually their sporting-place. Deborah, 
 who often rebelled, and sometimes successfully, against the depu- 
 ted authority of Ellesmere, privately resolved that it was about lo 
 rain, and that the gilded chamber was a more suitable place for 
 the children's exercise than the wet grass of the park on a raw 
 morning. 
 
 But a woman's brain is sometimes as inconstant as a popular as- 
 sembly ', and presently after she had voted the morning was like to 
 be rainy, and that the gilded chamber was the fittest play-room for 
 Ihc children, Mistress Deborah came to the somewhat inconsistent 
 
 5 
 
66 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 resolution, Ihat the park was the fittest place for her own morning 
 walk. It is certain, Ihal during the unrestrained jovially of the pre- 
 ceding evening, she had danced till midnight wilh Lance Oulram, 
 the park-keeper 5 but how far the seeing him just pass the window 
 in his woodland trim, wilh a feather in his hat, and a crossbow 
 under his arm, influenced the discrepancy of the opinions Mrs. De- 
 borah formed concerning the weather, we are far from presuming 
 to guess. It is enough for us, that so soon as Mistress Ellesmere's 
 back was turned, Mistress Deborah carried the children into the 
 gilded chamber, not without a strict charge ( for we must do her 
 justice ) to Master Julian to take care of his little wife, Mistress 
 Alice ^ and then, having taken so satisfactory a precaution, she her- 
 self glided into the park by the glass-door of the still-room, which 
 was nearly opposite to the great breach. 
 
 The gilded chamber in which the children were, by this arrange- 
 ment, left to amuse themselves, without belter guardianship than 
 what Julian's manhood afforded, was a large apartment, hung wilh 
 stamped Spanish leather, curiously gilded, representing, in a 
 manner now obsolete, but far from unpieasing, a series of tilts and 
 combats betwixt the Saracens of Grenada, and the Spaniards under 
 the command of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella, during that 
 memorable siege, which was terminated by Ihe overthrow of the 
 last fragments of the Moorish empire in Spain. 
 
 The little Julian was careering about the room for the amusement 
 of his infant friend, as well as his own, mimicking with a reed the 
 menacing attitude of the Abencerrages and Zegris engaged in the 
 Eastern sport of hurling the jerid, or javelin ; and at times sitting 
 down beside her, and caressing her into silence and good-humour, 
 when the petulant or timid child chose to become tired of remaining 
 an inactive spectator of his boisterous sport ; when, on a sudden, he 
 observed one of the panelled compartments of the leather hangings 
 slide apart, so as to show a fair hand, wilh its fingers resting upon 
 its edge, prepared, it would seem, to push it still farther back. Ju- 
 lian was much surprised, and somewhat frightened, at what he 
 witnessed, for the tales of the nursery had strongly impressed on 
 his mind the terrors of the invisible world. Yet, naturally bold and 
 high-spirited, the little champion placed himself beside his defence- 
 less sister, continuing to brandish his weapon in her defence, as 
 boldly as he had himself been an Abencerrage of Grenada. 
 
 The panel, on which his eye was fixed, gradually continued to 
 slide back, and display more and more the form to which the hand 
 appertained, until. In the dark aperture which was disclosed, the 
 children saw the figure of a lady in a mourning dress, past the me- 
 ridian of life, but whose countenance still retained traces of great 
 beauty, although the predominant character both of her features 
 and person was an air of almost royal dignity. After pausing a 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 67 
 
 moment on Ihe threshold of the portal which slie had thus unex- 
 pectedly disclosed, and looking with some surprise at the children, 
 whom she had not probably observed while engaged with the ma- 
 nagement of the panel, the stranger, stepped into the apartment, 
 and the panel, upon a touch of a spring, closed behind her so sud- 
 denly, that Julian almost doubted it had ever been open, and began 
 to apprehend that the whole apparition had been a delusion' . 
 
 The stately lady, however, advanced to him, and said, " Are not 
 you the little Peveril?" 
 
 " Yes," said theboy, reddening, not altogether withoutajuvenile 
 feehng of that rule of chivalry which forbade any one to disown his 
 name, whatever danger might be annexed to the avowal of it. 
 
 " Then," said the stately stranger, " go to your mother's room, 
 and tell her to come instantly to speak with me." 
 
 '• I won't," said the little Julian. 
 
 ''How !" said the lady, — "so young and so disobedient ?— but 
 you do but follow the fashion of the time. Why will you not go, 
 my pretty boy, when I ask it of you as a favour?" 
 
 " I would go, madam," said the boy, "but" — and he stopped 
 short, still drawing back as the lady advanced on him, but still 
 holding by the hand Alice Bridgenorth, who, too young to un- 
 derstand the nature of the dialogue, clung, trembling, to her com- 
 panion. 
 
 The stranger saw his embarrassment, smiled, and remained 
 standing fast, while she asked the child once more, " What are you 
 afraid of, my brave boy — and why should you not go to your mother 
 on my errand?" 
 
 "Because," answered Julian, firmly, "if I go, little Alice must 
 slay alone with you." 
 
 " You are a gallant fellow," said the lady, " and will not disgrace 
 your blood, which never left the weak without protection." 
 
 The boy understood her not, and still gazed with anxious appre- 
 hension, first on her who addressed him, and then upon his little 
 companion, whose eyes, with the vacant glance of infancy, wan- 
 dered from the figure of the lady to that of her companion and pro- 
 tector, and at length, infected by a portion of the fear which the 
 latter's magnanimous efforts could not entirely conceal, she flew 
 into Julian's arms, and chnging to him, greatly augmented his 
 alarm, and by screaming aloud, rendered it very difficult for him 
 to avoid the sympathetic fear which impelled him to do the same. 
 
 There was something in the manner and bearing of this unex- 
 pected inmate, which might justify awe at least, if not fear, when 
 joined to the singular and mysterious mode in which she had made 
 her appearance. Her dress was not remarkable, being the hood and 
 
 ' Note I., p, 78. Concealment of the Countess of Derby. 
 
68 PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 female riding allire of the lime, such as was worn by the inferior 
 class of gentlewomen •, hut her black hair was very long, and, se- 
 veral locks having escaped from under her hood, hung down di- 
 shevelled on her neck and shoulders. Her eyes were deep black, 
 keen, and piercing, and her features had something of a foreign 
 expression. When she spoke, her language was marked by a slight 
 foreign accent, although, in construction, it was pure English. Her 
 slightest tone and gesture had the air of one accustomed to com- 
 mand and to be obeyed ^ the recollection of which probably sug- 
 gested to Julian the apology he afterwards made for being fright- 
 ened, that he took the stranger for an " enchanted queen." 
 
 While the stranger lady and the children thus confronted each 
 other, two persons entered almost at the same instant, but from 
 different doors, whose haste showed that they had been alarmed by 
 the screams of the latter. 
 
 The first was Major Bridgenorth, whose ears had been alarmed 
 with the cries of his child as he entered the hall, which corre- 
 sponded with what was called the gilded chamber. His intention 
 had been to remain in the more public apartment, until the Lady 
 Peveril should make her appearance, with the good-natured pur- 
 pose of assuring her that the preceding day of tumult had passed 
 in every respect agreeably to his friends, and without any of those 
 alarming consequences which might have been apprehended from 
 a collision betwixt the parlies. But when it is considered how se- 
 verely he had been agitated by apprehensions for his child's safety 
 and health, too well justified by the fate of those who had preceded 
 her, it will not be thought surprising that the infantine screams of 
 Alice induced him to break through the barriers of form, and in- 
 trude farther into the interior of the house than a sense of strict pro- 
 priety might have warranted. 
 
 He burst into the gilded chamber, therefore, by a side-door and 
 narrow passage, which communicated betwixt that apartment and 
 the hall, and, snatching the child up in his arms, endeavoured, by 
 a thousand caresses, to stifle the screams which burst yet more vio- 
 lently from the little girl, on beholding herself in the arms of one 
 to whose voice and manner she was, but for one brief interview, an 
 entire stranger. 
 
 Of course, Alice's shrieks were redoubled, and seconded by 
 those of Julian Peveril, who, on the appearance of this second in- 
 truder, was frightened into resignation of every more manly idea 
 of rescue than that which consisted in invoking assistance at the 
 very top of his lungs. 
 
 Alarmed by this noise, which in half a minute became very cla- 
 morous, Lady Peveril, with whose apartment (he gilded chamber 
 was connecled by a private door of communication opening inlo 
 her wardrobe, entered on the scene. The inslant she appeared, Ihe 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ^^ 
 
 little Alice, extricating herself from the grasp of her father, ran 
 towards her protectress, and when she had once taken hold of her 
 skirts, not only became silent but turned her large blue eyes, in 
 which the tears were still glistening, with a look of wonder rather 
 than alarm, towards Ihe strange lady. Julian manfully brandished 
 his reed, a weapon which he had never -parted with during the 
 whole alarm, and stood prepared to asist his mother if there should 
 be danger in the encounter betwixt her and the stranger. 
 
 In fact, it might have puzzled an older person (o account for the 
 sudden and confused pause which the Lady Peveril made, as she 
 gazed on her unexpected guest, as if dubious whether she did or did 
 not recognise, in her still beautiful though wasted and emaciated 
 features, a countenance which she had known well under far dif- 
 ferent circumstances. 
 
 The stranger seemed to understand her cause of hesitation, for 
 she said in that heart-thrilling voice which was pecuharly her own — 
 
 '' Time and misfortune have changed me much, Margaret — that 
 every mirror tells me — yet methinks, Margaret Stanley might still 
 have known Charlotte de la Tremouille." 
 
 The Lady Peveril was little in the custom of giving way to sud- 
 den emotion, but in the present case she threw herself on her knees 
 in a rapture of mingled joy and grief, and, half embracing those of 
 the stranger, exclaimed, in broken language — 
 
 "My kind, my noble benefactress-— f he princely Countess of 
 Derby — the royal Queen in Man— could I doubt your voice, your 
 features, for a moment — O, forgive, forgive me!" 
 
 The Countess raised the suppliant kinswoman of her husband's 
 house, with all the grace of one accustomed from early birth to 
 receive homage and to grant protection. She kissed the Lady Pe- 
 veril's forehead, and passed her hand in a caressing manner over 
 her face as she said — 
 
 " You too are changed, my fair cousin, but it is a change be 
 comes you, from a pretty and timid maiden to a sage and comely 
 matron. But my own memory, which I once held a good one, has 
 failed me strangely, if this gentleman be Sir Geoffrey Peveril." 
 
 '' A kind and good neighbour only, madam," said Lady Peveril^ 
 " Sir Geoffrey is at Court." 
 
 " I understood so much," said the Countess of Derby, " when I 
 arrived here last night." 
 
 *' How, madam !" said Lady Peveril — '' Did you arrive at Mar- 
 tindale Castle— at the house of Margaret Stanley, where you have 
 such right to command, and did not announce your presence toher ? ' 
 
 *' O, I know you are a dutiful subject, Margaret," answered the 
 Countess, '-'- though it be in these days a rare character — but it was 
 our pleasure," she added with a smile, " to travel incognito— and 
 
70 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 finding you engaged in general hospitality, we desired not to dis- 
 turb you with our royal presence." 
 
 "But how and where were you lodged, madam?" said Lady Pe- 
 veril^ " or why should you have kept secret a visit which would, 
 if made known, have augmented tenfold the happiness of every true 
 heart that rejoiced here yesterday ?" 
 
 "My lodging was well cared for by Ellesmere — your EUesmere 
 now, as she was formerly mine — she has acted as quarter-master 
 ere now, you know, and on a broader scale 5 you must excuse her 
 — she had my positive order to lodge me in the most secret part of 
 your Caslle"— ( here she pointed to the sliding panel ) — ' ' she obeyed 
 orders in that, and I suppose also in sending you now hither?" 
 
 " Indeed I have not yet seen her," said the lady, "and therefore 
 was totally ignorant of a visit so joyful, so surprising." 
 
 "And I," said the Countess, "^was equally surprised to find 
 none but these beautiful children in the apartment where I thought 
 I heard you moving. Our Ellesmere has become silly — your good- 
 nature has spoiled her — she has forgotten the discipline she learned 
 under me." 
 
 "I saw her rim through the wood, said the Lady Peveril, after a 
 moment recollection, "undoubtedly to seek the person who has 
 charge of the children, in order to remove them." 
 
 " Your own darlings, I doubt not," said the Countess, looking at 
 the children. " Margaret, Providence has blessed you." 
 
 " That is my son," said Lady Peveril, pointing to Julian, who 
 stood devouring their discourse with greedy ear ^ "the little girl — 
 I may call mine too." Major Bridgenorth, who had in the mean- 
 time again taken up his infant, and was engaged in caressing it, set 
 it down as the Countess of Derby spoke, sighed deeply, and walked 
 towards the oriel window. He was well aware that the ordinary 
 rules of courtesy would have rendered it proper that he should 
 withdraw entirely, or at least offer to do so •, but he was not a man 
 of ceremonious politeness, and he had a particular interest in the 
 subjects on which the Countess's discourse was likely to turn, which 
 induced him to dispense with ceremony. The ladies seemed indeed 
 scarce to notice his presence. The Countess had now assumed a 
 chair, and motioned to the Lady Peveril to sit upon a stool which 
 was placed by her side. "We will have old times once more, 
 though there are here no roaring of rebel guns to drive you to take 
 refuge at my side, and almost in my pocket." 
 
 " I have a gun, madam," said little Julian, "and the park-keeper 
 is to leach me how to fire it next year." 
 
 "I will list you for my soldier, then," said the Countess. 
 
 "Ladies have no soldiers," said the boy, looking wistfulfy at her. 
 
 "He has the true masculine contempt of our frail sex, I see," 
 said the Countess ; "it is born with the insolent varlets of mankind, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 71 
 
 and shows itself as soon as they are out of their long clothes.^ — Did 
 Ellesmere never tell you of Latham-House and Charlotte of Derby, 
 my little master?'* 
 
 "A thousand thousand limes," sail the boy, colouring; '*and 
 how the Queen of Man defended it six weeks against three thousand 
 Roundheads, under Rogue Harrison the butcher." 
 
 "It was your mother defended Latham-House," said the Court- 
 tess, " not I, my little soldier — Hadst thou been there, thou hadst 
 been the best captain of the three." 
 
 *' Do not say so, madam," said the boy, " for mamma would not 
 touch a gun for all the universe." 
 
 " Not I, indeed, Julian," said his mother ^ " there I was for cer- 
 tain, but as useless a part of the garrison" 
 
 *' You forget," said the Countess, " you nursed our hospital, and 
 made lint for the soldiers' wounds." 
 
 " But did not papa come to help you ? " said Julian., 
 
 "Papa came at last," said the Countess, "and so did Prince 
 Rupert — but not, I think, till they were both heartily wished for — 
 Do you remember that morning, Margaret, when the roundheaded 
 knaves, that kept us pent up so long, retreated without bag or bag- 
 gage, at the first glance of the Prince's standards appearing on the 
 hill — and how you took every high-crested captain you saw for 
 Peveril of the Peak, that had been your partner three months be- 
 fore at the Queen's mask? Nay, never blush for the thought of it — 
 it was an honest aCfcclion — and though it was the music of trumpets 
 that accompanied you both to the old chapel, which was almost 
 entirely ruined by the enemy's bullets ; and though Prince Rupert, 
 when he gave you away at the altar, was clad in buff and bandalier, 
 with pistols in his belt, yet I trust these warlike signs were no type 
 of future discord?" 
 
 "Heaven has been kind to me," said Lady Peveril, " in blessing 
 "me with an affectionate husband." 
 
 "And in preserving him to you," said the Countess, with a deep 
 sigh ; " while mine alas ! sealed with his blood his devotion to his 
 king ' — O, had he lived to see this day I " 
 
 " Alas! alas! that he was not permitted!" answered Lady Pe-^ 
 veril -, "how had that brave and noble Earl rejoiced in the unhoped- 
 for redemption of our captivity !" 
 
 The Countess looked on Lady Peveril with an air of surprise. 
 
 "Thou hast not then heard, cousin, how it stands with our 
 house? — How indeed had my noble lord wondered, had he been 
 told that the very monarch for whom he laid down his noble life on 
 the scaffold at the Bolton-le-Moor, should make it his first act of re- 
 stored monarchy to complete the destruction of our property, al- 
 
 ' The Earl of Derby and King in Man was beheaded at BoIlon-on-lhe-Moor$, after 
 having been made prisoner in a previous skirmish in Wiggan Lane. 
 
72 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 ready wellnigh ruined in the royal cause, and to persecute me his 
 widow ! " 
 
 ''You astonish me, madam I" said the Lady Peveril. "II can- 
 not be, that you— that you, the wife of the gallant, the faithful, the 
 murdered Earl— you, Countess of Derby, and Queen in Man— you, 
 who look on you even the character of a soldier, and seemed a man 
 when so many men proved women — that you should sustain evil 
 from the event which has fulfilled — exceeded— the hope of every 
 faithful subject — it cannot be I '* 
 
 "Thou art as simple, I see, in this world's knowledge as ever, my 
 fair cousin," answered the Countess. "This restoration, which 
 has given others security, has placed me in danger — this change 
 which relieved other royalists, scarce less zealous, I presume to 
 think, than I — has sent me here a fugitive, and in concealment, 
 to beg shelter and assistance from you, fair cousin." 
 
 "From me," answered the Lady Peveril— "from me, whose 
 youth your kindness sheltered— from the wife of Peveril, your 
 gallant Lord's companion in arms — you have a right to command 
 every thing ; but, alas! that you should need such assistance as I can 
 render — forgive me, but it seems like some ill-omened vision of 
 the night— I listen to your words as if I hoped to be relieved from 
 their painful import by awaking." 
 
 " It is indeed a dream — a vision," said the Countess of Derby : 
 "but it needs no seer to read it — the explanation hath been long 
 since given — Put not your faith in princes. I can soon remove your 
 surprise. —This gentleman, your friend, is doubtless honest^ 
 
 The Lady Peveril well knew that the Cavaliers, like other fac- 
 tions, usurped to themselves the exclusive denomination of the 
 honest party, and she fell some difificully in explaining that her 
 visitor was not honest in that sense of the word. 
 
 " Had we not better retire, madam," she said to the Countess, 
 rising, as if in order to attend her. But the Countess retained her 
 seal. 
 
 "It was but a question of habit," she saidj "the gentleman's 
 principles are nothing to me, for what I have to tell you is widely 
 blazed, and I care not who hears my share of it. You remember — 
 you must have heard, for I think Margaret Stanley would not be 
 indifTerent to my fate — that after my husband's murder at Bolton, 
 I took up the standard which he never dropped until his death, 
 and displayed it wilh my own hand in our Sovereignty of Man." 
 
 " I did indeed hear so, madam," said the Lady Peveril; " and 
 Ihal you had bidden a bold defiance to the rebel government, even 
 after all other parls of Britain had submitted to them. Mj husband, 
 Sir Geoffrey, designed at one time to have gone to your assistance 
 with some few followers ; but we learned that the island was rcn- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 73 
 
 dered to Ihe Parliament party, and that you, dearest lady, were 
 thrown into prison.' 
 
 "But you heard not," said the Countess, "how that disaster 
 befell me. — Margaret, I would have held out that island against 
 the knaves as long as the sea continued to flow around it. Till the 
 shoals which surround it had become safe anchorage — till its pre- 
 cipices had melted beneath the sunshine — till of all its strong abodes 
 and castles, not one stone remained upon another, would I have 
 defended against these villanous hypocritical rebels my dear hus- 
 band's hereditary dominion. The little kingdom of Man should have 
 been yielded only when not an arm was left to wield a sword, not 
 a finger to draw a trigger in its defence. But treachery did what 
 force could never have done. When we had foiled various attempts 
 upon the island by open force — treason accomplished what Blake 
 and Lawson, with their floating castles, had found too hazardous 
 an enterprise- — a base rebel, whom we had nursed in our own 
 bosoms, betrayed us to the enemy. This wretch was named 
 Christian" 
 
 Major Bridgenorth started and turned towards the speaker, but 
 instantly seemed to recollect himself, and again averted his face. 
 The Countess proceeded, without noticing the interruption, which, 
 however, rather surprised Lady Peveril, who was acquainted with 
 her neighbour's general habits of indiiference and apathy, and 
 therefore the more surprised at his testifying such sudden symp- 
 toms of interest. She would once again have moved the Countess 
 to retire to another apartment, but Lady Derby proceeded with loo 
 much vehemence to endure interruption. 
 
 " This Christian," she said, " had eat of my lord his sovereign's 
 bread, and drunk of his cup, even from childhood — for his fathers 
 had been faithful servants to the House of Man and Derby. He 
 himself had fought bravely by my husband s side, and enjoyed all 
 his confidence 5 and when my princely Earl was martyred by the 
 rebels, he recommended to me, amongst other instructions com- 
 municated in the last message I received from him, to continue my 
 confidence in Christian's fidelity. I obeyed, although I never loved 
 the man. He was cold and phlegmatic, and utterly devoid of that 
 sacred fire which is the incentive to noble deeds, suspected too of 
 leaning to the cold metaphysics of Calvinistic subtilty. But he was 
 brave, wise, and experienced, and, as the event proved, possessed 
 but too much interest with the islanders. When these rude people 
 saw themselves without hope of relief, and pressed by a blockade, 
 which brought want and disease into their island, they began to fall 
 off from the faith which they had hitherto shown." 
 
 " What I" said the Lady Peveril, " could they forget what was 
 due to the widow of their benefactor —she who had shared with the 
 generous Derby the task of bettering their condition ?" 
 
74 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " Do not blame them," said the Countess ; *' the rude herd acted 
 but according to their kind — in present distress they forgot former 
 benefils, and. nursed in their earthen hovels, with spirits suited to 
 their dwellings, they were incapable of feeling the glory which is 
 attached to constancy in suffering. But that Christian should have 
 headed their revolt — that he, born a gentleman, and bred under my 
 murdered Derby's own care in all that was chivalrous and noble — 
 that he should have forgot a hundred benefits — why do I talk of 
 benefits? — that he should have forgotten that kindly intercourse 
 which binds man to man far more than the reciprocity of obligalioa 
 — that he should have headed the ruffians who broke suddenly into 
 my apartment— immured me with my infants in one of my own 
 castles, and assumed or usurped the tyranny of the island — that 
 this should have been done by William Christian, my vassal, my 
 servant, my friend, was a deed of ungrateful treachery, which even 
 this age of treason will scarcely parallel I" 
 
 " And you were then imprisoned," said the Lady-Peveril, " and 
 in your own sovereignty !" 
 
 " For more than seven years I have endured strict captivity," 
 said the Countess. '' I was indeed offered my liberty and even some 
 means of support, if I would have consented to leave the island, 
 and pledge my word that I would not endeavour to repossess my 
 son in his father's rights. But they little knew the princely house 
 from which I spring, and as little the royal house of Stanley which 
 I uphold, who hoped to humble Charlotte of Tremouille into so 
 base a composition. I would rather have starved in the darkest and 
 lowest vault of Rushin Castle, than have consented to aught which 
 might diminish in one hair's breadth the right of my son over his 
 father's sovereignty." 
 
 "And could not your firmness, in a case where hope seemed 
 lost, induce them to be generous, and dismiss you without condi- 
 tions?" 
 
 " They knew me better than thou dost, wench," answered the 
 Countess ; '' once at liberty, I had not been long without the means 
 of disturbing their usurpation, and Christian would have as soon 
 uncaged a lioness to combat with, as have given me the slightest 
 power of returning to the struggle with him. But lime had liberty 
 and revenge in store — I had still friends and partisans in the island, 
 though they were compelled to give way to the storm. Even among 
 the islanders at large, most had been disappointed in the effects 
 which they expected from the change of power. They were loaded 
 with exactions by their new masters, their privileges were abridged, 
 and their immunities abolished, under the pretext of reducing them 
 to the same condition with the other subjects of the pretended re- 
 public. When the news arrived of the changes which were cur- 
 rent in Britain, these sentiments were privately communicated to 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 75 
 
 me. CalcoU and others acted with great zeal and fidelity ^ and a 
 rising, effected as suddenly and effectually as that which had made 
 me a captive, placed me at liberty and in possession of the Sove- 
 reignty of Man, as Regent for my son, the youthful Earl of Derby. 
 Do you think I enjoyed that sovereignty long without doing justice 
 on that traitor Christian?" 
 
 " How, madam," said Lady Peveril, who, though she knew the 
 high and ambitious spirit of the Countess, scarce anticipated the 
 extremities to which it was capable of hurrying her — " Have you 
 imprisoned Christian?" 
 
 " Ay, wench — in that sure prison which felon never breaks 
 from," answered the Countess. 
 
 Bridgenorth, who had insensibly approached them, and was list- 
 ening with an agony of interest which he was unable any longer 
 to suppress, broke in with the stern exclamation — 
 
 '' Lady, I trust you have not dared"- 
 
 The Countess interrupted him in her turn. 
 
 " I know not who you are who question — and you know not me 
 when you speak to me of that which I dare, or dare not, do. But 
 you seem interested in the fate of this Christian, and you shall hear 
 it. — I was no sooner placed in possession of my rightful power, than 
 I ordered the Dempster of the island to hold upon the traitor a High 
 Court of Justice, with all the formalities of the isle, as prescribed 
 in its oldest records. The Court was held in the open air, before 
 the Dempster and the Keys of the island, assembled under the 
 vaulted cope of heaven, and seated on the terrace of the Zonwald 
 Hill, where of old Druid and Scald held their courts of judgment. 
 The criminal was heard at length in his own defence, which 
 amounted to little more than those specious allegations of public 
 consideration, which are ever used to colour the ugly front of 
 treason. He was fully convicted of his crime, and he received the 
 doom of a traitor." 
 
 " But which, I trust, is not yet executed?" said Lady Peveril, not 
 without an involuntary shudder. 
 
 " You are a fool, Margaret," said the Countess, sharply ; '' think 
 you I delayed such an act of justice, until some wretched intrigues 
 of the new English Court might have prompted their interference? 
 No, wench— he passed from the judgment-seat to the place of exe- 
 cution, with no farther delay than might be necessary for his soul's 
 sake. He was shot to death by a file of musketeers in the common 
 place of execution, called Hango-hill '." 
 
 Bridgenorth clasped his hands together, wrung them, and groaned 
 bitterly. 
 
 *' As you seem interested for this criminal," added the Countess, 
 
 ' ]Vot« H., p. 79. Trial and Execution of Christian. 
 
76 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 addressing Bridgenorth, " I do him but justice in reporting to you, 
 that his death was firm and manly, becoming the general tenor of 
 his life which, but for that gross act of traitorous ingratitude, had 
 been fair and honourable. But what of that? The hypocrite is a 
 saint, and the false traitor a man of honour, till opportunity, that 
 faithful touchstone, proves their melal to be base." 
 
 " It is false, woman — it is false!" said Bridgenorth, no longer 
 suppressing his indignation. 
 
 "What means this bearing. Master Bridgenorth?" said Lady 
 Peveril, much surprised. " What is this Christian to you, that you 
 should insult the Countess of Derby under my roof?" 
 
 " Speak not to me of Countesses and of ceremonies," said Bridge- 
 north ; " grief and anger leave me no leisure for idle observances 
 to humour the vanity of overgrown children. — Oh Christian — 
 worthy, well worthy, of the name thou didst bear I My friend — 
 my brother — the brother of my blessed Alice—the only friend of 
 my desolate estate ! art thou then cruelly murdered by a female fury, 
 who, but for thee, had deservedly paid with her own blood that of 
 God's saints, which she, as well as her tyrant husband, had spilled 
 like water!— Yes, cruel murderess!" he continued, addressing the 
 Countess, " he whom thou hast butchered in thy insane vengeance, 
 sacrificed for many a year the dictates of his own conscience to the 
 interest of thy family, and did not desert it till thy franctic zeal for 
 royalty had wellnigh brought to utter perdition the Utile community 
 in which he was born. Even in confining thee, he acted but as the 
 friends of the madman, who bind him with iron for his own preser- 
 vation 5 and for thee, as I can bear witness, he was the only bar- 
 rier between thee and the wrath of the Commons of England ^ and 
 but for his earnest remonstrances, thou hadst suffered the penalty 
 of thy malignancy, even like the wicked wife of Ahab." 
 
 '•Master Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, "I will allow for 
 your impatience upon hearing these unpleasing tidings •, but there 
 is neither use nor propriety in farther urging this question. If in 
 your grief you forget other restraints, I pray you to remember that 
 the Countess is my guest and kinswoman, and is under such pro- 
 lection as I can afford her. I beseech you, in simple courtesy, to 
 withdraw, as what must needs be the best and most becoming 
 course in these trying circumstances." 
 
 " Nay, let him remain," said the Countess, regarding him with 
 composure, not unmingled with triumph; " I would not have it 
 otherwise ; I would not that my revenge should be summed up in 
 the stinted gratification which Christian's death hath afforded. 
 This man's rude and clamorous grief only proves that the retribu- 
 tion I have dealt has been more widely felt than by the wretched 
 sufferer himself. I would 1 knew that it had but made sore as many 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 77 
 
 rebel hearts, as there were loyal breasts afflicted by the death of 
 my princely Derby I" 
 
 " So please you, madam," said Lady Peveril, " since Master 
 Bridgenorlh hath not the manners to leave us upon my request, 
 we will, if your ladyship lists, leave him, and retire to my apart- 
 ment. — Farewell, Master Bridgenorlh ; we will meet hereafter on 
 better terms." 
 
 "• Pardon me, madam," said the Major, who had been striding 
 hastily through the room, but now stood fast, and drew himself up, 
 as one who has taken a resolution •, — " to yourself I have nothing 
 to say but what is respectful •, but to this woman I must speak as a 
 magistrate. She has confessed a murder in my presence — the 
 murder too of my brother-in-law — as a man, and as a magistrate, 
 I cannot permit her to pass from hence excepting under such cus- 
 tody as may prevent her farther flight. She has already confessed 
 that she is a fugitive, and in search of a place of concealment, until 
 she should be able to escape inio foreign parts. — Charlotte, Coun- 
 tess of Derby, I attach thee of the crime of which thou hast but 
 now made thy boast." 
 
 " I shall not obey your arrest," said the Countess, composedly^ 
 " I was born to give, but not to receive such orders. What have 
 your English laws to do with my acts of justice and of government, 
 within my son's hereditary kingdom? Am I not Queen in Man, as 
 well as Countess of Derby? A feudatory Sovereign indeed 5 but yet 
 independent so long as my dues of homage are duly discharged. 
 What right can you assert over me?" 
 
 " That given by the precept of Scripture," answered Bridge- 
 north — " ' Whoso spilleth man's blood, by man shall his blood 
 be spilled.' Think not that the barbarous privileges of ancient 
 feudal customs will avail to screen you from the punishment due 
 for an Englishman murdered upon pretexts inconsistent with the 
 act of indemnity." 
 
 *' Master Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, " if by fair terms you 
 desist not from your present purpose, I tell you that I neither dare, 
 nor will, permit any violence against this honourable lady, within 
 the walls of my husband's castle." 
 
 " You will find yourself unable to prevent me from executing my 
 duty, madam," said Bridgenorlh, whose native obstinacy now came 
 in aid of his grief and desire of revenge; " I am a magistrate, and 
 act by authority." 
 
 " I know not that," said Lady Peveril. " That you were a ma- 
 gistrate. Master Bridgenorlh, under the late usurping powers, I 
 know well ; but till I hear of your having a commission in the 
 name of the King, I now hesitate to obey you as such." 
 
 " I shall stand on small ceremony," said Bridgenorth. " Were 
 I no magistrate, every man has title to arrest for murder against 
 
78 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 the terms of the indemnities held out by the King's proclamations, 
 and I will make my point good." 
 
 ''What indemnities! What proclamations?" said the Countess 
 of Derby, indignantly. " Charles Stuart may, if he pleases ( and it 
 doth seem to please him ), consort with those whose hands have 
 been red with the blood, and blackened with the plunder, of his 
 father and of his loyal subjects. He may forgive them if he will, 
 and count their deeds good service. What has that to do with this 
 Christian's offence against me and mine? Born a Manksman — bred 
 and nursed in the island — he broke the laws under which he lived, 
 and died for the breach of them, after the fair trial which they al- 
 lowed. — Melhinks, Margaret, we have enough of this peevish and 
 foolish magistrate — I attend you to your apartment." 
 
 Major Bridgenorlh placed himself betwixt them and the door, in 
 a manner which showed him determined to interrupt their passage; 
 when the Lady Peveril, who thought she had already shown more 
 deference to him in this matter than her husband was likely to ap- 
 prove of, raised her voice, and called loudly on her steward, Whi- 
 taker. That alert person, who had heard high talking, and a fe- 
 male voice with which he was unacquainted, had remained for 
 several minutes stationed in the anteroom, much afflicted with the 
 anxiety of his own curiosity. Of course he entered in an instant. 
 
 " Let three of the men instantly take arms," said his lady ^ '' bring 
 them into the anteroom, and wait my farther orders." 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER V. 
 
 Note I., p. 67.— Concealment of the Countess of Derby. 
 
 The concealment and discovery of the Countess of Derby, is taken from a picturesque 
 account of a similar event, described to me by the person by whom it was witnessed in 
 childhood. This lady, by name Mrs. Margaret Swinton, and a daughter of that ancient 
 house, was a sister of my maternal grandmother, and of course my grandaunt. She was, 
 as often happens on such occasions, our constant resource in sickness, or when we tired 
 of noisy play, and closed around her to listen to her tales. As she might be supposed to 
 look back to the beginning of the last century, the fund which supplied us,with amuse- 
 ment often related to events of that period. I may here notice that she told me the 
 anhappy story of the Bride of Lammermoor, being nearly related to the Lord President, 
 whose daughter was the heroine of that melancholy tragedy. 
 
 The present tale, though of different character, was also sufficiently striking, when 
 told by an eyewitness. Aunt Margaret was , I suppose, seven or eight years old, when 
 residing in the old mansion-house of Swinton, and already displayed the firmness and 
 sagacity which distinguished her through life. Being one of a large family, she was, owing 
 to slight indisposition, left at home one day when the rest of the family went to church, 
 with Sir John and Lady Swinton, their parents. Before leaving the little invalid, she was 
 strictly enjoined not to go into the parlour where the elder party had breakfasted. But 
 when she found herself alone in the upper part of the house, the spirit of her great ances- 
 tress Eve took -possession of my Aunt Margaret, and forth she went to examine the 
 parlour in question. She was struck with admiration and fear at what she saw there. A 
 lady,'' beautiful exceedingly," was seated by the breakfast table, and employed in washing 
 the dishes which had been used. Little Margaret would have had no doubt in accounting 
 this singular vision an emanation from the angelical world, but for her em])loyment, 
 which she could not so easily reconcile to her ideas of angels. 
 
 The lady with great presence of miud, called the astonished child to her, fondled her 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 79 
 
 with much tenderness, and judiciously avoiding to render the necessity of secrecy too 
 severe, she told the girl she must not let any one except her mother know that she had 
 seen her. Having allowed this escape-valve for the benefit of her curiosity, the myste- 
 rious stranger desired the little girl to look from the window of the parlour to see if her 
 mother was returning from church. When she turned her head again, the fair vision had 
 vanished, but by what means Miss Margaret was unable to form a conjecture. 
 
 Long watched, and eagerly waited for, the Lady Swinlon at last returned from church, 
 and her daughter lost no time in telling her extraordinary tale. " You are a very sensible 
 girl, Peggy," answered her mother, " for if you had spoken of that poor lady to any one 
 but me, it might have cost her her life. But now I will not be afraid of trusting you with 
 any secret, and I will show you where the poor lady lives." In fact she introduced her to 
 a concealed apartment opening by a sliding panel from the parlour, and showed her the 
 lady in the hiding-place, which she inhabited. It may be said, in passing, that there were 
 few Scottish houses belonging to families of rank which had not such contrivances, the 
 political incidents of the times often calling them into occupation. 
 
 The history of the lady of the closet was both melancholy and bloody, and though I have 
 seen various accounts of the story, I do not pretend to distinguish the right edition. She 
 was a young woman of extreme beauty, who had been married to an old man, a writer, 
 named Mac Ferlane. Her situation, and perhaps her manners, gave courage to some who 
 desired to be accounted her suitors. Among them was a young Englishman, named 
 Cayley^ who was a commissioner of Government upon the estates forfeited in the rebel- 
 lion of 1715. In 1716, Mr. Cayley visited this lady in her lodgings, when they quarrelled, 
 either on account of his having ofTered her some violence, or, as another account said, 
 because she reproached him with having boasted of former favours. It ended in her 
 seizing upon a pair of pistols, which lay loaded in a closet, her husband intending to take 
 them with him on a journey. The gallant commissioner approached with an air of drol- 
 lery, saying," What, madam, do you intend to perform a comedy? "—" You shall find it 
 a tragedy," answered the lady; and fired both pistols, by which Commissioner Cayley 
 fell dead. 
 
 She fled, and remained concealed for a certain time. Her claim of refuge in Swinton 
 House, I do not know— it arose probably from some of the indescribable genealogical 
 filaments which connect Scottish families. A very small cause would even at any time 
 have been a reason for interfering between an individual and the law. 
 
 Whatever were the circumstances of Mrs. Mac Ferlane's case, it is certain that shere- 
 iurned, and lived and died in Edinburgh, without being brought to trial. Indeed, consider- 
 ing the times, there was no great wonder; for, to one strong parly, the death of an English 
 commissioner was not a circumstance to require much apologj'. The Swintons,however, 
 could not be of that opinion, the family being of Presbyterian and Whig principles. 
 
 Note II., p. 75.— Trial and Execution of Christian. 
 
 The reader will find, in an Appendix to the Introduction, an account of this tragedy, as 
 related by one who may be said to favour the sufferer. It must be admitted, on the other 
 hand, that Captain Christian's trial and execution were conducted according to the laws 
 of the island. He was tried in all due form, by the Dempster, or chief judge, then named 
 Norris, the Keys of the island, and other constituted authorities, making what is called a 
 Tinwaid court. This word, yet retained in many parts of Scotland, signifies YallisJSegolii, 
 and is applied to those artificial mounds which were in ancient times assigned to the 
 meeting of the inhabitants for holding their Comiiia. It was pleaded that the articles of 
 accusation against Christian were found fully relevant, and as he refused to plead at the 
 bar, that he was, according to the Laws of Man, most justly sentenced to death. It was 
 also stated that full time was left for appeal to England, as he was apprehended about 
 the end of September, and not executed until the 2d January, i662. These defences were 
 made for the various officers of the Isle of Man called before the Privy Council, on 
 account of Christian's death, and supported with many quotations from the Laws of the 
 Island, and appear to have been received as a sufficient defence for their share in those 
 proceedings. 
 
 I am obliged to the present reverend Vicar of Malew, for a certified extract to the fol- 
 lowing eOect .—" Malew Burials, A. D. 1662. Mr. William Christian of Ronalds-wing, 
 late receiver, was shot to death at Hango Hill, the 2d January. He died most penitently 
 and courageously, made a good end, prayed earnestly, made an excellent speech, and the 
 next day was buried in the chancell of kirk Malew." 
 
 It is certain that the death of William Christian made a very deep impression upon 
 the minds of the islanders, and a Mr. Calcell or Colquit was much blamed on the occa- 
 sion. Two lesser incidents are worth preservation as occurring at his execution. The 
 place on which he stood was covered with white blankets, that his blood might not fall 
 
80 PEVEIUL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 on the ground ; and, secondly, the precaution proved unnecessary, for, the musket 
 wounds bleeding internally, there was no outward effusion of blood. 
 
 Many on the island deny Christian's guilt altogether, like his respectable descendant, 
 thepresent Dempster; but there are others, and those men of judgment and respecta- 
 bility, who are so far of a different opinion, that they only allow the execution to have 
 been wrong in so far as the culprit died by a military rather than a civil death. I wil- 
 lingly drop the veil over a transaction, which took place flagrantibus odiis at the con- 
 clusion of a civil war, when Revenge at least was awake if Justice slept. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 You shall have no worse prison than my chamber. 
 Nor jailer than myself. 
 
 The Captain. 
 
 The command which Lady Peveril laid on her domestics to arm 
 themselves, was so unlike the usual gentle acquiescence of her man- 
 ners, that Major Bridgenorlh was astonished. " How mean you, 
 madam?" said he; "I thought my self under a friendly roof." 
 
 ''And you are so. Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, 
 without departing from the natural calmness of her voice and man- 
 ner •, " but it is a roof which must not be violated by the outrage of 
 one friend against another." 
 
 " It is well, madam," said Bridgenorlh, turning to tlie door of 
 the apartment. '' The worthy Master Solsgrace has already fore- 
 told, that the time was returned when high houses and proud names 
 should be once more an excuse for the crimes of those who inhabit 
 the one and bear the other. I believed him not, but now see he is 
 wiser than I. Yet think not I will endure this tamely. The blood of 
 my brother — of the friend of my bosom — shall not long call from 
 the allar, ' How long, O Lord, how long !' If there is one spark of 
 justice left in this unhappy England, that proud woman and I shall 
 meet where she can have no partial friend to protect her." 
 
 So saying, he was about to leave the apartment, when Lady 
 Peveril said, " You depart not from this place, Master Bridgenorth, 
 unless you give me your word to renounce all purpose against the 
 noble Countess's liberty upon the present occasion." 
 
 " I would sooner," he answered, subscribe to my own dishonour, 
 madam, written down in express words, than to any such composi- 
 tion. If any man offers to interrupt me, his blood be on his head!" 
 As Major Bridgenorlh spoke, Whitaker threw open the door, and 
 showed that, with the alertness of an old soldier, who was not dis- 
 pleased at seeing things tend once more towards a stale of warfare, 
 he had got with him four stout fellows in the Knight of the Peak's 
 livery, well armed with swords and carabines, buff-coals, and pis- 
 tols at their girdles. 
 
 " J will see," said Major Bridgenorlh, " if any of these men be 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 81 
 
 SO desperate as lo slop me, a freeborn Englishman, and a magis- 
 trate, in ihe discharge of my duty." 
 
 So saying, he advanced upon Whilaker and his armed assistants, 
 with his hand on the hill of his sword. 
 
 ''Do not be so desperate, Master Bridgenorlh," exclaimed Lady 
 Peveril ; and added, in the same moment, " Lay hold upon, and 
 disarm him, Whitaker^ but do him no injury." 
 
 Her commands were obeyed. Bridgenorlh, though a man of 
 moral resolution, was not one of those who undertake lo cope in 
 person with odds of a description so formidable. He half drew his 
 sword, and offered such show of resistance as made it necessary lo 
 secure him by actual force ; but then yielded up his weapon, and 
 declared, that submitting to force which one man was unable lo 
 resist, he made those who commanded, and who employed it, res- 
 ponsible for assailing his liberty without a legal warrant. 
 
 "Never mind a warrant on a pinch, Master Bridgenorlh," said 
 old Whilaker ; ''sure enough you have often acted upon a worse 
 yourself. My lady's word is as good a warrant, sure, as Old Noll's 
 commission ; and you bore that many a day. Master Bridgenorlh, 
 and, moreover, you laid me in the stocks for drinking the King's 
 heallh, Master Bridgenorlh, and never cared a farthing about the 
 laws of England." 
 
 " Hold your saucy tongue, Whilaker," said the Lady Peveril ^, 
 "and do you. Master Bridgenorlh, not take it lo heart that you are 
 detained prisoner for a few hours, unlil the Countess of Derby can 
 have nothing lo fear from your pursuit. I could easily send an es- 
 cort with her that might bid defiance to any force you could muster 5 
 but I wish, Heaven knows, lo bury the remembrance of old civij 
 dissensions, not to awaken new. Once more, will you think belter 
 on it — assume your sword again, and forget whom you have now 
 seen alMartindale Castle?" 
 
 "Never," said Bridgenorlh. "The crime of this cruel woman 
 will be the last of human injuries which I can forget. The last 
 thought of earthly kind which will leave me, will be the desire that 
 justice shall be doije on her." 
 
 "If such be your sentiments," said Lady Peveril, "though 
 they are niore allied lo revenge than lo justice, I must provide for 
 my friend's safety, by pulling restraint upon your person. In this 
 room you will be supplied with every necessary of life, and every 
 convenience •, and a message shall relieve your domestics of the 
 anxiety which your absence from the Hall is not unlikely lo occa- 
 sion. When a few hours, at most two days, are over, I will myself 
 relieve you from confinement, and demand your pardon for now 
 acting as your obstinacy compels me to do." 
 The Major made no answer, but that he was in her hands, and 
 
 6 
 
82 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 must submit lo her pleasure •, and then turned sullenly to the win- 
 dow, as if desirous to be rid of their presence. 
 
 The Countess and the Lady Peverii left the apartment arm in arm; 
 and the lady issued forth her directions to Whitaker concerning the 
 mode in which she was desirous that Bridgenorth should be guarded 
 and treated during his temporary confinement 5 at Ihe same lime 
 explaining lo him, that the safety of the Countess of Derby required 
 that he should be closely watched. 
 
 In all proposals for the prisoner's security, such, as the regular 
 relief of guards, and the like, Whitaker joyfully acquiesced, and 
 undertook, body for body, that he should be detained in captivity 
 for the necessary period. But the old steward was not half so docile 
 when it came to be considered how the captive's bedding and table 
 should be supplied 5 and he thought Lady Peverii displayed a very 
 undue degree of attention to her prisoner's comforts. " I warrant," 
 he said, '' that the cuckoldy Roundhead ate enough of our fat beef 
 yesterday to serve him for a month ^ and a little fasting will do his 
 health good. Marry, for drink, he shall have plenty of cold water to 
 cool his hot liver, which I will be bound is still hissing with the 
 strong liquors of yesterday. And as for bedding, there are the fine 
 dry boards — more wholesome than the wet straw I lay upon when I 
 was in the stocks, I trow." 
 
 "Whitaker," said the lady, peremptorily, "I desire you lo provide 
 Master Bridgenorth's bedding and food in the way I have already 
 signified to you ; and to behave yourself towards him in all civility." 
 
 " Lack-a-day ! yes, my lady," said Whitaker ^ "you shall haY€ 
 all your directions punctually obeyed ; but, as an old servant, I 
 cannot but speak my mind." 
 
 The ladies retired after this conference with the steward in the 
 antechamber, and were soon sealed in another apartment, which 
 was peculiarly dedicated lo the use of Ihe mistress of the mansion 
 — having, on the one side, access to the family bed-room \ and, on 
 the other, to the still-room which communicated with Ihe garden. 
 There was also a small door which, ascending a few steps, led lo 
 that balcony, already mentioned, that overhung the kitchen; and 
 the same passage, by a separate door, admitted to the principal gal- 
 lery in the chapel ; so that the spiritual and temporal affairs of the 
 Castle were placed almost at once within reach of the same regu- 
 lating and directing eye'. 
 
 In the tapestried room, from which issued these various sally- 
 ports, the Countess and Lady Peverii were speedily seated ; and the 
 
 • This peculiar collocation of apartments may be seen at Haddon Hall, Derbyshire, 
 once a seal of the Vemons, where, in the lady's pew in the chapel, there is a sort of 
 scuttle, which opens into the kitchen, so that the good lady could ever and auon, without 
 much interruption of her religious duties, give an eye that the roast-meat was not per- 
 mitted to burn, and that the turn-brochc did his duty. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 83 
 
 former, smiling upon the latter, said, as she look her hand, '' Two 
 things have happened to-day which might have surprised me, if 
 any thing ought to surprise me in such limes 5 — the first is, that 
 yonder roundheaded fellow should have dared to use such inso- 
 lence in the house of Peveril of the Peak. If your husband is yet 
 the same honest and downright Cavalier whom I once knew, and 
 had chanced to be at home, he would have thrown the knave out of 
 window. But what I wonder at slill more, Margaret, is your gene- 
 ralship. I hardly thought you had courage sufficient to have taken 
 such decided measures, after keeping on terms with the man so 
 long. When he spoke of justices and warrants, you looked so over- 
 awed Ihat I thought I felt the clutch of the parish-beadles on my 
 shoulder, to drag me to prison as a vagrant." 
 
 " We owe Master Bridgenorlh some deference, my dearesl lady," 
 answered the Lady Peveril ♦, "he has served us often, and kindly, 
 in these late times 5 but neither he, nor any one else, shall insult 
 the Countess of Derby in the house of Margaret Stanley." 
 
 "Thou art become a perfect heroine, Margaret," replied Ihe 
 Countess. 
 
 "Two sieges, and alarms innumerable," said Lady Peveril, 
 " may have taught me presence of mind. My courage is, I believe, 
 as slender as ever." 
 
 "Presence of mind is courage," answered the Countess. " Real 
 valour consists not in being insensible to danger, but, in being 
 prompt to confront and disarm it \ — and we may have present oc- 
 casion for all that we possess," she added, with some slight emotion, 
 " for I hear the trampling of horses' steps on the pavement of the 
 court." 
 
 In one moment, the boy Julian, breathless with joy, came Hying 
 into the room, to say that papa was returned, with Laminglon and 
 Sam Brewer ^ and Ihal he was himself to ride Black Hastings to the 
 stable. In the second, Ihe tramp of the honest Knight's heavy jack- 
 boots was heard, as, in his haste to see his lady,' he ascended the 
 staircase by two steps at a time. He burst into the room, his manly 
 countenance and disordered dress showing marks that he had been 
 riding fast-, and without looking to any one else, caught his good 
 lady in his arms, and kissed her a dozen of times — Blushing, and 
 with fome difficulty. Lady Peveril extricated herself from Sir Geof- 
 frey's arms ; and in a voice of bashful and gentle rebuke, bid him, 
 for shame, observe who was in the room. 
 
 " One," said the Countess, advancing to him, " who is right glad 
 to see that Sir Geoffrey Peveril, though turned courtier and favou- 
 rite, still values the treasure which she had some share in bestowing 
 upon him. You cannot have forgot the raising of the leaguer of 
 Latham-House I" 
 
 " The noble Countess of Derby!" said Sir Geoffrey, doffing his 
 
84 PEVRRIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 plumed hat wilh an air of deep deference, and kissing with much 
 reverence the hand which she held out to him 5 " I am as glad to 
 see your ladyship in my poor house, as I would be to hear Ihat they 
 had found a vein of lead in the Brown Tor. I rode hard, in the hope 
 of being your escort through the country. I feared you might have 
 fallen into bad hands, hearing there was a knave sent out wilh a 
 warrant from the Council." 
 
 " When heard you so? and from whom ?" 
 
 " It was from Cholmondley of Yale-Royal," said Sir Geofifrey 5 
 *' he is come down to make provision for your safely through Che- 
 shire j and I promised to bring you there in safely. Prince Rupert, 
 Ormond, and other friends, do not doubt the mailer will be driven 
 to a fine ; but they say the Chancellor, and Harry Bennel, and some 
 others of the over-sea counsellors, are furious at what they call a 
 breach of the King's proclamation. Hang them, say I ! — They left 
 us lo bear all Ihe beating ; and now they are incensed that we should 
 wish to clear scores with those who rode us like nightmares !" 
 
 *' Whaldid lliey talk of for my chaslisement?" said the Countess. 
 
 " I wot nol," said Sir Geoffrey ; " some friends, as I said, from 
 our kind Cheshire, and others, tried lo bring il lo a fine 5 but some, 
 again, spoke of nothing bul the Tower, and a long imprisonment." 
 
 " I have suffered imprisonment long enough for King Charles's 
 sake," said the Countess ; " and have no mind lo undergo il at his 
 hand. Besides, if I am removed from the personal superintendence 
 of my son's dominions in Man, I know not what new usurpation may 
 be attempted there. I must be obliged to you, cousin, to contrive 
 that I may gel in security to Vale-Royal, and from thence I know 
 I shall be guarded safely to Liverpool." 
 
 " You may rely on my guidance and protection, noble lady," 
 answered her host, '' Though you had come here at midnight, and 
 wilh the rogue's head in your apron, like Judith in the Holy Apo- 
 crypha, which I joy to hear once more read in churches." 
 
 " Do the gentry resort much lo the Court?" said the lady. 
 
 "Ay, madam," replied Sir Geoffrey 5 "and according to our 
 saying, when miners do begin lo bore in these parts, it \sfor.the 
 Grace of God, and what they there may find," 
 
 " Meet the old Cavaliers wilh much countenance?" continued 
 the Counless. 
 
 "Faith, madam, to speak truth," replied the Knight, "the 
 King halh so gracious a manner, Ihat it makes every man's hopes 
 blossom, though we have seen but few that have ripened into fruit." 
 
 " You have not, yourself, my cousin," answered the Countess, 
 ^' had room to complain of ingratitude, I trust? Few have less de- 
 served it at the King's hand." 
 
 Sir Geoffrey was unwilling, like most prudent persons, to own 
 the existence of expeetalions which had proved fallacious, yet had 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ^5 
 
 too liltle arl In his character lo conceal his disappoinlment entirely. 
 " Who ? I, madam ?" he said ; " Alas I what should a poor country 
 knight expect from the King, besides the pleasure of seeing him 
 in Whitehall once more, and enjoying his own again? And his 
 Majesty was very gracious when I was presented, and spoke lo me 
 of Worcester and of my horse, Black Hastings — he had forgot his 
 name, though — faith, and mine too, I believe, had not Prince 
 Rupert whispered it to him. And I saw some old friends, such as 
 his Grace of Ormond, Sir Marmaduke Langdale, Sir Philip Mus- 
 grave, and so forth 5 and a jolly rouse or two, to the (une of old 
 limes." 
 
 " I should have thought so many wounds received— so many 
 dangers risked — such considerable losses — merited something more 
 than a few smooth words," said the Countess. 
 
 "Nay, my lady, there were other friends of mine who had Ihe 
 same thought," answered Peveril. " Some were of opinion that the 
 loss of so many hundred acres of fair land was worth some reward 
 of honour at least ; and there were, who thought my descent from 
 William the Conqueror — craving your ladyship's pardon for boast- 
 ing it in your presence — would not have become a higher rank or 
 title worse than the pedigree of some who have been promoted. 
 But what said the witty Duke of Buckingham, forsooth ( whose 
 grandsire was a Lei'stershire Knight — rather poorer, and scarce so 
 wellborn as myself )?— Why, he said, that if all of my degree who 
 deserved well of the King in the late limes were to be made peers, 
 the House of Lords must meet upon Salisbury Plain I" 
 
 "And that bad jest passed for a good argument!" said the 
 Countess 5 " andvsvell it might, where good arguments pass forbad 
 jests. — But here comes one I must be acquainted with." 
 
 This was little Julian, who now re-entered the hall, leading his 
 little sister, as if he had brought her to bear witness to the boast- 
 ful tale which he told his father, of his having manfully ridden 
 Black Hastings to the stable-yard, alone in the saddle; and that 
 Saunders, though he walked by the horse's head, did not once put 
 his hand upon the rein, and Brewer, though he stood beside him. 
 scarce held him by the knee. The father kissed the boy heartily •, 
 and the Countess, calling him to her so soon as Sir Geoffrey had 
 set him down, kissed his forehead also, and then surveyed all his 
 features with a keen and penetrating eye. 
 
 " He is a true Peveril," said she," mixed as he should be with 
 some touch of the Stanley. Cousin, you must grant me my boon, 
 and when I am safely established, and have my present affair ar- 
 ranged, you must lei me have this liltle Julian of yours some lime 
 hence, to be nurtured in my house, held as my page, and the 
 playfellow of the liltle Derby. I trust in Heaven, they will be such 
 
S6 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 friends as their fathers have been, and may God send them more 
 fortunate times ' I " 
 
 "Marry, and I thank you for the proposal with all my heart, 
 madam," said the Knight. " There are so many noble houses de- 
 cayed, and so many more in which the exercise and discipline for 
 the training of noble youths is given up and neglected, that I have 
 often feared I must have kept Gil to be young master at home ^ and 
 I have had too little nurture myself to teach him much, and so he 
 would have been a mere hunting hawking knight of Derbyshire. 
 But in your ladyship^s household, and with the noble young Earl, 
 ho will have all, and more than all, the education which I could 
 desire." 
 
 '' There shall be no distinction betwixt them, cousin," said the 
 Countess; "Margaret Stanley's son shall be as much the object 
 of care to me as my own, since you are kindly disposed to intrust 
 him to my charge. — you look pale, Margaret," she continued, 
 "and the tear stands in your eye? Do not be so foolish, my love 
 — what I ask is better than you can desire for your boy ; for the 
 house of my father, the Duke de la Tremouille, was the most fa- 
 mous school of chivalry in France ; nor have I degenerated from 
 him, or suffered any relaxation in that noble discipline which 
 trained young gentlemen to do honour to their race. You can pro- 
 mise your Julian no such advantages, if you train him up a mere 
 home-bred youth." 
 
 "I acknowledge the importance of the favour, madam," said Lady 
 Peveril, " and must acquiesce in what your ladyship honours us by 
 proposing, and Sir Geoffrey approves of : but Julian is an only 
 child, and" ^ 
 
 " An only son," said the Countess, " but surely not an only 
 child. You pay too high deference to our masters, the niale sex, if 
 you allow Julian to engross all your affection, and spare none for 
 this beautiful girl." 
 
 So saying, she set down Julian, and, taking Alice Bridgenorth on 
 her lap, began to caress her ; and there was, notwithstanding her 
 masculine character, something so sweet in the tone of her voice 
 and in the cast of her features, that the child immediately smiled 
 and replied to her marks of fondness. This mistake embarrassed 
 Lady Peveril exceedingly. Knowing the blunt impetuosity of her 
 husband's character, his devotion to the memory of the deceased 
 
 ' Even down to a later period than that in which the tale is laid, the ladies of distinction 
 had for their pages young gentlemen of distinguished rank, whose education proceeded 
 within the family of their patroness. Anne, Duchess of Bucoleuch and Monmouth, who 
 in several respects laid claim to the honour due to royal blood, was, I believe, the last 
 person of rank who kept up this old custom. A general officer distinguished in the Ame- 
 rican war was bred up as a page in her family. At present the youths whom we some- 
 times see in the capacity of pages of great ladies, are, I believe, mere lackeys. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 87 
 
 Earl of Derby, and his corresponding veneration for his widow, 
 she was alarmed for the consequences of his hearing the conduct of 
 Bridgenorlh that morning, and was particularly desirous that he 
 should not learn it save from herself in private, and after due pre- 
 paration. But the Countess's error led to a more precipitate dis- 
 closure. 
 
 *'That pretty girl, madam," answered Sir Geoffrey, 'Ms none 
 of ours — I wish she were. She belongs to a neighbour hard by — 
 a good man, and, to say truth, a good neighbour — though he 
 was carried off from his allegiance in the late times by a d— d Pres- 
 byterian scoundrel, who calls himself a parson, and whom I hope 
 to fetch down from his perch presently, with a wannion to him I 
 He has been cock of the roost long enough. There are rods in 
 pickle to switch the Geneva clock with, I can tell the sour-faced 
 rogues that much. But this child is the daughter of Bridgenorth — 
 neighbour Bridgenorth, of Moultrassie-Hall." 
 
 " Bridgenorth?" said the Countess^ " I thought I had known 
 all the honourable names in Derbyshire — I remember nothing of 
 Bridgenorth. — But stay — was there not a sequestrator and com- 
 mittee-man of that name? Sure, it cannot be he?" 
 
 Peveril took some shame to himself as he replied, "It is the 
 very man whom your ladyship means, and you may conceive the 
 reluctance with which 1 submitted to receive good offices from one 
 of his kidney 5 but had I not done so, I should have scarce known 
 how to find a roof to cover Dame Margaret's head." 
 
 The Countess, as he spoke, raised the child gently from her lap, 
 and placed it upon the carpet, though little Alice showed a dis- 
 inclination to the change of place, which the Lady of Derby and 
 Man would certainly have indulged in a child of patrician descent 
 and loyal parentage, 
 
 "■ I blame you not," she said ; " naone knows what temptation 
 will bring us down to. Yet I did think Peveril of the Peak would 
 have resided in its deepest cavern, sooner than owed an obligation 
 to a regicide." 
 
 "Nay, madam," answered the Knight, "my neighbour is bad 
 enough, but not so bad as you would make him ; he is but a Pres^ 
 byterian--that I must confess — but not an Independent." 
 
 " A variety of the same monster," said the Countess, " wha hal- 
 looed while the others hunted, and bound the victim whom the 
 Independents massacred. Betwixt such sects I prefer the Indepen- 
 dents. They are at least bold, barefaced, merciless villains, have 
 more of the tiger in them, and less of the crocodile. I have no 
 doubt it was that worthy gentleman who took it upon him this 
 morning" 
 
 She stopped short, for she saw Lady Peveril was vexed and em- 
 barrassed. 
 
Si PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 "I am," she said, "the most luckless of beings. I have said 
 something, I know not what, to distress you, Margaret — Mystery 
 is a bad thing, and betwixt us there should be none." 
 
 ''There is none, madam," said Lady Peveril, something im- 
 patiently; " I wailed but an opportunity to tell my husband what 
 had happened — Sir Geoffrey, Master Bridgenorth was unfortunately 
 here when the Lady Derby and I met ; and he thought it part of his 
 duty to speak of"- 
 
 "Tospeakof what?" said the Knight, bending his brows. "You 
 were ever something too fond, dame, of giving way to the usurpa- 
 tion of such people." 
 
 "I only mean," said Lady Peveril, " that as the person — he to 
 whom Lady Derby's story related — was the brother of his late lady, 
 he threatened — but I cannot think that he was serious." 
 
 " Threaten ? — threaten the Lady of Derby and Man in my house I 
 *— the widow of my friend — the noble Charlotte of Latham-House I 
 •^by Heaven, the prick-eared slave shall answer it! How comes it 
 that my knaves threw him not out of the window?" 
 
 "Alas! Sir Geoffrey, you forget how much we owe him," said 
 the lady. 
 
 "Owe him!" said the Knight, still more indignant-, for in his 
 singleness of apprehension he conceived that his wife alluded to 
 pecuniary obligations, — "if I do owe him some money, hath he 
 not security for it? and must he have the right, over and above, to 
 domineer and play the magistrate in Martindale Castle?— Where is 
 he?— what have you made of him? I will — I must speak with him." 
 
 "Be patient, Sir Geoffrey," said the Countess, who now dis- 
 cerned the cause of her kinswoman's apprehension ; "and be assured 
 I did not need your chivalry to defend me against this discourteous 
 faitour, as Morte d'Arthur would have called him. I promise you 
 my kinswoman hath fully righted my wrong ; and I am so pleased 
 to owe my deliverance entirely to her gallantry, that I charge and 
 command you, as a true knight, not to mingle in the adventure of 
 another." 
 
 Lady Peveril, who knew her husband's blunt and impatient tem- 
 per, and perceived that he was becoming angry, now took up the 
 story, and plainly and simply pointed out the cause of Master 
 Bridgenorth's interference. 
 
 " I am sorry for it," said the Knight ; "I thought he had more 
 sense ^ and that this happy change might have done some good 
 upon him. But you should have told me this instantly — It consists 
 not with my honour that he should be kept prisoner in this house, 
 as if I feared any thing he could do to annoy the noble Countess, 
 while she is under my roof, or within twenty miles of this Castle." 
 
 So saying, and bowing to the Countess, he went straight to the 
 gilded chamber, leaving Lady Peveril in great anxiety for the event 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 99 
 
 of an angry meeting between a temper hasty as that of her husband, 
 and stubborn like that of Bridgenorth. Her apprehensions were, 
 however, unnecessary 5 for the meeting was not fated to lake place. 
 
 When Sir Geoffrey Peveril, having dismissed Whitaker and his 
 sentinels, entered the gilded chamber, in which he expected to 
 find his captive, the prisoner had escaped, and it was easy to sec 
 in what manner. The sliding panel had, in the hurry of the mo- 
 ment, escaped the memory of Lady Peveril, and of Whitaker, tlW 
 only persons who knew any thing of it. It was probable that a 
 chink had remained open, sufficient to indicate its existence lo 
 Bridgenorth; who, withdrawing it altogether, had found his way 
 into the secret apartment with which it communicated, and from 
 thence to the postern of the Castle by another secret passage, which 
 had been formed in the thickness of the wall, as is not uncommon 
 in ancient mansions 5 the lords of which were liable to so many 
 mutations of fortune, that they usually contrived to secure some 
 lurking-place and secret mode of retreat from their fortresses. That 
 Bridgenorth had discovered and availed himself of this secret mode 
 of retreat was evident; because the private doors communicating; 
 with the postern and the sliding panel in the gilded chamber, were 
 both left open. 
 
 Sir Geoffrey returned to the ladies with looks of perplexity. 
 While he deemed Bridgenorth within his reach, he was apprehen- 
 sive of nothing he could do ; for he felt himself his superior in per- 
 sonal strength, and in that species of courage which induces a man 
 to rush, without hesitation, upon personal danger. But when at a 
 distance, he had been for many years accustomed to consider Bridge- 
 north's power and influence as something formidable, and, notwith- 
 standing the late change of affairs, his ideas so naturally reverted 
 to his neighbour as a powerful friend or dangerous enemy, that he 
 felt more apprehension on the Countess's score, than he was willing 
 to acknowledge even to himself. The Countess observed his down- 
 cast and anxious brow, and requested to know if her stay there was 
 likely to involve him in any trouble, or in any danger. 
 
 *' The trouble should be welcome," said Sir Geoffrey, ■•' and more 
 welcome the danger, which should come on such an account. My 
 plan was, that your ladyship should have honoured Martindale with 
 a few days' residence, which might have been kept private until 
 the search after you was ended. Had I seen this fellow Bridgenorth ^ 
 I have no doubt I could have compelled him to act discreetly ; but 
 he is now at liberty, and will keep out of my reach ; and, what is 
 worse, he has the secret of the priest's chamber." 
 
 Here the Knight paused, and seemed much embarrassed. 
 
 "You can, then, neither conceal nor protect me?" said the 
 Countess. 
 
 "Pardon, my honoured lady," answered the Knight, "and let 
 
90 PEVERIL or THE PEAK. 
 
 me say out my say. The plain truth is, that this man hath many 
 friends among the Presbyterians here, who are more numerous than 
 I would wish them ; and if he falls in with the pursuivant fellow 
 who carries the warrant of the Privy Council, it is likely he will 
 back him with force sufficient to try to execute it. And I doubt 
 whether any of our own friends can be summoned together in haste, 
 sufficient to resist such a power as they are like to bring together." 
 
 "Nor would I wish any friends to take arms, in my name, 
 against the King's warrant, Sir Geoffrey," said the Countess. 
 
 *'Nay, for that matter," replied the Knight, "an his Majesty 
 will grant warrants against his best friends, he must look to have 
 them resisted. But the best I can think of in this emergence is — 
 though the proposal be something inhospitable— that your ladyship 
 should lake presently to horse, if your fatigue will permit. I will 
 mount also, with some brisk fellows, who will lodge you safe at 
 Tale-Royal, though the Sheriff stopped the way with a whole posse 
 comitatus.'^ 
 
 The Countess of Derby willingly acquiesced in this proposal. She 
 had enjoyed a night's sound repose in the private chamber, to 
 which EUesmere had guided her on the preceding evening, and was 
 quite ready to resume her route, or flight — ''she scarce knew," she 
 said, "which of the two she should term it." 
 
 Lady Peveril wept at the necessity which seemed to hurry her 
 earliest friend and protectress from under her roof, at the instant 
 when the clouds of adversity were gathering around her ^ but she 
 saw no allernalive equally safe. Nay, however strong her attach- 
 ment to Lady Derby, she could not but be more readily reconciled 
 to her hasty departure, when she considered the inconvenience, 
 and even danger, in which her presence, at such a time, and in 
 such circumstances, was likely to involve a man so bold and hot- 
 tempered as her husband Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 While Lady Peveril, therefore, made every arrangement which 
 lime permitted and circumstances required, for the Countess pro- 
 secuting her journey, her husband, whose spirits always rose with 
 the prospect of action, issued his orders to Whitaker to get together 
 a few stout fellows, with back and breast-pieces, and sleel-caps. 
 
 " There are the two lackeys, and Outram and Saunders, besides 
 the other groom fellow, and Roger Raine, and his son 5 but bid 
 Roger not come drunk again ^—thyself, young Dick of the Dale 
 and iiis servant, and a file or two of the tenants — we shall be 
 enough for any force they can make. All these arc fellows that will 
 strike hard, and ask no question why— their hands are ever readier 
 than their tongues, and their mouths are more made for drinking 
 than speaking." 
 
 Whitaker, apprised of the necessity of the case, asked if he should 
 not warn Sir Jasper Cranbournc. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 91 
 
 *' Not a word to him, as you live," said the Knighl ; '' this may 
 be an outlawry, as they call it, for what I know ^ and therefore I 
 will bring no lands or tenements into peril, saving mine own. Sir 
 Jasper hath had a troublesome time of it for many a year. By my 
 will, he shall sit quiet for the rest of s days. ' 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Fang. A rescue; arescuei 
 Mrs. Quickly. Good people, bring a rescue or two. 
 Henry IV.^ Part 1. 
 
 The followers of Peveril were so well accustomed to the sound 
 of " Boot and Saddle," that they were soon mounted and in order; 
 and in all the form, and with some of the dignity of danger, pro- 
 ceeded to escort the Countess of Derby through the hilly and desert 
 tract of country which connects the frontier of the shire with the 
 neighbouring county of Cheshire. The cavalcade moved with con- 
 siderable precaution, which they had been taught by the discipline 
 of the Civil Wars. One wary and well-mounted trooper rode about 
 two hundred yards in advance ^ followed, at about half that distance, 
 by two more, with their carabines advanced, as if ready for action. 
 About one hundred yards behind the advance, came the main body ; 
 where the Countess of Derby, mounted on Lady Peveril's ambling 
 palfrey (for her own had been exhausted by the journey from 
 London to Marlindale Castle), accompanied by one groom, of ap- 
 proved fidehty, and one waiting-maid, was attended and guarded 
 by the Knight of the Peak, and three files of good and practised 
 horsemen. In the rear came Whitaker, with Lance Oulram, as men 
 of especial trust, to whom the covering the retreat was confided. 
 They rode, as the Spanish proverb expresses it, "with the beard 
 on the shoulder," looking around, that is, from time to time, and 
 using every precaution to have the speediest knowledge of any 
 pursuit which might take place. 
 
 But, however wise in discipline, Peveril and his followers were 
 somewhat remiss in civil policy. The Knight had communicated 
 to Whitaker, though without any apparent necessity, the precise 
 nature of their present expedition ^ and Whitaker was equally com- 
 municative to his comrade Lance, the keeper. "It is strange enough. 
 Master Whitaker," said the latter, when he had heard the case, 
 "and I wish you, being a wise man, would expound it; — why, 
 when we have been wishing for the King— and praying for the King 
 — and fighting for the King, — and dying for the King, for these 
 twenty years, the first thing we find to do on his return, is to get 
 into harness to resist his warrant I " 
 
92 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 '' Pooh ! you silly fellow," said Whilaker, " Ihal is all you know 
 of the true bottom of our quarrel ! Why, man, we fought for the 
 King's person against his warrant, all along from the very beginning ^ 
 for I remember the rogues' proclamations, and so forth always ran 
 in the name of the King and Parliament." 
 
 ''Ay I was it even so? "replied Lance. ''Nay, then, if they begin 
 the old game so soon again, and send out warrants in the King's 
 name against his loyal subjects, well fare our stout Knight, say I, 
 who is ready to take them down in their stocking-soles. And if 
 Bridgenorth take the chase after us, I shall not be sorry to have a 
 knock at him for one." 
 
 " Why, the man, baling he is a pestilent Roundhead and Puri- 
 tan," said Whitaker, "is no bad neighbour. What has he done to 
 thee, man?" 
 
 " He has poached on the manor," answered the keeper. 
 
 "The devil he has I " replied Whitaker. " Thou must be jesting, 
 Lance. Bridgenorth is neither hunter nor hawker; he hath not so 
 much of honesty in him." 
 
 " Ay, but he runs after game you little think of, with his sour, 
 melancholy face, that would scare babes and curdle milk," answered 
 Lance. 
 
 " Thou canst not mean the wenches?" said Whilaker ; " why, 
 he hath been melancholy mad with moping for the death of his 
 wife. Thou knowest our lady took the child, for fear he should 
 strangle it for pulling him in mind of its mother, in some of his 
 tantrums. Under her favour, and among friends, there are many 
 poor Cavaliers' children, that care would be belter bestowed upon 
 -—But to thy lale." 
 
 " Why, thus it runs," said Lance. " I think you may have no- 
 ticed. Master Whilaker, that a certain Mistress Deborah halh ma- 
 nifested a certain favour for a certain person in a certain house- 
 hold." 
 
 "For thyself, to wit," answered Whitaker; "Lance Outram, thou 
 art the vainest coxcomb " 
 
 "Coxcomb?" said Lance ; " why, 'twas but last night Ihe whole 
 family saw her, as one would say, fling herself at my head." 
 
 " I would she had been a brick-bat, then, to have broken it, for 
 thy impertinence and conceit," said the steward. 
 
 "Well," but do but hearken. The next morning— that is, this 
 very blessed morning — I thought of going to lodge a buck in the 
 park, judging a bit of venison might be wanted in the larder, afler 
 yesterday's wassail; and, as I passed under the nursery-window, 
 I did bul just look up to see what madam governante was about; 
 and so I saw her, through the casement, whip on her hood and 
 scarf as soon as she had a glimpse of me. Immediately after I saw 
 the still-room door open, and made sure she was coming through 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 93 
 
 the garden, and so over the breach and down to the park ; and so, 
 thought I, ' Aha, Mistress Deb, if you are so ready to dance after 
 my pipe and tabor, I will give you a couranto before you shall come 
 up with me.' And so I went down Ivy-tod Dingle, where the copse 
 is langled, and the ground swampy, and round by Haxley-bottom, 
 thinking all Ihe while she was following, and laughing in my sleeve 
 at the round I was giving her." 
 
 ''You deserved to be ducked for it," said Whilaker,, "for a 
 weather-headed puppy •, but what is all this Jack-a-lantern story to 
 Bridgenorlh?" 
 
 " Why, it was all along of he, man," continued Lance, " that is, 
 of Bridgenorlh, that she did not follow me— Gad, I first walked slow, 
 and then stopped, and then turned back a little, and then began to 
 wonder what she had made of herself, and to think I had borne 
 myself something like a jackass In the matter." 
 
 " That I deny," said Whitaker, " never jackass but would have 
 borne him better — but go on." 
 
 " Why, turning my face towards the Castle, I went back as if I 
 had my nose bleeding, when just by the Copely thorn, which stands, 
 you know, a flight-shot from the postern-gale, 1 saw Madam Deb in 
 close conference with the enemy." 
 
 "What enemy?" said the steward. 
 
 " What enemy ! why, who but Bridgenorlh? They kept out of 
 sight, and among the copse 5 but, thought 1, it is hard if I cannot 
 stalk you, that have stalked so many bucks. If so, I had better 
 give my shafts to be pudding-pins. So I cast round the thickel, lo 
 watch their waters ; and, may^ I never bend crossbow again, if I did 
 not see him give her gold, and squeeze her by the hand! " 
 
 " And was that all you saw pass between them?" said the steward. 
 
 "Faith, and it was enough lo dismount me from my hobby," 
 said Lance. " What ! when I thought I had the prettiest girl in the 
 Castle dancing after my whistle, to find that she gave me the bag to 
 hold, and was smuggling in a corner with a rich old Puritan ! " 
 
 "Credit me. Lance, it is not as thou Ihinkest," said Whitaker, 
 "Bridgenorlh cares not for these amorous toys, and thou thinkest 
 of nothing else. But it is fitting our Knight should know that he 
 has met with Deborah in secret, and given her gold ; for never 
 Puritan gave gold yet, but it was earnest for some devil's work done, 
 or to be done." 
 
 " Nay, but," said Lance, " I would not be such a dog-bolt as to 
 go and betray the girl to our master. She hath a right to follow her 
 fancy, as the dame said who kissed her cow — only I do not much 
 approve her choice, that is all. He cannot be six years short of 
 fifty ; and a verjuice countenance, under the penthouse of a slouched 
 beaver, and bag of meagre dried bones, swaddled up in a black cloak, 
 is no such temptation, melhinks." 
 
94 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 '' I lell you onc€ more," said Whltaker, " you are mistaken ; 
 and Ihat there neither is, nor can be, any matter of love between 
 them, but only some intrigue, concerning, perhaps, this same noble 
 Countess of Derby. I tell thee, it behoves my master to know it, 
 and I will presently tell it to him." 
 
 So saying, and in spite of all the remonstrances which Lance 
 continued to make on behalf of Mistress Deborah, the steward rode 
 up to the main body of their little party, and mentioned to the 
 Knight and the Countess of Derby what he had just heard from the 
 keeper, adding at the same time his own suspicions, that Master 
 Bridgenorthof Moultrassie-Hall was desirous to keep up some system 
 of espial in the Castle of Martindale, either in order to secure his 
 menaced vengeance on the Countess of Derby, as authoress of his 
 brother-in-law's death, or for some unknown but probably sinister 
 purpose. 
 
 The Knight of the Peak was filled with high resentment at 
 Whitaker's communication. According to his prejudices, those of 
 the opposite faction were supposed to make up by wit and intrigue 
 what they wanted in open force ^ and he now hastily conceived that 
 his neighbour, whose prudence he always respected, and sometimes 
 even dreaded, was maintaining, for his private purposes, a clan- 
 destine correspondence with a member of his family. If this was 
 for the betrayal of his noble guest, it argued at once treachery and 
 presumption ^ or, viewing the whole as Lance had done, a criminal 
 intrigue with a woman so near the person of Lady Peveril, was in 
 itself, he deemed, a piece of sovereign impertinence and disrespect 
 on the part of such a person as Bridgenorlh, against whom Sir 
 Geoffrey's anger kindled accordingly. 
 
 Whitaker had scarce regained his post in the rear, when he again 
 quitted it, and galloped to the main body with more speed than 
 before, with the unpleasing tidings that they were pursued by half a 
 score of horsemen, and better. 
 
 '' Ride on briskly to Hartley-nick," said the Knight, " and there, 
 with God to help, we will bide the knaves.— Countess of Derby — 
 one word and a short one — Farewell I — you must ride forward with 
 Whitaker and another careful fellow, and let me alone to see that no 
 one treads on your skirts." 
 
 "I will abide with you and stand them," said the Countess; 
 " you know of old, I fear not to look on man's work." 
 
 '' You must ride on, madam," said the Knight, " for the sake of 
 the young Earl, and the rest of my noble friend's family. There is 
 no manly work which can be worth your looking upon ; it is but 
 child's play that these fellows bring with them." 
 
 As she yielded a reluctant consent to continue her flight, they 
 reached the bottom of Hartley-nick, a pass very steep and craggy, 
 and where the road, or rather path, which had hitherto passed 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 95 
 
 o?er more open ground, became pent up and confined, betwixt 
 copsewood on the one side, and, on the other, the precipitous bank 
 of a mountain-stream. 
 
 The Countess of Derby, after an afTectionale adieu to Sir Geof- 
 frey, and having requested him to convey her kind commendations 
 to her little page-elect and his mother, proceeded up the pass at a 
 round pace, and, with her attendants and escort, was soon out of 
 sight. Immediately after she had disappeared, the pursuers came 
 up with Sir Geoffrey Peveril, who had divided and drawn up his 
 party so as completely to occupy the road at three different points. 
 
 The opposite party was led, as Sir Geoffrey had expected, by 
 Major Bridgenorlh. At his side was a person in black, with a silver 
 greyhound on his arm ; and he was followed by about eight or ten 
 inhabitants of the village of Martindale-Moultrassie, two or three of 
 whom were officers of the peace, and otiiers were personally known 
 to Sir Geoffrey as favourers of the subverted government. 
 
 As the party rode briskly up, Sir Geoffrey called to them to hall ^ 
 and as they continued advancing, he ordered his own people to 
 present their pistols and carabines ; and after assuming that me- 
 nacing attitude, he repeated, with a voice of thunder, '* Halt, or 
 we fire!" 
 
 The other party halted accordingly, and Major Bridgenorlh ad- 
 vanced, as if to parley. 
 
 "Why, how now, neighbour," said Sir Geoffrey, as if he had 
 at Ihat moment recognised him for the first lime, — "what makes 
 you ride so sharp this morning? Are you not afraid to harm your 
 horse, or spoil your spurs?" 
 
 "Sir Geoffrey," said the Major, " I have no time for jesting — I 
 am on the King's affairs." 
 
 " Are you sure it is not upon Old Noll's, neighbour! You used 
 to hold his the belter errand," said the Knight, with a smile which 
 gave occasion to a horse-laugh among his followers. 
 
 " Show him your warrant, "said Bridgenorlh to the man in black 
 formerly mentioned, who was a pursuivant. Then taking the war- 
 rant from the officer, he gave it to Sir Geoffrey — "To this, at least, 
 you will pay regard." 
 
 " The same regard which you would have paid to it a month 
 back or so," said the Knight, tearing the warrant to shreds. — 
 " What a plague do you stare at? Do you think you have a mo- 
 nopoly of rebellion, and that we have not a right to show a trick of 
 disobedience in our turn?" 
 
 " Make way, Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Bridgenorlh, " or you 
 will compel me to do that I may be sorry for. 1 am in this matter 
 the avenger of the blood of one of the Lord's saints, and I will 
 follow the chase while Heaven grants me an arm to make my way." 
 
 " You shall make no way here, but at your peril," said Sir 
 
96 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Geoffrey; *' this is my ground — I liave been harassed enough for 
 Ihesc twenty years by saints, as you call yourselves. I tell you, 
 master, you shall neither violate the security of my house, nor 
 pursue my friends over the grounds, nor tamper, as you have done, 
 amongst my servants, with impunity. I have had you in respect 
 for certain kind doings, which I will not either forget or deny, and 
 you will find it difficult to make me draw a sword or bend a pistol 
 against you ^ but offer any hostile movement, or presume to ad- 
 vance a foot, and I will make sure of you presently. And for these 
 rascals, who come hither to annoy a noble lady on my bounds, 
 unless you draw them off, I will presently send some of them to 
 the devil before their lime." 
 
 **Make room at your proper peril," said Major Bridgenorth; 
 and he put his right hand on his holster-pistol. Sir Geoffrey closed 
 with him instantly, seized him by the collar, and spurred Black 
 Hastiugs, checking him at the same time, so that the horse made 
 a courbelle, and brought the full weight of his chest against the 
 counter of the other. A ready soldier might, in Bridgenorth's 
 situation, have rid himself of his adversary with a bullet. But 
 Bridgenorth's courage, notwithstanding his having served some 
 time with the Parliament army, was rather of a civil than a mi- 
 litary character; and he was inferior to his adversary, not only in 
 strength and horsemanship, but also and especially in the daring 
 and decisive resolution which made Sir Geoffrey thrust himself 
 readily into personal contest. While, therefore, they tugged and 
 grappled together upon terms which bore such little accordance 
 with their long acquaintance and close neighbourhood, it was no 
 wonder that Bridgenorth should be unhorsed with much violence. 
 While Sir Geoffrey sprung from the saddle, the party of Bridge^ 
 north advanced to rescue their leader, and Ihat of the Knight to 
 oppose them. Swords were unsheathed, and pistols presented; but 
 Sir Geoffrey, with the voice of a herald, commanded both parlies 
 to stand back, and to keep the peace. 
 
 The pursuivant look the hint, and easily found a reason for not 
 prosecuting a dangerous duty. " The warrant," he said, '•' was 
 destroyed. They that did it must be answerable to the Council; for 
 bis part, he could proceed no farther without his commission." 
 
 ^^ Well said, and like a peaceable fellow I " said Sir Geoffrey.-^ 
 ^' Let him have refreshment at the Castle— his nag is sorely out 
 of condition. — Come, neighbour Bridgenorth, get up, man — I trust 
 you have had no hurt in this mad affray ? I was loalh to lay hand 
 on you, man, till you plucked out your pelronel." 
 
 As he spoke thus, he aided the Major to rise. The pursuivant, 
 meanwhile, drew aside; and with him the constable and head- 
 borough, who were not without some tacit suspicion, thai though 
 Peveril was interrupting Ihe direct course of law in this matter, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 97 
 
 yet he was iikely lo have his offence considered by favourable 
 judges; and therefore it might be as much for their interest and 
 safely to give way as to oppose him. But the rest of the parly, 
 friends of Bridgenorth, and of his principles, kept their ground 
 notwithstanding this defection, and seemed, from their looks, 
 sternly determined to rule (heir conduct by Ihal of Iheir leader, 
 whatever it might be. 
 
 But it was evident that Bridgenorlh did not intend to renew the 
 struggle. He shook himself rather roughly free from the hands of 
 Sir Geoffrey Peveril; but it was not to draw his sword. On the 
 contrary, he mounted his horse with a sullen and dejected air-, and, 
 making a sign to his followers, turned back the same road which he 
 had come. Sir Geoffrey looked after him for some minutes. '* Now, 
 there goes a man," said he, •• who would have been a right honest 
 fellow had he not been a Presbyterian. But there is no heartiness 
 about them — they can never forgive a fair fall upon the sod — they 
 bear malice, and thai I hale as I do a black cloak, or a Geneva skull- 
 cap, and a pair of long ears rising on each side on't, like two chimneys 
 at the gable ends of a thatched cottage. They are as sly as the devil 
 to boot ; and, therefore, Lance Oulram, take two with you, and keep 
 after them, thai they may not turn our flank, and gel on the track 
 of the Countess again after all." 
 
 " I had as soon they should course my lady's white tame doe," 
 answered Lance, in the spirit of his calling. He proceeded lo 
 execute his masler's orders by dogging Major Bridgenorth at a 
 distance, and observing his course from such heights as commanded 
 the country. But it was soon evident that no manoeuvre was in- 
 tended, and that the Major was taking the direct road homeward. 
 When this was ascertained. Sir Geoffrey dismissed most of his fol- 
 lowers 5 and, retaining only his own domeslics, rode hastily forward 
 to overtake the Countess. 
 
 It is only necessary to say farther, that he compleled his purpose 
 of escorting the Countess of Derby to Vale-Royal, without meeting 
 any farther hinderance by the way. The lord of the mansion readily 
 undertook to conduct the high-minded lady lo Liverpool, and 
 the task of seeing her safely embarked for her son's hereditary 
 dominions, where there was no doubt of her remaining in personal 
 safely until (he accusation against her for breach of the Royal 
 Indemnity, by (he execution of Christian, could be brought lo 
 some compromise. 
 
 For a length of time this was no easy mailer. Clarendon, then 
 at the head of Charles's administration, considered her rash action, 
 though dictated by motives which the human breast must, in some 
 respects, sympathise with, as calculated to shake the restored 
 tranquillity of England, by exciting the doubls and jealousies of 
 those who had to apprehend the consequences of what is called, in 
 
98 PF.VKHIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 our own days, a reaction. At the same time, the high services of 
 this distinguished family — the merits of the Countess herself — the 
 memory of her gallant husband — and the very peculiar circum- 
 stances of jurisdiction which took the case out of all common rules, 
 pleaded strongly in; her favour; and the death of Christian was at 
 length only punished by the imposition of a heavy fine, amounting, 
 we believe, to many thousand pounds-, which was levied with great 
 difficulty, out of tiic shattered estates of the young Earl of Derby. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 My native land, good night ! 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Lady Peveril remained in no small anxiety for several hours 
 after her husband and the Countess had departed from Marlindale 
 Castle; more especially wiien she learned that Major Bridgenorlh, 
 concerning whose motions she made private enquiry, had taken 
 horse with a party, and was gone to the westward in tlie same 
 direction with Sir GeofTrcy. 
 
 At length her immediate uneasiness in regard to the safely of her 
 husband and the Countess was removed, by the arrival of Whitaker, 
 with her husband's commendalions, and an account of the scuffle 
 betwixt himself and Major Bridgenorth. 
 
 Lady Peveril shuddered to see how nearly they had approached 
 to renewal of the scenes of civil discord; and while she was thank- 
 ful to Heaven for her husband's immediate preservation, she could 
 not help feeling both regret and apprehension for the consequences 
 of his quarrel with Major Bridgenorth. They had now lost an old 
 friend, who had showed himself such under those circumstances of 
 adversity by which friendship is most severely tried ; and she could 
 not disguise from herself, that Bridgenorth, thus irritated, might 
 be a troublesome, if not a dangerous enemy. His rights as a cre- 
 ditor, he had hitherto used with gentleness; but if he should em- 
 ploy rigour. Lady Peveril, whose attention to domestic economy 
 had made her much belter acquainted wilh her husband's affairs 
 than he was himself, foresaw considerable inconvenience from the 
 measures which the law put in his power. She comforted herself 
 with the recollection, however, that she had still a strong hold on 
 Bridgenorth, through his paternal affection, and from the fixed 
 opiniou which he had hitherto manifested, that his daughter's 
 health could only flourish while under her charge. But any ex- 
 pectations of reconciliation which Lady Peveril might probably 
 have founded on this circumstance, were frustrated by an incident 
 which look place in the course of Ihe following morning. 
 
PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. 99 
 
 The governante, Mistress Deborah, who has been already men- 
 tioned, went forth, as usual, with the children, to take their morn- 
 ing exercise in the Park, accompanied by Rachael, a girl who acted 
 occasionally ns her assistant in attending upon them. Bui not as 
 usual did she return. It was near the hour of breakfast, when 
 Ellesmere, with an unwonted degree of primness in her mouth and 
 manner, came to acquaint her lady that Mistress Deborah had not 
 thought proper to come back from the Park, though the breakfast 
 hour approached so near. 
 
 " She will come, then, presently," said Lady Peveril, with in- 
 difference. 
 
 Ellesmere gave a short and doubtful cough, and then proceeded 
 lo say, that Rachael had been sent home with litlle Master Julian, 
 and that Mistress Deborah had been pleased to say, she would walk 
 on with Miss Bridgenorlh as far as Moullrassie Holt •, which was a 
 point at which the property of the Major, as matters now stood, 
 bounded that of Sir Geoffrey Peveril. 
 
 "Is the wench turned silly," exclaimed the lady, something 
 angrily, "that she does not obey my orders, and return at regu- 
 lar hours?" 
 
 ''She may be turning silly," said Ellesmere, mysteriously, '' or 
 she may ie turning too sly \ ^nd I Ihink it were as well your lady- 
 ship looked to it." 
 
 " Looked to what, Ellesmere?" said the lady, impatiently. '' Yo^i 
 are strangely oracular this morning. If you know any thing lo the 
 prejudice of this young woman, I pray you speak it out." 
 
 "I prejudice!" said Ellesmere^ "I scorn to prejudice man, 
 woman, or child, in the way of a fellow-servanl^ only I wish your 
 ladyship lo look about you, and use your own eyes — that is all." 
 
 >' You bid me use my own eyes, Ellesmere; but I suspect," an- 
 swered the lady, " you would be better pleased were I contented lo 
 see through your spectacles. I charge you — and you know I will 
 be obeyed — I charge you to tell me what you know or suspect about 
 this girl, Deborah Debbitch." 
 
 "/see through spectacles!" exclaimed Ihe indignant Abigail; 
 "your ladyship will pardon me in that, for I never use them, un- 
 less a pair Ihat belonged lo my poor mother, which I put on when 
 your ladyship wants your pinners curiously wrought. No woman 
 above sixteen ever did while-seam without barnacles. And then as 
 lo suspecting, I suspect nothing; for as your ladyship liatli taken 
 Mistress Deborah Debbitch from under my hand, to be sure it is 
 neither bread nor butter of mine. Only," ( here she began to speak 
 with her lips shut, so as scarce to permit a sound to issue, and 
 mincing her words as if she pinched ofT the ends of them before 
 she suffered them to escape) — " only, madam, it Mistress Deborah 
 
100 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 i;oes SO often of a morning to Moullrassie Holt, why, I should not 
 be surprised if she should never find the way back again." 
 
 "Once more, what do you mean, Ellesmere? You were wont lo 
 have some sense — let me know distinctly what the matter is." 
 
 "Only, madam," pursued the Abigail, "that since Bridgenortli 
 came back from Chesterfield, and saw you at the Castle Hall, Mis- 
 tress Deborah has been pleased to carry the children every morn- 
 ing lo that place ^ and it has so happened that she has often met 
 the Major, as they call him, there in his walks ^ for he can walk 
 about now like other folks; and I warrant you she hath not been 
 the worse of the meeting — one way at least, for she hath bought a 
 new hood might serve yourself, madam ; but whether she hath had 
 any thing in hand besides a piece of money, no doubt your ladyship 
 is best judge." 
 
 Lady Peveril, who readily adopted the more good-natured con- 
 struction of the governante's motives, could not help laughing at 
 the idea of a man of Bridgenorth's precise appearance, strict prin- 
 ciples, and reserved habits, being suspected of a design of gal 
 lanlry; and readily concluded, that Mistress Deborah had found 
 her advantage in gratifying his parental affection by a frequent sight 
 of his daughter during the few days which intervened betwixt his 
 first seeing little Alice at the Castle, and the events which had fol- 
 lowed. But she was somewhat surprised, when, an hour after the 
 usual breakfast hour, during which neither the child nor Mistress 
 Deborah appeared, Major Bridgenorth's only man-servant arrived 
 at the Castle on horseback, dressed as for a journey; and having 
 delivered a letter addressed to herself, and another to Mistress El- 
 lesmere, rode away without wailing any answer. 
 
 There would have been nothing remarkable in this, had any 
 other person been concerned; but Major Bridgenorlh was so very 
 quiet and orderly in all his proceedings — so little liable to act hastily 
 or by impulse, that the least appearance of bustle where he was 
 concerned, excited surprise and curiosity. 
 
 Lady Peveril broke her letter hastily open, and found that it con- 
 tained the following lines : — 
 
 For die Hands of the Honourable and Honoured Lady 
 Peveril — These : 
 
 " Madam— Please it your Ladyship, 
 
 " I write more lo excuse myself to your ladyship, than lo accuse 
 cither you or others, in respect that I am sensible it becomes our 
 frail nature better to confess our own imperfections, than to com- 
 plain of those of others. Neither do I mean to speak of past times, 
 jjarlicularly in respect of your worthy ladyship, being sensible that 
 if f have served you in that period when our Israel might be called 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. . ; ; *0): 
 
 triumphant, you have more than requited me, in giving to my 
 arms a child, redeemed, as it were, from the vale of the shadow of 
 death. And therefore, as I heartily forgive to your ladyship the 
 unkind and violent measure which you dealt to me at our last meet- 
 ing (seeing that the woman who was the cause of strife is accounted 
 one of your kindred people;, I do entreat you, in like manner, to 
 pardon my enticing away from your service the young woman 
 called Deborah Debbitch, whose nurture, instructed as. she hath 
 been under your ladyship's direction, is, it may be, indispensable 
 to the health of my dearest child. I had purposed, madam, with 
 your gracious permission, that Alice should have remained at Mar- 
 tindale Castle under your kind charge, until she could so far dis- 
 cern betwixt good and evil, that it should be matter of conscience 
 to teach her the way in which she should go. For it is not unknown 
 to your ladyship, and in no way do I speak it reproachfully, but 
 rather sorrowfully, that a person, so excellently gifted as yourself 
 — I mean touching natural qualities — has not yet received that true 
 light, which is a lamp to the paths, but are contented to stumble 
 in darkness, and among the graves of dead fnen. It has been my 
 prayer in the watches of the night, that your ladyship should cease 
 from the doctrine which causeth to err^ but I grieve to say, that 
 our candlestick being about to be removed, the land will most likely 
 be involved in deeper darkness than ever^ and the return of the 
 King, to which I and many looked forward as a manifestation of 
 Divine favour, seems to prove little^ else than a permitted triumph 
 of the Prince of the Air, who seltelh about to restore his Vanity- 
 fair of bishops, deans, and such like, extruding the peaceful 
 ministers of the word, whose labours have proved faithful to many 
 hungry soufs. So, hearing from a sure hand, that commission has 
 gone forth to restore these dumb dogs, the followers of Laud and 
 of Williams, who were cast forth by the late Parliament, and that 
 an Act of Conformity, or rather of deformity, of worship, was to 
 be expected, it is my purpose to fly from the wrath to come, and 
 to seek some corner where I may dwell in peace, and enjoy liberty 
 of conscience. For who would abide in the Sanctuary, after the 
 carved work thereof is broken down, iind when it hath been made 
 a place for owls, and satyrs of the wilderness? — And herein I blame 
 myself, madam, that I went in the singleness of my heart too readily 
 into that carousing in the house of feasting, wherein my love of 
 union, and my desire to show respect to your ladyship, were made 
 a snare to me. But I trust it will be an atonement, that 1 am now 
 about to absent myself from the place of my birth, and the house of 
 my fathers, as well as from the place which holdeth the dust of 
 those pledges of my atiection. I have also to remember, that in this 
 land my honour (after the worldly estimation) hath been abated, and 
 my utility circumscribed, by your husband. Sir Geoffrey Peverilj 
 
t02 ; PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 and that without any chance of my obtaining reparation at his 
 hand, whereby I may say the hand of a kinsman was lifted uj) 
 against my credit and my life. These things are bilter.to the tas(e 
 of the old Adam; wherefore, to prevent farther bickerings, and, 
 it may be, bloodshed, it is belter that I leave this land for a lime. 
 The affairs which remain to be settled between Sir Geoffrey and my- 
 self, I shall place in the hand of the righteous Master Joachim Win- 
 thc-Fight, an attorney in Chester, who will arrange them witii such 
 attention to Sir Geoffrey's convenience, as justice, and the due 
 exercise of the law, will permit; for, as I trusl I shall have grace 
 to resist the temptation to make the weapons of carnal warfare the 
 instruments of my revenge, so I scorn to effect il^ through the 
 means of Mammon. Wishing, madam, that the Lord may grant 
 you every blessing, and^ in especial, that which is over all others, 
 namely, the true knowledge of his way, 
 
 " I remain, 
 
 '' Your devoted servant to command, 
 
 '* Ralph Bridgenorth. 
 
 •' ff^ritten at MouUrassie-Hall, this tenth day 
 of July, 1660." 
 
 So soon as Lady Peveril had perused this long and singular ho- 
 tnily, in which it seemed to her that her neighbour showed more 
 spirit of religious fanaticism than she could have supposed him pos- 
 sessed of, she looked up and beheld Eilesmere,— with a countenance 
 in which mortification, and an affeciedair of contempt, seemed lo 
 Struggle together, — who, tired with watching the expression of her 
 mistress's countenance, applied for confirmation of her suspicions 
 in plain terms. 
 
 "I suppose, madam," said the waiting-woman, *' the fanatic fool 
 intends to marry the wench? They say he goes lo shift the country. 
 Truly it's time, indeed; for, besides that the whole neighbour- 
 hood would laugh him to scorn, I should not be surprised if Lance 
 butram, the keeper, gave him a buck's head to bear; for that is all 
 in the way of his ofiice." 
 
 '^ There is no great occasion for your spile at present, Eiles- 
 mere," replied her lady. '' My letter says nothing of marriage ; but 
 it would appear that Master Bridgenorth, being to leave this coun- 
 try, has engaged Deborah to lake care of his child ; and I am sure 
 I am heartily glad of it, for the infant's sake." 
 
 "And I am glad of it for my own," said Eilesmere; "and in- 
 deed, for the sake of the whole house.— And your ladyship Ihinks 
 she is not like to be married lo him? Troth, J could never see how 
 he should be such an idiot; but perhaps she is going to do worse, 
 for she speaks hero of coming lo high preferment, and that scarce 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. IdS 
 
 comes by honest service now-a-days^ then she writes me abou^ 
 sending her things, as if I were mistress of the wardrobe to her 
 ladyship — ay, and recommends Master Julian to the care of my age 
 and experience, forsooth, as if she needed lo recommend the dear 
 little jewel to me ^ and then, lo speak of my age— But I will bundle 
 away her rags to the Hall, with a wilness!" 
 
 *'Doit with all civility," said the lady, "and let Whilakcr send 
 her the wages for which she has served, and a broad-piece over and 
 above; for, though a light-headed young woman, she was kind to 
 the children." 
 
 '' I know who is kind to their servants, madam, and would spoil 
 the best ever pinned a gown." 
 
 " I spoiled a good one, Ellesmerc, when I spoiled thee," said 
 the lady •, "but lell Mrs. Deborah lo kiss the lillle Alice for me, and 
 to offer my good wishes to Major Bridgenorth, for his temporal 
 and future happiness. ' 
 
 She permitted no observation or reply, but dismissed her atten- 
 dant, without entering into farther parliculars. 
 
 When Ellesmere had withdrawn, Lady Peveril began lo reflect, 
 with much feeling of compassion, on th(3 teller of Major Bridge- 
 north; a person in whom there certainly were many excellent quali- 
 ties, but whom a series of domeslic misfortunes, and Ihc increasing 
 gloom of a sincere, yet stern feeling of devotion, rendered lonely 
 and unhappy; and she had more that one anxious thought for the 
 happiness of Ihe lillle Alice, brought up, as siie was likely lo be, 
 under such a falher. Slill the removal of Bridgenorlh was, on the 
 whole, a desirable event; for while he remained at the Hall, it was 
 but too likely thai some accidental collision with Sir GeolTrey might 
 give rise to a rencontre betwixt them, more fatal than the last 
 had been. 
 
 In the. meanwhile, she could not help expressing to Doctor Dum- 
 merar her surprise and sorrow, that all which she had done and 
 altempled, to establish peace and unanimity betwixt the contending 
 factions, had been perversely fated to turn out the very reverse of 
 what' she had aimed at. 
 
 " But for my unhappy invitation," she said, " Bridgenorlh would 
 not have been at the Caslle on Ihe morning which succeeded the 
 feast, would not have seen the Countess, and would not have in- 
 curred the resentment and opposition of my husband. And but for 
 the King's return, an event which was so anxiously expected as the 
 terminalion of all our calamities, neither the noble lady nor our- 
 selves had been engaged in this new path of difficully and danger." 
 
 " Honoured madam," said Doctor Dummerar, " were the affairs 
 of this world to be guided implicitly by human wisdom, or were 
 they uniformly lo fall out according lo the conjectures of human 
 foresight, evpnts would no longer be under the domination of thai 
 
104 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK* 
 
 time and chance, which happen unlo all men, since we should, in 
 Ihe one case, work out our own purposes lo a certainty, by our 
 own skill, and, in the other, regulate our conduct according to views 
 of unerring prescience. But man is, while in this vale of tears, like 
 an uninslructed bowler, so to speak, who Ihinks lo attain the jack, 
 by delivering his bowl straight forward upon it, being ignorant that 
 there is a concealed bias within Ihe spheroid, which will make it, 
 in all probability, swerve away, and lose the cast." 
 
 Having spoken this with a sententious air, ihe Doctor took his 
 shovel-shaped hat, and went down to the Castle-green, to conclude 
 a match of bowls with Whitaker, which had probably suggested 
 this notable illustration of the uncertain course of human events. 
 Two days afterwards Sir Geoffrey arrived. He had waited at 
 Vale-Royal till he heard of the Countess's being safely embarked 
 for Man, and then had posted homeward to his castle and Dame 
 Margaret. On his way, he learned from some of his attendants, the 
 mode in which his lady had conducted the entertainment which she 
 had given to the neighbourhood at his order •, and notwithstanding 
 the great deference he usually showed in cases where Lady Peveril 
 was concerned, he heard of her liberality towards the Presbyterian 
 party with great indignation, 
 
 " I could have admitted Bridgenorth," he said, "for he always 
 bore him in neighbourly and kindly fashion till this last career — I 
 could have endured him, so he would have drunk the King's health, 
 like a true man — but to bring that snuffling scoundrel Solsgrace, 
 with all his beggarly, long-eared congregation, to hold a conven- 
 ticle in my father's house — to let them domineer it as they listed — 
 why, I would not have permitted them such liberty, when they 
 helci their head the highest I They never, in the worst of times, 
 found any way into Martindale Castle but what Noll's cannon 
 made for them •, and, that they should come and cant there, when 
 good King Charles is returned — By my hand, Dame Margaret shall 
 hear of it I " 
 
 But, notwithstanding these ireful resolutions, resentment alto- 
 gether subsided in the honest Knight's breast, when he saw the fair 
 features of his lady lightened with affectionate joy at his return in 
 safety. As he took her in his arms and kissed her, he forgave her 
 ere he mentioned her offence. 
 
 " Thou hast played the knave with me, Meg," he said, shaking 
 his head, and smiling at the same time, " and thou knowest in what 
 matter ^ but I think thou art true church woman, and didst only act 
 from some silly womanish fancy of keeping fair with these roguish 
 Roundheads. But let me have no more of this. I had rather Mar- 
 tindale Castle were again rent by their bullets, than receive any of 
 the knaves in the way of friendship — I always except Ralph Bridge- 
 north of the Hall, if he should come to his senses again." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 105 
 
 Lady Peveril was here under Ihe necessity of explaining what 
 she had heard of Master Bridgenorlh — the disappearance of the 
 governante with his daughter, and placed Bridgenorlh's letter in 
 his hand. Sir Geoffrey shook his head at first, and then laughed 
 extrennely, at the idea that there was some little love-intrigue be- 
 tween Bridgenorlh and Mistress Deborah. 
 
 " It is the true end of a dissenter," he said, '' lo uiarry his own 
 maid-servant, or some other person's. Deborah is a good likely 
 wench, and on the merrier side of thirty, as I should think." 
 
 ''Nay, nay," said the Lady Peveril, ''you are as uncharitable 
 as Ellesmere — I believe it but lo be affection to his child." 
 
 " Pshaw I pshaw I" answered Ihe Knight, "women are eternally 
 thinking of children 5 but among men, dame, many one caresses 
 the infant that he may kiss the child's-maid ; and where's the 
 wonder or the harm either, if Bridgenorlh should marry the 
 wench? Her falher is a substantial yeoman 5 his family has had the 
 same farm since Bosworth-field — as good a pedigree as that of the 
 great grandson of a Chesterfield brewer, I trow. But let us hear 
 what he says for himself— I shall spell it out if Iherc is any roguery 
 in the letter about love and liking, though it might escape your 
 innocence, Dame Margaret." 
 
 The Knight of the Peak began to peruse the letter accordingly, 
 but was much embarrassed by the peculiar language in which it 
 was couched. " What he means by moving of candlesticks, and 
 breaking down of carved work in Ihe church, I cannot guess ^ unless 
 he means to bring back the large silver candlesticks which my 
 grandsire gave lo be placed on (he allar al 3Iartindale-Moullrassie ; 
 and which his crop-eared friends, like sacrilegious villains as they 
 are, stole and melted down. And in like manner, the only break- 
 ing I know of, was when they pulled down the rails of the com- 
 munion-table (for which some of iheir fingers are hot enough by 
 this lime), and when the brass ornaments were lorn down from the 
 Peveril monuments • and that was breaking and removing wilh a 
 vengeance. However, dame, the upshot is that poor Bridgenorlh 
 is going to leave the neighbourhood. I am truly sorry for it, though 
 I never saw him oflener than once a-day, and never spoke to him 
 above two words. But I see how it is — that little shake by the 
 shoulder sticks in his stomach ; and yet, Meg, I did but lift him out 
 of the saddle as I might have lifted thee into il, Margaret — I was 
 careful not lo hurt him ^ and I did not think him so tender in point 
 of honour as to mind such a thing much. But I see plainly where 
 his sore lies ^ and I warranl you I will manage that he stays at the 
 Hall, and that you get back Julian's lillle companion. Failh, I am 
 sorry myself at the thought of losing the baby, and of having to 
 chose anolher ride when it is not hunting wealher, than round by 
 the Hall, wilh a word al ihe windf)w." 
 
106 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " T should be very glad, Sir Geoffrey," said Lady Peveril, '' thai 
 you could come to a reconciliation with this worthy man, for such 
 I must hold Master Bridgenorth to be." 
 
 ''But for his dissenting principles, as good a neighbour as ever 
 lived," said Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 "But I scarce see," continued the lady, "any possibility of 
 bringing about a conclusion so desirable." 
 
 " Tush, dame," answered the Knight, "thou knowest little of 
 such matters. I know the foot he halls upon, and you shall see him 
 go as sound as ever." 
 
 Lady Peveril had, from her sincere affeclion and sound sense, as 
 good a right to claim Ihe full confidence of her husband, as any 
 woman in Derbyshire,- and, upon this occasion, to confess the truths 
 ishe had more anxiety to know his purpose than her sense of their 
 muluat and separate duties permiUed her in general lo entertain. 
 She could not imagine what mode of reconciliation wilh his neigh- 
 bour. Sir Geoffrey (no very acute judge of mankind or their pecu- 
 liarities) could have devised, which might not be disclosed to her \ 
 and she felt some secret anxiety lest Ihe means resorted to might 
 be so ill chosen as to render the breach rather wider. But Sir Geof- 
 frey would give no opening for farther enquiry. He had been long 
 enough colonel of a regiment abroad, to value himself on the right 
 of absolute command at home ^ and to all the hints which his lady's 
 ingenuity could devise and throw out, he only answered, " Pa- 
 tience, Dame Margaret, patience. This is no case for thy handling. 
 Thou Shalt know enough onU by and by, dame, — Go, look to JuHan . 
 Will the boy never have done crying for lack of that litlle sprout of 
 a Roundhead? But we will have litlle Alice back with us in two or 
 three days, and all will be well again." 
 
 As the good Knight spoke these words, a post winded his horn 
 in the court, and a large packet was brought in, addressed to the 
 worshipful Sir Geoffrey Peveril, Justice of the Peace, and so forlh ^ 
 for he had been placed in authority so soon as the King's Restora- 
 tion was put upon a settled basis. Upon opening the packet, which 
 he did with no small feeling of importance, he found that it con- 
 tained the warrant which he had soHcited for replacing Doctor 
 Dummerar in the parish, from which he had been forcibly ejected 
 during the usurpation \ 
 
 Few incidents could have given more delight to Sir Geoffrey. He 
 could forgive a stout able-bodied sectary or nonconformist, who 
 
 ' The ejection of the Presbyteriaa clergy took place on Saint Bartholomew's day, 
 thence called Black Bartholomew. Two thousand Presbyterian pastors were on that day 
 displaced and silenced throughout England. The preachers indeed had only the alter- 
 native lo renounce their principles, or subscribe certain articles of uniformity. And to 
 their great honour, Galamy, Baxter, and Reynolds, refused bishoprics, and many other 
 Presbyterian ministers declined deaneries and other preferments, and suhmitled to dp- 
 privation iti preference. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 107 
 
 enforced his doctrines in Ihe field by downright blows on the casques 
 and cuirasses of himself and other Cavaliers. But he remembered, 
 with most vindictive accuracy, the triumphant entrance of Hugh 
 Peters through the breach of hisCaslle; and for his sake, without 
 nicely distinguishing betwixt seels or their teachers, he held all 
 whomounledapulpit without warrant from the Church of England 
 — perhaps he might also in private except that of Rome — to be 
 disturbers of the public tranquiflity — seducers of the congregation 
 from their lawful preachers — instigators of the late Civil War — and 
 men well disposed to risk the fate of a new one. 
 
 Then, on the other hand, besides gratifying his dislike to Sols- 
 grace, he saw much satisfaction in the task of replacing his old friend 
 and associate in sport and in danger, the worthy Doctor Dumme- 
 far, in his legitimate rights, and in the ease and comforts of his 
 \icarage. He communicated the contents of the packet, with great 
 triumph, to his lady, who now perceived the sense of the mys- 
 terious paragraph in Major Bridgenorth's letter, concerning the 
 removal of the candlestick, and the extinction of light and doctrine 
 in the land. She pointed this out to Sir Geoffrey, and endeavoured 
 to persuade him that a door was now opened to reconciliation w ilh 
 his neighbour, by executing the commission which he had received 
 in an easy and moderate manner, after due delay, and with all 
 respect to the feelings both of Solsgracc and his congregation, 
 which circumstances admitted of. This, the lady argued, would 
 be doing no injury whatever to Doctor Dummerar; — nay, might be 
 the means of reconciling many to his ministry, who might other- 
 wise be disgusted with it for ever, by (he premature expulsion of a 
 favourite preacher. 
 
 There was much wisdom, as well as moderation, in this advice; 
 and, at another lime, Sir Geoffrey would have had sense enough to 
 have adopted it. But who can act composedly or prudently in the 
 hour of triumph? The ejection of Mr. Solsgrace was so hastily 
 executed, as to give it some appearance of persecution •, though, 
 more justly considered, it was the restoring of his predecessor lo 
 his legal rights. Solsgrace himself seemed to be desirous to makd 
 his sufferings as manifest as possible. He held out lo the last ^ and 
 on the Sabbath after he had received intimation of his ejection^ 
 attempted lo make his way to the pulpit, as usual, supported by 
 Master Bridgenorth's attorney, Win-the-Fight, and a few zealous? 
 followers. 
 
 Just as this party came into the churchyard on the one side. 
 Dr. Dummerar, dressed in full pontificals, in a sort of triumphal 
 procession, accompanied by Peveril of the Peak, Sir Jasper Cran- 
 bourne, and other Cavaliers of distinction, entered at the other. 
 
 To prevent an actual struggle in the church, the parish-oflicers 
 were sent to prevent the farther approach of the Presbyterian mi- 
 
108 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ' 
 
 nisler; which was effected without farther damage (han a broken 
 head, inflicted by Roger Raine, the drunken innkeeper of the 
 Peverii Arms, upon the Presbyterian attorney of Chesterfield. 
 
 Unsubdued in spirit, though compelled to retreat by superior 
 force, the undaunted Mr. Solsgrace retired to the vicarage ^ where, 
 under some legal pretext which had been started by Mr. Win-the- 
 Fight (in that day unaptly named), he attempted to maintain him- 
 self — boiled gates — barred windows — and, as report said ( though 
 falsely), made provision of firearms to resist the officers. A scene 
 of clamour and scandal accordingly took place, which being re- 
 ported to Sir Geoffrey, he came in person, with some of his at- 
 tendants carrying arms — forced the outer-gate and inner-doors of 
 the house ^ and, proceeding to the study, found no other garrison 
 save the Presbyterian parson, with the attorney, who gave up pos- 
 session of the premises, after making protestation against the vio- 
 lence that had been used. 
 
 The rabble of the village being by this time all in motion, Sir 
 Geoffrey, both in prudence and in good-nature, saw the propriety 
 of escorting his prisoners, for so they mightbe termed, safely through 
 the tumult ^ and accordingly conveyed them in person, through much 
 noise and clamour, as far as the avenue of Moulirassie-Hall, which 
 they chose for the place of their retreat. 
 
 Rut the absence of Sir Geoffrey gave the rein to some disorders, 
 which, if present, he would assuredly have restrained. Some of the 
 minister's books were torn and flung about as treasonable and 
 seditious trash, by the zealous parish-officers or their assistants. 
 A quantity of his ale was drunk up in healths to the King, and 
 Peverii of the Peak. And finally, the boys, who bore the ex-parson 
 no good will for his tyrannical interference with their games at 
 skittles, foot-ball, and so forth, and, moreover, remembered the 
 unmerciful length of his sermons, dressed up an elfigy with his 
 Geneva gown and band, and his steeple-crowned hat, which they 
 paraded through the village, and burnt on the spot whilom occupied 
 by a stately Maypole, which Solsgrace had formerly hewed down 
 with his own reverend hands. 
 
 Sir Geoffrey was vexed at all this, and sent to Mr. Solsgrace, 
 offering satisfaction for the goods which he had lost 5 but the Cal- 
 vinistical divine replied, "From a thread to a shoe-latchet, I will 
 not take any thing that is thine. Let the shame of the work of thy 
 hands abide with thee." 
 
 Considerable scandal, indeed, arose against Sir Geoffrey Peverii, 
 as having proceeded with indecent severity and haste upon this 
 occasion ^ and rumour look care to make the usual additions to (he 
 reahty. It was currently reported, that the desperate Cavalier, 
 Peverii of the Peak, had fallen on a Presbyterian congregation, 
 while engaged in the peaceable exercise of religion, with a band of 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 109 
 
 armed men— had slain some, desperately wounded many more, and 
 finally pursued the preacher to his vicarage, which he burnt to the 
 ground. Some alleged the clergyman had perished in the flames ; 
 and the most mitigated report bore, that he had only been able to 
 escape, by disposing his gown, cap, and band, near a window, in 
 such a manner as to deceive them with the idea of his person being 
 still surrounded by flames, while he himself fled by the back part 
 of the house. And although few people believed in the extent of the 
 atrocities thus imputed to our honest Cavalier, yet still enough of 
 obloquy attached to him to infer very serious consequences, as the 
 reader will learn at a future period of our history. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Bessus. 'Tis a challenge, sir, is it not? 
 Gentleman. 'Tis an inviting to the field. 
 King and No King. 
 
 For a day or two after this forcible expulsion from the vicarage, 
 Mr. Solsgrace continued his residence at Moultrassie-Ha!I, where 
 the natural melancholy attendant on his situation added to the gloom 
 of the owner of the mansion. In the morning, the ejected divine 
 made excursions lo different families in the neighbourhood, to 
 whom his ministry had been acceptable in the days of his prosperity, 
 and from whose grateful recollecUons of that period he now found 
 sympathy and consolation. He did not require to be condoled with, 
 because he was deprived of an easy and competent maintenance, 
 and thrust out upon the common of life, after he had reason to 
 suppose he would be no longer liable to such mutations of fortune. 
 The piety of Mr. Solsgrace was sincere ; and if he had many of the 
 uncharitable prejudices against other sects, which polemical con- 
 troversy had generated, and the Civil War brought to a head, he 
 had also that deep sense of duty, by which enthusiasm is so often 
 dignified, and held his very life little, if called upon to lay it down 
 in attestation of the doctrines in which he believed. But he was 
 soon to prepare for leaving the district which Heaven, he conceived, 
 had assigned to him as his corner of the vineyard ^ he was to abandon 
 his flock to the wolf— was to forsake those with whom he had held 
 sweet counsel in religious communion' — was to leave the recently 
 converted to relapse into false doctrines, and forsake the wavering, 
 whom his continued cares might have directed into the right path 
 —these were of themselves deep causes of sorrow, and were aggra- 
 vated, doubtless, by those natural feelings with which all men, 
 especially those vyhose duties or habits have confined them to a 
 
no PEVJERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 limited circle, regard the separation from wonted scenes, and their 
 accustomed haunts of solitary musing, or social intercourse. 
 
 There was, indeed, a plan of placing Mr. Solsgrace at the head 
 of a nonconforming congregation in his present parish, which his 
 followers would have readily consented to endow with a sufficient 
 revenue. But although the act for universal conformity was not 
 yet passed, such a measure was understood to be impending, and 
 there existed a general opinion among the Presbyterians, that in no 
 hands was it likely to be more strictly enforced, than in those of 
 Peveril of the Peak. Solsgrace himself considered not only his per- 
 sonal danger as being considerable, — for, assuming perhaps more 
 consequence than was actually attached to him or his productions, 
 he conceived the honest Knight to be his mortal and determined 
 enemy, — but he also conceived that he should serve the cause of 
 his church by absenting himself from Derbyshire. 
 
 " Less known pastors," he said, " though perhaps more worthy 
 of the name, may be permitted to assemble the scattered flocks in 
 caverns or in secret wilds, and to them shall the gleaning of the 
 grapes of Ephraim be better than the vintage of Abiezer. But I, 
 that have so often carried the banner forth against the mighty— I, 
 whose tongue hath testified, morning and evening, like the watch- 
 man upon the tower, against Popery, Prelacy, and the tyrant of 
 the Peak — for me to abide here, were but to bring the sword of 
 bloody vengeance amongst you, that the shepherd might be smitten, 
 and the sheep scattered. The shedders of blood have already assailed 
 me, even within that ground which they themselves call consecrated ; 
 and yourselves have seen the scalp of the righteous broken, as he 
 defended my cause. Therefore, I will put on my sandals and gird 
 my loins, and depart to a far country, and there do as my duty shall 
 call upon me, whether it be to act or to suffer— to bear testimony 
 at the stake or in the pulpit." 
 
 Such were the sentiments which Mr. Solsgrace expressed to his 
 desponding friends, and which he expatiated upon at more length 
 ,with Major Bridgenorth \ not faihng, with friendly zeal, to rebuke 
 the haste which the latter had shown to thrust out the hand of fellow- 
 ship to the Amalekite woman, whereby he reminded him, " He had 
 been rendered her slave and bondsman for a season, like Samson, 
 betrayed by Delilah, and might have remained longer in the house 
 of Dagon, had not Heaven pointed to him a way out of the snare. 
 Also, it sprung originally from the Major's going up to feast in the 
 high place of Baal, that he who was the champion of the truth was 
 stricken down, and put to shame by the enemy, even in the pre- 
 sence of the host." 
 
 These objurgations seeming to give some offence to Major Bridge- 
 north, who liked, no belter ihan any other man, to hear of his own 
 mishaps, and at the same time (o have Ihem imputed lo his own 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Ill 
 
 misconduct, Ihe worthy divine proceeded to take shame to himself 
 for his own sinful compliance in that matter ; for to the vengeance 
 justly due for that unhappy dinner at Marlindale Caslle (which was, 
 he said, a crying of peace when there was no peace, and a dwelling 
 in the tents of sin), he imputed his ejection from his living, with 
 the destruction of some of his most pithy and highly prized volumes 
 of divinity, with the loss of his cap, gown, and band, and a double 
 hogshead of choice Derby ale. 
 
 The mind of Major Bridgenorth was strongly tinged with devo- 
 tional feeling, which his late misfortunes had rendered more deep 
 and solemn ; and it is therefore no wonder, that, when he heard 
 these arguments urged again and again, by a pastor whom he so 
 much respected, and who was now a confessor in the cause of their 
 joint faith, he began to look back with disapproval on his own 
 conduct, and to suspect that he had permitted himself to be seduced 
 by gratitude towards Lady Peveril, and by her special arguments in 
 favour of a mutual and tolerating liberality of sentiments, into an 
 action which had a tendency to compromise his rehgious and poli- 
 tical principles. 
 
 One morning, as Major Bridgenorth had wearied himself with 
 several details respecting the arrangement of his affairs, he was 
 reposing in the leathern easy-chair, beside the latticed window, a 
 posture which, by natural association, recalled to him the memory of 
 former times, and the feelings with which he was wont to expect the 
 recurring visit of Sir Geoffrey, who brought him news of his child's 
 welfare. — " Surely," he said, thinking, as it were, aloud, " there 
 was no sin in the kindness with which I then regarded that man." 
 
 Solsgracc, who was in the apartment, and guessed what passed 
 through his friend's mind, acquainted as he was with every point 
 of his history, replied—" When God caused Elijah to be fed by 
 ravens, while hiding at the brook Cherith, we hear not of his 
 fondling the unclean birds, whom, contrary to their ravening na- 
 ture, a miracle compelled to minister to him." 
 
 '' It may be so," answered Bridgenorth, " yet the flap of their 
 wings must have been gracious in the ear of the famished prophet, 
 like the tread of his horse in mine. The ravens, doubtless, resumed 
 their nature when the season was passed, and even so it has fared 
 with him. — Hark!" he exclaimed, starting, •' I hear his horse's 
 hoof-tramp even now." 
 
 It w as seldom that the echoes of that silent house and court-yard 
 were awakened by the trampling of horses, but such was now the 
 case. 
 
 Both Bridgenorth and Solsgrace were surprised at the sound, and 
 even disposed to anticipate some farther oppression on the part of 
 government, when the Major's old servant introduced, with Utile 
 ceremony (for his manners were nearly as plain as his master's), a 
 
112 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 tall genlleman, on the farther side of middle life, whose vest and 
 cloak, long hair, slouched hat, and drooping feather, announced 
 him as a Cavalier. He bowed formally, but courteously, to both 
 gentlemen, and said, that he was " Sir Jasper Cranbourne, charged 
 with an especial message to Master Ralph Bridgenorthof Moultrassie- 
 Hall, by his honourable friend Sir Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak, and 
 that he requested to know whether Master Bridgenorth would be 
 pleased to receive his acquittal of commission here or elsewhere." 
 
 " Any thing which Sir Geoffrey Peveril can have to say to me," 
 said Major Bridgenorth, "may be told instantly, and before my 
 friend, from whom I have no secrets." 
 
 '' The presence of any other friend were, instead of being ob- 
 jectionable, the thing in the world most to be desired," said Sir 
 Jasper, after a moment's hesitation, and looking at Mr. Solsgrace ; 
 "• but this gentleman seems to be a sort of clergyman." 
 
 "^ I am not conscious of any secrets," answered Bridgenorth, 
 '^ nor do I desire to have any, in which a clergyman is an unfitting 
 confidant." 
 
 " At your pleasure," rephed Sir Jasper. " The confidence, for 
 aught I know, may be well enough chosen, for your divines (al- 
 ways under your favour; have proved no enemies to such matters 
 as I am to treat with you upon." 
 
 "Proceed, sir," answered Mr. Bridgenorth, gravely ; " and I 
 pray you to be seated, unless it is rather your pleasure to stand." 
 
 " I must, in the first place, deliver myself of my small commis- 
 sion," answered Sir Jasper, drawing himself up •, " and it will be 
 after I have seen the reception thereof, that I shall know whether 
 I am, or am not, to sit down at Moullrassie-Hall.— Sir Geoffrey 
 Peveril, Master Bridgenorth, hath carefully considered with him- 
 self the unhappy circumstances which at present separate you as 
 neighbours. And he remembers many passages in former times — 1 
 speak his very words — which incline him lo do all that can possibly 
 consist with his honour, to wipe out unkindness between you 5 and 
 for this desirable object, he is willing to condescend in a degree, 
 which, as you could not have expected, il will no doubt give you 
 great pleasure to learn." 
 
 " Allow me to say. Sir Jasper," said Bridgenorth, " that this is 
 unnecessary. I have made no complaints of Sir Geoffrey — I have 
 required no submission from him — I am about to leave this coun- 
 try ^ and what affairs we may have together, can be as well settled 
 by others as by ourselves." 
 
 " In a word," said the divine, " the worthy Major Bridgenorth 
 hath had enough of trafficking with the ungodly, and will no lon- 
 ger, on any terms, consort with Ihem." 
 
 " Gentlemen both," said Sir Jasper, with imperturbable po- 
 liteness, bowing, ''you greatly mistake the tenor of my commission, 
 
PKVEillL OF THE PEAK. 113 
 
 which you will do as well to hear out, before making any reply to 
 it. — I think, Master Bridgenorth, you cannot but remember your 
 letter to the Lady Peveril, of which I have here a rough copy, in 
 which you complain of the hard measure which you have received 
 at Sir Geoffrey's hand, and in particular, when he pulled you from 
 your horse at or near Hartley-nick. Now, Sir Geoffrey thinks so 
 well of you, as to believe, that were it not for the wide diffe- 
 rence betwixt his descent and rank and your own, you would 
 have sought to bring this matter to gentlemanlike arbitrement, as 
 the only mode whereby your stain may be honourably wiped away. 
 Wherefore, in this slight note, he gives you, in his generosity, the 
 offer of what you, in your modesty (for to nothing else does he 
 impute your acquiescence), have declined to demand of him. And 
 wilhal, I bring you the measure of his weapon j and when you have 
 accepted the cartel which I now offer you, I shall be ready to settle 
 the time, place, and other circumstances of your meeting." 
 
 '' And I," said Solsgrace, with a solemn voice, " should the Au- 
 thor of Evil tempt my friend to accept of so blood-thirsty a pro- 
 posal, would be the first to pronounce against him sentence of the 
 greater excommunication." 
 
 " It is not you whom I address, reverend sir," replied the en- 
 voy ; "your interest, not unnaturally, may determine you to be 
 more anxious about your patron's life than about his honour. I 
 must know, from himself to which he is disposed to give the pre- 
 ference." 
 
 So saying, and with a graceful bow, he again tendered the chal- 
 lenge to Major Bridgenorth. There was obviously a struggle in 
 that gentleman's bosom, between the suggestions of human honour 
 and those of religious principle •, but the latter prevailed. He cafmly 
 waved receiving the paper which Sir Jasper offered to him, and 
 spoke to the following purpose: — " II may not be known to you. 
 Sir Jasper, that since the general pouring out of Christian light 
 upon this kingdom, many solid men have been led to doubt whether 
 the shedding human blood by the hand of a fellow-creature be in 
 any respect justifiable. And although this rule appears to me to 
 be scarcely applicable to our state in this stage of trial, seeing that 
 such non-resistance, if general, would surrender our civil and reli- 
 gious rights into the hands of whatsoever daring tyrants might 
 usurp the same; yet I am, and have been, incHned to limit the 
 use of carnal arms to the case of necessary self-defence, whether 
 such regards our own person, or the protection of our country 
 against invasion 5 or of our rights of property, and the freedom of 
 our laws and of our conscience, against usurping power. And as I 
 have never shown myself unwilling to draw my sword in any of 
 the latter causes, so you shall excuse my suffering it now to re- 
 main in the scabbard, when, having sustained a grievous injury, 
 
 8 
 
114 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 the man who inflicled it summons me to combat, either upon an 
 idle punctilio, or, as is more likely, in mere bravado." 
 
 " I have heard you with patience," said Sir Jasper ; " and now. 
 Master Bridgenorlh, take it not amiss, if I beseech you to bethink 
 yourself better on this matter. I vow to Heaven, sir, that your ho- 
 nour lies a-bleeding ; and that in condescending to afford you this fair 
 meeting, and thereby giving you some chance to stop its wounds. 
 Sir Geoffrey has been moved by a lender sense of your condition, 
 and an earnest wish to redeem your dishonour. And it will be but 
 the crossing of your blade with his honoured sword for the space 
 of some few minutes, and you will either live or die a noble and 
 honoured gentleman. Besides, that the Knight's exquisite skill of 
 fence may enable him, as his good-nature will incline him, to dis- 
 arm you with some flesh wound, little to the damage of your per- 
 son, and greatly to the benefit of your reputation." 
 
 "The tender mercies of the wicked," said Master Solsgrace, 
 emphatically, by way of commenting on this speech, which Sir 
 Jasper had uttered very pathetically, " are cruel." 
 
 "I pray to have no farther interruption from your reverence," 
 said Sir Jasper •, " especially as I think this affair very little con- 
 cerns you ; and I entreat that you permit me to discharge myself 
 regularly of my commission from my worthy friend." 
 
 So saying, he took his sheathed rapier from his b?lt, and pass- 
 ing the point through the silk thread which secured the letter, he 
 once more, and literally at sword point, gracefully tendered it to 
 Major Bridgenorth, who again waved it aside, though colouring 
 deeply at the same time, as if he was putting a marked constraint 
 upon himself— drew back, and made Sir Jasper Cranbourne a deep 
 bow. 
 
 '' Since it is to be thus," said sir Jasper, " I must myself do vio- 
 lence to the seal of Sir Geoffrey's letter, and read it to you, that 
 I may fully acquit myself of the charge intrusted to me, and make 
 you. Master Bridgenorlh, equally aware of the generous intentions 
 of Sir Geoffrey on your behalf." 
 
 " If," said Major Bridgenorth, " the contents of Ihe letter be to 
 no other purpose than you have intimated, methinks farther cere- 
 mony is unnecessary on this occasion, as I have already taken my 
 course." 
 
 "Nevertheless," said Sir Jasper, breaking open the letter, " it is 
 filling that I read to you the letter of my worshipful friend." And 
 he read accordingly as follows •, — 
 
 '' For the wonhy hands of Ralph Bridgenorth y Esquire, 
 of Moultrassie-Hall — These : 
 
 "By the honoured conveyance of the Worshipful Sir Jasper Cran- 
 bourne, Knight, of Long-Mallington. 
 
peveril of the peak. 115 
 
 *' Master Bridgenorth, 
 
 *' We have been given lo understand by your letter to our loving 
 wife, Dame Margaret Peveril, that you hold hard construction of 
 certain passages betwixt you and I, of a late date, as if your ho- 
 nour should have been, in some sort, prejudiced by what then 
 look place. And although you have not thought it fit to have direct 
 recourse to me, to request such satisfaction as is due from one 
 gentleman of condition to another, yet I am fully minded that this 
 proceeds only from modesty, arising out of the distinction of our 
 degree, and from no lack of that courage which you have heretofore 
 displayed, I would I could say in a good cause. Wherefore I am 
 purposed to give you, by my friend Sir Jasper Cranbourne, a 
 meeting, for the sake of doing that which doubtless you entirely 
 long for. Sir Jasper will deliver you the length of my weapon, and 
 appoint circumstances and an hour for our meeting ; which, whe- 
 Iher early or late — on foot or horseback — with rapier or backsword 
 — I refer to yourself, with all the other privileges of a challenged 
 person ^ only desiring, that if you decline to match my weapon, 
 you will send me forthwith the length and breadth of your own. And 
 nothing doubling that the issue of this meeting must needs be to 
 end, in one way or other, all unkindness betwixt two near neigh- 
 bours, 
 
 "I remain, 
 
 "Your humble servant to command, 
 
 "Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak. 
 
 "Given from my poor house of Marlindale Castle, this same 
 of sixteen hundred and sixty." 
 
 "Bear back my respects lo Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Major 
 Bridgenorth. "According to his light, his meaning may be fair 
 towards me •, but tell him that our quarrel had its rise in his own 
 wilful aggression towards me 5 and that though I wish to be in cha- 
 rity with all mankind, I am not so wedded to his friendship as to 
 break le laws of God, and run the risk of suffering or committing 
 murder, in order to regain it. And for you, sir, melhinks your 
 advanced years and past misfortunes might teach you the folly of 
 coming on such idle errands." 
 
 " I shall do your message. Master Ralph Bridgenorth," said Sir 
 Jasper •, " and shall then endeavour to forget your name, as a sound 
 unfit to be pronounced, or even rem.embered, by a man of honour. 
 In the meanwhile, in return for your uncivil advice, be pleased (o 
 accept of mine ^ namely, that as your religion prevents your giving 
 
116 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 a gentleman satisfaction, it ought to make you very cautious of 
 offering him provocation." 
 
 So saying, and with a look of haughty scorn, first at the Major 
 and then at the divine, the envoy of Sir Geoffrey put his hat on 
 his head, replaced his rapier in its bell, and left the apartment. In 
 a few minutes afterwards, the tread of his horse died away at a con- 
 siderable distance. 
 
 Bridgenorth had held his hand upon his brow ever since his 
 departure, and a tear of anger and shame was on his face as he 
 raised it when the sound was heard no more. " He carries tills 
 answer to Martindale Castle," he said. "Men will hereafter think 
 of me as a whipped, beaten, dishonourable fellow, whom every one 
 may baffle and insult at their pleasure. It is well I am leaving (he 
 house of my father." 
 
 Master Solsgrace approached his friend with much sympathy, 
 and grasped him by the hand. "Noble brother," he said, with un- 
 wonted kindness of manner, "though a man of peace, I can judge 
 what this sacrifice hath cost to thy manly spirit. But God will not 
 have from us an imperfect obedience. We must not, like Ananias 
 and Sapphira reserve behind some darling lust, some favourite sin, 
 while we pretend to make sacrifice of our worldly affections. What 
 avails it to say that we have but secreted a little matter, if the slight- 
 est remnant of the accursed thing remain hidden in our tent? Would 
 it be a defence in thy prayers to say, I have not murdered this man 
 for the lucre of gain, like a robber' — nor for the acquisition of power, 
 like a tyrant — nor for the gratification of revenge, like a darkened 
 savage ^ but because the imperious voice of worldly honour said, 
 'Go forth— kill or be killed— is it not I have sent thee?' Bethink 
 thee, my worthy friend, how thou couldst frame such a vindication 
 in thy prayers ^ and if thou art forced to tremble at the blasphemy of 
 such an excuse, remember in thy prayers the thanks due to Heaven, 
 which enabled thee to resist the strong temptation." 
 
 "Reverend and dear friend," answeredlBridgenorth, " I feel that 
 you speak the truth. Bitterer indeed, and harder, to the old Adam, 
 is the text which ordains him to suffer shame, than that which 
 bids him to do valiantly for the truth. But happy am I that my 
 path through the wilderness of this world will, for some space at 
 least, be along with one, whose zeal and friendship are so active to 
 support me when I am fainting in the way." 
 
 While the inhabitants of Moultrassie-Hall thus communicated 
 together upon the purport of Sir Jasper Cranbourne's visit, that 
 worthy knight greatly excited the surprise of Sir Geoffrey Peveril, 
 by reporting the manner in which his embassy had been received. 
 "I took him for a man of other metal," said Sir Geoffrey; — 
 " nay, I would have sworn it, had any one asked my testimony. 
 But there is no making a silken purse out of a sow's ear. I have 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 11/ 
 
 done a folly for him that I will never do for another 5 and that is, 
 to think a Presbyterian would fight without his preacher's permis- 
 sion. Give them a two hours' sermon, and let them howl a psalm 
 to a tune that is worse than the cries of a flogged hound, and the 
 villains will lay on like threshers ; but for a calm, cool, gentleman- 
 like turn upon the sod, hand to hand, in a neighbourly way, they 
 have not honour enough to undertake it. But enough of our crop- 
 cared cur of a neighbour. — Sir Jasper, you will tarry with us to 
 dine, and see how Dame Margaret's kitchen smokes \ and after din- 
 ner I will show you a long winged falcon fly. She is not mine, but 
 the Countess's, who brought her from London on her fist almost 
 the whole way, for all the haste she was in, and left her with me to 
 keep the perch for a season." 
 
 This match was soon arranged •, and Dame Margaret overheard 
 the good Knight's resentment mutter itself off, with those feelings 
 with which we listen to the last growling of the thunder-storm ; 
 which, as the black cloud sinks behind the hill, at once assures us 
 that there has been danger, and that the peril is over. She could 
 not, indeed, but marvel in her own mind at the singular path of 
 reconciliation with his neighbour, which her husband had, with so 
 much confidence, and in the actual sincerity of his good-will to 
 Bridgenorth, attempted to open 5 and she blessed God internally 
 that it had not terminated in bloodshed. But these reflections she 
 locked carefully within her own bosom, well knowing that they re- 
 ferred to subjects in which the Knight of the Peak would neither 
 permit his sagacity to be called in question, nor his will to be con- 
 trolled. 
 
 The progress of the history hath hitherto been slow ^ but after 
 this period, so little matter worthy of remark occurred at Martin- 
 dale, thai we must hurry over hastily the transactions of several 
 years. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Cleopalra. Give me to drink mandragora, 
 That I may sleep away this gap of time. 
 ' • . Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 There passed, as we hinted at the conclusion of the last chapter, 
 four or five years after the period we have dilated upon ; the events 
 of which scarcely require to be discussed, so far as our present 
 purpose is concerned,, in as many lines. The Knight and his lady 
 continued to reside at their Castle — she, with prudence and with 
 patience, endeavouring to repair the damages which the Civil Wars 
 had inflicted upon their fortune ; and murmuring a little when her 
 
 / 
 
118 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 plans of economy were interrupted by Ihe liberal hospitality which 
 was her husband's principal expense, and to which -he was at- 
 tached, not only from his own English heartiness of disposition, but 
 from ideas of maintaining the dignity of his ancestry — no less re- 
 inarkable, according to the tradition of their buttery, kitchen, and 
 cellar, for the fat beeves which they roasted, and the mighty ale 
 which they brewed, than for their extensive estates, and the number 
 of their retainers. 
 
 The world, however, upon the whole, went happily and easily 
 with the worthy couple. Sir Geoffrey's debt to his neighbour Bridge- 
 north continued, it is true, unabated^ but he was the only cre- 
 ditor upon the Martindale estate — all others being paid off. It would 
 have been most desirable that this encumbrance also should be 
 cleared, and it was the great object of Dame Margaret's economy 
 to effect the discharge ^ for although interest was regularly settled 
 with Master Win-the-Fight, the Chesterfield attorney, yet the prin- 
 cipal sum, which was a large one, might be called for at an incon- 
 venient time. The man, too, was gloomy, important, and myste 
 rious, and always seemed as if he was thinking upon his broken 
 head in the churchyard of Martindale cum Moullrassie. 
 
 Dame Margaret sometimes transacted the necessary business 
 with him in person ^ and when he came to the Castle on these occa- 
 sions, she thought she saw a malicious and disobliging expression 
 in his manner and countenance. Yet his actual conduct was not 
 only fair, but liberal ; for indulgence was given, in the way of delay 
 of payment, whenever circumstances rendered it necessary to the 
 debtor to require it. It seemed to Lady Peveril, that the agent, in 
 such cases, was acting under the strict orders of his absent em- 
 ployer, concerning whose welfare she could not help feeling a cer- 
 tain anxiety. 
 
 Shortly after the failure of the singular negotiation for attaining 
 peace by combat, which Peveril had attempted to open with Major 
 Bridgenorth, that gentleman left his seat of MouUrassie-Hall in the 
 care of his old housekeeper, and departed, no one knew whither, 
 having in company with him his daughter Alice and Mrs. Deborah 
 Debbitch, now formally installed in all the duties of a governanle ; 
 to these were added the Reverend Master Solsgrace. For some time 
 public rumour persisted in asserting, that Major Bridgenorllf had 
 only retreated to a distant part of the country for a season, to achieve 
 his supposed purpose of marrying Mrs. Deborah, and of letting 
 the news be cold, and the laugh of the neighbourhood be ended, 
 ere he brought her do\yn as mistress of Moultrassie-Hall. This 
 rumour died away ; and it was then affirmed, that he had removed 
 to foreign parts, to ensure the continuance of health in so delicate 
 a constitution as that of little Alice. But when the Major's dread of 
 popery was remembered, together with the still deeper anlipathies 
 f 
 
PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. 119 
 
 of worthy Master Nehemiah Solsgrace, it was resolved unani- 
 mously, that nothing less than what they might deem a fair chance 
 of converting the pope would have induced the parties to trust 
 themselves within Catholic dominions. The most prevailing opi- 
 nion was, that they had gone to New England, the refuge then of 
 many whom too intimate concern with the affairs of the late times, 
 or the desire of enjoying uncontrolled freedom of conscience, had 
 induced to emigrate from Britain. 
 
 Lady Peveril could not help entertaining a vague idea, that 
 Bridgenorth was not so dislant. The extreme order in which every 
 thing was maintained at Moullrassie-Hall, seemed — no disparage- 
 ment to the care of Dame Dickens the housekeeper, and the other 
 persons engaged — to argue that the master's eye was nol^ so very far 
 otr, but that its occasional inspection might be apprehended. It is 
 true, that neither the domestics nor the attorney answered any ques- 
 tions respecting the residence of Master Bridgenorth ^ but there was 
 an air of mystery about tliem when interrogated, that seemed to 
 argue more than met the ear. 
 
 About five years after Master Bridgenorth had left the country, 
 a singular incident took place. Sir Geoffrey was absent at the 
 Chesterfield races, and Lady Peveril, who was in the habit of walk- 
 ing around every part of the neighbourhood unattended, or only 
 accompanied by Ellesmere, or her little boy, had gone down one 
 evening upon a charitable errand to a solitary hut, whose inhabitant 
 lay sick of a fever, which was supposed to be infectious. Lady 
 Peveril never allowed apprehensions of this kind to stop " devoted 
 charitable deeds ;" but she did not choose to expose either her son or 
 her attendant to the risk which she herself, in some confidence that 
 she knew precautions for escaping the danger, did not hesitate to 
 incur. 
 
 Lady Peveril had set out at a late hour in the evening, and the 
 way proved longer than she expected — several circumstances also 
 occurred to detain her at the hut of her patient. It was a broad au- 
 tumn moonlight, when she prepared to return homeward through 
 the broken glades and upland which divided her from the Castle. 
 This she considered as a matter of very little importance, in so quiet 
 and sequestered a country, where the road lay chiefly through her 
 own domains, especially as she had a lad about fifteen years old, the 
 son of her patient, to escort her on the way. The distance was bet- 
 ter than two miles, but might be considerably abridged by passing 
 through an avenue belonging to the estate of Moultrassie-Hall, 
 which she had avoided as she came, not from the ridiculous rumours 
 which pronounced it to be haunted, but because her husband was 
 much displeased when any attempt was made to render the walks 
 of the Castle and Hall common to the inhabitants of both. The good 
 lady, in consideration, perhaps, of extensive latitude allowed to her 
 
120 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 in the more important concerns of the family, made a point of never 
 interfering with her husband's whims or prejudices; and it is a 
 compromise which we would heartily recommend to all managing 
 matrons of our acquaintance ; for it is surprising how much real 
 power will be cheerfully resigned to the fair sex, for the pleasure of 
 being allowed to ride one's hobby in peace and quiet. 
 
 Upon the present occasion, however, although the Bobby's 
 Walk * was within the inhibited domains of the Hall, the Lady Pe- 
 veril determined to avail herself of it, for the purpose of shortening 
 her road home, and she directed her steps accordingly. But when 
 the peasant-boy, her companion, who had hitherto followed her, 
 whistling cheerily, with a hedge-bill in his hand, and his hat on 
 one side, perceived that she turned to the stile which entered to the 
 Dobby*s Walk, he showed symptoms of great fear, and at length, 
 coming to the lady's side, petitioned her, in a whimpering tone, — 
 '' Don't ye now — don't ye now, my lady, don't ye go yonder." 
 
 Lady Peveril, observing that his teelh chattered in his head, and 
 that his whole person exhibited great signs of terror, began to re- 
 collect the report, that the first Squire of Mouitrassie, the brewer 
 of Chesterfield, who had bought the estate, and then died of me- 
 lancholy for lack of something to do (and, as was said, not without 
 suspicions of suicide ), was supposed to walk in this sequestered 
 avenue, accompanied by a large headless mastiff, which, when he 
 was alive, was a peculiar favourite of the ex-brewer. To have ex- 
 pected any protection from her escort, in the condition to which 
 superstitious fear had reduced him, would have been truly a hope- 
 less trust ; and Lady Peveril, who was not apprehensive of any 
 danger, thought there would be great cruelly in dragging the 
 cowardly boy into a scene which he regarded with so much ap- 
 prehension. She gave him, therefore, a silver piece, and permitted 
 him to relurn. The latter boon seemed even more acceptable than 
 the first ; for ere she could return the purse into her pocket, she 
 heard the wooden clogs of her bold convoy in full retreat, by the 
 way from whence they came. 
 
 Smiling within herself at the fear she esteemed so ludicrous. Lady 
 Peveril ascended the stile, and was soon hidden from the broad light 
 of the moonbeams, by the numerous and entangled boughs of the 
 huge elms, which, meeting from either side, totally overarched the 
 old avenue. The scene was calculated to excite solemn thoughts ; 
 and the distant glimmer of a light from one of the numerous 
 casements in the front of Moultrassie-Hall, which lay at some 
 distance, was calculated to make them even melancholy. She thought 
 of the fate of that family— of the deceased Mrs. Bridgenorth, with 
 whom she had often walked in this very avenue, and who, though 
 
 ' Dobby is an old English name for goblin. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 121 
 
 a woman of no high parts or accomplishments, had always testified 
 the deepest respect, and the most earnest gratitude, for such notice 
 as she had shown to her. She thought of her blighted hopes— her 
 premature death—the despair of her self-banished husband — the 
 uncertain fate of their orphan child, for whom she felt, even at this 
 distance of time, some touch of a mother's affection. 
 
 Upon such sad subjects her thoughts were turned, when, just as 
 she attained the middle of the avenue, the imperfect and chequered 
 light which founcj its way through the silvan archway, showed her 
 something which resembled the figure of a man. Lady Peveril 
 paused a moment, but instantly advanced ^ — her bosom, perhaps, 
 gave one startled throb, as a debt to the superstitious behef of the 
 times, but she instantly repelled the thought of supernatural ap- 
 pearances. From those that were merely mortal she had nothing ta 
 fear. A marauder on the game was the worst character whom she 
 was likely to encounter ^ and he would be sure to hide himself from 
 her observation. She advanced, accordingly, steadily ^ and, as she 
 did so, had the satisfaction to observe that the figure, as she expected, 
 gave place to her, and glided away amongst the trees on the left- 
 hand side of the avenue. As she passed the spot on which the form 
 had been so lately visible, and bethought herself that this wanderer 
 of the night might, nay must, be in her vicinity, her resolution 
 could not prevent her mending her pace, and that with so little 
 precaution, that, stumbling over the limb of a tree, which, twisted 
 off by a late tempest, still lay in the avenue, she fell, and, as she 
 fell, screamed aloud, A strong hand in a moment afterwards added 
 to her fear by assisting her to rise, and a voice, to whose accents 
 she was not a stranger, though they had been long unheard, said, 
 " Is it not you. Lady Peveril?" 
 
 ''It is I," said she, commanding her astonishment and fear 5 
 " and, if my ear deceive me not, I speak to Master Bridgenorth." 
 
 ''I was that man," he replied, "while oppression left me a 
 name." 
 
 He spoke nothing more, but continued to walk beside her for a 
 minute or two in silence. She felt her situation embarrassing j and, 
 to divest it of that feeling, as well as out of real interest in the 
 question, she asked him, "How her god-daughter Alice now was? " 
 
 "Of god-daughter, madam," answered Major Bridgenorth, "I 
 know nothing ; that being one of the names which have been in- 
 troduced to the corruption and pollution of God's ordinances. The 
 infant who owed to your ladyship (so called) her escape from disease 
 and death, is a healthy and thriving girl, as I am given to understand 
 by those in whose charge she is lodged, for I have not lately seen 
 her. And it is even the recollection of these passages, which in a 
 manner impelled me, alarmed also by your fall, to offer myself to 
 
122 PEVERIL OF THE PE.\K. 
 
 you in this lime and mode, which in other respects is noway con- 
 sistent with my present safety." 
 
 "With your safety, Master Bridgenorth? " said the Lady Peveril ; 
 '' surely, I could never have thought that it was in danger ! " 
 
 "You have some news, then, yet to learn, madam,*' said Major 
 Bridgenorth; "but you will hear, in the course of to-morrow, 
 reasons why I dare not appear openly in the neighbourhood of my 
 own property, and wherefore there is small judgment in committing 
 the knowledge of my present residence to any one connected with 
 Martindale Castle." 
 
 "Master Bridgenorth," said the lady, " you were in former times 
 prudent and cautious — I hope you have been misled by no hasty 
 impression — by no rash scheme — I hope" — 
 
 "Pardon my interrupting you, madam," said Bridgenorth. " I 
 have indeed been changed — ay, my very heart within me has been 
 changed. In the times to which your ladyship (so called) thinks 
 proper to refer, I was a man of this world— bestowing on il all my 
 thoughts — all my actions, save formal observances — little deeming 
 what was the duty of a Christian man, how far his self-denial ought 
 to extend— even unto giving all as if he gave nothing. Hence I 
 thought chiefly on carnal things— on the adding of field to field, and 
 wealth to wealth— of the balancing between party and party — 
 securing a friend here, without losing a friend there — But Heaven 
 smote me for my apostasy, the rather that I abused the name of 
 religion, as a self-seeker, and a most blinded and carnal will- 
 worshipper— But I thank Him who hath at length brought me out 
 of Egypt." 
 
 In our day — although we have many instances of enthusiasm 
 
 among us — we might still suspect one who avowed it thus suddenly 
 
 and broadly, of hypocrisy, or of insanity : but, according to the 
 
 fashion of the times, such opinions as those which Bridgenorth 
 
 expressed, were openly pleaded, as the ruhng motives of men^s 
 
 actions. The sagacious Vane — the brave and skilful Harrison — 
 
 were men who acted avowedly under the influence of such. Lady 
 
 Peveril, therefore, was more grieved than surprised at the language 
 
 she heard Major Bridgenorth use, and reasonably concluded, that 
 
 the society and circumstances in which he might lately have been 
 
 engaged , had blown into a flame the spark of eccentricity which 
 
 always mouldered in his bosom. This was the more probable, 
 
 considering that he was melancholy by constitution and descent— r 
 
 that he had been unfortunate in several particulars — and that no 
 
 passion is more easily nursed by indulgence, than the species of 
 
 enthusiasm of which he now showed tokens. She Iherefore answered 
 
 him by calmly hoping, " That the expression of his sentimenis 
 
 had not involved him in suspicion or in danger." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 123 
 
 " In suspicion, madam?" answered the Major •, — '' for I cannot 
 forbear giving to you, such is the strength of habit, one of those 
 idle titles by which we poor potsherds are wont, in our pride, to 
 denominate each other — I walk not only in suspicion, but in that 
 degree of danger, that, were your husband to meet me at this instant 
 — me, a native Englishman, treading on my own lands— I have no 
 doubt he would do his best to offer me to the Moloch of Romish 
 superstition, who now rages abroad for victims among God's 
 people/' 
 
 '' You surprise me by your language, Major Bridgenorth," said 
 the lady, who now felt rather anxious to be relieved from his com- 
 pany, and with that purpose walked on somewhat hastily. He 
 mended his pace, however, and kept close by her side. 
 
 " Know you not," said he, " that Satan hath come down upon 
 earlh with great wralh, because his lime is short? The next heir to 
 the crown is an avowed Papist-, and who dare assert, save sycophants 
 and time-servers, that he who wears it is not equalfy ready to sloop^ 
 to Rome, were he not kept in awe by a few noble spirits in thd 
 Commons' House? You believe not this— yet in my solitary and 
 midnight walks, when I thought on your kindness to the dead and 
 to the living, it was my prayer that I might have the means granted 
 to warn you — and lo ! Heaven hath heard me." 
 
 " Major Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, '' you were wont lo 
 be moderate in these sentiments — comparatively moderate, at least, 
 and to love your own religion, without hating that of others." 
 
 " What I was while in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of 
 iniquity, it signifiesnot to recall," answered he; "I was then like to 
 Gallio, who cared for none of these things. I doted on creature- 
 comforts — I clung to worldly honour and repute — my thoughts 
 were earlhward — or those I turned to Heaven were cold, formal, 
 Pharisaical meditations— I brought nothing to the altar save straw 
 and stubble. Heaven saw need to chastise me in love — I was stripped 
 of all that I clung to on earlh — my worldly honour was torn from 
 me — I went forth an exile from the home of my fathers, a deprived 
 and desolate man — a baffled, and beaten, and dishonoured man. 
 But who shall find out the ways of Providence ? Such were the 
 means by which I was chosen forth as a champion for the truth — 
 holding my life as nothing, if thereby that may be advanced. But 
 this was not what I wished to speak of. Thou hast saved the earthly 
 life of my child— let me save the eternal welfare of yours." 
 
 Lady Peveril was silent. They were now approaching the point 
 where the avenue terminated in a communication with a public 
 road, or rather pathway, running through an unenclosed common 
 field ; this the lady had to prosecute for a little way, until a turn of 
 the path gave her admittance into the Park of Martindale. She now 
 felt sincerely anxious to be in the open moonshine, and avoided 
 
124 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 reply to Bridgenorth that she might make the more haste. But as 
 they reached the junction of the avenue and the public road, he laid 
 his hand on her arm, and commanded rather than requested her to 
 stop. She obeyed. He pointed to a huge oak, of the largest size, 
 which grew on the summit of a knoll in the open ground which 
 terminated the avenue, and was exactly so placed as to serve for a 
 termination to the vista. The moonshine without the avenue was so 
 strong, that, amidst the flood of light which it poured on the vene- 
 rable tree, they could easily discover, from the shattered state of 
 the boughs on one side, that it had suffered damage from lightning. 
 " Remember you," he said, '' when we last looked together on 
 that tree? I had ridden from London, and brought with me a pro- 
 tection from the committee for your husband 5 and as I passed the 
 spot — here on this spot where we now stand, you stood with my 
 lost Alice — two—the last two of my beloved infants gambolled be- 
 fore you. I leaped from my horse— to her I was a husband — to 
 those a father— io you a welcome and revered protector — what am 
 I now to any one?" He pressed his hand on his brow, and groaned 
 in agony of spirit. 
 
 It was not in the Lady Peveril's nature to hear sorrow without an 
 attempt at consolation. " Master Bridgenorth," she said, "I blame 
 no man's creed, while I believe and follow my own •, and I rejoice 
 that in yours you have sought consolation for temporal afflictions. 
 But does not every Christian creed teach us alike, that affliction 
 should soften our heart?" 
 
 ''Ay, woman," said Bridgenorth, sternly, "as the lightning which 
 shattered yonder oak hath softened its trunk. No 5 the seared wood 
 is the filler for the. use of the workmen — the hardened and the 
 dried-up heart is that which can best bear the task imposed by these 
 dismal times. God and man will no longer endure the unbridled 
 profligacy of the dissolute — the scoffing of the profane— the con- 
 tempt of the divine laws — the infraction of human rights. The times 
 demand righters and avengers, and there will be no want of them." 
 " I deny not the existence of much evil," said Lady Peveril, com- 
 pelling herself to answer, and beginning at the same time to walk 
 forward; "and from hearsay, though not, I thank Heaven, from 
 observation, I am convinced of the wild debauchery of the limes. 
 But let us trust it may be corrected without such violent remedies 
 as you hint at. Surely the ruin of a second civil war— though I 
 trust your thoughts go not that dreadful length— were at best a des- 
 perate alternative." 
 
 "Sharp, but sure," replied Bridgenorth. "The blood of the 
 
 Paschal Iamb chased away the destroying angel — the sacrifices 
 
 offered on the threshing-floor of Araunah, stayed the pestilence. 
 
 Fire and sword are severe remedies, but they purge and purify." 
 
 "Alas! Major Bridgenorth," said the lady, " wise and moderate 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 125 
 
 in your youth, can you have adopted in your advanced life the 
 thoughts and language of those whom you yourself beheld drive 
 themselves and the nation to the brink of ruin?" 
 
 " I know not what I then was—you know not what I now am," 
 he replied, and suddenly broke off*, for they even then came forth 
 into the open light, and it seemed as if, feeling himself under the 
 lady's eye, he was disposed to soften his tone and his language. 
 
 At the first distinct view which she had of his person, she was 
 aware that he was armed with a short sword, a poniard, and pistols 
 at his belt — precautions very unusual for a man who formerly had 
 seldom, and only on days of ceremony, carried a walking rapier, 
 though such was the habitual and constant practice of gentlemen 
 of his station in life. There seemed also something of more stern 
 determination than usual in his air, which indeed had always been 
 rather sullen than affable ^ and ere she could repress the sentiment, 
 she could not help saying, "Master Bridgenorlh, you are indeed 
 changed." 
 
 "You see but the outward man," he replied ; " the change within 
 is yet deeper. But it was not of myself that I desired to talk — I 
 have already said, that as you have preserved my child from the 
 darkness of the grave, I would willingly preserve yours from that 
 more utter darkness, which, 1 fear, hath involved the path and walks 
 of his father." 
 
 " I must not hear this of Sir Geoffrey," said the Lady Peveril ; 
 " I must bid you farewell for the present; and when we again meet 
 at a more suitable time, I will at least listen to your advice concern- 
 ing Julian, although I should not perhaps incline to it." 
 
 "That more suitable time may never come," replied Bridge- 
 north. "Time wanes, eternity draws nigh. Hearken! It is said to 
 be your purpose to send the young Julian to be bred up in yonder 
 bloody island, under the hand of your kinswoman, that cruel 
 murderess, by whom was done to death a man more worthy of vital 
 existence than any that she can boast among her vaunted ancestry. 
 These are current tidings — Are they true?" 
 
 " I do not blame you. Master Bridgenorth, for thinking harshly 
 of my cousin of Derby," said Lady Peveril; " nor do I altogether 
 vindicate the rash action of which she hath been guilty. Never- 
 theless, in her habitation, it is my husband's opinion and my own, 
 that Julian may be trained in the studies and accomplishments be- 
 coming his rank, along with the young Earl of Derby." 
 
 " Under the curse of God, and the blessing of the Pope of Rome," 
 said Bridgenorth. " You, lady, so quicksighfed in matters of earth- 
 ly prudence, are you blind to the gigantic pace at which Rome is 
 moving to regain this country, once the richest gem in her usurped 
 tiara? The old are seduced by gold — the youth by pleasure — the 
 weak by flattery— cowards by fear — and the courageous by ambi- 
 
1-2G ' PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 lion. A thousand baits for each taste, and each bait concealing the 
 same deadly hook." 
 
 *' I am well aware, Master Bridgenorlh," said Lady Peveril, 
 "- that my kinswoman is a Catholic ' •, but her son is educated in the 
 Church of England's principles, agreeably to the command of her 
 deceased husband." 
 
 " Is it likely," answered Bridgenorth, *' that she, who fears not 
 shedding the blood of the righteous, whether on the field or scaf- 
 fold, will regard the sanction of her promise when her religion bids 
 her break it ! Or, if she does, what shall your son be the better, if 
 he remain in the mire of his father? What are your Episcopal 
 tenets but mere Popery, save that ye have chosen a temporal tyrant 
 for your Pope, and substitute a mangled mass in English for that 
 which your predecessors pronounced in Latin?— But why speak I 
 of these things to one who hath ears indeed, and eyes, yet cannot 
 see, listen to, or understand, what is alone worthy to be heard, 
 seen, and known? Pity, that what hath been wrought so fair and 
 exquisite in form and in disposition, should be yet bhnd, deaf, and 
 ignorant, like the things which perish! " 
 
 "We shall not agree on these subjects, Master Bridgenorlh," 
 said the lady, anxious still to escape from this strange conference, 
 though scarce knowing what to apprehend 5 '- once more, I must 
 bid you farewell." 
 
 " Stay yet an instant," he said, again laying his hand on her 
 arm; " I would slop you if I saw you rushing on the brink of an 
 actual precipice — let me prevent you from a danger still greater. 
 How shall I work upon your unbelieving mind ? Shall I tell you that 
 the debt of bloodshed yet remains a debt to be paid by the bloody 
 house of Derby? And wilt thou send thy son to be among those 
 from whom it shall be exacted?" 
 
 " You wish to alarm me in vain. Master Bridgenorth," answered 
 the lady ^ "what penally can be exacted from the Countess for an 
 action which I have already called a rash one, has been long since 
 levied." 
 
 "You deceive yourself," retorted he, sternly. "Think you a 
 paltry sum of money, given to be wasted on the debaucheries of 
 Charles, can atone for the death of such a man as Christian — a man 
 precious ahke to heaven and to earth? Not on such terms is the 
 blood of the righteous to be poured forth ! Every hour's delay is 
 numbered down as adding interest to the grievous debt, which will 
 one day be required from that blood-thirsty woman." 
 
 At this moment the distant tread of horses was heard on the road 
 on which they held ttiis singular dialogue. Bridgenorlh listened a 
 moment, and then said, " Forget that you have seen me — name 
 
 > I have elsewhere noticed that this is a deviation from the truth— Charlotte, Countess 
 of Derby, was a Huguenot. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 127 
 
 not my name to your nearest or dearest — lock my counsel in your 
 breasl — profit by it, and it shall be well with you." 
 
 So saying, he turned from her, and, plunging through a gap in 
 the fence, regained the cover of his own wood, along which the path 
 still led. 
 
 The noise of horses advancing at full trot, now came nearer ^ 
 and Lady Peveril was aware of several riders, whose forms rose 
 indistinctly on the summit of Ihc rising ground behind her. She 
 became also visible to them ^ and one or two of the foremost made 
 towards her at increased speed, challenging her as Ihey advanced 
 with the cry of "Standi Who goes there?" The foremost who 
 came up, however, exclaimed, " Mercy on us, if it be not my lady!" 
 and Lady Peveril, at the same moment, recognised one of her own 
 servants. Her husband rode up immediately afterwards, with, 
 "■ How now, Dame Margaret? What makes you abroad so far from 
 home, and at an hour so late?" 
 
 Lady Peveril mentioned her visit at the cottage, but did not think 
 it necessary to say aught of having seen Major Bridgenorth ^ afraid, 
 perhaps, that her husband might be displeased with that incident. 
 '•' Charity is a fine thing, and a fair," answered Sir Geoffrey ^ 
 " but I must tell you, you do ill, dame, to wander about the coun- 
 try like a quacksalver, at the call of every old woman who has a 
 colic-fit ^ and at this time of night especially, and when the land is 
 so unsettled besides." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that it is so," said the lady — " I had heard 
 no such news." 
 
 "Newsl" repeated Sir Geoffrey; ''why, here has a new plot 
 broken out among the Roundheads, worse than Venner's by a butt's 
 length ' ; and who should be so deep in it as our old neighbour 
 Bridgenorth? There is search for him everywhere ; and I promise 
 you, if he is found, he is like to pay old scores." 
 
 "Then I am sure, I trust he will not be found," said Lady 
 Peveril. 
 
 ''Do you so?" replied Sir Geoffrey. "Now I, on my part, hope 
 that he will •, and it shall not be my fault if he be not ; for which 
 effect I will presently ride down to Moultrassie, and make strict 
 search, according to my duty ; there shall neither rebel nor traitor 
 earth so near Marlindale Castle, that I will assure them. And you, 
 my lady, be pleased for once to dispense with a pillion, and get up, 
 as you have done before, behind Saunders, who shall convey you 
 safe home. 
 
 The lady obeyed in silence 5 indeed, she did not dare to trust 
 her voice in an attempt to reply, so much was she disconcerted 
 with the intelligence she had just heard. 
 
 ' The celebrated insurrection of the Anabaptists and Fifth Monarchy men in London, 
 
 in the year 166 . 
 
128 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 She rode behind the groom to the Castle, where she awaited in 
 great anxiety the return of her husband. He came back at length ; 
 but, to her great relief, without any prisoner. He then explained 
 more fully than his haste had before permitted, that an express had 
 come down to Chesterfield, with news from Court of a purposed 
 insurrection amongst the old Commonwealth men, especially those 
 who had served in the army ; and that Bridgenorth, said to be 
 lurking in Derbyshire, was one of the principal conspirators. 
 
 After some time, this report of a conspiracy seemed to die away 
 like many others of that period. The warrants were recalled, but 
 nothing more was seen or heard of Major Bridgenorth; although 
 it is probable he might safely enough have shown himself as 
 openly as many did who lay under the same circumstances of sus- 
 picion ' . 
 
 About this time also, Lady Peveril, with many tears, look a tem- 
 porary leave of her son Julian, who was sent, as had long been in- 
 tended, for the purpose of sharing the education of the young Earl 
 of Derby. Although the boding words of Bridgenorth sometimes 
 occurred to Lady Peveril's mind, she did not suffer them to weigh 
 with her in opposition to the advantages which the patronage of 
 the Countess of Derby secured to her son. 
 
 The plan seemed to be in every respect successful •, and when, 
 from time to time, Julian visited the house of his father. Lady Pe- 
 veril had the satisfaction to see him, on every occasion, improved 
 in person and in manner^, as well as ardent in the pursuit of more 
 solid acquirements. In process of time, he became a gallant and 
 accomplished youth, and travelled for some time upon the conti- 
 nent with the young Earl. This was the more especially necessary 
 for the enlarging of their acquaintance with the world 5 because 
 the Countess had never appeared in London, or at the Court of 
 King Charles, since her flight to the Isle of Man in 1660 •, but had 
 resided in solitary and aristocratic state, alternately on her estates 
 in England and in that island. 
 
 This had given to the education of both the young men, other- 
 wise as excellent as the best teachers could render it, something of 
 a narrow and restricted character ; but though the disposition of 
 the young Earl was lighter and more volatile than that of Julian, 
 both the one and the other had profited, in a considerable degree 
 by the opportunities afforded them. It was Lady Derby's strict in- 
 junction to her son, now returning from the continent, that he 
 should not appear at the Court of Charles. But having been for 
 some lime of age, he did not think it absolutely necessary to obey 
 her in this particular ; and had remained for some time in London, 
 partaking the pleasures of the gay Court there, with all the ardour 
 of a young man bred up in comparative seclusion. 
 
 » Note, p. 129. Persecution of the Puritans. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK; 129 
 
 In order fo reconcile llie Couniess to this transgression of her 
 iuiHiorily (for he conlinued to entertain for her the profound respect 
 in which he had been educated), Lord Derby agreed to make a long 
 sojourn with her in her favourite island, which he abandoned almost 
 entirely to her management. 
 
 Julian Peveril had spent at Martindalc Castle a good deal of Iho 
 lime which his friend had bestowed in London ; and at the period 
 to which, passing over many years, our story has arrived, as it 
 were, per saltam, they were both living, as the Countess's guesis, 
 in the CasUe of Ptushin, in the venerable kingdom of Man. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER X. 
 
 Note, p. 128.— Pehsecltion of the Pcritaxs. 
 
 II is naturally to be supposed, that the twenty years' triumph of the puritans, and the 
 violence towards the raalignants, as they were wont to call the cavaliers, had generated 
 many grudges and feuds iu almost every neighbourhood, which the victorious royalists 
 failed not to act upon, jo soon as the Restoration gave them a superiority. Captain 
 Hodgson, a parliamentary officer who wrote his own memoirs, gives us many instances 
 of this. I shall somewhat compress his long-winded account of his sufferings. 
 
 " It was after the King's return to London, one night a parcel of armed men comes to 
 my house at Coalley Hall, near Halifax, and in an unseasonable hour in the night demands 
 entrance, and my servants having some discourse with them on the outside, they gave 
 threatening language, and put their pistols in at the windows. My wife being with child, 
 1 ordered the doors to be opened, and they came in. After they had presented a pistol 
 to my breast, they showed rae their aulhorily to apprehend me, under the hands and seals 
 of two knights and dcpuly-lieutenaats, ' for speaking treasonable words against the 
 King.'" The ci-devant captain was conveyed to prison at Bradford, and bail refused. 
 Ilis prosecutor proved to be one Daniel Lyster, brother to the peace-officer who headed 
 the troop for his apprehension. It seems that the prisoner Hodgson had once in former 
 days bound over to his good behaviour this Daniel Lyster, then accused of adultery and 
 other debauched habits. " After the King came in," says Hodgson," this man meets me, 
 and demands the names of those that informed against him, and a copy of their informa- 
 tion. I told him that the business was over, and that it was not reasonable to rip up old 
 troubles, on which he threatened me, and said he would have Ihem. ' The sun,' he said, 
 ' now shines on our side of the hedge.' " Such being his accuser, Hoduson was tried for 
 having said, " Ihere is a crown provided, but the King will never wear it;" to which 
 was added, that he alleged he had " never been a turncoat,— never took the oath of alle- 
 giance, and never would do." Little or no part of the charge was proved, while on the 
 contrary it was shown that the prosecutor had been heard to say, that if limes ever 
 changed, he would sit on Hodgson's skirts. In fine, Hodgson escaped for live months' 
 imprisonment, about thirty pounds expenses, and the necessity of swallowing the oath 
 of allegiance, which seems to have been a bitter pill. 
 
 About the middle of June i662, Captain Hodgson was again arrested in a summary 
 manner by one Peebles an attorney, quarter-master to Sir John Armytage's troop of 
 horse-militia, with about twelve other cavaliers, who used him rudely, called him rebel 
 and traitor, and seemed to wish to pick a quarrel with him, upon wliich he demanded to 
 see their authority. Peebles laid his hand on his sword, and told him it was better 
 authority than any ever granted by Cromwell. They suffered him, however, to depart, 
 which he partly owed to the valour of his landlady, who sate down at the table-end 
 betwixt him and danger, and kept his antagonists at some distance. 
 
 He was afterwards accused of having assembled some troopers, from his having been 
 accidentally seen riding with a soldier, from which accusation he also escaped. 'Finally, 
 he fell under suspicion of being concerned in a plot, of which the scene is called Sowerby. 
 On this charge he is not explicit, but the grand jury found the bill ignoramus. 
 
 After this the poor Roundhead was again repeatedly accused and arrested ; and the last 
 occasion we shall notice occurred on i itb September, i6C2, when he was disarmed by his 
 old friend Mr. Peebles, at the head of a party. He demanded to see the warrant ; on 
 which he was answered as formerly, by the quarter-master laying his hand on his sword- 
 
 9 
 
/ 
 
 130 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 hilt, saying it was a better order than Oliver used to give. At length a warrant was pro- 
 duced, and Hodgson submitting to the search, they took from his dwelling house better 
 than 20/. value in fowling-pieces, pistols, muskets, carbines, and such like. A quarrel 
 ensued about his buff coat, which Hodgson refused to deliver, alleging they had no 
 authority to lake his wearing apparel. To this he remained constant, even upon the per- 
 sonal threats of Sir John Armytage, who called him rebel and traitor, and said," Jf 1 did 
 not send the buff coat with all speed, he would commit me to jail. I told him," says 
 Hodgson," I was no rebel, and he did not well to call me so before these soldiers and 
 gentlemen, to make me the mark for every one to shoot at." The buff coat was then 
 peremptorily demanded, and at length seized by open force. One of Sir John Army tage's 
 brethren wore it for many years after, making good Prince Henry's observation, that a 
 buff jerkin is a most sweet robe of durance. An agent of Sir John's came to compound 
 for this garment of proof. Hodgson says he would not have taken ten pounds for it. Sir 
 John would have given about four, but insisting on the owner's receipt for the money, 
 which its former possessor was unwilling to grant, the tory magistrate kept both sides, 
 and Hodgson never received satisfaction. 
 
 We will not prosecute Mr. Hodgson's tale of petty grievances any farther. Enough has 
 been said to display the melancholy picture of the country after the civil war, and to 
 show the state of irritability and oppression which must have extended itself over the 
 face of England, since there was scarcely a county in which battles had not been fought, 
 and deep injuries sustained, during the ascendency of the roundheads, which were not 
 afterwards retaliated by the vengeance of the cavaliers. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Mona— long bid from those who roam the main. 
 
 Collins. 
 
 The Isle of Man, in the middle of Ihe seventeenth century, was 
 very different, as a place of residence, from what it is now. Men 
 had not then discovered its merit as a place of occasional refuge from 
 the storms of life, and the society to be there met with was of a very 
 uniform tenor. There were no smart fellows, whom fortune had 
 tumbled from the seat of their barouches — no plucked pigeons, or 
 winged rooks — no disappointed speculators— no ruined miners — 
 in short, no one worth talking to. The society of the island was 
 limited to the natives themselves, and a few merchants, who lived by 
 contraband trade. The amusements were rare and monotonous, and 
 the mercurial young Earl was soon heartily tired of his dominions. 
 The islanders also^ become too wise for happiness, bad lost relish for 
 the harmless and somewhat childish sports in which their simple 
 ancestors had indulged themselves. May was no longer ushered in 
 by the imaginary contest between the Queen of retiring winter 
 and advancing spring ; the listeners no longer sympathized with the 
 lively music of the followers of the one, or the discordant sounds 
 with which the other asserted a more noisy claim to attention. 
 Christmas, too, closed, and the steeples no longer jangled forth a 
 dissonant peal. The wren, to seek for which used to be the sport 
 dedicated to the holy tide, was left unpursued and unslain. Party 
 spirit had come among these simple people, and destroyed their 
 good-humour, while it left them their ignorance. Even the races, a 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 131 
 
 sport generally interesting to people of all ranks, were no longer 
 performed, because ihey were no longer attractive. The genllemen 
 were divided by feuds hilherlo unknown, and each seemed to hold it 
 scorn to be pleased with the same diversions that amused those of 
 the opposite faction. The hearts of both parties revolted from the 
 recollection of former days, when all was peace among them, when 
 the Earl of Derby, now slaughtered, used to bestow the prize, and 
 Christian, since so vindictively executed, started horses to add to the 
 amusement *. 
 
 Julian was seated in the deep recess which led to a latticed window 
 of the old Castle:; and, with his arms crossed, and an air of profound 
 contemplation, was surveying the long perspective of ocean, which 
 rolled its successive waves up to the foot of the rock on which the 
 ancient pile is founded. The Earl was suffering under the infliction 
 of ennui — now looking into a volume of Homer — now whistling — 
 now swinging on his chair — now traversing llie room — till, at 
 length, his attention became swallowed up in admiration of the Irao- 
 quillity of his companion. 
 
 ''King of Men!" he said, repealing the favourite epithet by 
 which Homer describes Agamemnon, — "I trust, for the old Greek's 
 sake, he had a merrier oflice than being King cf Man — Most phi- 
 losophical Julian, will nothing rouse thee — not even a bad pun on 
 my own royal dignity?" 
 
 '^I wish you would be a little more the King in Man," said Ju- 
 lian, starting from his reverie, "and then you would find more 
 amusement in your dominions." 
 
 "What! dethrone that royal Semiramis my mother," said the 
 young lord, " who has as much pleasure in playing Queen as if she 
 were a real Sovereign? — I wonder you can give me such counsel." 
 
 "Your mother, as you well know, my dear Derby, would be 
 delighted, did you take any interest in the affairs of the island." 
 
 "Ay, truly, she would permit me to be King 5 but she would 
 choose to remain Viceroy over me. Why, she would only gain a 
 subject the more, by my converting my spare time, which is so very 
 valuable to me, to the cares of royalty. No, no, Julian, she thinks 
 it power to direct all the affairs of these poor Manxmen; and, 
 thinking it power, she finds it pleasure. I shall not interfere, un- 
 less she hold a high court of justice again. I cannot afford to pay 
 another fine to my brother, King Charles— But I forget— this is a 
 sore point with you." 
 
 "With the Countess, at least," replied Juiian ; "and I wonder 
 you will speak of it." 
 
 " Why, I bear no malice against the poor man's memory any 
 more than yourself, though I have not the same reasons for holding 
 
 ' Note, p. 138. Popular Pastimes in the Isle of Man. 
 
J 32 PEVKRIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 it in veneration," replied the Earl of Derby •, " and yet I have some 
 respect for it too. T remember their bringing him out to die— It 
 was the first holiday I ever had in my life, and I heartily wish it 
 'had been on some other account." 
 
 " I would rather hear you speak of any thing else, my lord," 
 said Julian. 
 
 " Why, there it goes," answered the Earl ^ " whenever I talk of 
 any thing that puts you on your mettle, and warms your blood, 
 that runs as cold as a merman's — to use a simile of this happy island 
 — Hey pass! you press me to change the subject. — Well, what shall 
 we talk of? — Julian, if you had not gone down to earth yourself 
 among the castles and caverns of Derbyshire, we should have had 
 enough of delicious topics— (he playhouses, Julian — Both the King's 
 house and (he Duke's — Louis's establishment is a jest lo them •, — and 
 the Piing in the Park, which beats Ihe Corso at Naples and the 
 beauties, who beat the whole world I " 
 
 '• I am very willing to hear you speak on the subject, my lord," 
 answered Juhan ^ " the less I have seen of the London world myself, 
 the more I am likely to be amused by your account of it." 
 
 ''Ay, my friend — but where to begin? — with the wit of Buck- 
 ingham, and Sedley, and Elherege, or with the grace of Harry 
 Jermyn — the courtesy of the Duke of Blonmouth, or with the love- 
 liness of La Belle Hamilton — of the Duchess of Richmond — of 
 
 Lady , the person of Koxalana, the smart humour of Mrs. 
 
 Nelly " 
 
 " Or what say you to the bewitching sorceries of Lady Cynthia?" 
 demanded his companion. 
 
 " Faith, I would have kept these to myself," said the Earl, " to 
 follow your prudent example. But since you ask me, I fairly own 
 I cannot tell what to say of them •, only I think of them twenty 
 times as often as all the beauties I have spoke of. And yet she is 
 neither the twentieth part so beautiful as the plainest of these Court 
 beauties, nor so witty as the dullest I have named, nor so modish — 
 that is the great matter — as the most obscure. I cannot tell what 
 makes me dote on her, except that she is as capricious as her whole 
 sex put together." 
 
 " That I should think a small recommendalion," answered his 
 companion. 
 
 " Small, do you term it," replied the Earl, " and write yourself 
 a brother of the angle? Why, which hke you best? to pull a dead 
 strain on a miserable^ gudgeon, which you draw ashore by main 
 force, as the fellows here tow in their fishing-boats — or a lively 
 salmon, that makes your rod crack, and your line whistle — plays 
 you ten thousand mischievous pranks — wearies your heart out 
 with hopes and fears — and is only Liid panting on the bank, after 
 you have shown Ihe most unmalchable display of skill, patience. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 133 
 
 ond dexterity ? — But I see you have a mind to go on angling af(cr 
 your own old fashion. Off laced coat, and on brown jerkin*, — lively 
 colours scare fish in (he sober waters of the Isle of Man •, — failh, 
 in London you will catch few, unless the bait glistens a lilllc. But 
 you are going? — well, good luck to you. I will lake to the barge ^ 
 —the sea and wind are less inconstant than the tide you have em- 
 barked on." 
 
 " You have learned to say all these smart things in London^, my 
 lord," answered Julian-, "but we shall have you a penitent for 
 Ihem, if Lady Cynthia be of my mind. Adieu, and pleasure till we 
 meet." 
 
 The young men parted accordingly •, and while the Earl betook 
 him to his pleasure voyage, Julian, as his friend had prophesied, 
 assumed the dress of one who means to amuse himself with anghng. 
 The hat and feather were exchanged for a cap of grey cloth 5 the 
 deeply-laced cloak and doublet for a simple jacket of the same 
 colour, with hose conforming 5 and finally, with rod in hand, and 
 pannier at his back, mounted upon a handsome Manx pony, young 
 Peveril rode briskly over the country which divided him from one 
 of those beautiful streams, thai descend to the sea from the Kirk- 
 Merlagh mountains. 
 
 Having reached the spot where he meant to commence his day's 
 sport, Julian let his little steed graze, which, accustomed to the 
 situa'ion, followed him like a dog*, and now and then, when tired 
 of picking herbage in the valley through which the stream winded, 
 came near her master's side, and, as if she had been a curious amateur 
 of the sport, gazed on the trouts as Julian brought Ihem struggling 
 to the'shore. But Fairy's master showed, on that day, little of the 
 patience of a real angler, and took no heed to old Isaac Walton's 
 recommendation, to fish the streams inch by inch. He chose, in- 
 deed, with an angler's eye, the most promising casts, where the 
 stream broke sparkling over a stone, affording the wonted shelter 
 to trout*, or where, gliding away from a rippling current to a still 
 eddy, it streamed under the projecting bank, or dashed from the 
 pool of some low cascade. By this judicious selection of spots where- 
 on to employ his art, the sportsman's basket was soon sufficiently 
 heavy, to show that his occupation was not a mere pretext; and so 
 soon as this was the case, he walked briskly up the glen, only making 
 a cast from time to lime, in case of his being observed from any of 
 the neighbouring heights. 
 
 It was a little green and rocky valley through which the brook 
 strayed, very lonely, although the slight track of an unformed road 
 showed that it was occasionally traversed, and that it was not alto- 
 gether void of inhabitants. As Peveril advanced still farther, the 
 right bank reached to some distance from the stream, leaving a piece 
 of meadow ground, the lower part of which, being close to the 
 
134 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 brook, was entirely covered with rich herbage, being possibly oc- 
 casionally irrigated by its overflow. The higher part of the level 
 ground afforded a stance for an old house, of a singular structure, 
 with a terraced garden, and a cultivated field or two beside it. In 
 former limes, a Danish or Norwegian fastness had stood here, 
 called the Black Fort, from the colour of a huge heathy hill, which, 
 rising behind the building, appeared to be the boundary of the valley, 
 and to afford the source of the brook. But the original structure had 
 been long demolished, as, indeed, it probably only consisted of dry 
 stones, and its materials had been applied to the construction of 
 the present mansion — the work of some churchman during the six- 
 teenth century, as was evident from the huge stone-work of its 
 windows, which scarce left room for light to pass through, as well 
 as from two or three heavy buttresses, which projected from the 
 front of the house, and exhibited on their surface little niches for 
 images. These had been carefully destroyed, and pots of flowers 
 were placed in the niches in their stead, besides their being orna- 
 mented by creeping plants of various kinds, fancifully twined around 
 them. The garden was also in good order 5 and though the spot 
 was extremely solitary, there was about it altogether an air of 
 comfort, accommodation, and even elegance, by no means gene- 
 rally characteristic of the habitations of the island at the time. 
 
 With much circumspection, Julian Peveril approached the low 
 Gothic porch, which defended the entrance of the mansion from 
 the tempests incident to its situation, and was, like the buttresses, 
 overrun with ivy and olher creeping plants. An iron ring, contrived 
 so as when drawn up and down to rattle against the bar of notched 
 iron through which it was suspended, served the purpose of a 
 knocker ; and to this he applied himself, though with the greatest 
 precaution. 
 
 He received no answer for some time, and indeed it seemed as 
 if the house was totally uninhabited ; when, at length, his impatience 
 getting the upper hand, he tried to open the door, and, as it was 
 only upon the latch, very easily succeeded. He passed through a 
 little low-arched hall, the upper end of which was occupied by a 
 staircase, and turning to the left opened the door of a summer 
 parlour, wainscoted with black oak, and very simply furnished with 
 chairs and tables of the same materials •, the former cushioned with 
 leather. The apartment was gloomy — one of those stone-shafted 
 windows which we have mentioned, with its small latticed panes, 
 and thick garland of foliage, admitting but an imperfect light. 
 
 Over the chimneypiece (which was of the same massive materials 
 with the panelling of the apartment) was the only ornament of the 
 room •, a painting, namely, representing an officer in the military 
 dress of the Civil Wars. It was a green jerkin, then the national 
 and peculiar wear of the Manxmen j his short band which hung 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 135 
 
 down on the cuirass — the orange-coloured scarf, but, above all, 
 the shortness of his close-cut hair, showing evidently to which of 
 the great parties he had belonged. His right hand rested on the 
 hilt of his sword \ and in the left he held a small Bible, bearing the 
 inscriplion, " In hocsigno.'' The countenance was of alight com- 
 plexion, with fair and almost effeminate blue eyes, and an oval form 
 of face — one of those physiognomies, to which, though not other- 
 wise unpleasing, we naturally attach the idea of melancholy and of 
 misfortune *. Apparently it was well known to Julian Peveril^ for, 
 after having looked at it for a long time, he could not forbear 
 muttering aloud, "What would I give that that man had never 
 been born, or that he still lived !" 
 
 '^ How now — how is this ?" said a female, who entered the room 
 as he uttered this reflection. " You here, Master Peveril, in spile 
 of all the warnings you have had ! You here, in the possession of 
 folk's house when they are abroad, and talking to yourself, as I 
 shall warrant I" 
 
 " Yes, Mistress Deborah," said Peveril, " I am here once more, 
 as you see, against every prohibition, and in defiance of all danger. 
 — Where is Alice ?" 
 
 *' Where you will never see her. Master Julian — you may sa- 
 tisfy yourself of that," answered Mistress Deborah, for it was that 
 respectable governanle ; and sinking down at the same time upon 
 one of the large leathern chairs, she began to fan herself with her 
 handkerchief, and complain of the heat in a most ladylike fashion. 
 
 In fact. Mistress Debbitch, while her exterior intimated a con- 
 siderable change of condition for the better, and her countenance 
 showed the less favourable effects of the twenty years which had 
 passed over her head, was in mind and manners very much what 
 she had been when she battled the opinions of Madam Ellesmere at 
 Martindale Castle. In a word, she was self-willed, obstinate, and 
 coquettish as ever, otherwise no ill-disposed person. Her present 
 appearance was that of a woman of the better rank. From the so- 
 briety of the fashion of her dress, and the uniformity of its colours, 
 it was plain she belonged to some sect which condemned super- 
 fluous gaiety in attire j but no rules, not those of a nunnery or of a 
 quaker's society, can prevent a little coquetry in that particular, 
 where a woman is desirous of being supposed to retain some claim 
 to personal allenlion. All Mistress Deborah's garments were so 
 arranged as might best set off a good-looking woman, whose coun- 
 
 • I am told that a portrait of the unfortunate William Christian is still preserved in 
 the family of Waterson of Ballnahow of Kirk Church, Rushin. William Dh6ne is dressed 
 in a green coat without collar or cape, after the fashion of those puritanic times, with 
 the head in a close-cropt wig, resembling the bishop's peruke of the present day. The 
 countenance is youthful and well looking, very unlike the expression of foreboding me- 
 lancholy. 1 have so far taken advantage of this criticism, as to bring my ideal portrait in 
 the present edition nearer to the complexion at least of the fair-haired William Dhdne. 
 
136 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 lenancc indicated ease and good cheer-— who called herself five-and- 
 ihirty, and was well entitled, if she had a mind, to call herself twelve 
 or fifteen years older. 
 
 Julian was under the necessity of enduring all her tiresome and 
 fantastic airs, and awaiting with patience till she had "prinked 
 herself and pinned herself — flung her hoods back, and drawn 
 Ihem forward — snuffed at a little bottle of essences, closed her eyes 
 like a dying fowl — turned them up like a duck in a thunderstorm ; 
 when at length, having exhausted her round of minauderies , she 
 condescended to open the conversation. 
 
 " These walks will be the death of me," she said, '' and all on 
 your account, Master Julian Peveril ^ for if Dame Christian should 
 learn that you have chosen to make your visits to her niece, I pro- 
 mise you Mistress Alice would be soon obliged to find other quarters, 
 and so should I." 
 
 '^ Come now, Mistress Deborah, be good-humoured," said Ju- 
 lian ; "consider, was not all this intimacy of ours of your own 
 making? Did you not make yourself known to me the very first 
 time I strolled up this glen with my fishing-rod, and tell me that 
 you were my former keeper, and that Alice had been my liltie play- 
 fellow? And what could there be more natural, than that I should 
 come back and see two such agreeable persons as often as I could ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Dame Deborah ^ " but I did not bid you fall in love 
 with us, though, or propose such a matter as marriage either to 
 Alice or myself." 
 
 " Todo you justice you never did, Deborah," answered the youth ^ 
 " but what of that? Such things will come out before one is aware. 
 I am sure you must have heard such proposals fifty times when you 
 least expected them." 
 
 " Fie, fie, fie. Master Julian Peveril," said the governante; " I 
 would have you to know that I have always so behaved myself, 
 that the best of the land would have thought twice of it, and have 
 \ery well considered both what he was going to say, and how he 
 was going to say it, before he came out with such proposals to me." 
 
 " True, true, Mistress Deborah," continued Julian ; " but all the 
 world have not your discretion. Then Alice Bridgenorth is a child 
 —a mere child \ and one always asks a baby to be one's little wife, 
 you know. Come, I know you will forgive me. Thou wert ever the 
 best-nalured, kindest woman in the world; and you know you 
 have said twenty times we were made for each other." 
 
 " O no, Master Julian Peveril ; no, no, no !" ejaculated Deborah. 
 " I may indeed have said your estates were born to be united ; and 
 to be sure it is natural to me, that come of the old stock of the ho- 
 nest yeomanry of Peveril of the Peak's estate, to wish that it was 
 all within the ring fence again; which sure cnougih it might be, 
 were you to marry Alice Bridgenorth. But then (here is the knight 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 137 
 
 your father, and my lady your molher-, and there is her falher, 
 that is half crazy >yilh his religion •, and her aunt, that wears elernal 
 black grograrn for that unlucky Colonel Christian ; and there is the 
 Countess of Derby, that would serve us all with the same sauce if 
 we were thinking of any thing that would displease her. And be- 
 sides all that, you have broke your word with Mistress Alice, and 
 every thing is over between you : and I am of opinion it is quite 
 right it should be all over. And perhaps it may be, Master Julian, 
 that I should have thought so a long time ago, before a child like 
 Alice put it into my head ^ but I am so good-natured." 
 
 No flatterer like a lover, who wishes to carry his point. 
 
 " You ere the best-natured, kindest creature in the world, De- 
 borah.— But you have never seen the ring I bought for you at Paris. 
 Nay, I will put it on your finger myself; what I your foster-son, 
 whom you loved so well, and took such care of I" 
 
 He easily succeeded in putting a pretty ring of gold, with a hu- 
 merous affectation of gallantry, on the fat finger of Mistress Debo- 
 rah Debbitch. Hers was a soul of a kind often to be met with, both 
 among the lower and higher vulgar, who, without being, on a broad 
 scale, accessible to bribes or corruption, are nevertheless much 
 attached to perquisites, and considerably biassed in their line of 
 duty, though perhaps insensibly, by the love of petty observances, 
 petty presents, and trivial compliments. Mistress Debbitch turned 
 the ring round, and round, and round, and at length said, in a 
 whisper, " Well, Master Julian Peveril, it signifies nothing denying 
 any thing to such a young gentleman as you, for young gentlemen 
 are always so obstinate I and so I may as well (ell you, that Mistress 
 Alice walked back from Kirk-Truagh along with me, just now, and 
 entered the house at the same time wilh myself." 
 
 '' Why did you not tell me so before?" said Julian, starling up ; 
 '' where — where is she?" 
 
 " You had better ask why I tell. you so now, Master Julian", said 
 Dame Deborah; ''for I promise you, it is against her express 
 commands; and I would not have told you, had you not looked 
 so pitiful ;— but as for seeing you, that she will not — and she is in 
 her own bedroom, with a good oak door shut and bolted upon her 
 — that is one comfort- — And so, as for any breach of trust on my 
 part — I promise you the lillle saucy minx gives it no less name — 
 it is quite impossible." 
 
 " Do not say so, Deborah — only go— only try — tell her to hear 
 me— tell her I have a hundred excuses for disobeying her commands 
 — tell her 1 have no doubt to get over all obstacles at Marlindale 
 Castle." 
 
 " Nay, 1 tell you it is all in vain," replied the dame. "When I 
 saw your cap and rod lying in the hall, I did but say, ' There he is 
 again,' and she ran up the stairs like a young deer; and I heard 
 
138 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 key turned, and bolls shot, ere I could say a single word to stop her 
 — I marvel you heard her not." 
 
 " It was because I am, as I ever was, an owl — a dreaming fool, 
 who let all those golden minutes pass, which my luckless life holds 
 out to me so rarely.— Well— tell her I go— go for ever— go where 
 she will hear no more of me — where no one shall hear more of me !" 
 
 "0, the Father! "said the dame, " hear how he talks!— What 
 ^ill become of Sir Geoffrey, and your mother, and of me, and of the 
 Countess, if you were to go so far as you talk of? And what would 
 become of poor Alice too? for I will be sworn she likes you beller 
 Ihan she says, and I know she used to sit and look the way that you 
 oised to come up the stream, and now and then ask me if the morning 
 were good for fishing. And all the while you were on the continent, 
 as they call it, she scarcely smiled once, unless it was when she got 
 two beautiful long letters about foreign parts." 
 
 " Friendship, Dame Deborah — only friendship — cold and calm 
 remembrance of one who, by your kind permission, stole in on your 
 soUtude now and then, with news from the living world without. 
 — Once, indeed, I thought — but it is all over— farewell." 
 
 So saying, he covered his face with one hand, and extended the 
 other, in the act of bidding adieu to Dame Debbitch, whose kind 
 heart became unable to withstand the sight of his affliction. 
 
 " Now, do not be in such haste," she said ^ " I will go up again, 
 and tell her how Uplands with you, and bring her down, if it is in 
 woman's power to do it." 
 
 And so saying, she left the apartment and ran up stairs. 
 
 Julian Peveril, meanwhile, paced the apartment in great agita- 
 tion, waiting the success of Deborah's intercession ; and she remained 
 long enough absent to give us time to explain, in a short retrospect, 
 the circumstances which had led to his present situation. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Note, p. 131. — PorutAR Pastimes in the Isle of Man. 
 
 Waldron menlions the two popular festivities in the Isle of Man which are alluded to 
 in the text, and vestiges of them are, I believe, slill to be traced in this singular island. 
 The Contest of Winter and Summer seems directly derived from the Scandinavians, long 
 the masters in Man, as Olaus Magnus mentions a similar festival among the northern 
 nations. On the lirst of May, he says, the country is divided into two bands, the captain 
 of one of which hath the name and appearance of Winter, is clothed in skins of beasts, 
 and he and his band armed with fire forks. They fling about ashes, by way of prolonging 
 the roign of Winter; while another band, whose captain is called Florro, represent 
 Spring, with green boughs, such as the season offers. These parties skirmish in sport, 
 and the mimic contest concludes with a general ie&sL— History of the Northern Nations, 
 by Olaus, Book xv. Chap. 2. 
 Waldron gives an account of a festival in Wales exactly similar : 
 " In almost all the great parishes, they choose from among the daughters of the most 
 wealthy farmers, a young maid, for the Queen of May. She is drest in the gayest and 
 best manner they can, and is attended by about twenty others, who arc called maids of 
 honour. She has also a young man, who is her captain, and has under his command a 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 139 
 
 good number of inferior officers. In opposition to her, is the Queen of Winter, who is a 
 man drest in woman's clothes, with woollen hoods, fur tippets, and loaded with the 
 warmest and heaviest habits, one upon another ; in the same manner are those, who re- 
 present her attendants, drest; nor is she without a captain and troop for her defence. 
 Both being equipt as proper emblems of the beauty of the spring, and the deformity of 
 the winter, they set forth from their respective quarters ; the one preceded by violins and 
 flutes, the other with the rough music of the tongs and cleavers. Both companies march 
 till they meet on a common, and then their trains engage in a mock battle. If the Queen 
 of Winter's forces get the better, so far as to take the Queen of May prisoner, she is ran- 
 somed for as much as pays the expenses of the day. After this ceremony. Winter and 
 her company retire, and divert themselves in a barn, and the others remain on the 
 green, where having danced a considerable lime, they conclude the evening with a feast ; 
 the queen at one table with her maids, the captain with his troop at another. There are 
 seldom less than fifty or sixty persons at each board, but not more than three or four 
 knives. Christmas is ushered in with a form much less meaning, and infinitely more 
 fatiguing. On the 24th of December, towards evening, all the servants in general have a 
 holiday; they go not to bed all night, but ramble about till the bells ring in all tbo 
 churches, whicli is at twelve o'clock; prayers being over, they go to hunt the wren, and 
 after having found one of these poor birds, Ihey kill her, and lay her on a bier with the 
 utmost solemnity, bringing her to the parish church, and burying her with a M'himsical 
 kind of solemnity, singing dirges over her in the Manx language, which they call her 
 knell ; after which Christmas begins. There is not a barn unoccupied the whole twelve 
 days, every parish hiring fiddlers at the public charge ; and all the youth, nay, sometimes 
 people well advanced in years, making no scruple to be among these nocturnal dancers." 
 — Waldron's Description of the Isle of Man, folio, I73i. 
 
 With regard to horse-racing in the Isle of Man, I am furnished with a certified copy 
 of the rules on which that sport was conducted, under the permission of the Earl of 
 Derby, in which the curious may see that a descendant of the unfortunate Christian 
 entered a horse for the prize. I am indebted for this curiosity to my kind friend, the 
 learned Dr. Dibdin. 
 
 1 Articles for the plate which is to be run for in the said island, being of the 
 MoN^*^ i'o/«e of five pounds sterling {the fashion included), given by the Pdght Ho- 
 I nourable William Earl of Derby, Lord of the said Isle, etc. 
 
 " ist. The said plate is to be run for upon the 28th day of July, in every year whiles his 
 honour is pleased to allow the same (being the day of the nativity of the Honourable 
 James Lord Strange), except it happen upon a Sunday, and if soe, the said plate is to 
 be ruu for upon the day following. 
 
 " 2d. That noe horse, gelding, or mair, shall be admitted to run for the said plate, but 
 such as was foaled within the said island, or in the Calfe of Mann. 
 
 *' 3d. That euery horse, gelding, or mair, that is designed to run, shall be entred at or 
 before the viiijth day of July, with his master's name and his owne, if he be generally 
 knowne by any, or els his collour, and whether horse, mair, or gelding, and that to 
 be done at the x comprs. office, by the cleark of the rolls for the time being. 
 
 *' Ath. That euery person that puts in either horse, mair, or gelding, shall, at the time of 
 their entring, depositt the sume of fine shill. apiece into the hands of the said clerk 
 of the rolls, which is to goe towards the augmenting of the plate for the year follow- 
 ing, besides one shill. apiece to be giuen by them to the said clerk of the rolls, for 
 entering their names, and engrossing these articles. 
 
 " 5th. That euery horse, mair, or gelding, shall carry horseman's weight, that is to say, 
 ten stone weight, at fourteen pounds to each stone, besides saddle and bridle. 
 
 *' 6th. That euery horse, mair, or gelding, shall haue a person for its tryer, to be named 
 by the owner of the said horse, mair, or gelding, which tryers are to have the com- 
 mand of the scales and weights, and to see that euery rider doe carry full weighty 
 according as is mentioned in the foregoing article, and especially that the winning 
 rider be soe with the usual allowance of one pound for. 
 
 " iih. That a person be assigned by the tryers to start the runinge horses, who are to run 
 for the said plate, betwixt the howers of one and three of the clock in the afternoon. 
 
 " 8th. That euery rider shall leave the two first powles which are sett up in Macybraes 
 close, in this manner following, that is to say, the first of the said two powles upon 
 his right hand, and the other upon his left hand; and the two powles by the rockes 
 are to be left upon the left hand likewise ; and the fifth powlc, w hich is sett up at the 
 lower end of the Conney-warren, to be left alsoc upon the left hand, and soe the 
 turning powle next to Wm. Loorcycs house to be left in like maner upon the left band, 
 
140 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 and the other two powles, leading to the ending powle, to be left upon the right hand ; 
 all which powles are to he left by the riders as aforesaid, excepting only the distance- 
 powle, which may be rid on cither hand, at the discretion of the rider," etc. etc. etc. 
 
 July idlh, IG87. 
 
 " The names of the persons who have entred their horses to run for the within plate 
 for this present year, 1687. 
 
 " Ro. Ileywood, Esq. Governor of this Isle, hath entered ane bay-gelding, 
 called by the name of Loggerhead, and hath deposited towards the augment- 
 ing of the plate for the next year, L.OO 05 oo 
 
 " Captain Tho. Iludlston hath entered one white gelding, called Snowball, and 
 hath deposited, 00 05 00 
 
 " Mr. William Faigler hath entred his gray gelding, called the Gray-Garraine, 
 and depositted, 00 05 00 
 
 " Mr. rsicho. Williams hath entred one gray stone horse, called the Yorkshire 
 gray and depositted, 00 05 00 
 
 " Mr. Demster Christian halh entred one gelding, called the Dapplegray, and 
 hath depositted, 00 05 00 
 
 " 28r/i /«Zy, 1687. 
 
 " Mesioranddm, 
 
 " That this day the above plate was run for by the foremencioned horse, and the same 
 was fairly won by the right worshipful governor's horse at the two first heales. 
 
 nth August, 1688. 
 
 *' Received this day the above , which I am to pay to my master to augment 
 
 J* plate, by me, 
 
 John Wood. 
 
 " It is my goodwill and pleasure yt y« 2 prizes formerly granted (by me) for horsruning 
 and shouting, shall continue as they did, lobe run, or shotfor, and soe to continue dureing 
 my good-will and pleasure. Given under my hand at Lathom, y* I2th of July, 1669. 
 
 " Derby. 
 
 " To my governor's deputy-governor, and y« 
 rest of my officers in my Isle of Man." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, 
 Could ever hear by tale or history. 
 The course of true love never did run smooth ! 
 Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 The celebraled passage which we have prefixed to this chapter, 
 has, like most observations of the same author, its foundation in 
 real experience. The period at which love is formed for the first 
 lime, and felt most strongly, is seldom that at which there is much 
 prospect of its being brought (o a happy issue. The stale of artificial 
 society opposes many complicated obstructions to early marriages-, 
 and the chance is very great, that such obstacles prove insurmoun- 
 table. In fine, there are few men who do not look back in secret to 
 some period of their youth, at which a sincere and early atTeclion 
 was repulsed, or betrayed, or became abortive from opposing cir- 
 cumstances. It is these little passages of secret history, which leave 
 a tinge of romance in every bosom, scarce pcrmilling us, even in 
 
PEVERIL or THE PEAK. 141 
 
 the most busy or Ihe most advanced period of life, to listen with 
 lolal indifference to a tale of true love. 
 
 ^ Julian Peveril had so fixed his affections, as (o ensure the fullest 
 share of that opposition which early allachmenis are so apt to en- 
 counter. Yet nothing so natural as that he should have done so. In 
 early youth, Dame Debbitch had accidentally met with the son of 
 her first patroness, and who had himself been her earliest charge, 
 fishing in the little brook already noticed, which watered the valley 
 in which she resided with Alice Bridgenorlh. The dame's curiosity 
 easily discovered who he was ; and besides the interest which per- 
 sons in her condition usually take in the young persons who have 
 been under their charge, she was delighted with the opportunity 
 to talk about former times — about Martindale Castle, and friends 
 there— about Sir Geoffrey and his good lady — and now and then, 
 about Lance Oulram the park-keeper. 
 
 The mere pleasure of gratifying her enquiries, would scarce 
 have had power enough to induce Julian to repeat his visits to the 
 lonely glen •, but Deborah had a companion — a lovely girl — bred 
 in solitude, and in the quiet and unpretending tastes which solitude 
 encourages — spirited also and inquisitive, and listening, with a 
 laughing cheek and an eager eye, to every tale which the young 
 angler brought from the town and castle. 
 
 The visits of Julian to the Black Fort were only occasional — so 
 far Dame Deborah showed common sense — which was perhaps, 
 inspired by ttie apprehension of losing her place, in case of dis- 
 covery. She had, indeed, great confidence in the strong and rooted 
 belief — amounting almost to superstition — which Major Bridge- 
 norlh entertained, that his daughter's continued health could only 
 be ensured by her continuing under the charge of one who had 
 acquired Lady Peveril's supposed skill in treating those subject to 
 such ailments. This belief Dame Deborah had improved to the 
 utmost of her simple cunning,— always speaking in something of 
 an oracular tone, upon the subject of her charge's health, and hint- 
 ing at certain mysterious rules necessary to maintain it in the pre- 
 sent favourable slate. She had availed herself of this artifice, to 
 procure for herself and Alice a separate establishment at the Black 
 Fort-, for it was originally Major Bridgenorth's resolution, that his 
 daughter and her governante should remain under the same roof 
 wilh the sister-in-law of his deceased wife, the widow of the un- 
 fortunate Colonel Christian. But this lady was broken down with 
 premature age, brought on by sorrow j and, in a short visit which 
 Major Bridgenorlh made to the island, he was easily prevailed on 
 to consider her house at Kirk-Truagh, as a very cheerless residence 
 for his daughter. Dame Deborah, who longed for domestic inde- 
 pendence, was careful to increase this impression by alarming her 
 patron's fears on account of Alice's health. The mansion of Kirk- 
 
142 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Truagh stood, she said, much exposed to ihe Scottish winds, which 
 could not but be cold, as they came from a country where, as she 
 was assured, there was ice and snow at midsummer. In short, sho 
 prevailed, and was put into full possession of the Black Fori, a 
 house which, as well as Kirk-Truagh belonged formerly to Christian, 
 and now to his widow. 
 
 Still, however, it was enjoined on the governanle and her charge, 
 to visit Kirk-Truagh from lime to time, and to consider themselves 
 as under the management and guardianship of Mistress Christian — 
 a stale of subjection, the sense of which Deborah endeavoured to 
 lessen, by assuming as much freedom of conduct as she possibly 
 dared, under the influence, doubtless, of Ihe same feelings of inde- 
 pendence, which induced her, atMarlindale-Hall, to spurn the ad- 
 vice of Mistress Ellesmere. 
 
 It was this generous disposition to defy control which induced 
 her to procure for Alice, secretly, some means of education, which 
 the stern genius of purilanism would have proscribed. She ven- 
 tured to have her charge taught music — nay, even dancing ; and the 
 picture of the austere Colonel Christian trembled on the wainscot 
 where it was suspended, while the sylph-like form of Alice, and 
 the substantial person of Dame Deborah, executed French chaussees 
 and borees, to the sound of a small kit, which screamed under the 
 bow of Monsieur de Pigal, half smuggler, half dancing-master. 
 This abomination reached the ears of Ihe Colonel's widow, and by 
 her was communicated to Bridgenorlh, whose sudden appearance 
 in Ihe island showed the importance he attached to the communi- 
 cation. Had she been faithless to her own cause, that had been the 
 latest hour of Mistress Deborah's administration. But she retreated 
 into her stronghold. 
 
 "Dancing," she said, '' was exercise, regulated and timed by 
 music ; and it stood to reason, that it must be the best of all exercise 
 for a delicate person, especially as it could be taken within doors, 
 and in all slates of the weather." 
 
 Bridgenorth listened^, with a clouded and thoughtful brow, when, 
 in exemplification of her doctrine. Mistress Deborah, who was no 
 contemptible performer on Ihe viol, began to jangle Sellenger's 
 Round, and desired Alice to dance an old English measure to the 
 tune. As the half-bashful, halt-smiling girl, about fourteen— for 
 such was her age— moved gracefully to the music, the father's eye 
 unavoidably followed the light spring of her step, and marked with 
 joy the rising colour in her cheek. When the dance was over, he 
 folded her in his arms, smoothed her somewhat disordered locks 
 with a father's affectionate hand, smiled, kissed her brow, and 
 took his leave, without one single word farther interdicting the 
 exercise of dancing. He did not himself communicate the result 
 of his Yisitat the Black Fort to Mistress Christian, but she was 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. l4.'l 
 
 not long of learning it, by the triumph of Dame Deborah on her 
 next visit. 
 
 " It is well," said the stern old lady • " my brother Bridgenorth 
 halh permitted you to make a Herodias of Alice, and leach her 
 dancing. You have only now to find her a partner for life — I shall 
 neither meddle nor make more in their affairs." 
 
 In fact, the triumph of Dame Deborah, or rather of Dame Nature, 
 on this occasion, had more important effects than the former had 
 ventured to anticipate ; for Mistress Christian, though she received 
 with all formality the formal visits of the governante and her charge, 
 seemed thenceforth so pettish with the issue of her remonstrance,^ 
 upon the enormity of her niece dancing to a little fiddle, that she 
 appeared to give up interference in her affairs, and left Dame Deb- 
 "bitch and Alice to manage both education and house-keeping — in 
 which she had hitherto greatly concerned herself— much after their 
 own pleasure. 
 
 It was in this independent state that they lived, when Julian first 
 \isited their habitation ; and he was the rather encouraged to do so 
 by Dame Deborah, that she believed him to be one of the last per- 
 sons in the world with whom Mistress Christian would have desired 
 her niece to be acquainted — the happy spirit of contradiction super- 
 seding, with Dame Deborah, on this as on other occasions, all con- 
 sideration of the fitness of things. She did not act altogether with- 
 out precaution neither. She was aware she had to guard not only 
 against any reviving interest or curiosity on the part of Mislress 
 Christian, but against the sudden arrival of Major Bridgenorth, 
 who never failed once in the year to make his appearance at the 
 Black Fort when least expected, and lo remain there for a few days. 
 Dame Debbitch, therefore, exacted of .Tulian, that his visits should 
 be few and far between ^ that he should condescend to pass for a 
 relation of her own, in the eyes of two ignorant Manx girls and a lad, 
 who formed her establishment 5 and that he should always appear in 
 his angler's dress made of the simple Lougthan, or buff-coloured 
 wool of the island, which is not subjected to dyeing. By these 
 cautions, she thought his intimacy at the Black Fort would be en- 
 tirely unnoticed, or considered as immaterial, while, in the mean- 
 time, it furnished much amusement to her charge and herself. 
 
 This was accordingly the case during the earlier part of their 
 intercourse, while Julian was a lad, and Alice a girl two or three 
 years younger. But as the lad shot up to youth, and the girl to 
 womanhood, even Dame Deborah Debbitch's judgment saw danger 
 in their continued intimacy. She took an opportunity to commu- 
 nicate to Julian who Miss Bridgenorth actually was, and the pecu- 
 liar circumstances which placed discord between their fathers. He 
 heard the story of their quarrel with interest and surprise, for he 
 had only resided occasionally at Martindale Castle, and the subject 
 
144 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 of Bridgenorlh's quarrel with his faiher liad never been mentioned 
 in his presence. His imagination caught fire at the sparks afforded 
 by this singular story ^ and, far from complying with the prudent 
 remonstrance of Dame Deborah, and gradually estranging himself 
 from the Black Fort and its fair inmate, he frankly declared, he 
 considered his intimacy there, so casually commenced, as intimat- 
 ing the will of Heaven, that Alice and he were designed for each 
 other, in spile of every obstacle which passion or prejudice could 
 raise up betwixt them. They had been companions in infancy ^ and 
 a little exertion of memory enabled him to recall his childish grief 
 for the unexpected and sudden disappearance of his little compa- 
 nion, whom he was destined again lo meet with in the early bloom 
 of opening beauty, in a country which was foreign to them bolh. 
 
 Dame Deborah was confounded at the consequences of her com* 
 municalion, which had thus blown into a flame the passion which 
 she hoped it would have either prevented or extinguished. She had 
 not the sort of head which resists the masculine and energetic re- 
 monslrances of passionate atlachment, whether addressed to her 
 on her own account, or on behalf of another. She lamented and 
 wondered, and ended her feeble opposition, by weeping, and sym- 
 pathizing, and consenting to allow the continuance of Julian's visits, 
 provided he should only address himself to Alice as a friend; to gain 
 the world, she would consent to nothing more. She was not, how- 
 ever so simple, but that she also had her forebodings of the designs 
 of Providence on (his youthful couple; for certainly they could not 
 be more formed to be united than the good estates of Marlindale 
 and Moullrassie. 
 
 Then came a long sequence of reflections. Martindale Castle 
 wanted but some repairs to be almost equal lo Chalsworlh. The 
 Hall might be allowed to go to ruin ; or, what would be better, 
 when Sir Geoffrey's lime came (for the good knight had seen ser- 
 vice, and must be breaking now), Ihe Hall would be a good dowery- 
 house, to which my lady and EUesmere might retreat; while (em- 
 press of the still-room, and queen of the pantry ) Mislress Deborah 
 Debbilch should reign housekeeper at the Castle, and extend, 
 perhaps, the crown-malrimonial to Lance Oulram, provided he 
 was not become too old, too fat, or too fond of ale. 
 
 Such were the soothing visions under the influence of which the 
 dame connived at an attachment, which lulled also to pleasing 
 dreams, though of a character so different, her charge and her 
 visitant. 
 
 The visits of the young angler became more and more frequent ; 
 and the embarrassed Deborah, though foreseeing all the dangers of 
 discovery, and the addilional risk of an explanation betwixt Alice 
 and Julian, which must necessarily render their relative situalion 
 so much more delicate, felt completely overborne by the enthu- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 145 
 
 siasm of the young lover, and was compelled to let matters take their 
 course. 
 
 The departure of Julian for the continent interrupted the course 
 of his intimacy at the Black Fort, and while it relieved the elder of 
 its inmates from much internal apprehension, spread an air of 
 languor and dejection over the countenance of the younger, which, 
 at Bridgenorth's next visit to the Isle of Man, renewed all his terrors 
 for his daughter's constitutional malady. 
 
 Deborah promised faithfully she should look better the next 
 morning, and she kept her word. She had retained in her possession 
 for some time a letter which Julian had, by some private con- 
 veyance, sent lo her charge, for his youthful friend. Deborah had 
 dreaded the consequences of delivering it as a billet-doux, but, as 
 in the case of the dance, she thought there could be no harm in 
 administering it as a remedy. 
 
 It had complete effect ^ and next day the cheeks of the maiden 
 had a tinge of the rose, which so much delighted her father, that, 
 as he mounted his horse, he flung his purse into Deborah's hand, 
 with the desire she should spare nothing that could make herself 
 and his daughter happy, and the assurance that she had his full 
 confidence. 
 
 This expression of liberahty and trust from a man of Major Bridge- 
 north's reserved and cautious disposition, gave full plumage to 
 Mistress Deborah's hopes; and emboldened her not only to deliver 
 another letter of Julian's to the young lady, but to encourage more 
 boldly and freely than formerly the intercourse of the lovers when 
 Peveril returned from abroad. 
 
 At length, in spite of all Julian's precaution, the young Earl be- 
 came suspicious of his frequent solitary fishing parties \ and he him- 
 self, now better acquainted with the world than formerly, became 
 aware that his repeated visits and solitary walks with a person so 
 young and beautiful as Alice, might not only betray prematurely 
 the secret of his atlachment, but be of essential prejudice to her 
 who was its object. 
 
 Under the influence cf this conviction, he abstained;, for an 
 unusual period, from visiting the Black Fort. But when he next 
 indulged himself with spending an hour in the place where he would 
 gladly have abode for ever, the altered manner of Alice — the tone 
 in which she seemed to upbraid his neglect, penetrated his heart, 
 and deprived him of that power of self-command, which he had 
 hitherto exercised in their interviews. It required but a few ener- 
 getic words to explain lo Alice at once his feelings, and to make her 
 sensible of the real nature of her own. She wept plentifully, but 
 her tears were not all of bitterness. She sat passively still, and 
 without reply, while he explained to her, with many an interjection, 
 the circumstances which had placed discord bclweeajheir families -, 
 
 10 
 
\4i) PEVERIL OF TilE PEAK. 
 
 for hilherlo, all Ihat she had ivnown was, that Master Peveril, 
 belonging to the household of the greot Countess or Lady of Man, 
 must observe some precautions in visiting a relative of the unhappy 
 Colonel Christian. But, when Julian concluded his tale with the 
 warmest prolestalions of eternal love, "My poor father!" she burst 
 forth, "and was this to be (he end of all thy precautions? — ^This, 
 that the son of him that disgraced and banished thee, should hold 
 such language to your daughter !'' 
 
 " You err, Alice, you err," cried Julian, eagerly. " That I hold 
 this language — that the son of Peveril addresses thus the daughter 
 of your faUier — that he (hus kneels to you for forgiveness of injuries 
 which passed when we were both itifants, shows the will of Heaven, 
 that in our affection should be quenched the discord of our parents. 
 What else could lead those who parted infants on the hills of Derby- 
 shire, to meet thus in the valleys of Man?" 
 
 Alice, however new such a scene, and, above all, her own emo- 
 tions, might be, was highly endowed with that exquisite delicacy 
 which is imprinted in the female heart, lo give warning of the 
 slightest approach to impropriety in a situation like hers. 
 
 "Rise, rise, Masler Peveril," she said ; " do not do yourself and 
 me this injustice — we have done both wrong — very wrong *, but my 
 fault was done in ignorance. O God ! my poor father, who needs 
 comfort so much — is it for me lo add to his misfortunes? — 
 Rise! " she added, more firmly^ 'Mf you retain this unbecoming 
 posture any longer, I will leave the room, and you shall never see 
 me more." 
 
 The commanding tone of Alice overawed the impetuosity of her 
 lover, who took in silence a seat removed to some distance from 
 hers, and was again about lo speak. "Julian^" she said, in a milder 
 tone, "you have spoken enough, and more than enough. Would 
 you had left me in the pleasing dream in which I could have listened 
 to you forever! but the hour of wakening is arrived." Peveril 
 waited the prosecution of her speech as a criminal while he waits 
 his doom •, for he was sufiicienlly sensible that an answer, delivered 
 not certainly without emotion, but with firmness and resolution, 
 was not to be interrupted. " We have dons wrong," she repeated, 
 " very wrong •, and if we now separate for ever, the pain we may 
 feel will be but a just penalty for our error. We should never have 
 met. Meeting, we should part as soon as possible. Our farther inter- 
 course can but double our pain at parting. Farewell, Julian ^ and 
 forget we ever have seen each other ! " 
 
 " Forget! " said Julian ^ "never, never. To you it is easy to 
 speak the word— to think the thought. To me, an approach to 
 either can only be by utter destruction, Why should you doubt 
 that the feud of our fathers, like so many of which we have heard, 
 might be appeased by our friendship? You are my only friend. 1=^ 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. l47 
 
 am the only one whom Heaven has assigned to you. Why should 
 we separate for the fault of others, which befell when we were but 
 children?" 
 
 "You speak in vain, Julian," said Alice: "I pity you— perhaps 
 I pity myself— indeed I should pity myself, perhaps, the most of 
 the two-, for you will go forth to new scenes and new faces, and 
 will soon forget me 5 but I, remaining in this solitude, how shall / 
 forget— that, however, is not now the question — I can bear my lot, 
 and it commands us to part." 
 
 " Hear me yet a moment," said Peveril ^ ''this evil is not, cannot 
 be remediless. I will go to my father— I will use the intercession 
 of my mother, to whom he can refuse nothing — I will gain their 
 consent — they have no other child — and they must consent, or lose 
 him for ever. Say, Alice, if I come to you with my parents' con- 
 sent to my suit, will you again say, with that lone so touching and 
 so sad, yet so incredibly determined — Julian, we must part?" 
 Alice was silent. "Cruel girl, will you not even deign to answer 
 me?" said her lover. 
 
 "We answer not those who speak in their dreams," said Alice. 
 "You ask me what I would do were impossibilities performed. 
 What right have you to make such suppositions, and ask such a 
 question?" 
 
 " Hope, Alice, Hope," answered Julian, " the last support of the 
 wretched, which even you surely would not be cruel enough to 
 deprive me of. In every difficulty, in every doubt, in every danger, 
 Hope will fight even if he cannot conquer. Tell me once more, if 
 I come to you in the name of my father — in the name of that 
 mother, to whom you partly owe your life, what would you answer 
 to me?" 
 
 "I would refer you to my own father,'' said Alice, blushing, 
 and casting her eyes down 5 but instantly raising them again, she 
 repeated, in a firmer and a sadder tone, "Yes, Julian, I would 
 refer you to my father ; and you would find that your pilot, Hope, 
 had deceived you ; and thai you had but escaped the quicksands 
 to fall upon the rocks." 
 
 " I would that could be tried!" said Julian. " Methinks I could 
 persuade your father that in ordinary eyes our alliance is not un- 
 desirable. My family have fortune, rank, long descent— all that 
 fathers look for when they bestow a daughter's hand." 
 
 "All this would avail you nothing," said Alice. "The spirit 
 of my father is bent upon Ihe things of another world ; and if he 
 listened to hear you out, it would be but to tell you that he spurned 
 your offers." 
 
 "You know not— you know not, Alice," said Julian. "Fire can 
 soften iron— thy father's heart cannot be so hard, or his prejudices 
 
148 PEVEHIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 SO Strong, but I shall find some means to melt him, Forbid me not 
 — O, forbid me not at least the experiment I " 
 
 " I can but advise," said Alice; "I can forbid you nothing; 
 for, to forbid, implies power to command obedience. But if you 
 will be wise, and listen to me — Here, and on this spot, we part 
 for ever I" 
 
 ''Not so, by Heaven!" said Julian, whose bold and sanguine 
 temper scarce saw difficulty in attaining aught which he desired. 
 " We now part indeed, but it is that I may return armed with my 
 parents' consent. They desire that I should marry — in their last 
 letters they pressed it more openly — they shall have their desire ; 
 and such a bride as I will present to them, has not graced their 
 house since the Conqueror gave it origin. Farewell, Alice! Fare- 
 well, for a brief space ! " 
 
 She replied, " Farewell, Julian I Farewell for ever ! " 
 
 Julian, within a week of this interview, was at Martindale Castle, 
 with the view of communicating his purpose. But the task which 
 seems easy at a distance, proves as difficult upon a nearer approach, 
 as the fording of a river, which from afar appeared only a brook. 
 There lacked not opportunities cf entering upon the subject ; for 
 in the first ride which he took with his father, the Knight resumed 
 the subject of his son's marriage, and liberally left the lady to his 
 choice ; but under the strict proviso, that she was of a loyal and an 
 honourable family ;— if she had fortune, it was good and well, or 
 rather, it was better than well ; but if she was poor, why, " there is 
 still some picking," said Sir Geoffrey, " on the bones of the old 
 estate; and Dame Margaret and I will be content with the less, that 
 you young folks may have your share of it. I am turned frugal 
 already, Julian. You see what a north-country shambling bit of a 
 Galloway nag I ride upon —a different beast, I wot, from my own 
 old Black Hastings, who had but one fault, and that was his wish to 
 turn down Moullrassie avenue." ; 
 
 '■' Was that so great a fault?" said Julian, affecting indifference, 
 while his heart was trembhng, as it seemed to him, almost in his 
 very throat. 
 
 " It used to remind me of that base, dishonourable Presbyterian 
 fellow, Bridgenorlh," said Sir Geoffrey ; " and I would as lief think 
 of a toad : — they say he has turned Independent, to accomplish the 
 full degree of rascality. — I tell you, Gill, I turned off the cowboy, 
 for gathering nuts in his woods — I would hang a dog that would so 
 much as kill a hare there. — But what is the matter with you? You 
 look pale." 
 
 JuUan made some indifferent answer, but too well understood, 
 from the language and lone which his father used, that his prejudices 
 against Alice's father were both deep and envenomed, as those of 
 country gentlemen often become, who, having little to do or think 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. l49 
 
 of, are but too apt lo spend their time in nursing and cherishing 
 pelly causes of wralh against their next neighbours. 
 
 In the course of the same day, he mentioned the Bridgenorths to 
 his mother, as if in a casual manner. But the Lady Peveril instantly 
 conjured him never lo mention the name, especially in his father's 
 presence. 
 
 " Was that Major Bridgenorth, of whom I have heard the name 
 mentioned," said Julian, " so very bad a neighbour?" 
 
 " I do not say so," said Lady Peveril 5 " nay, we were more than 
 once obliged to him, in the former unhappy times •, but your father 
 and he took some passages so ill at each other's hands, that the least 
 allusion to him disturbs Sir Geoffrey's temper in a manner quite 
 unusual, and which, now that his health is somewhat impaired, is 
 sometimes alarming lo me. For Heaven's sake, then, my dear Julian, 
 avoid upon all occasions the slightest allusion to Moultrassie, or any 
 of its inhabitants." 
 
 This warning was so seriously given, that Julian himself saw that 
 mentioning his secret purpose would be the sure way to render it 
 abortive, and therefore he returned disconsolate to the Isle. 
 
 Peveril had the boldness, however, lo make the best he could of 
 what had happened, by requesting an interview with Alice, in order 
 lo inform her what had passed betwixt his parents and him on her 
 account. It was with great difficulty that this boon was obtained ^ 
 and Alice Bridgenorth showed no slight degree of displeasure, 
 when she discovered, after much circumlocution, and many efforts 
 to give an air of importance to what he had to communicate, that 
 all amounted but to this, that Lady Peveril continued lo retain a 
 favourable opinion of her father, Major Bridgenorth, which Julian 
 would fain have represented as an omen of their future more per- 
 fect reconcihation. 
 
 " I did not think you would thus have trifled with me, Master 
 Peveril," said Alice, assuming an air of dignity ; '' but I will take 
 care to avoid such intrusion in future — I request you will not again 
 visit the Black Fort ^ and I entreat of you, good Mistress Debbitch, 
 Ihal you will no longer either encourage or permit this gentleman's 
 visits, as the result of such persecution will be to compel me to ap- 
 peal to my aunt and father for another place of residence, and per- 
 haps also for another and more prudent companion." 
 
 This last hint struck Mistress Deborah with so much terror, that 
 she joined her ward in requiring and demanding Julian's instant 
 absence, and he was obliged lo comply with their request. But the 
 courage of a youthful lover is not easily subdued^ and Julian, after 
 having gone through the usual round of trying to forget his un- 
 grateful mistress, and again entertaining his passion with augmented 
 violence, ended by the visit lo the Black Fort, Ihc beginning of which, 
 wc narrated in the last chapter. 
 
150 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 We then left him anxious for, yet almost fearful of, an interview 
 with Alice, which he had prevailed upon Deborah to solicit ; and 
 such was the tumult of his mind, that while he traversed the par- 
 lour, it seemed to him that the dark melancholy eyes of the slaugh- 
 tered Christian's portrait followed him wherever he went, with the 
 fixed, chill, and ominous glance, which announced to the enemy 
 of his race mishap and misfortune. 
 
 The door of the apartment opened at length, and these visions 
 were dissipated. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Parents have flinty hetirtsl No tears can move them. 
 
 Otwat. 
 
 When Alice Bridgenorth at length entered the parlour where her 
 anxious lover had so long expected her, it was with a slow step, 
 and a composed manner. Her dress was arranged with an accurate 
 attention to form, which at once enhanced the appearance of its 
 puritanic simplicity, and struck Julian as a bad omen ; for although 
 the time bestowed upon the toilet may, in many cases, intimate the 
 wish to appear advantageously at such an interview, yet a cere- 
 monious arrangement of attire is very much allied with formality, 
 and a preconceived determination to treat a lover with cold po- 
 liteness. 
 
 The sad-coloured gown — the pinched and plaited cap, which 
 carefully obscured the profusion of long dark-brown hair— the small 
 ruff, and the long sleeves, would have appeared to great disadvantage 
 on a shape less graceful than Alice Bridgenorth's ; but an exquisite 
 form, though not, as yet, suificiently rounded in the outlines to 
 produce the perfection of female beauty, was able to sustain and 
 give grace even to this unbecoming dress. Her countenance, fair 
 and delicate, with eyes of hazel, and a brow of alabaster, had, not- 
 withstanding, less regular beauty than her form, and might have 
 been justly subjected to criticism. There was, however, a life and 
 spirit in her gaiety, and a depth of sentiment in her gravity, which 
 made Alice, in conversation with the very few persons with whom 
 she associated, so fascinating in her manners and expression, whether 
 of language or countenance — so touching, also, in her simplicity 
 and purity of thought, that brighter beauties might have been over- 
 looked in her company. It was no wonder, therefore, that an ardent 
 character like Julian, influenced by these charms, as well as by the 
 secrecy and mystery attending his intercourse with Alice, should 
 prefer the recluse of the Black Fort to all others with whom he had 
 become acquainted in general society. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK- 151 
 
 His heart beat tiigti as she came into the apartment, and it was 
 ahnost wilhoul an attempt to speak that his profound obeisance 
 acknowledged her entrance. 
 
 " This is a mockery, Master Peveril," said Alice, with an effort 
 to speak firmly, which yet was disconcerted by a slightly tremulous 
 infleclion of voice — " a mockery, and a cruel one. You come to 
 this lone place, inhabited only by two women, too simple to com- 
 mand your absence — too weak to enforce it — you come in spile of 
 ray earnest request — to the neglect of your own lime — to the pre- 
 judice, I may fear, of my character — you abuse the influence you 
 possess over the simple person to whom I am intrusted — All this 
 you do, and think to make it up by low reverences and constrained 
 courtesy ! Is this honourable, or is it fair? — Is it," she added, afier 
 a moment's hesitation — " is it kind ? " - 
 
 The tremulous accent fell especially on the last word she uttered, 
 and it was spoken in a low tone of gentle reproach, which went to 
 Julian's heart. 
 
 " If," said he, '' there were a mode by which, at the peril of my 
 life, Alice, I could show my regard — my respect— my devoted 
 tenderness — the danger would be dearer to me than ever was 
 pleasure." 
 
 " You have said such things often," said Alice, " and they are 
 such as I ought not to hear, and do not desire to hear. I have no 
 tasks to impose on you—no enemies to be destroyed— no need or 
 desire of protection — no wish. Heaven knows, to expose you to 
 danger— It is your visits here alone to which danger attaches. You 
 have but to rule your own wilful temper' — to turn your thoughts 
 and your cares elsewhere, and I can have nothing to ask — nothing 
 to wish for. Use your own reason- — consider the injury you do your- 
 self—the injustice you do us — and let me, once more, in fair terms, 
 entreat you to absent yourself from this place — till — till" — — 
 
 She paused, and Julian eagerly interrupted her. — "Till when, 
 Alice? — till when? — impose on me any length of absence which 
 your severity can inflict, short of a final separation — Say, Begone 
 for years, but return when these years are over ; and, slow and 
 wearily as they must pass away, still the thought, that they must 
 at length have their period, will enable me to live through them. 
 Let me, then, conjure thee, Alice, to name a date — to fix a term — to 
 say till Wie/z/" 
 
 "Till you can bear to think of me only as a friend and sister." 
 
 " That is a sentence of eternal banishment indeed I" said Julian ; 
 " it is seeming, no doubt, to fix a term of exile, but attaching to it 
 an impossible condition." 
 
 "And why impossible, Julian?" said Alice, in a tone of per- 
 suasion ^ " were we net happier ere you threw the mask from your 
 own countenance, and tore the veil IVom my foolish eyes? Did we 
 
152 PliVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 not meet with joy, spend our time happily, and part cheerily, 
 because we transgressed no duty, and incurred no self-reproach ? 
 Bring back that state of happy ignorance, and you shall have no 
 reason to call me unkind. But while you form schemes which I 
 know to be visionary, and use language of such violence and pas- 
 sion, you shall excuse me if I now, and once for all, declare, that 
 since Deborah shows herself unfit for the trust reposed in her, and 
 must needs expose me to persecutions of this nature, I will write 
 to my father, that he may fix me another place of residence :, and 
 in the meanwhile I will take shelter with my aunt at Kirk-Truagh." 
 " Hear me, unpitying girl," said Peveril, "hear me, and you 
 shall see how devoted I am to obedience, in all that I can do to 
 oblige you ! You say you were happy when we spoke not on such 
 topics— well— at all expease of my own suppressed feelings, that 
 happy period shall return. I will meet you — walk with you — 
 read with you — but only as a brother would with his sister, or a 
 friend with his friend ^ the thoughts I may nourish, be they of hope 
 or of despair, my tongue shall not give birth to, and therefore I 
 cannot offend ^ Deborah shall be ever by your side, and her pre- 
 sence shall prevent my even hinting at what might displease you 
 — only do not make a crime to me of those thoughts which are 
 the dearest part of my existence \ for believe me it were better and 
 kinder to rob me of existence itself." 
 
 " This is the mere ecstasy of passion, Julian," answered Alice 
 Bridgenorth ; " that which is unpleasant, our selfish and stubborn 
 will represents as impossible. I have no confidence in the plan 
 you propose — no confidence in your resolution, and less than none 
 in the protection of Deborah. Till you can renounce, honestly 
 and explicitly, the wishes you have lately expressed, we must be 
 strangers ^ — and could you renounce them even at this moment, it 
 were better that we should part for a long time ^ and for Heaven's 
 sake, let it be as soon as possible — perhaps it is even now too late 
 to prevent some unpleasant accident— I thought I heard a noise." 
 " It was Deborah," answered Julian. " Be not afraid, Alice; 
 we are secure against surprise." 
 
 "I know not," said Alice, "what you mean by such security 
 — I have nothing to hide. I sought not this interview ; on the 
 contrary, averted it as long as I could — and am now most desirous 
 to break it off." 
 
 "And wherefore, Alice, since you say it must be our last? 
 Why should you shake the sand which is passing so fast ? the very 
 executioner hurries not the prayers of the wretches upon the 
 scaffold.-— And see you not— I will argue as coldly as you can desire 
 — sec you not that you are breaking your own word, and recalling 
 the hope which yourself held out to me ?" 
 
 "What hope have I suggested? What word have I given, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 153 
 
 Julian?" answered Alice. " You yourself build wild iiopes in the 
 air, and accuse me of destroying what had never any earthly foun- 
 dation. Spare yourself, Julian— spare me — and, in mercy to us 
 both, depart, and return not again till you can be more rea- 
 sonable." 
 
 "Reasonable?" replied Julian; "it is you, Alice, who will 
 deprive me altogether of reason. Did you not say, that if our 
 parents could be brought to consent to our union, you would no 
 longer oppose my suit?" 
 
 " No — no— no," said Alice, eagerly, and blushing deeply, — " I 
 did not say so, Julian — it was your own wild imagination which 
 put construction on my silence and my confusion." 
 
 " You do not say so, then ? " answered Julian ; " and if all other 
 obstacles were removed, I should find one in the cold flinty bosom 
 of her, who repays the most devoted and sincere affection with 
 contempt and dislike? — Is that," he added, in a deep tone of feeling 
 — " is that what Alice Bridgenorth says to Julian Peveril?" 
 
 " Indeed — indeed, Julian," said the almost weeping girl, " I do 
 not say so — I say nothing, and I ought not to say any thing con- 
 cerning what I might do, in a state of things which can never take 
 place. Indeed, Julian, you ought not thus to press me. Unpro- 
 tected as I am — wishing you well — very well — why should you 
 urge me to say or do what would lessen me in my own eyes ? to 
 own affection for one from whom fate has separated me for ever ? 
 It is ungenerous — it is cruel — it is seeking a momentary and selfish 
 gratification to yourself, at the expense of every feeling which I 
 ought to entertain." 
 
 "You have said enough, Alice," said Julian, with sparkling 
 eyes; "you have said enough in deprecating my urgency, and I 
 will press you no farther. But you overrate the impediments which 
 lie betwixt us — they must and shall give way." 
 
 " So you said before," answered Alice, " and with what proba- 
 bility, your own account may show. You dared not to mention 
 the subject to your own father — how should you venture to mention 
 it to mine?" 
 
 " That I will soon enable you to decide upon. Major Bridge- 
 north, by my mother's account, is a worthy and an estimable man. 
 I will remind him, that to my mother's care he owes the dearest 
 treasure and comfort of his life ; and I will ask him if it is a just 
 retribution to make that mother childless. Let me but know where 
 to find him, Alice, and you shall soon hear if I have feared to plead 
 my cause with him." 
 
 " Alas! " answered Alice, "you well know my uncertainty as to 
 my dear father's residence. How often has it been my earnest 
 request to him that he would let me share his solitary abode, or 
 his obscure wanderings ! Bui the short and infrequent visits which 
 
154 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 he makes to this house are all that he permits me of his society. 
 Something I might surely do, however little, to alleviate the me- 
 lancholy by which he is oppressed." 
 
 " Something we might both do," said Peveril. " How willingly 
 would I aid you in so pleasing a task ! All old grief should be for- 
 gotten — all old friendships revived. My father's prejudices are 
 those of an Englishman — strong, indeed, but not insurnioimtable 
 by reason. Tell me, then, where Major Bridgenorth is, and leave 
 the rest to me ^ or let me but know by what address your letters 
 reach him, and I will forthwith essay to discover his dweUing." 
 
 " Do not attempt it, I charge you," said Alice. " He is already 
 a man of sorrows 5 and what would he think were I capable of en- 
 terlaining a suit so likely to add to them? Besides I could not 
 tell you, if I would, where he is now to be found. My letters 
 reach him from time to time, by means of my aunt Christian ^ but 
 of his address I am entirely ignorant." 
 
 " Then, by Heaven," answered Julian, " I will watch his arrival 
 in this island, and in this house ^ and ere he has locked thee in his 
 arms, he shall answer to me on the subject of my suit." 
 
 *'Then demand that answer now" — said a voice from without 
 the door, which was at the same time slowly opened — "Demand 
 that answer now, for here stands Ralph Bridgenorth." 
 
 As he spoke, he entered the apartment with his usual slow and 
 sedate step— raised his flapp'd and steeple-crowned hat from his 
 brows, and, standing in the midst of the room, eyed alternately 
 his daughter and Julian Peveril with a fixed and penetrating 
 glance. 
 
 "Father!" said Alice, utterly astonished, and terrified besides, 
 by his sudden appearance at such a conjuncture, — " Father, I am 
 not to blame.' 
 
 "Of that anon, AUce," said Bridgenorth^ " meantime retire to 
 your apartment — I have that to say to this youth which will not 
 endure your presence." 
 
 " Indeed — indeed, father," said Alice, alarmed at what she sup- 
 posed these words indicated, "Julian is as little to be blamed as I ! 
 It was chance, it was fortune, which caused our meeting together." 
 Then suddenly rushing forward, she threw her arms around her 
 father, saying, "0 do him no injury— he meant me no wrong I 
 Father, you were wont to be a man of reason and of religious 
 peace." 
 
 " And wherefore should I not be so now, Alice?" said Bridge- 
 north, raising his daughter from the ground, on which she had 
 almost sunk in the earnestness of her supplication. " Dost thou 
 know aught, maiden, which should inflame my anger against this 
 young man, more than reason or religion may bridle ! Go — go^ 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 155 
 
 to thy chamber. Compose thine own passions — learn to rule these 
 — and leave it to me to deal with this stubborn young man." 
 
 Alice arose, and with her eyes fixed on the ground, retired 
 slowly from the apartment. Julian followed her steps with his eyes 
 till the last wave of her garment was visible at the closing door ; 
 then turned his looks to Major Bridgenorth, and then sunk them 
 on the ground. The Major continued to regard him in profound 
 silence ; his looks were melancholy and even austere •, but there 
 was nothing which indicated either agitation or keen resentment. 
 He motioned to Julian to take a seat, and assumed one himself. 
 After which, he opened the conversation in th6 following manner : — 
 
 "You seemed but now, young gentleman, anxious to learn where 
 I was to be found. Such I at least conjectured, from the few expres- 
 sions which I chanced to overhear ; for I made bold, though it may be 
 contrary to the code of modern courtesy, to listen a moment or two, 
 in order to gather upon what subject so young a man as you en- 
 tertained so young a woman as Alice, in a private interview." 
 
 " I trust, sir," said Julian, rallying spirits in what he felt to be 
 a case of extremity, " you have heard nothing on my part which 
 has given offence to a gentleman, whom, tlwugh unknown, I am 
 bound to respect so highly." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Bridgenorth, with the same formal 
 gravity, '' I am pleased to find that your business is, or appears to 
 be, with me, rather than with my daughter. I only think you had 
 done better to have intrusted it to me in the first instance, as my 
 sole concern." 
 
 The utmost sharpness of attention which Julian applied, could 
 not discover if Bridgenorth spoke seriously or ironically to the 
 above purpose. He was, however, quick-willed beyond his expe- 
 rience, and was internally determined to endeavour to discover 
 something of the character and Ihe temper of him with whom he 
 spoke. For that purpose, regulating his reply in the same lone 
 with Bridgenorth's observation, he said, that not having Ihe ad- 
 vantage to know his place of residence, he had applied for informa- 
 tion to his daughter. 
 
 "Who is now known to you for the first time?" said Bridgenorth. 
 " Am I so to understand you?" 
 
 " By no means," answered Julian, looking down ^ " I have been 
 known to your daughter for many years-, and what I wished to say, 
 respects both her happiness and my own." 
 
 "I must understand you," said Bridgenorth, " even as carnal 
 men understand each other on the matters of this world. You are 
 attached to my daughter by the cords of love^ I have long known 
 this." 
 
 "You, Master Bridgenorth?" exclaimed Peveril—" Tom have 
 long known it?" 
 
156 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 "Yes, young man. Think you, that as the father of an only 
 child, I could have suffered Alice Bridgenorlh— the only living 
 pledge of her who is now an angel in Heaven — to have remained 
 in this seclusion without the surest knowledge of all her material 
 actions? I have, in person, seen more, both of her and of you, 
 than you could be aware of, and when absent in the body, I had 
 the means of maintaining the same superintendence. Young man, 
 they say that such love as you entertain for my daughter teaches 
 much sublilily ; but believe not that it can overreach the alYection 
 which a widowed father bears to an only child." 
 
 '' If," said Julian, his heart beating thick and joyfully, " if you 
 have known Ihis intercourse so long, may I not hope that it has not 
 met your disapprobation?" 
 
 The Major paused for an instant, and then answered, " In some 
 respects, certainly not. Had it done so— had there seemed aught 
 on your side, or on my daughter's, to have rendered your visits 
 here dangerous to her, or displeasing to me, she had not been long 
 the inhabitant of this solitude, or of this island. But be not so hasty 
 as to presume, that all which you may desire in this matter can be 
 easily or speedily accomplished." 
 
 'M foresee, indeed, difficulties," answered Julian^ "but with 
 your kind acquiescence, they are such as I trust to remove. My 
 father is generous — my mother is candid and liberal. They loved 
 you once-, I trust they will love you again. I will be the mediator 
 betwixt you— peace and harmony shall once more inhabit our neigh- 
 bourhood, and" 
 
 Bridgenorth interrupted him with a grim smile-, for such it 
 seemed, as it passed over a face of deep melancholy. " My daugh- 
 ter well said, but short while past, that you were a dreamer of 
 dreams — an architect of plans and hopes fantastic as the visions of 
 the night. It is a great thing you ask of me ; — the hand of my only 
 child — the sum of my worldly substance, though that is but dross in 
 comparison. You ask the key of the only fountain from which I 
 may yet hope to drink one pleasant draught -, you ask to be the sole 
 and absolute keeper of my earthly happiness — and what have you 
 offered, or what have you to offer, in return of the surrender you 
 require of me?" 
 
 " I am but too sensible," said Peveril, abashed at his own hasty 
 conclusions, " how difficult it may be." 
 
 " Nay, but interrupt me not," replied Bridgenorth, " till I show 
 you the amount of what you offer me in exchange for a boon, which, 
 whatever may be its intrinsic value, is earnestly desired by you, 
 and comprehends all that is valuable on earth which I have it in 
 my power to bestow. — You may have heard, that in the late times 
 I was the antagonist of your father's principles and his profane fac- 
 tion, but not the enemy of his person. ' 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 157 
 
 *' I have ever heard," replied Julian, '• much the conlrary ; and 
 il was but now that I reminded you that you had been his friend." 
 
 "Ay. When he was in affliction, and I in prosperity, I was 
 neither unwilling, nor altogether unable, to show myself such. 
 Well, the tables are turned — the times are changed. A peaceful and 
 unoffending man might have expected from a neighbour, now^ 
 powerful in his turn, such protection, when walking in the paths 
 of the law, as all men, subjects of the same realm, have a right to 
 expect even from perfect strangers. What chances? I pursue, with 
 the warrant of the King and law, a murderess, bearing on her hand 
 the blood of my near connexion, and I had, in such a case, a right 
 to call on every liege subject to render assistance to the execution. 
 My late friendly neighbour, bound, as a man and a magistrate, to 
 give ready assistance to a legal action — bound, as a grateful and 
 obliged friend, to respect my rights and my person — thrusts him- 
 self betwixt me — me, the avenger of blood— and my lawful captive; 
 beats me to the earth, at once endangering my life, and, in mere 
 human eyes, sullying mine honour; and, under his protection, the 
 Midianitish woman reaches, like a sea-eagle, the nest which she 
 hath made in the wave-surrounded rocks, and remains there till 
 gold, duly administered at Court, wipes out all memory of her 
 crime, and baffles the vengeance due to the memory of the best and 
 bravest of men. — But," he added, apostrophizing the portrait of 
 Christian, "thou art not yet forgotten, my fair-haired William! 
 The vengeance which dogs thy murderers is slow, — but it is sure I" 
 
 There was a pause of some moments, which Julian Peveril, 
 willing to hear to what conclusion Major Bridgenorth was finally 
 to arrive, did not care to interrupt. Accordingly, in a few minutes, 
 the latter proceeded.—" These things," he said, " I recall not in 
 bitterness, so far as they are personal to me — I recall them not in 
 spite of heart, though they have been the means of banishing me 
 from my place of residence, where my fathers dwelt, and where my 
 earthly comforts lie interred. But the public cause sets farther strife 
 betwixt your father and me. Who so active as he to execute the 
 fatal edict of black St. Bartholomew's day, when so many hundreds 
 of gospel-preachers were expelled from house and home — from 
 hearth and altar — from church and parish, to make room for belly- 
 gods and thieves? Who, when a devoted few of the Lord's people 
 were united to lift the fallen standard, and once more advance the 
 good cause, was the readiest to break their purpose — to search for, 
 persecute, and apprehend them? Whose breath did I feel warm on 
 my neck— -whose naked sword was thrust within a fool of my body, 
 whilst I lurked darkling, like a thief in concealment, in the house 
 of my fathers? — It was Geoffrey Peveril's— it was your father's? — 
 What can you answer to all this, or how can you reconcile it with 
 your present wishes?" 
 
l58 PEVEUIL OF THE PE.\K. 
 
 Julian, in reply, could only remark, " That these injuries had 
 been of long standing* — that they had been done in heat of times, 
 and heat of temper, and that Master Bridgenorth, in Christian 
 kindness, should not enlertain a keen resentment of them, when a 
 door was open for reconciliation." 
 
 " Peace, young man," said Bridgenorlh, " thou speakesl of thou 
 knowest not what. To forgive our human wrongs is Chrislian-like 
 and commendable; but we have no commission to forgive those 
 which have been done to the cause of religion and of liberty ; we 
 have no right to grant immunity, or to shake hands with (hose, 
 who have poured forth the blood of our brethren." He looked at 
 the picture of Christian, and was silent for a few minutes, as if he 
 feared to give too violent way to his own impetuosity, and resumed 
 the discourse in a milder tone. 
 
 " These things I point out to you, Julian, that I may show you 
 how impossible, in the eyes of a merely worldly man, would be the 
 union which you are desirous of. But Heaven hath at limes opened 
 a door, where man beholds no means of issue. Julian, your mother, 
 for one to whom the truth is unknown, is, after the fashion of the 
 world, one of the best, and one of the wisest of women ; and pro- 
 vidence, which gave her so fair a form, and tenanted that form with 
 a mind as pure as the original frailly of our vile nature will permit, 
 means not, I trust, that she shall continue to the end to be a vessel 
 of wrath and perdition. Of your father I say nothing — he is what 
 the times and example of others, and the counsels of his lordly 
 priest, have made him ; and of him, once more, I say nothing, save 
 that I have power over him, which ere now he might have felt, but 
 thai there is one within his chambers, who might have suffered in 
 his suffering. Nor do I wish to root up your ancient family. If I 
 prize not your boast of family honours and pedigree, I would not 
 willingly destroy them ^ more than I would pull down a moss-grown 
 lower, or hew to the ground an ancient oak, save for the straighten- 
 ing of the common path, and the advantage of the public. I have, 
 therefore, no resentment against the humbled House of Peveril — 
 nay, I have regard to it in its depression." 
 
 He here made a second pause, as if he expected Julian to say 
 somelhing. But notwithstanding the ardour with which the young 
 man had pressed his suit, he was too much trained in ideas of the 
 importance of his family, and in the better habit of respect for his 
 parents, to hear, without displeasure, some part of Bridgenorlh's 
 discourse. 
 
 " The House of Peveril," he replied, "^ was never humbled." 
 
 '' Had you said the sons of that House had never been humble ,' 
 answered Bridgenorlh, " you would have come nearer the truth. — 
 Are you not humbled? Live you not here, the lackey of a haughty 
 woman, the play-companion of an empty youth? If you leave this 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 159 
 
 Isle, and go lo the Court of England, see what regard will there be 
 paid to the old pedigree that deduces your descent from kings and 
 conquerors. A scurril or obscene jest, an impudent carriage, a 
 laced cloak, a handful of gold, and the readiness to wager it on a 
 card, or a die, will better advance you at the Court of Charles, Ihan 
 your father's ancient name, and slavish devotion of blood and for- 
 tune to the cause of AiV father." 
 
 " That is, indeed, but too probable, " said Peveril; " but the 
 Court shall be no element of mine. I will live like my fathers, 
 among my people, care for their comforts, decide (heir differ- 
 ences" — ~ 
 
 " Build Maypoles, and dance around them," said Bridgenorth, 
 with another of those grim smiles which passed over his features 
 like the light of a sexton's torch, as it glares and is reflected by the 
 window of the church, when he comes from locking a funeral vault, 
 " No, Julian, these are not limes in which, by the dreaming drud- 
 gery of a country magistrate, and the petty cares of a country pro- 
 prietor, a man can serve his unhappy country. There are mighty 
 designs afloat, and men are called lo make Iheir choice betwixt God 
 and Baal. The ancient superstition — the abomination of our fathers 
 —is raising its head, and flinging abroad its snares, under the pro- 
 tection of Ihe princes of the earth ; but she raises not her head un- 
 marked or unwatched; (he true English hearts are as thousands, 
 which wail but a signal to arise as one man, and show the kings of 
 Ihe earlh that they have combined in vain I We will cast their 
 cords from us— the cup of Iheir abominations we will not lasle." 
 
 *■' You speak in darkness. Master Bridgenorth," said Peveril. 
 " Knowing so much of me, you may, perhaps, also be aware, that 
 I at least have seen too much of the delusions of Rome, to desire 
 that they should be propagated at home." 
 
 " Else, whertfore do I speak to thee friendly and so free?" said 
 Bridgenorth. " Do I not know, with what readiness of early wit 
 you baffled the wily attempts of the woman's priest, lo seduce thee 
 from the Protestant faith? Do 1 not know, how thou wast beset 
 when abroad, and that thou didst both hold thine own faith, and 
 secure the wavering belief of thy friend? Said I not, this was done 
 like the son of Margaret Peveril? Said I not, he holdeth, as yet, 
 but the dead letter — but the seed which is sown shall one day 
 sprout and quicken? -Enough, however, of Ihis. For lo-day Ihis 
 is Ihy habitation. I will see in thee neither the servant of that 
 daughter of Eshbaal, nor the son of him who pursued my life, and 
 blemished my honours ; but Ihou shall be to me, for this day, as the 
 child of her without whom my house had been. extinct." 
 
 So saying, he stretched out his thin, bony hand, and grasped 
 that of Julian Peveril j but there was such a look of mourning in 
 his welcome, that whatever delight the youth anticipated, spending 
 
160 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 SO long a time in tiie neighbourhood of Alice Bridgenorlh, perhaps 
 in her society, or however strongly he felt the prudence of conci- 
 liating her father's good-will, he could not help feeling as if his 
 heart was chilled in his company. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 This day at least is friendship's— on the morrow 
 Let strife come an she will. 
 
 Otway. 
 
 Deborah Debbitch, summoned by her master, now made her 
 appearance, with a handkerchief at her eyes, and an appearance ' 
 of great mental trouble. " It was not my fault. Major Bridge- 
 north," she said 5 " how could I help it? like will to like — the boy 
 would come — the girl would see him." 
 
 *' Peace, foolish woman," said Bridgenorlh, " and hear what 
 I have got to say." 
 
 '* I know what your honour has to say well enough," said De- 
 borah. *' Service, I wot, is no inheritance now-a-days — some are 
 wiser than other some — if I had not been wheedled away from 
 Martindale, I might have had a house of mine own by this lime." 
 "Peace, idiot I" said Bridgenorlh ^ but so intent was Deborah 
 on her vindication, that he could but thrust the interjection, as it 
 were edgewise, between her exclamations, which followed as thick 
 as is usual in cases where folk endeavour to avert deserved censure 
 by a clamorous justification ere the charge be brought. 
 
 "No wonder she was cheated," she said, " out of sight of her 
 own interest, when it was to wait on pretty Miss Alice. All your 
 honour's gold should never have templed me, but that I knew she 
 was but a dead castaway, poor innocent, if she were taken away 
 from my lady or me. — And so this is the end on'll — up early, and 
 down late — and this is all my thanks I — But your honour had belter 
 lake care what you do — she has the short cough yet sometimes — 
 and should take physic, spring and fall." 
 
 " Peace, chattering fool!" said her master, so soon as her failing 
 
 breath gave him an opportunity to strike in, " thinkcst thou I 
 
 Knew not of this young gentleman's visits to the Black Fort, and 
 
 That, if they had displeased me, I would not have known how to 
 
 stop them?" 
 
 " Did I know that your honour knew of his visits!" exclaimed 
 Deborah, in a triumphant tone, — for, like most of her condition, 
 she never sought farther for her defence than a lie, however in- 
 consistent and improbable—" Did I know that your honour knew 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. l6l 
 
 of il! — Why, how should I have permilted his visits else? I won- 
 der what your honour lakes ine fori Had I not been sure it was 
 the thing in this world Ihat your honour most desired, would I 
 have presumed to lend it a hand forward? I trust I know my duty 
 better. Hear if I ever asked another youngster into the house, save 
 himself — for I knew your honour was wise, and quarrels cannot 
 last for ever, and love begins where hatred ends; and, to be sure, 
 they look as if they were born one for the other — and then, the 
 estates of Moultrassie and Martindale suit each other like sheath 
 and knife." -r 
 
 '' Parrot of a woman, hold your tongue!" said Bridgenorth, his 
 patience almost completely exhausted-, "or, if you will prate, let 
 il be to your playfellows in the kitchen, and bid them get ready 
 some dinner presently, for Master Peveril is far from home." 
 
 " That I will, and with all my heari," said Deborah ; '• and if 
 there are a pair of fatter fowls in Man than shall clap their wings on 
 the table presently, your honour shall call me goose as well as par- 
 rot." She then left the apartment. 
 
 "' It is to such a woman as that," said Bridgenorth, looking after 
 her significantly, " that you conceived me to have abandoned the 
 charge of my only child? But enough of this subject — we will walk 
 abroad, if you will, while she is engaged in a province fitter for her 
 understanding." 
 
 So saying, he left the house, accompanied by Julian Peveril, and 
 Ihey were soon walking side by side, as if they had been old ac- 
 quaintances. 
 
 It may have happened to many of our readers, as it has done to 
 ourselves, to be thrown by accident into society with some indivi- 
 dual whose claims to w hat is called a serious character stand con- 
 siderably higher than our own, and with whom, therefore, we have 
 conceived ourselves likely to spend our time in a very stiff and con- 
 strained manner-, while, on the other hand, our destined com- 
 panion may have apprehended some disgust from the supposed 
 levity and thoughtless gaiety of a disposition so different from his 
 own. Now it has frequently happened, that when we, with that 
 urbanity and good humour which is our principal characteristic, 
 have accommodated ourself to our companion, by throwing as much 
 seriousness into our conversation as our habits will admit, he, on 
 the other hand, moved by our liberal example, hath divested his 
 manners of a part of their austerity ; and our conversation has, in 
 consequence, been of that pleasant texture, betwixt the useful and 
 agreeable, which best resembles '' the fairy-web of night and day," 
 usually called in prose the twilight. It is probable both parties 
 may, on such occasions, have been the better for their encounter, 
 even if it went no farther than to establish for the time a community 
 of feeling between men, who, separated more perhaps by temper 
 
 11 
 
162 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 than by principle, are too apt to charge eacli other with profane 
 frivolity on the one hand, or fanaticism on the other. 
 
 It fared thus in Peverirs walk wilh Bridgenorth, and in the con- 
 versation whicli he held with him. 
 
 Carefully avoiding the subject on which he had already spoken, 
 Major Bridgenorlh turned his conversation chiefly on foreign tra- 
 vel, and on the wonders he had seen in distant countries, and which 
 he appeared to have marked with a curious and observant eye. 
 This discourse made the time fly light away •, for although the anec- 
 dotesrand observations thus communicated, were all tinged wilh 
 the serious and almost gloomy spirit of the narrator, they yet con- 
 tained traits of interest and of wonder, such as are usually capti- 
 vating to a youthful ear, and were particularly so to Julian, who had 
 in his disposition some cast of the romantic and adventurous. 
 
 It appeared that Bridgenorth knew the south of France, and 
 could tell many stories of the French Huguenots, who already be- 
 gan to sustain those vexations which a few years afterwards were 
 summed up by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. He had even 
 been in Hungary, for he spoke as from personal knowledge of the 
 character of several of the heads of the great Protestant insurrection 
 which at this lime had taken place under the celebrated Tekehj and 
 laid down solid reasons why they were entitled to make common 
 cause with the Great Turk, rather than submit to the pope of 
 Rome. He talked also of Savoy, where those of the reformed re- 
 ligion still suffered a cruel persecution ^ and he mentioned, with a 
 swelling spirit, the protection which Oliver had afforded to the op- 
 pressed Protestant churches^ " therein showing himself," he ad- 
 ded, " more fit to wield the supreme power, than those who, claim- 
 ing it by right of inheritance, use it only for their own vain and 
 voluptuous pursuits." 
 
 " I did not expect," said Peveril, modestly, " to have heard 
 Oliver's panegyric from you. Master Bridgenorth." 
 
 ''I did not panegyrise him," answered Bridgenorlh ; " I speak 
 but truth of that extraordinary man, now being dead, whom, when 
 alive, I feared not to withstand to his face. It is the fault of the 
 present unhappy King, if he make us look back with regret to the 
 days when the nation was respected abroad, and when devotion and 
 sobriety were practised at home. — But I mean not to vex your spirit 
 by controversy. You have lived amongst those who find it more 
 easy and more pleasant to be the pensioners of France than her 
 controllers — to spend the money which she doles out to themselves, 
 than to check the tyranny v\ith which she oppresses our poor bre- 
 thren of the religion. When the scales shall fall from thine eyes, all 
 this thou Shalt see^ and seeing, shall learn to detest and despise it/' 
 By this time they had completed their walk, and were returned 
 lo Ihe Black Fort by a dilTcrcnt path from that which had led them 
 
PKVJ-.IUL OF THE Pi' VK. IG^* 
 
 up the valley. The exercise and the general lone of conversation 
 had removed, in some degree, the shyness and embarrassment which 
 Peveril originally fell in Bridgenorth's presence, and which the 
 tenor of his first remarks had rather increased than diminished. 
 Deborah's promised banquet was soon on the board ; and in sim- 
 plicity, as well as neatness and good order, answered the character 
 she had claimed for it. In one respect alone, there seemed some 
 inconsistency, perhaps a lillle affeclation. Most of the dishes were 
 of silver, and Ihe plates were of the same metal ^ instead of the tren- 
 chers and pewler which Peveril had usually seen employed on si- 
 milar occasions at Ihe Black Fort. 
 
 Presently, with the feelings of one who walks in a pleasant dream 
 from which he fears lo awake, and whose delight is mingled with 
 wonder and with uncertainty, Julian Peveril found himself seated 
 between Alice Bridgenorlh and her father — the being ho most 
 loved on earth, and tiie person whom he had ever considered as 
 the great obstacle to Iheir intercourse! The confusion of his mind 
 was such, that he could scarcely reply to the importunate civilities 
 of Dame Deborah : who, sealed with them at table in her quality of 
 governante, now dispensed the good things which had been pre- 
 pared under her own eye. 
 
 As for Alice, she seemed lo have formed a resolution to play the 
 mute ; for she answered not, excepting briefly, to the questions of 
 Dame Debbitch ; nay, even when her father, which happened once 
 or twice, attempted to bring her forward in the conversation, she 
 made no farther reply than respect for him rendered absolutely 
 necessary. 
 
 Upon Bridgenorth himself, then, devolved the task of entertaining 
 the company, and, contrary to his ordinary habits, he did not seem 
 to shrink from it. His discourse was not only easy, but almost 
 cheerful, though ever and anon crossed by some expressions in- 
 dicative of natural and habitual melancholy, or prophetic of future 
 misfortune and woe. Flashes of enthusiasm, too, shot along his con- 
 versation, gleaming like the sheet-lightning of an autumn eve, 
 which throws a strong, though momentary illumination, across the 
 sober twilight, and all the surrounding objects, which, touched by 
 it, assume a wilder and more striking character. In general, how- 
 ever, Bridgenorth's remarks were plain and sensible ; and as he 
 aimed at no graces of language, any ornament which they received 
 arose out of the interest with which they were impressed on his 
 hearers. For example, when Deborah, in the pride and vulgarity 
 of her heart, called Julian's attention to the plate from which they 
 had been eating, Bridgenorth seemed to think an apology necessary 
 for such superfluous expense. 
 
 " It was a symptom," he said, *' of approaching danger, when 
 such men, as were not usually influenced by the vanities of life, 
 
1{)4 PEVERIL OF THE PE\K. 
 
 employed much money in ornaments composed of the precious 
 metals. It was a sign that the merchant could not obtain a profit for 
 the capital, which, for the sake of security, he invested in this inert 
 form. It was a proof that the noblemen or gentlemen feared the 
 rapacity of power, when they put their wealth into forms the most 
 portable and the most capable of being hidden ; and it showed the 
 uncertaiiity of credit, when a man of judgment preferred the actual 
 possession of a mass of silver to the convenience of a goldsmith's 
 or a banker's receipt. While a shadow of liberty remained," he 
 said, "domestic rights were last invaded 5 and, therefore, men 
 disposed upon their cupboards and (ables the wealth which in these 
 places would remain longest, though not perhaps finally, sacred 
 from the grasp of a tyrannical governnjent. But let there he a 
 demand for capital to support a profitable commerce, and the mass 
 is at once consigned to the furnace, and, ceasing to be a vain and 
 cumbrous ornament of the banquet, becomes a p( tent and active 
 agent for furthering the prosperity of the country. ' 
 
 "In war, too," said Peveril, "plate has been found a ready 
 resource." 
 
 " But too much so," answered Bridgenorth. " In the late times, 
 the plate of the nobles and gentry, with that of the colleges, and 
 the sale of the crown-jewels, enabled the King to make his unhappy 
 stand, which prevented matters returning to a state of peace and 
 good order, until the sword had attained an undue superiority both 
 over King and Parliament." 
 
 He looked at Julian as he spoke, much as he who proves a horse 
 offers some object suddenly to his eyes, then watches to see if he 
 starts or blenches from it. But Julian's thoughts were too much 
 bent on other topics to manifest any alarm. His answer referred 
 to a previous part of Bridgenorth's discourse, and was not returned 
 till after a brief pause. " War, then," he said, "war, the grand 
 impoverisher, is also a creator of the wealth which it wastes and 
 devours?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Bridgenorth, "even as the sluice brings into 
 action the sleeping waters of the lake, which it finally drains. Ne- 
 cessity invents arts and discovers means; and what necessity is 
 sterner than that of civil war? Therefore, even war is not in itself 
 unmixed evil, being the creator of impulses and energies which 
 could not otherwise have existed in society." 
 
 "Men should go to war, then," said Peveril, "that they may 
 send their silver-plate to the mint, and eat from pewter dishes and 
 wooden platters?" 
 
 " Not so, my son," said Bridgenorth. Then checking himself as 
 he observed the deep crimson on Julian's cheek and brow, he added, 
 " I crave your pardon for such familiarity ; but I meant not to limit 
 what I said even now to such trifling consequences, although it may 
 
PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. IG5 
 
 be something salutary to tear men from their pomps and luxuries, 
 and teach those to be Romans who would otherwise be Sybarites. 
 But I would say, that times of public danger, as they call in!o cir- 
 culation the miser's hoard and proud man's bullion, and so add to 
 the circulating wealth of the country, do also call into action many 
 a brave and noble spirit, which would otherwise lie torpid, give no 
 example to the living, and bequeath no name to future ages. 
 Society knows not, and cannot know, the mental treasures which 
 slumber in her bosom, till necessity and opportunity call forth the 
 statesman and the soldier from the shades of lowly life to the parts 
 they are designed by Providence to perform, and the stations which 
 nature had qualified them to hold. So rose Oliver — so rose Milton — 
 so rose many another name which cannot be forgotten — even as the 
 tempest summons forth and displays the address of the mariner." 
 
 "You speak," ?aid Peveril, ''as if national calamity might be, 
 in some sort, an advantage." 
 
 ''And if it were not so,'' replied Bridgenorth, " it had not ex- 
 isted in this state of trial, where all temporal evil is alleviated by 
 something good in its progress or result, and where all that is good 
 is close coupled with that which is in itself evil." 
 
 " It must be a noble sight," said Julian, "to behold the slum- 
 bering energies of a great mind awakened into energy, and to see it 
 assume the authority which is its due over spirits more meanly 
 endowed." 
 
 " I once witnessed," said Bridgenorlh, "something to the same 
 effect ; and as the tale is brief, I will tell it you, if you will : 
 
 " Amongst my wanderings, the Transatlantic settlements have 
 not escaped me \ more especially the country of New England, into 
 which our native land has shaken from her lap, as a drunkard 
 flings from him his treasures, so much that is precious in the eyes 
 of God and of his children. There thousands of our best and most 
 godly men — such whose righteousness might come between the 
 Almighty and his wrath, and prevent the ruin of cities— are content 
 to be the inhabitants of the desert, rather encountering the unen- 
 lightened savages, than stooping to extinguish, under the oppres- 
 sion practised in Britain, the light that is within their own minds. 
 There I remained for a time, during the wars which the colony 
 maintained with Philip, a great Indian Chief, or Sachi m, as they 
 were called, who seemed a messenger sent from Satan to buffet 
 them. His cruelty was great — his dissimulation profound ; and the 
 skill and promptitude with which he maintained a destructive and 
 desultory warfare, inflicted many dreadful calamities on the settle- 
 ment. I was, by chance, at a small village in the woods, more than 
 thirty miles from Boston, and in its situation exceedingly lonely, and 
 surrounded with thickets. Nevertheless, there was no idea of any 
 danger from the Indians at that time, for men trusted to the pro- 
 
166 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 tection of a considerable body of troops who had taken the field for 
 protection of the frontiers, and who lay or were supposed to 
 lie, betwixt the hamlet and tiie enemy's country. Bui Ihey had to 
 do with a foe, whom the devil himself had inspired at once with 
 cunning and cruelty. It was on a Sabbalh morning, when we 
 had assembled to lake sweet counsel together in the Lord's house. 
 Our temple was but constructed of wooden logs ^ but when shall 
 the chant of trained hirelings, or (he sounding of tin and brass 
 tubes amid the aisles of a minster, arise so sweetly to Heaven, as 
 did the psalm in which we united at once our voices and our hearts ! 
 An excellent worthy, who now sleeps in the Lord, Nehemiah Sols- 
 grace, long the companion of my pilgrimage, had just begun to 
 wrestle in prayer, when a woman, with disordered looks and di- 
 sheelled hair, entered our chapel in a distracted manner, screaming ^ 
 incessantly, 'The Indians I The Indians ! '—In that land no man* 
 dares separate himself from his means of defence ^ and whether in 
 the city ur in the field, in the ploughed land or the forest, men 
 keep beside them their weapons, as did the Jews at Ihe rebuilding 
 of the Temple. So we sallied forth with our guns and pikes, and 
 heard the whoop of these incarnate devils, already in possession of 
 a part of the town, and exercising their cruelty on the few whom 
 weighty causes or indisposition had withheld from public worship-, 
 and it was remarked as a judgment, Ihat, upon that bloody Sabbath, 
 /Adrian Hanson, a Dutchman, a man well enough disposed towards 
 / man, but whose mind was altogether given to worldly gain, was 
 shot and scalped as he was summing his weekly gains in his ware- 
 house. In fine, there was much damage done^ and although our 
 arrival and entrance into combat did in some sort put them back, 
 yet being surprised and confused, and having no appointed leader 
 of our band, the devilish enemy shot hard at us, and had some 
 advantage. It was pitiful to hear the screams of women and children 
 amid the report of guns and the whistling of bullefs, mixed with 
 the ferocious yells of these savages, which they term their war- 
 whoop. Several houses in the upper part of the village were soon 
 on fire ; and the roaring of the flames, and crackling of the great 
 beams as they blazed, added to the horrible confusion; while the 
 smoke which the wind drove against us gave farther advantage to 
 {he enemy, who fought, as it were, invisible, and under cover, 
 whilst we fell fast by their unerring fire. In this stale of confusion, 
 and while we were about to adopt the desperate project of eva- 
 cuating the village, and, placing the women and children in the 
 centre, of attempting a retreat to the nearest selllemenl, it pleased 
 heaven to send us unexpected assistance. A tall man of a reverend 
 appearance, whom no one of us had ever seen before, suddenly was 
 in llie midst of us, as we hastily agitated the resolution of retreat- 
 ing. His garments were of the skin of the elk, and he wore sword 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 167 
 
 and carried gun; I never saw any Ihing more august than his 
 features, overshadowed by locks of grey hair, which mingled with 
 a long beard of the same colour. ' Men and brethren,' he said, in 
 a voice like that which turns back the flight, ' why sink your 
 hearts? and why are you thus disquieted? Fear ye that the God 
 we serve will give you up to yonder heathen dogs? Follow me, and 
 you shall see this day that there is a captain in Israel!' He uttered 
 a few brief but distinct orders, in the tone of one who was ac- 
 customed to command; and such was the influence of his appear- 
 ance, his mien, his language, and his presence of mind, that he 
 was implicitly obeyed by men who had never seen him until that 
 moment. We were hastily divided, by his orders, into two bodies; 
 one of which maintained the defence of the village with more cou- 
 rage than ever, convinced that the Unknown was sent by God to 
 our rescue. At his command, they assumed the best and most 
 sheltered positions for exchanging their deadly fire with the In- 
 dians; while, under cover of the smoke, the stranger sallied from 
 the town, at the head of the other division of the New England 
 men, and, fetching a circuit, attacked the Red Warriors in the 
 rear. The surprise, as is usual amongst savages, had complete 
 effect; for they doubted not that they were assailed in their turn, 
 and placed betwixt two hostile parties by the return of a detach- 
 ment from the provincial army. The heathens fled in confusion, 
 abandoning the half-won village, and leaving behind them such a 
 number of their warriors, that the tribe hath never recovered its 
 loss. Never shall I forget the figure of our venerable leader, when 
 our men, and not they only, but the women and children of the vil- 
 lage, rescued from the tomahawk and scalping-knife, stood crowded 
 around him, yet scarce venturing to approach his person, and more 
 minded, perhaps, to worship him as a descended angel, than to 
 thank him as a fellow-mortal. ' Not unto me be the glory,' he said ; 
 ' I am but an implement, frail as yourselves, in the hand of Him 
 who is strong to deliver. Bring me a cup of water, that I may allay 
 my parched throat, ere I essay the task of offering thanks where 
 they are mos;t due.' I was nearest to him as he spoke, and I gave 
 into his hand the water he requested. At that moment we ex- 
 changed glances, and it seemed to me that I recognised a noble 
 friend whom I had long since deemed in glory ; but he gave me no 
 lime to speak, had speech been prudent. Sinking on his knees, and 
 signing us to obey him, he poured forth a strong and energetic 
 thanksgiving for the turning back of the battle, which, pronounced 
 with a voice loud and clear as a war-trumpet, thrilled through the 
 joints and marrow of the hearers. I have heard many an act of 
 devotion in my life, had Heaven vouchsafed me grace to profit by 
 them ; but such a prayer as this, uttered amid the dead and the 
 dying, with a rich tone of mingled triumph and adoration, was 
 
/ 
 
 168 PEVEHIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 beyond Ihem all — it was like the song of Ihe inspired prophetess 
 who dwell beneath the palm-tree between Ramah and Bethel. He 
 was silent; and for a brief space we remained with our l"aces bent to 
 the earlh — no man daring io lift his head. At length we looked up, 
 but our deliverer was no longer amongst us : nor was he ever again 
 seen in the land whicii he had rescued." 
 
 Here Bridgenorlh, who had told this singular story with an elo- 
 quence and vivacity of detail very contrary to the usual dryness of 
 his conversation, paused for an instant, and then resumed — "Thou 
 seest, young man, that men of valour and of discretion are called 
 forth to command in circumstances of national exigence, though 
 their very existence is unknown in the land which they are pre- 
 destined to deliver." 
 
 " But what thought the people of the mysterious stranger?" said 
 Julian, who had listened with eagerness, for the story was of a kind 
 interesting to the jouthfuland the brave. 
 
 "Many things," answered Bridgenorth, " and, as usual, little to 
 the purpose. The prevailing opinion was, notwithstanding his own 
 disclamation, that the stranger was really a supernatural being; 
 others believed him an inspired champion, transported in the body 
 from some distant climate, to show us the way to safety ; others, 
 again, concluded that he was a recluse, who, either from motives 
 of piety, or other cogent reasons, had become a dweller in Ihe 
 wilderness, and shunned the face of man." 
 
 "And, if I may presume to ask," said Julian, "to which of 
 these opinions were you disposed to adhere?" 
 
 " The last suited best with the transient though close view with 
 which I had perused the stranger's features," replied Bridgenorth; 
 *' for although I dispute not that it may please Heaven, on high 
 occasions, even to raise one from the dead in defence of his coun- 
 try, yet T doubted not then, as I doubt not now, that I looked on 
 the living form of one, who had indeed powerful reasons to conceal 
 him in the cleft of the rock." 
 
 " Are these reasons a secret?" asked Julian Peveril. 
 
 "Not properly a secret," replied Bridgenorth; "for I fear not 
 thy betraying what I might tell thee in private discourse; and 
 besides, wert thou so base, the prey lies too distant for any hunters 
 to whom thou couldst point out its traces. But the name of this 
 worthy will sound harsh in thy ear, on account of one action of his 
 life — being his accession to a great measure, which made the ex- 
 treme isles of the earth to tremble. Have you never heard of Ri- 
 chard Whalley?" 
 
 " Of the regicide ?" 
 
 "Call his act what thou wilt," said Bridgenorth; "he, was. not 
 less the rescuer of that devoted village, that, with other leading 
 spirits of the ago, he sat in the judgment-seat when Charles Stewart 
 
PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 169 
 
 was arraigned at the bar, and subscribed the sentence that went 
 forth upon him." 
 
 *'l have ever heard," said JuHan, in an altered voice, and co- 
 louring deeply, "that you, Master Bridgcnorlt*.. wilh llie other 
 Presbyterians, were totally averse to (hat detestable crime, and 
 were ready to have made joint cause with the Cavaliers in prevent- 
 ing so horrible a parricide." 
 
 ''If it were so," replied Bridgenorth, "we have been richly 
 rewarded by his successor I" 
 
 ''Rewarded!" exclaimed Julian^ "Does the distinction of good 
 and evil, and our obligation to do the one and forbear the other, 
 depend on the reward which may attach to our actions?" 
 
 "God forbidi" exclaimed Bridgenorth-, "yet those who view 
 the havoc which this House of Stewart have made in the Church 
 and State— the tyranny which tliey exercise over men's persons 
 and consciences—may well doubt whether it be lawful to use 
 weapons in their defence. Yet you hear me not praise, or even 
 vindicate, the death of the King, though so far deserved, as he 
 was false to his oath as a Prince and Magistrate. I only tell you 
 what you desired to know, that Richard Whalley, one of the late 
 King's judges was he of whom I have just been speaking. I knew 
 his lofty brow, though time had made it balder and higher-, his 
 grey eye retained all its lustre 5 and though the grizzled beard co- 
 vered the lower part of his face, it prevented me not from re- 
 cognizing him. The scent was hot after him for his blood ^ but by 
 the assistance of those friends whom Heaven had raised up for his 
 preservation, he was concealed carefully, and emerged only to do 
 the will of Providence, in the matter of that battle. Perhaps his 
 \oice may be heard in the field once more, should England need 
 one of her noblest hearts ' ." 
 
 " Now, God forbid I" said Julian. 
 
 "Amen," returned Bridgenorth. "May God avert civil war, 
 and pardon those whose madness would bring it on us!" 
 
 There was a long pause, during which Juhan, who had scarce 
 Hfted his eyes towards Alice, stole a glance in that direction, and 
 was struck by the deep cast of melancholy which had stolen over 
 features, to which a cheerful, if .not a gay expression, was most 
 natural. So soon as she caught his eye, she remarked, and, as 
 Julian thought, with significance, that the shadows were lengthen- 
 ing, and evening coming on. 
 
 He heard \ and although satisfied that she hinted at his departure, 
 he could not, upon the instant, find resolution to break the spell 
 which detained him. The language which Bridgenorth held was 
 not only new and alarming, but so contrary to the maxims in 
 
 ' J?ote, p. 171. Wballey the Regicide. 
 
170 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 which he was brought up, Ihal, as a son of Sir Geoffrey Peveril of 
 the Peali, he would, in another case, have thought himself called 
 upon to dispute its conclusions, even at the sword's point. But 
 Bridgenorth's opinions were delivered with so much calmness — 
 seemed so much the result of conviclion— that they excited in Julian 
 rather a spirit of wonder, than of angry controversy. There was a 
 character of sober decision, and sedate melancholy, in all that he 
 said, which, even had he not been the father of Alice (and perhaps 
 Julian was not hijnself aware how much he was influenced by that 
 circumstance), would have rendered it difTicult to take personal 
 offence. His language and sentiments were of that quiet, yet de- 
 cided kind, upon which it is diflicuU either to fix controversy, or 
 quarrel, although it be impossible to acquiesce in the conclusions 
 to which they lead. 
 
 While Julian remained, as if spell-bound to his chair, scarce 
 more surprised at (he company in which he found himself, that at 
 the opinions to which he was listening, another circumstance re- 
 minded him that the proper lime of his slay at Black Fort had been 
 expended. Little Fairy, the Manx pony, which, well accustomed 
 to the vicinity of Black Fort, used to feed near the house while 
 her master made his visits there, began to find his present slay ra- 
 ther too long. She had been the gift of the Coun'ess to Julian, 
 whilst a youth, and came of a high-spiriled mountain breed, re- 
 markable alike for hardiness, for longevity, and for a degree of 
 sagacity approaching to that of the dog. Fairy showed the latter 
 quality, by the way in which she chose to express her impatience 
 to be moving homewards. At least such seemed the purpose of the 
 shrill neigh with which she startled the female inmates of the 
 parlour, who, the moment afterwards, could not forbear smiUng to 
 see the nose of the pony advanced through the opened casement. 
 
 ** Fairy reminds me," said Julian, looking to Alice, and rising, 
 " that the term of my stay here is exhausted." 
 
 '' Speak with me yet one moment," said Bridgenorth, withdraw- 
 ing him into a Gothic recess of the old-fashioned apartment, and 
 speaking so low that he could not be overheard by Alice and her 
 governante, who, in the meantime, caressed, and fed with frag- 
 ments of bread, the intruder Fairy. 
 
 " You have not, after all,'' said Bridgenorth, "told me the cause 
 of your coming hither." He stopped, as if to enjoy his embarrass- 
 ment, and then added, " And indeed it were most unnecessary that 
 you stiould do so. I have not so far forgotten the days of my youth, 
 or those affections which bind poor frail humanity but too much to 
 the things of this world. Will you find no words to ask of me the 
 great boon which you seek, and which, peradvenlure, you would 
 not have hesitated to make your own, without my knowledge, and 
 against my consent?— Nay, never vindicate thyself, but mark me 
 
; PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 171 
 
 farlher. The patriarch bought his beloved by fourteen years' hard 
 service to her father, Laban, and they seemed to him but as a few 
 days. But he that would wed my daughter must serve, in compari- 
 son, but a few days^ though in matters of such mighty import, 
 that they shall seem as the service of many years. — Reply not to 
 me now, but go, and peace be with you." 
 
 He retired so quickly, after speaking, that Peveril had literally 
 not an instant to reply. He cast his eyes around the apartment, but 
 Deborah and her charge had also disappeared. His gaze rested for 
 a moment on the portrait of Christian, and his imagination sug- 
 gested, that his dark features were illuminated by a smile of haughty 
 triumph. He started, and looked more attentively — it was but the 
 effect of the evening beam, which touched the picture at the instant. 
 The effect was gone, and there remained but the fixed, grave, in- 
 flexible features of the republican soldier. 
 
 Julian left the apartment as one who walks in a dream*, he 
 fnounled Fairy, and, agitated by a variety of thoughts, which he 
 was unable to reduce to order, he returned to Caslle-Rushin before 
 the night sat down. 
 
 Here he found all in movement. The Countess, with her son, 
 had, upon some news received, or resolution formed, during his 
 absence, removed, with a principal part of their family, to the yet 
 stronger Castle of Holm-Peel, about eight miles' distance across 
 the island 5 and which had been suffered to fall into a much more 
 dilapidated condition than that of Castletown, so far as it could be 
 considered as a place of residence. But as a fortress, Holm-Peel 
 was stronger than Castletown ; nay, unless assailed regularly, was 
 almost impregnable-, and was always held by a garrison belonging 
 to the Lords of Man. Here Peveril arrived at nightfall. He was 
 told in the fishing-village, that the nightbell of the Castle had been 
 rung earlier than usual, and the watch set with circumstances of 
 unusual and jealous precaution. 
 
 Resolving, therefore, not to disturb the garrison by entering at 
 that late hour, he obtained an indifferent lodging in ihe town for the 
 night, and determined to go to the Castle early on the succeeding 
 morning. He was not sorry thus to gain a few hours of solitude, to 
 think over the agitating events of the preceding day. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 -Sole, p. 169.— Whalley the Regicide. 
 
 There is a common tradition in America, that this person, who was never heard of 
 after the Restoration, fled to Massachusetts, and, living for some years concealed in that 
 province, finally closed his days there. The remarkahle and beautiful story of his having 
 suddenly emerged from his place of concealment, and, placing himself at the head of a 
 party of settlers, shown them the mode of acquiring a victory, which they were on the 
 point of yielding to the Indians, is also told; and in all probability truly. I have seen the 
 
172 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 whole tradition commented upon at large in a late North American publication, which 
 goes so far as to ascertain the obscure grave to which the remains of Whalley were se- 
 cretly committed. This singular story has lately afforded the justly celebrated American 
 novelist, Mr. Cooper, the materials from which he has compiled one of those impressive 
 narratives of the aboriginal inhabitants of the Transatlantic woods and the hardy Euro- 
 peans by whom they were invaded and dispossessed. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 • What seem'd its head. 
 
 The likeness of a kingly crown had on. 
 
 Paradise Lost. 
 
 SoDOR, or Holm-Peel', so is named Ihe casUe to vvhich our 
 Julian directed liis course early on the following morning,. is one of 
 those exlraordiiuiry monuments of /mtiquity with which this singu- 
 lar and interesting island abounds. It occupies (he whole of a high 
 rocky peninsula, or rather an island, for it is surrounded by the 
 sea at high water, and scarcely accessible even when the tide is 
 out, although a stone causeway, of great solidity, erected for the 
 express purpose, connects the island with the mainland. The whole 
 space is surrounded by double walls of great strength and thick- 
 ness-, and the access to the interior, at the time which we treat of, 
 was only by two flight? of steep and narrow steps, divided from each 
 other by a strong tower and guard-house^ under the former of 
 which there is an entrance-arch. The open space within the walls 
 extends to two acres, and contains many objects worthy of anti- 
 quarian curiosity. There were, besides the castle itself, two 
 cathedral churches, dedicated, the earlier to Saint Patrick, the 
 latter to Saint Germain ; besides two smaller churches •, all of which 
 had become, even in that day, more or less ruinous. Their decayed 
 walls, exhibiting the rude and massive architecture of the most 
 remote period, were composed of a ragged grey stone, which 
 formed a singular contrast with the bright red freestone of which 
 the window-cases, corner-stones, arches, and other ornamental 
 parts of the building, were composed. 
 
 Besides these four ruinous churches, the space of ground en- 
 closed by the massive exterior walls of Holm-Peel exhibited m^ny 
 other vestiges of the olden lime. There was a square mound of 
 earth, facing with its angles to the points of the compass, one of 
 those motes, as they were called, on which, in ancient times, the 
 northern tribes elected or recognised their chiefs, and held their 
 solemn popular assemblies, or comitia. There was also one of 
 those singular towers, so common in Ireland as to have proved the 
 favourite theme of her antiquaries, but of which the real use and 
 
 ' Note, 183. Sodor, or Holm Peel, in the I»le of Man. 
 
PEVERIL OF *ilIE PEAK. 173 
 
 meaning seem yet lobe hidden in the mist of ages. This of Holm- 
 Peel had been converled to the purpose of a watch-lower. There 
 wTre, besides, Runic monuments, of which the legends could not be 
 deciphered; and later inscriptions to Ihe memory of champions, of 
 whom the names only were preserved from oblivion. But tradition 
 and superslilious eld, still most busy where real history is silent, 
 had filled up the long blank of accurate information with tales 
 of Seakings and Pirates, Hebridean and Norwegian Resolutes, who 
 had formerly warred against, and in defence of, the famous castle. 
 Superstition, loo, and her tales of goblins, ghosts, and spectres — her 
 legends of saints and demons, of fairies and of familiar spirits, 
 which in no corner of the British empire are told and received with 
 more absolute credulity llian in the Isle of Man. 
 
 Amidst all these ruins of an older time arose the Castle itself, — 
 now ruinous — but in Charles II. 's reign well garrisoned, and in 
 a military point of view, kept in complete order. It was a vener- 
 able and very ancient building, containing several apartments 
 of sufficient size and height to be termed noble. But in Ihe sur- 
 render of the island by Christian, the furniture had been, in a great 
 measure, plundered or destroyed by the republican soldiers ; so 
 that, as we have before hinted, its present slate was ill adapted for 
 the residence of the noble proprietor. Yet it had been often the 
 abode, nol only of the Lords of Man, but of those slate prisoners 
 whom the Kings of Britain sometimes committed to their charge. 
 
 In this Casile of Holm-Peel the great king-maker, Richard, Earl 
 of Warwick, was confined, during one period of his eventful life, to 
 ruminate at leisure on his farther schemes of ambition. And here, 
 too, Eleanor, the haughty wife of the good Duke of Gloucester, 
 pined out in seclusion Ihe last days of her banishment. The sen- 
 tinels pretended that her discontented spectre was often visible at 
 night, traversing the baltlemenls of the external walls, or standing 
 motionless beside a particular solitary turret of one of the watch- 
 lowers wilh which they are flanked ; but dissolving into air at cock- 
 crow, or when the bell tolled from the yet remaining tower of Saint 
 Germain's church. 
 
 Such was Holm-Peel, as records inform us, till towards the end of 
 the seventeenth century. 
 
 It was in one of the lofty but almost unfurnished apartments of 
 this ancient Castle Ihat Julian Peveril found his friend the Earl of 
 Derby, who had that moment sat down to a breakfast composed 
 of various sorts of fish. "Welcome, most imperial Julian," ho 
 said: " welcome to our royal fortress ; in which, as yet, we are 
 not like to be starved Vith hunger, ihough wellnigh dead for 
 cold.'' 
 
 Julian answered by enquiring the meaning of this sudden move-' 
 ment. 
 
174 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 *' Upon my word," replied the Earl, ^'' you know nearly as much 
 of it as I do. My mother has told me nothing about it; supposing, 
 I believe, that I shall at length be templed to enquire; but s!ie will 
 find herself much mistaken. I shall give her credit for full wisdom 
 in her proceedings, rather than put her to the trouble to render a 
 reason, though no woman can render one better." 
 
 " Come, come ; this is affectation, my good friend," said Julian. 
 "You should enquire into these matters a little more curiously.'* 
 
 * ' To what purpose ? ' said the Earl . "To hear old stories about the 
 Tinwald laws, and the contending rights of the lords and the clergy, 
 and all the rest of that Celtic barbarism, which, like Burgess's tho- 
 rough-paced doctrine, enters at one ear, paces through, and goes 
 out at the other?" 
 
 " Come, my lord," said Julian, " you are not so indifferent as 
 you would represent yourself — you are dying of curiosity to know 
 what this hurry is about; only you think it the courtly humour (o 
 appear careless about your own affairs." 
 
 " Why, what should it be about," said the young Earl, " unless 
 some factious dispute between^ our Majesty's minister, Governor 
 Now^el, and our vassals? or perhaps some dispute betwixt our Ma- 
 jesty and the ecclesiastical jurisdictions? for all which our Majesty 
 cares as little as any king in Christendom." 
 
 " I rather suppose there is intelligence from England," said Ju- 
 lian. " I heard last night in Peeltown, that Greenhalgh is come 
 over with unpleasant news." 
 
 " He brought me nothing that was pleasant, I wot well," said the 
 Earl. " I expected something from St. Evremond or Hamilton — 
 some new plays by Dryden or Lee, and some waggery or lampoons 
 from the Rose Coffee-house ; and the fellow has brought me nothing 
 but a parcel of tracts about Protestants and Papists, and a folio play- 
 book, one of the conceptions, as she calls them, of that old mad- 
 woman the Duchess of Newcastle." 
 
 " Hush, my lord, for Heaven's sake," saidPeveril;" here comes 
 the Countess ; and you know she takes fire at the least slight to her 
 ancient friend." 
 
 " Let her read her ancient friend's works herself, then, ' said the 
 Earl, " and think her as wise as she can ; but 1 would not give one 
 of Waller's songs, or Denham's satires, for a whole carl-load of 
 her Grace's trash. — But here comes our mother, with care on her 
 brow. " 
 
 The Countess of Derby entered the apartment accordingly, hold- 
 ing in her hand a number of papers. Her dress was a mourning 
 habit, with a deep train of black velvet, which was borne by a little 
 favourite attendant, a deaf and dumb girl, whom, in compassion lo 
 her misfortune, the Countess had educated about her person for 
 some years. Upon this unfortunate being, with the touch of ro- 
 
w 
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 175 
 
 mance which marked many of her proceedings, Lady Derbyhad 
 conferred the name of Fenella, afler some ancient princess of the 
 island. The Counless herself was not much clianged since we last 
 presented her to our readers. Age had rendered her step more 
 slow, but not less majestic •, and while it traced some wrinkless on 
 her brow, had failed to quench the sedate fire of her dark eye. 
 The young men rose to receive her with the formal reverence 
 which they knew she loved, and were greeted by her with equal 
 kindness. 
 
 "Cousin Peveril," she said (for so she always called Julian, 
 in respect of his mother being a kinswoman of her husband), 
 " you were ill abroad last night, when we much needed your 
 counsel." 
 
 Julian answered with a blush, which he could not prevent, ''That 
 he had followed his sport among the mountains loo far — had re- 
 lumed late — and finding her ladyship was removed from Castle- 
 town, had inslandy followed the family hither^ but as the night 
 bell was rung, and the watch set, he had deemed it more respect- 
 ful to lodge for the night in the town." 
 
 " It is well," said (he Countess ; "and, to do you justice, Julian, 
 you are seldom a truant neglecler of appointed hours, though, like 
 the rest of Ihe youth of this age, you sometimes sufTer your sports 
 to consume too much of time that should be spent otherwise. Bui 
 for your friend Philip, he is an avowed contemner of good order, 
 .and seerns to find pleasure in wasting lime, even when he does not 
 enjoy it." 
 
 "I have been enjoying my time just now at least," said the Earl, 
 rising from table, and picking his teeth carelessly. "These fresh 
 mullets are delicious, and so is the Lachrymae Christi. I pray you 
 to sit down to breakfast, Julian, and parlake the' goods my royal 
 foresight has provided. Never was King of Man nearer being left to 
 the mercy of the execrable brandy of his dominions. Old Griffiths 
 would never, in the midst of our speedy retreat of last night, have 
 had sense enough lo secure a few flasks, had I not given him a hint 
 on that important subject. But presence of mind amid danger and 
 tumult, is a jewel I have always possessed." 
 
 "I wish, then, Philip, you would exert it to better purpose," 
 said the Countess, half smiling, half displeased; for she doled upon 
 her son with all a mother's fondness, even when she was most 
 angry with him for being deficient in the peculiar and chivalrous 
 disposition which had distinguished his falher, and which was so 
 analogous to her own romantic and high-minded character. "Lend 
 me your signet," she added, with a sigh 5 "for it were, I fear, 
 vain to ask you to read over these dispalches from England, and 
 execute the warrants which I have thought necessary to prepare in 
 consequence." 
 
176 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " My signel you shall command with all my heart, madam,'* said 
 Earl Philip; "but spare me the revision of what you are much 
 more capable to decide upon. I am, you know, a most complete 
 Roi faineant, and never once interfered with my Maine de palais 
 in her proceedings." 
 
 The Countess made signs to her lillle trainbearer, who imme- 
 diately went to seek for wax and a light, with which she presently 
 returned. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the Countess continued, addressing Peveril. 
 ^'Philip does himself less than justice. When you were absent, 
 Julian (for if you had been here I would have given you the credit 
 of prompting your friend), he had a spirited controversy with the 
 Bishop, for an attempt to enforce spiritual censures against a poor 
 wretch, by confining her in the vault under the chapel '." 
 
 "Do not think better of me than I deserve," said the Earl to 
 Peveril ; " my mother has omitted to tell you the culprit was pretty 
 Peggy of Ramsey, and her crime what in Cupid's courts would have 
 been called a peccadillo." 
 
 " Do not make yourself %orse than you are," replied Peveril, 
 who observed the Countess's cheek redden, — " you know you 
 would have done as much for the oldest and poorest cripple in the 
 island. Why, the vault is under the burial ground of the chapel, 
 and, for aught I know, under the ocean itself, such a roaring do 
 the waves make in its vicinity. I think no one could remain there 
 long, and retain his reason." 
 
 " It is an infernal hole," answered the Earl, " and I will have 
 it built up one day — that is full certain. — But hold — hold — forGod's 
 sake, madame — what are you going to do? — Look at the seal be- 
 fore you put it to the warrant — you will see it is a choice antique 
 cameo Cupid, riding on a flying fish — I had it for twenty zechins, 
 from Signor Furabosco at Rome — a most curious matter for an anti- 
 quary, but which will add little faith to a Manx warrant." 
 
 " How can you trifle thus, you simple boy?" said the Countess, 
 with vexation in her tone and look. " Let me have your signet, or 
 rather, take these warrants, and sign them yourself.' 
 
 "My signet— my signet — Oh! you mean that with the three 
 monstrous legs, which I suppose was devised as the most prepos- 
 terous device, to represent our most absurd Majesty of Man. — The 
 
 » Beneath the only one of the four churclies in Caslle-Rushin, which is or was kept a 
 lillle in repair, is a prison or dungeon, for ecclesiastical offenders. " This," says Wal« 
 dron, " is certainly one of the mosl dreadful places that imagination can form; the sea 
 runs under it through the hollows of the rock with such a continual roar, thai you would 
 think it were every nt:oment breaking in upon you, and over it are the vaults for burying 
 the dead. The stairs descending to this place of terrors are not above thirty, but so sleep 
 and narrow, that they are very difRcull to go down. A child of eight or nine years not 
 being able to pass them but sideways." — Waldron's Description of the. Isle of Man, in 
 his Works, p. 105, folio. ,.,,,.,„ 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 177 
 
 signel — I have not seen it since I gave illo Gibbon— my monkey, 
 to play with. — He did whine for it most piteously — I hope he has 
 not gemmed the green breast of ocean with my symbol of sove- 
 reignty !" 
 
 " How, by Heaven," said the Countess, trembling, and colour- 
 ing deeply with anger, " it was your father's signet! the last pledge 
 which he sent, with his love to me, and his blessing to thee, the 
 night before they murdered him at Bolton ! " 
 
 "Mother, dearest mother," said the Earl, startled out of his 
 apathy, and taking her hand, which he kissed tenderly, " I did but 
 jest — the signet is safe — Peveril knows that it is so. — Go fetch it, 
 Julian, for Heaven's sake — here are my keys — it is in the left-hand 
 drawer of my travelling cabinet. — Nay, mother, forgive me — it 
 was but a maus^aise plaisantejie ; only an ill-imagined jest, un- 
 gracious, and in bad tasle, I allow — but only one of Philip's follies. 
 Look at me, dearest mother, and forgive me I " 
 
 The Countess turned her eyes towards him, from which the tears 
 were fast falling. 
 
 " Philip," she said, " you try me too unkindly, and too severe- 
 ly. H limes are changed, as I have heard you allege — if the dignity 
 of rank, and the high feelings of honour and duty, are now drowned 
 in giddy jest and trifling pursuits, let me at least, who live secluded 
 from all others, die without perceiving the change which has hap- 
 pened, and, above all, without perceiving it in mine own son. Let 
 me not learn the general prevalence of this levity, which laughs at 
 every sense of dignity or duty, through your personal disrespect — 
 Let me not think that when I die " 
 
 '' Speak nothing of it, mother," said the Earl, interrupting her 
 affectionately. ''It is true, I cannot promise to be all my father 
 and his fathers were \ for we wear silk vests for their steel coats, 
 and feathered beavers for their crested helmets. But believe me, 
 though to be an absolute Palmerin of England is not in my nature, 
 no son ever loved a mother more dearly, or would do more to oblige 
 her. And that you may own this, I will forthwith not only seal the 
 warrants, to the great endangerment of my precious fingers, but 
 also read the same from end to end, as well as the dispatches there- 
 unto appertaining." 
 
 A mother is easily appeased, even when most offended; and it 
 was with an expanding heart that the Countess saw her son's very 
 handsome features, while reading these papers, settle into an ex- 
 pression of deep seriousness, such as they seldom wore. It seemed 
 to her as if the family likeness to his gallant but unfortunate father 
 increased, when the expression of their countenances became simi- 
 lar in gravity. The Earl had no sooner perused the dispatches, 
 which he did with great attention, than he rose and said, *' Julian, 
 come with me." 
 
 12 
 
178 ' PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 The Countess looked surprised. '* I was wont to share your 
 father's counsels, my son," she said ; " but do not think thai T wish 
 to intrude myself upon yours. lam too well pleased to see you 
 assume the power and the duty of thinking for yourself, which is 
 what I have so long urged you to do. Nevertheless, my experience, 
 who have been so long administrator of your authority in Man, might 
 jiot, I think, be superfluous to the matter in hand." 
 
 " Hold me excused, dearest mother," said the Earl, gravely. 
 *' The interference was none of my seeking-, had you taken your 
 own course, without consulting me, it had been well; but since I 
 have entered on Ihe affair — and it appears sufflcienlly important — 
 I must transact it to the best of my own abihly." 
 
 " Go, then, my son," said the Countess, " and may Heaven en- 
 lighten thee with its counsel, since thou will have none of mine. — 
 I trust that you, Master Peveril, will remind him' of what is fit for 
 his own honour; and that only a coward abandons his rights, and 
 only a fool trusts his enemies." 
 
 The Earl answered not, but, taking Peveril by the arm, led him 
 up a winding stair to his own apartment, and from thence into a 
 projecting turret, where, amidst the roar of waves and sea-mews' 
 clang, he held wilh him the following conversation. 
 
 " Peveril, it is well I looked into these warrants. My mother 
 queens it at such a rate as may cost me not only my crown, which 
 I care little for, but perhaps my head, which, though others may 
 think little of it, I would feel it an inconvenience to be deprived 
 of." 
 
 " What on earth is the matter?" said Peveril, with consider- 
 able anxiety. 
 
 '* It seems," said the Earl of Derby, " that Old England, who 
 lakes a frohcsome brain-fever once every two or three years, for 
 the benefit of her doctors, and the purification of the torpid lethar- 
 gy brought on by peace and prosperity, is now gone stark staring 
 mad on the subject of a real or supposed Popish Plot. I read one 
 programme on the subject, by a fellow called Gates, and thought 
 it the most absurd foolery I ever perused. But that cunning fel- 
 low Shaftesbury, and some others amongst the great ones, have 
 taken it up, and are driving on at such a rate as makes harness 
 crack, and horses smoke for it. The King, who has sworn never 
 to kiss the pillow his father went to sleep on, temporizes and gives 
 way to the current; the Duke of York, suspected and haled on 
 account of his religion, is about to be driven to the continent ; 
 several principal Catholic nobles are in the Tower already ; and the 
 nation, like a bull at Tulbury-running, is persecuted with so many 
 inflammatory rumours and pestilent pamphlets, that she has cocked 
 her tail, flung up her heels, taken the bit between her teeth, and is 
 as furiously unmanageable as in the year 1642." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 179 
 
 "All this you must have known already," said Peveril; "I 
 wonder you told me not of news so important." 
 
 " It would have taken long to tell," said the Earl; "moreoYer, I 
 desired to have you solus; thirdly, I was about to speak when my 
 mother entered ; and, to conclude, it was no business of mine. But 
 these dispatches of my politic mother's private correspondent put a 
 new^ face on the whole matter •, for it seems some of the informers 
 — a trade which, having become a thriving one, is now pursued by 
 many — have dared to glance at the Countess herself as an agent in 
 this same plot — ay, and have found those that are willing enough to 
 believe their report." 
 
 "On mine honour," said Peveril, " you both take it with great 
 coolness. I think the Countess the more composed of the two; for, 
 except her movement hither, she exhibited no mark of alarm, and, 
 moreover, seemed no way more anxious to communicate the matter 
 to your lordship than decency rendered necessary." 
 
 " My good mother," said the Earl, " loves power, though it has 
 cost her dear. I wish I could truly say that my neglect of business 
 is entirely assumed in order to leave it in her hands, but that belter 
 motive combines with natural indolence. But she seems to have 
 feared I should not think exactly like her in this emergency, and she 
 was right in supposing so." 
 
 "How comes the emergency upon you?" said Julian; "and 
 what form does the danger assume?" 
 
 " Marry, thus it is," said the Earl : " I need not bid you remember 
 the affair of Colonel Christian. That man, besides his widow, who 
 is possessed of large property— Dame Christian of Kirk-Truagh, 
 whom you have often heard of, and perhaps seen — left a brother 
 called Edward Christian, whom you never saw at all. Now Ihis 
 brother — but I dare say you know all about it?" 
 
 " Not I, on my honour," said Peveril ; " you know the Countess 
 seldom or never alludes to the subject." 
 
 " Why," replied the Earl, " I believe in her heart she is some- 
 thing ashamed of that gallant act of royalty and supreme jurisdiction, 
 the consequences of which maimed my estate so cruelly. — Well, 
 cousin, this same Edward Christian was one of the dempsters at the 
 lime, and, naturally enough, was unwilling to concur in the sentence 
 which adjudged his aijie to be shot like a dog. My mother, who was 
 then in high force, and not to be controlled by any one, would have 
 served the dempsler with the same sauce with which she dressed 
 his brother, had he not been wise enough to fly from the island. 
 Since that time, the thing has slept on all hands; and though we 
 knew that Dempster Christian made occasionally secret visits to his 
 friends in the island, along with two or three other Puritans of the 
 same stamp, and particularly a prick-eared rogue, called Bridge- 
 north, brother-in-law to the deceased, yet my mother, thank Heaven, 
 
180 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 has hitherto had the sense to connive at them, though, for some 
 reason or other, she holds this Bridgenorth in especial disfavour." 
 
 "And why," said Peveril, forcing himself to speak, in order lo 
 conceal the very unpleasant surprise which he felt, " why does the 
 Countess now depart from so prudent a line of conduct?" 
 
 " You must know (he case is now different. The rogues are not 
 satistied with toleration — they would have supremacy. They have 
 found friends in the present heat of the popular mind. My mother's 
 name, and especially that of her confessor, Aldrick the Jesuit, have 
 been mentioned in this beautiful maze of a plot, which, if any such 
 at all exists, she knows as little of as you or I. However, she is a 
 CathoUc, and that is enough \ and I have little doubt, that if the 
 fellows could seize on our scrap of a kingdom here, and cut all our 
 throats, they would have the thanks of the present house of Com- 
 mons, as willingly as old Christian had those of the Rump, for a 
 similar service." 
 
 "From whence did you receive all this information?" said Peve- 
 ril, again speaking, though by the same effort which a man makes 
 who talks in his sleep, 
 
 "Aldrick has seen the Duke of York in secret, and his Royal 
 Highness, who wept while he confessed his want of power to protect 
 his friends — and it is no trifle will wring tears from him — told him 
 to send us information that we should look to our safety, for that 
 Dempster Christian and Bridgenorth were in the island, with secret 
 and severe orders ; that they had formed a considerable party there, 
 and were likely to be owned and protected in any thing they 
 might undertake against us. The people of Ramsey and Castle- 
 town are unluckily discontented about some new regulation of the 
 imposts^ and, to tell you the truth, though I thought yesterday's 
 sudden remove a whim of my mother's, I am almost satisfied they 
 would have blockaded us in Rushin Castle, where we could not 
 have held out for lack of provisions. Here we are better supplied, 
 and, as we are on our guard, it is likely the intended rising will 
 not take place." 
 
 " And what is to be done in this emergency? " said Peveril. 
 
 " That is the very question, my gentle coz," answered the Earl. 
 " My mother sees but one way of going to work, and that is by 
 royal authority. Here are the warrants she had prepared, to search 
 for, take, and apprehend the bodies of Edward Christian and Ro- 
 bert—no, Ralph Bridgenorth, and bring them to instant trial. No 
 doubt, she would soon have had them in the Castle-court, with a 
 dozen of the old matchlocks levelled against them — that is her way 
 of solving all sudden difficulties." 
 
 " But in which, I trust, you do not acquiesce, my lord," an- 
 swered Peveril, whose thoughts instantly reverted to Alice, if they 
 could ever be said lo be absent from her. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 181 
 
 " Truly, I acquiesce in no sucii mailer," said the Earl. ** Wil- 
 liam Christian's dealh cost me a fair half of my inheritance. I 
 have no fancy to fall under the displeasure of my royal brother, 
 King Charles, for a new escapade of the same kind. But how to 
 pacify my mother, I know not. I wish the insurrection would take 
 place, and then, as we are better provided than they can be, we 
 might knock the knaves on the head ; and yet, since they began the 
 fray, we should keep the law on our side." 
 
 " Were it not better," said Peveril, " if by any means these men 
 could be induced to quit the island?" 
 
 '' Surely," replied the Earl 5 "but that will be no easy matter 
 — They are stubborn on principle, and empty threats will not move 
 them. This slormblast in London is wind in their sails, and they 
 will run their length, you may depend on it. I have sent orders, 
 however, to clap up the Manxmen upon whose assistance they de- 
 pended, and if I can find the two worthies themselves, here are 
 sloops enough in the harbour- — I will take the freedom to send 
 them on a pretty distant voyage, and I hope matters will be settled 
 before they return to give an account of it." 
 
 At this moment a soldier belonging to the garrison approached 
 the two young men, with many bows and tokens of respect. " How 
 now, friend?" said the Earl to him. "Leave off thy courtesies, 
 and tell thy business." 
 
 The man, who was a native islander, answered in Manx, that he 
 had a teller for his honour, Master Julian Peveril. Julian snatched 
 the billet hastily, and asked whence it came. 
 
 " It was delivered to him by a young woman," the soldier re- 
 plied, " who had given him a piece of money to deliver it into 
 Master PeveriFs own hand." 
 
 "Thou art a lucky fellow, Julian," said the Earl. " With that 
 grave brow of thine, and thy character for sobriety and early wis- 
 dom, you set the girls a-wooing, without wailing till they are 
 asked 5 whilst I, their drudge and vassal, wasleboth language and 
 leisure, without gelling a kind word or look, far less a billet- 
 doux." 
 
 This the young Earl said with a smile of conscious triumph, as 
 in fact he valued himself not a litlle upon the interest which he 
 supposed himself to possess with the fair sex. 
 
 Meanwhile the letter impressed on Peveril a different train of 
 thoughts from what his companion apprehended. It was in Alice's 
 hand, and contained these few words : — 
 
 " I fear what I am going to do is wrong; but I must see you. Meet 
 me at noon at Goddard Crovan's Stone, with as much secrecy as 
 you may." 
 
 The letter was signed only with the initials A. B.^ but Julian 
 had no difficulty in recognising the handwriting, which he had 
 
182 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 often seen, and which was remarkably beautiful. He stood sus- 
 pended, for he saw the difficulty and impropriety of withdrawing 
 himself from the Countess and his friend at this moment of im- 
 pending danger ^ and yet, to neglect this invitation was not to be 
 thought of. He paused in the utmost perplexity. 
 
 " Shall I read your riddle?" said the Earl. " Go where love 
 calls you — I will make an excuse to my mother — only, most grave 
 anchorite, be hereafter more indulgent to the failings of others than 
 you have been hitherto, and blaspheme not the power of the little 
 deity." 
 
 " Nay, but, Cousin Derby " said Peveril, and stopped short, 
 
 for he really knew not what to say. Secured himself by a virtuous 
 passion from the contagious influence of the time, he had seen 
 with regret his noble kinsman mingle more in its irregularities 
 than he approved of, and had sometimes played the part of a mo- 
 nitor. Circumstances seemed at present to give the Earl a right of 
 retaliation. He kept his eye fixed on his friend, as if he waited till 
 he should complete his sentence, and at length exclaimed, 
 "What! cousin, quite a la mort! O, most judicious Julian! O, 
 most precise Peveril I have you bestowed so much wisdom on me 
 that you have none left for yourself? Come, be frank — tell me 
 name and place — or say but the colour of the eyes of the most 
 emphatic she— or do but let me have the pleasure to hear thee say, 
 ' I love ! ' — confess one touch of human frailty — conjugate the verb 
 amo, and I will be a gentle schoolmaster, and you shall have, as 
 father Richards used to say, when we were under his ferule, ' li- 
 centia exeundi.' " 
 
 "Enjoy your pleasant humour at my expense, my lord," said 
 Peveril; " I fairly will confess thus much, that I would fain, if it 
 consisted with my honour and your safety, have two hours at 
 my own disposal ; the more especially as the manner in which I 
 shall employ them may much concern the safety of the island." 
 
 "Very likely, I dare say," answered the Earl, still laughing. 
 
 " No doubt you are summoned out by some Lady Pohtic Wouldbe 
 of the isle, to talk over some of the breast-laws •, but never mind 
 — go, and go speedily, that you may return as quick as possible. 
 I expect no immediate explosion of this grand conspiracy. When 
 the rogues see us on our guard, they will be cautious how they 
 break out. Only, once more, make haste." 
 
 Peveril thought this last advice was not to be neglected ; and, 
 glad to extricate himself from the raillery of his cousin, walked 
 down towards the gate of the Castle, meaning to cross over to the 
 village, and there take horse at the Earl's stables, for the place of 
 rendezvous. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 183 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Nole, p. 172.— SoDOR, OR Holm-Peel, m the Isle of Mak. 
 
 The author has never seen this ancient fortress, which has in its circuit so much th*t 
 is fascinating to the antiquary. Waldron has given the following description, which is 
 perhaps somewhat exaggerated : — 
 
 " Peel, or Pile-Town, is so called from its garrison and castle .- though in effect the 
 castle cannot properly be said to be in the town, an arm of the sea running between 
 them, which in high tides would be deep enough to bear a ship of forty or flfty ton, 
 though sometimes quite drained of salt water; but then it is supplied with fresh by a 
 river which runs from Kirk Jarmyn Mountains, and empties itself into the sea. This 
 castle, for its situation, antiquity, strength, and beauty, might justly come in for one of 
 the wonders of the world. Art and nature seem to have vied with each other in the model, 
 nor ought the most minute particular to escape observation. As to its situation, it is 
 built upon the top of a huge rock, which rears itself a stupendous height above the sea, 
 with which, as I said before, it is surrounded. And also by natural fortitications of other 
 lesser rocks, which render it inaccessible but by passing that little arm of the sea which 
 divides it from the town; this you may do in a small boat ; and the natives, tucking up 
 their clothes under their arms, and plucking ofl" their shoes and stockings, frequently 
 wade it in low tides. When you arrive at the foot of the rock, you ascend about some 
 threescore steps, which are cut out of it, to the lirst wall, which is immensely thick and 
 high, and built of a very durable and bright stone, though not of the same sort with that 
 of Castle Russin in Castle Town ; and has on it four little houses, or watch-towers, which 
 overlook the sea. The gates are wood, but most curiously arched, carved, and adorned 
 with pilasters. Having passed the lirst, you have other stairs of near half the number 
 with the former to mount, before you come at the second wall, which, as well as the 
 other, is full of port-holes for cannon, which are planted on stone crosses on a third 
 wall. Being entered, you find yourself in a wide plain, in the midst of which stands the 
 castle, encompassed by four churches, three of which time has so much decayed, that 
 there is little remaining, besides the walls and some few tombs, which seem to have been 
 erec(ed with so much care, as to perpetuate the memory of those buried in them till the 
 final dissolution of all things. The fourth is kept a little better in repair; but not so much 
 for its own sake, though it has been the most magnificent of them all, as for a chapel 
 within it ; which is appropriated to the use of the bishop, and has under it a prison, or 
 rather dungeon, for those offenders who are so miserable as to incur the spiritual cen- 
 sure. This is certainly one of the most dreadful places that imagination can form. The 
 sea runs under it through the hollows A Ihe rock with such a continual roar, that you 
 would think it were every moment breaking in upon you, and over it are the vaults for 
 burying the dead. The stairs descending to this place of terrors are not above thirty, but 
 so steep and narrow, that they are very difficult to go down, a child of ei^-htor nine years 
 old not being able to pass them but sideways. Within it are thirteen pillars, on which 
 the whole chapel is supported. They have a superstition, that whatsoever stranger goes 
 to see this cavern out of curiosity, and omits to count the pillars, shall do something to 
 occasion being confined there. There are places for penance also under all the other 
 churches, containing several very dark and horrid cells ; some have nothing in Ihem either 
 to sit or lie down on, others a small piece of brick-work ; some are lower and more dark 
 than others, but all of them, in my opinion, dreadful enough for almost any crime hu- 
 manity is capable of being guilty of; though 'lis supposed they were built with different 
 degrees of horror, that 4he punishment might be proportionate to the faults of those 
 wretches who were to be confined in them. These have never been made use of since the 
 times of popery; but that under the bishop's chapel is the common and only prison for 
 all offences in the spiritual court, and to that the delinquents are sentenced. But Iho 
 soldiers of the garrison permit them to suffer their confinement in th.e castle, it being 
 morally impossible for the strongest constitution to sustain the damps and noisomeness 
 of the cavern even for a few hours, much less for months and years, as is the punish- 
 ment sometimes allotted. But I shall speak hereafter more fully of the severity of the 
 ecclesiastical jurisdiction. 'Tis certain that here have been very great architects in this 
 island ; for the noble monuments in this church, which is kept in repair, and indeed the 
 ruins of the others also, show the builders to be masters of all the orders in that art, 
 though the great number of Doric pillars prove them to he chiefly admirers of that. Nor 
 are the epitaphs and inscriptions on the tombstones less worthy of remark; the various 
 languages in which they are engraved, testify by what a diversity of nations this little 
 spot of earth ha» been possessed. Though time has defaced too many of the letters to 
 
184 PEVKRIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 render the remainder intelligible, yet you may easily perceive fragments of the Hebrew, 
 Greek, Latin, Arabian, Saxon, Scotch and Irish characters ; some dates yet visibly de- 
 clare they were written before the coming of Christ ; and, indeed, if one considers the 
 walls, the thickness of them, and the durableness of the stone of which they are com- 
 posed, one must be sensible that a great number of centuries must pass before such 
 strong workmanship could be reduced to the condition it now is. These churches, there- 
 fore, were doubtless once the temples of Pagan deities, though since consecrated to the 
 ■worship of the true divinity ; and what confirms me more strongly in this conjecture, is, 
 that there is still a part of one remaining, where stands a large stone directly in form 
 and manner like the Triposes, which, in those days of ignorance, the priests stood upon, 
 to deliver their fabulous oracles. Through one of these old churches, there was formerly 
 a passage to the apartment belonging to the captain of the guard, but is now closed up. 
 The reason they give yoi: for it, is a pretty odd one; but as I think it not sufficient satis- 
 faction to my curious reader, to acquaint him with what sort of buildings this island af- 
 fords, without letting him know also what traditions are concerning them, I shall have 
 little regard to the censure of those critics, wlio find fault with every thing out of the 
 common road ; and in this, as well as in all other places, where it falls in my way, shall 
 make it my endeavour to lead him into the humours and very souls of the Manx people. 
 They say, that an apparition, called in their language the Mauthe Doog, in the shape of 
 a large black spaniel with curled shaggy hair, was used to haunt Peel Castle, and has 
 been frequently seen in every room, but particularly in the guard-chamber, where, as 
 soon as candles were lighted, it came and lay down before the fire, in presence of all the 
 soldiers, who at length, by being so much accustomed to the sight of it, lost great part of 
 the terror they were seized with at its first appearance. They still, however, retained a 
 certain awe, as believing it was an evil spirit which only waited permission to do them 
 hurt, and for that reason forbore swearing and all profane discourse while in its com- 
 pany. But though they endured the shock of such a guest when altogether in a body, none 
 cared to be left alone with it; it being the custom, therefore, for one of the soldiers to 
 lock the gates of the castle at a certain hour, and carry the keys to the captain, to whose 
 apartment, as I said before, the way led through a church, they agreed among them- 
 selves that whoever was to succeed the ensuing night, his fellow in this errand should 
 accompany him that went first, and by this means, no man would be exposed singly to 
 the danger; for I forgot to mention that the Mauthe Doog was always seen to come out 
 from that passage at the close of day, and return to it again as soon as the morning 
 dawned, which made them look on this place as its peculiar residence. One night a fel- 
 low being drunk, and by the strength of bis liquor rendered more daring than ordinary, 
 laughed at the simplicity of his companions, and though it was not his turn to go with 
 the keys, would needs take that office upon him, to testify his courage. All the soldiers 
 endeavoured to dissuade him, but the more they said, the more resolute he seemed, and 
 swore that he desired nothing more than Ihatihe Mauthe Doog would follow him, as it 
 had done the others, for he would try if it wer'edogordevil. After having talked in a very 
 reprobate manner for some time, he snatched up the keys, and went out of the guard- 
 room; in some time after. his departure a great noise was heard, but nobody had the 
 boldness to see what occasioned it, till the adventurer returning, they demanded the 
 knowledge of him ; but as loud and noisy as he had been at leaving them, he was now be- 
 come sober and silent enough, for he was never heard to speak more ; and though all the 
 time he lived, which was three days, he was entreated by all who came near him, either 
 to speak, or, if he could not do that, to make some signs, by which they might under- 
 stand what had happened to him, yet nothing intelligible could be got from him, only, 
 that by the distortion of his limbs and features, it might be guessed that he died in agonies 
 more than is common in a natural death. The Mauthe Doog was, however, never seen 
 after in the castle, nor would any one attempt to go through that passage, for which 
 reason it was closed up, and another way made. This acciderft happened about three- 
 score years since, and I heard it attested by several, but especially by an old soldier, 
 who assured me he had seen it oftener than he had then hairs on hi.s head. Having taken 
 notice of every thing remarkable in the churches, I believe my reader will be im- 
 patient to come to the castle itself, which, in spite of the magnificence the pride of mo- 
 dern ages has adorned the palaces of princes with, exceeds not only every thing I have 
 seen, but also read of, in nobleness of structure. Though now no more than a garrison 
 for soldiers, you cannot enter it without being struck with a veneration, which the most 
 beautiful buildings of later years cannot inspire you with ; the largeness and loftiness of 
 the rooms, the vast echo resounding through them, the many winding galleries, the 
 prospect of the sea, and the ships, which, by reason of the height of the place, seem but 
 like buoys floating on the waves, make you fancy yourself in a superior orb to what the 
 rest of mankind inhabit, and fill you with contemplations the most refined and pure that 
 the soul is capable of conceiving."— Walduon's Vescripdon of Ihij Ish of Man, folio, 
 1731, p. 103.. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 185 
 
 111 this description, the account of the inscriptions in so many Oriental languages, and 
 bearing date before the Christian era, is certainly as much exaggerated as the story of 
 the Mauthe Doog itself. It would be very desirable to find out the meaning of the word 
 Mauthe in the Manx language, which is a dialect of the Gaelic. I observe, that Maithe in 
 Gaelic, amongst other significations, has that of active or speedy: and also, that a dog of 
 Richard II., mentioned by Froissart, and supposed to intimate the fall of his master's 
 authority, by leaving him and fawning on Bolingbroke, was termed Mauthe ; but neither 
 of these particulars tends to explain the very impressive story of the fiendish hound of 
 Peel Castle. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Acaslo. Can she not speak ? 
 
 Oswald. If speech be only in accented sounds, 
 Framed by the tongue and lips, the maiden's dumb ; 
 But if by quick and apprehensive look, 
 By motion, sign, and glance, to give each meaning, 
 Express as clothed in language, be term'd speech, 
 She hath that wondrous faculty ; for her eyes, 
 Like the bright stars of heaven, can hold discourse. 
 Though it be mute and soundless. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 At the head of the first flight of steps which descended towards 
 the difficult and well-defended entrance of the Castle of Holm-Peel, 
 Peveril was met and stopped by the Countess's train-bearer. This 
 little creature — for she was of the least and shghlest size of wo- 
 mankind — was exquisitely well formed in all her limbs, which the 
 dress she usually wore (a green silk tunic, of a peculiar form) set 
 off to the best advantage. Her face was darker than the usual hue 
 of Europeans ; and tlie profusion of long and silken hair, which, 
 when she undid the braids in which she commonly wore it, fell 
 down almost to her ankles, was also rather a foreign attribute. 
 Her countenance ressembled a most beautiful miniature ^ and there 
 was a quickness, decision, and fire, in Fenella's look, and- espe- 
 cially in her eyes, which was probably rendered yet more alert 
 and acute, because, through the imperfection of her other organs, 
 it was only by sight that she could obtain information of what passed 
 around her. 
 
 The pretty mute was mistress of many little accompHshments, 
 which the Countess had caused lo be taught to her in compassion 
 for her forlorn situation, and which she learned with the most 
 surprising quickness. Thus, for example, she was exquisite in the 
 use of the needle, and so ready and ingenious a draughtswoman, 
 that, like the ancient Mexicans, she sometimes made a hasty 
 sketch with her pencil the means of conveying her ideas, either by 
 direct or emblematical representation. Above all, in the art of 
 ornamental writing, much studied at that period, Fenella was so 
 great a proficient, as to rival the fame of Messrs. Snow, Shelley, 
 and other masters of the pen, whose copy-books, preserved in the 
 
18$ PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 libraries of the curious, still show the artists smiling on the fron- 
 tispiece in all the honours of flowing gowns and full-bottomed wigs, 
 to the eternal glory of calligraphy. 
 
 The little maiden had, besides these accomplishments, much 
 ready wit and acuteness of intellect. With Lady Derby, and with 
 the two young gentlemen, she was a great favourite, and used much 
 freedom in conversing with them, by means of a system of signs 
 which had been gradually established amongst them, which served 
 all ordinary purposes of communication. 
 
 But, though happy in the indulgence and favour of her mistress, 
 from whom indeed she was seldom separate, Fenella was by no 
 means a favourite with the rest of the household. In fact, it seemed 
 that her temper, exasperated perhaps by a sense of her misfortune, 
 was by no means equal to her abilities. She was very haughty in 
 her demeanour, even towards the upper domestics, who in that 
 establishment were of a much higher rank and better birth than 
 in the families of the nobility in general. These often complained, 
 not only of her pride and reserve, but of her high and irascible 
 temper and vindictive disposition. Her passionate propensity had 
 been indeed idly encouraged by the young men, and particularly 
 by the Earl, who sometimes amused himself with teazing her, 
 that he might enjoy the various singular motions and murmurs by 
 which she expressed her resentment. Towards him, these were 
 of course only petulant and whimsical indications of pettish anger. 
 But when she was angry with others of inferior degree — before 
 whom she did not control herself— the expression of her passion, 
 unable to display itself in language, had something even frightful, 
 so singular were the tones, contortions, and gestures, to which she 
 had recourse. The lower domestics, to whom she was liberal 
 almost beyond her apparent means, observed her with much de- 
 ference and respect, but much more from fear than from any real 
 attachment; for the caprices of her temper displayed themselves 
 even in her gifts ^ and those who most frequently shared her bounty, 
 seemed by no means assured of the benevolence of the motives 
 which dictated her liberality. 
 
 All these peculiarities led to a conclusion consonant with Manx 
 superstition. Devout believers in all the legends of fairies so dear 
 to the Celtic tribes, the Manx people held it for certainty that the 
 \J elves were in the habit of carrying off mortal children before bap- 
 tism, and leaving in the cradle of the new-born babe one of their 
 own brood, which was almost always imperfect in some one or 
 other of the organs proper to humanity. Such a being they con- 
 ceived Fenella to be ^ and the smallness of her size, her dark com- 
 plexion, her long locks of silken hair, the singularity of her man- 
 ners and tones, as well as the caprices of her temper, were to their 
 thinking all attributes of the irritable, fickle, and dangerous race 
 
PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 187 
 
 from which Ihey supposed her lo be sprung. And it seemed, that 
 although no jest appeared to olTend her more than when Lord Derby 
 called her in sport the Elfin Queen, or otherwise alluded to her 
 supposed connexion with '' the pigmy folk," yet still her perpetually 
 alTecling to wear the colour of green, proper to (he fairies, as well 
 as some other peculiarities, seemed voluntarily assumed by her, in 
 order lo countenance the superstition, perhaps because it gave her 
 more authority amopg the lower orders. 
 
 Many were the tales circulated respecting the Countess's Elf, 
 as Fenella was currently called in the island ; and the malecontents 
 of the stricter persuasion were convinced, that no one but a Papist 
 and a malignant would have kept near her person a creature of 
 such doubtful origin. They conceived that Fenella's deafness and 
 dumbness were only towards those of this world, and that she had 
 been heard talking, and singing, and laughing most elvishly, with 
 the invisibles of her own race. They alleged, also, that she had a 
 Double, a sort of apparition resembling her, which slept in the 
 Countess's anteroom, or bore her train, or wrought in her cabinet, 
 while the real Fenella joined the song of the mermaids on the 
 moonlight sands, or the dance of the fairies in the haunted valley 
 of Glenmoy, or on the heights of Snawfell and Barool. The senti- 
 nels, too, would have sworn they had seen the little maiden trip 
 past them in their solitary nightwalks, without their having it in 
 their power to challenge her, any more than if they had been as 
 mute as herself. To all this mass of absurdities the better informed 
 paid no more attention than to the usual idle exaggerations of the 
 vulgar, which so frequently connect that which is unusual with 
 what is supernatural'. 
 
 Such, in form and habits, was the little female, who, holding in 
 her hand a small old-fashioned ebony rod, which might have passed 
 for a divining wand, confronted Julian on the lop of the flight of 
 steps which led down the rock from the Castle-court. We ought 
 to observe, that as Julian's manner to the unfortunate girl had been 
 always gentle, and free from those tcazing jests in which his gay 
 friend indulged, with less regard to the peculiarity of her situation 
 and feelings ^ so Fenella, on her part, had usually shown much 
 greater deference to him than to any of the household, her mis- 
 tress, the Countess, always excepted. 
 
 On the present occasion, planting herself in the very midst of the 
 narrow descent, so as to make it impossible for Peveril to pass by 
 her, she proceeded to put him to the question by a series of ges- 
 tures, which we will endeavour to describe. She commenced by 
 extending her hand slightly, accompanied with the sharp inquisi- 
 tive look which served her as a note of interrogation. This was 
 
 ' Note, p. 191. Mam SupersUUoBs. 
 
188 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 meant as an enquiry whelher he was going to a distance. Julian, 
 in reply, extended his arm more than half, to intimate that the dis- 
 tance was considerable. Fenella looked grave, shook her head, and 
 pointed to the Countess's window, which was visible from the spot 
 where they stood. Peveril smiled, and nodded, to intimate there 
 was no danger in quitting her mistress for a short space. The 
 little maiden next touched an eagle's feather which she wore in 
 her hair, a sign which she usually employed to designate the 
 Earl, and then looked inquisitively at Julian once more, as if to 
 say, ''Goes he with you ?'' Peveril shook his head, and, some- 
 what wearied by interrogatories, smiled, and made an effort to 
 pass. Fenella frowned, struck the end of her ebony rod perpendi- 
 cularly on the ground, and again shook her head, as if opposing 
 his departure. But finding that Julian persevered in his purpose, 
 she suddenly assumed another and a milder mood, held him by the 
 skirt of his cloak with one hand, and raised the other in an implor- 
 ing attitude, whilst every feature of her lively countenance was 
 composed into the like expression of supplication ; and the fire of 
 the large dark eyes, which appeared in general so keen and pier- 
 cing as almost to over-animate the little sphere to which they be- 
 longed, seemed quenched, for the moment, in the large drops 
 which hung on her long eyelashes, but without falling. 
 
 Julian Peveril was far from being void of sympathy towards the 
 poor girl, whose motives in opposing his departure appeared to be 
 her affectionate apprehension for her mistress's safety. He endea- 
 voured ;to reassure her by smiles, and, at the same time, by such 
 signs as he could devise, to intimate that there was no danger, and 
 that he would return presently 5 and having succeeded in extri- 
 cating his cloak from her grasp and in passing her on the stair, 
 he began to descend the steps as speedily as he could, in order to 
 avoid farther importunity. 
 
 But with activity much greater than his, the dumb maiden has- 
 tened to intercept him, and" succeeded by throwing herself, at the 
 imminent risk of life and limb, a second time into the pass which 
 he was descending, so as to interrupt his purpose. In order to 
 achieve this, she was obliged to let herself drop a considerable height 
 from the wall of a small flanking battery, where two patereroes were 
 placed to scour llie pass, in case any enemy could have mounted so 
 high. Julian had scarce time to shudder at her purpose, as he beheld 
 her about to spring from the parapet, ere, like a thing of gossamer, 
 she stood light and uninjured on the rocky platform below. He en- 
 deavoured, by the gravity of his look and gesture, to make her un- 
 derstand how much he blamed her rashness, but the reproof, though 
 obviously quite intelligible, was entirely thrown away. A hasty 
 wave of her hand intimated how she contemned the danger and the 
 remonstrance \ while at the same time she instantly resumed, with 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 189 
 
 more eagerness than before, the earnest and inripressive gestures by 
 which she endeavoured to detain him in the fortress. 
 
 JuHan was somewhat staggered by her pertinacity. '' Is it pos- 
 sible," he thought, " that any danger can approach the Countess, 
 of which this poor maiden has, by the extreme acuteness of her 
 observation, obtained knowledge which has escaped others?" 
 
 He signed to Fenella hastily to give him the (ablets and the pen- 
 cil which she usually carried with her, and wrote on them the ques- 
 tion, " Is there danger near to your mistress, that you thus stop 
 mer 
 
 *' There is danger around (he Countess," was the answer instantly 
 written down 5 " but there is much more in your own purpose." 
 
 " How? — what? — what know you of my purpose!" said Julian, 
 forgetting, in his surprise, that the party he addressed, had neither 
 ear to comprehend, nor voice to reply, to uttered language. She 
 had regained her book in the meantime, and sketched, with a rapid 
 pencil, on one of the leaves, a scene which she showed to Julian. 
 To his infinite surprise he recognised Goddard Crovan's stone, a 
 remarkable monument, of which she had given the outline with 
 sufficient accuracy ; together with a male and female figure, which, 
 though only indicated by a few slight touches of the pencil, bore 
 yet, he thought, some resemblance to himself and Alice Bridgenorlh. 
 
 When he had gazed on the sketch for an instant with surprise, 
 Fenella took the book from his hand, laid her finger upon the draw- 
 ing, and slowly and sternly shook her head, with a frown which 
 seemed (0 prohibit the meeting which was there represented. Julian, 
 however, though disconcerted, was in no shape disposed to submit 
 to the authority of his monilress. By whatever means she, who so 
 seldom stirred from the Countess's apartment, had become ac- 
 quainted with a secret which he thought entirely his own, he es- 
 teemed it the more necessary to keep the appointed rendezvous, that 
 he might learn from Alice, if possible, how the secret had transpired. 
 He had also formed the intention of seeking out Bridgenorth 5 enter- 
 taining an idea that a person so reasonable and calm as he had 
 shown himself in their late conference, might be persuaded, when 
 he understood that the Countess was aware of his intrigues, to put 
 an end to her danger and his own, by withdrawing from the island. 
 And could he succeed in this point, he should at once, he thought, 
 render a material benefit to the father of his beloved Alice — remove 
 the Earl from his state of anxiety — save the Countess from a second 
 time putting her feudal jurisdiction in opposition to that of the 
 Crown of England — and secure quiet possession of the island to her 
 and her family. 
 
 "With this scheme of mediation in his mind, Peveril determined 
 to rid himself of the opposition of Fenella to his departure, with less 
 ceremony than he had hitherto observed towards her j and suddenly 
 
190 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 lifting up the damsel in his arms before she was aware of his pur- 
 pose, he turned about, set her down on the steps above him, and 
 began to descend the pass himself as speedily as possible. It was 
 then that the dumb maiden gave full course to the vehemence of 
 her disposition ; and clapping her hands repeatedly, expressed her 
 displeasure in a sound, or rather a shriek, so extremely dissonant, 
 that it resembled more the cry of a wild creature, than any thing 
 which could have been uttered by female organs. Peveril was so 
 astounded at the scream, as it rung through the living rocks, that 
 he could not help stopping and looking back in alarm, to satisfy 
 himself that she had not sustained some injury. He saw her, how- 
 ever, perfectly safe, though her face seemed inflamed and dis- 
 torted with passion. She stamped at him with her foot, shook her 
 clenched hand, and turning her back upon him, without farther 
 adieu, ran up the rude steps as lightly as a kid could have tripped 
 up that rugged ascent, and paused for a moment at the summit of 
 the first flight. 
 
 Julian could feel nothing but wonder and compassion for the im- 
 potent passion of a being so unfortunately circumstanced, cut off, 
 as it were, from the rest of mankind, and incapable of receiving in 
 childhood that moral discipline which teaches us mastery of our 
 wayward passions, ere yet they have attained theirmeridianstrength 
 and violence. He waved his hand to her, in token of amicable fare- 
 well 5 but she only replied by once more menacing him with her 
 little hand clenched^ and then ascending the rocky staircase with 
 almost preternatural speed, was soon out of sight. 
 
 .Tulian, on his part, gave no farther consideration to her conduct 
 or its motives, but hastening to the village on the mainland, where 
 the stables of the Castle were situated, he again look his palfrey 
 from the stall, and was soon mounted and on his way to the ap- 
 pointed place of rendezvous, much marvelling, as he ambled for- 
 ward with speed far greater than was promised by the diminutive 
 size of the animal he was mounted on, what could have happened 
 to produce so great a change in Alice's conduct towards him, that 
 in place of enjoining his absence as usual, or recommending his 
 departure from the island, she should now voluntarily invite him to 
 a meeting. Under impression of the various doubts which succeeded 
 each other in his imagination, he sometimes pressed Fairy's sides 
 with his legs -, sometimes laid his holly rod lightly on her neck ^ 
 sometimes incited her by his voice, for the mettled animal needed 
 neither whip nor spur, and achieved the distance betwixt the Castle 
 of Holm-Peel and the stone at Goddard Crovan, at the rale of 
 twelve miles within the hour. 
 
 The monumental stone, designed lo commemorate some feat of an 
 ancient King of Man, which had been long forgotten, was erected 
 on Ihesideof a narrow lonely valley, or rather glen, secluded from 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 191 
 
 observation by (he steepness of its banks, upon a projection of 
 which stood the tall, shapeless, solitary rock, frowning, like a 
 shrouded giant, over the brawling of the small rivulet which watered 
 the ravine. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Note, p. 187. — Manx Superstitions. 
 
 The slory often alludes to the various superstitions which are, or at least were, re 
 ceived by the inhabitants of the Isle of Man, an ancient Celtic race, still speaking the 
 language of their fathers. They retained a plentiful stock of those wild legends which 
 overawed the reason of a dark age, and in our own time annoy the imagination of those 
 who listen to the fascination of the tale, while they despise its claims to belief. The fol- 
 lowing curious legendary traditions are extracted from Waldron, a huge mine, in which 
 I have attempted to discover some specimens of spar, if I cannot And treasure. 
 
 " 'Tis this ignorance," meaning that of the islanders," which is the occasion of the 
 excessive superstition which reigns among them. I have already given some hints of it, 
 but not enough to show the world what a Manksman truly is, and what power the preju- 
 dice of education has over weak minds. If books were of any use among them, one 
 would swear the Count of Gabalis had been not only translated into the Manks tongue, 
 but that it was a sort of rule of faith to them, since there is no Gctilious being mentioned 
 by him, in his book of absurdities, which they would not readily give credit to. I know 
 not, idolizers as they are of the clergy, whether they would not be even refractory to 
 them, were they to preach against the existence of fairies, or even against their being 
 commonly seen ; for though the priesthood are a kind of gods among them, yet still tra- 
 dition is a greater god than they ; and as they confldently assert that the first inhabitants 
 of their island were fairies, so do they maintain that these little people have still their 
 residence among them. They call them the Good People, and say they live in wilds and 
 forests, and on mountains, and shun great cities because of the wickedness acted therein ; 
 all the houses are blest where they visit, for they fly vice. A person would be thought 
 impudently profane, who should suffer his family to go to bed without having first set a 
 tub, or pail, full of clean water, for these guests to bathe themselves in, which the natives 
 aver they constantly do, as soon as ever the eyes of the family are closed, wherever they 
 vouchsafe to come. If any thing happen to be mislaid, and found again in some place 
 where it was not expected, they presently tell you a fairy took it and returned it; if you 
 chance to get a fall and hurt yourself, a fairy laid something in your way to throw you 
 down, as a punishment for some sin you have committed. I have heard many of them 
 protest they have been carried insensibly great distances from home, and, without 
 knowing how they came there, found themselves on the top of a mountain. One story 
 in particular was told me of a man who had been led by invisible musicians for several 
 miles together; and not being able to resist the harmony, followed till it conducted him 
 to a large common, where were a great number of little people silting round a table, and 
 eating and drinking in a very jovial manner. Among them were some faces whom he 
 thought he had formerly seen, but forbore taking any notice, or they of him, till the little 
 people, offering him drink, one of them, whose features seemed not unknown to him, 
 plucked him by the coat, and forbade him, whatever he did, to taste any thing he saw 
 before him; for if you do, added he, you will be as I am, and return no more to your 
 family. The poor man was much affrighted, but resolved to obey the injunction ; accord- 
 ingly, a large silver cup, filled with some sort of liquor, being put into his hand, lie found 
 an opportunity to throw what it contained on the ground. Soon after the music ceasing, 
 all the company disappeared, leaving the cup in his hand, and he returned home, though 
 much wearied and fatigued. He went the next day and communicated to the minister of 
 the parish all that had happened, and asked his advice how he should dispose of the cup ; 
 to which the parson replied, he could not do better than devote it to the service of the 
 church; and this very cup, they tell me, is that which is now used for the consecrated 
 wine in Kerke Merlugh. 
 
 " Another instance they gave me to prove the reality of fairies, was of a Gddier, who, 
 having agreed with a person, who was a stranger, for so much money, to play to some 
 company he should bring him to, all the twelve days of Christmas, and received earnest 
 for it, saw his new master vanish into the earth the moment he had made the bargain. 
 IVothing could be more terrified than was the poor fiddler; he found he had entered 
 himself into the devil's service, and looked on himself as already damned; but having 
 
192 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 recourse also to a clergyman, he received some hope ; he ordered him, however, as he had 
 taken earnest, to go when he should be called; but that whatever tunes should he called 
 for, to play none but psalms. On the day appointed, the same person appeared, with 
 whom he went, though with what inward reluctance 'tis easy to guess; but punctually 
 obeying the minister's directions, the company to whom he played were so angry, that 
 they all vanished at once, leaving him at the top of a high hill, and so bruised and hurt, 
 though he was not sensible when, or from what hand he received the blows, that he got 
 not home without the utmost difRculty. The old story of infants being changed in their 
 cradles, is here in such credit, that mothers are in continual terror at the thoughts of it. 
 I was prevailed upon myself to go and see a child, who they told me was one of these 
 changelings; and, indeed, must own was not a little surprised, as well as shocked, at the 
 sight : nothing under heaven could have a more beautiful face ; but though between five 
 and six years old, and seemingly healthy, he was so far from being able to walk or stand, 
 that he could not so much as move any one joint ; his limbs were vastly long for his age, 
 but smaller than an infant's of six months ; his complexion was perfectly delicate, and he 
 had the finest hair in the world ; he never spoke nor cried, eat scarce any thing, and was 
 very seldom seen to smile; but if any one called him a fairy-elf, he would frown and fix 
 his eyes so earnestly on those who said it, as if he would look them through. His mother, 
 or at least his supposed mother, being very poor, frequently went out a-chairing, and left 
 him a whole day together ; the neighbours, out of curiosity, have often looked in at the 
 window to see how he behaved when alone; which, whenever they did, they were sure to 
 find him laughing, and in the utmost delight. This made them judge that he was not 
 without company more pleasing to him than any mortals could be ; and what made this 
 conjecture seem the more reasonable, was, that, if he were left ever so dirty, the woman, 
 at her return, saw him with a clean face, and his hair combed with the utmost exactness 
 and nicety, 
 
 " A second account of this nature I had from a woman to whose offspring the fairies 
 seemed to have taken a particular fancy. The fourth or fifth night after she was delivered 
 of her first child, the family were alarmed with a most terrible cry of fire, on which every 
 body ran out of the house to see whence it proceeded, not excepting the nurse, who, 
 heing as much frighted as the others, made one of the number. The poor woman lay 
 trembling in her bed alone, unable to help herself, and her back being turned to the 
 infant, saw not that it was taken away by an invisible hand. Those who had left her 
 having enquired about the neighbourhood, and finding there was no cause for the outcry 
 they had heard, laughed at each other for the mistake ; but as they were going to re-enter 
 the house, the poor babe lay on the threshold, and by its cries preserved itself from 
 being trod upon. This exceedingly amazed all that saw it, and the mother being still in 
 bed, they could ascribe no reason for finding it there, but having been removed by fairies, 
 who, by their sudden return, had been prevented from carrying it any farther. About a 
 year after, the same woman was brought to bed of a second child, which had not been 
 borne many nights before a great noise was heard in the house where they kept their 
 cattle (for in this island, where there is no shelter in the fields from the excessive cold 
 and damps, they put all their milch-kine into a barn, which they call a cattle-house). 
 Every body that was stirring ran to see what was the matter, believing that the cows had 
 got loose ; the nurse was as ready as the rest, but, finding all safe, and the barn door 
 close, immediately returned, but not so suddenly but that the new-born babe was taken 
 out of the bed, as the former had been, and dropt on their coming, in the middle of the 
 entry. This was enough to prove the fairies had made a second attempt; and the parents 
 sending for a minister, joined with him in thanksgiving to God, who had twice delivered 
 their children from being taken from them. But in the time of her third lying-in, every 
 body seemed to have forgot what had happened in the first and second, and on a noise in 
 the cattle-house, ran out to know what had occasioned it. The nurse was the only 
 person, excepting the woman in the straw, who stay'd in the house, nor was she detained 
 through care or want of curiosity, but by the bonds of sleep, having drank a little too 
 plentifully the preceding day. The mother, who was broad awake, saw her child lifted 
 out of the bed, and carried out of the chamber, though she could not see any person touch 
 it; on which she cried out as loud as she could. Nurse, nurse! my child, my child, is 
 taken away! but the old woman was too fast to be awakened by the noise she made, and 
 the infant was irretrievably gone. When her husband, and those who had accompanied 
 him, returned, they found her wringing her hands, and uttering the most piteous lamen- 
 tations for the loss of her child ; on which, said the husband, looking into the bed. The 
 woman is mad, do not you see the child lies by you? On which she turned, and saw 
 indeed something like a child, but far different from her own, who was a very beautiful, 
 fat, well-featured babe ; whereas, what was now in the room of it, was a poor, lean, 
 withered, deformed creature. It lay quite naked, but the clothes belonging to the child 
 that was exchanged for it, lay wrapt up altogether on the bed. This creature lived with 
 them near the space of nine years, in all which lime it eat nothing except a few herbs, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 193 
 
 nor was ever seen to void any other excrement than water. It neither spoke, nor could 
 stand or go, but seemed enervate in every joint, like the changeling I mentioned before, 
 and in all its actions showed itself to be of the same nature. 
 
 " A woman who lived about two miles distant from Ballasalli, and used to serve my 
 family with butter, made me once very merry with a story she told me of her daughter, 
 a girl of about ten years old, who being sent over the fields to the town, for a pennyworth 
 of tobacco for her father, was on the top of a mountain surrounded by a great number of 
 little men, who would not suffer her to pass any farther. Some of them said she should 
 go wilh them, and accordingly laid hold of her; but one seeming more pitiful, desired 
 they would let her alone ; which they refusing, there ensued a quarrel, and the person 
 who took her part fought bravely in her defence. This so incensed the others, that to be 
 revenged on her for being the cause, two or three of them seized her, and pulling up her 
 clothes, whipped her heartily ; after which, it seems, they had no further power over her, 
 and she run home directly, telling what had befallen her, and showing her buttocks, on 
 which were the prints of several small hands. Several of the townspeople went with her 
 to the mountain, and sbe conducting them to the spot, the little antagonists were gone, 
 but had left behind them proofs (as the good woman said) that what the girl had informed 
 them Avas true, for there was a great deal of blood to be seen on the stones. This did she 
 aver wilh all the solemnity imaginable. 
 
 " Another woman, equally superstitious and fanciful as the former, told me, that being 
 great wilh child, and expecting every moment the good hour, as she lay awake one night 
 in her bed, she saw seven or eight little women come into her chamber, one of whom 
 had an infant in her arms; they were followedby amanof thesamesize wilh themselves, 
 but in the habit of a minister. One of them went to the pail, and finding no water in it, 
 cried out to the others, what must they do to christen the child ? On which they replied , 
 it should be done in beer. Wilh that the seeming parson took the child in his arms, and 
 performed the ceremony of baptism, dipping his hand into a great tub of strong beer, 
 which the woman had brewed the day before to be ready for her lying-in. She told me 
 that they baptized the infant by the name of Joan, which made her know she was 
 pregnant of a girl, as it proved a few days after, when she was delivered. She added also, 
 that it was common for the fairies to make a mock christening when any person was near 
 her time, and that according to what child male or female they brought, such should the 
 woman bring into the world. 
 
 " But I cannot give over this subject without mentioning what they say befell a young 
 sailor, who, coming off a long voyage, though it was late at night, chose to land rather 
 than be another night in the vessel; being permitted to do so, he was set on shore at 
 Douglas. ] t happened to be a fine moonlight night, and very dry, being a small frost ; he 
 therefore forbore going into any house to refresh himself, but made the best of his way to 
 the house of a sister he had at Kirk-Merlugh. As he was going over a pretty high 
 mountain, he heard the noise of horses, the iiollow of a huntsman, and the finest horn in 
 the world. lie was a little surprised that any body pursued those kinds of sports in the 
 night, but he had not time for much reflexion before they all passed by him, so near, that 
 he was able to count what number there was of them, which, he said, was thirteen, and 
 that they were all dressed in green, and gallantly mounted. He was so well pleased with 
 the sight, that he Mould gladly have followed, could he have kept pace with them ; he 
 crossed the footway, however, that he might see them again, which he did more than 
 once, and lost not the sound of the horn for some miles. At length, being arrived at his 
 sister's, he tells her the story, who presently clapped her hands for joy ihaihe was come 
 home safe ; for, said she, those you saw were fairies, and 'tis well they did not take you 
 away wilh them. There is no persuading them but that these huntings are frequent in 
 the island, and that these little gentry, being too proud no ride on Manks horses, which 
 they might find in the field, make use of tlie English and Jrish ones, which are brought 
 over and kept by gentlemen. They say that nothing is more common than to find these 
 poor beasts, in a morning, all over in a sweat .-nd foam, and tired almost to dealh, when 
 their owners have believed Ihcy have never been out of the stable. A gentleman of 
 Ballafletcher assured me he had three or four of his best horses killed with these noc- 
 turnal journeys. 
 
 " At my first coming into the island, and hearing these sort of stories, I imputed the 
 giving credit to them merely to the simplicity of the poor creatures who related them ; 
 but was strangely surprised when I heard other narratives of this kind and altogether as 
 absurd, attested by men who passed for persons of sound judgment. Among this number, 
 was a gentleman, my near neighbour, who aifirraed with the most solemn asseverations, 
 that being of my opinion, and entirely averse to the belief that any such beings were 
 permitted to wander for the purposes related of them, he had been at last convinced by 
 the appearance of several little figures playing and leaping over some stones in a field, 
 whom at a few yards' distance he imagined were school-boys, and intended, when he 
 came near enough, to reprimand for being absent from their exercises at that time of 
 
 13 
 
194 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 the day, it being then, he said, between three and four of the clock ; but when he ap- 
 proached, as near as he could guess, within twenty paces, they all immediately disap- 
 peared, though he had never taken his eye off ihem from the first moment he beheld 
 them ; nor was there any place where they could so suddenly retreat, it being an open 
 Held without hedge or bush, and, as I said before, broad day, 
 
 '• Another instance, which might serve to strengthen the credit of the other, was told 
 me by a person who had the reputation of the utmost integrity. This man being desirous 
 of disposing of a horse he had at that time no great occasion for, and riding him to market 
 for that purpose, was accosted, in passing over the mountains, by a little man in a plain 
 dress, who asked him if he would sell his horse. Tis the design I am going on, replied 
 the person who told me the story. On which the other desired to know the price. Eight 
 pounds, said he. No, resumed the purchaser, I will give no more than seven ; which if 
 you will take, here is your money, ihe owner, thinking he had bid pretty fair, agreed 
 with him; and the money being told out, the one dismounted, and the other got on the 
 back of the horse, which he had no sooner done, than both beast and rider sunk into the 
 earth immediately, leaving the person who had made the bargain in the utmost terror 
 and consternation. As soon as he had a little recovered himself, he went directly to the 
 parson of the parish, and related what had passed, desiring he would give his opinion 
 whether he ought to make use of the money he had received or not. To which he replied, 
 that as he had made a fair bargain, and no way circumvented, nor endeavoured to cir- 
 cumvent, the buyer, he saw no reason to believe, in case it was an evil spirit, it could 
 have any power over him. On this assurance, he went home well satisfied, and nothing 
 afterward happened to give him any disquiet concerning this affair. 
 
 " A second account of the same nature 1 had from a clergyman, and a person of more 
 sanctity than the generality of his function in this island. It was his custom to pass 
 some hours every evening in a field near his house, indulging meditation, and calling 
 himself to an account for the transactions of the past day. As he was in this place one 
 night, more than ordinarily wrapt in contemplation, he wandered, without thinking where 
 he was, a considerable way farther than it was usual for him to do ; and, as he told me, 
 he knew not how far the deep musing he was in might have carried him, if it had not 
 been suddenly interrupted by a noise, which, at first, he took to be the distant bellowing 
 of a bull ; but as he listened more heediully to it, found there was something more ter- 
 rible in the sound than could proceed from that creature. He confessed to mc, that he 
 was no less affrighted than surprised, especially when the noise coming still nearer, he 
 imagined, whatever it was thai it proceeded from, it must pass him. He had, however, 
 presence enough of mind to place himself with his back to a hedge, where he fell on bis 
 knees, and began to pray to God with all the vehemence so dreadful an occasion required. 
 He had not been long in that position, before he beheld something in the form of a bull, 
 but infinitely larger than ever he had seen in England, much less in Man, where the cattle 
 are very small in general. The eyes, he said, seemed to shoot forth flames, and the run- 
 ning of it was with such a force, that the ground shook under it as an earthquake. It 
 made directly toward a little collage, and thereafter most horribly disappeared. The 
 moon being then at the full, and shining in her utmost splendour, all these passages 
 were visible to our amazed divine, who, having finished his ejaculation, and given thanks 
 to God for his preservation, went to the cottage, the owner of which, they told him, was 
 that moment dead. The good old gentleman was loath to pass a censure which might be 
 judged an uncharitable one; but the deceased having the character of a very ill liver, 
 roost people who heard the story, were apt to imagine this terrible apparition came to 
 attend his last moments. 
 
 " A mighty bustle they also make of an apparition, which, they say, haunts Castle 
 Bussin, in the form of a woman, who was some years since executed for the murder of 
 her child. I have heard not only persons who have been confined there for debt, but also 
 the soldiers of the garrison, affirm ihey have seen it various times ; but what I look most 
 notice of, was the report of a gentleman, of whose good understanding, as well as vera- 
 city, I have a very great opinion. He told mc, that happening lo be abroad late one night, 
 and catched in an excessive storm of wind and rain, he saw a woman stand before the 
 castle gate, where, being not the least shelter, it something surprised him that any body, 
 much less one of that sex, should not rather run to some little porch, or shed, of which 
 there are several in Caslle Town, than chuse to stand still, exposed and alone, to such a 
 dreadful tempest. His curiosity exciting him to draw nearer, that he might discover who 
 it was that seemed so little lo regard the fury of the elements, he perceived she retreated 
 on his approach, and at last, he thought, went into the Castle, though the gates were 
 shut. This obliging him to think he had seen a spirit, sent him home very much terrified ; 
 but the next day, relating his adventure to some people who lived in the Caslle, and de- 
 scribing, as near as he could, the garb and stature of the apparition, they told him it was 
 that of ihe woman above-mentioned, who had been frequently seen, by the soldiers on 
 i^uard, to pass in and out of the gates, as well as to walk through the rooms, though there 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 195 
 
 was no visible means to enter. Though so familiar to the eye, no person has yet, however, 
 had the courage to speak to it, and, as they say a spirit has no power to reveal iis mind 
 without being conjured to do so in a proper manner, the reason of its being permitted lo 
 wander is unknown. 
 
 '' Another story of the like nature I have heard concerning an apparition, which has 
 frequently been seen on a wild common near Kirk Jarmain Mountains, which, ihey say, 
 assumes the shape of a wolf, and fills the air with most terrible bowlings. But having run 
 on so far in the account of supernatural appearances, 1 cannot forget what was told me 
 by an English gentleman, and my particular friend. He was about passing over Douglas 
 Bridge before it was broken down, but the tide being high, he was obliged to take the river, 
 having an excellent horse under him, and one accustomed to swim. As he was in Ihe 
 middle of it, he heard, or imagined he heard, the finest symphony, I will not say in the 
 world, for nothing human ever came up to it. The horse was no less sensible of the har- 
 mony than himself, and kept in an immovable posture all the time it lasted; which, he 
 said, could not be less than three quarters of an hour, according lo the most exact cal- 
 culation he could make, when he arrived at the end of his little journey, and found how 
 long he had been coming. He, who before laughed at all the stories told of fairies, now 
 became a convert, and believed as much as ever a Manksman of them all. As to circles 
 in the grass, and the impression of small feet among the snow, I cannot deny but I have 
 seen them frequently, and once thought I heard a whistle, as though in my ear, when 
 nobody that could make it was near me. For my part, I shall not pretend to determine 
 if such appearances have any reality, or are only the effect of the imagination ; but as 
 I had much rather give credit lo them, than be convinced by ocular demonstration, I 
 shall leave the point to be discussed by those Mho have made it more their study, and 
 only say, that whatever belief we ought to give to some accounts of this kind, ihere are 
 others, and those much more numerous, which merit only lo be laughed at— it not being 
 at all consonant to reason, or the idea religion tives us of the fallen angels, to suppose 
 spirits, so eminent in wisdom and knowledge, as to be ejfteeded by nothing but their 
 Creator, should visit the earlh for such trifling purposes as to throw bottles and glasses 
 about a room, and a thousand olher as ridiculous gambols mentioned in those voluminous 
 treatises of apparitions. 
 
 " The natives of ihis island tell you also, that before any person dies, the procession 
 of the funeral is acted by a sort of beings, which for that end render themselves visible. 
 1 know several ihat have offered to make oath, that as they have been passing the road, 
 one of these funerals has come behind them, and even laid the bier on their shoulders, 
 as though to assist the hearers. One person, who assured me he had been served so, told 
 me that the flesh of his shoulder had been very much bruised, and was black for many 
 weeks after. There are few or none of them who pretend not to have seen or heard these 
 imaginary obsequies (fori must not omit that Ihey sing psalms in the same manner as 
 those do who accompany Ihe corpse of a dead friend), which so little differ from real 
 ones, that they are not to be known till both coffin and mourners are seen to vanish at 
 the church doors. These Ihey take to be a sort of friendly demons, and their business, 
 they say, is to warn people of what is lo befall them ; accordingly, they give notice of 
 any stranger's approach, by the trampling of horses at the gate of the house where ihey 
 are to arrive. As difficult as I found it to bring myself to give any faith lo this, 1 have 
 frequently been very much surprised, when, on visiting a friend, 1 have found the table 
 ready spread, and every thing in order to receive me, and been told by the person to 
 whom I went, that he had knowledge of my coming, or some olher guest, by these good- 
 natured intelligencers ; nay, when obliged to be absent some time from home, my own 
 servants have assured me they were informed by these means of my return, and expected 
 me the very hour I came, though perhaps it was some days before I hoped it myself at 
 my going abroad- That this is fact, I am positively convinced by many proofs; but how 
 or wherefore it should be so, has frequently given me much matter of reflection, yet left 
 me in ihe same uncerlainly as before. Here, therefore, I will quit the subject, and pro- 
 ceed to things much easier to be accounted for."— Waldron's Description of the Isle of 
 Mau,ioUo, 1731, p. 125. 
 
 This long quotation is extremely curious, as containing an account of those very 
 superstitions in the Isle of Man, which are frequently collected both in Ireland and in 
 the Highlands of Scotland, and which have employed the attention of Mr. Croflon Croker, 
 and of the author of the fairy Mythology. The superstitions are in every respect so like 
 each other that they may be referred to one common source; unless we conclude that 
 they are natural to the human mind, and, like the common orders of vegetables, which 
 naturally spring up in every climate, these naturally arise in every bosom; as the best 
 philologists are of opinion, that fragments of an original speech are to be discovered in 
 almost all languages in the globe. 
 
J 96 PEVf-RIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI r. 
 
 This a love-meeling? See the maiden mourns, 
 And the sad suitor bends his looks on earth. 
 There's more hath pass'd between them than belongs 
 To Love's sweet sorrows. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 As he approached Ihe monument of Goddard Crovan, JuHan casi 
 many an anxious glance to see whether any object visible beside 
 the huge grey stone should apprise him, whether he was anticipated, 
 at the appointed place of rendezvous, by her who had named it. 
 Nor was it long before the flutter of a mantle, which the breeze 
 slightly waved, and the motion necessary to replace it upon the 
 wearer's shoulders, made him aware that Alice had already reached 
 their place of meeting. One instant set the palfrey at liberty, with 
 slackened girths and loosened reins, to pick its own way through 
 the dell at will •, another placed Julian Peveril by the side of Alice 
 Bridgenorth. 
 
 That Alice should extend her hand to her lover, as witli the 
 ardour of a young greyhound he bounded over the obstacles of the 
 rugged path, was as natural as that Julian, seizing on the hand so 
 kindly stretched out, should devour it with kisses, and, for a mo- 
 ment or two, without reprehension •, while the other hand, which 
 should have aided in the liberation of its fellow, served to hide the 
 blushes of the fair owner. But Alice, young as she was, and at- 
 tached to Julian by such long habits of kindly intimacy, slill knew 
 well how to subdue the tendency of her own treacherous affections. 
 
 " This is not right," she said, extricating her hand from Julian's 
 grasp, " this is not right, Julian. If I have been too rash in ad- 
 milling such a meeting as the present, it is not you Ihat should 
 make me sensible of my folly." 
 
 Julian Peveril's mind had been early illumined with that touch 
 of romantic fire which deprives passion of selfishness, and confers 
 on it the high and refined tone of generous and disinterested de- 
 votion. He lei go Ihe hand of Alice with as much respect as ho 
 could have paid lo that of a princess j and when she sealed herself 
 upon a rocky fragment, over which nature had stretched a cushioo 
 of moss and lichen, interspersed with wild flowers, backed with a 
 bush of copsewood, he look his place beside her, indeed, but at 
 such distance as lo intimate the duly of an attendant, who was there 
 only lo hear and lo obey. Alice Bridgenorth became more assured 
 as she observed the power which she possessed over her lover; 
 and the self-command which Peveril exhibited, which other damsels 
 in her situation might have judged inconsistent with intensity of 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 197 
 
 passion, she appreciated more justly, as a proof of his respectful 
 and disinterested sincerity. She recovered, in addressing him, the 
 tone of confidence which rather belonged to the scenes of their early 
 acquaintance, than to those which had passed betwixt them since 
 Peveril had disclosed his affection, and thereby had brought restraint 
 upon their intercourse. 
 
 " Julian," she said, " your visit of yesterday— your most ill- 
 limed visit, has distressed me much. It has misled my father — it 
 has endangered you. At all risks, I resolved that you should know 
 this, and blame me not if I have taken a bold and imprudent step 
 in desiring this solitary interview, since you are aware how little 
 poor Deborah is to be trusted." 
 
 ^' Can you fear misconstruction from me, Alice?" replied Peveril, 
 warmly; " from me, whom you have thus highly favoured — thus 
 deeply obliged?" 
 
 " Cease your protestations, Julian," answered the maiden, ''they 
 do but make me the more sensible that I have acted over boldly. 
 But I did for the best.— I could not see you whom I have known so 
 long — you, who say you regard me with partiality" 
 
 *' Say that I regard you with partiality !" interrupted Peveril in 
 his turn. "Ah, Alice, what a cold and doubtful phrase you have 
 used to express the most devoted, the most sincere affection!" 
 
 " Well, then," said Alice, sadly, " we will not quarrel about 
 words ^ but do not again interrupt me. — I could not, I say, see you 
 who, I believe, regard me with sincere though vain and fruitless 
 attachment, rush blindfold into a snare, deceived and seduced by 
 those very feelings towards me." 
 
 " I understand you not, Alice," said Peveril 5 " nor can I see any 
 danger to which I am at present exposed. The sentiments which 
 your father has expressed towards me, are of a nature irreconcilable 
 with hostile purposes. If he is not offended with the bold wish I 
 may have formed, and his whole behaviour shows the contrary, 
 I know not a man on earth from I have less cause to apprehend 
 any danger or ill-will." 
 
 ''My father," said Alice, "means well by his country, and well 
 by you; yet I sometimes fear he may rallier injure than serve his 
 good cause ; and still more do I dread, that in attempting to engage 
 you as an auxiliary, he may forget those ties which ought to bind 
 you, and I am sure which will bind you, to a different line of con- 
 duct from his own." 
 
 "You lead me into still deeper darkness, Alice," answered Peve- 
 ril. "That your father's especial line of politics differs widely from 
 mine, I know well; but how many instances have occurred, even 
 during the bloody scenes of civil warfare, of good and worthy men 
 laying the prejudice of parly affections aside, and regarding each 
 
198 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Other wilh respect, and even with friendly attachment, without 
 being false to principle on either side?" 
 
 " It may be so," said Alice; ''but such is not the league which 
 my father desires to form wilh you, and that to which he hopes 
 your misplaced partiality towards his daughter may afford a mo- 
 tive for your forming wilh him." 
 
 "And what is it," said Peveril, "which I would refuse, wilh 
 such a prospect before me?" 
 
 " Treachery and dishonour!" replied Alice 5 " whatever would 
 render you unworthy of the poor boon at which you aim — ay, were 
 it more worthless than 1 confess it to be." 
 
 "Would your father," said Peveril, as he unwilhngly received 
 the impression which Alice designed to convey, — "would he, whose 
 views of duty are so strict and severe — would he wish to involve me 
 in aught, to which such harsh epithets as treachery and dishonour 
 can be applied wilh the slightest shadow of truth?" 
 
 "Do not mistake me, Julian,". replied the maiden-, " my father 
 is incapable of requesting aught of you that is not lo his thinking 
 just and honourable ; nay, he conceives that he only claims from 
 you a debt, which is due as a creature to the creator, and as a man 
 to your fellow-men." 
 
 " So guarded, where can be the danger of our intercourse?" re- 
 plied Julian. "If he be resolved to require, and I determined to 
 accede to, nothing save what flows from conviction, what have I to 
 fear, Alice? And how is my intercourse with you father dangerous? 
 Believe not so •, his speech has already made impression on me in 
 some particulars, and he listened with candour and patience lo the 
 objections which I made occasionally. You do Master Bridgenorlh 
 less than justice in confounding him with the unreasonable bigots 
 in policy and religion, who can listen to no argument but what 
 favours their own prepossessions." 
 
 "Julian," replied AHce, "it is you who misjudge my father's 
 powers, and his purpose with respect to you, and who overrate 
 your own powers of resistance. I am but a girl, but I have been 
 taught by circumstances to think for myself, and to consider the 
 character of those who are around me. My father's views in eccle- 
 siastical and civil policy, are as dear to him as the life which he 
 cherishes only to advance them. They have been, wilh little altera- 
 tion, his companions ihrough life. They brought him at one period 
 into prosperity, and when they suited not the times, he suffered for 
 having held them. They have become not only a part, but the very 
 dearest part, of his existence. If he shows them not to you at first, 
 in the inflexible strength which they have acquired over his mind, 
 do not believe that they are the less powerful. He who desires lo 
 make converts must begin by degrees. But that he should sacrifice 
 to an inexperienced young man, whose ruling motive he will term 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 199 
 
 a childish passion, any part of those treasured principles which he 
 has maintained through good repute and bad repute — O, do not 
 dream of such an impossibility ! If you meet at all, you must be the 
 wax, he the seal — you must receive' — he must bestow an absolute 
 impression." 
 
 "That," said Peveril, " were unreasonable. I will frankly avow 
 to you, Alice, that I am not a sworn bigot to the opinions enter- 
 tained by my father, much as I respect his person. I could wish 
 that our cavaliers, or whatsoever they are pleased to call themselves, 
 would have some more charity towards those who differ from them 
 in Church and State. But to hope that I would surrender the prin- 
 ciples in which I have lived, were to suppose me capable of desert- 
 ing my benefactress, and breaking the hearts of my parents." 
 
 " Even so I judged of you," answered Alice ^ " and, therefore 
 I asked this interview, to conjure that you will break otT all inter- 
 course with our family — return to your parents— or, what will be 
 much safer, visit the continent once more, and abide till God 
 sends better days to England, for these are black with many a 
 storm." 
 
 "And can you bid me go, Alice," said the young man, taking 
 her unresisting hand •, "can you bid me go, and yet own an interest 
 in my fate? — Can you bid me, for fear of dangers, which, as a man, 
 and a$ a gentleman, and a loyal one, I am bound to show my face 
 to, meanly abandon my parents, my friends, my country — suffer 
 the existence of evils which I might aid to prevent, forego the pro- 
 spect of doing such Utile good as might be in my power — fall from 
 an active and honourable station, into the condition of a fugitive 
 and time-server— Can you bid me do all this, Alice? Can you bid 
 me do all this, and, in the same breath, bid farewell for ever to you 
 and happiness? — It is impossible— I cannot surrender at once my 
 love and my honour." 
 
 " There is no remedy," said Alice, but she could not suppress a 
 sigh while she said so — "there is no remedy — none whatever. 
 What we might have been to each other, placed in more favourable 
 circumstances, it avails not to think of now ; and, circumstanced as 
 we are, with open war about to break out betwixt our parents and 
 friends, we can be but well-wishers — cold and distant well-wishers 
 who must part on this spot, and at this hour, never to meet again." 
 
 "No, by Heaven I" said Peveril, animated at the same lime by 
 his own feelings, and by the sight of the emotions which his com- 
 panion in vain endeavoured to suppress — "No, by Heaven!" he 
 exclaimed, "we part not — Alice, we part not. If I am to leave my 
 native land, you shall be my companion in my exile. What have 
 you to lose? — Whom have you to abandon? — Your father? — The 
 good old cause, as it is termed, is dearer to him than a thousand 
 daughters j and setting him aside, what lie is there between you and 
 
200 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 this barren isle — between my Alice and any s{3ot of the Brilish 
 dominions, where her Julian does not sit by her?" 
 
 "Oh, Julian," answered the maiden, " why make my duly more 
 painful by visionary projects, which you ought not to name, or I 
 to listen lo? — Your parents — my father — it cannot be !*' 
 
 " Fear not for my parents, Alice," replied Julian, and pressing 
 close to his companion's side, he ventured to throw his arm around 
 her 5 "they love me, and they will soon learn to love, in Alice, the 
 only being on earth who could have rendered their son happy. 
 And for your own father, when State and Church intrigues allow 
 him to bestow a thought upon you, will he not think that your 
 happiness, your security, is better cared for when you are my wife, 
 than were you to conlinue under (he mercenary charge of yonder 
 foolish woman? What could his pride desire belter for you, than 
 the establishment which will one day be mine? Come then, AHce, 
 and since you condemn me to banishment— since you deny me a 
 share in those stirring achievements which are about to agitate 
 England - come I do you, for you only can, do you reconcile me to 
 exile and inaction, and give happiness to one, who, for your sake, 
 is willing to resign honour I" 
 
 "It cannot — it cannot be," said Alice, faltering as she uttered 
 her negative. "And yet," she said, " how many in my place — left 
 alone and unprotected, as I am — But I must not— I must not — for 
 your sake, Julian, I must noli" 
 
 " Say not for my sake you must not, Alice," said Peveril, eager- 
 ly; "this is adding insult lo cruelty. If you will do aught for my 
 sake, you will say yes ; or you will suffer this dear head to drop on 
 my shoulder — the slightest sign — the moving of an eyelid, shall 
 signify consent. All shall be prepared within an hour ; within 
 another, the priest shall unite us; and within a third, we leave the 
 isle behind us, and seek our fortunes on the continent." But while 
 bespoke, in joyful anticipation of the consent which he implored, 
 Alice found means to collect together her resolution, which, stag- 
 gered by the eagerness of her lover, the impulse of her own afTec- 
 tions, and the singularity of her situation, — seeming, in her case, 
 to justify what would have been most blameable in another, — had 
 more than half abandoned her. 
 
 The result of a moment's deliberation was fatal lo Julian's pro- 
 posal. She extricated herself from the arm which had pressed her 
 to his side — arose, and repelling his attempts to approach or detain 
 her, said, with a simplicity not unmingled with dignity, "Julian, 
 I always knew [ risked much in inviting you to this meeting; but 
 I did not guess that I could have been so cruel both to you and to 
 myself, as lo suffer you to discover what you have to-day seen too 
 plainly — that I love you better than you love me. But since you do 
 know it, I will show you that Alice's love is disinterested— She will 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 201 
 
 not bring an ignoble name into your ancient house. If liereafter, in 
 your line, there should arise some who may think Ihe claims of the 
 hierarchy too exorbitant, the powers of the crown too extensive, 
 men shall not say these ideas were derived from Alice Bridgenorth, 
 their whig grand-dame." 
 
 "Can you speak thus, Alice?" said her lover. "Can you use 
 such expressions? and are you nol sensible thai they show plainly 
 it is your own pride, not regard for me, that makes you resist the 
 happiness of bolh?" 
 
 "Nol so, Julian ; not so," answered Alice, with lears in her eyes ^ 
 " it is the command of duly to us both — of duly, which we cannot 
 transgress, without risking our happiness here and hereafter. 
 Think what I, the cause of all, should feel, when your father frowns, 
 your mother weeps, your noble friends stand aloof, and you, even 
 you yourself, shall have made the painful discovery, that you have 
 incurred the contempt and resentment of all to satisfy a boyish 
 passion^ and that the poor beauty, once sufficient to mislead you, 
 is gradually declining under the influence of grief and vexation ! 
 This I will not risk. I see distinctly it is best we should here break 
 off and part ^ and I thank God, who gives me light enough to 
 perceive, and strength enough to withstand, your folly as well as my 
 own. Farewell, then, Julian ^ but first take the solemn advice which 
 I called you hither to impart to you : — Shun my father— you cannot 
 walk in his paths, and be true to gratitude and to honour. What he 
 doth from pure and honourable motives, you cannot aid him in, 
 except upon the suggestion of a silly and interested passion, at 
 variance with all the engagements you have formed at coming into 
 life." 
 
 " Once more, Alice," answered Julian, " I understand you not. 
 If a course of action is good, it needs no vindication from the actor's 
 motives — if bad, it can derive none." 
 
 " You cannot blind me with your sophistry, Julian," replied 
 Alice Bridgenorth, " any more than you can overpower me with 
 your passion. Had the patriarch destined his son to dealh upon 
 any less ground than faith and humble obedience to a divine com- 
 mandment, he had medilated a murder and not a sacrifice. In our 
 late bloody and lamentable wars, how many drew swords on either 
 side, from the purest and most honourable motives? How many 
 from the culpable suggestions of ambition, self-seeking, and love 
 of plunder? Yet while they marched in the same ranks, and spur- 
 red their horses at the same trumpet-sound, the memory of the 
 former is dear to us as patriots or loyalists— that of those who acted 
 on mean or unworthy promptings, is either execrated or forgotten. 
 Once more, I warn you, avoid my father— leave this island, which 
 will be soon agitated by strange incidents— while you stay, be on 
 your guard — distrust every thing— be jealous of every one, even 
 
$0i PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 of those lo whom it may seem almost impossible, from circum- 
 stances, to attach a shadow of suspicion — trust not the very stones 
 of the most secret apartment in Holm-Peel, for that which hath 
 wings shall carry the matter." 
 
 Here Alice broke off suddenly, and with a faint shriek ; for, 
 stepping from behind the stunted copse which had concealed him, 
 her father stood unexpectedly before them. 
 
 The reader cannot have forgotten that this was the second time 
 in which the stolen interviews of the lovers had been interrupted 
 by the unexpected apparition of Major Bridgenorlh. On this se- 
 cond occasion, his countenance exhibited anger mixed with solem- 
 nity, like that of the spirit to a ghost-seer, whom he upbraids with 
 having neglected a charge imposed at their first meeting. Even his 
 anger, however, produced no more violent emotion than a cold 
 sternness of manner in his speech and action. "I thank you, 
 Alice," he said to his daughter, " for the pains you have taken to 
 traverse my designs towards this young man, and towards yourself. 
 I thank you for the hints you have thrown out before my appear- 
 ance, the suddenness of which alone has prevented you from carry- 
 ing your confidence to a pitch which would have placed my life 
 and that of others at the discretion of a boy, who, when the cause 
 of God and his country is laid before him, has not leisure to think 
 of them, so much is he occupied with such a baby-face as thine." 
 Alice, pale as death, continued motionless, with her eyes fixed on 
 Ihe ground, without attempting the slightest reply to the ironical 
 reproaches of her father. 
 
 "And you," continued Major Bridgenorth, turning from his 
 daughter to her lover,— "you, sir, have well repaid the liberal 
 confidence which I placed in you with so little reserve. You I have 
 lo thank also for some lessons, which may teach me to rest satis- 
 fied with the churl's blood which nature has poured into my veins, 
 and with the rude nurture which my father allotted lo me." 
 
 " I understand you not, sir," replied Julian Peveril, who, feel- 
 ing the necessity of saying something, could not, at the moment, 
 find any thing more fitting to say. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I thank you," said Major Bridgenorlh, in the same 
 cold sarcastic tone, " for having shown me, that breach of hospi- 
 tality, infringement of good faith, and such like peccadilloes, are 
 not utterly foreign lo the mind and conduct of the heir of a knightly 
 house of twenty descents. It is a great lesson to me, sir-, for 
 hitherto I had thought with the vulgar, that gentle manners went 
 with gentle blood. But perhaps courtesy is too chivalrous a qua- 
 lily lo be wasted in intercourse with a roundheaded fanatic like 
 myself." 
 
 " Major Bridgenorlh," said Julian, " whatever has happened in 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 203 
 
 this inlerview which may have displeased you, has been Ihe result of 
 feelings suddenly and strongly animated by the crisis of Ihc moment 
 — nolhing was premeditated." 
 
 "Not even your meeting, I suppose?" replied Bridgenorlh, in 
 the same cold tone. '^ You, sir, wandered hither from Holm-Peel 
 — my daughter slrolled forlh from the Black Fort ^ and chance, 
 doubtless, assigned you a meeting by the stone of Goddard Crovan? 
 — Young man, disgrace yourself by no more apologies — they are 
 worse than useless. — And you, maiden, who, in your fear of losing 
 your lover, could verge on betraying what might have cost a father 
 his life— begone to your home. I will talk with you at more leisure, 
 and teach you practically those duties which you seem to have for- 
 gotten." 
 
 " On my honour, sir," said Julian, " your daughter is guiltless 
 of all that can offend you ; she resisted every offer which the head- 
 strong violence of my passion urged me to press upon her." 
 
 '^ And, in brief," said Bridgenorth, " I am not to believe that 
 you have met in this remote place of rendezvous by Alice's special 
 appointment?" 
 
 Peveril knew not what to reply, and Bridgenorlh again signed 
 with his hand to his daughter to withdraw. 
 
 " I obey you, father," said Alice, who had by this time reco- 
 vered from the extremity of her surprise, — "I obey you-, but 
 Heaven is my witness that you do me more than injustice in sus- 
 pecting me capable of betraying your secrets, even had it been 
 necessary to save my own life or that of Julian. That you are 
 walking in a dangerous path I well know ; but you do it with your 
 eyes open, and are actuated by motives of which you can estimate 
 the worth and value. My sole wish was, that this young man should 
 not enter blindfold on the same perils ; and I had a right to warn 
 him, since the feelings by which he is hoodwinked had a direct 
 reference to me." 
 
 " Tis well, minion," said Bridgenorlh, '' you have spoken your 
 say. Retire, and let me complete the conference which you have 
 so considerately commenced." 
 
 "• I go, sir," said Alice.—" Julian, to you my last words arc, 
 and I would speak them with my last breath— Farewell, and 
 caution ! " 
 
 She turned from them, disappeared among the underwood, and 
 was seen no more. 
 
 " A true specimen of womankind," said her father, looking after 
 her, " who would give the cause of nations up, rather than endan- 
 ger a hair of her lover's head. — You, master Peveril, doubtless, 
 hold her opinion, that the best love is a safe love?" 
 
 " Were danger alone in my way," said Peveril, much surprised 
 at the softened tone in which Bridgenorlh made this observation, 
 
204 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " There are few things which I would not face lo— to— -deserve 
 your good opinion." 
 
 '* Or rather lo win my daughter's hand," said Bridgenorth. 
 '' Well, young man, one thing has pleased me in your conduct, 
 though of much I have my reasons to complain — one thing has 
 pleased me. You have surmounted that bounding wall of aristo- 
 cratical pride, in which your father, and I suppose, his fathers, 
 remained imprisoned, as in the precincts of a feudal fortress — you 
 have leaped over this barrier, and shown yourself not unwilling to 
 ally yourself with a family, whom your father spurned as low-born 
 and ignoble." 
 
 However favourable this speech sounded towards success in his 
 suit, it so broadly stated the consequences of that success, so far as 
 his parents w^ere concerned, that Julian felt it in the last degree 
 difficult lo reply. At length, perceiving that Major Bridgenorth 
 seemed resolved quietly lo await his answer, he mustered up cou- 
 rage to say, " The feelings which I entertain towards your daugh- 
 ter. Master Bridgenorth, are of a nature to supersede many other 
 considerations, to which, in any other case, I should feel it my 
 duty to give the most reverential attention. I will not disguise from 
 you, that my father's prejudices against such a match would be 
 very strong \ but I devoutly believe Ihey would disappear when he 
 came to know the merit of Alice Bridgenorth, and lo be sensible 
 that she only could make his son happy." 
 
 " In the meanwhile, you are desirous to complete the union 
 which you propose without the knowledge of your parents, and 
 lake the chance of their being hereafter reconciled to it? So I 
 understand, from the proposal which you made but lately to my 
 daughter.'' 
 
 The turns of human nature, and of human passion, are so irre- 
 gular and uncertain, that although Julian had but a few minutes 
 before urged to Alice a private marriage, and an elopement to the 
 continent, as measures upon which the whole happiness of his life 
 depended, the proposal seemed not to him half so delightful when 
 slated by the calm, cold, dictatorial accents of her father. It 
 sounded no longer like the impulses of ardent passion, throwing 
 all other considerations aside, but as a distinct surrender of the 
 dignity of his house lo one who seemed to consider their relative 
 situation as the triumph of Bridgenorth overPeveril. He was mute 
 for a moment, in the vain attempt to shape his answer so as at 
 once to intimate acquiescence in what Bridgenorth slated, and a 
 vindication of his own regard for his parents and for Ihe honour 
 of his house. 
 
 This delay gave rise lo suspicion, and Bridgenorlh's eye gleamed, 
 and his lip quivered, while he gave vent lo it. " Hark ye, young 
 man — deal openly with me in this matter, if you would not have 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 205 
 
 ine think you the execrable villain who would have seduced an un- 
 happy girl under promises which he never designed to fulfil. Let 
 ine but suspect this, and you shall see, on the spot, how far your 
 pride and your pedigree will preserve you against the just ven- 
 geance of a father." 
 
 *' You do nie wrong," said Peveril — '' you do me infinite wrong, 
 Major Bridgenorth. I am incapable of the infamy which you allude 
 to. The proposal I made to your daughter was as sincere as ever 
 was ofl'ered by man to woman. I only hesitated, because you think 
 il necessary to examine me so very closely ; and to possess yourself 
 of all my purposes and sentiments, in their fullest extent, without 
 explaining to me the tendency of your own." 
 
 ''Your proposal, then, shapes itself thus," said Bridgenorth : — 
 *' You are willing to lead my only child into exile from her native 
 country, to give her a claim to kindness and protection from your 
 family, which you know will be disregarded, on condition I consent 
 to bestow her hand on you, with a fortune sufficient to have matched 
 that of your ancestors, when they had most reason to boast of their 
 wealth. This, young man, seems no equal bargain. And yet," he 
 continued, after a momentary pause, " so little do I value the goods 
 of this world, that it might not be utterly beyond thy power to re- 
 concile me to the match which you have proposed to me, however 
 unequal it may appear." 
 
 " Show me but the means which can propitiate your favour, 
 Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril, — "for I will not doubt that they 
 will be consistent with my honour and duly, — and you shall soon 
 see how eagerly I will obey your directions, or submit to your 
 conditions." 
 
 ''They are summed in few words," answered Bridgenorth. " Be 
 an honest man, and the friend of your country." 
 
 " No one has ever doubted," replied Peveril, " Ihat I am both." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied the Major : " No one has as yet seen you 
 show yourself either. Interrupt me not — I question not your will 
 to be both; but you have hitherto neither had the light nor the 
 opportunity necessary for the display of your principles, or the 
 service of your country. You have lived when an apathy of mind, 
 succeeding to the agitations of the Civil War, had made men indif- 
 ferent to state affairs, and more willing to cultivate their own ease, 
 than to stand in the gap when the Lord was pleading with Israel. 
 But we are Englishmen ; and with us such unnatural lethargy can- 
 not continue long. Already, many of those who most desired the 
 return of Charles Stewart, regard him as a King whom Heaven, im- 
 portuned by our entreaties, gave to us in His anger. His unlimited 
 license — an example so readily followed by the young and the gay 
 around him — has disgusted the minds of all sober and thinking 
 men. I had not now held conference with you in this intimate 
 
206 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 fashion, were I not aware that you, Master Julian, were free from 
 such stain of the times. Heaven, that rendered the King's course of 
 license fruilful, has denied issue to his bed of wedlock ; and in the 
 gloomy and stern character of hisbigoled successor, we already see 
 what sort of monarch shall succeed to the crown of England. This 
 is a critical period, at which it necessarily becomes the duty of all 
 men to step forward, each in his degree, and aid in rescuing the 
 country which gave usbirlh." Peveril remembered the warning 
 which he had received from Alice, and bent his eyes on the ground, 
 without returning any reply. " How is it, young man," conlinued 
 Bridgenorth, after a pause — " so young as thou art, and bound by 
 no ties of kindred profligacy with the enemies of your country, you 
 can be already hardened to the claims she may form on you at this 
 crisis?" 
 
 " It were easy to answer you generally, Major Bridgenorth," 
 replied Peveril — " It were easy to say that my country cannot make 
 a claim on me which I will not promptly answer at the risk of 
 lands and life. But in dealing thus generally, we should but de- 
 ceive each olher. What is the nature of this call? By whom is it 
 to be sounded? And what are to be the resulls? for I think you have 
 already seen enough of the evils of civil war, to be wary of again 
 awakening ils terrors in a peaceful and happy country." 
 
 ''They that are drenched with poisonous narcotics," said the 
 Major, " must be awakened by their physicians, though it were 
 with the sound of the trumpet. Better that men should die bravely 
 with their arms in their hands, like free born Englishmen, than 
 that they should slide into the bloodless but dishonoured grave 
 which slavery opens for ils vassals — But it is not of war that I was 
 about to speak," he added, assuming a milder lone. *' The evils, 
 of which England now complains, are such as can be remedied by 
 the wholesome administrafion of her own laws, even in Ihe stale 
 in which they are still suffered to exist. Have these laws not a right 
 lo the support of every individual who lives under them? Have 
 they not a right lo yours?" 
 
 As he seemed to pause for an answer, Peveril replied, ''• I have 
 to learn. Major Bridgenorth, how the laws of England have become 
 so far weakened as to require such support as mine. When that 
 is made plain lo me, no man will more willingly discharge the duly 
 of a failhful liegeman lo the law as well as the King. Bui the laws 
 of England are under the guardianship of upright and learned 
 judges, and of a gracious monarch." 
 
 '' And of a House of Commons," interrupted Bridgenorth, " no 
 longer doling upon restored monarchy, but awakened, as with a 
 peal of thunder, to Ihe perilous slate of our religion, and of our 
 freedom. I appeal to your own conscience, Julian Peveril, whe- 
 ther this awakening hath not been in time, since you yourself 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 207 
 
 know, and none belter than you, Ihe secret but rapid strides which 
 Rome has made to erect her Dagon of idolatry within our Pro- 
 testant land." 
 
 Here Julian seeing, or thinking he saw, the drift of Bridgenorth's 
 suspicions, hastened to exculpate himself from Ihe thought of fa- 
 vouring the Roman Catholic religion. " It is true,' he said, " I 
 have been educated in a family where that faith is professed by 
 one honoured individual, and that I have since travelled in Popish 
 countries 5 but even for these very reasons I have seen Popery too 
 closely to be friendly to its tenets. The bigotry of the laymen — 
 the persevering arts of the priesthood — the perpetual intrigue for 
 the extension of the forms without the spirit of religion — the usur- 
 pation of thai church over the consciences of men — and her impious 
 pretensions to infallibility, are as inconsistent to my mind as they 
 can seem to yours, with common sense, rational liberty, freedom of 
 conscience, and pure religion." 
 
 "• Spoken like the son of your excellent mother I " said Bridge- 
 north, grasping his hand-, "for whose sake I have consented to 
 endure so much from your house unrequited, even when the means 
 of requital were in my own hand." 
 
 " It was indeed from the instructions of that excellent parent," 
 said Peveril, '' that I was enabled, in my early youth, to resist and 
 repel the insidious attacks made upon my religious faith by the 
 Catholic priest into whose company I was necessarily thrown. 
 Like her, I trust to live and die in the faith of the reformed Church 
 of England." 
 
 "The Church of England!" said Bridgenorth, dropping his 
 young friend's hand, but presently resuming it — "Alas I that 
 Church, as now constituted, usurps scarcely less than Rome herself 
 upon men's consciences and liberties ; yet, out of the weakness of 
 this half-reformed Church, may God be please to work out dehver- 
 ance to England, and praise to Himself. I must not forget, that 
 one whose services have been in the cause incalculable, wears the 
 garb of an English priest, and hath had Episcopal ordination. It 
 is not for us to challenge the instrument^ so that our escape is 
 achieved from the net of the fowler. Enough, thai I find thee not 
 as yetenhghtened with the purer doctrine, but prepared to profit by 
 it when the spark shall reach thee. Enough, in especial, that I 
 find thee willing to uplift the testimony, to cry aloud and spare 
 not, against the errors and arts of the Church of Rome. But re- 
 member what thou hast now said, thou wilt soon be called upon to 
 justify, in a manner the most solemn — the most awful." 
 
 " What I have said," replied Julian Peveril, " being the un- 
 biassed sentiments of my heart, shall, upon no proper occasion, 
 want the support of my open avowal; and I think it strange you 
 should doubt me so far." 
 
208 PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " I doubt Ihee not, my young friend," said Bridgeuorlh ; '' and 
 I trust to see thy name rank high amongst those by whom the prey 
 shall be rent from the mighty. At present, thy prejudices occupy 
 thy mind like the strong keeper of the house mentioned in Scrip- 
 ture. But there shall come a stronger than he, and make forcible 
 entry, displaying on the batllemenis that sign of faith in which 
 alone there is found salvation.— Watch, hope, and pray, that the 
 hour may come I " 
 
 There was a pause in the conversation, which was first broken 
 by Peveril. "You have spoken to me in riddles, Major Bridge- 
 north \ and I have asked you for no explanation. Listen to a cau- 
 tion on my part, given with the most sincere good-will. Take a 
 hint from me, and believe il, though it is darkly expressed. You 
 are here — at least are believed to be here— on an errand danger- 
 ous to the Lord of the Island. That danger will be retorted on your- 
 self, if you make Man long your place of residence. Be warned, 
 and depart in lime." 
 
 " And leave my daughter to (he guardianship of Julian Peveril? 
 Runs not your counsel so, young man?" answered Bridgcnorth. 
 " Trust my safety, Julian, lo my own prudence. I have been ac- 
 customed to guide myself through worse dangers than now environ 
 me. But I thank you for your caution, which I am willing to be- 
 lieve was at least partly disinterested." 
 
 " We do not, then, part in anger?" said Peveril. 
 
 " Not in anger, my son," said Bridgenorth, '' but in love and 
 strong affection. For my daughter, thou must forbear every 
 thought of seeing her, save through me. I accept not thy suit, 
 neither do I reject it-, only this I intimate to you, that he who 
 would be my son, must first show himself the (rue and loving child 
 of his oppressed and deluded country. Farewell I Do not answer 
 me now ; thou art yet in the gall of bilterness, and it may be that 
 strife (which I desire not) should fall between us. Thou shall hear 
 of me sooner than thou thinkest for." 
 
 He shook Peveril heartily by the hand, and again bid him fare- 
 well, leaving him under the confused and mingled impression of 
 pleasure, doubt, and wonder. Not a lillle surprised to find himself 
 so far in the good graces of Alice's father, that his suit was even 
 favoured with a sort of negative encouragement, he could not help 
 suspecting, as well from the language of the daughter as of the 
 fatlier, that Bridgenorth was desirous, as tlie price of his favour, 
 that he should adopt some line of conduct inconsistent with the 
 principles in which he had been educated. 
 
 " You need not fear, Alice," he said in his heart \ " not even your 
 hand would I purchase by aught which resembled unworthy or 
 truckling compliance with tenets which my heart disowns^ and 
 well I know, were 1 mean enough to do so, even the authority 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 209 
 
 of Ihy father were insufficient to compel thee lo the ratification of 
 so mean a bargain. But let me hopebetler things. Bridgenorlh, 
 though strong-minded and sagacious, is haunted by the fears of Po- 
 pery, which are the bugbears of his sect. My residence in liie fa- 
 mily of the Countess of Derby is more than enough lo inspire him 
 with suspicions of my faith, from which, thank Heaven, I can vin- 
 dicate myself with truth and a good conscience." 
 
 So thinking, he again adjusted the girths of his palfrey, replaced 
 the bit which he had slipped out of its mouth, that it might feed 
 at liberty, and mounting, pursued his way back to the Castle of 
 Holm Peel, where he could not help fearing that something extra- 
 ordinary might have happened in his absence. 
 
 But the old pile soon rose before him, serene, and sternly still, 
 amid the sleeping ocean. The banner, which indicated that the 
 Lord of Man held residence within its ruinous precincts, hung 
 motionless by the ensign-staff. The sentinels walked to and fro 
 on their posts, and hummed or whistled their Manx airs. Leaving 
 his faithful companion. Fairy, in the village as before, Julian en- 
 tered the Caslle, and found all within in the same state of quietness 
 and good order which external appearances had announced. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 Now rede me, rede me, brother dear, 
 Throughout Merry England, 
 
 Where will I find a messenger, 
 Betwixt us two to send. 
 
 Ballad of King Eslmere. 
 
 Julian's first rencounter, after re-entering the Castle, was with 
 its young Lord, who received him with his usual kindness and light-' 
 ness of humour. 
 
 '' Thrice welcome. Sir Knight of Dames," said the Earl; " here 
 you rove gallantly, and at free will, through our dominions, ful- 
 filling of appointments, and achieving amorous adventures ; while 
 we are condemned to sit in our royal halls, as dull and as immov- 
 able as if our Majesty was carved on the stern of some Manx smug- 
 gling dogger, and christened the King Arthur of Ramsey." 
 
 ^^ Nay, in that case you would take the sea," said Julian, " and 
 so enjoy travel and adventure enough." 
 
 " Oh, but suppose me wind-bound, or detained in harbour by 
 a revenue pink, or ashore, if you like it, and lying high and dry 
 upon the sand. Imagine the royal image in the dullest of all predi- 
 caments, and you have not equalled mine." 
 
 ^' I am happy lo hear, at least, that you have had no disagree- 
 
 14 
 
♦ilO PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 able employments," said Julian ; "the morning's alarm has blown, 
 over, I suppose? " 
 
 " In faith it has, Julian ^ and our close enquiries cannot find any 
 cause for the apprehended insurrection. That Bridgenorlh is in the 
 island seems certain j but private affairs of consequence are alleged 
 as the cause of his visit; and I am not desirous to have him ar- 
 rested unless I could prove some mal-praclices against him and- his 
 companions. In fact, it would seem we had taken the alarm too 
 soon. My mother speaks of consulting you on the subject, Julian *, 
 and I will not anticipate her solemn comrrsunicalion. It will be 
 partly apologetical, I suppose ; for we begin to think our retreat 
 rather unroyal, and that, like the wicked, we have fled when no 
 man pursued. This idea afflicts my mother, who as a Queen-Dow- 
 ager, a Queen-Regent, a heroine, and a woman in general, would 
 be extremely mortified to think that her precipitate retreat hither 
 had exposed her to the ridicule of the islanders ; and she is discon- 
 certed out of humour accordingly. In the mean while, my sole 
 amusement has been the grimaces and fantastic gestures of that ape 
 Fenella, who is more out of humour, and more absurd, in conse- 
 quence, than you ever saw her. Morris says, it is because you 
 pushed her down stairs, Julian — how is that?" 
 
 "Nay, Morris has misreported me," answered Julian-, " I did 
 but lift her up stairs to be rid of her importunity ; for she chose, in 
 her way, to contest my going abroad in such an obstinate manner, 
 that I had no other mode of getting rid of her." 
 
 ''She must have supposed your departure, at a moment so cri- 
 tical, was dangerous to the slate of our garrison," answered the 
 Earl-, " it shows how dearly she esteems my mother's safely, how 
 highly she rates your prowess. — But, thank Heaven , there sounds the 
 dinner-bell. I would the philosophers, who find a sin and waste 
 of time in good cheer, could devise us any pastime half so agreeable." 
 
 The meal which the young Earl had thus longed for, as a means 
 of consuming a portion of the time which hung heavy on his hands, 
 •was soon over-, as soon, at least, as the habitual and stately forma- 
 lity of the Countess's household permitted. She herself, accompa- 
 nied by her gentlewoman and attendants, retired early after the 
 tables were drawn ; and the young gentlemen were left to Iheir own 
 company. Wine had, for the moment, no charms for either ; for 
 the Earl was out of spirits from ennui, and impatience of his mono- 
 tonous and solitary course of life ; and the events of the day had 
 given Peveril too much matter for reflection, to permit his starting 
 amusing or interesting topics of conversation. After having passed 
 the flask in silence betwixt them once or twice, they withdrew each 
 into a separate embrasure of the windows of the dining apartment, 
 which, such was the extreme thickness of the wall, were deep 
 enough to afford a solitary recess, separated, as it were, from the 
 
PEVEUIL OF THE PEAK. 211 
 
 chamber itself. In one of these sat the Earl of Derby, busied in 
 looking over some of the new publications which had been for- 
 warded from London •, and at intervals confessing how little power 
 or interest these had for him, by yawning fearfully as he looked 
 out on the solitary expanse of waters, which, save for the flight of a 
 flock of sea-gulls, or of a solitary cormorant, offered so little of va- 
 riety to engage his attention. 
 
 Peveril, on his part, held a pamphlet also in his hand, without 
 giving, or affecting to give it, even his occasional attention. His 
 whole soul turned upon the interview which he had had that day 
 with AHce Bridgenorth, and with her father ; while he in vain en- 
 deavoured to form any hypothesis which could explain to him why 
 the daughter, to whom he had no reason to think himself indiffe- 
 rent, should have been so suddenly desirous of their eternal sepa- 
 ration, while her father, whose opposition he so much dreaded, 
 seemed to be at least tolerant of his addresses. He could only sup- 
 pose, in explanation, that Major Bridgenorth had some plan in 
 prospect, which it was in his own power to further or to impede ; 
 while from the demeanour, and indeed the language, of Alice, he 
 had but loo much reason to apprehend that her father's favour could 
 only be conciliated by something, on his own part, approaching to 
 dereliction of principle. But by no conjecture which he could 
 form, could he make the least guess concerning the nature of that 
 compliance, of which Bridgenorth seemed desirous. He could not 
 imagine, notwithstanding Alice had spoken of treachery, ttiat her 
 father would dare to propose to him uniting in any plan by which 
 the safety of the Countess, or the security of her little Kingdom of 
 Man, was to be endangered. This carried such indelible disgrace 
 in the front, that he could not suppose the scheme proposed to him 
 by any who was not prepared to defend with his sword, upon the 
 spot, so flagrant an insult offered to his honour. And such a pro- 
 ceeding was totally inconsistent with the conduct of Major Bridge- 
 north in every other respect, besides his being too calm and cold- 
 blooded to perihit of his putting a mortal affront upon the son of his. 
 old neighbour, to whose mother he confessed so much of obligation. 
 
 While Peveril in vain endeavoured to extract something hke a 
 probable theory out of the hints thrown out by the father and by 
 the daughter — not without the additional and lover-like labour of 
 endeavouring to reconcile his passion to his honour and conscience 
 — he felt something gently pull him by the cloak. He unclasped 
 his arms, which, in meditation, had been folded on his bosom ; and 
 withdrawing his eyes from the vacant prospect of sea-coast and sea 
 which they perused, without much consciousness upon what Ihey 
 resled, he beheld beside him the little dumb maiden, the elfin 
 Fenella. She was seated on a low cushion or stool, with which 
 5he had nestled close to Peverirs side, and had remained there for 
 
212 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 a short space of lime, expecting, no doubt, he would become con- 
 scious of her presence 5 until, tired of remaining unnoticed, she at 
 length solicited his attention in the manner which we have de- 
 scribed. Startled out of his reverie by this intimation of her pre- 
 sence, he looked down, and could not, without interest, behold this 
 singular and helpless being. 
 
 Her hair was unloosed, and streamed over her shoulders in such 
 length, that much of it lay upon the ground, and in such quantity, 
 that it formed a dark veil, or shadow, not only around her face, but 
 over her whole slender and minute form. From the profusion of 
 her tresses looked forth her small and dark, but well-formed features, 
 together with the large and brilliant black eyes-, and her whole 
 countenance was composed into the imploring look of one who is 
 doubtful of the reception she is about to meet with from a valued 
 friend, while she confesses a fault, pleads an apology, or solicits a 
 reconciliation. In short, the whole face was so much alive with 
 expression, that Julian, though h€r aspect was so familiar to him, 
 could hardly persuade himself but that her countenance was entirely 
 new. The wild, fantastic, elvish vivacity of the features, seemed 
 totally vanished, and had given place to a sorrowful, lender, and 
 pathetic cast of countenance, aided by the expression of the large 
 dark eyes, which, as they were turned up towards Julian, glis- 
 tened with moisture, that, nevertheless, did not overflow the eye-lids. 
 
 Conceiving that her unwonted manner arose from a recollection 
 of the dispute which had laken place betwixt them in the morn- 
 ing, Peveril was anxious to reslore the little maiden's gaiety, by 
 making her sensible that there dwelt on his mind no unpleasing 
 recollection of their quarrel. He smiled kindly, and shook her 
 hand in one of his ; while, with the familiarity of one who had 
 known her from childhood, he stroked down her long dark tresses 
 with the other. She stooped her head, as if ashamed, and, at the 
 same time, gratified with his caresses — and he was thus induced 
 to continue them, until, under the veil of her rich and abundant 
 locks, he suddenly felt his other hand, which she still held fast in 
 hers, slightly touched with her lips, and, at the same lime, mois- 
 tened with a tear. 
 
 At once, and for the first time in his life, the danger of being 
 misinterpreted in his familiarity with a creature to whom the usual 
 modes of explanation were a blank, occurred to Julian's mind 5 and, 
 hastily withdrawing his hand, and changing his posture, he asked 
 of her, by a sign which custom had rendered familiar, whether she 
 brought any message to him from the Countess. In an instant 
 Fenella's whole deportment was changed. She started up, and ar- 
 ranged herself in her seat with the rapidity of lightning •, and, at the 
 same moment, with one turn of her hand, braided her length of 
 Jocks into a natural head-dress of the most beautiful kind. There 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 213 
 
 >vas, indeed, when she looked up, a blush slill visible on her dark 
 features; but Iheir melancholy and languid expression had given 
 place lo that of wild and restless vivacity, which was most common 
 to tliem. Her eyes gleamed with more than their wonted fire^ 
 and her glances were more piercingly wild and unsettled than 
 usual. To Julian's enquiry, she answered, by laying her hand 
 on her heart — a motion by which she always indicated the 
 Countess— and rising, and taking the direction of her apartment, 
 she made a sign to Julian to follow her. 
 
 The distance was not great betwixt the dining apartment and 
 that to which Peveril now followed his mute guide ; yet, in going 
 thither, he had time enough lo suiter cruelly from the sudden sus- 
 picion, that this unhappy girl had misinterpreted the uniform kind- 
 ness with which he had treated her, and hence come to regard him 
 with feelings more tender than those which belong to friendship. 
 The misery which such a passion was likely to occasion to a crea- 
 ture in her helpless situation, and actuated by such lively feelings, 
 was great enough to make him refuse credit to the suspicion which 
 pressed itself upon his mind ; while, at the same time, he formed 
 the internal resolution so to conduct himself towards Fenella, as to 
 check such misplaced sentiments, if indeed she unhappily enter- 
 tained them towards him. 
 
 When they reached the Countess's apartment, they found her 
 with writing implements^ and many sealed letters, before her. She 
 received Julian with her usual kindness ; and having caused him to 
 be seated, beckoned to the mute to resume her needle. In an instant 
 Fenella was seated at an embroidering-frame ; where, but for the 
 movement of her dexterous fingers, she might have seemed a statue, 
 so little did she move from her work either head or eye. As hen 
 infirmity rendered her presence no bar to the most confidential con- 
 versation, the Countess proceeded to address Peveril as if they had 
 been literally alone together. 
 
 ' • Julian,' she said, '' I am not now about to complain to you of 
 the sentiments and conduct of Derby. He is your friend — he is my 
 son. He has kindness of heart and vivacity of talent ; and yet" — 
 
 " Dearest lady," said Peveril, '^ why will you distress yourself 
 with fixing your eye on deficiencies which arise rather from a change 
 of times and manners, than any degeneracy of my noble friend? 
 Let him be once engaged in his duty, whether in peace or war, and 
 let me pay the penalty if he acquits not himself becoming his high 
 station." 
 
 " Ay," replied the Countess ; " but when will the call of duty 
 prove superior to that of the most idle or trivial indulgence which 
 can serve to drive over the lazy hour? His father was of another 
 mould ; and how often was it my lot to entreat that he would spare, 
 from the rigid discharge of those duties which his high station im- 
 
214 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 posed, the relaxation absolutely necessary to recruit his health and 
 his spirits ! " 
 
 " Still, my dearest lady," said Peveril, '' you must allow, that 
 the duties to which the times summoned your late honoured lord, 
 were of a more stirring, as well as a more peremptory cast, than 
 those which await your son." 
 
 " I know not that," said the Countess. "The wheel appears to be 
 again revolving ; and the present period is not unlikely to bring 
 back such scenes as my younger years witnessed. — Well, be it so ; 
 they will not find Charlotte de la Tremouille broken in spirit, though 
 depressed by years. It was even on this subject I would speak with 
 you, my young friend. Since our first early acquaintance — when I 
 saw your gallant behaviour as I issued forth to your childish eye, 
 like an apparition, from my place of concealment in your father's ■ 
 castle — it has pleased me to think you a true son of Stanley and 
 Peveril. I trust your nurture in this family has been ever suited to 
 the esteem in which I hold you. — Nay, I desire no thanks. I have 
 to require of you, in return, a piece of service, not perhaps entirely 
 safe to yourself, but which, as times are circumstanced, no person 
 is so well able to render to my house." 
 
 "■ You have been ever my good and noble lady," answered Pe- 
 veril, " as well as my kind, and I may say maternal, protectress. 
 You have a right to command the blood of Stanley in the veins of 
 every one— You have a thousand rights to command it in mine^" 
 
 " My advices from England," said the Countess, " resemble more 
 the dreams of a sick man, than the regular information which I 
 might have expected from such correspondents as mine ^ — their ex- 
 pressions are Hke those of men who walk in their sleep, and speak 
 by snatches of what passes in their dreams. It is said, a plot, real 
 or fictitious, has been delected amongst the Catholics, which has 
 spread far wider and more uncontrollable terror, than that of the 
 fifth of November. Its outlines seem utterly incredible, and are 
 only supported by the evidence of wretches, the meanest and most 
 worthless in the creation 5 yet it is received by the credulous people 
 of England with the most undoubling belief." 
 
 " This is a singular delusion, to rise without some real ground," 
 answered Julian. 
 
 '' I am no bigot, cousin, though a Catholic," rephed the Countess. 
 ** I have long feared that the well-meant zeal of our priests for in- 
 creasing converts, would draw on them the suspicion of the English 
 nation. These efforts have been renewed with double energy since 
 the Duke of York conformed to the Catholic faith ; and the same 
 event has doubled the hate and jealousy of the Protestants, So far, 
 I fear, there may be just cause for suspicion, that the Duke is a belter 
 
 ' The reader cannot have forgoUen thai the Earl of Derby was head of the great bouse 
 of Stanley. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. -215 
 
 Calholic than an Englishman, and that bigotry has involved him, as 
 avarice, or the needy greed of a prodigal, has engaged his brother, 
 in relations with France, whereof England may have too much, 
 reason to complain. But the gross, thick, and palpable fabrications 
 of conspiracy and murder, blood and fire — the imaginary armies — 
 the intended massacres — form a collection of falsehoods, that one 
 would have thought indigestible, even by the coarse appetite of the 
 vulgar for the marvellous and horrible 5 but which are, nevertheless, 
 received as truth by both Houses of Parliament, and questioned by 
 no one who is desirous to escape the odious appellation of friend to 
 the»bloody Papists, and favourer of their infernal schemes of cruelty." 
 
 '* But what say those who are most likely to be affected by these 
 wild reports?" said Julian. "What say the English Catholics them- 
 selves? — a numerous and wealthy body, comprising so many noble 
 names ? " 
 
 "■ Their hearts are dead within them," said the Countess. " They 
 are like sheep penned up in the shambles, that the butcher may 
 lake his choice among them. In the obscure and brief communi- 
 cations which I have had by a secure hand, they do but anticipate 
 their own utter ruin, and ours — so general is the depression, so 
 universal the despair." 
 
 " But the King," said Peveril, — " the King and the Protestant 
 royalists— what say they to this growing tempest?" 
 
 " Charles," replied the Countess, " with his usual selfish pru- 
 dence, truckles to the storm ; and will let cord and axe do their work 
 on the most innocent men in his dominions, rather than lose an 
 hour of pleasure in attempting their rescue. And, for the royalists, 
 either they have caught the general deUrium which has seized on 
 Protestants in general, or they stand aloof and neutral, afraid to 
 show any interest in the unhappy Catholics, lest they be judged al- 
 together such as themselves, and abettors of the fearful conspiracy 
 in which they are alleged to be engaged. In fact, I cannot blame 
 them. It is hard to expect that mere compassion for a persecuted 
 sect — or, what is yet more rare, an abstract love of justice — should 
 be powerful enough to engage men to expose themselves to the 
 awakened fury of a whole people •, for, in the present state of general 
 agitation, whoever disbelieves the least tittle of the enormous im- 
 probabilities which have been accumulated by these wretched in- 
 formers, is instantly hunted down, as one who would smother the 
 discovery of the Plot. It is indeed an awful tempest ; and, remote 
 as we lie from its sphere, we must expect soon to feel its effects." 
 
 " Lord Derby already told me something of this," said Julian ; 
 " and that there were agents ir this island whose object was to excite 
 insurrection." 
 
 " Yes," answered the Countess, and her eye flashed fire as she 
 spoke 5 '' and had my advice been listened to, ihcy had been ap- 
 
216 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 prehended in Ihe very fact^ and so dealt with, as to be a warning 
 to all others how they sought this independent principality on such 
 an errand. But my son, who is generally so culpably negligent of 
 his own affairs, was pleased to assume the management of them 
 upon this crisis." 
 
 "I am happy to learn, madam," answered Peveril, " that the 
 measures of precaution which my kinsman has adopted, have had 
 the complete effect of disconcerting the conspiracy." 
 
 " For the present, Julian ^ but they should have been such as 
 would have made the boldest tremble, to think of such infringement 
 of our rights in future. But Derby's present plan is fraught with 
 greater danger ; and yet there is something in it of gallantry, which 
 has my sympathy." 
 
 "What is it, madam?" enquired Julian, anxiously^ "and in 
 what can I aid it, or avert its dangers?" 
 
 " He purposes," said the Countess, " instantly to set forth for 
 London. He is, he says, not merely the feudal chief of a small 
 island, but one of the noble Peers of England, who must not remain 
 in the security of an obscure and distant castle, when his name, or 
 that of his mother, is slandered before his Prince and people. He 
 will take his place, he says, in the House of Lords, and publicly 
 demand justice for the insult thrown on his house, by perjured and 
 interested witnesses." 
 
 " It is a generous resolution, and worthy of my friend," said Ju- 
 lian Peveril. " I will go with him and share his fate, be it what it 
 may." 
 
 *' Alas, foolish boy I" answered the Countess, " as well may you 
 ask a hungry lion to feel compassion, as a prejudiced and furious 
 people to do justice. They are like the madman at the height of 
 frenzy, who murders without compunction his best and dearest 
 friend-, and only wonders and wails over his own cruelty, when he 
 is recovered from his delirium." 
 
 " Pardon me, dearest lady," said Julian, " this cannot bo. The 
 noble and generous people of England cannot be thus strangely 
 misled. Whatever prepossessions may be current among the mere 
 vulgar, the Houses of Legislature cannot be deeply infected by them 
 — they will remember their own dignity." 
 
 "Alas! cousin," answered the Countess, " when did English- 
 men, even of the highest degree, remember any thing, when hur- 
 ried away by the violence of party feeling? Even those who have 
 too much sense to beheve in the incredible fictions which gull the 
 multitude, will beware how they expose them, if their own politi- 
 cal party can gain a momentary advantage by their being accre- 
 dited. It is amongst such, too, that your kinsman has found friends 
 and associates. Neglecting the old friends of his house, as too grave 
 and formal companions for the humour of the times, his inter- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 217 
 
 course has been with the versatile Shaftesbury — the mercurial 
 Buckingham — men who would not hesitate to sacrifice to the po- 
 pular Moloch of the day, whatsoever, or whomsoever — whose ruin 
 could propitiate the deity. —Forgive a mother's tears, kinsman; 
 but I see Ihe scafTold at Bolton again erected. If Derby goes to 
 London while these bloodhounds are in full cry, obnoxious as he 
 is, and I have made him by my religious faith, and my conduct in 
 this island, he dies his father's death. And yet upon what other 
 course to resolve!" 
 
 " Let me go to London, madam," said Peveril, much moved by 
 the distress of his patroness; "your ladyship was wont to rely 
 something on my judgment. I will act for the best — will commu- 
 nicate with those whom you point out to me, and only with them ,• 
 and I trust soon to send you information that this delusion, how- 
 ever strong it may now be, is in the course of passing away ; at the 
 worst, I can apprise you of the danger, should it menace the Earl 
 or yourself; and may be able also to point out the means by which 
 it may be eluded." 
 
 The Countess listened with a countenance in which the anxiety 
 of maternal afTeclion, which prompted her to embrace Peveril's 
 generous offer, struggled with her native disinterested and gene- 
 rous disposition. " Think what you ask of me, Julian," she re- 
 plied, with a sigl!. "Would you have me expose the life of my 
 friend's son to those perils to which I refuse my own? — No, never!" 
 
 " Nay, but, madam," replied Julian, " I do not run the same 
 risk— my person is not known in London — my situation, though 
 not obscure in my own country, is too little known to be noticed 
 in that huge assemblage of all that is noble and wealthy. No whis- 
 per, I presume, however indirect, has connected my name with 
 the alleged conspiracy. I am a Protestant, above all; and can be 
 accused of no intercourse, direct or indirect, with the Church of 
 Rome. My connexions also lie amongst those, who, if they do not, 
 or cannot, befriend me, cannot at least be dangerous to me. In a 
 word, I run no danger where the Earl might incur great peril." 
 
 " Alas !" said the Countess of Derby, " all (his generous reason- 
 ing may be true ; but it could only be listened to by a widowed 
 mother. Selfish as I am, I cannot but reflect that my kinswoman 
 has, in all events, the support of an affectionale husband— such is 
 the interested reasoning to which we are not ashamed to subject our 
 belter feelings!" 
 
 " Do not call it so, madam," answered Peveril; " Ihink of me 
 but as the younger brother of my kinsman. You have ever done by 
 me the dulies of a mother; and have a right to my filial service, 
 were it at a risk ten times greater than a journey to London, to 
 enquire into the temper of the times. I will instantly go and an- 
 nounce my departure to the Earl." 
 
218 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 *'Stay, Julian," said the Countess; 'Mf you must make this 
 journey in our behalf,— and, alas ! I have not generosity enough 
 to refuse your noble proffer,— you must go alone, and without com- 
 munication with Derby. I know him well ; his lightness of mind 
 is free from selfish baseness ; and for the world, would he not suffer 
 you to leave Man without his company. And if he went with you, 
 your noble and disinterested kindness would be of no avail — you 
 would but share his ruin, as the swimmer who attempts to save a 
 drowning man is involved in his fate, if he permit the sufferer to 
 grapple wiih him." 
 
 " It shall be as you please, madam," said Peveril-, " I am ready 
 to depart upon half an hour's notice." 
 
 " This night, then," said the Countess, after a moment's pause 
 — " this night I will arrange the most secret means of carrying 
 your generous project into effect 5 for I would not excite that pre- 
 judice against you, which will instantly arise, were it known you 
 had so lately left this island, and its Popish lady. You will do well, 
 perhaps, to use a feigned name in London." 
 
 •"' Pardon me, madam," said Julian*, "• I v;ill do nothing that can 
 draw on me unnecessary attention 5 but to bear a feigned name, or 
 affect any disguise beyond living with extreme privacy, would, I 
 think, be unwise as well as unworthy; and what, if challenged, I 
 might find some difficulty in assigning a reason for, consistent with 
 perfect fairness of intentions." 
 
 " I believe you are right," answered the Countess, after a mo- 
 ment's consideration ; and then added, " You propose, doubtless, 
 to pass through Derbyshire, and visit Martindale Castle?" 
 
 "I should wish it, madam, certainly," replied Peveril, "did 
 lime permit, and circumstances render it advisable." 
 
 " Of that," said the Countess, "you must yourself judge. Dis- 
 patch is, doubtless, desirable ; on the other hand, arriving from 
 your own family seat, you will be less an object of doubt and sus- 
 picion, than if you posted up from hence, without even visiting 
 your parents. You must be guided in this,— in all,~-by your own 
 prudence. Go, my dearest son ; for to me you should be dear as 
 a son^ — go, and prepare for your journey. I will gel ready some 
 dispatches, and a supply of money— Nay, do not object. Am I not 
 your mother; and are you not discharging a son's duty? Dispute 
 not my right of defraying your expenses. Nor is this all ; for, as I 
 must trust your zeal and prudence to act in our behalf when oc- 
 casion shall demand, I will furnish you with effectual recommen- 
 dations to our friends and kindred, entreating and enjoining them 
 to render whatever aid you may require, either for your own pro- 
 tection, or the advancement of what you may propose in our fa- 
 vour." 
 
 Peveril made no farther opposition to an arrangement, which in 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 219 
 
 truth Ihe moderate stale of his own finances rendered almost in- 
 dispensable, unless with his father's assistance ; and the Countess 
 put into his hand bills of exchange to the amount of two hundred 
 pounds, upon a merchant in the city. She then dismissed Julian 
 for the space of an hour ^ afler which, she said, she must again 
 require his presence. 
 
 The preparations for his journey were not of a nature to divert 
 the thoughts which speedily pressed on him. He found that half 
 an hour's conversation had once more completely changed his im- 
 mediate prospects and plans for the future. He had offered to the 
 Countess of Derby a service, which her uniform kindness had well 
 deserved at his hand ; but, by her accepting it, he was upon the 
 point of being separated from Alice Bridgenorth, at a time when 
 she was become dearer to him than ever, by her avowal of mutual 
 passion. Her image rose before him, such as he had that day 
 pressed her to his bosom— her voice was in his ear, and seemed to 
 ask whether he could desert her in the crisis which every thing 
 seemed to announce as impending. But Julian Peveril, his youth 
 considered, was strict in judging his duty^ and severely resolved in 
 executing it. He trusted not his imagination to pursue the vision 
 which presented itself ^ but resolutely seizing his pen, wrote to Alice 
 the following letter, explaining his situation, as far as justice to 
 the Countess permitted him to do so : — 
 
 "■ I leave you, dearest Alice," thus ran the letter, — •' I leave you; 
 and though, in doing so, I but obey the command you have laid 
 on me, yet I can claim little merit for my compliance , since, with- 
 out additional and most forcible reasons in aid of your orders, I 
 fear I should have been unable to comply with them. But family 
 affairs of importance compel me to absent myself from this island, 
 for, I fear, more than one week. My thoughts, hopes, and wishes, 
 will be on the moment that shall restore me to the Black Fort, and 
 its lovely valley. Let me hope that yours will sometimes rest on the 
 lonely exile, whom nothing could render such, but the command 
 of honour and duty. Do not fear that I mean to involve you in a 
 private correspondence, and let not your father fear it. I could not 
 love you so much, but for the openness and candour of your na- 
 ture ; and I would not that you concealed from Major Bridgenorth 
 one syllable of what I now avov/. Respecting other matters, he 
 himself cannot desire the welfare of our common country with 
 more zeal than I do. Differences may occur concerning the mode 
 in which that is to be obtained ; but, in the principle, I am con- 
 vinced there can be only one mind between us •, nor can I refuse to 
 listen to his experience and wisdom, even where they may ulti- 
 mately fail to convince me. Farewell — Alice, farewell ! Much might 
 be added to that melancholy word, but nothing that could express 
 the bitterness with which it is written. Yet 1 could transcribe it 
 
220 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 again and again, rather than conclude the last communication which 
 I can have with you for some lime. My sole comfort is, that my 
 slay will scarce be so long as to permit you to forget one who never 
 can forge I you." 
 
 He held the paper in his hand for a minute after he had folded, 
 but before he had sealed it, while he hurriedly debated in his own 
 mind whether he had not expressed himself towards Major Bridge- 
 north in so conciliating a manner as might excite hopes of prose- 
 lylism, which his conscience told him he could not realize with 
 honour. Yet, on the other hand, he had no right, from what Bridge- 
 north had said, to conclude that their principles were diametri- 
 cally irreconcilable ^ for though the son of a high Cavalier, and 
 educated in the family of the Countess of Derby, he was himself, 
 upon principle, an enemy of prerogative, and a friend to the li- 
 berty of the subject. And with such considerations he silenced all 
 internal objections on the point of honour \ although his conscience 
 secretly whispered, that these conciliatory expressions towards 
 the father were chiefly dictated by the fear, thai, during his absence, 
 Major Bridgenorlh might be tempted to change the residence of his 
 daughter, and perhaps to convey her altogether out of his reach. 
 
 Having sealed his letter, JuHan called his servant, and directed 
 him to carry it, under cover of one addressed to Mrs. Debbitch, 
 to a house in the town of Rushin, where packets and messages in- 
 tended for the family at Black Fort were usually deposited •, and 
 for that purpose to take horse immediately. He thus got rid of an 
 attendant, who might have been in some degree a spy on his mo- 
 tions. He then exchanged the dress he usually wore, for one more 
 suited to travelling j and, having put a change or two of linen into 
 a small cloak-bag, selected as arms a strong double-edged sword and 
 an excellent pair of pistols, which last he carefully loaded with 
 double bullets. Thus appointed, and wilh twenty pieces in his 
 purse, and the bills we have mentioned secured in a private pocket- 
 book, he was in readiness to depart as soon as he should receive the 
 Countess's commands. 
 
 The buoyant spirit of youth and hope, which had, for a moment, 
 been chilled by the painful and dubious circumstances in which he 
 was placed, as well as the deprivation which he was about to un- 
 dergo, now revived in full vigour. Fancy, turning from more 
 painful anticipations, suggested to him that he was now enlering 
 upon life at a crisis when resolution and talents were almost certain 
 lo make the fortune of their possessor. How could he make a more 
 honourable entry on the bustling scene, than sent by, and acting 
 in behalf of, one of the noblest houses in England ; and should 
 he perform what his charge might render incumbent with the reso- 
 lution and the prudence necessary to secure success, how many 
 occurrences might lake place to render his mediation necessary 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 221 
 
 to Bridgenorlh ^ and thus enable him, on the most equal and honour- 
 able terms, to establish a claim to his gratitude and lo his daughter's 
 hand. 
 
 Whilst he was dwelling on such pleasing, though imaginary 
 prospects, he could not help exclaiming aloud — " Yes, Alice, I 
 will win thee nobly I " The words had scarce escaped his lips, when 
 he heard at the door of his apartment, which the servant had left 
 ajar, a sound like a deep sigh, which was instantly succeeded by 
 a gentle tap— "Come in,'' replied Julian, somewhat ashamed of 
 his exclarnalion, and not a little afraid that it had been caught up 
 by some eavesdropper — "Come in," he again repeated; but his 
 command was not obeyed ; on the contrary, the knock was repeated 
 somewhat louder. He opened the door, and Fenella stood before 
 him. 
 
 With eyes that seemed red w ith recent tears, and with a look of 
 the deepest dejection, the little mute, first touching her bosom, and 
 beckoning with her finger, made to him the usual sign that the 
 Countess desired lo see him — then turned, as if to usher him lo her 
 apartment. As he followed her through the long gloomy vaulted 
 passages which afforded communication betwixt the various depart- 
 ments of the castle, he could not but observe thai her usual light 
 trip was exchanged for a lardy and mournful step, which she accom-' 
 panied with a low inarticulate moaning (which she was probably 
 the less able to suppress, because she could not judge how far it 
 was audible), and also with wringing of Ihe hands, and other marks 
 of extreme affliction. 
 
 At this momenta thought came across Peveril's mind, which, in 
 spite of his better reason, made him shudder involuntarily. As a 
 Peaksman, and a long resident in the Isle of Man, he was well 
 acquainted with many a superstitious legend, and particularly wilh 
 a belief, which attached to the powerful family of the Stanleys, 
 for their peculiar demon, a Banshie, or female spirit, who was 
 wont to shriek, "foreboding evil times ; " and who was generally 
 seen weeping and bemoaning herself before the death of any 
 person of distinction belonging to ihe family. For an instant, 
 Julian could scarce divest himself of the belief, that Ihe waihng, 
 gibbering form, which glided before him, wilh a lamp in her hand, 
 was the genius of his mother's race come to announce to him his 
 predestined doom. It instantly occurred to him as an analogous 
 reflection, that if the suspicion which had crossed his mind con- 
 cerning Fenella was a just one, her ill-faled attachment to him, 
 like that of the prophetic spirit to his family, could bode nothing 
 but disaster, and lamentation, and woe. 
 
222 PEVEllIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Now, hoist the anchor, mates— and let the sails 
 Give their broad bosom to the buxom wind, 
 Like lass that woes a lover. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 The presence of Ihe Coanless dispelled the superstitious feeling, 
 which, for an instant, had encroached on Julian's imagination, 
 and compelled him to give attention to the matters of ordinary life. 
 ''Here are your credentials," she said, giving him a small packet 
 carefully put up in a sealskin cover-, "you had better not open 
 them till you come to London. You must not be surprised to find 
 that there are one or two addressed to men of my own persuasion. 
 These, for all our sakes, you will observe caution in delivering." 
 
 "I go your messenger, madam,'' said Peveril ; "and whatever 
 you desire me to charge myself with, of that I undertake the care. 
 Yet allow me to doubt whether an intercourse with Catholics will 
 at this moment forward the purposes of my mission." 
 
 "You have caught the general suspicion of this wicked sect 
 already," said the Countess, smiling, "and are the filter to go 
 amongst Englishmen in their present mood. But, my cautious 
 friend, these letters are so addressed, and the persons to whom 
 they are addressed so disguised, that you will run no danger in 
 conversing with them. Without their aid, indeed, you will not 
 be able to obtain the accurate information you go in search of. 
 None can tell so exactly how the wind sets, as the pilot whose 
 vessel is exposed to the storm. Besides, though you Protestants 
 deny our priesthood the harmlessness of the dove, you are ready 
 enough to allow us a full share of the wisdom of the serpent ;— in 
 plain terms, their means of information are extensive, and they 
 are not deficient in the power of applying it. I therefore wish 
 you to have the benefit of their intelligence and advice, if pos- 
 sible." 
 
 " Whatever you impose on me as a part of my duty, madam, 
 rely on its being discharged punctually," answered Peveril. "And 
 now, as there is little use in deferring the execution of a purpose 
 when once fixed, let me know your ladyship's wishes concerning 
 my departure." 
 
 "It must be sudden and secret," said the Countess; " the island 
 is full of spies •, and I would not wish that any of them should have 
 notice that an envoy of mine was about to leave Man for London. 
 Can you be ready logo on board to-morrow?" 
 
 " To-night — this instant if you will," said Julian — " my little 
 preparations are complete." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 223 
 
 "Be ready, then, in your chamber, al two hours after midnight. 
 I will send one to summon you, for our secret must be communi- 
 cated, for (he present, to as few as possible. A foreign sloop is 
 engaged to carry you over ; then make the best of your way to 
 London, by Martindale Castle or otherwise, as you find most ad- 
 visable. When it is necessary to announce your absence, I will say 
 you are gone to see your parents. But stay — your journey will be 
 on horseback, of course, from Whitehaven. You have bills of ex- 
 change, it is true ^ but are you provided with ready money to fur- 
 nish yourself with a good horse?" 
 
 " I am sufficiently rich, madam," answered Julian ; '^and good 
 nags are plenty in Cumberland. There are those among them who 
 know how to come by them good and cheap." 
 
 " Trust not to that," said the Countess. " Here is what will pur- 
 chase for you the best horse on the Borders. — Can you be simple 
 enough to refuse it?" she added, as she pressed on him a heavy 
 purse, which he saw himself obhged to accept. 
 
 "■ A good horse, Julian," continued the Countess, ''and a good 
 sword, next to a good heart and head, are the accomplishments of 
 a cavalier." 
 
 " I kiss your hands, then, madam," said Peveril, " and humbly 
 beg you to believe, that whatever may fail in my present under- 
 taking, my purpose to serve you, my noble kinswoman and bene- 
 factress, can at least never swerve or falter." 
 
 " I know it, my son, I know it; and may God forgive me if my 
 anxiety for your friend has sent you on dangers which should have 
 been his ! Go — go — May saints and angels bless you ! Fenella shall 
 acquaint him that you sup in your own apartment. So indeed will 
 I ; for to-night I should be unable to face my son's looks. Little 
 will he thank me for sending you on his errand ; and there will be 
 many to ask, whether it was like the Lady of Latham to trust her 
 friend's son on the danger which should have been braved by her 
 own. But 1 Julian, I am now a forlorn widow, whom sorrow has 
 made selfish I " 
 
 "Tush, madam," answered Peveril; "it is more unlike the 
 Lady of Latham to anticipate dangers which may not exist at all, 
 and to which, if they do indeed occur, I am less obnoxious than my 
 noble kinsman. Farewell! All blessings attend you, madam. Com- 
 mend me to Derby, and make him my excuses. I shall expect a 
 summons at two hours after midnight." 
 
 They took an afTeclionate leave of each other; the more affec- 
 tionate, indeed, on the part of the Countess, that she could not 
 entirely reconcile her generous mind to exposing Peveril to dan- 
 ger on her son's behalf; and Julian betook himself to his solitary 
 apartment. 
 
 His servant soon afterwards brought him wine and refreshments; 
 
224 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 to which, notwithstanding the various matters he had to occupy 
 his nriind, he contrived to do reasonable justice. But when this 
 needful occupation was finished, his thoughts began to stream in 
 upon him like a troubled tide — at once recalling the past, and an- 
 ticipating the future. It was in vain that he wrapped himself in his 
 riding cloak, and, lying down on his bed, endeavoured to compose 
 himself to sleep. The uncertainly of the prospect before him — the 
 doubt how Bridgenorth might dispose of his daughter during his 
 absence — the fear that the Major himself might fall into the power 
 of the vindictive Countess, besides a numerous train of vague and 
 half-formed apprehensions, agitated his blood, and rendered slum- 
 ber impossible. Alternately to recline in the old oaken easy-chair, 
 and listen to the dashing of the waves under the windows, mingled, 
 as the sound was, with the scream of the sea-birds ^ or to traverse 
 the apartment with long and slow steps, pausing occasionally to 
 look out on the sea, slumbering under the influence of a full moon, 
 which lipped each wave with silver — such were the only pastimes 
 he could invent, until midnight had passed for one hour^ the next 
 was wasted in anxious expectation of the summons of departure. 
 
 At length it arrived — a lap at his door was followed by a low 
 murmur, which made him suspect that the Countess had again em- 
 ployed her mule attendanl as the most secure minister of her plea- 
 sure on this occasion. He felt something like impropriety in this 
 selection; and it was with a feehng of impatience alien to the na- 
 tural generosity of his temper, that, when he opened Ihe door, he 
 beheld the dumb maiden standing before him. The lamp which 
 he held in his hand showed his features distinctly, and probably 
 made Fenella aware of the expression which animated them. She 
 cast her large dark eyes mournfully on the ground; and, without 
 again looking him in the face, made him a signal to follow her. 
 He delayed no longer Ihan was necessary to secure his pistols in 
 his belt, wrap his cloak closer around him, and lake his small 
 portmanteau under his arm. Thus accoutred, he followed her out 
 of the Keep, or inhabited part of the Castle, by a series of obscure 
 passages leading to a postern gate, which she unlocked with a key, 
 selected from a bundle which she carried at her girdle. 
 
 They now stood in the castle-yard, in the open moonlight, which 
 glimmered white and ghastly on the variety of strange and ruinous 
 objects to which we have formerly alluded, and which gave the 
 scene rather the appearance of some ancient cemetery, than of the 
 interior of a fortification. The round and elevated lower — Ihe an- 
 cient mount, with its quadrangular sides facing the ruinous edifices 
 which once boasted the name of Cathedral — seemed of yet more 
 antique and anomalous form, when seen by the pale light which 
 now displayed them. To one of these churches Fenella took the 
 direct course, and was followed by Julian ; although he at once di- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 226 
 
 vined, and was superstitious enough lo dislike, the path which she 
 was about to adopt. It was by a secret passage through this church, 
 .that in former times the guard-room of the garrison, situated at 
 the lower and external defences, communicated with the Keep of 
 the Caslle ; and through this passage were the keys of the Castle 
 every night carried to the Governor's apartment, so soon as the 
 gales were locked, and the watch set. The custom was given up 
 in James the First's lime, and the passage abandoned, on account 
 of the well-known legend of the Mauthe Dog — a fiend, or demon, 
 in the shape of a large, shaggy, black mastiff, by which the church 
 was said to be haunted. It was devoutly believed, that in former 
 times this spectre became so familiar with mankind, as to appear 
 almost nightly in the guard-room, issuing from the passage which 
 we have mentioned at night, and retiring lo it at daybreak. The 
 soldiers became partly familiarized to its presence •, yet not so much 
 so as to use any license of language while the apparition was visi- 
 ble-, until one fellow, rendered daring by intoxication, swore he 
 would know whether it was dog or devil, and, with his drawn sword, 
 followed the spectre when it retreated by the usual passage. The 
 man returned in a few minutes, sobered by terror, his moulh gaping, 
 and his hair standing on end, under which horror he died ; but, 
 unhappily for the lovers of the marvellous,* altogether unable to 
 disclose the horrors which he had seen. Under the evil repute 
 arising from this tale of wonder, the guard-room was abandoned, 
 and a new one constructed. In like manner, the guards after that 
 period held another and more circuitous communication with the 
 Governor or Seneschal of the Caslle 5 and that which lay through 
 the ruinous church was entirely abandoned '. 
 
 In defiance of the legendary terrors which tradition had attached 
 to the original communication, Fenella, followed by Peveril, now 
 boldly traversed the ruinous vaults through which it lay — some- 
 times only guided over heaps of ruins by the precarious light of 
 the lamp borne by the dumb maiden — sometimes having the ad- 
 vantage of a gleam of moonlight, darling into the dreary abyss 
 through the shafted windows, or through breaches made by time. 
 As the path was by no means a straight one, Peveril could not but 
 admire the intimate acquainlance with the mazes which his singu- 
 lar companion displayed, as well as the boldness with which she 
 traversed them. He himself was not so utterly void of the preju- 
 dices of the times, but that he contemplated, with some apprehen- 
 sion, the possibility of their intruding on the lair of the phantom- 
 hound, of which he had heard so often j and in every remote sigh 
 of the breeze among the ruins, he tliought he heard him baying at 
 
 ' This curious legend, and many others, in which the Isle of Man is perhaps richer 
 than even Ireland, Wales, or the Highlands of Scotland, will be found in a note at the end 
 of Chapter XV., page 183 of this volume. 
 
 15 
 
226 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Ihe mortal foolsleps which disturbed his gloomy realm. No such 
 terrors, however, interrupted their journey • and in the course of a 
 few minutes, they attained the deserted and now ruinous guard- 
 house. The broken walls of the little edifice served lo conceal them 
 from the sentinels, one of whom was keeping a drowsy watch at 
 the lower gate of the Castle-, whilst another, seated on the stone 
 steps which communicated with the parapet of the bounding and 
 exterior wall, was slumbering, in full security, with his musket 
 peacefully grounded by his side. Fenella made a sign to Peveril 
 lo move with silence and caution, and (hen showed him, to his 
 surprise, from the window of the deserted guard-room, a boat, for 
 it was now high water, with four rowers, lurking under the cliff 
 on which the Castle was built; and made him farther sensible that 
 he was to have access to it by a ladder of considerable height placed 
 at the window of the ruin. 
 
 Julian was both displeased and alarmed by the security and 
 carelessness of the sentinels, who had suffered such preparations 
 to be made without observations or alarm given; and he hesitated 
 whelher he should not call the officer of the guard, upbraid him 
 with negligence, and show him how easily Holm-Peel, in spite of 
 its natural strength, and although reported impregnable, might be 
 surprised by a few resolute men. Fenella seemed to guess his 
 thoughts with that extreme acuteness of observation which her 
 deprivations had occasioned her acquiring. She laid one hand on 
 his arm, and a finger of Ihe other on her own lips, as if to enjoin 
 forbearance; and Julian, knowing that she acted by the direct au- 
 thority of the Countess, obeyed her accordingly; but with the 
 internal resolution to lose no time in communicating his sentiments 
 to the Earl, concerning the danger to which the Castle was exposed 
 on this point. 
 
 In the meantime, he descended Ihe ladder with some precaution, 
 for the steps were unequal, broken, wet, and slippery; and having 
 placed himself in the stern of the boat, made a signal lo the men 
 to push off, and turned to take farewell of his guide. To his utter 
 astonishment, Fenella rather slid down, than descended regularly, 
 the perilous ladder, and, the boat being already pushed off, made 
 a spring from Ihe last step of it with incredible agility, and seated 
 herself beside Peveril, ere he could express either remonstrance oi- 
 surprise. He commanded the men ance more to pull in to the 
 precarious landing-place; and throwing into his countenance a part 
 of the displeasure which he really felt, endeavoured to make her 
 comprehend the necessity of returning lo her mistress. Fenell*^ 
 folded her arms, and looked at him with a haughty smile, which 
 completely expressed the determination of her purpose. Peveril was 
 extremely embarrassed; he was afraid of offending the Countess, 
 and interfering with her plan, by giving alarm, which otherwise? 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 2^7 
 
 he was much templed to have done. On Fenella, it was evident, 
 no species of argument which he could employ was likely to make 
 the least impression; and the question remained, how, if she went 
 on with him, he was to rid himself of so singular and inconvenient 
 a companion, and provide, at the same time, sufficiently for her 
 personal security. 
 
 The boatmen brought the matter to a decision •, for after lying 
 on their oars for a minute, and whispering among themselves in 
 Low Dutch or German, they began to pull stoutly, and were soon 
 at some distance from the Castle. The possibility of the sentinels 
 sending a musket-ball, or even a cannon-shot, after them, was one 
 * of the contingencies which gave Peveril momentary anxiety; but 
 they left the fortress, as they must have approached it, unnoticed, 
 or at least unchallenged — a carelessness on the part of the gar- 
 rison, which, notwithstanding that the oars were muITled, and that 
 the men spoke little, and in whispers, argued, in Peverirs opinion, 
 great negligence on the part of the sentinels. When they were a 
 little way from the Castle, the men began to row briskly towards a 
 small vessel which lay at some distance. Peveril had, in the mean- 
 time, leisure to remark, that the boatmen spoke to each other 
 doublfully, and bent anxious looks on Fenella, as if uncertain 
 whether they had acted properly in bringing her otT. 
 
 After about a quarter of an hour's rowing, they reached the little 
 sloop, where Peveril was received by the skipper, or captain, on 
 the quarter-deck, with an offer of spirits or refreshments. A word 
 or two among the seamen withdrew the captain from his hospitable 
 cares, and he Hew to the ship's side, apparently to prevent Fenella 
 from entering the vessel. The men and he talked eagerly in Dutch, 
 looking anxiously at Fenella as they spoke together; and Peveril 
 hoped the result would be, that the poor young woman should be 
 sent ashore again. But she baffled whatever opposition could be 
 offered to her; and when the accommodation-ladder, as it is called, 
 was withdrawn, she snatched the end of a rope, and climbed on 
 board with the dexterity of a sailor, leaving them no means of pre- 
 venting her entrance, save by actual violence, to which apparently 
 they did not choose to have recourse. Once on deck, she took the 
 captain by the sleeve, and led him to the head of the vessel, where 
 they seemed to hold intercourse in a manner intelligible to both. 
 
 Peveril soon forgot the presence of the mule, as he began to 
 muse upon his own situation, and the probability that he was 
 separated for some considerable time from the object of his affec- 
 tions " Constancy," he repeated to himself, — " Constancy." And, 
 as if in coincidence with the theme of his reflections, he fixed his 
 eyes on the polar star, which that night twinkled with more than 
 ordinary brilliancy. Emblem of pure passion and steady purpose — 
 the thoughts which arose as he viewed its clear and unchanging 
 
228 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 light, were disinterested and noble. To seek his country's welfare, 
 and secure the blessings of domestic peace— to discharge a bold 
 and perilous duly to his friend and patron — to regard his passion 
 for Alice Bridgenorth, as the loadstar which was to guide him to 
 noble deeds — were the resolutions which thronged upon his mind, 
 and which exalted his spirits to that state of romantic melancholy, 
 which perhaps is ill exchanged even for feelings of joyful rapture. 
 He was recalled from these contemplations by something which 
 nestled itself softly and closely to his side — a woman's sigh sounded 
 so near him, as to disturb his reverie ; and as he turned his head, 
 he saw P'enella seated beside him, with her eyes fixed on the same, 
 star which had just occupied his own. His first emotion was that of 
 displeasure •, but it was impossible to persevere in it towards a being 
 so helpless in many respects, so interesting in others-, whose large 
 dark eyes were filled with dew, which glistened in the moonlight; 
 and the source of whose emotions seemed to be in a partiality which 
 might well claim indulgence, at least from him, who was the object 
 of it. At the same time, Julian resolved to seize the present oppor- 
 tunity for such expostulations with Fenella on the strangeness of 
 her conduct, as the poor maiden might be able to comprehend. 
 He took her hand with great kindness, but at the same time with 
 much gravity, pointed to the boat, and to the Caslle, whose towers 
 and extended walls were now scarce visible in the distance *, and 
 thus intimated to her the necessity of her return to Holm-Peel. 
 She looked down, and shook her head, as if negativing his proposal 
 with obstinate decision. Julian renewed his expostulation by look 
 and gesture — pointed to his own heart, to intimate the Countess, 
 and bent his brows, to show the displeasure which she must en- 
 tertain. To all which, the mute only answered by her tears. 
 
 At length, as if driven to explanation by his continued remon- 
 strances, she suddenly seized him by the arm, to arrest his atten- 
 tion — cast her eye hastily around, as if to see whether she was 
 watched by any one — then drew the other hand, edgewise, across 
 her slender throat — pointed to the boat, and to the Caslle, and 
 nodded. 
 
 On this scries of signs, Peveril could put no interpretation, 
 excepting that he was menaced with some personal danger, from 
 which Fenella seemed to conceive that her presence was a protec- 
 tion. Whatever was her meaning, her purpose seemed unalterably 
 adopted \ at least, it was plain he had no power to shake it. He 
 must therefore wait till the end of their short voyage, to disem- 
 barrass himself of his companion •, and, in the meanwhile, acting 
 on the idea of her having harboured a misplaced attachment to 
 him, he thought he should best consult her interest, and his own 
 character, in keeping at as great a distance from her as circum- 
 stances admitted. With this purpose, he made the sign she used for 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 220 
 
 going to sleep, by leaning his head on his palm ; and having thus 
 recommended lo her to go to rest, he himself desired to be con- 
 ducted to his berth. 
 
 The captain readily showed him a hammock in the after-cabin, 
 into which he threw himself, to seek that repose which the exercise 
 and agitation of the preceding day, as well as the lateness of the 
 hour, made him now feel desirable. Sleep, deep and heavy, sunk 
 down on him in a few minutes, but it did not endure long. In his 
 sleep he was disturbed by female cries; and at length, as he 
 thought, distinctly heard the voice of Alice Bridgenorth call on his 
 name. 
 
 He awoke, and, starling up to quit his bed, became sensible, 
 from the motion of the vessel, and the swinging of Ihe hammock, 
 that his dream had deceived him. He was slili slarlledby its ex- 
 treme vivacity and liveliness. '^ Julian Peveril, help! Julian Pe- 
 veril!" The sounds slill rung in his ears — the accents were those 
 of Alice — and he could scarce persuade himself Ihat his imagination 
 had deceived him. Could she be in the same vessel! The thought 
 was not altogether inconsistent with her father's character, and the 
 inlrigues in which he was engaged ; but then, if so, to what peril 
 was she exposed, that she invoked his name so loudly? 
 
 Determined to make instant enquiry, he jumped out of his ham.- 
 mock, half-dressed as he was, and stumbling about the little cabin, 
 which was as dark as pitch, at length, with considerable difficulty, 
 reached the door. The door, however, he was altogether unable to 
 open ; and was obliged lo call loudly to the walch upon deck. The 
 skipper, or captain, as he was called, being the only person aboard 
 who could speak English, answered to the summons, and replied 
 to Peverirs demand, what noise that was?— that a boat was going 
 off with the young woman — that she whimpered a litlle as she left 
 the vessel — and " dat vaas all." 
 
 This explanation satisfied Julian, who thought it probable that 
 some degree of violence might have been absolutely necessary lo 
 remove Fenella 5 and although he rejoiced at not having witnessed 
 it, he could not feel sorry that such had been employed. Her per- 
 tinacious desire lo continue on board, and the dilficully of freeing 
 himself, when he should come ashore, from so singular a compa- 
 nion, had given him a good deal of anxiety on the preceding night, 
 which he now saw removed by this bold stroke of the captain. 
 
 His dream was thus fully explained. Fancy had caught up the 
 inarticulate and vehement cries with which Fenella was wont lo 
 express resistance or displeasure — had coined them into language, 
 and given them the accents of Alice Bridgenorth. Our imagina- 
 tion plays wilder Iricks with us almost every night. 
 
 The captain now undid the door, and appeared with a lantern ; 
 without the aid of which, Peveril could scarce have regained his 
 
230 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 couch, where he now slumbered secure and sound, unlil day was 
 far advanced, and the invilation of the captain called him up to 
 breakfast. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Now, what is this that haunts me like my shadow. 
 Frisking and mumming, like an elf in moonlight? 
 
 Ben Jon$05. 
 
 Peveril found the master of the vessel rather less rude than 
 those in his station of life usually are, and received from him full 
 satisfaction concerning the fate of Fenella, upon whom the captain 
 bestowed a hearty curse, for obliging him to lay-to unlil he had 
 sent his boat ashore, and had her back again. 
 
 " I hope," said Peveril, " no violence was necessary to reconcile 
 her to go ashore 1 1 trust she offered no foolish resistance?" 
 
 "Resist? mein Gott," said the captain, "she did resist like a 
 troop of horse — she did cry, you might hear her at Whitehaven — 
 she did go up the rigging like a cat up a chimney, but dat was eiu 
 trick of her old trade." 
 
 '^ What trade do you mean ?" said Peveril. 
 "O," said the seaman, " I vasknow more about her than you, 
 Meinheer, I vas know that she vas a little, very little girl, and 
 prentice to one seiltanzer, when my lady yonder had the good luck 
 to buy her." 
 
 " A seiltanzer!" said Peveril ^ " what do you mean by that?" 
 " I mean a rope-danzer, a mountebank, a Hans pickel-harring. 
 I vas know Adrian Bracket veil— he sell de powders dat empty 
 men's stomach, and fill him's own purse. Not know Adrian Brackel, 
 mein Gott I I have smoked many a pound of tabak with him." 
 
 Peveril now remembered that Fenelia had been brought into the 
 family when he and the young Earl were in England, and while the 
 Countess was absent on an expedition to the continent. Where the 
 Countess found her, she never communicated to the young men ; 
 but only intimated, that she had received her out of compassion, 
 in order to relieve her from a situation of extreme distress. 
 
 He hinted so much to the communicative seaman, who replied, 
 " that for distress he knew nocht's on'l; only, that Adrian Brackel 
 beat her when she would not dance on the rope, and starved her 
 when she did, to prevent her growth." The bargain between tlie 
 Countess and the mountebank, he said, he had made himself^ be- 
 cause the Countess had hired his brig upon her expedition to the 
 continent. None else knew wliere she came from. The Countess 
 had seen her on a public stage at Oslend— compassionated her help- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 231 
 
 less siluation, and the severe Irealmenl she received— and had em- 
 ployed him lo purchase the poor creature from her master, and 
 charged him with silence towards all her lelinue ^ — "And so I do 
 keep silence," continued the faithful confidant, "van I am in the 
 havens of Man •, but when I am on the broad seas, den my tongue 
 is mine own, you know. Die foolish beoples in the island, they say 
 she is a wechsel-balg — what you call a fairy-elf changeling. My 
 faith, they do not never have seen ein wechsel-balg j for I saw one 
 myself at Cologne, and it was twice as big as big as yonder girl, 
 and did break the poor people, with eating them up, like de great 
 big cuckoo in the sparrow's nest 5 but this Venella eat no more than 
 other girls— it was no wechsel-balg in tlje world." 
 
 By a different train of reasoning, Julian had arrived at the same 
 conclusion •, in which, therefore, he heartily acquiesced. During 
 the seaman's prosing, he was reflecting within himself, how much 
 of the singular flexibility of her limbs and movements the unfor- 
 tunate girl must have derived from the discipline and instructions 
 of Adrian Backel ^ and also how far the germs of her wilful and 
 capricious passions might have been sown during her wandering 
 and adventurous childhood. Aristocratic, also, as his education had 
 been, these anecdotes respecling Fenella's original situation and 
 education, rather increased his pleasure at having shaken off her 
 company, and yet he still felt desirous to know any farther par- 
 ticulars which the seaman could communicate on the subject. But 
 he had already told all he knew. Of her parents he knew nothing, 
 except that " her f ither must have been a damned hundsfool, and a 
 schelm, for selling his own flesh and blood to Adrian Bracket-," for 
 by such a transaction had the mountebank become possessed of his 
 pupil. 
 
 This conversation tended to remove any passing doubts which 
 might have crept on PeveriKs mind concerning the fidelity of the 
 master of the vessel, who appeared from thence lo have been a 
 former acquaintance of the Countess, and to have enjoyed some 
 share of her confidence. The threatening motion used by Fenella, 
 he no longer considered as worthy of any notice, excepting as a 
 new mark of the irritability of her temper. 
 
 He amused himself with walking the deck, and musing on his 
 past and future prospects, until his attention was forcibly arrested 
 by the wind, which began to rise in gusts from the north-west, in 
 a manner so unfavourable to the course they intended to hold, that 
 the master, after many efforts to beat against it, declared his bark, 
 which was by no means an excellent sea-boat, was unequal to 
 making Whitehaven ; and that he was compelled to make a fair 
 wind of it, and run for Liverpool. To this course Peveril did not 
 
 ' Nole I., p . 237, Sale of a Dancing Girl. 
 
232 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 object. It saved him some land journey, in case he visited his fa- 
 ther's castle 5 and the Countess's commission would be discharged 
 as effectually the one way as the other. 
 
 The vessel was put, accordingly, before the wind, and ran with 
 great steadiness and velocity. The captain, notwithstanding, plead- 
 ing some nautical hazards, chose to lie off, and did not attempt the 
 mouth of the Mersey until morning, when Peveril had at length the 
 satisfaction of being landed upon thequay of Liverpool, which even 
 then showed symptoms of the commercial prosperity that has since 
 been carried to such a height. 
 
 The master, who was well acquainted with the port, pointed 
 out to Julian a decent place of entertainment, chiefly frequented 
 by seafaring people; for although he had been in the town for- 
 merly, he did not think it proper to go any where at present where 
 he might have been unnecessarily recognised. Here he look leave 
 of the seaman, after pressing upon him with ditficulty a small pre- 
 sent for his crew. As for his passage, the captain declined any re- 
 compense whatever; and they parted upon the most civil terms. 
 
 The inn to which he was recommended was full of strangers, sea- 
 men, and mercantile people, all intent upon their own affairs, and 
 discussing them with noise and eagerness, peculiar to the business 
 of a thriving seaport. Butaltliough the general clamour of the public 
 room, in which the guests mixed with each other, related chiefly to 
 their own commercial dealings, there was a general theme mingUng 
 with them, which was alike common and interesting to. all ; so that, 
 amidst disputes about freight, tonnage, demurrage, and such like, 
 were heard the emphatic sounds of "Deep, damnable, accursed 
 plot."— "Bloody Papist villains."— *' The King in danger— the 
 gallows loo good for them," and so forth. 
 
 The fermentation excited in London had plainly reached even this 
 remote seaport, and was received by the inhabitants wilh the pecu- 
 liar stormy energy which invests men in their situation with Ihe 
 character of Ihe winds and waves with which they are chiefly con- 
 versant. The commercial and nautical interest of England were 
 indeed particularly anti-catholic •, although it is not, perhaps, easy 
 to give any distinct reason why they should be so, since theological 
 disputes in general could scarce be considered as interesting to 
 them. But zeal, amongst the lower orders at least, is often in an 
 inverse ratio to knowledge ; and sailors were not probably the less 
 earnest and devoted Protestants, that they did not understand the 
 controversy between the Churches. As for the merchants, they 
 were almost necessarily inimical to the gentry of Lancashire and 
 Cheshire; many of whom still retained the faith of Rome, which 
 was rendered ten times more odious to the men olf commerce, as 
 the badge of their haughty aristocratic neighbours. 
 
 From the little which Peveril heard of the sentiments of the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 233 
 
 people of Liverpool, he imagined he should act most prudently in 
 leaving the place as soon as possible, and before any suspicion should 
 arise of his having any connexion with Ihe party which appeared to 
 have become so obnoxious. 
 
 In order to accomplish his journey, it was first necessary Ihat 
 he should purchase a horse ^ and for this purpose he resolved to 
 have recourse to the stables of a dealer well known at the time, 
 and who dwelt in the outskirts of the place •, and having obtained 
 directions to his dwelling, he went (hither to provide himself. 
 
 Joe Bridlesley's slables exhibited a large choice of good horses ; 
 for that trade was in former days more active than at present. It 
 was an ordinary thing for a stranger to buy a horse for the purpose 
 of a single journey, and to sell him, as well as he could, when he 
 had reached the point of his destination ^ and hence there was a 
 constant demand, and a corresponding supply 5 upon both of which 
 Bridlesley, and those of his trade, contrived, doubtless, to make 
 handsome profits. 
 
 Julian, who was no despicable horse-jockey, selected for his 
 purpose a strong well-made horse, about sixteen hands high, and 
 had him led into the yard, to see w helher his paces corresponded 
 with his appearance. As these also gave perfect satisfaction to the 
 customer, it remained only to settle the price with Bridlesley 5 who 
 of course swore his customer had pitched upon the best horse ever 
 darkened the stable-door, since he had dealt that way \ that no such 
 horses were to be had now-a-days, for that the mares were dead that 
 foaled them : and having named a corresponding price, the usual 
 haggling commenced betwixt the seller and purchaser, for adjut- 
 ment of what the French dealers call le prix juste. 
 
 The reader, if he be at all acquainted with this sort of traffic, 
 well knows it is generally a keen encounter of wits, and attracts 
 the notice of all the idlers within hearing, who are usually very 
 ready to offer their opinions, or their evidence. Amongst these, 
 upon the present occasion, was a thin man, rather less than the 
 ordinary size, and meanly dressed ^ but whose interference was in 
 a confident tone, and such as showed himself master of the subject 
 on which he spoke. The price of the horse being settled to about 
 fifteen pounds, which was very high for the period, that of the 
 saddle and bridle had next to be adjusted, and the thin mean- 
 looking person before mentioned, found nearly as much to say on 
 this subject as on the other. As his remarks had a concihating and 
 obliging tendency towards the stranger, Peveril concluded he was 
 one of those idle persons, who, unable or unwilling to supply 
 themselves with the means of indulgence at their own cost, do not 
 scruple to deserve them at the hands of others, by a little officious 
 complaisance ; and considering that he might acquire some useful 
 information from such a person, was just about to offer him the 
 
234 PEVEBIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 courtesy of a morning draught, when he observed he had suddenly 
 left the yard. He had scarce remarked this circumstance, before a 
 parly of customers entered the place, whose haughty assumption 
 of importance claimed the instant attention of Bridlesley, and all his 
 miUlia of grooms and stable-boys. 
 
 " Three good horses," said the leader of (he parly, a tail bulky 
 man, whose breath was drawn full and high, under a consciousness 
 of fat, and of importance — " three good and able-bodied horses, for 
 the service of the Commons of England." 
 
 Bridlesley said he had some horses which might serve the Speaker 
 himself at need ^ but that, to speak Christian truth, he had just sold 
 the best in his stable to that gentleman present, who, doubtless, 
 would give up the bargain if the horse was needed for the service 
 of the state. 
 
 " You speak well, friend," said the important personage ^ and ad- 
 vancing to Julian, demanded, in a very haughty tone, the surrender 
 of the purchase which he had just made. 
 
 Peveril, with some difficulty, subdued the strong desire which 
 he fell to return a round refusal to so unreasonable a request, but 
 fortunately, recollecting that the situation in which he at present 
 stood, required, on his part, much circumspection, he replied sim- 
 ply, that upon showing him any warrant to seize upon horses 
 for the public service, he must of course submit to resign his pur- 
 chase. 
 
 The man, with an air of extreme dignity, pulled from his pocket 
 and thrust intoPeveril's hands, a warrant subscribed by the Speaker 
 of the House of Commons, empowering Charles Topham, their 
 officer of the Black Rod, to pursue and seize upon the persons of 
 certain individuals named in the warrant; and of all other persons 
 who are, or should be, accused by competent witnesses, of being 
 accessory to, or favourers of, the hellish and damnable Popish Plot, 
 at present carried on within the bowels of the kingdom ; and charg- 
 ing all men, as they loved their allegiance, to render the said Charles 
 Topham the readiest and most effective assistance, in execution of 
 the duty intrusted to his care. 
 
 On perusing a document of such weighty import, Julian had no 
 hesitation to give up his horse to this formidable functionary ; 
 whom somebody compared lo a lion, which, as the House of Com- 
 mons was pleased to maintain such an animal, they were under the 
 necessity of providing for by frequent commitments ; until " Take 
 hlrrif Topham^'' became a proverb, and a formidable one, in the 
 mouth of the public. 
 
 The acquiescence of Peveril procured him some graceinthesight 
 of the emissary ^ who, before selecling two horses for his attendants, 
 gave permission lo the stranger lo purchase a grey horse, much 
 inferior indeed lo Ihal which he had resigned, bolh in form and in 
 
PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. 23^ 
 
 action, but very little lower in price, as Mr. Bridlesley, immedi- 
 ately on learning the demand for horses upon the part of Ihe Com- 
 mons of England, had passed a private resolution in his own mind, 
 augmenting the price of his whole stud, by an imposition of at least 
 twenty per cent, ad valorem. 
 
 Peveril adjusted and paid the price with much less argument than 
 on the former occasion \ for to be plain with the reader, he had 
 noticed in the warrant of Mr. Topham, the name of his father, Sir 
 Geoffrey Peveril of Martindale Castle, engrossed at full length, as 
 one of those subjected to arrest by that officer. 
 
 When aware of this material fact, it became Julian's business 
 to leave Liverpool directly, and carry the alarm to Derbyshire, if, 
 indeed, Mr. Topham had not already executed his charge in that 
 country, which he thought unlikely, as it was probable they would 
 commence by securing those who lived nearest to the seaports. A 
 word or two which he overheard, strengthened his hopes. 
 
 " And hark ye, friend," said Mr. Topham ^ "you will have the 
 horses at the door of Mr. Shorteli, the mercer, in two hours, as we 
 shall refresh ourselves there with a cool tankard, and learn what 
 folks live in the neighbourhood that may be concerned in my way. 
 And you will please to have that saddle padded, for I am told the 
 Derbyshire roads are rough.— And you. Captain Dangerfield, and 
 Master Everett, you must put on your Protestant spectacles, and 
 show me where there is the shadow of a priest, or of a priest's fa- 
 vourer •, fori am come down with a broom in my cap to sweep this 
 north country of such like cattle." 
 
 One of the persons he thus addressed, who wore the garb of a 
 broken-down citizen, only answered, " Ay, truly. Master Topham, 
 it is time to purge the garner." 
 
 The other, who had a formidable pair of whiskers, a red nose, 
 and a tarnished laced coat, together with a hat of Pistol's dimen- 
 sions, was more loquacious. " I lake it on my damnation," said 
 this zealous Protestant witness, " that I will discover ilie marks of 
 the beast on every one of them betwixt sixteen and seventy, as 
 plainly as if they had crossed themselves with ink, instead of holy 
 water. Since we have a King willing to do justice, and a House of 
 Commons to uphold prosecutions, why, damn me, the cause must 
 not stand still for lack of evidence." 
 
 "Stick to that, noble captain," answered the officer^ ''but, 
 prithee, reserve thy oaths for the court of justice 5 it is but sheer 
 waste to throw them away, as you do, in your ordinary conversa- 
 tion." 
 
 "Fear you nothing, Master Topham," answered Dangerfield ; 
 " it is right to keep a man's gifts in use; and were I altogether to 
 renounce oaths in my private discourse, how should I know how 
 to use one when I needed it? Bui vou hear me use none of your 
 
236 PEVEUIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Papist abjurations. I swear not by the Mass, or before George, or 
 by any thing that belongs to idolatry; but such downright oaths as 
 may serve a poor Protestant gentleman, who would fain serve Heaven 
 and the King." 
 
 " Bravely spoken, most noble Festus," said his yoke-fellow. 
 ^' But do not suppose, that although I am not in the habit of gar- 
 nishing my words with oaths out of season, I shall be wanting, 
 when called upon, to declare the heighl and the depth, the width 
 and the length, of this hellish plot against the King and the Pro- 
 testant faith." 
 
 Dizzy, and almost sick, with listening to the undisguised bruta- 
 lity of these fellows, Peveril, having with diflTiculty prevailed on 
 Bridlesley to settle his purchase, at length led forth his grey steed; 
 but was scarce out of the yard, when he heard the following 
 alarming conversation pass, of which he seemed himself the 
 object. 
 
 "Who is that youth?" said the slow soft voice of the more pre- 
 cise of the two witnesses. " Methinks I have seen him somewhere 
 before. Is he from these parts ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," said Bridlesley ; who, like all the other 
 inhabitants of England at the time, answered the interrogatories of 
 these fellows with the deference which is paid in Spain to the ques- 
 tions of an inquisitor. "A stranger — entirely a stranger — never 
 saw him before — a wild young colt, I warrant him ; and knows a 
 horse's mouth as well as I do." 
 
 " I begin to bethink me I saw such a face as his at the Jesuits' 
 consult, in the White Horse Tavern," answered Everett. 
 
 " And I think I recollect," said Captain Dangerfield 
 
 " Come, come, master and captain," said the authoritative voice 
 of Topham, " we will have none of your recollections at present. 
 We all know what these are likely to end in. But I will have you 
 know, you are not to run till the leash is slipped. The young man 
 is a well-looking lad, and gave up his horse handsomely for the 
 service of the House of Commons. He knows how to behave him- 
 self to his betters, I warrant you : and I scarce think he has enough 
 in his purse to pay the fees ' ." 
 
 This speech concluded the dialogue, which Peveril, finding 
 himself so much concerned in the issue, thought it best to hear 
 to an end. Now when it ceased, to get out of the town unob- 
 served, and take the nearest way to his father's castle, seemed his 
 wisest plan. He had settled his reckoning at the inn, and brought 
 with him to Bridlesley's the small portmanteau which conlained 
 his few necessaries, so that he had no occasion to return thither. 
 He resolved, therefore, to ride some miles before he stopped, even 
 
 • No c II., p. 238. Witnesses of the Popish Plot. 
 
PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 237 
 
 for Ihe purpose of feeding his horse ^ and being prelly well ac- 
 quainted with the country, he hoped lo be able to push forward 
 to Martindale Castle sooner than the worshipful Master Topham •, 
 whose saddle was, in the first place, to be padded, and who, when 
 mounted, would, in all probabihty, ride with the precaution of 
 those who require such security against the effects of a hard trot. 
 
 Under the influence of these feelings, Julian pushed for War- 
 rington, a place with which he was well acquainted 5 but, without 
 halting in the town, he crossed the Mersey, by tiie bridge built by 
 an ancestor of his friend the Earl of Derby, and continued his route 
 towards Dishley, on the borders of Derbyshire. He might have 
 reached this latter tillage easily, had his horse been fitter for a 
 forced march; but in the course of the journey, he had occa- 
 sion, more than once, to curse the official dignity of (he person who 
 had robbed him of his better steed, while taking the best direction 
 he could through a country with which he was only generally ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 At length, near Altringham, a halt became unavoidable; and 
 Peveril had only to look for some quiet and sequestered place of 
 refreshment. This presented itself, in the form of a small cluster 
 of cottages ; the best of which united the characters of an alehouse 
 and a mill, where the sign of the Cat (the landlord's faithful ally in 
 defence of his mealsacks), booted as high as Grimalkin in the fairy 
 tale, and playing on the fiddle for the more grace, announced that 
 John Whitecraft united the two honest occupations of landlord 
 and miller 5 and, doubtless, took toll from the public in both capa- 
 cities. 
 
 Such a place promised a traveller, who journeyed incognito, safer,* 
 if not better accommodation, than he was like to meet with in more 
 frequented inns ; and at the door of the Cat and Fiddle, Julian halted 
 accordingly. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Note I., p. 231.— Sale of a Dancing Girl. 
 
 An instance of such a sale of an unfortunate dancing girl occurred in Edinburgh in 
 the end of the sevenleenlh century. 
 
 " I3th January, 1687.— ReiJ, the mountebank, pursues Scott of Harden and his lady, 
 for stealing away from him a little girl called The tumbling lassie, that danced upon a 
 stage, and he claimed damages, and produced a contract, by which he bought her from 
 her mother for thirty pounds Scots [2/. 10^. sterling]. But we have no slaves in Scot- 
 land," continues the liberal reporter," and mothers cannot sell their bairns : and physi- 
 cians attested that the employment of tumbling would kill her, and her joints were now 
 grown stiff, and she declined to return, though she was at least an apprentice, and could 
 not run away from her master. Yet some quoted Moses's Law, that if a servant shelter 
 himself with thee, against his master's cruelty, thou shalt surely not deliver him up. 
 The Lords, renilente cancellario, assoilzied [i. e. acquitted] Harden."— Folntainhall's 
 Decisio7is, \ol.i. p. 4H. 
 
 A man may entertain some vanity in being connected with a patron of the cause of 
 humanity, so the author may be pardoned mentioning, that he derives his own direct 
 descent from the father of this champion of humanity. 
 
538 PEVERIL OF THE PEA.K. 
 
 Reid Ihe mountebank apparently knew well how to set the sails of his own interest to 
 whatever wind proved most likely to turn them. He failed not to avail himself of King 
 James's rage for the conversion of heretics, on which subject Fountainhall has this 
 sarcastic memorandum .— 
 
 " Reid the mountebank is received into the Popish church, and one of his blackamoors 
 was persuaded to accept of baptism from the Popish priests, and to turn Christian Papist, 
 which was a great trophy. He was christened James after the King, and Chancellor, and 
 tl»e Apostle James .' "—Ibid., p. 440. 
 
 Note II., p. 236.— Witnesses of the Popish Plot. 
 
 The infamous character of those who contrived and carried on the pretended Popish 
 Plot, may be best estimated by the account given in North's Examen, who describes 
 Oates himself with considerable power of colouring. " He was now in his trine exalta- 
 tion, his plot in full force, efficacy, and virtue; he walked about with his guards (assigned 
 for fear of the Papists murdering him). He had lodgings in Whitehall, and 1200/. per 
 annum pension .- And no wonder, after he had the impudence to say to the House of 
 Lords, in plain terms, that, if they would not help him to more money, he must be forced 
 to help himself. He put on an Episcopal garb (except the lawn sleeves), silk-gown and 
 cassock, great hat, satin hatband and rose, long scarf, and was called, or most blasphe- 
 mously called himself the Saviour of the nation ; whoever he pointed at, was taken up 
 and committed : so that many people got out of his way, as from a blast, and glad they 
 could prove their two last years' conversation. The very breath of him was pestilential, 
 and, if it brought not imprisonment, or death, over such on whom it fell, it surely poi- 
 soned reputation, and left good Protestants arrant Papists, and something worse than 
 that— in danger of being put in the plot as traitors. Upon his examination before the 
 Commons, the Lord Chief-Justice Scroggs was sent for to the House, and there signed 
 warrants for the imprisonment of five Roman Catholic peers, upon which they were laid 
 up in the Tower. The votes of the Houses seemed to confirm the whole. A solemn form 
 of prayer was desired upon the subject of the plot, and when one was prepared, it was 
 found faulty, because the Papists were not named as authors of it : God surely knew 
 whether it were so or not .- however, it was yielded to, that omniscience might not want 
 information. The Queen herself was accused at the Commons bar. The city, for fear of 
 the Papists, put up their posts and chains : and the chamberlain, Sir Thomas Player, in 
 the Court of Aldermen, gave his reason for the city's using that caution, which was that 
 he did not know but the next morning they might all rise with their throats cut. The 
 trials, convictions, and executions of the priests, Jesuits, and others, were had, and 
 attended with vast mob and noise. Nothing ordinary or moderate was to be heard in 
 people's communication ; but every debate and action was high-flown and tumultuous. 
 ^Vll freedom of speech was taken away; and not to believe the plot, was worse than being 
 Turk, Jew, or infidel. For this fact of Godfrey's murder, the three poor men of Somerset- 
 house were, as was said, convicted. The most pitiful circumstance was that of their 
 trial, under the popular prejudice against them. The Lord Chief-Justice Scroggs tookift 
 with the tide, and ranted for the plot, hewing down Popery, as Scanderbeg hewed the 
 Turk ; which was but little propitious to them. The other judges were passive, and med- 
 dled little, except some that were takers in also ; and particularly the good Recorder 
 Treby, who eased the Attorney-General, for he seldom asked a question, but one might 
 guess he foresaw the answer. Some may blame the (at best) passive behaviour of the 
 judges; but really, considering it was impossible to stem such a current, the appearing 
 to do it in vain had been more unprofitable, because it had inflamed the great and small 
 rout, drawn scandal on themselves, and disabled them from taking in when opportunity 
 should be more favourable. The prisoners, under these hardships, had enough to do to 
 make any defence ; for where the testimony was positive, it was conclusive ; for no rea- 
 soning ah improbabili would serve the turn ; it must be ab impossibili, or not at all. 
 Whoever doth not well observe the power of judging, may think many things, in the 
 course of justice, very strange. If one side is held to demonstration, and the other allowed 
 presumptions for proofs, any cause may be carried. Jn a word, anger, policy, inhuma- 
 nity, and prejudice, had, at this time, a planetary possession of the minds of most men, 
 and destroyed in them that golden rule, of doing as they would be done unto." 
 
 In another passage, Oates's personal appearance is ihus described.—" He was a low 
 man, of an ill cut, very short neck, and his visage and features were most p;irticular. His 
 mouth was the centre of his face; and a compass there would sweep his nose, forehead, 
 and chin, within the perimeter. Cave quos ipse Deus nolavit. In a word, he was a most 
 consummate cheat, blasphemer, vicious, perjured, impudent, and saucy, foul -mouth'd 
 wretch ; and were it nor for the truth of history, and the great emotions in the public hi? 
 was the cause of, not fit (so little deserving) ^o be remembered." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 2*19 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 In these distracted limes, when each man dread» 
 The bloody stratagems of busy heads. 
 
 Otway. 
 
 At the door of Ihe Cat and Fiddle, Julian received the usual at- 
 tention paid to the customers of an inferior house of enlerlainmenl. 
 His horse was carried by a ragged lad, who acted as hostler, inlo 
 a paltry stable-, where, however, the nag was tolerably supplied with 
 food and litter. 
 
 Having seen the animal on which his comfort, perhaps his safety, 
 depended, properly provided for, Peveril entered the kitchen, w hich 
 indeed was also the parlour and hall of the little hostelry, to (ry what 
 refreshment he could obtain for himself. Much to his satisfaction, 
 he found there was only one guest in the house besides himself ; but 
 he was less pleased when he found that he must either go without 
 dinner, or share with that single guest the only provisions which 
 chanced to be in the house, namely, a dish of trouts and eels, which 
 their host, the miller, had brought in from his mill-stream. 
 
 At the particular request of Julian, the landlady undertook to 
 add a substanlial dish of eggs and bacon, which perhaps she would 
 not have undertaken for, had not the sharp eye of Peveril disco- 
 vered the flitch hanging in its smoky retreat, when, as its presence 
 could not be denied, the hostess was compelled to bring it forward 
 as a part of her supplies. 
 
 She was a buxom dame about thirty, whose comely and cheerful 
 countenance did honour to the choice of the jolly miller, her loving 
 mate^ and was now stationed under the shade of an old-fashioned 
 huge projecting chimney, within which it was her province to 
 "work r the fire," and provide for the wearied wayfaring man the 
 good things which were to send him rejoicing on his course. 
 Although, at first, the honest woman seemed little disposed to give 
 herself much additional trouble on Julians account, yet the good 
 looks, handsome figure, and easy civility of her new guest, soon 
 bespoke the principal part of her attention *, and while busy in his 
 service, she regarded him, from time to time, with looks, where 
 something like pity mingled with complacency. The rich smoke cf 
 the rasher, and the eggs with which it was flanked, already spread 
 itself through the apartment; and the hissing of these savoury 
 viands bore chorus to the simmering of the pan, in which the fish 
 were undergoing a slower decoction. The table was covered with 
 a clean huck-a-back napkin, and all was in preparation for the 
 meal, which Julian began to expect with a good deal of impaliencCj 
 
240 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 when the companion who was destined to share it with him, entered 
 the apartment. 
 
 At the first glance, Julian recognised, to his surprise, the same 
 indifTerenlly-dressed, thin-looking person, who, during the first 
 bargain which he had made with Bridlesley, had officiously in- 
 terfered with his advice and opinion. Displeased at having the 
 company of any stranger forced upon him, Peveril was still less 
 satisfied to find one who might make some claim of acquaintance 
 with him, however slender, since the circumstances in which he 
 stood compelled him to be as reserved as possible. He therefore 
 turned his back upon his destined messmate, and pretended to amuse 
 himself by looking out of the window, determined to avoid all 
 intercourse until it should be inevitably forced upon him. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the other stranger went siraight up to the 
 landlady, where she toiled on household cares intent, and demanded 
 of her, what she meant by preparing bacon and eggs, when he had 
 positively charged her to get nothing ready but the fish. 
 
 The good woman, important as every cook in the discharge of 
 her duty, deigned not for some time so much as to acknowledge that 
 she heard the reproof of her guesl ; and when she did so, it was only 
 to repel it in a magisterial and authoritative tone. — " If he did not 
 like bacon — (bacon from their own hutch, well fed on pease and 
 bran) — if he did not like bacon and eggs — (new-laid eggs, which 
 she had brought in from the hen-roost with her own hands) — why so 
 put case — it was the worse for his honour, and the better for those 
 who did." 
 
 "The better for those who like them?" answered the guest; 
 "that is as much as to say I am to have a companion, good 
 woman." 
 
 " Do not good woman me, sir," replied the miller's wife, " till I 
 call you good man •, and, I promise you, many would scruple to do 
 that to one who does not love eggs and bacon of a Friday." 
 
 "Nay, my good lady," said her guest, " do not fix any miscon- 
 struction upon me — I dare say the eggs and the bacon are excel- 
 lent ; only, they are rather a dish too heavy for my stomach." 
 
 " Ay, or your conscience, perhaps, sir," answered the hostess. 
 " And now, I bethink me, you must needs have your fish fried with 
 oil, instead of the good drippings I was going to put to them. I 
 would I could spell the meaning of all this now •, but I warrant 
 John Bigstaff, the constable, could conjure something out of it." 
 
 There was a pause here; but Julian, somewhat alarmed at the 
 tone which the conversation assumed, became interested in watch- 
 ing the dumb show which succeeded. By bringing his head a little 
 towards the left, but without turning round, or quitting the pro- 
 jecting latticed window where he had taken his station, he could 
 observe that the stranger, secured, as he seemed to think himself, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 241 
 
 from observation, had sidled close up to the landlady, and, as he 
 conceived, had put a piece of money into her hand. The altered 
 tone of the miller's moiety corresponded very much with this sup- 
 position. 
 
 " Nay, indeed, and forsooth," she said, " her house was Liberty- 
 hall i and so should every publican's be. What was it to her what 
 gentlefolks ate or drank, providing they paid for it honestly? There 
 were many honest gentlemen, whose stomachs could not abide ba- 
 con, grease, or dripping, especially on a Friday •, and what was that 
 to her, or any one in her line, so gentlefolks paid honestly for the 
 trouble ? Only, she would say, that her bacon and eggs could not be 
 mended betwixt this and Liverpool; and that she would live 
 and die upon." 
 
 " I shall hardly dispute it," said the stranger; and turning to- 
 wards Julian, he added, " I wish this gentleman, who I suppose is 
 my trencher-companion, much joy of the dainties which I cannot 
 assist him in consuming." 
 
 " I assure you, sir," answered Peveril, who now felt himself 
 compelled to turn about, and reply with civility, " that it was with 
 difficulty I could prevail on my landlady to add my cover to yours, 
 though she seems now such a zealot for the consumption of eggs 
 and bacon." 
 
 '' I am zealous for nothing," said the landlady, " save that men 
 would eat their victuals, and pay their score ; and if there be enough 
 in one dish to serve two guests, I see little purpose in dressing 
 Ihem two ; however, they are ready now, and done to a nicety. — 
 Here, Alice ! Ahcc !" 
 
 The sound of that well-known name made Julian start ;'but the 
 Alice who replied to the call ill resembled the vision which his ima- 
 gination connected with the accents, being a dowdy slipshod wench, 
 the drudge of the low inn which afforded him shelter. She assisted 
 her mistress in putting on the table the dishes which the latter had 
 prepared ; and a foaming jug of home-brewed ale being placed 
 betwixt them, was warranted by Dame Whilecraft as excellent; 
 "for," said she, " we know by practice that too much water 
 drowns the miller, and we spare it on our malt as we would in our 
 mill-dam." 
 
 " I drink to your health in it, dame," said the elder stranger; 
 " and a cup of thanks for these excellent fish ; and to the drowning 
 of all unkindness between us." 
 
 " I thank you, sir," said the dame, " and wish you the like ; but 
 I dare not pledge you, for our Gaffer says, the ale is brewed too 
 strong for women ; so I only drink a glass of canary at a time with 
 a gossip, or any gentleman guest that is so minded." 
 
 " You shall drink one with me then, dame," said Peveril, " so 
 you will let me have a flagon." 
 
 16 
 
242 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " That you shall, sir, and as good as ever was broached ; but I 
 must to the mill, to get the key from the goodman." 
 
 So saying, and tucking her clean gown through the pocket holes, 
 that her steps might be the more alert, and her dress escape dust, off 
 she tripped to the mill, which lay close adjoining, 
 
 " A dainty dame, and dangerous, is the miller's wife," said the 
 stranger, looking at Peveril. '' Is not that old Chaucer's phrase?" 
 
 " I — I believe so," said Peveril, not much read in Chaucer, who 
 was then even more neglected than at present 5 and much surprised 
 at a literary quotation from one of the mean appearance exhibited 
 by the person before him. 
 
 " Yes," answered the stranger, " I see that you, like other young 
 gentlemen of the time, are better acquainted with Cowley and Waller, 
 than with the ' well of English undefiled.' I cannot help differing. 
 There are touches of nature about the old bard of Woodstock, that, 
 to me, are worth all the turns of laborious wit in Cowley, and all 
 the ornate and artificial simplicity of his courtly competitor. The 
 description, for instance, of his country coquette, 
 
 ' Wincing she was, as is a wanton coJt, 
 Sweet as a flower, and upright as a bolt.' 
 
 Then again, for pathos, where will you mend the dying scene of 
 Arcite? 
 
 ' Alas, my heartis queen ! alas, my wife ! 
 Giver at once, and ender of my life. 
 What is this world? — What axen men to have? 
 Now with his love — now in his cold grave 
 Alone, withouten other company.' 
 
 But I tire you, sir-, and do injustice to the poet, whom I remem- 
 ber but by halves." 
 
 "On the contrary, sir," replied Peveril, "you make him more 
 intelligible to me in your recitation, than I have found him when 1 
 have tried to peruse him myself." 
 
 " You were only frightened by the antiquated spelling, and ' the 
 letters black,' " said his companion. " It is many a scholar's case, 
 who mistakes a nut, which he could crack with a little exertion, 
 for a bullet, which he must needs break his teeth on ; but yours are 
 belter employed. — Shall I offer you some of this fish?" 
 
 " Not so, sir," replied Julian, willing to show himself a man of 
 reading in his turn ^ " I hold with old Caius, and profess to fear 
 judgment, to fight where I cannot choose, and to eat no fish." 
 
 The stranger cast a startled look around him at this observation, 
 which Julian had thrown out, on purpose to ascertain, if possible, 
 the quality of his companion, whose present language was so dif- 
 ferent from the character he had assumed at Bridlesley's. His 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 243 
 
 countenance, too, although the features were of an ordinary » not 
 to say niean cast, had that character of intelligence which education 
 gives to the most homely face ; and his manners were so easy and 
 disembarrassed, as plainly showed a complete acquaintance with 
 society, as well as the habit of mingling with it in the higher stages. 
 The alarm which he had evidently shown at Peveril's answer, was 
 but momentary ; for he almost instantly replied, with a smile, "I 
 promise you, sir, that you are in no dangerous company^ for, 
 notwithstanding my fish dinner, I am much disposed to trifle with 
 some of your savoury mess, if you will indulge me so far." 
 
 Peveril accordingly reinforced the stranger's trencher with what 
 remained of the bacon and eggs, and saw him swallow a mouthful 
 or two with apparent relish \ but presently after, he began to dally 
 with his knife and fork, like one whose appetite was satiated ; then 
 took a long draught of the black jack, and handed his platter to the 
 large mastiff dog, who, attracted by the smell of the dinner, had 
 sat down before him for some time, licking his chops, and fol- 
 lowing with his eye every morsel which the guest raised to his 
 head. 
 
 " Here, my poor fellow," said he, '' thou hast had no fish, and 
 needest this supernumerary trencher-load more than I do. I can- 
 not withstand thy mute supplication any longer." 
 
 The dog answered these courtesies by a civil shake of the tail, 
 while he gobbled up what was assigned him by the stranger's be- 
 nevolence, in the greater haste, that he heard his mistress's voice 
 at the door. 
 
 " Here is the canary, gentlemen," said the landlady ^ " and the 
 goodman has set off the mill, to come to wait on you himself. He 
 always does so, when company drink wine." 
 
 *' That he may come in for the host's, that is, for the lion's 
 share," said the stranger, looking at Peveril. 
 
 ''The shot is mine," said Julian-, " and if mine host will share 
 it, I will wiUingly bestow another quart on him, and on you, sir. 
 I never break old customs." 
 
 These sounds caught the ear of Gaffer Whitecraft, who had en- 
 tered the room, a strapping specimen of his robust trade, prepared 
 to play the civil, or the surly host, as his company should be ac- 
 ceptable or otherwise. At Julian's invitation, he doffed his dusty 
 bonnet — brushed from his sleeve the looser particles of his profes- 
 sional dust — and silling down on the end of a bench, about a yard 
 from the table, filled a glass of canary, and drank to his guests, 
 and "especially to this noble gentleman," indicating Peveril, who 
 had ordered the canary. 
 
 JuHan returned the courtesy by drinking his health, and asking 
 what news were about in the country. 
 
 "Nought, sir, I hears on nought, except this Plot, as they call 
 
244 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 it, Ihatthey are pursuing Ihe Papishers about ^ but it brings water 
 to my mill, as the saying is. Between expresses hurrying hither 
 and thither, and guards and prisoners riding to and again, and the 
 custom of the neighbours, that come (o speali over the news of an 
 evening, nightly I may say, instead of once a-week, why the spi- 
 got is in use, gentlemen, and your land thrives ; and then I serving 
 as constable, and being a known Protestant, I have tapped, I may 
 venture to say, it may be ten stands of ale extraordinary, besides 
 a reasonable sale of wine for a country corner. Heaven make us 
 thankful, and keep all good Protestants from Plot and Popery!" 
 
 " 1 can easily conceive, my friend," said Julian, " that curiosity 
 is a passion which runs naturally to the alehouse^ and that anger, 
 and jealousy,, and fear, are all of them thirsty passions, and great 
 consumers of home-brewed. But I am a perfect stranger in these 
 parts; and I would willingly learn, from a sensible man like you, 
 a little of this same Plot, of which men speak so much, and appear 
 to know so lillle." 
 
 "Learn a little of it? — Why, it is the most horrible — the most 
 damnable, blood-thirsty beast of a Plot — But hold, hold, my good 
 master,- I hope, in the first place, you believe there is a Plot? for, 
 otherwise, the Justice must have a word with you, so sure as my 
 name is John Whilecraft." 
 
 '' It shall not need," said Peveril •, " for I assure you, mine host, I 
 believe in the Plot as freely and fully as a man can believe in any 
 thing he cannot understand." 
 
 "God forbid that any body should pretend to understand it," 
 said the implicit constable ; "for his worship the Justice says it is a 
 mile beyond him ; and he be as deep as most of them. But men 
 may believe, though they do not understand-, and that is what the 
 Romanists say themselves. But this I am sure of, it makes a rare 
 stirring time for justices, and witnesses, and constables. — So here's 
 to your health again, gentlemen, in a cup of neat canary." 
 
 "Come, cojiie, John Whitecraft," said his wife, " do not you 
 demean yourself by naming witnesses along with justices and con- 
 stables. All the world knows how they come by their money." 
 
 "Ay, but all the world knows that they do come by it, dame; 
 and that is a great comfort. They rustle in their canonical silks, 
 and swagger in their buff and scarlet, who but they? — Ay, ay, the 
 cursed fox thieves — and not so cursed neither. Is there not Doctor 
 Titus Gates, the saviour of the nation— does he not live at White- 
 hall, and eat off plate, and have a pension of thousands a-year, for 
 what I know? and is he not to be Bishop of Litchfield, so soon as 
 Dr. Doddrum dies?" 
 
 "Then I hope Doctor Doddrum's reverence will live these 
 twenty years ; and I dare say I am the first that ever wished such a 
 wish," said the hostess. " 1 do not understand these doings, not I; 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 245 
 
 and if a hundred Jesuits came lo hold a consult at my house, as 
 they did at the White Horse Tavern, I should think it quite out of 
 the line of business to bear witness against them, provided they 
 drank well, and paid their score." 
 
 "Very true, dame," said her elder guest ^ ''that is what I call 
 keeping a good publican conscience ; and so I will pay score pre- 
 sently, and be jogging on my way." 
 
 Peveril, on his part, also demanded a reckoning, and discharged 
 it so liberally, that the miller flourished his hat as he bowed, and 
 the hostess curlsied down lo the ground. 
 
 The horses of both guests were brought forth : and they mounted, 
 in order to depart in company. The host and hostess stood in the 
 doorway, to. see them depart. The landlord prolTered a stirrup- 
 cup to the elder guest, while the landlady offered Peveril a glass 
 from her own peculiar bottle. For this purpose, she mounted on 
 the horse-block, with flask and glass in hand; so that it was easy 
 for the departing guest, although on horseback, to return the 
 courtesy in the most approved manner, namely, by throwing his 
 arm over his landlady's shoulder, and saluting her at parting. 
 
 Dame Whitecraft could not decline this familiarity ; for there is 
 no room for traversing upon a horse-block, and the hands which 
 might have served her for resistance, were occupied with glass and 
 bottle — matters too precious to be thrown away in such a struggle. 
 Apparently, however, she had something else in her head; for as 
 after a brief affectation of reluctance, she permitted Peveril's face 
 to approach hers, she whispered in his ear, " Beware of trepans!" 
 — an awful intimation, which, in those days of distrust, suspicion, 
 and treachery, was as effectual in interdicting free and social inter- 
 course, as the advertisement of " man-traps and spring-guns/' to 
 protect an orchard. Pressing her hand in intimation that he com- 
 prehended her hint, she shook his warmly in return, and bade God 
 speed him. There was a cloud on John Whitecraft's brow; nor 
 did his final farewell sound half so cordial as that which had been 
 spoken within doors. But then Peveril reflected, that the same 
 guest is not always equally acceptable to landlord and landlady ; 
 and unconscious of having done any thing to excite the miller's 
 displeasure, he pursued his journey without thinking farther of the 
 matter. 
 
 Julian was a little surprised, and not altogether pleased, to find 
 that his new acquaintance held the same road with him. He had 
 many reasons for wishing to travel alone ; and the hostess's caution 
 still rung in his ears. If this man, possessed of so much shrewdness 
 as his countenance and conversation intimated, versatile, as he had 
 occasion to remark, and disguised beneath his condition, should 
 prove, as was likely, to be a concealed Jesuit or seminary-priest, 
 travelling upon their great task of the conversion of England, and. 
 
 / 
 
246 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 rooting out of the Northern heresy, — a more dangerous companion, 
 for a person in his own circumstances, could hardly be imagined ; 
 since keeping society with him might seem to authorize whatever 
 reports had been spread concerning the attachment of his family to 
 the Catholic cause. At the same time, it was very difficult, without 
 actual rudeness, to shake off the company of one who seemed deter- 
 mined, whether spoken to or not, to remain alongside of him. 
 
 Peveril tried the experiment of riding slow 5 but his companion, 
 determined not to drop him, slackened his pace, so as to keep 
 close by him. JuHan then spurred his horse to a full trot 5 and was 
 soon satisfied, that the stranger, notwithstanding the meanness of 
 his appearance, was so much belter mounted than himself, as to 
 render vain any thoughts of out-riding him. He pulled up his 
 horse to a more reasonable pace, therefore, in a sort of despair. 
 Upon his doing so, his companion, who had been hitherto silent, 
 observed, that Peveril was not so well qualified to try speed upon 
 the road, as he would have been had he abode by his first bargaiti 
 of horse-flesh that morning. 
 
 Peveril assented dryly, but observed, that the animal would serve 
 his immediate purpose, though he feared it would render him in- 
 different company for a person better mounted. 
 
 '' By no means," answered his civil companion ^ '' I am one of 
 those who have travelled so much, as to be accustomed to make 
 my journey at any rale of motion which may be most agreeable to 
 my company." 
 
 Peveril made no reply to this polite intimation, being loo sincere 
 to tender the thanks which, in courtesy, were the proper answer. 
 — A second pause ensued_, which was broken by Julian asking the 
 stranger whether their roads were likely to lie long together in the 
 same direction. 
 
 "I cannot tell," said the stranger, smiUng, "unless I knew 
 which way you were travelling." 
 
 " I am uncertain how far I shall go to-night," said Julian wil- 
 lingly misunderstanding the purport of the reply. 
 
 " And so am I," replied the slranger; " but though my horse 
 goes belter than yours, I think it will be wise to spare him ^ and in 
 case our road continues to lie the same way, we are likely to sup, 
 as we have dined together." 
 
 Julian made no answer whatever to his round inlimalion, but 
 continued to ride on, turning, in his own mind-, whether it would 
 not be wisest to come lo a distinct understanding with his pertina- 
 cious attendant, and to explain, in so many words, that it was his 
 pleasure to travel alone. But, besides that the sort of acquaintance 
 which they had formed during dinner, rendered him unwilling lo 
 be directly uncivil towards a person of gentlemanlike manners, he 
 had also lo consider that he might very possibly be mistaken in 
 
f 
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 247 
 
 this man's character and purpose; in which case, Ihe cynically re- 
 fusing the society of a sound Protestant, would afford as pregnant 
 matter of suspicion, as travelling in company with a disguised 
 Jesuit. 
 
 After brief reflection, therefore, he resolved to endure the en- 
 cumbrance of the stranger's society, until a fair opportunity should 
 occur to rid himself of it; and, in the meantime, to act with as 
 much caution as he possibly could, in any communication that 
 might take place between them ; for Dame Whitecraft's parting 
 caution still rang anxiously in his ears, and the consequences of 
 his own arrest upon suspicion, must deprive him of every oppor- 
 tunity of serving his fattier, or the Countess, or Major Bridgenorth, 
 upon whose interest, also, he haci promised himself to keep an eye. 
 
 While he revolved these things in his mind, they had journeyed 
 several miles without speaking; and now entered upon a more 
 waste country, and worse roads, than they had hilherlo found, 
 being, in fact, approaching the more hilly district of Derbyshire. 
 In travelling on a very stony and uneven lane, Julian's horse re- 
 peatedly stumbled ; and, had he not been supported by the rider's 
 judicious use of the bridle, must at length certainly have fallen 
 under him. 
 
 " These are times which crave wary riding, sir," said his com- 
 panion ; " and by your seat in the saddle, and your hand on the 
 rein, you seem to understand it to be so." 
 
 *' I have been long a horseman, sir," answered Peveril. 
 
 '' And long a traveller, too, sir, I should Suppose ; since, by the 
 great caution you observe, you seem (o think Ihe human tongue 
 requires a curb, as well as the horse's jaws." 
 
 '' Wiser men than I have been of opinion," answered Peveril, 
 " that it were a part of prudence to be silent, when men have little 
 or nothing to say." 
 
 ''I cannot approve of their opinion," answered the stranger. 
 " All knowledge is gained by communication, either with the 
 dead, through books, or, more pleasingly, through the conversa- 
 tion of the living. The deaf and dumb, alone, are excluded from 
 improvement ; and surely their situation is not so enviable that we 
 should imitate them." 
 
 At this illustration, which wakened a starthng echo in Peveril's 
 bosom, the young man looked hard at his companion ; but in the 
 composed countenance, and calm blue eye, he read no conscious- 
 ness of a farther meaning than the words immediately and directly 
 implied. He paused a moment, and then answered, " You seem 
 to be a person, sir, of shrewd apprehension; and I should have 
 thought it might have occurred to you, that, in the present suspi- 
 cious times, men may, without censure, avoid communication 
 with strangers. You know not me ; and to me you are totally un- 
 
248 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 known. There is not room for much discourse between us, with- 
 onl trespassing on the general topics of the day, which carry in 
 them seeds of quarrel between friends, much more betwixt stran- 
 gers. At any other lime, the society of an intelligent companion 
 would have been most acceptable upon my solitary ride*, but at 
 present" 
 
 "'At present!" said the other, interrupting him. " You are 
 like the old Romans, who held that hostis meant both a stranger 
 and an enemy. I will therefore be no longer a stranger. My name 
 is Ganlesse— by profession I am a Roman Catholic priest — I am 
 travelling here in dread of my life — and I am very glad to have you 
 for a companion." 
 
 '' I thank you for the information with all my heart," said Pe- 
 veril; *'and to avail myself of it to Ihe uttermost, I must beg of 
 you to ride forward, or lag behind, or take a side-path, at your 
 own-pleasure; for as I am no Catholic, and travel upon business 
 of high concernment, I am exposed both to risk and delay, and even 
 to danger, by keeping such suspicious company. And so, Master 
 Ganlesse, keep your own pace, and I will keep the contrary ^ for I 
 beg leave to forbear your company." 
 
 As Peveril spake thus, he pulled up his horse, and made a full 
 stop. 
 
 The stranger burst out a-laughing. "What!" he said, ''you 
 forbear my company for a trifle of danger ? Saint Anthony ! How 
 the warm blood of the Cavaliers is chilled in the young men of the 
 present day ! This young gallant, now, has a father, I warrant, 
 who has endured as many adventures for hunted priests, as a knight- 
 errant for distressed damsels." 
 
 " This raillery avails nothing, sir," said Peveril. " I must re- 
 quest you will keep your own way." 
 
 *' My way is yours,'* said the pertinacious Master Ganlesse, as he 
 called himself J "and we will both travel the safer, that we jour- 
 ney in company. I have the receipt of fern-seed, man, and walk 
 invisible. Besides, you would not have me quit you in this lane, 
 where there is no turn to right or left? " 
 
 Peveril moved on, desirous to avoid open violence 5 for which the 
 indifferent tone of the traveller, indeed, afforded no apt pretext; 
 yet highly disliking his company, and determined to take the first 
 opportunity to rid himself of it. 
 
 The stranger proceeded at the same pace with him, keeping cau- 
 tiously on his bridle hand, as \$ to secure that advantage in case of 
 a struggle. But his language did not intimate the least apprehension. 
 " You do me wrong," he said to Peveril, " and you equally wrong 
 yourself. You are uncertain where to lodge to-night — Irusl to my 
 guidance. Here is an ancient hall, within four miles, with an old 
 knightly Pantaloon for its lord— an all-beruffed Dame Barbara for 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 249 
 
 the lady gay — a Jesuit in a butler's habit, to say grace — an old tale 
 of Edgehili and Worster fights to relish a cold venison pasty, and a 
 flask of claret mantled with cobwebs — a bed for you in the priest's 
 hiding-hole — and, for aught I know, pretty Mistress Betty, the 
 dairymaid, to make it ready.'' 
 
 " This has no charms for me, sir," said Peveril, who, in spite 
 of himself, could not but be amused with the ready sketch which 
 the stranger gave of many an old mansion in Cheshire and Derby- 
 shire, where the owners relained the ancient faith of Rome. 
 
 '• Well, I see I cannot charm you in this way," continued his 
 companion^ "I must strike another key. I am no longer Gan- 
 lesse, the seminary priest, but (changing his tone, and snuffling in 
 the nose) Simon Canter, a poor preacher of the word, who travels 
 this way to call sinners to repentance ^ and to strengthen, and to 
 edify, and to fructify, among the scattered remnant who hold fast 
 the truth. —What say you to this, sir?" 
 
 " I admire your versalihty, sir, and could be entertained with it 
 at another time. At present, sincerity is more in request." 
 
 " Sincerity !" said the stranger; — "A child's whistle, with but 
 two notes in it — yea, yea, and nay, nay. Why, man, the very 
 Quakers have renounced it, and have got in its slead a gallant 
 recorder, called Hypocrisy, that is somewhat like Sincerity in form, 
 but of much greater compass, and combines the whole gamut. 
 Come, be ruled — be a disciple of Simon Canter for the evening, 
 and we will leave the old tumble-down castle of the knight afore- 
 said, on the left hand, for a new brick-built mansion, erected by an 
 eminent salt-boiler from Namptwich, who expects the said Simon 
 to make a strong spiritual pickle for the preservation of a soul 
 somewhat corrupted by the evil communications of this wicked 
 world. What say you? He has two daughters — brighter eyes 
 never beamed under a pinched hood ; and for myself, I think there 
 is more fire in those who live only to love and to devotion, than 
 in your court beauties, whose hearts are running on twenty follies 
 besides. You know not the pleasure of being conscience-keeper to 
 a pretty precisian, who in one breath repeals her foibles, and in 
 the next confesses her passion. Perhaps, though, you may have 
 known such in your day ? Come, sir, it grows too dark to see your 
 blushes 5 but I am sure they are burning on your cheek." 
 
 " You take great freedom, sir," said Peveril, as they now ap- 
 proached the end of the lane, where it opened on a broad common ; 
 '^ and you seem rather to count more on my forbearance, than 
 you have room to do with safety. We are now nearly free of the 
 lane which has made us companions for this last half hour. To 
 avoid your farther company, I will take the turn to the left, upon 
 that common ; and if you follow me, it shall be at your peril. Ob- 
 serve, I am well armed j and you will fight at odds." 
 
250 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 *' Not at odds," returned the provoking stranger, *' while I have 
 my brown jennet, with which I can ride round and around you at 
 pleasure; and this text, of a handful in length" (showing a pistol 
 which he drew from his bosom), '^ which discharges very convin- 
 cing doctrine on the pressure of a forefinger, and is apt to equalize 
 all odds, as you call them, of youth and strength. Let there be no 
 strife between us. however — the moor lies before us — choose your 
 path on it — I take the other." 
 
 " I wish you good-night, sir," said Peveril to the stranger. ^' I 
 ask your forgiveness, if I have misconstrued you in any thing ; but 
 the times are perilous, and a man's life may depend on the society 
 in which he travels." 
 
 ** True," said the stranger-, "but in your case, the danger is 
 already undergone, and you should seek to counteract it. You have 
 travelled in my company long enough to devise a handsome branch 
 of the Popish Plot. How will you look, when you see come forth, 
 in comely folio form. The Narrative of Simon Canter, otherwise 
 called Richard Ganlesse, concerning the horrid Popish Conspiracy 
 for the Murder of the King, and massacre of all Protestants, as 
 giyen on oath to the Honourable House of Commons ; setting forth, 
 how far Julian Peveril, younger, of Martindale Castle, is concerned 
 in carrying on the same ' " 
 
 ''How, sir? What mean you?" said Peveril, much startled. 
 
 " Nay, sir," replied his companion, " do not interrupt my title- 
 page. Now that Gates and Bedloe have drawn the great prizes, 
 the subordinate discoverers get little but by the sale of their Nar- 
 rative-, and Janeway, Newman, Simmons, and every bookseller of 
 them, will tell you that the title is half the narrative. Mine shall 
 therefore set forth the various schemes you have communicated to 
 me, of landing ten thousand soldiers from the Isle of Man upon 
 the coast of Lancashire, and marching into Wales, to join the ten 
 thousand pilgrims who are to be shipped from Spain -, and so com- 
 pleting the destruction of the Protestant religion, and of the de- 
 voted city of London. Truly, I think such a Narrative, well spiced 
 with a few horrors, and published cum prwilegio Parllamenti, 
 might, though the market be somewhat overstocked, be still worth 
 some twenty or thirty pieces." 
 
 '' You seem to know me, sir," said Peveril -, " and if so, I think 
 1 may fairly ask you your purpose in thus bearing me company, 
 and the meaning of all tliis rhapsody. If it be mere banter, I can 
 endure it within proper limit; although it is uncivil on the part of 
 a stranger. If you have any farther purpose, speak it out; I am 
 not to be trifled with." 
 
 " Good, rtow," said the stranger, laughing, "• into what an un- 
 
 ' Note I., p. 253. Narratives of the Plot. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 251 
 
 profitable chafe you have put yourself I An Italian /worMJCi to, 
 when he desires a parley with you, lakes aim from behind a wall, 
 with his long gun, and prefaces his conference with Posso tirare. 
 So does your man-of-war fire a gun across the bows of a Hans- 
 mogan Tndiaman, just to bring her to 5 and so do I show Master 
 Julian Peveril, that if 1 were one of the honourable society of wit- 
 nesses and informers, with whom his imagination has associated 
 me for these two hours past, he is as much without my danger now, 
 as what he is ever likely to be." Then suddenly changing his tone 
 to serious, which was in general ironical, he added, " Young man, 
 when the pestilence is diffused through the air of a city, it is in vain 
 men would avoid the disease, by seeking solitude, and shunning the 
 company of their fellow-sufferers." 
 
 '' In what, then, consists their safety ?" said Peveril, wilHng to as- 
 certain, if possible, the drift of his companion's purpose. 
 
 " In following the counsels of wise physicians;" such was the 
 stranger's answer. 
 
 " And as such," said Peveril, " you offer me your advice?" 
 
 " Pardon me, young man," said the stranger, haughtily, " I see 
 no reason I should do so. — I am not," he added, in his former 
 tone, '' your fee'd physician — I offer no advice — I only say it would 
 be wise thai you sought it." 
 
 " And from whom, or where can I obtain it? " said Peveril. ^' I 
 wander in this country, like one in a dream ; so much a few monlhs 
 have changed it. Men who formerly occupied themselves with their 
 own affairs, are now swallowed up in matters of state policy ^ and 
 those Iremble under the apprehension of some strange and sudden 
 convulsion of empire, who were formerly only occupied by the fear 
 of going to bed supperless. And to sum up the matter, I meet a 
 stranger, apparently well acquainted with my name and concerns, 
 who first attaches himself to me whether I will or no ^ and then re- 
 fuses me an explanation of his business, while he menaces me with 
 the strangest accusations." 
 
 " Had I meant such infamy," said [he stranger, " believe me, I 
 had not given you the thread of my intrigue. But be wise, and come 
 on with me. There is hard by, a small inn, where, if you can lake 
 a stranger's warrant for it, we shall sleep in perfect security." 
 
 "Yet you yourself," said Peveril, ''but now were anxious to 
 avoid observation 5 and in that case, how can you protect me?" 
 
 " Pshaw 1 1 did but silence that tattling landlady, in the way in 
 which such people are most readily hushed; and for Topham, and 
 his brace of night owls, they must hawk at other and lesser game 
 than I should prove." 
 
 Peveril could not help admiring the easy and confident indiffe- 
 rence with which the slranger seemed to assume a superiority to all 
 Ihe circumstances of danger around him ; and after hastily consider- 
 
252 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 ing the mailer wilh himself, came lo Ihe resolution to keep com- 
 pany with him for this night, al least ^ and to learn, if possible who 
 he really was, and to what party in the slate he was attached. The 
 boldness and freedom of his talk seemed almost inconsistent with 
 his following the perilous, though at that time the gainful, trade of 
 an informer. No doubt, such persons assumed every appearance 
 which could insinuate them into the confidence of their destined 
 "Victims ^ but Julian thought he discovered in this man's manner, a 
 wild and reckless frankness, which he could not but connect with 
 the idea of sincerity in the present case. He therefore answered, 
 after a moment's recollection, " I embrace your proposal, sir; al- 
 though, by doing so, I am reposing a sudden, and perhaps an un- 
 wary, confidence." 
 
 " And what am I, then, reposing in you?" said the stranger. 
 " Is not our confidence mutual?" 
 
 " No^ much the contrary. I know nothing of you whatever — 
 you have named me; and, knowing me to be Julian Peveril, know 
 you may travel with me in perfect security." 
 
 " The devil I do ! " answered his companion. " I travel in the 
 same security as with a lighted petard, which I may expect to ex- 
 plode every moment. Are you not the son of Peveril of Ihe Peak, 
 with whose name Prelacy and Popery are so closely alUed, thai no 
 old woman of either sex in Derbyshire concludes her prayer without 
 a petition to be freed from all three? And do you not come from 
 the Popish Countess of Derby, bringing, for aught I know, a whole 
 army of Manxmen in your pocket, with full complement of arms, 
 ammunition, baggage, and a train of field artillery?" 
 
 " It is not very likely I should be so poorly mounted," said Ju- 
 lian, laughing, " if I had such a weight to carry. But lead on, sir. 
 I see I must wait for your confidence, till you think proper to 
 confer it-, for you are already so well acquainted wilh my affairs, 
 that I have nothing to offer you in exchange for it.*^' 
 
 " Allans, then," said his companion •, '' give your horse the spur, 
 and raise the curb rein, lest he measure the ground with his nose, 
 instead of his paces. We are not now more than a furlong or two 
 from the place of entertainment.". 
 
 They mended their pace accordingly, and soon arrived at Ihe 
 small solitary inn which the traveller had mentioned. When its 
 light began lo twinkle before them, the stranger, as if recollecting 
 something he had forgotten, " By the way, you must have a name 
 lo pass by •, for it may be ill travelling under your own, as Ihe fellow 
 who keeps this house is an old Cromwellian. What will you call 
 yourself? — My name is —for the present — Ganlesse." 
 
 '' There is no occasion lo assume a name at all," answered Julian. 
 '' I do not incline to use a borrowed one, especially as 1 may meet 
 with someone who knows my own." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 253 
 
 '^ I will call you Julian, Ihen," said Master Ganlesse; ** for Pe- 
 veril will smell, in llic nostrils of mine host, of idolatry, conspiracy, 
 Smithfield fagots, fish on Fridays, the murder of Sir Edmondsbury 
 Godfrey, and the fire of purgatory." 
 
 As he spoke thus, they alighted und^r the great broad-branched 
 oak-tree, that served to canopy the ale bench, which, at an earlier 
 hour, had groaned under the weight of a frequent conclave of rustic 
 politicians. Ganlesse, as he dismounted, whistled in a particularly 
 shrill note, and was answered from within the house ' . 
 
 NOTES TO CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Note I., p. 250.— Narratives of the Plot. 
 
 There is no more odious feature of this detestable plot than that the forsworn witnesses 
 by whose oaths the fraud was supported, claimed a sort of literary interest in their own 
 fabrications, by publications under such titles as the following .- " A narrative and im- 
 partial discovery of the horrid Popish Plot, carried on for burning and destroying the 
 cities of London and Westminster, with their suburbs, setting forth the several councils, 
 orders, and resolutions of the Jesuits concerning the same, by (a person so and so named), 
 lately engaged in that horrid design, and one of the Popish committee for carrying on 
 such fires." 
 
 At any other period, it would have appeared equally unjust and illegal to poison the 
 public mind with stuff of this kind, before the witnesses liad made their depositions in open 
 court. But in this moment of frenzy, every thing which could confirm the existence of 
 these senseless delusions, was eagerly listened to ; and whatever seemed to infer doubt of 
 the witnesses, or hesitation concerning the existence of the plot, wasa stifling, strangling, 
 or undervaluing the discovery of the grand conspiracy. In short, as expressed by Dryden, 
 
 " 'Twas worse than plotting, to suspect the plot." 
 
 Note II., p. 253.— Richard Ganlesse. 
 
 It will be afterwards found, that in the supposed Richard Ganlesse, is first introduced 
 into the story the detestable Edward Christian, a character with as few redeeming good 
 qualities as the author's too prolific pencil has ever attempted to draw. He is a mere 
 creature of the imagination ; and although he may receive some dignity of character from 
 his talents, energy, and influence over others, he is, in other respects, a moral monster, 
 since even his affection for his brother, and resentment of his death, are grounded on vin- 
 dictive feelings, which scruple at no means, even the foulest, for their gratification. The 
 author will be readily believed when he affirms, that no original of the present times, or 
 those which preceded them, has given the outline for a character so odious. The perso- 
 nage is a mere fancy piece. In particular, the author disclaims all allusion to a gentleman 
 named Edward Christian, who actually existed during those troublesome times, was 
 brother of William Christian, the Dempster, and died in prison in the Isle of Man. With 
 this unfortunate gentleman the character in the novel has not the slightest connexion, nor 
 do the incidents of their lives in any respect agree. There existed, as already stated, an 
 Edward Christian of the period, who was capable of very bad things, since he was a com- 
 panion and associate of the robber Thomas Blood, and convicted along with him of a 
 conspiracy against the celebrated Duke of Buckingham. This character was probably not 
 unlike that of his namesake in the novel, at least the feats ascribed to him are haud aliena 
 a Scosvolce studiis. But Mr. Christian of Unwin, if there existed a rogue of his name 
 during that period of general corruption, has the more right to have him distinguished 
 from bis unfortunate relative, who died in prison before the period mentioned. 
 
 * Richard Ganlesse. See Note n. 
 
254 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 He was a fellow in a peasant's garb ; 
 
 Yet one could censure you a woodcock's carving, 
 
 Like any courtier at the ordinary. 
 
 The Ordinary. 
 
 The person who appeared at the door of the litlle inn lo receive 
 Ganlesse, as we mentioned in our last chapter, sung as he came 
 forward, this scrap of an old ballad, — 
 
 '* Good even to you, Diccon ; 
 And how have you sped? 
 Bring you the bonny bride 
 To banquet and bed ? " 
 
 To which Ganlesse answered, in the same lone and tune, — 
 
 " Content thee, kind Robin ; "^ 
 
 He need little care, 
 Who brings home a fat buck 
 Instead of a hare." 
 
 "You have missed your blow, then?" said the other, in reply. 
 
 *'t tell you I have not," answered Ganlesse; "but you will 
 think of nought but your own thriving occupation— May the plague 
 that belongs to it stick to it! though it hath been the making of 
 thee." 
 
 " A man must live, Diccon Ganlesse," said the other. 
 
 "Well, well," said Ganlesse, "bid my friend welcome, for my 
 sake. Hast thou got any supper?" 
 
 "Reeking like a sacrifice — Chaubert has done his best. That 
 fellow is a treasure ! give him a farthing candle, and he will cook a 
 good supper out of it.— Come in, sir. My friend's friend is welcome, 
 as we say in my country." 
 
 "We must have our horses looked lo first," said Peveril, who 
 began to be considerably uncertain about the character of his com- 
 panions — " that done, I am for you." 
 
 Ganlesse gave a second whistle ; a groom appeared, who took 
 charge of both their horses, and they themselves entered the inn. 
 
 The ordinary room of a poor inn seemed lo have undergone some 
 alterations, lo render it fit for company of a higher description. 
 There were a beaufet, a couch, and one or two other pieces of 
 furniture, of a style inconsistent with the appearance of Ihe place. 
 The tablecloth, which was ready laid, was of the finest damask; and 
 the spoons, forks, etc., were of silver. Peveril looked at this ap- 
 paratus with some surprise ; and again turning his eyes attentively 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ' 255 
 
 upon his (ravelling companion Ganlesse, he could nol help discover- 
 ing (by the aid of imagination, perhaps), that though insignificant 
 in person, plain in features, and dressed like one in indigence, there 
 lurked still about his person and manners, that indefinable ease of 
 manner which belongs only to men of birth and quality, or to those 
 who are in the constant habit of frequftiting the best company. 
 His companion, whom he called Will Smith, although tall, and 
 rather good-looking, besides being much better dressed, had not, 
 nevertheless, exactly the same case of demeanour ; and was obliged 
 to make up for the want, by an additional proportion of assurance. 
 Who these two persons could be, Peveril could not attempt even to 
 form a guess. There was nothing for it, but to watch their manner 
 and conversation. 
 
 After speaking a moment in whispers. Smith said to his com- 
 panion, "We must go look after our nags for ten minutes, and allow 
 Chaubert to do his office." 
 
 "Will he not appear, and minister before us, then?" said Gan- 
 lesse. 
 
 "What! he? — he shift a trencher — he hand a cup?— No, you 
 forget whom you speak of. Such an order were enough to make 
 him fall on his own sword — he is already on the borders of despair, 
 because no craw-fish are to be had." 
 
 " Alack-a-day I" replied Ganlesse. " Heaven forbid 1 ^ihould add 
 to such a calamity! To stable, then, and see we how our steeds eat 
 their provender, while ours is getting ready." 
 
 They adjourned to the stable accordingly, which, though a poor 
 one, had been hastily supplied with whatever was necessary for the 
 accommodation of four excellent horses 5 one of which, that from 
 which Ganlesse was just dismounted, the groom we have mentioned 
 was cleaning and dressing by the light of a huge wax-candle. 
 
 " I am still so far Catholic," said Ganlesse, laughing, as he saw 
 that Peveril noticed this piece of extravagance. "My horse is my 
 saint, and I dedicate a candle to him." 
 
 *' Without asking so great a favour for mine, which I see standing 
 behind yonder old hen-coop," replied Peveril, "I will at least relieve 
 him of his saddle and bridle." 
 
 "Leave him to the lad of the inn," said Smith ^ " he is not worthy 
 any other person's handling ^ and I promise you, if you slip a single 
 buckle, you will so flavour of that stable duly, that you might as 
 well eat roast-beef as ragouts, for any relish you will have of them." 
 
 " I love roast-beef as well as ragouts, at any time," said Peveril, 
 adjusting himself to a task which every young man should know 
 how to perform when need is ; and my horse, though it be but a 
 sorry jade, will champ better on hay and corn, than on an iron bit." 
 
 While he was unsaddling his horse, and shaking down some 
 fitter for the poor wearied animal, he heard Smith observe to Gan- 
 
266 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 lesse, — *'By my faith, Dick, thou hast fallen into poor Slender's 
 blunder*, missed Anne Page, and brought us a great lubberly post- 
 master's boy." 
 
 "Hush! he will hear thee," answered Ganlesse; "there are 
 reasons for all things — it is well as it is. But prilhee, tell thy fellow 
 to help the youngster." 
 
 "What!" replied Smith, "d'ye think I am mad?— Ask Tom 
 Beacon— Tom of Newmarket— Tom of ten thousand, to touch such 
 a four-legged brute as that? — Why, he would turn me away on the 
 spot — discard me, i'faith. It was all he would do to take in hand your 
 own, my good friend ; and if you consider him not the better, you 
 are like to stand groom to him yourself to-morrow." 
 
 " Well, Will," answered Ganlesse, " I will say that for thee, thou 
 hast a set of the most useless, scoundrelly, insolent vermin about 
 thee, that ever eat up a poor gentleman's revenues." 
 
 " Useless? I deny it," replied Smith. "Every one of my fellows 
 does something or other so exquisitely, that it were sin to make him 
 do any thing else — ^it is your jacks-of-all-trades who are masters of 
 none.-rBut hark to Chaubert's signal ! The coxcomb is twangling 
 it on the lute, to the iune of Ei^eillez-s^ousy belle endormie,' — Come, 
 Master What d'ye call [addressing Peveril], — get ye some water, 
 and wash this filthy witness from your hand, as Belterton says in the 
 play ^ for Chaubert's cookery is hke Friar Bacon's head — time is — 
 time was— time will soon be no more." 
 
 So saying, and scarce allowing JuHan time to dip his hands in a 
 bucket, and dry them on a horse cloth, he hurried him from the 
 stable back to the supper-chamber. 
 
 Here all was prepared for their meal, with an epicurean delicacy, 
 which rather belonged to the saloon of a palace, than the cabin in 
 which it was displayed. Four dishes of silver, with covers of the 
 same metal, smoked on the table \ and three seats were placed for 
 the company. Beside the lower end of the board, was a small side- 
 table, to answer the purpose of what is now called a dumb waiter,- 
 on which several flasks reared their tall, stately, and swanhke crests, 
 above glasses and rummers. Clean covers were also placed within 
 reach ^ and a small travelling-case of morocco, hooped with silver, 
 displayed a number of bottles, containing the most approved sauces 
 that culinary ingenuity had then invented. 
 
 Smith, who occupied the lower seat, and seemed to act as pre- 
 sident of (he feast, motioned the two travellers to take their places 
 and begin. " I would not stay a grace-time," he said, " to save a 
 whole nation from perdition. We could bring no chauffeltes with 
 any convenience ^ and even Chaubert is nothing, unless his dishes 
 are tasted in the very moment of projection. Come, uncover, and let 
 us see what he has done for us. — Hum ! — ha !— ay— squab-pigeons 
 — wildfowl— young chickens — venison cutlets— and a space in the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 257 
 
 centre, wet, alas ! by a gentle tear from Chauberl's eye, where should 
 have been the soupe aux ecres^isses. The zeal of that poor fellow 
 is ill repaid by his paltry ten louis per month." 
 
 "A mere trifle," said Ganlesse; "but, like yourself, Will, he 
 serves a generous master." 
 
 The repast now commenced ; and Julian, Ihough he had seen his 
 young friend the Earl of Derby, and other gallants, afTect a con- 
 siderable degree of interest and skill in the science of the kitchen, 
 and was not himself either an enemy or a stranger to the pleasures 
 of a good table, found, that, on the present occasion, he was a mere 
 novice. Both his companions, but Smith in especial, seemed to 
 consider that they were now engaged in the only true and real 
 business of life ^ and weighed all its minutiae with a proportional 
 degree of accuracy . To carve the morsel in the most delicate manner 
 — and to apportion the proper seasoning with the accuracy of tlie 
 chemist, — to be aware, exactly, of the order in which one dish 
 should succeed another, and to do plentiful justice to all — was a 
 minuteness of science to which Julian had hitherto been a stranger. 
 Smith accordingly treated him as a mere novice in epicurism, 
 cautioning him to eat his soup before the bouiili, and to forget the 
 Manx custom of boiling the boiled meat before the broth, as if 
 Cullar MacCulloch ' and all his whingers were at the door. Peveril 
 look the hint in good part, and the entertainment proceeded with 
 animation. 
 
 At length Ganlesse paused, and declared the supper exquisite. 
 "But, my friend Smith," he added, "are your wines curious? 
 When you brought all that trash of plates and trumpery into Der- 
 byshire, I hope you did not leave us at the mercy of the strong ale 
 of the shire, as thick and muddy as the squires who drink it?" 
 
 "Did I not know that/ou were to meet me, Dick Ganlesse?" 
 answered their host. "And can you suspect me of such an omission? 
 It is true, you must make champagne and claret serve, for my 
 burgundy would not bear travelling. But if you have a fancy for 
 sherry, or Vin de Cahors, I have a notion Chauberl and Tom 
 Beacon have brought some for their own drinking." 
 
 "Perhaps the gentlemen would not care to impart,'* said Gan- 
 lesse. 
 
 " Ofie I — any thing in the way of civility,?' replied Smith. "They 
 are, in truth, the best-natured lads alive, when treated respectfully ^ 
 so that if you would prefer" 
 
 " By no means," said Ganlesse — " a glass of champagne will serve 
 in a scarcity of better," 
 
 ♦' The cork shall start obsequious to my thumb," 
 
 said Smith \ and as he spoke, he untwisted the wire, and the cork 
 
 « Note I., p. 261. Cutlar MacCulloch. 
 
 17 
 
258 PEVERIL OF THE PEA.K. 
 
 Struck the roof of Ihe cabin. Each guest took a large rummer glass 
 of the sparkling beverage, which Peveril had judgment and ex- 
 perience enough lo pronounce exquisite. 
 
 *' Give me your hand, sir," said Smith; " it is the first word of 
 sense you have spoken this evening." 
 
 "Wisdom, sir," replied Peveril, '' is like the best ware in the 
 pedlar's pack, which he never produces till he knows his customer." 
 " Sharp as mustard," returned the bon a}want\ "but be wise, 
 most noble pedlar, and take another rummer of this same flask, 
 which you see 1 have held in an oblique position for you service — 
 not permitting il to retrograde to the perpendicular. Nay, take it 
 off before the bubble burst on the rim, and the zest is gone." 
 
 " You do me honour, sir," said Peveril, taking the second glass. 
 " I wish you a better otTice than that of riiy cupbearer." 
 
 " You cannot wish Will Smith one more congenial to his nature," 
 said Ganlesse. " Others have a selfish delight in the objects of sense. 
 Will thrives, and is happy, by imparting them to his friends." 
 
 " Better help men to pleasures than to pains, Master Ganlesse," 
 answered Smith, somewhat angrily. 
 
 "Nay, wrath thee not. Will," said Ganlesse; "and speak no 
 words in haste, lest you may have cause to repent at leisure. Do 
 1 blame thy social concern for the pleasures of others? Why, 
 man, thou dost therein most philosophically multiply thine own. 
 A man has but one throat, and can but eat, with his best efforts, 
 some five or six times a-day ; but thou dinest with every friend that 
 cuts up a capon, and art quaffing wine in other men's gullets, from 
 morning to night— ei sic de cceteris.'' 
 
 " Friend Ganlesse," returned Smith, " I prithee beware — thou 
 knowest I can cut gullets as well as tickle them." 
 
 "Ay, Will," answered Ganlesse, carelessly ; " I think I have seen 
 thee wave thy whinyard at the throat of a Hogan-mogan — a Nether- 
 landish weasand, which expanded only on thy natural and mortal 
 objects of aversion — Dutch cheese, ryebread, pickled herring, 
 onions, and Geneva." 
 
 " For pity's sake, forbear the description ! " said Smith, "thy 
 words overpower the perfumes, and flavour the apartment like a 
 dish of salmagundi ! " 
 
 " But for an epiglottis like mine," continued Ganlesse, " down 
 which the most delicate morsels are washed by such claret as thou 
 art now pouring out, thou couldst not, in thy bitterest mood, wish 
 a worse fate than to be nccklaced somewhat light by a pair of white 
 arms." 
 
 " By a ten-penny cord," answered Smith ; " but not till you were 
 dead; thai thereafter you be presently embowelled, you being yet 
 alive; that your head be then severed from your body, and your 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 259 
 
 body divided into quarters, to be disposed of at his Majesty's plea- 
 sure. — How like you that, Master Richard Ganlesse?" 
 
 ''E'en as you like the thoughts of dining on bran-bread and 
 milk-porridge — an extremity which you trust never to be reduced 
 to. But all this shall not prevent me from pledging you in a cup 
 of sound claret." 
 
 As the claret circulated, the glee of the company increased ; and 
 Smith, placing the dishes which had been made use of upon the 
 side-stable, stamped with his foot on the floor, and the table sink- 
 ing down a trap, again rose, loaded with olives, sliced neat's tongue, 
 caviare, and other provocatives for the circulation of the bottle. 
 
 "Why, Will," said Ganlesse, " Ihou art a more complete me- 
 chanist than I suspected 5 thou hast brought thy scene-shifting 
 inventions to Derbyshire in marvellously short lime." 
 
 "A rope and puUies can be easily come by," answered Will; 
 " and with a saw and a plane. I can manage Ihat business in half 
 a day. I love that knack of clean and secret conveyance — thou 
 knowest it was tlie foundation of my fortunes." 
 
 " It may be the wreck of them too, Will," replied his friend. 
 
 "True, Diccon," answered Will-, "but dum vwimus, vii^a- 
 mus, — that is my motto ; and therewith I present you a brimmer 
 to the health of the fair lady you wot of." 
 
 " Let it come. Will," replied his friend^ and the flask circu- 
 lated briskly from hand to hand. 
 
 Julian did not think it prudent loseem a check on their festivity, 
 as he hoped in ils progress something might occur to enable him 
 to judge of the character and purposes of his companions. But he 
 walched them in vain. Their conversation was animated and lively, 
 and often bore reference to the literature of the period, in which 
 the elder seemed particularly well skilled. They also talked freely 
 of the Court, and of that numerous class of gallants who were then 
 described as " men of wit and pleasure about town ; " and to 
 which it seemed probable they themselves appertained. 
 
 At length the universal topic of the Popish Plot was started ; upon 
 which Ganlesse and Smith seemed to entertain the most opposite 
 opinions. Ganlesse, if he did not maintain the authority of Gates in 
 its utmostextent, contended that at least it was confirmed in a great 
 measure by the murder of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, and the letters 
 written by Coleman to the confessor of the French King ' . 
 
 With much more noise, and less power of reasoning. Will Smith 
 hesitated not to ridicule and run down the whole discovery, as 
 one of the wildest and most causeless alarms which had ever been 
 sounded in the ears of a credulous public. " I shall never forget," 
 he said, "Sir Godfrey's most original funeral. Two bouncing 
 
 • Note II., p. 262. Correspondence of Coleman. 
 
260 PEVEIUL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 parsons, well armed with sword and pistol, mounted the pulpit, 
 to secure the third fellow who preached from being murdered in 
 the face of the congregation. Three parsons in one pulpit — three 
 suns in one hemisphere — no wonder men stood aghast at such a 
 prodigy *." 
 
 "What then, Will," answered his companion, '* you are one 
 of those who think the good knight murdered himself, in order to 
 give credit lo the Plot?'' 
 
 "By my faith, not I,'' said the other; "but some true blue 
 Protestant might do the job for him, in order to give the thing a 
 better colour. — I will be judged by our silent friend, whether that 
 be not the most feasible solution of the whole." 
 
 " I pray you, pardon me, gentlemen," said Julian; " I am but 
 just landed in England, and am a stranger to the particular cir- 
 cumstances which have thrown the nation into such ferment. It 
 would be the highest degree of assurance in me to give my opinion 
 betwixt gentlemen who argue the matter so ably; besides, to say 
 truth, I confess weariness — your wine is more potent than I ex- 
 pected, or I have drank more of it than I meant to do." 
 
 "Nay, if an hour's nap will refresh you," said the elder of the 
 strangers, "make no ceremony with us. Your bed — all we can 
 offer as such — is that old-fashioned Dutch-built sofa, as the last new 
 phrase calls it. We shall be early stirrers to-morrow morning." 
 
 " And that we may be so," said Smith, " I propose that we do 
 sit up all this night — I hate lying rough, and detest a pallet-bed. 
 So have at another flask, and the newest lampoon to help it out — 
 
 ' Now a plague of their voles 
 Upon Papists and Plots, 
 And be d — d Doctor Gates ! 
 
 Tol de rol.' " 
 
 " Nay, but our puritanic host," said Ganlesse. 
 
 " I have him in my pocket, man — his eyes, ears, nose, and 
 tongue, " answered his boon companion, " are all in my pos- 
 session." 
 
 " In that case, when you give him back his eyes and nose, I 
 pray you keep his ears and tongue," answered Ganlesse. " Seeing 
 and smelling are organs sufficient for such a knave — to hear and 
 IcU, are things he should have no manner of prt'tensions to." 
 
 "I grant you it were well done," answered Smith; "but it 
 were a robbing of the hangman and the pillory ; and I am an honest 
 fellow who would give Dun ^ and the devil his due. So, 
 
 « Note III., p. 262. Funeral Scene of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey. 
 
 » Dun was the hangman of the day at Tyburn. He was successor of Gregory Brunden, 
 who was by many believed to be the same who dropped the axe upon Charles 1., though 
 others were suspected of being the actual regicide. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 20 1 
 
 • All joy to great Caesar, 
 Long life, love, and pleasure ; 
 May the King live for ever l 
 
 'Tis no matter for us, boys.' " 
 
 While this Bacchanalian scene proceeded, Julian had wrapt him- 
 self closely in his cloak, and stretched himself on the couch which 
 they had shown to him. He looked towards the table he had left 
 — the tapers seemed to become hazy and dim as he gazed — he 
 heard the sound of voices, but they ceased to convey any impres- 
 sion to his understanding •, and in a few minutes, he was faster asleep 
 fhan he had ever been in the whole course of his life. 
 
 NOTES TO CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Note I., p. 257.— CuTLAR MacCdlloch. 
 
 This alludes to a singular custom of the inhabitants of the northern coast of the isle of 
 Man, who used of old to eat the sodden meat before they supped the broth, lest, it is said, 
 they should be deprived of the more substantial part of the meal, if they waited to eat it 
 at the second course. 
 
 They account for this anomaly in ihe following manner .—About the commencement 
 of the sixteenth century, the earl of Derby, being a fiery young chief, fond of war and 
 honour, made a furious inroad, with all his forces, into the Stewarlry of Kirkcudbright, 
 and committed great ravages still remembered in Manx song. Mr. Train, with his usual 
 kindness, sent me the following literal translation of the verses : 
 
 " There came Tliumas Derby, born king. 
 He it was who wore the golden crupper ; 
 There was not one Lord in wide England itself. 
 With so many vassals as be bad. 
 
 " On Scottishmen he avenged himself; 
 He went over to Kirkcudbright, 
 And there made such havoc of houses. 
 That some are uninhabitable to this day. 
 
 " Was not that fair in a youth, 
 
 To avenge himself on his foe while he was so young ; 
 Before his beard had grown around his mouth, 
 And to bring home his men in safety ? " 
 
 This incursion of the Earl with the golden crupper was severely revenged. The gen- 
 llemen of the name of MacCuHoch, a clan then and now powerful in Galloway, had at 
 ti)eir head, at the time, a chief of courage and activity, named Cutlar MacCulloch. He 
 was an excellent seaman, and speedily equipped a predatory flotilla with which he made 
 repeated descents on the northern shores of the Isle of Man, the dominions of the Earl of 
 Derby, carrying off all that was not, in the border phrase, too hot or too heavy. 
 
 The following is the deposition of John Machariotic concerning the losses he had suf- 
 fered by this sea-king and his Galloway men. It is dated at Peel Castle.—" Taken by 
 Collard MacCulloch and his men by wrongous spoliation, Twa box beddes and aykin 
 Lurdes, i c lathe, a feder bouster, a cote of Mailzie, a mete burde, two kystis, five barrels, 
 a gjle-fat, xx pipes, twa gunys, three bolls of malt, a querne ofrosateof vi stane, certain 
 petes [peats], extending to i c load, viii bolls of threschit corn, xli unthraschin, and xl 
 itnowte."— CiiALLERSON, p. 47, edit. London, 1653. 
 
 This active rover rendered his name so formidable, that the custom of eating the meat 
 before the broth was introduced by the islanders whose festivals he often interrupted. 
 They also remembered him in their prayers and graces ; as, 
 
 " God keep the house and all within. 
 From Cut MacCulloch and liis kin ; " 
 
262 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 or, as I have heard it recited, 
 
 " God keep the good corn, and the sheep, and the bullock. 
 From Satan, from sin, and from Cutlar MacCulloch." 
 
 It is said to have chanced, as the master of the house had uttered one of these popular 
 benisons, that Cullar in person entered the habitation with this reply : 
 
 " Gudeinan, gudeman, ye pray too late, 
 MacCuUoch's ships are at the Yaite." 
 
 The Yaite is a well-known landing-place on the north side of the Isle of Man. 
 
 This redoubted corsair is, I believe, now represented by the chief of the name, James 
 MacCulloch, Esq. of Ardwell, the author's friend and near connexion. 
 
 Note II., p. 259.— CORRESPONDEKCE OF COLEJIAN. 
 
 The unfortunate Coleman, executed for the Popish Plot, was secretary to the late Du- 
 chess of York, and had been a correspondent of the French King's confessor, P^re La 
 Chaise. Their correspondence was seized, and although the papers contained nothing to 
 confirm the monstrous fictions of the accusers, yet there was a great deal to show that he 
 and other zealous Catholics anxiously sought for and desired to find the means to bring 
 back England to the faith of Rome. " It is certain," says Hume," that the restless and 
 enterprising spirit of the Catholic church, particularly of the Jesuits, merits attention, 
 and is in some degree dangerous to every other communion. Such zeal of proselytism 
 actuates that sect, that its missionaries have penetrated into every region of the globe, 
 and in one sense there is a Popish plot continually carrying on against all slates, Pro- 
 testant, Pagan, and Mahometan." History of England, vol. vii., p. 72, edit. 1797. 
 
 Note III., p. 260.— Funeral Scene of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey. 
 
 This solemnity is especially mentioned by North. " The crowd was prodigious, both at 
 the procession and in and about the church, and so heated, that any thing called Papists, 
 were it a cat or a dog, had probably gone to pieces in a moment. The Catholics all kept 
 close in their houses and lodgings, thinking it a good compensation to be safe there, so 
 far were they from acting violently at that time. But there was all that which upheld 
 among the common people an artificial fright, so that every one almost fancied a Popish 
 knife just at his throat; and at the sermon, beside the preacher, two thumping divines 
 stood upright in the pulpit, to guard him from being killed while he was preaching, by the 
 Papists. I did not see this spectre, but was credibly told by some that affirmed that they 
 did see it, and I never met with any that did contradict it. A most portentous spectacle, 
 sure, three parsons in one pulpit! Enough of itself, on a less occasion, to excite terror 
 in the audience. The like, I guess, was never seen before, and probably will never be 
 seen again ; and it bad not been so now, as is most evident, but for some stratagem 
 founded upon the impetuosity of the mob."— Exameny p. 104. 
 
 It may be, however, remarked, that the singular circumstance of Sir Ednvondsbury 
 Godfrey, the Justice before whom Oates had made his deposition, being found murdered, 
 was the incident upon which most men relied as complete proof of the existence of the 
 plot. As he was believed to have lost his life by the Papists, for having taken Oales's 
 deposition, the panic spread with inconceivable rapidity, and every species of horror was 
 apprehended— every report, the more absurd the better, eagerly listened to and believed. 
 Whether this unfortunate gentleman lost his life by Papist or Protestant, by private 
 enemies, or by his own hand (for he was a low-spirited and melancholy man), will pro- 
 bably never be discovered. 
 
PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The Gordon then his bugle Wew, 
 
 And said, awa, awa ; 
 The House of Rhodes is ail ou flame, 
 
 T hauld it time to ga'. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 When Julian awakened Ihe next morning, all was still and 
 vacant in the apartment. The rising sun, which shone through 
 the half-closed shutters, showed some relics of the last night's ban- 
 quet, which his confused and throbbing head assured him had been 
 carried into a debauch. 
 
 Without being much of a boon companion, Julian, like other 
 young men of the time, was not in the habit of shunning wine, 
 which was then used in considerable quantities; and he could not 
 help being surprised, that the few cups he had drunk over night 
 had produced on his frame the effects of excess. He rose up, 
 adjusted his dress, and sought in the apartment for water to per- 
 form his morning ablutions, but without success. Wine there was 
 on the table-, and beside it one stool stood, and another lay, as if 
 thrown down in the heedless riot of the evening. *' Surely," he 
 thought to himself, " the wine must have been very powerful, 
 which rendered me insensible to the noise my companions must 
 liave made ere they finished their carouse." 
 
 With momentary suspicion he examined his weapons, and the 
 packet which he had received from the Countess, and kept in a 
 secret pocket of his upper-coat, bound close about his person. All 
 was safe ^ and the very operation reminded him of the duties which 
 lay before him. He left the apartment where they had supped, 
 and went into another, wretched enough, where, in a truckle-bed, 
 were stretched two bodies, covered with a rug, the heads belonging 
 to which were amicably deposited upon the same truss of hay. 
 The one was the black shock-head of the groom •, the other, graced 
 with a long thrum nightcap, showed a grizzled pate, and a grave 
 caricatured countenance, which the hook-nose and lantern-jaws 
 proclaimed to belong to the Gallic minister of good cheer, whose 
 praises he had heard sung forth on the preceding evening. These 
 worthies seemed to have slumbered in the arms of Bacchus as well 
 as of Morpheus, for there were broken flasks on the floor ; and their 
 deep snoring alone showed that they were alive. 
 
 Bent upon resuming his journey, as duty and expedience alike 
 dictated, Julian next descended the trap-stair, and essayed a door al 
 the bottom of the steps. It was fastened within. He called — no 
 answer was returned. It must be, he thought, the apartment of 
 
264 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 the revellers, now probably sleeping as soundly as their dependants 
 slill slumbered, and as he himself had done a few minutes before. 
 Should he awake them? — To what purpose? They were men with 
 whom accident had involved him against his own will; and, si- 
 tuated as he was, he thought it wise to take the earliest opportunity 
 of breaking off from society, which was suspicious, and might be 
 perilous. Ruminating thus, he essayed another door, which ad- 
 mitted him to a bedroom, where lay another harmonious slumberer. 
 The mean uslensils, pewter measures, empty cans and casks, with 
 which this room was lumbered, proclaimed it that of the host, who 
 slept surrounded by his professional Implements of hospitality and 
 stock in trade. 
 
 This discovery relieved Peveril from some delicate embarrass- 
 ment which he had formerly entertained. He put upon the table 
 a piece of money, sufficient, as he judged, to pay his share of the 
 preceding night's reckoning ; not caring to be indebted for his 
 entertainment to the strangers, whom he was leaving without the 
 formality of an adieu. 
 
 His conscience cleared of this gentlemanlike scruple, Peveril 
 proceeded with a light heart, though somewhat a dizzy head, to 
 the stable, which he easily recognised among a few other paltry 
 outhouses. His horse, refreshed with rest, and perhaps not un- 
 mindful of his services the evening before, neighed as his master 
 entered the stable*, and Peveril accepted the sound as an omen of a 
 prosperous journey. He paid the augury with a sieveful of corn 5 
 and, while his palfrey profited by his attention, walked into the 
 fresh air to cool his heated blood, and consider what course he 
 should pursue in order to reach the Castle of Marlindale before 
 sunset. His acquaintance with the country in general, gave him 
 confidence that he could not have greatly deviated from the nearest 
 road-, and with his horse in good condition, he conceived he might 
 easily reach Martindale before nightfall. 
 
 Having adjusted his route in his mind, he returned into the 
 stable to prepare his steed for the journey, and soon led him into 
 the ruinous court-yard of the inn, bridled, saddled, and ready 
 to be mounted. But as Peveril's hand was upon the mane, and 
 his left foot in the stirrup, ahand touched his cloak, and the voice of 
 Ganlesse said, ' ' What, MasterPeveril, is this your foreign breeding ? 
 or have you learned in France to take French leave of your friends? " 
 
 JuHan started like a guilty thing, although a moment's reflection 
 assured him that he was neither wrong nor in danger. '' I cared 
 not to disturb you,'' he said, "although 1 did come as far as the door 
 of your chamber. I supposed your friend and you might require, 
 after our last night's revel, rather sleep than ceremony. I left my 
 own bed, though a rough one, wtlh more reluctance than usual ; 
 and as my occasions oblige me to be an early traveller, I thought 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 265 
 
 it best to depart without Icave-laking. I have left a token for mine 
 host, on the table of his apartment." 
 
 *'It was unnecessary," said Ganlesse-, ''the rascal is already 
 overpaid. — But are you not rather premature in your purpose of 
 departing I My mind tells me that Master Julian Pevcril had belter 
 proceed with me to London, than turn aside for any purpose what- 
 ever. You may see already that 1 am no ordinary person, but a 
 master-spirit of the time. For the cuckoo I travel with, and whom 
 I indulge in his prodigal follies, he also has his uses. But you are 
 of a different cast; and I not only would serve you, but even wish 
 you to be my own." 
 
 Julian gazed on this singular person when he spoke. We have 
 already said his figure was mean and slight, with very ordinary 
 and unmarked features, unless we were to distinguish the light- 
 nings of a keen grey eye, which corresponded, in its careless and 
 prideful glance, with the haughty superiority which the stranger 
 assumed in his conversation. It was not till after a momentary 
 pause, that Julian replied,- "Can you wonder, sir, that in my cir- 
 cumslances — if they are indeed known to you so well as they seem 
 —I should decline unnecessary confidence on the affairs of moment 
 which have called me hither, or refuse the company of a stranger, 
 who assigns no reason for desiring mine?" 
 
 "Be it as you list, young mon," answered Ganlesse-, "only 
 remember hereafter, you had a 1-air offer — it is not every one to 
 whom I would have made it. If we should meet hereafter, on 
 other, and on worse terms, impute it to yourself, and not to me." 
 
 " I understand not your threat," answered Peveril, " if a threat 
 be indeed implied. I have done no evil — I feel no apprehension — 
 and I cannot, in common sense, conceive why I should suffer for 
 refusing my confidence to a stranger, who seems to require that I 
 should submit me bhndfold to his guidance." 
 
 "Farewell, then, Sir Julian of the Peak — that may soon be," 
 said the stranger, removing the hand whicii he had as yet left care- 
 lessly on Ihe horse's bridle. 
 
 "How mean you by that phrase ?" said Julian ; " and why apply 
 such a title tome?" 
 
 The stranger smiled, and only answered, "Here our conference 
 ends. The way is before you. You will find it longer and rougher 
 than that by which I would have guided you." 
 
 So saying, Ganlesse turned his back and walked towards tlio 
 house. On the threshold he turned about once more, and seeing 
 that Peveril had not yet moved from the spot, he again smiled and 
 beckoned to him ; but Julian, recalled by that sign to recollection, 
 spurred his horse, and set forward on his journey. 
 
 It was not long ere his local acquaintance with the country 
 enabled him to regain the road lo Martindale, from which he had 
 
266 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 diverged on the preceding evening for about two miles. But the 
 roads, or rather the patiis of this wild country, so nfiuch satirized 
 by their native poet, Cotton, were so complicated in some places, 
 so difficult to be traced in others, and so until for hasty travelling 
 in almost all, that, in spite of Julian's utmost exertions, and though 
 he made no longer delay upon the journey than was necessary to 
 bait his horse at a small hamlet through which he passed at noon, 
 it was nightfall ere he reached an eminence, from which, an hour 
 sooner, the battlements of Martindale Castle would have been 
 visible 5 and where, when they were hid in night, their situation 
 was indicated by a light constantly maintained in a lofty tower, 
 called the Warder's Turret ; and which domestic beacon had ac- 
 quired, through all the neighbourhood, the name of Peveril's 
 Pole-star. 
 
 This was regularly kindled at curfew toll, and supplied with as 
 much wood and charcoal as maintained the light till sunrise \ and 
 at no period was the ceremonial omitted, saving during the space 
 intervening between the death of a Lord of the Castle and his 
 interment. When this last event had taken place, the nightly 
 beacon was rekindled with some ceremony, and continued till fate 
 called the successor to sleep with his fathers. It is not known 
 from what circumstance the practice of maintaining this light 
 originally sprung. Tradition spoke of it doubtfully. Some thought 
 it was the signal of general hospitality, which, in ancient times, 
 guided the wandering knight, or the weary pilgrim, to rest and 
 refreshment. Others spoke of it as a '■' lovelighled watchflre," 
 by which the provident anxiety of a former lady of Martindale 
 guided her husband homeward through the (errors of a midnight 
 storm. The less favourable construction of unfriendly neighbours 
 of the dissenting persuasion, ascribed the origin and continuance 
 of this practice, to the assuming pride of the family of Peveril, 
 who thereby chose to intimate their ancient suzerainete over the 
 whole country, in the manner of the admiral, who carries the 
 lantern in the poop, for the guidance of the fleet. And in the 
 former times, our old friend. Master Solsgrace, dealt from the 
 pulpit many a hard hit against Sir GeolTrey, as he that had raised 
 his horn, and set up his candlestick on high. Certain it is, that 
 all the Peverils, from father to son, had been especially attentive 
 to the maintenance of this custom, as something intimately con- 
 nected with the dignity of their family : and in the hands of Sir 
 Geoffrey, the observance was not likely to be omitted. 
 
 Accordingly, the polar-star of Peveril had continued to beam 
 more or less brightly during all the vicissitudes of the Civil War; 
 and glimmered, however faintly, during the subsequent period of 
 Sir Geoffrey's depression. But he was often heard to say, and 
 sometimes to swear, that while there was a perch of woodland left 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 267 
 
 to Ihe estate, Itie old beacon-grato should not lack replenishing. 
 All this his son Julian well knew ^ and therefore it was with no 
 ordinary feelings of surprise and anxiety, that, looking in the di- 
 rection of the Castle, he perceived that the light was not visible. 
 He hailed — rubbed his eyes — shifted his position — and endea- 
 voured, in vain, to persuade himself that he had mistaken the p(»int 
 from which the polar-star of his house was visible, or that some 
 newly intervening obstacle, the growth of a plantation, perhaps, 
 or the erection of some building, intercepted the light of the beacon. 
 But a moment's reflection assured him, that from the high and free 
 situation which Martindale-Castle bore in reference to the surround- 
 ing country, this could not have taken place ^ and the inference 
 necessarily forced itself upon his mind, that Sir Geoffrey, his 
 father, was either deceased^ or that the family must have been 
 disturbed by some strange calamity, under the pressure of which 
 their wonted custom and solemn usage had been neglected. 
 
 Under the influence of undefinable apprehension, young Peveril 
 now struck the spurs into his jaded steed, and forcing him down 
 the broken and steep path at a pace which set safety at defiance, 
 he arrived at the village of Marlindale-Moultrassic, eagerly desirous 
 to ascertain the cause of this ominous eclipse. The street, through 
 which his tired horse paced slow and reluctantly, was now deserted 
 and empty •, and scarcely a candle twinkled from a casement, 
 except from the latticed window of the little inn, called the Peveril 
 Arms, from which a broad light shone, and several voices were 
 heard in rude festivity. 
 
 Before the door of this inn, the jaded palfrey, guided by the 
 instinct or experience which makes a hackney well acquainted 
 with the outside of a house of entertainment, made so sudden and 
 determined a pause, that, notwithstanding his haste, the rider 
 thought it best to dismount, expecting to be readily supplied with 
 a fresh horse by Roger Raine, the landlord, the ancient dependant 
 of his family. He also wished to relieve his anxiety, by enquiring 
 concerning the state of things at the Castle, when he was surprised 
 to hear, bursting from the taproom of the loyal old host, a well- 
 known song of the Commonwealth time, which some puritanical 
 wag had written in reprehension of the Cavaliers, and their disso- 
 lute courses, and in which his father came in for a lash of the satirist. 
 
 •• Ye thought in the world there was no power to tame ye -, 
 So you tippled and drabb'd till the saints overcame ye ; 
 • Forsooth,' and • Ne'er stir,' sir, have vanquished *G— ^d— n uic,' 
 Which nobody can deny. 
 
 *• There was bluff old Sir Geoffrey loved brandy and mum well, 
 And to see a beer glass turn'd over the thumb well ; 
 But he fled like the wind, before Fairfax and Cromwell, 
 Which nobodv can deny. " 
 
26ft PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Some strange revolution, Julian was aware, must have taken 
 place, both in the village and in the Castle, ere these sounds of 
 unseemly insult could have been poured forth in the very inn which 
 was decorated with the armorial bearings of his family^ and not 
 knowing how far it might be advisable to intrude on these unfriendly 
 revellers, without the power of repelling or chastising their inso- 
 lence, he led his horse to a back-door, which, as he recollected, 
 communicated with the landlord's apartment, having determined 
 to make private enquiry of him concerning the state of matters at 
 the Castle. He knocked repeatedly, and as often called on Roger 
 Raine with an earnest but stifled voice. At length a female voice 
 replied, by the usual enquiry , ' ' Who is there ? " 
 
 " It is I, Dame Raine — I, Julian Peveril — tell your husband to 
 come to me presently." 
 
 ''Alack, and a well-a-day. Master Julian, if it be really you — 
 you are to know my poor goodman has gone where he can come 
 to no one; but, doubtless, we shall all go to him, as Matthew 
 Chamberlain says." 
 
 '' He is dead, then?" said Julian. " I am extremely sorry" 
 
 " Dead six months and more, Master Julian ; and let me tell you, 
 it is a long time for a lone woman, as Matt Chamberlain says." 
 
 " Well, do you or your Chamberlain undo the door. I want a 
 fresh horse ; and 1 want to know how things are at the Castle." 
 
 "The Castle — lack-a-day! — Chamberlain — Matthew Chamber- 
 lain— I say. Matt!" 
 
 Matt Chamberlain apparently was at no great distance, for he 
 presently answered her call ; and Peveril, as he stood close to the 
 door, could hear them whispering to each other, and distinguish 
 in a great measure what they said. And here it may be noticed, 
 that Dame Raine, accustomed to submit to the authority of old 
 Roger, who vindicated as well the husband's domestic prerogative, 
 as that of the monarch in the state, had, when left a buxom widow, 
 been so far incommoded by the exercise of her newly acquired 
 independence, that she had recourse, upon all occasions, to the 
 advice of Matt Chamberlain •, and as Matt began no longer to go 
 slipshod, and in a red nightcap, but wore Spanish shoes, and a 
 high-crowned beaver (at least of a Sunday), and moreover was 
 called Master Matthew by his fellow-servants, the neighbours in 
 the village argued a speedy change of the name on the sign-post ; 
 nay, perhaps, of the very sign itself, for Matthew was a bit of a 
 Purilan, and no friend to Peveril of the Peak. 
 
 " Now counsel me, an you be a man. Matt Chamberlain," said 
 Widow Raine; 'Tor never stir, if here be not Master Julian's own 
 self, and he wants a horse, and what not, and all as if things were 
 as they wont to be." 
 
 " Why, dame^ an ye wiil walk by my counsel," said the Cham- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 269 
 
 berlain, *' e'en shake him off — lei him be jogging^while his boots 
 are green. This is no world for folks to scald their fingers in other 
 folks' broth." 
 
 " And that is well spoken, Iruly," answered Dame Raine ; '-but 
 then, look you, Matt, we have eaten their bread, and, as my poor 
 
 goodman used to say " 
 
 '' Nay, nay, dame, they that walk by the counsel of the dead, 
 shall have none of the living; and so you may do as you list ; but 
 if you will walk by mine, drop latch, and draw bolt, and bid him 
 seek quarlers farther — that is my counsel." 
 
 " I desire nothing of you, sirrah," said Peveril, ''save but to 
 know how Sir Geoffrey and his lady do." 
 
 "Lack-a-day I — lack-a-day !" in a tone of sympathy, was the 
 only answer he received from the landlady ; and the conversalion 
 betwixt her and her Chamberlain was resumed, but in a lone loo 
 low to be overheard. 
 
 At length, Malt Chamberlain spoke aloud, and with a tone of 
 authority : '' We undo no doors at this time of night, for it is 
 against the Justices' orders, and might cost us our license ; and 
 for the Castle, the road up to it lies before you, and I think you 
 know it as well as we do." 
 
 " And I know you," said Peveril, remounting his wearied horse, 
 ** for an ungrateful churl, whom, on the first opportunity, I will 
 assuredly cudgel to a mummy." 
 
 To Ihis menace Matthew made no reply, and Peveril presently 
 heard him leave the apartment, after a few earnest words betwixt 
 him and his mistress. 
 
 Impatient at this delay, and at the evil omen implied in these 
 people's conversation and deportment, Peveril, after some vain 
 spurring of his horse, which positively refused to move a step far- 
 ther, dismounted once more, and was about to pursue his journey 
 on fool, notwithstanding Ihe extreme disadvantage under which 
 the high riding-boots of Ihe period laid those who attempted to 
 walk with such encumbrances, when he was stopped by a gentle 
 call from the window. 
 
 Her counsellor was no sooner gone, than the good-nature and 
 habitual veneration of the dame for the house of Peveril, and per- 
 haps some fear for her counsellor's bones, induced her to open the 
 casement, and cry, but in a low and timid tone, '"Hist! hist I 
 Master Julian — be you gone?" 
 
 '' Not yet, dame," said Julian ^ *' though it seems my stay is un- 
 welcome." 
 
 " Nay, but good young master, it is because men counsel so diffe- 
 rently ; for here was my poor old Roger Raine would have thought 
 the chimney-corner too cold for you ; and here is Mail Chamberlain 
 thinks the cold court-yard is warm enough." 
 
270 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 "Never mind that, dame/' said Julian-, "do but only tell me 
 what has happened at Marlindale Castle? I see Ihe beacon is ex- 
 tinguished." 
 
 "Is it in troth? — ay, like enough — then good Sir GeolTrey is 
 gone to Heaven with my old Roger Raine I " 
 
 " Sacred Heaven ! " exclaimed Peveril ; " when was my father 
 taken ill?" 
 
 " Never, as I knows of," said the dame ; "but about three hours 
 since, arrived a parly at the Castle, with buff-coats and bandoleers, 
 and one of the Parliament's folks, like in Oliver's time. My old 
 Roger Raine would have shut the gales of the inn against them, 
 but he is in the churchyard, and Malt says it is against law; and 
 so they came in and refreshed men and horse, and sent for Master 
 Bridgenorth, that is at Moultrassie-Hall even novv^ and so they 
 went up to the Caslle, and there was a fray, it is like, as the old 
 Knight was no man lo lake napping, as poor Roger Raine used to 
 say. Always the ofTicers had the best on't^ and reason there is, 
 since they had law of their side, as our Matthew says. But since 
 the pole-star of the Caslle is out, as your honour says, why, doubt- 
 less, the old gentleman is dead." 
 
 " Gracious Heaven !— Dear Dame, for love or gold, let me have 
 a horse to make for the Caslle I " 
 
 " The Caslle?" said the Dame^ " the Roundheads, as my poor 
 Roger called them, will kill you as they have killed your father I 
 Better creep into the woodhouse, and I will send Betl with a blanket 
 and some supper— Or stay— my old Dobbin slands in the little 
 stable beside the hen-coop — e'en take liim, and make Ihe best of 
 your way out of the country, for there is no safely here for you. 
 Hear what songs some of them are singing at the tap!— so take 
 Dobbin, and do not forget to leave your own horse instead." 
 
 Peveril waited to hear no farther, only, that just as he turned to 
 go off to Ihe stable, the compassionate female was heard to ex- 
 claim,- — "OLord! what will Matthew Chamberlain say?" but 
 instantly added, " Let him say what he will, I may dispose of what's 
 my own." 
 
 With the haste of a double-fee'd hostler did Julian exchange the 
 equipments of his jaded brute with poor Dobbin, who stood quietly 
 tugging at his rackful of hay, without dreaming of the business 
 which was that night destined for him. Notwithstanding the dark- 
 ness of the place, Julian succeeded marvellous quickly in prepar- 
 ing for his journey ^ and leaving his own horse to find its way to 
 Dobbin's rack by instinct, he leaped upon his new acquisition, 
 and spurred him sharply against the hill, which rises steeply from 
 the village to the Castle. Dobbin, little accustomed to such exer- 
 tions, snorted, panled, and IroUed as briskly as he could, until at 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 271 
 
 length he brought his rider before the enlrance-gate of his father's 
 ancient seat. 
 
 The moon was now rising, but the portal was hidden from its 
 beams, being situated, as we have mentioned elsewhere, in a deep 
 recess betwixt Uvo large flanking lowers. Peveril dismounted, 
 turned his horse loose, and advanced to the gate, which, contrary 
 to his expectation, he found open. He entered the large court- 
 yard^ and could then perceive that lights yet twinkled in the lower 
 part of the building, although he had not before observed them, 
 owing to the height of the outward walls. The main door, or great 
 hall-gale, as it was called, was, since the partially decayed state of 
 the family, seldom opened, save on occasions of particular cere- 
 mony. A smaller postern door served the purpose of ordinary 
 entrance; and to that Julian now repaired. This also was open — a 
 circumstance which would of itself have alarmed him, had he not 
 already had so many causes for apprehension. His heart sunk 
 within him as he turned to the left, through a small outward hall, 
 towards the great parlour, which the family usually occupied as a 
 sitting apartment -, and his alarmhed became still greater, when, on 
 a nearer approach, he heard proceeding from thence the murmur 
 of several voices. He threw the door of the apartment wide ; and the 
 sight which was thus displayed, warranted all the evil bodings 
 which he had entertained. 
 
 In front of him slood the old Knight, whose arms were strongly 
 secured, over the elbows, by a leathern belt drawn tight round 
 them, and made fast behind; two ruffianly-looking men, apparently 
 his guards, had hold of his doublet. The scabbardless sword which 
 lay on the floor, and the empty sheath which hung by Sir Geoffrey's 
 side, showed the stout old Cavalier had not been reduced to this 
 state of bondage without an attempt at resistance. Two or three 
 persons, having their backs turned towards Julian, sat round a 
 table, and appeared engaged in writing — the voices which he had 
 heard were theirs, as they murmured to each other. Lady Peveril 
 — the emblem of death, so pallid was her countenance — stood at 
 the distance of a yard or two from her husband, upon whom her 
 eyes were fixed with an intenseness of gaze, like that of one who 
 looks her last on the object which she loves the best. She was the 
 first to perceive Julian ; and she exclaimed, " Merciful Heaven I — 
 my son I — the misery of our house is complete I " 
 
 *'My son!" echoed Sir Geoltrey, starting from the sullen stale 
 of dejection, and swearing a deep oath — "thou arl come in the 
 right time, Julian. Strike me one good blow — cleave me that 
 traitorous thief from the crown to the brisket I and that done, I 
 care not what comes next." 
 
 The sight of his father's situation made the son forget the in- 
 equality of (he contest which he was about to provoke. 
 
27^ PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 "Villains," ho said, " unhand him !" and, rushing on the guards 
 with his drawn sword, compelled them to let go Sir Geoffrey, and 
 stand on their own defence. 
 
 Sir Geoffroy, thus far liberated, shouted to his lady, " Undo the 
 belt, dame, and we will have three good blows for it yet — they must 
 fight well that beat both father and son I" 
 
 But one of those men who had started up from the writing-table 
 when the fray commenced, prevented Lady Peveril from rendering 
 her husband this assistance^ while another easily mastered the 
 hampered Knight, though no! without receiving several severe kicks 
 from his heavy boots— his condition permitting him no other mode of 
 defence. A third, who saw that Julian, young, active, and animated 
 with the fury of a son who fights for his parents, was compeUing 
 the two guards to give ground, seized on his collar, and altempled 
 to master his sword. Suddenly dropping that weapon, and snatch- 
 ing one of his pistols, Julian fired it at the head of the person by 
 whom he was thus assailed. He did not drop, but staggering back 
 as if he had received a severe blow, showed Peveril, as he sunk 
 into a chair, the features of old Bridgenorlh, blackened m\h the 
 explosion, which had even set fire to part of his grey hair. A cry 
 of astonishment escaped from Julian-, and in the alarm and horror 
 of the moment, he was easily secured and disarmed by tliose with 
 whom he had been at first engaged. 
 
 "Heed it not, Julian," said Sir Geoffrey, "heed it not, my 
 brave boy — that shot has balanced all accompts I — ^but how — what 
 the devil -he lives I — Was your pistol loaded with chaff? or has the 
 foul fiend given him proof against lead?" 
 
 There was some reason for Sir Geoffrey's surprise, since, as he 
 spoke, Major Bridgenorth collected himself— sat up in the chair as 
 one who recovers from a stunning blow — then rose, and wiping 
 with his handkerchief the marks of the explosion from his face, he 
 approached Julian, and said, in the same cold unaltered tone in 
 which he usually expressed himself, "Young man, you have reason 
 to bless God, who has this day saved you from the commission of a 
 great crime." 
 
 " Bless the devil, ye crop-eared knave !" exclaimed Sir Geoffrey ; 
 "for nothing less than the father of all fanatics saved your brains 
 from being blown about like the rinsings of Beelzebub's porridge- 
 pot!" 
 
 "Sir Geoffrey," said Major Bridgenorth, " I have already told 
 you, Ihal with you I will hold no argument ^ for to you I am not ac- 
 countable for any of my actions." 
 
 " Master Bridgenorlh," said the lady, making a strong effort to 
 speak, and to speak with calmness, " whatever revenge your Chris- 
 tian slate of conscience may permit you to take on my husband — I 
 — I, who have some right to experience compassion at your hand, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 273 
 
 for most sincerely did I compassionate you when the hand of 
 Heaven was heavy on you — I implore you not to involve my son in 
 our common ruin I — Let the destruction of the father and mother, 
 with the ruin of our ancient house, satisfy your resentment for any 
 wrong which you have ever received at my husband's hand." 
 
 ' ' Hold your peace, housewife," said the Knight ; ''you speak like 
 a fool, and meddle with what concerns you not. — Wrong at my 
 hand? The cowardly knave has ever had but even too much right. 
 Had I cudgelled the cur soundly when he first bayed at me, the 
 cowardly mongrel had been now crouching at my feet, instead of 
 flying at my throat. But if I get through this action, as I have got 
 through worse weather, I will pay off old scores, as far as tough 
 crab-tree and cold iron will bear me out." 
 
 " Sir Geoffrey," replied Bridgenorlh, " if the birth you boast of 
 has made you blind to better principles, it might have at least 
 taught you civility. What do you complain of? I am a magistrate^ 
 and I execute a warrant, addressed to me by the first authority in 
 the state. I am a creditor also of yours ; and law arms me with 
 powers to recover my own property from the hands of an impro- 
 vident debtor." 
 
 *' You a magistrate!" said the Knight 5 " much such a magistrate 
 as Noll was a monarch. Your heart is up, I warrant, because you 
 have the King's pardon; and are replaced on the bench, forsooth, 
 to persecute the poor Papists. There was never turmoil in the slate, 
 but knaves had their vantage by it — never pot boiled, but the scum 
 was cast uppermost." 
 
 "For God's sake, my dearest husband," said Lady Peveril, 
 " cease this wild talk I It can but incense Master Bridgenorlh, who 
 might otherwise consider, that in common charity"^ 
 
 " Incense him!" said Sir Geoffrey, impatiently interrupting her; 
 " God's-dealh, madam, you will drive me mad! Have you lived so 
 long in this world, and yet expect consideration and charity from 
 an old starved wolf like that? And if he had it, do you think that I, 
 or you, madam, as my wife, are subjects for his charily? — Julian, 
 my poor fellow, I am sorry thou hast come so unluckily, since thy 
 petronel was not better loaded — but Ihy credit is lost for ever as a 
 marksman." 
 
 This angry colloquy passed so rapidly on all sides, that Julian, 
 scarce recovered from the extremity of astonishment with which he 
 was overwhelmed at finding himself suddenly plunged into a situa- 
 tion of such extremity, had no time to consider in what way he 
 could most effectually act for the succour of his parents. To speak 
 Bridgenorlh fair, seemed the more prudenl course •, but to this his 
 pride could hardly stoop; yet he forced himself to say, with as 
 much calmness as he could assume, '* Master Bridgenorlh, since 
 you act as a magistrate, I desire to be treated according to the laws 
 
 IS 
 
274 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 of England; and demand to know of wha( we are accused, and by 
 whose authority we are arrested?" 
 
 ^' Here is another howlet for ye!" exclaimed the impetuous 
 old Knight; " his mother speaks to a Puritan of charity •, and thou 
 must talk of law to a roundheaded rebel, with a wannion to you ! 
 What warrant hath he, Ihink ye, beyond the Parliamenrs or the 
 <levirs?" 
 
 "Who speaks of the Parliament?" said a person entering, whom 
 Peveril recognised as the official person whom he had before seen 
 at the horse-dealer's, and who now bustled in with all the conscious 
 dignity of plenary authority, — Who talks of the Parliament?" he 
 exclaimed. " I promise you, enough has been found in this house 
 to convict twenty plotters — Here be arms, and that good store. 
 Bring them in. Captain." 
 
 *' The very same," exclaimed the Captain, approaching, " which 
 I mention in my printed Narrative of Information, lodged before 
 the Honourable House of Commons ; they were commissioned from 
 old Vander Huys of Rotterdam, by orders of Don John of Austria, 
 for the service of the Jesuits." 
 
 " Now, by this light," said Sir Geoffrey, " they are the pikes, 
 musketoons, and pistols, that have been hidden in the garret ever 
 since Naseby fight I" 
 
 " And here," said the Captain's yoke-fellew, Everett, '' are pro- 
 per priest's trapping— anliphoners, and missals, and copes, I 
 warrant you — ay, and proper pictures, too, for Papists to multer 
 and bow over." 
 
 " Now plague on thy snuffling whine," said Sir Geoffrey ; '' here 
 is a rascal will swear my grandmother's old farthingale to be priest's 
 vestments, and the story book of Owlenspiegel, a Popish missal !" 
 
 " But how's this. Master Bridgenorlh?" said Topham, address- 
 ing the magistrate ; " your honour has been as busy as we have; 
 and you have caught another knave while we recovered these 
 toys." 
 
 " I think, sir," said Julian, "if you look into your warrant, 
 which, if I mislake not, names the persons whom you are directed 
 to arrest, you will find you have no title to apprehend me.'^ 
 
 "Sir," said the officer, puffing wilh importance, " I do not 
 know who you are; butl would you were the best man in Englaml 
 that I might teach you the respect due to the warrant of the House. 
 Sir, there steps not the man within the British seas, bul I will 
 arrest him on authority of this bit of parchment ; and I do arrest 
 you accordingly. — What do you accuse him of, gentlemen?" 
 
 Dangerfield swaggered forward, and peeping under Julian's hal, 
 " Stop my vital breath, " ho exclaimed, " but I have seen you 
 before, my friend, an I could bul think where ; but my memory 
 is not worth a bean, since I have been obliged to use it so much 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 275 
 
 of lale, in the behalf of the poor slate. But I do know the fellow ^ 
 and lyiave seen him amongst the Papists— Til take that on my as- 
 sured damnation." 
 
 *' Why, Captain Dangerfield,"' said the Captain's smoother but 
 more dangerous associate, — "verily, it is the same youth whom 
 we saw at the horse-mercbant's yesterday ^ and we had matter 
 against him then, only Master Topham did not desire us to bring 
 it out." 
 
 "Ye may bring out what ye will against him now," said Top- 
 ham, " for he hath blasphemed the warrant of the House. 1 think 
 ye said ye saw him somewhere?" 
 
 " Ay, verily," said Everett, " I have seen him amongst the se- 
 minary pupils at Sainl-Omer's — he was who but he with the re- 
 gents there." 
 
 "Nay, Master Everett, collect yourself," said Topham^ "for, 
 as I think, you said you saw him at a consult of the Jesuits in 
 London." 
 
 " It was I said so. Master Topham," said the undaunted Dan- 
 gerfield ; " and mine is the tongue that will swear it." 
 
 " Good Master Topham," said Bridgenorth, " you may suspend 
 farther enquiry at present, as it doth but fatigue and perplex the 
 memory of the King's witnesses." 
 
 " You are wrong. Master Bridgenorth — clearly wrong. It doth 
 but keep them in wind — only breathes them like greyhounds be- 
 fore a coursing match." 
 
 "Be it so," said Bridgenorth, with his usual indifference of 
 manner; " but at present this youth must stand committed upon a 
 warrant, which I will presently sign, of having assaulted me while 
 in discharge of my duty as a magistrate, for the rescue of a person 
 legally attached. Did you not hear the report of a pistol?" 
 
 " I will swear to it," said Everett. 
 
 " And I," said Dangerfield. " While we were making search in 
 the cellar, I heard something very Hke a pistol-shot ^ but I con- 
 ceived it to be the drawing of a long-corked bottle of sack, to see 
 whether there were any Popish relics in the inside on't." 
 
 " A pistol-shot!" exclaimed Topham; " here might have been 
 a second Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey's matter. — Oh, thou real spawn 
 of the red old dragon! for he too would have resisted the House's 
 warrant, had we not taken him something at unawares. — Master 
 Bridgenorth, you are a judicious magistrate, and a worthy servant 
 of the state— I would we had many such sound Protestant justices. 
 Shall I have this young fellow away with his parents— what think 
 you ? — or will you keep him for re-examination ?" 
 
 " Master Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, in spite of her hus- 
 band's efforts to interrupt her, " for God's sake, if ever you knew 
 what it was to love one of the many children you have lost, Or her 
 
276 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 ^ho is now left to you, do not pursue your vengeance to the blood 
 of my poor boy ! 1 will forgive you all the rest— all the distress 
 you have wrought — all the yet greater misery with which you 
 threaten us 5 but do not be extreme with one who never can have 
 offended you ! Believe, that if your ears are shut against the cry of 
 a despairing mother, those which are open to the complaint of all 
 who sorrow, will hear my petition and your answer!" 
 
 The agony of mind and of voice with which Lady Peveril ut- 
 tered these words, seeme i to thrill through all present, though 
 most of them were but too much inured to such scenes. Every 
 one was silent, when, ceasing to speak, she fixed on Bridgenorlh 
 her eyes, glislening with tears, with the eager anxiety of one whose 
 life or death seemed to depend upon the answer to be returned. Even 
 Bridgenorth's inflexibility seemed to be shaken •, and his voice was 
 tremulous, as he answered, '' Madam, I would to God I had the pre- 
 sent means of relieving your great distress, otherwise than by re- 
 commending to you a reliance upon Providence ^ and that you take 
 heed to your spirit,[lhat it murmur not under this crook in your lot. 
 For me, I am but as a rod in the hand of the strong man, which 
 smites not of itself, but because it is wielded by the arm of him who 
 holds the same." 
 
 " Even as I and my black rod are guided by the Commons of 
 England," said Master Tophara, who seemed marvellously pleased 
 with the illustration. 
 
 Julian now thought it time to say something in his own behalf ; 
 and he endeavoured to temper it with as much composure as it was 
 possible for hirn to assume. " Master Bridgenorlh," he said, " I 
 neither dispute your authority, nor this gentleman's warrant" 
 
 "You do not?" said Topham. "O ho, master youngster, 1 
 Ihought we should bring you lo your senses presently!" 
 
 " Then, if you so will it, Master Topham," said Bridgenorlh, 
 " thus it shall be. You shall set out with early day, taking wilh 
 you, towards London, the persons of Sir Geoffrey and Lady Peve- 
 ril; and that they may travel according to their quality, you will 
 allow them their coach, sufficiently guarded." 
 
 " I will travel with Ihem myself," said Topham ; "for these 
 rough Derbyshire roads are no easy riding ; and my very eyes are 
 weary wilh looking on these bleak hills. In the coach lean sleep as 
 sound as if I were in the House, and Master Bodderbrains on his legs. " 
 
 " It will become you so to take your ease. Master Topham," 
 answered Bridgenorlh. "For this youth, I will take him under 
 my charge, and bring him up myself." 
 
 '• I may not be answerable for that, worthy Master Bridgenorlh," 
 snid Topham," since becomes within the warrant of the House." 
 
 " Nay, but," said Bridgenorlh," he is only under custody for an 
 assault, wilh the purpose of a rescue 5 and I counsel you against 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 277 
 
 meddling with him, unless you have stronger guard. Sir Geoffrey 
 is now old and broken, but Ihis young fellow is in the flower of 
 his youth, and halh at his beck all the debauched young Cavaliers 
 of the neighbourhood — You will scarce cross the country without 
 a rescue." 
 
 Topham eyed Julian wislfully, as a spider may be supposed to 
 look upon a stray wasp which has got into his web, and which he 
 longs to secure, though he fears the consequences of attempting him. 
 
 Julian himself replied," I know not if this separation be well or 
 ill meant on your part, Master Bridgenorth ^ but on mine, I am 
 only desirous to share the fate of my parents ; and therefore I will 
 give my word of lionour to attempt neither rescue nor escape, on 
 condition you do not separate me from them." 
 
 " Do not say so, Julian," said his mother •, " abide with Master 
 Bridgenorth — my mind tells me he cannot mean so ill by us as his 
 rough conduct would now lead us to infer." 
 
 '-' And I," said Sir GeoITrey," know, that between the doors of 
 my falher^s house and the gates of hell, there steps not such a villaiik 
 on the ground ! And if I wish my hands ever to be unbound again, 
 it is because I hope for one downright blow at a grey head, that 
 has hatched more treason than the whole Long Parliament." 
 
 " Away with thee I " said the zealous officer ^ " is Parliament a 
 word for so foul a mouth as thine ? — Gentlemen," he added, turning 
 to Everett and Dangerfield," you will bear witness to this." 
 
 " To his having reviled the House of Commons—by G — d, Ihalr 
 I will! " said Dangerfield ^ " I will take it on my damnation." 
 
 " And verily," said Everett," as he spoke of Parhament gene- 
 rally, he hath even contemned the House of Lords also." 
 
 "Why, ye poor insignificant wretches," said Sir Geoffrey, 
 " whose very life is a lie — and whose bread is perjury— would you 
 pervert my innocent words almost as soon as they have quilted my 
 lips? I tell you the country is well weary of you; and should Eng- 
 lishmen come to their senses, the jail, the pillory, the whipping- 
 post, and the gibbet, will be loo good preferment for such base 
 blood-suckers. — And now. Master Bridgenorth, you and they may 
 do your worst, for I will not open my mouth to utter a single word 
 while I am in the company of such knaves." 
 
 " Perhaps, Sir Geoffrey," answered Bridgenorth," you would 
 bolter have consulted your own safety in adopting that resolution 
 a little sooner — the tongue is a little member, but it causes much 
 strife. — You, Master Julian, will please to follow me, and without 
 remonstrance or resistance ^ for you must be aware that I have the 
 n)eans of compelling." 
 
 Julian was, indeed, but too sensible, that he had no other course 
 but that of submission to superior force j but ere he left Ihe apart- 
 ment, he kneeled down to receive his father's blessing, which the 
 
278 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 old man bestowed not without a tear in his eye, and in thcemphalic 
 words," God bless thee, my boy! and keep thee good and true lo 
 Church and King, whatever wind shall bring foul weather ! " 
 
 His mother was only able lo pass her hand over his head, and to 
 implore him, in a low tone of voice, not lo be rash or violent in 
 any attempt to render them assistance. " We are innocent," she 
 said," my son— we are innocent — and we are in God's hands. 
 Be the thought our best comfort and proteclion." 
 
 Bridgenorlh now signed to Julian to follow him, which he did, 
 accompanied, or rather conducted, by the two guards who had first 
 disarmed him. When they had passed from the apartment, and 
 were at the door of the oulward hall, Bridgenorlh asked Julian 
 whether he should consider him as under parole •, in which case, he 
 said, he would dispense with all other security but his own promise. 
 
 Peveril, who could not help hoping somewhat from the favou- 
 rable and unresenlful manner in which he was treated by one 
 whose life he had so recently atlempled, replied, without hesita- 
 tien, that he would give his parole for twenty-four hours, neither to 
 attempt lo escape by force nor by flight. 
 
 " It is wisely said," replied Bridgenorlh 5 "for though you might 
 cause bloodshed, be assured that your utmost efforts could do no 
 service to your parents. — Horses there — horses lo the court-yard I " 
 
 The trampling of the horses was soon heard ; and in obedience 
 to Bridgenorth's signal, and in compliance with his promise, Julian 
 mounted one which was presented to him, and prepared lo leave 
 the house of his fathers, in which his parents were now prisoners, 
 and to go, he knew not whither, under the custody of one known 
 lo be the ancient enemy of his family. He was rather surprised at 
 observing, that Bridgenorlh and he were about to travel without 
 any other altendants. 
 
 When they were mounted, and as they rode slowly towards Ihe 
 ouler gate of the court-yard, Bridgenorlh said lo him," It is nol 
 every one who would thus unreservedly commit his safety, by tra- 
 velling at night, and unaided, with the holbrained youth who so 
 lately attempted his life." 
 
 " Master Bridgenorlh," said Julian," I might tell you truly, 
 that I knew you not at the lime when I directed my weapon against 
 you ; but I must also add, that the cause in which I used it might 
 have rendered me, even had I known you, a slight respecler of 
 your person. At present, I do know you: and have neither ma- 
 lice against your person, nor the liberty of a parent lo fight for. 
 Besides, you have my word 5 and when was a Peveril known to 
 break it ? " 
 
 " Ay," replied his companion," a Peveril— a Peveril of the 
 Peak ! — a name which has long sounded like a war-trumpet in the 
 land 5 but which has now perhaps sounded ils last loud note. Look 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 279 
 
 back, young man, on the darksome lurrels of your falher's house, 
 which uplift themselves as proudly on the brow of the hill, as their 
 owners raised themselves above the sons of Iheir people. Think 
 upon your father, a captive — yourself, in some sort, a fugitive — 
 your light quenched— your glory abased — your estate wretched and 
 impoverished. Think that Providence has subjected the destinies 
 of the race of Peveril to one, whom, in their aristocratic pride, 
 they held as a plebeian upstart. Think of this •, and when you again 
 boast of your ancestry, remember, that he who raiseth the lowly 
 can also abase the high in heart." 
 
 Julian did indeed gaze for an instant, with a swelling heart, 
 upon the dimly-seen turrets of his paternal mansion, on which 
 poured the moonlight, mixed with long shadows of the towers and 
 trees. But while he sadly acknowledged the truth of Bridgenorth's 
 observation, he felt indignant at his ill-timed triumph." If fortune 
 had followed worth," he said," the Castle of Martindale, and the 
 name of Peveril, had afforded no room for their enemy's vain- 
 glorious boast. But those who have stood high on Fortune's wheel, 
 must abide by the consequence of its revolutions. Thus much I 
 will at least say for my falher's house that it has not stood unho- 
 noured •, nor will it fall — if it is to fall — unlamented. Forbear, then, 
 if you are indeed the Christian you call yourself to exult in the 
 misfortunes of others, or to confide in your own prosperity. If 
 the light of our house be now quenched, God can rekindle it in 
 his own good time." 
 
 Peveril broke off in extreme surprise ; for as he spoke the last 
 words, the bright red beams of the family beacon began again to 
 glimmer from its wonted watch-tower, checkering the pale moon- 
 beam with a ruddier glow. Bridgenorth also gazed on this unex- 
 pected illumination with surprise, and not, as it seemed, without 
 disquietude. "• Young man," he resumed," it can scarcely be but 
 that Heaven intends to work great things by your hand, so sin- 
 gularly has that augury followed on your words." 
 
 So saying, he put his horse once more in motion ; and looking 
 back, from time to time, as if to assure himself that the beacon of 
 1 he Castle was actually rekindled, he led the way through the well- 
 known paths and alleys, to his own house of Moultrassie, followed 
 by Peveril, who, allhough sensible that the light might be alto- 
 gether accidental, could not but receive as a good omen an event sa 
 intimately connected with the traditions and usages of his family. 
 
 They alighted at (he hall-door, which was hastily opened by a 
 female •, and while the deep tone of Bridgenorth called on the groom 
 to lake their horses, the well-known voice of his daughter Alice 
 was heard to exclaim in thanksgiving to God, who had restored 
 her father in safety. 
 
280 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 We meet, as men see phantoms in a dream, 
 Which glide, and sigh, and sign, and move their lips. 
 But make no sound ; or, if they utter voice, 
 'Tis but a low and undistinguished moaning, 
 Which has nor word nor sense of utter'd sound. 
 The Chieftain. 
 
 We said, at the conclusion of the last chapter, that a female 
 form appeared at the door of Moultrassie-Hall •, and that the well- 
 known accents of Alice Bridgenorth were heard to hail the return 
 of her father, from what she naturally dreaded as a perilous visit 
 to the Gaslle of Martindale. 
 
 Julian, who followed his conductor with a throbbing heart into 
 the lighted hall, was therefore prepared to see her whom he best 
 loved, with her arms thrown around her father. The instant she had 
 quitted his paternal embrace, she was aware of the unexpected guest 
 who had returned in his company. A deep blush, rapidly suc- 
 ceeded by deadly paleness, and again by a slighter suffusion, showed 
 plainly to her lover that his sudden appearance was any thing but 
 indifferent to her. He bowed profoundly — a courtesy which she 
 returned with equal formality, but did not venture to approach 
 more nearly, feeling at once the delicacy of his own situation and 
 of hers. 
 
 Major Bridgenorth turned his cold, fixed, grey, melancholy 
 glance, first on the one of them, and then on the other. "■ Some," 
 he said, gravely, " would, in my case, have avoided this meeting ^ 
 but I have confidence in you both, although you are young, and 
 beset with the snares incidental to your age. There are those within 
 who should not know that ye have been acquainted. Wherefore, 
 be wise, and be as strangers to each other." 
 
 Julian and Alice exchanged glances as her father turned from 
 them, and, lifting a lamp which stood in the entrance-hall, led the 
 way to the interior apartment. There was little of consolation in 
 this exchange of looks-, for the sadness of Alice's glance was 
 mingled with fear, and that of Julian clouded by an anxious sense 
 of doubt. The look also was but momentary ^ for Alice, springing 
 to her father, took the light out of his hand, and, stepping before 
 him, acted as the usher of both into the large oaken parlour, 
 which has been already mentioned as the apartment in which 
 Bridgenorth had spent the hours of dejection which followed the 
 death of his consort and family. It was now lighted up as for the 
 reception of company ^ and five or six persons sat in it, in the 
 plain, black, stiff dress, which was affected by the formal Puritans 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 281 
 
 of the time, in evidence of Iheir conlempl of the manners of the 
 luxurious Court of Charles the Second^ amongst whom, excess of 
 extravagance in apparel, like excess of every other kind, was 
 highly fashionable. 
 
 Julian at first glanced his eyes but slightly along the range of 
 grave and severe faces which composed this society — men, sincere 
 perhaps in their pretensions to a superior purity of conduct and 
 morals, but in whom that high praise was somewhat chastened by 
 an affected austerity in dress and manners, allied to those Pha- 
 risees of old, who made broad their phylacteries, and would be 
 seen of men to fast, and to discharge with rigid punctually the 
 observances of the law. Their dress was almost uniformly a black 
 cloak and doublet, cut straight and close, and undecoraled with 
 lace or embroidery of any kind, black Flemish breeches and hose, 
 square-toed shoes, with large roses made of serge ribbon. Two or 
 three had huge loose boots of calf-leather, and almost every one 
 was begirt with a long rapier, which was suspended by leathern 
 thongs, to a plain belt of buff, or of black leather. One or two of 
 the elder guests, whose hair had been thinned by lime, had their 
 heads covered with a skullcap of black silk or velvet, which, being 
 drawn down betwixt the ears and the skull, and permitting no hair 
 to escape, occasioned the former to project in the ungraceful 
 manner which may be remarked in old pictures, and which pro- 
 cured for the Puritans the term of " prickeared Roundheads," so 
 unceremoniously applied to them by their contemporaries. 
 
 These worthies were ranged against the wall, each in his ancient, 
 high-backed, long-legged chair- neither looking towards, nor ap- 
 parently discoursing with each other ; but plunged in their own 
 reflections, or awaiting, like an assembly of Quakers, the quicken- 
 ing power of divine inspiration. 
 
 Major Bridgenorth glided along this formal society with noise- 
 less step, and a composed severity of manner, resembling their 
 own. He paused before each in succession, and apparently com- 
 municated, as he passed, the transactions of the evening, and the 
 circumstances under which the heir of Marlindale Castle was now 
 a guest atMoultrassie-Hall. Each seemed to stir at his brief detail, 
 like a range of statues in an enchanted hall, starting into some- 
 thing like life, as a talisman is applied to them successively. Most 
 of them, as they heard the narrative of their host, cast upon Julian 
 a look of curiosity, blended with haughty scorn and the con- 
 sciousness of spiritual superiority : though, in one or two instances, 
 the milder influences of compassion were sufficiently visible. — 
 Peveril would have undergone this gauntlet of eyes with more im- 
 patience, had not his own been for the time engaged in following 
 the motions of Alice, who glided through the apartment; and only 
 speaking very briefly, and in whispers, to one or two of the com- 
 
282 PEVRRIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 pany who addressed her, look her place beside a Ireble-hooded old 
 lady, the only female of the party, and addressed herself to her in 
 such earnest conversation, as might dispense with her raising her 
 head, or looking at any others in the company. 
 
 Her father put a question, to which she was obliged to return an 
 answer — " Where was Mistress Debbitch?" 
 
 " She had gone out," Alice replied, " early after sunset to visit 
 some old acquaintances in the neighbourhood, and she had not yet 
 returned.'* 
 
 Major Bridgenorth made a gesture indicative of displeasure 5 and, 
 not content with that, expressed his determined resolution that 
 Dame Deborah should no longer remain a member of his family. 
 '* I will have those," he said aloud, and without regarding the pre- 
 sence of his guests, '' and those only, around me, who know to 
 keep within the sober and modest bounds of a Christian family. 
 Who pretends to more freedom, must go out from among us, as 
 not being of us." 
 
 A deep and emphatic humming noise, which was at that lime 
 the mode in which ihe Puritans signified their applause, as well of 
 the doctrines expressed by a favourite divine in the pulpit, as of 
 those delivered in private society, ratified the approbation of the 
 assessors, and seemed to secure the dismission of Ihe unfortunate 
 governante, who stood thus detected of having strayed out of 
 bounds. Even Peveril, although he had reaped considerable ad- 
 vantages, in his early acquaintance with Alice, from the mercenary 
 and gossiping disposition of her governess, could not hear of her 
 dismissal without approbation, so much was he desirous, that in 
 the hour of difficulty, which might soon approach, AHce might 
 have the benefit of countenance and advice from one of her own sex, 
 of better manners, and less suspicious probity, than M^istress 
 Debbitch. 
 
 Almost immediately after this communication had taken place, 
 a servant in mourning showed his thin, pinched, and wrinkled vi- 
 sage in the apartment, announcing, with a voice more like a pass- 
 ing bell than the herald of a banquet, that refreshments were pro- 
 vided in an adjoining apartment. Gravely leading the way, with 
 his daughter on one side, and the puritanical female whom we 
 have distinguished on the other, Bridgenorth himself ushered his 
 company, who followed, with little attention to order or ceremony, 
 into the eating-room, where a subslanlial supper was provided. 
 
 In this manner, Peveril, although entitled, according to ordi- 
 nary ceremonial, to some degree of precedence — a matter at that 
 time considered of much importance, although now little regarded 
 —was left among the last of those who quitted the parlour ; and 
 might indeed have brought up the rear of all, had not one of the 
 company, who was himself late in the retreat, bowed and resigned 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 283 
 
 to Julian the f ank in the company which had been usurped by 
 others. 
 
 This act of politeness naturally induced Julian to examine the 
 features of the person who had offered him this civility; and he 
 started to observe, under the pinched velvet cap, and above the 
 short band-slrings, the countenance of Ganlesse, as he called him- 
 self — his companion on the preceding evening. He looked again 
 and again, especially when all were placed at the supper board, 
 and when, consequently, he had frequent opportunities of observ- 
 ing Ihis person fixedly, without any breach of good manners. At 
 first he wavered in his belief, and was much inclined to doubt the 
 reality of his recollection \ for the difference of dress was such as 
 to effect a considerable change of appearance ; and the countenance 
 itself , far from exhibiting any thing marked or memorable, was one 
 of those ordinary visages which we see almost without remarking 
 them, and which leave our memory so soon as the object is with- 
 drawn from our eyes. But the impression upon his mind returned 
 and became slronger, until it induced him to watch with peculiar 
 attention the manners of the individual who had thus attracted his 
 notice. 
 
 During the lime of a very prolonged grace before meat, which 
 was delivered by one of the company — who, from his Geneva band 
 and serge doublet, presided, as Julian supposed, over some dis- 
 senting congregation — he noticed that this man kept the same de- 
 mure and severe cast of countenance usually affected by the Puri- 
 tans, and which rather caricatured the reverence unquestionably 
 due upon such occasions. His eyes were turned upward, and his 
 huge penthouse hat, with a high crown and broad brim, held in 
 both hands before him, rose and fell with the cadences of the 
 speaker's voice ; thus marking time, as it were, to the periods of 
 the benediction. Yet when the slight bustle took place which at- 
 tends the adjusting of chairs, etc., as men sit down to table, Ju- 
 lian's eye encountered that of the stranger •, and as their looks met, 
 there glanced from those of the latter, an expression of satirical 
 humour and scorn, which seemed to intimate internal ridicule of 
 the gravity of his present demeanour. 
 
 Julian again sought to fix his eye, in order to ascertain Ihat he 
 had not mistaken the tendency of this transient expression, but the 
 stranger did not allow him another opportunity. He might have 
 been discovered by the tone of his voice ; but the individual in 
 question spoke little, and in whispers, which was indeed the fashion 
 of the whole company, whose demeanour at table resembled that of 
 mourners at a funeral feast. 
 
 The entertainment itself was coarse, though plentiful 5 and must, 
 according to Julian's opinion, be distasteful to one so exquisitely 
 skilled in good cheer, and so capable of enjoying, critically and 
 
284 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 scientifically, the genial preparations of his companion, Smith, as 
 Ganlesse had shown himself Ihe preceding evening. Accordingly, 
 upon close observation, he remarked that the food which he took 
 upon his plate, remained there unconsumed ^ and that his actual 
 supper consisted only of a crust of bread with a glass of wine. 
 
 The repast was hurried over with the haste of those who think it 
 shame, if not sin, to make mere animal enjoyments the means of 
 consuming time or of receiving pleasure \ and when the men wiped 
 their mouths and mustaches, Julian remarked, that the object of 
 his curiosity used a handkerchief of the finest cambric — an article 
 rather inconsistent with tlie exterior plainness, not to say coarse- 
 ness, of his appearance. He used also several of the more minute 
 refinements, then only observed at tables of the higher rank : and 
 Julian thought he could discern, at every turn, something of 
 courtly manners and gestures, under the precise and rustic simpli- 
 city of the character which he had assumed '. 
 
 But if this were indeed that same Ganlesse with whom Julian had 
 met on the preceding evening, and who had boasted the facility with 
 which he could assume any character which he pleased to represent 
 for the time, what could be the purpose of his present disguise ? 
 He was, if his own words could be credited, a person of some 
 importance, who dared to defy the danger of those officers and in- 
 formers, before whom all ranks at that time trembled ^ nor was he 
 likely, as Julian conceived, without some strong -purpose, to sub- 
 ject himself to such a masquerade as the present, which could not be 
 otherwise than irksome to one whose conversation proclaimed him of 
 light life and free opinions. Was his appearance here for good or 
 for evil? Did it respect his father's house, or his own person, or the 
 family of Bridgenorth ? Was the real character of Ganlesse known 
 to the master of the house, inflexible as he was in all which con- 
 cerned morals as well as religion ? If not, might not the machina- 
 tions of a brain so subtle, affect the peace and happiness of Alice 
 Bridgenorth ? 
 
 These were questions which no reflection could enable Peveril 
 to answer. His eyes glanced from Alice to the stranger ^ and new 
 fears, and undefined suspicions, in which the safety of that beloved 
 and lovely girl was implicated, mingled with the deep anxiety which 
 already occupied his mind, on account of his father, and his father's 
 house. 
 
 He was in this tumult of mind, when, after a thanksgiving as 
 long as the grace, the company arose from table, and were in- 
 stantly summoned to the exercise of family worship. A train of do- 
 mestics, grave, sad, and melancholy as their superiors, glided in lo 
 
 • A Scollish gentleman in hiding, as it was emphatically termed, for some concern in 
 .1 Jacobite insurrection or plot, was discovered ai^ong a number of ordinary persons, by 
 Vhe use of his toothpick. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 285 
 
 assist at this act of devotion, and ranged themselves at the lower 
 end of the apartment. Most of these men were armed with long 
 tucks, as (he straight stabbing swords, much used by Cromwell's 
 soldiery, were then called. Several had large pistols also^ and the 
 corslets or cuirasses of some were heard to clank, as they scaled 
 themselves to partake in this act of devotion. The ministry of him 
 whom Julian had supposed a preacher, was not used on this occa- 
 sion. Major Bridgenorth himself read and expounded a chapter of 
 Scripture, with much strength and manliness of expression, al- 
 though so as not to escape the charge of fanaticism. The nine- 
 teenth chapter of Jeremiah was the portion of Scripture which he 
 selected^ in which, under the type of breaking a potter's vessel, 
 the prophet presages the desolation of the Jews. The lecturer was 
 not naturally eloquent; but a strong, deep, and sincere conviction 
 of the truth of what he said, supplied him with language of energy 
 and fire, as he drew a parallel between the abominations of the 
 worship of Baal, and the corruptions of the Church of Rome — so 
 favourite a topic with the Puritans of that period; and denounced 
 against the Catholics, and those who favoured them, that hissing 
 and desolation which the prophet directed against the city of Jeru- 
 salem. His hearers made a yet closer application than the lecturer 
 himself suggested ; and many a dark proud eye intimated, by a 
 glance on Julian, that on his father's house were already, in some 
 part, realized those dreadful maledictions. 
 
 The lecture finished, Bridgenorth summoned them to unite with 
 him in prayer; and on a slight change of arrangements amongst the 
 company, which took place as they were about to kneel down, 
 Julian found his place next to the single-minded and beautiful object 
 of his atTeclion, as she knelt, in her loveliness, to adore her Crea- 
 tor. A short time was permitted for menial devotion ; during which, 
 Peveril could hear her half-breathed petition for the promised 
 blessings of peace on earth, and good-will towards the children 
 of men. 
 
 The prayer which ensued was in a different tone. It was poured 
 forth by the same person who had officiated as chaplain at the table ; 
 and was in the tone of a Boanerges, or Son of Thunder — a denouncer 
 of crimes — an invoker of judgmenis— almost a prophet of evil and 
 of destruction. The testimonies and the sins of the day were not 
 forgotten — the mysterious murder of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey 
 was insisted upon — and thanks and praise were offered, that the very 
 night on which they were assembled, had not seen another offering 
 of a Protestant magistrate, to the blood-thirsty fury of the revengeful 
 (Catholics. 
 
 Never had Julian found it more diificult, during an act of devotion, 
 to maintain his mind in a frame befitting the posture and the occasion; 
 and when he heard the speaker return thanlts for the downfall and 
 
286 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 devastation of his family, he was strongly tempted to have started 
 upon his feet, and charged him with otTering a tribute, stained with 
 falsehood and calumny, at the throne of truth itself. He resisted, 
 however, an impulse which it would have been insanity to have 
 yielded to, and his patience was not without its reward-, for when 
 his fair neighbour arose from her knees, the lengthened and pro- 
 longed prayer being at last concluded, he observed that her eyes 
 were streaming with tears ^ and one glance with which she looked at 
 him in that moment, showed more of afTectionate interest for him 
 in his fallen fortunes and precarious condition, than he had been 
 able to obtain from her when his worldly estate seemed so much 
 the more exalted of the two. 
 
 Cheered and fortified with the conviction that one bosom in the 
 company, and that in which he most eagerly longed to secure an 
 interest, sympathized with his distress, he felt strong to endure 
 whatever was to follow, and shrunk not from the stern still smile with 
 which, one by one, the meeting regarded him, as, gliding to their 
 several places of repose, they indulged themselves at parting with 
 a look of triumph on one, whom they considered as their captive 
 enemy. 
 
 Alice also passed by her lover, her eyes fixed on the ground, and 
 answered his low obeisance without raising them. The room was 
 now empty, but for Bridgenorth and his guest, or prisoner^ for it 
 is difficult to say in which capacity Peveril ought to regard himself. 
 He took an old brazen lamp from the table, and, leading the way, 
 said, at the same time, *' I must be the uncourtly chamberlain, who 
 am to usher you to a place of repose, more rude, perhaps, than you 
 have been accustomed to occupy." 
 
 Julian followed him, in silence, up an old-fashioned winding 
 staircase, within a turret. At the landing-place on the top, was a 
 small apartment, where an ordinary pallet-bed, two chairs, and a 
 small stone table, were the only furniture. "Your bed," continued 
 Bridgenorth, as if desirous to prolong their interview, " is not of 
 the softest-, but innocence sleeps as sound upon straw as on down." 
 
 *' Sorrow, Major Bridgenorth, finds little rest on either," replied 
 Julian. "Tell me, for you seem to await some question from me, 
 what is to be the fate of my parents, and why you separate me 
 from them?'* 
 
 Bridgenorth, for answer, indicated with his finger the mark 
 which his countenance still showed from the explosion of Julian's 
 pistol. 
 
 ' ' That," replied Julian, ' ' is not the real cause of your proceedings 
 against me. It cannot be, that you, who have been a soldier, and 
 are a man, can be surprised or displeased by my interference in the 
 defence of my father. Above all, you cannot, and I must needs say 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 287 
 
 you do nol, believe that I would have raised my hand against you 
 personally, had there been a moment's time for recognition." 
 
 " I may grant all this," said Bridgenorth ^ " but what the belter 
 are you for my good opinion, or for the ease with which I can forgive 
 you the injury which you aimed at me? You are in my custody as a 
 magistrate, accused of abetting the foul, bloody, and healhenish 
 plot, for the establishment of Popery, the murder of the King, and 
 the general massacre of all true Protestants." 
 
 •' And on what grounds, either of fact or suspicion, dare any one 
 accuse me of such a crime?" said Julian. " I have hardly heard of 
 the plot, save by the mouth of common rumour, which, while 
 it speaks of nothing else, takes care to say nothing distinctly even 
 on that subject." 
 
 *'Il may be enough for me to tell you," replied Bridgenorth, 
 " and perhaps it is a word too much — that you are a discovered 
 intriguer — a spied spy - who carries tokens and messages betwixt 
 the Popish Countess of Derby, and the Catholic parly in London. 
 You have not conducted your matters with such discrelion, but that 
 this is well known, and can be sufficiently proved. To this charge, 
 which you are well aware you cannot deny, these men, Everett and 
 Dangertield, are not unwilling to add, from the recollection of your 
 face, other passages, which will certainly cost you your life when 
 you come before a Protestant jury." 
 
 \' They lie like villains," said Peveril, " who hold me accessory 
 to any plot either against the King, the nation, or the stale of 
 religion-, and for the Countess, her loyally has been too long, and 
 too highly proved, to permit her being implicaledin such injurious 
 suspicions." 
 
 " What she has already done," said Bridgenorth, his face 
 darkening as he spoke, "against the faithful champions of pure 
 religion, hath sufficiently shown of what she is capable. She halh 
 betaken herself to her rock, and sits, as she thinks, in security, 
 like the eagle reposing after his bloody banquet. But the arrow 
 of the fowler may yet reach her — the shaft is whetted — the bow is 
 bended — and it will be soon seen whether Amalek or Israel shall 
 prevail. But for thee, Julian Peveril — why should I conceal it 
 from Ihee? — my heart yearns for thee as a woman's for her first- 
 born. To thee I will give, at the expense of my own reputation 
 ' — perhaps at the risk of personal suspicion — for who, in these 
 days of doubt, shall be exempted from it — to thee, I say, I will 
 give means of escape, which else were impossible to thee. The 
 staircase of this turret descends to the gardens — the postern-gale 
 is unlatched — on the right hand lie the stables, where you will find 
 your own horse — take it, and make for Liverpool — I will give you 
 credit with a friend under the name of Simon Simonson, one per- 
 
288 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 seculed by Ihe prelates ^ and he will expedite your passage from the 
 kingdom." 
 
 "Major Bridgenorlh," said Julian, *' I will not deceive you. Were 
 I to accept your offer of freedom, it would be to attend to a higher 
 call than that of mere self-preservation. My father is in danger — my 
 mother in sorrow— the voices of religion and nature call me to their 
 side. I am their only child — their only hope — I will aid them, or 
 perish with Ihem!" 
 
 " Thou art mad," said Bridgenorth — " aid them thou canst not — 
 perish with them thou well mayst, and even accelerate their ruin ; 
 for, in addition to the charges with which thy unhappy fattier is 
 loaded, it would be no slight aggravation, that while he meditated 
 arming and calling together the Catholics and High Churchmen of 
 Cheshire and Derbyshire, his son should prove to be the confidential 
 agent of the Countess of Derby, who aided her in making good 
 her stronghold against the Protestant commissioners, and was 
 dispatched by her to open secret communication with the Popish 
 interest in London." 
 
 " You have twice stated me as such an agent," said Peverii, re- 
 solved that his silence should not be construed into an admission of 
 the charge, though he felt that it was in some degree well founded — 
 " What reason have you for such an allegation ?" 
 
 ''Will it suffice for a proof of my intimate acquaintance with your 
 mystery," replied Bridgenorth, "if I should repeat to you the last 
 words which the Countess used to you when you left the Caslle of 
 that Amalekitish woman? Thus she spoke : 'I am now a forlorn 
 widow,' she said, 'whom sorrow has made selfish.'" 
 
 Peverii started, for these were the very words the Countess had 
 used^ but he instantly recovered himself, and replied, "Be your 
 information of what nature it will, 1 deny, and I defy it, so far as 
 it attaches aught like guilt to me. There lives not a man more 
 innocent of a disloyal thought, or of a traitorous purpose. What 
 I say for myself, I will, to the best of my knowledge, say and 
 maintain on account of the noble Countess, to whom I am indebted 
 for nurture." 
 
 " Perish, then, in thy obstinacy !" said Bridgenorth 5 and turning 
 hastily from him, he left the room, and Julian heard him hasten 
 down the narrow staircase, as if distrusting his own resolution. 
 
 With a heavy heart, yet with that confidence in an overruling 
 Providence which never forsakes a good and brave man, Peverii 
 betook himself to his lowly place of repose. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 289 
 
 •/^ CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The course of human life is changeful still, 
 
 As is the flckle wind and wandering rill ; 
 
 Or, like the light dance which the wild-breeze weaves 
 
 Amidst the faded race of fallen leaves ; 
 
 "Which now its brealh bears down, now tosses high, 
 
 Beats to the earth, or wafts to middle sky. 
 
 Such, and so varied, the precarious play 
 
 Of fate with man, frail tenant of a day : 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Whilst, overcome with fatigue, and worn oul by anxiety, Ju- 
 lian Peverii slumbered as a prisoner in the house of his hereditary 
 enemy. Fortune was preparing his release by one of those sudden 
 frolics with which she loves to confound the calculations and ex- 
 pectancies of humanity ; and as she fixes on strange agents for such 
 purposes, she condescended to employ, on the present occasion, no 
 less a personage than Mistress Deborah Debbitch. 
 
 Instigated, doubtless, by the pristine reminiscences of former 
 times, no sooner had that most prudent and considerate dame found 
 herself in the vicinity of the scenes of her earlier days, than she be- 
 thought herself of a visit to the ancient housekeeper of Martindale 
 Castle, Dame EUesmere by name, who, long retired from active 
 service, resided at the keeper's lodge, in the west thicket, with her 
 nephew, Lance Oulram, subsisting upon the savings of her belter 
 days, and on a small pension allowed by Sir Geoffrey to her age and 
 faithful services. 
 
 Now, Dame EUesmere and Mistress Deberah had not by any 
 means been formerly on so friendly a fooling, as this haste to visit 
 her might be supposed to intimate. But years had taught Deborah 
 to forget and forgive •, or perhaps she had no special objection, un- 
 der cover of a visit to Dame EUesmere, to take the chance of seeing 
 what changes time had made on her old admirer the keeper. Both 
 inhabitants were in the cottage, when, after having seen her master 
 set forth on his expedition to the Castle, Mistress Debbitch, dressed 
 in her very best gown, footed it through gutter, and over stile, and 
 by pathway green, to knock at their door, and to lift the latch at the 
 hospitable invitation which bade her come in. 
 
 Dame EUesmere's eyes were so dim, that, even with the aid of 
 spectacles, she failed to recognise, in the portly and mature per- 
 sonage who entered their cottage, the tight well-made lass, who, 
 presuming on her good looks and flippant tongue, had so often pro- 
 voked her by insubordination 5 and her former lover, the redoubled 
 Lance, not being conscious that ale had given rotundity to his own 
 figure, which was formerlv so light and active, and thai brandy had 
 
 19 
 
290 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 transferred to his nose the colour which had once occupied his 
 cheeks, was unable to discover that Deborah's French cap, composed 
 of sarsenet and Brussels lace, shaded the features which had,,s« often 
 procured him a rebuke from Dr. Dummerar for suffering his eyes, 
 during the time of prayers, to wander to the maid-servants' bench. 
 In brief, the blushing visiter was compelled to make herself 
 known; and when known, was received by aunt and nephew with 
 the most sincere cordiality. 
 
 The home-brewed was produced; and, in lieu of more vulgar 
 food, a few slicesof venison presently hissed in the frying-pan, giving 
 strongroom for inference that Lance Outram, in his capacity of 
 keeper, neglected not his own cottage when he supplied the larder 
 at the Castle. A modest sip of the excellent Derbyshire ale, and a 
 taste of the highly-seasoned hash, soon placed Deborah entirely at 
 home with her old acquaintance. 
 
 Having put all necessary questions, and received all suitable an- 
 swers, respecting the state of the neighbourhood, and such of her 
 own friends as continued to reside there, the conversation began 
 rather to flag, until Deborah found the art of again renewing its in- 
 terest, by communicating to her friends the dismal intelligence that 
 they must soon look for deadly bad news from the Castle ; for that 
 her present master. Major Bridgenorlh, had been summoned, by 
 some great people from London, to assist in taking her old master. 
 Sir Geoffrey •, and that all Master Bridgenorlh's servants, and se- 
 veral other persons whom she named, friends and adherents of the 
 same interest, had assembled a force to surprise the Castle ; and that 
 as Sir Geoffrey was now so old, and gouty withal, it could not be 
 expected he should make the defence he was wont ; and then he 
 was known to be so stout-hearted, that it was not to be supposed 
 that he would yield up without stroke of sword; and then if he was 
 killed, as he was like to be, amongst them that liked never a bone 
 of his body, and now had him at their mercy, why, in that case, she, 
 Dame Deborah, would look upon Lady Peverilas little belter than 
 a dead woman ; and undoubtedly there would be a general mourning 
 through all that country, where they had such great kin; and silks 
 were likely to rise on it, as Master Lutestring, the mercer of Chester- 
 field, was like to feel in his purse bottom. But for her part, let 
 matters wag how they would, an if Master Julian Peveril was to 
 come to his own, she could give as near a guess as e'er another who 
 was likely to be Lady at Marlindale. 
 
 The text of this lecture, or, in other words, the fact that Bridge- 
 north was gone with a pirly to attack Sir Geoffrey Peveril in his 
 own Castle of Martindale, sounded so stunningly strange in the ears 
 of those old retainers of his family, that they had no power either to 
 attend to Mistress Deborah's inferences, or to interrupt the velocity 
 of speech with which she poured them forth. And when at length 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 291 
 
 she made a breathless pause, all (hat poor Dame Ellesmere could 
 reply, was the emphatic question, " Bridgenorth brave Peveril of 
 the Peak! — Is Ihe woman mad?" 
 
 " Come, come, dame," said Deborah, '' woman me no more than 
 I woman you. I have not been called Mistress at the head of the 
 table for so many years, to be woman'd here by you. And for the 
 news, it is as true as that you are silting there in a white hood, who 
 will wear a black one ere long." 
 
 " Lance Outram," said the old woman, " make out, if thou be'st 
 a man, and listen about if aught stirs up at the Castle." 
 
 " If there should," said Outram, '' I am even too long here 5 " 
 and he caught up his cross-bow, and one or two arrows, and rushed 
 out of the collage. 
 
 " Well-a-day ! " said Mistress Deborah, " see if my news have 
 not frighlened away Lance Oulram too, whom they used to say no- 
 thing could slart. But do not take on so, dame ; for I dare say if the 
 Castle and the lands pass lo my new master. Major Bridgenorlh, as 
 it is like Ihey will — for I have heard that he has powerful debts over 
 the estate — you shall have my good word with him, and I promise 
 you he is no bad man ; something precise about preaching and 
 praying, and about the dress which one should wear, which, I must 
 own, beseems not a gentleman, as, lobe sure, every woman knows 
 best what becomes her. But for you, dame, that wear a prayer 
 book at your girdle, with your housewife-case, and never change 
 the fashion of your while hood, I dare say he will not grudge you 
 the lillle matter you need, and are notable to win." 
 
 '•' Out, sordid jade! " exclaimed Dame Ellesmere, her very flesh 
 quivering betwixt apprehension and anger, '' and hold your peace 
 this instant, or I will find those that shall flay the very hide from 
 thee wilh dog-whips. Hast thou eat thy noble master's bread, not 
 only lo betray his trusty and fly from his service, but wouldst thou 
 come here, like an ill-omened bird as thou art, to triumph over his 
 downfall?" 
 
 *' Nay, dame," said Deborah, over whom the violence of the old 
 woman had obtained a certain predominance ; " it is not I that say 
 it — only the warrant of the Parliament folks." 
 
 "I thought we had done with their warrants ever since the 
 blessed twenty-ninth of May," said the old housekeeper of Martin- 
 dale Castle ; "but this I tell thee, sweetheart, that I have seen such 
 warrants crammed, at the sword's point, down the throats of them 
 thai brought them ; and so shall this be, if there is one true man left 
 to drink of the Dove." 
 
 As she spoke, Lance Outram re-entered the cottage. ** Naunl," 
 he said in dismay, " I doubt it is true what she says. The beacon 
 tower is as black as my belt. No Pole-star of Peveril. What does 
 thai betoken?" 
 
292 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " Death, ruin, and captivity," exclaimed old Ellesmere. "- Make 
 for the Castle, thou knave. Thrust in thy great body. Strike for the 
 house that bred thee and fed thee ; and if thou art buried under the 
 ruins, thou diesta man's death." 
 
 " Nay, naunt, I shall not be slack," answered Oulram. "But 
 here come folks that I warrant can tell us more on't." 
 
 One or two of the female servants, who had fled from the Castle 
 during Ihe alarm, now rushed in with various reports of the case •, 
 but all agreeing that a body of armed men were in possession of the 
 Castle, and that Major Bridgenorth had taken young Master Julian 
 prisoner, and conveyed him down to Moultrassie-Hall, with his feet 
 tied under the belly of the nag — a shameful sight to be seen — and 
 he so well born and so handsome. 
 
 Lance scratched his head ; and though feeling the duty incumbent 
 upon him as a faithful servant, which was indeed specially dinned 
 into him by the cries and exclamations of his aunt, he seemed not a 
 little dubious how to conduct himself. " I would to God, naunt," 
 he said at last, '^ that old Whitaker were alive now, with his long 
 stories about Marston-moor and Edge-hill, that made us all yawn 
 our jaws off their hinges, in spile of broiled rashers and double- 
 beer! When a man is missed, he is moaned, as they say, and I 
 would rather than a broad-piece he had been here to have sorted 
 this matter, for it is clean out of my way as a woodsman, that have 
 no skill of war. But dang it, if old Sir Geoffrey go to the wall with- 
 out a knock for it ! — Here you, Nell " — ( speaking to one of the 
 fugitive maidens from the Castle) — " but, no — you have not the 
 heart of a cat, and are afraid of your own shadow by moonlight- 
 But, Cis, you are a stout-hearted wench, and know a buck from a 
 bullfinch. Hark thee, Cis, as you would wish to be married, get 
 up to the Castle again, and gel thee in^ — thou best knowest where — 
 for thou hast oft gotten out of postern to a dance, or junketing, to 
 my knowledge — Get thee back to the Castle, as ye hope to be married 
 — See my lady — they cannot hinder thee of that — my lady has a 
 head worth twenty of ours — If I am to gather force, light up the 
 beacon for a signal •, and spare not a tar barrel on't. Thou mayst do 
 it safe enough. I warrant the Roundheads busy with drink and 
 plunder. — And, hark thee, say to my lady I am gone down to the 
 miners' houses at Bonadvenlure. The rogues were mutinying for 
 their wages but yesterday \ Ihey will be all ready for good or bad. 
 Let her send orders down to me \ or do you come yourself, your 
 legs are long enough." 
 
 " Whether they are or nol, Master Lance (and you know nothing 
 of the matter), they shall do your errand to-night, for love of the 
 old Knight and his lady." 
 
 So Cisly Scllok, a kind of Derbyshire Camilla, who had won the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 293 
 
 smock at the foot-race at Ashbourne, sprung forward towards the 
 Castle, with a speed which few could have equalled. 
 
 '' There goes a mettled wench," said Lance j '' and now, naunt, 
 give me the old broadsword — it is above the bed- head — and my 
 wood-knife; and I shall do well enough." 
 
 "And what is to become of me?" bleated the unfortunate Mis- 
 tress Deborah Debbitch. 
 
 "You must remain here with my aunt. Mistress Deb; and, for 
 old acquaintance' sake, she will take care no harm befalls you-, but 
 lake heed how you attempt to break bounds." 
 
 So saying, and pondering in his own mind the task which he 
 had undertaken, the hardy forester strode down the moonlight 
 glade, scarcely hearing the blessings and cautions which Dame 
 Ellesmere kept showering after him. His thoughts were not alto- 
 gether warlike. "What a tight ankle the jade hath! she trips it 
 like a doe in summer over the dew. Well, but here are the huts- 
 Let us to this gear. — Are ye all asleep, ye dammers, sinkers, and 
 drift-drivers? turn out, ye subterranean badgers. Here is your 
 master. Sir Geoffrey, dead, for aught you know or care. Do not 
 you see the beacon is unlit, and you sit there like so many asses?" 
 
 "Why," answered one of the miners, who now began to come 
 out of their huts, 
 
 '* An he be dead, 
 He will eat no more bread." 
 
 "And you are like to eat none either," said Lance; "for the 
 works will be presently stopped, and all of you turned off." 
 
 "Well, and what of it. Master Lance? As good play for nought 
 as work for nought. Here is four weeks we have scarce seen the 
 colour of Sir Geoffrey's coin ; and you ask us to care whether he 
 be dead or in life I For you, that goes about, trotting upon your 
 horse, and doing for work what all men do for pleasure, it may be 
 well enough ; but it is another matter to be leaving God's light, and 
 burrowing all day and night in darkness, like a toad in a hole — 
 that's not to be done for nought, I trow ; and if Sir Geoffrey is dead, 
 his soul will suffer for't ; and if he's alive, we'll have him in the 
 Barmoot Court." 
 
 " Hark ye, gaffer," said Lance, " and take notice, my mates, all 
 of you," for a considerable number of these rude and subterranean 
 people had now assembled to hear the discussion—" Has Sir Geof 
 frey, think you, ever put a penny in his pouch out of this same 
 Bonadventure mine?" 
 
 "I cannot say as I think he has,'* answered old Ditchley, the 
 parly who maintained the controversy. 
 
 " Answer on your conscience, though it be a leaden one. Do not 
 you know that he hath lost a good penny?" 
 
294 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 "Why, I believe he may," said Gaffer Ditchley. " What Ihen? 
 —lose to-day, win to-morrow— the miner must eat in the mean- 
 time." 
 
 "True; but what will you eat when Master Bridgenorlh gets 
 the land, that will not hear of a mine being wrought on his own 
 ground ? Will he work on at dead loss, think ye? ' demanded trusty 
 Lance. 
 
 "Bridgenorth? — he of Moultrassie-Hall, that stopped the great 
 Felicity Work, on which his father laid out, some say, ten thou- 
 sand pounds, and never got in a penny? Why, what has he to do 
 with Sir Geoffrey's property down here at Bonadventure? It was 
 never his, I trow." 
 
 " Nay, what do I know?" answered Lance, who saw the impres- 
 sion he had made. "Law and debt will give him half Derbyshire, 
 I think, unless you stand by old Sir Geoffrey." 
 
 " But if Sir Geoffrey be dead," said Ditchley, cautiously, " what 
 good will our standing by do to him ?" 
 
 "I did not say he was dead, but only as bad as dead; in the 
 hands of the Roundheads — a prisoner up yonder, at his own castle," 
 said Lance •, " and will have his head cut off, like the good Earl of 
 Derby's, at Bolton-le-Moors." 
 
 "Nay, then, comrades," said Gaffer Ditchley, "an it be as 
 Master Lance says, I think we should bear a hand for stout old Sir 
 Geoffrey, against a low-born mean-spirited fellow like Bridgenorth, 
 who shut up a shaft had cost thousands without getting a penny 
 profit on't. So hurra for Sir Geoffrey, and down with the Rump I 
 But, hold ye a bhnk— hold"— (and the waving of his hand slopped 
 the commencing cheer) — " Hark ye, Master Lance, it must be all 
 over, for the beacon is as black as night; and you know yourself 
 that marks the Lord's death." 
 
 "It will kindle again in an instant," said Lance; internally 
 adding, " I pray to God it may ! — It will kindle in an instant — lack 
 of fuel, and the confusion of the family." 
 
 "Ay, like enow, like enow," said Ditchley ; " but I winna budge 
 till I see it blazing." 
 
 "Why then, there a goes!" said Lance. " Thank thee, Cis — 
 thank thee, my good wench. — Believe your own eyes, my lads, if 
 you will not believe me ; and now hurra for Peveril of the Peak — 
 the King and his friends — and down with Rumps and Roundheads !" 
 
 The sudden rekindling of the beacon had all the effect which 
 Lance could have desired upon the minds of his rude and ignorant 
 hearers, who, in their superstitious humour, had strongly asso- 
 ciated the Polar-star of Peveril with the fortunes of the family. 
 Once moved, according to the national character of their country- 
 men, Ihcy soon became enthusiastic ; and Lance found himself at 
 the head of thirty stout fellows and upwards, armed with their 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 295 
 
 pick-axes, and ready lo execute whatever task he should impose 
 on them. 
 
 Trusting to enter the Castle by the postern, which had served to 
 accommodate himself and other domestics upon an emergency, his 
 only anxiety was to keep his march silent; and he earnestly recom- 
 mended to his followers to reserve their shouts for the moment of 
 the attack. They had not advanced far on their road to the Castle, 
 when Cisly Sellok met them, so breathless with haste, that the poor 
 girl was obliged to throw herself into Master Lance's arms. 
 
 "Stand up, my mettled wench," said he, giving her a sly kiss 
 at the same time, "and let us know what is going on up at the 
 Castle." 
 
 "My lady bids you, as you would serve God and your master, 
 not to come up to the Castle, which can bu^ make bloodshed ; for 
 she says Sir GeolTrey is lawfully in hand, and that he must bide 
 the issue-, and that he is innocent of what he is charged with, and 
 is going up to speak for himself before King and Council, and she 
 goes up with him. And besides, they have found out the postern, 
 the roundhead rogues •, for two of them saw me when 1 went out of 
 door, and chased me-, but I showed them a fair pair of heels." 
 
 " As ever dashed dew from the cowslip," said Lance. " But what 
 the foul fiend is to be done? for if they have secured the postern, 
 I know not how the dickens we can get in." 
 
 " All is fastened with bolt and slaple, and guarded with gun and 
 pistol, at the Caslle," quolh Cisly; and so sharp are they, that they 
 nigh caught me coming with my lady's message, as I told you. But 
 my lady says, if you could deliver her son. Master Julian, from 
 Bridgenorth, that she would hold it good service." 
 
 " What!" said Lance, " is young master at the Castle? I taught 
 bim to shoot his first shaft. But how to get in I" 
 
 " He was at the Castle in the midst of the rufHe, but old Bridge- 
 north has carried him down prisoner to the Hall," answered Cisly. 
 " There was never faith nor courtesy in an old Puritan, who never 
 had pipe and labor in his house since it was built." 
 
 " Or who stopped a promising mine," said Ditchley, " to save 
 a few thousand pounds, when he might have made himself as rich 
 as the Lord of Chalsworlh and fed a hundred good fellows all the 
 whilst." 
 
 "Why, then," said Lance, "since you are all of a mind, we 
 will go draw the cover for the old badger; and I promise you that 
 the Hall is not like one of your real houses of quality, where the 
 walls are as thick as whinstone-dikes, but foolish brickwork, that 
 your pick-axes will work through as if it were cheese. Huzza once 
 more for Peveril of the Peak! down with Bridgenorth, and all up- 
 start cuckoldy Roundheads I" 
 
 Having indulged the throats of his followers with one buxom 
 
296 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK- 
 
 huzza, Lance commanded Ihem to cease their clamours, and pro- 
 ceeded to conduct them, by such paths as seemed the least likely to 
 be watched, to the court-yard of Moultrassie-Hall. On the road they 
 were joined by several stout yeomen farmers, either followers of 
 the Peveril family, or friends to the High Church and Cavalier 
 party ; most of whom, alarmed by the news which began to fly fast 
 through the neighbourhood, were armed with sword and pistol. 
 
 Lance Outram halted his party, at the distance, as he himself de- 
 scribed it, of a flight-shot from the house, and advanced alone, 
 and in silence, to reconnoitre •, and having previously commanded 
 Ditchley and his subterranean allies to come to his assistance when- 
 ever he should whistle, he crept cautiously forward, and soon found 
 that those whom he came to surprise, true to the discipline which 
 had gained their party such decided superiority during the Civil 
 War, had posted a sentinel, who paced through the court-yard 
 piously chanting a psalm tune, while his arms, crossed on his 
 bosom, supported a gun of formidable length. 
 
 ''Now, a true soldier," said Lance Outram to himself, '' would 
 put a stop to thy snivelling ditty, by making a broad arrow quiver 
 in your heart, and no great alarm given. But, dang it, I have not 
 the right spirit for a soldier— I cannot fight a man till my blood's 
 up ; and for shooting him from behind a wall, it is cruelly like to 
 stalking a deer. I'll e'en face him and try what to make of him." 
 
 With this doughty resolution, and taking no farther care to con- 
 ceal himself, he entered the court-yard boldly, and was making 
 forward to the front door of the Hall, as a matter of course. But 
 the old Cromwellian, who was on guard, had not so learned his 
 duty. " Who goes there?— Stand, friend — stand 5 or, verily, I will 
 shoot thee to death!" were challenges which followed each other 
 quick, the last being enforced by the levelling and presenting the 
 said long-barrelled gun with which he was armed. 
 
 " Why, what a murrain !" answered Lance. " Is it your fashion 
 to go a-shooting at this time 0' night? Why, this is but a time for 
 bat-fowling." 
 
 " Nay, but hark thee, friend," said Ihe experienced sentinel, ''I 
 am none of those who do this work negligently. Thou canst not 
 snare me with thy crafty speech, though thou wouldst make it to 
 sound simple in mine ear. Of a verity I will shoot, unless thou tell 
 thy name and business." 
 
 *'Name!" said Lance 5 '' why, what a dickens should it be but 
 Robin Round— honest Robin of Redham ; and for business, an you 
 must needs know, I come on a message from some Parliament 
 man, up yonder at the Castle, with letters for worshipful Master 
 Bridgenorth of Moultrassie-Hall ; and this be the place, as I think; 
 though why ye be marching up and down at his door, like the 
 
PEVERIL OF TFIE PEAK. 297 
 
 sign of the Red Man, with your old firelock there, T cannot so well 
 guess." 
 
 *'Give me the letters, my friend," said the sentinel, to whom this 
 explanation seemed very natural and probable, *'and I will cause 
 them forthwith to be delivered into his worship's own hand." 
 
 Rummaging in his pockets, as if to pull out the letters which 
 never existed, Master Lance approached within the sentinel's piece, 
 and, before he was aware, suddenly seized him by the collar, 
 whistled sharp and shrill, and exerting his skill as a wrestler, for 
 which he had been distinguished in his youth, he stretched his 
 antagonist on his back-^the musket for which they struggled going 
 off in the fall. 
 
 The miners rushed into the court-yard at Lance's signal : and, 
 hopeless any longer of prosecuting his design in silence, Lance 
 com.manded two of them to secure the prisoner, and the rest to 
 cheer loudly, and attack the door of the house. Instantly the court- 
 yard of the mansion rang with the cry of " Peveril of the Peak for 
 ever I" with all the abuse which the Royalists had invented to cast 
 upon the Roundheads, during so many years of contention ; and at 
 the same time, while some assailed the door with their mining 
 implements, others directed their attack against the angle, where a 
 kind of porch joined to the main front of the building; and there, 
 in some degree protected by the projection of the wall, and of a 
 balcony which overhung the porch, wrought in more security, as 
 well as with more effect, (han the others; for the doors being of 
 oak, thickly studded with nails, offered a more effectual resistance 
 to violence than the brick-work. 
 
 The noise of this hubbub on the outside, soon excited wild alarm 
 and tumult within. Lights flew from window to window, and voices 
 were heard demanding the cause of the attack 5 to which the party 
 cries of those who were in the court-yard afforded a sufficient, or 
 at least the only answer, which was vouchsafed. At length the 
 window of a projecting staircase opened, and the voice of Bridge- 
 north himself demanded authoritatively what the tumult meant, and 
 commanded the rioters to desist, upon their own proper and im- 
 mediate peril. 
 
 "We want our young master, you canting old thief," was the 
 reply; "and if we have him not instantly, the topmost stone of 
 your house shall lie as low as the foundation I " 
 
 " We will try that presently," said Bridgenorth ; " for if there 
 is another blow struck against the walls of my peaceful house, I 
 will fire my carabine among you, and your blood be upon your 
 own head. I have a score of friends, well armed with musket and 
 pistol, to defend my house; and wc have bolh the means and 
 heart, with Heaven's assistance, to repay any violence you can 
 offer." 
 
298 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 '' Master Bridgenorth," replied Lance, who, though no soldier, 
 was sportsman enough to comprehend the advantage which those 
 under cover, and using fire-arms, must necessarily have over his 
 party, exposed to their aim, in a great measure, and without means 
 of answering their fire, — " Master Bridgenorth, let us crave parley 
 with you, and fair conditions. We desire to do you no evil, but 
 will have back our young master; it is enough that you have got 
 our old one and his lady. It is foul chasing, to kill hart, hind, and 
 fawn ; and we will give you some light on the subject in an instant." 
 
 This speech was followed by a great crash amongst the lower 
 windows of the house, according to a new species of attack which 
 had been suggested by some of the assailants. 
 
 " I would take the honest fellow's word, and let young Peveril 
 go," said one of the garrison, who, carelessly yawning, approached 
 on the inside the post at which Bridgenorth had stationed himself. 
 
 " Are you mad?" said Bridgenorth ; '' or do you think me poor 
 enough in spirit to give up the advantages I now possess over the 
 family of Peveril, for the awe of a parcel of boors, whom the first 
 discharge will scatter like chaff before the whirlwind?" 
 
 " Nay," answered the speaker, who was the same individual 
 that had struck Julian by his resemblance to the man who called 
 himself Ganlesse, " Hove a dire revenge, but we shall buy it some- 
 what too dear if these rascals set the house on fire, as they are like 
 to do, while you are parleying from the window. They have 
 thrown torches or firebrands into the hall ; and it is all our friends 
 can do to keep the flame from catching the wainscoting, which is 
 old and dry." 
 
 " Now, may Heaven judge thee for thy lightness of spirit," an- 
 swered Bridgenorth-, "one would think mischief was so properly 
 thy element, that to thee it was indifferent whether friend or foe was 
 the sufferer." 
 
 So saying, he ran hastily down stairs towards the hall, into 
 which, through broken casements, and betwixt the iron bars 
 which prevented human entrance, the assailants had thrust lighted 
 straw, sufficient to excite much smoke and some fire, and to throw 
 the defenders of the house into great confusion ; insomuch, thai of 
 several shots fired hastily from the windows, Utile or no damage 
 followed to the besiegers, who, getting warm in the onset, answered 
 the hostile charges with loud shouts of " Peveril for ever ! " and 
 had already made a practicable breach through the brick-wall 
 of the tenement, through which Lance, Ditchley, and several of 
 the most adventurous among their followers, made their way into 
 the hall. 
 
 The complete capture of the house remained, however, as far 
 off as ever. The defenders *mixed with much coolness and skill, 
 that solemn and deep spirit of enthusiasm which sets life at less 
 
PEVEIIIL OF THE PEAK. 299 
 
 than nothing, in comparison to real or supposed duty. From the 
 half-opened doors which led into the hall, they maintained a fire 
 which began to grow fatal. One miner was shot dead ; three or four 
 were wounded^ and Lance scarce knew whether he should draw 
 his forces from the house, and leave it a prey to the flames, or, 
 making a desperate attack on the posts occupied by the defenders^ 
 try to obtain unmolested possession of the place. At this moment 
 his course of conduct was determined by an unexpected occurrence, 
 of which it is necessary to trace the cause. 
 
 Julian Peveril had been, like other inhabitants of Moultrassie- 
 Hall on that momentous night, awakened by the report of the sen- 
 tinel's musket, followed by the shouts of his father's vassals and 
 followers \ of which he collected enough to guess that Bridge- 
 north's house was attacked with a view to his liberation. Very 
 doubtful of the issue of such an attempt, dizzy with the slumber 
 from which he had been so suddenly awakened, and confounded 
 with the rapid succession of events to which he had been lately a 
 ^witness, he speedily put on a part of his clothes, and hastened to 
 the window of his apartment. From this he could'see nothing to 
 relieve his anxiety, for it looked towards a quarter difTerenl from 
 that on which the attack was made. He attempted his door; it was 
 locked on the outside \ and his perplexity and anxiety became ex- 
 treme, when suddenly the lock was turned, and in an undress, 
 hastily assumed in the moment of alarm, her hair streaming on her 
 shoulders, her eyes gleaming betwixt fear and resolution, Alice 
 Bridgenorth rushed into his apartment, and seized his hand with the 
 fervent exclamation, '' Julian, save my father!" 
 
 The light which she bore in her hand served to show those fea- 
 tures which could rarely have been viewed by any one without emo- 
 tion, but which bore an expression irresistible to a lover. 
 
 " Alice," he said, " what means this? What is the danger? 
 Where is your father?" 
 
 "Do not stay to question," she answered 5 ''but if you would 
 save him, follow me! " 
 
 At the same time she led the way, with great speed, half way 
 down the turret staircase which led to his room, thence turning 
 through a side door, along a long gallery, to a larger and wider 
 stair, at the bottom of which stood her father, surrounded by four 
 or five of his friends, scarce discernible through the smoke of the 
 fire which began to take hold in the hall, as well as that which 
 arose from the repealed discharge of their own fire-arms. 
 
 Julian saw there was not a moment to be lost, if he meant to be 
 a successful mediator. He rushed through Bridgenorth's parly ere 
 they were aware of his approach, and throwing himself amongst the 
 assailants who occupied the hall in considerable numbers, he as- 
 sured them of his personal safely, and conjured them to depart. 
 
.100 PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " Not without a few more slices at the Rump, master," an- 
 swered Lance. ''I am principally glad to see you safe and well ; 
 but here is Joe Rimegap shot as dead as a buck in season, and more 
 of us are hurt ^ and we'll have revenge, and roast the Puritans like 
 apples for iambs wool ! " 
 
 " Then you shall roast me along with them," said Julian^ " for 
 I vow to God, I will not leave the hall, being bound by parole of 
 honour to abide with Major Bridgenorth till lawfully dismissed." 
 
 "Now out on you, an you were ten times a Peveril ! ". said 
 Ditchley 5 " to give so many honest fellows loss and labour on your 
 behalf, and to show them no kinder countenance. — I say, beat up 
 the fire, and burn all together!" 
 
 "Nay, nay 5 but peace, my masters, and hearken to reason," 
 said Julian-, " we are all here in evil condition, and you will only 
 make it worse by contention. Do you help to put out this same fire, 
 which will else cost us all dear. Keep yourselves under arms. Let 
 Master Bridgenorth and me settle some grounds of accommoda- 
 tion, and I trust all will be favourably made up on both sides ; 
 and if not, yoii shall have my consent and countenance to fight it 
 out; and come on it what will, I will never forge/, this night's good 
 service." 
 
 He then drew Ditchley and Lance Outram aside, while the rest 
 stood suspended at his appearance and words, and expressing the 
 utmost thanks and gratitude for what they had already done, urged 
 them, as the greatest favour which they could do towards him and 
 his father's house, to permit him to negotiate the terms of his 
 emancipation from thraldom ; at the same time forcing on Ditchley 
 five or six gold pieces, that the brave lads of Bonadventure might 
 drink his health •, whilst to Lance he expressed the warmest sense of 
 his active kindness, but protested he could only consider it as good 
 service to his house, if he was allowed to manage the matter after 
 his own fashion. 
 
 " Why," answered Lance, " I am well out on it, Master Julian; 
 for it is matter beyond my mastery. All that I stand to is, that I 
 will see you safe out of this same Moultrassie-Hall ; for our old 
 naunt EUesmere will else give me but cold comfort when I come 
 home. Truth is, I began unwillingly, but when I saw the poor 
 fellow Joe shot beside me, why, I thought we should have some 
 amends. But I put it all in your honour's hands." 
 
 During this colloquy both parlies had been amicably employed 
 in extinguishing the fire, which might otherwise have been fatal to 
 all. It required a general effort to get it under •, and both parlies 
 agreed on the necessary labour, with as much unanimity, as if 
 the water they brought in leathern buckets from Ihe well to throw 
 upon the fire, had had some effect in slaking their mutual hostility. 
 
PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Necessity— thou best of peacemakers, 
 As well as surest prompter of invention- 
 Help us to composition ; 
 • Anoitymous. 
 
 While the fire continued, the two parties laboured in active 
 union, like (he jarring factions of the Jews during the siege of 
 Jerusalem, when compelled to unite in resisting an assault of the 
 besiegers. But when the last bucket of water had hissed on the few 
 embers that continued lo glimmer — when the sense of mutual 
 hostility, hilherlo suspended by a feeling of cojnmon danger, was 
 in its turn rekindled — the parlies, mingled as Ihey had hitherto 
 been in one common exertion, drew off from each other, and 
 began to arrange themselves at opposite sides of the hall, and 
 handle their weapons as if for a renewal of the fight. 
 
 Bridgenorth interrupted any further progress of this menaced 
 hostility. "Julian Peveril," he said, " thou art free to walk thine 
 own path, since thou wilt not walk with me that road which is 
 more safe, as well as more honourable. But if you do by my 
 counsel, you will get soon beyond the British seas." 
 
 " Ralph Bridgenorth," said one of his friends, " this is but evil 
 and feeble conduct on thine own part. Wilt thou withhold thy 
 hand from the battle, to defend, from these sons of Belial, the 
 captive of thy bow and of thy spear ? Surely we are enow to deal 
 with them in the security of our good old cause ^ nor should we 
 part with this spawn of the old serpent, until we essay whether 
 the Lord will not give us victory therein." 
 
 A hum of stern assent followed ^ and had not Ganlesse now in- 
 terfered, the combat would probably have been renewed. He took , 
 the advocate for war apart into one of the window recesses, and 
 apparently satisfied his objections ; for as he returned to his com- 
 panions, he said to them, " Our friend hath so well argued this 
 matter, that, verily, since he is of the same mind with the worthy 
 Major Bridgenorth, I think the youth may be set at liberty." 
 
 As no further objection was offered, it only remained with Julian 
 lo thank and reward those who had been active in his assistance. 
 Having first obtained from Bridgenorth a promise of indemnity to 
 them for the riot they had committed, a few kind words conveyed 
 his sense of their services ; and some broad pieces, thrust into the 
 hand of Lance Oulram, furnished the means for affording them a 
 holiday. They would have remained to protect him, but, fearful of 
 farther disorder, and relying entirely on the good faith of Major 
 Bridgenorth, he dismissed them all excepting Lance, whom he de- 
 
302 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 tained lo attend upon him for a few minutes, till he should depart 
 from Moultrassie. But ere leaving the Hall, he could not repress 
 his desire to speak with Bridgenorlh in secret ^ and advancing 
 towards him, he expressed such a desire. 
 
 Tacitly granting what was asked of him, Bridgenorlh led the way 
 to a small summer saloon adjoining to the Hall, where, with his 
 usual gravity and indifference of manner, he seemed to await in 
 silence what Peveril had lo communicate. 
 
 Julian found it difficult, where so little opening was afforded 
 him, to find a tone in which to open the subjects he had at heart, 
 that should be at once dignified and conciliating. " Major Bridge- 
 north," he said at lenglh, " you have been a son, and an affec- 
 tionate one — You may conceive my present anxiety — My father I 
 — What has been designed for him ? " 
 
 '' What the law will," answered Bridgenorlh. " Had he walked 
 by the counsels which I procured to be given lo him, he might 
 have dwelt safely in the house of his ancestors. His fate is now 
 beyond my control— far beyond yours. It must be with him as 
 his country shall decide." 
 
 " And my mother?" said Peveril. 
 
 " Will consult, as she has ever done, her own duly j and create 
 her own happiness by doing so," replied Bridgenorlh. '' BeHeve, 
 my designs towards your family are better than they may seem 
 through the mist which adversity has spread around your house. 
 I may triumph as a man ; but as a man I must also remember, in 
 my hour, that mine enemies have had Iheirs. — Have you aught 
 else to say ? " he added, afler a momentary pause. " You have 
 rejected once, yea and again, the hand I stretched out to you. 
 Methinks liltie more remains between us." 
 
 These words, which seemed lo cut short farther discussion, 
 were calmly spoken; so that Ihough they appeared to discourage 
 farther question, they could not interrupt thai which still trembled on 
 Julian's tongue. He made a step or two towards the door ; then sud- 
 denly relumed. " Your daughter?" he said — "• Major Bridgenorlh 
 — I should ask — I do ask forgiveness for mentioning her name — 
 but may I not inquire after her? — May I not express my wishes 
 for her future happiness? " 
 
 *' Your interest in her is but too flallering," said Bridgenorlh ; 
 /'but you have already chosen your part; and you must be, in 
 future, slrangers lo each other. I may have wished il otherwise, 
 but the hour of grace is passed, during which your compliance with 
 my advice might — I will speak it plainly — have led lo your union. 
 For her happiness — if such a word belongs lo a mortal pilgrimage 
 — I shall care for it sufficiently. She leaves Ihis place to-day, under 
 the guardianship of a sure friend." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 303 
 
 '* Not of ?" exclaimed Peveril, and stopped short ; for he felt 
 
 he had no right to pronounce the name which came to his lips. 
 
 "Why do you pause?" said Bridgenorlh •, '' a sudden thought 
 is often a wise, almost always an honest one. With whom did you 
 suppose I meant to intrust my child, that (he idea called forth so 
 anxious an expression?" 
 
 " Again I should ask your forgiveness," said Julian, " for medi 
 dling where I have liltle right to interfere. But I saw a face here 
 that is known lo me— the person calls himself Ganlesse — Is it with 
 him that you mean to intrust your daughter?" 
 
 " Even to the person who calls himself Ganlesse," said Bridge- 
 north, without expressing either anger or surprise. 
 
 " And do you know to whom you commit a charge so precious 
 lo all who know her, and so dear to yourself? " said Julian. 
 
 " Bojou know, who ask me the question?" answered Bridge- 
 north. 
 
 " I own I do not," answered Julian -, " but I have seen him in a 
 character so different from what he now wears, that I feel it my 
 duty to warn you, how you intrust the charge of your child lo one 
 who can alternately play the profligate or the hypocrite, as it suits 
 his own interest or humour." 
 
 Bridgenorth smiled contemptuously. " I might be angry," he 
 said, " with the officious zeal which supposes that its green con- 
 ceptions can instruct my grey hairs •, but, good Julian, I do but 
 only ask from you the liberal construction, that I who have had 
 much converse with mankind, know with whom I trust what is 
 dearest to me. He of whom thou speakest, hath one visage to his 
 friends, though he may have others to the world, living amongst 
 those before whom honest features should be concealed under a 
 grotesque vizard ; even as in the sinful sporls of the day, called 
 maskings and mummeries, where the wise, if he show himself at all, 
 must be contented to play the apish and fantastic fool." 
 
 " I would only pray your wisdom to beware," said Julian, " of 
 one, who, as he has a vizard for others, may also have one which 
 can disguise his real features from you yourself." 
 
 " This is being over careful, young man," replied Bridgenorlh, 
 more shortly than he had hitherto spoken : '' if you would walk by 
 my counsel, you will attend to your own affairs, which, credit me, 
 deserve all your care, and leave others to the management of theirs." 
 This was too plain to be misunderstood^ and Peveril was com- 
 pelled to take his leave of Bridgenorth, and of Moultrassie-Hall, 
 without farther parley or explanation. The reader may imagine how 
 oft he looked back, and tried lo guess, amongst the lights which 
 continued to twinkle in various parts of the building, which sparkle 
 it was that gleamed from the bower of Alice. When Ihe road turned 
 in another direction, he sunk into a deep reverie, from which he 
 
304 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 was at length roused by the voice of Lance, who demanded where 
 lie intended to quarter for the niglit. He was unprepared to answer 
 the question, but the honest Iceeper himself prompted a solution of 
 the problem, by requesting thai he would occupy a spare bed in 
 the Lodge ^ to which Julian willingly agreed. The rest of the in- 
 habitants had retired to rest when they entered ^ but Dame Ellesmere, 
 apprised by a messenger of her nephew's hospitable intent, had 
 every thing in the best readiness she could, for the son of her an- 
 cient patron. Peveril betook himself to rest; and notwithstanding 
 so many subjects of anxiety, slept soundly till the morning was far 
 advanced. 
 
 His slumbers were first broken by Lance, who had been long up, 
 and already active in his service. He informed him, that his horse, 
 arms, and small cloak-bag, had been sent from the Castle by one of 
 Major Bridgenorth's servants, who brought a latter, discharging 
 from the Major's service the unfortunate Deborah Debbitch, and 
 prohibiting her return to the Hall. The officer of the House of 
 Commons, escorted by a strong guard, had left Martindale Castle 
 that morning early, travelling in Sir Geoffrey's carriage — his lady 
 being also permitted to attend on him. To this he had to add, that 
 the property at the Castle was taken possession of by Master Win- 
 the-fight, the attorney, from Chesterfield, with other officers of law, 
 in name of Major Bridgenorth, a large creditor of the unfortunate 
 knight. 
 
 Having told these Job's tidings. Lance paused ; and, after a mo- 
 ment's hesitation, declared he was resolved to quit the country and 
 go up to London along with his young master. Julian argued the 
 point with him •, and insisted he had better stay to take charge of his 
 aunt, in case she should be disturbed by these strangers. Lance re- 
 plied, " She would have one with her, who would protect her well 
 enough •, for there was wherewithal to buy protection amongst them. 
 But for himself, he was resolved to follow Master Julian to the 
 death." 
 
 Julian heartily thanked him for his love. 
 
 " Nay, it is hot altogether out of love neither," said Lance, 
 *' though I am as loving as another; but it is, as it were, partly out 
 of fear, lest I be called over the coals for last night's matter ; for as 
 for the miners, they will never trouble them, as the creatures only 
 act after their kind." 
 
 "• I will write in your behalf to Major Bridgenorth, who is bound 
 to afford you protection, if you have such fear,' said Julian. 
 
 *' Nay, for that matter, it is not altogether fear, more than al- 
 together love," answered the enigmatical keeper ; " although it hath 
 a lasting of both in it. And, to speak plain truth, thus it is — Dame 
 Debbitch andNaunl Ellesmere have resolved to set up their horses 
 together, and have made up all their quarrels. — And of all ghosts 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 305 
 
 in the world, the worst is, when an old true-love comes back lo 
 haunt a poor fellow like me. Mistress Deborah, though distressed 
 enow for the loss of her place, has been already speaking of a broken 
 sixpence, or some such token, as if a man could remember such 
 things for so many years, even if she had not gone over seas, like a 
 woodcock, in the mecmwhile." 
 
 Julian could scarce forbear laughing. '' I thought you loo much 
 of a man. Lance, to fear a woman marrying you whether you would 
 or no/' 
 
 '^ It has been many an honest man's luck, for all lhat,"said Lance ; 
 '^ and a woman in the very house has so many deuced opportunities. 
 And then there would be two upon one ; for Naunt, though high 
 enough when any of your folks are concerned, hath some look to 
 the main chance ; and it seems Mistress Deb is as rich as a Jew\" 
 
 '' And you, Lance," said Julian, " have no mind to marry for 
 cake and pudding?" 
 
 ''No, truly, master," answered Lance, " unless I knew of what 
 dough they were baked. How the devil do I know how the jade 
 came by so much? And then if she speaks of tokens and love-pas- 
 sages, let her be the same tight lass I broke the sixpence with, and 
 I will be the same true lad to her. But I never heard of true love 
 lasting ten years ; and hers, if it lives at all, must be nearer twenty." 
 
 " Well, then. Lance," said Julian, " since you are resolved on 
 the thing, we will go to London together ^ where, if I cannot retain 
 you in my service, and if my father recovers not these misfortunes, 
 I will endeavour to promote you elsewhere." 
 
 " Nay, nay," said Lance, " I trust to be back to bonny Martin- 
 dale before it is long, and to keep the greenwood, as I have been 
 wont to do-, for, as to Dame Debbitch, when they have not me for 
 their common butt, Naunt and she will soon bend bows on each 
 other. So here comes old Dame Eilesmere with your breakfast. I 
 will but give some directions about the deer to Rough Ralph, my 
 helper, and saddle my forest pony, and your honour's horse, which 
 is no prime one, and we will be ready to trot." 
 
 Julian was not sorry for this addition to his establishment 5 for 
 Lance had shown himself, on the preceding evening, a shrewd and 
 bold fellow, and attached to his master. He therefore set himself to 
 reconcile his aunt to parting with her nephew for some lime. Her 
 unlimited devotion for " the family," readily induced the old lady 
 to acquiesce in his proposal, though not without a gentle sigh over 
 the ruins of a castle in the air, which was founded on the well-saved 
 purse of Mistress Deborah Debbitch. " At any rate," she thought, 
 '' it was as well that Lance should be out of the way of that bold, 
 long-legged, beggarly trollop, Cis Sellok." But lo poor Deb her- 
 self, the expatriation of Lance, whom she had looked to as a sailor 
 to a port under his lee, for which he can run, if weather becomes 
 
 20 
 
306 PEVERIL OF THE PEA.K. 
 
 foul, was a second severe blow, following close on her dismissal 
 from tjjo profitable service of Major Bridgenorth. 
 
 Julian visited the disconsolate damsel, in hopes of gaining some 
 light upon Bridgenorth's projects regarding his daughter— the cha- 
 racter of this Ganlesse — and other matters, with which her residence 
 in the family might have made her acquainted ; but he found her by- 
 far too much troubled in mind to afford him the least information. 
 The name of Ganlesse she did not seem to recollect — that of Alice 
 rendered her hysterical — that of Bridgenorth, furious. She num- 
 bered up the various services she had rendered in the family- — and 
 denounced the plague of swartness to the linen' — of leanness to the 
 poultry — of dearth and dishonour to the housekeeping — and of lin- 
 gering sickness and early death to Alice \ — all which evils, she 
 averred, had only been kept off by her continued, watchful, and in- 
 cessant cares. — Then again turning to the subject of the fugitive 
 Lance, she expressed such a total contempt of that mean-spirited 
 fellow, in a tone between laughing and crying, as satisfied Julian it 
 was not a topic likely to act as a sedative ^ and that, therefore, un- 
 less he made a longer stay than the urgent state of his affairs per- 
 mitted, he W9S not likely to l|nd Mistress Deborah in such a state of 
 composure as might enable him to obtain from her any rational or 
 useful information. 
 
 Lance, who good-naturedly took upon himself the whole burdep 
 of Daiyie Debbitch's mental alienation, or ''taking on," as such 
 fits of passio hysterica are usually termed in the country, had too 
 much feeling to present himself before the victim of her own sensi- 
 bility, and of his obduracy. He therefore intimated to Julian, by 
 his assistant Ralph, that the horses stood saddled behind the Lodge, 
 and that all was ready for their departure. 
 
 Jnlian took the hint, and they were soon mounted, and clearing 
 the road, iat 9 rapid trot, in the direction of London 5 but not by 
 the most usual route. Julian calculated that the carriage in which 
 his father was transported would travel slowly : and it was his pur- 
 pose, if possible, to get to London before it should arrive there, in 
 order to have time to consult with the friends of his family, what 
 measures should be taken in his father's behalf. 
 
 Jn this manner, they advanced a day's journey towards London : 
 at the conclusion of which, Julian found his resling-placo in a small 
 inn upon the road. No one came, at the first call, to attend upon 
 the guests and their horses, although the house was well lighted 
 up ♦, and there was a prodigious chattering in the kitchen, such as 
 can only be produced by a French cook, when his mystery is in the 
 very moment of projection. It instantly oecurred to Julian — so rare 
 was the ministry of these Gallic artists at that time — that the clam- 
 ourhe heard must necessarily be produced by the Sieur Chaubcrt, on 
 whose plats he had lately feasted, along with Smith and Ganlesse. 
 
PEVKRIL OF THE PEAR. 307 
 
 One, or both of these, were therefore probably in the littFe inn-, 
 and if so, he might have some opportunity to discover their real 
 purpose and character. How lo avail himself of such a meeting, 
 he knew not ; but chance favoured him more than he could havff 
 expected. 
 
 "I can scarce receive you gentlefolks," said the landlord, whe- 
 al length appeared at the door^ "here be a sort of quality in my" 
 house to-night, whom less than all will not satisfy ^ nor all neither, 
 for that matter." 
 
 "We are but plain fellows, landlord," said Julian; "we are 
 bound for Moseley-market, and can get no farther to-night. Any 
 hole will serve us, no mailer what." 
 
 "Why," said the honest host, "if that be the case, I must e'en 
 put one of you behind Ihe bar, though the gentlemen have desired 
 to be private ; the other must lake heart of grace, and help me at 
 the lap." 
 
 "The tap for me," said Lance, without waiting his master's de^ 
 cision. " It is an element which I could live and die in." 
 
 "The bar, then, for me," said Peveril; and stepping back, 
 whispered to Lance to exchange cloaks with him, desirous, if pos^ 
 slble, to avoid being recognised. 
 
 The exchange was made in an instant; and presently aflerwards 
 the landlord brought a light ; snd as he guided Julian into his 
 hostelry, cautioned him to sit quiet in the place where he should 
 slow him ; and if he was discovered, to say that he was one of the 
 house, and leave him lo make it good. "You will hear what the 
 gallants say," he added; "but I think thou wilt carry away but 
 little on it ; for when it is not French, it is Court gibberish ; and 
 that is as hard to construe." 
 
 The bar, into which our hero was inducted on these conditions, 
 seemed formed, with respect to Ihe public room, upon the principle 
 of a citadel, intended to observe and bridle a rebellious capital. 
 Here sat the host on the Saturday evenings, screened from Ihe ob- 
 servation of his guests, yet with the power of observing both their 
 wants and their behaviour, and also that of overhearing their con- 
 versation — ^a practice which he was much addicted lo, being one of 
 that numerous class of philanthropists, to whom their neighbour's 
 business is of as muchi consequence, or rather more, than their 
 own. 
 
 Here he planted his new guest, with a repeated caution not to 
 disturb the gentlemen by speech or motion ; and a promise that he 
 should be speedily supplied with a cold buttock of beef, and a 
 tankard of home-brewed. And here he left him, with no other light 
 than that which glimmered from the well-illuminated apartment 
 within, through a sort of shuttle which accomniodated the landlord 
 with a view into it. 
 
308 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 This situation, inconvenient enough in itself, was, on the present 
 occasion, precisely what Julian would have selected. He wrapped 
 himself in the weather-beaten cloak of Lance Outram, which had 
 been stained, by age and climale, into a thousand variations of ils 
 original Lincoln green ; and with as little noise as he could, set 
 himself to observe the two inmates, who had engrossed to them- 
 selves the whole of the apartment, which was usually open to the 
 public. They sat by a table, well covered wilh such costly rarities, 
 as could only have been procured by much forecast, and prepared 
 by the exquisite Mons. Chaubert •, to which both seemed to do much 
 justice. 
 
 Julian had little ditiicuUy in ascertaining, thai one of the tra- 
 vellers was, as he had anticipated, the master of the said Chaubert, 
 or, as he was called by Ganlesse, Smith-, the other, who faced 
 him, he had never seen before. This last was dressed like a gallant 
 of the first order. His periwig, indeed, as he travelled on horse- 
 back, did not much exceed in size the bar- wig of a modern lawyer ; 
 but then the essence which he shook from it with every motion, 
 impregnated a whole apartment, which was usually only perfumed 
 by that vulgar herb, tobacco. His riding-coat was laced in the 
 newest and most courtly style 5 and Grammonl himself might have 
 envied the embroidery of his waistcoat, and the peculiar cut of his 
 breeches, which buttoned above the knee, permitting the shape of 
 a very handsome leg to be completely seen. This, by the proprietor 
 thereof, had been stretched out upon a stool, and he contemplated 
 its proportions, from time to time, wilh infinite satisfaction. 
 
 The conversation between these worthies was so interesting, that 
 we propose to assign to it another chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVn. 
 
 This is some creature of the elements, 
 
 Most like your sea-gull. He can wheel and whistle 
 His screaming song, e'en when the storm is loudest- 
 Take for his sheeted couch the restless foam 
 Of the wide wave-crest- slumher in the calm, 
 And dally with the storm. Yet 'tis a gull. 
 An arrant gull, with all this. 
 
 The Chieftain. 
 
 "And here is to thee," said the fashionable gallant whom we 
 have described, " honest Tom ; and a cup of welcome to thee out 
 of Lobby-land. Why, thou hast been so long in the country, that 
 thou hast got a bumpkinly clod-compelling sort of look thyself. 
 That greasy doublet fits thee as if it were thine reserved Sunday's 
 apparel ; and the points seem as if they were stay-laces bought for 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 309 
 
 Ihy true-love Marjory. I marvel thou canst still relish a ragout. 
 Methinks now, to a stomach bound in such a jacket, eggs and bacon 
 were a diet more conforming.*' 
 
 " Rally away, my good lord, while wit lasts," answered his com- 
 panion ^ '* yours is not the sort of ammunition which will bear much 
 expenditure. Or rather, tell me news from Court, since we have 
 met so opportunely." 
 
 ''You would have asked me these an hour ago," said the lord, 
 ''had not your very soul been under Chauberrs covered dishes. 
 You remembered King's affairs will keep cool, and entremets must 
 be eaten hot." 
 
 " Not so, my lord ^ I only kept common talk whilst that eaves- 
 dropping rascal of a landlord was in the room 5 so thai, now the 
 coast is clear once more, I pray you for news from Court." 
 
 "^ The Plot is nonsuited," answered the courtier — " Sir George 
 Wakeman acquitted ' — the witnesses discredited by the jury — 
 Scroggs, who ranted on one side, is now ranting on t'other." 
 
 "Rat the Plot, Wakeman, witnesses. Papists, and Protestants, 
 all together I Do you think I care for such trash as that ? — Till the 
 Plot comes up the palace back-stair, and gels possession of old 
 Rowley's own imagination, I care not a farthing who believes or 
 disbelieves. I hang by him will bear me out." 
 
 "Well, then, " said my lord, "the next news is Rochester's 
 disgrace." 
 
 " Disgraced ! — How and for what? The morning I came off, 
 he stood as fair as any one." 
 
 " That's over—the epitaph " has broken his neck— and now he 
 may write one for his own Court favour, for it is dead and buried." 
 
 " The epitaph ! " exclaimed Tom 5 " why, I was by when it was 
 made 5 and it passed for an excellent good jest with him whom it 
 was made upon." 
 
 "Ay, so it did among ourselves," answered his companion; 
 " but it got abroad, and had a run like a mill-race. It was in 
 every coffeehouse, and in half the diurnals. Grammont translated 
 it into French too-, and there is no laughing at so sharp a jest, 
 when it is dinned into your ears on all sides. So disgraced is the 
 author; and but for his Grace of Buckingham, the Court would be 
 as dull as my Lord Chancellor's wig." 
 
 " Or as the head it covers. — Well, my lord, the fewer at Court, 
 
 ' Note, p. 320. First Check to the Plot. 
 
 ' The epitaph alluded to is the celebrated epigram made by Rochester on Charles II. 
 It was composed at the King's request, who nevertheless resented its poignancy. 
 The lines are well known :— 
 
 " Here lies oar sovereign lord the King, 
 Whose word no man relies on ; 
 Who never said a foolish thing, 
 And never did a wise one." 
 
310 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 there Is the more room for those that can bustle there. But there 
 are two rnainstrings of Shaftesbury's fiddle broken — the Popish 
 Plot fallen into discredit— and Rochester disgraced. Changeful 
 times — but here is to the little man who shall mend them." 
 
 " I apprehend you,"replied his lordship; "and meet your health 
 with my love. Trust me, my lord loves you, and longs for you. 
 Nay, I have done you reason. — By your leave, the cup is with me. 
 Here is to his buxom Grace of Bucks." 
 
 *' As blithe a peer," said Smith, " as ever turned night to day. 
 Nay, it shall be an overflowing bumper, an you will; and I will 
 drink it super naculum. — And how stands the great Madam ' ? " 
 
 *' Stoutly against all change," answered my lord — " Little An- 
 thony "^ can make nought of her." 
 
 " Then he shall bring her influence to nought. Hark in thine 
 ear. Thou knowest" — ( Here he whispered so low that Julian could 
 not catch the sound. ) 
 
 " Know him," answered the other, — " Know Ned of the Island? 
 — Tobesui-e I do." 
 
 " He is the man that shall knot the great fiddlestrings that have 
 
 snapped. Say I told you so ; and thereupon I give thee his health." 
 
 ''And thereupon I pledge thee," said the young nobleman, 
 
 "which on any other argument I were loath to do — thinking of 
 
 Ned as somewhat the cut of a villain." 
 
 " Granted, man— granted," said the other, — " a very thorough- 
 paced rascal; but able, my lord, able and necessary; and, in this 
 plan, indispensable. Pshaw I — This champagne turns stronger as 
 it gels older, I think." 
 
 " Hark, mine honest fellow," said the courtier ; " I would thou 
 wouldst give me some item of all this mystery. Thou hast it, I 
 know ; for whom do men intrust but trusty Chiffinch ? " 
 
 " It is your pleasure to say so, my lord," answered Smith 
 ( whom we shall hereafter call by his real name of Chiffinch), with 
 much drunken gravity, for his speech had become a little altered 
 by his copious libations in the course of the evening , — "few men 
 know more, or say less, than I do ; and it well becomes my station. 
 Conticuere pmnes^ as the grammar hath it — all men should learn 
 tQ hold their tongue." 
 
 " Except with a friend,— Tom— except with a friend. Thou wilt 
 never be such a dog-bolt as to refuse a hint to a friend ? Come, you 
 get too wise and statesmanlike for your olTice — The ligatures of thy 
 most peasantly jacket there are like to burst with thy secret. Come, 
 undo a button, man ; it is for the health of thy conslitulion — Let 
 
 ' The Duchess of Portsmouth, Charles II.'s favourite mistress ; very unpopular at the 
 time of the Popish Plot, as well from her religion as her country, being a Frenchwoman 
 and a Catholic. 
 
 » Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Sha(le»bury, the politician and intriguer of thw 
 period. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 311 
 
 out a reef-, and let Ihy chosen friend know what is meditating. 
 Thou knowest I am as true as thyself to little Anthony, if he can 
 but get uppermost." 
 
 " If, thou lordly infidel I " said Chiffinch— " talk'st thou to me 
 of ifs ? — There is neither if nor an in the matter. The great 
 Madam shall be pulled a peg down — the great Plot screwed a peg 
 or Iwo up. Thou knowest Ned ? — Honest Ned had a brother's 
 death to revenge." 
 
 *' I have heard so," said the nobleman ; " and that his persever- 
 ing resentment of Ihat injury was one of the few points which 
 seemed to be a sort of heathenish virtue in him." 
 
 '' Well," continued Chiffinch, " in manoeuvring to bring about 
 this revenge, which he halh laboured at many a day, he hath dis- 
 covered a treasure." 
 
 ^' What! — In Ihe Isle of Man? " said his companion. 
 '^ Assure yourself of it. — She is a creature so lovely, that she 
 needs but be seen to put down every one of the favourites, from 
 Portsmouth and Cleveland down to that Ihree-penny baggage, Mis- 
 tress Nelly." 
 
 '' By my word, Chiffinch," said my lord, *' that is a reinforce- 
 ment after the fashion of thine own best tactics. But bethink thee, 
 man ! To make such a conquest, there wanis more than a cherry- 
 cheek and a bright eye — there must be wit — wit, man, and man- 
 ners, and a little sense besides, to keep influence when it is gotten." 
 " Pshaw I will you tell me what goes to this vocation?" said 
 Chiffinch. " Here, pledge me her health in a brimmer. — Nay, 
 you shall do it on knees, too. — Never such a triumphant beauty 
 was seen — I went to church on purpose, for the first time these ten 
 years — Yet I lie, it was not to church neither — it was to chapel." 
 
 " To chapel I— What the devil, is she a Puritan?" exclaimed 
 the other courtier. 
 
 " To be sure she is. Do you think I would be accessary to 
 bringing a Papist into favour in these times, when, as my good 
 Lord said in the House, there should not be a Popish man-servant, 
 nor a Popish maid-servant, nor so much as dog or cat left, to bark 
 or mew abou? the King ' I " 
 
 '' But consider, Chiffie, the dislikehhood of her pleasing," said 
 the noble courtier. — '- What I old Rowley, with his wit, and love of 
 wit — his wildness, and love of witdness — he form a league with a 
 silly y scrupulous, unidea'd Puritan! — Not if she were Venus." 
 
 " Thou knowest nought of the matter, " answered Chiffinch. 
 *' I tell thee, the fine contrast between the seeming saint and faUing 
 sinner will give zest to the old gentleman's inclinations. If I do not 
 know him, who does? — Her health, my lord, on your bare knee, 
 as you would Five to be of the bedchamber ! " 
 
 .' Sueh was the cxtrava^nce of Sliaftcsfaury'g. eloquencs. 
 
312 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " I pledge you most devoutly," answered his friend. '' But you 
 have not told me how the acquaintance is to be made ^ for you can- 
 not, 1 Ihink, carry her to Whitehall." 
 
 '^ Aha, my dear lord, you would have the wtiole secret! but that 
 I cannot afford — I can spare a friend a peep at my ends, but no one 
 must look on the means by which they are achieved." — So saying, 
 he shook his drunken head most wisely. 
 
 The villainous design which this discourse implied, and which 
 his heart told him was designed against Alice Bridgenorlh, stirred 
 Julian so extremely, that he involuntarily shifted his posture, and 
 laid his hand on his sword hilt. 
 
 Chiflinch heard a ruslling, and broke off, exclaiming,'' Hark I 
 — Zounds, something moved — I trust I have told the tale to no ears 
 but thine." 
 
 " I will cut off any which have drunk in but a syllable of thy 
 words," said the nobleman ♦, and raising a candle, he took a hasty 
 survey of the apartment. Seeing nothing that could incur his me- 
 naced resentment, he replaced the light and continued : — " Well, 
 suppose the Belle Louise de Querouaille ' shoots from her high 
 station in the firmament, how will you rear up the down-fallen Plot 
 again — for without that same Plot, think of it as thou wilt, we have 
 no change of hands — and matters remain as they were, with a 
 Protestant courtesan instead of a Papist — Little Anthony can but 
 little speed without that Plot of his — I believe, in my conscience, 
 he begot it himself \" 
 
 " Whoever begot it, '* said Chiffinch," he hath adopted it ; and 
 a thriving babe it has been to him. Well, then, though it lies out 
 of my way, I will play Saint Peter again — up with t'other key, and 
 unlock t'other mystery." 
 
 " Now thou speakest like a good fellow ^ and I will, with my own 
 hands, unwire this fresh flask, to begin a brimmer to the success of 
 thy achievement." 
 
 " Well, then," continued the communicative Chiffinch," thou 
 knowest that they have long had a nibbling at the old Countess of 
 Derby. — So Ned was sent down— he owes her an old accompt, thou 
 knowest — with private instructions to possess himself of the island, 
 if he could, by help of some of his old friends. He hath ever kept 
 up spies upon her ^ and happy man was he, to think his hour of 
 vengeance was come so nigh. But he missed his blow ^ and the old 
 girl being placed on her guard, was soon in a condition to make 
 Ned smoke for it. Out of the island he came with little advantage 
 for having entered it-, when, by some means— for the devil, I 
 think, stands ever his friend — he obtained information concerning 
 
 ■ Charles's principal mistress en Hire. She was created Duchess of Portsmouth. 
 > Shaftesbury himself is supposed to have said that he knew not who was the inventor 
 u[ the Plot, hut that he himself had all the advantage of the discovery. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 313 
 
 a messenger, whom her old Majesty of Man had sent to London 
 to make parly in her behalf. Ned stuck himself to this fellow — a 
 raw, half-bred lad, son of an old blundering Cavalier of the old 
 stamp, down in Derbyshire — and so m.anaged the swain, that he 
 brought him to ttie place where I was waiting, in anxious expec- 
 tation of the pretty one I told you of. Cv Saint Anthony, for I will 
 swear by no meaner oath, I stared when I saw this great lout — 
 not that the fellow is so ill-looked neither — I stared like — like — 
 good now, help me to a simile." 
 
 " Like Saint Anthony's pig, an it were stuck," said the young lord •, 
 '*^your eyes, ChifRe, have the very blink of one. But what hath all 
 this to do with the Plot? Hold — I have had wine enough." 
 
 "You shall not baulk me," said Chiffinch^ and a jingling was 
 heard, as if he were filling his comrade's glass with a very unsteady 
 hand. " Hey — What the devil is the matter? — I used to carry my 
 glass steady — very steady." 
 
 "Well, but this stranger?" 
 
 " Why, he swept at game and ragout as he would at spring beef 
 or summer mutton. Never saw so unnurtured a cub- — Knew no 
 more what he eat than an infidel— I cursed him by my gods when I 
 saw Chaubert's chef-d'oeuvres glutted down so indiflferent a throat. 
 We took the freedom to spice his goblet a little, and ease him 
 of his packet of letters-, and the fool went on his way the next 
 morning with a budget artificially filled with grey paper. Ned would 
 have kept him, in hopes to have made a witness of him, but the boy 
 was not of that mettle." 
 
 " How will you prove your letters?" said the courtier. 
 
 " La you there, my lord," said Chiffinch \ "one may see with 
 half an eye, for all your laced doublet, that you have been of the 
 family of Furnival's, before your brother's death sent you to 
 Court. How prove the letters?— Why, we have but let the spar- 
 row fly with a siring round his foot— We have him again so soon 
 as we list." 
 
 "Why, thou art turned a very Machiavel, Chifiinch," said his 
 friend. " But how if the youth proved restiff? — I have heard these 
 Peak men have hot heads and hard hands." 
 
 " Trouble not yourself — that was cared for, my lord," said Chif- 
 finch — "his pistols might bark, but they could not bite." 
 
 "Most exquisite Chiffinch, thou art turned micher as well as 
 padder — Canst both rob a man and kidnap him!" 
 
 "Micher and padder — what terms be these?" said Chiffinch. 
 ' '• Melhinks these are sounds to lug out upon . You will have me angry 
 to the degree of falling foul — robber and kidnapper! " 
 
 "You mistake verb for noun-substantive," replied his lordship; 
 "I said rob and kidnap — a man may do either once and away 
 without being professional." 
 
314 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 '* But not without spilling a little foolish noble blood, or some such 
 red-coloured gear," said Chiffinch, starting up. 
 
 "Oh yes," said his lordship^ "all this may be without these 
 direful consequences, and so you will find to-morrow, when you 
 return to England ; for at present you are in the land of Champagne, 
 Chiffle •, and that you may continue so, I drink thee this parting cup 
 to line thy nightcap." 
 
 "I do not refuse your pledge," said Chiffinch; "but I drink to 
 thee in dudgeon and in hostility — il is a cup of wrath and a gage of 
 battle. To-morrow, by dawn, I will have thee at point of fox, wert 
 thou the last of the Savilles. — What the devil ! think you I fear you 
 because you are a lord?" 
 
 "Not so, Chiffinch," answered his companion. "I know thou 
 fearest n^olhing but beans and bacon, washed down with bumpkin- 
 like beer. — Adieu, sweet Chiffinch — to bed — Chiffinch — to bed." 
 
 So saying, he lighted a candle, and left the apartment. And Chif- 
 finch, whom the last draught had nearly overpowered, had just 
 strength enough left to do the same, muttering, as he staggered out, 
 "Yes, he shall answer it. — Dawn of day? D — n me — II is come 
 already — Yonder's the dawn — ^No, d — n me, lis the fire glancing 
 on the cursed red lattice — I am whistled drunk, I think — This comes 
 of a country inn — It is the smell of the brandy in this cursed room 
 — It could not be the wine — Well, old Rowley shall send me no more 
 errands to the country again — Steady, steady." 
 
 So saying, he reeled out of the apartment, leaving Peveril to think 
 over the extraordinary conversation he had just heard. 
 
 The name of Chiffinch, the well-known minister of Charles's 
 pleasures, was nearly allied to the part which he seemed about to 
 play in the present intrigue ; but that Christian, whom he had always 
 supposed a Purilan as strict as his brother-in-law Bridgenorth, 
 should be associated with him in a plot so infamous, seemed alike 
 unnatural and monstrous. The near relationship might blind Bridge- 
 north, and warrant him in confiding his daughter to such a man's 
 charge; but what a wretch he must be, that could coolly meditate 
 such an ignominious abuse of his trust ! In doubt whether he could 
 credit for a moment the tale which Chiffinch had revealed, he hastily 
 examined his packet, and found that the sealskin case in which it 
 had been wrapt up, now only contained an equal quantity of waste 
 paper. If he had wanted further confirmation, the failure of the 
 shot which he had fired at Bridgenorth, and of which the wadding 
 only struck him, showed that his arms had been tampered with. 
 He examined the pistol which still remained charged, and found 
 that the ball had been drawn. " May I perish,'' said he to himself, 
 "amid these villainous intrigues, but thou shall be more surely 
 loaded, and to better purpose! The contents of these papers may 
 undo my benefactress— their having been found on me, may ruin 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 315 
 
 my father — that I have been the bearer of them, may cost, in these 
 fiery limes, my own life — that I care least for— they form a branch 
 of the scheme laid against the honour and happiness of a creature 
 so innocent, that it is almost sin to think of her within the neigh- 
 bourhood of such infamous knaves. I will recover the letters at all 
 risks — But how? — that is to be thought on. — Lance is stout and 
 trusty 5 and when a bold deed is once resolved upon, there never 
 yet lacked the means of executing it." 
 
 His host now entered, with an apology for his long absence •, and 
 after providing Peveril with some refreshments, invited him to 
 accept, for his night-quarters, the accommodation of a remote hay- 
 loft, which he was to share with his comrade ; professing, at the 
 same time, he could hardly have afforded them this courtesy, but 
 out of deference to the exquisite talents of Lance Outram, as assis- 
 tant at the tap ; where, indeed, it seems probable that he, as well as 
 the admiring landlord, did that evening contrive to drink nearly as 
 much liquor as they drew. 
 
 But Lance was a seasoned vessel, on whom liquor made no last- 
 ing impression : so that when Peveril awaked that trusty follower at 
 dawn, he found him cool enough to comprehend and enter into the 
 design which he expressed, of recovering the letters which had 
 been abstracted from his person. 
 
 Having considered the whole matter with much attention. Lance 
 shrugged, grinned, and scratched his head ^ and at length manfully 
 expressed his resolution. '' Well, my naunt speaks truth in her 
 old saw, — 
 
 * He that serves Peveril maunna be slack, 
 Neither for weather nor yet for wrack.' 
 
 And then again, my good dame was wont to say, that whenever 
 Peveril was in a broil, Outram was in a stew ; so I will never bear 
 a base mind, but even hold a part with you, as my fathers have done 
 with yours, for four generations, whatever more." 
 
 "Spoken like a most gallant Outram," said Julian ; '' and were 
 we but rid of that puppy lord and his retinue, we two could easily 
 deal with the other three." 
 
 '' Two Londoners and a Frenchman?" said Lance,—" I would 
 lake them in mine own hand. And as for my Lord Saville, as they 
 call him, I heard word last night that he and all his men of gilded 
 gingerbread — that looked at an honest fellow like me, as if they 
 were the ore and I the dross — are all to be off this morning to 
 some races, or such like junketings, about Tutbury. It was that 
 brought him down here, where he met this other civet-cat by ac- 
 cident." 
 
 In truth, even as Lance spoke, a trampling was heard of horses 
 in the yard 5 and from the hatch of their hay-loft, they beheld Lord 
 
3l6 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Saville's attendants mustered, and ready to s<3l out as soon as he 
 should make his appearance. 
 
 "'So ho, Master Jeremy," said one of the fellows, to a sort of prin- 
 cipal attendant, who just came out of the house, '' melhinks the 
 wine has proved a sleeping-cup to my lord this morning." 
 
 " No," answered Jeremy, '' he hath been up before light, writing 
 letters for London ; and to punish thy irreverence, thou, Jonathan, 
 shaltbe the man to ride back with them." 
 
 " And so to miss the race ?" said Jonathan, sulkily ^ '^ I thank you 
 for this good turn, good Master Jeremy • and hang me if I forget it." 
 Further discussion was cut short by the appearance of the young 
 nobleman, who, as he came out of the inn, said to Jeremy, " These 
 bo the letters. Let one of the knaves ride to London for life and 
 death, and deliver them as directed^ and the rest of them get to 
 horse and follow me." 
 
 Jeremy gave Jonathan the packet with a malicious smile-, and 
 the disappointed groom turned his horse's head sullenly towards 
 London, while Lord Saville, and the rest of his retinue, rode briskly 
 off in an opposite direction, pursued by the benedictions of the host 
 and his family, who stood bowing and curtsying at the door, in 
 gratitude, doubtless, for the receipt of an unconscionable reckoning. 
 It was full three hours after their departure, that Chiffinch 
 lounged into the room in which they had supped, in a brocade 
 nightgown, and green velvet cap, turned up with the most costly 
 Brussels lace. He seemed but half awake 5 and it was with drowsy 
 voice that he called for a cup of cold small beer. His manner and 
 appearance were those of a man who had wrestled hard with Bac- 
 chus on the preceding evening, and had scarce recovered the efTecIs 
 of his contest with the jolly god. Lance, instructed by his master to 
 watch the motions of the courtier, officiously attended with the 
 cooling beverage he called for, pleading, as an excuse to the land- 
 lord, his wish to see a Londoner in his morning-gown arid cap. 
 
 No sooner had Chiffinch taken his morning draught, than he 
 enquired after Lord Saville. 
 
 '' His lordship was mounted and away by peep of dawn," was 
 Lance's reply. 
 
 '' What the devil!" exclaimed Chiffinch •, " why, this is scarce 
 civil. — What! off for the races with his whole retinue?" 
 
 " All but one," replied Lance, "^whom his lordship sent back 
 to London with letters." . 
 
 '' To London with letters!" said Chiffinch. "Why, I am for 
 London, and could have saved his express a labour.— But stop — 
 hold — I begin to recollect — d — n, can I have blabbed? — 1 have— I 
 have — I remember it all now — I have blabbed •, and to the very 
 weazcl of the Court, who sucks the yolk out of every man's secret. 
 Furies and tire—that my afternoons should ruin my mornings thus.' 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 317 
 
 — I must turn boon companion and good fellow in my cups — and 
 have my confidences and my quarrels — my friends and my enemies, 
 with a plague to me, as if any one could do a man much good or 
 harm but his own self! His messenger must be slopped, though 
 — I will put a spoke in his wheel. — Hark ye, drawer-fellow — call 
 my groom hither — call Tom Beacon." 
 
 Lance obeyed ^ but failed not, when he had introduced the do- 
 mestic, to remain in the apartment in order to hear what should 
 pass betwixt him and his master. 
 
 '* Hark ye, Tom," said Chilfinch, " here are five pieces for you." 
 
 *' What's to be done now, I Irow ?" said Tom, without even Ihe 
 ceremony of returning thanks, which he was probably well aware 
 would not be received even in part payment of the debt he was in- 
 curring. 
 
 " Mount your fleet nag, Tom — ride like the devil — overtake the 
 groom whom Lord Saville dispatched to London this morning — 
 lame his horse — break his bones — fill him as drunk as the Baltic 
 sea ^ or do whatever may best and most elTectually stop his journey. 
 — Why does the lout stand there without answering me? Dost 
 understand me?" 
 
 " Why, ay. Master Chitfinch," said Tom •, " and so I am think- 
 ing doth this honest man here, who need not have heard quite so 
 much of your counsel, an it had been your will." 
 
 " I am bewitched this morning," said Chilfinch to himself, " or 
 else the champagne runs in my head still. My brain has become 
 the very lowlands of Holland — a gill-cup would inundate it — Hark 
 thee, fellow," he added, addressing Lance, " keep my counsel — 
 there is a wager betwixt Lord Saville and me, which of us shall first 
 have a letter in London. Here is to drink my health, and bring luck 
 on my side. Say nothing of it ^ but help Tom to his nag. — Tom, 
 ere thou startest, come for thy credentials— I will give thee a letter 
 to the Duke of Bucks, that may be evidence thou wert first in town." 
 
 Tom Beacon ducked and exit; and Lance, after having made 
 some show of helping him to horse, ran back to lell his master Ihe 
 joyful intelligence, that a lucky accident had abated Chiffinch's 
 parly to their own number. 
 
 Peveril immediately ordered his horses to be got ready ^ and, so 
 soon as Tom Beacon was dispatched towards London on a rapid 
 trot, had the satisfaction to observe Chitfinch, with his favourite 
 Chaubert, mount to pursue the same journey, though at a more 
 moderate rate. He permitted them to attain such a distance, that 
 they might be dogged without suspicion ; then paid his reckoning, 
 mounted his horse, and followed, keeping his men carefully in 
 view, until he should come to a place proper for the enterprise 
 which he meditated. 
 
 It had been Peveril's intention, that when ihey came lo some 
 
318 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 solitary part of the road, they should gradually mend their pace, 
 until they overtook Chaubert— that Lance Outram should then drop 
 behind, in order to assail the man of spits and stoves, while he 
 himself, spurring onward, should grapple with Chiffinch. But this 
 scheme presupposed that the master and servant should travel in 
 the usual manner — the latter riding a few yards behind the former. 
 Whereas, such and so interesting were the subjects of discussion 
 betwixt Chiffinch and the French cook, that, without heeding the 
 rules of etiquette, they rode on together, amicably abreast, carrying 
 on a conversation on the mysteries of the table, which the ancient 
 Comus, or a modern gastronome, might have listened to with plea- 
 sure. It was, therefore, necessary to venture on them both at once. 
 
 For this purpose, when they saw a long tract of road before 
 them, unvaried by the least appearance of man, beast, or human 
 habitation, they began to mend their pace, that they might come 
 up to Chiffinch, without giving him any alarm, by a sudden and 
 suspicious increase of haste. In this manner, they lessened the 
 distance which separated them till they were within about twenty 
 yards, when Peveril, afraid that Chiffinch might recognise him at 
 a nearer approach, and so trust to his horse's heels, made Lance 
 the signal to charge. 
 
 At the sudden increase of their speed, and the noise with which 
 it was necessarily attended, Chiffinch looked around, but had time 
 to do no more, for Lance, who had pricked his pony (which was 
 much more speedy than Julian's horse) into full gallop, pushed, 
 without ceremony, betwixt the courtier and his attendant, and ere 
 Chaubert had lime for more than one exclamation •, he upset both 
 horse and Frenchman 5 morhleu! thrilling from his tongue as he 
 rolled on the ground amongst the various articles of his occupation, 
 which escaping from the budget in which he bore them, lay 
 tumbled upon the highway in strange disorder ; while Lance, 
 springing from his palfrey, commanded his foeman to be still, 
 under no less a penalty than that of death, if he attempted to rise. 
 
 Before Chiffinch could avenge his trusty follower's downfall, his 
 own bridle was seized by Julian, who presented a pistol with the 
 other hand, and commanded him to stand or die. 
 
 Chiffinch, though effeminate, was no coward. He stood still as 
 commanded, and said, with firmiiess, " Rogue, you have taken me 
 ,at surprise. If you are a highwayman, there is my purse. Do us 
 no bodily harm, and spare the budget of spices and sauces.*' 
 
 " Look you, Master Chiffinch," said Peveril, " this is no time 
 for dallying. I am no highwayman, but a man of honour. Give me 
 back that packet which you stole from me the other nighty or, by 
 all that is good, I will send a brace of balls through you, and search 
 /or it at leisure." 
 
 " What night?— What packet! " answered Chiffinch, confused ; 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 319 
 
 yet willing to protract the time for the chance of assistance, or to 
 put Peveril off his guard. " I know nothing of what you mean. 
 If you are a man of honour, let me draw my sword, and I will do 
 you right, as a gentleman should do to another." 
 
 "Dishonourable rascal I " said Peveril, " you escape not in this 
 manner. You plundered me when you had me at odds \ and I am 
 not the fool to let my advantage escape, now that my turn is come. 
 Yield up the packet ^'and then, if you will, I will fight you on equal 
 terms. But first," he reiterated, " yield up the packet, or I will 
 instantly send you where the tenor of your life will be hard to an- 
 swer for." 
 
 The tone of Peveril's voice, the fierceness of his eye, and the 
 manner in which he held the loaded weapon, within a hand's- 
 breadth of Chiffinch's head, convinced the last there was neither 
 room for compromise, nor time for trifling. He thrust his hand 
 into a side-pocket of his cloak, and with visible reluctance produced 
 those papers and dispatches, with which Julian had been intrusted 
 by the Countess of Derby. 
 
 " They are five in number," said Julian ; " and you have given 
 me only four. Your life depends on full restitution." 
 
 " It escaped from my hand," said Chiffinch, producing the miss- 
 ing document — " There it is. Now, sir, your pleasure is fulfilled, 
 unless," he added, sulkily, " you design either murder or farther 
 robbery." 
 
 " Base wretch!" said Peveril, withdrawing his pistol, yet keep- 
 ing a watchful eye on Chiffinch's motions, "thou art unworthy 
 any honest man's sword 5 and yet, if you dare draw your own, as 
 you proposed but now, I am willing to give you a chance upon fair 
 equality of terms." 
 
 *' Equality!" said Chiffinch, sneeringly ^ " yes, a proper equal- 
 ity — sword and pistol against single rapier, and two men upon one, 
 for Chaubert is no fighter. No, sir, I shall seek amends upon some 
 more fitting occasion, and with more equal weapons." 
 
 " By backbiting, or by poison, base pander!" said Julian; "these 
 are thy means of vengeance. But mark me — I know your vile pur- 
 pose respecting a lady who is loo worthy that her name should be 
 uttered in such a worthless ear. Thou hast done me one injury, 
 and thou seesl I have repaid it. But prosecute this farther villainy, 
 and be assured I will put thee to death like a foul reptile, whose 
 very slaver is fatal to humanity. Rely upon this, as if Machiavel 
 had sworn it ; for §0 surely as you keep your purpose, so surely 
 will I prosecute my revenge. — Follow me. Lance, and leave him to 
 think on what I have told him." 
 
 Lance had, after the first shock, sustained a very easy part in 
 this rencontre; for all he had to do, was to point the butt of his 
 whip, in the manner of a gun, at the intimidated Frenchman, who, 
 
320 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 lying on his back, and gazing at random on the skies, had as little 
 the power or purpose of resistance, as any pig which had ever come 
 under his own slaughter-knife. 
 
 Summoned by his master from the easy duty of guarding such 
 an unresisting prisoner, Lance remounted his horse, and they both 
 rode off, leaving their discomfiled antagonists to console them- 
 selves for their misadventure as they best could. But consolation 
 was hard to come by in the circumstances. The French artist had 
 to lament the dispersion of his spices, and the destruction of his 
 magazine of sauces — an enchanter despoiled of his magic wand and 
 talisman, could scarce have been in more desperate extremity. 
 Chiffinch had to mourn the downfall of his intrigue, and its pre- 
 mature discovery. " To this fellow, at least," he thought, "■ I can 
 have bragged none -here my evil genius alone has betrayed me. 
 With this infernal discovery, which may cost me so dear on all 
 hands, champagne had nought to do. If there be a tlask left un- 
 broken, I will drink it after dinner, and try if it may not even yet 
 suggest some scheme of redemption and of revenge." 
 
 With this manly resolution, he prosecuted his Journey to 
 London. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Note, p. 309.— First Check to the Plot. 
 
 The first check received by Doctor Gates and his colleagues in the task of supporting 
 the Plot by their testimony, was in this manner .— A^fter a good deal of prevarication, the 
 prime witness at length made a direct charge against Sir George Wakeman, the Queen's 
 physician, of an attempt to poison the King, and even connected the Queen with this ac- 
 cusation, whom he represented as Wakeman's accomplice. This last piece of effrontery 
 recalled the King to some generous sentiments. *' The villains," said Charles, " think I 
 am tired of my wife; but they shall find I will not permit an innocent woman to be per- 
 secuted." Scroggs, the Lord Chief-Justice, accordingly received instructions to be fa- 
 vourable to the accused ; and, for the first time, he was so. Wakeman was acquitted, 
 but thought it more for his safety to retire abroad. His acquittal, however, indicated a 
 turn of the tide, which had'so long set in favour of the Plot, and of the witnesses by whom 
 it had hitherto been supported. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIL 
 
 A man so various, that he seemed to be 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome; 
 Stiff in opinions— always in the wrong — 
 Was every thing by starts, but nothing long ; 
 • Who, in the course of one revolving moon. 
 
 Was chemist, tiddler, statesman, and buffoon; 
 Then, all for women, painting, fiddling, drinking; 
 Besides a thousand freaks that died in thinking. 
 - Dryden. 
 
 We must now transport the reader to Ihe magnificent hotel 
 
 in street, inhabited at this lime by the celebrated George 
 
 Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, whom Dryden has doomed to a 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 321 
 
 painful immortality by the few lines which we have prefixed to this 
 chapter. Amid the gay and the licentious of the laughing court of 
 Charles, the Duke was the most licentious and most gay ; yet, 
 while expending a princely fortune, a strong constitution, and ex- 
 cellent talents, in pursuit of frivolous pleasures, he nevertheloss 
 nourished deeper and more extensive designs ; in which he only 
 failed from want of that fixed purpose and regulated perseverance 
 essential to all important enterprises, but particularly in politics. 
 
 It was long past noon ; and the usual hour of the Duke's levee— if 
 any thing could be termed usual where all was irregular — had 
 been long past. His hall was filled with lackeys and footmen, in the 
 most splendid liveries ; the interior apartments, with the gentlemen 
 and pages of his household, arrayed as persons of the first quality, 
 and, in that respect, rather exceeding than falling short of the 
 Duke in personal splendour. But his antechamber, in particular, 
 might be compared to a gathering of eagles to the slaughter, were 
 not the simile loo dignified to express that vile race, who, by a 
 hundred devices, all tending to one common end, live upon the 
 wants of needy greatness, or administer to the pleasures of summer- 
 teeming luxury, or stimulate the wild wishes of lavish and wasteful 
 extravagance, by devising new modes and fresh motives of pro- 
 fusion. There stood the Projector, with his mysterious brow, pro- 
 mising unbounded wealth to whomsoever might choose to furnish 
 the small preliminary sum necessary to change egg-shells into the 
 great arcanum. There was Captain Seagull, undertaker for a 
 foreign settlement, with the map under his arm of Indian or Ame- 
 rican kingdoms, beautiful as the primitive Eden, waiting the bold 
 occupants, for whom a generous patron should equip two brigan- 
 tines and a fly-boat. Thither came, fast and frequent, the gamesters, 
 in their different forms and calling. This, light, young, gay in ap- 
 pearance, the thoughtless youth of wit and pleasure — the pigeon 
 rather than the rook — but at heart the same sly, shrewd, cold- 
 blooded calculator, as yonder old hard-featured professor of the 
 same science, whose eyes are grown dim with watching the dice 
 at midnight, and whose fingers are even now assisting his mental 
 computation of chances and of odds. The fine arts, too—I would it 
 were otherwise — have their professors amongst this sordid train. 
 The poor poet, half ashamed, in spite of habit, of the part which 
 he is about to perform, and abashed by consciousness at once of his 
 base motive and his shabby black coat, lurks in yonder corner for 
 the favourable moment to offer his dedication. Much better attired, 
 the architect presents his splendid vision of front and wings, and 
 designs a palace, the expense of which may transfer bis employer 
 to a jail. But uppermost of all, the favourite musician, or singer, 
 who wails on my lord to receive, in solid gold, the value of the 
 dulcet sounds which solaced (he banquet of the preceding evening. 
 
 21 
 
322 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Such, and many such like, were the morning attendants of the 
 Duke of Buckingham — all genuine descendants of the daughter of 
 the horse-leech, whose cry is ''Give, give." 
 
 But the levee of his Grace contained other and very different 
 characters; and was indeed as various as his own opinions and 
 pursuits. Besides many of the young nobihly and wealthy gentry 
 of England, who made his Grace the glass at which they dressed 
 themselves for the day, and who learned from him how to travel, 
 -with the newest and best grace, the general Road to Ruin ; there 
 were others of a graver character — discarded statesmen, political 
 spies, opposition orators, servile tools of administration, men who 
 met not elsewhere, but who regarded the Duke's mansion as a sort 
 of neutral ground ; sure, that if he was not of their opinion to-day, 
 this very circumstance rendered it most likely he should think with 
 them to-morrow. The Puritans themselves did not shun intercourse 
 with a man whose talents must have rendered him formidable, even 
 if they had not been united with high rank and an immense fortune. 
 Several grave personages, with black suits, short cloaks, and 
 bandslrings of a formal cut, were mingled, as we see their portraits 
 in a gallery of paintings, among the gallants who ruffled in silk and 
 embroidery. It is true they escaped the scandal of being thought 
 intimates of the Duke, by their business being supposed to refer to 
 money matters. Whether these grave and professing citizens mixed 
 pontics with money-lending, was not known; but it had been long 
 observed, that the Jews, who in general confine themselves to the 
 latter department, had become for some time faithful attendants at 
 the Duke's levee. 
 
 It was high-tide in the antechamber, and had been so for more 
 than an hour, ere the Duke's gentleman in ordinary ventured into 
 his bedchamber, carefully darkened, so as to make midnight at 
 noon-day, to know his Grace's pleasure. His soft and serene 
 whisper, in which he asked whether it were his Grace's pleasure to 
 rise, was briefly and sharply answered by the counter questions, 
 " Who waits?— What's o'clock?" 
 
 " It is Jerningham, your Grace," said the attendant. " It is one 
 afternoon ; and your Grace appointed some of the people without at 
 eleven." 
 
 " Who are they?— What do they want?" 
 
 " A message from Whitehall, your Grace." 
 
 *' Pshaw! it will keep cold. Those who make all others wait, 
 will be the better of waiting in their turn. Were I to be guilty of 
 ill-breeding, it should rather be to a King than a beggar." 
 
 " The gentlemen from the city." 
 
 " I am tired of them — tired of their all cant, and no religion — all 
 Protestantism and no charity. Tell them to go to Shaftesbury— to 
 Aldersgate-street with them— that's the best market for their wares." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 323 
 
 ''Jockey, my lord, from Newmarket." 
 
 *' Lei him ride lo the devil — he has horse of mine, and spurs of 
 his own. Any more?" 
 
 '' The whole antechamber is full, my lord — knights and squires, 
 doctors and dicers." 
 
 ''The dicers, with their doctors ' in their pockets, I presume." 
 
 " Counts, captains, and clergymen." 
 
 "You are alliterative, Jerningham," said the Duke; " and that 
 is a proof you are poetical. Hand me my writing things." 
 
 Getting half out of bed — thrusting one arm into a brocade night- 
 gown, deeply furred with sables, and one foot into a velvet slipper, 
 while the other pressed in primitive nudity the rich carpet — his 
 Grace, without thinking farther on the assembly without, began to 
 pen a few lines of a satirical poem ; then suddenly stopped — threw 
 the pen into the chimney— exclaimed that the humour was past — 
 and asked his attendant if there were any letters. Jerningham pro- 
 duced a huge packet. 
 
 " What the devil!" said his Grace, " do you think I will read 
 all these? I am like Clarence, who asked a cup of wine, and was 
 souzed into a butt of sack. I mean is there any thing which presses?" 
 
 "This letter, your Grace," said Jerningham, " concerning the 
 Yorkshire mortgage." 
 
 " Did I not bid thee carry it to old Galheral, my steward?" 
 
 "I did, my lord," answered the other; "but Gatheral says 
 there are difficulties." 
 
 "Let the usurers foreclose, then — there is no difficulty in that; 
 and out of a hundred manors I shall scarce miss one," answered the 
 Duke. "And hark ye, bring me my chocolate." 
 
 "Nay, my lord, Gatheral does not say it is impossible — only 
 difficult." 
 
 ' ' And what is the use of him, if he cannot make it easy ? But you 
 are all born to make difficulties," replied the Duke. 
 
 "Nay, if your Grace approves the terms in this schedule, and 
 pleases lo sign it, Gatheral will undertake for the matter," answered 
 Jerningham. 
 
 " And could you not have said so at first, you blockhead?" 
 said the Duke, signing the paper without looking at the contents — 
 " What other letters? And remember, I must be plagued with no 
 more business." 
 
 " Billets-doux, my lord— five or six of them. This left at the 
 porter's lodge by a vizard mask." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " answered the Duke, tossing them over, while his at- 
 tendant assisted in dressing him — " an acquaintance of a quarter's 
 standing." 
 
 ! Doctor, i( cant name ioi false dice. 
 
324 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 "This given lo one of the pages by my Lady 's waiting- 
 woman." 
 
 " Plague on il — a Jeremiade on Ihe subject of pGrjury and 
 treachery, and not a single new line to the old tune," said the Duke, 
 glancing over the billet. " Here is the old cant — cruel man — 
 broken ojows — HeavevLS just revenge. Why, the woman is 
 thinking of murder — not of love. No one should pretend to write 
 upon so threadbare a topic without having at least some novelty of 
 expression. The despairing Araminta — Lie there, fair desperate. 
 And this — how comes it?" 
 
 " Flung into the window of the hall, by a fellow who ran off at 
 full speed," answered Jerningham. 
 
 " This is a belter text," said the Duke ; " and yet it is an old one 
 too — three weeks old at least — The litlle Countess with the jealous 
 lord — I should not care a farthing for her, save for that same jealous 
 lord — Plague on't, and he's gone down to Ihe country — this evening 
 — in silence and safety — written with a quill pulled from the 
 wing ofCupid-^Your ladyship has left him pen-fealhers enough to 
 fly away with — better clipped his wings when you had caught him, 
 my lady — and so confident of her Buckingham's faith — I hate 
 confidence in a young person — She must be taught better — I will 
 not go." 
 ' ' Your Grace will not be so cruel ! " said Jerningham. 
 ''Thou art a compassionate fellow, Jerningham 5 but conceit 
 must be punished." 
 
 " But if your lordship should resume your fancy for her?" 
 " Why, then, you must swear the billet-doux miscarried," an- 
 swered the Duke. '' And stay, a thought strikes me — it shall 
 miscarry in great style. Hark ye — Is — what is the fellow's name — 
 the poet — is he yonder?" 
 
 "There are six gentlemen, sir, who, from the reams of paper 
 in their pocket, and the threadbare seams at their elbows, appear 
 to wear the livery of the Muses." 
 
 " Poetical once more, Jerningham. He, I mean, who wrote the 
 last lampoon," said the Duke. 
 
 " To whom your Grace said you owed five pieces and a beating?" 
 replied Jerningham. 
 
 " The money for his satire, and the cudgel for his praise — Good 
 — find him — give him the five pieces, and thrust the Countess's 
 billet-doux — Hold— take Araminta's and the rest of them — thrust 
 them all into his portfolio — All will come out at the Wils' Coffee- 
 house^ and if the promulgator be not cudgelled into all the colours 
 of the rainbow, there is no spite in woman, no faith in crabtree, 
 or pith in heart of oak — Araminta's wrath alone would overburden 
 one pair of mortal shoulders." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 325 
 
 '' But, my Lord Duke," said his allendant, "this Sellle ' is so 
 dull a rascal, that nothing he can write will take." 
 
 " Then as we have given him steel to head the arrow," said the 
 Duke, '' we will give him wings to waft it with — wood he has 
 enough of his own to make a shaft or bolt of. Hand me my own 
 unfinished lampoon— give it to him with the letters — let him make 
 what he can of them all." 
 
 " My Lord Duke — I crave pardon— but your Grace's style will 
 be discovered ; and though the ladies' names are not at the letters, 
 yet they will be traced." 
 
 "I would have it so, you blockhead. Have you lived with me so 
 long, and cannot discover that the eclat of an intrigue is, with me, 
 worthall therestof it?" 
 
 "But the danger, my Lord Duke?" replied Jerningham. 
 "There are husbands, brothers, friends, whose revenge may be 
 awakened." 
 
 "And beaten to sleep again," said Buckingham, haughtily. " I 
 have Black Will and his cudgel for plebeian grumblers ; and those 
 of quality I can deal with myself. I lack breathing and exercise of 
 late ^" 
 
 " But yet your Grace" 
 
 "Hold your peace, fool! I tell you that your poor dwarfish 
 spirit cannot measure the ^cope of mine. I tell thee I would have 
 the course of my life a torrent — I am weary of easy achievements, 
 and wish for obstacles, that I can sweep before my irresistible 
 course." 
 
 Another gemleman now entered the apartment. "I humbly 
 crave your Grace's pardon," he said ; "but Master Christian is so 
 importunate for admission instantly, that I am obliged to take your 
 Grace's pleasure." 
 
 "Tell him to call three hours hence. Damn his politic pate, that 
 would make all men dance after his pipe!" 
 
 " I thank you for the compUment, my Lord Duke," said Chris- 
 tian, entering the apartment in somewhat a more courtly garb, but 
 with the same unpretending and undistinguished mien, and in the 
 same placid and indifferent manner with which he had accosted 
 Julian Peveril upon different occasions during his journey to London. 
 "It is precisely my present object to pipe to you 5 and you may 
 dance to your own profit, if you will." 
 
 "On my word. Master Christian," said the Duke, haughtily, 
 "the affair should be weighty, that removes ceremony so entirely 
 from betwixt us. If it relates to the subject of our last conversa- 
 
 ' Elkana Settle, the unworthy scribbler whom the envy of Rochester and others tried 
 to raise to public estimation, as a rival to Dryden ; a circumstance which has been the 
 means of elevating him to a very painful species of immortality. 
 
 =• Note I., p. 33t. Employment of Assassins in England. 
 
326 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 lion, I must request our interview be postponed to some further 
 opportunity. I am engaged in an affair of some weight." Then 
 turning his back on Christian, he went on wilh his conversation 
 with Jerningham. "Find the person you wot of, and give him 
 the papers ^ and hark ye, give him this gold to pay for the shaft 
 of his arrow — the sleel-head and peacock's wing we have aheady 
 provided." 
 
 ''This is all well, my lord," said Christian, calmly, and taking 
 his seat at the same time in an easy-chair at some distance; " but 
 your Grace's levity is no match for my equanimity. It is necessary 
 I should speak wilh you ; and I will await your Grace's leisure in 
 the apartment." 
 
 cc j^erf well, sir," said the Duke, peevishly; "if an evil is to 
 be undergone, the sooner it is over the better — I can take measures 
 to prevent its being renewed. So let me hear your errand without 
 further delay." 
 
 " I will wait till your Grace's toilette is completed," said Chris- 
 tian, wilh the indifferent tone which was natural to him. " What I 
 have to say must be between ourselves." 
 
 "Begone, Jerningham; and remain without till I call. Leave 
 my doublet on the couch. — How now ? I have worn this cloth of 
 silver a hundred times." 
 . " Only twice, if it please your Grace," replied Jerningham. 
 
 "As well twenty times— keep it for yourself, or give it to my 
 valet, if you are too proud of your gentility. 
 
 " Your Grace has made belter men than me wear your cast 
 clothes," said Jerningham, submissively. 
 
 " Thou art sharp, Jerningham," said the Duke — " in one sense 
 I have, and I may again. So now, that pearl-coloured thing will 
 do wilh the ribbon and George. Get away with thee. — And now 
 that he is gone. Master Christian, may I once more crave your 
 pleasure?" 
 
 " My Lord Duke," said Christian, " you are a worshipper of dif- 
 ficulties in state affairs, as in love matters." 
 
 " I trust you have been no eavesdropper. Master Christian," 
 replied the Duke ; " it scarce argues the respect due to me, or to 
 my roof." 
 
 " I know not what you mean, my lord," replied Christian. 
 
 "Nay, I care not if Ihe whole world heard what I said but now 
 to Jerningham. But to the matter," replied the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham. 
 
 "Your Grace is so much occupied wilh conquests oyer the fair 
 and over the witty, that you have perhaps forgotten what a slake 
 you have in the little Island of Man. 
 
 "Not a whit, Master Christian. I remember well enough that 
 my roundheaded falhcr-in-law, Fairfax, had the island from ihe 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 327 
 
 Long Parliament; and was ass enough to quit hold of it at the 
 Restoration, when, if he had closed his clutches, and held fast, Hke 
 a true bird of prey, as he should have done, he might have kept 
 it for him and his. It had been a rare thing to have had a little 
 kingdom — made laws of my own — had my Chamberlain with his 
 white staff — I would have taught Jerningham, in half a day, to look 
 as wise, walk as stiffly, and speak as sillily, as Harry Bennet '." 
 
 " You might have done this, and more, if it had pleased your 
 Grace."' 
 
 " Ay, and if it had pleased my Grace, thou, Ned Christian, 
 shouldst have been the Jack Ketch of my dominions." 
 
 "/your Jack Ketch, my lord?" said Christian, more in a lone 
 of surprise than of displeasure. 
 
 " Why, ay •, thou hast been perpetually intriguing against the 
 life of yonder poor old woman. It were a kingdom to thee to 
 gratify thy spleen with thy own hands. 
 
 " I only seek justice against the Countess," said Christian. 
 
 "• And the end of justice is always a gibbet," said the Duke. 
 
 "Be it so," answered Christian. "Well, the Countess is in the 
 Plot." 
 
 " The devil confound the Plot, as I beheve he first invented it!" 
 said the Duke of Buckingham ^ " I have heard of nothing else for 
 months. If one must go to hell, I would it were by some new road, 
 and in gentlemen's company. I should not like to travel with Gates, 
 Bedlow, and the rest of (hat famous cloud of witnesses." 
 
 " Your Grace is then resolved to forego all the advantages which 
 may arise? If the House of Derby fall under forfeiture, the grant to 
 Fairfax, now worthily represented by your Duchess, revives, and 
 you become the Lord and Sovereign of Man," 
 
 "In right of a woman," said the Duke; "but, in troth, my 
 godly dame owes me some advantage for having lived the first year 
 of our marriage with her and old Black Tom, her grim, fighting 
 puritanic father. A man might as well have married the Devil's 
 daughter, and set up housekeeping with his father-in-law *." 
 
 " I understand you are willing, then, to join your interest for 
 a heave at the House of Derby, my Lord Duke?" 
 
 "As they are unlawfully possessed of my wife's kingdom, they 
 certainly can expect no favour at my hand. But thou knowest there 
 is an interest at Whitehall predominant over mine." 
 
 "That is only by your Grace's sufferance," said Christian. 
 
 " No, no ; I tell thee a hundred times, no," said the Duke, rous- 
 ing himself to anger at the recollection. " I tell thee that base 
 
 ' Note IJI., p. 331. Earl of Arlington. 
 
 ' Mary, daughter of Thomas Lord Fairfax, was wedded to the Duke of Buckingham, 
 whose versatility rendered him as capable for a lime of tendering himself agreeable to 
 his father-in-law, though a rigid Presbyterian, as to the gay Charles II. 
 
328 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 courtesan, the Duchess of Portsmouth, hath impudently set herself 
 to thwart and contradict me; and Charles has given me both cloudy 
 looks and hard words before the Court. I would he could but guess 
 what is the offence between her and me! I would he but knew 
 that ! But I will have her plumes plucked, or my name is not Vil- 
 liers. A worthless French fille-de-joie to brave me thus! — Chris- 
 tian, thou art right; there is no passion so spirit-stirring as revenge. 
 I will patronise the Plot, if it be but to spile her, and make it im- 
 possible for the King to uphold her." 
 
 As the Duke spoke, he gradually wrought himself into a passion, 
 and traversed the apartment with as much vehemence as if the only 
 object he had on earth was to deprive the Duchess of her power 
 and favour with the King. Christian smiled internally to see him 
 approaching the slate of mind in which he was most easily worked 
 upon, and judiciously kept silence, until the Duke called out to 
 him, in a pet, " Well, Sir Oracle, you that have laid so many 
 schemes to supplant this she-wolf of Gaul, where are all your con- 
 trivances now? — Where is the exquisite beauty who was to catch 
 the Sovereign's eye at the first glance? — Chiffinch, hath he seen 
 her? — and what does he say, that exquisite critic in beauty and 
 blanc-mange, women and wine ? " 
 
 " He has seen and approves, but has not yet heard her ; and 
 her speech answers to all the rest. We came here yesterday ; and 
 to-day I intend to introduce Chiffinch to her, the instant he 
 arrives from the country ; and I expect him every hour. I am but 
 afraid of the damsel's peevish virtue, for she hath been brought up 
 after the fashion of our grandmothers — our mothers had better 
 sense." 
 
 " What ! so fair, so young, so quick-wilted, and so difficult ? " 
 said the Duke. '' By your leave, you shall introduce me as well 
 as Chiffinch." 
 
 " That your Grace may cure her of her intractable modesty ? " 
 said Christian. 
 
 *' Why," replied the Duke, "it will but teach her not to stand in 
 her own light. Kings do not love to court and sue; they should 
 have their game run down for them. " 
 
 " Under your Grace's favour," said Christian, " this cannot be 
 — non omnibus dormio — Your Grace knows the classic allusion. 
 If this maiden become a Prince's favourite, rank gilds the shame 
 and the sin. But to any under Majesty, she must not vail topsail." 
 
 " Why, Ihou suspicious fool, I was but in jest," said the Duke. 
 " Do you think I would interfere to spoil a plan so much to my 
 own advantage as that which you have laid before me?" 
 
 Christian smiled and shook his head. "My lord," he said, 
 " I know your Grace as well, or belter perhaps, than you know 
 yourself. To spoil a well-concerled intrigue by some cross stroke 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 329 
 
 of your own, would give you more pleasure than to bring it to a 
 successful termination according to the plans of others. But 
 Stiaftesbury, and all concerned, have determined that our scheme 
 shall at least have fair play. We reckon, therefore, on your help^ 
 and — forgive me when I say so — we will not permit ourselves to 
 be impeded by your levity and fickleness of purpose." 
 
 * ' Who ?—/ light and fickle of purpose ? " said the Duke. ' ' You 
 see me here as resolved as any of you, to dispossess the mistress, 
 and to carry on the Plot ; these are the only two things I live for 
 in this world. No one can play the man of business like me, when 
 I please, to the very filing and labelling of my letters. I am regular 
 as a scrivener." 
 
 " You have Chiffinch's letter from the country •, he told me he 
 had written to you about some passages betwixt him and the young 
 Lord Saville." 
 
 " He did so — he did so," said the Duke, looking among his 
 letters-, "but I see not his letter just now— I scarcely noted the 
 contents — I was busy when it came— but I have it safely." 
 
 " You should have acted on it," answered Christian. "The fool 
 suffered himself to be choused out of his secret, and prayed you 
 to see that my lord's messenger got not to the Duchess with some 
 dispatches which he sent up from Derbyshire, betraying our 
 mystery." 
 
 The Duke was now alarmed, and rang the bell hastily. Jer- 
 ningham appeared. " Where is the letter I had from Master Chif- 
 finch some hours since ? "| 
 
 " If it be not amongst those your Grace has before you, I know 
 nothing of it , said Jerningham. " I saw none such arrive." 
 
 " You lie, you rascal," said Buckingham j "have you a right to 
 remember better than I do ? " 
 
 " If your Grace will forgive me reminding you, you have scarce 
 opened a letter this week," said his gentleman. 
 
 " Did you ever hear such a provoking rascal! " said the Duke. 
 " He might be a witness in the Plot. He has knocked my cha- 
 racter for regularity entirely on the head with his damned counter- 
 evidence." 
 
 "Your Grace's talent and capacity will at least remain unim- 
 peached," said Christian ^ " and it is those that must serve your- 
 self and your friends. If I might advise, you will hasten to Court, 
 and lay some foundation for the impression we wish to make. 
 If your Grace can take the first word, and throw out a hint to 
 crossbite Saville, it will be well. But above all, keep the King's 
 ear employed, which no one can do so well as you. Leave Chif- 
 finch to fill his heart with a proper object. Another thing is, 
 there is a blockhead of an old Cavalier, who must needs be a bus- 
 
330 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 tier in the Countess of Derby's behalf— he is fast in hold, wilh the 
 whole tribe of witnesses at his haunches." 
 
 " Nay, then, take him, Topham." 
 
 "Topham has taken him already, my lord," said Christian; 
 " and there is, besides, a young gallant, a son of the said Knight, 
 who was bred in the household of the Countess of Derby, and who 
 has brought letters from her to the Provincial of the Jesuits, and 
 others in London." 
 
 " What are their names ? " said the Duke, dryly.| 
 
 " Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Marlindale Castle, in Derbyshire, and 
 his son Julian." 
 
 *'Whal! Peveril of the Peak?"— said the Duke,—" a stout old 
 Cavalier as ever swore an oath — A Worcester-man, too — and, in 
 truth, a man of all work, when blows were going? I will not consent 
 to his ruin. Christian. These fellows must be flogged off such false 
 scents — flogged in every sense, they must, and will be, when the 
 nation comes to its eyesight again." 
 
 "It is of more than the last importance, in the meantime, to 
 the furtherance of our plan," said Christian, " that your Grace 
 should stand for a space between them and the King's favour. The 
 youth hath influence with the maiden, which we should find scarce 
 favourable to our views •, besides, her father holds him as he can 
 any one who is no such puritanic fool as himself." 
 
 " Well, most Christian Christian," said the Duke, " I have 
 heard your commands at length. I will endeavour to slop the 
 earths under the throne, that neither the lord, knight, nor squire 
 in question, shall find it possible to burrow there. For the fair 
 one, I must leave Chiffinch and you to manage her introduction 
 to her high destinies, since I am not to be trusted. Adieu, most 
 Christian Christian." 
 
 He fixed his eyes on him, and then exclaimed, as he shut the 
 door of the apartment, — "Most profligate and damnable villain! 
 And what provokes me most of all, is the knave's composed in- 
 solence. Your Grace will do this— and your Grace will condescend 
 to do that — A pretty puppet I should be, to play the second part, 
 or rather the third, in such a scheme! No, they shall all walk 
 according to my purpose, or I will cross them. I will find this 
 girl out in spite of them, and judge if their scheme is likely to be 
 successful. If so, she shall be mine — mine enlirely, before she 
 becomes the King's^ and I will command her who is to guide 
 Charles.— Jerningham * " ( his gentleman entered ), " cause Chris- 
 tian to be dogged wherever he goes, for the next four-and-lwenly 
 hours, and find out where he visits a female newly come to town. — 
 You smile, you knave? " 
 
 ! Nole III., p. 3^1. Letter from the Dead to the Living. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 331 
 
 '* I did but suspect a fresh rival to Araminta and Ihe little Coun- 
 tess," said Jerningham. 
 
 " Away to your business, knave," said the Duke, '' and let me 
 think of mine. — To subdue a Puritan in Esse — a King's favourite 
 in Posse — the very muster of western beaulies — that is point first. 
 The impudence of this Manx mongrel to be corrected — the pride 
 of Madame la Duchessc to be pulled down — an important state 
 intrigue to be furthered, or baffled, as circumstances render most 
 to my own honour and glory — I wished for business but now, and 
 I have got enough of it. But Buckingham will keep his own 
 steerage- way through shoal and through weather." 
 
 NOTES TO CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Note I., p. 325.— Ejiplotsient of Assassins in England. 
 
 It was the unworthy distinction of men of wit and honour about town, to revenge their 
 own quarrels with inferior persons by the hands of bravoes. Even in the days of chi- 
 valry, the knights, as may be learned from Don Quixote, turned over to the chastisement 
 of their squires such adversaries as were not dubb'd ; and thus it was not unusual for men 
 of quality in Charles ll.'s time, to avenge their wrongs by means of private assassination. 
 Rochester writes composedly concerning a satire imputed to Dryden, but in reality com- 
 posed by Mulgrave. " If he falls upon me with the blunt, which is his very good weapon 
 in wit, I will forgive him, if you please, and leave the repartee to Black Will with a cudgel." 
 And, in conformity with this cowardly and brutal intimation, that distinguished poet was 
 waylaid and beaten severely in Rose-street, Covent Garden, by ruffians who could not 
 be discovered, but whom all concluded to be the agents of Rochester's mean revenge. 
 
 Note II., p. 327.— Earl of Aklington. 
 
 Bennet, Earl of Arlington, was one of Charles's most attached courtiers during his exile. 
 After the Restoration, he was employed in the ministry, and the name of Bennet supplies 
 its initial B to the celebrated word Cabal. But the King was supposed to have lost respect 
 for him ; and several persons at court took the liberty to mimic his person and beha^ 
 viour, which was stiff and formal. Thus it was a common jest for some courtier to put a 
 black patch on his nose, and strut about with a white staff in his hand, to make the King 
 merry. But, notwithstanding, he retained his office of Lord Chamberlain and his seat in 
 the Privy Council, till his death in 1685. 
 
 Note III., p. 330.— Letter from the Dead to the Living. 
 
 The application of the very respectable old English name of Jerningham to the valet- 
 de-chambre of the Duke of Buckingham, has proved offeree sufficient to wake the resent- 
 ment of the dead, who had in early days worn that illustrious surname,— for the author 
 received by post the following expostulation on the subject .- 
 
 " To the learned Clerk and worshipful Knight, Sir Walter Scott, give these: 
 
 " Mye mortal frame has long since mouldered into dust, and the young saplinge that 
 was planted on the daye of mye funeral, is now a doddered oak, standinge hard bye the 
 mansion of the familie. The windes doe whistle thro' its leaves, moaninge among its 
 moss-covered branches, and awakening in ihe soules of my descendants, that pensive 
 melancholy which leads back to the contemplating those that are gone!— I, who was once 
 the courtly dame, that held high revelry in these gaye bowers, am now light as the blast ! 
 
 '• If I essaye, from vain affection, to make my name be thought of by producing the 
 noise of rustlinge silkes, or the slow tread of a midnight foot along the chapel floor, alas ! 
 1 only scare the simple maidens, and my wearie efforts (how wearie none alive can tell) 
 are derided and jeered at, by my knighllie descendants. Once indeed— but it boots not to 
 burthen your ear with this particular, nor why I am still sad and aching, between earth 
 
332 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 and heaven ! Know only, that I still walk this place (as mye playmate, your great-grand- 
 mother, does hers)^ I sit in my wonted chair, tho' now it stands in a dusty garret. I fre 
 quent my lady's room, and I have hushed her walling babes, when all the cunning of the 
 nurse has failed. I sit at the window where so long a succession of honorable dames have 
 presided their daye, and are passed away ! But in the change that centuries brought, 
 honor and truth have remained ; and, as adherents to King Harry's eldest daughter, as 
 true subjects to her successors, as faithful followers of the unfortunate Charles and his 
 posteritie, and as loyal and attached servauntes of the present royal stock, the name of 
 Jemingham has ever remained unsullied in honour, and uncontaminated in aught unliiling 
 its ancient knightlie origin. You, noble and learned sir, whose quill is as the trumpet 
 arousinge the sluraberinge soule to feelings of loftiechivalrie,— you. Sir Knight, who feet 
 and doe honour to your noble lineage, wherefore did you say, in your chronicle or historic 
 of the brave knight, Peveril of the Peake, that my lord of Buckingham's servaunte was a 
 Jerningham ! ! ! a vile varlet to a viler noble I Many honourable families have, indeed, 
 shot and spread from the parent stock into wilde entangled mazes, and reached perchance 
 beyond the confines of gentle blood; but it so pleased Providence, that mye worshipful 
 husband, good Sir Harry's line, has flowed in one confined, but clear deep stream, down 
 to mye well-beloued son, the present Sir George Jerningham (by just claim Lorde Staf- 
 forde) ; and if any of your courtly ancestors that hover round your bed, could speak, 
 they would tell you that the Duke's valet was not Jerningham, but Sayer or Sims.— Act 
 as you shall think mete hereon, but defend the honoured names of those whose champion 
 you so well deserve to be. 
 
 " J. Jernihgham." 
 
 Having no mode of knowing how to reply to this ancient dignitary, I am compelled to 
 lay the blame of my error upon wicked example, which has misled me ; and to plead that 
 I should never have been guilty of so great a misnomer, but for the authority of one Oliver 
 Goldsmith, who, in an elegant dialogue between the Lady Blarney and Miss Carolina 
 Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs, makes the former assure Miss Skeggs as a fact, that the next 
 morning my lord called out three times to his valet-de-chambre, " Jernigan, Jernigan, 
 Jernigan! bring me my garters! " Some inaccurate recollection of this passage has occa- 
 sioned the offence rendered, for which I make this imperfect, yet respectful apology. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Mark you this, Bassanio.- 
 
 The devil can quote scripture for his purpose. 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 After leaving the proud mansion of the Duke of Buckingham, 
 Christian, full of the deep and treacherous schemes which he me- 
 ditated, hastened to the city, where, in a decent inn, kept by a per- 
 son of his own persuasion, he had been unexpectedly summoned 
 to meet with Ralph Bridgenorth of Moultrassie. He was not disap- 
 pointed — the Major had arrived that morning, and anxiously ex- 
 pected him. The usual gloom of his countenance was darkened into 
 a yet deeper shade of anxiety, which was scarcely relieved, even 
 while, in answer to his enquiry after his daughter, Christian gave 
 the most favourable account of her health and spirits, naturally and 
 unaffectedly intermingled with such praises of her beauty and her 
 disposition, as were likely to be most grateful to a father's car. 
 
 But Christian had too much cunning to expatiate on this theme^ 
 however soothing. He stopped short exactly at the point where, as 
 an affectionate relative, he might be supposed to have said enough. 
 "The lady," he said, " with whom he had placed Alice, was de- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. *^3H 
 
 lighted with her aspect and manners, and undertook to be respon- 
 sible for her health and happiness. He had not, he said, deserved so 
 little confidence at the hand of his brother, Bridgenorlh, as that 
 the Major should, contrary to his purpose, and to the plan which 
 they had adjusted together, have hurried up from the country, as if 
 his own presence were necessary for Alice's protection." 
 
 " Brother Christian," said Bridgenorlh in reply, ''I must see my 
 child — I must see this person with whom she is intrusted." 
 
 " To what purpose?" answered Christian. " Have you not often 
 confessed that the over excess of Ihe carnal affection which you 
 have entertained for your daughter, had been a snare to you? — 
 Have you not, more than once, been on the point of resigning those 
 great designs which should place righteousness as a counsellor 
 beside the throne, because you desired to gratify your daughter's 
 girlish passion for this descendant of your old persecutor — this 
 Julian Peveril?" 
 
 " I own it," said Bridgenorlh ^ " and worlds would I have given, 
 and would yet give, to clasp that youth to my bosom, and call hinj 
 my son. The spirit of his mother looks from his eye, and his stately 
 step is as that of his father, when he daily spoke comfort to me in 
 my distress, and said, ' The child liveth.' " 
 
 "But the youth walks," said Christian, " after his own lights, and 
 mistakes the meteor of the marsh for the Polar star. Ralph Bridge- 
 north, I will speak to thee in friendly sincerity. Thou must not 
 think to serve both the good cause and Baal. Obey, if thou wilt, 
 thine own carnal affections, summon this Julian Peveril to thy house, 
 and let him wed thy daughter — But mark the reception she will 
 meet with from the proud old knight, whose spirit is now, even 
 now, as little broken with his chains, as after the sword of the Saints 
 had prevailed at Worcester. Thou wilt see thy daughter spurned 
 from his feet like an outcast." 
 
 ''Christian," said Bridgenorlh, interrupting him, *'thou dost 
 urge me hard j but thou dost it in love, my brother, and I forgive 
 thee — Alice shall never be spurned. — But this friend of thine — this 
 lady— thou art my child's uncle ; and after me, thou art next to her 
 in love and affection— Still, thou art not her father — hast not her 
 father's fears. Art thou sure of the character of this woman to whom 
 my child is intrusted?" 
 
 " Am I sure of my own? — Am I sure that my name is Christian 
 — yours Bridgenorlh?— Is it a thing I am likely to be insecure in? 
 — Have I not dwelt for many years in this city? Do I not know this 
 Court? — And am I likely to be imposed upon? For I will not think 
 you can fear my imposing upon you." 
 
 ''Thou art my brother," said Bridgenorlh — " the blood and bone 
 of my departed Saint— and I am determined that I will trust tliee 
 in this matter." 
 
534 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " Thou dost well," said Christian ; ''and who knows what reward 
 may be in store for thee? — I cannot look upon Alice, but it is strong- 
 ly borne in on my mind, that there will be work for a creature so 
 excellent beyond ordinary women. Courageous Judith freed Be- 
 thulia by her valour, and the comely features of Esther made her a 
 safeguard and a defence to her people in the land of captivity, when 
 she found favour in the sight of King Ahasuerus." 
 
 " Be it with her as Heaven wills," said Bridgenorth •, " and now 
 tell me what progress there is in the great work." 
 
 "The people are weary of the iniquity of this Court," said 
 Christian ^ " and if this man will continue to reign, it must be by 
 calling to his councils men of another stamp. The alarm excited 
 by the damnable practices of (he Papists, has called up men's souls, 
 and awakened their eyes, lo the dangers of their stale. — He him- 
 self — for he will give up brother and wife lo save himself — is not 
 averse to a charge of measures ; and though we cannot at first see 
 the Court purged as wilh a winnowing fan, yet there will be enough 
 of the good to control the bad — enough of the sober parly to com- 
 pel the grant of that universal toleration, for which we have sighed 
 so long, as a maiden for her beloved. Time and opportunity will 
 lead the way to more thorough reformation ; and that will be done 
 wilhout stroke of sword, which our friends failed lo establish on a 
 sure foundation, even when their victorious blades were in their 
 hands." 
 
 '' May God grant it I" said Bridgenorth 5 " for I fear me I should 
 scruple to do aught which should once more unsheath the civil 
 sword •, but welcome all that comes in a peaceful and parliament- 
 ary way." 
 
 "Ay," said Christian, "and which will bring with it the bitter 
 amends, which our enemies have so long merited at our hands. 
 How long hath our brother's blood cried for vengeance from the 
 allar! — ^Now shall that cruel French woman find that neither lapse 
 of years, nor her powerful friends, nor the name of Stanley, nor 
 the Sovereignty of Man, shall stop the stern course of the pursuer 
 of blood. Her name shall be struck from the noble, and her heri- 
 tage shall another take." 
 
 "Nay, but, brother Christian," said Bridgenorth, " art thou not 
 over eager in pursuing this thing? — It is thy duty as a Christian to 
 forgive thine enemies." 
 
 "Ay, but not the enemies of Heaven — not those who shed the 
 blood of the saints," said Christian, his eyes kindling wilh that 
 vehement and fiery expression which at times gave to his uninterest- 
 ing countenance the only character of passion which it ever ex- 
 hibited. " No, Bridgenorth," he continued, "I esteem this purpose 
 of revenge holy — I account it a propitiatory sacrifice for what may 
 have been evil in my Ufe. I have submitted to be spurned by the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 335 
 
 haughty — I have humbled myself to be as a servant ; but in my 
 breast was the proud thought, I, who do this— do it that I may 
 avenge my brother's blood." 
 
 '' Still, my brother," said Bridgenorth, '' although I participate 
 the purpose, and have aided thee against this Moabitish woman, I 
 cannot but think thy revenge is more after the law of Moses than 
 after the law of love." 
 
 "This comes well from thee, Ralph Bridgenorth," answered 
 Christian j "from thee, who hast just smiled over the downfall of 
 thine own enemy ! " 
 
 " If you mean Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Bridgenorth, " I smile 
 not on his ruin. It is well he is abased; but if it lies with me, I 
 may humble his pride, but will never ruin his house." 
 
 "You know your purpose best," said Christian; "and I do 
 justice, brother Bridgenorth, to the purity of your principles ; but 
 men who see with but worldly eyes, would discern little purpose of 
 mercy in the strict magistrate and severe creditor — and such have 
 you been to Peveril." 
 
 " And, brother Christian," said Bridgenorth, his colour rising as 
 he spoke, " neither do I doubt your purpose, nor deny the surpris- 
 ing address with which you have procured such perfect information 
 concerning the purposes of yonder woman of Ammon. But it is 
 free to me to think, that in your intercourse with the Court, and 
 with courtiers, you may, in your carnal and worldly policy, sink 
 the value of those spiritual gifts, for which you were once so much 
 xjelebrated among the brethren." 
 
 " Do not apprehend it," said Christian, recovering his temper, 
 which had been a little ruffled by the previous discussion. " Let 
 us but work together as heretofore ; and I trust each of us shall be 
 found doing the work of a faithful servant to that good old cause 
 for which we have heretofore drawn the sword." 
 
 So saying, he look his hat, and bidding Bridgenorth farewell, 
 declared his intention of returning in the evening. 
 
 " Fare thee weil !" said Bridgenorth ; " to that cause wilt thou 
 find me ever a true and devoted adherent. I will act by that coun- 
 sel of thine, and will not even ask thee — though it may grieve my 
 heart as a parent — with whom, or where, thou hast intrusted my 
 child. I will try to cut off, and cast from me, even my right hand, 
 and my right eye ; but for thee. Christian, if thou dost deal other- 
 wise than prudently and honestly in this matter, it is what God and 
 man will require at thy hand." 
 
 "Fear not me," said Christian, hastily, and left the place, agi- 
 tated by reflections of no pleasant kind. 
 
 " I ought to have persuaded him to return," he said, as he step- 
 ped out into the street. "Even his hovering in this neighbour- 
 hood may spoil the plan on which depends the rise of my fortunes 
 
336 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 —ay, and of his child's. Will men say I have ruined her, when I 
 shall have raised her to the dazzling height of the Duchess of Ports- 
 mouth, and perhaps made her mother to a long line of Princes? 
 Chiffinch hath vouched for opportunity •, and the voluptuary's for- 
 tune depends on his gratifying the taste of his master for variety. 
 If she makes an impression, it must be a deep one ; and once seated 
 in his affections, I fear not her being supplanted. — What will her 
 father say ? Will he, like a prudent man, put his shame in his pocket, 
 because it is well gilded? or will he think it fitting to make a dis- 
 play of moral wrath and parental frenzy? I fear the latter — He has 
 ever kept too strict a course to admit his conniving at such license. 
 But what will his anger avail? — I need not be seen in the matter 
 — those who are, will care little for the resentment of a country 
 Puritan. And after all, what I am labouring to bring about is best 
 for himself, the wench, and above all, for me, Edward Christian." 
 
 With such base opiates did this unhappy wretch stifle his own 
 conscience, while anticipating the disgrace of his friend's family, 
 and the ruin of a near relative, committed in confidence to his 
 charge. The character of this man was of no common description 5 
 nor was it by an ordinary road that he had arrived at the present 
 climax of unfeeling and infamous selfishness. 
 
 Edward Christian, as the reader is aware, was the brother of 
 that William Christian, who was the principal instrument in deli- 
 vering up the Island of Man to the RepubHc, and who became the 
 victim of the Countess of Derby's revenge on that account. Both 
 had been educated as Puritans, but William was a soldier, which 
 somewhat modified the strictness of his religious opinions ; Edward, 
 a civilian, seemed to entertain these principles in the utmost rigour. 
 But it was only seeming. The exactness of deportment, which pro- 
 cured him great honour and influence among the sober party, 
 as they were wont to term themselves, covered a voluptuous dis- 
 position, the gratification of which was sweet to him as stolen 
 waters, and pleasant as bread eaten in secret. While, therefore, his 
 seeming godliness brought him worldly gain, his secret pleasures 
 compensated for his outward austerity \ until the Restoration, and 
 the Countess's violent proceedings against his brother, interrupted 
 the course of both. He then fled from his native island, burning 
 with the desire of revenging his brother's death — the only passion 
 foreign to his own gratification which he was ever known to che- 
 rish, and which was also at least partly selfish, since it concerned 
 the restoration of his own fortunes. 
 
 He found easy access to Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, who, in 
 right of his Duchess, claimed such of the Derby estates as had been 
 bestowed by the Parliament on his celebrated father-in-law. Lord 
 Fairfax. His influence at the Court of Charles, where a jest was a 
 belter plea than a long claim of faithful service, was so successfully 
 
PEVERir< OF THE PEAK. . 337 
 
 exerted, as to contribute greatly lo the depression of that loyal and 
 ill-rewarded family. But Buckingham was incapable, even for his 
 own inleresl, of pursuing the steady course which Christian sug- 
 gested to him ; and his vacillation probably saved the remnant of 
 the large estates of the Earl of Derby. 
 
 Meantime, Christian was too useful a follower to be dismissed. 
 From BucWngham, and others of that stamp, he did not affect to 
 conceal the laxity of his morals j but, towards the numerous and 
 powerful party to which he belonged, he was able to disguise them 
 by a seeming gravity of exterior, which he never laid aside. Indeed, 
 so wide and absolute was then the distinction betwixt the Court 
 and the city, that a man might have for some lime played two seve- 
 ral parts, as in two different spheres, without its being discovered 
 in the one that he exhibited himself in a different light in the other. 
 Besides, when a man of talent shows himself an able and useful 
 partisan, his party will continue lo protect and accredit him, in 
 spile of conduct the most contradictory to their own principles. 
 Some facts are, in such cases, denied — some are glossed over— and 
 party zeal is permitted to cover at least as many defects as ever 
 doth charity. 
 
 Edward Christian had often need of the partial indulgence of his 
 friends •, but he experienced it, for he was eminently useful. Buck- 
 ingham, and other courtiers of the same class, however dissolute 
 in their lives, were desirous of keeping some connexion with the 
 Dissenting or Puritanic party, as it was termed j thereby to 
 strengthen themselves against their opponents at Court. In such 
 intrigues, Christian was a notable agent j and at one lime had 
 nearly procured an absolute union between a class which professed 
 the most rigid principles of religion and morality, and the latilu- 
 dinarian courtiers, who set all principle at defiance. 
 
 Amidst the vicissitudes of a life of intrigue, during which Buck- 
 ingham's ambitious schemes and his own repeatedly sent him 
 across the Atlantic, it was Edward Christian's boast that he never 
 lost sight of his principal object — revenge on the Countess of Derby. 
 He maintained a close and intimate correspondence with his native 
 island, so as lo be perfectly informed of whatever took place there, 
 and he stimulated, on every favourable opportunity, the cupidity 
 of Buckingham to possess himself of this petty kingdom, by pro- 
 curing the forfeiture of its present Lord. It was not difficult to keep 
 his patron's wild wishes alive on this topic, for his own mercurial 
 imagination attached particular charms to the idea of becoming a 
 sort of sovereign even in this little island •, and he was, like Catiline, 
 as covetous of the property of others, as he was profuse of his own. 
 
 But it was not until the pretended discovery of the Papist Plot 
 that the schemes of Christian could be brought to ripen \ and then, 
 so odious were the Catholics in the eyes of the credulous people of 
 
 22 
 
,138 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 England, that, upon the accusation of the most infamous of man- 
 kind, common informers, the scourings of jails, and the refuse of 
 the whipping-post, the most atrocious charges against persons of 
 the highest rank and fairest character, were readily received and 
 credited. 
 
 This was a period which Christian did not fail to improve. He 
 drew close his intimacy with Bridgenorth, which had indeed never 
 been interrupted, and readily engaged him in his schemes, which, 
 in the eyes of his brother-in-law, were alike honourable and pa- 
 triotic. But, while he flattered Bridgenorth with the achieving a 
 complele reformation in the stale — checking the profligacy of the 
 Court — relieving the consciences of the Dissenters from the pres- 
 sure of the penal laws — amending, in fine, the crying grievances 
 of the time — while he showed him also, in prospect, revenge upon 
 the Countess of Derby, and a humbling dispensation on the House 
 of Peveril, from whom Bridgenorth had suffered slich indignity, 
 Christian did not neglect, in the meanwhile, to consider how he 
 could best benefit himself by the confidence reposed in him by his 
 unsuspicious relation. 
 
 The extreme beauty of Alice Bridgenorth — the great wealth 
 which time and economy had accumulated on her father— pointed 
 her out as a most desirable match to repair the wasted fortunes of 
 some of the followers of the Court ; and he flattered himself that he 
 could conduct such a negotiation so as to be in a high degree con- 
 ducive to his own advantage. He found there would be little dif- 
 ficulty in prevailing on Major Bridgenorth to intrust him with the 
 guardianship of his daughter. That unfortunate gentleman had 
 accustomed himself, from the very period of her birth, to regard 
 the presence of his child as a worldly indulgence too great to be 
 allowed to him •, and Christian had little trouble in convincing him, 
 that the strong inclination which he felt to bestow her on Julian 
 Peveril, provided he could be brought over to his own political 
 opinions, was a blamable compromise with his more severe prin- 
 ciples. Late circumstances had taught him the incapacity and un- 
 fitness of Dame Debbitch for the sole charge of so dear a pledge ; 
 and he readily and thankfully embraced the kind off'er of her ma- 
 ternal uncle. Christian, to place Alice under the protection of a 
 lady of rank in London, whilst he himself was to be engaged in the 
 scenes of bustle and blood, which, in common with all good Pro- 
 testants, he expected were speedily to take place on a general ris- 
 king of the Papists, unless prevented by the active and energetic 
 measures of the good people of England. He even confessed his 
 fears, that his partial regard for Alice's happiness might enervate 
 his efforts in behalf of his country j and Christian had little trouble 
 in eliciting from him a promise, that he would forbear to enquire 
 lifter her for some time. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 339 
 
 Thus certain of being the temporary guardian of his niece for a 
 space long enough, he flattered himself, for the execution of his 
 purpose, Christian endeavoured to pave the way by consulting Chif- 
 finch, whose known skill in Court policy qualified him best as an 
 adviser on this occasion. But this worthy person, being, in fact, a 
 purveyor for his Majesty's pleasures, and on that account high in 
 his good graces, thought it fell within the line of his duty to suggest 
 another scheme than that on which Christian consulted him. A 
 woman of such beauty as Alice was described, he deemed more 
 worthy to be a partaker of the affections of the merry Monarch, 
 whose taste in female beauty was so exquisite, than to be made the 
 wife of some worn-out prodigal of quality. And then, doing per- 
 fect justice to his own character, he felt it would not be one whit 
 impaired, while his fortune would be, in every respect, greatly 
 amended, if, after sharing the short reign of the Gwyns, theDavises, 
 the Robertses, and so forth, Alice Bridgenorth should retire from 
 the state of a royal favourite, into the humble condition of Mrs. 
 Chiffinch. 
 
 After cautiously sounding Christian, and finding that the near 
 prospect of interest to himself efTeclually prevented his starting at 
 this iniquitous scheme, Chiffinch detailed it to him fully, carefully 
 keeping the final termination out of sight, and talking of the favour 
 to be acquired by the fair Alice as no passing caprice, but the com- 
 mencement of a reign as long and absolute as that of the Duchess 
 of Portsmouth, of whose avarice and domineering temper Charles 
 was now understood to be much tired, though the force of habit 
 rendered him unequal to free himself of her yoke. 
 
 Thus chalked out, the scene prepared was no longer the scheme 
 of a Court pander, and a villainous resolution for the ruin of an 
 innocent girl, but became a slate intrigue, for the removal of an 
 obnoxious favourite, and the subsequent change of the King's senti- 
 ments upon various material points, in which he was at present 
 influenced by the Duchess of Portsmouth. In this light it was 
 exhibited to the Duke of Buckingham who, either to sustain his cha- 
 racter for daring gallantry, or in order to gratify some capricious 
 fancy, had at one time made love to the reigning favourite, and 
 experienced a repulse which he had never forgiven. 
 
 But one scheme was too little to occupy the active and enterpris- 
 ing spirit of the Duke. An appendix of the Popish Plot was easily 
 so contrived as to involve the Countess of Derby, who, from cha- 
 racter and religion, was precisely the person whom the credulous 
 part of the public were inclined to suppose the likely accomplice of 
 such a conspiracy. Christian and Bridgenorth undertook the peri- 
 lous commission of attacking her even in her own little kingdom of 
 Man, and had commissions for this purpose, which were only to be 
 produced in case of their scheme taking effect. 
 
340 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 It miscarried, as the reader is aware, from Ihe Countess's alert 
 preparations for defence •, and neither Christian nor Bridgenorlh 
 hdd it sound policy to practise openly, even under parliamenlary 
 authority, against a lady so little liable to hesitate upon the measures 
 most likely (o secure her feudal sovereignly, wisely considering, 
 that even the omnipotence, as it has been somewhat too largely 
 styled, of Parliament, might fail to relieve them from the personal 
 consequences of a failure. 
 
 On the continent of Britain, however, no opposition was to be 
 feared •, and so well was Christian acquainted with all the motions 
 in the interior of the Countess's little court, or household, that Pe- 
 veril would have been arrested the instant he set foot on shore, but 
 for the gale of wind, which obliged the vessel, in which he was a 
 passenger, to run for Liverpool. Here Christian, under the name of 
 Ganlesse, unexpectedly met with him, and preserved him from the 
 fangs of the well-breathed witnesses of the Plot, with the purpose of 
 securing his dispatches, or, if necessary, his person also in such a 
 manner as to place him at his own discretion — a narrow and perilous 
 game, which he thought it better, however, to undertake, than to 
 permit these subordinate agents, who were always ready to mutiny 
 against all in league with them, to obtain the credit which they must 
 have done by the seizure of the Countess of Derby's papers. It was, 
 besides, essential to Buckingham's schemes that these should not 
 pass into the hands of a public officer like Topham, who, however 
 pompous and stupid, was upright and well-intentioned, until they 
 had undergone the revisal of a private committee, where something 
 might have probably been suppressed, even supposing Ihat nothing 
 had been added. In short. Christian, in carrying on his own se- 
 parate and peculiar intrigue, by the agency of the Great Popish 
 Plot, as it was called, acted just like an engineer, who derives the 
 principle of motion which turns his machinery, by means of a 
 steam-engine, or large water-wheel, constructed to drive a separate 
 and larger engine. Accordingly, he was determined that, while he 
 look all Ihe advantage he could from their supposed discoveries, no 
 one should be permitted to tamper or interfere with his own plans 
 of profit and revenge. 
 
 Chiffinch, who, desirous of satisfying himself with his own eyes 
 of that excellent beauty which had been so highly extolled, had gone 
 down to Derbyshire on purpose, was infinitely deUghted, when, 
 during the course of a two hours' sermon at the dissenting chapel 
 in Liverpool, which alTorded him ample leisure for a deliberate 
 survey, he arrived at the conclusion that he had never seen a form 
 or face more captivating. His eyes having confirmed what was told 
 him, he hurried back to the little inn which formed their place of 
 rendezvous, and there awaited Christian and his niece, with a de- 
 gree of confidence in the success of their project which he had not 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 34 1 
 
 before on(erlained •, and with an apparatus of luxury, ealculaled, as 
 he thought, to make a favourable impression on the mind of a rustic 
 girl. He was somewhat surprised, when, instead of AHce Bridge- 
 north, to whom he expected that night to have been introduced, he 
 found that Christian was accompanied by Juhan Peveril. Il was in- 
 deed a severe disappointment, for he had prevailed on his own in- 
 dolence to venture thus far from the Court, in order that he might 
 judge, with his own paramount taste, whether Alice was really the 
 prodigy which her uncle's praises had bespoken her, and, as such, 
 a victim worthy of the fate to which she was destined. 
 
 A few words betwixt the worthy confederates determined them 
 on the plan of stripping Peveril of the Countess's dispatches ; Cliif- 
 fmch absolutely refusing to take any share in arresting him, as a 
 matter of which his Master's approbation might be very uncertain. 
 
 Christian had also his own reasons for abstaining from so decisive 
 a step. It was by no means likely to be agreeable to Bridgenorth, 
 whom it was necessary to keep in good humour 5— it was not ne- 
 cessary, for the Countess's dispatches were of far more importance 
 than the person of Julian. Lastly, it was superfluous in this respect 
 also, that Julian was on the road to his father's castle, where it was 
 likely he would be seized, as a matter of course, along with the other 
 suspicious persons who fell under Topham's warrant, and the de- 
 nunciations of his infamous companions. He, therefore, far from 
 using any violence to Peveril, assumed towards him such a friendly 
 lone, as might seem to warn him against receiving damage from 
 others, and vindicate himself from having had any share in depriving 
 him of his charge. This last manoeuvre was achieved by an in- 
 fusion of a strong narcotic into Julian's wine ; under the influence 
 of which, he slumbered so soundly, that the confederates were easily 
 able to accomplish their inhospitable purpose. 
 
 The events of the succeeding days are already known to the reader. 
 Chiffinch set forward to return to London with the packet, which it 
 was desirable should be in Buckingham's hands as soon as possible ; 
 while Christian went loMoullrassie, to receive Alice from her father, 
 and convey her safely to London — his accomplice agreeing to defer 
 his curiosity to see more of her until they should have arrived ia 
 that city. 
 
 Before parting with Bridgenorth, Christian had exerted his ut- 
 most address to prevail on him to remain at Moultrassie : he had 
 even overstepped the bounds of prudence, and, by his urgency, 
 awakened some suspicions of an indefinite nature, which he found 
 it difficult to allay. Bridgenorth, therefore, followed his brother- 
 in-law to London ; and the reader has already been made acquainted 
 with the arts which Christian used to prevent his farther interference 
 with the destinies of his daughter, or the unhallowed schemes of 
 her ill-chosen guardian. Slill Christian, as he slrode along the street 
 
342 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 in profound reflection, saw thai his undertaking was attended with 
 a thousand perils ; and the drops stood lilie beads on his brow when 
 he thought of the presumptuous levity and ficlcle temper of Buclc- 
 ingham — Ihe frivolity and intemperance of Chiffinch — the suspicions 
 of the melancholy and bigoted, yet sagacious and honest Bridge- 
 north. '^ Had I," he thought, "but tools fitted, each to their por- 
 tion of the work, how easily could I heave asunder and disjoint the 
 strength that opposes me ! But with these frail and insufficient im- 
 plements, I am in daily, hourly, momentary danger, that one lever 
 or other gives way, and that the whole ruin recoils on my own head. 
 And yet, were it not for those failings I complain of, how were it 
 possible for me to have acquired that power over them all which 
 constitutes them my passive tools, even when they seem most to 
 exert their own free will? Yes, the bigots have some right when 
 they affirm that all is for the best." 
 
 It may seem strange, that, amidst the various subjects of Chris- 
 tian's apprehension, he was never visited by any long or perma- 
 nent doubt that the virtue of his niece might prove the shoal on 
 which his voyage should be wrecked. But he was an arrant rogue, 
 as well as a hardened libertine ; and, in both characters, a professed 
 disbeliever in the virtue of the fair sex. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 As for John Dryden's Charles, I own that King 
 Was never any very mighty thing ; 
 And yet he was a devilish honest fellow— 
 Enjoy'd his friend and bottle, and got mellow. 
 
 Dr. Wolcot. 
 
 London, the grand central point of intrigues of every descrip- 
 tion, had now attracted within its dark and shadowy region the 
 greater number of the personages whom we have had occasion to 
 mention. 
 
 Julian Peveril, amongst others of the dramatis personee, had ar- 
 rived, and taken up his abode in a remote inn in the suburbs. His 
 business, he conceived^ was to remain incognito until he should 
 have communicated in private with the friends who were most 
 likely to lend assistance to his parents, as well as to his patroness, 
 in their present situation of doubt and danger. Amongst these, 
 the most powerful was the Duke of Ormond, whose faithful services, 
 high rank, acknowledged worth and virtue, still preserved an as- 
 cendency in that very Court, where, in general, he was regarded 
 us out of favour. Indeed, so much consciousness did Charles 
 display in his demeanour towards that celebrated noble, and ser- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 343 
 
 vant of his father, that Buckingham once took the freedom to ask 
 the King whether the Duke of Ormond had lost his Majesty's favour^ 
 or his Majesty the Duke's? since, whenever they chanced to meet^ 
 the King appeared the more embarrassed of the two. But it was 
 not Peveril's good fortune to obtain the advice or countenance of 
 this distinguished person. His Grace of Ormond was not at that 
 lime in London. 
 
 The letter, about the deUvery of which the Countess had seemed 
 most anxious after that to the Duke of Ormond, was addressed to 
 Captain Barslow (a Jesuit, whose real name was Fenwicke), to be 
 found, or at least to be heard of, in the house of one 3Iar{in Chris- 
 tal in the Savoy. To this place hastened Peveril, upon learning the 
 absence of the Duke of Ormond. He was not ignorant of the dan- 
 ger which he personally incurred by thus becoming a medium of 
 communication betwixt a Popish priest and a suspected Catholic. 
 But when he undertook the perilous commission of his patroness, 
 he had done so frankly, and with the unreserved resolution of 
 serving her in the manner in which she most desired her affairs to 
 be conducted. Yet he could not forbear some secret apprehension, 
 when he felt himself engaged in the labyrinth of passages and gal- 
 leries, which led to different obscure sets of apartments in the 
 ancient building termed the Savoy. 
 
 This antiquated and almost ruinous pile occupied a part of the 
 site of the public offices in the Strand, commonly called Somerset- 
 House. The Savoy had been formerly a palace, and took its name 
 from an Earl of Savoy, by whom it was founded. It had been the 
 habitation of John of Gaunt, and various persons of distinction — 
 had become a convent, an hospital, and finally, in Charles II. 's 
 time, a waste of dilapidated buildings and ruinous apartments, 
 inhabited chiefly by those who had some connexion with, or de- 
 dendence upon, the neighbouring palace of Somerset-House, 
 which, more fortunate than the Savoy, had still retained its royal 
 title, and was the abode of a part of the Court, and occasionally of 
 the King himself, who had apartments there. 
 
 It was not without several enquiries, and more than one mistake, 
 that, at the end of a long and dusky passage, composed of boards 
 so wasted by time that they threatened to give way under his feet, 
 JuHan at length found the name of Martin Christal, broker and ap- 
 praiser, upon a shattered door. He was about to knock, when 
 some one pulled his cloak j and looking round, to his great asto- 
 nishment, which indeed almost amounted to fear, he saw the little 
 mute damsel, who had accompanied him for a part of the way on 
 his voyage from the Isle of Man. "Fenellal" he exclaimed, for- 
 getting that she could neither hear nor reply, — "Fenellal Can 
 this be you?'' 
 
 Fenella, assuming the air of warning and auttiorify, which she 
 
344 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 had lierelofore endeavoured to adopt towards him, interposed be- 
 twixt Julian and the door at which he was about to knock- — pointed 
 with her finger towards it in a prohibiting manner, and at the same 
 time bent her brows, and shook her head sternly. 
 
 After a moment's consideration, Julian could place but one in- 
 terpretation upon Fenella's appearance and conduct, and that was, 
 by supposing her lady had come up to London, and had dispatched 
 this mule attendant, as a confidential person, to apprise him of 
 some change of her intended operations, which might render the 
 delivery of her letters to Barstow, alias Fenwicke, superfluous, or 
 perhaps dangerous. He made signs to Fenella, demanding to 
 know whether she had any commission from the Countess. She 
 nodded. " Had she any letter?" he continued, by the same mode 
 of enquiry. She shook her head impatiently, and, walking hastily 
 along the passage, made a signal to him to follow. He did so, 
 having little doubt that he was about to be conducted into the 
 Countess's presence 5 but his surprise, at first excited by Fenella's 
 appearance, was increased by the rapidity and ease with which 
 she seemed to track the dusky and decayed mazes of the dilapi- 
 dated Savoy, equal to that with which he had seen her formerly 
 lead the way through the gloomy vaults of Castle Rushin, in the 
 Isle of Man. 
 
 When he recollected, however, that Fenella had accompanied 
 the Countess on a long visit to London, it appeared not impro- 
 bable that she might then have acquired this local knowledge which 
 seemed so accurate. Many foreigners, dependent on the Queen or 
 Queen dbwager, had apartments in the Savoy. Many Catholic 
 priests also found refuge in its recesses, under various disguises, 
 and in defiance of the severity of the laws against Popery. What 
 was more likely, than that the Countess of Derby, a Catholic and a 
 Frenchwoman, should have had secret commissions among such 
 people-, and that the execution of such should be intrusted, at 
 least occasionally, to Fenella? 
 
 Thus reflecting, Julian continued to follow her light and active 
 footsteps as she glided from the Strand to Spring-garden, and thence 
 into the Park. 
 
 It was stijl early in the morning, and the Mall was untenanted, 
 save by a few walkers, who frequented these shades for the whole- 
 some purposes of air and exercise. Splendour, gaiety, and display, 
 did not come forth, at that period, until noon was approaching. 
 All readers have heard that the whole space where the Horse 
 Guards are now built, made in the time of Charles II. a part of 
 St. James's Park •, and that the old building, now called the Trea- 
 sury, was a part of the ancient palace of Whitehall, which was thus 
 immediately connected with the Park. The canal had been con- 
 structed, by the celebrated Le Notre, for the purpose of draining 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 345 
 
 the Park; and it communicated with the Thames by a decoy, 
 stocked with a quantity of the rarer waterfowl. It was towards 
 this decoy that Fenella bent her way with unabated speed ; and they 
 were approaching a group of two or three gentlemen who sauntered 
 by its banks, when, on looking closely at him who appeared to be 
 the chief of the parly, Julian felt his heart beat uncommonly thick, 
 as if conscious of approaching some one of the highest consequence. 
 
 The person whom he looked upon was past the middle age of 
 life, of a dark complexion, corresponding with the long, black, 
 full-bottomed periwig, which he wore instead of his own hair. His 
 dress was plain black velvet, with a diamond star, however, on his 
 cloak, which hung carelessly over one shoulder. His features, 
 strongly lined, even to harshness, had yet an expression of dignified 
 good-humour ; he was well and strongly built, walked upright and 
 yet easily, and had upon the whole the air of a person of the highest 
 consideration. He kept rather in advance of his companions, but 
 turned and spoke to them, from time to time, with much affabiUty, 
 and probably with some liveliness, judging by the smiles, and 
 sometimes the scarce restrained laughter, by which some of his sal- 
 lies were received by his attendants. They also wore only morning 
 dresses ; but their looks and manner were those of men of rank, in 
 presence of one in station still more elevated. They shared the at- 
 tention of their principal in common with seven or eight little black 
 curly-haired spaniels, or rather, as they are now called, cockers, 
 which attended their master as closely, and perhaps with as deep 
 sentiments of attachment, as the bipeds of the group ; and whose 
 gambols, which seemed to afford him much amusement, he some- 
 times checked, and sometimes encouraged. In addition to this 
 pastime, a lackey, or groom, was also in attendance, with one or 
 two little baskets and bags, from which the gentleman we have 
 described took, from time to time, a handful of seeds, and amused 
 himself with throwing them to the waterfowl. 
 
 This, the King's favourite occupation, together with his remark- 
 able countenance and the deportment of the rest of the company 
 towards him, satisfied Julian Peveril that he was approaching, per- 
 haps indecorously, near to the person of Charles Stewart, the second 
 of that unhappy name. 
 
 While he hesitated to follow his dumb guide any nearer, and fell 
 the embarrassment of being unable to communicate to her his re- 
 pugnance to further intrusion, a person in the royal retinue touched 
 a light and lively air on the flageolet, at a signal from the King, who 
 desired to have some tune repeated which had struck him in the 
 theatre on the preceding evening. While the good-natured Monarch 
 marked time with his foot, and with the motion of his hand, Fenella 
 continued to approach him, and threw into her manner tlie appear- 
 
 ^ 
 
346 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 ance of one who was attracted, as it were in spite of lierself, by the 
 sounds of the instrument. 
 
 Anxious tolcnow how this was to end, and astonished to see the 
 dumb girl imitate so accurately the manner of one who actually 
 heard the musical notes, Peveril also drew near, though at some- 
 what greater distance. 
 
 The King looked good-humouredly at both, as if he admitted 
 their musical enthusiasm as an excuse for their intrusion; but his 
 eyes became riveted on Fenella, whose face and appearance, al- 
 though rather singular than beautiful, had something in them wild, 
 fantastic, and, as being so, even captivating, to an eye which had 
 been gratified perhaps to satiety with the ordinary forms of female 
 beauty. She did not appear to notice how closely she was observed ; 
 but, as if acting under an irresistible impulse, derived from the 
 sounds to which she seemed lo listen, she undid the bodkin round 
 which her long tresses were winded, and flinging them suddenly 
 over her slender person, as if using them as a natural veil, she 
 began to dance, with infinite grace and agility, to the tune which 
 the flageolet played. 
 
 Peveril lost almost his sense of the King's presence, when he 
 observed with what wonderful grace and agility Fenella kept time 
 lo notes, which coiald only be known to her by the motions of the 
 musician's fingers. He had heard, indeed, among other prodigies^ 
 of a person in Fenella's unhappy situation acquiring, by some un- 
 accountable and myslerious tact, the power of acting as an instru- 
 mental musician, nay, becoming so accurate a performer as to be 
 capable of leading a musical band ; and he had also heard of deaf 
 and dumb persons dancing wilh sufiicient accuracy, by observing 
 the motions of their partner. But Fenella's performance seemed 
 more wonderful than either, since the musician was guided by his 
 written notes, and the dancer by the motions of the others ; whereas 
 Fenella had no intimation, save what she seemed to gather, with 
 infinite accuracy, by observing the motion of the artist's fingers on 
 his small instrument. 
 
 As for the King, who was ignorant of the parlieular circumstances 
 which rendered Fenella's performance almost marvellous, he was 
 contented, at her first commencement, to authorize what seemed lo 
 him the frolic of this singular-looking damsel, by a good-humoured 
 smile ; but when he perceived the exquisite truth and justice, as well 
 as the wonderful combination of grace and agility, with whicli she 
 executed to his favourite air a dance which was perfectly new to 
 him, Charles turned his mere acquiescence into something like en- 
 thusiastic .iipplause. He bore time to her motions with the move^ 
 ment of his foot— applauded with head and with hand — and seemed) 
 like herself, carried away by the enthusiasm of the gestic art. 
 After a rapid yet graceful succession of entrechats, Fenella in- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE I^EAK; M7 
 
 iroduced a slow movement, which terminated the dance; iJien 
 dropping a profound curlsy, she continued to stand motionless 
 before the King, her arms folded on her bosom, her head stooped, 
 and her eyes cast down, after the manner of an Oriental slave ; while 
 through the misty veil of her shadowy locks it might he observed, 
 that the colour which exercise had called to her cheeks was dying 
 fast away, and resigning them to their native dusky hue. 
 
 " By my honour," exclaimed the King, " she is like a fairy who 
 trips it in moonlight. There must be more of air and fire than of 
 earth in her composition. It is well poor Nelly Gwyn saw her not, 
 or she would have died of grief and envy, — Come, gentlemen, which 
 of you contrived this pretty piece of morning pastime?" 
 
 The courtiers looked at each other, but none of them felt au- 
 thorized to claim the merit of a service so agreeable. 
 
 " We must ask the quick-eyed nymph herself, then," said the 
 King ; and looking at Fenella, he added, '' Tell us, my pretty one, 
 to whom we owe the pleasure of seeing you? — I suspect the Duke 
 of Buckingham ; for this is exactly a tow de son metier.'' 
 
 Fenella, on observing that the King addressed her, bowed low, 
 and shook her head, in signal that she did not understand what he 
 said. "Odds-fish, that is true," said the King; "she must per- 
 force be a foreigner— her complexion and agility speak it. France 
 or Italy has had the moulding of these elastic limbs, dark cheek, 
 and eye of fire." He then put to her in French, and again in Italian j 
 the question, " By whom she had been sent hither?" 
 
 At the second repetition, Fenella threw back her veiling tresses, 
 so as to show the melancholy which sat on her brow ; while she 
 sadly shook her head, and intimated by imperfect muttering, but of 
 the softest and most plaintive kind, her organic deficiency. 
 
 " Is it possible Nature can have made such a fault?" said Charles. 
 " Can she have left so curious a piece as thou art without the me- 
 lody of voice, whilst she has made thee so etquisilely sensible to the 
 beauty of sound? — Stay ; what means this? and what young fellow 
 are you bringing up there? Oh, the master of the show, I sup- 
 pose. — Friend," he added, addressing himself to Peveril, who, on 
 the signal of Fenella, stepped forward almost instinctively, and 
 kneeled down, " we thank thee for the pleasure of this morning.— 
 My Lord Marquis, you rooked me at piquet last night 5 for which 
 disloyal deed thou shalt now atone, by giving a couple of pieces to 
 this honest youth, and five to the girl." 
 
 As t^e nobleman drew out his purse, and came forward to per- 
 form the King's generous commission, Julian felt some embarrass- 
 ment ere he was able to explain, that he had no title to be benefited 
 by the young person's performance, and that his Majesty had 
 mistaken his character. 
 
 "And who art thou, then, my friend?" said Charles; "but, above 
 
348 PEVERIL OF THE PfiAK. 
 
 all, and particularly, who is this dancing nymph, whonri thou 
 slandest wailing on like an attendant faun?" 
 
 '* The young person is a retainer of the Countess-Dowager of 
 Derby, so please your Majesty," said Peveril^ in a low tone of voice 5 
 ''and lam" 
 
 " Hold, hold," said the King ^ " this is a dance to another tune, 
 and not fit for a place so public. Hark thee, friend ^ do thou and 
 the young woman follow Empson where he will conduct thee. — 
 Empson, carry them^ — hark in thy ear." 
 
 " May it please your Majesty. I ought to say," said Peveril, 
 "' that I am guiltless of any purpose of intrusion" 
 
 " Now a plague on him who can take no hint," said the King, 
 cutting short his apology. "■ Oddsflsh, man, there are times when 
 civility is the greatest impertinence in the world. Do thou follow 
 Empson, and amuse thyself for an half hour's space with the fairy's 
 company, till we shall send for you." 
 
 Charles spoke this not without casting an anxious eye around, and 
 in a tone which intimated apprehension of being overheard. Julian 
 could only bow obedience, and follow Empson, who was the same 
 person that played so rarely on the flageolet. 
 
 When they were out of sight of the King and his party, the mu- 
 sician wished to enter into conversation with his companions, and 
 addressed himself first to Fenella, with a broad compliment of, '* By 
 the mass, ye dance rarely — ne'er a slut on the boards shows such 
 a shank! I would be content to play to you till my throat were as 
 dry as my whistle. Come, be a little free — old Rowley will not quit 
 the park till nine. I will carry you to Spring Gardens, and bestow 
 sweet cakes and a quart of Rhenish on both of you ^ and we'll be 
 cameradoes. — What the devil! no answer ?--How's this, brother? 
 — Is this neat wench of yours deaf or dumb, or both? I should 
 laugh at that, and she trip it so well to the flageolet." 
 
 To rid himself of this fellow's discourse, Peveril answered him 
 in French, that he was a foreigner, and spoke no English ^ glad to 
 escape, though at the expense of a fiction, from the additional em- 
 barrassment of a fool, who was likely to ask more questions than 
 his own wisdom might have enabled him to answer. 
 
 ' ' Etranger—thdii means stranger," muttered their guide ; ' ' more 
 French dogs and jades come to lick the good English butler off our 
 bread, or perhaps an Italian puppet-show. Well, if it were not that 
 they have a mortal enmity to the whole gamut, this were enough 
 to make any honest fellow turn Puritan. But if I am to play to her 
 at the Duchess's, FlI be d — d but I put her out in the tune, just to 
 leach her to have the impudence to come to England, and to speak 
 no English." 
 
 Having muttered to himself this truly British resolution, the mu- 
 sician walked briskly on towards a large house near the bottom of 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 349 
 
 St. James's Street, and entered the court, by a grated door, from the 
 Park, of which the mansion commanded an extensive prospect. 
 
 Peveril, finding himself in front of a handsome portico, under 
 which opened a stalely pair of folding-doors, was about to ascend 
 the steps that led to the main entrance, when his guide seized him 
 by the arm, exclaiming, "Hold, Mounseerl What ! you'll lose 
 nothing, I see, for want of courage ^ but you must keep the back 
 way, for all your fine doublet. Here it is not, knock and it shall 
 be opened ; but may be instead, knock and you shall be knocked." 
 
 Suffering himself to be guided by Empson, Julian deviated from 
 the principal door, lo one w hich opened, with less ostentation, in 
 an angle of the court-yard. On a modest tap from the flule-player, 
 admittance was afforded him and his companions by a footman, who 
 conducted Ihem through a variety of stone passages, lo a very hand- 
 some summer parlour, where a lady, or something resembling 
 one, dressed in a style of extra elegance, was trifling with a play- 
 book while she finished her chocolate. It would not be easy to 
 describe her, but by weighing her natural good qualities against 
 the atleclalions which counterbalanced them. She would have been 
 handsome, but for rouge and minauderie— would have been civil, 
 but for overstrained airs of patronage and condescension^— would 
 have had an agreeable voice, had she spoken in her natural tone — 
 and fine eyes, had she not made such desperate hard use of them. 
 She could only spoil a pretty ankle by loo liberal display^ but her 
 shape, though she could not yet be tliirty years old, had the embon- 
 point which might have suited better with ten years more advanced. 
 She pointed Empson to a seat with the air of a Duchess, and asked 
 him, languidly, how he did this age, that she had not seen him? 
 and what folks these were he had brought with him ? 
 
 " Foreigners, madam •, d — d foreigners," answered Empson ^ 
 " starving beggars, that our old friend has picked up in the Park 
 this morning — the wench dances, and the fellow plays on the Jew's 
 trump, I believe. On my life, madam, I begin to be ashamed of old 
 Rowley ^ I must discard him, unless he keeps better company in fu- 
 ture." 
 
 *' Fie, Empson," said the lady 5 " consider it is our duty to coun- 
 tenance him, and keep him afloat ; and indeed I always make a prin- 
 ciple of it. Hark ye, he comes not hither this morning ?" 
 
 " He will be here," answered Empson, " in the walking of a 
 minuet." 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed the lady, with unaffected alarm 5 and 
 starting up with utter neglect of her usual airs of graceful languor, 
 she tripped as swiftly as a milk-maid into an adjoining apartment,, 
 where they heard presently a few words of eager and animated dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 *' Something to be put out of the way, I suppose," said Empson.. 
 
350 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " Well for madam I gave her the hint. There he goes, the happy 
 swain." 
 
 Julian was so situated, that he could, from the same casement 
 through which Empson was peeping, observe a man in a laced ro- 
 quelaure, and carrying his rapier under his arm, glide from the 
 door by which he had himself entered, and out of the court, keep- 
 ing as much as possible under the shade of the buildings. 
 
 The lady re-entered at this moment, and observing how Emp- 
 son's eyes were directed, said, with a slight appearance of hurry, 
 " A gentleman of the Duchess of Portsmouth's with a billet 5 and so 
 tiresomely pressing for an answer, that I was obliged to write with- 
 <3ut my diamond pen. I have daubed my fingers, I dare say," she 
 added, looking at a very pretty hand, and presently after dipping 
 her fingers in a little silver vase of rose-water. " But that little 
 exotic monster of yours, Empson, I hope she really understands 
 no English? — On my life she coloured. — Is she such a rare dan- 
 cer ?~I must see her dance, and hear him play on the Jew's 
 harp." 
 
 '' Dance I" replied Empson ; ^' she danced well enough when I 
 played to her. I can make any thing dance. Old Counsellor Club- 
 foot danced when he had a fit of the gout j you have seen no such 
 pas seul in the theatre. I would engage to make the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury dance the hays like a Frenchman. There is nothing in 
 dancing 5 it all lies in the music. Rowley does not know that now. 
 He saw this poor wench dance-, and thought so much on't, when it 
 was all along of me. I would have defied her to sit still. And Row- 
 ley gives her the credit of it, and five pieces to boot ^ and I have 
 only two for my morning's work I" 
 
 '' True, Master Empson," said the lady •, " but you are of the 
 family, though in a lower station ^ and you ought to consider" 
 
 " By G — , madam," answered Empson, " all I consider is, that 
 I play the best flageolet in Ei^gland ^ and that (hey can no more 
 supply my place, if they were to discard me, than they could fill 
 the Thames from Fleet-Ditch." 
 
 " Well, Master Empson, I do not dispute but you are a man of 
 talents," repUed the lady j ^' still I say, mind the main chance-r- 
 you please the ear to-day— another has the advantage of you to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Never, mistress, while ears have the heavenly power of distin- 
 guishing one note from another." 
 
 '' Heavenly power, say you. Master Empson?" said the lady. 
 
 " iVy? madam, heavenly ^ for some very neat verses which we had 
 at our festival say, 
 
 ' What know-we of the blest above, 
 But that Ihcy sing and that they love?' 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 351 
 
 II is Master Waller wrole Ihem, as I Ihink ; who, upon my word, 
 ought to be encouraged." 
 
 " And so should you, my dear Empson," said the dame, yawning, 
 " were it only for the honour you do to your own profession. But in 
 the meantime, will you ask these people to have some refreshment? 
 —and will you take some yourself? — the chocolate is that which the 
 Ambassador Portuguese fellow brought over to the Queen." 
 
 " If it be genuine," said the musician. 
 
 " How, sir?" said the fair one, half rising from her pile of 
 cushions — "not genuine, and in this house! — Let me understand 
 you, Master Empson — I think, when I first saw you, you scarce 
 knew chocolate from coffee." 
 
 " By G — , madam," answered the flageolet-player, '' you are 
 perfectly right. And how can I show better how much I have pro- 
 fited by your ladyship's excellent cheer, except by being critical?" 
 
 '' You stand excused, Master Empson," said (he petite maitresse, 
 sinking gently back on the downy couch, from which a momentary 
 irritation had startled her — '' I think the chocolate will please you, 
 though scarce equal to what we had from the Spanish resident 
 Mendoza. — But we must offer these strange people something. 
 Will you ask them if they would have cotTee and chocolate, or 
 cold wild-fowl, fruit and wine ? They must be treated, so as to 
 show them where they are, since here they are." 
 
 " Unquestionably, madam," said Empson 5 "but I have just at 
 this instant forgot the French for chocolate, hot bread, coffee, 
 game, and drinkables." 
 
 " It is odd," said the lady ; '' and I have forgot my French and 
 Italian at the same moment. But it signifies little — I will order 
 the things to be brought, and they will remember the names of 
 them themselves." 
 
 Empson laughed loudly at this jest, and pawned his soul that 
 the cold sirloin, which entered immediately after, was the best 
 emblem of roast beef all the world over. Plentiful refreshments 
 were offered to all the party, of which both Fenella and Peveril 
 partook. 
 
 In the meanwhile the flageolet-player drew closer to the side of 
 the lady of the mansion — their intimacy was cemented, and their 
 spirits set afloat, by a glass of liqueur, which gave them additional 
 confidence in discussing the characters, as well of the superior at- 
 tendants of the Court, as of the inferior rank, to which they them- 
 selves might be supposed to belong. 
 
 The lady, indeed, during this conversation, frequently exerted 
 her complete and absolute superiority over Master Empson ; in 
 which that musical gentleman humbly acquiesced whenever the 
 circumstance was recailedto his attention, whefher in the way of 
 tlunt contradiction, sarcastic insinuation, downright assumption 
 
352 PEVKRIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 of higher importance, or in any of the other various modes by 
 which such superiority is usually asserted and maintained. But 
 the lady's obvious love of scandal was the lure which very soon 
 brought her again down from the dignified port which for a mo- 
 ment she assumed, and placed her once more on a gossiping level 
 with her companion. 
 
 Their conversation was too trivial, and too much allied to petty 
 Court intrigues, with which he was totally unacquainted, to be in 
 the least interesting to Julian. As it continued for more than an 
 hour, he soon ceased to pay the least attention to a discourse con- 
 sisting of nicknames, patchwork, and innuendo^ and employed 
 himself in reflecting on his own complicated atfairs, and the pro- 
 bable issue of his approaching audience with the King, which had 
 been brought about by so singular an agent, and by means so un- 
 expected. He often looked to his guide, Fenella; and observed that 
 she was, for the greater part of the time, drowned in deep and 
 abstracted meditation. But three or four times — and it was when 
 the assumed airs and affected importance of the musician and their 
 hostess rose to the most extravagant excess — he observed that 
 Fenella dealt askance on them some of those bitter and almost 
 blighting elfin looks, which in the Isle of Man were held to imply 
 contemptuous execration. There was something in all her manner 
 so extraordinary, joined to her sudden appearance, and her de- 
 meanour in the King's presence, so oddly, yet so well contrived, 
 to procure him a private audience — which he might, by graver 
 means, have sought in vain — that it almost justified the idea, though 
 he smiled at it internally, that the little mute agent was aided in her 
 machinations by the kindred imps, to whom, according to Manx 
 superstition, her genealogy was to be traced. 
 
 Another idea sometimes occurred to Julian, though he rejected 
 the question, as being equally wild with those doubts which re- 
 ferred Fenella to a race different from that of mortals — ''Was she 
 really afflicted with those organical imperfections which had always 
 seemed to sever her from humanity ? — If not, what could be the 
 motives of so young a creature practising so dreadful a penance 
 for such an unremitted term of years? And how formidable must 
 be the strength of mind which could condemn itself to so terrific 
 a sacrifice — How deep and strong the purpose for which it was 
 undertaken!" 
 
 But a brief recollection of past events enabled him to dismiss 
 this conjecture as altogether wild and visionary. He had but to call 
 to memory the various stratagems practised by his lighl-hearled 
 companion, the young Earl of Derby, upon this forlorn girl — the 
 conversations held in her presence, in which the character of a 
 creature so irritable and sensitive upon all occasions, was freely, 
 and sometimes satirically discussed,, without her expressing the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 353 
 
 least acquaintance with what was going forward, to convince him 
 that so deep a deception could never have been practised for so 
 many years, by a being of a turn of mind so peculiarly jealous and 
 irascible. 
 
 He renounced, therefore, the idea, and turned his thoughts to 
 his own affairs, and his approaching interview with his Sovereign 5 
 in which meditation we propose to leave him, until we briefly re- 
 view the changes which had taken place in the situation of Alice 
 Bridgenorth. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 I fear the devil worst when gown and cassock. 
 Or, in the lack of them, old Calvin's cloak, 
 Conceals his cloven hoof. 
 
 Anonymous, 
 
 Julian Peveril had scarce set sail for Whitehaven, when Alice 
 Bridgenorth and her governante, at the hasty command of her 
 father, were embarked with equal speed and secrecy on board of 
 a bark bound for Liverpool. Christian accompanied them on their 
 voyage, as the friend to whose guardianship Alice was to be con- 
 signed during any future separation from her father, and whose 
 amusing conversation, joined to his pleasing though cold manners, 
 as well as his near relationship, induced Alice, in her forlorn situa- 
 tion, to consider her fate as fortunate in having such a guardian. 
 
 At Liverpool, as the reader already knows. Christian took the 
 first overt step in the villainy which he had contrived against the 
 innocent girl, by exposing her at a meeting-house to the unhal- 
 lowed gaze of Chiffinch, in order to convince him she was pos- 
 sessed of such uncommon beauty as might well deserve the in- 
 famous proniolion to which they meditated to raise her. 
 
 Highly satisfied with her personal appearance, Chifiinch was no 
 less so with the sense and delicacy of her conversation, when he 
 met her in company with her uncle afterwards in London. The 
 simplicity, and at the same time the spirit of her remarks, made 
 him regard her as his scientific attendant the cook might have done 
 a newly invented sauce, sufficiently piquante in its qualities to 
 awaken the jaded appetite of a cloyed and gorged epicure. She 
 was, he said and swore, the very corner-stone on which, with pro- 
 per management, and with his instructions, a few honest fellows 
 might build a Court fortune. 
 
 That the necessary introduction might take place, the con- 
 federates judged fit she should be put under the charge of an ex- 
 perienced lady, whom some called Mistress Chiffinch, and others 
 
 23 
 
354 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Chiffinch's mistress—one of those obliging creatures who are willing 
 to discharge all the duties of a wife, without the inconvenient and 
 indissoluble ceremony. 
 
 It was one, and not perhaps the least prejudicial consequence 
 of the license of thai ill-governed lime, that the bounds betwixt 
 virtue and vice were so far smoothed down and levelled, thai the 
 frail wife, or (he lender friend who was no wife, did not neces- 
 i/ sarily lose their place in society, but on the contrary, if ihey 
 moved in the higher circles, were permitted and encouraged lo 
 mingle with women whose rank was certain, and whose reputation 
 was unlainled. 
 
 A regular liaison^ like thai of Chiffinch and his fair one, in- 
 ^/ ferred liltle scandal ; and such was his influence, as prime mi- 
 nister of his master's pleasures, that, as Charles himself expressed 
 it, the lady whom we introduced to our readers in the last chapter, 
 had obtained a brevet commission lo rank as a married woman. 
 And lo do the genlle dame justice, no wife could have been more 
 attentive lo forward his plans, or more liberal in disposing of his 
 income. 
 
 She inhabited a set of apartments called Chiffinch's — Ihe scene of 
 many an intrigue, both of love and politics \ and where Charles often 
 held his private parties for the evening, when, as frequently hap- 
 pened, Ihe ill-humour of the Duchess of Portsmouth, his reigning 
 Sultana, prevented his supping with her. The hold which such an 
 arrangement gave a man like ChilFinch, used as he well knew how 
 lo use it, made him of too much consequence lo be slighted even 
 by the first persons in the state, unless they stood aloof from all 
 manner of politics and Court intrigue. 
 
 In the charge of Mistress ChitTinch, and of him whose name she 
 bore, Edward Christian placed the daughter of his sister, and of his 
 confiding friend, calmly contemplating her ruin as an event certain 
 to follow \ and hoping to ground upon it his own chance of a more 
 assured fortune, Ihan a life spent in intrigue had hitherto been able 
 lo procure for him. 
 
 The innocent Alice, without being able lo discover what was 
 wrong either in the scenes of unusual luxury with which she was 
 surrounded, or in the manners of her hostess, which, both front 
 nature and poUcy, were kind and caressing — felt nevertheless an 
 instinctive apprehension that all was not right — a feeUng in the 
 human mind, allied, perhaps, lo that sense of danger which animals 
 exhibit when placed in the vicinity of the natural enemies of their 
 race, and which makes birds cower when the hawk is in the air, and 
 beasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the desert. There was 
 a heaviness at her heart which she could not dispel ; and the few 
 hours which she had already spent at Chilfinch's, were like those 
 passed in a prison by one unconscious of the cause or evenl of his 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 355 
 
 captivity. It was the third morning after her arrival in London, thai 
 the scene look place which we now recur to. 
 
 The imperlinence and vulgarity of Empson, which was permilted 
 to him as an unrivalled performer upon his instrument, were ex- 
 hausting themselves at the expense of all other musical professors, 
 and Mistress Chiffinch was listening wilh careless indifTerence, when 
 some one was heard speaking loudly, and wilh animation, in the 
 inner apartment. 
 
 " O gemini and gilliflower water !" exclaimed the damsel, startled 
 out of her fine airs into her natural vulgarity of exclamation, and 
 running to the door of communication^ — "-if he has not comeback 
 again after all? — and if old Rowley" 
 
 A tap at the further and opposite door here arrested her attention 
 — she quilled the handle of that which she was about to open as 
 speedily as if it had burnt her fingers, and, moving back towards her 
 couch, asked, ^' Who is there?" 
 
 '^Old Rowley himself, madam," said the King, entering the 
 apartment with his usual air of easy composure. 
 
 " O crimini I — your Majesty ! — I thought" 
 
 "That I was out of hearing, doubtless," said the King 5 "and 
 spoke of me as folks speak of absent friends. Make no apology. I 
 think I have heard ladies say of their lace, that a rent is better than a 
 darn. — Nay, be seated. — Where is Chiffinch?" 
 
 "He is down at York-House, your Majesty," said the dame, re- 
 covering, though with no small difficulty, the calm affectation of her 
 usual demeanour. "Shall I send your Majesty's commands?" 
 
 "I will wait his return," said the King. — " Permit me to taste 
 your chocolate." 
 
 "There is some fresh frothed in the office," said the lady 5 and 
 using a Utile silver call, or whistle, a black boy, superbly dressed 
 like an Oriental page, with gold bracelets on his naked arms, and a 
 gold collar around his equally bare neck, attended with the favourite 
 beverage of the morning, in an apparatus of the richest china. 
 
 While he sipped his cup of chocolate, the King looked round the 
 apartment, and observing Fenella, Peveril, and the musician, who 
 remained standing beside a large Indian screen, he continued, ad- 
 dressing Mistress Chiffinch, (hough with polite indifference, "I 
 sent you the fiddles this morning — or rather the flute — Empson, 
 and a fairy elf whom I met in the Park, who dances divinely. She 
 has brought us the very newest saraband from the Court of Queen 
 Mab, and I sent her here, that you may see it at leisure." 
 
 "Your Majesty does me by far loo much honour," said Chif- 
 finch, her eyes properly cast down, and her accent minced into 
 becoming humility. 
 
 "Nay, little Chiffinch," answered the King, in a tone of as con- 
 temptuous familiarity as was consistent with his good-breeding, "It 
 
356 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 was not altogether for thine own private ear, though quite deserv- 
 ing of all sweet sounds-, but I thought Nelly had been with Iheo 
 this morning." 
 
 " I can send Bajazet for her, your Majesty," answered the lady. 
 "Nay, I will not trouble your liltle heathen Sultan to go so far. 
 Slill it strikes rne that Chiffinch said you had company — some 
 country cousin, or such a matter — Is there not such a person?" 
 
 " There is a young person from the country," said Mislress Chif- 
 finch, striving to conceal a considerable portion of embarrassment; 
 '* but she is unprepared for such an honour as to be admitted into 
 your Majesty's presence, and" — — 
 
 "And therefore the fitter to receive it, Chiffinch. These is no- 
 thing in nature so beautiful as the first blush of a little rustic between 
 joy and fear, and wonder and curiosity. It is the down on tho 
 peach — pity it decays so soon ! — the fruit remains, but the first high 
 colouring and exquisite flavour are gone.— Never put up thy hp for 
 the matter, Chiffinch, for it is as I tell you ; so pray let us have la 
 belle cousine. " 
 
 Mislress Chiffinch, more embarrassed than ever, again advanced 
 towards the door of communication, which she had been in the act 
 of opening when his Majesty entered. But just as she coughed pretty 
 loudly, perhaps as a signal to some one within, voices were again 
 heard in a raised tone of altercation — the door was flung open, and 
 Alice rushed out of the inner apartment, followed to the door of it 
 by the enterprising Duke of Buckingham, who stood fixed with 
 astonishment on finding his pursuit of the flying fair one had hur- 
 ried him into the presence of the King. 
 
 Alice Bridgenorlh appeared too much transported with anger to 
 permit her to pay attention to the rank or character of the company 
 into which she had thus suddenly entered. "I remain no longer 
 here, madam," she said to Mrs. Chiffinch, in a tone of uncontrol- 
 lable resolution ; " I leave instantly a house where I am exposed to 
 company which I detest, and to solicitations which I despise." 
 
 The dismayed Mistress Chiffinch could only implore her, in 
 broken whispers, to be silent ; adding, while she pointed to Charles, 
 who stood with his eyes fixed rather on his audacious courlier than 
 on the game which he pursued, "The King — the King!" 
 
 "If I am in the King's presence," said Alice, aloud, and in the 
 same torrent of passionate feeling, while her eyes sparkled through 
 tears of resentment and insulted modesty, "it is the better — it is 
 his Majesty's duty to protect me; and on his protection I throw 
 myself." 
 
 These words, which were spoken aloud, and boldly, at once re- 
 called Julian to himself, who had hitherlo stood, as it were, bewil- 
 dered. He approached Alice, and whispering in her ear that she had 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 357 
 
 beside her one who would defend her with his life, implored her to 
 trust to his guardianship in this emergency. 
 
 Clinging to his arm in all the ecstasy of gratitude and joy, the 
 spirit which had so lately invigorated Alice in her own defence, gave 
 way in a flood of tears, when she saw herself supported by him whonfi 
 perhaps she most wished to recognise as her protector. She per- 
 mitted Peverll gently to draw her back towards the screen before 
 which he had been standing •, where, holding by his arm, but at the 
 same time endeavouring to conceal herself behind him, they waited 
 the conclusion of a scene so singular. 
 
 The King seemed at first so much surprised at the unexpected 
 apparition of the Duke of Buckingham, as to pay little or no at- 
 tention to Alice, who had been the means of thus unceremoniously 
 introducing his Grace into the presence at a most unsuitable mo- 
 ment. In that intriguing Court, it had not been the first time that 
 the Duke had ventured to enter the lists of gallantry in rivalry of his 
 Sovereign, which made the present insult the more intolerable. 
 His purpose of lying concealed in these private apartments was 
 explained by the exclamations of Alice ; and Charles, notwithstand- 
 ing the placidity of his disposition, and his habitual guard over his 
 passions, resented the attempt to seduce his destined mistress, as 
 an Eastern Sultan would have done the insolence of a vizier, who 
 anticipated his intended purchases of captive beauty in the slave 
 market. The swarthy features of Charles reddened, and the strong 
 lines on his dark visage seemed to become inflated, as he said, in a 
 voice which faltered with passion, '' Buckingham, you dared nol 
 have thus insulted your equal I To your master you may securely 
 otl'er any affront, since his rank glues his sword to the scabbard." 
 
 The haughty Duke did not brook this taunt unanswered. '' My 
 sword," he said, with emphasis, " was never in the scabbard, when 
 your Majesty's service required it should be unsheathed." 
 
 " Your Grace means, when its service was required for its master's 
 interest/' said the King; ''for you could only gain the coronet of 
 a Duke by fighting for the royal crown. But it is over — I have 
 treated you as a friend— a companion — almost an equal — you have 
 repaid me with insolence and ingratitude." 
 
 *'Sire," answered the Duke, firmly, but respectfully, '' I am un- 
 happy in your displeasure \ yet thus far fortunate, that while your 
 words can confer honour, they cannot impair or take it away. — It 
 is hard," he added, lowering his voice, so as only to be heard by the 
 King,—" It is hard that the squall of a peevish wench should cancel 
 the services of so many years I" 
 
 "It is harder," said the King, in the same subdued tone, which 
 both preserved through the rest of the conversation, '^^ that a wench's 
 bright eyes can make a nobleman forget the decencies due to his 
 Sovereign's privacy." 
 
358 PEVKniL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 '^ May J presume to ask your Maj( sty what decencies are those?'' 
 said the Duke. 
 
 Charles bit his hp to keep himself from smiUng. '' Buckingham,' 
 he said, ''this is a foohsh business ; and we must not forget (as we 
 have nearly done), that we have an audience to witness this scene, 
 and should walk the stage with dignity. I will show you your fault 
 in private." 
 
 '' 11 is enough Ihat your Majesly has been displeased, and that I 
 have unhappily been the occasion," said the Duke, reverently^ 
 ''although quite ignorant of any purpose beyond a few words of. 
 gallantry ^ and I sue thus low for your Majesty's pardon." 
 
 So saying, he kneeled gracefully down. " Thou hast it, George," 
 said the placable Prince. " I believe thou wilt be sooner tired of 
 offending, that I of forgiving." 
 
 "Long may your Majesty live to give the offence, with which 
 it is your royal pleasure at present to charge my innocence," said 
 the Duke. 
 
 "What mean you by that, my lord?" said Charles, the angry 
 shade returning to his brow for a moment. 
 
 " My Liege,"' replied the Duke, "you are loo honourable to 
 deny your custom of shooting with Cupid's bird-bolls in other men's 
 warrens. You have ta'en the royal right of free-forestry over every 
 man's park. It is hard that you should be so much displeased at 
 hearing a chance arrow whizz near your own pales." 
 
 " No more on't," said the King ; "but let us see where the dove 
 has harboured." 
 
 " The Helen has found a Paris while we were quarrelUng," 
 replied the Duke. 
 
 " Rather an Orpheus," said the King-, "and what is worse, one 
 that is already provided with an Eurydice— She is clinging to the 
 fiddler." 
 
 "It is mere fright," said Buckingham, "like Rochester's, 
 when he crept into the bass-viol lo hide himself from Sir Dermot 
 O'Cleaver." 
 
 " We must make the people show their talents," said the King, 
 "and slop their mouths with money and civility, or we shall have 
 this foolish encounter over half the town." 
 
 The King then approached Julian, and desired him to take his 
 instrument, and cause his female companion to perform a saraband. 
 
 " I had already the honour to inform your Majesty," said .lulian, 
 " that I cannot contribute to your pleasure in the way you com- 
 mand me; and that this young person is" 
 
 "A retainer of the Lady Powis," said the King, upon whose 
 mind things not connected with his pleasures made a very slight 
 impression. "Poor Lady, she is in trouble about the lords in the 
 Tower. ' 
 
PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK- 359 
 
 "Pardon mc, sir," said Julian, "she is a dependent of Ihe 
 Countess of Derby. " 
 
 "True, true,*' answered Charles-, " il is indeed of Lady Derby, 
 who halh also her own distress in these times. Do you know who 
 taught (he young person to dance? Some of her steps mightily rc- 
 remble Le Jeune's of Paris." 
 
 " I presume she was taught abroad, sir," said Julian ^ " for my- 
 self, 1 am charged with some weighty business by the Countess, 
 which I would willingly communicate to your Majesty." 
 
 •'We will send you to our Secretary of Stale," said the King. 
 "'But this dancing envoy will oblige us once more, will she not? 
 — Empson, now that I remember, it was to your pipe that she 
 danced — Strike up, man, and put mettle into her feel." 
 
 Empson began to play a well-known measure ^ and, as he had 
 threatened, made more than one false note, until the King, whose 
 ear was very accurate, rebuked him with, " Sirrah, art thou drunk 
 at this early hour, or must thou too be playing thy slippery tricks 
 with me? Thou thinkesl thou art born to beat time, but I will 
 have lime beat into thee." 
 
 The hint was sufficient, and Empson took good care so to per- 
 form his air as to merit his high and deserved reputation. But on 
 Fenella it made not the slightest impression. She rather leant than 
 stood against the wall of the apartment ^ her countenance as pale as 
 death, her arms and hands hanging down as if stiffened, and her 
 existence only testified by the sobs which agitated her bosom, and 
 the tears which flowed from her half-closed eyes. 
 
 "A plague on it," said the King, "some evil spirit is abroad this 
 morning •, and the wenches are all bewitched, I think. Cheer up, 
 my girl. What, in the devil's name, has changed thee at once from 
 a Nymph to a Niobe? If thou standest there longer, thou wilt grow 
 to the very marble wall- — Or— oddsfish, George, have you been 
 bird-boiling in this quarter also? " 
 
 Ere Buckingham could answer to this charge, Juhan again 
 kneeled down to the King, and prayed to be heard, were il only 
 for five minutes. "The young woman," he said, " had been long 
 in attendance on the Countess of Derby. She was bereaved of the 
 faculties of speech and hearing." 
 
 "Oddfish, man, and dances so well?" said the King. ''Nay all 
 Gresham College shall never make me believe that." 
 
 '- 1 would have thought it equally impossible, but for what I to- 
 day witnessed," said Julian; "but only permit me, sir, to deliver 
 ihe petition of my lady the Countess." 
 
 •And who art thou thyself, man?" said the Sovereign; "for 
 though every thing which wears bodice and breast-knot has aright 
 to speak to a King, and be answered, I know not that they have a 
 title to audience through an envoy extraordinary." 
 
360 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " I am Julian Peveril of Derbyshire," answered the supplicant, 
 '^ the son of Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Marlindale Castle, who" 
 
 "Body of me — the old Worcester man? " said the King. " Odds- 
 fish, I remember him well—some harm has happened to him, I 
 think — Is he not dead, or very sick at least?" 
 
 " 111 at ease, an it please your Majesty, but not ill in health. 
 He has been imprisoned on account of alleged accession to this 
 Plot." 
 
 "Look you there," said the King; " I knew he was in trou- 
 ble •, and yet how to help the stout old Knight, I can hardly tell. 
 I can scarce escape suspicion of the Plot myself, though the prin- 
 cipal object of it is to take away my own life. Were I to stir to 
 save a plotter, I should certainly be brought in as an accessory. 
 — Buckingham, thou hast some interest with those who built this 
 fine slate engine, or at least who have driven it on — be good- 
 natured for once, though it is scarcely thy wont, and interfere to 
 shelter our old Worcester friend, Sir Godfrey. You have not forgot 
 him?" 
 
 "No, sir," answered the Duke^ "for I never heard the name." 
 
 " It is Sir Geotfrey his Majesty would say," said Julian. 
 
 " And if his Majesty did say Sir Geoffrey, Master Peveril, I can- 
 not see of what use I can be to your father," replied the Duke, 
 coldly. "He is accused of a heavy crime; and a British subject 
 so accused, can have no shelter either from prince or peer, 
 but must stand to the award and deliverance of God and his 
 country." 
 
 "Now, Heaven forgive thee thy hypocrisy, George," said the 
 King hastily. "I would rather hear the devil preach religion than 
 thee teach patriotism. Thou knowest, as well as I, that the nation is 
 in a scarlet fever for fear of the poor Catholics, who are not two men 
 to five hundred ^ and that the public mind is so harassed with new 
 narrations of conspiracy, and fresh horrors every day, that people 
 have as little real sense of what is just or unjust, as men who talk in 
 their sleep of what is sense or nonsense. I have borne, and borne 
 with it — I have seen blood flow on the scaffold, fearing to thwart 
 the nation in its fury — and I pray to God that I or mine bo not 
 called on to answer for it. I will no longer swim with the torrent, 
 which honour and conscience call upon me to stem — I will act the 
 part of a Sovereign, and save my people from doing injustice, even 
 in their own despite." 
 
 Charles walked hastily up and down the room as he expressed 
 these unwonted sentiments, with energy equally unwonted. Af- 
 ter a momentary pause, the Duke answered him gravely, " Spoken 
 like a royal King, sir ; but— pardon me — not like a King of Eng- 
 land." 
 Charles paused, as the Duke spoke, beside a window which 
 
i 
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 361 
 
 looked full on Whitehall, and his eye was involuntarily attracted 
 by the fatal window of the Banqueting House, out of which his 
 unhappy father was conducted to execution. Charles was naturally, 
 or more properly, constitutionally, brave; but a life of pleasure, 
 together with the habit of governing his course rather by what was 
 expedient than by what was right, rendered him unapt to dare the 
 same scene of danger or of martyrdom, which had closed his father's 
 life and reign 5 and the thought came over his half-formed resolu- 
 tion, like the rain upon a kindling beacon. In another man, his 
 perplexity would have seemed almost ludicrous ; but Charles could 
 not lose, even under these circumstances, the dignity and grace 
 which were as natural to him as his indifference and his good hu- 
 mour. " Our Council must decide in this matter," he said, looking 
 to the Duke ; " and be assured, young man," he added, addressing 
 Julian, ''your father shall not want an intercessor in his King so 
 far as the laws will permit my interference in his behalf." 
 
 Julian was about to retire, when Fenella, with a marked look, 
 put into his hand a slip of paper on which she had hastily written, 
 "The packet— give him the packet." 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, during which he reflected that 
 Fenella was the organ of the Countess's pleasure, Julian resolved 
 to obey. "Permit me, then. Sire," he said, "to place in your 
 royal hands this packet, intrusted to me by the Countess of Derby. 
 
 The letters have already been once taken from me; and I have 
 little hope that I can now deliver them as they are addressed. I 
 place them, therefore, in your royal hands, certain that they will 
 evince the innocence of the writer." 
 
 The King shook his head as he took the packet reluctantly. " It 
 is no safe office you have undertaken, young man. A messenger 
 has sometimes his throat cut for the sake of his dispatches. — But 
 give them to me ; and, Chilfinch, give me wax and a taper." He em- 
 ployed himself in folding the Countess's packet in another envelope. 
 Buckingham," he said, " you are evidence that I do not read them 
 till the Council shall see them." 
 
 Buckingham approached, and offered his services in folding 
 the parcel, but Charles rejected his assistance; and having finished 
 his task, he sealed the packet with his own signet-ring. The Duke 
 bit his lip and retired. 
 
 "And now, young man," said the King, " your errand is sped, 
 so far as it can at present be forwarded." 
 
 Julian bowed deeply, as to take leave at these words, which he 
 rightly interpreted as a signal for his departure. Alice Bridgenorth 
 stillclunglohisarm, and motioned towithdraw along with him. The 
 King and Buckingham looked at each other in conscious astonish- 
 ment, and yet not without a desire to smile, so strange did it seem 
 to Ihem that a prize, for which, an instant before, they had been 
 
362 VEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 mutually contending, should thus glide out of their grasp, or rather 
 be borne off by a third and very inferior competitor. 
 
 " Mistress Chiffinch," said the King, with a hesitation which he 
 could not disguise, *' I hope your fair charge is not about to leave 
 you ? ' 
 
 "Certainly not, your Majesty," answered Chiffinch. "Alice, 
 my love— you mistake — that opposite door leads to your apart- 
 ments.*' 
 
 "Pardon me, madam," answered Alice-, "I have indeed mis- 
 taken my road, but it was when I came hither." 
 
 "The errant damozel," said Buckingham, looking at Charles 
 with as mucii intelligence as etiquette permitted him to throw into 
 his eye, and then turning it towards Alice, as she still held by 
 Julian's arm, "is resolved not to mistake her road a second time. 
 She has chosen a sufficient guide." 
 
 " And yet stories tell that such guides have led maidens astray," 
 said the King. 
 
 Alice blushed deeply, but instantly recovered her composure 
 so soon as she saw that her liberty was likely to depend upon the 
 immediate exercise of resolution. She quitted, from a sense of 
 insulted delicacy, the arm of Julian, to which she had hitherto 
 clung ; but as she spoke she continued to retain a sHght grasp of 
 his cloak. "I have indeed mistaken my way," she repeated, still 
 addressing Mistress Chiffinch, "but it was when I crossed this 
 threshold. The usage to which I have been exposed in your house, 
 has determined me to quit it instantly." 
 
 " I will not permit that, my young mistress," answered Chif- 
 finch, " until your uncle, who placed you under my care, shall 
 relieve me of the charge of you." 
 
 " I will answer for my conduct, both to my uncle, and, what 
 is of more importance, to my father," said Alice. " You must 
 permit me to depart, madam ; I am free-born, and you have no 
 right to detain me." 
 
 " Pardon me, my young madam," said Mistress Chiffinch, " I 
 have a right, and I will maintain it too." 
 
 " I will know that before quitting this presence," said Alice, 
 firmly; and, advancing a step or t^*o, she dropped on her knee 
 before the King. "Your Majesty," said she, "if indeed I kneel 
 before King Charles, is the father of your subjects." 
 
 " Of a good many of them," said the Duke of Buckingham, 
 apart. 
 
 " I demand protection of you, in the name of God, and of the 
 oath your Majesty swore when you placed on your head the crown 
 of this kingdom I" 
 
 "You have my protection,^ said tlie King, a little confused by 
 an appeal so unexpected and so solemn. 
 
PKVEIUL OF THE PEAK. 363 
 
 " Do but remain quiet with this lady, with whom your parents 
 have placed you ; neither Buckingham nor any one else shall in- 
 trude on you." 
 
 '•His Majesty," added Buckingham, in the same tone, and 
 speaking from the restless and mischief-making spirit of contra- 
 diction, which he never could restrain, even when indulging it was 
 most contrary, not only to propriety, but to his own interest, — 
 " His Majesty will protect you, fair lady, from all intrusion, save 
 what must not be termed such." 
 
 Alice darted a keen look on the Duke, as if to read his meaning^ 
 another on Charles, to know whether she had guessed it rightly. 
 There was a guilly confusion on the King's brow, which con- 
 firmed Alice's determination to depart. " Your Majesty will foi»- 
 give me," she said ^ " it is not here that I can enjoy the advantage 
 of your royal protection. I am resolved to leave this house. If I 
 am detained, it must be by violence, which I trust no one dare offer 
 me in your Majesty's presence. Tiiis gentleman, whom I have long 
 known, will conduct me to my friends." 
 
 " We make but an indifferent figure in this scene, methinks," 
 said the King, addressing the Duke of Buckingham, and speaking 
 in a whisper ^ " but she must go — I neither will, nor dare, stop her 
 from returning to her father." 
 
 "And if she does," swore the Duke internally, "I would, as 
 Sir Andrew saith, I might never touch fair lady's hand." And 
 stepping back, he spoke a few words with Empson the musician, 
 who left the apartment for a few minutes, and presently returned. 
 
 The King seemed irresolute concerning the part he should act 
 under circumstances so peculiar. To be foiled in a gallant intrigue, 
 was to subject himself to the ridicule of his gay Court ; to persist 
 in it by any means which approached to constraint, would have 
 been tyrannical-, and, what perhaps he might judge as severe an 
 imputation, it would have been unbecoming a gentleman. " Upon 
 my honour, young lady," he said, with an emphasis, " you have 
 nothing to fear in this house. But it is improper, for your own 
 sake, that you should leave it in this abrupt manner. If you will 
 have the goodness to wait but a quarter of an hour. Mistress 
 Chiffinch's coach will be placed at your command, to transport you 
 where you will. Spare yourself the ridicule, and me the pain, of 
 seeing you leave the house of one of my servants, as if you were 
 escaping from a prison." 
 
 The King spoke in good-natured sincerity, and Alice was inclined 
 for an instant to listen to his advice ; but recollecting that she had 
 to search for her father and uncle, or, failing them^ for some suit- 
 able place of secure residence, it rushed on her mind that the atten- 
 dants of Mistress Chiffinch were not likely to prove trusty guides 
 or assistants in such a purpose. Firmly and respectfully she an- 
 
364 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 nounced her purpose of instant departure. She needed no other 
 escort, she said, than what this gentlenian, Master Julian Peveril, 
 who was well known to her father, would willingly afford her; nor 
 did she need that farther, that until she had reached her father's 
 residence. 
 
 " Farewell, then, lady, a God's name I " said the King ; ** I am 
 sorry so much beauty should be wedded to so many shrewish 
 suspicions. — For you, Master Peveril, I should have thought you 
 had enough to do with your owq affairs, without interfering with 
 the humours of the fair sex. The duty of conducting all strayed 
 damsels into the right path, is, as matters go in this good city, 
 rather too weighty an undertaking for your youth and inexpe- 
 rience." 
 
 Julian, eager to conduct Alice safe from a place of which he 
 began fully to appreciate the perils, answered nothing to this taunt, 
 but bowing reverently, led her from the apartment. Her sudden 
 appearance, and the animated scene which followed, had entirely 
 absorbed, for the moment, the recollection of his father, and of 
 the Countess of Derby ; and while the dumb attendant of the latter 
 remained in the room, a silent, and, as it were, stunned spectator 
 of all that had happened, Peveril had become, in the predominating 
 interest of Alice's critical situation, totally forgetful of her presence. 
 But no sooner had he left the room, without noticing or attending 
 to her, than Fenella, starting, as from a trance, drew herself up, 
 and looked wildly around, like one waking from a dream, as if to 
 assure herself that her companion was gone, and gone without 
 paying the slightest attention to her. She folded her hands together, 
 and cast her eyes upwards, with an expression of such agony as 
 explained to Charles (as he thought) what painful ideas were passing 
 in her mind. " This Peveril is a perfect pattern of successful per- 
 fidy," said the King; " he has not only succeeded at first sight in 
 carrying off this Queen of the Amazons, but he has left us, I think, 
 a disconsolate Ariadne in her place. — But weep not, my princess 
 of pretty movements," he said, addressing himself to Fenella; "if 
 we cannot call in Bacchus to console you, we will commit you to 
 the care of Erapson, who shall drink with Liber Pater for a thour- 
 sand pounds, and 1 will say done first." 
 
 As the King spoke these words, Fenella rushed past him with 
 her wonted rapidity of step, and, with much less courtesy than was 
 due to the royal presence, hurried down stairs, and out of the 
 house, without attempting to open any communication with the 
 Monarch. He saw her abrupt departure with more surprise than 
 displeasure ; and presently afterwards, bursting into a fit of laugh- 
 ter, he said to the Duke, "Oddstish, George, this young spark 
 might leach the best of us how to manage the wenches. I have 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 365 
 
 had my own experience, but I could never ycl conlrire either to 
 win or lose them with so little ceremony." 
 
 " Experience, sir," replied the Duke, '' cannot be acquired 
 without years," 
 
 "True, George-, and you would, I suppose, insinuate," said 
 Charles, " that the gallant who acquires il, loses as much in youth 
 as he gains in art? I defy your insinuation, George. You cannot 
 overreach your master, old as you think him, either in love or 
 politics. You have not the secret de plumer la poule sans la f aire 
 crier^ witness this morning's work. I will give you odds at all 
 games— ay, and at the Mall, too, if thou darest accept my chal- 
 lenge. — Chiffinch, what for dost thou convulse thy pretty throat 
 and face with sobbing and hatching (ears, which seem rather un- 
 willing to make their appearance?" 
 
 " It is for fear," whined Chifiinch, " that your Majesty should 
 think— that you should expect " 
 
 " That I should expect gratitude from a courtier, or faith from 
 a woman ?" answered the King, patting her at the same time under 
 the chin, to make her raise her face — " Tush I chicken, I am not 
 so superstitious." 
 
 " There it is now," said ChifiQnch, continuing to sob the more 
 bitterly, as she felt herself unable to produce any tears; "I see 
 your Majesty is determined to lay all the blame on me, when I am 
 innocent as an unborn babe. ~ I will be judged by his Grace." 
 
 "No doubt, no doubt, Chiffie," said the King. "His Grace 
 and you will be excellent judges in each other's cause, and as good 
 witnesses in each other's favour. But to investigate the matter 
 impartially, we must examine our evidence apart. — My Lord Duke, 
 we meet at the Mall at noon, if your Grace dare accept my 
 challenge." 
 
 His Grace of Buckingham bowed, and retired. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 But when the bully, with assuming pace, 
 
 Cocks his broad hat, edged round with tarnish'd laee, 
 
 Yield not the way— defy his strutting pride, 
 
 And thrust him to the muddy kennel's side. 
 
 Yet rather bear the shower and soils of mud. 
 
 Than in the doubtful quarrel risk thy blood. 
 
 Gat's Trivia. 
 
 Julian Peveril, half-leading, half-supporting Alice Bridge- 
 north, had reached the middle of St. James's-street ere the doubt 
 occurred to him which way they should bend their course. He 
 then asked Alice whither he should conduct her, and learned to his 
 
366 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 surprise and embarrassment, that, far from knowing where her 
 father was to be found, she had no certain knowledge that he was 
 in London, and only hoped that he had arrived, from the expres- 
 sions which he had used al parting. She mentioned her uncle 
 Christian's address, but it was with doubt and hesitation, arising 
 from the hands in which he had already placed her ^ and her re- 
 luctance to go again under his protection was strongly confirmed 
 by her youthful guide, when a few words had established to his 
 conviction the identity of Ganlesse and Christian. — What then was 
 to be done ? 
 
 " Alice," said Julian, after a moment's reflection, " you must 
 seek your earliest and best friend — I mean my mother. She has 
 now no castle in which to receive you — she has but a miserable 
 lodging, so near the jail in which my father is confined, that it 
 seems almost a cell of the same prison. 1 have not seen her since 
 my coming hither; but thus much have I learned by enquiry. We 
 will now go lo her apartment 5 such as it is, i know she will share 
 it with one so innocent and so unprotected as you are." 
 
 *' Gracious Heaven I " said the poor girl, '^ am I then so totally 
 deserted, that I must throw myself on the mercy of her who, of all 
 the world, has most reason to spurn me from her? — Julian, can 
 you advise me to this ? — Is there none else who will afford me a few 
 hours' refuge, till I can hear from my father? — No other protec- 
 tress but her whose ruin has, I fear, been accelerated by Ju- 
 lian, 1 dare not appear before your mother I she must hale me for 
 my family, and despise me for my meann.ess. To be a second time 
 cast on her protection, w hen the first has been so evil repaid — Ju- 
 lian, I dare not go with you ! " 
 
 ••' She has never ceased to love you, Alice," said her conductor, 
 whose steps she continued lo attend, even while declaring her 
 resolution not lo go with him, " she never felt any thing but kind- 
 ness towards you, nay, towards your father: for though his deal- 
 ings with us have been harsh, she can allow much for the provocation 
 which he has received. Believe me, with her you will be safe as 
 with a mother— perhaps may be the means of reconciling the divi- 
 sions by which we have suffered so much." 
 
 " Might God grant it! " said Alice. '' Yet how shall I face your 
 mother? And will she be able to protect me against these power- 
 ful men— against my uncle Christian? Alas, that! must call him 
 my worst enemy I " 
 
 " She has the ascendency which honour hath over infamy, and 
 virtue over vice," said Julian ; " and to no human power but your 
 father's will she resign you, if you consent to choose her for your 
 protectress. Come, then, with me, Alice; and" 
 
 JuHan was inlerrupted by some one, who, laying an unceremo- 
 nious hold.of his cloak, pulled il with so much force as compelled 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 367 
 
 him lo stop and lay his hand on his sword. He turned at the same 
 time, and, when he turned, beheld Fenella. The cheek of the 
 mule glowed hke fire ^ her eyes sparkled, and her lips were for- 
 cibly drawn together, as if she had difficulty to repress those wild 
 screams which usually attended her agonies of passion, and which, 
 uttered in the open street, must instantly have collected a crowd. 
 As it was, her appearance was so singular, and her emotion so evi- 
 dent, that men gazed as they came on, and looked back after they 
 had passed, at the singular vivacity of her gestures^ while, holding 
 PeveriFs cloak with one hand, she made, with the other, the most 
 eager and imperious signs that he should leave Alice Bridgenorth 
 and follow her. She touched the plume in her bonnet, lo remind him 
 of the Earl— pointed to her heart, to intimate the Countess — raised 
 tier closed hand, as if to command him in their name— -and next 
 moment folded both, as if to supplicate him in her own^ while, 
 pointing to Alice with an expression at once of angry and scornful 
 derision, she waved her hand repeatedly and disdainfully, to inti- 
 mate that Peveril ought to cast her off, as something undeserving 
 his protection. 
 
 Frighlened, she knew not why, at these wild gestures, Alice 
 clung closer to Julian's arm than she had at first dared to do ; and 
 this mark of confidence in his protection seemed to increase the 
 passion of Fenella. 
 
 Julian was dreadfully embarrassed \ his situation was sufficiently 
 precarious, even before Fenella's ungovernable passions threatened 
 to ruin the only plan which he had been able to suggest. What she 
 wanted with him — how far the fate of the Earl and Countess might 
 depend on his following her, he could not even conjecture ^ but be 
 the call how peremptory soever, he resolved not to comply with it 
 until he had seen Alice placed in safety. In the meantime, he de- 
 termined not to lose sight of Fenella ; and disregarding her repeat- 
 ed, disdainful, and impetuous rejection of the hand which he offered 
 her, he at length seemed so far to have soothed her, that she 
 seized upon his right arm, and, as if despairing of his following her 
 path, appeared reconciled to attend him on that which he himself 
 should choose. 
 
 Thus, with a youthful female cUnging to each arm, and both 
 remarkably calculated to attract the public eye, though from very 
 different reasons, Julian resolved lo make the shortest road to the 
 water-side, and there to take boat for Blackfriars, as the nearest 
 point of landing to Newgate, where he concluded that Lance had 
 already announced his arrival in London to sir Geoffrey, then in- 
 habiting that dismal region, and to his lady, who, so far as the jai- 
 lor's rigour permilted, shared and softened his imprisonment. 
 
 Julian's embarrassment in passing Charing-Cross and Northum- 
 bPrland House was so great as (o excite the attention of the passen- 
 
368 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 gers 'jfor he had to compose his steps so as to moderate (he unequal 
 and rapid pace of Fenella to the timid and faint progress of his left- 
 hand companion ; and while it would have been needless to address 
 himself to the former, who could not comprehend him, he dared 
 not speak himself to Ahce, for fear of awakening into frenzy the 
 jealousy, or at least the impatience, of Fenella. 
 
 Many passengers looked at them with wonder, and some with 
 smiles *, but Julian remarked that there were two who never lost 
 sight of them, and to whom his situation, and the demeanour of 
 his companions, seemed to afford matter of undisguised merriment. 
 These were young men, such as may be seen in the same precincts 
 in the present day, allowing for the difference in the fashion of 
 their apparel. They abounded in periwig, and fluttered with many 
 hundred yards of ribbon, disposed in bow-knots upon their sleeves, 
 their breeches, and their waistcoats, in the very extremity of the 
 existing mode. A quantity of lace and embroidery made their habits 
 rather fine than tasteful. In a word, they were dressed in that cari- 
 cature of the fashion, which sometimes denotes a hare-brained man 
 of quality who has a mind to be distinguished as a fop of the first 
 order, but is much more frequently the disguise of those who desire 
 to be esteemed men of rank on account of their dress, having no 
 other pretension to the distinction. 
 
 These two gallants passed Peveril more than once, linked arm 
 in arm, then sauntered, so as to oblige him to pass them in turn, 
 laughing and whispering during these manoeuvres — staring broadly 
 at Peveril and his female companions— and affording them, as they 
 came into contact, none of those faciUties of giving place, which 
 are required on such occasions by the ordinary rules of the pav6. 
 
 Peveril did not immediately observe their impertinence •, but when 
 it was too gross to escape his notice, his gall began to arise; and in 
 addition to all the other embarrassments of his situation, he had to 
 combat the longing desire which he felt to cudgel handsomely the two 
 coxcombs who seemed thus determined on insulting him. Patience 
 and sufferance were indeed strongly imposed on him by circum- 
 stances ; but at length it became scarcely possible to observe their 
 dictates any longer. 
 
 When, for the third time, Julian found himself obliged, with his 
 companions, to pass this troublesome brace of fops, they kept walk- 
 ing close behind him, speaking so loud as to be heard, and in a tone 
 of perfect indifference whether he listened to them or not. 
 
 "This is bumpkin's best luck," said the taller of the two (who 
 was indeed a man of remarkable size), alluding to the plainness of 
 Pcveril's dress, which was scarce fit for the streets of London — 
 " Two such fine wenches, and under guard of a grey frock and an 
 oaken riding-rod ! " 
 
 " Nay, Puritan's luck rather, and more than enough of it," said 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 369 
 
 his companion. " You may read Puritan in his pace and in hjs pa- 
 tience." 
 
 ''Right as a pint bumper, Tom," said his friend — " Issachar is 
 as an ass that stoopeth between two burdens." 
 
 " I have a mind to ease long-eared Laurence of one of his en^ 
 cumbrances," said the shorter fellow. " That black-eyed sparkler 
 looks as if she had a mind to run away from him." 
 
 "Ay," answered the taller, " and the blue-eyed trembler looks 
 as if she would fall behind into my loving arms." 
 
 At these words, Alice, holding still closer by Peveril's arm than 
 formerly, mended her pace almost to running, in order to escape 
 from men whose language was so alarming 5 and Fenella walked 
 hastily forward in the same manner, having perhaps caught, from 
 the men's gestures and demeanour, that apprehension which Alice 
 had taken from their language. 
 
 Fearful of the consequences of a fray in the streets, which must 
 necessarily separate him from these unprotected females, Peveril 
 endeavoured to compound betwixt (he prudence necessary for 
 their protection and his own rising resentment^ and as this trouble- 
 some pair of attendants endeavoured again to pass them close to 
 Hungerford-Stairs, he said to them, with constrained calmness, 
 " Gentlemen, I owe you something for the attention you have 
 bestowed on the affairs of a stranger. If you have any pretension 
 to the name I have given you, you will tell me where you are to be 
 found." 
 
 " And with what purpose," said the taller of the two, sqeeringly, 
 "does your most rustic gravity, or your most grave rusticity, 
 require of us such information? " 
 
 So saying, they both faced about, in such a manner as to make 
 it impossible for Julian to advance any farther. 
 
 " Make for the stairs, Alice," he said ; " I will be with you in 
 an instant." Then freeing himself with difTiculty from the grasp of 
 his companions, he cast his cloak hastily round his left arm, and 
 said, sternly, to his opponents, " Will you give me your names, 
 sirs : or will you be pleased to make way? " 
 
 " Not till we know for whom we are to give place," said one 
 of them. 
 
 " For one who will else teach you what you want — good man- 
 ners," said Peveril, and advanced, as if to push between them. 
 
 They separated, but one of them stretched forth his foot before 
 Peveril, as if he meant to trip him. The blood of his ancestors 
 was already boiling within him 5 he struck the man on the face 
 with the oaken rod which he had just sneered at, and, throwing 
 it from him, instantly unsheathed his sword. Both the others drew, 
 and pushed at once; but he caught the point of the one rapier in 
 Jiis cjoak, and parried the other thrust with his own weapon. He 
 
 24 
 
a70 PEVRRIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 "might have been less lucky in the second close, but a cry arose 
 among the watermen, of '' Shame, shame I two upon one ! " 
 
 " They are men of the Duke of Buckingham's," said one fellow 
 — " there's no safe meddling with them." 
 
 " They may be the devil's men, if they will," said an ancient 
 Trilon, flourishing his stretcher; "but I say fair play, and old 
 England for ever •, and I say knock the gold-laced puppies down, 
 unless they will fight turn-about with grey jerkin, like honest fel- 
 lows, one down— t'other come on." 
 
 The lower orders of London have in all times been remarkable 
 for the delight which they have taken in club-law, or fist-law ; and 
 for the equity and impartiality with which they see it administered. 
 The noble science of defence was then so generally known, that 
 a bout at single rapier excited at that time as much interest and as 
 little wonder as a boxing-match in our own days. The bystanders, 
 experienced in such affrays, presently formed a ring, within which 
 Peveril and the taller and more forward of his antagonists were 
 soon engaged in close combat with their swords, whilst the other, 
 overawed by the spectators, was prevented from interfering. 
 
 " Well done the tall fellow ! "— '' Well thrust, long-legs I "— 
 '* Huzza for two ells and a quarter ! " were the sounds with which 
 the fray was at first cheered ^ for Peveril's opponent not only showed 
 great activity and skill in fence, but had also a decided advantage, 
 from the anxiety with which Julian looked out for Alice Bridge- 
 north ; the care for whose safely diverted him in the beginning of 
 the onset from that which he ought to have exclusively bestowed 
 on the defence of his life. A slight flesh-wound in the side at once 
 punished, and warned him of his inadvertence ; when, turning his 
 whole thoughts on the business in which he was engaged, and ani- 
 mated with anger against his impertinent intruder, the rencontre 
 speedily began to assume another face, amidst cries of " Well done, 
 grey jerkin! " — "Try the metal of his gold doublet! "—Finely 
 thrust! " — " Curiously parried ! " — " There went another eyelet- 
 hole to his broidered jerkin!" — "Fairly pinked, byG— d!" In fact, 
 the last exclamation was uttered amid a general roar of applause, 
 accompanying a successful and conclusive lounge, by which Peveril 
 ran his gigantic antagonist through the body. He looked at his 
 prostrate foe for a moment •, then, recovering himself, called loudly 
 to know what had become of the lady. 
 
 " Never mind the lady, if you be wise," said one of the water- 
 men 5 " the constable will be here in an instant. I'll give your 
 honour a cast across the water in a moment. It may be as much 
 as your neck's worth. Shall only charge a Jacobus." 
 
 " You be d— d !" said one of his rivals in profession, " as your 
 father was before you ; "for a Jacobus, I'll set the gentleman into 
 Alsalia, where neither bailiff nor constable dare trespass.'* 
 
I 
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 371 
 
 " The lady, you scoundrels, (he lady!" exclaimed Peveril — 
 ''Where is the lady?" 
 
 " I'll carry your honour where you shall have enough of ladies, 
 if that be your want," said the old Triton ; and as he spoke, the 
 clamour amongst the watermen was renewed, each hoping to cut 
 his own profit out of the emergency of Julian's situation. 
 
 '* A sculler will be least suspected, your honour," said one 
 fellow. 
 
 " A pair of oars will carry you through the water like a wild- 
 duck," said another. 
 
 " But you have got never a tilt, brother," said a third. " Now 
 I can put the gentleman as snug as if he were under hatches." 
 
 In the midst of the oaths and clamour attending this aquatic con- 
 Iroversy for his custom, Peveril at length made them understand 
 that he would bestow a Jacobus, not on him whose boat was first 
 oars, but on whomsoever should inform him of the fate of the lady. 
 
 "Of which lady?" said a sharp fellow j "for, to my thought, there 
 was a pair on them." 
 
 "Of both, of both," answered Peveril, "but first, of the fair- 
 haired lady ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay, that was she that shrieked so when gold-jacket's com- 
 panion handed her into No. 20." 
 
 " Who — what — who dared to hand her?" exclaimed Peveril. 
 
 " Nay, master, you have heard enough of my tale without a fee," 
 said the waterman. 
 
 " Sordid rascal!" said Peveril, giving him a gold piece, " speak 
 out, or I'll run my sword through you I" 
 
 " For the matter of that, master," answered the fellow, " not 
 while I can handle this trunnion — but a bargain's a bargain; and 
 so I'll lell you, for your gold piece, that the comrade of the fellow 
 forced one of your wenches, her with the fair hair, will she nill she, 
 into Tickling Tom's wherry; and they are far enough up Thames 
 by this time, with wind and tide." 
 
 " Sacred Heaven, and I stand here!" exclaimed Julian. 
 
 " Why, that is because your honour will not take a boat." 
 
 " You are right, my friend — a boat — a boat instantly !" 
 
 '* Follow me, then, squire. — Here, Tom, bear a hand — the 
 gentleman is our fare." 
 
 A volley of water language was exchanged betwixt the successful 
 candidate for Peveril's custom and his disappointed brethren, which 
 concluded by the ancient Triton's bellowing out, in a tone above 
 them all, " that the gentleman was in a fair way to make a voyage 
 to the isle of gulls, for that sly Jack was only bantering him — ^No. 
 20 had rowed for York-Buildings." 
 
 " To the isle of gallows," cried another; " for here comes one 
 
372 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 who will mar his trip up Thames, and carry him down to Execu- 
 tion-Dock." 
 
 In fact, as he spoke Ihe word, a constable, with three or four of 
 his assistants, armed with the old-fashioned brown-bills, which 
 were still used for arming those guardians of the peace, cut off our 
 hero's farther progress to the water's edge, by arresting him in 
 the King's name. To attempt resistance would have been madness, 
 as he was surrounded on all sides •, so Peveril was disarmed, and 
 carried before the nearest Justice of the Peace, for examination and 
 committal. 
 
 The legal sage before whom Julian was taken, was a man very 
 honest in his intentions, very bounded in his talents, and rather 
 timid in his disposition. Before the general alarm given to Eng- 
 land, and to the city of London in particular, by the notable dis- 
 covery of the Popish Plot, Master Maulstatule had taken serene 
 and undisturbed pride and pleasure in the discharge of his duties 
 as a Justice of the Peace, with the exercise of all its honorary pri- 
 vileges and awful authority. But the murder of Sir Edmondsbury 
 Godfrey had made a strong, nay, an indelible impression on his 
 mind ; and he walked the Courts of Themis with fear and trembling 
 after that memorable and melancholy event. 
 
 Having a high idea of his official importance, and rather an 
 exalted notion of his personal consequence, his honour saw nothing 
 from that time but cords and daggers before his eyes, and never 
 stepped out of his own house, which he fortified, and in some 
 measure garrisoned, with half a dozen tall watchmen and constables, 
 without seeing himself watched by a Papist in disguise, with a 
 drawn sword under his cloak. It was even whispered, that, in the 
 agonies of his fears, the worshipful Master Maulslatute mistook 
 the kitchen-wench with a tinder-box, for a Jesuit with a pistol ; 
 but if any one dared to laugh at such an error, he would have done 
 well to conceal his mirth, lest he fell under the heavy inculpation 
 of being a banterer and stiller of the Plot — a crime almost as deep 
 as that of being himself a plotter. In fact, the fears of the honest 
 Justice, however ridiculously exorbitant, were kept so much in 
 countenance by the outcry of the day, and the general nervous 
 fever which afflicted every good Proleslant, that Master Maulstatute 
 was accounted the bolder man and the belter magistrate, while, 
 under the terror of the air-drawn dagger which fancy placed con- 
 tinually before his eyes, he continued to dole forth justice in the 
 recesses of his private chamber, nay, occasionally to attend Quarter- 
 sessions, when the hall was guarded by a sufficient body of the 
 miUtia. Such was the wight, at whose door, well chained and 
 doubly bolted, the constable who had Julian in custody now gave 
 his important and well-known knock. 
 
 Notwithstanding this official signal, the parly was not admitted 
 
PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 373 
 
 until the clerk, who acted the part of high-warder, had recon- 
 noitred them through a grated wiclcel ; for who could say whether 
 the Papists might not have made themselves master of Master 
 Constable's sign, and have prepared a pseudo watch to burst in and 
 murder the Justice, under pretence of bringing a criminal before 
 him? — Less hopeful projects had figured in the Narrative of the 
 Popish Plot. 
 
 All being found right, the key was turned, the bolls were drawn, 
 and the chain unhooked, so as to permit entrance to the constable, 
 the prisoner, and the assistants 5 and the door was then as suddenly 
 shut against the witnesses, who, as less trustworthy persons, were 
 requested (through the wicket) to remain in the yard, until they 
 should be called in their respective turns. 
 
 Had JuHan been inclined for mirth, as was far from being the 
 case, he must have smiled at the incongruity of the clerk's apparel, 
 who had belted over his black buckram suit a buff baldric, sustain- 
 ing a broadsword, and a pair of huge horse-pistols ; and, instead 
 of the low flat hat, which, coming in place of the city cap, com- 
 pleted the dress of a scrivener, had placed on his greasy locks a 
 rusted steel cap, which had seen Marston-moor •, across which pro- 
 jected his well-used quill, in the guise of a plume — the shape of the 
 morion not admitting of its being stuck, as usual, behind his ear. 
 
 This whimsical figure conducted the constable, his assistants, 
 and the prisoner, into the low hall, where his principal dealt forth 
 justice; who presented an appearance still more singular than that 
 of his dependant. 
 
 Sundry good Protestants, who thought so highly of themselves 
 as to suppose they were worthy to be distinguished as objects of 
 Catholic cruelty, had taken to defensive arms on the occasion. But 
 it was quickly found that a breast-plate and back-plate of proof, 
 fastened together with iron clasps, was no convenient enclosure for 
 a man who meant to eat venison and custard; and that a buff-coat, 
 or shirt of mail^ was scarcely more accommodating to the exertions 
 necessary on such active occasions. Besides, there were other 
 objections, as the alarming and menacing aspects which such war- 
 like habiliments gave to the Exchange, and other places, where 
 merchants most do congregate ; and excoriations were bitterly com- 
 plained of by many, who, not belonging to the artillery company, 
 or trained bands, had no experience in bearing defensive armour. 
 
 To obviate these objections, and, at the same lime, to secure 
 the persons of all true Protestant citizens against open force or privy 
 assassinations on the part of the Papists, some ingenious artist, 
 belonging, we may presume, to the worshipful Mercers' Company, 
 had contrived a species of armour, of which neither the horse- 
 armoury in the Tower, nor Gwynnap's Gothic Hall, no, nor Dr. 
 Mey rick's invaluable collection of ancient arms, has preserved any 
 
374 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 specimen. It was called silk armour, ' being composed of a double! 
 and breeches of quilted silk, so closely stitched, and of such thick- 
 ness, as to be proof against either bullet or steel 5 while a thick 
 bonnet, of the same materials, with ear-flaps attached to it, and, on 
 the whole, much resembling a night- cap, completed the equipment, 
 and ascertained the security of the wearer from the head to the knee. 
 
 Master Maulstatute, among other worthy citizens, had adopted 
 this singular panoply, which had the advantage of being soft, and 
 warm, and flexible, as well as safe. And he now sat in his judicial 
 elbow-chair — a short, rotund figure, hung round, as it were, with 
 cushions, for such was the appearance of the quilted garments ; and 
 with a nose protruded from under the silken casque, the size of 
 which, together with the unwieldiness of the whole figure, gave 
 his worship no indifferent resemblance to the sign of the Hog in 
 Armour, which was considerably improved by the defensive gar- 
 ment being of a dusky orange-colour, not altogether unlike the hue 
 of those half-wild swine which are to be found in the forests of 
 Hampshire. 
 
 Secure in these invulnerable envelopements, his worship had 
 rested content, although severed from his own death-doing wea- 
 pons, of rapier, poniard, and pistols, which were placed, neverthe- 
 less, at no great distance from his chair. One offensive implement, 
 indeed, he thought it prudent ta keep on the table beside his huge 
 Coke upon Littleton. This was a sort of pocket-flail, consisting of a 
 piece of strong ash, about eighteen inches long, to which was at- 
 tached a swinging club oHlgnum-vitce, nearly twice as lonj? as the 
 handle, but jointed so as to be easily folded up. This instrument, 
 which bore at that time the singular name of the Protestant flail, 
 might be concealed under the coat, until circumstances demanded 
 its public appearance. A belter precaution against surprise than his 
 arms, whether ofl"ensive or defensive, was a strong iron grating, 
 which, crossing the room in front of the Justice's table, and com- 
 municating by a grated door, which was usually kept locked, ef- 
 fectually separated the accused party from his Judge. 
 
 Justice Maulstatute, such as we have described him, chose to hear 
 the accusation of the witnesses before calling on Peveril for his de- 
 fence. The detail of the affray was briefly given by the bystanders, 
 and seemed deeply to touch the spirit of the examinator. He shook 
 his silken casque emphatically, when he understood that, after some 
 language betwixt the parlies, which the witnesses did not quite un- 
 derstand, the young man in custody struck the first blow, and drew 
 his sword before the wounded parly had unsheathed his weapon. 
 Again he shook his crested head yet more solemnly, when the re- 
 sult of the conflict was known \ and yet again, when one of the 
 
 ' Note, p. 377. Silk Armour. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 375 
 
 witnesses declared, that, to the best of his knowledge, the sufferer 
 in the fray was a gentleman belonging to the household of his 
 Grace the Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 *' A worthy peer,*' quoth the armed magistrate — " a true Pro- 
 testant, and a friend to his country. Mercy on us, to what a height 
 of audacity hath this age arisen I We see well, and could, were we 
 as blind as a mole, out of what quiver this shaft hath been drawn!" 
 
 He then put on his spectacles, and having desired Julian to be 
 brought forward, he glared upon him awfully with those glazen 
 eyes, from under the shade of his quilted turban. 
 
 " So young," he said, " and so hardened— lack-a-day I— and a 
 Papist, I'll warrant." 
 
 Peveril had time enough to recollect the necessity of his being at 
 large, if he could possibly obtain his freedom, and interposed here 
 a civil contradiction of his worship's gracious supposition. " He 
 was no Catholic," he said, " but an unworthy memberof the Church 
 of England." 
 
 " Perhaps but a lukewarm Protestant, notwithstanding," said the 
 sage Justice 5 '' there are those amongst us who ride tantivy to 
 Rome, and have already made out half the journey— ahem ! " 
 
 Peveril disowned his being any such. 
 
 ''And who art thou, then?" said the Justice ; '' for, friend, to 
 tell you plainly, I like not your visage — ahem I " 
 
 These short and emphatic coughs were accompanied each by a 
 succinct nod, intimating the perfect conviction of the speaker that 
 he had made the best, the wisest, and the most acute observation, 
 of which the premises admitted. 
 
 Julian, irritated by the whole circumstances of his detention, 
 answered the Justice's interrogation in rather a lofty tone. "My 
 name is Julian Peveril!" 
 
 " Now, Heaven be around us I " said the terrified Justice — " the 
 son of that black-hearted Papist and traitor. Sir Geoffrey Peveril, 
 now in hands, and on the verge of trial ! ! " 
 
 "How, sir!" exclaimed Julian, forgetting his situation, and, 
 stepping forward to the grating, with a violence which made the 
 bars clatter, he so startled the appalled Justice, that, snatching his 
 Protestant flail, Master Maulslatuie aimed a blow at his prisoner, to 
 repel what he apprehended was a premeditated attack. But whe- 
 ther it was owing to the Justice's hurry of mind, or inexperience in 
 managing the weapon, he not only missed his aim, but brought the 
 swinging part of the machine round his own skull, with such a se- 
 vere counter-bufl", as completely to try the efficacy of his cushioned 
 helmet, and, in spite of its defence, to convey a stunning sensation, 
 which he rather hastily imputed to the consequence of a blow re- 
 ceived from Peveril. 
 
 His assistants did not indeed directly confirm the opinion which. 
 
37^ PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 the Justice had so unwarrantably adopted ; but all with one voice 
 agreed, that, but for their own active and instantaneous interference^ 
 there was no knowing what mischief might have been done by a 
 person so dangerous as the prisoner. The general opinion that he 
 meant to proceed in the matter of his own rescue, parvoie defait, 
 was indeed so deeply impressed on all present, that Julian saw it 
 would be in vain to offer any defence, especially being but too con- 
 scious that the alarming, and probably the fatal consequences of his 
 rencontre with the bully, rendered his commitment inevitable. He 
 contented himself with asking into what prison he was to be thrown ; 
 and when the formidable word Newgate was returned as full 
 answer, he had at least the satisfaction to reflect, that, stern and 
 dangerous as was the shelter of that roof, he should at least enjoy 
 it in company with his father ; and that, by some means or other, 
 Ihey might perhaps obtain the satisfaction of a melancholy meeting, 
 under the circumstances of mutual calamity, which seemed im- 
 pending over their house. 
 
 Assuming the virtue of more patience than he actually possessed, 
 Julian gave the magistrate (to whom all the mildness of his de- 
 meanour could not, however, reconcile him), the direction to the 
 house where he lodged, together with a request that his servant, 
 Lance Outram, might be permitted to send him his money and 
 wearing apparel ; adding, that all which might be in his possession, 
 either of arms or writings, — the former amounting to a pair of tra- 
 velling pistols, and the last to a few memoranda of little consequence, 
 he willingly consented to place at the disposal of the magislrate. It 
 was in that moment that he entertained, with sincere satisfaction, 
 the comforting reflection, that the important papers of Lady Derby 
 were already in the possession of the Sovereign. 
 
 The Justice promised attention to his requests \ but reminded 
 him, with great dignity, that his present complacent and submissive 
 behaviour ought, for his own sake, to have been adopted from the 
 beginning, inslead of disturbing the presence of magistracy with 
 such atrocious marks of the malignant, rebellious, and murderous 
 spirit of Popery, as he had at first exhibited. '' Yet," he said, " as 
 he was a goodly young man, and of honourable quality, he would 
 not suffer him to be dragged through the streels as a felon, but had 
 ordered a coach for his accommodation." 
 
 His honour, Master Maulstatute, uttered the word " coach" with 
 the imporlance of one who, as Dr. Johnson saith of later date, is 
 conscious of the dignity of putting horses to his chariot. The 
 worshipful Master Maulstatute did not, however, on this occasion, 
 do Julian the honour of yoking to his huge family caroche the two 
 " frampal jades" ( to use the term of the period), which were wont 
 to drag that ark to the meeting-house of pure and precious Master 
 Howlaglass on a Thursday's evening for lecture, and on a Sunday 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 377 
 
 for a four-hours sermon. He had recourse to a leathern convenience, 
 then nriore rare, but just introduced, with every prospect of the great 
 faciUty which has since been afforded by hackney coaches, to all 
 manner of communication, honest and dishonest, legal and illegal. 
 Our friend Julian, hitherto much more accustomed to the saddle 
 than to any other conveyance, soon found himself in a hackney car- 
 riage, with the constable and two assistants for his companions, 
 armed up to the teeth— the port of destination being, as they had 
 already intimated, the ancient fortress of New gate. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Note, p. 374.— Silk AaMoun. 
 
 Roger North gives us a ridiculous description of these warlike habilimeDts, irrhen 
 talking of the Whig Club in Fuller's Rents. " The conversation and ordinary discourse 
 of the club was chiefly on the subject of bravery in defending the cause of liberty and 
 property, and what every Protestant Englishman ought to venture and do rather than be 
 overrun with Popery and slavery. There was much recommendation of silk armour, 
 and the prudence of being provided With it, against the time that Protestants were to be 
 massacred; and accordingly there were abundance of these silken backs, breasts, and 
 pots (i. e. head-pieces), made and sold, which were pretended to be pistol proof, in which 
 any man dressed up was as safe as in a house ; for it was impossible any one could go to 
 strike him for laughing, so ridiculous was the figure, as they say, of hogs in armour— an 
 image of derision insensible but to the view, as I have had it (viz, that none can imagine 
 without seeing it, as I have). This was armour of defence, but our sparks were not alto- 
 gether so tame as to carry their provisions no farther; for truly they intended to be 
 assailants upon fair occasion, and had for that end recommended to them a certain pocket 
 weapon, which, for its design and efficacy, had the honour to be called a Protestant flail. 
 It was for street and crowd work, and the instrument lurking perdue in a coat-pocket, 
 might readily sally out to execution, and by clearing a great hall, piazza, or so, carry an 
 election, by a choice way of polling, called 'knocking down.' The handle resembled a 
 farrier's blood-stick, and the fall was joined to ihe end by a strong nervous ligature, that 
 in its swing fell short of the hand, and was made of lignum vitce, or rather, as the poet 
 termed it, mortis"— Examan, p. 173. 
 
 This last weapon will remind the reader of the blood-stick so cruelly used, as was 
 alleged, in a murder committed in England some years ago, and for a participation in 
 which two persons were tried and acquitted at the assizes of autumn 1830. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 'Tis the black ban-dog of our jail— Pray look on him^ 
 But at a wary distance— rouse him not— 
 He bays not till he worries. 
 
 The Black Dog of Newgate. 
 
 The coach slopped before those tremendous gates, which re- 
 semble those of Tartarus, save only that they rather more fre* 
 quenlly permit safe and honourable egress *, although at the price 
 of the same anxiety and labour with which Hercules, and one or 
 two of the demi-gods, extricated themselves from the hell of the 
 ancient mythology, and sometimes, it is said, by the assistance of 
 the golden boughs. 
 
 Julian stepped out of the vehicle, carefully supported on either 
 
378 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 side by his companions, and also by one or two turnkeys, whom 
 the first summons of the deep bell at the gale had called to their 
 assistance. That attention, it may be guessed, was not beslowed 
 lest he should make a false step, so much as for fear of his altempling 
 an escape, of which he had no intentions. A few prentices and 
 straggling boys of the neighbouring market, which derived con- 
 siderable advantage from increase of custom, in consequence of the 
 numerous committals on account of the Popish Plot, and who 
 therefore were zealous Protestants, saluted him on his descent with 
 
 jubilee shouts of "Whoop, Papist! whoop, Papist! D n to the 
 
 Pope, and all his adherents !" 
 
 tinder such auspices, Peveril was ushered in beneath that 
 gloomy gateway, where so miany bid adieu on their entrance at 
 once to honour and to life. The dark and dismal arch under which 
 he soon found himself, opened upon a large court-yard, where a 
 number of debtors were employed in playing at handball, pitch- 
 and-loss, hustle-cap, and other games ^ for which relaxations the 
 rigour of their creditors afforded them full leisure, while it debarred 
 them the means of pursuing the honest labour by which they might 
 have redeemed their affairs, and maintained their starving and beg- 
 gared families. 
 
 But with this careless and desperate group Julian was not to be 
 numbered, being let, or rather forced, by his conductors, into a 
 low arched door, which, carefully secured by bolls and bars, 
 opened for his reception on one side of the archway, and closed, 
 with all its fastenings, the moment after his hasty entrance. He was 
 then conducted along two or three gloomy passages, which, where 
 they intersected each other, were guarded by as many strong 
 wickets, one of iron grates, and the others of stout oak, clenched 
 with plates, and studded with nails of the same metal. He was 
 not allowed to pause until he found himself hurried into a little 
 round vaulted room, which several of these passages opened into, 
 and which seemed, with respect to the labyrinth through part of 
 which he had passed, to resemble the central point of a spider's web, 
 in which the main lines of that reptile's curious maze are always 
 found to terminate. 
 
 The resemblance did not end here ; for in this small vaulted apart- 
 ment, the walls of which were hung round with muskeloons, pistols, 
 cutlasses, and other weapons, as well as with many sets of fetters 
 and irons of different construction, all disposed in great order, and 
 ready for employment, a person sat, who might not unaptly he 
 compared to a huge bloated and bottled spider, placed there to secure 
 the prey which had fallen into his toils. 
 
 This official had originally been a very strong and square-built 
 man, of large size, but was now so over-grown, from over-feeding, 
 perhaps, and want of exercise, as to bear the same resemblance la 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 379 
 
 his former self which a stall-fed ox still retains to a wild bull. The 
 look of no man is so inauspicious as a fat man, upon whose features 
 ill nature has marked an habitual stamp. He seems to have reversed 
 the old proverb of " laugh and be fat," and to have thriven under 
 the influence of the worst aiTections of the mind. Passionate we can 
 allow a jolly mortal to be ; but it seems unnatural to his goodly case 
 to be sulky and brutal. Now, this man's features, surly and tallow- 
 coloured-, his limbs swelled and disproportioned •, his huge paunch 
 and unwieldy carcass, suggested the idea, that, having once found 
 his way into this central recess, he had there battened, like the 
 weasel in the fable, and fed largely and foully, until he had become 
 incapable of retreating through any of the narrow paths that ter- 
 minated at his cell •, and was thus compelled to remain, like a toad 
 under the cold stone, fattening amid the squalid airs of the dungeons 
 by which he was surrounded, which would have proved pestiferous 
 to any other than such a congenial inhabitant. Huge iron-clasped 
 books lay before this ominous specimen of pinguitude — the records 
 of the realm of misery, in which office he officiated as prime 
 minister^ and had Peveril come thither as an unconcerned visitor, 
 his heart would have sunk within him at considering the mass of 
 human wretchedness which must needs be registered in these fatal 
 volumes. But his own distresses sat too heavy on his mind to permit 
 any general reflections of this nature. 
 
 The constable and this bulky official whispered together, after 
 the former had delivered to the latter the warrant of Julian's com- 
 mitment. The word whispered is not quite accurate, for their 
 communication was carried on less by words than by looks and 
 expressive signs-, by which, in all such situations, men learn to 
 supply the use of language, and to add mystery to what is in itself 
 sufficiently terrible to the captive. The only words which could be 
 heard were those of the Warden, or, as he was called then, the 
 Captain of the Jail, "Another bird to the cage!" 
 
 *' Who will whistle ' Pretty Pope of Rome,' with any starling in 
 your Knight's ward," answered the constable, with a facetious air, 
 checked, however, by the due respect to the superior presence in 
 which he stood. 
 
 The Grim Feature relaxed into something like a smile as he heard 
 the officer's observation; but instantly composing himself into the 
 stern solemnity which for an instant had been disturbed, he looked 
 fiercely at his new guest, and pronounced, with an awful and 
 emphatic, yet rather an under-voice, the single and impressive 
 word " Garnishr 
 
 Julian Peveril replied with assumed composure ; for he had heard 
 of the customs of such places, and was resolved to comply with them, 
 so as if possible to obtain the favour of seeing his father, which he 
 shrewdly guessed must depend on his gratifying the avarice of the 
 
380 PEVERIL Of THE PEAK. 
 
 keeper. " I am quite ready," he said, ^' lo accede to the customs of 
 the place in which I unhappily find myself. You have but to name 
 your demands, and I will satisfy them." 
 
 So saying, he drew out his purse, thinking himself at the same 
 time fortunate that he had retained about him a considerable sum 
 of gold. The Captain remarked its width, depth, its extension and 
 depression, with an involuntary smile, which had scarce contorted 
 his hanging under-lip, and the wiry and greasy mustache which 
 thatched the upper, when it was checked by the recollection that 
 there were regulations which set bounds to his rapacity, and pre- 
 vented him from pouncing on his prey like a kite, and swooping it 
 all off at once. 
 
 This chilling reflection produced the following sullen reply lo 
 Peveril : — "There were sundry rales. Gentlemen must choose for 
 themselves. He asked nothing but his fees. But civility,'' he 
 muttered, " must be paid for." 
 
 " And shall, if I can have it for payment," said Peveril ; "but 
 the price, my good sir, the price?" 
 
 He spoke with some degree of scorn, which he was the less anxious 
 lo repress, that he saw, even in this jail, his purse gave him an in- 
 direct but powerful influence over his jailor. 
 
 The Captain seemed to feel the same ^ for, as he spoke, he plucked 
 from his head, almost involuntarily, a sort of scalded fur-cap, which 
 served it for covering. But his fingers revolting from so unusual an 
 act of complaisance, began to indemnify themselves by scratching 
 his grizzly shock-head, as he muttered, in a tone resembling the 
 softened growling of a mastiff when he has ceased lo bay the intruder 
 who shows no fear of him, — "There are different rates. There is the 
 Little Ease, for common fees of the crown — rather dark, and the 
 common-sewer runs below it ; and some gentlemen object to the 
 company, who are chiefly paddcrs and michers. Then the Master's 
 side — the garnish came to one piece— and none lay stowed there 
 but who were in for murder at the least." 
 
 " Name your highest price, sir, and lake it," was Julian's con- 
 cise reply. 
 
 "Three pieces for the Knight's ward," answered the governor 
 of this terrestrial Tartarus. 
 
 " Take five and place me with Sir Geoffrey," was again Julian's 
 answer, throwing down the money upon the desk before him. 
 
 " Sir Geoffrey? — Hum!— ay. Sir Geoffrey," said the jailor, as if 
 meditating what he ought to do. "Well, many a man has paid 
 money to see Sir Geoffrey — Scarce so much as you have, though. 
 But then you are Uke to see Ihe last on him. — Ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 These broken muttered exclamations, which terminated with a 
 laugh somewhat like Ihc joyous growl of a tiger over his meal, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 381 
 
 Julian could not comprehend ; and only replied lo by repeating his 
 request to be placed in the same cell with Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 " Ay, master," said the jailor, "• never fear 5 I'll keep word with 
 you, as you seem to know something of what belongs to your sta- 
 tion and mine. And hark ye, Jem Clink will fetch you the darbies." 
 
 "Derby I" interrupted Julian,—" Has the Earl or Countess" 
 
 "Earl or Countess! — Ha, ha, ha I" again laughed, or rather 
 growled, the warden. "What is your head running on? You are 
 a high fellow, belike ; but all is one here. The darbies are the fet- 
 locks — the fast-keepers, my boy — the bail for good behaviour, my 
 darling; and if you are not the more conforming, I can add you a 
 steel nightcap, and a curious bosom-friend, to keep you warm of 
 a winter night. But don't be disheartened ; you have behaved 
 genteel, and you shall not be put upon. And as for this here matter, 
 ten to one it will turn out chance-medley, or man-slaughter, at the 
 worst on't; and then it is but a singed thumb instead of a twisted 
 neck — always if there be no Papistry about it, for then I warrant 
 nothing. — Take Ihe gentleman's worship away. Clink." 
 
 A turnkey, who was one of Ihe party that had ushered Peveril 
 into the presence of this Cerberus, now conveyed him out in silence 5 
 and, under his guidance, the prisoner was carried through a second 
 labyrinth of passages with celis opening on each side, to that which 
 was destined for his reception. 
 
 On the road ihrough this sad region, the turnkey more than once 
 ejaculated, "Why, the gentleman must be stark-mad ! Could have 
 had the best crown cell to hi.mself for less than half the garnish, 
 and must pay double to pig in with Sir Geoffrey I Ha, ha! — Is Sir 
 Geoffrey akin to you, if one may make free to ask ?'' 
 
 "I am his son," answered Peveril, sternly, in hopes to impose 
 some curb on the fellow's impertinence •, but the man only laughed 
 louder than before. 
 
 " His son ! — Why, that's best of all — Why, you are a strapping 
 
 youth five feet ten, if you be an inch — and Sir Geoffrey's son ! 
 
 —Ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 "Truce with your impertinence," said Julian. "My situation 
 gives you no title to insult me!" 
 
 "No more I do," said the turnkey, smothering his mirth at the 
 recollection, perhaps, that the prisoner's purse was not exhausted, 
 " I only laughed because you said you were Sir Geoffrey's son. But 
 no matter — 'tis a wise child that knows his own father. And here 
 is Sir Geoffrey's cell ; so you and he may settle the fatherhood be- 
 tween you." 
 
 So saying, he ushered his prisoner into a cell, or rather a strong 
 room of the better order, in which there were four chairs, a truckle- 
 bed, and one or two other articles of furniture. 
 
 Julian looked eagerly around for his father; but to his surprise 
 
38SS PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 the room appeared totally empty. He turned with anger on llie 
 turnkey, and charged him with misleading him •, but the fellow an- 
 swered, "No, no, master •, I have kept faith with you. Your father, 
 if you call him so, is only tappiced in some corner. A small hole 
 will hide himj but I'll rouse him out presently for you. — Here, 
 hoicks? — Turn out. Sir Geoffrey! — Here is — Ha, ha, ha! — your 
 son — or your wife's son — for I think you can have but Utile share 
 in him — come to wail on you." 
 
 Peveril knew nol how to resent the man's insolence ; and indeed 
 his anxicly, and apprehension of some strange mistake, mingled 
 with, and in some degree neutralized, his anger. He looked again 
 and again, around and around the. room ^ until at length he became 
 aware of something rolled up in a dark corner, which rather re- 
 sembled a small bundle of crimson cloth than any hving creature. 
 At the vociferation of the turnkey, however, the object seemed to 
 acquire hfe and motion— uncoiled ilself in some degree, and, after 
 an effort or two, gained an erect posture •, still covered from top to 
 toe with the crimson drapery in which it was at first wrapped. 
 Julian, at the first glance, imagined from the size that he saw a child 
 of five years old ; but a shrill and peculiar tone of voice soon as- 
 sured him of his mistake. 
 
 "Warder," said Ihis unearthly sound, " what is the meaning of 
 this disturbance? Have you more insults to heap on tlie head of 
 one who hath ever been the butt of fortune's malice? But I have a 
 soul that can wreslle with all my misfortunes •, it is as large as any 
 of your bodies." 
 
 " Nay, Sir Geoffrey, if this be the way you welcome your own 
 son !"— said the turnkey •, " but you quaHly folks know your own 
 ways best." 
 
 " My son !" exclaimed the little figure. " Audacious" 
 
 " Here is some strange mistake," said Peveril in the same breath. 
 " I sought Sir Geoffrey" 
 
 "And you have him before you, young man," said the pigmy 
 tenant of the cell, wilh an air of dignity 5 at the same time casting 
 on the floor his crimson cloak, and standing before them in his full 
 dignity of three feet six inches of height. " I who was the favoured 
 servant of three successive Sovereigns of the Crown of England, am 
 now the tenant of this dungeon, and the sport of its brutal keepers. 
 I am Sir Geoffrey Hudson." 
 
 Juhan, though he had never before seen this important per- 
 sonage, had nodilficulty in recognising, from description, the cele- 
 brated dwarf of Henrietta Maria, who had survived the dangers of 
 civil war and private quarrel — the murder of his royal master, 
 Charles I., and the exile of his widow — to fall upon evil tongues and 
 evil days, amidst the unsparing accusations connected with the 
 Popish Plot. He bowed to the unhappy old man, and hastened to 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 383 
 
 explain lo him, and to the turnkey, that it was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, 
 of Martindale Castle in Derbyshire, whose prison he had desired lo 
 share. 
 
 '' You should have said thai before you parted with the gold-dust, 
 my master," answered the turnkey 5 "for t'other Sir Geoffrey, that 
 is the big, tall, grey-haired man, was sent lo the Tower last night; 
 and the Captain will think he has kept his word well enow with you, 
 by lodging you with this here Sir Geoffrey Hudson, who is the 
 belter show of the two." 
 
 "I pray you go lo your master," said Peveril; ''explain the 
 mistake ; and say to him I beg to be sent to Ihe Tower." 
 
 "The Tower?— Ha, ha, hal" exclaimed the fellow. "The 
 Tower is for lords and knights, and not for squires of low degree — 
 for high treason, and not for ruffling on the streets with rapier and 
 dagger; and there must go a secretary's warrant lo send you there." 
 
 " At least, let me not be a burden on this gentleman," said Ju- 
 lian. "There can be no use in quartering us together, since we 
 are not even acquainted. Go tell your master of the mistake." 
 
 "Why, sol should," said Clink, still grinning, "if I were not 
 sure that he knew it already. You paid to be sent lo Sir Geoffrey, 
 and he sent you lo Sir Geoffrey. You are so put down in the re- 
 gister, and he will blot it for no man. Come, come, be conform- 
 able, and you shall have light and easy irons— that's all I can do 
 for you." 
 
 Resistance and expostulation being out of the question, Peveril 
 submitted lo have a light pair of fetters secured on his ankles, which 
 allowed him, nevertheless, the power of traversing the aparlmenl. 
 
 During this operation, he reflected that the jailor, who had taken 
 the advantage of the equivoque betwixt the two Sir Geoffreys, must 
 have acted as his assistant had hinted, and cheated him from malice 
 prepense, since the warrant of committal described him as the son 
 of Sir Geoffrey Peveril. It was therefore in vain, as well as degrad- 
 ing, lo make farther application to such a man on the subject. 
 Julian determined lo submit to his fate, as what could not be averted 
 by any effort of his own. 
 
 Even the turnkey was moved in some degree by his youth, good 
 mien, and the patience with which, after the first effervescence of 
 disappointment, the new prisoner resigned himself to his situation. 
 "You seem a brave young gentleman," he said; "and shall at 
 least have a good dinner, and as good a pallet lo sleep on, as is 
 within the walls of Newgate. — And, Master Sir Geoffrey, you ought 
 lo make much of him, since you do not like tall fellows; for I can 
 tell you that Master Peveril is in for pinking long Jack Jenkins, 
 that was the Master of Defence — as tall a man as is in London, al- 
 ways excepting the King's Porter, Master Evans, that carried you 
 about in his pocket, Sir Geoffrey, as all the world has heard tell." 
 
384 - PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 ''Begone, fellow!" answered the dwarf. "Fellow, I scorn 
 you! " 
 The turnkey sneered, withdrew, and locked the door behind him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Degenerate youth, and not of Tydeus' kind, 
 Whose little body lodged a mighty mind ! 
 
 Iliad. 
 
 Left quiet at least, if not alone, for the first time after the events 
 of this troubled and varied day, Julian threw himself on an old oaken 
 seat, beside the embers of a sea-coal fire, and began to muse on the 
 miserable situation of anxiety and danger in which he was placed ; 
 where, whether he contemplated the interests of his love, his fa- 
 mily affections, or his friendship, all seemed such a prospect as 
 that of a sailor who looks upon breakers on every hand, from the 
 deck of a vessel which no longer obeys the helm. 
 
 As Peveril sat sunk in despondency, his companion in misfortune 
 drew a chair to the opposite side of the chimney-corner, and began 
 to gaze at him with a sort of solemn earnestness, which at length 
 compelled him, (hough almost in spile of himself, to pay some at' 
 tenlion to the singular figure who seemed so much engrossed with 
 contemplating him. 
 
 Geoffrey Hudson (we drop occasionally the title of knighthood, 
 which the King had bestowed on him in a frolic, but which might 
 introduce some confusion into our history), although a dwarf of the 
 least possible size, had nothing positively ugly in his countenance, 
 or actually distorted in his limbs. His head, liands, and feet, were, 
 indeed large, and disproportioned to the height of his body, and 
 his body itself much thicker than was consistent with symmetry, 
 but in a degree which was rather ludicrous than disagreeable to look 
 upon. His countenance, in particular, had he been a lillle taller, 
 would have been accounted, in youth, handsome, and now, in age, 
 striking and expressive ; it was but the uncommon disproportion 
 betwixt the head and the trunk which made the features seem 
 whimsical and bizarre — and effect which was considerably increased 
 by the dwarfs mustaches, which it was his pleasure to wear so 
 large, that they almost twisted back amongst, and mingled with, 
 his grizzled hair. 
 
 The dress of this singular wight announced that he was not en- 
 lirely free from the unhappy taste which frequently induces those 
 whom nature has marked by personal deformity, to distinguish, 
 and at the same lime to render themselves ridiculous, by the use 
 of showy colours, and garments fantastically and extraordinarily 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 385 
 
 fashioned. But poor Geoffrey Hudson's laces, embroideries and the 
 rest of iiis finery, were sorely worn and tarnished by the time which 
 he had spent in jail, under the vague and malicious accusation that 
 he was somehow or other an accomplice in this all-involving, all^ 
 devouring whirlpool of a Popish conspiracy — an impeachment 
 which, if pronounced by a moulli the foulest and most malicious, 
 was at that time sufficiently predominant to sully the fairest repu- 
 tation. It will presently appear, that in the poor man's manner of 
 thinking, and tone of conversation, there was something analogous 
 to his absurd fashion of apparel; for, as in the latter, good sluft'and 
 valuable decorations were rendered ludicrous by the fantastic fashion 
 in which they were made up-, so, such glimmerings of good sense 
 and honourable feeling as the lillle man often evinced, were made 
 ridiculous by a restless desire to assume certain airs of importance, 
 and a great jealousy of being despised, on account of the peculia- 
 rity of his outward form. 
 
 After the fellow-prisoners had looked at each other for some time 
 in silence, the dwarf, conscious of his dignity as first owner of their 
 joint apartment, thought it necessary to do the honours of it to the 
 new-corner. "Sir," he said, modifying the alternate harsh and 
 squeaking tones of his voice into accents as harmonious as they 
 could attain, *' I understand you to be the son of my worthy name- 
 sake, and ancient acquaintance, the stout Sir GeoiTrey Peveril of 
 the Peak. I promise you, I have seen your father where blows have 
 been going more plenty than gold pieces ^ and for a tall heavy man, 
 who lacked, as we martialists thought, some of the lightness and 
 activity of our more slightly made Cavaliers, he performed his duty 
 as a man might desire. I am happy to see you, his son; and, 
 though by a mistake, I am glad we are to share this comfortless 
 <5abin together," 
 
 Julian bowed and thanked his courtesy -, and Geoffrey Hudson, 
 having broken the ice, proceeded to question him without farther 
 ceremony. "You are no courtier, I presume, young gentleman?" 
 
 Juhan replied in the negative. 
 
 " I thought so," continued the dwarf; " for although I have now 
 no official duty at Court, the region in which my early years were 
 spent, and where I once held a considerable office, yet I still, 
 when I had my liberty, visited the Presence from time to time, as 
 in duty bound for former service ; and am wont, from old habit, to 
 take some note of the courtly gallants, those choice spirits of the age, 
 among whom I was once enrolled. You are, not to compliment 
 you, a marked figure, Master Peveril — though something of the 
 tallest, as was your father's case ; I think, I could scarce have seen 
 you anywhere without remembering you." 
 
 Peveril thought he might, with great justice, have returned the 
 
 25 
 
386 PEVERIL OF iriE PEAK. 
 
 compliment, but contented liimself with saying, '^he had scarce 
 seen the British Court." 
 
 *''Tispity," said Hudson^ "a gallant can hardly be formed 
 without frequenting it. But you have been perhaps in a rougher 
 school 5 you have served, doubtless?" 
 
 " My Maker, I hope," said Julian. 
 
 "Fie on it, you mistake. I meant," said Hudson, ^^« la 
 Francaisey — you have served in the army?" 
 
 "No. I have not yet had that honour," answered Julian. 
 
 "What! neither courtier nor soldier, Master Peveril?" said 
 the important litlle man : " Your father is to blame. By cock and 
 pie he is, Master Peveril! How shall a man be known , or distin- 
 guished, unless by his bearing in peace and war? I tell you, sir, 
 that at Newberry, where I charged with my troop abreast with 
 Prince Rupert, and when, as you may have heard, we were both 
 beaten off by those cuckoldy hinds the Trained Bands of London, 
 — we did what men could-, and I think it was a matter of three or 
 four minutes after most of our gentlemen had been driven off, that 
 his Highness and I continued to cut at their long pikes with our 
 swords 5 and I think might have broken in, but that I had a tali, 
 long-legged brute of a horse, and my sword was somewhat short — 
 in fine, at last we were obliged to make volte-face, and then, as I 
 was going to say, the fellows were so glad to get rid of us, that they 
 set up a great jubilee cry of ' There goes Prince Robin and Cock 
 Robin ! '—Ay, ay, every scoundrel among them knew me well. 
 But those days are over. — And where were you educated, young 
 gentleman ? " 
 
 Peveril named the household of the Countess of Derby. 
 
 " A most honourable lady, upon my word as a gentleman," said 
 Hudson. — " I knew the noble Counless well, when I was about 
 the person of my royal mistress, Henrietta Maria. She was then 
 the very muster of all that was noble, loyal, and lovely. She was, 
 indeed, one of the fifteen fair ones of the Court , whom I permitted 
 to call me Piccoluomini \ a foolish jest on my somewhat diminutive 
 figure, which always distinguished me from ordinary beings , even 
 when I was young — I have now lost much stature by stooping \ 
 but, always the ladies had their jest at me. — Perhaps, young man, 
 I had my own amends of some of them somewhere , and somehow 
 or olher-r-I say nothing if I had or no ; far less do I insinuate 
 disrespect to the noble Countess. She was daughter of the Due de 
 la Tremouille, or, more correctly, Des Thouars. But certainly to 
 serve the ladies and condescend to their humours, even when 
 somewhat too free, or too fantastic, is the true decorum of gentle 
 blood." 
 
 Depressed as his spirits were, Peveril could scarce forbear smi- 
 ling when he looked at the pigmy creature, who told these stories 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 387 
 
 with infinile complacency, and appeared disposed to proclaim, as 
 his own herald, that he had been a very model of valour and gal- 
 lantry, though love and arms seemed lo be pursuits totally irrecon- 
 cilable to his shrivelled , weather-beaten countenance, and wasted 
 limbs. Julian was, however, so careful to avoid giving his com- 
 panion pain, that he endeavoured lo humour him, by saying, that, 
 " unquestionably, one bred up like Sir Geoffrey Hudson, in courts 
 and camps, knew exactly when lo suffer personal freedoms, and 
 when to control them." 
 
 The little Knight, with great vivacity, though with some diffi- 
 culty, began to drag his seat from the side of the fire opposite to 
 that where Julian was seated, and at length succeeded in bringing 
 it near him, in token of increasing cordiaUly. 
 
 " You say well. Master Peveril," said the dwarf ^ '' and I have 
 given proofs both of bearing and forbearing. — Yes, sir, there was 
 not that thing which my most royal mistress, Henrietta Maria, 
 could have required of me, that I would not have complied with, 
 sir 5 I was her sworn servant, both in war and in festival, in battle 
 and pageant, sir. At her Majesty's particular request, I once con- 
 descended to become — ladies, you know, have strange fancies— 
 lo become the tenant, for a lime, of the interior of a pie." 
 
 " Of a pie I " said Julian, somewhat amazed. 
 
 "• Yes, sir, of a pie. I hope you find nothing risible in my com- 
 plaisance ? " replied his companion, something jealously. 
 
 '' Not I, sir," said Peveril ^ " I have other matters than laughter 
 in my head at present." 
 
 "■ So had I," said the dwarfish champion, " when I found my- 
 self imprisoned in a huge platter, of no ordinary dimensions you 
 may be assured, since I could lie at length in it, and when I was 
 entombed, as it were, in walls of standing crust, and a huge cover 
 of pastry, the whole constituting a sort of sarcophagus, of size 
 enough to have recorded the epitaph of a general officer or an 
 archbishop on the lid. Sir, notwithstanding the conveniences which 
 were made to give me air, it was more like being buried alive than 
 aught else which I could think of ^" 
 
 '* I conceive it," said Julian. 
 
 '* Moreover, sir," continued the dwarf, "• there were few in the 
 secret, which was contrived for the Queen's divertisement ^ for ad- 
 vancing of which I would have crept into a filbert nut had it been 
 possible ^ and few, as I said, being private in the scheme, there 
 was a risk of accidents.' I doubted, while in my darksome abode, 
 whether some awkward attendant might not let me fall, as I have 
 seen happen to a venison pasty ; or whether some hungry guest 
 might not anticipate the moment of my resurrection, by sticking his 
 
 ' Note, p. 392. Geofl'rey Hudson. 
 
388 PEVERir, OF THK PEAK. 
 
 knife into my upper crust. And though I had my weapons about me, 
 young man, as has been my custom in every case of peril, yet, 
 if such a rash person had plunged deep into the bowels of the sup- 
 posed pasty, my sword and dagger could barely have served me 
 to avenge, assuredly not to prevent, either of these catastrophes." 
 
 "Certainly I do so understand it," said Julian, who began, 
 however, to feel that the company of httle Hudson, talkative as he 
 showed himself, was likely rather to aggravate than to alleviate the 
 inconveniences of a prison. 
 
 " Nay," continued the little man, enlarging on his former topic, 
 " I had other subjects of apprehension ; for it pleased my Lord of 
 Buckingham, his Grace's father who now bears the title, in his 
 plenitude of Court favour, to command the pasty to be carried down 
 to the office, and committed anew to the oven, alleging preposter- 
 ously that it was better to be eaten warm than cold." 
 
 " And did this, sir, not disturb your equanimity?" said Julian. 
 " My young friend," said Geoffrey Hudson, " I cannot deny it. 
 — Nature will claim her rights from the best and boldest of us. — I 
 thought of Nebuchadnezzar and his fiery furnace •, and I waxed 
 warm with apprehension. But I thank Heaven I also thought of 
 my sworn duty to my royal mistress 5 and was thereby obliged and 
 enabled to resist all temptations to make myself prematurely known. 
 Nevertheless, the Duke— if of malice, may heaven forgive him 
 — followed down into the office himself, and urged the master- 
 cook very hard that the pasty should be heated, were it but for five 
 minutes. But the master-cook, being privy to the very different 
 intentions of my royal mistress, did most manfully resist the order 5 
 and I was again reconveycd in safety to the royal table." 
 
 "And in due time liberated from your confinement, I doubt 
 not," said Peveril. 
 
 "Yes, sir^ that happy, and I may say glorious moment, at 
 length arrived," continued the dwarf. " The upper crust was re- 
 moved — I started up to the sound of trumpet and clarion, like the 
 soul of a warrior when »the last summons shall sound— or rather 
 (if that simile be over audacious) like a spell-bound champion 
 relieved from his enchanted state. It was then that, with my buckler 
 on my arm and my trusty Bilboa in my hand, I executed a sort of 
 warlike dance, in which my skill and agility then rendered me 
 pre-eminent, displaying, at the same time, my postures, both of 
 defence and offence, in a manner so totally inimitable, that I was 
 almost deafened with the applause of all around me, and half- 
 drowned by the scented waters with which the ladies of the Court 
 deluged me from their casting-bottles. I had amends of his Grace 
 of Buckingham also j for as I tripped a hasty morris hither and 
 thither upon the dining-lable, now offering my blade, now re- 
 covering it, T made a blow at his nose- a sort of estrama^on— the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 389 
 
 dexterity of which consists in coming mighly near to the object 
 you seem to aim at, yet not attaining it. You may have seen a 
 barber make such a flourish with his razor. I promise you his 
 Grace sprung back a half-yard at least. He was pleased to threaten 
 to brain me with a chicken-bone, as he disdainfully expressed it •, 
 bul the Ring said, ' George, you have but a Rowland for an Oli- 
 ver.' And so I tripped on, showing a bold heedlessness of his dis- 
 pleasure, which few dared to have done at that time, albeit counte- 
 nanced to the utmost like me by the smiles of (he brave and the 
 fair. Bul, well a-day ! sir, youth, its fashions, its follies, its frolics, 
 and all its pomp and pride, are as idle and transitory as the 
 crackling of thorns under a pot " 
 
 '' The flower that is cast into the oven were a belter simile," 
 thought Peveril. ''Good God, that a man should live to regret not 
 being young enough to be still trealed as baked meat, and served 
 up in a pie I '' 
 
 His companion, whose tongue had for many days been as closely 
 imprisoned as his person, seemed resolved to indemnify his loqua- 
 city, by continuing to indulge it on the present occasion at his com- 
 panion's expense. He proceeded, therefore, in a solemn tone, to 
 moralize on the adventure which he had narrated. 
 
 " Young men will no doubt think one to be envied,*' he said, 
 '' who was tlius enabled to be the darling and admiration of the 
 Court "—(Julian internally stood self-exculpated from the suspi- 
 cion)—" and yet it is better (o possess fewer means of distinction, 
 and remain free from (he backbiting, the slander, and the odium, 
 which are always the share of Court favour. Men, who had no 
 other cause, cast reflections npon me because my size varied 
 somewhat from Ihe common proportion^ and jests were sometimes 
 unthinkingly passed upon me by those I was bound to, who did 
 not in that case, peradvenlure, sufTicienlly consider that the wren 
 is made by the same hand which formed Ihe bustard, and that the 
 diamond, though small in size, out- values fen Ihousand-fold the 
 rude granite. Nevertheless, they proceeded in the vein of hu> 
 mour; and as I could not in duly or gratitude retort upon nobles 
 and princes, I was compelled to cast about in my mind how to 
 vindicate my honour towards those, who, being in the same rank 
 with myself as servants and courtiers, nevertheless bore themselves 
 towards me as if they were of a superior class in the rank of honour, 
 as well as in the accidental circumstance of stature. And as a lesson 
 to my own pride, and that of others, it so happened, that the pageant 
 which I have but just narrated — which I justly reckon the most 
 honourable moment of my life, excepting perhaps my distinguished 
 share in the battle of Round-way-down— became the cause of a 
 most tragic event, in which I acknowledge the greatest misfortune 
 of my existence."' 
 
390 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 The dwarf here paused, fetched a sigh, big at once with regret, 
 and wilh the importance becoming the subject of a tragic history ^ 
 then proceeded as follows : — 
 
 " You would have thought in your simplicity, young gentleman, 
 that the pretty pageant I have mentioned could only have been 
 quoted to my advantage, as a rare masking frolic, prettily devised, 
 and not less deftly executed ^ and yet the malice of the courtiers, 
 who maligned and envied me, made them strain their wit, and 
 exhaust their ingenuity, in putting false and ridiculous construc- 
 tions upon it. In short, my ears were so much offended with al- 
 lusions to pies, puff paste, ovens, and the like, that I was compelled 
 to prohibit such subject of mirth, under penalty of my instant and 
 severe displeasure. But it happ'd there was then a gallant about 
 the Court, a man of good quality, son to a knight baronet, and in 
 high esteem with the best in that sphere, also a familiar friend of 
 mine own, from whom, therefore, I had no reason to expect any 
 of that species of gibing which I had intimated my purpose to treat 
 as olTensive. Howbeit, it pleased the honourable Mr. Crofts, so 
 was this youth called and designed, one night, at the Groom Por- 
 ter's, being full of wine and waggery, to introduce this threadbare 
 subject, and to say something concerning a goose-pie, which I 
 could not but consider as levelled at me. Nevertheless, I did but 
 calmly and solidly pray him to choose a different subject ; failing 
 which, I let him know I should be sudden in my resentment. 
 Notwithstanding, he continued in the same tone, and even aggra- 
 vated the offence, by speaking of a tomtit, and other unnecessary 
 and obnoxious comparisons; whereupon I was compelled to send 
 him a cartel, and we met accordingly. Now, as I really loved the 
 youth, it was my intention only to correct him by a flesh wound or 
 two ^ and I would willingly that he had named the sword for his 
 weapon. Nevertheless, he made pistols his election ; and being 
 on horseback, he produced, by way of his own weapon, a foolish 
 engine which children are wont, in their roguery, to uses for spout- 
 ing water •, a — a — in short, I forget the name." 
 
 "A squirt, doubtless," said Peveril, who began to recollect 
 having heard something of this adventure. 
 
 " You are right," said the dwarf ^ *' you have indeed the name 
 of the little engine, of which I have had experience in passing the 
 yards at Westminster. — Well, sir, this token ofsHght regard com- 
 pelled me to give the gentleman such language, as soon rendered it 
 necessary for him to lake more SQfious arms. We fought on horse- 
 back — breaking ground, and advancing by signal 5 and, as I 
 never miss aim, I had the misadventure to kill the Honourable 
 Master Crofts at the first shot. I would not wish my worst foe tlie 
 pain which I felt, when I saw him reel on his saddle, and so fall 
 down to the earth ! — and, when I perceived that the life-blood was 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 391 
 
 pouring fast, I could not but wish to Heaven that it had been my 
 own instead of his. Thus fell youth, hopes, and bravery, a sacri- 
 fice to a silly and thoughtless jest ; yet, alas! wherein had I choice, 
 seeing that honour is, as it were, the very breath in our nostrils ; 
 and that in no sense can we be said to live, if we permit ourselves to 
 be deprived of it?'' 
 
 The tone of feeling in which the dwarfish hero concluded his story, 
 gave Julian a better opinion of his heart, and even of his understand- 
 ing, than he had been able to form of one who gloried in having, upon 
 a grand occasion, formed the contents of a pasty. He was indeed 
 enabled to conjecture that the little champion was seduced into such 
 exhibitions, by the necessity attached to his condition, by his own 
 vanity, and by the flattery bestowed on him by those who sought plea- 
 sure in practical jokes. The fate of the unlucky Master Crofts, how- 
 over,as well as various exploits of this diminutive person during 
 the Civil Wars, in which he actually, and with great gallantry, com- 
 manded a troop of horse, rendered most men cautious of openly rally- 
 ing him •, which was indeed the less necessary, as, when left alone, 
 he seldom failed voluntarily to show himself on the ludicrous side. 
 
 At one hour after noon, the turnkey, true to his word, supplied 
 the prisoners with a very tolerable dinner and a flask of well fla- 
 voured, though light claret ; which the old man, who was something 
 of a bon-vivant, regretted to observe, was nearly as diminutive as 
 himself. The evening also passed away, but not without continued 
 symptoms of garrulity on the part of Geoffrey Hudson. 
 
 It is true these were of a graver character than he had hitherto 
 exhibited, for when the flask was empty, he repealed a long Latin 
 prayer. But the religious act in which he had been engaged, only 
 gave his discourse a more serious turn than belonged to his former 
 themes, of war, lady's love, and courtly splendour. 
 
 The little Knight harangued, at first on polemical points of divi- 
 nity, and diverged from this thorny path, into the neighbouring and 
 twilight walk of mysticism. He talked of secret warnings— of the 
 predictions of sad-eyed prophets — of the visits of monitory spirits, 
 and the Rosicrucian secrets of the Cabala ; all which topics he trea- 
 ted of with such apparent conviction, nay, with so many appeals 
 to personal experience, that one would have supposed him a member 
 of the fraternity of gnomes, or fairies, whom he resembled so much 
 in point of size. 
 
 In short, he persevered for a stricken hour in such a torrent of 
 unnecessary tattle, as determined Peveril, at all events, to endea- 
 vour to procure a separate lodging. Having repeated his evening 
 prayers in Latin, as formerly (for the old gentleman was a Catholic, 
 which was the sole cause of his falling under suspicion), he set off 
 on a new score, as they were undressing ^ and continued to prattle, 
 until he had fairly talked both himself and his companion to sleep. 
 
392 l»EVERIL OF THE PEAR. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Note, p. 387.-- Geoffrey Hudson. 
 
 Geoffrey or Jeffrey Hudson is often mentioned in anecdotes of Charles I.'s time. His 
 first appearance at court was liis being presented, as mentioned in the text, in a pie, at 
 an entertainment given by the Duke of Buckingham to Charles I. and Henrietta Maria. 
 Upon the same occasion, the Duke presented the tenant of the pasty to the Queen, who 
 retained him as her page. When about eight years of age, he was but eighteen or twenty 
 inches high ; and remained stationary at that stature till he was thirty years old, when 
 he grew to the height of three feet nine inches, and there stopped. 
 
 This singular lusus natures was trusted in some negotiations of consequence. He went 
 to France to fetch over a midwife to his mistress, Henrietta Maria. On his return, he was 
 taken by Dunkirk privateers, when he lost many valuable presents sent to the Queen 
 from France, and about 2500/. of his own. Sir William Davenant makes a real or sup- 
 posed combat between the dwarf and a turkey-cock, the subject of a poem called Jef- 
 freidos. The scene is laid at Dunkirk, where, as the satire concludes— 
 
 " Jeffrey strait was thrown, when, faiut and we^k. 
 The cruel fowl assaults him with his beak. 
 A lady midwife now he there by chance 
 Espied, that came along with him from France. 
 ' A heart bronj^ht up in war, that ne'er before 
 This time could bow,' he said, ' doth now implore 
 Thou, thai delivered hast so many, be 
 So kind of nature as deliver me.' " 
 
 We are not acquainted how far Jeffrey resented this lampoon. But we are assured be 
 Iras a consequential personage, and endured with little temper the teasing of the domes- 
 tics and courtiers, and had many squabbles with the King's gigantic porter. 
 
 The fatal duel with Mr. Crofts actually took place, as mentioned in the text. It hap- 
 pened in France. The poor dwarf had also ihe misfortune to be taken prisoner by a 
 Turkish pirate. He was, however, probably soon set at liberty, for Hudson was a cap- 
 tain for the King during the civil war. In 1644, the dwarf attended his royal mistress to 
 France. The Restoration recalled him with other royalists, to England. But this poor 
 being, who received, it would seem, hard measure both from nature and fortune, was not 
 doomed to' close his days in peace. Poor Jeffrey, upon some suspicion respecting the 
 Popish Plot, was taken up in 1682, and confined in the Gatehouse prison, Westminster, 
 where he ended his life in the sixty-third year of his age. 
 
 Jeffrey Hudson has been immortalized by the brush of Vandyke, and his clothes are^ 
 •aid to be preserved, as articles of curiosity, in Sir Hans Sloan's Museum. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Of airy tongues that syllable men's names. 
 
 Comus. 
 
 Julian had fallen asleep, with his brain rather filled with his own 
 sad reflections, than with the mystical lore of the little Knight-, and 
 yet it seemed as if in his visions the latter had been more present to 
 his mind than the former. 
 
 He dreamed of gliding spirits, gibbering phantoms, bloody 
 hands, which, dimly seen by twiUght, seemed to beckon him for- 
 ward like errant-knight on sad adventure bound. More than once 
 he started from his sleep, so lively was the influence of these vi- 
 sions on his imagination ; and he always awaked under the impres- 
 
PfiVERIL OF THE PEAK; 393 
 
 sibn thai some one stood by his bedside. Tlie chillness of his 
 ankles, the weight and clatter of the fetters, as he turned himself 
 on his pallet, reminded him on these occasions where he was, and 
 under what circumstances. The extremity to which he saw all that 
 was dear to him at present reduced, struck a deeper cold on his 
 heart than the iron upon his limbs ] nor could he compose himself 
 again to rest without a mental prayer to Heaven for protection. 
 But when he had been for a third time awakened from repose by 
 these thick-stirring fancies, his distress of mind \enled itself in 
 speech, and he was unable to suppress the almost despairing ejacu- 
 lalion, '' God have mercy upon us !" 
 
 " Amen I " answered a voice as sweet and ''^soft as honey dew," 
 which sounded as if the words were spoken close by his bedside* 
 
 The natural inference was, (hat GeotTrey Hudson, his companion 
 in calamity, had echoed the prayer which was so proper to the 
 situation of both. But the tone of voice was so different from the 
 harsh and dissonant sounds of the dwarfs enunciation, that Peveril 
 was impressed wilh the certainty it could not proceed from Hudson. 
 He was struck with involuntary terror, for which he could give 
 no sufficient reason ; and it was not without an effort that he was 
 able to utter the question. " Sir Geoffrey, did you speak ?" 
 
 No answer was returned. He repeated the question louder 5 and 
 the same silver-toned voice, which had formerly said ^'^ Amen'' to 
 his prayers, answered to his interrogatory, *' Your companion will 
 not awake while I am here." 
 
 "And who are you? — What seek you? — How came you into 
 this place?" said Peveril, huddling, eagerly, question upon 
 question. 
 
 " I am a wretched being, but one who loves you well, — I come 
 for your good.' — Concern yourself no farther. " 
 
 It now rushed on Julian's mind^ that he had heard of persons 
 possessed of the wonderful talent of counterfeiting sounds to such 
 accuracy, that they could impose on their hearers the belief, that 
 they proceeded from a point of the apartment entirely opposite to 
 that which the real speaker occupied. Persuaded I hat he had now 
 gained the depth of the mystery, he replied, " This trifling. Sir 
 Geoffrey, is unseasonable. Say what you have to say in your own 
 voice and manner. These apish pleasantries do not become midnight 
 in a Newgate dungeon." 
 
 " But the being who speaks with you, ' answered the voice^ 
 " is fitted for the darkest hour, and the most melancholy haunts." 
 Impatient of suspense, and determined to satisfy his curiosity, 
 Julian jumped at once from his pallet, hoping to secure the speaker, 
 whose voice indicated he was so near. But he altogether failed in 
 his attempt, and grasped nothing save thin air. 
 
 For a turn or two, Peveril shuffled at random about the room^ 
 
394 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 with his arms extended ; and then at last recollected, that with the 
 impediment of his shackles, and the noise which necessarily accom- 
 panied his motions, and announced where he was, it would be 
 impossible for him to lay hands on any one who might be disposed 
 to keep out of his reach. He therefore endeavoured to return to 
 his bed; but, in groping for his way, lighted first on that of his 
 fellow-prisoner. The little captive slept deep and heavy, as was 
 evinced from his breathing ; and upon listening a moment, Julian 
 became again certain, either that his companion was the most artful 
 of ventriloquists and of dissemblers, or that there was actually 
 within the precincts of that guarded chamber, some third being, 
 whose very presence there seemed to intimate that it belonged not 
 to the ordinary line of humanity. 
 
 Julian was no ready believer in the supernatural ; but that age 
 was very far from being so incredulous concerning ghostly occur- 
 rences as our own ; and it was no way derogatory to his good sense, 
 that he shared the prejudices of his time. His hair began to bristle, 
 and the moisture to stand on his brow, as he called on his compa- 
 nion to awake, for Heaven's sake. 
 
 The dwarf answered — but he spoke without awaking, — " The 
 day may dawn and be d — d. Tell (he master of the horse I will not 
 go to the hunting, unless I have the little black jennet." 
 
 " I tell you," said Julian, " there is some one in the apartment. 
 Have you not a tinder-box to strike a light?" 
 
 " I care not how slight my horse be," replied the slumberer, 
 pursuing his own train of ideas, which, doubtless, carried him 
 back to the green woods of Windsor, and the royal deer-hunts 
 which he had witnessed there. " I am not overweight. — I will not 
 ride that great Holstein brute, that I must climb up to by a ladder, 
 and then sit on his back like a pin-cushion on a elephant." 
 
 Julian at length put his hand to the sleeper's shoulder, and shook 
 him so as to awake him from his dream ; when, after two or three 
 snorts and groans, the dwarf asked, peevishly, what the devil 
 ailed him ? 
 
 '' The devil himself for what I know," said Peveril, " is at this 
 very moment in the room here beside us." 
 
 The dwarf on this information started up, crossed himself, and 
 began to hammer a flint and steel with all dispatch, until he had 
 lighted a little piece of candle, which he said was consecrated to 
 Saint Bridget, and as powerful as the herb cdWed fuga dcemonum, 
 or the liver of the fish burnt by Tobit in the house of Raguel, for 
 chasing all goblins, and evil or dubious spirits, from the place of 
 its radiance; "if, indeed," as the dwarf carefully guarded his 
 proposition, "they existed anywhere, save in the imagination of 
 his fellow-prisoner." 
 
 Accordingly, the apartment was no sooner enlightened by this 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 395 
 
 holy candle's end, Ihan Julian began to doubt the evidence of his 
 own ears; for not only was there no one in the room save Sir 
 Geoffrey Hudson and himself, but all the fastenings of the door 
 were so secure, that it seemed impossible that they could have been 
 opened and again fixed, without a great deal of noise, which, on 
 the last occasion at least, could not possibly have escaped his ears, 
 seeing that he must have been on his feet, and employed in searching 
 the chamber, when the unknown, if an earthly being, was in the act 
 of retreating from it. 
 
 Julian gazed for a moment with great earnestness, and no little 
 perplexity, first on the bolted door, then on the grated window •, 
 and began to accuse his own imagination of having played him an 
 unpleasant trick. He answered little to the questions of Hudson, 
 and returning to his bed, heard, in silence, a long studied oration 
 on the merits of Saint Bridget, which comprehended the greater 
 part of her long-winded legend, and concluded with the as- 
 surance, that, from all accounts preserved of her, that holy saint 
 was the least of all possible women, except those of the pigmy 
 kind. 
 
 By the time the dwarf had ceased to speak, Julian's desire of 
 sleep had returned; and after a few glances around the apartment, 
 which was still illuminated by the expiring beams of the holy taper, 
 his eyes were again closed in forgetfulness, and his repose was not 
 again disturbed in the course of that night. 
 
 Morning dawns on Newgate, as well as on thefreest mountain-turf 
 which Welshman or wild goat ever trode ; but in so different a fa- 
 shion, that the very beams of heaven's precious sun, when they 
 penetrate into the recesses of the prison-house, have the air of 
 being committed to jail. Still, with the light of day around him, 
 Peveril easily persuaded himself of the vanity of his preceding 
 night's visions ; and smiled when he reflected that fancies, similar 
 to those to which his ear was often exposed in the Isle of Man, had 
 been able to arrange themselves in a manner so impressive, whea 
 he heard them from the mouth of so singular a character as Hudson^ 
 and in the sohtude of a prison. 
 
 Before Julian had awaked; the dwarf had already quitted his 
 bed, and was seated in the chimney-corner of the apartment, where,, 
 with his own hands, he had arranged a morsel of fire, partly attend- 
 ing to the simmering of a small pot, which he had placed on the 
 flame, partly occupied with a huge folio volume which lay on the 
 table before him, and seemed wellnigh as tall and bulky as himself. 
 He was wrapped up in the dusky crimson cloak already mentioned, 
 which served him for a morning-gown, as well as a mantle against 
 the cold, and which corresponded with a large montcro cap, that 
 enveloped his head. The singularity of his features, and of the 
 eyes, armed with spectacles, which were now cast on the subject 
 
396 PEVERIL OF THE PEA.K4 
 
 of his Studies, now directed towards his little caldron, would have 
 tempted Rembrandt to exhibit him on canvass, either in the cha- 
 racter of an alchymist, or of a necromancer, engaged in some 
 strange experiment, under the direction of one of the huge manuals 
 which treat of the theory of these mystic arts. 
 
 The attention of the dwarf was bent, however, upon a more 
 domestic object. He was only preparing soup, of no unsavoury 
 quality, for breakfast, which he invited Peveril to partake with him, 
 " I am an old soldier," he said, " and, I must add, an old prisoner ; 
 and understand how to shift for myself better than you can do, 
 young man. — Confusion to the scoundrel Clink, he has put the 
 spicebox out of my reach ! — Will you hand it me from the mantel- 
 piece? — I will teach you, as the French have ii,faire la cuisine^ 
 and then, if you please, we will divide, like brethren, the labours 
 of our prison-house." \ 
 
 Julian readily assented to the little man's friendly proposal, with- 
 out interposing any doubt as to his continuing an inmate of the 
 same cell. Truth is, that although, upon the whole, he was in- 
 clined to regard the whispering voice of the preceding evening as 
 the impression of his own excited fancy, he fell, nevertheless, cu- 
 riosity to see how a second night was to pass over in the same cell ; 
 and the lone of the invisible intruder, which at midnight had been 
 heard by him with terror, now excited on recollection a gentle and 
 not unpleasing species of agitation — the combined effect of awe, 
 and of awakened curiosity. 
 
 Days of captivity have little to mark them as they glide away. 
 That which followed the night which we have described, afforded 
 no circumstance of note. The dwarf imparled to his youthful 
 companion a volume similar to that which farmed his own studies, 
 and which proved to be a tome of one of Scuderi's now forgotten 
 romances, of which Geoffrey Hudson was a great admirer, and 
 which were then very fashionable both at the French and English 
 Courts j although they contrive to unite in their immense fohos 
 all the improbabilities and absurdities of the old romances of chi- 
 vali'y, without that tone of imagination which pervades them, and 
 all the metaphysical absurdities which Cowley and the poets of the 
 age had heaped upon the passion of love, like so many load of 
 small-coal upon a slender fire, which it smothers instead of aiding. 
 
 But JuHan had no alternative, saving only to muse over the sor- 
 rows of Arlamenes and Mandane, or on the complicated distress of 
 his own situation ; and in these disagreeable divertisemenls, the 
 morning crept through as it could. 
 
 Noon first, and thereafter nightfall, were successively marked by 
 a brief visit from their stern turnkey, who, with noiseless step and 
 sullen demeanour, did in silence tlie necessary offices about the 
 meals of the prisoners, exchanging with them as few words as an 
 
f 
 
 PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 397 
 
 official in the Spanish Inquisition might have permitted himself 
 upon a similar occasion. With the same taciturn gravity, very dif- 
 ferent from the laughing humour into which he had been surprised 
 on a former occasion, he slruck their fetters with a small hammer, 
 to ascertain, by the sound thus produced, whether they had been 
 tampered with by file or otherwise. He next mounted on a table, to 
 make the same experiment on the window-graling, 
 
 Julian's heart throbbed ; for might not one of those grates have 
 been so tampered with as to give entrance to the nocturnal visitant ? 
 But they returned to the experienced ear of Master Clink, when he 
 struck them in turn with the hammer, a clear and ringing sound, 
 which assured him of their security. 
 
 " It would be difficult for any one to get in through these de- 
 fences," said Julian, giving vent in words to his own feelings. 
 
 "Few wish that," answered the surly groom, misconslruing what 
 was passing in Peveril's mind •, " and let me tell you, master, folks 
 will find it quite as difficult to get out." He retired, and night 
 came on. 
 
 The dwarf, who took upon himself for the day the whole duties 
 of the apartment, trundled about the room, making a most impor- 
 tant clutter as he extinguished their fire, and put aside various mat- 
 ters which had been in use in the course of the day, talking to him- 
 self all the while in a tone of no httle consequence, occasionally 
 grounded on the dexterity with which an old soldier could turn his 
 hand to every thing ; and at other times, on the wonder that a 
 courtier of Ihe first rank should condescend to turn his hand to any 
 thing. Then camt) the repelition of his accustomed prayers 5 but 
 his disposition to converse did not, as on Ihe former occasion, re- 
 vive after his devotions. On the contrary, long before Julian had 
 closed an eye, the heavy breathing from Sir Geoffrey Hudson's pal- 
 let declared that the dwarf was already in the arms of Morpheus. 
 
 Amid the total darkness of the apartment, and with a longing 
 desire, and at the same time no small fear, for the recurrence of the 
 mysterious address of the preceding evening, Julian lay long awake 
 'without his thoughts receiving any interruption, save when the 
 clock told the passing hour from the neighbouring steeple of St. Se- 
 pulchre. At length he sunk into slumber ; but had not slept, to his 
 judgment, above an hour, when he was roused by the sound which 
 his waking ear had so long expected in vain. 
 
 "' Can you sleep? — Will you sleep?— Dare you sleep? " were the 
 questions impressed on his ear, in the same clear, soft, and melo- 
 dious voice, which had addressed him on the preceding night. 
 
 '' Who is it asks me the question ? " answered Julian. " But be 
 the questioner good or evil, I reply that I am a guiltless prisoner ; 
 and that innocence may wish and dare to sleep soundly." 
 
 " Ask no questions of me," said the voice, '-neither attempt to 
 
398 PEVEIUL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 discover who speaks to you ^ and be assured that folly alone can 
 sleep, with fraud around and danger before him." 
 
 " Can you, who tell nne of dangers, counsel me how to combat 
 or how to avoid them?" said Julian. 
 
 " My power is limited," said the voice •, " yet something I can 
 do, as a glow-worm can show a precipice. But you must confide 
 in me." 
 
 "Confidence must beget confidence,"answered Julian. "Icannot 
 repose trust in I know not what or whom." 
 
 "Speak not so loud," replied the voice, sinking almost into a 
 whisper. 
 
 " Last night you said my companion would not awake," said 
 Julian. 
 
 " To-night I warrant not that he shall sleep," said the voice. 
 And as it spoke, the hoarse, snatching, discordant tones of the dwarf 
 were heard, demanding of Julian why he talked in his sleep — where- 
 fore he did not rest himself, and let other people rest— and, finally, 
 whether his visions of last night were returned upon him again? 
 
 " Say yes," said the voice, in a whisper, so low, yet so distinct, 
 that Julian almost doubted whether it was not an echo of his own 
 thought, — " Say but yes — and I part to return no more I " 
 
 In desperate circumstances men look to strange and unusual re- 
 medies ; and although unable to calculate the chances of advanlage 
 which this singular communication opened to him, Julian did not 
 feel inclined^ to let them at once escape from him. He answered 
 the dwarf, that he had been troubled by an alarming dream. 
 
 " I could have sworn it, from the sound of your voice," said 
 Hudson. " It is strange, now, that you overgrown men never pos- 
 sess the extreme firmness of nerves proper to us who are cast in a 
 more compact mould. My own voice retains its masculine sounds 
 on all occasions. Dr. Cockerel was of opinion, that there was the 
 same allowance of nerve and sinew to men of every size, and that 
 nature spun the slock out thinner or stronger, according to the ex- 
 tent of surface which they were to cover. Hence, the least crea- 
 tures are oftentimes the strongest. Place a beetle under a tall can- 
 dlestick, and the insect will move it by its efforts to get out; which 
 is, in point of comparative strength, as if one of us should shake 
 his Majesty's prison of Newgate by similar struggles. Cats also, and 
 weasels, are creatures of greater exertion and endurance than dogs 
 or sheep. And in general, you may remark, that litUe men dance 
 better, and are more unwearied under exerlion of every kind, than 
 those to whom their own weight must necessarily be burdensome. 
 I respect you. Master Peveril, because I am told you have killed 
 one of those gigantic fellows, who go about swaggering as if their 
 souls were taller than ours, because their noses are nearer to the 
 clouds by a cubit or two. But do not value yourself on this, as any 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 399 
 
 thing very unusual. I would have you to know it hath been always 
 thus ; and that, in the history of all ages, the clean, light, dapper, 
 little fellow, hath proved an overmatch for his bulky antagonist. I 
 need only instance, out of holy \Nril, the celebrated downfall of 
 Goliath, and of another lubbard, who had more fingers to his hand, 
 and more inches to his stature, than ought to belong to an honest 
 man, and who was slain by a nephew of good King David; and of 
 many others whom I do not remember •, nevertheless, they were all 
 Philislines of gigantic stature. In the classics, also, you have Ty- 
 deus, and other tight, compact heroes, whose diminutive bodies 
 were the abode of large minds. And indeed you may observe, in 
 sacred as well as profane history, that your giants are ever heretics 
 and blasphemers, robbers and oppressors, oulragers of the female 
 sex, and scoffers at regular authority. Such were Gog and 3Iagog, 
 whom our authentic chronicles Touch to have been slain near to 
 Plymouth, by the good little Knight Corineus, who gave name to 
 Cornwall. Ascaparte also was subdued by Bevis, and Colbrand by 
 Guy, as Southampton and Warwick can testify. Like unto these 
 was the giant Hoel, slain in Brelagne by King Arthur. And if Ryence, 
 King of North Wales, who was done to death by the same worthy 
 champion of Christendom, be not actually termed a giant, it is plain 
 he was little better, since he required twenty-four kings' beards, 
 which were then worn full and long, to fur his gown ; w hereby, 
 computing each beard at eighteen inches (and you cannot allow 
 less for a beard-royal), and supposing only the front of the gown 
 trimmed therewith, as we use ermine; and that the back was 
 mounted and lined, instead of cat-skins and squirrels fur. with the 
 beards of earls and dukes, and other inferior dignitaries — may 
 amount to But I will work the question to-morrow." 
 
 Nothing is more soporific to any (save a philosopher or monied 
 man ) than the operation of figures ; and w hen in bed, the effect is 
 irresistible. Sir Geoffrey fell asleep in the act of calculating King 
 Ryence's height, from the supposed length of his mantle. Indeed, 
 had he not stumbled on this abstruse subject of calculation, there is 
 no guessing how long he might have held forth upon the superio- 
 rity of men of little stature, which was so great a favourite with him, 
 that numerous as such narratives are, the dwarf had collected almost 
 all the instances of their victories over giants which history or ro- 
 mance afforded. 
 
 No sooner had unequivocal signs of the dwarfs sound slumbers 
 reached Julian's ears, than he began again to listen eagerly for the 
 renewal of that mysterious communication which was at once in- 
 teresting and awful. Even whilst Hudson was speaking, he had, 
 instead of bestowing his attention upon his eulogy on persons of low 
 stature, kept his ears on watchful guard, to mark, if possible, the 
 lightest sounds of any sort which might occur in the apartment ; so 
 
400 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK.. 
 
 that he thought it scarce possible that even a lly should have left it 
 without its motion being overheard. If, therefore, his invisible 
 monitor was indeed a creature of this world — an opinion which Ju- 
 lian's sound sense rendered him unwilling to renounce — that being 
 could not have left the apartment ^ and he waited impatiently for a 
 renewal of their communication. He was disappointed ; not the 
 slightest sound reached his ear ; and the nocturnal visitor, if still in 
 the room, appeared determined on silence. 
 
 It was in vain that Peveril coughed, hemmed, and gave other 
 symptoms of being awake; at length, such became his impatience, 
 that he resolved, at any risk, to speak first, in hopes of renewing 
 the communication betwixt them. '^ Whoever thou art," he said, 
 in a voice loud enough to be heard by a waking person, but not so 
 high as to disturb his sleeping companion— "Whoever, or what- 
 ever thou art, that hast shown some interest in the fate of such a 
 castaway as Julian Peveril, speak once more, I conjure thee 5 and 
 be your communication for good or evil, believe me, I am equally 
 prepared to abide tlie issue." 
 
 No answer of any kind was returned to this invocation ; nor did 
 the least sound intimate the presence of the being to whom it was so 
 solemnly addressed. 
 
 " I speak in vain," said Julian 5 "and perhaps I am but invoking 
 that which is insensible of human feeling, or which takes a malign 
 pleasure in human suffering." 
 
 There was a gentle and half-broken sigh from a corner of the 
 apartment, which, answering to this exclamation, seemed to con^ 
 tradict the imputation which it conveyed. 
 
 Julian, naturally courageous, and familiarized by this time to his 
 situation, raised himself in bed, and stretched out his arm^ to repeal 
 his adjuration, when the voice, as if alarmed at his action and 
 energy, whispered, in a tone more hurried than that which it had 
 hitherto used, " Be still — move not — or I am mute for ever." 
 
 "It is then a mortal being who is present with me," was the 
 natural inference of Julian, "and one who is probably afraid of 
 being detected ; I have then some power over my visitor, though 
 I must be cautious how I use it. — If your intents are friendly^" he 
 proceeded, "there was never a time in which I lacked friends 
 more, or would be more grateful for kindness. The fate of all who 
 are dear to me is weighed in the balance, and with worlds would I 
 buy the tidings of their safety." 
 
 " I have said my power is limited," replied the voice. " Fou I 
 may be able to preserve — the fate of your friends is beyond my 
 control." 
 
 " Let me at least know it," said Julian ; " and be it as it may, I 
 will not shun to share it." 
 
 " For whom would you enquire?" said the soft, sweet voice, not 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 401 
 
 wilhoul a Iremulousness of accent, as if the question was put with 
 diffident reluctance. 
 
 '' My parents," said Julian, after a moment's hesitation ^ "how 
 fare they ?--Wliat will be their fate?" 
 
 " They fare as the fort under which the enemy has dug a deadly 
 mine. The work may have cost the labour of years, such were the 
 impediments to the engineers ^ but Time brings opportunity upon 
 its wings." 
 
 " And what will be the event?" said Peveril. 
 
 '•' Can I read the future," answered the voice, "save by com- 
 parison with the past? — Who has been hunted on these stern and 
 unmitigable accusations, but has been at last brought to bay? Did 
 high and noble birth, honoured age, and approved benevolence, 
 save the unfortunate Lord Stafford ? Did learning, capacity of in- 
 trigue, or high Court favour, redeem Coleman, although the con- 
 fidential servant of the heir presumptive of the Crown of England? 
 — Did subtility and genius, and the exertions of a numerous sect, 
 save Fenwicke, or Whilbread, or any other of the accused priests? 
 — Were Groves, Pickering, or the other humble wretches who 
 have suffered, safe in their obscurity ? — There is no condition in 
 life, no degree of talent, no form of principle, which affords pro- 
 tection against an accusation, which levels conditions, confounds 
 characters, renders men's virtues their sins, and rates them as dan- 
 gerous in proportion as they have influence, though attained in 
 the noblest manner, and used for the best purposes. Call such a 
 one but an accessory to the Plot — let him be mouthed in the evi- 
 dence of Gates or Dugdale— and the blindest shall foresee the issue 
 of their trial." 
 
 " Prophet of Evil I" said Julian, " my father has a shield invul- 
 nerable to protect him. He is innocent." 
 
 " Let him plead his innocence at the bar of Heaven," said the 
 voice ; " it will serve him little where Scroggs presides." 
 
 "Still I fear not," said Julian, counterfeiting more confidence 
 than he really possessed^ "my father's cause will be pleaded be- 
 fore twelve Englishmen." 
 
 " Better before twelve wild beasts," answered the invisible, 
 " than before Englishmen, influenced with party prejudice, pas- 
 sion, and the epidemic terror of an imaginary danger. They are 
 bold in guilt in proportion to the number amongst whom the crime 
 is divided." 
 
 " Hl-omened speaker," said Julian, " thine is indeed a voice 
 fitted only to sound with the midnight bell, and the screech-owl. 
 Yet speak again. Tell me, if thou canst"— -(^he would have said of 
 Alice Bridgenorlh, but the word would not leave his tongue) — 
 " Tell me," he said, " if the noble house of Derby" 
 
 " Let them keep their rock like the sea-fowl in the tempc&t j and 
 
 26 
 
402 PEVERIL OF THE PEA.K. 
 
 it may so fall out," answered the voice, " that Iheir rock may be a 
 safe refuge. But there is blood on their ermine 5 and revenge has 
 dogged them for many a year, like a blood-hound that hath been 
 distanced in the morning chase, but may yet grapple the quarry 
 ere the sun shall set. At present, however, they are safe. — Am I 
 now to speak farther on your attairs, which involve little short of 
 your life and honour? or are there yet any whose interests you 
 prefer to your own?" 
 
 " There is," said Julian, *' one, from whom I was violently 
 parted yesterday ^ if I knew but of her safely, I were little anxious 
 for my own." 
 
 *'One!" returned the voice, *'only onefrom whom you were 
 parted yesterday ?" 
 
 " But in parting from whom," said Julian, "I fell separated from 
 all happiness which the world can give me." 
 
 " You mean Alice Bridgenorth," said the invisible, with some 
 bitterness of accent ; "• but her you will never see more. Your own 
 life and hers depend on your forgetting each other." 
 
 " I cannot purchase my own life at that price," replied Julian. 
 
 " Then die in your obstinacy," returned the invisible-, nor to all 
 the entreaties which he used was he able to obtain another word in 
 the course of that remarkable night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 A short-hough'd man, but full of pride. 
 
 Allan Ramsay. 
 
 The blood of Julian Peveril was so much fevered by the slate in 
 which his invisible visitor left him, that he was unable, for a length 
 of time, to find repose. He swore to himself, that he would discover 
 and expose the nocturnal demon which stole on his hours of rest, 
 only to add gall to bitterness, and to pour poison into those wounds 
 which already smarted so severely. There was nothing which his 
 power extended to, that, in his rage, he did not threaten. He pro- 
 posed a closer and more rigorous survey of his cell, so that he might 
 discover the mode by which his tormentor entered, were it as un- 
 noticeable as an auger-hole. If his diligence should prove un* 
 availing, he determined to inform the jailors, to whom it could not 
 be indifferent to know, that their prison was open to such in- 
 trusions. He proposed to himself, to discover from their looks, 
 whether they were already privy to these visits 5 and if so, to de- 
 nounce them to the magistrates, to the judges, to the House of 
 Commons, was the least that his resentment proposed. Sleep sur- 
 prised his worn-out frame in the midst of his projects of discovery 
 
PEVEUIL OF THE PEAK. 403 
 
 and vengeance, and, as frequently happens, the light of the ensuing 
 day proved favourable to calmer resolutions. 
 
 He now reflected that he had no ground lo consider the motives 
 of his visitor as positively malevolent, although he had afforded 
 him little encouragement to hope for assistance on the points he 
 had most at heart. Towards himself (here had been expressed a 
 decided feeling, both of sympathy and interest^ if through means 
 of these he could acquire his liberty, he might, when possessed of 
 freedom, turn it lo the benefit of those for whom he was more in- 
 terested than for his own welfare. ''.I have behaved like a fool," 
 he said; " I ought to have temporized with this singular being, 
 learned the motives of its interference, and availed myself of its suc- 
 cour, provided I could do so without any dishonourable conditions. 
 It would have been always lime enough to reject such when they 
 should have been proposed to me." 
 
 So saying, he was forming projects for regulating his intercourse 
 with the stranger more prudently, in case their communication 
 should be renewed, when his meditations were interrupted by the 
 peremptory summons of Sir Geoffrey Hudson, that he would, in 
 his turn, be pleased to perform those domestic duties of their com- 
 mon habitation, which the dwarf had yesterday taken upon himself. 
 
 There was no resisting a request so reasonable, and Peveril ac- 
 cordingly rose and betook himself to the arrangement of their pri- 
 son, while Sir Hudson, perched upon a stool from which his legs 
 did not by half way reach the ground, sat in a posture of elegant 
 languor, twangling upon an old broken-winded guitar, and singing 
 songs in Spanish, Moorish, and Lingua Franca, most detestably 
 out of tune. He failed not, at the conclusion of each ditty, to favour 
 Julian with some account of what he had sung, either in the way 
 of translation, or historical anecdote, or as the lay was connected 
 with some peculiar part of his own eventful history, in the course 
 of which the poor little man had chanced to have been taken by a 
 Sallee rover, and carried captive into Morocco. 
 
 This part of his life Hudson used to make the era of many strange 
 adventures-, and, if he could himself be believed, he had made wild 
 work among the affections of the Emperor's seraglio. But, although 
 few were in a situation to cross-examine him on gallantries and 
 intrigues of which the scene was so remote, the officers of the 
 garrison of Tangier had a report current amongst them, that the 
 only use to which the tyrannical Moors could convert a slave of 
 such slender corporeal strength, was to employ him lo lie a-bed all 
 day, and hatch turkey's eggs. The least allusion to this rumour used 
 to drive him well nigh frantic, and the fatal termination of his duel 
 with young Crofts, which began in wanton mirth, and ended in 
 bloodshed, made men more coy than they had formerly been, of 
 making the fiery little hero the subject of their raillery. 
 
404 PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 While Pcveril did llie drudgery of llie aparlmenl, llie dwarf 
 remained much at his ease, caroling in the manner we have de- 
 scribed ; but when he beheld Julian allempling Ihe task of the cook, 
 Sir Geoffrey Hudson sprung from the slool on which he sat en 
 Signor, at the risk of breaking both his guitar and his neck, ex- 
 claiming, " That he would rather prepare breakfast every morn- 
 ing betwixt this and the day of judgment, than commit a task of 
 such consequence to an inexperienced bungler like his companion." 
 
 The young man gladly resigned his task to the splenetic little 
 Knight, and only smiled at his resentment when he added, that, 
 to be but a mortal of middle stature, Julian was a stupid as a giant. 
 Leaving the dwarf lo prepare the meal after his own pleasure, 
 Peveril employed himself in measuring the room with his eyes on 
 every side, and in endeavouring to discover some private entrance, 
 such as might admit his midnight visitant, and perhaps could be 
 employed in case of need for effecting his own escape. The floor 
 next engaged a scrutiny equally minute, but more successful. 
 
 Close by his own pallet, and dropped in such a manner that he 
 must have seen it sooner but for the hurry with which he obeyed 
 the summons of the impatient dwarf, lay a slip of paper, sealed, 
 and directed with the initial letters J. P., which seemed to ascertain 
 that it was addressed lo himself. He took the opportunity of opening 
 it while the soup was in the very moment of projection, and the 
 full attention of his companion was occupied by what he, in com- 
 mon with wiser and taller men, considered as one of the principal 
 occupations of life^ so that, without incurring his observation, 
 or awaking his curiosity, Julian had the opportunity to read as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Rash and infatuated as you are, there is one who would forfeit 
 much to stand betwixt you and your fate. You are to-morrow to be 
 removed to the Tower, where your life cannot be assured for a single 
 day •, for, during the few hours you have been in London, you have 
 provoked a resentment which is not easily slaked. There is but one 
 chance for you, — renounce A. B.— think no more of her. If that 
 be impossible, think of her but as one whom you can never see 
 again. If your heart can resolve to give up an attachment which 
 it should never have entertained, and which it would be madness 
 to cherish longer, make your acquiescence in this condition known 
 by pulling on your hat a white band, or while feather, or knot of 
 ribbon of the same colour, whichever you may most easily come 
 by. A boat will, in that case, run, as if by accident, on board of 
 that which is lo convey you lo the Tower. Do you in the confusion 
 jump overboard, and swim lo the Southwark side of the Thames. 
 Friends will attend there to secure your escape, and you will find 
 yourself with one wlio will rather lose character and life, Ihan thai 
 
PKVKUIL OF THE PKAK. 405 
 
 a hair of your head should fall to the ground ; but who, if you reject 
 the warniog, can only think of you as of the fool who perishes in 
 his folly. May Heaven guide you to a sound judgment of your con- 
 dition ! So prays one who would be your friend, if you pleased, 
 
 " Unknown." 
 
 The Tower!— it was a word of terror, even more so than a civil 
 prison •, for how many passages to death did that dark structure 
 present I The severe executions which it had witnessed in preced- 
 ing reigns, were not perhaps more numerous than the secret mur- 
 ders which had taken place within its walls; yetPeveril did not a 
 moment hesitate on the part which he had to perform. " I will 
 share my father's fate," he said ; " I thought but of him when they 
 brought me hither; I will think of nothing else when they convey 
 me to yonder still more dreadful place of confinement; it is his, 
 and it is but meet that it should be his son's. — And thou, Alice 
 Bridgenorth, the day that I renounce thee, may I be held alike a 
 traitor and a dastard I — Go, false adviser, and share the fate of se- 
 ducers and heretical teachers!" 
 
 He could not help uttering this last expression aloud, as he threw 
 the billet into the fire, with a vehemence which made the dwarf 
 start with surprise. "What say you of burning heretics, young 
 man?" he exclaimed; "by my faith, your zeal must be warmer 
 than mine, if you talk on such a subject when the heretics are the 
 prevailing number. May I measure six feet without my shoes, but 
 the heretics would have the best of it if we came to that work. 
 Beware of such words." 
 
 " Too late to beware of words spoken and heard," said the 
 turnkey, who, opening the door with unusual precautions to avoid 
 noise, had stolen unperceived into the room; " however. Master 
 Peveril has behaved like a gentleman, and I am no tale-bearer, on 
 condition he will consider I have had trouble in his matters." 
 
 Julian had no alternative but to lake the fellow's hint and ad- 
 minister a bribe, with which Master Clink was so well satisfied, that 
 he exclaimed, " It went to his heart to take leave of such a kind- 
 nalured gentleman, and that he could have turned the key on him 
 for twenty years with pleasure. But the besl friends must part." 
 " I am to be removed, then?" said Julian. 
 " Ay, truly, master, the warrant is come from the Council." 
 " To convey me to the Tower ?j| 
 
 "Whew!" exclaimed the otTicer cf Ihe law — " who the devil 
 told you that? But since you do know it there is no harm to say 
 ay. So make yourself ready to move immediately ; and first, hold 
 out your dew-beaters till I take off the darbies." 
 
 "Is that usual?" said Peveril, stretching out his feet as the 
 fellow directed, while his foUcrs were unlocked. 
 
406 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 '' Why, ay, master, these tellers belong lo the keeper; they are 
 not a-going to send them to the Lieutenant, I (row. No, no, the 
 warders must bring their own gear with them; they get none here, 
 I promise them. Nevertheless, if your honour hath a fancy to go 
 in fellers, as thinking it may move compassion of your case" 
 
 ''I have no intention to make my case seem worse than it is," 
 said Julian, whilst at the same time, .it crossed his mind that his 
 anonymous correspondent must be well acquainted both with his 
 own personal habits, since the letter proposed a plan of escape 
 which could only be executed by a bold swimmer, and with the 
 fashions of the prison, since it was foreseen that he would not be 
 ironed on his passage to the Tower. The turnkey's next speech 
 made him carry conjecture still farther. 
 
 '' There is nothing in life I would not do for so brave a guest," 
 said Clink •, "• I could nab one of my wife's ribbons for you, if your 
 honour had the fancy to mount the white flag in your beaver." 
 
 "To what good purpose?" said Julian, shortly connecting, as 
 was natural, the man's proposed civility with the advice given and 
 the signal prescribed in the letter. 
 
 '^Nay, lo no good purpose I know of," said the turnkey ; " only 
 it is the fashion to seem while and harmless — a sort of token of nol- 
 guiltiness, as I may say, which folks desire to show the world whe- 
 ther they be truly guilty or not ; but I cannot say that guiltiness or 
 not-guiltiness argufies much, saving they be words in Ihe vardict." 
 
 " Strange," thought Peveril, although the man seemed to speak 
 quite naturally, and v^iihout any double meaning, " strange that all 
 should apparently combine to realize the plan of escape, could I 
 but give my consent lo it ! And had I nol belter consent? Whoever 
 does so much for me must wish me well, and a wellwisher would 
 never enforce the unjust conditions on which I am required lo 
 consent lo my liberation." 
 
 But this misgiving of his resolution was but for a moment. He 
 speedily recollected, that whoever aided him in escaping, must be 
 necessarily exposed to great risk, and had a right to name the sti- 
 pulation on which he was willing to incur it. He also recollected 
 that falsehood is equally base, whether expressed in words or in 
 dumb show; and that he should lie as flatly by using the signal 
 agreed upon in evidence of his renouncing Alice Bridgenortli, as 
 he would in direct terms if he made such renunciation without the 
 purpose of abiding by it. ^ 
 
 " If you would oblige me," he said to the turnkey, "let me have 
 a piece of black silk crape for the purpose you mention." 
 
 " Of crape," said the fellow; " what should that signify? Why, 
 the bien morls, who bing out to tour at you', will think you a 
 chimney-sweeper on May-day." 
 
 ' The smart girls, wlio turn out lo look at you. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 407 
 
 '* It will show my settled sorrow," said Julian, '' as well as my 
 determined resolution." 
 
 '' As you will, sir," answered (he fellow; " I'll provide you with 
 a black rag of some kind or other. So, now, let us be moving." 
 
 Julian inlimaled his readiness to atlend him, and proceeded to 
 bid farewell to his late companion, the slout Geoffrey Hudson. The 
 parting was not without emotion on both sides, more particularly 
 on that of the poor little man, who had taken a particular liking to 
 the companion of whom lie was now about to be deprived. " Fare 
 ye well," he said, " my young friend," taking Julian's hand in 
 both his own uplifted palms, in which action he somewhat resem- 
 bled the attitude of a sailor pulling a rope overhead, — ''Many in 
 my situation would think himself wronged, as a soldier and servant 
 of the King's chamber, in seeing you removed to a more honour- 
 able prison than that which I am limited unto. But, I thank God, 
 I grudge you not the Tower, nor the Rocks of Scilly, nor even 
 Carisbrooke Castle, though the latter was graced with the captivity 
 of my blessed and martyred master. Go where you will, I wish 
 you all the distinction of an honourable prison-house, and a safe 
 and speedy deliverance in God's own lime. For myself, my race 
 is near a close, and that because I fall a martyr to the over-ten- 
 derness of my own heart. There is a circumstance, good Master 
 Julian Peveril, which should have been yours, had Providence 
 permitted our farther intimacy, but it fits not the present hour. 
 Go, then, my friend, and bear witness in life and death, that 
 Geoffrey Hudson scorns the insults and persecutions of fortune, as 
 he would despise, and has often despised, the michievous pranks 
 of an overgrown schoolboy." 
 
 So saying, he turned away, and hid his face with his little hand- 
 kerchief, while Julian felt towards him that tragi-comic sensation 
 which makes us pity the object which excites it, not the less that 
 we are somewhat inclined to laugh amid our sympathy. The jailor 
 made him a signal, which Peveril obeyed, leaving the dwarf to dis- 
 consolate solitude. 
 
 As Julian followed the keeper through the various windings of 
 this penal labyrinth, the man observed, that "- he was a rum fellow, 
 that little Sir Geoffrey, and, for gallantry, a perfect Cock of Bantam, 
 for as old as he was. There was a certain gay wench," he said, 
 '' that had hooked him ; but what she could make of him, save she 
 carried him to Smithfield, and look money for him, as for a motion 
 of puppets, it was," he said, " hard to gather." 
 
 Encouraged by this opening, Julian asked if his attendant knew 
 why his prison was changed. " To teach you to become a King's 
 post without commission," answered the fellow. 
 
 He slopped in his tattle as they approached that formidable cen- 
 tral point, in which lav couched on his leathern elbow-chair the 
 
408 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 fat commander of the fortress, stationed apparently for ever in the 
 midst of his citadel, as the huge Boa is sometimes said to lie stretched 
 as a guard upon the subterranean treasures of Eastern Rajahs. 
 Tliis overgrown manof authority eyed Julian wistfully and sullenly, 
 as the miser the guinea which he must part with, or the hungry 
 mastilT the food which is carried to another kennel. He growled to 
 himself as he turned the leaves of his ominous register, in order 
 to make the necessary entry respecting the removal of his prisoner. 
 "To the Tower — to the Tower — ay, ay, all must to the Tower — 
 that's the fashion of it — free Britons to a military prison, as if we 
 had neither bolts nor chains here! I hope Parliament will have it 
 up, this Towering work, that's all. — Well, the youngster will take 
 no good by the change, and that is one comfort." 
 
 Having finished at once his official act of registration, and his 
 soliloquy, he made a signal to his assistants to remove Julian, who 
 was led along the same stern passages which he had traversed upon 
 his entrance, to the gate of the prison, whence a coach, escorted by 
 two officers of justice, conveyed him to the waterside. 
 
 A boat here waited him, with four warders of the Tower, to whose 
 custody he was formally resigned by his late attendants. Clink, 
 however, the turnkey, with "whom he was more especially ac- 
 quainted, did not take leave of him without furnishing him with 
 the piece of black crape which he requested. Peveril fixed it on his 
 hat amid the whispers of his new guardians. " The gentleman is 
 in a hurry to go into mourning," said one ; " mayhap he had belter 
 wait till he has cause." 
 
 " Perhaps others may wear mourning for him, ere he can mourn 
 for any one," answered another of these functionaries. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding the tenor of these whispers, their behaviour 
 to their prisoner was more respectful than he had experienced 
 from his former keepers, and might be termed a sullen civility. 
 The ordinary officers of the law were in general rude, as having to 
 do with felons of every description ^ whereas these men were only 
 employed with persons accused of state crimes — men who were 
 from birth and circumslances usually entitled to expect, and able 
 to reward, decent usage. 
 
 The change of keepers passed unnoticed by Julian, as did the 
 gay and busy scene presented by the broad and beauliful river on 
 which he was now launched. A hundred boats shot past them, 
 bearing parlies intent on business, or on pleasure. Julian only 
 viewed them with the stern hope, that whoever had endeavoured 
 to bribe him from his fidelity by the hope of freedom, might see, 
 from the colour of the badge which he had assumed, how deter- 
 mined he was to resist the temptation presented to him. 
 
 It was about high water, and a stout wherry came up the river, 
 with sail and oar, so directly upon that in which Julian was em- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 401? 
 
 barked, that it seemed as if likely to run her aboard. '^ Get your 
 carabines ready," cried the principal warder to his assistants. 
 " What the devil can these scoundrels mean?" 
 
 But the crew in Ihe other boat seemed to have perceived their 
 error, for they suddenly altered their course, and struck off into the 
 middle stream, while a torrent of mutual abuse was exchanged 
 betwixt them and the boat whose course they had threatened to 
 impede. 
 
 " The Unknown has kept his faith," said Julian to himself; *'I 
 too have kept mine." 
 
 It even seemed to him, as the boats neared each other, that he 
 heard from the other wherry, something like a stifled scream or 
 groan; and when the momentary bustle was over, he asked the 
 warder who sat next him, what boat that was. 
 
 " Men-of-war's-men on a froHc, I suppose," answered the warder. 
 ** I know no one else would be so impudent as run foul of the 
 King's boat; for I am sure the fellow put the helm up on purpose. 
 But mayhap you, sir, know more of the matter than I do." 
 
 This insinuation effectually prevented Julian from putting farther 
 questions, and he remained silent until the boat came under the 
 dusky bastions of the Tower. The tide carried them up under a 
 dark and lowering arch, closed at the upper end by the wellknown 
 Traitor's gate ', formed like a wicket of huge intersecting bars of 
 wood, through which might be seen a dim and imperfect view of 
 soldiers and warders upon duty, and of the steep ascending cause- 
 way which leads up from the river into the interior of the fortress. 
 By this gate — and it is the well-known circumstance which assigned 
 its name — those accused of slate crimes were usually committed to 
 the Tower. The Thames afforded a secret and silent mode of con- 
 veyance for transporting thither such whose fallen fortunes might 
 move the commiseration, or whose popular qualities might excite 
 the sympathy, of the public; and even where no cause for especial 
 secrecy existed, the peace of the city was undisturbed by the tumult 
 attending the passage of the prisoner and his guards through the 
 most frequented streets. 
 
 Yet this custom, however recommended by state policy, must 
 have often struck chill upon the heart of the criminal, who thus, 
 stolen, as it were, out of society, reached the place of his confine- 
 ment, without encountering even one glance of compassion on the 
 road; and as, from under the dusky arch, he landed on those flinty 
 steps, worn by many a footstep anxious as his own, against which 
 the tide lapped fitfully with small successive waves, and thence 
 looked forward to the steep ascent into a Gothic state-prison, and 
 backward to such part of the river as the low-brow'd vault suffered 
 
 ' See Fortunes of Nigel, Note to Chapter XXVII. 
 
410 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 to become visible, he must often have felt that he was leaving 
 daylight, hope, and life itself, behind him. 
 
 While the warder's challenge was made and answered, Peveril 
 endeavoured to obtain information from his conductors where he 
 was likely to be confined ; but the answer was brief and general — 
 *"' Where the Lieutenant should direct." 
 
 *' Could he not be permitted to share the imprisonment of his 
 father. Sir Geoffrey Peveril? " He forgot not, on this occasion, to 
 add the surname of his house. 
 
 The warder, an old man of respectable appearance, slared, as 
 if at the extravagance of the demand, and said bluntly, '' It is im- 
 possible." 
 
 ''At least," said Peveril, "show me where my father is con- 
 fined, that I may look upon the walls which separate us." 
 
 "Young gentleman," said the senior warder, shaking his grey 
 head, " I am sorry for you \ but asking questions will do you no 
 service. In this place v^e know nothing of fathers and sons." 
 
 Yet chance seemed, in a few minutes afterwards, to offer Peveril 
 that satisfaction which the rigour of his keepers was disposed to 
 deny to him. As he was conveyed up the steep passage which leads 
 under what is called the Wakefield Tpwer, a female voice, in a tone 
 wherein grief and joy were indescribably mixed, exclaimed, "My 
 son!— My dear son?" 
 
 Even those who guarded Julian seemed softened by a tone of 
 such acute feeling. They slackened their pace. They almost 
 paused to permit him to look up towards the casem.ents from which 
 the sounds of maternal agony proceeded 5 but the aperlure was 
 so narrow, and so closely grated, that nothing was visible save a 
 white female hand, which grasped one of those rusty barricadoes, 
 as if for supporting the person within, while another streamed a 
 white handkerchief, and then let it fall. The casement was instantly 
 deserted. 
 
 " Give it me," said Julian to the officer who lifted the handker- 
 chief ^ " it is perhaps a mother's last gift." 
 
 The old warder lifted the napkin, and looked at it with the 
 jealous minuteness of one who is accustomed to detect secret cor- 
 respondence in the most trifling acts of intercourse. 
 
 "There may be writing on it with invisible ink," said one of 
 his comrades. 
 
 " It is wetted, but I think it is only with tears," answered the 
 senior. "I cannot keep it from the poor young gentleman." 
 
 "Ah, Master Coleby," said his comrade, in a gentle tone of 
 reproach, "you would have been wearing a better coat than a 
 yeoman's to-day, had it not been for your tender heart." 
 .''11 signifies mile," said old Coleby, " while my heart is true to 
 
PEVERIL OF Tift: PEAK. ill 
 
 my King, what I feel in discharging my duty, or what coat keeps 
 my old bosom from the cold weather." 
 
 P^veril, meanwhile, folded in his breast the token of his mother's 
 affection which chance had favoured him with ^ and when placed in 
 the small and solitary chamber which he was told to consider as his 
 own during his residence in the Tower, he was soothed even lo 
 weeping by this trifling circumslance, which he could not help 
 considering as an omen, that his unfortunate house was not en- 
 tirely deserted by Providence. 
 
 But the thoughts and occurrences of a prison are too uniform for 
 a narrative, and we must now convey our readers into a more bus- 
 tling scene. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI r. 
 
 Henceforth 'lis done— Fortune and I are friends . 
 And I must live, for Buckingham commends. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 The Spacious mansion of the Duke of Buckingham, with the 
 demesne belonging to it, originally bore the name of York House, 
 and occupied a large portion of the ground adjacent to the Savoy. 
 
 This had been laid out by the munificence of his father, the fa- 
 vourite of Charles the First, in a most splendid manner, so as al- 
 most to rival Whitehall itself. But during the increasing rage for 
 building new streets, and the creating of almost an additional town, 
 in order to connect London and Westminster, this ground had 
 become of very great value 5 and the second Duke of Buckingham, 
 who was at once fond of scheming, and needy of money, had 
 agreed to a plan laid before hin:i by some adventurous architect, 
 for converting the extensive grounds round his palace into those 
 streets, lanes, and courts, which still perpetuate his name and 
 lilies •, though those who live in Buckingham-street, Duke-street, 
 Viliiers'-streel, or in Of-alley (for even that connecting particle is 
 locally commemorated), probably think seldom of the memory of 
 (he witty, eccentric, and licentious George Yiliiers, Duke of Buc- 
 kingham, whose titles are preserved in the names of their residence 
 and its neighbourhood. 
 
 This building-plan the Duke had entered upon with all the eager- 
 ness which he usually attached lo novelty. His gardens were 
 destroyed — his pavilions levelled — his splendid stables demolished 
 — the whole pomp of his suburban demesne laid waste, cumbered 
 with ruins, and intersected with the foundations of new buildings 
 and cellars, and the process of levelling different lines for the in- 
 tended streets. But the undertaking, although it proved afterwards 
 
4J2 X>EVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 both lucrative and successful, met with a check at the outset, partly 
 from want of the necessary funds, partly from the impatient and 
 mercurial temper of the Duke, which soon carried him off in pur- 
 suit of some more new object. So that, though much was de- 
 molished, very little, in comparison, was reared up in the stead, 
 and nothing was completed. The principal part of the ducal man- 
 sion still remained uninjured; but the demesne in which it stood 
 bore a strange analogy to the irregular mind of its noble owner. 
 Here stood a beautiful group of exotic trees and shrubs, the remnant 
 of the garden, amid yawning common-sewers and heaps of rubbish. 
 In one place an old tower threatened to fall upon the spectator; 
 and in another, he ran the risk of being swallowed up by a modern 
 vault. Grandeur of conception could be discovered in the under- 
 taking, but was almost everywhere marred by poverty or negligence 
 of execution. In short, the whole place was the true emblem of 
 an understanding and talents run to waste, and become more dan- 
 gerous than advantageous to society, by the want of steady prin- 
 ciple, and the improvidence of the possessor. 
 
 There were men who look a different view of the Duke's purpose 
 in permitting his mansion to be thus surrounded, and his demesne 
 occupied by modern buildings which were incomplete, and ancient 
 which were but half demolished. They alleged, that, engaged as 
 he was in so many mysteries of love and of politics, and having the 
 character of the most daring and dangerous intriguer of his time, 
 his Grace found it convenient to surround himself with this ruinous 
 arena, into which officers of justice could not penetrate without 
 some difficulty and hazard; which might afford, upon occasion, a 
 safe and secret shelter for such tools as were fit for desperate enter- 
 prises, and a private and unobserved mode of access to those whom 
 he might have any special reason for receiving in secret. 
 
 Leaving Peveril in the Tower, we must once more convey our 
 readers to the levee of the Duke, who, on the morning of Julian's 
 transference to that fortress, thus addressed his minister-in-chief, 
 and principal attendant : — " I have been so pleased with your con- 
 duct in this matter, Jerningham, that if Old Nick were to arise in 
 our presence, and offer me his best imp as a familiar in thy room, 
 I would hold it but a poor compliment." 
 
 "A legion of imps," said Jerningham, bowing, "could not have 
 been more busy than I in your Grace's service ; but if your Grace 
 will permit me to say so, your whole plan was wellnigh marred by 
 your not returning home till last night, or rather this morning." 
 
 "And why, I pray you, sage Master Jerningham," said his Grace, 
 " should I have returned home an instant sooner than my pleasure 
 and convenience served?" 
 
 "Nay, my Lord Duke," replied the attendant, "I know not; 
 only, when you sent us word by Empson, in Chiffinch's apartment, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 4l3 
 
 to command us to make sure of Ihe girl at any rale, and al all risks, 
 you said you would be here so soon as you could get freed of the 
 King." 
 
 " Freed of the King, you rascal I What sort of phrase is that?'* 
 demanded the Duke. 
 
 "It was Empson who used il, my lord, as coming from your 
 Grace." 
 
 " There is much very fit for my Grace to say, that misbecomes 
 such mouths as Empson's or yours to repeal," answered the Duke, 
 haughtily, but instantly resumed his tone of famiharity, for his 
 humour was as capricious as his pursuits. " But I know what thou 
 wouldst have 5 first, your wisdom would know what became of me 
 since thou hadst my commands at Chiffinch's^ and next, your 
 valour would fain sound another flourish of trumpets on Ihine own 
 most artificial retreat, leaving thy comrade in the hands of the 
 Philistines." 
 
 "May it please your Grace," said Jerningham, "I did but re- 
 treat for the preservation of the baggage." 
 
 " What! do you play at crambo with me?" said Ihe Duke. "I 
 would have you know that the common parish fool should be whipt, 
 were he to attempt to pass pun or quodlibet as a genuine jest, 
 even amongst ticket-porters and hackney-chairmen." 
 
 ••' And yet I have heard your Grace indulge in the jeu de mots,'' 
 answered the attendant. 
 
 " Sirrah Jerningham," answered the patron, " discard thy me- 
 mory, or keep it under correction, else it will hamper thy rise in 
 the world. Thou mayst perchance have seen me also have a fancy 
 to play at trap-ball, or to kiss a serving-wench, or to guzzle ale and 
 eat toasted cheese in a porlerly whimsy 5 but is it fitting thou 
 shouldst remember such follies? No more onU. — Hark you; how 
 came the long lubberly fool, Jenkins, being a master of the noble 
 science of defence, to sufl'er himself to be run through the body 
 so simply by a rustic swain like this same Peveril?" 
 
 " Please your Grace, this same Corydon is no such novice. I 
 saw the onset ; and, except in one hand, I never saw a sword ma- 
 naged with such life, grace, and facility." 
 
 '• Ay, indeed?" said Ihe Duke, taking his own sheathed rapier 
 in his hand, " 1 could not have thought that. I am somewhat rusted, 
 and have need of breathing. Peveril is a name of note. As well 
 go to Barns-elms, or behind Montagu House, with him as with 
 another. His father a rumoured plotter, too. The public would 
 have noted it in me as becoming a zealous Protestant. Needful I 
 do something to maintain my good name in the city, to alone for 
 non-attendance on prayer and preaching. But your Laertes is fast 
 in the fleet-, and I suppose his blundering blockhead of an antago- 
 nist is dead or dying." 
 
iH PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 '' Recovering, my lord, on the contrary," replied Jerningham •, 
 '' the blade fortunately avoided his vitals." 
 
 " D— n his vitals I" answered the Duke. '' Tell him to postpone 
 his recovery, or I will put him to death in earnest." 
 
 "■ I will caution his surgeon," said Jerningham, " which will 
 answer equally well. " 
 
 " Do so; and tell him he had better be on his own death-bed as 
 cure his patient till I send him notice. — That young fellow must 
 be let loose again at no rate." 
 
 "There is little danger," said the attendent. " I hear some of 
 the witnesses have got their net flung over him on account of some 
 matters down in the north ; and that he is to be translated to the 
 Tower for that, and for some letters of the Countess of Derby, as 
 rumour goes." 
 
 " To the Tower let him go, and get out as he can," replied the 
 Duke 5 " and when you hear he is fast there, let the fencing fellow 
 recover as fast as the surgeon and he can mutually settle it." 
 
 The Duke, having said this, took two or three turns in the apart- 
 ment, and appeared to be in deep thought. His attendant waited 
 the issue of his meditations at leisure, being well aware that such 
 moods, during which his mind was strongly directed in one point, 
 were never of so long duration with his patron as to prove a severe 
 burden to his own patience. 
 
 Accordingly, after the silence of seven or eight minutes, the Duke 
 broke through it, taking from the toilette a large silk purse, which 
 seemed full of gold. " Jerningham," he said, " thou art a faithful 
 fellow, and it would be sin not to cherish thee. I beat the King at 
 Mall on his bold defiance. The honour is enough for me; and 
 thou, my boy, shall have the winning." 
 
 Jerningham pocketed the purse with due acknowledgments. 
 
 " Jerningham," his Grace continued, " I know you blame me 
 for changing my plans too often ; and on my soul I have heard you 
 so learned on the subject, that I have become of your opinion, 
 and have been vexed at myself for two or three hours together, 
 for not sticking as constantly to one object, as doubtless 1 shall, 
 when age (touching his forehead) shall make this same weather- 
 cock too rusty to turn with the changing breeze. But as yet, while 
 I have spirit and action, let it whirl hke the vane at the mast-head, 
 which teaches the pilot how to steer his course 5 and when I shift 
 mine, think I am bound to follow fortune, and not to control her." 
 
 " I can understand nothing from all this, please your Grace," 
 replied Jerningham, '' save that you have been pleased to change 
 some purposed measures, and think that you have profited by 
 doing so." 
 
 *' You shall judge yourself," replied the Duke. *' I have seen 
 the Duchess of Portsmouth.— You start. It is true, by Heaven I 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 415 
 
 I have seen her, and from sworn enemies we have become sworn 
 friends. The treaty between such high and mighty powers had 
 some weighty articles ^ besides, I had a French negotiator to deal 
 with j so that you will allow a few hours' absence was but a ne- 
 cessary Interval to make up our matters of diplomacy." 
 
 *' Your Grace astonishes me," said Jerningham. ^'Christian's 
 plan of supplanting the great lady is then entirely abandoned? I 
 thought you had but desired to have the fair successor here, in 
 order to carry it on under your own management." 
 
 •' I forget what I meant at the lime," said the Duke ; " unless 
 that I was resolved she should not jilt me as she did the good- 
 natured rnan of royalty ; and so I am still determined, since you 
 put me in mind of Ihe fair Dowsabelle. But I had a contrite note 
 from the Duchess while we were at the Mall. I went to see her, 
 and found her a perfect Niobe. — On my soul, in spite of red eyes 
 and swelled features, and dishevelled hair, there are, after all, 
 Jerningham, some women, who do, as the poets say, look lovely 
 in affliction. Oul came the cause ^ and with such humility, such 
 penitence, such throwing herself on my mercy (she the proudest 
 devil, too, in the whole Court ^, that I must have had heart of steel 
 to resist it all. In short, ChifTmch in a drunken fit had played the 
 babbler, and let young Saville into our intrigue. Saville plays the 
 rogue, and informs the Duchess by a messenger, who luckily came 
 a little late into the market. She learned, too, being a very devil 
 for intelligence, that there had been some jarring between the mas- 
 ter and me about this new Philhs ; and that I was most likely to 
 catch the bird, — as any one may see who looks on us both. It must 
 have been Empson who fluted all this into her Grace's ear ; and 
 thinking she saw how her ladyship and I could hunt in couples, 
 she entreats me to break Christian's scheme, and keep the wench 
 out of the King's sight, especially if she were such a rare piece of 
 perfection as fame has reported her." 
 
 " And your Grace has promised her your hand to uphold the 
 influence which you have so often threatened to ruin?" said Jer- 
 ningham. 
 
 " Ay, Jerningham ^ my turn was as much served when she 
 seemed to own herself in my power, and cry me mercy.— And ob- 
 serve, it is all one to me by which ladder I cHmb into the King's 
 cabinet. That of Portsmouth is ready fixed — better ascend by it 
 than fling it down to put up another — I hate all unnecessary trou- 
 ble." 
 
 " And Christian?" said Jerningham. 
 
 " May go to the devil for a self-conceited ass. One pleasure of 
 this twist of intrigue is, to revenge me of that villain, who thought 
 himself so essential, that, by Heaven I he forced himself on my 
 privacy, and lectured me like a schoolboy. Hang the cold-blooded 
 
416 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 hypocritical vermin I If he mutters, I will have his nose slit as wide 
 as Coventry's *.— Hark ye, is the Colonel come?" 
 
 " I expect him every moment, your Grace." 
 
 ''Send him up when he arrives," said the Duke.——" Why 
 do you stand looking at me ? What would you have?" 
 
 '' Your Grace's direction respecting the young lady," said Jer- 
 ningham. 
 
 " Odd zooks," said the Duke, *' I had totally forgotten her.— Is 
 she very tearful ?— Exceedingly afflicted ?" 
 
 " She does not take on so violently as I have seen some do," 
 said Jerningham ; "but for a strong, firm, concentrated indigna- 
 tion, I have seen none to match her." 
 
 " Well, we will permit her to cool. I will not face the affliction 
 of a second fair one immediately. I am tired of snivelling, and 
 swelled eyes, and blubbered cheeks, for some time 5 and, moreover, 
 must husband my powers of consolation. Begone, and send the 
 Colonel." 
 
 " Will your Grace permit me one other question? " demanded 
 his confidant. 
 
 "Ask what thou wilt, Jerningham, and then be gone." 
 
 " Your Grace has determined to give up Christian," said the 
 attendant. " May I ask what becomes of the kingdom of Man? 
 
 " Forgotten, as I have a Christian soul! " said the Duke; "as 
 much forgotten as if I had never nourished that scheme of royal 
 ambition. — D — n it, we must knit up the ravelled skean of that 
 intrigue. — ^Yet it is but a miserable rock, not worth the trouble I 
 have been bestowing on it; and for a kingdom — it has a sound in- 
 deed ; but, in reality, I might as well stick a cock-chicken's fea- 
 ther into my hat, and call it a plume. Besides, now I think upon 
 it, it would scarce be honourable to sweep that petty royalty out 
 of Derby's possession. I won a thousand pieces of the young Earl 
 when he was last here, and suffered him to hang about me at 
 Court. I question if the whole revenue of his kingdom is worlh 
 twice as much. Easily I could win it of him, were he here, with 
 less trouble than it would cost me to carry on these troublesome 
 intrigues of Christian's." 
 
 " If I may be permitted to say so, please your Grace," answered 
 Jerningham, "although your Grace is perhaps somewhat liable 
 to change your mind, no man in England can afford better reasons 
 for doing so." 
 
 " I think so myself, Jerningham," said the Duke ; "and it may 
 be it is one reason for my changing. One likes to vindicate his ow n 
 conduct, and to find out fine reasons for doing what one has a mind 
 
 ' The ill usage of Sir John Coventry by some of ihe Life Guardsmen, in revenge of 
 something said in Parliament concerning the King's theatrical amours, gave rise to wha( 
 was called Coventry's Act, against cutting and maiming the person. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 4l7 
 
 to. —And now, once again, begone. Or, hark ye — hark ye — I shall 
 need some loose gold. You may leave the purse I gave you ; and 
 I will give you an order for as much, and two years' interest, on old 
 Jacob Doublefee." 
 
 *'As your Grace pleases," said Jerningham, his whole stock of 
 complaisance scarpely able to conceal his mortification at ex- 
 changing for a distant order, of a kind which of lale had not been 
 very regularly honoured, the sunny contents of the purse which 
 had actually been in his pocket. Secretly but solemnly did he 
 make a vow, that two years' interest alone should not be the 
 compensation for this involuntary exchange in the form of his 
 remuneration. 
 
 As the discontented dependant left the apartment, he met, at 
 the head of the grand staircase. Christian himself, who, exercising 
 the freedom of an ancient friend of the house, was making his way, 
 unannounced, to the Duke's dressing-apartment. Jerningham, 
 conjecturing that his visit at this crisis would be any thing but 
 well-timed, or well-taken, endeavoured to avert his purpose, by 
 asserting that the Duke was indisposed, and in his bedchamber ^ 
 and this he said so loud that his master might hear him, and, if he 
 pleased, realize the apology which he offered in his name, by re- 
 treating into the bed-room as his last sanctuary, and drawing the 
 bolt against intrusion. 
 
 But, far from adopting a stratagem to which he had had recourse 
 on former occasions, in order to avoid those who came upon him, 
 though at an appointed hour and upon business of importance, 
 Buckingham called, in a loud voice, from his dressing-apartment, 
 commanding his chamberlain instantly to introduce his good 
 friend Master Christian, and censuring him for hesitating for an 
 instant to do so. 
 
 "Now," thought Jerningham within himself, *' if Christian knew 
 the Duke as well as I do, he would sooner stand the leap of a lion, 
 like the London 'prentice bold, than venture on my master at this 
 moment, who is even now in a humour nearly as dangerous as 
 the animal." 
 
 He then ushered Christian into his master's presence, taking care 
 to post himself within ear-shot of the door. 
 
418 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 " Speak not of niceness, when there's chance of wreck/' 
 The captain said, as ladies writhed their neck 
 To see the dying dolphin flap the deck .- 
 " If we go down, on us these gentry sup ; 
 We dine upon them, if we haul them up. 
 Wise men applaud us when we eat the eaters. 
 As the devil laughs when keen folks cheat the cheaters." 
 
 The Sea J^oyage. 
 
 There was nothing in the Duke's manner towards Christian which 
 could have conveyed lo that latter personage, experienced as he was 
 in the worst possible ways of the world, that Buckingham would, at 
 that particular moment, rather have seen the devil than himself; 
 unless it was that Buckingham's reception of him, being rather 
 extraordinarily courteous towards so old an acquaintance, might 
 have excited some degree of suspicion. 
 
 Having escaped with some difliculty from the vague region of 
 general compliments, which bears the same relation lo llial of 
 business that Milton informs us the Limbo Patrum has to the sen- 
 sible and material earth. Christian asked his Grace of Buckingham, 
 with the same blunt plainness with which he usually veiled a very 
 deep and artificial character, whether he had lately seen Chiffinch or 
 his helpmate? 
 
 ' ' Neither of them lately," answered Buckingham. '^^ Have not you 
 waited on them yourself? — I thought you would have been more 
 anxious about the great scheme." 
 
 " I have called once and again," said Christian, "but I can gain 
 no access to the sight of that important couple. I begin to be afraid 
 they are paltering with me." 
 
 " Which, by the welkin and its stars, you would not be slow in 
 avenging. Master Christian. I know your puritanical principles on 
 that point well," said the Duke. ""Revenge may be well said lo be 
 sweet, when so many grave and wise men are ready to exchange 
 for it all the sugar-plums which pleasures offer to the poor sinful 
 people of the world, besides the reversion of those which they talk 
 of expecting in the way of post ohlV 
 
 '' You may jest, my lord," said Christian, " but still" — 
 
 " But still you will be revenged on Chiffinch, and his little com- 
 modious companion. And yet the task may be difficult — Chiffinch 
 has so many ways of obliging his master — his little woman is such 
 a convenient pretty sort of a screen, and has such winning little 
 ways of her own, that, in faith, in your case, 1 would not meddle 
 with them. What is this refusing their door, man? We all do it to 
 our best friends now and then, as well as to duns and dull company." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 419 
 
 " If your Grace is in a humour of rambling thus wildly in your 
 talk," said Christian, "you know my old faculty of patience — I can 
 wail till it be your pleasure to talk more seriously." 
 
 " Seriously !" said his Grace— '* Wherefore not? — I only wait to 
 know what your serious business may be." 
 
 " In a word, my lord, from Chiffinch's refusal to see me, and some 
 vain calls which I have made at your Grace's mansion, I am afraid 
 either that our plan has miscarried, or that there is some intention to 
 exclude me from the further conduct of the matter." Christian pro- 
 nounced these words wilh considerable emphasis. 
 
 " That were folly, as well as Ireachery," returned the Duke, "to 
 exclude from the spoil the very engineer who conducted the attack. 
 But hark ye. Christian — I am sorry to tell bad news without prepa- 
 ration ; but as you insist on knowing the worst, and are not ashamed 
 to suspect your best friends, out it must come — Your niece left 
 Chiffinch's house the morning before yesterday." 
 
 Christian staggered, as if he had received a severe blow ; and the 
 blood ran to his face in such a current of passion, that the Duke 
 concluded he was struck with an apoplexy. But, exerting the 
 extraordinary command which he could maintain under the most 
 trying circumstances, he said, wilh a voice, the composure of 
 which had an unnatural contrast with the alteration of his coun- 
 tenance, "Am I to conclude, that in leaving the protection of the 
 roof in which I placed her, the girl has found shelter under that of 
 your Grace?" 
 
 "Sir," replied Buckingham, gravely, "the supposition does my 
 gallantry more credit than it deserves." 
 
 "Oh, my Lord Duke," answered Christian, " I am not one whom 
 you can impose on by this species of courtly jargon. I know of what 
 your Grace is capable ; and that to gratify the caprice of a moment, 
 you would not hesitate to disappoint even the schemes at which you 
 yourself have laboured most busily. — Suppose this jest played off. 
 Take your laugh at those simple precautions by which I intended 
 to protect your Grace's interest, as well as that of others. Let us 
 know the extent of your frolic, and consider how far its consequences 
 can be repaired." 
 
 "On my word. Christian," said the Duke, laughing, "you are 
 the most obliging of uncles and of guardians. Let your niece pass 
 through as many adventures as Boccaccio's bride of the King of 
 Garba, you care not. Pure or soiled, she will still make the foof- 
 slool of your fortune." 
 
 An Indian proverb says, that the dart of contempt will even pierce 
 through the shell of the tortoise-, but this is more peculiarly the case 
 when conscience tells the subject of the sarcasm that it is justly 
 merited. Christian, slung with Buckingham's reproach, at once 
 assumed a haughty and threatening mien^, totally inconsistent with 
 
420 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 that in which sufferance seemed lo be as much his badge as that of 
 Shy lock. " You are a foul-mouthed and most unworthy lord," he 
 said; *'and as such I will proclaim you, unless you make reparation 
 for the injury you have done me." 
 
 "And what," said the Duke of Buckingham, "shall I proclaim 
 youy that can give you the least title lo notice from such as I am ? 
 What name shall I bestow on the little transaction which has given 
 rise to such unexpected misunderstanding?" 
 
 Christian was silent, either from rage or from mental conviction. 
 
 "Come, come, Christian," said the Duke, smiling, "we know 
 too much of each other to make a quarrel safe. Hate each other we 
 may — circumvent each other— it is the way of Courts— but proclaimi 
 — a fico for the phrase." 
 
 " I used it not," said Christian, "till your Grace drove me to 
 extremity. You know, my lord, I have fought both at home and 
 abroad ; and you should not rashly think that I will endure any 
 indignity which blood can wipe away." 
 
 "On the contrary," said the Duke, with the same civil and 
 sneering manner, " I can confidently assert, that the life of half a 
 score of your friends would seem very light to you, Christian, if their 
 existence interfered, I do not say with your character, as being a 
 thing of much less consequence, but with any advantage which their 
 existence might intercept. — Fie upon it, man, we have known each 
 other long. I never thought you a coward ; and am only glad to see 
 I could strike a few sparkles of heat out of your cold and constant 
 disposition. I will now, if you please, tell you at once the fate 
 of the young lady, in wbich I pray you to believe that I am truly 
 interested." 
 
 "I hear you, my Lord Duke," said Christian. "The curl of 
 your upper hp, and your eyebrow, does not escape me. Your 
 Grace knows the French proverb, ' He laughs best who laughs last.' 
 But I hear you." 
 
 "Thank Heaven you do," said Buckingham; "for your case 
 requires haste, I promise you, and involves no laughing mailer. 
 Well, then, hear a simple truth, on which ( if it became me to offer 
 any pledge for what I assert to be such) I could pledge life, for- 
 tune, and honour. It was the morning before last, when meeting 
 with the King at Chiffinch's unexpectedly — in fact I had looked in 
 to fool an hour away, and to learn how your scheme advanced — 
 I «saw a singular scene. Your niece terrified little Chiffinch — (Ihe 
 -lien Chiffinch, I mean)-, bid the Ring defiance to his teeth, and 
 walked out of the presence triumphantly, under the guardianship 
 of a young fellow of little mark or likelihood, excepting a tolerable 
 personal presence, and the advantage of a most unconquerable im- 
 pudence. Egad, I can hardly help laughing to think how the King 
 and I were both baffled ; for 1 will not deny, that I had tried to 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 421 
 
 trifle for a moment with Ihc fair Indamora. But, egad, the young 
 fellow swooped her off from under our noses, like my own Draw- 
 cansir clearing off the banquet from the two Rings of Brenlford. 
 There was a dignity in the gallant's swaggering retreat which I 
 must try to leach Mohun '; it will suit his part admirably." 
 
 "This is incomprehensible, my Lord Duke," said Christian, 
 who by this time had recovered all his usual coolness j "you can- 
 not expect me to believe this. Who dared be so bold as to carry 
 off my niece in such a manner, and from so august a presence? 
 And with whom, a stranger as he must have been, would she, wise 
 and cautious as I know her, have consented to depart in such a 
 manner? — My lord, I cannot believe this." 
 
 " One of your priests, my most devout Christian," replied the 
 Duke, " would answer. Die, intidel, in thine unbelief; but I am 
 only a poor worldling sinner, and will add what mite of information 
 I can. The young fellow's name, as I am given to understand, is 
 Julian, son of Sir Geoffrey, whom men call Peveril of the Peak." 
 
 " Peveril of the Devil, who hath his cavern there I" said Chris- 
 tian, warmly; "for I know that gallant, and believe him capable 
 of any thing bold and desperate. But how could he intrude himself 
 into the royal presence? Either Hell aids him, or Heaven looks 
 nearer into mortal dealings than I have yet believed. If so, may 
 God forgive us, who deemed he thought not on us at all!" 
 
 "Amen, most christian Christian," replied the Duke. " I am 
 glad to see thou hast yet some touch of grace that leads thee to 
 augur so. But Empson, the hen Chiffinch, and half a dozen more, 
 saw the swain's entrance and departure. Please examine these wit- 
 nesses with your own wisdom, if you think your time may not be 
 better employed in tracing the fugitives. I believed he gained 
 entrance as one of some dancing or masking party. Rowley, you 
 know, is accessible to all who will come forth to make him sport. 
 So in stole this termagant tearing gallant, like Samson among the 
 Philistines, to pull down our fine scheme about our ears." 
 
 " I believe you, my lord," said Christian 5 " I cannot but believe 
 you ; and I forgive you, since it is your nature, for making sport of 
 what is ruin and destruction. But which way did they take ?" 
 
 "To Derbyshire, I should presume, to seek her father," said 
 the Duke. "She spoke of going into the paternal protection, in- 
 stead of yours. Master Christian. Something had chanced at Chif- 
 finch's, to give her cause to suspect that you had not altogether 
 provided for his daughter in the manner which her father was likely 
 to approve of." 
 
 " Now, Heaven be praised," said Christian, " she knows not her 
 father is come to London ! and they must be gone down either to 
 
 ' Then a noted actor. 
 
422 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Marlindale Castle, or lo Moullrassie Hall ; in either case they are 
 in my power— I must follow them close. 1 will return instantly lo 
 Derbyshire— I am undone if she meet her father until these errors 
 are amended. Adieu, my lord. I forgive the part which I fear your 
 Grace must have had in baulking our enterprise — it is no time for 
 nmtual reproaches." 
 
 " You speak truth, Master Chrislian," said the Duke, " and I 
 wish you all success. Can I help you with men or horses, or 
 money?" 
 
 *' I (hank your Grace,'* said Christian, and hastily left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 The Duke watched his descending footsteps on the staircase, 
 until they could be heard no longer, and then exclaimed to Jer- 
 ningham, who entered, ^'■Victoria! victoria! magna est Veritas 
 et prevalebit! — Had I told the villain a word of a lie, he is so fami- 
 liar with all the regions of falsehood — his whole life has been such 
 an absolute imposture, that I had stood detected in an instant-, but 
 I told him truth, and that was the only means of deceiving him. 
 Victoria! my dear Jerningham, I am prouder of cheating Christian, 
 than I should have been of circumventing a minister of state." 
 
 " Your Grace holds his wisdom very high," said the attendant. 
 
 " His cunning, at least, I do, which, in Court affairs, often takes 
 the weather-gage of wisdom,- — as in Yarmouth Roads a herringbuss 
 will baffle a frigate. He shall not return to London if I can help it, 
 until all these intrigues are over." 
 
 As his Grace spoke, the Colonel, after whom he had repeatedly 
 made enquiry, was announced by a gentleman of his household. 
 *' He met not Christian, did he?" said the Duke hastily. 
 
 " No, my lord," returned the domestic, " the Colonel came by 
 the old garden staircase." 
 
 " T judged as much," replied the Duke ; '''tis an owl that will 
 ?iol take wing in daylight, when there is a thicket left to skulk under. 
 Here he comes from threading lane, vault, and ruinous alley, very 
 near as ominous a creature as the fowl of ill augury which he re- 
 sembles." 
 
 The Colonel, to whom no other appellalion seemed to be given 
 than that which belonged to his military station, now entered the 
 apartment. He was tall, strongly built, and past the middle period 
 of life, and his countenance, but for the heavy cloud which dwell 
 upon it, might have been pronounced a handsome one. While the 
 Duke spoke to him, either from humility or some other cause, his 
 large serious eye was cast down upon the ground; but he raised it 
 when he answered, with a keen look of earnest observation. His 
 dress was very plain, and more allied to that of the Puritans than of 
 the Cavaliers of the time ; a shadowy black hat like the Spanish som- 
 brero, a large black mantle or cloak, and a long rapier, gave him 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 423 
 
 something the air of a Caslilione, to which his gravity and stiffness 
 of demeanour added considerable strength. 
 
 " Well, Colonel," said the Duke, " we have been long strangers 
 — how have matters gone with you?" 
 
 *' As with other men of action in quiet times," answered the 
 Colonel, ''or as a good war-caper ' that lies high and dry in a 
 muddy creek, till seams and planks are rent and riven." 
 
 " Well, Colonel," said the Duke, " I have used your valour be- 
 fore now, and I may again ^ so that I shall speedily s€e that the 
 vessel is careened, and undergoes a thorough repair." 
 
 '' I conjecture, then," said the Colonel, " that your Grace has 
 some voyage in hand ?" 
 
 " No, but there is one which I want to interrupt," replied the 
 Duke. 
 
 " 'Tis but another stave of the same tune. — Well, my lord, I 
 listen," answered the stranger. 
 
 " Nay," said the Duke, ''it is but a trifling matter after all. — 
 You know Ned Christian?" 
 
 "Ay, surely, my lord," replied the Colonel, *' we have been long 
 known to each other." 
 
 '' He is about to go down to Derbyshire to seek a certain niece 
 of his, whom he will scarcely find there. Now, I trust to your tried 
 friendship to interrupt his return to London. Go with him, or 
 meet him, cajole him, or assail him, or do what thou wilt with him 
 — only keep him from London for a fortnight at least, and then I 
 care little how soon he comes." 
 
 ''For by that time, I suppose," replied the Colonel, "any one 
 may find the wench that thinks her worth the looking for." 
 
 " Thou mayst think her worth the looking for thyself. Colonel," 
 rejoined the Duke; "I promise you sh^ hath many a thousand 
 stitches to her petticoat 5 such a wife would save thee from skel- 
 dering on the public." 
 
 " My lord, I sell my blood and my sword, but not my honour," 
 answered the man sullenly, " if I marry, my bed may be a poor, 
 but it shall be an honest one." 
 
 " Then thy wife will be the only honest matter in thy possession, 
 Colonel — at least since I have known you," replied the Duke. 
 
 "Why, truly, your Grace may speak your pleasure on that 
 point. It is chiefly your business which I have done of late j and 
 if it were less strictly honest than I could have wished, the em- 
 ployer was to blame as well as the agent. But for marrying a cast- 
 off mistress, the man (saving your Grace, to whom I am bound) 
 lives not who dares propose it to me." 
 
 The Duke laughed loudly. " Why, this is mine Ancient Pistol's 
 vein," he replied. 
 
 * A Pritateer. 
 
4ii PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 — -" * Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, 
 
 And by my side wear steel P—- then Lucifer take all ! '" 
 
 '* My breeding is too plain to understand ends of playhouse verse, 
 my lord," said the Colonel sullenly, " Has your Grace no other ser- 
 vice to command me?" 
 
 " None— only I am told you have published a Narrative con- 
 cerning the Plot \" 
 
 " What should ail me, my lord?" said the Colonel 5 *' I hope I 
 am a witness as competent as any that has yet appeared ?" 
 
 " Truly, I think so to the full," said the Duke-, " and it would 
 have been hard, when so much profitable mischief was going, if so 
 excellent a Protestant as yourself had not come in for a share." 
 
 " I came to take your Grace's commands, not to be the object of 
 your wit," said the Colonel. 
 
 " Gallantly spoken, most resolute and most immaculate Colonel ! 
 As you are to be on full pay in my service for a month to come, I 
 pray your acceptance of this purse, for contingents and equipments, 
 and you shall have my instructions from time to time." 
 
 " They shall be punctually obeyed, my lord," said the Colonel; 
 " I know the duly of a subaltern officer. I wish your Grace a good 
 morning." 
 
 So saying, he pocketed the purse, without either affecting hesi- 
 tation, or expressing gratitude, but merely as a part of a transaction 
 in the regular way of business, and stalked from the apartment 
 with the same sullen gravity which marked his entrance. " Now, 
 there goes a scoundrel after my own heart," said the Duke; "a 
 robber from his cradle, a murderer since he could hold a knife, a 
 profound hypocrite in religion, and a worse and deeper hypocrite 
 in honour, — would sell his soul to the devil to accomplish any vil- 
 lainy, and would cut the throat of his brother, did he dare to give 
 the villainy he had so acted its right name. — ^Now, why stand you 
 amazed, good Master Jerningham, and look on me as you would 
 on some monster of Ind, when you had paid your shilling to see 
 it, and were staring out your pennyworth with your eyes as round 
 as a pair of spectacles? Wink, man, and save them, and then let 
 thy tongue untie the mystery." 
 
 ** On my word, my Lord Duke," answered Jerningham, *' since 
 I am compelled to speak, I can only say, that the longer I live with 
 your Grace, I am the more at a loss to fathom your motives of 
 action. Others lay plans, either to attain profit or pleasure by their 
 execution; but your Grace's delight is to counteract your own 
 schemes, when in the very act of performance ; like a child — forgive 
 me — that breaks its favourite toy, or a man who should set fire to 
 the house he has half built." 
 
 ' Wote, p. 427. Colonel Blood's Narrative. 
 
PEVEniL Ot THE PEAK. 425^ 
 
 " And why not, if he wanted to warm his hands at the blaze?'' 
 said the Duke. 
 
 *' Ay, my lord," replied his dependant ; " but what if, in doing 
 so, he should burn his fingers? — My lord, it is one of your noblest 
 qualities, that you will sometimes listen to the truth without taking 
 offence ; but were it otherwise, I could not, at this moment, help 
 speaking out at every risk." 
 
 " Well, say on, I can bear it," said the Duke, throwing himself 
 into an easy-chair, and using his toothpick with graceful indiffe- 
 rence and equanimity •, '' I love to hear what such potsherds as thou 
 art, think of the proceedings of us who are of the pure porcelain 
 clay of the earth."- 
 
 " In the name of heaven, my lord, let me then ask you," said 
 Jerningham, *' what merit you claim, or what advantage you ex- 
 pect, from having embroiled every thing in which you are con- 
 cerned to a degree which equals the chaos of the blind old Round- 
 head's poem which your Grace is so fond of? To begin with the 
 King. In spite of good-humour, he will be incensed at your re- 
 peated rivalry." 
 
 " His Majesty defied me to it." 
 
 " You have lost all hopes of the Isle, by quarrelling with 
 Christian." 
 
 " I have ceased to care a farthing about it," replied the Duke. 
 
 " In Christian himself, whom you have insulted, and to whose 
 family you intend dishonour, you have lost a sagacious, artful, and 
 cool-headed inslrument and adherent," said the monitor, 
 
 "Poor Jerningham I" answered the Duke; ''Christian would 
 say as much for thee, I doubt not, wert thou discarded to-morrow. 
 It is the common error of such tools as you and he to think them- 
 selves indispensable. As to his family, what was never honourable 
 cannot be dishonoured by any connexion with my house." 
 
 "I say nothing of Chiffinch," said Jerningham, ''offended as. 
 he will be when he learns why, and by whom, his scheme has 
 been ruined, and the lady spirited away — He and his wife, I say 
 nothing of them." 
 
 " You need not," said the Duke; "for were they even fit per- 
 sons to speak to me about, the Duchess of Portsmouth has bar- 
 gained for their disgrace." 
 
 " Then this bloodhound of a Colonel, as he calls himself, your 
 Grace cannot even lay him on a quest which is to do you service, 
 but you must do him such indignity at the same time, as he will 
 not fail to remember, and be sure to fly at your throat should he 
 ever have an opportunity of turning on you." 
 
 " I will take care he has none," said the Duke; " and yours, 
 Jerningham, is a low-lived apprehension. Beat your spaniel 
 heartily if you would have him under command. Ever let your 
 
426 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 agents see you know what ihey are, and prizo (hem accordingly. 
 A rogue, who must needs be treated as a man of honour, is apt to 
 get above his work. Enough, therefore, of your advice and cen- 
 sure, .Terningham ^ we differ in every particular. Were we both 
 engineers, you would spend your life in watching some old woman's 
 wheel, which spins flax by the ounce ^ I must be in the midst of the 
 most varied and counteracting machinery, regulating checks and 
 counter-checks, balancing weights, proving springs and wheels, 
 directing and controlling a hundred combined powers." 
 
 "And your fortune, in the meanwhile?" said Jerningham; 
 '* pardon this last hint, my lord." 
 
 ^' My fortune," said the Duke, " is too vast to be hurt by a petty 
 wound •, and I have, as thou knowest, a thousand salves in store 
 for the scratches and scars which it sometimes receives in greasing 
 my machinery." 
 
 *' Your Grace does not mean Dr. Wilderhead's powder of pro- 
 jection?" 
 
 '' Pshaw ! he is a quacksalver, and mountebank, and beggar." 
 
 " Or Solicitor Drowndland's plan for draining the fens?" 
 
 *' He is a cheat, — videlicet, an attorney." 
 
 " Or the Laird of Lackpelfs sale of Highland woods?" 
 
 '' He is a Scotsman," said the Duke,—" videlicet, \ioi\\ cheat 
 and beggar." 
 
 "These streets here, upon the site of your noble mansion-house?" 
 said Jerningham. 
 
 " The architect's a bite, and the plan's a bubble. I am sick of 
 the sight of this rubbish, and I will soon replace our old alcoves, 
 alleys, and flowerpots, by an Italian garden and a new palace." 
 
 " That, my lord, would be to waste, not to improve your for- 
 tune," said his domestic. 
 
 " Clodpate, and muddy spirit that thou art, thou hast forgot the 
 most hopeful scheme of all — the South-Sea Fisheries — their stock 
 is up 50 per cent already. Post down to the Alley, and tell old 
 Manasses to buy 20,000/. for me. — Forgive me, Plutus, I forgot 
 to lay my sacrifice on the shrine, and yet expected thy favours ! 
 — Fly post haste, Jerningh am—for thy life, for thy life, for thy 
 life ' ! " 
 
 With hands and eyes uplifted, Jerningham left the apartment 5 
 and the Duke, without thinking a moment further on old or new 
 intrigues— on the friendship he had formed, or the enmity he had 
 provoked — on the beauty whom he had carried off from her na- 
 tural protectors, as well as from her lover — or on the monarch 
 
 • Slock-Jobbing, as it is called, thai is, dealing in shares of monopolies, patents, and 
 joint-stock companies of every description, was at least as common in Charles II.'s 
 time as our own ; and as the exercise of ingenuity in this way promised a road to wealllv 
 without the necessity of industry, it was then much pursued by dissolute caurticrs. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 427 
 
 against whom he had placed himself in rivalship, — sal down to 
 calculate chances with all the zeal of Demoivre, tired of the drud- 
 gery in half an hour, and refused to see the zealous agent whom 
 he had employed in the city, because he was busily engaged in 
 writing a new lampoon. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
 
 Note p. 424— Colonel Blood's narrative. 
 
 Of Blood's Narrative, Roger North takes the following notice,—" There was another 
 
 sham plot of one Netterville. And here the good Colonel Blood, that stole the 
 
 Duke of Ormond, and, if a timely rescue had not come in, had hanged him at Tyburn, 
 and afterwards stole the crown, though he was not so happy as to carry it ofF; no player 
 at small games, he, even he, the virtuous Colonel, as this sham plot says, was to have 
 been destroyed by the Papists. It seems these Papists would let no eminent Protestant 
 be safe. But some amends were made to the Colonel by sale of the narrative, licensed 
 Thomas Blood, It would have been strange if so much mischief were stirring, and he 
 )jad not come in for a snack."— Exawjew, edit, mi, p. 3ii. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Ah ! changeful head, and fickle heart ! 
 
 Progress of Discontent. 
 
 No event is more ordinary in narratives of this nature, than the 
 abduction of the female on whose fate the inferest is supposed to 
 turn •, but that of Alice Bridgenorth was thus far particular, that 
 she was spirited away by the Duke of Buckingham, more in con- 
 tradiction than in the rivalry of passion •, and that, as he made his 
 first addresses to her at ChifTinch's, rather in the spirit of rivalry 
 to his Sovereign, than from any strong impression which her 
 beauty had made on his affections, so he had formed the sudden 
 plan of spiriting her away by means of his dependants, rather to 
 perplex Christian, the King, Chiffinch, and all concerned, than 
 because he had any particular desire for her society at his own 
 mansion. Indeed, so far was this from being the case, that his 
 Grace was rather surprised than delighted with the success of the 
 enterprise which had made her an inmate there, although it is pro- 
 bable he might have thrown himself inlo an Imconlrollable passion, 
 had he learned its miscarriage instead of its success. 
 
 Twenty-four hours passed over since he had returned to his own 
 roof, before, notwithstanding sundry hints from Jerningham, he 
 could even determine on the exertion necessary to pay his fair 
 captive a visit 5 and then it was with the internal reluctance of one 
 who can only be stirred from indolence by novelty. 
 
 " I wonder what made me plague myself about this wench," said 
 
4^8 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 he, ''and doom myself to encounter all the hysterical rhapsodies 
 of a country Phillis, with her head stuffed with her grandmother's 
 lessons about virtue and the Bible-book, when the finest and best- 
 bred women in town may be had upon more easy terms. It is a 
 pity one cannot mount the victor's car of triumph without having a 
 victory to boast of ; yet, faith, it is what most of our modern gallants 
 do, though it would not become Buckingham. — Well, I must see 
 her," he concluded, '' though it were but to rid the house of 
 her. The Portsmouth will not hear of her being set at liberty near 
 Charles, so much is she afraid of a new fair seducing the old 
 sinner from his allegiance. So how the girl is to be disposed of 
 — for I shall have little fancy to keep her here, and she is too 
 wealthy to be sent down to Cliefden as a housekeeper — is a mailer 
 to be thought on." 
 
 He then called for such a dress as might set off his natural good 
 mien — a compliment which he considered as due to his own merit ^ 
 for as to any thing farther^ he went to pay his respects to his fair 
 prisoner with almost as little zeal in the cause, as a gallant to fight 
 a duel in which he has no warmer interest than the maintenance 
 of his reputation as a man of honour. 
 
 The set of apartments consecrated to the use of those favourites 
 who occasionally make Buckingham's mansion their place of 
 abode, and who were, so far as liberty was concerned, often re- 
 quired to observe the regulations of a convent, were separated 
 from the rest of the Duke's extensive mansion. He lived in the 
 age when what was called gallantry warranted the most atrocious 
 actions of deceit and violence ^ as may be best illustrated by the 
 catastrophe of an unfortunate actress, whose beauty atlracted the 
 attention of the last De Vere, Earl of Oxford. While her virtue 
 defied his seductions, he ruined her under colour of a mock mar- 
 riage, and was rewarded for a success which occasioned the death 
 of his victim, by the general applause of the men of wit and 
 gallantry who filled the drawing-room of Charles. 
 
 Buckingham had made provision in the interior of his ducal 
 mansion for exploits of a similar nature ^ and the set of apartments 
 which he now visited were alternately used to confine the reluctant, 
 and to accommodate the willing. 
 
 Being now destined for the former purpose, the key was delivered 
 to the duke by a hooded and spectacled old lady, who sat reading a 
 devout book in the outer hall which divided these apartments (usually 
 called the Nunnery) from the rest of the house. This experienced 
 dowager acted as mistress of the ceremonies on such occasions, and 
 was the trusty depositary of more intrigues than were known to 
 any dozen of her worshipful calling besides. 
 
 " As sweet a linnet," she said, as she undid the outward door, 
 "as ever sung in a cage." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 420 
 
 "I was afraid she might have been more for moping than for 
 singing, Dowlas," said Ihe Duke. 
 
 "Till yeslerday she was so, please your Grace," answered 
 Dowlas 5 " or to speak sooth, till early this morning, we heard of 
 nothing but Lachrymse. But the air of your noble Grace's house 
 is favourable to singing-birds-, and to-day matters have been amuch 
 mended." 
 
 "'Tis sudden, dame," said the Duke; "and 'lis something 
 strange, considering that I have never visited her, that the pretty 
 trembler should have been so soon reconciled to her fate." 
 
 " Ah, your Grace has such magic, that it communijcales itself to 
 your very walls 5 as wholesome scripture says^ Exodus, first and 
 seventh, ' It cleaveth to the wall and the door-posts.' " 
 
 " You are too partial. Dame Dowlas," said the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham. 
 
 " Not a word but truth," said the dame; " and I wish I may be 
 an outcast from the fold of the lambs, but I think this damsel's very- 
 frame has changed since she was under your Grace's roof. Me- 
 thinks she hath a lighter form, a finer step, a more displayed ankle — 
 I cannot tell, but I think there is a change. But, lack-a-day, your 
 Grace knows I am as old as I am trusty, and that my eyes wax 
 something uncertain." 
 
 "Especially when you wash them with a cup of canary. Dame 
 Dowlas," answered the Duke, who was aware that temperance was 
 not amongst the cardinal virtues which were most familiar to the old 
 lady's practice. 
 
 " Was it canary, your Grace said? — Was it indeed with canary, 
 that your Grace should have supposed me to have washed my 
 eyes?" said the offended matron. " I am sorry that your Grace 
 should know me no better." 
 
 "I crave your pardon, dame," said the Duke, shaking aside, 
 fastidiously, the grasp which, in the earnestness of her exculpation. 
 Madam Dowlas had clutched upon his sleeve. "I crave your 
 pardon. Your nearer approach has convinced me of my erroneous 
 imputation — I should have said nantz, not canary." 
 
 So saying, he walked forward into the inner apartments, which 
 were fitted up with an air of voluptuous magnificence. 
 
 " The dame said true, however,*' said the proud deviser and 
 proprietor of the splendid mansion — " A country Phillis might well 
 reconcile herself to such a prison as this, even without a skilful 
 bird-fancier to touch a bird-call. But I wonder where she can be^ 
 this rural Phidele. Is it possible she can have retreated, like a 
 despairing commandant, into her bedchamber, the very citadel of 
 the place, without even an attempt to defend the outworks?" 
 
 As he made this reflection, he passed through an antechamber 
 
430 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 and little eating-parlour, exquisitely furnished, and hung with ex- 
 cellent paintings of the Venetian school. 
 
 Beyond these lay a withdrawing-room, fitted up in a style of still 
 more studied elegance. The windows were darkened with painted 
 glass, of such a deep and rich colour, as made the midday beams, 
 which found their way into the apartment, imitate the rich colours 
 of sunset; and, in the celebrated expression of the poet, " taught 
 light to counterfeit a gloom." 
 
 Buckingham's feelings and taste had been too much, and too 
 often, and too readily gratified, to permit him, in the general case, 
 to be easily accessible, even to those pleasures which it had been 
 the business of his life to pursue. The hackneyed voluptuary is 
 like the jaded epicure, the mere listlessness of whose appetite be- 
 comes at length a sufficient penalty for having made it the principal 
 object of his enjoyment and cultivation. Yet novelty has always 
 some charms, and uncertainty has more. 
 
 The doubt how he was to be received — the change of mood 
 which his prisoner was said to have evinced — the curiosity to know 
 how such a creature as Alice Bridgenorth had been described, was 
 likely to bear herself under the circumstances in which she was so 
 unexpectedly placed, had upon Buckingham the effect of exciting 
 unusual interest. On his own part, he had none of those feelings 
 of anxiety with which a man, even of the most vulgar mind, comes 
 lo the presence of the female whom he wishes to please, far less the 
 more refined sentiments of love, respect, desire, and awe, with 
 which the more refined lover approaches the beloved object. He 
 had been, to use an expressive French phrase, too completely 
 blase esen from his earliest youth, to permit him now to experience 
 the animal eagerness of the one, far less the more sentimental 
 pleasure of the other. It is no small aggravation of this jaded and 
 uncomfortable slate of mind, that the voluptuary cannot renounce 
 the pursuits with which he is satiated, but must continue, for his 
 character's sake, or from the mere force of habit, to take all the toil, 
 fatigue, and danger of the chase, while he has so little real interest 
 in the termination. 
 
 Buckingham, therefore, felt it due to his reputation as a suc- 
 cessful hero of intrigue, to pay his addresses to Alice Bridgenorth 
 with dissembled eagerness; and, as he opened the door of the inner 
 apartment, he paused to consider, whether the tone of gallantry, 
 or that of passion, was fittest lo use on the occasion. This delay 
 enabled him to hear a few notes of a lute, touched with exquisite 
 skill, and accompanied by the still sweeter strains of a female voice, 
 which without executing any complete melody, seemed to sport 
 itself in rivalship of the silver sound of the instrument. 
 
 '' A creature so well educated," said the Duke, " with the sense 
 she is said to possess, would, rustic as she is, laugh at the assumed 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 431 
 
 rants of Oroondales. It is the vein of Doriinont — once, Buckingham, 
 thine own — that must here do the feat, besides that the part is 
 easier." 
 
 So thinking, he entered the room with that easy grace which 
 characterised the gay courtiers among whom he flourished, and 
 approached the fair tenant, whom he found seated near a table 
 covered wilh books and music, and having on her left hand the 
 large half- open casement, dim with stained glass, admitting only 
 a doubtful light into this lordly reliring-room, which, hung wilh 
 the richest tapestry of Ihe Gobelines, and ornamented with piles 
 of china and splendid mirrors, seemed like a bower built for a prince 
 to receive his bride. 
 
 The splendid dress of the inmate corresponded with the taste of 
 the apartment which she occupied, and partook of the Oriental 
 costume which the much-admired Roxalana had then brought into 
 fashion. A slender foot and ankle, which escaped from the wide 
 trowser of richly ornamented and embroidered blue satin, was the 
 only pari of her person distinctly seen ^ the rest was enveloped, from 
 head to foot, in a long veil of silver gauze, which, like a feathery 
 and light mist on a beautiful landscape, suffered you to perceive 
 that what it concealed was rarely lovely, yet induced the imagina- 
 tion even to enhance the charms it shaded. Such part of the dress 
 as could be discovered, was, like the veil and the Irowsers, in the 
 Oriental taste; a rich turban, and splendid caftan, were ralher 
 indicated than distinguished through the folds of the former. The 
 whole attire argued at least coquetry on the part of a fair one, who 
 must have expected, from her situation, a visitor of some preten- 
 sion 5 and induced Buckingham to smile internally at Christian's 
 account of the extreme simplicity and purity of his niece. 
 
 He approached the lady en cavalier, and addressed her with the 
 air of being conscious, while he acknowledged his offences, that 
 his condescending to do so formed a sufficient apology for them. 
 '' Fair Mistress Alice," he said, " I am sensible how deeply I ought 
 to sue for pardon for the mistaken zeal of my servants, who, seeing 
 you deserted and exposed without protection during an unlucky 
 affray, took it upon them to bring you under the roof of one who 
 would expose his life rather than suffer you to sustain a moment's 
 anxiety. Was it my fault that those around me should have judged 
 it necessary lo interfere for your preservation \ or that aware of the 
 interest I must take in you, they have detained you till I could 
 myself, in personal attendance, receive your commands?" 
 
 "That attendance has not been speedily rendered, my lord," 
 answered the lady. -'I have been a prisoner for two days-— neg- 
 lected, and left to the charge of menials." 
 
 "• How say you, lady? — Neglected I ' exclaimed the Duke. "By 
 
432 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Heaven, if the best in my household has failed in his duly, I will 
 discard him on the instant!" 
 
 " I complain of no lack of courtesy from your servants, my lord," 
 she replied; "but methinks it had been but complaisant in the 
 Duke himself to explain to me earlier wherefore he has had the 
 boldness to detain me as a state prisoner." 
 
 '' And can the divine Alice doubt," said Buckingham, " that, had 
 time and space, those cruel enemies to the flight of passion, given 
 permission, the instant in which you crossed your vassal's threshold 
 had seen its devoted master at your feel, who hath thought, since 
 Tie saw you, of nothing but the charms which that fatal morning 
 placed before him at Chiffinch's?" 
 
 " I understand, then, my lord," said the lady, " that you have 
 been absent, and have had no part in the restraint which has been 
 exercised upon me ? " 
 
 "Absent on the King's command, lady, and employed in the 
 discharge of his duly," answered Buckingham, without hesitation. 
 "What could I do?— The moment you left Chiffinch's, his Ma- 
 jesty commanded me to the saddle in such haste, that I had no 
 time to change my satin buskins for riding-boots ' . If my absence 
 has occasioned you a moment of inconvenience, blame the incon- 
 siderate zeal of those, who, seeing me depart from London , half 
 distracted at my separation from you, were willing to contribute 
 their unmannered, though well-meant exertions, to preserve Iheir 
 master from despair, by retaining the fair Alice within his reach. 
 To whom, indeed, could they have restored you? He whom you 
 selected as your champion is in prison, or fled — your father absent 
 from town— your uncle in the north. To Chiffinch's house you 
 had expressed your well-founded aversion ; and what filter asylum 
 remained than that of your devoted slave, where you must ever 
 reign a queen ? " 
 
 " An imprisoned one," said the lady. " I desire not such 
 royalty." 
 
 "Alas! how wilfully you misconstrue me!" said the Duke, 
 kneeling on one knee ; " and what right can you have lo complain 
 of a few hours' gentle restrain I— you, who destine so many to hope- 
 less captivity ! Be merciful for once, and withdraw that envious 
 veil \ for the divinities are ever most cruel when they deliver their 
 oracles from such clouded recesses. Suffer at least my rash 
 hand" 
 
 " I will save your Grace that unworthy trouble," said the lady, 
 haughtily ) and rising up, she flung back over her shoulders the 
 
 • This case is not without precedent. Among the jealousies and fears expressed by 
 the Long Parliament, they insisted much upon an agent for the King departing for the 
 continent so abruptly, that he had not time to change his court dress— white buskins, lo 
 wit, and black silk pantaloons— for an equipment more suitable to (ravel with. 
 
PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. 433 
 
 veil which shrouded her, spying, al Ihe same time, '' Look on me, 
 my Lord Duke, and see if these be indeed the charms which have 
 made on your Grace an impression so powerful." 
 
 Buckingham did look •, and the effect produced on him by surprise 
 was so strong, that he rose hastily from his knee, and remained for 
 a few seconds as if he had been petrified. The figure tiiat stood 
 before him had neither the height nor the rich shape of Alice Bridge- 
 north ; and, though perfectly well made, was so slightly formed, 
 as to seem almost infantine. Her dress was three or four short 
 vests of embroidered satin, disposed one over the other, of different 
 colours, or rather different shades of similar colours •, for strong 
 contrast was carefully avoided. These opened in front, so as to 
 show part of the throat and neck, partially obscured by an inner 
 covering of the finest lace ^ over the uppermost vest was worn a 
 sort of mantle, or coat of rich fur. A small but magnificent turban 
 wass carelessly placed on her head, from under which flowed a pro- 
 fusion of coal-black tresses, which Cleopatra might have envied. 
 The taste and splendour of the Eastern dress corresponded with 
 the complexion of the lady's face, which was brunette, of a shade so 
 dark as might almost have served an Indian. 
 
 Amidst a set of features, in which rapid and keen expression 
 made amends for the want of regular beauty, the essential points 
 of eyes as bright as diamonds, and tectti as while as pearls, did not 
 escape the Duke of Buckingham, a professed connoisseur in female 
 charms. In a word, tlie fanciful and singular female who thus 
 unexpectedly produced herself before him, had one of those faces 
 which are never seen without making an impression ; which, when 
 removed, are long after remembered ; and for which, in our idle- 
 ness, we are tempted to invent a hundred histories, that we may 
 please our fancy by supposing the features under the influence of 
 difi'erent kinds of emotion. Every one must have in recollection 
 countenances of this kind, which, from a captivating and stimu- 
 lating originality of expression, abide longer in the memory, and 
 are more seductive to the imagination, than even regular beauty. 
 
 " My Lord Duke," said the lady, " it seems the lifting of my 
 veil has done the work of magic upon your Grace. Alas, for the 
 captive princess, whose nod was to command a vassal so costly ! 
 she runs, melhinks, no slight chance of being turned out of doors, 
 like a second Cinderella, to seek her fortune among lackeys and 
 lightermen," 
 
 " I am astonished I " said the Duke. ^' That villain, Jerningham 
 — I will have the scoundrel's blood." 
 
 ''Nay, never abuse Jerningham for the matter," said the Un- 
 known^ ^'but lament your own unhappy engagements. While 
 you, my lord Duke, were posting northward, in white satin bus- 
 kins, to toil in the King's affairs, the right and lawful princess sat 
 
 28 
 
434 PEVERiL OF TFIE PEAK. 
 
 weeping in sables in Ihe uncheered solitude to whicii your absence 
 condemned her. Two days slie was disconsolate in vain ,- on the 
 third came an African enchantress to change the scene for her, 
 and the person for your Grace. Methinks, my lord, this adventure 
 will tell but ill, when some faithful squire shall recount or record 
 Ihe gallant adventures of the second Duke of Buckingham." 
 
 " Fairly bit, and banlered to boot," said the Duke — " the 
 monkey has a turn for satire, too, by all that is piquante, — Hark 
 ye, fair princess, how dared you adventure on such a trick as you 
 have been accomplice to? " 
 
 " Dare, my lord I " answered the stranger ; " put the question 
 to others, not to one who fears nothing." 
 
 " By my faith, I believe so • for thy front is bronzed by nature. 
 — Hark ye once more, mis tress —What is your name and con- 
 dition?" 
 
 "My condition I have told you. — I ama Mauritanian sorceress 
 by profession, and my name is Zara," replied the Eastern maiden. 
 
 '' But methinks that face, shape, and eyes" — said the Duke, — 
 '' when didst thou pass for a dancing fairy ? — Some such imp thou 
 wert, not many days since." 
 
 " My sister you may have seen — my twin sister ; but not me, my 
 lord," answered Zarah. 
 
 " Indeed," said the Duke, " that duplicate of thine, if it was not 
 thy very self, was possessed with a dumb spirit as thou with a 
 talking one. I am still in the mind that you are the same -, and 
 that Satan, always so powerful with your sex^ had art enough, on 
 our former meeting, lo make thee hold (hy tongue." 
 
 "Believe what you will of it, my lord," replied Zarah, "it 
 cannot change the truth. — And now, my lord, I bid you farewell. 
 Have you any commands to Mauritania ? " 
 
 " Tarry a little, my princess," said the Duke •, " and remember, 
 that you have voluntarily entered yourself as pledge for another; 
 and are justly subjected to any penalty which it is my pleasure to 
 exact. None must brave Buckingham with impunity." 
 
 " I am in no hurry to depart, if your Grace hath any commands 
 for me." 
 
 "What! are you neither afraid of my resentment, nor of my 
 love, fair Zarah?" said the Duke. 
 
 " Of neither, by this glove," answered the lady. "Your resent- 
 ment must be a petty passion indeed, if it could stoop to such a 
 helpless object as I am ; and for your love — good lack ! good lack I " 
 
 " And why good lack, with such a tone of contempt, lady? " said 
 the Duke, piqued in spite of himself. " Think you Buckingham 
 cannot love, or has never been beloved in return?" 
 
 " He may have thought himself beloved," said the maiden ; " but 
 by what slight creatures! things whose heads could be rendered 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 435 
 
 giddy by a playhouse rani — whose brains were only filled with red- 
 heeled shoes and satin buskins — and who run altogether mad on 
 the argument of a George and star." 
 
 '' And are there no such frail fair ones in your climate, most 
 scornful princess? " said the Duke. 
 
 " There are/' said the lady ; " but men rate them as parrots and 
 monkeys — things without either sense or soul, head or heart. The 
 nearness we bear to the sun has purified, while it strengthens, our 
 passions. The icicles of your frozen climate shall as soon hammer 
 hot bars into ploughshares, as shall the foppery and folly of your 
 pretended gallantry make an instant's impression on a breast like 
 mine." 
 
 " You speak like one who knows what passion is," said the Duke. 
 '* Sit down, fair lady, and grieve not that I detain you. Who can 
 consent to part with a tongue of so much melody, or an eye of 
 such expressive eloquence! — You have known, then, what it is to 
 love?" >g 
 
 " I know — no matter if by experience, or through the report df. 
 others — but I do know, that to love as I would love, would be f6 
 yield not an iota to avarice, not one inch to vanity, not to sacrifice 
 the slightest feeling to interest or to ambition •, but to give up all 
 to fidelity of heart and reciprocal affection." 43 mJ '' 
 
 *'And how many women, think you, are capable' of fe^fitt^ 
 such disinterested passion? " 
 
 *' More, by thousands, than there are men who merit it," an- 
 swered Zarah. ''Alas I how often do you see the female pale, and 
 wretched, and degraded, still following with patient constancy the 
 foolsteps of some predominating tyrant, and submitting to all his 
 injustice with the endurance of a faithful and misused spaniel, wlndi 
 prizes a look from his master, though the surliest groom that ever 
 disgraced humanity, more than all the pleasures which the world 
 besides can furnish him? Think what such would, be to one who 
 merited and repaid her devotiouvug hism oi sliJil 00} oiov/ ,t?.9tf3oq 
 
 "Perhaps the very reverse, ■;; said: the Duk^-,: '^;aTid for '5*our 
 simile, I can see little resemblance. I cannot charge my spaniel 
 with any perfidy ; but for my mistrQsses — to confess trutli^ I must 
 always be in a cursed hurry if I would have the cr^^il.pf changing 
 them before they leave me." ".Ylilcdp «ii 161 
 
 "And they serve you but rightly, my lord," answered thelady ; 
 "for what are you?— ,Nay, fro\tn not; for you must hear the (rush 
 for once. Nature has done its parlvand made a fair outside, and 
 courtly education hath added its share. You are noble, it is Ihe 
 accident of birth— handsome, it is Ihp caprice of Nature — generous, 
 because to give is more easy than to refuse — well-apparelled, il is 
 to the credit of vour tailor — well-naJLured in Itie mainybecause you 
 
436 PEVERIL or THE PEAK. 
 
 have youth and health — brave, because to be otherwise were to be 
 degraded — and witty, because you cannot help it." 
 
 The Duke darted a glance on one of the large mirrors. *' Noble 
 and handsome, and court-like, generous, well-attired, good-hu- 
 moured, brave, and witty ! — You allow me more, madam, than I 
 have the slightest pretension to, and surely enough to make my 
 way, at some point at least, to female fcivour." 
 
 " I have neither allowed you a heart nor a head," said Zarah, 
 calmly. — " Nay, never redden as if you would fly at me. I say not 
 but nature may have given you both^ but folly has confounded the 
 one, and selfishness perverted the other. The man whom I call 
 deserving the name, is one whose thoughts and exertions are for 
 others, rather than himself, — whose high purpose is adopted on 
 just principles, and never abandoned while heaven or earth affords 
 means of accomplishing it. He is one who will neither seek an 
 indirect advantage by a specious road, nor lake an evil path to 
 gain a real good purpose. Such a man were one for whom a 
 woman's heart should beat constant while he breathes, and break 
 when he dies." 
 
 She spoke with so mucli energy that the water sparkled in her 
 eyes, and her cheek coloured with the vehemence of her feelings. 
 
 ''You speak," said the Duke, ''as if you had yourself a heart 
 which could pay the full tribute to the merit which you describe so 
 warmly." 
 
 "And have I not?" she said, laying her hand on her bosom. 
 '' Here beats one that would bear me out in what I have said, whe- 
 ther in life or in death ? " 
 
 *r;" Were it in my power," said the Duke, who began to get far- 
 ther interested in his visitor than he could at first have thought 
 possible — "Were it in my power to deserve such faithful attach- 
 ment, methinksit should be my care to requite it." 
 
 "Your wealth, your titles, your reputation as a gallant— all you 
 possess, were too little to merit such sincere aiTection." 
 
 "Come, fair lady," said the Duke, a good deal piqued, " do not 
 be quite so disdainful. Bethink you, that if your love be as pure 
 as coined gold, still a poor fellow like myself may olfer you an 
 equivalent in silver — The quantity of my affection must make up 
 for its quality." 
 
 " But I am not carrying my affection to market, my lord^ and 
 therefore I need none of the base <?bin you offer in change for it." 
 
 " How do I know that, my fairest?" said the Duke. "This 
 is the realm of Paphos — You have invaded it, with what purpose 
 you best know •, but I think with none consistent with your present 
 assumption of cruelty. Come, come — eyes that are so intelligent 
 can laugh with delight, as well as gleam with scorn and anger. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 437 
 
 You are here a waif on Cupid's manor, and I must seize on you in 
 nameof thedeily." 
 
 ^^Do not think of touching me, my lord," said the lady. ''Ap- 
 proach me not, if you would hope to learn the purpose of my 
 being here. Your Grace may suppose yourself a Solomon if you 
 please ; but I am no travelling princess, come from distant climes, 
 either to flatter your pride, or wonder at your glory." 
 
 ''A defiance by Jupiter I " said the Duke. 
 
 ''You mistake the signal," said the 'dark ladye;' "I came 
 not here without taking sufficient precautions for my retreat." 
 
 "You mouth it bravely," said the Duke; "but never fortress 
 so boasted its resources but the garrison had some thoughts of 
 surrender. Thus I open the first parallel." 
 
 They had been hitherto divided from each other by a long nar- 
 row table, which, placed in the recess of the large casement we 
 have mentioned, had formed a sort of barrier on the lady's side, 
 against the adventurous gallant. The Duke went hastily to remove 
 it as he spoke \ but, attentive to all his motions, his visitor instantly 
 darted through the half-open window. 
 
 Buckingham uttered a cry of horror and surprise, having no 
 doubt, at first, that she had precipitated herself from a height of 
 at least fourteen feet; for so far the window was distant from the 
 ground. But when he sprung to the spot, he perceived, to his 
 astonishment, that she had effected her descent with equal agihty 
 and safety. 
 
 The outside of this stalely mansion was decorated with a quantity 
 of carving, in the mixed state, betwixt the Gothic and Grecian 
 styles, which marks the age of Elizabeth and her successor ; and 
 though the feat seemed a surprising one, the projections of these 
 ornaments were sufficient to afford footing to a creature so light 
 and active, even in her hasty descent. 
 
 Inflamed alike by mortification and curiosity, Buckingham at 
 first entertained some thought of following her by the same dan- 
 gerous route, and had actually got upon the sill of the window for 
 that purpose ^ and was contemplating what might be his next safe 
 movement, when, from a neighbouring thicket of shrubs, amongst 
 which his visitor had disappeared, he heard her chant a verse of 
 a comic song, then much in fashion, concerning a despairing lover 
 who had recourse to a precipice — 
 
 •• But when he carae near, 
 
 Beholding how steep 
 The sides did appear, 
 
 And the bottom how deep; 
 Though his suit was rejected. 
 He sadly reflected, 
 
438 PEVEUIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Thai a lover forsaken 
 
 A new love may gelj 
 But a neck that's once broken 
 
 Can never be set." 
 
 The Duke could not help laughing, though much against his 
 will, at the resemblance which the verses bore to his own absurd 
 situation, and, stepping back into the apartment, desisted from an 
 attempt which might have proved dangerous as well as ridiculous. 
 He called his attendants, and contented himself with watching the 
 little thicket, unwilling to think that a female, who had thrown 
 herself in a great measure into his way, meant absolutely to mortify 
 him by a retreat. 
 
 That question was determined in an instant. A form, wrapped 
 in a mantle, with a slouched hat and shadowy plume, issued from 
 the bushes, and was lost in a moment amongst the ruins of ancient 
 and of modern buildings, with which, as we have already staled, 
 the demesne formerly termed York House was now encumbered 
 in all directions. 
 
 The Duke's servants, who had obeyed his impatient summons, 
 were hastily directed to search for this tantalizing siren in every 
 direction. Their master, in the meantime, eager and vehement in 
 every new pursuit, but especially when his vanity was piqued, en- 
 couraged their diligence by bribes, and threats, and commands. 
 Ail was in vain. — They found nothing of the Mauritanian Princess, 
 as she called herself, but the turban and the veil 5 both of which 
 she had left in the thicket, together with her satin slippers, which 
 articles, doubtless, she had thrown aside as she exchanged them 
 for others less remarkable. 
 
 Finding all his search in vain, the Duke of Buckingham, after 
 the example of spoiled children of all ages and stations, gave a 
 loose to the frantic vehemence of passion ; and fiercely he swore 
 vengeance on his late visitor, whom he termed by a thousand 
 opprobrious epithets, of which the elegant phrase "Jill" was most 
 frequently repeated. 
 
 Even Jerningham, who knew the depths and shallows of his 
 master's mood, and was bold to fathom them at almost every stale 
 of his passions, kept out of his way on the present occasion •, and, 
 cabineted with the pious old housekeeper, declared to her, over 
 a bottle of ratafia, that, in his apprehension, if his Grace did no( 
 learn to put some control on his temper, chains, darkness, straw, 
 and Bedlam, would be the final doom of the gifted and admired 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 
PEVKRIL OF THE PKAK. 439 
 
 CHAPTER XL, 
 
 — ContcnlioBS fierce. 
 Ardent, and dire, spring from no peliy cause. 
 
 Albion. 
 
 The quarrels between man and wife are proverbial-, but lei not 
 these honest folks think that connexions of a less permanent na- 
 ture are free from similar jars. The frolic of the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, and the subsequent escape of Alice Bridgenorth, had 
 kindled fierce dissension in Chiffinch's family, when, on his ar- 
 rival in town, he learned these two stunning events: ''I tell 
 you," he said to his obliging helpmate, who seemed but little 
 moved by all that he could say on the subject, ''that your d—d 
 carelessness has ruined the work of years." 
 
 "• I think it is the twentieth time you have said so," replied the 
 dame ; " and without such frequent assurance, I was quite ready 
 to believe that a very trifling matter would overset any scheme of 
 yours, however long thought of." 
 
 '' How on earlh could you have the folly to let the Duke into the 
 house when you expected the King?" said the irrilated courtier. 
 
 " Lord, Chiffinch," answered the lady, " ought not you to ask 
 Che porter, rather than me, that sort of question ? — I was putting 
 on my cap to receive his Majesty." 
 
 " With Ihe address of a madge-howlet," said Chiffinch, '' and in 
 the meanwhile you gave the cat the cream to keep." 
 
 " Indeed, Chiffinch," said the lady, " these jaunis to the coun- 
 try do render you excessively vulgar I there is a brutality about your 
 very boots I nay, your musHn ruffles, being somewhat soiled, give 
 to your knuckles a sort of rural rusticity, as 1 may call it." 
 
 " It were a good deed," muttered Chiffinch, '' to make both 
 bools and knuckles bang the folly and afTeclation out of thee." Then 
 speaking aloud, he added, like a man who would fain break off an 
 argument, by extorting from his adversary a confession that he has 
 reason on his side, "lam sure, Kate, you must be sensible that 
 our all depends on his Majesty's pleasure." 
 
 "Leave that to me," said she ^ " I know how to pleasure his 
 Majesty belter than you can teach me. Do you think his Majesty 
 is booby enough to cry fike a school-boy because his sparrow has 
 llown away? His Majesty has better taste. I am surprised at you, 
 Chiffinch," she added, drawing herself up, " who were once thought 
 to know the points of a fine woman, that you should have made 
 such a roaring about this country w cnch . Why, she has not even the 
 country quality of being plump as a barn-door fowl, but is more 
 
440 PEVERIL or THE PEAR. 
 
 like a Dunslable lark, Ihal one must crack bones and all if you 
 would make a mouthful of it. What signifies whence she came, or 
 where she goes? There will be those behind that are much more 
 worthy of his Majesty's condescending attention, even when the 
 Duchess of Portsmouth takes the frumps." 
 
 " You mean your neighbour, Mistress Nelly," said her worthy 
 helpmate ^ '' but, Kate, her dale is out. Wit she has, let her keep 
 herself warm with it in worse company, for the cant of .a gang of 
 strollers is not language for a prince's chamber'." 
 
 " It is no matter what I mean, or whom I mean," said Mrs. 
 Chiffinch ; *' but 1 tell you, Tom Chiffinch, that you will find your 
 master quite consoled for loss of the piece of prudish puritanism 
 that you would needs saddle him with ; as if the good man were not 
 plagued enough with them in Parliament, but you must, forsooth, 
 bring them into his very bedchamber." 
 
 " Well, Kate," said Chiffinch, " if a man were to speak all the 
 sense of the seven wise masters, a woman would find nonsense 
 enough to overwhelm him with 5 so I shall say no more, but that I 
 would to Heaven I may find the King in no worse humour than you 
 describe him. I am commanded to attend him down the river to 
 the Tower to-day, where he is to make some survey of arms and 
 stores. They are clever fellows who contrive to keep Rowley from 
 engaging in business, for, by my word, he has a turn for it." 
 
 " I warrant you," said Chiffinch the female, nodding, but rather 
 to her own figure reflected from mirror, than to her politic hus- 
 band, — " I warrant you we will find means of occupying him that 
 will sufficienlly fill up his lime." 
 
 " On my honour, Kate," said the male Chiffinch, " I find you 
 strangely altered, and, to speak truth, grown most extremely opi- 
 nionative. I shall be happy if you have good reason for your con- 
 fidence." 
 
 The dame smiled superciliously, but deigned no other answer, 
 unless this were one, — " I shall order a boat to go upon the Thames 
 lo-day with the royal parly." 
 
 " Take care what you do, Kate ^ there are none dare presume so 
 far but women of the first rank. Duchess of Bolton — of Buck- 
 ingham—of" . 
 
 " Who cares for a list of names? why may not I be as forward 
 as the greatest B. amongst your string of them?" 
 
 " Nay, faith, Ujou niayst match the greatest B. in Court already," 
 answered Chiffinch^ " so e'en take thy own course of it. But do 
 
 • Jn Evelyn's Memoirs is the following curious passage respecting Nell Gwyn, who is 
 hinted at in the text :— " I walked with him (King Charles II.) through Saint James Park 
 to the garden, where 1 both saw and heard a very familiar discourse between.... (fftc 
 Kitifj) and Mrs. Nelly, as they called her, an intimate comedian, she looking out of her 
 garden on a terrace at the top of the wall, and {the King) standing on the green walk 
 under it. I was heartily sorry at this scene.''— Evelyn's Memoirs, vol. 5. p. 413. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK* 441 
 
 not let Chaubert forget to get some collation ready, and a soupet 
 au petit convert, in case it should be commanded for the evening." 
 
 " Ay, Ihere your boasted knowledge of Court matters begins and 
 ends. — Chiffinch, Chaubert, and Company; — dissolve that part- 
 nership, and you break Tom Chiffinch for a courtier." 
 
 " Amen, Kate," replied Chiffinch ; " and let me tell yoUj it is 
 as safe to rely on another person's fingers as on our own wit. But 
 I must give orders for the water. — If you will take the pinnace, 
 there are the cloth-of-gold cushions in the chapel may serve to 
 cover the benches for the day. They are never wanted where they 
 lie, so you may make free with them too." 
 
 Madam Chiffinch accordingly mingled with the flotilla which 
 attended the King on his voyage down the Thames, amongst whom 
 was the Queen, attended by some of the principal ladies of the 
 Court. The lillle plump Cleopatra, dressed to as much advantage 
 as her taste could devise, and seated upon her embroidered cushions 
 like Venus in her shell, neglected nothing that effrontery and minau- 
 derie could perform to draw upon herself some portion of the King's 
 observation ; but Charles was not in the vein, and did not even pay 
 her the slightest passing attention of any kind, until her boatmen, 
 having ventured to approach nearer to the Queen's barge than 
 etiquette permitted, received a peremptory order to back their oars, 
 and fall out of the royal procession. Madam Chiffinch cried for 
 spite, and transgressed Solomon's warning, by cursing the King in 
 her heart ; but had no better course than to return to Westminster, 
 and direct Chaubert's preparations for the evening. 
 
 In the meantime, the royal barge paused at the Tower; and, 
 accompanied by a laughing train of ladies and of courtiers, the gay 
 Monarch made the echoes of the old prison-towers ring with the 
 unwonted sounds of mirth and revelry. As they ascended from the 
 river side to the centre of the building, where the fine old Keep of 
 William the Conqueror, called the White Tower, predominates 
 over the exterior defences. Heaven only knows how many gallant 
 jests, good or bad, were run on the comparison of his Majesty's 
 state-prison to that of Cupid, and what killing similes were drawn 
 between the ladies' eyes and the guns of the fortress, which, spoken 
 with a fashionable congee, and listened to with a smile from a fair 
 lady, formed the fine conversation of the day. 
 
 This gay swarm of flutterers did not, however, attend close on 
 the King's person, though they had accompanied him upon his 
 party on the river. Charles, who often formed manly and sensible 
 resolutions, though he was too easily diverted from them by indo- 
 lence or pleasure, had some desire to make himself personally ac- 
 quainted with the state of the military stores, arms, etc., of which 
 the Tower was then, as now, the magazine; and although he had 
 brought with him the usual number of his courtiers, only three or 
 
44*2 , PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 four attended him on the scrutiny which he intended. Whilst, 
 tlicrefore, the rest of the train amused themselves as they might in 
 other parts of the Tower, the Ring, accompanied by the Dulles of 
 Buckingham, Ormond, and one or two others, walked through the 
 well-known hall, in which is preserved the most splendid maga- 
 zine of arms in the world, and which, though far from exhibiting 
 ils present extraordinary stale of perfection, was even then an arse- 
 nal worthy of the great nation to which it belonged. 
 
 The Duke of Ormond, well known for his services during the 
 €real Civil War, was, as we have elsewhere noticed, at present 
 ralher on cold terms wilh his Sovereign, who nevertheless asked 
 his advice on many occasions, and who required it on the present 
 amongst others, when it was not a little feared, that the Parliament, 
 in their zeal for the Proleslant religion, might desire lo take the 
 magazines of arms and ammunition under Iheir own exclusive or- 
 ders. While Charles sadly hinted at such a termination of the 
 popular jealousies of the period, and discussed with Ormond the 
 means of resisting or evading it, Buckingham, falling a liltle behind, 
 amused himself with ridiculing the antiquated appearance and em- 
 barrassed demeanour of the old warder who attended on the occa- 
 sion, and who chanced to be the very same that escorted Julian 
 Peveril to his present place of confinement. The Duke prosecuted 
 his raillery with the greater activity, that he found the old man, 
 though restrained by the place and presence, was rather upon the 
 whole testy, and disposed to afford what sportsmen call play to his 
 persecutor. The various pieces of ancient armour, wilh which the 
 wall was covered, afforded the principal source of the Duke's wit, 
 as he insisted upon knowing from the old man, who, he said, could 
 best remember matters from the days of King Arthur downwards 
 at the least, the history of the different warlike weapons, and anec- 
 dotes of the battles in which they had been wielded. The old man 
 obviously suffered when he was obliged, by repealed questions, to 
 tell the legends (often sufficienlly absurd) which the tradition of 
 the place had assigned to particular relics. Far from flourishing 
 his partisan, and augmenting the emphasis of his voice, as was and 
 is the prevailing fashion of these warlike ciceroni, it was scarcely 
 possible to extort from him a single word concerning those topics 
 on which their information is usually overflowing. 
 
 " Do you know, my friend," said the Duke to him at last, '^ I 
 begin lo change my mind respecting you? I supposed you must 
 have served as a Yeoman of the Guard since bluff King Henry's 
 time, and expected lo hear something from you about the Field of 
 the Cloth of Gold, — and I thought of asking you the colour of Anne 
 Bullen's breaslknol, which cost the Pope three kingdoms ^ but 1 
 am afraid you are but a novice in such recollections of love and 
 chivalry . Art sure Ihou didst not creep into thy warlike office from 
 
PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 44^ 
 
 some 'dark shop in Ihe Tower-Hamlets, and that Ihou hast not con- 
 verted an unlawful measuring-yard into that glorious halberd?—! 
 warrant, thou canst not even tell one whom this piece of antique 
 panoply pertained to ?" 
 
 The Duke pointed at random to a cuirass which hung amongst 
 others, but was rather remarkable from being better cleaned. 
 
 " I should know that piece of iron," said the warder bluntly, yet 
 with some change in his voice ; " for I have known a man within- 
 side of it who would not have endured half the impertinence I have 
 heard spoken to-day." 
 
 The tone of the old man, as well as the words, attracted the 
 attention of Charles and the Duke of Ormond, who were only two 
 steps before the speaker. They both stopped, and turned round ; 
 the former saying at the same time, — " How now, sirrah ! — what 
 answers are these? — What man do you speak of?" 
 
 " Of one who is none now," said the warder, '' whatever he may 
 have been." 
 
 ''The old man surely speaks of himself," said the Duke of Or- 
 mond, closely examining the countenance of the warder, which he 
 in vain endeavoured to turn away. "I am sure I remember these 
 features — Are not you my old friend. Major Coleby?" 
 
 " I wish your Grace's memory had been less accurate," said the 
 old man, colouring deeply, and fixing his eyes on the ground. 
 
 The King was greatly shocked.—" Good God," he said, " the 
 gallant Major Coleby, who joined us with his four sons and a 
 hundred and fifty men at Warrington! — And is this all we could do 
 for an old Worcester friend ?" 
 
 The tears rushed thick into the old man's eyes as he said, in 
 broken accenls. " Never mind me, sir \ I am well enough here — 
 a worn-out soldier rusting among old armour. Where one old 
 cavalier is better, there are twenty worse. — I am sorry your Ma- 
 jesty should know any thing of it, since it grieves you." 
 
 With that kindness, which was a redeeming point of his cha- 
 racter, Charles, while the old man was speaking, took the partisan 
 from him with his own hand, and put it into that of Buckingham, 
 saying, '' What Coleby 's hand has borne, can disgrace neither 
 yours nor mine, — and you owe him this atonement. Time has^ 
 been with him, that, for less provocation, he would have laid it 
 about your ears." 
 
 The duke bowed deeply, but coloured with resentment, and took 
 an immediate opportunity to place the weapon carelessly against a 
 pile of arms. The Ring did not observe a contemptuous motion, 
 which, perhaps, would not have pleased him, being at the moment 
 occupied with the veteran, whom he exhorted to lean upon him, d& 
 he conveyed him to a seat, permitting no other person to assist him. 
 " Rest there," he said, " my brave old friend i and Charles Stewart 
 
444 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 must be poor Indeed if you wear that dress an hour longer. — You 
 look very pale, my good Coleby, to have had so much colour a few 
 minutes since. Be not vexed at what Buckingham says, no one 
 minds his folly.— You look worse and worse. Come, come, you are 
 too much hurried by this meeting. Sit still- — 'do not rise — do not 
 attempt to kneel. I command you to repose yourself till I have 
 made the round of these apartments." 
 
 The old cavalier stooped his head in token of acquiescence in 
 the command of his Sovereign, but he raised it not again. The tu- 
 multuous agitation of the moment had been too much for spirits 
 which had been long in a state of depression, and health which was 
 much decayed. When the Ring and his altendanls, after half an 
 hour's absence, returned to the spot where they had left the vete- 
 ran, they found him dead, and already cold, in the altitude of one 
 who has fallen easily asleep. The King was dreadfully shocked ; 
 and it was with a low and faltering voice that he directed the body, 
 in due lime, to be honourably buried in the Chapel of the Tower'. 
 He was then silent, until he attained the steps in front of the arsenal, 
 where the party in attendance upon his person began to assemble 
 at his approach, along wilh some other persons of respectable ap- 
 pearance, whom curiosity had attracted. 
 
 " This is dreadful," said the Ring. " We must find some means 
 of relieving the distresses, and rewarding the fidelity of our suf- 
 fering followers, or posterity will cry fie upon our memory." 
 
 '' Your Majesty has had often such plans agitated in your Coun- 
 cil," said Buckingham. 
 
 '' True, George," said the Ring. '' I can safely say it is not my 
 fault. I have thought of it for years." 
 
 "It cannot be too well considered," said Buckingham*, "be- 
 sides, every year makes the task of relief easier." 
 
 " True," said theBuke of Ormond, "by diminishing the number 
 of sufferers. Here is poor old Coleby will no longer be a burden to 
 the Crown." 
 
 " You are loo severe, my lord of Ormond," said the Ring, " and 
 should respect the feelings you trespass on. You cannot suppose 
 that we would have permitted Ihis poor man to hold such a situa- 
 tion, had we known of the circumstance I " 
 
 " For God's sake, then, sire," said the Duke of Ormond, " turn 
 your eyes, which have just rested on the corpse of one old friend, 
 upon the distresses of others. Here is the valiant old Sir Geoffrey 
 Peveril of the Peak, who fought through the whole war, wherever 
 blows were going, and was the last man, I believe, in England, 
 who laid down his arms — Here is his son, of whom I have Ihe 
 
 ' A story of this nature is current in the legends of the Tower. The affecting circum- 
 stances are, I believe, recorded in one of the little manuals which are put into the hands 
 of visitors, but art? not to be found in the later editions. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 445 
 
 « 
 
 highest accounts, as a gallant of spirit, accomplishmenis, and cou- 
 rage — Here is the unfortunate House of Derby — for pity's sake, 
 interfere in behalf of these victims, whom the folds of this hydra- 
 plot have entangled, in order to crush them to death — rebuke the 
 fiends that are seeking to devour their lives, and disappoint the 
 harpies that are gaping for their properly. This very day seven- 
 night the unfortunate family, father and son, are to be brought 
 upon trial for crimes of which they are as guiltless, I boldly pro- 
 nounce, as any who stand in this presence. For God's sake, sire, 
 let us hope that, should the prejudices of the people condemn them, 
 as it has done others, you will at last step between the blood-hun- 
 ters and their prey." 
 
 The King looked, as he really was, exceedingly perplexed. 
 
 Buckingham, between whom and Ormond there existed a con- 
 stant and almost mortal quarrel, interfered to effect a diversion in 
 Charles's favour. "Your majesty's royal benevolence," he said, 
 *' needs never want exercise, while the Duke of Ormond is near 
 your person. He has his sleeve cut in the old ample fashion, that 
 he may always have store of ruined cavaliers stowed in it to pro- 
 duce at demand, rare old raw boned boys, with Malmsey noses, 
 bald heads, spindle skanks, and merciless histories of Edgehill 
 and Naseby." 
 
 "My sleeve is, I dare say, of an antique cut," said Ormond, 
 looking full at the Duke ; " but I pin neither bravoes nor ruffians 
 upon it, my Lord of Buckingham, as 1 see fastened to coats of the 
 new mode." 
 
 " That is a little too sharp for our presence, my lord," said the 
 King. 
 
 "Not if I make my words good," said Ormond.- — "My Lord 
 of Buckingham, will you name the man you spoke to as you left 
 the boat?" 
 
 " I spoke to no one," said the Duke, hastily — " nay, I mistake, 
 I remember a fellow whispered in my ear, that one, who I thought 
 had left London, was still lingering in town. A person whom I had 
 business with." 
 
 " Was yon the messenger?" said Ormond, singling out from the 
 crowd who stood in the courtyard, a tall dark-looking man, muffled 
 in a large cloak, wearing a broad shadowy black beaver hat, with 
 a long sword of the Spanish fashion — the very Colonel, in short, 
 whom Buckingham had dispatched in quest of Christian, with the 
 intention of detaining him in the country. 
 
 When Buckingham's eyes had followed the direction of Ormond's 
 finger, he could not help blushing so deeply, as to attract the King's 
 attention \ 
 
 ■ Hote, p. 44S. Colonel Blood. 
 
446 PEVERIL 0¥ THE PEAK. 
 
 " What new frolic is this, George? " he said. " Gentlemen, bring 
 that fellow forward. On my life a truculent-looking caitiff. — Hark 
 ye, friend, who are you? If an honest man. Nature has forgot to 
 label it upon your countenance.— Does none here know him ? 
 
 ' With every symptom of a knave complete, 
 If he be honest, he's a devilish cheat.' " 
 
 *'He is well known to many, sire," replied Ormond*, "and 
 that he walks in this area with his neck safe, and his limbs unshac- 
 kled, is an instance, amongst many, that we live under the sway of 
 the most merciful Prince of Europe." 
 
 " Oddsfish ! who is the man, my Lord Duke ? " said the King. 
 " Your Grace talks mysteries— Buckingham blushes — and the rogue 
 himself is dumb." 
 
 '^ That honest gentleman, please your Majesty," replied the 
 Duke of Ormond, "whose modesty makes him mute, though it 
 cannot make him blush, is the notorious Colonel Blood, as ho 
 calls himself, whose attempt to possess himself of your Majesty's 
 royal crown, took place at no very distant date, in this very Tower 
 of London." 
 
 " That exploit is not easily forgotten," said the King j "but that 
 the fellow lives, shows your Grace's clemency as well as mine." 
 
 "I cannot deny that I was in his hands, sire," said Ormond, 
 " and had certainly been murdered by him, had he chosen to take 
 my life on the spot, instead of destining me— 1 thank him for the 
 honour — to be hanged at Tyburn. I had certainly been sped, if 
 he had thought me worth knife or pistol, or any thing short of the 
 cord. — Look at him, sire ! If the rascal dared, he would say at 
 this moment, like Caliban in the play, ' Ho, ho, I would I had 
 done it.'" 
 
 "Why, oddsfish!" answered the King, "he hath a villainous 
 sneer, my lord, which seems to say as much ^ but, my Lord Duke, 
 we have pardoned him, and so has your Grace." 
 
 "It would ill have become me," said the Duke of Ormond, " to 
 have been severe in prosecuting an attempt on my poor life, when 
 your Majesty was pleased to remit his more outrageous and inso- 
 lent attempt upon your royal crown. But I must conceive it as a 
 piece of supreme insolence on the part of this blood-thirsty bully, 
 by whomsoever he may be now backed, to appear in the Tower, 
 which was the theatre of one of his villainies, or before me, who 
 was wellnigh the victim of another." 
 
 " It shall be amended in future," said the King. — " Hark ye, 
 sirrah Blood, if you again presume to thrust yourself in the way 
 you have done but now, I will have the hangman's knife and your 
 knavish ears made acquainted." 
 
 Blood bowed, and, with a coolness of impudence which did his 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 447 
 
 nerves great honour, he said he had only come to the Tower ac- 
 cidentally^ to communicate with a particular friend on business of 
 importance. ''My Lord Duke of Buckingham," he said, "knew 
 he had no other intentions." 
 
 '' Get you gone, you scoundrelly cut-throat," said the Duke, 
 as much impatient of Colonel Blood's claim of acquaintance as a 
 town-rake of the low and blackguard companions of his midnight 
 rambles, when they accost him in daylight amidst better company -^ 
 "if you dare to quote my name again, I will have you thrown 
 into the Thames." 
 
 Blood, thus repulsed, turned round with the most insolent com- 
 posure, and walked away down from the parade, all men looking 
 at him, as at some strange and monstrous prodigy, so much was 
 he renowned for daring and desperate villainy. Some even followed 
 him, to have a better survey of the notorious Colonel Blood, like 
 the smaller tribe of birds which keep fluttering round an owl when 
 he appears in the Hght of the sun. But as, in the latler case, these 
 thoughtless flutterers are careful to keep out of reach of the beak 
 and claws of the bird of Minerva, so none of those who followed 
 and gazed on Blood as something ominous, cared to bandy looks 
 with him, or to endure and return the lowering and deadly glances 
 whicli he shot from lime to lime on those who pressed nearest to 
 him. He stalked on in this manner, like a daunted, yet sullen wolf, 
 afraid to slop, yet unwilling to fly, until he reached the Traitor's 
 gate, and getting on board a sculler which waited for him, he dis- 
 appeared from their eyes. 
 
 Charles would fain have obliterated all recollection of his ap- 
 pearance, by the observation, " It were shame that such a repro- 
 bate scoundrel should be the subject of discord between two noble- 
 men of distinction •, " and he recommended to the Dukes of 
 Buckingham and Ormond to join hands, and forget a misunder- 
 standing which rose on so unworthy a subject. 
 
 Buckingham answered carelessly, " That the Duke of Ormond's 
 honoured white hairs were a sufficient apology for his making the 
 first overtures to a reconciliation," and he held out his hand ac- 
 cordingly. But Ormond only bowed in return, and said, " The 
 King had no cause to expect that the Court would be disturbed 
 by his personal resentments, since lime would not yield him back 
 twenty years, nor the grave restore his gallant son Ossory. As 
 to the ruffian who had intruded himself there, he was obliged (o 
 him, since, by showing that his Majesty's clemency extended even 
 to the very worst of criminals, he strengthened his hopes of obtain- 
 ing the King's favour for such of his innocent friends as were now 
 in prison, and in danger, from the odious charges brought against 
 them on the score of the Popish Plot." 
 
 The King made no other answer to this insinuation than by di- 
 
448 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 reeling that the company should embark for their return to While- 
 hall ^ and thus look leave of the officers of the Tower who were 
 in attendance, with one of those well-turned compliments to (heir 
 discharge of duly, which no man knew better how to express ; and 
 issued at Ihe same time strict and anxious orders for protection and 
 defence of the important fortress confided lo them, and all which 
 it contained. 
 
 Before he parted wilh Ormond on their arrival at Whitehall, he 
 turned round lo him, as one who has made up his resolution, and 
 said, "Be salisiied, my Lord Duke — our friends' case shall be 
 looked lo." 
 
 In the same evening, the Attorney-General, and North, Lord 
 Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, had orders, with all secrecy, 
 to meet his Majesty that evening on especial mailers of state, at the 
 apartments of Chiffinch, the centre of all affairs, whether of gal- 
 lantry or business. 
 
 NOTE TO CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Note, p. 445.— Colonel Blood. 
 
 The conspirator Blood even fought or made his way into good society, and sat at good 
 men's feasts. Evelyn's Diary bears, lOlh May, I67i,— " Dined at Mr. Treasurer's where 
 dined Monsieur de Grammont and several French noblemen, and one Blood, that impu- 
 dent, bold fellow, that had not long ago attempted to steal the Imperial crown itself out of 
 the Tower, pretending curiosity of seeing the Regalia, when, stabbing the keeper, though 
 not mortally, he boldly went away with it through all the guards, jand was taken only by 
 the accident of his horse falling down. How he came to be pardoned, and even received 
 into favour, not only after this, but several other exploits almost as daring, both in 
 Ireland and here, I could never come to understand. Some believed he became a spy of 
 several parties, being well wilh the sectaries and enthusiasts, and did his Majesty 
 service that way, which none alive could do so well as he. But it was certainly, as the 
 boldest attempt, so the only treason of the sort that was ever pardoned. The man had 
 not only a daring, but a villainous unmerciful look, a false countenance, but very well 
 spoken and dangerously insinuating."— Evelyn's Memoirs, vol. i. p. 413. 
 
 This is one of the many occasions on which we might make curious remarks on the 
 disregard of our forefathers for appearances, even in the regulation of society. What 
 should we think of a Lord of the Treasury, who, to make up a party of French nobles 
 . and English gentlemen of condition, should invite as a guest Barrington or Major Semple, 
 or any well-known chevalier d'industrie? Yet Evelyn does not seem to have been 
 shocked at the man being brought into society, but only at his remaining unhanged. 
 
 CHAPTER XLL 
 
 Yet, Corah, thou shalt from oblivion pass ; 
 Erect thyself, thou monumental brass, 
 High as the serpent of thy metal made, 
 While nations stand secure beneath thy shade i 
 Absalom and Architophel. 
 
 The morning which Charles had spent in visiting the Tower, 
 had been very differently employed by those unhappy individuals, 
 whom Iheir bad fate, and the singular temper of the limes, had 
 made the innocent tenants of that state prison, and who had re- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 440 
 
 ceived official notice that they were to stand their trial in the Court 
 of Ring\s Bench at Westminster, on the seventh succeeding day. 
 The stout old Cavaher at first only railed at the officer for spoiling 
 his breakfast with the news, but evinced great feehng when he was 
 told that Julian was to be put under the same indictment. 
 
 We intend to dwell only very generally on the nature of their 
 trial, which corresponded, in the outline, with almost all those 
 that look place during the prevalence of the Popish Plot. That 
 is, one or two infamous and perjured evidences, whose profession 
 of common informers had become frightfully lucrative, made oath 
 to the prisoners' having expressed themselves interested in the great 
 confederacy of the Catholics. A number of others brought forward 
 facts or suspicions, affecting the character of the parties as honest 
 Protestants and good subjects ^ and betwixt the direct and pre- 
 sumptive evidence, enough was usually extracted for justifying, to 
 a corrupted court and a perjured jury, the fatal verdict of Guilty. 
 
 The fury of the people had, however, now begun to pass away, 
 exhausted even by its own violence. The English nation differ 
 from all others, indeed even from those of the sister kingdoms, in 
 being very easily sated with punishment, even when they suppose 
 it most merited. Other nations are like the tamed tiger, which, 
 when once ils native appetite for slaughter is indulged in one in- 
 stance, rushes on in promiscuous ravages. But the English public 
 have always rather resembled what is told of the sleuth-dog, which, 
 eager, fierce, and clamorous in pursuit of his prey, desists from it 
 so soon as blood is sprinkled upon his path. 
 
 Men's minds were now beginning to cool — the character of the 
 witnesses was more closely sifted — their testimonies did not in all 
 cases tally — and a wholesome suspicion began to be entertained of 
 men, who would never say they had made a full discovery of all 
 they knew, but avowedly reserved some point of evidence to bear 
 on future trials. 
 
 The King also, who had lain passive during the first burst of 
 popular fury, was now beginning to bestir himself, which pro- 
 duced a marked effect on the conduct of the Crown Counsel, and 
 even the Judges. Sir George Wakeman had been acquitted in spile 
 of Oates's direct testimony^ and public attention was strongly 
 exciled concerning the event of the next trial ; which chanced to 
 be that of the Peverils, father and son, with whom, I know not 
 from what concatenation, little Hudson the dwarf was placed at the 
 bar of the Court of King's Bench. 
 
 It was a piteous sight to behold a father and son, who had been 
 so long separated, meet under circumstances so melancholy 5 and 
 many tears were shed, when the niajestic old man — for such he 
 was, though now broken with years — folded his son to his bosom, 
 with a mixture of jov, affection, and a bitter anticipation of the 
 
 29 
 
450 PEVRRIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 event of the impending trial. There was a feeling in the Court 
 that for a moment overcame every prejudice and parly feeling. 
 Many spectators shed tears 5 and there was even a low moaning, 
 as of those who weep aloud. 
 
 Such as felt themselves sufficiently at ease to remark the conduct 
 of poor little GeolTrey Hudson, who was scarcely observed amid 
 the preponderating interest created by his companions in misfor- 
 tune, could not but notice a strong degree of mortification on the 
 part of that diminutive gentleman. He had soothed his great mind 
 by the thoughts of playing the character which he was called on 
 to sustain, in a manner which should be long remembered in that 
 place-, and on his entrance, had saluted the numerous spectators, 
 as well as the Court, with a cavalier air, which he meant should 
 express grace, high-breeding, perfect coolness, with a noble dis- 
 regard to the issue of their proceedings. But his little person was 
 so obscured and jostled aside, on the meeting of the father and 
 son, who had been brought in different boats from the Tower, and 
 placed at the bar at the same moment, that his distress and his 
 dignity were alike thrown into the background, and attracted neither 
 sympathy nor admiration. 
 
 The dwarfs wisest way to attract attention, would have been 
 to remain quiet, when so remarkable an exterior would certainly 
 have received in its turn the share of public notice which he so 
 eagerly coveted. But when did personal vanity listen to the sug- 
 gestions of prudence? — Our impatient friend scrambled, with some 
 difficulty, on the top of the bench intended for his seal ; and 
 there, ''paining himself to stand a-lipoe," like Chaucer's gallant 
 Sir Chaunticlere, he challenged the notice of the audience as he 
 stood bowing and claiming acquaintance of his namesake Sir Geof- 
 frey the larger, with whose shoulders, notwithstanding his elevated 
 situation, he was scarcely yet upon a level. 
 
 The taller Knight, whose mind was occupied in a very different 
 manner, took no notice of those advances upon the dwarfs part, 
 but sat down with the determination rather to die on the spot 
 than evince any symptoms of weakness before Roundheads and 
 Presbyterians ; under which obnoxious epithets, being too old- 
 fashioned to find out party designations of a newer dale, he com- 
 prehended all persons concerned in his present trouble. 
 
 By Sir Geoffrey the larger's change of position, his face was 
 thus brought on a level with Ihat of Sir Geoffrey the less, who had 
 an opportunity of pulling him by the cloak. He of Marlindale 
 Castle, rather mechanically than consciously, turned his head 
 towards the large wrinkled visage, which, struggling between an 
 assumed air of easy importance, and an anxious desire to be noticed, 
 was grimacing within a yard of him. But neither the singular 
 physiognomy, the nods and smiles of greeting and recognition into 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 451 
 
 which it was wreathed, nor the strange little form by which it was 
 supported, had at that moment the power of exciting any recol- 
 lections in the old Knight's mind ^ and having stared for a moment 
 at the poor little man, his bulky namesake turned away his head 
 without farther notice. 
 
 Julian Peveril, the dwarfs more recent acquaintance, had, even 
 amid his own anxious feelings, room for sympathy with those of 
 his little fellow-sufferer. As soon as he discovered that he was at 
 the same terrible bar with himself, although he could not conceive 
 how their causes came to be conjoined, he acknowledged him by 
 a hearty shake of the hand, which the old man returned with 
 alTecled dignity and real gratitude. " Worthy youth," he said, 
 " thy presence is restorative, like the nepenthe of Homer, even in 
 this syncope of our mutual fate, I am concerned to see that your 
 father hath not the same alacrity of soul as that of ours, which are 
 lodged within smaller compass ^ and that he hath forgotten an 
 ancient comrade and fellow-soldier, who now stands beside him to 
 perform, perhaps, their last campaign." 
 
 Julian briefly replied, that his father had much to occupy him. 
 But the little man — who, to do him justice, cared no more (in his 
 own phrase) for imminent danger or death, than he did for the 
 puncture of a flea's proboscis — did not so easily rengunce the se- 
 cret object of his ambition, which was lo acquire the notice of the 
 large and lofty Sir GeofTrey Peveril, who being at least three 
 inches taller than his son, was in so far possessed of that superior 
 excellence, which the poor dwarf, in his secret soul, valued before 
 ail other distinctions, although, in his conversation^ he was con- 
 stantly depreciating it. "Good comrade and namesake," he pro- 
 ceeded, stretching out his hand, so as again to reach the elder 
 Peveril's cloak, '' I forgive your want of reminiscence, seeing it is 
 long since I saw you at Naseby, fighting as if you had as many arms 
 as the fabled Briareus." 
 
 The Knight of Martindale, who had again turned his head towards 
 the little man, and had listened, as if endeavouring to make some- 
 thing out of his discourse, here interrupted him with a peevish 
 "Pshaw!" 
 
 " Pshaw!" repeated Sir Geofl'rey the less; '•'Pshaw is an ex- 
 pression of slight esteem, — nay, of contempt,— in all languages 5 
 and were this a befitting place" 
 
 But the Judges had now taken their places, the criers called 
 silence, and the stern voice of the Lord Chief- Justice (the notorious 
 Scroggs) demanded what the olRcers meant by permitting the ac- 
 cused to communicate together in open court. 
 
 It may here be observed, that this celebrated personage was, 
 upon the present occasion, at a great loss how to proceed. A 
 calm, dignified, judicial demeanour, was at no time the charac- 
 
452 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 leristic of his official conduct. He always ranted and roared either 
 on the one side or the other ^ and of late, he had been much un- 
 setllcd which side to take, being totally incapable of any thing 
 resembling impartiality. At the first trials for the Plot, when the 
 whole stream of popularity ran against the accused, no one had 
 been so loud as Scroggs ; — to attempt to impeach the character of 
 Gates or Bedlowe, or any other leading witness, he treated as a 
 crime more heinous than it would have been to blaspheme the 
 Gospel on which they had been sworn — it was a stifling of the 
 Plot, or discrediting of the King's witnesses, — a crime not greatly, 
 if at all, short of high treason against the King himself. 
 
 But, of late, a new light had begun to glimmer upon the under- 
 standing of this interpreter of the laws. Sagacious in the signs of 
 the limes, he began to see that the tide was turning^ and that Court 
 favour at leasts and probably popular opinion also were likely, in a 
 short lime, to declare against the witnesses, and in favour of the 
 accused. 
 
 The opinion which Scroggs had hitherto entertained of the higli 
 respect in which Shaftesbury, the patron of the Plot, was held by 
 Charles, had been definitively shaken by a whisper from his bro- 
 ther North to the following effect : ''His Lordship has no more 
 interest at Court than your footman." 
 
 This notice, from a sure hand, and received but that morning, 
 had put the Judge to a sore dilemma ^ for, however indifferent to 
 actual consistency, he was most anxious to save appearances. He 
 could not but recollect how violent he had been on former occa- 
 sions in favour of these prosecutions 5 and being sensible at the same 
 lime that the credit of the witnesses, though shaken in the opinion 
 of the more judicious, was, amongst the bulk of the people out of 
 doors, as strong as ever, he had a difficult part to play. His conduct, 
 therefore, during the whole trial, resembled the appearance of a 
 vessel about to go upon another lack, when her sails are shivering 
 in the wind, ere they have yet caught the impulse which is to send 
 her forth in a new direction. In a word, he was so uncertain which 
 side it was his interest to favour, that he might be said on that 
 occasion to have come nearer a state of total impartiality than he 
 was ever capable of attaining, whether before or afterwards. This 
 was shown by his bullying now the accused, and now the witnesses, 
 like a mastiff loo much irritated to lie still without baying, but 
 uncertain whom he shall first bite. 
 
 The indictment was ttien read ^ and Sir Geoffrey Peveril heard, 
 wilh some composure, the first part of it, which staled him to have 
 placed his son in the household of the Countess of Derby, a re- 
 cusant Papist, for the purpose of aiding the horrible and blood- 
 thirsty Popish Plot — with having had arms and ammunition con- 
 cealed in his house — and with receiving a blank commission from 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEA.K. 453 
 
 the Lord Stafford, who had suffered death on account of the Plot. 
 But when the charge went on to state that he had communicated 
 for the same purpose with Geoffrey Hudson, sometimes called Sir 
 Geoffrey Hudson, now, or* formerly, in the domestic service of the 
 Queen Dowager, he looked at his companion as if he suddenly re- 
 called him to remembrance, and broke out impatiently, " These 
 lies are loo gross to require a moment's consideration. I might 
 have had enough of intercourse, though in nothing but what was 
 loyal and innocent, with my noble kinsman, the late Lord Stafford 
 — I will call him so in spite of his misfortunes — and with my wife's 
 relation, the Honourable Countess of Derby. But what likelihood 
 can there be that I should have colleagued with a decrepit buffoon, 
 with w'hom I never had an instant's communication, save once at 
 an Easter feast, when I whistled a hornpipe, as he danced on a 
 trencher to amuse the company?" 
 
 The rage of the poor dwarf brought tears in his eyes, while, 
 with an affected laugh, he said, that instead of those juvenile and 
 festive passages. Sir Geoffrey Peveril might have remembered his 
 charging along with him at Wigan-lane. 
 
 ''On my word," said Sir Geoffrey, after a moment's recollection, 
 " I will do you justice. Master Hudson~I believe you were there 
 — I think I heard you did good service. But you will allow you 
 might have been near one, without his seeing you." 
 
 A sort of titter ran through the Court at the simplicity of the 
 larger Sir Geoffrey's testimony, which the dwarf endeavoured to 
 control, by standing on his tiptoes, and looking fiercely around, as 
 if to admonish the laughers that they indulged their mirth at their 
 own peril. But perceiving that this only excited farther scorn, he 
 composed himself into a semblance of careless contempt, observing, 
 with a smile, that no one feared the glance of a chained lion \ a 
 magnificent simile, which rather increased than diminished the 
 mirth of those who heard it. 
 
 Against Julian Peveril there failed not to be charged the aggravated 
 fact, that he had been bearer of letters between the Countess of 
 Derby and other Papists and priests, engaged in the universal 
 treasonable conspiracy of the Catholics ; and the attack of the house at 
 Moultrassie-Hall, — with his skirmish with Chiffinch, and his assault, 
 as it was termed, on the person of John Jenkins, servant of the 
 Duke of Buckinghanj, were all narrated at length, as so many open 
 and overt acts of treasonable import. To this charge Peveril con- 
 tented himself with pleading— Not Guilty. 
 
 His little companion was not satisfied with so simple a plea ^ for 
 when he heard it read, as a part of the charge applying to him, 
 that he had received from an agent of the Plot a blank commission 
 as Colonel of a regiment of grenadiers, he replied, in wrath and 
 scorn, that if Goliath of Galh had come to him with such a proposal, 
 
454 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 and proffered him the command of the whole sons of Anak in a 
 body, he should never have had occasion or opportunity to repeat 
 the temptation to another. " I would have slain him," said the 
 little man of loyally, " even where he stood." 
 
 The charge was staled anew by the Counsel for the Crown *, and 
 forth came the notorious Doctor Gates, rustling in the full silken 
 canonicals of priesthood, for it was at a time when he affected no 
 small dignity of exterior decoration and deportment. 
 
 This singular man, who, aided by the obscure intrigues of the 
 Catholics themselves, and the fortuitous circumstance of Godfrey's 
 murder, had been able to cram down the public throat such a mass 
 of absurdity as his evidence amounts to, had no other talent for im- 
 posture than an impudence which set conviction and shame alike 
 at defiance. A man of sense or reflection, by trying to give his plot 
 an appearance of more probability, would most likely have failed, 
 as wise men often do in addressing the multitude, from not daring 
 to calculate upon the prodigious extent of their credulity, especially 
 where the figments presented to them involve the fearful and the 
 terrible. 
 
 Gates was by nature choleric ^ and the credit he had acquired 
 made him insolent and conceited. Even his exterior was porten- 
 tous. A fleece of while periwig showed a most uncouth visage of 
 great length, having the mouth, as the organ by use of which he 
 was to rise to eminence, placed in the very centre oif the countenance, 
 and exhibiting to the astonished spectator as much chin below as 
 there was nose and brow above the aperture. His pronunciation, 
 too, was after a conceited fashion of his own, in which he accented 
 the vowels in a manner altogether peculiar to himself. 
 
 This notorious personage, such as w^e have described him, stood 
 forth on the present trial, and delivered his astonishing testimony 
 concerning the existence of a Catholic Plot for the subversion of the 
 government and murder of the King, in the same general outline 
 in which it may be found in every English history. But as the 
 Doctor always had in reserve some special piece of evidence affect- 
 ing those immediately on trial, he was pleased, on the present 
 occasion, deeply to inculpate the Countess of Derby. " He had 
 seen," as he said, " that honourable lady when he was at the Jesuit's 
 College at Saint Gmer's. She had sent for him to an inn, or auberge, 
 at it was there termed— the sign of the Golden Lamb \ and had 
 ordered him to breakfast in the same room with her ladyship ^ and 
 afterwards told him, that, knowing he was trusted by the Fathers of 
 the Society, she was determined that he should have a share of her 
 secrets also ; and therewithal, that she drew from her bosom a broad 
 sharp-pointed knife, such as butchers kill sheep with, and demanded 
 of him what he thought of it for the purpose : and when he, the 
 witness, said for what purpose, she rapt him on the fingers with 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 455 
 
 ber fan, called him a dull fellow, and said 11 was designed to kill 
 the King with." 
 
 Here Sir Geoffrey Peveril could no longer restrain his indignation 
 and surprise. " Mercy of Heaven ! " he said, " did ever one hear 
 of ladies of quality carrying butchering knives about them, and 
 telling every scurvy companion she meant to kill the King with 
 them ? — Gentlemen of the Jury, do but think if this is reasonable 
 —though, if the villain could prove by any honest evidence, that 
 my Lady of Derby ever let such a scum as himself come to speech 
 of her, I would believe all he can say." 
 
 '' Sir Geoffrey," said the Judge, "rest you quiet— You must not 
 fly oui — passion helps you not here — the Doctor must be suffered 
 to proceed." 
 
 Doctor Gates went on to state, how the lady complained of the 
 wrongs the house of Derby had sustained from the King, and the 
 oppression of her reUgion, and boasted of the schemes of the Jesuits 
 and seminary priests ; and how they would be furthered by her 
 noble kinsman of the House of Stanley. He finally averred that 
 both the Countess and the Fathers of the seminary abroad, founded 
 much upon the talents and courage of Sir Geoffrey Peveril and his 
 son — the latter of whom was a member of her family. Of Hudson 
 he only recollected of having heard one of the Fathers say, " that 
 though but a dwarf in stature, he would prove a giant in the cause 
 of the Church." 
 
 When he had ended his evidence,, there was a pause, until the 
 Judge, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him, demanded 
 of Dr. Gates, whether he had ever mentioned the name of the 
 Countess of Derby in any of the previous informations which he 
 had lodged before the Privy Council, and elsewhere, upon this 
 affair ? 
 
 Gates seemed rather surprised at the question, and coloured with 
 anger, as he answered, in his peculiar mode of pronunciation, 
 " Whoy, no, maay laard." 
 
 " And, pray, Doctor," said the Judge, " how came so great a 
 revealer of mysteries as you have lately proved, to have suffered so 
 material a circumstance as the accession of this powerful family to 
 the Plot to have remained undiscovered?" 
 
 " Maay laard," said Gates, with much effrontery, " aye do not 
 come here to have my evidence questioned as touching the Plaat." 
 
 " I do not question your evidence. Doctor," said Scroggs, for 
 the time was not arrived that he dared treat him roughly 5 "nor 
 do I doubt the existence of the Plaat^ since it is your pleasure to 
 swear to it. I would only have you, for your own sake, and the 
 satisfaction of all good Protestants, to explain why you have kept 
 back such a weighty point of information from the King and country . " 
 
 " Maay laard," said Gates, " I will tell you a pretty fable." 
 
456 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 *' 1 hope," answered the Judge, " it may be the first and last 
 which you shall lell in this place.'* 
 
 "Maay laard," continued Gates, '' there was once a faux, who 
 having to caarry a goose aver a frazen river, and being afraid the 
 aice would not bear him and his booty, did caarry aver a slaane, 
 maay laard, in the first instance, to prove the strength of the aice." 
 
 *' So your former evidence was but the stone, and now, for the 
 first time, you have brought us the goose?" said Sir William 
 Scroggs; " to tell us this. Doctor, is to make geese of the Court and 
 Jury." 
 
 " I desoire your hardship's honest construction," said Gates, who 
 saw the current changing against him, but was determined to pay 
 the score with effrontery. " All men knaw at what coast and praice 
 I have given my evidence, which has been always, under Gaad, the 
 means of awakening this poor naation to the dangerous state in 
 which it slaunds. Many here knaw that I have been obliged to 
 faarlify my ladging at Whitehall against the bloody Papists. It was 
 not to be thought that I should have brought all the story out at 
 aance. I think your wisdom would have advised me otherwise '." 
 
 "Nay, Doctor," said the Judge, " it is not for me to direct you 
 in this affair ; and it is for the Jury to believe you or not; and as for 
 myself, I sit here to do justice to both — the Jury have heard your 
 answer to my question." 
 
 Doctor Gates retired from the witness-box reddening like a tur- 
 key-cock, as one totally unused to have such accounts questioned 
 as he chose to lay before the courts of justice ^ and there was pei- 
 haps for the first time, amongst the counsel and sohcitors, as well 
 as the templars and students of law there present, a murmur dis- 
 tinct and audible, unfavourable to the character of the great father 
 of the Popish Plot. 
 
 Everett and Dangerfield, with whom the reader is already ac- 
 quainted, were then called in succession to sustain the accusation. 
 They were subordinate informers — a sort of under-spur-lealhers, 
 as the cant term went — who followed the path of Gales, with all 
 deference to his superior genius and invention, and made their own 
 fictions chime in and harmonize with his, as well as their talents 
 could devise. But as their evidence had at no time received the full 
 credence into which the impudence of Gates had cajoled the public, 
 so they now began to fall into discredit ratlier more hastily than 
 their prototype, as the superadded turrets of an ill-constructed 
 building are naturally the first to give way. 
 
 It was in vain that Everett, with the precision of a hypocrite, 
 
 • It was in such terms that Dr. Oales was pleased to claim the extraordinary privilege 
 of dealing out the information which he chose to communicate to a court of justice. The 
 only sense in which his story of the fox, stone, and goose, could be applicable, is by 
 supposing, that he was determined to ascertain the extent of his countrymen's credulity 
 before supplying it witif a full meal. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 457 
 
 and Dangerfield, with the audacity of a bully, narrated, with added 
 circumstances of suspicion and criminality, their meeting with 
 Julian Peveril in Liverpool, and again at Martindale Castle. It was 
 in vain they described the arms and accoutrements which they pre- 
 tended to have discovered in old Sir Geoffrey's possession ; and that 
 they gave a most dreadful account of the escape of the younger 
 Peveril from Moultrassie-Hall, by means of an armed force. 
 
 The Jury listened coldly, and it was visible that they were but 
 little moved by the accusation •, especially as the Judge, always pro- 
 fessing his belief in the Plot, and his zeal for the Protestant religion, 
 was ever and anon reminding them that presumptions were not 
 proofs — tliat hearsay was no evidence — that those who made a trade 
 of discovery were likely to aid their researches by invention — and 
 that without doubling the guilt of the unfortunate persons at the 
 bar, he would gladly hear some evidence brought against them of 
 a different nature. 
 
 " Here we are told of a riot, and an escape achieved by the 
 younger Peveril, at the house of a grave and worthy magistrate, 
 known, I think, to most of us. Why, Master Attorney, bring ye 
 not Master Bridgenorlh himself to prove the fact, or all his house- 
 hold, if it be necessary? — Arising in arms is an afTair over public to be 
 left on the hearsay tale of these two men — though Heaven forbid 
 that I should suppose they speak one word more than they believe. 
 They are the witnesses for the King— and, what is equally dear to 
 us, the Protestant religion — and witnesses against a most foul and 
 heathenish Plot. On the other hand, here is a worshipful old knight, 
 for such I must suppose him to be, since he has bled often in battle 
 for the King, — such, I must say, I suppose him to be, until he is 
 proved otherwise. And here is his son, a hopeful young gentleman 
 — we must see that they have right. Master Attorney." 
 
 "Unquestionably, my lord," answered the Attorney. "God 
 forbid else ! But we will make out these matters against these un- 
 happy gentlemen in a manner more close, if your lordship will 
 permit us to bring in our evidence." 
 
 "Go on. Master Attorney," said the Judge, throwing himself 
 back in his seat. " Heaven forbid I hinder proving the King's ac- 
 cusation ! I only say, what you know as well as I, that de non ap- 
 parentibus et non existentibus eadeni est ratio.''' 
 
 "We shall then call Master Bridgenorlh, as your lordship ad- 
 vises, who I think is in waiting." 
 
 "No!" answered a voice from the crowd, apparently that of a 
 female ; " he is too wise and too honest to be here." 
 
 The voice was distinct as that of Lady Fairfax, when she ex- 
 pressed herself to a similar effect on the trial of Charles the First ; 
 but the researches which were made on the present occasion to dis- 
 cover the speaker were unsuccessful. 
 
468 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 After the slight confusion occasioned by this circumstance was 
 abated, the Attorney, who had been talking aside with the con- 
 ductors of the prosecution, said, "Whoever favoured us with that 
 Information, my lord, had good reason for what they said. Master 
 Bridgenorlh has become, I am told, suddenly invisible since this 
 morning." 
 
 '' Look you there now. Master Attorney," said the Judge — "This 
 comes of not keeping the crown witnesses together and in readiness 
 —I am sure I cannot help the consequences." 
 
 " Nor I either, my lord," said the Attorney, pettishly. " I could 
 have proved by this worshipful gentleman. Master Justice Bridge- 
 norlh, the ancient friendship betwixt this parly. Sir Geoffrey 
 Peveril, and the Countess of Derby, of whose doings and inten- 
 tions Doctor Gates has given such a deliberate evidence. I could 
 have proved his having sheltered her in his Castle against a process 
 of law, and rescued her, by force of arms, from this very Justice 
 Bridgenorth, not without actual violence. Moreover, I could have 
 proved against young Peveril the whole affray charged upon him 
 by the same worshipful evidence." 
 
 Here the Judge stuck his thumbs into his girdle, which was a 
 favourite attitude of his on such occasions, and exclaimed, " Pshaw, 
 pshaw. Master Attorney I— Tell me not that you could have proved 
 this, and you could have proved that, or that, or this — Prove what 
 you will, but let it be through the mouths of your evidence. Men 
 are not to be licked out of their lives by the rough side of a law- 
 yer's tongue." 
 
 " Nor is a foul Plot to be smothered," said the Attorney, " for 
 all the haste your Lordship is in. I cannot call Master Chiffinch 
 neither, as he is employed on the King's especial affairs, as I am 
 this instant certiorated from the Court at Whitehall." 
 
 " Produce the papers, then, Master Attorney, of which Ihis young 
 man is said to be the bearer," said the Judge. 
 
 " They are before the Privy Council, my Lord." 
 
 " Then why do you found on them here :" said the Judge — 
 " This is something like trifling wilh the Court." 
 
 " Since your Lordship gives it that name," said the Attorney, 
 silting down in a huff, "you may manage the cause as you will." 
 
 " If you do not bring more evidence, I pray you to charge the 
 Jury," said the Judge. 
 
 " I shall not take the trouble to do so," said the Crown Counsel. 
 " I see plainly how the matter is to go." 
 
 " Nay, but be better advised," said Scroggs. " Consider, your 
 case is but half proved respecting the two Peverils, and doth, not 
 pinch on the little man at all, saving that Doctor Gates said that 
 he was in a certain case to prove a giant, which seems no very 
 probable Poi)ish miracle." 
 
PEVERIL of THE PEAK. 459 
 
 This sally occasioned a laugh in the Court, which the Attorney - 
 General seemed to take in great dudgeon. 
 
 " Master Attorney," said Gates, who always Interfered in the 
 management of these lawsuits, " this is a plain and absolute giving 
 away of the cause —I must needs say it, a mere stoifling of the 
 Plaat." 
 
 " Then the Devil who bred it may blow wind into it again, if 
 he lists," answered the Attorney-General ; and, flinging down his 
 brief, he left the Court, as in a huff with all who were concerned 
 in the affair. 
 
 The Judge having obtained silence — for a murmur arose in the 
 Court when the Counsel for the prosecution threw up his brief- 
 began to charge the Jury, balancing, as he had done throughout 
 the whole day, the different opinions by which he seemed alter- 
 nately swayed. He protested on his salvation thai he had no more 
 doubt of the existence of the horrid and damnable conspiracy called 
 the Popish Plot, than he had of the treachery of Judas Iscariol : 
 and that he considered Gates as the instrument under Providence 
 of preserving the nation from all the miseries of his Majesty's as- 
 sassination, and of a second Saint Bartholomew, acted in the streets 
 of London. But then he stated, it was the candid construction of the 
 law of England, that the worse the crime, the more strong should be 
 theevidence. Here was thecase of accessories tried, whilst theirprin- 
 cipal—for such he should call the Countess of Derby — was uncon- 
 victed and at large 5 and for Doctor Gates, he had but spoke of mat- 
 ters which personally applied to that noble lady, whose words, if 
 she used such in passion, touching aid which she expected in some 
 treasonable matters from these Peverils, and from her kinsmen, or 
 her son's kinsmen, of the House of Stanley, may have been but a 
 burst of female resentment — dulcis Amaryllidis ira, as the poet 
 hath it. Who knowelh but Doctor Gales did mistake— he being a 
 gentleman of a comely countenance and easy demeanour— this 
 same rap with the fan as a chastisement for lack of courage in the 
 Catholic cause, when, peradventure, it was otherwise meant, as 
 Popish ladies will put, it is said, such neophytes and youthful can- 
 didates for orders, to many severe trials. " I speak these things jo- 
 cularly," said the Judge, '' having no wish to stain the reputation 
 either of the Honourable Countess or the Reverend Doctor \ only I 
 think the bearing between them may have related to something 
 short of high treason. As for what the Attorney-General hath set 
 forth of rescues and force, and I wot not what, sure I am, that in a 
 civil country, when such things happen, such things may be proved 5 
 and that you and I, gentlemen, are not to take them for granted 
 gratuitously. Touching this other prisoner, this Galfrldus mini- 
 mus, he must needs say," he continued, '' he could not discover 
 even a shadow of suspicion against him. Was it to be thought so abor- 
 
460 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 live a creature would thrust himself into depths of policy, far less 
 into stratagems of war? They had but to look at him to conclude 
 the contrary — the creature was, from his age, fitter for the grave 
 than a conspiracy — and by his size and appearance, for the inside 
 of a raree-show, than the mysteries of a plot." 
 
 The dwarf here broke in upon the Judge by force of screaming, 
 to assure him that he had been, simple as he sat there, engaged 
 in seven plots in Cromwell's time; and, as he proudly added, with 
 some of the ^tallest men of England. The matchless look and air 
 with which Sir Geoffrey Hudson made this vaunt, set all a-laugh- 
 ing, and increased the ridicule with which the whole trial began to 
 be received ; so that it was amidst shaking sides and watery eyes 
 that a general verdict of Not Guilty was pronounced, and the pri- 
 soners dismissed from the bar. 
 
 But a warmer sentiment awakened among those who saw the 
 father and son throw themselves into each other's arms, and, after 
 a hearty embrace, extend their hands to their poor little companion 
 in peril, who, like a dog, when present at a similar scene, had at 
 last succeeded, by stretching himself up to them and whimpering 
 at the same time, to secure to himself a portion of their sympathy 
 and gratulation. 
 
 Such was the singular termination of this trial. Charles himself 
 was desirous to have taken considerable credit with the Duke of 
 Ormond for the evasion of the law, which had been thus effected by 
 his private connivance ; and was both surprised and mortified at the 
 coldness with which his Grace replied, that he was rejoiced at the 
 poor gentlemen's safety, but would rather have had the King re- 
 deem them like a prince, by his royal prerogative of mercy, than 
 that his Judge should convey them out of the power of the law, 
 like a juggler with his cups and balls. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 On fair ground 
 
 I couid beat forty of them : 
 
 Coriolanus. 
 
 It doubtless occurred to many that were present at the trial wc 
 have described, that it was managed in a singular manner, and the 
 quarrel, which had the appearance of having taken place between 
 the Court and (he Crown Counsel, might proceed from some private 
 understanding belwixt them, the object of which was the miscar- 
 riage of the accusation. Yet though such underhand dealing was 
 much suspected, the greater part of the audience, being well edu- 
 cated and intelligent, had already suspected the bubble of the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 461 
 
 Popish Plot, and were glad to see that accusations, founded on what 
 had already cost so must blood, could be evaded in any way. But 
 the crowd, who wailed in the Court of Requests, and in the hall, 
 and without doors, viewed in a very different light the combina- 
 tion, as they interpreted it, between the Judge and Attorney-Gene- 
 ral, for the escape of the prisoners. 
 
 Gates, whom less provocation than he had (hat day received often 
 induced to behave like one frantic with passion, threw himself 
 amongst the crowd, and repeated till he was hoarse, " Theay are 
 stoifling the Plaat I — theay are slraangling the Plaat! — My Laard 
 Justice and Maaster Atlarney are in league to secure the escape of 
 the plaaters and Paapists !" 
 
 " It is the device of the Papist whore of Portsmouth," said one. 
 
 " Of old Rowley himself," said another. 
 
 "If he could be murdered by himself, why, hang those that 
 would hinder it !" exclaimed a third. 
 
 " He should be tried," said a fourth, " for conspiring his own 
 death, and hanged in terrorem.'' 
 
 In the meanwhile, Sir Geoffrey, his son, and their little compa- 
 nion, left the hall, intending to go to Lady Peveril's lodgings, 
 which had been removed to Fleet-street. She had been relieved 
 from considerable inconvenience, as Sir Geoffrey gave Julian 
 hastily to understand, by an angel, in the shape of a young friend, 
 and she now expected them doubtless with impatience. Humanity, 
 and some indistinct idea of having unintentionally hurt the feelings 
 of the poor dwarf, induced the honest Cavalier to ask this unpro- 
 tected being to go with them. " He knew Lady Peveril's lodgings 
 were but small," he said^ " but it would be strange, if there was 
 not some cupboard large enough to accommodate the little gentle- 
 man." 
 
 The dwarf registered this well-meant remark in his mind, to be 
 the subject of a proper explanation, along with the unhappy 
 reminiscence of the trencher-hornpipe, whenever time should 
 permit an argument of such nicety. 
 
 And thus they sallied from the hall, attracting general observa- 
 tion, both from the circumstances in which they had stood so 
 lately, and from their resemblance, as a wag of the Inner Temple 
 expressed it, to the three degrees of comparison, Large, Lesser, 
 Least. But they had not passed far along the street, when Julian 
 perceived, that more malevolent passions than mere curiosity began 
 to actuate the crowd, which followed, and, as it were, dogged their 
 motions. 
 
 '* There go the Papist cut-throats, tantivy for Rome !" said one 
 fellow. 
 
 " Tantivy to Whitehall, you mean!" said another. 
 
 ''Ah! the blood-thirsty villains!" cried a woman: ''Shame, 
 
462 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 one of them should be suffered to live, after poor Sir Edmunds- 
 bury 's cruel murder! " 
 
 ''Out upon the mealy-mouthed jury, that turned out the 
 bloodhounds on an innocent town!" cried a fourth. 
 
 In short, the tumult thickened, and the word began to pass 
 among the more desperate, " Lambe them, lads; Lambe them!" 
 — a cant phrase of the time, derived from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an 
 astrologer and quack, who was knocked on the head by the rabble 
 in Charles the First's time. 
 
 JuHan began to be much alarmed at these symptoms of violence, 
 and regretted that they had not gone down to the city by water. It 
 was now too late to think of that mode of retreating, and he there- 
 fore requested his father in a whisper to walk steadily forward 
 towards Charing Cross, taking no notice of the insults which might 
 be cast upon them, while the steadiness of their pace and appearance 
 might prevent the rabble from resorting to actual violence. The 
 execution of this prudent resolution was prevented after they had 
 passed the palace, by the hasty disposition of the elder Sir 
 Geoffrey, and the no less choleric temper of Galfridus Minimus, 
 who had a soul which spurned all odds, as well of numbers as 
 of size. 
 
 "Now a murrain take the knaves, with their hallooing and 
 whooping," said the larger knight ^ " by this day, if I could but 
 light on a weapon, I would cudgel reason and loyalty into some of 
 their carcasses ! '* 
 
 " And I also, " said the dwarf, who was toiling to keep up with 
 the longer strides of his companions, and therefore spoke in a very 
 phthisical lone,—" I also will cudgel the plebeian knaves beyond 
 measure — he I — hem ! " 
 
 Among the crowd who thronged around them, impeded, and did 
 all but assault them, was a mischievous shoemaker's apprentice, 
 who, hearing this unlucky vaunt of the valorous dwarf, repaid it by 
 flapping him on the head with a boot which he was carrying home 
 to the owner, so as to knock the little gentleman's hat over his eyes. 
 The dwarf, thus rendered unable to discover the urchin that had 
 given him the offence, flew with instinctive ambition against the 
 biggest fellow in the crowd, who received the onset with a kick on 
 the stomach, which made the poor little champion reel back to his 
 companions. They were now assaulted on all sides 5 but fortune, 
 complying with the wish of Sir Geoffrey the larger, ordained that 
 the scuffle should happen near the booth of a cutler, from amongst 
 whose wares, as they stood exposed to the public, Sir Geoffrey 
 Peveril snatched a broadsword, which he brandished with the for- 
 midable address of one who had for many a day been in the familiar 
 practice of using such a weapon. Julian, while at the same lime he 
 called loudly for a peace-officer, and reminded the assailants that they 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 463 
 
 were attacking inoffensive passengers, saw nothing better for It than 
 to imitate his father's example, and seized also one of the weapons 
 thus opportunely offered. 
 
 When they displayed these demonstrations of defence, the rush 
 which the rabble at first made towards them was so great as to throw 
 down the unfortunate dwarf, who would have been trampled to 
 death in the scuffle, had not his stout old namesake cleared the rascal 
 crowd from about him with a few flourishes of his weapon, and 
 seizing on the fallen champion, put him out of danger (except from 
 missiles), by suddenly placing him on the bulkhead, that is to say, 
 (he flat wooden roof of the cutler's projecting booth. From the rusty 
 ironware which was displayed there, the dwarf instantly snatched 
 an old rapier and target, and, covering himself with the one, stood 
 making pass with the other, at the faces and eyes of the people in 
 the street^ so much delighted with his post of vantage, that he 
 called loudly to his friends who were skirmishing with the rioters 
 on more equal terms as to position, to lose no time in putting them- 
 selves under his protection. But far from being in a situation to 
 need his assistance, the father and son might easily have extricated 
 themselves from the rabble by their own exertions, could they have 
 thought of leaving the mannikin in the forlorn situation, in which, 
 to every eye but his own, he stood like a diminutive puppet, tricked 
 out with sword and target as a fencing-master's sign. 
 
 Stones and sticks began now to fly very thick, and the crowd, 
 notwithstanding the exertions of the Peverils to disperse them with 
 as little harm as possible, seemed determined on mischief, when 
 some gentlemen w ho had been at the trial, understanding that (he 
 prisoners who had been just acquitted were in danger of being 
 murdered by the populace, drew their swords, and made forward 
 to effect their rescue, which was completed by a small party of the 
 King's Life-Guards, who had been dispatched from their ordinary 
 post of alarm, upon intelligence of what was passing. When this 
 unexpected reinforcement arrived, the old jolly Knight at once 
 recognised, amidst the cries of those who then entered upon action, 
 some of the sounds which had animated his more active years. 
 
 ' ' Where be these cuckoldy Roundheads ? ' ' cried some. — ' ' Down 
 with the sneaking knaves I" cried others — "The King and his 
 friends, and the devil a one else I " exclaimed a third set, with more 
 oaths and d— n me's, than, in the present more correct age, it is 
 necessary to commit to paper. 
 
 The old soldier, pricking up his ears like an ancient hunter at 
 the cry of the hounds, would gladly have scoured the Strand, with 
 the charitable purpose, now he saw himself so well supported, of 
 knocking the London knaves, who had insulted him, into twiggen 
 bottles j but he was withheld by the prudence of Juhan, who, though 
 himself extremely irritated by the unprovoked ill usage which they 
 
464 1>EVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 had received , saw himself in a situation in which il was necessary 
 to exercise more caution than vengeance. He prayed and pressed 
 his father to seek some temporary place of relreat from the fury of 
 the populace, while that prudent measure was yet in their power. 
 The subaltern officer who commanded the party of the Life-Guards, 
 exhorted the old Cavalier eagerly to the same sage counsel, using, 
 as a spice of compulsion, the name of the King ; while Julian 
 strongly urged that of his mother. The old Knight looked at his 
 blade, crimsoned with cross-cuts and slashes which he had given to 
 the most forward of the assailants, with the eye of one not half 
 sufficed. 
 
 " I would I had pinked one of the knaves at least— but I know 
 not how it was, when I looked on their broad round English faces, 
 I shunned to use my point, and only sliced the rogues a little." 
 
 *' But the King's pleasure," said the officer, " is, that no tumult 
 be prosecuted." 
 
 " My mother," said Julian, " will die with fright, if the rumour 
 of this scuffle reaches her ere we see her. " 
 
 " Ay, ay,'' said the Knight, " the King's Majesty, and my good 
 dame — well, their pleasure be done, that's all I can say — Kings and 
 ladies must be obeyed. But which way to retreat, since retreat we 
 needs must?" 
 
 Julian would have been at some loss to advise what course to take, 
 for every body in the vicinity had shut up their shops, and chained 
 their doors, upon observing the confusion become so formidable. 
 The poor cutler, however, with whose goods they made so free, 
 offered them an asylum on the part of his landlord, whose house 
 served as a rest for his shop, and only intimated gently, he hoped 
 the gentlemen would consider him for the use of his weapons. 
 
 Julian was hastily revolving whether they ought, in prudence, 
 to accept this man's invitation, aware, by experience, how many 
 trepans, as they were then termed, were used betwixt two con- 
 tending factions, each too inveterate to be very scrupulous of the 
 character of fair play to an enemy , when the dwarf, exerting his 
 cracked voice to the uttermost , and shrieking like an exhausted 
 herald, from the exalted situation which he still occupied on the 
 bulk-head, exhorted them to accept the offer of the worthy man of 
 the mansion. " He himself," he said, as he reposed himself after 
 the glorious conquest in which he had some share, " had been 
 favoured with a beatific vision, too splendid to be described to 
 common and mere mortal ears, but which had commanded him, in 
 a voice to which his heart had bounded as to a trumpet sound, to 
 take refuge with the worthy person of the house, and cause his 
 friends to do so." 
 
 *' Vision ! " said the Knight of the Peak, — *' sound of a trumpet! 
 — the litlle man is stark mad." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 465 
 
 But Ihe ctftler, in great hasle, intimated to them that their little 
 friend had received an intimation from a gentlewoman of his ac- 
 quaintance, who spoke to him from the window, while he stood on 
 the bulk-head, that they would find a safe relreat in his landlord's^ 
 and desiring them to attend to two or three deep though distant 
 huzzas, made them aware that the rabble were up still, and would 
 soon be upon them with renewed violence, and increased numbers. 
 The father and son, therefore, hastily thanked the olTicer and his 
 party, as well as the other gentlemen who had volunteered in their 
 assistance, lifted little Sir Geoffrey Hudson from the conspicuous 
 post which he had so creditably occupied during the skirmish, and 
 followed the footsteps of the tenant of the booth, who conducted 
 them down a blind alley, and through one or two courts, in case, 
 as he said, any one might have watched where they burrowed, and 
 so into a back-door. This entrance admitted them to a staircase 
 carefully hung with straw mats to exclude damp, from the upper 
 step of which they entered upon a tolerably large withdrawing- 
 room, hung with coarse green serge edged with gilded leather, 
 which the poorer or more economical citizens at that lime used 
 instead of tapestry or wainscoting. 
 
 Here the poor cutlur received from Juhan such a gratuity for the 
 loan of the swords, that he generously abandoned the property to 
 tlie gentlemen who had used them so well^ "the rather," he said, 
 "that he saw, by the way they handled their weapons, that they 
 were men of mettle, and tall fellows." 
 
 Here the dwarf smiled on him courteously, and bowed, thrust- 
 ing, at the same time, his hand into his pocket, which, however, he 
 withdrew carelessly, probably because he found he had not the 
 means of making the small donation which he had meditated. 
 
 The cutler proceeded to say, as he bowed and was about to with- 
 draw, that he saw there would be merry days yet in Old England, 
 and that Bilboa blades would fetch as good a price as ever. " I 
 remember," he said, " gentlemen, though I was then but a prentice, 
 the demand for weapons in the years forty-one and forty-two 5 
 sword-blades were more in request than toothpicks, and Old Iron- 
 sides, my master, took more for rascally Provant rapiers, than I 
 dare ask now-a-days for a Toledo. But, to be sure, a man's life 
 then rested on the blade he carried; the Cavaliers and Roundheads 
 fought every day at the gales of Whitehall, as it is like, gentlemen, 
 by your good example, they may do again, when I shall be enabled 
 to leave my pitiful booth, and open a shop of better quality. I 
 hope you will recommend me, gentlemen, to your friends. I am 
 always provided with ware which a gentleman may risk his life 
 on." 
 
 "Thank you, good friend," said Julian, " I prithee begone. I 
 4rust we shall need thy ware no more for some time at least." 
 
 30 
 
466 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 The culler retired, while the dwarf hallooed after him down- 
 stairs, that he would call on him soon, and equip himself with a 
 longer blade, and one more proper for action 5 although, he said, 
 the little weapon he had did well enough for a walking-sword, or 
 in a skirmish with such canaille as they had been engaged with. 
 
 The culler returned at this summons, and agreed to pleasure the 
 little man with a weapon more suitable to his magnanimity; then, 
 as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him, he said, "But, 
 gentlemen, it will be but wild work to walk with your naked swords 
 through the Strand, and it can scarce fail to raise the rabble again. 
 If you please, while you repose yourselves here, I can fit the 
 blades with sheaths." 
 
 The proposal seemed so reasonable, that Julian and his father 
 gave up their weapons to the friendly cutler, an example which 
 the dwarf followed, after a moment's hesitation, not caring, as he 
 magnificently expressed it, to part so soon with the trusty friend 
 which fortune had but the moment before restored to his hand. 
 The man retired with the weapons under his arm •, and, in shutting 
 the door behind him, they heard him turn the key. 
 
 "Did you hear that?" said Sir Geoffrey to his son — "and we 
 are disarmed!" 
 
 Julian, without reply, examined the door, which was fast secured; 
 and then looked at the casements, which were at a story's height 
 from the ground, and grated besides with iron. " I cannot think," 
 he said, after a moment's pause, "that the fellow means to trepan 
 us; and, in any event, I trust we should have no ditficully in forcing 
 the door, or otherwise making an escape. But, before resorting to 
 such violent measures, I think it is belter to give the rabble leisure 
 to disperse, by waiting this man's return with our weapons within 
 a reasonable time, when, if he does not appear, I trust we shall 
 find little difficulty in extricating ourselves." As he spoke thus, 
 the hangings were pulled aside, and, from a small door which was 
 concealed behind them. Major Bridgenorth entered the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 He came amongst them like a new raised spirit. 
 To speak of dreadful judgments that impend, 
 And of the wrath to come. 
 
 The Reformer. 
 
 The astonishment of Julian at the unexpected apparition of 
 Bridgenorth, was instantly succeeded by apprehension of his fa- 
 ther's violence, which he had every reason to believe would break 
 forth against one, whom he himself could not but reverence on 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 467 
 
 account of his own merits, as well as because he was the father of 
 Alice. The appearance of Bridgcnorth was not, however, such as 
 lo awaken resentment. His countenance was calm, his step slow 
 and composed, his eye not without the indication of some deep- 
 seated anxiety, but without any expression either of anger or of 
 triumph. " You are welcome," he said, "Sir GeotTrey Peveril, to 
 the shelter and hospitality of (his house ^ as welcome as you would 
 have been in other days, when we called each other neighbours and 
 friends." 
 
 *' Odzooks," said the old Cavalier, " and had I known it was thy 
 house, man, I would sooner had my heart's blood run down the 
 kennel, than my foot should have crossed your threshold — in the 
 way of seeking safety, that is." 
 
 '' I forgive your inveteracy," said Major Bridgenorth, ''on ac- 
 count of your prejudices." 
 
 "Keep your forgiveness," answered the Cavalier, "until you 
 are pardoned yourself. By Saint George, I have sworn, if ever I 
 got my heels out of yon rascally prison, whither I was sent much 
 through your means. Master Bridgenorth, — that you should pay 
 the reckoning for my bad lodging. I will strike no man in his 
 own house •, but if you will cause the fellow to bring back my wea- 
 pon, and lake a turn in that blind court there below, along with 
 me, you shall soon see what chance a traitor hath with a true man, 
 and a kennel-blooded Puritan with Peveril of the Peak." 
 
 Bridgenorth smiled with much composure. "When I was 
 younger and more warm blooded," he replied, " I refused your 
 challenge. Sir Geoffrey, it is not likely I should now accept it, 
 when each is within a stride of the grave. I have not spared, and 
 will not spare, my blood, when my country wants it." 
 
 " That is, when there is any chance of treason against the King," 
 said Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 "Nay, my father," said Julian, " let us hear Master Bridgenorth ! 
 We have been sheltered in his house ; and although we now see 
 him in London, we should remember that he did not appear against 
 us this day, when perhaps his evidence might have given a fatal 
 turn to our situation." 
 
 "You are right, young man," said Bridgenorth; "and it should 
 be some pledge of my sincere good will, that I was this day absent 
 from Westminster, when a few words from my mouth had ended 
 the long line of Peveril of the Peak : It needed but ten minutes to 
 walk to Westminster Hall, to have ensured your condemnation. 
 But could I have done this, knowing, as I now know, that to thee, 
 Julian Peveril, I owe the extrication of my daughter — of my dearest 
 Alice — 'the memory of her departed mother — from the snares which 
 hell and profligacy had opened around her?" 
 
 " She is, I trust, safe," said Peveril, eagerly, and almost for- 
 
468 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 getting his father's presence^ "she is, I trust, safe, and in your 
 own wardship?" 
 
 '' Not in mipe," said the dejected father ^ "but in that of one in 
 
 whose protection, next to that of Heaven, I can most fully confide." 
 
 " Are you sure— are you very sure of that?" repeated Julian, 
 
 eagerly. " I found her under the charge of one to whom she had 
 
 been trusted, and who yet" 
 
 "And who yet was the basest of women," answered Bridgenorth ; 
 "but he who selected her for the charge was deceived in her 
 character." 
 " Say rather you were deceived in his^ remember that when we 
 
 parted at Moultrassie, I warned you of that Ganlesse— that" 
 
 " I know your meaning," said Bridgenorth-, "nor did you err 
 in describing him as a worldly-wise man. But he has atoned for 
 his error by recovering Alice from the dangers into which she was 
 plunged when separated from you^ and besides, I have not 
 thought meet again to intrust him with the charge that is dearest 
 to me." 
 
 " I thank God your eyes are thus far opened !" said Julian. 
 " This day will open them wide, or close them for ever," answered 
 Bridgenorth. 
 
 During this dialogue, which the speakers hurried through with- 
 out attending to the others who were present, Sir GeolTrey listened 
 with surprise and eagerness, endeavouring to catch something 
 which should render their conversation intelligible^ but as he 
 totally failed in gaining any such key to their meaning, he broke 
 in with,—" 'Sblood and thunder, Julian, what unprofitable gossip 
 is this? What hast thou to do with this fellow, more than to 
 bastinado him, if you should think it worth while to beat so old 
 a rogue?" 
 
 "My dearest father," said Juhan, " you know not this gentle- 
 man — I am certain you do him injustice. My own obhgations to 
 
 him are many ^ and I am sure when you come to know them" 
 
 "I hope I shall die ere that moment come," said Sir Geoffrey; 
 and continued with increasing violence, " 1 hope in the mercy of 
 Heaven, that I shall be in the grave of my ancestors, ere I learn 
 that my son — my only son — the last hope of my ancient house — 
 the last remnant of the name of Peveril — hath consented to receive 
 obhgations from the man on earth I am most bound to hate, were 
 I not still more bound to contemn him I — Degenerate dog-whelp!" 
 he repeated with great vehemence, "you colour, without reply- 
 ing! Speak, and disown such disgrace; or, by the God of my 
 
 fathers" 
 
 The dwarf suddenly stepped forward, and called out, " For- 
 bear!" with a voice at onco so discordant and commanding, thai 
 it sounded supernatural. " Man of sin and pride," he said, "for- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 469 
 
 bear; and call not the name of a holy God, lo witness thine unhal- 
 lowed resentments." 
 
 The rebuke so boldly and decidedly given, and the moral en- 
 thusiasm with which he spoke, gave the despised dwarf an ascen- 
 dency for the moment over the fiery spirit of his gigantic name- 
 sake. Sir Geoffrey Peveril eyed him for an instant askance and 
 shyly, as he might have done a supernatural apparition, and then 
 muttered, "What knowest thou of my cause of wrath?" 
 
 ''Nothing," said the dwarf; — " nothing but this— that no cause 
 can warrant the oath thou wert about to swear. Ungrateful man! 
 thou wert to-day rescued from the devouring wrath of the wicked, 
 by a marvellous conjunction of circumstances — Is this a day, think- 
 est thou, on which to indulge thine own hasty resentments?" 
 
 " I stand rebuked," *said Sir Geoffrey " and by a singular mo- 
 nitor — the grasshopper, as the prayer-book saith, hath become a 
 burden to me. — Julian, I will speak to thee of these matters here- 
 after; and for you. Master Bridgenorth, I desire to have no farther 
 communication with you, either in peace or in anger. Our time 
 passes fast, and I would fain return to my family. Cause our 
 weapons to be restored ; unbar the doors, and let us part without 
 farther altercation, which can but disturb and aggravate our spirits." 
 
 " Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Bridgenorth, "I have no desire to 
 vex your spirit or my own; but, for thus soon dismissing you, that 
 may hardly be, it being a course inconsistent with the work which 
 I have on hand." 
 
 ''How, sir! Do you mean that we should abide here, whether 
 with or against our inclinations?" said the dwarf. "Were it not 
 that I am laid under charge to remain here, by one who hath the 
 best right to command this poor microcosm, I would show thee 
 that bolls and bars are unavailing restraints on such as I am." 
 
 "Truly," said Sir Geoffrey, " I think, upon an emergency, the 
 Utile man might make his escape through the keyhole." 
 
 Bridgenorth's face was moved into something like a smile at the 
 swaggering speech of the pigmy hero, and the contemptuous com- 
 mentary of Sir Geoffrey Peveril; but such an expression never 
 dwelt on his features for two seconds together, and he replied in 
 these words : — "Gentlemen, each and all of you must be fain to 
 content yourselves. Believe me, no hurt is intended towards you; 
 on the contrary, your remaining here will be a means of securing 
 your safety, which would be otherwise deeply endangered. It will 
 be your own fault if a hair of your heads is hurt. But the stronger 
 force is on my side ; and, whatever harm you may meet wilh should 
 you attempt to break forth by violence, the blame must rest wilh 
 yourselves. If you will not believe me, I will permit Master .TuHan 
 Peveril to accompany me, where he shall see that I am provided 
 fully with the means of repressing violence." 
 
470 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 '^Treason! — treason!" exclaimed Ihe old Knight — "Treason 
 against God and King Charles ! — O for one half hour of the broad- 
 sword which I parted wilh like an ass I " 
 
 *' Hold, my father, I conjure you!" said Julian. '^I will go 
 with Master Bridgenorth, since he requests it. I will satisfy myself 
 whether there be danger, and of what nature. His possible I may 
 prevail on him to desist from some desperate measure, if such be 
 indeed in agitation. Should it be necessary, fear not that your son 
 will behave as he ought to do." 
 
 "Do your pleasure, Julian," said his father; "I will confide 
 in thee. But if you betray my confidence, a father's curse shall 
 cleave to you." 
 
 Bridgenorth now motioned to Peveril to follow him, and they 
 passed through the small door by which he had entered. 
 
 The passage led to a vestibule or anteroom, in which several 
 other doors and passages seemed to centre. Through one of these 
 Julian was conducted by Bridgenorth, walking wilh silence atid 
 precaution, in obedience to a signal made by his guide to that 
 effect. As they advanced, he heard sounds, like those of the human 
 voice engaged in urgent and emphatic declamation. With slow 
 and light steps Bridgenorth conducted him through a door which 
 terminated this passage ^ and as he entered a little gallery, having 
 a curtain in front, the sound of the preacher's voice — for such it 
 now seemed — became distinct and audible. 
 
 Julian now doubted not that he was in one of those conventicles, 
 which, though contrary to the existing laws, still continued to be 
 regularly held in different parts of J^ondon and the suburbs. Many 
 of these, as frequented by persons of moderate political principles, 
 though dissenters from the church for conscience's sake, were con- 
 nived at by the prudence or timidity of the government. But 
 some of them, in which assembled the fiercer and more exalted 
 sects of Independents, Anabaptists, Fifth-Monarchy men, and 
 other sectaries, whose stern enthusiasm had contributed so greatly 
 to effect the overthrow of the late King's throne, were sought 
 after, suppressed, and dispersed, whenever they could be discovered. 
 
 Julian was soon satisfied that the meeting into which he was thus 
 secretly introduced, was one of the latter class; and, to judge by 
 the violence of the preacher, of the most desperate character. He 
 was still more effectually convinced of this, when, at a sign from 
 Bridgenorth, he cautiously unclosed a part of the curtain which 
 hung before the gallery, and thus, unseen himself, looked down 
 on the audience, and obtained a view of the preacher. 
 
 About two hundred persons were assembled beneath, in an area 
 filled up with benches, as if for the exercise of worship; and they 
 were all of the male sex, and well armed with pikes and muskets, 
 as well as swords and pistols. Most of them had the appearance 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 41^1 
 
 of veteran soldiers, now past the middle of life, yet retaining such 
 an appearance of strength as might well supply the loss of youthful 
 agility. They stood, or sat, in various altitudes of stern attention ^ 
 and, resting on their spears and muskets, kept their eyes firmly 
 fixed on the preacher, who ended the violence of his declamation 
 by displaying from the pulpit a banner, on which was represented 
 a lion, with the motto, VicitLeo ex tribu Judce.'' 
 
 The torrent of mystical yet animating eloquence of the preacher 
 — an old grey-haired man, whom zeal seemed to supply with the 
 powers of voice and action, of which years had deprived him — was 
 suited to the taste of his audience, but could not be transferred 
 to these pages without scandal and impropriety. He menaced the 
 rulers of England with all the judgments denounced on those of 
 Moab and Assyria — he called upon the saints to be strong, to be up 
 and doing ; and promised those miracles which, in the campaigns 
 of Joshua, and his successors the valiant Judges of Israel, supplied 
 all odds against the Amorites, Midianites, and Philistines. He 
 sounded trumpets, opened vials, broke seals, and denounced ap- 
 proaching judgments under all the mystical signs of the Apocalypse. 
 The end of the world was announced, accompanied with all its 
 preliminary terrors. 
 
 Julian, with deep anxiety, soon heard enough to make him 
 aware, that the meeting was likely to terminate in open insurrec- 
 tion, like that of the Fifth-Monarchy men under Venner, at an 
 earlier period of Charles's reign ; and he was not a little concerned 
 at the probability of Bridgenorth's being implicated in so criminal 
 and desperate an undertaking. If he had retained any doubts of 
 the issue of the meeting, they must have been removed when the 
 preacher called on his hearers to renounce all expectation which 
 had hitherto been entertained of safety to the nation, from the 
 execution of the ordinary laws of the land. This, he said, was at 
 best but a carnal seeking after earthly aid — a going down to Egypt 
 for help, which the jealousy of their Divine Leader would resent 
 as a fleeing to another rock, and a different banner, from that 
 which was this day displayed over them. — And here he solemnly 
 swung the bannered lion over their heads, as the only sign under 
 which they ought to seek for life and safety. He then proceeded 
 to insist, that recourse to ordinary justice was vain as well as sinful. 
 
 " The event of that day at Westminster," he said, '' might teach 
 them that the Man at Whitehall was even as tSe Man his father •," 
 and he closed a long tirade against the vices of the Court, with 
 assurance " that Tophet was ordained of old— for the King it was 
 made hot." 
 
 As the preacher entered on a description of the approaching 
 theocracy, which he dared to prophesy, Bridgenorth, who appeared 
 for a time to have forgotten the presence of Julian, whilst with 
 
472 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 stern and fixed attention he drank in the words of the preacher, 
 seemed suddenly to collect himself, and, taking Julian by the hand, 
 led him out of the gallery, of which he carefully closed Use door, 
 into an apartment at no great distance. 
 
 When they arrived there, he anticipated the expostulations of 
 Julian, by asking him, in a tone of severe triumph, whether these 
 men he had seen were likely to do their work negligently, or 
 whether it would not be perilous to attempt to force their way from a 
 house, when all the avenues were guarded by such as lie had now 
 seen — men of war from their childhood upwards. 
 
 '' In the name of Heaven," said Julian, without replying to 
 Bridgenorlh's question, "for what desperate purpose have you 
 assembled so many desperate men? I am well aware that your sen- 
 timents of reUgion are peculiar^ but beware how you deceive 
 yourself — No views cf religion can sanction rebellion and murder ; 
 and such are the natural and necessary consequences of the doc- 
 trine we have just heard poured into the ears of fanatical and vio- 
 lent enthusiasts." 
 
 "My son," said Bridgenorth, calmly, "in the days of my 
 nonage, I thought as you do. I deemed it sufficient to pay my 
 tithes of cummin and anniseed — my poor petty moral observances 
 of the old law ; and I thought I was heaping up precious things, 
 when they were in value no more than the husks of the swine- 
 trough. Praised be Heaven, the scales are fallen from mine eyes; 
 and after forty years' wandering in the desert of Sinai, I am at 
 length arrived in the land of Promise — My corrupt human nature 
 has left me — I have cast my slough, and can now with some 
 conscience put my hand to the plough, certain that there is no 
 weakness left in me wherethrough I may look back. The furrows," 
 he added, bending his brows, while a gloomy fire filled his large 
 eyes, " must be drawn long and deep, and watered by the blood of 
 the mighty." 
 
 There was a change in Bridgenorth's tone and manner, when 
 he used these singular expressions, which convinced Julian, that 
 his mind, which had wavered for so many years between his na- 
 tural good sense and the insane enthusiasm of the time, had finally 
 given way to the latler •, and, sensible of the danger in which the 
 unhappy man himself, the innocent and beautiful Alice, and his 
 own father, were likely to be placed — to say nothing of the general 
 risk of the community by a sudden insurrection, he at the same 
 lime felt that there was no chance of reasoning effectually with one 
 who would oppose spiritual conviction to all arguments which 
 reason could urge against his wild schemes. To touch his feelings 
 seemed a more probable ressource ; and Julian therefore conjured 
 Bridgenorth to think how much his daughter's honour and safety 
 were concerned in his abstaining from the dangerous course which 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 473 
 
 he meditated. " If you fall," he said, " must she not pass under 
 the power and guardianship of her uncle, whom you allow to have 
 shown himself capable of the grossest mistake in the choice of her 
 female protectress ; and whom I believe, upon good grounds, to 
 have made that infamous choice with his eyes open ?" 
 
 ''Young man," answered Bridgenorlh, "you make me feel 
 like the poor bird, around whose wing some wanton boy has fixed 
 a line, to pull the struggling wretch to earth at his pleasure. Know, 
 since thou wilt play this cruel part, and drag me down from higher 
 contemplations, that she wilh whom Alice is placed, and who hath 
 in future full power to guide her motions and decide her fate, des- 
 pite of Christian and every one else, is — I will not tell thee who she 
 is — Enough — no one — thou least of all, needs to l"ear for her safely.'' 
 
 At this moment a side-door opened, and Christian himself came 
 into the apartment. He started and coloured when he saw Julian 
 Peveril; then turning to Bridgenorth with an assumed air of indiffe- 
 rence, asked, " Is Saul among the prophets? — Is a Peveril among 
 the saints?" 
 
 "No, brother," replied Bridgenorlh, "his time is not come, 
 more than thine own— -thou art too deep in the ambitious intrigues 
 of manhood, and he in the giddy passions of youth, to hear the 
 still calm voice — You will both hear it, as I trust and pray." 
 
 " Master Ganlesse, or Christian, or by whatever name you are 
 called," said Julian, "by whatever reasons you guide yourself in 
 this most perilous matter, yow at least are not influenced by any idea 
 of an immediate divine command for commencing hoslihties against 
 the state. Leaving, therefore, for the present, whatever subjects of 
 discussion may be between us, I implore you as a man of shrewd- 
 ness and sense, to join with me in dissuading Master Bridgenorth 
 from Ihe fatal enterprise which he now meditates." 
 
 " Young gentleman," said Christian, with great composure, 
 " when we met in the west, I was willing to have made a friend of 
 you, but you rejected the overture. You might, however, even then 
 have seen enough of me to be assured, that I am not likely to rush 
 too rashly on any desperate undertaking. As to this which hes 
 before us, my brother Bridgenorth brings to it the simplicity, 
 though not the harmlessness of the dove, and I the subtility of the 
 serpent. He hath the leading of saints who are moved by the spi- 
 rit -, and I can add to their efforts a powerful body, who have for 
 their instigators, the world, the devil, and the flesh." 
 
 "And can you," said Julian, looking at Bridgenorlh, " accede to 
 such an unworthy union?" 
 
 "I unite not with them," said Bridgenorth, "but I may not, 
 without guilt, reject the aid which Providence sends to assist his 
 servants. We are ourselves few, though determined — Those whose 
 swords come to help the cutting down of the harvest, must be wel- 
 
474 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 come— When Iheir work is wrought, they will be converted or 
 scattered.— Have you been at York -Place, brother, with that 
 unstable epicure? We must have his last resolution, and that 
 within an hour." 
 
 Christian looked at Julian, as if his presence prevented him from 
 returning an answer-, upon which Bridgenorlh arose, and taking 
 the young man by the arm, led him out of the apartment, into that 
 in which they had left his father ; assuring him by the way, that 
 determined and.vigilant guards were placed in every different quar- 
 ter by which escape could be effected, and that he would do well 
 to persuade his father to remain a quiet prisoner for a few hours. 
 
 Julian returned him no answer, and Bridgenorlh presently retired, 
 leaving him alone with his father and Hudson. To their questions 
 he could only briefly reply, that he feared they were trepanned, 
 since they were in the house v/ith at least two hundred fanatics, 
 completely armed, and apparently prepared for some desperate 
 enterprise. Their own want of arms precluded the possibility of 
 open violence •, and however unpleasant it might be to remain in 
 such a condition, it seemed difficult, from the strength of the fas- 
 tenings at doors and windows, to attempt any secret escape without 
 instantaneous detection. 
 
 The valiant dwarf alone nursed hopes, with which he in vain 
 endeavoured to inspire his companions in affliction. " The fair one 
 whose eyes," he said, " were like the twin stars of Leda"' — for the 
 little man was a great admirer of lofty language — '' had not invi- 
 ted him, the most devoted, and, it might be, not the least favoured 
 of her servants, into this place as a harbour, in order that he might 
 therein suffer shipwreck :^ and he generously assured his friends, 
 that in his safety they also should be safe." 
 
 Sir Geoffrey, little cheered by this intimation, expressed his 
 despair at not being able to get the length of Whitehall, where he 
 trusted to find as many jolly Cavaliers as would help him to stifle the 
 whole nest of wasps in their hive 5 while Julian was of opinion that 
 the best service he could now render Bridgenorth, — would be 
 timeously to disclose his plot, and, if possible, to send him at the 
 same time warning to save his person. 
 
 But we must leave them to meditate over their plans at leisure^ 
 no one of which, as they all depended on their previous escape 
 from confinement, seemed in any great chance of being executed. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 475 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 And some for safety took the dreadful leap ; 
 Some for the voice of Heaven seem'd calling on them ; 
 Some for advancement, or for lucre's sake— 
 ^ • •''^^' J jeap'fj jQ frolic. 
 
 m&^MKm The Dream. 
 
 After a private conversation with Bridgenorlh, Christian has- 
 tened to the Duke of Buckingham's hotel, taking at the same time 
 such a route as to avoid meeting with any acquaintance. He was 
 ushered into the apartment of the Duke, whom he found cracking 
 and eating filberts, with a flask of excellent white-wine at his elbow. 
 *' Christian," said his Grace, " come help me to laugh — I have bit 
 Sir Charles Sedley— flung him for a thousand, by the gods I " 
 
 '' I am glad at your luck, my Lord Duke, replied Christian^ 
 *'but I am come here on serious business." 
 
 '' Serious ? — why, I shall hardly be serious in my life again — ha, 
 ha, ha !— and for luck, it was no such thing — sheer wit, and ex- 
 cellent contrivance ^ and but that I don't care to affront Fortune, 
 like the old Greek general, I might tell her to her face — In this 
 thou hadst no share. You have heard, Ned Christian, that Mother 
 Creswell is dead?" 
 
 '* Yes, I did hear that the devil hath got his due," answered 
 Christian. 
 
 *'Well," said IheDuke, ''you are ungrateful; for I know you 
 have been obliged to her, as well as others. Before George, a most 
 benevolent and helpful old Lady 5 and that she might not sleep in 
 an unblest grave, I betted — do you mark me — with Sedley, that 1 
 would write her funeral-sermon ; that it should be every word in 
 praise of her life and conversation ; that it should be all true, and 
 yet that the diocesan should be unable to lay his thumb on Quod- 
 ling, my little chaplain, who should preach it." 
 
 "I perfectly see the difficulty, my Lord," said Christian, who 
 well knew that if he wished to secure attention from this volatile 
 nobleman, he must first suffer, nay, encourage him, to exhaust 
 the topic, whatever it might be, that had got temporary posses- 
 sion of his pineal gland. 
 
 "Why," said the Duke, "I caused my httle Quodling to go 
 through his oration thus — ' That whatever evil reports had passed 
 current during the lifetime of the worthy matron whom they had 
 restored to dust that day, malice itself could not deny that she was 
 born well, married well, lived well, and died well ; since she was 
 born in Shadwell, married to Cresswell, lived in Camberwell, and 
 died in Bridewell, ' Here ended the oration, and with it Sedlcy's 
 
476 PEVERIL OF THE PEAR. 
 
 ambitious hopes of overreaching Buckingham — ha, lia, ha I — And 
 now, Master Christian, what are your commands for me to-day?" 
 
 "First to thank your grace for being so attentive as to send so 
 formidable a person as Colonel Blood, to wail upon your poor friend 
 and servant. Faith, he took such an interest in my leaving town, 
 that he wanted to compel me to do it at point of fox, so I was 
 obliged to spill a little of his malapert blood. Your Grace's swords- 
 men have had ill luck of late ^ and it is hard, since you always 
 choose the best hands, and such scrupleless knaves too." 
 
 "Come now. Christian," said the Duke, "do not thus exult 
 over me^ a great man, if I may so call myself, is never greater 
 than amid miscarriage. I only played this little trick on you, 
 Christian, to impress on you a wholesome idea of the interest I 
 take in your motions. The scoundrel's having dared to draw upon 
 you, is a thing not to be forgiven. — What ! injure my old friend, 
 Christian?" 
 
 "And whf not," said Christian, coolly, " if your old friend was 
 so stubborn as not to go out of town, like a good boy when your 
 Grace required him to do so, for the civil purpose of entertaining 
 his niece in his absence ? " 
 
 "How — what!— how do you mean by my entertaining your 
 niece, Master Christian ? " said the Duke. " She was a personage 
 far beyond my poor attentions, being destined, if I recollect aright, 
 to something like royal favour." 
 
 " It was her fate, however, to be the guest of your Grace's con- 
 vent for a brace of days, or so. Marry, my Lord, the father con- 
 fessor was not at home, and — for convents have been scaled of late 
 — returned not till the bird was flown." 
 
 " Christian, thou art an old reynard — I see there is no doubling 
 with thee. It was thou, then, stole away my pretty prize, but left 
 me something so much prettier in my mind, that, had it not made 
 itself wings to fly away with, I would have placed it in a cage of 
 gold. Never be downcast, man^ I forgive thee — I forgive thee." 
 
 "Your Grace is of a most merciful disposition, especially con- 
 sidering it is I who have had the wrong ^ and sages have said, that 
 he who doth the injury, is less apt to forgive than he who only 
 sustains it." 
 
 "True, true, Christian," said the Duke, "which, as you say, 
 is something quite new, and places my clemency in a striking point 
 of view. Well, then, thou forgiven man, when shall I see my Mau- 
 ritanian princess again ? " 
 
 " Whenever I am certain that a quibble, and a carwhichit, or a 
 play or a sermon, will not banish her from your Grace's memory." 
 
 "Not all the wit of South, or of Etherege," said Buckingham, 
 hastily, " to say nothing of my own, shall in future make me 
 oblivious of what I owe the Morisco princess." 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 477 
 
 '' Yet to leave ttie fair lady out of thought for a little while'-^a 
 very little while,'* said Christian, " since I swear that in due time 
 your Grace shall see her, and know in her the most extraordinary 
 woman that the age has produced— to leave her, I say, out of sight 
 for a litlle while, has your Grace had late notice of your Duchess's 
 health?" 
 
 " Health ! " said the Duke. '' Umph— no— nothing particular. 
 She has been ill — but" 
 
 '' She is no longer so," subjoined Christian ^ "she died in York- 
 shire forty-eight hours since." 
 
 " Thou must deal with the devil! " said the Duke. 
 
 " It would ill become one of my name to do so," replied Chris- 
 tian. " But in the brief interval since your Grace hath known of 
 an event which has not yet reached the public ear, you have, I be- 
 lieve, made proposals to the King for the hand of the Lady Anne, 
 second daughter? of the Duke of York, and your Grace's proposals 
 have been rejected." 
 
 '' Fiends and firebrands, villain ! " said the Duke, starting up and 
 seizing Christian by the collar-, " who hath told thee that?" 
 
 "Take your hand from my cloak, my Lord Duke, and I may 
 answer you," said Christian. " I have a scurvy touch of old puri- 
 tanical humour about me, I abide not the imposition of hands. 
 Take off your grasp from my cloak, or I will find means to make 
 you unloose it." 
 
 The Duke, who had kept his right hand on his dagger-hiit while 
 he held Christian's collar with his left, unloosed it as he spoke, but 
 slowly, and as one who rather suspends than abandons the execu- 
 tion of some hasty impulse ^ while Christian, adjusting his cloak 
 with perfect composure, said, " Soh— my cloak being at liberty, 
 we speak on equal terms. I come not to insult your Grace, but to 
 offer you vengeance for the insult you have received." 
 
 " Vengeance ! " said (he Duke — " It is the dearest proffer man 
 can present to me in my present mood. I hunger for vengeance — 
 thirst for vengeance — could die to ensure vengeance! — 'Sdeath ! " 
 he continued, walking up and down the large apartment with the 
 most unrestrained and violent agitation ^ " I have chased this re- 
 pulse out of my brain with ten thousand trifles, because I thought 
 no one knew it. But it is known, and to thee, the very common- 
 sewer of Court secrets — the honour of Villiers is in thy keeping. 
 Ned Christian I Speak, thou man of wiles and of intrigue — on whom 
 dost thou promise the vengeance? Speak! and if thy answers meet 
 my desires, I will make a bargain with thee as willingly as with 
 thy master Satan himself." 
 
 " I will not be," said Christian, " so unreasonable in my terms 
 as stories tell of the old apostate ; I will offer your Grace, as he 
 might do, temporal prosperity and revenge, which is his frequent 
 
478 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 recruiting money, but I leave it to yourself to provide, as you may 
 be pleased, for your future salvation." 
 
 The Duke, gazing upon him fixedly and sadly, replied, " I would 
 to God, Christian, that I could read what purpose of damnable 
 villainy thou hast to propose to me in thy countenance, without the 
 necessity of thy using words ! " 
 
 " Your Grace can but try a guess," said Christian, calmly smiling. 
 
 "• No," replied the Duke, after gazing at him again for the space 
 of a minute ; " thou art so deeply dyed an hypocrite, that thy mean 
 features, and clear grey eye, are as likely to conceal treason, as 
 any petty scheme of theft or larceny, more corresponding to your 
 degree." 
 
 "Treason, my lord? " echoed Christian ; " you may have guessed 
 more nearly than you were aware of. I honour your Grace's pene- 
 tration." 
 
 " Treason ! " echoed the Duke. '^ Who dare name such a crime 
 to me ? " 
 
 " If a name startles your Grace, you may call it vengeance — 
 vengeance on the cabal of counsellors, who have ever countermined 
 you, in spite of your wit and your interest with the King. — Ven- 
 geance on Arlington, Ormond — on Charles himself." 
 
 " No, by Heaven," said the Duke, resuming his disordered walk 
 through the apartment.' — " Vengeance on these rats of the Privy 
 Council, — come at it as you will. But the King I — never— never. 
 I have provoked him a hundred times, where he has stirred me 
 once. I have crossed his path in stale intrigue — rivalled him in 
 love—had the advantage in both, — and, d — n it, he has forgiven 
 me ! If treason would put me in his throne, I have no apology for 
 it — it were worse than bestial ingratitude." 
 
 '' Nobly spoken, my lord," said Christian 5 " and consistent alike 
 with the obligations under which your Grace lies to Charles Stewart, 
 and the sense you have ever shown of them. — But it signifies not. 
 If your Grace patronise not our enterprise, there is Shaftesbury — 
 there is Monmouth" 
 
 " Scoundrel ! " exclaimed the Duke, even more vehemently agi- 
 tated than before, " think you that you shall carry on with others 
 an enterprise which I have refused? — No, by every heathen and 
 every Christian god ! — Hark ye. Christian, I will arrest you on the 
 spot — I will, by gods and devils, and carry you to unravel your 
 plot at Whitehall." 
 
 *^ Where the first words I speak," answered the imperturbable 
 Christian, " will be to inform the Privy Council in what place they 
 may find certain letters, wherewith your Grace has honoured your 
 poor vassal, containing, as I think, particulars which his Majesty 
 will read with more surprise than pleasure." 
 
 '* 'Sdealh, villain ! " said the Duke, once more laying his hand 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 479 
 
 on his poniard-hilt, '^ Ihou hast me again at advantage. I know not 
 why I forbear to poniard you where you stand! " 
 
 *' I might fall, my lord Duke," said Christian, slightly colour- 
 ing, and putting his right hand into his bosom, "•' though not, I 
 think, unavenged— for I have not put my person into this peril 
 altogether without means of defence. I might fall, but, alas! your 
 Grace's correspondence is in hands, which, by that very act, would 
 be rendered sufficiently active in handing them to the King and the 
 Privy Council. What say you to the Moorish Princess, my Lord 
 Duke? What if I have left her executrix of my will, with certain 
 instructions how to proceed if I return not unharmed from York- 
 Place? O, my lord, though my head is in the wolfs mouth, I was 
 not goose enough to place it there without settling how many cara- 
 bines should be fired on the wolf, so soon as my dying cackle was 
 heard. ^ — Pshaw, my Lord Duke ! you deal with a man of sense and 
 courage, yet you speak to him as a child and a coward," 
 
 The Duke threw himself into a chair, fixed his eyes on the ground, 
 and spoke without raising them. " I am about to call Jerningham," 
 he said^ *' but fear nothing — it is only for a draught of wine — 
 That stuff on the table may be a vehicle for filberts and walnuts, 
 but not for such communications as yours.*— Bring me champagne," 
 he said to the attendant who answered on his summons. 
 
 The domestic returned, and brought a flask of champagne, with 
 two large silver cups^. One of them he filled for Buckingham, who, 
 contrary to the usual etiquette, was always served first at home^ 
 and then offered the other to Christian, who declined to receive it. 
 
 The Duke drank off the large goblet which was presented to him, 
 and for a moment covered his forehead with the palm of his hand ; 
 then instantly withdrew it, and said, " Christian, speak your errand 
 plainly. We know each other. If my reputation be in some degree 
 in your hands, you are well aware that your life is in mine. Sit 
 down," he said, taking a pistol from his bosom and laying it on the 
 table — " Sit down, and let me hear your proposal." 
 
 "- My lord," said Christian, smiling, " I shall produce no such 
 ultimate argument on my part, though possibly, in time of need, I 
 may not be found destitute of them. But my defence is in the situa- 
 tion of things, and in the composed view which, doubtless, your 
 Majesty will take of them." 
 
 " Majesty!" repeated the Duke — " My good friend Christian, 
 you have kept company with the Puritans so long, that you confuse 
 the ordinary titles of the Court." 
 
 " I know not how to apologize," said Christian, " unless your 
 Grace will suppose that I spoke by prophecy." 
 
 ** Such as the devil delivered to Macbeth," said the Duke— again 
 paced the chamber, and again seated himself, and said, " Be plain. 
 Christian— speak out at once, and manfully, what is it you intend ?" 
 
480 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 "/," said Christian — " Wiiat should I do?— -I can do nothing 
 in such a matter-, but I thought it right that your Grace should 
 know that the godly of this city" — (he spoke the word with a kind 
 of ironical grin) — '' are impatient of inactivity, and must needs be 
 up and doing. My brother Bridgenorth is at the head of all old 
 Weiver's congregation ^ for you must know, that after floundering 
 from one faith to another, he hath now got beyond ordinances, and 
 is become a Fifth-Monarchy man. He has nigh two hundred of 
 Weiver's people, fully equipped, and ready to fall on •, and, with 
 slight aid from your Grace's people, they must carry Whitehall, and 
 make prisoners of all within it." 
 
 " Rascal! " said the Duke, " and is it to a Peer of England you 
 make this communication ?" 
 
 " Nay," answered Christian, " I admit it would be extreme folly 
 in your Grace to appear until all is over. But let me give Blood 
 and the others a hint on your part. There are the four Germans 
 also— right Knipperdolings and Anabaptists — will be specially use- 
 ful. You are wise, my lord, and know the value of a corps of do- 
 mestic gladiators, as well as did Octavius, Lepidus, and Antony, 
 when, by such family forces, they divided the world by indenture 
 tripartite." 
 
 " Stay, stay, " said the Duke. " Even if these bloodhounds were 
 to join with you — not that I would permit it without the most 
 positive assurances for the King's personal safety — but say the 
 villains were to join, what hope have you of carrying the Court?" 
 
 " Bully Tom Armstrong % my lord, hath promised his interest 
 with the Life-Guards. Then there are my Lord Shaftesbury's brisk 
 boys in the city — thirty thousand on the holding up a finger. " 
 
 " Let him hold up both hands, and if he count a hundred for 
 each finger, " said the Duke, '' it will be more than I expect. You 
 have not spoken to him ? " 
 
 " Surely not, till your Grace's pleasure was known. But, if he 
 is not applied to, there is the Dutch train, Hans Snorehout's con- 
 gregation, in the Strand — there are the French Protestants in 
 Piccadilly — there are the Family of Levi in Lewkenor's-lane — the 
 Muggletonians in Thames-street" 
 
 "Ah, faugh! — Out upon them—out upon them! — How the 
 knaves will stink of cheese and tobacco when they come upon 
 action ! — they will drown all the perfumes in Whitehall. Spare me 
 the detail \ and let me know, my dearest Ned, the sum total of thy 
 most odoriferous forces." 
 
 Fifteen hundred men, well armed," said Christian, *' besides 
 
 (( 
 
 ' Thomas, or Sir Thomas Armstrong, a person who had distinguished himself in youth 
 by duels and drunken exploits. He was particularly connected with the Duke of Mon- 
 mouth, and was said to be concerned in the Rye-llouse Plot, for which he suflercd 
 (capital punishment, 20th June, 1684. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 481 
 
 Ihe rabble that will rise to a certainty — tbey have already nearly 
 torn to pieces the prisoners who were this day acquitted on account 
 of the Plot." 
 
 " All, then, I understand. — And now, hark ye, most Christian 
 Christian," said he, wheeling his chair full in front of that on which 
 his agent was sealed, " you have told me many things to-day — 
 Shall I be equally communicative? Shall I show you that my 
 accuracy of information matches yours ? Shall I tell you, in a word, 
 why you have at once resolved to push every one, from the Puritan 
 to the free-thinker, upon a general attack of the Palace at White- 
 hall, without allowing me, a peer of the realm, time either to pause 
 upon or to prepare for a step so desperate ? Shall I tell you why 
 you would lead or drive, seduce or compel me, into countenancing 
 your measures?" 
 
 " My lord, if you please to form a guess," said Christian, '* I 
 will answer with all sincerity, if you have assigned the right cause." 
 
 " The Counless of Derby is this day arrived, and attends the 
 Court this evening, with hopes of the kindest reception. She may 
 be surprised amid the m^l^e? — Ha! Said I not right. Master Chris- 
 tian? You, who pretend to offer me revenge, know yourself its 
 exquisite sweetness." 
 
 " I would not presume," said Christian, half smiling, " to offer 
 your Grace a dish, without acting as your taster as well as pur- 
 veyor." 
 
 ''That's honestly said," said the Duke. " Away then, my 
 friend. Give Blood this ring — he knows it, and knows how to obey 
 him who bears il. Lei him assemble my gladiators, as thou dost 
 most wittily term my coupe-j arrets. The old scheme of the German 
 music may be resorted to, for I think thou hast the instruments 
 ready. But take notice, I know nothing on't •, and Rowley's person 
 must be safe — I will hang and burn on all hands if a hair of his 
 black periwig ' be but singed.— Then what is to follow— a Lord 
 Protector of the realm — or slay— Cromwell has made the word 
 somewhat slovenly and unpopular— a Lord Lieutenant of the 
 Kingdom?— The patriots, who take it on themselves to revenge 
 the injustice done to the country, and to remove evil counsellors 
 from before the King's throne, that it may be henceforward esta- 
 blished in righteousness— so I think the rubric runs— cannot fail 
 to make a fitting choice." 
 
 '' They cannot, my Lord Duke," said Christian, '' since there is 
 but one man in the three kingdoms on whom that choice can pos- 
 sibly fall." 
 
 « Charles, to suit his dark complexiou, always wore a black peruke. Reused to say of 
 the players, that if they wished to represent a villain on the stage, Oddsnsd, iney 
 always clapp'd on him a black periwig, whereas the greatest rogue in England (meaning, 
 probably, Dr. Gates) wears a white one,"— See Gibber's Apologij. 
 
482 PEVElllL OF THE PE.\K. 
 
 " I thank you, Chrislian," said his Grace; '^ and I trust you. 
 Away, and make all ready. Be assured your services shall not be 
 forgot. We will have you near lo us." 
 
 " My Lord Duke, " said Christian, " you bind me doubly lo you. 
 Bui remember, that as your Grace is spared any obnoxious pro- 
 ceedings which may befall in the way of military execution, or 
 otherwise, so it will be advisable that you hold yourself in prepa- 
 ration, upon a moment's notice, to put yourself at the head of a 
 band of honourable friends and allies, and come presently to the 
 palace, where you will be received by the victors as a commander, 
 and by the vanquished as a preserver." 
 
 " I conceive you — I conceive you. I will be in prompt readi- 
 ness," said the Duke. 
 
 " Ay, my lord," continued Christian ^ " and, for Heaven's sake, 
 lei none of those toys, which are the very Delilahs of your ima- 
 gination, come across your Grace this evening, and interfere with 
 the execution of this sublime scheme." 
 
 ''Why, Christian, dost think me mad?" was his Grace's emphatic 
 reply. " It is you who linger, when all should be ordered for a 
 deed so daring. Go then, — But hark ye, Ned ; ere you go, tell 
 me when I shall again see yonder thing of fire and air — yon Eastern 
 Peri , that glides into apartments by the keyhole, and leaves them 
 through the casement— yon black-eyed houri of the Mahometan 
 paradise — when, I say, shall I see her once more ?" 
 
 " When your Grace has the truncheon of Lord Lieutenant of the 
 Kingdom, " said Christian, and left the apartment. 
 
 Buckingham stood fixed in contemplation for a moment after he 
 was gone. '^ Should I have done this ? " he said, arguing the matter 
 with himself; '*^ or had I the choice, rather, of doing aught else? 
 Should I not hasten to the Court, and make Ctiarles aware cf the 
 treason which besets him? I will, by Heaven !— Here, Jerningham, 
 my coach, with the dispatch of light! — I will throw myself at his 
 feet, and tell him of all the follies which I have dreamed of with 
 this Christian. — And then he will laugh at me, and spurn me? — 
 — No, I have kneeled lo him to-day already, and my repulse was 
 nothing gentle. To be spurned once in the sun's daily round is 
 enough for Buckingham." 
 
 Having made this reflection, he seated himself, and began hastily 
 lo mark down the young nobles and gentlemen of quality, and 
 others, their very ignoble companions, who he supposed might be 
 likely to assume him for their leader in any popular disturbance. 
 He had nearly completed it, when Jerningham entered, to say the 
 coach would be ready in an instant, and to bring his master's sword, 
 hat, and cloak. 
 
 "Let the coachman draw off," said the Duke, ''but be in 
 readiness. And send to the gentlemen thou wilt find named in this 
 
PEVERIL OF tHE PEAK. 4g5 
 
 list ; say I am but ill at ease, and wish their company to a slight 
 collation. Let instant expedition be made, and care not for 
 expense ; you will find most of them at the Club-House in Fuller's 
 Rents \ " 
 
 The preparations for festivity were speedily made, and the in- 
 tended guests, most of them persons who were at leisure for any 
 call that promised pleasure, though sometimes more deaf to those 
 of duty, began speedily to assemble. There were many youths of 
 the higtiest rank, and with them, as is usual in those circles, many 
 of a different class, whom talents, or impudence, or wit, or a turn 
 for gambling, had reared up into companions for the great and the 
 gay. The Duke of Buckingham was a general patron of persons of 
 this description-, and a numerous attendance took place on the 
 present occasion. 
 
 The festivity was pursued with the usual appliances of wine, 
 music, and games of hazard 5 with which, however, there mingled 
 in that period much more wit, and a good deal more gross pro- 
 fligacy of conversation, than the talents of the present generation 
 can supply, or their taste would permit. 
 
 The Duke himself proved the complete command which he pos- 
 sessed over his versatile character, by maintaining the frolic, the 
 laugh, and the jest, while his ear caught up, and with eagerness, 
 the most distant sounds, as intimating the commencement of Chris- 
 tian's revolutionary project. Such sounds were heard from lime to 
 lime, and from time to time they died away, without any of those 
 consequences which Buckingham expected. 
 
 At length, and when it was late in the evening, Jerningham an- 
 nounced Master Chiffinch from the Court 5 and that worthy per- 
 sonage followed the annunciation. 
 
 ''Strange things have happened, my Lord Duke," he said; 
 " your presence at Court is instantly required by his Majesty." 
 
 " You alarm me," said Buckingham, standing up. " I hope 
 nothing has happened — 1 hope there is nothing wrong — I hope his 
 Majesty is well?" 
 
 " Perfectly well," said Chiffinch ; ''and desirous to see your Grace 
 without a moment's delay." 
 
 " This is sudden," said the Duke. " You see I have had merry 
 fellows about me, and am scarce in case to appear, Chiffinch." 
 
 "Your Grace seems to be in very handsome plight, said Chif- 
 finch ; "and you know his Majesty is gracious enough to make 
 allowances." 
 
 1 The place of meeting of the Green Ribbon Club, "Their place of meeting," says 
 Roger North, " was a sort of Carrefour at Chancery-lane, in a centre of business and 
 company most proper for such anglers of fools. The house was double balconied in front, 
 as may yet he seen, for the clubbers to issue forth in fresco, with hats and no perukes, 
 pipes in their mouths, merry faces, and dilated throats for vocal encouragement of the 
 «anaglia below on usual and unusual occasions." 
 
484 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " True," said the Duke, not a lillle anxious in his mind, touch- 
 ing the cause of this unexpected summons — '* True — his Majesty 
 is most gracious— I will order my coach.'' 
 
 "Mine is below," replied the royal messenger; "it will save 
 time, if your Grace will condescend to use it." 
 
 Forced from every evasion, Buckingham look a goblet from the 
 table, and requested his friends to remain at his palace so long as 
 they could find the means of amusement there. He expected, he 
 said, to return almost immediately ; if not, he would take farewell 
 of them with his usual toast, " May all of us that are not hanged 
 in the interval, meet together again here on the first Monday of 
 next month." 
 
 This standing toast of the Duke bore reference to the character of 
 several of his guests ; but he did not drink it on the present occa- 
 sion without some anlicipalion concerning his own fa(e, in case 
 Christian had betrayed him. He hastily made some addition to his 
 dress, and attended Chiffinch in the chariot to Whitehall. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 High feasting was there there— the gilded roofs 
 Rung to the wassail-health— the dancer's step 
 Sprung to the chord responsive— the gay gamester 
 To fate's disposal flung his heap of gold, 
 And laugh'd alike when it increased or lessen'd . 
 Such virtue hath court-air to teach us patience 
 Which schoolmen preach in vain. 
 
 Why come ye not to Court ? 
 
 Upon the afternoon of this eventful day, Charles held his Court 
 in the Queen's apartments, which were opened at a particular hour 
 to invited guests of a certain lower degree, but accessible without 
 restriction to the .higher classes of nobility, who had from birth, 
 and to the courtiers who held by office, the privilege of the entree. 
 
 It was one part of Charles's character, which unquestionably 
 rendered him personally popular, and postponed to a subsequent 
 reign the precipitation of his family from the throne, that he ba- 
 nished from his Court many of the formal restrictions with which 
 it was in other reigns surrounded. He was conscious of the good- 
 natured grace of his manners, and trusted to it, often not in vain, 
 to remove evil impressions arising from actions, which he was 
 sensible could not be justified on the grounds of liberal or national 
 policy. 
 
 In the daytime the King was commonly seen in the public walks 
 alone, or only attended by one or two persons; and his answer to 
 the remonstrance of his brother, on the risk of thus exposing his 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. >i85 
 
 person, is well known ; — " beiicve me, James," he said, " no one 
 will murder me, to make you King." 
 
 In the same manner, Charles's evenings, unless such as were 
 destined to more secret pleasures, were frequently spent amongst 
 all who had any prelence to approach a courtly circle^ and thus it 
 was upOn the night which we are treating of. Queen Catherine, 
 reconciled or humbled to her fate, had long ceased to express any 
 feelings of jealousy, nay, seemed so absolutely dead to such a 
 passion, that she received at her drawing-room, without scruple, 
 and even with encouragement, the Duchesses of Portsmouth and 
 Cleveland, and others, who enjoyed, though in a less avowed cha- 
 racter, the credit of having been royal favourites. Constraint of 
 every kind was banished from a circle so composed, and which was 
 frequented at the same time, if not by the wisest, at least by the 
 wittiest courtiers, who ever assembled round a monarch, and who, 
 as many of them had shared the wants, and shifts, and frolics ot his 
 exile, had thus acquired a sort of prescriptive licence, which the 
 good-natured prince, when he attained his period of prosperity, 
 could hardly have restrained had it suited his temper to do so. 
 This, however, was the least of Charles's thoughts. His manners 
 were such as secured him from indelicate obtrusion-, and he sought 
 no other protection from over-familiarity, than what these and his 
 ready wit afforded him. 
 
 On the present occasion, he was peculiarly disposed to enjoy the 
 scene of pleasure which had been prepared. The singular death 
 of Major Coleby, which, taking place in his own presence, had 
 proclaimed, with the voice of a passing bell, the ungrateful neglect 
 of the Prince for whom he had sacrificed every thing, had given 
 Charles much pain. But, in his own opinion at least, he had com- 
 pletely atoned for this negligence, by the trouble which he had 
 taken for Sir Geoffrey Peveril and his son, whose liberalion he 
 looked upon not only as an excellent good deed in itself, but, in 
 spite of the grave rebuke of Ormond, as achieved in a very par- 
 donable manner, considering the difficulties with which he was 
 surrounded. He even felt a degree of satisfaction on receiving in- 
 telligence from the city that there had been disturbances in the 
 streets, and that some of the more violent fanatics had betaken 
 themselves to their meeting-houses, upon sudden summons, to 
 enquire, as their preachers phrased it, into the causes of Heaven's 
 wrath, and into the backsliding of the Court, lawyers, and jury, by 
 whom the false and bloody favourers of the Popish Plot were 
 screened and cloaked from deserved punishment. 
 
 The King, we repeat, seemed to hear these accounts with plea- 
 sure, even when he was reminded of the dangerous and susceptible 
 character of those with whom such suspicions originated. " Will 
 any one now assert," he said, with self-complacence, "that I am 
 
486 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 SO utterly negligent of the interest of friends? — You see the peril 
 in which I place myself, and even the risk to which J have exposed 
 the public peace, to rescue a man whom I have scarce seen for 
 twenty years, and then only in his buff-coat and bandoleers, with 
 other Train-Band officers who kissed hands upon the Restoration. 
 They say kings have long hands — I think they have as much occa- 
 sion for long memories, since they are expected to watch over and 
 reward every man in England, who hath but shown his good-will 
 by crying, 'God save the King I'" 
 
 " Nay, the rogues are even more unreasonable still," said Sedley ; 
 *' for every knave of Ihem thinks himself entitled to your Majesty's 
 protection in a good cause, whether be has cried God save the King 
 or no." 
 
 The King smiled, and turned to another part of the stately hall, 
 where every thing was assembled which could, according to the 
 taste of the age, make the time glide pleasantly away. 
 
 In one place, a group of the young nobility, and of the ladies of 
 the Court, listened to the reader's acquaintance Empson, who was 
 accompanying, with his unrivalled breathings on the flute, a young 
 siren, who, while her bosom palpitated with pride and with fear, 
 warbled to the courtly and august presence the beautiful air, be- 
 ginning, 
 
 '* Young I am, and yet unskill'd 
 How to make a lover yield," etc. 
 
 She performed her task in a manner so corresponding with the 
 strains of the amatory poet, and the voluptuous air with which the 
 words had been invested by the celebrated Purcel, that the men 
 crowded around in ecstasies, while most of the ladies thought it 
 proper eilher to look extremely indifferent to the words she sung, 
 or to withdraw from the circle as quietly as possible. To the song 
 succeeded a concerto, performed by a select band of most admi- 
 rable musicians, which the King, whose taste was indisputable, had 
 himself selected. 
 
 At other tables in the apartment, the elder courtiers worshipped 
 Fortune, at the various fashionable games of ombre, quadrille, 
 hazard, and the like-, while heaps of gold which lay before the 
 players, augmented or dwindled with every turn of a card or cast 
 of a die. Many a year's rent of fair estates was ventured upon the 
 main or the odds •, which, spent in the old deserted manor-house, 
 had repaired the ravages of Cromwell upon its walls, and replaced 
 Ihe sources of good housekeeping and hospitality, that, exhausted 
 in the last age by fine and sequestration, were now in a fair way 
 of being annihilated by careless prodigality. Elsewhere, under 
 cover of observing the gamester, or listening to the music, the gal- 
 lantries of that all-licensed age were practised among the gay and 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 487 
 
 fair, closely walchod the whilst by the ugly or the old. who pro- 
 mised Ihemselves at least the pleasure of observing, and it may be 
 that of proclaiming, intrigues in which they could not be sharers. 
 
 From one table to another glided the merry Monarch, exchanging 
 now a glance with a Court beauty, now a jest with a Court wit, now 
 beating lime to the music, and anon losing or winning a few pieces 
 of gold on the chance of the game to which he s'ood nearest^ — the 
 most amiable of voluptuaries — the gayest and best-natured of com- 
 panions — the man that would, of all others, have best sustained his 
 character, had life been a continued banquet, and its only end to 
 enjoy the passing hour, and send it away as pleasantly as might be. 
 
 But Kings are least of all exempted from the ordinary lot of hu- 
 manity •, and Seged of Ethiopia is, amongst monarchs, no solitary 
 example of the vanity of reckoning on a day or an hour of undis- 
 turbed serenity. An attendant on the Court announced suddenly to 
 their Majesties that a lady, who would only announce herself as a 
 Peeress of England, desired to be admitted into the presence. 
 
 The Queen said, hastily, it was impossible. No peeress, without 
 announcing her title, was entitled to the privilege of her rank. 
 
 " I could be sworn,' said a nobleman in attendance, " that it is 
 some whim of the Duchess of Newcastle." 
 
 The attendant, who brought the message, said that he did indeed 
 believe it to be the Duchess, both from the singularity of the mes- 
 sage, and that the lady spoke with somewhat a foreign accent. 
 
 "In the name of madness, then," said the King, -'let us admit her. 
 Her Grace is an entire raree-show in her own person— a universal 
 masquerade — indeed a sort of private Bedlam-hospital, her whole 
 ideas being like so many patients crazed upon the subjects of love 
 and Hlerature, who act nothing in their vagaries, save Minerva, 
 Venus, and the nine Muses. " 
 
 ''Your Majesty's pleasure must always supersede mine," said the 
 Queen. ''I only hope I shall not be expected to entertain so fan- 
 tastic a personage. — The last time she came to Court, Isabella"— 
 (she spoke to one of her Portuguese ladies of honour) — '* you had 
 not returned from our lovely Lisbon,— her Grace had the assurance 
 (o assume a right to bring a train-bearer into my apartment; and 
 when this was not allowed, what then, think you, she did? — even 
 caused her train to be made so long, that three mortal yards of 
 satin and silver remained in the antechamber, supported by four 
 wenches, while the other end was attached to her Grace's person, 
 as she paid her duty at the upper end of the presence-room. Full 
 thirty yards of the most beautiful silk did her Grace's madness em- 
 ploy in this manner." 
 
 "And most beautiful damsels they were who bore this por- 
 tentous train, ' said the King— "a train never equalled save by 
 that of the great comet in sixty-six Sedley and Elherege told us 
 
488 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 wonders of Ihem ^ for it is one advantage of this new fashion brought 
 up by the Duchess, that a matron may be totally unconscious of the 
 coquetry of her train and its attendants." 
 
 "Am I to understand, then, your Majesty's pleasure is, thai the 
 lady is to be admitted?" said the usher. 
 
 " Certainly," said the King; *' that is, if the incognita be really 
 entitled to the honour. — It may be as well to enquire her title — 
 there are more madwomen abroad than the Duchess of Newcastle. 
 I will walk into the anteroom myself, and receive your answer." 
 
 But ere Charles had reached the lower end of the apartment in 
 his progress to the anteroom, the usher surprised the assembly by 
 announcing a name which had not for many a year been heard in 
 these courtly halls—*' the Countess of Derby I" 
 
 Stately and tall, and still, at an advanced period of life, having 
 a person unbroken by years, the rioble lady advanced towards her 
 sovereign, with a step resembling that with which she might have 
 met an equal. There was indeed nothing in her manner that in- 
 dicated either haughtiness or assumption unbecoming that pre- 
 sence ; but her consciousness of wrongs, sustained from the admi- 
 nistration of Charles, and of the superiority of the injured parly 
 over those from whom, or in whose name, the injury had been 
 offered, gave her look dignity, and her step firmness. She was 
 dressed in widow's weeds, of the same fashion which were worn at 
 the time her husband was brought to the scaffold ; and which, in 
 the thirty years subsequent to that event, she had never permilted 
 her tirewoman to alter. 
 
 The surprise was no pleasing one to the King; and cursing in 
 his heart the rashness which had allowed the lady entrance on the 
 gay scene in which they were engaged, he saw at the same time 
 the necessity of receiving her in a manner suitable to his own cha- 
 racter, and her rank in the British Court. He approached her with 
 an air of welcome, into which he threw all his natural grace, while 
 he began, " Chere Comtesse de Derby ^ puissante Reine de 
 
 Man, notre tres-auguste sceur'^ 
 
 " Speak English, sire, if I may presume to ask such a favour," 
 said the Countess, '*I am a Peeress of this nation — mother to one 
 English Earl, and widow, alas, to another ! In England I have 
 spent my brief days of happiness, my long years of widowhood and 
 sorrow. France and its language are but to me the dreams of an 
 uninteresting childhood. I know no tongue save that of my husband 
 and my son. Permit me, as the widow and mother of Derby, thus 
 lo render my homage." 
 
 She would have kneeled, but the King gracefully prevented her, 
 and saluting her cheek, according to the form, led her towards 
 the Queen, and himself performed the ceremony of introduction. 
 "Your Majesty," he said, "must be informed that the Counless 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 has imposed a reslriclion on French — the language of gallantry 
 and complimenr I trust your Majesty will, though a foreigner like 
 herself, find enough of honest English to assure the Countess of 
 Derby, with what pleasure we see her at Court, after the absence 
 of so many years." 
 
 " I will endeavour to do so at least," said the Queen, on whom 
 the appearance of the Countess of Derby made a more favourable 
 impression than that of many strangers, whom, at the King's re- 
 quest, she was in the habit of receiving with courtesy. 
 
 Charles himself again spoke. "To any other lady of the same 
 rank I might put the question, why she was so long absent from 
 the circle? I fear I can only ask the Countess of Derby, what for- 
 tunate cause produces the pleasure of seeing her here?" 
 
 " No fortunate cause, my liege, though one most strong and 
 urgent." 
 
 The King augured nothing agreeable from this commencement ; 
 and in truth, from the Countess's first entrance, he had anticipated 
 some unpleasant explanation, which he therefore hastened to parry, 
 having first composed his features into an expression of sympathy 
 and interest. 
 
 '^ If," said he, ** the cause is of a nature in which we can render 
 assistance, we cannot expect your ladyship should enter upon it at 
 the present time ; but a memorial addressed to our secretary, or, if 
 it is more satisfactory, to ourselves directly, will receive our im- 
 mediate, and, I trust I need not add, our favourable construction." 
 
 The Countess bowed with some state, and answered, "My bu- 
 siness, sire, is indeed important ; but so brief, that it need not for 
 more than a few minutes withdraw your ear from what is more 
 pleasing -, — yet it is so urgent, that I am afraid to postpone it even 
 for a moment." 
 
 ." This is unusual," said Charles. " But you. Countess of Derby, 
 are an unwonted guest, and must command my time. Does the 
 matter require my private ear? " 
 
 " For my part," said the Countess, " the whole Court might 
 listen •, but your Majesty may prefer hearing me in the presence of 
 one or two of your counsellors." 
 
 " Ormond," said the King, looking around, " attend us for an 
 instant—and do you, Arlington, do tl\e same." 
 
 The King led the way into an adjoining cabinet, and, sealing 
 himself, requested the Countess would also take a chair. " It needs 
 not, sire," she replied ; then pausing for a moment, as if to collect 
 her spirits, she proceeded with firmness. 
 
 " Your Majesty well said that no light cause had drawn me from 
 my lonely habitation. I came not hither when the property of my 
 son— that property which descended to him from a father who died 
 for your Majesty's rights — was conjured away from him under pre- 
 
490 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 text of justice, that it might first feed the avarice of the rebelFairfax, 
 and then supply the prodigality of his son-in-law, Buckingham.' 
 
 " These are over harsh terms, lady," said the King. "A legal 
 penalty was, as we remember, incurred by an act of irregular \io- 
 lence— so our courts and our laws term it, though personally I have 
 no objection to call it, with you, an honourable revenge. But admit 
 it were such, in prosecution of the laws of honour, bitter legal con- 
 sequences are often necessarily incurred." 
 
 '' I come not to argue for my son's wasted and forfeited inheri- 
 tance, sire," said the Countess; "I only take credit for my pa- 
 tience, under that afflicting dispensation. I now come to redeem 
 the honour of the House of Derby, more dear to me than all the 
 treasures and lands which ever belonged to it." 
 
 ' ' And by whom is the^honour of the House of Derby impeached ?" 
 said the King 5 "for on my word you bring me the first news of it." 
 
 " Has there one Narralive, as these wild fictions are termed, 
 been printed with regard to the Popish Plot — this pretended Plot, 
 as I will call it — in which the honour of our house has not been 
 touched and tainted? And are there not two noble gentlemen, 
 father and son, allies of the House of Stanley, about to be placed 
 in jeopardy of their lives, on account of matters in which we are 
 the parlies first impeached ? " 
 
 The King looked around, and smiled to Arlington and Ormond. 
 *' The Counless's courage, methinks, shames ours. What lips dared 
 have called the immaculate Plot pretended, or the Narrative of 
 the witnesses, our preservers from Popish knaves, a wild fiction? — 
 But, madam," he said, " though I admire the generosity of your 
 interference in behalf of the two Peverils, I must acquaint you, that 
 your interference is unnecessary — they are this morning acquitted." 
 
 "Now may God be praised!" said the Countess, folding her 
 hands. " I have scarce slept since I heard the news of their im- 
 peachment, and have arrived here to surrender myself to your 
 Majesty's justice, or to the prejudices of the nation, in hopes, by so 
 doing, I might at least save the lives of my noble and generous 
 friends, enveloped in suspicion only, or chiefly, by their connexion 
 with us. — Are they indeed acquitted?" 
 
 " They are, by my honour," said the King. " I marvel you 
 heard it not." 
 
 " I arrived but last night, and remained in the strictest seclu- 
 sion," said the Countess, " afraid to make any enquiries that might 
 occasion discovery ere I saw your Majesty." 
 
 " And now that we have met," said the King, taking her hand 
 kindly — " a meeting which gives me the greatest pleasure — may 
 I recommend to you speedily to return to your royal island with as 
 little eclat as you came hither ? The world, my dear Countess, has 
 changed since we were young. Men fought in the Civil War with 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 491 
 
 good swords and muskets ^ but now we fight with indictments and 
 oaths, and such like legal weapons. You are no adept in such 
 warfare ; and though I am well aware you know how to hold oul a 
 castie, I doubt much if you have the art to parry off an impeach- 
 ment. This Plot has come upon us like a land storm — there is no 
 steering the vessel in the teeth of the tempest — we must run for the 
 nearest haven, and happy if we can reach one." 
 
 " This is cowardice, my liege," said the Countess,—'' Forgive 
 the word I — it is but a woman who speaks it. Call your noble friends 
 around you, and make a stand like your royal father. There is but 
 one right and one wrong — one honourable and forward course ^ and 
 all others which deviate are oblique and unworthy." 
 
 " Your language, my venerated friend," said Ormond, — who 
 saw the necessity of interfering betwixt the dignity of the actual 
 Sovereign, and the freedom of the Countess, who was generally 
 accustomed to receive, not to pay observance,—" your language 
 is strong and decided, but it applies not to the limes. It might oc- 
 casion a renewal of the Civil War, and of all its miseries, but could 
 hardly be attended with the effects you sanguinely anticipate." 
 
 " You are too rash, my Lady Countess," said Arlington, " not 
 only to rush upon this danger yourself, but to desire to involve his 
 Majesty. Lei me say plainly, that, in this jealous time, you have 
 done but ill to exchange the security of Castle Rushin for the chance 
 of a lodging in the Tower of London." 
 
 " And were I to kiss the block there," said the Countess, " as did 
 my husband at Bolton-on-the-Moors, I would do so willingly, rather 
 than forsake a friend !■ — and one, too, whom, as in the case of the 
 younger Peveril, I have thrust upon danger." 
 
 " But have I not assured you that both of the Peverits, elder and 
 younger, are freed from peril?" said the King; "and, my dear 
 Countess, what can else tempt you to thrust yourself on danger, 
 from which, doubtless, you expect to be relieved by my interven- 
 tion ? Methinks a lady of your judgment should not voluntarily 
 throw herself into a river, merely that her friends might have the 
 risk and merit of dragging her out." 
 
 The Countess reiterated her intention to claim a fair trial.— The 
 two counsellors again pressed their advice that she should with- 
 draw, though under the charge of absconding from justice, and 
 remain in her own feudal kingdom. 
 
 The King, seeing no termination to the debate, gently reminded 
 the Countess that her Majesty would be jealous if he detained her 
 ladyship longer, and offered his hand to conduct her back to the 
 company. This she was under the necessity of accepting, and re- 
 turned accordingly to the apartments of state, where an event 
 occurred immediately afterwards, w hich must be transferred to the 
 next chapter. 
 
492 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 Here stand I tight and trim, 
 
 Quick of eye, though little of limb ; 
 
 He who denieth the word I have spoken, 
 
 Betwixt him and me shall lances be broken. 
 
 Lay of the Liltle John de Saintre. 
 
 When Charles had re-conducled the Countess of Derby into Ihe 
 presence-chamber, before he parted with her, he entreated her, in a 
 whisper, lo be governed by good counsel, and to regard her own 
 safely ; and then turned easily from her, as if to distribute his atten- 
 tions equally among the other guests. 
 
 These were a good deal circumscribed at the instant by the ar- 
 rival of a party of five or six musicians ^ one of whom, a German, 
 under the patronage of the Duke of Buckingham, was particularly 
 renowned for his performance on the violoncello, but had been 
 detained in inactivity in the antechamber by the non-arrival of his 
 instrument, which had now at length made its appearance. 
 
 The domestic who placed it before the owner, shrouded as it was 
 within its wooden case, seemed heartily glad to be rid of his load, 
 and lingered for a moment, as if interested in discovering what sort 
 of instrument was to be produced that could weigh so heavily. His 
 curiosity was satisfied, and in a most extraordinary manner ; for, 
 while the musician was fumbling with the key, the case being for 
 his greater convenience placed upright against the wall, the case 
 and instrument itself at once flew open, and out started the dwarf, 
 Geoffrey Hudson, — at sight of whose unearthly appearance, thus 
 suddenly introduced, the ladies shrieked, and ran backwards ; the 
 gentlemen started : and the poor German, on seeing the portentous 
 delivery of his fiddle case, tumbled on the floor in an agony, sup- 
 posing, it might be, that his instrument was metamorphosed into 
 the strange figure which supplied its place. So soon, however, as 
 he recovered, he glided out of the apartment, and was followed by 
 most of his companions. 
 
 "Hudson I" said the King — "My little old friend, I am not 
 sorry to see you •, though Buckingham, who I suppose is the pur- 
 veyor of this jest, hath served us up but a stale one." 
 
 " Will your Majesty honour me with one moment's attention?" 
 said Hudson. 
 
 " Assuredly, my good friend," said the King. " Old acquain- 
 tances are springing up in every quarter to-night ^ and our leisure 
 can hardly be belter employed than in listening to them. — It was 
 an idle trick of Buckingham,*' he added, in a whisper to Ormond,^ 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 493 
 
 ** to send the poor thing hither, especially as he was to-day tried 
 for the affair of the Plot. At any rate, he comes not to ask protec- 
 tion from us, having had the rare fortune to come off Plot-free. 
 He is but fishing, I suppose, for some little present or pension." 
 
 The little man, precise in Court eliquelte, yet impatient of the 
 King's delaying to attend to him, slood in the midst of the floor, 
 most valorously pawing and prancing, like a Scots pony assuming 
 the airs of a war-horse, waving meanwhile his little hat with the 
 tarnished feather, and bowing from lime to time, as if impatient to 
 be heard. 
 
 " Speak on, then, my friend," said Charles 5 " if thou hast some 
 poetical address penned for ihee, out with it, that thou mayst have 
 time to repose these flourishing little limbs of thine." 
 
 " No poetical speech have I, most mighty Sovereign," answered 
 the dwarf-, " but, in plain and most loyal prose, I do accuse, before 
 this company, the once noble Duke of Buckingham of high treason." 
 
 '' Well spoken and manfully— Get on, man," said the King, who 
 never doubled that this was the in! reduction to something burlesque 
 or witty, not conceiving that the charge was made in solemn ear- 
 nest. 
 
 A great laugh look place among such courtiers as heard, and 
 among many who did not hear, what was uttered by the dwarf ^ the 
 former entertained by the extravagant emphasis and gesticulation 
 of the little champion, and the others laughing not the less loud that 
 Ihey laughed for example's sake, and upon trust. 
 
 " What matter is there for all this mirth?" said he, very indig- 
 nantly—" Is it fit subject for laughing, that I, Geoffrey Hudson, 
 Knight, do, before King and nobles, impeach George Villiers, Duke 
 of Buckingham, of high treason?" 
 
 "No subject of mirth, certainly," said Charles, composing 
 his features; "but great matter of wonder.— Come, cease this 
 mouthing, and prancing and mummery. If there be a jest, come, 
 out with it, man •, and if not, even gel Ihee to the beauffel, and drink 
 a cup of wine to refresh thee after thy close lodging." 
 
 . " I tell you, my liege," said Hudson, impatiently, yet in a whis- 
 per, intended only to be audible by the King, " that if you spend 
 over much lime in trifling, you will be convinced by dire experience 
 of Buckingham's treason I tell you, — I asseverate to your Ma- 
 jesty,— two hundred armed fanatics will be here within the hour, 
 to surprise the guards." 
 
 " Stand back, ladies," said the King, " or you may hear more 
 than you will care lo listen to. My Lord of Buckingham's jests 
 are not always, you know, quite fitted for female ears ; besides, we 
 want a few words in private with our liltle friend. You, my Lord 
 of Ormond— you, ArHngton," (and he named one or two others) 
 -"may remain with us." 
 
494 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 The gay crowd bore back, and dispersed through the apart- 
 ment— the men to conjecture what the end of this mummery, as 
 they supposed it, was likely to prove ; and what jest, as Sedley 
 said, the bass-fiddle had been brought to bed of— and the ladies to 
 admire and criticise the antique dress and richly embroidered ruff 
 and hood of the Countess of Derby, to whom the Queen was show- 
 ing particular attention. 
 
 " And now, in the name of Heaven, and amongst friends," said 
 the King to the dwarf, " what means all this?" 
 
 " Treason, my lord the King ! — Treason to his Majesty of Eng- 
 land! — When I was chambered in yonder instrument, my lord, 
 the High-Dutch fellows who bore me, carried me into a certain 
 chapel, to see, as they said to each other, that all was ready. Sire, 
 I went where bass-fiddle never went before, even into a conven- 
 ticle of Fifth-Monarchists ^ and when they brought me away, the 
 preacher was concluding his sermon, and was within a ' Now to 
 apply* of setting off like the bell-wether at the head of his flock, to 
 surprise your Majesty in your royal Court? 1 heard him through 
 the sound-holes of my instrument, when the fellow set me down 
 for a moment to profit by this precious doctrine." 
 
 " It would be singular," said Lord Arlington, " were there some 
 reality at the bottom of this buffoonery, for we know these wild 
 men have been consulting together to-day, and five conventicles 
 have held a solemn fast." 
 
 " Nay," said the King, '' if that be the case, they are certainly 
 determined on some villainy." 
 
 " Might I advise," said the Duke of Ormond, " I would sum- 
 mon the Duke of Buckingham to this presence His connexions 
 with the fanatics are well known, though he afl'ects to conceal 
 them." 
 
 '" You would not, my lord, do his Grace the injustice to treat 
 him as a criminal on such a charge as this ?" said the King. " How- 
 ever," he. added, after a moment's consideration, "Buckingham 
 is accessible to every sort of temptation, from the flightiness of 
 his genius. I should not be surprised if he nourished hopes of an 
 aspiring kind — I think we had some proof of it but lately. — Hark 
 ye, Chiffinch ^ go to him instantly, and bring him here on any fair 
 pretext thou canst devise. I would fain save him from what lawyers 
 call an overt act. The Court would be dull as a dead horse, were 
 Buckingham to miscarry." 
 
 " Will not your Majesty order the Horse Guards to turn out?" 
 said young Selby, who was present and an officer. 
 
 " No, Selby," said the King, " T like not horse-play. But let 
 them be prepared ; and let the High Bailiff collect his civil officers, 
 and command the Sheriffs to summon iheir worshipful attendants, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 495 
 
 from javelin-men to hangmen », and have Ihem in readiness, in 
 case of any sudden lumult — double the sentinels on the doors of 
 the palace — and see no strangers get in." 
 
 '• Or out,'' said the Duke of Ormond. " Where are the foreign 
 fellows who brought in the dwarf?" 
 
 They were sought for, but they were not to be found. They 
 had retreated, leaving their instruments — a circumstance which 
 seemed to bear hard on the Duke of Buckingham, their pa(ron. 
 
 Hasty preparations were made to provide resistance to any effort 
 of despair which the supposed conspirators might be driven to ^ and 
 in the meanwhile, the King, withdrawing with Arlington, Ormond, 
 and a few other counsellors, into the cabinet where the Countess 
 of Derby had had her audience, resumed the examination of the 
 little discoverer. His declaration, though singular, was quite cohe- 
 rent ; the strain of romance intermingled with it, being in fad a 
 part of his character, which often gained him the fate of being 
 laughed at, when he would otherwise have been pitied, or even 
 esteemed. 
 
 He commenced with a flourish about his sufferings for the Plot, 
 which the impatience of Ormond would have cut short, had not 
 the King reminded his Grace, that a top, when it is not flogged, 
 must needs go down of itself at the end of a definite time, while 
 the application of the whip may keep it up for hours. 
 
 Geoffrey Hudson was, therefore, allowed to exhaust himself on 
 the subject of his prison-house, which he informed the King was 
 not without a beam of light — an emanation of loveliness — a mortal 
 angel — quick of step and beautiful of eye, who had more than once 
 visited his confinement with words of cheering and comfort. 
 
 "By my faith," said the King, " they fare better in Newgale 
 than I was aware of. Who would have thought of the little gen- 
 tleman being solaced with female society in such a place?" 
 
 '■'- I pray your Majesty," said the dwarf, after the manner of a 
 solemn protest, " to understand nothing amiss. My devotion to 
 this fair creature is rather like what we poor Catholics pay to the 
 blessed saints, than mixed with any grosser quality. Indeed, she 
 seems rather a sylphid of the Rosicrucian system, than aught more 
 carnal ; being slighter, lighter, and less than the females of com- 
 mon life, who have something of that coarseness of make which is 
 doubtless derived from the sinful and gigantic race of the antedi- 
 luvians." 
 
 " Well, say on, man," quoth Charles. " Didst thou not discover 
 this sylph to be a mere mortal wench after all?" 
 
 " Who?-I, my liege?^-0 fie !" 
 • Nay, little gentleman, do not be so particularly scandalized," 
 
 • Note, p. 500.— The Sheriff of London. 
 
496 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 said the King^ " I promise you I suspect you of no audacity of 
 gallantry." 
 
 " Time wears fast," said the Duke of Ormond, impatiently, and 
 looking at his watch. " Cliiffinch hath been gone ten minutes, and 
 ten minutes will bring him back." 
 
 '' True," said Charles gravely. " Come to the point, Hudson 5 
 and tell us what this female has to do with your coming hither in 
 this extraordinary manner." 
 
 " Every thing, my lord," said little Hudson. '^,1 saw her twice 
 during my confinement in Newgate, and, in my thought, she is 
 the very angel who guards my life and welfare ; for, after my ac- 
 quittal, as I walked towards the city with two tall gentlemen, who 
 had been in trouble along with me, arid just while we stood to our 
 defence against a rascally mob, and just as I had taken possession 
 of an elevated situation to have some vantage against the great odds 
 of numbers, I heard a heavenly voice sound, as it were, from a 
 window behind me, counselling me to take refuge in a certain 
 house; to which measure I readily persuaded my gallant friends 
 the Peverils, who have always shown themselves willing to be coun- 
 selled by me." 
 
 ''Showing therein their wisdom at once and modesty," said the 
 King. " But what chanced next? Be brief— be like thyself, man." 
 " For a time, sire," said the dwarf, " it seemed as if I were not 
 the principal object of attention. First, the younger Peveril was 
 withdrawn from us by a gentleman of venerable appearance, 
 though somewhat smacking of a Puritan, having boots of neat's 
 leather, and wearing his weapon without a sword-knot. When 
 Master Julian returned, he informed us, for the first time, that we 
 were in the power of a body of armed fanatics, who were, as the 
 poet says, prompt for direful act. And your Majesty will remark, 
 that both father and son were in some measure desperate, and dis- 
 regardful from that moment of the assurances which I gave them 
 that the star which I was bound to worship, would, in her own 
 time, shine forth in signal of our safety. May it please your Ma- 
 jesty, in answer to my hilarious exhortations to confidence, the 
 father did but say tush, and the son pshaw, which showed how 
 men's prudence and manners are disturbed by affliction. Never- 
 theless, these two gentlemen, the Peverils, forming a strong opinion 
 of the necessity there was to break forth, were it only to convey a 
 knowledge of these dangerous passages to your Majesty, com- 
 menced an assault on the door of the apartment, I also assisting 
 with the strength which Heaven hath given, and some threescore 
 years have left me. We could not, as it unhappily proved, ma- 
 nage our attemp t so silently, but that our guards overheard us, 
 and, entering in numbers, separated us from each other, and com- 
 pelled my companions, at point of pike and poniard, to go to some 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 407 
 
 other and more dislani apartment, thus separating our fair society. 
 I was again enclosed in tlic now solilary chamber, and I will own 
 that I felt a certain depression of soul. But when bale is at high- 
 est, as the poet singeth, boot is at nighest, for a door of hope was 
 suddenly opened" — 
 
 " In the name of God, my liege," said the Duke of Ormond, "let 
 this poor creature's story be translated into the language of com- 
 mon sense by some of the scribblers of romances about Court, and 
 we may be able to make meaning of it." 
 
 Geoffrey Hudson looked with a frowning countenance of reproof 
 upon the impatient old Irish nobleman, and said, with a very dig- 
 nified air, ''That one duke upon a poor gentleman's hand was 
 enough at a time, and that, but for his present engagement and 
 dependency with the Duke of Buckingham, he would have endured 
 no such terms from the Duke of Ormond." 
 
 '' Abate your valour, and diminish your choler, at our request, 
 most puissant Sir GeoITrey Hudson," said the King •, " and forgive 
 the Duke of Ormond for my sake ^ but at all events go on with 
 your story." 
 
 Geoffrey Hudson laid his hand on his bosom, and bowed in 
 proud and dignified submission to his Sovereign ; then waved his 
 forgiveness gracefully to Ormond, accompanied with a horrible 
 grin, which he designed for a smile of gracious forgiveness and 
 conciliation. Under the Duke's favour, then," he proceeded, 
 " when I said a door of hope was opened to me, I meant a door 
 behind the tapestry, from whence issued that fair vision — yet not 
 so fair as lustrously dark, like the beauty of a continental night, 
 where the cloudless azure sky shrouds us in a veil more lovely 
 than that of day !— But I note your Majesty's impatience ;— enough 
 I followed my beautiful guide into an apartment where there lay, 
 strangely intermingled, warhke arms and musical instruments. 
 Amongst these I saw my own late place of temporary obscurity— 
 a violoncello. To my astonishment, she turned around the instru- 
 ment, and opening it behind by pressure of a spring, showed that 
 it was filled with pistols, daggers, and ammunition made up in ban- 
 doleers. ' These,' she said, ' are this night destined to surprise the 
 Court of the unwary Charles'— your Majesty must pardon my using 
 her own words ; 'but if thou darest go in their stead, thou mayst 
 be the saviour of king and kingdoms ^ if thou art afraid, keep secret, 
 I will myself try the adventure.' Now, may Heaven forbid, that 
 Geoffrey Hudson were craven enough, said I, to let Ihee run such 
 a risk ! You know not— you cannot know, what belongs to such 
 ambuscades and concealments— I am accustomed to them— have 
 lurked in the pocket of a giant, and have formed the contents of 
 a pasty. ' Get in, then,' she said, ' and lose no time.' Neverthe- 
 less, while I prepared to obcv, I will not deny that some cold'ap- 
 
 32 
 
49^ PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 prehensions came over my hot valour, and I confessed to her, if it 
 might so be, I would rather find my way lo the palace on my own 
 feet. But she would not lislen to me, saying hastily, I would be 
 intercepted, or refused admittance, and that I must embrace the 
 means she offered me of introduclion into the presence, and when, 
 there, tell the King to be on his guard — little more is necessary; 
 for once the scheme is known it becomes desperate.' Rashly and 
 boldy, I bid adieu to the daylight which was then fading away. She 
 withdrew the contents of the instrument destined for my conceal- 
 ment, and having put them behind the chimney-board, introduced 
 me in their room. As she clasped me in, I imploded her to warn 
 the men who were to be intrusted with me, to lake heed and keep 
 the neck of the violoncello uppermost ; but ere I had completed my 
 request, I found I was felt alone, and in darkness. Presently, two 
 or three fellows entered, whom, by their language, which I in 
 some sort understood, I perceived to be Germans, and under the in- 
 fluence of the Duke of Buckingham. I heard them receive from the 
 leader a charge how they were to deport themselves, when Ihey 
 should assume the concealed arms — and — for I will do the Duke 
 no wrong — I understood their orders were precise, not only to spare 
 the person of the King, but also those of the courtiers, and to pro- 
 tect all who might be in the presence against an irruption of the lima- 
 lics. In other respects, they had charge to disarm the Gentlemen- 
 pensioners, in the guard-room, and, in fine, to obtain the command 
 of the Court. 
 
 The King looked disconcerted and thoughtful at this communi- 
 cation, and bade Lord Arlington see that Selby quietly made search 
 into the contents of the other cases which had been brought as 
 containing musical instruments. He then signed lo the dwarf to pro- 
 ceed in his story, asking him again and again, and very solemnly, 
 whether he was sure that he heard the Duke's name mentioned, as 
 commanding or approving this action. 
 
 The dwarf answered in the affirmative. 
 
 "Ttiis," said the King, "is carrying the frolic somewhat far." 
 The dwarf proceeded to stale, that he was carried after his me- 
 tamorphosis into the chapel, where he heard the preacher seem- 
 ingly about the close of his harangue, the tenor of which he also 
 mentioned. Words, he said, could not express the agony which 
 he felt when he found that his bearer, in placing the instrument in 
 a corner, was about to invert its position, in which case, he said, 
 human frailty might have proved loo great for love, for loyalty, for 
 true obedience, nay, for the fear of death, which was like to ensue 
 on discovery ; and he concluded, that he greatly doubted he could 
 not have stood on his head for many minutes without screaming 
 aloud. 
 
 '' I could not have blamed you,'' said the King ; " placed in such 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 499 
 
 a posture in the royal oak, I must needs have roared myself.— Js 
 this all you have lo tell us of this strange conspiracy ? " Sir Geof- 
 frey Hudson replied in the affirmative, and the King presently sub- 
 joined—" Go, my lillle friend, your services shall not be forgotten. 
 Since thou hast crept into the bowels of a fiddle for our service, we 
 are bound, in duty and conscience, to find you a more roomy 
 dwelling in future." 
 
 " It was a violoncello, if your Majesty is pleased to remember," 
 said the little jealous man, "not a common fiddle 5 though, for 
 your Majesty's service, I would have crept even into a kit." 
 
 " Whatever of that nature could have been performed by any 
 subject of ours, thou wouldst have enacted in our behalf — of that 
 we hold ourselves certain. Withdraw for a lillle; and hark ye, for 
 the present beware what you say about this matter. Let your ap- 
 pearance be considered — do you mark me — as a frolic of the Duke 
 of Buckingham ; and not a word of conspiracy." 
 
 " Were it not belter lo put him under some restraint, sire?" 
 said the Duke of Ormond, when Hudson had left the room. 
 
 *' It is unnecessary," said the Ring. "I remember the little 
 wretch of old. Fortune, to make him the model of absurdity, has 
 closed a most lofty soul within that little miserable carcass. For 
 wielding his sword and keeping his word, he is a perfect Don 
 Quixote in decimo-octavo. He shall be taken care of. — But, odds- 
 fish, my lords, is not this freak of Buckingham too villainous and 
 ungrateful ? " 
 
 "He had not had the means of being so, had your Majesty, ' 
 said the Duke of Ormond, " been less lenient on other occasions." 
 
 "My lord, my lord," said Charles, hastily — " your lordship is 
 Buckingham's known enemy— we will take other and more impar- 
 tial counsel — Arlington, what think you of all this?" 
 
 "May it please your Majesty," said Arlington, "I think the 
 thing is absolutely impossible, unless the Duke has had some quar- 
 rel with your Majesty, of which we know nothing. His Grace is 
 very flighty, doubtless, but this seems actual insanity." 
 
 "Why, faith," said the King, "some words passed betwixt us 
 this morning — his Duchess it seems is dead — and to lose no lime, 
 his Grace had cast his eyes about for means of repairing the loss, 
 and had the assurance to ask our consent to woo my niece Lady 
 Anne." 
 
 "Which your Majesty of course rejected?" said the statesman. 
 
 "And not without rebuking his assurance," added the King. 
 
 "In private, sir, or before any witnesses?" said the Duke of Or- 
 mond. 
 
 "Before no one," said the King,; — "excepting, indeed, little 
 Chiffinch; and he, you know, is no one." 
 
 '' Hinc illcB lachrymas;' said Ormond. "I know his Grace 
 
500 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 vvell. While the rebuke of his aspiring petulance was a mailer 
 betwixt your Majesty and him, he might have lei it pass by \ but a 
 check before a fellow from whom it was likely enough to travel 
 through the Court was a matter to be revenged." 
 
 Here Selby came hastily from the other room, to say, that his 
 Grace of Buckingham had just entered the presence chamber. 
 
 The King rose. " Let a boat be in readiness, with a party of the 
 yeomen," said he. " It may be necessary to attach him of treason, 
 and send him to the Tower." 
 
 " Should not a Secretary of Stale's warrant be prepared?" said 
 Ormond. 
 
 "No, my Lord Duke," said the Ring, sharply. " I still hope 
 that the necessity may be avoided." 
 
 xNOTE TO CHAPTER XL VI. 
 
 iSote, p. 495.— The Sheriff of London. 
 
 It can hardly be forgotten that one of the great difficulties of Charles II.'s reign was to 
 obtain for the crown the power of choosing the sheriffs of London. Roger North gives a 
 lively account of his brother, Sir Dudley North, who agreed to serve for the court. " I 
 omit the share he had in composing the tumults about burning the Pope, because that is 
 accounted for in the Examen, and the life of the Lord Keeper North. Neither is there any 
 occasion to say any thing of the rise and discovery of the Rye Plot, for the same reason. 
 Nor is my subject much concerned with this latter, further than that the conspirators 
 had taken especial care of Sir Dudley North. For he was one of those who, if they had 
 succeeded, was to have been knocked on the head, and his skin to be stufl'ed, and hung 
 up in Guildhall. But, all that apart, he reckoned it a great unhappiness, that so many- 
 trials for high treason, and executions, should happen in his year. However, in these af- 
 fairs, the sheriffs were passive ; for all returns of panels, and other dispatches of the law, 
 were issued and done by under-offlcers ; which was a fair screen for them. They attended 
 at the trials and executions, to coerce the crowds, and keep order, which was enough for 
 them to do. I have heard Sir Dudley North say, that, striking with his cane, he wondered 
 to see what blows his countrymen would take upon their bare heads, and never look up 
 at it. And indeed, nothing can match the zeal of the common people to see executions. 
 The worst grievance was the executioner coming to him for orders, touching the ab- 
 scinded members, and to know where to dispose of them. Once, while he was abroad, a 
 cart, with some of them, came into the court-yard of his house, and frighted his lady 
 almost out of her wits ; and she could never be reconciled to the dog hangman's saying 
 he came to speak with his master. These are inconveniences that attend the stations of 
 public magistracy, and are necessary to be borne with, as magistracy itself is necessary. 
 I have now no more to say of any incidents during the shrievalty; but that, at the year's 
 end, he delivered up his charges to his successors in like manner as he had received them 
 from his predecessor ; and, having reinstated his family, he lived well and easy at his owa 
 house, as he did before these disturbances put him out of order." 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIT. 
 
 High reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. 
 
 Richard 111. 
 
 Before giving the reader an account of the meeting betwixt 
 Buckingham and his injured Sovereign, we may mention a trifling 
 circumstance or two which took place betwixt his Grace and Chif- 
 linch, in the short drive betwixt York-Place and Whitehall. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 50f 
 
 In the outset, the Duke endeavoured to learn fron\ the courtier 
 the special cause of his being summoned so hastily to Ihe Court. 
 Chiffinch answered, cautiously, that he believed there were some 
 gambols going forward, at which the King desired Ihe duke's 
 presence. 
 
 This did not quite satisfy Buckingham, for, conscious of his own 
 rash purpose, he could not but apprehend discovery. After a mo- 
 ment's silence, "Chiffinch," he said, abruptly, "did you mention 
 to any one what the King said to me this morning touching the 
 Lady Anne?" 
 
 "My Lord Duke," said Chiffinch, hesitating, "surely my duly 
 to the King — my respect to your Grace"— — 
 
 " You mentioned it to no one, then?" said the Duke, sternly. 
 
 "To no one," replied Chiffinch, faintly, for he was intimidated 
 by the Duke's increasing severity of manner. 
 
 "You lie, like a scoundrel!" said the Duke — " You told Christ- 
 ian!" 
 
 " Your Grace," said Chiffinch — " your Grace — your Grace ought 
 to remember that I told you Christian's secret, that the Countess of 
 Derby was come up." 
 
 " And you think the one point of treachery may balance for the 
 other? But no. I must have a better atonement. Be assured I 
 will blow your brains out, ere you leave this carriage, unless you 
 tell me the truth of this message from Court." 
 
 As Chiffinch hesitated what reply to make, a man, who, by the 
 blaze of the torches, then always borne, as well by the lackeys who 
 hung behind the carriage, as by the footmen who ran by the side, 
 might easily see who sat in the coach, approached, and sung in 
 a deep manly voice, the burden of an old French song on the 
 battle of Marignan, in which is imitated the German French of the 
 defeated Swiss, — 
 
 " Tout est verlorc 
 La iinterole. 
 Tout est verlore 
 
 Bei Got." 
 
 " I am betrayed," said the Duke, who instantly conceived that 
 this chorus, expressing " all is lost," was sung by one of his faithful 
 agents, as a hint to him that their machinations were discovered. 
 
 He attempted to throw himself from the carriage, but Chiffinch 
 held him with a firm, though respectful grasp. "Do not destroy 
 yourself, my lord," he said, in a tone of deep humiUty — " there 
 are soldiers and officers of the peace around the carriage, to en- 
 force your Grace's coming to Whitehall, and to prevent your escape. 
 To attempt it would be to confess guilt 5 and 1 advise you strongly 
 against that— the King is your friend — be your own." 
 
502 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 
 
 The Duke, after a monienrs consideration, said sullenly, " 1 
 believe you are right. Why should I fly, when I am guilty of 
 nothing but sending some fireworks to entertain the Court, instead 
 of a concert of music?" 
 
 "And the dwarf, who came so unexpectedly out of the bass- 
 yioi"— ^ 
 
 '' Was a masking device of my own, Chilfinch," said the Duke, 
 though the circumstance was then first known to him. " Chifiincli, 
 you will bind me forever, if you will permit me to have a minute's 
 conversation with Christian." 
 
 '' With Christian, my lord?— Where could you find him?— You 
 are aware we must go straight on to the Court." 
 
 "True," said the Duke, "but I think I cannot miss finding 
 him ; and you. Master Chifiinch, are no officer, and have no war- 
 rant either to detain me prisoner, or prevent my speaking to whom 
 I please." 
 
 Chifiinch replied, " My Lord Duke, your genius is so great, and 
 your escapes so numerous, that it wiU be from no wish of my own if 
 I am forced to hurt a man so skilful and so popular." 
 
 " Nay, then, there is life in it yet," said the Duke, and whistled ; 
 when, from beside the little cutler's booth, with which the reader 
 is acquainted, appeared, suddenly, Master Christian, and was in a 
 moment at the side of the coach. ^^ Ganz ist verloren,'' said the 
 Duke. 
 
 " I know it," said Christian; " and all our godly friends are 
 dispersed upon the news. Lucky the Colonel and these German 
 rascals gave a hint. AU is safe— You go to Court. — Hark ye, I will 
 follow." 
 
 " You, Christian ? that would be more friendly than wise." 
 
 " Why, what is there against me?" said Christian. " I am in- 
 nocent as the child unborn' — so is your Grace. There is but one 
 creature who can bear witness to our guilt \ but I trust to bring her 
 on the stage in our favour— besides, if I went not, I should pre- 
 sently be sent for." 
 
 " The familiar of whom I have heard you speak, I warrant?" 
 
 " Hark in your ear again." 
 
 "I understand," said the Duke, "and will delay Master Chif- 
 finch,— for he, you must know, is my conductor, — no longer. — 
 Well, Chifiinch, let them drive on. — Vogue la galereT he ex- 
 claimed, as the carriage went onward; " I have sailed through 
 worse perils than this yet." 
 
 " It is not for me to judge," said Chitfinch ; " your Grace is a 
 bold commander ; and Christian hath the cunning of the devil for a 
 
 pilot; but However, I remain your Grace's poor friend, and will 
 
 heartily rejoice in your extrication." 
 
PEVEUIL OF THE PEAK. 503 
 
 " Give me a proof of your friendship," said the Buke. " Tell me 
 what you know of Christian's familiar, as he calls her." 
 
 " I believe it to be the same dancing wench who came with 
 Empson to my house on the morning that Mistress Alice made her 
 escape from us. But you have seen her, my lord?" 
 
 *' I?" said the Duke-, " whendidi see her?' 
 
 *' She was employed by Christian, I believe, to set his niece at 
 liberty, when he found himself obliged to gratify his fanatical bro- 
 ther-in-law, by restoring his child-, besides being prompted by a 
 private desire, as I think, of bantering your Grace." 
 
 " Umph! I suspected so much. I will repay it," said the Duke. 
 " But first to get out of this dilemma.— That little Numidian witch, 
 then, was his familiar -, and she joined in the plot to tantalize me?— 
 But here we reach Whitehall. — Now, Chiffinch, be no worse than 
 thy word, and^ — now, Buckingham, be thyself!" 
 
 But ere we follow Buckingham into the presence, where he had 
 so difficult a part to sustain, it may not be amiss to follow Christian 
 after his brief conversation with him. On re-entering the house, 
 which he did by a circuitous passage, leading from a distant alley, 
 and through several courts, Christian hastened to a low matted 
 apartment, in which Bridgenorth sat alone, reading the Bible by 
 the light of a small brazen lamp, with the utmost serenity of coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 '' Have you dismissed the Peverils ?" said Christian, hastily. 
 
 " I have," said the Major, 
 
 ** And upon what pledge— that Ihey will not carry information 
 against you to Whitehall ?" 
 
 " They gave me Iheir promise voluntarily, when I showed them 
 our armed friends were dismissed. To-morrow, I believe, it is their 
 purpose to lodge informations." 
 
 " And why not to-night, I pray you?" said Christian. 
 
 " Because they allow us that time for escape." 
 
 " Why, then, do you not avail yourself of it? Wherefore are you 
 here?" said Christian. 
 
 " Nay, rather, why iloyou not fly?" said Bridgenorth. " Of a 
 surety, you are as deeply engaged as I." 
 
 " Brother Bridgenorth, I am the fox, who knows a hundred 
 modes of deceiving the hounds; you are the deer, whose sole re- 
 source is in hasty flight. Therefore lose no time— begone to the 
 country— or rather, Zedekiah Fish's vessel, the Good Hope, lies in 
 the river, bound for Massachusets— take the wings of the morn- 
 ing, and begone— she can fall down to Gravesend with the tide." 
 
 " And leave to thee, brother Christian," said Bridgenorth; " the 
 charge of my fortune and my daughter? No, brother; my opinion of 
 your good faith must be re-eslablished ere I again trust thee." 
 
 " Go thy ways, then, for a suspicious fool," said Christian, sup- 
 
504 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 pressing his strong desire to use language more offensive; ** or 
 rather stay where thou art, and take thy chance of the gallows!*' 
 " It is appointed to all men to die once," said Bridgenorth ; " my 
 life hath been a living death. My fairest boughs have been 
 stripped by the axe of the forester — that which survives must, if it 
 shall blossom, be grafted elsewhere, and at a distance from my 
 aged trunk. The sooner, then, the root feels the axe, the stroke Is 
 more welcome. I had been pleased, indeed, had I been called to 
 bringing yonder licentious Court to a purer character, and reliev- 
 ing the yoke of the suffering people of God. That youth too— son 
 to that precious woman, to whom I owe the last lie that feebly links 
 my wearied spirit to humanity— could I have travailed with him in 
 the good cause I— But that, with all my other hopes, is broken for 
 ever! and since I am not worthy to be an instrument in so great a 
 work, I have little desire to abide longer in this vale of sorrow." 
 
 '•' Farewell, then, desponding fool I" said Christian, unable, with 
 all his calmness, any longer to suppress his contempt for the re- 
 signed and hopeless predestinarian. " That fate should have 
 clogged me with such confederates!" he muttered, as he left the 
 apartment—" this bigotedfool is now nearly irreclaimable — I must 
 toZarah; for she, or no one, must carry us through these straits. 
 If I can but soothe her sullen temper, and excite her vanity to ac- 
 tion, — betwixt her address, the King's partiality for the Duke, 
 Buckingham's matchless effrontery, and my own hand upon the 
 helm, we may yet weather the tempest that darkens around us. 
 But what we do must be hastily done." 
 
 In another apartment he found the person he sought — the same 
 who visited the Duke of Buckingham's harem, and, having relieved 
 Alice Bridgenortli from her confinement there, had occupied her 
 place, as has been already narrated, or rather intimated. She was 
 now much more plainly attired than when she had tantalized the 
 Duke with her presence •, but her dress had still something of the 
 Oriental character, which corresponded with the dark complexion 
 and quick eye of the wearer. She had the kerchief at her eyes as 
 Christian entered the apartment, but suddenly withdrew it, and, 
 flashing on him a glance of scorn and indignation, asked him 
 what he meant by intruding where his company was alike un- 
 sought for and undesired. 
 
 " A proper question, " said Christian, '' from a slave to her 
 master I" 
 
 " Rather say, a proper question, and of all questions the most • 
 proper, from a mistress to her slave ! Know you not, that from the 
 hour in which you discovered your ineffable baseness, you have 
 made me mistress of your lot? While you seemed but a demon of 
 vengeance, you commanded terror, and to good purpose •, but such 
 a foul fiend as thou hast of late shown thyself— such a very worth- 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 505 
 
 less, base Irick^r of the devil — such a sordid grovelling imp of 
 perdition, can gain nothing but scorn from a soul like mine." 
 
 ''Gallantly mouthed," said Christian, " and with good emphasis." 
 
 " Yes," answered Zarah, "• 1 can speak — sometimes — I can also 
 be mule; and that no one knows better than thou." 
 
 '' Thou art a spoiled child, Zarah, and dost but abuse the indul- 
 gence I entertain for your freakish humour," replied Christian ; 
 '' thy wits have been disturbed since ever you landed in England, 
 and all for the sake of one who cares for thee no more than for the 
 most worthless object who walks the streets, amongst whom he left 
 you to engage in a brawl for one he loved better." 
 
 " It is no matter," said Zarah, obviously repressing very bitter 
 emotion ; " it signfies not that he loves another better ; there is none 
 — no, none — that ever did or can love him so well." 
 
 " I pity you, Zarah !" said Christian, with some scorn. 
 
 '' I deserve your pity," she replied, " were your pity worth my 
 accepting. Whom have I to thank for my wretchedness but you? — 
 You bred me up in thirst of vengeance, ere I knew that good and 
 evil were any thing better than names 5— to gain your applause, and 
 to gratify the vanity you had excited, I have for years undergone a 
 penance, from which a thousand would have shrunk." 
 
 '' A thousand, Zarah I " answered Christian; " ay, a hundred 
 thousand, and a million to boot : the creature is not on earth, being 
 mere mortal woman, that would have undergone the thirtieth part 
 of thy self-denial." 
 
 ••' I believe it," said Zarah, drawing up her slight but elegant 
 figure ; " I believe il—I have gone through a trial that few indeed 
 could have sustained. I have renounced the dear intercourse of my 
 kind ; compelled my tongue only to utter^ like that of a spy, the 
 knowledge which my ear had only collected as a base eavesdropper. 
 This I have done for years— for years— and all for the sake of your 
 private applause — and the hope of vengeance on a woman, who, if 
 she did ill in murdering my father, has been bitterly repaid by 
 nourishing a serpent in her bosom, that had the tooth, but not the 
 deafened ear, of the adder." 
 
 cc Well— well— well," reiterated Christian; "and had you not 
 your reward in my approbation— in the consciousness of your own 
 unequalled dexterity— by which, superior to any thing of thy sex 
 that history has ever known, you endured what woman never before 
 endured, insolence without notice, admiration without answer, and 
 sarcasm without reply?" 
 
 " Not without reply !" said Zarah, fiercely. " Gave not Nature 
 to my feelings a course of expression more impressive than words? 
 and did not those tremble at my shrieks, who would have little 
 minded my entreaties or my complaints? And my proud lady, who 
 sauced her charities with the taunts she thought 1 heard not-shc 
 
5(y6 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 \vas justly paid by the passing of her dearest and'most secret con- 
 cerns into the hands of her mortal enemy ^ and the vain Earl — yet 
 he was a thing as insignificant as the plume that nodded in his cap ; 
 and the maidens and ladies who taunted me — I had, or can easily 
 have, my revenge upon them. — But there is one,'" she added, 
 looking upward, " who never taunted me ^ one whose generous 
 feelings could treat the poor dumb girl even as his sister ; who 
 never spoke word of her but it was to excuse or defend- — and you 
 tell me I must not love him, and that it is madness to love him I — 1 
 will be mad then, for I will love him till the latest breath of my 
 life !" 
 
 "Think but an instant, silly girl — silly but in one respect, since 
 in all others thou mayst brave (he world of women. Think that I 
 have proposed to thee, for the loss of this hopeless affection, a career 
 so brilliant! — Think only that it rests with thyself to be the wife — 
 the wedded wife— of the princely Buckingham ! With my talents 
 — with thy wit and beauty — with his passionate love of these at- 
 tributes — a short space might rank you among England's prin- 
 cesses. — Be but guided by me — he is now at a deadly pass— needs 
 every assistance to retrieve his fortunes — above all, that which we 
 alone can render him. Put yourself under my conduct, and not fate 
 itself shall prevent your wearing a Duchess's coronet." 
 
 "A coronet of thistle-down, entwined with thistle-leaves," said 
 Zarah. — " I know not a slighter thing than your Buckingham! I 
 saw him at your request — saw him when, as a man, he should have 
 shown himself generous and noble — I stood the proof at your desire, 
 for I laugh at those dangers from which the poor blushing wallers 
 of my sex shrink and withdraw themselves. What did I find him? 
 —a poor wavering voluptuary — his nearest attempt to passion like 
 the fire on a wretched stubble-field, that may singe, indeed, or 
 smoke, but can neither warm nor devour. Christian! were his 
 coronet at my feet this moment, I would sooner take up a crown of 
 gilded gingerbread, than extend my hand to raise it." 
 
 " You are mad, Zarah — with all your taste and talent, you are 
 utterly mad! But let Buckingham pass — Do you owe me nothing 
 on this emergency? — Nothing to one who rescued you from the 
 cruelly of your owner, the posture-master, to place you in ease 
 and affluence?" 
 
 "Christian," she replied, <*I owe you much. Had I not felt 1 
 did so, I would, as I have been often tempted to do, have denounced 
 thee lo the fierce Countess, who would have gibbeted you on her 
 feudal walls of Castle Rushin, and bid your family seek redress 
 from the eagles, that would long since have thatched their nest with 
 your hair, and fed their young ospreys with your flesh." 
 
 "I am truly glad you have had so much forbearance for me,"' 
 answered Christian. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 507 
 
 " I have It, in truth and In sincerity/' replied Zarah— '' not for 
 your benefits to me — such as they were, they were every one in- 
 terested, and conferred from the most selfish considerations. I have 
 overpaid them a thousand times by the devotion to your will, which 
 I have displayed at the greatest personal risk. But till of late I re- 
 spected your powers of mind — your inimitable command of passion 
 — the force of intellect which I have ever seen you exercise over all 
 others, from the bigot Bridgenorth to the debauched Buckingham 
 —in that, indeed, 1 have recognised my master." 
 
 "And those powers," said Christian, "are unlimited as ever-, and 
 with thy assistance, thou shall see (he strongest meshes that the laws 
 of civil society ever wove to limit the natural dignity of man, broke 
 asunder like a spider's web." 
 
 She paused and answered, " While a noble motive fired thee— 
 ay, a noble motive, though irregular — for I was born to gaze on 
 the sun which the pale daughters of Europe shrink from — I could 
 serve thee — I could have followed, while revenge or ambition had 
 guided thee — but love of wealth, and by what means acquired! — 
 What sympathy can I hold with that? — Wouldst thou not have 
 pandered to the lust of the King, though the object was thine own 
 orphan niece? — You smile? — Smile again when I ask you whether 
 you meant not my own prostitution, when you charged me to re- 
 main in the house of that wretched Buckingham?— Smile at that 
 question, and by Heaven I stab you to the heart!" And she thrust 
 her hand into her bosom, and partly showed the hilt of a small 
 poniard." 
 
 "And if I smile," said Christian, "it is but in scorn of so odious 
 an accusation. Girl, I will not tell thee the reason, but there exists 
 not on earth the living thing over whose safety and honour I would 
 keep watch as over thine. Buckingham's wife, indeed, I wished 
 thee; and through thy own beauty and thy wit, I doubled not to 
 bring the match to pass," 
 
 " Vain flatterer," said Zarah, yet seeming soothed even by the 
 flattery which she scoffed at, " you would persuade me that it was 
 honourable love which you expected the Duke was to have offered 
 me. How durst you urge so gross a deception, to which lime, 
 place, and circumstance, gave the lie?— How dare you now again 
 mention it, when you well know, that at the time you mention, 
 the Duchess was still in life?" 
 
 '' In life, but on her deathbed," said Christian ^ " and for time, 
 place, and circumstance, had your virtue, my Zarah, depended on 
 these, how couldst thou have been the creature thou art? I knew 
 Ihee all-sufficient to bid him defiance— else— for thou art dearer to 
 me than thou thinkest— I had not risked thee to win the Duke of 
 Buckingham-, ay, and the kingdom of England to boot.— So now, 
 wilt thou be ruled and go on with me ?". 
 
508 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Zarah, or Feoella, for our readers must have been long aware of 
 the identity of these two personages, cast down her eyes, and was 
 silent for a long time. "Christian," she said at last, in a solemn 
 voice, " if my ideas of right and of wrong be wild and incoherent, 
 I owe it, first, to the wild fever which my native sun communicated 
 to my veins j next, to my childhood, trained amidst the shifts, 
 tricks, and feats of jugglers and mountebanks ^ and then, to a youth 
 of fraud and deception, through the course thou didst prescribe me, 
 in which, I might, indeed, hear every thing, but communicate 
 with no one. The last cause of my wild errors, if such they are, 
 originates, O Christian, with you alone; by whose intrigues I was 
 placed with yonder lady, and who taught me, that to revenge my 
 father's death, was my first great duty on earth, and that I was 
 bound by nature to hate and injure her by whom I was fed and 
 fostered, though as she would have fed and caressed a dog, or any 
 other mute animal. I also think — for I will deal fairly with you — 
 that you had not so easily delected your niece, in the child whose 
 surprising agility was making yonder brutal mountebank's fortune ; 
 nor so readily induced him to part with his bond-slave, had you 
 not, for your own purposes, placed me under his charge, and re- 
 served the privilege of claiming me when you pleased. I could not, 
 under any other tuition, have identified myself with the personage 
 of a mute, which it has been your desire that I should perform 
 through life." 
 
 " You do me injustice, Zarah," said Christian — " I found you 
 capable of discharging, to an uncommon degree, a task necessary 
 to the avenging of your father's death — I consecrated you to it as I 
 consecrated my own life and hopes •, and you held the duty sacred, 
 till these mad feelings towards a youth who loves your cousin" 
 
 " Who — loves — my — cousin!" repeated Zarah (for we will con- 
 tinue to call her by her real name), slowly, and as if the words 
 dropped unconsciously from her lips. " Well — ^be it so; — Man of 
 many wiles, I will follow thy course for a little, a very little far- 
 ther; but lake heed — lease me not with remonstrances against the 
 treasure of my secret thoughts — I mean my most hopeless aflec- 
 lion to Julian Peveril — and bring me not as an assistant to any 
 snare which you may design to cast around him. You and your 
 Duke shall rue the hour most bitterly, in which you provoke me. 
 You may suppose you have me in your power; but remember, 
 the snakes of my burning climate are never so fatal as when you 
 grasp them." 
 
 " I care not for these Peverils," said Christian — " I care not for 
 their fate a poor straw, unless where it bears on that of the destined 
 woman, whose hands arc red in your father's blood. Believe me, 
 I can divide her fate and theirs. I will explain to you how. And 
 for the Duke, he may pass among men of the town for wit, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 500 
 
 and among soldiers for valour, anionj; courliers for manners and 
 for form ; and why, with his high rank and immense fortune, you 
 should throw away an opportunity, which, as I could now im- 
 prove it" 
 
 ''Speak not of it," said Zarah, " if thou wouldsl have our truce 
 — remember it is no peace — if, I say, thou wouldst have our Irucc 
 grow to be an hour old !" 
 
 "This, then," said Christian, with a last effort to work upon 
 the vanity of this singular being, "is she who pretended such 
 superiority to human passion, that she could walk indifferently 
 and unmoved through the halls of the prosperous, and the prison 
 cells of the captive, unknowing and unknown — sympathizing nei- 
 ther with the pleasures of the one, nor the woes of the other, but 
 advancing with sure, though silent steps, her own plans, in despite 
 and regardless of either!" 
 
 "My own plans!" said Zarah^-" T/zy plans, Christian— thy 
 plans of extorting from the surprised prisoners, means whereby to 
 convict them — thine own plans, formed with those more powerful 
 than thyself, to sound men's secrets, and, by using them as matter 
 of accusation, to keep up the great delusion of the nation." 
 
 " Such access was indeed given you as my agent," said Christian, 
 " and for advancing a great national change. But how did you use 
 it? — to advance your own insane passion." 
 
 " Insane?" said Zarah — " Had he been less than insane whom 
 I addressed, he and I had ere now been far from the toils which you 
 have pitched for us both. I had means prepared for every thing; 
 and ere this, the shores of Britain had been lost to our sight forever. 
 
 "The miserable dwarf, loo," said Christian — " Was it worthy 
 of you to delude that poor creature with flattering visions — lull him 
 asleep with drugs? yVas that my doing?" 
 
 "He was my destined tool," said Zarah, haughtily. "I re- 
 membered your lessons too well not to use him as such. Yet scorn 
 him not too much. I tell you, that yon very miserable dwarf, 
 whom I made my sport in the prison, — yon wretched abortion of 
 nature, I would select for a husband, ere I would marry your Buck- 
 ingham ; — the vain and imbecile pigmy has yet the warm heart 
 and noble feelings that a man should hold his highest honour." 
 
 "In God's name, then, take your own way," said Christian; 
 "and, for my sake, let never man hereafter limit a woman in the 
 use of her tongue, since he must make it amply up to her, in 
 allowing her the privilege of her own will. Who would have 
 thought it? But the coll has slipped the bridle, and I must needs 
 follow, since I cannot guide her." 
 
 Our narrative returns to the Court of King Charles, at Whitehall. 
 
510 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 ButO! 
 
 "What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop ; thou cruel, 
 Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature ! 
 Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, 
 Thatknew'st the very bottom of my soul. 
 That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, 
 Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy use? 
 
 Henry V. 
 
 At no period of his life, not even when that life was in immi- 
 nent danger, did the constitutional gaiety of Charles seem more 
 overclouded, than when waiting for the return of Chiffinch with the 
 Duke of Buckingham. His mind revolted at the idea, that the 
 person to whom he had been so particularly indulgent, and whom 
 he had selected as the friend of his lighter hours and amusements, 
 should prove capable of having tampered with a plot apparently 
 directed against his liberty and life. He more than once examined 
 the dwarf anew, but could extract nothing more than his first 
 narrative contained. The apparition of the female to him in the 
 cell of Newgate, he described in such fanciful and romantic co- 
 lours, that the King could not help thinking the poor man's head a 
 little turned; and, as nothing was found in the kettledrum, and 
 other musical instruments brought for the use of the Duke's band 
 of foreigners, he nourished some slight hope that the whole plan 
 might be either a mere jest, or that the idea of an actual conspiracy 
 was founded in mistake. 
 
 The persons who had been dispatched to watch the motions of 
 Mr. Weiver's congregation, brought back word that they had 
 quietly dispersed. It was known, at the same time, that they had 
 met in arms, but this augured no particular design of aggression, 
 at a lime when all true Protestants conceived themselves in danger 
 of immediate massacre; when the fathers of the city had repeatedly 
 called out the Train-Bands, and alarmed the citizens of London, 
 under the idea of an instant insurrection of the Catholics ] and when, 
 to sum the whole up, in the emphatic words of an alderman of the 
 day, there was a general belief that they would all waken some 
 unhappy morning with their throats cut. Who was to do these 
 dire deeds, it was more difficult to suppose ; but all admitted the 
 possibility that they might be achieved, since one Justice of the 
 peace was already murdered. There was, therefore, no inference 
 of hostile intentions against the Stale, to be decidedly derived from 
 a congregation of Protestants par excellence^ military from old 
 associations, bringing their arms with them to a place of worship, 
 in the midst of a panic so universal. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 511 
 
 Neither did the violent language of the minister, supposing that 
 to be proved, absolutely infer meditated violence. The favourite 
 parables of the preachers, and the metaphors and ornaments which 
 they selected, were at all times of a military cast; and the taking 
 the kingdom of heaven by storm, a strong and beautiful metaphor, 
 when used generally, as in Scripture, was detailed in their sermons 
 in all the technical language of the attack and defence of a fortified 
 place. The danger in short, whatever might have been its actual 
 degree, had disappeared as suddenly as a bubble upon the water, 
 when broken by a casual touch, and had left as little trace behind 
 it. It became, therefore, matter of much doubt, whether it had 
 ever actually existed. 
 
 While various reports were making from without, and while their 
 tenor was discussed by the King, and such nobles and statesmen as 
 he thought proper to consult on the occasion, a gradual sadness 
 and anxiety mingled with, and finally silenced, the mirth of the 
 evening. All became sensible that something unusual was going 
 forward 5 and the unwonted distance which Charles maintained 
 from his guests, while it added greatly to the dulness that began to 
 predominate in the presence-chamber, gave intimation that some- 
 thing unusual was labouring in the King's mind. 
 
 Thus play was neglected — the music was silent, or played with- 
 out being heard — gallants ceased to make compliments, and ladies 
 to expect them ; and a sort of apprehensive curiosity pervaded the 
 circle. Each asked the others why they were grave; and no an- 
 swer was returned, any more than could have been rendered by a 
 herd of cattle instinctively disturbed by the approach of a thunder- 
 storm. 
 
 To add to the general apprehension, it began to be whispered, 
 that one or two of the guests, who were desirous of leaving the 
 palace, had been informed no one could be permitted to retire until 
 the general hour of dismissal. And these gliding back into the 
 hall, communicated in whispers that the sentinels at the gates were 
 doubled, and that there was a troop of the Horse Guards drawn 
 up in the court — circumstances so unusual, as to excite the most 
 anxious curiosity. 
 
 Such was the slate of the Court, when wheels were heard without, 
 and the bustle which took place denoted the arrival of some person 
 of consequence. 
 
 " Here comes Chiflinch," said the King, " with his prey in his 
 clutch." 
 
 It was indeed the Duke of Buckingham; nor did he approach 
 the royal presence without emotion. On entering the court, the 
 fiambeaux which were borne around the carriage gleamed on the 
 scarlet coats, laced ha(s, and drawn broadswords of the Horse 
 
512 PEVERiL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Guards — a sight unusual, and calculated to strike terror into a 
 conscience which was none of the clearest. 
 
 The Duke alighted from the carriage, and only said to the officer, 
 whom he saw upon duty, "You are late under arms to-night, 
 Captain Carleton." 
 
 '*Such are our orders, sir," answered Carleton, with military 
 brevity •, and then commanded the four dismounted sentinels at the 
 under gate to make way for the Duke of Buckingham. His Grace 
 had no sooner entered, than he heard behind him the command, 
 " Move close up, sentinels — closer yet to the gate." And he felt as 
 if all chance of rescue were excluded by the sound. 
 
 As he advanced up the grand staircase, there were other symp- 
 toms of alarm and precaution. The Yeomen of the Guard were 
 mustered in unusual numbers, and carried carabines instead of 
 their halberds^ and the Gentlemen Pensioners, with their partisans; 
 appeared also in proportional force. In short, all that sort of de- 
 fence which the royal household possesses within itself, seemed, 
 for some hasty and urgent reason to have been placed under arms, 
 and upon duty. 
 
 Buckingham ascended the royal staircase with an eye attentive to 
 these preparations, and a step steady and slow, as if he counted each 
 step on which he trode. " Who," he asked himself, " shall insure 
 Christian's fidelity? Let him but stand fast, and we are secure. 
 Otherwise" ^ . 
 
 As he shaped the alternative, he entered the presence-chamber. 
 
 The King stood in the midst of the apartment, surrounded by the 
 personages with whom he had been consulting. The rest of the 
 brilliant assembly, scattered into groups, looked on at some dis- 
 tance. All were silent when Buckingham entered, in hopes of re- 
 ceiving some explanation of the mysteries of the evening. All bent 
 forward, though etiquette forbade them to advance, to catch, if 
 possible, something of what was about to pass betwixt the King and 
 his intriguing statesman. At the same time, those counsellors who 
 stood around Charles, drew back on either side, so as to permit the 
 Duke to pay his respects to his Majesty in the usual form. He 
 went through the ceremonial with his accustomed grace, but was 
 received by Charles with much unwonted gravity. 
 
 " We have waited for you for some time, my Lord Duke. It is 
 long since Chiffinch left us, to request your attendance here. I sec 
 you are elaborately dressed. Your toilette was needless on the pre- 
 sent occasion." 
 
 " Needless to the splendour of your Majesty's Court," said the 
 Duke, " but not needless on my part. This chanced to be Black 
 Monday at York-Place, and my club of Pendables were in full 
 glee when your Majesty's summons arrived. I could not be in the 
 company of OglC; Maniduc, Dawson, and so forth, but what 1 must 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 513 
 
 needs make some preparation, and some oblulion, ere entering the 
 circle here." 
 
 " I {rust (he purification will be complete," said the King, without 
 any tendency to the smile which always softened features, that, 
 ungilded by its influence, were dark, harsh, and even severe. ''We 
 wished to ask your Grace concerning the import of a sort of musical 
 mask which you designed us here, but which miscarried, as we 
 are given to understand." 
 
 " It must have been a great miscarriage indeed,*' said the Duke, 
 *' since your Majesty looks so serious on it. I thought to have 
 done your Majesty a pleasure ( as I have seen you condescend to 
 be pleased wilh such passages), by sending the contents of that 
 bass-viol 5 but I fear the jest has been unacceptable — I fear the 
 fireworks may have done mischief." 
 
 " Not the mischief they were designed for, perhaps," said the 
 King, gravely •, "you see, my lord, we are all alive, and unsinged." 
 
 " Long may your Majesty remain so," said the Duke ^ " yet I 
 see that there is something misconstrued on my part—it must be a 
 matter unpardonable, however little intended, since it hath dis- 
 pleased so indulgent a master." 
 
 " Too indulgent a master, indeed, Buckingham," replied the 
 King •, '' and the fruit of my indulgence has been to change loyal 
 men into traitors." 
 
 " May it please your Majesty, I cannot understand this," said the 
 Duke. 
 
 " Follow us, my lord," answered Charles, " and we will en- 
 deavour to explain our meaning." 
 
 Attended by the same lords who stood around him, and followed 
 by the Duke of Buckingham, on whom all eyes were fixed, Charles 
 retired into the same cabinet which had been the scene of repeated 
 consultations in the course of the evening. There, leaning with his 
 arms crossed on the back of an easy-chair, Charles proceeded to 
 interrogate the suspected nobleman. 
 
 " Let us be plain wilh each other. Speak out, Buckingham. 
 What, in one word, was to have been the regale intended for us 
 this evening?" 
 
 '' A petty mask, my liege. I had destined a little dancing-girl to 
 come out of that instrument, who, I thought, would have per- 
 formed to your Majesty's liking— a few Chinese fireworks there 
 were, which, thinking the entertainment was to have taken place 
 in the marble hall, might, I hoped, have been discharged with good 
 effect, and without the slightest alarm, at the first appearance of my 
 little sorceress, and were designed to have masked, as it were, her 
 entrance upon the stage. I hope there have been no perukes singed 
 —no ladies frightened— no hopes of noble descent interrupted by 
 my ill-fancied jest ? " 
 
 33 
 
514 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 " We have seen no such fireworks, my lord^ and your female 
 dancer, of whom we now hear for Ihe first time, came forth in the 
 form of our old acquaintance Geoffrey Hudson, whose dancing days 
 are surely ended." 
 
 "Your Majesty surprises me I I beseech you, let Christian be 
 sent for — Edward Christian — he will be found lodging in a large 
 old house near Sharper the cutler's, in the Strand. As I live by 
 bread, sire, I trusted him with the arrangement of this matter, as 
 indeed the dancing-girl was his property. If he has done aught to 
 dishonour my concert, or disparage my character, he shall die 
 under the baton." 
 
 '' It is singular," said the King, " and I have often observed it, 
 that this fellow Christian bears the blame of all men's enormities— 
 he performs the part which in a great family is usually assigned to 
 that mischief-doing personage. Nobody. When Chiffinch blunders, 
 he always quotes Christian. When Sheffield writes a lampoon, I 
 am sure to hear of Christian having corrected, or copied, or dis- 
 persed it — he is the dme damnee of every one about my Court — 
 the scapegoat, who is to carry away all their iniquities; and he will 
 have a cruel load to bear into the wilderness. But for Buckingham's 
 sins, in particular, he is the regular and uniform sponsor ; and I 
 am convinced his Grace expects Christian should suffer every 
 penalty which he has incurred in this world or the next." 
 
 " Not so," with the deepest reverence replied the Duke. " I 
 have no hope of being either hanged or damned by proxy, but it 
 is clear some one hath tampered with and altered my device. If I 
 am accused of aught, let me at least hear the charge, and see my 
 accuser." 
 
 " That is but fair," said the King. " Bring our little friend from 
 behind the chimney-board. [Hudson being accordingly produced, 
 he continued.] There stands the Duke of Buckingham. Repeat 
 before him the tale you told us. Let him hear what were those 
 contents of the bass-viol which were removed that you might enter 
 it. Be not afraid of any one, but speak the truth boldly." 
 
 *' May it please your Majesty," said Hudson, " fear is a thing 
 unknown to me." 
 
 " His body has no room to hold such a passion ; or there is too 
 little of it to be worth fearing for," said Buckingham. — " But let 
 him speak." 
 
 Ere Hudson had completed his tale, Buckingham interrupted 
 him by exclaiming, '' Is it possible that I can be suspected by your 
 Majesty on the word of this pitiful variety of the baboon tribe ? " 
 
 " Villain-Lord, I appeal thee to the combat ! " said the little man, 
 highly offended at the appellation thus bestowed on him. 
 
 '' La you there now I " said the Duke — "• The little animal is 
 quite crazed, and defies a man who need ask no other weapon than 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 5l5 
 
 a corking-pin to run him through the hings, and whose single kick 
 could hoist him from Dover to Calais without yacht or wherry. 
 And what can you expect from an idiot, who is engoue of a com- 
 mon rope-dancing-girl, that capered on a packthread at Ghent in 
 Flanders, unless Ihey were to club their talents to set up a boolh 
 at Barlholomew-Fair ? — Is it not plain, that supposing Ihe little 
 animal is not malicious, as indeed his whole kind bear a general 
 and most cankered malice against those who have the ordinary 
 proportions of humanity — Grant, I say, that this were not a ma- 
 licious falsehood of his, why, what does it amount to? — That he 
 has mistaken squibs and Chinese crackers for arms! He says not 
 he himself touched or handled them \ and judging by the sight alone, 
 I question if the infirm old creature, when any whim or precon- 
 ception hath possession of his noddle, can distinguish betwixt a 
 blunderbuss and a black-pudding." 
 
 The horrible clamour which the dwarf made so soon as he heard 
 this disparagement of his military skill— the haste with which he 
 blundered out a detail of his warlike experiences — and the absurd 
 grimaces which he made in order to enforce his story, provoked 
 not only the risibility of Charles, but even of the statesmen around 
 him, and added absurdity to the motley complexion of the scene. 
 The King terminated this dispute, by commanding the dwarf to 
 withdraw. 
 
 A more regular discussion of his evidence was then resumed, and 
 Ormond was the first who pointed out, that it went farther than had 
 been noticed, since the little man had mentioned a certain extraor- 
 dinary and treasonable conversation held by the Duke's dependents, 
 by whom he had been conveyed to the palace. 
 
 " I am sure not to lack my lord of Ormond's good word," said 
 the Duke, scornfully \ " but I defy him alike, and all my other 
 enemies, and shall find it easy to show that this alleged conspiracy, 
 if any grounds for it at all exist, is a mere sham-plot, got up to 
 turn the odium justly attached to the Papists upon the Protestants. 
 Here is a half-hanged creature, who, on the very day he escapes 
 from the gallows, which many believe was his most deserved destiny, 
 comes, to lake away the reputation of a Protestant peer— and, on 
 what? — on the treasonable conversation of three or four German 
 fiddlers, heard through the sound-holes of a violoncello, and that, 
 too, when the creature was incased in it, and mounted on a man's 
 shoulders I The urchin, too, in repealing their language, shows 
 he understands German as little as my horse docs ^ and if he did 
 rightly hear, truly comprehend, and accurately report what they 
 said, still, is my honour to be touched by the language held by such 
 persons as these are, with whom I have never communicated, 
 otherwise than men of my rank do with those of their caUing and 
 capacity?— Pardon me, sire, if I presume to say, that the profound 
 
516 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Statesmen who endeavoured to stifle the Popish conspiracy by the 
 pretended Meal-tub Plot, will take lillle more credit by their figments 
 about fiddles and concertos." 
 
 The assistant counsellors looked at each other •, and Charles turned 
 on his heel, and walked through the room with long steps. 
 
 At this period the Peverils, father and son, were announced to 
 have reached the palace, and were ordered into the royal presence. 
 
 These gentlemen had received the royal mandate at a moment 
 of great interest. After being dismissed from their confinement by 
 the elder Bridgenorth, in the manner and upon the terms which 
 the reader must have gathered from the conversation of the latter 
 with Christian, they reached the lodgings of Lady Peveril, who 
 awaited them with joy, mingled with terror and uncertainty. The 
 news of the acquittal had reached her by the exertions of the faith- 
 ful Lance Outram, but her mind had been since harassed by the 
 long delay of their appearance, and rumours of disturbances which 
 had taken place in Fleet-street and in the Strand. 
 
 When the first rapturous meeting was over. Lady Peveril, with 
 an anxious look towards her son, as if recommending caution, said 
 she was now about to present to him the daughter of an old friend, 
 whom he had newer ( there was an emphasis on the word ) seen be- 
 fore. " This young lady," she continued, '^ was the only child of 
 Colonel Milford, in North Wales, who had sent her to remain under 
 her guardianship for an interval, finding himself unequal to attempt 
 the task of her education." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said Sir Geoffrey, "Dick Mitford must be old now 
 — beyond the threescore and ten, I think. He was no chicken, 
 though a cock of the game, when he joined the Marquis of Hert- 
 ford at Namplwich with two hundred wild Welshmen. — Before 
 George, Julian, I love that girl as if she were my own flesh and 
 blood I Lady Peveril would never have got through this work with- 
 out her •, and Dick Milford sent me a thousand pieces, too, in ex- 
 cellent lime, when there was scarce a cross to keep the devil from 
 dancing in our pockets, much more for these law-doings. I used 
 it without scruple, for there is wood ready to be cut at Martindaio 
 when we gel down there, and Dick Mitford knows I would have 
 done the like for him. Strange that he should have been the only 
 one of my friends to reflect I might want a few pieces." 
 
 Whilst Sir Geoffrey thus run on, the meeling betwixt Alice and 
 Julian Peveril was accomplished, without any particular notice on 
 his §ide, except to say, '' Kiss her, Julian — kiss her. What Ihe 
 devil ! is that Ihe way you learned to accosl a lady at the Isle of 
 Man, as if her lips were a red-hot horse-shoe? — And do not you 
 be offended, my pretty one •, Julian is naturally bashful, and has 
 been bred by an old lady, but you will find him, by and by, as gal- 
 lant as thou hast found me, my princess. — And now, Dame Peveril, 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 5i7 
 
 to dinner, to dinner! — Iheoldfox must have liis belly limber, Uiough 
 the hounds have been after him ihe whole day." 
 
 Lance, whose joyous congratulations were next to be undergone, 
 had the consideration to cut them short, in order lo provide a plain 
 but hearty meal from the next cook's- shop, at which Julian sat like 
 one enchanted, betwixt his mistress and his molher. He easily con- 
 ceived that the last was the confidential friend lo whom Bridge- 
 north had finally committed the charge of his daughter, and his 
 only anxiety now was, to anticipate the confusion Ihat was likely to 
 arise when her real parentage was made known to his father. 
 Wisely, however, he suffered not these anticipations to interfere 
 with the delight of his present situation, in the course of which, 
 many slight but delightful tokens of recognition were exchanged, 
 without censure, under the eye of Lady Peveril, under cover of 
 the boisterous mirth of the old Baronet, who spoke for two, ate for 
 four, and drank wine for half-a-dozen. His progress in the latter 
 exercise might have proceeded rather too far, had he nol been 
 interrupted by a genlleman bearing the Ring's orders, that he 
 should instantly attend upon the presence at Whitehall, and bring 
 his son along with him. 
 
 Lady Peveril was alarmed, and Alice grew pale with sympathetic 
 anxiety ; but the old Knight, who never saw more than what lay 
 straight before him, set it down to the King's hasty anxiety to con- 
 gratulate him on his escape ; an interest on his Majesty's part which 
 he considered by no means extravagant, conscious that it was reci- 
 procal on his own side. It came upon him, indeed, with the more 
 jojful surprise, that he had received a previous hint, ere he left 
 the court of justice, that it would be prudent in him lo go down to 
 Martindale before presenting himself at Court,— a restriction which 
 he supposed as repugnant to his Majesty's feelings as it was to his 
 own. 
 
 While he consulted with Lance Outram about cleaning his buff- 
 belt and sword-hilt, as well as time admitted. Lady Peveril had the 
 means to give Julian more distinct information, that Alice was 
 under her protection by her father's authority, and with his con- 
 sent to their union, if it could be accomplished. She added, that it 
 was her determination to employ the mediation of the Countess of 
 Derby, to overcome the obstacles which might be foreseen on the 
 part of Sir Geoffrey. 
 
518 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 CHAPTER XLTX. 
 
 In the King's name, 
 Let fall your swords and daggers I 
 Critic. 
 
 When the falher and son entered the cabinet of audience, it 
 was easily visible that Sir Geoffrey had obeyed Ihe summons as 
 he would have done the trumpet's call to horsey and his dishevelled 
 grey locks and half-arranged dress, though they showed zeal and 
 haste, such as he would have used when Charles I. called him to 
 attend a council of war, seemed rather indecorous in a pacific 
 drawing-room. He paused at Ihe door of the cabinet, but when 
 the King called on him to advance, came hastily forward, with 
 every feeling of his earlier and later life afloat and contending in 
 his memory, Ihrew himself on his knees before the King, seized 
 his hand, and, without even an effort to speak, wept aloud. 
 Charles, who generally felt deeply so long as an impressive object 
 was before his eyes, indulged for a moment the old man's rapture. 
 — "My good Sir Geoffrey," he said, " you have had some hard 
 measure ^ we owe you amends, and will find time to pay our 
 debt." 
 
 '- No suffering— no debt," said the old man ; " I cared not what 
 the rogues said of me— I knew they could never get twelve honest 
 fellows to believe a word of their most damnable lies. I did long 
 to beat them when they called me traitor to your Majesty — that I 
 confess — But to have such an early opportunity of paying my duty 
 to your Majesty, overpays it all. The villains would have persuaded 
 me I ought not to come to Court— aha I " 
 
 The Duke of Ormond perceived that the King coloured much ; 
 for in truth it was from the Court that the private intimation had 
 been given to Sir Geoffrey to go down to the country, without 
 appearing at Whitehall ; and he, moreover, suspected that the jolly 
 old Knight had not risen from his dinner altogether dry-lipped, 
 after the fatigues of a day so agitating.- — ^" My old friend," he 
 whispered, " you forget that your son is to be presented — permit 
 me to have that honour." 
 
 " I crave your Grace's pardon humbly," said Sir Geoffrey, " but 
 it is an honour I design for myself, as I apprehend no one can so 
 utterly surrender and deliver him up to his Majesty's service as 
 the father that begot him is entitled to do — Julian, come forward, 
 and kneel. — Here he is, please your Majesty — Julian Peveril — a 
 chip of the old block— as stout, though scarce so tall a tree, as the 
 oM irunk when at the freshest. Take him to you, sir, for a faithful 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 519 
 
 servant, a 'vendre et a pendre, as the French say ^ if he fears 
 fire or steel, axe or gallows, in your Majesty's service, I re- 
 nounce him—- he is no son of mine— I disown him, and he may 
 go lo the Isle of Man, the Isle of Dogs, or the Isle of Devils, for 
 what I care." 
 
 Charles winked to Ormond, and having, with his wonted cour- 
 tesy, expressed his thorough conviction that Julian would imitate 
 Ihe loyalty of his ancestors, and especially of his father, added, 
 that ho believed his Grace of Ormond bad something to commu- 
 nicate which was of consequence to his service. Sir Geoflrey 
 made his mibtary reverence at this hint, and marched off in the 
 rear of the Duke, who proceeded to enquire of him concerning the 
 events of the day. Charles, in the meanwhile, having, in the first 
 place, ascertained that the son was not in the same genial condi- 
 tion with the father, demanded and received from him a precise 
 account of all the proceedings subsequent to the trial. 
 
 Julian, with the plainness and precision which such a subject 
 demanded, when treated in such a presence, narrated all that had 
 happened, down to the entrance of Bridgenorth j and his Majesty 
 was so much pleased with his manner, that he congratulated Ar- 
 lington on their having gained the evidence of at least one man of 
 sense to these dark and mysterious events. But when Bridgenorth 
 was brought upon the scene, Julian hesitated to bestow a name 
 upon him ^ and although he mentioned the chapel which he had 
 seen tilled with men in arms, and the violent language of the 
 preacher, he added, with earnestness, that notwithstanding all 
 this, the men departed without coming to any extremity, and had 
 all left the place before his father and he were set at liberty. 
 
 " And you retired quietly to your dinner in Fleet-street, young 
 man," said the King, severely, " without giving a magistrate no- 
 tice of the dangerous meeting which was held in the vicinity of 
 our palace, and who did not conceal their intention of proceeding 
 lo extremities?" 
 
 Peveril blushed, and was silent. The King frowned, and stepped 
 aside to communicate with Ormond, who reported that the father 
 seemed to have known nothing of the matter. 
 
 '' And the son, I am sorry to say," said the King, " seems more 
 unwilling to speak the truth than I should have expected. We 
 have all variety of evidence in this singular investigation— a mad 
 witness like the dwarf, a drunken witness like the father, and now 
 a dumb witness. — Young man," he continued, addressing Julian, 
 '' your behaviour is less frank than I expected from your father's 
 son. I must know who this person is with whom you held such 
 familiar intercourse — you know him, I presume?" 
 
 Julian acknowledged that he did, but, kneeling on one knee, 
 entreated his Majesty's forgiveness for concealing his namcj " he 
 
620 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 had been freed," he said, '* from his confinemenf, on promising lo 
 that effect." 
 
 " Thai was a promise made, by your own account, under com- 
 pulsion,*' answered Ihe King, " and I cannot authorize your keep- 
 ing it ; it is your duty lo speak the truth — if you are afraid of 
 Buckingham, the Duke shall withdraw." 
 
 " I have no reason to fear the Duke of Buckingham," said Pe- 
 veril; ''that I had an affair with one of his household, was the 
 man's own fault, and not mine." 
 
 *' Oddsfish! " said the King, " the light begins to break in on 
 me — I thought I remembered thy physiognomy. Wert thou not 
 the very fellow whom I met at Chifiinch's yonder morning? — The 
 matter escaped me since; but now I recollect thou saidst (hen, 
 that thou werl Ihe son of that jolly old three-bottle Baronet 
 yonder." 
 
 " It is true," said Julian, "that I met your Majesty at Master 
 GhilRnch's and I am afraid had the misfortune to displease you : 
 but'' 
 
 " No more of that, young man — no more of that— But J recollect 
 you had with you that beautiful dancing siren — Buckingham, I 
 will hold you gold to silver, that she was the intended tenant of that 
 bass-fiddle?" 
 
 " Your Majesty has rightly guessed it," said the Duke; "and I 
 suspect she has put a trick upon me, by substituting the dwarf in 
 her place ; for Christian thinks " 
 
 " Damn Christian I " said the King, hastily—" I wish they would 
 bring him hither, that universal referee." — And as the wish was 
 uttered, Christian's arrival was announced. "Let him attend," 
 said the King : " But hark — a thought strikes me. — Here, Master 
 Peveril — yonder dancing maiden, that introduced you lo us by the 
 singular agility of her performance, is she not, by your account, a 
 dependant on the Countess of Derby ? " 
 
 " I have known her such for years," answered Julian. 
 
 " Then will we call the Countess hither," said the King : " it is 
 fit we should learn who this little fairy really is ; and if she be now 
 so absolutely at the beck of Buckingham, and this Master Christian 
 of his— why I think it would be but charity to lei her ladyship 
 know so much, since I question if she will wish, in that case, lo 
 retain her in her service. Besides," he continued, speaking apart, 
 " this Julian, to whom suspicion attaches in these matters from his 
 obstinate silence, is also of Ihe Countess's household. We will sift 
 this matter to the bottom, and do justice to all." 
 
 The Countess of Derby, hastily summoned, entered the royal 
 closet at one door, just as Christian and Zarah, or Fenella, were 
 ushered in by the other. The old Knight of Martindale, who had 
 ere this returned to the i)resence, was scarce controlled, even by 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. . 521 
 
 Ihe signs which she made, so much was he desirous of greetin^j his 
 old friend ; but as Ormond laid a kind restraining hand upon his 
 arm, he was prevailed on to sit still. 
 
 The Countess, after a deep reverence to the King, acknowledged 
 the rest of the nobility present by a slighter reverence, smiled to 
 Julian Peveril, and looked with surprise at the unexpected appari- 
 tion of Fenella. Buckingham bit his lip, for he saw the intro- 
 duction of Lady Derby was likely to confuse and embroil every 
 preparation which he had arranged for his defence; and he stole 
 a glance at Christian, whose eye, when fixed on the Countess, 
 assumed the deadly sharpness which sparkles in the adder's, while 
 his cheek grew almost black under the influence of strong emo- 
 tion. 
 
 " Is there any one in this presence whom your ladyship recog- 
 nises," said the King graciously, " besides your old friends of 
 Ormond and Arlington?" 
 
 " I see, my liege, two worthy friends of my husband's house," 
 replied the Countess; " Sir Geoffrey Peveril and his son — the lat- 
 ter a distinguished member of my son's household." 
 
 '* Any one else?" continued the King. 
 
 " An unfortunate female of my family, who disappeared from. the 
 Island of Man at the same time when Julian Peveril left it upon 
 business of importance. She was thought to have fallen from the 
 cliff into the sea." 
 
 *'Had your ladyship any reason to suspect — pardon me," said 
 the King, " for putting such a question — any improper intimacy 
 between Master Peveril and this same female attendant?" 
 
 "My liege," said the Countess, colouring indignantly, "my 
 household is of reputation.'.' 
 
 '' Nay, my lady, be not angry," said the King ; " I did but ask 
 — such things will befall in the best regulated families." 
 
 " Not in mine, sire," said the Countess. " Besides that, in com- 
 mon pride and in common honesty, Juhan Peveril is incapable of 
 intriguing with an unhappy creature, removed by her misfortune 
 almost beyond the limits of humanity." 
 
 Zarah looked at her, and compressed her lips, as if to keep in 
 the words that would fain break from them. 
 
 " I know not how it is," said the King—" What your ladyship 
 says may be true in the main, yet menu's tastes have strange va- 
 garies. This girl is lost in Man so soon as the youth leaves it, and 
 if found in Saint James's Park, bouncing and dancing like a fairy, 
 so soon as he appears in London." 
 
 " Impossible!" said the Countess; " she cannot dance." 
 
 " I beheve," said the King, " she can do more feats than your 
 ladyship either suspects or would approve of." 
 
 The Countess drew up, and was indignantly silent. 
 
622 PEVERIt OF THE PEAK. 
 
 The King proceeded—" No sooner is Peveril in Newgate, Ihan, 
 hy the account of (he venerable little gentleman, this merry mai- 
 den is even (here also for company. Now, without enquiring how 
 she Pot in, I think charitably that she had better taste than to come 
 there on the dwarfs account.— Ah ha ! I think Master Julian is 
 touched in conscience!" 
 
 Julian did indeed start as the King spoke, for it reminded him 
 of the midnight visit in his cell. 
 
 The King looked fixedly at him, and then proceeded — " Well, 
 gentlemen, Peveril is carried to his trial, and is no sooner at liberty, 
 than we find him in the house where the Duke of Buckingham 
 was arranging what he calls a musical mask.^ — Egad, I hold it next 
 to certain, that this wench put the change on his Grace, and popt 
 the poor dwarf into the bass-viol, reserving her own more pre- 
 cious hours to be spent with Master Julian Peveril. — Think you 
 not so, Sir Christian, you, the universal referee? Is there any 
 truth in (his conjecture ?" 
 
 Christian stole a glance on Zarah, and read that in her eye which 
 embarrassed him. " He did not know," he said; '' he had indeed 
 engaged this unrivalled performer to take the proposed part in the 
 mask ; and she was to have come forth in the midst of a shower of 
 lambent fire, very artificially prepared with perfumes, to overcome 
 the smell of the powder-, but he knew not why — excepting that 
 she was wilful and capricious, like all great geniuses,' — she had 
 certainly spoiled the concert bv cramming in that more bulky 
 dwarf." 
 
 " I should like," said the King, " to see this little maiden stand 
 forth, and bear witness, in such manner as she can express her- 
 self, on this mysterious matter. Can any one here understand her 
 mode of communication?" 
 
 Christian said, he knew something of it since he had become 
 acquainted with her in London. The Countess spoke not till the 
 King asked her, and then owned dryly, that she had necessarily 
 some habitual means of intercourse with one who had been im- 
 mediately about her person for so many years. 
 
 '^ I should think," said Charles, " that this same Master Julian 
 Peveril has the more direct key to her language, after all we have 
 heard." 
 
 The King looked first aftPeveril, who blushed like a maiden at 
 the inference which the King's remark implied, and then suddenly 
 turned his eyes on the supposed mule, on whose cheek a faint co- 
 lour was dying away. A moment afterwards, at a signal from the 
 Countess, Fenella, or Zarah, stepped forward, and having kneeled 
 down and kissed her lady's hand, stood with her arms folded on 
 her breast, with an humble air, as different from that which she 
 wore in the harem of the Duke of Buckingham, as that of a Mag- 
 
PEVERll. OF THE PEAK. &23 
 
 (lalen from a Judith. Yet this was the least show of her latent of 
 versatility, for so well did she play the part of the dumb girl, that 
 Buckingham, sharp as his discernment was, remained undecided 
 whether the creature which stood before him could possibly be the 
 same with her, who had, in a different dress, made such an im- 
 pression on his imagination, or indeed was the imperfect creature 
 she now represented. She had at once all that could mark the im- 
 perfection of hearing, and all that could show the wonderful ad- 
 dress by which nature so often makes up for the deficiency. There 
 was the lip that trembled not at any sound — the seeming insensibi- 
 lity to the conversation which passed around ^ while, on the other 
 hand, was the quick and vivid glance, that seemed anxious to de- 
 vour the meaning of those sounds, which she could gather no 
 otherwise than by the motion of the lips. 
 
 Examined after her own fashion, Zarah confirmed the tale of 
 Christian in all its points, and admitted that she had deranged the 
 project laid for a mask, by placing the dwarf in her own stead \ 
 the cause of her doing so she declined to assign, and the Countess 
 pressed her no farther. 
 
 " Every thing tells to exculpate my Lord of Buckingham," said 
 Charles, '' from so absurd an accusation •, the dwarf's testimony is 
 too fantastic, that of the two Peverils does not in the least affect the 
 Duke •, that of the dumb damsel completely contradicts the possi- 
 bility of his guilt. Melhinks, my lords, we should acquaint him 
 that he stands acquitted of a complaint, too ridiculous to have ever 
 been subjected to a more serious scrutiny than we have hastily made 
 upon this occasion." 
 
 Arlington bowed in acquiescence, but Ormond spoke plainly. — • 
 ** I should suffer, sire, in the opinion of the Duke of Buckingham, 
 brilliant as his talents are known to be, should I say that I am 
 satisfied in my own mind on this occasion. But I subscribe to the 
 spirit of the times; and I agree it would be highly dangerous, on 
 such accusations as we have been able to collect, to impeach the 
 character of a zealous Protestant like his Grace Had he been a 
 Catholic, under such circumstances of suspicion, the Tower had 
 been too good a prison for him." 
 
 Buckingham bowed to the Duke of Ormond, with a meaning 
 which even his triumph could not disguise. — '■^Tumelapagherai T 
 he muttered, in a lone of deep and abiding resentment; but the 
 stout old Irishman, who had long since braved his utmost wrath, 
 cared little for this expression of his displeasure. 
 
 The King then, signing to the olher nobles to pass into the pub- 
 lic apartments, stopped Buckingham as he was about to follow 
 them ; and, when they were alone, asked, with a significant lone, 
 which brought all the blood in the Duke's veins into his coun- 
 tenance, " When was it, George, that your useful friend Colonel 
 
524 PEVERIL OF THE PEA.K. 
 
 Blood became a musician? — You are silent," he said; ''do not 
 deny the charge, for yonder villain, once seen, is remembered for 
 ever. Down, down on your knees, George, and acknowledge that 
 you have abused my easy temper. — Seek for no apology — none 
 will serve your turn. I saw the man myself, among your Germans 
 as you call them ^ and you know what I must needs believe from 
 such a circumstance." 
 
 " Believe that I have been guilty, — most guilty, my liege and 
 King," said the Duke, conscience-struck, and kneeling down ;— 
 "believe that I was misguided — that I was mad — Believe any 
 thing but that I was capable of harming, or being accessory to 
 harm, your person." 
 
 '' I do not believe it," said the King ; " I think of you, Villiers, 
 as the companion of my dangers and my exile, and am so far from 
 supposing you mean worse than you say, that I am convinced you 
 acknowledge more than you ever meant to attempt." 
 
 " By all that is sacred," said the Duke, still kneeling, " had I 
 not been involved to the extent of life and fortune with the villain 
 Christian" 
 
 " Nay, if you bring Christian on the stage again," said the King, 
 smiling, "it is time for me to withdraw. Come, Villiers, rise — 
 I forgive thee, and only recommend one act of penance — the curse 
 you yourself bestowed on the dog who bit you — marriage, and re- 
 tirement to your country-seat." 
 
 The Duke rose abashed, and followed the King into the circle, 
 which Charles entered, leaning on the shoulder of his repentant 
 peer 5 to whom he showed so much countenance, as led (he most 
 acute observers present, to doubt the possibility of there existing 
 any real cause for the surmises to the Duke's prejudice. 
 
 The Countess of Derby had in the meanwhile consulted with the 
 Duke of Ormond, with the Peverils, and with her other friends; 
 and, by their unanimous advice, though with considerable diffi- 
 culty, became satisfied, that to have thus shown herself at Court, 
 was sufficient to vindicate the honour of her house ; and that il was 
 her wisest course, after having done so, to retire to her insular 
 dominions, without farther provoking the resentment of a power- 
 ful faction. She took farewell of the King in form, and demanded 
 his permission to carry back with her the helpless creature who 
 had so strangely escaped from her protection, into a world where 
 her condition rendered her so subject to every species of mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 " Will your ladyship forgive me ?" said Charles. " I have studied 
 your sex long — T am mistaken if your little maiden is not as capable 
 of caring for herself as any of us." 
 
 " Impossible ! " said the Countess. 
 
 "Possible, and most true," whispered the King. "I will in 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 625 
 
 stantly convince you of Ihe fact, though the experiment is too delicate 
 to be made by any but your ladyship. Yonder she stands, looking as 
 if she heard no more than the marble pillar against which she leans. 
 Now, if Lady Derby will contrive either to place her hand near the 
 region of the damsel's heart, or at least on her arm, so that she can 
 feel the sensation of the blood when the pulse increases, then do 
 you, my Lord of Ormond, beckon Julian Peveril out of sight — I 
 will show you in a moment that it can stir at sounds spoken." 
 
 The Countess, much surprised, afraid of some embarrassing 
 pleasantry on the part of Charles, yet unable to repress her curi- 
 osity, placed herself near Fenella, as she called her little mute ; 
 and, while making signs to her, contrived to place her hand on 
 her wrist. 
 
 At this moment the King, passing near them , said "This is 
 a horrid deed— the villain Christian has slabbed young Peveril I " 
 
 The mute evidence of the pulse, which bounded as if a cannon 
 had been discharged close by the poor girl's ear, was accompanied 
 by such a loud scream of agony, as distressed, while it starlled, 
 the good-natured monarch himself. "I did but jest," he said ^ 
 " Julian is well, my pretty maiden. I only used the wand of a cer- 
 tain blind deity, called Cupid, to bring a deaf and dumb vassal of 
 his to the exercise of her faculties '." 
 
 " I am betrayed ! " she said, with her eyes fixed on the ground 
 — "I am betrayed! — and it is fit that she, whose life has been 
 spent in practising treason on others, should be caught in her own 
 snare. — But where is my tutor in iniquity? — Where is Christian, 
 who taught me to play the part of spy on this unsuspicious lady, 
 until I had wellnigh delivered her into his bloody hands ? " 
 
 "This," said the King, " craves more secret examination. Let 
 all leave the apartment who are not immediately connected with 
 these proceedings, and let this Christian be again brought before 
 us. — Wretched man," he continued, addressing Christian, " what 
 wiles are these you have practised, and by what extraordinary 
 means ? " 
 
 " She has betrayed me, then I " said Christian — " Betrayed me 
 to bonds and death, merely for an idle passion, which can never be 
 successful ! — But know, Zarah," he added, addressing her sternly, 
 " when my life is forfeited through thy evidence, the daughter has 
 murdered the father I " 
 
 The unfortunate girl stared on him in astonishment. "You 
 said," at length she stammered forth, " that I was the daughter of 
 your slaughtered brother? " 
 
 " That was partly to reconcile thee to the part thou werl to play 
 in my destined drama of vengeance — partly to hide what men call 
 
 ' Note I., p. 527. 
 
526 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Ihe infamy of thy birth. But my daughter thou art ! and from the 
 Eastern clime, in which thy mother was born, you derive that fierce 
 torrent of passion which I laboured to train to my purposes, but 
 which, lurned into another channel, has become the cause of your 
 father's destruction. — My destiny is the Tower, I suppose?" 
 
 He spoke these words wilh great composure, and scarce seemed 
 to regard the agonies of his daughter, who, throwing herself at his 
 feet, sobbed and wept most bitterly. 
 
 " This must not be," said the King, moved with compassion at 
 this scene of misery. " If you consent. Christian, to leave this 
 country, there is a vessel in the river bound for New England — Go, 
 carry your dark intrigues to other lands." 
 
 " I might dispute the sentence," said Christian, boldly, "and if 
 I submit to it, it is a matter of my own choice.— One half hour had 
 made me even with that proud woman, but fortune hath cast the 
 balance against me. — Rise, Zarah, Fenella no more ! Tell Ihe 
 Lady of Derby, that, if the daughter of Edward Christian, the niece 
 of her murdered victim, served her as a menial, it was but for the 
 purpose of vengeance— miserably, miserably frustrated ! —Thou 
 seesl thy folly now — thou wouldst follow yonder ungrateful strip- 
 ling— thou wouldst forsake all other thoughts to gain his slightest 
 notice 5 and now, thou art a forlorn outcast, ridiculed and insulted 
 by those on whose necks you might have trod, <had you governed 
 yourself wilh more wisdom ! — But come, thou art still my daughter 
 — there are other skies than that which canopies Britain." 
 
 *' Stop. him," said the King \ " we must know by what means 
 this maiden found access to those confined in our prisons." 
 
 "I refer your Majesty to your most Protestant jailor, and to the 
 most Protestant Peers, who, in order to obtain perfect knowledge 
 of the depth of the Popish Plot, have contrived these ingenious 
 apertures for visiting them in their cells by night or day. His 
 Grace of Buckingham can assist your Majesty, if you are inclined 
 to make (he enquiry ^" 
 
 '' Christian," said the Duke, '* thou art the most barefaced vil- 
 lain who ever breathed ! " 
 
 " Of a commoner, I may," answered Christian, and led his 
 daughter out of the presence. 
 
 '' See after him, Selby," said the King ; '* lose not sight of him 
 till the ship sail 5 if he dare return to Britain, it shall be at his 
 peril. Would to God we had as good riddance of others as dan- 
 gerous! And I would also," he added, after a moment's pause, 
 "that all our political intrigues and feverish alarms could termi- 
 nate as harmlessly as now. Here is a plot without a drop of blood 5 
 
 ' It was said that very unfair means were used to compel the prisoners, committed on 
 account of the Popish Plot, to make disclosures, and that several of them were privately 
 put to the torture. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 627 
 
 and all the elemerrts of a romance, without its conclusion. Hero 
 we have a wandering island princess (I pray my Lady of Derby's 
 pardon), a dwarf, a Moorish sorceress, an impenitent rogue, and 
 a repentant man of rank, and yet all ends without either hanging 
 or marriage." 
 
 ''Not altogether without the latter," said the Countess, who 
 had an opportunity, during the evening, of much private conver- 
 sation with Julian Peveril. "There is a cerlain Major Bridge- 
 north, who, since your Majesty relinquishes farther enquiry into 
 these proceedings, which he had otherwise intended to abide, de- 
 signs, as we are informed, to leave England for ever. Now, this 
 Bridgenorth, by dint of the law, hath acquired strong possession 
 over the domains of Peveril, which he is desirous to restore to the 
 ancient owners, with much fair land besides, conditionally, that 
 our young Julian will receive them as the dowery of his only child 
 and heir." 
 
 "By my faith," said the King, "she must be a foul-favoured 
 wench indeed, if Julian requires to be pressed to accept her on 
 such fair conditions." 
 
 "They love each other like lovers of the last age," said the 
 Countess; "but the stout old Knight likes not the roundheaded 
 alliance.'* 
 
 "Our royal recommendation shall put that to rights," said the 
 King; "Sir GeofTrey Peveril has not suffered hardship so often at 
 our command, that he will refuse our recommendation when it 
 comes to make him amends for all his losses." 
 
 It may be supposed the King did not speak without being fully 
 aware of the unlimited ascendency which he possessed over the 
 spirit of .the old Tory ; for, within four weeks afterwards, the bells 
 of Martindale-Moullrassie were ringing for the union of the fa- 
 milies, from whose estates it takes its compound name, and the 
 beacon-light of the Castle blazed high over hill and dale, and 
 summoned all to rejoice who were within twenty miles of its 
 gleam'. 
 
 NOTES TO CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 Note I., p. 525. 
 
 This little piece of superstition was suggested by the following incident. The Author 
 of Waverley happened to be standing by with other gentlemen, while the captain of the 
 Selkirk Yeomanry was purchasing a horse for the use of his trumpeter. The animal 
 offered was a handsome one, and neither the officer, who was an excellent jockey, nor 
 any one present, could see any imperfection in wind or limb. But a person happened to 
 pass, who was asked to give an opinion. This man was called Blind Willie, who drove 
 a small trade in cattle and horses, and what seemed as extraordinary, in watches, not- 
 withstanding his having been born blind. He was accounted to possess a rare judgment 
 in these subjects of traffic. So soon as he had examined the horse in question, he imme- 
 
 ' Kote II., p. 528. History of Colonel Thomas Blood. 
 
528 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK- 
 
 dialely pronounced it to have something of his own complaint, and in plain words, stated 
 it to be blind, or verging upon that imperfection, which was found to be the case on close 
 examination. None present had suspected this fault in the animal ; which is not won- 
 derful, considering that it may frequently exist, without any appearance in the organ 
 affected. Blind Willie, being asked how he made a discovery imperceptible to so many 
 gentlemen who had their eyesight, explained, that after feeling the horse's limbs, he laid 
 one hand on its heart, and drew the other briskly across the animal's eyes, when finding 
 no increase of pulsation, in consequence of the latter motion, he had come to the con- 
 clusion that the horse must be blind. 
 
 Note II., p. 527.— History of Colonel Thomas Blood. 
 
 This person, who was capable of framing and carrying into execution the most des- 
 perate enterprises, was one of those extraordinary characters, who can only arise amid 
 the bloodshed, confusion, destruction of morality, and wide-spreading violence, which 
 take place during civil war. The arrangement of the present volume admitting of a 
 lengthened digression, we cannot, perhaps, enter upon a subject more extraordinary or 
 entertaining, than the history of this notorious desperado, who exhibited all the elements 
 of a most accomplished ruffian. As the account of these adventures is scattered in 
 various and scarce publications, it will probably be a service to the reader to bring the 
 most remarkable of them under his eye, in a simultaneous point of view. 
 
 Blood's father is reported to have been a blacksmith ; but this was only a disparaging 
 mode of describing a person who had a concern in iron works, and had thus acquired 
 independence. He entered early in life into the Civil War, served as a lieutenant in the 
 Parliament forces, and was put by Henry Cromwell, Lord Deputy of Ireland, into the 
 commission of the peace, when he was scarcely two-and- twenty. This outset in life 
 decided his political party for ever; and however unfit the principles of such a man 
 rendered him for the society of those who professed a rigidity of religion and morals, so 
 useful was Blood's rapidity of invention, and so well was he known, that he wias held 
 capable of framing with sagacity, and conducting with skill, the most desperate under- 
 takings, and in a turbulent time, was allowed to associate with the non-jurors, who 
 affected a peculiar austerity of conduct and sentiments. In 1663, the Act of Settlement 
 in Ireland, and the proceedings thereupon, affected Blood deeply in his fortune, and 
 from that moment he appears to have nourished the most inveterate hatred to the Duke 
 of Ormond, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, whom he considered as the author of the 
 measures under which he suffered. There were at this time many malecontcnts of the 
 same party with himself, so that Lieutenant Blood, as the most daring among them, was 
 able to put himself at the head of a conspiracy which bad for its purpose the exciting a 
 general insurrection, and, as a preliminary step, the surprising of the castle of Dublin. 
 The means proposed for the last purpose, which was to be the prelude to the rising, 
 augured the desperation of the person by whom it was contrived, and yet might probably 
 have succeeded, from its very boldness. A declaration was drawn up by the hand of 
 Blood himself, calling upon all persons to take arms for the liberty of the subject, and 
 the restoration of the Solemn League and Covenant. For the surprise of the castle, it 
 was provided, that several persons with petitions in their hands, were to wait within the 
 walls, as if they staid to present them to the Lord Lieutenant, while about fourscore of 
 the old daring disbanded soldiers were to remain on the outside, dressed like carpenters, 
 smiths, shoemakers, and other ordinary mechanics. As soon as the Lord Lieutenant 
 went in, a baker was to pass by the main guard with a laifge basket of white bread on his 
 back. By making a false step, he was to throw down his burden, which might create a 
 scramble among the soldiers, and offer the fourscore men before mentioned an opportu- 
 nity of disarming thera, while the others with petitions in their hands secured all within ; 
 and being once master of the castle and the Duke of Ormond's person, they were to 
 publish their declaration. But some of the principal conspirators were apprehended about 
 twelve hours before the time appointed for the execution of the design, in which no less 
 than seven members of the House of Commons (for the Parliament of Ireland was then 
 sitting) were concerned. Leckie, a minister, the brother-in-law of Blood, was with several 
 others tried, condemned, and executed. Blood effected his escape, but was still so much 
 the object of public apprehension, that a rumour having arisen during Leckie's execu- 
 tion, that Major Blood was at hand with a party to rescue the prisoner, every one of the 
 guards, and the executioner himself, shifted for themselves, leaving Leckie, with the 
 halter about his neck, standing alone under the gallows; but as no rescue appeared, the 
 sherifPs officers returned to their duty, and the criminal was executed. Meantime Blood 
 retired among the mountains of Ireland, where he herded alternately with fanatics and 
 Papists, provided only they were discontented with the government. There were few 
 persons better acquainted with the intrigues of the time than this active partisan, who 
 was alternately Quaker, Anabaptist, or Catholic, but always a rebel, and revolutionist ; 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 529 
 
 he shifted from place to place, and from kingdom to kingdom ; became known to the 
 Admiral de Ruyter, and was the soul of every desperate plot. 
 
 In particular, about 1665, Mr. Blood was one of a revolutionary committee, or secret 
 council, which continued its sittings, notwithstanding that government knew of its 
 meetings. For their security, they had about thirty stout fellows posted around the place 
 where they met, in the nature of a corps de garde. It fell out, that two of the members of 
 the council, to save themselves, and perhaps for the sake of a reward, betrayed all their 
 transactions to the ministry, which Mr. Blood soon suspected, and in a short lime got to 
 the bottom of the whole affair. lie appointed these two persons to meet him at a tavern 
 in the city, where he had his guard ready, who secured them without any noise, and 
 carried them to a private place provided for the purpose, where he called a kind of court- 
 martial, before whom they were tried, found guilty, and sentenced to be shot two days 
 after in the same place. When the time appointed came, they were brought out, and all 
 the necessary preparations made for putting the sentence in execution; and the poor 
 men, seeing no hopes of escape, disposed themselves to suffer as well as they could. At 
 this critical juncture, Mr. Blood was graciously pleased to grand them his pardon, and at 
 the same lime advised them to go to their new master, tell him all that had happened, 
 and request him, in the name of their old confederates, to be as favourable to such of 
 them as should at any time stand in need of his mercy. Whether these unfortunate people 
 carried Mr. Blood's message to the king, does not any where appear. It is however cer- 
 tain, that not long after the whole conspiracy was discovered ; in consequence of which, 
 on the 26th of April, 1666, Col. John Ralhbone, and some other ofTicers of the late dis- 
 banded army, were tried and convicted at the Old Bailey for a plot to surprise the Tower, 
 and to kill General Monk. 
 
 After his concern with this desperate conclave, who were chiefly fanatics and Fifth- 
 Monarchy men. Blood exchanged the scene for Scotland, where he mingled among the 
 Cameronians, and must have been a most acceptable associate to John Balfour of Burley, 
 or any other who joined the insurgents more out of spleen or desire of plunder, than 
 from religious motives. The writers of the sect seem to have thought his name a dis- 
 credit, or perhaps did not know it; nevertheless it is affirmed in a pamphlet written by a 
 person who seems to have been well acquainted with the incidents of his life, that he 
 shared the dangers of the defeat at Pentland Hills, 27th November 1666, in which the 
 Cameronians were totally routed. After the engagement, he found his way again to Ire- 
 land, but was hunted out of Ulster by Lord Dungannon, who pursued him very closely. 
 On his return to England, he made himself again notorious by an exploit, of which the 
 verv singular particulars are contained in the pamphlet already mentioned '. The narra- 
 tive runs as follows :— " Among the persons apprehended for the late fanatic conspiracy, 
 was one Captain Mason, a person for whom Mr. Blood had a particular affection and 
 friendship. This person was to be removed from London to one of the northern counties, 
 in order to bis trial at the assizes ; and to that intent was sent down with eight of the 
 Duke's troop to guard him, being reckoned to be a person bold and courageous. Mr. Blood 
 having notice of this journey, resolves by the way to rescue his friend. The prisoner and 
 his guard went away in the morning, and Mr. Blood having made choice of three more 
 of his acquaintance, set forward the same day at night, without boots, upon small horses, 
 and their pistols in their trowsers, to prevent suspicion. But opportunities are not so 
 jeasily had, neither were all places convenient, so that the convoy and their prisoner were 
 gone a good way beyond Newark, before Mr. Blood and his friends had any scent of their 
 prisoner. At one place, they set a sentinel to watch his coming by ; but whether it was 
 out of fear, or that the person was tired with a tedious expectation, the sentinel brought 
 them no tidings either of the prisoner or his guard, insomuch that Mr. Blood and his 
 companions began to think their friend so far before them upon the road, that it would 
 he in vain to follow him. Yet not willing to give over an enterprise so generously under- 
 taken, upon Mr. Blood's encouragement, they rode on, though despairing of success, till 
 finding it grow towards evening, and meeting with a convenient inn upon the road, in a 
 small village not far from Doncaster, they resolved to lie there all night, and return 
 for London the next morning. In that inn they had not sat long in n room next the street, 
 condoling among themselves the ill success of such a tedious journey, and the misfortune 
 of their friend, before the convoy came thundering up to the door of the said inn with 
 their prisoner, Captain Mason having made choice of that inn, as being best known to 
 him, to give his guardians the refreshment of a dozen of drink. There Mr. Blood, unseen, 
 had a full view of his friend, and of the persons he had to deal with. He had bespoke a 
 small supper, which was at the fire, so that he had but very little time for consultation, 
 finding that Captain Mason's party did not intend to alight. On this account he only gave 
 general directions to his associates to follow his example in whatever they saw him do, 
 
 ■* Pemayks on the Life of the famed 7>Ir. Blood. I-onilon, (680. Folio. 
 
|>30 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 In haste, therefore, they called for Iheir horses, and threw down their money for their 
 reckoning, telling the woman of the house, that since they had met with such good com- 
 pany, they were resolved to go forward. Captain Mason went off first upon a sorry beast, 
 and with him the commander of the party, and four more ; the rest staid behind to make 
 an end of their liquor. Then away marched one more single, and in a very small time 
 after the last two. By this time, Mr. Blood and one of his friends being horsed, followed 
 - the two that were hindmost, and soon overtook them. These four rode some little time 
 together, Mr. Blood on the right hand of the two soldiers, and his friend on the left. But 
 upon a sudden, Mr. Blood laid hold of the reins of the horse next him, while his friend, in 
 observation to his directions, did the same on the other hand, and having presently by 
 surprise dismounted the soldiers, pulled off their bridles, and sent their horses to pick 
 their grass where they pleased. These two being thus made sure of, Mr. Blood pursues 
 his game, intending to have reached the single trooper; but he being got to the rest of 
 his fellows, now reduced to six, and a barber of York, that travelled in their company, 
 Mr. Blood made up, heads the whole party, and stops them ; of which some of the fore- 
 most, looking upon him to be either drunk or mad, thought the rebuke of a switch to be 
 a sufficient chastisement of such a rash presumption, which they exercised with more 
 contempt than fury, till, by the rudeness of his compliments in return, he gave them to 
 understand he was not in jest, but in very good earnest. He was soon seconded by his 
 friend that was with him in his first exploit; but there had been several rough blows 
 dealt between the unequal number of six to two, before Mr. Blood's two other friends 
 came up to their assistance; nay, I may safely say seven to two ; for the barber of York, 
 whether out of his natural propensity to the sport, or that his pot-valianluess had made 
 him so generous as to help his fellow-travellers, would needs show his valour at the 
 beginning of the fray ; but better had he been at the latter end of a feast ; for though he 
 showed his prudence to take the stronger side, as he guessed by the number, yet because 
 he would take no warning, which was often given him, not to put himself to the hazard 
 of losing a guitar-finger by meddling in a business that nothing concerned him, he lost 
 his life, as they were forced to dispatch him, in the first place, for giving them a needless 
 trouble. The barber, being become an useless instrument, and the other of Mr. Blood's 
 friends being come up, the skirmish began to be very smart, the four assailants having 
 singled out their champions as fairly and equally as they could. All this while, Captain 
 Mason, being rode before upon his thirty shilling steed, wondering his guard came not 
 with him, looked back, and" observing a combustion, and that they were altogether by 
 the ears, knew not what to think. He conjectured it at first to have been some intrigue 
 upon him, as if the troopers had a design to tempt him to an escape, which might after- 
 wards prove more to his prejudice ; just like cats, that, with regardless scorn, seem to give 
 the distressed mouse all the liberty in the world to get away out of their paws, but soon 
 recover their prey again at one jump. Thereupon, unwilling to undergo the hazard of 
 such a trial, he comes back, at which lime Mr. Blood cried out to him, Horse, horse, 
 quickly ! an alarm so amazing at first, that he could not believe it to be his friend's voice 
 •when he heard it; but as the thoughts of military men are soon summoned together, and 
 never hold Spanish councils, the Captain presently settled his resolution, mounts the 
 next horse that wanted a rider, and puts it in for a share of his own self-preservation. In 
 this bloody conflict, Mr. Blood was three times unhorsed, occasioned by his forgelfulness, 
 as having omitted to new girt his saddle, which the ostler had unloosed upon the wadding 
 at his first coming into the inn. Being then so often dismounted, and not knowing the 
 reason, which the occasion would not give him leave to consider, he resolved to fight it 
 'out on foot; of which two of the soldiers taking the advantage, singled him out, and drove 
 him into a court-yard, where he made a stand with a full body, his sword in one hand, 
 and his pistol in the other. One of the soldiers taking that advantage of his open body, 
 shot him near the shoulder-blade of his pistol arm, at which time he had four other 
 bullets in his body, that he had received before ; which the soldier observing, flung his 
 discharged pistol at him with that good aim and violence, that he hit him a stunning blow 
 just under the forehead, upon the upper part of the nose between the eyes, which for the 
 present so amazed him, that he gave himself over for a dead man ; yet resolving to give 
 one sparring blow before he expired, such is the strange provocation and success of 
 despair, with one vij-orous stroke of his sword, he brought his adversary with a ven- 
 geance from his horse, and laid him in a far worse condition than himself at his horse's 
 feet. At that time, full of anger and revenge, he was just going to make an end of his 
 conquest, by giving him the fatal stab, but that in the very nick of lime. Captain Mason, 
 having, by the help of his friends, done his business where they had fought, by the death 
 of some, and the disabling of others that opposed them, came in, and bid him hold and 
 spare the life of one that had been the civilest person to him upon the road, a fortunate 
 piece of kindness in the one, and of gratitude in the olhcr; which Mr. Blood easily con- 
 descending to, by the joint assistance of the Captain, the olhcr soldier was soon mastered 
 and the victory, after a sharp fight, that lasted above two hours, was at length completed. 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 531 
 
 You may be sure the fight was well maintained on both sides, while two of the soldiers, 
 besides the barber, were slain upon the place, three unhorsed, and the rest wounded. And 
 it was observable, that though the encounter happened in a village, where a great number 
 of people were spectators of the combat, yet none would adventure the rescue of either 
 party, as not knowing which was in the wrong, or which in the right, and were therefore 
 wary of being arbitrators in such a desperate contest, where they saw the reward of assis- 
 tance to be nothing but present death. After the combat was over, Mr. Blood and bis 
 friends divided themselves, and parted several ways." 
 
 Before he had engaged in this adventure, Blood had placed his wife and son in an apo- 
 thecary's shop at Rumford, under the name of Weston. He himself afterwards affected 
 to practise as a physician under that of AylifFe, under which guise he remained concealed 
 until his wounds wore cured, and the hue and cry against him and his accomplices was 
 somewhat abated. 
 
 In the meantime this extraordinary man, whose spirits toiled in framing the most daring 
 enterprises, had devised a plot, which, as it respected the person at whom it was aimed, 
 was of a much more ambitious character than that for the delivery of Mason It had for 
 Its object the seizure of the person of the Duke of Ormond, his ancient enemy, in the 
 streets of London. In this some have thought he only meant to gratify his resentment, 
 while others suppose that he might hope to extort some important advantages by de- 
 taining bis Grace in his bands as a prisoner. The Duke's historian. Carle, gives the fol- 
 lowing account of this extraordinary enterprise .— " The^Prince of Orange came this 
 year (I670) into England, and being invited on Dec 6, to an* entertainment in the city of 
 London, his Graceattended him thither. As he was returning homewards in a dark night, 
 and going up St.-James's-street, at the end of which, facing the palace, stood Clarendon 
 House, where he then lived, he was attacked by Blood and tive of his accomplices. The 
 Duke always used to go attended with six footmen ; but as they were too heavy a load to 
 ride upon a coach, he always had iron spikes behind it to keep them from getting up ; and 
 continued this practice to his dying day, even after this allempl of assassination. These 
 six footmen used to walk on both sides of the street over au'ainst the coach ; but by some 
 contrivance or other, they were all stopped and out of the way, when the Duke was taken 
 out of his coach by Blood and his son, and mounted on horseback behind one of the 
 horsemen in his company. The coachman drove on to Clarendon House, and told the 
 porter that the Duke had been seized by two men, who had carried him down Pickadilly. 
 The porter immediately ran that way, and Mr. James Clarke chancing to be at that time 
 in the court of the house, followed with all possible haste, having first alarmed the 
 family, and ordered the servants to come after him as fast as they could. Blood, it seems, 
 either to gratify the humour of his patron, who had set him upon this work, or to glut his 
 own revenge by putting his Grace to the same ignominious death, which his accomplices 
 In the treasonable design upon Dublin Castle had sufTered, had taken a strong fancy into 
 his head to hang the Duke at Tyburn. Nothing could have saved his Grace's life, but that 
 extravagant imagination and passion of the villain, who, leaving the Duke mounted and 
 buckled to one of his comrades, rode on before, and (as is said) actually tied a rope to 
 the gallows, and then rode back to see what was become of his accomplices, whom be 
 met riding off in a great hurry. The horseman to whom the Duke was tied, was a person 
 of great strength, but being embarrassed by his Grace's struggling, could not advance as 
 fast as he desired He was, however, got a good way beyond Berkeley (now Devonshire) 
 House, towards Knightsbridge, when the Duke having got his foot under the man's, un- 
 horsed him, and they both fell down together in the mud, where they were struggling, 
 when the porter and Mr. Clarke came up. The villain then disengaged himself, and seeing 
 the neighbourhood alarmed, and numbers of people running towards them, got on horse- 
 back, and having with one of his comrades, fired their pistols at the Duke (but missed 
 him, as taking their aim in the dark, and in a hurry) rode off as fast as they could to save 
 themselves. The Duke (now sixty years of age) was quite spent with struggling, so that 
 when Mr. Clarke and the porter came up, they knew him rather by feeling bis star, than 
 by any sound of voice he could utter; and they were forced (o carry him home, and lay 
 him on a bed to recover his,spirits. He received some wounds and bruises in the struggle, 
 which confined him within' doors for some days. The King, when he heard of this in- 
 tended assassination of the Duke of Ormond, expressed a great resentment on that occa- 
 sion, and issued out a proclamation for the discovery and apprehension of the miscreants 
 concerned in the attempt." 
 
 Blood, however, lay concealed, and, with his usual success, escaped apprehension. 
 While thus lurking, he entertained and digested an exploit, evincing the same atrocity 
 which had characterised the undertakings he had formerly been engaged in ; there was 
 also to be traced in his new device something of that peculiar disposition which mclmed 
 him to be desirous of adding to the murder of the Duke of Ormond, the singular mfamy 
 of putting him to death at Tyburn. With something of the same spirit he now resolved 
 to show his contempt of monarchy, and all its symboU, by steaUng the crown, sceplr*. 
 
/i3*i PEVERIL OF THE Pl^AK. 
 
 and other articles of the regalia out of the office in which they were deposited, and en- 
 riching himself and his needy associates with the produce of the spoils. This feat, by 
 which Blood is now chiefly remembered, is, like all his transactions, marked with a daring 
 strain of courage and duplicity, and like most of his undertakings, was very likely to have 
 proved successful. John Bayley, Esq. in his History and Antiquities of the Tower of 
 London, gives the followin'^ distinct account of this curious exploit. At this period. Sir 
 Gilbert Talbot was Keeper, as it was called, of the Jewel House. 
 
 " It was soon after the appointment of Sir Gilbert Talbot, that theRegalia in the Tower 
 first became objects of public inspection, which King Charles allowed in consequence of 
 the reduction in the emoluments of the master's office. The profits which arose from 
 showing the jewels to strangers, Sir Gilbert assigned in lieu of a salary, to the person 
 whom he had appointed to the care of them. This was an old confidential servant of his 
 fa'.her's one Talbot Edwards, whose name is handed down to posterity as keeper of the 
 regalia, when the notorious attempt to steal the crown was made in the year 1673 ; the 
 following account of which is chiefly derived from a relation which Mr, Edwards himself 
 made of the transaction. 
 
 " About three weeks before this audacious villain Blood made his attempt upon the 
 crown, he came to the Tower in the habit of a parson, with a long cloak, cassock, and 
 canonical girdle, accompanied by a woman, whom he called his wife. They desired to 
 see the regalia, and, just as their wishes had been gratified, the lady feigned sudden indis- 
 position ; this called for the kind offices of Mrs. Edwards, the keeper's wife, who having 
 courteously invited her into their house to repose herself, she soon recovered, and, on 
 their departure, professed themselves thankful for this civility. A few days after, Blood 
 came again, bringing a present to Mrs. Edwards, of four pairs of white gloves from his 
 pretended wife; and having thus begun the acquaintance, they made frequent visits to 
 improve it. After a short respite of their compliments, the disguised ruffian returned 
 again ; and in conversation with Mrs. Edwards, said that his wife could discourse oi 
 nothing but the kindness of those good people in the Tower— that she had long studied, 
 and at length bethought herself of a handsome way of requital. You have, quoth he, a 
 pretty young gentlewoman for your daughter, and I have a young nephew, who has two or 
 three hundred a-year in land, and is at my disposal. If your daughter be free, and yoa 
 approve it, I'll bring him here to see her, and we will endeavour to make it a match. This 
 was easily assented to by old Mr. Edwards, who invited the parson to dine with him oft 
 that day ; he readily accepted the invitation ; and taking upon him to say grace, performed 
 ft with great seeming devotion, and casting up his eyes, conclud.ed it with a prayer for 
 the King, Queen, and royal family. After dinner, he went up to see the rooms, and 
 observing a handsome case of pistols hang there, expressed a great desire to buy them, 
 to present to a young lord, who was his neighbour ; a pretence by which he thought of 
 disarming the house against the period intended for the execution of his design. At his 
 departure, which was a canonical benediction of the good company, he appointed a day 
 and hour to bring his young nephew to see his mistress, which was the very day that he 
 made his daring attempt. The good old gentleman had got up ready to receive his guest, 
 and the daughter was in her best dress to entertain her expected lover; when behold. 
 Parson Blood, with three more, came to the jewel-house, all armed with rapier-blades in 
 their canes, and every one a dagger, and a brace of pocket-pistols. Two of his compa- 
 nions entered in with him, on pretence of seeing the crown, and the third staid at the 
 door, as if to look after the young lady, a jewel of a more charming description, but in 
 reality as a watch. The daughter, who thought it not modest to come down till she was 
 called, sent the maid to take a view of the company, and bring a description of her 
 gallant; and the servant, conceiving that he was the intended bridegroom who staid at the 
 door, being the youngest of the party, returned to soothe the anxiety of her young mis- 
 tress with the idea she had formed of his person. Blood told Mr. Edwards that they would 
 not go up stairs till his wife came, and desired him to show his friends the crown to pass 
 the time till then ; and they had no sooner entered the room, and the door, as usual, shut, 
 than a cloak was thrown over the old man's head, and a gag put in his mouth. Thus 
 secured, they told him that their resolution was to have the crown, globe, and sceptre; 
 and, if he would quietly submit to it, they would spare his life ; otherwise he was to expect 
 no mercy. He thereupon endeavoured to make all the noise he possibly could, to be 
 heard above ; they then knocked him down with a wooden mallet, and told him, that, if yet 
 he would lie quietly, they would spare his life ; but if not, upon his next attempt to dis- 
 cover them, they would kill him. Mr. Edwards, however, according to his own account, 
 was not intimidated by this ihreat, but strained himself to make the greater noise, and 
 in consequence, received several more blows on the head with the mallet, and was stab- 
 bed in the belly; this again brought the poor old man to the ground, where he lay for 
 some lime in so senseless a state, that one of the villains pronounced him dead. Edwards 
 had come a little to himself, and hearing this, lay quietly, conceiving it best to be thought 
 so. The booty was now to be disposed of, and one of ihcm, named Parrot, secreted the 
 
PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 533 
 
 t)rb. Blood held the crown under his cloak, and iho third was about to file lite soeptre in 
 two, in order that it might be placed in a bag, brought for that purpose ; but, fortunately, 
 «he son of Mr. Edwards, who had been in Flanders with Sir John Talbot, and on his 
 landing in England, had obtained leave to come away post to visit bis father, happened to 
 arrive whilst this scene was acting ; and on coming to the door, the person that stood 
 sentinel, asked with whom he would speak; to which he answered, that he belonged to 
 the house; and, perceiving the person to be a stranger, told him that if he had any busi- 
 ness with his father that he would acquaint him with it, and so hastened up stairs to 
 salute his friends. This unexpected accident spread confusion amongst the parly, and 
 they instantly decamped with the crown and orb, leaving the sceptre yet unUled. The 
 aged keeper now raised himself upon his legs, forced the gag from this mouth, and cried, 
 Treason! murder! which being beard by his daughter, who was, perhaps, anxiously 
 expecting far other sounds, ran out and reiterated the cry. The alarm now became ge- 
 neral, and young Edwards and his brother-in-law. Captain Beckman, ran after the con- 
 spirators, whom a warder put himself in a position to stop, but Blood discharged a pistol 
 at him, and he fell, although unhurt, and the thieves proceeded safely to the next post, 
 where one Sill, who had been a soldier under Cromwell, stood sentinel ; but he offered no 
 opposition, and they accordinly passed ihe drawbridge. Horses were wafting for them 
 at St.-Catherines gate ; and as they ran that way along the Tower wharf, they themselves 
 cried out. Stop the rogues! by which they passed on unsuspected, till Captain Beckman 
 overtook them. At his head Blood fired another pistol, but missed him, and was seized. 
 Under the cloak of this daring villain was found the crown, and, although he saw himself 
 a prisoner, he had yet the impudence to struggle for his prey ; and when it was finally 
 wrested from him, said. It was a gallant attempt, however unsuccessful ; it was for a 
 crown ! Parrot, who had formerly served under General Harrison, was also taken ; but 
 Hum, Blood's son-in-law, reached his horse and rode off, as did two other of the thieves ; 
 but he was soon afterwards stopped, and likewise committed to custody. In this struggle 
 .ind confusion, the great pearl, a large diamond, and several smaller stones, were lost 
 from the crown ; but the two former, and some of the latter, were afterwards found and 
 restored ; and the Ballas ruby, broken off the sceptre, being found in Parrot's pocket, 
 nothing considerable was eventually missing. 
 
 " As soon as the prisoners were secured, young Edwards hastened to Sir GilbertTalbot, 
 who was then master and treasurer of the Jewel House, and gave him an account of (he 
 transaction. Sir Gilbert instantly went to the King, and acquainted his majesty with it ; 
 and his majesty commanded him to proceed forthwith to the Tower, to see how matters 
 stood; to take the examination of Blood and the others ; and to return and report it to 
 him. Sir Gilbert accordingly went; but the King in the meantime was persuaded by some 
 about him, to hear the examination himself, and the prisoners were in consequence sent 
 for to Whitehall .- a circumstance which is supposed to have saved these daring wretches 
 from the gallows." 
 
 On his examination under such an atrocious charge. Blood audaciously replied, " that 
 he would never betray an associate, or defend himself at the expense of uttering a false- 
 hood." He even averred, perhaps, more than was true against himself, when he con- 
 fessed that he had lain concealed among the reeds for the purpose of killing the King 
 with a carabine, while Charles was bathing; but he pretended that on this occasion his 
 purpose was disconcerted by a secret awe, — appearing to verify the allegation in Shaks- 
 peare, " There's such divinity doth hedge a king that treason can but peep to what it 
 would, acts little of its will." To this slory, true or false, Blood added a declaration that 
 he was at the head of a numerous following, disbanded soldiers and others, who, from 
 motives of religion, were determined to take the life of the King, as the only obstacle to 
 their obtaining freedom of w orship and liberty of conscience. These men, he said, would 
 be determined, by his execution, to persist in the resolution of putting Charles to death ; 
 whereas, he averred that, by sparing his life, the King might disarm a hundred poniards 
 directed against his own. This view of the case made a strong impression on Charles, 
 whose selfishness was uncommonly acute .- yet he felt the impropriety of pardoning the 
 attempt upon the life of the Duke of Ormfl^, and condescended to ask that faithful 
 servant's permission, before he would exert his authority to spare the assassin. Ormond 
 answered, that if the King chose to pardon the attempt to steal his crown, he himself 
 might easily consent that the attempt upon his own life, as a crime of much less impor- 
 tance, -Ibould also be forgiven. Charles, accordingly, not only gave Blood a pardon, but 
 endowed him with a pension of 500/. a-year; which led many persons to infer, not only 
 that the King wished to preserve himself from the future attempts of this desperate man, 
 but that he had it also in view to secure the services of so determined a ruffian, in case 
 he should have an opportunity of employing him in his own line of business. There is a 
 striking contrast between the fate of Blood, pensioned and rewarded for ibis audacious 
 attempt, and that of the faithful Edwards, who may be safely said to have sacrificed his 
 life in defence of the property intrusted to him! ho rginunerotion for his fidelity and 
 
534 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 his sufferings, Edwards only obtained a grant of 200/. from the Exchequer, with iool, to 
 his son ; but so little pains were taken about the regular discharge of these donatives, 
 that the parties entitled to them were glad to sell them for half the sum. After this won- 
 derful escape from justice, Blood seems to have affected the airs of a person in favour, 
 and was known to solicit the suits of many of the old republican party, for whom he is 
 said to have gained considerable indulgences, when the old cavaliers, who had ruined 
 themselves in the cause of Charles the first, could obtain neither countenance nor resti- 
 tution. During the ministry called the cabal, be was high in favour with the Duke of 
 Buckingham; till upon their declension his favour began also to fail, and we find him 
 again engaged in opposition to the Court. Blood was not likely to lie idle amid the busy 
 intrigues and factions which succeeded the celebrated discovery of Gates. He appears to 
 have passed again into violent opposition to the Court, but bis steps were no longer so 
 sounding as to be heard ahove his contemporaries. North hints at his being involved in a 
 plot against his former friend and patron theDuke of Buckingham. The passage is quoted 
 at length in a note in this volume, p. 320. 
 
 The Plot, it appears, consisted in an attempt to throw some scandalous imputation 
 upon the Duke of Buckingham, for a conspiracy to effect which, Edward Christian, 
 Arthur O'Brien, and Thomas Blood, were indicted in the King's Bench, and found guilty, 
 25lh June, 1680. The damages sued for were l?id as high as ten thousand pounds, for 
 which Colonel Blood found bail. But he appears to have been severely affected in health, 
 as, 24th August, 1680, he departed this life in a species of lethargy. It is remarkable 
 enough that the story of his death and funeral was generally regarded as fabricated, pre- 
 parative to some exploit of his own; nay, so general was this report, that the coroner 
 caused his body to be raised, and a jury to sit upon it, for the purpose of ensuring that 
 the celebrated Blood had at length undergone the common fate of mankind. There was 
 found unexpected difficulty in proving that the miserable corpse before the jury was 
 that of the celebrated conspirator. It was at length recognised by some of his acquaint- 
 ances, who swore to the preternatural size of the thumb, so that the coroner, convinced 
 of the identify, remanded this once active, and now quiet person, to his final rest in 
 Tothill-fields. 
 
 Such were the adventures of an individual, whose real exploits, whether the motive, the 
 danger, or the character of the enterprises be considered, equal, or rather surpass, those 
 fictions of violence and peril which we love to peruse in romance. They<:annot, there- 
 fore be deemed foreign to a work dedicated, like the present, to the preservation of ex- 
 traordinary occurrences, whether real or fictitious. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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