a ... Wm^ ;i#:^:^9psy ^:;^ 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; BROCKHAUS AND AVEWARItJS, RUE RICHELIEU ; LEOPOLD MICHELSEIf, LEIPZIG ; 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 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 ' 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