SANTA BARSAiA STATE 
 
 .lL«« 
 
 ^ ^>jRaRY
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, I913 
 BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 il!Tf^ 
 
 TV/ r;- 
 
 ' ^ "lESELURi 
 
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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 ' If my readers should at any time remark that I am 
 particularly dull, they may be assured there is a design 
 under it.' — British Essayist.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 embowelling which 
 was promised him after the field of Shrewsbury, by his 
 patron the Prince of Wales. * Embowel'd? If you em- 
 bowel me to-day, you may powder and eat me to- 
 morrow!' 
 
 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 dis- 
 agreeable; 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 fa- 
 vour, perhaps for no better reason than that they had 
 been in the habit of giving him alms, as a part of the busi- 
 ness of their daily promenade. The general fact is unde- 
 niable: all men grow old, all men must wear out; but 
 men of ordinary wisdom, however aware of the general 
 
 ix
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 care- 
 lessness or bad luck, what others may consider as symp- 
 toms of mortal decay. I had no choice save that of ab- 
 solutely laying aside the pen, the use of which at my time 
 of life was become 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 with- 
 out waiting for a repetition. 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 present work. It was now several years 
 since my immediate younger brother, Thomas Scott, al- 
 ready 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 re- 
 member what ; but he never came to any decision on that 
 head, and grew tired of the task of transcription. The 
 papers, I suppose, were lost in the course of a military 
 man's life. The tenor of them, that is, of the most re- 
 markable, remained engraved on the memory of the 
 Author. 
 
 The interesting and romantic story of William Chris-
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 tian especially struck my fancy. I found the same indi- 
 vidual, 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 
 some feudal rights claimed by the Earl of Derby as king 
 of the island. When the earl had suffered death at Bol- 
 ton-le-Moors, Captain Christian placed himself at the 
 head of the Roundheads, if they might be so called, and 
 found the means of holding communication with a fleet 
 sent by the Parliament. The island was surrendered to 
 the Parliament 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 Dhone, or Fairhaired 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 of 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, how- 
 ever, dwelt little either on the death of William Chris- 
 tian or on the manner in which Charles II viewed that 
 stretch of feudal power, and the heavy fine which he 
 
 xi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 imposed upon the Derby estates for that extent of 
 jurisdiction of which the countess had been guilty. Far 
 less have I 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 gentleman 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 neces- 
 sary 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, consid- 
 ering 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 com- 
 plains, that Edward Christian, described in the romance 
 as the brother of the gentleman executed in consequence 
 of the countess's arbitrary act of authority, is pourtrayed 
 as a wretch of unbounded depravity, having only in- 
 genuity and courage to rescue him from abhorrence, as 
 well as hatred. Any personal allusion was entirely un- 
 designed on the part of the Author. The Edward Chris- 
 tian of the tale is a mere creature of the imagination. 
 Commentators have naturally enough identified 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 
 ' See Appendices. 
 xii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 to know anything; and as I was not aware that such a 
 person had existed, I could hardly be said to have tra- 
 duced 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 anything bad. The fact is, that upon 
 the 5th June 1680, Thomas Blood, the famous crown- 
 stealer, Edward Christian, Arthur O'Brien, and others, 
 were found guilty of being concerned in a 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 1650; 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 illustrated 
 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 ac- 
 cording 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 rehgion of the Countess of Derby, during the Popish 
 Plot, appeared to fall. If I have over-estimated a ro- 
 mancer's privileges and immunities, I am afraid this is not 
 the only, nor most important, case in which I have done 
 
 xiii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 Wil- 
 helm 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 different from my great prototype ; 
 nor can I be accused of borrowing anything, save the 
 general idea, from an author, the honour of his own 
 country and an example to the authors of other king- 
 doms, to whom all must be proud to own an obligation. 
 
 Family tradition supplied me with two circumstances, 
 which are somewhat analogous to that in question. 
 The first is an account of a lawsuit, taken from a Scot- 
 tish report of adjudged cases, quoted in note to Chapter 
 XX. The other — of which the editor has no reason to 
 doubt, having often heard it from those who were wit- 
 nesses 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 wan- 
 derer came to the doorof Mr. Robert Scott, grandfather of 
 the present author, an opulent farmer in 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 covmtry was covered with 
 snow, and the departure of the wanderer was rendered 
 impossible. She remained for many days, her mainten- 
 ance adding little to the expense of a considerable house- 
 hold ; and by the time that the weather grew milder, she 
 
 xiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 had learned to hold intercourse by signs with the house- 
 hold 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 excellence lay in attending to the feeding and bring- 
 ing 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 Lizzie, 
 whose infirmity was supposed to render her incapable of 
 profiting by divine service, and who therefore stayed at 
 home to take 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 sur- 
 prise forgot her part, and exclaimed, in loud Scotch and 
 with distinct articulation, *Ah, you little deevil's limb!' 
 
 XV
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 miraculous 
 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 con- 
 dition, would communicate with them only by signs, and 
 in that manner denied positively what the boy aflirmed. 
 
 From this time confidence was broken betwixt the 
 other inmates of the family and their dumb, or rather 
 silent, guest. Traps were laid for the supposed impostor, 
 all of which she skilfully eluded ; firearms were often sud- 
 denly 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 morn- 
 ing 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 informers 
 were no way anxious in inquiring, nor am I able to 
 authenticate the fact. The shepherd-boy lived to be a 
 man, and always averred that she had spoken dis- 
 tinctly 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 was 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, ist July 183 1.
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 FROM 
 
 THE REV. DR. DRYASDUST OF YORK 
 
 TO 
 
 CAPTAIN CLUTTERBUCK 
 
 Residing at Fairy Lodge, near Kennaquhair, N. B. 
 
 Very worthy and dear Sir, 
 
 To your last letter I might have answered, with 
 the classic, Haud equidem invideo, miror magis. For 
 though my converse, from infancy, has been with things 
 of antiquity, yet I love not ghosts or spectres to be com- 
 mentators thereon; and truly your account of the con- 
 versation 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 Hec- 
 tor's phantom on the hero of the jEneid — 
 
 Obstupui, steteruntque 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 
 
 xvii
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 take any undue state on myself, when I observe, that 
 this interview was marked with circumstances in some 
 degree more formally complaisant than those which 
 attended your meeting with him in our worthy pub- 
 lisher's; for yours had the appearance of a fortuitous 
 rencontre, whereas mine was preceded by the com- 
 munication of a large roll of papers, containing a new 
 history, called Peveril oj the Peak. 
 
 I no sooner found that this manuscript consisted of a 
 narrative, running to the length of perhaps three hun- 
 dred and thirty pages in each volume, or thereabouts, 
 than it instantly occurred to me from whom this boon 
 came ; and having set myself to peruse the written sheets, 
 I began to entertain strong expectations that I might, 
 peradventure, next see the Author himself. 
 
 Again, it seems to me a marked circumstance that, 
 whereas an inner apartment of Mr. Constable's shop 
 was thought a place of sufficient solemnity for your 
 audience, our venerable senior was pleased to afford 
 mine in the recesses of my own lodgings, inira parietes, 
 as it were, and without the chance of interruption. I 
 must also remark, that the features, form, and dress of 
 the eidolon, as you well term the apparition of our parent, 
 seemed to me more precisely distinct than was vouch- 
 safed to you on the former occasion. Of this hereafter; 
 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 sordet. I am well satisfied that the honour was 
 bestowed not on my person, but my cloth: that the pre- 
 ference did not elevate Jonas Dryasdust over Clutter- 
 buck, but the doctor of divinity over the captain. Ce. 
 
 xviii
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 dant arma toga — a 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 mediam rem. 
 As you will, it shall be done; 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 become 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 ob- 
 jections which have been particularly urged against our 
 father and patron might not be considered as appl3dng, 
 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 bounds: ahiit, evasit, erupitJ 
 
 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 
 remembered seeing, in the embers of the fire, a repre- 
 sentation of a mitre, with the towers of a cathedral in 
 the background; moreover, I recollect gazing for a 
 certain time on the comely countenance of Dr. White- 
 
 xix
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 rose, my uncle by the mother's side — the same who is 
 mentioned in The Heart of Midlothian — whose portrait, 
 graceful in wig and canonicals, hangs above my mantel- 
 piece. Further, I remember marking the flowers in the 
 frame of carved oak, and casting my eye on the pistols 
 which hang beneath, being the firearms with which, in 
 the eventful year 1746, my uncle meant to have es- 
 poused the cause of Prince Charles Edward; for, in- 
 deed, 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 consider as so highly favourable to philosophy, 
 that I have no doubt some of its most distinguished 
 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 appli- 
 ances used to prevent me from being prematurely and 
 harshly called back to the broad waking-day of a labo- 
 rious world. My custom, in this particular, is so well 
 known, that the very schoolboys cross the alley on tip- 
 toe, betwixt the hours of four and five. My cell is the 
 very dwelling of Morpheus. There is indeed a bawling 
 knave of a broom-man, quern ego — But this 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, doubtless,
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 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 my seat, and heard the step of my ser- 
 vant 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 Edin- 
 burgh by the north mail, desires to speak with your 
 reverence.' 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 nothing 
 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 mod- 
 ern 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 pleas- 
 ant companions in the public coach from which he had 
 just alighted. There was somewhat 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 promis- 
 ing wit or genius ; but he had a notable projection of the 
 nose, similar to that line of the Latin poet — 
 
 Immodicum surgit pro cuspide rostrum. 
 xxi
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 A stout walking-stick stayed his hand; a double Barce- 
 lona protected his neck; his belly was something promi- 
 nent, 'but that's not much'; his breeches were substan- 
 tial thick-set;. and a pair of top-boots, which were slipped 
 down to ease his sturdy calves, did not conceal his com- 
 fortable 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 I gazed on this portly person, 
 that he reahsed, in my imagination, the Stout Gentle- 
 man 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 char- 
 acter — 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 
 
 xxii
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 Oldbuck, as I was led to conjecture, 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 housekeeper, Miss Catharine 
 Whiterose, with the tea-equipage; but he rejected my 
 proposal with disdain worthy of the Laird of Monk- 
 barns. 'No scandal-broth,' he exclaimed — 'no un- 
 idea'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 presen- 
 tation, my visitor displayed dexterity as a trencherman 
 which might have attracted the envy of a hungry hunter 
 after 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 par- 
 ticular 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 tak- 
 ing my place at one of the most select companies of 
 right English spirits which ever girdled in and hewed 
 
 xxiii
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 asunder a mountainous sirloin and a generous plum- 
 pudding.' 
 
 I inquired, but with all deference and modesty, whi- 
 ther he was bound, and to what distinguished society 
 he applied a description so general. I shall proceed, in 
 humble imitation of your example, to give the subse- 
 quent dialogue in a dramatic form, unless when descrip- 
 tion becomes necessary. 
 
 Author of Waverley. 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 Clutterbuck, who wrote 
 to me — ay, here is his letter — that such a report 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 with- 
 draw him from his incognito.' 
 
 ^ The author has pride in recording that he had the honour to be 
 elected a member of this distinguished association, merely as the 
 author of Waverley, without any other designation; and it was an ad- 
 ditional inducement to throw off the masque of an anon>Tnous author, 
 that it gives him a right to occupy the vacant chair at that festive 
 board. 
 
 xxiv
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 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 quiet chimney- 
 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 Hfe's evening 
 grey. 
 
 So saying, our venerable friend took another emphatic 
 touch of the tankard, as if the very expression had sug- 
 gested 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 to collect the respiration which 
 the long draught had interrupted, I could not help 
 echoing it in a note so pathetically compassionate that 
 he fixed his eyes on me with surprise. 'How is this?' 
 said he, somewhat angrily; 'do you, the' creature of my 
 will, grudge me my preferment? Have I dedicated to 
 you and your fellows the best hours of my life for these 
 seven years past; and do you presume to grumble or 
 repine because, in those which are to come, I seek for 
 
 XXV
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 some enjoyment of life in society so congenial to my 
 pursuits? ' I humbled myself before the offended senior, 
 and professed my innocence in all that could possibly 
 give him displeasure. He seemed partly appeased, but 
 still bent on me an eye of suspicion, while he questioned 
 me in the words of old Norton, in the ballad of the 
 Rising in the North Country. 
 
 Author. What wouldst thou have, Francis Norton? 
 
 Thou art my youngest son and heir; 
 Something lies brooding at thy heart — 
 
 Whate 'er it be, to me declare. 
 
 Dryasdust. Craving, then, your paternal forgiveness 
 for my presumption, I only sighed at the possibihty of 
 your venturing yourself amongst a body of critics to 
 whom, in the capacity of skilful antiquaries, the investi- 
 gation of truth is an especial duty, and who may there- 
 fore visit with the more severe censure those aberrations 
 which it is so often your pleasure to make from the path 
 of true history. 
 
 Author. I understand you. You mean to say these 
 learned persons will have but little toleration for a 
 romance or a fictitious narrative founded upon history? 
 
 Dryasdust. Why, sir, I do rather apprehend that their 
 respect for the foundation will be such that they may be 
 apt to quarrel with the inconsistent nature of the super- 
 structure; just as every classical traveller pours forth 
 expressions of sorrow and indignation when, in travel- 
 ling through Greece, he chances to see a Turkish kiosk 
 rising on the ruins of an ancient temple. 
 
 Author. But since we cannot rebuild the temple, a 
 kiosk may be a pretty thing, may it not? Not quite 
 correct in architecture, strictly and classically criticised; 
 
 xxvi
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 but presenting something uncommon to the eye, and 
 something fantastic to the imagination, on which the 
 spectator gazes with pleasure of the same description 
 which arises from the perusal of an Eastern tale. 
 
 Dryasdust. I am unable to dispute with you in meta- 
 phor, sir; but I must say, in discharge of my conscience, 
 that you stand much censured for adulterating the pure 
 sources of historical knowledge. You approach them, 
 men say, Hke the drunken yeoman who, once upon a 
 time, polluted the crystal spring which supplied the 
 thirst of his family, with a score of sugar loaves and a 
 hogshead of rum; and thereby converted a simple and 
 wholesome beverage into a stupifying, brutifying, and 
 intoxicating fluid, sweeter, indeed, to the taste than the 
 natural lymph, but, for that very reason, more seduc- 
 tively dangerous. 
 
 Author. I allow your metaphor, doctor; but yet, 
 though good punch cannot supply the want of spring 
 water, it is, when modestly used, no malum in se; and I 
 should have thought it a shabby thing of the parson of 
 the parish had he helped to drink out the well on Sat- 
 urday night and preached against the honest, hospitable 
 yeoman on Sunday morning. I should have answered 
 him that the very flavour of the liquor should have put 
 him at once upon his guard ; and that, if he had taken a 
 drop over much, he ought to blame his own imprudence 
 more than the hospitality of his entertainer. 
 
 Dryasdust. I profess I do not exactly see how this 
 applies. 
 
 Author. No; you are one of those numerous dispu- 
 tants who will never follow their metaphor a step further 
 than it goes their own way. I will explain. A poor fel- 
 
 xxvii
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 low, like myself, weary with ransacking his own barren 
 and bounded imagination, looks out for some general 
 subject in the huge and boundless field of history, which 
 holds forth examples of every kind ; lights on some per- 
 sonage, or some combination of circumstances, or some 
 striking trait of manners,' which he thinks may be 
 advantageously used as the basis of a fictitious nar- 
 rative; bedizens it with such colouring as his skill sug- 
 gests, ornaments it with such romantic circmnstances 
 as may heighten the general effect, invests it with such 
 shades of character as will best contrast with each 
 other, and thinks, perhaps, he has done some service to 
 the pubHc, if he can present to them a lively fictitious 
 picture, for which the original anecdote or circum- 
 stance which he made free to press into his service only 
 furnished a slight sketch. Now I cannot perceive any 
 harm in this. The stores of history are accessible to 
 every one, and are no more exhausted or impoverished 
 by the hints thus borrowed from them than the fountain 
 is drained by the water which we subtract for domestic 
 purposes. And in reply to the sober charge of falsehood 
 against a narrative announced positively to be ficti- 
 tious, one can only answer by Prior's exclamation — 
 
 Odzooks, must one swear to the truth of a song? 
 
 Dryasdust. Nay; but I fear me that you are here 
 eluding the charge. Men do not seriously accuse you of 
 misrepresenting history; although I assure you I have 
 seen some grave treatises in which it was thought neces- 
 sary to contradict your assertions. 
 
 Author. That certainly was to point a discharge of 
 artillery against a wreath of morning mist. 
 
 xxviii
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 Dryasdust. But besides, and especially, it is said that 
 you are in danger of causing history to be neglected, 
 readers being contented with such frothy and superficial 
 knowledge as they acquire from your works, to the 
 effect of inducing them to neglect the severer and more 
 accurate sources of information. 
 
 Author. I deny the consequence. On the contrary, I 
 rather hope that I have turned the attention of the pub- 
 lic on various points which have received elucidation 
 from writers of more learning and research, in conse- 
 quence of my novels having attached some interest to 
 them. I might give instances, but I hate vanity — I 
 hate vanity. The history of the divining-rod is well 
 known: it is a slight, valueless twig in itself, but indi- 
 cates, by its motion, where veins of precious metal are 
 concealed below the earth, which afterwards enrich 
 the adventurers by whom they are laboriously and care- 
 fully wrought. I claim no more merit for my historical 
 hints; but this is something. 
 
 Dryasdust. We severer antiquaries, sir, may grant 
 that this is true ; to wit, that your works may occasion- 
 ally have put men of solid judgment upon researches 
 which they would not perhaps have otherwise thought of 
 undertaking. But this will leave you still accountable 
 for misleading the young, the indolent, and the giddy, 
 by thrusting into their hands works which, while they 
 have so much the appearance of conveying information 
 as may prove perhaps a salve to their consciences for 
 employing their leisure in the perusal, yet leave their 
 giddy brains contented with the crude, uncertain, and 
 often false, statements which your novels abound with. 
 
 Author. It would be very unbecoming in me, reverend 
 
 xxix
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 sir, to accuse a gentleman of your cloth of cant; but, 
 pray, is there not something like it in the pathos with 
 which you enforce these dangers? I aver, on the con- 
 trary, that, by introducing the busy and the youthful 
 to 'truths severe in fairy fiction dressed,' ^ I am doing a 
 real service to the more ingenious and the more apt 
 among them; for the love of knowledge wants but a 
 beginning — the least spark will give fire when the train 
 is properly prepared; and having been interested in 
 fictitious adventures, ascribed to an 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. 
 
 But even where the mind of the more careless reader 
 remains satisfied with the light perusal he has afforded 
 to a tale of fiction, he will still lay down the book with 
 a degree of knowledge, not perhaps of the most accu- 
 rate kind, but such as he might not otherwise have 
 acquired. Nor is this limited to minds of a low and 
 incurious description; but, on the contrary, compre- 
 hends many persons otherwise of high talents, who, 
 nevertheless, either from lack of time or of perseverance, 
 are willing to sit down contented with the slight inform- 
 ation which is acquired in such a manner. The great 
 Duke of Marlborough, for example, having quoted in 
 conversation some fact of Enghsh history rather inac- 
 curately, was requested to name his authority. ' Shake- 
 speare's historical plays,' answered the conqueror of 
 
 1 The doctor has denied the Author's title to shelter himself under 
 this quotation; but the Author continues to think himself entitled to all 
 the shelter which, threadbare as it is, it may yet be able to afford him. 
 The truth severe applies not to the narrative itself, but to the moral it 
 conveys, in which the Author has not been thought deficient. The ' fairy 
 fiction * is the conduct of the story which the tale is invented to elucidate. 
 
 XXX
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 Blenheim; 'the only English history I ever read in my 
 life.' And a hasty recollection will convince any of us 
 how much better we are acquainted with those parts of 
 English history which that immortal bard has drama- 
 tised than with any other portion of British story. 
 
 Dryasdust. And you, worthy sir, are ambitious to 
 render a similar service to posterity? 
 
 Author. May the saints forefend I should be guilty 
 of such unfounded vanity! I only show what has been 
 done when there were giants in the land. We pigmies of 
 the present day may at least, however, do something; 
 and it is well to keep a pattern before our eyes, though 
 that pattern be inimitable. 
 
 Dryasdust. Well, sir, with me you must have your 
 own course; and for reasons well known to you it is 
 impossible for me to reply to you in argument. But I 
 doubt if all you have said will reconcile the public to 
 the anachronisms of your present volumes. Here you 
 have a Countess of Derby fetched out of her cold grave 
 and saddled with a set of adventures dated twenty years 
 after her death, besides being given up as a CathoUc 
 when she was in fact a zealous Huguenot. 
 
 Author. She may sue me for damages, as in the case 
 Dido versus Virgil. 
 
 Dryasdust. A worse fault is, that your manners are 
 even more incorrect than usual. Your Puritan is faintly 
 traced in comparison to your Cameronian. 
 
 Author. I agree to the charge; but although I still 
 consider hypocrisy and enthusiasm as fit food for ridi- 
 cule and satire, yet I am sensible of the difficulty of 
 holding fanaticism up to laughter or abhorrence without 
 using colouring which may give offence to the sincerely 
 
 xxxi
 
 PREFATORY LETTER 
 
 worthy and religious. Many things are lawful which, 
 we are taught, are not convenient; and there are many 
 tones of feeling which are too respectable to be insulted, 
 though we do not altogether sympathise with them. 
 
 Dryasdust. Not to mention, my worthy sir, that per- 
 haps you may think the subject exhausted, 
 
 AtUhor. The devil take the men of this generation 
 for putting the worst construction on their neighbour's 
 conduct! 
 
 So saying, and flinging a testy sort of adieu towards 
 me with his hand, he opened the door and ran hastily 
 downstairs. I started on my feet and rang for my serv- 
 ant, who instantly came. I demanded what had be- 
 come of the stranger. He denied that any such had been 
 admitted. I pointed to the empty decanters, and he — 
 he — he had the assurance to intimate that such vacan- 
 cies were sometimes made when I had no better com- 
 pany than my own. I do not know what to make of this 
 doubtful matter, but will certainly imitate your exam- 
 ple in placing this dialogue, with my present letter, at 
 the head of Peveril of the Peak. 
 
 I am, Dear Sir, very much, 
 
 Your faithful and obedient Servant, 
 
 Jonas Dryasdust. 
 
 Michaelmas Day, 1822, York.
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 When civil dudgeon first grew high , 
 And men fell out, they knew not why; 
 When foul words, jealousies, and fears 
 Set folk together by the ears. 
 
 Butler. 
 
 William, the Conqueror of England, was, or supposed 
 himself to be, the father of a certain William Peveril, 
 who attended him to the battle of Hastings, and there 
 distinguished himself. The liberal-minded monarch, 
 who assumed in his charters the veritable title of Guliel- 
 mus Bastardus, was not likely to let his son's illegitimacy 
 be any bar to the course of his royal favour, when the 
 laws of England were issued from the mouth of the Nor- 
 man victor, and the lands of the Saxons were at his un- 
 limited disposal. William Peveril obtained a liberal 
 grant of property and lordships in Derbyshire, and be- 
 came the erector of that Gothic fortress which, hanging 
 over the mouth of the Devil's Cavern, so well known to 
 tourists, gives the name of Castleton to the adjacent vil- 
 lage. 
 
 From this feudal baron, who chose his nest upon the 
 principles on which an eagle selects her eyrie, and built 
 it in such a fashion as if he had intended it, as an Irish- 
 man said of the Martello towers, for the sole purpose of 
 puzzling posterity, there was, or conceived themselves 
 
 87 I
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to be, descended (for their pedigree was rather hypo- 
 thetical) an opulent family of knightly rank, in the same 
 county of Derby. The great fief of Castleton, with its 
 adjacent wastes and forests, and all the wonders which 
 they contain, had been forfeited in King John's stormy 
 days by one William Peveril, and had been granted anew 
 to the Lord Ferrers of that day. Yet this WilHam's de- 
 scendants, though no longer possessed of what they al- 
 leged to have been their original property, were long dis- 
 tinguished by the proud title of Peverils of the Peak, 
 which served to mark their high descent and lofty pre- 
 tensions. 
 
 In Charles the Second's time, the representative of this 
 ancient family was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, a man who had 
 many of the ordinary attributes of an old-fashioned 
 country gentleman, and very few individual traits to 
 distinguish him from the general portrait of that worthy 
 class of mankind. He was proud of small advantages, 
 angry at small disappointments, incapable of forming 
 any resolution or opinion abstracted from his own pre- 
 judices; he was proud of his birth, lavish in his house- 
 keeping, convivial with those kindred and acquaintances 
 who would allow his superiority in rank; contentious and 
 quarrelsome with all that crossed his pretensions; kind 
 to the poor, except when they plundered his game; a 
 Royalist in his political opinions, and one who detested 
 alike a Roundhead, a poacher, and a Presbyterian. In 
 religion, Sir Geoffrey was a High Churchman of so ex- 
 alted a strain that many thought he still nourished in 
 private the Roman Catholic tenets, which his family 
 had only renounced in his father's time, and that he had 
 a dispensation for conforming in outward observances
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 to the Protestant faith. There was at least such a scan- 
 dal amongst the Puritans, and the influence which Sir 
 Geoffrey Peveril certainly appeared to possess amongst 
 the Catholic gentlemen of Derbyshire and Cheshire 
 seemed to give countenance to the rumour. 
 
 Such was Sir Geoffrey, who might have passed to his 
 grave without further distinction than a brass plate in the 
 chancel, had he not lived in times which forced the most 
 inactive spirits into exertion, as a tempest influences the 
 sluggish waters of the deadest meer. When the Civil Wars 
 broke out, Peveril of the Peak, proud from pedigree and 
 brave by constitution, raised a regiment for the King, and 
 showed upon several occasions more capacity for com- 
 mand than men had heretofore given him credit for. 
 
 Even in the midst of the civil turmoil, he fell in love 
 with, and married, a beautiful and amiable young lady 
 of the noble house of Stanley; and from that time had 
 the more merit in his loyalty, as it divorced him from 
 her society, unless at very brief intervals, when his duty 
 permitted an occasional visit to his home. Scorning to 
 be allured from his miHtary duty by domestic induce- 
 ments, Peveril of the Peak fought on for several rough 
 years of civil war, and performed his part with sufficient 
 gallantry, until his regiment was surprised and cut to 
 pieces by Poyntz, Cromwell's enterprising and successful 
 general of cavalry. The defeated Cavalier escaped from 
 the field of battle, and, like a true descendant of William 
 the Conqueror, disdaining submission, threw himself 
 into his own castellated mansion, which was attacked 
 and defended in a siege of that irregular kind which 
 caused the destruction of so many baronial residences 
 during the course of those unhappy wars. Martindale
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Castle, after having suffered severely from the cannon 
 which Cromwell himself brought against it, was at 
 length surrendered when in the last extremity. Sir 
 Geoffrey himself became a prisoner, and while his liberty 
 was only restored upon a promise of remaining a peace- 
 ful subject to the Commonwealth in future, his former 
 delinquencies, as they were termed by the ruling party, 
 were severely punished by fine and sequestration. 
 
 But neither his forced promise nor the fear of further 
 impleasant consequences to his person or property could 
 prevent Peveril of the Peak from joining the gallant Earl 
 of Derby the night before the fatal engagement in Wig- 
 gan Lane, where the earl's forces were dispersed. Sir 
 Geoffrey, having had his share in that action, escaped 
 with the rehcs of the Royahsts after the defeat, to join 
 Charles II. He witnessed also the final defeat of Wor- 
 cester, where he was a second time made prisoner; and 
 as, in the opinion of Cromwell and the language of the 
 times, he was regarded as an obstinate Malignant, he 
 was in great danger of having shared with the Earl of 
 Derby his execution at Bolton-le-Moors, having par- 
 taken with him the dangers of two actions. But Sir 
 Geoffrey's Hfe was preserved by the interest of a friend, 
 who possessed influence in the councils of Ohver. This 
 was a Mr. Bridgenorth, a gentleman of middhng quaUty, 
 whose father had been successful in some commercial 
 adventure during the peaceful reign of James I ; and who 
 had bequeathed his son a considerable sum of money, 
 in addition to the moderate patrimony which he inher- 
 ited from his father. 
 
 The substantial, though small-sized, brick building of 
 Moultrassie Hall was but two miles distant from Mar-
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 tindale Castle, and the young Bridgenorth attended the 
 same school with the heir of the Peverils. A sort of com- 
 panionship, if not intimacy, took place betwixt them, 
 which continued during their youthful sports — the 
 rather that Bridgenorth, though he did not at heart 
 admit Sir Geoffrey's claims of superiority to the extent 
 which the other's vanity would have exacted, paid defer- 
 ence in a reasonable degree to the representative of a 
 family so much more ancient and important than his 
 own, without conceiving that he in any respect degraded 
 himself by doing so. 
 
 Mr. Bridgenorth did not, however, carry his com- 
 plaisance so far as to embrace Sir Geoffrey's side during 
 the Civil War. On the contrary, as an active justice of 
 the peace, he rendered much assistance in arraying the 
 militia in the cause of the Parliament, and for some time 
 held a military commission in that service. This was 
 partly owing to his rehgious principles, for he was a 
 zealous Presbyterian, partly to his political ideas, which, 
 without being absolutely democratical, favoured the 
 popular side of the great national question. Besides, he 
 was a moneyed man, and to a certain extent had a shrewd 
 eye to his worldly interest. He understood how to im- 
 prove the opportunities which civil war afforded of ad- 
 vancing his fortune, by a dexterous use of his capital; 
 and he was not at a loss to perceive that these were 
 hkely 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 friendly communication betwixt 
 his neighbour and him was abruptly broken asunder. 
 
 S
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 This was done with the less acrimony that, during the 
 Civil War, Sir Geoffrey was almost constantly in the 
 field, following the vacillating and unhappy fortunes of 
 his master; while Major Bridgenorth, who soon re- 
 nounced active miUtary service, resided chiefly in Lon- 
 don, and only occasionally visited the hall. 
 
 Upon these visits, it was with great pleasure he re- 
 ceived the intelHgence that Lady Peveril had shown 
 much kindness to Mrs. Bridgenorth, and had actually 
 given her and her family shelter in Martindale Castle 
 when Moultrassie Hall was threatened with pillage by 
 a body of Prince Rupert's ill-disciplined Cavaliers. This 
 acquaintance had been matured by frequent walks to- 
 gether, which the vicinity of their places of residence 
 suffered the Lady Peveril to have with Mrs. Bridgenorth, 
 who deemed herself much honoured in being thus ad- 
 mitted into the society of so distinguished a lady. Ma- 
 jor Bridgenorth heard of this growing intimacy with 
 great pleasure, and he determined to repay the obliga- 
 tion, 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 Geoffrey's life was 
 saved after the battle of Worcester. He obtained him 
 permission 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 the 
 composition, the knight was obliged to sell a consider- 
 able portion of his patrimony. Major Bridgenorth be- 
 came 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 
 
 6
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 
 true 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 Bridgenorth took credit to himself, and re- 
 ceived it from others, for having, 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 exulta- 
 tion with great moderation, and was disposed to show 
 him personally the same deference in his present sunshine 
 of prosperity which he had exhibited formerly 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 deli- 
 cacy, in consideration of which he forgot many things. 
 He forgot that Major Bridgenorth was already in pos- 
 session 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 
 it was still more difficult not to remember, the altered 
 situation in which they and their mansions now stood 
 to each other.
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Before the Civil War, the superb battlements and tur- 
 rets of Martindale 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 the enlarged and 
 augmented hall was as much predominant in the land- 
 scape 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 its 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 pro- 
 spects of the two neighbours were exchanged as disad- 
 vantageously 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 for the protec- 
 tion of the Cavalier and the Mahgnant, they would have 
 been as effectual if applied to procure his utter ruin, and 
 that he was become a client while his neighbour was ele- 
 vated into a patron. 
 
 There were two considerations, besides the necessity 
 of the case and the constant advice of his lady, which en- 
 abled Peveril of the Peak to endure, with some patience, 
 this state of degradation. The first was, that the poh tics of 
 Major Bridgenorth began, on many points, to assimilate 
 themselves to his own. As a Presbyterian, he was not 
 an utter enemy to monarchy, and had been considerably
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 shocked at the unexpected trial and execution of the 
 King; as a civilian and a man of property, he feared the 
 domination of the military; and though he wished not 
 to see Charles restored by force of arms, yet he arrived 
 at the conclusion that to bring back the 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 Brit- 
 ain. 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 all the 
 conspiracies of the Royalists, to involve him in the un- 
 fortunate rising of Penruddock and Groves in the west, 
 in which many of the Presbyterian interest, as well 
 as the Cavalier party, were engaged. And though his 
 habitual prudence eventually kept him out of this and 
 other dangers. Major Bridgenorth was considered, dur- 
 ing the last years of Cromwell's domination and the 
 interregnum which succeeded, as a disaffected person 
 to the Commonwealth and a favourer of Charles Stuart. 
 But, besides this approximation to the same political 
 opinions, another bond of intimacy united the families 
 of the castle and the hall. Major Bridgenorth, fortun- 
 ate, 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 
 compassion to his poorer and more decayed neighbour. 
 Betwixt the breaking out of the Civil War and the 
 Restoration, he lost successively a family of no less than 
 six children, apparently through a delicacy of constitu-
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tion, 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 Bridgenorth 
 was childless; ere it ended, he had a daughter, indeed, 
 but her birth was purchased by the death of an affec- 
 tionate wife, whose constitution had been exhausted by 
 maternal grief, and by the anxious and harrowing re- 
 flection that from her the children they had lost derived 
 that delicacy of health which proved unable to undergo 
 the tear and wear of existence. The same voice which 
 told Bridgenorth that he was father of a living child (it 
 was the friendly voice of Lady Peveril) communicated 
 to him the melancholy intelligence that he was no longer 
 a husband. The feelings of Major Bridgenorth were 
 strong and deep, rather than hasty and vehement; 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 pastor, nor the ghostly 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 S3rmpathy, tried on the sufferer one of those experi- 
 ments by which grief is often awakened from despond- 
 ency into tears. She placed in Bridgenorth's arms the in- 
 fant whose birth had cost him so dear, and conjured him 
 to remember that his Alice was not yet dead, since she 
 survived in the helpless child she had left to his paternal 
 care. 
 
 10
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 * 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 'Be comforted,' but she ventured to 
 promise that the blossom should ripen to fruit. 
 
 'Never — never!' said Bridgenorth; 'take the un- 
 happy child away, and let me only know when I shall 
 wear black for her. Wear black!' he exclaimed, inter- 
 rupting himself, 'what other colour shall I wear during 
 the remainder of my life? ' 
 
 'I will take the child for a season,' said Lady Peveril, 
 'since the sight of her is so painful to you; and the 
 little AHce shall share the nursery of our JuHan, 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 the over- 
 
 II
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 care and over-nursing of a mother rendered nervously 
 cautious and anxious by so many successive 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 sub- 
 jected to rather a different course of diet and treatment 
 than was then generally practised. She resolved to fol- 
 low 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 bolder admission of fresh air, 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 liveHness. 
 
 Sir Geoffrey, like most men of his frank and good- 
 natured disposition, was naturally fond of children, and 
 so much compassionated 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 be violated by the heretical step of a dis- 
 senting 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 tri- 
 umph through the court-door when IMartindale 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, that he 
 
 12
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 was induced to connive at the ceremony taking place in 
 a remote garden-house, which was not properly within 
 the precincts of the 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 Com- 
 mons, upon a thanksgiving occasion after the rehef 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 anything of what had 
 taken place in it. 
 
 But, whatever prejudices the good knight might en- 
 tertain against his neighbour's form of reHgion, they did 
 not in any way influence his feehngs 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 Moul- 
 trassie 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 proprietor sat in soli- 
 tary wretchedness and despondency; but more fre- 
 quently, for Sir Geoffrey did not pretend to great talents 
 of conversation, 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 miUtary rank of major) ; I just looked in to 
 bid you keep a good heart, man, and to tell you that 
 
 13
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Julian is well, and little Alice 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 Bridgenorth'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 epi- 
 cure hears the dinner-bell, 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 
 reflection on what has passed; and fancy, dwelling on 
 each brief circumstance, gives to seconds the duration 
 of minutes, to minutes that of hours. Thus, seated in his 
 lonely chair, Bridgenorth could catch at a distance the 
 stately step of Sir Geoffrey, or the heavy tramp of his 
 war-horse. Black Hastings, which had borne him in 
 many an action; he could hear the hum of 'The King 
 shall enjoy his own again,' or the habitual whistle of 
 'Cuckolds and Roundheads,' 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. 
 
 14
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 By degrees the communication became something 
 more protracted, 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 situa- 
 tion of the country, distracted as it was by the contend- 
 ing factions, whose strife only terminated in the Restor- 
 ation. Still, however, though slowly recovering from 
 the effects of the shock which he had sustained, Major 
 Bridgenorth 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 anything the 
 world afforded, 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 respects, he was unable to lay aside 
 the gloomy impression that this remaining pledge of 
 affection 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 sjonptoms of the fatal malady had 
 begun to show themselves. 
 
 The voice of Peveril continued to be that of a com- 
 forter, until the month of April, 1660, when it suddenly 
 assumed a new and different 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- 
 
 15
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 yard, as Sir Geoffrey sprang from his great war-saddle, 
 now once more garnished with pistols of two feet 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 sparkUng and his 
 cheek inflamed, while he called out, 'Up! — up, neigh- 
 bour! No time now to mope in the chimney-corner! 
 Where is your buff-coat and broadsword, 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 this?' said Bridgenorth. 'Is all well 
 with you — all well at Martindale Castle, Sir Geoffrey? * 
 
 'Well as you could wish them, Alice and Juhan and 
 all. But I have news worth twenty of that. Monk has 
 declared at London against those stinking scoundrels 
 the Rump. Fairfax is up in Yorkshire for the King — 
 for the King, man ! Churchmen, Presbyterians, and all, 
 are in buff and bandelier for King Charles. I have a let- 
 ter 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 forth this elegant effusion of loyal 
 enthusiasm, the sturdy Cavaher's heart became too full. 
 
 i6
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 that of 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 attending the repeated contests 
 between the factions of Westminster Hall and of Wal- 
 lingford 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 Chester- 
 field when news arrived that the King had landed in 
 England; and Sir Geoffrey instantly announced his 
 purpose of waiting upon his Majesty, even before his 
 return to the Castle of Martindale. 
 
 *Who knows, neighbour,' he said, 'whether Sir 
 Geoffrey Peveril will ever return to Martindale? Titles 
 must be going amongst them yonder, and I have de- 
 served something among the rest. Lord Peveril would 
 sound well — or stay, Earl of Martindale — no, not of 
 Martindale — Earl of the Peak. Meanwhile, trust your 
 affairs to me — I will see you secured. I would you had 
 been no Presbyterian, neighbour — a knighthood — I 
 mean a knight-bachelor, not a knight-baronet — would 
 have served your turn well.' 
 
 87 17
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *I leave these things to my betters, Sir Geoffrey/ said 
 the major, * and desire nothing so earnestly as to find all 
 well at Martindale when I return.' 
 
 'You will — you will find them all well,' said the 
 baronet — 'Julian, Alice, Lady Peveril, and all of them. 
 Bear my commendations to them, and kiss them all, 
 neighbour, Lady Peveril and all; you may kiss a countess 
 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 Bridge- 
 north, 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-Barleycoml 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 Whatever rewards Charles might have condescended 
 to bestow in acknowledgment of the sufferings and loy- 
 alty of Peveril of the Peak, he had none in his disposal 
 equal to the pleasure which Providence 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 unbecom- 
 ing 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 Martin- 
 dale 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 him- 
 self 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 
 
 19
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 more: I shall once more see a beloved being to whom I 
 have given birth gliding to the grave which ought to 
 inclose 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 assur- 
 ances of her husband's safety, and of his hopes of pre- 
 ferment. 
 
 'For the 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 
 Bridgenorth, the folly of putting faith in idle presenti- 
 ments of evil. So often had Sir Geoffrey's repeated 
 attempts in favour of the Stuarts led him into new mis- 
 fortunes, 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 anticipa- 
 tions of impending calamity, which it may please God 
 to avert in your case as it has done in mine; and here 
 comes a sight which bears good assurance of it.' 
 
 The door of the apartment opened as she spoke, and 
 two lovely children entered. The eldest, JuHan Peveril, 
 a fine boy betwixt four and five years old, led in his 
 hand, with an air of dignified support and attention, a 
 httle girl of eighteen months, who rolled and tottered 
 along, keeping herself with difficulty upright by the 
 
 20
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 assistance of her elder, stronger, and masculine com- 
 panion. 
 
 Bridgenorth cast a hasty and fearful glance upon the 
 countenance of his daughter, and, even in that glimpse, 
 perceived, with exquisite 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 
 nature, smiled in reply to them. Again he held her at 
 some distance from him, and examined her more atten- 
 tively; 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. 
 
 *I 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 Httle AUce, and — ' 
 
 *God forbid my girl should ever come to Moultrassie,' 
 said Major Bridgenorth, 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 Bridgenorth,' answered the lady. 'If you do so,
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 we must suppose that you are undervaluing my quali- 
 ties as a nurse. If she goes not to her father's house, she 
 shall not quit mine. I will keep the little lady as a 
 pledge of her safety 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 
 Bridgenortli. It was precisely the point which he would 
 have given worlds to arrive 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, superstitious respecting its fatal effects, 
 and ascribe to place, circumstance, and individual care 
 much more perhaps than these can in any case contrib- 
 ute 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 which he dwelt, were really calculated to produce the 
 evil which most of all he dreaded. She pitied him, she 
 felt for him, she was grateful for former protection re- 
 ceived at his hands, she had become interested in the 
 child itself. What female fails to feel such interest in 
 the helpless creature she has tended? 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 char- 
 acter was not then confined to the old and the foolish, 
 she was proud of the skill by which she had averted the 
 probable attacks of hereditary malady, so inveterate in 
 the family of Bridgenorth. It needed not, perhaps, in 
 
 22
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 other cases, that so many reasons should be assigned for 
 an act of neighbourly humanity; but civil war had so 
 lately torn the country asunder, and broken all the 
 usual ties of vicinage and good neighbourhood, 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 with 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 I of middling parentage only. He uses 
 the Church Service, and I the catechism of the Assem- 
 bly 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 wrought by 
 the direct hand of Providence, may be the means of 
 closing and healing all civil and religious dissensions 
 among us, and that, instead of showing the superior 
 purity of our faith, by persecuting those who think 
 otherwise from ourselves on doctrinal points, we shall 
 endeavour to show its real Christian tendency, by emu- 
 lating 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 dic- 
 
 23
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tates,' answered Bridgenorth, who had his own share 
 of the narrow-mindedness of the time; 'and sure am I, 
 that if all who call themselves loyalists and Cavaliers 
 thought like you — and Uke my friend Sir Geoffrey (this 
 he added after a moment's pause, being perhaps rather 
 complimentary than sincere), we, who thought it our 
 duty in time past to take arms for freedom of conscience, 
 and against arbitrary 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 revenge 
 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 they were so anticipated, are most un- 
 likely to come to pass. You know what Shakespeare 
 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 conscience will 
 permit.' 
 
 'Since you permit 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, 
 
 24 .
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 if you will be a subject of mine for one day, neighbour, 
 I am going, at my lord and husband's command, to issue 
 out my warrants to invite the whole neighbourhood to a 
 solemn feast at the castle 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 Kjng's Restoration, and 
 thereby to show that we are to be henceforward a united 
 people.' 
 
 The Parliamentarian major was considerably embar- 
 rassed by this proposal. He looked upwards and down- 
 wards and around, cast his eye first to the oak-carved 
 ceiling, and anon fixed it upon the floor; then threw it 
 around the room till it lighted on his 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, per- 
 haps from the depression which is natural to a desolate 
 and deprived man, in whose ear mirth is marred, like 
 a pleasant air when performed on a mistuned instru- 
 ment. But though neither my thoughts nor tempera- 
 ment are jovial or mercurial, it becomes me to be grate- 
 ful 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? Madam, I will wait on your gra- 
 cious invitation with acceptance, and such of my friends 
 
 2S
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 with whom I may possess influence, and whose presence 
 your ladyship may desire, shall accompany 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 Bridgenorth took his departure for 
 Moultrassie Hall.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 Here's neither want of appetite nor mouths; 
 Pray Heaven we be not scant of meat or mirth I 
 
 OU 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 pre- 
 sides has but to intimate to her menials the day and 
 hour when she wills it to take place. At that simple 
 period, the lady was expected to enter deeply into the 
 arrangement and provision of the whole affair; and from 
 a httle gallery, which communicated with her own pri- 
 vate apartment, and looked down upon the kitchen, her 
 shrill voice was to be heard, from time to time, Hke that 
 of the warning spirit in a tempest, rising above the 
 clash of pots and stew-pans, 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 accompaniment 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 tyrannical conduct of hus- 
 bands, in such cases, is universal; and I scarce know one 
 householder of my acquaintance who has not, on some 
 ill-omened and most inconvenient season, announced 
 suddenly to his innocent helpmate that he had invited 
 
 27
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 directed 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 explaining where the 
 provisions were to come from. The deer-park had lain 
 waste ever since the siege; the dovecot could do little 
 to furnish forth such an entertainment; the fish-ponds, 
 it is true, were well provided (which the neighbouring 
 Presbyterians noted as a suspicious circimistance) , and 
 game was to be had for the shooting upon the extensive 
 heaths and hills of Derbyshire. But these were but the 
 secondary parts of a banquet; and the house-steward 
 and bailiff, Lady Peveril's only coadjutors and coun- 
 sellors, could not agree how the butcher-meat — the 
 most substantial part, or, as it were, the main body of 
 the entertainment — was to be suppKed. The house- 
 steward threatened the sacrifice of a fine yoke of young 
 bullocks, which the baiHff, who pleaded the necessity 
 of their agricultural 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 just, 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 
 
 28
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 and fears, victories and defeats, struggles and sufferings, 
 all arising 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, Dy which his highest 
 wishes were not only gratified but far exceeded, occa- 
 sioned 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 con- 
 ciliated all who approached him; the knight's services 
 and merits had been fully acknowledged, and recom- 
 pense 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 to find beef and 
 mutton to feast his neighbours? 
 
 Luckily, however, for the embarrassed 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 
 Bridgenorth for the sum necessary to carry her hus- 
 band's commands into effect, and whilst she was bit- 
 terly regretting 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 land- 
 ing at Dover, burst into the apartment, snapping his 
 fingers, and showing more marks of deHght than was 
 quite consistent with the dignity of my lady's large 
 parlour. 
 
 'What means this, Whi taker?' said the lady, some- 
 what peevishly; for she was interrupted in the com- 
 
 29
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 mencement of a letter to her neighbour on the unpleas- 
 ant 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 better 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; and Gatherill 
 may have his d — d mains ploughed to the boot.' 
 
 The lady, without further questioning her elated 
 domestic, rose and went to the window, where she cer- 
 tainly 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 Whit- 
 aker; 'the fellow who drove them was a west-country- 
 man, and only said they came from a friend to help to 
 furnish out your ladyship's entertainment. The man 
 would not stay to drink; I am sorry he would not stay 
 to drink — I crave your ladyship's pardon for not keep- 
 ing 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 — !' 
 
 30
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'It was no great compulsion, I suppose/ said the lady; 
 'but, Whitaker, suppose you should show your joy on 
 such occasions by drinking and swearing a little less, 
 rather than a Httle 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 servant; and I know it does not become 
 me to drink and swear like your ladyship — that 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 
 northwest turret, with a black-jack in his hand — I say, 
 how is an old Cavalier Hke 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 inti- 
 mate 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 approaching banquet. 
 
 Whitaker, instead of receiving the list with the mute 
 acquiescence of a modern major-domo, carried it into 
 the recess of one of the windows, and, adjusting his 
 spectacles, began to read it to himself. The first names, 
 being those of distinguished Cavalier families in the 
 neighbourhood, he muttered over in a tone of approba- 
 tion — paused and pshawed at that of Bridgenorth — 
 yet acquiesced, with the observation, ' But he is a good 
 
 31
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 neighbour, so it may pass for once.' But when he read 
 the name and surname of Nehemiah Solsgrace, the 
 Presbyterian parson, Whitaker's patience altogether 
 forsook him; and he declared he would as soon throw 
 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 Whi taker ! ' 
 
 'You presume on your long services, Whi taker, 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 at- 
 tention of the refractory steward, notwithstanding his 
 present state of elevation ; but he no sooner saw that her 
 eye gHstened 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 Whitaker 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 foot of Satan; but then 
 your honourable ladyship hath a right to invite Satan 
 himself, cloven foot and all, to Martindale Castle; and 
 
 * A chasm in the earth supposed to be unfathomable, one of the 
 wonders of the Peak, 
 
 32
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 Uttle village 
 called Martindale-Moultrassie, which stood consider- 
 ably to the eastward both of the castle and hall, from 
 which it took its double name, at about an equal dis- 
 tance from both; so that, suppose a hne drawn from 
 the one manor-house to the other to be the base of a 
 triangle, the village would have occupied the sahent 
 angle. As the said village, since the late transference 
 of a part of Peveril's property, belonged to Sir Geoffrey 
 and to Bridgenorth 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 ma- 
 jor of being the unknown friend who had relieved her 
 from the dilemma arising from the want of provisions; 
 and she esteemed herself happy when a visit from him, 
 on the day preceding the proposed entertainment, gave 
 her, as she thought, an opportunity of expressing her 
 gratitude. 
 
 27
 
 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 dis- 
 clamation with which Major Bridgenorth repHed to 
 the thanks tendered to him by Lady Peveril for the 
 supply of provisions which had reached her castle so 
 opportunely. He seemed first not to be aware what 
 she alluded to; and when she explained the circum- 
 stance, he protested so seriously that he had no share 
 in the benefit conferred that Lady Peveril was com- 
 pelled to believe him; the rather that, being a man of 
 a plain downright character, affecting no refined deli- 
 cacy of sentiment, and practising almost a Quaker-like 
 sincerity of expression, it would have been much con- 
 trary 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 in- 
 deed some reference to the festivity of to-morrow.' 
 Lady Peveril listened, but as her visitor seemed to find 
 some difficulty in expressing himself, she was compelled 
 to ask an explanation. 'Madam,' said the major, 'you 
 are not perhaps entirely ignorant that the more 
 tender-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 
 
 34
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 as articles of faith, or at least greatly to 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 allu- 
 sions 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 understand me. To be plain, then, I allude to 
 the fashion of drinking healths, and pledging each other 
 in draughts of strong Uquor, which most among us con- 
 sider as a superfluous and sinful provoking of each other 
 to debauchery, and the excessive use of strong drink; 
 and which, besides, if derived, as learned divines have 
 supposed, from the custom of the blinded pagans, who 
 made Hbations 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 top- 
 ics which were likely to introduce discord into the pro- 
 posed festivity; but this very ridiculous, yet fatal, 
 discrepancy betwixt the manners of the parties on 
 convivial occasions had entirely escaped her. She en- 
 deavoured to soothe the objecting party, whose brows 
 were knit like one who had fixed an opinion by which 
 be was determined to abide. 
 
 * I grant,' she said, 'my good neighbour, that this cus- 
 tom 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 conversation. But I think, when it 
 hath not this consequence, it is a thing indifferent, af- 
 fords a unanimous mode of expressing our good wishes 
 
 35
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 King, or to my husband, after the old English 
 fashion/ 
 
 *My lady,' said the major, *if the age of fashion were 
 to command it. Popery is one of the oldest English fash- 
 ions that I have heard of; but it is our happiness that we 
 are not benighted hke 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 to be 
 thought so wise a man would have done, but that 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 accom- 
 modate 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 to Satan.' 
 
 'How, sir!' said the lady; 'do you bring Satan into 
 comparison with our master King Charles and with my 
 noble lord and husband?' 
 
 36
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 '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 
 quaffing 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 sitting still? ' 
 
 But neither would this composition satisfy Bridge- 
 north, 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 
 particularly and ilHberally tenacious of the petty dis- 
 tinctions which his sect adopted; and while he thought 
 with considerable apprehension on the accession of 
 power which Popery, Prelacy, and Peveril of the Peak 
 were like to acquire by the late revolution, became natu- 
 rally anxious to put his flock on their guard, and prevent 
 their being kidnapped by the wolf. He disliked extremely 
 that Major Bridgenorth, 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 Canaanitish woman; 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 conviviahty only as a making merry in the 
 house of Tirzah. 
 
 37
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Upon receiving this rebuke from his pastor, Bridge- 
 north 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. Bridgenorth, therefore, as the delegate 
 and representative of his party, was bound to stand firm 
 against all entreaty, and the lady became greatly embar- 
 rassed. She now regretted sincerely that her well-in- 
 tended invitation had ever been given, for she foresaw 
 that its rejection was to awaken all former subjects of 
 quarrel, and perhaps 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 Presby- 
 terians would have been to offend 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 article 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 took effect ; for, though 
 the ParHamentary major stood firm, the father, as in the 
 case 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 
 
 38
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 should be occupied by the jovial Cavaliers; and that each 
 party should regulate their potations after their own 
 conscience or after their own fashion. 
 
 Major Bridgenorth himself seemed greatly relieved 
 after this important matter had been settled. He had 
 held it matter of conscience to be stubborn in maintain- 
 ing his own opinion, but was heartily glad when he es- 
 caped from the apparently inevitable necessity of af- 
 fronting Lady Peveril by the refusal of her invitation. 
 He remained 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 al- 
 ready resolved ; and such was his authority among them, 
 that, though the preacher longed to pronounce a separ- 
 ation 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 party being put upon the alert by 
 the consequences 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 effec- 
 tual 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 bring- 
 ing the Capulets and Montagues of Derbyshire together 
 on the same occasion of public festivity. 
 
 As it was now settled that the guests were to form two 
 different parties, it became not only a subject of dispute 
 
 39
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 betwixt themselves which should be first admitted within 
 the Castle of Martindale, but matter of serious appre- 
 hension to Lady Peveril and Major Bridgenorth, lest, if 
 they were to approach by the same avenue and entrance, 
 a quarrel might take place betwixt them, and proceed 
 to extremities, even before they reached the place of en- 
 tertainment. The lady believed she had discovered an 
 admirable expedient for preventing the possibility of 
 such interference, by directing that the CavaUers 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 
 bye-path, to drive the cattle down to their pasture in the 
 wood. By this contrivance the Lady Peveril imagined 
 she had altogether avoided the various risks which might 
 occur from two such parties encountering each other, 
 and disputing for precedence. Several other circum- 
 stances of less importance were adjusted at the same 
 time, and apparently so much to the satisfaction of the 
 Presbyterian teacher that, in a long lecture on the sub- 
 ject of the marriage garment, he was at the pains to ex- 
 plain 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 exhorted 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 Dr. Dummerar, the ejected Episcopal vicar of 
 40
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Martindale cum Moultrassie, preached to the Cavaliers 
 on the same subject. He had served the cure before the 
 breaking out of the RebelKon, 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 accom- 
 plishments, the doctor had the honour to be recorded by 
 old Century White amongst the roll of lewd, incompe- 
 tent, profligate clergymen of the Church of England, 
 whom he denounced to God and man, on account 
 chiefly of the heinous sin of playing at games of skill and 
 chance, and of occasionally joining in the social meetings 
 of their parishioners. When the King's party began to 
 lose ground, Dr. Dummerar left his vicarage, and, be- 
 taking himself to the camp, showed upon several occa- 
 sions, when acting as chaplain to Sir Geoffrey Peveril's 
 regiment, that his portly bodily presence included a stout 
 and masculine heart. When all was lost, and he himself, 
 with most other loyal divines, was deprived of his living, 
 he made such shift as he could; now lurking in the gar- 
 rets of old friends in the university, who shared with him 
 and such as him, the slender means of livelihood which 
 the evil times had left them; 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. Dr. Dummerar emerged from 
 some one of his hiding-places, and hied him to Martindale 
 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 
 
 41
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 neighbouring gentry, added not a little to the alarm 
 which was gradually extending itself through the party 
 which were so lately the uppermost. It is true, Dr. 
 Dummerar framed (honest, worthy man) no extrava- 
 gant views of elevation or preferment; but the probabil- 
 ity of his being replaced in the Hving, 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 inter- 
 est of the two preachers, therefore, as well as the senti- 
 ments 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 heahng ordin- 
 ance. 
 
 Nevertheless, as we have already hinted. Dr. Dum- 
 merar behaved as handsomely upon the occasion as the 
 Presbyterian incumbent had done. It is true that, in a 
 sermon which he preached in the castle hall to several 
 of the most distinguished CavaUer famihes, 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 committed by the rebellious party during the 
 late evil times, and greatly magnified the merciful and 
 peaceful nature of the honourable lady of the manor, 
 who condescended to look upon, or receive into her house 
 in the way of friendship and hospitaHty, men holding the 
 principles which had led to the murder of the King, the 
 slaying and despoihng his loyal subjects, and the plun- 
 dering and breaking down of the church of God. But 
 then he wiped all this handsomely up again with the ob- 
 servation that, since it was the will of their gracious and 
 
 42
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 newly restored sovereign, and the pleasure of the wor- 
 shipful Lady Peveril, that this contumacious and rebel- 
 lious race should be, for a time, forborne by their faith- 
 ful subjects, it would be highly proper that all the loyal 
 liegemen should, for the present, eschew subjects of dis- 
 sension or quarrel with these sons of Shimei; which les- 
 son 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 ex- 
 culpated before God and man in extirpating them from 
 the face of the earth. 
 
 The close observers of the remarkable passages of the 
 times from 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 corresponding forebodings on the mind of 
 Lady Peveril, the day of festivity at length arrived. 
 
 By different routes, and forming each a sort of pro- 
 cession, as if the adherents of each party were desirous 
 of exhibiting its strength and numbers, the two several 
 factions approached Martindale Castle ; and so distinct 
 did they appear in dress, aspect, and manners, that it 
 seemed as if the revellers of a bridal party 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 num- 
 bers, 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 
 
 43
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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. Be- 
 sides, the country people of England had, and still have, 
 an animated attachment to field sports, and a natural 
 unrestrained joviality of disposition, which rendered 
 them impatient under the severe discipline of the fan- 
 atical preachers; while they were not less naturally dis- 
 contented with the military 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 inclined 
 them to cling to their former opinions, Hke the traveller 
 in the fable to his cloak, the more strongly that the tem- 
 pest blew around them, detained in the ranks of the 
 Puritans many who, if no longer formidable from num- 
 bers, were still so from their character. They consisted 
 chiefly of the middling gentry, with others whom in- 
 dustry or successful speculations in commerce or in 
 mining had raised into eminence — the persons who feel 
 most umbrage from the overshadowing aristocracy, and 
 
 44
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 are usually the most vehement in defence of what they 
 hold to be their rights. Their dress was in general stu- 
 diously simple and unostentatious, or only remarkable 
 by the contradictory affectation of extreme simplicity 
 or carelessness. The dark colour of their cloaks, varying 
 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 CavaHers loved to adorn their trusty rapiers; 
 the shortness of their hair, which made their ears appear 
 of disproportioned 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 government, 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 hke 
 veterans after a defeat, which may have checked their 
 career and wounded their pride, but has left their cour- 
 age imdiminished. 
 
 The melancholy, now become habitual, which over- 
 cast 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 sur- 
 rounded the castle, they felt a momentary impression 
 of degradation, as if they were yielding the highroad to 
 their old and oft-defeated enemies the Cavaliers. When 
 they began to ascend the winding path, which had been 
 
 45
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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-tower, 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. 
 Holdfast 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 Httle thought 
 that, when my own hand helped to level the cannon 
 which Oliver pointed against yon tower, we should have 
 been obliged to climb hke foxes up the very walls which 
 we won by our bow and by our spear. Methought these 
 Mahgnants 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 dishonourably, seeing we ascend by the gate 
 which the Lord opened to the godly.' 
 
 The words of the pastor were like a spark to gun- 
 powder. The countenances of the mournful retinue sud- 
 denly 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 uplifted, with 
 one consent, one of the triumphant songs in which the 
 Israelites celebrated the victories which had been vouch- 
 safed to them over the heathen inhabitants of the Pro- 
 mised Land : — 
 
 46
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Let God arise, and then 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 joy- 
 ous band of the Cavaliers, who, decked in whatever 
 pomp their repeated misfortunes 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 parties 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 licen- 
 tious profligacy. Gay, gallant fellows, young and old, 
 thronged together towards the ancient castle, with gen- 
 eral and joyous manifestation of those spirits which, as 
 they had been buoyant enough to support their owners 
 
 47
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 during the worst of times, as they termed Oliver's usur- 
 pation, were now so inflated as to transport them nearly 
 beyond the reach of sober reason. Feathers waved, lace 
 glittered, spears jingled, steeds caracoled; and here and 
 there a petronel or pistol was fired off by some one, who 
 found his own natural talents for making a noise inade- 
 quate to the dignity of the occasion. Boys — for, as we 
 said before, the rabble were with the uppermost party, 
 as usual — hallooed and whooped, 'Down with the 
 Rump,' and 'Fie upon Oliver!' Musical instruments, of 
 as many different fashions as were then in use, played 
 all at once, and without any regard to each other's tune; 
 and the glee of the occasion, while it reconciled the pride 
 of the high-born of the party to fraternise with the gen- 
 eral rout, derived an additional zest from the conscious 
 triumph that their exultation was heard by their neigh- 
 bours, the crestfallen Roundheads. 
 
 When the loud and sonorous swell of the psalm-tune, 
 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 psalm- 
 odists the contempt of their auditors; but this was a 
 forced exertion of party spleen. There is something in 
 melancholy feelings more natural to an imperfect and 
 suffering state than in those of gaiety, and when they 
 are brought into collision the former seldom fail to tri- 
 umph. 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 
 
 48
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 gloom of the other. But the Cavaliers, moreover, had 
 sympathies of a different kind. The psalm-time which 
 now came rolling on their ear had been heard too often, 
 and upon too many occasions had preceded victory 
 gained over the MaHgnants, to permit them, even in 
 their triumph, to hear it without emotion. There was 
 a sort of pause, of which the party themselves seemed 
 rather ashamed, until the silence was broken by the 
 stout old knight. Sir Jasper Cranbourne, whose gal- 
 lantry was so universally acknowledged that he could 
 afford, if we may use such an expression, to confess emo- 
 tions which men whose courage was in any respect 
 Hable to suspicion would have thought it imprudent to 
 acknowledge. 
 
 '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 
 they trowled us down Hke 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 
 battle, 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 king's 
 peace; and lastly, Dick, because, if we did set on the 
 
 27 49
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 psalm-singing knaves, thou mightest come by the worst, 
 my boy, as has chanced to thee before.' 
 
 ' Who, I, Sir Jasper ! ' answered Dick — ' I come by 
 the worst! I'll 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 the reason, I fancy,' answered Sir Jasper, 
 ' that you, to mend the matter, scrambled into the hedge 
 and stuck there, horse and man, till I beat thee through 
 it with my leading-staff; and then, instead of charging 
 to the front, you went right-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 
 ton^e in his head than mettle in his bosom. And this 
 sort of rallying on the part of the knight having for- 
 tunately abated the resentment which had begun to 
 awaken in the breasts of the Royalist cavalcade, further 
 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 of the castle by their victori- 
 ous 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 grey and sohd massiveness of the towers and 
 curtains which yet stood uninjured, to remind them of 
 their victory over the stronghold of their enemies, and 
 
 5<^
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 how they had bound nobles and princes with fetters of 
 iron. 
 
 But feelings more suitable to the purpose of their visit 
 to Martindale 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, ap- 
 peared at the top of the breach with her principal female 
 attendants, to receive her guests with the honour and 
 courtesy becoming her invitation. She had laid aside 
 the black dress which had been her sole attire for several 
 years, and was arrayed with a splendour not unbecom- 
 ing her high descent and quality. 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 preser- 
 vation 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. 
 
 If even the inferior persons of the party felt the heal- 
 ing influence of her presence, thus accompanied, poor 
 Bridgenorth was almost overwhelmed with it. The 
 strictness of his cast and manners permitted him not to 
 sink on his knee and kiss the hand which held his Httle 
 orphan; but the deepness of his obeisance, the faltering 
 tremor of his voice, and the glistening of his eye, showed 
 a grateful respect for the lady whom he addressed, 
 deeper and more reverential than could have been ex- 
 
 51
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 pressed 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 inquiries, addressed to the principal individuals 
 among her guests, concerning their families and con- 
 nexions, completed her triumph over angry thoughts 
 and dangerous recollections, and disposed men's bosoms 
 to sympathise with the purposes of the meeting. 
 
 Even Solsgrace himself, although imagining himself 
 bound by his office and duty to watch over and counter- 
 act the wiles of the ' Amalekitish woman,' did not escape 
 the sympathetic infection; being so much struck with 
 the marks of peace and good-will exhibited by Lady 
 Peveril that he immediately raised the psalm, — 
 
 *0 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 re- 
 paid, the Lady Peveril marshalled in person this party 
 of her guests to the apartment where ample good cheer 
 was provided for them; and had even the patience to 
 remain while Master Nehemiah Solsgrace pronounced 
 a benediction of portentous length as an introduction 
 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 rounding it off by his 
 usual alliterative petition for deliverance from Popery, 
 Prelacy, and Peveril of the Peak, which had become so 
 habitual to him that, after various attempts to conclude 
 with some other form of words, he found himself at last 
 
 52
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 obliged to pronounce the first words of his usual formula 
 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 prior attentions which she had 
 thought it prudent to offer to the Puritans. 
 
 These apprehensions were not altogether ill-founded. 
 It was in vain that the steward had displayed the royal 
 standard, with its proud motto of Tandem Triumphans, 
 on one of the great towers, 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 his 
 clamorous * Welcome, noble Cavaliers ! — welcome, gen- 
 erous gentlemen ! ' There was a slight murmur amongst 
 them that their welcome ought to have come from the 
 mouth of the colonel's 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 con- 
 ducting the guests to the banqueting-apartment, where 
 a fortunate diversion from all these topics of rising dis- 
 content might be made, at the expense of the good cheer 
 
 S3
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of all sorts which the lady's care had so liberally pro- 
 vided. 
 
 The stratagem of the old soldier succeeded in its 
 utmost extent. He assumed the great oaken chair usu- 
 ally occupied by the steward at his audits; and Dr. 
 Dummerar having pronounced a brief Latin benedic- 
 tion, 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 to his Majesty's health, filled as high and 
 as deep as their goblets would permit. In a moment all 
 was bustle with the clang of wine-cups and of flagons. 
 In another moment the guests were on their feet like so 
 many statues, all hushed as death, but with eyes glanc- 
 ing with expectation, and hands outstretched, 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 boughs and flowers with which they 
 were decorated waved wildly and rustled as if agitated 
 by a sudden whirlwind. This rite observed, the company 
 proceeded to assail the good cheer with which the table 
 groaned, animated as they were to the attack both by 
 mirth and melody, for they were attended by all the 
 minstrels of the district, who, like the Episcopal clergy, 
 had been put to silence during the reign of the self- 
 entitled saints of the Commonwealth. The social occu- 
 
 54
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 pation of good eating and drinking, the exchange of 
 pledges betwixt old neighbours who had been fellow- 
 soldiers in the moment of resistance, fellow-sufferers in 
 the time of depression and subjugation, and were now 
 partners in the same general subject of congratulation, 
 soon wiped from their memory the trifling cause of com- 
 plaint which in the minds of some had darkened the 
 festivity of the day; so that when the Lady Peveril 
 walked into the hall, accompanied as before with the 
 children and her female attendants, she was welcomed 
 with the acclamations due to the mistress of the ban- 
 quet and of the castle — the dame of the noble knight 
 who had led most of them to battle with an undaunted 
 and persevering valour which was worthy of better 
 success. 
 
 Her address to them was brief and matronly, yet 
 spoken with so much feeling as found its way to every 
 bosom. She apologised for the lateness of her personal 
 welcome, by reminding them that there were then pre- 
 sent in Martindale Castle that day persons whom recent 
 happy events had converted from enemies into friends, 
 but on whom the latter character was so recently im- 
 posed that she dared not neglect with them any point 
 of ceremonial. But those whom she now addressed were 
 the best, the dearest, the most faithful friends of her 
 husband's house, to whom and to their valour Peveril 
 had not only owed those successes which had given them 
 and him fame during the late unhappy times, but to 
 whose courage she in particular had owed the preserva- 
 tion of their leader's life, even when it could not avert 
 defeat. A word or two of heartfelt congratulation on the 
 happy restoration of the royal line and authority com- 
 
 55
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 pleted all which she had boldness to add, and, bowing 
 gracefully round her, she lifted a cup to her lips as if to 
 welcome her guests. 
 
 There still remained, and especially amongst the old 
 Cavaliers of the period, some glimmering of that spirit 
 which inspired Froissart, when he declares that a knight 
 hath double courage at need when animated by the 
 looks and words of a beautiful and virtuous woman. It 
 was not until the reign which was commencing at the 
 moment we are treating of, that the unbounded license 
 of the age, introducing a general course of profligacy, 
 degraded the female sex into mere servants of pleasure, 
 and, in so doing, deprived society of that noble tone of 
 feehng towards the sex which, considered as a spur to 
 'raise the clear spirit,' is superior to every other impulse 
 save those of religion and of patriotism. The beams of 
 the ancient hall of Martindale Castle instantly rung 
 with a shout louder and shriller than that at which they 
 had so lately trembled, and the names of the knight of 
 the Peak and his lady were proclaimed amid waving of 
 caps and hats, and universal wishes for their health and 
 happiness. 
 
 Under these auspices the Lady Peveril ghded from the 
 hall, and left free space for the revelry of the evening. 
 
 That of the Cavaliers may be easily conceived, since 
 it had the usual accompaniments of singing, jesting, 
 quaffing of healths, and playing of tunes, which have in 
 almost every age and quarter of the world been the 
 accompaniments of festive cheer. The enjo3anents of 
 the Puritans were of a different and less noisy character. 
 They neither sung, jested, heard music, nor drank 
 healths; and yet they seemed not the less, in their own 
 
 56
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 phrase, to enjoy the creature-comforts which the frailty 
 of humanity rendered grateful to their outward man. 
 Old Whitaker even protested that, though much the 
 smaller party in point of numbers, they discussed nearly 
 as much sack and claret as his own more jovial associ- 
 ates. But those who considered the steward's preju- 
 dices were inclined to think that, in order to produce 
 such a result, he must have thrown in his own by- 
 drinkings — no inconsiderable item — to the sum total 
 of the Presbyterian potations. 
 
 Without adopting such a partial and scandalous re- 
 port, we shall only say, that on this occasion, as on most 
 others, the rareness of indulgence promoted the sense of 
 enjoyment, and that those who made abstinence, or at 
 least moderation, a point of religious principle, enjoyed 
 their social meeting the better that such opportunities 
 rarely presented themselves. If they did not actually 
 drink each other's healths, they at least showed, by 
 looking and nodding to each other as they raised their 
 glasses, that they all were sharing the same festive grati- 
 fication of the appetite, and felt it enhanced, because it 
 was at the same time enjoyed by their friends and neigh- 
 bours. Religion, as it was the principal topic of their 
 thoughts, became also the chief subject of their conver- 
 sation, and as they sat together in small separate knots, 
 they discussed doctrinal and metaphysical points of 
 belief, balanced the merits of various preachers, com- 
 pared the creeds of contending sects, and fortified by 
 Scriptural quotations those which they favoured. Some 
 contests arose in the course of these debates, which 
 might have proceeded further than was seemly but for 
 the cautious interference of Major Bridgenorth. He 
 
 57
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 suppressed also, in the very bud, a dispute betwixt 
 Gaffer Hodgeson of Charnelycot and the Reverend Mr. 
 Solsgrace upon the tender subject of lay-preaching and 
 lay-ministering; nor did he think it altogether prudent 
 or decent to indulge the wishes of some of the warmer 
 enthusiasts of the party, who felt disposed to make the 
 rest partakers of their gifts in extemporaneous prayer 
 and exposition. These were absurdities that belonged 
 to the time, which, however, the major had sense enough 
 to perceive were unfitted, whether the offspring of 
 hypocrisy or enthusiasm, for the present time and place. 
 
 The major was also instrumental in breaking up the 
 party at an early and decorous hour, so that they left 
 the castle long before their rivals, the Cavaliers, had 
 reached the spring- tide of their merriment — an arrange- 
 ment which afforded the greatest satisfaction to the 
 lady, who dreaded the consequences which might not 
 improbably have taken place had both parties met at 
 the same period and point of retreat. 
 
 It was near midnight ere the greater part of the Cava- 
 liers, meaning such as were able to effect their departure 
 without assistance, withdrew to the village of Martin- 
 dale-Moultrassie, with the benefit of the broad moon to 
 prevent the chance of accidents. Their shouts, and the 
 burden of their roaring chorus of — • 
 
 'The King shall enjoy his own again,' 
 
 were heard with no small pleasure by the lady, heartily 
 glad that the riot of the day was over without the occur- 
 rence of any unpleasing accident. The rejoicing was not, 
 however, entirely ended; for the elevated Cavaliers, 
 finding some of the villagers still on foot around a bon- 
 
 S8
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 fire on the street, struck merrily in with them, sent to 
 Roger Raine, of the Peveril Arms, the loyal publican 
 whom we have already mentioned, for two tubs of merry 
 stingo, as it was termed, and lent their own powerful 
 assistance at the 'dusting' it off to the health of the 
 King and the loyal General Monk. Their shouts for a 
 long time disturbed, and even alarmed, the little village; 
 but no enthusiasm is able to withstand for ever the 
 natural consequences of late hours and potations pottle- 
 deep. The tumult of the exulting Royalists at last sunk 
 into silence, and the moon and the owl were left in un- 
 disturbed sovereignty over the old tower of the village 
 church, which, rising white above a circle of knotty oaks, 
 was tenanted by the bird and silvered by the planet.^ 
 * See Note i.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 T was when they raised, 'mid sap and siege, 
 The banners of their rightful liege, 
 
 At their she-captain's call, 
 Who, miracle of womankind! 
 Lent mettle to the meanest hind 
 
 That mann'd her castle wall. 
 
 William S. Rose. 
 
 On the morning succeeding the feast, the Lady Peveril, 
 fatigued with the exertions and the apprehensions of 
 the former day, kept her apartment for two or three 
 hours later than her own active habits and the matutinal 
 custom of the time rendered usual. Meanwhile, Mistress 
 Ellesmere, a person of great trust in the family, and who 
 assumed much authority in her mistress's absence, laid 
 her orders upon Deborah, the governante, immediately 
 to carry the children to their airing in the park, and not 
 to let any one enter the gilded chamber, which was usu- 
 ally their sporting-place. Deborah, who often rebelled, 
 and sometimes successfully, against the deputed author- 
 ity of Ellesmere, privately resolved that it was about to 
 rain, and that the gilded chamber was a more suitable 
 place for the children's exercise than the wet grass of the 
 park on a raw morning. 
 
 But a woman's brain is sometimes as inconstant as a 
 popular assembly; and presently after she had voted 
 the morning was like to be rainy, and that the gilded 
 chamber was the fittest play-room for the children. Mis- 
 tress Deborah came to the somewhat inconsistent reso- 
 lution that the park was the fittest place for her own 
 
 60
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 morning walk. It is certain that, during the unrestrained 
 joviality of the preceding evening, she had danced till 
 midnight with Lance Outram, the park-keeper; but how 
 far the seeing him just pass the window in his woodland 
 trim, with a feather in his hat and a cross-bow under his 
 arm, influenced the discrepancy of the opinions Mrs. 
 Deborah formed concerning the weather, we are far from 
 presuming to guess. It is enough for us that, so soon as 
 Mistress Ellesmere's back was turned, Mistress Deborah 
 carried the children into the gilded chamber, not without 
 a strict charge (for we must do her justice) to Master 
 Julian to take care of his Httle wife. Mistress Alice; and 
 then, having taken so satisfactory a precaution, she 
 herself glided into the park by the glass-door of the still- 
 room, which was nearly opposite to the great breach. 
 
 The gilded chamber in which the children were, 
 by this arrangement, left to amuse themselves, with- 
 out better guardianship than what Julian's manhood 
 afforded, was a large apartment, hung with stamped 
 Spanish leather, curiously gilded, representing, in a 
 manner now obsolete, but far from unpleasing, a series 
 of tilts and combats betwixt the Saracens of Grenada 
 and the Spaniards under the command of King Ferdi- 
 nand and Queen Isabella, during that memorable siege 
 which was terminated by the overthrow of the last frag- 
 ments of the Moorish empire in Spain, 
 
 The little Julian was careering about the room for the 
 amusement of his infant friend, as well as his own, 
 mimicking with a reed the menacing attitude of the 
 Abencerrages and Zegris engaged in the Eastern sport of 
 hurling the ' jerid,' or javelin; and at times sitting down 
 beside her, and caressing her into silence and good- 
 
 6i
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 humour, when the petulant or timid child chose to be- 
 come tired of remaining an inactive spectator of his 
 boisterous sport; when, on a sudden, he observed one of 
 the panelled compartments of the leather hangings slide 
 apart, so as to show a fair hand, with its fingers resting 
 upon its edge, prepared, it would seem, to push it still 
 farther back. Julian was much surprised, and some- 
 what frightened, at what he witnessed, for the tales of 
 the nursery had strongly impressed on his mind the 
 terrors of the invisible world. Yet, naturally bold and 
 high-spirited, the little champion placed himself beside 
 his defenceless sister, continuing to brandish his weapon 
 in her defence as boldly as if he had himself been an 
 Abencerrage of Grenada. 
 
 The panel, on which his eye was fixed, gradually con- 
 tinued to slide back, and display more and more the 
 form to which the hand appertained, until, in the dark 
 aperture which was disclosed, the children saw the 
 figure of a lady in a mourning dress, past the meridian 
 of life, but whose countenance still retained traces of 
 great beauty, although the predominant character both 
 of her features and person was an air of almost royal 
 dignity. After pausing a moment on the threshold of 
 the portal which she had thus unexpectedly disclosed, 
 and looking with some surprise at the children, whom 
 she had not probably observed while engaged with the 
 management of the panel, the stranger stepped into the 
 apartment, and the panel, upon a touch of a spring, 
 closed behind her so suddenly that Julian almost 
 doubted it had ever been open, and began to apprehend 
 that the whole apparition had been a delusion.^ 
 
 ' See Note 2. 
 62
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 The stately lady, however, advanced to him, and said, 
 'Are not you the little Peveril?' 
 
 'Yes,' said the boy, reddening, not altogether without 
 a juvenile feeling of that rule of chivalry which forbade 
 any one to disown his name, whatever danger might be 
 annexed to the avowal of it. 
 
 'Then,' said the stately stranger, *go to your mother's 
 room and tell her to come instantly to speak with me.' 
 
 'I wo'not,' said the little Julian. 
 
 'How!' said the lady, 'so young and so disobedient! 
 but you do but follow the fashion of the time. Why will 
 you not go, my pretty boy, when I ask it of you as a 
 favour? ' 
 
 'I would go, madam,' said the boy, 'but — ,' and he 
 stopped short, still drawing back as the lady advanced 
 on him, but still holding by the hand Ahce Bridgenorth, 
 who, too young to understand the nature of the dialogue, 
 clung, trembhng, to her companion. 
 
 The stranger saw his embarrassment, smiled, and re- 
 mained standing fast, while she asked the child once 
 more, 'What are you afraid of, my brave boy; and why 
 should you not go to your mother on my errand? ' 
 
 'Because,' answered Julian, firmly, 'if I go, httle AHce 
 must stay alone with you.' 
 
 'You are a gallant fellow,' said the lady, 'and will not 
 disgrace your blood, which never left the weak without 
 protection.' 
 
 The boy understood her not, and still gazed with 
 anxious apprehension, first on her who addressed him, 
 and then upon his little companion, whose eyes, with the 
 vacant glance of infancy, wandered from the figure of 
 the lady to that of her companion and protector, and at 
 
 63
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 length, infected by a portion of the fear which the latter's 
 magnanimous efforts could not entirely conceal, she flew 
 into Julian's arms, and, clinging to him, greatly aug- 
 mented his alarm, and, by screaming aloud, rendered it 
 very difficult for him to avoid the sympathetic fear 
 which impelled him to do the same. 
 
 There was something in the manner and bearing of 
 this unexpected inmate which might justify awe at least, 
 if not fear, when joined to the singular and mysterious 
 mode in which she had made her appearance. Her dress 
 was not remarkable, being the hood and female riding- 
 attire of the time, such as was worn by the inferior class 
 of gentlewomen ; but her black hair was very long, and 
 several locks, having escaped from under her hood, hung 
 down dishevelled on her neck and shoulders. Her eyes 
 were deep black, keen, and piercing, and her features had 
 something of a foreign expression. When she spoke, her 
 language was marked by a slight foreign accent, although 
 in construction it was pure Enghsh. Her slightest tone 
 and gesture had the air of one accustomed to command 
 and to be obeyed ; the recollection of which probably sug- 
 gested to Julian the apology he afterwards made for being 
 frightened, that he took the stranger for an 'enchanted 
 queen.' 
 
 While the stranger lady and the children thus con- 
 fronted each other, two persons entered almost at the 
 same instant, but from different doors, whose haste 
 showed that they had been alarmed by the screams of 
 the latter. 
 
 The first was Major Bridgenorth, whose ears had been 
 alarmed with the cries of his child as he entered the hall, 
 which corresponded with what was called the gilded 
 
 64
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 chamber. His intention had been to remain in the more 
 public apartment until the Lady Peveril should make 
 her appearance, with the good-natured purpose of assur- 
 ing her that the preceding day of tumult had passed in 
 every respect agreeably to his friends, and without any 
 of those alarming consequences which might have been 
 apprehended from a collision betwixt the parties. But 
 when it is considered how severely he had been agitated 
 by apprehensions for his child's safety and health, too 
 well justified by the fate of those who had preceded her, 
 it will not be thought surprising that the infantine 
 screams of Alice induced him to break through the bar- 
 riers of form, and intrude farther into the interior of the 
 house than a sense of strict propriety might have war- 
 ranted. 
 
 He burst into the gilded chamber, therefore, by a side 
 door and narrow passage, which communicated betwixt 
 that apartment and the hall, and, snatching the child up 
 in his arms, endeavoured by a thousand caresses to stifle 
 the screams which burst yet more violently from the 
 little girl on beholding herself in the arms of one to whose 
 voice and manner she was, but for one brief interview, 
 an entire stranger. 
 
 Of course, Alice's shrieks were redoubled, and seconded 
 by those of Julian Peveril, who, on the appearance of 
 this second intruder, was frightened into resignation of 
 every more manly idea of rescue than that which con- 
 sisted in invoking assistance at the very top of his 
 lungs. 
 
 Alarmed by this noise, which in half a minute became 
 very clamorous. Lady Peveril, with whose apartment the 
 gilded chamber was connected by a private door of com- 
 27 65
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 munication opening into her wardrobe, entered on the 
 scene. The instant she appeared, the Httle Alice, extri- 
 cating herself from the grasp of her father, ran towards 
 her protectress, and when she had once taken hold of her 
 skirts, not only became silent, but turned her large blue 
 eyes, in which the tears were still glistening, with a look 
 of wonder rather than alarm towards the strange lady. 
 Julian manfully brandished his reed, a weapon which he 
 had never parted with during the whole alarm, and stood 
 prepared to assist his mother if there should be danger 
 in the encounter betwixt her and the stranger. 
 
 In fact, it might have puzzled an older person to ac- 
 count for the sudden and confused pause which the Lady 
 Peveril made as she gazed on her unexpected guest, as 
 if dubious whether she did or did not recognize in her 
 still beautiful, though wasted and emaciated, features a 
 countenance which she had known well under far differ- 
 ent circumstances. 
 
 The stranger seemed to understand her cause of hesi- 
 tation, for she said in that heart-thrilling voice which 
 was peculiarly her own — 'Time and misfortune have 
 changed me much, Margaret, that every mirror tells 
 me; yet methinks Margaret Stanley might still have 
 known Charlotte de la Tremouille.' 
 
 The Lady Peveril was Httle in the custom of giving 
 way to sudden emotion, but in the present case she 
 threw herself on her knees in a rapture of mingled joy 
 and grief, and, half embracing those of the stranger, ex- 
 claimed in broken language — 'My kind, my noble 
 benefactress — the princely Countess of Derby — the 
 royal Queen in Man — could I doubt your voice, your 
 features, for a moment. O, forgive — forgive me ! ' 
 
 66
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 The countess raised the suppliant kinswoman of her 
 husband's house with all the grace of one accustomed 
 from early birth to receive homage and to grant protec- 
 tion. She kissed the Lady Peveril's forehead, and passed 
 her hand in a caressing manner over her face as she 
 said — 'You too are changed, my fair cousin, but it is 
 a change becomes you, from a pretty and timid maiden 
 to a sage and comely matron. But my own memory, 
 which I once held a good one, has failed me strangely if 
 this gentleman be Sir Geoffrey Peveril.' 
 
 * A kind and good neighbour only, madam,' said Lady 
 Peveril; 'Sir Geoffrey is at court.' 
 
 *I understood so much,' said the Countess of Derby, 
 'when I arrived here last night.' 
 
 'How, madam!' said Lady Peveril. 'Did you arrive 
 at Martindale Castle — at the house of Margaret Stan- 
 ley, where you have such right to command, and did not 
 announce your presence to her? ' 
 
 'O, I know you are a dutiful subject, Margaret,' an- 
 swered the countess, ' though it be in these days a rare 
 character; but it was our pleasure,' she added with a 
 smile, 'to travel incognito; and finding you engaged in 
 general hospitality, we desired not to disturb you with 
 our royal presence.' 
 
 'But how and where were you lodged, madam?' said 
 Lady Peveril; 'or why should you have kept secret a 
 visit which would, if made, have augmented tenfold the 
 happiness of every true heart that rejoiced here yester- 
 day?' 
 
 'My lodging was well cared for by Ellesmere — your 
 Ellesmere now, as she was formerly mine; she has acted 
 as quartermaster ere now, you know, and on a broader 
 
 67
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 scale. You must excuse her — she had my positive order 
 to lodge me in the most secret part of your castle (here 
 she pointed to the sliding panel) ; she obeyed orders in 
 that, and I suppose also in sending you now hither.' 
 
 'Indeed I have not yet seen her,' said the lady, 'and 
 therefore was totally ignorant of a visit so joyful, so sur- 
 prising.' 
 
 'And I,' said the countess, 'was equally surprised to 
 find none but these beautiful children in the apartment 
 where I thought I heard you moving. Our Ellesmere 
 has become silly ; your good-nature has spoiled her : she 
 has forgotten the discipline she learned under me.' 
 
 'I saw her run through the wood,' said the Lady 
 Peveril, after a moment's recollection, 'undoubtedly to 
 seek the person who has charge of the children, in order 
 to remove them.' 
 
 'Your own darlings, I doubt not,' said the countess, 
 looking at the children. 'Margaret, Providence has 
 blessed you.' 
 
 'That is my son,' said Lady Peveril, pointing to Ju- 
 lian, who stood devouring their discourse with greedy 
 ear; 'the little girl — I may call mine too.' 
 
 Major Bridgenorth, who had in the meantime again 
 taken up his infant, and was engaged in caressing it, set 
 it down as the Countess of Derby spoke, sighed deeply, 
 and walked towards the oriel window. He was well 
 aware that the ordinary' rules of courtesy would have 
 rendered it proper that he should withdraw entirely, or 
 at least offer to do so ; but he was not a man of ceremo- 
 nious politeness, and he had a particular interest in the 
 subjects on which the countess's discourse was likely to 
 turn, which induced him to dispense with ceremony. 
 
 68
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 The ladies seemed indeed scarce to notice his presence. 
 The countess had now assumed a chair, and motioned 
 to the Lady Peveril to sit upon a stool which was placed 
 by her side. ' We will have old times once more, though 
 there are here no roaring of rebel guns to drive you to 
 take refuge at my side, and almost in my pocket.' 
 
 *I have a gun, madam,' said little Julian, 'and the 
 park-keeper is to teach me how to fire it next year.' 
 
 * I will list you for my soldier, then,' said the countess. 
 'Ladies have no soldiers,' said the boy, looking wist- 
 fully at her. 
 
 'He has the true masculine contempt of our frail sex, 
 I see,' said the countess; 'it is born with the insolent 
 varlets of mankind, and shows itself so soon as they are 
 out of their long clothes. Did Ellesmere never tell you 
 of Latham House and Charlotte of Derby, my Uttle 
 master?' 
 
 * A thousand, thousand times,' said the boy, colouring; 
 * and how the Queen of Man defended it six weeks against 
 three thousand Roundheads, under Rogue Harrison, 
 the butcher.' 
 
 'It was your mother defended Latham House,' said 
 the countess, 'not I, my Uttle soldier. Hadst thou been 
 there, thou hadst been the best captain of the three.' 
 
 'Do not say so, madam,' said the boy, 'for mamma 
 would not touch a gun for all the universe.' 
 
 'Not I, indeed, Julian,' said his mother; 'there I was 
 for certain, but as useless a part of the garrison — ' 
 
 'You forget,' said the countess, 'you nursed our hos- 
 pital, and made lint for the soldiers' wounds.' 
 
 'But did not papa come to help you? ' said Julian. 
 
 'Papa came at last,' said the countess, 'and so did 
 
 69
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Prince Rupert; but not, I think, till they were both 
 heartily wished for. Do you remember that morning, 
 Margaret, when the Roundheaded knaves, that kept us 
 pent up so long, retreated without bag or baggage, at the 
 first glance of the Prince's standards appearing on the 
 hill; and how you took every high-crested captain you 
 saw for Peveril of the Peak, that had been your partner 
 three months before at the queen's mask? Nay, never 
 blush for the thought of it — it was an honest affection; 
 and though it was the music of trumpets that accom- 
 panied you both to the old chapel, which was almost 
 entirely ruined by the enemy's bullets, and though Prince 
 Rupert, when he gave you away at the altar, was clad 
 in buff and bandeHer, with pistols in his belt, yet I trust 
 these warUke signs were no type of future discord?' 
 
 'Heaven has been kind to me,' said Lady Peveril, 'in 
 blessing me with an affectionate husband.' 
 
 'And in preserving him to you,' said the countess, 
 with a deep sigh; 'while mine, alas! sealed with his blood 
 his devotion to his king.^ 0, had he lived to see this 
 day!' 
 
 'Alas! alas! that he was not permitted!' answered 
 Lady Peveril; 'how had that brave and noble earl re- 
 joiced in the unhoped-for redemption of our captivity!' 
 
 The countess looked on Lady Peveril with an air of 
 surprise. 
 
 ' Thou hast not then heard, cousin, how it stands with 
 our house? How indeed had my noble lord wondered, 
 had he been told that the very monarch for whom he 
 had laid down his noble Hfe on the scaffold at Bolton- 
 
 ^ The Earl of Derby and King in Man was beheaded at Bolton-on- 
 the-Moors, after having been made prisoner in a previous skirmish in 
 Wiggan Lane. 
 
 70
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 le-Moor should make it his first act of restored monarchy 
 to complete the destruction of our property, already 
 wellnigh ruined in the royal cause, and to persecute me 
 his widow!' 
 
 'You astonish me, madam!' said the Lady Peveril. 
 'It cannot be that you — that you, the wife of the gal- 
 lant, the faithful, the murdered earl — you. Countess of 
 Derby and Queen in Man — you, who took on you even 
 the character of a soldier, and seemed a man when so 
 many men proved women — that you should sustain 
 evil from the event which has fulfilled — exceeded — • 
 the hopes of every faithful subject — it cannot be!' 
 
 * Thou art as simple, I see, in this world's knowledge 
 as ever, my fair cousin,' answered the countess. 'This 
 restoration, which has given others security, has placed 
 me in danger; this change, which reheved other Royal- 
 ists — scarce less zealous, I presume to think, than I — 
 has sent me here a fugitive, and in concealment, to beg 
 shelter and assistance from you, fair cousin.' 
 
 'From me,' answered the Lady Peveril — 'from me, 
 whose youth your kindness sheltered — from the wife 
 of Peveril, your gallant lord's companion in arms — you 
 have a right to command everything; but, alas! that 
 you should need such assistance as I can render ! Forgive 
 me, but it seems like some ill-omened vision of the night : 
 I listen to your words as if I hoped to be reheved from 
 their painful import by awaking.' 
 
 'It is indeed a dream — a vision,' said the Countess 
 of Derby; 'but it needs no seer to read it: the explana- 
 tion hath been long since given — " Put not your faith 
 in princes." I can soon remove your surprise. This 
 gentleman, your friend, is doubtless honest?' 
 
 71
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The Lady Peveril well knew that the Cavaliers, like 
 other factions, usurped to themselves the exclusive de- 
 nomination of the honest party, and she felt some diffi- 
 culty in explaining that her visitor was not honest in 
 that sense of the word. 
 
 'Had we not better retire, madam?' she said to the 
 countess, rising, as if in order to attend her. 
 
 But the countess retained her seat. *It was but a 
 question of habit,' she said; 'the gentleman's principles 
 are nothing to me, for what I have to tell you is widely 
 blazed, and I care not who hears my share of it. You 
 remember — you must have heard, for I think Mar- 
 garet Stanley would not be indifferent to my fate — 
 that, after my husband's murder at Bolton, I took up 
 the standard which he never dropped until his death, 
 and displayed it with my own hand in our sovereignty 
 of Man.' 
 
 'I did indeed hear so, madam,' said the Lady Pev- 
 eril; 'and that you had bidden a bold defiance to the 
 rebel government, even after all other parts of Britain 
 had submitted to them. My husband. Sir Geoffrey, de- 
 signed at one time to have gone to your assistance with 
 some few followers; but we learned that the island was 
 rendered to the Parliament party, and that you, dearest 
 lady, were thrown into prison.' 
 
 'But you heard not,' said the countess, 'how that dis- 
 aster befell me. Margaret, I would have held out that 
 island against the knaves as long as the sea continued to 
 flow around it. Till the shoals which surround it had 
 become safe anchorage — till its precipices had melted 
 beneath the sunshine — till of all its strong abodes and 
 castles not one stone remained upon another, would 
 
 72
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 I have defended against these villainous, hypocritical 
 rebels my dear husband's hereditary dominion. The little 
 kingdom of Man should have been yielded only when 
 not an arm was left to wield a sword, not a finger to draw 
 a trigger, in its defence. But teachery did what force 
 could never have done. When we had foiled various 
 attempts upon the island by open force, treason ac- 
 compHshed what Blake and Lawson, with their floating 
 castles, had found too hazardous an enterprise: a base 
 rebel, whom we had nursed in our own bosoms, betrayed 
 us to the enemy. This wretch was named Christian — ' 
 
 Major Bridgenorth started and turned towards the 
 speaker, but instantly seemed to recollect himself, and 
 again averted his face. The countess proceeded, without 
 noticing the interruption, which, however, rather sur- 
 prised Lady Peveril, who was acquainted with her neigh- 
 bour's general habits of indifference and apathy, and 
 therefore the more surprised at his testifying such sud- 
 den symptoms of interest. She would once again have 
 moved the countess to retire to another apartment, but 
 Lady Derby proceeded with too much vehemence to 
 endure interruption. 
 
 'This Christian,' she said, 'had eat of my lord his 
 sovereign's bread, and drunk of his cup, even from child- 
 hood; for his fathers had been faithful servants to 
 the house of Man and Derby. He himself had fought 
 bravely by my husband's side, and enjoyed all his con- 
 fidence; and when my princely earl was martyred by 
 the rebels, he recommended to me, amongst other in- 
 structions communicated in the last message I received 
 from him, to continue my confidence in Christian's 
 fidelity. I obeyed, although I never loved the man. He 
 
 73
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 was cold and phlegmatic, and utterly devoid of that 
 sacred fire which is the incentive to noble deeds, sus- 
 pected too of leaning to the cold metaphysics of Calvin- 
 istic subtilty. But he was brave, wise, and experienced, 
 and, as the event proved, possessed but too much inter- 
 est with the islanders. When these rude people saw them- 
 selves without hope of relief, and pressed by a blockade, 
 which brought want and disease into their island, they 
 began to fall off from the faith which they had hitherto 
 shown.' 
 
 'What!' said the Lady Peveril, 'could they forget 
 what was due to the widow of their benefactor, she who 
 had shared with the generous Derby the task of better- 
 ing their condition? ' 
 
 *Do not blame them,' said the countess; 'the rude 
 herd acted but according to their kind: in present dis- 
 tress they forgot former benefits, and, nursed in their 
 earthen hovels, with spirits suited to their dwelHngs, 
 they were incapable of feeling the glory which is at- 
 tached to constancy in suffering. But that Christian 
 should have headed their revolt — that he, born a 
 gentleman, and bred under my murdered Derby's own 
 care in all that was chivalrous and noble — that he 
 should have forgot a hundred benefits — why do I talk 
 of benefits? — that he should have forgotten that kindly 
 intercourse which binds man to man far more than the 
 reciprocity of obligation — that he should have headed 
 the ruffians who broke suddenly into my apartment, 
 immured me with my infants in one of my own castles, 
 and assumed or usurped the tyranny of the island — 
 that this should have been done by William Christian, 
 my vassal, my servant, my friend, was a deed of un- 
 
 74
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 grateful treachery which even this age of treason will 
 scarcely parallel ! ' 
 
 'And you were then imprisoned,' said the Lady 
 Peveril, ' and in your own sovereignty ! ' 
 
 'For more than seven years I have endured strict 
 captivity/ said the countess. 'I was indeed offered my 
 liberty, and even some means of support, if I would 
 have consented to leave the island, and pledge my word 
 that I would not endeavour to repossess my son in his 
 father's rights. But they Httle knew the princely house 
 from which I spring, and as little the royal house of 
 Stanley which I uphold, who hoped to humble Charlotte 
 of Tremouille into so base a composition. I would 
 rather have starved in the darkest and lowest vault 
 of Rushin Castle than have consented to aught which 
 might diminish in one hair's breadth the right of my 
 son over his father's sovereignty.' 
 
 'And could not your firmness, in a case where hope 
 seemed lost, induce them to be generous, and dismiss 
 you without conditions? ' 
 
 'They knew me better than thou dost, wench,' an- 
 swered the countess; 'once at liberty, I had not been 
 long without the means of disturbing their usurpation, 
 and Christian would have as soon uncaged a lioness to 
 combat with as have given me the slightest power of 
 returning to the struggle with him. But time had lib- 
 erty and revenge in store — I had still friends and parti- 
 zans in the island, though they were compelled to give 
 way to the storm. Even among the islanders at large, 
 most had been disappointed in the effects which they 
 expected from the change of power. They were loaded 
 with exactions by their new masters, their privileges 
 
 75
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 were abridged, and their immunities abolished, under 
 the pretext of reducing them to the same condition with 
 the other subjects of the pretended republic. When the 
 news arrived of the changes which were current in Brit- 
 ain, these sentiments were privately communicated to 
 me. Calcott and others acted with great zeal and fidel- 
 ity; and a rising, effected as suddenly and efifectually 
 as that which had made me a captive, placed me at 
 liberty and in possession of the sovereignty of Man, as 
 regent for my son, the youthful Earl of Derby. Do you 
 think I enjoyed that sovereignty long without doing 
 justice on that traitor Christian? ' 
 
 'How, madam?' said Lady Peveril, who, though she 
 knew the high and ambitious spirit of the countess, 
 scarce anticipated the extremities to which it was cap- 
 able of hurrjdng her. 'Have you imprisoned Chris- 
 tian?' 
 
 *Ay, wench, in that sure prison which felon never 
 breaks from,' answered the countess. 
 
 Bridgenorth, who had insensibly approached them, 
 and was listening with an agony of interest which he 
 was unable any longer to suppress, broke in with the 
 stern exclamation — 'Lady, I trust you have not 
 dared — ' 
 
 The countess interrupted him in her turn. *I know 
 not who you are who question, and you know not me 
 when you speak to me of that which I dare, or dare not, 
 do. But you seem interested in the fate of this Chris- 
 tian, and you shall hear it. I was no sooner placed in 
 possession of my rightful power than I ordered the 
 Dempster of the island to hold upon the traitor a High 
 Court of Justice, with all the formahties of the isle, as 
 
 76 .
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 prescribed in its oldest records. The court was held in 
 the open air, before the Dempster and the Keys of the 
 island, assembled under the vaulted cope of heaven, 
 and seated on the terrace of the Zonwald Hill, where of 
 old Druid and Scald held their courts of judgment. The 
 criminal was heard at length in his o^vn defence, which 
 amounted to little more than those specious allegations 
 of public consideration which are ever used to colour the 
 ugly front of treason. He was fully convicted of his 
 crime, and he received the doom of a traitor.' 
 
 'But which, I trust, is not yet executed?' said Lady 
 Peveril, not without an involuntary shudder. 
 
 'You are a fool, Margaret,' said the countess, sharply; 
 'think you I delayed such an act of justice until some 
 wretched intrigues of the new English court might have 
 prompted their interference? No, wench ; he passed from 
 the judgment-seat to the place of execution, with no 
 further delay than might be necessary for his soul's sake. 
 He was shot to death by a file of musketeers in the 
 common place of execution, called Hango Hill.'^ 
 
 Bridgenorth clasped his hands together, wrung them, 
 and groaned bitterly. 
 
 'As you seem interested for this criminal,' added the 
 countess, addressing Bridgenorth, ' I do him but justice 
 in reporting to you that his death was firm and manly, 
 becoming the general tenor of his Hfe, which, but for 
 that gross act of traitorous ingratitude, had been fair 
 and honourable. But what of that ? The hypocrite is a 
 saint, and the false traitor a man of honour, till oppor- 
 tunity, that faithful touchstone, proves their metal to 
 be base.' 
 
 * See Note 3. 
 
 77
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *It is false, woman — it is false!' said Bridgenorth, 
 no longer suppressing his indignation. 
 
 'What means this bearing, Master Bridgenorth?' said 
 Lady Peveril, much surprised. 'What is this Christian 
 to you, that you should insult the Countess of Derby 
 under my roof? ' 
 
 'Speak not to me of countesses and of ceremonies,' 
 said Bridgenorth; 'grief and anger leave me no leisure 
 for idle observances, to humour the vanity of overgrown 
 children. Oh, Christian, worthy — well worthy — of 
 the name thou didst bear! My friend — my brother — 
 the brother of my blessed Alice — the only friend of 
 my desolate estate ! art thou then cruelly murdered by 
 a female fury, who, but for thee, had deservedly paid 
 with her own blood that of God's saints, which she, as 
 well as her tyrant husband, had spilled like water! Yes, 
 cruel murderess!' he continued, addressing the countess, 
 ' he whom thou hast butchered in thy insane vengeance 
 sacrificed for many a year the dictates of his own con- 
 science to the interest of thy family, and did not desert 
 it till thy frantic zeal for royalty had wellnigh brought 
 to utter perdition the little community in which he was 
 bom. Even in confining thee, he acted but as the friends 
 of the madman, who bind him with iron for his own 
 preservation; and for thee, as I can bear witness, he was 
 the only barrier between thee and the wrath of the Com- 
 mons of England ; and but for his earnest remonstrances, 
 thou hadst suffered the penalty of thy malignancy, even 
 like the wicked wife of Ahab.' 
 
 'Master Bridgenorth,' said Lady Peveril, 'I will allo-w 
 for your impatience upon hearing these unpleasing tid- 
 ings; but there is neither use nor propriety in furthei 
 
 78
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 urging this question. If in your grief you forget other 
 restraints, I pray you to remember that the countess is 
 my guest and kinswoman, and is under such protection 
 as I can afford her. I beseech you, in simple courtesy, 
 to withdraw, as what must needs be the best and most 
 becoming course in these trying circumstances.' 
 
 'Nay, let him remain,' said the countess, regarding 
 him with composure, not unmingled with triumph; 'I 
 would not have it otherwise: I would not that my re- 
 venge should be summed up in the stinted gratification 
 which Christian's death hath afforded. This man's rude 
 and clamorous grief only proves that the retribution I 
 have dealt has been more widely felt than by the 
 wretched sufferer himself. I would I knew that it had 
 but made sore as many rebel hearts as there were loyal 
 breasts afflicted by the death of my princely Derby ! ' 
 
 'So please you, madam,' said Lady Peveril, 'since 
 Master Bridgenorth hath not the manners to leave us 
 upon my request, we will, if your ladyship lists, leave 
 him, and retire to my apartment. Farewell, Master 
 Bridgenorth; we will meet hereafter on better terms.' 
 
 'Pardon me, madam,' said the major, who had been 
 striding hastily through the room, but now stood fast 
 and drew himself up, as one who has taken a resolution 
 — ' to yourself I have nothing to say but what is respect- 
 ful; but to this woman I must speak as a magistrate. 
 She has confessed a murder in my presence — the mur- 
 der, too, of my brother-in-law — as a man and as a 
 magistrate I cannot permit her to pass from hence, 
 excepting under such custody as may prevent her farther 
 flight. She has already confessed that she is a fugitive, 
 and in search of a place of concealment, until she should 
 
 79
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 be able to escape into foreign parts. Charlotte, Countess 
 of Derby, I attach thee of the crime of which thou hast 
 but now made thy boast.' 
 
 'I shall not obey your arrest,' said the countess, com- 
 posedly; 'I was born to give, but not to receive, such 
 orders. What have your English laws to do with my 
 acts of justice and of government within my son's 
 hereditary kingdom? Am I not Queen in Man as well as 
 Countess of Derby? A feudatory sovereign indeed ; but 
 yet independent so long as my dues of homage are duly 
 discharged. What right can you assert over me? ' 
 
 'That given by the precept of Scripture,' answered 
 Bridgenorth — '"Whoso spilleth man's blood, by man 
 shall his blood be spilled." Think not that the barbarous 
 privileges of ancient feudal customs will avail to screen 
 you from the punishment due for an Englishman mur- 
 dered upon pretexts inconsistent with the Act of In- 
 demnity.' 
 
 'Master Bridgenorth,' said Lady Peveril, 'if by fair 
 terms you desist not from your present purpose, I tell 
 you that I neither dare nor will permit any violence 
 against this honourable lady within the walls of my 
 husband's castle.' 
 
 'You will find yourself unable to prevent me from 
 executing my duty, madam,' said Bridgenorth, whose 
 native obstinacy now came in aid of his grief and desire 
 of revenge; 'I am a magistrate, and act by authority.' 
 
 'I know not that,' said Lady Peveril. 'That you were 
 a magistrate. Master Bridgenorth, under the late usurp- 
 ing powers, I know well; but till I hear of your having a 
 commission in the name of the King, I now hesitate to 
 obey you as such.' 
 
 80
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'I shall stand on small ceremony,' said Bridgenorth. 
 'Were I no magistrate, every man has title to arrest for 
 murder against the terms of the indemnities held out by 
 the King's proclamations, and I will make my point 
 good.' 
 
 'What indemnities? What proclamations?' said the 
 Countess of Derby, indignantly. ' Charles Stuart may, 
 if he pleases, and it doth seem to please him, consort 
 with those whose hands have been red with the blood, 
 and blackened with the plunder, of his father and of his 
 loyal subjects. He may forgive them if he will, and 
 count their deeds good service. What has that to do 
 with this Christian's offence against me and mine? Born 
 a Manxman, bred and nursed in the island, he broke 
 the laws under which he lived, and died for the breach 
 of them, after the fair trial which they allowed. Me- 
 thinks, Margaret, we have enough of this peevish and 
 foolish magistrate; I attend you to your apartment.' 
 
 Major Bridgenorth placed himself betwixt them and 
 the door, in a manner which showed him determined to 
 interrupt their passage; when the Lady Peveril, who 
 thought she had already shown more deference to him 
 in this matter than her husband was likely to approve of, 
 raised her voice and called loudly on her steward, Whit- 
 aker. That alert person, who had heard high talking, 
 and a female voice with which he was unacquainted, 
 had remained for several minutes stationed in the ante- 
 room, much afflicted with the anxiety of his own curi- 
 osity. Of course he entered in an instant. 
 
 'Let three of the men instantly take arms,' said his 
 lady; 'bring them into the ante-room, and wait my 
 further orders.' 
 
 27
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 You shall have no worse prison than my chamber. 
 
 Nor jailer than myself. 
 
 The Captain. 
 
 The command which Lady Peveril laid on her domes- 
 tics to arm themselves was so unlike the usual gentle 
 acquiescence of her manners that Major Bridgenorth 
 was astonished. 'How mean you, madam?' said he; 'I 
 thought myself under a friendly roof.' 
 
 'And you are so, Master Bridgenorth/ said the Lady 
 Peveril, without departing from the natural calmness 
 of her voice and manner; 'but it is a roof which must 
 not be violated by the outrage of one friend against 
 another.' 
 
 'It is well, madam,' said Bridgenorth, turning to the 
 door of the apartment. ' The worthy Master Solsgrace 
 has already foretold that the time was returned when 
 high houses and proud names should be once more an 
 excuse for the crimes of those who inhabit the one and 
 bear the other. I believed him not, but now see he is 
 wiser than I. Yet think not I will endure this tamely. 
 The blood of my brother — of the friend of my bosom — 
 shall not long call from the altar, " How long, O Lord, 
 how long? " If there is one spark of justice left in this 
 unhappy England, that proud woman and I shall meet 
 where she can have no partial friend to protect her.' 
 
 So saying, he was about to leave the apartment, when 
 Lady Peveril said, 'You depart not from this place, 
 
 82
 
 PEVERH. OF THE PEAK 
 
 Master Bridgenorth, unless you give me your word to 
 renounce all purpose against the noble countess's liberty 
 upon the present occasion.' 
 
 'I would sooner,' answered he, 'subscribe to my own 
 dishonour, madam, written down in express words, than 
 to any such composition. If any man offers to interrupt 
 me, his blood be on his own head ! ' As Major Bridge- 
 north spoke, Whitaker threw open the door, and showed 
 that, with the alertness of an old soldier, who was not 
 displeased at seeing things tend once more towards a 
 state of warfare, he had got with him four stout fellows 
 in the knight of the Peak's livery, well armed with 
 swords and carabines, buff-coats, and pistols at their 
 girdles. 
 
 'I will see,' said Major Bridgenorth, 'if any of these 
 men be so desperate as to stop me, a free-born 
 Englishman and a magistrate, in the discharge of my 
 duty.' 
 
 So saying, he advanced upon Whitaker and his armed 
 assistants with his hand on the hilt of his sword. 
 
 'Do not be so desperate. Master Bridgenorth,' ex- 
 claimed Lady Peveril; and added in the same moment, 
 'Lay hold upon and disarm him, Whitaker, but do him 
 no injury.' 
 
 Her commands were obeyed. Bridgenorth, though a 
 man of moral resolution, was not one of those who un- 
 dertake to cope in person with odds of a description so 
 formidable. He half drew his sword, and offered such 
 show of resistance as made it necessary to secure him by 
 actual force; but then yielded up his weapon, and de- 
 clared that, submitting to force which one man was un- 
 able to resist, he made those who conmianded and who 
 
 83
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 employed it responsible for assailing his liberty without 
 a legal warrant. 
 
 'Never mind a warrant on a pinch, Master Bridge- 
 north,' said old Whitaker; 'sure enough you have often 
 acted upon a worse yourself. My lady's word is as good 
 a warrant, sure, as Old Noll's commission; and you bore 
 that many a day, Master Bridgenorth, and, moreover, 
 you laid me in the stocks for drinking the King's health, 
 Master Bridgenorth, and never cared a farthing about 
 the laws of England.' 
 
 'Hold your saucy tongue, Whitaker,' said the Lady 
 Peveril; 'and do you, Master Bridgenorth, not take it 
 to heart that you are detained prisoner for a few hours, 
 until the Countess of Derby can have nothing to fear 
 from your pursuit. I could easily send an escort with her 
 that might bid defiance to any force you could muster; 
 but I wish. Heaven knows, to bury the remembrance of 
 old civil dissensions, not to awaken new. Once more, 
 will you think better on it — assume your sword again, 
 and forget whom you have now seen at Martindale 
 Castle?' 
 
 'Never,' said Bridgenorth. 'The crime of this cruel 
 woman will be the last of human injuries which I can 
 forget. The last thought of earthly kind which will leave 
 me will be the desire that justice shall be done on her.' 
 
 'If such be your sentiments,' said Lady Peveril, 
 'though they are more allied to revenge than to justice, 
 I must provide for my friend's safety by putting restraint 
 upon your person. Li this room you will be supplied 
 with every necessity of life and every convenience ; and 
 a message shall relieve your domestics of the anxiety 
 which your absence from the hall is not unlikely to occa- 
 
 84
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 sion. When a few hours, at most two days, are over, 
 I will myself relieve you from confinement, and demand 
 your pardon for now acting as your obstinacy compels 
 me to do.' 
 
 The major made no answer, but that he was in her 
 hands, and must submit to her pleasure; and then turned 
 sullenly to the window, as if desirous to be rid of their 
 presence. 
 
 The countess and the Lady Peveril left the apartment 
 arm-in-arm ; and the lady issued forth her directions to 
 Whitaker concerning the mode in which she was desir- 
 ous that Bridgenorth should be guarded and treated 
 during his temporary confinement; at the same time ex- 
 plaining to him that the safety of the Countess of Derby 
 required that he should be closely watched. 
 
 In all proposals for the prisoner's security, such as the 
 regular relief of guards and the like, Whitaker joyfully 
 acquiesced, and undertook, body for body, that he 
 should be detained in captivity for the necessary period. 
 But the old steward was not half so docile when it came 
 to be considered how the captive's bedding and table 
 should be supplied; and he thought Lady Peveril dis- 
 played a very undue degree of attention to her prison- 
 er's comforts. *I warrant,' he said, 'that the cuckoldy 
 Roundhead ate enough of our fat beef yesterday to 
 serve him for a month ; and a Httle fasting will do his 
 health good. Marry, for drink he shall have plenty of 
 cold water to cool his hot liver, which, I will be bound, 
 is still hissing with the strong Hquors of yesterday. 
 And as for bedding, there are the fine dry boards, more 
 wholesome than the wet straw I lay upon when I was 
 in the stocks, I trow.' 
 
 8S
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *Whi taker,' said the lady, peremptorily, ' I desire you 
 to provide Master Bridgenorth's bedding and food in 
 the way I have already signified to you; and to behave 
 yourself towards him in all civiUty.' 
 
 'Lack-a-day! yes, my lady,' said Whi taker; 'you shall 
 have all your directions punctually obeyed; but, as an 
 old servant, I cannot but speak my mind.' 
 
 The ladies retired after this conference with the stew- 
 ard in the ante-chamber, and were soon seated in an- 
 other apartment, which was pecuHarly dedicated to the 
 use of the mistress of the mansion; having, on the one 
 side, access to the family bed-room, and on the other, 
 to the still-room, which communicated with the garden. 
 There was also a small door, which, ascending a few 
 steps, led to that balcony, already mentioned, that 
 overhung the kitchen ; and the same passage, by a separ- 
 ate door, admitted to the principal gallery in the chapel; 
 so that the spiritual and temporal affairs of the castle 
 were placed almost at once within reach of the same 
 regulating and directing eye.^ 
 
 In the tapestried room from which issued these vari- 
 ous sally-ports, the countess and Lady Peveril were 
 speedily seated ; and the former, smiling upon the latter, 
 said, as she took her hand, 'Two things have happened 
 to-day which might have surprised me, if anything 
 ought to surprise me in such times. The first is, that 
 yonder Roundheaded fellow should have dared to use 
 such insolence in the house of PeverU of the Peak. If 
 your husband is yet the same honest and downright 
 Cavaher whom I once knew, and had chanced to be at 
 home, he would have thrown the knave out of window. 
 ^ See Note 4. 
 86
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 But what I wonder at still more, Margaret, is your gen- 
 eralship. I hardly thought you had courage sufficient to 
 have taken such decided measures, after keeping on 
 terms with the man so long. When he spoke of justices 
 and warrants, you looked so overawed that I thought 
 I felt the clutch of the parish beadles on my shoulder to 
 drag me to prison as a vagrant.' 
 
 *We owe Master Bridgenorth some deference, my 
 dearest lady,' answered the Lady Peveril: *he has served 
 us often and kindly in these late times ; but neither he 
 nor any one else shall insult the Countess of Derby in 
 the house of Margaret Stanley.' 
 
 'Thou art become a perfect heroine, Margaret,' re- 
 plied the countess. 
 
 'Two sieges and alarms innumerable,' said Lady 
 Peveril, 'may have taught me presence of mind. My 
 courage is, I believe, as slender as ever.' 
 
 'Presence of mind is courage,' answered the countess. 
 'Real valour consists not in being insensible to danger, 
 but in being prompt to confront and disarm it; and we 
 may have present occasion for all that we possess,' she 
 added, with some slight emotion, 'for I hear the tramp- 
 ling of horses' steps on the pavement of the court.' 
 
 In one moment, the boy JuHan, breathless with joy, 
 came flying into the room, to say that papa was returned 
 with Lamington and Sam Brewer; and that he was him- 
 self to ride Black Hastings to the stable. In the second, 
 the tramp of the honest knight's heavy jack-boots was 
 heard, as, in his haste to see his lady, he ascended the 
 staircase by two steps at a time. He burst into the room, 
 his manly countenance and disordered dress showing 
 marks that he had been riding fast; and without looking 
 
 87
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to any one else, caught his good lady in his arms, and 
 kissed her a dozen of times. Blushing, and with some 
 difficulty, Lady Peveril extricated herself from Sir Geof- 
 frey's arms; and in a voice of bashful and gentle rebuke, 
 bid him, for shame, observe who was in the room. 
 
 'One,' said the countess, advancing to him, 'who is 
 right glad to see that Sir Geoffrey Peveril, though turned 
 courtier and favourite, still values the treasure which 
 she had some share in bestowing upon him. You can- 
 not have forgot the raising of the leaguer of Latham 
 House? ' 
 
 'The noble Countess of Derby!' said Sir Geoffrey, 
 doffing his plumed hat with an air of deep deference, and 
 kissing with much reverence the hand which she held out 
 to him. 'I am as glad to see your ladyship in my poor 
 house as I would be to hear that they had found a vein 
 of lead in the Brown Tor. I rode hard in the hope of be- 
 ing your escort through the country. I feared you might 
 have fallen into bad hands, hearing there was a knave 
 sent out with a warrant from the council.' 
 
 ' When heard you so? and from whom? ' 
 
 'It was from Cholmondley of Vale Royal,' said Sir 
 Geoffrey; 'he is come down to make provision for your 
 safety through Cheshire, and I promised to bring you 
 there in safety. Prince Rupert, Ormond, and other 
 friends do not doubt the matter will be driven to a fine ; 
 but they say the chancellor and Harry Bennet, and some 
 others of the over-sea counsellors, are furious at what 
 they call a breach of the King's proclamation. Hang 
 them, say I. They left us to bear all the beating, and 
 now they are incensed that we should wish to clear scores 
 with those who rode us like nightmares!'
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *What did they talk of for my chastisement? ' said the 
 countess. 
 
 *I wot not,' said Sir Geoffrey; 'some friends, as I said, 
 from our kind Cheshire, and others, tried to bring it to 
 a fine; but some, again, spoke of nothing but the Tower, 
 and a long imprisonment.' 
 
 'I have suffered imprisonment long enough for King 
 Charles's sake,' said the countess, 'and have no mind to 
 undergo it at his hand. Besides, if I am removed from 
 the personal superintendence of my son's dominions in 
 Man, I know not what new usurpation may be attempted 
 there. I must be obliged to you, cousin, to contrive that 
 I may get in security to Vale Royal, and from thence 
 I know I shall be guarded safely to Liverpool.' 
 
 'You may rely on my guidance and protection, noble 
 lady,' answered her host, 'though you had come here at 
 midnight, and with the rogue's head in your apron, like 
 Judith in the Holy Apocrypha, which I joy to hear once 
 more read in churches.' 
 
 'Do the gentry resort much to the court?' said the 
 lady. 
 
 'Ay, madam,' replied Sir Geoffrey; 'and according 
 to our saying, when miners do begin to bore in these 
 parts, it is "for the grace of God, and what they there 
 may find."' 
 
 'Meet the old Cavaliers with much countenance?' 
 continued the countess. 
 
 'Faith, madam, to speak truth,' replied the knight, 
 'the King hath so gracious a manner that it makes 
 every man's hopes blossom, though we have seen but 
 few that have ripened into fruit.' 
 
 'You have not yourself, my cousin,' answered the 
 
 89
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 countess, ' had room to complain of ingratitude, I trust? 
 Few have less deserved it at the King's hand.' 
 
 Sir Geoffrey was unwilling, like most prudent persons, 
 to own the existence of expectations which had proved 
 fallacious, yet had too little art in his character to conceal 
 his disappointment entirely. 'Who? I, madam?' he 
 said. 'Alas! what should a poor country knight expect 
 from the King, besides the pleasure of seeing him in 
 Whitehall once more, and enjoying his own again? And 
 his Majesty was very gracious when I was presented, 
 and spoke to me of Worcester, and of my horse, Black 
 Hastings — he had forgot his name, though — faith, 
 and mine too, I believe, had not Prince Rupert whis- 
 pered it to him. And I saw some old friends, such as his 
 Grace of Ormond, Sir Marmaduke Langdale, Sir Philip 
 Musgrave, and so forth; and had a jolly rouse or two, 
 to the tune of old times.' 
 
 * I should have thought so many wounds received — 
 so many dangers risked — such considerable losses — 
 merited something more than a few smooth words,' said 
 the coimtess. 
 
 'Nay, my lady, there were other friends of mine who 
 had the same thought,' answered Peveril. 'Some were 
 of opinion that the loss of so many hundred acres of fair 
 land was worth some reward of honour at least; and 
 there were who thought my descent from William the 
 Conqueror — craving your ladyship's pardon for boast- 
 ing it in your presence — would not have become a 
 higher rank or title worse than the pedigree of some who 
 have been promoted. But what said the witty Duke of 
 Buckingham, forsooth — whose grandsire was a Lei's- 
 tershire knight, rather poorer, and scarce so well-born 
 
 go
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 as myself? Why, he said that, if all of my degree who 
 deserved well of the King in the late times were to be 
 made peers, the House of Lords must meet upon Salis- 
 bury Plain ! ' 
 
 'And that bad jest passed for a good argument!' said 
 the countess; 'and well it might, where good arguments 
 pass for bad jests. But here comes one I must be ac- 
 quainted with.' 
 
 This was Httle Julian, who now reentered the hall, 
 leading his little sister, as if he had brought her to bear 
 witness to the boastful tale which he told his father, of 
 his having manfully ridden Black Hastings to the stable- 
 yard, alone in the saddle; and that Saunders, though he 
 walked by the horse's head, did not once put his hand 
 upon the rein, and Brewer, though he stood beside him, 
 scarce held him by the knee. The father kissed the boy 
 heartily; and the countess, calling him to her so soon as 
 Sir Geoffrey had set him down, kissed his forehead also, 
 and then surveyed all his features with a keen and pene- 
 trating eye. 
 
 *He is a true Peveril,' said she, 'mixed as he should be 
 with some touch of the Stanley. Cousin, you must grant 
 me my boon, and when I am safely established, and have 
 my present affair arranged, you must let me have this 
 little Julian of yours some time hence, to be nurtured 
 in my house, held as my page, and the playfellow of the 
 little Derby. I trust in Heaven, they will be such 
 friends as their fathers have been, and may God send 
 them more fortunate times !'^ 
 
 'Marry, and I thank you for the proposal with all my 
 heart, madam,' said the knight. 'There are so many 
 * See Note 5. 
 91
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 noble houses decayed, and so many more in which the 
 exercise and discipline for the training of noble youths 
 is given up and neglected, that I have often feared 
 I must have kept Gil to be young master at home; and 
 I have had too little nurture myself to teach him much, 
 and so he would have been a mere hunting, hawking 
 knight of Derbyshire. But in your ladyship's household, 
 and with the noble young earl, he will have all, and more 
 than all, the education which I could desire.' 
 
 'There shall be no distinction betwixt them, cousin,' 
 said the countess; 'Margaret Stanley's son shall be as 
 much the object of care to me as my own, since you are 
 kindly disposed to entrust him to my charge. You look 
 pale, Margaret,' she continued, 'and the tear stands in 
 your eye. Do not be so foolish, my love; what I ask is 
 better than you can desire for your boy; for the house 
 of my father, the Duke de la Tremouille, was the most 
 famous school of chivalry in France; nor have I degen- 
 erated from him, or suffered any relaxation in that noble 
 discipline which trained young gentlemen to do honour 
 to their race. You can promise your Julian no such ad- 
 vantages, if you train him up a mere home-bred youth.' 
 
 'I acknowledge the importance of the favour, madam,' 
 said Lady Peveril, 'and must acquiesce in what your 
 ladyship honours us by proposing, and Sir Geoffrey 
 approves of; but Juhan is an only child, and — ' 
 
 'An only son,' said the countess, 'but surely not an 
 only child. You pay too high deference to our masters, 
 the male sex, if you allow Julian to engross all your affec- 
 tion, and spare none for this beautiful girl.' 
 
 So saying, she set down Julian, and, taking Alice 
 Bridgenorth on her lap, began to caress her; and there 
 
 92
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 was, notwithstanding her masculine character, some- 
 thing so sweet in the tone of her voice and in the cast of 
 her features, that the child immediately smiled, and re- 
 plied to her marks of fondness. This mistake embar- 
 rassed Lady Peveril exceedingly. Knowing the blunt 
 impetuosity of her husband's character, his devotion to 
 the memory of the deceased Earl of Derby, and his cor- 
 responding veneration for his widow, she was alarmed 
 for the consequences of his hearing the conduct of Bridge- 
 north that morning, and was particularly desirous that 
 he should not learn it save from herself in private, and 
 after due preparation. But the countess's error led to a 
 more precipitate disclosure. 
 
 'That pretty girl, madam,' answered Sir Geoffrey, *is 
 none of ours; I wish she were. She belongs to a neigh- 
 bour hard by — a good man, and, to say truth, a good 
 neighbour, though he was carried off from his allegiance 
 in the late times by a d — d Presbyterian scoundrel, who 
 calls himself a parson, and whom I hope to fetch down 
 from his perch presently, with a wannion to him! He 
 has been cock of the roost long enough. There are rods 
 in pickle to switch the Geneva cloak with, I can tell the 
 sour-faced rogues that much. But this child is the 
 daughter of Bridgenorth — neighbour Bridgenorth, of 
 Moultrassie Hall.' 
 
 'Bridgenorth!' said the countess. *I thought I had 
 known all the honourable names in Derbyshire; I re- 
 member nothing of Bridgenorth. But stay — was there 
 not a sequestrator and committeeman of that name? 
 Sure, it cannot be he.' 
 
 Peveril took some shame to himself as he replied, 'It 
 is the very man whom your ladyship means, and you 
 
 93
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 may conceive the reluctance with which I submitted to 
 receive good ofl&ces from one of his kidney; but had I 
 not done so, I should have scarce known how to find a 
 roof to cover Dame Margaret's head.' 
 
 The countess, as he spoke, raised the child gently from 
 her lap and placed it upon the carpet, though little AUce 
 showed a disinclination to the change of place, which 
 the Lady of Derby and Man would certainly have in- 
 dulged in a child of patrician descent and loyal parent- 
 age. 
 
 * I blame you not,' she said ; ' no one knows what temp- 
 tation will bring us down to. Yet I did think Peveril of 
 the Peak would have resided in its deepest cavern sooner 
 than owed an obligation to a regicide.' 
 
 'Nay, madam,' answered the knight, *my neighbour is 
 bad enough, but not so bad as you would make him: he 
 is but a Presbyterian — that I must confess — but not 
 an Lidependent.' 
 
 *A variety of the same monster,' said the coimtess, 
 'who hallooed while the others hunted, and bound the 
 victim whom the Independents massacred. Betwixt 
 such sects I prefer the Lidependents. They are at least 
 bold, barefaced, merciless villains, have more of the 
 tiger in them and less of the crocodile. I have no doubt 
 it was that worthy gentleman who took it upon him this 
 morning — ' 
 
 She stopped short, for she saw Lady Peveril was 
 vexed and embarrassed. 
 
 *I am,' she said, 'the most luckless of beings. I have 
 said something, I know not what, to distress you, Mar- 
 garet. Mystery is a bad thing, and betwixt us there 
 should be none.' 
 
 94
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'There is none, madam/ said Lady Peveril, some- 
 thing impatiently; 'I waited but an opportunity to tell 
 my husband what had happened. Sir Geoffrey, Master 
 Bridgenorth was unfortunately here when the Lady 
 Derby and I met; and he thought it part of his duty to 
 speak of — ' 
 
 'To speak of what?' said the knight, bending his 
 brows. 'You were ever something too fond, dame, of 
 giving way to the usurpation of such people.' 
 
 'I only mean,' said Lady Peveril, 'that as the person 
 — he to whom Lady Derby's story related — was the 
 brother of his late lady, he threatened — but I cannot 
 think that he was serious.' 
 
 'Threaten! — threaten the Lady of Derby and Man 
 in my house ! — the widow of my friend — the noble 
 Charlotte of Latham House! By Heaven, the prick- 
 eared slave shall answer it! How comes it that my 
 knaves threw him not out of the window? ' 
 
 'Alas! Sir Geoffrey, you forget how much we owe 
 him,' said the lady. 
 
 'Owe him!' said the knight, still more indignant; for 
 in his singleness of apprehension he conceived that his 
 wife alluded to pecuniary obligations; 'if I do owe him 
 some money, hath he not security for it? and must he 
 have the right, over and above, to domineer and play 
 the magistrate in Martindale Castle? Where is he? what 
 have you made of him? I will — I must speak with 
 him.' 
 
 'Be patient, Sir Geoffrey,' said the countess, who now 
 discerned the cause of her kinswoman's apprehension; 
 'and be assured I did not need your chivalry to de- 
 fend me against this discourteous faitour, as " Morte 
 
 95
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 d'Arthur" would have called him. I promise you, my 
 kinswoman hath fully righted my wrong; and I am so 
 pleased to owe my deliverance entirely to her gallantry, 
 that I charge and command you, as a true knight, not 
 to mingle in the adventure of another.' 
 
 Lady Peveril, who knew her husband's blunt and im- 
 patient temper, and perceived that he was becoming 
 angry, now took up the story, and plainly and simply 
 pointed out the cause of Master Bridgenorth's interfer- 
 ence. 
 
 *I am sorry for it,' said the knight; 'I thought he had 
 more sense, and that this happy change might have 
 done some good upon him. But you should have told 
 me this instantly. It consists not with my honour that 
 he should be kept prisoner in this house, as if I feared 
 anything he could do to annoy the noble countess, while 
 she is under my roof, or within twenty miles of this 
 castle.' 
 
 So saying, and bowing to the countess, he went 
 straight to the gilded chamber, leaving Lady Peveril in 
 great anxiety for the event of an angry meeting between 
 a temper hasty as that of her husband and stubborn like 
 that of Bridgenorth. Her apprehensions were, however, 
 unnecessary; for the meeting was not fated to take 
 place. 
 
 When Sir Geoffrey Peveril, having dismissed Whit- 
 aker and his sentinels, entered the gilded chamber, in 
 which he expected to find his captive, the prisoner had 
 escaped, and it was easy to see in what manner. The 
 sliding panel had, in the hurry of the moment, escaped 
 the memory of Lady Peveril, and of Whitaker, the only 
 persons who knew anything of it. It was probable that 
 
 96
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 a chink had remained open, sufficient to indicate its 
 existence to Bridgenorth; who, withdrawing it alto- 
 gether, had found his way into the secret apartment with 
 which it communicated, and from thence to the postern 
 of the castle by another secret passage, which had been 
 formed in the thickness of the wall, as is not uncommon 
 in ancient mansions ; the lords of which were liable to so 
 many mutations of fortune, that they usually contrived 
 to secure some lurking-place and secret mode of retreat 
 from their fortresses. That Bridgenorth had discovered 
 and availed himself of this secret mode of retreat was 
 evident; because the private doors communicating with 
 the postern and the sUding panel in the gilded chamber 
 were both left open. 
 
 Sir Geoffrey returned to the ladies with looks of per- 
 plexity. While he deemed Bridgenorth within his reach, 
 he was apprehensive of nothing he could do; for he felt 
 himself his superior in personal strength, and in that 
 species of courage which induces a man to rush, without 
 hesitation, upon personal danger. But when at a dis- 
 tance, he had been for many years accustomed to con- 
 sider Bridgenorth's power and influence as something 
 formidable; and, notwithstanding the late change of 
 affairs, his ideas so naturally reverted to his neighbour 
 as a powerful friend or dangerous enemy, that he felt 
 more apprehension on the coimtess's score than he was 
 willing to acknowledge even to himself. The countess 
 observed his downcast and anxious brow, and requested 
 to know if her stay there was likely to involve him in 
 any trouble or in any danger. 
 
 'The trouble should be welcome,' said Sir Geoffrey, 
 'and more welcome the danger, which should come on 
 
 27 97
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 such an account. My plan was, that your ladyship 
 should have honoured Martindale with a few days' resi- 
 dence, which might have been kept private until the 
 search after you was ended. Had I seen this fellow 
 Bridgenorth, I have no doubt I could have compelled 
 him to act discreetly; but he is now at liberty, and will 
 keep out of my reach; and, what is worse, he has the 
 secret of the priest's chamber.' 
 
 Here the knight paused, and seemed much embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 'You can, then, neither conceal nor protect me?' said 
 the countess. 
 
 'Pardon, my honoured lady,' answered the knight, 
 'and let me say out my say. The plain truth is, that this 
 man hath many friends among the Presbyterians here, 
 who are more numerous than I would wish them; and 
 if he falls in with the pursuivant fellow who carries the 
 warrant of the privy council, it is likely he will back 
 him with force sufficient to try to execute it. And I 
 doubt whether any of our own friends can be sum- 
 moned together in haste sufficient to resist such a power 
 as they are like to bring together,' 
 
 'Nor would I wish any friends to take arms, in my 
 name, against the King's warrant, Sir Geoffrey,' said 
 the countess. 
 
 'Nay, for that matter,' replied the knight, 'an his 
 Majesty will grant warrants against his best friends, he 
 must look to have them resisted. But the best I can 
 think of in this emergence is — though the proposal be 
 something inhospitable — that your ladyship should 
 take presently to horse, if your fatigue will permit. I 
 will mount also, with some brisk fellows, who will 
 
 98
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 lodge you safe at Vale Royal, though the sheriff stopped 
 the way with a whole posse comitatusJ 
 
 The Countess of Derby willingly acquiesced in this 
 proposal. She had enjoyed a night's sound repose in the 
 private chamber, to which Ellesmere had guided her on 
 the preceding evening, and was quite ready to resume 
 her route, or flight. 'She scarce knew,' she said, 'which 
 of the two she should term it.' 
 
 Lady Peveril wept at the necessity which seemed to 
 hurry her earliest friend and protectress from under her 
 roof, at the instant when the clouds of adversity were 
 gathering around her; but she saw no alternative 
 equally safe. Nay, however strong her attachment to 
 Lady Derby, she could not but be more readily recon- 
 ciled to her hasty departure, when she considered the 
 inconvenience, and even danger, in which her presence, 
 at such a time, and in such circumstances, was likely to 
 involve a man so bold and hot-tempered as her husband 
 Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 While Lady Peveril, therefore, made every arrange- 
 ment which time permitted and circumstances required 
 for the countess prosecuting her journey, her husband, 
 whose spirits always rose with the prospect of action, 
 issued his orders to Whitaker to get together a few stout 
 fellows, with back and breast-pieces, and steel-caps. 
 ' There are the two lackeys, and Outram and Saunders, 
 besides the other groom fellow, and Roger Raine, and 
 his son — but bid Roger not come drunk again — thy- 
 self, young Dick of the Dale and his servant, and a file 
 or two of the tenants; we shall be enough for any force 
 they can make. All these are fellows that will strike 
 hard, and ask no question why: their hands are ever 
 
 99
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 readier than their tongues, and their mouths are more 
 made for drinking than speaking.' 
 
 Whitaker, apprised of the necessity of the case, asked 
 if he should not warn Sir Jasper Cranbourne. 
 
 'Not a word to him, as you live,' said the knight; 
 'this may be an outlawry, as they call it, for what I 
 know; and therefore I will bring no lands or tenements 
 into peril saving mine own. Sir Jasper hath had a 
 troublesome time of it for many a year. By my will, he 
 shall sit quiet for the rest of 's days.'
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Pang. A rescue! a rescue! 
 
 Mrs. Quickly. Good people, bring a rescue or two. 
 
 Henry IV, Parti. 
 
 The followers of Peveril were so well accustomed to the 
 sound of ' Boot and saddle,' that they were soon mounted 
 and in order; and in all the form, and with some of the 
 dignity, of danger proceeded to escort the Countess of 
 Derby through the hilly and desert tract of country 
 which connects the frontier of the shire with the neigh- 
 bouring county of Cheshire. The cavalcade moved with 
 considerable precaution, which they had been taught 
 by the discipline of the Civil Wars. One wary and well- 
 mounted trooper rode about two hundred yards in 
 advance; followed at about half that distance by two 
 more, with their carabines advanced, as if ready for 
 action. About one hundred yards behind the advance 
 came the main body; where the Countess of Derby, 
 mounted on Lady Peveril's ambling palfrey, for her own 
 had been exhausted by the journey from London to 
 Martindale Castle, accompanied by one groom of 
 approved fidelity, and one waiting-maid, was attended 
 and guarded by the knight of the Peak and three files of 
 good and practised horsemen. In the rear came Whit- 
 aker, with Lance Outram, as men of especial trust, to 
 whom the covering the retreat was confided. They rode, 
 as the Spanish proverb expresses it, 'with the beard on 
 the shoulder,' — looking around, that is, from time to 
 
 lOI
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 time, and using every precaution to have the speediest 
 knowledge of any pursuit which might take place. 
 
 But, however wise in discipline, Peveril and his fol- 
 lowers were somewhat remiss in civil policy. The knight 
 had communicated to Whitaker, though without any 
 apparent necessity, the precise nature of their present 
 expedition; and Whitaker was equally communicative 
 to his comrade Lance, the keeper. ' It is strange enough, 
 Master Whitaker,' said the latter, when he had heard 
 the case, 'and I wish you, being a wise man, would 
 expound it — why, when we have been wishing for the 
 King, and praying for the King, and fighting for the 
 King, and dying for the King, for these twenty years, 
 the first thing we find to do on his return is to get into 
 harness to resist his warrant ! * 
 
 'Pooh! you silly fellow,' said WTiitaker, 'that is all 
 you know of the true bottom of our quarrel ! Why, man, 
 we fought for the King's person against his warrant all 
 along from the very beginning; for I remember the 
 rogues' proclamations, and so forth, always ran in the 
 name of the King and Parliament.' 
 
 *Ay! was it even so?' replied Lance. 'Nay, then, if 
 they begin the old game so soon again, and send out 
 warrants in the King's name against his loyal subjects, 
 well fare our stout knight, say I, who is ready to take 
 them down in their stocking-soles. And if Bridgenorth 
 takes the chase after us, I shall not be sorry to have a 
 knock at him for one.' 
 
 'Why, the man, bating he is a pestilent Roundhead 
 and Puritan,' said Whitaker, 'is no bad neighbour. 
 What has he done to thee, man?' 
 
 'He has poached on the manor/ answered the keeper. 
 
 I02
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'The devil he has ! ' replied Whitaker. 'Thou must be 
 jesting, Lance. Bridgenorth is neither hunter nor haw- 
 ker ; he hath not so much of honesty in him.' 
 
 'Ay, but he runs after game you little think of, with 
 his sour, melancholy face, that would scare babes and 
 curdle milk,' answered Lance. 
 
 'Thou canst not mean the wenches?' said Whitaker: 
 'why, he hath been melancholy mad with moping for 
 the death of his wife. Thou knowest our lady took the 
 child, for fear he should strangle it, for putting him in 
 mind of its mother, in some of his tantrums. Under her 
 favour, and among friends, there are many poor Cava- 
 liers' children that care would be better bestowed upon. 
 But to thy tale.' 
 
 'Why, thus it runs,' said Lance. 'I think you may 
 have noticed, Master Whitaker, that a certain Mistress 
 Deborah hath manifested a certain favour for a certain 
 person in a certain household.' 
 
 'For thyself, to wit,' answered Whitaker; 'Lance 
 Outram, thou art the vainest coxcomb — ' 
 
 'Coxcomb!' said Lance; 'why, 'twas but last night 
 the whole family saw her, as one would say, fling herself 
 at my head.' 
 
 'I would she had been a brick-bat, then, to have 
 broken it, for thy impertinence and conceit,' said the 
 steward. 
 
 'Well, but do but hearken. The next morning — 
 that is, this very blessed morning — I thought of going 
 to lodge a buck in the park, judging a bit of venison 
 might be wanted in the larder, after yesterday's was- 
 sail; and, as I passed under the nursery window, I did 
 but just look up to see what madam governante was 
 
 103
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 about; and so I saw her, through the casement, whip on 
 her hood and scarf as soon as she had a glimpse of me. 
 Immediately after I saw the still-room door open, and 
 made sure she was coming through the garden, and so 
 over the breach and down to the park; and so, thought 
 I, "Aha, Mistress Deb, if you are so ready to dance 
 after my pipe and tabor, I will give you a couranto 
 before you shall come up with me." And so I went down 
 Ivy-Tod Dingle, where the copse is tangled and the 
 ground swampy, and round by Haxley Bottom, think- 
 ing all the while she was following, and laughing in my 
 sleeve at the round I was giving her.' 
 
 'You deserved to be ducked for it,' said Whitaker, 
 *for a weather-headed puppy; but what is all this Jack- 
 a-Lantern story to Bridgenorth? ' 
 
 'Why, it was all along of he, man,' continued Lance, 
 'that is, of Bridgenorth, that she did not follow me. 
 Gad, I first walked slow, and then stopped, and then 
 turned back a Httle, and then began to wonder what she 
 had made of herself, and to think I had borne myself 
 something like a jackass in the matter.' 
 
 'That I deny,' said Whitaker, 'never jackass but 
 would have borne him better; but go on.' 
 
 'Why, turning my face towards the castle, I went 
 back as if I had my nose bleeding, when, just by the 
 Copely thorn, which stands, you know, a flight-shot 
 from the postern gate, I saw Madam Deb in close con- 
 ference with the enemy.' 
 
 'What enemy?' said the steward. 
 
 'What enemy! why, who but Bridgenorth? They 
 kept out of sight, and among the copse. " But," thought 
 I, "it is hard if I cannot stalk you, that have stalked so 
 
 104
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 many bucks. If so, I had better give my shafts to be 
 pudding-pins." So I cast round the thicket, to watch their 
 waters; and, may I never bend cross-bow again, if I did 
 not see him give her gold, and squeeze her by the hand ! ' 
 
 'And was that all you saw pass between them?' said 
 the steward. 
 
 'Faith, and it was enough to dismount me from my 
 hobby,' said Lance. 'What! when I thought I had the 
 prettiest girl in the castle dancing after my whistle, to 
 find that she gave me the bag to hold, and was smug- 
 gling in a corner with a rich old Puritan ! ' 
 
 'Credit me. Lance, it is not as thou thinkest,' said 
 Whitaker. 'Bridgenorth cares not for these amorous 
 toys, and thou thinkest of nothing else. But it is fitting 
 our knight should know that he has met with Deborah 
 in secret, and given her gold; for never Puritan gave 
 gold yet, but it was earnest for some devil's work done 
 or to be done.' 
 
 'Nay, but,' said Lance, 'I would not be such a dog- 
 bolt as to go and betray the girl to our master. She hath 
 a right to follow her fancy, as the dame said who kissed 
 her cow; only I do not much approve her choice, that 
 is all. He cannot be six years short of fifty; and a ver- 
 juice countenance, under the penthouse of a slouched 
 beaver, and bag of meagre dried bones, swaddled up in 
 a black cloak, is no such temptation, methinks.' 
 
 'I tell you once more,' said Whitaker, 'you are mis- 
 taken ; and that there neither is nor can be any matter of 
 love between them, but only some intrigue, concerning, 
 perhaps, this same noble Countess of Derby. I tell thee, 
 it behoves my master to know it, and I will presently 
 tell it to him.'
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 So saying, and in spite of all the remonstrances which 
 Lance continued to make on behalf of Mistress Deborah, 
 the steward rode up to the main body of their little 
 party, and mentioned to the knight and the Countess 
 of Derby what he had just heard from the keeper, add- 
 ing at the same time his own suspicions that Master 
 Bridgenorth of Moultrassie Hall was desirous to keep up 
 some system of espial in the Castle of Martindale, either 
 in order to secure his menaced vengeance on the Coun- 
 tess of Derby, as authoress of his brother-in-law's death, 
 or for some unknown, but probably sinister, purpose. 
 
 The knight of the Peak was filled with high resent- 
 ment at Whitaker's communication. According to his 
 prejudices, those of the opposite faction were supposed 
 to make up by wit and intrigue what they wanted in 
 open force; and he now hastily conceived that his neigh- 
 bour, whose prudence he always respected, and some- 
 times even dreaded, was maintaining, for his private 
 purposes, a clandestine correspondence with a member 
 of his family. If this was for the betrayal of his noble 
 guest, it argued at once treachery and presumption; or, 
 viewing the whole as Lance had done, a criminal in- 
 trigue with a woman so near the person of Lady Peveril 
 was in itself, he deemed, a piece of sovereign imperti- 
 nence and disrespect on the part of such a person as 
 Bridgenorth, against whom Sir Geoffrey's anger was 
 kindled accordingly. 
 
 Whitaker had scarce regained his post in the rear, 
 when he again quitted it, and galloped to the main body 
 with more speed than before, with the unpleasing tid- 
 ings that they were pursued by half a score of horsemen 
 and better. 
 
 1 06
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Ride on briskly to Hartley Nick,' said the knight, 'and 
 there, with God to help, we will bide the knaves. Coun- 
 tess of Derby, one word and a short one. Farewell! you 
 must ride forward with Whitaker and another careful 
 fellow, and let me alone to see that no one treads on your 
 skirts.' 
 
 'I will abide with you and stand them,' said the coun- 
 tess; 'you know of old, I fear not to look on man's work.' 
 
 'You must ride on, madam,' said the knight, 'for the 
 sake of the young earl and the rest of my noble friend's 
 family. There is no manly w^ork which can be worth 
 your looking upon: it is but child's play that these fel- 
 lows bring with them.' 
 
 As she yielded a reluctant consent to continue her 
 flight, they reached the bottom of Hartley Nick — a 
 pass very steep and craggy, and where the road, or 
 rather path, which had hitherto passed over more open 
 ground, became pent up and confined, betwixt copse- 
 wood on the one side and on the other the precipitous 
 bank of a mountain stream. 
 
 The Countess of Derby, after an affectionate adieu to 
 Sir Geoffrey, and having requested him to convey her 
 kind commendations to her little page-elect, and his 
 mother, proceeded up the pass at a round pace, and, 
 with her attendants and escort, was soon out of sight. 
 Immediately after she had disappeared, the pursuers 
 came up with Sir Geoffrey Peveril, who had divided and 
 drawn up his party so as completely to occupy the road 
 at three different points. 
 
 The opposite party was led, as Sir Geoffrey had ex- 
 pected, by Major Bridgenorth. At his side was a person 
 in black, with a silver greyhound on his arm; and he was 
 
 107
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 followed by about eight or ten inhabitants of the village 
 of Martindale-Moultrassie, two or three of whom were 
 officers of the peace, and others were personally known 
 to Sir Geoffrey as favourers of the subverted govern- 
 ment. 
 
 As the party rode briskly up, Sir Geoffrey called to 
 them to halt; and as they continued advancing, he 
 ordered his own people to present their pistols and cara- 
 bines; and after assuming that menacing attitude, he 
 repeated, with a voice of thunder, 'Halt, or we fire!' 
 
 The other party halted accordingly, and Major 
 Bridgenorth advanced, as if to parley. 
 
 'Why, how now, neighbour,' said Sir Geoffrey, as if 
 he had at that moment recognised him for the first time, 
 'what makes you ride so sharp this morning? Are you 
 not afraid to harm your horse or spoil your spurs? ' 
 
 'Sir Geoffrey,' said the major, 'I have no time for 
 jesting: I am on the King's affairs.' 
 
 'Are you sure it is not upon Old Noll's, neighbour? 
 You used to hold his the better errand,' said the knight, 
 with a smile which gave occasion to a horse-laugh 
 among his followers. 
 
 'Show him your warrant,' said Bridgenorth to the 
 man in black formerly mentioned, who was a pursuivant. 
 Then taking the warrant from the officer, he gave it to 
 Sir Geoffrey. 'To this, at least, you will pay regard.' 
 
 'The same regard which you would have paid to it a 
 month back or so,' said the knight, tearing the warrant 
 to shreds. 'What a plague do you stare at? Do you 
 think you have a monopoly of rebellion, and that we 
 have not a right to show a trick of disobedience in our 
 turn? ' 
 
 io8
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Make way, Sir Geoffrey Peveril,' said Bridgenorth, 
 'or you will compel me to do that I may be sorry for. 
 I am in this matter the avenger of the blood of one 
 of the Lord's saints, and I will follow the chase while 
 Heaven grants me an arm to make my way.' 
 
 'You shall make no way here, but at your peril,' said 
 Sir Geoffrey; 'this is my ground. I have been harassed 
 enough for these twenty years by saints, as you call 
 yourselves. I tell you, master, you shall neither violate 
 the security of my house, nor pursue my friends over 
 the grounds, nor tamper, as you have done, amongst 
 my servants, with impunity. I have had you in respect 
 for certain kind doings, which I will not either forget 
 or deny, and you will find it difficult to make me draw 
 a sword or bend a pistol against you; but offer any 
 hostile movement, or presume to advance a foot, and I 
 will make sure of you presently. And for these rascals, 
 who come hither to annoy a noble lady on my bounds, 
 unless you draw them off, I will presently send some of 
 them to the devil before their time.' 
 
 'Make room at your proper peril,' said Major Bridge- 
 north; and he put his right hand on his holster-pistol. 
 Sir Geoffrey closed with him instantly, seized him by the 
 collar, and spurred Black Hastings, checking him at the 
 same time, so that the horse made a courbette, and 
 brought the full weight of his chest against the counter 
 of the other. A ready soldier might, in Bridgenorth's 
 situation, have rid himself of his adversary with a 
 bullet. But Bridgenorth's courage, notwithstanding his 
 having served some time with the ParHament army, 
 was rather of a civil than a military character; and he 
 was inferior to his adversary, not only in strength and 
 
 109
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 horsemanship, but also and especially in the daring and 
 decisive resolution which made Sir Geoffrey thrust him- 
 self readily into personal contest. While, therefore, they 
 tugged and grappled together upon terms which bore 
 such httle accordance with their long acquaintance and 
 close neighbourhood, it was no wonder that Bridgenorth 
 should be unhorsed with much violence. While Sir 
 Geoffrey sprung from the saddle, the party of Bridge- 
 north advanced to rescue their leader, and that of the 
 knight to oppose them. Swords were unsheathed and 
 pistols presented; but Sir Geoffrey, with the voice of a 
 herald, commanded both parties to stand back, and to 
 keep the peace. 
 
 The pursuivant took the hint, and easily found a 
 reason for not prosecuting a dangerous duty. ' The war- 
 rant,' he said, 'was destroyed. They that did it must be 
 answerable to the council ; for his part, he could proceed 
 no farther without his commission.' 
 
 'Well said, and like a peaceable fellow!' said Sir 
 Geoffrey. 'Let him have refreshment at the castle; his 
 nag is sorely out of condition. Come, neighbour Bridge- 
 north, get up, man. I trust you have had no hurt in this 
 mad affray? I was loth to lay hand on you, man, till 
 you plucked out your petronel.' 
 
 As he spoke thus, he aided the major to rise. The 
 pursuivant, meanwhile, drew aside; and with him the 
 constable and head borough, who were not without some 
 tacit suspicion that, though Peveril was interrupting 
 the direct course of law in this matter, yet he was Hkely 
 to have his offence considered by favourable judges; 
 and therefore it might be as much for their interest and 
 safety to give way as to oppose him. But the rest of the
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 party, friends of Bridgenorth and of his principles, kept 
 their ground notwithstanding this defection, and seemed, 
 from their looks, sternly determined to rule their con- 
 duct by that of their leader, whatever it might be. 
 
 But it was evident that Bridgenorth did not intend to 
 renew the struggle. He shook himself rather roughly 
 free from the hands of Sir Geoffrey Peveril; but it was 
 not to draw his sword. On the contrary, he mounted 
 his horse with a sullen and dejected air; and, making a 
 sign to his followers, turned back the same road which 
 he had come. Sir Geoffrey looked after him for some 
 minutes. 'Now, there goes a man,' said he, 'who would 
 have been a right honest fellow had he not been a Pres- 
 byterian. But there is no heartiness about them: they 
 can never forgive a fair fall upon the sod; they bear 
 malice, and that I hate as I do a black cloak, or a 
 Geneva skull-cap, and a pair of long ears rising on each 
 side on 't, like two chimneys at the gable ends of a 
 thatched cottage. They are as sly as the devil to boot; 
 and, therefore, Lance Outram, take two with you, and 
 keep after them, that they may not turn our flank, and 
 get on the track of the countess again after all.' 
 
 'I had as soon they should course my lady's white 
 tame doe,' answered Lance, in the spirit of his calling. 
 He proceeded to execute his master's orders by dogging 
 Major Bridgenorth at a distance, and observing his 
 course from such heights as commanded the country. 
 But it was soon evident that no manoeuvre was intended, 
 and that the major was taking the direct road home- 
 ward. When this was ascertained, Sir Geoffrey dismissed 
 most of his followers; and, retaining only his own domes- 
 tics, rode hastily forward to overtake the countess. 
 
 Ill
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 It is only necessary to say further, that he completed 
 his purpose of escorting the Countess of Derby to Vale 
 Royal, without meeting any further hindrance by the 
 way. The lord of the mansion readily undertook to 
 conduct the high-minded lady to Liverpool, and the 
 task of seeing her safely embarked for her son's hered- 
 itary dominions, where there was no doubt of her re- 
 maining in personal safety until the accusation against 
 her for breach of the royal indemnity, by the execution 
 of Christian, could be brought to some compromise. 
 
 For a length of time this was no easy matter. Claren- 
 don, then at the head of Charles's administration, con- 
 sidered her rash action, though dictated by motives 
 which the human breast must, in some respects, sym- 
 pathise with, as calculated to shake the restored tran- 
 quillity of England, by exciting the doubts and jeal- 
 ousies of those who had to apprehend the consequences 
 of what is called, in our own time, a reaction. At the 
 same time, the high services of this distinguished family, 
 the merits of the countess herself, the memory of her 
 gallant husband, and the very peculiar circumstances 
 of jurisdiction which took the case out of all common 
 rules, pleaded strongly in her favour; and the death of 
 Christian was at length only punished by the imposition 
 of a heavy fine, amounting, we beUeve, to many thou- 
 sand pounds, which was levied, with great difficulty, 
 out of the shattered estates of the young Earl of Derby.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 My native land, good-nightl 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Lady Peveril remained in no small anxiety for several 
 hours after her husband and the countess had departed 
 from Martindale Castle; more especially when she 
 learned that Major Bridgenorth, concerning whose 
 motions she made private inquiry, had taken horse with 
 a party, and was gone to the westward in the same 
 direction with Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 At length her immediate uneasiness in regard to the 
 safety of her husband and the countess was removed by 
 the arrival of Whitaker, with her husband's commenda- 
 tions, and an account of the scuffle betwixt himself and 
 Major Bridgenorth. 
 
 Lady Peveril shuddered to see how nearly they had 
 approached to renewal of the scenes of civil discord; 
 and while she was thankful to Heaven for her husband's 
 immediate preservation, she could not help feeling both 
 regret and apprehension for the consequences of his 
 quarrel with Major Bridgenorth. They had now lost an 
 old friend, who had showed himself such under those 
 circumstances of adversity by which friendship is most 
 severely tried; and she could not disguise from herself 
 that Bridgenorth, thus irritated, might be a troublesome, 
 if not a dangerous, enemy. His rights as a creditor he 
 had hitherto used with gentleness; but if he should 
 employ rigour, Lady Peveril, whose attention to domes- 
 27 113
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tic economy had made her much better acquainted with 
 her husband's affairs than he was himself, foresaw con- 
 siderable inconvenience from the measures which the 
 law put in his power. She comforted herself with the 
 recollection, however, that she had still a strong hold 
 on Bridgenorth, through his paternal affection, and from 
 the fixed opinion which he had hitherto manifested that 
 his daughter's health could only flourish while under 
 her charge. But any expectations of reconciliation 
 which Lady Peveril might probably have founded on 
 this circumstance were frustrated by an incident which 
 took place in the course of the following morning. 
 
 The governante, Mistress Deborah, who has been 
 already mentioned, went forth, as usual, with the chil- 
 dren, to take their morning exercise in the park, accom- 
 panied by Rachael, a girl who acted occasionally as her 
 assistant in attending upon them. But not as usual did 
 she return. It was near the hour of breakfast, when 
 Ellesmere, with an unwonted degree of primness in her 
 mouth and manner, came to acquaint her lady that 
 Mistress Deborah had not thought proper to come back 
 from the park, though the breakfast-hour approached so 
 near. 
 
 'She will come, then, presently,' said Lady Peveril, 
 with indifference. 
 
 Ellesmere gave a short and doubtful cough, and then 
 proceeded to say, that Rachael had been sent home with 
 little Master Julian, and that Mistress Deborah had 
 been pleased to say she would walk on with Miss Bridge- 
 north as far as Moultrassie Holt; which was a point at 
 which the property of the major, as matters now stood, 
 bounded that of Sir Geoffrey Peveril. 
 
 114
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *Is the wench turned silly,' exclaimed the lady, some- 
 thing angrily, 'that she does not obey my orders, and 
 return at regular hours?' 
 
 'She may be turning silly,' said Ellesmere, mysteri- 
 ously; 'or she may be turning too sly; and I think it 
 were as well your ladyship looked to it.' 
 
 'Looked to what, Ellesmere?' said the lady, impa- 
 tiently. 'You are strangely oracular this morning. If 
 you know anything to the prejudice of this young wo- 
 man, I pray you speak it out.' 
 
 'I prejudice!' said Ellesmere. 'I scorn to prejudice 
 man, woman, or child in the way of a fellow-servant; 
 only I wish your ladyship to look about you, and use 
 your own eyes, that is all.' 
 
 'You bid me use my own eyes, Ellesmere; but I sus- 
 pect,' answered the lady, 'you would be better pleased 
 were I contented to 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 the indignant 
 abigail; 'your ladyship will pardon me in that, for I 
 never use them, unless a pair that belonged to my poor 
 mother, which I put on when your ladyship wants your 
 pinners curiously wrought. No woman above sixteen 
 ever did white-seam without barnacles. And then as to 
 suspecting, I suspect nothing ; for, as your ladyship hath 
 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 off the ends of them before she suffered 
 
 "5
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 them to escape) — only, madam, if Mistress Deborah 
 goes so often of a morning to Moultrassie 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 to have some sense ; let me know distinctly what the 
 matter is.' 
 
 'Only, madam,' pursued the abigail, 'that, since 
 Bridgenorth came back from Chesterfield, and saw you 
 at the castle hall. Mistress Deborah has been pleased 
 to carry the children every morning to 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 anything in hand be- 
 sides a piece of money, no doubt your ladyship is best 
 judge.' 
 
 Lady Peveril, who readily adopted the more good-na- 
 tured construction of the governante's motives, could 
 not help laughing at the idea of a man of Bridgenorth's 
 precise appearance, strict principles, and reserved habits 
 being suspected of a design of gallantry ; and readily con- 
 cluded that Mistress Deborah had found her advantage 
 in gratif }dng his parental ailection by a frequent sight of 
 his daughter during the few days which intervened be- 
 twixt his first seeing little Alice at the castle and the 
 events which had followed. But she was somewhat sur- 
 prised when, an hour after the usual breakfast-hour, 
 during which neither the child nor Mistress Deborah 
 appeared. Major Bridgenorth's only man-servant ar- 
 
 ii6
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 rived at the castle on horseback, dressed as for a journey, 
 and having delivered a letter addressed to herself, and 
 another to Mistress Ellesmere, rode away without wait- 
 ing any answer. 
 
 There would have been nothing remarkable in this, 
 had any other person been concerned ; but Major Bridge- 
 north was so very quiet and orderly in all his proceed- 
 ings, so little liable to act hastily or by impulse, that the 
 least appearance of bustle where he was concerned ex- 
 cited surprise and curiosity. 
 
 Lady Peveril broke her letter hastily open, and found 
 that it contained the following lines : — 
 
 For the hands of the Honourable and Honoured 
 Lady Peveril — These : 
 Madam — Please it your Ladyship, 
 
 I write more to excuse myself to your ladyship than 
 to accuse either you or others, in respect that I am sen- 
 sible it becomes our frail nature better to confess our 
 own imperfections than to complain of those of others. 
 Neither do I mean to speak of past times, particularly 
 in respect of your worthy ladyship, being sensible that if 
 I have served you in that period when our Israel might be 
 called 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 meeting, 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, in- 
 
 117
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 structed as she hath been under your ladyship's direc- 
 tion, is, it may be, indispensable to the health of my 
 dearest child. I had purposed, madam, with your gra- 
 cious permission, that Alice should have remained at 
 Martindale Castle, under your kind charge, until she 
 could so far discern 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 your- 
 self — 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 men. 
 
 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 setteth 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 souls. 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 wor- 
 ship was to be expected, it is my purpose to fiy from 
 the wrath to come, and to seek some corner where I may 
 
 ^Ii8
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 dwell in peace and enjoy liberty of conscience. For who 
 would abide in the sanctuary after the carved work 
 thereof is broken down, and 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 I 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 affection. 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 Peveril; 
 and that without any chance of my obtaining reparation 
 at his hand, whereby I may say the hand of a kinsman 
 was lifted up against my credit and my life. These things 
 are bitter to the taste of the old Adam; wherefore, to 
 prevent further bickerings, and, it may be, bloodshed, 
 it is better that I leave this land for a time. The affairs 
 which remain to be settled between Sir Geoffrey and 
 myself, I shall place in the hand of the righteous Master 
 Joachim Win- the-Fight, an attorney in Chester, who will 
 arrange them with such attention to Sir Geoffrey's con- 
 venience as justice and the due exercise of the law will 
 permit; for, as I trust 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 it through 
 the means of Mammon. 
 
 Wishing, madam, that the Lord may grant you every 
 119
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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. 
 
 Written at Moultrassie Hall this tenth day 
 of July 1660. 
 
 So soon as Lady Peveril had perused this long and 
 singular homily, in which it seemed to her that her neigh- 
 bour showed more spirit of religious fanaticism than she 
 could have supposed him possessed of, she looked up and 
 beheld Ellesmere with a countenance in which mortifi- 
 cation and an affected air of contempt seemed to strug- 
 gle 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 to shift the country. Truly, it 's time, indeed ; for, 
 besides that the whole neighbourhood would laugh him 
 to scorn, I should not be surprised if Lance Outram, the 
 keeper, gave him a buck's head to bear; for that is all in 
 the way of his oflSce.' 
 
 'There is no great occasion for your spite at present, 
 Ellesmere,' replied her lady. ' My letter says nothing of 
 marriage; but it would appear that Master Bridgenorth, 
 being to leave this country, has engaged Deborah to 
 take 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 Ellesmere; 'and, 
 indeed, for the sake of the whole house. And your lady- 
 
 120
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ship thinks she is not like to be married to him? Troth, 
 I could never see how he should be such an idiot; but 
 perhaps she is going to do worse, for she speaks here of 
 coming to high preferment, and that scarce comes by 
 honest servitude nowadays; then she writes me about 
 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 to recommend the dear little jewel to me; and 
 then, to speak of my age. But I will bundle away her 
 rags to the hall, with a witness!' 
 
 *Do it with all civility,' said the lady, 'and let Whit- 
 aker 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, Ellesmere, when I spoiled thee,' 
 said the lady; ' but tell Mrs. Deborah to kiss the little 
 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 attendant, without entering into further particulars. 
 
 When Ellesmere had withdrawn. Lady Peveril began 
 to reflect, with much feeling of compassion, on the letter 
 of Major Bridgenorth — a person in whom there were 
 certainly many excellent qualities, but whom a series of 
 domestic misfortunes, and the increasing gloom of a sin- 
 cere, yet stern, feeling of devotion, rendered lonely and 
 unhappy; and she had more than one anxious thought 
 for the happiness of the little Alice, brought up, as she 
 was likely to be, under such a father. Still the removal 
 
 121
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of Bridgenorth was, on the whole, a desirable event; for 
 while he remained at the hall, it was but too likely that 
 some accidental collision with Sir Geoffrey might give 
 rise to a rencontre betwixt them, more fatal than the 
 last had been. 
 
 In the meanwhile, she could not help expressing to Dr. 
 Dummerar her surprise and sorrow that all which she 
 had done and attempted to stablish peace and unanim- 
 ity 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, 'Bridge- 
 north would not have been at the castle on the morning 
 which succeeded the feast, would not have seen the 
 countess, and would not have incurred the resentment 
 and opposition of my husband. And but for the King's 
 return, an event which was so anxiously expected as the 
 termination of all our calamities, neither the noble lady 
 nor ourselves had been engaged in this new path of diffi- 
 culty and danger.' 
 
 'Honoured madam,' said Dr. Dummerar, 'were the 
 affairs of this world to be guided implicitly by human 
 wisdom, or were they uniformly to fall out according to 
 the conjectures of human foresight, events would no 
 longer be under the domination of that time and chance 
 which happen unto all men, since we should, in the one 
 case, work out our own purposes to a certainty, by our 
 own skill, and, in the other, regulate our conduct accord- 
 ing to the \aews of unerring prescience. But man is, 
 while in this vale of tears, like an uninstructed bowler, 
 so to speak, who thinks to attain the jack, by delivering 
 his bowl straight forward upon it, being ignorant that 
 
 122
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 there is a concealed bias within the spheroid, which will 
 make it, in all probability, swerve away and lose the 
 cast.' 
 
 Having spoken this with a sententious air, the 
 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 home- 
 ward 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, notwith- 
 standing the great deference he usually showed in cases 
 where Lady Peverilwas concerned, he heard of her liber- 
 ality towards the Presbyterian party with great indig- 
 nation. 
 
 '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, Hke a true man; but to 
 bring that snufHing scoundrel Solsgrace, with all his 
 beggarly, long-eared congregation, to hold a conventicle 
 in my father's house — to let them domineer it as they 
 listed — why, I would not have permitted them such 
 liberty when they held their head the highest! They 
 never, in the worst of times, found any way into Mar- 
 tindale Castle but what Noll's cannon made for them; 
 and, that they should come and cant there, when good 
 
 123
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 King Charles is returned, — by my hand, Dame Mar- 
 garet shall hear of it!' 
 
 But, notwithstanding these ireful resolutions, resent- 
 ment altogether subsided in the honest knight's breast 
 when he saw the fair features of his lady hghtened 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 smihng at the same time, 'and 
 thou knowest in what matter ; but I think thou art true 
 churchwoman, and didst only act from some silly wo- 
 manish fancy of keeping fair with these roguish Round- 
 heads. But let me have no more of this. I had rather 
 Martindale Castle were again rent by their bullets than 
 receive any of the knaves in the way of friendship. 
 I always except Ralph Bridgenorth of the hall, if he 
 should come to his senses again.' 
 
 Lady Peveril was here under the necessity of explain- 
 ing what she had heard of Master Bridgenorth — the 
 disappearance of the governante with his daughter, and 
 placed Bridgenorth's letter in his hand. Sir Geoffrey 
 shook his head at first, and then laughed extremely at 
 the idea that there was some little love-intrigue between 
 Bridgenorth and Mistress Deborah. 
 
 'It is the true end of a dissenter,' he said, 'to marry 
 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 to be affection 
 to his child.' 
 
 124
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ^ Pshaw! pshaw!' answered the knight, 'women are 
 eternally thinking of children; 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 
 Bridgenorth should marry the wench? Her father is a 
 substantial yeoman; 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 there 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 pecuUar 
 language in which it was couched. 'What he means by 
 moving of candlesticks, and breaking down of carved 
 work in the church, I cannot guess; unless he means to 
 bring back the large silver candlesticks which my 
 grandsire gave to be placed on the altar at Martindale- 
 Moultrassie, and which his crop-eared friends, Hke 
 sacrilegious villains as they are, stole and melted down. 
 And in Hke manner, the only breaking I know of was 
 when they pulled down the rails of the communion- 
 table, for which some of their fingers are hot enough by 
 this time, and when the brass ornaments were torn down 
 from the Peveril monuments; and that was breaking 
 and removing with a vengeance. However, dame, the 
 upshot is, that poor Bridgenorth is going to leave the 
 neighbourhood. I am truly sorry for it, though I never 
 saw him oftener 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, 
 
 125
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Meg, I did but lift him out of the saddle as I might have 
 lifted thee into it, Margaret. I was careful not to hurt 
 him ; and I did not think him so tender in point of hon- 
 our as to mind such a thing much. But I see plainly 
 where his sore lies; and I warrant you I will manage 
 that he stays at the hall, and that you get back Julian's 
 little companion. Faith, I am sorry myself at the 
 thought of losing the baby, and of having to choose 
 another ride when it is not hunting-weather than round 
 by the hall, with a word at the window.' 
 
 'I should be very glad. Sir Geoffrey,' said Lady 
 Peveril, 'that you could come to a reconcihation with 
 this worthy man, for such I must hold Master Bridge- 
 north 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 halts upon, 
 and you shall see him go as sound as ever.' 
 
 Lady Peveril had, from her sincere affection and 
 sound sense, as good a right to claim the full confidence 
 of her husband as any woman in Derbyshire; and, upon 
 this occasion, to confess the truth, she had more anxiety 
 to know his purpose than her sense of their mutual and 
 separate duties permitted her in general to entertain. 
 She could not imagine what mode of reconciliation with 
 his neighbour Sir Geoffrey (no very acute judge of man- 
 kind or their pecuharities) could have devised, which 
 might be not disclosed to her; and she felt some secret 
 anxiety lest the means resorted to might be so ill chosen 
 
 126
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 as to render the breach rather wider. But Sir Geoffrey 
 would give no opening for further inquiry. He had been 
 long enough colonel of a regiment abroad to value him- 
 self 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, 'Patience, Dame Mar- 
 garet — patience. This is no case for thy handling. 
 Thou shalt know enough on 't by and by, dame. Go, 
 look to Julian. Will the boy never have done crying for 
 lack of that Httle sprout of a Roundhead? But we will 
 have little 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 forth; for he had been placed in 
 authority so soon as the King's restoration was put upon 
 a settled basis. Upon opening the packet, which he did 
 with no small feehng of importance, he found that it 
 contained the warrant which he had solicited for re- 
 placing 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 enforced his doctrines in the 
 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 his castle; and for 
 his sake, without nicely distinguishing betwixt sects or 
 their teachers, he held all who mounted a pulpit with- 
 
 * See Note 6. 
 127
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 out warrant from the Church of England — perhaps 
 he might also in private except that of Rome — to be 
 disturbers of the public tranquillity, 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 dis- 
 Hke to Solsgrace, he saw much satisfaction in the task 
 of replacing his old friend and associate in sport and in 
 danger, the worthy Doctor Dummerar, in his legitimate 
 rights, and in the ease and comforts of his vicarage. He 
 communicated the contents of the packet, with great 
 triumph, to the lady, who now perceived the sense of 
 the mysterious paragraph in Major Bridgenorth's letter 
 concerning the removal of the candlestick, and the 
 extinction of Hght 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 with 
 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 Sols- 
 grace and his congregation, which circumstances ad- 
 mitted of. This, the lady argued, would be doing no 
 injury whatever to Dr. Dummerar — nay, might be the 
 means of reconciling many to his ministry, who might 
 otherwise be disgusted with it for ever, by the premature 
 expulsion of a favourite preacher. 
 
 There was much wisdom, as well as moderation, in 
 this advice; and, at another time, 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 
 
 128
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 to give it some appearance of persecution ; though, more 
 justly considered, it was the restoring of his predecessor 
 to his legal rights. Solsgrace himself seemed to be desir- 
 ous to make his sufferings as manifest as possible. He 
 held out to the last; and on the Sabbath after he 
 had received intimation of his ejection, attempted to 
 make his way to the pulpit as usual, supported by Mas- 
 ter 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 Cranbourne, and other Cavaliers 
 of distinction, entered at the other. 
 
 To prevent an actual struggle in the church, the par- 
 ish officers were sent to prevent the farther approach 
 of the Presbyterian minister; which was effected with- 
 out further damage than a broken head, inflicted by 
 Roger Raine, the drunken innkeeper of the Peveril 
 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 un- 
 aptly named), he attempted to maintain himself — 
 bolted gates, barred windows, and, as report said 
 (though falsely), made provision of firearms to resist 
 the ofiicers. A scene of clamour and scandal accordingly 
 took place, which being reported to Sir Geoffrey, he 
 came in person, with some of his attendants carrying 
 arms, forced the outer gate and inner doors of the house, 
 and, proceeding to the study, found no other garrison 
 «7 129
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 save the Presbyterian parson, with the attorney, who 
 gave up possession of the premises, after making protes- 
 tation against the violence 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 might be termed, safely through the tumult; 
 and accordingly conveyed them in person, through much 
 noise and clamour, as far as the avenue of Moultrassie 
 Hall, which they chose for the place of their retreat. 
 
 But 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 
 Peveril of the Peak. And finally, the boys, who bore the 
 ex-parson no good-will for his tyrannical interference 
 with their games at skittles, football, and so forth, and, 
 moreover, remembered the unmerciful length of his 
 sermons, dressed up an effigy with his Geneva gown and 
 band and his steeple-crowned hat, which they paraded 
 through the village, and burnt on the spot whilom occu- 
 pied by a stately Maypole, which Solsgrace had for- 
 merly 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; but the Calvinistical divine replied, 'From a 
 thread to a shoe-latchet, I will not take anything that is 
 thine. Let the shame of the work of thy hands abide 
 with thee.' 
 
 Considerable scandal, indeed, arose against Sir 
 130
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Geoffrey Peveril, as having proceeded with indecent 
 severity and haste upon this occasion ; and rumour took 
 care to make the usual additions to the reality. It was 
 currently reported that the desperate Cavalier, Peveril 
 of the Peak, had fallen on a Presbyterian congregation, 
 while engaged in the peaceable exercise of religion, with 
 a band of 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 beHeved 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. T is a challenge, sir, is it not? 
 Gentleman. 'T is 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 Hall, where the natural melancholy attend- 
 ant on his situation added to the gloom of the owner of 
 the mansion. In the morning, the ejected divine made 
 excursions to different families in the neighbourhood, to 
 whom his ministry had been acceptable in the days of 
 his prosperity, and from whose grateful recollections 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 muta- 
 tions of fortune. The piety of Mr. Solsgrace was sincere; 
 and if he had many of the uncharitable prejudices 
 against other sects which polemical controversy 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 httle, 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 
 
 132
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 contin- 
 ued cares might have directed into the right path — 
 these were of themselves deep causes of sorrow, and were 
 aggravated, doubtless, by those natural feelings with 
 which all men, especially those whose duties or habits 
 have confined them to a limited circle, regard the sepa- 
 ration 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 personal danger as being con- 
 siderable — 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 him- 
 self 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, 
 
 133
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 whose tongue hath testified, morning and evening, like 
 the watchman 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 testi- 
 mony at the stake or in the pulpit.' 
 
 Such were the sentiments which Mr. Solsgrace ex- 
 pressed to his desponding friends, and which he expati- 
 ated upon at more length with Major Bridgenorth ; not 
 failing, with friendly zeal, to rebuke the haste which the 
 latter had shown to thrust out the hand of fellowship 
 to the Amalekite woman, whereby he reminded him, 
 *He had been rendered her slave and bondsman for a 
 season, Hke 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 presence of the host.' 
 
 These objurgations seeming to give some offence to 
 Major Bridgenorth, who liked no better than any other 
 man to hear of his own mishaps, and at the same time to 
 have them imputed to his own misconduct, the worthy 
 divine proceeded to take shame to himself for his own 
 
 134
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 sinful compliance in that matter; for to the vengeance 
 justly due for that unhappy dinner at Martindale 
 Castle, 'which was/ he said, 'a crying of peace when 
 there was no peace, and a dwelHng in the tents of sin,' 
 he imputed his ejection from his living, with the destruc- 
 tion 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 devotional 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 con- 
 duct, 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 
 HberaHty of sentiments, into an action which had a ten- 
 dency to compromise his religious and pohtical prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 One morning, as Major Bridgenorth had wearied him- 
 self 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 natu- 
 ral 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.' 
 
 Solsgrace, who was in the apartment, and guessed 
 
 135
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 un- 
 clean birds, whom, contrary to their ravening nature, 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 was seldom that the echoes of that silent house and 
 courtyard were awakened by the trampKng of horses, 
 but such was now the case. 
 
 Both Bridgenorth and Solsgrace were surprised at the 
 sound, and even disposed to anticipate some further op- 
 pression on the part of government, when the major's 
 old servant introduced, with little ceremony (for his 
 manners were nearly as plain as his master's), a tall 
 gentleman on the further side of middle Ufe, 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 mes- 
 sage to Master Ralph Bridgenorth, of Moultrassie Hall, 
 by his honourable friend Sir Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak, 
 and that he requested to know whether Master Bridge- 
 north would be pleased to receive his acquittal of com- 
 mission here or elsewhere.' 
 
 'Anything which Sir Geoffrey Peveril can have to say 
 136
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 objectionable, 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 Bridge- 
 north, ' nor do I desire to have any, in which a clergyman 
 is an unfitting confidant.' 
 
 'At your pleasure,' replied Sir Jasper. 'The confi- 
 dence, for aught I know, may be well enough chosen, 
 for your divines — always 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 
 commission,' 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 Moultrassie Hall. Sir Geoffrey Peveril, Master 
 Bridgenorth, hath carefully considered with himself the 
 unhappy circumstances which at present separate you as 
 neighbours. And he remembers many passages in former 
 times — I speak his very words — which incline him to 
 do all that can possibly consist with his honour to wipe 
 out unkindness between you ; and for this desirable ob- 
 ject he is willing to condescend in a degree which, as you 
 could not have expected, it will no doubt give you great 
 pleasure to learn.' 
 
 137
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 '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 country; 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 Bridge- 
 north hath had enough of trafficking with the ungodly, 
 and will no longer, on any terms, consort with them.' 
 
 ' Gentlemen both,' said Sir Jasper, with imperturbable 
 politeness, bowing, 'you greatly mistake the tenor of 
 my commission, which you will do as well to hear out 
 before making any reply to it. I think. Master Bridge- 
 north, 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 difference betwixt his descent and rank 
 and your own, you would have sought to bring this mat- 
 ter to a gentlemanhke arbitrement, as the only mode 
 whereby your stain may be honourably wiped away. 
 Wherefore in this slight note, he gives you, in his gener- 
 osity, the offer of what you, in your modesty, for to no- 
 thing else does he impute your acquiescence, have de- 
 clined to demand of him. And withal, I bring you the 
 measure of his weapon ; 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 Author of Evil tempt my friend to accept of so 
 
 138 
 
 i
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 bloodthirsty a proposal, would be the first to pronounce 
 against him sentence of the greater excommunication.' 
 
 * It is not you whom I address, reverend sir/ replied the 
 envoy; '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 preference.' 
 
 So saying, and with a graceful bow, he again tendered 
 the challenge to Major Bridgenorth. There was obvi- 
 ously a struggle in that gentleman's bosom between the 
 suggestions of human honour and those of religious prin- 
 ciple; but the latter prevailed. He calmly waived re- 
 ceiving the paper which Sir Jasper offered to him, and 
 spoke to the following purpose : — 'It 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 justi- 
 fiable. 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 sur- 
 render our civil and religious rights into the hands of 
 whatsoever daring tyrants might usurp the same; yet 
 I am, and have been, inclined 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; or of our rights of property, and the 
 freedom of our laws and of our conscience, against usurp- 
 ing 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 remain in the scabbard, 
 when, having sustained a grievous injury, the man who 
 
 139
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 inflicted 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 Bridgenorth, take it not amiss if I 
 beseech you to bethink yourself better on this matter. 
 I vow to Heaven, sir, that your honour 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 tender sense of your 
 condition, and an earnest wish to redeem your dis- 
 honour. And it will be but the crossing of your blade 
 with his honoured sword for the space of some few min- 
 utes, 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 disarm you with some flesh wound, Httle to the 
 damage of your person, and greatly to the benefit of 
 your reputation.' 
 
 'The tender mercies of the wicked,' said Master Sols- 
 grace, emphatically, by way of commenting on this 
 speech, which Sir Jasper had uttered very pathetically, 
 'are cruel.' 
 
 'I pray to have no further interruption from your 
 reverence,' said Sir Jasper; 'especially as I think this 
 affair very little concerns you; and I entreat that you 
 permit me to discharge myself regularly of my commis- 
 sion from my worthy friend.' 
 
 So saying, he took his sheathed rapier from his belt, 
 and passing the point through the silk thread which se- 
 cured the letter, he once more, and literally at sword- 
 point, gracefully tendered it to Major Bridgenorth, 
 who again waived it aside, though colouring deeply at 
 
 140
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the same time, as if he was putting a marked constraint 
 upon himself, drew back, and made Sir Jasper Cran- 
 bourne a deep bow. 
 
 'Since it is to be thus/ said Sir Jasper, * I must myself 
 do violence to the seal of Sir Geoffrey's letter, and read 
 it to you, that I may fully acquit myself of the charge 
 entrusted to me, and make you. Master Bridgenorth, 
 equally aware of the generous intentions of Sir Geoffrey 
 on your behalf.' 
 
 *If,' said Major Bridgenorth, 'the contents of the 
 letter be to no other purpose than you have intimated, 
 methinks further ceremony is unnecessary on this occa- 
 sion, as I have already taken my course.' 
 
 'Nevertheless,' said Sir Jasper, breaking open the 
 letter, ' it is fitting that I read to you the letter of my wor- 
 shipful friend.' And he read accordingly as follows: — 
 
 For the worthy hands of Ralph Bridgenorth, Esquire, 
 
 of Moultrassie Hall — These : 
 By the honoured conveyance of the Worshipful Sir 
 Jasper Cranbourne, Knight, of Long MalUngton. 
 
 Master Bridgenorth — 
 
 We have been given to 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 honour should have been, in 
 some sort, prejudiced by what then took place. And al- 
 though you have not thought it fit to have direct re- 
 course 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 
 
 141
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 pur- 
 posed 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, whether 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 doubting that the 
 issue of this meeting must needs be to end, in one way 
 or other, all unkindness betwixt two near neighbours, 
 I remain, 
 Your humble servant to command, 
 
 Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak. 
 
 Given from my poor house of Martindale 
 
 Castle, this same of sixteen 
 
 himdred and sixty. 
 
 'Bear back my respects to Sir Geoffrey Peveril,' said 
 Major Bridgenorth. 'According to his hght, his mean- 
 ing may be fair towards me; but tell him that our quar- 
 rel had its rise in his own wilful aggression towards me ; 
 and that, though I wish to be in charity with all man- 
 kind, I am not so wedded to his friendship as to break 
 the laws of God, and run the risk of suffering or commit- 
 ting murder, in order to regain it. And for you, sir, me- 
 thinks your advanced years and past misfortunes might 
 teach you the folly of coming on such idle errands.' 
 
 142
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 '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 remem- 
 bered, by a man of honour. In the meanwhile, in return 
 for your uncivil advice, be pleased to accept of mine — 
 namely, that as your religion prevents your giving a 
 gentleman satisfaction, it ought to make you very cau- 
 tious 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 Geof- 
 frey put his hat on his head, replaced his rapier in its 
 belt, and left the apartment. In a few minutes after- 
 wards the tread of his horse died away at a considerable 
 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 this answer to Martindale Castle,' 
 he said. 'Men will hereafter think of me as a whipped, 
 beaten, dishonourable fellow, whom every one may 
 bafiie and insult at their pleasure. It is well I am leav- 
 ing the house of my father.' 
 
 Master Solsgrace approached his friend with much 
 sympathy, and grasped him by the hand. 'Noble bro- 
 ther,' he said, with unwonted 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 darhng 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 sUghtest remnant 
 
 143
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of the accursed thing remain hidden in our tent? Would 
 it be a defence in thy prayers to say, " I have not mur- 
 dered 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 be- 
 cause the imperious voice of worldly honour said, * Go 
 forth — kill or be killed — is it not I that 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 Hea- 
 ven, which enabled thee to resist the strong tempta- 
 tion.' 
 
 'Reverend and dear friend,' answered Bridgenorth, 
 *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 com- 
 municated 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 Geof- 
 frey; *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 done a folly for him that I will never 
 do for another; and that is, to think a Presbyterian 
 would fight without his preacher's permission. Give 
 
 144
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 Hke threshers; but for a calm, 
 cool, gentlemanHke turn upon the sod, hand to hand, in 
 a neighbourly way, they have not honour enough to un- 
 dertake it. But enough of our crop-eared cur of a neigh- 
 bour. Sir Jasper, you will tarry with us to dine, and see 
 how Dame Margaret's kitchen smokes; and after dinner 
 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 
 growhng of the thunderstorm, 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 Mr. Bridgenorth, attempted to open; 
 and she blessed God internally that it had not termin- 
 ated in bloodshed. But these reflections she locked 
 carefully within her own bosom, well knowing that they 
 referred to subjects in which the knight of the Peak 
 would neither permit his sagacity to be called in ques- 
 tion nor his will to be controlled. 
 
 The progress of the history hath hitherto been slow; 
 but after this period so little matter worthy of mark oc- 
 curred at Martindale that we must hurry over hastily 
 the transactions of several years. 
 
 «7
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Cleopatra. 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 Httle w^hen her plans of economy were 
 interrupted by the liberal hospitality which was her 
 husband's principal expense, and to which he was 
 attached, not only from his own English heartiness of 
 disposition, but from ideas of maintaining the dignity 
 of his ancestry — no less remarkable, 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 Bridgenorth continued, it is true, un- 
 abated; but he was the only creditor upon the Martin- 
 dale estate, all others being paid off. It would have been 
 most desirable that this encumbrance also should be 
 
 146
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 principal sum, which was 
 a large one, might be called for at an inconvenient time. 
 The man, too, was gloomy, important, and mysterious, 
 and always seemed as if he was thinking upon his broken 
 head in the churchyard of Martindale cum Moultrassie. 
 
 Dame Margaret sometimes transacted the necessary 
 business with him in person; and when he came to the 
 castle on these occasions, she thought she saw a mali- 
 cious and disobliging expression in his manner and coun- 
 tenance. 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 employer, concerning whose welfare 
 she could not help feeling a certain anxiety. 
 
 Shortly after the failure of the singular negotiation 
 for attaining peace by combat which Peveril had at- 
 tempted to open with Major Bridgenorth, that gentle- 
 man left his seat of Moultrassie 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 governante; to these was added the Reverend 
 Master Solsgrace. For some time pubHc rumour per- 
 sisted in asserting that Major Bridgenorth 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 
 
 147
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of the neighbourhood be ended, ere he brought her down 
 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 antipathies of worthy Master Nehemiah 
 Solsgrace, it was resolved unanimously that nothing 
 less than what they might deem a fair chance of con- 
 verting the Pope would have induced the parties to 
 trust themselves within CathoHc dominions. The most 
 prevailing opinion was, that they had gone to New Eng- 
 land, the refuge then of many whom too intimate con- 
 cern with the affairs of the late times, or the desire of 
 enjoying uncontrolled freedom of conscience, had in- 
 duced to emigrate from Britain. 
 
 Lady Peveril could not help entertaining a vague idea 
 that Bridgenorth was not so distant. The extreme order 
 in which everything was maintained at Moultrassie 
 Hall seemed — no disparagement to the care of Dame 
 Dickens, the housekeeper, and the other persons en- 
 gaged — to argue that the master's eye was not so very 
 far off but that its occasional inspection might be appre- 
 hended. It is true, that neither the domestics nor the 
 attorney answered any questions respecting the resi- 
 dence of Master Bridgenorth; but there was an air of 
 mystery about them 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 walking around every part of 
 
 148
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the neighbourhood unattended, or only accompanied by 
 EUesmere or her little boy, had gone down one evening 
 upon a charitable errand to a solitary hut, whose inhab- 
 itant lay sick of a fever, which was supposed to be infec- 
 tious. 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 hesi- 
 tate 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 autumn 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 better than two 
 miles, but might be considerably abridged by passing 
 through an avenue belonging to the estate of Moul- 
 trassie 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 in the more important concerns of the 
 family, made a point of never interfering with her hus- 
 band's whims or prejudices; and it is a compromise 
 
 149
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 
 Dobby's Walk was within the inhibited domains of the 
 hall, the Lady Peveril 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, 
 whisthng 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 symp- 
 toms 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 teeth chattered in 
 his head, and that his whole person exhibited great signs 
 of terror, began to recollect the report that the first 
 squire of Moultrassie, the brewer of Chesterfield, who 
 had bought the estate, and then died of melancholy 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 particular 
 favourite of the ex-brewer. To have expected any pro- 
 tection from her escort, in the condition to which super- 
 stitious fear had reduced him, would have been truly a 
 hopeless trust; and Lady Peveril, who was not appre- 
 hensive of any danger, thought there would be great 
 cruelty in dragging the cowardly boy into a scene which 
 
 150
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 he regarded with so much apprehension. She gave him, 
 therefore, a silver piece, and permitted him to return. 
 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 hght 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 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 pre- 
 mature death — the despair of her self -banished hus- 
 band — 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 checkered light which found 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, 
 
 151
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 gave one startled throb, as a debt to the superstitious 
 belief of the times, but she instantly repelled the 
 thought of supernatural appearances. From those that 
 were merely mortal she had nothing to fear. A marauder 
 on the game was the worst character whom she was 
 hkely to encounter; and he would be sure to hide him- 
 self 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 mend- 
 ing her pace, and that with so little precaution, that, 
 stimibHng over the Hmb 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; 'and, if my ear deceive me not, I speak to Master 
 Bridgenorth.' 
 
 *I was that man,' he repHed, '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; 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 was now? ' 
 
 152
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Of god-daughter, madam/ answered Major Bridge- 
 north, *I know nothing; that being one of the names 
 which have been introduced to the corruption and pol- 
 lution 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 recollec- 
 tion of these passages which in a manner impelled me, 
 alarmed also by your fall, to offer myself to you in this 
 time and mode, which in other respects is no way 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 Bridge- 
 north. ' 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 it all my 
 thoughts, all my actions, save formal observances, little 
 
 153
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 deeming what was the duty of a Christian man, and 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 cir- 
 cumstances in which he might lately have been engaged 
 had blown into a flame the spark of eccentricity which 
 always smouldered in his bosom. This was the more 
 probable, considering that he was melancholy by consti- 
 tution and descent, 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 therefore an- 
 swered him by calmly hoping, 'That the expression of 
 his sentiments had not involved him in suspicion or in 
 danger.' 
 
 154
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 '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 Bridge- 
 north,' said the lady, who now felt rather anxious to 
 be reheved from his company, 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 earth with great wrath, because his time 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 equally ready to stoop to Rome, 
 were he not kept in awe by a few noble spirits in the 
 Commons' House? You believe not this; yet in my 
 soHtary and midnight walks, when I thought on your 
 kindness to the dead and to the Hving, 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 to be moderate in these sentiments — compara- 
 tively moderate, at least — and to love your own reK- 
 gion, without hating that of others.' 
 
 ' What I was while in the gall of bitterness and in the 
 bond of iniquity, it signifies not to recall,' answered he. 
 
 155
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *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 earth- 
 ward, 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 earth ; 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 cham- 
 pion 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 Hfe 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 communi- 
 cation with a pubKc road, or rather pathway, running 
 through an uninclosed 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 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, 
 
 156
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 amidst the flood of light which it poured on the vener- 
 able 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 rid- 
 den from London, and brought with me a protection 
 from the committee for your husband; 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 before you. I leaped from 
 my horse ; to her I was a husband — to those a father — 
 to 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 Bridge- 
 north,' 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 afEictions. But does 
 not every Christian creed teach us alike that afEiction 
 should soften our heart? ' 
 
 'Ay, woman,' said Bridgenorth, sternly, 'as the light- 
 ning which shattered yonder oak hath softened its trunk. 
 No ; the seared wood is the fitter for the use of the work- 
 men ; 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 profli- 
 gacy of the dissolute — the scoffing of the profane — the 
 contempt 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 
 
 157
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Peveril, compelling 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 times. But let 
 us trust it may be corrected without such violent reme- 
 dies 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 desperate alternative.' 
 
 'Sharp, but sure,' replied Bridgenorth. 'The blood 
 of the Paschal lamb chased away the destroying angel; 
 the sacrifices offered on the threshing-floor of Araunah 
 stayed the pestilence. Fire and sword are severe reme- 
 dies, but they purge and purify.' 
 
 'Alas! Major Bridgenorth,' said the lady, 'wise and 
 moderate 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 un- 
 usual 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 gentle- 
 men of his station in Hfe. There seemed also something 
 of more stern determination than usual in his air, which 
 indeed had always been rather sullen than affable; and
 
 PEVERn. OF THE PEAK 
 
 ere she could repress the sentiment, she could not help 
 saying, 'Master Bridgenorth, 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, I 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 Usten to your advice concerning JuHan, although 
 I should not perhaps incline to it.' 
 
 'That more suitable time may never come,' replied 
 Bridgenorth. 'Time wanes, eternity draws nigh. 
 Hearken! It is said to be your purpose to send the 
 young JuHan 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 think- 
 ing harshly of my cousin of Derby,' said Lady Peveril; 
 'nor do I altogether vindicate the rash action of which 
 she hath been guilty. Nevertheless, in her habitation, 
 it is my husband's opinion and my own that Julian may 
 be trained in the studies and accomplishments becoming 
 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 quick- 
 
 159
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sighted in matters of earthly 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 
 ambition. A thousand baits for each taste, and each 
 bait concealing the same deadly hook.' 
 
 *I am well aware, Master Bridgenorth,' 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 scaffold, 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 under- 
 stand what is alone worthy to be heard, seen, and known? 
 Pity, that what hath been wrought so fair and exquisite 
 in form and disposition should be yet bhnd, deaf, and 
 ignorant, like the things which perish! ' 
 
 'We shall not agree on these subjects, Master Bridge- 
 north,' said the lady, anxious still to escape from this 
 strange conference, though scarce knowing what to 
 apprehend; 'once more, I must bid you farewell.' 
 
 1 I have elsewhere noticed that this is a deviation from the truth: 
 Charlotte Countess of Derby was a Huguenot. 
 
 1 60
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Stay yet an instant,' he said, again laying his hand 
 on her arm ; ' I would stop 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 un- 
 believing mind? Shall I tell you that the debt of blood- 
 shed 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 penalty 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 
 
 I a man as Christian — a man precious alike to Heaven 
 
 and to earth? Not on such terms is the blood of the 
 
 I 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 bloodthirsty 
 
 woman.' 
 
 I At this moment, the distant tread of horses was heard 
 
 on the road on which they held this singular dialogue. 
 
 Bridgenorth listened a moment, and then said, 'Forget 
 
 I that you have seen me — name not my name to your 
 
 nearest or dearest — lock my counsel in your breast — 
 
 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, 
 27 i6i
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 whose forms rose indistinctly on the summit of the 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 they advanced with 
 the cry of ' Stand ! 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, recog- 
 nised one of her own servants. Her husband rode up 
 immediately afterwards, with 'How now, Dame Mar- 
 garet? 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, it may be, that her husband 
 might be displeased with that incident. 
 
 ' Charity is a fine thing, and a fair,' answered Sir Geof- 
 frey; 'but I must tell you, you do ill, dame, to wander 
 about the country 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.' 
 
 'News!' 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. 
 
 ' The celebrated insurrection of the Anabaptists and Fifth Monarchy 
 men in London, in the year 1661. 
 
 162
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *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 
 Martindale 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; 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. 
 
 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 in- 
 surrection amongst the old Commonwealth men, espe- 
 cially those who had served in the army; and that Bridge- 
 north, 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 suspicion.^ 
 
 About this time also, Lady Peveril, with many tears, 
 took a temporary leave of her son Julian, who was sent, 
 
 * See Note 7. 
 163
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 as had long been intended, 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 pa- 
 tronage 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 Peveril 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 Continent 
 with the young earl. This was the more especially 
 necessary for the enlarging of their acquaintance with 
 the world, 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 Eng- 
 land and in that island. 
 
 This had given to the education of both the young men, 
 otherwise 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 hghter and 
 more volatile than that of Julian, both the one and the 
 other had profited, in a considerable degree, by the op- 
 portunities afforded them. It was Lady Derby's strict 
 injunction to her son, now returning from the Continent, 
 that he should not appear at the court of Charles. But 
 having been for some time 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 
 
 164
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 pleasures of the gay court there, with all the ardour of 
 a young man bred up in comparative seclusion. 
 
 In order to reconcile the countess to this transgression 
 of her authority, for he continued 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. 
 
 JuHan Peveril had spent at Martindale Castle a good 
 deal of the time which his friend had bestowed in Lon- 
 don; and at the period to which, passing over many 
 years, our story has arrived, as it were, per saltum, they 
 were both living, as the countess's guests, in the Castle 
 of Rushin, in the venerable kingdom of Man.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Mona, long hid from those who roam the main. 
 
 Collins. 
 
 The Isle of Man, in the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, 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 uni- 
 form tenor. There were no smart fellows, whom for- 
 tune had tumbled from the seat of their barouches, no 
 plucked pigeons or winged rooks, no disappointed specu- 
 lators, no ruined miners — in short, no one worth talk- 
 ing to. The society of the island was limited to the 
 natives themselves, and a few merchants, who Hved by 
 contraband trade. The amusements were rare and mo- 
 notonous, and the mercurial young earl was soon heart- 
 ily tired of his dominions. The islanders also, become 
 too wise for happiness, had 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 returning winter and advancing spring; the listeners 
 no longer sympathised with the Uvely music of the fol- 
 lowers 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 jan- 
 gled forth a dissonant peal. The wren, to seek for which 
 used to be the sport dedicated to the holytide, was left 
 
 1 66
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 iinpursued 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 
 sport generally interesting to people of all ranks, were 
 no longer performed, because they were no longer inter- 
 esting. The gentlemen were divided by feuds hitherto 
 unknown, and each seemed to hold it scorn to be pleased 
 with the same diversions that amused those of the oppo- 
 site 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 vin- 
 dictively executed, started horses to add to the amuse- 
 ment.^ 
 
 Juhan 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 sur- 
 veying 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 whisthng, now swinging on his chair, now 
 traversing the room, till at length his attention became 
 swallowed up in admiration of the tranquillity of his 
 companion. 
 
 'King of men!' he said, repeating the favourite epi- 
 thet by which Homer describes Agamemnon — ' I trust 
 for the old Greek's sake, he had a merrier office than 
 being King of Man. Most philosophical Julian, will 
 nothing rouse thee, not even a bad pun on my own royal 
 dignity? ' 
 
 » See Note 8, 
 
 167
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'I wish you would be a little more the King in Man/ 
 said Julian, 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 play- 
 ing 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 ; 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, unless 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 Julian; 'and I 
 wonder you will speak of it.' 
 
 ' Why, I bear no mahce against the poor man's mem- 
 ory any more than yourself, though I have not the same 
 reasons for holding it in veneration,' replied the Earl of 
 Derby; ' and yet I have some respect for it too. I remem- 
 ber their bringing him out to die. It was the first holi- 
 day I ever had in my Hfe, and I heartily wish it had been 
 on some other account.' 
 
 'I would rather hear you speak of anything else, my 
 lord,' said Julian. 
 
 'Why, there it goes,' answered the earl; 'whenever I 
 i68
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 talk of anything 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? O 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 — the 
 playhouses, Julian! both the King's house and the 
 Duke's — Louis's establishment is a jest to them; and 
 the Ring in the Park, which beats the Corso at Naples; 
 and the beauties, who beat the whole world!' 
 
 * I am very willing to hear you speak on the subject, 
 my lord,' answered Julian; '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 
 Buckingham, and Sedley, and Etherege, or with the 
 grace of Harry Jermyn, the courtesy of the Duke of 
 Monmouth, or with the loveliness of La Belle Hamilton, 
 
 of the Duchess of Richmond, of Lady , the person 
 
 of Roxalana, 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, 
 
 169
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 except that she is as capricious as her whole sex put 
 together.' 
 
 'That I should think a small recommendation,' an- 
 swered his companion. 
 
 'Small, do you term it,' rephed 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 Hvely salmon, that 
 makes your rod crack and your Hne whistle — plays 
 you ten thousand mischievous pranks — wearies your 
 heart out with hopes and fears — and is only laid pant- 
 ing on the bank after you have shown the most unmatch- 
 able display of skill, patience, and dexterity? But I see 
 you have a mind to go on angling after your own old 
 fashion. Off laced coat, and on brown jerkin; lively 
 colours scare fish in the sober waters of the Isle of Man ; 
 faith, in London you will catch few, unless the bait 
 glistens a little. But you are going? well, good luck to 
 you. I will take to the barge; the sea and wind are less 
 inconstant than the tide you have embarked on.' 
 
 * You have learned to- say all these smart things in 
 London, my lord,' answered Julian; 'but we shall have 
 you a penitent for them, 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 angling. The hat and 
 feather were exchanged for a cap of grey cloth; the 
 deeply laced cloak and doublet for a simple jacket of 
 the same colour, with hose conforming; and finally, 
 
 170
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 that 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 Httle steed graze, which, 
 accustomed to the situation, 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 JuHan brought them 
 strugghng 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, indeed, with an 
 angler's eye, the most promising casts, where the stream 
 broke sparkling over a stone, affording the wonted shel- 
 ter to a trout; or where, ghding 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 whereon 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 time, 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 occasion- 
 ally traversed, and that it was not altogether void of 
 
 171
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 brook, was entirely covered with rich 
 herbage, being possibly occasionally 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 times 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 con- 
 sisted of dry stones, and its materials had been appHed 
 to the construction of the present mansion — the work 
 of some churchman during the i6th century, as was 
 evident from the huge stonework of its windows, which 
 scarce left room for Kght to pass through, as well as 
 from two or three heavy buttresses, which projected 
 from the front of the house, and exhibited on their sur- 
 face little niches for images. These had been carefully 
 destroyed, and pots of flowers were placed in the niches 
 in their stead, besides their being ornamented by creep- 
 ing plants of various kinds, fancifully twined around 
 them. The garden was also in good order; and though 
 the spot was extremely solitary, there was about it 
 altogether an air of comfort, accommodation, and even 
 elegance, by no means generally characteristic of the 
 habitations of the island at the time. 
 
 With much circumspection, JuKan Peveril approached 
 the low Gothic porch, which defended the entrance of 
 
 172
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the mansion from the tempests incident to its situation, 
 and was, like the buttresses, over-run with ivy and other 
 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 pur- 
 pose of a knocker; and to this he appHed 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 Uttle 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 
 
 R windows which we have mentioned, with its small lat- 
 ticed panes, and thick garland of foliage, admitting but 
 an imperfect light. 
 Over the chimney-piece, which was of the same mas- 
 
 j sive materials with the panelling of the apartment, was 
 the only ornament of the room — a painting, namely, 
 
 I 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; his short band, which 
 hung down on the cuirass, the orange-coloured scarf, 
 but, above all, the shortness of his close-cut hair, show- 
 ing evidently to which of the great parties he had be- 
 longed. His right hand rested on the hilt of his sword; 
 and in the left he held a small Bible, bearing the inscrip- 
 
 173
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tion, 'In hoc signo.' The countenance was of a light 
 complexion, with fair and almost effeminate blue eyes, 
 and an oval form of face ; one of those physiognomies to 
 which, though not otherwise 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. Mas- 
 ter Peveril, in spite of all the warnings you have had! 
 You here, in the possession of folks' house when they 
 are abroad, and talking to yourself, as I shall warrant!' 
 
 * 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 satisfy yourself of that,' answered Mistress De- 
 borah, for it was that respectable governante; and sink- 
 ing 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 inti- 
 mated a considerable 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 EUesmere at 
 Martindale Castle. In a word, she was self-willed, obsti- 
 nate, and coquettish as ever, otherwise no ill-disposed 
 ' See Note 9. 
 174
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 person. Her present appearance was that of a woman of 
 the better rank. From the sobriety of the fashion of her 
 dress, and the uniformity of its colours, it was plain she 
 belonged to some sect which condemned superfluous 
 gaiety in attire ; but no rules, not those of a nunnery or 
 of a Quaker's society, can prevent a Httle coquetry in 
 that particular, where a woman is desirous of being 
 supposed to retain some claim to personal attention. All 
 Mistress Deborah's garments were so arranged as might 
 best set off a good-looking woman, whose countenance 
 indicated ease and good cheer, who called herself five- 
 and-thirty, and was well entitled, if she had a mind, to 
 call herself twelve or fifteen years older. 
 
 JuHan 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 them forward, snuffed at a 
 little bottle of essences, closed her eyes Hke a dying fowl, 
 turned them up hke 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 Juhan Peveril; for if Dame 
 Christian should learn that you have chosen to make 
 your visits to her niece, I promise you Mistress Ahce 
 would be soon obliged to find other quarters, and so 
 should I.' 
 
 'Come now. Mistress Deborah, be good-humoured,' 
 said Juhan; 'consider, was not all this intimacy of ours 
 of your own making? Did you not make yourself 
 known to me the ver^' first time I strolled up this glen 
 with my fishing-rod, and tell me that you were my for- 
 
 175
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 mer keeper, and that Alice had been my little playfel- 
 low? 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.' 
 
 ' To do 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 very well 
 considered both what he was going to say and how he 
 was going to say it, before he came out with such pro- 
 posals 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- 
 natured, 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!' ejacu- 
 lated 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 honest yeomanry of 
 Peveril of the Peak's estate, to wish that it was all within 
 the ring fence again; which sure enough it might be, 
 
 176
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 were you to marry Alice Bridgenorth. But then there 
 is the knight your father and my lady your mother; 
 and there is her father, that is half crazy with his reli- 
 gion; and her aunt, that wears eternal black grogram 
 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 anything that would 
 displease her. And besides all that, you have broke your 
 word with Mistress Alice, and everything 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 are the best-natured, kindest creature in the 
 
 ' world, Deborah. But you have never seen the ring I 
 
 bought for you at Paris. Nay, I will put it on your 
 
 ll finger myself ; what ! your foster-son, whom you loved so 
 
 well, and took such care of!' 
 
 He easily succeeded in putting a pretty ring of gold, 
 with a humorous affectation of gallantry, on the fat 
 finger of Mistress Deborah Debbitch. Hers was a soul 
 I of a kind often to be met with, both among the lower 
 j 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 deny- 
 
 27 177
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ing anything to such a young gentleman as you, for 
 young gentlemen are always so obstinate ! and so I may 
 as well tell you that Mistress Alice walked back from 
 Kirk-Truagh along with me just now, and entered the 
 house at the same time with myself.' 
 
 'Why did you not tell me so before?' said Julian, 
 starting 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 little 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 I have no doubt 
 to get over all obstacles at Martindale Castle.' 
 
 'Nay, I 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 key turned and bolts 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 ! ' 
 
 'O, the Father!' said the dame, 'hear how he talks! 
 
 178
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 What will 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 better than she says, 
 and I know she used to sit and look the way that you 
 used 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 solitude 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 ex- 
 tended the other, in the act of bidding adieu to Dame 
 Debbitch, whose kind heart became unable to with- 
 stand the sight of his affliction. 
 
 'Now, do not be in such haste,' she said; 'I will go up 
 again, and tell her how it stands 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 agitation, waiting the success of Deborah's inter- 
 cession ; 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.
 
 I 
 
 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 celebrated passage which we have prefixed to this 
 chapter has, Uke most observations of the same author, 
 its foundation in real experience. The period at which 
 love is formed for the first time, and felt most strongly, 
 is seldom that at which there is much prospect of its 
 being brought to a happy issue. The state of artificial 
 society opposes many complicated obstructions to early 
 marriages; and the chance is very great that such 
 obstacles prove insurmountable. 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 affection was 
 repulsed, or betrayed, or became abortive from oppos- 
 ing circumstances. It is these little passages of secret 
 history which leave a tinge of romance in every bosom, 
 scarce permitting us, even in the most busy or the most 
 advanced period of life, to listen with total indifference 
 to a tale of true love. 
 
 Juhan Peveril had so fixed his affections as to ensure 
 the fullest share of that opposition which early attach- 
 ments are so apt to encounter. 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 
 
 1 80
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the valley in which she resided with Alice Bridgenorth. 
 The dame's curiosity easily discovered who he was; and 
 besides the interest which persons in her condition usu- 
 ally take in the young people 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 Outram, the park-keeper. 
 
 The mere pleasure of gratifying her inquiries would 
 scarce have had power enough to induce Julian to repeat 
 his visits to the lonely glen; but Deborah had a com- 
 panion — a lovely girl — bred in solitude, and in the 
 quiet and unpretending tastes which solitude encour- 
 ages — 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. 
 
 Tlie visits of Julian to the Black Fort were only occa- 
 sional; so far Dame Deborah showed common sense, 
 which was, perhaps, inspired by the apprehension of 
 losing her place, in case of discovery. She had, indeed, 
 great confidence in the strong and rooted belief, amount- 
 ing almost to superstition, which Major Bridgenorth 
 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 hinting at certain mysterious rules necessary to 
 maintain it in the present favourable state. She had 
 availed herself of this artifice to procure for herself and 
 
 i8i
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 with the sister-in-law of his deceased wife, 
 the widow of the unfortunate Colonel Christian. But 
 this lady was broken down with premature age, brought 
 on by sorrow; and, in a short visit which Major Bridge- 
 north 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 independence, was careful to increase this 
 impression by alarming her patron's fears on account of 
 Alice's health. The mansion of Kirk-Truagh stood, she 
 said, much exposed to the 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, she prevailed, and was put into full possession 
 of the Black Fort — a house which, as well as Kirk- 
 Truagh, belonged formerly to Christian, and now to his 
 widow. 
 
 Still, however, it was enjoined on the governante and 
 her charge to visit Kirk-Truagh from time to time, and 
 to consider themselves as under the management and 
 guardianship of Mistress Christian — a state of subjec- 
 tion the sense of which Deborah endeavoured to lessen 
 by assuming as much freedom of conduct as she possibly 
 dared, under the influence, doubtless, of the same feel- 
 ings of independence which induced her, at Martin- 
 dale Hall, to spurn the advice 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 Puritanism 
 
 182
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 would have proscribed. She ventured to have her charge 
 taught music — nay, even dancing; and the picture of 
 the stern 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 the colonel's widow, 
 and by her was communicated to Bridgenorth, whose 
 sudden appearance in the island showed the importance 
 he attached to the communication. Had she been faith- 
 less 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 states 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 the 
 viol, began to jangle Sellenger's round, and desired 
 Alice to dance an old English measure to the tune. As 
 the half-bashful, half-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 
 
 183
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 leave, without one single word further interdicting the 
 exercise of dancing. He did not himself communicate 
 the result of his visit at the Black Fort to Mistress 
 Christian, but she was 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 hath permitted you to make a Herodias 
 of Alice, and teach 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 form- 
 ality 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 Debbitch and 
 Alice to manage both education and housekeeping — 
 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 visited their habitation; and he was the 
 rather encouraged to do so by Dame Deborah, that she 
 believed him to be one of the last persons in the world 
 with whom Mistress Christian would have desired her 
 niece to be acquainted — the happy spirit of contradic- 
 tion superseding, with Dame Deborah, on this as on 
 other occasions, all consideration of the fitness of things. 
 She did not act altogether without precaution neither. 
 She was aware she had to guard not only against any
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 reviving interest or curiosity on the part of Mistress 
 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 to remain there for a few days. Dame Debbitch, 
 therefore, exacted of Julian 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; 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 
 entirely unnoticed, or considered as immaterial, while, 
 in the meantime, 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 com- 
 municate to Julian who Miss Bridgenorth actually was, 
 and the peculiar 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 sub- 
 ject of Bridgenorth's quarrel with his father had 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 
 
 185
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the Black Fort and its fair inmate, he frankly declared, 
 he considered his intimacy there, so casually com- 
 menced, as intimating the will of Heaven that Alice and 
 he were designed for each other, in spite of every obsta- 
 cle 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 child- 
 ish grief for the unexpected and sudden disappearance 
 of his little companion, whom he was destined again to 
 meet with in the early bloom of opening beauty, in a 
 country which was foreign to them both. 
 
 Dame Deborah was confounded at the consequences 
 of her communication, 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 remonstrances 
 of passionate attachment, whether addressed to her on 
 her own account or on behalf of another. She lamented 
 and wondered, and ended her feeble opposition by weep- 
 ing, and S}'Tnpathising, and consenting to allow the con- 
 tinuance of Julian's visits, provided he should only ad- 
 dress himself to Alice as a friend; to gain the world, she 
 would consent to nothing more. She was not, however, 
 so simple, but that she also had her forebodings of the 
 designs of Providence on this youthful couple ; for cer- 
 tainly they could not be more formed to be united than 
 the good estates of Martindale and Moultrassie. 
 
 Then came a long sequence of reflections. Martindale 
 Castle wanted but some repairs to be almost equal to 
 Chatsworth. The hall might be allowed to go to ruin; 
 or, what would be better, when Sir Geoffrey's time came, 
 for the good knight had seen service, and must be break- 
 
 i86
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ing now, the hall would be a good dowry-house, to which 
 my lady and Ellesmere might retreat; while, empress 
 of the still-room and queen of the pantry. Mistress 
 Deborah Debbitch should reign housekeeper at the cas- 
 tle, and extend, perhaps, the crown-matrimonial to 
 Lance Outram, 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 differ- 
 ent, her charge and her visitant. 
 
 The visits of the young angler became more and more 
 frequent; and the embarrassed Deborah, though fore- 
 seeing all the dangers of discovery, and the additional 
 risk of an explanation betwixt Alice and Julian, which 
 must necessarily render their relative situation so much 
 more delicate, felt completely overborne by the enthu- 
 siasm of the young lover, and was compelled to let mat- 
 ters 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 Bridge- 
 north'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 re- 
 tained in her possession for some time a letter which 
 Julian had, by some private conveyance, sent to her 
 charge, for his youthful friend. Deborah had dreaded 
 the consequences of delivering it as a billet-doux, but, 
 
 187
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 de- 
 lighted 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 liberality and confidence from a 
 man of Major Bridgenorth's reserved and cautious dis- 
 position 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 became suspicious of his frequent solitary fishing- 
 parties; and he himself, 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 attachment, but be of essential prejudice 
 to her who was its object. 
 
 Under the influence of 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 energetic words to explain to Alice at once his
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 between their 
 families; for hitherto all that she had known was that 
 Master Peveril, belonging to the household of the great 
 Countess or Lady of Man, must observe some precau- 
 tions in visiting a relative of the unhappy Colonel 
 Christian. But, when Julian concluded his tale with the 
 warmest protestations of eternal love, ' My poor father ! ' 
 she burst forth, 'and was this to be the 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 father — that he kneels to you 
 for forgiveness of injuries which passed when we were 
 both infants, shows the will of Heaven that in our affec- 
 tion should be quenched the discord of our parents. 
 What else could lead those who parted infants on the 
 hills of Derbyshire to meet thus in the valleys of Man?' 
 
 Alice, however new such a scene, and, above all, her 
 own emotions, might be, was highly endowed with that 
 exquisite dehcacy which is imprinted in the female heart, 
 to give warning of the sHghtest approach to impropriety 
 in a situation like hers. 
 
 'Rise — rise. Master Peveril,' she said; 'do not do 
 yourself and me this injustice; we have done both 
 wrong — very wrong; but my fault was done in ignor- 
 ance. God! my poor father, who needs comfort so 
 
 189
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 much — is it for me to add to his misfortunes? Rise!' 
 she added, more firmly; 'if 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 impetu- 
 osity of her lover, who took in silence a seat removed to 
 some distance from hers, and was again about to 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 for ever ! but the hour of wakening is arrived.' Pev- 
 eril waited the prosecution of her speech as a criminal 
 while he waits his doom ; for he was sufficiently sensible 
 that an answer, delivered not certainly without emo- 
 tion, but with firmness and resolution, was not to be in- 
 terrupted. 'We have done 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 further intercourse 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 we, 
 an approach to either can only be by utter destruction. 
 Why should you doubt that the feud of our fathers, Hke 
 so many of which we have heard, might be appeased 
 by our friendship? You are my only friend. I 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; 
 190
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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; 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 tone 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 impossibil- 
 ities performed. What right have you to make such sup- 
 positions, and ask such a question? ' 
 
 'Hope, Alice — hope,' answered Julian, 'the last sup- 
 port 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 ; but instantly rais- 
 ing them again, she repeated, in a firmer and a sadder
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tone — 'yes, Julian, I would refer you to my father; 
 and you would find that your pilot, Hope, had deceived 
 you, and that 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 undesirable. 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 the things of another 
 world ; and if he hstened 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 so strong, but I shall find some 
 means to melt him. Forbid me not — forbid me not 
 at least the experiment ! ' 
 
 'I can but advise,' said Alice; 'I can forbid you no- 
 thing; for to forbid implies power to command obedi- 
 ence. But if you will be wise and Hsten to me — here, and 
 on this spot, we part for ever ! ' 
 
 '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 de- 
 sire 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! — farewell, for a brief space!' 
 
 She replied, 'Farewell, Julian! — farewell for ever!' 
 192 
 
 V
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Julian, within a week of this interview, was at Mar- 
 tindale Castle, with the view of communicating his pur- 
 pose. But the task which seems easy at a distance proves 
 as difl&cult upon a nearer approach as the fording of a 
 river which from afar appeared only a brook. There 
 lacked not opportunities of 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 fam- 
 ily; 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 Moultrassie avenue.' 
 
 'Was that so great a fault?' said Julian, affecting in- 
 difference, while his heart was trembling, as it seemed to 
 him, almost in his very throat. 
 
 'It used to remind me of that base, dishonourable 
 Presbyterian fellow, Bridgenorth,' 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, Gil, I turned off the cow-boy 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.' 
 
 Julian made some indifferent answer, but too well 
 «7 193
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 understood, from the language and tone 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 of, are 
 but too apt to spend their time in nursing and cherish- 
 ing petty causes of wrath 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 
 to 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 neigh- 
 bour?' 
 
 *I do not say so,' said Lady Peveril; '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 to 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 him- 
 self 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, to make the best 
 he could of what had happened, by requesting an inter- 
 view with Alice, in order to 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 
 
 194 
 
 I
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 to retain a favourable opinion of 
 her father, Major Bridgenorth, which Julian would fain 
 have represented as an omen of their future more per- 
 fect reconciliation. 
 
 ' 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, that you will no 
 longer either encourage or permit this gentleman's visits, 
 as the result of such persecution will be to compel me 
 to appeal to my aunt and father for another place of 
 residence, and perhaps also for another and more pru- 
 dent companion.' 
 
 This last hint struck Mistress Deborah with so much 
 terror, that she joined her ward in requiring and de- 
 manding Julian's instant absence, and he was obliged 
 to 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 ungrateful mistress, and again entertaining his pas- 
 sion with augmented violence, ended by the visit to the 
 Black Fort the beginning of which we narrated in the 
 last chapter. 
 
 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 parlour, it seemed to him 
 that the dark, melancholy eyes of the slaughtered Christ- 
 
 195
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 lan's portrait followed him wherever he went, wdth 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. 
 
 I
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Parents have flinty hearts! No tears can move them. 
 
 Otway. 
 
 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 sim- 
 plicity 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 ceremonious arrangement of attire is 
 very much allied with formality, and a preconceived 
 determination to treat a lover with cold politeness. 
 
 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, sufficiently rounded in the out- 
 lines 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, notwithstanding, 
 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 
 
 197
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 overlooked in her company. It was no wonder, 
 therefore, that an ardent character like Julian, influ- 
 enced 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. 
 
 His heart beat high as she came into the apartment, 
 and it was almost without 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 inflection of voice — * a mockery, 
 and a cruel one. You come to this lone place, inhabited 
 only by two women, too simple to command your ab- 
 sence, too weak to enforce it; you come in spite of my 
 earnest request, to the neglect of your own time, to the 
 prejudice, I may fear, of my character; you abuse the 
 influence you possess over the simple person to whom 
 I am entrusted — 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, after 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 
 
 198
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 — 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 no- 
 thing to ask — nothing to wish for. Use your own rea- 
 son — consider the injury you do yourself — the injust- 
 ice 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 when I ' 
 
 ' Till you can bear to think of me only as a friend and 
 sister.' 
 
 'That is a sentence of eternal banishment indeed!' 
 said Julian; 'it is seeming, no doubt, to fix a term of ex- 
 ile, but attaching to it an impossible condition.' 
 
 'And why impossible, Julian?' said Alice, in a tone of 
 persuasion. 'Were we not happier ere you threw the 
 mask from your own countenance, and tore the veil 
 
 199
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 from my foolish eyes? Did we not meet with Joy, spend 
 our time happily, and part cheerily, because we trans- 
 gressed 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 passion, 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 expense 
 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 presence 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 
 
 200
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 your resolution, and less than none in the protection of 
 Deborah. Till you can renounce, honestly and explic- 
 itly, 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 pos- 
 sible; 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 in- 
 terview; on the contrary, averted it as long as I could, 
 and am now most desirous to break it off.' 
 
 'And wherefore, Ahce, 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 — see 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, Julian? ' answered Alice. 'You yourself build wild 
 hopes in the air, and accuse me of destroying what 
 had never any earthly foundation. Spare yourself, 
 Julian — spare me — and in mercy to us both depart, 
 and return not again till you can be more reasonable.' 
 
 '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 
 
 20I 
 
 ^mh mmm sm coiiese umkh
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 de- 
 voted and sincere affection with contempt and disHke? 
 Is that,' he added, in a deep tone of feeHng — '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 anything, concerning what I might do in a state 
 of things which can never take place. Indeed, JuHan, 
 you ought not thus to press me. Unprotected 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 your- 
 self at the expense of every feeling which I ought to 
 entertain.' 
 
 'You have said enough, Alice,' said JuHan, with 
 sparkling eyes — ' you have said enough in deprecating 
 my urgency, and I will press you no further. But you 
 overrate the impediments which he betwixt us; they 
 must and shall give way.' 
 
 'So you said before,' answered Alice, 'and with what 
 probability, 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 
 Bridgenorth, by my mother's account, is a worthy and 
 
 202
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 an estimable man. I will remind him that to my mo- 
 ther'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 hear if I have feared 
 to plead my cause with him.' 
 
 'Alas!' answered Alice, 'you well know my uncer- 
 tainty 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 ! But 
 the short and infrequent visits which he makes to this 
 house are all that he permits me of his society. Some- 
 thing I might surely do, however Httle, to alleviate the 
 melancholy 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 
 griefs should be forgotten — all old friendships revived. 
 My father's prejudices are those of an Englishman — 
 strong, indeed, but not insurmountable 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 dwelling.' 
 
 'Do not attempt it, I charge you,' said Alice. *Heis 
 already a man of sorrows; and what would he think were 
 I capable of entertaining 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 
 
 203
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 locked thee in his arms he shall answer to me on the sub- 
 ject 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 flapped 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, Alice,' 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 supposed 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, 'O do him no injury; he meant me no wrong! 
 Father, you were wont to be a man of reason and of 
 religious peace.' 
 
 'And wherefore should I not be so now, Alice?' said 
 Bridgenorth, raising his daughter from the ground, on 
 which she had almost sunk in the earnestness of her sup- 
 plication. 'Dost thou know aught, maiden, which should 
 inflame my anger against this young man more than 
 reason or religion may bridle? Go — go to thy cham- 
 ber. Compose thine own passions: learn to rule these, 
 
 204
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 Ma- 
 jor 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 con- 
 versation in the following manner: — 
 
 'You seemed but now, young gentleman, anxious to 
 learn where I was to be found. Such I at least conjec- 
 tured from the few expressions which I chanced to over- 
 hear; 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 entertained 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, 
 though unknown, I am bound to respect so highly.' 
 
 *0n 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 daugh- 
 ter. I only think you had done better to have entrusted 
 it to me in the first instance, as my sole concern.' 
 
 The utmost sharpness of attention which Julian ap- 
 plied could not discover if Bridgenorth spoke seriously 
 
 205
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 or ironically to the above purpose. He was, however, 
 quick-witted beyond his experience, and was internally 
 determined to endeavour to discover something of the 
 character and the temper of him with whom he spoke. 
 For that purpose, regulating his reply in the same tone 
 with Bridgenorth's observation, he said that, not having 
 the advantage to know his place of residence, he had 
 applied for information 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 — 
 ^you have long known it?' 
 
 ' Yes, young man. Think you that, as the father of an 
 only child, I could have suffered Alice Bridgenorth — 
 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 subtilty; but believe not 
 that it can overreach the afifection which a widowed 
 father bears to an only child.' 
 
 206
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'If,' said Julian, his heart beating thick and joy- 
 fully — *if you have known this intercourse so long, 
 may I not hope that it has not met your disapprob- 
 ation?' 
 
 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 dis- 
 pleasing 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 either easily or speedily accomplished.' 
 
 'I 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 
 neighbourhood, and — ' 
 
 Bridgenorth interrupted him with a grim smile; for 
 such it seemed, as it passed over a face of deep melan- 
 choly. 'My daughter 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 pleas- 
 ant 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?' 
 
 207
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 '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 pro- 
 fane faction, but not the enemy of his person.' 
 
 'I have ever heard,' replied Julian, 'much the con- 
 trary ; and it was but now that I reminded you that you 
 had been his friend.' 
 
 'Ay. When he was in afHiction 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 mur- 
 deress, bearing on her hand the blood of my near con- 
 nexion, 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 magis- 
 trate, to give ready assistance to a legal action — bound, 
 as a grateful and obliged friend, to respect my rights 
 and my person — thrusts himself 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 pro- 
 
 208
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 tection, 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, apostrophising 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 ! ' 
 
 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 inter- 
 rupt. Accordingly, in a few minutes, the latter pro- 
 ceeded. 'These things,' he said, 'I recall not in bitter- 
 ness, 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 in- 
 terred. But the public cause sets further 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 ad- 
 vance 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 foot of my body, 
 whilst I lurked darkling, like a thief in concealment, 
 in the house of my fathers? It was Geoffrey Peveril's 
 87 209
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 — it was your father's ! What can you answer to all this, 
 or how can you reconcile it with your present wishes?' 
 
 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 
 entertain a keen resentment of them, when a door was 
 open for reconciliation.' 
 
 'Peace, young man,' said Bridgenorth, 'thou speakest 
 of thou knowest not what. To forgive our human wrongs 
 is Christian-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 those who have 
 poured forth the blood of our brethren.' He looked at 
 the picture of Christian, and was silent for a few min- 
 utes, 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 times 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 Providence, which gave her so fair a form, 
 and tenanted that form with a mind as pure as the 
 original frailty 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; 
 
 2IO
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 and of him, once more, I say nothing, save that I have 
 power over him, which ere now he might have felt, but 
 that 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 hon- 
 ours and pedigree, I would not willingly destroy them; 
 more than I would pull down a moss-grown tower, or 
 hew to the ground an ancient oak, save for the straight- 
 ening 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 something. 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 fam- 
 ily, and in the better habit of respect for his parents, to 
 hear, without displeasure, some part of Bridgenorth's 
 discourse. 
 
 'The house of Peveril,' he replied, 'was never hum- 
 bled.' 
 
 ' Had you said the sons of that house had never been 
 humble J answered Bridgenorth, 'you would have come 
 nearer the truth. Are you not humbled? Live you not 
 here, the lackey of a haughty woman, the play-com- 
 panion of an empty youth? If you leave this isle and go 
 to 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 than your father's 
 
 211
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ancient name, and slavish devotion of blood and fortune 
 to the cause of his 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 their differences — ' 
 
 'Build Maypoles, and dance around them,' said 
 Bridgenorth, with another of those grim smiles which 
 passed over his features like the Hght 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 times in which, by the dreaming 
 drudgery of a country magistrate and the petty cares 
 of a country proprietor, a man can serve his unhappy 
 country. There are mighty designs afloat, and men are 
 called to make their choice betwixt God and Baal. The 
 ancient superstition — the abomination of our fathers 
 — is raising its head and flinging abroad its snares, 
 under the protection of the princes of the earth; but she 
 raises not her head unmarked or unwatched: the true 
 English hearts are as thousands which wait but a signal 
 to arise as one man, and show the kings of the earth 
 that they have combined in vain! We will cast their 
 cords from us; the cup of their abominations we will not 
 taste.' 
 
 '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 pro- 
 pagated at home.' 
 
 'Else, wherefore do I speak to thee friendly and so 
 free?' said Bridgenorth. 'Do I not know with what 
 
 212
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 readiness of early wit you baflaed the wily attempts of 
 the woman's priest to seduce thee from the Protestant 
 faith? Do I 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 this. For to-day this is thy hab- 
 itation. I will see in thee neither the servant of that 
 daughter of Eshbaal nor the son of him who pursued 
 my hfe and blemished my honours; but thou shalt 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; but there was such a 
 look of mourning in his welcome that, whatever delight 
 the youth anticipated spending so long a time in the 
 neighbourhood of Alice Bridgenorth, perhaps in her 
 society, or however strongly he felt the prudence of 
 conciliating 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 her handkerchief at her eyes, 
 and an appearance of great mental trouble. 'It was not 
 my fault. Major Bridgenorth,' she said; 'how could I 
 help it? like will to like — the boy would come — the 
 girl would see him.' 
 
 'Peace, foolish woman/ said Bridgenorth, 'and hear 
 what I have got to say.' 
 
 'I know what your honour has to say well enough,' 
 said Deborah. ' Service, I wot, is no inheritance nowa- 
 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 time.' 
 
 'Peace, idiot!' said Bridgenorth; but so intent was 
 Deborah on her vindication, that he could but thrust 
 the interjection, as it were edgewise, between her ex- 
 clamations, 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 
 tempted me, but that I knew she was but a dead cast- 
 away, poor innocent, if she were taken away from my 
 lady or me. And so this is the end on 't! — up early and 
 
 214
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 down late, and this is all my thanks! But your honour 
 had better take 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 ; 
 'thinkest 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 further for her 
 defence than a lie, however inconsistent and improbable 
 — 'did I know that your honour knew of it? Why, how 
 should I have permitted his visits else? I wonder what 
 your honour takes me for ! Had I not been sure it was 
 the thing in this world that 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 an- 
 other 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.' 
 
 'Parrot of a woman, hold your tongue!' said Bridge- 
 north, his patience almost completely exhausted; 'or, 
 if you will prate, let it 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 heart,' said Deborah; 
 'and if there are a pair of fatter fowls in Man than shall 
 
 215
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 clap their wings on the table presently, your honour 
 shall call me goose as well as parrot.' 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 
 imderstanding.' 
 
 So saying, he left the house, accompanied by Julian 
 Peveril, and they were soon walking side by side, as if 
 they had been old acquaintances. 
 
 It may have happened to many of our readers, as it 
 has done to ourselves, to be thrown by accident into 
 society with some individual whose claims to what is 
 called a serious character stand considerably higher than 
 our own, and with whom, therefore, we have conceived 
 ourselves likely to spend our time in a very stiff and 
 constrained manner; while, on the other hand, our de- 
 stined companion may have apprehended some disgust 
 from the supposed levity and thoughtless gaiety of a 
 disposition so different from his own. Now, it has fre- 
 quently 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 conse- 
 quence, been of that pleasant texture, betwixt the use- 
 ful and agreeable, which best resembles 'the fairy-web 
 of night and day,' usually called in prose the twilight. 
 
 216
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 It is probable both parties may, on such occasions, have 
 been the better for their encounter, even if it went no 
 further than to establish for the time a commimity of 
 feeling between men who, separated more perhaps by 
 temper than by principle, are too apt to charge each 
 other with profane frivolity on the one hand or fanati- 
 cism on the other. 
 
 It fared thus in Peveril's walk with Bridgenorth, and 
 in the conversation which he held with him. 
 
 Carefully avoiding the subject on which he had al- 
 ready spoken. Major Bridgenorth turned his conversa- 
 tion chiefly on foreign travel, 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 anecdotes and observations thus communicated 
 were all tinged with the serious and almost gloomy spirit 
 of the narrator, they yet contained traits of interest and 
 of wonder, such as are usually interesting 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 began to sustain those vexa- 
 tions which a few years afterwards were summed up by 
 the revocation of the Edict of Nantz. 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 time had taken 
 place under the celebrated Tekeli; and laid down solid 
 reasons why they were entitled to make common cause 
 with the Great Turk, rather than submit to the Pope of 
 
 317
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Rome. He talked also of Savoy, where those of the 
 Reformed religion still suffered a cruel persecution ; and 
 he mentioned, with a swelling spirit, the protection 
 which Oliver had afforded to the oppressed Protestant 
 churches; 'therein showing himself,' he added, 'more 
 fit to wield the supreme power than those who, claiming 
 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 Bridge- 
 north.' 
 
 'I did not panegyrise him,' answered Bridgenorth; 
 * 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 with which she oppresses our poor brethren 
 of the religion. When the scales shall fall from thine 
 eyes, all this thou shalt see; and seeing, shalt learn to 
 detest and despise it.' 
 
 By his time they had completed their walk, and were 
 returned to the Black Fort by a different path from that 
 which had led them up the valley. The exercise and the 
 general tone of conversation had removed, in some 
 degree, the shyness and embarrassment which Peveril 
 originally felt in Bridgenorth's presence, and which the 
 
 218
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 tenor of his first remarks had rather increased than 
 diminished. Deborah's promised banquet was soon on 
 the board; and in simplicity, 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 httle aJEEectation. Most of the dishes were of 
 silver, and the plates were of the same metal ; instead of 
 the trenchers and pewter which Peveril had usually 
 seen employed on similar occasions at the Black Fort. 
 
 Presently, with the feeling of one who walks in a 
 pleasant dream from which he fears to awake, and whose 
 delight is mingled with wonder and with uncertainty, 
 Julian Peveril found himself seated between Alice 
 Bridgenorth and her father — the being he most loved 
 on earth, and the person whom he had ever considered 
 as the great obstacle to their intercourse ! The confusion 
 of his mind was such, that he could scarcely reply to the 
 importunate civilities of Dame Deborah, who, seated 
 with them at table in her quality of governante, now 
 dispensed the good things which had been prepared 
 under her own eye. 
 
 As for Alice, she seemed to 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 
 further 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 
 
 219
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 anon crossed by some expressions indicative of natural 
 and habitual melancholy, or prophetic of future mis- 
 fortune and woe. Flashes of enthusiasm, too, shot along 
 his conversation, gleaming like the sheet-lightning of 
 an autumn eve, which throws a strong, though moment- 
 ary, illumination across the sober twilight, and all the 
 surrounding objects, which, touched by it, assume a 
 wilder and more striking character. In general, however, 
 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 neces- 
 sary 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, 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 uncertainty 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 re- 
 mained,' he said, 'domestic rights were last invaded; 
 and, therefore, men disposed upon their cupboards and 
 tables the wealth which in these places would remain 
 
 220
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 longest, though not perhaps finally, sacred from the 
 grasp of a tyrannical government. But let there be 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 ban- 
 quet, becomes a potent 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. Necessity 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.' 
 
 221
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 '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 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 into circulation the miser's 
 hoard and the 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,' said Peveril, 'as if national calamity 
 might be, in some sort, an advantage.' 
 
 'And if it were not so,' replied Bridgenorth, 'it had 
 not existed in this state of trial, where all temporal evil 
 is alleviated by something good in its progress or result, 
 where all that is good is close coupled with that which is 
 in itself evil.' 
 
 222
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *It must be a noble sight,' said Julian, 'to behold the 
 slumbering 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 Bridgenorth, 'something to 
 the same effect; and as the tale is brief, I will tell it you, 
 if you will : — 
 
 'Amongst my wanderings, the Transatlantic settle- 
 ments have not escaped me; more especially the coun- 
 try 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 unenlightened sav- 
 ages than stooping to extinguish, under the oppression 
 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 sachem, 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 destruc- 
 tive and desultory warfare inflicted many dreadful 
 calamities on the settlement. I was, by chance, at a 
 small village in the woods, more than thirty miles from 
 Boston, and in its situation exceedingly lonely, and sur- 
 rounded with thickets. Nevertheless, there was no idea 
 of any danger from the Indians at that time, for men 
 trusted to the protection of a considerable body of troops 
 
 223
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 who had taken the field for protection of the frontiers, 
 and who lay, or were supposed to lie, betwixt the hamlet 
 and the enemy's country. But they had to do with a foe 
 whom the devil himself had inspired at once with cun- 
 ning and cruelty. It was on a Sabbath morning, when 
 we had assembled to take sweet counsel together in 
 the Lord's house. Our temple was but constructed of 
 wooden logs; but when shall the chant of trained hire- 
 lings, or the 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 Solsgrace, long the companion of my 
 pilgrimage, had just begun to wrestle in prayer, when 
 a woman, with disordered looks and dishevelled hair, 
 entered our chapel in a distracted manner, screaming 
 incessantly, " The Indians! The Indians! " In that land 
 no man dares separate himself from his means of defence, 
 and whether in the city or in the field, in the ploughed 
 land or the forest, men keep beside them their weapons, 
 as did the Jews at the 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 with- 
 held from public worship; and it was remarked as a 
 judgment that, upon that bloody Sabbath, Adrian 
 Hanson, a Dutchman, a man well enough disposed 
 towards men, but whose mind was altogether given to 
 worldly gain, was shot and scalped as he was summing 
 his weekly gains in his warehouse. In fine, there was 
 much damage done; and although our arrival and en- 
 
 224
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 trance 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 whistUng of bullets, 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 con- 
 fusion; while the smoke which the wind drove against 
 us gave further advantage to the enemy, who fought, 
 as it were, invisible, and under cover, whilst we fell fast 
 by their unerring fire. In this state of confusion, and 
 while we were about to adopt the desperate project of 
 evacuating the village, and, placing the women and chil- 
 dren in the centre, of attempting a retreat to the nearest 
 settlement, 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 the 
 midst of us, as we hastily agitated the resolution of re- 
 treating. His garments were of the skin of the elk, and 
 he wore sword and carried gun; I never saw anything 
 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? Fol- 
 low 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 accustomed to command; 
 27 225
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and such was the influence of his appearance, 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 courage 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, at- 
 tacked 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 
 detachment 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 village, 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 most 
 due." I was nearest to him as he spoke, and I gave into 
 
 226
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 his hand the water he requested. At that moment we 
 exchanged glances, and it seemed to me that I recog- 
 nised a noble friend whom I had long since deemed in 
 glory; but he gave me no time to speak, had speech 
 been prudent. Sinking on his knees and signing us to 
 obey him, he poured forth a strong and energetic thanks- 
 giving for the turning back of the battle, which, pro- 
 nounced 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 
 beyond them all: it was like the song of the inspired 
 prophetess who dwelt beneath the palm-tree between 
 Ramah and Bethel. He was silent; and for a brief space 
 we remained with our faces bent to the earth, no man 
 daring to 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 which he had rescued.' 
 
 Here Bridgenorth, who had told this singular story 
 with an eloquence 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 predestined 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 youthful 
 and the brave. 
 
 227
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'Many things,' answered Bridgenorth, 'and, as usual, 
 little to the purpose. The prevailing opinion was, not- 
 withstanding 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 the 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 country, yet I 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 JuHan Peveril. 
 
 'Not properly a secret,' repHed 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 
 extreme isles of the earth to tremble. Have you never 
 heard of Richard WhalleyP' 
 
 'Of the regicide?' exclaimed Peveril, starting. 
 
 'Call his act what thou wilt,' said Bridgenorth; 'he 
 was not less the rescuer of that devoted village, that, 
 
 228
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 with other leading spirits of the age, he sat in the judg- 
 ment-seat when Charles Stuart was arraigned at the 
 bar, and subscribed the sentence that went forth upon 
 him.' 
 
 *I have ever heard,' said Julian, in an altered voice, 
 and colouring deeply, 'that you. Master Bridgenorth, 
 with the other Presbyterians, were totally averse to that 
 detestable crime, and were ready to have made joint 
 cause with the Cavaliers in preventing so horrible a 
 parricide.' 
 
 'If it were so,' replied Bridgenorth, 'we have been 
 richly rewarded by his successor!' 
 
 ' 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 at- 
 tach to our actions? ' 
 
 'God forbid!' answered Bridgenorth, 'yet those who 
 view the havoc which this house of Stuart have made 
 in the church and state — the tyranny which they exer- 
 cise over men's persons and consciences — may well 
 doubt whether it be lawful to use weapons in their de- 
 fence. 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 ; and though the grizzled beard covered the lower 
 part of his face, it prevented me not from recognising 
 him. The scent was hot after him for his blood; but, 
 by the assistance of those friends whom Heaven had 
 
 229
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 raised up for his preservation, he was concealed care- 
 fully, and emerged only to do the will of Providence 
 in the matter of that battle. Perhaps his voice may be 
 heard in the field once more, should England need one 
 of her noblest hearts.' ^ 
 
 'Now, God forbid!' 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 Julian, who had 
 scarce lifted 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 lengthening 
 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 which he was brought 
 up, that, as a son of Sir Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak, 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 conviction — 
 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 
 * See Note lo. 
 230
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Julian was not himself aware how much he was influenced 
 by that circumstance) , would have rendered it difficult 
 to take personal offence. His language and sentiments 
 were of that quiet yet decided kind upon which it is 
 difficult 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 the company in which he found 
 himself than at the opinions to which he was listening, 
 another circumstance reminded him that the proper time 
 of his stay 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 pre- 
 sent stay rather too long. She had been the gift of the 
 countess to Julian whilst a youth, and came of a high- 
 spirited mountain breed, remarkable 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 pur- 
 pose of the shrill neigh with which she startled the female 
 inmates of the parlour, who, the moment afterwards, 
 could not forbear smiling 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, 
 withdrawing him into a Gothic recess of the old-fash- 
 ioned apartment, and speaking so low that he could not 
 be overheard by Alice and her governante, who, in the 
 
 231
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 meantime, caressed, and fed with fragments 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 embarrassment, and then added, 'And indeed 
 it were most unnecessary that you should do so. I have 
 not so far forgotten the days of my youth, or those affec- 
 tions 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, perad- 
 venture, you would not have hesitated to make your 
 own without my knowledge and against my consent? 
 Nay, never vindicate thyself, but mark me further. 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 comparison, 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 suggested 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, inflexible features of the 
 republican soldier. 
 
 Julian left the apartment as one who walks in a 
 232
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 dream; he mounted Fairy, and, agitated by a variety of 
 thoughts which he was unable to reduce to order, he re- 
 turned to Castle 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; and 
 which had been suffered to fall into a much more dilap- 
 idated 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, 
 imless 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 night-bell of the castle had 
 been rung earHer 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 the 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.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 What seem'd its head, 
 The likeness of a kingly crown had on. 
 
 Paradise Lost, 
 
 SoDOR, or Holm-Peel/ SO is named the castle to which 
 our Julian directed his course early on the following 
 morning, is one of those extraordinary monuments of 
 antiquity with which this singular and interesting 
 island abounds. It occupied the 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 thickness ; and the access to 
 the interior, at the time which we treat of, was only by 
 two flights 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 antiquarian curiosity. There 
 were, besides the castle itself, two cathedral churches, 
 dedicated, the earlier to St. Patrick, the latter to St. 
 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 archi- 
 tecture of the most remote period, were composed of a 
 * See Note ii. 
 234
 
 PEVEREL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 inclosed by the massive exterior walls of Holm- 
 Peel exhibited many other vestiges of the olden time. 
 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 meaning seem 
 yet to be hidden in the mist of ages. This of Holm-Peel 
 had been converted to the purpose of a watch-tower. 
 There were, besides. Runic monuments, of which the 
 legends could not be deciphered ; and later inscriptions 
 to the memory of champions of whom the names only 
 were preserved from oblivion. But tradition and super- 
 stitious eld, still most busy where real history is silent, 
 had filled up the long blank of accurate information 
 with tales of sea-kings and pirates, Hebridean chiefs 
 and Norwegian resolutes, who had formerly warred 
 against, and in defence of, this famous castle. Super- 
 stition, too, had 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 em- 
 pire are told and received with more absolute credulity 
 than in the Isle of Man. 
 
 Amidst all these ruins of an older time arose the castle 
 
 235
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 itself, now ruinous; but in Charles II 's reign well gar- 
 risoned, and, in a military point of view, kept in com- 
 plete order. It was a venerable and very ancient build- 
 ing, containing several apartments of sufficient size and 
 height to be termed noble. But, in the surrender 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 
 state was ill adapted for the residence of the noble pro- 
 prietor. Yet it had been often the abode, not only of the 
 Lords of Man, but of those state prisoners whom the 
 Kings of Britain sometimes committed to their charge. 
 
 In this castle 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 
 further schemes of ambition. And here, too, Eleanor, 
 the haughty wife of the good Duke of Gloucester, pined 
 out in seclusion the last days of her banishment. The 
 sentinels pretended that her discontented spectre was 
 often visible at night, traversing the battlements of the 
 external walls, or standing motionless beside a particular 
 solitary turret of one of the watch-towers with which 
 they are flanked ; but dissolving into air at cock-crow, or 
 when the bell tolled from the yet remaining tower of St. 
 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 that Julian Peveril 
 found his friend the Earl of Derby, who had that mo- 
 ment sat down to a breakfast composed of various sorts 
 of fish. 'Welcome, most imperial Julian/ he said — 
 
 236
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'welcome to our royal fortress; in which, as yet, we are 
 not like to be starved with hunger, though wellnigh 
 dead for cold.' 
 
 Julian answered by inquiring the meaning of this 
 sudden movement. 
 
 * 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 
 tempted to inquire ; but she will find herself much mis- 
 taken. I shall give her credit for full wisdom in her pro- 
 ceedings, 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 inquire 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 Burgesse's thorough-paced doc- 
 trine, enters at one ear, paces through, and goes out at 
 the other? ' 
 
 'Come, my lord,' said Julian, 'you are not so indiffer- 
 ent as you would represent yourself: you are dying of 
 curiosity to know what this hurry is about; only you 
 think it the courtly humour to 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 Nowel, and our vassals? or perhaps 
 some dispute betwixt our Majesty and the ecclesiastical 
 jurisdictions? for all which, our Majesty cares as little as 
 any king in Christendom.' 
 
 237
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *I rather suppose there is intelligence from England,' 
 said Julian. ' I heard last night in Peeltown that Green- 
 halgh 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 madwoman, the Duchess of Newcastle.' 
 
 'Hush, my lord, for Heaven's sake,' said Peveril; 
 *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 I 
 would not give one of Waller's songs or Denham's 
 satires for a whole cart-load of her Grace's trash. But 
 here comes our mother, with care on her brow.' 
 
 The Countess of Derby entered the apartment accord- 
 ingly, holding 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 to her misfortune, 
 the countess had educated about her person for some 
 years. Upon this unfortunate being, with the touch of 
 romance which marked many of her proceedings, Lady 
 Derby had conferred the name of Fenella, after some 
 ancient princess of the island. The countess herself 
 was not much changed since we last presented her to 
 our readers. Age had rendered her step more slow, but 
 not less majestic; and while it traced some wrinkles on 
 
 238
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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.' 
 
 JuHan answered with a blush which he could not pre- 
 vent, ' That he had followed his sport among the moun- 
 tains too far, had returned late, and, finding her lady- 
 ship was removed from Castletown, had instantly fol- 
 lowed the family hither; but as the night-bell was rung 
 and the watch set, he had deemed it more respectful to 
 lodge for the night in the town.' 
 
 'It is well,' said the countess; 'and, to do you justice, 
 Juhan, you are seldom a truant neglecter of appointed 
 hours, though, like the rest of the youth of this age, you 
 sometimes suffer your sports to consume too much of 
 time that should be spent otherwise. But for your 
 friend Philip, he is an avowed contemner of good order, 
 and seems to find pleasure in wasting time, 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 Lachrymas Christi. I pray you to sit down to break- 
 fast, Julian, and partake 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 to secure 
 
 239
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 a few flasks, had I not given him a hint on that import- 
 ant 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 doted upon her son with all a mother's fondness, 
 even when she was most angry with him for being de- 
 ficient in the peculiar and chivalrous disposition which 
 had distinguished his father, and which was so analog- 
 ous to her own romantic and high-minded character. 
 'Lend me your signet,' she added with a sigh; 'for it 
 were, I fear, vain to ask you to read over these des- 
 patches from England, and execute the warrants which 
 I have thought necessary to prepare in consequence.' 
 
 'My signet 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 maire de palais in her proceed- 
 ings.' 
 
 The countess made signs to her little train-bearer, 
 who immediately 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.' ^ 
 
 * See Note 12. 
 
 240
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *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 worse than you are,' rephed 
 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; for God's sake, madam, what are you going to 
 do? Look at the seal before 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 antiquary, 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 de- 
 vised as the most preposterous device to present our 
 most absurd Majesty of Man. The signet — I have not 
 seen it since I gave it to Gibbon, my monkey, to play 
 with. He did whine for it most piteously. I hope he 
 
 27 241
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 has not gemmed the green breast of ocean with my 
 symbol of sovereignty!' 
 
 'Now, by Heaven/ said the countess, trembling and 
 colouring 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 mauvaise plaisanterie — only an ill-imagined jest 
 — ungracious, and in bad taste, I allow, but only one of 
 Philip's follies. Look at me, dearest mother, and forgive 
 me!' 
 
 The countess turned her eyes towards him, from which 
 the tears were fast falling. 
 
 'Philip,' she said, 'you try me too unkindly and too 
 severely. If times 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 jests and 
 trifling pursuits — let me at least, who live secluded 
 from all others, die without perceiving the change which 
 has happened, 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, interrupt- 
 ing her affectionately. ' It is true, I cannot promise to 
 
 242
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 forth- 
 with not only seal the warrants, to the great endanger- 
 ment of my precious fingers, but also read the same from 
 end to end, as well as the despatches thereunto apper- 
 taining.' 
 
 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 expression of deep serious- 
 ness, 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 similar in gravity. The earl had no sooner 
 perused the despatches, which he did with great atten- 
 tion, than he rose and said, 'Julian, come with me.' 
 
 The countess looked surprised. *I was wont to share 
 your father's counsels, my son,' she said; 'but do not 
 think that I wish to intrude myself upon yours. I am 
 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 not, 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 
 
 243
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 had been well ; but since I have entered on the affair — 
 and it appears sufficiently important — I must transact 
 it to the best of my own ability.' 
 
 *Go, then, my son,' said the countess, 'and may 
 Heaven enlighten thee with its counsel, since thou wilt 
 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 with 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 con- 
 siderable anxiety. 
 
 'It seems,' said the Earl of Derby, ' that Old England, 
 who takes a frolicsome brain-fever once every two or 
 three years, for the benefit of her doctors, and the pur- 
 ification of the torpid lethargy 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 Oates, and thought it 
 the most absurd foolery I ever perused. But that cun- 
 ning fellow 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. 
 
 244
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 The King, who has sworn never to kiss the pillow his 
 father went to sleep on, temporises and gives way to 
 the current; the Duke of York, suspected and hated 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 Tutbury 
 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.' 
 
 '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; 
 'moreover, I desired to have you solus ; thirdly, I was 
 about to speak when my mother entered ; and, to con- 
 clude, it was no business of mine. But these despatches 
 of my politic mother's private correspondent put a new 
 face on the whole matter; for it seems some of the in- 
 formers — 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 exhib- 
 ited no mark of alarm, and, moreover, seemed no way 
 more anxious to communicate the matter to your lord- 
 ship 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 
 
 245
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 neglect of business is entirely assumed in order to leave 
 it in her hands, but that better 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 
 this brother — but I daresay 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 
 something 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 time, and, 
 naturally enough, was unwilling to concur in the sen- 
 tence which adjudged his aine to be shot like a dog. My 
 mother, who was then in high force, and not to be con- 
 trolled by any one, would have served the dempster 
 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 occa- 
 sionally 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 Bridgenorth, 
 
 246
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 brother-in-law to the deceased, yet my mother, thank 
 Heaven, has hitherto had the sense to connive at them, 
 though, for some reason or other, she holds this Bridge- 
 north in especial disfavour.' 
 
 'And why/ said Peveril, forcing himself to speak, in 
 order to conceal the very unpleasant surprise which 
 he felt — 'why does the countess now depart from so 
 prudent a line of conduct?' 
 
 'You must know the case is now different. The rogues 
 are not satisfied 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 Catholic, 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 Peveril, 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 con- 
 siderable party there, and were likely to be owned and 
 
 247
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 protected in anything they might undertake against us. 
 The people of Ramsey and Castletown 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 Hkely 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 Robert — 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 
 difl&culties.' 
 
 'But in which, I trust, you do not acquiesce, my 
 lord,' answered Peveril, whose thoughts instantly re- 
 verted to Alice, if they could ever be said to be absent 
 from her. 
 
 'Truly, I acquiesce in no such matter,' said the earl. 
 'William Christian's death cost me a fair half of my in- 
 heritance ; 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 
 
 248
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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; 'but that will be no easy 
 matter: they are stubborn on principle, and empty 
 threats will not move them. This storm-blast 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 depended, 
 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 ap- 
 proached 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 letter 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 replied, 'who had given him a piece of money 
 to deliver it into Master Peveril's own hand.' 
 
 'Thou art a lucky fellow, Julian,' said the earl. 'With 
 that grave brow of thine, and thy character for sobriety 
 and early wisdom, you set the girls a-wooing, without 
 waiting till they are asked; whilst I, their drudge and 
 vassal, waste both language and leisure, without getting 
 a kind word or look, far less a billet-doux.' 
 
 249
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 This the young earl said with a smile of conscious tri- 
 umph, as in fact he valued himself not a little 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 often seen, and which was remarkably 
 beautiful. He stood suspended, for he saw the difficulty 
 and impropriety of withdrawing himself from the count- 
 ess and his friend at this moment of impending 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 him- 
 self 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 monitor. 
 
 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 
 
 250
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 at length exclaimed, 'What! cousin, quite d la mort! 
 O, most judicious Julian! O, most precise Peveril! 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 school- 
 master, and you shall have, as Father Richards used to 
 say, when we were under his ferule, "licentia 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 daresay,' answered the earl, still laugh- 
 ing. 'No doubt you are summoned out by some Lady 
 Politic 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 im- 
 mediate 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 rail- 
 lery 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.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Acasto. 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 slightest size of womankind — 
 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 the 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 coun- 
 tenance resembled a most beautiful miniature; and there 
 was a quickness, decision, and fire in Fenella's look, and 
 especially 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 accom- 
 plishments, which the countess had caused to be taught 
 to her in compassion for her forlorn situation, and 
 
 252
 
 PEVEREL OF THE PEAK 
 
 which she had learned with the most surprising quick- 
 ness. Thus, for example, she was exquisite in the use of 
 the needle, and so ready and ingenious a draughts- 
 woman, that, like the ancient Mexicans, she sometimes 
 made a hasty sketch with her pencil the means of con- 
 veying her ideas, either by direct or emblematical re- 
 presentation. Above all, in the art of ornamental writ- 
 ing, much studied at that period, Fenella was so great 
 a proficient as to rival the fame of Messrs. Snow, Shel- 
 ley, and other masters of the pen, whose copy-books, 
 preserved in the libraries of the curious, still show the 
 artists smiling on the frontispiece 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, and 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, exas- 
 perated 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 
 
 253
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 vindictive disposition. Her passionate propensity had 
 been indeed idly encouraged by the young men, and par- 
 ticularly by the earl, who sometimes amused himself 
 with teasing her, that he might enjoy the various sin- 
 gular 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 expres- 
 sion 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 
 deference 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 elves were in the 
 habit of carrying off mortal children before baptism, 
 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 conceived Fenella to be; and the small- 
 ness of her size, her dark complexion, her long locks of 
 silken hair, the singularity of her manners and tones, as 
 well as the caprices of her temper, were to their thinking 
 
 254
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 all attributes of the irritable, fickle, and dangerous race 
 from which they supposed her to be sprung. And it 
 seemed that, although no jest appeared to offend her 
 more than when Lord Derby called her in sport the 
 Elfin Queen, or otherwise alluded to her supposed con- 
 nexion with *the pigmy folk,' yet still her perpetually 
 affecting to wear the colour of green, proper to the 
 fairies, as well as some other peculiarities, seemed vol- 
 untarily assumed by her, in order to countenance the 
 superstition, perhaps because it gave her more authority 
 among the lower orders. 
 
 Many were the tales circulated respecting the count- 
 ess's elf, as Fenella was currently called in the island; 
 and the malcontents of the stricter persuasion were con- 
 vinced 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 laugh- 
 ing 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 
 ante-room, 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 Snae- 
 fell and Barool. The sentinels, too, would have sworn 
 they had seen the little maiden trip past them in their 
 solitary night-walks, 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 
 
 255
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 usual idle exaggerations of the vulgar, which so fre- 
 quently 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, con- 
 fronted Julian on the top of the flight of steps which led 
 down the rock from the castle court. We ought to ob- 
 serve that, as Julian's manner to the unfortunate girl 
 had been always gentle, and free from those teasing 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 mistress, 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 gestures, which we will en- 
 deavour to describe. She commenced by extending her 
 hand slightly, accompanied with the sharp, inquisitive 
 look which served her as a note of interrogation. This 
 was meant as an inquiry whether he was going to a dis- 
 tance. Julian, in reply, extended his arm more than half, 
 to intimate that the distance was considerable. Fenella 
 looked grave, shook her head, and pointed to the count- 
 ess's window, whch 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 
 
 ' See Note 13. 
 256
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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, somewhat wearied by these 
 interrogatories, smiled, and made an effort to pass. 
 Fenella frowned, struck the end of her ebony rod per- 
 pendicularly 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 imploring 
 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 seemed in gen- 
 eral so keen and piercing as almost to over-animate the 
 little sphere to which they belonged, 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 endeavoured 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; and having succeeded 
 in extricating 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 further importunity. 
 
 But with activity much greater than his, the dumb 
 maiden hastened 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 
 27 257
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 was obliged to let herself drop a considerable height from 
 the wall of a small flanking battery , where twopatereroes 
 were placed to scour the pass, in case any enemy could 
 have mounted so high. Julian had scarce time to shud- 
 der 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 endeav- 
 oured, by the gravity of his look and gesture, to make her 
 understand 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 more eager- 
 ness than before, the earnest and impressive gestures by 
 which she endeavoured to detain him in the fortress. 
 
 Julian was somewhat staggered by her pertinacity. 
 'Is it possible,' he thought, 'that any danger can ap- 
 proach 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 tablets 
 and the pencil which she usually carried with her, and 
 wrote on them the question, 'Is there danger near to 
 your mistress, that you thus stop me? ' 
 
 'There is danger around the countess,' was the answer 
 instantly written down; '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 ad- 
 dressed had neither ear to comprehend nor voice to reply 
 to uttered language. She had regained her book in the 
 mean time, and sketched, with a rapid pencil, on one of 
 
 258 

 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 Bridgenorth. 
 
 When he had gazed on the sketch for an instant with 
 surprise, Fenella took the book from his hand, laid her 
 finger upon the drawing, and slowly and sternly shook 
 her head, with a frown which seemed to prohibit the 
 meeting which was there represented. Julian, however, 
 though disconcerted, was in no shape disposed to submit 
 to the authority of his monitress. By whatever means 
 she, who so seldom stirred from the countess's apart- 
 ment, had become acquainted with a secret which he 
 thought entirely his own, he esteemed it the more neces- 
 sary to keep the appointed rendezvous, that he might 
 learn from Alice, if possible, how the secret had trans- 
 pired. He had also formed the intention of seeking out 
 Bridgenorth ; entertaining an idea that a person so rea- 
 sonable 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 
 
 259
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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; and suddenly lifting up the 
 damsel in his arms before she was aware of his purpose, 
 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, clap- 
 ping 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 
 anything which could have been uttered by female or- 
 gans. Peveril was so astounded at the scream as it rung 
 through the living rocks, that he could not help stop- 
 ping 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 distorted with passion. She stamped at him with 
 her foot, shook her clenched hand, and, turning her 
 back upon him without further adieu, ran up the rude 
 steps as lightly as a kid could have tripped up that rug- 
 ged ascent, and paused for a moment at the summit of 
 the first flight. 
 
 Julian could feel nothing but wonder and compassion 
 for the impotent passion of a being so unfortunately cir- 
 cumstanced, cut off, as it were, from the rest of man- 
 kind, and incapable of receiving in childhood that moral 
 discipline which teaches us mastery of our wa}^vard 
 passions, ere yet they have attained their meridian 
 strength and violence. He waved his hand to her, in 
 token of amicable farewell ; but she only replied by once 
 
 260
 
 X XJ V J-JXVXXJ V^i- X XXXJ X Xl<iT.X^ 
 
 more menacing him with her little hand clenched ; and 
 then ascending the rocky staircase with almost pre- 
 ternatural speed, was soon out of sight. 
 
 Julian, on his part, gave no further 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 took his palfrey from the stall, and 
 was soon mounted and on his way to the appointed place 
 of rendezvous, much marvelling, as he ambled forward 
 with speed far greater than was promised by the diminu- 
 tive 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 
 rate of twelve miles within the hour. 
 
 The monumental stone, designed to commemorate 
 some feat of an ancient king of Man which had been 
 long forgotten, was erected on the side of a narrow, 
 lonely valley, or rather glen, secluded from observa- 
 tion by the 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.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 This a love-meeting? See, the maiden mourns, 
 And the sad suitor bends his looiis on earth. 
 There's more hath pass'd between them than belongs 
 To love's sweet sorrows. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 As he approached the monument of Goddard Crovan, 
 Julian cast 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 
 with 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 moment 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 attached to Julian by such long habits 
 of kindly intimacy, still knew well how to subdue the 
 tendency of her own treacherous affections. 
 
 262
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'This is not right,' she said, extricating her hand from 
 JuHan's grasp — 'this is not right, Julian. If I have 
 been too rash in admitting such a meeting as the present, 
 it is not you that 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 devotion. He let go the 
 hand of Alice with as much respect as he could have 
 paid to that of a princess; and when she seated herself 
 upon a rocky fragment, over which nature had stretched 
 a cushion of moss and lichen, interspersed with wild- 
 flowers, backed with a bush of copsewood, he took his 
 place beside her, indeed, but at such distance as to in- 
 timate .the duty of an attendant, who was there only 
 to hear and to 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 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-timed 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 desir- 
 
 263
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ing this solitary interview, since you are aware how 
 little poor Deborah is to be trusted.' 
 
 'Can you fear misconstruction from me, Alice?' re- 
 plied 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; '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 wishes I may have 
 formed, and his whole behaviour shows the contrary, 
 I know not a man on earth from whom 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 rather 
 injure than serve his good cause; and still more do I 
 dread that, in attempting to engage you as an auxiliary, 
 
 264
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 he may forget those ties which ought to bind you, and 
 I am sure which will bind you, to a different line of 
 conduct from his own.' 
 
 'You lead me into still deeper darkness, Alice,' an- 
 swered Peveril. 'That your father's especial line of pol- 
 itics 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 party affections aside, and regarding 
 each other with respect, and even with friendly attach- 
 ment, 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 with you, and that to 
 which he hopes your misplaced partiality towards his 
 daughter may afford a motive for your forming with 
 him.' 
 
 'And what is it,' said Peveril, 'which I would refuse, 
 with such a prospect before me? ' 
 
 ' Treachery and dishonour ! ' replied Alice — ' whatever 
 would render you unworthy of the poor boon at which 
 you aim — ay, were it more worthless than I confess it 
 to be.' 
 
 'Would your father,' said Peveril, as he unwillingly 
 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 with 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 to his thinking just and honourable; nay, he con- 
 ceives that he only claims from you a debt which is due 
 
 265
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 as a creature to the Creator, and as a man to your fellow- 
 men.' 
 
 ' So guarded, where can be the danger of our inter- 
 course?' replied 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 your father dangerous? Believe 
 not so; his speech has already made impression on me in 
 some particulars, and he listened with candour and 
 patience to the objections which I made occasionally. 
 You do Master Bridgenorth less than justice in con- 
 founding him with the unreasonable bigots in policy 
 and religion, who can listen to no argument but what 
 favours their own prepossessions.' 
 
 'Julian,' replied Alice, '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 ecclesiastical 
 and civil policy are as dear to him as the life which he 
 cherishes only to advance them. They have been, with 
 little alteration, his companions through 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 to make converts must 
 begin by degrees. But that he should sacrifice to an 
 inexperienced young man, whose ruling motive he will 
 
 266
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 term 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 impossi- 
 bility! 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 entertained 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 principles in which I have lived were to 
 suppose me capable of deserting 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 off all intercourse 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, as 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 prospect of doing such little good as might be in my 
 power, fall from an active and honourable station into 
 
 267
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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!' said Peveril, animated at the same 
 time by his own feelings and by the sight of the emo- 
 tions which his companion in vain endeavoured to sup- 
 press — '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? Wliom have you to abandon? Your father? 
 The good old cause, as it is termed, is dearer to him 
 than a thousand daughters; and setting him aside, what 
 tie is there between you and this barren isle — between 
 my Alice and any spot of the British dominions where 
 her Julian does not sit by her? ' 
 
 'Oh, Julian,' answered the maiden, 'why make my 
 duty more painful by visionary projects, which you 
 ought not to name or I to listen to? 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 
 
 268
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 throw his arm around her; '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 continue under the mer- 
 cenary charge of yonder foolish woman? What could his 
 pride desire better for you than the establishment which 
 will one day be mine? Come then, Alice, and since you 
 condemn me to banishment — since you deny me a share 
 in those stirring achievements which are about to agi- 
 tate England — come! do you, for you only can — do 
 you reconcile me to exile and inaction, and give happi- 
 ness to one who, for your sake, is willing to resign 
 honour ! ' 
 
 '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 not!' 
 
 'Say not for my sake you must not, Alice,' said 
 Peveril, eagerly; ' this is adding insult to 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 he spoke, in joyful anticipation 
 of the consent which he implored, Alice found means to 
 collect together her resolution, which, staggered by the 
 
 269
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 eagerness of her lover, the impulse of her own affections, 
 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 to 
 Julian's proposal. 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 sim- 
 pHcity not unmingled with dignity, 'Julian, I always 
 knew I 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 to 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 not bring 
 an ignoble name into your ancient house. If hereafter, 
 in your line, there should arise some who may think the 
 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 not sensible that 
 they show plainly it is your own pride, not regard for 
 me, that makes you resist the happiness of both?' 
 
 'Not so, Julian — not so,' answered Alice, with tears 
 in her eyes; 'it is the command of duty to us both — of 
 duty, 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 
 
 270
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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, AHce,' answered Julian, *I understand 
 you not. If a course of action is good, it needs no vindi- 
 cation 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 over- 
 power me with your passion. Had the patriarch des- 
 tined his son to death upon any less ground than faith 
 and humble obedience to a Divine commandment, he 
 had meditated 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 spurred 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 
 
 271
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 everything, be jealous of every one, even of 
 those to whom it may seem almost impossible, from cir- 
 cumstances, 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 Bridgenorth. On this second occasion his coun- 
 tenance exhibited anger mixed with solemnity, 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 daugh- 
 ter, 'for the pains you have taken to traverse my de- 
 signs towards this young man and towards yourself, 
 I thank you for the hints you have thrown out before 
 my appearance, the suddenness of which alone has 
 prevented you from carrying 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, 
 
 272
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 with her eyes fixed on the 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 to thank also for some les- 
 sons, which may teach me to rest satisfied with the 
 churl's blood which nature has poured into my veins, 
 and with the rude nurture which my father allotted to 
 me.' 
 
 *I understand you not, sir,' replied Julian Peveril, 
 who, feeling the necessity of saying something, could 
 not, at the moment, find anything more fitting to say. 
 
 'Yes, sir, I thank you,' said Major Bridgenorth, in 
 the same cold, sarcastic tone, 'for having shown me 
 that breach of hospitality, infringement of good faith, 
 and such-like peccadilloes, are not utterly foreign to the 
 mind and conduct of the heir of a knightly house of 
 twenty descents. It is a great lesson to me, sir; for hith- 
 erto I had thought with the vulgar that gentle manners 
 went with gentle blood. But perhaps courtesy is too 
 chivalrous a quality to be wasted in intercourse with a 
 Round-headed fanatic like myself.' 
 
 'Major Bridgenorth,' said Julian, 'whatever has hap- 
 pened in this interview which may have displeased you 
 has been the result of feelings suddenly and strongly 
 animated by the crisis of the moment : nothing was pre- 
 meditated.' 
 
 'Not even your meeting, I suppose?' replied Bridge- 
 north, in the same cold tone. 'You, sir, wandered hither 
 from Holm-Peel, my daughter strolled forth from the 
 87 273
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Black Fort ; and chance, doubtless, assigned you a meet- 
 ing by the stone of Goddard Crovan? Young man, dis- 
 grace 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 forgotten.' 
 
 'On my honour, sir,' said Julian, 'your daughter is 
 guiltless of all that can offend you: she resisted every 
 offer which the headstrong 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 Bridgenorth 
 again signed with his hand to his daughter to withdraw. 
 
 'I obey you, father,' said Alice, who had by this time 
 recovered from the extremity of her surprise — ' I obey 
 you; but Heaven is my witness that you do me more 
 than injustice in suspecting 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 danger- 
 ous 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 per- 
 ils; 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 Bridgenorth, 'you have 
 spoken your say. Retire, and let me complete the con- 
 ference which you have so considerately commenced.' 
 
 274
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *I go, sir/ said Alice. 'Julian, to you my last words 
 are, and I would speak them with my last breath — 
 " Farewell, and caution " ! ' 
 
 She turned from them, disappeared among the under- 
 wood, 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 endanger 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 Bridgenorth 
 made this observation, 'there are few things which I 
 would not face to — to — deserve your good opinion.' 
 
 'Or rather to win my daughter's hand,' said Bridge- 
 north. '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 sur- 
 mounted that bounding wall of aristocratical 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 spurns 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 were concerned, 
 that Julian felt it in the last degree difficult to reply. 
 At length, perceiving that Major Bridgenorth seemed 
 resolved quietly to await his answer, he mustered up cour- 
 age to say, ' The feelings which I entertain towards your 
 daughter, Master Bridgenorth, are of a nature to super- 
 
 275
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sede many other considerations, to which, in any other 
 case, I should feel it my duty to give the most reveren- 
 tial attention, I will not disguise from you, that my 
 father's prejudices against such a match would be very 
 strong ; but I devoutly believe they would disappear when 
 he came to know the merit of Alice Bridgenorth, and to 
 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 take 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 irregular and uncertain, that, although Julian had 
 but a few minutes before urged to Alice a private mar- 
 riage, and an elopement to the Continent, as a measure 
 upon which the whole happiness of his life depended, 
 the proposal seemed not to him half so delightful when 
 stated by the calm, cold, dictatorial accents of her 
 father. It sounded no longer like the dictates of ardent 
 passion, throwing all other considerations aside, but as 
 a distinct surrender of the dignity of his house to one who 
 seemed to consider their relative situation as the triumph 
 of Bridgenorth over Peveril. He was mute for a mo- 
 ment, in the vain attempt to shape his answer so as at 
 once to intimate acquiescence in what Bridgenorth 
 stated and a vindication of his own regard for his par- 
 ents and for the honour of his house. 
 
 This delay gave rise to suspicion, and Bridgenorth's 
 eye gleamed and his lip quivered while he gave vent to 
 it. * Hark ye, young man — deal openly with me in this 
 matter, if you would not have me think you the exe- 
 
 276 
 
 \
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 crable villain who would have seduced an unhappy girl 
 under promises which he never designed to fulfil. Let 
 me but suspect this, and you shall see, on the spot, how 
 far your pride and your pedigree will preserve you 
 against the just vengeance of a father.' 
 
 'You do me wrong,' said Peveril — 'you do me in- 
 finite 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 offered by man 
 to woman. I only hesitated, because you think it neces- 
 sary to examine me so very closely, and to possess your- 
 self 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 Bridge- 
 north : ' 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 reconcile 
 me to the match which you have proposed to me, how- 
 ever 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 
 duty, and you shall soon see how eagerly I will obey your 
 directions, or submit to your conditions.' 
 
 277
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'They are summed in few words,' answered Bridge- 
 north : ' be an honest man, and the friend of your coun- 
 try.' 
 
 ' No one has ever doubted,' rephed Peveril, ' that I am 
 both.' 
 
 'Pardon me,' rephed 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, suc- 
 ceeding to the agitations of the Civil War, had made 
 men indifferent to state affairs, and more willing to cul- 
 tivate 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 cannot continue 
 long. Already, many of those who most desired the re- 
 turn of Charles Stuart regard him as a king whom Hea- 
 ven, importuned 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 fash- 
 ion, were I not aware that you. Master JuHan, were free 
 from such stain of the times. Heaven, that rendered the 
 King's course of license fruitful, has denied issue to his 
 bed of wedlock ; and in the gloomy and stern character 
 of his bigoted successor we already see what sort of mon- 
 arch 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 us birth.' Peveril 
 
 278
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 remembered the warning which he had received from 
 Alice, and bent his eyes on the ground, without return- 
 ing any reply. 'How is it, young man,' continued 
 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 Bridge- 
 north,' 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 deceive each 
 other. What is the nature of this call? By whom is it to 
 be sounded? And what are to be the results? for I think 
 you have already seen enough of the evils of civil war to 
 be wary of again awakening its 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 its vassals. But it is not of war that I 
 was about to speak,' he added, assuming a milder tone. 
 'The evils of which England now complains are such as 
 can be remedied by the wholesome administration of 
 her own laws, even in the state in which they are still 
 suffered to exist. Have these laws not a right to the sup- 
 port of every individual who hves under them? Have 
 they not a right to yours? ' 
 
 As he seemed to pause for an answer, Peveril replied, 
 279
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *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 to me, no 
 man will more willingly discharge the duty of a faithful 
 liegeman to the law as well as the king. But 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 Bridge- 
 north, 'no longer doting upon restored monarchy, but 
 awakened, as with a peal of thunder, to the perilous state 
 of our religion and of our freedom. I appeal to your own 
 conscience, Julian Peveril, whether this awakening hath 
 not been in time, since you yourself know, and none 
 better than you, the secret but rapid strides which Rome 
 has made to erect her Dagon of idolatry within our 
 Protestant land.' 
 
 Here Julian, seeing, or thinking he saw, the drift of 
 Bridgenorth's suspicions, hastened to exculpate himself 
 from the thought of favouring the Roman Catholic re- 
 ligion. 'It is true,' he said, 'I have been educated in a 
 family where that faith is professed by one honoured in- 
 dividual, and that I have since travelled in Popish coun- 
 tries; 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 usurpation of that 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, free- 
 dom of conscience, and pure rehgion.' 
 
 ' Spoken like the son of your excellent mother ! ' said 
 
 280
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Bridgenorth, grasping his hand, 'for whose sake I have 
 consented to endure so much from your house unre- 
 quited, 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 priests 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! that church, as now constituted, usurps scarcely 
 less than Rome herself upon men's consciences and lib- 
 erties; yet, out of the weakness of this half-reformed 
 church, may God be pleased to work out deliverance 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 Epis- 
 copal ordination. It is not for us to challenge the in- 
 strument, so that our escape is achieved from the net 
 of the fowler. Enough, that I find thee not as yet en- 
 lightened with the purer doctrine, but prepared to profit 
 by it when the spark shall reach thee. Enough in es- 
 pecial, that I find thee willing to uplift thy testimony, 
 to cry aloud and spare not, against the errors and arts 
 of the Church of Rome. But, remember, 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 
 unbiassed sentiments of my heart, shall, upon no proper 
 
 281
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 occasion, want the support of my open avowal; and I 
 think it strange you should doubt me so far.' 
 
 *I doubt thee not, my young friend,' said Bridge- 
 north; '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 Scripture. But 
 there shall come a stronger than he, and make forcible 
 entry, displaying on the battlements that sign of faith 
 in which alone there is found salvation. Watch, hope, 
 and pray, that the hour may come ! ' 
 
 There was a pause in the conversation, which was first 
 broken by Peveril. 'You have spoken to me in riddles, 
 Major Bridgenorth; and I have asked you for no explan- 
 ation. Listen to a caution on my part, given with the 
 most sincere good-will. Take a hint from me, and be- 
 lieve it, though it is darkly expressed. You are here — 
 at least are believed to be here — on an errand 
 dangerous to the lord of the island. That danger will be 
 retorted on yourself, if you make Man long your place 
 of residence. Be warned, and depart in time.' 
 
 'And leave my daughter to the guardianship of Julian 
 Peveril? Runs not your counsel so, young man?' an- 
 swered Bridgenorth. 'Trust my safety, JuHan, to my 
 own prudence. I have been accustomed to guide my- 
 self through worse dangers than now environ me. 
 But I thank you for your caution, which I am wilHng 
 to believe 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 for- 
 bear every thought of seeing her, save through me. I 
 
 282 
 
 )
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 true and loving child of his oppressed 
 and deluded country. Farewell! Do not answer me 
 now; thou art yet in the gall of bitterness, and it may 
 be that strife, which I desire not, should fall between 
 us. Thou shalt hear of me sooner than thou thinkest 
 for.' 
 
 He shook Peveril heartily by the hand, and again bid 
 him farewell, leaving him under the confused and min- 
 gled impression of pleasure, doubt, and wonder. Not a 
 little 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 father, that Bridgenorth was desirous, as the 
 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 re- 
 sembled unworthy or truckling compliance with tenets 
 which my heart disowns ; and well I know, were I mean 
 enough to do so, even the authority of thy father were 
 insufficient to compel thee to the ratification of so mean 
 a bargain. But let me hope better things. Bridgenorth, 
 though strong-minded and sagacious, is haunted by the 
 fears of Popery, which are the bugbears of his sect. 
 My residence in the family of the Countess of Derby 
 is more than enough to inspire him with suspicions of my 
 faith, from which, thank Heaven, I can vindicate myself 
 with truth and a good conscience.' 
 
 283
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 So thinking, he again adjusted the girths of his pal- 
 frey, replaced the bit which he had slipped out of its 
 mouth that it might feed at liberty, and mounting, pur- 
 sued his way back to the Castle of Holm-Peel, where he 
 could not help fearing that something extraordinary 
 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. Leav- 
 ing his faithful companion, Fairy, in the village as 
 before, Julian entered the castle, and found all within 
 in the same state of quietness and good order which 
 external appearances had announced. 
 
 y
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Now rede me, rede me, brother dear, 
 
 Throughout Merry England, 
 Where will I find a messenger. 
 
 Betwixt us two to send. 
 
 Ballad of King Estmere. 
 
 Julian's first rencounter, after re-entering the castle, 
 was with its young lord, who received him with his 
 usual kindness and lightness of humour. 
 
 * Thrice welcome, Sir Knight of Dames/ said the earl; 
 'here you rove gallantly, and at free will, through 
 our dominions, fulfilling of appointments and achieving 
 amorous adventures; while we are condemned to sit in 
 our royal halls, as dull and as immovable as if our 
 Majesty was carved on the stern of some Manx smug- 
 ghng 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 predicaments, and you have 
 not equalled mine.' 
 
 'I am happy to hear, at least, that you have had no 
 disagreeable employment,' said Julian; 'the morning's 
 alarm has blown over, I suppose?' 
 
 'In faith it has, Julian; and our close inquiries cannot 
 find any cause for the apprehended insurrection. That 
 
 28s
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Bridgenorth is in the island seems certain; but private 
 affairs of consequence are alleged as the cause of his 
 visit; and I am not desirous to have him arrested unless 
 I could prove some malpractices 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 sol- 
 emn communication. It will be partly apologetical, I 
 suppose; for we begin to think our retreat rather un- 
 royal, and that, like the wicked, we have fled when no man 
 pursued. This idea afflicts my mother, who, as a queen- 
 dowager, 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 disconcerted and out of hu- 
 mour accordingly. In the meanwhile, my sole amuse- 
 ment has been the grimaces and fantastic gestures of 
 that ape Fenella, who is more out of humour, and more 
 absurd in consequence, than you ever saw her. Morris 
 says it is because you pushed her downstairs, Julian — ■ 
 how is that?' 
 
 'Nay, Morris has misreported me,' answered Julian; 
 'I did but lift her w/>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 mo- 
 ment so critical, was dangerous to the state of our garri- 
 son,' answered the earl; 'it shows how dearly she esteems 
 my mother's safety, 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 
 
 286 
 
 f
 
 PEVERn. OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 formality of the count- 
 ess's household permitted. She herself, accompanied by 
 her gentlewoman and attendants, retired early after the 
 tables were drawn; and the young gentlemen were left 
 to their own company. Wine had, for the moment, no 
 charms for either ; for the earl was out of spirits from 
 ennui, and impatience of his monotonous 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 em- 
 brasure 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 chamber itself. In one of these sat the Earl 
 of Derby, busied in looking over some of the new publi- 
 cations which had been forwarded 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 variety to engage his attention. 
 
 Peveril, on his part, held a pamphlet also in his hand, 
 without giving, or affecting to give, it even his occa- 
 sional attention. His whole soul turned upon the inter- 
 view which he had had that day with Alice Bridgenorth 
 
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 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and with her father; while he in vain endeavoured to 
 form any hypothesis which could explain to him why 
 the daughter, to whom he had no reason to think him- 
 self indifferent, should have been so suddenly desirous 
 of their eternal separation, while her father, whose 
 opposition he so much dreaded, seemed to be at least 
 tolerant of his addresses. He could only suppose, 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 too much reason to appre- 
 hend that her father's favour could only be conciliated 
 by something, on his own part, approaching to derelic- 
 tion of principle. But by no conjecture which he could 
 form could he make the least guess concerning the na- 
 ture of that compliance of which Bridgenorth seemed 
 desirous. He could not imagine, notwithstanding Alice 
 had spoken of treachery, that 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 proceeding 
 was totally inconsistent with the conduct of Major 
 Bridgenorth in every other respect, besides his being too 
 calm and cold-blooded to permit of his putting a mortal 
 affront upon the son of his old neighbour, to whose 
 mother he confessed so much of obhgation. 
 
 While Peveril in vain endeavoured to extract some- 
 thing hke a probable theory out of the hints thrown out
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 by the father and by the daughter — not without the 
 additional and lover-Hke labour of endeavouring to 
 reconcile his passion to his honour and conscience — 
 he felt something gently pull him by the cloak. He un- 
 clasped 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, with- 
 out much consciousness upon what they rested, he 
 beheld beside him the little dumb maiden, the elfin 
 Fenella. She was seated on a low cushion or stool, with 
 which she had nestled close to Peveril's side, and had 
 remained there for a short space of time, expecting, no 
 doubt, he would become conscious of her presence; until, 
 tired of remaining unnoticed, she at length solicited his 
 attention in the manner which we have described. 
 Startled out of his reverie by this intimation of her 
 presence, he looked down, and could not, without inter- 
 est, behold this singular and helpless being. 
 
 Her hair was unloosened, 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 her aspect 
 was so familiar to him, could hardly persuade himself 
 87 289
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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, tender, 
 and pathetic cast of countenance, aided by the expression 
 of the large dark eyes, which, as they were turned up 
 towards Julian, glistened with moisture, that, neverthe- 
 less, did not overflow the eyelids. 
 
 Conceiving that her unwonted manner arose from a 
 recollection of the dispute which had taken place be- 
 twixt them in the morning, Peveril was anxious to restore 
 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 
 time, moistened with a tear. 
 
 At once, and for the first time in his Hfe, 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; 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 arranged herself in her seat with the 
 rapidity of lightning; and at the same moment, with one 
 
 290 
 
 I
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 turn of her hand, braided her length of locks into a 
 natural head-dress of the most beautiful kind. There 
 was, indeed, when she looked up, a blush still visible 
 on her dark features ; but their melancholy and languid 
 expression had given place to that of wild and restless 
 vivacity, which was most common to them. Her eyes 
 gleamed with more than their wonted fire, and her 
 glances were more piercingly wild and unsettled than 
 usual. To Juhan's inquiry, 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-apart- 
 ment and that to which Peveril now followed his mute 
 guide; yet, in going thither, he had time enough to 
 suffer cruelly from the sudden suspicion that this un- 
 happy girl had misinterpreted the uniform kindness 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 creature 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 entertained 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 
 
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 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 her infirmity rendered her pres- 
 ence no bar to the most confidential conversation, the 
 countess proceeded to address Peveril as if they had 
 been literally alone together. 
 
 * JuHan,' 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 en- 
 gaged 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 imposed, 
 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.' 
 
 292
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 '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, hke 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,' an- 
 swered Peveril, *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, 're- 
 semble more the dreams of a sick man than the regular 
 information which I might have expected from such 
 correspondents as mine ; their expressions are like 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 detected amongst the Catholics, 
 which has spread far wider and more uncontrollable 
 
 ^ The reader cannot have forgotten that the Earl of Derby was head 
 of the great house of Stanley. 
 
 293
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 ; yet it is received by the credulous people 
 of England with the most imdoubting belief.' 
 
 'This is a singular delusion to rise without some real 
 ground/ answered Julian. 
 
 'I am no bigot, cousin, though a Catholic,' replied the 
 countess. 'I have long feared that the well-meant zeal 
 of our priests for increasing 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 CathoHc faith; and the same 
 event has doubled the hate and jealousy of the Protes- 
 tants. So far, I fear, there may be just cause for sus- 
 picion that the duke is a better Catholic than an Eng- 
 lishman, and that bigotry has involved him, as avarice, 
 or the needy greed of a prodigal, has engaged his bro- 
 ther, 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; 
 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 
 
 294
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 English Catholics themselves — 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 take his choice among them. In the 
 obscure and brief communications 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,' rephed the countess, 'with his usual selfish 
 prudence, truckles to the storm; and will let cord and 
 axe do their work on the most innocent men in his do- 
 minions rather than lose an hour of pleasure in attempt- 
 ing their rescue. And for the Royalists, either they have 
 caught the general deHrium which has seized on Protes- 
 tants in general, or they stand aloof and neutral, afraid 
 to show any interest in the unhappy Catholics, lest they 
 be judged altogether 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 improbabihties which 
 have been accumulated by these wretched informers is 
 instantly hunted down, as one who would smother the 
 discovery of the plot. It is indeed an awful tempest; 
 
 295
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 
 JuHan; 'and that there were agents in this island whose 
 object was to excite insurrection.' 
 
 'Yes,' answered the countess, and her eye flashed fire 
 as she spoke; 'and had my advice been listened to, they 
 had been apprehended in the 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?' inquired 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 
 
 296
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 JuHan Peveril. 'I will go with him and share his 
 fate, be it what it may.' 
 
 'Alas, foolish boy!' answered the countess, 'as well 
 may you ask a hungry lion to feel compassion as a preju- 
 diced and furious people to do justice. They are like 
 the madman at the height of frenzy, who murders with- 
 out 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 
 be. The noble and generous people of England cannot 
 be thus strangely misled. Whatever prepossessions may 
 be current among the more vulgar, the Houses of Legis- 
 lature cannot be deeply infected by them; they will 
 remember their own dignity.' 
 
 'Alas! cousin,' answered the countess, 'when did 
 EngUshmen, even of the highest degree, remember any- 
 thing when hurried away by the violence of party feel- 
 ing? Even those who have too much sense to beUeve 
 in the incredible fictions which gull the multitude, will 
 beware how they expose them, if their own political 
 party can gain a momentary advantage by their being 
 accredited. 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 compan- 
 ions for the humour of the times, his intercourse has 
 been with the versatile Shaftesbury, the mercurial 
 Buckingham — men who would not hesitate to sacrifice 
 to the popular Moloch of the day whatsoever or whom- 
 
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 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 soever whose ruin could propitiate the deity. Forgive a 
 mother's tears, kinsman; but I see the scaffold 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 communicate with those whom you 
 point out to me, and only with them; and I trust soon 
 to send you information that this delusion, however 
 strong it may now be, is in the course of passing away; 
 at the worst, I can apprize 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 Ustened with a countenance in which 
 the anxiety of maternal affection, which prompted her 
 to embrace Peveril's generous offer, struggled with her 
 native disinterested and generous disposition. 'Think 
 what you ask of me, Julian,' she replied, with a sigh. 
 '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 situ- 
 ation, 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 whisper, I presume, how- 
 ever 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 
 
 298
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 this generous 
 reasoning 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 sup- 
 port of an affectionate husband; such is the interested 
 reasoning to which we are not ashamed to subject our 
 better feelings ! ' 
 
 'Do not call it so, madam,' answered Peveril; 'think 
 of me but as the younger brother of my kinsman. You 
 have ever done by me the duties 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 inquire into the 
 temper of the times. I will instantly go and announce 
 my departure to the earl.' 
 
 'Stay, Julian, ' said the countess; 'if you must make 
 this journey in our behalf — and, alas! I have not gen- 
 erosity enough to refuse your noble proffer — you must 
 go alone, and without communication 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 swim- 
 mer who attempts to save a drowning man is involved 
 in his fate, if he permit the sufiferer to grapple with 
 him.' 
 
 'It shall be as you please, madam,' said Peveril; *I 
 am ready to depart upon half an hour's notice.' 
 
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 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'This night, then,' said the countess, after a mo- 
 ment's pause — ' this night I will arrange the most 
 secret means of carrying your generous project into 
 effect ; for I would not excite that prejudice 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 JuUan; 'I will do nothing 
 that can draw on me imnecessary attention ; 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 per- 
 fect fairness of intentions.' 
 
 *I believe you are right,' answered the countess, after 
 a moment's consideration; and then added, 'You pro- 
 pose, doubtless, to pass through Derbyshire and visit 
 Martindale Castle?' 
 
 'I should wish it, madam, certainly,' replied Peveril, 
 'did time permit and circumstances render it advisable.' 
 
 'Of that,' said the countess, 'you must yourself judge. 
 Despatch is, doubtless, desirable; on the other hand, 
 arriving from your own family seat, you will be less an 
 object of doubt and suspicion 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 get 
 ready some despatches 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 de- 
 fraying your expenses. Nor is this all; for, as I must 
 
 300
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 trust your zeal and prudence to act in our behalf when 
 occasion shall demand, I will furnish you with efifectual 
 recommendations to our friends and kindred, entreating 
 and enjoining them to render whatever aid you may re- 
 quire, either for your own protection or the advance- 
 ment of what you may propose in our favour.' 
 
 Peveril made no further opposition to an arrangement 
 which in truth the moderate state of his own finances 
 rendered almost indispensable, 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; after 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 immediate 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 Bridge- 
 north, 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 
 
 301 
 
 ^'1 ilf^f^Sr^i OTSTV
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 following letter, explaining his situation, as far as Jus- 
 tice 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 com- 
 mand you have laid on me, yet I can claim little merit 
 for my compUance, since, without 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 com- 
 mand 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 nature; and I 
 would not that you concealed from Major Bridgenorth 
 one syllable of what I now avow. 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 convinced there 
 can be only one mind between us; nor can I refuse to 
 listen to his experience and wisdom, even where they 
 may ultimately 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 I could transcribe it again and 
 again, rather than conclude the last communication 
 which I can have with you for some time. My sole 
 
 302
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 comfort is, that my stay will scarce be so long as to per- 
 mit you to forget one who never can forget you.' 
 
 He held the paper in his hand for a minute after he 
 had folded, but before he had sealed, it, while he hur- 
 riedly debated in his own mind whether he had not ex- 
 pressed himself towards Major Bridgenorth in so con- 
 ciliating a manner as might excite hopes of proselytism 
 which his conscience told him he could not realise with 
 honour. Yet, on the other hand, he had no right, from 
 what Bridgenorth had said, to conclude that their 
 principles were diametrically irreconcilable; for though 
 the son of a high Cavalier, and educated in the family 
 of the Countess of Derby, he was himself, upon princi- 
 ple, an enemy of prerogative and a friend to the liberty 
 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 that, during his absence, Major Bridgenorth 
 might be tempted to change the residence of his daugh- 
 ter, and perhaps to convey her altogether out of his 
 reach. 
 
 Having sealed his letter, Julian 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 intended for the family at Black 
 Fort were usually deposited; and for that purpose to 
 take horse immediately. He thus got rid of an attend- 
 ant who might have been in some degree a spy on his 
 motions. He then exchanged the dress he usually wore 
 for one more suited to travelling; and, having put a 
 change or two of linen into a small cloak-bag, selected 
 
 303
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 as arms a strong double-edged sword and an excellent 
 pair of pistols, which last he carefully loaded with dou- 
 ble bullets. Thus appointed, and with 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 cir- 
 cumstances in which he was placed, as well as the depriv- 
 ation which he was about to undergo, now revived in full 
 vigour. Fancy, turning from more painful anticipations, 
 suggested to him that he was now entering upon life at 
 a crisis when resolution and talents were almost certain 
 to 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 resolution and 
 the prudence necessary to secure success, how many 
 occurrences might take place to render his mediation 
 necessary to Bridgenorth; and thus enable him, on the 
 most equal and honourable terms, to establish a claim 
 to his gratitude and to his daughter's hand. 
 
 Whilst he was dwelling on such pleasing, though im- 
 aginary, prospects, he could not help exclaiming aloud 
 — *Yes, Alice, I will win thee nobly!' 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 exclamation, and not a little afraid that it had been 
 caught up by some eavesdropper. 'Come in,' he again 
 
 304
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 with 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 to see 
 him, then turned, as if to usher him to her apartment. 
 As he followed her through the long, gloomy, vaulted 
 passages which afforded communication betwixt the 
 various departments of the castle, he could not but 
 observe that her usual light trip was exchanged for a 
 tardy and mournful step, which she accompanied with 
 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 the hands, 
 and other marks of extreme affliction. . 
 
 At this moment a 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 with 
 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 the family. For an instant, Julian could 
 scarce divest himself of the belief that the wailing, 
 gibbering form, which glided before him, with a lamp 
 in her hand, was the genius of his mother's race come 
 to announce to him his predestined doom. It instantly 
 «7 305
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 occurred to him as an analogous reflection, that, if the 
 suspicion which had crossed his mind concerning Fenella 
 was a just one, her ill-fated attachment to him, like 
 that of the prophetic spirit to his family, could bode 
 nothing but disaster, and lamentation, and woe.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Now, hoist the anchor, mates, and let the sails 
 Give their broad bosom to the buxom wind, 
 Like lass that wooes a lovei. 
 
 Anonymous, 
 
 The presence of the countess 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 for- 
 ward the purposes of my mission.' 
 
 'You have caught the general suspicion of this wicked 
 sect already,' said the countess, smiling, 'and are the 
 fitter 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 dis- 
 guised, 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 
 
 307
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 possible.' 
 
 'Whatever you impose on me as a part of my duty, 
 madam, rely on its being discharged punctually,' an- 
 swered Peveril. 'And now, as there is Httle use in defer- 
 ring 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 to 
 go on board to-morrow? ' 
 
 'To-night — this instant if you will,' said Julian; 'my 
 little preparations are complete.' 
 
 'Be ready, then, in your chamber, at two hours after 
 midnight. I will send one to summon you, for our secret 
 must be communicated, for the 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 Martin- 
 dale Castle or otherwise, as you find most advisable. 
 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 White- 
 haven. You have bills of exchange, it is true; but are 
 you provided with ready money to furnish yourself with 
 a good horse?' 
 
 308
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *I am sufl&ciently 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 purchase 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 
 obliged 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 undertaking, my purpose to serve you, my 
 noble kinswoman and benefactress, 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 dan- 
 gers 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 thrust her friend's son on the danger 
 which should have been braved by her own. But O! 
 Julian, I am now a forlorn widow, whom sorrow has 
 made selfish !' 
 
 '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, 
 
 309
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 I am less obnoxious than my noble kinsman. Farewell ! 
 All blessings attend you, madam. Commend me to 
 Derby, and make him my excuses. I shall expect a 
 summons at two hours after midnight.' 
 
 They took an affectionate leave of each other; the 
 more affectionate, indeed, on the part of the countess, 
 that she could not entirely reconcile her generous mind 
 to exposing Peveril to danger on her son's behalf; and 
 Julian betook himself to his solitary apartment. 
 
 His servant soon afterwards brought him wine and 
 refreshments; to which, notwithstanding the various 
 matters he had to occupy his mind, 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 uncer- 
 tainty of the prospect before him, the doubt how Bridge- 
 north 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 slumber impossible. Alternately 
 to recline in the old oaken easy-chair and listen to the 
 dashingof thewaves under the windows, mingled, as the 
 sound was, with the scream of the sea-birds, or to tra- 
 verse the apartment with long and slow steps, pausing 
 occasionally to look out on the sea, slumbering under 
 the influence of a full moon, which tipped each wave 
 with silver — such were the only pastimes he could in- 
 vent, until midnight had passed for one hour; the next 
 
 310
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 was wasted in anxious expectation of the summons of 
 departure. 
 
 At length it arrived : a tap at his door was followed by 
 a low murmur, which made him suspect that the count- 
 ess had again employed her mute attendant as the most 
 secure minister of her pleasure on this occasion. He felt 
 something like impropriety in this selection; and it was 
 with a feeling of impatience alien to the natural generos- 
 ity of his temper that, when he opened the door, he be- 
 held 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 de- 
 layed no longer than was necessary to secure his pistols 
 in his belt, wrap his cloak closer around him, and take 
 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 pos- 
 tern 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 moon- 
 light, which glimmered white and ghastly on the variety 
 of strange and ruinous objects to which we have for- 
 merly alluded, and which gave the scene rather the ap- 
 pearance of some ancient cemetery than of the interior 
 of a fortification. The round and elevated tower, the 
 ancient mount, with its quadrangular sides facing the 
 ruinous edifices which once boasted the name of cathe- 
 dral, seemed of yet more antique and anomalous form 
 when seen by the pale Ught which now displayed them. 
 
 311
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 To one of these churches Fenella took the direct course, 
 and was followed by Julian; although he at once divined, 
 and was superstitious enough to 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 castle; 
 and through this passage were the keys of the castle 
 every night carried to the governor's apartment, so soon 
 as the gates were locked and the watch set. The custom 
 was given up in James the First's time, 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 man- 
 kind as to appear almost nightly in the guard-room, 
 issuing from the passage which we have mentioned at 
 night, and retiring to it at daybreak. The soldiers be- 
 came partly familiarised to its presence ; yet not so much 
 so as to use any license of language while the apparition 
 was visible ; until one fellow, rendered daring by intoxi- 
 cation, 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 mouth gaping, and 
 his hair standing on end, under which horror he died; 
 but, unhappily for the lovers of the marvellous, alto- 
 gether 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 con- 
 structed. In like manner, the guards after that period 
 
 312
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 held another and more circuitous communication with 
 the governor or seneschal of the castle; 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; sometimes only guided over 
 heaps of ruins by the precarious light of the lamp borne 
 by the dumb maiden; sometimes having the advantage 
 of a gleam of moonlight, darting 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 acquaintance 
 with the mazes which his singular companion displayed, 
 as well as the boldness with which she traversed them. 
 He himself was not so utterly void of the prejudices of 
 the times, but that he contemplated, with some appre- 
 hension, the possibiHty of their intruding on the lair of 
 the phantom-hound, of which he had heard so often; 
 and in every remote sigh of the breeze among the ruins 
 he thought he heard him baying at the mortal footsteps 
 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 edi- 
 fice served to 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 
 
 ^ 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 Note ii, p. 411.
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 his musket peacefully grounded by his side. Fenella 
 made a sign to Peveril to move with silence and caution, 
 and then 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 further 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 secur- 
 ity and carelessness of the sentinels, who had suffered 
 such preparations to be made without observation or 
 alarm given; and he hesitated whether he should not 
 call the officer of the guard, upbraid him with negligence, 
 and show him how easily Holm-Peel, in spite of its natu- 
 ral strength, and although reported impregnable, might 
 be surprised by a few resolute men. Fenella seemed to 
 guess his thoughts with that extreme acuteness of ob- 
 servation which her deprivations had occasioned her 
 acquiring. She laid one hand on his arm, and a finger 
 of the other on her own lips, as if to enjoin forbearance; 
 and Julian, knowing that she acted by the direct author- 
 ity 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 the ladder with some 
 precaution, for the steps were unequal, broken, wet, and 
 sHppery; and having placed himself in the stern of the 
 boat, made a signal to 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, 
 
 314
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK' 
 
 made a spring from the last step of it with incredible 
 agility, and seated herself beside Peveril, ere he could 
 express either remonstrance or surprise. He commanded 
 the men once 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 to her mis- 
 tress. Fenella folded her arms and looked at him with a 
 haughty smile, which completely expressed the deter- 
 mination of her purpose. Peveril was extremely embar- 
 rassed; he was afraid of offending the countess, and in- 
 terfering with her plan, by giving alarm, which otherwise 
 he was much tempted 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 per- 
 sonal 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 garrison which, notwithstanding that 
 the oars were muffled and that the men spoke Httle, and 
 in whispers, argued, in Peveril's opinion, great negli- 
 gence on the part of the sentinels. When they were a 
 
 315
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 little way from the castle, the men began to row briskly 
 towards a small vessel which lay at some distance. Pev- 
 eril had, in the meantime, leisure to remark that the 
 boatmen spoke to each other doubtfully, and bent anx- 
 ious looks on Fenella, as if uncertain whether they had 
 acted properly in bringing her off. 
 
 After about a quarter of an hour's rowing, they 
 reached the Httle 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 flew to the ship's side, apparently to pre- 
 vent 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 yoimg 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 cHmbed on board with the dexterity of 
 a sailor, leaving them no means of preventing her en- 
 trance, 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 inter- 
 course in a manner intelligible to both. 
 
 Peveril soon forgot the presence of the mute, as he be- 
 gan to muse upon his own situation, and the probability 
 that he was separated for some considerable time from 
 the object of his affections. 'Constancy,' he repeated 
 to himself — 'constancy.' And, as if in coincidence with 
 the theme of his reflections, he fixed his eyes on the 
 
 316
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 polar star, wliich 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 light were disinterested and noble. 
 To seek his country's welfare, and secure the blessings 
 of domestic peace; to discharge a bold and perilous duty 
 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 some- 
 thing 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 Fenella 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 interest- 
 ing in others ; whose large dark eyes were filled with dew, 
 which ghstened in the moonlight; and the source of whose 
 emotions seemed to be in a partiaHty which might well 
 claim indulgence, at least, from him who was the object 
 of it. At the same time, JuHan resolved to seize the 
 present opportunity for such expostulations with Fen- 
 ella 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 castle, whose towers and 
 extended walls were now scarce visible in the distance; 
 and thus intimated to her the necessity of her return to 
 
 317
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Holm-Peel. She looked down and shook her head, as 
 if negativmg his proposal with obstinate decision. Ju- 
 lian 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 
 entertain; to all which, the maiden only answered by 
 her tears. 
 
 At length, as if driven to explanation by his continued 
 remonstrances, she suddenly seized him by the arm, to 
 arrest his attention; cast her eye hastily around, as if 
 to see whether she was watched by any one; then drew 
 the other hand, edge-wise, across her slender throat, 
 pointed to the boat and to the castle, and nodded. 
 
 On this series of signs, Peveril could put no interpreta- 
 tion excepting that he was menaced with some personal 
 danger, from which Fenella seemed to conceive that her 
 presence was a protection. 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 disembarrass 
 himself of his companion; and, in the meanwhile, acting 
 on the idea of her having harboured a misplaced attach- 
 ment to him, he thought he should best consult her in- 
 terest and his own character in keeping at as great a 
 distance from her as circumstances admitted. With this 
 purpose, he made the sign she used for going to sleep, 
 by leaning his head on his palm; and having thus recom- 
 mended to her to go to rest, he himself desired to be 
 conducted 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 
 
 318
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 Bridge- 
 north call on his name. 
 
 He awoke, and, starting up to quit his bed, became 
 sensible, from the motion of the vessel and the swinging 
 of the hammock, that his dream had deceived him. 
 He was still startled by its extreme vivacity and live- 
 liness. 'JuUan Peveril, help! — JuHan Peveril!' The 
 sounds still rung in his ears; the accents were those of 
 Alice, and he could scarce persuade himself that his im- 
 agination had deceived him. Could she be in the same 
 vessel? The thought was not altogether inconsistent 
 with her father's character and the intrigues 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 inquiry, he jumped out 
 of his hammock, 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 to call loudly to the watch 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 Peveril's demand, what noise 
 that was? — that a boat was going off with the young 
 woman, that she whimpered a Httle 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 
 
 319
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 absolutely necessary to remove Fenella; and although 
 he rejoiced at not having witnessed it, he could not feel 
 sorry that such had been employed. Her pertinacious 
 desire to continue on board, and the difficulty of freeing 
 himseh, when he should come ashore, from so singular 
 a companion, 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 to express resistance or dis- 
 pleasure, had coined them into language, and given 
 them the accents of AHce Bridgenorth. Our imagina- 
 tion plays wilder tricks 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 couch, where he now slumbered se- 
 cure and sound, until day was far advanced, and the in- 
 vitation 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 Jonson. 
 
 Peveril found the master of the vessel rather less rude 
 than those in his station of Hfe usually are, and received 
 from him full satisfaction concerning the fate of Fenella, 
 upon whom the captain bestowed a hearty curse, for 
 obUging him to lay-to until 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? I trust she offered no foolish 
 resistance? ' 
 
 'Resist! mein GoU/ 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 vas ein trick of her old 
 trade.' 
 
 'What trade do you mean?' said Peveril. 
 
 ' 0,' said the seaman, ' I vas know more about her than 
 you, Mynherr. I vas know that she vas a Httle — very 
 Httle 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- 
 haring. I vas know Adrian Brackel veil; he sell de pow- 
 ders dat empty men's stomach and fill him's own purse. 
 97 321
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Not know Adrian Brackel, mein Gott! I have smoked 
 many a pound of tabak with him.' 
 
 Peveril now remembered that Fenella 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 com- 
 passion, 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't; 
 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 the countess 
 and the mountebank, he said, he had made himself; be- 
 cause the countess had hired his brig upon her expedi- 
 tion to the Continent. None else knew where she came 
 from. The countess had seen her on a public stage at 
 Ostend, compassionated her helpless situation and the 
 severe treatment she received, and had employed him to 
 purchase the poor creature from her master, and charged 
 him with silence towards all her retinue.^ '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 fool- 
 ish beoples in the island, they say she is a wechselbalg — 
 what you call a fairy-elf changeling. My faith, they do 
 not never have seen einwechselhalg; for I saw one myself 
 at Cologne, and it was twice as big as yonder girl, and 
 did break the poor people, with eating them up, like de 
 ^ See Note 14. 
 322
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 great big cuckoo in the sparrow's nest; but this Venella 
 eat no more than other girls: it was no wechselbalg in 
 the world.' 
 
 By a different train of reasoning, JuHan had arrived at 
 the same conclusion; in which, therefore, he heartily 
 acquiesced. During the seaman's prosing he was reflect- 
 ing within himself how much of the singular flexibility 
 of her hmbs and movements the unfortunate girl must 
 have derived from the discipHne and instructions of 
 Adrian Brackel; and also how far the germs of her wilful 
 and capricious passions might have been sown during 
 her wandering and adventurous childhood. Aristo- 
 cratic, also, as his education had been, these anecdotes 
 respecting Fenella's original situation and education 
 rather increased his pleasure at having shaken ofif her 
 company; and yet he still felt desirous to know any 
 further particulars which the seaman could communicate 
 on the same subject. But he had already told all he 
 knew. Of her parents he knew nothing, except that 'her 
 father must have been a damned hundsfoot and a schelm, 
 for selHng his own flesh and blood to Adrian Brackel'; 
 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 Peveril's mind con- 
 cerning the fidelity of the master of the vessel, who ap- 
 peared from thence to 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, except- 
 ing as a new mark of the irritability of her temper. 
 
 He amused himself with walking the deck and musing 
 
 323
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 object. It saved him some land 
 journey, in case he visited his father's castle; and the 
 countess's commission would be discharged as effectu- 
 ally the one way as the other. 
 
 The vessel was put, accordingly, before the wind, and 
 ran with great steadiness and velocity. The captain, 
 notwithstanding, pleading some nautical hazards, chose 
 to lie off, and did not attempt the mouth of the Mersey 
 until morning, when Peveril had at length the satisfac- 
 tion of being landed upon the quay of Liverpool, which 
 even then showed symptoms of the commercial prosper- 
 ity 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 formerly, he did not think it proper 
 to go anywhere at present where he might have been 
 unnecessarily recognised. Here he took leave of the sea- 
 man, after pressing upon him with difficulty a small 
 present for his crew. As for his passage, the captain de- 
 cHned any recompense whatever ; and they parted upon 
 the most civil terms. 
 
 The inn to which he was recommended was full of 
 strangers, seamen and mercantile people, all intent upon 
 
 324
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 their own affairs, and discussing them with noise and 
 eagerness peculiar to the business of a thriving seaport. 
 But although 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 mingling 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, ac- 
 cursed plot.' 'Bloody Papist villains.' 'The King in 
 danger — the gallows too good for them,' and so forth. 
 
 The fermentation excited in London had plainly 
 reached even this remote seaport, and was received by 
 the inhabitants with the peculiar stormy energy which 
 invests men in their situation with the character of the 
 winds and waves with which they are chiefly conversant. 
 The commercial and nautical interests 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 ren- 
 dered ten times more odious to the men of commerce, 
 as the badge of their haughty aristocratic neighbours. 
 
 From the Httle which Peveril heard of the sentiments 
 of the people of Liverpool, he imagined he should act 
 
 325
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 most prudently in leaving the place as soon as possible, 
 and before any suspicion should arise of his having any 
 connexion with the party -which appeared to have 
 become so obnoxious. 
 
 In order to accomplish his journey, it was first neces- 
 sary that he should purchase a horse; and for this pur- 
 pose 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 thither to provide himself. 
 
 Joe Bridlesley's stables 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 jour- 
 ney, 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; 
 upon both of which Bridlesley, and those of his trade, 
 contrived, doubtless, to make handsome profits. 
 
 Julian, who was no despicable hcrse-jockey, selected 
 for his purpose a strong, well-made horse, about sixteen 
 hands high, and had him led into the yard, to see whether 
 his paces corresponded with his appearance. As these 
 also gave perfect satisfaction to the customer, it re- 
 mained only to settle the price with Bridlesley, 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 nowadays, 
 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 adjust- 
 ment of what the French dealers call le prix juste. 
 
 326
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 hear- 
 ing, 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 concihat- 
 ing and obUging 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 com- 
 plaisance; and considering that he might acquire some 
 useful information from such a person, was just about 
 to offer him the courtesy of a morning draught, when he 
 observed he had suddenly left the yard. He had scarce 
 remarked this circumstance, before a party of customers 
 entered the place, whose haughty assumption of im- 
 portance claimed the instant attention of Bridlesley 
 and all his militia of grooms and stable-boys. 
 
 'Three good horses,' said the leader of the party, a 
 tall 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.' 
 
 327
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 person- 
 age; and advancing to Julian, demanded, in a very- 
 haughty tone, the surrender of the purchase which he 
 had just made. 
 
 Peveril, with some difl5culty, subdued the strong 
 desire which he felt to return a round refusal to so un- 
 reasonable a request, but, fortunately, recollecting that 
 the situation in which he at present stood required, on 
 his part, much circumspection, he repHed simply that, 
 upon showing him any warrant to seize upon horses for 
 the public service, he must of course submit to resign 
 his purchase. 
 
 The man, with an air of extreme dignity, pulled from 
 his pocket, and thrust into Peveril'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 per- 
 sons who are, or should be, accused by competent wit- 
 nesses of being accessory to, or favourers of, the hellish 
 and damnable Popish Plot at present carried on within 
 the bowels of the kingdom; and charging all men, as 
 they loved their allegiance, to render the said Charles 
 Topham their readiest and most effective assistance, in 
 execution of the duty entrusted to his care. 
 
 On perusing a document of such weighty import, 
 
 328
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Julian had no hesitation to give up his horse to this 
 formidable functionary, whom somebody compared to 
 a lion, which, as the House of Commons was pleased to 
 maintain such an animal, they were under the neces- 
 sity of providing for by frequent commitments; until 
 'Take him, Topham,' became a proverb, and a formid- 
 able one, in the mouth of the pubHc. 
 
 The acquiescence of Peveril procured him some grace 
 in the sight of the emissary, who, before selecting two 
 horses for his attendants, gave permission to the stranger 
 to purchase a grey horse, fnuch inferior indeed to that 
 which he had resigned, both in form and in action, but 
 very little lower in price; as Mr. Bridlesley, immedi- 
 ately on learning the demand for horses upon the part 
 of the Commons 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 
 
 329
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 have the horses at the door of Mr. Shortell, the mercer, 
 in two hours, as we shall refresh ourselves there with a 
 cool tankard, and learn what folks live in the neighbour- 
 hood 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 Danger- 
 field, and Master Everett, you must put on your Pro- 
 testant spectacles, and show me where there is the 
 shadow of a priest or of a priest's favourer; for I 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 dimensions, was more loquacious. 'I 
 take it on my damnation,' said this zealous Protestant 
 witness, ' that I will discover the 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 wilting to 
 do justice, and a House of Commons to uphold prose- 
 cutions, 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; 
 it is but sheer waste to throw them away, as you do, in 
 your ordinary conversation.' 
 
 'Fear you nothing. Master Topham,' answered Dan- 
 gerfield; 'it is right to keep a man's gifts in use; and were 
 I altogether to renounce oaths in my private discourse, 
 
 330
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 how should I know how to use one when I needed it? 
 But you hear me use none of your 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 garnishing my words with oaths out of 
 season, I shall be wanting, when called upon, to declare 
 the height and the depth, the width and the length, 
 of this helHsh plot against the king and the Protestant 
 faith.' 
 
 Dizzy, and almost sick, with listening to the undis- 
 guised brutaHty of these fellows, Peveril, having with 
 difi&culty 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 conver- 
 sation pass, of which he seemed himself the object: — 
 
 'Who is that youth?' said the slow soft voice of the 
 more precise 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 questions 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. 
 
 331
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *And I think I recollect/ said Captain Dangerfield — 
 
 'Come — come, master and captain,' said the author- 
 itative 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 himself 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 unobserved, 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 contained 
 his few necessaries, so that he had no occasion to return 
 thither. He resolved, therefore, to ride some miles 
 before he stopped, even for the purpose of feeding his 
 horse; and being pretty well acquainted with the coun- 
 try, he hoped to 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 Warrington, a place with which he was well ac- 
 quainted; but, without halting in the town, he crossed 
 the Mersey, by the bridge built by an ancestor of his 
 
 1 See Note 15.
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 friend the Earl of Derby, and continued his route to- 
 wards Dishley, on the borders of Derbyshire. He might 
 have reached this latter village easily had his horse been 
 fitter for a forced march; but in the course of the journey 
 he had occasion, more than once, to curse the official 
 dignity of the person who had robbed him of his better 
 steed, while taking the best direction he could through 
 a coimtry with which he was only generally acquainted. 
 
 At length, near Altringham, a halt became unavoid- 
 able; 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 meal-sacks), 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; and, doubt- 
 less, took toll from the public in both capacities. 
 
 Such a place promised a traveller, who journeyed in- 
 cognito, 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.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 In these distracted times, when each man dreads 
 The bloody stratagems of busy heads. 
 
 Otway. 
 
 At the door of the Cat and Fiddle, Julian received the 
 usual attention paid to the customers of an inferior 
 house of entertainment. His horse was carried by a 
 ragged lad, who acted as hostler, into a paltry stable; 
 where, however, the nag was tolerably supplied with food 
 and Htter. 
 
 Having seen the animal on which his comfort, per- 
 haps his safety, depended properly provided for, Peveril 
 entered the kitchen, which indeed was also the parlour 
 and hall of the little hostelry, to try 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 un- 
 dertook to add a substantial dish of eggs and bacon, 
 which perhaps she would not have undertaken for, 
 had not the sharp eye of Peveril discovered 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. 
 
 334
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 i' 
 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 Julian's account, yet the good looks, handsome figure, 
 and easy civility of her new guest soon bespoke the prin- 
 cipal 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 of 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 under- 
 going a slower decoction. The table was covered with a 
 clean huckaback napkin, and all was in preparation for 
 the meal, which Julian began to expect with a good deal 
 of impatience, when the companion who was destined 
 to share it with him entered the apartment. 
 
 At the first glance, JuUan recognised, to his surprise, 
 the same indifferently-dressed, thin-looking person who, 
 during the first bargain which he had made with Brid- 
 lesley, had officiously interfered 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 pos- 
 
 335
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sible. 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 straight 
 up to the landlady, where she toiled on household cares 
 intent, and demanded of her what she meant by prepar- 
 ing 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 dis- 
 charge of her duty, deigned not for some time so much as 
 to acknowledge that she heard the reproof of her guest; 
 and when she did so, it was only to repel it in a magis- 
 terial 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 com- 
 panion, good woman.' 
 
 'Do not "good woman" me, sir,' repUed 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 
 misconstruction upon me. I daresay the eggs and bacon 
 are excellent ; 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 
 
 336
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 watching the dumb show which 
 succeeded. By bringing his head a little towards the 
 left, but without turning round or quitting the project- 
 ing latticed window where he had taken his station, he 
 could observe that the stranger, secured, as he seemed 
 to think himself, 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 supposition. 
 
 *Nay, indeed, and forsooth,' she said, *her house was 
 Liberty Hall; 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 gen- 
 tlemen whose stomachs could not abide bacon, grease, 
 or dripping, especially on a Friday; and what was that 
 to her, or any one in her line, so gentlefolks paid hon- 
 estly 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 turn- 
 ing towards Juhan, 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 land- 
 
 27 337
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 lady 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 them two ; however, they 
 are ready now, and done to a nicety. Here, Alice! — 
 Alice!' 
 
 The sound of that well-known name made Julian 
 start; but the Alice who replied to the call ill resembled 
 the vision which his imagination connected with the 
 accents, being a dowdy, slip-shod 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 
 Whitecraft 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 Pev- 
 eril, 'so you will let me have a flagon.' 
 
 'That you shall, sir, and as good as ever was broached; 
 but I must to the mill, to get the key from the good- 
 man.' 
 
 338
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 So saying, and tucking her dean gown through the 
 pocketholes, 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 beheve so,' said Peveril, not much read in 
 Chaucer, who was then even more neglected than at 
 present; and much surprised at a literary quotation 
 from one of the mean appearance exhibited by the per- 
 son 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 simpHcity of his courtly com- 
 petitor. The description, for instance, of his country 
 coquette — 
 
 Wincing she was, as is a wanton colt, 
 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 remember but by halves.' 
 
 339
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'On the contrary, sir,' replied Peveril, 'you make him 
 more intelligible to me in your recitation than I have 
 found him when I 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 better em- 
 ployed. Shall I offer you some of this fish? ' 
 
 'Not so, sir,' replied Juhan, 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 different from the char- 
 acter he had assumed at Bridlesley 's. His countenance, 
 too, although the features were of an ordinary, not to 
 say mean, cast, had that character of intelligence which 
 education gives to the most homely face; and his man- 
 ners 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 
 
 340
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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, lick- 
 ing his chops, and following 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 cannot 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 benevolence, 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 JuHan; 'and if mine host will 
 share it, I will willingly bestow another quart on him, 
 and on you, sir. I never break old customs.' 
 
 These sounds caught the ear of Gaffer Whitecraft, 
 who had entered the room — a strapping specimen of 
 his robust trade, prepared to play the civil or the surly 
 host as his company should be acceptable or otherwise. 
 At Julian's invitation, he doffed his dusty bonnet, 
 brushed from his sleeve the looser particles of his pro- 
 fessional dust, and sitting down on the end of a bench, 
 
 341
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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. 
 
 Julian 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 it, that they are pursuing the 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 to speak over the news of an 
 evening, nightly I may say, instead of once a week, 
 why the spigot 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 rea- 
 sonable sale of wine for a country corner. Heaven make 
 us thankful, and keep all good Protestants from plot and 
 Popery!' 
 
 'I can easily conceive, my friend,' said Julian, 'that 
 curiosity is a passion which runs naturally to the ale- 
 house; 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 little.' 
 
 'Learn a little of it! Why, it is the most horrible — 
 the most damnable, bloodthirsty beast of a plot — 
 But hold — hold, my good master; I hope, in the first 
 place, you beheve there is a plot? for, otherwise, the 
 
 342
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 justice must have a word with you, so sure as my name 
 is John Whitecraft.' 
 
 '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 anything he cannot understand.' 
 
 'God forbid that anybody should pretend to under- 
 stand it,' said the imphcit 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 them- 
 selves. 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 — come, John Whitecraft,' said his wife, Mo 
 not you demean yourself by naming witnesses along 
 with justices and constables. 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 confort. They rustle in their 
 canonical silks, and swagger in their buff and scarlet, 
 who but they? Ay — ay, the cursed fox thrives — and 
 not so cursed neither. Is there not Dr. Titus Gates, the 
 saviour of the nation — does he not live at Whitehall, 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 Dr. Doddrum's reverence will live these 
 twenty years; and I daresay I am the first that ever 
 wished such a wish,' said the hostess. 'I do not under- 
 stand these doings, not I; and if a hundred Jesuits came 
 to hold a consult at my house, as they did at the White 
 
 343
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Horse Tavern, I should think it quite out of the Hne 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 presently, 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 curtsied down to the 
 ground. 
 
 The horses of both guests were brought forth; and 
 they moimted, in order to depart in company. The host 
 and hostess stood in the doorway to see them depart. 
 The landlord proffered 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 shoul- 
 der 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 resist- 
 ance were occupied with glass and bottle — matters too 
 precious to be thrown away in such a struggle. Appar- 
 ently, 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 intercourse as the 
 
 344
 
 PEVEREL OF THE PEAK 
 
 advertisement of 'man-traps and spring-guns' to pro- 
 tect an orchard. Pressing her hand, in intimation that 
 he comprehended her hint, she shook his warmly in re- 
 turn, and bade God speed him. There was a cloud on 
 John Whitecraft's brow; nor did his final farewell soimd 
 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 land- 
 lady; and unconscious of having done anything to excite 
 the miller's displeasure, he pursued his journey without 
 thinking further of the matter. 
 
 Julian was a Uttle 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 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 
 authorise 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 rude- 
 ness, to shake off the company of one who seemed de- 
 termined, whether spoken to or not, to remain alongside 
 of him. 
 
 Peveril tried the experiment of riding slow; but his 
 companion, determined not to drop him, slackened his 
 
 345
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 pace so as to keep close by him. Julian then spurred his 
 horse to a full trot; and was soon satisfied that the 
 stranger, notwithstanding the meanness of his appear- 
 ance, was so much better 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 bargain of horse- 
 flesh that morning. 
 
 Peveril assented drily, but observed, that the animal 
 would serve his immediate purpose, though he feared 
 it would render him indifferent 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 accus- 
 tomed to make my journey at any rate of motion which 
 may be most agreeable to my company.' 
 
 Peveril made no reply to this polite intimation, being 
 too 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, smiling, 'unless I 
 knew which way you were travelling.' 
 
 * I am uncertain how far I shall go to-night,' said Juhan, 
 willingly misunderstanding the purport of the reply. 
 
 'And so am I,' rephed the stranger; 'but though my 
 horse goes better 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.* 
 
 346
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Julian made no answer whatever to this round intima- 
 tion, but continued to ride on, turning, in his own mind, 
 whether it would not be wisest to come to a distinct un- 
 derstanding with his pertinacious attendant, and to ex- 
 plain, 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 un- 
 willing to be directly uncivil towards a person of gen- 
 tlemanlike manners, he had also to consider that he 
 might very possibly be mistaken in this man's character 
 and purpose; in which case, the cynically refusing 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 encumbrance 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 be- 
 tween 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 
 opportunity of serving his father, or the countess, or 
 Major Bridgenorth, upon whose interest, also, he had 
 promised himself to keep an eye. 
 
 While he revolved these things in his mind, they had 
 journeyed several miles without speaking; and now en- 
 tered upon a more waste country and worse roads than 
 they had hitherto found, being, in fact, approaching 
 the more hilly district of Derbyshire. In travelling on 
 a very stony and uneven lane, Julian's horse repeatedly 
 stumbled ; and, had he not been supported by the rider's 
 
 347
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 judicious use of the bridle, must at length certainly have 
 fallen under him. 
 
 'These are times which crave wary riding, sir,' said 
 his companion ; ' 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, I should suppose; since, by 
 the great caution you observe, you seem to think, the 
 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 conversation 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 startling 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 consciousness of a further 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 pre- 
 sent suspicious times, men may, without censure, avoid 
 communication with strangers. You know not me; 
 and to me you are totally unknown. There is not room 
 for much discourse between us, without trespassing 
 
 348
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 on the general topics of the day, which carry in them 
 seeds of quarrel between friends, much more betwixt 
 strangers. At any other time, the society of an intelli- 
 gent 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 Hf e ; and I am very glad to have you for a 
 companion.' 
 
 *I thank you for the information with all my heart,* 
 said Peveril ; ' and to avail myself of it to the 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 Cath- 
 olic, 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 Gan- 
 lesse, keep your own pace, and I will keep the contrary; 
 for I beg leave to forbear your company.' 
 
 As Peveril spoke 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? St. 
 Anthony! how the warm blood of the Cavaliers is chilled 
 in the young men of the present day ! This young gal- 
 lant, 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 request you will keep your own way.' 
 
 349
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'My way is yours/ said the pertinacious Master Gan- 
 lesse, as he called himself; 'and we will both travel the 
 safer that we journey 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; for 
 which the indifferent tone of the traveller, indeed, af- 
 forded no apt pretext; yet highly disliking his company, 
 and determined to take the first opportunity to rid him- 
 self of it. 
 
 The stranger proceeded at the same pace with him, 
 keeping cautiously on his bridle hand, as if 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; trust 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 the lady gay, a Jesuit in a 
 butler's habit to say grace, an old tale of Edgehill 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 Mis- 
 tress 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 Derbyshire, where the owners retained 
 the ancient faith of Rome. 
 
 'Well, I see I cannot charm you in this way,' con- 
 tinued his companion; 'I must strike another key. I am 
 
 3SO
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 no longer Ganlesse, 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 sin- 
 ners 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 versa tiUty, sir, and could be enter- 
 tained 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 
 stead a gallant recorder, called hypocrisy, that is some- 
 what hke sincerity in form, but of much greater com- 
 pass, 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 aforesaid, 
 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 repeats 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; but I am sure they are burning on your cheek.' 
 
 351
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'You take great freedom, sir,' said Peveril, as they 
 now approached 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 fur- 
 ther company, I will take the turn to the left upon that 
 common; and if you follow me, it shall be at your peril. 
 Observe, I am well armed; and you will fight at odds.' 
 
 '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 convincing doctrine on 
 the pressure of a forefinger, and is apt to equalise 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 anything; 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 foho form, 
 "The Narrative of Simon Canter, otherwise called Rich- 
 ard Ganlesse, concerning the Horrid Popish Conspiracy 
 for the Murder of the King and Massacre of all Protest- 
 ants, as given on oath to the Honourable House of Com- 
 mons; setting forth how far Julian Peveril, Younger, of 
 
 352
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Martindale Castle, is concerned in carrying on the 
 
 .1 
 
 'How, sir? What mean you?' said Peveril, much 
 startled. 
 
 'Nay, sir,' repHed 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 "Narrative " ; and Janeway, New- 
 man, Simmons, and every book-seller of them will tell 
 you that the title is half the narrative. Mine shall there- 
 fore set forth the various schemes you have communi- 
 cated 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 completing the destruc- 
 tion of the Protestant religion, and of the devoted city 
 of London. Truly, I think such a "Narrative," well 
 spiced with a few horrors, and published cum privilegio 
 Parliamenti, 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 I may fairly ask you your purpose in thus bearing 
 me company, and the meaning of all this 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 further purpose, speak it out; I am not to be 
 trifled with.' 
 
 'Good, now,' said the stranger, laughing; 'into what 
 
 an unprofitable chafe you have put yourself ! An Italian 
 
 fuoruscito, when he desires a parley with you, takes aim 
 
 from behind a wall with his long gun, and prefaces his 
 
 1 See Note i6. 
 
 «7 353
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 conference with "Posso Hrare.^' So does your man-of- 
 war fire a gun across the bows of a Hans-mogan India- 
 man, just to bring her to; and so do I show Master Julian 
 Peveril that, if I were one of the honourable society of 
 witnesses and informers, with whom his imagination has 
 associated me for these two hours past, he is as much 
 within 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, 
 willing to ascertain, if possible, the drift of his compan- 
 ion's purpose. 
 
 *In following the counsels of wise physicians'; such 
 was the stranger's answer. 
 
 'And as such,' said Peveril, 'you offer me your ad- 
 vice?' 
 
 '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 that 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 months have changed it. Men who 
 formerly occupied themselves with their own affairs are 
 now swallowed up in matters of state pohcy ; and those 
 tremble 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 
 
 354
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 acquainted with my name and concerns, who first at- 
 taches 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 the 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 take a stranger's warrant for it, 
 we shall sleep in perfect security.' 
 
 'Yet you yourself,' said Peveril, 'but now were anx- 
 ious to avoid observation ; and in that case, how can 
 you protect me? ' 
 
 ' Pshaw ! I 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 
 indifference with which the stranger seemed to assume 
 a superiority to all the circumstances of danger around 
 him ; and after hastily considering the matter with him- 
 self, came to the resolution to keep company with him 
 for this night, at least; and to learn, if possible, who he 
 really was, and to what party in the estate he was at- 
 tached. 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 des- 
 tined 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 
 
 355
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 recollection, 'I embrace your proposal, sir; although, 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 what- 
 ever ; you have named me ; and, knowing me to be Julian 
 Peveril, know you may travel with me in perfect secur- 
 ity.' 
 
 ' The devil I do ! ' answered his companion. ' I travel 
 in the same security as with a lighted petard, which I 
 may expect to explode every moment. Are you not the 
 son of Peveril of the Peak, with whose name Prelacy and 
 Popery are so closely allied, that no old woman of either 
 sex in Derbyshire concludes her prayer without a peti- 
 tion 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 Julian, 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 with 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 enter- 
 tainment.' 
 
 They mended their pace accordingly, and soon arrived 
 
 356
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 at the small solitary inn which the traveller had men- 
 tioned. When its light began to twinkle before them, the 
 stranger, as if recollecting something he had forgotten, 
 *By the way, you must have a name to pass by; for it 
 may be ill travelling under your own, as the fellow who 
 keeps this house is an old Cromwellian. What will you 
 call yourself? My name is — for the present — Gan- 
 lesse.' 
 
 'There is no occasion to assume a name at all,' an- 
 swered Julian. 'I do not incline to use a borrowed one, 
 especially as I may meet with some one who knows my 
 own.' 
 
 *I will call you Juhan, then,' said Master Ganlesse; 
 'for Peveril will smell, in the 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 under 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. ^ 
 * See Note 17.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 He was a fellow in a peasant's garb; 
 
 Yet one could censure you a woodcock's carvingt 
 
 Like any courtier at the ordinary. 
 
 The Ordinary. 
 
 The person who appeared at the door of the little inn 
 to 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 tone and 
 
 tune — 
 
 'Content thee, kind Robin; 
 
 He need Httle care, 
 WTio brings home a fat buck 
 
 Instead of a hare.' 
 
 'You have missed your blow, then?' said the other, 
 in reply. 
 
 *I 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 
 
 358
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 to first,' said Peveril, 
 who began to be considerably imcertain about the char- 
 acter of his companions; '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 to have un- 
 dergone some alterations, to 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 incon- 
 sistent with the appearance of the place. The tablecloth, 
 which was ready laid, was of the finest damask; and the 
 spoons, forks, etc., were of silver. Peveril looked at this 
 apparatus with some surprise; and again turning his eyes 
 attentively upon his travelling-companion Ganlesse, he 
 could not help discovering (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 qual- 
 ity, or to those who are in the constant habit of frequent- 
 ing the best company. His companion, whom he called 
 Will Smith, although tall and rather good-looking, 
 besides being much better dressed, had not, neverthe- 
 less, exactly the same ease 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. 
 
 359
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 After speaking a moment in whispers, Smith said to 
 his companion, ' 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 Ganlesse. 
 
 '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!' replied Ganlesse. 'Heaven forbid I 
 should add to such a calamity ! To stable, then, and see 
 we how our steeds eat their provender, while ours is get- 
 ting ready.' 
 
 They adjourned to the stable accordingly, which, 
 though a poor one, had been hastily suppHed with what- 
 ever was necessary for the accommodation of four excel- 
 lent horses ; 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,' repHed 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 duty 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 
 360
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 com than on an iron bit.' 
 
 While he was unsaddling his horse and shaking down 
 some litter for the poor wearied animal, he heard Smith 
 observe to Ganlesse — ' By my faith, Dick, thou hast 
 fallen into poor Slender's blunder: missed Anne Page 
 and brought us a great lubberly postmaster's boy.' 
 
 'Hush! he will hear thee,' answered Ganlesse; 'there 
 are reasons for all things — it is well as it is. But, pri- 
 thee, 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 hke 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, in- 
 solent vermin about thee that ever eat up a poor gentle- 
 man'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 anything else; it is your jacks- 
 of-all-trades who are masters of none. But hark to 
 Chaubert's signal ! The coxcomb is twangling it on the 
 lute, to the tune of Eveillez-vous, belle endormie. Come, 
 Master What-d'ye-Call (addressing Peveril), "get ye 
 some water and wash this filthy witness from your 
 hand," as Betterton says in the play; for Chaubert's 
 
 361
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 cookery is like Friar Bacon's head — time is — time 
 was — time will soon be no more.' 
 
 So saying, and scarce allowing Julian 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 aU 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 swan-like crests, above glasses and rummers. Clean 
 covers were also placed ■wdthin reach ; and a small trav- 
 elling-case of morocco, hooped with silver, displayed a 
 nimiber of bottles, containing the most approved sauces 
 that culinary ingenuity had then invented. 
 
 Smith, who occupied the lower seat, and seemed to act 
 as president of the 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 chauffettes 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 — wild-fowl — young chickens — veni- 
 son cutlets — and a space in the centre, wet, alas ! by a 
 gentle tear from Chaubert's eye, where should have been 
 the soupe aux ecrivisses. The zeal of that poor fellow is ill 
 repaid by his paltry ten louis per month.' 
 
 362
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'A mere trifle,' said Ganlesse; 'but, like yourself, 
 Will, he serves a generous master.' 
 
 The repast now commenced; and Julian, though he 
 had seen his young friend the Earl of Derby and other 
 gallants affect a considerable 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 Hfe, 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 the 
 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 bouilli, and to forget the Manx 
 custom of bolting the boiled meat before the broth, as if 
 Cutlar MacCulloch ^ and all his whingers were at the 
 door.' Peveril took the hint in good part, and the enter- 
 tainment 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 Derbyshire, 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 you were to meet me, Dick Gan- 
 1 See Note i8. 
 363
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 lesse? ' answered their host, ' and can you suspect me of 
 such an omission? It is true, you must make cham- 
 pagne 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 Chaubert and Tom Beacon have 
 brought some for their own drinking.' 
 
 'Perhaps the gentlemen would not care to impart,' 
 said Ganlesse. 
 
 'O fie! anything in the way of civility,' repHed Smith. 
 'They are, in truth, the best-natured lads aHve, 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 struck the roof of the cabin. Each guest took a 
 large rummer glass of the sparkling beverage, which 
 Peveril had judgment and experience enough to pro- 
 nounce 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 vivant; 'but be 
 wise, most noble pedlar, and take another rummer of 
 this same flask, which you see I have held in an obUque 
 position for your service, not permitting it to retrograde 
 to the perpendicular. Nay, take it off before the bubble 
 bursts on the rim and the zest is gone.' 
 
 'You do me honour, sir,' said Peveril, taking the 
 
 364
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 second glass. * I wish you a better oflSce than that of my 
 cup-bearer.' 
 
 ' 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 I blame thy social concern for the pleasures 
 of others? Why, man, thou dost therein most philosophi- 
 cally 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 quafiing wine in other men's gullets from 
 morning to night — et sic de ccBteris.' 
 
 'Friend Ganlesse,' returned Smith, 'I prithee be- 
 ware; 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 Netherlandish weasand, which ex- 
 panded only on thy natural and mortal objects of aver- 
 sion — Dutch cheese, rye-bread, 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 
 
 365
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 not, in thy bitterest mood, wish a worse fate than 
 to be necklaced somewhat tight by a pair of white 
 arms.' 
 
 'By a tenpenny cord,' answered Smith; 'but not till 
 you were dead ; that thereafter you be presently embow- 
 elled, you being yet alive; that your head be then severed 
 from your body, and your body divided into quarters, 
 to be disposed of at his Majesty's pleasure. 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 in- 
 creased; and Smith, placing the dishes which had been 
 made use of upon the side-table, stamped with his foot 
 on the floor, and the table sinking 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, 'thou art a more complete 
 mechanist than I suspected; thou hast brought thy 
 scene-shifting inventions to Derbyshire in marvellously 
 short time.' 
 
 'A rope and pulleys can be easily come by,' answered 
 Will; 'and with a saw and a plane, I can manage that 
 business in half a day. I love that knack of clean and 
 secret conveyance; thou knowest it was the foundation 
 of my fortunes.' 
 
 'It may be the wreck of them too. Will,' replied his 
 friend. 
 
 'True, Diccon,' answered Will; 'but dum vivimus, 
 vivamus — that is my motto ; and therewith I present 
 
 366
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 you a brimmer to the health of the fair lady you wot 
 of.' 
 
 'Let it come, Will,' replied his friend; and the flask 
 circulated briskly from hand to hand. 
 
 Julian did not think it prudent to seem a check on their 
 festivity, as he hoped in its progress something might 
 occur to enable him to judge of the character and pur- 
 poses of his companions. But he watched 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 en- 
 tertain the most opposite opinions. Ganlesse, if he did 
 not maintain the authority of Gates in its utmost extent, 
 contended that at least it was confirmed in a great mea- 
 sure 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 pubHc. 'I shall never forget,' he said, 'Sir 
 Godfrey's most original funeral. Two bouncing parsons, 
 well armed with sword and pistol, mounted the pulpit 
 to secure the third fellow who preached from being mur- 
 * See Note 19. 
 367
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 dered 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 him- 
 self, in order to give credit to 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 solu- 
 tion 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 circumstances 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-fash- 
 ioned 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 de- 
 test a pallet-bed. So have at another flask, and the new- 
 est lampoon to help it out — 
 
 Now a plague of their votes 
 Upon Papists and plots, 
 And be d — d Doctor Gates! 
 
 Tol de rol.' 
 
 ' See Note 20. 
 
 368
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 '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 possession.' 
 
 '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 tell are things he should have 
 no manner of pretensions 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, 
 
 All joy to great Caesar, 
 Long life, love, and pleasure; 
 May the King live for ever! 
 
 'T is no matter for us, boys.' 
 
 While this Bacchanalian scene proceeded, Julian had 
 wrapt himself 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 be- 
 come hazy and dim as he gazed; he heard the sound of 
 voices, but they ceased to convey any impression to his 
 understanding; and in a few minutes he was faster asleep 
 than he had ever been in the whole course of his life. 
 
 ^ See Note 21. 
 S7
 
 APPENDICES, NOTES, AND 
 GLOSSARY
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 gentleman is naturally interested 
 in the facts which are stated, as representative of the respectable 
 family of Christian, and lineally descended from William Dhone. 
 put to death by the Countess of Derby. I can be no way inter- 
 ested in refusing Mr. Christian this justice, and willingly lend my 
 aid to extend the exculpation of the family, 
 
 fflSTORICAL NOTICES OF EDWARD AND WILLIAM 
 
 CHRISTIAN, 
 
 TWO CHARACTERS IN PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 The venerable Dr. Dryasdust, in a preparatory dialogue, apprises 
 the eidolon, 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 ficti- 
 tious 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 lictitious 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 novel- 
 ist has justly represented them.' 
 
 The adventures ascribed to 'historical characters' would, how- 
 ever, fail in their moral aim if fiction were placed at variance with 
 truth; if Hampden or Sydney, for example, were painted as swin- 
 dlers or Lady Jane Grey or Rachel Russel as abandoned women. 
 
 'Odzooks! must one swear to the truth of a song?' although 
 
 373
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 an excellent joke, were a bad palliation in such a case. Fancy may 
 be fairly indulged in the illustration, but not in the perversion, 
 of fact; and if the fictitious picture 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) Edward, 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 
 silence of several ye'ars 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 hypocrite 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 talking to,' 'in consequence 
 of a tumble from my barouche,' 'as a ruined miner,' or 'as a dis- 
 appointed speculator,' is of no material import. It may be that 
 temporary embarrassment drove me into seclusion, without any of 
 the irresistible inducements alluded to; and want of employment, 
 added to the acquaintance 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 William 
 Dhone ('Brown' or 'Fair-Haired WUham,' this very identical 
 WUham Christian) twanged through the demi-nasal, demi-gut- 
 tural trumpet of the carman, and warbled by the landlady's 
 pretty daughter; 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 
 
 • Not the duke described in Peveril, but the companion of Charles I. in his Spanish 
 tomance. 
 
 374 
 
 J
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 Dhone was the mirror of virtue and patriotism, and that envy, 
 hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness, operate the destruc- 
 tion of the wisest and the best. 
 
 Themes of popular feeling naturally attract the earUest notice 
 of a stranger; and I found the story of this individual, though 
 abundantly garbled and discoloured on 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 elfin page nor maiden fair can be the companion 
 of our walk. 
 
 The loyal and celebrated James seventh Earl of Derby was in- 
 duced, by the circumstances of the times, to fix his chief residence 
 in the Isle of Man from 1643 to 1651.^ During this period he 
 composed, in the form of a letter 2 to his son Charles (Lord 
 Strange), an historical account of that island, with a statement 
 of his own proceedings there, interspersed with much poUtical 
 advice for the guidance of his successor, full of acute observation, 
 and evincing an intimate acquaintance with the works of Machia- 
 velli, 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 furnishes 
 few means of determining the relative dates of his facts, which 
 must 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 murmuring'; '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. 
 
 ' His countess resided at Latham House (her heroic defence of which is well known) 
 until 1644 or 1645, when she also retired to the Isle of Man. A contemporary publica- 
 tion, the Mercurius 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 con- 
 jecture that he had been disappointed of the command he had 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 impeachment. 
 
 * Published in Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, in 1779. 
 
 * Peck, p. 446 — fortiter calumniare, aliquid adhxrebit. 
 
 * Peck, p. 446. ' Loth to dwell too long on one subject,' ' skip over to some other mat> 
 ter.* * Peck, p. 434. 
 
 375
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 The earl's first care was to apply himself to the consideration 
 of these insurrectionary movements ; and as he found some inter- 
 ruption to his proceedings in the conduct of Edward Christian, "- 
 an attempt shall be made, so far as our hmits 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 abilities 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 civilised 
 himself half a year at court, where he served the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham. . . . 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 vertues; and 
 his was of that condition which is reckoned with drunkenness, 
 viz., coveteousness, both marked with age to increase and grow 
 in men. . . . 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 
 
 1 For a history of this family, established in the Isle of Man so early as 1422, see 
 Hutchinson's Rislory oj Cumberlatid, vol. m, p. 146. They had previously been estab- 
 lished in Wigtonshire. 
 
 ' This is an example of the difficulty of arranging the relative dates; 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 (Sacheverell's 
 Account of the Isle of Man, published in 1702, p. 100), the earl being then Lord Strange, 
 but apparently taking the lead in public business during his father's lifetime. 
 
 3 Peck, p. 444. There is apparently some error in Hutchinson's genealogy of the 
 family in his History of Cumberland : ist brother, John, born 1602; 2d, died young; 3d, 
 William, born 1608; 4th, Edward, Lieutenant-Governor of the Isle of Man, 1629 (accord- 
 ing to Sacheverell, p. 100, 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 nineteen 
 or twenty. The person mentioned 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 
 well as Edward, was imprisoned in Peel Castle in 1643. 
 
 ♦ Peck, p. 338, el 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. rx. Another meeting appointed, where he also appears with a good guard. Many 
 busy men speak only Mankes, which a more designing person (probably Captain Chris- 
 tian, a late governor) would hinder, but the earl forbids it; advice about it appearing in 
 public; the Mankesmen great talkers and wranglers; the earl's spies get in with them 
 and wheedle them. Chap x. The night before the meeting the earl consults with his 
 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 v;ould be trouble- 
 some, out of the way, about other matters; the (present) governor afresh commended;
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the chapters (apparently 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 committed 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 have all come in most submisse and loving man- 
 ner.' ^ Pretty efficient means of producing quiet, if the despot 
 be strong enough, and with it such love as suits a despot's fancy! 
 Among the prisoners were Edward Christian and his brother 
 William of Knockrushen; 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 business must be heard next week (either in 1644 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 con- 
 cerns not himself alone. ... If a jurie of the people do passe 
 upon him, being he hath 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 remem- 
 ber one said it was much safer to take men's lives than their 
 estates: for their children will much sooner forget the death of 
 their father than the loss of their patrimonie.' ^ Edward died in 
 custody in Peel Castle in 1650,^ after an imprisonment of between 
 seven and eight years; and so far, at least, no ground can be dis- 
 covered for that gratitude which is afterwards said to have been 
 violated by this family, unless indeed we transplant ourselves to 
 
 what counsellors the properest. Chap. xi. The earl's carriage to the people at his first 
 going over; his carriage at the meeting to modest petitioners, to irapudtnt, to the most 
 confident, and to the most 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 and fined, which quiets them.' 
 
 ' Peck, p. 442. 2 Peck, pp. 448, 449. 
 
 ' Feltham 's Towr, p. i6i, places this event (while a prisoner in Peel Castle), on the 
 authority of a tombstone, in 1660, 'John Greenhalgh being governor.' Now John Green- 
 halgh ceased to be governor in 1651; the date is probably an error in the press for 1650. 
 
 377
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 relative to the exactions of the church, and their ad- 
 justment by a sort of pubhc arbitration in October 1643. 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 import- 
 ant 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 occasion 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 better 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.' 
 
 William the Conqueror, among his plans for the benefit of his 
 English subjects, adopted that of inducing or compelling them to 
 surrender their allodial 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 mea- 
 sure was entirely novel, although the attempt to prevent * alien- 
 ation without license from the lord, for purposes of a less profit- 
 able exaction, may be traced, together with the scenes of violence 
 
 * In the transfer of real estates both parties came into the common law court, and the 
 grantor, 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. 6g, when speaking of the Isle of Man, says, 
 'Upon the sale of a horse, or any contract for any other thing, they make the stipula- 
 tion perfect per Iradilionem stipulae' (by the delivery of a straw). Perhaps a more 
 feasible etymology of 'stipulation' than the usual derivation from stipes (a stake or 
 land-mark), or slips (a piece of money or wages). 
 
 ' Among those instances in which 'the commands of the lord proprietor have (in 
 the emphatic words of the commissioners of 1791, p. 67) 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 geneial restraints made, the inhabitants have, and daily do, notwith- 
 standing the said restraints, buy, sell, give, grant, chop and exchange their farms, lands, 
 tenements, etc., at their liberties and pleasures.' Alienation fines were first exacted in 
 1643. Report of Commissioners 0/ 1791. App. A, No. 7ii Rep. of Law Officers.
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 it produced, through many passages in the ancient records,which 
 would be inexplicable without this clue. 
 
 The earl proceeded, certainly with sufficient energy and con- 
 siderable skill, to the accompHshment 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 tradition 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 William 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 Dhone, and one of the deems- 
 ters excluded from the commission. 
 
 'One presented me a petition against Deem.ster^ 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 observed, that certainly as I temper the matter with 
 him in this, soe shall I prevail 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,^ formerly mentioned, was to this 
 effect, that there might be a fair tryal, and, when the right was 
 recovered, that I 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 commis- 
 sioners, that the Deemster should give this fellow a summe of 
 money. But he would part with none, neverthelesse now it may 
 
 • The governor, comptroller, receiver, and John Cannell, deemster. 
 
 ' Deemster, evidently Anglicised, the person who deems the law — a designation 
 anciently unknown among the natives, who continue to call this officer brehon, identical 
 with the name of those judges and laws so often mentioned in the histories of Ireland. 
 
 ' Peck, p. 447. * Peck, p. 448. 
 
 ' I have ascertained the date of this petition to be 1643. 
 
 379
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 be he will, and I hope be so wise as to assure unto himself his hold- 
 ing, by compounding with me for the lease of the same, to the 
 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.' ^ 
 
 The issue of this piscatory project was but too successful. 
 Ewan bent to the reign of terror, and gave up Ronaldsway to his 
 son William, who accepted the lease, and named his own descend- 
 ants for the lives. Still the objects attained were unsubstantial, 
 as being contrary to all law, written or oral; and the system was 
 incomplete, untU 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 yielding 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 Parlia- 
 ment, 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 
 government ; and the affair of the tenures continued to be a theme 
 of perpetual contest and unavailing complaint, until finally ad- 
 justed 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- 
 
 • Covetousness is not attributed to the head of this family; but the earl makes him- 
 self merry with his gallantry: natural children, it seems, took the name of their father, 
 and not of their mother, as elsewhere, and 'the deemster did not get see many for lust's 
 sake as to make the name of Christian flourish.' Of him, or a successor of the same 
 name, it is related, that he 'won £500 at play from the Bishop of Sodorand Man, with 
 which he purchased the manor of Ewanrigg in Cumberland, still possessed by that 
 family.' 
 
 * Evidence on the mock trial of William Dhone. 
 
 ' 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. 
 
 380 
 
 I
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 join- 
 ing the Royal army on the eve of the battle of Worcester, his 
 flight and imprisonment at Chester, after that signal defeat, and 
 his trial and execution at Bolton in Lancashire, by the officers of 
 the Parhament, on the 15th October of that year. 
 
 Immediately afterwards, Colonel Duckenfield, who commanded 
 at Chester on behalf of the Parliament, proceeded with an arma- 
 ment of ten ships and a considerable military force, for the reduc- 
 tion of the Isle of Man. 
 
 William Christian was condemned and executed in 1662-63, 
 for acts connected 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 individual, all of them 
 
 1 Report of 1791. App. A, No. 71. 
 
 ' A person named Charles Vaughan 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 Parlia- 
 ment officer; that, in answer to some questions, be said, 'The earl did use the inhabit- 
 ants of that isle very hardly, had estreated great fines from the inhabitants, had 
 changed the ancient tenures, and forced them to take leases; that he had taken away 
 one hundred pounds a-year from his 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 sure 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 be- 
 haviour, and not to depart the isle without license. (Insular Records.) The young 
 man in question is said to have been the son of William Christian of Knockrushen. 
 
 ' Some readers may desire an outline of this period. The lordship of the island was 
 given to Lord Fairfax, who deputed commissioners to regulate its affairs; one of them 
 (Chaloner) published an account of the island in 1656. He puts down William Christian 
 as receiver-general in 1653. We find his name as governor from 1656 to 1658 (Sache- 
 verell, p. loi), in which year he was succeeded by Chaloner himself. Among the anom- 
 alies of those times, it would seem that he had retained the office of receiver while oflBci- 
 ating 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,
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 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, eighth Earl of Derby, dated at Latham 
 in September 1662, after descanting on the heinous sin of rebel- 
 lion, 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 proceeded against forth- 
 with, for all his illegal actions at, before, or after the year 1651 (a 
 pretty sweeping range). The indictment charges him with ' being 
 the head of an insurrection against the Countess of Derby in 165 1, 
 assuming 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 ISIr. W. Christian 
 of Ronaldsway within compass of the statute of the year 1422 — 
 that is, to receive a sentence without 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 sufficiently select to approve of 
 sentence without trial, made their return, ' To be tried by course 
 of law.' 
 
 On the 26th November, it is recorded that the governor and 
 attorney-general having proceeded to the jaU 'with a guard of 
 soldiers, to require him (Christian) 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!); where- 
 upon the governor demanded the law of Deemster Norris, who 
 then sat in judication. Deemster John Christian having not 
 
 for aiding what he calls his escape; his son George returned from England, by permission 
 of 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 
 promoting of learning, hath conferred all this revenue upon the ministers, as also for the 
 maintaining of 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. 
 
 1 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 councQ (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 doubtjto refer points of custom- 
 ary law to the deemsters and keys. 
 
 382
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 appeared, and Mr. Edward Christian/ his son and assistant, 
 having also forborne to sit in this court, he the said Deemster 
 Norris 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 clev- 
 erly arranged by the following recorded order, 2gth December — 
 'These of the twenty- four keys are removed of that company, in 
 reference to my honourable lord's order in that behalf; enumerat- 
 ing seven names, not of the seventeen before mentioned, and 
 naming seven others who 'are sworn ^ in their places.' The judi- 
 cature is further 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: ist. Although nearly 
 equalled by some of the subsequent proceedings, they would not 
 be credited on common authority; and 2d, They render all com- 
 ment unnecessary, and prepare the reader for any judgment, 
 however extraordinary, to be expected from such a tribunal. 
 
 Then come the proceedings of the 29th December — the pro- 
 posals, as they are named, to the deemsters ' and twenty-four keys 
 now assembled 'to be answered in point of law.' ist. Any male- 
 factor, 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 
 
 • The grandson of Ewan. It appears by the proceedings of the King in council, 
 1663, that 'he did, when the court refused to admit of the deceased William Christian's 
 plea of the Act of Indempnity, 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 lygi 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 Cannell was now added as a second deemster.
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 in the family of a clergyman (and appears to have been printed 
 on or before 1776 rests chiefly on internal evidence, and on its 
 accordance, in some material points, with facts suppressed or dis- 
 torted in the records, but established in the proceedings of the 
 privy council. It is therefore given without abbreviation, and the 
 material points of evidence in the voluminous depositions on 
 both trials ^ are extracted for reference in a note.^ 
 
 * 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 'with- 
 stand the Lady of Derby in her designs until she had yielded or condescended to their 
 aggrievances'; among which grievances, during the earl's residence, we find incidentally 
 noticed, 'the troop that was in the isle and their free quarterage'; that he had repre- 
 sented 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 twopence or 
 threepence a-piece; that he told his associates that he had entered into correspond- 
 ence with Major Fox and the Parliament, and received their authority to raise the 
 country; that in consequence of this insurrection her ladyship appointed commis- 
 sioners to treat with others 'on the part of the country,' and articles of agreement 
 were concluded (see the speech) which nowhere now appear; that on the appearance 
 of Duckenfield's ships, standing for Ramsay Bay, one of the insurgents boarded them 
 off Douglas, 'to give intelligence of the condition of the country'; the disposable troops 
 marched under the governor, Sir Philip Musgrave, for Ramsay; that when the ship- 
 ping had anchored, a deputation of three persons, viz. John Christian, Ewan Cur- 
 phey, and William Standish, proceeded on board to negotiate for the surrender of the 
 island (where William was does not appear). The destruction of the articles of agree- 
 ment, 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 griev- 
 ances 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 Duckenfield, 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' (Rolt's 
 History of the Isle of Man, published in 1773, p. 8g), rested on the slightest semblance 
 of truth, we should inevitably have found an attempt to prove it in the proceedings 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 armed by the insurgents; the earPs first letter, after his capture and before his 
 trial, says — 'Truly, as matters go, it will be best for you to make conditions for your- 
 self, 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 bom, will doubtless, 
 for his own honour, deal fairly with you.' He seems also to have hoped at that time 
 
 384
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 The last speech of William Christian, Esq., who was executed 
 ad January 1662-63: — 
 
 ' Gentlemen, and the rest of you who have accompanied me this 
 day to the gate of death, I know you expect I should say some- 
 thing at my departure; and indeed I am in some measure willing 
 to satisfy you, having not had the least liberty, since my impris- 
 onment, to acquaint any with the sadness of my sufferings, 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 commit 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 of a pre- 
 tended 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 this 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; 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 secretary, M. Trevach, who is yet living, which agree- 
 ment hath since, to my own ruin and my poor family's endless 
 sorrow, been forced from me. The Lord God forgive them 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 to 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 imtil now I have still been prosecuted and persecuted, nor 
 
 that it might influence his own fate; and the eloquent and affecting letter written imme- 
 diately before his execution repeatsthesameadmonitions to treat. — Roll, pp. 74 and 84. 
 * This fact, as might be expected, is not to be traced on the record of the trial. 
 
 27 385
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 them- 
 selves, whether I have not deserved better things from some of 
 them than the sentence of my bodily destruction, 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; 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 anything with intention to prejudice my sovereign lord the 
 King, nor the late Earl of Derby, nor the now earl; yet notwith- 
 standing, 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 God preserve, and 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 Hberty, 
 I thought good to advise with several gentlemen concerning his 
 Majesty'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 within 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 trust in Him. 
 
 'I may justly say no man in this island knows better than my- 
 self the power the Lord Derby hath in this island, subordinate 
 to his sacred Majesty, of which I have given a full account in my 
 declaration presented to my judges, which I much fear will never 
 see Ught,^ which is no small trouble to me. 
 
 ' The apprehension was but too correct. 
 
 3S6
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 '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 Majesty 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 persecuted; 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 con^rm- 
 ation of Parhament. 
 
 'It is very fit I should say something as to my education and 
 religion. I think 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 several 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 satis- 
 faction, I have Hved 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 qviiet 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 commands; 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 
 violent death, and keep you in peace of conscience all your days! 
 
 'I will now hasten, for my flesh is wilUng to be dissolved, and 
 my spirit to be with God, who hath given me full assurance of His 
 mercy and pardon for all my sins, of which His unspeakable 
 
 387
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 goodness and loving-kindness my poor soul is exceedingly satis- 
 fied.' 
 
 Note.^ — Here he fell upon his knees, and passed some time 
 in prayer; then rising exceedingly cheerful, he addressed the sol- 
 diers appointed for his execution, 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 ; 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 ut- 
 most 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 1663, 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 preferred against him, 
 and not depart the isle without license.' George was prevented, by 
 various contrivances, from serving the King's order; but on pre- 
 senting a second petition, the governor, deemster, and members 
 of councU were brought up to London by a sergeant-at-arms; 
 and these six persons, together with the Earl of Derby, being com- 
 pelled to appear, a full hearing took place before the King in per- 
 son, the Chancellor, the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Chief Baron 
 and other members of council; judgment was extended on the 5th. 
 August, and that judgment was on the 14th of the same month 
 ordered ' to be printed in foUo, in such manner as Acts of ParUa- 
 ment are usually printed, and his Majesty's arms prefixed.' 
 
 This authentic document designates the persons brought up 
 as 'members of the pretended court of justice'; declares 'that the 
 
 > This note is annexed to all the copies of the speech.
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 
 Indempnity,' 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 es- 
 tates 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, or in their journey 
 hither, or in any other way thereunto relating.' The mode of 
 raising funds for the purposes of this restitution is equally pecu- 
 liar and instructive; these 'sums of money are ordered to be fur- 
 nished by the deemsters, members, and assistants of the said 
 Court of Justice,' who are directed 'to raise and make due pay- 
 ment 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 nugatory.) The 
 three members of council were released on giving security to ap- 
 pear, 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 court refused to admit 
 of the deceased W. Christian's plea of the Act of Indemnity, 
 make his protestation against their illegal proceedings, 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 commission, etc., restore and appoint him as deem- 
 ster, so to remain and continue,' etc. — which order was dis- 
 obeyed. And lastly, that ' Henry Nowell, deputy-governor, whose 
 fault hath been the not complying with, and yielding due obedience 
 to, the order 2 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. 
 
 • Ewan Curphey, Samuel Ratcliffe, and John Caesar, men of considerable landed 
 property. 
 
 ' Tradition, in accordance with the dirge of William Dhone, says that the order to 
 stop proceedings and suspend the sentence arrived on the day preceding that of his 
 execution.
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 Of the Earl of Derby no further mention occurs in this docu- 
 ment. The sacrifices made by this noble family in support of the 
 Royal cause drew a large share of indulgence over the exception- 
 able parts of their conduct; but the mortification necessarily con- 
 sequent 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 coimcil, dated 20th August 1670, on a peti- 
 tion 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 complainant 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 cir- 
 cumstances, and they have seemed to require httle comment 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 invulnerable. 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 in- 
 corrigible obstinacy, according to one, of ruthless tyranny, ac- 
 cording 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 WilUam Christian with sufficient profusion. Regarding the first 
 of these crimes — if all that has been affirmed or insinuated in the 
 mock trial rested on a less questionable 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 pecuHar 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 
 
 ' 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 it in a play.' — Peck, 
 p. 436. 
 
 * Peck, passim, 
 
 390.
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the oppressor. If he had lived and died on a larger scene, his 
 memory wovdd 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 liberties of his countrymen; who 
 add, in their homely manner, that he was condemned without trial 
 and murdered without remorse. 
 
 We have purposely abstained from all attempt to enlist the pas- 
 sions 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 to that of individuals. 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 William,' ^ 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: — 
 
 On the Death and Murder of Receiver-General William Christian op 
 
 RONALDSWAV, WHO WAS SHOT NEAR HaNGO HiLL, JANUARY 2, 1662 
 
 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 Dh6ne, sickens our soul. 
 
 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. 
 
 A kind, able patron both to church and to state — 
 What roused their resentment but talents so great? 
 No character's proof against enmity foul; 
 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 Thy pardon, 't is rumour'd, came over the main. 
 Nor late, but conceal'd by a villain ' in grain; 
 
 • The literal translation given to me by a young lady. 
 
 • A person named in the next stanza is said to have intercepted a pardon sent from 
 England for William Christian, found, it is alleged, in the foot of an old woman's stock- 
 ing. The tradition is highly improbable. If Christian had been executed against the
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 T was fear forced the jury to a sentence so foul; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 Triumphant stood Colcott, 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 stain'd, and polluted with gore. 
 He Ronaldsway eyed, as Loghuecolly before, 
 'T was the land sought the culprit, as Ahab before; 
 • And thy fate, etc. 
 
 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 Bcmaccan once knew; 
 The poor rather load it with curses untold; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 Ballalough and the Creggans 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. 
 
 They assert then in vain, that the law sought thy blood. 
 For all aiding the massacre never did good; 
 Like the rooted-up golding deprived of its gold. 
 They languish'd, were blasted, grew withered and old. 
 
 When the shoots of a tree so corrupted remain. 
 Like the brier or thistle, they goad us with pain; 
 Deep, dark, undermining, they mimic the mole; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 Round the infamous wretches who spilt Caesar's blood. 
 Dead spectres and conscience in sad array stood, 
 Not a man of the gang reach'd life's utmost goal; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 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. 
 
 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.
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 From grief all corroding to hope I Ml repair, 
 
 That a branch of the Christians will soon grace the chair, 
 
 With royal instructions his foes to console; 
 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 With a book for my pillow, I dreamt as I lay, 
 That a branch of the Christians would hold Ronaldsway; 
 His conquest his topic with friends o'er a bowl; 
 And thy fate, etc. 
 
 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 DhSne, sickens our soul! ' 
 
 No. II 
 
 At the Court at Whitehall, 
 August the sth, 1663. 
 
 George Christian, son and heir of William Christian, deceased, 
 having exhibited his complaint to his Majesty in council, that his 
 father, being at a house of his in his Majesty's Isle of Man, was im- 
 prisoned by certain persons of that island, pretending themselves 
 to be a court of justice; that he was by them accused of high trea- 
 son, 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 Indempnity, whereof he claimed 
 the benefit; 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 Noris and Hugh Cannell, the two judges (by them in that 
 island called deemsters), and Richard Stevenson, Robert Calcot, 
 and Richard Tyldesley, 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 
 
 • 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 would certainly 
 think the memory of William Dbdne little honoured by his native bard. 
 
 393
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 in the laws, required to be present, and all the parties called 
 in with their counsel and witnesses, after full hearing of the 
 whole matter on both sides, and the parties withdrawn, the said 
 judges being desired to deliver their opinion, did, in presence of 
 the King's council, learned in the laws, declare that the Act of 
 General Pardon and Indempnity did, and ought to be understood 
 to, extend to the Isle of Man, as well as into any other of his 
 Majesty's dominions and plantations beyond 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 Man, although it had 
 not been pleaded, and although there were no proclamations made 
 thereof. His Majesty, being therefore deeply sensible of this vio- 
 lation 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 plantations shall enjoy the full 
 benefit 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 ordered, that all persons any way concerned in the seizure 
 of the estate of the said William Christian, deceased, or instru- 
 mental in the ejection of the widow and children out of their 
 houses and fortune, do take care that intire restitution is 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 WilUam Christian, deceased, was one of the two lives 
 remaining in an estate in Lancashire, that the detriment accrew- 
 ing by the untimely death of the said William Christian therein 
 or in like cases, shall be estimated, and in Hke manner fully re- 
 paired. That in regard of the great trouble and charges the com- 
 plainants have been at in pursuit of this business, ordered that 
 they do exhibit to this board a true account, upon oath, of all ex- 
 pences and damages by them sustained in the journies of them- 
 selves and witnesses, and of all other their charges in the following 
 of this business. 
 
 And whereas Ewan Curghey, Sammual Radcliffe, and John 
 Casar were by the same court of justice imprisoned, and had- their 
 estates seised and confiscated without any legal trial, it is ordered 
 that the said Ewan Curghey, Sammual Radcliffe, and John Casar 
 be likewise restored 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 
 
 394
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 this business, or in their journey thither, or in any other way 
 whatsoever thereunto relating; the which satisfaction, expences, 
 and all other 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 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 untimely 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. 
 
 That Richard Stevenson, Robert Calcott,and Richard Tyldes- 
 ley 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 
 appear 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 Indempnity, 
 make his protestation against their illegal proceedings, and did 
 withdraw himself, and come into England to sollicite his Ma- 
 jesty, 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- 
 governour, whose fault 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 imploy the power and au- 
 thority 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. 
 
 395
 
 APPENDICES TO INTRODUCTION 
 
 (: 
 
 Mgned by) 
 
 Lord Chancellor. 
 
 Earl of Carbery. 
 
 Lord Treasurer. 
 
 Lord Bishop of London. 
 
 Lord Privy Seal. 
 
 Lord Wentworth. 
 
 Duke of Albemarle. 
 
 Lord Berkeley. 
 
 Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Lord Ashley. 
 
 Earl of Berkshire. 
 
 Sir William Compton. 
 
 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 
 
 No. Ill 
 
 At the Court at Whitehali,, August 14th, 1663. 
 
 Present. 
 The King's Most Excellent Majesty. 
 
 Lord Chancellor. 
 Lord Treasurer. 
 Lord Privy Seal. 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 Duke of Albemarle, 
 Lord Chamberlain. 
 Earl of Berkshire. 
 Earl of St. Alban. 
 Earl of Sandwich, 
 Earl of Anglesey. 
 Earl of Bath. 
 
 Earl of Middleton. 
 
 Earl of Carbery. 
 
 Lord Bishop of London. 
 
 Lord Wentworth. 
 
 Lord Berkeley. 
 
 Lord Ashley. 
 
 Sir William Compton. 
 
 Mr. Treasurer. 
 
 Mr. Vice-Chamberlain. 
 
 Mr. Secretary Morice. 
 
 Mr. Secretary Bennett. 
 
 To the end the world may the better take notice of his Ma- 
 jesty's royal intention to observe the Act of Indempnity and Gen- 
 eral Pardon inviolably for the publique good and satisfaction of 
 all his subjects, it was this day ordered that a copy in the order of 
 this board of the sth inst., touching the illegal proceedings in the 
 Isle of Man against William Christian, and putting him to death 
 contrary to the said Act of General Pardon, be sent unto his Ma- 
 jesty'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 Majesty's arms prefixed. 
 
 Richard Browne.
 
 NOTES 
 
 Note i, p. 59 
 
 The attempt to contrast the manners of the jovial Cavaliers and 
 enthusiastic, yet firm and courageous, Puritans was partly taken 
 from a hint of Shadwell, who sketched several scenes of humour 
 with great force, although they hung heavy on his pencil when he 
 attempted to finish them for the stage. 
 
 In a dull play named The Volunteers, or The Siock-Jobbers, the 
 dramatis personce present 'Major-General Blunt, an old Cavalier 
 officer, somewhat rough in speech, but very brave and honest, and 
 of good understanding, and a good patriot.' A contrast to the 
 general is ' Colonel Hackwell, senior, an old Anabaptist colonel of 
 Cromwell's, very stout and godly, but somewhat immoral.' 
 
 These worthies, so characterised, hold a dialogue together, which 
 will form a good example of Shadwell's power of dramatising. The 
 stage is filled by Major-General Blunt and some of his old ac- 
 quaintance Cavaliers, and Hackwell, the ancient Parliamentarian. 
 
 Major-General Blunt. Fear not, my old Cavaliers. According 
 to your laudable customs, you shall be drunk, swagger, and fight 
 over all your battles, from Edgehill to Brentford. You have not 
 forgotten how this gentleman {points to Colonel Hackwell) and his 
 demure psalm-singing fellows used to drub us? 
 
 1st Cavalier. No, 'gad! I felt 'em once to purpose. 
 
 M.-G. Blunt. Ah! a-dod, in high-crowned hats, collared bands, 
 great loose coats, long tucks under 'em, and calves-leather boots; 
 they used to sing a psalm, fall on, and beat us to the devil! 
 
 Hackwell, senior. In that day we stood up to the cause; and the 
 cause, the spiritual cause, did not suffer under our carnal weapons, 
 but the enemy was discomfited, and lo! they used to flee be- 
 fore us. 
 
 1st Cavalier. Who would think such a snivelling, psalm -sing- 
 ing puppy would fight? But these godly fellows would lay about 
 'em as if the devil were in 'em. 
 
 Sir Nicholas. What a filthy, slovenly army was this! I warrant 
 you not a weU-dressed man among the Roundheads. 
 
 M.-G. Blunt. But these plain fellows would so thrash your 
 swearing, drinking, fine fellows in laced coats — just such as you 
 
 397
 
 NOTES 
 
 of the drawing-room and Locket's fellows are now — and so strip 
 them, by the Lord Harry, that after a battle those saints looked 
 like the Israelites loaden with the Eg>ptian baggage. 
 
 Uackivell. \'erily, we did take the spoil and it served us to turn 
 the penny, and advanced the cause thereby; we fought upon a 
 principle that carried us through. 
 
 M.-G. Blunt. Prithee, colonel, we know thy principle — 't was 
 not right: thou foughtest against children's baptism, and not for 
 hberty, but who should be your tyrant; none so zealous for Crom- 
 well as thou wert then, nor such a furious agitator and test-man 
 as thou hast been lately. 
 
 Uackwcll, senior. Look you, Colonel, we but proceeded in the 
 way of liberty of worship. 
 
 M.-G. Blunt. A-dod, there is something more in it. This was 
 thy principle, colonel — Dominion is founded in grace, and the 
 righteous shall inherit the earth. And, by the Lord Harry, thou 
 chdst so; thou gottest three thousand pound a-year by fighting 
 • against the court, and I lost a thousand by fighting for it. — See 
 The Volunteers or Stock-jobbers, Shadwell's Works, vol. rv, p. 437. 
 
 In a former scene, Hackwell, the old fanatic officer, conceiving 
 himself offended by one of the dramatis personcz, says, with great 
 naivete — 'I prithee, friend, put me not to use the carnal weapon 
 in my own defence.' Such are the traits of phraseology- with which 
 Shadwell painted the old Puritan officers, many of whom he — 
 no mean observer of human nature — must have known familiarly. 
 
 Note 2, p. 62 
 
 The concealment and discovery of the Countess of Derby is 
 taken from a picturesque account of a similar event, described to 
 me by the person by whom it was witnessed in childhood. This 
 lady, by name Mrs. Margaret Swinton, and a daughter of that 
 ancient house, was a sister of my maternal grandmother, and of 
 course my grand-aunt. She was, as often happens on such occa- 
 sions, our constant resource in sickness, or when we tired of noisy 
 play, and closed around her to listen to her tales. As she might be 
 supposed to look back to the beginning of the last century, the 
 fund which supplied us with amusement often related to events 
 of that period. I may here notice that she told me the unhappy 
 story of the Bride of Lammcrmoor, being nearly related to the Lord 
 President, whose daughter was the heroine of that melancholy 
 tragedy. 
 
 398
 
 NOTES 
 
 The present tale, though of a different character, was also suffi- 
 ciently striking, when told by an eyewitness. Aunt Margaret was, 
 I suppose, seven or eight years old when residing in the old man- 
 sion-house of Swinton, and already displayed the firmness and 
 sagacity which distinguished her through life. Being one of a large 
 family, she was, owing to slight indisposition, left at home one day 
 when the rest of the family went to church with Sir John and Lady 
 Swinton, their parents. Before leaving the little invalid, she was 
 strictly enjoined not to go into the parlour where the elder party 
 had breakfasted. But when she found herself alone in the upper 
 part of the house, the spirit of her great ancestress Eve took posses- 
 sion of my aunt Margaret, and forth she went to examine the par- 
 lour in question. She was struck with admiration and fear at what 
 she saw there. A lady, 'beautiful exceedingly,' was seated by the 
 breakfast-table, and employed in washing the dishes which had 
 been used. Little Margaret would have had no doubt in account- 
 ing this singular vision an emanation from the angelical world, 
 but for her employment, which she could not so easily reconcile 
 to her ideas of angels. 
 
 The lady, with great presence of mind, called the astonished 
 child to her, fondled her with much tenderness, and judiciously 
 avoiding to render the necessity of secrecy too severe, she told the 
 girl she must not let any one except her mother know that she had 
 seen her. Having allowed this escape-valve for the benefit of her 
 curiosity, the mysterious stranger desired the little girl to look 
 from the window of the parlour to see if her mother was returning 
 from church. When she turned her head again, the fair vision had 
 vanished, but by what means Miss Margaret was unable to form 
 a conjecture. 
 
 Long watched, and eagerly waited for, the Lady Swinton at last 
 returned from church, and her daughter lost no time in telling 
 her extraordinary tale. 'You are a very sensible girl, Peggy,' an- 
 swered her mother, ' for if you had spoken of that poor lady to any 
 one but me, it might have cost her her life. But now I will not be 
 afraid of trusting you with any secret, and I will show you where 
 the poor lady lives.' In fact she introduced her to a concealed 
 apartment opening by a sUding panel from the parlour, and showed 
 her the lady in the hiding-place which she inhabited. It may be 
 said, in passing, that there were few Scottish houses belonging to 
 families of rank which had not such contrivances, the political in- 
 cidents of the times often calling them into occupation. 
 The history of the lady of the closet was both melancholy and 
 
 399
 
 NOTES 
 
 bloody, and though I have seen various accounts of the story, I do 
 not pretend to distinguish the right edition. She was a young 
 woman of extreme beauty, who had been married to an old man, 
 a writer, named MacFarlane. Her situation, and perhaps her 
 manners, gave courage to some who desired to be accounted her 
 suitors. Among them was a young EngUshman, named Cayley, 
 who was a commissioner of Government upon the estates forfeited 
 in the rebeUion of 1715. In 1716, Mr. Cayley visited this lady in 
 her lodgings, when they quarreled, either on account of his having 
 offered her some violence, or, as another account said, because 
 she reproached him with having boasted of former favours. It 
 ended in her seizing upon a pair of pistols, which lay loaded in a 
 closet, her husband intending to take them with him on a journey. 
 The gallant commissioner approached with an air of drollery, 
 saying, 'What, madam, do you intend to perform a comedy?' 
 'You shall find it a tragedy,' answered the lady; and fired both 
 pistols, by which Commissioner Cayley fell dead. 
 
 She fled, and remained concealed for a certain time. Her claim 
 of refuge in Swinton House, I do not know; it arose probably from 
 some of the indescribable genealogical filaments which connect 
 Scottish families. A very small cause would even at any time have 
 been a reason for interfering between an individual and the law. 
 
 Whatever were the circumstances of Mrs. MacFarlane's case, 
 it is certain that she returned, and lived and died in Edinburgh, 
 without being brought to trial. Indeed, considering the times, 
 there was no great wonder; for, to one strong party, the death of 
 an English commissioner was not a circumstance to require much 
 apology. The Swintons, however, could not be of that opinion, 
 the family being of Presbyterian and Whig principles. 
 
 Note 3, p. 77 
 
 The reader will find, in an Appendix to the Introduction, an 
 account of this tragedy, as related by one who may be said to 
 favour the sufferer. It must be admitted, on the other hand, that 
 Captain Christian's trial and execution were conducted according 
 to the laws of the island. He was tried in all due form by the 
 Dempster, or chief judge, then named Norris, the keys of the 
 island, and other constituted authorities, making what is called a 
 Tinwald court. This word, yet retained in many parts of Scot- 
 land, signifies vallis negotii, and is applied to those artificial 
 mounds which were in ancient times assigned to the meeting of 
 
 400
 
 NOTES 
 
 the inhabitants for holding their comitia. It was pleaded that the 
 articles of accusation against Christian were found fully relevant, 
 and as he refused to plead at the bar, that he was, according to the 
 laws of Man, most justly sentenced to death. It was also stated 
 that full time was left for appeal to England, as he was appre- 
 hended about the end of September, and not executed until the 
 2d January, 1662. These defences were made for the various ofiS- 
 cers of the Isle of Man called before the privy council on account 
 of Christian's death, and supported with many quotations from 
 the laws of the island, and appear to have been received as a suflS- 
 cient defence for their share in those proceedings. 
 
 I am obliged to the present reverend vicar of Malew for a cer- 
 tified extract to the following effect: 'Malew Burials, a.d. 1662. 
 Mr. William Christian of Ronaldswing, late receiver, was shot to 
 death at Hange Hall, the 2d January. He died most penitently 
 and couradgeously, made a good end, prayed earnestly, made an 
 excellent speech, and the next day was buried in the chancell of 
 Kirk Malew.' 
 
 It is certain that the death of William Christian made' a very 
 deep impression upon the minds of the islanders, and a Mr. Cal- 
 cell or Colquit was much blamed on the occasion. Two lesser inci- 
 dents are worth preservation as occurring at his execution. The 
 place on which he stood was covered with white blankets, that his 
 blood might not fall on the ground; and, secondly, the precaution 
 proved unnecessary, for, the musket wounds bleeding internally, 
 there was no outward effusion of blood. 
 
 Many on the island deny Christian's guilt altogether, like his 
 respectable descendant, the present dempster; but there are 
 others, and those men of judgment and respectability, who are so 
 far of a different opinion, that they only allow the execution to 
 have been wrong in so far as the culprit died by a military rather 
 than a civil death. I wUlingly drop the veil over a transaction 
 which took pla.ce flagranlibus odiis at the conclusion of a civil war, 
 when Revenge at least was awake if Justice slept. 
 
 Note 4, p. 86 
 
 This peculiar collocation of apartments may be seen at Haddon 
 Hall, Derbyshire, once a seat of the Vernons, where, in the lady's 
 pew in the chapel, there is a sort of scuttle, which opens into the 
 kitchen, so that the good lady could ever and anon, without much 
 interruption of her religious duties, give an eye that the roast- 
 
 • 27 401 
 
 :ANTA ^mim STME OGllEiE LIlAfi
 
 NOTES 
 
 meat was not permitted to burn, and that the turn-broche did hia 
 duty. 
 
 Note s, p. 91 
 
 Even down to a later period than that in which the tale is laid, 
 the ladies of distinction had for their pages young gentlemen of 
 distinguished rank, whose education proceeded within the family 
 of their patroness. Anne Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth, 
 who in several respects laid claim to the honours due to royal 
 blood, was, I believe, the last person of rank who kept up this old 
 custom. A general officer distinguished in the American war was 
 bred up as a page in her family. At present the youths whom we 
 sometimes see in the capacity of pages of great ladies are, I be- 
 lieve, mere lacquies. 
 
 Note 6, p. 127 
 
 The ejection of the Presbyterian clergy took place on St. Bar- 
 tholomew'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 alterna- 
 tive to renounce their principles or subscribe certain articles of 
 uniformity. And to their great honour, Calamy, Baxter, and Rey- 
 nolds refused bishoprics, and many other Presbyterian ministers 
 declined deaneries and other preferments, and submitted to de- 
 privation in preference. 
 
 Note 7, p. 163 
 
 It is naturally to be supposed that the twenty years' triumph 
 of the Puritans, and the violence towards the Malignants, as they 
 were wont to call the Cavaliers, had generated many grudges and 
 feuds in almost every neighbourhood, which the victorious Roy- 
 aUsts failed not to act upon, so 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 within having some discourse with them on the out- 
 side, they gave threatening language, and put their pistols in at 
 the windows. My wife being with child, I ordered the doors to be 
 opened, and they came in. After they had presented a pistol to 
 
 402
 
 NOTES 
 
 my breast they showed me their authority to apprehend me,' 
 imder the hands and seals of two knights and deputy-lieutenants, 
 'for speaking treasonable words against the King.' The ci-devant 
 captain was conveyed to prison at Bradford, and bail refused. 
 His 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 adul- 
 tery 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 information. I told 
 him that the business was over, and that it was not seasonable to 
 rip up old troubles, on which he threatened me, and said he would 
 have them. "The sun," he said, "now shines on our side of the 
 hedge."' Such being his accuser, Hodgson was tried for having 
 said, 'There is a crown provided, but the King will never wear it'; 
 to which was added, that he alleged he had 'never been a turn- 
 coat — never took the oath of allegiance, 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 
 times ever changed, he would sit on Hodgson's skirts. In fine, 
 Hodgson escaped for five 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 1662, Captain Hodgson was again 
 arrested in a summary manner by one Peebles, an attorney, quar- 
 termaster to Sir John Armitage'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 which 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 de- 
 part, which he partly owed to the valour of his landlady, who sate 
 down at the table-end betwixt him and danger, and kept his an- 
 tagonists 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 
 
 403
 
 NOTES 
 
 and arrested; and the last occasion we shall notice occurred on 
 nth September 1662, when he was disarmed by his old friend 
 Mr. Peebles, at the head of a party. He demanded to see the war- 
 rant; on which he was answered as formerly, by the quartermaster 
 laying his hand on his sword-hilt, saying it was a better order than 
 Oliver used to give. At length a warrant was produced, and Hodg- 
 son 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 Hodg- 
 son refused to deliver, alleging they had no authority to take his 
 wearing-apparel. To this he remained constant, even upon the 
 personal threats of Sir John Armitage, who called him rebel and 
 traitor, and said, ' If I 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 Armitage'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 further. 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. 
 
 Note 8, p. 167 
 
 Waldron mentions the two popular festivities in the Isle of Man 
 which are alluded to in the text, and vestiges of them are, I be- 
 lieve, still to be traced in this singular island. The Contest of 
 Winter and Summer seems directly derived from the Scandinavi- 
 ans, long the masters in Man, as Oiaus Magnus mentions a simi- 
 
 404,
 
 NOTES 
 
 lar festival among the Northern nations. On the first 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 reign of Winter; while 
 another band, whose captain is called Florro, represent Spring, 
 with green boughs, such as the season offers. These parties skir- 
 mish in sport, and the mimic contest concludes with a general 
 feast.' — History of the Northern Nations, by Olaus, Book xv, 
 chap. II. 
 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 are called maids 
 of honour. She has also a young man, who is her captain, and has 
 imder his command a good number of inferior officers. In oppo- 
 sition 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 represent 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 ransomed 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 time, 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 De- 
 cember, towards evening, all the servants in general have a holi- 
 day; they go not to bed all night, but ramble about till the bells 
 ring in all the churches, which is at twelve o'clock; prayers being 
 over, they go to hunt the wren, and after having found one of 
 these poor birds, they kill her, and lay her on a bier with the utmost 
 
 40s
 
 NOTES 
 
 solemnity, bringing her to the parish church and burying her with 
 a whimsical kind of solemnity, singing dirges over her in the 
 Manks 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, 1731. 
 
 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 con- 
 ducted, 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. 
 
 ) Articles for the plate which is to be run for in the said island, being of the 
 ft > value of five pounds sterling {the fashion included), given by the Right 
 
 ) Honourable 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 euery year, whiles his 
 honour is pleased to allow the same (being the day of the nativity of the Honour- 
 able James Lord Strange), except it happen upon a Sunday, and if soe, the said 
 plate is to be run for upon the day following. 
 
 ad. 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 gener- 
 ally knowne by any, or els his coUour, and whether horse, mair, or gelding, and 
 that to be done at the x comprs. ofl'ice, by the cleark of the rolls for the time being. 
 
 4<A. That euery person that puts in either horse, mair, or gelding, shall, at the time 
 of their entring, depositt the sume of hue 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 
 following, besides one shill. apiece to be giuen by them to the said clerk of the rolls, 
 for entering their names and engrossing these articles. 
 
 Sth. 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 sadle 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, mail, or gelding, which tryers are to have the com- 
 mand of the scales and weights, and to see that euery rider doe carry full weight, 
 according as is mentioned in the foregoing article, and especially that the winning 
 rider be soe with the usual allowance of one pound for . 
 
 jth. That a person be assigned by the tryers to start the runinge horses, who are to 
 run for the said plate, betwixt the bowers of one and three of the clock in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 &th. That euery rider shall leave the two first powles which are sett upp 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 powle, which is sett up at 
 the lower end of the Conney-warren, to be left alsoe upon the left hand, and soe 
 the turning powle next to VVm. Looreyes house to be left in like maner upon the 
 left hand, and the other two powles, leading to the ending powle, to be left upon 
 the right hand; all which powles are to be left by the riders as aforesaid, excepting 
 only the distance-powle, which may be rid on either hand, at the discretion of the 
 rider, etc. etc. etc. 
 
 406
 
 NOTES 
 
 July Z4th, 1687. 
 The names of the persons who have entered their horses to run fgr the within plate 
 for this present year, 1687. 
 
 Ro. Heywood, Esq., Governor of this Isle, hath entered ane bay gelding 
 called by the name of Loggerhead, and hath deposited towards the 
 augmenting of the plate for the next year £ 00 05 00 
 
 Captain Tho. Hudlston hath entered one white gelding, called Snowball, 
 and hath depositted 00 05 00 
 
 Mr. William Faigler hath entred his gray gelding, called the Gray Car- 
 
 raine, and depositted 00 05 00 
 
 Mr. Nicho. Williams hath entred one gray stone -horse, called the York- 
 shire Gray and depositted 00 05 00 
 
 Mr. Demster Christian hath entred one gelding, called the Dapple 
 Gray, and hath depossitted 00 05 00 
 
 i&th July 1687. 
 Memorandum, 
 
 That this day the above plate was run for by the foremencioned horses, and the same 
 was fairly won by the right worshipful governor's horse at the two first heates. 
 
 17'^ August 1688. 
 Received this day the above , which I am to pay to my master to 
 
 augment ye plate by me, John Wood. 
 
 It is my good-will and pleasure y' y* 2 prizes formerly granted (by me) for hors 
 runing and shouting shall continue as they did, to be run, or shot for, and soe to con- 
 tinue dureing my good-will and pleasure. Given under my hand at Lathom, y^ 12th of 
 July 1669. 
 
 Derby. 
 To my governor's deputy-governor and y* rest of 
 my ofiicers in my Isle of Man. 
 
 Note 9, p. 174 
 
 I am told that a portrait of the unfortunate William Christian 
 is still preserved in the family of Watterson of Ballnahow of Kirk 
 Church, Rushin. William Dhone is dressed in a green coat with- 
 out 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 melancholy. I have so 
 far taken advantage of this criticism as to bring my ideal portrait 
 nearer to the complexion at least of the fair-haired William 
 Dhone. 
 
 Note 10, p. 230 
 
 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 remarkable and beautiful story of his 
 having suddenly emerged from his place of concealment, and, 
 
 407
 
 NOTES 
 
 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 yield- 
 ing to the Indians, is also told, and in all probability truly. I have 
 seen the whole tradition commented upon at large in a late North 
 American publication, which goes so far as to ascertain the ob- 
 scure grave to which the remains of Whalley were secretly com- 
 mitted. This singular story has lately afforded the justly cel- 
 ebrated American novelist, Air. Cooper, the materials from which 
 he has compiled one of those impressive narratives of the aborig- 
 inal inhabitants of the Transatlantic woods and the hardy Europ- 
 eans by whom they were invaded and dispossessed. 
 
 Note n, p. 234 
 
 The Author has never seen this ancient fortress, which has in 
 its circuit so much that 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 fifty ton, 
 though sometimes quite drained of salt water; but then it is sup- 
 plied with fresh by a river which runs from Kirk Jarmyn Moun- 
 tains, 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 fortifications 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 oS their 
 shoes and stockings, frequently wade it in low tides, \^^len you 
 arrive at the foot of the rock, you ascend about some threescore 
 steps, which are cut out of it to the first 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, 
 
 408
 
 NOTES 
 
 carved, and adorned with pilasters. Having passed the first, 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 fmd 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 erected 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 Httle 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 
 censure. This is certainly one of the most dreadful places that 
 imagination can form. The sea runs under it through the hollows 
 of the 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 eight or nine years old not 
 being able to pass them but sideways. Within it are thirteen pil- 
 lars, on which the whole chapel is supported. They have a super- 
 stition, 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 them either to sit or lie down 
 on, others a small piece of brickwork; some are lower and more 
 dark than others; but all of them, in my opinion, dreadful enough 
 for almost any crime humanity is capable of being guilty of; 
 though 't is supposed they were built with different degrees of 
 horror, that the 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 the soldiers of the garrison permit them to suffer their con- 
 finement in the castle, it being morally impossible for the strong- 
 est constitution to sustain the damps and noisomeness of the 
 cavern even for a few hours, much less for months and years, as 
 
 409
 
 NOTES 
 
 is the punishment sometimes allotted. But I shall speak hereafter 
 more fully of the severity of the ecclesiastical jurisdiction. 'T is 
 certain that there 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 numbers of 
 Doric pillars prove them to be chiefl)^ admirers of that. Nor are 
 the epitaphs and inscriptions on the tombstones less worthy of re- 
 mark; the various languages in which they are engraved testify 
 by what a diversity of nations this little spot of earth has been 
 possessed. Though time has defaced too many of the letters to 
 render the remainder intelligible, yet you may easily perceive 
 fragments of the Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Arabian, Saxon, Scotch, 
 and Irish characters; some dates, yet visible, declare 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 composed, 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, 
 therefore, 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 you for it is a pretty odd 
 one; but as I think it not sufficient satisfaction to my curious reader 
 to acquaint him with what sort of buildings this island affords, 
 without letting him know also what traditions are concerning 
 them, I shall have Httle regard to the censure of those critics who 
 find fault with everything 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 
 Manks 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 
 
 410
 
 NOTES 
 
 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 company. 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 themselves, that whoever was to 
 succeed the ensuing night, his fellow in this errand should accom- 
 pany 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 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 fellow being drunk, and by the strength of his 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 cour- 
 age. 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 that Mauthe Doog would follow him, as it 
 had done the others, for he would try if it were dog or devil. 
 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 return- 
 ing, they demanded the knowledge of him ; but as loud and noisy 
 as he had been at leaving them, he was now become 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 hear him either to speak, or, if he could not do that, 
 to make some signs, by which they might understand 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 
 accident happened about threescore years since, and I heard it 
 attested by several, but especially by an old soldier, who assured 
 
 411
 
 NOTES 
 
 me he had seen it oftener than he had then hairs on his head. 
 Having taken notice of everything remarkable in the churches, 
 I believe my reader wUl be impatient to come to the castle itself, 
 which, in spite of the magnificence the pride of modern ages has 
 adorned the palaces of princes with, exceeds not only everything 
 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, makes you fancy yourself in a superior orb 
 to what the rest of mankind inhabit, and fills you with contempla- 
 tions the most refined and pure that the soul is capable of con- 
 ceiving.' — Waldron's Description of the Isle of Man, foUo, 1731, 
 P- 103. 
 
 In 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 signifi- 
 cations, 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. 
 
 Note 12, p. 240 
 
 Beneath the only one of the four churches in Castle Rushin^ 
 which is or was kept a little in repair is a prison or dungeon for 
 ecclesiastical offenders. 'This,' says Waldron, 'is certainly one 
 of the most dreadful places that imagination can form. The sea 
 runs under it through the hollows of the rock with such a con- 
 tinual 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 eight or nine years not being able to pass them but sideways.' 
 Waldron's Description oj the Isle of Man in his Works, p. 105, folio. 
 ^ [Evidently Peel Castle is meant. See Note 11, p. 409.] 
 412
 
 NOTES 
 
 Note 13, p. 256 
 
 The story often alludes to the various superstitions which are, or 
 at least were, received by the inhabitants of the Isle of Man, an an- 
 cient 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 following curious legendary traditions are 
 extracted from Waldron, a huge mine, in which I have attempted 
 to discover some specimens of spar, if I cannot find treasure. 
 
 "T is 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 
 prejudice 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 fictitious being mentioned 
 by him, in his book of absurdities, which they would not readily 
 give credit to. I know not, idolisers 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 tradition is a greater god than they; and as 
 they confidently 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 Uve 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 prophane 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 anything happen 
 to be mislaid, and found again in some place where it was not ex- 
 pected, 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 
 tave been carried insensibly great distances from home, and, with- 
 
 413
 
 NOTES 
 
 out 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 
 sitting round a table, and eating and drinking in a very jovial man- 
 ner. 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 anything 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 ; accordingly, a large silver cup, filled with 
 some sort of liquor, being put into his hand, he found an oppor- 
 tunity 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 fa- 
 tigued. 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 to 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 Kirk-Merlugh. 
 
 'Another instance they gave me to prove the reality of fairies 
 was of a fiddler, 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 earn- 
 est for it, saw his new master vanish into the earth the moment 
 he had made the bargain. Nothing 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 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 be called for, to 
 play none but psalms. On the day appointed, the same person ap- 
 peared, with whom he went, though with what inward reluctance 
 't is easy to guess; but punctually obeying the minister's direc- 
 tions, 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 
 
 414
 
 NOTES 
 
 utmost difficulty. 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 changeUngs; and, in- 
 deed, 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 anything, and was very 
 seldom seen to smUe ; 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 mortal's 
 could be; and what made this conjecture seem the more reason- 
 able 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 ex- 
 cepting the nurse, who, being 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 inquired 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 re- 
 moved by fairies, who, by their sudden return, had been prevented 
 
 415
 
 NOTES 
 
 from carrying it any farther. About a year after, the same woman 
 was brought to bed of a second child, which had not been born 
 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 
 mUch-kine into a barn, which they call a cattle-house. Everybody 
 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 minis- 
 ter, joined with him in thanksgiving to God, who had twice de- 
 livered their children from being taken from them. But in the 
 time of her third lying-in, everybody 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 Httle 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 lamentations 
 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 Ues 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 all together on the bed. This creature lived with 
 them near the space of nine years, in all which time it eat nothing 
 except a few herbs, 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, Hke the changeling I mentioned before, 
 and in all its actions showed itself to be of the same nature. 
 
 416
 
 NOTES 
 
 *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 moun- 
 tain surrounded by a great number of little men, who would not 
 suffer her to pass any farther. Some of them said she should go 
 with 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, teUing 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 she 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 was true, for there was a great deal of blood 
 to be seen on the stones. This did she aver with all the solemnity 
 imaginable. 
 
 'Another woman, equally superstitious and fanciful as the 
 former, told me that, being great with child, and expecting every 
 moment the good hour, as she lay awake one night in her bed, 
 she saw seven or eight Uttle women come into her chamber, one 
 of whom had an infant in her arms; they were followed by a man 
 of the same size with themselves, but in the habit of a minister. 
 One of them went to the paU, 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." With 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 baptised 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 christen- 
 ing 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 
 
 87 417
 
 NOTES 
 
 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 Duglas. It 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 hollow of a hunts- 
 man, and the finest horn in the world. He was a little surprised 
 that anybody pursued those kinds of sports in the night, but he 
 had not time for much reflection 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 drest 
 in green, and gallantly mounted. He was so well pleased with the 
 sight, that he would 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 
 that he was come home safe; "for," said she, "those you saw were 
 fairies, and 't is well they did not take you away with them." 
 There is no persuading them but that these huntings are frequent 
 in the island, and that these little gentry, being too proud to ride 
 on Manks horses, which they might find in the field, make use of 
 the English and Irish 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 and foam, and 
 tired almost to death, when their owners have believed they 
 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 nocturnal journeys. 
 
 'At my first coming into the island, and hearing these sort of 
 stories, I imputed the giving credit to them merely to the sim- 
 plicity of the poor creatures who related them; but was strangely 
 surprised when I heard other narratives of this kind, and alto- 
 gether as absurd, attested by men who passed for persons of sound 
 judgment. Among this number was a gentleman, my near neigh- 
 bour, who afiirmed with the most solemn asseverations that, being 
 of my opinion, and entirely averse to the behef 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 Uttle 
 figures playing and leaping over some stones in a field, whom at 
 
 418
 
 NOTES 
 
 a few yards' distance he imagined were schoolboys, and intended, 
 when he came near enough, to reprimand for being absent from 
 their exercises at that time of the day, it being then, he said, be- 
 tween three and four of the clock; but when he approached, as 
 near as he could guess, within twenty paces, they all immediately 
 disappeared, though he had never taken his eye off them from the 
 first moment he beheld them ; nor was there any place where they 
 could so suddenly retreat, it being an open field 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 moun- 
 tains, by a little man in a plain dress, who asked him if he would 
 sell his horse. " 'T is 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 wiU take, here is 
 your money." The 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 re- 
 plied that, "As he had made a fair bargain, and no way circum- 
 vented, nor endeavoured to circumvent, 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 weU satis- 
 fied, and nothing afterward happened to give him any disquiet 
 concerning this affair. 
 
 'A second account of the same nature I 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 even- 
 ing 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 contem- 
 plation, he wandered, without thinking where he was, a consid- 
 erable way farther than it was usual for him to do; and, as he told 
 
 419
 
 NOTES 
 
 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 heedfuUy to it, found there was something 
 more terrible in the sound than could proceed from that creature. 
 He confessed to me that he was no less affrighted than surprised, 
 especially when, the noise coming still nearer, he imagined, what- 
 ever it was that it proceeded from, it must pass him. He had, how- 
 ever, presence enough of mind to place himself with his back to a 
 hedge, where he fell on his 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 in an earthquake. It made directly toward a little cottage, 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 ejacu- 
 lation, 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 loth to pass a censure which 
 might be judged an uncharitable one; but the deceased having 
 the character of a very ill liver, most 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 Russin, 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 they have seen it various times; 
 but what I took most notice of was the report of a gentleman, of 
 whose good understanding, as well as veracity, I have a very great 
 opinion. He told me that, happening to 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 anybody, much less one 
 of that sex, should not rather run to some little porch or shed, of 
 which there are several in Castle 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 
 
 420
 
 NOTES 
 
 that seemed so little to regard the fury of the elements, he per- 
 ceived she retreated on his approach, and at last, he thought, 
 went into the castle, though the gates were shut. This, obhging 
 him to think he had seen a spirit, sent him home very much terri- 
 fied; but the next day, relating his adventure to some people who 
 lived in the castle, and describing, as near as he could, the garb 
 and stature of the apparition, they told him it was that of the 
 woman above-mentioned, who had been frequently seen, by the 
 soldiers on guard, to pass in and out of the gates, as well as to walk 
 through the rooms, though there 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 its mind without being conjured to do so in a proper 
 manner, the reason of its being permitted to wander is un- 
 known. 
 
 'Another story of the like nature I have heard concerning an 
 apparition which has frequently been seen on a wild common 
 near Kirk Jarmyn Mountains, which, they say, assumes the shape 
 of a wolf, and fills the air with most terrible howlings. But having 
 run on so far in this account of supernatural appearances, I can- 
 not forget what was told me by an Enghsh gentleman, and my 
 particular friend. He was about passing over Duglas Bridge be- 
 fore 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 the 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 harmony than himself, and kept in an im- 
 movable posture all the time it lasted; which, he said, could not 
 be less than three-quarters of an hour, according to the most 
 exact calculation he could make, when he arrived at the end of 
 his Httle 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 no- 
 body that could make it was near me. For my part, I shall not pre- 
 tend to determine if such appearances have any reality, or are 
 only the effect of the imagination; but as I had much rather give 
 credit to them than be convinced by ocular demonstration, I 
 shall leave the point to be discussed by those who have made it 
 
 421
 
 NOTES 
 
 more their study, and only say, that whatever belief we ought to 
 give to some accounts of this kind, there are others, and those 
 much more numerous, which merit only to be laughed at — it not 
 being at all consonant to reason, or the idea reUgion gives us of the 
 fallen angels, to suppose spirits, so eminent in wisdom and know- 
 ledge as to be exceeded by nothing but their Creator, should 
 visit the earth for such trifling purposes as to throw bottles and 
 glasses about a room, and a thousand other as ridiculous gambols 
 mentioned in those voluminous treatises of apparitions. 
 
 'The natives of this 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. I know several 
 that 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 bearers. 
 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 (for 
 I must not omit that they sing psalms in the same manner as 
 those do who accompany the 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 
 they take to be a sort of friendly demons, and their business, they 
 say, is to warn people of what is to befall them; accordingly, they 
 give notice of any stranger's approach, by the trampling of horses 
 at the gate of the house where they are to arrive. As difficult as I 
 found it to bring myself to give any faith to this, I have frequently 
 been very much suprised, when, on visiting a friend, I have foxmd 
 the table ready, spread and everything in order to receive me, 
 and been told by the person to whom I went that he had know- 
 ledge of my coming, or some other guest, by these good-natured 
 intelUgencers; 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 the same un- 
 certainty as before. Here, therefore, I will quit the subject, and 
 proceed to things much easier to be accounted for.' — Waldron's 
 Description oj the Isle of Man, foUo, 1731, p. 125. 
 
 422
 
 NOTES 
 
 This long quotation is extremely curious, as containing an ac- 
 count of those very superstitions in the Isle of Man which are fre- 
 quently collected both in Ireland and in the Highlands of Scot- 
 land, and which have employed the attention of Mr. Crofton 
 Croker and of the author of the Fairy Mythology. The supersti- 
 tions are in every respect so like each other, that they may be re- 
 ferred to one common source; unless we conclude that they are 
 natural to the human mind, and, like the common orders of veg- 
 etables, 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. 
 
 Note 14, p. 322 
 
 An instance of such a sale of an unfortunate dancing-girl oc- 
 curred in Edinburgh in the end of the seventeenth century. 
 
 '13th January 1687. — Reid, the mountebank, pursues Scott 
 of Harden and his lady, for stealing away from him a little girl 
 called "the tumbUng lassie," that danced upon his stage, and he 
 claimed damages, and produced a contract, by which he bought 
 her from her mother for thirty pounds Scots [£2 10s. sterling]. 
 But we have no slaves in Scotland,' continues the liberal reporter, 
 'and mothers cannot sell their bairns; and physicians attested that 
 the employment of tumbling would kill her, and her joints were 
 now grown stiff and she decHned 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 de- 
 liver him up. The Lords, renitente cancellario, assoilzied [i.e., 
 acquitted] Harden.' — Fountainhall's Decisions, vol. i, p. 441. 
 
 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. 
 
 Reid, the mountebank, apparently knew well how to set the 
 sails of his own interest to whatever wind proved most hkely 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 
 
 423
 
 NOTES 
 
 from the Popish priests, and to turn Christian Papist, which was 
 a great trophy. He was christened James after the King, and 
 Chancellor, and the Apostle James!' — Ibid., p. 440. 
 
 Note 15, p. 332 
 
 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 Gates himself with con- 
 siderable power of colouring. ' He was now in his trine exaltation, 
 his plot in full force, eflacacy, 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 caUed, or most blas- 
 phemously 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 poisoned reputation, and left good 
 Protestants arrant Papists, and something worse than that — 
 in danger of being put in the plot as traitors. Upon his examina- 
 tion before the Commons, the Lord Chief Justice Scroggs was 
 sent for to the House, and there signed warrants for the imprison- 
 ment of iive 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, be- 
 cause 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 Pa- 
 pists, 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 ordin- 
 
 424
 
 NOTES 
 
 aryor moderate was to be heard in people's communication; but 
 every debate and action was high-flown and tumultuous. All 
 freedom of speech was taken away; and not to beheve the plot 
 was worse than being Turk, Jew, or infidel. For this fact of God- 
 frey'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 took in 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 meddled 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 be- 
 haviour 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 
 reasoning ab improhabili 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. In a 
 word, anger, poUcy, inhumanity, 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 thus de- 
 scribed: — 'He was a low man, of an ill cut, very short neck, and 
 his visage and features were most particular. 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 
 notavit. In a word, he was a most consummate cheat, blasphemer, 
 vicious, perjured, impudent, and saucy, foul-mouth'd wretch; 
 and were it not for the truth of history, and the great emotions 
 in the public he was the cause of, not fit (so little deserving) to be 
 remembered.' 
 
 Note i6, p. 353 
 There is no more odious feature of this detestable plot than that 
 425
 
 NOTES 
 
 the forsworn witnesses, by whose oaths the fraud was supported, 
 claimed a sort of literary interest in their own fabrications by pub- 
 lications under such titles as the following: — A Narrative and 
 Impartial Discovery of the Horrid Popish Plot, carried on for Burn- 
 ing 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 Com- 
 mittee 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 had made their depositions in open court. But 
 in this moment of frenzy everything which could confirm the 
 existence of these senseless delusions was eagerly listened to; and 
 whatever seemed to infer doubt of the witnesses, or hesitation con- 
 cerning the existence of the plot, was a stifling, strangling, or 
 undervaluing the discovery of the grand conspiracy. In short, 
 as expressed by Dryden 
 
 'T was worse than plotting to suspect the plot. 
 
 Note 17, p. 357 
 
 It will be afterwards found that in the supposed Richard Gan- 
 lesse 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 re- 
 ceive some dignity of character from his talents, energy, and influ- 
 ence 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 vindictive feelings, which scruple at no means, even 
 the foulest, for their gratification. The Author will be readily be- 
 lieved when he aifirms that no original of the present times, or 
 those which preceded them, has given the outline for a character 
 so odious. The personage 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 of the novel has not the slightest connexion, nor do the 
 incidents of their Uves in any respect agree. There existed, as 
 already stated, an Edward Christian of the period, who was 
 
 426
 
 NOTES 
 
 capable of very bad things, since he was a companion and associ- 
 ate 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 hand aliena a Sccevola 
 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 his unfortunate relative, 
 who died in prison before the period mentioned. 
 
 Note i8, p. 363 
 
 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 sod- 
 den 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 the 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 Stewartry of Kirkcud- 
 bright, 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 Thomas 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 he had. 
 
 On Scottishmcn 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 gentlemen of the name of MacCulloch, a clan 
 then and now powerful in Galloway, had at their head, at the time, 
 a chief of courage and activity, named Cutlar MacCulloch. He 
 was an excellent seaman, and speedily equipped a predatory flo- 
 tilla, with which he made repeated descents on the northern shores 
 
 427
 
 NOTES 
 
 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 Machariotie concern- 
 ing the losses he had suffered by this sea-king and his Galloway 
 men. It is dated at Peel Castle. ' Taken by Collard MacCulloch 
 and his men by wrongious spoUation, Twa box beddes and aykin 
 burdis, i c lathe, a feder bouster, a cote of mailzie, a mete burde, 
 two kystis, five barrils, a gyle-fat, xx pipes, twa gunys, three bolls 
 of malt, a querne of rosate of vi stane, certain petes [peats], extend- 
 ing to i c load, viii bollis of thieschit corn, xii unthraschin, and xl 
 knowte.' — Chaloner, 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 remem- 
 bered him in their prayers and graces; as, 
 
 God keep the house and all within, 
 From Cut MacCulloch and his kin; 
 
 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 ut- 
 tered one of these popular benisons, that Cutlar in person entered 
 the habitation with this reply: — 
 
 Gudeman, gudeman, ye pray too late, 
 MacCulloch '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 19, p. 367 
 
 The unfortunate Coleman, executed for the Popish Plot, was 
 secretary to the late Duchess of York, and had been a correspond- 
 ent of the French king's confessor, Pere la Chaise. Their corre- 
 spondence 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 
 
 428
 
 NOTES 
 
 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 states, Protestant, Pagan, and Mahom- 
 etan.' — History of England, vol. vii, p. 72, edit. 1797. 
 
 Note 20, p. 368 
 
 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 anything called Papist, 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 
 composition to be safe there, so far were they from acting vio- 
 lently at that time. But there was aU 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 preach- 
 ing, by the Papists. I did not see this spectre, but was credibly 
 told by some that afiirmed 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 occa- 
 sion, to excite terror in the audience. The hke, I guess, was never 
 seen before, and probably will never be seen again; and it had not 
 been so now, as is most evident, but for some stratagem founded 
 upon the impetuosity of the mob.' — Examen, p. 104. 
 
 It may be, however, remarked, that the singular circumstance 
 of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, the justice before whom Gates 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 beheved to have lost his Ufe by the Papists, for 
 having taken Gates's deposition, the panic spread with inconceiv- 
 able rapidity, and every species of horror was apprehended — 
 every report, the more absurd the better, eagerly Hstened to and 
 beheved. Whether this unfortunate gentleman lost his Ufe by 
 Papist or Protestant, by private enemies or by his own hand, for 
 he was a low-spirited and melancholy man, will probably never 
 be discovered. 
 
 429
 
 NOTES 
 
 Note 21, p. 369 
 
 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 I, though others were sus- 
 pected of being the actual regicide.
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 Abencerrages and Zegris, rival Moor- 
 ish families of Granada, in Spain. 
 
 accompt, an account. 
 
 adad, adod, possibly a variety of 
 egad. 
 
 an, if, and. 
 
 angle, a fishing rod. 
 
 arcantun, the secret of transmuting 
 base metal into gold. 
 
 awa, away. 
 
 aykin, oaken. 
 
 backsword, a sword with only one 
 sharp edge. 
 
 baggage, a young woman. 
 
 bairn, a child. 
 
 bale, misery, calamity. 
 
 bandalier, bandoleer, a shoulder- 
 belt. 
 
 barcelona, a handkerchief of soft 
 twilled silk. 
 
 barnacles, spectacles. 
 
 bating, excepting. 
 
 bide, await. 
 
 bite, a deceiver. 
 
 black-jack, a leather jug. 
 
 body of me, a popular oath. 
 
 boot, aid, help. 
 
 broad-piece, a gold coin worth 20s. ■ 
 
 budget, a bag. 
 
 buskin, a high boot with thick soles. 
 
 cartel, a challenge. 
 
 cast, a ' lift ' by way of conveyance. 
 
 cock-a-Ieekie, soup made of a cock 
 
 boiled with leeks. 
 couranto, a lively dance, 
 courbette, curvet. 
 Cuckolds and Roundheads, a popular 
 
 Royalist song. 
 
 deevil, the devil. 
 
 dobby,anold English name for goblin. 
 
 dog-bolt, a fool, a butt. 
 
 dogger, a fishing-vessel. 
 drift, an excavation made in a nearly 
 horizontal direction. 
 
 earth, an animal's hole. 
 eld, antiquity. 
 enow, enough. 
 
 faitour, a traitor, a rascal. 
 
 farthingale, a sort of crinoline. 
 
 fern-seed, supposed to have the 
 power of rendering people invisi- 
 ble. 
 
 franklin, a freeholder, a yeoman. 
 
 gaffer, an old man, an overseer, 
 gossip, a familiar friend, 
 grogram, a coarse stuff made of silk 
 and mohair. 
 
 hansmogan, hogan-mogan, equiva- 
 lent to Dutch. 
 
 hays, an old country dance. 
 
 head borough, a petty constable. 
 
 hedge-bill, an implement for pruning 
 hedges. 
 
 jennet, a horse of a fine Spanish 
 breed. 
 
 kit, a small violin used by dancing 
 
 masters. 
 knave, a servant, 
 kystis, chests. 
 
 lachrymae Christi, a red wine grown 
 
 on the slopes of Vesuvius. 
 leading-staff, a staff borne by a 
 
 commanding ofiBcer. 
 list, please, wish. 
 looby-land, lubber-land, a land of 
 
 laziness. 
 
 mailzie, mail. 
 
 431
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 maunna, must not. 
 
 mercer, a dealer in cloths, especially 
 silks and other costly materials. 
 
 micher, a truant, a thief. 
 
 minion, a favourite, a servile creat- 
 ure. 
 
 nantz, French brandy, 
 nowt, oxen, cattle. 
 
 October, ale brewed in October, good 
 ale. 
 
 odds, a corruption of 'God's.' 
 
 oddzooks, a corruption of God's 
 hooks. 
 
 of s, of his. 
 
 Old Noll, a contemptuous epithet ap- 
 plied to Cromwell by the Cavaliers. 
 
 Old Rowley, a nickname of Charles 
 II. 
 
 padder, a highway robber. 
 
 palmerin, a famous champion in the 
 age of chivalry. 
 
 paterero, a kind of cannon. 
 
 penthouse, a sloping roof. 
 
 petronel, a sort of large horse pistol. 
 
 pink, to stab with a rapier. 
 
 pinner, the flap of a headdress. 
 
 pottle, a liquid measure. 
 
 pound Scots, equal to i j. 8 d. Eng- 
 lish. 
 
 precisian, a Puritan. 
 
 prick-eared, having the hair cut short 
 and close, so that the ears are 
 prominent. 
 
 prink, to put on pompous airs, to 
 dress ostentatiously. 
 
 prolusion, a preliminary performance. 
 
 proper, own. 
 
 pursuivant, a warrant officer. 
 
 quacksalver, a quack. 
 
 ranting, rioting, fighting. 
 recorder, a wind instrument of the 
 flute kind. 
 
 rede, tell, advise. 
 
 restifif, stubborn, obstinate. 
 
 ring in the park, the fashionable place 
 of resort in Hyde Park; probably 
 the ornamental ground attached to 
 the Banqueting House. 
 
 rouse, a full draught, a bumper, a 
 carousal. 
 
 ruflle, a disturbance; also, to swag- 
 ger. 
 
 rummer, a drinking cup, a large 
 glass. 
 
 salmagundi, a mixture of various 
 meats, radishes, endive, etc. 
 
 sarsenet, plain silk. 
 
 sequestrator, a trustee or bailiS hav- 
 ing control of property on which 
 there are creditors' claims. 
 
 shot, reckoning, charge. 
 
 squab, a young pigeon. 
 
 stingo, old beer. 
 
 stoup, a drinking vessel, a flagon. 
 
 sylpiaid, a little sylph. 
 
 trencher, a wooden plate for serving 
 
 meat. 
 trencherman, a hearty feeder, 
 trepan, a snare. 
 trowl, throw, roll, drive about, 
 truncheon, a short staff, a club, 
 tuck, a rapier. 
 
 verjuice, a kind of vinegar. 
 
 wannion, vengeance. 
 
 wassail, ale or wine spiced; also, a 
 festival. 
 
 weasand, the windpipe. 
 
 wench, a young woman, a hand- 
 maid. 
 
 whinger, whinyard, a sword, a 
 hanger. 
 
 with a witness, with a vengeance. 
 
 zechin, a gold Byzantine coin, worth 
 about 9 5. 4 i. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 VOLUME II 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913 
 BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 VOLUME II
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 The Gordon then his bugle blew, 
 
 And said, 'Awa, awa; 
 The House of Rhodes is all on flame, 
 
 I hauld it time to ga'.' 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 When Julian awakened the next morning, all was still 
 and vacant in the apartment. The rising sun, which 
 shone through the half-closed shutters, showed some 
 rehcs of the last night's banquet, which his confused and 
 throbbing head assured him had been carried into a de- 
 bauch. 
 
 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 perform 
 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 have made ere they finished their 
 carouse.' 
 
 28 I
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 night- 
 cap, showed a grizzled pate, and a grave caricatured 
 countenance, which the hook-nose and lantern- jaws pro- 
 claimed 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 expedi- 
 ence alike dictated, JuHan next descended the trap-stair 
 and essayed a door at the bottom of the steps. It was 
 fastened within. He called; no answer was returned. It 
 must be, he thought, the apartment of the revellers, 
 now probably sleeping as soundly as their dependants 
 still slumbered, and as he himself had done a few min- 
 utes before. Should he awake them? To what purpose? 
 They were men with whom accident had involved him 
 against his own will ; and, situated 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, wliich ad-
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 mitted him to a bedroom, where lay another harmoni- 
 ous slumberer. The mean utensils, pewter measures, 
 empty cans and casks, with which this room was lum- 
 bered, proclaimed it that of the host, who slept sur- 
 rounded by his professional implements of hospitality 
 and stock-in-trade. 
 
 This discovery relieved Peveril from some delicate 
 embarrassment 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 reckon- 
 ing; not caring to be indebted for his entertainment to 
 the strangers, whom he was leaving without the formal- 
 ity of an adieu. 
 
 His conscience cleared of this gentlemanlike scruple, 
 Peveril proceeded with a Hght 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 unmindful of his services the 
 evening before, neighed as his master entered the stable ; 
 and Peveril accepted the sound as an omen of a pros- 
 perous journey. He paid the augury with a sieveful 
 of com; 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 Martindale 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 courtyard of the inn,
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 bridled, saddled, and ready to be mounted. But as 
 Peveril's hand was upon the mane and his left foot in the 
 stirrup, a hand touched his cloak, and the voice of Gan- 
 lesse said, 'What, Master Peveril, is this your foreign 
 breeding? or have you learned in France to take French 
 leave of your friends?' 
 
 Julian 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 
 I did come as far as the door of your chamber. I sup- 
 posed 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, with more reluctance than 
 usual; and as my occasions oblige me to be an early 
 traveller, I thought it best to depart without leavetaking. 
 I have left a token for mine host on the table of his apart- 
 ment.' 
 
 'It was unnecessary,' said Ganlesse: 'the rascal is al- 
 ready overpaid. But are you not rather premature in 
 your purpose of departing? My mind tells me that Mas- 
 ter Julian Peveril had better proceed with me to Lon- 
 don than turn aside for any purpose whatever. You may 
 see already that I am no ordinary person, but a master- 
 spirit of the time. For the cuckoo I travel with, and 
 whom I indulge in his prodigal folhes, he also has his 
 uses. But you are of a different cast; and I not only 
 would serve 3^ou, 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 lightnings of a keen grey eye, which cor- 
 responded, in its careless and prideful glance, with the
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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 
 circumstances — if they are indeed known to you so weil 
 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 rea- 
 son for desiring mine? ' 
 
 'Be it as you list, young man,' answered Ganlesse; 
 'only remember hereafter, you had a fair 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 impHed. I have done no evil — I feel 
 no apprehension; and I cannot, in common sense, con- 
 ceive why I should suffer for refusing my confidence to 
 a stranger, who seems to require that I should submit 
 me blindfold to his guidance.' 
 
 'Farewell, then. Sir JuHan of the Peak — that may 
 soon be,' said the stranger, removing the hand which 
 he had as yet left carelessly on the horse's bridle. 
 
 'How mean you by that phrase?' said JuUan; 'and 
 why apply such a title to me? ' 
 
 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 to- 
 wards the 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 Ju- 
 
 S
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Han, 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 to Martindale, 
 from which he had diverged on the preceding evening 
 for about two miles. But the roads, or rather the paths, 
 of this wild country, so much satirised by their native 
 poet. Cotton, were so complicated in some places, so 
 difficult to be traced in others, and so unfit for hasty 
 travelling in almost all, that, in spite of JuHan'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; and where, when they were hid in 
 night, their situation was indicated by a light con- 
 stantly maintained in a lofty tower called the War- 
 der's Turret, and which domestic beacon had acquired 
 through all the neighbourhood the name of Peveril's 
 Pole-star. 
 
 This was regularly kindled at curfew- toll, and sup- 
 plied 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 main- 
 taining this light originally sprung. Tradition spoke of it 
 doubtfully. Some thought it was the signal of general 
 
 6
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 hospitality, which, in ancient times, guided the wander- 
 ing knight or the weary pilgrim to rest and refreshment. 
 Others spoke of it as a 'love-lighted watch-fire,' by which 
 the provident anxiety of a former lady of Martindale 
 guided her husband homeward through the terrors of 
 a midnight storm. The less favourable construction of 
 unfriendly neighbours of the dissenting persuasion as- 
 cribed the origin and continuance of this practice to the 
 assuming pride of the family of Peveril, who thereby 
 chose to intimate their ancient suzerainte 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 Geof- 
 frey, as he that had raised his horn and set up his candle- 
 stick on high. Certain it is, that all the Peverils, from 
 father to son, had been especially attentive to the main- 
 tenance 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, dur- 
 ing 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 to the es- 
 tate, the old beacon-grate 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 direction of the castle, he perceived that 
 the light was not visible. He halted, rubbed his eyes.
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 shifted his position, and endeavoured in vain to persuade 
 himself that he had mistaken the point from which the 
 polar star of his house was visible, or that some newly 
 intervening obstacle — the growth of a plantation, per- 
 haps, 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 Martin- 
 dale Castle bore in reference to the surrounding country, 
 this could not have taken place; and the inference neces- 
 sarily forced itself upon his mind that Sir Goeffrey, 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 vil- 
 lage of Martindale-Moultrassie, eagerly desirous to as- 
 certain 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 enter- 
 tainment, 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
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 horse by Roger Raine, the landlord, the ancient depend- 
 ant of his family. He also wished to reheve his anxiety, 
 by inquiring concerning the state of things at the castle, 
 when he was surprised to hear, bursting from the tap- 
 room 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 dis- 
 solute 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 vanquish'd "G — d — n 
 me," 
 
 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 nobody can deny.' 
 
 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 ar- 
 morial bearings of his family; and not knowing how far 
 it might be advisable to intrude on these unfriendly rev- 
 ellers, without the power of repelling or chastising their 
 insolence, he led his horse to a back-door, which, as he 
 recollected, communicated with the landlord's apart- 
 ment, having determined to make private inquiry 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 rephed by the usual inquiry, 'Who is there?' 
 
 9
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *It is I, Dame Raine — I, Julian Peveril; tell your 
 
 husband to come to me presently.' 
 
 'Alack, and 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 Juhan. *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 I want to know how things are 
 at the castle.' 
 
 ' The castle — lack-a-day ! Chamberlain — Matthew 
 Chamberlain — I say, Matt ! ' 
 
 Matt Chamberlain apparently was at no great dis- 
 tance, 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 neigh- 
 bours in the village argued a speedy change of the name 
 
 xo
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 on the sign-post — nay, perhaps, of the very sign itself, 
 for Matthew was a bit of a Puritan, and no friend to 
 Peveril of the Peak. 
 
 *Now counsel me, an you be a man, Matt Chamber- 
 lain,' said Widow Raine; 'for 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 will walk by my counsel,' said the 
 chamberlain, 'e'en shake him oflf: let 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, truly,' 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 quarters 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! — lack-a-day!' in a tone of sympathy, 
 was the only answer he received from the landlady ; and 
 the conversation betwixt her and her chamberlain was 
 resumed, but in a tone too low to be overheard. 
 
 At length. Matt 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 
 
 II
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 horse, 'for an ungrateful churl, whom, on the first oppor- 
 tunity, I will assuredly cudgel to a mummy.' 
 
 To this 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 farther, dismounted once more, 
 and was about to pursue his journey on foot, notwith- 
 standing the extreme disadvantage under which the 
 high riding-boots of the period laid those who attempted 
 to walk with such encumbrances, when he was stopped 
 by a gentle call from the window. 
 
 Her coxmsellor was no sooner gone than the good- 
 nature and habitual veneration of the dame for the 
 house of Peveril, and perhaps some fear for her coun- 
 sellor's bones, induced her to open the casement, and 
 cry, but in a low and timid tone, 'Hist! hist! Master 
 Julian — be you gone? ' 
 
 'Not yet, dame,' said Julian; 'though it seems my 
 stay is imwelcome.' 
 
 * Nay, but, good young master, it is because men coun- 
 sel so differently ; for here was my poor old Roger Raine 
 would have thought the chimney-corner too cold for 
 you ; and here is Matt Chamberlain thinks the cold court- 
 yard is warm enough.' 
 
 'Never mind that, dame,' said Julian; 'do but only 
 tell me what has happened at Martindale Castle? I see 
 the beacon is extinguished.' 
 
 'Is it in troth? — ay, like enough; then good Sir Geof- 
 frey is gone to Heaven with my old Roger Raine ! ' 
 
 12
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 '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 party at the castle, with buff- 
 coats and bandeliers, and one of the Parliament's folks, 
 like in Oliver's time. My old Roger Raine would have 
 shut the gates of the inn against them, but he is in the 
 church-yard, and Matt 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 
 now; and so they went up to the castle, and there was 
 a fray, it is like, as the old knight was no man to take 
 napping, as poor Roger Raine used to say. Always the 
 officers 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 castle is out, as your honour says, 
 why, doubtless, the old gentleman is dead.' 
 
 ' Gracious Heaven ! Dear dame, for love or gold, let me 
 have a horse, to make for the castle ! ' 
 
 'The castle!' said the dame. 'The Roundheads, as 
 my poor Roger called them, will kill you as they have 
 killed your father. Better creep into the woodhouse, and 
 I will send Bett with a blanket and some supper. Or 
 stay — my old Dobbin stands in the little stable beside 
 the hen-coop — e'en take him, and make the best of your 
 way out of the country, for there is no safety 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 further, only that, just as he 
 turned to go oflf to the stable, the compassionate female 
 was heard to exclaim — ' O Lord ! what will Matthew 
 
 13
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 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 darkness of the 
 place, Julian succeeded marvellous quickly in preparing 
 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, 
 Uttle accustomed to such exertions, snorted, panted, and 
 trotted as briskly as he could, until at length he brought 
 his rider before the entrance-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 two large flanking 
 towers. Peveril dismounted, turned his horse loose, and 
 advanced to the gate, which, contrary to his expectation, 
 he found open. He entered the large courtyard; 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-gate, as it was called, was, since 
 the partially decayed state of the family, seldom opened, 
 save on occasions of particular ceremony. A smaller pos- 
 tern 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.
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 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-apart- 
 ment; and his alarm 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 dis- 
 played warranted all the evil bodings which he had 
 entertained. 
 
 In front of him stood 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 resist- 
 ance. 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 em- 
 blem 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 JuHan, 
 and she exclaimed, 'Merciful Heaven! my son! — the 
 misery of our house is complete ! ' 
 
 * My son ! ' echoed Sir Geoffrey, starting from the sul- 
 len state of dejection, and swearing a deep oath; 'thou 
 art come in the right time, Julian. Strike me one good 
 blow — cleave me that traitorous thief from the crown 
 
 IS
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to the brisket! and that done, I care not what comes 
 next' 
 
 The sight of his father's situation made the son forget 
 the inequality of the contest which he was about to pro- 
 voke. 
 
 'Villains/ he 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 Geoffrey, 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!' 
 
 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 not 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 compelling the two guards to give 
 groimd, seized on his collar, and attempted to master his 
 sword. Suddenly dropping that weapon and snatching 
 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 Bridgenorth, blackened with the explosion, which 
 had even set fire to a 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 those with whom he had been at first engaged. 
 
 i6
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Heed it not, Julian/ said Sir Geoffrey — 'heed it not, 
 my brave boy; that shot has balanced all accompts. But 
 how — what the devil — he lives ! 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 Ju- 
 lian, 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 Uke the rins- 
 ings of Beelzebub's porridge-pot!' 
 
 'Sir Geoffrey,' said Major Bridgenorth, 'I have al- 
 ready told you, that with you I will hold no argument; 
 for to you I am not accountable for any of my actions.' 
 
 'Master Bridgenorth,' said the lady, making a strong 
 effort to speak, and to speak with calmness, 'whatever 
 revenge your Christian state of conscience may permit 
 you to take on my husband — I — I, who have some 
 right to experience compassion at your hand — for most 
 sincerely did I compassionate you when the hand of 
 Heaven was heavy on you — I implore you not to in- 
 volve my son in our common ruin ! 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.' 
 
 88 17
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 '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 mon- 
 grel 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 o£f old scores, as 
 far as tough crab-tree and cold iron will bear me out.' 
 
 'Sir Geoffrey,' replied Bridgenorth, '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, ad- 
 dressed 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 
 improvident debtor.' 
 
 'You a magistrate!' said the knight; '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 
 Papist. There was never turmoil in the state, 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! It can but incense Master 
 Bridgenorth, who might otherwise consider that in com- 
 mon charity — ' 
 
 'Incense him!' said Sir Geoffrey, impatiently inter- 
 rupting her; 'God's death, madam, you will drive me 
 mad! Have you lived so long in this world, and yet ex- 
 pect consideration and charity from an old starved wolf 
 
 i8
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 like that? And if he had it, do you think that I, or you, 
 madam, as my wife, are subjects for his charity? Julian^ 
 my poor fellow, I am sorry thou hast come so unluckily, 
 since thy petronel was not better loaded; but thy credit 
 is lost for ever as a marksman.' 
 
 This angry colloquy passed so rapidly on all sides, 
 that JuHan, scarce recovered from the extremity of as- 
 tonishment with which he was overwhelmed at finding 
 himself suddenly plunged into a situation of such extrem- 
 ity, had no time to consider in what way he could most 
 effectually act for the succour of his parents. To speak 
 Bridgenorth fair seemed the more prudent course; but 
 to this his pride could hardly stoop; yet he forced himself 
 to say, with as much calmness as he could assume, 'Mas- 
 ter Bridgenorth, since you act as a magistrate, I desire 
 to be treated according to the laws of England, and de- 
 mand to know of what we are accused, and by whose 
 authority we are arrested? ' 
 
 'Here is another howlet for ye!' exclaimed the im- 
 petuous 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, 
 think ye, beyond the Parliament's or the devil's?' 
 
 * Who speaks of the ParHament? ' said a person enter- 
 ing, whom Peveril recognised as the ofl5cial person whom 
 he had before seen at the horse-dealer's, and who now 
 bustled in with all the conscious dignity of plenary au- 
 thority — 'who talks of the Parliament?' he exclaimed. 
 ' I promise you, enough has been found in this house to 
 convict twenty plotters. Here be arms, and that good 
 store. Bring them in, captain.' 
 
 'The very same,' exclaimed the captain, approaching, 
 
 19
 
 ;,WAvERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'which I mention in my printed Narrative of Informa- 
 tion, lodged before the Honourable House of Commons; 
 they were commissioned from old Vander Huys of 
 Rotterdam, by orders of Don John of Austria, for the 
 service of the Jesuits.' 
 
 'Now, by this light,' said Sir Geoffrey, 'they are the 
 pikes, musketoons, and pistols that have been hidden 
 in the garret ever since Naseby fight!' 
 
 'And here,' said the captain's yoke-fellow, Everett, 
 *are proper priest's trappings — antiphoners, and mis- 
 sals, and copes, I warrant you — ay, and proper pictures, 
 too, for Papists to mutter and bow over.' 
 
 'Now, plague on thy snuffling whine,' said Sir Geof- 
 frey; 'here is a rascal will swear my grandmother's old 
 farthingale to be priest's vestments, and the story-book 
 of " Owlenspiegel " a Popish missal!' 
 
 'But how's this, Master Bridgenorth?' said Topham, 
 addressing the magistrate. 'Your honour has been as 
 busy as we have; and you have caught another knave 
 while we recovered these toys.' 
 
 'I think, sir,' said Julian, 'if you look into your war- 
 rant, which, if I mistake not, names the persons whom 
 you are directed to arrest, you will find you have no 
 title to apprehend me.' 
 
 'Sir,' said the officer, puflSng with importance, 'I do 
 not know who you are; but I would you were the best 
 man in England, that I might teach you the respect due 
 to the warrant of the House. Sir, there steps not the 
 man within the British seas but I will arrest him on au- 
 thority of this bit of parchment; and I do arrest you 
 accordingly. What do you accuse him of, gentlemen?' 
 
 Dangerfield swaggered forward, and peeping under 
 20
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Julian's hat, 'Stop my vital breath,' he exclaimed, 'but 
 I have seen you before, my friend, an I could but think 
 where; but my memory is not worth a bean, since I have 
 been obliged to use it so much of late, in the behalf of the 
 poor state. But I do know the fellow; and I have seen 
 him amongst the Papists — I '11 take that on my assured 
 damnation.' 
 
 'Why, Captain Dangerfield,' said the captain's 
 smoother but more dangerous associate, ' verily, it is the 
 same youth whom we saw at the horse-merchant's yes- 
 terday; and we had matter against him then, only Mas- 
 ter Topham did not desire us to bring it out.' 
 
 *Ye may bring out what ye will against him now,' 
 said Topham, 'for he hath blasphemed the warrant of the 
 House. I think ye said ye saw him somewhere?' 
 
 'Ay, verily,' said Everett, 'I have seen him amongst 
 the seminary pupils at St. Omer's; he was who but he 
 with the regents there.' 
 
 'Nay, Master Everett, collect yourself,' said Topham ; 
 'for, as I think, you said you saw him at a consult of the 
 Jesuits in London.' 
 
 'It was I said so. Master Topham,' said the un- 
 daunted Dangerfield; 'and mine is the tongue that will 
 swear it.' 
 
 'Good Master Topham,' said Bridgenorth, 'you may 
 suspend further inquiry at present, as it doth but fatigue 
 and perplex the memory of the king's witnesses.' 
 
 'You are wrong, Master Bridgenorth — clearly wrong. 
 It doth but keep them in wind — only breathes them, 
 like greyhounds before a coursing-match.' 
 
 'Be it so,' said Bridgenorth, with his usual indifference 
 of manner; 'but at present this youth must stand com- 
 
 21
 
 IWAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 mitted upon a warrant, which I will presently sign, of 
 having assaulted me while in discharge of my duty as a 
 magistrate, for the rescue of a person legally attached. 
 Did you not hear the report of a pistol?' 
 
 'I will swear to it,' said Everett. 
 
 'And I,' said Dangerfield. 'While we were making 
 search in the cellar, I heard something very like a pistol- 
 shot; but I conceived it to be the drawing of a long- 
 corked bottle of sack, to see whether there were any 
 Popish relics in the inside on't.' 
 
 'A pistol-shot!' exclaimed Topham; 'here might have 
 been a second Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey's matter. Oh, 
 thou real spawn of the red old dragon ! for he too would 
 have resisted the House's warrant, had we not taken 
 him something at unawares. Master Bridgenorth, you 
 are a judicious magistrate and a worthy servant of the 
 state; I would we had many such sound Protestant 
 justices. Shall I have this young fellow away with his 
 parents — what think you? or will you keep him for 
 reexamination?' 
 
 'Master Bridgenorth,' said Lady Peveril, in spite of 
 her husband's efforts to interrupt her, 'for God's sake, 
 if ever you knew what it was to love one of the many 
 children you have lost, or her who is now left to you, do 
 not pursue your vengeance to the blood of my poor boy ! 
 I will forgive you all the rest — all the distress you have 
 wrought — all the yet greater misery with which you 
 threaten us; but do not be extreme with one who never 
 can have offended you. Believe, that if your ears are 
 shut against the cry of a despairing mother, those which 
 are open to the complaint of all who sorrow will hear my 
 petition and your answer.' 
 
 22
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 The agony of mind and of voice with which Lady 
 Peveril uttered these words seemed to thrill through all 
 present, though most of them were but too much inured 
 to such scenes. Every one was silent when, ceasing to 
 speak, she fixed on Bridgenorth her eyes, glistening with 
 tears, with the eager anxiety of one whose life or death 
 seemed to depend upon the answer to be returned. Even 
 Bridgenorth's inflexibility seemed to be shaken; and his 
 voice was tremulous, as he answered, 'Madam, I would 
 to God I had the present means of reUeving your great 
 distress otherwise than by recommending to you a reli- 
 ance upon Providence; and that you take heed to your 
 spirit, that it murmur not under this crook in your lot. 
 For me, I am but as a rod in the hand of the strong man, 
 which smites not of itself, but because it is wielded by 
 the arm of him who holds the same.' 
 
 * Even as I and my black rod are guided by the Com- 
 mons of England,' said Master Topham, who seemed 
 marvellously pleased with the illustration. 
 
 Julian now thought it time to say something in his own 
 behalf; and he endeavoured to temper it with as much 
 composure as it was possible for him to assume. ' Master 
 Bridgenorth,' he said, *I neither dispute your authority 
 nor this gentleman's warrant — ' 
 
 * You do not? ' said Topham. ' O ho, master youngster, 
 I thought we should bring you to your senses presently ! ' 
 
 'Then, if you so will it, Master Topham,' said Bridge- 
 north, ' thus it shall be. You shall set out with early day, 
 taking with you, towards London, the persons of Sir 
 Geoffrey and Lady Peveril; and that they may travel 
 according to their quality, you will allow them their 
 coach, sufficiently guarded.' 
 
 23
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'I will travel with them myself,' said Topham; 'for 
 these rough Derbyshire roads are no easy riding; and 
 my very eyes are weary with looking on these bleak 
 hills. In the coach I can sleep as sound as if I were in 
 the House, and Master Bodderbrains on his legs.' 
 
 '' It will become you so to take your ease. Master Top- 
 ham,' answered Bridgenorth. 'For this youth, I will 
 take him under my charge and bring him up my- 
 self.' 
 
 'I may not be answerable for that, worthy Master 
 Bridgenorth,' said Topham, 'since he comes within the 
 warrant of the House.' 
 
 'Nay, but,' said Bridgenorth, 'he is only under cus- 
 tody for an assault, with the purpose of a rescue; and I 
 counsel you against meddling with him, unless you have 
 stronger guard. Sir Geoffrey is now old and broken, but 
 this young fellow is in the flower of his youth, and hath 
 at his beck all the debauched young Cavaliers of the 
 neighbourhood. You will scarce cross the country with- 
 out a rescue.' 
 
 Topham eyed Julian wistfully, as a spider may be sup- 
 posed to look upon a stray wasp which has got into his 
 web, and which he longs to secure, though he fears the 
 consequences of attempting him. 
 
 Julian himself repUed, ' I know not if this separation 
 be well or ill meant on your part. Master Bridgenorth; 
 but on mine, I am only desirous to share the fate of my 
 parents ; and therefore I will give my word of honour to 
 attempt neither rescue nor escape, on condition you do 
 not separate me from them.' 
 
 'Do not say so, Julian,' said his mother. 'Abide with 
 Master Bridgenorth; my mind tells me he cannot mean 
 
 24
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 so ill by us as his rough conduct would now lead us to 
 infer.' 
 
 'And I,' said Sir Geoffrey, 'know, that between the 
 doors of my father's house and the gates of hell there 
 steps not such a villain on the ground. And if I wish 
 my hands ever to be unbound again, it is because I 
 hope for one downright blow at a grey head that has 
 hatched more treason than the whole Long Parlia- 
 ment.' 
 
 'Away with thee!' said the zealous officer; 'is Parlia- 
 ment a word for so foul a mouth as thine? Gentlemen,' 
 he added, turning to Everett and Dangerfield, 'you will 
 bear witness to this.' 
 
 'To his having reviled the House of Commons — by 
 G — d, that I will ! ' said Dangerfield ; ' I will take it on my 
 damnation.' 
 
 'And verily,' said Everett, 'as he spoke of Parliament 
 generally, he hath even contemned the House of Lords 
 also.' 
 
 'Why, ye poor insignificant wretches,' said Sir Geof- 
 frey, 'whose very Hfe is a He, and whose bread is perjury, 
 would you pervert my inno^^ent words almost as soon as 
 they have quitted my lips? I tell you the country is well 
 weary of you; and should Englishmen come to their 
 senses, the jail, the pillory, the whipping-post, and the 
 gibbet will be too good preferment for such base blood- 
 suckers. And now. Master Bridgenorth, you and they 
 may do your worst; for I will not open my mouth to 
 utter a single word while I am in the company of such 
 knaves.' 
 
 'Perhaps, Sir Geoffrey,' answered Bridgenorth, 'you 
 would better have consulted your own safety in adopt- 
 
 25
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ing that resolution a little sooner: the tongue is a little 
 member, but it causes much strife. You, Master Julian, 
 will please to follow me, and without remonstrance or 
 resistance; for you must be aware that I have the means 
 of compelling.' 
 
 JuHan was, indeed, but too sensible that he had no 
 other course but that of submission to superior force; 
 but ere he left the apartment he kneeled down to receive 
 his father's blessing, which the old man bestowed not 
 without a tear in his eye, and in the emphatic words, 
 ' God bless thee, my boy, and keep thee good and true to 
 church and king, whatever wind shall bring foul weather ! ' 
 
 His mother was only able to pass her hand over his 
 head, and to implore him, in a low tone of voice, not to 
 be rash or violent in any attempt to render them assist- 
 ance. 'We are innocent,' she said, *my son — we are 
 innocent; and we are in God's hands. Be the thought 
 our best comfort and protection.' 
 
 Bridgenorth now signed to Julian to follow him, which 
 he did, accompanied, or rather conducted, by the two 
 guards who had first disarmed him. When they had 
 passed from the apartment, and were at the door of the 
 outward hall, Bridgenorth asked Julian whether he 
 should consider him as imder parole; in which case, he 
 said, he would dispense with all other security but his 
 own promise. 
 
 Peveril, who could not help hoping somewhat from the 
 favourable and unresentful manner in which he was 
 treated by one whose life he had so recently attempted, 
 replied, without hesitation, that he would give his parole 
 for twenty-four hours, neither to attempt to escape by 
 force nor by flight. 
 
 26
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *It is wisely said,' replied Bridgenorth; 'for though 
 you might cause bloodshed, be assured that your utmost 
 efforts could do no service to your parents. Horses there 
 — horses to the courtyard ! ' 
 
 The tramping of the horses was soon heard; and in 
 obedience to Bridgenorth's signal, and in compliance 
 with his promise, Julian mounted one which was pre- 
 sented to him, and prepared to leave the house of his 
 fathers, in which his parents were now prisoners, and to 
 go, he knew not whither, under the custody of one known 
 to be the ancient enemy of his family. He was rather 
 surprised at observing that Bridgenorth and he were 
 about to travel without any other attendants. 
 
 When they were mounted, and as they rode slowly 
 towards the outer gate of the courtyard, Bridgenorth 
 said to him, *It is not every one who would thus unre- 
 servedly commit his safety, by travelling at night and 
 unaided, with the hot-brained youth who so lately at- 
 tempted his life.' 
 
 'Master Bridgenorth,' said Julian, 'I might tell you 
 truly, that I knew you not at the time when I directed 
 my weapon against you; but I must also add, that the 
 cause in which I used it might have rendered me, even 
 had I known you, a slight respecter of your person. At 
 present, I do know you, and have neither malice against 
 your person nor the liberty of a parent to fight for. Be- 
 sides, you have my word; and when was a Peveril known 
 to break it? ' 
 
 'Ay,' replied his companion, 'a Peveril — a Peveril of 
 the Peak ! — a name which has long sounded hke a war- 
 trumpet in the land ; but which has now perhaps sounded 
 its last loud note. Look back, young man, on the dark- 
 
 27
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 some turrets of your father's house, which uplift them- 
 selves as proudly on the brow of the hill as their owners 
 raised themselves above the sons of their people. Think 
 upon your father, a captive — yourself, in some sort a 
 fugitive — your Hght quenched — your glory abased — 
 your estate wrecked and impoverished. Think that 
 Providence has subjected the destinies of the race of 
 Peveril to one whom, in their aristocratic pride, they 
 held as a plebeian upstart. Think of this ; and when you 
 again boast of your ancestry, remember, that He who 
 raiseth the lowly can also abase the high in heart.' 
 
 Julian did indeed gaze for an instant, with a swelling 
 heart, upon the dimly-seen turrets of his paternal man- 
 sion, on which poured the moonlight, mixed with long 
 shadows of the towers and trees. But while he sadly 
 acknowledged the truth of Bridgenorth's observation, he 
 felt indignant at his ill-timed triumph. 'If fortune had 
 followed worth,' he said, 'the Castle of Martindale and 
 the name of Peveril had afforded no room for their 
 enemy's vainglorious boast. But those who have stood 
 high on Fortune's wheel must abide by the consequence 
 of its revolutions. Thus much I will at least say for my 
 father's house, that it has not stood unhonoured; nor 
 will it fall — if it is to fall — unlamented. Forbear, then, 
 if you are indeed the Christian you call yourself, to exult 
 in the misfortunes of others, or to confide in your own 
 prosperity. If the light of our house be now quenched, 
 God can rekindle it in His own good time.' 
 
 Peveril broke off in extreme surprise ; for, as he spoke 
 the last words, the bright red beams of the family beacon 
 began again to glimmer from its wonted watch-tower, 
 checkering the pale moonbeam with a ruddier glow. 
 
 28
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Bridgenorth also gazed on this unexpected illumination 
 with surprise, and not, as it seemed, without disquietude. 
 'Young man,' he resumed, 'it can scarcely be but that 
 Heaven intends to work great things by your hand, so 
 singularly has that augury followed on your words.' 
 
 So sa3ang, he put his horse once more in motion ; and 
 looking back, from time to time, as if to assure himself 
 that the beacon of the castle was actually rekindled, he 
 led the way through the well-known paths and alleys, to 
 his own house of Moultrassie, followed by Peveril, who, 
 although sensible that the light might be altogether acci- 
 dental, could not but receive as a good omen an event so 
 intimately connected with the traditions and usages of 
 his family. 
 
 They alighted at the hall-door, which was hastily 
 opened by a female; and while the deep tone of Bridge- 
 north called on the groom to take their horses, the well- 
 known voice of his daughter Alice was heard to exclaim 
 in thanksgiving to God, who had restored her father in 
 safety.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 We meet, as men see phantoms in a dream, 
 Which glide, and sigh, and sign, and move their lips, 
 But make no sound; or, if they utter voice, 
 'T is but a low and undistinguish'd moaning. 
 Which has nor word nor sense of utter'd sound. 
 
 The Chie/tain. 
 
 We said, at the conclusion of the last chapter, that a 
 female form appeared at the door of Moultrassie Hall; 
 and that the well-known accents of Alice Bridgenorth 
 were heard to hail the return of her father, from what she 
 naturally dreaded as a perilous visit to the Castle of Mar- 
 tindale. 
 
 Julian, who followed his conductor with a throbbing 
 heart into the lighted hall, was therefore prepared to see 
 her whom he best loved with her arms thrown around 
 her father. The instant she had quitted his paternal 
 embrace, she was aware of the unexpected guest who 
 had returned in his company. A deep blush, rapidly 
 succeeded by deadly paleness, and again by a slighter 
 suffusion, showed plainly to her lover that his sudden 
 appearance was anything but indifferent to her. He 
 bowed profoundly, a courtesy which she returned with 
 equal formality, but did not venture to approach more 
 nearly, feeling at once the delicacy of his own situation 
 and of hers. 
 
 Major Bridgenorth turned his cold, fixed, grey, mel- 
 ancholy glance first on the one of them and then on the 
 other. ' Some,' he said, gravely, ' would, in my case, have 
 avoided this meeting; but I have confidence in you both, 
 
 30
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 although you are young, and beset with the snares 
 incidental to your age. There are those within who 
 should not know that ye have been acquainted. Where- 
 fore, be wise, and be as strangers to each other.' 
 
 Julian and Alice exchanged glances as her father turned 
 from them, and, lifting a lamp which stood in the en- 
 trance-hall, led the way to the interior apartment. There 
 was Httle of consolation in this exchange of looks; for 
 the sadness of Alice's glance was mingled with fear, and 
 that of Julian clouded by an anxious sense of doubt. 
 The look also was but momentary; for AHce, springing to 
 her father, took the light out of his hand, and, stepping 
 before him, acted as the usher of both into the large 
 oaken parlour, which has been already mentioned as the 
 apartment in which Bridgenorth had spent the hours of 
 dejection which followed the death of his consort and 
 family. It was now hghted up as for the reception of 
 company; and five or six persons sat in it, in the plain, 
 black, stiff dress which was affected by the formal Puri- 
 tans of the time, in evidence of their contempt of the 
 manners of the luxurious court of Charles the Second, 
 amongst whom excess of extravagance in apparel, like 
 excess of every other kind, was highly fashionable. 
 
 JuHan at first glanced his eyes but slightly along the 
 range of grave and severe faces which composed this 
 society — men, sincere perhaps in their pretensions to a 
 superior purity of conduct and morals, but in whom that 
 high praise was somewhat chastened by an affected 
 austerity in dress and manners allied to those Pharisees 
 of old who made broad their phylacteries, and would 
 be seen of men to fast, and to discharge with rigid punc- 
 tuality the observances of the law. Their dress was al- 
 
 31
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 most uniformly a black cloak and doublet, cut straight 
 and close, and undecorated with lace or embroidery of 
 any kind, black Flemish breeches and hose, square-toed 
 shoes, with large roses made of serge ribbon. Two or 
 three had huge loose boots of calf-leather, and almost 
 every one was begirt with a long rapier, which was sus- 
 pended by leathern thongs to a plain belt of buff or of 
 black leather. One or two of the elder guests, whose hair 
 had been thinned by time, had their heads covered with 
 a skullcap of black silk or velvet, which, being drawn 
 down betwixt the ears and the skull, and permitting no 
 hair to escape, occasioned the former to project in the 
 ungraceful manner which may be remarked in old pic- 
 tures, and which procured for the Puritans the term of 
 'prick-eared Romidheads,' so unceremoniously applied 
 to them by their contemporaries. 
 
 These worthies were ranged against the wall, each in 
 his ancient, high-backed, long-legged chair; neither look- 
 ing towards, nor apparently discoursing with, each other; 
 but plunged in their own reflections, or awaiting, like an 
 assembly of Quakers, the quickening power of Divine 
 inspiration. 
 
 Major Bridgenorth glided along this formal society 
 with noiseless step, and a composed severity of manner 
 resembling their own. He paused before each in succes- 
 sion, and apparently communicated, as he passed, the 
 transactions of the evening, and the circumstances under 
 which the heir of Martindale Castle was now a guest at 
 Moultrassie Hall. Each seemed to stir at his brief detail, 
 like a range of statues in an enchanted hall, starting into 
 something like life as a talisman is appHed to them suc- 
 cessively. Most of them, as they heard the narrative of 
 
 32
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 their host, cast upon Julian a look of curiosity, blended 
 with haughty scorn and the consciousness of spiritual 
 superiority; though, in one or two instances, the milder 
 influences of compassion were sufficiently visible. Peveril 
 would have undergone this gauntlet of eyes with more 
 impatience had not his own been for the time engaged in 
 following the motions of AHce, who glided through the 
 apartment, and, only speaking very briefly, and in whis- 
 pers, to one or two of the company who addressed her, 
 took her place beside a treble-hooded old lady, the only 
 female of the party, and addressed herself to her in such 
 earnest conversation as might dispense with her raising 
 her head or looking at any others in the company. 
 
 Her father put a question, to which she was obliged to 
 return an answer — 'Where was Mistress Debbitch?' 
 
 'She had gone out,' AHce repHed, 'early after sunset, 
 to visit some old acquaintances in the neighbourhood, 
 and she had not yet returned.' 
 
 Major Bridgenorth made a gesture indicative of dis- 
 pleasure; and, not content with that, expressed his deter- 
 mined resolution that Dame Deborah should no longer 
 remain a member of his family. 'I will have those,' he 
 said aloud, and without regarding the presence of his 
 guests, 'and those only, around me, who know to keep 
 within the sober and modest bounds of a Christian 
 family. Who pretends to more freedom must go out 
 from among us, as not being of us.' 
 
 A deep and emphatic humming noise, which was at 
 that time the mode in which the Puritans signified their 
 applause, as well of the doctrines expressed by a favour- 
 ite divine in the pulpit as of those delivered in private 
 society, ratified the approbation of the assessors, and 
 
 28 33
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 seemed to secure the dismission of the unfortunate gov- 
 ernante, who stood thus detected of having strayed out 
 of bounds. Even Peveril, although he had reaped con- 
 siderable advantages, in his early acquaintance with 
 Alice, from the mercenary and gossiping disposition of 
 her governess, could not hear of her dismissal without 
 approbation, so much was he desirous that, in the hour 
 of difficulty, which might soon approach, Alice might 
 have the benefit of countenance and advice from one 
 of her own sex of better manners and less suspicious 
 probity than Mistress Debbitch. 
 
 Almost immediately after this communication had 
 taken place, a servant in mourning showed his thin, 
 pinched, and wrinkled visage in the apartment, announc- 
 ing, with a voice more Hke a passing bell than the herald 
 of a banquet, that refreshments were provided in an ad- 
 joining apartment. Gravely leading the way, with his 
 daughter on one side and the Puritanical female whom 
 we have distinguished on the other, Bridgenorth himself 
 ushered his company, who followed with little attention 
 to order or ceremony, into the eating-room, where a 
 substantial supper was provided. 
 
 In this manner, Peveril, although entitled, according 
 to ordinary ceremonial, to some degree of precedence — 
 a matter at that time considered of much importance, 
 although now little regarded — was left among the last 
 of those who quitted the parlour; and might indeed have 
 brought up the rear of all, had not one of the company, 
 who was himself late in the retreat, bowed and resigned 
 to Julian the rank in the company which had been 
 usurped by others. 
 
 This act of poHteness naturally induced Julian to 
 
 34
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 examine the features of the person who had ofTered him 
 this civility; and he started to observe, under the pinched 
 velvet cap and above the short band-strings, the counte- 
 nance of Ganlesse, as he called himself — his companion 
 on the preceding evening. He looked again and again, 
 especially when all were placed at the supper-board, 
 and when, consequently, he had frequent opportunities 
 of observing this person fixedly, without any breach of 
 good manners. At first he wavered in his belief, and was 
 much inclined to doubt the reaUty of his recollection; for 
 the difference of dress was such as to effect a considerable 
 change of appearance; and the countenance itself, far 
 from exliibiting anything marked or memorable, was one 
 of those ordinary visages which we see almost without 
 remarking them, and which leave our memory so soon 
 as the object is withdrawn from our eyes. But the 
 impression upon his mind returned, and became 
 stronger, until it induced him to watch with peculiar 
 attention the manners of the individual who had thus 
 attracted his notice. 
 
 During the time of a very prolonged grace before meat, 
 which was delivered by one of the company, who, from 
 his Geneva band and serge doublet, presided, as Julian 
 supposed, over some dissenting congregation, he noticed 
 that this man kept the same demure and severe cast of 
 countenance usually affected by the Puritans, and which 
 rather caricatured the reverence unquestionably due 
 upon such occasions. His eyes were turned upward, and 
 his huge penthouse hat, with a high crown and broad 
 brim, held in both hands before him, rose and fell with 
 the cadences of the speaker's voice; thus marking time, 
 as it were, to the periods of the benediction. Yet when 
 
 35
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the slight bustle took place which attends the adjusting 
 of chairs, etc., as men sit down to table, Julian's eye 
 encountered that of the stranger; and as their looks met, 
 there glanced from those of the latter an expression of 
 satirical humour and scorn, which seemed to intimate 
 internal ridicule of the gravity of his present demeanour. 
 
 Julian again sought to fix his eye, in order to ascertain 
 that he had not mistaken the tendency of this transient 
 expression, but the stranger did not allow him another 
 opportunity. He might have been discovered by the 
 tone of his voice; but the individual in question spoke 
 little, and in whispers, which was indeed the fashion of 
 the whole company, whose demeanour at table resem- 
 bled that of mourners at a funeral feast. 
 
 The entertainment itself was coarse, though plentiful; 
 and must, according to Julian's opinion, be distasteful 
 to one so exquisitely skilled in good cheer, and so capable 
 of en jo}dng, critically and scientifically, the genial prep- 
 arations of his companion. Smith, as Ganlesse had shown 
 himself on the preceding evening. Accordingly, upon 
 close observation, he remarked that the food which he 
 took upon his plate remained there unconsumed; and 
 that his actual supper consisted only of a crust of bread 
 with a glass of wine. 
 
 The repast was hurried over with the haste of those 
 who think it shame, if not sin, to make mere animal en- 
 joyments the means of consuming time or of receiving 
 pleasure; and when men wiped their mouths and mus- 
 tachios, Julian remarked that the object of his curiosity 
 used a handkerchief of the finest cambric — an article 
 rather inconsistent with the exterior plainness, not to 
 say coarseness, of his appearance. He used also several 
 
 36 
 
 I
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 of the more minute refinements, then only observed at 
 tables of the higher rank; and Julian thought he could 
 discern at every turn something of courtly manners and 
 gestures, under the precise and rustic simplicity of the 
 character which he had assumed.^ 
 
 But if this were indeed that same Ganlesse with whom 
 Julian had met on the preceding evening, and who had 
 boasted the facility with which he could assume any 
 character which he pleased to represent for the time, 
 what could be the purpose of his present disguise? He 
 was, if his own words could be credited, a person of some 
 importance, who dared to defy the danger of those ofl5- 
 cers and informers before whom all ranks at that time 
 trembled; nor was he likely, as Julian conceived, with- 
 out some strong purpose, to subject himself to such a 
 masquerade as the present, which could not be otherwise 
 than irksome to one whose conversation proclaimed him 
 of light life and free opinions. Was his appearance here 
 for good or for evil? Did it respect his father's house, or 
 his own person, or the family of Bridgenorth? Was the 
 real character of Ganlesse known to the master of the 
 house, inflexible as he was in all which concerned morals 
 as well as religion? If not, might not the machinations 
 of a brain so subtle affect the peace and happiness of 
 AUce Bridgenorth? 
 
 These were questions which no reflection could enable 
 Peveril to answer. His eyes glanced from Alice to the 
 stranger; and new fears, and undefined suspicions, in 
 which the safety of that beloved and lovely girl was 
 implicated, mingled with the deep anxiety which already 
 
 ^ A Scottish gentleman in hiding, as it was emphatically termed, for 
 some concern in a Jacobite insurrection or plot, was discovered among a 
 number of ordinary persons by his use of the toothpick. 
 
 37
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 occupied his mind on account of his father and his 
 father's house. 
 
 He was in this tumult of mind when, after a thanks- 
 giving as long as the grace, the company arose from table, 
 and were instantly summoned to the exercise of family 
 worship. A train of domestics, grave, sad, and melan- 
 choly as their superiors, glided in to assist at this act of 
 devotion, and ranged themselves at the lower end of the 
 apartment. Most of these men were armed with long 
 tucks, as the straight stabbing swords, much used 
 by Cromwell's soldiery, were then called. Several had 
 large pistols also; and the corslets or cuirasses of some 
 were heard to clank as they seated themselves to partake 
 in this act of devotion. The ministry of him whom Julian 
 had supposed a preacher was not used on this occasion. 
 Major Bridgenorth himself read and expounded a chap- 
 ter of Scripture with much strength and manliness of 
 expression, although so as not to escape the charge of 
 fanaticism. The nineteenth chapter of Jeremiah was the 
 portion of Scripture which he selected; in which, under 
 the type of breaking a potter's vessel, the prophet pre- 
 sages the desolation of the Jews. The lecturer was not 
 naturally eloquent; but a strong, deep, and sincere con- 
 viction of the truth of what he said supplied him with 
 language of energy and fire, as he drew a parallel between 
 the abominations of the worship of Baal and the corrup- 
 tions of the Church of Rome — so favourite a topic with 
 the Puritans of that period; and denounced against the 
 Catholics, and those who favored them, that hissing and 
 desolation which the prophet directed against the city of 
 Jerusalem. His hearers made a yet closer application 
 than the lecturer himself suggested; and many a dark 
 
 38
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 proud eye intimated, by a glance on Julian, that on his 
 father's house were already, in some part, realised those 
 dreadful maledictions. 
 
 The lecture finished, Bridgenorth summoned them to 
 unite with him in prayer; and on a sHght change of 
 arrangements amongst the company, which took place 
 as they were about to kneel down, Julian found his place 
 next to the single-minded and beautiful object of his 
 affection, as she knelt, in her loveliness, to adore her 
 Creator. A short time was permitted for mental devo- 
 tion, during which Peveril could hear her half -breathed 
 petition for the promised blessings of peace on earth and 
 good-will towards the children of men. 
 
 The prayer which ensued was in a different tone. It 
 was poured forth by the same person who had officiated 
 as chaplain at the table, and was in the tone of a Boan- 
 erges, or Son of Thunder — a denouncer of crimes, an 
 invoker of judgments, almost a prophet of evil and of 
 destruction. The testimonies and the sins of the day 
 were not forgotten: the mysterious murder of Sir 
 Edmondsbury Godfrey was insisted upon; and thanks 
 and praise were offered, that the very night on which 
 they were assembled had not seen another offering of a 
 Protestant magistrate to the bloodthirsty fury of the 
 revengeful Catholics. 
 
 Never had JuHan found it more difficult, during an act 
 of devotion, to maintain his mind in a frame befitting 
 the posture and the occasion; and when he heard the 
 speaker return thanks for the downfall and devastation 
 of his family, he was strongly tempted to have started 
 upon his feet and charged him with offering a tribute 
 stained with falsehood and calumny at the throne of 
 
 39
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS, 
 
 truth itself. He resisted, however, an impulse which it 
 would have been insanity to have yielded to, and his 
 patience was not without its reward; for when his fair 
 neighbour arose from her knees, the lengthened and 
 prolonged prayer being at last concluded, he observed 
 that her eyes were streaming with tears ; and one glance 
 with which she looked at him in that moment showed 
 more of affectionate interest for him in his fallen for- 
 tunes and precarious condition than he had been able 
 to obtain from her when his worldly estate seemed so 
 much the more exalted of the two. 
 
 Cheered and fortified with the con\action that one 
 bosom in the company, and that in which he most ea- 
 gerly longed to secure an interest, sympathised with his 
 distress, he felt strong to endure whatever was to follow, 
 and shrunk not from the stern still smile with which, one 
 by one, the meeting regarded him as, gliding to their 
 several places of repose, they indulged themselves at 
 parting with a look of triumph on one whom they con- 
 sidered as their captive enemy. 
 
 Alice also passed by her lover, her eyes fixed on the 
 ground, and answered his low obeisance without raising 
 them. The room was now empty, but for Bridgenorth 
 and his guest, or prisoner, for it is difficult to say in 
 which capacity Peveril ought to regard himself. He took 
 an old brazen lamp from the table, and, leading the way, 
 said at the same time, 'I must be the uncourtly chamber- 
 lain who am to usher you to a place of repose more rude, 
 perhaps, than you have been accustomed to occupy.' 
 
 Julian followed him, in silence, up an old-fashioned 
 winding staircase, within a turret. At the landing-place 
 on the top was a small apartment, where an ordinary 
 
 40
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 pallet bed, two chairs, and a small stone table, were the 
 only furniture. 'Your bed,' continued Bridgenorth, as if 
 desirous to prolong their interview, 'is not of the softest; 
 but innocence sleeps as sound upon straw as on down.' 
 
 'Sorrow, Major Bridgenorth, finds little rest on either,' 
 replied JuHan. 'Tell me, for you seem to await some 
 question from me, what is to be the fate of my parents, 
 and why you separate me from them?' 
 
 Bridgenorth, for answer, indicated with his finger the 
 mark which his countenance still showed from the explo- 
 sion of Julian's pistol. 
 
 'That,' rephed Julian, 'is not the real cause of your 
 proceedings against me. It cannot be that you, who have 
 been a soldier, and are a man, can be surprised or dis- 
 pleased by my interference in the defence of my father. 
 Above all, you cannot, and I must needs say you do not, 
 believe that I would have raised my hand against you 
 personally, had there been a moment's time for recogni- 
 tion.' 
 
 'I may grant all this,' said Bridgenorth; 'but what the 
 better are you for my good opinion, or for the ease with 
 which I can forgive you the injury which you aimed at 
 me? You are in my custody as a magistrate, accused of 
 abetting the foul, bloody, and heathenish plot for the 
 establishment of Popery, the murder of the King, and 
 the general massacre of all true Protestants.' 
 
 'And on what grounds, either of fact or suspicion, dare 
 any one accuse me of such a crime? ' said Julian. ' I have 
 hardly heard of the plot, save by the mouth of common 
 rumour, which, while it speaks of nothing else, takes care 
 to say nothing distinctly even on that subject.' 
 
 'It may be enough for me to tell you,' replied Bridge- 
 
 41
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 north, 'and perhaps it is a word too much, that you are a 
 discovered intriguer, a spied spy, who carries tokens and 
 messages betwixt the Popish Countess of Derby and 
 the Catholic party in London. You have not conducted 
 your matters with such discretion but that this is well 
 known, and can be sufficiently proved. To this charge, 
 which you are well aware you cannot deny, these men, 
 Everett and Dangerfield, are not unwilling to add, from 
 the recollection of your face, other passages, which will 
 certainly cost you your Hfe when you come before a 
 Protestant jury.' 
 
 'They he like villains,' said Peveril, 'who hold me 
 accessory to any plot either against the King, the nation, 
 or the state of rehgion; and for the countess, her loyalty 
 has been too long and too highly proved to permit her 
 being impHcated in such injurious suspicions.' 
 
 'What she has already done,' said Bridgenorth, his 
 face darkening as he spoke, 'against the faithful cham- 
 pions of pure religion hath sufficiently shown of what she 
 is capable. She hath betaken herself to her rock, and 
 sits, as she thinks, in security, like the eagle reposing 
 after his bloody banquet. But the arrow of the fowler 
 may yet reach her: the shaft is whetted, the bow is 
 bended, and it will be soon seen whether Amalek or 
 Israel shall prevail. But for thee, Julian Peveril — why 
 should I conceal it from thee? — my heart yearns for 
 thee as a woman's for her first-born. To thee I will give, 
 at the expense of my own reputation, perhaps at the 
 risk of personal suspicion, for who, in these days of 
 doubt, shall be exempted from it? — to thee, I say, I will 
 give means of escape, which else were impossible to thee. 
 The staircase of this turret descends to the gardens, the 
 
 42
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 postern gate is unlatched, on the right hand lie the 
 stables, where you will find your own horse; take it, and 
 make for Liverpool. I will give you credit with a friend 
 under the name of Simon Simonson, one persecuted by 
 the prelates; and he will expedite your passage from the 
 kingdom.' 
 
 'Major Bridgenorth/ said Julian, 'I will not deceive 
 you. Were I to accept your offer of freedom, it would be 
 to attend to a higher call than that of mere self-preserv- 
 ation. My father is in danger, my mother in sorrow; 
 the voices of religion and nature call me to their side. I 
 am their only child — their only hope; I will aid them, 
 or perish with them ! ' 
 
 'Thou art mad,' said Bridgenorth; 'aid them thou 
 canst not, perish with them thou well mayst, and even 
 accelerate their ruin ; for, in addition to the charges with 
 which thy unhappy father is loaded, it would be no slight 
 aggravation that, while he meditated arming and calling 
 together the CathoHcs and High Churchmen of Cheshire 
 and Derbyshire, his son should prove to be the confiden- 
 tial agent of the Countess of Derby, who aided her in 
 making good her stronghold against the Protestant 
 commissioners, and was despatched by her to open 
 secret communication with the Popish interest in Lon- 
 don.' 
 
 'You have twice stated me as such an agent,' said 
 Peveril, resolved that his silence should not be construed 
 into an admission of the charge, though he felt that it 
 was in some degree well founded. 'What reason have 
 you for such an allegation? ' 
 
 'Will it sufiice for a proof of my intimate acquaintance 
 with your mystery,' replied Bridgenorth, 'if I should 
 
 43
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 repeat to you the last words which the countess used to 
 you when you left the castle of that Amalekitish woman? 
 Thus she spoke: "I am now a forlorn widow," she said, 
 "whom sorrow has made selfish."' 
 
 Peveril started, for these were the very words the 
 countess had used; but he instantly recovered himself, 
 and replied, *Be your information of what nature it will, 
 I deny and I defy it so far as it attaches aught like guilt 
 to me. There lives not a man more innocent of a dis- 
 loyal thought or of a traitorous purpose. What I say for 
 myself, I will, to the best of my knowledge, say and 
 maintain on account of the noble countess, to whom I 
 am indebted for nurture.' 
 
 'Perish, then, in thy obstinacy!' said Bridgenorth; 
 and turning hastily from him, he left the room, and 
 JuHan heard him hasten down the narrow staircase, as if 
 distrusting his own resolution. 
 
 With a heavy heart, yet with that confidence in an 
 overruling Providence which never forsakes a good and 
 brave man, Peveril betook himself to his lowly place of 
 repose.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 The course of human life is changeful still, 
 
 As is the fickle wind and wandering rill; 
 
 Or, like the light dance which the wild breeze weaves 
 
 Amidst the faded race of fallen leaves, 
 
 Which now its breath bears down, now tosses high. 
 
 Beats to the earth, or wafts to middle sky. 
 
 Such, and so varied, the precarious play 
 
 Of fate with man, frail tenant of a dayl 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Whilst, overcome with fatigue and worn out by anx- 
 iety, Julian Peveril slumbered as a prisoner in the house 
 of his hereditary enemy, Fortune was preparing his re- 
 lease by one of those sudden frolics with which she loves 
 to confound the calculations and expectancies of hu- 
 manity; and as she fixes on strange agents for such 
 purposes, she condescended to employ, on the present 
 occasion, no less a personage than Mistress Deborah 
 Debbitch. 
 
 Instigated, doubtless, by the pristine reminiscences 
 of former times, no sooner had that most prudent and 
 considerate dame found herself in the vicinity of the 
 scenes of her earlier days than she bethought herself of 
 a visit to the ancient housekeeper of Martindale Castle, 
 Dame Ellesmere by name, who, long retired from 
 active service, resided at the keeper's lodge, in the 
 west thicket, with her nephew. Lance Outram, sub- 
 sisting upon the savings of her better days, and on a 
 small pension allowed by Sir Geofifrey to her age and 
 faithful services. 
 
 Now, Dame Ellesmere and Mistress Deborah had 
 
 45
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 not by any means been formerly on so friendly a footing 
 as this haste to visit her might be supposed to intimate. 
 But years had taught Deborah to forget and forgive; or 
 perhaps she had no special objection, under cover of a 
 visit to Dame Ellesmere, to take the chance of seeing 
 what changes time had made on her old admirer the 
 keeper. Both inhabitants were in the cottage when, 
 after having seen her master set forth on his expedition 
 to the castle, Mistress Debbitch, dressed in her very 
 best gown, footed it through gutter, and over stile, and 
 by pathway green, to knock at their door, and to lift 
 the latch at the hospitable invitation which bade her 
 come in. 
 
 Dame Ellesmere's eyes were so dim that, even with 
 the aid of spectacles, she failed to recognise, in the portly 
 and mature personage who entered their cottage, the 
 tight, well-made lass who, presuming on her good looks 
 and flippant tongue, had so often provoked her by 
 insubordination; and her former lover, the redoubted 
 Lance, not being conscious that ale had given rotundity 
 to his own figure, which was formerly so slight and ac- 
 tive, and that brandy had transferred to his nose the 
 colour which had once occupied his cheeks, was unable 
 to discover that Deborah's French cap, composed of 
 sarsenet and Brussels lace, shaded the features which had 
 so often procured him a rebuke from Dr. Dummerar, 
 for suffering his eyes, during the time of prayers, to 
 wander to the maid-servants' bench. 
 
 In brief, the blushing visitor was compelled to make 
 herself known; and when known, was received by aunt 
 and nephew with the most sincere cordiality. 
 
 The home-brewed was produced ; and, in lieu of more 
 
 46
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 vulgar food, a few slices of venison presently hissed in the 
 frying-pan, giving strong room for inference that Lance 
 Outram, in his capacity of keeper, neglected not his own 
 cottage when he supplied the larder at the castle. A 
 modest sip of the excellent Derbyshire ale and a taste of 
 the highly-seasoned hash soon placed Deborah entirely 
 at home with her old acquaintance. 
 
 Having put all necessary questions, and received all 
 suitable answers, respecting the state of the neighbour- 
 hood, and such of her own friends as continued to reside 
 there, the conversation began rather to flag, until De- 
 borah found the art of again renewing its interest by 
 communicating to her friends the dismal intelligence 
 that 'They must soon look for deadly bad news from the 
 castle; for that her present master. Major Bridgenorth, 
 had been summoned by some great people from London 
 to assist in taking her old master. Sir Geoffrey; and that 
 all Master Bridgenorth's servants, and several other per- 
 sons whom she named, friends and adherents of the same 
 interest, had assembled a force to surprise the castle; 
 and that as Sir Geoffrey was now so old, and gouty 
 withal, it could not be expected he should make the de- 
 fence he was wont; and then he was known to be so 
 stout-hearted, that it was not to be supposed that he 
 would yield up without stroke of sword; and then if he 
 was killed, as he was likely to be, amongst them that 
 liked never a bone of his body, and now had him at their 
 mercy, why, in that case, she. Dame Deborah, would 
 look upon Lady Peveril as little better than a dead 
 woman; and undoubtedly there would be a general 
 mourning through all that country, where they had such 
 great kin; and silks were likely to rise on it, as Master 
 
 47
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Lutestring, the mercer of Chesterfield, was like to feel 
 in his purse bottom. But for her part, let matters wag 
 how they would, an if Master Julian Peveril was to 
 come to his own, she could give as near a guess as e'er 
 another who was likely to be lady at Martindale.' 
 
 The text of this lecture, or, in other words, the fact that 
 Bridgenorth was gone with a party to attack Sir Geof- 
 frey Peveril in his own Castle of Martindale, sounded 
 so stunningly strange in the ears of those old retainers 
 of his family, that they had no power either to attend 
 to Mistress Deborah's inferences or to interrupt the 
 velocity of speech with which she poured them forth. 
 And when at length she made a breathless pause, all 
 that poor Dame Ellesmere could reply was the em- 
 phatic question, 'Bridgenorth brave Peveril of the 
 Peak! Is the woman mad?' 
 
 'Come — come, dame,' said Deborah, 'woman me 
 no more than I woman you. I have not been called 
 "Mistress" at the head of the table for so many years, 
 to be woman'd here by you. And for the news, it is as 
 true as that you are sitting there in a white hood, who 
 will wear a black one ere long.' 
 
 'Lance Outram,' said the old woman, 'make out, if 
 thou be'st a man, and listen about if aught stirs up at 
 the castle.' 
 
 'If there should,' said Outram, 'I am even too long 
 here'; and he caught up his cross-bow and one or two 
 arrows and rushed out of the cottage. 
 
 'Well-a-day!' said Mistress Deborah, 'see if my news 
 have not frightened away Lance Outram too, whom 
 they used to say nothing could start. But do not take 
 on so, dame ; for I daresay, if the castle and the lands pass 
 
 48
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 to my new master, Major Bridgenorth, as it is like they 
 will — for I have heard that he has powerful debts over 
 the estate — you shall have my good word with him, 
 and I promise you he is no bad man ; something precise 
 about preaching and praying, and about the dress which 
 one should wear, which, I must own, beseems not a 
 gentleman, as, to be sure, every woman knows best 
 what becomes her. But for you, dame, that wear a 
 Prayer Book at your girdle with your housewife-case, 
 and never change the fashion of your white hood, I dare- 
 say he will not grudge you the Httle matter you need, 
 and are not able to win.' 
 
 'Out, sordid jade!' exclaimed Dame Ellesmere, her 
 very flesh quivering betwixt apprehension and anger, 
 * and hold your peace this instant, or I will find those that 
 shall flay the very hide from thee with dog- whips. Hast 
 thou eat thy noble master's bread, not only to betray 
 his trust and fly from his service, but wouldst thou come 
 here, like an ill-omened bird as thou art, to triumph over 
 his downfall? ' 
 
 'Nay, dame,' said Deborah, over whom the violence 
 of the old woman had obtained a certain predominance; 
 *it is not I that say it, only the warrant of the ParUa- 
 ment folks.' 
 
 *I thought we had done with their warrants ever since 
 the blessed twenty-ninth of May,' said the old house- 
 keeper of Martindale Castle; 'but this I tell thee, sweet- 
 heart, that I have seen such warrants crammed, at the 
 sword's point, down the throats of them that brought 
 them ; and so shall this be, if there is one true man left 
 to drink of the Dove.' 
 
 As she spoke. Lance Outram reentered the cottage. 
 
 28 49
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'Naunt,' he said in dismay, 'I doubt it is true what she 
 says. The beacon tower is as black as my belt. No pole- 
 star of Peveril. What does that betoken? ' 
 
 'Death, ruin, and captivity,' exclaimed old Ellesmere. 
 'Make for the castle, thou knave. Thrust in thy great 
 body. Strike for the house that bred thee and fed thee; 
 and if thou art buried under the ruins, thou diest a man's 
 death.' 
 
 *Nay, naunt, I shall not be slack,' answered Outram. 
 'But here come folks that I warrant can tell us more 
 on 't.' 
 
 One or two of the female servants, who had fled from 
 the castle during the alarm, now rushed in with various 
 reports of the case ; but all agreeing that a body of armed 
 men were in possession of the castle, and that Major 
 Bridgenorth had taken young Master Julian prisoner, 
 and conveyed him down to Moultrassie Hall, with his 
 feet tied under the belly of the nag — a shameful sight 
 to be seen, and he so well born and so handsome. 
 
 Lance scratched his head ; and though feeling the duty 
 incumbent upon him as a faithful servant, which was in- 
 deed specially dinned into him by the cries and exclama- 
 tions of his aunt, he seemed not a little dubious how to 
 conduct himself. *I would to God, naunt,' he said at 
 last, 'that old Whitaker were alive now, with his long 
 stories about Marston Moor and Edge Hill, that made 
 us all yawn our jaws off their hinges, in spite of broiled 
 rashers and double-beer! When a man is missed, he is 
 moaned, as they say; and I would rather than a broad 
 piece he had been here to have sorted this matter, for it is 
 clean out of my way as a woodsman, that have no skill 
 of war. But dang it, if old Sir Geoffrey go to the wall 
 
 SO
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 without a knock for it! Here you, Nell (speaking to one 
 of the fugitive maidens from the castle) — but no, you 
 have not the heart of a cat, and are afraid of your own 
 shadow by moonlight. But, Cis, you are a stout-hearted 
 wench, and know a buck from a bullfinch. Hark thee, 
 Cis, as you would wish to be married, get up to the 
 castle again, and get thee in — thou best knowest where, 
 for thou hast oft gotten out of postern to a dance, or 
 junketing, to my knowledge. Get thee back to the 
 castle, as ye hope to be married ; see my lady — they 
 cannot hinder thee of that — my lady has a head worth 
 twenty of ours; if I am to gather force, light up the bea- 
 con for a signal, and spare not a tar barrel on't. Thou 
 mayst do it safe enough. I warrant the Roundheads 
 busy with drink and plunder. And, hark thee, say to my 
 lady I am gone down to the miners' houses at Bonad- 
 venture. The rogues were mutinying for their wages 
 but yesterday ; they will be all ready for good or bad. 
 Let her send orders down to me ; or do you come your- 
 self, your legs are long enough.' 
 
 'Whether they are or not. Master Lance — and you 
 know nothing of the matter — they shall do your 
 errand to-night, for love of the old knight and his 
 lady.' 
 
 So Cisly Sellok, a kind of Derbyshire Camilla, who 
 had won the smock at the foot-race at Ashbourne, 
 sprung forward towards the castle, with a speed which 
 few could have equalled. 
 
 'There goes a mettled wench,' said Lance; 'and now, 
 naunt, give me the old broadsword — it is above the 
 bed-head — and my wood-knife; and I shall do well 
 enough.' 
 
 SI
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'And what is to become of me?' bleated the unfortu- 
 nate Mistress Deborah Debbitch. 
 
 ' You must remain here with my aunt, Mistress Deb ; 
 and, for old acquaintance' sake, she will take care no 
 harm befalls you; but take heed how you attempt to 
 break bounds.' 
 
 So saying, and pondering in his own mind the task 
 which he had undertaken, the hardy forester strode down 
 the moonlight glade, scarcely hearing the blessings and 
 cautions which Dame Ellesmere kept showering after 
 him. His thoughts were not altogether warlike. 'What 
 a tight ankle the jade hath! she trips it like a doe in 
 summer over the dew. Well, but here are the huts. Let 
 us to this gear. Are ye all asleep, ye dammers, sinkers, 
 and drift-drivers? Turn out, ye subterranean badgers. 
 Here is your master, Sir Geoffrey, dead, for aught you 
 know or care. Do not you see the beacon is unlit, and 
 you sit there like so many asses? ' 
 
 'Why,' answered one of the miners, who now began to 
 come out of their huts, 
 
 'An he be dead, 
 
 He will eat no more bread.' 
 
 *And you are like to eat none neither,' said Lance; 
 *for the works will be presently stopped, and all of you 
 turned off.' 
 
 'Well, and what of it. Master Lance? As good play 
 for nought as work for nought. Here is four weeks we 
 have scarce seen the colour of Sir Geoffrey's coin; and 
 you ask us to care whether he be dead or in life? For 
 you, that goes about, trotting upon your horse, and do- 
 ing for work what all men do for pleasure, it may be well 
 enough; but it is another matter to be leaving God's 
 
 52
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 light, and burrowing all day and night in darkness, like 
 a toad in a hole — that 's not to be done for nought, 
 I trow; and if Sir Geoffrey is dead, his soul will suffer 
 for't; and if he's alive, we'll have him in the barmoot 
 court.' 
 
 *Hark ye, gaffer,' said Lance, 'and take notice, my 
 mates, all of you,' for a considerable number of these 
 rude and subterranean people had now assembled to 
 hear the discussion — 'Has Sir Goeffrey, think you, ever 
 put a penny in his pouch out of this same Bonadventure 
 mine? ' 
 
 * I cannot say as I think he has,' answered old Ditchley, 
 the party who maintained the controversy. 
 
 'Answer on your conscience, though it be but a leaden 
 one. Do not you know that he hath lost a good penny? ' 
 
 'Why, I believe he may,' said Gaffer Ditchley. ' What 
 then? Lose to-day, win to-morrow; the miner must eat 
 in the meantime.' 
 
 'True; but what will you eat when Master Bridge- 
 north gets the land, that will not hear of a mine being 
 wrought on his own ground? Will he work on at dead 
 loss, think ye? ' demanded trusty Lance. 
 
 'Bridgenorth! — he of Moultrassie Hall, that stopped 
 the great FeHcity work, on which his father laid out, 
 some say, ten thousand pounds, and never got in a 
 penny? Why, what has he to do with Sir Geoffrey's 
 property down here at Bonadventure? It was never 
 his, I trow.' 
 
 'Nay, what do I know?' answered Lance, who saw 
 the impression he had made. 'Law and debt will give 
 him half Derbyshire, I think, imless you stand by old 
 Sir Geoffrey.' 
 
 53
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'But if Sir Geoffrey be dead/ said Ditchley, cautiously, 
 'what good will our standing by do to him?' 
 
 'I did not say he was dead, but only as bad as dead: 
 in the hands of the Roundheads — a prisoner up yonder 
 at his own castle,' said Lance; ' and will have his head cut 
 off, like the good Earl of Derby's, at Bolton-le-Moors.' 
 
 'Nay, then, comrades,' said Gaffer Ditchley, 'an it be 
 as Master Lance says, I think we should bear a hand for 
 stout old Sir Geoffrey, against a low-born, mean-spirited 
 fellow Hke Bridgenorth, who shut up a shaft had cost 
 thousands, without getting a penny profit on 't. So hurra 
 for Sir Geoffrey, and down with the Rump! But hold 
 ye a blink — hold (and the waving of his hand stopped 
 the commencing cheer). Hark ye, Master Lance, it 
 must be all over, for the beacon is as black as night; and 
 you know yourself that marks the lord's death.' 
 
 'It will kindle again in an instant,' said Lance; in- 
 ternally adding, 'I pray to God it may! It will kindle 
 in an instant — lack of fuel, and the confusion of the 
 family ! ' 
 
 'Ay, like enow — like enow,' said Ditchley; 'but I 
 winna budge till I see it blazing.' 
 
 'Why then, there a goes!' said Lance. 'Thank thee, 
 Cis — thank thee, my good wench. Believe your own 
 eyes, my lads, if you will not believe me; and now hurra 
 for Peveril of the Peak — the King and his friends — 
 and down with Rumps and Roundheads ! ' 
 
 The sudden rekindling of the beacon had all the effect 
 which Lance could have desired upon the minds of his 
 rude and ignorant hearers, who, in their superstitious 
 humour, had strongly associated the polar star of Pev- 
 eril with the fortunes of the family. Once moved, ac- 
 
 54
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 cording to the national character of their countrymen, 
 they soon became enthusiastic; and Lance found him- 
 self at the head of thirty stout fellows and upwards, 
 armed with their pick-axes, and ready to execute what- 
 ever task he should impose on them. 
 
 Trusting to enter the castle by the postern, which had 
 served to accommodate himself and other domestics 
 upon an emergency, his only anxiety was to keep his 
 march silent; and he earnestly recommended to his fol- 
 lowers to reserve their shouts for the moment of the at- 
 tack. They had not advanced far on their road to the 
 castle when Cisly Sellok met them, so breathless with 
 haste that the poor girl was obliged to throw herself 
 into Master Lance's arms. 
 
 'Stand up, my mettled wench,' said he, giving her a 
 sly kiss at the same time, 'and let us know what is going 
 on up at the castle.' 
 
 ' My lady bids you, as you would serve God and your 
 master, not to come up to the castle, which can but 
 make bloodshed; for she says Sir Geoffrey is lawfully 
 in hand, and that he must bide the issue; and that he 
 is innocent of what he is charged with, and is going up 
 to speak for himself before King and Council, and she 
 goes up with him. And besides, they have found out the 
 postern, the Roundhead rogues; for two of them saw me 
 when I went out of door, and chased me; but I showed 
 them a fair pair of heels.' 
 
 *As ever dashed dew from the cowslip,' said Lance. 
 *But what the foul fiend is to be done? for if they have 
 secured the postern, I know not' how the dickens we 
 can get in.' 
 
 'All is fastened with bolt and staple, and guarded with 
 
 55
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 gun and pistol, at the castle,' quoth Cisly; 'and so sharp 
 are they, that they nigh caught me coming with my 
 lady's message, as I told you. But my lady says, if you 
 could deliver her son. Master JuUan, from Bridgenorth, 
 that she would hold it good service.' 
 
 'What!' said Lance, 'is yoimg master at the castle? 
 I taught him to shoot his first shaft. But how to get in ! ' 
 
 'He was at the castle in the midst of the ruffle, but 
 old Bridgenorth has carried him down prisoner to the 
 hall,' answered Cisly. 'There was never faith nor cour- 
 tesy in an old Puritan, who never had pipe and tabor 
 in his house since it was built.' 
 
 'Or who stopped a promising mine,' said Ditchley, 
 *to save a few thousand pounds, when he might have 
 made himself as rich as the Lord of Chatsworth, and fed 
 a hundred good fellows all the whilst.' 
 
 'Why, then,' said Lance, 'since you are all of a mind, 
 we will go draw the cover for the old badger; and I 
 promise you that the hall is not like one of your real 
 houses of quality, where the walls are as thick as whin- 
 stone dikes, but fooHsh brickwork, that your pick-axes 
 will work through as if it were cheese. Huzza once more 
 for Peveril of the Peak ! down with Bridgenorth and all 
 upstart cuckoldy Roundheads ! ' 
 
 Having indulged the throats of his followers with one 
 buxom huzza, Lance commanded them to cease their 
 clamours, and proceeded to conduct them, by such paths 
 as seemed the least likely to be watched, to the court- 
 yard of Moultrassie Hall. On the road they were joined 
 by several stout yeomen farmers, either followers of the 
 Peveril family or friends to the High Church and Cava- 
 lier party; most of whom, alarmed by the news which 
 
 56
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 began to fly fast through the neighbourhood, were 
 armed with sword and pistol. 
 
 Lance Outram halted his party, at the distance, as he 
 himself described it, of a flight-shot from the house, and 
 advanced alone, and in silence, to reconnoitre; and hav- 
 ing previously commanded Ditchley and his subterra- 
 nean allies to come to his assistance whenever he should 
 whistle, he crept cautiously forward, and soon found 
 that those whom he came to surprise, true to the dis- 
 cipline which had gained their party such decided su- 
 periority during the Civil War, had posted a sentinel, 
 who paced through the courtyard piously chanting a 
 psalm-tune, while his arms, crossed on his bosom, sup- 
 ported a gun of formidable length. 
 
 'Now, a true soldier,' said Lance Outram to himself, 
 'would put a stop to thy snivelling ditty, by making a 
 broad arrow quiver in your heart, and no great alarm 
 given. But, dang it, I have not the right spirit for a 
 soldier : I cannot fight a man till my blood 's up ; and for 
 shooting him from behind a wall, it is cruelly like to 
 stalking a deer. I '11 e'en face him and try what to make 
 of him.' 
 
 With this doughty resolution, and taking no further 
 care to conceal himself, he entered the courtyard boldly, 
 and was making forward to the front door of the hall, as 
 a matter of course. But the old Cromwellian who was 
 on guard had not so learned his duty. 'Who goes there? 
 Stand, friend — stand; or, verily, I will shoot thee to 
 death ! ' were challenges which followed each other quick, 
 the last being enforced by the levelling and presenting 
 the said long-barrelled gun with which he was armed. 
 
 'Why, what a murrain!' answered Lance. 'Is it your 
 
 57
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 fashion to go a-shooting at this time o' night? Why, this 
 is but a time for bat-fowling.' 
 
 'Nay, but hark thee, friend,' said the experienced 
 sentinel, *I am none of those who do this work negli- 
 gently. Thou canst not snare me with thy crafty speech, 
 though thou wouldst make it to sound simple in mine 
 ear. Of a verity I will shoot, unless thou tell thy name 
 and business.' 
 
 ' Name ! ' said Lance ; ' why, what a dickens should it be 
 but Robin Round — honest Robin of Redham ; and for 
 business, an you must needs know, I come on a message 
 from some Parliament man up yonder at the castle, with 
 letters for worshipful Master Bridgenorth of Moultrassie 
 Hall, and this be the place, as I think; though why ye 
 be marching up and down at his door, like the sign of 
 the Red Man, with your old firelock there, I cannot so 
 well guess.' 
 
 'Give me the letters, my friend,' said the sentinel, to 
 whom this explanation seemed very natural and prob- 
 able, 'and I will cause them forthwith to be delivered 
 into his worship's own hand.' 
 
 Rummaging in his pockets, as if to pull out the letters 
 which never existed. Master Lance approached within 
 the sentinel's piece, and, before he was aware, suddenly 
 seized him by the collar, whistled sharp and shrill, and 
 exerting his skill as a wrestler, for which he had been 
 distinguished in his youth, he stretched his antagonist on 
 his back — the musket for which they struggled going 
 off in the fall. 
 
 The miners rushed into the courtyard at Lance's sig- 
 nal ; and, hopeless any longer of prosecuting his design 
 in silence, Lance commanded two of them to secure the 
 
 58
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 prisoner, and the rest to cheer loudly, and attack the 
 door of the house. Instantly the courtyard of the man- 
 sion rang with the cry of ' Peveril of the Peak for ever ! ' 
 with all the abuse which the RoyaHsts had invented to 
 cast upon the Roundheads during so many years of con- 
 tention; and at the same time, while some assailed the 
 door with their mining implements, others directed their 
 attack against the angle, where a kind of porch joined to 
 the main front of the building ; and there, in some degree 
 protected by the projection of the wall and of a balcony 
 which overhung the porch, wrought in more security, 
 as well as with more effect, than the others; for the doors 
 being of oak, thickly studded with nails, ofifered a more 
 effectual resistance to violence than the brickwork. 
 
 The noise of this hubbub on the outside soon excited 
 wild alarm and tumult within. Lights flew from window 
 to window, and voices were heard demanding the cause 
 of the attack ; to which the party cries of those who were 
 in the courtyard afforded a sufficient, or at least the only, 
 answer, which was vouchsafed. At length the window of 
 a projecting staircase opened, and the voice of Bridge- 
 north himself demanded authoritatively what the tu- 
 mult meant, and commanded the rioters to desist, upon 
 their own proper and immediate peril. 
 
 *We want our young master, you canting old thief,' 
 was the reply; 'and if we have him not instantly, the 
 topmost stone of your house shall lie as low as the 
 foundation ! ' 
 
 *We will try that presently,' said Bridgenorth; 'for if 
 there is another blow struck against the walls of my 
 peaceful house, I will fire my carabine among you, and 
 your blood be upon your own head. I have a score of 
 
 59
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 friends, well armed with musket and pistol, to defend 
 my house ; and we have both the means and heart, with 
 Heaven's assistance, to repay any violence you can 
 offer.' 
 
 'Master Bridgenorth,' replied Lance, who, though no 
 soldier, was sportsman enough to comprehend the ad- 
 vantage which those imder cover, and using firearms, 
 must necessarily have over his party, exposed to their 
 aim, in a great measure, and without means of answering 
 their fire — * Master Bridgenorth, let us crave parley 
 with you, and fair conditions. We desire to do you no 
 evil, but will have back our young master; it is enough 
 that you have got our old one and his lady. It is foul 
 chasing, to kill hart, hind, and fawn; and we will give 
 you some light on the subject in an instant.' 
 
 This speech was followed by a great crash amongst 
 the lower windows of the house, according to a new 
 species of attack which had been suggested by some of 
 the assailants. 
 
 *I would take the honest fellow's word, and let young 
 Peveril go,' said one of the garrison, who, carelessly 
 yawning, approached on the inside the post at which 
 Bridgenorth had stationed himself. 
 
 'Are you mad?' said Bridgenorth; 'or do you think 
 me poor enough in spirit to give up the advantages I now 
 possess over the family of Peveril for the awe of a parcel 
 of boors, whom the first discharge will scatter like chaff 
 before the whirlwind? ' 
 
 'Nay,' answered the speaker, who was the same indi- 
 vidual that had struck Julian by his resemblance to the 
 man who called himself Ganlesse, ' I love a dire revenge, 
 but we shall buy it somewhat too dear if these rascals set 
 
 60
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the house on fire, as they are like to do, while you are 
 parleying from the window. They have thrown torches 
 or firebrands into the hall; and it is all our friends can 
 do to keep the flame from catching the wainscoting, 
 which is old and dry.' 
 
 'Now, may Heaven judge thee for thy lightness of 
 spirit,' answered Bridgenorth; 'one would think mis- 
 chief was so properly thy element that to thee it was 
 indifferent whether friend or foe was the sufferer.' 
 
 So saying, he ran hastily downstairs towards the hall, 
 into which, through broken casements, and betwixt the 
 iron bars, which prevented human entrance, the assail- 
 ants had thrust Hghted straw, sufficient to excite much 
 smoke and some fire, and to throw the defenders of the 
 house into great confusion; insomuch, that of several 
 shots fired hastily from the windows little or no damage 
 followed to the besiegers, who, getting warm in the 
 onset, answered the hostile charges with loud shouts of 
 'Peveril for ever!' and had already made a practicable 
 breach through the brick wall of the tenement, through 
 which Lance, Ditchley, and several of the most adven- 
 turous among their followers, made their way into the 
 hall. 
 
 The complete capture of the house remained, however, 
 as far off as ever. The defenders mixed with much cool- 
 ness and skill that solemn and deep spirit of enthusiasm 
 which sets life at less than nothing in comparison to real 
 or supposed duty. From the half -opened doors which led 
 into the hall, they maintained a fire which began to grow 
 fatal. One miner was shot dead; three or four were 
 wounded; and Lance scarce knew whether he should 
 draw his forces from the house and leave it a prey to the 
 
 61
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 flames, or, making a desperate attack on the posts occu- 
 pied by the defenders, try to obtain immolested posses- 
 sion of the place. At this moment his course of conduct 
 was determined by an unexpected occurrence, of which 
 it is necessary to trace the cause. 
 
 Julian Peveril had been, like other inhabitants of Moul- 
 trassie Hall on that momentous night, awakened by the 
 report of the sentinel's musket, followed by the shouts of 
 his father's vassals and followers; of which he collected 
 enough to guess that Bridgenorth's house was attacked 
 with a view to his Hberation. Very doubtful of the issue 
 of such an attempt, dizzy with the slumber from which 
 he had been so suddenly awakened, and confounded 
 with the rapid succession of events to which he had been 
 lately a witness, he speedily put on a part of his clothes 
 and hastened to the window of his apartment. From this 
 he could see nothing to relieve his anxiety, for it looked 
 towards a quarter different from that on which the at- 
 tack was made. He attempted his door; it was locked 
 on the outside ; and his perplexity and anxiety became 
 extreme, when suddenly the lock was turned, and in 
 an imdress hastily assumed in the moment of alarm, 
 her hair streaming on her shoulders, her eyes gleaming 
 betwixt fear and resolution, Ahce Bridgenorth rushed 
 into his apartment, and seized his hand with the fer- 
 vent exclamation, 'JuHan, save my father!' 
 
 The light which she bore in her hand served to show 
 those features which could rarely have been viewed by 
 any one without emotion, but which bore an expression 
 irresistible to a lover. 
 
 'Alice,' he said, 'what means this? What is the dan- 
 ger? Where is your father? ' 
 
 62
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Do not stay to question,' she answered; 'but if you 
 would save him, follow me!' 
 
 At the same time she led the way, with great speed, 
 halfway down the turret staircase which led to his room, 
 thence turning through a side door, along a long gallery, 
 to a larger and wider stair, at the bottom of which stood 
 her father, surrounded by four or five of his friends, 
 scarce discernible through the smoke of the fire which 
 began to take hold in the hall, as well as that which arose 
 from the repeated discharge of their own firearms. 
 
 Julian saw there was not a moment to be lost, if he 
 meant to be a successful mediator. He rushed through 
 Bridgenorth's party ere they were aware of his approach, 
 and throwing himself amongst the assailants, who occu- 
 pied the hall in considerable numbers, he assured them 
 of his personal safety, and conjured them to depart. 
 
 'Not without a few more slices at the Rump, master,' 
 answered Lance. ' I am principally glad to see you safe 
 and well; but here is Joe Rimegap shot as dead as 
 a buck in season, and more of us are hurt; and we'll 
 have revenge, and roast the Puritans like apples for 
 lambswool ' ! 
 
 ' Then you shall roast me along with them,' said Julian ; 
 'for I vow to God, I will not leave the hall, being bound 
 by parole of honour to abide with Major Bridgenorth till 
 lawfully dismissed.' 
 
 'Now out on you, an you were ten times a Peveril!' 
 said Ditchley; 'to give so many honest fellows loss and 
 labour on your behalf, and to show them no kinder coun- 
 tenance. I say, beat up the fire and burn all together!' 
 
 'Nay — nay; but peace, my masters, and hearken to 
 reason,' said JuHan; 'we are all here in evil condition, 
 
 63
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and you will only make it worse by contention. Do you 
 help to put out this same fire, which will else cost us all 
 dear. Keep yourselves under arms. Let Master Bridge- 
 north and me settle some grounds of accommodation, 
 and I trust all will be favourably made up on both sides; 
 and if not, you shall have my consent and countenance 
 to fight it out; and come on it what will, I will never for- 
 get this night's good service.' 
 
 He then drew Ditchley and Lance Outram aside, while 
 the rest stood suspended at his appearance and words, 
 and expressing the utmost thanks and gratitude for 
 what they had already done, urged them, as the greatest 
 favour which they could do towards him and his father's 
 house, to permit him to negotiate the terms of his eman- 
 cipation from thraldom; at the same time forcing on 
 Ditchley five or six gold pieces, that the brave lads of 
 Bonadventure might drink his health; whilst to Lance he 
 expressed the warmest sense of his active kindness, but 
 protested he could only consider it as good service to his 
 house if he was allowed to manage the matter after his 
 own fashion. 
 
 'Why,' answered Lance, *I am well out on it, Master 
 Julian ; for it is matter beyond my mastery. All that I 
 stand to is, that I will see you safe out of this same Moul- 
 trassie Hall; for our old naunt Ellesmere will else give 
 me but cold comfort when I come home. Truth is, I 
 began unwillingly; but when I saw the poor fellow Joe 
 shot beside me, why, I thought we should have some 
 amends. But I put it all in your honour's hands.' 
 
 During this colloquy both parties had been amicably 
 employed in extinguishing the fire, which might other- 
 wise have been fatal to all. It required a general effort 
 
 64
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 to get it under; and both parties agreed on the necessary 
 labour with as much unanimity as if the water they 
 brought in leathern buckets from the well to throw upon 
 the fire had had some effect in slaking their mutual 
 hostility. 
 
 28
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Necessity, thou best of peacemakers, 
 As well as surest prompter of invention. 
 Help us to composition I ^ 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 While the fire continued, the two parties laboured in 
 active union, like the jarring factions of the Jews during 
 the siege of Jerusalem, when compelled to unite in resist- 
 ing an assault of the besiegers. But when the last bucket 
 of water had hissed on the few embers that continued to 
 glimmer; when the sense of mutual hostility, hitherto 
 suspended by a feeling of common danger, was in its 
 turn rekindled, the parties, mingled as they had hitherto 
 been in one common exertion, drew off from each other, 
 and began to arrange themselves at opposite sides of the 
 hall, and handle their weapons, as if for a renewal of the 
 fight. 
 
 Bridgenorth interrupted any further progress of this 
 menaced hostility. 'JuHan Peveril,' he said, *thou art 
 free to walk thine own path, since thou wilt not walk 
 with me that road which is more safe, as well as more 
 honourable. But if you do by my counsel, you will get 
 soon beyond the British seas.' 
 
 'Ralph Bridgenorth,' said one of his friends, 'this is 
 but evil and feeble conduct on thine own part. Wilt thou 
 withhold thy hand from the battle, to defend, from these 
 sons of Belial, the captive of thy bow and of thy spear? 
 Surely we are enow to deal with them in the security of 
 our good old cause; nor should we part with this spawn 
 
 66
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 of the old serpent until we essay whether the Lord will 
 not give us victory therein.' 
 
 A hum of stern assent followed ; and had not Ganlesse 
 now interfered, the combat would probably have been 
 renewed. He took the advocate for war apart into one 
 of the window recesses, and apparently satisfied his 
 objections; for as he returned to his companions, he said 
 to them, 'Our friend hath so well argued this matter 
 that, verily, since he is of the same mind with the worthy 
 Major Bridgenorth, I think the youth may be set at 
 liberty.' 
 
 As no further objection was offered, it only remained 
 with Julian to thank and reward those who had been 
 active in his assistance. Having first obtained from 
 Bridgenorth a promise of indemnity to them for the riot 
 they had committed, a few kind words conveyed his 
 sense of their services; and some broad pieces, thrust 
 into the hand of Lance Outram, furnished the means for 
 affording them a holy day. They would have remained 
 to protect him; but, fearful of further disorder, and 
 relying entirely on the good faith of Major Bridgenorth, 
 he dismissed them all excepting Lance, whom he de- 
 tained to attend upon him for a few minutes, till he 
 should depart from Moultrassie. But, ere leaving the 
 hall, he could not repress his desire to speak with Bridge- 
 north in secret; and advancing towards him, he expressed 
 such a desire. 
 
 Tacitly granting what was asked of him, Bridgenorth 
 led the way to a small summer saloon adjoining to the 
 hall, where, with his usual gravity and indifference of 
 manner, he seemed to await in silence what Peveril had 
 to communicate. 
 
 67
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Julian found it difficult, where so little opening was 
 afforded him, to find a tone in which to open the sub- 
 jects he had at heart, that should be at once dignified 
 and conciliating. * Major Bridgenorth,' he said at length, 
 'you have been a son, and an affectionate one. You may 
 conceive my present anxiety. My father! What has 
 been designed for him?' 
 
 'What the law will,' answered Bridgenorth. 'Had he 
 walked by the counsels which I procured to be given to 
 him, he might have dwelt safely in the house of his an- 
 cestors. His fate is now beyond my control — far beyond 
 yours. It must be with him as his country shaU decide.' 
 'And my mother?' said Peveril. 
 'Will consult, as she has ever done, her own duty; and 
 create her own happiness by doing so,' replied Bridge- 
 north, 'Believe, my designs towards your family are 
 better than they may seem through the mist which ad- 
 versity has spread around your house. I may triumph 
 as a man; but as a man I must also remember, in my 
 hour, that mine enemies have had theirs. Have you 
 aught else to say? ' he added, after a momentary pause. 
 *You have rejected once, yea and again, the hand I 
 stretched out to you. Methinks little more remains be- 
 tween us.' 
 
 These words, which seemed to cut short further dis- 
 cussion, were calmly spoken; so that, though they ap- 
 peared to discourage further question, they could not 
 interrupt that which still trembled on Julian's tongue. 
 He made a step or two towards the door; then suddenly 
 returned. 'Your daughter!' he said — 'Major Bridge- 
 north — I should ask — 1 do ask forgiveness for men- 
 tioning her name — but may I not inquire after her? 
 
 68
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 May I not express my wishes for her future hap- 
 piness? ' 
 
 'Your interest in her is but too flattering,' said Bridge- 
 north; 'but you have already chosen your part; and you 
 must be, in future, strangers to each other. I may have 
 wished it otherwise, but the hour of grace is passed, 
 during which your comphance with my advice might — 
 I will speak it plainly — have led to your union. For 
 her happiness — if such a word belongs to a mortal pil- 
 grimage — I shall care for it sufficiently. She leaves this 
 place to-day, under the guardianship of a sure friend.' 
 
 'Not of — ' exclaimed Peveril, and stopped short; for 
 he felt he had no right to pronounce the name which 
 came to his lips. 
 
 'Why do you pause?' said Bridgenorth; 'a sudden 
 thought is often a wise, almost always an honest, one. 
 With whom did you suppose I meant to entrust my 
 child, that the idea called forth so anxious an expres- 
 sion? ' 
 
 'Again I should ask your forgiveness,' said Julian, 
 'for meddling where I have little right to interfere. 
 But I saw a face here that is known to me; the person 
 calls himself Ganlesse. Is it with him that you mean to 
 entrust your daughter? ' 
 
 'Even to the person who calls himself Ganlesse,' said 
 Bridgenorth, without expressing either anger or sur- 
 prise. 
 
 'And do you know to whom you commit a charge so 
 precious to all who know her and so dear to yourself?' 
 said Julian. 
 
 'Do you know, who ask me the question?' answered 
 Bridgenorth. 
 
 69
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *I own I do not,' answered Julian; 'but I have seen 
 him in a character so different from what he now wears, 
 that I feel it my duty to warn you how you entrust the 
 charge of your child to one who can alternately play 
 the profligate or the hypocrite, as it suits his own inter- 
 est or humour.' 
 
 Bridgenorth smiled contemptuously. 'I might be 
 angry,' he said, 'with the ofiScious zeal which supposes 
 that its green conceptions can instruct my grey hairs; 
 but, good JuHan, I do but only ask from you the liberal 
 construction that I, who have had much converse with 
 mankind, know with whom I trust what is dearest to me. 
 He of whom thou speakest hath one visage to his friends, 
 though he may have others to the world, living amongst 
 those before whom honest features should be concealed 
 under a grotesque vizard ; even as in the sinful sports of 
 the day, called maskings and mummeries, where the 
 wise, if he show himself at all, must be contented to 
 play the apish and fantastic fool.' 
 
 'I would only pray your wisdom to beware,' said 
 Julian, 'of one who, as he has a vizard for others, may 
 also have one which can disguise his real features from 
 you yourself.' 
 
 ' This is being over careful, young man,' replied Bridge- 
 north, more shortly than he had hitherto spoken; 'if you 
 would walk by my counsel, you will attend to your own 
 affairs, which, credit me, deserve all your care, and leave 
 others to the management of theirs.' 
 
 This was too plain to be misunderstood ; and Peveril 
 was compelled to take his leave of Bridgenorth and of 
 Moultrassie Hall without further parley or explanation. 
 The reader may imagine how oft he looked back, and 
 
 70
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 tried to guess, amongst the lights which continued to 
 twinkle in various parts of the building, which sparkle 
 it was that gleamed from the bower of Alice. When the 
 road turned into another direction, he sunk into a deep 
 reverie, from which he was at length roused by the voice 
 of Lance, who demanded where he intended to quarter 
 for the night. He was unprepared to answer the ques- 
 tion; but the honest keeper himself prompted a solution 
 of the problem, by requesting that he would occupy a 
 spare bed in the lodge, to which Julian wilHngly agreed. 
 The rest of the inhabitants had retired to rest when they 
 entered; but Dame Ellesmere, apprised by a messenger 
 of her nephew's hospitable intent, had everything in 
 the best readiness she could for the son of her ancient 
 patron. Peveril betook himself to rest; and, notwith- 
 standing so many subjects of anxiety, slept soundly till 
 the morning was far advanced. 
 
 His slumbers were first broken by Lance, who had been 
 long up, and already active in his service. He informed 
 him that his horse, arms, and small cloak-bag had been 
 sent from the castle by one of Major Bridgenorth's 
 servants, who brought a letter, discharging from the ma- 
 jor's service the unfortunate Deborah Debbitch, and 
 prohibiting her return to the hall. The officer of the 
 House of Commons, escorted by a strong guard, had 
 left Martindale Castle that morning early, travelling 
 in Sir Geoffrey's carriage — his lady being also permitted 
 to attend on him. To this he had to add, that the pro- 
 perty at the castle was taken possession of by Master 
 Win-the-Fight, the attorney, from Chesterfield, with 
 other officers of law, in name of Major Bridgenorth, a 
 large creditor of the unfortunate knight. 
 
 71
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Having told these Job's tidings, Lance paused; and, 
 after a moment's hesitation, declared he was resolved to 
 quit the country and go up to London along with his 
 young master. JuHan argued the point with him; and 
 insisted he had better stay to take charge of his aunt, 
 in case she should be disturbed by these strangers. 
 Lance replied, 'She would have one with her who 
 would protect her well enough; for there was where- 
 withal to buy protection amongst them. But for him- 
 self, he was resolved to follow Master Julian to the 
 death.' 
 
 Julian heartily thanked him for his love. 
 
 'Nay, it is not altogether out of love neither,' said 
 Lance, 'though I am as loving as another; but it is, as 
 it were, partly out of fear, lest I be called over the coals 
 for last night's matter; for as for the miners, they will 
 never trouble them, as the creatures only act after their 
 kind.' 
 
 'I will write in your behalf to Major Bridgenorth, 
 who is bound to afford you protection, if you have such 
 fear,' said Julian. 
 
 'Nay, for that matter, it is not altogether fear, more 
 than altogether love,' answered the enigmatical keeper; 
 * although it hath a tasting of both in it. And, to speak 
 plain truth, thus it is — Dame Debbitch and Naunt 
 Ellesmere have resolved to set up their horses to- 
 gether, and have made up all their quarrels. And of all 
 ghosts in the world, the worst is, when an old true-love 
 comes back to haunt a poor fellow like me. Mistress 
 Deborah, though distressed enow for the loss of her 
 place, has been already speaking of a broken sixpence, 
 or some such token, as if a man could remember such 
 
 72
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 things for so many years, even if she had not gone over 
 seas, like a woodcock, in the meanwhile.' 
 
 Julian could scarce forbear laughing. * I thought you 
 too much of a man, Lance, to fear a woman marrying 
 you whether you would or no.' 
 
 'It has been many an honest man's luck, for all that,' 
 said Lance; 'and a woman in the very house has so 
 many deuced opportunities. And then there would be 
 two upon one ; for naunt, though high enough when any 
 of your folks are concerned, hath some look to the main 
 chance; and it seems Mistress Deb is as rich as a Jew.' 
 
 'And you, Lance,' said Julian, 'have no mind to marry 
 for cake and pudding?' 
 
 'No, truly, master,' answered Lance, 'unless I knew 
 of what dough they were baked. How the devil do I 
 know how the jade came by so much? And then if she 
 speaks of tokens and love-passages, let her be the same 
 tight lass I broke the sixpence with, and I will be the 
 same true lad to her. But I never heard of true love 
 lasting ten years; and hers, if it lives at all, must be 
 nearer twenty.' 
 
 'Well, then. Lance,' said Julian, 'since you are re- 
 solved on the thing, we will go to London together; 
 where, if I cannot retain you in my service, and if my 
 father recovers not these misfortunes, I will endeavour 
 to promote you elsewhere.' 
 
 'Nay — nay,' said Lance, 'I trust to be back to bonny 
 Martlndale before it is long, and to keep the greenwood, 
 as I have been wont to do; for, as to Dame Debbitch, 
 when they have not me for their common butt, naunt 
 and she will soon bend bows on each other. So here 
 comes old Dame EUesmere with your breakfast. I will 
 
 73
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 but give some directions about the deer to Rough Ralph, 
 my helper, and saddle my forest pony, and your honour's 
 horse, which is no prime one, and we will be ready to 
 trot.' 
 
 Julian was not sorry for this addition to his establish- 
 ment; for Lance had shown himself, on the preceding 
 evening, a shrewd and bold fellow, and attached to his 
 master. He therefore set himself to reconcile his aunt to 
 parting with her nephew for some time. Her unHmited 
 devotion for 'the family' readily induced the old lady 
 to acquiesce in his proposal, though not without a gentle 
 sigh over the ruins of a castle in the air, which was 
 founded on the well-saved purse of Mistress Deborah 
 Debbitch. *At any rate,' she thought, 'it was as well 
 that Lance should be out of the way of that bold, long- 
 legged, beggarly trollop, Cis Sellok.' But to poor Deb 
 herself, the expatriation of Lance, whom she had looked 
 to as a sailor to a port under his lee, for which he can run 
 if weather becomes foul, was a second severe blow, fol- 
 lowing close on her dismissal from the profitable service 
 of Major Bridgenorth. 
 
 Julian visited the disconsolate damsel, in hopes of 
 gaining some light upon Bridgenorth's projects regard- 
 ing his daughter, the character of this Ganlesse, and 
 other matters, with which her residence in the family 
 might have made her acquainted; but he found her by 
 far too much troubled in mind to afford him the least 
 information. The name of Ganlesse she did not seem 
 to recollect, that of Alice rendered her hysterical, that 
 of Bridgenorth furious. She numbered up the various 
 services she had rendered in the family; and denounced 
 the plague of swartness to the linen, of leanness to the 
 
 74
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 poultry, of dearth and dishonour to the housekeeping, 
 and of lingering sickness and early death to Alice — all 
 which evils, she averred, had only been kept off by her 
 continued, watchful, and incessant cares. Then again 
 turning to the subject of the fugitive Lance, she ex- 
 pressed such a total contempt of that mean-spirited 
 fellow, in a tone between laughing and crying, as satis- 
 fied Julian it was not a topic likely to act as a sedative; 
 and that, therefore, unless he made a longer stay than 
 the urgent state of his affairs permitted, he was not 
 likely to find Mistress Deborah in such a state of 
 composure as might enable him to obtain from her any 
 rational or useful information. 
 
 Lance, who good-naturedly took upon himself the 
 whole burden of Dame Debbitch's mental alienation, 
 or ' taking on,' as such fits of passio hysterica are usually 
 termed in the country, had too much feeling to present 
 himself before the victim of her own sensibility and 
 of his obduracy. He therefore intimated to Julian, 
 by his assistant Ralph, that the horses stood saddled 
 behind the lodge, and that all was ready for their de- 
 parture. 
 
 Julian took the hint, and they were soon mounted, 
 and clearing the road at a rapid trot in the direction of 
 London; but not by the most usual route. Julian calcu- 
 lated that the carriage in which his father was trans- 
 ported would travel slowly; and it was his purpose, if 
 possible, to get to London before it should arrive there, 
 in order to have time to consult with the friends of his 
 family what measures should be taken in his father's 
 behalf. 
 
 In this manner, they advanced a day's journey to- 
 
 75
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 wards London; at the conclusion of which, Julian found 
 his resting-place in a small inn upon the road. No one 
 came, at the first call, to attend upon the guests and 
 their horses, although the house was well lighted up; and 
 there was a prodigious chattering in the kitchen, such as 
 can only be produced by a French cook, when his mys- 
 tery is in the very moment of projection. It instantly 
 occurred to Julian — so rare was the ministry of these 
 Gallic artists at that time — that the clamour he heard 
 must necessarily be produced by the Sieur Chaubert, on 
 whose plats he had lately feasted, along with Smith and 
 Ganlesse. 
 
 One or both of these were therefore probably in the 
 little inn ; and if so, he might have some opportunity to 
 discover their real purpose and character. How to avail 
 himself of such a meeting he knew not; but chance 
 favoured him more than he could have expected. 
 
 'I can scarce receive you, gentlefolks,' said the land- 
 lord, who at length appeared at the door; 'here be a 
 sort of quality in my house to-night whom less than all 
 will not satisfy; nor all neither, for that matter.' 
 
 'We are but plain fellows, landlord,' said Julian; 'we 
 are bound for Moseley market, and can get no farther 
 to-night. Any hole will serve us, no matter what.' 
 
 'Why,' said the honest host, 'if that be the case, I 
 must e'en put one of you behind the bar, though the 
 gentlemen have desired to be private; the other must 
 take heart of grace, and help me at the tap.' 
 
 'The tap for me,' said Lance, without waiting his 
 master's decision. 'It is an element which I could live 
 and die in.' 
 
 ' The bar, then, for me,' said Peveril; and stepping 
 
 76
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 back, whispered to Lance to exchange cloaks with him, 
 desirous, if possible, to avoid being recognized. 
 
 The exchange was made in an instant; and presently 
 afterwards the landlord brought a light; and as he guided 
 Julian into his hostelry, cautioned him to sit quiet in the 
 place where he should stow him; and if he was discovered, 
 to say that he was one of the house, and leave him to 
 make it good. 'You will hear what the gallants say,' he 
 added; 'but I think thou wilt carry away but little on it; 
 for when it is not French it is court gibberish, and that 
 is as hard to construe.' 
 
 The bar, into which our hero was inducted on these 
 conditions, seemed formed, with respect to the public 
 room, upon the principle of a citadel, intended to ob- 
 serve and bridle a rebellious capital. Here sat the host 
 on the Saturday evenings, screened from the observation 
 of his guests, yet with the power of observing both their 
 wants and their behaviour, and also that of overhearing 
 their conversation — a practice which he was much 
 addicted to, being one of that numerous class of phi- 
 lanthropists to whom their neighbours' business is of as 
 much consequence, or rather more, than their own. 
 
 Here he planted his new guest, with a repeated caution 
 not to disturb the gentlemen by speech or motion; and 
 a promise that he should be speedily supplied with a cold 
 buttock of beef and a tankard of home-brewed. And 
 here he left him with no other light than that which 
 glimmered from the well-illuminated apartment within, 
 through a sort of shuttle which accommodated the land- 
 lord with a view into it. 
 
 This situation, inconvenient enough in itself, was, on 
 the present occasion, precisely what Juhan would have 
 
 77
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 selected. He wrapped himself in the weather-beaten 
 cloak of Lance Outram, which had been stained, by age 
 and climate, into a thousand variations of its original 
 Lincoln green; and, with as little noise as he could, set 
 himself to observe the two inmates, who had engrossed 
 to themselves the whole of the apartment, which was 
 usually open to the public. They sat by a table, well 
 covered with such costly rarities as could only have been 
 procured by much forecast, and prepared by the exqui- 
 site Mons. Chaubert; to which both seemed to do much 
 justice. 
 
 Julian had little difficulty in ascertaining that one of 
 the travellers was, as he had anticipated, the master of 
 the said Chaubert, or, as he was called by Ganlesse, 
 Smith; the other, who faced him, he had never seen be- 
 fore. This last was dressed like a gallant of the first or- 
 der. His periwig, indeed, as he travelled on horseback, 
 did not much exceed in size the bar-wig of a modern 
 lawyer; but then the essence which he shook from it 
 with every motion impregnated a whole apartment 
 which was usually only perfumed by that vulgar herb, 
 tobacco. His riding-coat was laced in the newest and 
 most courtly style; and Grammont himself might have 
 envied the embroidery of his waistcoat, and the peculiar 
 cut of his breeches, which buttoned above the knee, per- 
 mitting the shape of a very handsome leg to be completely 
 seen. This, by the proprietor thereof, had been stretched 
 out upon a stool, and he contemplated its proportions, 
 from time to time, with infinite satisfaction. 
 
 The conversation between these worthies was so in- 
 teresting, that we propose to assign to it another chap- 
 ter.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 This is some creature of the elements, 
 Most like your sea-gull. He can wheel and whistle 
 His screaming song e'en when the storm is loudest, 
 Take for his sheeted couch the restless foam 
 Of the wild wave-crest, slumber in the calm, 
 And dally with the storm. Yet 't is a gull. 
 An arrant gull, with all this. 
 
 The Chieftain. 
 
 *And here is to thee/ said the fashionable gallant whom 
 we have described, 'honest Tom; and a cup of welcome 
 to thee out of Looby-land. Why, thou hast been so long 
 in the country, that thou hast got a bumpkinly clod- 
 compelling sort of look thyself. That greasy doublet 
 fits thee as if it were thine reserved Sunday's apparel; 
 and the points seem as if they were stay-laces bought for 
 thy true-love Marjory. I marvel thou canst still relish 
 a ragout. Methinks now, to a stomach bound in such a 
 jacket, eggs and bacon were a diet more conforming.' 
 
 'Rally away, my good lord, while wit lasts,' answered 
 his companion; 'yours is not the sort of ammunition 
 which will bear much expenditure. Or rather, tell me 
 news from court, since we have met so opportunely.' 
 
 'You would have asked me these an hour ago,' said 
 the lord, 'had not your very soul been under Chaubert's 
 covered dishes. You remembered king's affairs will keep 
 cool, and entremets must be eaten hot.' 
 
 'Not so, my lord; I only kept common talk whilst that 
 eavesdropping rascal of a landlord was in the room; so 
 that, now the coast is clear once more, I pray you for 
 news from court.' 
 
 79
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'The Plot is nonsuited,' answered the courtier, 'Sir 
 George Wakeman acquitted,^ the witnesses discredited 
 by the jury; Scroggs,who ranted on one side, is now rant- 
 ing on t'other.' 
 
 'Rat the Plot, Wakeman, witnesses, Papists, and 
 Protestants all together! Do you think I care for such 
 trash as that? Till the Plot comes up the palace back- 
 stair and gets possession of Old Rowley's own imagina- 
 tion, I care not a farthing who believes or disbelieves. I 
 hang by him will bear me out.' 
 
 'Well, then,' said my lord, 'the next news is Roches- 
 ter's disgrace.' 
 
 ' Disgraced ! How, and for what? The morning I came 
 off he stood as fair as any one.' 
 
 'That 's over — the epitaph ^ has broken his neck; 
 and now he may write one for his own court favour, for 
 it is dead and buried.' 
 
 ' The epitaph ! ' exclaimed Tom. ' Why, I was by when 
 it was made; and it passed for an excellent good jest 
 with him whom it was made upon.' 
 
 'Ay, so it did among ourselves,' answered his com- 
 panion; 'but it got abroad, and had a run like a mill- 
 race. It was in every coffee-house and in half the diur- 
 nals. Grammont translated it into French too ; and there 
 is no laughing at so sharp a jest, when it is dinned into 
 your ears on all sides. So, disgraced is the author; and 
 but for his Grace of Buckingham, the court would be as 
 dull as my Lord Chancellor's wig.' 
 
 'Or as the head it covers. Well, my lord, the fewer at 
 court, there is the more room for those that can bustle 
 there. But there are two main-strings of Shaftesbury's 
 
 ' See Note i. * See Note 2. 
 
 80
 
 PEVEREL OF THE PEAK 
 
 fiddle broken — the Popish Plot fallen into discredit, and 
 Rochester disgraced. Changeful times; but here is to 
 the little man who shall mend them.' 
 
 *I apprehend you,' replied his lordship; 'and meet 
 your health with my love. Trust me, my lord loves you 
 and longs for you. Nay, I have done you reason. By 
 your leave, the cup is with me. Here is to his buxom 
 Grace of Bucks.' 
 
 *As blythe a peer,' said Smith, 'as ever turned night 
 to day. Nay, it shall be an overflowing bumper, an you 
 will ; and I will drink it super naculum. And how stands 
 the great Madam? ' ^ 
 
 'Stoutly against all change,' answered my lord. 
 'Little Anthony ^ can make nought of her.' 
 
 'Then he shall bring her influence to nought. Hark 
 in thine ear. Thou knowest — ' here he whispered so low 
 that Julian could not catch the sound. 
 
 'Know him?' answered the other — 'know Ned of 
 the Island? To be sure I do.' 
 
 'He is the man that shall knot the great fiddle-strings 
 that have snapped. Say I told you so; and thereupon I 
 give thee his health.' 
 
 'And thereupon I pledge thee,' said the young noble- 
 man, 'which on any other argument I were loth to do, 
 thinking of Ned as somewhat the cut of a villain.' 
 
 'Granted, man — granted,' said the other, 'a very 
 thorough-paced rascal, but able, my lord — able and 
 necessary, and in this plan indispensable. Pshaw! This 
 champagne turns stronger as it gets older, I think.' 
 
 'Hark, mine honest fellow,' said the courtier; 'I would 
 
 ' See Note 3 . 
 
 ^ Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, the politician and 
 intriguer of the period. 
 
 88 81
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 thou wouldst give me some item of all this mystery. 
 Thou hast it, I know; for whom do men entrust but 
 trusty ChiflSnch?' 
 
 'It is your pleasure to say so, my lord,' answered 
 Smith (whom we shall hereafter call by his real name of 
 Chiffinch), with much drunken gravity, for his speech 
 had become a little altered by his copious libations in the 
 course of the evening; 'few men know more, or say less, 
 than I do; and it well becomes my station. Conticuere 
 omnes, as the grammar hath it: all men should learn 
 to hold their tongue.' 
 
 * Except with a friend, Tom — except with a friend. 
 Thou wilt never be such a dog-bolt as to refuse a hint to 
 a friend? Come, you get too wise and statesmanlike for 
 your office. The ligatures of thy most peasantly jacket 
 there are like to burst with thy secret. Come, undo a 
 button, man ; it is for the health of thy constitution. Let 
 out a reef; and let thy chosen friend know what is medi- 
 tating. Thou knowest I am as true as thyself to little 
 Anthony, if he can but get uppermost.' 
 
 '//, thou lordly infidel ! ' said Chifiinch; 'talk'st thou 
 to me of ifs ? There is neither if nor and in the matter. 
 The great Madam shall be pulled a peg down — the 
 great Plot screwed a peg or two up. Thou knowest Ned? 
 Honest Ned had a brother's death to revenge.' 
 
 *I have heard so,' said the nobleman; 'and that his 
 persevering resentment of that injury was one of the few 
 points which seemed to be a sort of heathenish virtue in 
 him.' 
 
 'Well,' continued Chiffinch, 'in manoeuvring to bring 
 about this revenge, which he hath laboured at many a 
 day, he hath discovered a treasure.' 
 
 82
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'What! In the Isle of Man?' said his companion. 
 
 'Assure yourself of it. She is a creature so lovely, that 
 she needs but be seen to put down every one of the 
 favourites, from Portsmouth and Cleveland down to 
 that three-penny baggage. Mistress Nelly.' 
 
 'By my word, Chiffinch,' said my lord, 'that is a re- 
 inforcement after the fashion of thine own best tactics. 
 But bethink thee, man! To make such a conquest, there 
 wants more than a cherry cheek and a bright eye: there 
 must be wit — wit, man, and manners, and a little sense 
 besides, to keep influence when it is gotten.' 
 
 'Pshaw! will you tell me what goes to this vocation?* 
 said Chiffinch, 'Here, pledge me her health in a brimmer. 
 Nay, you shall do it on knees, too. Never such a triumph- 
 ant beauty was seen. I went to church on purpose, for 
 the first time these ten years. Yet I lie, it was not to 
 church neither — it was to chapel.' 
 
 'To chapel! What the devil, is she a Puritan?' ex- 
 claimed the other courtier. 
 
 'To be sure she is. Do you think I would be accessory 
 to bringing a Papist into favour in these times, when, as 
 my good lord said in the House, there should not be a 
 Popish man-servant, nor a Popish maid-servant, not so 
 much as dog or cat, left to bark or mew about the 
 Kingl'i 
 
 'But consider, ChiflEie, the dislikelihood of her pleas- 
 ing,' said the noble courtier. 'What! Old Rowley, with 
 his wit and love of wit, his wildness and love of wildness 
 — he form a league with a silly, scrupulous, unidea'd 
 Puritan! Not if she were Venus.' 
 
 'Thou knowest nought of the matter,' answered 
 
 ^ Such was the extravagance of Shaftesbury's eloquence. 
 83
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Chiffinch. 'I tell thee, the fine contrast between the 
 seeming saint and falling sinner will give zest to the old 
 gentleman's inclinations. If I do not know him, who 
 does? Her health, my lord, on your bare knee, as you 
 would live to be of the bed-chamber!' 
 
 *I pledge you most devoutly,' answered his friend. 
 'But you have not told me how the acquaintance is to be 
 made; for you cannot, I think, carry her to Whitehall.' 
 
 'Aha, my dear lord, you would have the whole secret! 
 but that I cannot afford. I can spare a friend a peep at 
 my ends, but no one must look on the means by which 
 they are achieved,' So saying, he shook his drunken 
 head most wisely. 
 
 The villainous design which this discourse implied, 
 and which his heart told him was designed against Alice 
 Bridgenorth, stirred Julian so extremely that he invol- 
 untarily shifted his posture and laid his hand on his sword 
 hilt. 
 
 Chiffinch heard a rustling, and broke off, exclaiming, 
 * Hark I Zounds, something moved. I trust I have told 
 the tale to no ears but thine.' 
 
 * I will cut off any which have drunk in but a syllable 
 of thy words,' said the nobleman; and raising a candle, 
 he took a hasty survey of the apartment. Seeing nothing 
 that could incur his menaced resentment, he replaced 
 the light and continued: 'Well, suppose the Belle Louise 
 de Querouaille ^ shoots from her high station in the 
 firmament, how will you rear up the down-fallen Plot 
 again; for without that same Plot, think of it as thou wilt, 
 we have no change of hands, and matters remain as they 
 
 * Charles's principal mistress en litre. She was created Duchess of 
 Portsmouth. 
 
 84
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 were, with a Protestant courtesan instead of a Papist. 
 Little Anthony can but little speed without that Plot 
 of his. I believe, in my conscience, he begot it himself.' ^ 
 
 'Whoever begot it,' said Chiffinch, 'he hath adopted 
 it; and a thriving babe it has been to him. Well, then, 
 though it lies out of my way, I will play St. Peter again — 
 up with t'other key and unlock t'other mystery.' 
 
 'Now thou speakest like a good fellow; and I will, with 
 my own hands, unwire this fresh flask, to begin a brim- 
 mer to the success of thy achievement.' 
 
 * Well, then,' continued the communicative Chiffinch, 
 'thou knowest that they have long had a nibbling at 
 the old Countess of Derby. So Ned was sent down — 
 he owes her an old accompt, thou knowest — with pri- 
 vate instructions to possess himself of the island, if he 
 could, by help of some of his old friends. He hath ever 
 kept up spies upon her; and happy man was he to 
 think his hour of vengeance was come so nigh. But he 
 missed his blow; and the old girl, being placed on her 
 guard, was soon in a condition to make Ned smoke for 
 it. Out of the island he came with little advantage for 
 having entered it; when, by some means — for the 
 devil, I think, stands ever his friend — he obtained 
 information concerning a messenger, whom her old 
 Majesty of Man had sent to London to make party in 
 her behalf. Ned stuck himself to this fellow — a raw, 
 half-bred lad, son of an old blundering Cavalier of the 
 old stamp, down in Derbyshire, and so managed the 
 swain, that he brought him to the place where I was 
 waiting, in anxious expectation of the pretty one I told 
 
 ^ Shaftesbury himself is supposed to have said that he knew not who 
 was the inventor of the Plot, but that he himself had all the advantage 
 of the discovery. 
 
 85
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 you of. By St. Anthony, for I will swear by no meaner 
 oath, I stared when I saw this great lout — not that the 
 fellow is so ill-looked neither — I stared like — like — 
 good now, help me to a simile.' 
 
 'Like St. Anthony's pig, an it were sleek,' said the 
 young lord; 'your eyes, Chiffie, have the very blink of 
 one. But what hath all this to do with the Plot? Hold; 
 I have had wine enough.' 
 
 'You shall not baulk me,' said Chiffinch; and a jingling 
 was heard, as if he were filling his comrade's glass with a 
 very unsteady hand. *Hey! What the devil is the mat- 
 ter? I used to carry my glass steady — very steady.' 
 
 'Well, but this stranger?' 
 
 'Why, he swept at game and ragout as he would at 
 spring beef or summer mutton. Never saw so unnurtured 
 a cub. Knew no more what he eat than an infidel. I 
 cursed him by my gods when I saw Chaubert's chef- 
 d^oeuvres glutted down so indifferent a throat. We took 
 the freedom to spice his goblet a little, and ease him of 
 his packet of letters; and the fool went on his way the 
 next morning with a budget artificially filled with grey 
 paper. Ned would have kept him, in hopes to have made 
 a witness of him, but the boy was not of that mettle.' 
 
 'How will you prove your letters?' said the courtier. 
 
 'La you there, my lord,' said Chiffinch; 'one may see 
 with half an eye, for all your laced doublet, that you 
 have been of the family of Furnival's, before your bro- 
 ther's death sent you to court. How prove the letters? 
 Why, we have but let the sparrow fly with a string round 
 his foot. We have him again so soon as we list.' 
 
 'Why, thou art turned a very Machiavel, Chiffinch,' 
 said his friend. 'But how if the youth proved restiff? I 
 
 86
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 have heard these Peak men have hot heads and hard 
 hands.' 
 
 'Trouble not yourself, that was cared for, my lord/ 
 said Chiffinch; 'his pistols might bark, but they could 
 not bite.' 
 
 'Most exquisite Chiffinch, thou art turned micher as 
 well as padder. Canst both rob a man and kidnap 
 him!' 
 
 'Micher and padder — what terms be these?' said 
 Chiffinch. 'Methinks these are sounds to lug out upon. 
 You will have me angry to the degree of falHng foul — 
 robber and kidnapper!' 
 
 'You mistake verb for noun-substantive,' replied his 
 lordship ; ' I said rob and kidnap — a man may do either 
 once and away without being professional.' 
 
 'But not without spilling a little foolish noble blood, 
 or some such red-coloured gear,' said Chiffinch, start- 
 ing up. 
 
 'Oh yes,' said his lordship; 'all this may be without 
 these direful consequences, and so you will find to-mor- 
 row, when you return to England; for at present you are 
 in the land of champagne, Chiffie; and that you may 
 continue so, I drink thee this parting cup to line thy 
 nightcap.' 
 
 'I do not refuse your pledge,' said Chiffinch; 'but I 
 drink to thee in dudgeon and in hostility. It is a cup 
 of wrath and a gage of battle. To-morrow, by dawn, I 
 will have thee at point of fox, wert thou the last of the 
 Savilles. What the devil! think you I fear you because 
 you are a lord?' 
 
 'Not so, Chiffinch,' answered his companion. ' I know 
 thou fearest nothing but beans and bacon, washed down 
 
 87
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 with bumpkin-like beer. Adieu, sweet ChiflSnch — to 
 bed, ChifRnch — to bed.' 
 
 So saying, he hfted a candle and left the apartment. 
 And Chiffinch, whom the last draught had nearly over- 
 powered, had just strength enough left to do the same, 
 muttering, as he staggered out, * Yes, he shall answer it. 
 Dawn of day! D — n me, it is come already. Yonder 's 
 the dawn. No, d — n me, 't is the fire glancing on the 
 cursed red lattice. I am whistle-drunk, I think. This 
 comes of a country inn. It is the smell of the brandy 
 in this cursed room. It could not be the wine. Well, Old 
 Rowley shall send me no more errands to the country 
 again. Steady — steady.' 
 
 So saying, he reeled out of the apartment, leaving 
 Peveril to think over the extraordinary conversation 
 he had Just heard. 
 
 The name of Chiffinch, the well-known minister of 
 Charles's pleasures, was nearly allied to the part which 
 he seemed about to play in the present intrigue ; but that 
 Christian, whom he had always supposed a Puritan as 
 strict as his brother-in-law Bridgenorth, should be asso- 
 ciated with him in a plot so infamous, seemed alike im- 
 natural and monstrous. The near relationship might 
 blind Bridgenorth, and warrant him in confiding his 
 daughter to such a man's charge; but what a wretch 
 he must be that could coolly meditate such an ignomini- 
 ous abuse of his trust! In doubt whether he could credit 
 for a moment the tale which Chiffinch had revealed, he 
 hastily examined his packet, and found that the sealskin 
 case in which it had been wrapt up now only contained 
 an equal quantity of waste-paper. If he had wanted 
 further confirmation, the failure of the shot which he had
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 fired at Bridgenorth, and of which the wadding only 
 struck him, showed that his arms had been tampered 
 with. He examined the pistol which still remained 
 charged, and found that the ball had been drawn. *May 
 I perish/ said he to himself, 'amid these villainous in- 
 trigues, but thou shalt be more surely loaded, and to 
 better purpose ! The contents of these papers may undo 
 my benefactress; their having been found on me may 
 ruin my father; that I have been the bearer of them may 
 cost, in these fiery times, my own life — that I care least 
 for; they form a branch of the scheme laid against the 
 honour and happiness of a creature so innocent, that it is 
 almost sin to think of her within the neighbourhood of 
 such infamous knaves. I will recover the letters at all 
 risks. But how? that is to be thought on. Lance is stout 
 and trusty; and when a bold deed is once resolved upon, 
 there never yet lacked the means of executing it.' 
 
 His host now entered with an apology for his long 
 absence ; and after providing Peveril with some refresh- 
 ments, invited him to accept, for his night-quarters, the 
 accommodation of a remote hay-loft, which he was to 
 share with his comrade; professing, at the same time, he 
 could hardly have afforded them this courtesy, but out 
 of deference to the exquisite talents of Lance Outram, as 
 Assistant at the tap; where, indeed, it seems probable 
 that he, as well as the admiring landlord, did that 
 evening contrive to drink nearly as much liquor as they 
 drew. 
 
 But Lance was a seasoned vessel, on whom liquor 
 made no lasting impression; so that, when Peveril 
 awaked that trusty follower at dawn, he found him cool 
 enough to comprehend and enter into the design which 
 
 89
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 he expressed of recovering the letters which had been 
 abstracted from his person. 
 
 Having considered the whole matter with much at- 
 tention, Lance shrugged, grinned, and scratched his 
 head; and at length manfully expressed his resolution. 
 'Well, my naunt speaks truth in her old saw — 
 
 He that serves Peveril maunna be slack, 
 Neither for weather nor yet for wrack. 
 
 And then, again, my good dame was wont to say, that 
 whenever Peveril was in a broil, Outram was in a stew; 
 so I will never bear a base mind, but even hold a part 
 with you, as my fathers have done with yours, for four 
 generations, whatever more.' 
 
 * Spoken like a most gallant Outram,' said Julian; 'and 
 were we but rid of that puppy lord and his retinue, we 
 two could easily deal with the other three.' 
 
 'Two Londoners and a Frenchman!' said Lance. *I 
 would take them in mine own hand. And as for my Lord 
 Saville, as they call him, I heard word last night that he 
 and all his men of gilded gingerbread — that looked at 
 an honest fellow Uke me as if they were the ore and I 
 the dross — are all to be off this morning to some races, 
 or such-like junketings, about Tutbury. It was that 
 brought him down here, where he met this other civet- 
 cat by accident.' 
 
 In truth, even as Lance spoke, a trampling was heard 
 of horses in the yard; and from the hatch of their hay- 
 loft they beheld Lord Saville's attendants mustered, and 
 ready to set out as soon as he should make his appear- 
 ance. 
 
 * So ho. Master Jeremy,' said one of the fellows to a 
 
 90
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 sort of principal attendant, who Just came out of the 
 house, ' methinks the wine has proved a sleeping-cup to 
 my lord this morning.' 
 
 'No,' answered Jeremy,'he hath been up before light, 
 writing letters for London; and to punish thy irrever- 
 ence, thou, Jonathan, shalt be the man to ride back with 
 them.' 
 
 'And so to miss the race!' said Jonathan, sulkily. 'I 
 thank you for this good turn, good Master Jeremy; and 
 hang me if I forget it.' 
 
 Further discussion was cut short by the appearance of 
 the young nobleman, who, as he came out of the inn, said 
 to Jeremy, 'These be the letters. Let one of the knaves 
 ride to London for life and death, and deliver them as 
 directed; and the rest of them get to horse and follow 
 me.' 
 
 Jeremy gave Jonathan the packet with a maUcious 
 smile; and the disappointed groom turned his horse's 
 head sullenly towards London, while Lord Saville and 
 the rest of his retinue rode briskly off in an opposite direc- 
 tion, pursued by the benedictions of the host and his 
 family, who stood bowing and curtsying at the door, 
 in gratitude, doubtless, for the receipt of an unconscion- 
 able reckoning. 
 
 It was full three hours after their departure that 
 Chifiinch lounged into the room in which they had 
 supped, in a brocade nightgown, and green velvet cap, 
 turned up with the most costly Brussels lace. He seemed 
 but half awake; and it was with drowsy voice that he 
 called for a cup of cold small beer. His manner and 
 appearance were those of a man who had wrestled hard 
 with Bacchus on the preceding evening, and had scarce 
 
 91
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 recovered the effects of his contest with the Jolly god. 
 Lance, instructed by his master to watch the motions of 
 the courtier, officiously attended with the cooling bever- 
 age he called for, pleading, as an excuse to the landlord, 
 his wish to see a Londoner in his morning gown and 
 cap. 
 
 No sooner had Chiffinch taken his morning draught 
 than he inquired after Lord Saville. 
 
 'His lordship was mounted and away by peep of 
 dawn,' was Lance's reply. 
 
 'What the devil!' exclaimed Chiffinch; 'why, this is 
 scarce civil. What! off for the races with his whole reti- 
 nue?' 
 
 'All but one,' replied Lance, 'whom his lordship sent 
 back to London with letters.' 
 
 'To London with letters!' said Chiffinch. 'Why, I 
 am for London, and could have saved his express a la- 
 bour. But stop — hold — I begin to recollect; d — n, 
 can I have blabbed ? I have — I have — I remember it 
 all now — I have blabbed, and to the very weasel of the 
 court, who sucks the yolk out of every man's secret. 
 Furies and fire — that my afternoons should ruin my 
 mornings thus ! I must turn boon companion and good 
 fellow in my cups; and have my confidences and my 
 quarrels, my friends and my enemies, with a plague to 
 me, as if any one could do a man much good or harm but 
 his own self! His messenger must be stopped, though; I 
 will put a spoke in his wheel. Hark ye, drawer-fellow, 
 call my groom hither — call Tom Beacon.' 
 
 Lance obeyed; but failed not, when he had introduced 
 the domestic, to remain in the apartment, in order to 
 hear what should pass betwixt him and his master. 
 
 92
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *Hark ye, Tom/ said Chiffinch, 'here are five pieces 
 for you.' 
 
 'What's to be done now, I trow?' said Tom, without 
 even the ceremony of returning thanks, which he was 
 probably well aware would not be received even in part 
 payment of the debt he was incurring. 
 
 * Mount your fleet nag, Tom — ride like the devil — 
 overtake the groom whom Lord Saville despatched to 
 London this morning — lame his horse — break his 
 bones — fill him as drunk as the Baltic Sea — or do 
 whatever may best and most effectually stop his jour- 
 ney. Why does the lout stand there without answering 
 me? Dost understand me?' 
 
 'Why, ay, Master Chiffinch,' said Tom; 'and so I am 
 thinking doth this honest man here, who need not have 
 heard quite so much of your counsel, an it had been your 
 will.' 
 
 *I am bewitched this morning,' said Chifi5nch to him- 
 self, *or else the champagne runs in my head still. My 
 brain has become the very lowlands of Holland : a gill 
 cup would inundate it. Hark thee, fellow,' he added, 
 addressing Lance, 'keep my counsel; there is a wager be- 
 twixt Lord Saville and me, which of us shall first have a 
 letter in London. Here is to drink my health and bring 
 luck on my side. Say nothing of it; but help Tom to his 
 nag. Tom, ere thou startest, come for thy credentials. 
 I will give thee a letter to the Duke of Bucks, that may 
 be evidence thou wert first in town.' 
 
 Tom Beacon ducked and exit; and Lance, after having 
 made some show of helping him to horse, ran back to tell 
 his master the joyful intelligence that a lucky accident 
 had abated Chif&nch's party to their own number. 
 
 93
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Peveril immediately ordered his horses to be got 
 ready; and, so soon as Tom Beacon was despatched 
 towards London on a rapid trot, had the satisfaction 
 to observe ChiflSnch, with his favourite Chaubert, mount 
 to pursue the same journey, though at a more moderate 
 rate. He permitted them to attain such a distance that 
 they might be dogged without suspicion ; then paid his 
 reckoning, mounted his horse, and followed, keeping his 
 men carefully in view, until he should come to a place 
 proper for the enterprise which he meditated. 
 
 It had been Peveril's intention that, when they came 
 to some solitary part of the road, they should gradually 
 mend their pace, until they overtook Chaubert; that 
 Lance Outram should then drop behind, in order to as- 
 sail the man of spits and stoves, while he himself, spur- 
 ring onward, should grapple with Chiffinch. But this 
 scheme presupposed that the master and servant should 
 travel in the usual manner — the latter riding a few 
 yards behind the former. Whereas, such and so inter- 
 esting were the subjects of discussion betwixt Chiffinch 
 and the French cook, that, without heeding the rules 
 of etiquette, they rode on together, amicably abreast, 
 carrying on a conversation on the mysteries of the table, 
 which the ancient Comus, or a modern gastronome, 
 might have listened to with pleasure. It was, therefore, 
 necessary to venture on them both at once. 
 
 For this purpose, when they saw a long tract of road 
 before them, unvaried by the least appearance of man, 
 beast, or human habitation, they began to mend their 
 pace, that they might come up to Chiffinch, without 
 giving him any alarm by a sudden and suspicious in- 
 crease of haste. In this manner, they lessened the dis- 
 
 94
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 tance which separated them till they were within about 
 twenty yards, when Peveril, afraid that Chiffinch might 
 recognise him at a nearer approach, and so trust to his 
 horse's heels, made Lance the signal to charge. 
 
 At the sudden increase of their speed, and the noise 
 with which it was necessarily attended, Chiffinch looked 
 around, but had time to do no more, for Lance, who had 
 pricked his pony, which was much more speedy than 
 Julian's horse, into full gallop, pushed, without cere- 
 mony, betwixt the courtier and his attendant; and ere 
 Chaubert had time for more than one exclamation, he 
 upset both horse and Frenchman; 'mortbleur thrilhng 
 from his tongue as he rolled on the ground amongst the 
 various articles of his occupation, which, escaping from 
 the budget in which he bore them, lay tumbled upon the 
 highway in strange disorder; while Lance, springing from 
 his palfrey, commanded his foeman to be still, under no 
 less a penalty than that of death, if he attempted to 
 rise. 
 
 Before Chiffinch could avenge his trusty follower's 
 downfall, his own bridle was seized by Julian, who pre- 
 sented a pistol with the other hand, and commanded him 
 to stand or die. 
 
 Chiffinch, though effeminate, was no coward. He 
 stood still as commanded, and said, with firmness, 
 'Rogue, you have taken me at surprise. If you are a 
 highwayman, there is my purse. Do us no bodily harm, 
 and spare the budget of spices and sauces.' 
 
 'Look you, Master Chiffinch,' said Peveril, 'this is 
 no time for dallying. I am no highwayman, but a man 
 of honour. Give me back that packet which you stole 
 from me the other night; or, by all that is good, I will 
 
 95
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 send a brace of balls through you, and search for it at 
 leisure.' 
 
 ' What night? What packet? ' answered Chifl5nch, con- 
 fused; yet willing to protract the time for the chance of 
 assistance, or to put Peveril off his guard. 'I know no- 
 thing of what you mean. If you are a man of honour, let 
 me draw my sword, and I will do you right, as a gentle- 
 man should do to another.' 
 
 * Dishonourable rascal ! ' said Peveril, ' you escape not 
 in this manner. You plundered me when you had me at 
 odds ; and I am not the fool to let my advantage escape, 
 now that my turn is come. Yield up the packet; and 
 then, if you will, I will fight you on equal terms. But 
 first,' he reiterated, * yield up the packet, or I will in- 
 stantly send you where the tenor of your life will be hard 
 to answer for.' 
 
 The tone of Peveril's voice, the fierceness of his eye, 
 and the manner in which he held the loaded weapon, 
 within a hand's-breadth of Chifi&nch's head, convinced 
 the last there was neither room for compromise nor time 
 for trifling. He thrust his hand into a side-pocket of his 
 cloak, and with visible reluctance produced those papers 
 and despatches with which Julian had been entrusted by 
 the Countess of Derby. 
 
 'They are five in number,' said Julian; 'and you have 
 given me only four. Your life depends on full restitu- 
 tion.' 
 
 *It escaped from my hand,' said Chiffinch, producing 
 the missing document. 'There it is. Now, sir, your 
 pleasure is fulfilled, unless,' he added, sulkily, 'you de- 
 sign either murder or further robbery.' 
 
 'Base wretch!' said Peveril, withdrawing his pistol, 
 96
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 yet keeping a watchful eye on Chifl5nch's motions, 'thou 
 art unworthy any honest man's sword; and yet, if you 
 dare draw your own, as you proposed but now, I am 
 willing to give you a chance upon fair equality of terms.' 
 
 'Equality!' said Chiffinch, sneeringly: 'yes, a proper 
 equality — sword and pistol against single rapier, and 
 two men upon one, for Chaubert is no fighter. No, 
 sir; I shall seek amends upon some more fitting occasion, 
 and with more equal weapons.' 
 
 'By backbiting or by poison, base pander!' said Ju- 
 lian ; ' these are thy means of vengeance. But mark me 
 — I know your vile purpose respecting a lady who is too 
 worthy that her name should be uttered in such a worth- 
 less ear. Thou hast done me one injury, and thou see'st 
 I have repaid it. But prosecute this further villainy, 
 and be assured I will put thee to death like a foul reptile, 
 whose very slaver is fatal to humanity. Rely upon this, 
 as if Machiavel had sworn it; for so surely as you keep 
 your purpose, so surely will I prosecute my revenge. 
 Follow me. Lance, and leave him to think on what I have 
 told him.' 
 
 Lance had, after the first shock, sustained a very easy 
 part in this rencontre; for all he had to do was to point 
 the butt of his whip, in the manner of a gun, at the inti- 
 midated Frenchman, who, lying on his back and gazing 
 at random on the skies, had as Httle the power or pur- 
 pose of resistance as any pig which had ever come under 
 his own slaughter-knife. 
 
 Summoned by his master from the easy duty of guard- 
 ing such an unresisting prisoner, Lance remounted his 
 horse, and they both rode off, leaving their discomfited 
 antagonists to console themselves for their misadven- 
 
 28 97
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ture as they best could. But consolation was hard to 
 come by in the circumstances. The French artist had to 
 lament the dispersion of his spices and the destruction 
 of his magazine of sauces — an enchanter despoiled of 
 his magic wand and talisman could scarce have been 
 in more desperate extremity. Chiffinch had to mourn 
 the downfall of his intrigue and its premature discovery. 
 * To this fellow, at least,' he thought, ' I can have bragged 
 none ; here my evil genius alone has betrayed me. With 
 this infernal discovery, which may cost me so dear on all 
 hands, champagne had nought to do. If there be a flask 
 left imbroken, I will drink it after dirmer, and try if it 
 may not even yet suggest some scheme of redemption 
 and of revenge.' 
 
 With this manly resolution, he prosecuted his journey 
 to London.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A man so various, that he seemed to be 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome; 
 Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, 
 Was everything by starts, but nothing long; 
 Who, in the course of one revolving moon, 
 Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon; 
 Then, all for women, painting, fiddling, drinking; 
 Besides a thousand freaks that died in thinking. 
 
 Drydem. 
 
 We must now transport the reader to the magnificent 
 hotel in Street, inhabited at this time by the cele- 
 brated George Villiers,Duke of Buckingham, whom Dry- 
 den has doomed to a painful immortality by the few lines 
 which we have prefixed to this chapter. Amid the gay 
 and the licentious of the laughing court of Charles, the 
 duke was the most licentious and most gay; yet, while 
 expending a princely fortune, a strong constitution, and 
 excellent talents, in pursuit of frivolous pleasures, he 
 nevertheless nourished deeper and more extensive de- 
 signs; in which he only failed from want of that fixed 
 purpose and regulated perseverance essential to all im- 
 portant enterprises, but particularly in politics. 
 
 It was long past noon ; and the usual hour of the duke's 
 levee — if anything could be termed usual where all was 
 irregular — had been long past. His hall was filled with 
 lackeys and footmen in the most splendid liveries, the 
 interior apartments with the gentlemen and pages of his 
 household arrayed as persons of the first quality, and, 
 in that respect, rather exceeding than falling short of the 
 duke in personal splendour. But his ante-chamber, in 
 
 99
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 particular, might be compared to a gathering of eagles 
 to the slaughter, were not the simile too dignified to ex- 
 press that vile race who, by a hundred devices, all tend- 
 ing to one common end, live upon the wants of needy 
 greatness, or administer to the pleasures of summer- 
 teeming luxury, or stimulate the wild wishes of lavish 
 and wasteful extravagance, by devising new modes and 
 fresh motives of profusion. There stood the projector, 
 with his mysterious brow, promising unbounded wealth, 
 to whomsoever might choose to furnish the small pre- 
 liminary sum necessary to change egg-shells into the 
 great arcanum. There was Captain Seagull, undertaker 
 for a foreign settlement, with the map under his arm of 
 Indian or American kingdoms, beautiful as the primitive 
 Eden, waiting the bold occupants, for whom a generous 
 patron should equip two brigantines and a fly-boat. 
 Thither came, fast and frequent, the gamesters, in their 
 different forms and calling. This, Hght, young, gay in ap- 
 pearance, the thoughtless youth of wit and pleasure — ■ 
 the pigeon rather than the rook — but at heart the same 
 sly, shrewd, cold-blooded calculator as yonder old hard- 
 featured professor of the same science, whose eyes are 
 grown dim with watching the dice at midnight, and 
 whose fingers are even now assisting his mental compu- 
 tation of chances and of odds. The fine arts, too — I 
 would it were otherwise — have their professors amongst 
 this sordid train. The poor poet, half ashamed, in spite 
 of habit, of the part which he is about to perform, and 
 abashed by consciousness at once of his base motive and 
 his shabby black coat, lurks in yonder comer for the 
 favourable moment to offer his dedication. Much better 
 attired, the architect presents his splendid vision of front 
 
 lOO
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 and wings, and designs a palace the expense of which 
 may transfer his employer to a jail. But uppermost of 
 all, the favourite musician, or singer, who waits on my 
 lord to receive, in solid gold, the value of the dulcet 
 sounds which solaced the banquet of the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 Such, and many such like, were the morning attend- 
 ants of the Duke of Buckingham — all genuine descend- 
 ants of the daughter of the horse-leech, whose cry is 
 'Give — give.' 
 
 But the levee of his Grace contained other and very 
 different characters; and was indeed as various as his 
 own opinions and pursuits. Besides many of the young 
 nobility and wealthy gentry of England, who made his 
 Grace the glass at which they dressed themselves for the 
 day, and who learned from him how to travel, with the 
 newest and best grace, the general 'road to ruin,' there 
 were others of a graver character — discarded states- 
 men, political spies, opposition orators, servile tools of 
 administration, men who met not elsewhere, but who 
 regarded the duke's mansion as a sort of neutral ground, 
 sure that, if he was not of their opinion to-day, this very 
 circumstance rendered it most likely he should think 
 with them to-morrow. The Puritans themselves did not 
 shun intercourse with a man whose talents must have 
 rendered him formidable, even if they had not been 
 united with high rank and an immense fortune. Several 
 grave personages, with black suits, short cloaks, and 
 bandstrings of a formal cut, were mingled, as we see 
 their portraits in a gallery of paintings, among the gal- 
 lants who ruflfled in silk and embroidery. It is true, they 
 escaped the scandal of being thought intimates of the 
 
 lOI 
 
 -^•4 

 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 duke, by their business being supposed to refer to money 
 matters. Whether these grave and professing citizens 
 mixed politics with money-lending was not known ; but 
 it had been long observed that the Jews, who in general 
 confine themselves to the latter department, had be- 
 come for some time faithful attendants at the duke's 
 levee. 
 
 It was high-tide in the ante-chamber, and had been 
 so for more than an hour, ere the duke's gentleman in 
 ordinary ventured into his bedchamber, carefully dark- 
 ened so as to make midnight at noonday, to know his 
 Grace's pleasure. His soft and serene whisper, in which 
 he asked whether it were his Grace's pleasure to rise, 
 was briefly and sharply answered by the counter ques- 
 tions, 'Who waits? What's o'clock?' 
 
 'It is Jerningham, your Grace,' said the attendant. 
 ' It is one afternoon ; and your Grace appointed some of 
 the people without at eleven.' 
 
 'Who are they? What do they want? ' 
 
 'A message from WTiitehall, your Grace.' 
 
 'Pshaw! it will keep cold. Those who make all others 
 wait will be the better of waiting in their turn. Were I 
 to be guilty of ill-breeding, it should rather be to a king 
 than a beggar.' 
 
 'The gentlemen from the city.' 
 
 *I am tired of them — tired of their all cant and no 
 religion — all Protestantism and no charity. Tell them 
 to go to Shaftesbury — to Aldersgate Street with them 
 — that's the best market for their wares.' 
 
 'Jockey, my lord, from Newmarket.' 
 
 'Let him ride to the devil; he has horse of mine and 
 spurs of his own. Any more? ' 
 
 102
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'The whole ante-chamber is full, my lord — knights 
 and squires, doctors and dicers.' 
 
 'The dicers, with their doctors ^ in their pockets, I pre- 
 sume.' 
 
 'Counts, captains, and clergymen.' 
 
 'You are alHterative, Jerningham,' said the duke; 
 'and that is a proof you are poetical. Hand me my writ- 
 ing-things.' 
 
 Getting half out of bed — thrusting one arm into a 
 brocaded nightgown, deeply furred with sables, and one 
 foot into a velvet slipper, while the other pressed in 
 primitive nudity the rich carpet — his Grace, without 
 thinking further on the assembly without, began to pen 
 a few lines of a satirical poem ; then suddenly stopped — 
 threw the pen into the chimney — exclaimed that the 
 humour was past, and asked his attendant if there were 
 any letters. Jerningham produced a huge packet. 
 
 'What the devil!' said his Grace, 'do you think I will 
 read all these? I am like Clarence, who asked a cup of 
 wine, and was soused into a butt of sack. I mean, is 
 there anything which presses? ' 
 
 'This letter, your Grace,' said Jerningham, 'concern- 
 ing the Yorkshire mortgage.' 
 
 'Did I not bid thee carry it to old Gatheral, my 
 steward?' 
 
 'I did, my lord,' answered the other; 'but Gatheral 
 says there are difficulties.' 
 
 'Let the usurers foreclose, then; there is no difficulty 
 in that ; and out of a hundred manors I shall scarce miss 
 one,' answered the duke. 'And hark ye, bring me my 
 chocolate.' 
 
 ^ A cant name for false dice. 
 I03
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'Nay, my lord, Gatheral does not say it is impossible, 
 only difficult.' 
 
 'And what is the use of him, if he cannot make it 
 easy? But you are all born to make difficulties,' replied 
 the duke. 
 
 ' Nay, if your Grace approves the terms in this sched- 
 ule, and pleases to sign it, Gatheral will undertake for 
 the matter,' answered Jerningham. 
 
 'And could you not have said so at first, you block- 
 head?' said the duke, signing the paper without looking 
 at the contents. 'What other letters? And remember, I 
 must be plagued with no more business.' 
 
 'Billets-doux, my lord — five or six of them. This 
 left at the porter's lodge by a vizard mask.' 
 
 'Pshaw!' answered the duke, tossing them over, while 
 his attendant assisted in dressing him; ' an acquaintance 
 of a quarter's standing.' 
 
 'This given to one of the pages by my Lady 's 
 
 waiting- woman . ' 
 
 'Plague on it! a jeremiade on the subject of perjury 
 and treachery, and not a single new line to the old tune,' 
 said the duke, glancing over the billet. 'Plere is the old 
 cant — "cruel man — broken vows — Heaven's just 
 revenge." Why, the woman is thinking of murder, not 
 of love. No one should pretend to write upon so thread- 
 bare a topic without having at least some novelty of 
 expression. "The despairing Araminta." Lie there, 
 fair desperate. And this — how comes it? ' 
 
 'Flung into the window of the hall, by a fellow who 
 ran ofif at full speed,' answered Jerningham. 
 
 'This is a better text,' said the duke; 'and yet it is an 
 old one too — three weeks old at least. The little count- 
 
 104
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ess with the Jealous lord. I should not care a farthing 
 for her, save for that same jealous lord. Plague on't, 
 and he's gone down to the country — "this evening — 
 in silence and safety — written with a quill pulled from 
 the wing of Cupid." Your ladyship has left him pen- 
 feathers enough to fly away with; better clipped his 
 wings when you had caught him, my lady. And "so 
 confident of her Buckingham's faith." I hate confidence 
 in a young person. She must be taught better. I will 
 not go.' 
 
 'Your Grace will not be so cruel!' said Jerningham. 
 
 'Thou art a compassionate fellow, Jerningham; but 
 conceit must be punished.' 
 
 'But if your lordship should resume your fancy for 
 her?' 
 
 'Why, then, you must swear the billet-doux mis- 
 carried,' answered the duke. 'And stay, a thought 
 strikes me: it shall miscarry in great style. Hark ye, is 
 — what is the fellow's name — the poet — is he yon- 
 der?' 
 
 'There are six gentlemen, sir, who, from the reams of 
 paper in their pocket and the threadbare seams at their 
 elbows, appear to wear the livery of the Muses.' 
 
 'Poetical once more, Jerningham. He, I mean, who 
 wrote the last lampoon,' said the duke. 
 
 'To whom your Grace said you owed five pieces and 
 a beating? ' replied Jerningham. 
 
 'The money for his satire, and the cudgel for his 
 praise. Good — find him — give him the five pieces, and 
 thrust the countess's billet-doux — hold — take Ara- 
 minta's and the rest of them — thrust them all into his 
 portfolio. All will come out at the Wits' Coffee-house;
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and if the promulgator be not cudgelled into all the col- 
 ours of the rainbow, there is no spite in woman, no faith 
 in crabtree, or pith in heart of oak. Araminta's wrath 
 alone would overburden one pair of mortal shoulders.' 
 
 *But, my lord duke,' said his attendant, * this Settle ^ 
 is so dull a rascal, that nothing he can write will take.' 
 
 'Then, as we have given him steel to head the arrow,' 
 said the duke, 'we will give him wings to waft it with; 
 wood he has enough of his own to make a shaft or bolt 
 of. Hand me my own unfinished lampoon; give it to 
 him with the letters, let him make what he can of them 
 all.' 
 
 ' My lord duke — I crave pardon — but your Grace's 
 style will be discovered; and though the ladies' names 
 are not at the letters, yet they will be traced.' 
 
 *I would have it so, you blockhead. Have you lived 
 with me so long, and cannot discover that the eclai of 
 an intrigue is, with me, worth all the rest of it?' 
 
 'But the danger, my lord duke?' replied Jerningham. 
 'There are husbands, brothers, friends, whose revenge 
 may be awakened.' 
 
 'And beaten to sleep again,' said Buckingham, haught- 
 ily. 'I have Black Will and his cudgel for plebeian 
 grumblers; and those of quality I can deal with myself. 
 I lack breathing and exercise of late.' ^ 
 
 'But yet your Grace — ' 
 
 'Hold your peace, fool! I tell you that your- poor 
 dwarfish spirit cannot measure the scope of mine. I tell 
 thee I would have the course of my life a torrent : I am 
 weary of easy achievements, and wish for obstacles, 
 that I can sweep before my irresistible course.' 
 
 1 See Note 4. * See Note 5. 
 
 106
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Another gentleman now entered the apartment. 'I 
 humbly crave your Grace's pardon,' he said; 'but Master 
 Christian is so importunate for admission instantly, that 
 I am obliged to take your Grace's pleasure.' 
 
 'Tell him to call three hours hence. Damn his politic 
 pate, that would make all men dance after his pipe ! ' 
 
 *I thank you for the compliment, my lord duke,' said 
 Christian, entering the apartment in somewhat a more 
 courtly garb, but with the same unpretending and un- 
 distinguished mien, and in the same placid and indiffer- 
 ent manner with which he had accosted Julian Peveril 
 upon different occasions during his journey to London. 
 'It is precisely my present object to pipe to you; and you 
 may dance to your own profit, if you will.' 
 
 'On my word, Master Christian,' said the duke, 
 haughtily, 'the affair should be weighty that removes 
 ceremony so entirely from betwixt us. If it relates to the 
 subject of our last conversation, I must request our in- 
 terview be postponed to some further opportunity. I 
 am engaged in an affair of some weight.' Then turning 
 his back on Christian, he went on with his conversation 
 with Jerningham. 'Find the person you wot of, and 
 give him the papers; and hark ye, give him this gold to 
 pay for the shaft of his arrow; the steel-head and pea- 
 cock's wing we have already provided.' 
 
 'This is all well, my lord,' said Christian, calmly, and 
 taking his seat at the same time in an easy-chair at some 
 distance; 'but your Grace's levity is no match for my 
 equanimity. It is necessary I should speak with you; and 
 I will await your Grace's leisure in the apartment.' 
 
 * Very well, sir,' said the duke, peevishly; 'if an evil is 
 to be undergone, the sooner it is over the better; I can 
 
 107
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 take measures to prevent its being renewed. So let me 
 hear your errand without further delay.' 
 
 'I will wait till your Grace's toilette is completed/ 
 said Christian, with the indifferent tone which was natu- 
 ral to him. 'What I have to say must be between our- 
 selves.' 
 
 'Begone, Jerningham, and remain without till I call. 
 Leave my doublet on the couch. How now? I have worn 
 this cloth of silver a hundred times.' 
 
 'Only twice, if it please your Grace,' replied Jerning- 
 ham. 
 
 'As well twenty times; keep it for yourself, or give it to 
 my valet, if you are too proud of your gentility.' 
 
 'Your Grace has made better men than me wear your 
 cast clothes,' said Jerningham, submissively. 
 
 'Thou art sharp, Jerningham,' said the duke; 'in one 
 sense I have, and I may again. So now, that pearl-col- 
 oured thing will do with the ribbon and George. Get 
 away with thee. And now that he is gone, Master Chris- 
 tian, may I once more crave your pleasure?' 
 
 'My lord duke,' said Christian, 'you are a worshipper 
 of difficulties in state affairs, as in love matters.' 
 
 ' I trust you have been no eavesdropper. Master Chris- 
 tian,' replied the duke; 'it scarce argues the respect due 
 to me or to my roof.' 
 
 ' I know not what you mean, my lord,' replied Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 'Nay, I care not if the whole world heard what I said 
 but now to Jerningham. But to the matter,' replied the 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 ' Your Grace is so much occupied with conquests over 
 the fair and over the witty, that you have perhaps for- 
 
 io8
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 gotten what a stake you have in the little Island of 
 Man.' 
 
 'Not a whit, Master Christian. I remember well 
 enough that my Roundheaded father-in-law, Fairfax, 
 had the island from the Long ParUament; and was ass 
 enough to quit hold of it at the Restoration, when, if he 
 had closed his clutches and held fast, like a true bird of 
 prey, as he should have done, he might have kept it for 
 him and his. It had been a rare thing to have had a little 
 kingdom — made laws of my own — had my chamber- 
 lain with his white staff; I would have taught Jerning- 
 ham, in half a day, to look as wise, walk as stifHy, and 
 speak as sillily, as Harry Bennet.' ^ 
 
 'You might have done this, and more, if it had pleased 
 your Grace.' 
 
 'Ay, and if it had pleased my Grace, thou, Ned Chris- 
 tian, shouldst have been the Jack Ketch of my domin- 
 ions.' 
 
 */ your Jack Ketch, my lord?' said Christian, more in 
 a tone of surprise than of displeasure. 
 
 'Why, ay; thou hast been perpetually intriguing 
 against the life of yonder poor old woman. It were a 
 kingdom to thee to gratify thy spleen with thy own 
 hands.' 
 
 'I only seek justice against the countess,' said Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 'And the end of justice is always a gibbet,' said the 
 duke. 
 
 'Be it so,' answered Christian. 'Well, the countess is 
 in the Plot.' 
 
 'The devil confound the Plot, as I believe he first 
 
 ^ See Note 6. 
 109
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 invented it!' said the Duke of Buckingham; *I have 
 heard of nothing else for months. If one must go to hell, 
 I would it were by some new road, and in gentlemen's 
 company. I should not Uke to travel with Gates, Bedloe, 
 and the rest of that famous cloud of witnesses.' 
 
 ' Your Grace is then resolved to forego all the advan- 
 tages which may arise? If the house of Derby fall under 
 forfeiture, the grant to Fairfax, now worthily represented 
 by your duchess, revives; and you become the lord and 
 sovereign of Man.' 
 
 *In right of a woman,' said the duke; 'but, in troth, 
 my godly dame owes me some advantage for having 
 lived the first year of our marriage with her and old Black 
 Tom, her grim, fighting, Puritanic father. A man might 
 as well have married the devil's daughter, and set up 
 housekeeping with his father-in-law.' ^ 
 
 *I understand you are willing, then, to join your 
 interest for a heave at the house of Derby, my Lord 
 Duke?' 
 
 'As they are imlawfully possessed of my wife's king- 
 dom, they certainly can expect no favour at my hand. 
 But thou knowest there is an interest at Whitehall pre- 
 dominant over mine.' 
 
 - 'That is only by your Grace's sufferance,' said Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 'No — no; I tell thee a hundred times no,' said the 
 duke, rousing himself to anger at the recollection. 'I 
 tell thee that base courtesan, the Duchess of Portsmouth, 
 hath impudently set herself to thwart and contradict me; 
 and Charles has given me both cloudy looks and hard 
 words before the court. I would he could but guess what 
 * See Note 7. 
 IIO
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 is the offence between her and me ! I would he but knew 
 that ! But I will have her plumes plucked, or my name 
 is not Villiers. A worthless French fille-de-joie to brave 
 me thus! Christian, thou art right: there is no passion so 
 spirit-stirring as revenge. I will patronise the Plot, if it 
 be but to spite her, and make it impossible for the King 
 to uphold her.' 
 
 As the duke spoke, he gradually wrought himself into 
 a passion, and traversed the apartment with as much 
 vehemence as if the only object he had on earth was to 
 deprive the duchess of her power and favour with the 
 King. Christian smiled internally to see him approach- 
 ing the state of mind in which he was most easily worked 
 upon, and judiciously kept silence, until the duke called 
 out to him in a pet, ' Well, Sir Oracle, you that have laid 
 so many schemes to supplant this she-wolf of Gaul, 
 where are all your contrivances now? Where is the ex- 
 quisite beauty who was to catch the sovereign's eye at 
 the first glance? Chiffinch, hath he seen her? and what 
 does he say, that exquisite critic in beauty and blanc- 
 mange, women and wine? ' 
 
 *He has seen and approves, but has not yet heard her; 
 and her speech answers to all the rest. We came here 
 yesterday; and to-day I intend to introduce Chiffinch 
 to her, the instant he arrives from the country; and 
 I expect him every hour. I am but afraid of the damsel's 
 peevish virtue, for she hath been brought up after the 
 fashion of our grandmothers; our mothers had better 
 sense.' 
 
 'What! so fair, so young, so quick-witted, and so 
 difficult?' said the duke. 'By your leave, you shall in- 
 troduce me as well as Chiffinch.' 
 
 Ill
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *That your Grace may cure her of her intractable 
 modesty?' said Christian. 
 
 ' Why,' replied the duke, ' it will but teach her to stand 
 in her own light. Kings do not love to court and sue; 
 they should have their game run down for them.' 
 
 'Under your Grace's favour,' said Christian, 'this 
 cannot be. Non omnibus dormio — your Grace knows 
 the classic allusion. If this maiden become a prince's 
 favourite, rank gilds the shame and the sin. But to any 
 under Majesty she must not vail topsail.' 
 
 'Why, thou suspicious fool, I was but in jest,' said the 
 duke. 'Do you think I would interfere to spoil a plan so 
 much to my own advantage as that which you have laid 
 before me? ' 
 
 Christian smiled and shook his head. 'My lord,' he 
 said, 'I know your Grace as well, or better perhaps, 
 than you know yourself. To spoil a well-concerted in- 
 trigue by some cross stroke of your own would give you 
 more pleasure than to bring it to a successful termina- 
 tion according to the plans of others. But Shaftesbury, 
 and all concerned, have determined that our scheme 
 shall at least have fair play. We reckon, therefore, on 
 your help; and — forgive me when I say so — we will 
 not permit ourselves to be impeded by your levity and 
 fickleness of purpose.' 
 
 'Who? / light and fickle of purpose?' said the duke. 
 * You see me here as resolved as any of you to dispossess 
 the mistress and to carry on the Plot; these are the only 
 two things I live for in this world. No one can play the 
 man of business like me when I please, to the very filing 
 and labelling of my letters. I am regular as a scrivener.' 
 
 'You have Chiffinch's letter from the country; he told 
 
 112
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 me he had written to you about some passages betwixt 
 him and the young Lord Saville.' 
 
 'He did so — he did so/ said the duke, looking among 
 his letters; 'but I see not his letter just now. I scarcely 
 noted the contents — I was busy when it came; but I 
 have it safely.' 
 
 'You should have acted on it/ answered Christian. 
 'The fool suffered himself to be choused out of his secret, 
 and prayed you to see that my lord's messenger got not 
 to the Duchess with some despatches which he sent up 
 from Derbyshire, betraying our mystery.' 
 
 The duke was now alarmed, and rang the bell hastily. 
 Jerningham appeared. 'Where is the letter I had from 
 Master Chiffinch some hours since?' 
 
 ' If it be not amongst those your Grace has before you, 
 I know nothing of it/ said Jerningham. 'I saw none 
 such arrive.' 
 
 'You lie, you rascal,' said Buckingham; 'have you a 
 right to remember better than I do?' 
 
 'If your Grace will forgive me reminding you, you 
 have scarce opened a letter this week,' said his gentle- 
 man. 
 
 'Did you ever hear such a provoking rascal!' said the 
 duke. 'He might be a witness in the Plot. He has 
 knocked my character for regularity entirely on the head 
 with his damned counter-evidence.' 
 
 'Your Grace's talent and capacity will at least remain 
 unimpeached,' said Christian; 'and it is those that must 
 serve yourself and your friends. If I might advise, you 
 will hasten to court, and lay some foundation for the im- 
 pression we wish to make. If your Grace can take the 
 first word,, and throw out a hint to cross-bite Saville, it 
 
 88 113
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 will be well. But above all, keep the King's ear em- 
 ployed, which no one can do so well as you. Leave 
 Chiffinch to fill his heart with a proper object. Another 
 thing is, there is a blockhead of an old Cavalier, who 
 must needs be a bustler in the Countess of Derby's be- 
 half; he is fast in hold, with the whole tribe of witnesses 
 at his haunches.' 
 
 'Nay, then, take him, Topham.' 
 
 'Topham has taken him already, my lord,' said 
 Christian; 'and there is, besides, a young gallant, a son 
 of the said knight, who was bred in the household of the 
 Countess of Derby, and who has brought letters from 
 her to the Provincial of the Jesuits and others in Lon- 
 don.' 
 
 'What are their names?' said the duke, drily. 
 
 * Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Martindale Castle, in Derby- 
 shire, and his son Juhan.' 
 
 'What! Peveril of the Peak?' said the duke — 'a 
 stout old Cavalier as ever swore an oath. A Worcester 
 man, too, and, in truth, a man of all work, when blows 
 were going. I will not consent to his ruin. Christian. 
 These fellows must be flogged oJBf such false scents; 
 flogged in every sense, they must, and will be, when the 
 nation comes to its eyesight again.' 
 
 'It is of more than the last importance, in the mean- 
 time, to the furtherance of our plan,' said Christian, 
 ' that your Grace should stand for a space between them 
 and the King's favour. The youth hath influence with 
 the maiden, which we should find scarce favourable to 
 our views; besides, her father holds him as high as he 
 can any one who is no such Puritanic fool as himself.' 
 
 'Well, most Christian Christian,' said the duke, *I 
 114
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 have heard your commands at length. I will endeavour 
 to stop the earths under the throne, that neither the lord, 
 knight, nor squire in question shall find it possible to 
 burrow there. For the fair one, I must leave Chifiinch 
 and you to manage her introduction to her high des- 
 tinies, since I am not to be trusted. Adieu, most 
 Christian Christian.' 
 
 He fixed his eyes on him, and then exclaimed, as he 
 shut the door of the apartment — * Most profligate and 
 damnable villain! And what provokes me most of all 
 is the knave's composed insolence. "Your Grace will 
 do this" and "Your Grace will condescend to do that." 
 A pretty puppet I should be, to play the second part, 
 or rather the third, in such a scheme! No, they shall all 
 walk according to my purpose, or I will cross them. I will 
 find this girl out in spite of them, and Judge if their 
 scheme is likely to be successful. If so, she shall be mine 
 ■ — mine entirely, before she becomes the King's; and I 
 will command her who is to guide Charles. Jerningham ^ 
 (his gentleman entered), cause Christian to be dogged 
 wherever he goes for the next four-and-twenty hours, 
 and find out where he visits a female newly come to 
 town. You smile, you knave? ' 
 
 *I did but suspect a fresh rival to Araminta and the 
 little coimtess,' said Jerningham. 
 
 'Away to your business, knave,' said the duke, 'and 
 let me think of mine. To subdue a Puritan in esse, a 
 king's favourite in posse — the very muster of western 
 beauties — that is point first. The impudence of this 
 Manx mongrel to be corrected — the pride of Madame 
 la Duchesse to be pulled down — an important state 
 
 1 See Note 8. 
 "5
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 intrigue to be furthered, or bafl3ed, as circumstances 
 render most to my own honour and glory — I wished 
 for business but now, and I have got enough of it. But 
 Buckingham will keep his own steerage-way through 
 shoal and through weather.'
 
 CHAPTER XXrX 
 
 Mark you this, Bassanio — 
 The devfl can quote Scripture for his purpose. 
 
 Merchant of Venice, 
 
 After leaving the proud mansion of the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, Christian, full of the deep and treacherous 
 schemes which he meditated, hastened to the city, where, 
 in a decent inn, kept by a person of his own persuasion, 
 he had been unexpectedly summoned to meet with 
 Ralph Bridgenorth of Moultrassie. He was not disap- 
 pointed : the major had arrived that morning, and anx- 
 iously expected him . The usual gloom of his countenance 
 was darkened into a yet deeper shade of anxiety, which 
 was scarcely relieved even while, in answer to his inquiry 
 after his daughter, Christian gave the most favoura- 
 ble account of her health and spirits, naturally and un- 
 affectedly intermingled with such praises of her beauty 
 and her disposition as were likely to be most grateful 
 to a father's ear. 
 
 But Christian had too much cunning to expatiate on 
 this theme, however soothing. He stopped short exactly 
 at the point where, as an affectionate relative, he might 
 be supposed to have said enough. 'The lady,' he said; 
 'with whom he had placed Alice was delighted with her 
 aspect and manners, and undertook to be responsible 
 for her health and happiness. He had not,' he said, 
 'deserved so little confidence at the hand of his brother 
 Bridgenorth, as that the major should, contrary to his 
 
 117
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'purpose and to the plan which they had adjusted 
 together, have hurried up from the country, as if 
 his own presence were necessary for Alice's protec- 
 tion.' 
 
 'Brother Christian,' said Bridgenorth in reply, 'I 
 must see my child — I must see this person with whom 
 she is entrusted.' 
 
 * To what purpose? ' answered Christian. * Have you 
 not often confessed that the over excess of the carnal 
 affection which you have entertained for your daughter 
 hath been a snare to you? Have you not, more than 
 once, been on the point of resigning those great designs 
 which should place righteousness as a counsellor beside 
 the throne, because you desired to gratify your daughter's 
 girHsh passion for this descendant of your old persecutor 
 • — this Julian Peveril? ' 
 
 *I own it,' said Bridgenorth; 'and worlds would I have 
 given, and would yet give, to clasp that youth to my 
 bosom and call him my son. The spirit of his mother 
 looks from his eye, and his stately step is as that of his 
 father, when he daily spoke comfort to me in my distress, 
 and said, "The child Hveth.'" 
 
 'But the youth walks,' said Christian, 'after his own 
 lights, and mistakes the meteor of the marsh for the 
 Polar star. Ralph Bridgenorth, I will speak to thee in 
 friendly sincerity. Thou must not think to serve both 
 the good cause and Baal. Obey, if thou wilt, thine own 
 carnal affections: summon this Julian Peveril to thy 
 house, and let him wed thy daughter; but mark the 
 reception she will meet with from the proud old knight, 
 whose spirit is now, even now, as little broken with his 
 chains as after the sword of the saints had prevailed at 
 
 ii8
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Worcester. Thou wilt see tjiy daughter spurned from 
 his feet like an outcast.' 
 
 'Christian/ said Bridgenorth, interrupting him, 'thou 
 dost urge me hard; but thou dost it in love, my brother, 
 and I forgive thee. Alice shall never be spurned. But 
 this friend of thine — this lady — thou art my child's 
 uncle, and, after me, thou art next to her in love and 
 affection — still, thou art not her father — hast not her 
 father's fears — art thou sure of the character of this 
 woman to whom my child is entrusted?' 
 
 'Am I sure of my own? Am I sure that my name is 
 Christian, yours Bridgenorth? Is it a thing I am likely 
 to be insecure in? Have I not dwelt for many years in 
 this city? Do I not know this court? And am I likely 
 to be imposed upon? For I will not think you can fear 
 my imposing upon you.' 
 
 'Thou art my brother,' said Bridgenorth, 'the blood 
 and bone of my departed saint; and I am determined 
 that I will trust thee in this matter.' 
 
 'Thou dost well,' said Christian; 'and who knows 
 what reward may be in store for thee? I cannot look 
 upon Ahce but it is strongly borne in on my mind that 
 there will be work for a creature so excellent beyond ordi- 
 nary women. Courageous Judith freed Bethulia by her 
 valour, and the comely features of Esther made her a 
 safeguard and a defence to her people in the land of cap- 
 tivity, when she found favour in the sight of King 
 Ahasuerus.' 
 
 'Be it with her as Heaven wills,' said Bridgenorth; 
 'and now tell me what progress there is in the great 
 work.' 
 
 'The people are weary of the iniquity of this court,' 
 
 119
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 said Christian; 'and if this man will continue to reign, 
 it must be by calling to his councils men of another 
 stamp. The alarm excited by the damnable practices of 
 the Papists has called up men's souls, and awakened 
 their eyes, to the dangers of their state. He himself — 
 for he will give up brother and wife to save himself — 
 is not averse to a change of measures; and though we 
 cannot at first see the court purged as with a winnowing 
 fan, yet there will be enough of the good to control the 
 bad — enough of the sober party to compel the grant of 
 that universal toleration for which we have sighed so 
 long, as a maiden for her beloved. Time and opportu- 
 nity will lead the way to more thorough reformation; 
 and that will be done without stroke of sword which our 
 friends failed to establish on a sure fovmdation, even 
 when their victorious blades were in their hands.' 
 
 'May God grant it!' said Bridgenorth; 'for I fear me 
 I should scruple to do aught which should once more 
 unsheath the civil sword ; but welcome all that comes in 
 a peaceful and parHamentary way.' 
 
 'Ay,' said Christian, 'and which will bring with it the 
 bitter amends which our enemies have so long merited 
 at our hands. How long hath our brother's blood cried 
 for vengeance from the altar! Now shall that cruel 
 Frenchwoman find that neither lapse of years, nor her 
 powerful friends, nor the name of Stanley, nor the sover- 
 eignty of Man, shall stop the stern course of the pursuer 
 of blood. Her name shall be struck from the noble, and 
 her heritage shall another take.' 
 
 'Nay, but, brother Christian,' said Bridgenorth, 'art 
 thou not over eager in pursuing this thing? It is thy 
 duty as a Christian to forgive thine enemies.' 
 
 I20
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ' Ay, but not the enemies of Heaven — not those who 
 shed the blood of the saints,' said Christian, his eyes 
 kindling with that vehement and fiery expression which 
 at times gave to his iminteresting countenance the only 
 character of passion which it ever exhibited. 'No, 
 Bridgenorth,' he continued, *I esteem this purpose of 
 revenge holy — I account it a propitiatory sacrifice for 
 what may have been evil in my life. I have submitted 
 to be spurned by the haughty — I have humbled my- 
 self to be as a servant; but in my breast was the proud 
 thought, "I, who do this, do it that I may avenge my 
 brother's blood.'" 
 
 'Still, my brother,' said Bridgenorth, 'although I par- 
 ticipate thy purpose, and have aided thee against this 
 Moabitish woman, I cannot but think thy revenge is 
 more after the law of Moses than after the law of love.' 
 
 'This comes well from thee, Ralph Bridgenorth,' 
 answered Christian — ' from thee, who hast just smiled 
 over the downfall of thine own enemy ! ' 
 
 'If you mean Sir Geoffrey Peveril,' said Bridgenorth, 
 'I smile not on his ruin. It is well he is abased; but if it 
 lies with me, I may humble his pride, but will never ruin 
 his house.' 
 
 'You know your purpose best,' said Christian, 'and 
 I do justice, brother Bridgenorth, to the purity of your 
 principles; but men who see with but worldly eyes would 
 discern little purpose of mercy in the strict magistrate 
 and severe creditor, and such have you been to Peveril.' 
 
 'And, brother Christian,' said Bridgenorth, his colour 
 rising as he spoke, 'neither do I doubt your purpose, nor 
 deny the surprising address with which you have pro- 
 cured such perfect information concerning the purposes 
 
 121
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of yonder woman of Ammon ; but it is free to me to think 
 that, in your intercourse with the court and with cour- 
 tiers, you may, in your carnal and worldly poHcy, sink 
 the value of those spiritual gifts for which you were once 
 so much celebrated among the brethren.' 
 
 'Do not apprehend it,' said Christian, recovering his 
 temper, which had been a Httle ruffled by the previous 
 discussion. ' Let us but work together as heretofore ; and 
 I trust each of us shall be found doing the work of a 
 faithful servant to that good old cause for which we have 
 heretofore drawn the sword.' 
 
 So saying, he took his hat, and bidding Bridgenorth 
 farewell, declared his intention of returning in the even- 
 ing. 
 
 'Fare thee well!' said Bridgenorth; 'to that cause wilt 
 thou find me ever a true and devoted adherent. I will 
 act by that counsel of thine, and will not even ask thee 
 — though it may grieve my heart as a parent — with 
 whom, or where, thou hast entrusted my child. I will 
 try to cut off and cast from me even my right hand and 
 my right eye; but for thee, Christian, if thou dost deal 
 otherwise than prudently and honestly in this matter, 
 it is what God and man will require at thy hand.' 
 
 'Fear not me,' said Christian, hastily, and left the 
 place, agitated by reflections of no pleasant kind. 
 
 'I ought to have persuaded him to return,' he said, 
 as he stepped out into the street. 'Even his hovering 
 in this neighbourhood may spoil the plan on which de- 
 pends the rise of my fortunes — ay, and of his child's. 
 Will men say I have ruined her, when I shall have raised 
 her to the dazzling height of the Duchess of Portsmouth, 
 and perhaps made her mother to a long line of princes? 
 
 122
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Chiflfinch hath vouched for opportunity; and the volup- 
 tuary's fortune depends on his gratifying the taste of 
 his master for variety. If she makes an impression, it 
 must be a deep one; and once seated in his affections, I 
 fear not her being supplanted. What will her father say? 
 WiU he, Hke a prudent man, put his shame in his pocket, 
 because it is well gilded? or will he think it fitting to make 
 a display of moral wrath and parental frenzy? I fear 
 the latter. He has ever kept too strict a course to admit 
 his conniving at such hcense. But what will his anger 
 avail? I need not be seen in the matter; those who are 
 will care little for the resentment of a country Puritan. 
 And, after all, what I am labouring to bring about is 
 best for himself, the wench, and, above all, for me, 
 Edward Christian.' 
 
 With such base opiates did this unhappy wretch 
 stifle his own conscience, while anticipating the disgrace 
 of his friend's family, and the ruin of a near relative, 
 committed in confidence to his charge. The character 
 of this man was of no common description, nor was it by 
 an ordinary road that he had arrived at the present 
 climax of unfeeling and infamous selfishness. 
 
 Edward Christian, as the reader is aware, was the 
 brother of that Wilham Christian who was the principal 
 instrument in deHvering up the Island of Man to the 
 Republic, and who became the victim of the Countess of 
 Derby's revenge on that account. Both had been edu- 
 cated as Puritans, but William was a soldier, which some- 
 what modified the strictness of his religious opinions; 
 Edward, a civiHan, seemed to entertain these principles 
 in the utmost rigour. But it was only seeming. The 
 exactness of deportment which procured him great 
 
 123
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 honour and influence among the 'sober party,' as they 
 were wont to term themselves, covered a voluptuous 
 disposition, the gratification of which was sweet to him 
 as stolen waters, and pleasant as bread eaten in secret. 
 While, therefore, his seeming godliness brought him 
 worldly gain, his secret pleasures compensated for his 
 outward austerity; until the Restoration, and the coun- 
 tess's violent proceedings against his brother, interrupted 
 the course of both. He then fled from his native island, 
 burning with the desire of revenging his brother's death 
 — the only passion foreign to his own gratification which 
 he was ever known to cherish, and which was also at 
 least partly selfish, since it concerned the restoration 
 of his own fortunes. 
 
 He foimd easy access toVilliers,Duke of Buckingham, 
 who, in right of his duchess, claimed such of the Derby 
 estate as had been bestowed by the ParHament on his 
 celebrated father-in-law. Lord Fairfax. His influence at 
 the court of Charles, where a jest was a better plea than 
 a long claim of faithful service, was so successfully exerted 
 as to contribute greatly to the depression of that loyal 
 and ill-rewarded family. But Buckingham was incapable, 
 even for his own interest, of pursuing the steady course 
 which Christian suggested to him; and his vacillation 
 probably saved the remnant of the large estates of the 
 Earl of Derby. 
 
 Meantime, Christian was too useful a follower to be 
 dismissed. From Buckingham and others of that stamp 
 he did not affect to conceal the laxity of his morals ; but, 
 towards the numerous and powerful party to which he 
 belonged, he was able to disguise them by a seeming 
 gravity of exterior, which he never laid aside. Indeed, 
 
 124
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 so wide and absolute was then the distinction betwixt 
 the court and the city, that a man might have for some 
 time played two several parts, as in two different spheres, 
 without its being discovered in the one that he exhibited 
 himself in a different hght in the other. Besides, when 
 a man of talent shows himself an able and useful parti- 
 zan, his party will continue to protect and accredit him, 
 in spite of conduct the most contradictory to their own 
 principles. Some facts are, in such cases, denied, some 
 are glossed over ; and party zeal is permitted to cover at 
 least as many defects as ever doth charity. 
 
 Edward Christian had often need of the partial indul- 
 gence of his friends; but he experienced it, for he was 
 eminently useful. Buckingham, and other courtiers of 
 the same class, however dissolute in their lives, were 
 desirous of keeping some connexion with the Dissenting or 
 Puritanic party, as it was termed ; thereby to strengthen 
 themselves against their opponents at court. In such 
 intrigues, Christian was a notable agent; and at one 
 time had nearly procured an absolute union between a 
 class which professed the most rigid principles of religion 
 and morality and the latitudinarian courtiers, who set 
 all principle at defiance. 
 
 Amidst the vicissitudes of a life of intrigue, during 
 which Buckingham's ambitious schemes and his own re- 
 peatedly sent him across the Atlantic, it was Edward 
 Christian's boast that he never lost sight of his principal 
 object — revenge on the Countess of Derby. He main- 
 tained a close and intimate correspondence with his na- 
 tive island, so as to be perfectly informed of whatever 
 took place there; and he stimulated, on every favourable 
 opportunity, the cupidity of Buckingham to possess him- 
 
 125
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 self of this petty kingdom, by procuring the forfeiture 
 of its present lord. It was not difficult to keep his pa- 
 tron's wild wishes alive on this topic, for his own mer- 
 curial imagination attached particular charms to the 
 idea of becoming a sort of sovereign even in this little 
 island; and he was, like Catiline, as covetous of the pro- 
 perty of others as he was profuse of his own. 
 
 But it was not until the pretended discovery of the 
 Papist Plot that the schemes of Christian could be 
 brought to ripen ; and then, so odious were the Catholics 
 in the eyes of the credulous people of England, that, 
 upon the accusation of the most infamous of mankind — 
 common informers, the scourings of jails, and the refuse 
 of the whipping-post — the most atrocious charges 
 against persons of the highest rank and fairest character 
 were readily received and credited. 
 
 This was a period which Christian did not fail to im- 
 prove. He drew close his intimacy with Bridgenorth, 
 which had indeed never been interrupted, and readily 
 engaged him in his schemes, which, in the eyes of his 
 brother-in-law, were ahke honourable and patriotic. 
 But, while he flattered Bridgenorth with the achieving 
 a complete reformation in the state, checking the pro- 
 fligacy of the court, relieving the consciences of the Dis- 
 senters from the pressure of the penal laws, amending, 
 in fine, the crying grievances of the time — while he 
 showed him also, in prospect, revenge upon the Count- 
 ess of Derby, and a humbling dispensation on the house 
 of Peveril, from whom Bridgenorth had suffered such 
 indignity. Christian did not neglect, in the meanwhile, 
 to consider how he could best benefit himself by the 
 confidence reposed in him by his unsuspicious relation. 
 
 126
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 The extreme beauty of Alice Bridgenorth, the great 
 wealth which time and economy had accumulated on 
 her father, pointed her out as a most desirable match to 
 repair the wasted fortunes of some of the followers of 
 the court; and he flattered himself that he could con- 
 duct such a negotiation so as to be in a high degree con- 
 ducive to his own advantage. He found there would be 
 little difficulty in prevailing on Major Bridgenorth to 
 entrust him with the guardianship of his daughter. That 
 unfortunate gentleman had accustomed himself, from 
 the very period of her birth, to regard the presence of 
 his child as a worldly indulgence too great to be allowed 
 to him; and Christian had little trouble in convincing 
 him that the strong inclination which he felt to bestow 
 her on JuHan Peveril, provided he could be brought over 
 to his own poHtical opinions, was ablameable compromise 
 with his more severe principles. Late circumstances 
 had taught him the incapacity and unfitness of Dame 
 Debbitch for the sole charge of so dear a pledge ; and he 
 readily and thankfully embraced the kind offer of her 
 maternal uncle. Christian, to place Ahce under the pro- 
 tection of a lady of rank in London, whilst he himself 
 was to be engaged in the scenes of bustle and blood 
 which, in common with all good Protestants, he ex- 
 pected were speedily to take place on a general rising of 
 the Papists, unless prevented by the active and ener- 
 getic measures of the good people of England. He even 
 confessed his fears, that his partial regard for Alice's 
 happiness might enervate his efforts in behalf of his 
 country; and Christian had little trouble in eliciting from 
 him a promise that he would forbear to inquire after 
 her for some time. 
 
 127
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Thus certain of being the temporary guardian of his 
 niece for a space long enough, he flattered himself, for 
 the execution of his purpose, Christian endeavoured to 
 pave the way by consulting Chifiinch, whose known 
 skill in court policy qualified him best as an adviser on 
 this occasion. But this worthy person, being, in fact, 
 a purveyor for his Majesty's pleasures, and on that ac- 
 count high in his good graces, thought it fell within the 
 line of his duty to suggest another scheme than that on 
 which Christian consulted him. A woman of such beauty 
 as Alice was described he deemed more worthy to be a 
 partaker of the affections of the merry monarch, whose 
 taste in female beauty was so exquisite, than to be made 
 the wife of some worn-out prodigal of quality. And then, 
 doing perfect justice to his own character, he felt it 
 would not be one whit impaired, while his fortune would 
 be, in every respect, greatly amended, if, after sharing 
 the short reign of the Gwyns, the Davises, the Robertses, 
 and so forth, Alice Bridgenorth should retire from the 
 state of a royal favourite into the humble condition of 
 Mrs. Chiffinch. 
 
 After cautiously sounding Christian, and finding that 
 the near prospect of interest to himself effectually pre- 
 vented his starting at this iniquitous scheme, Chiifinch 
 detailed it to him fully, carefully keeping the final ter- 
 mination out of sight, and talking of the favour to be 
 acquired by the fair Alice as no passing caprice, but the 
 commencement of a reign as long and absolute as that 
 of the Duchess of Portsmouth, of whose avarice and 
 domineering temper Charles was now imderstood to be 
 much tired, though the force of habit rendered him 
 imequal to free himself of her yoke. 
 
 128
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Thus chalked out, the scene prepared was no longer 
 the scheme of a court pander, and a villainous resolution 
 for the ruin of an innocent girl, but became a state in- 
 trigue, for the removal of an obnoxious favourite, and 
 the subsequent change of the King's sentiments upon 
 various material points, in which he was at present in- 
 fluenced by the Duchess of Portsmouth. In this light 
 it was exhibited to the Duke of Buckingham, who, either 
 to sustain his character for daring gallantry or in order 
 to gratify some capricious fancy, had at one time made 
 love to the reigning favourite, and experienced a re- 
 pulse which he had never forgiven. 
 
 But one scheme was too little to occupy the active and 
 enterprising spirit of the duke. An appendix of the Pop- 
 ish Plot was easily so contrived as to involve the Count- 
 ess of Derby, who, from character and religion, was pre- 
 cisely the person whom the credulous part of the public 
 were inclined to suppose the likely accomplice of such 
 a conspiracy. Christian and Bridgenorth undertook the 
 perilous commission of attacking her even in her own 
 little kingdom of Man, and had commissions for this 
 purpose, which were only to be produced in case of their 
 scheme taking effect. 
 
 It miscarried, as the reader is aware, from the count- 
 ess's alert preparations for defence; and neither Chris- 
 tian nor Bridgenorth held it sound policy to practise 
 openly, even under Parliamentary authority, against a 
 lady so little liable to hesitate upon the measures most 
 likely to secure her feudal sovereignty; wisely consider- 
 ing that even the omnipotence, as it has been somewhat 
 too largely styled, of Parliament might fail to relieve 
 them from the personal consequences of a failure. 
 
 28 129
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 On the continent of Britain, however, no opposition 
 was to be feared; and so well was Christian acquainted 
 with all the motions in the interior of the countess's 
 little court, or household, that Peveril would have been 
 arrested the instant he set foot on shore, but for the gale 
 of wind, which obliged the vessel in which he was a 
 passenger to run for Liverpool. Here Christian, under 
 the name of Ganlesse, unexpectedly met with him, and 
 preserved him from the fangs of the well-breathed 
 witnesses of the Plot, with the purpose of securing his 
 despatches, or, if necessary, his person also, in such a 
 manner as to place him at his own discretion — a nar- 
 row and perilous game, which he thought it better, how- 
 ever, to undertake than to permit these subordinate 
 agents, who were always ready to mutiny against all in 
 league with them, to obtain the credit which they must 
 have done by the seizure of the Countess of Derby's 
 papers. It was, besides, essential to Buckingham's 
 schemes that these should not pass into the hands of 
 a pubUc officer like Topham, who, however pompous 
 and stupid, was upright and well-intentioned, imtil 
 they had undergone the revisal of a private commit 
 tee, where something might have probably been sup- 
 pressed, even supposing that nothing had been added. 
 In short. Christian, in carrying on his own separate and 
 peculiar intrigue, by the agency of the Great Popish 
 Plot, as it was called, acted just like an engineer, who 
 derives the principle of motion which turns his machin- 
 ery by means of a steam-engine, or large water-wheel, 
 constructed to drive a separate and larger engine. Ac- 
 cordingly, he was determined that, while he took all the 
 advantage he could from their supposed discoveries, no 
 
 130
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 one should be admitted to tamper or interfere with his 
 own plans of profit and revenge. 
 
 Chiffinch, who, desirous of satisfying himself with his 
 own eyes of that excellent beauty which had been so 
 highly extolled, had gone down to Derbyshire on pur- 
 pose, was infinitely delighted when, during the course 
 of a two hours' sermon at the dissenting chapel in Liver- 
 pool, which afforded him ample leisure for a deliberate 
 survey, he arrived at the conclusion that he had never 
 seen a form or face more captivating. His eyes having 
 confirmed what was told him, he hurried back to the 
 little inn which formed their place of rendezvous, and 
 there awaited Christian and his niece, with a degree of 
 confidence in the success of their project which he had 
 not before entertained ; and with an apparatus of luxury 
 calculated, as he thought, to make a favourable impres- 
 sion on the mind of a rustic girl. He was somewhat sur- 
 prised when, instead of Alice Bridgenorth, to whom he 
 expected that night to have been introduced, he found 
 that Christian was accompanied by JuHan Peveril. It 
 was indeed a severe disappointment, for he had pre- 
 vailed on his own indolence to venture thus far from the 
 court, in order that he might judge with his own para- 
 mount taste, whether Alice was really the prodigy which 
 her uncle's praises had bespoken her, and, as such, a 
 victim worthy of the fate to which she was destined. 
 
 A few words betwixt the worthy confederates deter- 
 mined them on the plan of stripping Peveril of the 
 countess's despatches, Chifl&nch absolutely refusing to 
 take any share in arresting him, as a matter of which 
 his master's approbation might be very uncertain. 
 
 Christian had also his own reasons for abstaining 
 
 131
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 from so decisive a step. It was by no means likely to 
 be agreeable to Bridgenorth, whom it was necessary to 
 keep in good-hmnour; it was not necessary, for the 
 countess's despatches were of far more importance than 
 the person of Julian. Lastly, it was superfluous in this 
 respect also, that Julian was on the road to his father's 
 castle, where it was likely he would be seized, as a matter 
 of course, along with the other suspicious persons who 
 fell under Topham's warrant and the denvmciations of 
 his infamous companions. He, therefore, far from using 
 any violence to Peveril, assumed towards him such a 
 friendly tone as might seem to warn him against receiv- 
 ing damage from others, and vindicate himself from 
 having had any share in depriving him of his charge. 
 This last manoeuvre was achieved by an infusion of a 
 strong narcotic into Julian's wine, under the influence 
 of which he slumbered so soundly that the confederates 
 were easily able to accomplish their inhospitable pur- 
 pose. 
 
 The events of the succeeding days are already known 
 to the reader. Chifi&nch set forward to return to London 
 with the packet, which it was desirable should be in 
 Buckingham's hands as soon as possible; while Christian 
 went to Moultrassie, to receive Alice from her father and 
 convey her safely to London — his accomplice agreeing 
 to defer his curiosity to see more of her until they should 
 have arrived in that city. 
 
 Before parting with Bridgenorth, Christian had ex- 
 erted his utmost address to prevail on him to remain 
 at Moultrassie : he had even overstepped the bounds of 
 prudence, and, by his urgency, awakened some suspi- 
 cions of an indefinite nature, which he found it difficult 
 
 132
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 to allay. Bridgenorth, therefore, followed his brother- 
 in-law to London ; and the reader has already been made 
 acquainted with the arts which Christian used to prevent 
 his further interference with the destinies of his daughter 
 or the unhallowed schemes of her ill-chosen guardian. 
 Still Christian, as he strode along the street in profound 
 reflection, saw that his undertaking was attended with 
 a thousand perils; and the drops stood like beads on his 
 brow when he thought of the presumptuous levity and 
 fickle temper of Buckingham — the frivolity and in- 
 temperance of Chiffinch — the suspicions of the melan- 
 choly and bigoted, yet sagacious and honest, Bridge- 
 north. 'Had I,' he thought, 'but tools fitted, each to 
 their portion of the work, how easily could I heave 
 asunder and disjoint the strength that opposes me ! But 
 with these frail and insufficient implements, I am in 
 daily, hourly, momentary danger that one lever or other 
 gives way, and that the whole ruin recoils on my own 
 head. And yet, were it not for those failings I complain 
 of, how were it possible for me to have acquired that 
 power over them all which constitutes them my passive 
 tools, even when they seem most to exert their own free 
 will? Yes, the bigots have some right when they afiirm 
 that all is for the best.' 
 
 It may seem strange that, amidst the various subjects 
 of Christian's apprehension, he was never visited by any 
 long or permanent doubt that the virtue of his niece 
 might prove the shoal on which his voyage should be 
 wrecked. But he was an arrant rogue, as well as a har- 
 dened libertine; and, in both characters, a professed dis- 
 beHever in the virtue of the fair sex.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 As for John Dryden's Charles, I own that king 
 Was never any very mighty thing; 
 And yet he was a devilish honest fellow — 
 Enjoy 'd his friend and bottle, and got mellow. 
 
 Dr. Wolcot. 
 
 London, the grand central point of intrigues of every 
 description, had now attracted within its dark and sha- 
 dowy region the greater number of the personages whom 
 we have had occasion to mention. 
 
 Julian Peveril, amongst others of the dramatis per- 
 sonce, had arrived, and taken up his abode in a remote 
 inn in the suburbs. His business, he conceived, was to 
 remain incognito until he should have communicated 
 in private with the friends who were most likely to lend 
 assistance to his parents, as well as to his patroness, in 
 their present situation of doubt and danger. Amongst 
 these, the most powerful was the Duke of Ormond, whose 
 faithful services, high rank, and acknowledged worth 
 and virtue, still preserved an ascendency in that very 
 court where, in general, he was regarded as out of favour. 
 Indeed, so much consciousness did Charles display in 
 his demeanour towards that celebrated noble and serv- 
 ant of his father, that Buckingham once took the free- 
 dom to ask the King, whether the Duke of Ormond had 
 lost his Majesty's favour or his Majesty the duke's, 
 since, whenever they chanced to meet, the King ap- 
 peared the more embarrassed of the two. But it was not 
 Peveril 's good fortune to obtain the advice or counte- 
 
 134
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 nance of this distinguished person. His Grace of Ormond 
 was not at that time in London. 
 
 The letter about the delivery of which the countess 
 had seemed most anxious after that to the Duke of Or- 
 mond was addressed to Captain Barstow (a Jesuit, whose 
 real name was Fenwicke), to be found, or at least to be 
 heard of, in the house of one Martin Christal in the 
 Savoy. To this place hastened Peveril, upon learning 
 the absence of the Duke of Ormond. He was not igno- 
 rant of the danger which he personally incurred by thus 
 becoming a medium of communication betwixt a Popish 
 priest and a suspected Catholic. But when he undertook 
 the perilous commission of his patroness, he had done so 
 frankly, and with the unreserved resolution of serving 
 her in the manner in which she most desired her affairs 
 to be conducted. Yet he could not forbear some secret 
 apprehension when he felt himself engaged in the laby- 
 rinth of passages and galleries which led to different ob- 
 scure sets of apartments in the ancient building termed 
 the Savoy. 
 
 This antiquated and almost ruinous pile occupied a 
 part of the site of the public offices in the Strand com- 
 monly called Somerset House. The Savoy had been 
 formerly a palace, and took its name from an Earl of 
 Savoy, by whom it was founded. It had been the habi- 
 tation of John of Gaunt and various persons of distinc- 
 tion; had become a convent, an hospital, and finally, 
 in Charles II's time, a waste of dilapidated buildings 
 and ruinous apartments, inhabited chiefly by those who 
 had some connexion with, or dependence upon, the 
 neighbouring palace of Somerset House, which, more for- 
 tunate than the Savoy, had still retained its royal title, 
 
 ^35
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and was the abode of a part of the court, and occasion- 
 ally of the King himself, who had apartments there. 
 
 It was not without several inquiries, and more than 
 one mistake, that, at the end of a long and dusky pas- 
 sage, composed of boards so wasted by time that they 
 threatened to give way under his feet, Julian at length 
 found the name of Martin Christal, broker and ap- 
 praiser, upon a shattered door. He was about to knock, 
 when some one pulled his cloak; and looking round, to 
 his great astonishment, which indeed almost amounted 
 to fear, he saw the little mute damsel, who had accom- 
 panied him for a part of the way on his voyage from 
 the Isle of Man. ' Fenella ! ' he exclaimed, forgetting that 
 she could neither hear nor reply — ' Fenella ! Can this 
 be you? ' 
 
 Fenella, assuming the air of warning and authority 
 which she had heretofore endeavoured to adopt towards 
 him, interposed betwixt Julian and the door at which he 
 was about to knock, pointed with her finger towards it 
 in a prohibiting manner, and at the same time bent her 
 brows and shook her head sternly. 
 
 After a moment's consideration, JuHan could place 
 but one interpretation upon Fenella's appearance and 
 conduct, and that was, by supposing her lady had come 
 up to London, and had dispatched this mute attendant, 
 as a confidential person, to apprise him of some change 
 of her intended operations, which might render the de- 
 livery of her letters to Barstow, alias Fenwicke, super- 
 fluous, or perhaps dangerous. He made signs to Fenella, 
 demanding to know whether she had any commission 
 from the countess. She nodded. 'Had she any letter?' 
 he continued, by the same mode of enquiry. She shook 
 
 136
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 her head impatiently, and, walking hastily along the 
 passage, made a signal to him to follow. He did so, hav- 
 ing little doubt that he was about to be conducted into 
 the countess's presence; but his surprise, at first excited 
 by Fenella's appearance, was increased by the rapidity 
 and ease with which she seemed to track the dusky and 
 decayed mazes of the dilapidated Savoy, equal to that 
 with which he had seen her formerly lead the way 
 through the gloomy vaults of Castle Rushin, in the Isle 
 of Man. 
 
 When he recollected, however, that Fenella had ac- 
 companied the countess on a long visit to London, it 
 appeared not improbable that she might then have 
 acquired this local knowledge which seemed so accurate. 
 Many foreigners, dependent on the Queen or Queen 
 Dowager, had apartments in the Savoy. Many Catholic 
 priests also found refuge in its recesses, under various 
 disguises, and in defiance of the severity of the laws 
 against Popery. What was more likely than that the 
 Countess of Derby, a Catholic and a Frenchwoman, 
 should have had secret commissions among such people; 
 and that the execution of such should be entrusted, at 
 least occasionally, to Fenella? 
 
 Thus reflecting, Julian continued to follow her light 
 and active footsteps as she gHded from the Strand to 
 Spring Garden, and thence into the Park. 
 
 It was still early in the morning, and the Mall was 
 untenanted, save by a few walkers, who frequented these 
 shades for the wholesome purposes of air and exercise. 
 Splendour, gaiety, and display did not come forth, at 
 that period, until noon was approaching. All readers 
 have heard that the whole space where the Horse Guards 
 
 137
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 are now built made, in the time of Charles II, a part of 
 St. James's Park; and that the old building, now called 
 the Treasury, was a part of the ancient palace of White- 
 hall, which was thus immediately connected with the 
 Park. The canal had been constructed by the celebrated 
 Le Notre, for the purpose of draining the Park; and it 
 communicated with the Thames by a decoy, stocked with 
 a quantity of the rarer waterfowl. It was towards this 
 decoy that Fenella bent her way with unabated speed; 
 and they were approaching a group of two or three gen- 
 tlemen who sauntered by its banks, when, on looking 
 closely at him who appeared to be the chief of the party, 
 Julian felt his heart beat uncommonly thick, as if con- 
 scious of approacliing some one of the highest conse- 
 quence. 
 
 The person whom he looked upon was past the middle 
 age of life, of a dark complexion, corresponding with the 
 long, black, full-bottomed periwig which he wore instead 
 of his own hair. His dress was plain black velvet, with a 
 diamond star, however, on his cloak, which hung care- 
 lessly over one shoulder. His features, strongly lined, 
 even to harshness, had yet an expression of dignified 
 good-humour; he was well and strongly built, walked 
 upright and yet easily, and had upon the whole the air 
 of a person of the highest consideration. He kept rather 
 in advance of his companions, but turned and spoke to 
 them, from time to time, with much affabihty, and 
 probably with some liveliness, judging by the smiles, 
 and sometimes the scarce restrained laughter, by which 
 some of his sallies were received by his attendants. They 
 also wore only morning dresses ; but their looks and man- 
 ner were those of men of rank, in presence of one in sta- 
 
 138
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 tion still more elevated. They shared the attention of 
 their principal in common with seven or eight Uttle black, 
 curly-haired spaniels, or rather, as they are now called, 
 cockers, which attended their master as closely, and 
 perhaps with as deep sentiments of attachment, as the 
 bipeds of the group; and whose gambols, which seemed 
 to afford him much amusement, he sometimes checked, 
 and sometimes encouraged. In addition to this pastime, 
 a lackey, or groom, was also in attendance, with one or 
 two Httle baskets and bags, from which the gentleman 
 we have described took, from time to time, a handful of 
 seeds, and amused himself with throwing them to the 
 waterfowl. 
 
 This, the King's favourite occupation, together with 
 his remarkable countenance and the deportment of the 
 rest of the company towards him, satisfied JuHan Peveril 
 that he was approaching, perhaps indecorously, near 
 to the person of Charles Stuart, the second of that 
 unhappy name. 
 
 While he hesitated to follow his dumb guide any 
 nearer, and felt the embarrassment of being unable to 
 communicate to her his repugnance to further intrusion, 
 a person in the royal retinue touched a light a.nd lively 
 air on the flageolet, at a signal from the King, who de- 
 sired to have some tune repeated which had struck him 
 in the theatre on the preceding evening. While the good- 
 natured monarch marked time with his foot and with 
 the motion of his hand, Fenella continued to approach 
 him, and threw into her manner the appearance of one 
 who was attracted, as it were in spite of herself, by the 
 sounds of the instrument. 
 
 Anxious to know how this was to end, and astonished 
 
 139
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to see the dumb girl imitate so accurately the mamier of 
 one who actually heard the musical notes, Peveril also 
 drew near, though at somewhat greater distance. 
 
 The King looked good-humouredly at both, as if he 
 admitted their musical enthusiasm as an excuse for their 
 intrusion ; but his eyes became riveted on Fenella, whose 
 face and appearance, although rather singular than 
 beautiful, had something in them wild, fantastic, and, 
 as being so, even captivating to an eye which had been 
 gratified perhaps to satiety with the ordinary forms of 
 female beauty. She did not appear to notice how closely 
 she was observed ; but, as if acting under an irresistible 
 impulse, derived from the sounds to which she seemed to 
 listen, she undid the bodkin round which her long tresses 
 were winded, and flinging them suddenly over her slender 
 person, as if using them as a natural veil, she began to 
 dance, with infinite grace and agility, to the tune which 
 the flageolet played. 
 
 Peveril lost almost liis sense of the King's presence, 
 when he observed with what wonderful grace and agility 
 Fenella kept time to notes which could only be known 
 to her by the motions of the musician's fingers. He had 
 heard, indeed, among other prodigies, of a person in 
 Fenella's unhappy situation acquiring, by some unac- 
 countable and mysterious tact, the power of acting as 
 an instrumental musician, nay, becoming so accurate a 
 performer as to be capable of leading a musical band; 
 and he had also heard of deaf and dumb persons dancing 
 with sufficient accuracy, by observing the motions of 
 their partner. But FeneUa's performance seemed more 
 wonderful than either, since the musician was guided by 
 his written notes, and the dancer by the motions of the 
 
 140
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 others; whereas Fenella had no intimation, save what 
 she seemed to gather, with infinite accuracy, by observ- 
 ing the motion of the artist's fingers on his small instru- 
 ment. 
 
 As for the King, who was ignorant of the particular 
 circumstances which rendered Fenella's performance 
 almost marvellous, he was contented, at her first com- 
 mencement, to authorise what seemed to him the frolic 
 of this singular-looking damsel by a good-humoured 
 smile; but when he perceived the exquisite truth and 
 justice, as well as the wonderful combination of grace 
 and agility, with which she executed to his favourite air 
 a dance which was perfectly new to him, Charles turned 
 his mere acquiescence into something like enthusiastic 
 applause. He bore time to her motions with the move- 
 ment of his foot, applauded with head and with hand, 
 and seemed, like herself, carried away by the enthusiasm 
 of the gestic art. 
 
 After a rapid yet graceful succession of entrechats, 
 Fenella introduced a slow movement, which terminated 
 the dance; then dropping a profound curtsy, she con- 
 tinued to stand motionless before the King, her arms 
 folded on her bosom, her head stooped, and her eyes cast 
 down, after the manner of an Oriental slave; while 
 through the misty veil of her shadowy locks it might be 
 observed that the colour which exercise had called to her 
 cheeks was dying fast away, and resigning them to their 
 native dusky hue. 
 
 'By my honour,' exclaimed the King, 'she is like a 
 fairy who trips it in moonlight. There must be more of 
 air and fire than of earth in her composition. It is well 
 poor Nelly Gwyn saw her not, or she would have died of 
 
 141
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 grief and envy. Come, gentlemen, which of you con- 
 trived this pretty piece of morning pastime? ' 
 
 The courtiers looked at each other, but none of them 
 felt authorised to claim the merit of a service so agree- 
 able. 
 
 'We must ask the quick-eyed nymph herself, then,' 
 said the King; and, looking at Fenella, he added, 'Tell 
 us, my pretty one, to whom we owe the pleasure of seeing 
 you. I suspect the Duke of Buckingham; for this is 
 exactly a tour de son metier.'' 
 
 Fenella, on observing that the King addressed her, 
 bowed low and shook her head, in signal that she did not 
 understand what he said. 'Odds-fish, that is true,' said 
 the King; 'she must perforce be a foreigner: her com- 
 plexion and agility speak it. France or Italy has had the 
 moulding of these elastic limbs, dark cheek, and eye of 
 fire.' He then put to her in French, and again in Italian, 
 the question, 'By whom she had been sent hither?' 
 
 At the second repetition, Fenella threw back her veil- 
 ing tresses, so as to show the melancholy which sat on 
 her brow; while she sadly shook her head, and intimated 
 by imperfect muttering, but of the softest and most 
 plaintive kind, her organic deficiency. 
 
 'Is it possible Nature can have made such a fault?' 
 said Charles. 'Can she have left so curious a piece as 
 thou art without the melody of voice, whilst she has 
 made thee so exquisitely sensible to the beauty of soimd? 
 Stay — what means this? and what young fellow are 
 you bringing up there? Oh, the master of the show, I 
 suppose. Friend,' he added, addressing himself to Pev- 
 eril, who, on the signal of Fenella, stepped forward 
 almost instinctively and kneeled down, 'we thank thee 
 
 142
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 for the pleasure of this morning. My lord marquis, you 
 rooked me at piquet last night, for which disloyal deed 
 thou shalt now atone, by giving a couple of pieces to this 
 honest youth and five to the girl.' 
 
 As the nobleman drew out his purse and came forward 
 to perform the King's generous commission, JuUan felt 
 some embarrassment ere he was able to explain that he 
 had no title to be benefited by the young person's per- 
 formance, and that his Majesty had mistaken his char- 
 acter. 
 
 'And who art thou, then, my friend?' said Charles; 
 'but, above all, and particularly, who is this dancing 
 n3mciph, whom thou standest waiting on like an attend- 
 ant faun?' 
 
 'The young person is a retainer of the Countess-Dow- 
 ager of Derby, so please your Majesty,' said Peveril, in a 
 low tone of voice; ' and I am — ' 
 
 'Hold — hold,' said the King; 'this is a dance to 
 another tune, and not fit for a place so pubHc. Hark 
 thee, friend, do thou and the young woman follow Emp- 
 son where he will conduct thee. Empson, carry them — ■ 
 hark in thy ear.' 
 
 'May it please your Majesty, I ought to say,' said 
 Peveril, ' that I am guiltless of any purpose of intru- 
 sion — ' 
 
 'Now, a plague on him who can take no hint,' said the 
 King, cutting short his apology. 'Odds-fish, man, there 
 are times when civility is the greatest impertinence in 
 the world. Do thou follow Empson, and amuse thyself 
 for an half hour's space with the fairy's company, till we 
 shall send for you.' 
 
 Charles spoke this not without casting an anxious 
 
 143
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 eye around, and in a tone which intimated apprehension 
 of being overheard. Julian could only bow obedience and 
 follow Empson, who was the same person that played 
 so rarely on the flageolet. 
 
 When they were out of sight of the King and his 
 party, the musician wished to enter into conversation 
 with his companions, and addressed himself first to Fen- 
 ella, with a broad compliment of 'By the mass, ye dance 
 rarely: ne'er a slut on the boards shows such a shank! I 
 would be content to play to you till my throat were as 
 dry as my whistle. Come, be a Httle free; Old Rowley 
 wiU not quit the Park till nine. I will carry you to Spring 
 Gardens, and bestow sweet cakes and a quart of Rhenish 
 on both of you; and we'U be cameradoes. What the 
 devil ! no answer? How 's this, brother? Is this neat 
 wench of yours deaf or dumb, or both? I should laugh 
 at that, and she trip it so well to the flageolet.' 
 
 To rid himself of this fellow's discourse, Peveril an- 
 swered him in French that he was a foreigner and spoke 
 no English; glad to escape, though at the expense of 
 a fiction, from the additional embarrassment of a fool, 
 who was likely to ask more questions than his own wis- 
 dom might have enabled him to answer. 
 
 'Stranger — that means stranger,' muttered their 
 guide; 'more French dogs and jades come to lick the 
 good English butter off our bread, or perhaps an ItaUan 
 puppet-show. Well, if it were not that they have a mor- 
 tal enmity to the whole gamut, this were enough to 
 make any honest fellow turn Puritan. But if I am to 
 play to her at the Duchess's, I'll be d — d but I put her 
 out in the tune, just to teach her to have the impudence 
 to come to England and to speak no English.' 
 
 144
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Having muttered to himself this truly British resolu- 
 tion, the musician walked briskly on towards a large 
 house near the bottom of St. James's Street, and entered 
 the court, by a grated door, from the Park, of which the 
 mansion commanded an extensive prospect. 
 
 Peveril, finding himself in front of a handsome portico, 
 under which opened a stately pair of folding-doors, was 
 about to ascend the steps that led to the main entrance, 
 when his guide seized him by the arm, exclaiming, 'Hold, 
 Mounseer ! What ! you '11 lose nothing, I see, for want of 
 courage; but you must keep the back way, for all your 
 fine doublet. Here it is not, "Knock and it shall be 
 opened"; but may be instead, "Knock and you shall be 
 knocked.'" 
 
 Suffering himself to be guided by Empson, Julian 
 deviated from the principal door to one which opened, 
 with less ostentation, in an angle of the courtyard. On a 
 modest tap from the flute-player, admittance was af- 
 forded him and his companions by a footman, who con- 
 ducted them through a variety of stone passages to a 
 very handsome summer parlour, where a lady, or some- 
 thing resembling one, dressed in a style of extra elegance, 
 was trifling with a play-book while she finished her 
 chocolate. It would not be easy to describe her, but by 
 weighing her natural good qualities against the affecta- 
 tions which counterbalanced them. She would have been 
 handsome, but for rouge and minauderie ; would have 
 been civil, but for overstrained airs of patronage and 
 condescension; would have had an agreeable voice, had 
 she spoken in her natural tone; and fine eyes, had she 
 not made such desperate hard use of them. She could 
 only spoil a pretty ankle by too liberal display; but her 
 
 88 145
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 shape, though she could not yet be thirty years old, had 
 the embonpoint which might have suited better with ten 
 years more advanced. She pointed Empson to a seat 
 with the air of a duchess, and asked him, languidly, 
 how he did this age, that she had not seen him, and what 
 folks these were he had brought with him. 
 
 'Foreigners, madam — d — d foreigners,' answered 
 Empson — * starving beggars, that our old friend has 
 picked up in the Park this morning; the wench dances, 
 and the fellow plays on the Jew's-trump, I believe. On 
 my life, madam, I begin to be ashamed of Old Rowley; 
 I must discard him, unless he keeps better company in 
 future.' 
 
 'Fie, Empson,' said the lady; 'consider it is our duty 
 to coimtenance him, and keep him afloat; and indeed I 
 always make a principle of it. Hark ye, he comes not 
 hither this morning?' 
 
 *He will be here,' answered Empson, 'in the walking 
 of a minuet.' 
 
 'My God!' exclaimed the lady, with unaffected 
 alarm ; and starting up with utter neglect of her usual 
 airs of graceful languor, she tripped as swiftly as a milk- 
 maid into an adjoining apartment, where they heard 
 presently a few words of eager and animated discus- 
 sion. 
 
 'Something to be put out of the way, I suppose,' said 
 Empson. ' Well for madam I gave her the hint. There he 
 goes, the happy swain.' 
 
 Julian was so situated that he could, from the same 
 casement through which Empson was peeping, observe a 
 man in a laced roquelaure, and carrying his rapier under 
 his arm, glide from the door by which he had himself 
 
 146
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 entered, and out of the court, keeping as much as possi- 
 ble under the shade of the buildings. 
 
 The lady reentered at this moment, and observing 
 how Empson's eyes were directed, said, with a slight 
 appearance of hurry, 'A gentleman of the Duchess of 
 Portsmouth's with a billet; and so tiresomely pressing for 
 an answer, that I was obhged to write without my dia- 
 mond pen. I have daubed my fingers, I daresay,' she 
 added, looking at a very pretty hand, and presently 
 after dipping her fingers in a little silver vase of rose- 
 water. 'But that little exotic monster of yours, Empson, 
 I hope she really understands no English? On my life, 
 she coloured. Is she such a rare dancer? I must see her 
 dance, and hear him play on the Jew's-harp.' 
 
 'Dance!' replied Empson; 'she danced well enough 
 when / played to her. I can make anything dance. Old 
 Counsellor Clubfoot danced when he had a fit of the 
 gout; you have seen no such pas seul in the theatre. I 
 would engage to make the Archbishop of Canterbury 
 dance the hays like a Frenchman. There is nothing in 
 dancing; it all lies in the music. Rowley does not know 
 that now. He saw this poor wench dance ; and thought 
 so much on't, when it was all along of me. I would have 
 defied her to sit still. And Rowley gives her the credit 
 of it, and five pieces to boot; and I have only two for my 
 morning's work ! ' 
 
 'True, Master Empson,' said the lady; 'but you are of 
 the family, though in a lower station ; and you ought to 
 consider — ' 
 
 'By G — , madam,' answered Empson, 'all I consider 
 is, that I play the best flageolet in England; and that 
 they can no more supply my place, if they were to dis- 
 
 147
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 card me, than they could fill Thames from Fleet 
 Ditch.' 
 
 * Well, Master Empson, I do not dispute but you are a 
 man of talents,' replied the lady; 'still I say, mind the 
 main chance ; you please the ear to-day, another has the 
 advantage of you to-morrow.' 
 
 'Never, mistress, while ears have the heavenly power 
 of distinguishing one note from another.' 
 
 'Heavenly power, say you, Master Empson?' said the 
 lady. 
 
 *Ay, madam, heavenly; for some very neat verses 
 which we had at our festival say. 
 
 What know we of the blest above, 
 But that they sing and that they love? 
 
 It is Master Waller wrote them, as I think; who, upon 
 my word, ought to be encouraged.' 
 
 'And so should you, my dear Empson,' said the dame, 
 yawning, ' were it only for the honour you do to your own 
 profession. But, in the meantime, will you ask these 
 people to have some refreshment? and will you take 
 some yourself? The chocolate is that which the Ambas- 
 sador Portuguese fellow brought over to the Queen.' 
 
 'If it be genuine,' said the musician. 
 
 'How, sir!' said the fair one, half rising from her pile 
 of cushions — 'not genuine, and in this house! Let me 
 understand you. Master Empson. I think, when I first 
 saw you, you scarce knew chocolate from coffee.' 
 
 'By G — , madam,' answered the flageolet-player, 
 'you are perfectly right. And how can I show better 
 how much I have profited by your ladyship's excellent 
 cheer, except by being critical?' 
 
 148
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *You stand excused, Master Empson/ said the petite 
 maitresse, sinking gently back on the downy couch, from 
 which a momentary irritation had startled her. * I think 
 the chocolate will please you, though scarce equal to 
 what we had from the Spanish resident Mendoza. But 
 we must offer these strange people something. Will 
 you ask them if they would have coffee and chocolate, 
 or cold wild-fowl, fruit and wine? They must be treated, 
 so as to show them where they are, since here they are.' 
 
 * Unquestionably, madam,' said Empson; 'but I have 
 just at this instant forgot the French for chocolate, hot 
 bread, coffee, game, and drinkables.' 
 
 * It is odd,' said the lady ; ' and I have forgot my French 
 and Italian at the same moment. But it signifies little : I 
 will order the things to be brought, and they will remem- 
 ber the names of them themselves.' 
 
 Empson laughed loudly at this jest, and pawned his 
 soul that the cold sirloin, which entered immediately 
 after, was the best emblem of roast-beef all the world 
 over. Plentiful refreshments were offered to all the party, 
 of which both Fenella and Peveril partook. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the flageolet-player drew closer to 
 the side of the lady of the mansion; their intimacy was 
 cemented, and their spirits set afloat, by a glass of 
 liqueur, which gave them additional confidence in dis- 
 cussing the characters as well of the superior attendants 
 of the court as of the inferior rank, to which they them- 
 selves might be supposed to belong. 
 
 The lady, indeed, during this conversation, frequently 
 exerted her complete and absolute superiority over Mas- 
 ter Empson; in which that musical gentleman humbly 
 acquiesced whenever the circumstance was recalled to 
 
 149
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 his attention, whether in the way of blunt contradiction, 
 sarcastic insinuation, downright assumption of higher im- 
 portance, or in any of the other various modes by which 
 such superiority is usually asserted and maintained. But 
 the lady's obvious love of scandal was the lure which 
 very soon brought her again down from the dignified 
 port which for a moment she assumed, and placed her 
 once more on a gossiping level with her companion. 
 
 Their conversation was too trivial, and too much 
 alhed to petty court intrigues with which he was totally 
 unacquainted, to be in the least interesting to Julian. 
 As it continued for more than an hour, he soon ceased to 
 pay the least attention to a discourse consisting of nick- 
 names, patchwork, and innuendo; and employed himself 
 in reflecting on his own complicated affairs, and the 
 probable issue of his approaching audience with the 
 King, which had been brought about by so singular an 
 agent, and by means so unexpected. He often looked to 
 his guide, Fenella, and observed that she was, for the 
 greater part of the time, drowned in deep and abstracted 
 meditation. But three or four times — and it was when 
 the assumed airs and affected importance of the musi- 
 cian and their hostess rose to the most extravagant 
 excess — he observed that Fenella dealt askance on 
 them some of those bitter and almost blighting elfin 
 looks which in the Isle of Man were held to imply con- 
 temptuous execration. There was something in all her 
 manner so extraordinary, joined to her sudden appear- 
 ance, and her demeanour in the King's presence, so 
 oddly, yet so well, contrived to procure him a private 
 audience — which he might, by graver means, have 
 sought in vain — '■ that it almost justified the idea, though 
 
 150
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 he smiled at it internally, that the little mute agent was 
 aided in her machinations by the kindred imps to whom, 
 according to Manx superstition, her genealogy was to be 
 traced. 
 
 Another idea sometimes occurred to Julian, though 
 he rejected the question as being equally wild with those 
 doubts which referred Fenella to a race different from 
 that of mortals — ' Was she really aiJ&icted with those 
 organical imperfections which had always seemed to 
 sever her from humanity? If not, what could be the 
 motives of so young a creature practising so dreadful a 
 penance for such an unremitted term of years? And 
 how formidable must be the strength of mind which 
 could condemn itself to so terrific a sacrifice, how deep 
 and strong the purpose for which it was undertaken ! ' 
 
 But a brief recollection of past events enabled him to 
 dismiss this conjecture as altogether wild and visionary. 
 He had but to call to memory the various stratagems 
 practised by his light-hearted companion, the young 
 Earl of Derby, upon this forlorn girl, the conversations 
 held in her presence, in which the character of a creature 
 so irritable and sensitive upon all occasions was freely, 
 and sometimes satirically, discussed, without her express- 
 ing the least acquaintance with what was going forward 
 to convince him that so deep a deception could never 
 have been practised for so many years by a being of a 
 turn of mind so peculiarly jealous and irascible. 
 
 He renounced, therefore, the idea, and turned his 
 thoughts to his own affairs and his approaching interview 
 with his sovereign, in which meditation we propose to 
 leave him imtil we briefly review the changes which had 
 taken place in the situation of Alice Bridgenorth.
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 f I fear the devil worst when gown and cassock, 
 Or, in the lack of them, old Calvin's cloak. 
 Conceals his cloven hoof. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Julian Peveril had scarce set sail for Whitehaven, 
 when Alice Bridgenorth and her governante, at the 
 hasty command of her father, were embarked with equal 
 speed and secrecy on board of a bark bound for Liver- 
 pool. Christian accompanied them on their voyage, as 
 the friend to whose guardianship Alice was to be con- 
 signed during any future separation from her father, and 
 whose amusing conversation, joined to his pleasing 
 though cold manners, as well as his near relationship, 
 induced Alice, in her forlorn situation, to consider her 
 fate as fortunate in having such a guardian. 
 
 At Liverpool, as the reader already knows. Christian 
 took the first overt step in the villainy which he had con- 
 trived against the innocent girl, by exposing her at a 
 meeting-house to the unhallowed gaze of Chiffinch, in 
 order to convince him she was possessed of such uncom- 
 mon beauty as might well deserve the infamous promo- 
 tion to which they meditated to raise her. 
 
 Highly satisfied with her personal appearance, Chif- 
 finch was no less so with the sense and dehcacy of her 
 conversation, when he met her in company with her 
 uncle afterwards in London, The simplicity, and at the 
 same time the spirit, of her remarks made him regard 
 her as his scientific attendant the cook might have done 
 
 152
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 a newly invented sauce, sufficiently piquante in its quali- 
 ties to awaken the jaded appetite of a cloyed and gorged 
 epicure. 'She was,' he said and swore, 'the very corner- 
 stone on which, with proper management, and with his 
 instructions, a few honest fellows might build a court 
 fortune.' 
 
 That the necessary introduction might take place, 
 the confederates judged fit she should be put under the 
 charge of an experienced lady, whom some called Mis- 
 tress Chiffinch, and others Chiffinch's mistress — one of 
 those obliging creatures who are willing to discharge all 
 the duties of a wife without the inconvenient and indis- 
 soluble ceremony. 
 
 It was one, and not perhaps the least, prejudicial con- 
 sequence of the license of that ill-governed time, that 
 the bounds betwixt virtue and vice were so far smoothed 
 down and levelled, that the frail wife, or the tender 
 friend who was no wife, did not necessarily lose their 
 place in society; but, on the contrary, if they moved 
 in the higher circles, were permitted and encouraged to 
 mingle with women whose rank was certain and whose 
 reputation was untainted. 
 
 A regular liaison, like that of Chiffinch and his fair 
 one, inferred little scandal; and such was his influence, as 
 prime minister of his master's pleasures, that, as Charles 
 himself expressed it, the lady whom we introduced to 
 our readers in the last chapter had obtained a brevet 
 commission to rank as a married woman. And to do the 
 gentle dame justice, no wife could have been more atten- 
 tive to forward his plans, or more liberal in disposing of 
 his income. 
 . She inhabited a set of apartments called Chiffinch's — 
 
 153
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the scene of many an intrigue, both of love and politics; 
 and where Charies often held his private parties for the 
 evening, when, as frequently happened, the ill-humour 
 of the Duchess of Portsmouth, his reigning sultana, 
 prevented his supping with her. The hold which such 
 an arrangement gave a man like Chiffinch, used as he 
 well knew how to use it, made him of too much conse- 
 quence to be sUghted even by the first persons in the 
 state, unless they stood aloof from all manner of politics 
 and court intrigue. 
 
 In the charge of Mistress Chiffinch, and of him whose 
 name she bore, Edward Christian placed the daughter 
 of his sister and of his confiding friend, calmly contem- 
 plating her ruin as an event certain to follow; and hoping 
 to ground upon it his own chance of a more assured for- 
 tune than a life spent in intrigue had hitherto been able 
 to procure for him. 
 
 The innocent Alice, without being able to discover 
 what was wrong either in the scenes of unusual luxury 
 with which she was surrounded or in the manners of her 
 hostess, which, both from nature and policy, were kind 
 and caressing, felt nevertheless an instinctive apprehen- 
 sion that all was not right — a feeling in the human 
 mind allied, perhaps, to that sense of danger which ani- 
 mals exhibit when placed in the vicinity of the natural 
 enemies of their race, and which makes birds cower 
 when the hawk is in the air, and beasts tremble when 
 the tiger is abroad in the desert. There was a heaviness 
 at her heart which she could not dispel; and the few 
 hours which she had already spent at Chiffinch 's were 
 like those passed in a prison by one unconscious of the 
 cause or event of his captivity. It was the third morning 
 
 154
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 after her arrival in London that the scene took place 
 which we now recur to. 
 
 The impertinence and vulgarity of Empson, which 
 was permitted to him as an unrivalled performer upon 
 his instrument, were exhausting themselves at the ex- 
 pense of all other musical professors, and Mistress 
 Chiffinch was listening with careless indifference, when 
 some one was heard speaking loudly, and with anima- 
 tion, in the inner apartment. 
 
 * O gemini and gilliflower water ! ' exclaimed the dam- 
 sel, startled out of her fine airs into her natural vulgarity 
 of exclamation, and running to the door of communica- 
 tion, 'if he has not come back again after all ! and if Old 
 Rowley — ' 
 
 A tap at the farther and opposite door here arrested 
 her attention; she quitted the handle of that which she 
 was about to open as speedily as if it had burnt her fin- 
 gers, and, moving back towards her couch, asked, 'Who 
 is there?' 
 
 'Old Rowley himself, madam,' said the King, enter- 
 ing the apartment with his usual air of easy compo- 
 sure. 
 
 *0 crimini! your Majesty! I thought — ' 
 
 'That I was out of hearing, doubtless,' said the King; 
 'and spoke of me as folks speak of absent friends. 
 Make no apology. I think I have heard ladies say of 
 their lace, that a rent is better than a darn. Nay, be 
 seated. Where is Chiffinch?' 
 
 'He is down at York House, your Majesty,' said the 
 dame, recovering, though with no small difficulty, the 
 calm affectation of her usual demeanour. 'Shall I send 
 your Majesty's commands? ' 
 
 IS5
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'I will wait his return/ said the King. 'Permit me to 
 taste your chocolate.' 
 
 'There is some fresh frothed in the office,' said the 
 lady; and using a little silver call, or whistle, a black 
 boy, superbly dressed like an oriental page, with gold 
 bracelets on his naked arms and a gold collar around his 
 equally bare neck, attended with the favourite beverage 
 of the morning, in an apparatus of the richest china. 
 
 While he sipped his cup of chocolate, the King looked 
 round the apartment, and observing Fenella, Peveril, 
 and the musician, who remained standing beside a large 
 Indian screen, he continued, addressing Mistress Chif- 
 j&nch, though with polite indifference, 'I sent you the 
 fiddles this morning — or rather the flute — Empson, 
 and a fairy elf whom I met in the Park, who dances di- 
 vinely. She has brought us the very newest saraband 
 from the court of Queen Mab, and I sent her here that 
 you may see it at leisure.' 
 
 'Your Majesty does me by far too much honour,' 
 said Chiffinch, her eyes properly cast down, and her ac- 
 cents minced into becoming humility. 
 
 'Nay, little Chiffinch,' answered the King, in a tone 
 of as contemptuous familiarity as was consistent with 
 his good-breeding, 'it was not altogether for thine own 
 private ear, though quite deserving of all sweet sounds; 
 but I thought Nelly had been with thee this morning.' 
 
 'I can send Bajazet for her, your Majesty,' answered 
 the lady. 
 
 'Nay, I will not trouble your little heathen sultan to 
 go so far. Still, it strikes me that Chiffinch said you had 
 company — some country cousin, or such a matter. 
 Is there not such a person?' 
 
 156
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'There is a young person from the country,* said Mis- 
 tress Chiffinch, striving to conceal a considerable por- 
 tion of embarrassment; 'but she is unprepared for such 
 an honour as to be admitted into your Majesty's pre- 
 sence, and — ' 
 
 'And therefore the fitter to receive it, Chiffinch. There 
 is nothing in nature so beautiful as the first blush of a 
 little rustic between joy and fear, and wonder and curi- 
 osity. It is the down on the peach — pity it decays so 
 soon! The fruit remains, but the first high colouring 
 and exquisite flavour are gone. Never put up thy lip 
 for the matter, Chiffinch, for it is as I tell you; so pray 
 let us have la belle cousijie.' 
 
 Mistress Chiffinch, more embarrassed than ever, 
 again advanced towards the door of communication, 
 which she had been in the act of opening when his Ma- 
 jesty entered. But just as she coughed pretty loudly, 
 perhaps as a signal to some one within, voices were again 
 heard in a raised tone of altercation ; the door was flung 
 open, and Alice rushed out of the inner apartment, fol- 
 lowed to the door of it by the enterprising Duke of 
 Buckingham, who stood fixed with astonishment on 
 finding his pursuit of the flying fair one had hurried him 
 into the presence of the King. 
 
 Alice Bridgenorth appeared too much transported 
 with anger to permit her to pay attention to the rank or 
 character of the company into which she had thus sud- 
 denly entered. *I remain no longer here, madam,' she 
 said to Mrs. Chifiinch, in a tone of uncontrollable re- 
 solution; *I leave instantly a house where I am exposed 
 to company which I detest, and to solicitations which I 
 despise.' 
 
 IS7
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The dismayed Mistress Chifiiiich could only implore 
 her, in broken whispers, to be silent; adding, while she 
 pointed to Charles, who stood with his eyes fixed rather 
 on his audacious courtier than on the game which he 
 pursued, 'The King — the King!' 
 
 *If I am in the King's presence,' said Alice, aloud, and 
 in the same torrent of passionate feeling, while her eyes 
 sparkled through tears of resentment and insulted 
 modesty, 'it is the better; it is his Majesty's duty 
 to protect me, and on his protection I throw my- 
 self.' 
 
 These words, which were spoken aloud and boldly, at 
 once recalled Julian to himself, who had hitherto stood, 
 as it were, bewildered. He approached Alice, and whis- 
 pering in her ear that she had beside her one who would 
 defend her with his life, implored her to trust to his 
 guardianship in this emergency. 
 
 Clinging to his arm in all the ecstasy of gratitude and 
 joy, the spirit which had so lately invigorated Alice in 
 her own defence gave way in a flood of tears, when she 
 saw herself supported by him whom perhaps she most 
 wished to recognise as her protector. She permitted 
 Peveril gently to draw her back towards the screen be- 
 fore which he had been standing; where, holding by his 
 arm, but at the same time endeavouring to conceal her- 
 self behind him, they waited the conclusion of a scene 
 so singular. 
 
 The King seemed at first so much surprised at the un- 
 expected apparition of the Duke of Buckingham as to 
 pay little or no attention to Alice, who had been the 
 means of thus unceremoniously introducing his Grace 
 into the presence at a most unsuitable moment. In that 
 
 158
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 intriguing court, it had not been the first time that the 
 duke had ventured to enter the lists of gallantry in ri- 
 valry of his sovereign, which made the present insult the 
 more intolerable. His purpose of lying concealed in these 
 private apartments was explained by the exclamations of 
 Alice; and Charles, notwithstanding the placidity of 
 his disposition, and his habitual guard over his pas- 
 sions, resented the attempt to seduce his destined mis- 
 tress, as an Eastern sultan would have done the insolence 
 of a vizier, who anticipated his intended purchases of 
 captive beauty in the slave market. The swarthy fea- 
 tures of Charles reddened, and the strong lines of his 
 dark visage seemed to become inflated, as he said, in a 
 voice which faltered with passion, 'Buckingham, you 
 dared not have thus insulted your equal ! To your mas- 
 ter you may securely offer any affront, since his rank 
 glues his sword to the scabbard.' 
 
 The haughty duke did not brook this taunt unan- 
 swered. *My sword, 'he said, with emphasis, 'was never 
 in the scabbard when your Majesty's service required it 
 should be unsheathed.' 
 
 'Your Grace means, when its service was required for 
 Its master's interest,' said the King; 'for you could only 
 gain the coronet of a duke by fighting for the royal crown. 
 But it is over; I have treated you as a friend — a com- 
 panion — almost an equal — you have repaid me with 
 insolence and ingratitude.' 
 
 'Sire,' answered the duke, firmly, but respectfully, 
 *I am unhappy in your displeasure; yet thus far fortu- 
 nate, that, while your words can confer honour, they 
 cannot impair or take it away. It is hard,' he added, 
 lowering his voice so as only to be heard by the king — 'it 
 
 159
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 is hard that the squall of a peevish wench should cancel 
 the services of so many years ! ' 
 
 *It is harder,' said the King, in the same subdued 
 tone, which both preserved through the rest of the 
 conversation, 'that a wench's bright eyes can make a 
 nobleman forget the decencies due to his sovereign's 
 privacy.' 
 
 'May I presume to ask your Majesty what decencies 
 are those? ' said the duke. 
 
 Charles bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. 
 'Buckingham,' he said, 'this is a foolish business; and 
 we must not forget, as we have nearly done, that we have 
 an audience to witness this scene, and should walk the 
 stage with dignity. I will show you your fault in pri- 
 vate.' 
 
 ' It is enough that your Majesty has been displeased, 
 and that I have unhappily been the occasion,' said the 
 duke, kneeling, 'although quite ignorant of any purpose 
 beyond a few words of gallantry; and I sue thus low for 
 your Majesty's pardon.' 
 
 So saying, he kneeled gracefully down. 'Thou hast it, 
 George,' said the placable prince. 'I believe thou wilt 
 be sooner tired of ofifending than I of forgiving.' 
 
 'Long may your Majesty live to give the offence with 
 which it is your royal pleasure at present to charge my 
 innocence,' said the duke. 
 
 'What mean you by that, my lord?' said Charles, 
 the angry shade returning to his brow for a moment. 
 
 'My liege,' replied the duke, 'you are too honourable 
 to deny your custom of shooting with Cupid's bird- 
 bolts in other men's warrens. You have ta'en the royal 
 right of free forestry over every man's park. It is hard 
 
 1 60
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 that you should be so much displeased at hearing a 
 chance arrow whizz near your own pales.' 
 
 *No more on't/ said the King; 'but let us see where 
 the dove has harboured.' 
 
 ' The Helen has found a Paris while we were quarrel- 
 ling,' rephed the duke. 
 
 'Rather an Orpheus/ said the King; 'and, what is 
 worse, one that is already provided with a Eurydice. 
 She is clinging to the fiddler.' 
 
 'It is mere fright,' said Buckingham, 'like Rochester's, 
 when he crept into the bass-viol to hide himself from Sir 
 Dermot O'Cleaver.' 
 
 'We must make the people show their talents,' said 
 the King, 'and stop their mouths with money and civil- 
 ity, or we shall have this foolish encounter over half the 
 town.' 
 
 The King then approached Julian, and desired him 
 to take his instrument and cause his female companion 
 to perform a saraband. 
 
 'I had already the honour to inform your Majesty,' 
 said Julian, 'that I cannot contribute to your pleasure 
 in the way you command me; and that this young per- 
 son is — ' 
 
 *A retainer of the Lady Powis,' said the King, upon 
 whose mind things not connected with his pleasures made 
 a very slight impression. 'Poor lady, she is in trouble 
 about the lords in the Tower.' 
 
 'Pardon me, sir,' said Julian, 'she is a dependant of the 
 Countess of Derby.' 
 
 'True — true,' answered Charles; 'it is indeed of Lady 
 Derby, who hath also her own distresses in these times. 
 Do you know who taught the young person to dance? 
 28 i6i
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Some of her steps mightily resemble Le Jeune's of 
 Paris.' 
 
 *I presume she was taught abroad, sir,' said Julian; 
 *for myself, I am charged with some weighty business 
 by the countess, which I would willingly communicate 
 to your Majesty.' 
 
 *We will send you to our Secretary of State,' said the 
 King. 'But this dancing envoy will oblige us once more, 
 will she not? Empson, now that I remember, it was to 
 your pipe that she danced. Strike up, man, and put 
 mettle into her feet.' 
 
 Empson began to play a well-known measure; and, as 
 he had threatened, made more than one false note, until 
 the King, whose ear was very accurate, rebuked him 
 with, 'Sirrah, art thou drunk at this early hour, or must 
 thou too be placing thy slippery tricks with me? Thou 
 thinkest thou art born to beat time, but I will have time 
 beat into thee.' 
 
 The hint was sufficient, and Empson took good care 
 so to perform his air as to merit his high and deserved 
 reputation. But on Fenella it made not the slightest im- 
 pression. She rather leant than stood against the wall of 
 the apartment, her countenance as pale as death, her 
 arms and hands hanging down as if stiffened, and her 
 existence only testified by the sobs which agitated her 
 bosom and the tears which flowed from her half-closed 
 eyes. 
 
 *A plague on it,' said the King, 'some evil spirit is 
 abroad this morning, and the wenches are all bewitched, 
 I think. Cheer up, my girl. What, in the devil's name, 
 has changed thee at once from a n>Tnph to a Niobe? If 
 thou standest there longer, thou wilt grow to the very 
 
 162
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 marble wall. Or — odds-fish, George, have you been bird- 
 bolting in this quarter also?' 
 
 Ere Buckingham could answer to this charge, Julian 
 again kneeled down to the King, and prayed to be heard, 
 were it only for five minutes. 'The young woman,' he 
 said, 'had been long in attendance on the Countess of 
 Derby. She was bereaved of the faculties of speech and 
 hearing.' 
 
 'Odds-fish, man, and dances so well?' said the King. 
 'Nay, all Gresham College shall never make me believe 
 that.' 
 
 *I would have thought it equally impossible but for 
 what I to-day witnessed,' said Julian; 'but only permit 
 me, sir, to deliver the petition of my lady the countess.' 
 
 'And who art thou thyself, man?' said the sovereign; 
 'for, though everything which wears bodice and breast- 
 knot has a right to speak to a king and be answered, I 
 know not that they have a title to audience through an 
 envoy extraordinary.' 
 
 ' I am Julian Peveril of Derbyshire,' answered the sup- 
 plicant, 'the son of Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Martindale 
 Castle, who — ' 
 
 'Body of me — the old Worcester man?' said the 
 King. 'Odds-fish, I remember him well; some harm has 
 happened to him, I think. Is he not dead, or very sick 
 at least? ' 
 
 ' 111 at ease, and it please your Majesty, but not ill in 
 health. He has been imprisoned on account of alleged 
 accession to this Plot.' 
 
 'Look you there,' said the King, 'I knew he was in 
 trouble ; and yet how to help the stout old knight I can 
 hardly tell. I can scarce escape suspicion of the Plot 
 
 163
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 myself, though the principal object of it is to take away 
 my own life. Were I to stir to save a plotter, I should 
 certainly be brought in as an accessary. Buckingham, 
 thou hast some interest with those who built this fine 
 state engine, or at least who have driven it on — be 
 good-natured for once, though it is scarcely thy wont, 
 and interfere to shelter our old Worcester friend, Sir 
 Godfrey. You have not forgot him?' 
 
 *No, sir,' answered the duke; 'for I never heard the 
 name.' 
 
 'It is Sir Geoffrey his Majesty would say,' said Julian. 
 
 'And if his Majesty did say Sir Geoffrey, Master 
 Peveril, I cannot see of what use I can be to your father,' 
 replied the duke, coldly. ' He is accused of a heavy crime ; 
 and a British subject so accused can have no shelter 
 either from prince or peer, but must stand to the award 
 and deliverance of God and his country.' 
 
 'Now, Heaven forgive thee thy hypocrisy, George,' 
 said the King, hastily. 'I would rather hear the devil 
 preach religion than thee teach patriotism. Thou know- 
 est as well as I that the nation is in a scarlet fever for 
 fear of the poor Catholics, who are not two men to five 
 hundred; and that the public mind is so harassed with 
 new narrations of conspiracy, and fresh horrors every 
 day, that people have as little real sense of what is just 
 or unjust as men who talk in their sleep of what is sense 
 or nonsense. I have borne and borne with it; I have seen 
 blood flow on the scaffold, fearing to thwart the nation 
 in its fury; and I pray to God that I or mine be not 
 called on to answer for it. I will no longer swim with 
 the torrent, which honour and conscience call upon me 
 to stem: I will act the part of a sovereign, and save 
 
 164
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 my people from doing injustice, even in their own 
 despite.' 
 
 Charles walked hastily up and down the room as he 
 expressed these unwonted sentiments, with energy 
 equally unwonted. After a momentary pause, the duke 
 answered him gravely, 'Spoken like a royal king, sir; 
 but — pardon me — not like a king of England.' 
 
 Charles paused, as the duke spoke, beside a window 
 which looked full on Whitehall, and his eye was invol- 
 untarily attracted by the fatal window of the Banquet- 
 ing House, out of which his unhappy father was con- 
 ducted to execution. Charles was naturally, or, more 
 properly, constitutionally, brave; but a life of pleasure, 
 together with the habit of governing his course rather 
 by what was expedient than by what was right, rendered 
 him unapt to dare the same scene of danger or of mar- 
 tyrdom which had closed his father's life and reign; and 
 the thought came over his half-formed resolution like 
 the rain upon a kindling beacon. In another man, his 
 perplexity would have seemed almost ludicrous; but 
 Charles could not lose, even under these circumstances, 
 the dignity and grace which were as natural to him as 
 his indifference and his good-humour. ' Our council must 
 decide in this matter,' he said, looking to the duke; 'and 
 be assured, young man,' he added, addressing Julian, 
 *your father shall not want an intercessor in his king, 
 so far as the laws will permit my interference in his be- 
 half.' 
 
 Julian was about to retire, when Fenella, with a 
 marked look, put into his hand a slip of paper, on which 
 she had hastily written, 'The packet — give him the 
 packet.' 
 
 165
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, during which he reflected 
 that Fenella was the organ of the countess's pleasure, 
 Julian resolved to obey. 'Permit me, then, sire,' he said, 
 'to place in your royal hands this packet, entrusted to 
 me by the Countess of Derby, The letters have already 
 been once taken from me; and I have little hope that 
 I can now deliver them as they are addressed. I place 
 them, therefore, in your royal hands, certain that they 
 will evince the innocence of the writer.' 
 
 The King shook his head as he took the packet reluc- 
 tantly. * It is no safe office you have undertaken, young 
 man. A messenger has sometimes his throat cut for the 
 sake of his despatches. But give them to me; and, Chif- 
 finch, give me wax and a taper.' He employed himself 
 in folding the countess's packet in another envelope. 
 'Buckingham,' he said, 'you are evidence that I do not 
 read them till the council shall see them.' 
 
 Buckingham approached, and offered his services in 
 folding the parcel, but Charles rejected his assistance; 
 and having finished his task, he sealed the packet with 
 his own signet-ring. 
 
 The duke bit his lip and retired. 
 
 'And now, young man,' said the King, 'your errand 
 is sped, so far as it can at present be forwarded.' 
 
 Julian bowed deeply, as to take leave at these words, 
 which he rightly interpreted as a signal for his depart- 
 ure. Alice Bridgenorth still clung to his arm, and mo- 
 tioned to withdraw along with him. The King and 
 Buckingham looked at each other in conscious astonish- 
 ment, and yet not without a desire to smile, so strange 
 did it seem to them that a prize, for which, an instant 
 before, they had been mutually contending, should thus 
 
 1 66
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 glide out of their grasp, or rather be borne off by a third 
 and very inferior competitor. 
 
 'Mistress Chifi&nch/ said the King, with a hesitation 
 which he could not disguise, ' I hope your fair charge is 
 not about to leave you?' 
 
 'Certainly not, your Majesty,' answered Chiffinch. 
 'Alice, my love, you mistake; that opposite door leads to 
 your apartments,' 
 
 'Pardon me, madam,' answered Alice; 'I have indeed 
 mistaken my road, but it was when I came hither.' 
 
 'The errant damozel,' said Buckingham, looking at 
 Charles with as much intelligence as etiquette permitted 
 him to throw into his eye, and then turning it towards 
 Alice, as she still held by Julian's arm, 'is resolved not 
 to mistake her road a second time. She has chosen a 
 sufficient guide,' 
 
 'And yet stories tell that such guides have led maidens 
 astray,' said the King, 
 
 Alice blushed deeply, but instantly recovered her 
 composure so soon as she saw that her liberty was likely 
 to depend upon the immediate exercise of resolution. 
 She quitted, from a sense of insulted delicacy, the arm 
 of Julian, to which she had hitherto clung; but as she 
 spoke she continued to retain a slight grasp of his cloak. 
 'I have indeed mistaken my way,' she repeated, still ad- 
 dressing Mistress Chiffinch, 'but it was when I crossed 
 this threshold. The usage to which I have been exposed 
 in your house has determined me to quit it instantly.' 
 
 'I will not permit that, my young mistress,' answered 
 Chiffinch, 'until your uncle, who placed you under my 
 care, shall relieve me of the charge of you,' 
 
 ' I will answer for my conduct both to my uncle and, 
 167
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 what is of more importance, to my father/ said Alice. 
 'You must permit me to depart, madam; I am free-born, 
 and you have no right to detain me.' 
 
 'Pardon me, my young madam,' said Mistress Chif- 
 finch, *I have a right, and I will maintain it too.' 
 
 'I will know that before quitting this presence,' said 
 Alice, firmly; and, advancing a step or two, she dropped 
 on her knee before the King. 'Your Majesty,' said she, 
 'if indeed I kneel before King Charles, is the father of 
 your subjects.' 
 
 'Of a good many of them,' said the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, apart. 
 
 'I demand protection of you, in the name of God and 
 of the oath your Majesty swore when you placed on 
 your head the crown of this kingdom ! ' 
 
 'You have my protection,' said the King, a little con- 
 fused by an appeal so unexpected and so solemn. 'Do 
 but remain quiet with this lady, with whom your par- 
 ents have placed you; neither Buckingham nor any 
 one else shall intrude on you.' 
 
 'His Majesty,' added Buckingham, in the same tone, 
 and speaking from the restless and mischief-making 
 spirit of contradiction, which he never could restrain, 
 even when indulging it was most contrary not only to 
 propriety, but to his own interest — ' his Majesty will 
 protect you, fair lady, from all intrusion save what 
 must not be termed such.' 
 
 Alice darted a keen look on the duke, as if to read his 
 meaning; another on Charles, to know whether she had 
 guessed it rightly. There was a guilty confession on the 
 King's brow, which confirmed Alice's determination to 
 depart. 'Your Majesty will forgive me,' she said; 'it 
 
 1 68
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 is not here that I can enjoy the advantage of your royal 
 protection. I am resolved to leave this house. If I am 
 detained, it must be by violence, which I trust no one 
 dare ofifer me in your Majesty's presence. This gentle- 
 man, whom I have long known, will conduct me to my 
 friends.' 
 
 *We make but an indifferent figure in this scene, me- 
 thinks,' said the King, addressing the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, and speaking in a whisper; 'but she must go. I 
 neither will nor dare stop her from returning to her 
 father.' 
 
 'And if she does,' swore the duke internally, 'I would, 
 as Sir Andrew saith, I might never touch fair lady's 
 hand.' And stepping back, he spoke a few words with 
 Empson, the musician, who left the apartment for a few 
 minutes, and presently returned. 
 
 The King seemed irresolute concerning the part he 
 should act under circumstances so peculiar. To be 
 foiled in a gallant intrigue was to subject himself to the 
 ridicule of his gay court; to persist in it by any means 
 which approached to constraint would have been ty- 
 rannical; and, what perhaps he might judge as severe 
 an imputation, it would have been unbecoming a gentle- 
 man. 'Upon my honour, young lady,' he said, with an 
 emphasis, 'you have nothing to fear in this house. But 
 it is improper, for your own sake, that you should leave 
 it in this abrupt manner. If you will have the goodness 
 to wait but a quarter of an hour, Mistress Chiffinch's 
 coach will be placed at your command, to transport you 
 where you will. Spare yourself the ridicule, and me the 
 pain, of seeing you leave the house of one of my servants 
 as if you were escaping from a prison.' 
 
 169
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The King spoke in good-natured sincerity, and Alice 
 was inclined for an instant to listen to his advice; but 
 recollecting that she had to search for her father and 
 uncle, or, failing them, for some suitable place of secure 
 residence, it rushed on her mind that the attendants of 
 Mistress ChifiBinch were not likely to prove trusty guides 
 or assistants in such a purpose. Firmly and respectfully 
 she announced her purpose of instant departure. She 
 needed no other escort, she said, than what this gentle- 
 man. Master Julian Peveril, who was well known to her 
 father, would willingly afford her; nor did she need that 
 farther than until she had reached her father's residence. 
 
 'Farewell, then, lady, a God's name!' said the King. 
 *I am sorry so much beauty should be wedded to so many 
 shrewish suspicions. For you. Master Peveril, I should 
 have thought you had enough to do with your own af- 
 fairs, without interfering with the humours of the fair 
 sex. The duty of conducting all strayed damsels into the 
 right path is, as matters go in this good city, rather too 
 weighty an undertaking for your youth and inexperi- 
 ence.' 
 
 Julian, eager to conduct Alice safe from a place of 
 which he began fully to appreciate the perils, answered 
 nothing to this taunt, but, bowing reverently, led her 
 from the apartment. Her sudden appearance, and 
 the animated scene which followed, had entirely ab- 
 sorbed, for the moment, the recollection of his father 
 and of the Countess of Derby; and while the dumb 
 attendant of the latter remained in the room, a si- 
 lent and, as it were, stunned spectator of all that had 
 happened, Peveril had become, in the predominating in- 
 terest of Alice's critical situation, totally forgetful of her 
 
 170
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 presence. But no sooner had he left the room, without 
 noticing or attending to her, than Fenella, starting as 
 from a trance, drew herself up and looked wildly around, 
 like one waking from a dream, as if to assure herself that 
 her companion was gone, and gone without paying the 
 slightest attention to her. She folded her hands together, 
 and cast her eyes upwards with an expression of such 
 agony as explained to Charles, as he thought, what 
 painful ideas were passing in her mind. 'This Peveril 
 is a perfect pattern of successful perfidy,' said the King: 
 *he has not only succeeded at first sight in carrying off 
 this queen of the amazons, but he has left us, I think, a 
 disconsolate Ariadne in her place. But weep not, my 
 princess of pretty movements,' he said, addressing him- 
 self to Fenella; 'if we cannot call in Bacchus to console 
 you, we will commit you to the care of Empson, who 
 shall drink with Liher Pater for a thousand pounds, and 
 I will say done first.' 
 
 As the King spoke these words, Fenella rushed past him 
 with her wonted rapidity of step, and, with much less 
 courtesy than was due to the royal presence, hurried 
 downstairs and out of the house,without attempting to 
 open any communication with the monarch. He saw her 
 abrupt departure with more surprise than displeasure ; 
 and presently afterwards, bursting into a fit of laughter, 
 he said to the duke, 'Odds-fish, George, this young spark 
 might teach the best of us how to manage the wenches. 
 I have had my own experience, but I could never yet 
 contrive either to win or lose them with so little cere- 
 mony.' 
 
 'Experience, sir,' replied the duke, 'cannot be ac- 
 quired without years.' 
 
 171
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'True, George; and you would, I suppose, insinuate,' 
 said Charles, 'that the gallant who acquires it loses as 
 much in youth as he gains in art? I defy your insinu- 
 ation, George. You cannot overreach your master, old 
 as you think him, either in love or poHtics. You have 
 not the secret plumer la poule sans la faire crier — wit- 
 ness this morning's work. I will give you odds at all 
 games — ay, and at the Mall too, if thou darest accept 
 my challenge. Chiffinch, what for dost thou convulse 
 thy pretty throat and face with sobbing and hatching 
 tears, which seem rather unwilling to make their appear- 
 ance? ' 
 
 *It is for fear,' whined Chiffinch, 'that your Majesty 
 should think — that you should expect — ' 
 
 'That I should expect gratitude from a courtier, or 
 faith from a woman?' answered the King, patting her at 
 the same time under the chin, to make her raise her face. 
 'Tush! chicken, I am not so superfluous.' 
 
 'There it is now,' said Chiffinch, continuing to sob 
 the more bitterly, as she felt herself unable to produce 
 any tears; 'I see your Majesty is determined to lay all 
 the blame on me, when I am innocent as an unborn 
 babe; I will be judged by his Grace.' 
 
 'No doubt — no doubt, Chiffie,' said the King. 'His 
 Grace and you will be excellent judges in each other's 
 cause, and as good witnesses in each other's favour. But 
 to investigate the matter impartially, we must examine 
 our evidence apart. My lord duke, we meet at the Mall 
 at noon, if your Grace dare accept my challenge.* 
 
 His Grace of Buckingham bowed and retired.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 But when the bully, with assuming pace, 
 
 Cocks his broad hat, edged round with tarnish 'd lace. 
 
 Yield not the way; defy his strutting pride. 
 
 And thrust him to the muddy kennel's side. . . . 
 
 Yet rather bear the shower, and toils of mud, 
 
 Than in the doubtful quarrel risk thy blood. 
 
 Gay's Trivia. 
 
 Julian Peveril, half-leading, half-supporting Alice 
 Bridgenorth, had reached the middle of St. James's 
 Street ere the doubt occurred to him which way they 
 should bend their course. He then asked Alice whither 
 he should conduct her, and learned, to his surprise and 
 embarrassment, that, far from knowing where her 
 father was to be found, she had no certain knowledge 
 that he was in London, and only hoped that he had ar- 
 rived, from the expressions which he had used at part- 
 ing. She mentioned her uncle Christian's address, but 
 it was with doubt and hesitation, arising from the hands 
 in which he had already placed her; and her reluctance to 
 go again under his protection was strongly confirmed by 
 her youthful guide, when a few words had established to 
 his conviction the identity of Ganlesse and Christian. 
 What then was to be done? ' 
 
 'Alice,' said Julian, after a moment's reflection, 'you 
 must seek your earliest and best friend; I mean my 
 mother. She has now no castle in which to receive you; 
 she has but a miserable lodging, so near the jail in which 
 my father is confined that it seems almost a cell of the 
 same prison. I have not seen her since my coming hither; 
 
 173
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 but thus much have I learned by inquiry. We will now 
 go to her apartment; such as it is, I know she will share 
 it with one so innocent and so unprotected as you 
 are.' 
 
 'Gracious Heaven!' said the poor girl, 'am I then so 
 totally deserted, that I must throw myself on the mercy 
 of her who, of all the world, has most reason to spurn me 
 from her? Julian, can you advise me to this? Is there 
 none else who will afford me a few hours' refuge, till I 
 can hear from my father? — no other protectress but 
 her whose ruin has, I fear, been accelerated by — Ju- 
 lian, I dare not appear before your mother! She must 
 hate me for my family, and despise me for my mean- 
 ness. To be a second time cast on her protection, when 
 the first has been so evil repaid ! Julian, I dare not go 
 with you ! ' 
 
 'She has never ceased to love you, Alice,' said her 
 conductor, whose steps she continued to attend, even 
 while declaring her resolution not to go with him: 'she 
 never felt anything but kindness towards you, nay, 
 towards your father; for though his dealings with us have 
 been harsh, she can allow much for the provocation 
 which he has received. Beheve me, with her you will be 
 safe as with a mother — perhaps may be the means of 
 reconciling the divisions by which we have suffered so 
 much.' 
 
 'Might God grant it!' said AHce. 'Yet how shall I 
 face your mother? And will she be able to protect me 
 against these powerful men — against my uncle Chris- 
 tian? Alas, that I must call him my worst enemy!' 
 
 'She has the ascendency which honour hath over in- 
 famy, and virtue over vice,' said Julian; 'and to no hu- 
 
 174-
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 man power but your father's will she resign you, if you 
 consent to choose her for your protectress. Come, then, 
 with me, Alice; and — ' 
 
 Julian was interrupted by some one, who, laying an 
 unceremonious hold of his cloak, pulled it with so much 
 force as compelled him to stop and lay his hand on his 
 sword. He turned at the same time, and, when he turned, 
 beheld Fenella. The cheek of the mute glowed like fire, 
 her eyes sparkled, and her lips were forcibly drawn to- 
 gether, as if she had difficulty to repress those wild 
 screams which usually attended her agonies of passion, 
 and which, uttered in the open street, must instantly 
 have collected a crowd. As it was, her appearance was 
 so singular, and her emotion so evident, that men gazed 
 as they came on, and looked back after they had passed, 
 at the singular vivacity of her gestures; while, holding 
 Peveril's cloak with one hand, she made, with the other, 
 the most eager and imperious signs that he should leave 
 Alice Bridgenorth and follow her. She touched the 
 plume in her bonnet, to remind him of the earl; pointed 
 to her heart, to intimate the countess; raised her closed 
 hand, as if to command him in their name; and next 
 moment folded both, as if to supplicate him in her own; 
 while, pointing to Alice with an expression at once of 
 angry and scornful derision, she waved her hand repeat- 
 edly and disdainfully, to intimate that Peveril ought to 
 cast her off, as something undeserving his protection. 
 
 Frightened, she knew not why, at these wild gestures, 
 Alice clung closer to Julian's arm than she had at first 
 dared to do; and this mark of confidence in his protec- 
 tion seemed to increase the passion of Fenella. 
 
 Julian was dreadfully embarrassed; his situation was 
 
 175
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sufficiently precarious, even before Fenella's ungovern- 
 able passions threatened to ruin the only plan which he 
 had been able to suggest. What she wanted with him — 
 how far the fate of the earl and countess might depend 
 on his following her, he could not even conjecture; but 
 be the call how peremptory soever, he resolved not to 
 comply with it until he had seen Alice placed in safety. 
 In the meantime, he determined not to lose sight of 
 Fenella; and disregarding her repeated, disdainful, and 
 impetuous rejection of the hand which he offered her, 
 he at length seemed so far to have soothed her, that she 
 seized upon his right arm, and, as if despairing of his 
 following her path, appeared reconciled to attend him 
 on that which he himself should choose. 
 
 Thus, with a youthful female ch'nging to each arm, 
 and both remarkably calculated to attract the public 
 eye, though from very different reasons, Julian resolved 
 to make the shortest road to the water-side, and there 
 to take boat for Blackfriars, as the nearest point of land- 
 ing to Newgate, where he concluded that Lance had 
 already announced his arrival in London to Sir Geoffrey, 
 then inhabiting that dismal region, and to his lady, who, 
 so far as the jailor's rigour permitted, shared and soft- 
 ened his imprisonment. 
 
 Julian's embarrassment in passing Charing Cross and 
 Northumberland House was so great as to excite the 
 attention of the passengers; for he had to compose his 
 steps so as to moderate the unequal and rapid pace of 
 Fenella to the timid and faint progress of his left-hand 
 companion; and while it would have been needless to 
 address himself to the former, who could not compre- 
 hend him, he dared not speak himself to Alice, for fear 
 
 176
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 of awakening into frenzy the Jealousy, or at least the 
 impatience, of Fenella. 
 
 Many passengers looked at them with wonder, and 
 some with smiles; but Julian remarked that there were 
 two who never lost sight of them, and to whom his situa- 
 tion, and the demeanour of his companions, seemed to 
 afford matter of undisguised merriment. These were 
 young men, such as may be seen in the same precincts 
 in the present day, allowing for the difference in the 
 fashion of their apparel. They abounded in periwig, and 
 fluttered with many hundred yards of ribbon, disposed 
 in bowknots upon their sleeves, their breeches, and their 
 waistcoats, in the very extremity of the existing mode. 
 A quantity of lace and embroidery made their habits 
 rather fine than tasteful. In a word, they were dressed 
 in that caricature of the fashion which sometimes denotes 
 a hare-brained man of quality who has a mind to be dis- 
 tinguished as a fop of the first order, but is much more 
 frequently the disguise of those who desire to be es- 
 teemed men of rank on account of their dress, having 
 no other pretension to the distinction. 
 
 These two gallants passed Peveril more than once, 
 linked arm-in-arm, then sauntered, so as to oblige him 
 to pass them in turn, laughing and whispering during 
 these manoeuvres, staring broadly at Peveril and his 
 female companions, and affording them, as they came 
 into contact, none of those facilities of giving place which 
 are required on such occasions by the ordinary rules of 
 the pave. 
 
 Peveril did not immediately observe their imperti- 
 nence; but when it was too gross to escape his notice, 
 his gall began to arise; and, in addition to all the other 
 
 28 177
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 embarrassments of his situation, he had to combat the 
 longing desire which he felt to cudgel handsomely the 
 two coxcombs who seemed thus determined on insult- 
 ing him. Patience and sufferance were indeed strongly 
 imposed on him by circumstances; but at length it be- 
 came scarcely possible to observe their dictates any 
 longer. 
 
 When, for the third time, Julian found himself obliged, 
 with his companions, to pass this troublesome brace of 
 fops, they kept walking close behind him, speaking so 
 loud as to be heard, and in a tone of perfect indifference 
 whether he hstened to them or not. 
 
 'This is bumpkin's best luck,' said the taller of the 
 two, who was indeed a man of remarkable size, alluding 
 to the plainness of Peveril's dress, which was scarce fit 
 for the streets of London. ' Two such fine wenches, and 
 under guard of a grey frock and an oaken riding-rod ! ' 
 
 'Nay, Puritan's luck rather, and more than enough of 
 it,' said his companion. 'You may read Puritan in his 
 pace and in his patience.' 
 
 'Right as a pint bumper, Tom,' said his friend. 
 *Issachar is an ass that stoopeth between two burdens.' 
 
 'I have a mind to ease long-eared Laurence of one of 
 his encumbrances,' said the shorter fellow. 'That black- 
 eyed sparkler looks as if she had a mind to run away 
 from him.' 
 
 *Ay,' answered the taller, 'and the blue-eyed trembler 
 looks as if she would fall behind into my loving arms.' 
 
 At these words, Alice, holding still closer by Peveril's 
 arm than formerly, mended her pace almost to nmning, 
 in order to escape from men whose language was so alarm- 
 ing; and Fenella walked hastily forward in the same 
 
 178
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 manner, having perhaps caught, from the men's gestures 
 and demeanour, that apprehension which Alice had taken 
 from their language. 
 
 Fearful of the consequences of a fray in the streets, 
 which must necessarily separate him from these unpro- 
 tected females, Peveril endeavoured to compound be- 
 twixt the prudence necessary for their protection and 
 his own rising resentment; and as this troublesome pair 
 of attendants endeavoured again to pass them close to 
 Hungerford Stairs, he said to them, with constrained 
 calmness, 'Gentlemen, I owe you something for the 
 attention you have bestowed on the affairs of a stranger. 
 If you have any pretension to the name I have given 
 you, you will tell me where you are to be found.' 
 
 'And with what purpose,' said the taller of the two, 
 sneeringly, 'does your most rustic gravity, or your most 
 grave rusticity, require of us such information? ' 
 
 So saying, they both faced about, in such a manner as 
 to make it impossible for JuHan to advance any farther. 
 
 'Make for the stairs, AHce,' he said; 'I will be with you 
 in an instant.' Then freeing himself with difficulty from 
 the grasp of his companions, he cast his cloak hastily 
 round his left arm, and said sternly to his opponents, 
 'Will you give me your names, sirs; or will you be pleased 
 to make way? ' 
 
 'Not till we know for whom we are to give place,' said 
 one of them. 
 
 'For one who will else teach you what you want — 
 good manners,' said Peveril, and advanced, as if to push 
 between them. 
 
 They separated, but one of them stretched forth his 
 foot before Peveril, as if he meant to trip him. The blood 
 
 179
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of his ancestors was already boiling within him; he struck 
 the man on the face with the oaken rod which he had 
 just sneered at, and, throwing it from him, instantly 
 unsheathed his sword. Both the others drew, and pushed 
 at once; but he caught the point of the one rapier in his 
 cloak, and parried the other thrust with his own weapon. 
 He might have been less lucky in the second close, but a 
 cry arose among the watermen of 'Shame — shame! two 
 upon one!' 
 
 'They are men of the Duke of Buckingham's,' said 
 one fellow; 'there's no safe meddling with them.' 
 
 'They may be the devil's men, if they will,' said an 
 ancient triton, flourishing his stretcher; 'but I say fair 
 play and Old England for ever; and, I say, knock the 
 gold-laced puppies down, unless they will fight turn- 
 about with grey jerkin, like honest fellows — one down, 
 t'other come on.' 
 
 The lower orders of London have in all times been 
 remarkable for the delight which they have taken in 
 club-law, or fist-law; and for the equity and impartiality 
 with which they see it administered. The noble science 
 of defence was then so generally known, that a bout at 
 single rapier excited at that time as much interest and 
 as little wonder as a boxing-match in our own days. The 
 bystanders, experienced in such affrays, presently formed 
 a ring, within which Peveril and the taller and more for- 
 ward of his antagonists were soon engaged in close com- 
 bat with their swords, whilst the other, overawed by the 
 spectators, was prevented from interfering. 
 
 'Well done the tall fellow!' 'WeU thrust, long-legs!' 
 * Huzza for two ells and a quarter! ' were the sounds with 
 which the fray was at first cheered; for Peveril's oppo- 
 
 i8o
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 nent not only showed great activity and skill in fence, 
 but had also a decided advantage, from the anxiety with 
 which Julian looked out for Alice Bridgenorth, the care 
 for whose safety diverted him in the beginning of the 
 onset from that which he ought to have exclusively be- 
 stowed on the defence of his own Hfe. A slight flesh- 
 wound in the side at once punished, and warned him of, 
 his inadvertence; when, turning his whole thoughts on 
 the business in which he was engaged, and animated with 
 anger against his impertinent intruder, the rencontre 
 speedily began to assume another face, amidst cries of 
 *Well done, grey jerkin!' 'Try the metal of his gold 
 doublet!' * Finely thrust ! ' * Curiously parried ! ' 'There 
 went another eyelet-hole to his broidered jerkin ! ' ' Fairly 
 pinked, by G — d!' In fact, the last exclamation was 
 uttered amid a general roar of applause, accompanying 
 a successful and conclusive lounge, by which Peveril ran 
 his gigantic antagonist through the body. He looked at 
 his prostrate foe for a moment; then, recovering himself, 
 called loudly to know what had become of the lady. 
 
 'Never mind the lady, if you be wise,' said one of the 
 watermen; * the constable will be here in an instant. I '11 
 give your honour a cast across the water in a moment. 
 It may be as much as your neck's worth. Shall only 
 charge a Jacobus.' 
 
 'You be d — d!' said one of his rivals in profession, 'as 
 your father was before you; for a Jacobus, I'll set the 
 gentleman into Alsatia, where neither bailiff nor con- 
 stable dare trespass.' 
 
 ' The lady, you scoundrels — the lady ! ' exclaimed 
 Peveril. 'Where is the lady?' 
 
 ' I '11 carry your honour where you shall have enough
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of ladies, if that be your want/ said the old triton; and 
 as he spoke, the clamour amongst the watermen was 
 renewed, each hoping to cut his own profit out of the 
 emergency of Julian's situation. 
 
 *A sculler will be least suspected, your honour,' said 
 one fellow. 
 
 * A pair of oars will carry you through the water Hke a 
 wild duck,' said another. 
 
 'But you have got never a tilt, brother,' said a third. 
 'Now, I can put the gentleman as snug as if he were 
 under hatches.' 
 
 In the midst of the oaths and clamour attending this 
 aquatic controversy for his custom, Peveril at length 
 made them understand that he would bestow a Jacobus, 
 not on him whose boat was first oars, but on whomsoever 
 should inform him of the fate of the lady. 
 
 *0f which lady?' said a sharp fellow; 'for, to my 
 thought, there was a pair on them.' 
 
 'Of both — of both,' answered Peveril; 'but first, of 
 the fair-haired lady.' 
 
 'Ay — ay, that was she that shrieked so when gold- 
 jacket's companion handed her into No. 20.' 
 
 'Who — what — who dared to hand her?' exclaimed 
 Peveril. 
 
 ' Nay, master, you have heard enough of my tale with- 
 out a fee,' said the waterman. 
 
 'Sordid rascal!' said Peveril, giving him a gold piece, 
 'speak out, or I'll run my sword through you!' 
 
 ' For the matter of that, master,' answered the fellow, 
 *not while I can handle this trunnion; but a bargain 's a 
 bargain, and so I '11 tell you, for your gold piece, that the 
 comrade of the fellow forced one of your wenches, her 
 
 182
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 with the fair hair, will she nill she, into Tickling Tom's 
 wherry; and they are far enough up Thames by this 
 time, with wind and tide.' 
 
 ' Sacred Heaven, and I stand here ! ' exclaimed Julian. 
 
 'Why, that is because your honour will not take a 
 boat.' 
 
 ' You are right, my friend ; a boat — a boat instantly ! ' 
 
 'Follow me, then, squire. Here, Tom, bear a hand; 
 the gentleman is our fare.' 
 
 A volley of water language was exchanged betwixt the 
 successful candidate for Peveril's custom and his disap- 
 pointed brethren, which concluded by the ancient tri- 
 ton's bellowing out, in a tone above them all, 'that the 
 gentleman was in a fair way to make a voyage to the 
 isle of gulls, for that sly Jack was only bantering him: 
 No. 20 had rowed for York buildings.' 
 
 'To the isle of gallows,' cried another; 'for here comes 
 one who will mar his trip up Thames, and carry him 
 down to Execution Dock.' 
 
 In fact, as he spoke the word, a constable, with three 
 or four of his assistants, armed with the old-fashioned 
 brown-bills, which were still used for arming those guar- 
 dians of the peace, cut off our hero's farther progress to 
 the water's edge by arresting him in the King's name. 
 To attempt resistance would have been madness, as he 
 was surrounded on all sides; so Peveril was disarmed 
 and carried before the nearest justice of the peace, for 
 examination and committal. 
 
 The legal sage before whom Juhan was taken was a 
 man very honest in his intentions, very bounded in his 
 talents, and rather timid in his disposition. Before the 
 general alarm given to England, and to the city of Lon- 
 
 183
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 don in particular, by the notable discovery of the Popish 
 Plot, Master Maulstatute had taken serene and undis- 
 turbed pride and pleasure in the discharge of his duties 
 as a justice of the peace, with the exercise of all its hon- 
 orary privileges and awful authority. But the murder 
 of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey had made a strong, nay, 
 an indelible, impression on his mind; and he walked the 
 courts of Themis with fear and trembling after that 
 memorable and melancholy event. 
 
 Having a high idea of his official importance, and 
 rather an exalted notion of his personal consequence, 
 his honour saw nothing from that time but cords and 
 daggers before his eyes, and never stepped out of his own 
 house, which he fortified, and in some measure garri- 
 soned, with half a dozen tall watchmen and constables, 
 without seeing himself watched by a Papist in disguise, 
 w^th a drawn sword under his cloak. It was even whis- 
 pered that, in the agonies of his fears, the worshipful 
 Master Maulstatute mistook the kitchen-wench with a 
 tinderbox for a Jesuit with a pistol; but if any one dared 
 to laugh at such an error, he would have done well to 
 conceal his mirth, lest he fell under the heavy inculpa- 
 tion of being a banterer and stifler of the Plot — a crime 
 almost as deep as that of being himself a Plotter. In 
 fact, the fears of the honest Justice, however ridiculously 
 exorbitant, were kept so much in countenance by the 
 outcry of the day and the general nervous fever which 
 afflicted every good Protestant, that Master Maulstat- 
 ute was accounted the bolder man and the better magis- 
 trate, while, under the terror of the air-drawn dagger 
 which fancy placed continually before his eyes, he con- 
 tinued to dole forth justice in the recesses of his private 
 
 184
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 chamber, nay, occasionally to attend quarter-sessions, 
 when the hall was guarded by a sufficient body of the 
 militia. Such was the wight at whose door, well chained 
 and doubly bolted, the constable who had Julian in cus- 
 tody now gave his important and well-known knock. 
 
 Notwithstanding this official signal, the party was not 
 admitted until the clerk, who acted the part of high 
 warder, had reconnoitred them through a grated wicket; 
 for who could say whether the Papists might not have 
 made themselves master of Master Constable's sign, 
 and have prepared a pseudo-watch to burst in and mur- 
 der the justice, under pretence of bringing a criminal 
 before him? Less hopeful projects had figured in the 
 Narrative of the Popish Plot. 
 
 All being found right, the key was turned, the bolts 
 were drawn, and the chain unhooked, so as to permit 
 entrance to the constable, the prisoner, and the assist- 
 ants; and the door was then as suddenly shut against 
 the witnesses, who, as less trustworthy persons, were 
 requested, through the wicket, to remain in the yard, 
 until they should be called in their respective turns. 
 
 Had Julian been inchned for mirth, as was far from 
 being the case, he must have smiled at the incongruity 
 of the clerk's apparel, who had belted over his black 
 buckram suit a buff baldric, sustaining a broadsword 
 and a pair of huge horse-pistols; and, instead of the low 
 flat hat which, coming in place of the city cap, completed 
 the dress of a scrivener, had placed on his greasy locks a 
 rusted steel cap, which had seen Marston Moor; across 
 which projected his well-used quill, in the guise of a 
 plume — the shape of the morion not admitting of its 
 being stuck, as usual, behind his ear. 
 
 i8S
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 This whimsical figure conducted the constable, his 
 assistants, and the prisoner into the low hall, where his 
 principal dealt forth justice, who presented an appear- 
 ance still more singular than that of his dependant. 
 
 Sundry good Protestants, who thought so highly of 
 themselves as to suppose they were worthy to be distin- 
 guished as objects of CathoHc cruelty, had taken to de- 
 fensive arms on the occasion. But it was quickly found 
 that a breast-plate and back-plate of proof, fastened 
 together with iron clasps, was no convenient inclosure 
 for a man who meant to eat venison and custard; and 
 that a buff-coat, or shirt of mail, was scarcely more ac- 
 commodating to the exertions necessary on such active 
 occasions. Besides, there were other objections, as the 
 alarming and menacing aspects which such warlike 
 habiliments gave to the exchange and other places where 
 merchants most do congregate; and excoriations were 
 bitterly complained of by many, who, not belonging to 
 the artillery company or trained bands, had no experi- 
 ence in bearing defensive armour. 
 
 To obviate these objections, and, at the same time, to 
 secure the persons of all true Protestant citizens against 
 open force or privy assassinations on the part of the 
 Papists, some ingenious artist, belonging, we may pre- 
 sume, to the worshipful Mercers' Company, had con- 
 trived a species of armour, of which neither the horse- 
 armoury in the Tower, nor Gwynnap's Gothic Hall, no, 
 nor Dr. Meyrick's invaluable collection of ancient arms, 
 has preserved any specimen. It was called silk armour,^ 
 being composed of a doublet and breeches of quilted 
 silk, so closely stitched, and of such thickness, as to be 
 ' See Note 9. 
 186
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 proof against either bullet or steel; while a thick bonnet, 
 of the same materials, with ear-flaps attached to it, and, 
 on the whole, much resembhng a nightcap, completed 
 the equipment, and ascertained the security of the wearer 
 from the head to the knee. 
 
 Master Maulstatute, among other worthy citizens, 
 had adopted this singular panoply, which had the advan- 
 tage of being soft, and warm, and flexible, as well as safe. 
 And he now sat in his judicial elbow-chair — a short, 
 rotund figure, hung round, as it were, with cushions, for 
 such was the appearance of the quilted garments; and 
 with a nose protruded from under the silken casque the 
 size of which, together with the unwieldiness of the whole 
 figure, gave his worship no indifferent resemblance to 
 the sign of the Hog in Armour, which was considerably 
 improved by the defensive garment being of a dusky 
 orange-colour, not altogether unlike the hue of those 
 half-wild swine which are to be found in the forests of 
 Hampshire. 
 
 Secure in these invulnerable envelopments, his wor- 
 ship had rested content, although severed from his own 
 death-doing weapons of rapier, poniard, and pistols, 
 which were placed, nevertheless, at no great distance 
 from his chair. One offensive implement, indeed, he 
 thought it prudent to keep on the table beside his huge 
 " Coke upon Lyttleton." This was a sort of pocket-flail, 
 consisting of a piece of strong ash, about eighteen inches 
 long, to which was attached a swinging club of lignum 
 vitcB, nearly twice as long as the handle, but jointed so as 
 to be easily folded up. This instrument, which bore at 
 that time the singular name of the Protestant flail, might 
 be concealed under the coat until circumstances de- 
 
 187
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 manded its public appearance. A better precaution 
 against surprise than his arms, whether offensive or de- 
 fensive, was a strong iron grating, which, crossing the 
 room in front of the justice's table, and communicating 
 by a grated door, which was usually kept locked, effect- 
 ually separated the accused party from his judge. 
 
 Justice Maulstatute, such as we have described him, 
 chose to hear the accusation of the witnesses before call- 
 ing on Peveril for his defence. The detail of the affray 
 was briefly given by the bystanders, and seemed deeply 
 to touch the spirit of the examinator. He shook his silken 
 casque emphatically when he understood that, after 
 some language betwixt the parties, which the witnesses 
 did not quite understand, the young man in custody 
 struck the first blow, and drew his sword before the 
 wounded party had unsheathed his weapon. Again he 
 shook his crested head yet more solemnly, when the re- 
 sult of the conflict was known; and yet again, when one 
 of the witnesses declared that, to the best of his know- 
 ledge, the sufferer in the fray was a gentleman belonging 
 to the household of his Grace the Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 'A worthy peer,' quoth the armed magistrate — 'a 
 true Protestant, and a friend to his country. Mercy on 
 us, to what a height of audacity hath this age arisen! 
 We see weU, and could, were we as blind as a mole, out 
 of what quiver this shaft hath been drawn ! ' 
 
 He then put on his spectacles, and having desired 
 Julian to be brought forward, he glared upon him aw- 
 fully with those glazen eyes from under the shade of his 
 quilted turban. 
 
 'So young,' he said, 'and so hardened — lack-a-day! 
 and a Papist, I'll warrant.' 
 
 i88
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Peveril had time enough to recollect the necessity of 
 his being at large, if he could possibly obtain his freedom, 
 and interposed here a civil contradiction of his worship's 
 gracious supposition. ' He was no Catholic,' he said, ' but 
 an unworthy member of the Church of England.' 
 
 'Perhaps but a lukewarm Protestant, notwithstand- 
 ing,' said the sage justice; 'there are those amongst us 
 who ride tantivy to Rome, and have already made out 
 half the journey — ahem ! ' 
 
 Peveril disowned his being any such. 
 
 'And who art thou, then? ' said the justice; ' for, friend, 
 to tell you plainly, I like not your visage — ahem ! ' 
 
 These short and emphatic coughs were accompanied 
 each by a succinct nod, intimating the perfect conviction 
 of the speaker that he had made the best, the wisest, and 
 the most acute observation of which the premises ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 Julian, irritated by the whole circumstances of his 
 detention, answered the justice's interrogation in rather 
 a lofty tone — * My name is Julian Peveril ! ' 
 
 'Now, Heaven be around us!' said the terrified jus- 
 tice; 'the son of that black-hearted Papist and traitor, 
 Sir Geoffrey Peveril, now in hands, and on the verge of 
 trial!' 
 
 'How, sir!' exclaimed Julian, forgetting his situation, 
 and, stepping forward to the grating with a violence 
 which made the bars clatter, he so startled the appalled 
 justice that, snatching his Protestant flail. Master Maul- 
 statute aimed a blow at his prisoner, to repel what he 
 apprehended was a premeditated attack. But whether 
 it was owing to the justice's hurry of mind or inexperi- 
 ence in managing the weapon, he not only missed his 
 
 189
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 aim, but brought the swinging part of the machine round 
 his own skull, with such a severe counter-buff as com- 
 pletely to try the efficacy of his cushioned helmet, and, 
 in spite of its defence, to convey a stunning sensation, 
 which he rather hastily imputed to the consequence of a 
 blow received from Peveril. 
 
 His assistants did not indeed directly confirm the 
 opinion which the justice had so unwarrantably adopted ; 
 but all with one voice agreed that, but for their own 
 active and instantaneous interference, there was no 
 knowing what mischief might have been done by a per- 
 son so dangerous as the prisoner. The general opinion 
 that he meant to proceed in the matter of his own rescue 
 par vote du fait was indeed so deeply impressed on all 
 present, that Julian saw it would be in vain to offer any 
 defence, especially being but too conscious that the 
 alarming, and probably the fatal, consequences of his 
 rencontre with the bully rendered his commitment in- 
 evitable. He contented himself with asking into what 
 prison he was to be thrown; and when the formidable 
 word Newgate was returned as full answer, he had at 
 least the satisfaction to reflect that, stern and dangerous 
 as was the shelter of that roof, he should at least enjoy 
 it in company with his father; and that, by some means 
 or other, they might perhaps obtain the satisfaction of 
 a melancholy meeting, imder the circumstances of mu- 
 tual calamity which seemed impending over their house. 
 
 Assuming the virtue of more patience than he actually 
 possessed, Julian gave the magistrate, to whom all the 
 mildness of his demeanour could not, however, reconcile 
 him, the direction to the house where he lodged, to- 
 gether with a request that his servant, Lance Outram, 
 
 190
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK' 
 
 might be permitted to send him his money and wearing- 
 apparel; adding, that all which might be in his posses- 
 sion, either of arms or writings — the former amounting 
 to a pair of travelling-pistols, and the last to a few memo- 
 randa of little consequence — he willingly consented to 
 place at the disposal of the magistrate. It was in that 
 moment that he entertained, with sincere satisfaction, 
 the comforting reflection that the important papers of 
 Lady Derby were already in the possession of the sover- 
 eign. 
 
 The justice promised attention to his requests; but 
 reminded him, with great dignity, that his present com- 
 placent and submissive behaviour ought, for his own 
 sake, to have been adopted from the beginning, instead 
 of disturbing the presence of magistracy with such atro- 
 cious marks of the malignant, rebellious, and murderous 
 spirit of Popery as he had at first exhibited. *Yet,' he 
 said, ' as he was a goodly young man, and of honourable 
 quality, he would not suffer him to be dragged through 
 the streets as a felon, but had ordered a coach for his 
 accommodation . ' 
 
 His honour. Master Maulstatute, uttered the word 
 'coach' with the importance of one who, as Dr. John- 
 son saith of later date, is conscious of the dignity of 
 putting horses to his chariot. The worshipful Master 
 Maulstatute did not, however, on this occasion, do Ju- 
 lian the honour of yoking to his huge family caroche 
 the two 'frampal jades,' to use the term of the period, 
 which were wont to drag that ark to the meeting-house 
 of pure and precious Master Howlaglass on a Thurs- 
 day's evening for lecture, and on a Sunday for a four- 
 hours' sermon. He had recourse to a leathern conven- 
 
 191
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ience, then more rare, but just introduced, with every 
 prospect of the great facility which has since been af- 
 forded by hackney coaches to all manner of communi- 
 cation, honest and dishonest, legal and illegal. Our 
 friend Julian, hitherto much more accustomed to the 
 saddle than to any other conveyance, soon found him- 
 self in a hackney carriage, with the constable and two 
 assistants for his companions, armed up to the teeth — 
 the port of destination being, as they had already inti- 
 mated, the ancient fortress of Newgate. 
 
 I
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 T is the black-ban dog of our jail. Pray look on him, 
 But at a wary distance. Rouse him not; 
 He bays not till he worries. 
 
 The Black Dog oj Newgale. 
 
 The coach stopped before those tremendous gates 
 which resemble those of Tartarus, save only that they 
 rather more frequently permit safe and honourable 
 egress; although at the price of the same anxiety and 
 labour with which Hercules and one or two of the demi- 
 gods extricated themselves from the hell of the ancient 
 mythology, and sometimes, it is said, by the assistance 
 of the golden boughs. 
 
 Julian stepped out of the vehicle, carefully supported 
 on either side by his companions, and also by one or two 
 turnkeys, whom the first summons of the deep bell at 
 the gate had called to their assistance. That attention, 
 it may be guessed, was not bestowed lest he should make 
 a false step, so much as for fear of his attempting an es- 
 cape, of which he had no intentions. A few prentices 
 and straggling boys of the neighbouring market, which 
 derived considerable advantage from increase of custom 
 in consequence of the numerous committals on account 
 of the Popish Plot, and who therefore were zealous 
 Protestants, saluted him on his descent with jubilee 
 shouts of * Whoop, Papist! — whoop, Papist! D — n to 
 the Pope and all his adherents ! ' 
 
 Under such auspices, Peveril was ushered in beneath 
 that gloomy gateway where so many bid adieu on their 
 
 «8 193
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 entrance at once to honour and to life. The dark and 
 dismal arch under which he soon found himself opened 
 upon a large courtyard, where a number of debtors were 
 employed in playing at hand-ball, pitch-and-toss, hustle- 
 cap, and other games; for which relaxations the rigour 
 of their creditors afforded them full leisure, while it 
 debarred them the means of pursuing the honest labour 
 by which they might have redeemed their affairs and 
 maintained their starving and beggared families. 
 
 But with this careless and desperate group Julian 
 was not to be numbered, being led, or rather forced, by 
 his conductors into a low arched door, which, carefully 
 secured by bolts and bars, opened for his reception on 
 one side of the archway, and closed, with all its fasten- 
 ings, the moment after his hasty entrance. He was then 
 conducted along two or three gloomy passages, which, 
 where they intersected each other, were guarded by as 
 many strong wickets, one of iron grates and the others 
 of stout oak, clenched with plates and studded with 
 nails of the same metal. He was not allowed to pause 
 until he found himself hurried into a little round vaulted 
 room, which several of these passages opened into, and 
 which seemed, with respect to the labyrinth through 
 part of which he had passed, to resemble the central 
 point of a spider's web, in which the main lines of that 
 reptile's curious maze are always found to terminate. 
 
 The resemblance did not end here; for in this small 
 vaulted apartment, the walls of which were hung round 
 with musketoons, pistols, cutlasses, and other weapons, 
 as well as with many sets of fetters and irons of different 
 construction, all disposed in great order and ready for 
 employment, a person sat who might not unaptly be 
 
 194
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 compared to a huge bloated and bottled spider, placed 
 there to secure the prey which had fallen into his 
 toils. 
 
 This oflScial had originally been a very strong and 
 square-built man of large size, but was now so over- 
 grown, from over-feeding, perhaps, and want of exer- 
 cise, as to bear the same resemblance to his former self 
 which a stall-fed ox still retains to a wild bull. The look 
 of no man is so inauspicious as a fat man upon whose 
 features ill-nature has marked an habitual stamp. He 
 seems to have reversed the old proverb of 'laugh and 
 be fat,' and to have thriven under the influence of the 
 worst affections of the mind. Passionate we can allow a 
 jolly mortal to be; but it seems unnatural to his goodly 
 case to be sulky and brutal. Now, this man's features, 
 surly and tallow-coloured, his limbs swelled and dis- 
 proportioned, his huge paunch and unwieldy carcass, sug- 
 gested the idea that, having once found his way into 
 this central recess, he had there battened, like the weasel 
 in the fable, and fed largely and foully, until he had be- 
 come incapable of retreating through any of the narrow 
 paths that terminated at his cell; and was thus compelled 
 to remain, like a toad under the cold stone, fattening 
 amid the squalid airs of the dungeons by which he was 
 surrounded, which would have proved pestiferous to any 
 other than such a congenial inhabitant. Huge iron- 
 clasped books lay before this ominous specimen of 
 pinguitude — the records of the realm of misery, in 
 which office he officiated as prime minister; and had 
 Peveril come thither as an unconcerned visitor, his 
 heart would have sunk within him at considering the 
 mass of human wretchedness which must needs be regis- 
 
 195
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tered in these fatal volumes. But his own distresses sat 
 too heavy on his mind to permit any general reflections 
 of this nature. 
 
 The constable and this bulky official whispered to- 
 gether, after the former had delivered to the latter the 
 warrant of Julian's commitment. The word 'whispered' 
 is not quite accurate, for their communication was car- 
 ried on less by words than by looks and expressive signs; 
 by which, in all such situations, men learn to supply the 
 use of language, and to add mystery to what is in itself 
 sufficiently terrible to the captive. The only words which 
 could be heard were those of the warden, or, as he was 
 called then, the captain, of the jail — 'Another bird to 
 the cage?' 
 
 'Who will whistle "Pretty Pope of Rome" with any 
 starling in your "knight's ward,"' answered the con- 
 stable, with a facetious air, checked, however, by the 
 due respect to the superior presence in which he stood. 
 
 The Grim Feature relaxed into something like a smile 
 as he heard the officer's observation ; but instantly com- 
 posing himself into the stern solemnity which for an in- 
 stant had been disturbed, he looked fiercely at his new 
 guest, and pronounced, with an awful and emphatic, 
 yet rather an under-voice, the single and impressive 
 word 'Garnish!' 
 
 Julian Peveril replied with assumed composure; for 
 he had heard of the customs of such places, and was re- 
 solved to comply with them, so as if possible to obtain 
 the favour of seeing his father, which he shrewdly 
 guessed must depend on his gratifying the avarice of the 
 keeper. 'I am quite ready,' he said, 'to accede to the 
 customs of the place in which I unhappily find myself. 
 
 196
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 You have but to name your demands, and I will satisfy 
 them.' 
 
 So saying, he drew out his purse, thinking himself 
 at the same time fortunate that he had retained about 
 him a considerable sum of gold. The captain remarked 
 its width, depth, its extension and depression, with an 
 involuntary smile, which had scarce contorted his hang- 
 ing under-lip and the wiry and greasy mustache which 
 thatched the upper, when it was checked by the recol- 
 lection that there were regulations which set bounds to 
 his rapacity, and prevented him from pouncing on his 
 prey Hke a kite and swooping it all off at once. 
 
 This chilling reflection produced the following sullen 
 reply to Peveril: — 'There were sundry rates. Gentle- 
 men must choose for themselves. He asked nothing but 
 his fees. But civility,' he muttered, 'must be paid for.' 
 
 'And shall, if I can have it for payment,' said Peveril; 
 'but the price, my good sir — the price?' 
 
 He spoke with some degree of scorn, which he was the 
 less anxious to repress, that he saw, even in this Jail, his 
 purse gave him an indirect but powerful influence over 
 his jailor. 
 
 The captain seemed to feel the same ; for, as he spoke, 
 he plucked from his head, almost involuntarily, a sort 
 of scalded fur-cap, which served it for covering. But his 
 fingers, revolting from so unusual an act of complaisance, 
 began to indemnify themselves by scratching his grizzly 
 shock-head, as he muttered, in a tone resembling the 
 softened growling of a mastiff when he has ceased to bay 
 the intruder who shows no fear of him — 'There are 
 different rates. There is the "little ease," for common 
 fees of the crown — rather dark, and the common sewer 
 
 197
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 runs below it; and some gentlemen object to the com- 
 pany, who are chiefly padders and michers. Then the 
 "master's side" — the garnish came to one piece, and 
 none lay stowed there but who were in for murder at 
 the least.' 
 
 ' Name your highest price, sir, and take it,' was Ju- 
 lian's concise reply. 
 
 'Three pieces for the "knight's ward,"' answered the 
 governor of this terrestrial Tartarus. 
 
 ' Take five and place me with Sir Geoffrey,' was again 
 Julian's answer, throwing down the money upon the 
 desk before him. 
 
 *Sir Geoffrey! Hum! — ay, Sir Geoffrey,' said the 
 jailor, as if meditating what he ought to do. ' Well, many 
 a man has paid money to see Sir Geoffrey — scarce so 
 much as you have, though. But then you are like to see 
 the last on him — ha, ha, ha!' 
 
 These broken muttered exclamations, which termin- 
 ated with a laugh somewhat like the joyous growl of a 
 tiger over his meal, Julian could not comprehend, and 
 only replied to by repeating his request to be placed in 
 the same cell with Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 'Ay, master,' said the jailor, 'never fear, I'll keep 
 word with you, as you seem to know something of what 
 belongs to your station and mine. And hark ye, Jem 
 Chnk will fetch you the darbies.' 
 
 'Derby!' interrupted Julian. 'Has the earl or count- 
 ess — ' 
 
 'Earl or countess! Ha, ha, ha!' again laughed, or 
 rather growled, the warden. ' What is your head running 
 on? You are a high fellow, belike; but all is one here. 
 The darbies are the fetlocks — the fast-keepers, my 
 
 iq8
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 boy — the bail for good behaviour, my darling; and if 
 you are not the more conforming, I can add you a steel 
 nightcap and a curious bosom-friend, to keep you warm 
 of a winter night. But don't be disheartened : you have 
 behaved genteel, and you shall not be put upon. And 
 as for this here matter, ten to one it will turn out chance- 
 medley, or manslaughter, at the worst on 't; and then 
 it is but a singed thumb instead of a twisted neck — 
 always if there be no Papistry about it, for then I 
 warrant nothing. Take the gentleman's worship away, 
 Clink.' 
 
 A turnkey, who was one of the party that had ushered 
 Peveril into the presence of this Cerberus, now conveyed 
 him out in silence; and, under his guidance, the prisoner 
 was carried through a second labyrinth of passages with 
 cells opening on each side, to that which was destined 
 for his reception. 
 
 On the road through this sad region, the turnkey more 
 than once ejaculated, 'Why, the gentleman must be 
 stark mad! Could have had the best crown cell to him- 
 self for less than half the garnish, and must pay double 
 to pig in with Sir Geoffrey ! Ha, ha ! Is Sir Geofifrey akin 
 to you, if any one may make free to ask?' 
 
 *I am his son,' answered Peveril, sternly, in hopes to 
 impose some curb on the fellow's impertinence; but the 
 man only laughed louder than before. 
 
 'His son! Why, that's best of all. Why, you are a 
 strapping youth — five feet ten, if you be an inch — 
 and Sir Geoffrey's son! Ha, ha, ha!' 
 
 'Truce with your impertinence,' said Julian. 'My 
 situation gives you no title to insult me!' 
 
 'No more I do,' said the turnkey, smothering his 
 
 199
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 mirth at the recollection, perhaps, that the prisoner's 
 purse was not exhausted. 'I only laughed because you 
 said you were Sir Geoffrey's son. But no matter — 't is 
 a wise child that knows his own father. And here is Sir 
 Geoffrey's cell; so you and he may settle the fatherhood 
 between you.' 
 
 So saying, he ushered his prisoner into a cell, or rather 
 a strong room, of the better order, in which there were 
 four chairs, a truckle-bed, and one or two other articles 
 of furniture. 
 
 Julian looked eagerly around for his father; but to his 
 surprise the room appeared totally empty. He turned 
 with anger on the turnkey, and charged him with mis- 
 leading him; but the fellow answered, 'No — no, mas- 
 ter; I have kept faith with you. Your father, if you call 
 him so, is only tappiced in some corner. A small hole 
 will hide him; but I'll rouse him out presently for you. 
 Here, hoicks ! Turn out, Sir Geoffrey ! Here is — ha, ha, 
 ha! — your son — or your wife's son — for I think you 
 can have but little share in him — come to wait on you.' 
 
 Peveril knew not how to resent the man's insolence; 
 and indeed his anxiety and apprehension of some strange 
 mistake mingled with, and in some degree neutralised, his 
 anger. He looked again and again, around and around 
 the room ; until at length he became aware of something 
 rolled up in a dark corner, which rather resembled a 
 small bundle of crimson cloth than any living creature. 
 At the vociferation of the turnkey, however, the object 
 seemed to acquire life and motion — uncoiled itself in 
 some degree, and, after an effort or two, gained an erect 
 posture; still covered from top to toe with the crimson 
 drapery in which it was at first wrapped. Julian, at 
 
 200
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the first glance, imagined from the size that he saw a 
 child of five years old; but a shrill and peculiar tone of 
 voice soon assured him of his mistake. 
 
 'Warder,' said this unearthly sound, 'what is the 
 meaning of this disturbance? Have you more insults 
 to heap on the head of one who hath ever been the butt 
 of fortune's malice? But I have a soul that can wrestle 
 with all my misfortunes; it is as large as any of your 
 bodies.' 
 
 'Nay, Sir Geoffrey, if this be the way you welcome 
 your own son !' said the turnkey; 'but you quality folks 
 know your own ways best.' 
 
 *My son!' exclaimed the little figure. 'Audacious — ' 
 . 'Here is some strange mistake,' said Peveril, in the 
 same breath. 'I sought Sir Geoffrey — ' 
 
 'And you have him before you, young man,' said the 
 pigmy tenant of the cell, with an air of dignity; at the 
 same time casting on the floor his crimson cloak, and 
 standing before them in his full dignity of three feet 
 six inches of height. 'I, who was the favoured servant 
 of three successive sovereigns of the crown of England, 
 am now the tenant of this dungeon, and the sport of its 
 brutal keepers. I am Sir Geoffrey Hudson.' 
 
 Julian, though he had never before seen this important 
 personage, had no difficulty in recognising, from descrip- 
 tion, the celebrated dwarf of Henrietta Maria, who had 
 survived the dangers of civil war and private quarrel, 
 the murder of his royal master, Charles I, and the exile 
 of his widow, to fall upon evil tongues and evil days 
 amidst the unsparing accusations connected with the 
 Popish Plot. He bowed to the unhappy old man, and 
 hastened to explain to him and to the turnkey that it was 
 
 201 
 
 SANTA ^mm STATE COLLEGE IMk
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Martindale Castle in Derbyshire 
 whose prison he had desired to share. 
 
 'You should have said that before you parted with 
 the gold-dust, my master,' answered the turnkey; 'for 
 t'other Sir Geoffrey — that is the big, tall, grey-haired 
 man — was sent to the Tower last night ; and the cap- 
 tain will think he has kept his word well enow with you 
 by lodging you with this here Sir Geoffrey Hudson, who 
 is the better show of the two.' 
 
 *I pray you go to your master,' said Peveril, 'explain 
 the mistake, and say to him I beg to be sent to the 
 Tower.' 
 
 'The Tower! Ha, ha, ha!' exclaimed the fellow. 'The 
 Tower is for lords and knights, and not for squires of 
 low degree; for high treason, and not for ruffling on the 
 streets with rapier and dagger; and there must go a 
 secretary's warrant to send you there.' 
 
 'At least, let me not be a burden on this gentleman,' 
 said Julian. 'There can be no use in quartering us to- 
 gether, since we are not even acquainted. Go tell your 
 master of the mistake.' 
 
 'Why, so I should,' said Clink, still grinning, 'if I were 
 not sure that he knew it already. You paid to be sent 
 to Sir Geoffrey, and he sent you to Sir Geoffrey. You 
 are so put down in the register, and he will blot it for no 
 man. Come — come, be conformable, and you shall have 
 light and easy irons — that's all I can do for you.' 
 
 Resistance and expostulation being out of the ques- 
 tion, Peveril submitted to have a light pair of fetters 
 secured on his ankles, which allowed him, nevertheless, 
 the power of traversing the apartment. 
 
 During this operation, he reflected that the jailor, who 
 
 202
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 had taken the advantage of the equivoque betwixt the 
 two Sir Geoffreys, must have acted as his assistant had 
 hinted, and cheated him from malice prepense, since the 
 warrant of committal described him as the son of Sir 
 Geofifrey Peveril. It was therefore in vain, as well as 
 degrading, to make further application to such a man 
 on the subject. Julian determined to submit to his fate, 
 as what could not be averted by any effort of his own. 
 
 Even the turnkey was moved in some degree by his 
 youth, good mien, and the patience with which, after 
 the first effervescence of disappointment, the new pris- 
 oner resigned himself to his situation. * You seem a brave 
 young gentleman,' he said, 'and shall at least have a 
 good dinner, and as good a pallet to sleep on as is within 
 the walls of Newgate. And, Master Sir Geoffrey, you 
 ought to make much of him, since you do not like tall 
 fellows; for I can tell you that Master Peveril is in for 
 pinking long Jack Jenkins, that was the master of de- 
 fence — as tall a man as is in London, always excepting 
 the King's porter. Master Evans, that carried you about 
 in his pocket, Sir Geoffrey, as all the world has heard 
 tell.' 
 
 'Begone, fellow!' answered the dwarf. * Fellow, I 
 scorn you ! ' 
 
 The turnkey sneered, withdrew, and locked the door 
 behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XXXrV 
 
 Degenerate youth, and not of Tydeus' kind. 
 Whose little body lodged a mighty mindl 
 
 Iliad. 
 
 Left quiet at least, if not alone, for the first time after 
 the events of this troubled and varied day, Julian threw 
 himself on an old oaken seat, beside the embers of 
 a sea-coal fire, and began to muse on the miserable situa- 
 tion of anxiety and danger in which he was placed, 
 where, whether he contemplated the interests of his 
 love, his family affections, or his friendships, all seemed 
 such a prospect as that of a sailor who looks upon break- 
 ers on every hand, from the deck of a vessel which no 
 longer obeys the helm. 
 
 As Peveril sat sunk in despondency, his companion 
 in misfortune drew a chair to the opposite side of the 
 chimney-corner, and began to gaze at him with a sort 
 of solemn earnestness, which at length compelled him, 
 though almost in spite of himself, to pay some attention 
 to the singular figure who seemed so much engrossed 
 with contemplating him. 
 
 Geoffrey Hudson (we drop occasionally the title of 
 knighthood, which the King had bestowed on him in a 
 frolic, but which might introduce some confusion into 
 our history), although a dwarf of the least possible size, 
 had nothing positively ugly in his countenance or actually 
 distorted in his limbs. His head, hands, and feet were 
 indeed large, and disproportioned to the height of his 
 body, and his body itself much thicker than was con- 
 
 204
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 sistent with symmetry, but in a degree which was rather 
 ludicrous than disagreeable to look upon. His counte- 
 nance, in particular, had he been a little taller, would 
 have been accounted, in youth, handsome, and now, in 
 age, striking and expressive; it was but the uncommon 
 disproportion betwixt the head and the trunk which 
 made the features seem whimsical and bizarre — an 
 effect which was considerably increased by the dwarf's 
 mustaches, which it was his pleasure to wear so large 
 that they almost twisted back amongst, and mingled 
 with, his grizzled hair. 
 
 The dress of this singular wight announced that he 
 was not entirely free from the unhappy taste which fre- 
 quently induces those whom nature has marked by per- 
 sonal deformity to distinguish, and at the same time to 
 render themselves ridiculous, by the use of showy colours 
 and garments fantastically and extraordinarily fashioned. 
 But poor Geoffrey Hudson's laces, embroideries, and the 
 rest of his finery were sorely worn and tarnished by 
 the time which he had spent in jail under the vague and 
 malicious accusation that he was somehow or other an 
 accomplice in this all-involving, all-devouring whirlpool 
 of a Popish conspiracy — an impeachment which, if 
 pronounced by a mouth the foulest and most malicious, 
 was at that time sufficiently predominant to sully the 
 fairest reputation. It will presently appear that, in the 
 poor man's manner of thinking and tone of conversation, 
 there was something analogous to his absurd fashion of 
 apparel ; for, as in the latter good stuff and valuable de- 
 corations were rendered ludicrous by the fantastic fashion 
 in which they were made up; so, such glimmerings of 
 good sense and honourable feeling as the little man often 
 
 205
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 evinced were made ridiculous by a restless desire to as- 
 sume certain airs of importance, and a great jealousy 
 of being despised on account of the peculiarity of his 
 outward form. 
 
 After the fellow-prisoners had looked at each other 
 for some time in silence, the dwarf, conscious of his dig- 
 nity as first owner of their joint apartment, thought it 
 necessary to do the honours of it to the new-comer. 
 *Sir/ he said, modifying the alternate harsh and squeak- 
 ing tones of his voice into accents as harmonious as they 
 could attain, *I understand you to be the son of my 
 worthy namesake and ancient acquaintance, the stout 
 Sir Geofifrey Peveril of the Peak. I promise you, I have 
 seen your father where blows have been going more 
 plenty than gold pieces; and for a tall heavy man, who 
 lacked, as we martiaHsts thought, some of the lightness 
 and activity of our more slightly made Cavaliers, he 
 performed his duty as a man might desire. I am happy 
 to see you, his son; and, though by a mistake, I am glad 
 we are to share this comfortless cabin together.' 
 
 Julian bowed, and thanked his courtesy; and Geoffrey 
 Hudson, having broken the ice, proceeded to question 
 him without further ceremony. 'You are no courtier, 
 I presume, young gentleman?' 
 
 Julian replied in the negative. 
 
 *I thought so,' continued the dwarf; 'for although I 
 have now no official duty at court, the region in which 
 my early years were spent, and where I once held a con- 
 siderable office, yet I still, when I had my hberty, visited 
 the presence from time to time, as in duty bound for 
 former service; and am wont, from old habit, to take 
 some note of the courtly gallants, those choice spirits of 
 
 206
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the age, among whom I was once enrolled. You are, not 
 to compliment you, a marked figure, Master Peveril, 
 though something of the tallest, as was your father's 
 case; I think I could scarce have seen you anywhere 
 without remembering you,' 
 
 Peveril thought he might, with great justice, have 
 returned the compliment; but contented himself with 
 saying, 'He had scarce seen the British court.' 
 
 "Tis pity,' said Hudson; *a gallant can hardly be 
 formed without frequenting it. But you have been 
 perhaps in a rougher school: you have served, doubt- 
 less?' 
 
 *My Maker, I hope,' said Julian. 
 
 'Fie on it, you mistake. I meant,' said Hudson, 'd la 
 Franqoise : you have served in the army? ' 
 
 'No. I have not yet had that honour,' said Julian. 
 
 'What! neither courtier nor soldier. Master Peveril?* 
 said the important little man. 'Your father is to blame. 
 By cock and pie he is. Master Peveril! How shall a man 
 be known or distinguished unless by his bearing in peace 
 and war? I tell you, sir, that at Newberry, where I 
 charged with my troop abreast with Prince Rupert, and 
 when, as you may have heard, we were both beaten ojQf 
 by those cuckoldly hinds the trained bands of London, 
 we did what men could ; and I think it was a matter of 
 three or four minutes after most of our gentlemen had been 
 driven off, that his Highness and I continued to cut at 
 their long pikes with our swords, and I think might have 
 broken in, but that I had a tall, long-legged brute of a 
 horse, and my sword was somewhat short — in fine, at 
 last we were obliged to make volte-face, and then, as I 
 was going to say, the fellows were so glad to get rid of us 
 
 207
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 that they set up a great jubilee cry of " There goes Prince 
 Robin and Cock Robin!" Ay — ay, every scoundrel 
 among them knew me well. But those days are over. 
 And where were you educated, young gentleman?' 
 
 Peveril named the household of the Countess of Derby. 
 
 *A most honourable lady, upon my word as a gentle- 
 man,' said Hudson. 'I knew the noble countess well, 
 when I was about the person of my royal mistress, Hen- 
 rietta Maria. She was then the very muster of all that 
 was noble, loyal, and lovely. She was, indeed, one of the 
 fifteen fair ones of the court whom I permitted to call 
 me Piccoluomini — a foohsh jest on my somewhat di- 
 minutive figure, which always distinguished me from 
 ordinary beings, even when I was young. I have now 
 lost much stature by stooping, but always the ladies 
 had their jest at me. Perhaps, young man, I had my own 
 amends of some of them somewhere, and somehow or 
 other — I say nothing if I had or no, far less do I insinu- 
 ate disrespect to the noble countess. She was daughter 
 of the Due de la Tremouille, or, more correctly, Des 
 Thouars. But certainly to serve the ladies, and con- 
 descend to their humours, even when somewhat too free 
 or too fantastic, is the true decorum of gentle blood.' 
 
 Depressed as his spirits were, Peveril could scarce for- 
 bear smiling when he looked at the pigmy creature, who 
 told these stories with infinite complacency, and ap- 
 peared disposed to proclaim, as his own herald,, that he 
 had been a very model of valour and gallantry, though 
 love and arms seemed to be pursuits totally irrecon- 
 cilable to his shrivelled, weather-beaten countenance 
 and wasted limbs. Julian was, however, so careful to 
 avoid giving his companion pain, that he endeavoured to 
 
 208
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 humour him by saying that, 'Unquestionably, one bred 
 up like Sir Geoffrey Hudson, in courts and camps, knew 
 exactly when to suffer personal freedoms and when to 
 control them.' 
 
 The little knight, with great vivacity, though with 
 some difficulty, began to drag his seat from the side of 
 the fire opposite to that where Julian was seated, and at 
 length succeeded in bringing it near him, in token of in- 
 creasing cordiality. 
 
 'You say well, Master Peveril,' said the dwarf; 'and 
 I have given proofs both of bearing and forbearing. 
 Yes, sir, there was not that thing which my most royal 
 mistress, Henrietta Maria, could have required of me, 
 that I would not have complied with, sir: I was her 
 sworn servant, both in war and in festival, in battle and 
 pageant, sir. At her Majesty's particular request, I 
 once condescended to become — ladies, you know, have 
 strange fancies — to become the tenant, for a time, of 
 the interior of a pie.' 
 
 'Of a pie!' said Juhan, somewhat amazed. 
 
 'Yes, sir, of a pie. I hope you find nothing risible in 
 my complaisance?' replied his companion, something 
 jealously. 
 
 'Not I, sir,' said Peveril; 'I have other matters than 
 laughter in my head at present.' 
 
 'So had I,' said the dwarfish champion, 'when I found 
 myself imprisoned in a huge platter, of no ordinary di- 
 mensions you may be assured, since I could lie at length 
 in it, and when I was entombed, as it were, in walls of 
 standing crust and a huge cover of pastry, the whole 
 constituting a sort of sarcophagus, of size enough to 
 have recorded the epitaph of a general officer or an arch- 
 28 209
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 bishop on the lid. Sir, notwithstanding the conveniences 
 which were made to give me air, it was more like being 
 buried alive than aught else which I could think of ?'^ 
 
 *I conceive it, sir,' said Julian. 
 
 'Moreover, sir,' continued the dwarf, 'there were few 
 in the secret, which was contrived for the Queen's di- 
 vertisement ; for advancing of which I would have crept 
 into a filbert nut, had it been possible; and few, as I said, 
 being private in the scheme, there was a risk of acci- 
 dents. I doubted, while in my darksome abode, whether 
 some awkward attendant might not have let me fall, as 
 I have seen happen to a venison pasty ; or whether some 
 hungry guest might not anticipate the moment of my 
 resurrection, by sticking his knife into my upper crust. 
 And though I had my weapons about me, young man, 
 as has been my custom in every case of peril, yet, if such 
 a rash person had plunged deep into the bowels of the 
 supposed pasty, my sword and dagger could barely have 
 served me to avenge, assuredly not to prevent, either 
 of these catastrophes.' 
 
 'Certainly I do so understand it,' said Julian, who be- 
 gan, however, to feel that the company of little Hudson, 
 talkative as he showed himself, was likely rather to ag- 
 gravate than to alleviate the inconveniences of a prison. 
 
 'Nay,' continued the little man, enlarging on his 
 former topic, ' I had other subjects of apprehension ; for 
 it pleased my Lord of Buckingham, his Grace's father 
 who now bears the title, in his plenitude of court favour, 
 to command the pasty to be carried down to the office, 
 and committed anew to the oven, alleging preposterously 
 that it was better to be eaten warm than cold.' 
 
 ^ See Note lo. 
 210
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'And did this, sir, not disturb your equanimity?' said 
 Julian. 
 
 'My young friend,' said Geoffrey Hudson, 'I cannot 
 deny it. Nature will claim her rights from the best and 
 boldest of us. I thought of Nebuchadnezzar and his 
 fiery furnace; and I waxed warm with apprehension. 
 But, I thank Heaven, I also thought of my sworn duty 
 to my royal mistress; and was thereby obliged and en- 
 abled to resist all temptations to make myself prema- 
 turely known. Nevertheless, the duke — if of malice, 
 may Heaven forgive him — followed down into the 
 office himself, and urged the master-cook very hard 
 that the pasty should be heated, were it but for five 
 minutes. But the master-cook, being privy to the very 
 different intentions of my royal mistress, did most man- 
 fully resist the order; and I was again reconveyed in 
 safety to the royal table.' 
 
 'And in due time liberated from your confinement, I 
 doubt not? ' said Peveril. 
 
 'Yes, sir; that happy, and I may say glorious, moment 
 at length arrived,' continued the dwarf. 'The upper 
 crust was removed; I started up to the sound of trum- 
 pet and clarion, Hke the soul of a warrior when the last 
 summons shall sound; or rather, if that simile be over 
 audacious, like a spell-bound champion relieved from 
 his enchanted state. It was then that, with my buckler 
 on my arm and my trusty Bilboa in my hand, I exe- 
 cuted a sort of warlike dance, in which my skill and agil- 
 ity then rendered me preeminent, displaying at the same 
 time my postures, both of defence and offence, in a man- 
 ner so totally inimitable, that I was almost deafened with 
 the applause of all around me, and half-drowned by the 
 
 211
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 scented waters with which the ladies of the court de- 
 luged me from their casting-bottles. I had amends of his 
 Grace of Buckingham also; for as I tripped a hasty 
 morris hither and thither upon the dining-table, now 
 offering my blade, now recovering it, I made a blow[^at 
 his nose — a sort of estramaqon, the dexterity of which 
 consists in coming mighty near to the object you seem 
 to aim at, yet not attaining it. You may have seen a 
 barber make such a flourish with his razor. I promise 
 you, his Grace sprung back a half-yard at least. He was 
 pleased to threaten to brain me with a chicken-bone, as 
 he disdainfully expressed it; but the King said, " George, 
 you have but a Rowland for an Oliver." And so I 
 tripped on, showing a bold heedlessness of his displea- 
 sure, which few dared to have done at that time, albeit 
 countenanced to the utmost Hke me by the smiles of the 
 brave and the fair. But, well-a-day! sir, youth, its 
 fashions, its follies, its frolics, and all its pomp and 
 pride, are as idle and transitory as the crackling of 
 thorns under a pot.' 
 
 'The flower that is cast into the oven were a better 
 simile,' thought Peveril. 'Good God, that a man should 
 live to regret not being young enough to be still treated 
 as baked meat and served up in a pie ! ' 
 
 His companion, whose tongue had for many days been 
 as closely imprisoned as his person, seemed resolved to 
 indemnify his loquacity by continuing to indulge it on 
 the present occasion at his companion's expense. He 
 proceeded, therefore, in a solemn tone, to moralise on 
 the adventure which he had narrated. 
 
 'Young men will no doubt think one to be envied,' he 
 said, 'who was thus enabled to be the darling and ad- 
 
 212
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 miration of the court (Julian internally stood self-ex- 
 culpated from the suspicion), and yet it is better to pos- 
 sess fewer means of distinction, and remain free from 
 the backbiting, the slander, and the odium which are 
 always the share of court favour. Men, who had no 
 other cause, cast reflections upon me because my size 
 varied somewhat from the common proportion; and jests 
 were sometimes unthinkingly passed upon me by those 
 I was bound to, who did not in that case, peradventure, 
 sufficiently consider that the wren is made by the same 
 hand which formed the bustard, and that the diamond, 
 though small in size, out-values ten thousand-fold the 
 rude granite. Nevertheless, they proceeded in the vein 
 of humour ; and as I could not in duty or gratitude retort 
 upon nobles and princes, I was compelled to cast about 
 in my mind how to vindicate my honour towards those 
 who, being in the same rank with myself as servants and 
 courtiers, nevertheless bore themselves towards me as if 
 they were of a superior class in the rank of honour, as 
 well as in the accidental circumstance of stature. And 
 as a lesson to my own pride and that of others, it so hap- 
 pened that the pageant which I have but just narrated 
 — which I justly reckon the most honourable moment 
 of my life, excepting perhaps my distinguished share in 
 the battle of Round-way-Down — became the cause of 
 a most tragic event, in which I acknowledge the great- 
 est misfortune of my existence.' 
 
 The dwarf here paused, fetched a sigh, big at once 
 with regret and with the importance becoming the sub- 
 ject of a tragic history ; then proceeded as follows : — 
 
 'You would have thought in your simplicity, young 
 gentleman, that the pretty pageant I have mentioned 
 
 213
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 could only have been quoted to my advantage as a rare 
 masking frolic, prettily devised, and not less deftly 
 executed; and yet the malice of the courtiers, who ma- 
 ligned and envied me, made them strain their wit and 
 exhaust their ingenuity in putting false and ridiculous 
 constructions upon it. In short, my ears were so much 
 offended with allusions to pies, puff-paste, ovens, and 
 the like, that I was compelled to prohibit such subject 
 of mirth, under penalty of my instant and severe dis- 
 pleasure. But it happ'd there was then a gallant about 
 the court, a man of good quality, son to a knight baronet, 
 and in high esteem with the best in that sphere, also a 
 familiar friend of mine own, from whom, therefore, I had 
 no reason to expect any of that species of gibing which 
 I had intimated my purpose to treat as offensive. How- 
 beit, it pleased the Honourable Mr. Crofts, so was this 
 youth called and designed, one night, at the groom por- 
 ter's, being full of wine and waggery, to introduce this 
 threadbare subject, and to say something concerning 
 a goose-pie, which I could not but consider as levelled at 
 me. Nevertheless, I did but calmly and solidly pray him 
 to choose a different subject; failing which, I let him 
 know I should be sudden in my resentment. Notwith- 
 standing, he continued in the same tone, and even ag- 
 gravated the offence by speaking of a tomtit, and other 
 unnecessary and obnoxious comparisons; whereupon I 
 was compelled to send him a cartel, and we met accord- 
 ingly. Now, as I really loved the youth, it was my in- 
 tention only to correct him by a flesh wound or two; and 
 I would willingly that he had named the sword for his 
 weapon. Nevertheless, he made pistols his election; 
 and being on horseback, he produced, by way of his 
 
 214
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 own weapon, a foolish engine which children are wont, 
 in their roguery, to use for spouting water — a — a — 
 in short I forget the name.' 
 
 *A squirt, doubtless,' said Peveril, who began to re- 
 collect having heard something of this adventure. 
 
 'You are right,' said the dwarf: 'you have indeed the 
 name of the little engine, of which I have had experience 
 in passing the yards at Westminster. Well, sir, this 
 token of slight regard compelled me to give the gentle- 
 man such language as soon rendered it necessary for 
 him to take more serious arms. We fought on horse- 
 back — breaking ground and advancing by signal; and, 
 as I never miss aim, I had the misadventure to kill the 
 Honourable Master Crofts at the first shot. I would not 
 wish my worst foe the pain which I felt when I saw him 
 reel on his saddle, and so fall down to the earth; and, 
 when I perceived that the life-blood was pouring fast, 
 I could not but wish to Heaven that it had been my own 
 instead of his. Thus fell youth, hopes, and bravery, a 
 sacrifice to a silly and thoughtless jest; yet, alas! wherein 
 had I choice, seeing that honour is, as it were, the very 
 breath in our nostrils, and that in no sense can we be 
 said to live if we permit ourselves to be deprived of it? ' 
 
 The tone of feeUng in which the dwarfish hero con- 
 cluded his story gave Julian a better opinion of his heart, 
 and even of his understanding, than he had been able to 
 form of one who gloried in having, upon a grand occa- 
 sion, formed the contents of a pasty. He was indeed 
 enabled to conjecture that the little champion was se- 
 duced into such exhibitions by the necessity attached to 
 his condition, by his own vanity, and by the flattery 
 bestowed on him by those who sought pleasure in prac- 
 
 215
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tical jokes. The fate of the unlucky Master Crofts, 
 however, as well as various exploits of this diminutive 
 person during the Civil Wars, in which he actually, and 
 with great gallantry, commanded a troop of horse, 
 rendered most men cautious of openly rallying him; 
 which was indeed the less necessary, as, when left alone, 
 he seldom failed voluntarily to show himself on the 
 ludicrous side. 
 
 At one hour after noon, the turnkey, true to his word, 
 supplied the prisoners with a very tolerable dinner and 
 a flask of well-flavoured, though light, claret, which the 
 old man, who was something of a bon-vivant, regretted to 
 observe was nearly as diminutive as himself. The even- 
 ing also passed away, but not without continued symp- 
 toms of garrulity on the part of Geoffrey Hudson. 
 
 It is true, these were of a graver character than he had 
 hitherto exhibited, for, when the flask was empty, he 
 repeated a long Latin prayer. But the religious act in 
 which he had been engaged only gave his discourse a 
 more serious turn than belonged to his former themes of 
 war, lady's love, and courtly splendour. 
 
 The little knight harangued, at first on polemical 
 points of divinity, and diverged from this thorny path 
 into the neighbouring and twilight walk of mysticism. 
 He talked of secret warnings, of the predictions of sad- 
 eyed prophets, of the visits of monitory spirits, and the 
 Rosicrucian secrets of the Cabala; all which topics he 
 treated of with such apparent conviction, nay, with so 
 many appeals to personal ex-perience, that one would 
 have supposed him a member of the fraternity of gnomes, 
 or fairies, whom he resembled so much in point of size. 
 
 In short, he persevered for a stricken hour in such a 
 
 216
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 torrent of unnecessary tattle as determined Peveril, at 
 all events, to endeavour to procure a separate lodging. 
 Having repeated his evening prayers in Latin, as for- 
 merly, for the old gentleman was a Catholic, which was 
 the sole cause of his falling under suspicion, he set off on 
 a new score, as they were undressing; and continued to 
 prattle until he had fairly talked both himself and his 
 companion to sleep.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 Of airy tongues that syllable men's names/ 
 
 Comus. 
 
 Julian had fallen asleep with his brain rather filled with 
 his own sad reflections than with the mystical lore of 
 the little knight; and yet it seemed as if in his visions 
 the latter had been more present to his mind than the 
 former. 
 
 He dreamed of gliding ■ spirits, gibbering phantoms, 
 bloody hands, which, dimly seen by twihght, seemed to 
 beckon him forward like errant-knight on sad adventure 
 bound. More than once he started from his sleep, so 
 lively was the influence of these visions on his imagina- 
 tion; and he always awaked under the impression that 
 some one stood by his bedside. The chillness of his 
 ankles, the weight and clatter of the fetters, as he turned 
 himself on his pallet, reminded him on these occasions 
 where he was, and imder what circumstances. The ex- 
 tremity to which he saw all that was dear to him at 
 present reduced struck a deeper cold on his heart than 
 the iron upon his limbs; nor could he compose himself 
 again to rest without a mental prayer to Heaven for 
 protection. But when he had been for a third time 
 awakened from repose by these thick-stirring fancies, 
 his distress of mind vented itself in speech, and he was 
 unable to suppress the almost despairing ejaculation, 
 * God have mercy upon us ! ' 
 
 * Amen! ' answered a voice as sweet and 'soft as honey 
 
 218
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 dew/ which sounded as if the words were spoken close 
 by his bedside. 
 
 The natural inference was that Geoffrey Hudson, his 
 companion in calamity, had echoed the prayer which 
 was so proper to the situation of both. But the tone of 
 voice was so different from the harsh and dissonant 
 sounds of the dwarf's enunciation, that Peveril was im- 
 pressed with the certainty it could not proceed from 
 Hudson. He was struck with involuntary terror, for 
 which he could give no sufficient reason ; and it was not 
 without an effort that he was able to utter the question 
 'Sir Geoffrey, did you speak?' 
 
 No answer was returned. He repeated the question 
 louder; and the same silver- toned voice which had for- 
 merly said ' Amen ' to his prayers answered to his inter- 
 rogatory, * Your companion will not awake while I am 
 here.' 
 
 'And who are you? What seek you? How came you 
 into this place?' said Peveril, huddling, eagerly, ques- 
 tion upon question. 
 
 *I am a wretched being, but one who loves you well. 
 I come for your good. Concern yourself no further.' 
 
 It now rushed on Julian's mind that he had heard of 
 persons possessed of the wonderful talent of counter- 
 feiting sounds to such accuracy that they could impose 
 on their hearers the belief that they proceeded from a 
 point of the apartment entirely opposite to that which 
 the real speaker occupied. Persuaded that he had now 
 gained the depth of the mystery, he replied, * This trifling, 
 Sir Geoffrey, is unseasonable. Say what you have to say 
 in your own voice and manner. These apish pleasantries 
 do not become midnight in a Newgate dungeon.' 
 
 219
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'But the being who speaks with you,' answered the 
 voice, ' is fitted for the darkest hour and the most melan- 
 choly haunts.' 
 
 Impatient of suspense, and determined to satisfy his 
 curiosity, Julian jumped at once from his pallet, hoping 
 to secure the speaker, whose voice indicated he was so 
 near. But he altogether failed in his attempt, and grasped 
 nothing save thin air. 
 
 For a turn or two, Peveril shuffled at random about 
 the room, with his arms extended; and then at last re- 
 collected that, with the impediment of his shackles, and 
 the noise which necessarily accompanied his motions, 
 and announced where he was, it would be impossible 
 for him to lay hands on any one who might be disposed 
 to keep out of his reach. He therefore endeavoured to 
 return to his bed ; but, in groping for his way. Ugh ted first 
 on that of his fellow-prisoner. The little captive slept 
 deep and heavy, as was evinced from his breathing ; and 
 upon listening a moment, Julian became again certain, 
 either that his companion was the most artful of ventrilo- 
 quists and of dissemblers, or that there was actually 
 within the precints of that guarded chamber some third 
 being, whose very presence there seemed to intimate 
 that it belonged not to the ordinary line of humanity, 
 
 Julian was no ready believer in the supernatural; but 
 that age was very far from being so incredulous concern- 
 ing ghostly occurrences as our own; and it was no way 
 derogatory to his good sense that he shared the preju- 
 dices of his time. His hair began to bristle, and the 
 moisture to stand on his brow, as he called on his com- 
 panion to awake, for Heaven's sake. 
 
 The dwarf answered — but he spoke without awak- 
 220
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ing — ' The day may dawn and be d — d. Tell the master 
 of the house I will not go to the hunting, unless I have 
 the little black jennet.' 
 
 * I tell you,' said Julian , ' there is some one in the apart- 
 ment. Have you not a tinder-box to strike a light? ' 
 
 *I care not how slight my horse be,' replied the slum- 
 berer, pursuing his own train of ideas, which, doubtless, 
 carried him back to the green woods of Windsor, and 
 the royal deer-hunts which he had witnessed there. *I 
 am not over-weight. I will not ride that great Holstein 
 brute, that I must climb up to by a ladder, and then sit 
 on his back like a pin-cushion on an elephant.' 
 
 Julian at length put his hand to the sleeper's shoulder 
 and shook him so as to awake him from his dream; 
 when, after two or three snorts and groans, the dwarf 
 asked, peevishly, 'What the devil ailed him?' 
 
 'The devil himself, for what I know,' said Peveril, 'is 
 at this very moment in the room here beside us.' 
 
 The dwarf on this information started up, crossed him- 
 self, and began to hammer a flint and steel with all de- 
 spatch, until he had lighted a little piece of candle, which 
 he said was consecrated to St. Bridget, and as powerful 
 as the herb called fuga dcemonum, or the liver of the fish 
 burnt by Tobit in the house of Raguel, for chasing all 
 goblins and evil or dubious spirits from the place of its 
 radiance; 'if, indeed,' as the dwarf carefully guarded his 
 proposition, 'they existed anywhere, save in the imagin- 
 ation of his fellow-prisoner.' 
 
 Accordingly, the apartment was no sooner enlight- 
 ened by this holy candle's end than Julian began to doubt 
 the evidence of his own ears; for not only was there no 
 one in the room save Sir Geoffrey Hudson and himself, 
 
 221
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 but all the fastenings of the door were so secure that it 
 seemed impossible that they could have been opened 
 and again fixed, without a great deal of noise, which, on 
 the last occasion at least, could not possibly have es- 
 caped his ears, seeing that he must have been on his feet, 
 and employed in searching the chamber, when the un- 
 known, if an earthly, being was in the act of retreating 
 from it. 
 
 Julian gazed for a moment with great earnestness, and 
 no little perplexity, first on the bolted door, then on the 
 grated window; and began to accuse his own imagina- 
 tion of having played him an unpleasant trick. He an- 
 swered little to the questions of Hudson, and returning 
 to his bed, heard, in silence, a long studied oration on 
 the merits of St. Bridget, which comprehended the 
 greater part of her long-winded legend, and concluded 
 with the assurance that, from all accounts preserved of 
 her, that holy saint was the least of all possible women, 
 except those of the pigmy kind. 
 
 By the time the dwarf had ceased to speak, Julian's 
 desire of sleep had returned; and after a few glances 
 around the apartment, which was still illuminated by 
 the expiring beams of the holy taper, his eyes were again 
 closed in forgetfulness, and his repose was not again dis- 
 turbed in the course of that night. 
 
 Morning dawns on Newgate, as well as on the freest 
 mountain- turf which Welshman or wild goat ever trode ; 
 but in so different a fashion, that the very beams of 
 heaven's precious sun, when they penetrate into the 
 recesses of the prison-house, have the air of being com- 
 mitted to jail. Still, with the Hght of day around him, 
 Peveril easily persuaded himself of the vanity of his 
 
 222
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 preceding night's visions; and smiled when he reflected 
 that fancies, similar to those to which his ear was often 
 exposed in the Isle of Man, had been able to arrange 
 themselves in a manner so impressive, when he heard 
 them from the mouth of so singular a character as Hud- 
 son, and in the solitude of a prison. 
 
 Before Julian had awaked, the dwarf had already 
 quitted his bed, and was seated in the chimney-corner 
 of the apartment, where, with his own hands, he had 
 arranged a morsel of fire, partly attending to the sim- 
 mering of a small pot, which he had placed on the flame, 
 partly occupied with a huge folio volume which lay on the 
 table before him, and seemed well-nigh as tall and bulky 
 as himself. He was wrapped up in the dusky crimson 
 cloak already mentioned, which served him for a morn- 
 ing-gown as well as a mantle against the cold, and 
 which corresponded with a large montero cap, that en- 
 veloped his head. The singularity of his features, and of 
 the eyes, armed with spectacles, which were now cast 
 on the subject of his studies, now directed towards his 
 little caldron, would have tempted Rembrandt to ex- 
 hibit him on canvas, either in the character of an al- 
 chemist or of a necromancer, engaged in some strange 
 experiment, under the direction of one of the huge man- 
 uals which treat of the theory of these mystic arts. 
 
 The attention of the dwarf was bent, however, upon a 
 more domestic object. He was only preparing soup, of 
 no unsavoury quality, for breakfast, which he invited 
 Peveril to partake with him. *I am an old soldier,' he 
 said, 'and, I must add, an old prisoner; and understand 
 how to shift for myself better than you can do, young 
 man. Confusion to the scoundrel Clink, he has put the 
 
 223
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 spice-box out of my reach! Will you hand it me from 
 the mantelpiece! I will teach you, as the French have 
 it, f aire la cuisine; and then, if you please, we will divide, 
 like brethren, the labours of our prison-house.' 
 
 Julian readily assented to the little man's friendly pro- 
 posal, without interposing any doubt as to his continu- 
 ing an inmate of the same cell. Truth is, that although, 
 upon the whole, he was inclined to regard the whispering 
 voice of the preceding evening as the impression of his 
 own excited fancy, he felt, nevertheless, curiosity to see 
 how a second night was to pass over in the same cell; 
 and the tone of the invisible intruder, which at midnight 
 had been heard by him with terror, now excited on recol- 
 lection a gentle and not unpleasing species of agitation 
 — the combined effect of awe and of awakened curiosity. 
 
 Days of captivity have little to mark them as they 
 glide away. That which followed the night which we 
 have described afforded no circumstance of note. The 
 dwarf imparted to his youthful companion a volume 
 similar to that which formed his own studies, and which 
 proved to be a tome of one of Scuderi's now forgotten 
 romances, of which Geoffrey Hudson was a great ad- 
 mirer, and which were then very fashionable both at the 
 French and English courts; although they contrive to 
 unite in their immense folios all the improbabilities and 
 absurdities of the old romances of chivalry, without that 
 tone of imagination which pervades them, and all the 
 metaphysical absurdities which Cowley and the poets 
 of the age had heaped upon the passion of love, Hke so 
 many load of small coal upon a slender fire, which it 
 smothers instead of aiding. 
 
 But Julian had no alternative saving only to muse 
 224
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 over the sorrows of Artamenes and Mandane, or on the 
 complicated distresses of his own sitiiation; and in these 
 disagreeable divertisements the morning crept through 
 as it could. 
 
 Noon first, and thereafter nightfall, were successively 
 marked by a brief visit from their stern turnkey, who, 
 with noiseless step and sullen demeanour, did in silence 
 the necessary offices about the meals of the prisoners, 
 exchanging with them as few words as an ofiicial in the 
 Spanish Inquisition might have permitted himself upon 
 a similar occasion. With the same taciturn gravity, 
 very different from the laughing humour into which he 
 had been surprised on a former occasion, he struck their 
 fetters with a small hammer, to ascertain, by the sound 
 thus produced, whether they had been tampered with 
 by file or otherwise. He next mounted on a table to make 
 the same experiment on the window-grating. 
 
 Julian's heart throbbed; for might not one of those 
 grates have been so tampered with as to give entrance 
 to the nocturnal visitant? But they returned to the 
 experienced ear of Master Clink, when he struck them 
 in turn with the hammer, a clear and ringing sound, 
 which assured him of their security. 
 
 'It would be difficult for any one to get in through 
 these defences,' said Julian, giving vent in words to his 
 own feelings. 
 
 'Few wish that,' answered the surly groom, miscon- 
 struing what was passing in Peveril's mind; 'and let me 
 tell you, master, folks will find it quite as difficult to get 
 out.' He retired, and night came on. 
 
 The dwarf, who took upon himself for the day the 
 whole duties of the apartment, trundled about the room, 
 
 S8 225
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 making a most important clutter as he extinguished their 
 fire, and put aside various matters which had been in 
 use in the course of the day, talking to himself all the 
 while in a tone of no little consequence, occasionally 
 grounded on the dexterity with which an old soldier 
 could turn his hand to everything, and at other times on 
 the wonder that a courtier of the first rank should conde- 
 scend to turn his hand to anything. Then came the 
 repetition of his accustomed prayers; but his disposi- 
 tion to converse did not, as on the former occasion, 
 revive after his devotions. On the contrary, long before 
 Julian had closed an eye, the heavy breathing from Sir 
 Geoffrey Hudson's pallet declared that the dwarf was 
 already in the arms of Morpheus. 
 
 Amid the total darkness of the apartment, and with a 
 longing desire, and at the same time no small fear, for the 
 recurrence of the mysterious address of the preceding 
 evening, Julian lay long awake without his thoughts 
 receiving any interruption, save when the clock told the 
 passing hour from the neighbouring steeple of St. Sepul- 
 chre. At length he sunk into slumber; but had not slept, 
 to his judgment, above an hour, when he was roused by 
 the sound which his waking ear had so long expected in 
 vain. 
 
 'Can you sleep? Will you sleep? Dare you sleep?' 
 were the questions impressed on his ear, in the same 
 clear, soft, and melodious voice which had addressed 
 him on the preceding night. 
 
 'Who is it asks me the question?' answered Julian. 
 ' But be the questioner good or evil, I reply that I am a 
 guiltless prisoner, and that innocence may wish and dare 
 to sleep soundly.' 
 
 226
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Ask no questions of me,' said the voice, 'neither 
 attempt to discover who speaks to you ; and be assured 
 that folly alone can sleep, with fraud around and danger 
 before him.' 
 
 * Can you, who tell me of dangers, counsel me how to 
 combat or how to avoid them? ' said Julian. 
 
 ' My power is limited,' said the voice ; ' yet something I 
 can do, as a glow-worm can show a precipice. But you 
 must confide in me.' 
 
 ' Confidence must beget confidence,' answered Julian. 
 *I cannot repose trust in I know not what or whom.' 
 
 'Speak not so loud,' replied the voice, sinking almost 
 into a whisper. 
 
 ' Last night you said my companion would not awake,' 
 said Julian. 
 
 'To-night I warrant not that he shall sleep,' said the 
 voice. And as it spoke, the hoarse, snatching, discordant 
 tones of the dwarf were heard, demanding of Julian why 
 he talked in his sleep ; wherefore he did not rest himself, 
 and let other people rest; and, finally, whether his visions 
 of last night were returned upon him again? 
 
 ' Say " yes, " ' said the voice, in a whisper so low, yet so 
 distinct, that Julian almost doubted whether it was not 
 an echo of his own thought — 'say but "yes," and I 
 part to return no more ! ' 
 
 In desperate circumstances men look to strange and 
 unusual remedies; and although unable to calculate the 
 chances of advantage which this singular communica- 
 tion opened to him, Julian did not feel inclined to let 
 them at once escape from him. He answered the dwarf, 
 that he had been troubled by an alarming dream. 
 
 'I could have sworn it, from the sound of your voice,' 
 227
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 said Hudson. *It is strange, now, that you overgrown 
 men never possess the extreme firmness of nerves proper 
 to us who are cast in a more compact mould. My own 
 voice retains its masculine sounds on all occasions. Dr. 
 Cockerel was of opinion that there was the same allow- 
 ance of nerve and sinew to men of every size, and that 
 nature spun the stock out thinner or stronger, according 
 to the extent of surface which they were to cover. Hence, 
 the least creatures are oftentimes the strongest. Place a 
 beetle under a tall candlestick, and the insect will move 
 it by its efforts to get out; which is, in point of com- 
 parative strength, as if one of us should shake his 
 Majesty's prison of Newgate by similar struggles. Cats 
 also, and weasels, are creatures of greater exertion and 
 endurance than dogs or sheep. And in general you may 
 remark that little men dance better, and are more 
 unwearied under exertion of every kind, than those to 
 whom their own weight must necessarily be burdensome. 
 I respect you, Master Peveril, because I am told you 
 have killed one of those gigantic fellows, who go about 
 swaggering as if their souls were taller than ours, because 
 their noses are nearer to the clouds by a cubit or two. 
 But do not value yourself on this, as anything very un- 
 usual. I would have you to know it hath been always 
 thus; and that, in the history of all ages, the clean, tight, 
 dapper, little fellow hath proved an overmatch for his 
 bulky antagonist. I need only instance, out of Holy 
 Writ, the celebrated downfall of Goliath, and of another 
 lubbard, who had more fingers to his hand and more 
 inches to his stature than ought to belong to an honest 
 man, and who was slain by a nephew of good King David; 
 and of many others whom I do not remember; neverthe- 
 
 228
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 less, they were all Philistines of gigantic stature. In the 
 classics, also, you have Tydeus, and other tight, compact 
 heroes, whose diminutive bodies were the abode of large 
 minds. And indeed you may observe, in sacred as well as 
 profane history, that your giants are ever heretics and 
 blasphemers, robbers and oppressors, outragers of the 
 female sex, and scoffers at regular authority. Such were 
 Gog and Magog, whom our authentic chronicles vouch 
 to have been slain near to Plymouth, by the good Httle 
 knight Corineus, who gave name to Cornwall. Asca- 
 parte also was subdued by Bevis, and Colbrand by Guy, 
 as Southampton and Warwick can testify. Like unto 
 these was the giant Hoel, slain in Bretagne by King 
 Arthur. And if Ryence, king of North Wales, who was 
 done to death by the same worthy champion of Chris- 
 tendom, be not actually termed a giant, it is plain he was 
 Httle better, since he required twenty-four kings' beards, 
 which were then worn full and long, to fur his gown; 
 whereby, computing each beard at eighteen inches — 
 and you cannot allow less for a beard-royal — and 
 supposing only the front of the gown trimmed therewith, 
 as we use ermine, and that the back was mounted and 
 lined, instead of cat-skins and squirrels' fur, with the 
 beards of earls and dukes and other inferior dignitaries, 
 may amount to — But I will work the question to-mor- 
 row.' 
 
 Nothing is more soporific to any, save a philosopher 
 or monied man, than the operation of figures; and when 
 in bed the effect is irresistible. Sir Geoffrey fell asleep 
 in the act of calculating King Ryence's height from the 
 supposed length of his mantle. Indeed, had he not stum- 
 bled on this abstruse subject of calculation, there is no 
 
 229
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 guessing how long he might have held forth upon the 
 superiority of men of little stature, which was so great a 
 favourite with him that, numerous as such narratives 
 are, the dwarf had collected almost all the instances of 
 their victories over giants which history or romance 
 afforded. 
 
 No sooner had unequivocal signs of the dwarf's sound 
 slumbers reached Julian's ears than he began again to 
 listen eagerly for the renewal of that mysterious com- 
 munication which was at once interesting and awful. 
 Even whilst Hudson was speaking, he had, instead of 
 bestowing his attention upon his eulogy on persons of 
 low stature, kept his eajs on watchful guard, to mark, if 
 possible, the Hghtest sounds of any sort which might 
 occur in the apartment; so that he thought it scarce 
 possible that even a fly should have left it without its 
 motion being overheard. If, therefore, his invisible moni- 
 tor was indeed a creature of this world — an opinion 
 which Julian's sound sense rendered him unwilling to 
 renounce — that being could not have left the apart- 
 ment; and he waited impatiently for a renewal of their 
 communication. He was disappointed: not the slightest 
 sound reached his ear ; and the nocturnal visitor, if still 
 in the room, appeared determined on silence. 
 
 It was in vain that Peveril coughed, hemmed, and 
 gave other symptoms of being awake; at length, such 
 became his impatience that he resolved, at any risk, to 
 speak first, in hopes of renewing the communication 
 betwixt them. 'Whoever thou art,' he said, in a voice 
 loud enough to be heard by a waking person, but not so 
 high as to disturb his sleeping companion — ' whoever 
 or whatever thou art, that hast shown some interest in 
 
 230
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the fate of such a castaway as Julian Peveril, speak once 
 more, I conjure thee; and be your communication for 
 good or evil, believe me, I am equally prepared to abide 
 the issue.' 
 
 No answer of any kind was returned to this invoca- 
 tion; nor did the least sound intimate the presence of 
 the being to whom it was so solemnly addressed. 
 
 'I speak in vain,' said Julian; 'and perhaps I am but 
 invoking that which is insensible of human feehng, or 
 which takes a malign pleasure in human suffering.' 
 
 There was a gentle and half-broken sigh from a corner 
 of the apartment, which, answering to this exclamation, 
 seemed to contradict the imputation which it con- 
 veyed. 
 
 JuHan, naturally courageous, and famiHarised by this 
 time to his situation, raised himself in bed and stretched 
 out his arm to repeat his adjuration, when the voice, as 
 if alarmed at his action and energy, whispered, in a tone 
 more hurried than that which it had hitherto used, 'Be 
 still — move not — or I am mute for ever ! ' 
 
 ' It is then a mortal being who is present with me,' was 
 the natural inference of Julian, 'and one who is probably 
 afraid of being detected; I have then some power over 
 my visitor, though I must be cautious how I use it. If 
 your intents are friendly,' he proceeded, ' there was never 
 a time in which I lacked friends more, or would be more 
 grateful for kindness. The fate of all who are dear to me 
 is weighed in the balance, and with worlds would I buy 
 the tidings of their safety.' 
 
 'I have said my power is limited,' replied the voice. 
 ' You I may be able to preserve; the fate of your friends 
 is beyond my control.' 
 
 231
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *Let me at least know it,' said Julian; ' and, be it as it 
 may, I will not shun to share it.' 
 
 * For whom would you inquire ? ' said the soft, sweet 
 voice, not without a tremulousness of accent, as if the 
 question was put with diffident reluctance. 
 
 *My parents,' said Julian, after a moment's hesita- 
 tion ; * how fare they ? What will be their fate? ' 
 
 ' They fare as the fort under which the enemy has dug 
 a deadly mine. The work may have cost the labour of 
 years, such were the impediments to the engineers; but 
 Time brings opportunity upon its wings.' 
 
 'And what will be the event?' said Peveril. 
 
 'Can I read the future,' answered the voice, 'save by 
 comparison with the past? Who has been hunted on 
 these stern and unmitigable accusations, but has been 
 at last brought to bay? Did high and noble birth, hon- 
 oured age, and approved benevolence save the unfortu- 
 nate Lord Stafford? Did learning, capacity of intrigue, 
 or high court favour redeem Coleman, although the con- 
 fidential servant of the heir presumptive of the crown of 
 England? Did subtilty and genius, and the exertions of 
 a numerous sect, save Fenwicke, or Whitbread, or any 
 other of the accused priests? Were Groves, Pickering, 
 or the other humble wretches who have suffered, safe in 
 their obscurity? There is no condition in Uf e, no degree of 
 talent, no form of principle, which affords protection 
 against an accusation which levels conditions, confounds 
 characters, renders men's virtues their sins, and rates 
 them as dangerous in proportion as they have influence, 
 though attained in the noblest manner, and used for the 
 best purposes. Call such a one but an accessary to the 
 Plot, let him be mouthed in the evidence of Gates or 
 
 232 
 
 I
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Dugdale, and the blindest shall foresee the issue of their 
 trial' 
 
 'Prophet of evil!' said Julian, 'my father has a shield 
 invulnerable to protect him. He is innocent.' 
 
 'Let him plead his innocence at the bar of Heaven/ 
 said the voice; 'it will serve him little where Scroggs 
 presides.' 
 
 ' Still I fear not,' said Julian, counterfeiting more con- 
 fidence than he really possessed; 'my father's cause will 
 be pleaded before twelve Englishmen.' 
 
 'Better before twelve wild beasts,' answered the In- 
 visible, ' than before Englishmen influenced with party, 
 prejudice, passion, and the epidemic terror of an imagi- 
 nary danger. They are bold in guilt in proportion to the 
 number amongst whom the crime is divided.' 
 
 'Ill-omened speaker,' said Julian, 'thine is indeed a 
 voice fitted only to sound with the midnight bell and the 
 screech-owl. Yet speak again. Tell me, if thou canst/ 
 he would have said, ' of Alice Bridgenorth,' but the word 
 would not leave his tongue — 'tell me,' he said, 'if the 
 noble house of Derby — ' 
 
 'Let them keep their rock like the sea-fowl in the tem- 
 pest, and it may so fall out,' answered the voice, 'that 
 their rock may be a safe refuge. But there is blood on 
 their ermine; and revenge has dogged them for many a 
 year, like a bloodhound that hath been distanced in the 
 morning chase, but may yet grapple the quarry ere the 
 sun shall set. At present, however, they are safe. Am I 
 now to speak further on your own affairs, which involve 
 little short of your life and honour, or are there yet any 
 whose interests you prefer to your own? ' 
 
 'There is,' said Julian, 'one, from whom I was vio- 
 
 233
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 lently parted yesterday; if I knew but of her safety, I 
 were little anxious for my own.' 
 
 ' One ! ' returned the voice, * only one from whom you 
 were parted yesterday?' 
 
 *But in parting from whom,' said Julian, *I felt sepa- 
 rated from all happiness which the world can give me.' 
 
 'You mean Alice Bridgenorth,' said the Invisible, 
 with some bitterness of accent ; ' but her you will never 
 see more. Your own life and hers depend on your for- 
 getting each other.' 
 
 'I cannot .purchase my own life at that price,' replied 
 Julian. 
 
 'Then die in your obstinacy,' returned the Invisible; 
 nor to all the entreaties which he used was he able to 
 obtain another word in the course of that remarkable 
 night.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 A short-hough'd man, but full of pride. 
 
 Allan Ramsay. 
 
 The blood of Julian Peveril was so much fevered by the 
 state in which his invisible visitor left him, that he was 
 unable, for a length of time, to find repose. He swore to 
 himself that he would discover and expose the nocturnal 
 demon which stole on his hours of rest only to add gall 
 to bitterness, and to pour poison into those wounds 
 which already smarted so severely. There was nothing 
 which his power extended to that, in his rage, he did not 
 threaten. He proposed a closer and a more rigorous sur- 
 vey of his cell, so that he might discover the mode by 
 which his tormentor entered, were it as unnoticeable as 
 an auger-hole. If his diligence should prove unavailing, 
 he determined to inform the jailors, to whom it could not 
 be indifferent to know that their prison was open to such 
 intrusions. He proposed to himself to discover from 
 their looks whether they were already privy to these 
 visits; and if so, to denounce them to the magistrates, 
 to the judges, to the House of Commons, was the least 
 that his resentment proposed. Sleep surprised his worn- 
 out frame in the midst of his projects of discovery and 
 vengeance, and, as frequently happens, the light of the 
 ensuing day proved favourable to calmer resolutions. 
 
 He now reflected that he had no ground to consider the 
 motives of his visitor as positively malevolent, although 
 he had afforded him little encouragement to hope for 
 
 235
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 assistance on the points he had most at heart. Towards 
 himself there had been expressed a decided feeling both 
 of sympathy and interest; if through means of these 
 he could acquire his Hberty, he might, when possessed 
 of freedom, turn it to the benefit of those for whom he 
 was more interested than for his own welfare. 'I have 
 behaved like a fool,' he said; *I ought to have tempor- 
 ised with this singular being, learned the motives of its 
 interference, and availed myself of its succour, provided 
 I could do so without any dishonourable conditions. It 
 would have been always time enough to reject such 
 when they should have been proposed to me.' 
 
 So saving, he was forming projects for regulating 
 his intercourse with the stranger more prudently, in 
 case their communication should be renewed, when his 
 meditations were interrupted by the peremptory sum- 
 mons of Sir Geoffrey Hudson, that he would, in his 
 turn, be pleased to perform those domestic duties of 
 their common habitation which the dwarf had yester- 
 day taken upon himself. 
 
 There was no resisting a request so reasonable, and 
 Peveril accordingly rose and betook himself to the ar- 
 rangement of their prison; while Sir Hudson, perched 
 upon a stool from which his legs did not by half way 
 reach the groimd, sat in a posture of elegant languor, 
 twangling upon an old broken- winded guitar, and sing- 
 ing songs in Spanish, Moorish, and Lingua Franca, most 
 detestably out of tune. He failed not, at the conclusion 
 of each ditty, to favour JuUan with some account of 
 what he had sung, either in the way of translation or 
 historical anecdote, or as the lay was connected with 
 some pecuhar part of his own eventful history, in the 
 
 236
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 course of which the poor little man had chanced to have 
 been taken by a Sallee rover and carried captive into 
 Morocco. 
 
 This part of his life Hudson used to make the era of 
 many strange adventures; and, if he could himself be 
 believed, he had made wild work among the affections 
 of the emperor's seraglio. But, although few were in 
 a situation to cross-examine him on gallantries and in- 
 trigues of which the scene was so remote, the officers 
 of the garrison of Tangier had a report current amongst 
 them, that the only use to which the tyrannical Moors 
 could convert a slave of such slender corporeal strength 
 was to employ him to He a-bed all day and hatch tur- 
 key's eggs. The least allusion to this rumour used to 
 drive him wellnigh frantic, and the fatal termination of 
 the duel with young Crofts, which began in wanton 
 mirth and ended in bloodshed, made men more coy than 
 they had formerly been of making the fiery Uttle hero 
 the subject of their raillery. 
 
 While Peveril did the drudgery of the apartment, the 
 dwarf remained much at his ease, carolling in the manner 
 we have described; but when he beheld Julian attempt- 
 ing the task of the cook. Sir Geoffrey Hudson sprung 
 from the stool on which he sat en signor, at the risk of 
 breaking both his guitar and his neck, exclaiming, 'That 
 he would rather prepare breakfast every morning be- 
 twixt this and the day of judgment than commit a task 
 of such consequence to an inexperienced bungler like 
 his companion.' 
 
 The young man gladly resigned his task to the splen- 
 etic little knight, and only smiled at his resentment when 
 he added that, to be but a mortal of middle stature, 
 
 237
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Julian was as stupid as a giant. Leaving the dwarf tc 
 prepare the meal after his own pleasure, Peveril em- 
 ployed himself in measuring the room with his eyes on 
 every side, and in endeavouring to discover some pri- 
 vate entrance, such as might admit his midnight visitant, 
 and perhaps could be employed in case of need for effect- 
 ing his own escape. The floor next engaged a scrutiny 
 equally minute, but more successful. 
 
 Close by his own pallet, and dropped in such a man- 
 ner that he must have seen it sooner but for the hurry 
 with which he obeyed the summons of the impatient 
 dwarf, lay a slip of paper, sealed, and directed with the 
 initial letters, *J. P.,' which seemed to ascertain that 
 it was addressed to himself. He took the opportunity 
 of opening it while the soup was in the very moment 
 of projection, and the full attention of his companion 
 was occupied by what he, in common with wiser and 
 taller men, considered as one of the principal occupa- 
 tions of life; so that, without incurring his observation 
 or awaking his curiosity, Julian had the opportunity to 
 read as follows : — 
 
 'Rash and infatuated as you are, there is one who 
 would forfeit much to stand betwixt you and your fate. 
 You are to-morrow to be removed to the Tower, where 
 your life cannot be assured for a single day; for, during 
 the few hours you have been in London, you have pro- 
 voked a resentment which is not easily slaked. There 
 is but one chance for you: renounce A. B., think no 
 more of her. If that be impossible, think of her but as 
 one whom you can never see again. If your heart can 
 resolve to give up an attachment which it should never 
 
 238
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 have entertained, and which it would be madness to 
 cherish longer, make your acquiescence in this condi- 
 tion known by putting on your hat a white band, or white 
 feather, or knot of ribbon of the same colour, whichever 
 you may most easily come by. A boat will, in that case, 
 run, as if by accident, on board of that which is to con- 
 vey you to the Tower. Do you in the confusion jump 
 overboard, and swim to the Southwark side of the 
 Thames. Friends will attend there to secure your es- 
 cape, and you will find yourself with one who will rather 
 lose character and life than that a hair of your head 
 should fall to the ground, but who, if you reject the 
 warning, can only think of you as of the fool who perishes 
 in his folly. May Heaven guide you to a sound judgment 
 of your condition! So prays one who would be your 
 friend, if you pleased, Unknown.' 
 
 The Tower ! it was a word of terror, even more so than 
 a civil prison; for how many passages to death did that 
 dark structure present ! The severe executions which it 
 had witnessed in preceding reigns were not perhaps 
 more numerous than the secret murders which had 
 taken place within its walls; yet Peveril did not a mo- 
 ment hesitate on the part which he had to perform. 'I 
 will share my father's fate,' he said; *I thought but of 
 him when they brought me hither; I will think of no- 
 thing else when they convey me to yonder still more 
 dreadful place of confinement; it is his, and it is but meet 
 that it should be his son's. And thou, Alice Bridge- 
 north, the day that I renounce thee, may I be held alike 
 a traitor and a dastard! Go, false adviser, and share the 
 fate of seducers and heretical teachers!' 
 
 239
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 He could not help uttering this last expression aloud, 
 as he threw the billet into the fire, with a vehemence 
 which made the dwarf start with surprise. 'What say 
 you of burning heretics, young man?' he exclaimed; 'by 
 my faith, your zeal must be warmer than mine, if you 
 talk on such a subject when the heretics are the pre- 
 vailing number. May I measure six feet without my 
 shoes, but the heretics would have the best of it if we 
 came to that work. Beware of such words.' 
 
 'Too late to beware of words spoken and heard,' said 
 the turnkey, who, opening the door with unusual pre- 
 cautions to avoid noise, had stolen imperceived into the 
 room; 'however, Master Peveril has behaved like a 
 gentleman, and I am no tale-bearer, on condition he will 
 consider I have had trouble in his matters.' 
 
 Julian had no alternative but to take the fellow's 
 hint and administer a bribe, with which Master Clink 
 was so well satisfied that he exclaimed, ' It went to his 
 heart to take leave of such a kind-natured gentleman, 
 and that he could have turned the key on him for twenty 
 years with pleasure. But the best of friends must part.' 
 
 'I am to be removed, then?' said Julian. 
 
 'Ay, truly, master, the warrant is come from the 
 council.' 
 
 ' To convey me to the Tower? ' 
 
 'Whew!' exclaimed the officer of the law, 'who the 
 devil told you that? But since you do know it, there is 
 no harm to say "Ay." So make yourself ready to move 
 immediately ; and first, hold out your dew-beaters till I 
 take off the darbies.' 
 
 'Is that usual?' said Peveril, stretching out his feet 
 as the fellow directed, while his fetters were unlocked. 
 
 240
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Why, ay, master, these fetters belong to the keeper; 
 they are not a-going to send them to the lieutenant, I 
 trow. No — no, the warders must bring their own gear 
 with them; they get none here, I promise them. Never- 
 theless, if your honour hath a fancy to go in fetters, as 
 thinking it may move compassion of your case — ' 
 
 * I have no intention to make my case seem worse than 
 it is,' said Julian, whilst at the same time it crossed his 
 mind that his anonymous correspondent must be well 
 acquainted both with his own personal habits, since the 
 letter proposed a plan of escape which could only be 
 executed by a bold swimmer, and with the fashions of 
 the prison, since it was foreseen that he would not be 
 ironed on his passage to the Tower. The turnkey's next 
 speech made him carry conjecture still further. 
 
 * There is nothing in life I would not do for so brave 
 a guest,' said Clink; 'I could nab one of my wife's rib- 
 bons for you, if your honour had the fancy to mount the 
 white flag in your beaver.' 
 
 'To what good purpose?' said Julian, shortly, con- 
 necting, as was natural, the man's proposed civility with 
 the advice given and the signal prescribed in the letter. 
 
 'Nay, to no good purpose I know of,' said the turn- 
 key; 'only it is the fashion to seem white and harmless 
 — a sort of token of not-guiltiness, as I may say, which 
 folks desire to show the world whether they be truly 
 guilty or not; but I cannot say that guiltiness or not- 
 guiltiness argufies much, saving they be words in the 
 vardict.' 
 
 'Strange,' thought Peveril, although the man seemed 
 to speak quite naturally, and without any double mean- 
 ing — ' strange that all should apparently combine to 
 
 28 241
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 realise the plan of escape, could I but give my consent to 
 it ! And had I not better consent? Whoever does so much 
 for me must wish me well, and a well-wisher would never 
 enforce the unjust conditions on which I am required 
 to consent to my liberation.' 
 
 But this misgi\dng of his resolution was but for a mo- 
 ment. He speedily recollected that whoever aided him 
 in escaping must be necessarily exposed to great risk, 
 and had a right to name the stipulation on which he was 
 willing to incur it. He also recollected that falsehood 
 is equally base, whether expressed in words or in dumb 
 show; and that he should He as flatly by using the signal 
 agreed upon in evidence of his renouncing Alice Bridge- 
 north as he would in direct terms if he made such renun- 
 ciation vvithout the purpose of abiding by it. 
 
 'If you would oblige me.' he said to the turnkey, 'let 
 me have a piece of black silk or crape for the purpose 
 you mention.' 
 
 'Of crape,' said the fellow; 'what should that signify? 
 WTiy the bien morts, who bing out to tour at you,^ will 
 think you a chimney-sweeper on Alay-day.' 
 
 'It will show my settled sorrow.' said Julian, 'as well 
 as my determined resolution.' 
 
 'As you -^111. sir,' answered the fellow. 'I'll pro\ide 
 you with a black rag of some kind or other. So, now, let 
 us be mo\'ing.' 
 
 Julian intimated his readiness to attend him, and pro- 
 ceeded to bid farewell to his late companion, the stout 
 Geoffrey Hudson. The parting was not without emotion 
 on both sides, more particularly on that of the poor Httle 
 man. who had taken a particular liking to the companion 
 
 ^ The smart girls, who turn out to look at you. 
 242
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 of whom he was now about to be deprived. 'Fare ye 
 well,' he said, 'my young friend,' taking Julian's hand 
 in both his own uplifted palms, in which action he some- 
 what resembled the attitude of a sailor pulling a rope 
 overhead. ' Many in my situation would think himself 
 wronged, as a soldier and servant of the King's chamber, 
 in seeing you removed to a more honourable prison than 
 that which I am limited unto. But, I thank God, I grudge 
 you not the Tower, nor the rocks of Scilly, nor even 
 Carisbrooke Castle, though the latter was graced with 
 the captivity of my blessed and martyred master. Go 
 where you will, I wish you all the distinction of an hon- 
 ourable prison-house, and a safe and speedy deliverance 
 in God's own time. For myself , my race is near a close, 
 and that because I fall a martyr to the over-tenderness 
 of my own heart. There is a circumstance, good Master 
 Julian Peveril, which should have been yours, had Provi- 
 dence permitted our further intimacy, but it fits not the 
 present hour. Go then, my friend, and bear witness in 
 life and death that Geoffrey Hudson scorns the insults 
 and persecutions of fortune, as he would despise, and has 
 often despised, the mischievous pranks of an overgrown 
 schoolboy.' 
 
 So saying, he turned away and hid his face with his 
 little handkerchief, while Julian felt towards him that 
 tragi-comic sensation which makes us pity the object, 
 which excites it not the less that we are somewhat in- 
 clined to laugh amid our sympathy. The jailor made 
 him a signal, which Peveril obeyed, leaving the dwarf 
 to disconsolate solitude. 
 
 As JuHan followed the keeper through the various 
 windings of this penal labyrinth, the man observed that 
 
 243
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *He was a rum fellow, that little Sir Geoffrey, and, for 
 gallantry, a perfect cock of Bantam, for as old as he was. 
 There was a certain gay wench,' he said, 'that had 
 hooked him; but what she could make of him, save she 
 carried him to Smithfield and took money for him, as for 
 a motion of puppets, it was,' he said, 'hard to gather.' 
 
 Encouraged by this opening, Julian asked if his attend- 
 ant knew why his prison was changed. *To teach you 
 to become a king's post without commission,' answered 
 the fellow. 
 
 He stopped in his tattle as they approached that for- 
 midable central point, in which lay couched on his leath- 
 ern elbow-chair the fat commander of the fortress, 
 stationed apparently for ever in the midst of his citadel, 
 as the huge boa is sometimes said to lie stretched as a 
 guard upon the subterranean treasures of Eastern rajahs. 
 This overgrown man of authority eyed Julian wistfully 
 and sullenly, as the miser the guinea which he must part 
 with, or the hungry mastiff the food which is carried to 
 another kennel. He growled to himself as he turned the 
 leaves of his ominous register, in order to make the 
 necessary entry respecting the removal of his prisoner. 
 'To the Tower — to the Tower; ay, ay, all must to the 
 Tower — that's the fashion of it; free Britons to a mil- 
 itary prison, as if we had neither bolts nor chains here! 
 I hope Parliament will have it up, this Towering work, 
 that's all. Well, the youngster will take no good by the 
 change, and that is one comfort.' 
 
 Having finished at once his official act of registration 
 and his soHloquy, he made a signal to his assistants to 
 remove JuKan, who was led along the same stern pass- 
 ages which he had traversed upon his entrance, to the 
 
 244
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 gate of the prison, whence a coach, escorted by two 
 officers of justice, conveyed him to the water-side. 
 
 A boat here waited him, with four warders of the 
 Tower, to whose custody he was formally resigned by 
 his late attendants. CHnk, however, the turnkey, with 
 whom he was more especially acquainted, did not take 
 leave of him without furnishing him with the piece of 
 black crape which he requested. Peveril fixed it on his 
 hat amid the whispers of his new guardians. ' The gentle- 
 man is in a hurry to go into mourning,' said one; 'may- 
 hap he had better wait till he has cause.' 
 
 'Perhaps others may wear mourning for him ere he 
 can mourn for any one,' answered another of these func- 
 tionaries. Yet, notwithstanding the tenor of these whis- 
 pers, their behaviour to their prisoner was more respect- 
 ful than he had experienced from his former keepers, 
 and might be termed a sullen civility. The ordinary 
 officers of the law were in general rude, as having to do 
 with felons of every description ; whereas these men were 
 only employed with persons accused of state crimes — 
 men who were from birth and circumstances usually 
 entitled to expect, and able to reward, decent usage. 
 
 The change of keepers passed unnoticed by Julian, as 
 did the gay and busy scene presented by the broad and 
 beautiful river on which he was now launched. A hun- 
 dred boats shot past them, bearing parties intent on 
 business or on pleasure. Julian only viewed them with 
 the stern hope that whoever had endeavoured to bribe 
 him from his fidelity by the hope of freedom might see, 
 from the colour of the badge which he had assumed, 
 how determined he was to resist the temptation pre- 
 sented to him. 
 
 24S
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 It was about high water, and a stout wherry came up 
 the river, with sail and oar, so directly upon that in 
 which Julian was embarked that it seemed as if likely 
 to run her aboard. * Get your carabines ready,' cried the 
 principal warder to his assistants. 'What the devil can 
 these scoundrels mean? ' 
 
 But the crew in the other boat seemed to have 
 perceived their error, for they suddenly altered their 
 course and struck off into the middle stream, while 
 a torrent of mutual abuse was exchanged betwixt them 
 and the boat whose course they had threatened to 
 impede. 
 
 ' The Unknown has kept his faith,' said Julian to him- 
 self ; 'I too have kept mine.' 
 
 It even seemed to him, as the boats neared each other, 
 that he heard from the other wherry something like a 
 stifled scream or groan ; and when the momentary bus- 
 tle was over he asked the warder who sat next him 
 what boat that was. 
 
 *Men-of-war's-men on a frolic, I suppose,' answered 
 the warder. *I know no one else would be so impudent 
 as run foul of the King's boat; for I am sure the fellow 
 put the helm up on purpose. But mayhap you, sir, 
 know more of the matter than I do.' 
 
 This insinuation effectually prevented Julian from 
 putting further questions, and he remained silent until 
 the boat came under the dusty bastions of the Tower. 
 The tide carried them up under a dark and lowering arch, 
 closed at the upper end by the well-known Traitor's 
 Gate,^ formed like a wicket of huge intersecting bars of 
 wood, through which might be seen a dim and imperfect 
 * See Note 8 in Fortunes of Nigel, vol. ii, p. 3SO. 
 246
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 view of soldiers and warders upon duty, and of the steep 
 ascending causeway which leads up from the river into 
 the interior of the fortress. By this gate — and it is the 
 well-known circumstance which assigned its name — 
 those accused of state crimes were usually committed 
 to the Tower. The Thames afforded a secret and silent 
 mode of conveyance for transporting thither such whose 
 fallen fortunes might move the commiseration, or whose 
 popular qualities might excite the sympathy, of the pub- 
 lic ; and even where no cause for especial secrecy existed, 
 the peace of the city was undisturbed by the tumult 
 attending the passage of the prisoner and his guards 
 through the most frequented streets. 
 
 Yet this custom, however recommended by state 
 policy, must have often struck chill upon the heart of 
 the criminal, who thus, stolen, as it were, out of society, 
 reached the place of his confinement without encounter- 
 ing even one glance of compassion on the road; and as, 
 from under the dusky arch, he landed on those flinty 
 steps, worn by many a footstep anxious as his own, 
 againstwhich the tide lapped fitfully with small success- 
 ive waves, and thence looked forward to the steep as- 
 cent into a Gothic state-prison, and backward to such 
 part of the river as the low-browed vault suffered to be- 
 come visible, he must often have felt that he was leaving 
 daylight, hope, and Hfe itself behind him. 
 
 While the warder's challenge was made and answered, 
 Peveril endeavoured to obtain information from his con- 
 ductors where he was likely to be confined ; but the an- 
 swer was brief and general — ' Where the lieutenant 
 should direct.' 
 
 ' Could he not be permitted to share the imprisonment 
 247
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of his father, Sir Geoffrey Peveril?' He forgot not, on 
 this occasion, to add the surname of his house. 
 
 The warder, an old man of respectable appearance, 
 stared, as if at the extravagance of the demand, and 
 said bluntly, * It is impossible.' 
 
 'At least,' said Peveril, 'show me where my father is 
 confined, that I may look upon the walls which separate 
 us.' 
 
 'Young gentleman,' said the senior warder, shaking 
 his grey head, 'I am sorry for you; but asking questions 
 will do you no service. In this place we know nothing of 
 fathers and sons.' 
 
 Yet chance seemed, in a few moments afterwards, to 
 offer Peveril that satisfaction which the rigour of his 
 keepers was disposed to deny to him. As he was con- 
 veyed up the steep passage which leads under what is 
 called the Wakefield Tower, a female voice, in a tone 
 wherein grief and joy were indescribably mixed, ex- 
 claimed, 'My son! — my dear son!' 
 
 Even those who guarded Julian seemed softened by a 
 tone of such acute feeling. They slackened their pace. 
 They almost paused to permit him to look up towards 
 the casement from which the sounds of maternal agony 
 proceeded; but the aperture was so narrow, and so closely 
 grated, that nothing was visible save a white female 
 hand, which grasped one of those rusty barricadoes, as if 
 for supporting the person within, while another streamed 
 a white handkerchief, and then let it fall. The casement 
 was instantly deserted. 
 
 'Give it me,' said Julian to the officer who lifted the 
 handkerchief; 'it is perhaps a mother's last gift.' 
 
 The old warder lifted the napkin, and looked at it 
 
 248
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 with the jealous minuteness of one who is accustomed to 
 detect secret correspondence in the most trifling acts of 
 intercourse. 
 
 'There may be writing on it with invisible ink/ said 
 one of his comrades. 
 
 ' It is wetted, but I think it is only with tears,' answered 
 the senior. * I cannot keep it from the poor young gentle- 
 man.' 
 
 *Ah, Master Coleby,' said his comrade, in a gentle 
 tone of reproach, 'you would have been wearing a better 
 coat than a yeoman's to-day had it not been for your 
 tender heart.' 
 
 *It signifies little,' said old Coleby, 'while my heart is 
 true to my king, what I feel in discharging my duty, or 
 what coat keeps my old bosom from the cold weather.' 
 
 Peveril, meanwhile, folded in his breast the token of 
 his mother's affection which chance had favoured him 
 with ; and when placed in the small and solitary chamber 
 which he was told to consider as his own during his resid- 
 ence in the Tower, he was soothed even to weeping by 
 this trifling circumstance, which he could not help con- 
 sidering as an omen that his unfortunate house was not 
 entirely deserted by Providence. 
 
 But the thoughts and occurrences of a prison are too 
 uniform for a narrative, and we must now convey our 
 readers into a more bustling scene.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 Henceforth 't is done — Fortune and I are friends; 
 And I must live, for Buckingham commends. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 The spacious mansion of the Duke of Buckingham, with 
 the demesne belonging to it, originally bore the name of 
 York House, and occupied a large portion of the ground 
 adjacent to the Savoy. 
 
 This had been laid out by the munificence of his father, 
 the favourite of Charles the First, in a most splendid 
 manner, so as almost to rival Whitehall itself. But dur- 
 ing the increasing rage for building new streets, and the 
 creating of almost an additional town, in order to con- 
 nect London and Westminster, this ground had become 
 of very great value; and the second Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, who was at once fond of scheming and needy of 
 money, had agreed to a plan laid before him by some 
 adventurous architect, for converting the extensive 
 grounds around his palace into those streets, lanes, and 
 courts which still perpetuate his name and titles ; though 
 those who live in Buckingham Street, Duke Street, Vil- 
 liers Street, or in Of Alley (for even that connecting 
 particle is locally commemorated), probably think sel- 
 dom of the memory of the witty, eccentric, and licen- 
 tious George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, whose titles 
 are preserved in the names of their residence and its 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 This building plan the duke had entered upon with 
 250
 
 PEVEREL OF THE PEAK 
 
 all the eagerness which he usually attached to novelty. 
 His gardens were destroyed, his pavilions levelled, his 
 splendid stables demolished, the whole pomp of his sub- 
 urban demesne laid waste, cumbered with ruins, and 
 intersected with the foundations of new buildings and 
 cellars, and the process of levelling different lines for the 
 intended streets. But the undertaking, although it proved 
 afterwards both lucrative and successful, met with a 
 check at the outset, partly from want of the necessary 
 funds, partly from the impatient and mercurial temper 
 of the duke, which soon carried him off in pursuit of 
 some more new object; so that, though much was demol- 
 ished, very little, in comparison, was reared up in the 
 stead, and nothing was completed. The principal part 
 of the ducal mansion still remained uninjured; but the 
 demesne in which it stood bore a strange analogy to the 
 irregular mind of its noble owner. Here stood a beautiful 
 group of exotic trees and shrubs, the remnant of the gar- 
 den, amid yawning common sewers and heaps of rubbish. 
 In one place an old tower threatened to fall upon the 
 spectator, and in another he ran the risk of being swal- 
 lowed up by a modern vault. Grandeur of conception 
 could be discovered in the undertaking, but was almost 
 everywhere marred by poverty or negligence of execu- 
 tion. In short, the whole place was the true emblem of 
 an understanding and talents run to waste, and become 
 more dangerous than advantageous to society, by the 
 want of steady principle and the improvidence of the 
 possessor. 
 
 There were men who took a different view of the duke's 
 purpose in permitting his mansion to be thus surrounded, 
 and his demesne occupied by modern buildings which 
 
 251
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 were incomplete, and ancient which were but half de- 
 molished. They alleged that, engaged as he was in so 
 many mysteries of love and of politics, and having the 
 character of the most daring and dangerous intriguer 
 of his time, his Grace found it convenient to surround 
 himself with this ruinous arena, into which officers of 
 justice could not penetrate without some difficulty and 
 hazard; and which might afford, upon occasion, a safe 
 and secret shelter for such tools as were fit for desperate 
 enterprises, and a private and unobserved mode of access 
 to those whom he might have any special reason for 
 receiving in secret. 
 
 Leaving Peveril in the Tower, we must once more 
 convey our readers to the levee of the duke, who, on the 
 morning of Julian's transference to that fortress, thus 
 addressed his minister-in-chief and principal attendant: 
 — * I have been so pleased with your conduct in this 
 matter, Jerningham, that if Old Nick were to arise in our 
 presence, and offer me his best imp as a familiar in thy 
 room, I would hold it but a poor compliment.' 
 
 'A legion of imps,' said Jerningham, bowing, 'could 
 not have been more busy than I in your Grace's service; 
 but if your Grace will permit me to say so, your whole 
 plan was wellnigh marred by your not returning home 
 till last night, or rather this morning.' 
 
 'And why, I pray you, sage Master Jerningham,' said 
 his Grace, 'should I have returned home an instant 
 sooner than my pleasure and convenience served?' 
 
 'Nay, my lord duke,' replied the attendant, 'I know 
 not; only, when you sent us word by Empson, in 
 Chiffinch's apartment, to command us to make sure 
 of the girl at any rate, and at all risks, you said you 
 
 252
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 would be here as soon as you could get freed of the 
 King.' 
 
 'Freed of the King, you rascal! What sort of phrase is 
 that? ' demanded the duke. 
 
 'It was Empson who used it, my lord, as coming from 
 your Grace.' 
 
 * There is much, very fit for my Grace to say, that mis- 
 becomes such mouths as Empson's or yours to repeat,' 
 answered the duke, haughtily, but instantly resumed 
 his tone of familiarity, for his humour was as capricious 
 as his pursuits. 'But I know what thou wouldst have; 
 first, your wisdom would know what became of me since 
 thou hadst my commands at Chiffinch's ; and next, your 
 valour would fain sound another flourish of trumpets 
 on thine own most artificial retreat, leaving thy comrade 
 in the hands of the Philistines.' 
 
 'May it please your Grace,' said Jerningham, 'I did 
 but retreat for the preservation of the baggage.' 
 
 'What! do you play at crambo with me?' said the 
 duke. ' I would have you know that the common parish 
 fool should be whipt were he to attempt to pass pun or 
 quodlibet as a genuine jest, even amongst ticket-porters 
 and hackney-chairmen.' 
 
 'And yet I have heard your Grace indulge in the jeu 
 de mots,' answered the attendant. 
 
 'Sirrah Jerningham,' answered the patron, 'discard 
 thy memory, or keep it under correction, else it will ham- 
 per thy rise in the world. Thou mayst perchance have 
 seen me also have a fancy to play at trap-ball, or to kiss 
 a serving-wench, or to guzzle ale and eat toasted cheese 
 in a porterly whimsy; but is it fitting thou shouldst 
 remember such follies? No more on 't. Hark you; how 
 
 253
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 came the long lubberly fool, Jenkins, being a master of 
 the noble science of defence, to suffer himself to be run 
 through the body so simply by a rustic swain Uke this 
 same Peveril? ' 
 
 'Please your Grace, this same Corydon is no such nov- 
 ice. I saw the onset; and, except in one hand, I never 
 saw a sword managed with such hfe, grace, and facility.' 
 
 'Ay, indeed?' said the duke, taking his own sheathed 
 rapier in his hand, ' I could not have thought that. I am 
 somewhat rusted, and have need of breathing. Peveril is 
 a name of note. As well go to Barns Elms or behind 
 Montagu House with him as with another. His father a 
 rumoured plotter, too. The public would have noted it 
 in me as becoming a zealous Protestant. Needful I do 
 something to maintain my good name in the city, to 
 atone for non-attendance on prayer and preaching. 
 But your Laertes is fast in the Fleet; and I suppose 
 his blundering blockhead of an antagonist is dead or 
 dying.' 
 
 'Recovering, my lord, on the contrary,' replied Jer- 
 ningham; 'the blade fortunately avoided his vitals.' 
 
 'D — n his vitals!' answered the duke. 'TeU him to 
 postpone his recovery, or I will put him to death in 
 earnest.' 
 
 'I will caution his surgeon,' said Jerningham, 'which 
 will answer equally well.' 
 
 ' Do so ; and tell him he had better be on his own death- 
 bed as cure his patient till I send him notice. That young 
 fellow must be let loose again at no rate.' 
 
 'There is little danger,' said the attendant. *I hear 
 some of the witnesses have got their net flung over him 
 on account of some matters down in the north; and that 
 
 254
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 he is to be translated to the Tower for that, and for some 
 letters of the Countess of Derby, as rumour goes.' 
 
 'To the Tower let him go, and get out as he can,' re- 
 plied the duke; 'and when you hear he is fast there, let 
 the fencing fellow recover as fast as the surgeon and he 
 can mutually settle it.' 
 
 The duke, having said this, took two or three turns in 
 the apartment, and appeared to be in deep thought. His 
 attendant waited the issue of his meditations with 
 patience, being well aware that such moods, during which 
 his mind was strongly directed in one point, were never 
 of so long duration with his patron as to prove a severe 
 burden to his own patience. 
 
 Accordingly, after the silence of seven or eight min- 
 utes, the duke broke through it, taking from the toilette 
 a large silk purse, which seemed full of gold. * Jerning- 
 ham,' he said, 'thou art a faithful fellow, and it would 
 be sin not to cherish thee. I beat the King at mall on 
 his bold defiance. The honour is enough for me; and 
 thou, my boy, shalt have the winnings.' 
 
 Jerningham pocketed the purse with due acknowledg- 
 ments. 
 
 ' Jerningham,' his Grace continued, ' I know you blame 
 me for changing my plans too often; and on my soul I 
 have heard you so learned on the subject that I have 
 become of your opinion, and have been vexed at myself 
 for two or three hours together, for not sticking as 
 constantly to one object as doubtless I shall when age 
 (touching his forehead) shall mak^ this same weathercock 
 too rusty to turn with the changing breeze. But as yet, 
 while I have spirit and action, let it whirl Uke the vane 
 at the mast-head, which teaches the pilot how to steer 
 
 255
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 his course; and when I shift mine, think I am bound to 
 follow fortune, and not to control her.' 
 
 *I can understand nothing from all this, please your 
 Grace,' replied Jerningham, 'save that you have been 
 pleased to change some purposed measures, and think 
 that you have profited by doing so.' 
 
 'You shall judge yourself,' replied the duke. *I have 
 seen the Duchess of Portsmouth. You start. It is true, 
 by Heaven! I have seen her, and from sworn enemies 
 we have become sworn friends. The treaty between 
 such high and mighty powers had some weighty articles; 
 besides, I had a French negotiator to deal with ; so that 
 you will allow a few hours' absence was but a necessary 
 interval to make up our matters of diplomacy.' 
 
 ' Your Grace astonishes me,' said Jerningham. ' Christ- 
 ian's plan of supplanting the great lady is then entirely 
 abandoned? I thought you had but desired to have the 
 fair successor here, in order to carry it on under your 
 own management.' 
 
 *I forget what I meant at the time,' said the duke; 
 * unless that I was resolved she should not jilt me as she 
 did the good-natured man of royalty; and so I am still 
 determined, since you put me in mind of the fair Dowsa- 
 belle. But I had a contrite note from the duchess while 
 we were at the Mall. I went to see her, and found her 
 a perfect Niobe, On my soul, in spite of red eyes, and 
 swelled features, and dishevelled hair, there are, after 
 all, Jerningham, some women who do, as the poets say, 
 look lovely in afiliction. Out came the cause; and with 
 such humility, such penitence, such throwing herself on 
 my mercy — she the proudest devil, too, in the whole 
 court — that I must have had heart of steel to resist it 
 
 256
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 all. In short, Chifi&nch in a drunken fit had played the 
 babbler, and let young Saville into our intrigue. Saville 
 plays the rogue, and informs the duchess by a messen- 
 ger, who luckily came a little late into the market. She 
 learned, too, being a very devil for intelligence, that 
 there had been some jarring between the master and 
 me about this new Phillis; and that I was most Hkely to 
 catch the bird — as any one may see who looks on us 
 both. It must have been Empson who fluted all this 
 into her Grace's ear; and thinking she saw how her lady- 
 ship and I could hunt in couples, she entreats me to 
 break Christian's scheme, and keep the wench out of the 
 King's sight, especially if she were such a rare piece of 
 perfection as fame has reported her.' 
 
 *And your Grace has promised her your hand to 
 uphold the influence which you have so often threatened 
 to ruin? ' said Jerningham. 
 
 'Ay, Jerningham; my turn was as much served when 
 she seemed to own herself in my power and cry me mercy. 
 And observe, it is all one to me by which ladder I climb 
 into the King's cabinet. That of Portsmouth is ready 
 fixed — better ascend by it than fling it down to put up 
 another; I hate all unnecessary trouble.' 
 
 'And Christian?' said Jerningham. 
 
 'May go to the devil for a self-conceited ass. One 
 pleasure of this twist of intrigue is, to revenge me of 
 that villain, who thought himself so essential that, by 
 Heaven! he forced himself on my privacy and lectured 
 me like a schoolboy. Hang the cold-blooded hypocrit- 
 ical vermin. If he mutters, I will have his nose slit as 
 wide as Coventry's.^ Hark ye, is the colonel come? ' 
 
 1 See Note ii. 
 «8 257
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *I expect him every moment, your Grace.' 
 
 'Send him up when he arrives,' said the duke. 'Why 
 do you stand looking at me? What would you have? ' 
 
 'Your Grace's direction respecting the young lady,' 
 said Jerningham. 
 
 'Odd zooks,' said the duke, 'I had totally forgotten 
 her. Is she very tearful? Exceedingly afHicted?' 
 
 ' She does not take on so violently as I have seen some 
 do,' said Jerningham; 'but, for a strong, firm, concen- 
 trated indignation, I have seen none to match her.' 
 
 'Well, we will permit her to cool. I will not face the 
 affliction of a second fair one immediately. I am tired of 
 snivelling, and swelled eyes, and blubbered cheeks for 
 some time; and, moreover, must husband my powers of 
 consolation. Begone, and send the colonel.' 
 
 'Will your Grace permit me one other question?' de- 
 manded his confidant. 
 
 'Ask what thou wilt, Jerningham, and then begone.' 
 
 'Your Grace has determined to give up Christian/ 
 said the attendant. 'May I ask what becomes of the 
 kingdom of Man? ' 
 
 ' Forgotten, as I have a Christian soul!' said the duke 
 • — ' as much forgotten as if I had never nourished that 
 scheme of royal ambition. D — n it, we must knit up 
 the ravelled skean of that intrigue. Yet it is but a mis- 
 erable rock, not worth the trouble I have been bestowing 
 on it; and for a kingdom — it has a sound indeed; but, 
 in reality, I might as well stick a cock-chicken's feather 
 into my hat and call it a plume. Besides, now I think 
 upon it, it would scarce be honourable to sweep that 
 petty royalty out of Derby's possession. I won a thou- 
 sand pieces of the young earl when he was last here, and 
 
 258
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 suffered him to hang about me at court. I question if 
 the whole revenue of his kingdom is worth twice as much. 
 Easily I could win it of him, were he here, with less 
 trouble than it would cost me to carry on these trouble- 
 some intrigues of Christian's,' 
 
 'If I may be permitted to say so, please your Grace,' 
 answered Jerningham, 'although your Grace is perhaps 
 somewhat liable to change your mind, no man in Eng- 
 land can afford better reasons for doing so.' 
 
 'I think so myself, Jerningham,' said the duke; 'and 
 it may be it is one reason for my changing. One Kkes 
 to vindicate his own conduct, and to find out fme rea- 
 sons for doing what one has a mind to. And now, once 
 again, begone. Or, hark ye — hark ye, I shall need some 
 loose gold. You may leave the purse I gave you; and I 
 will give you an order for as much, and two years' inter- 
 est, on old Jacob Doublefee.' 
 
 'As your Grace pleases,' said Jerningham, his whole 
 stock of complaisance scarcely able to conceal his mor- 
 tification at exchanging for a distant order, of a kind 
 which of late had not been very regularly honoured, the 
 sunny contents of the purse which had actually been in 
 his pocket. Secretly but solemnly did he make a vow 
 that two years' interest alone should not be the com- 
 pensation for this involuntary exchange in the form of 
 his remuneration. 
 
 As the discontented dependant left the apartment, 
 he met, at the head of the grand staircase. Christian 
 himself, who, exercising the freedom of an ancient friend 
 of the house, was making his way, unannounced, to the 
 duke's dressing-apartment. Jerningham, conjecturing 
 that his visit at this crisis would be anything but well- 
 
 259
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 timed or well-taken, endeavoured to avert his purpose 
 by asserting that the duke was indisposed and in his 
 bedchamber; and this he said so loud that his master 
 might hear him, and, if he pleased, realise the apology 
 which he offered in his name by retreating into the bed- 
 room as his last sanctuary, and drawing the bolt against 
 intrusion. 
 
 But, far from adopting a stratagem to which he had 
 had recourse on former occasions, in order to avoid those 
 who came upon him, though at an appointed hour, and 
 upon business of importance, Buckingham called, in a 
 loud voice, from his dressing-apartment, commanding 
 his chamberlain instantly to introduce his good friend 
 Master Christian, and censuring him for hesitating for 
 an instant to do so. 
 
 'Now,' thought Jerningham within himself, 'if Chris- 
 tian knew the duke as well as I do, he would sooner stand 
 the leap of a lion, Hke the London 'prentice bold, than 
 venture on my master at this moment, who is even now 
 in a humour nearly as dangerous as the animal.' 
 
 He then ushered Christian into his master's presence, 
 taking care to post himself within ear-shot of the door.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 'Speak not of niceness, when there 's chance of wreck,' 
 The captain said, as ladies writhed their neck 
 To see the dying dolphin flap the deck. 
 'If we go down, on us these gentry sup ; 
 We dine upon them, if we haul them up. 
 Wise men applaud us when we eat the eaters, 
 As the devil laughs when keen folks cheat the cheaters.' 
 
 The Sea Voyage. 
 
 There was nothing in the duke's manner towards 
 Christian which could have conveyed to that latter per- 
 sonage, experienced as he was in the worst possible ways 
 of the world, that Buckingham would, at that particular 
 moment, rather have seen the devil than himself; unless 
 it was that Buckingham's reception of him, being rather 
 extraordinarily courteous towards so old an acquaint- 
 ance, might have excited some degree of suspicion. 
 
 Having escaped with some difl&culty from the vague 
 region of general compliments, which bears the same 
 relation to that of business that Milton informs us the 
 limbo patrum has to the sensible and material earth, 
 Christian asked his Grace of Buckingham, with the same 
 blunt plainness with which he usually veiled a very deep 
 and artificial character, whether he had lately seen 
 Chifiinch or his helpmate. 
 
 'Neither of them lately,' answered Buckingham. 
 'Have not you waited on them yourself? I thought you 
 would have been more anxious about the great scheme.' 
 
 'I have called once and again,' said Christian, 'but I 
 can gain no access to the sight of that important couple. 
 I begin to be afraid they are paltering with me.' 
 
 261
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'Which, by the welkin and its stars, you would not be 
 slow in avenging, Master Christian. I know your Pur- 
 itanical principles on that point well,' said the duke. 
 'Revenge may be well said to be sweet, when so many 
 grave and wise men are ready to exchange for it all the 
 sugar-plums which pleasures offer to the poor sinful 
 people of the world, besides the reversion of those which 
 they talk of expecting in the way of post obit J 
 
 * You may jest, my lord,' said Christian, ' but still — ' 
 
 'But still you will be revenged on Chiffinch and his 
 little commodious companion. And yet the task may be 
 difficult: Chiffinch has so many ways of obliging his 
 master; his little woman is such a convenient, pretty 
 sort of a screen, and has such winning Httle ways of her 
 own, that, in faith, in your case, I would not meddle 
 with them. What is this refusing their door, man? We 
 all do it to our best friends now and then, as well as to 
 duns and dull company.' 
 
 ' If your Grace is in a humour of rambling thus wildly 
 in your talk,' said Christian, 'you know my old faculty 
 of patience: I can wait till it be your pleasure to talk 
 more seriously.' 
 
 'Seriously!' said his Grace. 'Wherefore not? I only 
 wait to know what your serious business may be.' 
 
 ' In a word, my lord, from Chiffinch's refusal to see me, 
 and some vain calls which I have made at your Grace's 
 mansion, I am afraid either that our plan has miscar- 
 ried or that there is some intention to exclude me from 
 the further conduct of the matter.' Christian pro- 
 nounced these words with considerable emphasis. 
 
 'That were folly, as well as treachery,' returned the 
 duke, * to exclude from the spoil the very engineer who 
 
 262
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 conducted the attack. But hark ye, Christian — I am 
 sorry to tell bad news without preparation; but, as you 
 insist on knowing the worst, and are not ashamed to sus- 
 pect your best friends, out it must come. Your niece 
 left Chiffinch's house the morning before yesterday.' 
 
 Christian staggered, as if he had received a severe 
 blow ; and the blood ran to his face in such a current of 
 passion that the duke concluded he was struck with an 
 apoplexy. But, exerting the extraordinary command 
 which he could maintain under the most trying circum- 
 stances, he said, with a voice the composure of which 
 had an unnatural contrast with the alteration of his 
 countenance, 'Am I to conclude that, in leaving the 
 protection of the roof in which I placed her, the girl has 
 found shelter under that of your Grace? ' 
 
 'Sir,' replied Buckingham, gravely, 'the supposition 
 does my gallantry more credit than it deserves.' 
 
 'Oh, my lord duke,' answered Christian, 'I am not 
 one whom you can impose on by this species of courtly 
 jargon. I know of what your Grace is capable; and that, 
 to gratify the caprice of a moment, you would not hes- 
 itate to disappoint even the schemes at which you your- 
 self have laboured most busily. Suppose this jest played 
 oflf. Take your laugh at those simple precautions by 
 which I intended to protect your Grace's interest, as 
 well as that of others. Let us know the extent of your 
 frolic, and consider how far its consequences can be re- 
 paired.' 
 
 'On my word, Christian,' said the duke, laughing, 'you 
 are the most obliging of uncles and of guardians. Let 
 your niece pass through as many adventures as Boc- 
 caccio's bride of the King of Garba, you care not. Pure 
 
 263
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 or soiled, she will still make the footstool of your for- 
 tune,' 
 
 An Indian proverb says that the dart of contempt will 
 even pierce through the shell of the tortoise; but this is 
 more peculiarly the case when conscience tells the sub- 
 ject of the sarcasm that it is justly merited. Christian, 
 stung with Buckingham's reproach, at once assumed 
 a haughty and threatening mien, totally inconsistent 
 with that in which sufferance seemed to be as much his 
 badge as that of Shylock. ' You are a foul-mouthed and 
 most unworthy lord,' he said; 'and as such I will pro- 
 claim you, unless you make reparation for the injury 
 you have done me.' 
 
 *And what,' said the Duke of Buckingham, 'shall I 
 proclaim you, that can give you the least title to notice 
 from such as I am? What name shall I bestow on the 
 little transaction which has given rise to such unex- 
 pected misunderstanding? ' 
 
 Christian was silent, either from rage or from mental 
 conviction. 
 
 'Come — come. Christian,' said the duke, smiling, 
 'we know too much of each other to make a quarrel safe. 
 Hate each other we may, circumvent each other — it is 
 the way of courts — but proclaim ! a fico for the phrase.' 
 
 *I used it not,' said Christian, 'till your Grace drove 
 me to extremity. You know, my lord, I have fought 
 both at home and abroad; and you should not rashly 
 think that I will endure any indignity which blood can 
 wipe away.' 
 
 'On the contrary,' said the duke, with the same civil 
 and sneering manner, ' I can confidently assert that the 
 life of half a score of your friends would seem very light 
 
 264
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 to you, Christian, if their existence interfered, I do not 
 say with your character, as being a thing of much less 
 consequence, but with any advantage which their exist- 
 ence might intercept. Fie upon it, man, we have known 
 each other long. I never thought you a coward, and am 
 only glad to see I could strike a few sparkles of heat out 
 of your cold and constant disposition. I will now, if you 
 please, tell you at once the fate of the young lady, in 
 which I pray you to believe I that am truly interested.' 
 
 'I hear you, my lord duke,' said Christian. 'The curl 
 of your upper lip and your eyebrow does not escape me. 
 Your Grace knows the French proverb, "He laughs best 
 who laughs last." But I hear you.' 
 
 'Thank Heaven you do,' said Buckingham; 'for your 
 case requires haste, I promise you, and involves no laugh- 
 ing matter. Well, then, hear a simple truth, on which, 
 if it became me to offer any pledge for what I assert to 
 be such, I could pledge life, fortune, and honour. It 
 was the morning before last, when, meeting with the 
 King at Chiffinch's unexpectedly — in fact, I had 
 looked in to fool an hour away, and to learn how your 
 scheme advanced — I saw a singular scene. Your niece 
 terrified Httle Chiffinch — the hen Chiffinch, I mean — 
 bid the King defiance to his teeth, and walked out of 
 the presence triumphantly, under the guardianship of a 
 young fellow of little mark or Ukehhood, excepting a 
 tolerable personal presence and the advantage of a most 
 unconquerable impudence. Egad, I can hardly help 
 laughing to think how the King and I were both baffled; 
 for I will not deny that I had tried to trifle for a moment 
 with the fair Indamora. But, egad, the young fellow 
 swooped her off from under our noses like my own Draw- 
 
 265
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 cansir clearing o£f the banquet from the two kings of 
 Brentford. There was a dignity in the gallant's swag- 
 gering retreat which I must try to teach Mohun;^ it will 
 suit his part admirably.' 
 
 'This is incomprehensible, my lord duke,' said Chris- 
 tian, who by this time had recovered all his usual cool- 
 ness; 'you cannot expect me to believe this. Who dared 
 be so bold as to carry off my niece in such a manner, and 
 from so august a presence? And with whom, a stranger 
 as he must have been, would she, wise and cautious as I 
 know her, have consented to depart in such a manner? 
 My lord, I cannot beHeve this.' 
 
 'One of your priests, my most devout Christian,' re- 
 plied the duke, 'would only answer, "Die, infidel, in 
 thine unbelief"; but I am only a poor worldling sinner, 
 and will add what mite of information I can. The 
 young fellow's name, as I am given to understand, is 
 JuHan, son of Sir Geoffrey, whom men call Peveril of the 
 Peak.' 
 
 'Peveril of the Devil, who hath his cavern there!' said 
 Christian, warmly; 'for I know that gallant, and be- 
 lieve him capable of anything bold and desperate. But 
 how could he intrude himself into the royal presence? 
 Either Hell aids him or Heaven looks nearer into moral 
 dealings than I have yet believed. If so, may God for- 
 give us, who deemed He thought not on us at all!' 
 
 'Amen, most Christian Christian,' replied the duke. 
 ' I am glad to see thou hast yet some touch of grace that 
 leads thee to augur so. But Empson, the hen ChiflSnch, 
 and half a dozen more, saw the swain's entrance and 
 departure. Please examine these witnesses with your 
 
 * Then a noted actor. 
 266
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 own wisdom, if you think your time may not be better 
 employed in tracing the fugitives. I believe he gained 
 entrance as one of some dancing or masking party. 
 Rowley, you know, is accessible to all who will come 
 forth to make him sport. So in stole this termagant, 
 tearing gallant, like Samson among the Philistines, to 
 pull down our fine scheme about our ears.' 
 
 'I believe you, my lord,' said Christian — I cannot 
 but believe you ; and I forgive you, since it is your na- 
 ture, for making sport of what is ruin and destruction. 
 But which way did they take? ' 
 
 'To Derbyshire, I should presume, to seek her father,' 
 said the duke. * She spoke of going into the paternal pro- 
 tection, instead of yours, Master Christian. Something 
 had chanced at Chiffinch's to give her cause to suspect 
 that you had not altogether provided for his daughter in 
 the manner which her father was likely to approve of.' 
 
 'Now, Heaven be praised,' said Christian, 'she knows 
 not her father is come to London! and they must be 
 gone down either to Martindale Castle or to Moultrassie 
 Hall; in either case they are in my power; I must follow 
 them close. I will return instantly to Derbyshire. I am 
 undone if she meet her father until these errors are 
 amended. Adieu, my lord. I forgive the part which I 
 fear your Grace must have had in baulking our enter- 
 prise; it is no time for mutual reproaches.' 
 
 'You speak truth, Master Christian,' said the duke, 
 'and I wish you all success. Can I help you with men 
 or horses or money? ' 
 
 'I thank your Grace,' said Christian, and hastily left 
 the apartment. 
 
 The Duke watched his descending footsteps on the 
 267
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 staircase, until they could be heard no longer, and then 
 exclaimed to Jerningham, who entered, * Victoria I vic- 
 toria I magna est Veritas et prcBvalebit ! Had I told the vil- 
 lain a word of a lie, he is so familiar with all the regions 
 of falsehood — his whole life has been such an absolute 
 imposture — that I had stood detected in an instant; 
 but I told him truth, and that was the only means of 
 deceiving him. Victoria I my dear Jerningham, I am 
 prouder of cheating Christian than I should have been 
 of circumventing a minister of state.' 
 
 'Your Grace holds his wisdom very high,' said the 
 attendant. 
 
 'His cunning, at least, I do, which, in court affairs, 
 often takes the weather-gage of wisdom, as in Yar- 
 mouth Roads a herring-buss will baffle a frigate. He 
 shall not return to London if I can help it until all these 
 intrigues are over.' 
 
 As his Grace spoke, the colonel, after whom he had 
 repeatedly made inquiry, was announced by a gentle- 
 man of his household. 'He met not Christian, did he?' 
 said the duke, hastily. 
 
 'No, my lord,' returned the domestic, 'the colonel 
 came by the old garden staircase.' 
 
 'I judged as much,' replied the duke; "t is an owl 
 that will not take wing in daylight, when there is a 
 thicket left to skulk under. Here he comes from thread- 
 ing lane, vault, and ruinous alley, very near as ominous 
 a creature as the fowl of ill augury which he resembles.' 
 
 The colonel, to whom no other appellation seemed 
 to be given than that which belonged to his military sta- 
 tion, now entered the apartment. He was tall, strongly 
 built, and past the middle period of Hf e, and his counten- 
 
 268
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ance, but for the heavy cloud which dwelt upon it, might 
 have been pronounced a handsome one. While the duke 
 spoke to him, either from humility or some other cause, 
 his large, serious eye was cast down upon the ground; 
 but he raised it, when he answered, with a keen look of 
 earnest observation. His dress was very plain, and 
 more allied to that of the Puritans than of the Cava- 
 liers of the time; a shadowy black hat like the Spanish 
 sombrero, a large black mantle or cloak, and a long 
 rapier, gave him something the air of a Castilione, to 
 which his gravity and stiffness of demeanour added con- 
 siderable strength. 
 
 'Well, colonel,' said the duke, 'we have been long 
 strangers; how have matters gone with you?' 
 
 'As with other men of action in quiet times,' answered 
 the colonel, 'or as a good war-caper that lies high and 
 dry in a muddy creek till seams and planks are rent 
 and riven.' 
 
 'Well, colonel,' said the duke, 'I have used your 
 valour before now, and I may again; so that I shall 
 speedily see that the vessel is careened and undergoes a 
 thorough repair.' 
 
 'I conjecture, then,' said the colonel, 'that your 
 Grace has some voyage in hand? ' 
 
 'No, but there is one which I want to interrupt,' re- 
 plied the duke. 
 
 "Tis but another stave of the same tune. Well, my 
 lord, I Hsten,' answered the stranger. 
 
 'Nay,' said the duke, 'it is but a trifling matter after 
 all. You know Ned Christian? ' 
 
 'Ay, surely, my lord,' replied the colonel ; 'we have 
 been long known to each other.' 
 
 269
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'He is about to go down to Derbyshire to seek a cer- 
 tain niece of his, whom he will scarcely find there. Now, 
 I trust to your tried friendship to interrupt his return 
 to London. Go with him, or meet him, cajole him, or 
 assail him, or do what thou wilt with him, only keep him 
 from London for a fortnight at least, and then I care 
 little how soon he comes.' 
 
 'For by that time, I suppose,' replied the colonel, 
 'any one may find the wench that thinks her worth the 
 looking for.' 
 
 'Thou mayst think her worth the looking for thyself, 
 colonel,' rejoined the duke; 'I promise you she hath 
 many a thousand stitched to her petticoat; such a wife 
 would save thee from skeldering on the public' 
 
 'My lord, I sell my blood and my sword, but not 
 my honour,' answered the man, sullenly; 'if I marry, 
 my bed may be a poor, but it shall be an honest 
 one.' 
 
 'Then thy wife will be the only honest matter in thy 
 possession, colonel, at least since I have known you,' 
 replied the duke. 
 
 'Why, truly, your Grace may speak your pleasure 
 on that point. It is chiefly your business which I have 
 done of late; and if it were less strictly honest than I 
 could have wished, the employer was to blame as well 
 as the agent. But for marrying a cast-off mistress, the 
 man — saving your Grace, to whom I am bound — 
 lives not who dares propose it to me.' 
 
 The duke laughed loudly. 'Why, this is mine An- 
 cient Pistol's vein,' he replied. 
 
 ' Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, 
 And by my side wear steel? then Lucifer take all!' 
 
 270
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'My breeding is too plain to understand ends of play- 
 house verse, my lord,' said the colonel, sullenly. 'Has 
 •your Grace no other service to command me?' 
 
 'None; only I am told you have published a Narra- 
 tive concerning the Plot.'^ 
 
 'What should ail me, my lord?' said the colonel. 'I 
 hope I am a witness as competent as any that has yet 
 appeared? ' 
 
 'Truly, I think so to the full,' said the duke; 'and it 
 would have been hard, when so much profitable mis- 
 chief was going, if so excellent a Protestant as yourself 
 had not come in for a share.' 
 
 'I came to take your Grace's commands, not to be 
 the object of your wit,' said the colonel. 
 
 'Gallantly spoken, most resolute and most immacu- 
 late colonel ! As you are to be on full pay in my service 
 for a month to come, I pray your acceptance of this 
 purse, for contingents and equipments, and you shall 
 have my instructions from time to time.' 
 
 'They shall be punctually obeyed, my lord,' said the 
 colonel; 'I know the duty of a subaltern ofl&cer. I wish 
 your Grace a good morning.' 
 
 So saying, he pocketed the purse, without either af- 
 fecting hesitation or expressing gratitude, but merely 
 as a part of a transaction in the regular way of business, 
 and stalked from the apartment with the same sullen 
 gravity which marked his entrance. * Now, there goes a 
 scoundrel after my own heart,' said the duke; 'a robber 
 from his cradle, a murderer since he could hold a knife, 
 a profound hypocrite in reHgion, and a worse and deeper 
 hypocrite in honour — would sell his soul to the devil 
 
 ' See Note 12. 
 271
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to accomplish any villainy, and would cut the throat 
 of his brother, did he dare to give the villainy he had so 
 acted its right name. Now, why stand you amazed, " 
 good Master Jerningham, and look on me as you would 
 on some monster of Ind, when you had paid your shil- 
 ling to see it, and were staring out your pennyworth 
 with your eyes as round as a pair of spectacles? Wink, 
 man, and save them, and then let thy tongue untie the 
 mystery.' 
 
 'On my word, my lord duke,' answered Jerningham, 
 * since I am compelled to speak, I can only say, that the 
 longer I live with your Grace, I am the more at a loss to 
 fathom your motives of action. Others lay plans, either 
 to attain profit or pleasure by their execution; but your 
 Grace's delight is to counteract your own schemes,when 
 in the very act of performance, like a child — forgive 
 me — that breaks its favourite toy, or a man who 
 should set fire to the house he has half built.' 
 
 * And why not, if he wanted to warm his hands at the 
 blaze? ' said the duke. 
 
 *Ay, my lord,' replied his dependant; 'but what if, in 
 doing so, he should burn his fingers? My lord, it is one 
 of your noblest qualities, that you will sometimes listen 
 to the truth without taking offence; but were it other- 
 wise, I could not, at this moment, help speaking out at 
 every risk.' 
 
 'Well, say on, I can bear it,' said the duke, throwing 
 himself into an easy chair and using his toothpick with 
 graceful indifference and equanimity; 'I love to hear 
 what such potsherds as thou art think of the proceed- 
 ings of us who are of the pure porcelain clay of the 
 earth.' 
 
 272
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'In the name of Heaven, my lord, let me then ask 
 you,' said Jerningham, 'what merit you claim, or what 
 advantage you expect, from having embroiled every- 
 thing in which you are concerned to a degree which 
 equals the chaos of the blind old Roundhead's poem 
 which your Grace is so fond of? To begin with the King. 
 In spite of good-humour, he will be incensed at your 
 repeated rivalry.' 
 
 'His Majesty defied me to it.' 
 
 'You have lost all hopes of the isle, by quarrelling 
 with Christian.' 
 
 'I have ceased to care a farthing about it,' repHed the 
 duke. 
 
 'In Christian himself, whom you have insulted, and 
 to whose family you intend dishonour, you have lost a 
 sagacious, artful, and cool-headed instrument and ad- 
 herent,' said the monitor. 
 
 'Poor Jerningham!' answered the duke; 'Christian 
 would say as much for thee, I doubt not, wert thou dis- 
 carded to-morrow. It is the common error of such tools 
 as you and he to think themselves indispensable. As to 
 his family, what was never honourable cannot be dis- 
 honoured by any connexion with my house.' 
 
 'I say nothing of ChifSnch,' said Jerningham, 'of- 
 fended as he will be when he learns why, and by 
 whom, his scheme has been ruined and the lady spir- 
 ited away. He and his wife — I say nothing of them.' 
 
 'You need not,' said the duke; 'for, were they even fit 
 persons to speak to me about, the Duchess of Ports- 
 mouth has bargained for their disgrace.' 
 
 'Then this bloodhound of a colonel, as he calls him- 
 self — your Grace cannot even lay him on a quest which 
 28 273
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 is to do you service, but you must do him such indignity 
 at the same time as he will not fail to remember, and be 
 sure to fly at your throat should he ever have an oppor- 
 tunity of turning on you.' 
 
 *I will take care he has none,' said the duke; 'and 
 yours, Jerningham, is a low-lived apprehension. Beat 
 your spaniel heartily if you would have him under com- 
 mand. Ever let your agents see you know what they 
 are, and prize them accordingly. A rogue, who must 
 needs be treated as a man of honour, is apt to get above 
 his work. Enough, therefore, of your advice and cen- 
 sure, Jerningham; we differ in every particular. Were 
 we both engineers, you would spend your life in watch- 
 ing some old woman's wheel, which spins flax by the 
 ounce; I must be in the midst of the most varied and 
 counteracting machinery, regulating checks and coun- 
 ter-checks, balancing weights, proving springs and 
 wheels, directing and controlling a hundred combined 
 powers.' 
 
 'And your fortune, in the meanwhile?' said Jerning- 
 ham; 'pardon this last hint, my lord.' 
 
 'My fortune,' said the duke, 'is too vast to be hurt by 
 a petty wound; and I have, as thou knowest, a thousand 
 salves in store for the scratches and scars which it some- 
 times receives in greasing my machinery.' 
 
 'Your Grace does not mean Dr. Wilderhead's pow- 
 der of projection? ' 
 
 'Pshaw! he is a quacksalver, and mountebank, and 
 beggar.' 
 
 'Or Solicitor Drowndland's plan for draining the 
 fens?' 
 
 'He is a cheat — videlicet, an attorney.' 
 274
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Or the Laird of Lackpelf's sale of Highland woods?' 
 
 'He is a Scotsman/ said the duke — 'videlicet, both 
 cheat and beggar.' 
 
 ' These streets here, upon the site of your noble man- 
 sion-house?' said Jerningham. 
 
 * The architect 's a bite, and the plan 's a bubble. I am 
 sick of the sight of this rubbish, and I will soon replace 
 our old alcoves, alleys, and flower-pots by an Italian 
 garden and a new palace.' 
 
 'That, my lord, would be to waste, not to improve, 
 your fortune,' said his domestic. 
 
 ' Clodpate and muddy spirit that thou art, thou hast 
 forgot the most hopeful scheme of all — the South Sea 
 Fisheries; their stock is up 50 per cent already. Post 
 down to the Alley and tell old Manasses to buy £20,- 
 ocx) for me. Forgive me, Plutus, I forgot to lay my 
 sacrifice on thy shrine, and yet expected thy favours! 
 Fly post haste, Jerningham — for thy life, for thy life, 
 for thy lifel'i 
 
 With hands and eyes upHfted, Jerningham left the 
 apartment; and the duke, without thinking a moment 
 further on old or new intrigues, on the friendship he had 
 formed, or the enmity he had provoked, on the beauty 
 whom he had carried off from her natural protectors, as 
 well as from her lover, or on the monarch against whom 
 he had placed himself in rivalship, sat down to calculate 
 chances with all the zeal of De Moivre; tired of the 
 drudgery in half an hour ; and refused to see the zealous 
 agent whom he had employed in the city, because he 
 was busily engaged in writing a new lampoon. 
 
 * See Note 13.
 
 CHAPTER XXXrX 
 
 Ah I changeful head and fickle heart I 
 
 Progress of Discontent. 
 
 No event is more ordinary in narratives of this nature 
 than the abduction of the female on whose fate the in- 
 terest is supposed to turn; but that of Alice Bridgenorth 
 was thus far particular, that she was spirited away by 
 the Duke of Buckingham more in contradiction than in 
 the rivalry of passion; and that, as he made his first ad- 
 dresses to her at Chiffinch's rather in the spirit of rivalry 
 to his sovereign than from any strong impression which 
 her beauty had made on his affections, so he had formed 
 the sudden plan of spiriting her away by means of his 
 dependants rather to perplex Christian, the King, Chif- 
 finch, and all concerned, than because he had any par- 
 ticular desire for her society at his own mansion. In- 
 deed, so far was this from being the case, that his Grace 
 was rather surprised than delighted with the success of 
 the enterprise which had made her an inmate there, al- 
 though it is probable he might have thrown himself into 
 an uncontrollable passion had he learned its miscarriage 
 instead of its success. 
 
 Twenty-four hours passed over since he had returned 
 to his own roof before, notwithstanding sundry hints 
 from Jemingham, he could even determine on the exer- 
 tion necessary to pay his fair captive a visit ; and then 
 it was with the internal reluctance of one who can only 
 be stirred from indolence by novelty. 
 
 276
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'I wonder what made me plague myself about this 
 wench,' said he, *and doom myself to encounter all the 
 hysterical rhapsodies of a country Phillis, with her head 
 stuffed with her grandmother's lessons about virtue and 
 the Bible-book, when the finest and best-bred women 
 in town may be had upon more easy terms. It is a pity 
 one cannot mount the victor's car of triumph without 
 having a victory to boast of; yet, faith, it is what most 
 of our modern gallants do, though it would not become 
 Buckingham. Well, I must see her,' he concluded, 
 * though it were but to rid the house of her. The Ports- 
 mouth will not hear of her being set at liberty near 
 Charles, so much is she afraid of a new fair seducing the 
 old sinner from his allegiance. So how the girl is to be 
 disposed of — for I shall have little fancy to keep her 
 here, and she is too wealthy to be sent down to Cliefden 
 as a housekeeper — is a matter to be thought on.' 
 
 He then called for such a dress as might set ofif his 
 natural good mien — a compliment which he considered 
 as due to his own merit ; for as to anything further, he 
 went to pay his respects to his fair prisoner with almost 
 as little zeal in the cause as a gallant to fight a duel in 
 which he has no warmer interest than the maintenance 
 of his reputation as a man of honour. 
 
 The set of apartments consecrated to the use of those 
 favourites who occasionally made Buckingham's man- 
 sion their place of abode, and who were, so far as liberty 
 was concerned, often required to observe the regula- 
 tions of a convent, were separated from the rest of the 
 duke's extensive mansion. He lived in the age when 
 what was called gallantry warranted the most atrocious 
 actions of deceit and violence; as may be best illustrated 
 
 277
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 by the catastrophe of an unfortunate actress, whose 
 beauty attracted the attention of the last De Vere, Earl 
 of Oxford. While her virtue defied his seductions, he 
 ruined her under colour of a mock marriage, and was 
 rewarded for a success which occasioned the death of his 
 victim by the general applause of the men of wit and 
 gallantry who filled the drawing-room of Charles. 
 
 Buckingham had made provision in the interior of his 
 ducal mansion for exploits of a similar nature; and the 
 set of apartments which he now visited were alternately 
 used to confine the reluctant and to accommodate the 
 willing. 
 
 Being now destined for the former purpose, the key 
 was delivered to the duke by a hooded and spectacled 
 old lady, who sat reading a devout book in the outer 
 hall which divided these apartments, usually called the 
 Nunnery, from the rest of the house. This experienced 
 dowager acted as mistress of the ceremonies on such 
 occasions, and was the trusty depositary of more in- 
 trigues than were known to any dozen of her worshipful 
 calling besides. 
 
 'As sweet a linnet,' she said, as she undid the out- 
 ward door, 'as ever sung in a cage.' 
 
 'I was afraid she might have been more for moping 
 than for singing, Dowlas,' said the duke. 
 
 'Till yesterday she was so, please your Grace,' an- 
 swered Dowlas; 'or, to speak sooth, till early this morn- 
 ing, we heard of nothing but lachrymcB, But the air of 
 your noble Grace's house is favourable to singing-birds, 
 and to-day matters have been a-much mended.' 
 
 "T is sudden, dame,' said the duke; 'and 't is some- 
 thing strange, considering that I have never visited her, 
 
 278
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 that the pretty trembler should have been so soon recon- 
 ciled to her fate.' 
 
 * Ah, your Grace has such magic that it communicates 
 itself to your very walls; as wholesome Scripture says, 
 Exodus, first and seventh, "It cleaveth to the walls and 
 the door-posts. " ' 
 
 * You are too partial, Dame Dowlas,' said the Duke of 
 Buckingham. 
 
 'Not a word but truth,' said the dame; 'and I wish I 
 may be an outcast from the fold of the lambs, but I 
 think this damsel's very frame has changed since she 
 was under your Grace's roof. Methinks she hath a 
 lighter form, a finer step, a more displayed ankle — I 
 cannot tell, but I think there is a change. But lack-a- 
 day, your Grace knows I am as old as I am trusty, and 
 that my eyes wax something uncertain.' 
 
 * Especially when you wash them with a cup of canary, 
 Dame Dowlas,' answered the duke, who was aware that 
 temperance was not amongst the cardinal virtues which 
 were most familiar to the old lady's practice. 
 
 'Was it canary, your Grace said? Was it indeed 
 with canary that your Grace should have supposed 
 me to have washed my eyes?' said the offended ma- 
 tron. *I am sorry that your Grace should know me no 
 better.' 
 
 'I crave your pardon, dame,' said the duke, shaking 
 aside, fastidiously, the grasp which, in the earnestness of 
 her exculpation. Madam Dowlas had clutched upon his 
 sleeve — 'I crave your pardon. Your nearer approach 
 has convinced me of my erroneous imputation : I should 
 have said Nantz, not canary.' 
 
 So saying, he walked forward into the inner apart- 
 279
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ments, which were fitted up with an air of voluptuous 
 
 magnificence. 
 
 'The dame said true, however,' said the proud deviser 
 and proprietor of the splendid mansion. *A country 
 Phillis might well reconcile herself to such a prison as 
 this, even without a skilful bird-fancier to touch a bird- 
 call. But I wonder where she can be, this rural Phidele. 
 Is it possible she can have retreated, like a despairing 
 commandant, into her bedchamber, the very citadel of 
 the place, without even an attempt to defend the out- 
 works? ' 
 
 As he made this reflection, he passed through an ante- 
 chamber and little eating-parlour, exquisitely furnished, 
 and hung with excellent paintings of the Venetian school. 
 
 Beyond these lay a withdrawing-room, fitted up in a 
 style of still more studied elegance. The windows were 
 darkened with painted glass, of such a deep and rich 
 colour as made the mid-day beams, which found their 
 way into the apartment, imitate the rich colours of sun- 
 set ; and, in the celebrated expression of the poet, ' taught 
 light to counterfeit a gloom.' 
 
 Buckingham's feelings and taste had been too much, 
 and too often, and too readily, gratified to permit him, 
 in the general case, to be easily accessible, even to those 
 pleasures which it had been the business of his fife to pur- 
 sue. The hackneyed voluptuary is like the jaded epicure, 
 the mere listlessness of whose appetite becomes at length 
 a sufiicient penalty for having made it the principal ob- 
 ject of his enjoyment and cultivation. Yet novelty has 
 always some charms, and uncertainty has more. 
 
 The doubt how he was to be received, the change of 
 mood which his prisoner was said to have evinced, the 
 
 2S0
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 curiosity to know how such a creature as Alice Bridge- 
 north had been described was hkely to bear herself under 
 the circumstances in which she was so unexpectedly 
 placed, had upon Buckingham the effect of exciting un- 
 usual interest. On his own part, he had none of those 
 feelings of anxiety with which a man, even of the most 
 vulgar mind, comes to the presence of the female whom 
 he wishes to please, far less the more refined sentiments 
 of love, respect, desire, and awe with which the more re- 
 fined lover approaches the beloved object. He had been, 
 to use an expressive French phrase, too completely 
 blase even from his earliest youth to permit him now to 
 experience the animal eagerness of the one, far less the 
 more sentimental pleasure of the other. It is no small 
 aggravation of this jaded and uncomfortable state of 
 mind that the voluptuary cannot renounce the pursuits 
 with which he is satiated, but must continue, for his 
 character's sake, or from the mere force of habit, to take 
 all the toil, fatigue, and danger of the chase, while he has 
 so little real interest in the termination. 
 
 Buckingham, therefore, felt it due to his reputation 
 as a successful hero of intrigue to pay his addresses to 
 Alice Bridgenorth with dissembled eagerness; and, as he 
 opened the door of the inner apartment, he paused to 
 consider whether the tone of gallantry or that of passion 
 was fittest to use on the occasion. This delay enabled 
 him to hear a few notes of a lute, touched with exqui- 
 site skill, and accompanied by the still sweeter strains of 
 a female voice, which, without executing any complete 
 melody, seemed to sport itself in rivalship of the silver 
 sound of the instrument. 
 
 * A creature so well educated,' said the duke, 'with the 
 281
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sense she is said to possess, would, rustic as she is, laugh 
 at the assumed rants of Oroondates. It is the vein of 
 Dorimant — once, Buckingham, thine own — that must 
 here do the feat, besides that the part is easier.' 
 
 So thinking, he entered the room with that easy grace 
 which characterised the gay courtiers among whom he 
 flourished, and approached the fair tenant, whom he 
 found seated near a table covered with books and music, 
 and having on her left hand the large half-open case- 
 ment, dim with stained glass, admitting only a doubtful 
 light into this lordly retiring-room, which, hung with the 
 richest tapestry of the Gobelines, and ornamented with 
 piles of china and splendid mirrors, seemed like a bower 
 built for a prince to receive his bride. 
 
 The splendid dress of the inmate corresponded with 
 the taste of the apartment which she occupied, and par- 
 took of the Oriental costume which the much-admired 
 Roxalana had then brought into fashion. A slender foot 
 and ankle, which escaped from the wide trowser of richly 
 ornamented and embroidered blue satin, was the only 
 part of her person distinctly seen ; the rest was enveloped, 
 from head to foot, in a long veil of silver gauze, which, 
 hke a feathery and light mist on a beautiful landscape, 
 suffered you to perceive that what it concealed was 
 rarely lovely, yet induced the imagination even to en- 
 hance the charms it shaded. Such part of the dress as 
 could be discovered, was, like the veil and the trows- 
 ers, in the Oriental taste ; a rich turban and splendid caf- 
 tan were rather indicated than distinguished through 
 the folds of the former. The whole attire argued at least 
 coquetry on the part of a fair one, who must have ex- 
 pected, from her situation, a visitor of some pretension; 
 
 282
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 and induced Buckingham to smile internally at Chris- 
 tian's account of the extreme simplicity and purity of 
 his niece. 
 
 He approached the lady en cavalier, and addressed her 
 with the air of being conscious, while he acknowledged 
 his offences, that his condescending to do so formed a 
 sufficient apology for them, 'Fair Mistress Alice,' he 
 said, ' I am sensible how deeply I ought to sue for pardon 
 for the mistaken zeal of my servants, who, seeing you de- 
 serted and exposed without protection during an un- 
 lucky affray, took it upon them to bring you under the 
 roof of one who would expose his life rather than suffer 
 you to sustain a moment's anxiety. Was it my fault that 
 those around me should have judged it necessary to inter- 
 fere for your preservation ; or that, aware of the interest 
 I must take in you, they have detained you till I could 
 myself, in personal attendance, receive your commands? ' 
 
 'That attendance has not been speedily rendered, my 
 lord,' answered the lady. *I have been a prisoner for two 
 days — neglected, and left to the charge of menials.' 
 
 * How say you, lady? Neglected ! ' exclaimed the duke. 
 'By Heaven, if the best in my household has failed in his 
 duty, I will discard him on the instant!' 
 
 * I complain of no lack of courtesy from your servants, 
 my lord,' she replied; 'but methinks it had been com- 
 plaisant in the duke himself to explain to. me earlier 
 wherefore he has had the boldness to detain me as a state 
 prisoner.' 
 
 'And can the divine Alice doubt,' said Buckingham, 
 'that, had time and space, those cruel enemies to the 
 flight of passion, given permission, the instant in which 
 you crossed your vassal's threshold had seen its devoted 
 
 283
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 master at your feet, who hath thought, since he saw you, 
 of nothing but the charms which that fatal morning 
 placed before him at Chiffinch's? ' 
 
 'I understand, then, my lord,' said the lady, 'that you 
 have been absent, and have had no part in the restraint 
 which has been exercised upon me? ' 
 
 'Absent on the King's command, lady, and employed 
 in the discharge of his duty,' answered Buckingham, 
 without hesitation. 'What could I do? The moment you 
 left Chiffinch's, his Majesty commanded me to the sad- 
 dle in such haste that I had no time to change my satin 
 buckskins for riding-boots.^ If my absence has occa- 
 sioned you a moment of inconvenience, blame the incon- 
 siderate zeal of those who, seeing me depart from Lon- 
 don, half distracted at my separation from you, were 
 wilKng to contribute their unmannered, though well- 
 meant, exertions to preserve their master from despair, 
 by retaining the fair Alice within his reach. To whom, 
 indeed, could they have restored you? He whom you 
 selected as your champion is in prison or fled, your 
 father absent from town, your uncle in the north. To 
 Chiffinch's house you had expressed your well-founded 
 aversion ; and what fitter asylum remained than that of 
 your devoted slave, where you must ever reign a queen? ' 
 
 'An imprisoned one,' said the lady. 'I desire not such 
 royalty.' 
 
 'Alas! how wilfully you misconstrue me!' said the 
 duke, kneeling on one knee; 'and what right can you 
 have to complain of a few hours' gentle restraint — you, 
 who destine so many to hopeless captivity! Be merciful 
 for once, and withdraw that envious veil; for the di\4n- 
 * See Note 14. 
 284
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ities are ever most cruel when they deliver their oracles 
 from such clouded recesses. Suffer at least my rash 
 hand — ' 
 
 *I will save your Grace that im worthy trouble/ said 
 the lady, haughtily; and rising up, she flung back over 
 her shoulders the veil which shrouded her, saying, at the 
 same time, ' Look on me, my lord duke, and see if these 
 be indeed the charms which have made on your Grace 
 an impression so powerful.' 
 
 Buckingham did look; and the effect produced on him 
 by surprise was so strong that he rose hastily from his 
 knee, and remained for a few seconds as if he had been 
 petrified. The figure that stood before him had neither 
 the height nor the rich shape of Alice Bridgenorth; and, 
 though perfectly well made, was so sHghtly formed as to 
 seem almost infantine. Her dress was three or four short 
 vests of embroidered satin, disposed one over the other, 
 of different colours, or rather different shades of similar 
 colours; for strong contrast was carefully avoided. These 
 opened in front, so as to show part of the throat and neck, 
 partially obscured by an inner covering of the finest lace ; 
 over the uppermost vest was worn a sort of mantle or 
 coat of rich fur. A small but magnificent turban was 
 carelessly placed on her head, from under which flowed 
 a profusion of coal-black tresses, which Cleopatra might 
 have envied. The taste and splendour of the Eastern 
 dress corresponded with the complexion of the lady's 
 face, which was brunette, of a shade so dark as might 
 almost have served an Indian. 
 
 Amidst a set of features in which rapid and keen ex- 
 pression made amends for the want of regular beauty, 
 the essential points of eyes as bright as diamonds and 
 
 285
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 teeth as white as pearls did not escape the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, a professed connoisseur in female charms. In a 
 word, the fanciful and singular female who thus unex- 
 pectedly produced herself before him had one of those 
 faces which are never seen without making an impres- 
 sion; which, when removed, are long after remembered; 
 and for which, in our idleness, we are tempted to invent 
 a himdred histories, that we may please our fancy by 
 supposing the features under the influence of different 
 kinds of emotion. Every one must have in recollection 
 countenances of this kind, which, from a captivating and 
 stimulating originality of expression, abide longer in the 
 memory, and are more seductive to the imagination, 
 than even regular beauty. 
 
 *My lord duke,' said the lady, 'it seems the lifting of 
 my veil has done the work of magic upon your Grace. 
 Alas, for the captive princess, whose nod was to com- 
 mand a vassal so costly as your Grace! She runs, me- 
 thinks, no slight chance of being turned out of doors, 
 like a second Cinderella, to seek her fortune among 
 lackeys and lightermen.' 
 
 * I am astonished ! ' said the duke. * That villain, Jem- 
 ingham — I will have the scoundrel's blood!' 
 
 *Nay, never abuse Jerningham for the matter,' said 
 the Unknown; 'but lament your own unhappy engage- 
 ments. While you, my lord duke, were posting north- 
 ward, in white satin buskins, to toil in the King's affairs, 
 the right and lawful princess sat weeping in sables in the 
 imcheered soHtude to which your absence condemned 
 her. Two days she was disconsolate in vain; on the third 
 came an African enchantress to change the scene for her, 
 and the person for your Grace. Methinks, my lord, this 
 
 286
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 adventure will tell but ill, when some faithful squire 
 shall recount or record the gallant adventures of the 
 second Duke of Buckingham.' 
 
 'Fairly bit, and bantered to boot,' said the duke; 'the 
 monkey has a turn for satire, too, by all that is piquante. 
 Hark ye, fair princess, how dared you adventure on 
 such a trick as you have been accomplice to?' 
 
 'Dare, my lord!' answered the stranger; 'put the 
 question to others, not to one who fears nothing.' 
 
 ' By my faith, I believe so ; for thy front is bronzed by 
 nature. Hark ye once more, mistress. What is your 
 name and condition? ' 
 
 ' My condition I have told you : I am a Mauritanian 
 sorceress by profession, and my name is Zarah,' replied 
 the Eastern maiden. 
 
 'But methinks that face, shape, and eyes — ' said the 
 duke. ' When didst thou pass for a dancing fairy ? Some 
 such imp thou wert, not many days since.' 
 
 'My sister you may have seen — my twin sister; but 
 not me, my lord,' answered Zarah. 
 
 'Indeed,' said the duke, 'that dupHcate of thine, if it 
 was not thy very self, was possessed with a dumb spirit 
 as thou with a talking one. I am still in the mind that 
 you are the same ; and that Satan, always so powerful 
 with your sex, had art enough on our former meeting to 
 make thee hold thy tongue.' 
 
 'Believe what you will of it, my lord,' replied Zarah, 
 'it cannot change the truth. And now, my lord, I bid 
 you farewell. Have you any commands to Mauritania? ' 
 
 'Tarry a little, my princess,' said the duke; 'and re- 
 member, that you have voluntarily entered yourself as 
 pledge for another, and are justly subjected to any pen- 
 
 287
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 alty which it is my pleasure to exact. None must bravp 
 Buckingham with impunity.' 
 
 ' I am in no hurry to depart, if your Grace hath any 
 commands for me.' 
 
 'What! are you neither afraid of my resentment nor of 
 my love, fair Zarah? ' said the duke. 
 
 *0f neither, by this glove,' answered the lady. 'Your 
 resentment must be a petty passion indeed, if it could 
 stoop to such a helpless object as I am ; and for your love 
 — good lack ! good lack ! ' 
 
 'And why good lack, with such a tone of contempt, 
 lady? ' said the duke, piqued in spite of himself. ' Think 
 you Buckingham cannot love, or has never been beloved 
 in return? ' 
 
 'He may have thought himself beloved,' said the 
 maiden; 'but by what slight creatures! — things whose 
 heads could be rendered giddy by a playhouse rant, 
 whose brains were only filled with red-heeled shoes and 
 satin buskins, and who run altogether mad on the argu- 
 ment of a George and a star.' 
 
 'And are there no such frail fair ones in your climate, 
 most scornful princess? ' said the duke. 
 
 'There are,' said the lady; 'but men rate them as par- 
 rots and monkeys — things without either sense or soul, 
 head or heart. The nearness we bear to the sun has pur- 
 ified, while it strengthens, our passions. The icicles of 
 your frozen climate shall as soon hammer hot bars into 
 ploughshares as shall the foppery and folly of your pre- 
 tended gallantry make an instant's impression on a 
 breast like mine.' 
 
 'You speak like one who knows what passion is,' said 
 the duke. ' Sit down, fair lady, and grieve not that I de- 
 
 288
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 tain you. Who can consent to part with a tongue of so 
 much melody or an eye of such expressive eloquence! 
 You have known, then, what it is to love? ' 
 
 '1 know — no matter if by experience or through the 
 report of others — but I do know, that to love as I 
 would love would be to yield not an iota to avarice, not 
 one inch to vanity, not to sacrifice the slightest feeling 
 to interest or to ambition; but to give up all to fidelity 
 of heart and reciprocal affection.' 
 
 *And how many women, think you, are capable of 
 feeling such disinterested passion?' 
 
 'More, by thousands, than there are men who merit 
 it,' answered Zarah. 'Alas! how often do you see the 
 female, pale, and wretched, and degraded, still follow- 
 ing with patient constancy the footsteps of some pre- 
 dominating tyrant, and submitting to all his injustice 
 with the endurance of a faithful and misused spaniel, 
 which prizes a look from his master, though the surliest 
 groom that ever disgraced humanity, more than all the 
 pleasure which the world besides can furnish him? 
 Think what such would be to one who merited and re- 
 paid her devotion.' 
 
 'Perhaps the very reverse,' said the duke; 'and for 
 your simile, I can see little resemblance. I cannot charge 
 my spaniel with any perfidy; but for my mistresses — 
 to confess truth, I must always be in a cursed hurry if I 
 would have the credit of changing them before they 
 leave me.' 
 
 'And they serve you but rightly, my lord,' answered 
 the lady; 'for what are you? Nay, frown not; for you 
 must hear the truth for once. Nature has done its part, 
 and made a fair outside, and courtly education hath 
 
 28 289
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 added its share. You are noble, it is the accident 
 of birth; handsome, it is the caprice of nature; gen- 
 erous, because to give is more easy than to refuse; 
 well-apparelled, it is to the credit of your tailor; 
 well-natured in the main, because you have youth 
 and health; brave, because to be otherwise were to 
 be degraded; and witty, because you cannot help 
 it.' 
 
 The duke darted a glance on one of the large mirrors. 
 'Noble, and handsome, and court-like, generous, well- 
 attired, good-humoured, brave, and witty! You allow 
 me more, madam, than I have the slightest pretension 
 to, and surely enough to make my way, at some point 
 at least, to female favour.' 
 
 *I have neither allowed you a heart nor a head,' said 
 Zarah, calmly. 'Nay, never redden as if you would fly 
 at me. I say not but nature may have given you both; 
 but folly has confounded the one, and selfishness per- 
 verted the other. The man whom I call deserving the 
 name is one whose thoughts and exertions are for others 
 rather than himself, whose high purpose is adopted on 
 just principles, and never abandoned while Heaven or 
 earth affords means of accomplishing it. He is one who 
 will neither seek an indirect advantage by a specious 
 road nor take an evil path to gain a real good purpose. 
 Such a man were one for whom a woman's heart should 
 beat constant while he breathes, and break when he 
 dies.' 
 
 She spoke with so much energy that the water spar- 
 kled in her eyes, and her cheek coloured with the vehe- 
 mence of her feelings. 
 
 'You speak,' said the duke, 'as if you had yourself a 
 290
 
 PEVERn. OF THE PEAK 
 
 heart which could pay the full tribute to the merit which 
 you describe so warmly.' 
 
 'And have I not?' said she, laying her hand on her 
 bosom. 'Here beats one that would bear me out in what 
 I have said, whether in life or in death ! ' 
 
 'Were it in my power,' said the duke, who began to 
 get further interested in his visitor than he could at first 
 have thought possible — ' were it in my power to de- 
 serve such faithful attachment, methinks it should be 
 my care to requite it.' 
 
 'Your wealth, your titles, your reputation as a gal- 
 lant — all you possess were too little to merit such sin- 
 cere affection.' 
 
 'Come, fair lady,' said the duke, a good deal piqued, 
 'do not be quite so disdainful. Bethink you, that if your 
 love be as pure as coined gold, still a poor fellow like my- 
 self may offer you an equivalent in silver. The quantity 
 of my affection must make up for its quality.' 
 
 'But I am not carrying my affection to market, my 
 lord, and therefore I need none of the base coin you 
 offer in change for it.' 
 
 'How do I know that, my fairest?' said the duke. 
 'This is the realm of Paphos. You have invaded it, 
 with what purpose you best know ; but I think with none 
 consistent with your present assumption of cruelty. 
 Come — come, eyes that are so intelligent can laugh 
 with delight as well as gleam with scorn and anger. You 
 are here a waif on Cupid's manor, and I must seize on 
 you in name of the deity.' 
 
 'Do not think of touching me, my lord,' said the lady. 
 'Approach me not, if you would hope to learn of the 
 purpose of my being here. Your Grace may suppose 
 
 291
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 yourself a Solomon, if you please; but I am no travel- 
 ling princess, come from distant climes either to flatter 
 your pride or wonder at your glory.' 
 
 * A defiance, by Jupiter ! ' said the duke. 
 
 'You mistake the signal,' said the 'dark ladye'; 'I 
 came not here without taking suflBcient precautions for 
 my retreat.' 
 
 'You mouth it bravely,' said the duke; 'but never 
 fortress so boasted its resources but the garrison had 
 some thoughts of surrender. Thus I open the first 
 parallel.' 
 
 They had hitherto been divided from each other by 
 a long narrow table, which, placed in the recess of the 
 large casement we have mentioned, had formed a sort 
 of barrier on the lady's side against the adventurous 
 gallant. The duke went hastily to remove it as he spoke; 
 but, attentive to all his motions, his visitor instantly 
 darted through the half-open window. 
 
 Buckingham uttered a cry of horror and surprise, 
 having no doubt at first that she had precipitated her- 
 self from a height of at least fourteen feet, for so far the 
 window was distant from the ground. But when he 
 sprung to the spot, he perceived, to his astonishment, 
 that she had effected her descent with equal agility and 
 safety. 
 
 The outside of this stately mansion was decorated 
 with a quantity of carving, in the mixed state, betwixt 
 the Gothic and Grecian styles, which marks the age of 
 Elizabeth and her successor; and though the feat seemed 
 a surprising one, the projections of these ornaments 
 were sufficient to afford footing to a creature so light 
 and active, even in her hasty descent. 
 
 292
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Inflamed alike by mortification and curiosity, Buck- 
 ingham at fijst entertained some thought of following 
 her by the same dangerous route, and had actually got 
 upon the sill of the window for that purpose; and was 
 contemplating what might be his next safe movement, 
 when, from a neighbouring thicket of shrubs, amongst 
 which his visitor had disappeared, he heard her chant a 
 verse of a comic song, then much in fashion, concerning 
 a despairing lover who had recourse to a precipice — 
 
 'But when he came near, 
 
 Beholding how steep 
 The sides did appear, 
 
 And the bottom how deep; 
 Though his suit was rejected, 
 He sadly reflected, 
 That a lover forsaken 
 
 A new love may get; 
 But a neck that 's once broken 
 Can never be set.' 
 
 The duke could not help laughing, though much 
 against his will, at the resemblance which the verses 
 bore to his own absurd situation, and, stepping back 
 into the apartment, desisted from an attempt which 
 might have proved dangerous as well as ridiculous. He 
 called his attendants, and contented himself with watch- 
 ing the little thicket, unwilling to think that a female 
 who had thrown herself in a great measure into his way 
 meant absolutely to mortify him by a retreat. 
 
 That question was determined in an instant. A form, 
 wrapped in a mantle, with a slouched hat and shadowy 
 plume, issued from the bushes, and was lost in a mo- 
 ment amongst the ruins of ancient and of modern build- 
 ings with which, as we have already stated, the demesne 
 
 293
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 formerly termed York House was now encumbered in 
 all directions. 
 
 The duke's servants, who had obeyed his impatient 
 summons, were hastily directed to search for this tan- 
 talising siren in every direction. Their master, in the 
 mean time, eager and vehement in every pursuit, but 
 especially when his vanity was piqued, encouraged their 
 diligence by bribes, and threats, and commands. All 
 was in vain. They found nothing of the Mauritanian 
 princess, as she called herself, but the turban and the 
 veil; both of which she had left in the thicket, together 
 with her satin sHppers, which articles, doubtless, she had 
 thrown aside as she exchanged them for others less re- 
 markable. 
 
 Finding all his search in vain, the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, after the example of spoiled children of all ages 
 and stations, gave a loose to the frantic vehemence of 
 passion; and fiercely he swore vengeance on his late 
 visitor, whom he termed by a thousand opprobrious 
 epithets, of which the elegant phrase 'jilt' was most 
 frequently repeated. 
 
 Even Jerningham, who knew the depths and shal- 
 lows of his master's mood, and was bold to fathom them 
 at almost every state of his passions, kept out of his way 
 on the present occasion; and, cabineted with the pious 
 old housekeeper, declared to her, over a bottle of ratafia, 
 that, in his apprehension, if his Grace did not learn to 
 put some control on his temper, chains, darkness, straw, 
 and Bedlam would be the final doom of the gifted and 
 admired Duke of Buckingham.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Contentions fierce, 
 Ardent, and dire, spring from no petty cause. 
 
 Albion. 
 
 The quarrels between man and wife are proverbial; but 
 let not these honest folks think that connexions of a 
 less permanent nature are free from similar jars. The 
 frolic of the Duke of Buckingham, and the subsequent 
 escape of Alice Bridgenorth, had kindled fierce dissen- 
 sion in Chiffinch's family, when, on his arrival in town, 
 he learned these two stunning events. *I tell you,' he 
 said to his obliging helpmate, who seemed but little 
 moved by all that he could say on the subject, 'that 
 your d — d carelessness has ruined the work of years.' 
 
 *I think it is the twentieth time you have said so,' re- 
 pHed the dame; 'and without such frequent assurance, 
 I was quite ready to believe that a very trifling matter 
 would overset any scheme of yours, however long 
 thought of.' 
 
 * How on earth could you have the folly to let the duke 
 into the house when you expected the King?' said the 
 irritated courtier. 
 
 'Lord, Chiffinch,' answered the lady, 'ought not you 
 to ask the porter, rather than me, that sort of question? 
 I was putting on my cap to receive his Majesty.' 
 
 'With the address of a madge-howlet,' said Chiffinch, 
 'and in the meanwhile you gave the cat the cream to 
 keep.' 
 
 'Indeed, Chiffinch,' said the lady, 'these jaunts to the 
 
 295
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 country do render you excessively vulgar! There is a 
 brutality about your very boots! nay, your muslin ruf- 
 fles, being somewhat soiled, give to your knuckles a sort 
 of rural rusticity, as I may call it.' 
 
 'It were a good deed,' muttered ChifiSnch, 'to make 
 both boots and knuckles bang the folly and affectation 
 ooit of thee.' Then speaking aloud, he added, like a man 
 who would fain break off an argument, by extorting 
 from his adversary a confession that he has reason on his 
 side, ' I am sure, Kate, you must be sensible that our all 
 depends on his Majesty's pleasure.' 
 
 'Leave that to me,' said she; 'I know how to pleasure 
 his Majesty better than you can teach me. Do you 
 think his Majesty is booby enough to cry like a school- 
 boy because his sparrow has flown away? His Majesty 
 has better taste. I am surprised at you, Chiffinch,' she 
 added, drawing herself up, ' who were once thought to 
 know the points of a fime woman, that you should have 
 made such a roaring about this country wench. Why, 
 she has not even the country quality of being plump as 
 a barn-door fowl, but is more like a Dunstable lark, that 
 one must crack bones and all if you would make a mouth- 
 ful of it. What signifies whence she came, or where she 
 goes? There will be those behind that are much more 
 worthy of his Majesty's condescending attention, even 
 when the Duchess of Portsmouth takes the frumps.' 
 
 'You mean your neighbour, Mistress Nelly,' said her 
 worthy helpmate; 'but, Kate, her date is out. Wit she 
 has ; let her keep herself warm with it in worse company, 
 for the cant of a gang of strollers is not language for a 
 prince's chamber.'^ 
 
 * See Note 15. 
 296
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'It is no matter what I mean, or whom I mean/ said 
 Mrs. ChiflSnch; 'but I tell you, Tom Chiffinch, that you 
 will find your master quite consoled for loss of the piece 
 of prudish Puritanism that you would needs saddle him 
 with; as if the good man were not plagued enough with 
 them in Parliament, but you must, forsooth, bring them 
 into his very bedchamber.' 
 
 'Well, Kate,' said Chiffinch, 'if a man were to speak 
 all the sense of the seven wise masters, a woman would 
 find nonsense enough to overwhelm him with; so I shall 
 say no more, but that I would to Heaven I may find the 
 King in no worse humour than you describe him. I am 
 commanded to attend him down the river to the Tower 
 to-day, where he is to make some survey of arms and 
 stores. They are clever fellows who contrive to keep 
 Rowley from engaging in business, for, by my word, he 
 has a turn for it.' 
 
 *I warrant you,' said Chiffinch the female, nodding, 
 but rather to her own figure reflected from a mirror than 
 to her politic husband ^ — 'I warrant you we will find 
 means of occupying him that will sufficiently fill up his 
 time.' 
 
 'On my honour, Kate,' said the male Chiffinch, 'I find 
 you strangely altered, and, to speak truth, grown most 
 extremely opinionative. I shall be happy if you have 
 good reason for your confidence.' 
 
 The dame smiled superciliously, but deigned no other 
 answer, unless this were one — 'I shall order a boat to 
 go upon the Thames to-day with the royal party.' 
 
 'Take care what you do, Kate; there are none dare 
 presume so far but women of the first rank. Duchess of 
 Bolton, of Buckingham, of — ' 
 
 297
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'Who cares for a list of names? Why may not I be as 
 forward as the greatest B. amongst your string of them? ' 
 
 'Nay, faith, thou mayst match the greatest B. in 
 court already,' answered Chiffinch; 'so e'en take thy own 
 course of it. But do not let Chaubert forget to get some 
 collation ready, and a souper au petit convert, in case it 
 should be commanded for the evening.' 
 
 'Ay, there your boasted knowledge of court matters 
 begins and ends. Chiffinch, Chaubert, & Company; dis- 
 solve that partnership, and you break Tom Chiffinch for 
 a courtier.' 
 
 'Amen, Kate,' replied Chiffinch; 'and let me tell you, 
 it is as safe to rely on another person's fingers as on our 
 own wit. But I must give orders for the water. If you 
 will take the pinnace, there are the cloth-of-gold cush- 
 ions in the chapel may serve to cover the benches for the 
 day. They are never wanted where they lie, so you may 
 make free with them too.' 
 
 Madam Chiffinch accordingly mingled with the flo- 
 tilla which attended the King on his voyage down the 
 Thames, amongst whom was the Queen, attended by 
 some of the principal ladies of the court. The little 
 plump Cleopatra, dressed to as much advantage as her 
 taste could devise, and seated upon her embroidered 
 cushions like Venus in her shell, neglected nothing that 
 effrontery and minauderie could perform to draw upon 
 herself some portion of the King's observation; but 
 Charles was not in the vein, and did not even pay her 
 the slightest passing attention of any kind, until her 
 boatmen, having ventured to approach nearer to the 
 Queen's barge than etiquette permitted, received a 
 peremptory order to back their oars and fall out of the 
 
 298
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 royal procession. Madam Chifl&nch cried for spite, and 
 transgressed Solomon's warning by cursing the King 
 in her heart; but had no better course than to return 
 to Westminster and direct Chaubert's preparations for 
 the evening. 
 
 In the mean time, the royal barge paused at the Tower; 
 and, accompanied by a laughing train of ladies and of 
 courtiers, the gay monarch made the echoes of the old 
 prison-towers ring with the unwonted sounds of mirth 
 and revelry. As they ascended from the river-side to the 
 centre of the building, where the fine old keep of William 
 the Conqueror, called the White Tower, predominates 
 over the exterior defences, Heaven only knows how many 
 gallant jests, good or bad, were run on the comparison of 
 his Majesty's state-prison to that of Cupid, and what 
 killing similes were drawn between the ladies' eyes and 
 the guns of the fortress, which, spoken with a fashion- 
 able congee, and listened to with a smile from a fair lady, 
 formed the fine conversation of the day. 
 
 This gay swarm of flutterers did not, however, attend 
 close on the King's person, though they had accompan- 
 ied him upon his party on the river. Charles, who often 
 formed manly and sensible resolutions, though he was too 
 easily diverted from them by indolence or pleasure, had 
 some desire to make himself personally acquainted with 
 the state of the military stores, arms, etc., of which the 
 Tower was then, as now, the magazine; and, although he 
 had brought with him the usual number of his courtiers, 
 only three or four attended him on the scrutiny which he 
 intended. Whilst, therefore, the rest of the train amused 
 themselves as they might in other parts of the Tower, 
 the King, accompanied by the Dukes of Buckingham, 
 
 299
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Ormond, and one or two others, walked through the 
 well-known hall, in which is preserved the most splendid 
 magazine of arms in the world, and which, though far 
 from exhibiting its present extraordinary state of per- 
 fection, was even then an arsenal worthy of the great 
 nation to which it belonged. 
 
 The Duke of Ormond, well known for his services 
 during the Great Civil War, was, as we have elsewhere 
 noticed, at present rather on cold terms with his sov- 
 ereign, who nevertheless asked his advice on many occa- 
 sions, and who required it on the present amongst others, 
 when it was not a little feared that the Parliament, in 
 their zeal for the Protestant religion, might desire to 
 take the magazines of arms and ammunition under their 
 own exclusive orders. While Charles sadly hinted at 
 such a termination of the popular jealousies of the 
 period, and discussed with Ormond the means of resist- 
 ing or evading it, Buckingham, falling a little behind, 
 amused himself with ridiculing the antiquated appear- 
 ance and embarrassed demeanour of the old warder who 
 attended on the occasion, and who chanced to be the 
 very same that escorted Julian Peveril to his present 
 place of confinement. The duke prosecuted his raillery 
 with the greater activity, that he found the old man, 
 though restrained by the place and presence, was rather 
 upon the whole testy, and disposed to afford what sports- 
 men call play to his persecutor. The various pieces of 
 ancient armour with which the wall was covered afforded 
 the principal source of the duke's wit, as he insisted upon 
 knowing from the old man, who, he said, could best re- 
 member matters from the days of King Arthur down- 
 wards at the least, the history of the different warlike 
 
 300
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 weapons, and anecdotes of the battles in which they 
 had been wielded. The old man obviously suffered when 
 he was obliged, by repeated questions, to tell the legends 
 (often sufficiently absurd) which the tradition of the 
 place had assigned to particular relics. Far from flour- 
 ishing his partizan and augmenting the emphasis of his 
 voice, as was and is the prevailing fashion of these war- 
 like ciceroni, it was scarcely possible to extort from him a 
 single word concerning those topices on which their in- 
 formation is usually overflowing. 
 
 'Do you know, my friend,' said the duke to him at 
 last, ' I begin to change my mind respecting you? I sup- 
 posed you must have served as a Yeoman of the Guard 
 since bluff King Henry's time, and expected to hear 
 something from you about the Field of the Cloth of 
 Gold, and I thought of asking you the colour of Anne 
 Bullen's breast-knot, which cost the Pope three king- 
 doms; but I am afraid you are but a novice in such recol- 
 lections of love and chivalry. Art sure thou didst not 
 creep into thy warlike office from some dark shop in 
 the Tower-Hamlets, and that thou hast not converted 
 an unlawful measuring-yard into that glorious halberd? 
 I warrant, thou canst not even tell one whom this piece 
 of antique panoply pertained to?' 
 
 The duke pointed at random to a cuirass which hung 
 amongst others, but was rather remarkable from being 
 better cleaned. 
 
 'I should know that piece of iron,' said the warder, 
 bluntly, yet with some change in his voice ; * for I have 
 known a man withinside of it who would not have en- 
 dured half of the impertinence I have heard spoken to- 
 day.' 
 
 301 
 
 SMTI . • , IJJi
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The tone of the old man, as well as the words, attracted 
 the attention of Charles and the Duke of Ormond, who 
 were only two steps before the speaker. They both 
 stopped and turned round ; the former saying at the same 
 time, 'How now, sirrah! what answers are these? What 
 man do you speak of? ' 
 
 'Of one who is none now,' said the warder, 'whatever 
 he may have been.' 
 
 'The old man surely speaks of himself,' said the Duke 
 of Ormond, closely examining the countenance of the 
 warder, which he in vain endeavoured to turn away. 'I 
 am sure I remember these features. Are not you my old 
 friend, Major Coleby?' 
 
 'I wish your Grace's memory had been less accurate,' 
 said the old man, colouring deeply and fixing his eyes on 
 the ground. 
 
 The King was greatly shocked. ' Good God,' he said, 
 ' the gallant Major Coleby, who joined us with his four 
 sons and a hundred and fifty men at Warrington ! And 
 is this all we could do for an old Worcester friend?' 
 
 The tears rushed thick into the old man's eyes as he 
 said, in broken accents, 'Never mind me, sire; I am well 
 enough here — a worn-out soldier rusting among old 
 armour. Where one old Cavalier is better, there are 
 twenty worse. I am sorry your Majesty should know 
 anything of it, since it grieves you.' 
 
 With that kindness which was a redeeming point of 
 his character, Charles, while the old man was speaking, 
 took the partizan from him with his own hand, and put 
 it into that of Buckingham, saying, 'What Coleby's 
 hand has borne, can disgrace neither yours nor mine, and 
 you owe him this atonement. Time has been with him 
 
 302
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 that, for less provocation, he would have laid it about 
 your ears.' 
 
 The duke bowed deeply, but coloured with resent- 
 ment, and took an immediate opportunity to place the 
 weapon carelessly against a pile of arms. The King did 
 not observe a contemptuous motion, which, perhaps, 
 would not have pleased him, being at the moment occu- 
 pied with the veteran, whom he exhorted to lean upon 
 him, as he conveyed him to a seat, permitting no other 
 person to assist him. 'Rest there,' he said, 'my brave 
 old friend; and Charles Stuart must be poor indeed if 
 you wear that dress an hour longer. You look very pale, 
 my good Coleby, to have had so much colour a few min- 
 utes since. Be not vexed at what Buckingham says; 
 no one minds his folly. You look worse and worse. 
 Come — come, you are too much hurried by this meet- 
 ing. Sit still — do not rise — do not attempt to kneel. I 
 command you to repose yourself till I have made the 
 round of these apartments.' 
 
 The old Cavalier stooped his head in token of acqui- 
 escence in the command of his sovereign, but he raised 
 it not again. The tumultuous agitation of the moment 
 had been too much for spirits which had been long in a 
 state of depression, and health which was much decayed. 
 When the King and his attendants, after half an hour's 
 absence, returned to the spot where they had left the 
 veteran, they found him dead, and already cold, in the 
 attitude of one who has fallen easily asleep. The King 
 was dreadfully shocked; and it was with a low and falter- 
 ing voice that he directed the body, in due time, to be 
 honourably buried in the chapel of the Tower. ^ He was 
 
 ' A story of this nature is current in the legends of the Tower. Th3
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 then silent, until he attained the steps in front of the 
 arsenal, where the party in attendance upon his person 
 began to assemble at his approach, along with some 
 other persons of respectable appearance, whom curiosity 
 had attracted. 
 
 * This is dreadful,' said the King. 'We must find some 
 means of reUeving the distresses and rewarding the fidel- 
 ity of our suffering followers, or posterity will cry fie 
 upon our memory.' 
 
 'Your Majesty has had often such plans agitated in 
 your council,' said Buckingham. 
 
 'True, George,' said the King. 'I can safely say it is 
 not my fault. I have thought of it for years.' 
 
 ' It cannot be too well considered,' said Buckingham; 
 'besides, every year makes the task of relief easier.' 
 
 'True,' said the Duke of Ormond, 'by diminishing the 
 number of sufferers. Here is poor old Coleby will no 
 longer be a burden to the crown.' 
 
 'You are too severe, my Lord of Ormond,' said the 
 King, ' and should respect the feelings you trespass on. 
 You cannot suppose that we would have permitted this 
 poor man to hold such a situation had we known of the 
 circumstance? ' 
 
 'For God's sake, then, sire,' said the Duke of Ormond, 
 'turn your eyes, which have just rested on the corpse of 
 one old friend, upon the distresses of others. Here is the 
 valiant old Sir Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak, who fought 
 through the whole war, wherever blows were going, and 
 was the last man, I believe, in England who laid down 
 his arms ; here is his son, of whom I have the highest ac- 
 
 affecting circumstances are, I believe, recorded in one of the little man- 
 uals which are put into the hands of visitors, but are not to be found 
 in the later editions. 
 
 304
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 counts, as a gallant of spirit, accomplishments, and 
 courage; here is the unfortunate house of Derby — for 
 pity's sake, interfere in behalf of these victims, whom 
 the folds of this hydra-plot have entangled, in order to 
 crush them to death ; rebuke the fiends that are seeking 
 to devour their lives, and disappoint the harpies that are 
 gaping for their property. This very day seven-night 
 the unfortunate family, father and son, are to be brought 
 upon trial for crimes of which they are as guiltless, I 
 boldly pronounce, as any who stand in this presence. 
 For God's sake, sire, let us hope that, should the pre- 
 judices of the people condemn them , as it has done others, 
 you will at last step between the blood-hunters and 
 their prey.' 
 
 The King looked, as he really was, exceedingly per- 
 plexed. 
 
 Buckingham, between whom and Ormond there ex- 
 isted a constant and almost mortal quarrel, interfered to 
 efifect a diversion in Charles's favour. 'Your Majesty's 
 royal benevolence,' he said, 'needs never want exercise, 
 while the Duke of Ormond is near your person. He has 
 his sleeve cut in the old and ample fashion, that he may 
 always have store of ruined Cavaliers stowed in it to 
 produce at demand, rare old raw-boned boys, with Malm- 
 sey noses, bald heads, spindle shanks, and merciless his- 
 tories of Edgehill and Naseby.' 
 
 ' My sleeve is, I daresay, of an antique cut,' said Or- 
 mond, looking full at the duke ; ' but I pin neither bravoes 
 nor ruffians upon it, my Lord of Buckingham, as I see 
 fastened to coats of the new mode.' 
 
 'That is a little too sharp for our presence, my lord/ 
 said the King. 
 
 28 305
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'Not if I make my words good,' said Ormond. * My 
 Lord of Buckingham, will you name the man you spoke 
 to as you left the boat? ' 
 
 *I spoke to no one,' said the duke, hastily; 'nay, I 
 mistake, I remember a fellow whispered in my ear that 
 one who I thought had left London was still lingering 
 in town. A person whom I had business with.' 
 
 'Was yon the messenger?' said Ormond, singling out 
 from the crowd who stood in the courtyard a tall, dark- 
 looking man, mufHed in a large cloak, wearing a broad 
 shadowy black beaver hat, with a long sword of the 
 Spanish fashion; the very colonel, in short, whom Buck- 
 ingham had despatched in quest of Christian, with the 
 intention of detaining him in the country. 
 
 When Buckingham's eyes had followed the direction 
 of Ormond's finger, he could not help blushing so deeply 
 as to attract the King's attention.-^ 
 
 ' What new froHc is this, George? ' he said. ' Gentle- 
 men, bring that fellow forward. On my life, a truculent- 
 looking caitiff. Hark ye, friend, who are you? If an 
 honest man, nature has forgot to label it upon your coun- 
 tenance. Does none here know him? 
 
 With every symptom of a knave complete, 
 If he be honest, he's a devilish cheat.' 
 
 * He is well known to many, sire,' replied Ormond ; ' and 
 that he walks in this area with his neck safe and his 
 limbs unshackled is an instance, amongst many, that 
 we live under the sway of the most merciful prince of 
 Europe.' 
 
 'Odds-fish! who is the man, my lord duke?' said the 
 
 1 See Note i6. 
 306
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 King. 'Your Grace talks mysteries, Buckingham blushes, 
 and the rogue himself is dumb.' 
 
 'That honest gentleman, please your Majesty,' re- 
 plied the Duke of Ormond, 'whose modesty makes him 
 mute, though it cannot make him blush, is the notorious 
 Colonel Blood, as he calls himself, whose attempt to 
 possess himself of your Majesty's royal crown took 
 place at no very distant date in this very Tower of 
 London.' 
 
 'That exploit is not easily forgotten,' said the King; 
 * but that the fellow lives shows your Grace's clemency 
 as well as mine.' 
 
 'I cannot deny that I was in his hands, sire,' said Or- 
 mond, ' and had certainly been murdered by him, had he 
 chosen to take my life on the spot, instead of destining 
 me — I thank him for the honour — to be hanged at 
 Tyburn. I had certainly been sped, if he had thought 
 me worth knife or pistol, or anything short of the cord. 
 Look at him, sire! If the rascal dared, he would say at 
 this moment, like Caliban in the play, "Ho — ho, I 
 would I had done it! " ' 
 
 'Why, odds-fish!' answered the King, 'he hath a vil- 
 lainous sneer, my lord, which seems to say as much; but, 
 my lord duke, we have pardoned him, and so has your 
 Grace.' 
 
 'It would ill have become me,' said the Duke of Or- 
 mond, 'to have been severe in prosecuting an attempt 
 on my poor life, when your Majesty was pleased to re- 
 mit his more outrageous and insolent attempt upon your 
 royal crown. But I must conceive it as a piece of su- 
 preme insolence on the part of this bloodthirsty bully, 
 by whomsoever he may be now backed, to appear in the 
 
 307
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Tower, which was the theatre of one of his villainies, or 
 before me, who was wellnigh the victim of another.' 
 
 'It shall be amended in future,' said the King. 'Hark 
 ye, sirrah Blood, if you again presume to thrust yourself 
 in the way you have done but now, I will have the hang- 
 man's knife and your knavish ears made acquainted.' 
 
 Blood bowed, and, with a coolness of impudence which 
 did his nerves great honour, he said he had only come to 
 the Tower accidentally, to communicate with a particu- 
 lar friend on business of importance. ' My Lord Duke of 
 Buckingham,' he said, ' knew he had no other intentions.' 
 
 ' Get you gone, you scoundrelly cut-throat,' said the 
 duke, as much impatient of Colonel Blood's claim of 
 acquaintance as a town-rake of the low and blackguard 
 companions of his midnight rambles, when they accost 
 him in daylight amidst better company; 'if you dare to 
 quote my name again, I will have you thrown into the 
 Thames.' 
 
 Blood, thus repulsed, turned round with the most in- 
 solent composure and walked away down from the par- 
 ade, all men looking at him, as at some strange and mon- 
 strous prodigy, so much was he renowned for daring and 
 desperate villainy. Some even followed him, to have a 
 better survey of the notorious Colonel Blood, like the 
 smaller tribe of birds which keep fluttering round an owl 
 when he appears in the light of the sun. But as, in the 
 latter case, these thoughtless flutterers are careful to 
 keep out of reach of the beak and claws of the bird of 
 Minerva, so none of those who followed and gazed on 
 Blood as something ominous cared to bandy looks with 
 him, or to endure and return the lowering and deadly 
 glances which he shot from time to time on those who 
 
 308
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 pressed nearest to him. He stalked on in this manner, 
 like a daunted yet sullen woK, afraid to stop, yet unwill- 
 ing to fly, until he reached the Traitor's Gate, and get- 
 ting on board a sculler which waited for him, he disap- 
 peared from their eyes. 
 
 Charles would fain have obliterated all recollection 
 of his appearance by the observation, 'It were shame 
 that such a reprobate scoundrel should be the subject of 
 discord between two noblemen of distinction ' ; and he 
 recommended to the Dukes of Buckingham and Ormond 
 to join hands, and forget a misunderstanding which rose 
 on so unworthy a subject. 
 
 Buckingham answered carelessly, 'That the Duke of 
 Ormond's honoured white hairs were a sufficient apology 
 for his making the first overtures to a reconciliation,' and 
 he held out his hand accordingly. 
 
 But Ormond only bowed in return, and said, 'The 
 King had no cause to expect that the court would be dis- 
 turbed by his personal resentments, since time would 
 not yield him back twenty years, nor the grave restore 
 his gallant son Ossory. As to the ruffian who had in- 
 truded himself there, he was obHged to him, since, by 
 showing that his Majesty's clemency extended even to 
 the very worst of criminals, he strengthened his hopes of 
 obtaining the King's favour for such of his innocent 
 friends as were now in prison, and in danger, from the 
 odious charges brought against them on the score of the 
 Popish Plot.' 
 
 The King made no other answer to this insinuation 
 than by directing that the company should embark for 
 their return to Whitehall ; and thus took leave of the of- 
 ficers of the Tower who were in attendance with one of 
 
 309
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 those well-turned compliments to their discharge of duty 
 which no man knew better how to express; and issued at 
 the same time strict and anxious orders for protection 
 and defence of the important fortress confided to them, 
 and all which it contained. 
 
 Before he parted with Ormond on their arrival at 
 Whitehall, he turned round to him, as one who has made 
 up his resolution, and said, * Be satisfied, my lord duke, 
 our friends' case shall be looked to.' 
 
 In the same evening the Attorney-General, and North, 
 Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, had orders, 
 with all secrecy, to meet his Majesty that evening on 
 especial matters of state at the apartments of Chifl&nch, 
 the centre of all affairs, whether of gallantry or business.
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 Yet, Corah, thou shalt from oblivion pass; 
 Erect thyself, thou monumental brass, 
 High as the serpent of thy metal made. 
 While nations stand secure beneath thy shade I 
 
 Absalom and Achitophel. 
 
 The morning which Charles had spent in visiting the 
 Tower had been very differently employed by those un- 
 happy individuals whom their bad fate, and the singular 
 temper of the times, had made the innocent tenants of 
 that state prison, and who had received official notice 
 that they were to stand their trial in the Court of King's 
 Bench at Westminster on the seventh succeeding day. 
 The stout old Cavalier at first only railed at the officer 
 for spoiling his breakfast with the news, but evinced 
 great f eeHng when he was told that Julian was to be put 
 under the same indictment. 
 
 We intend to dwell only very generally on the nature 
 of their trial, which corresponded, in the outline, with 
 almost all those that took place during the prevalence of 
 the Popish Plot. That is, one or two infamous and per- 
 jured evidences, whose profession of common informers 
 had become frightfully lucrative, made oath to the pris- 
 oners' having expressed themselves interested in the 
 great confederacy of the Catholics. A number of others 
 brought forward facts or suspicions, affecting the char- 
 acter of the parties as honest Protestants and good sub- 
 jects; and betwixt the direct and presumptive evidence 
 enough was usually extracted for justifying, to a cor- 
 
 3"
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 rupted court and a perjured Jury, the fatal verdict of 
 'Guilty.' 
 
 The fury of the people had, however, now begun to 
 pass away, exhausted even by its own violence. The 
 English nation differ from all others, indeed even from 
 those of the sister kingdoms, in being very easily sated 
 with punishment, even when they suppose it most 
 merited. Other nations are Uke the tamed tiger, which, 
 when once its native appetite for slaughter is indulged 
 in one instance, rushes on in promiscuous ravages. But 
 the English public have always rather resembled what is 
 told of the sleuth-dog, which, eager, fierce, and clamor- 
 ous in pursuit of his prey, desists from it so soon as blood 
 is sprinkled upon his path. 
 
 Men's minds were now beginning to cool; the charac- 
 ter of the witnesses was more closely sifted, their testi- 
 monies did not in all cases tally, and a wholesome suspi- 
 cion began to be entertained of men who would never 
 say they had made a full discovery of all they knew, but 
 avowedly reserved some point of evidence to bear on 
 future trials. 
 
 The King also, who had lain passive during the first 
 burst of popular fury, was now beginning to bestir him- 
 self, which produced a marked effect on the conduct of 
 the crown counsel, and even the judges. Sir George 
 Wakeman had been acquitted in spite of Oates's direct 
 testimony; and public attention was strongly excited 
 concerning the event of the next trial, which chanced to 
 be that of the Peverils, father and son, with whom, I 
 know not from what concatenation, little Hudson the 
 dwarf was placed at the bar of the Court of King's 
 Bench. 
 
 312
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 It was a piteous sight to behold a father and son, who 
 had been so long separated, meet under circumstances so 
 melancholy ; and many tears were shed when the majes- 
 tic old man — for such he was, though now broken with 
 years — folded his son to his bosom, with a mixture of 
 joy, affection, and a bitter anticipation of the event of 
 the impending trial. There was a feeling in the court 
 that for a moment overcame every prejudice and party 
 feeling. Many spectators shed tears; and there was even 
 a low moaning, as of those who weep aloud. 
 
 Such as felt themselves sufficiently at ease to remark 
 the conduct of poor little Geoffrey Hudson, who was 
 scarcely observed amid the preponderating interest 
 created by his companions in misfortune, could not but 
 notice a strong degree of mortification on the part of that 
 diminutive gentleman. He had soothed his great mind 
 by the thoughts of playing the character which he was 
 called on to sustain in a manner which should be long 
 remembered in that place; and on his entrance had sa- 
 luted the numerous spectators, as well as the court, with 
 a cavalier air, which he meant should express grace, 
 high-breeding, perfect coolness, with a noble disregard 
 to the issue of their proceedings. But his little person 
 was so obscured and jostled aside, on the meeting of the 
 father and son, who had been brought in different boats 
 from the Tower and placed at the bar at the same mo- 
 ment, that his distress and his dignity were alike thrown 
 into the background, and attracted neither sympathy 
 nor admiration. 
 
 The dwarf's wisest way to attract attention would 
 have been to remain quiet, when so remarkable an ex- 
 terior would certainly have received in its turn the share 
 
 313
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of public notice which he so eagerly coveted. But when 
 did personal vanity listen to the suggestions of prudence? 
 Our impatient friend scrambled, with some difficulty, on 
 the top of the bench intended for his seat; and there, 
 'paining himself to stand a- tiptoe,' like Chaucer's gal- 
 lant Sir Chaunticlere, he challenged the notice of the 
 audience as he stood bowing and claiming acquaintance 
 of his namesake Sir Geoffrey the larger, with whose 
 shoulders, notwithstanding his elevated situation, he 
 was scarcely yet upon a level. 
 
 The taller knight, whose mind was occupied in a very 
 different manner, took no notice of these advances upon 
 the dwarf's part, but sat down with the determination 
 rather to die on the spot than evince any symptoms of 
 weakness before Roundheads and Presbyterians, under 
 which obnoxious epithets, being too old-fashioned to 
 find out party designations of a newer date, he 
 comprehended all persons concerned in his present 
 trouble. 
 
 By Sir Geoffrey the larger's change of position, his 
 face was thus brought on a level with that of Sir Geoffrey 
 the less, who had an opportunity of pulling him by the 
 cloak. He of Martindale Castle, rather mechanically 
 than consciously, turned his head towards the large 
 wrinkled visage, which, struggling between an assumed 
 air of easy importance and an anxious desire to be 
 noticed, was grimacing within a yard of him. But 
 neither the singular physiognomy, the nods and smiles 
 of greeting and recognition into which it was wreathed, 
 nor the strange little form by which it was supported, 
 had at that moment the power of exciting any recollec- 
 tions in the old knight's mind; and having stared for a 
 
 314
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 moment at the poor little man, his bulky namesake 
 turned away his head without further notice. 
 
 Julian Peveril, the dwarf's more recent acquaintance, 
 had, even amid his own anxious feelings, room for sym- 
 pathy with those of his little fellow-sufferer. As soon as 
 he discovered that he was at the same terrible bar with 
 himself, although he could not conceive how their 
 causes came to be conjoined, he acknowledged him by 
 a hearty shake of the hand, which the old man re- 
 turned with affected dignity and real gratitude. ' Wor- 
 thy youth,' he said, ' thy presence is restorative, like the 
 nepenthe of Homer, even in this syncope of our mutual 
 fate. I am concerned to see that your father hath not 
 the same alacrity of soul as that of ours, which are 
 lodged within smaller compass; and that he hath for- 
 gotten an ancient comrade and fellow-soldier, who now 
 stands beside him to perform, perhaps, their last cam- 
 paign.' 
 
 Julian briefly replied that his father had much to 
 occupy him. But the little man — who, to do him jus- 
 tice, cared no more (in his own phrase) for imminent 
 danger or death than he did for the puncture of a flea's 
 proboscis — did not so easily renounce the secret object 
 of his ambition, which was to acquire the notice of the 
 large and lofty Sir Geoffrey Peveril, who, being at least 
 three inches taller than his son, was in so far possessed 
 of that superior excellence which the poor dwarf, in his 
 secret soul, valued before all other distinctions, although, 
 in his conversation, he was constantly depreciating it. 
 * Good comrade and namesake,' he proceeded, stretching 
 out his hand so as again to reach the elder Peveril's 
 cloak, ' I forgive your want of reminiscence, seeing it is 
 
 31S
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 long since I saw you at Naseby, fighting as if you had as 
 many arms as the fabled Briareus.' 
 
 The knight of Martindale, who had again turned his 
 head towards the little man, and had listened, as if en- 
 deavouring to make something out of his discourse, here • , 
 interrupted him with a peevish ' Pshaw ! ' 
 
 'Pshaw!' repeated Sir Geoffrey the less. *" Pshaw" 
 is an expression of slight esteem — nay, of contempt — 
 in all languages; and were this a befitting place — ' 
 
 But the judges had now taken their places, the criers 
 called * Silence,' and the stern voice of the Lord Chief- 
 Justice, the notorious Scroggs, demanded what the ofii- 
 cers meant by permitting the accused to communicate 
 together in open court. 
 
 It may here be observed, that this celebrated person- 
 age was, upon the present occasion, at a great loss how 
 to proceed. A calm, dignified, judicial demeanour was at 
 no time the characteristic of his official conduct. He 
 always ranted and roared either on the one side or the 
 other; and of late he had been much unsettled which 
 side to take, being totally incapable of anything resem- 
 bhng impartiality. At the first trials for the Plot, when 
 the whole stream of popularity ran against the accused, 
 no one had been so loud as Scroggs; to attempt to im- 
 peach the character of Gates or Bedloe, or any other 
 leading witness, he treated as a crime more heinous than 
 it would have been to blaspheme the Gospel on which 
 they had been sworn; it was a stifling of the Plot, or dis- 
 crediting of the king's witnesses — a crime not greatly, 
 if at all, short of high treason against the king himself. 
 
 But of late a new light had begun to glimmer upon 
 the understanding of this interpreter of the laws. Saga- 
 
 316
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 cious in the signs of the times, he began to see that the 
 tide was turning; and that court favour at least, and 
 probably popular opinion also, were likely, in a short 
 time, to declare against the witnesses and in favour of 
 the accused. 
 
 The opinion which Scroggs had hitherto entertained 
 of the high respect in which Shaftesbury, the patron of 
 the Plot, was held by Charles had been definitively 
 shaken by a whisper from his brother North to the fol- 
 lowing effect: 'His lordship has no more interest at court 
 than your footman.' 
 
 This notice, from a sure hand, and received but that 
 morning, had put the judge to a sore dilemma; for, 
 however indifferent to actual consistency, he was most 
 anxious to save appearances. He could not but recollect 
 how violent he had been on former occasions in favour of 
 these prosecutions; and being sensible at the same time 
 that the credit of the witnesses, though shaken in the 
 opinion of the more judicious, was, amongst the bulk of 
 the people out of doors, as strong as ever, he had a diffi- 
 cult part to play. His conduct, therefore, during the 
 whole trial, resembled the appearance of a vessel about 
 to go upon another tack, when her sails are shivering in 
 the wind, ere they have yet caught the impulse which is 
 to send her forth in a new direction. In a word, he was 
 so uncertain which side it was his interest to favour, that 
 he might be said on that occasion to have come nearer 
 a state of total impartiality than he was ever capable 
 of attaining, whether before or afterwards. This was 
 shown by his bullying now the accused, and now the 
 witnesses, like a mastiff too much irritated to lie still 
 without baying, but uncertain whom he shall first bite. 
 
 317
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The indictment was then read ; and Sir Geoffrey Pev- 
 eril heard, with some composure, the first part of it, 
 which stated him to have placed his son in the household 
 of the Countess of Derby, a recusant Papist, for the 
 purpose of aiding the horrible and bloodthirsty Popish 
 Plot; with having had arms and ammunition concealed 
 in his house; and with receiving a blank commission 
 from the Lord Stafford, who had suffered death on ac- 
 count of the Plot. But when the charge went on to state 
 that he had communicated for the same purpose with 
 Geoffrey Hudson, sometimes called Sir Geoffrey Hud- 
 son, now, or formerly, in the domestic service of the 
 Queen Dowager, he looked at his companion as if he 
 suddenly recalled him to remembrance, and broke out 
 impatiently — ' These lies are too gross to require a 
 moment's consideration. I might have had enough of 
 intercourse, though in nothing but what was loyal and 
 innocent, with my noble kinsman, the late Lord Stafford 
 — I will call him so in spite of his misfortunes — and 
 with my wife's relation, the honourable Countess of 
 Derby; but what likelihood can there be that I should 
 have colleagued with a decrepit buffoon, with whom 
 I never had an instant's communication, save once at an 
 Easter feast, when I whistled a hornpipe, as he danced 
 on a trencher to amuse the company?' 
 
 The rage of the poor dwarf brought tears in his eyes, 
 while, with an affected laugh, he said that, instead of 
 those juvenile and festive passages. Sir Geoffrey Peveril 
 might have remembered his charging along with him at 
 Wiggan Lane. 
 
 'On my word,' said Sir Geoffrey, after a moment's 
 recollection, ' I will do you justice, Master Hudson — 
 
 318
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 I believe you were there; I think I heard you did good 
 service. But you will allow you might have been near 
 one without his seeing you.' 
 
 A sort of titter ran through the court at the simplic- 
 ity of the larger Sir Geoffrey's testimony, which the 
 dwarf endeavoured to control by standing on his tiptoes 
 and looking fiercely around, as if to admonish the laugh- 
 ers that they indulged their mirth at their own peril. 
 But perceiving that this only excited further scorn, he 
 composed himself into a semblance of careless contempt, 
 observing, with a smile, that no one feared the glance 
 of a chained lion — a magnificent simile, which rather in- 
 creased than diminished the mirth of those who heard it. 
 
 Against Julian Peverel there failed not to be charged 
 the aggravated fact, that he had been bearer of letters 
 between the Countess of Derby and other Papists and 
 priests, engaged in the universal, treasonable conspiracy 
 of the Catholics; and the attack of the house at Moul- 
 trassie Hall, with his skirmish with Chiffinch, and his 
 assault, as it was termed, on the person of John Jenkins, 
 servant of the Duke of Buckingham, were all narrated 
 at length, as so many open and overt acts of treasonable 
 import. To this charge Peveril contented himself with 
 pleading 'Not Guilty.' 
 
 His little companion was not satisfied with so simple 
 a plea; for when he heard it read, as a part of the charge 
 applying to him, that he had received from an agent of 
 the Plot a blank commission as colonel of a regiment of 
 grenadiers, he replied, in wrath and scorn, that if Go- 
 liath of Gath had come to him with such a proposal, and 
 proffered him the command of the whole sons of Anak in 
 a body, he should never have had occasion or oppor- 
 
 319
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tunity to repeat the temptation to another. 'I would 
 have slain him,' said the little man of loyalty, 'even 
 where he stood.' 
 
 The charge was stated anew by the counsel for the 
 crown ; and forth came the notorious Doctor Gates, rust- 
 ling in the full silken canonicals of priesthood, for it was 
 at a time when he affected no small dignity of exterior 
 decoration and deportment. 
 
 This singular man, who, aided by the obscure intri- 
 gues of the Catholics themselves, and the fortuitous 
 circumstance of Godfrey's murder, had been able to cram 
 down the public throat such a mass of absurdity as his 
 evidence amounts to, had no other talent for imposture 
 than an impudence which set conviction and shame alike 
 at defiance. A man of sense or reflection, by trying to 
 give his plot an appearance of more probability, would 
 most likely have failed, as wise men often do, in address- 
 ing the multitude, from not daring to calculate upon 
 the prodigious extent of their credulity, especially where 
 the fragments presented to them involve the fearful and 
 the terrible. 
 
 Gates was by nature choleric, and the credit he had 
 acquired made him insolent and conceited. Even his ex- 
 terior was portentous. A fleece of white periwig showed 
 a most uncouth visage, of great length, having the 
 mouth, as the organ by use of which he was to rise to 
 eminence, placed in the very centre of the countenance, 
 and exhibiting to the astonished spectator as much chin 
 below as there was nose and brow above the aperture. 
 His pronunciation, too, was after a conceited fashion of 
 his own, in which he accented the vowels in a manner 
 altogether peculiar to himself. 
 
 320
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 This notorious personage, such as we have described 
 him, stood forth on the present trial, and delivered his 
 astonishing testimony concerning the existence of a 
 Catholic plot for the subversion of the government and 
 murder of the King in the same general outline in which 
 it may be found in every English history. But as the doc- 
 tor always had in reserve some special piece of evidence 
 affecting those immediately on trial, he was pleased, on 
 the present occasion, deeply to inculpate the Countess 
 of Derby. 'He had seen,' as he said, 'that honourable 
 lady when he was at the Jesuits' College at St. Omer's. 
 She had sent for him to an inn, or auberge, as it was there 
 termed, the sign of the Golden Lamb, and had ordered 
 him to breakfast in the same room with her ladyship; 
 and afterwards told him that, knowing he was trusted 
 by the fathers of the society, she was determined that he 
 should have a share of her secrets also; and therewithal, 
 that she drew from her bosom a broad, sharp-pointed 
 knife, such as butchers kill sheep with, and demanded of 
 him what he thought of it for the purpose ; and when he, 
 the witness, said " For what purpose?" she rapt him on 
 the fingers with her fan, called him a dull fellow, and 
 said it was designed to kill the King with.' 
 
 Here Sir Geoffrey Peveril could no longer refrain his 
 indignation and surprise. 'Mercy of Heaven!' he said, 
 ' did ever one hear of ladies of quality carrying butcher- 
 ing knives about them, and telling every scurvy com- 
 panion she meant to kill the King with them? Gentle- 
 men of the jury, do but think if this is reasonable — 
 though, if the villain could prove by any honest evidence 
 that my lady of Derby ever let such a scum as himself 
 come to speech of her, I would believe all he can say.' 
 23 321
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'Sir GeoflFrey,' said the judge, 'rest you quiet. You 
 must not fly out: passion helps you not here; the doctor 
 must be suffered to proceed.' 
 
 Doctor Gates went on to state how the lady com- 
 plained of the wrongs the house of Derby had sustained 
 from the King, and the oppression of her religion, and 
 boasted of the schemes of the Jesuits and seminary 
 priests; and how they would be furthered by her noble 
 kinsmen of the house of Stanley. He finally averred 
 that both the countess and the fathers of the seminary 
 abroad founded much upon the talents and courage of 
 Sir Geoffrey Peveril and his son, the latter of whom 
 was a member of her family. Of Hudson he only recol- 
 lected of having heard one of the fathers say, ' that al- 
 though but a dwarf in stature, he would prove a giant 
 in the cause of the church.' 
 
 When he had ended his evidence, there was a pause, 
 until the judge, as if the thought had suddenly occurred 
 to him, demanded of Dr. Gates, whether he had ever 
 mentioned the name of the Countess of Derby in any 
 of the previous informations which he had lodged 
 before the privy council and elsewhere upon this 
 affair. 
 
 Gates seemed rather surprised at the question, and 
 coloured with anger as he answered, in his peculiar mode 
 of pronunciation, 'Whoy, no, maay laard.' 
 
 'And pray, doctor,' said the judge, 'how came so great 
 a revealer of mysteries as you have lately proved to have 
 suffered so material a circumstance as the accession of 
 this powerful family to the Plot to have remained undis- 
 covered?' 
 
 'Maay laard,' said Gates, with much effrontery, 'aye 
 322
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 do not come here to have my evidence questioned as 
 touching the Plaat.' 
 
 *I do not question your evidence, doctor,' said 
 Scroggs, for the time was not arrived that he dared treat 
 him roughly ; * nor do I doubt the existence of the ' ' Plaat, " 
 since it is your pleasure to swear to it. I would only 
 have you, for your own sake, and the satisfaction of all 
 good Protestants, to explain why you have kept back 
 such a weighty point of information from the King and 
 country.' 
 
 *Maay laard,' said Gates, 'I will tell you a pretty 
 fable.' 
 
 *I hope,' answered the judge, *it may be the first and 
 last which you shall tell in this place.' 
 
 ' Maay laard,' continued Gates, * there was once a faux, 
 who, having to caarry a goose aaver a frazen river, and 
 being afraid the aice would not bear him and his booty, 
 did caarry aaver a staane, maay laard, in the first in- 
 stance, to prove the strength of the aice.' 
 
 * So your former evidence was but the stone, and now, 
 for the first time, you have brought us the goose? ' said 
 Sir William Scroggs; 'to tell us this, doctor, is to make 
 geese of the court and jury.' 
 
 *I desoire your laardship's honest construction,' said 
 Gates, who saw the current changing against him, but 
 was determined to pay the score with effrontery. 'All 
 men knaw at what coast and praice I have given my 
 evidence, which has been always, under Gaad, the 
 means of awakening this poor naation to the dangerous 
 state in which it staunds. Many here knaw that I have 
 been obliged to faartify my ladging at Whitehall against 
 the bloody Papists. It was not to be thought that I 
 
 323
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 should have brought all the story out at aance. I think 
 your wisdom would have advised me otherwise.'^ 
 
 *Nay, doctor,' said the judge, 'it is not for me to di- 
 rect you in this affair; and it is for the jury to believe 
 you or not; and as for myself, I sit here to do justice to 
 both. The jury have heard your answer to my ques- 
 tion.' 
 
 Doctor Gates retired from the witness-box reddening 
 like a turkey-cock, as one totally unused to have such 
 accounts questioned as he chose to lay before the courts 
 of justice; and there was, perhaps for the first time, 
 amongst the counsel and solicitors, as well as the Tem- 
 plars and students of law there present, a murmur, dis- 
 tinct and audible, unfavourable to the character of the 
 great father of the Popish Plot. 
 
 Everett and Dangerfield, with whom the reader is al- 
 ready acquainted, were then called in succession to sus- 
 tain the accusation. They were subordinate informers 
 
 — a sort of underspur-leathers, as the cant term went 
 
 — who followed the path of Gates, with all deference to 
 his superior genius and invention, and made their own 
 fictions chime in and harmonise with his, as well as their 
 talents could devise. But as their evidence had at no 
 time received the full credence into which the impud- 
 ence of Gates had cajoled the public, so they now 
 began to fall into discredit rather more hastily than 
 their prototype, as the superadded turrets of an ill- 
 constructed building are naturally the first to give way. 
 
 It was in vain that Everett, with the precision of a 
 
 hypocrite, and Dangerfield, with the audacity of a bully, 
 
 narrated, with added circumstances of suspicion and 
 
 * See Note 17. 
 
 324
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 criminality, their meeting with Julian Peveril in Liver- 
 pool, and again at Martindale Castle. It was in vain 
 they described the arms and accountrements which they 
 pretended to have discovered in old Sir Geoffrey's pos- 
 sessions, and that they gave a most dreadful account of 
 the escape of the younger Peveril from Moultrassie Hall 
 by means of an armed force. 
 
 The jury listened coldly, and it was visible that they 
 were but little moved by the accusation, especially as the 
 judge, always professing his belief in the Plot and his zeal 
 for the Protestant religion, was ever and anon remind- 
 ing them that presumptions were no proofs, that hearsay 
 was no evidence, that those who made a trade of dis- 
 covery were likely to aid their researches by invention, 
 and that without doubting the guilt of the unfortunate 
 persons at the bar, he would gladly hear some evidence 
 brought against them of a different nature. 'Here we 
 are told of a riot, and an escape achieved by the younger 
 Peveril, at the house of a grave and worthy magistrate, 
 known, I think, to most of us. Why, Master Attorney, 
 bring ye not Master Bridgenorth himself to prove the 
 fact, or all his household, if it be necessary? A rising in 
 arms is an affair over public to be left on the hearsay 
 tale of these two men, though Heaven forbid that I 
 should suppose they speak one word more than they be- 
 lieve. They are the witnesses for the King, and, what 
 is equally dear to us, the Protestant religion, and wit- 
 nesses against a most foul and heathenish plot. On 
 the other hand, here is a worshipful old knight, for such 
 I must suppose him to be, since he has bled often in bat- 
 tle for the King — such, I must say, I suppose him to be, 
 until he is proved otherwise. And here is his son, a hope- 
 
 325.
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 f ul young gentleman — we must see that they have 
 right, Master Attorney.' 
 
 'Unquestionably, my lord/ answered the attorney. 
 * God forbid else ! But we will make out these matters 
 against these unhappy gentlemen in a manner more close, 
 if your lordship will permit us to bring in our evidence,' 
 
 'Go on. Master Attorney,' said the judge, throwing 
 himself back in his seat. 'Heaven forbid I hinder prov- 
 ing the King's accusation ! I only say, what you know 
 as well as I, that de non apparentibus etnon existentibus 
 eadem est ratio.' 
 
 'We shall then call Master Bridgenorth, as your lord- 
 ship advises, who I think is in waiting.' 
 
 'No!' answered a voice from the crowd, apparently 
 that of a female, 'he is too wise and too honest to be 
 here.' 
 
 The voice was distinct as that of Lady Fairfax, when 
 she expressed herself to a similar effect on the trial of 
 Charles the First; but the researches which were made 
 on the present occasion to discover the speaker were un- 
 successful. 
 
 After the slight confusion occasioned by this circum- 
 stance was abated, the attorney, who had been talking 
 aside with the conductors of the prosecution, said, 
 'Whoever favoured us with that information, my lord, 
 had good reason for what they said. Master Bridge- 
 north has become, I am told, suddenly invisible since 
 this morning.' 
 
 'Look you there now. Master Attorney,' said the 
 judge; 'this comes of not keeping the crown witnesses 
 together and in readiness. I am sure I cannot help the 
 consequences.' 
 
 326
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Nor I either, my lord,' said the attorney, pettishly. 
 
 * I could have proved by this worshipful gentleman, 
 Master Justice Bridgenorth, the ancient friendship be- 
 twixt this party, Sir Geoffrey Peveril, and the Countess 
 of Derby, of whose doings and intentions Doctor Gates 
 has given such a deliberate evidence. I could have 
 proved his having sheltered her in his castle against a 
 process of law, and rescued her, by force of arms, from 
 this very Justice Bridgenorth, not without actual vio- 
 lence. Moreover, I could have proved against young 
 Peveril the whole affray charged upon him by the same 
 worshipful evidence.' 
 
 Here the judge stuck his thumbs into his girdle, which 
 was a favorite attitude of his on such occasions, and 
 exclaimed, ' Pshaw ! — pshaw, Master Attorney ! Tell 
 me not that you could have proved this, and you could 
 have proved that, or that, or this. Prove what you will, 
 but let it be through the mouths of your evidence. Men 
 are not to be Ucked out of their lives by the rough side 
 of a lawyer's tongue.' 
 
 ' Nor is a foul plot to be smothered,' said the attorney, 
 
 * for all the haste your lordship is in. I cannot call Mas- 
 ter Chifiinch neither, as he is employed on the King's 
 especial affairs, as I am this instant certiorated from the 
 court at Whitehall.' 
 
 ' Produce the papers, then, Master Attorney, of 
 which this young man is said to be the bearer,' said 
 the judge. 
 
 ' They are before the privy council, my lord.' 
 
 ' Then why do you found on them here ? ' said the 
 judge. ' This is something like trifling with the court.' 
 
 'Since your lordship gives it that name,' said the 
 
 327
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 attorney, sitting down in a huff, 'you may manage the 
 cause as you will.' 
 
 'If you do not bring more evidence, I pray you to 
 charge the jury,' said the judge. 
 
 *I shall not take the trouble to do so,' said the 
 crown counsel. 'I see plainly how the matter is to 
 
 go.' 
 
 'Nay, but be better advised,' said Scroggs. 'Con- 
 sider, your case is but half proved respecting the two 
 Peverils, and doth not pinch on the little man at all, 
 saving that Doctor Gates said that he was in a certain 
 case to prove a giant, which seems no very probable 
 Popish miracle.' 
 
 This sally occasioned a laugh in the court, which the 
 attorney-general seemed to take in great dudgeon. 
 
 'Master Attorney,' said Gates, who always interfered 
 in the management of these lawsuits, 'this is a plain 
 and absolute giving away of the cause — I must needs 
 say it, a mere stoifiing of the Plaat.' 
 
 'Then the devil who bred it may blow wind into 
 it again, if he lists,' answered the attorney-general; 
 and, flinging down his brief, he left the court, as in 
 a huff with all who were concerned in the affair. 
 
 The judge having obtained silence, for a murmur arose 
 in the court when the counsel for the prosecution threw 
 up his brief, began to charge the jury, balancing, as he 
 had done throughout the whole day, the different opin- 
 ions by which he seemed alternately swayed. He pro- 
 tested on his salvation that he had no more doubt of the 
 existence of the horrid and damnable conspiracy called 
 the Popish Plot than he had of the treachery of Judas 
 Iscariot; and that he considered Gates as the instrument 
 
 328
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 under Providence of preserving the nation from all the 
 miseries of his Majesty's assassination, and of a second 
 St. Bartholomew, acted in the streets of London. But 
 then he stated it was the candid construction of the law 
 of England, that the worse the crime, the more strong 
 should be the evidence. Here was the case of accessories 
 tried, whilst their principal — for such he should call the 
 Countess of Derby — was unconvicted and at large ; 
 and for Doctor Gates, he had but spoke of matters which 
 personally applied to that noble lady, whose words, if 
 she used such in passion, touching aid which she ex- 
 pected in some treasonable matters from these Peverils, 
 and from her kinsmen, or her son's kinsmen, of the house 
 of Stanley, may have been but a burst of female resent- 
 ment — dulcis Amaryllidis ira, as the poet hath it. Who 
 knoweth but Doctor Gates did mistake — he being a 
 gentleman of a comely countenance and easy demeanour 
 ■ — this same rap with the fan as a chastisement for lack 
 of courage in the Catholic cause, when, peradventure, it 
 was otherwise meant, as Popish ladies will put, it is said, 
 such neophytes and youthful candidates for orders to 
 many severe trials. ' I speak these things jocularly,' said 
 the judge, * having no wish to stain the reputation either 
 of the honourable countess or the reverend doctor ; only 
 I think the bearing between them may have related to 
 something short of high treason. As for what the at- 
 torney-general hath set forth of rescues and force, and 
 I wot not what, sure I am that, in a civil country, when 
 such things happen, such things may be proved, and that 
 you and I, gentlemen, are not to take them for granted 
 gratuitously. Touching this other prisoner, this Galfri- 
 dus minimus, he must needs say,' he continued, *he 
 
 329
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 could not discover even a shadow of suspicion against 
 him. Was it to be thought so abortive a creature would 
 thrust himself into depths of pohcy, far less into strata- 
 gems of war? They had but to look at him to conclude 
 the contrary: the creature was, from his age, fitter for 
 the grave than a conspiracy, and by his size and appear- 
 ance, for the inside of a raree-show than the mysteries of 
 a plot.' 
 
 The dwarf here broke in upon the judge by force of 
 screaming, to assure him that he had been, simple as he 
 sat there, engaged in seven plots in Cromwell's time; 
 and, as he proudly added, with some of the tallest men 
 of England. The matchless look and air with which Sir 
 Geoffrey Hudson made this vaunt set all a-laughing, and 
 increased the ridicule with which the whole trial began 
 to be received ; so that it was amidst shaking sides and 
 watery eyes that a general verdict of ' Not Guilty ' was 
 pronounced, and the prisoners dismissed from the bar. 
 
 But a warmer sentiment awakened among those who 
 saw the father and son throw themselves into each 
 other's arms, and, after a hearty embrace, extend their 
 hands to their poor little companion in peril, who, like a 
 dog, when present at a similar scene, had at last suc- 
 ceeded, by stretching himself up to them and whimper- 
 ing at the same time, to secure to himself a portion of 
 their sympathy and gratulation. 
 
 Such was the singular termination of this trial. Charles 
 himself was desirous to have taken considerable credit 
 with the Duke of Ormond for the evasion of the law 
 which had been thus effected by his private connivance; 
 and was both surprised and mortified at the coldness 
 with which his Grace replied, that he was rejoiced at the 
 
 33° 
 
 H
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 poor gentlemen's safety, but would rather have had the 
 King redeem them like a prince, by his royal preroga- 
 tive of mercy, than that his judge should convey them 
 out of the power of the law, like a juggler with his cups 
 and balls.
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 On fair ground 
 I could beat forty of them! 
 
 Coriolanus. 
 
 It doubtless occurred to many that were present at the 
 trial we have described, that it was managed in a singu- 
 lar manner, and that the quarrel, which had the appear- 
 ance of having taken place between the court and the 
 crown counsel, might proceed from some private under- 
 standing betwixt them, the object of the miscarriage of 
 the accusation. Yet though such underhand dealing was 
 much suspected, the greater part of the audience, being 
 well educated and intelligent, had already suspected the 
 bubble of the Popish Plot, and were glad to see that 
 accusations, founded on what had already cost so 
 much blood, could be evaded in any way. But the 
 crowd, who waited in the Court of Requests, and in 
 the hall, and without doors, viewed in a very different 
 light the combination, as they interpreted it, between 
 the judge and the attorney-general for the escape of 
 the prisoners. 
 
 Gates, whom less provocation than he had that day 
 received often induced to behave Hke one frantic with 
 passion, threw himself amongst the crowd, and repeated 
 till he was hoarse, * Theay are stoifling the Plaat — 
 theay are straangling the Plaat ! My Laard Justice and 
 Maaster Attarney are in league to secure the escape of 
 the plaaters and Paapists ! ' 
 
 332
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'It is the device of the Papist whore of Portsmouth/ 
 said one. 
 
 * Of old Rowley himself,' said another. 
 
 * If he could be murdered by himself, why, hang those 
 that would hinder it!' exclaimed a third. 
 
 *He should be tried,' said a fourth, 'for conspiring his 
 own death, and hanged in terrorem.' 
 
 In the meanwhile, Sir Geoffrey, his son, and their 
 Httle companion left the hall, intending to go to Lady 
 Peveril's lodgings, which had been removed to Fleet 
 Street. She had been relieved from considerable incon- 
 venience, as Sir Geoffrey gave Julian hastily to under- 
 stand, by an angel, in the shape of a young friend, and 
 she now expected them doubtless with impatience. Hu- 
 manity, and some indistinct idea of having unintention- 
 ally hurt the feelings of the poor dwarf, induced the hon- 
 est Cavalier to ask this unprotected being to go with 
 them. * He knew Lady Peveril's lodgings were but small,' 
 he said ; * but it would be strange if there was not some 
 cupboard large enough to accommodate the little gentle- 
 man.' 
 
 The dwarf registered this well-meant remark in his 
 mind, to be the subject of a proper explanation, along 
 with the unhappy reminiscence of the trencher-hornpipe, 
 whenever time should permit an argument of such 
 nicety. 
 
 And thus they sallied from the hall, attracting general 
 observation, both from the circumstances in which they 
 had stood so lately and from their resemblance, as a wag 
 of the Inner Temple expressed it, to the three degrees of 
 comparison — large, lesser, least. But they had not 
 passed far along the street, when Julian perceived that 
 
 333
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 more malevolent passions than mere curiosity began 
 to actuate the crowd, which followed, and, as it were, 
 dogged, their motions. 
 
 'There go the Papist cut- throats, tantivy for Rome!' 
 said one fellow. 
 
 'Tantivy to Whitehall, you mean!' said another. 
 
 *Ah! the bloodthirsty villains!' cried a woman. 
 'Shame, one of them should be suffered to live, after 
 poor Sir Edmondsbury 's cruel murder ! ' 
 
 'Out upon the mealy-mouthed jury that turned out 
 the bloodhounds on an innocent town!' cried a fourth. 
 
 In short, the tumult thickened, and the word began 
 to pass among the more desperate, 'Lambe them, lads 
 — Lambe them ! ' a cant phrase of the time, derived 
 from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an astrologer and quack, 
 who was knocked on the head by the rabble in Charles 
 the First's time. 
 
 Julian began to be much alarmed at these symptoms 
 of violence, and regretted that they had not gone down 
 to the city by water. It was now too late to think of that 
 mode of retreating, and he therefore requested his fa- 
 ther in a whisper to walk steadily forward towards Char- 
 ing Cross, taking no notice of the insults which might 
 be cast upon them, while the steadiness of their pace and 
 appearance might prevent the rabble from resorting to 
 actual violence. The execution of this prudent resolu- 
 tion was prevented after they had passed the palace, by 
 the hasty disposition of the elder Sir Geoffrey, and the 
 no less choleric temper of Galfridus minimus, who had a 
 soul which spurned all odds, as well of numbers as of 
 size. 
 
 ' Now a murrain take the knaves, with their hallooing 
 
 334
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 and whooping,' said the larger knight; 'by this day, if I 
 could but light on a weapon, I would cudgel reason and 
 loyalty into some of their carcasses ! ' 
 
 'And I also,' said the dwarf, who was toiling to keep 
 up with the longer strides of his companions, and there- 
 fore spoke in a very phthisical tone — * I also will 
 cudgel the plebeian knaves beyond measure — he — ! 
 hem!' 
 
 Among the crowd who thronged around them, im- 
 peded, and did all but assault them, was a mischievous 
 shoemaker's apprentice, who, hearing this unlucky 
 vaunt of the valorous dwarf, repaid it by flapping him 
 on the head with a boot which he was carrying home to 
 the owner, so as to knock the little gentleman's hat over 
 his eyes. The dwarf, thus rendered unable to discover 
 the urchin that had given him the offence, flew with in- 
 stinctive ambition against the biggest fellow in the 
 crowd, who received the onset with a kick on the stom- 
 ach, which made the poor little champion reel back to 
 his companions. They were now assaulted on all sides; 
 but fortune, complying with the wish of Sir Geoffrey the 
 larger, ordained that the scuffle should happen near the 
 booth of a cutler, from amongst whose wares, as they 
 stood exposed to the public. Sir Geoffrey Peveril 
 snatched a broadsword, which he brandished with the 
 formidable address of one who had for many a day been 
 in the familiar practice of using such a weapon. Julian, 
 while at the same time he called loudly for a peace- 
 officer, and reminded the assailants that they were 
 attacking inoffensive passengers, saw nothing better for 
 it than to imitate his father's example, and seized also 
 one of the weapons thus opportunely offered. 
 
 335
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 When they displayed these demonstrations of de- 
 fence, the rush which the rabble at first made towards 
 them was so great as to throw down the unfortunate 
 dwarf, who would have been trampled to death in the 
 scuffle, had not his stout old namesake cleared the rascal 
 crowd from about him with a few flourishes of his wea- 
 pon, and, seizing on the fallen champion, put him out of 
 danger (except from missiles) by suddenly placing him 
 on the bulk-head, that is to say, the flat wooden roof, of 
 the cutler's projecting booth. From the rusty ironware 
 which was displayed there, the dwarf instantly snatched 
 an old rapier and target, and, covering himself with the 
 one, stood making passes with the other at the faces and 
 eyes of the people in the street, so much delighted with 
 his post of vantage, that he called loudly to his friends, 
 who were skirmishing with the rioters on more equal 
 terms as to position, to lose no time in putting them- 
 selves under his protection. But, far from being in a situ- 
 ation to need his assistance, the father and son might 
 easily have extricated themselves from the rabble by 
 their own exertions, could they have thought of leaving 
 the mannikin in the forlorn situation, in which, to every 
 eye but his own, he stood like a diminutive puppet, 
 tricked out with sword and target as a fencing-master's 
 sign. 
 
 Stones and sticks began now to fly very thick, and the 
 crowd, notwithstanding the exertions of the Peverils to 
 disperse them with as little harm as possible, seemed 
 determined on mischief, when some gentlemen who had 
 been at the trial, understanding that the prisoners who 
 had just been acquitted were in danger of being mur- 
 dered by the populace, drew their swords and made for- 
 
 336
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ward to effect their rescue, which was completed by a 
 small party of the King's Life Guards, who had been 
 despatched from their ordinary post of alarm upon in- 
 telligence of what was passing. When this unexpected 
 reinforcement arrived, the old jolly knight at once 
 recognised, amidst the cries of those who then entered 
 upon action, some of the sounds which had animated his 
 more active years. 
 
 'Where be these cuckoldly Roundheads?' cried some. 
 'Down with the sneaking knaves!' cried others. 'The 
 King and his friends, and the devil a one else ! ' exclaimed 
 a third set, with more oaths and 'd — n me's ' than, in 
 the present more correct age, it is necessary to commit 
 to paper. 
 
 The old soldier, pricking up his ears like an ancient 
 hunter at the cry of the hounds, would gladly have 
 scoured the Strand with the charitable purpose, now he 
 saw himself so well supported, of knocking the London 
 knaves who had insulted him into twiggen bottles; but 
 he was withheld by the prudence of Julian, who, though 
 himself extremely irritated by the unprovoked ill-usage 
 which they had received, saw himself in a situation in 
 which it was necessary to exercise more caution than 
 vengeance. He prayed and pressed his father to seek 
 some temporary place of retreat from the fury of the 
 populace, while that prudent measure was yet in their 
 power. The subaltern officer who commanded the party 
 of the Life Guards exhorted the old Cavalier eagerly to 
 the same sage counsel, using, as a spice of compulsion, 
 the name of the King, while Julian strongly urged that 
 of his mother. The old knight looked at his blade, crim- 
 soned with cross-cuts and slashes which he had given to 
 
 28 337
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the most forward of the assailants, with the eye of one 
 
 not half sufficed. 
 
 'I would I had pinked one of the knaves at least; but 
 I know not how it was, when I looked at their broad, 
 round Enghsh faces, I shunned to use my point, and 
 only sliced the rogues a httle.' 
 
 *But the King's pleasure,' said the ofl&cer, *is, that no 
 tumult be prosecuted.' 
 
 *My mother,' said Julian, 'will die with fright if the 
 rumour of this scuffle reaches her ere we see her.' 
 
 *Ay — ay,' said the knight, 'the King's Majesty, and 
 my good dame — well, their pleasure be done, that 's all 
 I can say. Kings and ladies must be obeyed. But which 
 way to retreat, since retreat we needs must? ' 
 
 Julian would have been at some loss to advise what 
 course to take, for everybody in the vicinity had shut 
 up their shops and chained their doors, upon observing 
 the confusion become so formidable. The poor cutler, 
 however, with whose goods they made so free, offered 
 them an asylum on the part of his landlord, whose house 
 served as a rest for his shop, and only intimated gently, 
 he hoped the gentlemen would consider him for the use 
 of his weapons. 
 
 Julian was hastily revolving whether they ought, in 
 prudence, to accept this man's invitation, aware, by ex- 
 perience, how many trepans, as they were then termed, 
 were used betwixt two contending factions, each too in- 
 veterate to be very scrupulous of the character of fair 
 play to an enemy, when the dwarf, exerting his cracked 
 voice to the uttermost, and shrieking like an exhausted 
 herald from the exalted station which he still occupied 
 on the bulk-head, exhorted them to accept the offer of the 
 
 338
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 worthy man of the mansion. 'He himself,' he said, as he 
 reposed himself after the glorious conquest in which he 
 had some share, ' had been favoured with a beatific vis- 
 ion, too splendid to be described to common and mere 
 mortal ears, but which had commanded him, in a voice 
 to which his heart had bounded as to a trumpet sound, 
 to take refuge with the worthy person of the house, and 
 cause his friends to do so.' 
 
 * Vision ! ' said the knight of the Peak — ' sound of a 
 trumpet! the little man is stark mad.' 
 
 But the cutler, in great haste, intimated to them that 
 their little friend had received an intimation from a gen- 
 tlewoman of his acquaintance, who spoke to him from 
 the window, while he stood on the bulk-head, that they 
 would find a safe retreat in his landlord's; and, desiring 
 them to attend to two or three deep though distant 
 huzzas, made them aware that the rabble were up still, 
 and would soon be upon them with renewed violence 
 and increased numbers. 
 
 The father and son, therefore, hastily thanked the 
 officer and his party, as well as the other gentlemen who 
 had volunteered in their assistance, lifted Httle Sir 
 Geoffrey Hudson from the conspicuous post which he 
 had so creditably occupied during the skirmish, and fol- 
 lowed the footsteps of the tenant of the booth, who con- 
 ducted them down a blind alley, and through one or two 
 courts, in case, as he said, any one might have watched 
 where they burrowed, and so into a back door. This 
 entrance admitted them to a staircase carefully hung 
 with straw mats to exclude damp, from the upper step of 
 which they entered upon a tolerably large withdrawing- 
 room, hung with coarse green serge edged with gilded 
 
 339
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 leather, which the poorer or more economical citizens 
 at that time used instead of tapestry or wainscot- 
 ing. 
 
 Here the poor cutler received from Julian such a grat- 
 uity for the loan of the swords that he generously aban- 
 doned the property to the gentlemen who had used them 
 so well; 'the rather,' he said, 'that he saw, by the way 
 they handled their weapons, that they were men of 
 mettle and tall fellows.' 
 
 Here the dwarf smiled on him courteously, and bowed, 
 thrusting, at the same time, his hand into his pocket, 
 which, however, he withdrew carelessly, probably be- 
 cause he found he had not the means of making the small 
 donation which he had meditated. 
 
 The cutler proceeded to say, as he bowed and was 
 about to withdraw, that he saw there would be merry 
 days yet in Old England, and that Bilboa blades would 
 fetch as good a price as ever. 'I remember,' he said, 
 * gentlemen, though I was then but a 'prentice, the de- 
 mand for weapons in the years forty-one and forty- two: 
 sword blades were more in request than toothpicks, and 
 Old Ironsides, my master, took more for rascally prov- 
 ant rapiers than I dare ask nowadays for a Toledo. But, 
 to be sure, a man's life then rested on the blade he car- 
 ried ; the Cavaliers and Roimdheads fought every day at 
 the gates of Whitehall, as it is like, gentlemen, by your 
 good example, they may do again, when I shall be en- 
 abled to leave my pitiful booth and open a shop of better 
 quality. I hope you will recommend me, gentlemen, to 
 your friends. I am always provided with ware which a 
 gentleman may risk his hfe on.' 
 
 'Thank you, good friend,' said Julian; 'I prithee be- 
 
 340
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 gone. I trust we shall need thy ware no more for some 
 time at least.' 
 
 The cutler retired, while the dwarf hallooed after him 
 downstairs, that * He would call on him soon, and equip 
 himself with a longer blade, and one more proper for 
 action; although,' he said, 'the little weapon he had did 
 well enough for a walking-sword, or in a skirmish with 
 such canaille as they had been engaged with.' 
 
 The cutler returned at this summons, and agreed to 
 pleasure the little man with a weapon more suitable 
 to his magnanimity; then, as if the thought had suddenly 
 occurred to him, he said, 'But, gentlemen, it will be but 
 wild work to walk with your naked swords through the 
 Strand, and it can scarce fail to raise the rabble again. 
 If you please, while you repose yourselves here, I can fit 
 the blades with sheaths.' 
 
 The proposal seemed so reasonable that Julian and his 
 father gave up their weapons to the friendly cutler, an 
 example which the dwarf followed, after a moment's 
 hesitation, not caring, as he magnificently expressed it, 
 to part so soon with the trusty friend which fortune had 
 but the moment before restored to his hand. The man 
 retired with the weapons under his arm ; and, in shutting 
 the door behind him, they heard him turn the key. 
 
 'Did you hear that? ' said Sir Geoffrey to his son, * and 
 we are disarmed ! ' 
 
 Julian, without reply, examined the door, which was 
 fast secured; and then looked at the casements, which 
 were at a story's height from the ground, and grated 
 besides with iron. 'I cannot think,' he said, after a mo- 
 ment's pause, 'that the fellow means to trepan us; and, 
 in any event, I trust we should have no difficulty in 
 
 341
 
 If 
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 forcing the door, or otherwise making an escape. But, 
 before resorting to such violent measures, I think it is 
 better to give the rabble leisure to disperse, by waiting 
 this man's return with our weapons within a reasonable 
 time, when, if he does not appear, I trust we shall find 
 little difficulty in extricating ourselves.' As he spoke 
 thus, the hangings were pulled aside, and, from a small 
 door which was concealed behind them, Major Bridge- 
 north entered the room. 

 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 He came amongst them like a new raised spirit, 
 To speak of dreadful judgments that impend, 
 And of the wrath to come. 
 
 The Reformer. 
 
 The astonishment of Julian at the unexpected appari- 
 tion of Bridgenorth was instantly succeeded by appre- 
 hension of his father's violence, which he had every rea- 
 son to believe would break forth against one whom he 
 himself could not but reverence on account of his own 
 merits, as well as because he was the father of Alice. 
 The appearance of Bridgenorth was not, however, such 
 as to awaken resentment. His coimtenance was calm, 
 his step slow and composed, his eye not without the 
 indication of some deep-seated anxiety, but without any 
 expression either of anger or of triumph. *You are wel- 
 come/ he said, 'Sir Geoffrey Peveril, to the shelter and 
 hospitaUty of this house — as welcome as you would 
 have been in other days, when we called each other 
 neighbours and friends.' 
 
 'Odzooks,' said the old Cavalier, 'and had I known it 
 was thy house, man, I would sooner had my heart's 
 blood run down the kennel than my foot should have 
 crossed your threshold — in the way of seeking safety, 
 that is.' 
 
 *I forgive your inveteracy,' said Major Bridgenorth, 
 *on accoimt of your prejudices.' 
 
 'Keep your forgiveness,' answered the Cavalier, 'until 
 you are pardoned yourself. By St. George, I have sworn, 
 
 343
 
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 if ever I got my heels out of yon rascally prison, whither 
 I was sent much through your means, Master Bridge- 
 north, that you should pay the reckoning for my bad 
 lodging. I will strike no man in his own house ; but if you 
 will cause the fellow to bring back my weapon, and take 
 a turn in that blind court there below along with me, you 
 shall soon see what chance a traitor hath with a true 
 man, and a kennel-blooded Puritan with Peveril of the 
 Peak.' 
 
 Bridgenorth smiled with much composure. 'When 
 I was younger and more warm-blooded,' he replied, *I 
 refused your challenge. Sir Geoffrey; it is not Hkely I 
 should now accept it, when each is within a stride of the 
 grave. I have not spared, and will not spare, my blood 
 when my country wants it.' 
 
 'That is, when there is any chance of treason against 
 the King,' said Sir Geoffrey. 
 
 'Nay, my father,' said Julian, 'let us hear Master 
 Bridgenorth! We have been sheltered in his house; and 
 although we now see him in London, we should remem- 
 ber that he did not appear against us this day, when 
 perhaps his evidence might have given a fatal turn to ^ 
 our situation.' "^H 
 
 'You are right, young man,' said Bridgenorth; 'and it 
 should be some pledge of my sincere good-will that I was 
 this day absent from Westminster, when a few words 
 from my mouth had ended the long line of Peveril of the 
 Peak. It needed but ten minutes to walk to Westmin- 
 ster Hall, to have ensured your condemnation. But 
 could I have done this, knowing, as I now know, that to 
 thee, Julian Peveril, I owe the extrication of my daugh- 
 ter — of my dearest Ahce — the memory of her departed 
 
 344
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 mother — from the snares which hell and profligacy had 
 opened around her? ' 
 
 ' She is, I trust, safe,' said Peveril, eagerly, and almost 
 forgetting his father's presence — ' she is, I trust, safe, 
 and in your own wardship? ' 
 
 'Not in mine,' said the dejected father; 'but in that 
 of one in whose protection, next to that of Heaven, I 
 can most fully confide.' 
 
 'Are you sure — are you very sure of that?' repeated 
 Julian, eagerly. 'I found her under the charge of one to 
 whom she had been trusted, and who yet — ' 
 
 'And who yet was the basest of women,' answered 
 Bridgenorth; 'but he who selected her for the charge 
 was deceived in her character.' 
 
 'Say rather you were deceived in his; remember that 
 when we parted at Moultrassie I warned you of that 
 Ganlesse — that — ' 
 
 'I know your meaning,' said Bridgenorth; 'nor did 
 you err in describing him as a worldly-wise man. But he 
 has atoned for his error by recovering Alice from the 
 dangers into which she was plunged when separated 
 from you ; and besides, I have not thought meet again to 
 entrust him with the charge that is dearest to me.' 
 
 'I thank God your eyes are thus far opened!' said 
 Julian. 
 
 'This day will open them wide, or close them for ever,' 
 answered Bridgenorth. 
 
 During this dialogue, which the speakers hurried 
 through without attending to the others who were 
 present, Sir Geoffrey listened with surprise and eager- 
 ness, endeavouring to catch something which should 
 render their conversation intelligible; but as he totally 
 
 345
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 failed in gaining any such key to their meaning, he broke 
 in with — ' 'Sblood and thunder, Julian, what unprofit- 
 able gossip is this? What hast thou to do with this fel- 
 low, more than to bastinado him, if you should think it 
 worth while to beat so old a rogue?' 
 
 'My dearest father,' said JuUan, 'you know not this 
 gentleman; I am certain you do him injustice. My own 
 obligations to him are many; and I am sure when you 
 come to know them — ' 
 
 'I hope I shall die ere that moment come,' said Sir 
 Geoffrey ; and continued with increasing violence — ' I 
 hope, in the mercy of Heaven, that I shall be in the 
 grave of my ancestors, ere I learn that my son — my 
 only son — the last hope of my ancient house — the last 
 remnant of the name of Peveril — hath consented to 
 receive obligations from the man on earth I am most 
 bound to hate, were I not still more bound to contemn 
 him ! Degenerate dog-whelp ! ' he repeated with great 
 vehemence, 'you colour, without replying! Speak, and 
 disown such disgrace, or, by the God of my fathers — ' 
 
 The dwarf suddenly stepped forward and called out, 
 * Forbear ! ' with a voice at once so discordant and com- 
 manding that it sounded supernatural. 'Man of sin and 
 pride,' he said, 'forbear; and call not the name of a holy 
 God to witness thine unhallowed resentments.' 
 
 The rebiike so boldly and decidedly given, and the 
 moral enthusiasm with which he spoke, gave the de- 
 spised dwarf an ascendency for the moment over the 
 fiery spirit of his gigantic namesake. Sir Geoffrey Pev- 
 eril eyed him for an instant askance and shyly, as he 
 might have done a supernatural apparition, and then 
 muttered, 'What knowest thou of my cause of wrath?' 
 
 346
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Nothing/ said the dwarf — 'nothing but this, that 
 no cause can warrant the oath thou wert about to swear. 
 Ungrateful man ! thou wert to-day rescued from the de- 
 vouring wrath of the wicked by a marvellous conjunc- 
 tion of circumstances. Is this a day, thinkest thou, on 
 which to indulge thine own hasty resentments? ' 
 
 *I stand rebuked,' said Sir Geoffrey, 'and by a singu- 
 lar monitor: the grasshopper, as the Prayer Book saith, 
 hath become a burden to me. Julian, I will speak to thee 
 of these matters hereafter. And for you, Master Bridge- 
 north, I desire to have no further communication with 
 you, either in peace or in anger. Our time passes fast, 
 and I would fain return to my family. Cause our weap- 
 ons to be restored; unbar the doors, and let us part 
 without further altercation, which can but disturb and 
 aggravate our spirits.' 
 
 'Sir Geoffrey Peveril,' said Bridgenorth, 'I have no 
 desire to vex your spirit or my own; but, for thus soon 
 dismissing you, that may hardly be, it being a course 
 inconsistent with the work which I have on hand.' 
 
 'How, sir! Do you mean that we should abide here, 
 whether with or against our inclinations?' said the 
 dwarf. 'Were it not that I am laid imder charge to re- 
 main here by one who hath the best right to command 
 this poor microcosm, I would show thee that bolts and 
 bars are imavaihng restraints on such as I am.' 
 
 'Truly,' said Sir Geoffrey, 'I think, upon an emerg- 
 ency, the little man might make his escape through the 
 keyhole.' 
 
 Bridgenorth's face was moved into something hke a 
 smile at the swaggering speech of the pigmy hero and the 
 contemptuous commentary of Sir Geoffrey Peveril; but 
 
 347
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 such an expression never dwelt on his features for two 
 seconds together, and he repKed in these words: ' Gentle- 
 men, each and all of you must be fain to content your- 
 selves. Believe me, no hurt is intended towards you; on 
 the contrary, your remaining here will be a means of 
 securing your safety, which would be otherwise deeply 
 endangered. It will be your own fault if a hair of your 
 heads is hurt. But the stronger force is on my side; and, 
 whatever harm you may meet with, should you attempt 
 to break forth by violence, the blame must rest with 
 yourselves. If you will not believe me, I will permit 
 Master Julian Peveril to accompany me where he shall 
 see that I am provided fully with the means of repressing 
 violence.' 
 
 ' Treason ! — treason ! ' exclaimed the old knight — 
 * treason against God and King Charles! O for one half 
 hour of the broadsword which I parted with like an 
 ass!' 
 
 'Hold, my father, I conjure you! ' said Julian. 'I will 
 go with Master Bridgenorth, since he requests it. I will 
 satisfy myself whether there be danger, and of what 
 nature. It is possible I may prevail on him to desist from 
 some desperate measure, if such be indeed in agitation. 
 Should it be necessary, fear not that your son will be- 
 have as he ought to do.' 
 
 *Do your pleasure, Julian,' said his father; 'I will 
 confide in thee. But if you betray my confidence, a 
 father's curse shall cleave to you.' 
 
 Bridgenorth now motioned to Peveril to follow him, 
 and they passed through the small door by which he had 
 entered. 
 
 The passage led to a vestibule or ante-room, in which 
 
 348
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 several other doors and passages seemed to centre. 
 Through one of these Julian was conducted by Bridge- 
 north, walking with silence and precaution in obedience 
 to a signal made by his guide to that effect. As they 
 advanced, he heard soimds, Hke those of the human 
 voice, engaged in urgent and emphatic declamation. 
 With slow and light steps Bridgenorth conducted him 
 through a door which terminated this passage ; and as he 
 entered a Httle gallery, having a curtain in front, the 
 sound of the preacher's voice — for such it now seemed 
 — became distinct and audible. 
 
 Julian now doubted not that he was in one of those 
 conventicles which, though contrary to the existing 
 laws, still continued to be regularly held in different 
 parts of London and the suburbs. Many of these, as 
 frequented by persons of moderate political principles, 
 though dissenters from the church for conscience' sake, 
 were connived at by the prudence or timidity of the 
 government. But some of them, in which assembled the 
 fiercer and more exalted sects of Independents, Ana- 
 baptists, Fifth Monarchy men, and other sectaries, 
 whose stern enthusiasm had contributed so greatly to 
 effect the overthrow of the late King's throne, were 
 sought after, suppressed, and dispersed whenever they 
 could be discovered. 
 
 Juhan was soon satisfied that the meeting into which 
 he was thus secretly introduced was one of the latter 
 class, and, to judge by the violence of the preacher, of 
 the most desperate character. He was still more effect- 
 ually convinced of this when, at a sign from Bridgenorth, 
 he cautiously unclosed a part of the curtain which hung 
 before the gallery, and thus, unseen himself, looked 
 
 349
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 down on the audience and obtained a view of the 
 preacher. 
 
 About two hundred persons were assembled beneath, 
 in an area filled up with benches, as if for the exercise of 
 worship; and they were all of the male sex, and well 
 armed with pikes and muskets, as well as swords and 
 pistols. Most of them had the appearance of veteran 
 soldiers, now past the middle of life, yet retaining such 
 an appearance of strength as might well supply the loss 
 of youthful agihty. They stood or sat in various atti- 
 tudes of stern attention; and, resting on their spears and 
 muskets, kept their eyes firmly fixed on the preacher, 
 who ended the violence of his declamation by displaying 
 from the pulpit a banner, on which was represented a 
 lion, with the motto, ' Vicit Leo ex trihu Judce.'' 
 
 The torrent of mystical yet animating eloquence of 
 the preacher — an old grey-haired man, whom zeal 
 seemed to supply with the powers of voice and action of 
 which years had deprived him — was suited to the taste 
 of his audience, but could not be transferred to these 
 pages without scandal and impropriety. He menaced 
 the rulers of England with all the judgments denounced 
 on those of Moab and Assyria ; he called upon the saints 
 to be strong, to be up and doing; and promised those 
 miracles which, in the campaigns of Joshua and his suc- 
 cessors, the valiant Judges of Israel, supplied all odds 
 against the Amorites, Midianites, and Philistines. He 
 sounded trumpets, opened vials, broke seals, and de- 
 nounced approaching judgments under all the mystical 
 signs of the Apocalypse. The end of the world 
 was announced, accompanied with all its preliminary 
 terrors. 
 
 350
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Julian, with deep anxiety, soon heard enough to make 
 him aware that the meeting was likely to terminate in 
 open insurrection, like that of the Fifth Monarchy men 
 under Venner, at an earlier period of Charles's reign; 
 and he was not a little concerned at the probability of 
 Bridgenorth being implicated in so criminal and des- 
 perate an undertaking. If he had retained any doubts of 
 the issue of the meeting, they must have been removed 
 when the preacher called on his hearers to renounce all 
 expectation which had hitherto been entertained of 
 safety to the nation from the execution of the ordinary 
 laws of the land. This, he said, was at best but a carnal 
 seeking after earthly aid — a going down to Egypt for 
 help, which the jealousy of their Divine Leader would 
 resent as a fleeing to another rock and a different banner 
 from that which was this day displayed over them. And 
 here he solemnly swung the bannered lion over their 
 heads, as the only sign under which they ought to seek 
 for life and safety. He then proceeded to insist that 
 recourse to ordinary justice was vain as well as sinful. 
 
 'The event of that day at Westminster,' he said, 
 'might teach them that the man at Whitehall was even 
 as the man his father'; and he closed a long tirade 
 against the vices of the court with assurance 'that 
 Tophet was ordained of old — for the king it was made 
 hot.' 
 
 As the preacher entered on a description of the ap- 
 proaching theocracy, which he dared to prophesy, 
 Bridgenorth, who appeared for a time to have forgotten 
 the presence of Julian, whilst with stern and fixed atten- 
 tion he drank in the words of the preacher, seemed sud- 
 denly to collect himself, and, taking Julian by the hand, 
 
 351
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 led him out of the gallery, of which he carefully closed 
 the door, into an apartment at no great distance. 
 
 When they arrived there, he anticipated the expostula- 
 tions of Julian by asking him, in a tone of severe triumph, 
 whether these men he had seen were likely to do their 
 work negligently, or whether it would not be perilous to 
 attempt to force their way from a house when all the 
 avenues were guarded by such as he had now seen — 
 men of war from their childhood upwards. 
 
 * In the name of Heaven,' said Julian, without replying 
 to Bridgenorth's question, 'for what desperate purpose 
 have you assembled so many desperate men? I am well 
 aware that your sentiments of religion are peculiar; but 
 beware how you deceive yourself. No views of religion 
 can sanction rebellion and murder; and such are the 
 natural and necessary consequences of the doctrine we 
 have just heard poured into the ears of fanatical and 
 violent enthusiasts.' 
 
 'My son,' said Bridgenorth, calmly, 'in the days of 
 my nonage I thought as you do. I deemed it sufficient to 
 pay my tithes of cummin and anniseed — my poor petty 
 moral observances of the old law; and I thought I was 
 heaping up precious things, when they were in value no 
 more than the husks of the swine- trough. Praised be 
 Heaven, the scales are fallen from mine eyes, and after 
 forty years' wandering in the desert of Sinai, I am at 
 length arrived in the Land of Promise. My corrupt hu- 
 man nature has left me: I have cast my slough, and can 
 now with some conscience put my hand to the plough, 
 certain that there is no weakness left in me where- 
 through I may look back. The furrows,' he added, bend- 
 ing his brows, while a gloomy fire filled his large eyes, 
 
 352
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *must be drawn long and deep, and watered by the blood 
 of the mighty.' 
 
 There was a change in Bridgenorth's tone and manner 
 when he used these singular expressions, which con- 
 vinced Julian that his mind, which had wavered for so 
 many years between his natural good sense and the in- 
 sane enthusiasm of the time, had finally given way to 
 the latter; and, sensible of the danger in which the un- 
 happy man himself, the innocent and beautiful Alice, 
 and his own father, were likely to be placed, to say 
 nothing of the general risk of the community by a sud- 
 den insurrection, he at the same time felt that there was 
 no chance of reasoning effectually with one who would 
 oppose spiritual conviction to all arguments which rea' 
 son could urge against his wild schemes. To touch his 
 feelings seemed a more probable resource; and Julian 
 therefore conjured Bridgenorth to think how much his 
 daughter's honour and safety were concerned in his 
 abstaining from the dangerous course which he medi- 
 tated. * If you fall,' he said, 'must she not pass under the 
 power and guardianship of her uncle, whom you allow 
 to have shown himself capable of the grossest mistake in 
 the choice of her female protectress; and whom I believe, 
 upon good grounds, to have made that infamous choice 
 with his eyes open?' 
 
 'Young man,' answered Bridgenorth, 'you make me 
 feel like the poor bird around whose wing some wanton 
 boy has fixed a line, to pull the struggling wretch to 
 earth at his pleasure. Know, since thou wilt play this 
 cruel part, and drag me down from higher contempla- 
 tions, that she with whom Alice is placed, and who hath 
 in future full power to guide her motions and decide her 
 
 28 353
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 fate, despite of Christian and every one else, is — I will 
 not tell thee who she is. Enough — no one, thou least of 
 all, needs to fear for her safety.' 
 
 At this moment a side door opened, and Christian 
 himself came into the apartment. He started and 
 coloured when he saw Julian Peveril ; then, turning to 
 Bridgenorth with an assumed air of indifference, asked, 
 *Is Saul among the prophets? Is a Peveril among the 
 saints? ' 
 
 *No, brother,' replied Bridgenorth, 'his time is not 
 come, more than thine own: thou art too deep in the 
 ambitious intrigues of manhood, and he in the giddy 
 passions of youth, to hear the still calm voice. You will 
 both hear it, as I trust and pray.' 
 
 ' Master Ganlesse, or Christian, or by whatever name 
 you are called,' said Julian, *by whatever reasons you 
 guide yourself in this most perilous matter, you at least 
 are not influenced by any idea of an immediate Divine 
 command for commencing hostilities against the state. 
 Leaving, therefore, for the present whatever subjects of 
 discussion may be between us, I implore you, as a man 
 of shrewdness and sense, to join with me in dissuading 
 Master Bridgenorth from the fatal enterprise which he 
 now meditates.' 
 
 'Young gentleman,' said Christian, with great com- 
 posure, ' when we met in the west, I was willing to have 
 made a friend of you, but you rejected the overture. 
 You might, however, even then have seen enough of me 
 to be assured that I am not likely to rush too rashly on 
 any desperate undertaking. As to this which lies before 
 us, my brother Bridgenorth brings to it the simplicity, 
 though not the harmlessness, of the dove, and I the 
 
 354
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 subtilty of the serpent. He hath the leading of saints 
 who are moved by the Spirit; and I can add to their 
 efforts a powerful body, who have for their instigators 
 the world, the devil, and the flesh.' 
 
 'And can you,' said JuHan, looking at Bridgenorth, 
 'accede to such an unworthy union?' 
 
 *I unite not with them,' said Bridgenorth; 'but I may 
 not, without guilt, reject the aid which Providence sends 
 to assist His servants. We are ourselves few, though 
 determined. Those whose swords come to help the cut- 
 ting down of the harvest must be welcome. When their 
 work is wrought, they will be converted or scattered. 
 Have you been at York Place, brother, with that un- 
 stable epicure? We must have his last resolution, and 
 that within an hour.' 
 
 Christian looked at Julian, as if his presence pre- 
 vented him from returning an answer; upon which 
 Bridgenorth arose, and taking the young man by the 
 arm, led him out of the apartment, into that in which 
 they had left his father; assuring him by the way that 
 determined and vigilant guards were placed in every 
 different quarter by which escape could be effected, and 
 that he would do well to persuade his father to remain 
 a quiet prisoner for a few hours. 
 
 Julian returned him no answer, and Bridgenorth 
 presently retired, leaving him alone with his father and 
 Hudson. To their questions he could only briefly reply, 
 that he feared they were trepanned, since they were in 
 the house with at least two hundred fanatics, completely 
 armed, and apparently prepared for some desperate 
 enterprise. Their own want of arms precluded the pos- 
 sibility of open violence; and however unpleasant it 
 
 355
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 might be to remain in such a condition, it seemed diffi- 
 cult, from the strength of the fastenings at doors and 
 windows, to attempt any secret escape without instant- 
 aneous detection. 
 
 The valiant dwarf alone nursed hopes, with which he 
 in vain endeavoured to inspire his companions in afflic- 
 tion. 'The fair one whose eyes/ he said, 'were like the 
 twin stars of Leda ' — for the little man was a great 
 admirer of lofty language — 'had not invited him, the 
 most devoted, and, it might be, not the least favoured, 
 of her servants, into this place as a harbour, in order 
 that he might therein suffer shipwreck'; and he gener- 
 ously assured his friends that in his safety they also 
 should be safe. 
 
 Sir Geoffrey, little cheered by this intimation, ex- 
 pressed his despair at not being able to get the length of 
 Whitehall, where he trusted to find as many jolly Cava- 
 liers as would help him to stifle the whole nest of wasps 
 in their hive; while Julian was of opinion that the best 
 service he could now render Bridgenorth would be time- 
 ously to disclose his plot, and, if possible, to send him 
 at the same time warning to save his person. 
 
 But we must leave them to meditate over their plans 
 at leisure, no one of which, as they all depended on their 
 previous escape from confinement, seemed in any great 
 chance of being executed.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 And some for safety took the dreadful leap, 
 
 Some for the voice of Heaven seem'd calling on them. 
 
 Some for advancement, or for lucre's sake; 
 
 1 leap'd in frolic. 
 
 The Dream. 
 
 After a private conversation with Bridgenorth, Christ- 
 ian hastened to the Duke of Buckingham's hotel, taking 
 at the same time such a route as to avoid meeting with 
 any acquaintance. He was ushered into the apartment 
 of the duke, whom he found cracking and eating filberts, 
 with a flask of excellent white wine at his elbow. * Christ- 
 ian,' said his Grace, 'come help me to laugh: I have bit 
 Sir Charles Sedley, flung him for a thousand, by the 
 gods ! ' 
 
 * I am glad at your luck, my lord duke,' replied Christ- 
 ian; 'but I am come here on serious business.' 
 
 'Serious! why, I shall hardly be serious in my life 
 again — ha, ha, ha! and for luck, it was no such thing — 
 sheer wit and excellent contrivance; and but that I don't 
 care to afifront Fortune, like the old Greek general, I 
 might tell her to her face — "In this thou hadst no 
 share." You have heard, Ned Christian, that Mother 
 Cresswell is dead? ' 
 
 'Yes, I did hear that the devil hath got his due,' 
 answered Christian. 
 
 'Well,' said the duke, 'you are ungrateful; for I know 
 you have been obliged to her, as well as others. Before 
 George, a most benevolent and helpful old lady; and 
 
 357
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 that she might not sleep in an unblest grave, I betted — 
 do you mark me? — with Sedley that I would write her 
 funeral sermon, that it should be every word in praise of 
 her life and conversation, that it should be all true; and 
 yet that the diocesan should be unable to lay his thumb 
 on Quodling, my little chaplain, who should preach it.' 
 
 *I perfectly see the difi&culty, my lord,' said Christian, 
 who well knew that, if he wished to secure attention from 
 this volatile nobleman, he must first suffer, nay, en- 
 courage, him to exhaust the topic, whatever it might be, 
 that had got temporary possession of his pineal gland. 
 
 'Why,' said the duke, 'I caused my little Quodling to 
 go through his oration thus: "That whatever evil re- 
 ports had passed current during the lifetime of the wor- 
 thy matron whom they had restored to dust that day, 
 malice itself could not deny that she was born well, 
 married well, lived well, and died well; since she was 
 born in Shadwell, married to Cresswell, Uved in Cam- 
 berwell, and died in Bridewell." Here ended the oration, 
 and with it Sedley's ambitious hopes of overreaching 
 Buckingham — ha, ha, ha! And now. Master Christian, 
 what are your commands for me to-day? ' 
 
 * First, to thank your Grace for being so attentive as 
 to send so formidable a person as Colonel Blood to wait 
 upon your poor friend and servant. Faith, he took such 
 an interest in my leaving town that he wanted to compel 
 me to do it at point of fox, so I was obliged to spill a lit- 
 tle of his malapert blood. Your Grace's swordsmen have 
 had ill luck of late; and it is hard, since you always 
 choose the best hands, and such scrupleless knaves too.' 
 
 'Come now. Christian,' said the duke, 'do not thus 
 exult over me; a great man, if I may so call myself, is 
 
 358
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 never greater than amid miscarriage. I only played this 
 little trick on you, Christian, to impress on you a whole- 
 some idea of the interest I take in your motions. The 
 scoundrel's having dared to draw upon you is a thing not 
 to be forgiven. What! injure my old friend Christian?' 
 
 'And why not,' said Christian, coolly, *if your old 
 friend was so stubborn as not to go out of town, like 
 a good boy, when your Grace required him to do so, 
 for the civil purpose of entertaining his niece in his ab- 
 sence?' 
 
 'How — what! — how do you mean by my entertain- 
 ing your niece. Master Christian?' said the duke. 'She 
 was a personage far beyond my poor attentions, being 
 destined, if I recollect aright, to something like royal 
 favour.' 
 
 'It was her fate, however, to be the guest of your 
 Grace's convent for a brace of days or so. Marry, my 
 lord, the father confessor was not at home, and — for 
 convents have been scaled of late — returned not till the 
 bird was flown.' 
 
 ' Christian, thou art an old reynard — I see there is no 
 doubling with thee. It was thou, then, stole away my 
 pretty prize, but left me something so much prettier in 
 my mind that, had it not made itself wings to fly away 
 with, I would have placed it in a cage of gold. Never be 
 downcast, man; I forgive thee — I forgive thee.' 
 
 'Your Grace is of a most merciful disposition, espe- 
 cially considering it is I who have had the wrong ; and 
 sages have said that he who doth the injury is less apt to 
 forgive than he who only sustains it.' 
 
 'True — true. Christian,' said the duke, 'which, as 
 you say, is something quite new, and places my clemency 
 
 359
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 in a striking point of view. Well, then, thou forgiven 
 man, when shall I see my Mauritanian princess again?' 
 
 'Whenever I am certain that a quibble, and a car- 
 whichet, for a play or a sermon, will not banish her from 
 your Grace's memory.' 
 
 'Not all the wit of South or of Etherege,' said Bucking- 
 ham, hastily, * to say nothing of my own, shall in future 
 make me oblivious of what I owe the Morisco princess.' 
 
 'Yet, to leave the fair lady out of thought for a little 
 while — a very little while,' said Christian, 'since I 
 swear that in due time your Grace shall see her, and 
 know in her the most extraordinary woman that the age 
 has produced — to leave her, I say, out of sight for a 
 little while, has your Grace had late notice of your 
 duchess's health? ' 
 
 'Health!' said the duke. 'Umph — no — nothing 
 particular. She has been ill ; but — ' 
 
 'She is no longer so,' subjoined Christian; 'she died in 
 Yorkshire forty-eight hours since.' 
 
 ' Thou must deal with the devil ! ' said the duke. 
 
 'It would ill become one of my name to do so,' replied 
 Christian. 'But, in the brief interval since your Grace 
 hath known of an event which hath not yet reached the 
 public ear, you have, I believe, made proposals to the 
 King for the hand of the Lady Anne, second daughter of 
 the Duke of York, and your Grace's proposals have been 
 rejected.' 
 
 'Fiends and firebrands, villain !' said the duke, starting 
 up and seizing Christian by the collar; 'who hath told 
 thee that?' 
 
 'Take your hand from my cloak, my lord duke, and I 
 may answer you,' said Christian. ' I have a scurvy touch 
 
 360
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 of old Puritanical humour about me: I abide not the im- 
 position of hands. Take ofif your grasp from my cloak, 
 or I will find means to make you unloose it.' 
 
 The duke, who had kept his right hand on his dagger- 
 hilt while he held Christian's collar with his left, un- 
 loosed it as he spoke, but slowly, and as one who rather 
 suspends than abandons the execution of some hasty 
 impulse; while Christian, adjusting his cloak with per- 
 fect composure, said, 'Soh — my cloak being at liberty, 
 we speak on equal terms. I come not to insult your 
 Grace, but to offer you vengeance for the insult you have 
 received.' 
 
 'Vengeance!' said the duke. 'It is the dearest proffer 
 man can present to me in my present mood. I hunger for 
 vengeance — thirst for vengeance — would die to ensure 
 vengeance! 'Sdeath!' he continued, walking up and 
 down the large apartment with the most unrestrained 
 and violent agitation, ' I have chased this repulse out of 
 my brain with ten thousand trifles, because I thought no 
 one knew it. But it is known, and to thee, the very com- 
 mon sewer of court secrets; the honour of Villiers is in 
 thy keeping, Ned Christian. Speak, thou man of wiles 
 and of intrigue; on whom dost thou promise the venge- 
 ance? Speak! and if thy answers meet my desires, I will 
 make a bargain with thee as willingly as with thy 
 master, Satan himself.' 
 
 'I will not be,' said Christian, 'so unreasonable in my 
 terms as stories tell of the old apostate: I will offer your 
 Grace, as he might do, temporal prosperity and revenge, 
 which is his frequent recruiting money; but I leave it to 
 yourself to provide, as you may be pleased, for your 
 future salvation.' 
 
 361
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The duke, gazing upon him fixedly and sadly, replied, 
 *I would to God, Christian, that I could read what pur- 
 pose of damnable villainy thou hast to propose to me in 
 thy countenance, without the necessity of thy using 
 words ! ' 
 
 'Your Grace can but try a guess,' said Christian, 
 calmly smiling. 
 
 *No,' repHed the duke, after gazing at him again for 
 the space of a minute ; * thou art so deeply dyed an hypo- 
 crite, that thy mean features and clear grey eye are as 
 likely to conceal treason as any petty scheme of theft or 
 larceny more corresponding to your degree.' 
 
 'Treason, my lord!' echoed Christian; 'you may have 
 guessed more nearly than you were aware of. I honour 
 your Grace's penetration.' 
 
 'Treason!' echoed the duke. 'Who dare name such a 
 crime to me? ' 
 
 ' If a name startles your Grace, you may call it venge- 
 ance — vengeance on the cabal of counsellors, who have 
 ever countermined you, in spite of your wit and your 
 interest with the King. Vengeance on Arlington, Or- 
 mond — on Charles himself.' 
 
 'No, by Heaven,' said the duke, resuming his disor- 
 dered walk through the apartment. 'Vengeance on 
 these rats of the privy council, come at it as you will. 
 But the King ! never — never. I have provoked him a 
 hundred times, where he has stirred me once. I have 
 crossed his path in state intrigue, rivalled him in love, had 
 the advantage in both, and, d — n it, he has forgiven me! 
 If treason would put me in his throne, I have no apology 
 for it: it were worse than bestial ingratitude.' 
 
 'Nobly spoken, my lord,' said Christian; 'and con- 
 362
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 sistent alike with the obligations under which your 
 Grace lies to Charles Stuart and the sense you have ever 
 shown of them. But it signifies not. If your Grace 
 patronise not our enterprise, there is Shaftesbury, there 
 is Monmouth — ' 
 
 'Scoundrel!' exclaimed the duke, even more vehe- 
 mently agitated than before, * think you that you shall 
 carry on with others an enterprise which I have refused? 
 No, by every heathen and every Christian god! Hark 
 ye, Christian, I will arrest you on the spot — I will, by 
 gods and devils, and carry you to unravel your plot at 
 Whitehall.' 
 
 'Where the first words I speak,' answered the imper- 
 turbable Christian, 'will be to inform the privy council 
 in what place they may find certain letters, wherewith 
 your Grace has honoured your poor vassal, containing, 
 as I think, particulars which his Majesty will read with 
 more surprise than pleasure.' 
 
 *'Sdeath, villain!' said the duke, once more laying 
 his hand on his poniard-hilt, 'thou hast me again at 
 advantage. I know not why I forbear to poniard you. 
 where you stand ! ' 
 
 'I might fall, my lord duke,' said Christian, slightly 
 colouring, and putting his right hand into his bosom, 
 'though not, I think, unavenged, for I have not put my 
 person into this peril altogether without means of de- 
 fence. I might fall, but, alas! your Grace's correspond- 
 dence is in hands which, by that very act, would be 
 rendered sufficiently active in handing them to the King 
 and the privy council. What say you to the Moorish 
 princess, my lord duke? What if I have left her execu- 
 trix of my will, with certain instructions how to proceed 
 
 363
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 if I return not unharmed from York Place? O, my lord, 
 though my head is in the wolf's mouth, I was not goose 
 enough to place it there without settUng how many cara- 
 bines should be fired on the wolf, so soon as my dying 
 cackle was heard. Pshaw, my lord duke! you deal with a 
 man of sense and courage, yet you speak to him as a 
 child and a coward.' 
 
 The duke threw himself into a chair, fixed his eyes 
 on the ground, and spoke without raising them. *I am 
 about to call Jerningham,' he said; 'but fear nothing — 
 it is only for a draught of wine. That stuff on the table 
 may be a vehicle for filberts and walnuts, but not for 
 such communications as yours. Bring me champagne,* 
 he said to the attendant who answered on his summons. 
 
 The domestic returned, and brought a flask of cham- 
 pagne, with two large silver cups. One of them he filled 
 for Buckingham, who, contrary to the usual etiquette, 
 was always served first at home, and then offered the 
 other to Christian, who declined to receive it. 
 
 The duke drank off the large goblet which was pre- 
 sented to him, and for a moment covered his forehead 
 with the palm of his hand; then instantly withdrew it^ 
 and said, 'Christian, speak your errand plainly. We 
 know each other. If my reputation be in some degree in 
 your hands, you are well aware that your life is in mine. 
 Sit down,' he said, taking a pistol from his bosom and 
 laying it on the table — * sit down, and let me hear your 
 proposal.' 
 
 'My lord,' said Christian, smiling, 'I shall produce no 
 such ultimate argument on my part, though possibly, in 
 time of need, I may not be found destitute of them. But 
 my defence is in the situation of things, and in the com- 
 
 364
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 posed view which, doubtless, your Majesty will take of 
 them.' 
 
 'Majesty!' repeated the duke. 'My good friend 
 Christian, you have kept company with the Puritans so 
 long that you confuse the ordinary titles of the court.' 
 
 'I know not how to apologise,' said Christian, 'unless 
 your Grace will suppose that I spoke by prophecy.' 
 
 'Such as the devil delivered to Macbeth,' said the 
 duke, — again paced the chamber, and again seated 
 himself, and said, ' Be plain. Christian — speak out at 
 once, and manfully, what is it you intend? ' 
 
 '/,' said Christian. 'What should I do? I can do 
 nothing in such a matter; but I thought it right that 
 your Grace should know that the godly of this city (he 
 spoke the word with a kind of ironical grin) are impa- 
 tient of inactivity, and must needs be up and doing. My 
 brother Bridgenorth is at the head of all old Weiver's 
 congregation ; for you must know that, after floundering 
 from one faith to another, he hath now got beyond ordin- 
 ances, and is become a Fifth Monarchy man. He has 
 nigh two hundred of Weiver's people fully equipped and 
 ready to fall on; and, with slight aid from your Grace's 
 people, they must carry Whitehall and make prisoners 
 of all within it.' 
 
 'Rascal ! ' said the duke, 'and is it to a peer of England 
 you make this communication? ' 
 
 'Nay,' answered Christian, 'I admit it would be ex- 
 treme folly in your Grace to appear until all is over. But 
 let me give Blood and the others a hint on your part. 
 There are the four Germans also — right Knipper- 
 dolings and Anabaptists — will be specially useful. You 
 are wise, my lord, and know the value of a corps of 
 
 365
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 domestic gladiators, as well as did Octavius, Lepidus, 
 and Antony, when, by such family forces, they divided 
 the world by indenture tripartite.' 
 
 'Stay — stay,' said the duke. 'Even if these blood- 
 hounds were to join with you — not that I would permit 
 it without the most positive assurances for the King's 
 personal safety — but say the villains were to join, what 
 hope have you of carrying the court? ' 
 
 'Bully Tom Armstrong,^ my lord, hath promised his 
 interest with the Life Guards. Then there are my Lord 
 Shaftesbury's brisk boys in the city — thirty thousand 
 on the holding up a finger.' 
 
 'Let him hold up both hands, and if he count a hun- 
 dred for each finger,' said the duke, 'it will be more than 
 I expect. You have not spoken to him?' 
 
 'Surely not, till your Grace's pleasure was known. 
 But, if he is not applied to, there is the Dutch train, 
 Hans Snorehout's congregation, in the Strand; there are 
 the French Protestants in Piccadilly; there are the fam- 
 ily of Levi in Lewkenor's Lane, the Muggletonians in 
 Thames Street — ' 
 
 'Ah, faugh! Out upon them — out upon them! How 
 the knaves will stink of cheese and tobacco when they 
 come upon action ! they will drown all the perfumes in 
 Whitehall. Spare me the detail, and let me know, my 
 dearest Ned, the sum total of thy most odoriferous 
 forces.' 
 
 'Fifteen hundred men, well armed,' said Christian, 
 'besides the rabble that will rise to a certainty; they 
 have already nearly torn to pieces the prisoners who 
 were this day acquitted on account of the Plot.' 
 
 » See Note i8. 
 366
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'All, then, I understand. And now, hark ye, most 
 Christian Christian,' said he, wheeling his chair full in 
 front of that on which his agent was seated, 'you have 
 told me many things to-day — shall I be equally com- 
 municative? Shall I show you that my accuracy of in- 
 formation matches yours? Shall I tell you, in a word, why 
 you have at once resolved to push every one, from the 
 Puritan to the Free-thinker, upon a general attack of the 
 palace at Whitehall, without allowing me, a peer of the 
 realm, time either to pause upon or to prepare for a step 
 so desperate? Shall I tell you why you would lead or 
 drive, seduce or compel, me into countenancing your 
 measures? ' 
 
 'My lord, if you please to form a guess,' said Christ- 
 ian, 'I will answer with all sincerity if you have as- 
 signed the right cause.' 
 
 'The Countess of Derby is this day arrived, and at- 
 tends the court this evening with hopes of the kindest 
 reception. She may be surprised amid the melee? Ha! 
 said I not right. Master Christian? You, who pretend 
 to ofifer me revenge, know yourself its exquisite sweet- 
 ness.' 
 
 'I would not presume,' said Christian, half smiling, 
 *to offer your Grace a dish without acting as your taster 
 as well as purveyor.' 
 
 'That's honestly said,' said the duke. 'Away, then, 
 my friend. Give Blood this ring; he knows it, and knows 
 how to obey him who bears it. Let him assemble my 
 gladiators, as thou dost most wittily term my coupe- 
 jarrets. The old scheme of the German music may be 
 resorted to, for I think thou hast the instruments ready. 
 But take notice, I know nothing on't; and Rowley's 
 
 367
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 person must be safe: I will hang and bum on all hands if 
 a hair of his black periwig ^ be but singed. Then what 
 is to follow — a Lord Protector of the realm ; or stay 
 — Cromwell has made the word somewhat slovenly 
 and unpopular — a Lord Lieutenant of the kingdom? 
 The patriots who take it on themselves to revenge the 
 injustice done to the country, and to remove evil coun- 
 sellors from before the King's throne, that it may be 
 henceforward established in righteousness — so I think 
 the rubric runs — cannot fail to make a fitting choice.' 
 
 'They cannot, my lord duke,' said Christian, 'since 
 there is but one man in the three kingdoms on whom 
 that choice can possibly fall.' 
 
 'I thank you. Christian,' said his Grace; 'and I trust 
 you. Away, and make all ready. Be assured your 
 services shall not be forgot. We will have you near to 
 us.' 
 
 'My lord duke,' said Christian, 'you bind me doubly 
 to you. But remember, that as your Grace is spared any 
 obnoxious proceedings which may befall in the way of 
 military execution or otherwise, so it will be advisable 
 that you hold yourself in preparation, upon a moment's 
 notice, to put yourself at the head of a band of honour- 
 able friends and allies, and come presently to the palace, 
 where you will be received by the victors as a com- 
 mander and by the vanquished as a preserver.' 
 
 ' I conceive you — I conceive you. I will be in prompt 
 readiness,' said the duke. 
 
 'Ay, my lord,' continued Christian; 'and, for Heav- 
 en's sake, let none of those toys, which are the very 
 Dalilahs of your imagination, come across your Grace 
 
 1 See Note 19. 
 368
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 this evening, and interfere with the execution of this 
 sublime scheme.' 
 
 'Why, Christian, dost think me mad?' was his 
 Grace's emphatic reply. * It is you who linger, when all 
 should be ordered for a deed so daring. Go then. But 
 hark ye, Ned; ere you go, tell me when I shall again see 
 yonder thing of fire and air — yon Eastern Peri, that 
 glides into apartments by the key-hole, and leaves them 
 through the casement — yon black-eyed houri of the 
 Mahometan paradise — when, I say, shall I see her once 
 more?' 
 
 * When your Grace has the truncheon of Lord Lieuten- 
 ant of the kingdom,' said Christian, and left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Buckingham stood fixed in contemplation for a mo- 
 ment after he was gone. ' Should I have done this? ' he 
 said, arguing the matter with himself; *or had I the 
 choice, rather, of doing aught else? Should I not hasten 
 to the court and make Charles aware of the treason 
 which besets him? I will, by Heaven! Here, Jerning- 
 ham, my coach, with the despatch of light! I will throw 
 myself at his feet, and tell him of all the follies which I 
 have dreamed of with this Christian. And then he will 
 laugh at me and spurn me? No, I have kneeled to him 
 to-day already, and my repulse was nothing gentle. To 
 be spurned once in the sun's daily round is enough for 
 Buckingham.' 
 
 Having made this reflection, he seated himself, and 
 began hastily to mark down the young nobles and gen- 
 tlemen of quality, and others their very ignoble com- 
 panions, who, he supposed, might be likely to assume 
 him for their leader in any popular disturbance. He had 
 
 - 28 369
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 1 
 nearly completed it, when Jernmgham entered to say 
 
 the coach would be ready in an instant, and to bring his 
 
 master's sword, hat, and cloak. 
 
 'Let the coachman draw off,' said the duke, 'but be in 
 readiness. And send to the gentlemen thou wilt find 
 named in this list; say I am but ill at ease, and wish their 
 company to a slight collation. Let instant expedition be 
 made, and care not for expense; you will find most of 
 them at the Club-House in Fuller's Rents.' ^ 
 
 The preparations for festivity were speedily made, 
 and the intended guests, most of them persons who were 
 at leisure for any call that promised pleasure, though 
 sometimes more deaf to those of duty, began speedily to 
 assemble. There were many youths of the highest rank, 
 and with them, as is usual in those circles, many of a 
 different class, whom talents, or impudence, or wit, or 
 a turn for gambling, had reared up into companions for 
 the great and the gay. The Duke of Buckingham was 
 a general patron of persons of this description; and a 
 numerous attendance took place on the present occasion. 
 
 The festivity was pursued with the usual appliances of 
 wine, music, and games of hazard, with which, however, 
 there mingled in that period much more wit, and a good 
 deal more gross profligacy of conversation, than the 
 talents of the present generation can supply, or their 
 taste would permit. 
 
 The duke himself proved the complete command 
 which he possessed over his versatile character, by main- 
 taining the frolic, the laugh, and the jest, while his ear 
 caught up, and with eagerness, the most distant sounds, 
 as intimating the commencement of Christian's revolu- 
 * See Note 20. 
 370 .
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 tionary project. Such sounds were heard from time to 
 time, and from time to time they died away, without any 
 of those consequences which Buckingham expected. 
 
 At length, and when it was late in the evening, Jern- 
 ingham announced Master Chiffinch from the court, and 
 that worthy personage followed the annunciation. 
 
 'Strange things have happened, my lord duke,' he 
 said; 'your presence at court is instantly required by his 
 Majesty.' 
 
 'You alarm me,' said Buckingham, standing up. 'I 
 hope nothing has happened — I hope there is nothing 
 wrong — I hope his Majesty is well?' 
 
 'Perfectly well,' said Chiffinch; 'and desirous to see 
 your Grace without a moment's delay.' 
 
 'This is sudden,' said the duke. 'You see I have had 
 merry fellows about me, and am scarce in case to appear, 
 Chiffinch.' 
 
 'Your Grace seems to be in very handsome plight,* 
 said Chiffinch; 'and you know his Majesty is gracious 
 enough to make allowances.' 
 
 'True,' said the duke, not a little anxious in his 
 mind touching the cause of this unexpected summons 
 — ' true, his Majesty is most gracious. I will order my 
 coach.' 
 
 'Mine is below,' rephed the royal messenger; 'it will 
 save time, if your Grace will condescend to use it.' 
 
 Forced from every evasion, Buckingham took a goblet 
 from the table, and requested his friends to remain at his 
 palace so long as they could find the means of amuse- 
 ment there. 'He expected,' he said, 'to return almost 
 immediately; if not, he would take farewell of them with 
 his usual toast, " May all of us that are not hanged in the 
 
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 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 interval meet together again here on the first Monday of 
 next month." ' 
 
 This standing toast of the duke bore reference to the 
 character of several of his guests ; but he did not drink it 
 on the present occasion without some anticipation con- 
 cerning his own fate, in case Christian had betrayed him. 
 He hastily made some addition to his dress, and at- 
 tended Chifi&nch in the chariot to Whitehall.
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 High feasting was there there: the gilded roofs 
 Rung to the wassail-health; the dancer's step 
 Sprung to the chord responsive; the gay gamestei 
 To fate's disposal flung his heap of gold, 
 And laugh'd alike when it increased or lessen'd; 
 Such virtue hath court air to teach us patience. 
 Which schoolmen preach in vain. 
 
 Why come ye not to Court f ■ 
 
 Upon the afternoon of this eventful day, Charles held his 
 court in the Queen's apartments, which were opened at 
 a particular hour to invited guests of a certain lower 
 degree, but accessible without restriction to the higher 
 classes of nobility who had from birth, and to the court- 
 iers who held by office, the privilege of the entree. 
 
 It was one part of Charles's character, which unques- 
 tionably rendered him personally popular, and post- 
 poned to a subsequent reign the precipitation of his fam- 
 ily from the throne, that he banished from his court 
 many of the formal restrictions with which it was in 
 other reigns surrounded. He was conscious of the good- 
 natured grace of his manners, and trusted to it, often not 
 in vain, to remove evil impressions arising from actions 
 which he was sensible could not be justified on the 
 grounds of hberal or national policy. 
 
 In the daytime the King was commonly seen in the 
 public walks alone, or only attended by one or two per- 
 sons; and his answer to the remonstrance of his brother, 
 on the risk of thus exposing his person, is well known. 
 'Believe me, James,' he said, 'no one will murder me to 
 make you king.' 
 
 373
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 In the same manner, Charles's evenings, unless such 
 as were destined to more secret pleasures, were fre- 
 quently spent amongst all who had any pretence to ap- 
 proach a courtly circle, and thus it was upon the night 
 which we are treating of. Queen Catherine, reconciled or 
 humbled to her fate, had long ceased to express any feel- 
 ings of jealousy, nay, seemed so absolutely dead to such 
 a passion, that she received at her drawing-room, with- 
 out scruple, and even with encouragement, the Duchesses 
 of Portsmouth and Cleveland, and others, who enjoyed, 
 though in a less avowed character, the credit of having 
 been royal favourites. Constraint of every kind was 
 banished from a circle so composed, and which was fre- 
 quented at the same time, if not by the wisest, at least 
 by the wittiest, courtiers who ever assembled round a 
 monarch, and who, as many of them had shared the 
 wants, and shifts, and frolics of his exile, had then ac- 
 quired a sort of prescriptive hcense, which the good- 
 natured prince, when he attained his period of prosper- 
 ity, could hardly have restrained had it suited his temper 
 to do so. This, however, was the least of Charles's 
 thoughts. His manners were such as secured him from 
 indelicate obtrusion ; and he sought no other protection 
 from over-familiarity than what these and his ready wit 
 afforded him. 
 
 On the present occasion, he was peculiarly disposed to 
 enjoy the scene of pleasure which had been prepared. 
 The singular death of Major Coleby, which, taking place 
 in his own presence, had proclaimed, with the voice of 
 a passing bell, the ungrateful neglect of the prince for 
 whom he had sacrificed everything, had given Charles 
 much pain. But, in his own opinion at least, he had 
 
 374
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 completely atoned for this negligence by the trouble 
 which he had taken for Sir Geoffrey Peveril and his son, 
 whose liberation he looked upon not only as an excellent 
 good deed in itself, but, in spite of the grave rebuke of 
 Ormond, as achieved in a very pardonable manner, con- 
 sidering the difficulties with which he was surrounded. 
 He even felt a degree of satisfaction on receiving intel- 
 ligence from the city that there had been disturbances in 
 the streets, and that some of the more violent fanatics 
 had betaken themselves to their meeting-houses, upon 
 sudden summons, to inquire, as their preachers phrased 
 it, into the causes of Heaven's wrath, and into the back- 
 sliding of the court, lawyers, and jury, by whom the false 
 and bloody favourers of the Popish Plot were screened 
 and cloaked from deserved punishment. 
 
 The King, we repeat, seemed to hear these accounts 
 with pleasure, even when he was reminded of the dan- 
 gerous and susceptible character of those with whom 
 such suspicions originated. 'Will any one now assert,' 
 he said, with self-complacence, 'that I am so utterly 
 negligent of the interest of friends? You see the peril in 
 which I place myself, and even the risk to which I have 
 exposed the pubhc peace, to rescue a man whom I have 
 scarce seen for twenty years, and then only in his buff- 
 coat and bandeliers, with other train-band ofl&cers who 
 kissed hands upon the Restoration. They say kings 
 have long hands; I think they have as much occasion for 
 long memories, since they are expected to watch over 
 and reward every man in England who hath but shown 
 his good-will by crying, "God save the King!'" 
 
 'Nay, the rogues are even more unreasonable still,' 
 said Sedley; 'for every knave of them thinks himself 
 
 375
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 entitled to your Majesty's protection in a good cause, 
 whether he has cried "God save the King" or no.' 
 
 The King smiled, and turned to another part of the 
 stately hall, where everything was assembled which 
 could, according to the taste of the age, make the time 
 glide pleasantly away. 
 
 In one place, a group of the young nobility and of the 
 ladies of the court Hstened to the reader's acquaintance, 
 Empson, who was accompanying, with his unrivalled 
 breathings on the flute, a young siren, who, while her 
 bosom palpitated with pride and with fear, warbled to 
 the courtly and august presence the beautiful air, begin- 
 ning, 
 
 * Young I am, and yet unskill'd 
 How to make a lover yield,' etc. 
 
 She performed her task in a manner so corresponding 
 with the strains of the amatory poet and the voluptuous 
 air with which the words had been invested by the cele- 
 brated Purcel, that the men crowded around in ecstasies, 
 while most of the ladies thought it proper either to look 
 extremely indifferent to the words she sung or to with- 
 draw from the circle as quietly as possible. To the song 
 succeeded a concerto, performed by a select band of 
 most admirable musicians, which the King, whose taste 
 was indisputable, had himself selected. 
 
 At other tables in the apartment the elder courtiers 
 worshipped fortune, at the various fashionable games of 
 ombre, quadrille, hazard, and the like; while heaps of 
 gold which lay before the players augmented or dwin- 
 dled with every turn of a card or cast of a die. Many a 
 year's rent of fair estates was ventured upon the main 
 or the odds, which, spent in the old deserted manor- 
 
 376
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 house, had repaired the ravages of Cromwell upon its 
 walls, and replaced the sources of good housekeeping and 
 hospitality, that, exhausted in the last age by fine and 
 sequestration, were now in a fair way of being annihil- 
 ated by careless prodigality. Elsewhere, under cover of 
 observing the gamester or listening to the music, the 
 gallantries of that all-licensed age were practised among 
 the gay and fair, closely watched the whilst by the ugly 
 or the old, who promised themselves at least the pleasure 
 of observing, and it may be that of proclaiming, intrigues 
 in which they could not be sharers. 
 
 From one table to another glided the merry monarch, 
 exchanging now a glance with a court beauty, now a jest 
 with a court wit, now beating time to the music, and 
 anon losing or winning a few pieces of gold on the chance 
 of the game to which he stood nearest — the most ami- 
 able of voluptuaries, the gayest and best-natured of 
 companions, the man that would, of all others, have best 
 sustained his character, had life been a continued ban- 
 quet, and its only end to enjoy the passing hour and send 
 it away as pleasantly as might be. 
 
 But kings are least of all exempted from the ordin- 
 ary lot of humanity; and Seged of Ethiopia is, amongst 
 monarchs, no solitary example of the vanity of reckoning 
 on a day or an hour of undisturbed serenity. An attend- 
 ant on the court announced suddenly to their Majesties 
 that a lady, who would only announce herself as a 
 peeress of England, desired to be admitted into the 
 presence. 
 
 The Queen said, hastily, 'It was impossible. No 
 peeress, without announcing her title, was entitled to the 
 privilege of her rank.' 
 
 377
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *I could be sworn,' said a nobleman in attendance, 
 * that it is some whim of the Duchess of Newcastle.' 
 
 The attendant who brought the message said that ' He 
 did indeed believe it to be the duchess, both from the 
 singularity of the message and that the lady spoke with 
 somewhat a foreign accent.' 
 
 ' In the, name of madness, then,' said the King, ' let us 
 admit her. Her Grace is an entire raree-show in her own 
 person — a universal masquerade — indeed, a sort of 
 private Bedlam Hospital, her whole ideas being like so 
 many patients crazed upon the subjects of love and 
 literature, who act nothing in their vagaries save 
 Minerva, Venus, and the nine Muses.' 
 
 'Your Majesty's pleasure must always supersede 
 mine,' said the Queen. *I only hope I shall not be ex- 
 pected to entertain so fantastic a personage. The last 
 time she came to court, Isabella (she spoke to one of her 
 Portuguese ladies of honour), you had not returned from 
 our lovely Lisbon — her Grace had the assurance to 
 assume a right to bring a train-bearer into my apart- 
 ment; and when this was not allowed, what then, think 
 you, she did? Even caused her train to be made so long 
 that three mortal yards of satin and silver remained in 
 the ante-chamber, supported by four wenches, while the 
 other end was attached to her Grace's person, as she 
 paid her duty at the upper end of the presence-room. 
 Full thirty yards of the most beautiful silk did her 
 Grace's madness employ in this manner.' 
 
 'And most beautiful damsels they were who bore this 
 portentous train,' said the King — *a train never 
 equalled save by that of the great comet in sixty-six. 
 Sedley and Etherege told us wonders of them ; for it is 
 
 378
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 one advantage of this new fashion brought up by the 
 duchess, that a matron may be totally unconscious of 
 the coquetry of her train and its attendants.' 
 
 * Am I to understand, then, your Majesty's pleasure is 
 that the lady is to be admitted? ' said the usher. 
 
 * Certainly,' said the King; ' that is, if the incognito be 
 really entitled to the honour. It may be as well to in- 
 quire her title; there are more madwomen abroad than 
 the Duchess of Newcastle. I will walk into the ante- 
 room myself and receive your answer.' 
 
 But, ere Charles had reached the lower end of the 
 apartment in his progress to the ante-room, the usher 
 surprised the assembly by announcing a name which had 
 not for many a year been heard in these courtly halls — • 
 'The Countess of Derby.' 
 
 Stately and tall, and still, at an advanced period of 
 life, having a person unbroken by years, the noble lady 
 advanced towards her sovereign with a step resembling 
 that with which she might have met an equal. There 
 was, indeed, nothing in her manner that indicated either 
 haughtiness or assumption unbecoming that presence; 
 but her consciousness of wrongs sustained from the 
 administration of Charles, and of the superiority of the 
 injured party over those from whom, or in whose name, 
 the injury had been offered, gave her look dignity and 
 her step firmness. She was dressed in widow's weeds, of 
 the same fashion which were worn at the time her hus- 
 band was brought to the scaffold, and which, in the 
 thirty years subsequent to that event, she had never 
 permitted her tirewoman to alter. 
 
 The surprise was no pleasing one to the King; and 
 cursing in his heart the rashness which had allowed the 
 
 379
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 lady entrance on the gay scene in which they were en- 
 gaged, he saw at the same time the necessity of receiving 
 her in a manner suitable to his own character and her 
 rank in the British court. He approached her with an air 
 of welcome, into which he threw all his natural grace, 
 while he began, 'Chere Comptesse de Derby, puissante 
 Reine de Man, notre tres auguste sceur — ' 
 
 ' Speak English,, sire, if I may presume to ask such 
 a favour,' said the countess. *I am a peeress of this 
 nation, mother to one English earl, and widow, alas, to 
 another! In England I have spent my brief days of hap- 
 piness, my long years of widowhood and sorrow. France 
 and its language are but to me the dreams of an unin- 
 teresting childhood. I know no tongue save that of my 
 husband and my son. Permit me, as the widow and 
 mother of Derby, thus to render my homage.' 
 
 She would have kneeled, but the King gracefully pre- 
 vented her, and, saluting her cheek, according to the 
 form, led her towards the Queen, and himself performed 
 the ceremony of introduction. 'Your Majesty,' he said, 
 'must be informed that the countess has imposed a re- 
 striction on French, the language of gallantry and com- 
 pliment. I trust your Majesty will, though a foreigner 
 like herself, find enough of honest English to assure the 
 Countess of Derby with what pleasure we see her at 
 court after the absence of so many years.' 
 
 *I will endeavour to do so at least,' said the Queen, on 
 whom the appearance of the Countess of Derby made a 
 more favourable impression than that of many strangers 
 whom, at the King's request, she was in the habit of 
 receiving with courtesy. 
 
 Charles himself again spoke. 'To any other lady of 
 
 380
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 the same rank I might put the question, why she was so 
 long absent from the circle. I fear I can only ask the 
 Countess of Derby what fortunate cause produces the 
 pleasure of seeing her here ?' 
 
 'No fortunate cause, my liege, though one most 
 strong and urgent.' 
 
 The King augured nothing agreeable from this com- 
 mencement; and in truth, from the countess's first 
 entrance, he had anticipated some unpleasant explana- 
 tion, which he therefore hastened to parry, having first 
 composed his features into an expression of sympathy 
 and interest. 
 
 'If,' said he, 'the cause is of a nature in which we 
 can render assistance, we cannot expect your ladyship 
 should enter upon it at the present time; but a memorial 
 addressed to our secretary, or, if it is more satisfactory, 
 to ourselves directly, will receive our immediate, and, 
 I trust I need not add, our favourable, construction.' 
 
 The countess bowed with some state, and answered, 
 'My business, sire, is indeed important; but so brief, 
 that it need not for more than a few minutes withdraw 
 your ear from what is more pleasing; yet it is so urgent, 
 that I am afraid to postpone it even for a moment.' 
 
 'This is unusual,' said Charles. 'But you. Countess 
 of Derby, are an unwonted guest, and must command 
 my time. Does the matter require my private ear? ' 
 
 'For my part,' said the countess, 'the whole court 
 might listen; but your Majesty may prefer hearing me 
 in the presence of one or two of your counsellors.' 
 
 'Ormond,' said the King, looking around, 'attend us 
 for an instant; and do you, Arlington, do the same.' 
 
 The King led the way into an adjoining cabinet, and, 
 
 381
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 seating himself, requested the countess would also take 
 a chair. 
 
 *It needs not, sire,' she replied; then pausing for a 
 moment, as if to collect her spirits, she proceeded with 
 firmness. ' Your Majesty well said that no light cause ^ 
 had drawn me from my lonely habitation. I came not 
 hither when the property of my son — that property 
 which descended to him from a father who died for your 
 Majesty's rights — was conjured away from him under 
 pretext of justice, that it might first feed the avarice of 
 the rebel Fairfax and then supply the prodigality of his 
 son-in-law, Buckingham.' 
 
 'These are over harsh terms, lady,' said the King. 
 *A legal penalty was, as we remember, incurred by an 
 act of irregular violence ; so our courts and our laws term 
 it, though personally I have no objection to call it, with 
 you, an honourable revenge. But admit it were such, 
 in prosecution of the laws of honour, bitter legal conse- 
 quences are often necessarily incurred.' 
 
 ' I come not to argue for my son's wasted and forfeited 
 inheritance, sire,' said the countess; 'I only take credit 
 for my patience under that alSlicting dispensation. I 
 now come to redeem the honour of the house of Derby, 
 more dear to me than all the treasures and lands which 
 ever belonged to it.' 
 
 * And by whom is the honour of the house of Derby 
 impeached?' said the King; 'for, on my word, you bring 
 me the first news of it.' 
 
 'Has there one Narrative, as these wild fictions are 
 termed, been printed with regard to the Popish Plot — 
 this pretended plot, as I will call it — in which the hon- 
 our of our house has not been touched and tainted? And 
 
 382
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 are there not two noble gentlemen, father and son, allies 
 of the house of Stanley, about to be placed in jeopardy 
 of their lives on account of matters in which we are the 
 parties first impeached? ' 
 
 The King looked around and smiled to Arlington and 
 Ormond. 'The countess's courage, methinks, shames 
 ours. What lips dared have called the immaculate Plot 
 pretended, or the Narrative of the witnesses, our pre- 
 servers from Popish knives, a wild fiction? But, madam,' 
 he said, ' though I admire the generosity of your inter- 
 ference in behalf of the two Peverils, I must acquaint 
 you that your interference is unnecessary : they are this 
 morning acquitted.' 
 
 * Now may God be praised ! ' said the countess, folding 
 her hands. ' I have scarce slept since I heard the news of 
 their impeachment; and have arrived here to surrender 
 myself to your Majesty's justice, or to the prejudices of 
 the nation, in hopes, by so doing, I might at least save 
 the lives of my noble and generous friends, enveloped 
 in suspicion only, or chiefly, by their connexion with us. 
 Are they indeed acquitted?' 
 
 'They are, by my honour/ said the King. 'I marvel 
 you heard it not.' 
 
 * I arrived but last night, and remained in the strictest 
 seclusion,' said the countess, 'afraid to make any in- 
 quiries that might occasion discovery ere I saw your 
 Majesty.' 
 
 'And now that we have met,' said the King, taking her 
 hand kindly — 'a meeting which gives me the greatest 
 pleasure — may I recommend to you speedily to return 
 to your royal island with as little eclat as you came 
 hither? The world, my dear countess, has changed since 
 
 383
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 we were young. Men fought in the Civil War with good 
 swords and muskets ; but now we fight with indictments 
 and oaths, and such-like legal weapons. You are no 
 adept in such warfare ; and though I am well aware you 
 know how to hold out a castle, I doubt much if you have 
 the art to parry off an impeachment. This Plot has come 
 upon us like a land storm ; there is no steering the vessel 
 in the teeth of the tempest, we must run for the nearest 
 haven, and happy if we can reach one.' 
 
 ' This is cowardice, my liege,' said the countess. ' For- 
 give the word! it is but a woman who speaks it. Call 
 your noble friends around you, and make a stand Hke 
 your royal father. There is but one right and one wrong 
 — one honourable and forward course ; and all others 
 which deviate are oblique and unworthy.' 
 
 'Your language, my venerated friend,' said Ormond, 
 who saw the necessity of interfering betwixt the dignity 
 of the actual sovereign and the freedom of the countess, 
 who was generally accustomed to receive, not to pay, 
 observance — 'your language is strong and decided, but 
 it applies not to the times. It might occasion a renewal 
 of the Civil War and of all its miseries, but could hardly 
 be attended with the effects you sanguinely anticipate.' 
 
 'You are too rash, my lady countess,' said ArHngton, 
 ' not only to rush upon this danger yourself, but to desire 
 to involve his Majesty. Let me say plainly that, in this 
 jealous time, you have done but ill to exchange the se- 
 curity of Castle Rushin for the chance of a lodging in the 
 Tower of London.' 
 
 'And were I to kiss the block there,' said the countess, 
 'as did my husband at Bolton-on-the-Moors, I would do 
 so willingly, rather than forsake a friend ! and one, too, 
 
 384 

 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 whom, as in the case of the younger Peveril, I have 
 thrust upon danger.' 
 
 * But have I not assured you that both of the Peverils, 
 elder and younger, are freed from peril?' said the King; 
 'and, my dear countess, what can else tempt you to 
 thrust yourself on danger, from which, doubtless, you 
 expect to be relieved by my intervention? Methinks a 
 lady of your judgment should not voluntarily throw her- 
 self into a river, merely that her friends might have the 
 risk and merit of dragging her out.' 
 
 The countess reiterated her intention to claim a fair 
 trial. The two counsellors again pressed their advice 
 that she should withdraw, though under the charge of 
 absconding from justice, and remain in her own feudal 
 kingdom. 
 
 The King, seeing no termination to the debate, gently 
 reminded the countess that her Majesty would be jealous 
 if he detained her ladyship longer, and offered her his 
 hand to conduct her back to the company. This she was 
 under the necessity of accepting, and returned accord- 
 ingly to the apartments of state, where an event oc- 
 curred immediately afterwards which must be trans- 
 ferred to the next chapter.
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XL VI 
 
 Here stand I tight and trim, 
 
 Quick of eye. though little of limb; 
 
 He who denieth the word I have spoken,' 
 
 Betwixt him and me shall lances be broken. 
 
 Lay oj the Little John de Saintrt. 
 
 When Charles had re-conducted the Countess of Derby 
 into the presence-chamber, before he parted with her, 
 he entreated her, in a whisper, to be governed by good 
 counsel, and to regard her own safety; and then turned 
 easily from her, as if to distribute his attentions equally 
 among the other guests. 
 
 These were a good deal circumscribed at the instant by 
 the arrival of a party of five or six musicians, one of 
 whom, a German, under the patronage of the Duke of 
 Buckingham, was particularly renowned for his perform- 
 ance on the violoncello, but had been detained in inact- 
 ivity in the ante-chamber by the non-arrival of his in- 
 strument, which had now at length made its appearance. 
 
 The domestic who placed it before the owner, shrouded 
 as it was within its wooden case, seemed heartily glad 
 to be rid of his load, and lingered for a moment, as if in- 
 terested in discovering what sort of instrument was to 
 be produced that could weigh so hea\dly. His curiosity 
 was satisfied, and in a most extraordinary manner; for, 
 while the musician was fumbling with the key, the case 
 being for his greater convenience placed upright against 
 the wall, the case and instrument itself at once flew open, 
 and out started the dwarf, Geoffrey Hudson, at sight of 
 
 386
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 whose unearthly appearance, thus suddenly introduced, 
 the ladies shrieked and ran backwards, the gentlemen 
 started, and the poor German, on seeing the portentous 
 delivery of his fiddle-case, tumbled on the floor in an 
 agony, supposing, it might be, that his instrument was 
 metamorphosed into the strange figure which supplied 
 its place. So soon, however, as he recovered, he glided 
 out of the apartment, and was followed by most of his 
 companions. 
 
 'Hudson!' said the King. "My little old friend, I am 
 not sorry to see you ; though Buckingham, who I suppose 
 is the purveyor of this jest, hath served us up but a stale 
 one.' 
 
 'Will your Majesty honour me with one moment's 
 attention?' said Hudson. 
 
 'Assuredly, my good friend,' said the King. 'Old ac- 
 quaintances are springing up in every quarter to-night; 
 and our leisure can hardly be better employed than in 
 listening to them. It was an idle trick of Buckingham,' 
 he added, in a whisper to Ormond, 'to send the poor 
 thing hither, especially as he was to-day tried for the 
 affair of the Plot. At any rate, he comes not to ask pro- 
 tection from us, having had the rare fortune to come off 
 plot-free. He is but fishing, I suppose, for some little 
 present or pension.' 
 
 The Uttle man, precise in court etiquette, yet impa- 
 tient of the King's delaying to attend to him, stood in the 
 midst of the floor, most valorously pawing and pranc- 
 ing, like a Scots pony assuming the airs of a war-horse, 
 waving meanwhile his little hat with the tarnished fea- 
 ther, and bowing from time to time, as if impatient to 
 be heard. 
 
 387
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'Speak on, then, my friend,' said Charles; 'if thou 
 hast some poetical address penned for thee, out with it, 
 that thou mayst have time to repose these flourishing 
 little limbs of thine.' 
 
 *No poetical speech have I, most mighty sovereign,' 
 answered the dwarf; * but, in plain and most noble prose, 
 I do accuse, before this company, the once noble Duke 
 of Buckingham of high treason ! ' 
 
 'Well spoken, and manfully. Get on, man,' said the 
 King, who never doubted that this was the introduction 
 to something burlesque or witty, not conceiving that the 
 charge was made in solemn earnest. 
 
 A great laugh took place among such courtiers as 
 heard, and among many who did not hear, what was ut- 
 tered by the dwarf ; the former entertained by the extra- 
 vagant emphasis and gesticulation of the little champion, 
 and the others laughing not the less loud that they 
 laughed for example's sake, and upon trust. 
 
 'What matter is there for all this mirth?' said he, very 
 indignantly. *Is it fit subject for laughing, that I, Geof- 
 frey Hudson, knight, do, before king and nobles, im- 
 peach George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, of high 
 treason? * 
 
 'No subject of mirth, certainly,' said Charles, com- 
 posing his features ; ' but great matter of wonder. Come, 
 cease this mouthing, and prancing, and mummery. If 
 there be a jest, come, out with it, man ; and if not, even 
 get thee to the beauffet, and drink a cup of wine to re- 
 fresh thee after thy close lodging.' 
 
 'I tell you, my liege,' said Hudson, impatiently, yet 
 in a whisper, intended only to be audible by the King, 
 * that if you spend over much time in trifling, you will be 
 
 388
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 convinced by dire experience of Buckingham's treason. 
 I tell you — I asseverate to your Majesty — two hun- 
 dred armed fanatics will be here within the hour, to sur- 
 prise the guards.' 
 
 'Stand back, ladies,' said the King, 'or you may hear 
 more than you will care to listen to. My Lord of Buck- 
 ingham's jests are not always, you know, quite fitted for 
 female ears; besides, we want a few words in private 
 with our little friend. You, my Lord of Ormond — you, 
 Arlington (and he named one or two others), may re- 
 main with us.' 
 
 The gay crowd bore back, and dispersed through the 
 apartment — the men to conjecture what the end of this 
 mummery, as they supposed it, was likely to prove; and 
 what jest, as Sedley said, the bass-fiddle had been 
 brought to bed of, and the ladies to admire and criticise 
 the antique dress and richly embroidered ruff and hood 
 of the Countess of Derby, to whom the Queen was show- 
 ing particular attention. 
 
 'And now, in the name of Heaven, and amongst 
 friends,' said the King to the dwarf, 'what means all 
 this?' 
 
 'Treason, my lord the King! — treason to his Maj- 
 esty of England! When I was chambered in yonder 
 instrument, my lord, the High-Dutch fellows who bore 
 me carried me into a certain chapel, to see, as they said 
 to each other, that all was ready. Sire, I went where 
 bass-fiddle never went before, even into a conventicle 
 of Fifth Monarchists; and when they brought me away, 
 the preacher was concluding his sermon, and was 
 within a "Now to apply" of setting off like the bell- 
 wether at the head of his flock, to surprise your Maj- 
 
 389
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 esty in your royal court. I heard him through the 
 sound-holes of my instrument, when the fellow set me 
 down for a moment to profit by this precious doctrine.' 
 
 *It would be singular,' said Lord Arlington, 'were 
 there some reality at the bottom of this buffoonery; for 
 we know these wild men have been consulting together 
 to-day, and five conventicles have held a solemn fast.' 
 
 *Nay,' said the King, 'if that be the case, they are 
 certainly determined on some villainy.' 
 
 'Might I advise,' said the Duke of Ormond, 'I would 
 summon the Duke of Buckingham to this presence. His 
 connexions with the fanatics are well known, though he 
 affects to conceal them.' 
 
 'You would not, my lord, do his Grace the injustice 
 to treat him as a criminal on such a charge as this?' 
 said the King. 'However,' he added, after a moment's 
 consideration, 'Buckingham is accessible to every sort 
 of temptation, from the flightiness of his genius. I 
 should not be surprised if he nourished hopes of an as- 
 piring kind. I think we had some proof of it but lately. 
 Hark ye, Chiffinch, go to him instantly, and bring him 
 here on any fair pretext thou canst devise. I would fain 
 save him from what lawyers call an overt act. The court 
 would be dull as a dead horse were Buckingham to mis- 
 carry.' 
 
 'Will not your Majesty order the Horse Guards to 
 turn out?' said young Selby, who was present and an 
 officer. 
 
 'No, Selby,' said the King, *I like not horse-play. 
 But let them be prepared; and let the high bailiff collect 
 his civil officers, and command the sheriffs to summon 
 their worshipful attendants, from javelin-men to hang- 
 
 390
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 men/ and have them in readiness, in case of any sudden 
 tumult; double the sentinels on the doors of the palace, 
 and see no strangers get in.' 
 
 'Or out,^ said the Duke of Ormond. 'Where are the 
 foreign fellows who brought in the dwarf ? ' 
 
 They were sought for, but they were not to be found. 
 They had retreated, leaving their instruments — a cir- 
 cumstance which seemed to bear hard on the Duke of 
 Buckingham, their patron. 
 
 Hasty preparations were made to provide resistance to 
 any effort of despair which the supposed conspirators 
 might be driven to; and, in the meanwhile, the ICing, 
 withdrawing with Arlington, Ormond, and a few other 
 counsellors, into the cabinet where the Countess of 
 Derby had had her audience, resumed the examination 
 of the little discoverer. His declaration, though singu- 
 lar, was quite coherent, the strain of romance inter- 
 mingled with it being, in fact, a part of his character, 
 which often gained him the fate of being laughed at, 
 when he would otherwise have been pitied, or even es- 
 teemed. 
 
 He commenced with a flourish about his sufferings for 
 the Plot, which the impatience of Ormond would have 
 cut short, had not the King reminded his Grace that a 
 top, when it is not flogged, must needs go down of itself 
 at the end of a definite time, while the apphcation of the 
 whip may keep it up for hours. 
 
 Geoffrey Hudson was, therefore, allowed to exhaust 
 himself on the subject of his prison-house, which he in- 
 formed the King was not without a beam of light — an 
 emanation of loveliness — a mortal angel — quick of 
 
 * See Note 21. 
 391
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 «l 
 
 step and beautiful of eye, who had more than once visited 
 his confinement with words of cheering and comfort. 
 
 *By my faith,' said the King, ' they fare better in New- 
 gate than I was aware of. Who would have thought of 
 the little gentleman being solaced with female society 
 in such a place? ' 
 
 'I pray your Majesty,' said the dwarf, after the man- 
 ner of a solemn protest, ' to understand nothing amiss. 
 My devotion to this fair creature is rather like what we 
 poor Catholics pay to the blessed saints than mixed with 
 any grosser quality. Indeed, she seems rather a sylphid 
 of the Rosicrucian system than aught more carnal ; being 
 slighter, lighter, and less than the females of common 
 life, who have something of that coarseness of make 
 which is doubtless derived from the sinful and gigantic 
 race of the antediluvians.' 
 
 'Well, say on, man,' quoth Charles. 'Didst thou not 
 discover this sylph to be a mere mortal wench after all?' 
 
 'Who? I, my liege? Ofie!' 
 
 'Nay, little gentleman, do not be so particularly scan- 
 dalised,' said the King; 'I promise you, I suspect you 
 of no audacity of gallantry.' 
 
 'Time wears fast,' said the Duke of Ormond, impa- 
 tiently, and looking at his watch. ' Chiffinch hath been 
 gone ten minutes, and ten minutes will bring him back.' 
 
 'True,' said Charles, gravely. 'Come to the point, 
 Hudson; and tell us what this female has to do with 
 your coming hither in this extraordinary maimer.' 
 
 'Everything, my lord,' said little Hudson. 'I saw her 
 twice during my confinement in Newgate, and, in my 
 thought, she is the very angel who guards my life and 
 welfare; for, after my acquittal, as I walked towards the 
 
 392
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 city with two tall gentlemen, who had been in trouble 
 along with me, and just while we stood to our defence 
 against a rascally mob, and Just as I had taken possession 
 of an elevated situation to have some vantage against 
 the great odds of numbers, I heard a Heavenly voice 
 sound, as it were, from a window behind me, counselling 
 me to take refuge in a certain house; to which measure 
 I readily persuaded my gallant friends the Peverils, who 
 have always shown themselves willing to be counselled 
 by me.' 
 
 'Showing therein their wisdom at once and modesty,' 
 said the King. 'But what chanced next? Be brief — 
 be like thyself, man.' 
 
 'For a time, sire,' said the dwarf, 'it seemed as if I 
 were not the principal object of attention. First, the 
 younger Peveril was withdrawn from us by a gentleman 
 of venerable appearance, though somewhat smacking 
 of a Puritan, having boots of meat's leather, and wear- 
 ing his weapon without a sword-knot. When Master 
 Julian returned, he informed us, for the first time, that 
 we were in the power of a body of armed fanatics, who 
 were, as the poet says, "prompt for direful act." And 
 your Majesty will remark that both father and son were 
 in some measure desperate, and disregardful from that 
 moment of the assurances which I gave them, that the 
 star which I was bound to worship would, in her own 
 time, shine forth in signal of our safety. May it please 
 your Majesty, in answer to my hilarious exhortations to 
 confidence, the father did but say "tush" and the son 
 "pshaw," which showed how men's prudence and man- 
 ners are disturbed by affliction. Nevertheless, these two 
 gentlemen, the Peverils, forming a strong opinion of the 
 
 393
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 necessity there was to break forth, were it only to con- 
 vey a knowledge of these dangerous passages to your 
 Majesty, commenced an assault on the door of the apart- 
 ment, I also assisting with the strength which Heaven 
 hath given, and some threescore years have left, me. 
 We could not, as it unhappily proved, manage our at- 
 tempt so silently but that our guards overheard us, and, 
 entering in numbers, separated us from each other, and 
 compelled my companions, at point of pike and poniard, 
 to go to some other and more distant apartment, thus 
 separating our fair society. I was again inclosed in the 
 now solitary chamber, and I will own that I felt a certain 
 depression of soul. But "when bale is at highest," as 
 the poet singeth, "boot is at nighest," for a door of 
 hope was suddenly opened — ' 
 
 'In the name of God, my liege,' said the Duke of Or- 
 mond, 'let this poor creature's story be translated into 
 the language of common sense by some of the scribblers 
 of romances about court, and we may be able to make 
 meaning of it.' 
 
 Geoffrey Hudson looked with a frowning countenance 
 of reproof upon the impatient old Irish nobleman, and 
 said, with a very dignified air, 'That one duke upon a 
 poor gentleman's hand was enough at a time, and that, 
 but for his present engagement and dependency with 
 the Duke of Buckingham, he would have endured no 
 such terms from the Duke of Ormond.' 
 
 'Abate your valour and diminish your choler, at our 
 request, most puissant Sir Geoffrey Hudson,' said the 
 King; 'and forgive the Duke of Ormond for my sake; 
 but at all events go on with your story.' 
 
 Geoffrey Hudson laid his hand on his bosom and bowed 
 
 394 

 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 in proud and dignified submission to his sovereign; then 
 waved his forgiveness gracefully to Ormond, accompan- 
 ied with a horrible grin, which he designed for a smile 
 of gracious forgiveness and conciliation. 'Under the 
 duke's favour, then,' he proceeded, 'when I said a door 
 of hope was opened to me, I meant a door behind the 
 tapestry, from whence issued that fair vision — yet 
 not so fair as lustrously dark, like the beauty of a con- 
 tinental night, where the cloudless azure sky shrouds 
 us in a veil more lovely than that of day! But I note 
 your Majesty's impatience. Enough — I followed my 
 beautiful guide into an apartment, where there lay, 
 strangely intermingled, warlike arms and musical in- 
 struments. Among these I saw my own late place of 
 temporary obscurity — a violoncello. To my astonish- 
 ment, she turned around the instrument, and opening 
 it behind by pressure of a spring, showed that it was 
 filled with pistols, daggers, and ammunition made up in 
 bandeliers. "These," she said, "are this night destined 
 to surprise the court of the unwary Charles" — your 
 Majesty must pardon my using her own words — "but 
 if thou darest go in their stead, thou mayst be the saviour 
 of king and kingdoms; if thou art afraid, keep secret, I 
 will myself try the adventure." "Now, may Heaven 
 forbid that Geoffrey Hudson were craven enough," 
 said I, "to let thee run such a risk! You know not — 
 you cannot know, what belongs to such ambuscades and 
 concealments. I am accustomed to them: have lurked 
 in the pocket of a giant, and have formed the contents 
 of a pasty." "Get in, then," she said, "and lose no 
 time." Nevertheless, while I prepared to obey, I will not 
 deny that some cold apprehensions came over my hot 
 
 395
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 valour, and I confessed to her, if it might be so, I would 
 rather find my way to the palace on my own feet. But 
 she would not listen to me, saying hastily, "I would be 
 intercepted, or refused admittance, and that I must em- 
 brace the means she offered me of introduction into the 
 presence, and when there tell the King to be on his 
 guard ; httle more is necessary, for once the scheme is 
 known it becomes desperate." Rashly and boldly I bid 
 adieu to the daylight, which was then fading away. She 
 withdrew the contents of the instrument destined for my 
 concealment, and having put them behind the chimney- 
 board, introduced me in their room. As she clasped me 
 in, I implored her to warn the men who were to be en- 
 trusted with me to take heed and keep the neck of the 
 violoncello uppermost; but ere I had completed my re- 
 quest, I found I was left alone, and in darkness. Pre- 
 sently, two or three fellows entered, whom, by their lan- 
 guage, which I in some sort understood, I perceived to 
 be Germans, and under the influence of the Duke of 
 Buckingham. I heard them receive from the leader a 
 charge how they were to deport themselves when they 
 should assume the concealed arms; and — for I will do 
 the duke no wrong — I understood their orders were 
 precise, not only to spare the person of the King, but 
 also those of the courtiers, and to protect all who might 
 be in the presence against an irruption of the fanatics. 
 In other respects, they had charge to disarm the gentle- 
 men-pensioners in the guard-room, and, in fine, to ob- 
 tain the command of the court.' 
 
 The King looked disconcerted and thoughtful at this 
 communication, and bade Lord Arlington see that Selby 
 quietly made search into the contents of the other cases 
 
 396
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 which had been brought as containing musical instru- 
 ments. He then signed to the dwarf to proceed in his 
 story, asking him again and again, and very solemnly, 
 whether he was sure that he heard the duke's name men- 
 tioned, as commanding or approving this action. 
 
 The dwarf answered in the affirmative. 
 
 'This,' said the King, 'is carrying the frolic somewhat 
 far.' 
 
 The dwarf proceeded to state, that 'He was carried 
 after his metamorphosis into the chapel, where he heard 
 the preacher seemingly about the close of his harangue,' 
 the tenor of which he also mentioned. 'Words,' he said, 
 'could not express the agony which he felt when he 
 found that his bearer, in placing the instrument in a 
 corner, was about to invert its position, in which case,' 
 he said, 'human frailty might have proved too great 
 for love, for loyalty, for true obedience, nay, for the fear 
 of death, which was like to ensue on discovery ' ; and he 
 concluded, that 'he greatly doubted he could not have 
 stood on his head for many minutes without screaming 
 aloud.' 
 
 'I could not have blamed you,' said the King; 'placed 
 in such a posture in the royal oak, I must needs have 
 roared myself. Is this all you have to tell us of this 
 strange conspiracy? ' Sir Geoffrey Hudson repUed in the 
 affirmative, and the King presently subjoined — ' Go, 
 my httle friend; your services shall not be forgotten. 
 Since thou hast crept into the bowels of a fiddle for our 
 service, we are bound, in duty and conscience, to find 
 you a more roomy dwelling in future.' 
 
 'It was a violoncello, if your Majesty is pleased to re- 
 member,' said the httle jealous man, 'not a common 
 
 397
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 fiddle; though, for your Majesty's service, I would have 
 crept even into a kit.' 
 
 * Whatever of that nature could have been performed 
 by any subject of ours, thou wouldst have enacted in our 
 behalf, of that we hold ourselves certain. Withdraw for 
 a little; and hark ye, for the present, beware what you 
 say about this matter. Let your appearance be con- 
 sidered — do you mark me — as a frolic of the Duke of 
 Buckingham; and not a word of conspiracy.' 
 
 * Were it not better to put him under some restraint, 
 sire?' said the Duke of Ormond, when Hudson had left 
 the room. 
 
 *It is unnecessary,' said the King, *I remember the 
 little wretch of old. Fortune, to make him the model of 
 absurdity, has closed a most lofty soul within that little 
 miserable carcass. For wielding his sword and keeping 
 his word, he is a perfect Don Quixote in decimo-octavo. 
 He shall be taken care of. But, odds-fish, my lords, is 
 not this freak of Buckingham too villainous and imgrate- 
 ful?' 
 
 'He had not had the means of being so, had your 
 Majesty,' said the Duke of Ormond, 'been less lenient 
 on other occasions.' 
 
 * My lord — my lord,' said Charles, hastily, ' your lord- 
 ship is Buckingham's known enemy; we will take other 
 and' more impartial counsel. Arlington, what think you 
 of all this?' 
 
 'May it please your Majesty,' said Arlington, 'I 
 think the thing is absolutely impossible, unless the duke 
 has had some quarrel with your Majesty of which we 
 know nothing. His Grace is very flighty, doubtless, but 
 this seems actual insanity.' 
 
 398
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *Why, faith/ said the King, 'some words passed be- 
 twixt us this morning; his duchess it seems is dead, and, 
 to lose no time, his Grace had cast his eyes about for 
 means of repairing the loss, and had the assurance to ask 
 our consent to woo my niece, Lady Anne.' 
 
 'Which your Majesty of course rejected?' said the 
 statesman. 
 
 'And not without rebuking his assurance,' added the 
 King. 
 
 'In private, sir, or before any witnesses?' said the 
 Duke of Ormond. 
 
 'Before no one,' said the King — 'excepting, indeed, 
 little Chifiinch; and he, you know, is no one.' 
 
 ' Hinc illcB lachrymcB,' said Ormond. 'I know his 
 Grace well. While the rebuke of his aspiring petulance 
 was a matter betwixt your Majesty and him, he might 
 have let it pass by; but a check before a fellow from 
 whom it was hkely enough to travel through the court 
 was a matter to be revenged.' 
 
 Here Selby came hastily from the other room, to say 
 that his Grace of Buckingham had just entered the 
 presence-chamber. 
 
 The King rose. 'Let a boat be in readiness, with a 
 party of the yeomen,' said he. 'It may be necessary 
 to attach him of treason and send him to the Tower.' 
 
 'Should not a Secretary of State's warrant be pre- 
 pared?' said Ormond. 
 
 'No, my lord duke,' said the King, sharply. 'I still 
 hope that the necessity may be avoided.'
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 High reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. 
 
 Richard III. 
 
 Before giving the reader an account of the meeting be- 
 twixt Buckingham and his injured sovereign, we may 
 mention a trifling circumstance or two which took place 
 betwixt his Grace and Chiffinch, in the short drive 
 betwixt York Place and Whitehall. 
 
 In the outset, the duke endeavoured to learn from the 
 courtier the special cause of his being summoned so 
 hastily to the court. Chiffinch answered, cautiously, 
 that *He believed there were some gambols going for- 
 ward, at which the King desired the duke's presence.' 
 
 This did not quite satisfy Buckingham, for, conscious 
 of his own rash purpose, he could not but apprehend 
 discovery. After a moment's silence, 'Chiffinch,' he 
 said, abruptly, 'did you mention to any one what the 
 King said to me this morning touching the Lady 
 Anne? ' 
 
 'My lord duke,' said Chiffinch, hesitating, 'surely my 
 duty to the King, my respect to your Grace — ' 
 
 'You mentioned it to no one then?' said the duke, 
 sternly. 
 
 'To no one,' replied Chiffinch, faintly, for he was in- 
 timidated by the duke's increasing severity of manner. 
 
 'You lie, like a scoundrel!' said the duke. 'You told 
 Christian.' 
 
 'Your Grace,' said Chiffinch — 'your Grace — your 
 
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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Grace ought to remember that I told you Christian's 
 secret, that the Countess of Derby was come up.' 
 
 'And you think the one point of treachery may bal- 
 ance for the other? But no. I must have a better 
 atonement. Be assured I will blow your brains out, ere 
 you leave this carriage, unless you tell me the truth of 
 this message from court.' 
 
 As Chiffinch hesitated what reply to make, a man, 
 who, by the blaze of the torches, then always borne as 
 well by the lackeys who hung behind the carriage as by 
 the footmen who ran by the side, might easily see who 
 sat in the coach, approached, and sung in a deep manly 
 voice the burden of an old French song on the battle of 
 Marignan, in which is imitated the German French of 
 the defeated Swiss -^ 
 
 'Tout est veriore, 
 La tintelore, 
 Tout est veriore, 
 
 Bei Got.' 
 
 *I am betrayed,' said the duke, who instantly con- 
 ceived that this chorus, expressing 'all is lost,' was sung 
 by one of his faithful agents, as a hint to him that their 
 machinations were discovered. 
 
 He attempted to throw himself from the carriage, but 
 Chiffinch held him with a firm, though respectful, grasp. 
 'Do not destroy yourself, my lord,' he said, in a tone of 
 deep humility; 'there are soldiers and officers of the 
 peace around the carriage, to enforce your Grace's com- 
 ing to Whitehall, and to prevent your escape. To at- 
 tempt it would be to confess guilt, and I advise you 
 strongly against that; the King is your friend — be your 
 own.' 
 
 S8 401
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The duke, after a moment's consideration, said sul- 
 lenly, * I believe you are right. Why should I fly, when 
 I am guilty of nothing but sending some fireworks to 
 entertain the court, instead of a concert of music?' 
 
 'And the dwarf, who came so unexpectedly out of the 
 bass-viol — ' 
 
 'Was a masking device of my own, Chifiinch,' said 
 the duke, though the circumstance was then first known 
 to him. 'Chiffinch, you will bind me for ever if you 
 will permit me to have a minute's conversation with 
 Christian.' 
 
 'With Christian, my lord? Where could you find him? 
 You are aware we must go straight on to the court.' 
 
 'True,' said the duke, 'but I think I cannot miss find- 
 ing him; and you, Master Chifiinch, are no ofiicer, and 
 have no warrant either to detain me prisoner or prevent 
 my speaking to whom I please.' 
 
 Chifiinch replied, 'My lord duke, your genius is so 
 great, and your escapes so numerous, that it will be from 
 no wish of my own if I am forced to hurt a man so skilful 
 and so popular.' 
 
 'Nay, then, there is life in it yet,' said the duke, and 
 whistled; when, from beside the little cutler's booth, 
 with which the reader is acquainted, appeared, suddenly, 
 Master Christian, and was in a moment at the side of the 
 coach. ^Ganz ist verloren' said the duke. 
 
 'I know it,' said Christian; 'and all our godly friends 
 are dispersed upon the news. Lucky the colonel and 
 these German rascals gave a hint. All is safe. You go 
 to court. Hark ye, I will follow.' 
 
 'You, Christian? that would be more friendly than 
 wise.' 
 
 402 
 
 I
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 'Why, what is there against me,' said Christian. 'I 
 am innocent as the child unborn, so is your Grace. There 
 is but one creature who can bear witness to our guilt; 
 but I trust to bring her on the stage in our favour; be- 
 sides, if I went not, I should presently be sent for.' 
 
 'The familiar of whom I have heard you speak, I 
 warrant? ' 
 
 'Hark in your ear again.' 
 
 *I understand,' said the duke, 'and will delay Master 
 Chiffinch — for he, you must know, is my conductor — • 
 no longer. Well, Chiffinch, let them drive on. Vogue 
 la galerel' he exclaimed, as the carriage went onward; 
 'I have sailed through worse perils than this yet.' 
 
 'It is not for me to judge,' said Chiffinch; 'your Grace 
 is a bold commander, and Christian hath the cunning 
 of the devil for a pilot; but — However, I remain your 
 Grace's poor friend, and will heartily rejoice in your ex- 
 trication.' 
 
 'Give me a proof of your friendship,' said the duke. 
 'Tell me what you know of Christian's familiar, as he 
 calls her.' 
 
 'I believe it to be the same dancing wench who came 
 with Empson to my house on the morning that Mistress 
 Alice made her escape from us. But you have seen her, 
 my lord.' 
 
 'I!' said the duke. 'When did I see her?' 
 
 'She was employed by Christian, I beheve, to set his 
 niece at liberty, when he found himself obliged to gratify 
 his fanatical brother-in-law, by restoring his child; 
 besides, being prompted by a private desire, as I think, of 
 bantering your Grace.' 
 
 ' Umph ! I suspected so much. I will repay it,' said the 
 
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 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 duke. 'But first to get out of this dilemma. That little 
 Numidian witch, then, was his familiar; and she joined 
 in the plot to tantalise me? But here we reach White- 
 hall. Now, Chiffinch, be no worse than thy word, and — 
 now, Buckingham, be thyself!' 
 
 But ere we follow Buckingham into the presence, 
 where he had so difficult a part to sustain, it may not 
 be amiss to follow Christian after his brief conversation 
 with him. On re-entering the house, which he did by a 
 circuitous passage, leading from a distant alley, and 
 through several courts, Christian hastened to a low mat- 
 ted apartment, in which Bridgenorth sat alone, reading 
 the Bible by the light of a small brazen lamp, with the 
 utmost serenity of countenance. 
 
 'Have you dismissed the Peverils?' said Christian, 
 hastily. 
 
 'I have,' said the major. 
 
 'And upon what pledge that they will not carry in- 
 formation against you to Whitehall?' 
 
 'They gave me their promise voluntarily, when I 
 showed them our armed friends were dismissed. To- 
 morrow, I believe, it is their purpose to lodge informa- 
 tions.' 
 
 'And why not to-night, I pray you?' said Christian. 
 
 'Because they allow us that time for escape.' 
 
 'Why, then, do you not avail yourself of it? Where- 
 fore are you here?' said Christian. 
 
 'Nay, rather, why do you not fly?' said Bridgenorth. 
 'Of a surety, you are as deeply engaged as I.' 
 
 'Brother Bridgenorth, I am the fox, who knows a 
 hundred modes of deceiving the hounds; you are the 
 deer, whose sole resource is in hasty flight. Therefore 
 
 404 
 
 % 
 
 C\
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 lose no time — begone to the country; or rather, Zed- 
 ekiah Fish's vessel, the Good Hope, lies in the river, 
 bound for Massachusetts — take the wings of the morn- 
 ing, and begone; she can fail down to Gravesend with 
 the tide.' 
 
 'And leave to thee, brother Christian,' said Bridge- 
 north, ' the charge of my fortune and my daughter? No, 
 brother; my opinion of your good faith must be re- 
 established ere I again trust thee.' 
 
 ' Go thy ways, then, for a suspicious fool,' said Christ- 
 ian, suppressing his strong desire to use language more 
 offensive; 'or rather stay where thou art, and take thy 
 chance of the gallows ! ' 
 
 'It is appointed to all men to die once,' said Bridge- 
 north; 'my life hath been a living death. My fairest 
 boughs have been stripped by the axe of the forester; 
 that which survives must, if it shall blossom, be grafted 
 elsewhere, and at a distance from my aged trunk. The 
 sooner, then, the root feels the axe, the stroke is more 
 welcome. I had been pleased, indeed, had I been called 
 to bringing yonder licentious court to a purer character, 
 and relieving the yoke of the suffering people of God. 
 That youth too — son to that precious woman to whom 
 I owe the last tie that feebly links my wearied spirit to 
 humanity — could I have travailed with him in the 
 good cause ! But that, with all my other hopes, is broken 
 for ever; and since I am not worthy to be an instrument 
 in so great a work, I have little desire to abide longer in 
 this vale of sorrow.' 
 
 * Farewell, then, desponding fool!' said Christian, un- 
 able, with all his calmness, any longer to suppress his 
 contempt for the resigned and hopeless predestinarian. 
 
 40.S
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *That fate should have clogged me with such confed- 
 erates!' he muttered, as he left the apartment. 'This 
 bigoted fool is now nearly irreclaimable. I must to 
 Zarah; for she, or no one, must carry us through these 
 straits. If I can but soothe her sullen temper, and excite 
 her vanity to action, betwixt her address, the King's 
 partiality for the duke, Buckingham's matchless effront- 
 ery, and my own hand upon the helm, we may yet wea- 
 ther the tempest that darkens around us. But what we 
 do must be hastily done.' 
 
 In another apartment he found the person he sought 
 — the same who visited the Duke of Buckingham's 
 harem, and, having relieved Alice Bridgenorth from her 
 confiinement there, had occupied her place, as has been 
 already narrated, or rather intimated. She was now 
 much more plainly attired than when she had tantalised 
 the duke with her presence; but her dress had still 
 something of the Oriental character, which corresponded 
 with the dark complexion and quick eye of the wearer. 
 She had the kerchief at her eyes as Christian entered the 
 apartment, but suddenly withdrew it, and, flashing on 
 him a glance of scorn and indignation, asked him what 
 he meant by intruding where his company was ahke un- 
 sought for and undesired. 
 
 *A proper question,' said Christian, 'from a slave to 
 her master!' 
 
 'Rather say, a proper question, and of all questions 
 the most proper, from a mistress to her slave! Know 
 you not, that from the hour in which you discovered 
 your ineffable baseness, you have made me mistress of 
 your lot? While you seemed but a demon of vengeance, 
 you commanded terror, and to good purpose; but such 
 
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 a foul fiend as thou hast of late shown thyself — such 
 a very worthless, base trickster of the devil — such a 
 sordid, grovelling imp of perdition, can gain nothing but 
 scorn from a soul like mine.' 
 
 'Gallantly mouthed,' said Christian, 'and with good 
 emphasis.' 
 
 *Yes,' answered Zarah; *I can speak; sometimes I can 
 also be mute, and that no one knows better than thou.' 
 
 'Thou art a spoiled child, Zarah, and dost but abuse 
 the indulgence I entertain for your freakish humour,' 
 replied Christian ; ' thy wits have been disturbed since 
 ever you landed in England, and all for the sake of one 
 who cares for thee no more than for the most worthless 
 object who walks the streets, amongst whom he left you 
 to engage in a brawl for one he loved better.' 
 
 'It is no matter,' said Zarah, obviously repressing 
 very bitter emotion — 'it signifies not that he loves 
 another better; there is none — no, none — that ever 
 did or can love him so well.' 
 
 'I pity you, Zarah!' said Christian, with some scorn. 
 
 'I deserve your pity,' she replied, 'were your pity 
 worth my accepting. Whom have I to thank for my 
 wretchedness but you? You bred me up in thirst of 
 vengeance, ere I knew that good and evil were anything 
 better than names; to gain your applause and to gratify 
 the vanity you had excited, I have for years undergone 
 a penance from which a thousand would have shrunk.' 
 
 'A thousand, Zarah!' answered Christian; 'ay, a 
 hundred thousand, and a million to boot: the creature 
 is not on earth, being mere mortal woman, that would 
 have undergone the thirtieth part of thy self-denial.' 
 
 'I believe it,' said Zarah, drawing up her slight but 
 407
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 elegant figure — *I believe it; I have gone through a 
 trial that few indeed could have sustained. I have re- 
 nounced the dear intercourse of my kind ; compelled my 
 tongue only to utter, like that of a spy, the knowledge 
 which my ear had only collected as a base eavesdropper. 
 This I have done for years — for years; and all for the 
 sake of your private applause, and the hope of vengeance 
 on a woman who, if she did ill in murdering my father, 
 has been bitterly repaid by nourishing a serpent in her 
 bosom, that had the tooth, but not the deafened ear, 
 of the adder.' 
 
 'Well — well — well,' reiterated Christian; 'and had 
 you not your reward in my approbation — in the con- 
 sciousness of your own unequalled dexterity, by which, 
 superior to anything of thy sex that history has ever 
 known, you endured what woman never before endured 
 — insolence without notice, admiration without answer, 
 and sarcasm without reply? ' 
 
 'Not without reply!' said Zarah, fiercely. 'Gave not 
 nature to my feelings a course of expression more im- 
 pressive than words? and did not those tremble at my 
 shrieks who would have little minded my entreaties or 
 my complaints? And my proud lady, who sauced her 
 charities with the taunts she thought I heard not — 
 she was justly paid by the passing of her dearest and 
 most secret concerns into the hands of her mortal enemy; 
 and the vain earl — yet he was a thing as insignificant 
 as the plume that nodded in his cap; and the maidens 
 and ladies who taimted me — I had, or can easily have, 
 my revenge upon them. But there is one,'' she added, 
 looking upward, 'who never taunted me — one whose 
 generous feelings could treat the poor dumb girl even 
 
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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 as his sister — who never spoke word of her but it was 
 to excuse or defend ; and you tell me I must not love him, 
 and that it is madness to love him ! I will be mad then, 
 for I will love him till the latest breath of my life ! ' 
 
 ' Think but an instant, silly girl — silly but in one 
 respect, since in all others thou mayst brave the world 
 of women. Think that I have proposed to thee, for 
 the loss of this hopeless affection, a career so brilliant! 
 Think only that it rests with thyself to be the wife — the 
 wedded wife — of the princely Buckingham ! With my 
 talents, with thy wit and beauty, with his passionate 
 love of these attributes, a short space might rank you 
 among England's princesses. Be but guided by me; he 
 is now at a deadly pass, needs every assistance to retrieve 
 his fortunes — above all, that which we alone can render 
 him. Put yourself under my conduct, and not fate itself 
 shall prevent your wearing a duchess's coronet.' 
 
 *A coronet of thistle-down, entwined with thistle- 
 leaves,' said Zarah. 'I know not a slighter thing than 
 your Buckingham ! I saw him at your request — saw 
 him when, as a man, he should have shown himself gen- 
 erous and noble. I stood the proof at your desire, for I 
 laugh at those dangers from which the poor blushing 
 wallers of my sex shrink and withdraw themselves. 
 What did I find him? a poor wavering voluptuary — 
 his nearest attempt to passion Hke the fire on a wretched 
 stubble-field, that may singe, indeed, or smoke, but can 
 neither warm nor devour. Christian ! were his coronet 
 at my feet this moment, I would sooner take up a crown 
 of gilded gingerbread than extend my hand to raise it.' 
 
 'You are mad, Zarah — with all your taste and talent, 
 you are utterly mad! But let Buckingham pass. Do 
 
 409
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 you owe me nothing on this emergency — nothing to one 
 who rescued you from the cruelty of your owner, the 
 posture-master, to place you in ease and affluence? ' 
 
 'Christian,' she replied, 'I owe you much. Had I not 
 felt I did so, I would, as I have been often tempted to 
 do, have denounced thee to the fierce countess, who 
 would have gibbeted you on her feudal walls of Castle 
 Rushin,and bid your family seek redress from the eagles, 
 that would long since have thatched their nest with your 
 hair, and fed their young ospreys with your flesh.' 
 
 'I am truly glad you have had so much forbearance 
 for me,' answered Christian. 
 
 'I have it in truth and in sincerity,' replied Zarah, 
 'not for your benefits to me; such as they were, they 
 were every one interested, and conferred from the most 
 selfish considerations. I have overpaid them a thousand 
 times by the devotion to your will which I have dis- 
 played at the greatest personal risk. But till of late I 
 respected your powers of mind — your inimitable com- 
 mand of passion — the force of intellect which I have 
 ever seen you exercise over all others, from the bigot 
 Bridgenorth to the debauched Buckingham — in that, 
 indeed, I have recognised my master.' 
 
 'And those powers,' said Christian, 'are unlimited as 
 ever ; and with thy assistance, thou shalt see the strong- 
 est meshes that the laws of ci\dl society ever wove to 
 limit the natural dignity of man broke asunder like a 
 spider's web.' 
 
 She paused and answered, ' While a noble motive fired 
 thee — ay, a noble motive, though irregular — for I was 
 born to gaze on the sun which the pale daughters of 
 Europe shrink from — I could serve thee: I could have 
 
 410
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 followed, while revenge or ambition had guided thee — 
 but love of wealth, and by what means acquired! What 
 sympathy can I hold with that? Wouldst thou not have 
 pandered to the lust of the King, though the object was 
 thine own orphan niece? You smile. Smile again when 
 I ask you whether you meant not my own prostitution 
 when you charged me to remain in the house of that 
 wretched Buckingham. Smile at that question, and by 
 Heaven I stab you to the heart!' And she thrust her 
 hand into her bosom, and partly showed the hilt of a 
 small poniard. 
 
 'And if I smile,' said Christian, 'it is but in scorn of so 
 odious an accusation. Girl, I will not tell thee the rea- 
 son, but there exists not on earth the living thing over 
 whose safety and honour I would keep watch as over 
 thine. Buckingham's wife, indeed, I wished thee; and 
 through thy own beauty and thy wit, I doubted not to 
 bring the match to pass.' 
 
 'Vain flatterer,' said Zarah, yet seeming soothed even 
 by the flattery which she scoffed at, 'you would per- 
 suade me that it was honourable love which you expected 
 the duke was to have offered me. How durst you urge 
 so gross a deception, to which time, place, and circum- 
 stances gave the lie? How dare you now again mention 
 it when you well know that at the time you mention the 
 duchess was still in life? ' 
 
 'In hfe, but on her death-bed,' said Christian; 'and 
 for time, place, and circumstance, had your virtue, my 
 Zarah, depended on these, how couldst thou have been 
 the creature thou art? I knew thee all-sufhcient to bid 
 him defiance, else — for thou art dearer to me than thou 
 thinkest — I had not risked thee to win the Duke of 
 
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 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Buckingham — ay, and the kingdom of England to 
 boot. So now, wilt thou be ruled and go on with me?' 
 
 Zarah, or Fenella, for our readers must have been long 
 aware of the identity of these two personages, cast down 
 her eyes, and was silent for a long time. 'Christian,' 
 she said at last, in a solemn voice, ' if my ideas of right 
 and of wrong be wild and incoherent, I owe it, first, to 
 the wild fever which my native sun communicated to my 
 veins; next, to my childhood, trained amidst the shifts, 
 tricks, and feats of jugglers and mountebanks; and then, 
 to a youth of fraud and deception, through the course 
 thou didst prescribe me, in which I might, indeed, hear 
 everything, but communicate with no one. The last 
 cause of my wild errors, if such they are, originates, O 
 Christian, with you alone, by whose intrigues I was 
 placed with yonder lady, and who taught me that to 
 revenge my father's death was my first great duty on 
 earth, and that I was bound by nature to hate and in- 
 jure her by whom I was fed and fostered, though as she 
 would have fed and caressed a dog or any other mute 
 animal. I also think — for I will deal fairly with you — 
 that you had not so easily detected your niece in the 
 child whose suprising agility was making yonder brutal 
 mountebank's fortune, nor so readily induced him to 
 part with his bond-slave, had you not, for your own 
 purposes, placed me under his charge, and reserved the 
 privilege of claiming me when you pleased. I could not, 
 under any other tuition, have identified myself with the 
 personage of a mute, which it has been your desire that 
 I should perform through life.' 
 
 'You do me injustice, Zarah,' said Christian. 'I found 
 you capable of discharging, to an uncommon degree, a 
 
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 I
 
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 task necessary to the avenging of your father's death; 
 I consecrated you to it, as I consecrated my own hfe and 
 hopes; and you held the duty sacred till these mad feel- 
 ings towards a youth who loves your cousin — ' 
 
 'Who — loves — my — cousin!' repeated Zarah (for 
 we will continue to call her by her real name), slowly, 
 and as if the words dropped unconsciously from her lips. 
 'Well — be it so! Man of many wiles, I will follow thy 
 course for a little, a very httle, farther; but take heed, 
 teaze me not with remonstrances against the treasure 
 of my secret thoughts — I mean my most hopeless affec- 
 tion to Julian Peveril — and bring me not as an assist- 
 ant to any snare which you may design to cast around 
 him. You and your duke shall rue the hour most bit- 
 terly in which you provoke me. You may suppose you 
 have me in your power; but remember, the snakes of 
 my burning climate are never so fatal as when you grasp 
 them.' 
 
 *I care not for these Peverils,' said Christian — 'I 
 care not for their fate a poor straw, unless where it bears 
 on that of the destined woman, whose hands are red in 
 your father's blood. BeHeve me, I can divide her fate 
 and theirs. I will explain to you how. And for the duke, 
 he may pass among men of the town for wit, and among 
 soldiers for valour, among courtiers for manners and for 
 form; and why, with his high rank and immense fortune, 
 you should throw away an opportunity which, as I could 
 now improve it — ' 
 
 'Speak not of it,' said Zarah, 'if thou wouldst have our 
 truce — remember it is no peace — if, I say, thou wouldst 
 have our truce grow to be an hour old.' 
 
 'This, then,' said Christian, with a last effort to work 
 
 413
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 upon the vanity of this singular being, 'is she who pre- 
 tended such superiority to human passion, that she 
 could walk indifferently and unmoved through the halls 
 of the prosperous and the prison-cells of the captive, 
 unknowing and unknown — sympathising neither with 
 the pleasures of the one nor the woes of the other, but 
 advancing with sure, though silent, steps her own plans, 
 in despite and regardless of either — !' 
 
 'My own plans!' said Zarah. ^Thy plans, Christian 
 — thy plans of extorting from the surprised prisoners 
 means whereby to convict them — thine own plans, 
 formed with those more powerful than thyself, to sound 
 men's secrets, and by using them as matter of accusa- 
 tion, to keep up the great delusion of the nation.' 
 
 'Such access was indeed given you as my agent,' said 
 Christian, 'and for advancing a great national change. 
 But how did you use it? — to advance your own insane 
 passion/ 
 
 'Insane!' said Zarah. 'Had he been less than insane 
 whom I addressed, he and I had ere now been far from the 
 toils which you have pitched for us both. I had means 
 prepared for everything; and ere this the shores of 
 Britain had been lost to our sight for ever.' 
 
 'The miserable dwarf, too,' said Christian. 'Was it 
 worthy of you to delude that poor creature with flatter- 
 ing visions — lull him asleep with drugs? Was that my 
 doing? ' 
 
 'He was my destined tool,' said Zarah, haughtily. 'I 
 remembered your lessons too well not to use him as such. 
 Yet scorn him not too much. I tell you, that yon very 
 miserable dwarf, whom I made my sport in the prison — 
 yon wretched abortion of nature I would select for a 
 
 414
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 husband ere I would marry your Buckingham; the vain 
 and imbecile pigmy has yet the warm heart and noble 
 feelings that a man should hold his highest honour.' 
 
 ' In God's name, then, take your own way,' said Christ- 
 ian; 'and, for my sake, let never man hereafter limit 
 a woman in the use of her tongue, since he must make it 
 amply up to her in allowing her the privilege of her own 
 will. Who would have thought it? But the colt has 
 slipped the bridle, and I must needs follow, since I 
 cannot guide her.' 
 
 Our narrative returns to the court of King Charles at 
 WhitehaU.
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII 
 
 ButOl 
 What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel, 
 Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature? 
 Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, 
 That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, 
 That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, 
 Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy usel 
 
 Benry V. 
 
 At no period of his life, not even when that life was in 
 imminent danger, did the constitutional gaiety of Charles 
 seem more overclouded than when waiting for the return 
 of Chiffinch with the Duke of Buckingham. His mind 
 revolted at the idea that the person to whom he had 
 been so particularly indulgent, and whom he had se- 
 lected as the friend of his Hghter hours and amusements, 
 should prove capable of having tampered with a plot 
 apparently directed against his Hberty and life. He 
 more than once examined the dwarf anew, but could ex- 
 tract nothing more than his first narrative contained. 
 The apparition of the female to him in the cell of New- 
 gate, he described in such fanciful and romantic colours, 
 that the King could not help thinking the poor man's 
 head a little turned; and, as nothing was found in the 
 kettledrum and other musical instruments brought for 
 the use of the duke's band of foreigners, he nourished 
 some slight hope that the whole plan might be either a 
 mere jest or that the idea of an actual conspiracy was 
 founded in mistake. 
 
 The persons who had been despatched to watch the 
 motions of Mr. Weiver's congregation brought back 
 
 416
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 word that they had quietly dispersed. It was known, at 
 the same time, that they had met in arms, but this 
 augured no particular design of aggression at a time 
 when all true Protestants conceived themselves in 
 danger of immediate massacre; when the fathers of the 
 city had repeatedly called out the train-bands, and 
 alarmed the citizens of London, under the idea of an 
 instant insurrection of the Catholics; and when, to sum 
 the whole up in the emphatic words of an alderman of 
 the day, there was a general belief that they would all 
 waken some unhappy morning with their throats cut. 
 Who was to do these dire deeds it was more difficult to 
 suppose; but all admitted the possibility that they might 
 be achieved, since one justice of the peace was already 
 murdered. There was, therefore, no inference of hostile 
 intentions against the state to be decidedly derived from 
 a congregation of Protestants par excellence, military 
 from old associations, bringing their arms with them 
 to a place of worship, in the midst of a panic so uni- 
 versal. 
 
 Neither did the violent language of the minister, sup- 
 posing that to be proved, absolutely infer meditated 
 violence. The favourite parables of the preachers, and 
 the metaphors and ornaments which they selected, were 
 at all times of a military cast; and the taking the king- 
 dom of Heaven by storm, a strong and beautiful meta- 
 phor when used generally, as in Scripture, was detailed 
 in their sermons in all the technical language of the at- 
 tack and defence of a fortified place. The danger, in 
 short, whatever might have been its actual degree, had 
 disappeared as suddenly as a bubble upon the water, 
 when broken by a casual touch, and had left as little 
 
 28 417
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 trace behind it. It became, therefore, matter of much 
 doubt whether it had ever actually existed. 
 
 While various reports were making from without, and 
 while their tenor was discussed by the King, and such 
 nobles and statesmen as he thought proper to consult 
 on the occasion, a gradual sadness and anxiety mingled 
 with, and finally silenced, the mirth of the evening. All 
 became sensible that something unusual was going for- 
 ward; and the unwonted distance which Charles main- 
 tained from his guests, while it added greatly to the dul- 
 ness that began to predominate in the presence-chamber, 
 gave intimation that something unusual was labouring 
 in the King's mind. 
 
 Thus gaming was neglected; the music was silent, or 
 played without being heard; gallants ceased to make 
 compliments, and ladies to expect them; and a sort of 
 apprehensive curiosity pervaded the circle. Each asked 
 the others why they were grave; and no answer was 
 returned anymore than could have been rendered by 
 a herd of cattle instinctively disturbed by the approach 
 of a thunderstorm. 
 
 To add to the general apprehension, it began to be 
 whispered that one or two of the guests, who were 
 desirous of leaving the palace, had been informed 
 no one could be permitted to retire until the general 
 hour of dismissal. And these, gliding back into the 
 hall, communicated in whispers that the sentinels at 
 the gates were doubled, and that there was a troop 
 of the Horse Guards drawn up in the court — circum- 
 stances so unusual as to excite the most anxious curi- 
 osity. 
 
 Such was the state of the court when wheels were 
 
 418
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 heard without, and the bustle which took place denoted 
 the arrival of some person of consequence. 
 
 'Here comes Chiffinch,' said the King, 'with his prey 
 in his clutch.' 
 
 It was indeed the Duke of Buckingham; nor did he 
 approach the royal presence without emotion. On enter- 
 ing the court, the flambeaux which were borne around 
 the carriage gleamed on the scarlet coats, laced hats, 
 and drawn broadswords of the Horse Guards — a sight 
 unusual, and calculated to strike terror into a conscience 
 which was none of the clearest. 
 
 The duke alighted from the carriage, and only said 
 to the officer whom he saw upon duty, 'You are late 
 under arms to-night. Captain Carleton.' 
 
 ' Such are our orders, sir,' answered Carleton, with mil- 
 itary brevity; and then commanded the four dismounted 
 sentinels at the under gate to make way for the Duke 
 of Buckingham. His Grace had no sooner entered than 
 he heard behind him the command, 'Move close up, 
 sentinels — closer yet to the gate.' And he felt as if 
 all chance of rescue were excluded by the sound. 
 
 As he advanced up the grand staircase, there were 
 other symptoms of alarm and precaution. The Yeomen 
 of the Guard were mustered in unusual numbers, and 
 carried carabines instead of their halberds; and the gen- 
 tlemen pensioners, with their partizans, appeared also 
 in proportional force. In short, all that sort of defence 
 which the royal household possesses within itself 
 seemed, for some hasty and urgent reason, to have been 
 placed under arms and upon duty. 
 
 Buckingham ascended the royal staircase with an eye 
 attentive to these preparations, and a step steady and 
 
 419
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 slow, as if he counted each step on which he trode. 
 'Who,' he asked himself, 'shall ensure Christian's fidel- 
 ity? Let him but stand fast and we are secure; other- 
 wise — ' 
 
 As he shaped the alternative, he entered the presence- 
 chamber. 
 
 The King stood in the midst of the apartment, sur- 
 rounded by the personages with whom he had been con- 
 sulting. The rest of the brilliant assembly, scattered into 
 groups, looked on at some distance. All were silent when 
 Buckingham entered, in hopes of receiving some explan- 
 ation of the mysteries of the evening. All bent forward, 
 though etiquette forbade them to advance, to catch, if 
 possible, something of what was about to pass betwixt 
 the King and his intriguing statesman. At the same 
 time, those counsellors who stood around Charles drew 
 back on either side, so as to permit the duke to pay his 
 respects to his Majesty in the usual form. He went 
 through the ceremonial with his accustomed grace, but 
 was received by Charles with much imwonted gravity. 
 
 * We have waited for you for some time, my lord duke. 
 It is long since Chiffinch left us, to request your attend- 
 ance here. I see you are elaborately dressed. Your 
 toilette was needless on the present occasion.' 
 
 'Needless to the splendour of your Majesty's court,' 
 said the duke, 'but not needless on my part. This 
 chanced to be Black Monday at York Place, and my club 
 of Pendahles were in full glee when your Majesty's sum- 
 mons arrived. I could not be in the company of Ogle, 
 Maniduc, Dawson, and so forth, but what I must needs 
 make some preparation, and some ablution, ere entering 
 the circle here.' 
 
 420
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 *I trust the purification will be complete/ said the 
 King, without any tendency to the smile which always 
 softened features that, ungilded by its influence, were 
 dark, harsh, and even severe. 'We wished to ask your 
 Grace concerning the import of a sort of musical mask 
 which you designed us here, but which miscarried, as 
 we are given to understand.' 
 
 'It must have been a great miscarriage indeed,' said 
 the duke, 'since your Majesty looks so serious on it. 
 I thought to have done your Majesty a pleasure, as I 
 have seen you condescend to be pleased with such pass- 
 ages, by sending the contents of that bass-viol; but I 
 fear the jest has been unacceptable — I fear the fire- 
 works may have done mischief.' 
 
 'Not the mischief they were designed for, perhaps,' 
 said the King, gravely; 'you see, my lord, we are all alive 
 and unsinged.' 
 
 'Long may your Majesty remain so,' said the duke; 
 *yet I see that there is something misconstrued on my 
 part; it must be a matter unpardonable, however little 
 intended, since it hath displeased so indulgent a master.' 
 
 'Too indulgent a master, indeed, Buckingham,' re- 
 plied the King; 'and the fruit of my indulgence has been 
 to change loyal men into traitors.' 
 
 'May it please your Majesty, I cannot understand 
 this,' said the duke. 
 
 'Follow us, my lord,' answered Charles, 'and we will 
 endeavour to explain our meaning.' 
 
 Attended by the same lords who stood around him, 
 and followed by the Duke of Buckingham, on whom all 
 eyes were fixed, Charles retired into the same cabinet 
 which had been the scene of repeated consultations in 
 
 421
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the course of the evening. There, leaning with his arms 
 crossed on the back of an easy-chair, Charles proceeded 
 to interrogate the suspected nobleman. 
 
 ' Let us be plain with each other. Speak out, Bucking- 
 ham. What, in one word, was to have been the regale 
 intended for us this evening? ' 
 
 'A petty mask, my lord. I had destined a little danc- 
 ing-girl to come out of that instrument, who, I thought, 
 would have performed to your Majesty's liking; a few 
 Chinese fireworks there were, which, thinking the enter- 
 tainment was to have taken place in the marble hall, 
 might, I hoped, have been discharged with good effect, 
 and without the slightest alarm, at the first appearance 
 of my Httle sorceress, and were designed to have masked, 
 as it were, her entrance upon the stage. I hope there 
 have been no perukes singed, no ladies frightened, no 
 hopes of noble descent interrupted by my ill-fancied 
 jest? ' 
 
 *We have seen no such fireworks, my lord; and your 
 female dancer, of whom we now hear for the first time, 
 came forth in the form of our old acquaintance Geoffrey 
 Hudson, whose dancing days are surely ended.' 
 
 * Your Majesty surprises me ! I beseech you, let Christ- 
 ian be sent for — Edward Christian; he will be found 
 lodging in a large old house near Sharper the cutler's, in 
 the Strand. As I Hve by bread, sire, I trusted him with 
 the arrangement of this matter, as indeed the dancing- 
 girl was his property. If he has done aught to dishonour 
 my concert or disparage my character, he shall die under 
 the baton.' 
 
 'It is singular,' said the King, 'and I have often ob- 
 served it, that this fellow Christian bears the blame of 
 
 422
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 all men's enormities: he performs the part which in a 
 great family is usually assigned to that mischief-doing 
 personage, Nobody. When ChifSnch blunders, he al- 
 ways quotes Christian. When Shefi&eld writes a lam- 
 poon, I am sure to hear of Christian having corrected, 
 or copied, or dispersed it : he is the dme damme of every 
 one about my court — the scapegoat, who is to carry 
 away all their iniquities; and he will have a cruel load 
 to bear into the wilderness. But for Buckingham's sins, 
 in particular, he is the regular and uniform sponsor; 
 and I am convinced his Grace expects Christian should 
 suffer every penalty which he has incurred in this world 
 or the next.' 
 
 'Not so,' with the deepest reverence repHed the duke. 
 *I have no hope of being either hanged or damned by 
 proxy ; but it is clear some one hath tampered with and 
 altered my device. If I am accused of aught, let me at 
 least hear the charge and see my accuser.' 
 
 'That is but fair,' said the King. 'Bring our little 
 friend from behind the chimney-board.' Hudson being 
 accordingly produced, he continued, 'There stands the 
 Duke of Buckingham. Repeat before him the tale you 
 told us. Let him hear what were those contents of the 
 bass-viol which were removed that you might enter 
 it. Be not afraid of any one, but speak the truth 
 boldly.' 
 
 'May it please your Majesty,' said Hudson, 'fear is a 
 thing unknown to me.' 
 
 'His body has no room to hold such a passion; or 
 there is too little of it to be worth fearing for,' said 
 Buckingham. 'But let him speak.' 
 
 Ere Hudson had completed his tale, Buckingham in- 
 
 423
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 terrupted him by exclaiming, 'Is it possible that I can 
 be suspected by your Majesty on the word of this pitiful 
 variety of the baboon tribe? ' 
 
 'Villain lord, I appeal thee to the combat!' said the 
 little man, highly offended at the appellation thus be- 
 stowed on him. 
 
 'La you there now!' said the duke. 'The httle ani- 
 mal is quite crazed, and defies a man who need ask no 
 other weapon than a corking-pin to run him through the 
 lungs, and whose single kick could hoist him from Dover 
 to Calais without yacht or wherry. And what can you 
 expect from an idiot, who is engoue of a common rope- 
 dancing girl, that capered on a packthread at Ghent 
 in Flanders, unless they were to club their talents to set 
 up a booth at Bartholomew Fair? Is it not plain that, 
 supposing the little animal is not malicious, as indeed 
 his whole kind bear a general and most cankered malice 
 against those who have the ordinary proportions of hu- 
 manity — grant, I say, that this were not a malicious 
 falsehood of his, why, what does it amount to? That 
 he has mistaken squibs and Chinese crackers for arms. 
 He says not he himself touched or handled them; and 
 judging by the sight alone, I question if the infirm old 
 creature, when any whim or preconception hath posses- 
 sion of his noddle, can distinguish betwixt a blunderbuss 
 and a black-pudding.' 
 
 The horrible clamour which the dwarf made so soon 
 as he heard this disparagement of his military skill, the 
 haste with which he blundered out a detail of his warlike 
 experiences, and the absurd grimaces which he made in 
 order to enforce his story, provoked not only the risibil- 
 ity of Charles, but even of the statesmen around him, 
 
 424
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 and added absurdity to the motley complexion of the 
 scene. 
 
 The King terminated his dispute by commanding the 
 dwarf to withdraw. 
 
 A more regular discussion of his evidence was then re- 
 sumed, and Ormond was the first who pointed out that 
 it went farther than had been noticed, since the Httle man 
 had mentioned a certain extraordinary and treasonable 
 conversation held by the duke's dependants, by whom 
 he had been conveyed to the palace, 
 
 *I am sure not to lack my Lord of Ormond 's good 
 word,' said the duke, scornfully; 'but I defy him alike 
 and all my other enemies, and shall find it easy to show 
 that this alleged conspiracy, if any grounds for it at all 
 exist, is a mere sham plot, got up to turn the odium 
 justly attached to the Papists upon the Protestants. 
 Here is a half-hanged creature, who, on the very day 
 he escapes from the gallows, which many believe was his 
 most deserved destiny, comes to take away the reputa- 
 tion of a Protestant peer. And on what? On the treason- 
 able conversation of three or four German fiddlers, 
 heard through the sound-holes of a violoncello, and 
 that, too, when the creature was incased in it, and 
 mounted on a man's shoulders! The urchin, too, in 
 repeating their language, shows he understands Ger- 
 man as little as my horse does; and if he did rightly hear, 
 truly comprehend, and accurately report what they said, 
 still, is my honour to be touched by the language held 
 by such persons as these are, with whom I have never 
 communicated, otherwise than men of my rank do with 
 those of their calling and capacity? Pardon me, sire, 
 if I presume to say that the profound statesmen who 
 
 425
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 endeavoured to stifle the Popish conspiracy by the pre- 
 tended Meal-tub Plot will take little more credit by their 
 figments about fiddles and concertos.' 
 
 The assistant counsellors looked at each other; and 
 Charles turned on his heel and walked through the room 
 with long steps. 
 
 At this period the Peverils, father and son, were an- 
 nounced to have reached the palace, and were ordered 
 into the royal presence. 
 
 These gentlemen had received the royal mandate at a 
 moment of great interest. After being dismissed from 
 their confinement by the elder Bridgenorth, in the man- 
 ner and upon the terms which the reader must have 
 gathered from the conversation of the latter with Chris- 
 tian, they reached the lodgings of Lady Peveril, who 
 awaited them with joy, mingled with terror and uncer- 
 tainty. The news of the acquittal had reached her by 
 the exertions of the faithful Lance Outram, but her mind 
 had been since harassed by the long delay of their ap- 
 pearance, and rumours of disturbances which had taken 
 place in Fleet Street and in the Strand. 
 
 When the first rapturous meeting was over, Lady 
 Peveril, with an anxious look towards her son, as if 
 recommending caution, said she was now about to pre- 
 sent to him the daughter of an old friend, whom he had 
 never (there was an emphasis on the word) seen before. 
 'This young lady,' she continued, 'was the only child 
 of Colonel Mitford, in North Wales, who had sent her 
 to remain under her guardianship for an interval, find- 
 ing himself unequal to attempt the task of her educa- 
 tion.' 
 
 'Ay — ay,' said Sir Geoffrey, 'Dick Mitford must be 
 426
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 old now — beyond the threescore and ten, I think. He 
 was no chicken, though a cock of the game, when he 
 joined the Marquis of Hertford at Namptwich with two 
 hundred wild Welshmen. Before George, Julian, I love 
 that girl as if she was my own flesh and blood! Lady 
 Peveril would never have got through this work without 
 her. And Dick Mitford sent me a thousand pieces, too, 
 in excellent time, when there was scarce a cross to keep 
 the devil from dancing in our pockets, much more for 
 these law-doings. I used it without scruple, for there is 
 wood ready to be cut at Martindale when we get down 
 there, and Dick Mitford knows I would have done the 
 hke for him. Strange that he should have been the only 
 one of my friends to reflect I might want a few pieces.' 
 Whilst Sir Geoffrey thus run on, the meeting betwixt 
 AHce and Julian Peveril was accompKshed, without any 
 particular notice on his side, except to say, 'Kiss her, 
 Julian — kiss her. What the devil ! is that the way you 
 learned to accost a lady at the Isle of Man, as if her Hps 
 were a red-hot horseshoe? And do not you be offended, 
 my pretty one ; Julian is naturally bashful, and has been 
 bred by an old lady, but you will find him, by and by, 
 as gallant as thou hast found me, my princess. And 
 now. Dame Peveril, to dinner — to dinner! The old fox 
 must have his belly timber, though the hounds have 
 been after him the whole day.' 
 
 Lance, whose joyous congratulations were next to be 
 undergone, had the consideration to cut them short, in 
 order to provide a plain but hearty meal from the next 
 cook's shop, at which Julian sat like one enchanted be- 
 twixt his mistress and his mother. He easily conceived 
 that the last was the confidential friend to whom Bridge- 
 
 427
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 north had finally committed the charge of his daughter, 
 and his only anxiety now was to anticipate the confusion 
 that was likely to arise when her real parentage was 
 made known to his father. Wisely, however, he suffered 
 not these anticipations to interfere with the delight of 
 his present situation, in the course of which many slight 
 but delightful tokens of recognition were exchanged, 
 without censure, under the eye of Lady Peveril, under 
 cover of the boisterous mirth of the old baronet, who 
 spoke for two, ate for four, and drank wine for half a 
 dozen. His progress in the latter exercise might have 
 proceeded rather too far, had he not been interrupted by 
 a gentleman bearing the King's orders that he should 
 instantly attend upon the presence at Whitehall, and 
 bring his son along with him. 
 
 Lady Peveril was alarmed, and AUce grew pale with 
 sympathetic anxiety; but the old knight, who never saw 
 more than what lay straight before him, set it down to 
 the King's hasty anxiety to congratulate him on his es- 
 cape — an interest on his Majesty's part which he con- 
 sidered by no means extravagant, conscious that it was 
 reciprocal on his own side. It came upon him, indeed, 
 with the more joyful surprise, that he had received a 
 previous hint, ere he left the court of justice, that it 
 would be prudent in him to go down to Martindale be- 
 fore presenting himself at court — a restriction which 
 he supposed as repugnant to his Majesty's feelings as it 
 was to his own. 
 
 While he consulted with Lance Outram about clean- 
 ing his buff-belt and sword-hilt, as well as time admitted, 
 Lady Peveril had the means to give Julian more distinct 
 information, that AUce was under her protection by her 
 
 428
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 father's authority, and with his consent to their union, 
 if it could be accomplished. She added, that it was her 
 determination to employ the mediation of the Countess 
 of Derby to overcome the obstacles which might be 
 foreseen on the part of Sir Geoffrey.
 
 CHAPTER XLIX 
 
 In the King's name, 
 
 Let fall your swords and daggers t 
 
 Critic. 
 
 When the father and son entered the cabinet of audi- 
 ence, it was easily visible that Sir Geoffrey had obeyed 
 the summons as he woidd have done the trumpet's call 
 to horse; and his dishevelled grey locks and half-ar- 
 ranged dress, though they showed zeal and haste, such 
 as he would have used when Charles I called him to at- 
 tend a council of war, seemed rather indecorous in a 
 pacific drawing-room. He paused at the door of the 
 cabinet, but when the King called on him to advance, 
 came hastily forward, with every feeling of his earlier 
 and later life afloat and contending in his memory, threw 
 himself on his knees before the King, seized his hand, 
 and, without even an effort to speak, wept aloud. 
 Charles, who generally felt deeply so long as an impres- 
 sive object was before his eyes, indulged for a moment 
 the old man's rapture. 'My good Sir Geoffrey,' he 
 said, 'you have had some hard measure; we owe you 
 amends, and will find time to pay our debt.' 
 
 *No suffering — no debt,' said the old man. 'I cared 
 not what the rogues said of me ; I knew they could never 
 get twelve honest fellows to believe a word of their most 
 damnable Hes. I did long to beat them when they called 
 me traitor to your Majesty, that I confess. But to have 
 such an early opportunity of paying my duty to your 
 
 430
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 Majesty overpays it all. The villains would have per- 
 suaded me I ought not to come to court — aha ! ' 
 
 The Duke of Ormond perceived that the King col- 
 oured much; for in truth it was from the court that the 
 private intimation had been given to Sir Geoffrey to go 
 down to the country without appearing at Whitehall; 
 and he, moreover, suspected that the jolly old knight 
 had not risen from his dinner altogether dry-lipped, after 
 the fatigues of a day so agitating. 'My old friend,' he 
 whispered, 'you forget that your son is to be presented; 
 permit me to have that honour.' 
 
 'I crave your Grace's pardon humbly,' said Sir Geof- 
 frey, ' but it is an honour I design for myself, as I appre- 
 hend no one can so utterly surrender and dehver him 
 up to his Majesty's service as the father that begot him 
 is entitled to do. JuHan, come forward and kneel. Here 
 he is, please your Majesty — JuHan Peveril — a chip of 
 the old block — as stout, though scarce so tall, a tree 
 as the old trunk when at the freshest. Take him to you, 
 sir, for a faithful servant, a vendre et a prendre, as the 
 French say; if he fears fire or steel, axe or gallows, in 
 your Majesty's service, I renounce him — he is no son of 
 mine — I disown him, and he may go to the Isle of Man, 
 the Isle of Dogs, or the Isle of Devils, for what I care.' 
 
 Charles winked to Ormond, and having, with his 
 wonted courtesy, expressed his thorough conviction 
 that JuHan would imitate the loyalty of his ancestors, 
 and especially of his father, added, that he believed his 
 Grace of Ormond had something to communicate which 
 was of consequence to his service. Sir Geoffrey made his 
 military reverence at this hint, and marched off in the 
 rear of the duke, who proceeded to inquire of him con- 
 
 431
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 cerning the events of the day. Charles, in the mean- 
 while, having, in the first place, ascertained that the son 
 was not in the same genial condition with the father, 
 demanded and received from him a precise account of all 
 the proceedings subsequent to the trial. 
 
 JuHan, with the plainness and precision which such 
 a subject demanded, when treated in such a presence, 
 narrated all that had happened, down to the entrance of 
 Bridgenorth; and his Majesty was so much pleased with 
 his manner, that he congratulated Arlington on their 
 having gained the evidence of at least one man of sense 
 to these dark and mysterious events. But when Bridge- 
 north was brought upon the scene, Julian hesitated to 
 bestow a name upon him; and although he mentioned 
 the chapel which he had seen filled with men in arms, 
 and the violent language of the preacher, he added, with 
 earnestness, that notwithstanding all this, the men de- 
 parted without coming to any extremity, and had all left 
 the place before his father and he were set at hberty. 
 
 'And you retired quietly to your dinner in Fleet 
 Street, young man,' said the King, severely, 'without 
 giving a magistrate notice of the dangerous meeting 
 which was held in the vicinity of our palace, and who 
 did not conceal their intention of proceeding to extrem- 
 ities? ' 
 
 Peveril blushed and was silent. The King frowned, 
 and stepped aside to communicate with Ormond, who 
 reported that the father seemed to have known nothing 
 of the matter. 
 
 'And the son, I am sorry to say,' said the King, 'seems 
 more unwilling to speak the truth than I should have ex- 
 pected. We have all variety of evidence in this singular 
 
 432
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 investigation — a mad witness like the dwarf, a drunken 
 witness like the father, and now a dumb witness. Young 
 man,' he continued, addressing Julian, 'your behaviour 
 is less frank than I expected from your father's son. I 
 must know who this person is with whom you held such 
 familiar intercourse; you know him, I presume?' 
 
 Julian acknowledged that he did, but, kneeling on one 
 knee, entreated his Majesty's forgiveness for concealing 
 his name. 'He had been freed,' he said, 'from his con- 
 finement on promising to that effect.' 
 
 'That was a promise made, by your own account, 
 under compulsion,' answered the King, 'and I cannot 
 authorise your keeping it; it is your duty to speak the 
 truth. If you are afraid of Buckingham, the duke shall 
 withdraw.' 
 
 'I have no reason to fear the Duke of Buckingham,' 
 said Peveril; 'that I had an affair with one of his house- 
 hold was the man's own fault, and not mine.' 
 
 ' Odds-fish ! ' said the King, ' the light begins to break 
 in on me; I thought I remembered thy physiognomy. 
 Wert thou not the very fellow whom I met at Chiffinch's 
 yonder morning? The matter escaped me since; but 
 now I recollect thou saidst then that thou wert the son 
 of that jolly old three-bottle baronet yonder.' 
 
 'It is true,' said Julian, 'that I met your Majesty at 
 Master Chiffinch's, and I am afraid had the misfortune 
 to displease you ; but — ' 
 
 *No more of that, young man — no more of that. 
 But I recollect you had with you that beautiful dancing 
 siren. Buckingham, I will hold you gold to silver that 
 she was the intended tenant of that bass-fiddle? ' 
 
 'Your Majesty has rightly guessed it,' said the duke; 
 
 «8 433
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 'and I suspect she has put a trick upon me by substitut- 
 ing the dwarf in her place ; for Christian thinks — ' 
 
 'Damn Christian!' said the King, hastily. *I wish 
 they would bring him hither, that universal referee.' 
 And as the wish was uttered, Christian's arrival was an- 
 nounced. * Let him attend,' said the King. * But hark — 
 a thought strikes me. Here, Master Peveril — yonder 
 dancing maiden, that introduced you to us by the sin- 
 gular agility of her performance, is she not, by your 
 account, a dependant on the Countess of Derby?' 
 
 'I have known her such for years,' answered Julian. 
 
 'Then will we call the countess hither,' said the King. 
 *It is fit we should learn who this little fairy really is; 
 and if she be now so absolutely at the beck of Bucking- 
 ham and this Master Christian of his — why, I think 
 it would be but charity to let her ladyship know so 
 much, since I question if she will wish, in that case, to 
 retain her in her service. Besides,' he continued, speak- 
 ing apart, 'this Julian, to whom suspicion attaches in 
 these matters from his obstinate silence, is also of the 
 countess's household. We will sift this matter to the 
 bottom, and do justice to all.' 
 
 The Countess of Derby, hastily summoned, entered 
 the royal closet at one door, just as Christian and Za- 
 rah, or Fenella, were ushered in by the other. The old 
 knight of Martindale, who had ere this returned to the 
 presence, was scarce controlled, even by the signs which 
 she made, so much was he desirous of greeting his old 
 friend; but as Ormond laid a kind restraining hand upon 
 his arm, he was prevailed on to sit still. 
 
 The countess, after a deep reverence to the King, 
 acknowledged the rest of the nobility present by a 
 
 434
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 slighter reverence, smiled to Julian Peveril, and looked 
 with surprise at the unexpected apparition of Fenella. 
 Buckingham bit his lip, for he saw the introduction of 
 Lady Derby was Ukely to confuse and embroil every 
 preparation which he had arranged for his defence ; and 
 he stole a glance at Christian, whose eye, when fixed 
 on the countess, assumed the deadly sharpness which 
 sparkles in the adder's, while his cheek grew almost 
 black under the influence of strong emotion. 
 
 *Is there any one in this presence whom your lady- 
 ship recognises,' said the King graciously, 'besides your 
 old friends of Ormond and Arlington? ' 
 
 *I see, my liege, two worthy friends of my husband's 
 house,' repUed the countess — 'Sir Geoffrey Peveril and 
 his son, the latter a distinguished member of my son's 
 household.' 
 
 'Any one else?' continued the King. 
 
 'An unfortunate female of my family, who disap- 
 peared from the Island of Man at the same time when 
 JuHan Peveril left it upon business of importance. She 
 was thought to have fallen from the chff into the 
 sea.' 
 
 'Had your ladyship any reason to suspect — pardon 
 me,' said the King, 'for putting such a question — any 
 improper intimacy between Master Peveril and this 
 same female attendant?' 
 
 'My liege,' said the countess, colouring indignantly, 
 'my household is of reputation.' 
 
 'Nay, my lady, be not angry,' said the King; 'I did 
 but ask; such things will befall in the best regulated 
 famihes.' 
 
 'Not in mine, sire,' said the countess. 'Besides that, 
 
 435
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 in common pride and in common honesty, Julian Peveril 
 is incapable of intriguing with an unhappy creature, re- 
 moved by her misfortune almost beyond the limits of 
 humanity.' 
 
 Zarah looked at her, and compressed her lips, as if 
 to keep in the words that would fain break from 
 them. 
 
 'I know not how it is,' said the King. 'What your 
 ladyship says may be true in the main, yet men's tastes 
 have strange vagaries. This girl is lost in Man so soon 
 as the youth leaves it, and is found in St. James's Park, 
 bouncing and dancing like a fairy, so soon as he appears 
 in London.' 
 
 'Impossible!' said the countess; 'she cannot dance.' 
 
 'I believe,' said the Kjng, 'she can do more feats 
 than your ladyship either suspects or would approve 
 of.' 
 
 The countess drew up and was indignantly silent. 
 
 The King proceeded — 'No sooner is Peveril in New- 
 gate than, by the account of the venerable little gentle- 
 man, this merry maiden is even there also for company. 
 Now, without inquiring how she got in, I think char- 
 itably that she had better taste than to come there on 
 the dwarf's account. Ah ha! I think Master Julian is 
 touched in conscience! ' 
 
 Julian did indeed start as the King spoke, for it re- 
 minded him of the midnight visit in his cell. 
 
 The King looked fixedly at him, and then proceeded 
 — ' Well, gentlemen, Peveril is carried to his trial, and is 
 no sooner at liberty than we find him in the house where 
 the Duke of Buckingham was arranging what he calls a 
 musical mask. Egad, I hold it next to certain that this 
 
 436
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 wench put the change on his Grace, and popt the poor 
 dwarf into the bass-viol, reserving her own more precious 
 hours to be spent with Master Julian Peveril. Think 
 you not so. Sir Christian — you, the universal referee? 
 Is there any truth in this conjecture? ' 
 
 Christian stole a glance on Zarah, and read that in her 
 eye which embarrassed him. ' He did not know,' he said. 
 'He had indeed engaged this unrivalled performer to 
 take the proposed part in the mask; and she was to have 
 come forth in the midst of a shower of lambent fire, very 
 artificially prepared with perfumes, to overcome the 
 smell of the powder ; but he knew not why — excepting 
 that she was wilful and capricious, like all great geniuses 
 — she had certainly spoiled the concert by cramming in 
 that more bulky dwarf.' 
 
 *I should Uke,' said the King, 'to see this little 
 maiden stand forth and bear witness, in such manner 
 as she can express herself, on this mysterious matter. 
 Can any one here understand her mode of communica- 
 tion?' 
 
 Christian said he knew something of it since he had 
 become acquainted with her in London. The countess 
 spoke not till the King asked her, and then owned drily, 
 that * She had necessarily some habitual means of inter- 
 course with one who had been immediately about her 
 person for so many years.' 
 
 * I should think,' said Charles, 'that this same Master 
 Julian Peveril has the more direct key to her language, 
 after all we have heard.' 
 
 The King looked first at Peveril, who blushed like a 
 maiden at the inference which the King's remark im- 
 plied, and then suddenly turned his eyes on the supposed 
 
 437
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 mute, on whose cheek a faint colour was dying away. A 
 moment afterwards, at a signal from the countess, 
 Fenella, or Zarah, stepped forward, and having kneeled 
 down and kissed her lady's hand, stood with her arms 
 folded on her breast, with an humble air, as different 
 from that which she wore in the harem of the Duke of 
 Buckingham as that of a Magdalen from a Judith. Yet 
 this was the least show of her talent of versatiHty, for 
 so well did she play the part of the dumb girl, that Buck- 
 ingham, sharp as his discernment was, remained unde- 
 cided whether the creature which stood before him could 
 possibly be the same with her who had, in a different 
 dress, made such an impression on his imagination, or 
 indeed was the imperfect creature she now represented. 
 She had at once all that could mark the imperfection of 
 hearing, and all that could show the wonderful address 
 by which nature so often makes up for the deficiency. 
 There was the lip that trembled not at any sound ; the 
 seeming insensibility to the conversation which passed 
 around ; while, on the other hand, was the quick and vivid 
 glance, that seemed anxious to devour the meaning of 
 those sounds which she could gather no otherwise than 
 by the motion of the Hps. 
 
 Examined after her own fashion, Zarah confirmed the 
 tale of Christian in all its points, and admitted that she 
 had deranged the project laid for a mask, by placing the 
 dwarf in her own stead; the cause of her doing so she 
 declined to assign, and the countess pressed her no 
 farther. 
 
 'Everything tells to exculpate my Lord of Bucking- 
 ham,' said Charles, 'from so absurd an accusation: the 
 dwarf's testimony is too fantastic; that of the two Pever- 
 
 438
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 ils does not in the least affect the duke; that of the dumb 
 damsel completely contradicts the possibility of his 
 guilt. Methinks, my lords, we should acquaint him that 
 he stands acquitted of a complaint too ridiculous to have 
 ever been subjected to a more serious scrutiny than we 
 have hastily made upon this occasion.' 
 
 Arlington bowed in acquiescence; but Ormond spoke 
 plainly. * I should suffer, sire, in the opinion of the Duke 
 of Buckingham, brilliant as his talents are known to be, 
 should I say that I am satisfied in my own mind on this 
 occasion. But I subscribe to the spirit of the times; and 
 I agree it would be highly dangerous, on such accusa- 
 tions as we have been able to collect, to impeach the 
 character of a zealous Protestant like his Grace. Had 
 he been a Catholic, under such circumstances of sus- 
 picion, the Tower had been too good a prison for 
 him.' 
 
 Buckingham bowed to the Duke of Ormond, with a 
 meaning which even his triumph could not disguise. 
 ' Tu me la pagherai I ' he muttered, in a tone of deep and 
 abiding resentment; but the stout old Irishman, who 
 had long since braved his utmost wrath, cared little for 
 this expression of his displeasure. 
 
 The King then, signing to the other nobles to pass 
 into the pubHc apartments, stopped Buckingham as he 
 was about to follow them; and, when they were alone, 
 asked, with a significant tone, which brought all the 
 blood in the duke's veins into his countenance, ' When 
 was it, George, that your useful friend Colonel Blood ^ 
 became a musician? You are silent,' he said; 'do not 
 deny the charge, for yonder villain, once seen, is remem- 
 
 ^ See Note 22. 
 439
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 bered for ever. Down — down on your knees, George, 
 and acknowledge that you have abused my easy temper. 
 Seek for no apology — none will serve your turn. I saw 
 the man myself among your Germans, as you call them; 
 and you know what I must needs beheve from such a 
 circumstance.' 
 
 * Believe that I have been guilty — most guilty, my 
 liege and King,' said the duke, conscience-struck, and 
 kneeling down — ' believe that I was misguided — that 
 I was mad. Believe anything but that I was capable of 
 harming, or being accessary to harm, your person.' 
 
 'I do not believe it,' said the King; 'I think of you, 
 Villiers, as the companion of my dangers and my exile, 
 and am so far from supposing you mean worse than you 
 say, that I am convinced you acknowledge more than 
 you ever meant to attempt.' 
 
 'By all that is sacred,' said the duke, still kneeling, 
 * had I not been involved to the extent of life and fortune 
 with the villain Christian — ' 
 
 *Nay, if you bring Christian on the stage again,' said 
 the King, smiling, ' it is time for me to withdraw. Come, 
 Villiers, rise; I forgive thee, and only recommend one 
 act of penance, the curse you yourself bestowed on the 
 dog who bit you — marriage, and retirement to your 
 country-seat.' 
 
 The duke rose abashed, and followed the King into 
 the circle, which Charles entered, leaning on the shoulder 
 of his repentant peer ; to whom he showed so much coun- 
 tenance as led the most acute observers present to doubt 
 the possibility of there existing any real cause for the 
 surmises to the duke's prejudice. 
 
 The Countess of Derby had in the meanwhile con- 
 440
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 suited with the Duke of Ormond, with the Peverils, and 
 with her other friends; and, by their unanimous advice, 
 though with considerable difficulty, became satisfied 
 that to have thus shown herself at court was sufficient 
 to vindicate the honour of her house ; and that it was her 
 wisest course, after having done so, to retire to her in- 
 sular dominions, without further provoking the resent- 
 ment of a powerful faction. She took farewell of the 
 King in form, and demanded his permission to carry 
 back with her the helpless creature who had so strangely 
 escaped from her protection, into a world where her con- 
 dition rendered her so subject to every species of misfor- 
 tune. 
 
 'Will your ladyship forgive me?' said Charles. 'I 
 have studied your sex long — I am mistaken if your lit- 
 tle maiden is not as capable of caring for herself as any 
 of us.' 
 
 'Impossible!' said the countess. 
 
 'Possible, and most true,' whispered the King. 'I will 
 instantly convince you of the fact, though the experi- 
 ment is too delicate to be made by any but your lady- 
 ship. Yonder she stands, looking as if she heard no more 
 than the marble pillar against which she leans. Now, 
 if Lady Derby will contrive either to place her hand near 
 the region of the damsel's heart, or at least on her arm, 
 so that she can feel the sensation of the blood when the 
 pulse increases, then do you, my Lord of Ormond, 
 beckon Juhan Peveril out of sight. I will show you in a 
 moment that it can stir at sounds spoken.' 
 
 The countess, much surprised, afraid of some em- 
 barrassing pleasantry on the part of Charles, yet unable 
 to repress her curiosity, placed herself near Fenella, as 
 
 441
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 she called her little mute; and, while making signs to 
 her, contrived to place her hand on her wrist. 
 
 At this moment the King, passing near them, said, 
 * This is a horrid deed : the villain Christian has stabbed 
 young Peveril!' 
 
 The mute evidence of the pulse, which bounded as if a 
 cannon had been discharged close by the poor girl's ear, 
 was accompanied by such a loud scream of agony as 
 distressed, while it startled, the good-natured monarch 
 himself. 'I did but jest,' he said; 'Julian is well, my 
 pretty maiden. I only used the wand of a certain blind 
 deity, called Cupid, to bring a deaf and dumb vassal of 
 his to the exercise of her faculties.' ^ 
 
 *I am betrayed!' she said, with her eyes fixed on the 
 ground — * I am betrayed ! and it is fit that she, whose 
 life has been spent in practising treason on others, 
 should be caught in her own snare. But where is my 
 tutor in iniquity? Where is Christian, who taught me 
 to play the part of spy on this unsuspicious lady, until 
 I had wellnigh delivered her into his bloody hands ? ' 
 
 'This,' said the King, 'craves more secret examina- 
 tion. Let all leave the apartment who are not immedi- 
 ately connected with these proceedings, and let this 
 Christian be again brought before us. Wretched man,' 
 he continued, addressing Christian, 'what wiles are 
 these you have practised, and by what extraordinary 
 means?' 
 
 'She has betrayed me, then!' said Christian — 'be- 
 trayed me to bonds and death, merely for an idle pas- 
 sion, which can never be successful ! But know, Zarah/ 
 he added, addressing her sternly, 'when my life is for- 
 
 ^ See Note 23. 
 442
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 feited through thy evidence, the daughter has murdered 
 the father!' 
 
 The unfortunate girl stared on him in astonishment. 
 'You said/ at length she stammered forth, 'that I was 
 the daughter of your slaughtered brother?' 
 
 'That was partly to reconcile thee to the part thou 
 wert to play in my destined drama of vengeance, partly 
 to hide what men call the infamy of thy birth. But my 
 daughter thou art! and from the Eastern cHme, in which 
 thy mother was born, you derive that fierce torrent of 
 passion which I laboured to train to my purposes, but 
 which, turned into another channel, has become the 
 cause of your father's destruction. My destiny is the 
 Tower, I suppose?' 
 
 He spoke these words with great composure, and scarce 
 seemed to regard the agonies of his daughter, who, 
 throwing herself at his feet, sobbed and wept most bit- 
 terly. 
 
 'This must not be,' said the King, moved with com- 
 passion at this scene of misery. ' If you consent. Chris- 
 tian, to leave this country, there is a vessel in the river 
 bound for New England. Go, carry your dark intrigues 
 to other lands.' 
 
 'I might dispute the sentence,' said Christian, boldly; 
 'and if I submit to it, it is a matter of my own choice. 
 One half hour had made me even with that proud 
 woman, but fortune hath cast the balance against me. 
 Rise, Zarah, Fenella no more! Tell the Lady of Derby 
 that, if the daughter of Edward Christian, the niece of 
 her murdered victim, served her as a menial, it was 
 but for the purpose of vengeance — miserably, miser- 
 ably frustrated ! Thou seest thy folly now : thou wouldst 
 
 443
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 follow yonder ungrateful stripling, thou wouldst forsake 
 all other thoughts to gain his slightest notice; and now 
 thou art a forlorn outcast, ridiculed and insulted by 
 those on whose necks you might have trod had you 
 governed yourself with more wisdom. But come, thou 
 art still my daughter; there are other skies than that 
 which canopies Britain.' 
 
 'Stop him,' said the King; 'we must know by what 
 means this maiden found access to those confined in our 
 prisons.' 
 
 ' I refer your Majesty to your most Protestant jailor, 
 and to the most Protestant peers, who, in order to ob- 
 tain perfect knowledge of the depth of the Popish Plot, 
 have contrived these ingenious apertures for visiting 
 them in their cells by night or day. His Grace of Buck- 
 ingham can assist your Majesty if you are inclined to 
 make the inquiry.' ^ 
 
 ' Christian,' said the duke, ' thou art the most bare- 
 faced villain who ever breathed!' 
 
 'Of a commoner, I may,' answered Christian, and led 
 his daughter out of the presence. 
 
 'See after him, Selby,' said the King — 'lose not sight 
 of him till the ship sail; if he dare return to Britain, it 
 shall be at his peril. Would to God we had as good rid- 
 dance of others as dangerous! And I would also,' he 
 added, after a moment's pause, 'that all our pohtical 
 intrigues and feverish alarms could terminate as harm- 
 lessly as now. Here is a plot without a drop of blood; 
 and all the elements of a romance without its conclu- 
 sion. Here we have a wandering island princess — I 
 
 ^ It was said that very unfair means were used to compel the prisoners 
 committed on account of the Popish Plot to make disclosures, and that 
 several of them were privately put to the torture. 
 
 444
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 
 
 pray my Lady of Derby's pardon — a dwarf, a Moor- 
 ish sorceress, an impenitent rogue, and a repentant man 
 of rank, and yet all ends without either hanging or 
 marriage.' 
 
 'Not altogether without the latter,' said the count- 
 ess, who had an opportunity, during the evening, of 
 much private conversation with Julian Peveril. * There 
 is a certain Major Bridgenorth, who, since your Majesty 
 relinquishes further inquiry into these proceedings, 
 which he had otherwise intended to abide, designs, as 
 we are informed, to leave England for ever. Now this 
 Bridgenorth, by dint of the law, hath acquired strong 
 possession over the domains of Peveril, which he is 
 desirous to restore to the ancient owners, with much 
 fair land besides, conditionally, that our young Julian 
 will receive them as the dowery of his only child and 
 heir.' 
 
 *By my faith,' said the King, 'she must be a foul- 
 favoured wench indeed if Julian requires to be pressed 
 to accept her on such fair conditions.' 
 
 'They love each other like lovers of the last age,' 
 said the countess; 'but the stout old knight likes not the 
 Roundheaded alliance.' 
 
 'Our royal recommendation shall put that to rights,' 
 said the King; 'Sir Geoffrey Peveril has not suffered 
 hardship so often at our command, that he will refuse 
 our recommendation when it comes to make him amends 
 for all his losses.' 
 
 It may be supposed the King did not speak without 
 being fully aware of the unlimited ascendency which he 
 possessed over the spirit of the old Tory; for, within four 
 weeks afterwards, the bells of Martindale-Moultrassie 
 
 445
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 were ringing for the union of the families from whose 
 estates it takes its compound name, and the beacon- 
 h'ght of the castle blazed high over hill and dale and 
 summoned all to rejoice who were within twenty miles 
 of its gleam. 
 
 THE END
 
 NOTES AND GLOSSARY
 
 NOTES 
 
 Note i, p. 80 
 
 The first check received by Dr. Gates and his colleagues in the 
 task of supporting the Plot by their testimony was in this manner: 
 After a good deal of prevarication, the prime witness at length 
 made a direct charge against Sir George Wakeman, the Queen's 
 physician, of an attempt to poison the king, and even connected 
 the Queen with this accusation, whom he represented as Wake- 
 man's accomphce. This last piece of effrontery recalled the King 
 to some generous sentiments. 'The villains,' said Charles, 'think 
 I am tired of my wife; but they shall find I will not permit an in- 
 nocent woman to be persecuted.' Scroggs, the Lord Chief Justice, 
 accordingly received instructions to be favourable to the accused ; 
 and, for the first time, he was so. Wakeman was acquitted, but 
 thought it more for his safety to retire abroad. His acquittal, 
 however, indicated a turn of the tide, which had so long set in 
 favour of the Plot, and of the witnesses by whom it had hitherto 
 been supported. 
 
 Note 2, p. 80 
 
 The epitaph alluded to is the celebrated epigram made by Ro- 
 chester on Charles II. It was composed at the King's request, 
 who nevertheless resented its poignancy. 
 
 The lines are well known : — 
 
 Here lies our sovereign lord the King, 
 
 Whose word no man relies on; 
 Who never said a foolish thing, 
 
 And never did a wise one. 
 
 Note 3, p. 81 
 
 The Duchess of Portsmouth, Charles II's favourite mistress, 
 very unpopular at the time of the Popish Plot, as well from her 
 religion as her country, being a Frenchwoman and a Catholic. 
 
 Note 4, p. 106 
 
 Elkanah Settle, the unworthy scribbler whom the envy of 
 Rochester and others tried to raise to public estimation as a rival 
 to Dryden, a circumstance which has been the means of elevating 
 him to a very painful species of immortality. 
 
 88 449
 
 NOTES 
 
 Note 5, p. 106 
 
 It was the unworthy distinction of men of wit and honour about 
 town to revenge their own quarrels with inferior persons by the 
 hands of bravoes. Even in the days of chivalry, the knights, as 
 may be learned from Don Quixote, turned over to the chastise- 
 ment of their squires such adversaries as were not dubb'd; and 
 thus it was not unusual for men of quality in Charles II's time 
 to avenge their wrongs by means of private assassination. Ro- 
 chester writes composedly concerning a satire imputed to Dryden, 
 but in reality composed by Mulgrave, ' If he falls upon me with 
 the blunt, which is his very good weapon in wit, I will forgive him, 
 if you please, and leave the repartee to Black Will with a cudgel.' 
 And, in conformity with this cowardly and brutal intimation, that 
 distinguished poet was waylaid and beaten severely in Rose Street, 
 Covent Garden, by ruffians who could not be discovered, but 
 whom all concluded to be the agents of Rochester's mean re- 
 venge. 
 
 Note 6, p. 109 
 
 Bennet, Earl of Arlington, was one of Charles's most attached 
 courtiers during his exile. After the Restoration, he was employed 
 in the ministry, and the name of Bennet supplies its initial B to 
 the celebrated word Cabal. But the King was supposed to have 
 lost respect for him ; and several persons at court took the liberty 
 to mimic his person and behaviour, which was stiff and formal. 
 Thus it was a common jest for some courtier to put a black patch 
 on his nose and strut about with a white staff in his hand, to make 
 the King merry. But, notwithstanding, he retained his office of 
 Lord Chamberlain and his seat in the privy council till his death in 
 1685. 
 
 Note 7, p. no 
 
 Mary, daughter of Thomas Lord Fairfax, was wedded to the 
 Duke of Buckingham, whose versatility rendered him as capable 
 of rendering himself for a time agreeable to his father-in-law, 
 though a rigid Presbyterian, as to the gay Charles II. 
 
 Note 8, p. 115 
 
 The application of the very respectable old English name of 
 Jemingham to the valet-de-chambre of the Duke of Buckingham 
 has proved of force sufficient to wake the resentment of the dead, 
 
 450
 
 NOTES 
 
 who had in early days worn that illustrious surname; for the Au- 
 thor received by post the following expostulation on the subject: 
 'To the learned Clerk and worshipful Knight, Sir Walter Scott, 
 give these: 
 
 *Mye mortal frame has long since mouldered into dust, and the 
 young saplinge that was planted on the daye of mye funeral is 
 now a doddered oak, standinge hard bye the mansion of the fam- 
 ihe. The windes doe whistle thro' its leaves, moaninge among its 
 moss-covered branches, and awakeninge in the soules of my de- 
 scendants that pensive Melancholy which leads back to the con- 
 templating those that are gone! I, who was once the courtly 
 dame, that held high revelry in those gaye bowers, am now light 
 as the blast! 
 
 'If I essaye, from vain affection, to make my name be thought 
 of by producing the noise of rustlinge silkes, or the slow tread of a 
 midnight foot along the chapel floor, alas! I only scare the simple 
 maidens, and mye wearie efiforts (how wearie none alive can tell) 
 are derided and jeered at by my knightlie descendants. Once in- 
 deed — but it boots not to burthen your ear with this particular, 
 nor why I am still sad and aching, between earth and heaven! 
 Know only, that I still walk this place, as mye playmate, your 
 great -grandmother, does hers. I sit in my wonted chair, tho' now 
 it stands in a dusty garret. I frequent my ladye's room, and I 
 have hushed her wailinge babes, when all the cunning of the nurse 
 has failed. I sit at the window where so long a succession of hon- 
 orable dames have presided their daye, and are passed away. But 
 in the change that centuries brought, honor and truth have re- 
 mained; and, as adherents to King Harry's eldest daughter, as 
 true subjects to her successors, as faithful followers of the unfor- 
 tunate Charles and his posteritie, and as loyal and attached serv- 
 auntes of the present royal stock, the name of Jerningham has 
 ever remained unsullied in honour, and uncontaminated in aught 
 unfytting its ancient knightlie origin. You, noble and learned sir, 
 whose quill is as the trumpet arousinge the slumberinge soule to 
 feehngs of loftie chivalrie — you. Sir Knight, who feel and doe 
 honor to your noble lineage, wherefore did you say, in your chron- 
 icle or historie of the brave knt, Peveril of the Peake, that my 
 lord of Buckingham's servaunte was a Jerningham? a vile varlet 
 to a viler noble! Many honourable families have, indeed, shot and 
 spread from the parent stock into wild entangled mazes, and 
 reached perchance beyond the confines of gentle blood; but it so 
 pleased Providence, that mye worshipful husband, good Sir 
 
 451
 
 NOTES 
 
 Harry's line, has flowed in one confined but dear deep stream 
 down to mye well-beloued son, the present Sir George Jerning- 
 ham, by just claim Lorde Staff orde; and if any of your courtly 
 ancestors that hover round your bed could speak, they would 
 tell you that the duke's valet was not Jerningham, but Sayer 
 or Sims. Act as you shall think mete hereon, but defend the 
 honoured names of those whose champion you so well deserve 
 to be. J. Jerningham.' 
 
 Having no mode of knowing how to reply to this ancient digni- 
 tary, I am compelled to lay the blame of my error upon wicked 
 example, which has misled me; and to plead that I should never 
 have been guilty of so great a misnomer, but for the authority 
 of one Oliver Goldsmith, who, in elegant dialogue between the 
 Lady Blarney and Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs, 
 makes the former assure Miss Skeggs as a fact that the next morn- 
 ing my lord called out three times to his valet-de-chambre, 'Jern- 
 igan — Jernigan — Jernigan! bring me my garters!' Some inac- 
 curate recollection of this passage has occasioned the offence ren- 
 dered, for which I make this imperfect, yet respectful, apology. 
 
 Note 9, p. 186 
 
 Roger North gives us a ridiculous description of these warlike 
 habiliments when talking of the Whig Club in Fuller's Rents. 
 'The conversation and ordinary discourse of the club was chiefly 
 on the subject of bravery in defending the cause of liberty and 
 property, and what every Protestant Englishman ought to ven- 
 ture and do, rather than be overrun with Popery and slavery. 
 There was much recommendation of silk armour, and the pru- 
 dence of being provided with it, against the time that Protestants 
 were to be massacred; and accordingly there were abundance of 
 these silken backs, breasts, and pots [i.e. head-pieces] made and 
 sold, which were pretended to be pistol proof, in which any man 
 dressed up was as safe as in a house; for it was impossible any one 
 could go to strike him for laughing, so ridiculous was the figure, as 
 they say, of hogs in armour — an image of derision insensible but 
 to the view, as I have had it [viz. that none can imagine without 
 seeing it, as I have]. This was armour of defence, but our sparks 
 were not altogether so tame as to carry their provisions no farther; 
 for truly they intended to be assailants upon fair occasion, and had 
 for that end recommended to them a certain pocket weapon, which 
 for its design and efficacy, had the honour to be called a Protestant 
 
 452
 
 NOTES 
 
 flail. It was for street and crowd work, and the instrument, lurk- 
 ing perdue in a coat-pocket, might readily sally out to execution, 
 and by clearing a great hall, piazza, or so, carry an election by a 
 choice way of polling, called "knocking down." The handle re- 
 sembled a farrier's blood-stick, and the fall was joined to the end 
 by a strong nervous ligature, that in its swing fell short of the 
 hand, and was made of lignum vitce, or rather, as the poet termed 
 it, mortis.' — Examen, p. 173. 
 
 This last weapon will remind the reader of the blood-stick so 
 cruelly used, as was alleged, in a murder committed in England 
 some years ago, and for a participation in which two persons were 
 tried and acquitted at the assizes of autumn 1830. 
 
 Note 10, p. 210 
 
 Geoffrey or Jeffrey Hudson is often mentioned in anecdotes of 
 Charles I's time. His first appearance at court was his being pre- 
 sented, as mentioned in the text, in a pie, at an entertainment 
 given by the Duke of Buckingham to Charles I and Henrietta 
 Maria. Upon the same occasion, the Duke presented the tenant 
 of the pasty to the Queen, who retained him as her page. When 
 about eight years of age, he was but eighteen or twenty inches 
 high; and remained stationary at that stature till he was thirty 
 years old, when he grew to the height of three feet nine inches, and 
 there stopped. 
 
 This singular lusus naiurce was trusted in some negotiations 
 of consequence. He went to France to fetch over a midwife to 
 his mistress, Henrietta Maria. On his return, he was taken by 
 Dunkirk privateers, when he lost many valuable presents sent to 
 the Queen from France and about £2500 of his own. Sir William 
 Davenant makes a real or supposed combat between the dwarf 
 and a turkey-cock the subject of a poem called Jeffreidos, The 
 scene is laid at Dunkirk, where, as the satire concludes — 
 
 Jeffrey strait was thrown, when, faint and weak, 
 The cruel fowl assaults him with his beak. 
 A lady midwife now he there by chance 
 Espied, that came along with him from France. 
 'A heart brought up in war, that ne'er before 
 This time could bow,' he said, 'doth now implore 
 Thou, that delivered hast so many, be 
 So kind of nature as deliver me.' 
 
 We are not acquainted how far Jeffrey resented this lam- 
 poon. But we are assured he was a consequential personage, 
 and endured with little temper the teasing of the Hnrr."-*-" -• > 
 
 453
 
 NOTES 
 
 courtiers, and had many squabbles with the King's gigantic 
 porter. 
 
 The fatal duel with Mr. Crofts actually took place, as mentioned 
 in the text. It happened in France. The poor dwarf had also the 
 misfortune to be taken prisoner by a Turkish pirate. He was, how- 
 ever, probably soon set at liberty, for Hudson was a captain for 
 the King during the Civil War. In 1644 the dwarf attended his 
 royal mistress to France. The Restoration recalled him, with 
 other Royalists, to England. But this poor being, who received, it 
 would seem, hard measure both from nature and fortune, was not 
 doomed to close his days in peace. Poor Jeffrey, upon some sus- 
 picion respecting the Popish Plot, was taken up in 1682, and con- 
 fined in the Gatehouse prison, Westminster, where he ended his 
 life in the sixty-third year of his age. 
 
 Jeffrey Hudson has been immortalised by the brush of Vandyke, 
 and his clothes are said to be preserved as articles of curiosity in 
 Sir Hans Sloan's Museum. 
 
 Note ii, p. 257 
 
 The ill-usage of Sir John Coventry by some of the Life Guards- 
 men in revenge of something said in Parliament concerning the 
 King's theatrical amours, gave rise to what was called Coventry's 
 Act, against cutting and maiming the person. 
 
 Note 12, p. 271 
 
 Of Blood's Narrative, Roger North takes the following notice: — 
 'There was another sham plot of one Netterville. . . . And here 
 the good Colonel Blood — that stole the Duke of Ormond, and, if 
 a timely rescue had not come in, had hanged him at Tyburn, and 
 afterwards stole the crown, though he was not so happy as to 
 carry it off — no player at small games; he, even he, the virtuous 
 colonel, as this sham plot says, was to have been destroyed by the 
 Papists. It seems these Papists would let no eminent Protestant 
 be safe. But some amends were made to the colonel by sale of the 
 narrative, licensed Thomas Blood. It would have been strange 
 if so much mischief were stirring, and he had not come in for a 
 snack.' — Examen, edit. 1711, p. 311. 
 
 Note 13, p. 275 
 
 Stock-jobbing, as it is called, that is, dealing in shares of mon- 
 opolies, patents, and joint-stock companies of every description, 
 
 454
 
 NOTES 
 
 was at least as common in Charles II 's time as our own; and as the 
 exercise of ingenuity in this way promised a road to wealth with- 
 out the necessity of industry, it was then much pursued by dis- 
 solute courtiers. 
 
 Note 14, p. 284 
 
 This case is not without precedent. Among the jealousies and 
 fears expressed by the Long Parliament, they insisted much upon 
 an agent for the King departing for the Continent so abruptly 
 that he had not time to change his court dress — white buskins, 
 to wit, and black silk pantaloons — for an equipment more suit- 
 able to travel with. 
 
 Note 15, p. 296 
 
 In Evelyn's Memoirs is the following curious passage respecting 
 Nell Gwyn, who is hinted at in the text: 'I walked with him [King 
 Charles II] through St. James's Park to the garden, where I both 
 saw and heard a very familiar discourse between . . . [the 
 King] and Mrs. Nelly, as they called her, an intimate comedian, 
 she looking out of her garden on a terrace at the top of the wall, 
 and the [King] standing on the green walk under it. I was heartily 
 sorry at this scene.' — Evelyn's Memoirs, vol. i, p. 413. 
 
 Note 16, p. 306 
 
 The conspirator Blood even fought or made his way into good 
 society, and sat at good men's feasts. Evelyn's Diary bears, loth 
 May 1671: 'Dined at Mr. Treasurer's, where dined Monsieur de 
 Grammont and several French noblemen, and one Blood, that 
 impudent, bold fellow, that had not long ago attempted to steal 
 the Imperial crown itself out of the Tower, pretending curiosity 
 of seeing the Regalia, when, stabbing the keeper, though not mor- 
 tally, he boldly went away with it through all the guards, taken 
 only by the accident of his horse falling down. How he came to be 
 pardoned, and even received into favour, not only after this, but 
 several other exploits almost as daring, both in Ireland and here, 
 I could never come to understand. Some believed he became a 
 spy of several parties, being well with the sectaries and enthusi- 
 asts, and did his Majesty service that way, which none alive could 
 do so well as he. But it was certainly, as the boldest attempt, so 
 the only treason of the sort that was ever pardoned. The man had 
 not only a daring, but a villainous, unmerciful look, a false coun- 
 
 455
 
 NOTES 
 
 tenance, but very well spoken and dangerously insinuating.' — 
 Evelyn's Memoirs, vol. i, p. 413. 
 
 This is one of the many occasions on which we might make curf- 
 ous remarks on the disregard of our forefathers for appearances, 
 even in the regulation of society. What should we think of a 
 Lord of the Treasury, who, to make up a party of French nobles 
 and English gentlemen of condition, should invite as a guest Bar- 
 rington or Major Semple, or any well-known chevalier d'indus- 
 trie ? Yet Evelyn does not seem to have been shocked at the man 
 being brought into society, but only at his remaining unhanged. 
 
 Note 17, p. 324 
 
 It was on such terms that Dr. Gates was pleased to claim the 
 
 extraordinary privilege of dealing out the information which he 
 chose to communicate to a court of justice. The only sense in 
 which his story of the fox, stone, and goose could be applicable is 
 by supposing, that he was determined to ascertain the extent of his 
 countrymen's credulity before supplying it with a full meal. 
 
 Note 18, p. 366 
 
 Thomas, or Sir Thomas, Armstrong, a person who had distin- 
 guished himself in youth by duels and drunken exploits. He was 
 particularly connected with the Duke of Monmouth, and was said 
 to be concerned in the Rye-House Plot, for which he suffered 
 capital punishment, 20th June 1684. 
 
 Note 19, p. 368 
 
 Charles, to suit his dark complexion, always wore a black 
 peruke. He used to say of the players, that if they wished to 
 represent a villain on the stage, 'Odds-fish, they always clapp'd 
 on him a black periwig, whereas the greatest rogue in England 
 [meaning, probably, Dr. Gates] wears a white one.' — See Gib- 
 ber's Apology. 
 
 Note 20, p. 370 
 
 The place of meeting of the Green Ribbon Club. Their place of 
 meeting, says Roger North, ' was in a sort of carrefour at Chanc- 
 ery Lane, in a centre of business and company most proper for 
 such anglers of fools. The house was double balconied in front, as 
 may yet be seen, for the clubbers to issue forth in fresco, with 
 
 456
 
 NOTES 
 
 hats and no peruques, pipes in their mouths, merry faces, and 
 dilated throats for vocal encouragement of the canaglia below, on 
 usual and unusual occasions.' 
 
 Note 21, p. 391 
 It can hardly be forgotten that one of the great difficulties of 
 Charles II's reign was to obtain for the crown the power of choos- 
 ing the sheriffs of London. Roger North gives a lively account of 
 his brother. Sir Dudley North, who agreed to serve for the court. 
 *I omit the share he had in composing the tumults about burning 
 the Pope, because that is accounted for in the Examen and the 
 life of the Lord Keeper North. Neither is there occasion to say 
 anything of the rise and discovery of the Rye Plot, for the same 
 reason. Nor is my subject much concerned with this latter, fur- 
 ther than that the conspirators had taken especial care of Sir 
 Dudley North. For he was one of those who, if they had succeeded, 
 was to have been knocked on the head, and his skin to be stuffed 
 and hung up in Guildhall. But all that apart he reckoned it a 
 great unhappiness that so many trials for high treason, and exe- 
 cutions, should happen in his year. However, in these affairs, the 
 sheriffs were passive; for all returns of panels, and other dis- 
 patches of the law, were issued and done by under-officers, which 
 was a fair screen for them. They attended at the trials and execu- 
 tions, to coerce the crowds and keep order, which was enough for 
 them to do. I have heard Sir Dudley North say that, striking 
 with his cane, he wondered to see what blows his countrymen 
 would take upon their bare heads, and never look up at it. And, 
 indeed, nothing can match the zeal of the common people to see 
 executions. The worst grievance was the executioner coming to 
 him for orders touching the abscinded members, and to know 
 where to dispose of them. Once, while he was abroad, a cart, with 
 some of them, came into the courtyard of his house, and frighted 
 his lady almost out of her wits; and she could never be reconciled 
 to the dog hangman's saying he came to speak with his master. 
 These are inconveniences that attend the stations of public mag- 
 istracy, and are necessary to be borne with, as magistracy itself 
 is necessary. I have now no more to say of any incidents during 
 the shrievalty; but that, at the year's end, he delivered up his 
 charges to his successors in like manner as he had received them 
 from his predecessor; and, having reinstated his family, he lived 
 well and easy at his own house, as he did before these disturbances 
 put him out of order.' 
 
 457
 
 NOTES 
 
 Note 22, p. 439 
 
 This person, who was capable of framing and carrying into exe- 
 cution the most desperate enterprises, was one of those extraor- 
 dinary characters who can only arise amid the bloodshed, confu- 
 sion, destruction of morality, and wide-spreading violence which 
 take place during civil war. The arrangement of the present vol- 
 ume admitting of a lengthened digression, we cannot, perhaps, 
 enter upon a subject more extraordinary or entertaining than the 
 history of this notorious desperado, who exhibited all the elements 
 of a most accompHshed ruiBan. As the account of these adven- 
 tures is scattered in various and scarce publications, it will pro- 
 bably be a service to the reader to bring the most remarkable of 
 them under his eye, in a simultaneous point of view. 
 
 Blood's father is reported to have been a blacksmith; but this 
 was only a disparaging mode of describing a person who had a 
 concern in iron-works, and had thus acquired independence. He 
 entered early in life into the Civil War, served as a lieutenant in 
 the Parliament forces, and was put by Henry Cromwell, Lord 
 Deputy of Ireland, into the commission of the peace, when he was 
 scarcely two-and-twenty. This outset in life decided his pohtical 
 party for ever; and however unfit the principles of such a man 
 rendered him for the society of those who professed a rigidity of 
 religion and morals, so useful was Blood's rapidity of invention, 
 and so well was he known, that he was held capable of framing 
 with sagacity, and conducting with skill, the most desperate un- 
 dertakings, and in a turbulent time was allowed to associate with 
 the nonjurors, who affected a peculiar austerity of conduct and 
 sentiments. In 1663, the Act of Settlement in Ireland, and the 
 proceedings thereupon, aflfected Blood deeply in his fortune, 
 and from that moment he appears to have nourished the most 
 inveterate hatred to the Duke of Ormond, the Lord Lieutenant 
 of Ireland, whom he considered as the author of the measures un- 
 der which he suffered. There were at this time many malcon- 
 tents of the same party with himself, so that Lieutenant Blood, 
 as the most daring among them, was able to put himself at the 
 head of a conspiracy which had for its purpose the exciting a gen- 
 eral insurrection, and, as a prehminary step, the surprising of the 
 castle of Dublin. The means proposed for the last purpose, which 
 was to be the prelude to the rising, augured the desperation of 
 the person by whom it was contrived, and yet might probably 
 have succeeded from its very boldness. A declaration was drawn 
 
 458
 
 NOTES 
 
 up by the hand of Blood himself, calling upon all persons to take 
 arms for the liberty of the subject and the restoration of the Sol- 
 emn League and Covenant. For the surprise of the castle, it was 
 provided that several persons with petitions in their hands were 
 to wait within the walls, as if they staid to present them to the 
 Lord Lieutenant, while about fourscore of the old daring dis- 
 banded soldiers were to remain on the outside, dressed like car- 
 penters, smiths, shoemakers, and other ordinary mechanics. As 
 soon as the Lord Lieutenant went in, a baker was to pass by the 
 main guard with a large basket of white bread on his back. By 
 making a false step, he was to throw down his burden, which 
 might create a scramble among the soldiers, and offer the four- 
 score men before mentioned an opportunity of disarming them, 
 while the others with petitions in their hands secured all within ; 
 and being once master of the castle and the Duke of Ormond's 
 person, they were to pubHsh their declaration. But some of the 
 principal conspirators were apprehended about twelve hours be- 
 fore the time appointed for the execution of the design, in which 
 no less than seven members of the House of Commons (for the 
 Parhament of Ireland was then sitting) were concerned. Leckie, 
 a minister, the brother-in-law of Blood, was with several others 
 tried, condemned, and executed. Blood effected his escape, but 
 was still so much the object of public apprehension, that a ru- 
 mour having arisen during Leckie's execution that Major Blood 
 was at hand with a party to rescue the prisoner, every one of the 
 guards, and the executioner himself, shifted for themselves, leaving 
 Leckie, with the halter about his neck, standing alone under the 
 gallows; but, as no rescue appeared, the sheriff-officers returned 
 to their duty, and the criminal was executed. Meantime Blood 
 retired among the mountains of Ireland, where he herded alter- 
 nately with fanatics and Papists, provided only they were discon- 
 tented with the government. There were few persons better ac- 
 quainted with the intrigues of the time than this active partizan, 
 who was alternately Quaker, Anabaptist, or Catholic, but always 
 a rebel and revolutionist ; he shifted from place to place, and from 
 kingdom to kingdom, became known to the Admiral de Ruyter, 
 and was the soul of every desperate plot. 
 
 In particular, about 1665, Mr. Blood was one of a revolutionary 
 committee, or secret council, which continued its sittings, not- 
 withstanding that government knew of its meetings. For their 
 security, they had about thirty stout fellows posted around the 
 place where they met, in the nature of a corps de garde. It fell 
 
 459
 
 NOTES 
 
 out that two of the members of the council, to save themselves, 
 and perhaps for the sake of a reward, betrayed all their transac- 
 tions to the ministry, which ]Mr. Blood soon suspected, and in a 
 short time got to the bottom of the whole affair. He appointed 
 these two persons to meet him at a tavern in the city, where he 
 had his guard ready, who secured them without any noise, and 
 carried them to a private place provided for the purpose, where 
 he called a kind of court-martial, before whom they were tried, 
 found guilty, and sentenced to be shot two days after in the same 
 place. When the time appointed came, they were brought out, 
 and all the necessary preparations made for putting the sentence 
 in execution; and the poor men, seeing no hopes of escape, dis- 
 posed themselves to suffer as well as they could. At this critical 
 juncture, Mr. Blood was graciously pleased to grant them his 
 pardon, and at the same time advised them to go to their new 
 master, tell him all that had happened, and request him, in the 
 name of their old confederates, to be as favourable to such of 
 them as should at any time stand in need of his mercy. Whether 
 these unfortunate people carried Mr. Blood's message to the king, 
 does not anywhere appear. It is, however, certain that not long 
 after the whole conspiracy was discovered; in consequence of 
 which, on the 26th of April 1666, Colonel John Rathbone, and 
 some other officers of the late disbanded army, were tried and 
 convicted at the Old Bailey for a plot to surprise the Tower and 
 to kill General Monk. 
 
 After his concern with this desperate conclave, who were chiefly 
 fanatics and Fifth Monarchy men, Blood exchanged the scene for 
 Scotland, where he mingled among the Cameronians, and must 
 have been a most acceptable associate to John Balfour of Burley, 
 or any other who joined the insurgents more out of spleen or de- 
 sire of plunder than from religious motives. The writers of the 
 sect seem to have thought his name a discredit, or perhaps did not 
 know it; nevertheless, it is affirmed in a pamphlet written by a 
 person who seems to have been well acquainted with the incidents 
 of his life, that he shared the dangers of the defeat at Pentland 
 Hills, 27th November 1666, in which the Cameronians were to- 
 tally routed. After the engagement, he found his way again to 
 Ireland, but was hunted out of Ulster by Lord Dungannon, who 
 pursued him very closely. On his return to England, he made 
 himself again notorious by an exploit, of which the very singular 
 particulars are contained in the pamphlet already mentioned.^ 
 
 > Remarks on the Life of the famed Mr. Blood. London, 1680. Folio. 
 460
 
 NOTES 
 
 The narrative runs as follows: — Among the persons apprehended 
 for the late fanatic conspiracy 'was one Captain Mason, a person 
 for whom Mr. Blood had a particular affection and friendship. 
 This person was to be removed from London to one of the north- 
 ern counties, in order to his trial at the assizes; and to that intent 
 was sent down with eight of the duke's troop to guard him, being 
 reckoned to be a person bold and courageous. Mr. Blood, having 
 notice of this journey, resolves by the way to rescue his friend. 
 The prisoner and his guard went away in the morning, and Mr. 
 Blood, having made choice of three more of his acquaintance, set 
 forward the same day at night, without boots, upon small horses, 
 and their pistols in their trowsers, to prevent suspicion. But op- 
 portunities are not so easily had, neither were all places conven- 
 ient, so that the convoy and their prisoner were gone a good way 
 beyond Newark before Mr. Blood and his friends had any scent 
 of their prisoner. At one place they set a sentinel to watch his 
 coming by; but whether it was out of fear, or that the person was 
 tired with a tedious expectation, the sentinel brought them no 
 tidings either of the prisoner or his guard, insomuch that Mr. 
 Blood and his companions began to think their friend so far be- 
 fore them upon the road that it would be in vain to follow him. 
 Yet, not willing to give over an enterprise so generously under- 
 taken, upon Mr. Blood's encouragement they rode on, though 
 despairing of success, till finding it grow towards evening, and 
 meeting with a convenient inn upon the road, in a small village not 
 far from Doncaster, they resolved to lie there all night, and return 
 for London the next morning. In that inn they had not sat long 
 in a room next the street, condoling among themselves the ill suc- 
 cess of such a tedious journey, and the misfortune of their friend, 
 before the convoy came thundering up to the door of the said inn 
 with their prisoner, Captain Mason having made choice of that 
 inn, as being best known to him, to give his guardians the re- 
 freshment of a dozen of drink. There Mr. Blood, unseen, had a 
 full view of his friend, and of the persons he had to deal with. He 
 had bespoke a small supper, which was at the fire, so that he had 
 but very little time for consultation, finding that Captain Mason's 
 party did not intend to alight. On this account he only gave 
 general directions to his associates to follow his example in what- 
 ever they saw him do. In haste, therefore, they called for their 
 horses and threw down their money for their reckoning, telling 
 the woman of the house that, since they had met with such good 
 company, they were resolved to go forward. Captain Mason 
 
 461
 
 NOTES 
 
 went off first upon a sorry beast, and with him the commander of 
 the party and four more; the rest staid behind to make an end of 
 their Hquor. Then away marched one more single, and in a very 
 small time after the last two. By this time Mr. Blood and one of 
 his friends, being horsed, followed the two that were hindmost, 
 and soon overtook them. These four rode some little time to- 
 gether, Mr. Blood on the right hand of the two soldiers and his 
 friend on the left. But upon a sudden Mr. Blood laid hold of the 
 reins of the horse next him, while his friend, in observation to his 
 directions, did the same on the other hand; and having presently 
 by surprise dismounted the soldiers, pulled off their bridles and 
 sent their horses to pick their grass where they pleased. These two 
 being thus made sure of, Mr. Blood pursues his game, intending to 
 have reached the single trooper; but he being got to the rest of his 
 fellows, now reduced to six, and a barber of York, that travelled 
 in their company, Mr. Blood made up, heads the whole party, 
 and stops them; of which some of the foremost, looking upon him 
 to be either drunk or mad, thought the rebuke of a switch to be 
 a sufficient chastisement of such a rash presumption, which they 
 exercised with more contempt than fury, till, by the rudeness of 
 his compliments in return, he gave them to understand he was 
 not in jest, but in very good earnest. He was soon seconded by 
 his friend that was with him in his first exploit; but there had 
 been several rough blows dealt between the unequal number of 
 six to two before Mr. Blood's two other friends came up to their 
 assistance; nay, I may safely say six to two, for the barber of 
 York, whether out of his natural propensity to the sport, or that 
 his pot-valiantness had made him so generous as to help his fellow 
 travellers, would needs show his valour at the beginning of the 
 fray. But better had he been at the latter end of a feast; for 
 though he showed his prudence to take the stronger side, as he 
 guessed by the number, yet because he would take no warning, 
 which was often given him, not to put himself to the hazard of 
 losing a guitar finger by meddling in a business that nothing con- 
 cerned him, he lost his life, as they were forced to despatch him, 
 in the first place, for giving them a needless trouble. The barber, 
 being become an useless instrument, and the other of Mr. Blood's 
 friends being come up, the skirmish began to be very smart, the 
 four assailants having singled out their champions as fairly and 
 equally as they could. All this while Captain Mason, being rode 
 before upon his thirty-shilling steed, wondering his guard came 
 not with him, looked back, and, observing a combustion and that 
 
 462
 
 NOTES 
 
 they were altogether by the ears, knew not what to think. He con- 
 jectured it at first to have been some intrigue upon him, as if the 
 troopers had a design to tempt him to an escape, which might 
 afterwards prove more to his prejudice; just Uke cats, that, with 
 regardless scorn, seem to give the distressed mouse all the liberty 
 in the world to get away out of their paws, but soon recover their 
 prey again at one jump. Thereupon, unwilling to undergo the 
 hazard of such a trail, he comes back, at which time Mr. Blood 
 cried out to him, "Horse — horse, quickly! " an alarm so amazing 
 at first, that he could not believe it to be his friend's voice when 
 he heard it; but as the thoughts of military men are soon sum- 
 moned together, and never hold Spanish councils, the captain 
 presently settled his resolution, mounts the next horse that wanted 
 a rider, and puts it in for a share of his own self-preservation. In 
 this bloody conflict Mr. Blood was three times unhorsed, occa- 
 sioned by his forgetfulness, as having omitted to new girt his sad- 
 dle, which the ostler had unloosed upon the wadding at his first 
 coming into the inn. Being then so often dismounted, and not 
 knowing the reason, which the occasion would not give him leave 
 to consider, he resolved to fight it out on foot; of which two of the 
 soldiers taking the advantage singled him out and drove him into 
 a courtyard, where he made a stand with a full body, his sword in 
 one hand and his pistol in the other. One of the soldiers, taking 
 that advantage of his open body, shot him near the shoulder-blade 
 of his pistol arm, at which time he had four other bullets in his 
 body that he had received before; which the soldier observing, 
 flung his discharged pistol at him with that good aim and violence, 
 that he hit him a stunning blow just under the forehead, upon the 
 upper part of the nose between the eyes, which for the present so 
 amazed him, that he gave himself over for a dead man; yet resolv- 
 ing to give one sparring blow before he expired, such is the strange 
 provocation and success of despair, with one vigorous stroke of 
 his sword he brought his adversary with a vengeance from his 
 horse, and laid him in a far worse condition than himself at his 
 horse's feet. At that time, full of anger and revenge, he was just 
 going to make an end of his conquest by giving him the fatal stab, 
 but that in the very nick of time Captain Mason, having, by the 
 help of his friends, done his business where they had fought, by 
 the death of some and the disabling of others that opposed them, 
 came in, and bid him hold and spare the life of one that had been 
 the civilest person to him upon the road, a fortunate piece of kind- 
 ness in the one and of gratitude in the other; which Mr. Blood 
 
 463
 
 NOTES 
 
 easily condescending to, by the joint assistance of the captain, the 
 other soldier was soon mastered, and the victory, after a sharp 
 fight, that lasted above two hours, was at length completed. You 
 may be sure the fight was well maintained on both sides, while 
 two of the soldiers, besides the barber, were slain upon the place, 
 three unhorsed, and the rest wounded. And it was observable 
 that, though the encounter happened in a village, where a great 
 number of people were spectators of the combat, yet none would 
 adventure the rescue of either party, as not knowing which was in 
 the wrong or which in the right, and were therefore wary of being 
 arbitrators in such a desperate contest, where they saw the reward 
 of assistance to be nothing but present death. After the combat 
 was over, Mr. Blood and his friends divided themselves and parted 
 several ways.* 
 
 Before he had engaged in this adventure. Blood had placed his 
 wife and son in an apothecary's shop at Rumford, under the name 
 of Weston. He himself afterwards affected to practise as a physi- 
 cian under that of Ayliffe, under which guise he remained con- 
 cealed until his wounds were cured, and the hue and cry against 
 him and his accomplices was somewhat abated. 
 
 In the meantime, this extraordinary man, whose spirits toiled 
 in framing the most daring enterprises, had devised a plot which, 
 as it respected the person at whom it was aimed, was of a much 
 more ambitious character than that for the delivery of Mason. It 
 had for its object the seizure of the person of the Duke of Ormond, 
 his ancient enemy, in the streets of London. In this some have 
 thought he only meant to gratify his resentment, while others sup- 
 pose that he might hope to extort some important advantages by 
 detaining his Grace in his hands as a prisoner. The duke's histo- 
 rian, Carte, gives the following account of this extraordinary en- 
 terprise: 'The Prince of Orange came this year (1670) into Eng- 
 land, and being invited on December 6 to an entertainment in the 
 city of London, his Grace attended him thither. As he was return- 
 ing homewards in a dark night, and going up St. James's Street, at 
 the end of which, facing the palace, stood Clarendon House, 
 where he then lived, he was attacked by Blood and five of his ac- 
 complices. The duke always used to go attended with six footmen ; 
 but as they were too heavy a load to ride upon a coach, he al- 
 ways had iron spikes behind it to keep them from getting up; and 
 continued this practice to his dying day, even after this attempt 
 of assassination. These six footmen used to walk on both sides of 
 the street over against the coach: but, by some contrivance or 
 
 464
 
 NOTES 
 
 other, they were all stopped and out of the way, when the duke 
 was taken out of his coach by Blood and his son, and mounted on 
 horseback behind one of the horsemen in his company. The coach- 
 man drove on to Clarendon House, and told the porter that the 
 duke had been seized by two men, who had carried him down 
 Pickadilly. The porter immediately ran that way, and Mr. James 
 Clarke, chancing to be at that time in the court of the house, fol- 
 lowed with all possible haste, having first alarmed the family, and 
 ordered the servants to come after him as fast as they could. 
 Blood, it seems, either to gratify the humour of his patron, who 
 had set him upon this work, or to glut his own revenge by putting 
 his Grace to the same ignominious death which his accompUces in 
 the treasonable design upon Dublin Castle had suffered, had taken 
 a strong fancy into his head to hang the duke at Tyburn. No- 
 thing could have saved his Grace's life, but that extravagant 
 imagination and passion of the villain, who, leaving the duke 
 mounted and buckled to one of his comrades, rode on before, and, 
 as is said, actually tied a rope to the gallows, and then rode back 
 to see what was become of his accomplices, whom he met riding off 
 in a great hurry. The horseman to whom the duke was tied was a 
 person of great strength, but being embarrassed by his Grace's 
 struggling, could not advance as fast as he desired. He was, how- 
 ever, got a good way beyond Berkeley (now Devonshire) House, 
 towards Knightsbridge, when the duke, having got his foot under 
 the man's, unhorsed him, and they both fell down together in the 
 mud, where they were struggling when the porter and Mr. Clarke 
 came up. The villain then disengaged himself, and seeing the 
 neighbourhood alarmed, and numbers of people running towards 
 them, got on horseback, and having, with one of his comrades, 
 fired their pistols at the duke (but missed him, as taking their aim 
 in the dark and in a hurry), rode off as fast as they could to save 
 themselves. The duke (now sixty years of age) was quite spent 
 with struggling, so that when Mr. Clarke and the porter came up, 
 they knew him rather by feeling his star than by any sound of 
 voice he could utter; and they were forced to carry him home and 
 jay him on a bed to recover his spirits. He received some wounds 
 and bruises in the struggle, which confined him within doors for 
 some days. The King, when he heard of this intended assassin- 
 ation of the Duke of Ormond, expressed a great resentment on that 
 occasion, and issued out a proclamation for the discovery and ap- 
 prehension of the miscreants concerned in the attempt.' 
 
 Blood, however, lay concealed, and with his usual success es- 
 
 28 465
 
 NOTES 
 
 caped apprehension. While thus lurking, he entertained and di- 
 gested an exploit evincing the same atrocity which had character- 
 ised the undertakings he had formerly been engaged in ; there was 
 also to be traced in his new device something of that pecuUar dis- 
 position which inclined him to be desirous of adding to the murder 
 of the Duke of Ormond the singular infamy of putting him to 
 death at Tyburn. With something of the same spirit, he now re- 
 solved to show his contempt of monarchy and all its symbols by 
 stealing the crown, sceptre, and other articles of the regaha out of 
 the office in which they were deposited, and enriching himself and 
 his needy associates with the produce of the spoils. This feat, by 
 which Blood is now chiefly remembered, is, like aU his transac- 
 tions, marked with a daring strain of courage and duplicity, and, 
 like most of his undertakings, was very likely to have proved suc- 
 cessful. John Bayley, Esq., in his History and Antiquities of the 
 Tower of London, gives the following distinct account of this 
 curious exploit. At this period, Sir Gilbert Talbot was keeper, as 
 it was called, of the jewel house. 
 
 'It was soon after the appointment of Sir Gilbert Talbot that 
 the regaha in the Tower first became objects of public inspection, 
 which King Charles allowed in consequence of the reduction in 
 the emoluments of the master's office. The profits which arose 
 from showing the jewels to strangers, Sir Gilbert assigned in lieu 
 of a salary to the person whom he had appointed to the care of 
 them. This was an old confidential servant of his father's, one 
 Talbot Edwards, whose name is handed down to posterity as 
 keeper of the regalia, when the notorious attempt to steal the 
 crown was made in the year 1673; the following account of which 
 is chiefly derived from a relation which Mr. Edwards himself 
 made of the transaction. 
 
 'About three weeks before this audacious villain Blood made 
 his attempt upon the crown, he came to the Tower in the habit of 
 a parson, with a long cloak, cassock, and canonical girdle, accom- 
 panied by a woman, whom he called his wife. They desired to see 
 the regaha, and, just as their wishes had been gratified, the lady 
 feigned sudden indisposition; this called forth the kind offices of 
 Mrs. Edwards, the keeper's wife, who, having courteously invited 
 her into their house to repose herself, she soon recovered, and, 
 on their departure, professed themselves thankful for this civility. 
 A few days after. Blood came again, bringing a present to Mrs. 
 Edwards of four pairs of white gloves from his pretended wife; 
 and having thus begun the acquaintance, they made frequent 
 
 466
 
 NOTES 
 
 visits to improve it. After a short respite of their compliments, 
 the disguised ruffian returned again; and in conversation with 
 Mrs. Edwards, said that his wife could discourse of nothing but 
 the kindness of those good people in the Tower; that she had long 
 studied, and at length bethought herself of a handsome way of 
 requital. "You have," quoth he, "a pretty young gentlewoman 
 for your daughter, and I have a young nephew, who has two or 
 three hundred a-year in land, and is at my disposal. If your 
 daughter be free, and you approve it, I 'II bring him here to see her, 
 and we will endeavour to make it a match." This was easily 
 assented to by old Mr. Edwards, who invited the parson to dine 
 with him on that day; he readily accepted the invitation; and tak- 
 ing upon him to say grace, performed it with great seeming de- 
 votion, and casting up his eyes, concluded it with a prayer for the 
 king, queen, and royal family. After dinner, he went up to see the 
 rooms, and observing a handsome case of pistols hang there, ex- 
 pressed a great desire to buy them, to present to a young lord, who 
 was his neighbour — a pretence by which he thought of disarming 
 the house against the period intended for the execution of his de- 
 sign. At his departure, which was a canonical benediction of the 
 good company, he appointed a day and hour to bring his young 
 nephew to see his mistress, which was the very day that he made 
 his daring attempt. The good old gentleman had got up ready to 
 receive his guest, and the daughter was in her best dress to enter- 
 tain her expected lover; when, behold. Parson Blood, with three 
 more, came to the jewel house, all armed with rapier-blades in 
 their canes, and every one a dagger and a brace of pocket-pistols. 
 Two of his companions entered in with him, on pretence of seeing 
 the crown, and the third staid at the door, as if to look after the 
 young lady, a jewel of a more charming description, but in reality 
 as a watch. The daughter, who thought it not modest to come 
 down till she was called, sent the maid to take a view of the com- 
 pany, and bring a description of her gallant; and the servant, con- 
 ceiving that he was the intended bridegroom who staid at the 
 door, being the youngest of the party, returned to soothe the 
 anxiety of her young mistress with the idea she had formed of his 
 person. Blood told Mr. Edwards that they would not go upstairs 
 till his wife came, and desired him to show his friends the crown 
 to pass the time till then; and they had no sooner entered the 
 room, and the door, as usual, shut, than a cloak was thrown over 
 the old man's head and a gag put in his mouth. Thus secured, 
 they told him that their resolution was to have the crown, globe, 
 
 467
 
 NOTES 
 
 and sceptre; and, if he would quietly submit to it, they would 
 spare his life; otherwise he was to expect no mercy. He thereupon 
 endeavoured to make all the noise he possibly could, to be heard 
 above; they then knocked him down with a wooden mallet, and 
 told him that, if yet he would lie quietly, they would spare his life; 
 but if not, upon his next attempt to discover them, they would kill 
 him. Mr. Edwards, however, according to his own account, was 
 not intimidated by this threat, but strained himself to make the 
 greater noise, and in consequence received several more blows on 
 the head with the mallet, and was stabbed in the belly; this again 
 brought the poor old man to the ground, where he lay for some 
 time in so senseless a state that one of the villains pronovmced him 
 dead. Edwards had come a little to himself, and hearing this, lay 
 quietly, conceiving it best to be thought so. The booty was now 
 to be disposed of, and one of them, named Parrot, secreted the 
 orb. Blood held the crown under his cloak; and the third was 
 about to file the sceptre in two, in order that it might be placed in 
 a bag, brought for that purpose; but, fortunately, the son of Mr. 
 Edwards, who had been in Flanders with Sir John Talbot, and, on 
 his landing in England, had obtained leave to come away post to 
 visit his father, happened to arrive whilst this scene was acting; 
 and on coming to the door, the person that stood sentinel asked 
 with whom he would speak; to which he answered, that he be- 
 longed to the house; and, perceiving the person to be a stranger, 
 told him that if he had any business with his father that he would 
 acquaint him with it, and so hastened upstairs to salute his friends. 
 This unexpected accident spread confusion amongst the party, 
 and they instantly decamped with the crown and orb, leaving the 
 sceptre yet unfiled. The aged keeper now raised himself upon his 
 legs, forced the gag from his mouth, and cried, "Treason! murder!" 
 which being heard by his daughter, who was, perhaps, anxiously 
 expecting far other sounds, ran out and reiterated the cry. The 
 alarm now became general, and young Edwards and his brother- 
 in-law, Captain Beckman, ran after the conspirators, whom a 
 warder put himself in a position to stop, but Blood discharged a 
 pistol at him, and he fell, although unhurt, and the thieves pro- 
 ceeded safely to the next post, where one Sill, who had been a sol- 
 dier under Cromwell, stood sentinel ; but he offered no opposition, 
 and they accordingly passed the drawbridge. Horses were waiting 
 for them at St. Catherine's gate; and as they ran that way along 
 the Tower wharf, they themselves cried out, "Stop the rogues!" 
 by which they passed on unsuspected, till Captain Beckman over- 
 
 468
 
 NOTES 
 
 took them. At his head Blood fired another pistol, but missed him, 
 and was seized. Under the cloak of this daring villain was found 
 the crown, and, although he saw himself a prisoner, he had yet the 
 impudence to struggle for his prey; and when it was finally wrested 
 from him, said, "It was a gallant attempt, however unsuccessful: 
 it was for a crown!" Parrot, who had formerly served under 
 General Harrison, was also taken; but Hunt, Blood's son-in-law, 
 reached his horse and rode off, as did two other of the thieves; but 
 he was soon afterwards stopped, and likewise committed to cus- 
 tody. In this struggle and confusion, the great pearl, a large dia- 
 mond, and several smaller stones were lost from the crown ; but 
 the two former, and some of the latter, were afterwards found 
 and restored; and the Ballas ruby, broken off the sceptre, being 
 found in Parrot's pocket, nothing considerable was eventually 
 missing. 
 
 'As soon as the prisoners were secured, young Edwards has- 
 tened to Sir Gilbert Talbot, who was then master and treasurer 
 of the jewel house, and gave him an account of the transaction. 
 Sir Gilbert instantly went to the King and acquainted his Majesty 
 with it ; and his Majesty commanded him to proceed forthwith to 
 the Tower, to see how matters stood, to take the examination of 
 Blood and the others, and to return and report it to him. Sir Gil- 
 bert accordingly went; but the King in the meantime was per- 
 suaded by some about him to hear the examination himself, and 
 the prisoners were in consequence sent for to Whitehall, a cir- 
 cumstance which is supposed to have saved these daring wretches 
 from the gallows.' 
 
 On his examination under such an atrocious charge. Blood 
 audaciously replied, that he would never betray an associate, or 
 defend himself at the expense of uttering a falsehood. He even 
 averred, perhaps, more than was true against himself, when he 
 confessed that he had lain concealed among the reeds for the pur- 
 pose of killing the King with a carabine while Charles was bathing; 
 but he pretended that on this occasion his purpose was discon- 
 certed by a secret awe — appearing to verify the allegation in 
 Shakspeare, 'There's such divinity doth hedge a king, that trea- 
 son can but peep to what it would, acts little of its will.' To this 
 story, true or false. Blood added a declaration that he was at the 
 head of a numerous following, disbanded soldiers and others, who, 
 from motives of religion, were determined to take the life of the 
 King, as the only obstacle to their obtaining freedom of worship 
 and liberty of conscience. These men, he said, would be deter- 
 
 469
 
 NOTES 
 
 mined by his execution to persist in the resolution of putting 
 Charles to death; whereas, he averred that, by sparing his life, 
 the King might disarm a hundred poniards directed against his 
 own. This view of the case made a strong impression on Charles, 
 whose selfishness was uncommonly acute; yet he felt the impro- 
 priety of pardoning the attempt upon the life of the Duke of Or- 
 mond, and condescended to ask that faithful servant's permission 
 before he would exert his authority to spare the assassin. Ormond 
 answered that, 'if the King chose to pardon the attempt to steal 
 his crown, he himself might easily consent that the attempt upon 
 his own life, as a crime of much less importance, should also be 
 forgiven.' Charles, accordingly, not only gave Blood a pardon, 
 but endowed him with a pension of £500 a year; which led many 
 persons to infer, not only that the King wished to preserve him- 
 self from the future attempts of this desperate man, but that he 
 had it also in view to secure the services of so determined a ruffian, 
 in case he should have an opportunity of employing him in his 
 own line of business. There is a striking contrast between the fate 
 of Blood, pensioned and rewarded for this audacious attempt, and 
 that of the faithful Edwards, who may be safely said to have sac- 
 rificed his life in defence of the property entrusted to him! In 
 remuneration for his fidelity and his sufferings, Edwards only ob- 
 tained a grant of £200 from the Exchequer, with £100 to his son; 
 but so little pains were taken about the regular discharge of these 
 donatives, that the parties entitled to them were glad to sell 
 them for half the sum. After this wonderful escape from justice. 
 Blood seems to have affected the airs of a person in favour, and 
 was known to solicit the suits of many of the old Republican party, 
 for whom he is said to have gained considerable indulgences, 
 when the old Cavaliers, who had ruined themselves in the cause of 
 Charles the First, could obtain neither countenance nor restitu- 
 tion. During the ministry called the Cabal, he was high in favour 
 with the Duke of Buckingham; till upon their declension his fa- 
 vour began also to fail, and we find him again engaged in oppos- 
 ition to the court. Blood was not likely to lie idle amid the busy 
 intrigues and factions which succeeded the celebrated discovery of 
 Gates. He appears to have passed again into violent opposition 
 to the court, but his steps were no longer so sounding as to be 
 heard above his contemporaries. North hints at his being involved 
 in a plot against his former friend and patron the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham. The passage is quoted at length in Note 12, p. 454. 
 . The plot, it appears, consisted in an attempt to throw some 
 
 470
 
 NOTES 
 
 scandalous imputation upon the Duke of Buckingham, for a con- 
 spiracy to effect which Edward Christian, Arthur O'Brien, and 
 Thomas Blood were indicted in the King's Bench, and found 
 guilty, 25th June 1680. The damages sued for were laid as high 
 as £10,000, for which Colonel Blood found bail. But he appears to 
 have been severely affected in health, as, 24th August 1680, he 
 departed this life in a species of lethargy. It is remarkable enough 
 that the story of his death and funeral was generally regarded as 
 fabricated, preparative to some exploit of his own; nay, so gen- 
 eral was this report, that the coroner caused his body to be raised, 
 and a jury to sit upon it, for the purpose of ensuring that the cele- 
 brated Blood had at length undergone the common fate of man- 
 kind. There was found unexpected difficulty in proving that the 
 miserable corpse before the jury was that of the celebrated con- 
 spirator. It was at length recognised by some of his acquaintances, 
 who swore to the preternatural size of the thumb, so that the cor- 
 oner, convinced of the identity, remanded this once active, and 
 now quiet, person to his final rest in Tothill Fields. 
 
 Such were the adventures of an individual whose real exploits, 
 whether the motive, the danger, or the character of the enterprises 
 be considered, equal, or rather surpass, those fictions of violence 
 and peril which we love to peruse in romance. They cannot, there- 
 fore, be deemed foreign to a work dedicated, like the present, to 
 the preservation of extraordinary occurrences, whether real or 
 fictitious. 
 
 Note 23, p. 442 
 
 This little piece of superstition was suggested by the following 
 incident. The Author of Waverley happened to be standing by 
 with other gentlemen, while the captain of the Selkirk Yeomanry 
 was purchasing a horse for the use of his trumpeter. The animal 
 offered was a handsome one, and neither the officer, who was an 
 excellent jockey, nor any one present, could see any imperfection 
 in wind or limb. But a person happened to pass, who was 
 asked to give an opinion. This man was called Blind Willie, who 
 drove a small trade in cattle and horses, and, what seemed as ex- 
 traordinary, in watches, notwithstanding his having been born 
 blind. He was accounted to possess a rare judgment in these sub- 
 jects of traffic. So soon as he had examined the horse in question, 
 he immediately pronounced it to have something of his own com- 
 plaint, and, in plain words, stated it to be blind, or verging upon 
 that imperfection, which was found to be the case on close cxam- 
 
 471
 
 NOTES 
 
 ination. None present had suspected this fault in the animal; 
 which is not wonderful, considering that it may frequently exist 
 without any appearance in the organ affected. BHnd Willie, being 
 asked how he made a discovery imperceptible to so many gentle- 
 men who had their eyesight, explained that, after feeling the 
 horse's limbs, he laid one hand on its heart, and drew the other 
 briskly across the animal's eyes, when, finding no increase in puls- 
 ation in consequence of the latter motion, he had come to the con- 
 clusion that the horse must be blind.
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 a, in, he. 
 
 accompt, an account. 
 
 ail, to come in the way of, to pre- 
 vent. 
 
 Alsatia, a sanctuary in Whitefriars, 
 London. 
 
 an, if, and. 
 
 assoilzied, acquitted. 
 
 awa, away. 
 
 baggage, a young woman. 
 
 bairn, a child. 
 
 baldric, a shoulder-belt to support a 
 sword or a bugle. 
 
 bale, misery, calamity. 
 
 bandoleer, a shoulder-belt. 
 
 barmoot court, a petty court for set- 
 tling minor disputes. 
 
 Bams-elms, a favourite place of re- 
 sort near Mortlake, Surrey. 
 
 baton, to die under the, to be beaten 
 to death. 
 
 beaufet, beauffet, a sideboard, a re- 
 freshment bar. 
 
 beaver, a hat. 
 
 belly-timber, food. 
 
 bilboa, a famous Spanish sword. 
 
 black ban dog, a dog chained or tied 
 up, a mastiff or bloodhound. 
 
 black-pudding, a kind of sausage 
 made of blood and suet. 
 
 blink, a twinkling. 
 
 blood-stick, a piece of hard wood 
 loaded at one end with lead. 
 
 blythe, happy, merry. 
 
 body of me, a popular oath. 
 
 bonny, pretty, lovely. 
 
 boree, bourree, a kind of dance. 
 
 bosom-friend, an article of wearing 
 apparel to protect the bosom from 
 cold. 
 
 broad -piece, a gold coin worth 205. 
 
 brown-bill, a military weapon, painted 
 brown. 
 
 budget, a bag. 
 
 buskin, a high boot with thick soles. 
 
 cabala, a secret system of theology 
 and magic current among the 
 Jews. 
 
 caftan, a long under-tunic or vest 
 tied at the waist with a girdle. 
 
 canaglia, a rabble, a mob. 
 
 caroche, a coach of a stately and 
 luxurious kind. 
 
 cartel, a challenge. 
 
 carwhichet, fun, a conundrum. 
 
 cast, sort, kind; also, a 'lift' by way 
 of conveyance. 
 
 casting-bottle, a bottle for sprinkling 
 perfumed waters. 
 
 chauflfette, a foot-warmer, a chafing- 
 dish. 
 
 chaussee, chasse, a step in dancing. 
 
 chouse, cheat. 
 
 clodpate, a blockhead. 
 
 cock and pie, an oath consisting of an 
 adjuration cf the Deity and the 
 Roman Catholic service book. 
 
 congee, a bow. 
 
 corking-pin, a pin of the largest izse. 
 
 counter, the breast of a horse. 
 
 coup-jarrets, paid assassins. 
 
 crambo, a game which consisted in 
 finding rhymes to a given word. 
 
 cross, a silver coin bearing the device 
 of a cross. 
 
 cuckoldy, cuckoldly, a term of revil- 
 ing or abuse. 
 
 darbies, handcuffs, fetters, 
 dew-beaters, a slang term for the 
 
 feet, 
 doctor, a cant name for false dice, 
 dog-bolt, a fool, a butt. 
 dogger, a fishing vessel, 
 dorimont, a dandy of the period, 
 doublet, a vest. 
 
 473
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 drabb'd, associated with harlots. 
 drawcansir, a blustering bully who 
 
 in battle kills every one on both 
 
 sides. 
 
 eidolon, a phantom. 
 
 eld, antiquity. 
 
 enow, enough. 
 
 equivoque, double meaning, ambigu- 
 ity of speech. 
 
 estramajon, a term in sword play. 
 
 execution dock at Wapping, where the 
 bodies of criminals were left to be 
 overflowed by three tides. 
 
 fetlocks, an apparatus fixed on the 
 leg of a horse to keep it from run- 
 ning away. 
 
 fico, a fig. 
 
 flambeaux, torches borne by liveried 
 footmen prior to the age of lamps. 
 
 fox, old slang for sword. 
 
 frampal, unruly, evil-conditioned. 
 
 frumps, a sulky fit. 
 
 ga', go. 
 
 gaffer, an old man, master. 
 
 gear, affair, matter. 
 
 gestic art, dancing. 
 
 green, new, fresh, unseasoned. 
 
 halberd, a military weapon combin- 
 ing spear and battle-axe. 
 
 baud, hauld, hold. 
 
 hays, an old country dance. 
 
 hazard, a game at dice and at cards. 
 
 herring-buss, a boat used in the her- 
 ring fishery. 
 
 hoicks! a call used in hunting to in- 
 cite the hounds. 
 
 hogan-mogan, Dutch. 
 
 houri, a nymph of the Mohammedan 
 Paradise. 
 
 howlet, an owl. 
 
 huck-a-back, a stout linen fabric. 
 
 hundsfoot, a rascal. 
 
 hustle-cap, a game of chance and skill 
 played with halfpence. 
 
 Jacobus, a gold coin worth 205., first 
 
 issued by James I of England. 
 jerkin, a jacket. 
 
 kit, a small violin used by dancing 
 
 masters. 
 knipperdolings, another name for 
 
 Anabaptists. 
 
 list, please, wish. 
 
 lubbard, a lubber, a stupid fellow. 
 
 lug out upon, draw sword against. 
 
 madge-howlet, the owl is called 
 madge (from magistrate) owing to 
 its air of wisdom. 
 
 main, the cast (at dice). 
 
 malapert, impertinent. 
 
 mall, a game of ball played in a 
 smooth alley boarded on either 
 side, and with an iron arch at the 
 end. 
 
 malmsey noses, red by reason of 
 Malmsey wine. 
 
 martialist, a warrior, a military man. 
 
 maunna, must not. 
 
 micher, a truant, a thief, 
 
 Montague House, on the site now oc- 
 cupied by the British Museum. 
 
 montero cap, a huntsman's cap pro- 
 vided with flaps. 
 
 morion, a kind of helmet without a 
 visor. 
 
 morris, a fantastic dance. 
 
 mote, a place of meeting. 
 
 mum, a kind of liquor. 
 
 murrain, a plague. 
 
 musketoon, a short musket with a 
 large bore. 
 
 nab, to steal. 
 
 nantz, a kind of brandy. 
 
 naunt, a corruption of ' mine aunt.' 
 
 nepenthe, a care-dispelling drug. 
 
 odds, a corruption of God's. 
 
 odds-fish, a conventional exclama- 
 tion. 
 
 oddzooks, a corruption of God's 
 hooks. 
 
 ombre, a Spanish game of cards. 
 
 padder, a highway robber. 
 partizan, a kind of long-handled 
 
 spear. 
 passengers, passers-by. 
 
 474
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 pendables, gallows-birds. 
 
 petronel, a kind of large horse-pistol. 
 
 piccoluomini, an Italian word signify- 
 ing 'little man.' 
 
 pineal gland, the seat of the soul ac- 
 cording to some philosophers. 
 
 pinguitude, fatness. 
 
 pink, a sailing-vessel with a narrow 
 stern. 
 
 pink, to stab with a rapier. 
 
 plats, dishes. 
 
 point of fox, the sword-point. 
 
 postern door, a private or side door. 
 
 potsherds, broken pieces of earthen- 
 ware. 
 
 prick-eared, having the hair cut 
 short and close, so that the ears are 
 prominent. 
 
 projection, a term in alchemy signify- 
 ing the transmuting of a metal. 
 
 provant rapier, a sword supplied from 
 the army stores. 
 
 quacksalver, a quack. 
 quadrille, a game played by four per- 
 sons with forty cards. 
 quodlibet, a nice point, a subtlety. 
 
 raree-show, a show contained in a 
 box, a peep-show. 
 
 ratafia, a beverage of ardent spirits 
 flavoured with fruit. 
 
 rejmard, a fox. 
 
 roquelaure, a cloak reaching to the 
 knee, named after the inventor. 
 
 Rosicrucian, a member of a society of 
 mystics and alchemists who pro- 
 fessed to trans te metals, etc. 
 
 ruffle, a disturbance. 
 
 ruffling, quarrelling. 
 
 sally-port, a passage out of a fortress. 
 saraband, a Spanish dance, 
 scrivener, one whose occupation is 
 
 the drawing of contracts, etc. 
 scurvy, discourteous. 
 
 sea-coal, an old name for coal. 
 
 short-hough'd, short-legged. 
 
 shot, expense, charge. 
 
 skean, a skein. 
 
 skelder, beg, cheat, swindle. 
 
 slaver, saliva. 
 
 stir, disturb; never stir, don't be dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 stretcher, a narrow piece of plank for 
 rowers to set their feet against. 
 
 stricken, whole, entire. 
 
 syncope, contraction, amalgamation. 
 
 tantivy, at a violent gallop. 
 
 tappice, to squat, to crouch. 
 
 tight, trim, tidy. 
 
 tilt, an awning. 
 
 timeously, in good time, seasona- 
 bly. 
 
 trap-ball, a game played with a trap, 
 bat, and ball. 
 
 traverse, to use the postures of oppo- 
 sition, as in fencing. 
 
 trepan, snare 
 
 trow, think, believe. 
 
 trunnion, a truncheon, a short staff, a 
 cudgel. 
 
 twiggen, encased in twigs. 
 
 voie de fait, act of violence. 
 volte-face, wheel round. 
 
 wannion, vengeance. 
 
 war-caper, a privateer. 
 
 wassail, ale or wine spiced; also, a 
 
 festival. 
 weather-headed, sheepish-looking; 
 
 possibly a corruption of wether- 
 
 hcadcd. 
 wench, a young woman, 
 whimsy, a whim, a prank, 
 whinger, whinyard, a sword, a 
 
 hanger. 
 whinstone, trap or greenstone, 
 winna, will not. 
 wrack, ruin, destruction.
 
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