w
 
 For Readin> Room Only
 
 ^^^^--^C^ 
 
 UNIVERSITY of CALIFORNIA. 
 
 AT 
 
 LOS ^mv■ ^s 
 
 LIBRAKi: 

 
 WOODSTOCK ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CAVALIER. 
 
 A TALE 
 
 or THE 
 
 YEAR SIXTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY-ONE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " WAVERLEY, 
 TALES OF THE CRUSADERS," &c. 
 
 He was a very perfect gentle Knight. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 J > ? > > 
 
 PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO. EDlNBURGrlV ' ' 
 AND LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROMTST, AND GREEN, 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 1826. 
 
 . i} » ?^< U ^\
 
 c « ' 
 
 ■ t c 
 « c ,
 
 J 
 
 
 \ . 
 J 
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 \ 
 
 It is not my purpose to inform my readers 
 how the manuscripts of that eminent anti- 
 quary, the Rev. J. A. Rochecliffe, D.D., 
 ^ came into my possession. There are many 
 vi ways in which such things happen, and it 
 ys^ is enough to say they were rescued from 
 an unworthy fate, and that they were ho- 
 nestly come by. As for the authenticity 
 ^ of the anecdotes which I have gleaned from 
 ^ the writings of this excellent person, and 
 «^ put together with my own unrivalled faci- 
 ^ lity, the name of Doctoi- Rochecliffe will 
 warrant accuracy, wherever that name hap- 
 pens to be known.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 With his history the reading part of the 
 world are well acquainted ; and we might 
 refer the tyro to honest Anthony a Wood, 
 who looked up to him as one of the pillars 
 of High Church, and bestows on him an 
 exemplary character in the AihenKB Oxo- 
 nienses, although the Doctor was educated 
 at Cambridge, England's other eye- 
 It is well known that Doctor Rochecliffe 
 early obtained preferment in the Church, 
 on account of the spirited share which he 
 took in the controversy with the Puritans; 
 and that his work, entitled Malleus Hce- 
 rests, was considered as a knock-down blow 
 by all, except those who received it. It was 
 that work which made him, at the early 
 age of thirty. Rector of Woodstock, and 
 which afterwards secured him a place in 
 the Catalogue of the celebrated Century 
 ^Vhite ; — and, worse than being shown up 
 by that fanatic, among the catalogues of 
 scandalous and malignant priests admitted
 
 I'lfEFACF. VU 
 
 into benefices by the prelates, his opinions 
 occasioned the loss of his living of Wood- 
 stock by the ascendency of Presbytery. He 
 was chaplain, during most part of the Civil 
 War, to Sir Henry Lee's regiment, levied 
 for the service of King Charles ; and it was 
 said he engaged more than once personally 
 in the field. At least it is certain that Doc- 
 tor Rochecliffe was repeatedly in great dan- 
 ger, as will appear from more passages than 
 one in the following history, which speaks 
 of his own exploits, like Caesar, in the third 
 person. I suspect, however, some Presby- 
 terian commentator has been guilty of in- 
 terpolating two or three passages. The 
 manuscript was long in possession of the 
 Everards, a distinguished family of that 
 persuasion. 
 
 During the Usurpation, Doctor Roche- 
 cliffe was constantly engaged in one or 
 other of the premature attempts at a res- 
 toration of monarchy ; and was accounted,
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 for his audacity, presence of mind, and 
 depth of judgment, one of the greatest un- 
 dertakers for the King in that busy time ; 
 with this trifling drawback, that the plots 
 in which he busied himself were almost con- 
 stantly detected. Nay, it was suspected that 
 Cromwell himself sometimes contrived to 
 suggest to him the intrigues in which he 
 engaged, by which means the wily Protec- 
 tor made experiments on the fidelity of 
 doubtful friends, and became well acquaint- 
 ed with the plots of declared enemies, which 
 he thought it more easy to disconcert and 
 disappoint than to punish severely. 
 
 Upon the Restoration, Doctor RocheclifFe 
 regained his living of Woodstock, with 
 other church preferment, and gave up pole- 
 mics and political intrigues for philosophy. 
 He was one of the constituent members of 
 the Royal Society, and was the person 
 through whom Charles required of that 
 learned body solution of their curious pro-
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 blem, " Why, if a vessel is filled brimful of 
 water, and a large live fish plunged into 
 the water, nevertheless it shall not overflow 
 the pitcher ?" Doctor Rochecliffe's exposi- 
 tion of this phenomenon was the most in- 
 genious and instructive of four that were 
 given in ; and it is certain the Doctor must 
 have gained the honour of the day, but for 
 the obstinacy of a plain, dull, country gen- 
 tleman, who insisted that the experiment 
 should be, in the first place, publicly tried. 
 When this was done, the event showed it 
 would have been rather rash to have adopt- 
 ed the facts exclusively on the royal autho- 
 rity ; as the fish, however curiously insert- 
 ed into his native element, splashed the wa- 
 ter over the hall, and destroyed the credit 
 of four ingenious essayists, besides a large 
 Turkey carpet. 
 
 Doctor Rochecliffe, it would seem, died 
 about 1685, leaving many papers behind 
 him of various kinds, and, above all, many
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 valuable anecdotes of secret history, from 
 which the following Memoirs have been ex- 
 tracted, on which we intend to say only a 
 few words by way of illustration. 
 
 The existence of Rosamond's Labyrinth, 
 mentioned in these pages, is attested by 
 Drayton in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 " Rosamond's Labyrinth, whose ruins, 
 together with her Well, being paved with 
 square stones in the bottom, and also her 
 Tower, from which the Labyrinth did run, 
 are yet remaining, being vaults arched and 
 walled with stone and brick, almost inex- 
 tricably wound within one another, by 
 which, if at any time her lodging were 
 laid about by the Queen, she might easily 
 avoid peril imminent, and, if need be, by 
 secret issues take the air abroad, many fur- 
 longs about Woodstock, in Oxfordshire," * 
 
 * Drayton's England's Heroical Epistles, Note A, on 
 the Epistle, Rosamond to King Henry.
 
 PllEFACE. XI 
 
 It is highly probable, that a singular 
 piece of phantasmagoria, which was cer- 
 tainly played off upon the Commissioners 
 of the Long Parliament, who were sent 
 down to dispark and destroy Woodstock, 
 after the death of Charles I., was conduct- 
 ed by means of the secret passages and re- 
 cesses in the ancient Labyrinth of Rosa- 
 mond, around which successive Monarchs 
 had erected a Hunting-seat or Lodge. 
 
 There is a curious account of the disturb- 
 ance given to those Honourable Commis- 
 sioners, inserted by Doctor Plot, in his Na- 
 tural History of Oxfordshire. But as I 
 have not the book at hand, I can only al- 
 lude to the work of the celebrated Glanville 
 upon Witches, who has extracted it as an 
 highly accredited narrative of supernatu- 
 ral dealings. The beds of the Commission- 
 ers, and their servants, were hoisted up 
 till they were almost inverted, and then let
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 down again so suddenly, as to menace them 
 with broken bones. Unusual and horrible 
 noises disturbed those sacrilegious intro- 
 mitters with royal property. The devil, 
 on one occasion, brought them a warming- 
 pan ; on another, pelted them with stones 
 and horses' bones. Tubs of water were 
 emptied on them in their sleep ; and so 
 many other pranks of the same nature 
 played at their expense, that they broke up 
 housekeeping, and left their intended spo- 
 liation only half completed. The good sense 
 of Doctor Plot suspected, that these feats 
 were wrought by conspiracy and confeder- 
 ation, which Glanville of course endeavours 
 to refute with all his might ; for it could 
 scarce be expected, that he who believed in 
 so convenient a solution as that of super- 
 natural agency, would consent to relinquish 
 the service of a key, which will answer any 
 lock, however intricate.
 
 rilEFACE. Xlll 
 
 Nevertheless, it was afterwards discover- 
 ed, that Doctor Plot was perfectly right ; 
 and that the only demon who wrought all 
 these marvels, was a disguised royalist — 
 a fellow called Trusty Joe, or some such 
 name, formerly in the service of the Keep- 
 er of the Park, but who engaged in that of 
 the Commissioners, on purpose to subject 
 them to his persecution. I think I have 
 seen some account of the real state of the 
 transaction, and of the machinery by which 
 the wizard worked his wonders ; but whe- 
 ther in a book, or a pamphlet, I am uncer- 
 tain. I remember one passage particularly 
 to this purpose. The Commissioners having 
 agreed to retain some articles out of the 
 public account, in order to be divided among 
 themselves, had entered into an indenture 
 for ascertaining their share in the peculation, 
 which they hid in a bow-pot for security. 
 Now, when an assembly of divines, aided
 
 XIV PREFACE. 
 
 by the most strict religious characters in 
 the neighbourhood of Woodstock, were as- 
 sembled to conjure down the supposed de- 
 mon. Trusty Joe had contrived a fire-work, 
 which he let off in the midst of the exor- 
 cism, and which destroyed the bow-pot ; 
 and, to the shame and confusion of the 
 Commissioners, threw their secret inden- 
 ture into the midst of the assembled ghost- 
 seers, who became thus acquainted with 
 their schemes of peculation. 
 
 It is, however, to little purpose for me 
 to strain my memory about ancient and 
 imperfect recollections concerning the par- 
 ticulars of these fantastic disturbances at 
 Woodstock, since Doctor Rochecliffe's pa- 
 pers give such a much more accurate nar- 
 rative than could be obtained from any ac- 
 count in existence before their publication. 
 Indeed, I might have gone much more fully 
 into this part of my subject, for the mate-
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 rials are ample ; — but, to tell the reader 
 a secret, some friendly critics were of opi- 
 nion they made the story hang on hand ; 
 and thus I was prevailed on to be more 
 concise on the subject than I might other- 
 wise have been. 
 
 The impatient reader, perhaps, is by this 
 time accusing me of keeping the sun from 
 him with a candle. Were the sunshine as 
 bright, however, as it is likely to prove ; 
 and the flambeau, or link, a dozen of times 
 as smoky, my friend must remain in the 
 inferior atmosphere a minute longer, while 
 I disclaim the idea of poaching on another's 
 manor. Hawks, we say, in Scotland, ought 
 not to pick out hawks' eyes, or tire upon 
 each other's quarry ; and, therefore, if I had 
 known that, in its date and its characters, 
 this tale was like to interfere with that re- 
 cently published by a distinguished contem- 
 porary, I should unquestionably have left
 
 XVI PREFACE. 
 
 Doctor Rochecliffe's manuscript in peace 
 for the present season. But before I was 
 aware of this circumstance, this little book 
 was half through the press ; and I had only 
 the alternative of avoiding any intentional 
 imitation, by delaying a perusal of the con- 
 temporary work in question. Some acci- 
 dental collision there must be, when works 
 of a similar character are finished on the 
 same general system of historical manners, 
 and the same historical personages are in- 
 troduced. Of course, if such have occurred, 
 I shall be probably the sufferer. But my 
 intentions have been at least innocent, since 
 I look on it as one of the advantages attend- 
 ing the conclusion of Woodstock, that the 
 finishing of my own task will permit me to 
 have the pleasure of reading Bramble- 
 TYE-HousE, from which I have hitherto 
 conscientiously abstained.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 VOL. 1.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Some were for gospel ministers. 
 And some for red-coat seculars, 
 As men most fit t' liold forth tlie word, 
 And wield the one and th' other sword. 
 
 Butler's Hudlbras. 
 
 1 HERE is a handsome parish church in the town 
 of Woodstock, — I am told so at least, for I never 
 saw it, having scarce time, when at the place, to 
 view the magnificence of Blenheim, its painted 
 halls, and tapestried bowers, and then return in 
 due season to dine in hall with my learned friend, 
 
 the provost of ; being one of those occasions 
 
 on which a man wrongs himself extremely, if he 
 lets his curiosity interfere with his punctuality. I 
 had the church accurately described to mc, with
 
 4« WOODSTOCK. 
 
 a view to this work ; but, as I have some reason 
 to doubt whether my informant had ever seen the 
 inside of it himself, I will be content to say that 
 it is now a handsome edifice, most part of which 
 was rebuilt forty or fifty years since, although it 
 still contains some arches of the old chantry, 
 founded, it is said, by King John. But it is to 
 this more ancient part of the building that my 
 story refers. 
 
 Upon a morning in the end of September, or 
 beginning of October, in the year 1652, being a 
 day appointed for a solemn thanksgiving for the 
 decisive victory at Worcester, a respectable au- 
 dience was assembled in the old chantry, or cha- 
 pel of King John. The condition of the church 
 and character of the audience both bore witness 
 to the rage of civil war, and the peculiar spirit of 
 the times. The sacred edifice showed many marks 
 of dilapidation. The windows, once filled with 
 stained glass, had been dashed to pieces with 
 pikes and muskets, as matters of and pertaining 
 to idolatry. The carving on the reading-desk 
 was damaged, and two fair screens of beautiful 
 sculptured oak had been destroyed, for the same
 
 WOODSTOCK. 5 
 
 pithy and conclusive reason. The higfi altar had 
 been removed, and the gilded railing, which was 
 once around it, was broken down and carried off. 
 The effigies of several tombs were mutilated, and 
 now lay scattered about the church. 
 
 Torn from their destined niche, unworthy meed 
 Of knightly counsel or heroic deed. 
 
 The autuinn wind piped through empty aisles, in 
 which the remains of stakes and trevisses of rough- 
 hewn timber, as well as a quantity of scattered 
 hay and trampled straw, seemed to intimate that 
 the hallowed precincts had been, upon some late 
 emergency, made the quarters of a troop of horse. 
 The audience, like the building, was abated 
 in splendour. None of the ancient and habitual 
 worshippers during peaceful times, were now to 
 be seen in their carved galleries, with hands sha- 
 dowing their brows, while composing their minds 
 to pray where their fathers had prayed, and af- 
 ter the same mode of worship. The eye of the 
 yeoman and peasant sought in vain the tall form 
 of old Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley, as, wrapped 
 in his laced cloak, and with beard and whiskers 
 duly composed, he moved slowly through the
 
 G WOODSTOCK. 
 
 aisles, followed by the faithful mastiff, or blood- 
 hound, which in old time had saved his master by 
 his fidelity, and which regularly followed him to 
 church. Bevis, indeed, fell under the proverb 
 which avers, " He is a good dog which goes to 
 chm-ch ;" for, bating an occasional temptation to 
 warble along with the accord, he behaved himself 
 as decorously as any of the congregation, and 
 returned as much edified, perhaps, as some of 
 them. The damsels of Woodstock looked as 
 vainly for the laced cloaks, jingling spui's, slash- 
 ed boots, and tall plumes, of the young cavaliers 
 of this and other high-born houses, moving 
 through the streets and the church-yard with the 
 careless ease, which indicates perhaps rather an 
 overweening degree of self-confidence, yet shows 
 gracefvd when mingled with good humour and 
 courtesy. The good old dames, too, in their 
 white hoods and black velvet gowns — their daugh - 
 ters, " the cynosure of neighbouring eyes," — 
 where were they all now, who, when they en- 
 tered the church, used to divide men's thoughts 
 between them and Heaven ? " But, ah ! Alice 
 Lee — so sweet, so gentle, so condescending in thy
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 loveliness — [thus proceeds a contemporary an- 
 nalist, whose manuscript we have deciphered] 
 —why is my story to turn upon thy fallen for- 
 tunes ? and why not rather to the period when, 
 in the very dismounting from your palfrey, you 
 attracted as many eyes as if an angel had descend- 
 ed, — as many blessings as if the benignant be- 
 ing had come fraught with good tidings ? No 
 creature wert thou of an idle romancer's imagi- 
 nation — no being fantastically bedizened with in- 
 consistent perfections ; — thy merits made me love 
 thee well — and for thy faults — I think they made 
 me love thee better." 
 
 With the house of Lee had disappeared from 
 the chantry of King John others of gentle blood 
 and honoured lineage, — Freemantles, Winkle- 
 combes, Drycotts, &c. ; for the air that blew over 
 the towers of Oxford was unfavourable to the 
 growth of Puritanism, which was more general 
 in the neighbouring counties. There were among 
 the congregation, however, one or two that, by 
 their habits and demeanour, seemed country gen- 
 tlemen of consideration, and there were also pre_ 
 sent some of the notables of the town of Wood- 
 stock, cutlers or glovers chiefly, whose skill in
 
 8 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 steel or leather had raised them to a comfortable 
 livelihood. These dignitaries wore long black 
 cloaks, plaited close at the neck, and, like peace- 
 ful citizens, carried their Bibles and memoran- 
 dum-books at their girdles, instead of knife or 
 sword. This respectable, but least numerous 
 part of the audience, were such decent persons as 
 had adopted the Presbyterian form of faith, re- 
 nouncing the liturgy and hierarchy of the Church 
 of England, and living under the tuition of the 
 Rev. Nehemiah Holdenough, much famed for the 
 length and strength of his powers of predication. 
 With these grave seniors sate their goodly dames 
 in ruff and gorget, like the portraits which in 
 catalogues of paintings are designed " wife of a 
 burgo-masterf and their pretty daughters, whose 
 study, like that of Chaucer''s physician, was not 
 always in the Bible, but who were, on the con- 
 trary, when a glance could escape the vigilance 
 of their honoured mothers, inattentive themselves, 
 and the cause of inattention in others. 
 
 But, besides these dignified persons, there 
 were in the church a numerous collection of the 
 lower orders, some brought thither by curiosity, 
 but many of them unwashed artificers, be-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 9 
 
 wildered in the theological discussions of the 
 time, and of as many various sects as there are 
 colours in the rainbow. The presumption of 
 these learned Thebans being in exact proportion 
 to their ignorance, the last was total, and the first 
 boundless. Their behaviour in the church was 
 anything but reverential or edifying. Most of 
 them affected a cynical contempt for all that was 
 only held sacred by human sanction — the church 
 was to these men but a steeple-house, the clergy- 
 man, an ordinary person ; her ordinances, dry 
 bran and sapless pottage, unfitted for the spiri- 
 tualized palates of the saints, and the prayer, an 
 address to Heaven, to which each acceded or not, 
 as in his too critical judgment he conceived fit. 
 
 The elder amongst them sate or lay on the 
 benches, with their high steeple-crowned hats 
 pulled over their severe and knitted brows, wait- 
 ing for the Presbyterian parson, as mastiffs sit 
 in dumb expectation of the bull that is to be 
 brought to the stake. The younger mixed, some 
 of them, a bolder licence of manners with their 
 heresies ; they gazed round on the women, yawn- 
 ed, coughed, and whispered, eat apples and crack-
 
 10 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ed nuts, as if in the gallery of a theatre ere the 
 piece commences. 
 
 Besides all these, the congregation contained 
 a few soldiers, some in corslets and steel caps, 
 some in buff, and others in red coats. These men 
 of war had their baudeliers, with ammunition, 
 slung round them, and rested on their pikes and 
 muskets. They, too, had their peculiar doctrines 
 on the most difficult points of religion, and uni- 
 ted the extravagances of enthusiasm with the most 
 determined courage and resolution in the field. 
 The burghers of Woodstock looked on these 
 military saints with no small degree of awe ; for 
 though not often sullied with deeds of plunder 
 or cruelty, they had the power of both absolute- 
 ly in their hands, and the peaceful citizens had 
 no alternative, save submission to whatever the 
 ill-regulated and enthusiastic imaginations of their 
 martial guides might suggest. 
 
 After some time spent in waiting for him, Mr 
 Holdenough began to walk up the aisles of the 
 chapel, not with the slow and dignified carriage 
 with which the old Rector was of yore wont to 
 maintain the dignity of the surplice, but with a
 
 WOODSTOCK. 11 
 
 liasty step, like one who arrives too late at an ap- 
 pointment, and bustles forward to make the best 
 use of his time. He was a tall thin man, with 
 an adust complexion, and the vivacity of his eye 
 indicated some irascibility of temperament. His 
 dress was brown, not black, and over his other 
 vestments he wore, in honour of Calvin, a Geneva 
 cloak of a blue colour, which fell backward from 
 his shoulders as he posted on to the pulpit. His 
 grizzled hair was cut as short as shears could per- 
 form the feat, and covered with a black silk skull- 
 cap, which stuck so close to his head, that the two 
 ears expanded from under it as if they had been 
 intended as handles by which to lift the whole 
 person. Moreover the worthy divine wore spec- 
 tacles, and a long grizzled peaked beard, and he 
 carried in his hand a small pocket-bible with sil- 
 ver clasps. Upon arriving at the pulpit, he 
 paused a moment to take breath, then began to 
 ascend the steps by two at a time. 
 
 But his course was arrested by a strong hand, 
 which seized his cloak. It was that of one who 
 had detached himself from the group of soldiery, 
 He was a stout man of middle stature, with a
 
 12 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 quick eye,ancl a countenance which, though plain, 
 had yet an expression that fixed the attention. 
 His dress, though not strictly military, partook of 
 that character. He wore large hose made of 
 calves-leather, and a tuck, as it was then called, or 
 rapier, of tremendous length, balanced on the 
 othe* side by a dagger. The belt was morocco, 
 garnished with pistols. 
 
 The minister, thus intercepted in his duty, 
 faced round upon the party who had seized him, 
 and demanded in no gentle tone the meaning of 
 the interruption. 
 
 " Friend," quoth the intruder, " is it thy pur- 
 pose to hold forth to these good people ?" 
 
 " Ay, marry is it," said the clergyman, " and 
 such is my bounden duty. Woe to me if I preach 
 not the gospel — Prithee, friend, let me not in my 
 labour." 
 
 "Nay," said the man of warlike mien, " I am 
 myself minded to hold forth ; therefore, do thou 
 desist, or if thou wilt do by mine advice, remain 
 and fructify with those poor goslings, to whom, I 
 am presently about to shake forth the crumbs of 
 comfortable doctrine."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 13 
 
 " Give place, thou man of Satan,"" said the 
 priest, waxing wroth, " respect mine order — my 
 cloth." 
 
 " I see no more to respect in the cut of thy 
 cloak, or in the cloth of which it is fashioned,"" 
 said the other, " than thou didst in the Bishop's 
 rocket — they were black and white, thou art blue 
 and brown. Sleeping dogs every one of you, 
 lying down, loving to slumber — shepherds that 
 starve the flock, but will not watch it, each look- 
 ing to his own gain — hum."" 
 
 Scenes of this indecent kind were so com- 
 mon at the time, that no one thought of interfe- 
 ring ; the congregation looked on in silence, the 
 better class scandalized, and the lower orders, 
 some laughing, and others backing the soldier or 
 minister as their fancy dictated. Meantime the 
 struggle waxed fiercer; Mr Holdenough clamour- 
 ed for assistance. 
 
 " Mr Mayor of Woodstock," he exclaimed, 
 " wilt thou be among those wicked magistrates 
 who bear the sword in vain ? — Citizens, will you 
 not help your pastor ?■ — Worthy Aldermen, will 
 you see me strangled on the pulpit stairs by this
 
 14 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 man of buff and Belial ? — But lo, I will overcome 
 him, and cast his cords from me."" 
 
 As Holdenough spoke, he struggled to ascend 
 the pulpit stairs, holding hard on the bannisters. 
 His tormentor held fast by the skirts of the cloak, 
 which went nigh to the choking of the wearer, 
 until, as he spoke the words last mentioned, 
 in a half-strangled voice, Mr Holdenough dex- 
 terously shpped the string which tied it round 
 his neck, so that the garment suddenly gave 
 way ; the soldier fell backwards down the steps, 
 and the liberated divine skipped into his pul- 
 pit, and began to give forth a psalm of triumph 
 over his prostrate adversary. But a great hubbub 
 in tlie church marred his triumph, and although 
 he and his faithful clerk continued to sing the 
 hymn of victory, their notes were only heard by 
 fits, like the whistle of a curlieu during a gale of 
 wind. 
 
 The cause of the tumult was as follows : — The 
 Mayor was a zealous Presbyterian, and witnessed 
 the intrusion of the soldier with great indignation 
 from the very beginning, though he hesitated to 
 interfere with an armed man while on his legs and 
 
 7
 
 WOODSTOCK. 15 
 
 capable of resistance. But no sooner did he be- 
 hold the champion of independency sprawling on 
 his back, with the divine's Geneva cloak flutter- 
 ing in his hands, than the magistrate rushed for- 
 ward, exclaiming that such insolence was not to be 
 endured, and ordered his constables to seize the 
 prostrate champion, proclaiming, in the magnani- 
 mity of wrath, " I will commit every red-coat of 
 them all — I will commit him were he Noll Crom- 
 well himself" 
 
 The worthy Mayoi'^s indignation had over- 
 mastered his reason when he made this mistimed 
 vaunt ; for three soldiers, who had hitherto stood 
 motionless like statues, made each a stride in 
 advance, which placed them betwixt the munici- 
 pal officers and the soldier who was in the act of 
 arising ; then making at once the movement of 
 resting arms according to the manual as then prac- 
 tised, their musket-butts rang on the church pave- 
 ment, within an inch of the gouty toes of Master 
 Mayor. The energetic magistrate, whose efforts 
 in favour of order were thus checked, cast one 
 glance on his supporters, but that was enough to 
 show him that force was not on his side. All 
 had shrunk back on hearing that ominous clatter
 
 16 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 of Stone and iron. He was obliged to descend to 
 expostulation. 
 
 " What do you mean, my masters ?'''' said he ; 
 " is it like a decent and God-fearing soldiery, 
 who have wrought such things for the land as 
 have never before been heard of, to brawl and 
 riot in the church, or to aid, abet, and comfort a 
 profane fellow, who hath, upon a solemn thanks- 
 giving, excluded the minister from his own pul- 
 pit .?" 
 
 " We have nought to do with thy church, as 
 thou call'st it," said he who by a small feather 
 in front of his morion appeared to be the corpo- 
 ral of the party ; — " we see not why men of gifts 
 should not be heard within these citadels of su- 
 perstition, as well as the voice of the men of crape 
 of old, and the men of cloak now. Wherefore 
 we will pluck yon Jack Presbyter out of his 
 wooden sentinel-box, and our own watchman shall 
 relieve the guard, and mount thereon and cry 
 aloud and spai'e not." 
 
 " Nay, gentlemen," said the Mayor, " if such 
 be your purpose, we have not the means to with- 
 stand you, being, as you see, peaceful and quiet 
 
 i
 
 WOODSTOCK. 17 
 
 men — But let me first speak with this worthy mi- 
 nister, Neliemiah Holdenough, to persuade him 
 to yield up his place for the time without farther 
 scandal." 
 
 The peace- making Mayor then interrupted 
 the quavering of Holdenough and the clerk, and 
 prayed both to retire, else there would, he said, 
 be certainly strife. 
 
 " Strife?" replied the Presbyterian divine, 
 with scorn ; " no fear of strife, among men that 
 dare not testify against this open profanation of 
 the church, and daring display of heresy. Would 
 your neighbours of Banbury have brooked such 
 an insult ?'''' 
 
 " Come, come, Mr Holdenough," said the 
 Mayor, " put us not to mutiny and cry Clubs. 
 I tell you once more, we are not men of war or 
 blood." 
 
 " Not more than may be drawn by the point 
 of a needle," said the preacher, scornfully. — ** Ye 
 tailors of Woodstock, — for what is a glover but 
 a tailor working on kidskin ? — I forsake you, in 
 scorn of your faint hearts and feeble hands, and 
 will seek me elsewhere a flock which will not fly 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 from their shepherd at the braying of the first 
 wild ass which cometh from out the great de- 
 sert." 
 
 So saying, the aggrieved divine departed from 
 his pulpit, and shaking the dust from his shoes, 
 left the church as hastily as he had entered it, 
 though for a different reason. The citizens saw 
 his retreat with sorrow, and not without a com- 
 punctious feeling as if they were not playing the 
 most courageous part in the world. The Mayor 
 himself and several others left the church, to fol- 
 low and appease him. 
 
 The Independent orator, late prostrate, was 
 now triumphant, and inducting himself into the 
 pulpit without farther ceremony, he pulled a 
 Bible from his pocket, and selected his text 
 from the forty-fifth psalm, — " Gird thy sword 
 upon thy thigh, O most mighty, with thy glory 
 and thy majesty : and in thy majesty ride pros- 
 perously." — Upon this theme he commenced one 
 of those wild declamations common at the pe- 
 riod, in which men were accustomed to wrest 
 and pervert the language of scripture, by adapt- 
 ing it to modern events. The language which, 
 in its literal sense, was applied to King David,
 
 WOODSTOCK. 19 
 
 and typically referred to the coming of the 
 Messiah, was, in the opinion of the military 
 orator, most properly to be interpreted of Oli- 
 ver Cromwell, the victorious general of the in- 
 fant Commonwealth, Avhich was never destined 
 to come of age. " Gird on thy sword !" exclaim- 
 ed the preacher emphatically ; " and was not 
 that a pretty bit of steel as ever dangled from a 
 corslet, or rung against a steel saddle ? Ay, ye 
 prick up your ears now, ye cutlers of Wood- 
 stock, as if ye should know something of a good 
 fox broad-sword — Did you forge it, I trow? — was 
 the steel quenched with water from Rosamond's 
 well, or the blade blessed by the old cuckoldly- 
 priest of Godstow ? You would have us think, I 
 warrant me, that you wrought it and welded 
 it, grinded and polished it, and all the while it 
 never came on a Woodstock stithy. You were 
 all too busy making whittles for the lazy crape- 
 men of Oxford, bouncing priests, whose eyes 
 were so closed up with fat, that they could not 
 see Destruction till she had them by the throat. 
 But T can tell you where the sword was forged, 
 and tempered, and welded, and grinded, and
 
 so WOODSTOCK. 
 
 polished. When you were, as I said before, ma- 
 king whittles for false priests, and daggers for 
 dissolute G — d d — n-me cavaliers, to cut the peo- 
 ple of England's throat with — it was forged at 
 Long Marston Moor, where blows went faster 
 than ever rung hammer on anvil — and it was tem- 
 pered at Naseby, in the best blood of the cava- 
 liers — and it was welded in Ireland against the 
 walls of Drogheda — and it was grinded on Scot- 
 tish lives at Dunbar — and now of late it was 
 polished in Worcester, till it shines as bright as 
 the sun in the middle heaven, and there is no 
 light in England that shall come nigh unto it." 
 
 Here the military part of the congregation rai- 
 sed a hum of approbation, which being a sound 
 like the " hear, hear,*" of the British House of 
 Commons, was calculated to heighten the enthu- 
 siasm of the orator, by intimating the sympathy 
 of the audience. " And then,"" resumed the 
 preacher, rising in energy as he found that his 
 audience partook in these feelings, " what sayeth 
 the text ? — Ride on prosperously — do not stop — 
 do not call a halt — do not quit the saddle — pur- 
 sue the scattered fliers — sound the trumpet— not
 
 c 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 21 
 
 a levant or a flourish, but a point of war — sound, 
 boot and saddle — to horse and away — a charge ! 
 — follow after the young Man ! — what part have 
 we in him ?— Slay, take, destroy, divide the spoil ! 
 Blessed art thou, Oliver, on account of thine lio- 
 nour — thy cause is clear, thy call is undoubted — 
 never has defeat come near thy leading staff", nor 
 disaster attended thy banner. Ride on, flower of 
 England's soldiers ! ride on, chosen leader of 
 God's champions ! gird up the loins of thy reso- 
 lution, and be steadfast to the mark of thy high 
 calling !" 
 
 Another deep and stern hum, echoed by the 
 ancient embow'd arches of the old chantry, gave 
 him an opportunity of an instant's repose ; when 
 the people of Woodstock heard him, and not 
 without anxiety, turn the stream of his oratory 
 into another channel. 
 
 " But wherefore, ye people of Woodstock, 
 do I say these things to you, who claim no por- 
 tion in our David, no interest in England's son 
 of Jesse ? — You, who were fighting as well as 
 your might could (and it was not very formidable) 
 for the late Man, under that old blood-thirsty pa-
 
 22 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 pist Sir Jacob Aston — are you not now plotting, 
 or ready to plot, for restoring, as ye call it, of the 
 young Man, the unclean son of the slaughtered 
 tyi'ant — the fugitive after whom the true hearts 
 of England are now following, that they may 
 take and slay him ? — ' Why should your rider 
 turn his bridle our way?' say you in your hearts ; 
 * we will none of him ; if we may help ourselves, 
 we will rather turn us to wallow in the mire of 
 monarchy, with the sow that was washed but new- 
 ly.' Come, men of Woodstock, I will ask, and 
 do you answer me. Hunger ye still after the 
 flesh-pots of the monks of Godstow ? and ye will 
 say, Nay ; — but wherefore, except that the pots 
 are cracked and broken, and the fire is extinguish- 
 ed wherewith thy oven used to boil ? And again, 
 I ask, drink ye still of the well of the fornications 
 of the fair Rosamond ? — ye will say Nay ; — but 
 wherefore ?'" — 
 
 Here the orator, ere he could answer the ques- 
 tion in his own way, was surprised by the follow- 
 ing reply, very pithily pronounced by one of the 
 congregation : — '• Because you, and the like of 
 you, have left us no brandy to mix with it."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 23 
 
 All eyes turned to the audacious speaker, who 
 
 stood beside one of the thick sturdy Saxon pillars, 
 
 which he himself somewhat resembled, beinsr 
 
 short of stature, but very strongly made, a squat 
 
 broad Little-John sort of figure, leaning on a 
 
 quarter-staff, and wearing a jerkin, which, though 
 
 now sorely stained and discoloured, had once been 
 
 of the Lincoln green, and showed remnants of 
 
 having been laced. There was an air of careless 
 
 good-humoured audacity about the fellow; and, 
 
 though under military restraint, there were some 
 
 of the citizens who could not help crying out, — 
 
 " Well said, Joceline Joliffe." 
 
 " Jolly Joceline, call ye him P" proceeded the 
 preacher, without showing either confusion or dis- 
 pleasure at the interruption, — " I will make him 
 Joceline of the jail, if he interrupts me again. 
 One of your park-keepers, I warrant, that can 
 never forget they have borne C. R. upon their 
 badges and bugle-horns, even as a dog bears his 
 owner's name on his collar — a pretty emblem for 
 Christian men ! But the brute beast hath the 
 better of him, — the brute weareth his own coat, 
 and the caitiff thrall wears his master's. I have
 
 S4 MOODSTOCK. 
 
 seen such a wag make a rope's end wag ere now. 
 — Where was I ? — Oh, rebuking you for your 
 backslidings, men of Woodstock. — Yes, then 
 ye will say ye have renounced Popery, and ye have 
 renounced Prelacy, and then ye wipe your mouth 
 like Pharisees as ye are ; and who but you for 
 purity of religion ! But I tell you, ye are but 
 like Jehu the son of Nimshi, who broke down the 
 house of Baal, yet departed not from the sons of 
 Jeroboam. Even so ye eat not fish on Friday with 
 the bhnded Papists, nor rainced-pies on the twen- 
 ty-fifth day of December, like the slothful Pre- 
 latists ; but ye will gorge on sack- posset each 
 night in the year with your blind Presbyterian 
 guide, and ye will speak evil of dignities, and 
 revile the Commonwealth ; and ye will glorify 
 yourselves in your park of Woodstock, and say, 
 ' Was it not walled in first of any other in Eng- 
 land, and that by Henry son of William called 
 the Conqueror ?' And ye have a princely Lodge 
 therein, and call the same a Royal Lodge ; and 
 ye have an oak which ye call the King's Oak ; and 
 ye steal and eat the venison of the park ; and ye 
 say, * This is the king's venison, we will wash it
 
 WOODSTOCX. S5 
 
 down with a cup to the king's health — better we 
 eat it than those round-headed commonwealth 
 knaves.' But listen unto me, and take warning. 
 For these things come we to controversy with 
 you. And our name shall be a cannon-shot, 
 before which your Lodge, in the pleasantness 
 whereof ye take pastime, shall be blown into 
 ruins ; and we will be as a wedge to split asunder 
 the King's Oak into billets to heat a brown ba- 
 ker's oven ; and we will dispark your park, and 
 slay your deer, and eat them ourselves, neither 
 shallr you have any portion thereof, whether 
 in neck or haunch. Ye shall not haft a ten- 
 penny knife with the horns thereof, neither shall 
 ye cut a pair of breeches out of the hide, for all 
 ye be cutlers and glovers ; and ye shall have 
 no comfort or support neither from the seques- 
 trated traitor Henry Lee, who called himself Ran- 
 ger of Woodstock, nor from any on his behalf; 
 for they are coming hither who shall be called 
 Maher-shalal-hash-baz, because he maketh haste 
 to the spoil." 
 
 Here ended this wild effusion, the latter part 
 of which fell heavy on the souls of the poor citi-
 
 26 AVOODSTOCK. 
 
 zens of Woodstock, as tending to confirm a 
 report of an unpleasing nature which had been 
 lately circulated. The communication with Lon- 
 don was indeed slow, and the news which it trans- 
 mitted were uncertain; no less uncertain were the 
 times themselves, and the rumours which were 
 circulated, exaggerated by the hopes and fears 
 of so many various factions. But the general 
 stream of report, so far as Woodstock was con- 
 cerned, had of late run uniformly in one direction. 
 Day after day they had been informed, that the 
 fatal fiat of Parliament had gone out, for selling 
 the Park of Woodstock, destroying its lodge, 
 disparking its forest, and erazing, as far as they 
 could be erazed, all traces of its ancient fame. 
 Many of the citizens were likely to be sufferers on 
 this occasion, as several of them enjoyed, either 
 by sufferance or right, various convenient privi- 
 leges of pasturage, cutting fire- wood, and the like, 
 in the royal chase ; and all the inhabitants of the 
 little borough were hurt to think, that the scenery 
 of the place was to be destroyed, its edifices ruin- 
 ed, and its honours rent away. This is a patri- 
 otic sensation often found in such places, which
 
 AVOODSTOCK. S7 
 
 ancient distinctions and long-cherished recollec- 
 tions of former days, render so different from 
 towns of recent date. The natives of Woodstock 
 felt it in the fullest force. They had trembled at 
 the anticipated calamity ; but now, when it was 
 announced by the appearance of those dark, stern, 
 and at the same time omnipotent soldiers — now 
 that they heard it proclaimed by the mouth of 
 one of their military preachers — they considered 
 their fate as inevitable. The causes of disagree- 
 ment among themselves were for the time forgot- 
 ten, as the congregation, dismissed without psal- 
 mody or benediction, went slowly and mournfully 
 homeward, each to his own place of abode.
 
 [ 28 ] 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Come forth, old man — Thy daughter's side 
 
 Is now the fitting place tor thee : 
 When Time hath quell'd the oak's bold pride, 
 
 The youthful tendril yet may hide 
 The ruins of the parent tree. 
 
 When the sermon was ended, the military 
 orator wiped his brow ; for, notwithstanding the 
 coolness of the weather, he was heated with the 
 vehemence of his speech and action. He then de- 
 scended from the pulpit, and spoke a word or two 
 to the corporal who commanded the party of sol- 
 diers, who, replying by a sober nod of intelli- 
 gence, drew his men together, and marched them 
 in order to their quarters in the town. 
 
 The preacher himself, as if nothing extraordi- 
 nary had happened, left the church and saunter- 
 ed through the streets of Woodstock, with the 
 air of a stranger who was viewing the town, with-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 29 
 
 out Beeming to observe that he was himself in his 
 turn anxiously surveyed by the citizens, whose 
 furtive yet frequent glances seemed to regard him 
 as something alike suspected and dreadful, yet 
 on no account to be provoked. He heeded them 
 not, but stalked on in the manner affected by the 
 distinguished fanatics of the day ; a stiff solemn 
 pace, a severe and at the same time a contempla- 
 tive look, like that of a man incensed at the in- 
 terruptions which earthly objects forced upon 
 him, obliging him by their intrusion to withdraw 
 his thoughts for an instant from celestial things. 
 Innocent pleasures of what kind soever they held 
 in suspicion and contempt, and innocent mirth 
 they abominated. It was, however, a cast of mind 
 that formed men for great and manly action, as 
 it adopted principle, and that of an unselfish cha- 
 racter, for the ruling motive, instead of the grati- 
 fication of passion. Some of these men were indeed 
 hypocrites, using the cloak of religion only as a 
 covering for their ambition ; but many really pos- 
 sessed the devotional character, and the severe 
 republican virtue, which others only affected. By 
 far the greater number hovered between these
 
 30 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 extremes, felt to a certain extent the power of 
 religion, and complied with the times in affecting 
 a great deal. 
 
 The individual, whose pretensions to sanctity, 
 written as they were upon his brow and gait, have 
 given rise to the above digression, reached at 
 length the extremity of the principal street, 
 which terminates upon the park of Woodstock. 
 A battlemented portal of Gothic appearance de- 
 fended the entrance to the avenue. It was of 
 mixed architecture, but on the whole, though 
 composed of the styles of different ages, when 
 it had received additions, had a striking and 
 imposing effect. An immense gate composed of 
 rails of hammered iron, with many a flourish and 
 scroll, displaying as its uppermost ornament the 
 ill-fated cypher of C. R., was now decayed, partly 
 with rust, partly from the effects of violence. 
 
 The stranger paused, as if uncertain whether 
 he should demand or assay entrance. He looked 
 through the grating down an avenue skirted l)y 
 majestic oaks, which led onward with a gentle 
 curve, as if into the depths of some ample and an- 
 cient forest. The wicket of the large iron gatebeing 
 
 14
 
 WOODSTOCK. SI 
 
 left unwittingly open, the soldier was tempted to 
 enter, yet with some hesitation, as he that intrudes 
 upon ground which he conjectures may be pro- 
 hibited — indeed his manner showed more reve- 
 rence for the scene than could have been expect- 
 ed from his condition and character. He slacken- 
 ed liis stately and consequential pace, and at 
 length stood still, and looked around him. 
 
 Not far from the gate, he saw rising from the 
 trees one or two ancient and venerable turrets, 
 bearing each its own vane of rare device slitter- 
 ing in the autumn sun. These indicated the 
 ancient hunting seat, or Lodge, as it was called, 
 which had, since the time of Henry II., been oc- 
 casionally the residence of the English Monarchs, 
 when it pleased them to visit the woods of Ox- 
 ford, which then so abounded with game, that, ac- 
 cording to old Fuller, huntsmen and falconers 
 were nowhere better pleased. The situation which 
 the Lodge occupied was a piece of flat ground, now 
 planted with sycamores, not far from the entrance 
 to that magnificent spot where the spectator first 
 stops to gaze upon Blenheim, to think of Marl-
 
 32 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 borough's victories, and to applaud or criticise 
 the cumbrous magnificence of Vanburgh's style. 
 
 There too paused our military preacher, but 
 with other thoughts, and for other purpose, than 
 to admire the scene around him. It was not long 
 afterwards when he beheld two persons, a male 
 and a female, approaching slowly, and so deeply 
 engaged in their own conversation that they did 
 not raise their eyes to observe that there stood a 
 stranger in the path before them. The soldier 
 took advantage of their state of abstraction, and, 
 desirous at once to watch their motions and avoid 
 their observation, he glided beneath one of the 
 huge trees which skirted the path, and whose 
 boughs, sweeping the ground on every side, in- 
 sured him against discovery, unless in case of an 
 actual search. 
 
 In the meantime, the gentleman and lady con- 
 tinued to advance, directing their course to a rus- 
 tic seat, which still enjoyed the sun-beams, and 
 was placed adjacent to the tree where the stran- 
 ger was concealed. 
 
 The man was elderly, yet seemed bent more 
 
 12
 
 WOODSTOCK. 33 
 
 by sorrow and infirmity, than by the weight of 
 years. He wore a mourning cloak, over a dress 
 of the same melancholy colour, cut in that pic- 
 turesque form, which Vandyke has rendered im- 
 mortal. But although the dress was handsome, 
 it was put on and worn with a carelessness which 
 showed the mind of the wearer ill at ease. His 
 aged, yet still handsome countenance, had the 
 same air of consequence Avhich distinguished his 
 dress and his gait. A striking part of his appear- 
 ance was a long white beard, which descended 
 far over the breast of his slashed doublet, and 
 looked singular from its contrast in colour with 
 his habit. 
 
 The young lady, by whom this venerable gen- 
 tleman seemed to be in some degree supported 
 as they walked arm in arm, was a slight and 
 sylph-like form, with a person so delicately made, 
 and so beautiful in countenance, that it seemed 
 the earth on which she walked was too grossly mas- 
 sive a support for a creature so aerial. But mortal 
 beauty must share human sorrows. The eyes of 
 the beautiful being showed tokens of tears ; her 
 colour was heightened as she listened to her aged 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 34 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 companion ; and it was plain, from his melancholy 
 yet displeased look, that the conversation was as 
 distressing to himself as to her. When they sate 
 down on the bench we have mentioned, the gen- 
 tleman's discourse could be distinctly overheard 
 by the eves-dropping soldier, but the answers of 
 the young lady reached his ear rather less dis- 
 tinctly. 
 
 *' It is not to be endured," said the old man, 
 passionately ; *' it would stir up a paralytic 
 wretch to start up a soldier. My people have 
 been thinned, I grant you, or have fallen off 
 from me in these times — I owe them no grudge 
 for it, poor knaves ; what should they do when 
 the pantry has no bread and the buttery no ale ? 
 But we have still about us some rugged foresters 
 of the old Woodstock breed — old as myself most 
 of them — what of that ? old wood seldom warps 
 in the wetting ; — I will hold out the old house, 
 and it will not be the first time that I have held 
 it against ten times the strength that we hear 
 of now."" 
 
 " Alas ! my dear father," — said the young 
 lady, in a tone which seemed to intimate his pro- 
 posal of defence to be altogether desperate.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 35 
 
 " And wliy, alas ?" said the gentleman, angrily ; 
 " is it because I shut my door on a score or two 
 of these blood-thirsty hypocrites ?" 
 
 " But their masters can as easily send a reo-i- 
 ment or an army, if they will,'" replied the lady ; 
 " and what good would your present defence do, 
 excepting to exasperate them to your utter de- 
 struction ?" 
 
 " Be it so, Alice," replied her father ; " I have 
 lived my time and beyond it. I have outlived 
 the kindest and most prince-like of masters. 
 What do I do on the earth since the dismal 
 thirtieth of January ? The parricide of that day 
 was a signal to all true servants of Charles Stuart 
 to avenge his death, or die as soon after as they 
 could find a worthy opportunity." 
 
 " Do not speak thus, sir," said Alice Lee ; 
 " it does not become your gravity and your 
 worth to throw away that life which may yet be 
 of service to your king and country, — it will not 
 and cannot always be thus. England will not 
 long endure the rulers which these bad times 
 have assigned her. In the meanwhile — [hero 
 a few words escaped the listener's ears] — and
 
 36 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 beware of that impatience, which makes bad 
 
 worse." 
 
 " Worse ?''"' exclaimed the impatient old man, 
 *' What can be worse ? Is it not at the worst al- 
 ready ? Will not these people expel us from the 
 only shelter we have left — dilapidate what remains 
 of royal property under my charge — make the 
 palace of princes into a den of thieves, and then 
 wipe their mouths and thank God, as if they had 
 done an alms deed ?"" 
 
 " Still," said his daughter, " there is hope be- 
 hind, and I trust the King is ere this out of their 
 reach — We have reason to think well of my bro- 
 ther Albert's safety." 
 
 " Ay, Albert ! there again," said the old man, 
 in a tone of reproach ; " had it not been for tiiy 
 entreaties I had gone to Worcester myself ; but 
 I must needs lie here like a worthless hound 
 when the hunt is up, when who knows what ser- 
 vice I might have shown ? An old man's head is 
 sometimes useful when his arm is but little worth. 
 But you and Albert were so desirous that he 
 should go alone — and now, who can say what ha^ 
 become of him .^"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 37 
 
 " Nay, nay, father," said Alice, " we have 
 good hope that Albert escaped from that fatal 
 day ; young Abney saw him a mile from the field." 
 
 " Young Abney lied, I believe," said tiie fa- 
 ther, in the same humour of contradiction — 
 " Young Abney's tongue seems quicker than his 
 hands, but far slower than his horse's heels when 
 he leaves the roundheads behind him. I would 
 rather Albert's dead body were laid between 
 Charles and Cromwell, than hear he fled as early 
 as young Abney." 
 
 " My dearest father,"" said the young lady, 
 weeping as she spoke, " what can I say to com- 
 fort you ?" 
 
 " Comfort me, say'st thou, girl ? I am sick of 
 comfort — an honourable death, with the ruins of 
 Woodstock for my monument, were the only 
 comfort to old Henry Lee. Yes, by the memory 
 of my father ! I will make good the Lodge against 
 these rebellious robbers." 
 
 " Yet be ruled, dearest father," said the maid- 
 en, " and submit to that which we cannot sain- 
 say. My uncle Everard " 
 
 Here the old men caught at her unfinished 
 
 " 1 S 9 5
 
 38 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 words. " Thy uncle Everard, wench ! — Well, get 
 on. — What of thy precious and loving uncle 
 Everard ?" 
 
 " Nothing, sir," she said, *' if the subject dis- 
 pleases you." 
 
 ** Displeases me ?" he replied, " why should it 
 displease me ? or, if it did, why should''st thou, 
 or any one, affect to care about it ? What is it 
 that hath happened of late years — what is it can 
 be thought to happen that astrologer can guess at, 
 which can give pleasure to us ?" 
 
 " Fate," she replied, " may have in store the 
 joyful restoration of our banished prince."" 
 
 " Too late for my time, Alice," said the knight; 
 *' if there be such a white page in the heavenly 
 book, it will not be turned until long after my 
 day. — But I see thou would'st escape me. — In a 
 word, what of thy uncle Everard .?" 
 
 ** Nay, sir," said Alice, " God knows I would 
 rather be silent for ever, than speak what might, 
 as you would take it, add to your present dis- 
 temperature." 
 
 " Distemperature !" said her father ; " Oh, thou 
 art a sweet-lipped physician, and would'st, I war-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 39 
 
 rant me, drop nought but sweet balm, and ho- 
 ney, and oil, on my distemperature — if that is 
 the phrase for an old man"'s ailment, when he is 
 well nigh heart-broken. — Once more, what of thy 
 uncle Everard ?"" 
 
 His last words were uttered in a high and 
 peevish tone of voice ; and Alice Lee answered 
 her father in a trembling and submissive tone. 
 
 " I only meant to say, sir, that I am well as- 
 sured that my uncle Everard, when we quit this 
 place " 
 
 " That is to say, when we are kicked out of it 
 by crop-eared canting villains like himself. — But 
 oji with thy bountiful uncle — what will he do ? 
 —will he give us the remains of his worshipful 
 and economical house-keeping, the fragments of 
 a thrice-sack''d capon twice a-week, and a plenti- 
 ful fast on the other five days ? — Will he give us 
 beds beside his half-starved nags, and put them 
 under a short allowance of straw, that his sister's 
 husband — that I should have called my deceased 
 angel by such a name ! — and his sister's daughter, 
 may not sleep on the stones 'f Or will he send us 
 a noble each, with a warning to make it last, for
 
 40 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 he had never known the ready-penny so hard to 
 come by ? Or what else will your uncle Everard 
 do for us ? Get us a furlough to beg ? Why, I 
 can do that without him." 
 
 '* You misconstrue him much," answered Alice, 
 with more spirit than she had hitherto displayed ; 
 " and would you but question your own heart, 
 you would acknowledge — I speak with reverence 
 — that your tongue utters what your better judg- 
 ment would disown. My uncle Everard is neither 
 a miser nor a hypocrite, neither so fond of the 
 goods of this world that he would not supply our 
 distresses amply, nor so wedded to fanatical opi- 
 nions as to exclude charity for other sects beside 
 his own." 
 
 " Ay, ay, the Church of England is a sect 
 with him I doubt not, and perhaps m ith thee too, 
 Alice," said the knight. " What is a jSIuggles- 
 man, or a Ranter, or a Brownist, but a sectary ? 
 and thy phrase places them all, with Jack Pres- 
 byter himself, on the same footing with our learn- 
 ed prelates and religious clergy ! Such is the cant 
 of the day thou livest in, and why should'st thou 
 not talk like one of the wise virgins and psalm-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 41 
 
 singing sisters, since, though thou hast a profane 
 old cavalier for a father, thou art own niece to 
 uncle Everarcl I"" 
 
 " If you speak thus, my dear father," said 
 Alice, " what can I answer you ? Hear me but 
 one patient word, and I shall have discharged my 
 uncle Everard's commission."" 
 
 " Oh, it is a commission then ! Surely I sus- 
 pected so much from the beginning — nay, have 
 some sharp guess touching the ambassador also. 
 — Come, madam, do your errand, and j^ou shall 
 have no reason to complain of my patience." 
 
 " Then, sir," replied his daugiiter, " my uncle 
 Everard desires you would be courteous to the 
 commissioners, who come here to sequestrate the 
 parks and the property ; or, at least, heedfully to 
 abstain from giving them obstacle or opposition : 
 it can, he says, do no good, even on your own 
 principles, and it will give a pretext for proceed- 
 ing against you as one in the worst degree of 
 malignity, which he thinks may otherwise be 
 prevented. Nay, he has good hope, that if you 
 follow hi.5 counsel, the committee may, through 
 the interest he possesses, be inchned to remove the
 
 42 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 se([uestration of your estate on a moderate fine. 
 Thus says my uncle ; and having communicated 
 his advice, I have no occasion to urge your pa- 
 tience with farther argument." 
 
 *' It is well thou dost not, Alice," answered Sir 
 Henry Lee, in a tone of suppressed anger ; " for, 
 by the blessed rood, thou hast well nigh led me 
 into the heresy of thinking thee no daughter 
 of mine. — Ah ! my beloved companion, who art 
 now far from the sorrows and cares of this weary 
 world, could'st thou have thought that the daugh- 
 ter thou didst clasp to thy bosom, would, like the 
 wicked wife of Job, become a temptress to her fa- 
 ther in the hour of affliction, and recommend to 
 him to make his conscience truckle to his interest, 
 and to beg back at the bloody hands of his mas- 
 ter's, and perhaps his son's murderers, a wretched 
 remnant of his property he has been robbed of! 
 
 Why, wench, if I must beg, think''st thou I will 
 
 sue to those who have made me a mendicant ? No. 
 I will never show my grey beard, worn in sorrow 
 for my sovereign"'s death, to move the compassion 
 of some proud sequestrator, who perhaps was one 
 of the parricides. No. If Henry Lee must sue
 
 WOODSTOCK. 43 
 
 for food, it shall be of some sound lo^'alist like 
 himself, who having but half a loaf remaining, will 
 not nevertheless refuse to share it with him. For 
 his daughter, she may wander her own way, 
 which leads her to a refuge with her wealthy 
 roundhead kinsfolks; but let her no more call 
 him father, whose honest indigence she has refu- 
 sed to share !" 
 
 " You do me injustice, sir,"" answered the 
 young lady, with a voice animated yet faltering, 
 ** cruel injustice. God knows, your way is my 
 way, though it lead to ruin and beggary ; and 
 while you tread it, my ai-m shall support you while 
 you will accept an aid so feeble." 
 
 " Thou word'st me, girl," answered the old 
 cavalier, " thou word'st me, as Will Shakspeare 
 says — thou speakest of lending me thy arm ; but 
 thy secret thought is thyself to hang upon Mark- 
 ham Everard's." 
 
 " My father, my father," answered Alice, in a 
 tone of deep grief, " what can thus have altered 
 your clear judgment and kindly heart ? — Accur- 
 sed be these civil commotions ! not only do they 
 destroy men's bodies, but they pervert their souls.
 
 44 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and the brave, the noble, the geneious, become 
 suspicious, harsh, and mean ! Why upbraid me 
 with Markhara Everard ? Have I seen or spoke 
 with him since you discharged him ray co-mpany, 
 with terms less kind — I will speak it truly — than 
 was due even to the relationship betwixt you ? 
 Why think I would sacrifice to that young man 
 my duty to you ? Know, that were I capable of 
 such criminal weakness, Markham Everard were 
 the first to despise me for it." 
 
 She put her handkerchief to her eyes, but she 
 could not hide her sobs, nor conceal the distress 
 they intimated. The old man was moved. 
 
 " I cannot tell," he said, *' what to think of it. 
 Thou seem\st sincere, and wert ever a good and 
 kindly daughter — how thou hast let that rebel 
 youth creep into thy heart I wot not ; perhaps it 
 is a punishment on me, who thought the loyalty of 
 my house was like undefiled ermine. Yet here 
 is a damned spot, and on the fairest gem of all — 
 my own dear Alice. But do not weep — we have 
 enough to vex us. Where is it that Shakspeare 
 hath it : —
 
 WOODSTOCK. 45 
 
 -' (rcntle daughter, 
 
 Give even way unto my rough affaa-s ; 
 Put you not on the temper of the times, 
 Nor be, like them, to Percy troublesome.' " 
 
 " I am glad to hear you quote your favourite 
 again, sir. Our little jars are ever veil nigh 
 ended when Shakspeare comes in play." 
 
 " His book was the closet-companion of my 
 blessed master," said Sir Henry Lee ; " after the 
 Bible, (with reverence for naming them together,) 
 he felt more comfort in it than any other ; and 
 as I have shared liis disease, why it is natural I 
 should take his medicine. Albeit, I pretend not 
 to my master's art in explaining the dark pas- 
 sages ; for I am but a rude man, and rustically 
 brought up to arms and hunting." 
 
 " You have seen Shakspeare, sir?" said the 
 young lady. 
 
 " Silly wench," replied the knight, " he died 
 when I was a mere child — thou hast heard me 
 say so twenty times ; but thou would'st lead the 
 old man away from the tender subject. Well, 
 though I am not blind, I can shut my eyes and 
 follow. Ben Jonson I knew, and could tell thee 
 many a tale of our meetings at the Mermaid,
 
 46 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 where, if there was much wine, there was much 
 wit also. We did not sit blowing tobacco in , 
 each other's faces, and turning up the whites of 
 our eyes as we turned up the bottom of the wine- 
 pot. Old Ben adopted me as one of his sons in 
 the muses. I have shown you, have I not, the 
 verses, * To my much beloved son, the worship- 
 ful Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley, Knight and Baro- 
 net ?' '' 
 
 " I do not remember them at present, sir,*" re- 
 plied Alice. 
 
 " I fear ye lie, wench," said her father ; " but 
 ))o matter — thou can'st not get any more fooling 
 out of me just now. The Evil Spirit hath left 
 Saul for the present. We are now to think what 
 is to be done about leaving Woodstock — or de- 
 fending it." 
 
 " My dearest father," said Alice, " can you 
 still nourish a moment's hope of making good the 
 place r 
 
 *' I know not, wench," replied Sir Henry ; " I 
 would fain have a parting blow at them, 'tis cer- 
 tain — and who knows where a blessing may alight ? 
 But then, my poor knaves that must take part
 
 WOODSTOCK. 47 
 
 with me in so hopeless a quarrel — that thought 
 hampers me, I confess." 
 
 " Oh, let it do so, sir," replied Alice ; " there 
 are soldiers in the town, and there arc three regi- 
 ments at Oxford." 
 
 " Ah, poor Oxford !" exclaimed Sir Henry, 
 whose vacillating state of mind was turned by 
 a word to any new subject that suggested it- 
 self, — " Seat of learning and loyalty ! these rude 
 soldiers are unfit inmates for thy learned halls 
 and poetical bowers ; but thy pure and brilliant 
 lamp shall defy the foul breath of a thousand 
 churlsj were they to blow at it like Boreas. The 
 burning bush shall not be consumed, even by the 
 heat of this persecution." 
 
 " True, sir," said Alice, " and it may not be 
 useless to recollect, that any stirring of the royal- 
 ists at this unpropitious moment will make them 
 deal yet more harshly with the University, which 
 they consider as being at the bottom of everything 
 which moves for the King in these parts." 
 
 " It is true, wench," replied the knight ; " and 
 small cause would make the villains sequestrate 
 the poor remains which the civil wars have left to 
 
 17
 
 4^ WOODSTOCK. 
 
 the colleges. That and the risk of my poor fel- 
 lows — Well ! thou liast disarmed me, girl. I 
 will be as patient and calm as a martyr.'*'' 
 
 " Pray God, you keep your word, sir," replied 
 his daughter ; " but you are ever so much moved 
 at the sight of any of these men, that " 
 
 " Would you make a child of me, Alice .''" 
 said Sir Henry. " Why, know you not that I 
 can look upon a viper, or a toad, or a bunch of 
 engendering adders, without any worse feeling 
 than a little disgust ? and though a roundhead, 
 and especially a red-coat, are in my opinion more 
 poisonous than vipers, more loathsome than toads, 
 more hateful than knotted adders, yet can I over- 
 come my nature so far, that should one of them 
 appear at this moment, thyself should see how 
 civilly I would entreat him." 
 
 As he spoke, the military preacher abandoned 
 his leafy screen, and stalking forward, stood un- 
 expectedly before the old cavalier, who stared at 
 him as if he had thought that his expressions had 
 actually raised a devil. 
 
 " Who art thou ?" at length said Sir Henry, 
 in a raised and angry voice, while his daughter 
 
 18
 
 ^WOODSTOCK. 49 
 
 clung to his arm in terror, little confident that 
 her father's pacific resolutions would abide the 
 shock of this unwelcome apparition. 
 
 " I am one," replied the soldier, " who neither 
 fear nor shame to call myself a poor day-labourer 
 in the great work of England — umph ! — Ay, a 
 simple and sincere upholder of the good old 
 cause." 
 
 " And what the devil do you seek here ?'" said 
 the old knight, fiercely. 
 
 " The welcome due to the steward of the Lords 
 Commissioners," answered the soldier. 
 
 " Welcome art thou as salt would be to sore 
 eyes," said the cavalier ; " but who be your Com- 
 missioners, man ?'''' 
 
 The soldier v/ith little courtesy held out a 
 scroll, which Sir Henry took from him betwixt 
 his finger and thumb, as if it were a letter from a 
 pest-house ; and held it at as much distance from 
 his eyes, as his purpose of reading it would per- 
 mit. He then read aloud, and as he named the 
 parties one by one, he added a short commentary 
 on each name, addressed, indeed, to Alice, but in 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 such a tone that showed he cared not for its be- 
 ing heard by the soldier. 
 
 " Deshorough — the ploughman Desborough — 
 as grovelling a clown as is in England— a fellow 
 that would be best at home, like an ancient Scy- 
 thian, under the tilt of a waggon — d — n him. 
 Harrison — a bloody-minded, ranting enthusiast, 
 who read the Bible to such purpose, that he never 
 lacked a text to justify a murder — d — n him too. 
 Bletson — a true-blue commonwealth's man, one 
 of Harrison's Rota Club, with his noddle full of 
 new-fangled notions about government, the clear- 
 est object of which is to establish the tail upon 
 the head ; a fellow who leaves you the statutes 
 and laws of old England, to prate of Rome and 
 Greece — sees the Areopagus in Westminster- 
 Hall, and takes old Noll for a Roman Consul — 
 Adad, he is like to prove a dictator amongst 
 them instead. Never mind ; d — n Bletson too."" 
 
 " Friend," said the soldier, " I would willing- 
 ly be civil, but it consists not with my duty to 
 hear these godly men, in whose service I am, 
 spoken of after this irreverent and unbecoming 
 fashion. And albeit I know that you malignants
 
 WOODSTOCK. 51 
 
 think you have a right to make free with tliat 
 damnation, wliicli you seem to use as your own 
 portion, yet it is superfluous to invoke it against 
 others, who have better hopes in their thoughts, 
 and better words in their mouths." 
 
 " Thou art but a canting varlet," repHed the 
 knight; "and yet thou art right in some sense — 
 for it is superfluous to curse men who already are 
 damned as black as the smoke of hell itself." 
 
 " I prithee forbear," continued the soldier, 
 " for manners'* sake if not for conscience — grisly 
 oaths suit ill with gray beards." 
 
 " Nay, that is truth, if the devil spoke it," said 
 the knight ; " and I thank Heaven I can follow 
 good counsel, though old Nick gives it. And so, 
 friend, touching these same Commissioners, bear 
 them this message ; that Sir Henry Lee is keeper 
 of Woodstock Park, with right of waif and stray, 
 vert and venison, as complete as any of them have 
 to their estate — that is, if they possess any estate 
 but what they have gained by plundering honest 
 men. Nevertheless, he will give place to those 
 who have made their might their right, and will
 
 52 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 not expose the lives of good and true men, where 
 the odds are so much against them. And he 
 protests that he makes this surrender, neither as 
 acknowledging of these so termed Commissioners, 
 nor as for his own individual part fearing their 
 force, but purely to avoid the loss of English 
 blood, of which so much hath been spilt in these 
 late times." 
 
 " It is well spoken," said the steward of the 
 Commissioners ; " and therefore, I pray you, let 
 us walk together into the house, that thou may''st 
 deliver up unto me the vessels, and gold and sil- 
 ver ornaments, belonging unto the Egyptian Pha- 
 raoh who committed them to thy keeping." 
 
 " What vessels ?" exclaimed the fiery old 
 knight ; " and belonging to whom .'' Unbaptized 
 dog, speak civil of the Martyr in my presence, 
 or I will do a deed misbecoming of me on that 
 caitiff corpse of thine." — And shaking his daugh- 
 ter from his right arm, the old man laid his hand 
 on his rapier. 
 
 His antagonist, on the contrary, kept his temper 
 completely, and waving his hand to add impression
 
 WOODSTOCK. 53 
 
 to his speech, he said, with a cahnness which ag- 
 gravated Sir Henry's wrath, " Nay, good friend, 
 I prithee be still, and brawl not — it becomes not 
 gray hairs and feeble arras to rail and rant like 
 drunkards. Put me not to use the carnal weapon 
 in mine own defence, but listen to the voice of 
 reason. See'st thou npt that the Lord hath de- 
 cided this great controversy in favour of us and 
 ours, against thee and thine ? Wherefore, render 
 up thy stewardship peacefully, and deliver up to 
 me the chattels of the Man, Charles Stuart." 
 
 " Patience is a good nag, but she will bolt," 
 said the knight, unable longer to rein in his wrath. 
 He plucked his sheathed rapier from his side, 
 struck the soldier a severe blow with it, and in- 
 stantly drawing it, and throwing the scabbard 
 over the trees, placed himself in a posture of de- 
 fence, with his sword's point within half a yard of 
 the steward's body. The latter stepped back with 
 activity, threw his long cloak from his shoulders, 
 and drawing his long tuck, stood upon his guard. 
 The swords clashed smartly together, while Alice, 
 in her terror, screamed wildly for assistance. But 
 the combat was of short duration. The old ca-
 
 54 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 valier had attacked a man as cunning of fence as 
 he himself, or a little more so, and possessing all 
 the strength and activity of which time had de- 
 prived Sir Henry, and the calmness which the 
 other had lost in his passion. They had scarce 
 exchanged three passes ere the sword of the 
 knight flew up in the air, as if it had gone in 
 search of the scabbard ; and burning with shame 
 and anger. Sir Henry stood disarmed, at the 
 mercy of his antagonist. The republican showed 
 no purpose of abusing his victory ; nor did he, 
 either during the combat, or after the victory was 
 won, in any respect alter the sour and grave com- 
 posure which reigned upon his countenance — a 
 combat of life and death seemed to him a thing 
 as familiar, and as little to be feared, as an ordi- 
 nary bout with foils. 
 
 " Thou art delivered unto my hands," he said, 
 " and by the law of arms I might smite thee un- 
 der the fifth rib, even as Asahel was struck dead 
 by Abner, the son of Nun, as he followed the 
 chase on the hill of Ammah, that lieth before 
 Giah, in the way of the wilderness of Gibeon ; 
 but far be it from mc to spill thy remaining drops
 
 WOODSTOCK. 55 
 
 of blood. True it is thou art the captive of my 
 sword and of my spear ; nevertheless, seeing that 
 there may be a turning from thine evil ways, and 
 a returning to those which are good, if the Lord 
 enlarge thy date for repentance and amendment, 
 wherefore should it be shortened by a poor sinful 
 mortal, who is, speaking truly, but thy fellow- 
 worm .'*'" 
 
 Sir Henry Lee remained still confused, and un- 
 able to answer, when there arrived a fourth per- 
 son, whom the cries of Alice had summoned to 
 the spot. This was Joceline Joliffe, one of the 
 under-keepers of the walk, who, seeing how mat- 
 ters stood, brandished his quarter-staff, a weapon 
 from which he never parted, and having made it 
 describe the figure of eight in a flourish through 
 the air, would have brought it down with a ven- 
 geance upon the head of the steward, had not Sir 
 Henry interposed. 
 
 " We must trail bats now, Joceline — our time 
 of shouldering them is passed. It skills not stri- 
 ving against the hill — the devil rules the roast, 
 and makes our slaves our tutors." 
 
 At this moment another auxiliary rushed out
 
 oG Woodstock. 
 
 of the thicket to the knight's assistance. It was 
 the large wolf-dog, in strength a mastiff, in form 
 and almost in fleetness a greyhound, which we 
 have already mentioned. Bevis was the noblest of 
 the kind which ever pulled down a stag, tawny- 
 coloured like a lion, with a black muzzle and black 
 feet, just edged with a line of white round the 
 toes. He was as tractable as he was strong and 
 bold. Just as he was about to rush upon the sol- 
 dier, the words " Peace, Bevis !'' from Sir Henry, 
 converted the lion into a lamb, and, instead of 
 pulling the soldier down, he walked round and 
 round, and snuffed, as if using all his sagacity to 
 discover who the stranger could be, towards 
 whom, though of so questionable an appearance, 
 he was enjoined forbearance. Apparently he was 
 satisfied, for he laid aside his doubtful and threat- 
 ening demonstrations, lowered his ears, smoothed 
 down his bristles, and wagged his tail. 
 
 Sir Henry, who had great respect for the saga- 
 city of his favourite, said in a low voice to Alice, 
 " Bevis is of thy opinion, and counsels submis- 
 sion. There is the finger of Heaven in this to 
 punish the pride, ever the fault of our house. —
 
 ■WOODSTOCK. 57 
 
 Friend," he continued, addressing the soldier, 
 " thou hast given the finishing-touch to a lesson, 
 which ten years of constant misfortune have been 
 unable fully to teach me. Thou hast distinctly 
 shown me the folly of thinking that a good cause 
 can strengthen a weak arm. God forgive me for 
 the thought, but I could almost turn infidel, and 
 believe that Heaven's blessing goes ever with 
 the longest sword ; but it will not be always thus. 
 God knows his time. — Reach me my Toledo, Jo- 
 cehne, yonder it lies ; and the scabbard, see where 
 it hangs on the tree.— Do not pull at my cloak, 
 Alice, and look so miserably frightened ; I shall 
 be in no hurry to betake me to bright steel again, 
 I promise thee. — For thee, good fellow, I thank 
 thee, and will make way for thy masters without 
 farther dispute or ceremony. Joceline JolifFe is 
 nearer thy degree than I am, and will make sur- 
 render to thee of the Lodge and household stuff. 
 Withhold nothing, JolifFe — let them have all. 
 For me, I will never cross the threshold again — 
 but where to rest for a night "^ I would trouble 
 no one in Woodstock — hum — ay — it shall be so. 
 Ahce and I, Joceline, will go down to thy hut by
 
 58 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 llosam end's well ; we will borrow the shelter of 
 thy roof for one night at least ; thou wilt give us 
 welcome, wilt thou not ? — How now— a clouded 
 brow ?" 
 
 Joceline certainly looked embarrassed, directed 
 first a glance to Alice, then looked to Heaven, 
 then to earth, and last to the four quarters of the 
 
 horizon, and then murmured out, " Certainly 
 
 without question — might he but run down to put 
 the house in order." 
 
 " Order enough— order enough— for those that 
 may soon be glad of clean straw in a barn," said 
 the knight ; "but if thou hast an ill will to har- 
 bour any obnoxious or malignant persons, as the 
 phrase goes, never shame to speak it out, man. 
 'Tis true I took thee up when thou wert but a 
 ragged Robin, made a keeper of thee, and so forth. 
 — What of that ? Sailors think no longer of the 
 wind than when it forwards them on the voya"-e 
 — thy betters turn with the tide, why should not 
 such a poor knave as thou .''" 
 
 " God pardon your honour for your harsh 
 judgment," said Johffe. " The hut is yours, such 
 as it is, and should be were it a king's palace, as
 
 WOODSTOCK. 59^ 
 
 I wish it were even for your honour's sake, and 
 Mistress Ahce — only I could wish your honour 
 would condescend to let me step down before, in 
 case any neighbour be there — or — or— just to put 
 matters something into order for Mistress Ahce 
 and your honour— just to make things something 
 seemly and shapely." 
 
 " Not a whit necessary," said the knight, 
 while Alice had much trouble in concealing her 
 agitation. " If thy matters are unseemly, they are 
 fitter for a defeated knight — if they are unshape- 
 ly, why, the liker to the rest of a world, which is 
 all unshaped. Go thou with that man. — What is 
 thy name, friend ?" 
 
 " Joseph Tomkins is my name in the flesh," 
 said the steward. " Men call me Honest Joe, 
 and Trusty Tomkins."" 
 
 " If thou hast deserved such names, consider- 
 ing what trade thou hast driven, thou art a jewel 
 indeed," said the knight ; " yet if thou hast not, 
 never blush for the matter, Joseph, for if thou 
 art not in truth honest, thou hast all the better 
 chance to keep the fame of it — the title and the 
 
 9
 
 GO 
 
 WOOJDSXOCK. 
 
 thing itself have long walked separate ways. Fare- 
 well to thee, — and farewell to fair Woodstock !" 
 So saying, the old knight turned round, and 
 pulling his daughter's arm through his own, they 
 walked onward into the forest, in the same pos- 
 ture in which they were introduced to the reader.
 
 WOODSTOCK. Gl 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Now, ye wild blades, that make loose inns your stage. 
 To vapour forth the ac(s of this sad age, 
 Stout Edgehill fight, the Newberries and the West, 
 And northern clashes, where you still fought best; 
 Your strange escapes, your dangers void of fear, 
 When bullets flew between the head and ear. 
 Whether you fought by Damme or the Spirit, 
 Of you I speak. 
 
 Legend of Captaiti Jones. 
 
 Joseph Tomkins and JolifFe the keeper re- 
 mained for some time in silence, as they stood 
 together looking along the path in which the 
 figures of the Knight of Ditchley and pretty 
 Mistress Alice had disappeared behind the trees. 
 They then gazed on each other in doubt, as 
 men who scarce knew whether they stood on hos- 
 tile or on friendly terms together, and were at 
 a loss how to open a conversation. They heard 
 the knight's whistle summon Bevis ; but though 
 the good hound turned his head and pricked his 
 ears at the sound, yet he did not obe}'^ the call.
 
 m 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 but continued to snufF around Joseph Tomkins's 
 cloak. 
 
 " Thou art a rare one, I fear me — " said the 
 keeper, looking to his new acquaintance. " I 
 have heard of men who have charms to steal 
 both dogs and deer." 
 
 " Trouble thyself not about my qualities, 
 friend," said Joseph Tomkins, " but bethink 
 thee of doing thy master's bidding." 
 
 Joceline did not immediately answer, but at 
 length, as if in sign of truce, stuck the end of his 
 quarter-staff upright in the ground, and leant 
 upon it as he said gruffly, — " So, my tough old 
 knight and you were at drawn bilbo, by way of 
 afternoon service, sir preacher — Well for you I 
 came not up till the blades were done jinglino-, 
 or I had rung even-song upon your pate." 
 
 The Independent smiled grimly as he replied, 
 " Nay, friend, it is well for thyself, for never 
 should sexton have been better paid for tiie 
 knell he tolled. Nevertheless, why should there 
 be war betwixt us, or my hand be against thine ? 
 Thou art but a poor knave, doing thy master's 
 order, nor have I any desire that my own blood 
 or thine should be shed touching this matter. —
 
 WOODSTOCK. 63 
 
 Thou art, I understand, to give me peaceful pos- 
 session of the Palace of Woodstock, so called — 
 though there is now no palace in England, no, nor 
 shall be in the days that come after, until we shall 
 enter the palace of the New Jerusalem, and the 
 reign of the Saints shall commence on earth." 
 
 " Pretty well begun already, friend Tomkins,"" 
 said the keeper ; " you are little short of being 
 kings already upon the matter as it now stands ; 
 and for your Jerusalem I wot not, but Woodstock 
 is a pretty nest-egg to begin with. — Well, will 
 you shog — will you on- — will you take sasine and 
 livery ? — You heard my orders." 
 
 " Umph — I know not," said Tomkins. *' I 
 must beware of ambuscades, and I am alone 
 here. Moreover, it is the High Thanksgiving 
 appointed by Parliament, and owned to by the 
 army — also the old man and the young woman 
 may want to recover some of their clothes and 
 personal property, and I would not that they 
 were baulked on my account. Wherefore, if 
 thou wilt deliver me possession to-morrow morn- 
 ing, it shall be done, in personal presence of my 
 own followers, and of the Presbyterian man the 
 Mayor, So that the transfer may be made before
 
 04) WOODSTOCK. 
 
 witnesses ; whereas, were there none with us but 
 thou to deliver, and I to take possession, the men 
 of Belial might say, Go to, Trusty Tomkins hath 
 been an Edomite — Honest Joe hath been as an 
 Ishmaelite, rising up early and dividing the spoil 
 with them that served the Man — yea, they that 
 wore beards and green jerkins, as in remembrance 
 of the Man and of his government.'" 
 
 Joceline fixed his keen dark eyes upon the 
 soldier as he spoke, as if in design to discover 
 whether there was fair play in his mind or not. 
 He then applied his five fingers to scratch a large 
 shock head of hair, as if that operation was 
 necessary to enable him to come to a conclusion. 
 " This is all fair sounding, brother," saidhe; "but 
 I tell you plainly, there are some silver mugs, and 
 platters, and flagons, and so forth, in yonder house, 
 which have survived the general sweep that sent 
 all our plate to the smelting-pot, to put our knight's 
 troop on horseback. Now, if thou takest not these 
 off my hand, I may come to trouble, since it may 
 be thouffht I have minished their numbers ; — 
 Whereas, I being as honest a fellow " 
 
 "As ever stole venison," said Tomkins—" nay, 
 I do owe thee an interruption."
 
 WOODSTOCK. C5 
 
 " Go to, then,"" replied llic keeper ; " if a stag 
 may have come to mischance in my walk, it was 
 no way in the course of dishonesty, but merely 
 to keep my old darnels pan from rusting ; but 
 for silver porringers, tankards, and such like, I 
 would as soon have drunk the melted silver as 
 stolen the vessel made out of it. So that I would 
 not wish blame or suspicion fell on trto in this 
 matter. And therefore, if you will have the 
 things rendered even now, why so— ^and if not, 
 hold me blameless.'" 
 
 " Ayj truly ?" said Tomkins ; " and who is to 
 hold me blameless if they should see cause to 
 think anything minished ? Not the right worship- 
 ful Commissioners, to whom the property of the 
 estate is as their own ; therefore, as thou say'st, 
 we must walk warily in the matter. To lock up 
 the house and leave it, were but the work of 
 simple ones. What say'st thou to spend the 
 night there, and then nothing can be touched 
 without the knowledge of us both ?" 
 
 " Why, concerning that,'' answered the keep- 
 er, " I should be at my hut to make matters 
 
 vol,. T. jr.
 
 ()6 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 somewhat conformable for him and Mistress 
 Alice, for my old dame Joan is something 
 dunny, and will scarce know how to manage — 
 and yet, to speak truth, by the mass I would 
 rather not see Sir Henry to-night, since what has 
 happed to-day hath roused his spleen, and it is 
 a peradventure he may have met something at 
 the hut which will scarce tend to cool it." 
 
 " It is a pity," said Tomkins, " that being a 
 gentleman of such grave and goodly presence, 
 he should be such a malignant cavalier, and that 
 he should, like the rest of that generation of 
 vipers, have clothed himself with curses as with 
 a garment." 
 
 " Which is as much as to say, the tough old 
 knight hath a habit of swearing," said the keep- 
 er, grinning at a pun, which has been repeated 
 since his time ; " but who can help it ? it comes 
 of use and wont. Were you now, in your bodily 
 self, to light suddenly on a Maypole, with all 
 the blithe morris-dancers prancing around it to 
 the merry pipe and tabor, with bells jingling, 
 ribbons fluttering, lads frisking, and laughing
 
 WOODSTOCK. G7 
 
 lasses leaping till you miglit see where the scarlet 
 garter fastened the light-blue hose, I think sonic 
 feeling, resembling either natural sociality, or 
 old use and wont, would get the better, friend, 
 even of thy gravity, and thou would'st fling thy 
 cuckoldy steeple-hat one way, and that blood- 
 thirsty long-sword another, and trip like the 
 noodles of Hogs-Norton, when the pigs play on 
 the organ." 
 
 The Independent turned fiercely round on the 
 keeper, and replied, " How now, Mr Green Jer- 
 kin ? what language is this to one whose hand 
 is at the plough ? I advise thee to put curb on 
 thy tongue, lest thy ribs pay the forfeit/'* 
 
 " Nay, do not take the high tone with me, 
 brother," answered Joceline ; " remember thou 
 hast not the old knight of sixty-five to deal with, 
 but a fellow as bitter and prompt as thyself — 
 it may be a little more so — younger, at all events 
 — and prithee, why should'st thou take such um- 
 brage at a Maypole ? I would thou hadst known 
 one Phil Hazeldine of these parts — He was the 
 best morris-dancer betwixt Oxford and Burford."
 
 68 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " The more shame to him," answered the In^ 
 dependent ; " and I trust he has seen the error 
 of his waj's, and made himself (as, if a man of 
 action, he easily might) fit for better company 
 than wood-hunters, deer-stealers. Maid Marions, 
 swash-bucklers, deboshed revellers, bloody brawl- 
 ers, maskers and mummers, lewd men and light 
 women, fools and fiddlers, and carnal self-plea- 
 sers of every description."" 
 
 " Well," replied the keeper, " you are out of 
 breath in time ; for here we stand before the fa- 
 mous Maypole of Woodstock."" 
 
 They paused in an open space of meadow-land, 
 beautifully skirted by large oaks and sycamores, 
 one of which, as king of the forest, stood a little 
 detached from the rest, as if scorning the vi- 
 cinity of any rival. It was scathed and gnarl- 
 ed in the branches, but the immense trunk still 
 showed to what gigantic size the monarch of the 
 forest can attain in the groves of merry England. 
 
 " That is called the King"'s Oak," said Joce- 
 line ; " the oldest men of Woodstock know not 
 how old it is ; they say Henry used to sit under
 
 WOODSTOCK. 69 
 
 it with fair Rosamond, and see the lasses dance, 
 and tlie lads of the village run races, and wrestle 
 for belts or bonnets." 
 
 " I nothing doubt it, friend,'' said Tomkins ; 
 *< a tyrant and a harlot were fitting patron and 
 patroness for such vanities." 
 
 " Thou may'st say thy say, friend," replied 
 the keeper, "so thou lettest me say mine. There 
 stands the Maypole, as thou seest, half a flight- 
 shot from the King's Oak, in the midst of the 
 meadow. The King gave ten shillings from the 
 customs of Woodstock to make a new one yearly, 
 besides a tree fitted for the purpose out of the 
 forest. Now it is warped and withered, and twist- 
 ed like a wasted briar-rod. The green, too, used 
 to be close-shaved, and rolled till it was smooth 
 as a velvet mantle— now it is rough and over- 
 grown." 
 
 " Well, well, friend Joceline," said the Inde- 
 pendent, ** but where was the edification of all 
 this ? — what use of doctrine could be derived 
 from a pipe and tabor ? or was there ever aught 
 like wisdom in a bagpipe .^"
 
 70 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 a 
 
 You may ask better scholars that," said 
 Jocehne ; " but methinks men cannot be always 
 grave, and with the hat over their brow. A young 
 maiden will laugh as a tender flower will blow — 
 ay, and a lad will like her the better for it ; just 
 as the same blithe spring that makes the young- 
 birds whistle, bids the blithe fawns skip. There 
 have come worse days since the jolly old times 
 have gone by : — I tell thee, that in the holidays 
 which you, Mr Longsword, have put down, I 
 have seen this greensward alive with merry maid- 
 ens and manly fellows. The good old rector him- 
 self thought it was no sin to come for a while 
 and look on, and his goodly cassock and scarf 
 kept us all in good order, and taught us to limit 
 our mirth within the bounds of discretion. We 
 might, it may be, crack a broad jest, or pledge 
 a friendly cup a turn too often, but it was in 
 mirth and good neighbourhood — Ay, and if there 
 was a bout at single-stick, or a bellyful of box- 
 ing, it was all for love and kindness ; and better 
 a few dry blows in drink, than the bloody doings 
 we have had in sober earnest, since the presby-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 71 
 
 ter's cap got above the bishop's mitre, and we 
 exchanged our goodly rectors and learned doc- 
 tors, whose sermons were all bolstered up with 
 as much Greek and Latin as might have con- 
 founded the devil himself, for weavers and cob- 
 blers, and such other pulpit volunteers, as — as 
 we heard this morning — It will out." 
 
 *' Well, friend," said the Independent, with 
 patience scarce to have been expected, " I quar- 
 rel not with thee for nauseating my doctrine. If 
 thine ear is so much tickled with tabor tunes and 
 morris tripping, truly it is not likely thou should'st 
 find pleasant savour in more wholesome and sober 
 food. — But let us to the Lodge, that we may go 
 about our business there before the sun sets." 
 
 " Troth, and that may be advisable for more 
 reasons than one," said the keeper, " for there 
 have been tales about the Lodge which have made 
 men afeard to harbour there after nightfall." 
 
 " Were not yon old knight, and yonder dam- 
 sel his daughter, wont to dwell there .?" said the 
 Independent. " My information said so." 
 
 " Ay, truly did they," said Joceline ; " and
 
 72 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 when they kept a jolly household, all went well 
 enough ; for nothing banishes fear like good ale. 
 But after the best of our men went to the wars, 
 and were slain at Naseby flight, they who were 
 left found the Lodge more lonesome, and the old 
 knight has been much deserted of his servants : 
 — marry, it might be, that he has lacked silver 
 of late to pay groom and lackey."*' 
 
 " A potential reason for the diminution of a 
 household," said the soldier. 
 
 " Right, sir, even so," replied the keeper. 
 " They spoke of steps in the great gallery, heard 
 by dead of the night, and voices that whispered 
 at noon in the matted chambers ; and the ser- 
 vants pretended that these things scared them 
 away ; but in my poor judgment, when Martin- 
 mas and Whitsuntide came round without a pen- 
 ny-fee, the old blue-bottles of serving-men began 
 to think of creeping elsewhere before the frost 
 chilled them — No devil so frightful as that which 
 dances in the pocket where there is no cross to 
 keep him out." 
 
 " You were reduced, then, to a petty house- 
 hold .^" said the Independent.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 73 
 
 " Ay, marry, were we," said Joceline ; " but 
 we kept some half-score together, what with blue- 
 bottles in the Lodge, what with green caterpil- 
 lars of the chase, like him who is yours to com- 
 mand ; we stuck together till we found a call to 
 take a morning's ride somewhere or other." 
 
 " To the town of Worcester," said the soldier, 
 " where you were crushed like vermin and palm- 
 er worms, as you are." 
 
 " You may say your pleasure," replied the 
 keeper ; " I'll never contradict a man who has 
 got my head under his belt. Our backs are at 
 the wall, or you would not be here." 
 
 " Nay, friend," said the Independent, " thou 
 riskest nothing by thy freedom and trust in me. 
 I can be hon camarado to a good soldier, although 
 I have striven with him even to the going down of 
 the sun. — But here we are in front of the Lodge." 
 
 They stood accordingly in front of the old 
 Gothic building, irregularly constructed, and at 
 different times, as the humour of the English 
 monarchs led them to taste the pleasures of Wood- 
 stock Chase, and to make sucli improvements for
 
 '74 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 their own accommodation as the increasing luxury 
 of each age required. The oldest part of the 
 structure had been named by tradition Fair Ro- 
 samond's Tower ; it was a small turret of great 
 height, with narrow windows, and walls of mas- 
 sive thickness. The tower had no opening to 
 the ground, or means of descending, a great part 
 of the lower portion being solid mason-work. It 
 was traditionally said to have been accessible only 
 by a sort of small drav/bridge, which might be 
 dropped at pleasure from a little portal near the 
 summit of the turret, to the battlements of another 
 tower of the same construction, but twenty feet 
 lower, and containing only a winding stair-case, 
 called in Woodstock Love''s Ladder ; because it 
 is said, that by ascending this stair-case to the 
 top of the tower, and then making use of the 
 draw-bridge, Henry obtained access to the cham- 
 ber of his paramour. 
 
 This tradition had been keenly impugned by 
 T)r Rochecliffe, the former rector of Woodstock, 
 who insisted, that what was called Rosamond's 
 Tower, was merely an interior keep, or citadel, to
 
 WOODSTOCK. 75 
 
 which the lord or warden of the castle might re- 
 treat, when other points of safety failed him ; and 
 either protract his defence, or, at the worst, stipu- 
 late for reasonable terms of surrender. The peo- 
 ple of Woodstock, jealous of their ancient tradi- 
 tions, did not relish this new mode of explaining 
 them away ; and it is even said, that the Mayor, 
 whom we have already introduced, became Pres- 
 byterian, in revenge of the doubts cast by the 
 rector upon this important subject, rather choo- 
 sing to give up the Liturgy than his fixed belief 
 in Rosamond's Tower, and Love's Ladder. 
 
 The rest of the Lodge was of considerable ex- 
 tent, and of different ages ; comprehending a nest 
 of little courts, surrounded by buildings which 
 corresponded with each other, sometimes within- 
 doors, sometimes by crossing the courts, and fre- 
 quently in both ways. The different heights of 
 the building announced that they could only be 
 connected by the usual variety of stair-cases, which 
 exercised the limbs of our ancestors in the six- 
 teenth and earlier centuries, and seem sometimes 
 to have been contrived for no other purpose.
 
 76 V/OODSTOCK. 
 
 The varied and multiplied fronts of this irregu- 
 lar building were, as Dr RocheclifFe was wont to 
 say, an absolute banquet to the architectural an- 
 tiquary, as they certainly contained specimens of 
 every style which existed from the pure Norman 
 of Henry of Anjou, down to the composite, half 
 Gothic, half classical architecture, of Elizabeth 
 and her successor. Accordingly, the rector was 
 himself as much enamoured of Woodstock as 
 ever was Henry of Fair Rosamond ; and as his 
 intimacy with Sir Henry Lee permitted him en- 
 trance at all times to the Royal Lodge, he used 
 to spend whole days in wandering about the an- 
 tique apartments, examining, measuring, study- 
 ing, and finding out excellent reasons for archi- 
 tectural peculiarities, which probably only owed 
 their existence to the freakish fancy of a Gothic 
 iirtist. But the old antiquarian had been expel- 
 led from his living by the intolerance and troubles 
 of the times, and his successor, Nehemiah Hold- 
 enough, would have considered an elaborate in- 
 vestigation of the profane sculpture and architec- 
 ture of blinded and blood-thirsty Papists, toge-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 77 
 
 ther with the history of the dissokite amours of 
 old Nomian monarchs, as little better than a 
 bowing down before the calves of Bethel, and a 
 drinking of the cup of abominations. — We I'eturn 
 to the course of our story. 
 
 " There is," said the Independent Tomkins, 
 after he had carefully perused the front of the 
 building, " many a rare monument of olden 
 wickedness about this miscalled Royal Lodge ; 
 verily, I shall rejoice much to see the same de- 
 stroyed, yea, burned to ashes, and the ashes 
 thrown into the brook Kedron, or any other 
 brook, that the land may be cleansed from the 
 memory thereof, neither remember the iniquity 
 with which their fathers have sinned." 
 
 The keeper heard him with secret indignation, 
 and began to consider with himself, whether, as 
 they stood but one to one, and without chance of 
 speedy interference, he was not called upon, by 
 his official duty, to castigate the rebel who used 
 language so defamatory. But he fortunately re- 
 collected, that the strife must be a doubtful one 
 —that tin? advantage of arms was against him—
 
 78 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and that, in especial, even if he should succeed 
 in the combat, it would be at the risk of severe 
 retaUation. It must be owned, too, that there 
 was something about the Independent so dark 
 and mysterious, so grim and grave, that the more 
 open spirit of the keeper felt oppressed, and, if 
 not overawed, at least kept in doubt concerning 
 him ; and he thought it wisest, as well as safest, 
 for his master and himself, to avoid all subjects 
 of dispute, and know better with whom he was 
 dealing, before he made either friend or enemy 
 of him. 
 
 The great gate of the Lodge was strongly bolt- 
 ed, but the wicket opened on Joceline's raising 
 the latch. There was a short passage of ten feet, 
 which had been formerly closed by a portcullis 
 at the inner end, while three loop-holes opened on 
 either side, through which any daring intruder 
 might be annoyed, who, having surprised the 
 first gate, must be thus exposed to a severe fire 
 before he could force the second. But the ma- 
 chinery of the portcullis was damaged, and it 
 now remained a fixture, brandishing its jaw, well
 
 WOODSTOCK. 79 
 
 furnished with iron fangs, but incapable of drop- 
 ping it across the path of invasion. 
 
 The way, therefore, lay open to the great 
 hall, or outer vestibule of the Lodge. One end 
 of this long and dusky apartment was entirely 
 occupied by a gallery, which had in ancient times 
 served to accommodate the musicians and min- 
 strels. There was a clumsy stair-case at either side 
 of it, composed of entire logs of a foot square ; 
 and in each angle of the ascent was placed, by 
 way of sentinel, the figure of a Norman foot-sol- 
 dier, having an open casque on his head, which 
 displayed features as stern as the painter''s genius 
 could devise. Their arms were buff-jackets, or 
 shirts of mail, round bucklers, with spikes in the 
 centre, and buskins, which adorned and defended 
 the feet and ancles, but left the knees bare. These 
 wooden warders held great swords, or maces, in 
 their hands, like military guards on duty. Many 
 an empty hook and brace, along the walls of the 
 gloomy apartment, marked the spots from which 
 arms, long preserved as trophies, had been, in the 
 pressure of the war, once more taken down to do 
 
 u
 
 80 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 service in the field, lii<e veterans whom extre- 
 mity of danger recalls to battle. On other rusty 
 fastenings were still displayed the hunting tro- 
 phies of the monarchs to whom the Lodge be- 
 longed, and of the sylvan knights to whose care 
 it had been from time to time confided. 
 
 At the nether end of the hall, a huge, heavy, 
 stone-wrought chimney-piece, projected itself ten 
 feet from the wall, adorned with many a cypher, 
 and many a scutcheon of the Royal House of 
 England. In its present state, it yawned like the 
 arched mouth of a funeral vault, or perhaps 
 might be compared to the crater of an extin- 
 guished volcano. But the sable complexion of 
 the massive stone-work, and all around it, showed 
 that the time had been when it sent its huge fires 
 blazing up the huge chimney, besides puffing 
 many a volume of smoke over the heads of the 
 jovial guests, whose royalty or nobility did not 
 render them sensitive enough to quarrel with 
 such slight inconvenience. On these occasions, it 
 was the tradition of the house, that two cart-loads 
 of wood was the regular allowance for the fire 
 
 IG
 
 WOODSTOCK. 81 
 
 between noon and curfew, and the andirons, or 
 dogs, as they were termed, constructed for retain- 
 ing the blazing fii'e-wood on the hearth, were 
 wrought in the shape of lions of such gigantic size, 
 as might well warrant the legend. There were long 
 seats of stone within the chimney, where, in despite 
 of the tremendous heat, monarchs were sometimes 
 said to have taken their station, and amused them- 
 selves with broiling the unibles, or dotosets^ of the 
 deer, upon the glowing embers, with their own 
 royal hands. Tradition was here also ready with 
 her record, to show what merry gibes, such as 
 might be exchanged between prince and peer, 
 had flown about at the merry banquet whicii 
 followed the Michaelmas hunt. She could tell, 
 too, exactly, where King Stephen sat when he 
 darned his own princely hose, and of the odd 
 tricks he had put upon little Winkin, the tailor 
 of Woodstock. 
 
 Most of this rude revelry belonged to the Plan- 
 lagenct times. W hen the house of Tudor acceded 
 lo the throne, they were more chary of their royal 
 presence, and feasted in halls and chambers far 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 within, abandoning the outmost hall to the yeo- 
 men of the guard, who mounted their watch there, 
 and passed away the night with wassail and mirth, 
 exchanged sometimes for frightful tales of appa- 
 ritions and sorceries, which made some of those 
 grow pale, in whose ears the trumpet of a French 
 foeman would have sounded as joUily as a sum- 
 mons to the woodland chase. 
 
 Joceline pointed out the peculiarities of the 
 place to his gloomy companion more briefly than 
 we have detailed them to the reader. The Inde- 
 pendent seemed to listen with some interest at 
 first, but, flinging it suddenly aside, he said, in 
 a solemn tone, " Perish Babylon, as thy master 
 Nebuchadnezzar hath perished ! He is a wander- 
 er, and thou shalt be a waste place — yea, and a 
 wilderness — yea, a desert of salt, in which there 
 shall be thirst and famine." 
 
 " There is like to be enough of both to-night," 
 said Joceline, " unless the good knight's larder 
 be somewhat fuller than it is wont." 
 
 " We must care for the creature-comforts," 
 said the Independent, " but in due season, when
 
 WOODSTOCK. 83 
 
 our duties arc done. — Whitlicr lead these entran- 
 ces ?" 
 
 " That to the right," replied the keeper, " leadi 
 to what are called the state-apartments, not used 
 since the year sixteen hundred and thirty-nine, 
 when his blessed Majesty——" 
 
 " How, sir !" interrupted the Independent, in 
 a voice of thunder, " doest thou speak of Charles 
 Stuart as blessing, or blessed ? — beware the pro- 
 clamation to that effect." 
 
 " I meant no harm," answered the keeper, 
 suppressing his disposition to make a harsher re- 
 ply. " My business is with bolts and bucks, not 
 with titles and state affairs. But yet, whatever 
 may have happed since, that poor King was fol- 
 lowed with blessings enough from Woodstock, 
 for he left a glove full of broad pieces for the 
 poor of the place — ^" 
 
 " Peace, friend," said the Independent ; *' I 
 will think thee else one of those besotted and 
 blinded Papists, who hold, that bestowing of alms 
 is an atonement and washing away of the wrongs 
 and oppressions which Iiave been wrought by
 
 84 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 the alms-giver. Thou sayest, then, these were the 
 apartments of Charles Stuart ?" 
 
 " And of his father, James, before him, and 
 Elizabeth, before himy and bluff King Henry, 
 who builded that wing, before them all." 
 
 " And there, I suppose, the knight and his 
 daughter dwelt ?" 
 
 " No," replied Joceline ; " Sir Henry Lee 
 had too much reverence for — for things which 
 are now thought worth no reverence at all — Be- 
 sides, the state-rooms are unaired, and in indif- 
 ferent order, since of late years. The Knight Ran- 
 ger's apartment lies by that passage to the left." 
 " And whither goes yonder stair which seems 
 both to lead upwards and downwards ?" 
 
 " Upwards," replied the keeper, " it leads to 
 many apartments, used for various purposes, of 
 sleeping, and other accommodation. Downwards, 
 to the kitchen, offices and vaults of the castle, 
 which, at this time of the evening, you cannot 
 see without lights." 
 
 " We will to the apartments of your knight, 
 then," said the Independent. '' Is there fitting 
 accommodation there .'''''
 
 WOODSTOCK. 85 
 
 " Such as has served a person of condition, 
 whose lodging is now worse appointed," answer- 
 ed the honest keeper, his bile rising so fast that he 
 added, in a muttering and inaudible tone, " so it 
 may well serve a crop-eared knave like thee." 
 
 He acted as the usher, however, and led on 
 towards the ranger's apartments. 
 
 This suite opened by a short passage from the 
 hall, secured at time of need by two oaken doors, 
 which could be fastened by large bars of the same, 
 that were dra\vn out of the wall, and entered 
 into square holes contrived for their reception 
 on the other side of the portal. At the end of 
 this passage, a small anteroom received them, 
 into which opened the sitting-apartment of the 
 good knight — which, in the style of the times, 
 might have been termed a fair summer parlour — 
 lighted by two oriel windows, so placed as to com- 
 mand each of them a separate avenue, leading 
 distant and deep down into the forest. The prin- 
 cipal ornament of the apartment, besides two or 
 three family portraits of less interest, was a tall 
 full-length picture, which hung above the chim- 
 ney-piece, which, like that in the hall, was of
 
 Sii woodstocKj 
 
 heavy stone- work, ornamented with carved scut- 
 cheons, emblazoned with various devices. The 
 portrait was that of a man about fifty years of 
 age, in complete plate armour, and painted in 
 the harsh and dry manner of Holbein — probably, 
 indeed, the work of that artist, as the dates cor- 
 responded. The formal and marked angles, 
 points, and projections of the armour, were a 
 good subject for the harsh pencil of that early 
 school. The face of the knight was, from the 
 fading of the colours, pale and dim, like that of 
 some being from the other world, yet the lines 
 expressed forcibly pride and exultation. He 
 pointed with his leading-staff or truncheon to the 
 back-ground, where, in such perspective as the 
 artist possessed, were depicted the remains of a 
 burning church, or monastery, and four or five 
 soldiers, in red cassocks, bearing away in triumph 
 what seemed a brazen font or laver. Above their 
 heads might be traced in scroll, " Lee Victor sic 
 voluii.'''' Right opposite to the picture hung, in 
 a niche in the wall, a complete set of tilting ar- 
 mour, the black and gold colours, and ornaments.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 of which, exactly corresponded with those exhibit- 
 ed in the portrait. 
 
 The picture was one of those which, from 
 something marked in the features and expres- 
 sion, attract the observation even of those who 
 are ignorant of art. The Independent looked 
 at it until a smile passed transiently over his 
 clouded brow. Whether he smiled to see the 
 grim old cavalier employed in desecrating a reli- 
 gious house — (an occupation much conforming 
 to the practice of his own sect) — whether he smi- 
 led in contempt of the old painter's harsh and 
 dry mode of working— or whether the sight of 
 this remarkable portrait revived some other ideas, 
 the under-keeper could not decide. 
 
 The smile passed away in an instant, as the 
 soldier looked to the oriel windows. The recesses 
 within them were raised a step or two from the 
 wall. In one was placed a walnut-tree] reading- 
 desk, and a huge stuffed arm-chair, covered with 
 Spanish leather. A little cabinet stood beside, 
 with some of its shuttles and drawers open, dis- 
 playing hawks-bells, dog-whistles, instruments for 
 trimming a falcon's feathers, bridle-bits of various
 
 88 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 constructions, and otlier trifles connected with 
 sylvan sport. 
 
 The other little recess was differently furnish- 
 ed. There lay some articles of needle-work on a 
 small table, besides a lute, with a book having 
 some airs pricked down in it, and a frame for 
 working embroidery. Some tapestry was display. 
 ed around the recess, with more attention to orna- 
 ment than was visible in the rest of the apartment ; 
 the arrangement of a few bow-pots, with such 
 flowers as the fading season afforded, showed 
 also the superintendence of female taste. 
 
 Tomkins cast an eye of careless regard upon 
 these subjects of female occupation, then stepped 
 into the farther window, and began to turn the 
 leaves of a folio, which lay open on the reading- 
 desk, apparently with some interest. Joceline, 
 who had determined to watch his motions with- 
 out interfering with them, Avas standing at some 
 distance in dejected silence, vi'hen a door behind 
 the tapestry suddenly opened, and a pretty vil- 
 lage maid tripped out with a napkin in her hand, 
 as if she had been about some household duty. 
 " How now, Sir Impudence .?" she said to
 
 WOODSTOCK. 89 
 
 Jocelinc, in a smart tone ; " what do you here 
 prowling about the apartments when the master 
 is not at home ?" 
 
 But instead of the answer which perhaps she 
 expected, Jocehne JolifFe cast a mournful glance 
 towards the soldier in the oriel window, as if to 
 make what he said fully intelligible, and replied 
 with a dejected appearance and voice, " Alack, 
 my pretty Phoebe, there come those here that 
 have more right or might than any of us, and 
 will use little ceremony in coming when they will, 
 and staying while they please."" 
 
 He darted another glance at Tomkins, who 
 still seemed busy with the book before him, then 
 sidled close to the astonished girl, who had con- 
 tinued looking alternately at the keeper and at 
 the stranger, as if she had been unable to under- 
 stand the words of the first, or to comprehend 
 the meaning of the second being present. 
 
 " Go," whispered Joliffe, approaching his 
 mouth so near her cheek, that his breath waved 
 the curls of her hair ; " go, my dearest Phoebe, 
 trip it as fast as a fawn down to my lodge — I 
 will soon be there, and——-"
 
 90 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Your lodge, indeed !" said Phoebe; "you are 
 very bold, for a poor killbuck that never fright- 
 ened anything before save a dun deer — Your 
 lodge, indeed ! — I am like to go there, I think." 
 
 " Hush, hush ! Phoebe — here is no time for 
 jesting. Down to my hut, I say, like a deer, for 
 the knight and Mrs Alice are both there, and I 
 fear will not return hither again. — All's naught, 
 girl — and our evil days are come at last with a 
 vengeance — we are fairly at bay and fairly hunt- 
 ed down." 
 
 " Can this be, Joceline ?^ said the poor girl, 
 turning to the keeper with an expression of 
 fright in her countenance, M'hich she had hither- 
 to averted in rural coquetry. 
 
 ** As sure, my dearest Phoebe, as " 
 
 The rest of the asseveration was lost in Phoebe's 
 ear, so closely did the keeper's lips approach it ; 
 and if they approached so very near as to touch 
 her cheek, grief, like impatience, hath its privi- 
 leges, and poor Phoebe had enough of serious 
 alarm to prevent her from demurring upon such 
 a trifle. 
 
 But no trifle was the approach of Joceline's
 
 WOODSTOCK. 91 
 
 Jips to Phoebe's pretty though suii-burnt clieek^ 
 in tlie estimation of the Independent, who, a ht- 
 tie before the object of Jocehne's vigilance, liad 
 been in his turn the observer of the keeper's 
 demeanour, so soon as the interview betwixt 
 Phoebe and him had become so interesting. And 
 when he remarked the closeness of Joceline's ar- 
 gument, he raised his voice to a pitch of harsh- 
 ness that would have rivalled that of a saw, and 
 which at once made Joceline and Phoebe spring 
 six feet apart, each in contrary directions, and 
 if Cupid was of the party, must have sent him 
 out at the window like a wild-duck flying from 
 a culverin. Instantly throwing himself into the 
 attitude of a preacher and a reprover of vice, 
 " How now !" he exclaimed, " shameless and 
 impudent as you are !— What — chambering and 
 wantoning in our very presence ! — How — would 
 you play your pranks before the steward of the 
 Commissioners of the High Court of Parliament, 
 as ye would in a booth at the fulsome fair, or 
 amidst the trappings and tracings of a profane 
 dancing-school, where the scoundrel minstrels 
 make their ungodly weapons to squeak, ' Kiss
 
 92 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and be kind, the fiddler's blind T^But here," 
 he said, dealing a perilous thump upon the 
 volume — " Here is the King and high priest of 
 those vices and follies ! — Here is he, whom men 
 of folly profanely call nature's miracle ! — Here is 
 he, whom princes chose for their cabinet-keeper, 
 and whom maids of honour take for their bed- 
 fellow ! — Here is the prime teacher of fine words, 
 foppery and folly — Here !" — (dealing another 
 thump upon the volume — and oh ! revered of the 
 Roxburghe, it was the first folio — beloved of the 
 Bannatyne, it was Hemmings and Condel — it 
 was the editio princeps) — " On thee," he conti- 
 nued—" on thee, William Shakspeare, I charge 
 whate'er of such lawless idleness and immodest 
 folly hath defiled the land since thy day !" 
 
 *' By the mass, a heavy accusation," said Joce- 
 line, the bold recklessness of whose temper could 
 not be long overawed ; " Odds pitlikins, is our 
 master's old favourite, Will of Stratford, to an- 
 swer for every buss that has been snatched since 
 James's time ? — a perilous reckoning truly — but 
 I wonder who is sponsible for what lads and lass- 
 es did before his day ?"
 
 WOODSTOCK. i)3 
 
 " Scoff not," said the soldier, " lest I, being 
 called thereto by the voice within me, do deal 
 with thee as a scorner. Verily I say, that since 
 the devil fell from Heaven, he never wanted 
 agents on earth ; yet nowhere hath he met with 
 a wizard having such infinite power over men's 
 souls as this pestilent fellow Shakspeare. Seeks 
 a wife a foul example for adultery, here she shall 
 find it — Would a man know how to train his 
 fellow to be a murderer, here shall he find tu- 
 toring — Would a lady marry a heathen negro, 
 she shall have chronicled example for it — Would 
 any one scorn at his Maker, he shall be furnished 
 with a jest in this book— Would he defy his bro- 
 ther in the flesh, he shall be accommodated with 
 a challenge — Would you be drunk, Shakspeare 
 will cheer you with a cup — Would you plunge in 
 sensual pleasures, he will soothe you to indul- 
 gence, as with the lascivious sounds of a lute. 
 This, I say, this book is the well-head and source 
 of all those evils which have overrun the land like 
 a torrent, making men scoffers, doubters, deniers, 
 murderers, make- bates, and lovers of the wine- 
 pot, haunting unclean places, and sitting long at
 
 Di WOODSTOCK. 
 
 the evening-wine. Away with him, away with 
 him, men of England ! to Tophet with his wick- 
 ed book, and to the Vale of Hinnom with his ac- 
 cursed bones ! Verily but that our march was 
 hasty when we passed Stratford, in the year 1643, 
 with Sir William Waller ; but that our march 
 was hasty ^" 
 
 '* Because Prince Rupert was after you with 
 his cavaliers,'' muttered the incorrigible Joce- 
 iine. 
 
 " I say,'' continued the zealous trooper, raising 
 his voice and extending his arm — " but that our 
 march was by command hasty, and that we turn- 
 ed not aside in our riding, closing our ranks each 
 one upon the other as becomes men of war, I 
 had torn on that day the bones of that preceptor 
 of vice and debauchery from the grave, and given 
 them to the next dunghill. I would have made 
 his memory a scoff and a hissing !" 
 
 " That is the bitterest thing he has said yet/' 
 observed the keeper. " Poor Will would have 
 liked the hissing worse than all the rest." 
 
 " Will the gentleman say any more .?" inqui- 
 red Phoebe in a wliisper. " Lack-a-day, he talks
 
 WOODSTOCK. 95 
 
 brave words, if one knew but wliat they meant. 
 But it is a mercy our good knight did not see him 
 ruffle the book at that rate — Mercy on us, there 
 would certainly have been bloodshed. — But oh 
 the father — see how he is twisting his face about ! 
 —Is he ill of the colic, think'st thou, Joceline? 
 Or, may I offer him a glass of strong waters ?" 
 
 " Hark thee hither, wench !" said the keeper, 
 " he is but loading his blunderbuss for another 
 volley ; and while he turns up his eyes, and 
 twists about his face, and clenches his fist, and 
 shuffles and tramples with his feet in that fashion, 
 he is bound to take no notice of anything. I 
 would be sworn to cut his purse, if he had one, 
 from his side, without his feeling it." 
 
 " La ! Joceline," said Phoebe, " and if he abides 
 here in this turn of times, I dare say the gentle- 
 man will be easily served." 
 
 " Care not thou about that," said Joliffe ; 
 " but tell me softly and hastily, what is in the 
 pantry ?" 
 
 Small house-keeping enough," said Phcebc, 
 
 a cold capon and some comfits, and the great 
 standing venison pasty, with plenty of spice— a 
 tnanchct or two besides, and that is all." 

 
 OC WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Well, it will serve for a pinch — wrap thy 
 cloak round thy comely body — get a basket and 
 a brace of trenchers and towels, they are heinous- 
 ly impoverished down yonder — carry down the 
 capon anel the manchets — the pasty must abide 
 with this same soldier and me, and the pie-crust 
 will serve us for bread." 
 
 " Rarely," said Phoebe ; " I made the paste 
 myself — it is as thick as the walls of Fair Rosa- 
 mond's Tower." 
 
 " Which two pair of jaws would be long in 
 gnawing through, work hard as they might," said 
 the keeper. " But what liquor is there .p" 
 
 " Only a bottle of Alicant, and one of sack, 
 with the stone jug of strong waters," answered 
 Phoebe. 
 
 " Put the wine-flasks into thy basket," said 
 Joceline, " the knight must not lack his evening- 
 draught — and down with thee to the hut like a 
 lapwing. There is enough for supper, and to- 
 morrow is a new day. — Ha ! by heaven I thought 
 yonder man's eye watched us — No — he only roll- 
 ed it round him in a brown study — Deep enough 
 
 doubtless as they all are. — But d — n iiim, he 
 
 17
 
 WOODSTOCIC. yi 
 
 must be bottomless if I cannot sound him before 
 the night's out. — Hie thee away, Phoebe." 
 
 But Fhoibe was a rural coquette, and, aware 
 that JoceHne''s situation gave him no advantage 
 of avenging the challenge in a fitting way, she 
 whispered in his ear, " Do you think our 
 knight's friend, Shakspeare, really found out 
 all these naughty devices the gentleman spoke 
 of.?" 
 
 Off she darted while she spoke, while Joliffe 
 menaced future vengeance with his finger, as he 
 muttered, " Go thy way, Phoebe Mayflower, the 
 lightest-footed and lightest-hearted wench that 
 ever tripped the sod in Woodstock-park .'—After 
 her, Bevis, and bring her safe to our master at 
 the hut." 
 
 The large grey-hound arose like a human 
 servitor who had received an order, and follow- 
 ed Phoebe through the hall, first licking her hand 
 to make her sensible of his presence, and then 
 putting himself to a slow trot, so as best to ac- 
 commodate himself to the light pace of her whom 
 he convoyed, whom Joceline had not extolled 
 for her activity without due reason. While Phoebe 
 
 VOL. I. c;
 
 98 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 anil her guardian thread the forest glades, we re- 
 turn to the Lodge. 
 
 The Independent now seemed to start as if 
 from a reverie. "Is the young woman gone ?'' 
 said he. 
 
 " Ay, marry is she,"" said the keeper ; " and 
 if your worship hath farther commands, you 
 must rest contented with male attendance." 
 
 " Commands — umph — I think the damsel 
 might have tan-ied for another exhortation,'' said 
 the soldier — *' truly, I profess my mind was much 
 inclined toward her for her edification."" 
 
 " Oh, sir," replied Joliffe, " she will be at 
 church next Sunday, and if your military reve- 
 rence is pleased again to hold forth amongst us, 
 she will have use of the doctrine with the rest. 
 But young maidens of these parts hear no pri« 
 vate homilies. — And what is now your pleasure ? 
 Will you look at the other rooms, and at the few 
 plate articles which have been left ?" 
 
 " Umph— no," said the Independent — " it 
 wears late, and gets dark — thou hast the means 
 of" giving us beds, friend ?" 
 
 " Better you never slept in," replied the keeper.
 
 M'OODSTOCK. 99 
 
 '* And wood for a fire, and a light, and some 
 small pittance of creature-comforts for refresli- 
 ment of the outward man?" continued the soldier. 
 
 " Without doubt," replied the keeper, dis- 
 playing a prudent anxiety to gratify this impor- 
 tant personage. 
 
 In a few minutes a great standing candlestick 
 was placed on an oaken table. The mighty veni- 
 son pasty, adorned with parsley, was placed on 
 the board on a clean napkin ; the stone-bottle 
 of strong waters, with a black-jack full of ale, 
 formed comfortable appendages ; and to this 
 meal sate down in social manner the soldier, 
 occupying a great elbow-chair, and the keeper, 
 at his invitation using the more lowly accommo» 
 dation of a stool, at the opposite side of the table. 
 Thus agreeably employed, our history leaves? 
 them for the present.
 
 100 \VOODSTOCK, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ." Yon path of greensward 
 
 Winds round by sparry grot and gay pavilion ; 
 There is no flint to gall thy tender foot, 
 There's ready shelter from each breeze, or shower — - 
 But Duty guides not that way — see her stand, 
 With wand entwined with amaranth, near yon cliffs. 
 Oft where she leads thy blood must mark thy footsteps, 
 Oft where she leads thy head must bear the storm, 
 And thy shrunk form endure heat, cold, and hunger ; 
 But she will guide thee up to noble heights, 
 Which he who gains seems native of the sky, 
 While earthly things lie stretch'd beneath his feet, 
 Diminish'd, shrunk, and valueless.—" 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 The reader cannot have forgotten that after 
 his scuffle with the commonwealth soldier, Sir 
 Henry Lee, with his daughter Alice, had de- 
 parted to take refuge in the hut of the stout 
 keeper Joceline Joliffe. They walked slow, as be- 
 fore, for the old knight was at once oppressed by 
 perceiving these last vestiges of royalty fall into 
 the hands of republicans, and by the recollection
 
 WOODSTOCK. 101 
 
 of his recent defeat. At times he paused, and 
 with his arms folded on his bosom, recalled all 
 the circumstances attending his expulsion from a 
 house so long his home. It seemed to him that, 
 like the champions of romance of whom he had 
 sometimes read, he himself was retiring from the 
 post which it was his duty to guard, defeated by 
 a Paynim knight, for whom the adventure had 
 been reserved by Fate. Alice had her own pain- 
 ful subjects of recollection, nor had the tenor of 
 her last conversation with her father been so 
 pleasant as to make her anxious to renew it until 
 his temper should be more composed ; for, with 
 an excellent disposition, and much love to his 
 daughter, age and misfortunes, which of late 
 came thicker and thicker, had given to the good 
 knight's passions a wayward irritability which 
 was unknown to his better days. His daughter, 
 and one or two attached servants, who still fol- 
 lowed his decayed fortunes, soothed his frailty as 
 much as possible, and pitied him even while they 
 suffered under its effects. 
 
 It was a long time ere he spoke, and then he 
 referred to an incident already noticed. " It
 
 102 V/OODSTOCIC. 
 
 is strange," he said, " that Bevis should have 
 followed Joceline and that fellow rather than me." 
 
 " Assure yourself, sir," replied Alice, " that 
 . his sagacity saw in this man a stranger, whom he 
 thought himself obliged to watch circumspectly, 
 and therefore he remained with Joceline." 
 
 " Not so, Alice," answered Sir Henry ; " he 
 leaves me because my fortunes have fled from 
 me. There is a feeling in nature, affecting even 
 the instinct, as it is called, of dumb animals, 
 which teaches them to fly from misfortune. The 
 very deer there will butt a sick or wounded buck 
 from the herd ; hurt a dog, and the whole kennel 
 will fall on him and worry him ; fishes devour 
 their own kind when they are wounded with a 
 spear ; cut a crow's wing, or break his leg, the 
 others will buffet it to death." 
 
 " That may be true of the more irrational 
 kinds of animals among each other," said Alice, 
 " for their whole life is well nigh a warfare ; but 
 the dog leaves his own race to attach himself to 
 ours ; forsakes, for his master, the company, food, 
 and pleasure of liis own kind ; and surely the fi- 
 delity of such a devoted and voluntary servant
 
 WOODSTOCK. 103 
 
 as Bevis hath been in particular, ought not to be 
 lightly suspected." 
 
 " I am not angry at the dog, Alice ; t am only 
 sorry," replied her father. " I have read, in 
 faithful chronicles, that when Richard II. and 
 Henry of Bolingbroke were at Berkeley Castle, 
 a dog of the same kind deserted the King, whom 
 he had always attended upon, and attached him- 
 self to Henry, whom he then saw for the first 
 time. Richard foretold, from the desertion of his 
 favourite, his approaching deposition. The dog 
 was afterwards kept at Woodstock, and Bevis 
 is said to be of his breed, which was heedfully 
 kept up. What I might foretell of mischief from 
 his desertion, I cannot guess, but my mind as- 
 sures me it bodes no good." 
 
 There was a distant rustling among the wi- 
 thered leaves, a bouncing or galloping sound on 
 the path, and the favourite dog instantly joined 
 his master. 
 
 " Come into court, old knave," said Alice, 
 cheerfully, " and defend thy character, which is 
 well nigh endangered by this absence." But the 
 dog only paid her courtesy by gambolling around
 
 104 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 them, and instantly plunged back again, as fast 
 as he could scamper. 
 
 " How npw, knave ?'' said the knight ; " thou 
 art too well trained, surely, to take up the chase 
 without orders." A minute more showed them 
 Phoebe Mayflower approaching, her light pace 
 so little impeded by the burthen which she bore, 
 that she joined her master and young mistress 
 just as they arrived at the keeper's hut, which 
 was the boundary of their journey. Bevis, who 
 had shot a-head to pay his compliments to Sir 
 Henry his master, had returned again to his im- 
 mediate duty, the escorting Phoebe and her cargo 
 of provisions. The whole party stood presently 
 assembled before the door of the keeper'^s hut. 
 
 In better times, a substantial stone habitation, 
 fit for the yeoman-keeper of a royal walk, had 
 adorned this place. A fair spring gushed out near 
 the spot, and once traversed yards and courts, 
 attached to well-built and convenient kennels and 
 mews. But in some of the skirmishes which were 
 common through the whole country during the 
 civil wars, this little sylvan dwelling had been 
 attacked and defended, stormed and burnt. A
 
 WOODSTOCK. 105 
 
 neighbouring squire, of the parliamentarian side 
 of the question, took advantage of Sir Henry 
 Lee's absence, who was in Charles's camp, and 
 of the decay of the royal cause, and had, with- 
 out scruple, carried off the hewn stones, and 
 such building materials as the fire left uncon- 
 sumed, and repaired his own manor-house with 
 them. The yeoman- keeper, therefore, our friend 
 Joceline, had constructed, for his own accommo- 
 dation, and that of the old woman he called his 
 dame, a wattled hut, such as his own labour, 
 with that of a neighbour or two, had erected in 
 the course of a few days. The walls were plas- 
 tered with clay, white-washed, and covered with 
 vines and other creeping plants; the roof was 
 neatly thatched, and the whole, though merely a 
 hut, had, by the neat-handed Joliffe, been so ar- 
 ranged as not to disgrace the condition of the 
 dweller. 
 
 The knight advanced to the entrance ; but 
 the ingenuity of the architect, for want of better 
 lock to the door, which itself was but of wattles 
 curiously twisted, had contrived a mode of se- 
 curing the latch on the inside with a pin, which 
 prevented it from rising ; and in this manner it
 
 106 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 was at present fastened. Conceiving that this Avas 
 some precaution of Joliffe's old housekeepei', of 
 whose deafness they were all aware, Sir Henry 
 raised his voice to demand admittance, but in 
 vain. Irritated at this delay, he pressed the door 
 at once with foot and hand, in a way which the 
 frail barrier was unable to resist ; it gave way ac- 
 cordingly, and the knight thus forcibly entered 
 tlie kitchen, or outward apartment, of his servant. 
 In the midst of the floor, and with a posture 
 which indicated embarrassment, stood a youth- 
 ful stranger, in a riding-suit. 
 
 " This may be my last act of authority here," 
 said the knight, seizing the stranger by the col- 
 lar, *' but I am still Ranger of Woodstock for 
 this night at least — Who, or what art thou ?"" 
 
 The stranger dropped the riding-mantle in 
 which his face was muffled, and at the same time 
 fell on one knee. 
 
 " Your poor kinsman, Markham Everard," he 
 said, " who came hither for your sake, although 
 he fears you will scarce make him welcome for 
 his own." 
 
 Sir Henry started back, but recovered himself 
 in an instant, as one who recollected that he had
 
 WOODSTOCK. 107 
 
 a part of dignity to perform. He stood erect, 
 therefore, and replied, with considerable assump- 
 tion of stately ceremony : 
 
 " Fair kinsman, it pleases me that you arc 
 come to Woodstock upon the very first night 
 that, for many years which have past, is likely to 
 promise you a worthy or a welcome reception." 
 
 « Now God grant it be so, that I rightly hear 
 and duly understand you," said the young man ; 
 while Alice, though she was silent, kept her looks 
 fixed on her father's face, as if desirous to know 
 whether his meaning was kind towards his ne= 
 phew, which her knowledge of his character in- 
 clined her greatly to doubt. 
 
 The knight meanwhile darted a sardonic look, 
 first on his nephew, then on his daughter, and 
 proceeded — " I need not, I presume, inform Mr 
 Markham Everard, that it cannot be our purpose 
 to entertain him, or even to offer him a seat in 
 this poor hut." 
 
 " I will attend you most willingly to the Lodge," 
 said the young gentleman. " I had, indeed, judged 
 you were already there for the evening, and fear- 
 ed to intrude upon you. But if you would per- 
 mit me, my dearest uncle, to escort my kinswo-
 
 108 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 man and you back to the Lodgej believe me 
 amongst all which you have so often done of 
 good and kind, you never conferred benefit that 
 will be so dearly prized." 
 
 " You mistake me greatly, Mr Markham Eve- 
 rard," replied the knight. "It is not our pur- 
 pose to return to the Lodge to-night, nor, by Our 
 Lady, to-morrow neither. I meant but to inti- 
 mate to you, in all courtesy, that at Woodstock 
 Lodge you will find those for whom you are fit- 
 ting society, and who, doubtless, will afford you 
 a wilhng welcome ; which I, sir, in this my pre- 
 sent retreat, do not presume to offer to a person 
 of your consequence." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," said the young man, 
 turning to Alice, " tell me how I am to under- 
 stand language so mysterious." 
 
 Alice, to prevent his increasing the restrained 
 anger of her father, compelled herself to answer, 
 though it was with diflSculty, *' We are expelled 
 from the Lodge by soldiers." 
 
 " Expelled— by soldiers !" exclaimed Everard, 
 in surprise — " there is no legal warrant for this." 
 
 " None at all," answered the knight, in the 
 same tone of cutting irony which he had all along
 
 WOODSTOCK. 109 
 
 used, " and yet as laAvful a warrant, as for aught 
 that has been wrought in England this twelve- 
 month and more. You are, I think, or were, an 
 Inns-of-Court-man — marry, sir, your enjoyment 
 of your profession is like that lease which a pro- 
 digal wishes to have of a wealthy widow. You 
 have already survived the law which you stu- 
 died, and its expiry doubtless has not been with- 
 out a legacy — some decent pickings, some mer- 
 ciful increases, as the phrase goes. You have de- 
 served it two ways — you wore buff and banda- 
 lier, as well as wielded pen and ink — I have not 
 heard if you held forth too." 
 
 " Think of me and speak of me as harshly as 
 you will, sir," said Everard, submissively. " I 
 have but, in this evil time, guided myself by my 
 conscience, and my father^'s commands." 
 
 " O, an you talk of conscience," said the old 
 knight, " I must have mine eye upon you, as 
 Hamlet says. Never yet did Puritan cheat so 
 grossly as when he was appealing to his con- 
 science ; and as for Xhy Jather " 
 
 He was about to proceed in a tone of the same 
 invective, when the young man interrupted liimv
 
 110 - WOODSTOCK. 
 
 by saying, in a firm tone, " Sir Henry Lee, j^ou 
 have ever been thought noble — Say of me what 
 you will, but speak not of my father what the 
 ear of a son should not endure, and which yet his 
 arm cannot resent. To do me such wrong is to 
 insult an unarmed man, or to beat a captive." 
 
 Sir Henry paused, as if struck by the re- 
 mark. " Thou hast spoken truth in that, Mark, 
 wert thou the blackest Puritan whom hell ever 
 vomited, to distract an unhappy country."" 
 
 " Be that as you will to think it," rephed Eve- 
 rard ; " but let me not leave you to the shelter 
 of this wretched hovel. The night is drawing to 
 storm — let me but conduct you to the Lodge, 
 and expel these intruders, who can as yet at least 
 have no warrant for what they do. I will not 
 linger a moment behind them, save just to deliver 
 my father"'s message. — Grant me but this much, 
 for the love you once bore me !" 
 
 " Yes, Mark," answered his uncle, firmly, but 
 sorrowfully, " thou speakest truth — I did love 
 thee once. The bright-haired boy whom I taught 
 to ride, to shoot, to hunt — whose hours of happi- 
 ness were spent M'ith me wherever those of gra-
 
 WOODSTOCK. Ill 
 
 ver labours were employed — I did love ihat boy 
 — ay, and I am weak enough to love even the 
 memory of what he was. — But he is gone, Mark 
 — he is gone ; and in his room I only behold an 
 avowed and determined rebel to his religion and 
 to his king — a rebel more detestable on account 
 of his success, the more infamous through the 
 plundered wealth with which he hopes to gild 
 his villainy. — But I am poor, thou think'st, and 
 should hold my peace, lest men say, ' Speak, sir- 
 rah, when you should. "" — Know, however, that 
 indigent and plundered as I am, I feel myself 
 dishonoured in holding even but this much talk 
 with the tool of usurping rebels. — Go to the 
 Lodge, if thou wilt — yonder lies the way — but 
 think not that to regain my dwelling there, or all 
 the wealth I ever possessed in my wealthiest days, 
 I would willingly accompany thee three steps on 
 the greensward. If I must be thy companion, it 
 shall be only when thy red-coats have tied my 
 hands behind me, and bound my legs beneath my 
 horse's belly. Thou may'st be my fellow-traveller 
 then, I grant thee, if thou wilt, but not sooner." 
 Alice, who suffered cruelly during this dia- 
 
 n
 
 112 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 logue, and was well aware that farther argument 
 would only kindle the knight's resentment still 
 more highly, ventured at last, in her anxiety, to 
 make a sign to her cousin to break off the inter- 
 view, and to retire, since her father commanded his 
 absence in a manner so peremptory. Unhappily 
 she was observed by Sir Henry, who, concluding 
 that what he saw was evidence of a private un- 
 derstanding betwixt the cousins, his wrath acqui- 
 red new fuel, and it required the utmost exertion 
 of self-command, and recollection of all that was 
 due to his own dignity, to enable him to veil his 
 real fury under the same ironical manner which 
 he had adopted at the beginning of this angry in- 
 interview. 
 
 "If thou art afraid," he said, " to trace our 
 forest-glades by night, respected stranger, to 
 whom I am perhaps bound to do honour as mj' 
 successor in the charge of these walks, here seems 
 to be a modest damsel, who will be most willing 
 to wait on thee, and be thy bow-bearer — Only, 
 for her niother''s sake, let there pass some slight 
 form of marriage between you — Ye need no li- 
 cence or priest in these happy days, but may be 
 buckled li1ve beggars in a ditch, with a hedge for
 
 WOODSTOCK. llfi 
 
 a church-roof, and a tinker for a priest. I crave 
 pardon of you for making such an officious and 
 simple request — perhaps you are a Ranter — or 
 one of the family of Love, or hold marriage rites 
 as unnecessary, as Knipperdoling, or Jack of 
 Leyden." 
 
 " For mercy's sake, forbear such dreadful jest- 
 ing, my father ; and do you, Markham, begone, 
 in God's name, and leave us to our fate — Your 
 presence makes my father rave." 
 
 " Jesting !" said Sir Henry, " I was never 
 more serious — Raving ! — I was never more com- 
 posed. — I could never brook that falsehood 
 should approach me — I would no more bear by 
 my side a dishonoured daughter than a disho- 
 noured sword ; and this unhappy day hath shown 
 that both can fail." 
 
 " Sir Henry," said young Everard, " load not 
 your soul with a heavy crime, which be assured 
 you do, in treating your daughter dius unjustly. 
 It is long now since you denied her to me, when 
 we were poor and you were powerful. I acqui- 
 esced in your prohibition of all suit and inter- 
 course. God knoweth what I suffered— but I 
 
 VOL. 1. H
 
 114 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 acquiesced. Neither is it to renew my suit that 
 I now come hither, and have, I do acknowledge, 
 sought speech of her — not for her own sake only, 
 but for yours also. Destruction hovers over you, 
 ready to close her pinions to stoop, and her ta- 
 lons to clutch — Yes, sir, look contemptuous as 
 you will, such is the case ; and it is to protect both 
 you and her that I am here." 
 
 " You refuse then my free gift," said Sir 
 Henry Lee ; " or perhaps you think it loaded 
 with too hard conditions .?" 
 
 " Shame, shame on you, Sir Henry !" said 
 Everard, waxing warm in his turn ; " have your 
 political prejudices so utterly warped every feel- 
 ing of a father, that you can speak with bitter 
 mockery and scorn of what concerns your own 
 daughter's honour.? — Hold up your head, fair 
 Alice, and tell your father he has forgotten na- 
 ture in his fantastic spirit of loyalty. — Know, 
 Sir Henry, that though I would prefer your 
 daughter's hand to every blessing which Heaven 
 could bestow on me, I would not accept it — my 
 conscience would not permit me to do so— when 
 I knew it must withdraw her from her duty to 
 vou.^'
 
 WOODSTOCK. 115 
 
 " Your conscience is over scrupulous, young 
 man ; — carry it to some dissenting rabbi, and he 
 who takes all that comes to net, will teach thee 
 it is sinning against our mercies to refuse any 
 good thing that is freely offered to us." 
 
 ** When it is freely offered, and kindly offered 
 — not when the offer is made in irony and insult. 
 •^Fare thee well, Alice — if aught could make me 
 desire to profit by thy father's wild wish to cast thee 
 from him in a moment of unworthy suspicion, it 
 would be that while indulging in such sentiments, 
 Sir Henry Lee is tyranically oppressing the crea- 
 ture, who of all others is most dependent on his 
 kindness — who of all others will most feel his 
 severity — and whom, of all others, he is most 
 bound to cherish and support." 
 
 " Do not fear for me, Mr Everard," exclaimed 
 Alice, aroused from her timidity by a dread of 
 the consequences not unlikely to ensue, where 
 civil war set relations, as well as fellow-citizens, 
 in opposition to each other.—" Oh, begone, I 
 conjure you begone ! Nothing stands betwixt me 
 and my father's kindness, but these unhappy fa- 
 mily divisions— but your ill-timed presence here 
 — For Heaven's sake leave us !"
 
 116 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Soh, mistress !" answered the hot old cava- 
 lier ; " you play lady paramount already ; and 
 who but you ! — ^you would dictate to our train, I 
 warrant, like Goneril and Regan. But I tell 
 thee, no man shall leave my house — and, humble 
 as it is, this is now my house — while he has 
 aught to say to me that is to be spoken, as this 
 young man now speaks, with a bent brow and a 
 lofty tone. — Speak out, sir, and say your worst !'* 
 
 " Fear not my temper, ]\Irs Alice," said Eve- 
 rard, with equal firmness and placidity of man- 
 ner; " and you, Sir Henry, do not think that if 
 I speak firmly, I mean therefore to speak in anger, 
 or officiously. You have taxed me with much, 
 and, were I guided by the wild spirit of romantic 
 chivalry, much which, even from so near a rela- 
 tive, I ought not, as being by birth, and in the 
 world's estimation, a gentleman, to pass over 
 without reply. Is it your pleasure to give me 
 patient hearing .?" 
 
 " If you stand on your defence," answered the 
 stout old knight, " God forbid that you should 
 not challenge a patient hearing — ay, though your 
 pleading were two parts disloyalty and one bias-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 117 
 
 phemy — Only, be brief — this has already lasted 
 but too long." 
 
 " I will, Sir Henry,"" replied the young man ; 
 *' yet it is hard to crowd into a few sentences, the 
 defence of a life which, though short, has been a 
 busy one — too busy, your indignant gesture would 
 assert. But I deny it ; I have drawn my sword 
 neither hastily, nor without due consideration, 
 for a people whose rights have been trampled on, 
 and whose consciences have been oppressed.— 
 Frown not, sir — such is not your view of the con- 
 test, but such is mine. For my religious princi- 
 ples, at which you have scoffed, believe me, that 
 though they depend not on set forms, they are 
 no less sincere than your own, and thus far purer 
 — excuse the word — that they are unmingled 
 with the blood-thirsty dictates of a barbarous age, 
 which you and others have called the code of 
 chivalrous honour. Not my own natural dispo- 
 sition, but the better doctrine which my creed 
 has taught, enables me to bear your harsh revi- 
 lings without answering in a similar tone of 
 wrath and reproach. You may carry insult to 
 extremity against mc at your pleasure — not on
 
 118 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 account of our relationship alone, but because I 
 am bound in charity to endure it. This, Sir Hen- 
 ry, is much from one of our house. But, with 
 forbearance far more than this requires, I can re- 
 fuse at your hands the gift, which, most of all 
 things under Heaven, I should desire to obtain, 
 because duty calls upon her to sustain and com- 
 fort you, and because it were sin to permit you, 
 in your blindness, to spurn your comforter from 
 your side. — Farewell, sir — not in anger but in 
 pity — We may meet in a better time, when your 
 heart and your principles shall master the un- 
 happy prejudices by which they are now over- 
 clouded Farewell — farewell, Alice !" 
 
 The last words were repeated twice, and in a 
 tone of feeling and passionate grief, which differ- 
 ed utterly from the steady and almost severe tone 
 in which he had addressed Sir Henry Lee. He 
 turned and left the hut so soon as he had uttered 
 these last words ; and, as if ashamed of the tender- 
 ness which had mingled with his accents, the 
 young commonwealth's-man turned and walked 
 steTnly and resolvedly forth into the moonlight, 
 which now was spreading its broad light and au- 
 tumnal shadows over the woodland.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 119 
 
 So soon as he was departed, Alice, who had 
 been during the whole scene in the utmost terror 
 that her father might have been hurried, by his 
 natural heat of temper, from violence of lan- 
 guage into violence of action, sunk down upon 
 a settle twisted out of willow-boughs, like most 
 of Joceline's few movables, and endeavoured to 
 conceal the tears which accompanied the thanks 
 she rendered in broken accents to Heaven, that, 
 notwithstanding the near alliance and relation- 
 ship of the parties, some fatal deed had not closed 
 an interview so perilous and so angry. Phoe- 
 be Mayflower blubbered heartily for company, 
 thousrh she understood but little of what had 
 passed ; just, indeed, enough to enable her af- 
 terwards to report to some half-dozen particu- 
 lar friends, that her old master, Sir Henry, had 
 been perilous angry, and almost fought with 
 young Master Everard, because he had well 
 nigh carried away her young mistress. — " And 
 what could he have done better ?" said Phcebe, 
 " seeing the old man had nothing left cither for 
 Mrs Alice or himself; and as for Mr Murk 
 Everard, and our young lady, oh, they had spo-
 
 120 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ken such loving things to each other, as are not 
 to be found in the history of Argalus and Par- 
 thenia, who, as tlie story-book tells, were the truest 
 pair of lovers in all Arcadia, and Oxfordshii-e to 
 boot." 
 
 Old Goody Jtllycot had popped her scarlet 
 hood into the kitchen more than once while the 
 scene was proceeding ; but, as the worthy dame 
 was parcel blind, and more than parcel deaf, 
 knowledge was excluded by two principal entran- 
 ces ; and though she comprehended, by a sort of 
 general instinct, that the gentlefolks were at high 
 words, yet why they chose Joceline's hut for the 
 scene of their dispute, was as great a mystery as 
 the subject of the quarrel. 
 
 But what was the state of the old cavalier's 
 mood, thus contradicted, as his most darling prin- 
 ciples had been, by the last words of his depart- 
 ing nephew ? The truth is, that he was less tho- 
 roughly moved than his daughter expected ; and 
 in all probability his nephew's bold defence of his 
 religious and political opinions rather pacified 
 than aggravated his displeasure. Although suf- 
 ficiently impatient of contradiction, still evasion
 
 WOODSTOCK. 121 
 
 and subterfuge were more alien to the blunt old 
 Ranger's nature than manly vindication and di- 
 rect opposition ; and he was wont to say, that he 
 ever loved the buck best who stood boldest at 
 bay. He graced his nephew's departure, how- 
 ever, with a quotation from Shakspeare, whom, 
 as many others do, he was wont to quote from 
 a sort of habit and respect to him, as a favourite 
 of his unfortunate master, without having either 
 much real taste for his works, or great skill in ap- 
 plying the passages which he retained on his me- 
 mory, 
 
 *' Mark," he said, " mark this, Alice — the de- 
 vil can quote scripture for his purpose. Why, 
 this young fanatic cousin of thine, with no more 
 beard than I have seen on a clown playing Maid 
 Marion on May-day; when the village barber 
 had shaved him in too great a hurry, shall match 
 any bearded Presbyterian or Independent of 
 them all, in laying down his doctrines and his 
 uses, and bethumping us with his texts and his 
 homihes. I would worthy and learned Doctor 
 RocheclifFe had been here, with his battery ready- 
 mounted from the Vulgate; and the Sepluagint. 
 
 14
 
 122 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and what not — he would have battered the pres- 
 byterian spirit out of him with a wanion. How- 
 ever, I am glad the young man is no sneaker ; 
 for, were a man of the devil's opinion in religion, 
 and of Old Noll's in politics, he were better open 
 on it full cry, than deceive you by hunting coun- 
 ter, or running a false scent. Come — wipe thine 
 eyes — the fray is over, and not like to be stirred 
 again soon, I trust." 
 
 Encouraged by these words, Ali(« rose, and, 
 bewildered as she was, endeavoured to superin- 
 tend the arrangements for their meal and their 
 repose in their new habitation. But her tears fell 
 so fast, they marred her counterfeited diligence ; 
 and it was well for her that Phoebe, though too 
 ignorant and too simple to comprehend the ex- 
 tent of her distress, could afford her material as- 
 sistance, in lack of mere sympathy. 
 
 With great readiness and address, the damsel 
 set about everything that was requisite for pre- 
 paring the supper and the beds ; now screaming 
 into Dame Jellycot's ear, now whispering into 
 her mistress's, and artfully managing, as if she 
 was merely the agent, under Alice's orders. When
 
 WOODSTOCK. 123 
 
 the cold meat was set forth, Sir Henry Lee kind- 
 ly pressed his daughter to take refreshment, as 
 if to make up, indirectly, for his previous harsh- 
 Hess towards her ; while he himself, like an expe- 
 rienced campaigner, showed, that neither the 
 mortifications nor brawls of the day; nor the 
 thoughts of what was to come to-morrow, could 
 diminish his appetite for supper, which was his 
 favourite meal. He ate up two-thirds of the ca- 
 pon, and, devoting the first bumper to the happy 
 restoration of Charles, second of the name, he 
 finished a quart of wine ; for he belonged to a 
 school accustomed to feed the flame of their loy- 
 alty with copious brimmers. He even sang a verse 
 of " The King shall enjoy his own again," in 
 which Phoebe, half sobbing, and Dame Jellycot, 
 screaming against time and tune, were contented 
 to lend their aid, to cover Mistress Alice's silence. 
 At length the jovial knight betook himself to 
 his rest, on the keeper's straw pallet, in a recess 
 adjoining to the kitchen, and, unaffected by his 
 change of dwelling, slept fast and deep. Alice 
 
 had less quiet rest in old Goody Jellycot's wicker 
 
 11
 
 124 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 couch, in the inner apartment ; while the dame 
 and Phoebe slept on a mattress, stuffed with dry 
 leaves, in the same chamber, soundly as those 
 whose daily toil gains their daily bread, and whom 
 morning calls up only to renew the toils of yes, 
 terday. 
 
 f
 
 WOODSTOCK. 125 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 My tongue pads slowly under this new language. 
 And starts and stumbles at these uncouth phrases- 
 They may be great in worth and weight, but hang 
 Upon the native glibness of my language 
 Like Saul's plate-armour on the shepherd boy. 
 Encumbering and not arming him. 
 
 3. B. 
 
 As MarkharaEverard pursued his way towards 
 the Lodge, through one of the long sweeping 
 glades which traversed the forest, varying in 
 breadth, till the trees were now so close that the 
 boughs made darkness over their heads, then re- 
 ceding farther to let in glimpses of the moon, 
 and anon opening yet wider into little meadows, 
 or savannahs, on which the moon-beams lay in 
 silvery silence ; as he thus proceeded on his lone- 
 ly course, the various effects produced by that 
 delicious light on the oaks, whose dark leaves, 
 gnarled branches, and massive trunks it gilded, 
 more or less partially, might have drawn the at- 
 tention of a poet or a painter.
 
 126 AVOOD STOCK. 
 
 But if Everard thought of anything saving the 
 painful scene in which he had just played his 
 part, and of which the result seemed the destruc- 
 tion of all his hopes, it was of the necessary guard 
 to be observed in his night-walk. The times 
 w^ere dangerous and unsettled ; the roads full of 
 disbanded soldiers, and especially of royalists, 
 who made their political opinions a pretext for 
 disturbing the country with marauding parties 
 and robberies. Deer-stealers also, who are ever 
 a desperate banditti, had of late infested Wood- 
 stock Chase. In short, the dangers of the place 
 and period were such, that Markham Everard 
 wore his loaded pistols at his belt, and carried 
 his drawn sword under his arm, that he might be 
 prepared for whatever peril should cross his path. 
 
 He heard the bells of Woodstock Church ring 
 curfew, just as he was crossing one of the little 
 meadows we have described, and they ceased as 
 he entered an overshadowed and twilight part of 
 the path beyond. It was there that he heard 
 some one whistling ; and, as the sound became 
 clearer, it was plain the person was advancing 
 towards him. This could hardly be a friend ; 
 for the party to which lie belonged rejected, ge-
 
 WOODSTOCK. IST 
 
 nerally speaking, all music, unless psalmody. 
 ** If a man is merry, let him sing psalms," was 
 a text which they were pleased to interpret as li- 
 terally as they did some others ; yet it was too 
 continued a sound to be a signal amongst night- 
 walkers, and too light and cheerful to argue any 
 purpose of concealment on the part of the travel- 
 ler, who presently exchanged his whistling for 
 singing, and trolled forth the following stanza to 
 a jolly tune; with which the old cavaliers were 
 wont to wake the night-owl : 
 
 Hey for cavaliers ! Ho for cavaliers ! 
 Pray for cavaliers ! 
 Rub a dub — rub a dub ! 
 Have at old Beelzebub — 
 Oliver smokes for fear. 
 
 « I should know that voice," said Everard, 
 uncocking the pistol which he had drawn from 
 his belt, but continuing to hold it in his hand. 
 Then came another fragment : 
 
 Hash them — slash them — 
 All to pieces dash them. 
 
 " So ho !" cried Markham, " who goes there, 
 and for whom ?" 
 " For Church and King," answered a voice,
 
 128 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 which presently added, " No, d — n me— I mean 
 a.gamst Church and King, and for the people 
 that are uppermost— I forget which they are." 
 " Roger Wildrake, as I guess ?" said Everard. 
 '* The same — Gentleman of Squattlesea-mere, 
 in the moist county of Lincoln." 
 
 " Wildrake !" said Markham — " Wildgoose 
 you should be called. You have been moistening 
 your own throat to some purpose, and using it to 
 gabble tunes very suiting to the times, to be 
 sure !" 
 
 " Faith, the tune's a pretty tune enough, 
 Mark, only out of fashion a little — the more's the 
 pity." 
 
 " What could I expect," said Everard, " but 
 to meet some ranting, drunken cavalier, as des- 
 perate and dangerous as night and sack usually 
 make them ? What if I had rewarded your me- 
 lody by a ball in the gullet ?" 
 
 " Why, there would have been a piper paid 
 — that's all," said Wildrake. — " But wherefore 
 come you this way now ? — I was about to seek 
 you at the hut." 
 
 " I have been obliged to leave it — I will tell 
 you the cause hereafter," replied Markham.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 129 
 
 " What ! the old play-hunting cavalier was 
 cross, or Chloe was unkind ?" 
 
 " Jest not, Wildrake — it is all over with me," 
 said Everard. 
 
 " The devil it is," exclaimed Wildrake, " and 
 you take it thus quietly ! — Zounds ! let us back 
 together — I'll plead your cause for you — I know 
 how to tickle up an old knight and a pretty 
 maiden — Let me alone for putting you rectus in 
 curia^ you canting rogue. — D — n me. Sir Henry 
 Lee, says I, your nephew is a piece of a Puritan 
 — it won''t deny — but FU uphold him a gentleman 
 and a pretty fellow for all that. — Madam, says I, 
 you may think your cousin looks like a psalm- 
 singing weaver, in that bare felt, and with that 
 rascally brown cloak ; that band, which looks like 
 a baby''s clout, and those loose boots, which have 
 a whole calf-skin in each of them, — but let him 
 wear on the one side of his head a castor, with a 
 plume befitting his quality ; give him a good To- 
 ledo by his side, with a broidered belt and an 
 inlaid hilt, instead of the ton of iron contained in 
 that basket-hiked, black Andrew Ferrara ; put 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 ISO WOODSTOCK. 
 
 a few smart words in his mouth — and, blood and 
 wounds ! madam, says I ^" 
 
 " Prithee, truce with this nonsense,Wildrake," 
 said Everard, " and tell me if you are sober 
 enough to hear a few words of sober reason ?'* 
 
 *' Pshaw ! man, I did but crack a brace of 
 quarts with yonder puritanic, round-headed sol- 
 diers, up yonder at the town ; and rat me but I 
 passed myself for the best man of the party; 
 twanged my nose, and turned up my eyes, as I 
 took my can — Pah ! the very wine tasted of hy- 
 pocrisy. I think the rogue corporal smoked 
 something at last — as for the common fellows, 
 never stir, but they asked me to say grace over 
 another quart." 
 
 " This is just what I wished to speak with you 
 about, Wildrake," said Markham — " You hold 
 me, I am sure, for your friend ?"" 
 
 " True as steel. — Chums at College and at 
 Lincoln's-Inn — we have been Nisus and Eurya- 
 I us, Theseus and Perithous, Orestes and Pylades ; 
 and, to sum up the whole with a puritanic touch, 
 David and Jonathan, all in one breath. Not even 
 politics, the wedge that rends families and friend-
 
 woonsTOf'K. l;»l 
 
 ships asunder, as iron rives oak, have been able to 
 split us." 
 
 " True,"" answered Markham ; " and when you 
 followed the King to Nottingham, and I enrolled 
 under Essex, we swore, at our parting, that 
 whichever side was victorious, he of us who ad- 
 hered to it, should protect his less fortunate com- 
 rade." 
 
 *' Surely, man, surely ; and have you not pro- 
 tected me accordingly ? Did you not save nie 
 from hanging ? and am I not indebted to vou 
 for the bread I eat ?" 
 
 " I have but done that which, had the times 
 been otherwise, you, my dear Wildrake, would, 
 I am sure, have done for me. But, as I said, 
 that is just what I wished to speak to you about. 
 AVhy render the task of protecting you more diffi- 
 cult than it must necessarily be at any rate ? Why 
 thrust thyself into the company of soldiers, or 
 such-hke, where thou art sure to be warmed into 
 betraying thyself? Why come hollowing ami 
 whooping out cavalier ditties, like a drunken 
 trooper of Prince Rupert, or one of Wilmot''s 
 swaggering body-guards ?"'
 
 182 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Because I may have been both one and t'o- 
 ther in my day, for aught that you know," re- 
 phed Wildrake. " But, oddsfish ! is it necessary 
 I should always be reminding you, that our obli- 
 gation of mutual protection, our league of offen- 
 sive and defensive, as I may call it, was to be 
 carried into effect without reference to the politics 
 or religion of the party protected, or the least 
 obligation on him to conform to those of his 
 friend ?" 
 
 " True," said Everard ; " but with this most 
 necessary qualification, that the party should sub- 
 mit to such outward conformity to the times as 
 should make it more easy and safe for his friend 
 to be of service to him. Now, you are perpe- 
 tually breaking forth, to the hazard of your own 
 safety and my credit." 
 
 " I tell you, Mark, and I would tell your 
 namesake the apostle, that you are hard on me. 
 You have practised sobriety and hypocrisy from 
 your hanging sleeves till your Geneva cassock — 
 from cradle to this day, — and it is a thing of 
 nature to you ; and you are surprised that a 
 rough, rattling, honest fellow, accustomed to speak
 
 WOODSTOCK. 133 
 
 truth all his Hfe, and especially when he found 
 it at the bottom of a flask, cannot be so perfect 
 a prig as thyself. — Zooks ! there is no equality 
 betwixt us— A trained diver might as well, be- 
 cause he can retain his breath for ten minutes 
 witliout inconvenience, upbraid a poor devil for 
 being like to burst in twenty seconds — And, after 
 all, considering the guise is so new to me, I think 
 I bear myself indifi'erently well — try me !" 
 
 *' Are there any more news from Worcester 
 fight ?" asked Everard, in a tone so serious that 
 it imposed on his companion, who replied in his 
 genuine character — 
 
 " Worse ! — d — n me, worse an hundred times 
 than reported — totally broken. Noll hath cer- 
 tainly sold himself to the devil, and his lease will 
 have an end one day — that is all our present 
 comfort." 
 
 " What ! and would this be your answer to 
 the first red-coat who asked the question ?" said 
 Everard. " Methinks you would find a speedy 
 passport to the next corps de garde." 
 
 " Nay, nay," answered Wildrake, " I thought 
 you asked me in your own person. — Lack-a-
 
 134 M'OOBSTOCK. 
 
 day ! a great mercy — a glorifying mercy — a 
 crowning mercy — a vouchsafing — an uplifting— 
 I profess the malignants are scattered from Dan 
 to Beersheba — smitten, iiip and thigh, even un- 
 til the going down of the sun !" 
 
 " Hear you aught of Colonel Thornhaugh's 
 Avounds ?" 
 
 " He is dead," answered Wildrake, " that's 
 one comfort — the round-headed rascal ! — Nay, 
 hold ! it was but a trip of the tongue — I meant, 
 the sweet godly youth."" 
 
 " And hear you aught of the young man. 
 King of Scotland, as they call him ?" said Eve- 
 rard. 
 
 *' Nothing, but that he is hunted like a part- 
 ridge on the mountains. May God deliver him, 
 and confound his enemies ! — Zoons, Mark Eve- 
 rard, I can fool it no longer. Do you not remem- 
 ber, that at the LincolnVInn gambols — though 
 you did not mingle much in them I think — I 
 used always to play as well as any of them, when 
 it came to the action, but they could never get 
 me to rehearse conformably. It's the same at 
 this dav. I hear vour voice, and I answer to it
 
 WOODSTOCK. 135 
 
 in the true tone of my heart ; but when I am in 
 the company of your snuffling friends, you have 
 seen me act my part indifferent well." 
 
 " But indifferent, indeed," replied Everard ; 
 " however, there is little call on you to do aught, 
 save to be modest and silent. Speak little, and 
 lay aside, if you can, your big oaths and swag- 
 gering looks — set your hat even on your brows." 
 
 *' Ay, that is the curse ! I have been always 
 noted for the jaunty manner in which I wear my 
 castor — Hard when a man's merits become his 
 enemies." ' 
 
 " You must remember you are my clerk." 
 
 " Secretary," answered Wildrake ; " let it be 
 secretary, if you love me." 
 
 " It must be clerk, and nothing else — plain 
 clerk — and remember to be civil and obedient," 
 replied Everard. 
 
 " But you should not lay on your commands 
 with so much ostentatious superiority, Master 
 Markham Everard. Remember I am your senior 
 of three years standing. Confound me, if I know 
 how to take it !" 
 
 " Was ever such a flmtastic wronghead ? —
 
 136 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 For my sake, if not for thine own, bend thy 
 freakish folly to listen to reason. Think that I 
 have incurred both risk and shame on thy ac- 
 count.'" 
 
 " Nay, thou art a right good fellow, Mark,"' 
 replied the cavalier, " and for thy sake I will do 
 much — but remember to cough, and cry hem ! 
 when thou seest me like to break bounds — And 
 now tell me whither we are bound for the night ?" 
 
 " To Woodstock Lodge, to look after my un- 
 cle"'s property," answered Markham Everard : " I 
 am informed that soldiers have taken possession 
 — Yet how could that be, if thou foundest the 
 party drinking in Woodstock ?" 
 
 " There was a kind of commissary or steward, 
 or some such rogue, had gone down to the Lodge," 
 replied Wildrake ; " I had a peep at him." 
 
 " Indeed ?" replied Everard. 
 
 " Ay, verily, to speak your own language. 
 Why, as I passed through the park in quest of 
 you, scarce half an hour since, I saw a light in 
 the Lodge — Step this way, you will see it your- 
 self."
 
 WOODSTOCK. , 137 
 
 " In the north-west angle ?— It is from a win- 
 dow in what they call Victor Lee's apartment." 
 
 " Well," resumed Wildrake, " I had been 
 loner one of Lundsford's lads, and well used to 
 patrolling duty — So, rat me, says I, if I leave a 
 light in my rear, without knowing what it means. 
 Besides, Mark, thou hadst said so much to mc 
 of thy pretty cousin, I thought I might as well 
 have a peep, if I could." 
 
 " Thoughtless, thoughtless, incorrigible young 
 man — to what dangers do you expose yourself 
 and your friends, in mere wantonness ! — But go 
 on !" 
 
 " By this fair moonshine, I believe thou art 
 jealous, Mark Everard !" replied his gay compa- 
 nion ; " there is no occasion ; for, in any case, I, 
 who was to see the lady, was steeled by honour 
 against the charms of my friend's Chloe — Then 
 the lady was not to see me, so could make no 
 comparisons to thy disadvantage, thou knowest — 
 Lastly, as it fell out, neither of us saw the other 
 at all." 
 
 " Of that I am well aware. Mrs Alice left the 
 Lodge long before sunset, and never returned.
 
 Il38 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 What didst thou see, to introduce with such pre_ 
 face ?" 
 
 " Nay, no great matter," replied Wildrake ; 
 " only getting upon a sort of buttress, (for I can 
 chmb like any cat that ever mewed in any gut- 
 ter,) and holding on by the vines and creepers 
 which grew around, I obtained a station where I 
 could see into the inside of that same parlour 
 thou spokest of just now." 
 
 " And what saw'st thou there ?" once more de- 
 manded Everard. 
 
 " Nay, no great matter, as I said before," re- 
 plied the cavalier ; " for in these times it is no 
 new thing to see churls carousing in royal or 
 noble chambers. I saw two rascallions engaged 
 in emptying a solemn stoup of strong waters, and 
 dispatching a huge venison pasty, which, for 
 their convenience, they had placed on a lady's 
 working-table — One of them was trying an air on 
 a lute." 
 
 " The profane villains !" exclaimed Everard, 
 " it was Alice's." 
 
 " Well said, comrade — I am glad your phlegm 
 can be moved. I did but throw in these incidents
 
 WOODSTOCK. l,'3i) 
 
 of the lute and the table to try if it was possible 
 to get a spark of human spirit out of you, be- 
 sanctified as you are." 
 
 " What like were the men ?" said young Eve- 
 rard. 
 
 " The one a slouch-hatted, long-cloaked, sour- 
 faced fanatic, like the rest of you, whom I took 
 to be the steward or commissary I heard spoken 
 of in the town ; the other was a short sturdy fel- 
 low, with a wood-knife at his girdle, and a long 
 quarter-staff lying beside him — a black-haired 
 knave, with white teeth and a merry counte- 
 nance — one of the under-rangers or bow-bearers 
 of these walks, I fancy." 
 
 " They must have been Desborough''s favou- 
 rite, trusty Tomkins,"" said Everard, " and Joce- 
 line Joliffe, the keeper. Tomkins is Desborougirs 
 right hand — an Independent, and hath pourings 
 forth, as he calls them. Some think that his gifts 
 have the better of his grace. 1 have heard of his 
 abusing opportunities."" 
 
 " They were improving them when I saw 
 them," replied Wildrakc, " and made the bottle 
 smoke for it — when, as the devil would liavc
 
 140 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 it, a stone, which had been dislodged from the 
 crumbling buttress, gave way under my weight. 
 A clumsy fellow like thee would have been so 
 long thinking what was to be done, that he 
 must needs have followed it before he could 
 make up his mind ; but I,- Mark, I hopped like 
 a squirrel to an ivy twig, and stood fast — was 
 well nigh shot though, for the noise alarmed 
 them both. They looked to the oriel, and saw me 
 on the outside ; the fanatic fellow took out a pis- 
 tol — as they have always such texts in readiness, 
 hanging beside the little clasped Bible, thou 
 know'st — the keeper seized his hunting-pole — I 
 treated them both to a roar and a grin — thou 
 must know I can grimace like a baboon — I learn- 
 ed the trick from a French player, who could twist 
 his jaws into a pair of nut-crackers — and there- 
 withal I dropped myself sweetly on the grass, and 
 ran off so trippingly, keeping the dark side of the 
 wall as long as I could, that I am well nigh per- 
 suaded they thought I was their kinsman, the 
 devil, come among them uncalled. They were 
 abominably startled." 
 
 " Thou art most fearfully rash, Wildrakc,"
 
 AVOODSTOCK. 14:1 
 
 said his companion ; " we are now bound for the 
 house — what if they should remember thee ?" 
 
 " Why, it is no treason, is it ? No one has paid 
 for peeping since Tom oi Coventry's days ; and 
 if he came in for a reckoning, behke it was for 
 a better treat than mine. But trust me, they will 
 no more know me, than a man who had only 
 seen your friend Noll at a conventicle of saints, 
 would know the same Oliver on horseback, and 
 charging with his lobster-tailed squadron ; or the 
 same Noll cracking a jest and a bottle with 
 wicked Waller the poet." 
 
 " Hush ! not a word of Oliver, as thou dost 
 value thyself and me. It is ill jesting with the 
 rock you may split on. — But here is the gate — 
 we will disturb these honest gentlemen's recrea- 
 tions." 
 
 As he spoke, he applied the large and ponder- 
 ous knocker to the hall-door. 
 
 " Rat-tat-tat-too !" said Wildrake ; " there is 
 a fine alarm to you cuckolds and roundheads," 
 He then half-mimicked, half-sung the march so 
 called : — 
 
 14
 
 14f2 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Cnckokis, corae dig, ciickolJs, come dig ; 
 Round about cuckolds, come dance to my jig !" 
 
 " By Heaven ! this passes Midsummer frenzv," 
 said Everard, turning angrily to him. 
 
 " Not a bit, not a bit," replied Wildrake; " it 
 is but a slight expectoration, just like what one 
 makes before beginning a long speech. I will be 
 grave for an hour together, now I have got that 
 point of war out of my head." 
 
 As he spoke, steps were heard in the hall, and 
 the wicket of the great door was partly opened, 
 but secured with a chain in case of accidents. 
 The visage of Tomkins, and that of Joceline 
 beneath it, appeared at the chink, illuminated by 
 the lamp which the latter held in his hand, and 
 Tomkins demanded the meaning of this alarm. 
 
 *' I demand instant admittance !" said Eve- 
 rard. " JolifFe, you know me well .?" 
 
 ** I do, sir,"" replied Joceline, " and could ad- 
 mit you with all my heart ; but, alas ! sir, you 
 see I am not key-keeper — Here is the gentleman 
 whose warrant I must walk by — The Lord help 
 me, seeing times are such as they be !" 
 
 19 

 
 WOODSTOCK. 143 
 
 '' And when that gentleman, who I think may 
 be Master Desborough's valet "" 
 
 " His honour''s unworthy secretary, an it please 
 you," interposed Tomkins; while Wildrake whis- 
 pered in Evcrard's ear, " I will be no longer se- 
 cretary. Mark, thou wert quite right — the clerk 
 must be the more gentlemanly calling." 
 
 " And if you are Master Desborough's secreta- 
 ry, I presume you know me and my condition well 
 enough," said Everard, addressing the Independ- 
 ent, " not to hesitate to admit me and my attend- 
 ant to a night's quarters in the Lodge ?" 
 
 " Surely not, surely not," said the Independ- 
 ent — " that is, if your worship thinks you would 
 be better accommodated here than up at the 
 house of entertainment in the town, which men 
 unprofitably call Saint George's Inn. There is 
 but confined accommodation here, your honour 
 — and we have been frayed out of our lives al- 
 ready by the visitation of Satan—albeit his fiery 
 dart is now quenched." 
 
 " This may be all well in its place, Sir Secre- 
 tary," said Everard ; " and you may find a cor- 
 ner for it when you are next tempted to play the
 
 144 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 preaclicr. But I will take it for no apology for 
 keeping me here in the cold harvest wind ; and if 
 not presently received, and suitably too, I will 
 report you to your master for insolence in vour 
 office." 
 
 The secretary of Desborough did not dare 
 offer farther opposition ; for it was well known 
 that Desborough himself only held his conse- 
 quence as a kinsman of Cromwell, and the Lord 
 General, who was well nigh paramount already, 
 was known to be strongly favourable both to the 
 elder and younger Everard. It is true, they were 
 Presbyterians and he an Independent ; and that, 
 though sharing those feehngs of correct morality 
 and more devoted religious feeling, by which, 
 with few exceptions, the Parliamentai'ian party 
 were distinguished, the Everards were not dispo- 
 sed to carry these attributes to the extreme of en- 
 thusiasm, practised by so many others at the time. 
 Yet it was well known that whatever might be 
 Cromwell's own religious creed, he was not uni- 
 formly bounded by it in the choice of his favour- 
 ites, but extended his countenance to those who 
 could serve him, even although, according to the
 
 WOODSTOCK. 14.5 
 
 phrase of the time, they came out of the darkness 
 of Egypt. The character of the elder Everard 
 stood very high for wisdom and sagacity; besides, 
 being of a good family and competent fortune, 
 his adherence would lend a dignity to any side 
 he might espouse. Then his son had been a dis- 
 tinguished and successful soldier, remarkable for 
 the discipline he maintained among his men, the 
 bravery which he showed in the time of action, 
 and the humanity with which he was always rea- 
 dy to qualify the consequences of victory. Such 
 men were not to be neglected, when many signs 
 combined to show that the parties in the state, 
 who had successfully accomplished the deposition 
 and death of the king, were speedily to quarrel 
 among themselves about the division of the spoils. 
 The two Everards were therefore much courted 
 by Cromwell, and their influence with him sup- 
 posed to be so great, that trusty Mr Secretary 
 Tomkins cared not to expose himself to risk, by 
 contending with Colonel Everard for such a trifle 
 as a night's lodging. 
 
 Joceline was active on his side — more lights 
 were obtained — more wood thrown on the fire— 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 140 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and tlie two newly-an'ived strangers were intro- 
 duced into Victor Lee's parlour, as it was called, 
 from the picture over the chimney-piece, which 
 we have already described. It was several mi- 
 nutes ere Colonel Everard could recover his ge- 
 neral stoicism of deportment, so strongly he was 
 impressed by finding himself in the apartment, 
 under whose roof he had passed so many of the 
 happiest hours of his life. There was the cabi- 
 net, which he had seen opened with such feelings 
 of delight when Sir Henry Lee deigned to give 
 him instructions in fishing, and to exhibit hooks 
 and lines, together with all the materials for ma- 
 king the artificial fly, then little known. There 
 hung the ancient family picture, which, from 
 some odd mysterious expressions of his uncle, 
 relating to it, had become to his boyhood, nay, 
 his early youth, a subject of curiosity and of fear. 
 He remembered how, when left alone in the 
 apartment, the searching eye of the old warrior 
 seemed always bent upon his, in whatever part 
 of the room he placed himself, and how his child- 
 ish imagination was perturbed at a phenomenoUj 
 for which he could not account.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 147 
 
 With tliese came a thousand more dear and 
 warmer recollections of his early attachment to 
 his pretty cousin Alice, when he aided at her 
 lessons, brought water for her flowers, or accom- 
 panied her while she sung ; and he remembered 
 that while her father looked at them with a good- 
 humoured and careless smile, he had once heard 
 him mutter, " And if it should turn out so — why 
 it might be best for both," and the theories of 
 happiness he had reared on these words. All 
 these visions had been dispelled by the trumpet 
 of war, which called Sir Henry Lee and himself 
 to opposite sides; and the transactions of this very 
 day had shown, that even Everard's success as a 
 soldier and a statesman seemed absolutely to pro- 
 hibit the chance of their being revived. 
 
 He was waked out of this unpleasing reverie 
 by the approach of Joceline, who, being possibly 
 a seasoned toper, had made the additional ar- 
 rangements with more expedition and accuracy 
 than could have been expected from a person 
 engaged as he had been since night-fall. 
 
 He now wished to know the Colonel's directions 
 for the nig;ht.
 
 148 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Would he eat anything ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Did his honour choose to accept Sir Henry 
 Lee's bed, which was ready prepared ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That of Mistress Ahce Lee should be pre- 
 pared for the Secretary."" 
 
 " On pain of thine ears — No," replied Everard. 
 
 " Where then was the worthy Secretary to be 
 quartered .''" 
 
 *' In the dog-kennel, if you list," replied Co- 
 lonel Everard; " but," added he, stepping to 
 the sleeping-apartment of Alice, which opened 
 from the parlour, locking it, and taking out the 
 key, " no one shall profane this chamber." 
 
 " Had his honour any other commands for the 
 
 night r 
 
 " None, save to clear the apartment of yonder 
 man. — My clerk will remain with me — I have 
 orders which must be written out. — Yet stay — 
 Thou gavest my letter this morning to Mistress 
 Alice ?" 
 
 " I did."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 149 
 
 " Tell me, good Joceline, what she said when 
 she received it ?" 
 
 " She seemed much concerned, sir ; and indeed 
 I think that she wept a little — but indeed she 
 seemed very much distressed." 
 
 " And what message did she send to me ?" 
 
 " None, may it please your honour— She be- 
 gan to say, ' Tell my cousin Everard that I will 
 communicate my uncle's kind purpose to my fa- 
 ther, if I can get fitting opportunity — ^but that I 
 greatly fear'' — and there checked herself, as it 
 were, and said, ' I will write to my cousin ; and 
 as it may be late ere I have an opportunity of 
 speaking with my father, do thou come for my 
 answer after service.' — So I went to church my- 
 self, to while away the time ; but when I return- 
 ed to the chase, I found this man had summoned 
 my master to surrender, and right or wrong I 
 must put him in possession of the Lodge. I 
 would fain have given your honour a hint that 
 the old knight and my young mistress were hke 
 to take you on the form, but I could not mend 
 the matter." 
 
 " Thou hast done well, good felloWj and I will
 
 150 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 remember thee.— And now,"^my masters/' he said, 
 advancing to the brace of clerks or secretaries, 
 who had in the meanwhile sate quietly down be- 
 side the stone-bottle, and made up acquaintance 
 over a glass of its contents—" Let me remind 
 you,"" said the Colonel, " that the night wears 
 late/' 
 
 " There is something cries tinkle, tinkle, in the 
 bottle yet," said Wildrake in reply. 
 
 " Hem ! hem ! hem V coughed the Colonel of 
 the parliamentarian service ; and if his lips did 
 not curse his companion's imprudence, I will not 
 answer for what arose in his heart. — " Well !"" 
 he said, observing that Wildrake had filled his 
 own glass and Tomkins's, " take that parting 
 glass and begone." 
 
 " Would you not be pleased to hear first," 
 said Wildrake, " how this honest gentleman saw 
 the devil to-night look through a pane of yonder 
 window, and how he thinks he had a mighty 
 strong resemblance to your worship's humble 
 slave and varlet scribbler ? Would you but hear 
 this, sir, and just sip a glass of this very recom- 
 mendable strong waters?"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 151 
 
 " I will drink none, sir," said Colonel Everard 
 sternly ; *' and I have to tell ?/ow, that you have 
 drunken a glass too much already. — Mr Tomp- 
 kins, sir, I wish you good night." 
 
 " A word in season at parting," said Tomp- 
 kins, standing up behind the long leathern back 
 of a chair, hemming and snuffling as if preparing 
 for an exhortation. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," replied Markham Everard 
 sternly ; " you are not now sufficiently yourself 
 to guide the devotion of others." 
 
 " Woe be to them that reject !" said the Secre- 
 tary of the Commissioners, stalking out of the 
 room — the rest was lost in shutting the door, or 
 suppressed for fear of offence. 
 
 " And now, fool Wildrake,bcgone to thy bed — 
 yonder it lies," pointing to the knight's apartment. 
 
 ** What, thou hast secured the lady's for thy- 
 self ."^ I saw thee put the key in thy pocket." 
 
 " I would not — indeed I could not sleep in 
 that apartment — I can sleep nowhere — but I will 
 watch in this armed chair. — I have made him place 
 wood for repairing the fire. — Good now, go to bed 
 thyself, and sleep off thy hquor,"
 
 152 AyOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Liquor ! — I laugh thee to scorn, Mark — • 
 thou art a milksop, and the son of a milksop, and 
 know'st not what a good fellow can do in the way 
 of crushing an honest cup." 
 
 *' The whole vices of his faction are in this 
 poor fellow individually," said the Colonel to 
 himself, eying his protege askance, as the other 
 retreated into the bed-room with no very steady 
 pace — " He is reckless, intemperate, dissolute ; 
 and if I cannot get him safely shipped for France, 
 he will certainly be both his own ruin and mine. — 
 Yet, withal, he is kind, brave, and generous, and 
 would have kept the faith with me which he now 
 expects from me ; and in what consists the merit 
 of our truth, if we observe not our pHghted word 
 when we have promised to our hurt ? I will take 
 the liberty, however, to secure myself against far- 
 ther interruption on his part." 
 
 So saying, he locked the door of communica- 
 tion betwixt the sleeping-room, to which the cava- 
 lier had retreated, and the parlour ; — and then, 
 after pacing the floor thoughtfully, returned to 
 his seat, trimmed the lamp, and drew out a num- 
 ber of letters. — '"■ I will read these over once
 
 WOODSTOCK. 153 
 
 inore," he said, " that, if possible, the thought of 
 pubhc affairs may expel this keen sense of per- 
 sonal sorrow. Gracious Providence, where is 
 this to end ? We have sacrificed the peace of our 
 families, the warmest wishes of our young hearts, 
 to right the country in which we were born, and 
 to free her from oppression ; yet it appears, that 
 every step we have made towards liberty, has but 
 brought us in view of new and more terrific perils, 
 as he who travels in a mountainous region, is, by 
 every step which elevates him highest, placed in 
 a situation of more imminent hazard." 
 
 He read long and attentively, various tedious 
 and embarrassed letters, in which the writers, 
 placing before him the glory of God, and the 
 freedom and liberties of England, as their su- 
 preme ends, could not, by all the ambagitory ex- 
 pressions they made use of, prevent the shrewd 
 eye of Markham Everard from seeing, that self- 
 interest and views of ambition were the piincipal 
 moving springs at the boltom of their plots.
 
 154 
 
 WOOJJSTOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Sleep steals on us even like his brother Death— 
 
 We know not when it comes — we know it must come>— 
 
 We may affect to scorn and to contemn it. 
 
 For 'tis the highest pride of human misery 
 
 To say it knows not of an opiate : 
 
 Yet the reft parent, the despairing lover, 
 
 Even the poor wretch who waits for execution, 
 
 Feels this oblivion, against which he thought 
 
 His woes had armed his senses, steal upon him, 
 
 And through the fenceless citadel — the body. 
 
 Surprise that haughty garrison— the mind. 
 
 Hebbeht. 
 
 Colonel Evehard experienced the truth con- 
 tained in the verses of the quaint old bard whom 
 we have quoted above. Amid private grief, and 
 anxiety for a country long a prey to civil war, 
 and not likely to fall soon under any fixed or well- 
 established form of government, E verard and his 
 father had, like many others, turned their eyes to 
 General Cromwell, as the person whose valour 
 had made him the darling of the army, whose 
 strong sagacity had hitherto predominated over 
 the high talents by which he had been assailed
 
 WOODSTOCK. 155 
 
 in Parliament, as well as over his enemies in the 
 field, and who was alone in the situation to settle 
 the nation, as the phrase then went ; or, in other 
 words, to dictate the mode of government. The 
 father and son were both reputed to stand high 
 in the General's favour. But Markham Eve- 
 rard was conscious of some particulars, which in- 
 duced him to doubt whether Cromwell actually, 
 and at heart, bore either to his father or to him- 
 self that good-will which was generally believed. 
 He knew him for a profound politician, who 
 could veil for any length of time his real senti- 
 ments of men and things, until they could be dis- 
 played without prejudice to his interest. And he 
 moreover knew that the General was not likely 
 to forget the opposition which the Presbyterian 
 party had offered to what Oliver called the Great 
 Matter — the trial, namely, and execution of the 
 King. In this opposition, his father and he had 
 anxiously concurred, nor had the arguments, nor 
 even the half-expressed threats of Cromwell, in- 
 duced them to flinch from that course, far less 
 to permit their names to be introduced into the 
 commission nominated to sit in judgment on that 
 memorable occasion.
 
 156 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 This hesitation had occasioned some tempo- 
 rary coldness between the General and the Eve- 
 rards, father and son. But as the latter remained 
 in the army, and bore arms under Cromwell both 
 in Scotland, and finally at Worcester, his servi- 
 ces very frequently called forth the approbation 
 of his commander. After the fight of Worcester, 
 in particular, he was among the number of those 
 officers on whom Oliver, rather considering the 
 actual and practical extent of his own power, than 
 the name under which he exercised it, was with 
 difficulty withheld from imposing the dignity of 
 Knights Bannerets at his own will and pleasure. 
 It therefore seemed, that all recollection of for- 
 mer disagreement was obliterated, and that the 
 Everards had regained their former stronghold 
 in the General's affections. There were, indeed, 
 several who doubted this, and who endeavoured 
 to bring over this distinguished young officer to 
 some other of the parties which divided the in- 
 fant Commonwealth. But to these proposals he 
 turned a deaf ear. Enough of blood, he said, had 
 been spilled — it was time that the nation should 
 have repose under a firmly-cstablishcd govern-
 
 wooDSTonc, 157 
 
 ment, of strength sufficient to protect property, 
 and of lenity enough to encourage the return of 
 tranquiUity. This, he thought, could only be 
 accomplished by means of Cromwell, and the 
 greater part of England was of the same opinion. 
 It was true, that, in thus submitting to the do- 
 mination of a successful soldier, those who did so, 
 forgot the principles upon which they had drawn 
 the sword agaipst the late King. But in revolu- 
 tions, stern and high principles are often obliged to 
 give way to the current of existing circumstances; 
 and in many a case, where wars have been waged 
 for points of metaphysical right, they have been 
 at last gladly terminated, upon the mere hope of 
 obtaining general tranquillity, as, after many a 
 long siege, a garrison is often glad to submit on 
 mere security for life and limb. 
 
 Colonel Everard, therefore, felt that the sup- 
 port which he afforded Cromwell, was only under 
 the idea, that, amid a choice of evils, the least 
 was likely to ensue from a man of the General's 
 wisdom and valour being placed at the head of 
 the state ; and he was sensible, that Oliver him- 
 self was likely to consider his attachment as hike-
 
 158 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 warm and imperfect, and measure his gratitude 
 for it upon the same limited scale. 
 
 In the meanwhile, however, circumstances 
 compelled him to make trial of the General's 
 friendship. The sequestration of Woodstock, and 
 the warrant to the commissioners to dispose of it 
 as national property, had been long granted, but 
 the interest of the elder Everard had for weeks 
 and months deferred its execution. The hour 
 was now approaching when the blow could be no 
 longer parried, especially as Sir Henry Lee, on 
 his side, resisted every proposal of submitting 
 himself to the existing government, and was 
 therefore, now that his hour of grace was passed, 
 enrolled in the list of stubborn and irreclaimable 
 malignants, with whom the Council of State was 
 determined no longer to keep terms. The only 
 mode of protecting the old knight and his daugh- 
 ter, was to interest, if possible, the General himself 
 in the matter; and revolving all the circumstances 
 connected with their intercourse, Colonel Everard 
 felt that a request, which would so immediately 
 interfere with the interests of Desborough, the 
 brother-in-law of Cromwell, and one of the pre- 
 
 11
 
 WOODSTOCK. 159 
 
 sent Commissioners, was putting to a very severe 
 trial the friendship of the latter. Yet no alterna- 
 tive remained. 
 
 With this view, and agreeably to a request 
 from Cromwell, who at parting had been very 
 urgent to have his written opinion upon public 
 affairs, Colonel Everard passed the earlier part 
 of the night in arranging his ideas upon the state 
 of the Commonwealth, in a plan which he thought 
 likely to be acceptable to Cromwell, as it exhorted 
 him, under the aid of Providence, to become the 
 saviour of the state, by convoking a free Parlia- 
 ment, and by their aid placing himself at the head 
 of some form of liberal and established govern- 
 ment, which might supersede the estate of anar- 
 chy, in which the nation was otherwise likely to be 
 merged. Taking a general view of the totally bro- 
 ken condition of the Royalists, and of the various 
 factions which now convulsed the state, he show- 
 ed how this might be done without bloodshed or 
 violence. From this topic he descended to the 
 propriety of keeping up the becoming state of the 
 Executive Government, in whose hands soever it 
 should be lodged, and thus showed Cromwell, as 
 the future Stadlholder, or Consul, or Lieutenant-
 
 1()0 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Ocneral of Great Britain and Ireland, a prospect 
 of demesne and residencies becoming his dignity. 
 Then lie naturally passed to the disparking and 
 destroying of the royal residences of England, 
 made a woful picture of the demolition which im- 
 pended over Woodstock, and interceded for the 
 preservation of that beautiful Seat, as a matter of 
 personal favour, in which he found himself deep- 
 ly interested. 
 
 Colonel Everard, when he had finished his let- 
 ter, did not find himself greatly risen in his own 
 opinion. In the course of his political conduct, 
 he had till this hour avoided mixing up personal 
 motives with his public grounds of action, and 
 yet he now felt himself making such a composi- 
 tion. But he comforted himself, or at least silen- 
 ced this unpleasing recollection, with the consider- 
 ation, that the weal of Britain, studied under the 
 aspect of the times, absolutely required that 
 Cromwell should be at the head of the govern- 
 ment ; and that the interest of Sir Henry Lee, or 
 rather his safety and his existence, no less empha- 
 tically demanded the preservation of Woodstock, 
 and his residence there. Was it a fault of his, that 
 
 14
 
 WOODSTOCK. ' IGl 
 
 tlie same road should lead to both these ends, or 
 that his private interest, and that of the country, 
 should happen to mix in the same letter ? He 
 hardened himself, therefore, to the act, made up 
 and addressed his packet to the Lord General, and 
 then sealed it with his seal of arms. This done, he 
 lay back in his chair ; and, in spite of his expec- 
 tations to the contrary, fell asleep in the course 
 of his reflections, anxious and harassing as they 
 were, and did not awaken until the cold grey light 
 of dawn was peeping through the eastern oriel. 
 
 He started at fii-st, rousing himself with the 
 sensation of one who awakes in a place unknown 
 to him ; but the localities instantly forced them- 
 selves on his recollection. The lamp burning 
 dimly in the socket, the wood-fire almost extin- 
 guished in its own white embers, the gloomy 
 picture over the chimney-piece, the sealed packet 
 on the table — all reminded him of the events of 
 yesterday, and his deliberations of the succeeding 
 night. '^ 
 
 " There is no help for it," he said ; " it must be 
 Cromwell or anarchy. And probably the sense, 
 that his title, as head of the Executive Govern- 
 
 VOL. I. I,
 
 1G2 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ment, is derived merely from popular consent, may 
 check the too natural proneness of power to ren- 
 der itself arbitrary. If he govern by Parhaments, 
 and with regard to the privileges of the subject, 
 wherefore not Oliver as well as Charles ? But I 
 must take measures for having this conveyed 
 safely to the hands of this future sovereign prince^ 
 It will be well to take the first word of influence 
 with him, since there must be many who will not 
 hesitate to recommend counsels more violent and 
 precipitate." , 
 
 He determined to intrust the important packet 
 to the charge of Wildrake, whose rashness was 
 never so distinguished, as when by any chance he 
 was left idle and unemployed ; besides, even if 
 his faith had not been otherwise unimpeachable, 
 the obligations which he owed to his friend Eve- 
 rard must have rendered it such. 
 
 These conclusions passed through Colonel Eve- 
 rard's mind, as, collecting the remains of wood in 
 the chimney, he gathered them into a hearty blaze, 
 to remove the uncomfortable feeling of chillness 
 which pervaded his limbs ; and by the time he 
 was a little move warm, again sunk into a slumber
 
 VV'OODSTOCK. 1^3 
 
 which was only dispelled by the beams of morning- 
 peeping into his apartment. 
 
 He arose, roused himself, walked up and down 
 the room, and looked from the large oriel win- 
 dows on the nearest objects, which were the un- 
 trimmed hedges and neglected walks of a certain 
 wilderness, as it is called in ancient treatises on 
 gardening, which, kept of yore well ordered, and 
 in all the pride of the topiary art, presented a 
 succession of yew trees cut into fantastic forms, 
 of close alleys, and of open walks, filling about 
 two or three acres of ground on that side of the 
 Lodge, and forming a boundary between its im- 
 mediate precincts and the open Park. Its enclo- 
 sure was now broken down in many places, and 
 the hinds with their fawns fed free and unstartled 
 up to the very windows of the sylvan palace. 
 
 This had been a favourite scene of Markham's 
 sports when a boy. He could still distinguish, 
 though now grown out of shape, the verdant 
 battlements of a Gothic castle, all created by the 
 gardener's shears, at which he was accustomed to 
 shoot his arrows, or^ stalking before it like the 
 Knight-errant of whom he read, was wont to
 
 164 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 blow his horn, and bid defiance to the supposed 
 giant or Paynim knight, by whom it was garri- 
 soned. He remembered how he used to train his 
 cousin, though several years younger than him- 
 self, to bear a part in these revels of his boyish 
 fancy, and to play the character of an elfin page, 
 or a fairy, or an enchanted princess. He re- 
 membered, too, many particulars of their later 
 acquaintance, from which he had been almost 
 necessarily led to the conclusion, that from an 
 early period their parents had entertained some 
 idea, that there might be a well-fitted match be- 
 twixt his fair cousin and himself. A thousand 
 visions formed in so bright a prospect had vanish- 
 ed along with it, but now returned like shadows, 
 to remind him of all he had lost — and for what ? 
 — " For the sake of England,"" his proud con- 
 sciousness replied, — " Of England, in danger of 
 becoming the prey at once of bigotry and tyran- 
 ny." And he strengthened himself with the re- 
 collection, " If I have sacrificed my private hap- 
 piness, it is that my country may enjoy liberty 
 of conscience, and personal freedom ; which, under
 
 WOODSTOCK. 165 
 
 a weak prince and usurping statesmen, she was 
 but too likely to have lost." 
 
 But the busy fiend in his breast would not be 
 repulsed by the bold answer. " Has thy resist- 
 ance," it demanded, " availed tiiy country, Mark- 
 ham Everard ? Lies not England, after so much 
 bloodshed, and so much misery, as low beneath 
 the sword of a fortunate soldier as formerly un- 
 der the sceptre of an encroaching prince? -Are 
 Parliament, or what remains of them, fitted to 
 contend with a leader, master of his soldiers' 
 hearts, as bold and subtle as he is impenetrable 
 in his designs ? This General, who holds the 
 army, and by that the fate of the nation in his 
 hand, will he lay down his power because philo- 
 sophy would pronounce it his duty to become a 
 subject ?" 
 
 He dared not answer that his knowledge of 
 Cromwell authorized him to expect any such 
 act of self-denial. Yet still he considered that 
 in times of such infinite difficulty, that must be 
 the best government, however little desirous in 
 itself, which should most speedily restore peace 
 io the land, and stop the wounds which the co^iu
 
 W6 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 tending parties were daily inflicting on each other. 
 He imagined that Cromwell was the only autho- 
 rity under which a steady government could be 
 formed, and therefore had attached himself to his 
 fortune, though not without considerable and re- 
 curring doubts, how far serving the views of this 
 impenetrable and mysterious General was con- 
 sistent with the principles under which he had 
 assumed arms. 
 
 While these things passed in his mind, Everard 
 looked upon the packet which lay on the table 
 addressed to the Lord General, and which he had 
 made up before sleep. He hesitated several times, 
 when he remembered its purport, and in what 
 degree he must stand committed with that person- 
 age, and bound to support his plans of aggran- 
 dizement, when once that communication was in 
 Oliver Groraweirs possession. 
 
 " Yet it must be so," he said at last, with a 
 deep sigh. " Among the contending parties, he 
 is the stronffest — the wisest and most moderate 
 — and ambitious though he be, perhaps not the 
 most dangerous. Some one must be trusted with 
 )X)wer to preserve and enforce general order, and
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 167 
 
 who can possess or wield such power like him 
 that is head of the victorious armies of England ? 
 Come what will in future, peace and the restora- 
 tion of law ought to be our first and most press- 
 ing object. This remnant of a Parliament cannot 
 keep their ground against the army, by mere ap- 
 peal to the sanction of opinion. If they design to 
 reduce the soldiery, it must be by actual warfare, 
 and the land has been too long steeped in blood. 
 But Cromwell may, and I trust will, make a mo- 
 derate accommodation with them, on grounds by 
 which peace may be preserved ; and it is to this 
 which we must look and trust for a settlement of 
 the kingdom, alas ! and for the chance of pro- 
 tecting my obstinate kinsman from the consequen- 
 ces of his honest though absurd pertinacity." 
 
 Silencing some internal feelings of doubt and 
 reluctance by such reasoning as this, Markham 
 Everard continued in his resolution to unite him- 
 self with Cromwell in the struggle which was 
 evidently approaching betwixt the civil and mili- 
 tary authorities ; not as the course which, if at 
 perfect liberty, he would have preferred adopting, 
 but as the best choice between two dangerous
 
 168 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 extremities to which the times had reduced him. 
 He could not help trembling, however, when he 
 recollected that his father, though hitherto the 
 admirer of Cromwell, as the implement by whom 
 60 many marvels had been wrought in England, 
 might not be disposed to unite with his interest 
 against that of the Long Parliament, of which 
 he had been, till partly laid aside by continued 
 indisposition, an active and leading member. 
 This doubt also he was obliged to swallow, or 
 strangle, as he might ; but consoling himself with 
 the ready aigument, that it was impossible his 
 father could see matters in another light than 
 that in which they occurred to himself.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 169 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Determined at length to dispatch his packet 
 to the General without delay, Colonel Everard 
 approached the door of the apartment, in which, 
 as was evident from the dead breathing within, the 
 prisoner Wildrake enjoyed a deep slumber, under 
 the influence of liquor at once and of fatigue. In 
 turning the key, the bolt, which was rather rusty, 
 made a resistance so noisy, as partly to attract 
 the sleeper's attention, though not to awake him. 
 Everard stood by his bed-side, as he heard him 
 mutter, " Is it morning already, jailor ? — Why, 
 you dog, an' you had but a cast of humanity in 
 you, you would qualify your vile news with a cup 
 of sack, — hanging is sorry work, my masters — 
 and sorrow's dry.'' 
 
 " Up, Wildrake — up, thou ill-omened dream- 
 er," said his friend, shaking him by the collar.
 
 170 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Hands off'!" answered the sleeper.—" I can 
 climb a ladder without help, I trow." — He then 
 sate up in the bed, and opening his eyes, stared 
 around him, and exclaimed, " Zounds ! Mark, is 
 it only thou ? I thought it was all over with me 
 — ^fetters were struck from my legs — rope drawn 
 round my gullet — irons knocked off my hands 
 — hempen cravat tucked on — all ready for a dance 
 in the open element upon slight footing.'' 
 
 " Truce with thy folly, Wildrake ; sure the 
 devil of drink, to whom thou hast, I think, sold 
 thyself " 
 
 " For a hogshead of sack," interrupted Wild- 
 rake; " the bargain was made in a cellar in the 
 vintry." 
 
 ** I am as mad as thou art, to trust anything 
 to thee," said Markhara ; " I scarce believe thou 
 hast thy senses yet." 
 
 " What should ail me?" said Wildrake — " I 
 trust I have not tasted liquor in my sleep, saving 
 that I dreamed of drinking small-beer with Old 
 Noll, of his own brewing. — But do not look so 
 glum, man— I am the same Roger Wildrake 
 that I ever was ; as wild as a mallard, but as true
 
 WOODSTOCK. 171 
 
 as a gamecock. I am thine own chum, man — 
 bound to thee by thy kind deeds — devinctns be- 
 nefido — there is Latin for it ; and where is the 
 thing thou wilt charge me with, that I will not, 
 or dare not execute, were it to pick the devirs 
 teeth with my rapier, after he had breakfasted 
 upon roundheads .'''" 
 
 *' You will drive me mad,"" said Everard.— 
 " When I am about to intrust all I have most 
 valuable on earth to your management, your con- 
 duct and language are those of a mere Bedlamite. 
 Last night I made allowance for thy drunken 
 fury ; but who can endure thy morning madness ? 
 — it is unsafe for thyself and me, Wildrake — it 
 is unkind — I might say ungrateful." 
 
 " Nay, do not say that, my friend," said the 
 cavalier, with some show of feeling ; " and do not 
 judge of me with a severity that cannot apply to 
 such as I am. We who have lost our all in these 
 sad jars, who are compelled to shift for our living, 
 not from day to day, but from meal to meal — we 
 whose only hiding-place is the jail, whose pro- 
 spect of final repose is the gallows, — what can'st 
 thou expect from us, but to bear such a lot with 
 
 15
 
 172 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 a light heart, since we should break down under 
 it with a heavy one ?" 
 
 This was spoken in a tone of feeling which 
 found a responding string in Everard''s bosom. 
 He took his friend's hand, and pressed it kindly. 
 
 " Nay, if I seemed harsh to thee, Wildrake, 
 I profess it was for thine own sake more than 
 mine. I know thou hast at the bottom of thy 
 levity, as deep a principle of honour and feeling 
 as ever governed a human heart. But thou art 
 thoughtless — thou art rash — and I protest to 
 thee, that wert thou to betray thyself in this mat- 
 ter in which I trust thee, the evil consequences 
 to myself would not afflict me more than the 
 thought of putting thee into such danger." 
 
 " Nay, if you take it on that tone, Mark," 
 said the cavalier, making an effort to laugh, evi- 
 dently that he might conceal a tendency to a dif- 
 ferent emotion, *' thou wilt make children of us 
 both — babes and sucklings, by the hilt of this 
 bilbo. — Come, trust me ; I can be cautious when 
 time requires it — no man ever saw me drink 
 when an alert was expected — and not one poor 
 pint of wine will I taste until I have managed.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 17^5 
 
 this matter for thee. Well, I am thy secretary — 
 clerk — I had forgot — and carry thy dispatches to 
 Cromwell, taking good heed not to be surprised 
 or choused out of my lump of loyalty, (striking 
 his finger on the packet,) and I am to deliver it 
 to the most loyal hands to which it is most hum- 
 bly addressed — Adzooks, Mark, think of it a 
 moment longer — Surely thou wilt not carry thy 
 perverseness so far, as to strike in with this 
 bloody-minded rebel.? — Bid me give him three 
 inches of my dudgeon-dagger, and I will do it 
 much more willingly than present him with thy 
 packet." 
 
 " Go to,'' replied Everard, " this is beyond 
 our bargain. If you will help me, it is well ; if not, 
 let me lose no time in debating with thee, since 
 1 think every moment an age till the packet is in 
 the GeneraPs possession. It is the only way left 
 me to obtain some protection, and a place of re- 
 fuge for my uncle and his daughter." 
 
 " That being the case," said the cavalier, " I 
 will not spare the spur. My nag up yonder at 
 the town will be ready for the road in a trice, 
 and thou niayst reckon on my being with Old
 
 174 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Noll — tliy General I mean — in as short time as 
 man and horse may consume betwixt Woodstock 
 and Windsor, where I think I shall for the pre- 
 sent find thy friend keeping possession where he 
 has slain." 
 
 *' Hush, not a word of that. Since we parted 
 last night, I have shaped thee a path which will 
 suit thee better than to assume the decency of 
 language, and of outward manner, of which thou 
 hast so little. I have acquainted the General that 
 thou hast been by bad example and bad educa- 
 tion " 
 
 " Which is to be interpreted by contraries, 
 I hope,'"" said Wildrake ; " for sure I have been 
 as well born and bred up as any lad of Leices- 
 tershire might desire.'"' 
 
 " Now, I prithee hush — thou hast, I say, by 
 bad example become at one time a Malignant, 
 and mixed in the party of the late King. But 
 seeing what things were wrought in the nation by 
 the General, thou hast come to a clearness touch- 
 ing his calling to be a great implement in the 
 settlement of these distracted kingdoms. This 
 accoimt of thee will not only lead him to pass
 
 WOODSTOCK. 175 
 
 over some of thy eccentricities, should they 
 break out in spite of thee, but will also give thee 
 an interest with him as being more especially at- 
 tached to Ills own person." 
 
 " Doubtless," said Wildrake, " as every fish- 
 er loves best the trouts that are of his own tick- 
 ling." 
 
 " It is likely, I think, he will send thee hither 
 with letters to me," said the Colonel, *' enabling 
 me to put a stop to the proceedings of these se- 
 questrators, and to give poor old Sir Henry Lee 
 permission to linger out his days among the oaks 
 he loves to look upon. I have made it my re- 
 quest to him, and I think my father's friendship 
 and my own may stretch so far on his regard 
 without risk of cracking, especially standing mat- 
 ters as they now do — thou dost understand .?" 
 
 " Entirely well," said the cavalier ; " stretch, 
 quotha ! — I would rather stretch a rope than hold 
 commerce with the old King-killing ruffian. But 
 I have said I will be guided by thee, Markhani, 
 and rat me but I will." 
 
 " Be cautious then," said Everard, " mark 
 well what he does and says — more especially what
 
 170 Hvoon STOCK. 
 
 he does ; for Oliver is one of those whose mind 
 is better known by his actions than by his words 
 — and stay — I warrant thee thou wert setting off 
 without a cross in thy purse ?" 
 
 " Too true, Mark," said Wildrake, " the last 
 noble melted last night amongst yonder black- 
 guard troopers of yours." 
 
 " Well, Roger,"" replied the Colonel, " that is 
 easily mended." So saying, he slipped his purse 
 into his friend's hand. " But art thou not an in- 
 consequential weather-brained fellow, to set forth 
 as thou wert about to do without anything to bear 
 thy charges — what could'st thou have done.?" 
 
 " Faith, I never thought of that — I must have 
 cried Stand, I suppose, to the first pursy towns- 
 man, or greasy grazier, that I meto' the heath — it 
 is many a good fellow"'s shift in these bad times." 
 
 *' Go to," said Everai'd ; " be cautious — use 
 none of your loose acquaintance — rule your 
 tongue — beware of the wine-pot — for there is 
 little danger if thou couWst only but keep thy- 
 self sober — Be moderate in speech, and forbear 
 oaths or vaunting." 
 
 *' In short, metamorphose myself into such a
 
 WOODSTOCK. 177 
 
 prig as tliou art, Mark. — Well/"' said Wildrake, 
 " so far as outside will go, I think I can make 
 a Hope-on-high Bomhy* as well as thou canst. 
 Ah ! those were merry days when we saw Mills 
 present Bomby at the Fortune play-house, Mark, 
 ere I had lost my laced cloak and the jewel in my 
 ear, or thou hadst gotten the wrinkle on thy brow, 
 and the puritanic twist of thy mustachio !" 
 
 " They were like most worldly pleasures, Wild- 
 rake," replied Everard, " sweet in the mouth and 
 bitter in digestion. — But away with thee; and 
 when thou bring''st back my answer, thou wilt 
 find me either here or at Saint George"'s Inn, at 
 the little borough. — Good luck to thee — Be but 
 cautious how thou bearest thyself."" 
 
 The Colonel remained in deep meditation.— 
 *' I think," he said, " I have not pledged myself 
 too far to the General. A breach between him 
 and the Parliament seems inevitable, and would 
 throw England back into civil war, of which all 
 men are wearied. He may dislike my messenger 
 
 " A puritanic character in one of Beaumont and Fletcher's 
 plays. 
 
 VOL. I. - M
 
 178 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 — ^yet that I do not greatly fear. He knows I 
 would choose such as I can myself depend on, 
 and hath dealt enough with the stricter sort to 
 be aware that there are among them, as well as 
 elsewhere, men who can hide two faces under 
 one hood="
 
 \S'OODSTOCK. 179 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 For there in lofty air was seen to stand 
 The stern Protector of tlie conquer'd land ; 
 Drawn in that look with which he wept and swore, 
 Turn'd out the members, and made fast the door 
 Ridding the house of every knave and drone. 
 Forced — though it griev'd his soul — to rule alone. 
 
 The Frank Courtship Crabbe. 
 
 Leaving Colonel Everard to his meditations, 
 we follow the jolly cavalier, his companion, who, 
 before mounting at the George, did not fail to 
 treat himself to his morning-draught of eggs and 
 musoadine, to enable him to face the harvest 
 wind. 
 
 Although he had suffered himself to be sunk 
 in the extravagant license which was practised 
 by the cavaliers, as if to oppose their conduct in 
 every point to the preciseness of their enemies,
 
 180 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 yet Wildrake, well-born and well-educated, and 
 endowed with good natural parts, and a heart 
 which even debauchery, and the wild life of a 
 roaring cavalier, had not been able entirely to 
 corrupt, moved on his present embassy with a 
 strange mixture of feelings, such as perhaps he 
 had never in his life before experienced. 
 
 His feelings as a royalist led him to detest Crom- 
 well, whom in other circumstances he would scarce 
 have wished to see, except in a field of battle, 
 where he could have had the pleasure to exchange 
 pistol-shots with him. But with this hatred there 
 was mixed a certain degree of fear. Always vic- 
 torious wherever he fought, the remarkable per- 
 son whom Wildrake was now approaching had 
 acquired that influence over the minds of his ene- 
 mies, which constant success is so apt to inspire 
 — they dreaded while they hated him — and join- 
 ed to these feelings, was a restless meddling curi- 
 osity, which made a particular feature in Wild- 
 rake's character, who, having long had little bu- 
 siness of his own, and caring nothing about that 
 which he had, was easily attracted by the desire
 
 WOODSTOCK. 181 
 
 of seeing whatever was curious or interesting 
 around him. 
 
 " I should like to see the old rascal after all," 
 he said, " were it but to say that I had seen him.'" 
 
 He reached Windsor in the afternoon, and 
 felt on his arrival the strongest inclination to 
 take up his residence at some of his old haunts, 
 when he had occasionally frequented that fair 
 town in gayer days. But resisting all temptations 
 of this kind, he went courageously to the prin- 
 cipal inn, from which its ancient emblem, the 
 Garter, had long disappeared. The master, too, 
 whom Wildrake, experienced in his knowledge 
 of landlords and hostelries, had remembered a 
 dashing Mine Host of Queen Bess's school, had 
 now sobered down to the temper of the times, 
 shook his head when he spoke of the Parliament, 
 wielded his spigot with the gravity of a priest 
 conducting a sacrifice, wished England a happy 
 issue out of all her afflictions, and greatly laud- 
 ed his Excellency the Lord General. Wildrake 
 also remarked, that his wine was better than it 
 was wont to be, the Puritans having an excellent 
 gift at detecting every fallacy in that matter;
 
 182 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and that his measures were less, and his charges 
 larger — circumstances which he was induced to 
 attend to, by mine host talking a good deal about 
 his conscience. 
 
 He was told by this important personage, that 
 the Lord General received frankly all sorts of 
 persons ; and that he might obtain access to him 
 next morning, at eight o'^clock, for the trouble of 
 presenting himself at the castle-gate, and announ- 
 cing himself as the bearer of dispatches to his 
 Excellency. 
 
 To the Castle, the disguised cavalier repaired 
 at the hour appointed. Admittance was freely 
 permitted to him by the red-coated soldier, who, 
 with austere looks, and his musket on his shoul- 
 der, mounted guard at the external gate of that 
 noble building. Wildrake passed through the 
 under-ward or court, gazing as he passed upon 
 the beautiful Chapel, which had but lately recei- 
 ved, in darkness and silence, the unhonoured 
 remains of the slaughtered King of England. 
 Rough as Wildrake was, the recollection of 
 this circumstance affected him so strongly, that 
 he had nearly turned back in a sort of horror, 

 
 WOODSTOCK. 183 
 
 rather than face the dark and daring man, to 
 whom, amongst all the actors in that melancholy 
 affair, its tragic conclusion was chiefly to be im- 
 puted. But he felt the necessity of subduing all 
 sentiments of this nature, and compelled himself 
 to proceed in a negotiation intrusted to his conduct 
 by one to whom he was so much obliged as Co- 
 lonel Everard. At the ascent, which passed by the 
 Round Tower, he looked to the ensign-staff, from 
 which the banner of England was wont to float. 
 It was gone, with all its rich emblazonry, its gor- 
 geous quarterings, and splendid embroidery; and 
 in its room waved that of the Commonwealth, 
 the cross of Saint George, in its colours of blue 
 and red, not yet intersected by the diagonal cross 
 of Scotland, which was soon after assumed, in 
 evidence of England's conquest over her ancient 
 enemy. This change of ensigns increased the train 
 of his gloomy reflections, in which, although con- 
 trary to his wont, he became so deeply wrapped, 
 that the first thing which recalled him to himself, 
 was the challenge from the sentinel, accompanied 
 with a stroke of the butt of his musket on the
 
 184 WOODSTOCK . 
 
 pavement, with an emphasis which made Wild- 
 rake start. 
 
 " Whither away, and who are you ?" 
 " The bearer of a packet," answered Wildrake, 
 " to the worshipful the Lord General.'" 
 " Stand till I call the officer of the guard." 
 The corporal made his appearance, distinguish- 
 ed above those of his command by a double 
 quantity of band round his neck, a double 
 height of steeple-crowned hat, a larger allowance 
 of cloak, and a treble proportion of sour gravity 
 of aspect. It might be read on his countenance, 
 that he was one of those tremendous enthusiasts 
 to whom Oliver owed his conquests, whose reli- 
 gious zeal made them even more than a match for 
 the high-spirited and high-born cavaliers, who 
 exhausted their valour in vain in defence of their 
 sovereign's person and crown. He looked with 
 grave solemnity at W^ildrake, as if he was making 
 in his own mind an inventory of his features and 
 dress; and having fully perused them, he requi- 
 red " to know his business." 
 
 " My business," said Wildrake, as firmly as he 
 crould— for the close investigation of this man had
 
 WOODSTOCK. 185 
 
 given him some unpleasant nervous sensations— 
 " my business is with your General."" 
 
 '* With his Excellency the Lord General, thou 
 wouWst say ?'''' replied the corporal. " Thy 
 speech, my friend, savours too little of the reve- 
 rence due to'his Excellency." 
 
 " D — n his Excellency," was at the lips of the 
 cavalier ; but prudence kept guard, and permitted 
 not the offensive words to escape the barrier. He 
 only bowed, and was silent. 
 
 " Follow me," said the starched figure whom 
 he addressed; and Wildrake followed him accord- 
 ingly into the guard-house, which exhibited an 
 interior characteristic of the times, and very dif- 
 ferent from what such military stations present 
 at the present day. 
 
 By the fire sat two or thi-ee musketeers, listening 
 to one who was expounding some religious mys- 
 tery to them. He began half beneath his breath, 
 but in tones of great volubility, which tones, as he 
 approached the conclusion, became sharp and ea- 
 ger, as challenging either instant answer or silent 
 acquiescence. The audience seemed to listen to 
 the speaker with immovable features, only an- 
 swering him with clouds of tobacco-smoke, which
 
 186 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 they rolled from under their thick mustachios. On 
 a bench lay a soldier on his face ; whether asleep, 
 or in a fit of contemplation, i-t was impossible to 
 decide. In the midst of the floor stood an officer, 
 as he seemed by his embroidered shoulder-belt and 
 scarf round his waist, otherwise very plainly at- 
 tired, who was engaged in drilling a stout bump- 
 kin, lately enlisted, to the manual, as it was then 
 used. The motions and words of command were 
 twenty at the very least ; and until they were 
 regularly brought to an end, the corporal did not 
 permit Wildrake either to sit down or move for- 
 ward beyond the threshold of the guard-house. 
 So he had to listen in succession to — Poize your 
 musket — Rest your musket — Cock your musket 
 — Handle your primers — and many other forgot- 
 ten words of discipline, until at length the words, 
 " Order your musket," ended the drill for the 
 time. 
 
 " Thv name, friend ?" said the officer to the 
 recruit, when the lesson was over. 
 
 '* Ephraim," answered the fellow with an affijct 
 ed twang through the nose. 
 
 " And what besides Ephraim ?" 
 
 9
 
 WOODSTOCK. 187 
 
 " Ephraim Cobb, from the godly city of Glo- 
 cester, where I have dwelt for seven years, ser- 
 ving apprentice to a praise- worthy cordwainer.*" 
 
 " It is a goodly craft," answered the officer ; 
 " but casting in thy lot with ours, doubt not that 
 thou shalt be set beyond thine awl, and thy last 
 to boot" 
 
 A grim smile of the speaker accompanied this 
 poor attempt at a pun ; and then tui-ning round 
 to the corporal, who stood two paces off, with the 
 face of one who seemed desirous of speaking, 
 said, " How now, corporal, what tidings ?"" 
 
 " Here is one with a packet, and please your 
 Excellency," said the corporal — " Surely my 
 spirit does not rejoice in him, seeing I esteem him 
 as a wolf in sheep's clothing." 
 
 By these words, Wildrake learned that he was 
 in the actual presence of the remarkable person 
 to whom he was commissioned ; and he paused 
 to consider in what manner he ought to address 
 him. 
 
 The figure of Oliver Cromwell was, as is ge- 
 nerally known, in no way prepossessing. He 
 was of middle stature, strong and coarsely made, 
 with harsh and severe features, indicative, how-
 
 188 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 -ever, of much natural sagacity and depth of 
 thought. His eyes were grey and piercing ; his 
 nose too large in proportion to his other features. 
 His manner of speaking, when he had the pur- 
 pose to make himself distinctly understood, was 
 energetic and forcible, though neither graceful 
 nor eloquent. No man could on such occasion 
 put his meaning into fewer and more decisive 
 words. But when, as it often happened, he had 
 a mind to play the orator, for the benefit of peo- 
 ple's ears, without enlightening their understand- 
 ing, Cromwell was wont to invest his meaning, or 
 that which seemed to be his meaning, in such a 
 mist of words, surrounding it with so many exclu- 
 sions and exceptions, and fortifying it with such a 
 labyrinth of parentheses, that though one of the 
 most shrewd men in England, he was, perhaps, 
 the most unintelligible speaker that ever perplex- 
 ed an audience. It has been long since said by 
 the historian, that a collection of the Protector's 
 speeches would make, with a few exceptions, the 
 most nonsensical book in the \vorld ; but he ought 
 to have added, that nothing could be more ner- 
 vous, concise, and intelligible, than what lie really 
 intended should be understood,
 
 \VOOI)STOCK. 180 
 
 It was also remarked of Cromwell, that though 
 born of a good family, both by father and mother, 
 and although he had the usual opportunities of 
 education and breeding connected with such an 
 advantage, the fanatic democratic ruler could 
 never acquire, or else disdained to practise, the 
 courtesies usually exercised among the higher 
 classes in their intercourse with each other. His 
 demeanour was so blunt as sometimes might be 
 termed clownish, yet there was in his language 
 and manner a force and energy corresponding to 
 his character, which impressed awe, if it did not 
 impose respect ; and there were even times when 
 that dark and subtle spirit expanded itself, so as 
 almost to conciliate affection. The turn for hu- 
 mour, which displayed itself by fits, was broad, 
 and of a low and sometimes practical character. 
 Something there was in his disposition congenial 
 to that of his countrymen ; a contempt of folly, a 
 hatred of affectation, and a dislike of ceremony, 
 which, joined to the strong intrinsic qualities of 
 sense and courage, made him in many respects 
 not an unfit representative of the democracy of 
 England. 
 
 His religion must always be a subject of much
 
 190 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 doubt, and probably of doubt which he himself 
 could hardly have cleared up. Unquestionably 
 there was a time in his life when he was sincerely 
 enthusiastic, and when his natural temper, slight- 
 ly subject to hypochondria, was strongly agita- 
 ted by the same fanaticism which influenced so 
 many persons of the time. On the other hand, 
 there were periods during his political career, 
 when we certainly do him no injustice in char- 
 ging him with hypocritical affectation. We shall 
 probably judge him, and others of the same age, 
 most truly, if we suppose that their religious 
 professions were partly influential in their own 
 breast, partly assumed in compliance with their 
 own interest. And so ingenious is the human 
 heart in deceiving itself as well as others, that it 
 is probable neither Cromwell himself, nor those 
 making similar pretensions to distinguished piety, 
 could exactly have fixed the point at which their 
 enthusiasm terminated and their hypocrisy com- 
 menced ; or rather, it was a point not fixed in it- 
 self, but fluctuating with the state of health, of 
 good or bad fortune, of high or low spirits, affect- 
 ing the individual at the period. 
 
 Such was the celebrated person, who, turning
 
 WOODSTOCK. 191 
 
 round on Wildrake, and scanning his counte- 
 nance closely, seemed so little satisfied with what 
 he beheld, that he instinctively hitched forward 
 his belt, so as to bring the handle of his tuck- 
 sword within his reach. But yet, folding his arms 
 in his cloak, as if upon second thoughts laying 
 aside suspicion, or thinking precaution beneath 
 him, he asked the cavalier what he was, and whence 
 he came? 
 
 " A poor gentleman, sir, — that is, my lord,"— 
 answered Wildrake ; " last from Woodstock." 
 
 " And what may your tidings be, sir gentle- 
 man ?" said Cromwell, with an emphasis. " Tru= 
 ly I have seen those most willing to take upon 
 them that title, bear themselves somewhat short 
 of wise men, and good men, and true men, with 
 all their gentility : Yet gentleman was a good 
 title in old England, when men remembered what 
 it was construed to mean." 
 
 " You say truly, sir," replied Wildrake, sup- 
 pressing, with difficulty, some of his usual wild 
 expletives; " formerly gentlemen were found in 
 gentlemen's places, but now the world is so chan- 
 ged, that you shall find the broidered belt has 
 changed place with the under spur-leather."
 
 19S 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Say'st thou me ?" said the General ; " I pro- 
 fess thoa art a bold companion, that can bandy 
 M'ords so wantonly ; — thou ring'st somewhat too 
 loud to be good metal, methinks : And, once 
 again, what are thy tidings with me ?" 
 
 " This packet," said Wildrake, " commended 
 to your hands by Colonel Markham Everard." 
 
 " Alas, I must have mistaken thee," answer- 
 ed Cromwell, mollified at the mention of a man's 
 name whom he had great desire to make his 
 own ; " forgive us, good friend, for such, we 
 doubt not, thou art. Sit thee down, and com- 
 mune with thyself as thou mayst, until we have 
 examined the contents of thy packet. Let him 
 be looked to, and have what he lacks." So say- 
 ing the General left the guard-house, where 
 Wildrake took his seat in the corner, and await- 
 ed with patience the issue of his mission. 
 
 The soldiers now thought themselves obliged to 
 treat him with more consideration, and offered him 
 a pipe of Trinidadoe, and a black jack filled with 
 October. But the look of Cromwell, and the dan- 
 gerous situation in which he might be placed by 
 the least chance of detection, induced Wildrake to 
 
 16
 
 WOODSTOCK. ' I9rj 
 
 decline these hospitable offers, and stretching 
 back in his chair, and affecting slumber, he es- 
 caped notice or conversation, until a sort of aid- 
 de-canip, or military officer in attendance, came 
 to summon him to CromweH's presence. 
 
 By this person he was guided to a postern- 
 gate, through which he entered the body of the 
 Castle, and penetrating through many private 
 passages and stair-cases, he at length was intro- 
 duced into a small cabinet, or parlour, in which 
 was muxh rich furniture, some bearing the royal 
 cypher displayed, but all confused and disarran- 
 ged, together with several paintings in massive 
 frames, having their faces turned towards the wall, 
 as if they had been taken down for the purpose 
 of being removed. 
 
 In this scene of disorder, the victorious Gene- 
 ral of the Commonwealth was seated in a large 
 easy-chair, covered with damask, and deeply 
 embroidered, the splendour of which made a 
 strong contrast with the plain, and even homely 
 character of his apparel ; although in look and 
 action he seemed like one who felt that the seat 
 which might have in former days held a prince, 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 was not too much distinguished for his own for- 
 tunes and ambition. Wildrake stood before him, 
 nor did he ask him to sit down. 
 
 " Pearson," said Cromwell, addressing himself 
 to the officer in attendance, " wait in the gallery, 
 but be within call." Pearson bowed, and was 
 retiring. " Who are in the gallery besides ?" 
 
 " Worthy Mr Gordon, the chaplain, was hold- 
 ing forth but now to Colonel Overton, and four 
 captains of your Excellency's regiment." 
 
 " We would have it so," said the General ; 
 " we would not there were any corner in our 
 dwelling where the hungry soul might not meet 
 with manna. Was the good man carried onward 
 in his discourse ?" 
 
 " Mightily borne through," said Pearson; 
 "' and he was touching the rightful claims which 
 the army, and especially your Excellency, hath 
 acquired, by becoming the instruments in the >■ 
 
 great work ; — not instruments to be broken asun- I 
 
 der and cast away when the day of their service 
 is over, but to be preserved, and held precious 
 and prized for their honourable and faithful la- 
 bours, for which they have fought and marched, 
 
 3
 
 WOODSTOCK. 195 
 
 and fasted, and prayed, and suffered cold and 
 sorrow ; while otliers, who would now gladly see 
 them disbanded, and broken, and cashiered, eat 
 of the fat, and drink of the strong." 
 
 " Ah, good man !" said Cromwell, " and did 
 he touch upon this so feelingly? I could say 
 something — but not now. Begone, Pearson, to 
 the gallery. Let not our friends lay aside their 
 swords, but watch as well as pray." 
 
 Pearson retired ; and the General, holding the 
 letter of Everard in his hand, looked again for 
 a long while fixedly at Wildrake, as if consider- 
 ing in what strain he should address him. 
 
 "When he did speak, it was, at first, in one of 
 those ambiguous discourses which wehave already 
 described, and by which it was very difficult for 
 any one to understand his meaning, if, indeed, 
 he knew it himself. We shall be as concise in 
 our statement, as our desire to give the very 
 words of a man so extraordinary will permit. 
 
 " This letter," he said, " you have brought 
 us from your master, or patron, Markham Eve- 
 rard ; truly an excellent and honourable gentle- 
 man as ever bore a sword upon his thigh, and
 
 liK) WOODSTOCK. 
 
 one who hath ever distinguished himself in the 
 great work of delivering these three poor and 
 unhappy nations. — Answer me not : I know what 
 thou would'st say. — And this letter he hath sent 
 to me by thee, his clerk, or secretary, in whom 
 he hath confidence, and in whom he prays me to 
 have trust, that there may be a careful messen- 
 ger between us. And lastly, he hath sent thee 
 to me — Do not answer — I know what thou 
 would'st say, — to me, who, albeit I am of that 
 small consideration, that it would be too much 
 honour for me even to bear a halbert in this 
 great and victorious army of England, am never- 
 theless exalted to the rank of holding the guid- 
 ance and the leading-staff thereof. — Nay, do not 
 answer, my friend — I know what thou would'st 
 say. — Now, when communing thus together, our 
 discourse taketh, in respect to what I have said, 
 a threefold argument, or division : First, as it 
 concerneth thy master ; secondly, as it concern- 
 eth us and our office ; thirdly and lastly, as it 
 toucheth thyself. Now, as concerning this good 
 and worthy gentleman, Colonel Markham Eve- 
 rard, truly he hath played the man from the be- 
 
 I
 
 WOODSTOCK. 197 
 
 ginning of these unhappy buft'etings, not turning 
 to the right or to the left, but holding ever in 
 his eye the mark at which he aimed. Ay, truly, 
 a faithful honourable gentleman, and one who 
 may well call me friend ; and truly I am pleased 
 to think that he doth so. Nevertheless, in this 
 vale of tears, we must be governed less by our 
 private respects and partialities, than by those 
 higher principles and points of duty, whereupon 
 the good Colonel Markham Everard hath ever 
 framed his purposes, as, truly, I have endea- 
 voured to form mine, that we may all act as be- 
 cometh good Englishmen and worthy patriots. 
 Then, as for Woodstock, it is a great thing which 
 the good Colonel asks, that it should be taken 
 from the spoil of the godly, and left in keeping 
 of the men of Moab, and especially of the malig- 
 nant, Henry Lee, whose hand hath been ever 
 against us when he might .find room to raise it ; 
 I say, he hath asked a great thing, both in respect 
 of himself and me. For we of this poor but 
 godly army of England, are holden, by these 
 of the Parliament, as men who should render in 
 spoil for them, but be no sharer of it ourselves ; 
 even as the buck, which the hounds pull to earth,
 
 198 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 i'urnisheth no part of their own food, but they are 
 lashed off' from the carcase with whips, hke those 
 which require punishment for their forwardness, 
 not reward for their services. Yet I speak not 
 this so much in respect of this grant of Wood- 
 stock, in regard that, perhaps, their Lordships 
 of the Council, and also the Committee-men of 
 this Parliament, may graciously think they have 
 given me a portion in the matter, in relation that 
 my kinsman Desborough hath an interest allowed 
 him therein ; which interest, as he hath well de- 
 served it for his true and faithful service to these 
 unhappy and devoted countries, so it would ill 
 become me to diminish the same to his prejudice, 
 unless it were upon great and public respects. 
 Thus thou seest how it stands with me, my ho- 
 nest friend, and in what mind I stand touching 
 this thy master's request to me ; which yet I do 
 not say that I can altogether, or unconditionally, 
 grant or refuse, but only tell my simple thoughts 
 with regard thereto. Thou understandest me, I 
 doubt not ?" 
 
 Now. Roger Wildrake, with all the attention 
 he had been able to jjay to the Lord General's 
 speech, had got so much confused among the
 
 WOODSIOCK. lyi) 
 
 various clauses of the harangue, that his brain 
 was bewildered, like that of a country clown 
 when he chances to get himself involved among 
 a crowd of carriages, and cannot stir a step to 
 get out of the way of one of them, without being 
 in danger of being ridden over by the others. 
 
 The General saw his look of perplexity, and 
 began a new oration, to the same purpose as be- 
 fore ; — spoke of his love for his kind friend the 
 Colonel, — his regard for his pious and godly 
 kinsman. Master Desborough, — the great import- 
 ance of the Palace and Park of Woodstock, — the 
 determination of the Parliament that it should 
 be confiscated, and the produce brought into the 
 coffers of the state, — his own deep veneration for 
 the authority of Parliament, and his no less deep 
 sense of the injustice done to the army, — how it 
 was his wish and will that all matters should be 
 settled in an amicable and friendly manner, with- 
 out self-seeking, debate, or strife, betwixt those 
 who had been the hands acting, and such as 
 had been the heads governing, in that great na- 
 tional cause, — how he was willing, truly willing, 
 to contribute to this work, by laying down, not 
 his commission only, but bis life also, if it were
 
 aoO wooDsrot K. 
 
 requested of him, or could be granted with safety 
 to the poor soldiers, to whom, silly poor men, he 
 was bound to be as a father, seeing that they 
 had followed him with the duty and affection of 
 children. 
 
 And here he arrived at another dead pause, 
 leaving Wildrake as uncertain as before, whe- 
 ther it was or was not his purpose to grant 
 Colonel Everard the powers he had asked for 
 the protection of Woodstock against the Parlia- 
 mentary Commissioners. Internally he began 
 to entertain hopes that the justice of Heaven, or 
 the effects of remorse, had confounded the regi- 
 cide's understanding. But no— he could see 
 nothing but sagacity in that steady stern eye, 
 which, while the tongue poured forth its peri- 
 phrastic language in such profusion, seemed to 
 watch with severe accuracy the effect which his 
 oratory produced on the listener. 
 
 " Egad," thought the cavalier to himself, 
 becoming a little familiar Avith the situation in 
 which he was placed, and rather impatient of a 
 conversation which led to no visible conclusion 
 or termination, " if Noll were the devil himself,
 
 WOODSTOCK. ^l 
 
 as he is the deviPs dailing, I will not be thus 
 nose-kd by him. I'll e'en brusque it a little, if 
 he goes on at this rate, and try if I can bring 
 him to a more intelligible mode of speaking." 
 
 Entertaining this bold purpose, but half afraid 
 to execute it, Wildrake lay by for an opportu- 
 nity of making the attempt, while Cromwell was 
 apparently unable to express his own meaning. 
 He was already beginning a third panegyric upon 
 Colonel Everard, with sundry varied expressions 
 of his own wish to oblige him, when Wildrake 
 took the opportunity of a pause to strike in, on 
 the General's making one of his oratorical pauses. 
 
 " So please you," he said, bluntly, " your wor- 
 ship has already spoken on two topics of your 
 discourse, your own worthiness, and that of my 
 master. Colonel Everard. But, to enable me to 
 do mine errand, it would be necessary to bestow 
 a few words on the third head." 
 
 " The third !" said Cromwell. 
 
 " Ay," said Wildrake, " which, in your ho- 
 nour's subdivision of your discourse, touched on 
 my unworthy self. What am I to do — what por-= 
 tion am I to have in this matter ?'"'
 
 202 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Oliver started at once from the tone of voice he 
 had hitherto used, and which somewhat resem- 
 bled the purring of a domestic cat, into the growl 
 of the tiger when about to spring. " Thy por- 
 tion, jail-bird !"" he exclaimed, " the gallows— 
 thou shalt hang as high as Haman, if thou betray 
 counsel ! — But," he added, softening his voice, 
 " keep it like a true man, and my favour will be 
 the making of thee. Come hither — thou art bold, 
 I see, though somewhat saucy. Thou hast been a 
 malignant — so writes my worthy friend Colonel 
 Everard ; but thou hast now given up that fall- 
 ing cause. I tell thee, friend, not all that the Par- 
 liament or the army could do would have pulled 
 down the Stuarts out of their high places, saving 
 that Heaven had a controversy with them. Well, 
 it is a sweet and comely thing to buckle on one's 
 armour in behalf of Heaven's cause ; otherwise 
 truly, for mine own part, these men might have 
 remained upon the throne even unto this day. 
 Neither do I blame any for aiding them, until 
 these successive great judgments have over- 
 whelmed them and their house. I am not a 
 bloody man, having in me the feeling of human
 
 WOODSTOCK. S03 
 
 frailty ; but, friend, whosoever puttcth his hand 
 to the plough, in the great actings which are now 
 on foot in these nations, had best beware that 
 they do not look back ; for, rely upon my simple 
 word, that if you fail me, I will not spare on you 
 one foot's length of the gallows of Haman. Let 
 me therefore know, at a word, if the leaven of thy 
 maliffnancv is altogether drubbed out of thee ?" 
 
 " Your honourable lordship," said tlie cava- 
 lier, shrugging up his shoulders, " has done that 
 for most of us, so far as cudgelling to some tune 
 can perform it." 
 
 " Say'st thou ?" said the General, with a grim 
 smile on his lip, which seemed to intimate that 
 he was not quite inaccessible to flattery ; " yea, 
 truly, thou dost not lie in that — we have been an 
 instrument. Neither are we, as I have already 
 hinted, so severely bent against those who have 
 striven against us as malignants, as others may be. 
 The parliament-men best know their own inte- 
 rest and their own pleasure ; but, to my poor 
 thinking, it is full time to close these jars, and. to 
 allow men of all kinds the means of doing service 
 to their country ; and we think it will be thy fault
 
 i^04 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 if thou art not employed to good purpose for the 
 state and thyself, on condition thou puttest away 
 the old man entirely from thee, and givest thy 
 earnest attention to what I have to tell thee/' 
 
 " Your lordship need not doubt my atten- 
 tion," said the cavalier. 
 
 And the republican General, after another 
 pause, as one who gave his confidence not with- 
 out hesitation, proceeded to explain his views 
 with a distinctness which he seldom used, yet 
 not without his being a little biassed now and 
 then, by his long habits of circumlocution, which 
 indeed he seldom laid entirely aside, save in the 
 field of battle. 
 
 " Thou seest," he said, " my friend, how 
 things stand with me. The Parliament, I care 
 not who knows it, love me not — still less do the 
 Council of State, by whom they manage the exe- 
 cutive government of the kingdom. I cannot 
 tell why they nourish suspicion against me, un- 
 less it is because I will not deliver this poor in- 
 nocent army, which has followed me in so many 
 military actions, to be now pulled asunder, bro- 
 ken piece-meal and reduced, so that they who
 
 WOODSTOCK. 205 
 
 have protected the state at the expense of, their 
 blood, will not have, perchance, the means of 
 feeding themselves by their labour ; which, me- 
 thinks, were hard measure, since it is taking 
 from Esau his birth-right even without giving 
 him a poor mess of pottage." 
 
 " Esau is likely to help himself, I think," re- 
 plied Wildrake. 
 
 " Truly, thou say'st wisely," replied the Ge- 
 neral ; " it is ill starving an armed man, if there 
 is food to be had for taking — nevertheless, far be 
 it from me to encourage rebellion, or want of due 
 subordination to these our rulers. I would only 
 petition in a due and becoming, a sweet and har- 
 monious manner, that they would listen to our 
 conditions, and consider our necessities. But, sir, 
 looking on me, and esteeming me so little as they 
 do, you must think that it would be a provoca- 
 tion in me towards the Council of State, as well 
 as the Parliament, if, simply to gratify your wor- 
 thy master, I were to act contrary to their pur- 
 poses, or deny currency to the commission un- 
 der their authority, which is as yet the highest 
 in the State — and long may it be so for me ! — to 
 carry on the sequestiation which they intend.
 
 S06 WOOBSTOCK 
 
 And would it not also be said, that I was lendino- 
 myself to the malignant interest, affording this 
 den of the blood-thirsty and lascivious tyrants of 
 yore, to be in this our day a place of refuge to 
 that old and inveterate Amalekite Sir Henry Lee, 
 to keep possession of the place in which he hath 
 so long glorified himself? Truly, it would be a 
 perilous matter." 
 
 " Am I then to report,"" said Wildrake, " an 
 if it please you, that you cannot stead Colonel 
 Everard in this matter ?'' 
 
 *' Unconditionally, ay — but, taken condition- 
 ally, the answer may be otherwise," — answered 
 Cromwell. " I see thou art not able to fathom 
 my purpose, and therefore I will partly unfold 
 it to thee. — But take notice, that should thy 
 tongue betray my council, save in so far as car- 
 rying it to thy master, by all the blood which has 
 been shed in these wild times, thou shalt die a 
 thousand deaths in one !" 
 
 " Do not fear me, sir," said Wildrake, whose 
 natural boldness and carelessness of character was 
 for the present time borne down and quelled, like 
 that of falcons in the presence of the eagle. 
 
 " Hear me, then," said Cromwell, " and let
 
 WOODSTOCK. 207 
 
 no syllabic escape thcc. Knowcst tlioii not the 
 young Lee whom they call Albert, a malignant 
 like his father, and one who went up with the 
 young man to that last ruffle which we had with 
 him at Worcester ? — May we be grateful for the 
 victory !" 
 
 " I know there is such a young gentleman as 
 Albert Lee," said Wildrake. 
 
 '* And knowest thou not — I speak not by way 
 of prying into the good ColonePs secrets, but only 
 as it behoves me to know something of the matter 
 that I may best judge how I am to serve him — 
 Knowest thou not that thy master, Markham 
 Everard, is a suitor after the sister of this same 
 malignant, a daughter of the old Keeper, called 
 Sir Henry Lee ?'"'' 
 
 " All this I have heard," said Wildrake, " nor 
 can I deny that I believe in it." 
 
 " Well then, go to. — When the young man 
 Charles Stuart fled from the field of Worcester, 
 and was by sharp chase and pursuit compelled to 
 separate himself from his followers, I know by 
 sure intelligence that this Albert Lee was one of 
 the last who remained with him, if not indeed the 
 very last."
 
 ^08 AVOODSTOCK. 
 
 " It was devilish like him," said the cavalier, 
 without sufficiently weighing his expressions, con- 
 sidering in what presence they were to be uttered 
 — " And I'll uphold him with my rapier, to be 
 a true chip of the old block.*' 
 
 " Ha, swearest thou ?" said the General. " Is 
 this thy reformation ?"" 
 
 " I never swear, so please you," replied Wild- 
 rake, recollecting himself, " except there is some 
 mention of malignants and cavaliers in my hear- 
 ing ; and then the old habit returns, and I swear 
 like one of Goring's troopers." 
 
 *' Out upon thee," said the General ; " what 
 can it avail thee to practise a profanity so horri- 
 ble to the ears of others, and which brings no 
 emolument to him who uses it .?" 
 
 " There are doubtless more profitable sins in the 
 world than the vice of swearing," was the answer 
 which rose to the lips of the cavalier ; but that was 
 exchanged for a profession of regret for having 
 given offence. The truth was, the discourse began 
 to take a turn which rendered it more interesting 
 than ever to Wildrake, who therefore determined 
 not to lose the opportunity for obtaining posses- 
 
 8
 
 WOODSTOCK. 209 
 
 sion of the secret that seemed to be suspend- 
 ed on CromwelPs hps; and that could only be 
 through means of keeping guard upon his own. 
 
 " What sort of a house is Woodstock ?" said 
 the General abruptly. 
 
 " An old mansion," said Wildrake in reply ; 
 " and so far as I could judge by a single night's 
 lodgings, having abundance of back-stairs, also 
 subterranean passages, and all the communica- 
 tions under ground, which are common in old 
 raven-nests of the sort.'' 
 
 " And places for concealing priests unques- 
 tionably," said Cromwell. " It is seldom that such 
 ancient houses lack secret stalls wherein to mew 
 up these calves of Bethel." 
 
 " Your Honour's Excellency," said Wildrake, 
 " may swear to that." 
 
 " I swear not at all, "—replied the General drily. 
 — " But what think'st thou, good fellow ? — I will 
 ask thee a blunt question — Where will those two 
 Worcester fugitives that thou wottest of be more 
 likely to take shelter — and that they must be 
 sheltered somewhere, I well know — than in this 
 same old palace, with all the corners and conceal- 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 glO WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ments wliereof young Albert hath been acquaint- 
 ed ever since his earliest infancy ?"" 
 
 " Truly," said Wildrake, making an effort to 
 answer the question with seeming indifFerence, 
 wliile the possibility of such an event, and its con- 
 sequences, flashed fearfully upon his mind, — 
 '• Truly, I should be of your honour's opinion, 
 but that I think the company, who, by the 
 commission of Parliament, have occupied Wood- 
 stock, are likely to fright them thence, as a cat 
 scares doves from a pigeon-house. The neigh- 
 bourhood, with reverence, of Generals Desbo- 
 rough and Harrison, will suit ill with fugitives 
 from Worcester-field.'" 
 
 *' I thought as much, and so, indeed, would I 
 have it," answered the General. "Long may it be 
 ere our names shall be aught but a terror to our 
 enemies. But in this matter, if thou art an active 
 plotter for thy master's interest, thou might'st, I 
 should think, work out something favourable to 
 his present object." 
 
 " My brain is too poor to reach the depth of 
 your honourable purpose," said Wildrake. 
 
 *' Listen then, and let it be to profit," answer- 
 ed Cromwell. " Assuredly the conquest at Wor-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 211 
 
 cester was a great and crowning mercy ; yet miglii 
 we seem to be but small in our thankfulness for 
 the same, did we not do what in us lies towards 
 the ultimate improvement and final conclusion of 
 the great work which has been thus prosperous-in 
 our hands, professing, in pure humility and sin- 
 gleness of heart, that we do not, in any way, de- 
 sire our instrumentality to be remembered, nay, 
 would rather pray and entreat, that our name and 
 fortunes were forgotten, than that the great work 
 were in itself incomplete. Nevertheless, truly, 
 placed as we now are, it concerns us more nearly 
 than others, — that is, if so poor creatures should 
 at all speak of themselves as concerned, whether 
 more or less, with these changes which have been 
 wrought around, not, I say, by ourselves, or our 
 own power, but by the destiny to which we were 
 called, fulfilling the same with all meekness and 
 humility — I say it concerns us nearly that all 
 things should be done in conformity with the 
 great work which hath been wrought, and is yet 
 working, in these lands. Such is my plain and 
 simple meaning. Nevertheless, it is much to be 
 desired that this young man, this King of Scots,
 
 212 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 as he called himself— this Charles Stuart— should 
 not escape forth from the nation, where his arri- 
 val has wrought so much disturbance and blood- 
 shed." 
 
 ** I have no doubt," said the cavalier, looking 
 down, " that your lordship's wisdom hath direct- 
 ed all things as they may best lead towards such 
 a consummation ; and I pray your pains may be 
 paid as they deserve." 
 
 " I thank thee, friend," said Cromwell, with 
 much humility ; " doubtless we shall meet our 
 reward, being in the hands of a good paymaster, 
 who never passeth Saturday night. But under- 
 stand me, friend — I desire no more than my own 
 share in the good work. I would heartily do 
 what poor kindness I can to your worthy master, 
 and even to you in your degree — for such as I do 
 not converse with ordinary men, that our presence 
 may be forgotten like an every-day's occurrence. 
 Wc speak to men like thee for their reward or 
 their punishment ; and I trust it will be the for- 
 mer which thou in thine office wilt merit at my 
 hand." •
 
 WOODSTOCK. 213 
 
 " Your honour," said Wildrakc, " speaks like 
 one accustomed to command." 
 
 " True ; menu's minds are likened to those of 
 my degree by fear and reverence," said the Ge- 
 neral ; — " but enough of that, desiring, as I do, no 
 other dependency on my special person than is 
 alike to us all upon that which is above us. But 
 I would desire to cast this golden ball into your 
 master"'s cap. He hath served against this Charles 
 Stuart and his father. But he is a kinsman near 
 to the old knight Lee, and stands well affected 
 towards his daughter. Thou also wilt keep a 
 watch, my friend — that ruffling look of thine will 
 procure thee the confidence of every malignant, 
 and the prey cannot approach this cover, as 
 though to shelter, like a coney in the rocks, but 
 thou wilt be sensible of his presence." 
 
 " I make a shift to comprehend your Excel- 
 lency," said the cavalier ; " and I thank you 
 heartily for the good opinion you have put upon 
 me, and which, I pray, I may have some hand- 
 some opportunity of deserving, that I may show 
 my gratitude by the event. But still, with reve- 
 rence, your Excellency's scheme seems unlike- 
 ly, while Woodstock remains in possession of the
 
 214 WOODSTOCK. * 
 
 sequestrators. Both the old knight and his son, 
 and far more such a fugitive as your honour hint- 
 ed at, will take special care not to approach it till 
 they are removed." 
 
 " It is for that I have been dealing with thee 
 thus long," said the General. — " I told thee that 
 I was something unwilling, upon slight occasion, 
 to dispossess the sequestrators by my own proper 
 warrant, although having, perhaps, sufficient au- 
 thority in the state both to do so, and to despise 
 the murmurs of those who blame me. In brief, 
 I would be loath to tamper with my privileges, 
 and make experiments between their strength, 
 and the powers of the commission granted by 
 others, without need, or at least great prospect of 
 advantage. So, if thy Colonel will undertake, for 
 his love of the Republic, to find the means of 
 preventing its worst and nearest danger, which 
 must needs occur from the escape of this young 
 man, and will do his endeavour to stay him, in 
 case his flight should lead him to Woodstock, 
 which I liold very likely, I will give thee an or- 
 der to these sequestrators, to evacuate the palace 
 instantly ; and to the next troop of my regiment, 
 ^vhich lies at Oxford, to turn them out by the
 
 -• WOODSTOCK. 215 
 
 shoulders, if they make any scruples — Ay, even, 
 for example''s sake, if they drag Desborough out 
 foremost, though he be wedded to my sister." 
 
 " So please you, sir," said Wildrake, " and 
 with your most powerful warrant, I trust I might 
 expel the commissioners, even without the aid 
 of your most warlike and devout troopers." 
 
 " That is what I am least anxious about," re- 
 plied the General ; " I should like to see the best 
 of them sit after I had nodded to them to be-^ 
 gone — always excepting the worshipful House, 
 in whose name our commissions run; but who, as 
 some think, will be done with politics ere it be 
 time to renew them. Therefore, what chiefly 
 concerns me to know, is, whether thy master 
 will embrace a traffic which hath such a fair 
 promise of profit with it. I am well convinced 
 that, with a scout like thee, who hast been in the 
 cavaliers'" quarters, and canst, I should guess, 
 resume thy drinking, ruffianly health-quaffing 
 manners whenever thou hast a mind, he must 
 discover where this Stuart hath ensconced him- 
 self. Either the young Lee will visit the old 
 one in person, or he will write to him, or hold
 
 216 WOODSTOCK. S 
 
 communication with him by letter. At all events, 
 Markham Everard and thou must have an eye 
 in every hair of your head." While he spoke, a 
 flush passed over his brow, he rose from his chair, 
 and paced the apartment in agitation. " Woe 
 to you, if you suffer the young adventurer to 
 escape me ! — you had better be in the deepest 
 dungeon in Europe, than breathe the air of Eng- 
 land, should you but dream of playing me false. 
 I have spoken freely to thee, fellow— more freely 
 than is my wont — the time required it. But, to 
 share my confidence is like keeping a watch over 
 a powder-magazine, the least and most insignifi- 
 cant spark blows thee to ashes. Tell your mas- 
 ter what I said — but not how I said it — Fie, 
 that I should have been betrayed into the dis- 
 temperature of passion ! — Begone, sirrah. Pear- 
 son shall bring thee sealed orders — Yet, stay — 
 thou hast something to ask." 
 
 " I would know," said Wildrake, to whom 
 the visible anxiety of the General gave some 
 confidence, " what is the figure of this young 
 gallant, in case I should find him ?" 
 
 *' A tall, raw-boned, swarthy lad, they say
 
 » WOODSTOCK. 217 
 
 he has shot up into. Here is his picture by a 
 good hand, some time since."" He turned round 
 one of the portraits which stood with its face 
 against the wall ; but it proved not to be that of 
 Charles the Second, but of his unhappy father. 
 
 The first motion of Cromwell indicated a pur- 
 pose of hastily replacing the picture, and it seem- 
 ed as if an effort was necessary to repress his dis- 
 inclination to look upon it. But he did repress 
 it, and, placing the picture against the wall, with- 
 drew slowly and sternly, as if, in defiance of his 
 own feeling, he was determined to gain a place 
 from which to see it to advantage. It was well for 
 Wildrake that his dangerous companion had not 
 turned an eye on him, for his blood also kindled 
 when he saw the portrait of his master in the 
 hands of the chief author of his death. Being a 
 fierce and desperate man, he commanded his pas- 
 sion with great difficulty ; and if, on its first vio- 
 lence, he had been provided with a suitable wea- 
 pon, it is possible Cromwell would never have 
 ascended higher in his bold ascent towards su- 
 preme power. 
 
 But this natural and sudden flash of indigna-
 
 2l8 WOODSTOCK. ♦ 
 
 tion, which rushed through the veins of an ordi- 
 nary man Uke Wildrake, was presently subdued, 
 when confronted with the strong yet stifled emo- 
 tion displayed by so powerful a character as 
 Cromwell. As the cavalier looked on his dark 
 and bold countenance, agitated by inward and 
 indescribable feelings, he found his own violence 
 of spirit die away and lose itself in fear and 
 wonder. So true it is, that as greater lights 
 swallow up and extinguish the display of those 
 which are less, so men of great, capacious, and 
 over-ruling minds, bear aside and subdue, in 
 their climax of passion, the more feeble wills 
 and passions of others ; as, when a river joins a 
 brook, the fiercer torrent shoulders aside the 
 smaller stream. 
 
 Wildrake stood a silent, inactive, and almost 
 a terrified spectator, while Cromwell, assuming 
 a firm sternness of eye and manner, as one who 
 compels himself to look on what some strong in- 
 ternal feeling renders painful and disgustful to 
 him, proceeded, in brief and interrupted expres- 
 sions, but yet with a firm voice, to comment on 
 the portrait of the late King. His words seemed
 
 WOODSTOCK. 2J9 
 
 less addressed to Wildrake, than to be the spon- 
 taneous unburthening of his own bosom, swell- 
 ing under recollection of the past and anticipa- 
 tion of the future. 
 
 " That Flemish painter," he said — " that An- 
 tonio Vandyke — what a power he has ! Steel 
 may mutilate, warriors may waste and destroy — 
 still the King stands uninjured by time ; and our 
 grandchildren, while they read his history, may 
 look on his image, and compare the melancholy 
 features with the woful tale. — It was a stern ne- 
 cessity — it was an awful deed ! The calm pride 
 of that eye might have ruled worlds of crouching 
 Frenchmen, or supple Italians, or formal Spa- 
 niards, but its glances only roused the native 
 courage of the stern Englishman. — Lay not on 
 poor sinful man, whose breath is in his nostrils, 
 the blame that he falls, when Heaven never gave 
 him strength of nerves to stand ! The weak rider 
 is thrown by his unruly horse, and trampled to 
 death — the strongest man, the best cavalier, 
 springs to the empty saddle, and uses bit and 
 spur till the fiery horse knows its master. Who 
 blames him, who, mounted aloft, rides triumph-
 
 220 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 antly amongst the people, for having succeeded, 
 where the unskilful and feeble fell and died? 
 Verily he hath his reward : Then, what is that 
 piece of painted canvass to me more than others ? 
 No; let him show to others the reproaches of 
 that cold, calm face, that proud yet complaining 
 eye : Those who have acted on higher respects 
 have no cause to start at painted shadows. Not 
 wealth nor power brought me from my obscu- 
 rity. The oppressed consciences, the injured 
 liberties of England, were the banner that I fol- 
 lowed.'' 
 
 He raised his voice so high, as if pleading in 
 his own defence before some tribunal, that Pear- 
 son, the officer in attendance, looked into the 
 apartment; and observing his master, with his 
 eyes kindling, his arm extended, his foot ad- 
 vanced, and his voice raised, like a general in 
 the act of commanding the advance of his army, 
 he instantly withdrew. 
 
 " It was other than selfish regards that drew 
 me forth to action," continued Cromwell, " and 
 I dare the world — ay, living or dead I challenge 
 —to assert that I armed for a private cause, or 

 
 WOODSTOCK. 2^1 
 
 as a means of enlarging my fortunes. Neither 
 was there a trooper in the regiment who came 
 there with less of evil will to yonder unhap- 
 py " 
 
 At this moment the apartment opened, and a 
 gentlewoman entered, who, from her resemblance 
 to the General, although her features were soft 
 and feminine, might be immediately recognised 
 as his daughter. She walked up to Cromwell, 
 gently but firmly passed her arm through his, 
 and said to him in a persuasive tone, " Father, 
 this is not well — you have promised me this 
 should not happen." 
 
 The General hung down his head, like one 
 who was either ashamed of the passion to which 
 he had given way, or of the influence which was 
 exercised over him. He yielded, however, to 
 the aifectionate impulse, and left the apartment, 
 without again turning his head towards the por- 
 trait which had so much affected him.
 
 222 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Doeior Go to, go to — You have known what you should no«. 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 WiLDRAKE was left in the cabinet, astonished 
 end alone. It was often noised about, that Crom- 
 well, the deep and sagacious statesman, the 
 calm and intrepid commander, he who had over- 
 come such difficulties, and ascended to such 
 heights, that he seemed already to bestride the 
 land which he had conquered, had, like many 
 other men of great genius, a constitutional taint 
 of melancholy, which sometimes displayed itself 
 both in words and actions, and had been first 
 observed, in that sudden and striking change, 
 when, abandoning entirely the dissolute freaks 
 of his youth, he embraced a very strict course of 
 
 u
 
 WOODSTOCK. 223 
 
 religious observances, whicli, upon some occa- 
 sions, he seemed to consider as bringing him into 
 more near and close contact with the spiritual 
 world. This extraordinary man is said some- 
 times, during that period of his life, to have 
 given way to spiritual delusions, or, as he him- 
 self conceived them, prophetic inspirations of 
 approaching grandeur, and of strange, deep, and 
 mysterious agencies, in which he was in future to 
 be engaged, in the same manner as his younger 
 years had been marked by fits of exuberant and 
 excessive frolic and debaucheries. Somethino- of 
 this kind seemed to explain the ebullitions of 
 passion which he had now manifested. 
 
 With wonder at what he had witnessed, Wild- 
 rakefelt some anxiety on hisown account. Though 
 not the most reflecting of mortals, he had sense 
 enough to know, that it is dangerous to be a wit- 
 ness of the infirmities of men high in power; and 
 he was left so long by himself, as induced him to 
 entertain some secret doubts, whether the General 
 might not be tempted to take means of confining 
 or removing a witness, who had seen him low- 
 ered, as it seemed, by the suggestions of his own 
 
 12
 
 224 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 conscience, beneath that lofty flight, which, in 
 o-eneral, he affected to sustain above the rest of 
 
 & ' 
 
 the sublunary world. 
 
 In this, however, he wronged Cromwell, who 
 was free either from an extreme degree of jea- 
 lous suspicion, or from anything which approach- 
 ed towards blood-thirstiness. Pearson appeared, 
 after lapse of about an hour, and, intimating to 
 Wildrake that he was to follow, conducted him 
 into a distant apartment, in which he found the 
 General seated on a low couch. His daughter 
 was in the apartment, but remained at some dis- 
 tance, seemed busied with some female work, and 
 scarce turned her head as Pearson and Wildrake 
 entered. 
 
 At a sign from the Lord General, Wildrake 
 approached him as before. " Friend," he said, 
 " your old friends the cavaliers look on me as 
 their enemy, and conduct themselves towards me 
 as if they desired to make me such. I profess 
 they are labouring to their own prejudice ; for I 
 regard, and have ever regarded them, as honest 
 and honourable fools, who were silly enough to 
 run their necks into nooses, and their heads 
 
 4>
 
 WOODSTOCK, 225 
 
 against stone-walls, that a man called Stuart, and 
 no other, should be king over them. Fools ! 
 are there no words made of letters that would 
 sound as well as Charles Stuart, with that magic 
 title beside them ? Why, the word King is like 
 a lighted lamp, that throws the same bright gild- 
 ing upon any combination of the alphabet, and 
 yet you must shed your blood for a name ! But 
 thou, for thy part, shalt have no wrong from me. 
 Here is an order, well warranted, to clear the 
 Lodge at Woodstock, and abandon it to thy mas- 
 ter's keeping, or those whom he shall appoint. 
 He will have his uncle and pretty cousin with 
 him, doubtless. Fare thee well — think on what 
 I told thee. They say beauty is a loadstone 
 to yonder long lad, thou dost wot of; but I 
 reckon he has other stars at present to direct his 
 course than bright eyes and fair hair. Be it as 
 it may, thou knowest my purpose— peer out, 
 peer out ; keep a constant and careful look-out 
 on every ragged patch that wanders by hedge- 
 row or lane— these are days when a beggar''s 
 cloak may cover a king's ransom. There are 
 some broad Portugal pieces for thee— something 
 VOL. r. p
 
 326 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 strange to thy pouch, I ween. — Once more, think 
 on what thou hast heard, and," he added, in a 
 lower and more impressive tone of voice, " for- 
 get what thou hast seen. My service to thy mas- 
 ter; — and, yet once again, remember — and^r- 
 ^^^.■^— Wildrake made his obeisance, and, re- 
 turning to his inn, left Windsor with all possible 
 speed. 
 
 It was afternoon in the same day when the 
 cavalier rejoined his round-head friend, who was 
 anxiously expecting him at the inn in Woodstock 
 appointed for their rendezvous. 
 
 " Where hast thou been? — what hast thou 
 seen ? — what strange uncertainty is in thy looks ? 
 —and why dost thou not answer me ?" 
 
 ** Because," said Wildrake, laying aside his 
 riding cloak and rapier, " you ask so many 
 questions at once. A man has but one tongue 
 to answer with, and mine is well nigh glued to 
 the roof of my mouth." 
 
 *' Will drink unloosen it ?" said the Colonel ; 
 " though I dare say thou hast tried that spell at 
 every ale-house on the road. Call for what thou 
 would'st have, marf, only be quick."
 
 WOODSTOCK. )iZi 
 
 *' Colonel Everard," answered Wildrake, " 1 
 have not tasted so much as a cup of cold watev 
 thi« day." 
 
 " Then thou art out of humour for that rea- 
 son," said the Colonel ; " salve thy sore with 
 brandy, if thou wilt, but leave being so fantastic 
 and unlike to thyself, as thou showest in this 
 silent mood." 
 
 " Colonel Everard," replied the cavalier, very 
 gravely, " I am an altered man." 
 
 " I think thou dost alter every day in the 
 year, and every hour of the day. Come, good 
 now, tell me hast thou seen the General, and got 
 his warrant for clearing out the sequestrators 
 from Woodstock ?" 
 
 " I have seen the devil," said Wildrake, " and 
 hast, as thou say'st, got a warrant from him." 
 
 " Give it me hastily," said Everard, catching 
 at the packet. 
 
 " Forgive me, Mark," said Wildrake; " if 
 thou knewest the purpose with which this deed 
 is granted — if thou knewest — what is not my 
 purpose to tell thee — what manner of hopes are 
 founded on thy accepting it, I have that opinion
 
 228 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 of thee, Mark Everard, that thou would'st as soon 
 take a red-hot horse-shoe from the anvil with thy 
 bare hand, as receive into it this sHp of paper." 
 " Come, come," said Everard, " this comes of 
 some of your exalted ideas of loyalty, which, 
 excellent Avithin certain bounds, drive us mad 
 when encouraged up to some heights. Do not 
 think, since I must needs speak plainly with thee, 
 that I see without sorrow the downfall of our* 
 ancient monarchy, and the substitution of an- 
 other form of government in its stead ; but 
 ought my regret for the past to prevent my ac- 
 quiescing and aiding in such measures as are 
 likely to settle the future ? The royal cause is 
 ruined, hadst thou and every cavalier in England 
 sworn the contrary ; ruined, not to rise again, — 
 for many a day at least. The Parliament, so 
 often draughted and drained of those who were 
 courageous enough to maintain their own free- 
 dom of opinion, is now reduced to a handful of 
 statesmen, who have lost the respect of the peo- 
 ple, from the length of time during which they 
 have held the supreme management of affairs. 
 They cannot stand long unless they were to 
 
 I
 
 WOODSTOCK. 229 
 
 reduce the army ; and the army, late servants, 
 are now masters, and will refuse to be reduced. 
 They know their strength, and that they may 
 be an army subsisting on pay and free quarters 
 throughout England as long as they will. I tell 
 thee, Wildrake, unless we look to the only man 
 who can rule and manage them, we may expect 
 military law throughout the land ; and I, for 
 mine own part, look for any preservation of our 
 privileges that may be vouchsafed to us, only 
 through the wisdom and forbearance of Crom- 
 well. Now you have my secret. You are aware 
 that I am not doing the best I would, but. the 
 best I can. I wish — not so ardently as thou, 
 perhaps — yet I do wish that the King could have 
 been restored on good terms of composition, safe 
 for us and for himself. And now, good Wild- 
 rake, rebel as thou thinkest me, make me no 
 worse a rebel than an unwilling one. God knows, 
 I never laid aside love and reverence to the King, 
 even in drawing my sword against his ill advi- 
 
 sers." 
 
 " Ah, plague on you,"" said Wildrake, " that 
 is the very cant of it— that's what you all say.
 
 230 WOODSTOOK. 
 
 All of you fought against the King in pure lov« 
 and loyalty, and not otherwise. However, I see 
 your drift, and I own that I like it better than 
 I expected. The army is your bear now, and 
 Old Noll is your bear ward ; and you are like a 
 <;ountry constable, who makes interest with the 
 bearward that he may prevent him fi-om letting 
 bruin loose. Well, there may come a day when 
 the sun will shine on our side of the fence, and 
 thereon shall you, and all the good fair-weather 
 folks who love the stronger party, come and 
 •make common cause with us."" 
 
 Without much attending to what his friend 
 said, Colonel Everard carefully studied the war- 
 rant of Cromwell. " It is bolder and more per- 
 emptory than I expected,"" he said. " The Ge- 
 neral must feel himself strong, when he opposes 
 his own authority so directly to that of the Coun- 
 cil of State and the Parliament." 
 
 " You will not hesitate to act upon it ?" said 
 Wildrake. 
 
 " That 1 certamly will not," answered Eve- 
 rard ; " but I must wait till I have the assistance 
 of the Mayor, who, I think, will gladly see these
 
 WOODSTOCK. 2Sl 
 
 fellows ejected from the Lodge. I muit not go 
 altogether upon military authority, if {possible." 
 Then stepping to the door of the apartment, he 
 dispatched a servant of the house in quest of the 
 Chief Magistrate, desiring he should be made 
 acquainted that Colonel Everard desired to see 
 him with as little loss of time as possible. 
 
 " You are sure he will come, like a dog at a 
 whistle," said Wildrake. " The word captain, 
 or colonel, makes the fat citizen trot in these 
 days, when one sword is wqrth fifty corporation 
 charters. But there are dragoons yonder, as 
 well as the grim-faced knave whom I frightened 
 the other evening when I showed my face in at 
 the window. Think'st thou the knaves will show 
 no rough play .''" 
 
 " The General's warrant will weigh more with 
 them than a dozen acts of Parliament," said Eve- 
 rard. — " But it is time thou eatest, if thou hast 
 in truth ridden from Windsor hither without 
 baiting." 
 
 " I care not about it," said Wildrake : " I 
 tell thee, your General gave me a breakfast, 
 which, I think, will serve me one while, if I cvei:
 
 S32 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 am able to digest it. By the mass, it lay so heavy 
 on my conscience, that I carried it to church to 
 see if I could digest it there with my other sins. 
 But not a whit." 
 
 " To church ! — to the door of the church, 
 thou meanest," said Everard. " I know thy way 
 — thou art ever wont to pull thy hat off reve- 
 rently at the threshold, but for crossing it, that 
 day seldom comes.** 
 
 « Well," replied Wildrake, « and if I do pull 
 off my castor and kneel, is it not seemly to show 
 the same respects in a church which we offer 
 in a palace? It is a dainty matter, is it not, 
 to see your Anabaptists, and Brownists, and the 
 rest of you, gather to a sermon with as little 
 ceremony as hogs to a trough ? But here comes 
 food, and now for a grace, if I can remember 
 one." 
 
 Everard was too much interested about the 
 fate of his uncle and his fair cousin, and the pro- 
 spect of restoring them to their quiet home, under 
 the protection of that formidable truncheon which 
 was already regarded as the leading-staff of Eng- 
 land, to remark, that certainly a great alteration
 
 WOODSTOCK. 233 
 
 had taken place in the manners and outward 
 behaviour, at least, of his companion. His de- 
 meanour frequently evinced a sort of struggle 
 betwixt old habits of indulgence, and some newly 
 formed resolutions of abstinence ; and it was 
 almost ludicrous to see how often the hand of 
 the neophyte directed itself naturally to a large 
 black leathern jack, which contained two double 
 flagons of strong ale, and how often, diverted 
 from its purpose by the better reflections of the 
 reformed toper, it seized, instead, upon a large 
 ewer of salubrious and pure water. : 
 
 It was easy to see that the task of sobriety 
 was not yet become easy, and that, if it had the 
 recommendation of the intellectual portion of 
 the party who had resolved upon it, the outward 
 man yielded a reluctant and restive compliance. 
 But honest Wildrake had been dreadfully fright- 
 ened at the course proposed to him by Crom- 
 well, and, with a feeling not peculiar to the Ca- 
 tholic religion, had formed a solemn resolution 
 within his own mind, that if he came off safe and 
 with honour from this dangerous interview, he 
 would show his sense of Heaven's favour, by
 
 1 
 
 J2S4 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 renouncing some of the sins which most easily 
 beset him, and especially that of intemperance, 
 to which, like many of his wild compeers, he was 
 too much addicted. 
 
 This resolution, or vow, was partly pruden- 
 tial as well as religious, for it occurred to him as 
 very possible, that some matters of a difficult and 
 delicate nature might be thrown into his hands 
 at the present emergency, during the conduct 
 of which it would be fitting for him to act by 
 some better oracle than that of the Bottle, cele- 
 brated by Rabelais. In full compliance with this 
 prudent determination, he touched neither the 
 ale nor the brandy which was placed before him, 
 and declined peremptorily the sack with which 
 his friend would have garnished the board. Ne- 
 vertheless, just as the boy removed the trenchers 
 and napkins, together with the large black jack 
 which we have already mentioned, and was one 
 or two steps on his way to the door, the sinewy 
 arm of the cavalier, which seemed to elongate 
 itself on purpose, (as it extended far beyond the 
 folds of the thread-bare jacket,) arrested the pro- 
 gress of the retiring Ganymede, and seizing on
 
 WOODSTOCK. 235 
 
 the black jack, conveyed it to the hps, whicli were 
 gently breathing forth the aspiration, " D — n 
 — I mean, Heaven forgive me — we are poor 
 <:reatures of clay— one modest sip must be per- 
 Jiiitted to our frailty." 
 
 So murmuring, he glued the huge flagon to 
 his lips ; and as the head was slowly and gra- 
 dually inclined backwards, in proportion as the 
 right hand elevated the bottom of the pitcher, 
 Everard had great doubts whether the drinker 
 and the cup were likely to' part until the whole 
 contents of the latter had been transferred to the 
 person of the former. Roger Wildi'ake stinted, 
 however, when by a moderate computation he 
 had swallowed at one draught about a quart and 
 a half 
 
 He then replaced it on the salver, fetched a 
 long breath to refresh his lungs, bade the boy 
 get him gone with the rest of the liquors, in a 
 tone which inferred some dread of his constancy, 
 and then, turning to his friend Everard, he ex- 
 patiated in praise of moderation, observing, that 
 the mouthful which he had just taken had been 
 of more service to him than if he had remained
 
 236 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 quaffing liealths at table for four hours toge- 
 ther. 
 
 His friend made no reply, but could not help 
 being privately of opinion, that Wildrake''s tem- 
 perance had done as much execution on the tan- 
 kard in his single draught, as some more mode- 
 rate topers might have effected if they had sat 
 sipping for an evening. But the subject was 
 changed by the entrance of the landlord, who 
 came to announce to his honour Colonel Eve- 
 rard, that the worshipful Mayor of Woodstock, 
 with the Rev. Master Holdenough, were come 
 to wait upon him.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 237 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 — — " Here have we one head 
 Upon two bodies — your two-headed bullock 
 Is but an ass to such a prodif;y. 
 
 These two have but one meaning, thought, and counsel ; 
 And, when the single noddle has spoke out, 
 The four legs scrape assent to it." 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 In the goodly form of the honest Mayor, there 
 was a busthng mixture of importance and embar- 
 rassment, like the deportment of a man who was 
 conscious that he had an important part to act, 
 if he could but exactly discover what that part 
 was. But both were mingled with much pleasure 
 at seeing Everard, and he frequently repeated 
 his welcomes and all-hails before he could be 
 brought to attend to what that gentleman said in 
 reply. 
 
 " Good worthy Colonel, you are indeed a de- 
 sirable sight to Woodstock at all times, being, as 
 I may say, almost our townsman, as you have
 
 238 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 dwelt 50 much and so long at the palace. Truly, 
 the matter begins almost to pass my wit, though 
 I have transacted the affairs of this borough for 
 many a long day ; and you are come to my as- 
 sistance like, like——" 
 
 ** Tanquam Deus ex macJiina, as the Ethnic 
 poet hath it," said Master Holdenough, *' al- 
 though I do not often quote from such books. — 
 Indeed, Master Markham Everard — or worthy 
 Colonel, as I ought rather to say — you are sim- 
 ply the most welcome man who has come to 
 Woodstock since the days of old King Harry." 
 
 " I had some business with you, my good 
 friend," said the Colonel, addressing the Mayor; 
 ** I shall be glad if it should so happen at the 
 same time, that I may find occasion to pleasure 
 you or your worthy pastor." 
 
 " No question you can do so, good sir," inter- 
 posed Master Holdenough ; " you have the heart, 
 sir, and you have the hand ; and we are much in 
 want of good counsel, and that from a man of ac- 
 tion. I am aware, worthy Colonel, that you and 
 your worthy father have ever borne yourselves 
 in these turmoils like men of a truly Christian 
 and moderate spirit, striving to pour oil into the
 
 WOODSTOCK. 339 
 
 wounds of tlie land, which some would rub with 
 vitriol and pepper ; and we know you are faith- 
 ful children of the church we have reformed 
 from its papistical and prelatical tenets." 
 
 « My good and reverend friend," said Eve- 
 rard, " I respect the piety and learning of many 
 of your teachers ; but I am also for liberty of 
 conscience to all men. I neither side with secta- 
 ries, nor do I desire to see them the object of 
 suppression by violence." 
 
 " Sir, sir," said the Presbyterian hastily, " all 
 this hath a fair sound ; but I would you should 
 think what a fine country and church we are like 
 to have of it, amidst the errors, blasphemies, and 
 schisms, which are daily introduced into the 
 church and kingdom of England, so that worthy 
 Master Edwards, in his Gangrena, declareth, that 
 our native country is about to become the very 
 sink and cess-pool of all schisms, heresies, blas- 
 phemies, and confusions, as the army of Hannibal 
 was said to be the refuse of all nations — Colluvies 
 omnium gentium. — Believe me, worthy Colonel, 
 that they of the Honourable House view all this 
 over lightly, and with the winking connivance of 
 
 19
 
 240 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 old Eli. These instructors, the schismatics, shoul- 
 der the orthodox ministers out of their pulpits, 
 thrust themselves into families, and break up the 
 peace thereof, stealing away men's hearts from 
 the established faith." 
 
 « My good Master Holdenough," replied the 
 Colonel, interrupting the zealous preacher, "there 
 is ground of sorrow for all these unhappy dis- 
 cords ; and I hold with you, that the fiery spirits 
 of the present time, have raised men's minds at 
 once above sober-minded and sincere religion, 
 and above decorum and common sense. But 
 there is no help save patience. Enthusiasm is a 
 stream that may foam off in its own time, wh'fere- 
 as it is sure to bear down every barrier which is 
 directly opposed to it.-^But what are these schis- 
 matical proceedings to our present purpose ?"" 
 
 " Why, partly this, sir," said Holdenough, 
 " although perhaps you may make less of it than 
 I should have thought before we met. — I was 
 myself — I, Nehemiah Holdenough, (he added, 
 consequentially,) was forcibly expelled from my 
 own pulpit, even as a man should have been 
 thrust out of his own house by an alien, and 
 
 7
 
 WOODSTOCK. ;^41 
 
 an intruder, a wolf, who was not at the trouble 
 even to put on sheep's clothing, but came in 
 his native wolfish attire of buiF and bandalier, 
 and held forth in my stead to the people, who 
 are to me as a flock to the lawful shepherd. It 
 is too true, sir — Master Mayor saw it, and strove 
 to take such order to prevent it as man might, 
 though," turning to the Mayor, " I think still you 
 might have striven a little more." 
 
 " Good now, good Master Holdenough, do not 
 let us go back on that question," said the Mayor. 
 " Guy of Warwick, or Bevis of Hampton, might 
 do something with this generation; but truly, 
 they are too many and too strong for the Mayor 
 of Woodstock." 
 
 " I think Master Mayor speaks very good 
 sense," said the Colonel ; " if the Independents 
 are not allowed to preach, I fear me they will not 
 fight; — and then if you were to have another ri- 
 sing of cavaliers ?" 
 
 " There are worse folks may rise than cava- 
 liers," said Holdenough. 
 
 " How, sir .?" replied Colonel Everard. ^' Let 
 
 VOL. I, Q,
 
 242 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 me remind you, Master Holdenough, that is no 
 safe language in the present state of the nation." 
 
 " I say," said the Presbyterian, " there are 
 worse folks may rise than cavaliers ; and I will 
 prove what I say. The devil is worse than the 
 worst cavalier that ever drunk a health, or swore 
 an oath — and the devil has arisen at Woodstock 
 Lodge !" 
 
 " Ay, truly hath he," said the Mayor, " bo- 
 dily and visibly, in figure and form— An awful 
 time we live in !" 
 
 " Gentlemen, I really know not how I am to 
 understand you," said Everard. 
 
 " Why, it was even about the devil we came 
 to speak with you," said the Mayor; " but the 
 worthy minister is always so hot upon the secta- 
 ries ^" 
 
 " Which are the devil's brats, and nearly akin 
 to him," said Master Holdenough. " But true it 
 is, that the growth of these sects has brought up 
 the Evil One even upon the face of the earth, to 
 look after his own interest, where he finds it most 
 thriving." 
 
 " Master Holdenough," said the Colonel, " if
 
 WOODSTOCK. 243 
 
 you speak figuratively, I have already told you 
 that I have neither the means nor the skill suffi- 
 cient to temper these religious heats. But if you 
 design to say that there has been an actual appa- 
 rition of the devil, I presume to think that you, 
 with your doctrine and your learning, would be 
 a fitter match for him than a soldier like me." 
 
 " True, sir ; and I have that confidence in the 
 commission which I hold, that I would take the 
 field against the foul fiend without a moment's 
 delay,"" said Holdenough ; " but the place in 
 which he hath of late appeared, being Wood- 
 stock, is filled with those dangerous and impious 
 persons, of whom I have been but now complain- 
 ing ; and though I dare venture in disputation 
 with their Great Master himself, yet without your 
 protection, most worthy Colonel, I see not that 
 I may with prudence trust myself with the toss- 
 ing and goring ox Desborough, or the bloody 
 and devouring bear Harrison, or the cold and 
 poisonous snake Bletson— all of whom are now 
 at the Lodge, doing license and taking spoil as 
 they think meet ; and, as all men say, the devil 
 has come to make a fourth with them."
 
 244 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " In good truth, worthy and noble sir," said 
 the M-^^vor. " it 's even a^ Master Holdenough 
 sa\>p-~our privileges are declared vo-d, our caitle 
 seized m the very pastures. They talk of cutting 
 down and disparking the fair Chase, which has 
 been so long the pleasure of so many kings, and 
 making Woodstock of as little note as any paltry 
 village. I assure you we heard of your arrival 
 with joy, and wondered at your keeping yourself 
 so close in your lodgings. We know no one save 
 your father or you, that are like to stand the 
 poor burgesses' friend in this extremity, since al- 
 most all the gentry around are malignants, and 
 under sequestration. We trust, therefore, you 
 will make strong intercession in our behalf." 
 
 " Certainly, Master Mayor," said the Colonel, 
 who saw himself with pleasure anticipated ; " it 
 was my very purpose to have interfered in this 
 matter ; and I did but keep myself alone until 
 I should be furnished with some authority from 
 the Lord General." 
 
 '< Powers from the Lord General !" said the 
 Mayor, thrusting the clergyman with his elbow 
 — « Dost thou hear that .?— What cock will fight
 
 WOODjITOCK. S46 
 
 that cock ? We shall carry it now over their 
 necks, and Woodstock shall be brave Woodstock 
 still 1" 
 
 " Keep thine elbow from my side, friend,'* 
 said Holdenough, annoyed by the action which 
 the Mayor had suited to his words ; " and may 
 the Lord send that Cromwell prove not as sharp 
 to the people of England as thy bones against 
 my person ! Yet I approve that we should use 
 his authority to stop the course of these men's 
 proceedings.*" 
 
 " Let us set out then," said Colonel Everard ; 
 <* and I trust we shall find the gentlemen reason- 
 able and obedient.'" 
 
 The functionaries, laic and clerical, assented 
 with much joy ; and the Colonel required and 
 received Wildrake's assistance in putting on his 
 cloak and rapier, as if he had been the depend- 
 ant whose part he acted. The cavalier contrived, 
 however, while doing him these menial offices, to 
 give his friend a shrewd pinch, in order to main- 
 tain the footing erf secret equality betwixt them. 
 
 The Colonel was saluted, as they passed through 
 the streets, by many of the anxious inhabitants^
 
 246 AVOODSTOCK, 
 
 who seemed to consider his intervention as afford- 
 ing the only chance of saving their fine Park, and 
 the rights of the corporation, as well as of indi- 
 viduals, from ruin and confiscation. 
 
 As they entered the Park, the Colonel asked 
 his companions, *' What is this you say of ap- 
 paritions being seen amongst them ?" 
 
 " Why, Colonel," said the clergyman, " you 
 know yourself that Woodstock was always haunt- 
 ed ?" 
 
 " I have lived therein many a day," said the 
 Colonel; " and I know that I never saw the 
 least sign of it, although, idle people spoke of the 
 house as they do of all old mansions, and gave 
 the apartments ghosts and spectres to fill up the 
 places of the deceased great, who had ever dwelt 
 there." 
 
 " Nay, but, good Colonel," said the clergyman, 
 *' I trust you have not reached the prevailing sin 
 of the times, and become indifferent to the testi- 
 mony in favour of apparitions, which appears so 
 conclusive to all but atheists, and advocates for 
 witches .''" 
 
 " I would not absolutely disbelieve what is so
 
 WOOi) STOCK. 247 
 
 generally affirmed," said the Colonel ; " but my 
 temper leads me to doubt most of the stories 
 which I have heard of this sort, and my own ex- 
 perience never went to confirm any of them." 
 
 " Ay, but trust me," said Holdenough, " there 
 was always a demon of one or the other species 
 about this Woodstock. Not a man or woman in 
 the town but has heard stories of apparitions in 
 the forest, or about the old castle. Sometimes it. 
 is a pack of hounds that sweep along, and the. 
 whoops and hollos of the huntsman, and the 
 winding of horns and the galloping of horse, 
 which is heard as if first more distant, and then 
 close around you — and then anon it is a solitary 
 huntsman, who asks if you can tell him which 
 way the stag has gone. He is always dressed in 
 green ; but the fashion of his clothes is some five 
 hundred years old. This is what we call Demon 
 Meridian um — the noonday spectre." 
 
 *' My worthy and reverend sir," said the Co- 
 lonel, " I have lived at Woodstock many seasons, 
 and have traversed the Chase at all hours. Trust 
 me, what you hear from the villagers is the growth 
 of their idle folly and superstition." 
 
 " Colonel," replied Holdenough, " a negative
 
 mS WOODSTOCK. 
 
 proves nothing. What signifies, craving your 
 pardon, that you have not seen anything, be it 
 earthly, or be it of the other world, to detract from 
 the evidence of a score of people who have ?— 
 And, besides, there is the Demon Nocturnum— 
 the being that walketh by night — He has been 
 among these Independents and schismatics last 
 night.— Ay, Colonel, you may stare ; but it is 
 even so— they may try whether he will mend 
 their gifts, as they profanely call them, of expo- 
 sition and prayer. No, sir, I trow, to master the 
 foul fiend there goeth some competent knowledge 
 of theology, and an acquaintance with the hu- 
 mane letters, ay, and a regular clerical education, 
 and clerical calling."^ 
 
 " I do not in the least doubt," said the Colonel, 
 " the efficacy of your qualifications to lay the 
 devil ; but still I think some odd mistake has oc- 
 casioned this confusion amongst them, if there 
 lias any such in reality existed. Desborough is a 
 blockhead, to be sure ; and Harrison is fanatic 
 enough to believe anything. But there is Blet- 
 son, on the other hand, who believes nothing. — 
 What do you know of this matter, good Master 
 Mayor ?''
 
 WOODSTOCK. 249 
 
 " In sooth, and it was Master Bletson who gave 
 the iirst alarm," replied the magistrate, " or, at 
 least, the first distinct one. You see, sir, I was 
 in bed with my wife, and no one else ; and I was 
 as fast asleep as a man can desire to be at two 
 hours after midnight, when,behold you, they came 
 knocking at my bed-room door, to tell me there 
 was an alarm in Woodstock, and that the bell of 
 the Lodge was ringing at that dead hour of the 
 night, as hard as ever it rung when it called the 
 court to dinner." 
 
 " Well, but the cause of this alarm ?" said the 
 Colonel. 
 
 ** You shall hear, worthy Colonel, you shall 
 hear," answered Uie Mayor, waving his hand 
 with dignity ; for he was one of those persons 
 who will not be hurried out of their own pace. 
 *' So Mrs Mayor would have persuaded me, in 
 her love and affection, poor wretch, that to rise 
 at such an hour out of my warm bed, was like 
 to bring on my old complaint the lumbago, and 
 that I should send the people to Alderman But- 
 ton. — Alderman Devil, Mrs Mayor, said I ; — 
 J beg your reverence's pardon for using such a
 
 250 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 phrase— Do you think I am going to lie a-bed 
 when the town is on fire, and the cavaliers up, 
 and the devil to pay ? — I beg pardon again, par- 
 son. — But, here we are before the gate of the 
 Palace ; will it not please you to enter?" 
 
 " I would first hear the end of your story,", 
 said the Colonel ; " that is, Master Mayor, if it 
 happens to have an end." 
 
 " Everything hath an end," said the Mayor, 
 " and that which we call a pudding hath two.— 
 Your worship will forgive me for being facetious. 
 Where was I ? — O, I jumped out of bed, and 
 put on my red plush breeches, with the blue ne- 
 ther stocks, for I always make a point of being 
 dressed suitably to my dignity, night and day, 
 summer or winter, Colonel Everard ; and I took 
 the constable along with me, in case the alarm 
 should be raised by night-walkers or thieves, and 
 called up worthy Master Holdenough out of his 
 bed, in case it should turn out to be the devil. 
 And so I thought I was provided for the worst 
 — and so away we came ; and, by and by, the sol- 
 diers, who came to the town with Master Tom- 
 kins, who had been called to arms, came marching
 
 WOODSTOCK. 251 
 
 down to Woodstock as fast as their feet would 
 carry them ; so I gave our people the sign to let 
 them pass us, and outmarch us, as it were, and 
 this for a twofold reason." 
 
 " I will be satisfied," interrupted the Colonel, 
 " with one good reason. You desired the red- 
 coats should have \h.ejirst of the fray." 
 
 " True, sir, very true ; — and also that they 
 should have the last of it, in respect that fighting 
 is their especial business. However, we came on 
 at a slow pace, as men who are determined to do 
 their duty without fear or favour, when sudden- 
 ly we saw something white haste away up the 
 avenue towards the town, when six of our con- 
 stables and assistants fled at once, as conceiving 
 it to be an apparition called the White Woman 
 of Woodstock." 
 
 " Look you there. Colonel," said Master Hold- 
 enough, " I told you there were demons of more 
 kinds than one, which haunt the ancient scenes of 
 royal debauchery and cruelty." 
 
 " I hope you stood your own ground, Master 
 Mayor ?" said the Colonel. 
 
 " I— yes— most assuredly — that is, I did not,
 
 262 WOODSTOCKo 
 
 strict!}' speaking, keep my ground ; but the town- 
 clerk and I retreated — retreated, Colonel, and 
 without confusion or dishonour, and took post be- 
 hind worthy Master Holdenough, who, with the 
 spirit of a lion, threw himself in the way of the 
 supposed spectre, and attacked it with such a 
 siserary of Jiatin as might have scared the devil 
 himself, and thereby plainly discovered that it 
 "was no devil at all, nor white woman, neither 
 woman of any colour, but worshipful Master Blet- 
 son, a member of the House of Commons, and 
 one of the commissioners sent hither upon this 
 unhappy sequestration of the Wood, Chase, and 
 Lodge of Woodstock." 
 
 " And this was all you saw of the demon ?" 
 said the Colonel. 
 
 " Truly, yes," answered the Mayor ; "and I 
 had no wish to see more. However, we conveyed 
 Master Bletson, as in duty bound, back to the 
 Lodge, and he was ever maundering by the way 
 how that he met a party of scarlet devils incarnate 
 marching down to the Lodge ; but, to my poor 
 thinking, it must have been the independent dra- 
 goons who had just passed us."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 25S 
 
 "And more incarnate devils I would never 
 wish to see," said Wildrake, who could remain 
 silent no longer. His voice, so suddenly heard, 
 showed how much the Mayor's nerves were still 
 alarmed, for he started and jumped aside with an 
 alacrity of which no one would at first sight sup- 
 pose a man of his portly dignity to have been 
 capable. Everard imposed silence on his intru- 
 sive attendant ; and, desirous to hear the conclu- 
 sion of this strange story, requested the Mayor 
 to tell him how the matter ended, and whether 
 they stopped the supposed spectre. 
 
 " Truly, worthy sir," said the Mayor, " Mas- 
 ter Holdenough was quite venturous upon con- 
 fronting, as it were, the devil, and compelling 
 him to appear under the real form of Master 
 Joshua Bletson, member of Parliament for the 
 borough of Littlefaith." 
 
 " In sooth, Master Mayor," said the divine, " I 
 were strangely ignorant of my own commission 
 and its immunities, if I were to value opposing 
 myself to Satan, or any independent in his like- 
 ness, all of whom, in the name of Him I serve, 
 I do defy, spit at, and trample under my feet ;
 
 254 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and because Master Mayor is something tedious, 
 I will briefly inform your honour that we saw 
 httle of the Enemy that night, save what Master 
 Bletson said in the first feeUng of his terrors, and 
 save what we might collect from the disordered 
 appearanceof the honourable Colonel Desborough 
 and Major-General Harrison." 
 
 " And what plight were they in, I pray you ?" 
 demanded the Colonel. 
 
 " Why, worthy sir, every one might see with 
 half an eye that they had been engaged in a fight 
 wherein they had not been honoured with vic- 
 tory, seeing that General Harrison was stalking 
 up and down the parlour, with his drawn sword 
 in his hand, talking to himself, his doublet un- 
 buttoned, his points untrussed, his garters loose, 
 and like to throw him down as he now and then 
 trod on them, and gaping and grinning like a 
 mad player. And yonder sate Desborough with 
 a dry pottle of sack before him, which he had just 
 emptied, and which, though the element in which 
 he trusted, had not restored him sense enough to 
 speak, or courage enough to look over his shoul- 
 der. He bad a Bible in his hand forsooth, as if it 
 
 J
 
 WOODSTOCK. 255 
 
 would make battle against the Evil One ; but I 
 peered over his shoulder, and, alas ! the good 
 gentleman held the bottom of the page upper- 
 most. It was as if one of your musketeers, no- 
 ble and valued sir, were to present the butt of 
 his piece at the enemy instead of the muzzle— 
 ha, ha, ha ! it was a sight to judge of schismatics 
 by ; both in point of head, and in point of heart, 
 in point of skill and in point of courage. — Oh ! 
 Colonel, then was the time to see the true cha- 
 racter of an authorized pastor of souls over those 
 unhappy men, who leap into the fold without due 
 and legal authority, and will, forsooth, preach, 
 teach, and exhort, and blasphemously term the 
 doctrine of the church saltless porridge and dry 
 chips." 
 
 ** I have no doubt you were ready to meet the 
 danger, reverend sir ; but I would fain know of 
 what nature it was, and from whence it was to be 
 apprehended ?" 
 
 " Was it for me to make such inquiry .?" said 
 the clergyman, triumphantly. " Is it for a brave 
 soldier to number his enemies, or inquire from 
 what quarter they are to come ? — No, sir, I was 
 
 10
 
 M6 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 there with match lighted, bullet in my mouth, 
 and my liarquebuss shouldered, to encounter as 
 many devils as hell could pour in, were they 
 countless as motes in the sunbeam, and came 
 from all points of the compass. The papists talk 
 of the temptation of St Anthony — pshaw ! let 
 them double all the myriads which the brain of a 
 crazy Dutch painter hath invented, and you will 
 find a poor Presbyterian divine — I will answer 
 for one at least, — who, not in his own strength, 
 but his Master's, will receive the assault in such 
 sort, that far from returning against him as against 
 yonder poor hound, day after day, and night af- 
 ter night, he will at once pack them off as with 
 a vengeance to the uttermost parts of Assyria." 
 
 " Still," said the Colonel, « I pray to know 
 whether you saw anything upon which to exer- 
 cise your pious learning ?" 
 
 " Saw ?" answered the divine ; " no, truly, I 
 saw nothing, nor did I look for anything. Thieves 
 will not attack well-armed travellers, nor will de- 
 vils or evil spirits come against one who bears in 
 his bosom the word of truth, in the very language 
 in which it was first dictated. No, sir, they shun 
 
 14
 
 WOODSTOCK. 257 
 
 a divine who can understand the holy text, as a 
 crow is said to keep wide of a ^un loaded with 
 hail-shot." 
 
 They had walked a little Avay back upon their 
 road, to give time for this conversation ; and tlie 
 Colonel, perceiving it was about to lead to no sa- 
 tisfactory explanation of the real cause of alarm 
 on the preceding night, turned round, and ob- 
 serving it was time they should go to the Lodge, 
 began to move in that direction with his three 
 companions. 
 
 It was now becoming dark, and the towers of 
 Woodstock arose high above the umbrageous 
 shroud which the forest spread around the an- 
 cient and venerable mansion. From one of the 
 highest turrets, which could still be distinguished 
 as it rose against the clear blue sky, there gleam- 
 ed a light like that of a candle within the build- 
 ing. The Mayor stopt short, and catching fast 
 hold of the divine, and then of Colonel Everard, 
 exclaimed, in a trembling and hasty, but sup- 
 pressed tone, " Do you see yonder light .'''" 
 
 " Ay, marry do I,"" said Colonel Everard ; 
 " and what does that matter ? — a light in a gar- 
 
 VOT,. I. R
 
 S58 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 rct-roora of such an old mansion as Woodstock 
 is no subject for wonder, I trow." 
 
 " But a light from Rosamond's Tower is sure- 
 ly so," said the Mayor. 
 
 " True," said the Colonel, something surpri- 
 sed, when, after a careful examination, he sa- 
 tisfied himself that the wortliy magistrate's con- 
 jecture was real. " That is indeed Rosamond's 
 Tower ; and as the drawbridge by which it was 
 accessible has been destroyed for centuries, it is 
 hard to say what chance could have lighted a 
 lamp in such an inaccessible place." 
 
 " That light burns with no earthly fuel," said 
 the Mayor; " neither from whale nor olive, nor 
 bees-wax, nor mutton-suet either. I dealt in 
 these commodities, Colonel, before I went into 
 my present line ; and I can assure you I could 
 distinguish the sort of light they give, one from 
 another, at a greater distance than yonder turret 
 — Look you, that is no earthly flame. — See you 
 not something blue and reddish upon the edges ? 
 — that bodes full well where it comes from. — 
 Colonel, in my opinion we had better go back to 
 sup at the town, and leave the Devil and the
 
 WOODSTOCK. 259 
 
 i"ed-coats to settle tlieir matters together for to- 
 night ; and then when we come back the next 
 morning, we will have a pull with the party that 
 chances to keep a-field." 
 
 *' You will do as you please, Master Mayor," 
 said Everard, " but my duty requires me that I 
 should see the Commissioners to night." 
 
 " And mine requires mg to see the foul Fiend," 
 said Master Holdenough, " if he dare make him- 
 self visible to me. I wonder not that, knowing 
 who is approaching, he betakes himself to the very 
 citadel, the inner and the last defences of this 
 ancient and haunted mansion. He is dainty, I 
 warrant you, and must dwell where is a relish of 
 luxury and murder about the walls of his cham- 
 ber. In yonder turret sinned Rosamond, and 
 in yonder turret she suffered ; and there she sits, 
 or, more likely, the Enemy in her shape, as I 
 have heard true men of Woodstock tell. — I wait 
 on you, good Colonel — Master Mayor will do as 
 he pleases. The strong man hath fortified him- 
 self in his dwelling-house, but, lo, there comes 
 another stronger than he." 
 
 " For mc," said the Mayor, " who am as un-
 
 260 M'oonsToric. 
 
 learned as I am unwarlike, I will not engage either 
 with the Powers of the Earth, or the Prince of 
 the Powers of the Air, and I will go back to 
 Woodstock ; — and hark ye, good fellow," slap- 
 ping Wildrake on the shoulder, " I will bestow 
 on thee a shilling wet and a shilling dry if thou 
 wilt go with me."" 
 
 '* Gadzookers, Master Mayor," said Wild- 
 rake, neither flattered by the magistrate''s fami- 
 liarity of address, nor captivated by his muni- 
 ficence — ** I wonder who the devil made you 
 and nje fellows? and, besides, do you think I 
 would go back to Woodstock with your worship- 
 ful cod's-head, when, by good management, I 
 may get a peep of fair Rosamond, and see whe- 
 ther she was that choice and incomparable piece of 
 ware which the world has been told of by rhymers 
 and ballad-makers ?" 
 
 " Speak less lightly and wantonly, friend," 
 said the divine ; " we are to resist the Devil that 
 he may flee from us, and not to tamper with 
 him, or enter into his counsels, or traffic with the 
 merchandize of his great Vanity Fair." 
 
 *' Mind what the good man says, Wildrake,"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 261 
 
 said the Colonel, " and take heed another time 
 how thou dost suffer thy wit to outrun discre- 
 tion." 
 
 " I am beholden to the reverend gentleman 
 for his advice," answered Wildrake, upon whose 
 tongue it was difficult to impose any curb what- 
 ever, even when his own safety rendered it most 
 desirable. " But, gadzookers, let him have had 
 what experience he will in fighting with the De- 
 vil, he never saw one so black as I had a tussle 
 with— not a hundred years ago." 
 
 " How, friend," said the clergyman, who un- 
 derstood everything literally when apparitions 
 were mentioned, " have you had so late a visi- 
 tation of Satan ? Believe me, then, that I won- 
 der why thou darest to entertain his name so 
 often and so lightly, as I see thou dost use it in 
 thy ordinary discourse. But when and where 
 didst thou see the Evil One ?" 
 
 Everard hastily interposed, lest, by something 
 yet more strongly alluding to Cromwell, his im- 
 prudent squire should, in mere wantonness, be- 
 tray his interview with the General. " The 
 young man raves," he said, " of a dream which
 
 262 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 he had the other night, when he and I slept to- 
 gether in Victor Lee's chamber, belonging to the 
 ranger's apartments at the Lodge." 
 
 '' Thanks for help at a pinch, good patron," 
 said Wildrake, whispering into Everard's ear, 
 who in vain endeavoured to shake him off,—" a 
 fib never failed a fanatic."'" 
 
 " You, also, spoke something too lightly of 
 these matters, considering the work which we 
 have in hand, worthy Colonel," said the Presby- 
 terian divine. *' Believe me, the young man, 
 thy servant, was more like to see visions than to 
 dream merely idle dreams in that apartment ; 
 for I have always heard, that, next to Rosa- 
 mond's Tower, in which, as I said, she played 
 the wanton, and was after ward's poisoned by 
 Queen Eleanor, Victor Lee's chamber was the 
 place in the Lodge of Woodstock more peculiar- 
 ly the haunt of evil spirits. I pray you, young 
 man, tell me this dream or vision of yours." 
 
 " With all my heart, sir," said Wildrake — 
 then addressing his patron, who began to inter-* 
 fere, he said, '* Tush, sir, you have had the dis^ 
 course for an hour, and why should not I hold
 
 WOODSTOCK. 263 
 
 iori\\ ill my turn ? By this darkness, if you keep 
 me silent any longer I will turn Independent 
 preacher, and stand up in your despite for the 
 freedom of private judgment.— And so, reverend 
 sir, I was dreaming of a carnal divertisement call- 
 ed a bull-baiting ; and methought there were 
 venturing dogs at head, as merrily as e'er I saw 
 them at Tutbury-Bull-running ; and methought 
 I heard some one say, there was the Devil come to 
 have a sightof the bull-ring. Well, I thought that, 
 gadswoons, I would have a peep at his Infernal 
 Majesty, So I looked, and there was a butcher in 
 greasy woollen, with his steel by his side ; but he 
 was none of the Devil. And there was a drunken 
 cavalier, with his mouth full of oaths, and his 
 stomach full of emptiness, and a gold-laced waist- 
 coat in a very dilapidated condition, and a rag- 
 ged hat, with a piece of a feather in it ; and he 
 was none of the Devil neither. And here was a 
 miller, his hands dusty with meal, and every 
 atom of it stolen : and there was a vintner, his 
 green apron stained with wine, and every drop 
 of it sophisticated ; but neither was the old gen- 
 tleman I looked for to be detected among those
 
 264 WOOIiSTOCK. 
 
 artizans of iniquity. At length, sir, I saw a 
 grave person with cropped hair, a pair of longish 
 and projecting ears, a band as broad as a slob- 
 bering bib under his chin, a brown coat sur- 
 mounted by a Geneva cloak, and I had old 
 Nicholas at once in his genuine paraphernalia, 
 
 by ." 
 
 " Shame, shame l"" said Colonel Everard. 
 '* What ! behave thus to an old gentleman and a 
 divine !"— 
 
 " Nay, let him proceed," said the minister, with 
 perfect equanimity, " if thy friend, or secretary, 
 is gibing, I must have less patience than be- 
 comes my profession, if I could not bear an idle 
 jest, and forgive him who makes it. Or if, on 
 the other hand, the Enemy has really presented 
 himself to the young man in such a guise as 
 he intimates, wherefore should we be surprised 
 that he, who can take upon him the form of an 
 angel of light, should be able to assume that of 
 a frail and peccable mortal, whose spiritual call- 
 ing and profession ought, indeed, to induce him 
 to make his life an example to others ; but whose 
 conduct, nevertheless, such is the imperfection of
 
 WOODSTOCK. 265 
 
 our unassisted nature, sometimes rather presents 
 us with a warning of wliat we should shun P''"' 
 
 " Now, by the mass, honest dominie — I mean 
 reverend sir — I crave you a thousand pardons," 
 said Wildrake, penetrated by the quietness and 
 patience of the presbyter''s rebuke. " By St 
 George, if quiet patience will do it, thou art fit 
 to play a game at foils with the Devil himself, 
 and I would be contented to hold stakes." 
 
 As he concluded an apology, which was cer- 
 tainly not uncalled for, and seemed to be recei- 
 ved in perfectly good part, they approached so 
 close to the exterior door of the Lodge, that they 
 were challenged with the emphatic Standi by a 
 sentinel who mounted guard there. Colonel 
 Everard replied, AJriend; and the sentinel re- 
 peating his command, '• Stand, friend," proceed- 
 ed to call the corporal of the guard. The cor- 
 poral came forth, and at the same time turned 
 out his guard. Colonel Everard gave his name 
 and designation, as well as those of his compa- 
 nions, on which the corporal said, " he doubt- 
 ed not there would be orders for his instant ad- 
 mission ; but, in the first place, Mr Tomkin;?.
 
 ^66 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 must be consulted, that he might leani their 
 honours' mind." 
 
 * " How, sir !" said the Colonel, " do you, 
 knowing who I am, presume to keep me on the 
 outside of your post ?'' 
 
 " Not, if your honour pleases to enter," said 
 the corporal, " and undertakes to be my warran- 
 ty ; but such are the orders of my post." 
 
 " Nay, then, do your duty," said the Colonel; 
 " but are the cavaliers up, or what is the mat- 
 tor, that you keep so close and strict a watch r" 
 
 The fellow gave no distinct answer, but mut- 
 tered between his moustaches something about 
 the Enemy, and the roaring Lion who goeth 
 about seeking what he may devour. Presently 
 afterwards Tomkins appeared, followed by two 
 servants bearing lights in great standing brass 
 candlesticks. They marched before Colonel Evc- 
 rard and his party, keeping as close to each other 
 as two cloves of the same orange, and starting 
 from time to time, and shouldering as they pass- 
 ed through sundry intricate passages, they led 
 up a large and ample wooden staircase, the ba- 
 nisters, rail, and lining of which were executed
 
 WOODSTOCK. !^7 
 
 in black oak, and finally into a long salooiL, oi 
 parlour, where there was a prodigious fire, and 
 about twelve candles of the largest size distribu- 
 ted in sconces against the wall. There were seated 
 the Commissioners, who now held in their power 
 the ancient mansion and royal domain of Wood, 
 stock,
 
 168 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Pi. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The bloody bear, an independent beast, 
 Unlick'd to forms, in groans he had express'd— 
 
 Next him the buffoon ape, as atheists use, 
 Mimick'd all sects, and had his own to choose. 
 
 Hind and Panther. 
 
 The strong light in the parlour which we have 
 described, served to enable Everard easily to re- 
 cognise his acquaintances, Desborough, Harrison, 
 and Bletson, who had assembled themselves round 
 an oak table of large dimensions, placed near the 
 blazing chimney, on which were arranged wine, 
 and ale, and materials for smoking, then the gene- 
 ral indulgence of the time. There was a species 
 of movable cupboard set betwixt the table and 
 the door, calculated originally for a display of 
 plate upon grand occasions, but at present only 
 used as a screen ; which purpose it served so efl&c-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 269 
 
 tually, that, ere he had coasted around it, Eve- 
 rard heard the followhig fragment of what Des- 
 borough was saymg, in his coarse strong voice : — 
 " Sent him to share with us, I'se warrant ye — It 
 was always his Excellency my brother-in-law's 
 way — if he made a treat for five friends, he would 
 invite more than the table could hold — I have 
 known him ask three men to eat two eggs." 
 
 " Hush, hush,"' said Bletson ; and the servants 
 making their appearance from behind the tall cup- 
 board, announced Colonel Everard. It may not 
 be unpleasing to the reader to have a description 
 of the party into which he now entered. 
 
 Desborough was a stout, bull-necked man, of 
 middle size, with heavy vulgar features, griz- 
 zled bushy eyebrows, and wall-eyes. The flou- 
 rish of his powerful relative's fortunes, had burst 
 forth in the finery of his dress, which was much 
 more ornamented than was usual among the round- 
 heads. There was embroidery on his cloak, and 
 lace upon his band ; his hat displayed a feather 
 with a golden clasp, and all his habiliments were 
 those of a cavalier, or follower of the court, rather 
 than the plain dress of a parliamentarian officer.
 
 270 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 But, Heaven knows, there was little of court-like 
 grace or dignity in the person or demeanour of 
 the individual, who became his fine suit as the 
 hog on the sign-post does his gilded armour. It 
 was not that he was positively deformed, or mis- 
 shaped, for, taken in detail, the figure was well 
 enough. But his limbs seemed to act upon dif- 
 ferent and contradictory principles. They were 
 not, as the play says, in a concatenation accord- 
 ingly ; — the right hand moved as if it were upon 
 bad terms with the left, and the legs showed an in- 
 clination to foot it in different and opposite direc- 
 tions. In short, to use an extravagant compari- 
 son, the members of Colonel Desborough seemed 
 rather to resemble the disputatious representatives 
 of a federative congress, than the well-ordered 
 union of the orders of the state, in a firm and 
 well-compacted monarchy, where each holds his 
 own place, and all obey the dictates of a common 
 head. 
 
 General Harrison, the second of the Commis- 
 sioners, was a tall, thin, middle-aged man, who 
 had risen into his high situation injhe army, 
 and his intimacy with Cromwell, by his dauntless
 
 WOODSTOCK. 27t 
 
 courage in the field, and the popularity he had 
 acquired by his exalted enthusiasm amongst the 
 military saints, sectaries, and independents, who 
 composed the strength of the existing army. Har- 
 rison was of mean extraction, and bred up to his 
 father''s employment of a butcher. Nevertheless, 
 his appearance, though coarse, was not vulgar, like 
 that of Desborough, who had so much the ad- 
 vantage of him in birth and education. He had, 
 as we have said, a masculine height and strength 
 of figure, was well made, and in his manner an- 
 nounced a rough military character, which might 
 be feared, but could not be the object of contempt 
 or ridicule. His aquiline nose and dark black 
 eyes set off to some advantage a countenance 
 otherwise irregular, and the wild enthusiasm that 
 sometimes sparkled in them as he dilated on his 
 opinions to others, and often seemed to slumber 
 under his long dark eye-lashes as he mused upon 
 them himself, gave something strikingly wild, and 
 even noble, to his aspect. He was one of the chief 
 leaders of those who were called Fifth-Monarchy 
 men, who, going even beyond the usual fanati- 
 cism «f the age, presumptuously interpreted the
 
 272 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Book of the Revelations after their own fancies, 
 considered that the second Advent of the Mes- 
 siah, and the Millenium, or reign of the Saints 
 upon earth, was close at hand, and that they 
 themselves, illuminated, as they believed, with the 
 power of foreseeing these approaching events, were 
 the choice instruments for the establishment of the 
 New Reign, or Fifth Monarchy, as it was called, 
 and were fated also to win its honours, whether 
 celestial or terrestrial. 
 
 When this spirit of enthusiasm, which opera- 
 ted like a partial insanity, was not immediately 
 affecting Harrison's mind, he was a shrewd world- 
 ly man, and a good soldier ; one who missed no 
 opportunity of mending his fortune, and who, in 
 expecting the exaltation of the Fifth Monarchy, 
 was, in the meanwhile, a ready instrument for the 
 establishment of the Lord General's supremacy. 
 Whether it was owing to his early occupation, 
 and habits of indifference to pain or bloodshed, 
 to natural disposition and want of feeling, or, 
 finally, to the awakened character of his enthu- 
 siasm, which made him look upon those who oppo- 
 sed him, as opposing the Divine will, and therefore
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 273 
 
 meriting no favour or mercy, is not easy to say. 
 But all agreed, that after a victory, or the suc- 
 cessful storm of a town, Harrison was one of the 
 most cruel and pitiless men in Cromwell's army ; 
 always urging some misapplied text to authorize 
 the continued execution of the fugitives, and some- 
 times even putting to death those who had surren- 
 dered themselves prisoners. It was said, that at 
 times the recollection of some of those cruelties 
 troubled his conscience, and disturbed the dreams 
 of beatification in which his imagination indulged. 
 
 When Everard entered the apartment, this 
 true representative of the fanatical soldiers of the 
 day, who filled those ranks and regiments v/hicli 
 Cromwell had politically kept on foot, while he 
 procured the reduction of those in which the Pres- 
 byterian interest predominated, was seated a little 
 apart from the others, his legs crossed, and stretch- 
 ed out at length towards the fire, his head resting 
 on his elbow, and turned upwards, as if studying, 
 with the most profound gravity, the half-seen 
 carving of the Gothic roof 
 
 Bletson remains to be mentioned, who, in per- 
 son and figure, was diametrically different from 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 274 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 tlic other two. There was neither foppery nor 
 slovenliness in his exterior, nor had he any 
 marks of military service or rank abc ut his per- 
 son. A small walking rapier seemed merely worn 
 as a badge of his rank as a gentleman, without 
 his hand having the least purpose of becoming 
 acquainted with the hilt, or his eye with the blade. 
 His countenance was thin and acute, marked with 
 lines which thought rather than age had traced 
 upon it ; and a habitual sneer on his countenance, 
 even when he least wished to express contempt on 
 his features, seemed to assure the person address- 
 ed, that in Bletson he conversed with a person of 
 intellect far superior to his own. This was a tri- 
 umph of intellect only, for on all occasions of dif- 
 ference respecting speculative opinions, and in- 
 deed on all controversies whatsoever, Bletson 
 avoided the ultimate 7-atio of blows and knocks. 
 
 Yet this peaceful gentleman had found himself 
 obliged to serve personally in the Parliamentary 
 army at the commencement of the Civil War, till 
 happening unluckily to come in contact with the 
 fiery Prince Rupert, his retreat was judged so 
 precipitate, that it required all the shelter his
 
 WOODSTOCK. 275 
 
 friends could afford, to keep liim free of an impeach - 
 ment or a court-martial, lint as BIctson spoke well, 
 and with great effect, in the House of Commons, 
 which was his natural sphere, and was on that ac- 
 count high in the estimation of his party, his be- 
 haviour at Edgehill was passed over, and he con- 
 tinued to take an active share in all the political 
 events of that bustling period, though he faced 
 not again the actual front of war. 
 
 Bletson's theoretical principles of politics had 
 long incliiied him to espouse the opinions of 
 Harrison and others, who adopted the visionary 
 idea of establishing a pure democratical republic 
 in so extensive a country as Britain. This was a 
 rash theory, where there is such an infinite differ- 
 ence betwixt ranks, habits, education, and morals 
 — where there is such an immense disproportion 
 betwixt the wealth of individuals — and where a 
 large proportion of the inhabitants consists of the 
 inferior classes of the large towns and manufactu- 
 ring districts — men unfitted to bear that share 
 in the direction of a state, which must be ex- 
 ercised by the members of a republic in the pro- 
 per sense of the word. Accordingly, so soon as
 
 S76 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 the experiment was made, it became obvious that 
 no such form of government could be adopted 
 with tlie smallest chance of stability ; and the 
 question came only to be, whether the remnant, 
 or, as it was vulgarly called, the Rump of the 
 Long Parliament, now reduced by the seclusion 
 of so many of the members to a few scores of 
 persons, should continue, in spite of their unpo- 
 pularity, to rule the affairs of Britain ? Whether 
 they should cast all loose by dissolving themselves, 
 and issuing writs to convoke a new Parliament, 
 the composition of which no one could answer for, 
 any more than for the measures they might take 
 when assembled ? Or lastly, Whether Cromwell, 
 as actually happened, was not to throw the sword 
 into the balance, and boldly possess himself of 
 that power which the remnant of the Parhament 
 were unable to hold, and yet afraid to resign ? 
 
 Such being the state of parties, the Council of 
 State, in distributing the good things in their 
 gift, endeavoured to soothe and gratify the ar- 
 my, as a beggar flings crusts to a growling mas- 
 tiff. In this view Desborough had been created 
 a Commissioner in the Woodstock matter to gra-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 277 
 
 tify Cromwell, Harrison to soothe the (icrce Fifth- 
 Monarchy men, and Bletson as a sincere republi- 
 can, and one of their own leaven. 
 
 But if they supposed Bletson had the least in- 
 tention of becoming a martyr to his republicanism, 
 or submitting to any serious loss on account of it, 
 they much mistook the man. He entertained their 
 principles sincerely, and not the less that they were 
 found impracticable ; for the miscarriage of his 
 experiment no more converts the political specu- 
 lator, than the explosion of a retort undeceives an 
 alchemist. But Bletson was quite prepared to sub- 
 mit to Cromwell, or any one else who might be pos- 
 sessed of the actual authority. He was a ready 
 subject in practice to the powers existing, and made 
 little difference betwixt various kinds of govern- 
 ment, holding in theory all to be nearly equal in 
 imperfection, so soon as they diverged from the 
 model of Harrington's Oceana. Cromwell had al- 
 ready been tampering with him, like wax between 
 liis finger and thumb, and which he was ready 
 shortly to seal with, smiling at the same time to 
 himself when lie beheld the Council of State giving 
 rewards to Bletson as their faithful adherent, while
 
 278 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 he himself was secure of his allegiance, how soon 
 soever the expected change of government should 
 take place. 
 
 But Bletson was still more attached to his me- 
 taphysical than, his political creed, and carried his 
 doctrines of the perfectibility of mankind as far as 
 he did those respecting the conceivable perfection of 
 a model of government ; and as in the one case he 
 declared against all power which did not emanate 
 from the people themselves, so, in his moral spe- 
 culations, lie was unwilling to refer any of the phe- 
 nomena of nature to a final cause. When pushed, 
 indeed, very hard, Bletson was compelled to mut- 
 ler some inarticulate and unintelligible doctrines 
 concerning an Animus Mundi^ or Creative Power 
 in the works of Nature, by which she originally 
 called into existence, and still continues to preserve, 
 her works. To this power, he said, some of the pu- 
 rest metaphysicians rendered a certain degree of 
 homage ; nor was he himself inclined absolutely to 
 censure those, who, by institution of hoUdays, cho- 
 ral dances, songs, and harmless feasts and libations, 
 might be disposed to celebrate the great goddess 
 Nature ; at least dancing, singing, feasting, and
 
 WOODSTOCK. 271) 
 
 sporting, being comfortable things to both young 
 and old, they might as well sport, dance and feast, 
 in honour of such appointed holidays, as under any 
 other pretext. But then this moderate show of re- 
 ligion was to be practised under such exceptions 
 as are admitted by the Highgate oath ; and no one 
 was to be compelled to dance, drink, sing, or feast, 
 whose taste did not happen to incline them to 
 such divertisements ; nor was any one to be com- 
 pelled to worship the creative power, whether un- 
 der the name of the Animus Mundi, or any other 
 whatsoever. The interference of the Deity in the 
 affairs of mankind he entirely disowned, having 
 proved to his own satisfaction that the idea origi- 
 nated entirely in priestcraft. In short, with the 
 shadowy metaphysical exception aforesaid, Mr 
 Joshua Bletson of Darlington, member for Little- 
 creed, came as near the predicament of an atheist, 
 as it is perhaps possible for a man to do. But 
 we say this with the necessary salvo ; for we have 
 known many like Bletson, whose curtains have 
 been shrewdly shaken by superstition, though their 
 fears were unsanctioned by any rehgious faith. 
 The devils, we arc assured, believe and tremble ;
 
 280 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 but on earth there are many, who, in worse pHght 
 than even the natural children of perdition, tremble 
 without believing, and fear even while they blas- 
 pheme. 
 
 It follows, of course, that nothing could be 
 treated with more scorn by Mr Bletson, than the 
 debates about Prelacy and Presbytery, about Pres- 
 bytery and Independency, about Quakers and Ana- 
 baptists, Muggletonians and Brownists, and all the 
 various sects by which the Civil War had commen- 
 ced, and by which its dissensions were still con- 
 tinued. " It was," he said, " as if beasts of bur- 
 then should quarrel amongst themselves about the 
 fashion of their halters and pack-saddles, instead 
 of embracing a favourable opportunity of throwing 
 them aside." Other witty and pithy remarks he 
 used to make when time and place suited ; for in- 
 stance, at the club called the Rota, frequented by 
 Saint John, and established by Harrington for the 
 free discussion of political and religious subjects. 
 
 But when Bletson was out of this academy, or 
 stronghold o,f philosophy, he was very cautious how 
 he carried his contempt of the general prejudice in 
 favour of religion and Christianity further than
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 281 
 
 an implied objection or a sneer. If he had an op- 
 portunity of talking in private with an ingenuous 
 and intelligent youth, he sometimes attempted to 
 make a proselyte, and showed much address in 
 bribing the vanity of inexperience, by suggesting 
 that a mind like his ought to spurn the prejudices 
 impressed upon it in childhood ; and when assu- 
 ming the lattis claims of reason, assuring him 
 that such as he, laying aside the bulla of juvenile 
 incapacity, as Bletson called it, should proceed to 
 examine and decide for himself. It frequently hap- 
 pened, that the youth was induced to adopt the 
 doctrines in whole, or in part, of the sage who had 
 seen his natural genius, and who had urged him 
 to exert it in examining, detecting, and declaring 
 for himself; and thus flattery gave proselytes to 
 infidelity, which could not have been gained by 
 all the powerful eloquence, or artful sophistry, of 
 the infidel. 
 
 These attempts to extend the influence of what 
 was called free-thinking and philosophy, were car- 
 ried «on, as we have hinted, with a caution dic- 
 tated by the timidity of the philosopher's dis- 
 position. He was conscious his doctrines were
 
 S82 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 suspected, and his proceedings vviitclicd, by the 
 two principal sects of Prelatists and Presbyterians, 
 who, however inimical to each other, were still more 
 hostile to one who was an opponent, not only to a 
 church establishment of any kind, but to every 
 denomination of Christianity. He found it more 
 easy to shroud himself among the Independents, 
 whose demands were for a general liberty of con- 
 science, or an unUmited toleration, and whose faith, 
 differing in all respects and particulars, was by 
 some pushed into such wild errors, as to get totally 
 beyond the bounds of every species of Christianity, 
 and approach very near to infidelity itself, as ex- 
 tremes of each kind are said to approach each 
 other. Bletson mixed a good deal among those 
 sectaries : and such was his confidence in his own 
 logic and address, that he is supposed to have en- 
 tertained hopes of bringing to his opinions in time 
 the enthusiastic Vane, as well as the no less en- 
 thusiastic Harrison, providing lie could but get 
 them to resign their visions of a Fifth Monarchy, 
 and induce them to be contented with a reign of 
 Philosophers in England for the, natural period 
 o£ their lives, instead of the reign of the Saints 
 during the Millenium.
 
 ^ wooiJSTocK. 283 
 
 Such was the singular group into which Eve- 
 rard was now introduced ; showing, in their va- 
 rious opinions, upon how many devious coasts hu- 
 man nature may make shipwreck, when she has once 
 let go her hold on the anchor which religion has 
 given her to lean upon ; the acute self-conceit and 
 worldly learning of Bletson — the rash and ignorant 
 conclusions of the fierce and under-bred Harrison, 
 leading them into the opposite extremes of enthu- 
 siasm and infidelity, while Desborough, constitu- 
 tionally stupid, thought nothing about religion at 
 all ; and while the others were active in making 
 sail on different but equally erroneous courses, 
 he might be said to perish like a vessel, which 
 springs a leak and founders in the roadstead. 1 1 
 was wonderful to behold what a strange variety 
 of mistakes and errors, on the part of the King and 
 his Ministers, on the part of the Parliament and 
 their leaders, on the part of the allied kingdoms of 
 Scotland and England towards each other, had 
 combined to rear up men of such dangerous opi- 
 nions and interested characters among the arbiters 
 of the destiny of Britain. 
 
 Those who argue for party's sake, will sec all the
 
 284 AVOODSTOCK. , 
 
 faults on the one side, without deigning to look at 
 those on the other ; those who study history for 
 instruction, will perceive that nothing but the want 
 of concession on either side, and the deadly height 
 to which the animosity of the King's and Parlia- 
 ment's parties had arisen, could have so totally 
 overthrown the well-poised balance of the English 
 constitution. But we hasten to quit political re- 
 flections, the rather that ours, we believe, will 
 please neither Whig nor Tory.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Three form a College — an you give us four, 
 Let him bring his share with him. 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 Mr Bletson arose, and paid his respects to 
 Colonel Everard, with the ease and courtesy of a 
 gentleman of the time ; though on every account 
 grieved at his intrusion, as a religious man who 
 held his free-thinking principles in detestation, and 
 would effectually prevent his conversion of Harri- 
 son, and even of Desborough, if anything could be 
 moulded out of such a clod to the worship of the 
 Animus Mundi. Moreover, Bletson knew Eve- 
 rard to be a man of steady probity, and by no 
 means disposed to close with a scheme on which 
 he had successfully sounded the other two, and 
 which was calculated to assure the Commissioners
 
 SS6 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 of some little private indemnification for the trou- 
 ble they were to give themselves in the public busi- 
 ness. The philosopher was yet less pleased when 
 he saw the magistrate and the pastor who had met 
 him in his flight of the preceding evening, when 
 he had been seen, parnia non bene relicta, with 
 cloak and doublet left behind him. 
 
 The presence of Colonel Everard was as un- 
 pleasing to Desborough as to Bletson ; but the 
 former having no philosophy in him, nor an idea 
 that it was possible for any man to resist helping 
 himself out of untold money, was chiefly embar- 
 rassed by the thought, that the plunder which they 
 might be able to achieve out of their trust, might, 
 by this unwelcome addition to their number, be 
 divided into four parts instead of three ; and this 
 reflection added to the natural awkwardness with 
 which he grumbled forth a sort of welcome, ad- 
 dressed to Everard. 
 
 As for Harrison, he remained like one on 
 higher thoughts intent ; his posture unmoved, his 
 eyes fixed on the ceiling as before, and no part of 
 him indicated the least consciousness that the com- 
 pany had been more than doubled around him.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 287 
 
 Meantime, Evcrard took his place at the ta- 
 ble, as a man who assumed his own right, and 
 pointed to his companions to sit down nciirer the 
 foot of the board. Wildrake so far misunderstood 
 his signals, as to sit down above the Mayor ; 
 but, rallying his recollection at a look from his 
 patron, he rose and took his place lower, whist- 
 ling, however, as he went, a sound at which the 
 company stared, as at a freedom highly unbeco- 
 ming. To complete his indecorum, he seized 
 upon a pipe, and filling it from a large tobacco- 
 box, was soon immersed in a cloud of his own 
 raising ; from which a hand shortly after emerged, 
 seized on the black-jack of ale, withdrew it with- 
 in the vapoury sanctuary, and, after a potential 
 draught, replaced it upon the table, its owner be- 
 ginning to renew the cloud which his intermitted 
 exercise of the tube had almost allowed to sub- 
 side. 
 
 Nobody made any observation on his conduct, 
 out of respect, probably, to Colonel Everard, wlio 
 bit his lip, but continued silent ; aware that censure 
 might extract something more unequivocally cha- 
 
 19
 
 >288 \V001).-.T0CK. 
 
 racteristic of a cavalier, from his refractory com- 
 panion. As silence seemed too awkward, and the 
 others made no advances to break it, beyond the 
 ordinary salutation. Colonel Everard at length 
 said, " I presume, gentlemen, that you are some- 
 what surprised at my arrival here, and thus in- 
 truding myself into your meeting." 
 
 " Why the dickens should we be surprised, 
 Colonel ?" said Desborough ; " we know his Ex- 
 cellency, my brother-in-law Noll's— I mean my 
 Lord Cromwell's way, of over-quartering his men 
 in the towns he marches through. Thou hast 
 obtained a share in our commission ?" 
 
 " And in that," said Bletson, smiling and bow- 
 ing, " the Lord-General has given us the most 
 acceptable colleague that could have been added 
 to our number. No doubt your authority for join- 
 ing with us must be under warrant of the Coun- 
 cil of State ?" 
 
 " Of that, gentlemen," said the Colonel, " I 
 will presently advise you." — He took out his 
 warrant accordingly, and was about to communi- 
 cate the contents ; but observing that there were 
 three or four half-empty flasks upon the table,
 
 WOODSTOCK. 289 
 
 that Desborougli looked more stupid than usual, 
 and that the philosopher's eyes were reeling in 
 his head, notwithstanding the temperance of 
 Bletson's usual habits, he concluded that they 
 had been fortifying themselves against the hor- 
 rors of the haunted mansion, by laying in a store 
 of what is called Dutch courage, and therefore 
 prudently resolved to postpone his more important 
 business with them till the cooler hour of morn- 
 ing. He therefore, instead of presenting the Ge- 
 neral's warrant superseding their commission, con- 
 tented himself with replying, — " My business 
 has, of course, some reference to your proceed- 
 ings here. But here is — excuse my curiosity — 
 a reverend gentleman," pointing to Holdenough, 
 " who has told me that you are so strangely em- 
 barrassed here, as to require both the civil and 
 spiritual authority to enable you to keep posses- 
 sion of Woodstock." 
 
 " Before we go into that matter," said Bletson, 
 blushing up to the eyes at the recollection of his 
 own fears, so manifestly displayed, yet so incon- 
 sistent with his principles, " I should like to know 
 who this other stranger is, who has come with the 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 worthy magistrate, and tlie no less worthy Pres- 
 byterian." 
 
 " Meaning me ?"" said Wildrake, laying lirs 
 pipe aside ; " Gadzooks, the time hath been that 
 I could have answered the question with a better 
 title; but at present I am only his honour"'s poor 
 clerk, or secretary, whichever is the current 
 phrase/' 
 
 " 'Fore George, my lively blade, thou art a frank 
 fellow of thy tattle,"" said Desborough. " There is 
 my secretary Tomkins, whom men sillily enough 
 call Fibbet, and the honourable Lieutenant-Ge- 
 neral Harrison's secretary Bibbet, who are now at 
 supper below stairs, that durst not for their ears 
 speak a phrase above their breath in the presence 
 of their betters, unless to answer a question." 
 
 " Yes, Colonel Everard," said the philosopher 
 with his quiet smile, glad, apparently, to divert 
 the conversation from the topic of last night's 
 alarm, and recollections which humbled his self- 
 love and self-satisfaction, — "yes ; and when Master 
 Fibbet and Master Bibbet do speak, their affirma- 
 tions are as much in a common mould of mutual 
 attestation, as their names would accord m the
 
 WOODSTOCK. 291 
 
 verses of a poet. If Master Fibbet happens to tell 
 a fiction, Master Bibbet swears it as truth. If 
 Master Bibbet chances to have gotten drunk in 
 the fear of the Lord, Master Fibbet swears he is 
 sober. I have called my own secretary Gibbet, 
 though his name chances to be only Gibeon, a 
 worthy Israelite at your service, but as pure a 
 youth as ever picked a lamb-bone at Paschal. But 
 I call him Gibbet, merely to make up the holy 
 trefoil with another rhyme. This squire of thine. 
 Colonel Everard, looks as if he might be worthy 
 to be coupled with the rest of the fraternity." 
 
 " Not I, truly," said the cavalier; " I'll be 
 coupled with no Jew that was ever whelped, and 
 no Jewess neither." 
 
 " Scorn not for that, young man," said the phi- 
 losopher ; " the Jews are, in point of religion, 
 the elder brethren, you know." 
 
 " The Jews older than the Christians .''" said 
 Desborough ; " Tore George, they will have thee 
 before the General Assembly, Bletson, if thou 
 ventures t to say so." 
 
 Wildrake laughed without ceremony at the 
 gross ignorance of Desborough, and was joined by
 
 S92 WOODSTO€K. 
 
 a sniggling response from behind the cupboard, 
 which, when inquired into, proved to be produced 
 by the serving-men. These worthies, timorous as 
 their betters, when they had set down the lights, 
 and were supposed to have left the room, had only 
 absconded behind their present place of conceal- 
 ment. 
 
 " How now, ye rogues,"" said Bletson, angrily ; 
 " do you not know your duty better ?" 
 
 " We beg your worthy honour's pardon," said 
 one of the men, " but we had set the candlesticks 
 down on the table, and truly we dared not go 
 down stairs till we should get a light." 
 
 " A light, ye cowardly poltroons .?" said the 
 philosopher, " what — to show which of you looks 
 palest when a rat squeaks ? — but take a candle- 
 stick and begone, you cowardly villains ! the de- 
 vils you are so much afraid of must be but pal- 
 try kites, if they hawk at such bats as you are." 
 
 The servants, without replying, took up one of 
 the candlesticks, and prepared to retreat. Trusty 
 Tomkins at the head of the troop, when suddenly, 
 as they arrived at the door of the parlour, which 
 had been left half open, it was shut violently.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 293 
 
 The three terrified domestics tumbled back into 
 the middle of the room, as if a shot had been dis- 
 charged in their face, and all who were at the table 
 started to their feet. 
 
 Colonel Everard was incapable of a moment's 
 fear, even if anything frightful had been seen ; 
 but he remained stationary, to see what his com- 
 panions would do, and to get at the bottom, if pos- 
 sible, of the cause of their alarm upon an occasion 
 so trifling. The philosopher seemed to think that 
 he was the person chiefly concerned to show man- 
 hood on the occasion. 
 
 He walked to the door accordingly, murmuring 
 at the cowardice of the servants ; but at such a 
 snaiFs pace, that it seemed he would most willing- 
 ly have been anticipated by any one whom his 
 reproaches had roused to exertion. " Cowardly 
 blockheads !" he said at last, seizing hold of the 
 handle of the door, but without turning it effec- 
 tually round — " dare you not open a door ?" — 
 (still fumbling with the lock) — " dare you not go 
 down a staircase without a light ? Here, bring 
 me the candle, you cowardly villains ! — By hea- 
 ven, something sighs on the outside !"
 
 294 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 As he spoke, he let go the handle of the par- 
 lour door, and stepped back a pace or two into the 
 apartment, with cheeks as pale as the band he 
 wore. 
 
 " Deus adjutor meus .'" said the Presbyterian 
 clergyman, rising from his seat. " Give place, 
 sir," addressing Bletson ; " it would seem I know 
 more of this matter than thou, and I bless Heaven 
 I am armed for the conflict." 
 
 Bold as a grenadier about to mount a breach, 
 yet with the same belief in the existence of a great 
 danger to be encountered, as well as the same re- 
 liance in the goodness of his cause, the worthy man 
 stepped before the philosophical Bletson, and ta- 
 king a light from a sconce in one hand, quietly 
 opened the door with the other, and standing in 
 the threshold, said, " Here is nothing I" 
 
 " And who expected to see anything," said 
 Bletson, " excepting those terrified oafs, who take 
 fright at every puff' of wind that whistles through 
 the passages of this old dungeon ?'''' 
 
 *' Mark you, Master Tomkins," said one of the 
 waiting-men in a whisper to the steward, — " See 
 how boldly the minister pressed forward before
 
 WOODSTOCK. 295 
 
 all oi' them. Ah ! Master Tomkms, our parson is 
 the real commissioned oflicer of the church- — your 
 lay-preachers are no better than a parcel of club- 
 men and volunteers." 
 
 " Follow me those who list/"' said Master Hold- 
 enough, " or go before me those who choose, I 
 will walk through the habitable places of this house 
 before I leave it, and satisfy myself whether Satan 
 hath really mingled himself among these dreary 
 dens of ancient wickedness, or whether, like the 
 wicked of whom holy David speaketh, we are 
 afraidj and flee when no one pursueth." 
 
 Harrison, who had heard these words, sprung 
 from his seat, and drawing his sword, exclaimed, 
 " Were there as many fiends in the house as there 
 are hairs on my head, upon this cause I will charge 
 them up to their very trenches !" 
 
 So saying, he brandished his weapon, and press- 
 'cd to the head of the column, where he moved side 
 by side with the minister. The Mayor of Wood- 
 stock next joined the body, thinking himself safer 
 perhaps in the company of his pastor ; and the 
 whole train moved forward in close order, accom- 
 panied by the servants bearing lights, to search
 
 290 W001)5T0( K. ' 
 
 the Lodge for some cause of that panic with which 
 they seemed to be suddenly seized. 
 
 " Nay, take me with you, my friends/' said 
 Colonel Everard, who had looked on in surprise, 
 and was now about to follow the party, when Blet- 
 son laid hold on his cloak, and begged him to re- 
 main. 
 
 " You see, my good Colonel," he said, affect- 
 ing a courage which his shaking voice belied, 
 " here are only you and I, and honest Desbo- 
 rough, left behind in garrison, while all the others 
 are absent on a sally. We must not hazard the 
 whole troops in one sortie — that were unmilitary 
 —Ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, what means all this ?"" 
 said Everard. " I heard a foolish tale about ap- 
 paritions as I came this way, and now I find you 
 all half mad with fear, and cannot get a word of 
 sense among so many of you. Fie, Colonel Des- 
 borough — fie. Master Bletson — try to compose 
 yourselves, and let me know, in Heaven's name, 
 the cause of all this disturbance. One would be 
 apt to think your brains were turned." 
 
 '' And so mine well may," said Desborough,
 
 WOODSTOCK. 297 
 
 " ay, and overturned too, since my bed last night 
 was turned upside down, and I was placed for ten 
 minutes heels uppermost, and head downmost, like 
 a bullock going to be shod."" 
 
 " What means this nonsense, Master Bletson ? 
 — Desborough must have had the night-mare." 
 
 " No, faith. Colonel, the goblins, or whatever 
 else they were, had been favourable to honest Des- 
 borough, for they reposed the whole of his person 
 on that part of his body which — Hark, did you 
 not hear something ? — is the central point of gra- 
 vity, namely his head." 
 
 " Did you see anything to alarm you ?" said 
 the Colonel. 
 
 " Nothing," said Bletson ; " but we heard hell- 
 ish noises, as all our people did ; and I, believing 
 little of ghosts and apparitions, concluded the ca- 
 valiers were taking us at advantage ; so remem- 
 bering Rainsborough's fate, I e"'en jumped the 
 window, and ran to Woodstock, to call the soldiers 
 to the rescue of Harrison and Desborough." 
 
 " And did you not first go to see what the dan- 
 ger was ?" 
 
 " Ah, my good friend, you forget that I laid
 
 298 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 down my commission at the time of the self-deny- 
 ing ordinance. It would have been quite incon- 
 sistent with my duty as a Parliament-man, to be 
 brawling amidst a set of ruffians, with any military 
 authority. No — when the Parliament command- 
 ed me to sheathe my sword. Colonel, I have too 
 much veneration for their authority, to be found 
 again with it drawn in my hand." 
 
 " But the Parliament," said Desborough, has- 
 tily, " did not command you to use your heels 
 when your hands could have saved a man from 
 clioking. Ods dickens ! you might have stopped 
 when you saw my bed canted heels uppermost, 
 and me half stifled in the bed-clothes — you might, 
 I say, have stopped and lent a hand to put it to 
 rights, instead of jumping out of window, like a 
 new-shorn sheep, so soon as you had run across 
 my room." 
 
 " Nay, worshipful Master Desborough," said 
 Bletson, winking on Everard, to show that he was 
 playing on his thick-skulled colleague, " how could 
 I tell .your particular mode of reposing .'' — there 
 are many tastes — I have known men who slept by 
 choice on a slope or angle of forty-five."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 299 
 
 " Yes, but did ever a man sleep standing on 
 his head, except by miracle ?" said Desborough. 
 
 " Now, as to miracles — " said the philosopher, 
 confident in the presence of Everard, besides that 
 an opportunity of scoffing at religion really in some 
 degree diverted his fear — " I leave these out of 
 the question, seeing that the evidence on such 
 subjects seems as little qualified to carry convic- 
 tion, as a horse-hair to land a leviathan." 
 
 A loud clap of thunder, or a noise as formida- 
 ble, rang through the Lodge as the scoffer had 
 ended, which struck him pale and motionless, and 
 made Desborough throw himself on his knees, and 
 repeat exclamations and prayers in much admired 
 confusion. 
 
 " There must be contrivance here,'"" exclaimed 
 Everard ; and snatching one of the candles from 
 a sconce, he rushed out of the apartment, little 
 heeding the entreaties of the philosopher, who, in 
 the extremity of his distress, conjured him by the 
 Animus Mundi to remain to the assistance of a 
 distressed philosopher endangered by witches, 
 and a Parliament-man assaulted by ruffians. As 
 for Desborough, he only gaped like a clown in a
 
 ;iO() WOODSTOCK. 
 
 pantomime; and, doubtful whether to follow or 
 stop, his natural indolence prevailed, and he sat 
 still. 
 
 When on the landing-place of the stairs, Evc- 
 rard paused a moment to consider which was the 
 best course to take. He heard the voices of men 
 talking fast and loud, like people who wish to drown 
 their fears, in the lower story ; and aware that no- 
 thing could be discovered by those whose inqui- 
 ries were conducted in a manner so noisy, he re- 
 solved to proceed in a different. direction, and ex- 
 amine the second floor, which he had now gained. 
 
 He had known every corner, both of the in- 
 habited and uninhabited part of the mansion, 
 and availed himself of the candle, to traverse two 
 or three intricate passages, which he was afraid 
 he might not remember with sufficient accuracy. 
 This movement conveyed him to a sort of Oeuil- 
 de-heuf'y an octagon vestibule, or small hall, from 
 which various Tooms opened. Amongst these 
 doors, Everard selected that which led to a very 
 long, narrow, and dilapidated gallery, built in the 
 time of Henry VIII., and running along the whole 
 south-west side of the building, communicating at
 
 WOODSTOCK. 301 
 
 different points with the rest of the mansion. This 
 he thought was likely to be the post occupied by 
 those who proposed to act the sprites upon the oc- 
 casion ; especially as its length and shape gave him 
 some idea that it was a spot where the bold thun- 
 der might in many ways be imitated. 
 
 Determined to ascertain the truth if possible, he 
 placed his light on a table in the vestibule, and 
 applied hin.sclf to open the door into the gallery. 
 At this point he found himself strongly opposed 
 either by a bolt drawn, or, as he rather conceived, 
 by somebody from within resisting his attempt. 
 He was induced to believe the latter, because the 
 resistance slackened and was renewed, like that of 
 human strength, instead of presenting the perma- 
 nent opposition of an inanimate obstacle. Though 
 Everard was a strong and active young man, he 
 exhausted his strength in the vain attempt to open 
 the door ; and having paused to take breath, was 
 about to renew his efforts with foot and shoulder, 
 and to call at the same time for assistance, when 
 to his surprise, on again attempting the door more 
 gently, in order to ascertain if possible where the 
 strength of the opposing obstacle was situated, he
 
 802 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 found it give way to a very slight impulse, some 
 impediment fell broken to the ground, and the 
 door flew wide open. The gust of wind, occasion- 
 ed by the sudden opening of the door, blew out 
 the candle, and Everard was left in darkness, 
 save where the moonshine, which the long side- 
 row of latticed windows dimmed, could imperfect- 
 ly force its way into the gallery, which lay in 
 ghostly length before him. 
 
 The melancholy and doubtful twilight was in- 
 creased by a quantity of creeping plants on the 
 outside, which, since all had been neglected in 
 these ancient halls, now completely overgrown, had 
 in some instances greatly diminished, and in others 
 almost quite choked up, the space of the lattices, 
 extending between the heavy stone shaft-work 
 which divided the windows, both lengthways and 
 across. On the other side there were no windows 
 at all, and the gallery had been once completely 
 hung with paintings, chiefly portraits, by which 
 that side of the apartment had been adorned. 
 Most of the pictures had been removed, yet the 
 empty frames of some, and the tattered remnants 
 of others, were still visible along the extent of
 
 M'OODSTOCTC. 303 
 
 the waste gallery ; the look of which was so de- 
 solate, and so well adapted besides for mischief, 
 supposing there were enemies near him, that Eve- 
 rard could not help pausing at the entrance, and 
 recommending himself to God, ere, drawing his 
 sword, he advanced into the apartment, treading 
 as lightly as possible, and keeping in the shadow 
 as much as he could. 
 
 Markham Everard was by no means supersti- 
 tious, but he had the usual credulity of his times ; 
 and though he did not yield easily to tales of su- 
 pernatural visitations, yet he could not help think- 
 ing he was in the very situation, where, if such 
 things were ever permitted, they might be ex- 
 pected to take place, while his own stealthy and 
 ill- assured pace, his drawn weapon, and extended 
 arms, being the very attitude and action of doubt 
 and suspicion, tended to increase in his mind the 
 gloomy feelings of which they are the usual indi- 
 cations, and with which they are constantly asso- 
 ciated. Under such unpleasant impressions, and 
 conscious of the neighbourhood of something un- 
 friendly, Colonel Everard had already advanced 
 about half along the gallery, when he heard some
 
 J304f WOODSTOCK. 
 
 one sigh very near him, and a low soft voice pro- 
 nounce his name. 
 
 " Here I am," he repUed, while his heart beat 
 thick and short. " Who calls on Markham Eve- 
 
 rard ?'' 
 
 Another sigh was the only answer. 
 
 " Speak," said the Colonel, " whoever or what- 
 soever you are, and tell with what intent and pur- 
 pose you are lurking in these apartments ?" 
 
 ♦' With a better intent than yours," returned 
 the soft voice. 
 
 " Than mine !"' answered Everard in great 
 surprise. " Who arc you that dare judge of my 
 
 intents ?"" 
 
 *' What, or who are you, Markham Everard, 
 who wander by moonlight through these deserted 
 halls of royalty, where none should be but those 
 who mourn their downfall, or are sworn to avenge 
 
 it r 
 
 " It is — and yet it cannot be," said Everard ; 
 " yet it is, and must be. Alice Lee, the devil or 
 you speaks. Answer me, I conjure you !— speak 
 openly— on what dangerous scheme are you en- 
 gaged ? where is your father ? why are you here 
 
 18
 
 WOODSTOCK. 305 
 
 —wherefore ilo you run so deadly a venture ? — 
 Speak, I conjure you, Alice Lee !" 
 
 " She whom you call on is at the distance of 
 miles from this spot. What if her Genius speaks 
 when she is absent ? — what if the soul of an an- 
 cestress of hers and yours were now addressing 
 you ?— what if " 
 
 " Nay," answered Everard, " but what if the 
 dearest of human beings has caught a touch of 
 her father's enthusiasm ? what if she is expo- 
 sing her person to danger, her reputation to 
 scandal, by traversing in disguise and in dark- 
 ness a house filled with armed men ? Speak to 
 me, my fair cousin, in your own person. I am 
 furnished with powers to protect my uncle, Sir 
 Henry — to protect you too, dearest Alice^ even 
 against the consequences of this visionary and 
 wild attempt. Speak — I see where you are, and 
 with all my respect, I cannot submit to be thus 
 practised upon. Trust me— trust your cousin 
 Markham with your hand, and believe that he 
 will die cr place you in honourable safety." 
 
 As he spoke, he exercised his eyes as keenly as 
 possible to detect where the speaker stood ; and 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 306 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 it seemed to him, that about three yards from him 
 tliere was a shadowy form, of which he could not 
 discern even the outline, placed as it was within the 
 deep and prolonged shadow thrown by a space of 
 wall intervening betwixt two windows, upon that 
 side of the room from which the light was admit- 
 ted. He endeavoured to calculate, as well as he 
 could, the distance betwixt himself and the object 
 which he watched, under the impression, that if, 
 by even using a slight degree of compulsion, he 
 could detach his beloved Alice from the confede- 
 racy into which he supposed her father's zeal for 
 the cause of royalty had engaged her, he would 
 be rendering them both the most essential favour. 
 He could not indeed but conclude, that however 
 successfully the plot which he conceived to be in 
 agitation had proceeded against the timid Bletson, 
 the stupid Desborough, and the crazy Harrison, 
 there was little doubt that at length their artifices 
 must necessarily bring shame and danger on those 
 engaged in it. 
 
 It must also be remembered, that Everard's af- 
 fection to his cousin, although of the most respect- 
 ful and devoted character, partook less of the dis-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 307 
 
 tant veneration which a lover of those days enter- 
 tained for the lady whom he worshipped with 
 humble diffidence, than of the fond and famiUar 
 feelings which a brother entertains towards a 
 younger sister, whom he thinks himself entitled 
 to guide, advise, and even in some degree to con- 
 trol. So kindly and intimate had been their in- 
 tercourse, that he had little more hesitation in en- 
 deavouring to arrest her progress in the dangerous 
 course in which she seemed to be engaged, even 
 at the risk of giving her momentary offence, than 
 he would have had in snatching her from a torrent 
 or conflagration, at the chance of hurting her by 
 the violence of his grasp. All this passed through 
 his mind in the course of a single minute ; and he 
 resolved at all events to detain her on the spot, 
 and compel, if possible, an explanation from her. 
 
 With this purpose, Everard again conjured his 
 cousin, in the name of Heaven, to give up this idle 
 and dangerous mummery ; and lending an accu- 
 rate ear to her answer, endeavoured from the sound 
 to calculate as nearly as possible the distance be- 
 tween them. 
 
 ** I am not she for whom you take me,'''' said
 
 60S WOODSTOCK. 
 
 the voices " and dearer regards than aught con- 
 nected with her life or death, bid me warn you to 
 keep aloof, and leave this place." 
 
 " Not till I have convinced you of your child- 
 ish folly," said the Colonel, springing forward, and 
 endeavouring to catch hold of her who spoke to 
 him. But no female form was within his grasp. 
 On the contrary, he was met by a shock which 
 could come from no woman's arm, and which was 
 rude enough to stretch him on his back on the 
 floor. At the same time he felt the point of a 
 sword at his throat, and his hands so completely 
 mastered, that not the slightest defence remained 
 to him. 
 
 " A cry for assistance," said a voice near him, 
 but not that which he had hitherto heard, " will be 
 stifled in your blood ! — No harm is meant you— 
 be wise, and be silent." 
 
 The fear of death, which Everard had often 
 braved in the field of battle, became more horrible 
 as he felt himself in the hands of unknown assas- 
 sins, and totally devoid of all means of defence. 
 The sharp point of the sword pricked his bare 
 throat, and the foot of him who held it was upon 
 
 (
 
 WOODSTOCK. fj09 
 
 his breast. He felt it was to be a single thrust, 
 and an end there would be of life, and all the fever- 
 ish joys and sorrows which agitate us so strangely, 
 and from which we are yet so reluctant to part. 
 Large drops of perspiration stood upon his fore- 
 head — his heart throbbed, as if it would burst from 
 its confinement in the bosom — he experienced the 
 agony which fear imposes on the brave man, acute 
 in proportion to that which pain inflicts when it 
 subdues the robust and healthy. 
 
 " Cousin Alice," — he attempted to speak, and 
 the sword's point pressed his tliroat yet more 
 closely—" Cousin, let me not be murdered in a 
 manner so fearful !" 
 
 " I tell you," replied the voice, " that you 
 speak to one who is not here ; but your life is 
 not aimed at, providing you swear on your faith 
 as a Christian, and your honour as a gentleman, 
 that you will conceal what has happened, whether 
 from the people below, or from any other person. 
 On this condition you may rise ; and if you seek 
 her, you will find Alice Lee at Joceline's cottage, 
 ■ in the forest." 
 
 " Since I may not help myself otherwise," said
 
 310 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Everard, " I swear, as I have a sense of religion 
 and honour, I will say nothing of this violence, 
 nor make any search after those who are concern- 
 ed in it." 
 
 " For that we care nothing," said the voice. 
 " Thou hast an example how well thou may'st 
 catch mischief on thy own part ; but we are in 
 ease to defy thee. Rise, and begone !" 
 
 The foot, the sword's-point, were withdrawn, 
 and Everard was about to start up hastily, when 
 the voice, in the same softness of tone which dis- 
 tinguished it at first, said, " No haste — cold and 
 bare steel is yet around thee. Now — now — ^now 
 — (the words dying away as at a distance) — thou 
 art free. Be secret, and be safe." 
 
 Markham Everard arose, and, in rising, em- 
 barrassed his feet with his own sword, which he 
 had dropped when springing forward, as he sup- 
 posed, to lay hold of his fair cousin. He snatched 
 it up in haste, and as his hand clasped the hilt, 
 his courage, which had given way under the ap- 
 prehension of instant death, began to return ; he 
 considered, with almost his usual composure, 
 what was to be done next. Deeply affronted at the
 
 WOODSTOCK. 311 
 
 disgrace which he liad sustained, he questioned 
 for an instant whether he ought to keep his ex- 
 torted promise, or should not rather summon as- 
 sistance, and make haste to discover and seize 
 those who had been recently engaged in such vio- 
 lence on his person. But these persons, be they 
 who they would, had had his life in their power — 
 he had pledged his word in ransom of it — and 
 what was more, he could not divest himself of the 
 idea that his beloved Alice was a confidante at 
 least, if not an actor, in the confederacy which 
 had thus baffled him. This prepossession de- 
 termined his conduct ; for, though angry at suppo- 
 sing she must have been accessary to his personal 
 ill-treatment, he could not in any event think of 
 an instant search through the mansion, which might 
 have committed her safety, or that of his uncle. 
 " But I will to the hut," he said—" I will in- 
 stantly to the hut, ascertain her share in this wild 
 and dangerous confederacy, and snatch her from 
 ruin, if it be possible." 
 
 As, under the influence of the resolution which 
 he had formed, Evcrard groped his way through 
 the gallery, and regained the vestibule, he heard
 
 312 WOODSTOCK, 
 
 his name called by the well-known voice of Wild- 
 rake. *' What — ho ! — hollo ! — Colonel Everard 
 — Mark Everard — it is dark as the deviFs mouth 
 —speak — where are you ? — The witches are keep- 
 ing their hellish sabbath here, as I think. — Where 
 are you T'' 
 
 " Here, here !" answered Everard. " Cease 
 your bawling. Turn to the left, and you will meet 
 
 me. 
 
 Guided by his voice, Wildrake soon appeared, 
 with a light in one hand, and his drawn sword in 
 the other. " Where have you been .?'" he said — 
 " what has detained you ? — Here are Bletson and 
 the brute Desborough, terrified out of their lives, 
 and Harrison raving mad, because the devil will 
 not be civil enough to rise to fight him." 
 
 ." Saw or heard you nothing as you came 
 along ?" said Everard. 
 
 " Nothing," said his friend, " excepting that 
 when I first entered this cursed ruinous labyrinth, 
 the light was struck out of my hand, as if by a 
 switch, which obliged me to return for another." 
 
 " I must come by a horse instantly, Wildrake, 
 and another for thyself, if it be possible." 
 
 16
 
 WOODSTOCK. 313 
 
 " We can take two of those belonging to the 
 troopers," answered Wildrake. " But for what 
 purpose should we run away, like rats, at this time 
 in the evening ? — Is the house falling ?"" 
 
 " I cannot answer you,*" said the Colonel, push- 
 ing forward into a room where there were some re- 
 mains of furniture. 
 
 Here the cavalier took a more strict view of his 
 person, and exclaimed in wonder, " What the 
 devil have you been fighting with, Markham, that 
 has bedizened you after this sorry fashion ?''"' 
 
 " Fighting !" exclaimed Everard. 
 
 " Yes," replied his trusty attendant, " I say 
 fighting. Look at yourself in the mirror.'" 
 
 He did, and saw he was covered with dust and 
 blood. The latter proceeded from a scratch which 
 he had received in tlie throat, as he struggled to 
 extricate himself. With unaffected alarm, Wil- 
 drake undid his friend's collar, and with eager 
 haste proceeded to examine the wound, his hands 
 trembling, and his eyes glistening with apprehen- 
 sion for his benefactor's life. When, in spite of 
 Everard's opposition, he had examined the hurt 
 
 VOL. 1. X
 
 314 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and foim(f it so trifling, he resumed the natural 
 wildness of his character, perhaps the more readily 
 that he had felt shame in departing from it, into 
 one which expressed more of feeling than he would 
 be thought to possess. 
 
 " If that be the devil's work, Mark,"" said he, 
 " the foul fiend's claws are not nigh so formidable 
 as they are represented ; but no one shall say that 
 your blood has been shed unrevenged, while Ro- 
 ger Wildrake was by your side. Where left you 
 this same imp ? I will back to the field of fight, 
 confront him with my rapier, and were his nails 
 tenpenny nails, and his teeth as long as those of 
 a harrow, he shall render me reason for the injury 
 he has done you." 
 
 " Madness — madness !" exclaimed Everard ; 
 " I had this trifling hurt by a fall — a basin and 
 towel will wipe it away. Meanwhile, if you will ever 
 do me kindness, get the troop-horses — command 
 them for the service of the pubHc, in the name of 
 his Excellency the General. I will but wash, and 
 join you in an instant before the gate." 
 
 " Well, I will serve you, Everard, as a mute 
 serves the Grand Signior, without knowing why
 
 WOODSTOCK. 815 
 
 or wherefore. But will you go without seeing 
 these people below ?" 
 
 " Without seeing any one," said Everarcl; 
 " lose no time, for God's sake." 
 
 He found out the non-commissioned officer, 
 and demanded the horses in a tone of authority, to 
 which the corporal yielded undisputed obedience, 
 as one well aware of Colonel Everard's military 
 rank and consequence. So all was in a minute or 
 two ready for the expedition. 
 
 END OF VOLUME FIKST. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 PHINTEn BY JAMES BALLANTYNE ANJ) CO.
 
 L 005 781 328 9 
 
 il II I l!l 
 
 EMW 
 
 fcLOSANGCLES 
 
 I CURIOUS ^ 
 [DARDBOOKS 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILIT'i 
 
 AA 000 461 055 6 
 
 UNWEx 
 
 ^^mmir 

 
 ••?» ■, 
 
 #1 
 
 *^^ 
 
 St.. 
 
 ^