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Woodstock; or, The Cavalier

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> Woodstock; or, The Cavalier




His religion must always be a subject of much 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, slightly subject to hypochondria, was strongly
agitated 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 charging him with a
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 breasts, 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 commenced; or rather, it was a point not
fixed in itself, but fluctuating with the state of health, of good or
bad fortune, of high or low spirits, affecting the individual at the
period.

Such was the celebrated person, who, turning round on Wildrake, and
scanning his countenance 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 _gentleman_?" said Cromwell, with an
emphasis. "Truly 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, suppressing, with difficulty,
some of his usual wild expletives; "formerly gentlemen were found in
gentlemen's places, but now the world is so changed that you shall find
the broidered belt has changed place with the under spur-leather."

"Say'st thou me?" said the General; "I profess thou art a bold
companion, that can bandy words 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," answered 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 commune with thyself as thou may'st, until we have examined
the contents of thy packet. Let him be looked to, and have what he
lacks." So saying the General left the guard-house, where Wildrake took
his seat in the corner, and awaited 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 Trinidado, and a black jack
filled with October. But the look of Cromwell, and the dangerous
situation in which he might be placed by the least chance of detection,
induced Wildrake to decline these hospitable offers, and stretching back
in his chair, and affecting slumber, he escaped notice or conversation,
until a sort of aide-de-camp, or military officer in attendance, came to
summon him to Cromwell'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 staircases, he at length was introduced into a small cabinet, or
parlour, in which was much rich furniture, some bearing the royal cipher
displayed, but all confused and disarranged, 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 General 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, was not too much distinguished for his own
fortunes 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 beside?"

"Worthy Mr. Gordon, the chaplain, was holding 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 asunder 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 labours, for which they have fought and marched,
and fasted, and prayed, and suffered cold and sorrow; while others, 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
considering in what strain he should address him.

When he did speak, it was, at first, in one of those ambiguous
discourses which we have already described, and by which it was very
difficult for any one to understand his meaning, if, indeed, he knew
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 Everard; truly an excellent and honourable gentleman as
ever bore a sword upon his thigh, and one who hath ever distinguished
himself in the great work of delivering these three poor unhappy
nations. Answer me not: I know what thou wouldst 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 messenger between us. And lastly, he hath sent thee to me--Do
not answer--I know what thou wouldst say,--to me, who, albeit, I am of
that small consideration, that it would be too much honour for me even
to bear a halberd in this great and victorious army of England, am
nevertheless exalted to the rank of holding the guidance and the
leading-staff thereof.--Nay, do not answer, my friend--I know what thou
wouldst 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 concerneth us and our
office; thirdly and lastly, as it toucheth thyself.--Now, as concerning
this good and worthy gentleman, Colonel Markham Everard, truly he hath
played the man from the beginning of these unhappy buffetings, 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 endeavoured to
form mine, that we may all act as becometh 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 malignant,
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 those 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, furnisheth no part of their own food, but they are
lashed off from the carcass with whips, like 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 Woodstock, in regard,
that, perhaps, their Lordships of the Council, and also the Committeemen
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 deserved 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 honest friend, and in what mind I stand touching 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 pay to
the Lord-General's speech, had got so much confused among the 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 before; spoke of his love for his kind friend the
Colonel--his regard for his pious and godly kinsman, Master Desborough--
the great importance 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, without
self-seeking, debate, or strife, betwixt those who had been the hands
acting, and such as had been the heads governing, in that great national
cause--how he was willing, truly willing, to contribute to this work, by
laying down, not his commission only, but his life also, if it were
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, whether it was or was not his purpose to grant Colonel
Everard the powers he had asked for the protection of Woodstock against
the Parliamentary Commissioners. Internally he began to entertain hopes
that the justice of Heaven, or the effects of remorse, had confounded
the regicide's understanding. But no--he could see nothing but sagacity
in that steady stern eye, which, while the tongue poured forth its
periphrastic 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 with
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, as he is the devil's darling, I will not be
thus nose-led 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 opportunity 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 to strike
in, on the General's making one of his oratorical pauses.

"So please you" he said bluntly, "your worship 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 honour's subdivision of your
discourse, touched on my unworthy self. What am I to do--what portion am
I to have in this matter?"

Oliver started at once from the tone of voice he had hitherto used, and
which somewhat resembled the purring of a domestic cat, into the growl
of the tiger when about to spring. "_Thy_ portion, 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
falling cause. I tell thee, friend, not all that the Parliament or the
army could do would have pulled down the Stewarts 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 overwhelmed them and
their house. I am not a bloody man, having in me the feeling of human
frailty; but, friend, whosoever putteth his hand to the plough, in the
great actings which are now on foot in these nations, had best beware
that he 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 malignancy
is altogether drubbed out of thee?" "Your honourable lordship," said the
cavalier, 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 interest 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 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 attention," said the cavalier. And the
republican General, after another pause, as one who gave his confidence
not without 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 never 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 executive government of the
kingdom. I cannot tell why they nourish suspicion against me, unless it
is because I will not deliver this poor innocent army, which has
followed me in so many military actions, to be now pulled asunder,
broken piecemeal and reduced, so that they who have protected the state
at the expense of their blood, will not have, perchance, the means of
feeding themselves by their labour; which, methinks, were hard measure,
since it is taking from Esau his birthright, even without giving him a
poor mess of pottage."

"Esau is likely to help himself, I think," replied Wildrake.

"Truly, thou say'st wisely," replied the General; "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
harmonious manner, that they would listen to our conditions, and
consider our necessities. But, sir, looking on me, and estimating me so
little as they do, you must think that it would be a provocation in me
towards the Council of State, as well as the Parliament, if, simply to
gratify your worthy master, I were to act contrary to their purposes, or
deny currency to the commission under their authority, which is as yet
the highest in the State--and long may it be so for me!--to carry on the
sequestration which they intend. And would it not also be said, that I
was lending 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 it please you, that you cannot
stead Colonel Everard in this matter?"

"Unconditionally, ay--but, taken conditionally, 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 counsel, save in so far as
carrying 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 falcon's in the presence of the eagle.

"Hear me, then," said Cromwell, "and let no syllable escape thee.
Knowest thou 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
Colonel's 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 Stewart 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."

"It was devilish like him," said the cavalier, without sufficiently
weighing his expressions, considering 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 Wildrake, recollecting himself,
"except there is some mention of malignants and cavaliers in my hearing;
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 horrible 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 barren
and unprofitable 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
possession of the secret that seemed to be suspended on Cromwells lips;
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 backstairs, also
subterranean passages, and all the communications under ground, which
are common in old raven-nests of the sort."

"And places for concealing priests, unquestionably," 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 concealment whereof young
Albert hath been acquainted ever since his earliest infancy?"

"Truly," said Wildrake, making an effort to answer the question with
seeming indifference, while the possibility of such an event, and its
consequences, 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 Woodstock, are likely to fright
them thence, as a cat scares doves from a pigeon-house. The
neighbourhood, with reverence, of Generals Desborough 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," answered Cromwell. "Assuredly
the conquest at Worcester was a great and crowning mercy; yet might 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 singleness of heart, that we do not, in any way,
deserve 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, as he called
himself--this Charles Stewart--should not escape forth from the nation,
where his arrival has wrought so much disturbance and bloodshed."

"I have no doubt," said the cavalier, looking down, "that your
lordship's wisdom hath directed 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 understand 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. We speak to men like thee for their
reward or their punishment; and I trust it will be the former which thou
in thine office wilt merit at my hand."

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