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Woodstock; or, The Cavalier

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




"We'll drink till we bring
In triumph back the king."

The leaders and gentry, of a higher description and more regular morals,
did not indeed partake such excesses, but they still kept their eye upon
a class of persons, who, from courage and desperation, were capable of
serving on an advantageous occasion the fallen cause of royalty; and
recorded the lodges and blind taverns at which they met, as wholesale
merchants know the houses of call of the mechanics whom they may have
occasion to employ, and can tell where they may find them when need
requires it. It is scarce necessary to add, that among the lower class,
and sometimes even among the higher, there were men found capable of
betraying the projects and conspiracies of their associates, whether
well or indifferently combined, to the governors of the state. Cromwell,
in particular, had gained some correspondents of this kind of the
highest rank, and of the most undoubted character, among the royalists,
who, if they made scruple of impeaching or betraying individuals who
confided in them, had no hesitation in giving the government such
general information as served to enable him to disappoint the purposes
of any plot or conspiracy.

To return to our story. In much shorter time than we have spent in
reminding the reader of these historical particulars, Joliffe had made
his mystic communication; and being duly answered as by one of the
initiated, he undid the door, and there entered our old friend Roger
Wildrake, round-head in dress, as his safety and dependence on Colonel
Everard compelled him to be, but that dress worn in a most cavalier-like
manner, and forming a stronger contrast than usual with the demeanour
and language of the wearer, to which it was never very congenial.

His puritanic hat, the emblem of that of Ralpho in the prints to
Hudibras, or, as he called it, his felt umbrella, was set most knowingly
on one side of the head, as if it had been a Spanish hat and feather;
his straight square-caped sad-coloured cloak was flung gaily upon one
shoulder, as if it had been of three-plied taffeta, lined with crimson
silk; and he paraded his huge calf-skin boots, as if they had been
silken hose and Spanish leather shoes, with roses on the instep. In
short, the airs which he gave himself, of a most thorough-paced wild
gallant and cavalier, joined to a glistening of self-satisfaction in his
eye, and an inimitable swagger in his gait, which completely announced
his thoughtless, conceited, and reckless character, formed a most
ridiculous contrast to his gravity of attire.

It could not, on the other hand, be denied, that in spite of the touch
of ridicule which attached to his character, and the loose morality
which he had learned in the dissipation of town pleasures, and
afterwards in the disorderly life of a soldier, Wildrake had points
about him both to make him feared and respected. He was handsome, even
in spite of his air of debauched effrontery; a man of the most decided
courage, though his vaunting rendered it sometimes doubtful; and
entertained a sincere sense of his political principles, such as they
were, though he was often so imprudent in asserting and boasting of
them, as, joined with his dependence on Colonel Everard, induced prudent
men to doubt his sincerity.

Such as he was, however, he entered the parlour of Victor Lee, where his
presence was any thing but desirable to the parties present, with a
jaunty step, and a consciousness of deserving the best possible
reception. This assurance was greatly aided by circumstances which
rendered it obvious, that if the jocund cavalier had limited himself to
one draught of liquor that evening, in terms of his vow of temperance,
it must have been a very deep and long one.

"Save ye, gentlemen, save ye.--Save you, good Sir Henry Lee, though I
have scarce the honour to be known to you.--Save you, worthy doctor, and
a speedy resurrection to the fallen Church of England."

"You are welcome, sir," said Sir Henry Lee, whose feelings of
hospitality, and of the fraternal reception due to a royalist sufferer,
induced him to tolerate this intrusion more than he might have done
otherwise. "If you have fought or suffered for the King, sir, it is an
excuse for joining us, and commanding our services in any thing in our
power--although at present we are a family-party.--But I think I saw you
in waiting upon Master Markham Everard, who calls himself Colonel
Everard.--If your message is from him, you may wish to see me in
private?"

"Not at all, Sir Henry, not at all.--It is true, as my ill hap will have
it, that being on the stormy side of the hedge--like all honest men--you
understand me, Sir Henry--I am glad, as it were, to gain something from
my old friend and comrade's countenance--not by truckling or disowning
my principles, sir--I defy such practises;--but, in short, by doing him
any kindness in my power when he is pleased to call on me. So I came
down here with a message from him to the old roundheaded son of a ----
(I beg the young lady's pardon, from the crown of her head down to the
very toes of her slipper)--And so, sir, chancing as I was stumbling out
in the dark, I heard you give a toast, sir, which warmed my heart, sir,
and ever will, sir, till death chills it;--and so I made bold to let you
know there was an honest man within hearing."

Such was the self-introduction of Master Wildrake, to which the knight
replied, by asking him to sit down, and take a glass of sack to his
Majesty's glorious restoration. Wildrake, at this hint, squeezed in
without ceremony beside the young Scotsman, and not only pledged his
landlord's toast, but seconded its import, by volunteering a verse or
two of his favourite loyal ditty,--"The King shall enjoy his own again."
The heartiness which he threw into his song opened still farther the
heart of the old knight, though Albert and Alice looked at each other
with looks resentful of the intrusion, and desirous to put an end to it.
The honourable Master Kerneguy either possessed that happy indifference
of temper which does not deign to notice such circumstances, or he was
able to assume the appearance of it to perfection, as he sat sipping
sack, and cracking walnuts, without testifying the least sense that an
addition had been made to the party. Wildrake, who liked the liquor and
the company, showed no unwillingness to repay his landlord, by being at
the expense of the conversation.

"You talk of fighting and suffering, Sir Henry Lee. Lord help us, we
have all had our share. All the world knows what Sir Henry Lee has done
from Edgefield downwards, wherever a loyal sword was drawn, or a loyal
flag fluttered. Ah, God help us! I have done something too. My name is
Roger Wildrake of Squattlesea-mere, Lincoln; not that you are ever like
to have heard it before, but I was captain in Lunsford's light-horse,
and afterwards with Goring. I was a child-eater, sir--a babe-bolter."

"I have heard of your regiment's exploits, sir; and perhaps you may find
I have seen some of them, if we should spend ten minutes together. And I
think I have heard of your name too. I beg to drink your health, Captain
Wildrake of Squattlesea-mere, Lincolnshire."

"Sir Henry, I drink yours in this pint bumper, and upon my knee; and I
would do as much for that young gentleman"--(looking at Albert)--"and
the squire of the green cassock too, holding it for green, as the
colours are not to my eyes altogether clear and distinguishable."

It was a remarkable part of what is called by theatrical folk the
by-play of this scene, that Albert was conversing apart with Dr.
Rochecliffe in whispers, even more than the divine seemed desirous of
encouraging; yet, to whatever their private conversation referred, it
did not deprive the young Colonel of the power of listening to what was
going forward in the party at large, and interfering from time to time,
like a watch-dog, who can distinguish the slightest alarm, even when
employed in the engrossing process of taking his food.

"Captain Wildrake," said Albert, "we have no objection--I mean, my
friend and I--to be communicative on proper occasions; but you, sir, who
are so old a sufferer, must needs know, that at such casual meetings as
this, men do not mention their names unless they are specially wanted.
It is a point of conscience, sir, to be able to say, if your principal,
Captain Everard or Colonel Everard, if he be a Colonel, should examine
you upon oath, I did not know who the persons were whom I heard drink
such and such toasts."

"Faith, I have a better way of it, worthy sir," answered Wildrake; "I
never can, for the life of me, remember that there were any such and
such toasts drunk at all. It's a strange gift of forgetfulness I have."

"Well, sir," replied the younger Lee; "but we, who have unhappily more
tenacious memories, would willingly abide by the more general rule."

"Oh, sir," answered Wildrake, "with all my heart. I intrude on no man's
confidence, d--n me--and I only spoke for civility's sake, having the
purpose of drinking your health in a good fashion"--(Then he broke forth
into melody)--

"'Then let the health go round, a-round, a-round, a-round,
Then let the health go round;
For though your stocking be of silk,
Your knee shall kiss the ground, a-ground, a-ground, a-ground,
Your knee shall kiss the ground.'"

"Urge it no farther," said Sir Henry, addressing his son; "Master
Wildrake is one of the old school--one of the tantivy boys; and we must
bear a little, for if they drink hard they fought well. I will never
forget how a party came up and rescued us clerks of Oxford, as they
called the regiment I belonged to, out of a cursed embroglio during the
attack on Brentford. I tell you we were enclosed with the cockneys'
pikes both front and rear, and we should have come off but ill had not
Lunford's light-horse, the babe-eaters, as they called them, charged up
to the pike's point, and brought us off."

"I am glad you thought on that, Sir Henry," said Wildrake; "and do you
remember what the officer of Lunsford's said?"

"I think I do," said Sir Henry, smiling.

"Well, then, did not he call out, when the women were coming down,
howling like sirens as they were--'Have none of you a plump child that
you could give us to break our fast upon?'"

"Truth itself!" said the knight; "and a great fat woman stepped forward
with a baby, and offered it to the supposed cannibal."

All at the table, Master Kerneguy excepted, who seemed to think that
good food of any kind required no apology, held up their hands in token
of amazement.

"Ay," said Wildrake, "the--a-hem!--I crave the lady's pardon again, from
tip of top-knot to hem of farthingale--but the cursed creature proved to
be a parish nurse, who had been paid for the child half a year in
advance. Gad, I took the babe out of the bitch-wolf's hand; and I have
contrived, though God knows I have lived in a skeldering sort of way
myself, to breed up bold Breakfast, as I call him, ever since. It was
paying dear for a jest, though."

"Sir, I honour you for your humanity," said the old knight--"Sir, I
thank you for your courage--Sir, I am glad to see you here," said the
good knight, his eyes watering almost to overflowing. "So you were the
wild officer who cut us out of the toils; Oh, sir, had you but stopped
when I called on you, and allowed us to clear the streets of Brentford
with our musketeers, we would have been at London Stone that day! But
your good will was the same."

"Ay, truly was it," said Wildrake, who now sat triumphant and glorious
in his easy-chair; "and here is to all the brave hearts, sir, that
fought and fell in that same storm of Brentford. We drove all before us
like chaff, till the shops, where they sold strong waters, and other
temptations, brought us up. Gad, sir, we, the babe-eaters, had too many
acquaintances in Brentford, and our stout Prince Rupert was ever better
at making way than drawing off. Gad, sir, for my own poor share, I did
but go into the house of a poor widow lady, who maintained a charge of
daughters, and whom I had known of old, to get my horse fed, a morsel of
meat, and so forth, when these cockney-pikes of the artillery ground, as
you very well call them, rallied, and came in with their armed heads, as
boldly as so many Cotswold rams. I sprang down stairs, got to my
horse,--but, egad, I fancy all my troop had widows and orphan maidens to
comfort as well as I, for only five of us got together. We cut our way
through successfully; and Gad, gentlemen, I carried my little Breakfast
on the pommel before me; and there was such a hollowing and screeching,
as if the whole town thought I was to kill, roast, and eat the poor
child, so soon as I got to quarters. But devil a cockney charged up to
my bonny bay, poor lass, to rescue little cake-bread; they only cried
haro, and out upon me."

"Alas, alas!" said the knight, "we made ourselves seem worse than we
were; and we were too bad to deserve God's blessing even in a good
cause. But it is needless to look back; we did not deserve victories
when God gave them, for we never improved them like good soldiers, or
like Christian men; and so we gave these canting scoundrels the
advantage of us, for they assumed, out of mere hypocrisy, the discipline
and orderly behaviour which we, who drew our swords in a better cause,
ought to have practised out of true principle. But here is my hand,
Captain. I have often wished to see the honest fellow who charged up so
smartly in our behalf, and I reverence you for the care you took of the
poor child. I am glad this dilapidated place has still some hospitality
to offer you, although we cannot treat you to roasted babes or stewed
sucklings--eh, Captain?"

"Truth, Sir Henry, the scandal was sore against us on that score. I
remember Lacy, who was an old play-actor, and a lieutenant in ours, made
drollery on it in a play which was sometimes acted at Oxford, when our
hearts were something up, called, I think, the Old Troop."

So saying, and feeling more familiar as his merits were known, he
hitched his chair up against that of the Scottish lad, who was seated
next him, and who, in shifting his place, was awkward enough to disturb,
in his turn, Alice Lee, who sate opposite, and, a little offended, or at
least embarrassed, drew her chair away from the table.

"I crave pardon," said the honourable Master Kerneguy; "but, sir," to
Master Wildrake, "ye hae e'en garr'd me hurt the young lady's shank."

"I crave your pardon, sir, and much more that of the fair lady, as is
reasonable; though, rat me, sir, if it was I set your chair a-trundling
in that way. Zooks, sir, I have brought with me no plague, nor
pestilence, nor other infectious disorder, that ye should have started
away as if I had been a leper, and discomposed the lady, which I would
have prevented with my life, sir. Sir, if ye be northern born, as your
tongue bespeaks, egad, it was I ran the risk in drawing near you; so
there was small reason for you to bolt."

"Master Wildrake," said Albert, interfering, "this young gentleman is a
stranger as well as you, under protection of Sir Henry's hospitality,
and it cannot be agreeable for my father to see disputes arise among his
guests. You may mistake the young gentleman's quality from his present
appearance--this is the Honourable Master Louis Kerneguy, sir, son of my
Lord Killstewers of Kincardineshire, one who has fought for the King,
young as he is."

"No dispute shall rise through me, sir--none through me," said Wildrake;
"your exposition sufficeth, sir.--Master Louis Girnigo, son of my Lord
Kilsteer, in Gringardenshire, I am your humble slave, sir, and drink
your health, in token that I honour you, and all true Scots who draw
their Andrew Ferraras on the right side, sir."

"I'se beholden to you, and thank you, sir," said the young man, with
some haughtiness of manner, which hardly corresponded with his
rusticity; "and I wuss your health in a ceevil way."

Most judicious persons would have here dropped the conversation; but it
was one of Wildrake's marked peculiarities, that he could never let
matters stand when they were well. He continued to plague the shy,
proud, and awkward lad with his observations. "You speak your national
dialect pretty strongly, Master Girnigo," said he, "but I think not
quite the language of the gallants that I have known among the Scottish
cavaliers--I knew, for example, some of the Gordons, and others of good
repute, who always put an _f_ for _wh_, as _faat_ for _what_, _fan_ for
_when_, and the like."

Albert Lee here interposed, and said that the provinces of Scotland,
like those of England, had their different modes of pronunciation.

"You are very right, sir," said Wildrake. "I reckon myself, now, a
pretty good speaker of their cursed jargon--no offence, young gentleman;
and yet, when I took a turn with some of Montrose's folk, in the South
Highlands, as they call their beastly wildernesses, (no offence again,)
I chanced to be by myself, and to lose my way, when I said to a
shepherd-fellow, making my mouth as wide, and my voice as broad as I
could, _whore am I ganging till?_--confound me if the fellow could
answer me, unless, indeed, he was sulky, as the bumpkins will be now and
then to the gentlemen of the sword."

This was familiarly spoken, and though partly addressed to Albert, was
still more directed to his immediate neighbour, the young Scotsman, who
seemed, from bashfulness, or some other reason, rather shy of his
intimacy. To one or two personal touches from Wildrake's elbow,
administered during his last speech, by way of a practical appeal to him
in particular, he only answered, "Misunderstandings were to be expected
when men converse in national deealects."

Wildrake, now considerably drunker than he ought to have been in civil
company, caught up the phrase and repeated it:--"Misunderstanding,
sir--Misunderstanding, sir?--I do not know how I am to construe that,
sir; but to judge from the information of these scratches on your
honourable visnomy, I should augur that you had been of late at
misunderstanding with the cat, sir."

"You are mistaken, then, friend, for it was with the dowg," answered the
Scotsman, dryly, and cast a look towards Albert.

"We had some trouble with the watch-dogs in entering so late in the
evening," said Albert, in explanation, "and this youth had a fall among
some rubbish, by which he came by these scratches."

"And now, dear Sir Henry," said Dr. Rochecliffe, "allow us to remind you
of your gout, and our long journey. I do it the rather that my good
friend your son has been, during the whole time of supper, putting
questions to me aside, which had much better be reserved till
to-morrow--May we therefore ask permission to retire to our night's
rest?"

"These private committees in a merry meeting," said Wildrake, "are a
solecism in breeding. They always put me in mind of the cursed
committees at Westminster.--But shall we roost before we rouse the
night-owl with a catch?"

"Aha, canst thou quote Shakspeare?" said Sir Henry, pleased at
discovering a new good quality in his acquaintance, whose military
services were otherwise but just able to counterbalance the intrusive
freedom of his conversation. "In the name of merry Will," he
continued,--"whom I never saw, though I have seen many of his comrades,
as Alleyn, Hemmings, and so on,--we will have a single catch, and one
rouse about, and then to bed."

After the usual discussion about the choice of the song, and the parts
which each was to bear, they united their voices in trolling a loyal
glee, which was popular among the party at the time, and in fact
believed to be composed by no less a person than Dr. Rochecliffe
himself.

GLEE FOR KING CHARLES.

Bring the bowl which you boast,
Fill it up to the brim;
'Tis to him we love most,
And to all who love him.
Brave gallants, stand up.
And avauant, ye base carles!
Were there death in the cup,
Here's a health to King Charles!

Though he wanders through dangers,
Unaided, unknown,
Dependent 'on strangers,
Estranged from his own;
Though 'tis under our breath,
Amidst forfeits and perils,
Here's to honour and faith,
And a health to King Charles!

Let such honours abound
As the time can afford.
The knee on the ground,
And the hand on the sword;
But the time shall come round.
When, 'mid Lords, Dukes, and Earls,
The loud trumpets shall sound
Here's a health to King Charles!

After this display of loyalty, and a final libation, the party took
leave of each other for the night. Sir Henry offered his old
acquaintance Wildrake a bed for the evening, who weighed the matter
somewhat in this fashion: "Why, to speak truth, my patron will expect me
at the borough--but then he is used to my staying out of doors a-nights.
Then there's the Devil, that they say haunts Woodstock; but with the
blessing of this reverend Doctor, I defy him and all his works--I saw
him not when I slept here twice before, and I am sure if he was absent
then, he has not come back with Sir Henry Lee and his family. So I
accept your courtesy, Sir Henry, and I thank you, as a cavalier of
Lunsford should thank one of the fighting clerks of Oxon. God bless the
King! I care not who hears it, and confusion to Noll and his red nose!"
Off he went accordingly with a bottle-swagger, guided by Joceline, to
whom Albert, in the meantime, had whispered, to be sure to quarter him
far enough from the rest of the family.

Young Lee then saluted his sister, and, with the formality of those
times, asked and received his father's blessing with an affectionate
embrace. His page seemed desirous to imitate one part of his example,
but was repelled by Alice, who only replied to his offered salute with a
curtsy. He next bowed his head in an awkward fashion to her father, who
wished him a good night. "I am glad to see, young man," he said, "that
you have at least learned the reverence due to age. It should always be
paid, sir; because in doing so you render that honour to others which
you will expect yourself to receive when you approach the close of your
life. More will I speak with you at leisure, on your duties as a page,
which office in former days used to be the very school of chivalry;
whereas of late, by the disorderly times, it has become little better
than a school of wild and disordered license; which made rare Ben Jonson
exclaim"--

"Nay, father," said Albert, interposing, "you must consider this day's
fatigue, and the poor lad is almost asleep on his legs--to-morrow he
will listen with more profit to your kind admonitions.--And you, Louis,
remember at least one part of your duty--take the candles and light
us--here Joceline comes to show us the way. Once more, good night, good
Dr. Rochecliffe--good night, all."

* * * * *

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.


_Groom._ Hail, noble prince!
_King Richard._ Thanks, noble peer;
The cheapest of us is a groat too dear.
RICHARD II

Albert and his page were ushered by Joceline to what was called the
Spanish Chamber, a huge old scrambling bedroom, rather in a dilapidated
condition, but furnished with a large standing-bed for the master, and a
truckle-bed for the domestic, as was common at a much later period in
old English houses, where the gentleman often required the assistance of
a groom of the chambers to help him to bed, if the hospitality had been
exuberant. The walls were covered with hangings of cordovan leather,
stamped with gold, and representing fights between the Spaniards and
Moriscoes, bull-feasts, and other sports peculiar to the Peninsula, from
which it took its name of the Spanish Chamber. These hangings were in
some places entirely torn down, in others defaced and hanging in
tatters. But Albert stopped not to make observations, anxious, it
seemed, to get Joceline out of the room; which he achieved by hastily
answering his offers of fresh fuel, and more liquor, in the negative,
and returning, with equal conciseness, the under-keeper's good wishes
for the evening. He at length retired, somewhat unwillingly, and as if
he thought that his young master might have bestowed a few more words
upon a faithful old retainer after so long absence.

Joliffe was no sooner gone, than, before a single word was spoken
between Albert Lee and his page, the former hastened to the door,
examined lock, latch, and bolt, and made them fast, with the most
scrupulous attention. He superadded to these precautions that of a long
screw-bolt, which he brought out of his pocket, and which he screwed on
to the staple in such a manner as to render it impossible to withdraw
it, or open the door, unless by breaking it down. The page held a light
to him during the operation, which his master went through with much
exactness and dexterity. But when Albert arose from his knee, on which
he had rested during the accomplishment of this task, the manner of the
companions was on the sudden entirely changed towards each other. The
honourable Master Kerneguy, from a cubbish lout of a raw Scotsman,
seemed to have acquired at once all the grace and ease of motion and
manner, which could be given by an acquaintance of the earliest and most
familiar kind with the best company of the time.

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