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Woodstock; or, The Cavalier

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




"She is ambitious," thought Charles; "it is by dazzling her love of
glory, not by mere passionate entreaties, that I must hope to be
successful.--I pray you be seated, my fair Alice," he said; "the lover
entreats--the King commands you."

"The King," said Alice, "may permit the relaxation of the ceremonies due
to royalty, but he cannot abrogate the subject's duty, even by express
command. I stand here while it is your Majesty's pleasure to address--a
patient listener, as in duty bound."

"Know then, simple girl," said the King, "that in accepting my proffered
affection and protection, you break through no law either of virtue or
morality. Those who are born to royalty are deprived of many of the
comforts of private life--chiefly that which is, perhaps, the dearest
and most precious, the power of choosing their own mates for life. Their
formal weddings are guided upon principles of political expedience only,
and those to whom they are wedded are frequently, in temper, person, and
disposition, the most unlikely to make them happy. Society has
commiseration, therefore, towards us, and binds our unwilling and often
unhappy wedlocks with chains of a lighter and more easy character than
those which fetter other men, whose marriage ties, as more voluntarily
assumed, ought, in proportion, to be more strictly binding. And
therefore, ever since the time that old Henry built these walls, priests
and prelates, as well as nobles and statesmen, have been accustomed to
see a fair Rosamond rule the heart of an affectionate monarch, and
console him for the few hours of constraint and state which he must
bestow upon some angry and jealous Eleanor. To such a connection the
world attaches no blame; they rush to the festival to admire the beauty
of the lovely Esther, while the imperious Vashti is left to queen it in
solitude; they throng the palace to ask her protection, whose influence
is more in the state an hundred times than that of the proud consort;
her offspring rank with the nobles of the land, and vindicate by their
courage, like the celebrated Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, their descent
from royalty and from love. From such connections our richest ranks of
nobles are recruited; and the mother lives, in the greatness of her
posterity honoured and blest, as she died lamented and wept in the arms
of love and friendship."

"Did Rosamond so die, my lord?" said Alice. "Our records say she was
poisoned by the injured Queen--poisoned, without time allowed to call to
God for the pardon of her many faults. Did her memory so live? I have
heard that, when the Bishop purified the church at Godstowe, her
monument was broken open by his orders, and her bones thrown out into
unconsecrated ground."

"Those were rude old days, sweet Alice," answered Charles; "queens are
not now so jealous, nor bishops so rigorous. And know, besides, that in
the lands to which I would lead the loveliest of her sex, other laws
obtain, which remove from such ties even the slightest show of scandal.
There is a mode of matrimony, which, fulfilling all the rites of the
Church, leaves no stain on the conscience; yet investing the bride with
none of the privileges peculiar to her husband's condition, infringes
not upon the duties which the King owes to his subjects. So that Alice
Lee may, in all respects, become the real and lawful wife of Charles
Stewart, except that their private union gives her no title to be Queen
of England."

"My ambition," said Alice, "will be sufficiently gratified to see
Charles king, without aiming to share either his dignity in public, or
his wealth and regal luxury in private."

"I understand thee, Alice," said the King, hurt but not displeased. "You
ridicule me, being a fugitive, for speaking like a king. It is a habit,
I admit, which I have learned, and of which even misfortune cannot cure
me. But my case is not so desperate as you may suppose. My friends are
still many in these kingdoms; my allies abroad are bound, by regard to
their own interest, to espouse my cause. I have hopes given me from
Spain, from France, and from other nations; and I have confidence that
my father's blood has not been poured forth in vain, nor is doomed to
dry up without due vengeance. My trust is in Him from whom princes
derive their title, and, think what thou wilt of my present condition, I
have perfect confidence that I shall one day sit on the throne of
England."

"May God grant it!" said Alice; "and that he _may_ grant it, noble
Prince, deign to consider--whether you now pursue a conduct likely to
conciliate his favour. Think of the course you recommend to a motherless
maiden, who has no better defence against your sophistry, than what a
sense of morality, together with the natural feeling of female dignity
inspires. Whether the death of her father, which would be the
consequence of her imprudence;--whether the despair of her brother,
whose life has been so often in peril to save that of your Majesty;--
whether the dishonour of the roof which has sheltered you, will read
well in your annals, or are events likely to propitiate God, whose
controversy with your House has been but too visible, or recover the
affections of the people of England, in whose eyes such actions are an
abomination, I leave to your own royal mind to consider."

Charles paused, struck with a turn to the conversation which placed his
own interests more in collision with the gratification of his present
passion than he had supposed.

"If your Majesty," said Alice, curtsying deeply, "has no farther
commands for my attendance, may I be permitted to withdraw?"

"Stay yet a little, strange and impracticable girl," said the King; "and
answer me but one question:--Is it the lowness of my present fortunes
that makes my suit contemptible?"

"I have nothing to conceal, my liege," she said, "and my answer shall be
as plain and direct as the question you have asked. If I could have been
moved to an act of ignominious, insane, and ungrateful folly, it could
only arise from my being blinded by that passion, which I believe is
pleaded as an excuse for folly and for crime much more often than it has
a real existence. I must, in short, have been in love, as it is
called--and that might have been--with my equal, but surely never with
my sovereign, whether such only in title, or in possession of his
kingdom."

"Yet loyalty was ever the pride, almost the ruling passion, of your
family, Alice," said the King.

"And could I reconcile that loyalty," said Alice, "with indulging my
sovereign, by permitting him to prosecute a suit dishonourable to
himself as to me? Ought I, as a faithful subject, to join him in a
folly, which might throw yet another stumbling-block in the path to his
restoration, and could only serve to diminish his security, even if he
were seated upon his throne?"

"At this rate," said Charles, discontentedly, "I had better have
retained my character of the page, than assumed that of a sovereign,
which it seems is still more irreconcilable with my wishes."

"My candour shall go still farther," said Alice. "I could have felt as
little for Louis Kerneguy as for the heir of Britain; for such love as I
have to bestow, (and it is not such as I read of in romance, or hear
poured forth in song,) has been already conferred on another object.
This gives your Majesty pain--I am sorry for it--but the wholesomest
medicines are often bitter."

"Yes," answered the King, with some asperity, "and physicians are
reasonable enough to expect their patients to swallow them, as if they
were honeycomb. It is true, then, that whispered tale of the cousin
Colonel, and the daughter of the loyal Lee has set her heart upon a
rebellious fanatic?"

"My love was given ere I knew what these words fanatic and rebel meant.
I recalled it not, for I am satisfied, that amidst the great
distractions which divide the kingdom, the person to whom you allude has
chosen his part, erroneously, perhaps, but conscientiously--he,
therefore, has still the highest place in my affection and esteem. More
he cannot have, and will not ask, until some happy turn shall reconcile
these public differences, and my father be once more reconciled to him.
Devoutly do I pray that such an event may occur by your Majesty's speedy
and unanimous restoration!"

"You have found out a reason," said the King, pettishly, "to make me
detest the thought of such a change--nor have you, Alice, any sincere
interest to pray for it. On the contrary, do you not see that your
lover, walking side by side with Cromwell, may, or rather must, share
his power? nay, if Lambert does not anticipate him, he may trip up
Oliver's heels, and reign in his stead. And think you not he will find
means to overcome the pride of the loyal Lees, and achieve an union, for
which things are better prepared than that which Cromwell is said to
meditate betwixt one of his brats and the no less loyal heir of
Fauconberg?"

"Your Majesty," said Alice, "has found a way at length to avenge
yourself--if what I have said deserves vengeance."

"I could point out a yet shorter road to your union," said Charles,
without minding her distress, or perhaps enjoying the pleasure of
retaliation. "Suppose that you sent your Colonel word that there was one
Charles Stewart here, who had come to disturb the Saints in their
peaceful government, which they had acquired by prayer and preaching,
pike and gun,--and suppose he had the art to bring down a half-score of
troopers, quite enough, as times go, to decide the fate of this heir of
royalty--think you not the possession of such a prize as this might
obtain from the Rumpers, or from Cromwell, such a reward as might
overcome your father's objections to a roundhead's alliance, and place
the fair Alice and her cousin Colonel in full possession of their
wishes?"

"My liege," said Alice, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes sparkling--for
she too had her share of the hereditary temperament of her family,--
"this passes my patience. I have heard, without expressing anger, the
most ignominious persuasions addressed to myself, and I have vindicated
myself for refusing to be the paramour of a fugitive Prince, as if I had
been excusing myself from accepting a share of an actual crown. But do
you think I can hear all who are dear to me slandered without emotion or
reply? I will not, sir; and were you seated with all the terrors of your
father's Star-chamber around you, you should hear me defend the absent
and the innocent. Of my father I will say nothing, but that if he is now
without wealth--without state, almost without a sheltering home and
needful food--it is because he spent all in the service of the King. He
needed not to commit any act of treachery or villany to obtain wealth--
he had an ample competence in his own possessions. For Markham Everard--
he knows no such thing as selfishness--he would not, for broad England,
had she the treasures of Peru in her bosom, and a paradise on her
surface, do a deed that would disgrace his own name, or injure the
feelings of another--Kings, my liege, may take a lesson from him. My
liege, for the present I take my leave."

"Alice, Alice--stay!" exclaimed the King. "She is gone.--This must be
virtue--real, disinterested, overawing virtue--or there is no such thing
on earth. Yet Wilmot and Villiers will not believe a word of it, but add
the tale to the other wonders of Woodstock. 'Tis a rare wench! and I
profess, to use the Colonel's obtestation, that I know not whether to
forgive and be friends with her, or study a dire revenge. If it were not
for that accursed cousin--that puritan Colonel--I could forgive every
thing else to so noble a wench. But a roundheaded rebel preferred to
me--the preference avowed to my face, and justified with the assertion,
that a king might take a lesson from him--it is gall and wormwood. If
the old man had not come up this morning as he did, the King should have
taken or given a lesson, and a severe one. It was a mad rencontre to
venture upon with my rank and responsibility--and yet this wench has
made me so angry with her, and so envious of him, that if an opportunity
offered, I should scarce be able to forbear him.--Ha! whom have we
here?"

The interjection at the conclusion of this royal soliloquy, was
occasioned by the unexpected entrance of another personage of the drama.

* * * * *

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.


_Benedict_. Shall I speak a word in your ear?
_Claudio_. God bless me from a challenge.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

As Charles was about to leave the apartment, he was prevented by the
appearance of Wildrake, who entered with an unusual degree of swagger in
his gait, and of fantastic importance on his brow. "I crave your pardon,
fair sir," he said; "but, as they say in my country, when doors are open
dogs enter. I have knocked and called in the hall to no purpose; so,
knowing the way to this parlour, sir,--for I am a light partisan, and
the road I once travel I never forget,--I ventured to present myself
unannounced."

"Sir Henry Lee is abroad, sir, I believe, in the Chase," said Charles,
coldly, for the appearance of this somewhat vulgar debauchee was not
agreeable to him at the moment, "and Master Albert Lee has left the
Lodge for two or three days."

"I am aware of it, sir," said Wildrake; "but I have no business at
present with either."

"And with whom is your business?" said Charles; "that is, if I may be
permitted to ask--since I think it cannot in possibility be with me."

"Pardon me in turn, sir," answered the cavalier; "in no possibility can
it be imparted to any other but yourself, if you be, as I think you are,
though in something better habit, Master Louis Girnigo, the Scottish
gentleman who waits upon Master Albert Lee."

"I am all you are like to find for him," answered Charles.

"In truth," said the cavalier, "I do perceive a difference, but rest,
and better clothing, will do much; and I am glad of it, since I would be
sorry to have brought a message, such as I am charged with, to a
tatterdemalion."

"Let us get to the business, sir, if you please," said the King--"you
have a message for me, you say?"

"True, sir," replied Wildrake; "I am the friend of Colonel Markham
Everard, sir, a tall man, and a worthy person in the field, although I
could wish him a better cause--A message I have to you, it is certain,
in a slight note, which I take the liberty of presenting with the usual
formalities." So saying, he drew his sword, put the billet he mentioned
upon the point, and making a profound bow, presented it to Charles.

The disguised Monarch accepted of it, with a grave return of the salute,
and said, as he was about to open the letter, "I am not, I presume, to
expect friendly contents in an epistle presented in so hostile a
manner?"

"A-hem, sir," replied the ambassador, clearing his voice, while he
arranged a suitable answer, in which the mild strain of diplomacy might
be properly maintained; "not utterly hostile, I suppose, sir, is the
invitation, though it be such as must be construed in the commencement
rather bellicose and pugnacious. I trust, sir, we shall find that a few
thrusts will make a handsome conclusion of the business; and so, as my
old master used to say, _Pax mascitur ex bello_. For my own poor share,
I am truly glad to have been graced by my friend, Markham Everard, in
this matter--the rather as I feared the puritan principles with which he
is imbued, (I will confess the truth to you, worthy sir,) might have
rendered him unwilling, from certain scruples, to have taken the
gentlemanlike and honourable mode of righting himself in such a case as
the present. And as I render a friend's duty to my friend, so I humbly
hope, Master Louis Girnigo, that I do no injustice to you, in preparing
the way for the proposed meeting, where, give me leave to say, I trust,
that if no fatal accident occur, we shall be all better friends when the
skirmish is over than we were before it began."

"I should suppose so, sir, in any case," said Charles, looking at the
letter; "worse than mortal enemies we can scarce be, and it is that
footing upon which this billet places us."

"You say true, sir," said Wildrake; "it is, sir, a cartel, introducing
to a single combat, for the pacific object of restoring a perfect good
understanding betwixt the survivors--in case that fortunately that word
can be used in the plural after the event of the meeting."

"In short, we only fight, I suppose," replied the King, "that we may
come to a perfectly good and amicable understanding?"

"You are right again, sir; and I thank you for the clearness of your
apprehension," said Wildrake.--"Ah, sir, it is easy to do with a person
of honour and of intellect in such a case as this. And I beseech you,
sir, as a personal kindness to myself, that, as the morning is like to
be frosty, and myself am in some sort rheumatic--as war will leave its
scars behind, sir,--I say, I will entreat of you to bring with you some
gentleman of honour, who will not disdain to take part in what is going
forward--a sort of pot-luck, sir--with a poor old soldier like myself--
that we may take no harm by standing unoccupied during such cold
weather."

"I understand, sir," replied Charles; "if this matter goes forward, be
assured I will endeavour to provide you with a suitable opponent."

"I shall remain greatly indebted to you, sir," said Wildrake; "and I am
by no means curious about the quality of my antagonist. It is true I
write myself esquire and gentleman, and should account myself especially
honoured by crossing my sword with that of Sir Henry or Master Albert
Lee; but, should that not be convenient, I will not refuse to present my
poor person in opposition to any gentleman who has served the King,--
which I always hold as a sort of letters of nobility in itself, and,
therefore, would on no account decline the duello with such a person."

"The King is much obliged to you, sir," said Charles, "for the honour
you do his faithful subjects."

"O, sir, I am scrupulous on that point--very scrupulous.--When there is
a roundhead in question, I consult the Herald's books, to see that he is
entitled to bear arms, as is Master Markham Everard, without which, I
promise you, I had borne none of his cartel. But a cavalier is with me a
gentleman, of course--Be his birth ever so low, his loyalty has ennobled
his condition."

"It is well, sir," said the King. "This paper requests me to meet Master
Everard at six to-morrow morning, at the tree called the King's Oak--I
object neither to place nor time. He proffers the sword, at which, he
says, we possess some equality--I do not decline the weapon; for
company, two gentlemen--I shall endeavour to procure myself an
associate, and a suitable partner for you, sir, if you incline to join
in the dance."

"I kiss your hand, sir, and rest yours, under a sense of obligation,"
answered the envoy.

"I thank you, sir," continued the King; "I will therefore be ready at
place and time, and suitably furnished; and I will either give your
friend such satisfaction with my sword as he requires, or will render
him such cause for not doing so as he will be contented with."

"You will excuse me, sir," said Wildrake, "if my mind is too dull, under
the circumstances, to conceive any alternative that can remain betwixt
two men of honour in such a case, excepting--sa--sa--." He threw himself
into a fencing position, and made a pass with his sheathed rapier, but
not directed towards the person of the King, whom he addressed.

"Excuse me, sir," said Charles, "if I do not trouble your intellects
with the consideration of a case which may not occur.--But, for example,
I may plead urgent employment on the part of the public." This he spoke
in a low and mysterious tone of voice, which Wildrake appeared perfectly
to comprehend; for he laid his forefinger on his nose with what he meant
for a very intelligent and apprehensive nod.

"Sir," said he, "if you be engaged in any affair for the King, my friend
shall have every reasonable degree of patience--Nay, I will fight him
myself in your stead, merely to stay his stomach, rather than you should
be interrupted.--And, sir, if you can find room in your enterprise for a
poor gentleman that has followed Lunsford and Goring, you have but to
name day, time, and place of rendezvous; for truly, sir, I am tired of
the scald hat, cropped hair, and undertaker's cloak, with which my
friend has bedizened me, and would willingly ruffle it out once more in
the King's cause, when whether I be banged or hanged, I care not."

"I shall remember what you say, sir, should an opportunity occur," said
the King; "and I wish his Majesty had many such subjects--I presume our
business is now settled?"

"When you shall have been pleased, sir, to give me a trifling scrap of
writing, to serve for my credentials--for such, you know, is the
custom--your written cartel hath its written answer."

"That, sir, will I presently do," said Charles, "and in good time, here
are the materials."

"And, sir," continued the envoy--"Ah!--ahem!--if you have interest in
the household for a cup of sack--I am a man of few words, and am
somewhat hoarse with much speaking--moreover, a serious business of this
kind always makes one thirsty.--Besides, sir, to part with dry lips
argues malice, which God forbid should exist in such an honourable
conjuncture."

"I do not boast much influence in the house, sir," said the King; "but
if you would have the condescension to accept of this broad piece
towards quenching your thirst at the George"--

"Sir," said the cavalier, (for the times admitted of this strange
species of courtesy, nor was Wildrake a man of such peculiar delicacy as
keenly to dispute the matter,)--"I am once again beholden to you. But I
see not how it consists with my honour to accept of such accommodation,
unless you were to accompany and partake?"

"Pardon me, sir," replied Charles, "my safety recommends that I remain
rather private at present."

"Enough said," Wildrake observed; "poor cavaliers must not stand on
ceremony. I see, sir, you understand cutter's law--when one tall fellow
has coin, another must not be thirsty. I wish you, sir, a continuance of
health and happiness until to-morrow, at the King's Oak, at six
o'clock."

"Farewell, sir," said the King, and added, as Wildrake went down the
stair whistling, "Hey for cavaliers," to which air his long rapier,
jarring against the steps and banisters, bore no unsuitable burden--
"Farewell, thou too just emblem of the state, to which war, and defeat,
and despair, have reduced many a gallant gentleman."

During the rest of the day, there occurred nothing peculiarly deserving
of notice. Alice sedulously avoided showing towards the disguised Prince
any degree of estrangement or shyness, which could be discovered by her
father, or by any one else. To all appearance, the two young persons
continued on the same footing in every respect. Yet she made the gallant
himself sensible, that this apparent intimacy was assumed merely to save
appearances, and in no way designed as retracting from the severity with
which she had rejected his suit. The sense that this was the case,
joined to his injured self-love, and his enmity against a successful
rival, induced Charles early to withdraw himself to a solitary walk in
the wilderness, where, like Hercules in the Emblem of Cebes, divided
betwixt the personifications of Virtue and of Pleasure, he listened
alternately to the voice of Wisdom and of passionate Folly.

Prudence urged to him the importance of his own life to the future
prosecution of the great object in which he had for the present
miscarried--the restoration of monarchy in England, the rebuilding of
the throne, the regaining the crown of his father, the avenging his
death, and restoring to their fortunes and their country the numerous
exiles, who were suffering poverty and banishment on account of their
attachment to his cause. Pride too, or rather a just and natural sense
of dignity, displayed the unworthiness of a Prince descending to actual
personal conflict with a subject of any degree, and the ridicule which
would be thrown on his memory, should he lose his life for an obscure
intrigue by the hand of a private gentleman. What would his sage
counsellors, Nicholas and Hyde--what would his kind and wise governor,
the Marquis of Hertford, say to such an act of rashness and folly? Would
it not be likely to shake the allegiance of the staid and prudent
persons of the royalist party, since wherefore should they expose their
lives and estates to raise to the government of a kingdom a young man
who could not command his own temper? To this was to be added, the
consideration that even his success would add double difficulties to his
escape, which already seemed sufficiently precarious. If, stopping short
of death, he merely had the better of his antagonist, how did he know
that he might not seek revenge by delivering up to government the
malignant Louis Kerneguy, whose real character could not in that case
fail to be discovered?

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