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Woodstock; or, The Cavalier

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




Everard exclaimed angrily to Wildrake, "Is this your friendship? In
Heaven's name, what make you in that fool's jacket, and playing the
pranks of a jack-pudding?" while his worthy second, somewhat
crest-fallen, held down his head, like a boy caught in roguery, and went
to pick up his weapon, stretching his head, as he passed, into the
coppice, to obtain another glimpse, if possible, of the concealed object
of his curiosity.

Charles in the meantime, still more surprised at what he beheld, called
out on his part--"What! Doctor Rochecliffe become literally one of the
church militant, and tilting with my friend cavalier Wildrake? May I use
the freedom to ask him to withdraw, as Colonel Everard and I have some
private business to settle?"

It was Dr. Rochecliffe's cue, on this important occasion, to have armed
himself with the authority of his sacred office, and used a tone of
interference which might have overawed even a monarch, and made him feel
that his monitor spoke by a warrant higher than his own. But the
indiscreet latitude he had just given to his own passion, and the levity
in which he had been detected, were very unfavourable to his assuming
that superiority, to which so uncontrollable a spirit as that of
Charles, wilful as a prince, and capricious as a wit, was at all likely
to submit. The Doctor did, however, endeavour to rally his dignity, and
replied, with the gravest, and at the same time the most respectful,
tone he could assume, that he also had business of the most urgent
nature, which prevented him from complying with Master Kerneguy's wishes
and leaving the spot.

"Excuse this untimely interruption," said Charles, taking off his hat,
and bowing to Colonel Everard, "which I will immediately put an end to."
Everard gravely returned his salute, and was silent.

"Are you mad, Doctor Rochecliffe?" said Charles--"or are you deaf?--or
have you forgotten your mother-tongue? I desired you to leave this
place."

"I am not mad," said the divine, rousing up his resolution, and
regaining the natural firmness of his voice--"I would prevent others
from being so; I am not deaf--I would pray others to hear the voice of
reason and religion; I have not forgotten my mother-tongue--but I have
come hither to speak the language of the Master of kings and princes."

"To fence with broomsticks, I should rather suppose," said the King--
"Come, Doctor Rochecliffe, this sudden fit of assumed importance befits
you as little as your late frolic. You are not, I apprehend, either a
Catholic priest or a Scotch Mass-John to claim devoted obedience from
your hearers, but a Church-of-England-man, subject to the rules of that
Communion--and to its HEAD." In speaking the last words, the King
lowered his voice to a low and impressive whisper. Everard observing
this drew back, the natural generosity of his temper directing him to
avoid overhearing private discourse, in which the safety of the speakers
might be deeply concerned. They continued, however, to observe great
caution in their forms of expression.

"Master Kerneguy," said the clergyman, "it is not I who assume authority
or control over your wishes--God forbid; I do but tell you what reason,
Scripture, religion, and morality, alike prescribe for your rule of
conduct."

"And I, Doctor," said the King, smiling, and pointing to the unlucky
cane, "will take your example rather than your precept. If a reverend
clergyman will himself fight a bout at single-stick, what right can he
have to interfere in gentlemen's quarrels?--Come, sir, remove yourself,
and do not let your present obstinacy cancel former obligations."

"Bethink yourself," said the divine,--"I can say one word which will
prevent all this."

"Do it," replied the King, "and in doing so belie the whole tenor and
actions of an honourable life--abandon the principles of your Church,
and become a perjured traitor and an apostate, to prevent another person
from discharging his duty as a gentleman! This were indeed killing your
friend to prevent the risk of his running himself into danger. Let the
Passive Obedience, which is so often in your mouth, and no doubt in your
head, put your feet for once into motion, and step aside for ten
minutes. Within that space your assistance may be needed, either as
body-curer or soul-curer."

"Nay, then," said Dr. Rochecliffe, "I have but one argument left."

While this conversation was carried on apart, Everard had almost
forcibly detained by his own side his follower, Wildrake, whose greater
curiosity, and lesser delicacy, would otherwise have thrust him forward,
to get, if possible, into the secret. But when he saw the Doctor turn
into the coppice, he whispered eagerly to Everard--"A gold Carolus to a
commonwealth farthing, the Doctor has not only come to preach a peace,
but has brought the principal conditions along with him!"

Everard made no answer; he had already unsheathed his sword; and Charles
hardly saw Rochecliffe's back fairly turned, than he lost no time in
following his example. But, ere they had done more than salute each
other, with the usual courteous nourish of their weapons, Dr.
Rochecliffe again stood between them, leading in his hand Alice Lee, her
garments dank with dew, and her long hair heavy with moisture, and
totally uncurled. Her face was extremely pale, but it was the paleness
of desperate resolution, not of fear. There was a dead pause of
astonishment--the combatants rested on their swords--and even the
forwardness of Wildrake only vented itself in half-suppressed
ejaculations, as, "Well done, Doctor--this beats the 'parson among the
pease'--No less than your patron's daughter--And Mistress Alice, whom I
thought a very snowdrop, turned out a dog-violet after all--a
Lindabrides, by heavens, and altogether one of ourselves."

Excepting these unheeded mutterings, Alice was the first to speak.

"Master Everard," she said--"Master Kerneguy, you are surprised to see
me here--Yet, why should I not tell the reason at once? Convinced that I
am, however guiltlessly, the unhappy cause of your misunderstanding, I
am too much interested to prevent fatal consequences to pause upon any
step which may end it.--Master Kerneguy, have my wishes, my entreaties,
my prayers--have your noble thoughts--the recollections of your own high
duties, no weight with you in this matter? Let me entreat you to consult
reason, religion, and common sense, and return your weapon."

"I am obedient as an Eastern slave, madam," answered Charles, sheathing
his sword; "but I assure you, the matter about which you distress
yourself is a mere trifle, which will be much better settled betwixt
Colonel Everard and myself in five minutes, than with the assistance of
the whole Convocation of the Church, with a female parliament to assist
their reverend deliberations.--Mr. Everard, will you oblige me by
walking a little farther?--We must change ground, it seems."

"I am ready to attend you, sir," said Everard, who had sheathed his
sword so soon as his antagonist did so.

"I have then no interest with you, sir," said Alice, continuing to
address the King--"Do you not fear I should use the secret in my power
to prevent this affair going to extremity? Think you this gentleman, who
raises his hand against you, if he knew"--

"If he knew that I were Lord Wilmot, you would say?--Accident has given
him proof to that effect, with which he is already satisfied, and I
think you would find it difficult to induce him to embrace a different
opinion."

Alice paused, and looked on the King with great indignation, the
following words dropping from her mouth by intervals, as if they burst
forth one by one in spite of feelings that would have restrained
them--"Cold--selfish--ungrateful--unkind!--Woe to the land which"--Here
she paused with marked emphasis, then added--"which shall number thee,
or such as thee, among her nobles and rulers!"

"Nay, fair Alice," said Charles, whose good nature could not but feel
the severity of this reproach, though too slightly to make all the
desired impression, "You are too unjust to me--too partial to a happier
man. Do not call me unkind; I am but here to answer Mr. Everard's
summons. I could neither decline attending, nor withdraw now I am here,
without loss of honour; and my loss of honour would be a disgrace which
must extend to many--I cannot fly from Mr. Everard--it would be too
shameful. If he abides by his message, it must be decided as such
affairs usually are. If he retreats or yields it up, I will, for your
sake, wave punctilio. I will not even ask an apology for the trouble it
has afforded me, but let all pass as if it were the consequence of some
unhappy mistake, the grounds of which shall remain on my part unenquired
into.--This I will do for your sake, and it is much for a man of honour
to condescend so far--You know that the condescension from me in
particular is great indeed. Then do not call me ungenerous, or
ungrateful, or unkind, since I am ready to do all, which, as a man, I
can do, and more perhaps than as a man of honour I ought to do."

"Do you hear this, Markham Everard?" exclaimed Alice--"do you hear
this?--The dreadful option is left entirely at your disposal. You were
wont to be temperate in passion, religious, forgiving--will you, for a
mere punctilio, drive on this private and unchristian broil to a
murderous extremity? Believe me, if you now, contrary to all the better
principles of your life, give the reins to your passions, the
consequences may be such as you will rue for your lifetime, and even, if
Heaven have not mercy, rue after your life is finished."

Markham Everard remained for a moment gloomily silent,--with his eyes
fixed on the ground. At length he looked up, and answered her--"Alice,
you are a soldier's daughter--a soldier's sister. All your relations,
even including one whom you then entertained some regard for, have been
made soldiers by these unhappy discords. Yet you have seen them take the
field--in some instances on contrary sides, to do their duty where their
principles called them, without manifesting this extreme degree of
interest."

He continued, "However, what is the true concern here is our relations
with your own self, and mine is with this gentleman's interest in you. I
had expected that our disagreement could be dealt with as men dispute
matters of honor. With your intrusion this cannot be done. I have few
other options for politely resolving this, for you would surely hate the
one who killed the other, to the loss of us both. Therefore," addressing
Charles, "in the interest of avoid this fate, I am forced to yield my
interest in her to you; and, as I will never be the means of giving her
pain, I trust you will not think I act unworthily in retracting the
letter which gave you the trouble of attending this place at this
hour.--Alice," he said, turning his head towards her, "Farewell, Alice,
at once, and for ever!"

The poor young lady, whose adventitious spirit had almost deserted her,
attempted to repeat the word farewell, but failing in the attempt, only
accomplished a broken and imperfect sound, and would have sunk to the
ground, but for Dr. Rochecliffe, who caught her as she fell. Roger
Wildrake, also, who had twice or thrice put to his eyes what remained of
a kerchief, interested by the lady's evident distress, though unable to
comprehend the mysterious cause, hastened to assist the divine in
supporting so fair a burden.

Meanwhile, the disguised Prince had beheld the whole in silence, but
with an agitation to which he was unwonted, and which his swarthy
features, and still more his motions, began to betray. His posture was
at first absolutely stationary, with his arms folded on his bosom, as
one who waits to be guided by the current of events; presently after, he
shifted his position, advanced and retired his foot, clenched and opened
his hand, and otherwise showed symptoms that he was strongly agitated by
contending feelings--was on the point, too, of forming some sudden
resolution, and yet still in uncertainty what course he should pursue.

But when he saw Markham Everard, after one look of unspeakable anguish
towards Alice, turning his back to depart, he broke out into his
familiar ejaculation, "Oddsfish! this must not be." In three strides he
overtook the slowly retiring Everard, tapped him smartly on the
shoulder, and, as he turned round, said, with an air of command, which
he well knew how to adopt at pleasure, "One word with you, sir."

"At your pleasure, sir," replied Everard; and naturally conjecturing the
purpose of his antagonist to be hostile, took hold of his rapier with
the left hand, and laid the right on the hilt, not displeased at the
supposed call; for anger is at least as much akin to disappointment as
pity is said to be to love.

"Pshaw!" answered the King, "that cannot be _now_--Colonel Everard, I am
CHARLES STEWART!"

Everard recoiled in the greatest surprise, and next
exclaimed, "Impossible--it cannot be! The King of Scots has escaped from
Bristol.--My Lord Wilmot, your talents for intrigue are well known; but
this will not pass upon me."

"The King of Scots, Master Everard," replied Charles, "since you are so
pleased to limit his sovereignty--at any rate, the Eldest Son of the
late Sovereign of Britain--is now before you; therefore it is impossible
he could have escaped from Bristol. Doctor Rochecliffe shall be my
voucher, and will tell you, moreover, that Wilmot is of a fair
complexion and light hair; mine, you may see, is swart as a raven."

Rochecliffe, seeing what was passing, abandoned Alice to the care of
Wildrake, whose extreme delicacy in the attempts he made to bring her
back to life, formed an amiable contrast to his usual wildness, and
occupied him so much, that he remained for the moment ignorant of the
disclosure in which he would have been so much interested. As for Dr.
Rochecliffe, he came forward, wringing his hands in all the
demonstration of extreme anxiety, and with the usual exclamations
attending such a state.

"Peace, Doctor Rochecliffe!" said the King, with such complete
self-possession as indeed became a prince; "we are in the hands, I am
satisfied, of a man of honour. Master Everard must be pleased in finding
only a fugitive prince in the person in whom he thought he had
discovered a successful rival. He cannot but be aware of the feelings
which prevented me from taking advantage of the cover which this young
lady's devoted loyalty afforded me, at the risk of her own happiness. He
is the party who is to profit by my candour; and certainly I have a
right to expect that my condition, already indifferent enough, shall not
be rendered worse by his becoming privy to it under such circumstances.
At any rate, the avowal is made; and it is for Colonel Everard to
consider how he is to conduct himself."

"Oh, your Majesty! my Liege! my King! my royal Prince!" exclaimed
Wildrake, who, at length discovering what was passing, had crawled on
his knees, and seizing the King's hand, was kissing it, more like a
child mumbling gingerbread, or like a lover devouring the yielded hand
of his mistress, than in the manner in which such salutations pass at
court--"If my dear friend Mark Everard should prove a dog on this
occasion, rely on me I will cut his throat on the spot, were I to do the
same for myself the moment afterwards!"

"Hush, hush, my good friend and loyal subject," said the King, "and
compose yourself; for though I am obliged to put on the Prince for a
moment, we have not privacy or safety to receive our subjects in King
Cambyses' vein."

Everard, who had stood for a time utterly confounded, awoke at length
like a man from a dream.

"Sire," he said, bowing low, and with profound deference, "if I do not
offer you the homage of a subject with knee and sword, it is because
God, by whom kings reign, has denied you for the present the power of
ascending your throne without rekindling civil war. For your safety
being endangered by me, let not such an imagination for an instant cross
your mind. Had I not respected your person--were I not bound to you for
the candour with which your noble avowal has prevented the misery of my
future life, your misfortunes would have rendered your person as sacred,
so far as I can protect it, as it could be esteemed by the most devoted
royalist in the kingdom. If your plans are soundly considered, and
securely laid, think that all which is now passed is but a dream. If
they are in such a state that I can aid them, saving my duty to the
Commonwealth, which will permit me to be privy to no schemes of actual
violence, your Majesty may command my services."

"It may be I may be troublesome to you, sir," said the King; "for my
fortunes are not such as to permit me to reject even the most limited
offers of assistance; but if I can, I will dispense with applying to
you. I would not willingly put any man's compassion at war with his
sense of duty on my account.--Doctor, I think there will be no farther
tilting to-day, either with sword or cane; so we may as well return to
the Lodge, and leave these"--looking at Alice and Everard--"who may have
more to say in explanation."

"No--no!" exclaimed Alice, who was now perfectly come to herself, and
partly by her own observation, and partly from the report of Dr.
Rochecliffe, comprehended all that had taken place--"My cousin Everard
and I have nothing to explain; he will forgive me for having riddled
with him when I dared not speak plainly; and I forgive him for having
read my riddle wrong. But my father has my promise--we must not
correspond or converse for the present--I return instantly to the Lodge,
and he to Woodstock, unless you, sire," bowing to the King, "command his
duty otherwise. Instant to the town, Cousin Markham; and if danger
should approach, give us warning."

Everard would have delayed her departure, would have excused himself for
his unjust suspicion, would have said a thousand things; but she would
not listen to him, saying, for all other answer,--"Farewell, Markham,
till God send better days!"

"She is an angel of truth and beauty," said Roger Wildrake; "and I, like
a blasphemous heretic, called her a Lindabrides!" [Footnote: A sort of
court name for a female of no reputation.] But has your Majesty, craving
your pardon, no commands for poor Hodge Wildrake, who will blow out his
own or any other man's brains in England, to do your Grace a pleasure?"

"We entreat our good friend Wildrake to do nothing hastily," said
Charles, smiling; "such brains as his are rare, and should not be rashly
dispersed, as the like may not be easily collected. We recommend him to
be silent and prudent--to tilt no more with loyal clergymen of the
Church of England, and to get himself a new jacket with all convenient
speed, to which we beg to contribute our royal aid. When fit time comes,
we hope to find other service for him."

As he spoke, he slid ten pieces into the hand of poor Wildrake, who,
confounded with the excess of his loyal gratitude, blubbered like a
child, and would have followed the King, had not Dr. Rochecliffe, in few
words, but peremptory, insisted that he should return with his patron,
promising him he should certainly be employed in assisting the King's
escape, could an opportunity be found of using his services.

"Be so generous, reverend sir, and you bind me to you for ever," said
the cavalier; "and I conjure you not to keep malice against me on
account of the foolery you wot of."

"I have no occasion, Captain Wildrake," said the Doctor, "for I think I
had the best of it."

"Well, then, Doctor, I forgive you on my part: and I pray you, for
Christian charity, let me have a finger in this good service; for as I
live in hope of it, rely that I shall die of disappointment."

While the Doctor and soldier thus spoke together, Charles took leave of
Everard, (who remained uncovered while he spoke to him,) with his usual
grace--"I need not bid you no longer be jealous of me," said the King;
"for I presume you will scarce think of a match betwixt Alice and me,
which would be too losing a one on her side. For other thoughts, the
wildest libertine could not entertain them towards so high-minded a
creature; and believe me, that my sense of her merit did not need this
last distinguished proof of her truth and loyalty. I saw enough of her
from her answers to some idle sallies of gallantry, to know with what a
lofty character she is endowed. Mr. Everard, her happiness I see depends
on you, and I trust you will be the careful guardian of it. If we can
take any obstacle out of the way of your joint happiness, be assured we
will use our influence.--Farewell, sir; if we cannot be better friends,
do not at least let us entertain harder or worse thoughts of each other
than we have now."

There was something in the manner of Charles that was extremely
affecting; something too, in his condition as a fugitive in the kingdom
which was his own by inheritance, that made a direct appeal to Everard's
bosom--though in contradiction to the dictates of that policy which he
judged it his duty to pursue in the distracted circumstances of the
country. He remained, as we have said, uncovered; and in his manner
testified the highest expression of reverence, up to the point when such
might seem a symbol of allegiance. He bowed so low as almost to approach
his lips to the hand of Charles--but he did not kiss it.--"I would
rescue your person, sir," he said, "with the purchase of my own life.
More"--He stopped short, and the King took up his sentence where it
broke off--"More you cannot do," said Charles, "to maintain an
honourable consistency--but what you have said is enough. You cannot
render homage to my proffered hand as that of a sovereign, but you will
not prevent my taking yours as a friend--if you allow me to call myself
so--I am sure, as a well-wisher at least."

The generous soul of Everard was touched--He took the King's hand, and
pressed it to his lips.

"Oh!" he said, "were better times to come"--

"Bind yourself to nothing, dear Everard," said the good-natured Prince,
partaking his emotion--"We reason ill while our feelings are moved. I
will recruit no man to his loss, nor will I have my fallen fortunes
involve those of others, because they have humanity enough to pity my
present condition. If better times come, why we will meet again, and I
hope to our mutual satisfaction. If not, as your future father-in-law
would say," (a benevolent smile came over his face, and accorded not
unmeetly with his glistening eyes,)--"If not, this parting was well
made."

Everard turned away with a deep bow, almost choking under contending
feelings; the uppermost of which was a sense of the generosity with
which Charles, at his own imminent risk, had cleared away the darkness
that seemed about to overwhelm his prospects of happiness for life--
mixed with a deep sense of the perils by which he was environed. He
returned to the little town, followed by his attendant Wildrake, who
turned back so often, with weeping eyes, and hands clasped and uplifted
as supplicating Heaven, that Everard was obliged to remind him that his
gestures might be observed by some one, and occasion suspicion.

The generous conduct of the King during the closing part of this
remarkable scene, had not escaped Alice's notice; and, erasing at once
from her mind all resentment of Charles's former conduct, and all the
suspicions they had deservedly excited, awakened in her bosom a sense of
the natural goodness of his disposition, which permitted her to unite
regard for his person, with that reverence for his high office in which
she had been educated as a portion of her creed. She felt convinced, and
delighted with the conviction, that his virtues were his own, his
libertinism the fault of education, or rather want of education, and the
corrupting advice of sycophants and flatterers. She could not know, or
perhaps did not in that moment consider, that in a soil where no care is
taken to eradicate tares, they will outgrow and smother the wholesome
seed, even if the last is more natural to the soil. For, as Dr.
Rochecliffe informed her afterwards for her edification, promising, as
was his custom, to explain the precise words on some future occasion, if
she would put him in mind--_Virtus rectorem ducemque desiderat; Vitia
sine magistro discuntur_. [Footnote: The quotations of the learned
doctor and antiquary were often left uninterpreted, though seldom
incommunicated, owing to his contempt for those who did not understand
the learned languages, and his dislike to the labour of translation, for
the benefit of ladies and of country gentlemen. That fair readers and
country thanes may not on this occasion burst in ignorance, we add the
meaning of the passage in the text--"Virtue requires the aid of a
governor and director; vices are learned without a teacher."] There was
no room for such reflections at present. Conscious of mutual sincerity,
by a sort of intellectual communication, through which individuals are
led to understand each other better, perhaps, in delicate circumstances,
than by words, reserve and simulation appeared to be now banished from
the intercourse between the King and Alice. With manly frankness, and,
at the same time, with princely condescension, he requested her,
exhausted as she was, to accept of his arm on the way homeward, instead
of that of Dr. Rochecliffe; and Alice accepted of his support with
modest humility, but without a shadow of mistrust or fear. It seemed as
if the last half hour had satisfied them perfectly with the character of
each other, and that each had full conviction of the purity and
sincerity of the other's intentions.

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