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Woodstock; or, The Cavalier

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




"You do me injustice, sir," answered the young lady, with a voice
animated yet faltering, "cruel injustice. God knows, your way is my way,
though it lead to ruin and beggary; and while you tread it, my arm shall
support you while you will accept an aid so feeble."

"Thou word'st me, girl," answered the old cavalier, "thou word'st me, as
Will Shakspeare says--thou speakest of lending me thy arm; but thy
secret thought is thyself to hang upon Markham Everard's."

"My father, my father," answered Alice, in a tone of deep grief, "what
can thus have altered your clear judgment and kindly heart!--Accursed be
these civil commotions; not only do they destroy men's bodies, but they
pervert their souls; and the brave, the noble, the generous, become
suspicious, harsh, and mean! Why upbraid me with Markham Everard? Have I
seen or spoke to him since you forbid him my company, with terms less
kind--I will speak it truly--than was due even to the relationship
betwixt you? Why think I would sacrifice to that young man my duty to
you? Know, that were I capable of such criminal weakness, Markham
Everard were the first to despise me for it."

She put her handkerchief to her eyes, but she could not hide her sobs,
nor conceal the distress they intimated. The old man was moved.

"I cannot tell," he said, "what to think of it. Thou seem'st sincere,
and wert ever a good and kindly daughter--how thou hast let that rebel
youth creep into thy heart I wot not; perhaps it is a punishment on me,
who thought the loyalty of my house was like undefiled ermine. Yet here
is a damned spot, and on the fairest gem of all--my own dear Alice. But
do not weep--we have enough to vex us. Where is it that Shakspeare hath
it:--

'Gentle daughter,
Give even way unto my rough affairs:
Put you not on the temper of the times,
Nor be, like them, to Percy troublesome.'"

"I am glad," answered the young lady, "to hear you quote your favourite
again, sir. Our little jars are ever wellnigh ended when Shakspeare
comes in play."

"His book was the closet-companion of my blessed master," said Sir Henry
Lee; "after the Bible, (with reverence for naming them together,) he
felt more comfort in it than in any other; and as I have shared his
disease, why, it is natural I should take his medicine. Albeit, I
pretend not to my master's art in explaining the dark passages; for I am
but a rude man, and rustically brought up to arms and hunting."

"You have seen Shakspeare yourself, sir?" said the young lady.

"Silly wench," replied the knight, "he died when I was a mere
child--thou hast heard me say so twenty times; but thou wouldst lead the
old man away from the tender subject. Well, though I am not blind, I can
shut my eyes and follow. Ben Jonson I knew, and could tell thee many a
tale of our meetings at the Mermaid, where, if there was much wine,
there was much wit also. We did not sit blowing tobacco in each other's
faces, and turning up the whites of our eyes as we turned up the bottom
of the wine-pot. Old Ben adopted me as one of his sons in the muses. I
have shown you, have I not, the verses, 'To my much beloved son, the
worshipful Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley, Knight and Baronet?'"

"I do not remember them at present, sir," replied Alice.

"I fear ye lie, wench," said her father; "but no matter--thou canst not
get any more fooling out of me just now. The Evil Spirit hath left Saul
for the present. We are now to think what is to be done about leaving
Woodstock--or defending it?"

"My dearest father," said Alice, "can you still nourish a moment's hope
of making good the place?"

"I know not, wench," replied Sir Henry; "I would fain have a parting
blow with them, 'tis certain--and who knows where a blessing may alight?
But then, my poor knaves that must take part with me in so hopeless a
quarrel--that thought hampers me I confess."

"Oh, let it do so, sir," replied Alice; "there are soldiers in the town,
and there are three regiments at Oxford!"

"Ah, poor Oxford!" exclaimed Sir Henry, whose vacillating state of mind
was turned by a word to any new subject that was suggested,--"Seat of
learning and loyalty! these rude soldiers are unfit inmates for thy
learned halls and poetical bowers; but thy pure and brilliant lamp shall
defy the foul breath of a thousand churls, were they to blow at it like
Boreas. The burning bush shall not be consumed, even by the heat of this
persecution."

"True, sir," said Alice, "and it may not be useless to recollect, that
any stirring of the royalists at this unpropitious moment will make them
deal yet more harshly with the University, which they consider as being
at the bottom of every thing which moves for the King in these parts."

"It is true, wench," replied the knight; "and small cause would make the
villains sequestrate the poor remains which the civil wars have left to
the colleges. That, and the risk of my poor fellows--Well! thou hast
disarmed me, girl. I will be as patient and calm as a martyr."

"Pray God you keep your word, sir!" replied his daughter; "but you are
ever so much moved at the sight of any of these men, that"--

"Would you make a child of me, Alice?" said Sir Henry. "Why, know you
not that I can look upon a viper, or a toad, or a bunch of engendering
adders, without any worse feeling than a little disgust? and though a
roundhead, and especially a red-coat, are in my opinion more poisonous
than vipers, more loathsome than toads, more hateful than knotted
adders, yet can I overcome my nature so far, that should one of them
appear at this moment, thyself should see how civilly I would entreat
him."

As he spoke, the military preacher abandoned his leafy screen, and
stalking forward, stood unexpectedly before the old cavalier, who stared
at him, as if he had thought his expressions had actually raised a
devil.

"Who art thou?" at length said Sir Henry, in a raised and angry voice,
while his daughter clung to his arm in terror, little confident that her
father's pacific resolutions would abide the shock of this unwelcome
apparition.

"I am, one," replied the soldier, "who neither fear nor shame to call
myself a poor day-labourer in the great work of England--umph!--Ay, a
simple and sincere upholder of the good old cause."

"And what the devil do you seek here?" said the old knight, fiercely.

"The welcome due to the steward of the Lords Commissioners," answered
the soldier.

"Welcome art thou as salt would be to sore eyes," said the cavalier;
"but who be your Commissioners, man?"

The soldier with little courtesy held out a scroll, which Sir Henry took
from him betwixt his finger and thumb, as if it were a letter from a
pest-house; and held it at as much distance from his eyes, as his
purpose of reading it would permit. He then read aloud, and as he named
the parties one by one, he added a short commentary on each name,
addressed, indeed, to Alice, but in such a tone that showed he cared not
for its being heard by the soldier.

"_Desborough_--the ploughman Desborough--as grovelling a clown as is in
England--a fellow that would be best at home like an ancient Scythian,
under the tilt of a waggon--d--n him. _Harrison_--a bloody-minded,
ranting enthusiast, who read the Bible to such purpose, that he never
lacked a text to justify a murder--d--n him too. _Bletson_--a true-blue
Commonwealth's man, one of Harrison's Rota Club, with his noddle full of
new fangled notions about government, the clearest object of which is to
establish the tail upon the head; a fellow who leaves you the statutes
and law of old England, to prate of Rome and Greece--sees the Areopagus
in Westminster-Hall, and takes old Noll for a Roman consul--Adad, he is
like to prove a dictator amongst them instead. Never mind--d--n Bletson
too."

"Friend," said the soldier, "I would willingly be civil, but it consists
not with my duty to hear these godly men, in whose service I am, spoken
of after this irreverent and unbecoming fashion. And albeit I know that
you malignants think you have a right to make free with that damnation,
which you seem to use as your own portion, yet it is superfluous to
invoke it against others, who have better hopes in their thoughts, and
better words in their mouths."

"Thou art but a canting varlet," replied the knight; "and yet thou art
right in some sense--for it is superfluous to curse men who already are
damned as black as the smoke of hell itself."

"I prithee forbear," continued the soldier, "for manners' sake, if not
for conscience--grisly oaths suit ill with grey beards."

"Nay, that is truth, if the devil spoke it," said the knight; "and I
thank Heaven I can follow good counsel, though old Nick gives it. And
so, friend, touching these same Commissioners, bear them this message;
that Sir Henry Lee is keeper of Woodstock Park, with right of waif and
stray, vert and venison, as complete as any of them have to their
estate--that is, if they possess any estate but what they have gained by
plundering honest men. Nevertheless, he will give place to those who
have made their might their right, and will not expose the lives of good
and true men, where the odds are so much against them. And he protests
that he makes this surrender, neither as acknowledging of these so
termed Commissioners, nor as for his own individual part fearing their
force, but purely to avoid the loss of English blood, of which so much
hath been spilt in these late times."

"It is well spoken," said the steward of the Commissioners; "and
therefore, I pray you, let us walk together into the house, that thou
may'st deliver up unto me the vessels, and gold and silver ornaments,
belonging unto the Egyptian Pharaoh, who committed them to thy keeping."

"What vessels?" exclaimed the fiery old knight; "and belonging to whom?
Unbaptized dog, speak civil of the Martyr in my presence, or I will do a
deed misbecoming of me on that caitiff corpse of thine!"--And shaking
his daughter from his right arm, the old man laid his hand on his
rapier.

His antagonist, on the contrary, kept his temper completely, and waving
his hand to add impression to his speech, he said, with a calmness which
aggravated Sir Henry's wrath, "Nay, good friend, I prithee be still, and
brawl not--it becomes not grey hairs and feeble arms to rail and rant
like drunkards. Put me not to use the carnal weapon in mine own defence,
but listen to the voice of reason. See'st thou not that the Lord hath
decided this great controversy in favour of us and ours, against thee
and thine? Wherefore, render up thy stewardship peacefully, and deliver
up to me the chattels of the Man, Charles Stewart."

"Patience is a good nag, but she will bolt," said the knight, unable
longer to rein in his wrath. He plucked his sheathed rapier from his
side, struck the soldier a severe blow with it, and instantly drawing
it, and throwing the scabbard over the trees, placed himself in a
posture of defence, with his sword's point within half a yard of the
steward's body. The latter stepped back with activity, threw his long
cloak from his shoulders, and drawing his long tuck, stood upon his
guard. The swords clashed smartly together, while Alice, in her terror,
screamed wildly for assistance. But the combat was of short duration.
The old cavalier had attacked a man as cunning of fence as he himself,
or a little more so, and possessing all the strength and activity of
which time had deprived Sir Henry, and the calmness which the other had
lost in his passion. They had scarce exchanged three passes ere the
sword of the knight flew up in the air, as if it had gone in search of
the scabbard; and burning with shame and anger, Sir Henry stood
disarmed, at the mercy of his antagonist. The republican showed no
purpose of abusing his victory; nor did he, either during the combat, or
after the victory was won, in any respect alter the sour and grave
composure which reigned upon his countenance--a combat of life and death
seemed to him a thing as familiar, and as little to be feared, as an
ordinary bout with foils.

"Thou art delivered into my hands," he said, "and by the law of arms I
might smite thee under the fifth rib, even as Asahel was struck dead by
Abner, the son of Ner, as he followed the chase on the hill of Ammah,
that lieth before Giah, in the way of the wilderness of Gibeon; but far
be it from me to spill thy remaining drops of blood. True it is, thou
art the captive of my sword and of my spear; nevertheless, seeing that
there may be a turning from thy evil ways, and a returning to those
which are good, if the Lord enlarge thy date for repentance and
amendment, wherefore should it be shortened by a poor sinful mortal, who
is, speaking truly, but thy fellow-worm."

Sir Henry Lee remained still confused, and unable to answer, when there
arrived a fourth person, whom the cries of Alice had summoned to the
spot. This was Joceline Joliffe, one of the under-keepers of the walk,
who, seeing how matters stood, brandished his quarterstaff, a weapon
from which he never parted, and having made it describe the figure of
eight in a flourish through the air, would have brought it down with a
vengeance upon the head of the steward, had not Sir Henry interposed.

"We must trail bats now, Joceline--our time of shouldering them is past.
It skills not striving against the stream--the devil rules the roast,
and makes our slaves our tutors."

At this moment another auxiliary rushed out of the thicket to the
knight's assistance. It was a large wolf-dog, in strength a mastiff, in
form and almost in fleetness a greyhound. Bevis was the noblest of the
kind which ever pulled down a stag, tawny coloured like a lion, with a
black muzzle and black feet, just edged with a line of white round the
toes. He was as tractable as he was strong and bold. Just as he was
about to rush upon the soldier, the words, "Peace, Bevis!" from Sir
Henry, converted the lion into a lamb, and instead of pulling the
soldier down, he walked round and round, and snuffed, as if using all
his sagacity to discover who the stranger could be, towards whom, though
of so questionable an appearance, he was enjoined forbearance.
Apparently he was satisfied, for he laid aside his doubtful and
threatening demonstrations, lowered his ears, smoothed down his
bristles, and wagged his tail.

Sir Henry, who had great respect for the sagacity of his favourite, said
in a low voice to Alice, "Bevis is of thy opinion and counsels
submission. There is the finger of Heaven in this to punish the pride,
ever the fault of our house.--Friend," he continued, addressing the
soldier, "thou hast given the finishing touch to a lesson, which ten
years of constant misfortune have been unable fully to teach me. Thou
hast distinctly shown me the folly of thinking that a good cause can
strengthen a weak arm. God forgive me for the thought, but I could
almost turn infidel, and believe that Heaven's blessing goes ever with
the longest sword; but it will not be always thus. God knows his
time.--Reach me my Toledo, Joceline, yonder it lies; and the scabbard,
see where it hangs on the tree.--Do not pull at my cloak, Alice, and
look so miserably frightened; I shall be in no hurry to betake me to
bright steel again, I promise thee.--For thee, good fellow, I thank
thee, and will make way for thy masters without farther dispute or
ceremony. Joceline Joliffe is nearer thy degree than I am, and will make
surrender to thee of the Lodge and household stuff. Withhold nothing,
Joliffe--let them have all. For me, I will never cross the threshold
again--but where to rest for a night? I would trouble no one in
Woodstock--hum--ay--it shall be so. Alice and I, Joceline, will go down
to thy hut by Rosamond's well; we will borrow the shelter of thy roof
for one night at least; thou wilt give us welcome, wilt thou not?--How
now--a clouded brow?"

Joceline certainly looked embarrassed, directed a first glance to Alice,
then looked to Heaven, then to earth, and last to the four quarters of
the horizon, and then murmured out, "Certainly--without question--might
he but run down to put the house in order."

"Order enough--order enough for those that may soon be glad of clean
straw in a barn," said the knight; "but if thou hast an ill-will to
harbour any obnoxious or malignant persons, as the phrase goes, never
shame to speak it out, man. 'Tis true, I took thee up when thou wert but
a ragged Robin," (as the keeper's followers in the New Forest are called
in popular language,) "made a keeper of thee, and so forth. What of
that? Sailors think no longer of the wind than when it forwards them on
the voyage--thy betters turn with the tide, why should not such a poor
knave as thou?"

"God pardon your honour for your harsh judgment," said Joliffe. "The hut
is yours, such as it is, and should be were it a King's palace, as I
wish it were even for your honour's sake, and Mistress Alice's--only I
could wish your honour would condescend to let me step down before, in
case any neighbour be there--or--or--just to put matters something into
order for Mistress Alice and your honour--just to make things something
seemly and shapely."

"Not a whit necessary," said the knight, while Alice had much trouble in
concealing her agitation. "If thy matters are unseemly, they are fitter
for a defeated knight--if they are unshapely, why, the liker to the rest
of a world, which is all unshaped. Go thou with that man.--What is thy
name, friend?"

"Joseph Tomkins is my name in the flesh," said the steward. "Men call me
Honest Joe, and Trusty Tomkins."

"If thou hast deserved such names, considering what trade thou hast
driven, thou art a jewel indeed," said the knight; "yet if thou hast
not, never blush for the matter, Joseph, for if thou art not in truth
honest, thou hast all the better chance to keep the fame of it--the
title and the thing itself have long walked separate ways. Farewell to
thee,--and farewell to fair Woodstock!"

So saying, the old knight turned round, and pulling his daughter's arm
through his own, they walked onward into the forest, in the same manner
in which they were introduced to the reader.

* * * * *

CHAPTER THE THIRD.


Now, ye wild blades, that make loose inns your stage,
To vapour forth the acts of this sad age,
Stout Edgehill fight, the Newberries and the West,
And northern clashes, where you still fought best;
Your strange escapes, your dangers void of fear,
When bullets flew between the head and ear,
Whether you fought by Damme or the Spirit,
Of you I speak.

LEGEND OF CAPTAIN JONES.

Joseph Tomkins and Joliffe the keeper remained for some time in silence,
as they stood together looking along the path in which the figures of
the Knight of Ditchley and pretty Mistress Alice had disappeared behind
the trees. They then gazed on each other in doubt, as men who scarce
knew whether they stood on hostile or on friendly terms together, and
were at a loss how to open a conversation. They heard the knight's
whistle summon Bevis; but though the good hound turned his head and
pricked his ears at the sound, yet he did not obey the call, but
continued to snuff around Joseph Tomkins's cloak.

"Thou art a rare one, I fear me," said the keeper, looking to his new
acquaintance. "I have heard of men who have charms to steal both dogs
and deer."

"Trouble not thyself about my qualities, friend," said Joseph Tomkins,
"but bethink thee of doing thy master's bidding."

Joceline did not immediately answer, but at length, as if in sign of
truce, stuck the end of his quarterstaff upright in the ground, and
leant upon it as he said gruffly,--"So, my tough old knight and you were
at drawn bilbo, by way of afternoon service, sir preacher--Well for you
I came not up till the blades were done jingling, or I had rung
even-song upon your pate."

The Independent smiled grimly as he replied, "Nay, friend, it is well
for thyself, for never should sexton have been better paid for the knell
he tolled. Nevertheless, why should there be war betwixt us, or my hand
be against thine? Thou art but a poor knave, doing thy master's order,
nor have I any desire that my own blood or thine should be shed touching
this matter.--Thou art, I understand, to give me peaceful possession of
the Palace of Woodstock, so called--though there is now no palace in
England, no, nor shall be in the days that come after, until we shall
enter the palace of the New Jerusalem, and the reign of the Saints shall
commence on earth."

"Pretty well begun already, friend Tomkins," said the keeper; "you are
little short of being kings already upon the matter as it now stands;
and for your Jerusalem I wot not, but Woodstock is a pretty nest-egg to
begin with.--Well, will you shog--will you on--will you take sasine and
livery?--You heard my orders."

"Umph--I know not," said Tomkins. "I must beware of ambuscades, and I am
alone here. Moreover, it is the High Thanksgiving appointed by
Parliament, and owned to by the army--also the old man and the young
woman may want to recover some of their clothes and personal property,
and I would not that they were baulked on my account. Wherefore, if thou
wilt deliver me possession to-morrow morning, it shall be done in
personal presence of my own followers, and of the Presbyterian man the
Mayor, so that the transfer may be made before witnesses; whereas, were
there none with us but thou to deliver, and I to take possession, the
men of Belial might say, Go to, Trusty Tomkins hath been an Edomite--
Honest Joe hath been as an Ishmaelite, rising up early and dividing the
spoil with them that served the Man--yea, they that wore beards and
green Jerkins, as in remembrance of the Man and of his government."

Joceline fixed his keen dark eyes upon the soldier as he spoke, as if in
design to discover whether there was fair play in his mind or not. He
then applied his five fingers to scratch a large shock head of hair, as
if that operation was necessary to enable him to come to a conclusion.
"This is all fair sounding, brother," said he; "but I tell you plainly
there are some silver mugs, and platters, and flagons, and so forth, in
yonder house, which have survived the general sweep that sent all our
plate to the smelting-pot, to put our knight's troop on horseback. Now,
if thou takest not these off my hand, I may come to trouble, since it
may be thought I have minished their numbers.--Whereas, I being as
honest a fellow"--

"As ever stole venison," said Tomkins--"nay, I do owe thee an
interruption."

"Go to, then," replied the keeper; "if a stag may have come to mischance
in my walk, it was no way in the course of dishonesty, but merely to
keep my old dame's pan from rusting; but for silver porringers,
tankards, and such like, I would as soon have drunk the melted silver,
as stolen the vessel made out of it. So that I would not wish blame or
suspicion fell on me in this matter. And, therefore, if you will have
the things rendered even now,--why so--and if not, hold me blameless."

"Ay, truly," said Tomkins; "and who is to hold me blameless, if they
should see cause to think any thing minished? Not the right worshipful
Commissioners, to whom the property of the estate is as their own;
therefore, as thou say'st, we must walk warily in the matter. To lock up
the house and leave it, were but the work of simple ones. What say'st
thou to spend the night there, and then nothing can be touched without
the knowledge of us both?"

"Why, concerning that," answered the keeper, "I should be at my hut to
make matters somewhat conformable for the old knight and Mistress Alice,
for my old dame Joan is something dunny, and will scarce know how to
manage--and yet,--to speak the truth, by the mass I would rather not see
Sir Henry to-night, since what has happened to-day hath roused his
spleen, and it is a peradventure he may have met something at the hut
which will scarce tend to cool it."

"It is a pity," said Tomkins, "that being a gentleman of such grave and
goodly presence, he should be such a malignant cavalier, and that he
should, like the rest of that generation of vipers, have clothed himself
with curses as with a garment."

"Which is as much as to say, the tough old knight hath a habit of
swearing," said the keeper, grinning at a pun, which has been repeated
since his time; "but who can help it? it comes of use and wont. Were you
now, in your bodily self, to light suddenly on a Maypole, with all the
blithe morris-dancers prancing around it to the merry pipe and tabor,
with bells jingling, ribands fluttering, lads frisking and laughing,
lasses leaping till you might see where the scarlet garter fastened the
light blue hose, I think some feeling, resembling either natural
sociality, or old use and wont, would get the better, friend, even of
thy gravity, and thou wouldst fling thy cuckoldy steeple-hat one way,
and that blood-thirsty long sword another, and trip, like the noodles of
Hogs-Norton, when the pigs play on the organ."

The Independent turned fiercely round on the keeper, and replied, "How
now, Mr. Green Jerkin? what language is this to one whose hand is at the
plough? I advise thee to put curb on thy tongue, lest thy ribs pay the
forfeit."

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