UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 II UNOIS UBRARt 
 AT URBAN A-CHA^APA^QN 
 
 '^ BOOKSTACKS
 
 WOODSTOCK; "^/^^ 
 
 OR ^ / 
 
 THE CAVALIER. 
 
 A TALE OF THE YEAR 
 
 SIXTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY-ONE. 
 
 COMPLETE IN TWO VOLU3IES. 
 
 " He was a perfect gentle Knight." 
 
 ChoMcer. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " WAVERLEY," &c. &€. 
 
 -IToL K, 
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 37. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 SAMUEL H. PARKER, NO. 164, WASHINGTON-STREET 
 
 1828.
 
 
 Wav«1ey Press—Boston.
 
 g^3 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It is not my purpose to inform my readers how the 
 manuscripts of that eminent antiquary, the Rev. J. A. 
 RocHECLiFFE, D. D., Came into my possession. There 
 are many ways in which such things happen, and it is 
 enough to say they were rescued from an unworthy fate, 
 and that they were honestly come by. As for the authen- 
 ticity of the anecdotes which I have gleaned from the 
 writings of this excellent person, and put together with 
 my own unrivalled facility, the name of Doctor Roche- 
 clifFe will warrant accuracy, wherever that name happens 
 to be known. 
 
 With his history the reading part of the world are 
 well acquainted ; and we might refer the tyro to honest 
 Anthony a Wood, who looked up to him as one of the 
 pillars of High Church, and bestows on him an exemplary 
 character in the Athena Oxonie7ises, Miouzh the Doctor 
 was educated at Cambridge, England's other eye. 
 
 It is well known that Doctor Rochecliife early obtain- 
 ed preferment in the Church, on account of the spirited 
 share which he took in the controversy with the Puritans ; 
 and that his work, entitled Malleus Hceresis, was consid- 
 ered as a knock-down blow by all, except those who re- 
 ceived it. It was that work which made him, at the 
 early age of thirty, Rector of Woodstock, and which af- 
 terwards secured him a place in the Catalogue of the 
 celebrated Century White ; — and, worse than being 
 shown up by that fanatic, among the catalogues of scan- 
 dalous and malignant priests admitted into benefices by 
 the prelates, his opinions occasioned the loss of his living 
 of Woodstock by the ascendency of Presbytery. He 
 was chaplain, during most part of the Civil War, to Sir 
 Henry Lee's regiment, levied for the service of King 
 Charles ; and it was said he engaged more than once 
 personally in the field. At least it is certain that Doctor 
 RocheclifFe was repeatedly in great danger, as will ap-
 
 IV" PREFACE. 
 
 pear from more passages than one in the following history, 
 which speaks of his own exploits, like Cffisar, in the third 
 person. I suspect,, however, some Presbyterian com- 
 mentator has been guilty of interpolating two or three 
 passages. The manuscript was long in possession of the 
 Everards, a distinguished family of that persuasion. 
 
 During the Usurpation, Doctor RocheclifFe was con- 
 stantly engaged in one or other of the premature attempts 
 at a restoration of monarchy ; and was accounted, for his 
 audacity, presence of mind, and depth of judgment, one 
 of the greatest undertakers for the King in that busy 
 time ; with this trifling.drawback, that the plots in which - 
 he busied himself were almost constantly detected. Nay, 
 it was suspected that Cromwell himself sometimes con- 
 trived to suggest to him the intrigues in which he en- 
 gaged, by which means the wily Protector made experi- 
 ments on the fidelity of doubtful friends, and became well 
 acquainted with the plots of declared enemies, which he 
 thought it more easy to disconcert and disappoint than to 
 punish severely. 
 
 Upon the Restoration, Doctor RocheclifFe regained his 
 living of Woodstock, with other church preferment, and 
 gave up polemics and political intrigues for philosophy. 
 He was one of the consutuent members of the Royal 
 Society, and was the person through whom Charles re- 
 quired of that learned body solution of their curious 
 problem, " Why, if a vessel is filled brimful of water, 
 and a large fish plunged into the water, nevertheless it 
 shall not overflow the pitcher .f*" Doctor Rocheclitfe's 
 exposition of this phenomenon was the most ingenious 
 and instructive of four that were given in ; and it is cer- 
 tain the Doctor must have gained the honour of the day, 
 but for the obstinacy of a plain, dull, country gentleman, 
 who insisted that the' experiment should be, in the first 
 place, publicly tried. When this was done, the event 
 showed it would have been rather rash to have adopted 
 the facts exclusively on the royal authority ; as the fish, 
 however curiously inserted into his native element, splash- 
 ed the water over the hall, and destroyed the credit of
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 four Ingenious essayists, besides a large Turkey car- 
 pet. 
 
 Doctor Rochecliffe, it would seem, died about 1685, 
 leaving many papers behind him of various kinds, and, 
 above all, many valuable anecdotes of secret history, from 
 which the following ^lemoirs have been extracted, on which 
 vve intend to say only a few words by way of illustration. 
 
 The existence of Rosamond's Labyrinth, mentioned 
 in these pages, is attested by Drayton in the reign of 
 Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 " Rosamond's Labyrinth, whose ruins, together with 
 her Well, being paved with square stones in the bottom, 
 and also her Tower, from which the Labyrinth did run, 
 are yet remaining, being vaults arched and walled with 
 stone and brick, almost inextricably wound within one 
 another, by which, if at any time her lodging were laid 
 about by the Queen, she might easily avoid peril immi- 
 nent, and, if need be, by secret issues take the air abroad, 
 many furlongs about Woodstock, in Oxfordshire."* 
 
 It is highly probable, that a singular piece of phantas- 
 magoria, which was certainly played ofi upon the Com- 
 missioners of the Long Parliament, who were sent down 
 to dispark and destroy Woodstock, after the death of 
 Charles L, was conducted by means of the secret pas- 
 sages and recesses in the ancient Labyrinth of Rosa- 
 mond, around which successive Monarchs had erected a 
 Hunting-seat or Lodge. 
 
 There is a curious account of the disturbance given 
 to those Honourable Commissioners, inserted by Doctor 
 Plot, in his Natural History of Oxfordshire. But as I 
 have not the book at hand, I can only allude to the work 
 of the celebrated Glanville upon Witches, who has ex- 
 tracted it as an highly accredited narrative of supernat- 
 ural dealings. The beds of the Commissioners, and 
 their servants, were hoisted up till they were almost in- 
 verted, and then let down again so suddenly, as to menace 
 them with broken bones. Unusual and horrible noises 
 
 * Drayton's England's Heroical EpisUes, Note A. on the Epistle/ Rosamond 
 to King Henry.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 disturbed those sacrilegious intromltters with royal pro- 
 perty. The devil, on one occasion, brought theni a 
 warming-pan ; on another, pelted them with stones and 
 horses' bones. Tubs of water were emptied on them 
 in their sleep ; and so many other pranks of the same na- 
 ture played at their expense, that they broke up house- 
 keeping, and left their intended spoliation only half com- 
 pleted. The good sense of Doctor Plot suspected, that 
 these feats were wrought by conspiracy and confedera- 
 tion, which Glanville of course endeavours to refute with 
 all his might ; for it could scarce be expected, that he 
 who believed in so convenient a solution as that of super- 
 natural agency, would consent to relinquish the service of 
 a key, which will answer any lock, however intricate. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was afterwards discovered, that Doctor 
 Plot was perfectly right ; and that the only demon who 
 wrought all these marvels, was a disguised royalist — a 
 fellow called Trusty Joe, or some such name, formerly 
 in the service of the Keeper of the Park, but who engag- 
 ed in that of the Coamiissioners, on purpose to subject 
 them to his persecution. I think I have seen some ac- 
 count of the real state of the transaction, and of the 
 machinery by which the wizard worked his wonders ; but 
 whether in a book, or a pamphlet, I am uncertain. I 
 remember one passage particularly to this purpose. The 
 Commissioners having agreed to retain some articles out 
 of the public account, in order to be divided among them- 
 selves, had entered into an indenture for ascertaining 
 their share in the peculation, which they hid in a bow- 
 pot for security. Now, when an assembly of divines, 
 aided by the most strict religious characters in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Woodstock, were assembled to conjure 
 down the supposed demon. Trusty Joe had contrived a 
 fire-work, which he let oft' in the midst of the exorcism, 
 and which destroyed the bow-pot ; and, to the shame 
 and confusion of the Commissioners, threw their secret 
 indenture into the midst of the assembled ghost-seers, 
 wlio became thus acquainted with their schemes of pe- 
 culation.
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 It is, however, to little purpose for me to strain my 
 memory about ancient and imperfect recollections con- 
 cerning the particulars of these fantastic disturbances at 
 Woodstock, since Doctor RocheclifFe's papers give such 
 a much more accurate narrative than could be obtained 
 from any account in existence before their publication. 
 Indeed, I might have gone much more fully into this 
 part of my subject, for the materials are ample ; — but, 
 to tell the reader a secret, some friendly critics were of 
 opinion they made the story hang on hand ; and thus I 
 was prevailed on to be more concise on the subject than 
 I might otherwise have been. 
 
 The impatient reader, perhaps, is by this time accusing 
 me of keeping the sun from him with a candle. Were 
 the sunshine as bright, however, as it is likely to prove ; 
 and the flambeau, or link, a dozen of times as smoky, 
 my friend must remain in the inferior atmosphere a min- 
 ute longer, while I disclaim the idea of poaching on 
 another's manor. Hawks, we say, in Scotland, ought 
 not to pick out hawks' eyes, or tire upon each other's 
 quarry ; and, therefore, if I had known that, in its date 
 and its characters, this tale was like to interfere with that 
 recently published by a distinguished contemporary, I 
 should unquestionably have left Doctor Rochecliife's 
 manuscript in peace for the present season. But before I 
 was aware of this circumstance, this little book was half 
 through the press ; and I had only the alternative of 
 avoiding any intentional imitation, by delaying a perusal 
 of the contemporary work in question. Some accidental 
 collision there must be, when works of a similar charac- 
 ter are finished on the same general system of historica. 
 manners, and the same historical personages are intro- 
 duced. Of course, if such have occurred, I shall be 
 probably the sufferer. But my intentions have been at 
 least innocent, since I look on it as one of the advantages 
 attending the conclusion of Woodstock, that the finish- 
 ing of my own task will permit me to have the pleasure 
 of reading Brambletye-House, from which I have 
 liitherto conscientiously abstained.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Some were for j^ospel ministers, 
 ~ And some for red-coat seculars, 
 
 As men most fit t' hold forth the word, 
 And wield the one and th' other sword. 
 
 Butler's Hudibras. 
 
 Theiie is a handsome parish church in the town of 
 Woodstock, — 1 am told so at least, for I never saw it, 
 having scarce lime, when at the place, to view the mag- 
 nificence of Blenheim, its painted halls, and tapestried 
 bowers, and then retm-n in due season to dine in hall with 
 
 my learned friend, the provost of : being one of 
 
 those occasions on which a man wrongs himself extreme- 
 ly, if he lets his curiosity interfere with his punctuality. 
 J had the church accurately described to me, with a view- 
 to this work ; but, as I have some reason to doubi v» heth- 
 er my informant had ever seen the inside of it himself, 
 I will be content to say that it is now a handsome edifice, 
 most part of which was rebuilt forty or fifty years since, 
 although it still contains some arches of the old chantry, 
 founded, it is said, by King John. But it is to this more 
 ancient part of the building that my story refers. 
 
 Upon a morning in the end of September, or begin- 
 ning of October, in the year 1652, being a day appoint- 
 ed for a solemn thanksgiving for the decisive victory tt 
 \** orcesler, a respectable audieiu^e was assembled in the 
 old chantry, or chapel of King John. The condition of
 
 4 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 the church and character of the audience both bore 
 witness to the rage of civil war, and the pecuhar spirit 
 of the times. The sacred edifice showed many marks 
 of dilapidation. The windows, once filled with stained 
 glass, had been dashed to pieces with pikes and muskets, 
 as matters of and pertaining to idolatry. The carving 
 on the reading-desk was damaged, and two fair screens 
 of beautiful sculptured oak had been destroyed, for the 
 same pithy and conclusive reason. The high altar had 
 been removed, and the gilded railing, which was once 
 around it, was broken down and carried off. The effigies 
 of several tombs were mutilated, and now lay scattered 
 about the church. 
 
 Torn from their destined niche, unworthy meed 
 Of knightly counsel, or heroic deed. 
 
 The autumn w^ind piped through empty aisles, in which 
 the remains of stakes and trevisses of rough-hewn tim- 
 ber, as well as a quantity of scattered hay and trampled 
 straw, seemed to intimate that the hallowed precincts had 
 been, upon some late emergency, made the quarters of 
 a troop of horse. 
 
 The audience, like the building, was abated in splen- 
 dour. None of the ancient and habitual worshippers 
 during peaceful times, were now to be seen in their carv- 
 ed galleries, with hands shadowing their brows, while com- 
 posing their minds to pray where their fathers had prayed, 
 and after the same mode of worship. The eye of the 
 yeoman and peasant sought in vain the tall form of old 
 Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley, as, wrapped in his laced 
 cloak, and w^ith beard and whiskers duly composed, he 
 moved slowly through the aisles, followed by the faithful 
 mastiff, or blood-bound, which in old time had saved his 
 master by his fidelity, and which regularly followed him 
 to church. Bevis, indeed, fell under the proverb which 
 avers, " He is a good dog which goes to church ;" for, 
 bating an occasional temptation to warble along with the 
 accord, he behaved himself as decorously as any of the 
 congregation, and returned as much edified, perhaps, a§
 
 WOODSTOCK. O 
 
 some of them. The damsels of Woodstock looked as 
 vainly for the laced cloaks, jingling spurs, slashed boots, 
 and tall plumes, of the young cavaliers of this and other 
 high-born houses, moving through the streets and the 
 church-yard with the careless ease, which indicates per- 
 haps rather an overweening degree of self-confidence, 
 yet shows graceful when mingled with good-humour and 
 courtesy. The good old dames, too, in their white hoods 
 and black velvet gowns — their daughters, " the cynosure 
 of neighbouring eyes," — where were they all now, who, 
 when they entered the church, used to divide men's 
 thoughts between them and Heaven ? " But, ah ! Alice 
 Lee — so sweet, so gentle, so condescending in thy love- 
 liness — (thus proceeds a contemporary annalist, whose 
 manuscript w^e have deciphered) — why is my story to turn 
 upon thy fallen fortunes ? and why not rather to the pe- 
 riod when, in the very dismounting froui your palfrey, 
 you attracted as many eyes as if an a-igel had descend- 
 ed, — as many blessings as if the benignant being had 
 come fraught with good tidings ? No creature wert thou 
 of an idle romancer's imagination — no being fantastically 
 bedizened with inconsistent perfections ; — thy merits 
 made me love thee well — and for ihy faults — I think they 
 made me love thee better." 
 
 With the house of Lee had disappeared from, the chan- 
 try of King John others of gentle blood and honoured 
 lineage, — Freemantles, Winkleccmbes, Drycotts, Sic. ; 
 for the air thai blew over the towers of Oxford was 
 unfavourable to the growth of Puritanism, which was 
 more general in the neighbouring counties. There were 
 among the congregation, however, one or two that, by 
 their habits and demeanour, seemed country gentlemen 
 of consideration, and there were also present some of the 
 notables of the town of Woodstock, cutlers or glovers 
 chiefly, whose skill in steel or leather had raised them to 
 a comfortable livelihood. These dignitaries wore long 
 black cloaks, plaited close at the neck, and, like peaceful 
 citizens, carried their Bibles and memorandum-books at 
 
 ]* VOL. I.
 
 O WOODSTOCK. 
 
 their girdles, instead of knife or sword. This respecta- 
 ble, but least numerous part of the audience, were such 
 decent persons as had adopted the Presbyterian form of 
 faith, renouncing the liturgy and hierarchy of the Church 
 of England, and hving under the tuition of the Rev 
 Nehemiah Holdenough, much famed for the length and 
 strength of his powers of predication. With these grave 
 seniors sat their goodly dames in ruff and gorget, like 
 the portraits v/hich in catalogues of paintings are design- 
 ed " wife of a burgo-master ;" and their pretty daugh- 
 ters, whose study, like that of Chaucer's physician, was 
 not always in the Bible, but who were, on the contrary, 
 when a glance could escape the vigilance of their honour- 
 ed mothers, inattentive themselves, and the cause of in- 
 attention in others. 
 
 But, besides these dignified persons, there were in the 
 church a numerous collection of the lower orders, some 
 brought thither by curiosity, but many of them unwashed 
 artificers, bewildered in the theological discussions of the 
 time, and of as many various sects as there are colours in 
 the rainbow. The presumption of these learned The- 
 bans being in exact proportion to their ignorance, the 
 last was total, and the first boundless. Their behaviour 
 in the church was any thing but reverential or edifying. 
 Most of them affected a cynical contempt for all that was 
 only held sacred by human sanction — the church was to 
 these men but a steeple-house, the clergyman, an ordi- 
 nary person ; her ordinances, dry bran and sapless pot- 
 tage, unfitted for the spiritualized palates of the saints, 
 and the prayer, an address to Heaven, to which each ac- 
 ceded or not, as in his too critical judgment he conceiv- 
 ed fit. 
 
 The elder amongst them sat or lay on the benches, with 
 their high steeple-crowned hats pulled over their severe 
 and knitted brows, waiting for the Presbyterian parson, 
 as mastiffs sit in dumb expectation of the bull that is to 
 be brought to the stake. The younger mixed, some of 
 them, a bolder license of manners with their heresies ; 
 they gazed round on the women, yawned, coughed, and
 
 WOODSTOCK. I 
 
 whispered, eat apples, and cracked nuts, as if in the gal- 
 lery of a theatre ere the piece commences. 
 
 Besides all these, the congregation contained a few 
 soldiers, some in corslets and steel caps, some in buff, 
 and others in red coats. These men of war had their 
 bandeliers, with ammunition, slung round them, and rested 
 on their pikes and muskets. They, too, had their pecu- 
 liar doctrines on the most difficult points of religion, and 
 united the extravagances of enthusiasm with the most de- 
 termined courage 'and resolution in the field. The burgh- 
 ers of Woodstock looked on these military saints with 
 no small degree of awe ; for though not often sulKed 
 with deeds of plunder or cruelty, they had the power of 
 both absolutely in their hands, and the peaceful citizens 
 had no ahernative, save submission to whatever the ill- 
 regulated and enthusiastic imaginations of their martial 
 guides might suggest. 
 
 After some time spent in waiting for him, Mr. Hold- 
 enough began to walk up the aisles of the chapel, not with 
 the slow and dignified carriage with which the old Rector 
 was of yore wont to maintain the dignity of the surplicBj 
 but with a hasty step, like one who arrives too late at an 
 appointment, and bustles forward to make the best use of 
 his time. He was a tall thin man, with an adust com- 
 plexion, and the vivacity of his eye indicated some irasci-- 
 bility of temperament. His dr^ss was brow^n, not black, 
 and over his other vestments he wor€,in honour of Calvin, 
 a Geneva cloak of a blue colon**, which fell backward 
 from his shoulders as he posted on to the pulpit. His 
 grizzled hair was cut as short as shears could perform the 
 feat, and covered with a black siik skull-cap, which stuck 
 so close to his head, that the tv.'o ears expanded from 
 under it as if they had been intended as handles by which 
 to lift the whole person. Lloreover the w^orthy divine 
 wore spectacles, and a long grizzled peaked beard, and 
 he carried in his hand a small pocket-bible with silver 
 clasps. Upon arriving at the pulpit, he paused a moment 
 to take breath, then began to ascend the steps by two at 
 a time.
 
 8 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 But his course was arrested by a strong hand, which 
 seized his cloak. It was that of one who had detached 
 himself from the group of soldiery. He was a stout man 
 of middle stature, with a quick eye, and a countenance 
 which, though plain, had yet an expression that fixed the 
 attention. His dress, though not strictly military, partook 
 of that character. He wore large hose made of calves- 
 leather, and a tuck, as it was then called, or rapier, of 
 tremendous length, balanced on the other side by a dag- 
 ger. The belt was morocco, garnished with pistols. 
 
 The minister, thus intercepted in his duty, faced round 
 upon the party who had seized him, and demanded in no 
 gentle tone the meaning of the interruption. 
 
 " Friend," quoth the intruder, " is it thy purpose to 
 hold forth to these good people ?" 
 
 " Ay, marry is it," said the clergyman, " and such 
 is my bounden duty. "Voe to me if 1 preach not the gos- 
 pel — Prithee, friend, lot me not in my labour." 
 
 " Nay," said the man of warlike mien, " I am myself 
 minded to hold forth ; therefore, do thou desist, or if 
 thou wilt do by mine advice, remain and fructify with 
 those poor goslings, to whom I am presently about to shake 
 forth the crumbs of comfort ablo' doctrine." 
 
 " Give place, thou man of Satan," said the priest, 
 waxing wroth, " respect mine order — my cloth." 
 
 " I see no more to respect in the cut of thy cloak, or 
 in the cloth of which it is fashioned," said the other, 
 " than thou didst in the Tishop's rocket — they were 
 black and white, thou art blue and brown. Sleeping 
 dogs every one of you, lying down, loving to slumber — 
 shepherds that starve the Hock, but will not watch it, each 
 looking to his own gain — hum." 
 
 Scenes of this indecent kind were so common at the 
 time, that no one thought of interfering ; the congrega- 
 tion looked on in silence, ih'3 better class scandalized, 
 and the lower orders, some 'aligning, and others bucking 
 the soldier or minister as their fancy dictated. Meantime 
 the struggle waxed fiercer ; Mr. Holdenough clamoured 
 for assistance.
 
 WOODSTOCK. y 
 
 " Mr. Mayor of Woodstock," he exclaimed, " wilt 
 thou be among those wicked magistrates who bear the 
 sword in vain? — Citizens, will you not help your pastor? 
 — Worthy Aldermen, will you see me strangled on the 
 pulpit stairs by this man of buff and Belial ? — But lo, I 
 will overcome him, and cast his cords from me." 
 
 As Holdenough spoke, he struggled to ascend the pulpit 
 stairs, holding hard on the bannisters. His tormentor 
 hdd fast by the skirts of the cloak, which went nigh to 
 the choking of the wearer, until, as he spoke the words 
 last mentioned, in a half-strangled voice, Mr. Holdenough 
 dexterously slipped the string which tied it round his 
 neck, so that the garment suddenly gave Way ; the soldier 
 fell backwards down the steps, and the liberated divine 
 skipped into his pulpit, and began to give forth a psalm 
 of triumph over his prostrate adversary. But a great 
 hubbub in the church marred his triumph, and although 
 he and his faithful clerk continued to sing the hymn of 
 victory, their notes were only heard by fits, like the 
 whistle of a curlew during a gale of wind. 
 
 The cause of the tumult w^as as follows : — The IMayor 
 was a zealous Presbyterian, and witnessed the intrusion 
 of the soldier witli great indignation from the very begin- 
 ning, though he hesitated to interfere with an armed man 
 while on his legs and capable of resistance. But no 
 sooner did he behold the champion of independency 
 sprawling on his back, with the divine's Geneva cloak 
 fluttering in his hands, than the magistrate rushed forward, 
 exclaiming that such insolence was not lo be endured, 
 and ordered his constables to seize the prostrate cham- 
 pion, proclaiming, in the magnanimity of wrath, "I will 
 commit every red-coat of them all — I will commit him 
 were he Noll Cromwell himself." 
 
 The worthy IMayor's indignation had overmastered his 
 reason when he made this mistimed vaunt ; for three 
 soldiers, who had hitherto stood motionless like statues, 
 made each a stride in advance, which placed them be- 
 twixt the municipal officers and the soldier who was in 
 the act of arising ; then making at once the movement
 
 10 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 of resting arms according to the manual as then practised, 
 their musket-butts rang on the church pavement, within 
 an inch of the gouty toes of Master Mayor. The ener- 
 getic magistrate, whose efforts in favour of order were 
 thus checked, cast one glance on his supporters, but that 
 was enough to show him that force was not on his side. 
 All had shrunk back on hearing that ominous clatter of 
 stone and iron. He was obliged to descend to expostu- 
 lation. 
 
 " What do you mean, my masters ?" said he ; " is it 
 like a decent and God-fearing soldiery, who have wrought 
 such things for the land as have never before been heard 
 of, to brawl and riot in the church, or to aid, abet, and 
 comfort a profane fellow, who hath, upon a solemn thanks- 
 giving, excluded the minister from his own pulpit ?" 
 
 " We have nought to do with thy church, as thou 
 call'st it," said he who by a small feather in front of his 
 morion appeared to be the corporal of the party ; " w^e 
 see not why men of gifts should not be heard within 
 these citadels of superstition, as well as the voice of the 
 men of crape of old, and the men of cloak now. Where- 
 fore we will pluck yon Jack Presbyter out of his wooden 
 sentinel-box, and our own watchman shall relieve the 
 guard, and mount thereon and cry aloud and spare not."' 
 
 " Nay, gentlemen," said the Mayor, " if such be your 
 purpose, we have not the means to withstand you, being, 
 as you see, peaceful and quiet men — But let me first 
 speak with this worthy minister, Nehemiah Holdenough, 
 to persuade him to yield up his place for the time with- 
 out farther scandal." 
 
 The peace-making Mayor then interrupted the quav- 
 ering of Holdenough and the clerk, and prayed both to 
 retire, else there would, he said, be certainly strife. 
 
 " Strife ?" replied the Presbyterian divine, with scorn ; 
 " no fear of strife, among men that dare not testify against 
 this open profanation of the church, and daring display of 
 heresy. Would your neighbours of Banbury have brook- 
 ed such an insult f"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 11 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Holdenough," said the Mayor, 
 " put us not to mutiny and cry Clubs. I tell you once 
 more, we are not men of war or blood." 
 
 " Not more than may be drawn by the point of a 
 needle," said the preacher, scornfully. — " Ye tailors of 
 Woodstock, — for what is a glover but a tailor working on 
 kidskin ? — I forsake you, in scorn of your faint hearts and 
 feeble hands, and will seek me elsewhere a flock which 
 will not fly from their shepherd at the braying of the first 
 wild ass which comeih from out the great desert." 
 
 So saying, the aggrieved divine departed from his pul- 
 pit, and shaking the dust from his shoes, left the church 
 as hastily as he had entered it, though for a difierent 
 reason. The citizens saw his retreat with sorrow, and 
 not without a compunctious feeling as if they were not' 
 playing the most courageous part in the wofld. The 
 Mayor himself and several others left the church, to fol- 
 low and appease him. 
 
 The Independent orator, late prostrate, was now^ trium- 
 phant, and inducting himself into the pulpit without far- 
 ther ceremony, he pulled a Bible from his pocket, and 
 selected his text from the forty-fifth psalm, — " Gird thy 
 sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty, with thy glory and 
 thy majesty : and in thy majesty ride prosperously." — 
 Upon this theme he commenced one of those wild de- 
 clamations common at the period, in which men were 
 accustomed to wrest and pervert the language of scrip- 
 ture, by adapting it to modern events. The language 
 which, in its literal sense, was applied to King David, and 
 typically referred to the coming of the Messiah, was, in 
 the opinion of the military orator, most properly to be 
 interpreted of Oliver Cromwell, the victorious general of 
 the infant Commonwealth, which was never destined to 
 come of age. " Gird on thy sword !" exclaimed the 
 preacher emphatically ; " and was not that a pretty bit 
 of steel as ever dangled from a corslet, or rung against a 
 steel saddle f Ay, ye prick up your ears now, ye cutlers 
 of Woodstock, as if ye should know something of a good 
 fox broad-sword — Did you forge it, I trow ^ — was the
 
 12 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Steel quenched with water from Rosamond's well, or the 
 blade blessed by the old cuckoldly-priest of Godsiow ? 
 You would have us think, I warrant me, that you wrought 
 it and welded it, grinded and polished it, and all the while 
 it never came on a Woodstock stithy. You were all 
 too busy making whittles for the lazy crape-men of Ox- 
 ford, bouncing priests, whose eyes were so closed up with 
 fat. that they could not see Destruction till she had them 
 by the throat. But I can tell you where the sword was 
 forged, and tempered, and welded, and grinded, and pol- 
 ished. When you were, as 1 said before, making whittles 
 for false priests, and daggers for dissolute G — d d — n-me 
 cavahers, to cut the people of England's throat with — it 
 was forged at Long Marston Moor, where blows w^ent 
 faster than ever rung hammer on anvil — an it was tem- 
 pered at Naseby, in the best blood of the cavahers — and 
 it was welded in Ireland against the walls of Drogheda 
 — and it was grinded on Scottish hves at Dunbar — and 
 now of late it w^as polished in Worcester, till it shines as 
 bright as the sun in the middle heaven, and there is no 
 light in England that shall come nigh unto it." 
 
 Here the military part of the congregation raised a 
 hum of approbation, which being a sound like the " hear, 
 hear," of the British House of Commons, was calculated 
 to heighten the enthusiasm of the orator, by intimating 
 the sympathy of the audience. " And then," resumed 
 the preacher, rising in energy as he found that his audi- 
 ence partook in these feelings, " what sayeth the text ^ — 
 Ride on prosperously — do not stop — do not call a halt — 
 do not quit the saddle — pursue the scattered fliers — 
 sound the trumpet — not a levant or a flourish, but a point 
 of war — sound, boot and saddle — to horse and away — a 
 charge ! — follow after the young man ! — what part have 
 we in him ! — Slay, take, destroy, divide the spoil ! Bles- 
 sed art thou, Oliver, on account of thine honour — thy 
 cause is clear, thy call is undoubted — never has defeat 
 come near thy leading stafl^, nor disaster attended thy 
 banner. Ride on, flower of England's soldiers ! ride on, 
 chosen leader of God's champions ! gird up the loins of
 
 WOODSTOCK. 13 
 
 thy resolution, and be steadfast to the mark of thy high 
 calhng !" 
 
 Another deep and stern hum, echoed by the ancient 
 embow'd arches of the old cliantry, gave him an opportu- 
 nity of an instant's repose ; when the people of Wood- 
 stock heard him, and not without anxiety, turn the stream 
 of his oratory into anotlier channel. 
 
 " But wherefore, ye people of Woodstock, do I say 
 these things to you, who ciuim no portion in our David, 
 no interest in England's son of Jesse ! — You, who were 
 fighting as well as your might could (and it was not very 
 formidable) for the late Man, under that old blood-thirsty 
 papist Sir Jacob Aston — are you not now plotting, or 
 ready to plot, for restoring, as ye call it, of the young 
 Man, the unclean son of the slaughtered tyrant — the fu- 
 gitive after whom the true hearts of England are now 
 following, that tliey may take and slay him f — ' Why 
 should your rider turn his bridle our way f say you in 
 your hearts ; ' we will none of him ; if we may help 
 ourselves, we will rather turn us to wallow in the mire of 
 monarchy, with the sow that was washed but newly.' 
 Come, men of Woodstock, 1 will ask, and do you answer 
 me. Hunger ye still after the flesh-pots of the monks 
 of Godstow f and ye will say, Nay ; — but wherefore, 
 except that the pots are cracked and broken, and the fire 
 is extinguished wherewith thy oven used to boil ? And 
 again, I ask, drink ye still of the well of the fornications 
 of the fair Rosamond ? — ye will say ]\av ; — but where- 
 fore .?" 
 
 Here the orator, ere he could answer the question in 
 his own way, w'as surprised by the following reply, very 
 pithily pronounced by one of the congregation : — " Be- 
 cause you, and the hke of you, have left us no brandy 
 to mix with it." 
 
 All eyes turned to the audacious speaker, who stood 
 beside one of the thick sturdy Saxon pillars, which he 
 himself somewhat resembled, being short of'stature, but 
 Tery strongly made, a squat broad Liitle-John sort of 
 
 2 VOL. I.
 
 14 >VOOD STOCK. 
 
 figure, leaning on a quarter -staff, and wearing a jerkin, 
 which, though now sorely stained and discoloured, had 
 once been of tlie Lincoln green, and sliowed reninants of 
 having been laced. There was an air of careless good- 
 humoured audacity about the fellow ; and, though under 
 military restraint, there were some of tlie citizens who 
 could not help crying out, — " Well said, Joceline JolifFe." 
 " Jolly Joceline, call ye him ?" proceeded the preach- 
 er, without showing either confusion or displeasure at 
 the interruption, — "I will make him Joceline of the jail, 
 if he interrupts me again. One of your park-keepers, 1 
 warrant, that can never forget they have borne C. R. upon 
 their badges and bugle-horns, even as a dog bears his 
 owner's name on his collar — a pretty emblem for Chris- 
 tian men ! But the brute beast hath the better of him, — 
 the brute weareth his own coat and the caitiff thrall wears 
 his master's. I have seen such a wag make a rope's 
 end wag ere now. — Where was 1 ^ — Oh, rebuking you 
 for your backslidings, men of W'oodstock. — Yes, then ye 
 will say ye have renounced Popery, and ye have renounc- 
 ed Prelacy, and then ye wipe your mouth like Pharisees 
 as ye are : and who but you for purity of religion ! But 
 I tell you, ye are but like Jehu the son of Nimshi, who 
 broke down the house of Baal, yet departed not from 
 the sons of Jeroboam. Even so ye eat not fish on Fri- 
 day with the blinded Papists, nor minced-pies on the 
 twenty-fifth day of December, like the slothful Prelatists; 
 but ye will gorge on sack-posset each night in the year 
 with your blind Presbyterian guide, and ye v\ill speak evil 
 of dignities, and revile the Commonwealth ; and ye will 
 glorif| yourselves in your park of Woodstock, and say, 
 ' Was it not walled in first of any other in England, and 
 that by Henry son of William called the Conqueror.?' 
 And ye have a princely Lodge therein, and call the same a 
 Royal Lodge ; and ye have an oak which ye call the 
 King's Oak ; and ye steal and eat the venison of the 
 park ; and ye say, ' This is the King's venison, we will 
 wash it down with a cup to the King's health — better we 
 eat it than those round-headed commonwealth knaves.'
 
 AVCOD STOCK. 15 
 
 But listen unto me, snd tnke warning. For these things 
 come we to controversy with you. And our name shall 
 be a cannon-shot, before whicli your Lodge, in the pleas- 
 antness whereof ye take pastime, shall be blown into 
 ruins ; and we will be as a wedge to split asunder the 
 King's Oak into billets to heat a brown baker's oven ; and 
 we will dispark your park, and slay your deer, and eat 
 them ourselves, neither shall you have any portion there- 
 of, whether in neck or haunch. Ye shall not halt a ten- 
 penny knife with the horns thereof, neither shall ye cut 
 a pair of breeches out of the hide, for all ye be cutlers 
 and glovers ; and ye shall have no comfort or support 
 neither from the sequestrated traitor Henry Lee, who 
 called himself Ranger of Woodstock, nor from any on 
 his behalf ; for they are coming hither who shall be call- 
 ed Maher-shalal-hashbaz, because he maketh haste to the 
 spoil." 
 
 Here ended this wild effusion, the latter part of which 
 fell heavy on the souls of the poor citizens of Wood- 
 stock, as tending to confirm a report of an unpleasing 
 nature which had been lately circulated. The conmm- 
 nication with London was indeed slow, and the news 
 which it transmitted were uncertain ; no less uncertain 
 were the times themselves, and the rumours which were 
 circulated, exaggerated by the hopes and fears of so 
 many various factions. But the general stream of 
 report, so far as Woodstock was concerned, had of late 
 run uniformly in one direction. Day after day they had 
 been informed, that the fatal fiat of Parliament had gone 
 out for selling the Park of Woodstock, destroying its 
 lodge, disparking its forest, and crazing, as far as they 
 could be erazed, all traces of its ancient fame. Many of 
 the citizens were likely to be sufferers on this occasion, 
 as several of them enjoyed, either by sufferance or right, 
 various convenient privileges of pasturage, cutting fire- 
 wood, and the like, in the royal chase ; and all the in- 
 habitants of the little borough were hurt to think, that 
 the scenery of the place was to be destroyed, its edifices 
 ruined, and its honours rent away. This is a pL.iriotlc
 
 16 
 
 AVOODSTOCK. 
 
 sensation often found in such places, which ancient dis- 
 tinctions and lon^-cherished recollections'of former days, 
 render so different from towns of recent date. The na- 
 tives of Woodstock felt it in the fullest force. They had 
 trembled at the anticipated calamity ; but now, when it 
 was announced by the appearance of those dark, stern, 
 and at the same time omnipotent soldiers — now that they 
 heard it proclaimed by the mouth of one of their military 
 preachers — they considered their fate as inevitable. 
 The causes of disagreement among themselves were for 
 the time forgotten, as the congregation, dismissed without 
 psalmody or benediction, went slowly and mournfully 
 homeward, each to his own place of abode. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Come forth, old man — Thy daughter's side 
 
 Is now the fitting place for thee : 
 When Time hath qucH'd the oak's bold pride, 
 The youthful tendril yet may hide 
 
 The ruins of the parent tree. 
 
 When the sermon was ended, the military orator v/ip- 
 ed his brow ; for, notwithstanding the coolness of the 
 weather, be v»'as heated with the vehemence of his speech 
 and action. He then descended from the pulpit, and 
 spoke a w^ord or two to the corporal who commanded 
 the party of soldiers, who, replying by a sober nod of 
 intelligence, drew his men together, and marched them 
 in order to their quarters in the town. 
 
 The preacher himself, as if nothing extraordinary had 
 happened, left the church and sauntered through the 
 streets of Woodstock, with the air of a stranger who was 
 viewing the town, without seeming to observe that he was 
 himself in his turn anxiously surveyed by the citizens, 
 whose furtive yet frequent i^lances seemed to regard him
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 17 
 
 as sometliing alike suspected and dreadful, yet on no ac- 
 count to be provoked. He heeded them not, but stalked 
 on in the manner affected by the distinguished fanatics 
 of the day ; a stiff solemn pace, a severe and at the 
 same time a contemplative look, like that of a man in- 
 censed at the interruptions which earthly objects forced 
 upon him, obliging him by their intrusion to withdraw his 
 thoughts for an instant from celestial things. Innocent 
 pleasures of what kind soever they held in suspicion and 
 contempt, and innocent mirth they abominated. It was, 
 how^ever, a cast of mind that formed men for great and 
 manly action, as it adopted principle, and that of an 
 unselfish character, for the ruling n:jotive, instead of the 
 gratification of passion. Some of these men were indeed 
 hypocrites, using the cloak of religion only as a covering 
 for their ambition ; but many really possessed the devo- 
 tional character, and the severe republican virtue, which 
 others only affected. By far the greater number hover- 
 ed between these extremes, felt to a certain extent the 
 power of religion, and complied with the times in affect- 
 ing a great deal. 
 
 The individual, whose pretensions to sanctity, written 
 as they were upon his brow and gait, have given rise to 
 the above digression, reached at length the extremiiy of 
 the principal street, which terminates upon the park of 
 Woodstock. A battlemented portal of Gothic appearance 
 defended the entrance to the avenue. It was of mixed 
 architecture, but on the whole, though composed of the 
 styles of different ages, when it had received additions, 
 had a strikii.g and imposing effect. An immense gi'te, 
 composed ol rails of hammered iron, with many a flourish 
 and scroll, displaying as its uppermost ornament the ill- 
 fated cipher of C. R. was now decayed, partly with riistj 
 partly frohi the effects of violence. 
 
 The stranger paused, as if uncertain wlieiher he should 
 demand or essay entrance. lie i(^oked through the 
 grating down an avenue skirted by majestic oaks, which 
 led onward wiili a gentle curve, as if into the dtptl'S of 
 
 2* VOL, 1.
 
 18 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 some ample and ancient forest. The wicket of the large 
 iron gate being left unwittingly open, the soldier was 
 tempted to enter, yet with some hesitation, as he that in- 
 trudes upon ground which he conjectures may be prohib- 
 ited — indeed his manner showed more reverence for the 
 scene than could have been expected from his condition 
 and character. He slackened his stately and consequen- 
 tial pace, and at length stood still, and looked around him. 
 
 Not far from the gate, he saw^ rising from the trees 
 one or two ancient and venerable turrets, bearing each 
 its own vane of rare device glittering in the autumn sun. 
 These indicated the ancient hunting seat, or Lodge, as 
 it was called, which had, since the time of Henry H., 
 been occasionally the residence of the English monarchs, 
 when it pleased them to visit the woods of Oxford, which 
 then so abounded with game, that, according to old Ful- 
 ler, huntsmen and falconers were nowhere better pleased. 
 The situation which the Lodge occupied was a piece of 
 Hat ground, now planted with sycamores, not far from the 
 entrance to that magnificent spot where the spectator first 
 stops to gaze upon Blenheim, to think of Marlborough's 
 victories, and to applaud or criticise the cumbrous mag- 
 nificence of Vanbrugh's style. 
 
 There too paused our military preacher, but with other 
 thoughts, and for other purpose, than to admire the scene 
 around him. It was not long afterwards when he beheld 
 two persons, a male and a female, approaching slowly, 
 and so deeply engaged in their own conversation, that 
 they did not raise their eyes to observe that there stood 
 a stranger in the path before them. The soldier took 
 advantage of their state of abstraction, and, desirous at 
 once to watch their motions, and avoid their observation, 
 he glided beneath one of the huge trees which skirted 
 the path, and whose boughs, sweeping the ground on 
 every side, insured him against discovery, unless in case 
 of an actual search. 
 
 In the meantime, the gentleman and lady continued to 
 advance, directing their course to a rustic seat, which
 
 WOODSTOCK. 19 
 
 Still enjoyed the sun-beams, and was placed adjacent to 
 the tree where the stranger was concealed. 
 
 The man was elderly, yet seemed bent more by sor- 
 row and infirmity, than by the weight of years. He 
 wore a mourning cloak, over a dress of the same mel- 
 ancholy colour, cut in that picturesque form, which Van- 
 dyke has rendered immortal. But although the dress 
 was handsome, it was put on and worn with a careless- 
 ness which showed the mind of the wearer ill at ease. 
 His aged, yet still handsome countenance, had the same 
 air of consequence which distinguished his dress and his 
 gait. A striking part of his appearance was a long white 
 beard, which descended far over the breast of bis slash- 
 ed doublet, and looked singular from its contrast in colour 
 with his habit. 
 
 The young lady, by whom this venerable gentleman 
 seemed to be in some degree supported as they walked 
 arm in arm, was a slight and sylph-like form, with a per- 
 son so delicately made, and so beautiful in countenance, 
 that it seemed the earth on which she walked was too 
 grossly massive a support for a creature so aerial. But 
 mortal beauty must share human sorrows. The eyes of 
 the beautiful being showed tokens of tears ; her colour 
 was lightened as she listened to her aged companion ; 
 and it was plain, from his melancholy yet displeased look, 
 that the conversation was as distressing to himself as to 
 her. When they sat down on the bench we have men- 
 tioned, the gentleman's discourse could be distinctly over- 
 heard by the eves-dropping soldier, but the answers of the 
 young lady reached his ear rather less distinctly. 
 
 " It is not to be endured," said the old man, passion- 
 ately ; '* it would stir up a paralytic wretch to start up a 
 soldier. My people have been thinned, I grant you, or 
 have fallen off from me in these times— I owe them no 
 grudge for it, poor knaves ; what should they do when 
 the pantry has no bread, and the buttery no alG>f But 
 we have still about us some rugged foresters of the old 
 Woodstock breed — old as myself most of them — uhat of 
 that .'' old wood seldom warps in the wetting ; 1 uill hold
 
 20 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 out the old bouse, and it will not be the first time that I 
 have held it against ten times tlie strength tliat we hear 
 of now." 
 
 " Alas! my dear father, —said the young lady, in a tone 
 which seemed to intimate his proposal of defence to be 
 altogether desperate. 
 
 " And why, alas f" said the gentleman angrily ; " is 
 it because I shut my door on a score or two of these 
 blood-thirsty hypocrites f" 
 
 " But their masters can as easily send a regiment or an 
 army, if they will," replied the lady j " and what good 
 would your present defence do, excepting to exasperate 
 them to your utter destruction ?" 
 
 '' Be It so, Alice," replied her father ; " I have lived 
 my time, and beyond it. 1 have outlived the kindest and 
 most prince-like of masters. What do I do on the earth 
 since the dismal thirtieth of January ^ The parricide of 
 that day w^as a si8;nal to all true servants of Charles Stuart 
 to avenge liis death, or die as soon after as they could 
 find a worthy opportunity." 
 
 " Do not speak thus, sir," said Alice Lee ; " it does 
 not become your gravity and your worth to throw away 
 that life which may yet be of service to your king and 
 country, — it will not and cannot always be thus. Eng- 
 land will not long endure the rulers which these bad times 
 liave assigned her. in the meanwhile — (here a few 
 words escaped the listener's ears) — and beware of that 
 impatience which makes bad worse." , 
 
 ''Worse?" exclaimed the impatient old man, " JFJiat 
 can be worse ? Is it not at the worst already ? Will not 
 these people expel us from the only shelter we have left 
 — dilapidate what remains of roy;il property under my 
 charge — make the palace of princes into a den of tliieves, 
 and then wipe their mouths and thank God, as if they had 
 done an alms deed r" 
 
 " Still," said his daughter, " there is hope behind, 
 and I trust the King is ere this out of their reach — We 
 have reason to think well of my brother Albert's safety."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 21 
 
 " Ay, Albert ! there again," said the old man in a 
 tone of reproach ; " had it not been for thy entreaties I 
 had gone to Worcester myself ; but I must needs lie 
 here like a worthless hound when the hunt is up, when 
 who knows what service I might have shown ? An old 
 man's head is sometimes useful when his arm is but little 
 worth. But you and Albert were so desirous that he 
 should go alone — and now, who can say what has become 
 of him^?" 
 
 '* Nay, nay, father," said Alice ; ^' we have good 
 hope that Albert escaped from that fatal day ; young 
 Abney saw him a mile from the field." 
 
 " Young Abney lied, 1 believe," said the father, in the 
 same humour of contradiction. " Young Abney's tongue 
 seems quicker than his hands, but far slower than his 
 horse's heels when he leaves the roundheads behind him. 
 I w^ould rather Albert's dead body were lain between 
 Charles and Cromwell than hear he fled as early as 
 young Abney." 
 
 " My dearest father," said the young lady, weeping 
 as she spoke, " what can I say to comfort you ?" 
 
 " Comfort me, say'st thou, girl ? 1 am sick of com- 
 fort : an honourable death, with the ruins of Woodstock 
 for my monument, were the only comfort to old Henry 
 Lee. Yes, by the memory of my father ! T will make 
 good the Lodge against these rebellious robbers." 
 
 " Yet be ruled, dearest father," said the maiden, 
 " and submit to that which we cannot gainsay. My 
 uncle Everard " 
 
 Here the old man caught at her unfinished words. 
 " Thy uncle Everard, wench ! — Well, get on. What of 
 thy precious and loving uncle Everard .^" 
 
 " Nothing, sir," she said, " if the subject displeases 
 you." 
 
 " Displeases me ?" he replied, " why should it dis- 
 please me ? or, if it did, why should'st thou, or any one, 
 affect to care about it f What is it that hath happened of 
 late years — what is it can be thought to happen that as- 
 trologer can guess at, which can give pleasure to us f"
 
 22 AVOOD STOCK. 
 
 " Fate," she replied, " may have in store the joyful 
 restoration of our banished Prince." 
 
 " Too late for my time, Alice," said the Knight ; " if 
 there be such a white page in the heavenly book, it will 
 not be turned until long after my day. But 1 see thou 
 would'st escape me. In a word, what of thy uncle Eve- 
 rard ?" 
 
 " Nay, sir," said Alice, " God knows I would rather 
 be silent for ever, than speak what might, as you would 
 take it, add to /our present distemperature." 
 
 " Distemperature !" said her father ; " Oh, thou art 
 a sweet-lipped physician, and would'st, I warrant me, drop 
 nought but sweet balm, and honey, and oil, on my dis- 
 temperature — if that is the phrase for an old man's 
 ailment when he is well nigh heart-broken. Once more, 
 what of thy uncle Everard f" 
 
 His last words were uttered in a high and peevish tone 
 of voice ; and Alice Lee answ^ered her father in a trem- 
 bling and submissive tone. 
 
 " I only meant to say sir, that I am well assured that 
 my uncle Everard, when we quit this place " 
 
 " That is to say, when we are kicked out of it by crop- 
 eared canting villains like himself. But on with thy 
 bountiful uncle — what will he do ? — will he give us the 
 remains of his worshipful and economical house-keeping, 
 the fragments of a thrice sacked capon twice a week, 
 and a plentiful fast on the other five days f Will he give 
 us beds beside his half-starved nags, and put them under 
 a short allowance of straw, that his sister's husband — that 
 I should have called my deceased angel by such a name ! 
 — and his sister's daughter, may not sleep on the stones ? 
 Or will he send us a noble each, with a warning to make 
 it last, for he had never known the ready penny so hard 
 to come by ? Or what else will your uncle Everard do 
 for us ^ Get us a furlough to beg ? Why, I can do that 
 without him." 
 
 " You misconstrue him much," answered Alice, with 
 more spirit than she had hitherto displayed ; " and 
 would you but question your own heart, you would ac-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 23 
 
 knowledge — T speak with reverence — that your tongue 
 utters wliat your better judgment would disown. My 
 uncle Everard is neither a miser nor a hypocrite, neither 
 so fond of the goods of this world that he would not 
 supply our distresses amply, nor so wedded to fanatical 
 opinions as to exclude charity for other sects beside his 
 own." 
 
 " Ay, ay, the Church of England is a sect with him I 
 doubt not, and perhaps with thee too, Alice," said the 
 Knight. " Wliat is a Mugglesman, or a Ranter, or a 
 Brownist, but a sectary ? and thy phrase places them 
 all, with Jack Presbyter himself, on the same footing with 
 our learned prelates and rehgious clergy ! Such is the 
 cant of the day thou livest in, and why shouldst thou not 
 talk like one of the wise virgins and psalm-singing sisters, 
 since, though thou hast a profane old cavalier for a fa- 
 ther, thou art own niece to uncle Everard !" 
 
 " If you speak thus, my dear father," said Alice, 
 *' what can I answer you ? Hear me but one patient 
 word, and I shall have discharged my uncle Everard'^ 
 commission." 
 
 " Oh, it is a commission then ! Surely I suspected so 
 much from the beginning — nay, have some sharp guess 
 touching the ambassador also. Come, madam, do your 
 errand, and you shall have no reason to complain of my 
 patience." 
 
 " Then, sir," replied his daughter, " my uncle Eve- 
 rard desires you would be courteous to the commission- 
 ers, who come here to sequestrate the parks and the 
 property ; or, at least, heedfully to abstain from giving 
 them obstacle or opposition : it can, he says, do no good, 
 even on your own principles, and it will give a pretext 
 for proceeding against you as one in the worst degree of 
 mahgnity, which he thinks tnay otherwise be prevented. 
 Nay, he has good hope, that if you follow his counsel, 
 the committee may, through the interest he possesses, be 
 inclined to remove the sequestration of your estate on a 
 moderate fine. Thus says my uncle ; and having com-
 
 24 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 municated his advice, I have no occasion to urge your 
 patience with farther argument." 
 
 " It is well thou dost not, Alice," answered Sir Henry 
 Lee, in a tone of suppressed anger ; " for, by the blessed 
 rood, thou hast well nigh led me into the heresy of think- 
 ing thee no daughter of mine. Ah ! my beloved com- 
 panion, who art now far from the sorrows and cares of 
 this weary world, could'st thou have thought that the 
 daughter thou didst clasp to thy bosom would, like the 
 wicked wife of Job, become a temptress to her father in 
 the hour of affliction, and recommend to him to make 
 his conscience truckle to his interest, and to beg back 
 at the bloody hands of his master's, and perhaps his son's 
 murderers, a wretched remnant of his property he has 
 been robbed of ! — Why, wench, if I must beg, think'st 
 thou I will sue to those who have made me a mendicant.'* 
 No. I will never show iny grey beard, worn in sorrow 
 for my sovereign's death, to move the compassion of some 
 proud sequestrator, who perhaps was one of the parri- 
 cides. No. If Henry Lee must sue for food, it shall 
 be of some sound loyalist like himself, who having but 
 half a loaf remaining, will not nevertheless refuse to share 
 it with him. For his daughter, she may wander her 
 own way, which leads her to a refuge with her wealthy 
 roundhead kinsfolks ; but let her no more call him father, 
 whose honest indigence she has refused to share !" 
 
 "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 sup- 
 port 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 speak- 
 est 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 apd kindly heart ?— Accursed be these civil 
 commotions ! not only do they destroy men's bodies, but
 
 >VOODSTOCK. 25 
 
 they pervert their souls, and the brave, the noble, the 
 generous, become suspicious, harsh, and mean ! Why 
 upbraid jne with Markham Everard ? Have I seen or 
 spoke with him since you discharged him tny 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 wnn my duty to you ? 
 Know, that were J capable ol' 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. 
 
 *' ] cannot tell," he said, " what to think of it. Thou 
 seem'st sincere, and wert ever a good and kindly daugh- 
 ter — how thou hast let that rebel youth creep into thy 
 heart 1 wot not ; perhaps it is a punishment on me, who 
 thought tlie loyalty of my house was like undefiled er- 
 mine. Yet here is a damned spot, and on tlie fail est 
 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 uulo my rough affairs, 
 • Put you not on the temper of the times, 
 Nor be, like them, to Tercy troublebome.' " 
 
 "I am glad to hear you quote your favourite again, 
 sir. Our little jars are ever well nigh 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 ihem together,) he felt»moie com- 
 fort in it than any other ; and as I have shared his dis- 
 ease, why it is natural 1 should take his medicine. Al- 
 beit, I pretend not to my master's art in explaining the 
 dark passages ; for 1 am but a rude man, and rustically 
 brought up to arms and hunting." 
 
 " You have seen Shakspeare, sir .^" said the young 
 lady. 
 
 3 VOL. I.
 
 26 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Silly wench," replied the Knight, " he died when 
 I WIS a mere child — thou hast heard me say so twenty 
 tijncs ; but thou would'st lead the old man away from 
 tlie lender subject. Well, though I am not blind, 1 can 
 sh it my eyes and follow. Ben Jonson 1 knew, and 
 could tell thee many a tale of our meetings at the Mer- 
 majii, where, if there was much wine, there was much wit 
 also. We did not sit blowing tobacco in each other's 
 facvs, and turning up the white 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 .?' " 
 
 " 1 do not remember them at present, sir," replied 
 Alice. 
 
 " 1 fear ye lie, wench," said her father ; " but no 
 matter — thou can'st 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 .f*" 
 
 "I know not, wench," replied Sir Henry ; " I would 
 fain have a parting blow at 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 quar- 
 rel — tliat thought hampers me, I confess." 
 
 " ()!]. let it do so, sir," replied Alice ; " there are 
 soldiers in the town, and there are three regiments at 
 Oxford." 4, 
 
 " Ah, poor Oxford!" exclaimed Sir Henry, whose 
 vacillating state of mind was turned by a word to any 
 new subject that suggested itself, — " Seat of learning 
 and loyalty! these rude soldiers are unfit inmates for thy 
 learned halls and poetical bowers ; but thy pure and bril- 
 liant lamp shall defy the foul breath of a thousand churls, 
 were they to blow at it like Boreas. The burning bush
 
 AVOODSTOCK. 27 
 
 shall not be consumed, even by the heat of this perse- 
 cution." 
 
 " True, SU-," said Alice, " and it may not be useless 
 to recollect, that any stirring of the royahsts at this un- 
 propitious moment will make them deal yet more harshly 
 with the University, which they consider as being at the 
 bottom of every thing which moves ior the King in 
 these parts." 
 
 " It is true, wench," rephed the Knight ; " and snidll 
 cause would make the villains sequestrate the poor re- 
 mains which the civil wars have left to the colleges. 
 That and the risk of my poor fellows — Well ! thou hast 
 disarmed me, girl. 1 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 feehng than a little disgust f and 
 though a roundhead, and especially a red-coat, are in 
 my opinion more poisonous dian vipers, more loathsome 
 than toads, more hateful than knotted adders, yet can I 
 overcome ray nature so far, that should one of them ap- 
 pear 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 
 that his expressions had actually raised a devil. 
 
 " Who art thou ?" at length said Sir Henry, in a rais- 
 ed and angry voice, while his daughter clung to his arm 
 in terror, little confident that her father's pacific resolu- 
 tions would abide the shock of this unwelcome ap- 
 parition. 
 
 " I am one," replied the soldier, " who neither fear nor 
 shame to call myself a poor day-labourer in the great work
 
 ^^ WOODSTOCK. 
 
 of England — uinph ! — Ay, a simple and sincere upholder 
 of the good old cause." 
 
 " And what the devil do you seek here r" said the 
 old Knight, fiercely. 
 
 " The welcome due to the steward of the Lords 
 Commissioners," answered the soldier. 
 
 " VVeicome 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 nnme, addressed, indeed, to Alice, but in such a 
 tone that showed he cared not for its bfeing heard by the 
 soldier. 
 
 " Desborough — the ploughman Desborough — as grov- 
 elling a clown as is in England — a fellow that would be 
 best at home, like an ancient Scytliian, under the tilt of a 
 vvagor^ d — n him. Harrison — a bloody-minded, rant- 
 ing 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- 
 fan2:led notions about government, the clearest object of 
 which is to establish the tail upon the head ; a fellow who 
 leaves you the statutes and laws of old England, to prate 
 of Ro:n.3 and Greece — sees the Areopagus in Westmin- 
 ster-Hail, and takes old Noll for a Roman Consul — 
 Adad, he is like to prove a dictator amongst them in- 
 stead. 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 irrev- 
 erent and unbecoiuino; fashion. And albeit I know that 
 vou malignants think you have a right to make free with 
 that damnation, which vou seem to use as your own por-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 29 
 
 lion, yet it is superfluous to invoke it against others, who 
 have better hopes in their thoughts, and better words 
 hi their mouths." 
 
 " Thou art but a canting varlet," replied the Knight : 
 '* and yet thou art right in some sense — for it is super- 
 iuous to curse men who akeady are damned £S black as 
 ihe smoke of hell itself." 
 
 '' I prithee forbear," continued the soldier, '■^ for 
 manners' sake if not for conscience — grisly oaths suit ill 
 with grey boards." 
 
 " Nay, that is truth, if the devil spoke it," said the 
 Knight ; '' and I thank Heaven I can follow good coun- 
 sel, 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 bj' 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 sur- 
 render, neither as acknowledging of these so termed 
 Commissioners, nor as for his own individual part fearing 
 tiieir force, hut purely to avoid the loss of English blood, 
 of which so much hr.ih bt^en spilt in these late times." 
 
 '* It is well spoken," said the steward of the Commis- 
 sioners ; " and therefore, I pray you, let us walk togethti 
 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 th;\ 
 keeping." 
 
 " What vessels ?" exclaimed tl-e fiery old Knight : 
 " and belonging to whom ? Unbaptized dog, speak civil 
 of the Martyr in my presence, or T will do a deed mit- 
 becomins 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. 
 
 3* YOL. I.
 
 •>0 >VOOUSTOCK. 
 
 Ills antagonist, on the contrary, kept his temper com- 
 pletely, and waving his hand to add impression to his> 
 speech, he said, with a calmness which a2;gravated 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 hke 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 de- 
 cided this great controversy^ in favour of us, and ours, 
 against thee and thine ? V/herefore, render up thy stew- 
 ardslup, peacefully, and dehver up to me the chattels of 
 ihe Man, Charles Stuart." 
 
 " 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 throw- 
 ing the scabbard over the trees, placed himself in a pos- 
 ture 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 othei 
 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 disarm- 
 ed, at the mercy of his antagonist. Tiie 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.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 31 
 
 *' Thou art delivered unto my hands," he said, " and 
 by the law of arms I might smile thee under the fifth rib, 
 even as Asahel was struck dead by Abner, the son of 
 Nun, 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 ray 
 spear ; nevertheless, seeing that there may be a turning 
 from thine 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 quarter- 
 staff, 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 vengeance upon 
 the head of the steward, had not Sir Henry interposed. 
 
 " We must trail bats now, Joceline — our time of shoul- 
 dering them is passed. It skills not striving against the 
 hill — 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 the large wolf- 
 dog, in strength a mastiff, in form and almost in fleetness 
 a greyhound, which we have already mentioned. Bevis 
 was the noblest of the kind which ever pulled down a 
 stag, tawny-coloi.ired like a lion, with a black nuizzle 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 dis- 
 cover who the stranger could be, towards whom, though
 
 32 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 of so questionable an appearance, he was enjoined for- 
 bearance. 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 yeais of constant misfortune have beon unable 
 fully to teach me. Thou iiast 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 
 v.'ith 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 ; 1 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 fartlier dispute or cereinony. Joceline Joliife 
 is nearer thy degree than I am, and will make surrender 
 to thee of the Lodge and household stufF. ' Vvithhold 
 nothing, Joliffe — let them have all. For me I will never 
 cross the threshold again — but where to rest for a night .^ 
 1 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 first a 
 glance to Alice, then looked to Heaven, then to earth, 
 and last to the four quarters of the horizon, and ihen mur- 
 mured out, " Certainly — without question — might he but 
 run down to put the house in order." 
 
 " Order enough — order enough — for those fhnt may 
 soon be glad of clean straw in a barn," said the Knight ;
 
 WOODSTOCK. 33 
 
 " 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 1 took thee up \vl:en thou 
 wert but a ragged Robin, made a keeper of thee, and 
 so forth. — What of that t' 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 judginent," 
 said Jolifte. " The hut is yours, such as it is, and should 
 be were it a king's palace, as 1 wish it were even for your 
 honour's sake, and JMistress Aiire — only I could wish 
 your honour would condescend to let me step down be- 
 fore, 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 Hker to the rest of a 
 world, which is all unsliaped. Go thou with that man. 
 — What is thy name, friend f" 
 
 "Joseph Touikins is my name in the flesh," snid the 
 steward. " Men call me Honest Joe, and Trusty 
 Tomkins." 
 
 " If thou hast dese;-ved 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 posture in which they were 
 introduced to the reader.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 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 i^pirit. 
 Of you I speak. Legend of Captain Jones. 
 
 Joseph Tgmkjns 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 disa[)peared 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 sum- 
 mon 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 Tomkin's 
 cloak. 
 
 . " Thou art a rare one, I fear me — " said the keeper, 
 looking to his new^ acquaintance. *' J have heard of men 
 who have charms to steal both dogs and deer." 
 
 " Trouble thyself not about my qualities, friend," said 
 Joseph Tomkins, " but bethink thee of doing thy mas- 
 ter's bidding." 
 
 Joceline did not immediately answer, but at length, as 
 if in sign of truce, stuck the end of his quarter-staff 
 upright in the ground, and leant upon it as he said gruf- 
 fly, — " 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 v/ere done jingling, 
 or I had rung even-song upon your pate."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 35 
 
 The Independent smiled grimly as he replied, " Nay, 
 friend, it is well for th\self, lor 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 Jerusa- 
 lem 1 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 ordeis." 
 
 " Umph — 1 know not," said Tomkins. " J must be- 
 ware 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 1 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 Pres- 
 byterian man the Mayor, so that the transfer may be 
 made before witnesses ; whereas, were there none with 
 us but thou to deliver, and 1 to take possession, the men 
 of Belial might say. Go to, Trusty Tomkins hath been 
 an Edomite — Honest Joe hath been as an Ishniaelite, 
 rising up early and dividing the spoil with them that serv- 
 ed the Man — yea, they that wore beards and green 
 jerkins, as in remembrance of the Alan and of his govern- 
 ment." 
 
 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
 
 36 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 fingers to scratch a large shock head of hair, as if that 
 oper-ation was necessary to enable him to come to a con- 
 clusion^ " 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 geneial sweep that sent all our plate 
 to the smelling-pot, to put our Knight's troop on horse- 
 back. Now, if thou takest not these off my hand, I may 
 come to trouble, since it may be thought J have minished 
 their ntmibers ; — Whereas, I being as honest a fellow — " 
 
 *' As ever stole venison," said Tomkins — " nav, 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, tank- 
 ards and such like, I would as soon have drunk the 
 melted silver as stolen the vessel made out of it. So 
 that I w^ould 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 blame- 
 less." 
 
 " Ay, truly .^" said Tomkins ; " and who is to hold me 
 blameless if they should see cause to think anything 
 minished f Not the right worshipful Commissioners, to 
 whom the property of the estate is as their own ; there- 
 fore, 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, " 1 
 should be at my hut to make matters somewhat confor- 
 mable for him, and Mistress Alice, for my old dame Joan 
 is something dunny, and will scarce know how to manage 
 — and yet, to speak truth, by the mass I would rather 
 not see Sir Henry to-night, since what has happed to-day 
 hath roused his spleen, and it is a peradventure he may
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 37 
 
 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 restoi" 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 f it comes of use and wont. Were you now, 
 in your bodily self, to light suddenly on a Maypole, whh 
 all the blithe moiris-dancers prancing around it to the 
 merry pipe and tabor, with bells jingling, ribbons flutter- 
 ing, lads frisking, and laughing lasses leaping till you 
 might see where the scarlet garter fastened the light-blue 
 hose, 1 think some feeling, resembling either natural so- 
 ciality, or old use and wont, would get the better, fi lend, 
 even of thy gravity, and thou would'st fling thy cuckoldy 
 steeple-hat one way,- and that blood-thirsty long-sword 
 another, and trip like the noodles of Hogs-Norton, uhen 
 the pigs play on the organ." 
 
 The Independent turned fiercely round on the keeper, 
 and replied, " How now, ]\lr. Green Jerkin ? what lan- 
 guage is this to one whose hand is at the plough ? I ad- 
 vise tliee to put curb on thy tongue, lest thy ribs pay the 
 forfeit." 
 
 " Nay, do not take the high tone with me, brother," 
 answered Joceline ; " remember thou hast not the old 
 Knight of sixty-five to deal with, but a fellow as bitter and 
 prompt as thyself — it may be a little more so — younger 
 at all events — and prithee, why should'st thou take such 
 umbrage at a Maypole ? I would thou hadst known one 
 Phil Hazledine of these parts — He was the best monis- 
 dancer betwixt Oxford and Burford." 
 
 The more shame to him," answered the Independent ; 
 " and 1 trust he has seen the error of his ways, and made 
 himself (as, if a man of action, he easily might) fit for 
 
 4 VOL. I.
 
 38 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 better company than wood-hunters, deer-stealers, Maid 
 Marions, swash-bucklers, deboshed revellers, bloody 
 brawlers, maskers and mummers, lewd men and light 
 women, fools and fiddlers, and carnal sell'-pleasers of 
 every description." 
 
 " Well," replied the keeper, " you are out of breath 
 n time ; for here we stand before the famous Maypole 
 of Woodstock." 
 
 They paused in an open space of meadow-land, beau- 
 tifully skirted by large oaks and sycamores, one of which, 
 as king of the forest, stood a little detached from the 
 rest, as if scorning the vicinity of any rival. It was 
 scathed and gnarled in the branches, but the immense 
 trunk still showed to what gigantic size the monarch of 
 the forest can attain in the groves of merry England. 
 
 " That is called the King's Oak," said Joceline ; " the 
 oldest men of Woodstock know not how old it is ; they 
 say Henry used to sit under it with fair Rosamond, and 
 see the lasses dance, and the lads of the village run races, 
 and wrestle for belts or bonnets." • 
 
 " 1 nothing doubt il, friend," said Tomkins ; " a tyrant 
 and a harlot were fitting patron and patroness for such 
 vanities." 
 
 " Thou may'st say thy say, friend," replied the keep- 
 er, " so thou lettest me say mine. There stands the 
 Maypole, as thou seest, half a flight-shot f om the King's 
 Oak, in the midst of the meadow. The King gave ten 
 shillin2;s from the customs of Woodstock to make a new 
 one yearly, besides a tree fitted for the purpose out of 
 the forest. Now it- is warped and withered, and twisted 
 like a wasted briar-rod. The green, too, used to be 
 close-shaved, and rolled till it was smooth as a velvet 
 mantle— now it is rough and overgrown." 
 
 " Well, well, friend Joceline," said the Independent, 
 " but where was the edification of all this ? — what use 
 of doctrine could be derived from a pipe and tabor ^ or 
 was tliere ever aught like wisdom in a bagpipe .^" 
 
 " You may ask better scholars that," said Joceline^ 
 " but methinks men cannot be always grave, and with
 
 \yGODr^TOCK. 39 
 
 the hat over their brow. A young maiden wiil laugh as 
 a tender flower will blow — ay, and a lad will like her the 
 better for it ; just as llie same bliiiie spring that makes 
 the young birds whistle, bids the blithe fawns skip. 
 There have come worse days since the jolly old times 
 have gone by ; — 1 tell thee, that in the holidays which 
 you, Mr. Longsword, have put down, I have seen this 
 green-sward alive with merry maidens and manly fellows. 
 The good old rector himself thought it was no sin to 
 come for a while and look on, and his goodly cassock 
 and scarf kept us all in good order, and taught us to 
 hmit our mirth within the bounds of discretion. We 
 might, it may be, crack a broad jest, or pledge a friendly 
 cup a turn too often, but it was in mirth and good neigh- 
 bourhood — Ay, and if there was a bout at single-stick, or 
 a belly-full of boxing, it was all for love and kindriess ; 
 and beliera few dry blows in drink, than the bloody do- 
 ings we have had in sober earnest, since the presbyter's 
 cap got above the bishop's mitre, and we exchanged our 
 goodly rectors and learned doctors, whose sermons were 
 all bolstered up with as much Greek and Latin as might 
 have confounded the devil himself, for weavers and cob- 
 lers, and such other pulpit volunteers, as — as we heard 
 this morning — It will out." 
 
 " Well, friend," said the Independent, with patience 
 scarce to have been expected, "I quarrel not with thee 
 for nauseating my doctrine. If thine ear is so much 
 tickled with tabor tunes and morris tripping, truly it is 
 not likely thou should'st find pleasant savour in more 
 wholesome and sober food. — But let us to the Lodge, 
 that we may go about our business there before the sun 
 sets." 
 
 " Troth, and that may be advisable for more reasons 
 than one," said the keeper, " for there have been tales 
 about the Lodge which have made men afeard to har- 
 bour there after nightfall." 
 
 " Were not yon old Knight, and yonder damsel his 
 daughter, wont to dwell there .'^" said the Independent. 
 " My information said so."
 
 40 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Ay, truly did they," said Joceline ; " and when 
 they kept a jolly household, all went well enough ; for 
 nothing banishes fear like good ale. But after the best 
 of our men went to the wars, and were slain at Naseby 
 flight, they who were left found the Lodge more lone- 
 some, and the old Knight has been much deserted of his 
 servants : — marry, it might be, that he has lacked silver 
 of late to pay groom and lackey." 
 
 " A potential reason for the diminution of a household," 
 said the soldier. 
 
 ." Hight, sir, even so," replied the keeper. " They 
 spoke of steps in the great gallery, heard by dead of the 
 night, and voices that whispered at noon in the matted 
 chambers ; and the servants pretended that these things 
 scared them away ; but in my poor judgment, when 
 Martinmas and Whitsuntide came round without a penny- 
 fee, the old blue-bottles of serving-nien began to think 
 of creeping elsewhere before the frost chilled thern — No 
 devil so frightful as that which dances in the pocket where 
 there is no cross to keep him out." 
 
 " You were reduced, then, to a petty household .''" 
 said the Independent. 
 
 " Ay, marry, were we," said Joceline ; " but we kept 
 some half-score together, what with blue-bottles in the 
 Lodge, what with green caterpillars of the chase, like 
 him who is yours to command ; we stuck together till 
 w^e found a call to take a morning's ride somewhere or 
 other." 
 
 " To the town of Worcester," said the soldier, " where 
 you were crushed like vermin and palmer worms, as you 
 are." 
 
 " You may say your pleasure," replied the keeper ; 
 '* ril never contradict a man who has got my head under 
 his belt. Our backs are at the wall, or you vVould not be 
 here." 
 
 " Nay, friend," said the Independent, " thou riskest 
 nothing by thy freedom and trust in me. I can be hon 
 camarado to a good soldier, although I have striven with
 
 ^VOOL- STOCK. 41 
 
 him even to the going down of the sun — But here we 
 are in front of the Lodge." 
 
 They stood accordingly in front of the old Gothic 
 building, irregularly constructed, and at different times, 
 as the humour of the English monarchs led them to taste 
 the pleasures of Woodstock Chase, and to make such 
 improvements for their own accommodations as the in- 
 creasing luxury of each age required. Tlie oldest part 
 of the structure had been named by tradition Fair Pvosa- 
 mond's Tower ; it was a small turret of great height, 
 with narrow windows, and walls of massive thickness. 
 The tQwer had no opening to the ground, or means of 
 descending, a great part of the lower portion being solid 
 mason-work. It was traditionally said to have been ac- 
 cessible only by a sort of small drawbridge, which might 
 be dropped at pleasure from a little portal near the sum- 
 mit of the turret, to the battlements of another tower of 
 the same construction, but twenty feet lower, and con- 
 taining only a winding stair-case, called in Woodstock 
 Love's Ladder ; because it is said, that by ascending this 
 stair-case, to the top of the tower, and then making use 
 of the drawbridge, Henry obtained access to the chamber 
 of liis paramour. 
 
 This tradition had been keenly impugned by Dr. 
 Rochecliffe, the former rector of Woodstock, wlio insist- 
 ed, that what was called Rosamond's Tower, was merely 
 an interior keep, or citadel, to which the lord or warden 
 of the castle might retreat, when other points of safet\ 
 failed him ; and either protract his defence, or, at tiie 
 worst, stipulate for reasonable terms of surrender. The 
 people of Woodstock, jealous of their ancient traditions, 
 did not relish this new mode of explaining them away ; 
 and it is even said, that the T^layor, whom wt have alreadv 
 introduced, became Presbyterian, in revenge of the 
 doubts cast by the rector upon this in)portHnt subject, 
 rather choosing to give up the Liturgy than his fixed 
 belief in Rosamond's Tower, and Love's Ladder. 
 
 4* VOL. I.
 
 42 AVOOD STOCK. 
 
 The rest of the Lodge was of considerable extent, and 
 of different ages ; comprehending a nest of little courts, 
 surrounded by buildings which corresponded with each 
 other, sometimes within-doors, sometimes by crossing the 
 courts, and frequently in both ways. The different 
 heights of the building announced that they could only 
 be connected by the usual variety of stair-cases, which 
 exercised the limbs of our ancestors in the sixteenth and 
 earlier centuries, and seem sometimes to have been 
 contrived for no other purpose. 
 
 Tlie varied and multiplied fronts of this irregular 
 building were, as Dr. Rochecliffe was wont to say, an 
 absolute banquet to the architectural antiquary, a*s they 
 certainly contained specimens of every style which ex- 
 isted from the pure Norman of Henry of Anjou, down 
 to the composite half Gothic, half classical architecture, 
 of Elizabeth and her successor. Accordingly the Rector 
 was himself as much enamoured of Woodstock as ever 
 was Henry of Fair Rosamond ; and as his infimacy with 
 Sir Henry Lee permitted him entrance at all times to the 
 Royal Lodge, he used to spend whole days in wandering 
 about the antique apartments, examining, measuring, 
 studying, and finding out excellent reasons for architect- 
 ural peculiarities, which probably only owed their exist- 
 ence to the freakish fancy of a Gothic artist. But the 
 old antiquarian had been expelled from his living by the 
 intolerance and troubles of the times, and his successor. 
 Nehemiah Holdenough, would have considered an elabo- 
 rate investigation of the profane sculpture and architecture 
 of bhnded and blood-thirsty Papists, together with the 
 history of the dissolute amours of old Norman monarchs, 
 as little better than a bowing down before the calves of 
 Bethel, and a drinking of the cup of abominations. — We 
 return to the course of our story. 
 
 " There is," said the Independent Tomkins, after he 
 had carefully perused the front of the building, " many a 
 rare monument of olden wickedness about this miscalled 
 Royal Lodge ; verily, I shall rejoice much to see the 
 same destroyed, yea, burned to ashes, and the ashes
 
 WOODSTOCK. 4S 
 
 thrown into the brook Kedron, or any other brook, that 
 the land may be cleansed from the memory thereof, 
 neither remember the iniquity with which their fathers 
 have sinned." 
 
 The keeper heard him with secret indignation, and 
 began to consider with himself, whether, as they stood 
 but one to one, and without chance of speedy interference, 
 he was not called upon, by 1 is official duty, to castigate 
 the rebel who used language so defamatory. But he 
 fortunately recollected, that the strife must be a doubtful 
 one — that the advantage of arms was against him — and 
 that, in especial, even if he should succeed in the combat, 
 it would be at the risk of severe retaliation. It must be 
 owned, too, that there was something about the Indepen- 
 dent so dark and mysterious, so grim and grave, that the 
 more open spirit of the keeper felt oppressed, and, if 
 not overawed, at least kept in doubt concerning him ; 
 and he thought it wisest, as well as safest, for his master 
 and himself, to avoid all subjects of dispute, and know 
 better with whom he was dealing, before he made eithei- 
 tViend or enemy of him. 
 
 The great gate of the Lodge was strongly bolted, 
 but the wicket opened on Joceline's raising the latch. 
 There was a short passage of ten feet, which had been 
 formerly closed by a portcullis at the inner end, while 
 tliree loop-holes opened on either side, through which 
 any daring intruder might be annoyed, who. having sur- 
 prised the fiist gate, must be thus exposed to a severe 
 lire before he could force the second. But the machin- 
 ery of the portcullis was damaged, and it now remained 
 a fixture, brandishing its jaw, well furnished with iron 
 fangs, but incapable of dropping it across the path of in- 
 vasion. 
 
 The way, therefore, lay open to the great hall, or outer 
 vestibule of the Lodge. (Jne end of this long and dusky 
 apartment was entirely occupied by a gallery, which had 
 in ancient limes served to accommodate the musicians 
 and minstrels. There was a clumsy stair-case at either 
 side of it, composed of entire logs of a foot square ; and
 
 44 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 in each angle of the ascent was placed, by way of senti- 
 nel, the figure of a Norman foot-soldier, having an open 
 casque on his head, which displayed features as stern as 
 the painter's genius could devise. Their arms were 
 buff-jackets, or shirts of mail, round bucklers, with spikes 
 in the centre, and buskins, which adorned and defended 
 the feet and ancles, but left the knees bare. These 
 wooden warders held great swords, or maces, in their 
 hands, like military guards on duty. Many an empty 
 hook and brace, along the walls of the gloomy apartment, 
 marked the spots from which arms, long preserved as 
 trophies, had been, in the pressure of the war, once more 
 taken down to do service in the field, like veterans whom 
 extremity of danger recalls to battle. On other rusty 
 fastenings were still displayed the hunting trophies of the 
 monarchs to whom the Lodge belonged, and of the sylvan 
 knights to whose care it had been from time to time 
 confided. 
 
 At the nether end of the hall, a huge, heavy stone- 
 wrought chimney-piece, projected itself ten feet from the 
 wall, adorned with many a cipher, and many a scutcheon 
 of the Royal House of England. In its present state, 
 it yawned like the arched mouth of a funeral vault, or 
 perhaps might be compared to the crater of an extin- 
 guished volcano. But the sable complexion of the mas- 
 sive stone-work, and all around it, showed that the time 
 had been v*ben it sent its huge fires blazing up the huge 
 chininev, besides puffing many a volume of smoke over 
 the heads of the jovial guests, whose royalty or nobility 
 did not render them sensitive enough to quarrel with such 
 slight inconvenience. On these occasions, it was the 
 tradition of the house, that two cartloads of wood was 
 the regular allowance for the fire between noon and cur- 
 few, and the andirons, or do2;s, as they were termed, con- 
 structed for retaining the blazing fire-wood on the heajth, 
 were wrought in the shape of lions of such gigantic size, 
 as might well warrant the legend. There were long seats 
 of stone within the chimney, where, in despite of the tre- 
 mendous heat, monarchs were sometimes said to have
 
 WOODSTOCK- 
 
 45 
 
 taken their station, and amused themselves with broiling 
 the umblcs, or dowsets, of the deer, upon the glowing em- 
 bers, with their own ro) al hands. Tradition was here 
 also ready with her record, to show what merry gibes, 
 such as might be exchanged between prince and peer, had 
 flown about at the merry banquet which followed the 
 Michaelmas hunt. She could tell too, exactly, where 
 King Stephen sat when he darned his own piincely hose, 
 and of the odd tricks he had put upon little Winkin, the 
 tailor of Woodstock. 
 
 Most of this rude revelry belonged to the Plantagenei 
 times. When the house of Tudor acceded to tiie throne, 
 they were more chary of their royal presence, and feast- 
 ed in halls and' chambers far within, abandoning the out- 
 most hall to the yeomen of the guard, who mounted 
 their watch there, and passed away the night wiih wassail 
 and mirth, exchanged sometimes for frightful tales of ap- 
 paritions and sorceries, which made some of those grow 
 pale, in whose ears the trumpet of a French foeman would 
 have sounded as jollily as a summons to the woodland 
 chase. 
 
 Joceline pointed out the peculiarities of the place to his 
 gloomy companion more briefly than we have detailed 
 them to the reader. The Independent seemed to listen 
 with some interest at first, but, flinging it suddenly aside, 
 he said, in a solemn tone, " Perish Babylon, as thy mas- 
 ter Nebuchadnezzar hath perislied ! He is a wanderer, 
 and thou shaltbe a v,asle place — yea, and a wilderness — 
 yea, a desert of salt, in which there shall be thirst and 
 famine." 
 
 " There is like* to be enough of both to-night," said 
 Joceline, " unless the good Knight's larder be somewhat 
 fuller than it is wont." 
 
 " We must care for the creature-comforts," said the 
 Independent, " but in due season, when our duties are 
 done. — Whither lead these entrances .^" 
 
 " That to the right," replied the keeper, " leads to 
 what are called the state-apartments, not used since the
 
 46 ^VOODSTOCK. 
 
 year sixteen hundred and thirty-nine, when his blessed 
 Majesty " 
 
 " How, sir," interrupted the Independent, in a voice 
 of thiinder, *' doest thou speak of Chailes Stuart as bles- 
 sing, or blessed f — beware the proclamation to that 
 effect." 
 
 " I meant no harm," answered the keeper, suppres- 
 sing liis disposition to make a harsher reply. " My busi- 
 ness is with bolts and bucks, not with titles and state 
 affairs. But yet, whatever may have happed since, that 
 poor King was followed with blessings enouiih from 
 Woodstock, for he left a glove full of broad pieces for 
 the poor of the place " 
 
 '' Peace, friend," said the Independent ; "I will think 
 thee else one of those besotted and blinded Papists, who 
 hold, that bestowing of alms is an atonement and wash- 
 ing away of the wrongs and oppressions which have 
 been wrought by the almsgiver. Thou sayest, then, 
 these were the apartments of Charles Stuart ?" 
 
 " And of his father, James, before him, and Elizabeth 
 before him, and bluff King Henry, who, builded that 
 wing before them all." 
 
 " And there, J suppose, the Knight and his daughter 
 dweU?" 
 
 '' No," replied Joceline ; " Sir Henry Lee had too 
 much reverence for — for things which are now thought 
 worth no reverence at all — Besides, the state-rooms are 
 unaired, and in indifferent order, since of late years- 
 The Knight Ranger's apartment lies by that passage to 
 the left." 
 
 " And whither goes yonder stair w^ich seems both to 
 lead upwards and downwards ?" 
 
 '< Upwards," replied the keeper, " it leads to many 
 apartments, used for various purposes, of sleeping, and 
 other accommodation. Downwards to the kitchen, offi- 
 ces, and vaults of the castle, which at this time of the 
 evening, you cannot see without lights."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 47 
 
 " We will to the apartments of your Knight, then," 
 said the Independent. " Is there fitting accoininodation 
 there ?" 
 
 " Such as has served a person of condition, whose 
 lodging is now worse appointed," answered the lionest 
 keeper, his bile rising so fast that he added, in a muttering 
 and inaudible tone, " so it may well serve a crop-eared 
 knave like thee." 
 
 He acted as the usher, however, and led on towards 
 the ranger's apartments. 
 
 This suite opened by a short passage from the hall, 
 secured at time of need by two oaken doors, which could 
 be fastened by large bais of the same, that were drawn 
 out of the wall, and entered into square holes contrived 
 for their reception on the other side of the portal. At 
 the end of this passage, a small anti-room received them, 
 into which opened the sitting apartment of the good Knight 
 — which, in the style of the times, might have been term- 
 ed a fair summer parlour, lighted by two oriel windows, 
 so placed as to command each of them a separate avenue, 
 leading distant and deep down into the forest. The 
 principal ornament of tlie apartment, besides two or three 
 family portraits of less interest, was a tall full-length 
 picture, which hung above the chimney-piece, which, 
 like that in the hall, was of heavy stone-work, ornament- 
 ed with carved scutcheons, emblazoned with various de- 
 vices. The portrait was that of a man about fifty years 
 of age, in complete plate armour, and painted in the 
 harsh and dry manner of Holbein — probably, indeed, the 
 work of that artist, as the dates corresponded. The for- 
 mal and marked angles, points, and projections of the 
 armour, were a good subject for the harsh pencil of that 
 early school. The face of the Knight was, from the 
 fading of the colours, pale and dim, like that of some 
 being from the other world, yet the lines exj)ressed for- 
 cibly pride and exultation. He pointed with his leading- 
 staff or truncheon to the back ground, where in such per- 
 spective as the artist possessed, were depicted the remains 
 of a burning church, or monastery, and four or five
 
 48 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 soldiers, in red cassocks, bearing away in triumph what 
 seerned a brazen font or laver. Above their heads might 
 be traced in scroll, " Lee T^ictor sic voluit^ Right 
 opposite to the picture hung, in a niche in the wall, a 
 complete set of tilting armour, the black and gold colours, 
 and ornaments of which, exactly corresponded with those 
 exhibited in the portrait. 
 
 The picture was one of those which, from something 
 marked in the features and expression, attract the ob- 
 servation even of those who are ignorant of art. The 
 Independent looked at it until a smile passed transiently 
 over his clouded brow. Whether he smiled to see the 
 grim old cavalier employed in desecrating a religious 
 house — (an occupation much conforming to the practice 
 of his own sect) — whether he smiled in contempt of the 
 old painter's harsh and dry mode of working — or whether 
 the sight of this remarkable portrait revived some other 
 ideas, the under-keeper could not decide. 
 
 The smile passed away in an instant, as the soldier 
 looked to the oriel windows. The recesses within them 
 were raised a step or two from the wall. In one was 
 placed a walnut tree reading-desk, and a huge stuffed 
 arm-chair, covered with Spanish leather. A little cabinet 
 stood beside, with some of its shuttles and drawers open, 
 displaying hawks-bells, dog-whistles, instruments for trim- 
 ming a falcon's feathers, bridle-bits of various construc- 
 tions, and other trifles connected with sylvan sport. 
 
 The other little recess was differently furnished. 
 There lay some articles of needle-work on a small table, 
 besides a lute, with a book having some airs pricked down 
 in it, and a frame for working embroidery. Some tap- 
 estry was displayed around the recess, with more atten- 
 tion to ornament than was visible in the rest of the apart- 
 ment ; the arrangement of a few bow-pots, with such 
 flowers as the fading season afforded, showed also the 
 superintendence of female taste. 
 
 Tomkins cast an eye of careless regard upon these 
 subjects of female occupation, then stepped into the far- 
 ther window, and began to turn the leaves of a folio>
 
 WOODSTOCK. 49 
 
 which lay open on the reading-desk, apparently with some 
 interest. Joceline, who had determined to watch his 
 motions without interfering with them, was standing at 
 some distance in dejected silence, when a door behind 
 the tapestry suddenly opened, and a pretty village maid 
 tripped out with a napkin in her hand, as if she liad been 
 aboiit some household duty. 
 
 " How now. Sir Impudence ?" she said to Joceline, 
 in a smart tone ; " what do you here prowling about the 
 apartments when the master is not at home ?" 
 
 But instead of the answer which peihaps she expect- 
 ed, Joceline Joliffe cast a mournful glance towards the 
 soldier in the oriel window, as if to make what he said 
 fully intelligible, and replied with a dejected appearance 
 and voice, " Alack, my pretty Phoebe, there come 
 those here that have more right or might than any of us, 
 and will nse little ceremony in coming when they will, 
 and staying while they please." 
 
 He darted another glance atTomkins, who still seem- 
 ed busy with the book before him, then sidled close to 
 the astonished girl, who had continued looking alternately 
 at the keeper and at the stranger, as if she had been 
 unable to understand the words of the first, or to com- 
 prehend the meaning of the second being present. 
 
 *' Go," whispered Joliffe, approaching his m.outh so 
 near her cheek, that his breath waved the curls of her 
 hair; "go, my dearest Phabe, trip it as fast as a fawn 
 down to my lodge — 1 will soon be there, and " 
 
 "Your lodge, indeed !" said Phoebe ; " you are very 
 bold, for a poor killbuck that never frightened any thing 
 before save a dun deer — Yowr lodge, indeed ! — I am like 
 to go there, I think." 
 
 " Hush, hush ! Phoebe — here is no time for jesting. 
 Down to my hut, I say, like a deer, for the Knight and 
 Mrs. Alice are both there, and I fear will not return hith- 
 er again. All's naught, girl — and our evil days are come 
 at last with a vengeance — we are fairly at bay and fairly 
 hunted down." 
 
 5 VOL. I.
 
 S>0 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Can this be, Joceline ?" said the poor girl, turning 
 to the keeper with an expression of fright in her coun- 
 tenance, wliich she Jjad hitherto averted in rural co- 
 quetry. 
 
 '' As sure, my dearest Phoebe, as " 
 
 The rest of the asseveration was lost in Phffibe's ear, 
 so closely did the keeper's lips approach it ; and if rhey 
 a])proached so very near as to touch her cheek, grief, like 
 impatience, hath its privileges, and poor Phoebe had 
 enough of serious alarm to prevent her from demurring 
 upo;i such a triHe. 
 
 But no trifle was the approach of Joceline's lips to 
 Piioebe's pretty though sun-burnt cheek, in the estima- 
 tion of the Independent, who, a little before the object 
 of Joceline's vigilance, had been in his turn the observer 
 of the keeper's demeanour, so soon as the interview be- 
 twixt Phoebe and him had become so interesting. And 
 when he remarked the closeness of Joceline's argument, 
 he raised his voice to a pitch of harshness that would 
 have rivalled that of a saw, and which at once made Jo- 
 celine and Phoebe spring six feet apart each in contrary 
 directions, and if Cupid was of the party, must have sent 
 him out at the window like a wild-duck flying from a 
 culverin. Instantly throwing himself into the attitude of 
 a preacher and reprover of vice, " How now !" he ex- 
 claimed, " shameless and impudent as you are ! — What 
 — chambering and wantoning in our very presence ! — 
 How — would you play your pranks before the steward of 
 the Commissioners of the High Court of Parliament, as 
 ye would in a booth at the fulsome fair, or amidst the 
 trappings and tracings of a profane dancing-school, 
 where the scoundrel minstrels make their ungodly vvea 
 pons to squeak, ' Kiss and be kind, the fiddler's blind .'" 
 — But here," he said, dealing a perilous thump upon the 
 volume — " Here is the King and high priest of those vices 
 and follies!— Here is he, whom men of folly profanely 
 call nature's miracle! — Here is he, whom princes chose 
 for their cabinet- keeper, and whom maids of honour 
 take for their bed-fellow ! — Here is the prime teacher of
 
 WOODSTOCK. 51- 
 
 fine words, foppery and folly — Here !" — (dealing another 
 thump upon the volume — and oh ! revered of the Rox- 
 burghe, it was the first folio — beloved of the Bannatyne, 
 it was Hemmings and Condel — it was the ediiio prin- 
 ceps) — " On thee," he continued — " on thee, William 
 Shakspeare, 1 charge whatever of such lawless idleness 
 and iuimodest folly hath defiled the land since thy day !" 
 
 " By the mass, a heavy accusation," said Joceline, the 
 bold recklessness of whose temper could not be long 
 overawed ; " Odds pitlikins, is our master's old favour- 
 ite, Will of Stratford, to answer for every buss that has 
 been snatched since James's time f — a perilous reckon- 
 ing truly — but 1 wonder who is sponsible lor what lads and 
 lasses did before his day f " 
 
 " ScofF not," said the soldier, " lest I, being called 
 thereto by the voice within me, do deal with thee as a 
 scorner. Verily I say, that since the devil fell from Hea- 
 ven, he never wanted agents on earth ; yet nowb.ere hath 
 he met with a wizard having such infinite power over 
 men's souls as this pestilent fellow Shakspeare. Seeks 
 a wife a foul example for adultery, here she shall find 
 it — Would a man know how to train his fellow to be a 
 murderer, here shall he find tutoring — Would a* lady 
 marry a heathen negro, she shall have chronicled exam- 
 ple for it — Would any one scorn at his Maker, he shall 
 be furnished with a jest in this book — W' ould he defy his 
 brother in the flesh, he shall be accommodated with a 
 challenge — Would you be drunk, Shakspeare will cheer 
 you with a cup — Would you plunge in sensual pleasures, 
 he will soothe you to indulgence, as with the lascivious 
 sounds of a lute. This, I say, this book is the well-head 
 and source of all those evils which have overrun the land 
 hke a torrent, making men scoffers, doubters, deniers, 
 murderers, makebates, and lovers of the wine-pot, haunt- 
 ing unclean places, and sitting long at the evening-wine. 
 Away with him, away with him, men of England ! to 
 Topliet with his wicked book, and to the Vale of Hin- 
 nonQ with his accursed bones ! Verily but that our march
 
 ^^ WOODSTOCK. 
 
 was hasty when we passed Stratford, In the year 1643, 
 with Sir VViihani Waller ; but that our march was hasty — " 
 
 " Because Prince Rupert was after you with his 
 cavaliers," muttered the incorrigible Joceline. 
 
 " I say," continued the zealous trooper, raising his 
 voice and extending his arm — " but that our march was 
 by command hasty, and that we turned not aside in our 
 riding, closing our ranks each one upon the other as be- 
 comes men ol war, 1 had torn on that day the bones of 
 that preceptor of vice and debauchery from the grave, 
 and given them to the next dunghill. 1 would have made 
 his memory a scoff and a hissing !" 
 
 " That is the bitterest thing he has said yet," observed 
 the keeper. " Poor Will would have liked the hissing 
 worse than all the rest." 
 
 " Will the gentleman say any more .^" inquired Phoebe 
 in a whisper. " Laek-a-day, he talks brave words, if 
 one knew but what they meant. But it is a mercy our 
 good Knight did not see him ruffle the book at that rate 
 — Mercy on us, there would certainly have been blood- 
 shed. — But oh the father — see how he is twisting his face 
 about ! — Is he ill of the colic, think'st thou, Joceline I 
 Or, m*ay 1 offer him a glass of strong waters .^" 
 
 " H.irk thee hither, wench!" said ihe keeper, "he 
 is but loading his blunderbuss for another volley ; and 
 while he turns up his eyes, and twists about his face, and 
 clenches his fist, and shuffles and tramples with his feet in 
 that fashion, he is bound to take no notice of any thing. 
 I would be sworn to cut his purse, if he had one, from 
 his side, without his feelin": it." 
 
 " La ! Joceline." said Phoebe, " and if he abides here 
 in this turn of times, I dare say the gentleman will be 
 easily served." 
 
 "Care not thou about that," said Joliffe ; "but tell 
 me softly and hastily, what is in the pantry V^ 
 
 " Small house-keeping eiio igh," said Phoebe, " a cold 
 capon and some comfits, and the great standing venison 
 pasty, with plenty of spice — a manchet or two besides, 
 and that is all."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 53 
 
 " Well, it will serve for a pinch — wrap thy cloak round 
 thy comely body — get a basket and a brace of trenchers 
 and towels, they are heinously impoverished down yon- 
 der — carry down the capon and the manchets — the pasty 
 must abide with this same soldier and nne, and the pie- 
 crust will serve us for bread." 
 
 " Rarely," said Phoebe ; *' I made the paste myself 
 — it is as thick as the walls of Fair Rosamond's Tower." 
 
 " Which two pair of jaws would be long in gnawing 
 through, work hard as they might," said the keeper. 
 " But what liquor is there f" 
 
 " Only a bottle of Alicant, and one of sack, with the 
 stone jug of strong waters," answered Phcebe. 
 
 " Put the wine-flasks into thy basket," said Joceline, 
 *' the Knight must not lack his evening draught — and 
 down with thee to the hut like a lapwing. There is 
 enough for supper, and to-morrow is a new day. Ha ! 
 by heaven I thought yonder man's eye watched us — No 
 — he only rolled it round him in a brown study — Deep 
 enough doubtless as they all are. But d — n him, he 
 must be bottomless if 1 cannot sound him before the 
 night's out. Hie thee away, Phoebe." 
 
 But Phoebe was a rural coquette, and, aware that 
 Joceline's situation gave him no advantage of avenging 
 the challenge In a fitting way, she whispered in his ear, 
 *' Do you think our Knight's friend, Shakspeare, really 
 found out all these naughty devices the gentleman spoke 
 
 Off she darted while she spoke, while Joliffe menaced 
 future ven2;eance with his finger, as he muttered, " Go 
 thy way, Phoebe Mayflower, the lightest-footed and light- 
 est-hearted wench that ever tripped the sod in Woodstock- 
 park ! — After her, Bevis, and bring her safe to our master 
 at the hut." 
 
 The large greyhound arose like a human servitor 
 who had received an order, and followed Phoebe through 
 the hall, first licking her hand to niake her sensible of 
 his presence, and then putting himself to a slow trot, so 
 
 5* VOL, I.
 
 54 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 as best to accomtnodate himself to the light pace of her 
 whom he convoyed, whom Jocehne had not extolled for 
 her activity without due reason. While Phoebe and her 
 guardian thread the forest glades, we return to the lodge. 
 
 The Independent now seemed to start as if from a 
 reverie. " Is the young woman gone ?" said he. 
 
 " Ay, marry is she," said the keeper ; " and if your 
 worship hath farther commands, you must rest contented 
 with male attendance." 
 
 *' Commands — umph — T think the damsel might have 
 tarried for another exhortation," said the soldier — " truly, 
 1 profess my mind was much inclined toward her for her 
 edification." 
 
 " Oh, sir," replied JolifFe, " she will be at church 
 next Sunday, and if your military reverence is pleased 
 again to hold forth among us, she will have use of the 
 doctrine with the rest. But young maidens of these 
 parts hear no private homilies. And what is now your 
 pleasure ^ Will you look at the other rooms, and at the 
 lew plate articles u'hich have been left f" 
 
 " Umph — no," said the Independent — " it wears late, 
 and gets dark — thou hast the means of giving us beds, 
 friend ?" 
 
 " Better you never slept in," replied the keeper. 
 
 ** And wood for a fire, and a light, and some small 
 pittance of creature-comforts for refreshment of the out- 
 ward man ?" continued the soldier. 
 
 " Without doubt," replied the keeper, displaying a 
 prudent anxiety to gratify this important personage. 
 
 In a few minutes a great standing candlestick was 
 placed on an oaken table. The mighty venison pasty, 
 adorned wilh parsley, was placed on the board on a clean 
 napkin ; the stone-bottle of strong waters, with a black- 
 jack full of ale, formed Comfortable appendages ; and to 
 this meal sat down in social manner the soldier occupy- 
 ing a great elbow chair, and the keeper, at his invitation 
 using the more lowly accommodation of a stool, at the 
 opposite side of the table. Thus agreeably employed 
 our history leaves them for the present.
 
 WOODSTOCK. o5 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 -'• Yon path of greensward 
 
 Winds round by sparry grot and gay pavilion ; 
 There is no fliut to gall tby lender foot, 
 There's ready shelter from each breeze, or shower. — 
 But Duly guiiies not thai way — see her stand, 
 With wand entwined with amaranth, near yon cliffs. 
 Oft where she leads thy blood must mark thy footsteps, 
 Oft where she loads thy head must bear the storm, 
 And thy shrunk form endure heat, cold, and hunger ; 
 But she will guide thee up to noble heights, 
 Which he who gains seems native of the sky. 
 While earthly things liestretch'd beneath his feet, 
 Diminish 'd, shrunk, and valueless. Anomjmous. 
 
 The reader cannot have forgotten that after his souffle 
 with the commonwealih soldier, Sir Henry Lee, with his 
 daughter Alice, had departed to take refuge in the hut 
 of the stout keeper JocelineJoliffe. They walked slow, 
 as before, for the old Knight was at once oppressed by 
 perceiving these last vestiges of royally fall into the hands 
 of republicans, and by the recollection of his recent de- 
 feat. A^ times he paused, and with his arms folded on 
 his bosom, recalled all the circumstances attending his 
 expulsion from a house so long his home. It seemed to 
 him that, like the champions of romance of whom he had 
 sometimes read, he himself was retiring from the post 
 which it was his duty to guard, defeated by a Paynim 
 Knight, for whom the adventure had been reserved by 
 Fate. Alice had her own painful subjects of recollection, 
 nor had the tenor of her last conversation with her father 
 been so pleasant as to make her anxious to renew it 
 until his temper should be more composed ; for, with an 
 excellent disposition, and much love to his daughter, age 
 and misfortunes, which of Inte came thicker and thicker, 
 had given to the good Knight's passions a wayward ir-
 
 56 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ritability which was unknown to his belter days. His 
 daughter, and one or two attached servants, who still fol- 
 lowed his decayed fortunes, soothed his frailty as much 
 as possible, and pitied him even while they suffered under 
 its effects. 
 
 It was a long time ere he spoke, and then he referred 
 to an incident already noticed. " It is strange." he said, 
 *' that Bevis should have followed Joceline and that fel- 
 low rather than me." 
 
 " Assure yourself, sir," replied Alice, " that his sa- 
 gacity saw in this man a stranger, whom he thought him- 
 self obliged to watch circumspectly, and therefore he 
 remained with Joceline." 
 
 " Not so, Alice," answered Sir Henry ; *' he leaves 
 me because my fortunes have fled from me. There is a 
 feeling in nature, affecting even the instinct, as it is call- 
 ed, of dumb animals, which teaches them to fly from 
 misfortune. The very deer there will butt a sick or 
 wounded buck from the herd ; hurt a dog, and the wliole 
 kennel will fall on him and worry him ; fishes devour 
 their own kind when they are wounded with a spear ; cut 
 a crov.''s wing, or break his leg, the others will buffet it 
 to death." 
 
 " That may be true of the more irrational kinds of 
 animals among each otljer," said Alice, " for their whole 
 life is well nigh a v/a/fare ; but the dog leaves his own 
 race to attach himself to ours ; forsakes, for his master, 
 the company, food, and pleasure of his own kind ; and 
 surely the fidefity of such a devoted and voluntary ser- 
 vant as Bevis halh been in particular, ought not to be 
 lightly suspected." 
 
 " I am not angry at the dog, Alice ; I am only sorry," 
 replied her father. " I have read, in faithful chronicles, 
 that when Richard II. and Henry of Bolingbroke were 
 at Berkeley Castle, a dog of the same kind deserted the 
 King, whom he had always attended upon, and attached 
 himself to Henry, whom he then saw for tlie first time. 
 Richard foretold, from the desertion of his favourite, his 
 approaching deposition. The dog was afterwards kept
 
 WOODSTOCK. 57 
 
 at Woodstock, and Bevis is said to be of his breed, 
 which was heedluily ke[)t up. What 1 might foretell of 
 mischief from his desertion, I cannot guess, but my mind 
 assures me it bodes no good." 
 
 There was a distant rusthng among the withered leaves, 
 a bouncing or galloping sound on the path, and the fa- 
 vourite dog instantly joined his master. 
 
 " Come into court, old knave," said Alice cheerfully, 
 '* and defend thy character, which is well nigh endanger- 
 ed by this absence," but the dog only paid her courtesy 
 by gambolling around them, and instantly plunged back 
 again, as fast as he could scamper. 
 
 " How now, knave ?" said the Knight ; " thou art 
 too well trained, surely, to lake up the chase without or- 
 ders." A minute more showed them Phoebe Mayflower 
 approaching, her light pace so little impeded by the bur- 
 then whicli she bore, that she joined her master and young 
 mistress just as they arrived at the keeper's hut, which 
 was the boundary of their journey. Bevis, who had shot 
 a-head to pay his compliments to Sir Henry his master, 
 had returned again to his immediate duty, the escorting 
 Phoebe and her cargo of provisions. The whole party 
 stood presently assembled before the door of the keeper's 
 hut. 
 
 In better times, a substantial stone habitation, fit for the 
 yeoman-keeper of a royal walk, had adorned this place. 
 A fair spring gushed out near the spot, and once traver- 
 sed yards and courts, attached to well-built and conven- 
 ient kennels and mews. But in some of the skirmishes 
 which were common through the whole country during 
 the civil wars, this little sylvan dwelling had been attack- 
 ed and defended, stormed and burnt. A neighbouring 
 squire of the parliamentarian side of the question, took 
 advantage of Sir Plenry Lee's absence, who was in 
 Charles's camp, and of the decay of the royal cause, 
 and had, without scruple, carried off the hewn stones, and 
 such building materials as the fire left unconsumed, and 
 repaired his own manor-house with them. The yeo- 
 man-keeper, therefore, our friend Joceline, had construct-
 
 58 M'OOD STOCK. 
 
 ed for his own accommcniation, and that of the old woman 
 lie called his dame, a wattled hut, such as his own labour, 
 with that of a neighbour or two, had erected in the 
 course of a few days. The walls were plastered with 
 clay, white-washefH and covered with vines and other 
 creeping plants ; the roof was neatly thatched, and the 
 whole, though merely a hut, had, by the neat-handed 
 Joliffe, been so arranged as not to disgrace the condition 
 of the dweller. 
 
 The Knight advanced to the entrance ; but the inge- 
 nuity of the architect, for want of better lock to the 
 door, which itself was but of wattles curiously twisted, 
 had contrived a mode of securing the latch on the inside 
 with a pin, which prevented it from rising ; and in this 
 manner it was at present fastened. Conceiving that this 
 was some precaution of JolifFe's old house-keeper, of 
 whose deafness they were all av^^are. Sir Henry raised his 
 voice to demand admittance, but in vain. Irritated at 
 this delay, he pressed the door at once with foot and hand, 
 in a way which the frail barrier was unable to resist ; it 
 gave way accordingly, and the Knight thus forcibly en- 
 tered the kitchen, or outward apartment, of his servant. 
 In the midst of the floor, and with a posture which indi- 
 cated embarrassment, stood a youthful stranger, in a 
 riding-suit. 
 
 " This n)ay be my last act of authority here," said the 
 Knight, seizing the stranger by the collar, " but I am still 
 Ranger of Woodstock for this night at least — Who, or 
 what art thou ?" 
 
 The stranger dropped the riding-mantle in which his 
 face was muffled, and at the same time fell on one knee. 
 
 " Your poor kinsman, Markham Everard," he said, 
 ** who came hither for your sake, although he fears you 
 will scarce make him welcome for his own." 
 
 Sir Henry started back, but recovered himself in an 
 instant, as one who recollected that he had a part of dig- 
 nity to perform. He stood erect, therefore, and replied, 
 with considerable assumption of stately ceremony :
 
 WOODSTOCK. 59 
 
 " Fair kinsman, it pleases me that you are come to 
 Woodstock upon the very first night that, lor many years 
 which have past, is hkely to promise you a worthy or a 
 welcome reception." 
 
 " Now God grant it be so, that I rightly hear and duly 
 understand you," said tiie young man ; while Alice, 
 though she was silent, kept her looks fixed on her father's 
 face, as if desirous to know whether his meaning was 
 kind towards his nephew, which her knowledge of his 
 character inclined her greatly to doubt. 
 
 The Knight meanwhile darted a sardonic look, first on 
 his neplievv, then on his daughter, and proceeded — " I 
 need not, I presume, inform Mr. IMarkham Everard that 
 it cannot be our purpose to entertain him, or even to offer 
 him a seat in this poor-hut." 
 
 " 1 will attend you most w^illingly to the Lodge," said 
 the young gentleman. " I had, indeed, judged you were 
 already there for the evening, and feared to intrude upon 
 you. But if you would permit me, my dearest uncle, to 
 escort my kinswoman and you back to the Lodge, believe 
 me, amongst all which you have so often done of good 
 and kind, you never conferred benefit that will be so 
 dearly prized." 
 
 " You mistake me greatly, Mr. Markham Everard," 
 replied the Knight. " It is not our purpose to return to 
 the Lodge to-night, nor, by Our Lady, to-morrow neither. 
 I meant but to intimate to you, in all courtesy, that at 
 Woodstock Lodge you will find those for whom you are a 
 fitting society, and who, doubtless, will afford you a willing 
 w^elcome ; which 1, sir, in this my present retreat, do not 
 presume to offer to a person of your consequence." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," said the young man, turning to 
 Alice, " tell me how 1 am to understand language so 
 mysterious." 
 
 Alice, to prevent his increasing the restrained anger of 
 her father, compelled herself to answer, thouah it was 
 with difficulty, " We are expelled from the Lodge by 
 soldiers." ^
 
 60 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Expelled — by soldiers !" exclaimed Everard, in 
 surprise — " there is no legal warrant for this." 
 
 " None at all," answered the Knight, in the same tone 
 of cutting irony which he had all along used, " and yet 
 as lawful a warrant, as for aught that has been wrought 
 in England this twelvemonth and more. You are, I think, 
 or were, an Inns-of-Court man — marry, sir, your enjoy- 
 ment of your profession is like that lease which a prodigal 
 wishes to have of a wealthy widow. You have already 
 survived the law which you studied, and its expiry doubt- 
 less has not been without a legacy — some decent pick- 
 ings, some merciful increases, as the phrase goes. You 
 have deserved it two ways — you wore buff and banda- 
 lier, as well as w^ielded pen and ink — I have not heard 
 if you held forth too." 
 
 *' Think of me and speak of me as harshly as you 
 will, sir," said Everard, submissively, " I have but, in 
 this evil time, guided myself by my conscience, and my 
 father's commands." 
 
 " O, an you talk of conscience," said ihe old Knight, 
 " I must have mine eye upon you, as Hamlet says. 
 Never yet did Puritan cheat so grossly as when he was 
 appealing to his conscience ; and as for iUy father " 
 
 He was about to proceed in a tone of the same invec- 
 tive, when the young man interrupted him, by saying, in 
 a firm tone, " Sir Henry Lee, you have ever been thought 
 noble — Say of me what you will, but speak not of my fath- 
 er what the ear of a son should not endure, and which yet 
 his arm cannot resent. To do me such wrong is to insult 
 an unarmed man, or to beat a captive." 
 
 Sir Henry paused, as if struck by the remark. '* Thou 
 hast spoken truth in that, Mark, wert thou the blackest 
 Puritan whom hell ever vomited, to distract an unhappy 
 country." 
 
 " Be that as you will to think it," replied Everard ; 
 " but let me not leave you to the shelter of this wretched 
 hovel. ^ The night is drawing to storm — let me but con- 
 duct you to the Lodge, and expel these intruders, who 
 can as yet at least have no warrant for what they do. I
 
 WOODSTOCK. <5l 
 
 will not linger a moment behind them, save just to tiellver 
 my Auher's message. — Giant me but this much Ibr tlie 
 love }'ou once bore me !" 
 
 " Yes, i\Iark," ansuered his uncle, firmly, but sorrow- 
 fully, *' thou speakest truth — 1 did love thee once. The 
 bright-haired boy vvhjm I taught to ride, to shoot, to 
 hunt — whose hours of happiness were spent witii me 
 wherever those of giaver labours weie employed — 1 did 
 love that boy — ay, and 1 am weak enough to love even 
 the memory of what he was. — But he is gone, Maik — 
 he is gone ; and in his room 1 only behold an avoued 
 and determined rebel to his religion and to his kii^ii: — a 
 rebel more detestable on account of his success, the 
 more infamous through the phmdered wealth with which 
 he hopes to gild his villany. — But I am poor, thou think'st, 
 and should hold my peace, lest men say, ' Speak, sinah, 
 when you should.' Know, hovrever, that indigeiM and 
 pluiidered as I am, I feel myself dishonoured in lioldiu'g 
 even but this m.ucli talk with the tool of usurping rebels. 
 — Go to the Lodge, if thou wilt — yonder lies the way — 
 but think not that to regain rr.y dwelling there, or all ihe 
 wealth I ever possessed in my wealthiest days, ] would 
 willingly accompany thee three steps on tlie gjcenswnrd. 
 If I must be thy companion, it shall be only when thy 
 red-coats have tied m} hands behind me, and Immd my 
 legs beneath my horse's belly. Thou may'st be nty ftl- 
 low-traveller then, 1 grant thee, if thou wilt, but i:ot 
 sooner." 
 
 Alice, who suffered cruelly during this dialos'ue, and 
 was well aware that farther argimient would only kindle 
 the Knight's resentment still more highly, ventured at 
 last, in her anxiety, to make a sign to her cousin to bi eak 
 off the interview, and to retire, since her father com- 
 manded his absence in a manner so peremptory. Un- 
 happily she was observed by Sir Heniy, who, concluding 
 that what he saw was evidence of a private understand- 
 ing betwixt the cousins, his wrath ncqiiired new i'ue]^ and 
 It required the utmost exertion of sell'-command, and 
 
 6 VOL. I.
 
 ^>^ WOUDPJTOCX. 
 
 recollection of all lliat was due to bis own dignity, to 
 enable him to veil his real fury under the same ironical 
 manner vvhich he had adojjted at the beginning of this 
 angry interview. 
 
 " If thou art afraid," he said, " to trace our forest- 
 glades by night, respected stranger, to whom 1 am perhaps 
 bound to do honoin- as my successor in the chaige of 
 these walks, here seems to be a modest damsel, who will 
 be m )st willing to wait on thee, and be thy bow-bearer 
 — O ily for her mother's sake, let there pass some slight 
 form of marriage between you — Ye need no license or 
 priest in these happy days, but may be buckled like 
 beggars in a ditch, with a hedge for a church roof, and 
 a tinker for a priest. I crave pardon of you for making 
 such an officious and simple reqnest — perhaps you area 
 R inter — or one of the family of Love, or hold marriage 
 rites as unnecessarv, as Knipperdoling, or Jack of 
 Leyden." 
 
 " For mercy's sake, forbear such dreadful jesting, my 
 father; and do you, Markham, begone, in God's name, 
 and leave us to our fate — Your presence makes my fa- 
 ther rave." 
 
 " Jesting !" said Sir Henry, " T was never more se- 
 rio'is — Raving ! — 1 was never more composed. 1 could 
 never brook that falseliood should approach me — I would 
 no more bear by my side a dishonoured daughter than a 
 dishonoured sword ; and this unhappy day hath shown 
 that both can f<iil." 
 
 " Sir Henry," said young Everard, " load not your 
 soul with a heavy crime, which be assured you do, in 
 treating your daughter thus unjustly. It is long now 
 since you denied her to me, when we were poor and you 
 v/ere powerftd. I acquiesced in yoqr prohibition of all 
 suit and intercourse. God knoweth what 1 suffered — 
 but I acquiesced. Neither is it to renew my suit that I 
 now come hither, and have, T do acknowledge, sought 
 speech of her — not for her own sake only, but for yours 
 also. Destruction hovers over you, ready to close her 
 pinions to stoop, and her talons to clutch — Yes, sir, look
 
 contemptuous as you will, such is the case ; and it is to 
 protect bolli you and her that J am here." 
 
 *' You refuse then iDy free gift," said Sir Henry Lee ; 
 " or perhaps you think it loaded with loo hard condi- 
 tions f" 
 
 " Shame, shame on you, Sir Henry !" said Everard, 
 waxing warm in his turn ; " have your political preju- 
 dices so utterly warped every feehng of a father, thai 
 you can speak with bitter mockery and scorn of what 
 concerns your own daughter's honour f — Hold up your 
 head, fair Alice, and tell your father he has forgolien 
 nature in his fantastic spirit of loyalty. — Know, Sir Hen- 
 ry, that though 1 would prefer your daughter's hand to 
 every blessing which Heaven could bestow on me, I 
 would not accept it — my conscience would not permit 
 me to do so — when 1 knew it must withdraw her from 
 her duty to you." 
 
 " Your conscience is over scrupulous, young man ; 
 carry it to some dissenting rabbi, and he, who takes all 
 that comes to net, will teach thee it is sinning against 
 our mercies to refuse any good thing that is freely offer- 
 ed to us." 
 
 " When it is freely offered, and kindly offered — not 
 when the offer is made in irony and insult. — Fare thee 
 well, Alice — if aught could make me desire to profit by 
 thy father's wild wish to cast thee from him in a moment 
 of unworthy suspicion, it would be that while indulging 
 in such sentiments, Sir Henry Lee is tyrannically op- 
 pressing the creature, who of all others is most dependent 
 on his kindness — who of all others will most feel his 
 severity — and whom, of all others, he is most bound to 
 cherish and support." 
 
 "Do not fear forme, Mr. Everard," exclaimed Alice, 
 aroused from her timidity by a dread of the consequences 
 not unlikely to ensue, where civil war set relations, a^- 
 well as fellow citizens, in opposition to each other. — 
 ** Oh, begone, 1 conjure you begone ^ Nothing stands 
 betwixt me and my fatlier's kindness, but these unhappy
 
 64 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 family dlv'sions — but your ill timed presence here — For 
 heaven's sake leave us !" 
 
 " Sol), n)istress I" answered the hot old cavalier ; 
 "you play lady paramount already ; and who but you ! 
 — you would dictate to our train, 1 warrant, hke Goneril 
 and Regan. But 1 tell thee, no man shall leave my 
 house — and, humble as it is, this is now my house — while 
 he has aught to say to me that is to be spoken, as this 
 young man now speaks, with a bent brow and a lohy tone. 
 — Speak out, sir, and say your worst !" 
 
 " Fear not my temper, JMrs. Alice," said Everard, 
 with equal firmness and placidity of manner ; " and you, 
 Sir Henry, do not think if I sj^eak firndy, I niean there- 
 fore to speak in anger, or officiously. You have taxed 
 me with much, and, were I guided by the wild spirit of 
 romantic chivalry, much which, even from so near a 
 relative, I ought not, as being by birth, and in the world's 
 estimation, a gentleman, to pass over without reply. Is 
 it your pleasure to give me patient hearmg ?" 
 
 "if you stand on your defence,'' answ^ered the stout 
 old Knight, " God forbid that you should not challenge 
 a patient hearing — ay, though your pleading were two 
 pa]'ts disloyalty and one blasphemy — Only, be brief — this 
 has already lasted but too long." 
 
 " \ will. Sir Henry," replied the young man ; " yet it 
 is hard to crowd inio a few sentences, the defence of 
 a life which, though short, has been a busy one — too 
 busy, your indignant gesture would assert. But I deny 
 it ; 1 have drawn my sword neither hastily, nor without 
 due consideration, for a people whose rights have been 
 trampled on, and whose consciences have been oppressed. 
 — Fiown not, sir — such is not your view of the contest, 
 but such is mine : For my religious principles, at which 
 you have scoffed, believe me, that though they depend 
 not on set forms, they are no less sincere than your own, 
 and thus far purer — excuse the word — that they are 
 unmingled with the blood-thirsty dictates of a barbarous 
 age, which you and others have called the code of chiv- 
 alrous honour. Not mv own natural disposition, but the
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 65 
 
 better doctrine which my creed has taught, enables me 
 to bear your harsh revilings without ansvveiing in a similar 
 tone of wrath and reproach. You may carry insult to 
 extremity against me at your pleasure — not on account 
 of our relationship alone, but because 1 am bound in 
 charity to endure it. This, Sir Henry, is much from 
 one of our house. But, with forbearance far more than 
 this requires, 1 can refuse at }-our hands the gift, which, 
 most of all things under Heaven, 1 should desire to obtain, 
 because duty calls upon her to sustain and comfort you, 
 and because it were sin to permit you, in your blindness, 
 to spurn your comforter from your side. — Farewell, sir 
 — not in anger but in pity — We may meet in a belter 
 time, when your heart and your principles shall master 
 the unhappy prejudices by which they are now over- 
 clouded. — Farewell — farewell, Alice !" 
 
 The last woids were repealed twice, and in a tone of 
 feeling and passionate grief, which differed utterly from 
 the steady and almost severe tone in which lie had ad- 
 dressed Sir Henry Lee. He turned and left the hut so » 
 soon as he had uttered these last words ; and as if asham- 
 ed of the tenderness which had mingled with his accents, 
 the young commonwealth's man turned and walked stern- 
 ly and resolvedly forth into the moonlight, which now 
 was spreadins; its broad light and autumnal shadows over 
 the woodland. 
 
 So soon as he was departed, Alice, who had been dur- 
 ing the whole scene in tlie utmost terror ihal her father 
 might have been hurried, by his natural heat of temper, 
 from violence of language into violence of action, sunk 
 down upon a settle twisted out of willow-boughs, like 
 most of Joceline's few moveables, and endeavoured to 
 fonceal the tears which accompanied liie tlianks she 
 rendered in broken accents to Heaven, thifl, no'.wilh.^iand- 
 ing the near alliance and relationship ol the parties, some 
 fatal deed had not closed an interview so perilous and so 
 angry. l*ln.ehe Mayflower blubbered heartily lo; com- 
 pany, thoni!;li she understood but Huie of what had pas* 
 
 G* VOL I.
 
 66 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 sed ; just, indeed, enough to enable her afterwards to 
 report to some hah"-dozen particular friends, that her 
 old master, Sir Henry, had been perilous angry, and 
 almost fought with young Master Everard, because he 
 had well nigh carried away her young mistress. — " And 
 what could he have done better r" said Phoebe, " seeing 
 the old man had nothing left either for Mrs. Alice or 
 himself ; and as for Mr. Mark Everard, and our young 
 lady, oh, they had spoken such loving things to each 
 other, as are not to be found in the history of Argala.s 
 and Parthenia, who, as the story book tells, were the 
 truest pair of lovers in all Arcadia, and Oxfordshire to 
 boot." 
 
 Old Goody Jellycot had po))ped her scarlet liood into 
 the kitchen more than once while the scene was pro- 
 ceeding ; but, as the worthy dame was parcel blind, and 
 more tlian parcel deaf, knowledge was excluded by two 
 principal entrances ; and though she comprehended, by 
 a sort of general instiiict, that the gentle-folks were at 
 • high words, yet why they chose Joceline's hut for the 
 scene of their disi)ute, was as great a mystery as the 
 subject of the quarrel. 
 
 iJut what was the state of the old cavalier's mood, 
 thus contradicted, us his most darling principles had 
 been, by the last words of his departed nephew ? The 
 truth is, that he was less thoroughly moved than his 
 daughter expected ; and in all probability his nephew's 
 bol(I defence of his religious and ])olitica! oj)inions rather 
 pacified than aggravated his displeasure. Although suf- 
 ficiently impatient of contradiction, still evasion and sub- 
 terfuge were more alien to the blunt old Ranger's nature 
 than inanly vindication and direct opposition ; and he was 
 wont to say, that he ever loved the buck best who stood 
 boldest at bay. He graced his nephew's departure, 
 however, with a quotation from Shakspeare, whom, as 
 many others do, lie was wont to quote from a sort of 
 habit and respect to him, as a favourite of his unfortunate 
 master, without having either much real taste for big
 
 WOODSTOCK- 
 
 67 
 
 works, or great skill in applying the passages which he 
 retained on his memory. 
 
 " Mark," he said, " mark this, Alice — the devil can 
 quote scripture for his purpose. Why, this young fanatic 
 cousin of thine, witii no more beard than 1 have seen on 
 a clown playing Maid Marion on May-day, when the vil- 
 lage barber had shaved him in too great a hurry, shall 
 match any bearded Presbyterian or Independent of them 
 all, in laying down his doctrines and his uses, and be- 
 thumping us with his text and his homilies. 1 would wor- 
 thy and learned Doctor RocheclifTe had been here, with 
 his battery ready-mounted from the Vulgate, and the 
 Septuagint, and what not — he would have battered the 
 Presbyterian spirit out of him wiihawanion. However, 
 1 am glad the young man is no sneaker ; for, were a man 
 of the devil's opinion in religion, and of Old Noll's in 
 politics, he were better open on it full cry, than deceive 
 you by hunting counter, or running a false scent. Come 
 — wipe thine eyes — the fray is over, and not hke to be 
 stirred again soon, 1 trust." 
 
 Encouraged by these words, Alice rose, ;md, bewilder- 
 ed as she was, endeavoured to superintend the arrange- 
 ments for their meal and their repose in their new habi- 
 tation. But her tears fell so fast, they marred her coun- 
 terfeited diligence ; and it was well lor her that Phoebe, 
 though loo ignorant and too simple to comprehend the 
 extent of her distress, could alibrd her material assistance, 
 in lack of mere sympathy. 
 
 With great readiness and address, the damsel set about 
 every thing that was requisite for preparing the supper 
 and the beds ; now screaming into Dame Jellycot's ear, 
 now whispering into her mistress's, and arlfiiily managing, 
 as if she was merely the agent, under Alice's orders. 
 When the cold nieat was set forth. Sir Heni-y Lee kindly 
 pressed his daughter to take refreshment, as if to make 
 up, indirectly, for his previous harshness towards her ; 
 while he himself, like an experienced campaigner, show- 
 ed, that neither the mortifications nor brawls of the day, 
 nor the thoughts of what was to come lo-morrow, couid
 
 68 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 diminish his appetite for supper, which was his favourite 
 meal. He eat up two-thirds of the capon, and, devoting 
 the first bumper to the happy restoration of Charles, 
 second of the name, he finished a quart of wine ; for he 
 belonged to a school accustomed to feed the Hame of 
 their loyalty with copious brimmers. He even sang a 
 verse of ' Tiie King shall enjoy his own again,' in which 
 Phcfibe, half sobbing, ,and Dame Jellycot, screaming 
 against time and tune, were contented to lend their aid, 
 to cover Mistress Alice's silence. 
 
 At length the jovial Knight betook himseff to his rest, 
 on the keeper's straw pallet, in a recess adjoining to the 
 kitchen, and, unaiTected by his change of dwelling, slept 
 fast and deep. Alice had less quiet rest in old Goody 
 Jellycot's wicker couch, in the inner apartment ; while 
 the dame and Phcebe slept on a mattress, stuffed With 
 dry leaves, in the same chamber, soundly as those whose 
 daily toil gains tiieir daily bread, and whom morning 
 calls up only to renew the toils of yesterday. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 My tong^ue pafls slowly under this new lansr»a»e. 
 And starts and s'-uinlilps at these uncouth phrases. 
 They may be great ii! worth and \^ei^hi, hut liang 
 Ifjioii the native g'ihiiess of my lanjrnas^e 
 Like Saul's plate-armour on the shepherd boy, 
 
 Lncuiuberln";- and not armine; him. 
 
 J. B. 
 
 As Markham Evernrd pursued his way townrds the 
 Lodge, throu2;h one of the long sweeping'; glades which 
 traversed the firest, varying in bi'eadtii, till the trees were 
 now so close that the boughs made darkness over their 
 heads, then receding farther to let in glimpses of the 
 moon, and anon opening yet wider into little meadows,
 
 WOODSTOCK. 69 
 
 or savannahs, on which the moonheams lay in silvery 
 silence ; as lie thus pioceederl on his lonely course, the 
 various effects produced by that delicious light on the 
 oaks, whose dark leaves, gnarled branches, and massive 
 trunks it gilded, more or less partially, might have drawn 
 the attention of a poet or a painter. 
 
 But if Everard thought of anything saving the painful 
 scene in which he had just played his part, ai.d ot which 
 the result seemed th.e destruction of all his hopes, it was 
 of the necessary guard to he observed in his night-walk. 
 The times were dangerous and unseltled ; the roads full 
 of disbanded soldiers, and especially of royalists, who 
 made their political opinions a pretext for disturbing the 
 country with marauding parties and robberies. Ueer- 
 stealers also, who are ever a desperate banditti, bad of 
 late infested Woodstock Chase. In short, the dangers 
 of the place and period were such, that Maikliam Everard 
 wore his loaded pistols at his belt, and cairitd his drawn 
 sword under his arm, that he might be prepared for what- 
 ever peril should cross his path. 
 
 He heard the bells of Woodstock Church ring curfew, 
 just as he was crossing one of the little meadows we have 
 descrii)ed, and they ceased as he entered an ovei shadow- 
 ed and twilight part of the path beyond. It was there 
 that he heard someone whistling ; and, as the sound be- 
 came clearer, it was plain the person was advancing to- 
 w^ards him. This could hardly be a friend ; for the 
 party to which he belonged rejected, generally speaking, 
 all music, unless psalmody. ' If a man is merry, let him 
 sing psalms,' was a text which they were pleased to in- 
 terpret as literally as they did some others ; yet it was too 
 continued a sound to be a signal amongst night-walkers, 
 and loo light and cheerful to argue any purpose of con- 
 cealment on the part of the traveller, who presently ex- 
 changed his whistling for singing, and trolled forth the 
 following stanza to a jolly tune, with whicli the old 
 cavaliers were wont to wake the night-owl :
 
 70 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Hey for cavaliers ! Ho for cavaliers ! 
 Pray for cavaliers ! 
 Rub a dub— rub a dub ! 
 Have at old Beelzebub — 
 Oliver smokes for fear. 
 
 " 1 should know that voice," said Everard, uncocking 
 the pistol which he had drawn from his belt, but contin- 
 uing to hold it in his hand. Then came another frag- 
 ment : 
 
 Hash them — slash them — 
 All lo pieces dash them. 
 
 ** So ho !" cried Markham, " who goes there, and for 
 whom ?" 
 
 " For Church and King," answered a voice, which 
 presently added, " No, d — n me — 1 mean against 
 Church and King, and for the people that are uppermost 
 — 1 forget which they are." 
 
 " Roger Wild rake, as I guess f" said Everard. 
 
 ** The same — Gentleman of Squattlesea-mere, in the 
 moist county of Lincoln." 
 
 " Wildrake!" said Markham — " Wildgooseyou should 
 be called. You have been moistening your own throat 
 to some purpose, and using it to gabble tunes very suiting 
 to the times, to be sure !" 
 
 " Faith, the tune's a pretty tune enough, Mark, only 
 out of fiishion a little — the more's the pity." 
 
 *• What could I expect," said Everard, " but to meet 
 some ranting, drunken cavalier, as desperate and dan- 
 gerous as night and sack usually make them ? What if 
 I had rewarded your melody by a ball in the gullet .''" 
 
 " Why, there would have been a piper paid — that's 
 all," said Wildrake. — " But wherefore come you this 
 way now ? — I was about to seek you at the hut." 
 
 " I have been obliged to leave it — I will tell you the 
 cause hereafter," replied Markham. 
 
 " What ! the old play-hunting cavalier was cross, or 
 Chloe was unkind .^" 
 
 " Jest not, Wildrake — it is all over with me," said 
 Everard.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 71 
 
 ♦ The devil it is," exclaimed Wildrake, " and you 
 take it thus quietly ! — Zounds ! let us back together — I'll 
 plead your cause for you — 1 know how to tickle up an 
 old Knight and a pretty maiden — Let me alone for put- 
 ting you rectus in curia, you canting rogue. — D — n me, 
 Sir Henry Lee, says 1, your nephew is a piece ol' a Puri- 
 tan — it won't deny — but I'll upliold him a genileman and 
 a pretty fellow for all that. — Madam, says 1, you may 
 think your cousin looks like a psalm-singing weaver, in 
 that hare felt, and with that rascally brown cloak ; that 
 band, which looks like a baby's clout, and those loose 
 boots, which have a whole calf-skin in each of iljem, — 
 but let him wear on the one side of his head a castor, 
 with a plume befitting his quality ; give him a good Tol- 
 edo by his side, with a broidered belt and an inlaid hilt, 
 instead of the ton of iron contained in that basket-hilted, 
 black Andrew Ferrara ; put a few smart words in his 
 mouth — and, blood and wounds! madam, says 1 " 
 
 " Prithee, truce with this nonsense, Wildrake," said 
 Everard, " and tell me if you are sober enough to hear 
 a few words of sober reason f" 
 
 " Pshaw ! man, 1 did but crack a brace of quarts with 
 yonder puritanic, round-headed soldiers, up yonder at 
 the town ; and rat me but I passed myself for the best 
 man of the party ; twanged my nose, and turned up my 
 eyes, as I took my can — Pah ! the very wine tasted of 
 hypocrisy. I think the rogue corporal smoked something 
 at last — as for the common fellows, never stir, but they 
 asked me to say grace over another quart." 
 
 " This is just what f wished to speak with you about, 
 Wildrake," said Markham — " You hold me, 1 am sure, 
 for your friend ,^" 
 
 " True as steel. — Chums at college and at Lincoln's- 
 Inn — we iiave been Nisus and Euryalus, Theseus and 
 Periihous, Orestes and Pylades ; and, to sum up the 
 vpho'e with a puritanic touch, David and Jonathan, all in 
 one breath. Not even politics, the wedge ihrt rends 
 families and friendships asunder, as iron rives oa':, have 
 been able to split us."
 
 72 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " True," answered Markhain ; " and when you fol- 
 lowed ihe King to Nottingham, and I enrolled under 
 Essex, we swore, at our parting, that wliichever side was 
 victorious, lie of us who adhered to it, should protect his 
 less fortunate comrade." 
 
 " Surely, man, surely ; and have you not protected 
 me accordingly ? Did you not save me from hanging ? 
 and am I not indehted to you for the bread 1 eatf" 
 
 " I have but done that which had the times been oth- 
 erwise, you, my dear VVildrake, would, 1 am sure, have 
 done for me. But, as I said, tiiat is just what 1 wished 
 to speak to you about. Why render the task of protect- 
 ing you more difficult than it must necessarily be at any 
 rate ? Wl)y thrust thyself into the company of soldiers, 
 or such-like, where thou art sure to be warmed into be- 
 traying thyself.'' VV^hy come hollowing and whooping out 
 cavalier ditties, like a drunken trooper of Pjince Rupert, 
 or one of Wihnot's swaggering body-guards .f*" 
 
 " B.^cause I may have been both one and t'other in 
 my day, for aught that you know," replied Wildrake. 
 " But, oddsfish ! is it necessary 1 should always be re- 
 minding you, that our obligation of mutual protection, 
 our league of offensive and defensive, as I may call it, 
 was to be carried into effect witliout reference to the 
 politics or religion of the party protected, or the least 
 obligation on hin> to conform to those of his friend .''" 
 
 " True," said Everard ; " but with this most necessa- 
 ry qualification, that the party should submit to such out- 
 ward conformity to the times as should make it more 
 easy and safe for his friend to he of service to him. Now, 
 you are perpetually breaking forth, to the hazard of your 
 own safety and my credit." 
 
 *' I tell you, Mark, and 1 would tell your namesake the 
 apostle, that you are hard on me. You have practised 
 sojariety and hypocrisy from your hanging sleeves till 
 your Geneva cassock — from the cradle to this day, — and 
 it is a thing of nature to you ; and you are surprised that 
 a rouL'!),. rattling, honest fellow, accustomed to speak 
 truth all his life, and especially v^hen he found it at the
 
 >VOODSTOCK« 
 
 73 
 
 bottom of a flask, cannot be so perfect a prig as thyself. 
 — Zooks ! there is no eqnahiy betwixt us — A trained 
 diver might as well, because he can retain his lireath lor 
 ten minutes without inconvenience, upbraid a poor devil 
 for being like to burst in twenty seconds — And, alter all, 
 considering the guise is so new to me, 1 think 1 bear my- 
 self indifftMenlly well — try me." 
 
 "Are there any more news from Worcester fight ?" 
 asked Everard, in a tone so serious that it imposed on 
 his companion, who replied in his genuine ( harac ter — 
 
 " Worse ! — d — n me, worse an hundred tinies tlum re- 
 ported — totally broken. Noll hath certainly sold himself 
 to the devil, and his lease will have an end one diiy — 
 that is all our present comfort." 
 
 " VV^hat ! and would this be your answer to the first 
 red-cojit who asked the question?" said Evernrd. " Re- 
 thinks you would find a speedy passpert to the next corps 
 de garde." 
 
 *' Nay, nay," answered Wildrake, " I thought you 
 asked me in your own |)erson. — Lack-a-day ! a gieat 
 mercy — a glorifying mercy — a crowning mercy — a 
 vouchsafing — an uplifting — I profess the malignants are 
 scattered from Dan to Beersheba — smitten, hip and 
 tliigh, even until the going down of the sun !" 
 
 " Hear you aui:;ht of ('olonel Thornhaugh's wounds ?" 
 
 " He is dead," answered Wildrake, "that's one com- 
 fort — the round-headed rascal ! — Nay, hold ! it was but 
 a trip of the tongue — 1 meant,' the sweet godly }outli." 
 
 " Aiul hear you aught of the young man, King of 
 Scotland, as they call him ?" said Everard. 
 
 " Nothing, but lh;it he is hunted like a partridge on the 
 mountains. May God deliver him, and confound his 
 enemies I — Zoons, Mark Everard, I can fool it no longer. 
 Do you not remember, that at the Lincoln's-Inn gambols 
 — thou2;h you did not mingle much in them I think — I 
 used always to play as well as any of them, when it came 
 to the action, but they could never get me to rehearse 
 conformably. It's the same at this day. 1 hear your 
 
 7 VOL. I.
 
 74 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 voice, and I answer to it in the true tone of my heart j 
 but when 1 am in the company of your snuffling friends, 
 you have seen me act my part indifferent well." 
 
 "But iuflifterent, indeed," replied Kverard ; "how- 
 ever, there is little call on you to do aught, save to be 
 modest and silent. Speak little, and lay aside, if you 
 can, your big oaths and swaggering looks — set your bat 
 even on your brows." 
 
 " Ay, that is the ciu'se ! 1 havo been always noted 
 for the jaunty manner in which I wear my castor — Hard 
 when a man's merits become his enemies." 
 
 " You must remember you are my clerk." 
 
 " Secretary," answered VVildrake; " let it be secreta- 
 ry, if you love me." 
 
 " It must be clerk, and nothing else — plain clerk — 
 and remember to be civil and obedient," replied Everard. 
 
 " But you should not lay on your commands with so 
 much ostentatious superiority, IMaster Markham Everard. 
 Remember I am your senior of three years standing. 
 Confound me, if I know how to take it !" 
 
 " Was ever such a fantastic wronghead ? — For my 
 sake, if not for thine own, bend thy freakish folly to listen 
 to reason. Think that I have incurred both risk and 
 shame on thy account." 
 
 " Nay, thou art a ri2;ht good fellow, Mark," replied 
 the cavalier, " and for thy sake I will do much — but re- 
 member to cough, and cry hem ! when thou seest me like 
 to break bounds — And now tell me whither we are bound 
 for the niglit ?" 
 
 " To Woodstock Lodge, to look after my uncle's pro- 
 perty," answered iMarkham Everard : " I am informed 
 that soldiers have taken possession — Yet how could that 
 be, if thou foundest the party drinking in Woodstock?" 
 
 " There was a kind of commissary or steward, or 
 some such rogue, had gone down to the Lodge," replied 
 Wildrake ; " I had a peep at him." 
 
 " fndeed ?" replied Everard. 
 
 " Ay, verily, to speak your own language. AVliy, as I 
 passed through the park in quest of you, scarce half an
 
 AV 001) STOCK. 75 
 
 hour since, I saw a light in the Lodge — Step this way, you 
 will see it yourself." 
 
 '* In the noith west angle ? — It is from a window in 
 what they call Victor Lee's apartment." 
 
 " Well," resumed Wildiake, " I had been long one of 
 Lundsford's lads, and well used to patrolling duty — So, 
 rat me, says I, if J leave a light in my rear, without 
 knowing what it means. Besides, ^Jark, thou hadstsaid 
 so much to me of thy pretty cousin, 1 thought I might 
 as well hdve a peep, if I could." 
 
 " Thoughtless, thoughtless, incorrigible young man — 
 to what dangers do you expose yourself and your friends, 
 in mere wantonness ! — But go on I" 
 
 " By this fair moonshirie, 1 believe thou art jealous, 
 Mark Everard I" replied his gay companion ; " there is 
 no occasion ; for, in any case, I, who was to see the lady, 
 was steeled by honour against the chai ms of my friend's 
 Chloe — Then the lady was not to see me, so could make 
 no comparisons to thy disadvantage, thou knowest — 
 Lastly, as it fell out, neither of us saw the other at all." 
 
 " Of that I am well aware. JMrs. Alice left the Lodge 
 long before sunset, and never returned. What didst 
 thou see, to introduce with such preface ?" 
 
 " Nay, no great matter," replied Wildrake ; " only 
 getting upon a sort of buitiess, (furl can climb like any 
 cat that ever mewed in any gutter,) and holding on by 
 the vines and creepers which grew around, I obtained a 
 station where I could see into the inside of that same 
 parlour thou spokest of just now." 
 
 " And what saw'st thou there ?" once more demanded 
 Everard. 
 
 " Nay, no great matter, as I said before," replied the 
 cavalier ; " for in these times it is no new thing to see 
 churls carousing in royal or noble chambers. I saw two 
 rascallions engaged in emptying a solemn stoup of strong 
 waters, and despatching a huge venison pasty, which, for 
 their convenience, they had placed on a lady's working 
 table — One of them was trying an air on a lute."
 
 76 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " The profane villains !" exclaimed Everard, " it was 
 Alice's." 
 
 " Well said, comrade — I am glad your phlegm can be 
 moved. I did but throw iu these incidents ol' the lute 
 and the table to try if it was possible to get a spark of 
 human spirit out of you, besanctified as you are." 
 
 " What like were the men f^^ said young Everard. 
 
 " The one a slouch-hatted, long-cloake<l, sour-faced 
 fanatic, like the rest of you, whom 1 took to be the stew- 
 ard or commissary I heard spoken of in the town ; the 
 other was a short sturdy fellow, with a wood-knife at his 
 girdle, and a long quarter-staff lying beside him — a black- 
 haired knave, with white teeth ajid a ujerry countenance 
 — one of the under-rangers or bow-bearers of these 
 walks, I fancy." 
 
 " Ti)ey must have been Desborough's favourite, trusty 
 Tomkins," said Everard, *' and Joceline Jolifte, the 
 keeper. Tomkins is Desborough's right hand — an In- 
 dependent, and hath pourings forth, as he calls them. 
 Soaie think that his gifts have the better of his grace. 
 1 have heard of his abusing opportunities." 
 
 "They were improving them when I saw them," re- 
 plied Wildrake, " and made the bottle smoke lor it — 
 when, as the devil would have it, a stone, which had been 
 dislodged from the crumbling buttress, gave way under 
 my weight. A clumsy fellow like thee would have been 
 so long tliinkin2; what was to be done, that he must needs 
 have followed it before he could make up his mind ; but 
 I, Mark, 1 hopped like a squirrel to an ivy twig, and 
 stood fast — was well nigh shot throua;!), for the noise 
 alarmed them both. They looked to the oriel, and saw 
 me on the outside ; the fanatic fellow took out a pistol 
 — as they have always such texts in readiness, bunging 
 beside the little clasped Bible, thou know'sl — the keeper 
 seized his hunting-pole — I treated them boih to a roar 
 and a grin — thou must know I can grimace like a baboon 
 — I learned the trick from a French player, who could 
 twist his jaws into a piir of n-it-crackers — and there- 
 withal I dropped myself sweetly on the jsrass, and ran off
 
 WOODSTOCK. 77 
 
 so trippingly, keeping the Hark side of the wall as lotig 
 as 1 could, that 1 am well nigh persuaded they thought 
 I was their kinsman, the devil, come among tiiern uncall- 
 ed. They were ahominably startled." 
 
 "Thou art most fearfully rash, VVildrake," said his 
 companion ; " we are now bound for the house — what 
 if they should remember thee .^" 
 
 " VVhy, it is no treason, is it f No one has paid for 
 peeping since Tom of Coventry's days ; and if he came 
 in for a reckoning, belike it was for a better treat than 
 mine. But trust me, they will no more know me, than a 
 man who had only seen your friend Noll at a conventicle 
 of saints, would know the same Oliver on horseback, 
 and charging with his lobster-tailed squadron ; or the 
 same Noll cracking a jest and a bottle with wicked Wal- 
 ler the poet." 
 
 *' Hush ! not a word of Oliver, as thou dost value thy- 
 self and me. It is ill jesting with the rock you may split 
 on. — But here is the gate — we will disturb these honest 
 gentlenien's recreations." 
 
 As he spoke he applied the large and ponderous 
 knocker to the hall-door. 
 
 " Rat-tat tat-too !" said Wildrake, " there is a fine 
 alarm to you cuckolds and roundheads." He then half- 
 mimicked, half-sung the march so called : — 
 
 ' Cuckolfis, come dig. curkolf's, come dig ; 
 Hound about cuckolds, come dance to my jig- !" 
 
 " By Heaven ! this passes Midsummer frenzy," said 
 Everard, itirning angrily to him. 
 
 " Not a bit, not a bit," replied VVildrake ; *' it Is but 
 Q. slight expectoration, just like what one makes before 
 beginning a long speech. 1 will be grnve for an hour\ 
 together, now 1 have got that point of war out of my 
 head." 
 
 As he spoke, steps were heard in the hall, and the 
 wicket of the great door was partly opened, but secured 
 with a chain in case of accidents. The visage of Tom- 
 
 7* VOL. I.
 
 78 
 
 WOOa STOCK. 
 
 kins, and that of Joceline beneath it, appeared at the 
 chink, illuminated by the lamp which the latter held in 
 his hand, and Tomkins demanded the meaning of this 
 dlarm. 
 
 " I demand instant admittance !" said Everard. " Jo- 
 iiffe, you know me well f"" 
 
 " I do, sir,'" replied Joceline, " and could admit you 
 with all my heart ; but, alas ! sir, you see I am not key- 
 keeper — Here is the gentleman whose warrant 1 mu.t 
 walk by — The Lord help me, seeing times are such as 
 They be !" 
 
 *' And when that gentleman, who I think may be Mas- 
 ter Desborougli's valet " 
 
 " His honour's unworthy secretary, an it please you,'* 
 interposed Tomkins ; while Wildrake whispered in Eve- 
 rard's ear, " 1 will be no longer secretary, Mark, thou 
 wert quite right — the clerk must be the more gentleman- 
 ly calling." 
 
 " And if you are Master Desborough's secretary, I 
 presume you know me and my condition well enough," 
 said Everard, addressing the Independent, ** not to hesi- 
 tate to admit me and my attendant to a night's quarters 
 in the Lodge ?" 
 
 " Surely not, surely not," said the Independent — 
 '* that is, if your worship thinks you would be better ac- 
 commodated here than up at the house of entertainment 
 in the town, which men unprofitably call Saint George's 
 Inn. There is but confined accommodation here, your 
 honour — and we have been frayed out of our lives al- 
 ready by the visitation of Satan — albeit his fiery dart is 
 now quenched." 
 
 " This may be all well in its place, Sir Secretary," said 
 Everard ; " and you may find a corner for it when you 
 are next tempted to play the preacher. But 1 will take 
 it for no apology for keeping me here in the cold harvest 
 wind ; and if not presently received, and suitably too, I 
 will report you to your master for insolence in your 
 office."
 
 WOODSTOCK. "79 
 
 The secretary of Desboroiigh did not dare offer far- 
 ther o|»j)osition ; idr it was well known that DesLorcugh 
 himself only held his consequence as a kinsman of Crom- 
 well, and the Lord General, who was well nigh paramount 
 already, was known to be strongly favourable both to the 
 elder and younger Everard. It is true, they were Pres- 
 byterians and he an Independent ; and that, though 
 sharing those feelings of correct morality and more de- 
 voted religiotjs feeling, by which, with few exceptions, 
 the Parliamentarian party were distinguished, the Ever- 
 ards were not disposed to carry these attributes to the 
 extreme of enthusiasm, practised by so many others at 
 the time. Yet it was well known that whatever might be 
 Cromwell's own religious creed, he was not uniformly 
 botmded by it in the choice of his favourites, but extend- 
 ed his countenance to those who could serve him, even al- 
 though, according to the phrase of the time, they came 
 out of the darkness of Egypt. The character of the 
 elder Everard stood very high for wisdom and sagacity ; 
 besides, being of a good family and competent iortune, 
 his adherence would lend a dignity to any side he might 
 espouse. Then his son had been a distinguished and 
 successful soldier, remarkable for the discipline he main- 
 tained among his men, the bravery, which he showed in 
 the time of action, and the humanity with which he was 
 always ready to qualify the consequences of victory. 
 Such men were not to be neglected, when many signs 
 combined to show that the parties in the state, v\ ho had 
 successfully accomplished the deposition and death of 
 the King, were speedily to quarrel among themselves 
 about the division of the spoils. The two Everards were 
 therefore much courted by Cromwell, and their influence 
 with him supposed to be so great, that trusty Mr. Secreta- 
 ry Tomkins cared not to expose himself to risk, by con- 
 tending with Colonel Everard for such a trifle as a night's 
 lodging. 
 
 Joceline was active on his side — more lights were ob- 
 taired — more wood thrown on the fire — and the two 
 newly-arrived strangers were introduced into Victor Lee*B
 
 80 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 parlour, as it was called, from the picture over the chim- 
 ney-piece, which we have already described. It was 
 several minutes ere Colonel Everard could recover his 
 general stoicism of deportment, so strongly he was im- 
 pressed by finding himself in the apartment, under whose 
 roof he had passed so many of the happiest hours of his 
 life. There was the cabinet, which he had seen opened 
 with such feelings of delight vyheu Sir Henry Lee deign- 
 ed to give him instructions in fishing, and to exhibit 
 hooks and lines, together with all tiie materials for mak- 
 ing the artificial fly, then little known. There hung the 
 ancient family picture, which, from some odd mysterious 
 expressions of his uncle, relating to it, had become to 
 his boyhood, nay, his early youth, a subject of curiosity 
 and of fear. He remembered how, when left alone in 
 the apartment, the searching eye of the old warrior seem- 
 ed always bent upon his, in whatever part of the room he 
 placed himself, and how his childisli imagination was per- 
 turbed at a phenomenon, for which he could not account. 
 
 With these came a thousand more dear and warmer 
 recollections of his early attachment to his pretty cousin 
 Alice, when he aided at her lessons, brought water for 
 her flowers, or accompanied her while she sung ; and 
 he remembered that while her fatlier looked at them with 
 a good-humoured and careless smile, he had once heard 
 him mutter, ' And if it should turn out so — why it might 
 be best for both,' and the theories of happiness he had 
 reared on these words. All these visions had been dis- 
 peiled by the truiupet of war, which called Sir Henry 
 Lee and himself to opposite sides ; and the transactions 
 of this very day had shown, that even Everard's success 
 as a soldier and a statesman seemed absolutely to prohibit 
 the chance of their bein2^ revived. 
 
 He was waked out of this unpleasini^ reverie by the 
 approach of Joceline, who, being possibly a seasoned to- 
 per, had made the additional arrangements with more 
 expedition and accuracy than could have been expected 
 from a person engaged as he had been since night-fall.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 81 
 
 He now wished to know the Colonel's directions for 
 the night. 
 
 " Would he eat anything?" 
 
 " x\o." 
 
 " Did his honor choose to accept Sir Henry Lee's bed, 
 which was ready prepared ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That of Mistress Alice Lee should be prepared for 
 the Secretary." 
 
 " On pain of thine ears — No," replied Everard. 
 
 '* Where then was the worthy Secretary lo be quar- 
 tered .^" 
 
 *' Jn the dog-kennel, if you list," replied Colonel 
 Everard ; " but," added he, stepping to the sleeping- 
 apartment of Alice, which opened Irorn the parlour, 
 locking it, and taking out the key, " no one si^all pro- 
 fane this chamber." 
 
 *' Had his honour any other commands for the night .^" 
 
 " None, save to clear the apartment of yonder man. — 
 My clerk will remain with me — I have orders which must 
 be written out. — Yet stay — Thou gavest my letter this 
 morning to Mistress Alice .^" 
 
 " 1 did." 
 
 "Tell me, good Joceline, what she said when she re- 
 ceived it ?" 
 
 " She seemed nuich concerned, sir ; and indeed I think 
 that she wept a little — but indeed she seemed very much 
 distressed." 
 
 " And what message did she send to me ?" 
 
 *' None, may it please your honour — She began to say, 
 *Tell my cousin Everard that 1 will communicate n.y un- 
 cle's kind purpose to my father, if 1 can get fitting op- 
 portunity — but that I greatly fear' — and there checked 
 herself, as it were, and said, ' I will write to my cousin ; 
 and as it may be late ere 1 have an opportunity of speak- 
 ing with my father, do thou come lor my answer after 
 service.' — So I went to church myself, to while away 
 the Uiue ; but when I returned to the chase, 1 found this 
 man had summoned my master to surrender, and right or
 
 83 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 wrons; I must put him in possession of the Lodge. I 
 would fain have given your honour a hint that tlie old 
 Knight and my young mistress were like to take you on 
 the foi-m, hut 1 could not mend the matter." 
 
 " Thou hast done well, good fellow, and 1 will remem- 
 ber thee. And now, my masters," he said, advancing to 
 the brace of clerks or secretaries, who had in the mean- 
 while sdt quietly down beside the stone bottle, and made 
 up acquaintance over a glass of its contents- — " Let me 
 remind you," said the Colonel, •' that the night wears 
 late." 
 
 "There is something cries tinkle, tinkle, in the bottle 
 yet," said Wildrake in reply. 
 
 " Hem ! hem ! hem !" coughed the Colonel of the 
 parliamentarian service ; and if his lips did not curse his 
 companion's imprudence, 1 will not answer for what arose 
 in his heart. — "Well!" he said, obsejving that Wild- 
 rake had filled his own glass and Tomkins's " take that 
 parting glass and begone." 
 
 " Would you not be pleased to hear first," said Wild- 
 rake, " how this honest gentleman saw the devil to-night 
 look through a pane of yonder window, and how he 
 thinks he had a mighty strong resemblance to your wor- 
 ship's humble slave and varlet scribbler ? Would you 
 but hear this, sir, and just sip a glass of this very recom- 
 mendable strong waters ?" 
 
 " 1 will drink none, sir," said Colonel Everard sternly ; 
 "and i have to tell you, that you have drunken a glass 
 too much already. — Mr. Tomkins, sir, I wish you good 
 night." 
 
 " A word in season at parting," said Tomkins, stand- 
 ing up behind the long leathern back of a chair, hemming 
 and snuffling as if preparing for an exhortation. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," replied Markham Everard sternly ; 
 " you are not now sufficiently yourself to guide the devo- 
 tion of others." 
 
 " Woe be to them that reject !" said the Secretary 
 of the Commissioners, stalking out of the room — the
 
 WOODSTOCK. ' 83 
 
 rest was lost in shutting the door, or suppressed for fear 
 of offence. 
 
 " And now, fool Wildrake, begone to thy bed — yonder 
 it lies," j)oinling to the Knight's apartment. 
 
 " What, thou hast secured the lady's for thyself f I 
 saw thee put the key in thy pocket." 
 
 " 1 woidd not — indeed 1 could not sleep in that apart- 
 ment — 1 can sleep nowhere — but I will watch in this 
 armed chair. — I have made him place wood for repairing 
 the (ire. — Good now, go to bed thyself, and sleep off thy 
 liquor." 
 
 " Liquor ! — I laugh thee to scorn, Mark — thou art a 
 milksop, and the son of a milksop, and know'st not what 
 a good fellow can do in the way of crushing an honest 
 cup." 
 
 " The whole vices of his faction are in this poor fellow 
 individually," said the Colonel to hinsself, eying his pro- 
 tegee askance, as the ctlier retreated into tlie bed-room 
 with no very steady pace — " He is reckless, intemperate, 
 dissolute ; and if I cannot get him safely shipped for 
 France, he will certainly be both iiis own ruin and mine. 
 — Yet, withal, he is kind, brave, and generous, and would 
 have kept the faith with me which he now expects from 
 me; and in what consists the merit of our truth, if we 
 observe not our plighted word when we have promised to 
 our hurt.'' J will take the liberty, however, to secme my- 
 self against farther interruption on his part." 
 
 So saying, he locked the door of commum'cation be- 
 tWMXt the sleeping-roou), to which the cavalier hi'.d re- 
 treated, and the parlour ; — and then, after pacing the floor 
 thoughtfully, returned to liis seat, trimmed the h u^p, and 
 drew out a number of letters. — " I will read these over 
 once more," he said, " that, if possible, the thought of 
 public affairs may expel this keen sense of personal sor- 
 row. Gracious Providence, w here is this to end ? We 
 have sacrificed the peace of our families, the wannest 
 wishes of our young hearts, to right the countiy in which 
 we were horn, and to free her from oppression ; yet it 
 appears, that every step we have made towards hberty,
 
 84 W( ODSTOCK. 
 
 has but brought us in view of new and more terrific perils, 
 as he who ijavels in a mouiiiaiiions region, is, by every 
 step which elevates him highest, placed in a situation of 
 more imminent hazard." 
 
 He read long and altenlively, various tedious and em- 
 barrassed letters, in which the writeis, p ac ing beloie liim 
 the glory of God, and tlie freedom and hbeitics of Eng- 
 land, as their supieme ends, couhl not, by all the ambag- 
 itory expressions they made use ol, prt vent the shrewd 
 eye of Markham Everard from secii g, that self interest 
 and views of ambition were the principal moving springs 
 at the bottom of their plots. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Sleep steals on us even like his brotln^r Death — 
 
 \\ e know not when it conies — we know it must come— 
 
 We mav affect to scorn and to conteimi it, 
 
 For 'tis the highest pride of human misery 
 
 To say it knows not of aii opiate : 
 
 Yet the reft parent, the despairing^ lover, 
 
 Even the poor wretch who waits (or execution, 
 
 Feels this ol)livion. against whi<h he thougiit 
 
 His woes had armed his senses, steal ujion him, 
 
 And throug-h the fenceless citadel— the hody, 
 
 Surprise that haughty garrison — the mind. HERBERT, 
 
 Colonel Everard experienced the truth contained 
 in the verses of the quaint old bard whom we have quoted 
 above. Amid private grief, and anxiety for a country 
 long a prey to civil war, and not likely to fall soon under 
 any fixed or well-established form of government, Ev^e- 
 rard and his father had, like many others, tmned their 
 eyes to General Cromwell, as the person whose valour 
 had made him the darling of the army, whose strong sa- 
 gacity had hitherto predominated over the high talents 
 by which he had been assailed in Parliament, as well as
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 85 
 
 over his enemies in the field, and who was alone in the 
 situation to settle the nation, as the phrase then went ; or, 
 in other words, to dictate the mode of governnient. 
 The lather and son were hoth reputed to stand high in 
 the General's favour. But INlarkliam Everard was con- 
 scious of some particulars, which induced him to douht 
 whether Cromwell actually, and at heart, bore either to 
 his father or to himself tliat good-will which was gen- 
 erally believed. He knew him for a profound politician, 
 w^io could veil for any length of time his real sentiments 
 of men and things, imtil they could be displayed without 
 prejudice to his interest. And he moreover knew that 
 the General was not likely to forget the opposition which 
 the Presbyterian party had offered tovvhat Oliver called 
 the Great AJatter — the trial, namely, and execution of 
 the King. In this opposition, his father and he had anx- 
 iously concurred, nor had the arguments, nor even the 
 half-expressed threats of Cromwell, induced them to 
 flinch from that course, far less to permit their names to 
 be introduced into the commission nominated to sit in 
 judgment on that memorable occasion. 
 
 This hesitation had occasioned some temporary cold- 
 ness between the General and the Everards, father and 
 son. But as the latter remained in the army, and bore 
 arms under Cromwell both in Scotland, and finally at 
 Worcester, his services very frequently called forth the 
 approbation of his commander. After the fight of 
 Worcester, in particular, he was among the nuinber of 
 those officers on whom Oliver, rather considering the 
 actual and practical extent of his own power, than the 
 name under which he exercised it, was with difficulty 
 withheld from imposing the dignity of Knights Bannerets 
 at his own will and pleasure. It therefore seemed, that 
 all recollection of former disagreement was obliterated, 
 and that the Everards had regained their former strong- 
 bold in the General's affections. There were, indeed, 
 several who doubted this, and who endeavoured to bring 
 over this distinguished young officer to some other of the 
 
 8 VOL. I.
 
 86 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 parties which divided the infant Commonwealth. But 
 to these proposals he turned a deaf ear. Enough of 
 blood, he said, had been spilled — it was time that the 
 nation should have repose under a firmly-established gov- 
 ernment, of strength sufficient to protect property, and 
 of lenity enough to encourage the return of tranquillity. 
 This, he thought, could only be accomplished by means 
 of Cromwell, and the greater part of England was of the 
 same opinion. It was true, that, in thus submitting to 
 the domination of a successful soldier, those who did so, 
 forgot the principles upon which they had drawn the 
 sword against the late King. But in revolutions, stern 
 and high principles are often obliged to give way to the 
 current of existing circumstances ; and in many a case, 
 where wars have been waged for points of metaphysical 
 right, they have been at last gladly terminated, upon the 
 mere hope of obtaining general tranquillity, as, after 
 many a long siege, a garrison is often glad to submit on 
 mere security for life and limb. 
 
 Colonel Everard, therefore, felt that the support which 
 he afforded Cromwell, was only under the idea, that, 
 amid a choice of evils, the least was likely to ensue from 
 a man of the General's wisdom and valour being placed 
 at the head of the state ; and he was sensible that Oliver 
 himself was likely to consider his attachment as luke- 
 warm and imperfect, and measure his gratitude for it upon 
 the same limited scale. 
 
 In the meanwhile, however, circumstances compelled 
 him to make trial of the General's friendship. The se- 
 questration of Woodstock, and the warrant to the Com- 
 missioners to dispose of it as national property, had been 
 long granted, but the interest of the elder Everard had 
 for weeks and months deferred its execution. The hour 
 was now approaching when the blow could be no longer 
 parried, especially as Sir Henry Lee, on his side, resisted 
 every proposal of submitting himself to the existing gov- 
 ernment, and was therefore, now that his hour of grace 
 v/as passed, enrolled in the list of stubborn and irre- 
 claimable malignants, with whom the Council of State
 
 WOODSTOCK. 87 
 
 was determined no longer to keep terms. The only 
 mode of protecting the old Knight and his daughter, was 
 to interest, if possible, the General himself in the matter ; 
 and revolving all the circumstances connected with their 
 intercourse, Colonel Everard felt that a request, which 
 would so immediately interfere with the interests of Des- 
 borough, the brother-in-law of Cromwell, and one of the 
 present Commissioners, was putting to a very severe trial 
 the friendship of the latter. Yet no alternative remained. 
 
 With this view, and agreeably to a request from Crom- 
 well, who at parting had been very urgent to have his 
 written opinion upon public affairs. Colonel Everard pass- 
 ed the earlier part of the night in arranging his ideas 
 upon the state of the commonwealth, in a plan which he 
 thought likely to be acceptable to Cromwell, as it exhort- 
 ed him, under the ard of Providence, to become the 
 saviour of the state, by convoking a free Parliament, and 
 by their aid placing himself at the head of some form 
 of liberal and established government, which might su- 
 persede the estate of anarchy, in which the nation was 
 otherwise likely to be merged. Taking a general view 
 of the totally broken condition of the royalists, and of the 
 various factions which now convulsed the state, he showed 
 how this might be done without bloodshed or violence. 
 From this topic he descended to the propriety of keeping 
 up the becoming state of the executive government, in 
 whose hands soever it should be lodged, and thus showed 
 Cromwell, as the future Stadtholder, or Consul, or Lieu- 
 tenant-General of Great Britain and Ireland, a prospect 
 of demesne and residences becoming his dignity. Then 
 he naturally passed to the disparking and d( stroying of 
 the royal residences of England, made a woful picture 
 of the demolition which impended over Woodstock, and 
 interceded for the preservation of that beautiful seat, as 
 a matter of personal favour, in which he found himself 
 deeply interested. 
 
 Colonel Everard, when he had finished his letter, did 
 not find himself greatly risen in his own opinion. In the 
 ^'^"rse of his political conduct, he had till this hour avoid-
 
 B8 WOODSTOCK-. 
 
 ed mixing up personal motives with bis public grounds 
 of actio I, and yet he now felt himself making such a com- 
 position. But he comforted himself, or at least silenced 
 this unpleasing recollection, with the consideration, that 
 the weal of Britain, studied under the aspect of the times, 
 absolutely required that Cromwell should be at the head 
 of the government ; and that the interest of Sir Henry 
 Lee, or rather his safety and his existence, no less em- 
 phatically demanded the preservation of Woodstock, and 
 his residence there. Was it a fault of his, that the same 
 road should lead to both these ends, or that his private 
 interest, and that of the country, should happen to mix in 
 the same letter ? He hardened himself, therefore, to the 
 act, made up and addressed his packet to th.e Lord Gen- 
 eral, and then sealed it with his seal of arms. This done, 
 he lay back in his chair ; and, in spite of his expectations 
 to the contrary, fell asleep in the course of his reflections, 
 anxious and harassing as they were, and did not awaken 
 until the cold grey light of dawn was peeping through the 
 eastern oriel. # 
 
 He started at first, rousing himself with the sensation 
 of one who awakes in a place unknown to him ; but the 
 localities instantly forced themselves on his recollection. 
 The lamp burning dimly in the socket, the wood-fire al- 
 most extinguished in its own wdiite embers, the gloomy 
 picture over the chimney-piece, the sealed packet on the 
 table — all reminded him of the events of yesterday, and 
 his deliberations of the succeeding night. 
 
 «' There is no help for it," he said ; " it must be 
 Cromwell or anarchy. And probably the sense, that his 
 title, as head of the Executive Government, is derived 
 merely from popular consent, may check the too natural 
 proneness of power to render itself arbitrary. If he 
 govern by Parliaments, and with regard to the privileges 
 of the subject, wherefore not Oliver as well as Charles.^ 
 But I must take measures for having this conveyed safely 
 to the hands of this future soverei2;n Prince. Tt will be 
 well to take the first word of influence with him, since
 
 >VOODSTOCK. 
 
 89 
 
 there must be many who will not hesitate to recommend 
 counsels more violent and precipitate." 
 
 He determined to intrust the important packet to the 
 charge of Wildrake, whose rashness was never so distin- 
 guished, as when by any chance he was left idle and un- 
 employed ; besides, even if his faith had not been oth- 
 erwise unimpeachable, the obligations which he owed to 
 his friend Everard must have rendered it such. 
 
 These conclusions passed through Colonel Everard's 
 mind, as, collecting the remains of wood in the chimney, 
 he gathered them into a hearty blaze, to remove the un- 
 comfortable feeling of chillness which pervaded his 
 limbs ; and by the time he was a little more warm, again 
 sunk into a slumber which was only dispelled by the 
 beams of morning peeping into his apartment. 
 
 He arose, roused himself, walked up and down the 
 room, and looked from the large oriel windows on the 
 nearest objects, which were the untrimmed hedges and 
 neglected walks of a certain wilderness, as it is called in 
 ancient treatises on gardening, which, kept of yore well 
 ordered, and in all the pride of the topiary art, presented 
 a succession of yew trees cut into fantastic forms, of close 
 alleys, and of open walks, filling about two or three 
 acres of ground on that side of the Lodge, and forming 
 a boundary between its immediate precincts and the open 
 Park. Its inclosure was now broken down in many 
 places, and the hinds with their fawns fed free and un- 
 startled up to the very windows of the sylvan palace. 
 
 This had been a favourite scene of Markham's sports 
 when a boy. He could still distinguish, though now grown 
 out of shape, the verdant battlements of a Gothic castle, 
 all created by the gardner's shears, at which he was ac- 
 customed to shoot his arrows, or, stalking before it like 
 the Knight-errant of whom he read, was wont to blow 
 his horn, and bid defiance to the supposed giant or Pay- 
 nim Knight, by whom it was garrisoned. He remem- 
 bered how he used to train his cousin, though several 
 years younger than himself, to bear a part in these revels 
 
 8* VOL. I.
 
 90 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 of his boyish fancy, and to play the character of an elfin 
 page, or a fairy, or an enchanted princess. He remem- 
 beied, too, many particulars of their later acquaintance, 
 from which he had been almost necessarily led to the 
 conclusion, that from an early period their parents had 
 entertained some idea, that there miglit be a well-fitted 
 match betwixt his fair cousin and himself. A thousand 
 visions formed in so bright a prospect had vanished along 
 with it, but now returned like shadows, to remind him 
 of all he had lost — and for what f — " For the sake of 
 England," his proud consciousness replied, — "Of Eng- 
 land, in danger of becoming the prey at once of bigotry 
 and tyranny." And he strengthened himself with the 
 recollection, " If I have sacrificed my private happiness, 
 it is that my country may enjoy liberty of conscience, and 
 personal freedom ; which, under a weak Prince and 
 usurping statesmen, she was but too likely to have lost." 
 
 But the busy fiend in his breast would not be repulsed 
 by the bold answer. " Has thy resistance," it demand- 
 ed, " availed thy country, Markham Everard ^ Lies 
 not England, after so much bloodshed, and so much mis- 
 ery, as low beneath the sword of a fortunate soldier as 
 formerly under the sceptre of an encroaching Prince ? 
 Are Parliament, or what remains of them, fitted to con- 
 tend with a leader, master of his soldiers' hearts, as bold 
 and subtle as he is impenetrable in his designs ? This 
 General, who holds the army, and by that the fate of the 
 nation in his hand, will he lay dow^n his power because 
 philosophy would pronounce it his duty to become a 
 subject .^" 
 
 He dared not answer that his knowledge of Cromwell 
 authorized him to expect any such act of self-denial. 
 Yet still he considered that in times of such infinite diffi- 
 culty, that must be the best government, however little 
 desirous in itself, which should most speedily restore 
 peace to the land, and stop the wounds which the con- 
 tending parties were daily inflicting on each other. He 
 imagined that Cromwell was the only authority under 
 which a steady government could be formed, and there-
 
 "WOODSTOCK. 
 
 91 
 
 fore had attached himself to his fortune, though not with- 
 out considerable and recurring doubts, how far serving 
 the views of this impenetrable and mysterious General 
 was consistent with the principles under which he had 
 assumed arms. 
 
 While these things passed in his mind, Everard looked 
 upon the packet which lay on the table addressed to the 
 Lord General, and which he had made up before sleep. 
 He hesitated several times, when he remembered its pur- 
 port, and in what degree he must stand committed with 
 that personage, and bound to support his plans of aggran- 
 dizement, when once that communication was in Oliver 
 Cronjwell's possession. 
 
 " Yet it must be so," he said at last, with a deep 
 sigh. " Among the contending parties, he is the strong- 
 est — the wisest and most moderate — and ambitious 
 though he be, perhaps not the most dangerous. Some 
 one must be trusted with power to preserve and enforce 
 genera] order, and who can possess or wield such power 
 like him that is head of the victorious armies of England ? 
 Come what will in future, peace and the restoration of 
 law ought to be our first and most pressing object. This 
 remnant of a Parliament cannot keep their ground against 
 the army, by mere appeal to the sanction of opinion. If 
 they design to reduce the soldiery, it must be by actual 
 warfare, and the land has been too long steeped in bloods 
 But Cromwell may, and I trust will, make a moderate ac- 
 commodation with them, on grounds by which peace may 
 be preserved ; and it is to this which we must look and 
 trust for a settlement of the kingdom, alas ! and for the 
 chance of protecting my obstinate kinsman from the con- 
 sequences of his honest though absurd pertinacity." 
 
 Silencing some internal feelinjis of doubt and reluct- 
 ance by such reasoning as this, Markham Everard con- 
 tinued in his resolution to unite himself with Cromwell 
 in the struggle which was evidently approaching betwixt 
 the civil and military authorities ; not as the course which, 
 if at perfect liberty, he would have preferred adopting, 
 but as the best choice between two dangerous extremi-
 
 92 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ties to which the times had redaced him. He could not 
 help trembling, however, when he recollected that his 
 father, though hitherto the admirer of Cromwell, as the 
 implement by whom so many marvels had been wrought 
 in England, might not be disposed to unite with his inter- 
 est against that of the Long Parliament, of which he 
 had been, till partly laid aside by continued indisposition, 
 an active and leading member. This doubt also he was 
 obliged to swallow, or strangle, as he might ; but consol- 
 ing himself with the ready argument, that it was impos- 
 sible his father could see matters in another light than 
 that in which they occurred to himself. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Determined at length to despatch his packet to the 
 General without delay. Colonel Everard approached the 
 door of the apartment, in which, as was evident from the 
 dead breathing within, the prisoner Wildrake enjoyed a 
 deep slumber, under the influence of liquor at once and 
 of fatigue. In turning the key, the bolt, which was 
 rather rusty, made a resistance so noisy, as partly to at- 
 tract the sleeper's attention, though not to awake him. 
 Everard stood by his bed-side, as he heard him mutter, 
 * Ts it morning already, jailor ? — Why, you dog, an' you 
 had but a cast of humanity in you, you would qualify your 
 vile news with a cup of sack, — hanging is sorry work, my 
 masters — and sorrow's dry." 
 
 " Up, Wildrake — up, thou ill-omened dreamer," said 
 his friend, shaking him by the collar. 
 
 " Hands off!" answered the sleeper, — " I can climb a 
 ladder without help, I trow." — He then sat up in the 
 bed, and opening his eyes, stared around him, and ex- 
 claimed, ''Zounds ! Mark, is it only thou ? 1 thought it 
 was all over with me — fetters were struck from my legs
 
 WOODSTOCK. 93 
 
 — rope drawn round my gullet — irons knocked off my 
 hands — hempen cravat lucked on — all ready lor a dance 
 in the open element upon slight footing." 
 
 "Truce with tliy lolly, Wildrake ; sure the devil of 
 drink, to whom thou hast, I think, sold thyself " 
 
 " For a hogshead of sack," interrupted VVildrake ; 
 " the bargain was made in a cellar in the vintry." 
 
 " 1 am as mad as thou art, to trust anything to thee," 
 said Markham ; " 1 scarce believe thou hast thy senses 
 yet." 
 
 " What should ail me ?" said Wildrake — " I trust I 
 have not tasted liquor in my sleep, saving that 1 dieam- 
 ed of drinking small-beer witb Old IVoll, of his own brew- 
 ing. — But do not look so glum, man — I am the same 
 Roger Wildrake that I ever was ; as wild as a mallard, 
 but as true as a gamecock, I am thine own chum, man — 
 bound to thee by thy kind deeds — devinctus leneficio — 
 there is Latin for it ; and where is the thing thou wilt 
 charge me with, that I will not, or dare not execute, 
 were it to pick the devil's teeth with my rapier, after he 
 had breaklasted upon roundheads." 
 
 " You will drive me mad," said Everard. — '• When 
 lam about to intrust all I have most valuable on earth to 
 your management, your conduct and language are those 
 of a mere Bedlamite. Last night 1 made allowance for 
 thy drunken fury ; but who can endure thy morning mad- 
 ness f — it is unsafe for thyself and me, Wildrake — it is 
 unkind — I might say ungrateful." 
 
 " Nay, do not say that, my friend," said the cavalier, 
 with some show of feeling ; " and do not judge of me 
 with a severity that cannot apply to such as 1 am. We 
 w4io have lost our all in these sad jars, v\ho are compell- 
 ed to shift for our living, not from day to day, but from 
 meal to meal — we whose only hiding-place is the jail, 
 whose prospect of final repose is the gallows, — what 
 can'st thou expect from us, but to bear such a lot with 
 a light heart, since we should break down under it with 
 a heavy one V
 
 94 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 This was spoken in a tone of feeling which found a 
 responding string in Everard's bosom. He took his 
 friend's hand, and pressed it kindly. 
 
 " Nay, if 1 seemed harsh to thee, Wildrake, I profess 
 it was for thine own sake more than mine. 1 know thou 
 hast at the bottom of thy levity, as deep a principle of 
 honour and feeling as ever governed a human heart. 
 But thou art thoughtless — thou art rash — and I protest 
 to thee, that wert thou to betray thyself in this matter in 
 which I trust thee, the evil consequences to myself would 
 not afflict me more than the thought of putting thee into 
 such danger." 
 
 " Nay, if you take it on that tone, Mark," said the 
 cavaher, making an effort to laugh, evidently that he 
 might conceal a tendency to a different emotion, " thou 
 wilt make children of us both — babes and sucklings, by 
 the hilt of this bilbo. — Come, trust me ; 1 can be cautious 
 when time requires it — no man ever saw me drink when 
 an alert was expected — and not one poor pint of wine 
 will I taste until I have managed this matter for thee. 
 Well, 1 am thy secretary — clerk — I had forgot — and car- 
 ry thy despatches to Cromwell, taking good heed not to 
 be surprised or choused out of my lump of loyalty, 
 (striking his finger on the packet,) and I am to deliver 
 it to the most loyal hands to which it is most humbly ad- 
 dressed — x\dzooks, Mark, think of it a moment longer 
 — Surely thou wilt not carry thy perverseness so far, as 
 to strike in with this bloody-minded rebel ? — Bid me 
 give him three inches of my dudgeon-dagger, and I will 
 do it much more willingly than present him with thy 
 packet." 
 
 " Go to," replied Everard, " this is beyond our bar- 
 gain. If you will help me, it is well ; if not, let me lose 
 no time in debating with thee, since 1 think every moment 
 an ag;e till the packet is in the GeneraPs possession. It 
 is the only way left me to obtain some protection, and a 
 place of refuge for my uncle and his daughter." 
 
 " That being the case," said the cavalier, "I will not 
 spare the spur. ]\ly nag up yonder at the town will be
 
 WOODSTOCK. 95 
 
 ready for the road In a trice, and thou mayst reckon on 
 my being with Old Noll — thy General 1 mean — in as 
 short time as man and horse may consume betwixt Wood- 
 stock and Windsor, where I think I shall for the present 
 find thy friend keeping possession where he has slain.'* 
 
 " Hush, not a word of that. Since we parted last 
 night, 1 have shaped thee a path which will suit thee 
 better than to assume the decency of language, and of 
 outward manner, of which thou hast so little. 1 have ac- 
 quainted the General that thou hast been by bad example 
 and bad education " 
 
 " Wliich is to be interpreted by contraries, I hope," 
 said Wildrake ; " for sure J have been as well born and 
 bred up as any lad of Leicestershire might desire." 
 
 " Now, 1 prithee hush — thou hast, 1 say, by bad ex- 
 ample become at one time a Malignant, and mixed in the 
 party of the late King. But seeing what things were 
 wrought in the nation by the General, thou hast come to 
 a clearness touching his calling to be a great implement 
 in the settlement of these distracted kingdoms. Ihis 
 account of thee will not only lead him to pass over some 
 of thy eccentricities, should they break out in spite of 
 thee, but will also give thee an interest with him as being 
 more especially attached to his own person." 
 
 "Doubtless," said Wildrake, "as every fisher loves 
 best the trouts that are of his own tickling." 
 
 " Ii is likely,! think, he will send thee hither with let- 
 ters to me," said the Colonel, " enabling me to put a 
 stop to the proceedings of these sequestrators, and to give 
 poor old Sir Henry Lee permission to linger out his days 
 among the oaks he loves to look upon. I have made it 
 my request to him, and 1 think my father's friendship 
 and my own may stretch so far on his regard without risk 
 of cracking, especially standing matters as they now do 
 — thou dost understand .f^" 
 
 " Entirely well," said the cavaljer ; " stretch, quotha ! 
 — I would rather stretch a rope than hold commerce with 
 the old King-killing ruffian. But 1 have said I will be 
 guided by thee, Markham, and rat me but I will."
 
 96 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Be cautious then," said Everard, " mark well what 
 he does and says — tnore especially what he does ; for 
 Oliver is one of those whose mind is better known by his 
 actions than by his words — and stay — 1 warrant thee 
 thou wert setting off without a cross in thy purse f " 
 
 *' Too true, Mark," said VVildrake, " the last noble 
 melted last night amongst yonder blackguard troopers of 
 yours." 
 
 *' VVell, Roger," replied the Colonel, " that is easily- 
 mended." So saying, he slipped his purse into his 
 friend's hand. " But art thou not an inconsequential 
 weather-brained fellow, to set fortli as thou wert about to 
 do without any thing to bear tliy charges — what couldst 
 thou have done ?" 
 
 " Faith, I never thought of that — 1 must have cried 
 Stand, I suppose, to the first pursy townsman, or greasy 
 grazier, that I met o' the heath — it is many a good fel- 
 low's shift in these bad times." 
 
 " Go to," said Everard ; "be cautious — use none of 
 your loose acquaintance — rule your tongue — beware of 
 the wine-pot — for there is hitle danger if thou couldst 
 only but keep thyself sober — Be moderate in speech, 
 and forbear oaths of vaunting." 
 
 " In short, metamorphose myself, into such a prig as 
 thou art, Mark. — Well," said VVildrake, " so far as out- 
 side will go, I think I can make a Hope-on-high Bomby* 
 as well as thou canst. Ah ! those were merry days when 
 we saw Mills present Bomby at the Fortune play-house, 
 Mark, ere I had lost my laced cloak and the jewel in 
 my ear, or thou hadst gotten the wrinkle on thy brow, 
 and the puritanic twist of thy mustachio !" 
 
 "They were like most worldly pleasures, Wildrake," 
 replied Everard, " sweet in the mouth and bitter in 
 digestion. — But away with thee ; and when thou bring'st 
 back my answer, thou wilt find me either here or at Saint 
 George's Inn, at the little borough. — Good luck to thee 
 — Be but cautious how thou bearest thyself." 
 
 * A oaritanic character in one of Beauniont and Fletcher's plays.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 97 
 
 The Colonel remained in deep meditation. — *' I think," 
 he said, " I have not pledged mysell too lar to the Gen- 
 eral. A breach between him and the Parliament seems 
 inevitable, and would throw England back into civil war, 
 of which all men are wearied. He may dislike my mes- 
 senger — yet that 1 do not greatly fear. He knows I 
 would choose such as I can myself depend on, and hath 
 dealt enou2:h witli the stricter sort to be aware that there 
 are among tliem, as well as elsewhere, men who can 
 hide two faces under one hood." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 For there in lofty air was seen to stand 
 The stern Protector of tlie conquer'd land ; 
 Drawn in that look with which he wept and swore, ' 
 Turn'd out the members, and made fast the door, 
 Ridding the house of every knave and drone, 
 Forced — though it griev'd his soul — to rule alone. 
 
 The Frank Courtship — Crab BE. 
 
 Leaving Colonel Everard to his meditations, we fol- 
 low the jolly cavalier, his companion, who, before mount- 
 ing at the George, did not fail to tieat himself to his morn- 
 ing-draught of eggs and muscadine, to enable him to face 
 the harvest wind. 
 
 Although he had suffered himself to be sunk in the 
 extravagant license which was practised by the cavaliers, 
 as if to oppose their conduct in every point to the pre- 
 ciseness of their enemies, yet Wildrake, well born and 
 well-educated, and endowed with good natural parts, and 
 a heart which even debauchery, and the wild life of a 
 roaring cavalier, had not been able entirely to corrupt, 
 moved on his present embassy with a strange mixture of 
 
 9 VOL. I.
 
 98 >VO(>D STOCK. 
 
 feelings, such as perhaps he had never in his Hfe before 
 experienced. 
 
 His feelings as a royalist led him to detest Cromwell, 
 whom in other circumstances he would scarce have wish- 
 ed to see, except in a held of battle, where he could have 
 had the pleasure to exchange pistol-shots witii him. But 
 with this hatred there was mixed a certain degree of 
 fear. Always victorious wherever he I'ought, the re- 
 markable person whom Wildrake was now approaching 
 had acquired that influence over the minds of his ene- 
 mies, which constant success is so apt to inspire — they 
 dreaded while they hated him — and joined to these feel- 
 ings, was a restless meddling curiosity, vvhicli made a 
 particular feature in Wildrake's character, who, having 
 long had little business of his own, and caring nothing 
 about that which he had, was easily attracted by tbe de- 
 sire of seeing whatever was curious or interesting around 
 him. 
 
 " I should like to see the old rascal after all," he said, 
 " were it but to say that I had seen him." 
 
 He reached Windsor in the afternoon, and felt on his 
 arrival the strongest inclination to take up his residence 
 at some of his old haunts, when he had occasionally fre- 
 quented that fair town in gayer days. But resisting all 
 temptations of this kind, he went courageously to the 
 principal inn, from which its ancient emblem, the Garter 
 had long disappeared. The master, too, whom Wild- 
 rake, experienced in his knowledge of landlords, and 
 hostelries, had remejnbered a dashing Mine Host of 
 Queen Bess's school, had now sobered down to the tem- 
 per of the times, shook his head when he spoke of the 
 Parliament, wielded his spigot with the gravity of a priest 
 conducting a sacrifice, wished England a happy issue out 
 of all her afflictions, and greatly lauded his Excellency 
 the Lord General. Wildrake also remarked, that his 
 wine was better than it was wont to be, the Puritans 
 having an excellent gift at detecting every fallacy in that 
 matter ; and that his measures were less, and his charges
 
 WOODSTOCK. 99 
 
 larger — circumstances which he was induced to attend 
 to, by mine host talking a good deal about his conscience. 
 
 He was told by this important personage, that the Lord 
 General received frankly all sorts of persons ; and that 
 he might obtain access to him next morning, at eight 
 o'clock, for the trouble of presenting himself at the castle 
 gate, and announcing himself as the bearer of despatches 
 to his Excellency. 
 
 To the castle, the disguised cavalier repaired at the 
 hour appointed. Admittance was freely permitted to 
 IKm by the red-coated soldier, who with austere looks, 
 and his musket on his shoulder, mounted guard at the 
 external gate of that noble building. Wildrake passed 
 through the under-ward or court, gazing as he passed 
 upon the beautiful Chapel, which had but lately received 
 in darkness and silence, the unhonoured remains of the 
 slaughtered King of England. Rough as Wildrake was, 
 the recollection of this circumstance affected him so 
 strongly, that he had nearly turned back in a sort of hor- 
 ror, rather than face the dark and daring man, to whom, 
 amonsjst all the actors in that melancholy affair, its tragic 
 conclusion was chiefly to be imputed. But he felt the 
 necessity of subduing all sentiments of this nature, and 
 compelled himself to proceed in a negotiation intrusted 
 to his conduct by one to whom he was so much obliged 
 as Colonel Everard. At the ascent, which passed by 
 the Round Tower, he looked to the ensign-staff, from 
 which the banner of England was wont to float. It was 
 gone with all its rich emblazonry, its gorgeous quarter- 
 ings, and splendid embroidery ; and in its room waved 
 that of the Commonwealth, the cross of Saint George, 
 in its colours of blue and red, not yet intersected by the 
 diagonal cross of Scotland, which was soon after assum- 
 ed in evidence of England's conquest over her ancient 
 enemy. This change of ensigns increased the train of 
 his gloomy reflections, in which, although coritrary to his 
 wont, he became so deeply wrapped, that the first thing 
 which recalled him to hiniself, was the challenge from 
 the sentinel, accompanied with a stroke of the butt of his
 
 100 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 musket on the pavement with an emphasis which made 
 Wildrake start. 
 
 *' Whither away, and who are you f" 
 
 *' The hearer ol' a packet," answered Wildrake, " to 
 the worshipful the Lord General." 
 
 " Stand till 1 call the officer of the guard." 
 
 The corporal made his appearance, distinguished above 
 those of his command by a double quantity of band round 
 his neck, a dpuble height of steeple-crowned hat, a larger 
 allowance of cloak, and a treble proportion of sour graviu^ 
 of aspect. It might be read on his countenance, that Mv 
 was one of those tremendous enthusiasts to w^iom Oliver 
 owed his conquests, whose religious zeal made them 
 even more than a match for the high-spirited and high- 
 born cavaliers, who exhausted their valour in vain defence 
 of their sovereign's person and crown. He looked with 
 grave solemnity at Wildrake, as if he was making in his 
 own mind an inventory of his features and dress ; and 
 having fully perused them, he required, " to know his 
 business." 
 
 " My business," said Wildrake, as firmly as he could 
 - — for the close investigation of this man had given him 
 some unpleasant nervous sensations — " my business is 
 with your General." 
 
 " With his Excellency the Lord General, thou w'ould'st 
 say .^" replied the corporal. " Thy speech, my friend, 
 savours too little of the reverence due to his Excellency," 
 
 *' D — n his Excellency," was at the lips of the cava- 
 lier ; but prudence kept guard, and permitted not the 
 offensive words to escape the barrier. He only bowed, 
 and was silent. 
 
 *' Follow me," said the starched figure wiiom he ad- 
 dressed ; and Wildrake followed him accordingly into 
 the guard-house, vvhich exhibited an interior characteris-* 
 tic of the times, and very different from w4iat such mili- 
 tary stations present at the present day. 
 
 By the fire sat two or three musketeers, listening to 
 one vvlio was expounding some religious mystery to them. 
 He began half beneath his breath, but in tones of great
 
 WOODSTOCK. J 01 
 
 volubility, which tones, as he approached the conclusion, 
 became sharp and eager, as challenging either instant 
 answer or silent acquiescence. The audience seemed 
 to listen to the speaker with immoveable features, only 
 answering him with clouds of tobacco-smoke, which they 
 rolled from under iheir thick mustachios. On a bench 
 lay a soldier on his face ; whether asleep, or in a fit of 
 contemplation, it was impossible to decide. In the midst 
 of the floor stood an officer as he seemed by his embroid- 
 ered shoulder-belt and scarf round his waist, other\^-ise 
 very plainly attired, who was engaged in drilling a stout 
 bumpkin, lately enlisted, to the manual, as it was then 
 used. The motions and words of command were twenty 
 at the very least ; and until they were regularly brought 
 to an end, the corporal did not permit Wild rake either 
 to sit down or move forward beyond the threshold of the 
 guard-house. So he had to listen in succession to — 
 Poize- your musket — Rest your musket — Cock youj- 
 musket — Handle your primers — and many other forgot- 
 ten words of discipline, until at length the words, •' Or- 
 der your musket," ended the drill for the time. 
 
 " Thy name, friend f" said the officer to the recruit, 
 when the lesson was over. 
 
 " Ephraim," answered the fellow with an affected 
 twang through the nose. 
 
 " And what besides Ephrairii f" 
 
 *• Ephraim Cobb, from the godly city of Gloucester, 
 where I have dwelt, for seven years, serving apprentice 
 to a praise-worthy cordwainer.'* 
 
 " It is a goodly craft," answered the officer ; '• but 
 casting in thy lot with ours, doubt not that thou shah be 
 set beyond thine awl, and thy last to boot." 
 
 A grim smile of the speaker accompanied this poor 
 attempt at a pim 5 and then turning round to the corpo- 
 ra), who stood two paces off, with the face of one who 
 seemed desirous of speaking, said, " How now, corporal, 
 what tidings ?" 
 
 9* VOL. u
 
 102 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Here is one with a packet, and please your Excel- 
 lency," said the corporal — " Surely my spirit does not 
 rejoice in him, seeing 1 esteem him as a wolf in slieep's 
 clothing." 
 
 By these words, Wildrake learned that he was in the 
 actual presence of the remarkable person to whom he was 
 commissioned ; and he paused to consider in what man- 
 ner he ought to address him. 
 
 The figure of Oliver Cromwell was, as is generally 
 known, in no way prepossessing. He was of middle 
 stature, strongly and coarsely made, with harsh and se- 
 vere features, indicative, however, of much natural sa- 
 gacity and depth of thought. His eyes were grey and 
 piercing ; his nose too large in proportion to his other 
 features. 
 
 His manner of speaking, when he had the purpose to 
 make himself distinctly understood, was energetic and 
 forcible, though neither graceful nor eloquent. No man 
 could on such occasion put his meaning into fewer and 
 more decisive words. But when, as it often happened, 
 he had a mind to play the orator, for the benefit of peo- 
 ple's ears, without enlightening their understanding, 
 Cromwell was wont to invest his meaning, or that which 
 seemed to be his meaning, in such a mist of words, sur- 
 roundins: it with so many exclusions and exceptions, and 
 fortifying it with such a labyrinth of parentheses, that 
 though one of the most shrewd men in England, he was, 
 perhaps, the most unintelligible speaker that ever per- 
 plexed an audience. It has been long since said by the 
 historian, that a collection of the Protector's speeches 
 would make, with a (ew exceptions, the most nonsensi- 
 cal book in the world ; but he ought to have added, that 
 nothing could be more nervous, concise, and intelligible, 
 than what he really intended should be understood. 
 
 It was also remarked of Cromwell, that though born 
 of a good family, both by father and mother, and although 
 he had the usual opportunities of education and breeding 
 connected with such an advantage ; the fanatic demo- 
 cratic ruler could never acquire, or else disdained to
 
 WOODSTOCK. 103 
 
 practise, the courtesies usually exercised among the high- 
 er classes in their intercourse with each other. His de- 
 meanour was so blunt as sometimes might be termed 
 clownish, yet there was in his language and manner a 
 force and energy corresponding to his character, which 
 impressed awe, if it did not impose respect ; and there 
 were even times when that dark and subtle spirit expand- 
 ed itself, so as almost to conciliate affection. The turn 
 for humour, which displayed itself by fits, was broad ; 
 and of low and sometimes practical character. Some- 
 thing there was in his disposition congenial to that of his 
 countrymen ; a contempt of folly, a hatred of affectation, 
 and a dislike of ceremony which, joined to the strong 
 intrinsic qualities of sense and courage, made him in 
 many respects not an unfit representative of the demo- 
 cracy of England. 
 
 His religion must always be a subject of much doubt, 
 and probably of doubt which he himself could hardly 
 have cleared up. Unquestionably there was a time in 
 his life when he was sincerely enthusiastic, and when his 
 natural temper, slightly subject to hypochondria was 
 strongly agitated by the same fanaticism which influenc- 
 ed so many persons of the time. On the other hand, 
 there were periods during his political career \\hen, we 
 certainly do him no injustice in charging him with hyp- 
 ocritical affectation. We shall probably judge him, and 
 others of the same age, most truly, if we suppose that 
 their religious professions were partly influential in their 
 own breast, partly assmned in compliance with their own 
 interest. And so ingenious is the human heart in de- 
 ceiving itself as well as others, that it is probable neither 
 Cromwell himself, nor those making similar pretensions 
 to distinguished piety, could exactly have fixed the point 
 at which their enihusiasm terminated and their hypocrisy 
 commenced, or rather, it was a point not fixed in itself, 
 but fluctuatine: with the state of health, of good or bad 
 fortune, of high or low spirits, affecting the individual at 
 the period.
 
 104 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Such was the celebrated person, who, turning round 
 on Wildrake, and scanning his countenance closely, 
 seemed so little satisfied with what he beheld, that he in- 
 stinctively hitciied forward his belt, so as to bring the 
 handle of his tuck sword within his reach. But yet, 
 folding his arms in his cloak, as if upon second thoughts 
 laying aside suspicion, or thinking precaution beneath 
 him, he asked the cavalier what he was, and whence he 
 came ? 
 
 " A poor gentleman, sir, — that is, my lord," — answer- 
 ed Wildrake ; " last from Woodstock." 
 
 " And what may your tidings be, sir gentleman V said 
 Cromwell, with an emphasis. " Truly I have seen those 
 most willing to take upon them that title, bear themselves 
 somewhat short of wise men, and good men, and true 
 men, with all their gentility : Yet gentleman was a good 
 title in old England, when men remembered what it was 
 construed to mean." 
 
 " You say truly, sir," replied Wildrake, suppressing, 
 with difficulty, some of his usual wild expletives ; " for- 
 merly gentlemen were found in gentlemen's places, but 
 now the world is so changed, that you shall find the broi- 
 dered belt has changed place with the under spur- 
 leather." 
 
 " Say'st thou me ?" said the General ; '• I profess thou 
 art a bold companion, that can bandy words so wantonly ; 
 — thou ring'st somewhat too loud to be good metal, me- 
 thinks : And, once again, what are thy tidings with me V^ 
 
 "Tliis packet," said Wildrake, "commended to your 
 hands by Colonel Markham Everard." 
 
 " Alas, I must have mistaken thee," answered Crom- 
 well, mollified at the mention of a man's name whom he 
 had great desire to make his own ; " forgive us, good 
 friend, for such, we doubt not, thou art. Sit thee down, 
 and commune with thyself as thou mayst, until we have 
 examined the contents of thy packet. Let liim be looked 
 to, and have what he lacks." So saying the General left 
 the guard-house, where Wildrake took his seat in the 
 corner, and awaited with patience the issue of his mission.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 105 
 
 The soldiers now thought themselves obliged to treat 
 him with luore consideration, and offered him a pipe of 
 Trinidadoe, and a black jack filled with October. But 
 the look of Cromwell, and the dangerous situation in 
 whicli he mis^ht be plncefl by the least chance of detec- 
 tion, induced VVildrake to decline these hospitable ofiers, 
 and stretching back in his chair, and affecting slumber, 
 he escaped notice or conversation, until a sort of aid-de- 
 camp, or military officer in attendance, came to summon 
 him to Cromwell's presence. 
 
 Bv this person he was guided to a postern -gate, through 
 which he entered the body of the Castle, and penetrating 
 through many private passages and stair-cases, he at 
 length was introduced into a small cabinet, or parlour, in 
 which was much rich furniture, some bearing the royal 
 cipher displayed, but all confused and disarranged, to- 
 gether with several paintings in massive irrmes, having 
 their faces turned towards the wall, as if they had been 
 taken down for the puipose of being removed. 
 
 In this scene of disorder, the victorious General of the 
 Commonwealth was seated in a large easy-chair, cover- 
 ed with damask, and deeply embroidered, the s|)lendour 
 of which made a strong contrast with the plain, and even 
 homely character of his apparel ; although in look and 
 action he seemed like one who felt that the seat which 
 might have in former days held a Prince, was not too 
 much distinguished for his own fortunes and ambition. 
 Wildrake stood before him, nor did he ask him to sit 
 down. 
 
 " Pearson," said Cromwell, addressing himself to the 
 officer in attendance, " wait in the gallery, but be within 
 call." Pearson bowed, and was retiring. " Who are in 
 the gallery besides f" 
 
 " Worthy Mr. Gordon the chapinin vvr.s holding forth 
 but now to Colonel Overton, and four captains of your 
 Excellency's regiment." 
 
 " We would have it so," said the General ; " we 
 would not there were any corner in our dwelling where
 
 106 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 the hungry soul might not meet with manna. Was the 
 good .ndi) carried onward in his discourse f" 
 
 " Mightily borne through," said Pearson ; " and he 
 was touching the rightful claims which the army, and 
 especially your Excellency, hath acquired, by becoming 
 the instruments in the great work ; — not instruments to 
 be broken asunder and cast away when the day of their 
 service is over, but to be preserved, and held precious 
 and prized for their honourable and faithful labours, for 
 which they have fought and marched, and fasted, and 
 "prayed, and suffered cold and sorrow ; while others, who 
 would now gladly see them disbanded, and broken, and 
 cashiered, eat of the fat, and drink of the strong." 
 
 " Ah, good man !" said Cromwell, " and did he touch 
 upon this so feelin2;ly ? I could say something — but not 
 now. Begone, Pearson, to the gallery. Let not our 
 friends lay aside their swords, but watch as well as pray." 
 
 Pearson retired ; and the General, holding the letter 
 of Everard in his hand, looked again for a long while 
 fixedly at Wildrake, as if considering in what strain he 
 should address him. 
 
 When he did speak, it was, at first, in one of those am- 
 biguous discourses which we have already described, and 
 by which it was very difficult for any one to understand 
 his meaning, if, indeed, he knew it himself. We shall 
 be as concise in our statement, as our desire to give the 
 very words of a man so extraordinary will permit. 
 
 " This letter," he said, "you have brought us from 
 your master, or patron, Markham Everard ; truly an ex- 
 cellent and honourable gentleman as ever bore a sword 
 upon his thigh, and one who hath ever distinguished him- 
 self in the great work of delivering these three poor 
 and unhappy nations. — Answer me not : 1 know what 
 thou would'st say. — And this le'uer he hath sent to me 
 by thee, his clerk, or secretary, in whom he hath confi- 
 dence, and in whom he prays me to have trust, that 
 there may be a careful messenger between us. And 
 lastly, he hath sent thee to me — Do not answer — T know 
 what thou would'st say, — to me, vi^ho albeit I am of that
 
 >yOOD STOCK. 
 
 107 
 
 small consideration, that it would be too much honour for 
 me even to bear a halbert in this great and victorious 
 army ol Engiland, am nevertheless exaJled to the rank of 
 holding tlie guidance and the ieading-staft' thereot. — Nay, 
 do not answer, my triend — 1 know what thou wouid'st 
 say. — Now, when connnuning thus togetlier, our dis- 
 course taketh, in respect to what 1 have said, a thieetold 
 argument, or division : First, as it concernelh thy mas- 
 ter ; secondly, as it concerneth us and our office ; thirdly 
 and lastly, as it toucheth thyself. Now, as concerning 
 this good and worthy gentleman, Colonel Markliam Ev- 
 erard, truly he hath played tlie man from the beginning 
 of these unhappy bufi'etmgs, not turning to the ri^ljt or 
 to the left, but holding ever in his eye the mark at which 
 he aimed. Ay, truly, a faithful honourable geniltmaii, 
 and one who [nay well call me friend ; and truly I am 
 pleased to think that he doth so. Nevertheless, in this 
 vale of tears, we must be governed less by our private 
 respects and partialities, than by those higber principles 
 and points of duty, whereupon the good Colonel Aiark- 
 ham Everard hath ever framed his purposes, as, truly, I 
 have endeavoured to form mine, that we may all act as 
 becometh good Eng^shmen and worthy patriots. II, en, 
 as for Woodstock, it is a great thing which the good Col- 
 onel asks, that it should be taken from the spoil of the 
 godly, and left in keeping of the men of JMoab, and es- 
 pecially of the malignant, Henry Lee, whose hand hath 
 been ever against us when he n)ight find loom to raise it ; 
 I say, he hath asked a great thing, both in respect of 
 himself and me. For we of this poor but godly army of 
 England, are holden, by tJiese of the Parliament, as men 
 who should render in si)6il i9r them, but be no sharer of 
 it ourselves ; even as the buck, which the hounds pull to 
 earth, furnish no part of their food, but they are lashed 
 off from the carcass with whips, like those which require 
 punishment for their forwardness not reward for their 
 services. Yet I speak not this so much in lespect of this 
 grant of Woodstock, in regard that, perhaps, their Lord- 
 ships of the Council, and also the Conmiittee-njen of this
 
 108 AVOODSTOCK. 
 
 Parliament, may graciously think they have given me a 
 portion in the matter, in relation that my kinsman Des- 
 borough hath an interest allowed him ihtrein ; which in- 
 terest, as he hath well deserved it for his true and faith- 
 ful service to tliese unha[)py and devoted countries, so it 
 will ill become me to dinnnishlhe same to his prejudice, 
 unless it were upon great and public respects. Thus 
 thou seest how it stands with me, my honest friend, and 
 in what mind 1 stand touching this thy master's request 
 to me ; which yet I do not say that I can altogether, or 
 unconditionally, grant or refuse, but only tell my simple 
 thouo;hts with regard thereto. Thou understandest me, 
 I doubt not r" 
 
 Now, Rosier Wildrake, with all the attention he had 
 been able to pay to the Lord General's speech, had got 
 so much confused among the various clauses of the ha- 
 rangue, that his brain was bewildered, like that of a coun- 
 try clown when he chances to get himself involved aiuong 
 a crowd of carriages, and cannot stir a step to get out of 
 the way of one of them, without being in danger of being 
 ridden over by the others. 
 
 The General saw his look of perplexity, and began 
 a new oration, to the same purpose as before ; — spoke of 
 his love for his kind friend the Colonel, — his regard for 
 his pious and godly kinsman. Master Desborougb, — the 
 great importance of the palace and Park of Woodstock, 
 — the determination of the Parliament that it should be 
 confiscated, and the produce brought into the coffers of 
 the state, — his own deep veneration for the authority of 
 Parliament, and his no less deep sense of the injustice 
 done to the army, — how it was his wish and will that all 
 matters should be settled in an amicable and friendly 
 manner without self-seeking, debate, or strife, betwixt 
 those who had been the hands acting, and such as had 
 been the heads governing, in that great national cause, — 
 how he was willins;, truly willing, to contribute to this 
 work, by laying down, not his commission only, but his 
 life also, if it were requested of hicn, or could be granted 
 with safety to the poor soldiers, to whom, silly poor men,
 
 WOODSTOCK. 109 
 
 he was bound to be as a father, seeing thai they had fol- 
 lowed liiin with the duty and affection of cbiJdjen. 
 
 And here lie arrived ui another dead pause, leaving 
 Wi, drake as uncertain as belore, wlielher it was (^r was 
 not Ins purpose to grant Colonel Everard the poweis he 
 had asked lor the piotection of Woodstock against the 
 Parliamentary Con»inissioners. Internally he began to 
 entertain liopes that the justice of Heaven, or the effects 
 of remorse, had confounded the regicide's undei stand- 
 ing. — But no — he could see nothing but sngacily in that 
 steady stern eye, which, while the tongue poujed lorth 
 its periphrastic language in such profusion, seemed to 
 watch with severe accuracy the effect which his oratory 
 produced on the listener. 
 
 " Egad," thought the cavalier to himself, becoming 
 a little familiar with the situation in whidi he was phiced, 
 and rather impatient of a cf)nversalion which led to no 
 visible conclusion or termination, " if Noll were the devil 
 himself, as he is the devil's darling, 1 will not be thus 
 nose-led by him. I'll e'en brusque it a little, if he goes 
 on at this rate, and try if I can bring him to a more in- 
 telligible mode of speaking." 
 
 Entertaining this bold pm pose, but half afraid to exe- 
 cute it, VVildrake lay by for an opportimity of tnaking the 
 attempt, while Cromwell was apparently unable to ex- 
 press his own meaniiis:. He was already beginning a 
 third panegyric upon Colonel Everard, with sundty varied 
 exp essions of his ow n w ish to oblige him, when Wi'drake 
 took the oppoi lunity of a pause to strike in, on the Gen- 
 eral's making one of his oratorical pauses. 
 
 *' So please you," he said, bluntly, " your worship has 
 already spoken on two topics of yom- discourse, vour 
 own worthiness, and that of my master. Colonel Everard. 
 But, to enable me to do mine errand, it would be neces- 
 sary to bestow a ^e\v words on the third head." 
 
 "The third !" said Cromwell. 
 
 " Ay," said Wildrake, "which, in your honour's sub- 
 division of your discourse, touched on my unworthy self. 
 
 10 VOL. I.
 
 no 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 What am I to do — what portion am I to have in this 
 matter ?" 
 
 Oliver started at once from the tone of voice he had 
 hitherto used, and wljich soinewhut resembled the purring 
 of a domestic cat, into the growl of the tiger when about 
 to spring. " Thy portion, jail-bird !" he exclaimed, 
 " the grillows — thou siialt hang as high as Haman, if thou 
 betray counsel ! — But," he added, soitening his voice, 
 " keep it like a true man, and my favour will be the mak- 
 ing of thee. Come hither — thou art bold, I see, though 
 somewhat saucy. Thou hast been a malignant — so wiites 
 my wortliy friend Colonel Everard ; but thou hast now 
 given up that falling cause. I tell thee, friend, not all 
 that the P.irliamont or ilie army could do would have 
 pulled dow^n the Stuarts out of their high places, saving 
 that Heaven had a controversy with them. Well, it is a 
 sweet and comely thing to buckle on one's armour in be- 
 half of Heaven's cause ; otlierw^ise truly, for mine own 
 pirt, these men migiit have remained upon the throne 
 eVen unto this day. Neither do I blame any for aiding 
 them, until these successive great judgments have over- 
 whelmed them and their house. . I am not a bloody man, 
 having in me the feeling of human frailty ; but, fiiend, 
 v/hosoever putteth his hand to the plough, in the great 
 actings wliich are now on foot in these nations, had best 
 beware that they do not look back ; for, rely upon my 
 simple word, that if you fail me, I will not spare on you 
 one foot's length of the gallows of Haman. Let me 
 therefore know, at a w^ord, if the leaven of thy mahg- 
 nancy is altogether drubbed out of thee f" 
 
 " Vour honourable lordship," said the cavalier, shrug- 
 ging up his shoulders, " has done that for most of us, so 
 far as cudgelling to some tune can perform it." 
 
 *' Say'st thou ?" said the General, w^ith a grim smile 
 on his lip, which seemed to intimate that he was not quite 
 inaccessible to flattery ; " yea, truly, thou dost not lie in 
 that — we have been an instrument. Neither are we, as 
 I have already hinted, so severely bent against those who 
 have striven against us as malignants, as others may be.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The Parliament-men best know their own interest and 
 their ovvh pleasure ; but, to my poor tliinking, it is full 
 time to close these jars, and to allow men of all kinds 
 the means of doing service to their country ; and we think 
 it will be thy fault if thou art not employed to good pur- 
 pose for the stale and thyself, on condition thou puttest 
 away the old man entirely from thee, and givest thy 
 earnest attention to what 1 have to tell thee." 
 
 " Your lordship need not doubt my attention," said the 
 cavalier. 
 
 And the republican General, after another pause, as 
 one who gave his confidence not without hesitation, pro- 
 ceeded to explain his vievvs with a distinctness which he 
 seldom used, yet not without his being a little biassed 
 now and then, by his long habits of circumlocution, which 
 indeed he seldom laid entirely aside, save in the field of 
 battle. 
 
 " Thou seest," he said, " my friend, how things stand 
 with me. The Parliament, T care not who knows it, 
 love me not — still less do the Council of State, by whom 
 they manage the executive government of the kingdom. 
 I cannot tell why they nourish suspicion against me, un- 
 less it is because I will not deliver this poor innocent 
 army, which has followed ine in so many military actions, 
 to be now pulled asunder, broken piece-meal and re- 
 duced, so that they who have protected the state at the 
 expense of their blood, will not have, perchance, the 
 means of feeding themselves by their labour ; which, me- 
 thinks, were hard measure, since it is taking from Esau 
 his birth-right even without giving him a poor mess of 
 pottage." 
 
 " Esau is likely to help himself, I think," replied 
 Wildrake. 
 
 " Truly, thou say'st wisely," replied the General ; " it 
 is ill starving an armed man, if there is food to be had 
 for taking — nevertheless, far be it from me to encourage 
 rebellion, or want of due subordination to these our rulers. 
 I would only petition in a due and becoming, a sweet and 
 harmonious manner, that they would listen to our condi-
 
 112 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 tions, and consider our necessities. But, sir, looking on 
 me, and esteemina; me so little as they do, you must tiiink 
 that it would be a provocation m me towards the Council 
 of State, PS well as the Parliament, if, simply to gratify 
 your worthy master, 1 were to act contrary to their pur- 
 poses, or deny currency to the commission under their 
 authority, which is as yet the highest in the State — and 
 long may it be so for rne ! — to carry on tlie sequestration 
 which they intend. And would it not also be said, that 
 I was lending myself to the malignant interest, affording 
 this den of the blood-thirsty and lascivious tyrants of yore, 
 to be in this our day a place of refuge to that old and 
 inveterate Amalekite Sir Henry Lee, to keep possession 
 of the place in which he hath so long glorified liimself ? 
 Truly, it would be a perilous matter." 
 
 " Am I then to report," said Wildrake, " an if it please, 
 you, that you cannot stead Colonel Everard in this mat- 
 ter ?" 
 
 " Unconditionally, ay — but, taken conditionally, the 
 answer may be otherwise," — answered Cromwell. *' I 
 see thou art not able to fathom my purpose, and there- 
 fore I will partly unfold it to thee. — But take notice, that 
 should thy tongue betray my council, save in so far as 
 carrying it to thy master, by all the blood which has 
 been shed in these wild times, thou shalt die a thousand 
 deaths in one !" 
 
 " Do not fear me, sir," said Wildrake, whose natural 
 boldnes«! and carelessness of character was for the present 
 time borne down and quelled, like that of falcons m the 
 presence of the eagle. 
 
 " Hear me, then," said Cromwell, " and let no syllable 
 escape thee. Knowest thou not the young Lee whom 
 they call Albert, a malignant like his fath'er, and one who 
 went up with the young man to that last ruffle which we 
 had with him at Worcester ? — May we be grateful for 
 the victory !" 
 
 " 1 know there is such a young gentleman as Albert 
 Lee," said Wildrake,
 
 WOODSTOCK. 113 
 
 " And knowest thou not — I speak not by way of pry- 
 ing into the good Colonel's secrets, but only as it behoves 
 me to know something of the matter that I may best 
 judge how I am to serve him — Knowest thou not that thy 
 master, ^larkham Everard, is a suitor after the sister of 
 this same malignant, a daughter of the old Keeper, called 
 Sir Henry Lee r" 
 
 " All this I have heard," said Wildrake, " nor can I 
 deny that 1 believe in it." 
 
 " Well then, go to. — When the young man Charles 
 Stuart fled from the field of Worcester, and was by sharp 
 chase and pursuit compelled to separate himself from his 
 followers, 1 know by sure intelligence that this Albert Lee 
 was one of the last who remained with him, if not indeed 
 the very last." 
 
 " It was devilish like him," said the cavalier, without 
 sufficiently weighing his expressions, considering in what 
 presence they were to be uttered — " And I'll uphold him 
 with my rapier, to be a true chip of the old block." 
 
 "Ha, swearest thou ?" said the General. "Is this 
 thy reformation r" 
 
 " I never swear, so please you," replied Wildrake, 
 recollecting himself, " except there is some mention of 
 malignants and cavaliers in my hearing ; and then the old 
 habit returns, and I swear like one of Goring's troopers." 
 
 " Out upon thee," said the General ; " what can it 
 avail thee to practise a profanity so horrible to the ears of 
 others, and which brings no emolument to him who 
 uses it .'^" 
 
 " There are doubtless more profitable sins in the 
 world than the vice of swearing,'* was the answer which 
 rose to the lips of the cavalier; but that was exchanged 
 for a profession of regret for having given oflence. The 
 truth was, the discourse began to take a turn which ren- 
 dered it more interesting than ever to Wildrake, who 
 therefore detprniined not to lose the opportunity for ob- 
 tainins: possession of the secret that seemed to be sus- 
 
 10* VOL. I.
 
 114 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 pended on Cromwell's lips ; and that could only be 
 through means of keeping guard upon his own. 
 
 " What sort of a house is Woodstock ?" said the Gen- 
 eral abruptly. 
 
 " An old mansion," said Wildrake in reply ; " and so 
 far as 1 could judge by a single night's lodgings, having 
 abundance of back stairs, also subterranean passages, and 
 all the communications under ground, which are common 
 in old raven-nests of the sort." 
 
 " And places for concealing priests unquestionably,'* 
 said Cromwell. "It is seldom that such ancient houses 
 lack secret stalls wherein to mew up these calves of 
 Bethel." 
 
 " Your Honour's Excellency," said Wildrake, " may 
 swear to tliat." 
 
 " I swear not at all," — replied the General drily. — 
 *' But what think'st thou, good fellow ? — I will ask thee 
 a blunt question — Where will those two Worcester fugi- 
 tives that thou wottest of be more likely to take shelter 
 • — and that tliey must be sheltered somewhere, I well 
 know — than in this same old palace, with all the corners 
 and concealments, whereof young Albert hath been ac- 
 quainted ever since his earliest infancy ?" 
 
 " Truly," said Wildrake, making an effort to answer 
 the question with seeming indifference, while the possi- 
 bility of such an event, and its consequences, flashed 
 fearfully upon his mind, — " Truly, I should be of your 
 honour's opinion, but that I think the company, who, by 
 the commission of Parliament, have occupied Wood- 
 stock, are likely to fright them thence, as a cat scares 
 doves from a pigeon-house. The neighbourhood, with 
 reverence, of Generals Desborough and Harrison, will 
 suit ill with fugitives from Worcester-field." 
 
 " I thought as much, and so, indeed, would I have it," 
 answered the General. " Long may it be ere our names 
 shall be aught but a terror to our enemies : But in this 
 matter, if thou art an active plotter for thy master's inter- 
 est, thou might'st, I should think, workout something fa- 
 vourable to his present object."
 
 WOODSTOCIv. li-> 
 
 '* My brain is too poor to reach the depth of your hon- 
 ourable purpose," said Wildrake. 
 
 *' Listen then, and let it be to profit," answered Crom- 
 well. " Assuredly the conquest at Worcester was a great 
 and crowning mercy ; yet might we seem to be but small 
 in our thankfulness for the same, did we not do what in 
 us lies towards the ultimate improvement and final con- 
 clusion of the great work which has been thus prosperous 
 in our hands, professing, in pure humility and singleness 
 of heart, that we do not, in any way, desire our instru- 
 mentality to be remembered, nay, would rather pray and 
 entreat, that our name and fortunes were forgotten, than 
 that the great work were in itself incomplete. Never- 
 
 theless, truly, placed as we now are, it concerns us more 
 nearly than others, — that is, if so poor creatures should 
 at all speak of themselves us concerned, whether more 
 or less, with these changes which have been wTought 
 around, not, I say, by ourselves, or our own power, but 
 by the destiny, to which we were called, fulfilling the 
 same with all meekness and humility — I say it concerns 
 us nearly that all things should be done in conformity 
 with the great work which hath been wrought, and is yet 
 working, in these lands. Such is my plain and simple 
 meaning. Nevertheless, it is much to be desired that this 
 young man, this king of Scots, as he called himself — this 
 Charles Stuart — should not escape forth from the nation, 
 where his arrival has wrought so much disturbance and 
 bloodshed." 
 
 " I have no doubt," said the cavalier, looking down, 
 "that your lordship's wisdom hath directed all things as 
 they may best lead towards such a consummation ; and 
 I pray your pains may be paid as they deserve." 
 
 " I thank thee, friend," said Cromwell, with much 
 humility ; " doubtless we shall meet our reward, being 
 in the hands of a good paymaster, who never passeth 
 Saturday ni^ht. But understand me, friend — I desire 
 no more than my own sfiare in the good work. 1 would 
 heartily do what poor kindness T can to your worthy 
 master, and even to you in your degree — for such as I
 
 116 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 do not converse with ordinary men, that our presrnce 
 may be forgotten hke an every-day's occurrence. We 
 speak to men hke thee for their reward or their punish- 
 ment ; and I trust it will be the former which thou in thine 
 office wilt merit at my hand." 
 
 " Your honor," said Wildrake, " speaks like one ac- 
 customed to conmiand." 
 
 " True ; men's minds are likened to those of my de- 
 gree by fear and reverence," said the General ; — " but 
 enough of that, desiring, as I do, no other dependency 
 on my special person than is alike to us all upon ihat which 
 is above us. But I would desire to cast this golden ball 
 into your master's cap. He hath served against this 
 Charles Stuart and his father. But he is a kinsman near 
 to the old knight Lee, and stands well affected towards 
 his daughter. Thou also wilt keep a watch, my friend — 
 that ruftiing look of thine will procure thee the confi- 
 dence of every malignant, and the prey cannot approach 
 this cover, as though to shelter, like a coney in the rocks, 
 but thou wilt he sensible of his presence." 
 
 " I make a shift to comprehend your Excellency,'* 
 said the cavalier ; " and I thank you heartily for the good 
 opinion you have put upon me, and which, I pray, 1 may 
 have son]e handsome opportimity of deserving, that I 
 may show my gratitude by the event. But still, with 
 reverence, your Excellency's scheme seems unlikely, 
 while Woodstock remains in possession of the sequestra- 
 tors. Both the old Knight and his son, and far more 
 such a fugitive as your honor hinted at, will take special 
 care not to approach it till they are renioved." 
 
 " It is for that I have been dealing with thee thus 
 long," said the General. — "I told thee that! was some- 
 thing unwilling, upon sli2;ht, occasion, to dispossess the se- 
 questrators by my own proper warrant, although having, 
 perha})s, sufficient authority in the state both to do so, and 
 to despise the murmurs of those who blame me. In 
 brief, 1 would be loth to tamper with my privileges, and 
 make experiments between their strength, and the powers 
 of the commission granted by others, without need, or at
 
 WOODSTOCK. 117 
 
 least great prospect of advantage. So, if thy Colonel 
 will undertake, for his love of the Republic, to find the 
 means of preventing its worst and nearest danger, which 
 must needs occur from the escape of this young man, and 
 will do his endeavour to stay him, in case his flight should 
 lead him to Woodstock, which 1 hold very likely, 1 will 
 give thee an order to these sequestrators, to evacuate 
 the palace instantly ; and to the next troop of my regi- 
 ment, which lies at Oxford, to turn them out by the 
 shoulders, if they make any scruples — Ay, even, for 
 example's sake, if they drag Desborough out foremost, 
 thougli he be wedded to my sister." 
 
 " So please you, sir," said Wildrake, " and with your 
 most powerful warrant, I trust 1 might expel the commis- 
 sioners, even without the aid of your most warlike and 
 devout troopers." 
 
 " That is what I am least anxious about," replied the 
 General ; " I should like to see the best of them sit 
 after 1 had nodded to them to begone — always excepting 
 the worshipful House, in whose name our commissions 
 run ; but who, as some think, will be done with politics 
 ere it be time to renew them. Therefore, what chiefly 
 concerns me to know, is, whether thy master will embrace 
 a traffic which hath such a fair promise of profit with it. 
 lam well convinced that with a scout like thee, who hast 
 been in the cavalier's quarters, and canst, 1 should guess, 
 resume thy drinking, ruffianly health-quaffing manners 
 whenever thou hast a mind, he must discover where this 
 Stuart hath ensconced himself. Either the young Lee 
 will visit the old one in person, or he will write to him, 
 or hold communication with him by letter. At all events, 
 Markham Everard and thou must have an eye in every 
 hair of your head." While he spokp, a flush passed 
 over his brow, he rose from his chair, and paced the 
 apartment in agitation. " Woe to you, if you suffer the 
 young adventurer to escape me ! — you had better be in 
 the deepest dungeon in Europe, than breathe the air of 
 England, should you hut dream of playing me false. I 
 have spoken freely to thee, fellow — more freely than is my
 
 118 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 wont — the time required it. But to share my confidence 
 is hke keeping a watch over a }30wder niagazine, the least 
 and most insignificant spark blows thee to ashes. Tell 
 your master what 1 said — but not how I said it — Fie, 
 that I should have been betrayed into the disteinperature 
 of passion ! — Begone, sirrah. Pearson shall bring thee 
 sealed orders — Yet, stay — thou hast something to ask." 
 '* I would know," said VVildrake, to wlioin the visible 
 anxiety of the General gave some confidence, " what is 
 the figure of this young gallant, in case 1 should find 
 
 him r 
 
 " A tall, raw-boned, sw^arthy lad, they say he has shot 
 up into. Here is his picture by a good hand, some time 
 since." He turned round one of the portraits which 
 stood with its face against the wall ; but it proved not to 
 be tiiat of Charles the Second, but of his unhappy father. 
 
 The first motion of Cromwell indicated a purpose of 
 hastily replacing the picture, and it seemed as if an effort 
 was necessary to repress his disinclination to look upon 
 it. But he did repress it, and placing tiie picture against 
 the wall, withdrew slowly and sternly, as if, in defiance 
 of his own feeling, he was determined to gain a place 
 from which to see it to advantage. It was well for Wild- 
 rake that his dangerous companion had not turned an eye 
 on him, for his blood also kindled when he saw the por- 
 trait of his master in the hands of the chief author of his 
 death. Being a fierce and desperate man, he command- 
 ed his passion with great difficulty ; and if, on its first 
 violence, he had been provided with a suitable weapon, 
 it is possible Cromwell would never have ascended higher 
 in his hold ascent towards supreme power. 
 
 But this natural and sudden flash of indignation, which 
 rushed through the veins of an ordinary man like Wild- 
 rake, was presently subdued, when confronted with the 
 strong yet stifled emotion displayed by so powerful a 
 character as Cromwell. As the cavalier lopked on his 
 dark and bold coimienance, as^ilated by inward and in- 
 describable feelin2;s, he found his own violence of spirit 
 die away and lose itself in fear and wonder. So true it is,
 
 WOODSTOCK. 119 
 
 that as greater lights swallow up and extinguish the dis- 
 play of those which are less, so men of great, capacious, 
 and over-ruling minds, bear aside and subdue, in their 
 climax of passion, the more feeble wills and passions of 
 others ; as, when a river joins a brook, tiie fiercer torrent 
 shoulders aside the smaller stream. 
 
 Wildrake stood a silent, inactive, and almost a terrified 
 spectator, while Cromwell, assun}ing a firm sternness of 
 eye and njanner, as one who compels himself to look on 
 what son)e strong interiial feeling renders painful and dis- 
 gustful to liim, proceeded in brief and interrupted ex- 
 piesi^ions, but yet with a firm voice, to comiiienl on the 
 portrait of the late King. His words seetped less ad- 
 dressed to Wildrake, than to be the spontaneous unbur- 
 thening of his own bosom, swelling under recollection of 
 the past, and anticipation of the future. 
 
 " That Flemish painter," he said — " that Antonio 
 Vandyke — what a power he has ! Steel may nuit late, 
 warriors may waste and destroy — still the Kit g si; nc!s un- 
 injured by lime ; and our grandchildren, while they read 
 his history, may look on his image, and compare the njel- 
 ancholy features with the woful tale. It was a stern ne- 
 cessity — it was an awful deed ! The calm piide of that 
 eye mislit have ruled worlds of crouching Fienclimen, 
 or supple Italians, or formal Spaniards, but its glances on- 
 ly roused the native courage of the stern Englishman. — 
 Lay not on poor sinful man, whose breath is in his nos- 
 trils, I he blame that he falls, when Heaven never gave 
 him strength of nerves to stand ! Tlie weak rider is 
 thrown by his unruly horse, and tran^pled to death — ;the 
 strongest man, the best cavalier, springs to the emj)ty sad- 
 dle, and uses bit and spur till the fiery horse knows its 
 master. Who blames him, who, mounted aloft, rides 
 triumphantly amongst the people, for having succeeded, 
 where the unskilful and feeble fell and died ? Verily he 
 hath his reward : Then, what is that piece of painted 
 canvass to me more than others .'* No ; let him show to 
 others the reproaches of that cold, calm face, that proud 
 yet complaining eye : Those who have acted on higher
 
 120 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 respects have no cause to start at painted shadows. Not 
 wealth nor power brought me from my obscurity. The 
 oppressed consciences, the injured hberties of England, 
 were the banner that 1 followed." 
 
 He raised his voice so high, as if pleading in his own 
 defence before some tribunal, that Pearson, the officer 
 in attendance, looked into the apartment ; and observing 
 his master, with his eyes kindling, his arm extended, his 
 foot advanced, and his voice raised, like a general in the 
 act of commanding the advance of his army, he instantly 
 withdrew. 
 
 *' It was other than selfish regards that drew me forth 
 to action," continued Cromwell, " and 1 dare the world 
 — ay, living or dead I challenge — to assert that 1 armed 
 for a private cause, or as a means of enlarging my for- 
 tunes. Neither was there a trooper in the regiment who 
 came there with less of evil will to yonder unhappy " 
 
 At this moment the apartment opened, and a gentle- 
 womai) entered, who, from her resemblance to the Gen- 
 eral, although her features were soft and feminine, might 
 be immediately recognized as his daughter. She walked 
 up to Cromwell, gently but firmly passed her arm through 
 his, and said to him in a persuasive tone, " Father, this 
 is not well — you have promised me this should not hap- 
 pen." 
 
 The General hung down his head, like one who was 
 either ashamed of the passion to which he had given way, 
 or of the influence which was exercised over him. He 
 yielded, however, to the affectionate impulse, and left the 
 apartment, without again turning his bead towards the 
 portrait which had so much affected him.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 121 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Doctor. — Go to, go to^You have knowTi what you should not. 
 
 Maebetk, 
 
 WiLDRAKE was left in the cabinet, astonished and 
 alone. It was often noised about, that Cromwell, the 
 deep and sagacious statesman, the calm and intrepid 
 commander, he who had overcome such difficulties, and 
 ascended to such heights, that he seemed already to 
 bestride the land which he had conquered, had, like many- 
 other men of great genius, a constitutional taint of melan- 
 choly, which sometimes displayed itself both in words 
 and actions, and had been first observed, in that sudden 
 and striking change, when, abandoning entirely the dis- 
 solute freaks of his youth, he embraced a very strict 
 course of religious observances, which, upon some oc- 
 casions, he seemed to consider as bringing him into more 
 near and close contact with the spiritual world. This 
 extraordinary man is said sometimes, during that period 
 of liis life, to have given way to spiritual delusions, or, as 
 he himself conceived them, prophetic inspirations of ap- 
 proaching grandeur, and of strange, deep, and mysterious 
 agencies, in which he was in future to be engaged, in the 
 same manner as his younger years had been marked by- 
 fits of exuberant and excessive frolic and debaucheries. 
 Something of this kind seemed to explain the ebullitions 
 of passion which he had now manilested. 
 
 With wonder at what he had witnessed, Wildrake felt 
 some anxiety on his own account. Thoue^h not the most 
 reflecting of mortals, he had sense enough to know, that 
 it is dangerous to be a witness of the infirmities of men 
 high in power ; and he was left so long by himself, as 
 induced him to entertain some secret doubts, whether the 
 
 11 VOL. I.
 
 122 
 
 AVOODSTOCK. 
 
 General might not be tempted to take means of confining 
 or reinoving a witness, who had seen him lowered, as it 
 seemed, by the suggestions of his own conscience, 
 beneath that lofty fligiit, which in general, he affected to 
 sustain above the rest of the sublunary world. 
 
 In tliis, however, he wronged Cromwell, who was free 
 either from an extreme degree of jealous suspicion, or 
 from any thing wi)ich approached towards blood-thirsti- 
 ness. Pearson appeared, after a lapse of about an hour, 
 and, intimating to Wildrake that he w^as to follow, con- 
 ducted him into a distant apartment, in which he found 
 the General seated on a low couch. His daughter was 
 in the apartment, but remained at some distance, seem- 
 ed busied with some female w^ork, and scarce turned her 
 head as Pearson and Wildrake entered. 
 
 At a sign Iroui the Lord General, Wildrake approach- 
 ed him as before. '' Friend," lie said, "your old friends 
 the cavaliers look on me as their enemy, and conduct 
 themselves towards me as if they desired to make me 
 such. I profess they are labouring to their own preju- 
 dice ; for I regard, and have ever regarded them, as hon- 
 est and honourable fools, who were silly enough to run 
 their necks into nooses, and their heads against stone- 
 w\\\s, that a man called Stuart, and no other, should be 
 King over them. Fools ! are there no words made of 
 letters that would soimd as well as Charles Stuart, with 
 that mastic title beside them f Why, the word King is 
 like a lisihted lamp, that throws the same bright gilding 
 upon any combination of the alphabet, and yet you must 
 shed your blood for a name ! But thou, for thy part, shalt 
 have no wrong from me. Here is an order, well vA^arrant- 
 ed, to clear the Lodge at Woodstock, and abandon it to 
 thy master's keeping, or those whom he shall appoint. 
 He will have his uncle and pretty cousin w-ith him, doubt- 
 less. Fare thee well — think on what I told thee. They 
 say beauty is a loadstone to yonder long lad, thou dost 
 wot of ; but I reckon he has other stars at present to 
 direct his course than bright eyes and fair hair. Be it as 
 it may, thou knowest my purpose — peer out, peer out ;
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 123 
 
 keep a constant and careful lookout on every ragged patch 
 that wanders by iiedgerow or lane — these are days uhen 
 a beggar's cloak iriMy cover a King's ransom. There are 
 some broad Portugal pieces for thee — something strange 
 to thy pouch, 1 ween. — Once more, think on what thou 
 hast heard, and," he added, in a lower and more impres- 
 sive tone of voice, " forget what thou hast seen. My 
 service to tliy master ; — and, yet once again, remember 
 — and forget^ Wildrake made his obseisance. and, 
 returning to his inn, left Windsor with all possible speed. 
 
 It was afternoon in the same day when the cavalier 
 rejoined his roundhead Iriend, who was anxiously ex- 
 pecting hun at the inn in Woodstock appointed for their 
 rendezvous. 
 
 " Wjiere hast thou been ? — what hast thou seen ? — what 
 strange uncertainty is in thy looks .'' — and why dost thou 
 not answer me ?" 
 
 *' liecause V^ said Wildrt^ke, laying aside his riding 
 cloak and rapier, " you ask so many questions at once. 
 A man has but one tongue to answer with, and mine is 
 well nigh glued to the roof of my mouth." 
 
 *' Will drink loosen it V* said the Colonel ! " though I 
 dare say tliou hast tried that spell at every ale-house on 
 the road. Call for what thou would'st have, man, only 
 be quick." 
 
 " Colonel Everard," answered Wildrake, " 1 have not 
 tasted so much as a cup of cold water this day." 
 
 " Then thou art out of humour for that reason," said 
 the Colonel ; " sajve thy sore with brandy, if thou wilt, 
 but leave being so fantastic and unlike to thyself, as thou 
 showest in this silent mood." 
 
 " Colonel Everard," replied the cavaher, very gravely, 
 " I am an altered man." 
 
 " I think thou dost alter every day in the year, and 
 every hour of the day. Come, good now, tell me, hast 
 thou seen the General, and got his warrant for clearing 
 out tlie sequestrators from Woodstock V 
 
 " 1 have seen the devil," said Wildrake, " and hast 
 as thou sav'st, cot a warrant from him."
 
 124 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Give it me hastily," said Everard, catching at the 
 packet. 
 
 " Forgive me, Mark," said Wildrake ; " if thou knew- 
 est the purpose with which this deed is granted — if thou 
 knewest — what is not my purpose to tell thee — what 
 manner of hopes are founded on tliy accepting it, 1 have 
 that opinion of thee, Mark Everard, that thou wouldst as 
 soon take a red hot horse shoe from the anvil with thy 
 bare hand, as receive into it this slip of paper." 
 
 " Come, come," said Everard, " this comes of some 
 of your exalted ideas of loyalty, which, excellent within 
 certain bounds, drive us mad when encouraged up to 
 some heights. Do not think, since 1 must needs speak 
 plainly with thee, that I see without sorrow the downfall 
 of our ancient monarchy, and the substitution of another 
 form of government in its stead ; but ought my regret for 
 the past to prevent my acquiescing and aiding in such 
 measures as are likely to settle the future ? The rpyal 
 cause is ruined, hadst thou and every cavalier in England 
 sworn the contrary ; ruined, not to rise again, — for many 
 a day at least. The Parliament, so often draughted and 
 drained of those who were courageous enough to main- 
 tain their own freedom of opinion, is now reduced to a 
 handful of statesmen, who have lost the respect of the 
 people, from the length of time during which they have 
 held the supreme management of affairs. They cannot 
 stand long unless they were to reduce the army ; and the 
 army, late servants, are now masters, and will refuse to 
 be reduced. They know their strength, and that they 
 may be an army subsisting on pay and free quarters 
 throughout England as long as they will. 1 tell thee, 
 Wildrake, unless we look to the only man who can rule 
 and manage them, we may expect military law through- 
 out the land ; and I, for mine own part, look for any 
 preservation of our privileges that may be vouchsafed to 
 us, only through the wisdom and forbearance of Crom- 
 well. Now you have my secret. You are aware that I 
 am not doing the best I would, but the best I can. I wish 
 — not so ardently as thou, perhaps — vet I do wish that
 
 WOODSTOCK. 125 
 
 the King could have been restored on good terms of com- 
 position, safe for us and for himself. And now, good 
 Wildrake, rebel as thou thinkest me, make me no worse 
 a rebel than an unwilling one. God knows, I never laid 
 aside love and reverence to the King, even in drav.ing 
 my sword against his ill advisers." 
 
 " Ah, plague on you," said Wildrake, " that is the 
 very cant of it — that's what you all say. All of you 
 fought against the King in pure love and loyalty, and not 
 otherwise. However I see your drift, and ] own that I 
 like it better than I expected. The army is your bear 
 now, and Old Noll is your bearward ; and you are like 
 a country constable, who makes interest with the bear- 
 ward that he may prevent him from letting bruin loose. 
 Well, tliere may come a day when the sun will shine on 
 our side of the lence, and thereon ^hall you, and all the 
 good fair-weather folks who love the stronger party come 
 and make common cause with us." 
 
 Without much attending to what his friend said, Colo- 
 nel Everard carefully studied the warrant of Cromwell. 
 " It is bolder and more peremptory than 1 expected," he 
 said. '* The General must feel himself strong, when he 
 opposes his own authority, so directly to that of the coun- 
 cil of State and the Parliament." 
 
 " You will not hesitate to act upon it ?" said Wildrake. 
 
 " That I certainly will not," answered Everard ; " bur 
 I must wait till I have the assistance of the Mayor, who. 
 I think, will gladly see these fellows ejected from the 
 Lodge. I must not go altogether upon military authority, 
 if possible." Then stepping to the door of the apartment, 
 he despatched a servant of the house in quest of the chief 
 magistrate, desiring he should be made acquainted that 
 Colonel Everard desired to see him with as little loss of 
 time as possible. 
 
 " You are sure he will come, like a dog at a whistle,'* 
 said Wildrake. " The word captain, or colonel, makes 
 the fat citizen trot in these days, uhen one sword is worth 
 fifty corporation charters. But there are dragoons yon- 
 
 11* VOL i»
 
 126 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 der, as well as the grim faced knave whom I frightened 
 the other evening when I showed my face in at the win- 
 dow. Think'st thou the knaves will show no rough play f " 
 
 " The General's warrant will weigli more with them 
 than a dozen acts of Parliament," said Everard. — " But 
 it is time thou eatest, if thou hast in truth ridden from 
 Windsor hither without baiting." 
 
 " I care not about it," said Wildrake : " I tell thee, 
 your General gave me a breakfast, which, I think, will 
 serve me one while, if I ever am able to digest it. By 
 the mass, it lay so heavy on my conscience, that I car- 
 ried it to church to see if I could digest it there with my 
 other sins. But not a whit." 
 
 ^' Ta church ! — to the door of the church, thou mean- 
 est," said Everard. " I know thy way — thou art ever 
 wont to pull thy hat aff reverently at the threshold, but 
 for crossing it; that day seldom comes." 
 
 *' Well," repHed Wildrake, " and if I do pull ofF my 
 castor and kneel, is it not seemly to show the same respects 
 in a church, which we offer in a palace ? It is a dainty 
 matter, is it not, to see your Anabaptists, and Brownists, 
 and the rest of you, gather to a sermon with as little cer- 
 emony as hogs to a trough ^ But here comes food, and 
 now for a grace, if I can remember one." 
 
 Everard was too much interested about the fate of his 
 uncle and his fair cousin, and the prospect of restoring 
 them to their quiet home, under the protection of that 
 formidable truncheon which w^as already regarded as the 
 leading-staff of England, to remark, that certainly a great 
 alteration had taken place in the manners and outward 
 behaviour, at least, of his companion. His demeanour 
 frequently evinced a sort of struggle betwixt old habits 
 of indulgence, and some newly formed resolutions of ab- 
 stinence ; and it was almost ludicrous to see how often 
 the hand of the neophyte directed itself naturally to a 
 large black leathern jack, which contained two double 
 flagons of strong ale, and how often, diverted from its 
 purpose by the better reflections of the reformed toper,
 
 WOODSTJCK. 
 
 127 
 
 it seized, instead, upon a large ewer of salubrious and 
 pure water. 
 
 It was easy to see that the task of sobriety was not yet 
 become easy, and that, if it had the recommendation of 
 the intellectual portion of the party who had resolved upon 
 it, the outward man yielded a reluctant and restive com- 
 pliance. But honest Wildrake had been dreadfully 
 frightened at the course proposed to him by Cromwell, 
 and, with a feeling not peculiar to the Catholic religion, 
 had formed a solemn resolution within his ow n mind, that 
 if he came off safe and with honour from this dangerous 
 interview, he would show his sense of Heaven's favour, 
 by renouncing some of the sins which most easily beset 
 him, and especially that of intemperance, to which, like 
 many of his wild compeers, he was too much addicted. 
 
 This resolution, or vow^, was partly prudential as well 
 as religious, for it occurred to him as very possible, that 
 some matters of a difficult and delicate nature might be 
 thrown into his hands at the present emergency, during 
 the conduct of which it would be fitting for him to act by 
 some better oracle than that of the bottle, celebrated by 
 Rabelais. In full compliance with this prudent deter- 
 mination, he touched neither the ale nor the brandy which 
 was placed before him, and declined peremptorily the 
 sack with which his friend would have garnished the 
 board. Nevertheless, just as the boy removed the tren- 
 chers and napkins, together with the large black jack 
 which we have already mentioned, and was one or two 
 steps on his way to the door, the sinewy arm of the cav- 
 alier, which seemed to elongate itself on purpose, (as it 
 extended far beyond the folds of the thread-bare jacket,) 
 arrested the progress of the retiring Ganymede, and 
 seizing on the black jack, conveyed it to the lips, which 
 were gently breathing forth the aspiration, " D — n — I 
 mean. Heaven forgive me — we are poor creatures of clay 
 — one modest sip must be permitted to our frailty." 
 
 So fnurmuring, he glued the huge flagon to his lips ; 
 and as the head was slowly and gradually inclined back- 
 wards, in proportion as the right hand elevated the bol-
 
 128 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 torn of the pitcher, Everard had great doubts whether the 
 drinker and the cup were Hkely to part until the whole 
 contents of the latter had been transferred to the person 
 of the former. Roger Wildrake stinted, however, when 
 by a moderate computation he had swallowed at one 
 draught about a quart and a half. . 
 
 He then replaced it on the salver, fetched a long breath 
 to refresh his lungs, bade the boy get him gone with the 
 rest of the liquors, in a tone which inferred some dread 
 of his constancy, and then, turning to his friend Everard, 
 he expatiated in praise of moderation, observing, that the 
 mouthful which he had just taken had been of more ser- 
 vice to him than if he had remained quaffing healths at 
 table for four hours together. 
 
 His friend made no reply, but could not help being 
 privately of opinion, that Wildrake's temperance had 
 done as much execution on the tankard in his single 
 draught, as some more moderate topers might have effect- 
 ed if they had sat sipping for an evening. But the sub- 
 ject was changed by the entrance of the landlord, who 
 came to announce to his honour Colonel Everard, that 
 the worshipful Mayor of Woodstock, with the Rev. Mas- 
 ter Holdenough, were come to wait upon him. 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 -" Here have we one head 
 
 Upon two bodies — your two-headed bullock 
 
 Is bill an ass to such a prodigy. 
 
 These two have but one meaning, thought, .and counsel : 
 
 And, when the single noddle has spoke out, 
 
 The four legs scrape assent to it." Old Play. 
 
 In tlie goodly form of the honest Mayor, there was a 
 bustling mixture of importance and embarrassment, like 
 the deportment of a man who was conscious that he had
 
 WOODSTOCK. 129 
 
 an important part to act, if he could but exactly discover 
 what that part was. But both were mingled with much 
 pleasure at seeing Everard, and he frequently repeated 
 his welcomes and all-hails before he could be brought to 
 attend to what that gentleman said in reply. 
 
 " Good worthy Colonel, you are indeed a desirable 
 sight to Woodstock at all times, being, as I may say, 
 almost our townstnan, as you have dwell so much and 
 so long at the palace. Truly, the matter begins almost 
 to pass my wit, though 1 have transacted the affairs of 
 this borough for many a long day ; and you are come to 
 mv assistance like, like " 
 
 " Tanquam Dftus ex machina, as the Ethnic poet hath 
 it," said Master Holdenoush, " although I do not often 
 quote from such books. — Indeed, Aiaster Markham Eve- 
 rard — or worthy Colonel, as 1 ought rather to say — you 
 are sirnply the most welcome man who has come to 
 Woodstock since the days of old King Harry." 
 
 *' 1 had some business with you, my good friend," 
 said the Colonel, addressing the i\]ayor ; " 1 shall be 
 glad if it should so happen ^t the same time, that 1 may 
 find occasion to pleasure you or your worthy pastor." 
 
 " No question you can do so, good sir," interposed 
 Master Holdenough ; " you have the heart, sir, and you 
 have the hand ; and we are much in want of good coun- 
 sel, and that from a man of action. I am aware, worthy 
 Colonel, that you and your worthy father have ever 
 borne yourselves in these turmoils like men of a truly 
 Christian and moderate spirit, striving to pour oil into 
 the wounds of the land, which some would rub with 
 vitriol and pepper; and we know you are faithful chil- 
 dren of the church we have reformed from its papistical 
 and prelatical tenets." 
 
 " ]My good and reverend friend," said Everard, "1 
 respect the piety and learning of many of your teachers ; 
 but 1 am also for liberty of conscience to all men. I 
 neither side with sectaries, nor do I desire to see them 
 the object of suppression by violence."
 
 130 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Sir, sir," said the Presbyterian hastily, " all this hath 
 a fair sound ; but 1 would you siiould tliink what a fine 
 country and church we are like to have oi' it, amidst the 
 errors, blasphemies, and schisms, which are daily intro- 
 duced into the church and kingdom of England, so that 
 worthy JMasler Edwards, in his Gangrena, declareth, that 
 our native country is about to become the very sink and 
 cess-pool of all schisms, heresies, blasphemies, and con- 
 fusions, as the army of Hannibal was said to be the refuse 
 of all nations — Colluvies omnium gentivm. — Believe rne, 
 worthy Colonel, that they of the Honourable House view 
 all this over lightly, and with the winking connivance of 
 old Eli. These instruciers, the schismatics, shoulder the 
 orthodox ministers out of their pulpits, thrust themselves 
 into fainilies, and break up the peace thereof, stealing 
 away men's hearts from the established faith." 
 
 " My good Master Holdenough," replied the Colonel, 
 interrupting tlie zealous preacher, " there is ground of 
 sorrow for all these unhappy discords ; and 1 hold with 
 you, that tlie fiery spirits of the present time, have raised 
 men's minds at once above sober-minded and sincere 
 religion, and above decorum and common sense. But 
 there is no help save patience. Enthusiasm is a stream 
 that may foam off in its own time, whereas it is sure to 
 bear down every barrier which is directly opposed to it. 
 — But what are these schismatical proceedings to our 
 present purpose .^" 
 
 *' Why, partly this, sir," said Holdenough, " although 
 perhaps you may make less of it than I should have 
 thought before we met. — I was myself — I, Nehemiah 
 Holdenough, (he added consequentially,) was forcibly 
 expelled from my own pulpit, even as a man should have 
 been thrust out of his own house, by an alien, and an in- 
 truder, a wolf, who was not at the trouble even to put 
 on sheep's clothing, but came in his native wolfish attire 
 of buff and bandalier, and held forth in my stead to the 
 people, who are to me as a flock to the lawful shepherd. 
 It is too true, sir — Master Mayor saw it, and strove to 
 take such order to prevent it as man might, though,"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 131 
 
 turning to the ^Mayor, " I think still you might have striven 
 a litl.e more." 
 
 " Good now, good Master Hoklenongh, do not let us 
 go back on that question," said the Mayor. " Guy of 
 Warwick, or Bevis of Hampton, might do something 
 with tijis gi neraiion ; but tiiily thty aje too many and 
 too strong lor the ]\iayor of ^\ oodbiock." 
 
 *' I think Master Mayor speaks very good sense," 
 said the Colonel ; " it" the Independents aie not allow- 
 ed to preach, 1 tear me they will not fight ; — and then 
 if yon were to have another rising ol cavalitrs r" 
 
 *' Theie are worse folks may rise than cavaliers," said 
 Holdenough. 
 
 *' Mow, sir r" replied Colonel Everard, " Let me 
 remind )ou. Master Holdenough, tlii.l is 1,0 safe lai;guage 
 in the present stiite of the nation." 
 
 '* i say," said the Presbyterian, " there are worse 
 folks n)ay rise than cavalieis ; and I will prove uhatl 
 say. The devil is worse than the woist cavi.Jier tl at ever 
 drunk a health, or swore an oath — and the devil ijas risen 
 at Woodstock Lodge !" 
 
 " Ay, truly hath he," said the IMayor, " I odily and 
 visibly, in figme and In form — An aulsd time we live in." 
 
 *' Gentlemen, 1 really know not how 1 am to tnderstand 
 you," said Everard. 
 
 *' VViiy, it was even about the devil we c?ine to speak 
 with you," said the Mayor ; "but lie wciil.y minister 
 is always so hot upon the sectaries " 
 
 " Which are the devil's biats, and ne ally akin to him," 
 said Master Holdenough. " But true it is, that the 
 growth of these sects has brouehl up the Evil One even 
 upon the face of the earth, to look alter his o\^n interest, 
 where he finds it most thriving." 
 
 ** Master Holdenough," said the Colonel, " if you 
 speak fi2;uratively, I have already told you that I have 
 neither the means nor the skill sufF.cient to temper these 
 religious heats. But if you design to say that there has 
 been an actual apparition of the devil, I presume to think
 
 132 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 that you, with your doctrine and your learning, would be 
 a fitter match i'or hiin than a soldier like me." 
 
 " True, sir ; and I have that confidence in the com- 
 mission which I hold, that 1 would take the field against 
 the foul fiend without a moment's delay," said Hold- 
 enough ; " but the place in whicl) he hath of late appear- 
 ed, being Woodstock, is filled witli those dangerous and 
 impious persons, of wliom 1 have been but now com- 
 plaining ; and tliough I dare venture in disputation with 
 their Great Master himself, yet without your protection, 
 most worthy Colonel, 1 see not that 1 may with prudence 
 trust myself w^ith the tossing and goring ox Desborough, 
 or the bloody and devouring bear Harrison, or the cold 
 and poisonous snake Bletson — all of whom are now at 
 the Lodge, doing license and taking spoil as they think 
 meet ; and, as all men say, the devil has come to make 
 a fourth with them." 
 
 *' In good truth, worthy and noble sir," said the Mayor, 
 " it is even as Master Holdenough says — our privileges 
 are declared void, our cattle seized in the very pastures. 
 They talk of cutting dow^n and disparkins; the fair Chase, 
 which has been so long the pleasure of so many kings, 
 and making Woodstock of as little note as any paltry 
 village. 1 assure you we heard of your arrival with joy, 
 and wondered at your keeping yourself so close in your 
 lodgings. We know no one save your father or you, 
 that are like to stand the poor burgesses' friend in this 
 extremity, since almost all the gentry around are malig- 
 nants, and under sequestration. We trust, therefore, 
 you will make strong intercession in our behalf." 
 
 " Certainly, Master Mayor," said the Colonel, who 
 saw himself with pleasure anticipated ; " it was my very 
 purpose to hav^e interfered in this matter ; and I did but 
 keep myself alone until 1 should be furnished with some 
 authority from the Lord General." 
 
 " Powers from the Lord General I" said the Mayor, 
 thrusting the clergyman with his elbow — " Dost thou 
 hear that ? — What cock will fight that cock ? We shall
 
 MOOD STOCK. 
 
 133 
 
 carry it now over their necks, and Woodstock shall be 
 brave Woodstock still !" 
 
 *' Keep thine elbow from my side, friend," said Hold- 
 enouiih, annoyed by the action which the INlayor had 
 suited to his words ; " and may the Lord send that Cicm- 
 well prove not as sharp to the people of England as thy 
 bones against my person ! Yet 1 approve that we should 
 use his authority to stop the course of these men's pio- 
 ceedings." 
 
 ** Let us set out, then," said Colonel Everard ; " and 
 1 trust we shall find the gentlemen reasonable and ohe- 
 dicr.t." 
 
 The functionaries, laic and clerical, assented with 
 much joy ; and the Colonel required and received \^ ild- 
 rake's assistance in putting on his cloak and rapier, as if 
 he had been the dependant whose part he acted. The 
 cavalier contrived, howeter, while doing him these men- 
 ial offices, to give his friend a shrewd pinch, in order to 
 maintain the footing of secret equality betv\ixt them. 
 
 The Colonel was saluted, as they passed through the 
 streets, by many of the anxious inhabitants, who seemed 
 to consider his intervention as affording the only chance 
 of saving their fine Park, and the rights of the corpora- 
 tion, as well as of individuals, from ruin and confiscation. 
 
 As they entered the Pai k, the Colonel asked his com- 
 panions, " What is that you say of apparitions being seen 
 amongst them ?" 
 
 " Why, Colonel," said the clergyman, " you know 
 yourself that Woodstock was always haunted f" 
 
 *' I have lived therein many a day," said the Colonel ; 
 " and I know that I never saw the least sign of it, although 
 idle people spoke of the house as they do of all old man- 
 sions, and gave tlie apartments ghosts and spectres to fill 
 up the places of the deceased great, who had ever dwelt 
 there." 
 
 " Nay, but, good Colonel," said the clergyman, " I 
 trust you have not reached the prevailing sin of the times, 
 and become indifferent to the testimony in favour of ap- 
 
 12 VOL. I.
 
 134 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 paritions, which appears so conclusive to all but atheists, 
 and advocates for witches ?" 
 
 " 1 would not absolutely disbelieve what is so generally 
 affirmed," said the Colonel; " but my temper leads me 
 to doubt most of the stories wliich 1 have heard of this 
 sort, and my own experience never went to confirm any 
 of them." 
 
 " Ay, but trust me," said Holdenough, " there was 
 always a demon of one or the other species about iliis 
 Woo'lstock Not a man or woman in the town but lias 
 heard stories of apparitions in tlie forest, or about the old 
 castle. Sometimes it is a puck of hounds that sweep 
 along, and the whoops and hollos of the huntsman, and 
 the winding of horns and galloping of horse, which is 
 heard as if first more distant, and then close around you 
 — and then anon it is a solitary huntsman, who asks if you 
 can tell him which way the stag has gone. He is always 
 dressed in green ; but the fashion of his clothes is some 
 five hundred years old. This is what we call Denjon 
 Meridianum — the noonday spectre." 
 
 " i\Jy worthy and reverend sir," said the Colonel, " I 
 have lived at Woodstock many seasons, and have travers- 
 ed the Chase at all hours. Trust me, what you hear 
 from the villagers is the growth of their idle folly and 
 superstition." 
 
 " Colonel," replied Holdenough, " a negative proves 
 nothing. What signifies, craving your pardon, that you 
 have not seen anything, be it earthly, or be it of the other 
 world, to detract from the evidence of a score of people 
 who have ? — And, besides, there is the Demon Noctur- 
 num — the being that walketh by night — He has been 
 amons; these Independents and schismatics last night. — 
 Ay, Colonel, you may stare ; but it is even so — they 
 may try whether he will mend their gifts, as they profane- 
 ly call them, of exposition and prayer. No, sir, I trow, 
 to master vie foul fiend there goeth some competent 
 knowled2;e of theology, and an acquaintance with the 
 humane letters, ay, and a regular clerical education, and 
 clerical calling."
 
 >VOODSTOCK. 135 
 
 "I do not in the least doubt," said the Colonel, " the 
 efficacy of your qualifications to lay the devil ; but still I 
 think some odd mistake lias occasioned this confusion 
 amongst them, if there has any such in reality existed. 
 Desl'orough is a blockhead, to be sure ; and Harrison 
 is fanatic enough to believe anything. But there is 
 Bletson. on the other hand, who beheves nothing. — What 
 do you know of this matter, good Master Mayor r" 
 
 "In sooth, and it was Master Bletson who gave the first 
 alarm," replied the magistrate, " or, at least, the first 
 distinct one. You see, sir, 1 was in bed with my wife, 
 and no one else ; and I was as fast asleep as a man can 
 desire to be at two hours after midnight, when, behold 
 you, they came knocking at my bed-room door, to tell 
 me there was an alarm in Woodstock, and that the bell 
 of the lodge was ringing at that dead hour of the night, 
 as hard as ever it rung when it called the court to din- 
 ner." 
 
 *' Well, but the cause of this alarm ?" said the Colonel. 
 
 *' You shall hear, worthy Colonel, you shall hear," an- 
 swered the Mayor, waving his hand with dignity ; for he 
 was one of those persons who will not be hurried out 
 of their own pace. " So Mrs. Mayor would have per- 
 suaded me, in her love and affection, poor wretch, that 
 to rise at such an hour out of n)y warm bed, was like to 
 bring on my old complaint the lumbago, and that I should 
 send the people to Alderman Dutton. — Alderman Devil, 
 Mrs. Mayor, said I ; — 1 beg your reverence's pardon for 
 using such a phrase — Do you think 1 am going to lie 
 a-bed when the town is on fire, and the cavaliers up, and 
 the devil to pay f — 1 beg pardon again, parson. — But, 
 here we are before the gate of the Palace j will it not 
 please you to enter ?" 
 
 " I would first hear the end of your story," said the 
 Colonel ; " that is, Master Mayor, if it happens to have 
 an end." 
 
 " Everything hath an end," said the Mayor, " and that 
 which we call a pudding hath two. — Your worship will 
 forgive nie for being facetions. Where was I ? — O, I
 
 136 AVOODSTOCK. 
 
 jumped out of bed, and put on my red plush breeches, 
 with the blue nether stocks, for 1 always make a point of 
 being dressed suitable to my dignity, niglit and day, 
 summer or winter. Colonel Everard ; and J took the con- 
 stable along with me, in casj tl e alarm should be raised 
 by night-walkers or thieves, -md called up worthy Master 
 Holdeiiough out of his bed, in case it should turn out to 
 be the devil. And so I thougljt I was provided for the 
 worst — and so away we came ; and, by and by, the sol- 
 diers, who came to the town with Master Tomkins, who 
 had been called to arms, came marching down to Wood- 
 stock as fast as their feet would carry them ; so 1 gave 
 our people the sign to let them pass us, and outmarch 
 us, as it were, and this for a twofold reason." 
 
 " I w^ill be satisfied," interrupted the Colonel, " with 
 one good reason. You desired the red-coats should have 
 the first of the fray." 
 
 " True, sir, very true ; — and also that they should 
 have the last of it, in respect that fighting is their especial 
 business. However, we came on at a slow pace, as men 
 who are determined to do their duty without fear or fa- 
 vour, when suddenly we saw something white haste away 
 up the avenue towards the town, when six of our con- 
 stables and assistants fled at once, as conceiving it to be 
 an apparition called the White Woman of Woodstock." 
 
 " Look you there. Colonel," said Master Holdenough, 
 " I told you there were demons of more kinds than one, 
 which haunt the ancient scenes of royal debauchery and 
 cruelty." 
 
 " I hope you stood your own ground. Master Mayor .^" 
 said the Colonel. 
 
 " I — yes — most assuredly — that is, I did not, strictly 
 speaking, keep my ground ; but the town-clerk and I re- 
 treated — retreated. Colonel, and without confusion or 
 dishonour, and took post behind worthy Master Hold- 
 enough, who, with the spirit of a lion, threw himself in 
 the v/ay of the supposed spectre, and attacked it with 
 such a siserary of Latin as might have scared the devil 
 himself, and thereby plainly discovered that it was nq
 
 WOODSTOCK. 137 
 
 devil at all, nor white woman, neither woman of any col- 
 our, but worshipful Master Bletson, a member of the 
 House of Commons, and one of the Commissioners sent 
 hither upon this unhappy sequestration of the Wood, 
 Chase, and Lodge of Woodstock." 
 
 *' And this was all you saw of the demon r" said the 
 Colonel. 
 
 " Truly, yes," answered the Mayor ; " and 1 had no 
 wish to see more. However, we conveyed Master 
 Bletson, as in duty bound, back to the Lodge, and he was 
 ever maundering by the way how that he met a party of 
 scarlet devils incarnate marching down to the Lodge ; but, 
 to my poor thinking, it must have been the independent 
 dragoons who had just passed us." 
 
 *' And more incarnate devils I would never wish to 
 see," said Wildrake, who could remain silent no longer. 
 His voice, so suddenly heard, showed how much the 
 Mayor's nerves were still alarmed, for he started and 
 jumped aside with an alacrity with which no one would at 
 first si^ht suppose a man of his portly dignity to be capa- 
 ble. Everard imposed silence on his intrusive attendant ; 
 and, desirous to hear the conclusion of this strange story, 
 requested the xMayor to tell him how the matter ended, 
 and whether they stopped the supposed spectre. 
 
 '' Truly, v.orthy sir," said the Mayor, " Master Hold- 
 enough was quite venturous upon confronting, as it were, 
 the devil, and compelling him to appear under the real 
 form of Master Joshua Bletson, member of Parhament 
 for the borough of Liltlefaith." 
 
 "In sooth. Master Mayor," said the divine, " I were 
 strangely ignorant of my own commission and immuni- 
 ties, if 1 were to value opposing myself to Satan, or any 
 Independent in his likeness, all of whom, in the name of 
 Him 1 serve, I do defy, spit at, and trample under my 
 feet ; and because blaster Mayor is something tedious, 
 I will briefly inform your honour that we saw little of the 
 Enemy that nieht, save what ^Master Bletson s;iid in the 
 first feeling of his terrors, and save what we might col« 
 
 12* VOL. I.
 
 138 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 lect from the disordered appearance of the honourable 
 Colonel Desborough and Major-general Harrison." 
 
 *' And what plight were they in, I pray you ?" de- 
 manded the Colonel. 
 
 " Why, worthy sir, every one might see with half an 
 eye that they had been engaged in a fight wherein they 
 had not been honoured with victory, seeing that General 
 Harrison was stalking up and down the parlour, with his 
 drawn sword in his hand, talking to himself, his doublet 
 unbuttoned, his points untrussed, his garters loose, and 
 like to throw him down as he now and then trod on them, 
 and gaping and grinning like a mad player. And yonder 
 sat Desborough with a dry pottle of sack before him, 
 which he had just emptied, and which, though the ele- 
 ment in which he trusted, had not restored him sense 
 enough to speak, or courage enough to look over his 
 shoulder. He had a Bible in his hand forsooth, as if it 
 would make battle against the Evil One ; but I peered 
 over his shoulder, and, alas ! the good gentleman held 
 tlie bottom of the page uppermost. It was as if one of 
 your musketeers, noble and valued sir, were to present 
 the butt of his piece at the enemy instead of the muz- 
 zle — ha, ha, ha ! it was a sight to judge of schismatics 
 by ; both in point of head, and in point of heart, in point 
 of skill and in point of courage. — Oh ! Colonel, then was 
 the time to see the true character of an unauthorized pas- 
 tor of souls over those unhappy men, who leap into the 
 fold without due and legal authority, and will, forsooth, 
 preach, teach, and exhort, and blasphemously term the 
 doctrine of the church saltless porridge and dry chips." 
 
 " I have no doubt you were ready to meet the danger, 
 reverend sir ; but I would fain know of what nature it 
 was, and from whence it was to be appreliended ?" 
 
 " Was it for me to make such inquiry ?" said the 
 clergyman triumphantly. " Ts it for a brave soldier to 
 uuinber his enemies or inquire from what quarter they are 
 to come ? — No, sir, I was there with match lis^hted, bullet 
 in my mouth, and n)y harquebuss shouldered, to encoun- 
 ter as many devils as hell could pour in, were they count-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 139 
 
 less as motes in the sunbeam, and came from all points of 
 the compass. The papists talk of the temptation of St, 
 Antliony — pshaw! let them double all the myriads which 
 the brain of a crazy Dutch painter hath invented, and you 
 will find a poor Presbyterian divine — I will answer for one 
 at least, — who, not in his own strength, but his Master's, 
 will receive the assault in such sort, that far from returning 
 against him as against yonder poor hound, day after day 
 and night after night, he will at once pack them off as 
 with a vengeance to the uttermost parts of Assyria." 
 
 " Still," said the Colonel, " 1 pray to know whether 
 you saw anything upon which to exercise your pious 
 learning .'"' 
 
 " Saw .^" answered the divine ; " no, truly, I saw 
 nothing, nor did I look for anything. Thieves will not 
 attack well-armed travellers, nor will devils or evil spirits 
 come against one who bears in his bosom the word of 
 truth, in the very language in which it was first dictated. 
 No, sir, they shun a divine who can understand the holy 
 text, as a crow is said to keep wide of a gun loaded 
 with hail-shot." 
 
 They had walked a little way back upon their road, 
 to give time for this conversation ; and the Colonel, per- 
 ceiving it was about to lead to no satisfactory explanation 
 of the real cause of alarm on the preceding night, turned 
 round, and observing it was time they should go to the 
 Lodge, began to move in that direction with his three 
 companions. 
 
 It was now becoming dark, and the towers of Wood- 
 stock arose high above the umbrageous shroud which the 
 forest spread around the ancient and venerable mansion. 
 From one of the highest turrets, which could still be dis- 
 tinguished as it rose against the clear blue sky, there 
 gleamed a light like that of a candle within the building. 
 The IMnyor slept short, and catching fast hold of the di- 
 vine, and then of Colonel Everard, exclaimed, in a trem- 
 bling and hasty, but suppressed tone, " Do you see yon- 
 der light r
 
 140 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Ay, marry do T," said Colonel Everard ; " and what 
 does that matter ? — a light in a garret-room of such an 
 old mansion as Woodstock is no subject for wonder, I 
 trow." 
 
 *' But a light from Rosamond's Tower is surely so," 
 said the Mayor. 
 
 *' True," said the Colonel, something surprised, when, 
 after a careful examination, he satisfied himself that the 
 worthy magistrate's conjecture was real. " That is in- 
 deed Rosamond's Tower ; and as the drawbridge by 
 which it was accessible has been destroyed for centuries, 
 it is hard to say what chance could have lighted a lamp in 
 such an inaccessible place." 
 
 " That light burns with no earthly fuel," said the 
 Mayor ; " neither from whale nor olive, nor bees-wax, 
 nor mutton-suet either. I dealt in these commodities, 
 Colonel, before 1 went into my preset line ; and 1 can 
 assure you I could distinguish the sort of light they give, 
 one from another, at a greater distance than yonder 
 turret — Look you, that is no earthly flame. — See you not 
 something blue and reddish upon the edges ? — that bodes 
 full well where it comes from. — Colonel, in my opinion we 
 had better go back to sup at the town, and leave the Devil 
 and the red-coats to settle their matters together to-night ; 
 and then when we come back the next morning, w^e will 
 have a pull with the party that chances to keep a-field." 
 
 "You will do as you please. Master Mayor," said 
 Everard, " but my duty requires me that I should see 
 the Commissioners to-night." 
 
 " And mine requires me to see the foul Fiend," said 
 Master Holdenough, "if he dare make himself visible 
 to me. I wonder not that, knowing who is approaching, 
 he betakes himself to the very citatlel, the inner and the 
 last defences of this ancient and haunted mansion. He 
 is dainty, I warrant you, and must dwell where is a relish 
 of luxury and murder about the walls of his chamber. 
 In yonder turret sinned Rosamond, and in yonder turret 
 she suffered ; and there she sits, or more likely, the 
 Enemy in her shape, asT have heard true men of Wood-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 141 
 
 Stock tell. — 1 wait on you, good Colonel — Master Mayor 
 will do as he pleases. The stiono man hath ibitilied 
 himself in his dwelling-house, but, lo, there comes anoth- 
 er stronger than he." 
 
 " For me," said the Mayor, " who am as unlearned 
 as I am unwarlike. 1 will not engage either with the Pow- 
 ers of the Earth, or the Prince of the Powers of the Air, 
 and I will go back to Woodstock ; — and hark ye, good 
 fellow," slapping Wildrake on the shoulder, "J will be- 
 stow on thee a shilling wet and a shilling dry if thou wilt 
 go with me." 
 
 " Gadzookers, Master iMayor," said Wildrake, neither 
 flattered by the magistrate's familiarity of address, nor 
 captivated by his munificence — " 1 wonder who the devil 
 made you and me fellows f — and, besides, do } ou think 
 I would go back to Woodstock with your worshipiul cod's- 
 head, when, by good management, I may get a peep of 
 fair Rosamond, and see whether she was that choice and 
 incomparable piece of ware which the world has been 
 told of by rhymers and ballad-makers t'^ 
 
 " Speak less lightly and wantonly, fjiend," said the 
 divine ; " we are to resist the Devil that he may flee from 
 us, and not to tamper with him, or enter into his coun- 
 sels, or traffic with the merchandize of his great Vanity 
 Fair." 
 
 " Mind what the good man says, Wildrake," said the 
 Colonel, " and take heed anotlier time how thou dost 
 suffer thy wit to outrun discretion." 
 
 " I am beholden to the reverend gentleman for his' 
 advice," answered W^ildrake, upon whose tongue it was 
 difiicult to impose any curb whatever, even when his own 
 safety rendered it most desirable. " But, gadzookers, 
 let him have had what experience he will in flighting with 
 the Devil, he never saw one so black as I had a tussle with 
 — not a hundred years ago." 
 
 " How, friend," said the clergyman, who understood 
 every thing literally when apparitions were mentioned, 
 *' have you had so late a visitation of Satan ? Believe 
 me, then, that I wonder why thou darest to entertain his
 
 142 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 name so often and so lightly, as T see thou dost use it in 
 thy ordinary discourse. But when and where didst thou 
 see the Evil One i^" 
 
 Everard hastily interposed, lest by something yet more 
 strongly alluding to Cromwell, his imprudent squire 
 should, in mere wantonness, betray his interview with the 
 General. " The young man raves," he said, " of a 
 dream which he had the other night, when he and I slept 
 together in Victor Lee's chamber, belonging to the Ran- 
 ger's apartments at the Lodge." 
 
 " Thanks for help at a pinch, good patron," said Wild- 
 rake, whispering into Everard's ear, who in vain endeav- 
 oured to shake him off, — " a fib never failed a fanatic." 
 
 " You, also, spoke something too lightly of these mat- 
 ters, considering the work which we have in hand, worthy 
 Colonel," said the Presbyterian divine. " Believe me, 
 the young man, thy servant, was more like to see visions 
 than to dream merely idle dreams in that apartment ; for 
 1 have always heard, that, next to Rosamond's Tower, 
 in which, as I said, she played the wanton, and was 
 afterwards poisoned by Queen Eleanor, Victor Lee's 
 chamber was the place in the Lodge of Woodstock more 
 peculiarly the haunt of evil spirits. I pray you, young 
 man, tell me this dream or vision of yours." 
 
 " With all my heart, sir," said Wildrake — then addres- 
 sing his patron, who began to interfere, he said, "Tush, 
 sir, you have had the discourse for an hour, and why 
 should not 1 hold forth in my turn ^ By this darkness, if 
 you keep me silent any longer I will turn Independent 
 preacher, and stand up in your despite for the freedom 
 of private judgment. — And so, reverend sir, 1 was dream- 
 ing of a carnal divertisement called a bull-baiting ; and 
 methought there were venturing dogs at head, as merrily 
 as e'er 1 saw them at Tutbury-BuU -running ; and me- 
 thought 1 heard some one say, there was the Devil come 
 to have a sight of the bull-ring. Well, I thought that, 
 gadswoons, I would have a peep at his Infernal Majesty. 
 So I looked, and there was a butcher in a greasy wool- 
 len, with his steel by his side ; but he was none of the
 
 >VOOD STOCK. 
 
 143 
 
 Devil. And there was a drunken cavalier with his mouth 
 full of oaths, and his stomach full of emptiness, and a 
 gold laced waistcoat in a very dilapidated condition, and 
 a ragged hat with a piece of feather in it ; and he was 
 none of the Devil neither. And there was a miller, his 
 hands dusty with meal, and every atom of it stolen : and 
 there was a vintner, his green apron stained with wine, 
 and every drop of it sophisticated ; but neither was the 
 old gentleman 1 looked for to be detected among those 
 artizans of iniquity. At length, sir, 1 saw a grave person 
 with cropped hair, a pair of longish and projecting ears, 
 a band as broad as a slobbering bib under his chin, a 
 brown coat surjnounted by a Geneva cloak, and 1 had 
 old Nicliolas at once in his genuine paraphernalia, by — ." 
 
 " Shame, shame !" said Colonel Everard. *' What ! 
 behave thus to an old gentleman and a divine !" 
 
 "Nay, Jet him proceed," said the minister, with per- 
 fect equanimity, " if thy friend or secretary is gibing, I 
 must liave less patience than becomes my profession, if I 
 could not bear an idle jest, and forgive him who makes 
 it. Or, if on the other hand, the Enemy has really pre- 
 sented himself to the young man in such a guise as he 
 intimates, wherefore should we be surprised that he, who 
 can take upon him the form of an angel of light, should 
 be able to assmne that of a fra 1 and peccable mortal, 
 whose spiritual calling and profession ought, indeed, to 
 induce him to make his life an example to others; but 
 whose conduct, nevertheless, such is the imperfection of 
 our unassisted nature, sometimes rather presents us with 
 a warning of what we should shun .^" 
 
 " Now, by the mass, honest dominie — I mean reverend 
 sir — I crave you a thousand pnrdons," said VVildrake, 
 penetrated by the quietness and patience of the presby- 
 ter's rebuke. " By St. George, if quiet patience will do 
 it, thou art fit to play a game at foils with the Devil him- 
 self, and I would be contented to hold stakes." 
 
 As he concluded an apolo2:y, which was certainly not 
 iMicalled for, and seemed to be received in perfectly good 
 part, they approached so close to. the exterior door of
 
 144 
 
 \V(OD STOCK. 
 
 the Lodge, that they were challenged with the emphatic 
 Stand, by a sentinel who mounted guard there. Colonel 
 Everard replied, ./? friend ; and the sentinel repeating 
 his command, " Stand, friend," proceeded to call the 
 corporal of the guard. The corporal came forth, and at 
 the same time turned out his guard. Colonel Everard 
 gave his name and designation, as well as those of his 
 companions, on which the corporal said, " he doubted 
 not there would be orders for his instant admission ; but, 
 in the first place, Mr. Tomkins must be consulted, that 
 he might learn their honours' mind." 
 
 " How, sir !" said the Colonel, " do you, knowing 
 who I am, presume to keep me on the outside of your 
 post ?" 
 
 " Not, if your honour pleases to enter," said the cor- 
 poral, ^' and undertakes to be my warranty ; but such 
 are the orders of my post." 
 
 " Nay, then, do your duty," said the Colonel ; '' but 
 are the cavaliers up, or what is the matter, that you keep 
 so close and strict a watch ?" 
 
 The fellow gave no distinct answer, but muttered be- 
 tween his moustaches something about the Enemy, and 
 the roaring Lion who goeth about seeking what he may 
 devour. Presently afterwards Tomkins appeared, fol- 
 lowed by two servants bearing lights in great standing 
 brass candlesticks. They marched before Colonel 
 Everard and his party, keeping as close to each other as 
 two cloves of the same orange, and starting from time to 
 time, and shouldering as they passed through sundry 
 intricate passages, they led up a large and ample wooden 
 stair-case, the banisters, rail, and lining of which were 
 executed in black oak, and finally into a long saloon, or 
 parlour, where there was a prodigious fire and about 
 twelve candles of the largest size distributed in sconces 
 against the wall. There were seated the Commissioners, 
 who now held in their power the ancient mansion and 
 royal domain of Woodstock.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 146 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The bloody bear, an independent beast, 
 Unlick'd lo fonns, in gn-ans lie liad express'd— 
 
 ^exl him the buffoon ape, as aiheists use, 
 Mimick'd all secis, and had his own to choose. 
 
 Hind and Panther. 
 
 The Strong light in the parlour which we have de- 
 scribed, served to enable Eveiard easily to recognize his 
 acquaintances, Desborongh, Harrison, and Blfclson,\\ho 
 had assembled theujselvLS round an oak table of iaige 
 dimensions, placed near the blazing chinmey, on uhich 
 were arranged wine, and ale, and materials lor snioking, 
 then the general indulgence of the laue. There was a 
 species of moveable cupboard set betwixt the table and 
 the door, calculated originally fcr a display of plate upon 
 grand occasions, but at present only used as a screen ; 
 whirli purpose it served so effectually, that ere he had 
 coasted around it, Everard heard the following fragment 
 of what Desborongh was saying, in his coarse strong 
 voice : — " Sent him to share with us, I'se v\anaut ye — 
 It was always his Excellency n)y brother-in-law's uay — 
 if he made a treat for five friends, he would invite njore 
 than the table could hold — 1 have known iiim ask three 
 men lo eat two eggs." 
 
 " Hush, hush," said Bletson ; and the servants mak- 
 ing their appearance fiotn behind the tall cup-board, an- 
 nounced Colonel Everard. It may not be unpleasing to 
 the reader to have a description of the party into which 
 he now entered. 
 
 Desborongh was a stout, bull-necked man, of middle 
 size, with heavy vulgar features, grizzled bushy eye- 
 brows, and wall-eyes. The flourish of his poweilul rela- 
 
 13 VOL. I.
 
 146 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 tive's fortunes, had burst forth in the finery of his dress, 
 which was much more ornauiental than was usual among 
 the roundlieads. There was embroidery on his cloak, 
 and lace upon his band ; his liat displayed a feather with 
 a golden clasp, and all his habiliments were those of a 
 cavalier, or follower of the court, rather than the })lain 
 dress of a parliamentarian officer. Bui, Heaven knows, 
 thci-e was little of court- like grace or dignity in the per- 
 son or demeanour of the individual, who became his fine 
 suit as the hog on the sign-post does his gilded armour. 
 It was not that he was p )sitively deformed, or misshaped, 
 for, taken in detail, the figure was well enough. But 
 his limbs seemed to act upon different and contradictory 
 principles. They were not, as the play says, in a con- 
 catenation accordingly ; — the right hand moved as il" it 
 were upon bad terms with the left, and the legs showed 
 an inclination to foot it in different and opposite direc- 
 tions. In short, to use an extravagant comparison, the 
 members of Colonel Desborou2;h seemed rather to re- 
 semble the disputatious representatives of a federative 
 congress, than the well-oidered union of the orders oi" the 
 state, in a firm and well-compacted monaichy, wiiere. 
 each holds his own place, and all obey the dictates of a 
 common head. 
 
 General Harrison, the second of the Commissioners, 
 was a tall, thin, middle-aged man, who had risen into his 
 high situation in the army, and hi^ intimacy with Crotn- 
 well, by his dauntless courage in the field, and the pop- 
 ularity lie had acquired by his exalted enthusiasm 
 amongst the military saints, secretaries, and Independ- 
 ents, who composed the strength of the existing army. 
 Harrison was of mean extraction, and bred up to his fatli- 
 er's employment of a butcher. Nevertheless, his appear- 
 ance, though coarse, was not vulgar, like that of Desbo- 
 rough, who had so much the advantage of him in birth 
 and education. He had, as we have said, a masculine 
 height and strength of figure, was well made, and in his 
 manner announced a rough military character, which 
 might be feared, but could not be the object of contempt
 
 WOODSTOCK. 147 
 
 or ridicule. His aquiline nose and dark black eyes set 
 off lo so. lie advantage a countenance otherwise irregular, 
 and the wild enthusiasm that sometimes sparkled in them 
 as he dilated on his opinions to others, and olten seemed 
 to shuuber under his long dark eye-lashes as he mused 
 upon tiiem himself, gave something strikingly wild, and 
 even noble, lo liis aspect. He was one of the chief 
 leaders of those who were called Fifth-INJonarchy men, 
 who, going even beyond the usual fanaticism of the age, 
 presumptuously interpreted the Book of the Revelations 
 after their own fancies, considered that the second Ad- 
 vent of the INIessiah, and the Millenium, or reiiin of the 
 Saints ujion earth, was close at hand, and that they them- 
 selves, illuminated, as they believed, with the power of 
 foreseeing these approaching events, were the choice in- 
 struments for the establishment of the New Reign, or 
 Fifth iMonarchy, as it was called, and were fated also to 
 win its honours, whether celestial or terrestrial. 
 
 When this spirit of entliusiasm which operated like a 
 partial insanity, was not immediately afiecting Harrison's 
 mind, he was a shrewd worldly man, and a good soldier ; 
 one who missed no opportunity of mending his fortune, 
 and who, in expecting the exaltation of the Fifih i\ion- 
 archy, was, in the meanwhile, a ready instrument for the 
 establishment of the Lord General's sujiremacy. Wheth- 
 er it was owing to his early occupation, and habits of 
 indifference to pain or bloodshed, to natural disposition 
 and want of feeling, or, finally, to the awakened charac- 
 ter of his enthusiasm, which made bin) look upon those 
 who opposed him, as opprsing the Divine will, and there- 
 fore meriting no favour or mercy, is not easy to say. 
 But all agreed, that after a victory, or the successful 
 storm of a town, Harrison was one of the most cruel and 
 pitiless men in Cromwell's army ; always urging some 
 misapplied text to authorize the continued execution of 
 the fugitives, and sometimes even putting to death those 
 who had surrendered jhemselvcs prisoners. It was said, 
 that at times the recollection of some of those cruelties'
 
 148 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 troubled his conscience, and disturbed the dreams of 
 beatification in which his imagination indulged. 
 
 When Everard entered the apartment, this true repre- 
 sentative of the fanatical soldiers of the day, who filled 
 those ranks and regiments which Cromwell had political- 
 ly kept on foot, while he piocured the reduction of those 
 in which the Presbyterian interest predon)inated, was 
 seated a little apart from the others, his legs crossed, 
 and stretched out at length towards the fire, his head 
 resting on his elbow, and turned upwards, as if studying, 
 with the most profound gravity, the half-seen carving of 
 the Gothic roof. 
 
 Bletson remains to be mentioned, who, in person and 
 figure, was diametrically different from the other two. 
 There was neither foppery nor slovenliness in his exterior, 
 nor had he any marks of military service or rank about 
 his person. A small walking rapier seemed merely 
 worn as a badge of his rank as a gentleman, without his 
 hand having the least purpose of becoming acquainted 
 with the hilt, or his eye with the blade. His counte- 
 nance was thin and acute, marked with lines which thought 
 rather than age had traced upon it ; and a habitual sneer 
 on his countenance, even when he least wished to ex- 
 press contempt on his features, seemed to assure the per- 
 son addressed, that in Bletson he conversed with a per- 
 son of intellect far superior to his own. This was a 
 triumph of intellect only, for on all occasions of difference 
 respecting speculative opinions, and indeed on all con- 
 troversies whatsoever, Bletson avoided the ultimate I'atio 
 of blows and knocks. 
 
 Yet this peaceful gentleman had found himself obliged 
 to serve personally in the Parliamentary army at the 
 commencement of the Civil War, till happening unluck- 
 ily to come in contact with the fiery Prince Rupert, his 
 retreat was judged so precipitate, that it required all the 
 shelter his friends could afford, to keep him free of an 
 impeachnient or a court-martial. But as Bletson spoke 
 ■well, and with great effect, in the House of Commons, 
 which was his natural sphere and was on that account
 
 >VOODSTOCK. 149 
 
 high in the estimation of his party, his behaviour at Edge- 
 hill was passed over, and he continued to take an active 
 share in all the political events of that bustling period, 
 though he faced not again the actual front of war. 
 
 Bfelson's theoretical principles of poHtics had long 
 inclined him to espouse the opinions of Harrison and 
 others, who adopted the visionary idea of establishing a 
 pure democralical republic in so extensive a country as 
 Britain. This was a rash theory, where there is such 
 an inhiiite difference betwixt ranks, habits, education, and 
 morals — where there is such an injmense disproportion 
 betwixt the wealth of individuals — and where a large 
 proportion of the inhabitants consists of the inferior classes 
 of the large towns and manufacturing districts — men 
 unfitted to bear that share in the direction of a state, which 
 must be exercised by the members of a republic in the 
 proper sense of the word. Accordingly, so soon as the 
 experiment was made, it became obvious that no such 
 form of government could be adopted with the smallest 
 chance of stability ; and the question came only to be, 
 whether the remnant, or, as it was vulgarly called, the 
 Rump of the Long Parliament, now reduced by the 
 seclusion of so many of the members to a few scores of 
 persons, should continue, in spite of their unpopidarity, 
 to rule the affairs of Biitain ? Whether thty should 
 cast all loose by dissolving themselves, and issuing writs 
 to convoke a new Parliament, the composition of which 
 no one could answer for, any more than lor the measures 
 they might take when assembled f Or lastly, whether 
 Cromwell, as actually happened, was not to throw the 
 sword into the balance, and boldly possess himself of 
 that power which the remnant of ilie Parliament were 
 unable to hold, and yet ah aid to resinn ? 
 
 Such being the state of pr.rties, the Council of State, 
 in distributing the good tl.'ires in their gift, endeavoured 
 to soothe and gratify the army, as a f)eogar fiijigs crusts 
 to a growling n:asiiff. In this view Deshorough had 
 been creot< d d Con.n'issioiier in the \^ oodstock matter 
 
 13* VOL. I.
 
 150 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 to gratify Cromwell, Harrison to soothe the fierce Fifth- 
 Moiiarcliy men, and Bletson as a sincere republican, and 
 one ot their own leaven. 
 
 But if they supposed Bletson had the least intention 
 of becoming a martyr to his republicanism, or submitting 
 to any serious loss on account of it, they much mistook 
 the man. He entertained their principles sincerely, and 
 not the less tliat they weie found iinpracticable ; for the 
 miscarriage of his experiment no more converts the po- 
 litical speculator, than the explosion of a retort unde- 
 ceives an alchemist. But Bletson was quite prepared to 
 submit to Cromwell, or any one else who might be 
 possessed of the actual authority. He was a ready sub- 
 ject in practice to the powers existing, and made little 
 difference betwixt various kinds of goverimient, holding 
 in theory all to be nearly equal in imperfection, as soon 
 as they diverged from the model of Harrington's Oceana. 
 Cromwell had already been tampering with him, like 
 wax between his finger and thumb, and which he was 
 ready shortly to seal with, smiling at the same time to 
 himself when he beheld the Council of State giving re- 
 wards to Bletson as their faithful adherent, while he him- 
 self was secure of his allegiance, how soon soever the 
 expected change of government should take place. 
 
 But Bletson was still more attached to his metaphysical 
 than his political creed, and carried his doctrines of the 
 perfectibility of mankind as far as he did those respecting 
 the conceivable perfection of a model of government ; 
 and as in the one case he declared against all power 
 which did not emanate from the people themselves, so^ 
 in his moral speculations, he was unwilling to refer any of 
 the phenomena of nature to a final cause. When push- 
 ed, indeed, very hard, Bletson was compelled to mutter 
 some inarticulate and unintelligible doctrines concerning 
 an Animus Mundi, or Creative Power in the works of 
 Nature, by which she originally called into existence, and 
 still continues to preserve, her works. To this power, 
 he said, some of the purest metaphysicians rendered a 
 certain degree of homage ; nor was he himself inchned
 
 AVOODSTOCK. 
 
 151 
 
 absolutely to censure those, who, by institution of holi- 
 days, choral dances, songs, and harmless feasts and liba- 
 tions, might be disposed to celebrate the great goddess 
 Nature ; at least dancing, singing, feasting, and sporting, 
 being comfortable things to both young and old, they might 
 as well sport, dance, and feast, in honour of such appoint- 
 ed hoHdays, as under any other pretext. But then this 
 moderate show of religion was to be practised under such 
 exceptions as are admitted by the Highgate oath ; and 
 no one was to be compelled to dance, drink, sing, or 
 feast, whose taste did not happen tj incline them to such 
 diveriisements ; nor was any one to be compelled to wor- 
 shi}) the creative power, whether under the name of the 
 Animus Jllundi, or any other whatsoever. The interfer- 
 ence of the Deity in the affiiirs of mankind he entirely 
 disowned, having proved to his own satisfaction that the 
 idea originated entirely in priestcraft. In short, with the 
 shadowy metaphysical exception aforesaid, IMr. Joshua 
 Bletson of Darlington, member for Little-creed, came as 
 near the predicament of an atheist, as it is perhaps pos- 
 sible for a man to do. But we say this was the necessa- 
 ry salvo ; for we have known many like Bletson, whose 
 curtains have been shrewdly shaken by superstition, 
 though their fears were unsanctioned by any religious 
 faith. The devils, we are assured, beheve and trenjble ; 
 but on earth there are many, who, in worse phght than 
 even the natural children of perdition, tremble without 
 believing, and fear even while they blaspheme. 
 
 It follows, of course, that nothing could be treated 
 with more scorn by Mr. Bletson than the debates about 
 Prelacy and Presbytery, about Presbytery and Indepen- 
 dency, ahout Quakers and Anabaptists, Muggletonians 
 and Brownists, and all the various sects by which the 
 Civil War had commenced, and by which its dissensions 
 were still continued, "it was," he said, " as if beasts 
 of burtiicn should quarrel amongst themselves al)0iit the 
 fashion of their halters and pack saddles, instead of em- 
 bracing a favourable opportunity of throwing them aside." 
 Other witty and pithy remarks he used to make when
 
 162 \VOOD. STOCK. 
 
 time and place suited ; for instance, at the club called 
 the Rota, frequented by Saint John, and established by 
 Harrington for the free discussion of political and relig- 
 ious subjects. 
 
 But when Bletson was out of this academy, or strong- 
 hold of philosophy, he was very cautious how he carried 
 his contempt of the general prejudice in favour of relig- 
 ion and Christianity further than an implied objection or 
 a sneer. If lie had an opportunity of talking in private 
 with an ingenious and intelligent youth, he sometimes 
 attempted to make a proselyte, and showed much ad- 
 dress in bribing the vanity of inexperience, by susi;gesting 
 that a mind like his ought to spurn the prejuoTces im- 
 pressed upon it in childhood ; and assuming the latus 
 clavus of reason, assuring him that such as he, laying 
 aside the bulla of juvenile incapacity, as Bletson called 
 it, should proceed to examine and decide for himself. 
 It frequently happened, that the youth was induced to 
 adopt the doctrines in whole, or in part, of the sage who 
 had seen his natural genius, and who had urged him to 
 exert it in examining, detecting, and declp.riijg for him- 
 self; and thus flattery gave proselytes to infidelity, which 
 could not have been gained by all the powerful elo- 
 quence, or artful sophistry, of the infidel. 
 
 These attempts to extend the influence of what v.as 
 called free-thinking and ph!losoj)hy, were carried on, as 
 we have hinted, wiih a caution dictated by the timidity 
 of the philosopher's disposition. He was conscious his 
 doctrines wcire suspected, and his proceedings watched, 
 by the two principal sects of Prelatisls and Presbyterians, 
 who, however inimical to each otiier, were still more 
 hostile to one who was an opponent, not only to a church 
 establishment of any kind, but to every denomination of 
 Christianity. He found it more easy to shroud himself 
 among the Independents, whose demands were for a 
 general liberty of cojisoience, or nn unliu)ited toleration^ 
 and whose faith, difFerins; in all respects and particulars, 
 was by si:na pushed into such wild eiTors, as to get totally 
 beyond the bounds of every speci'^s o!" Ciiiisiianity, and
 
 Woodstock- 
 
 is: 
 
 approach very near to infidelity itself, as extremes ol' 
 each kind are said to approach each other. Bletson 
 mixed a good deal among those sectaries : and such was 
 his confidence in his own logic and address, that he is 
 supposed to have entertained hopes ot" bringing to his 
 opinions in time the enthusiastic Vane, as well as the no 
 less enthusiastic. Harrison, providing he could but get 
 them to resign their visions of a Filth JMonarchy, and in- 
 duce them to be contented with a reign of Philosophers 
 in England for the natural period of their lives, instead 
 of the reign of the Saints during the Millenium. 
 
 Such was the singular group into which Everard was 
 now introduced ; showing, in their various opinions, upon 
 how many devious coasts hunjan nature may make ship- 
 wreck, when she has once let go her hold on the anchor 
 which religion has given her to lean upon ; ihe acute 
 self-conceit and worldly learning of Bletson — the rash 
 and ignorant conclusions of the fierce and under-bred 
 Harrison, leading them into the opposite extremes of en- 
 thusiasm and infidelity, while Desboiough, constitutionally 
 stupid, thought nothing about religion at all ; and while the 
 others were active in making sail on different but equally 
 erioneous courses, he might be said to perish like a ves- 
 sel, which springs a leak and founders in the roadstead. 
 It was wonderful to behold what a strange variety of mis- 
 takes and errors, on tlie part of the King and his INJinis- 
 ters, on the part of the Parliament and their leaders, on 
 the part of the allied kingdoms of Scotland and England 
 towards each other, had combined to rear up men of 
 such dangerous opinions and interested characters among 
 the arbiters of the destiny of Britain. 
 
 Those who argue for party's sake, will see all the faults 
 on the one side, wiihoiit deigning to look at those on the 
 other ; those who study history for instruction, \AiIl per- 
 ceive that nothing but the want of concession on either 
 side, and the deadly height to which the animosity of the 
 King's and Parliament's parties had arisen, could have 
 so totally overthrown the well-poised balance of the Eng-
 
 154 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 lish constitution. But we hasten to quit poltical reflec- 
 tions, the rather that ours, we believe, will please neither 
 Whig nor Tory. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Three form a College — an you g'rve us four, 
 Lei liim bring his share with him. 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 Mr. Bletsox arose, and paid his respects to Colonel 
 Everard, with the ease and courtesy of a gentleman of 
 the time ; though on every account grieved at his intru- 
 sion, as a religious man who held his free-thinking prin- 
 ciples in detestation, and would effectually prevent his 
 conversion of Harrison, and even of Desborough, if any- 
 thing could be moulded out of such a clod to the worship 
 of the Animus Mundi. Moreover, Bletson knew Everard 
 to be a man of steady probity, and by no means disposed 
 to close with a scheme on which he had successfully 
 sounded the other two, and which was calculated to assure 
 the Commissioners of some little private indemnification 
 for the trouble they were to give themselves in the public 
 business. The philosopher was yet less pleased when|j|e 
 saw the magistrate and the pastor who had met him in his 
 flight of the preceding evening, when he had been seen, 
 panna non bene relicta, with cloak and doublet left 
 behind him. 
 
 The presence of Colonel Everard was as unpleasing 
 to Desborough as to Bletson ; but the former having no 
 philosophy in him, nor an idea that it was possible for any 
 man to resist helping hiinself out of untold money, was 
 chiefly embarrassed by the thought, that the plunder which 
 they might be able to achieve out of their trust, might, 
 by this unwelcome addition to their nmnber, be divided 
 into four parts instead of three ; and this reflection addtfd
 
 WOODSTOCK. 155 
 
 to the natural awkwardness with which he grumbled forth 
 a sort of welcome, addressed to Everard. 
 
 As for Harrison, lie rem;iiiied like one on higher 
 thoughts intent ; his posture unmoved, his eyes fixed on 
 the ceiling as before, and no part of him indicated the 
 least consciousness that the cou»pa"ny had been more than 
 doubled around him. 
 
 ]\Jeantime, Everard took his place at the table, as a 
 man who assumed his own rigiit, and pointed to his com- 
 panions to sit down nearer the loot of the board. Wild- 
 rake so far misunderstood his signals, as to sit down 
 above the Mayor ; but, rallying his recollection at a look 
 from his patron, he rose and took his place lower, whistl- 
 ing, however, as he went, a sound at which the conjpany 
 started, as at a freedom highly unbecoujing. To com- 
 plete his indecorum, he seized upon a pipe, and filling it 
 from a large lobacco4>ox, was soon immersed in a cloud 
 of his own raising ; from which a hand shortly after 
 emerged, seized on the black-jack of ale, withdrew it 
 within the vapoury sanctuary, and, alter a potentnal 
 draught, replaced it upon the table, its owner beginning 
 to renew the cloud which his intermitted exercise of the 
 tube had almost allowed to subside. 
 
 Nobody made any observation on his conduct, out of 
 respect, [)robably, to Colonel Everard, who bit liis lip, 
 but continued silent ; aware that censure might extract 
 someiliing more unequivocally characteristic of a cavalier, 
 from his refractory companion. As silence seemed too 
 awkward, and the otheis niade no advances to break it, 
 beyond the ordinary salutation, Colonel Everard at length 
 said, " 1 presume, gentlemen, that you are someuhat 
 surprised at my arrival here, and thus intruding m} self 
 into your meeting." 
 
 " Why the dickens should we be surprised, Cobnel ?^^ 
 said Desborough; "we know his Excellency, mv brother- 
 in-law Noll's — I mean my Lord Cromwell's way, of 
 over-fjiiarterlng his men in the towns he marches through. 
 Tjiou'hast obtained a share in our commission.^"
 
 156 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " And in that," said Bletson, smiling and bowing, " the 
 Lord General has given us the most acceptable colleague 
 that could have been added to our number. No doubt 
 your authority for joining with us must be under warrant 
 of the Council of State ?" 
 
 " Of that, gentlemen," said the Colonel, " .1 will pres- 
 ently advise you." — He took out his warrant accordingly, 
 and was about to commiuiicate the contents ; but ob- 
 serving that there were three or four half- empty flasks 
 upon tlie table, that Deshoroun;!) looked more stupid than 
 usual, and that the philosoj^her's eyes were reeling in his 
 head, notwithstanding the tempeiance of Bletson's usual 
 habits, he concluded that they had been fortifying them- 
 selves against the horrors of the hnunted mansion, by 
 laying in a store of what is called Dutch courage, and 
 therefore prudently resolved to postpone his n)ore im- 
 portant business with them till the cooler hour of morning. 
 He therefore, instead of presenting the General's warrant 
 superseding their coniniission, contented himself with 
 replying, — " My business has, of course, some reterence 
 to your proceedings here. But here is — excuse my cu- 
 riosity — a reverend gentleman," pointing to Holdenough, 
 " who has told me tliat you are so strangely embarrassed 
 here, as to require both the civil and spiritual authority 
 to enable you to keep possession of Woodstock." 
 
 " Before we go into the matter," said Bletson, blush- 
 ing up to the eyes at the recollection of his own fears, 
 so manifestly displayed, yet so inconsistent with his prin- 
 ciples, " 1 should like to know who this other stranger is, 
 who has come with the worthy magistrate, and the no 
 less worthy Presbyterian." 
 
 *' Meaning me ?" said Wildrake, laying his pipe 
 aside ; " Gadzooks, the time hath been that I could have 
 answered the question with a better title ; but at present I 
 am only his honour's poor clerk, or secretary, whichever 
 is the current phrase." 
 
 " 'Fore Geor-^e, my lively blade, thou art a frank 
 fellow of thv tattle," said Desborough. " There is my 
 secretary Tomkins, whom men sillily enough call Fib-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 157 
 
 bet, and the honourable Lieutenant General Harrison's 
 secretary Bibbet, who are now ai supper below stairs, 
 that duist not lor their ears speak a phrase above ilieir 
 breath in the presence of their betters, unless to answer a 
 question." 
 
 " Yes, Colonel Everard," said the philoso| her with 
 his quiet smile, glad, apparently, to divert the t onversa- 
 tion from the topic ot" last night's alaru), and recollections 
 which humbled his self-love and sell-satisiaction, — " )es; 
 and when Master Fibbet and Master Bibbet do speak, 
 their affirmations are as much in a common mould ol mu- 
 tual attestation, as their nnmes v\ould accord in the verses 
 of a poet. If Master Fibbet happens to tell a fiction, 
 Master Hil bet swears it as tiuih. If Master Bibbet 
 chances to have gotten drunk in the fear of the Lord, 
 Master Fibbet swears he is sober. 1 have called my 
 own secretary Gibbet, though his naiTiC chances to be 
 only Gibeon, a worthy Israelite at your service, but as 
 pure a youth as ever picked a lamb-bone at Paschal. 
 But I call him Gibbet, mert-ly to make up the holy trefoil 
 with another rhyme. This squire of thine. Colonel 
 Everard, looks as if he might be worthy to be coupled 
 with the rest of the fraternity." 
 
 *' Not 1, truly," said the cavalier ; " I'll be coupled 
 with no Jew that was ever whelped, and no Jewess 
 neither." 
 
 " Scorn not for that, young man," said the philosopher ; 
 *• the Jews are, in point of religion, the elder brethren, 
 you know." 
 
 " The Jews older than the Christians ?" said Desbo- 
 rough ; *' 'fore George, they will have thee before the 
 General Assembly, Bletson, if thou venturest to say so." 
 
 Wildrake laughed without ceren^ony at the gross igno- 
 rance of Desborough, and joined by a sniggling response 
 from behind the cupboard, which, when inquired into, 
 proved to be produced by the serving men. These 
 worthies, timorous as their betters, when they had set 
 down the lights, and were supposed to have left the room, 
 
 14 VOL. 1.
 
 168 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 * 
 
 had only absconded behind their present place of con- 
 ceahnent. 
 
 *' How now, ye rogues," said Bletson, angrily ; " do 
 you not know your duty better ?" 
 
 " We beg your worthy honour's pardon," said one of 
 the men, " but we had set the candlesticks down on the 
 table, and truly we dared not go down stairs till we should 
 get a light." 
 
 " A light, ye cowardly poltroons ?" said the phi- 
 losopher, " what — to show which of you looks palest 
 when a rat squeaks ? — but take a candlestick and begone, 
 you cowardly villains ! the devils you are so much afraid 
 of must be but paltry kites, if ihey hawk at such bats as 
 you are." 
 
 The servants, without replying, took up one of the 
 candlesticks, and prepared to retreat. Trusty Tomkins 
 at the head of the troop, when suddenly, as they arriv- 
 ed at the door of the parlour, which had been left half 
 open, it was shut violently. The three terrified domes- 
 tics tumbled back into the middle of the room, as if a 
 shot had been discharged in their face, and all who were 
 at the table started to their feet. 
 
 Colonel Everard was incapable of a moment's fear, 
 even if any thing frightful had been seen ; but he re- 
 mained stationary, to see what his companions would do, 
 and to get at the bottom, if possible, of the cause of their 
 alarm upon an occasion so trifling. The philosopher 
 seemed to think that he was the person chiefly concerned 
 to show manhood on the occasion. 
 
 He walked to the door accordingly, murmuring at the 
 cowardice of the servants ; but at such a snail's pace, 
 that it seemed he would most willingly have been antici- 
 pated by any one whom his reproaches had roused to 
 exertion. " Cowardly blockheads !" he said at last, 
 seizing hold of the handle of the door, but without turn- 
 ing it effectually round — " dare you not open a door .^" 
 — (still fumbling with the lock) — *' dare you not go down 
 a stair-case without a light ^ Here, bring me the candle,
 
 WOODSTOCK. 159 
 
 you cowardly villains ! — By Heaven, something sighs 
 on the outside !" 
 
 As he spoke, he let go the handle of the parlour door, 
 and stepped back a pace or two into the apartment, with 
 cheeks as pale as the band he wore. 
 
 " Deus adjutor mens V said tiie Presbyterian cler- 
 gyman, rising from his seat. " Give place, sir," ad- 
 dressing Bletson ; " it would seem 1 know more of this 
 matter than thou, and 1 bless Heaven I am armed for 
 the conflict." 
 
 Bold as a grenadier about to mount a breach, yet with 
 the same belief in the existence of a great danger to be 
 encountered, as well as the same reliance in the good- 
 ness of his cause, the worthy man stepped before the 
 philosophical Bletson, and taking a light from a sconce in 
 one hand, quietly opened the door with the other, and 
 standing in the threshold, said, " Here is nothing !" 
 
 *' And who expected to see anything," said Bletson, 
 " excepting those terrified oafs, who take fright at every 
 puff of wind that whistles through the passage of this old 
 dungeon V 
 
 " Mark you, Master Tomkins," said one of the wait- 
 ing-men in a whisper to the steward, — " See how boldly 
 the minister pressed forward before all of them. Ah ! 
 Master Tomkins, our parson is the real commissioned 
 officer of the church — your lay preachers are no better 
 than a parcel of club-men and volunteers." 
 
 " Follow me those who list," said Master Hold- 
 enough, " or go before me those who choose, I w^ill walk 
 through the habitable places of this house before I leave 
 it, and satisfy myself whether Satan hath really mingled 
 himself among these dreary dens of ancient wickedness, 
 or whether, like the wicked of whom holy David speak- 
 eth, we are afraid, and flee when no one pursueth." 
 
 Harrison, who had heard these words, sprung from 
 his seat, and drawing his sword, exclaimed, " Were 
 there as many fiends in the house as there are hairs on 
 my head, upon this cause I will charge them up to their 
 very trenches !"
 
 160 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 So saying, he brandished his weapon, and pressed to 
 the head ol the column, wliere he moved side by side 
 witli the minister. The Mayor of Woodstock next join- 
 ed the body, thinking himself safer perhaps in the com^ 
 pany of his pastor ; and the whole train moved forward 
 in close order, accompanied by the servants bearing lights, 
 to search the Lodge for some cause of that panic with 
 which they seemed to be suddenly seized. 
 
 " Nay, take me with you my friends," said Colonel 
 Everard, who had looked on in surprise, and was now 
 about to follow the party, when Bletson laid hold on his 
 cloak, and begged him to remain. 
 
 " You see, my good Colonel," he said, affecting a 
 courage which his shaking voice belied, " here are only 
 you and 1, and honest Desborough, left behind, in garri- 
 son, while all the others are absent on a sally. We must 
 not hazard the whole troops in one sortie — that were un- 
 military — Ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, what means all this .^" said 
 Everard. " 1 heard a foolish tale about apparitions as 
 I came this way, and now 1 find you all half mad with 
 fear, and cannot get a word of sense among so many of 
 you. Fie, Colonel Desborough — fie. Master Bletson — 
 try to compose yourselves, and let me know, in Heaven's 
 name, the cause of all this disturbance. One would be 
 apt to think your brains were turned." 
 
 " And so mine well may," said Desborough, '* ay, 
 and overturned too since my bed last night was turned 
 upside down, and I was placed for ten minutes heels 
 uppermost, and head downmost, like a bullock going to 
 be shod." 
 
 " What means this nonsense, Master Bletson ? — Des- 
 borou2;h must have had the nigrht-mare." 
 
 " No, faith, Colonel, the goblins, or whatever else they 
 were, had been favourable to honest Desborough, for 
 they reposed the whole of his person on that part of his 
 body which — Hark, did you not hear something ^ — is 
 the central point of gravity, namely his head,"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 161 
 
 **Did you see anything to alarm you ?" said the Col- 
 onel. 
 
 *' Nothing," said Bletson ; " but we heard helhsh 
 noises, as all our people did ; and J, believing little of 
 ghosts and apparitions, concluded the cavaliers were 
 taking us at advantage ; so renienibering Rainsborough's 
 fate, 1 e'en juniped the window, and ran to Woodstock, 
 to call the soldiers to the rescue of Harrison and Des- 
 borough." 
 
 " And did you not first go to see what the danger was f" 
 
 " Ah, my good friend, you forget that ] laid down my 
 commission at the time of the self-denying ordinance. 
 It would have been quite inconsistent with my duty as a 
 Parliament-man, to be brawling amidst a set of ruffians, 
 without any military ai'thority. No — when the Parha- 
 ment commanded me to sheathe my sword, Colonel, I 
 have too much veneration for their authority, to be found 
 again with it drawn in my hand." 
 
 *' But the Parliament," said Desborough hastily, '' did 
 not command you to use your heels when your hands 
 Tvould have saved a man from choking. Odds dickens ! 
 you might have stopped when }ou saw my bed canted 
 heels uppermost, and me half-stifled in the bed-clothes — 
 you might, 1 say, have stopped and lent a hand to put 
 it to rights, instead of jumping out of window, like a 
 new-shorn sheep, as soon as you had run across my 
 room." 
 
 " Nay, worshipful Master Desborough," said Bletson, 
 winking on Everard, to show that he was playing on his 
 thick-skulled colleague, " how could I tell your particular 
 mode of reposing? — there are many tastes — I have known 
 men who slept by choice on a slope or angle of forty- 
 five." 
 
 " Yes, but did ever a man sleep standing on his head, 
 except by miracle .^" said Desborough, 
 
 " Now, as to miracles — " said the philosopher, con- 
 fident in the pif^sence of Eveiard, besides that an op* 
 portunity of scoffing at religion really in some degree 
 
 14* VOL. I.
 
 162 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 diverted his fear — " I leave these out of the question, 
 seeing that the evidence on such subjects seems as Htlle 
 qualified to carry conviction, as a horse-hair to land a 
 leviathan." 
 
 A loud clap of thunder, or a noise as formidable rang 
 through the Lodge as the scoffer had ended, which struck 
 him pale and motionless, and made Desborough throw 
 himself on his knees, and repeat exclamations and prayers 
 in much admiied confusion. 
 
 " There must be contrivance here," exclaimed Eve- 
 rard ; and snatching one of the candles from a sconce, 
 he rushed out of the apartment, little heeding the entrea- 
 ties of the philosopher, who, in the extremity of his 
 distress, conjured him by the Animus Mundi to remain to 
 the assistance of a distressed philosopher endangered by 
 witches, and a Parliament-man assaulted by ruffians. 
 As for Desborough, he only gaped like a clowm in a pan- 
 tomime ; and, doubtful whether to follow or stop, his 
 natural indolence prevailed, and he sat still. 
 
 When on the landing-place of the stairs, Everard 
 paused a moment to consider which was the best course 
 to take. He heard the voices of men talking fast and 
 loud, like people who wish to drown their fears, in the 
 low^er story ; and aware that nothing could be discover- 
 ed by those whose inquiries were conducted in a manner 
 so noisy, he resolved to proceed in a different direction, 
 and examine the second floor, which he had now gained. 
 
 He had known every corner, both of the inliabited and 
 uninhabited part of the mansion, and availed himself of 
 the candle, to traverse two or three intricate passages, 
 which he was afraid he might not remember with suffi- 
 cient accuracy. This movement conveyed him to a sort 
 of Oeuil-de-beufj an octagon vestibule, or small hall, from 
 which various rooms opened. Amongst these doors, 
 Everard selected that wlwch led to a very long, narrow, 
 and dilapidated gallery, built in the time of Henry VIII. 
 and running along the whole south-west side of the build- 
 ing, communicating at different points with the rest of the 
 mansion. This he thought was hkely to be the post
 
 AVOODSTOCK. 163 
 
 occupied by those who proposed to act the sprites upon 
 the occasion ; especially as its length and shape gave him 
 some idea that it was a spot where the bold thunder 
 might in many ways be imitated. 
 
 Determined to ascertain the truth if possible, he placed 
 his hght on a table in the vestibule, and applied himself to 
 open the door into the gallery. At this point he found 
 himself strongly opposed either by a bolt drawn, or, as 
 he rather conceived, by somebody from within resisting 
 his attempt. He was induced to believe the latter, be- 
 cause the resistance slackened and was renewed, like 
 that of human strength, instead of presenting the perma- 
 nent opposition of an inanimate obstacle. Though Eve- 
 rard was a strong and active young man, he exhausted 
 his strength in the vain attempt to open the door ; and 
 having paused to take breath, was about to renew his 
 efforts with foot and shoulder, and to call at the same 
 time for assistance, when to his surprise, on again at- 
 tempting the door more gently, in order to ascertain if 
 possible where the strength of the opposing obstacle was 
 situated, he found it give way to a very slight impulse, 
 some impediment fell broken to the ground, and the door 
 flew wide open. The gust of wind, occasioned by the 
 sudden opening of the door, blew out the candle, and 
 Everard was left in darkness, save where the moonshine, 
 which the long side-row of latticed windows dimmed, 
 could imperfectly force its way into the gallery, which 
 lay in ghostly length before him. 
 
 The melancholy and doubtful twilight was increased 
 by a quantity of creeping plants on the outside, which, 
 since all had been neglected in these ancient halls, now 
 completely overgrown, had in some instances greatly di- 
 minished, and in others almost quite choked up, the 
 space of the lattices, extending between the heavy stone 
 shaft-work which divided the windows, both lengthways 
 and across. On the other side there were no windows 
 at all, and tlie gallery had been once completely hung 
 with paintings, chiefly portraits, by which that side of 
 the apartment had been adorned. Most of the pictures
 
 164 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 had been removed, yet the empty frames of some, and 
 the tattered remnants of others, were still visible along 
 the extent of the waste gallery ; the look of which was 
 so desolate, and so well adapted besides for mischief, 
 supposing there were enemies near him, that Everard 
 could not help pausing at the entrance, and recommend* 
 ing himself to God, ere, drawing his sword, he advanced 
 into the apartment, treading as lightly as possible, and 
 keeping in the shadow as much as he could. 
 
 Markham Everard was by no means superstitious, but 
 he had the usual credulity of his times ; and though he 
 did not yield easily to tales of supernatural visitations, 
 yet he could not help thinking he was in the very situa- 
 tion, where, if such things were ever permitted, they 
 might be expected to take place, while his own stealthy 
 and ill-assured pace, his dravvn weapon, and extended 
 arms, being the very attitude and action of doubt and 
 suspicion, tended to increase in his mind the gloomy 
 feelings of which they are constantly associated. Under 
 such unpleasant impressions, and conscious of the neigh- 
 bourhood of something unfriendly. Colonel Everard had 
 already advanced about half along the gallery, when he 
 heard some one sigh very near him, and a lov/ soit voice 
 pronounced his name. 
 
 " Here I am," he replied, while his heart beat thick 
 and short. " Who calls on Markham Everard f * 
 
 Another sigh was the only answer*- 
 
 " Speak," said the Colonel, '' whoever or whatsoever 
 you are, and tell with what intent and purpose you are 
 lurking in these apartments f" 
 
 " With a better intent than yours," returned the soft 
 voice. 
 
 " Than mine !" answered Everard in great surprise. 
 "Who are you that dare judge of my intents r" 
 
 "What, or who are you, Markham Everard, who 
 wander by moonlight through these deserted halls of roy- 
 alty, where none should be but those who mourn their 
 downfall, or are sworn to avenge it .'*"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 165 
 
 " It is — and yet it cannot be," said Everard ; " yet it 
 is, and must be. Alice Lee, the devil or you speaks. 
 Answer me, I conjure you ! — speak openly — on what 
 dangerous scheme are you engaged ? where is your hith- 
 er ^ why are you here — wherelore do you run so clciidly 
 a venture ? — Speak, 1 conjure you, Ahce Lee !" 
 
 *' She, vvlioin you call, is at the distance of miles from 
 this spot. VViiat if her Genius speaks when she is ab- 
 sent .'* — what if the soul of an ancestress of hers and yours 
 were now addressing you ? — what if " 
 
 " Nay," answered Everard, " hut wliatif the dearest 
 of human beings has caught a touch of her father's enthu- 
 siasm ? what if she is exposing her person to danger, her 
 reputation to scandal, by traversing in disguise and in 
 darkness a house filled with armed men ? Speak to me, 
 my fair cousin, in your own person. 1 am furnished 
 with powers to protect my uncle, Sir Henry — to protect 
 you 100, dearest Alice, even against the consequences of 
 this visionary and wild attenjpt. Speak — I see where 
 you are, and with all my respect, I cannot submit to be 
 thus practised upon. Trust me — trust your cousin Mark- 
 ham with your hand, and believe that he will die or place 
 you in honourable safety." 
 
 As he spoke, he exercised his eyes as keenly as pos- 
 sible to detect where the speaker stood ; and it seemed 
 to hiu), that about three yards from him there was a 
 shadowy form, of which he could not discern even the 
 outline, placed as it was within the deep and prolonged 
 shadow thrown by a space of wall intervening betwixt 
 two windows, upon that side of the room from which the 
 light was admitted. He endeavoured to calculate as 
 well as he could, the distance betwixt himself and the 
 object which he watched, under the impression, that if, 
 by even using a slight degree of compulsion, he could 
 detach his beloved Alice from the confederacy into which 
 he supposed her father's zeal for the cause of royalty 
 had engaged her, he would be rendering them both the 
 most essential favour. He could not indeed but con- 
 clude, that however successfullv the plot which he con-
 
 166 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ceived to be in agitation had proceeded against the timid 
 Bletson, the stupid Desborough, and the crazy Harrison, 
 there was httle doubt that at length their artifices must 
 necessarily bring shame and danger on those engaged 
 in it. 
 
 It must also be remembered, that Everard's affection 
 to his cousin, although of the most respectful and devoted 
 character, partook less of the distant veneration which a 
 lover of those days entertained for the lady whom he 
 worshipped with humble diffidence, than of the fond and 
 familiar feelings which a brother entertains towards a 
 younger sister, whom he thinks himself entitled to guide, 
 advise, and even in some degree to control. So kindly 
 and intimate had been their intercourse, that he had little 
 more hesitation in endeavouring to arrest her progress in 
 the dangerous course in which she seemed to be engaged, 
 even at the risk of giving her momentary offence, than 
 he would have had in snatching her from a torrent or 
 conflagration, at the chance of hurting her by the violence 
 of his grasp. All this passed through his mind in the 
 course of a single minute ; and he resolved at all events 
 to detain her on the spot, and compel, if possible, an 
 explanation from her. 
 
 With this purpose, Everard again conjured his cousin 
 in the name of Heaven, to give up this idle and danger- 
 ous mummery ; and lending an accurate ear to her an- 
 swer, endeavoured from the sound to calculate as nearly 
 as possible the distance between them. 
 
 " I am not she for whom you take me," said the voice ; 
 " and dearer regards than aught connected with her life 
 or death, bid me warn you to keep aloof, and leave this 
 place." 
 
 " Not till 1 have convinced you of your childish folly," 
 said the Colonel, springing forward, and endeavouring to 
 catch hold of her who spoke to him. But no female 
 form was within his grasp. On the contrary, he was met 
 by a shock which could come from no woman's arm, 
 and which was rude enough to stretch him on his back 
 on the floor. At the same time he felt the point of a
 
 WOODSTOCK* 167 
 
 sword al his throat, and his hands so completely master- 
 ed, that not the slightest defence remained to him. 
 
 " A cry for assistance," said a voice near him, but not 
 that which he had hitherto heard, *' will be stifled in 
 your blood ! — No harm is meant you — be wise, and be 
 Bilent." 
 
 The fear of death, which Everard had often braved 
 in the field of battle, became more horrible as he felt 
 himself in the hands of unknown assassins, and totally 
 devoid of all means of defence. The sharp point of the 
 sword pricked his bare throat, and the foot of him who 
 held it was upon his breast. He felt it was to be a single 
 thrust, and an end there would be of life, and all the 
 feverish joys and sorrows which agitate us so strangely, 
 and from which we are yet so reluctant to part. Large 
 drops of perspiration stood upon his forehead — his heart 
 throbbed as if it would burst from its confinement in the 
 oosom — he experienced the agony which fear imposes 
 Dn the brave man, acute in proportion to that which pain 
 inflicts when it subdues the robust and healthy. 
 
 *' Cousin Alice," — he attempted to speak, and the 
 sword's point pressed his throat yet more closely — 
 " Cousin, let me not be murdered in a manner so 
 fearful !" 
 
 " I tell you," replied the voice, " that you speak to 
 one who is not here ; but your life is not aimed at, pro- 
 viding you swear on your faith as a Christian, and your 
 honor as a gentleman, that you will conceal what has hap- 
 pened, whether from the people below, or from any 
 other person. On this condition you may rise ; and if 
 you seek her, you will find Alice Lee at Joceline's cot- 
 tage, in the forest." 
 
 " Since I may not help myself otherwise," said Eve- 
 rard, " I swear, as I have a sense of religion and honour, 
 I will say nothing of this violence, nor make any search 
 after those who are concerned in it." 
 
 "For that we care nothing," said the voice. "Thou 
 hast an example how well thou may'st catch mischief on
 
 168 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 thy own part ; but we are in case to defy thee. Rise, 
 and begone !" 
 
 Tjie loot, the sword's-point, were withdrawn, and 
 Everard was about to stiirt up hastily, when the voice, 
 in the same softness of tone which distinguished it at 
 first, said, *' No haste — ;Cold and bare steel is yet around 
 thee. Now — now — now — (the words dying away at a 
 distance) — thou art free. Be secret and be safe." 
 
 Markhain Everard arose, and, in rising, embarrassed 
 his feet with liis own sword, which he had dropped when 
 springing forward, as he supposed, to lay hold of his fair 
 cousin. He snatched it up in haste, and as his hand 
 clasped the hilt, his courage, which had given way under 
 the apprehension of instant death, began to return ; he 
 considered, with almost his usual composure, what was 
 to be done next. Deeply affronted at the disgrace which 
 he had sustained, he questioned for an instant whether he 
 ought to keep his extorted promise, or should not rather 
 summon assistance, and make haste to discover and seize 
 those who had been recently engaged in such violence 
 on his person. But these persons, be they who they 
 would, had had his life in their power — he hid pledged 
 his word in ransom of it — and what was more, he could 
 not divest hiinself of the idea that his beloved Alice was 
 a confidante at least, if not an actor, in the coni*ederacy 
 which had thus bafHed him. This prepossession deter- 
 mined his conduct; for, thou2;h angry at supposing she 
 must have been accessary to his personal ill-treatment, he 
 could not in any event think of an instant search through 
 the mansion, which might have committed her safety, or 
 th It of his uncle. " But I will to the hut," he said — 
 ** I will instantly to the hut, ascertain her share in this 
 wild and dangerous confederacy, and snatch her from 
 ruin, if it be possible." 
 
 As, under the influence of the resolution which he had 
 formed, Everard groped his way through the gallery, and 
 reijjained the vestibule, he heard his name called by the 
 well-known voice of VVildrake. *' What — ho ! — hollo ! 
 — Colonel Everard — Mark Everard — it is dark as the
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 169 
 
 devil's mouth — speak — where are you ? — Tl)e witches 
 are keeping tlieir tielJisii sabbaih here, as 1 think. — W liere 
 are you r" 
 
 " Here, here !" answered Everard. " Cease your 
 bawhng. Tuin to tiie leit, and you will meet me." 
 
 Guided by iiis voice, Wildrake soon a})pfc;arfcd, with a 
 light in one hand, and his drawn sword in the other. 
 " Where have you been ?" he said — " what has detained 
 you f — Here are Bletson and the brute Desboiough, 
 ternfjed out of their lives, and Harrison raving mad, 
 because the devil will not be civil enough to rise to fi2;ht 
 him." 
 
 "Saw or heard you nothing as you came along .^" said 
 Everaid. '* Noihing," said his Iriend, " excepting that 
 when 1 first entered this cursed ruinous labyrinth, the 
 liglit was stiuck out of my hand, as if by a switc h, which, 
 obliged me to return lor another." 
 
 " I must cotne by a horse instantly, AVildrake, and 
 another for thyself, if it be possible." 
 
 *' We can take two of those belonging to the troopers," 
 answered Wildiake. " But for what purpose should we 
 run away, like rats, at this time in the evening C — Is the 
 house falling ?" 
 
 " I cannot answer you," said the Colonel, pushing 
 forward into a room where there were some reujains of 
 furniture. 
 
 Here the cavalier took a more strict view of his per- 
 son, and exclaimed in wonder, " What the devil have 
 you l)een fighting with, Markham, that has bedizened you 
 after this sorry fashion .^" 
 
 " Fighting !" exclaimed Everard. 
 
 " Yes," replied his trusty attendant, " 1 say fighting. 
 Look at youiself in the mirror." 
 
 He did, and saw he was covered with dust and blood. 
 The latter proceeded from a scratch which he had re- 
 ceived in the throat, as he struggled to extricate himself. 
 With unaffected alarm, W^ildrake undid his friend's col- 
 lar, and with eager haste proceeded to examine the 
 
 15 VOL. 1.
 
 170 
 
 WOOn STOCK. 
 
 wound, his hands trennbhng, and his eyes glistening with 
 appreliension for his heiielactor's life. VV^hen, in spite of 
 Everard's opposition, he had examined the hurt and found 
 it so trifling, he resumed the natural vvildness of his char- 
 acter, perhaps the more readily that he iiad felt shame 
 in departing from it, into one wijich expressed more 
 feeling than he would be thought to possess. 
 
 " ll that be the devil's work, Mark," said he, *' the foul 
 fiend's claws are not nigh so formidable as they are re- 
 presented ; but no one shall say that your blood has been 
 shed unrevenged, while Roger Wildrake was by your 
 side. Where left you this same inip f I will back to the 
 field of fight, confront hiiD with my rapier, and were his 
 nails tenpenny aails, and his teeth as long as those of a 
 harrow, he shall render me reason for the injury he has 
 done you." 
 
 " Madness — madness !" exclaimed Everard ; " I had 
 this trifling hurt by a fall — a basin and towel will wipe 
 it away. Meanwhile, if you will ever do me kindness, 
 get the troop-horses — command them for the service of 
 the public, in the name of his Excellency the General. 
 I will but wash, and join you in an instant before the 
 gate." 
 
 " Well, I will serve you, Everard, as a mute serves the 
 Grand Signior, without knowing why or wherefore. But 
 will you go without seeing these people below ?" 
 
 " Without seeing any one," said Everard ; "lose no 
 time, for God's sake." 
 
 He found out the non-commissioned officer, and de- 
 manded the horses in a tone of authority, to which the 
 corporal yielded undisputed obedience, as one well 
 aware of Colonel Everard's military rank and conse- 
 quence. So all was in a minute or two ready for the 
 expedition.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " She kneel'd, and saint-like 
 
 171 
 
 Cast her eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly." 
 ' King Ht-nrij VIII. 
 
 CoLONKL Everard's departure at the late hour, for so 
 it was tlien thought ol" seven in the evening, excited much 
 specnlation. I'here was a gathering of menials and de- 
 pendants in the outer chamher, or liall, for no one doubt- 
 ed that his sudden departure was owing to his having, as 
 they expressed it, " seen something," and all desired to 
 know how a man of such acknowledged courage as Eve- 
 rard, looked under the awe of a recent apparition. But 
 he gave them no time to make comments ; ior, striding 
 through the hall wrapt in his riding-suit, he threw him- 
 self on horseback, and rode furiously through the Chase, 
 towards the hut of the keeper Jo'ifie. 
 
 It was the disposition of Markhimi Everard to be hot, 
 keen, earnest, impatient, and decisive to a degree of 
 precipitation. The acquired habits \\hich education had 
 taught, and which the strong moral and religious disci- 
 pline of his sect had greatly strengthened, were such as 
 to enable him to conceal, as well as to check, this consti- 
 tutional violence, and to place him upon his guard against 
 indulging it. " But when in the high tide of violent exci- 
 tation, the natural impetuosity of the young soldier's tem- 
 per was sometimes apt to overcome these artificial ob- 
 stacles, and then, like a torrent foaming over a weir, h 
 became more furious, as if in revenge for the constrained 
 calm which it had been for some time obliged to assume. 
 In these instances he was accustomed to see only that 
 point to which his thoughts were bent, and to move 
 straight towards it, whether a moral object, or the storm- 
 ing of a breach, without either calculating, or even 
 seeming to see, the difficulties which were before him.
 
 172 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 At present, his ruling and impelling motive was to de- 
 tach his beloved cousin, if possible, IVom the dangerous 
 and discreditable machinations in which he suspected her 
 to have engaged, or, on the other hand, to discover that 
 she really had no concern with these stratagems. He 
 should know how to judge of that in some measure, he 
 thought, by finding her present or absent at the hut, to- 
 wards which he was now galloping. He had read, in- 
 deed, in some ballad or minstrel's tale, of a singular 
 deception practised on a jealous old man, by means of a 
 subterranean communication between his house and that 
 of a neighbour, which the lady in question made use of 
 to present herself in the two places alternately, with such 
 speed, and so much address, that, after repeated exper- 
 iments, the dotard was deceived into the opinion, that his 
 wife, and the lady who was so very like her, and to whom 
 his neighbour paid so much attention, were two different 
 persons. But in the present case there was no room for 
 such a deception ; the distance was too great, and as he 
 took by much the nearest way from the castle, and rode 
 full speed, it would be impossible he knew, for his cousin, 
 who was a timorous horse-woman even by day-light, to 
 have got home before him. 
 
 Her father might indeed be displeased at his interfer- 
 ence ; but what title had he to be so ? — Was not Alice 
 Lee the near relation of his blood, the dearest object of 
 his heart, and would he now abstain from an effort to save 
 her from the consequences of a silly and wild conspiracy, 
 because the old knight's spleen might be awakened by 
 Everard's making his appearance at their present dwel- 
 ling contrary to his commands f No. He would endure 
 the old man's harsh language, as he endured the blast of 
 the autumn wind, which was howling around him, and 
 swinging the crashing branches o.f the trees under which 
 he passed, but could not oppose, or even retard his 
 journey. 
 
 If he found not Alice, as he had reason to believe she 
 would be absent, to Sir Henry Lee himself he would ex- 
 plain what he had witnessed. However she might have<
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 178 
 
 become accessary to the juggling tricks performed at 
 Woodstock, he could not but think it was vvhhout her 
 father's knowledge, so severe a judge was the old knight 
 of female propriety, and so strict an assertor of female 
 decorum. He would take the same opportunity, he 
 thought, of stating to him the well-grounded hopes he 
 entertained, that his dwelling at the Lodge might be 
 prolonged, and the sequestrators removed from the royal 
 mansion and domains, by other means than those of the 
 absurd species of intimidation which seemed to be resort- 
 ed to, to scare them from thence. 
 
 All this seemed to be so much within the line of his 
 duty as a relative, that it was not until he halted at the 
 door of the Ranger's hut, and threw his bridle into Wild- 
 rake's hand, that Everard recollected the fiery, high, and 
 unbending character of Sir Henry Lee, and felt, even 
 when his fingers were on the latch, a reluctance to intrude 
 himself upon the presence of the irritable old knight. 
 
 But there was no time for hesitation. Bevis, who had 
 already hayed more than once from within the Lodge, 
 was growing impatient, and Everard had but just time to 
 bid Wildrake hold the liorses until he should send Joce- 
 line to his assistance, when old Joan unpinned the door, 
 to demand who was witliout at that time of the night. 
 To have attempted anything like an explanation with 
 poor dame Joan, would have been quite hopeless ; the 
 Colonel, therefore, put her gently aside, and shaking 
 himself loose from the hold she had laid on his cloak, 
 entered the kitchen of Joceline's dwelling. Bevis, who 
 had advanced to support Joan in her opposition, hum- 
 bled his lion-port, with that wonderful instinct which 
 makes his race remember so long those witli whom they 
 have been familiar, and acknowjtdged his master's rela- 
 tive, by doing homage in his fashion, with his head and 
 tail. 
 
 Colonel Everard, more uncertain in liis purpose every 
 moment as the necessity of its execution drew nigh, stole 
 over the floor like one who treads in a sick chamber, 
 
 15* VOL. I.
 
 174 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and opening the door of the interior apartment with a 
 slow and trembling hand, as he would have withdrawn 
 the curtains of a dying friend, he saw within the scene 
 which w;, are about to describe. 
 
 Sir Henry Lee sat in a wicker arm-chair by the fire. 
 He was wrapped in a cloak, and his limbs extended on a 
 stool, as if he were suffering from gout or indisposition. 
 His long white beard flowing over the dark-coloured gar- 
 ment, gave him more the appearance of a hermit than 
 of an aged soldier or man of quality ; and that character 
 was increased by the deep and devout attention with 
 which he listened to a respectable old man, whose dilap- 
 idated dress showed still something of the clerical habit, 
 and who, with a low, but full and deep voice, was reading 
 the Evening Service according to the Church of England. 
 Alice Lee kneeled at the feet of her father, and made 
 the responses with a voice that might have suited the 
 choir of angels ; and a modest and serious devotion which 
 suited the melody of her tone. The face of the offi- 
 ciating clergyman would have been good-looking, had 
 it not been disfigured with a black patch which covered 
 the left eye and a part of his face, and had not the fea- 
 tures which were visible been marked with the traces of 
 care and suffering. 
 
 When Colonel Everard entered, the clergyman raised 
 his finger, as cautioning him to forbear disturbing the 
 divine service of the evening, and pointed to a seat ; to 
 which, struck deeply with the scene he had witnessed, 
 the intruder stole with as light a step as possible, and 
 knelt devoutly down as one of the little congregation. 
 
 Everard had been bred by his father what was called 
 a Puritan ; a member of a sect, who, in the primitive 
 sense of the word, were persons that did not except 
 against the doctrines of the Church of England, or even 
 in other respects against its hierarchy, but chiefly dissent- 
 ed fi'om it on the subject of certain ceremonies, habits, 
 and forms of ritual, which were insisted upon by the cele- 
 brated and unforttmate Laud, with ill-timed tenacity. 
 But even if, from the habits of his father's house, Ever-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 175 
 
 ard's opinions had been diametrically opposed to the 
 doctrines of the English Church, he must have been 
 reconciled to them by the regularity with which the ser- 
 vice was performed in his uncle's family at Woodstock, 
 who, during tlie blossom of his fortunes, generally had a 
 chaplain residing in the Lodge for that special purpose. 
 
 Yet deep as was the habitual venetation with which he 
 heard the impressive service of the Church, Everard's 
 eyes could not help straying towards Alice, and his 
 thoughts wandering to the purpose of his presence there. 
 She seemed to have recognized him at once, for there 
 was a deeper glow than usual upon her check, her fin- 
 gers tremijied as they turned the leaves of her prayer 
 book, and her voice, lately as firm as it was melodious, 
 faltered when she repeated the reponses. It appeared 
 to Everard, as far as he could collect by the stolen glances 
 which he directed towards her, that the character of her 
 beauty, as well as of her outward appearance, had chang- 
 ed with her fortunes. 
 
 The beautiful and high-born young lady had now ap- 
 proached as nearly as possible to the brown stuff dress 
 of an ordinary village maiden ; but what she had lost in 
 gaiety of appearance, she had gained as it seemed in 
 dignity. Her beautiful light-brown tresses, now folded 
 around her head, and only curled where nature had so 
 arranged them, gave her an air of simplicity, which did 
 not exist when her head-dress showed the skill of a cu- 
 rious tirewoman. A light joyous air, with something of 
 a hujnorous expression which seemed to be looking tor 
 amusement, had vanished before the touch of affliction, 
 and a calm melancholy supplied its place, which seemed 
 on the watch to administer comfort to others. Perhaps 
 the former arch, though innocent expression of counte- 
 nance, wns uppermost in her lover's recollection, when 
 he concluded that Alice had acted a part in the disturb- 
 ances which had take place at the Lodge. It is certain, 
 that when he now looked upon her, it was with shame 
 for having nourisiied such a suspicion, and the resolu- 
 tion to believe rather that the devil had innlated her
 
 1*7^ WOODSTOCK. 
 
 voice, than that the creature, who seemed so much above 
 the feelings of this world, and so nearly allied to the pu- 
 rity of the next, should have had the indelicacy to mingle 
 in such manoeuvres as he himself and others had been 
 subjected to. 
 
 These thoughts shot through his mind, in spite of the 
 impropriety of indulging them at such a moment. Tho 
 service now approached the close ; and a good deal to 
 Colonel Everard's surprise as well as confusion, the offi- 
 ciating priest, in firm and audible tone, and with every 
 attribute of dignity, prayed to the Almighty to bless and 
 preserve " Our Sovereign Lord, King Charles, the law- 
 ful and undoubted King of these realms." The petition 
 (in those days most dangerous) was pronounced with a 
 full, raised, and distinct articulation, as if the priest chal- 
 lenged all Vvho heard him to dissent if they dared. If 
 the republican oiBcer did not assent to the petition, be 
 thought at least it was no time to protest against it. 
 
 The service was concluded in the usual manner, and 
 the little congregation arose. It now included Wildrake, 
 vvho had entered daring the latter prayer, and was the 
 first of the party to speak, running up to the priest, and 
 shaking him by the hand most heartily, swearing at the 
 same time, that he truly rejoiced to see liim. The good 
 clergyman returned the pressure with a smile, observing 
 he should have believed his asseveration without an oath. 
 in the meanwhile. Colonel Everard approached his un- 
 cle's seat, made a deep inclination of respect, first to Sir 
 Henry Lee, and then to Alice, whose colour now spread 
 from her cheek to her brow and bosom. 
 
 " I have to crave your excuse," said the Colonel with 
 hesitation, " for having chosen for my visit, which I dare 
 not hope would be very agreeable at any lime, a season 
 most particularly unsuitable." 
 
 " So far from it, nephew," answered Sir Henry, with 
 much more mildness of manner *'~an Everard had dared 
 to expect, " that your visits at other times would be 
 much more welcome, had we the fortune to see you often 
 at our hours of worship."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 177 
 
 " I hope the time will soon come, sir, when English- 
 men ol' all sects and denominations," replitd Everard, 
 " will be liee in conscience to worship in common the 
 great Father, whom they all after their manner call by 
 that atfeclionale name." 
 
 "1 hope so too, nephew," said the old man, in the 
 same unaltered tone ; " and we will not at present dis- 
 pute, whether you would have the Church of England 
 coalesce with the Conventicle, or the Conventicle con- 
 form to the Church. It was, I ween, not to settle jar- 
 ring creeds, that you have honoured our poor dwelling, 
 where to say the truth, we dared scaice have expected 
 to see you again, so coarse was our last welcome." 
 
 " 1 should be happy to believe," said Colonel Everard, 
 hesitating, " that — that — in short my presence was not 
 now so unwelcome here as on that occasion." 
 
 *' Nephew," said -Sir Henry, " 1 will be frank with 
 you. When you were last here, I thought you had stolen 
 from me a precious pearl, which at one lime it would 
 have been my pride and happiness to have bestowed on 
 you ; but which, being such as you have been of late, I 
 would bury in the depths of the earth rather than give 
 to your keeping. This somewhat chafed, as honest VVill 
 says, ' the rash humour which my mother gave me.' I 
 thought 1 was robbed, and I thought I saw the robber 
 before me. 1 am mistaken — I am not robbed ; and the 
 attempt without the deed 1 can pardon." 
 
 " 1 would not willingly seek ofTence in your words, sir," 
 said Colonel Everard, " when their general purport 
 sounds kind ; but 1 can protest before Heaven, that my 
 views and wishes towards you and your family are as 
 void of selfish hopes and selfish ends, as they are fraught 
 with love to you and to yours." 
 
 *' Let us hear them, man ; we are not much accus- 
 tomed to good wishes now-a-days : and their very rarity 
 will make them welcome." 
 
 ** I would willingly. Sir Henry, since you might not 
 choose me to give you a more affectionate name, convert 
 those wishes into something effectual for your comfort.
 
 178 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Tour fate, as the world now stands, is bad, and, 1 fear, 
 like to be worse." 
 
 " Worse than I expect, it cannot be. Nephew, I do 
 not shrink before my change of fortunes. 1 sliall wear 
 coarser clothes, — 1 sliall feed on more ordinary food, — 
 men will not doff their cap to me as they were wont, 
 when I was the great and the wealthy. VVhat of that ? 
 Old Harry Lee loved his honour better than his title, 
 his faith better than his land and lordship. Havel not 
 seen the 30th of January ? 1 am neither Philomath nor 
 astrologer ; but old Will teaches me, that when green 
 leaves fall winter is at hand, and that darkness will come 
 when the sun sets." 
 
 "Bethink you, sir," said Colonel Everard, "if, with- 
 out any submission asked, any oalh taken, any engage- 
 ment imposed, express or tacit, excepting that you are 
 not to excite disturbances in the public peace, you can 
 be restored to your residence in the Lodge, and your 
 usual fortunes and perquisites there — 1 have great rea- 
 son to hope this may be permitted, if not expressly, at 
 least on sufferance." 
 
 " Yes, I understand you. I am to be treated like the 
 royal coin, marked with the ensign of the Rump to make 
 it pass current, although J am too old to have the royal 
 insignia grinded off from me ? Kinsman, 1 will have none 
 of this. I h ive lived at the Lodge too long ; and let me 
 tell you, I had left it in scorn long since, but for the 
 orders of one whom I mny yet live to do service to. I 
 will take nothing from the usurpers, be their name Rump 
 or Cromwell — be they one devil or legion — 1 will not 
 take from them an old cap to cover my grey hairs — a 
 cast cloak to protect my frail limbs from the cold. 
 They shall not say they have by their unwilling bounty, 
 made Abraham rich — ] will live, as 1 will die, the Loyal 
 Lee. 
 
 " May I hope you will think of it, sir ; and that you 
 will, perhaps, considering what slight submission is ask- 
 ed, give me a belter answer .'*"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 179 
 
 " Sir, if I retract my opinion, which is not my wont, 
 you shall hear of it. — And now, cousin, have you more 
 to say f We keep that worthy clergyman in the outer 
 room." 
 
 " Something T had to say — something touching my 
 cousin Alice," said Everard, with embarrassment; " but 
 I fear that the prejudices of both are so strong against 
 me " 
 
 " Sir, I dare turn my daughter loose to you — I will go 
 join the good doctor in dame Joan's apartment. I am 
 not unwilling that you should know that the girl hath, in 
 all reasonable sort, the exercise of her free will." 
 
 He withdrew, and left the cousins together. 
 
 Colotiel Everard advanced to Alice, and w^as about to 
 take her hand. She drew back, took the seat which her 
 fatlier had occupied, and pointed out to him one at some 
 distance. 
 
 " Are we then so much estranged^ my dearest Alice .^" 
 he said. 
 
 " We will speak of that presently," she replied. *' In 
 the first place let me ask the cause of your visit here at 
 so late an hour." 
 
 " You lieard," said Everard, " what I staled to your 
 father ?" 
 
 " I did ; but that seems to have been only part of 
 your errand — something there seemed to be which ap- 
 phed particularly to me." 
 
 " It was a fancy — a strange mistake," answered Eve- 
 rard. " INJay I ask if you have been abroad this evening.^" 
 
 " Certainly not," she replied. " 1 have small temp- 
 tation to wander from my present home, poor as it is ; 
 and whilst here, 1 have important duties to discharge 
 But why does Colonel Everard ask so strange a ques- 
 tion ?" 
 
 "Tell me in turn, why your cousin Markham has lost 
 the name of friendship and kindred, and even of some 
 nearer feeling, and then I will answer you, Alice. 
 
 *' It is soon ^answered," she said. "When you drew 
 your sword against my father's cause — almost against bis
 
 180 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 person — I stiulied, more than I should have done, lo find 
 excuse for you. i knew, that is, I thought I knew, your 
 high feelings of public duty — I knew the opinions in 
 which you have been bred up ;^ and 1 said, I will not, 
 even for this, cast hiin off — he opposes his King because 
 he is loyal to liis country. You endeavouied to avert the 
 great and concluding tragedy of the 30th of January ; 
 and it confirmed u)e in my opinion, that Markham Ever- 
 ard inight be misled ; but could not be base or selfisb.'* 
 
 " And what has changed your opinion, Alice ? or who 
 dare," said Everard, reddening, " attach such epithets 
 to the name of Markham Everard ?" 
 , " I am no suliject," she said, " for exercising your 
 valour, Colonel Everard, nor do I mean to offend. But 
 you will find enough of others who will avow, that Colo- 
 nel Everard is truckling to the usurper Cromwell, and 
 that all his fair pretexts of forwarding his country's lib- 
 erties, are but a screen for driving a bargain with a suc- 
 cessful encroacher, and obtaining the best terms he can 
 for himself and his family." 
 
 " For myself— Never !" 
 
 " But for your family you have — Yes, T am well as- 
 sured that you have pointed out to the military tyrant, the 
 way in which he and his satraps may master the govern- 
 ment. Do you think my father or I would accept an 
 asylum purchased at the price of England's liberty and 
 your honour ?" 
 
 *' Gracious Heaven, Alice, what is this ? you accuse 
 me of pursuing the very course which so lately had your 
 approbation !" 
 
 *' When you spoke with authority of your father, and 
 recommended our submission to the existing government, 
 such as it was, I own I thought — that my father's grey 
 head might, without dishonour, have remainerl under the 
 roof where it had so long been sheltered. But did your 
 father sanction your becoming the adviser of yonder am- 
 bitious soldier to a new course of innovation, and his 
 abettor in the establishment of a new species of tyranny.^ 
 — It is one thing to submit to oupression, another to be
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 181 
 
 the assent of tyrants — And O, Markham — their blood* 
 hoLind^!" 
 
 " How ! blood-hound ? — what mean you ? — I own it 
 is true I could see with content the wounds of this bleeding 
 country stanched, even at the expense of beholding Crom- 
 well, after his matchless rise, take a yet farther step to 
 power — but to be his blood-hound ! What is your mean- 
 ing !" 
 
 " It is false, then ? — I thought I could swear it had been 
 false." 
 
 " What, in the name of God, is it you ask ?" 
 
 " It is false that you are engaged to betray the young 
 King of Scotland f" 
 
 " Betray him ! /betray him, or any fugitive ? Never ! 
 I would he were well out of En2;land — I would lend him 
 my aid to escape, were he in the house at this instant ; 
 and think I did his enemies good service, by preventing 
 their soiling themselves with his blood — but betray him, 
 never !" 
 
 " I knew it — I was sure it was impossible. Oh, be 
 yet more honest ; disengage yourself from yonder gloomy 
 and ambitious soldier ! Shun him and his schemes, which 
 are formed in injustice, and can only be realized in yet 
 more blood." 
 
 *' Believe me," replied Everard, " that I choose the 
 line of policy best be6tting the times." 
 
 " Choose that," she said, " which best befits duty, 
 Markham — which best befits truth and honour. Do your 
 duty, and let Providence decide the rest. — Farewell ! 
 we tempt my father's pnlience too far — you know his 
 temper — farewell, Markham." 
 
 She extended her hand, which he pressed to his lips, 
 and left the apartment. A silent how to his uncle, and a 
 sign to Wildrake, whom he found in the kitchen of the 
 cabin, were the only tokens of recognition exhibited, and 
 leaving the hut, he was soon mounted, and, with his com- 
 panion, advanced on his return to the Lodge. 
 
 16 VOL. I.
 
 182 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 -Deeds are done on earth, 
 
 Which have their punishment ere the earth closes 
 
 Upon the perpetrators. Be it the working 
 
 Of the remorse-stirr'd fancy, or the vision, 
 
 Distinct and real, of unearthly being, 
 
 All ages wiUiess, that beside the couch 
 
 Of the fell homicide oft stalks the ghost 
 
 Of him he slew, and shows the shadowy wound. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 EvERARD had come to Joceline's Lodge as fast as horse 
 could bear him, and with the same impetuosity of purpose 
 as of speed. He saw no choice in the course to be pur- 
 sued, and felt in his own imagination the strongest right 
 to direct, and even reprove, his cousin, beloved as she 
 was, on account of the dangerous machinations with which 
 she appeared to have connected herself. He returned 
 slowly, and in a very different mood. 
 
 Not only had Alice, prudent as beautiful, appeared 
 completely free from the weakness of conduct which 
 seemed to give him some authority over her, but her 
 views of policy, if less practicable, were so much more 
 direct and noble than his own, as led him to question 
 whether he had not compromised himself too rashly with 
 Cromwell, even although the state of the country was so 
 greatly divided and torn by faction, that the promotion of 
 the General to the possession of the executive govern- 
 ment seemed the only chance of escaping a renewal of 
 the Civil War. The more exalted and purer sentiments 
 of Alice lowered him in his own eyes ; and though un- 
 shaken in his opinion, that it were better the vessel 
 should be steered by a pilot having no good title to the 
 office, than that she should run upon the breakers, he 
 felt that he was not espousing the most direct, manly, 
 and disinterested side of the question.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 3 83 
 
 As he rode on, immersed in these unpleasant contem- 
 plations, and consid#rably lessened in his own esteem by 
 what had happened, Wildrake, who rode by his side, and 
 was no friend to long silence, began to enter into conver- 
 sation. " I have been thinking, Mark," said he, " that 
 if you and 1 had been called to the bar — as, by the by, 
 has been in danger of happening to me in more senses 
 than one — I say, had we become barristers, 1 would have 
 had the better oiled tongue of the two — the fairer art of 
 persuasion." 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Everard, "though 1 never heard 
 thee use any, save to induce an usurer to lend thee mon- 
 ey, or a taverner to abate a reckoning." 
 
 " And yet this day, or rather night, I could have, as I 
 think, made a conquest which baffled you." 
 
 " Indeed .'*" said the Colonel, becoming attentive. 
 
 " Why, look you," said Wildrake, " it was a main ob- 
 ject with you to induce Mistress Alice Lee — By Heaven, 
 she is an exquisite creature — 1 approve of your taste, 
 Mark — I say, you desired to persuade her, and the stout 
 old Trojan her father, to consent and return to the Lodge, 
 and live there quietly, and under connivance, like gen- 
 tlefolk, instead of lodging in a hut hardly fit to harbour 
 a Tom of Bedlam." 
 
 " Thou art right ; such, indeed, was a great part of my 
 object in this visit," answered Everard. 
 
 " But, perhaps, you also expected to visit there your- 
 self, and so keep a watch over pretty Mistress Lee — eh ?" 
 
 " I never entertained so selfish a thought," said Eve- 
 rard ; " and if this nocturnal disturbance at the mansion 
 were explained and ended, T would instantly take my 
 departure." 
 
 " Your friend Noll would expect something more from 
 you," said Wildrake — " he would expect, in case the 
 Knight's reputation for loyalty should draw any of our 
 poor exiles and wanderers about the Lodge, that you 
 should be on the watch, and ready to snap them. In a 
 word — as far as I can understand his long-winded speech- 
 es — he would have Woodstock a trap, your uncle and his
 
 184 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 pretty daughter the bait of toasted cheese — craving your 
 Chloe's pardon for the comparison-*-you the spring-fall 
 which should bar their escape — his Lordship himself 
 beiug the great grimalkin to whom they are to be given 
 over to be devoured." 
 
 " Dared Cromwell mention this to thee in express 
 terms ?" said Everard, pulling up his horse, and stopping 
 in the midst of the road. 
 
 " Nciy, not in express terms, which I do not believe 
 he ever used in his life — you might as well expect a 
 drunken man to go straight forward ; but he insinuated as 
 much to me, and indicated that you might deserve well 
 of him — ^^Gatzo — the damnable proposal sticks in my 
 throat — by betraying our noble and rightful Kin^, (here 
 he pulled off his hat,) whom God grant in health and 
 wealth long to reign, as the worthy clergyman says, 
 though I fear just now his Majesty is both sick and sorry, 
 and never a penny in his pouch to boot." 
 
 " This tallies with what Alice hinted," said Everard ; 
 " but how could she know it ^ didst thou give her any 
 hint of such a thing ?" 
 
 " I ?" replied the cavalier, " I, who never saw Mistress 
 Alice in my life till to-night, and then only for an instant 
 — zooks, man, how is that possible .^" 
 
 " True," replied Everard, and seemed lost in thought. 
 At length he spoke — " I should call Cromwell to account 
 tor his bad opinion of me ; for even though not serious- 
 ly expressed, but, as I am convinced it was, with the sole 
 view of proving you, and perhaps myself, it was, never- 
 theless, a misconstruction to be resented." 
 
 " I'll carry a cartel for you, with all my heart and soul," 
 said Wildrake ; " and turn out with his godliness's se- 
 cond, with as good will as I ever drank a glass of sack." 
 
 " Pshaw," replied Everard, " those in his high place 
 fight no singular combats.— But tell me, Roger Wildrake, 
 didst thou thyself think me capable of the falsehood and 
 treachery implied in such a message ?" 
 
 " 1 ?" exclaimed Wildrake. — " Markham Everard, 
 you have been my early friend, my constant benefactor.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 185 
 
 When Colchester was reduced, you saved me from the 
 gallows, and since that thou hast twenty times saved me 
 from starving. B|^t, by Heaven, if 1 thought you capa- 
 ble of such villany as your General recommended, — by 
 yonder blue sky, and all the works of creation which it 
 bends over, I would stab you with my own hand !" 
 
 " Death," replied Everard, " I should indeed de- 
 serve, but not from you perhaps ; — but fortunately, I 
 cannot, if I would, be guilty of the treachery you would 
 punish. Know that I had this day secret notice, and from 
 Cromwell himself, that the young man has escaped by sea 
 from Bristol." 
 
 " Now^ God Almighty be blessed, who protected him 
 through so many dangers ;" exclaimed Wildrake. — 
 " Huzza ! — Up hearts, cavaliers! — Hey for cavaliers ! — 
 God bless King Charles !— Moon and stars, catch my 
 hat !" — and he threw it up as high as he could in the air. 
 The celestial bodies which he invoked did not receive the 
 present despatched to them ; but, as in the case of Sir 
 Henry Lee's scabbard, an old gnarled oak became a se- 
 cond time the receptacle of a waif and stray of loyal en- 
 thusiasm. Wildrake looked rather foolish at the circum- 
 stance, and his friend took the opportunity of admonishing 
 him. 
 
 " Art thou not ashamed to bear thee so hke a school- 
 boy r 
 
 " Why," said Wildrake, " I have but sent a Puri- 
 tan's hat upon a loyal errand. 1 laugh to think how 
 many of the school-boys thou talk'st of will be cheated 
 into climbing the pollard next year, expecting to find 
 the nest of some unknown bird in yonder unmeasured 
 margin of felt." 
 
 " Hush now, for God's sake, and let us speak calm- 
 ly," said Everard. " Charles has escaped, and I am glad 
 of it. I would willingly have seen him on his father's 
 throne by composition, but not by the force of the Scot- 
 tish army, and the incensed and vengeful royalists " 
 
 16'^ VOL I.
 
 186 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Master Markham Everard," began the cavalier, in- 
 terrupting him 
 
 " Nay, hush, dear Wildrake," said Everard ; " let us 
 not dispute a point on which we cannot agree, and give 
 me leave to go on. — I say, since the young man has es- 
 caped, Cromwell's offensive and injurious stipulation falls 
 to the ground ; and I see not why my uncle and his fam- 
 ily should not again enter their own house, under the 
 same terms of connivance as many other royalists. What 
 may be incumbent on me is different, nor can 1 determine 
 my course until I have an interview with the General, 
 which, as I think, will end in his confessing that he threw 
 in this offensive proposal to sound us both. It is much 
 in his manner ; for he is blunt, and never sees or feels 
 the punctilious honour which the gallants of the day 
 stretch to such delicacy." 
 
 " I'll acquit him for having any punctilio about him," 
 said Wildrake, " either touching honour or honesty. — 
 Now to comeback to where we started. — Supposing you 
 were not to reside in person at the Lodge, and to forbear 
 even visiting there unless on invitation, when such a thing 
 can be brought about, I tell you frankly, I think your un- 
 cle and his daughter might be induced to come back to 
 the Lodge, and reside there as usual. At least the 
 clergyman, that worthy old cock, gave me to hope as 
 much." 
 
 " He had been hasty in bestowing his confidence," said 
 Everard. 
 
 " True," replied Wildrake ; " he confided in me at 
 once ; for he instantly saw my regard for the church. I 
 thank Heaven that I never passed a clergyman in canoni- 
 cals without pulling my hat off — (and thou knowest, the 
 most desperate duel 1 ever fought was with young Gray- 
 less of the Inner Temple, for taking the wall of the Rev- 
 erend Dr. Bunce.) — Ah, 1 can gain a chaplain's ear 
 instantly. Gadzooks. they know whom they have to trust 
 to in such a one as L" 
 
 " Dost thou think then," said Colonel Everard, " or 
 rather does this clergyman think, that if they were secure
 
 , WOODSTOCK. 187 
 
 of intrusion from me, the family would return to the 
 Lodge, supposing the intruding Commissioners gone, and 
 this nocturnal disturbance explained and ended ?" 
 
 " The old Knight," answered Wildrake, " may be 
 wrought upon by the Doctor to return, if he is secure 
 against intrusion. As for disturbances, the stout old boy, 
 so far as I can learn in two minutes' conversation, laughs 
 at all this turmoil as the work of mere imagination, the 
 consequence of the remorse of their own evil confiden- 
 ces ; and says that goblin or devil was never heard at 
 Woodstock, until it became the residence of such men as 
 they, who have now usurped the possession." 
 
 " There is more than imagination in it," said Ever- 
 ard. '* I have personal reason to know there is some 
 conspiracy carrying on, to render the house untenantable 
 by the Commissioners. I acquit my uncle of accession 
 to such a silly trick ; but I must see it ended ere 1 can 
 agree to his and my cousin's residing where such a con- 
 federacy exists ; for they are likely to be considered as 
 the contrivers of such pranks, be the actual agent who he 
 may." 
 
 " With reverence to your better acquaintance with the 
 gentleman, Everard, 1 should rather suspect the old 
 father of Puritans (I beg your pardon again) has some- 
 thing to do with the business ; and if so, Lucifer will 
 never look near the true old Knight's beard, nor abide a 
 glance of yonder maiden's innocent blue eyes. 1 will up- 
 liold them as safe as pure gold in a miser's chest." 
 
 " Sawest thou aught thyself, which makes thee think 
 thus ?" 
 
 " Not a qnill of the devil's pinion saw I," replied 
 Wildrake. " He supposes himself too secure of an old 
 cavalier, who must steal, hang, or drown in the long run, 
 so he gives himself no trouble to look after the assured 
 booty. But J heard the serving-fellows prate of what 
 they had seen and heard ; and though their tales were 
 confused enough, yet if there was any truth among them 
 at all, I should say the devil must have been in the dance.
 
 188 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 — But, hollo ! here comes some one upon us. — Stand, 
 friend — who art thou ?" 
 
 " A poor day-lahourer in the great work of England 
 — Joseph Tomkins by name — Secretary to a godly and 
 well-endowed leader in this poor Christian army of Eng- 
 land, called General Harrison." 
 
 " What news, Master Tomkins ?" said Everard ; 
 " and why are you on the road at this late hour ?" 
 
 " I speak to the worthy Colonel Everard, as 1 judge," 
 said Tomkins ; " and truly I am glad of meeting your 
 honour. — Heaven knows, I need such assistance as 
 yours. — O worthy master Ev^erard ! — Here has been a 
 sounding of trumpets, and a breaking of vials, and a 
 pouring forth, and " 
 
 " Pr'ythee tell me, in brief, what is the matter — where 
 is thy master — and, in a word, what has happened f" 
 
 " My master is close by, parading it in the little mead- 
 ow, beside the hugeous oak, which is called by the name 
 of the late Man ; ride but two steps forward, and you 
 may see him walking swiftly to and fro, advancing all the 
 while the naked weapon." 
 
 Upon proceeding as directed, but with as little noise 
 as possible, they descried a man, whom of coursg they 
 concluded must be Harrison, walking to and fro beneath 
 the King's Oak, as a sentinel under arms, but with more 
 wildness of demeanour. The tramp of the horses did 
 not escape his ear ; and they heard him call out as if at 
 the head of the brigade — " Lower pikes against cavalry ! 
 — Here comes Prince Rupert — Stand fast, and you shall 
 turn them aside, as a bull would toss a cur-dog. — Lower 
 your pikes still, my hearts, the end secured against your 
 foot — down on your right knee, front rank — spare not for 
 the spoiling of your blue aprons. — Ha — Zerobabel — ay, 
 that is the word." 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, about whom or what is he 
 talkins; f" said Everard ; " wherefore does lie go about 
 with his weapon drawn ?" 
 
 *' Trnlv, sir, when aught disturbs my masler General 
 Harrison, lie is son)ething rapt in the spirit, and conceives
 
 WOODSTOCK. 189 
 
 that he is commanding a reserve of pikes at the great bat- 
 tle of Armageddon — and for his weapon, alack, worthy 
 sir, wherefore should he keep Sheffield steel in calves' 
 leather, when there are fiends to be combated — incarnate 
 fiends on earth f" 
 
 "This is intolerable," said Everard. " Listen to me 
 Tomkins. Thou art not now in the pulpit, and I desire 
 none of thy preaching language. I know thou canst speak 
 intelligibly when thou art so minded. Remember, 1 may 
 serve or harm thee ; and as you hope or fear anything 
 on my part, answer straight-forward — What has happen- 
 ed to drive out thy master to the wild wood at this time of 
 night ?" 
 
 " Forsooth, worthy and honoured sir, I will speak with 
 the precision 1 may. True it is, and of verity, that the 
 breath of man, which is in his nostrils, goeth forth and 
 returneth " 
 
 " Hark you, sir," said Colonel Everard, " take care 
 where you ramble in your correspondence with me. You 
 have heard how at the great battle of Dunbar in Scotland, 
 the General himself held a pistol to the head of Lieuten- 
 ant Hewcreed, threatening to shoot him through the brain 
 if he did not give up holding forth, and put his squadron in 
 line to the front. Take care, sir." 
 
 *' Verily, the lieutenant then charged with an even and 
 unbroken order," said Tomkins, "and bore a thousand 
 plaids and bonnets over the beach before him into the 
 sea. Neither shall I pretermit or postpone your honour's 
 commands, but speedily obey them, and that without 
 delay." 
 
 " Go to, fellow ; thou knowest what 1 would have," 
 said Everard ; " speak at once — 1 know thou canst if 
 thou wilt. Trusty Tomkins is better known than he 
 thinks for." » 
 
 " Worthy sir," said Tomkins, in a much less peri- 
 phrastic style, " I will obey your worship as far as the 
 spirit will permit. Truly, it was not an hour since, 
 when my worshipful master being at table with Piaster 
 Bibbet and myself, not to mention the worshipful Master
 
 190 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Bletson and Colonel Desborough, and behold there was 
 a violent knocking at the gate, as of one in haste. Now, 
 of a certainty, so much had our household been harass- 
 ed with witches and spirits, and other objects of sound 
 and sight, that the sentinels could not be brought to abide 
 upon their posts without doors, and it was only by pro- 
 vision of beef and strong liquors that we were able to 
 maintain a guard of three men in the hall, who never- 
 theless ventured not to open the door, lest they should 
 be surprised with some of the gobhns wherewith their 
 imaginations were overwhelmed. And they heard the 
 knocking, which increased until it seemed that the door 
 was well nigh about to be beaten dow'n. Worthy Master 
 Bibbet was a little overcome with liquor, (as is his fash- 
 ion, good man, about this time of the evening,) not that 
 he is in the least given to ebriety, but simply, that since 
 the Scottish campaign he hath had a perpetual ague, 
 which obliges him so to nourish his frame against the 
 damps of the night ; wherefore, as it is well known to 
 your honour that I discharge the office of a faithful ser- 
 vant as well to Major General Harrison, and the other 
 Commissioners, as to my just and lawful master. Colonel 
 Desborough " 
 
 " I know all that. — And now that thou art trusted by 
 both, I pray to Heaven thou may'st merit the trust," 
 said Colonel Everard. 
 
 " And devoutly do I pray," said Tomkins, " that 
 your worshipful prayers may be answered with favour ; 
 for certainly to be, and to be called and entitled, Honest 
 Joe, and Trusty Tomkins, is to me more than ever would 
 be an Earl's title, were such things to be granted anew in 
 this regenerated government." 
 
 " Well, go on — go on — or if thou dalliest much long- 
 'er, I will make bold to dispute the article of your hon- 
 esty. I hke short tales, sir, and doubt what is told with 
 a Ions; unnecessary train of words." 
 
 " Well, good sir, be not hasty. As 1 said before, the 
 doors rattled till you would have thought the knocking 
 was reiterated in every room of the Palace. The bell
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 191 
 
 rung out for company, though we could not find out that 
 any one tolled the clapper*, and the guards let off their 
 firelocks, merely because they knew not what better to 
 do. So Master Bibbet being, as 1 said, unsusceptible of 
 his duty, I went down with my poor rapier to the door, 
 and demanded who was there ; and 1 was answered in 
 a voice, which, I must say, was much like another voice, 
 that it was one wanting Major-General Harrison. So as 
 it was then late, 1 answered mildly, that General Harrison 
 was betaking himself to his rest, and that any who wish- 
 ed to speak to him must return on the morrow morning, 
 for that after nightfall the door of the Palace, being in the 
 room of a garrison, would be opened to no one. So the 
 voice replied, and bid me open directly, without which 
 he would blow the folding leaves of the door into the mid- 
 dle of the hall. And therewithal the noise recommenced, 
 that we thought the house would have fallen ; and 1 was 
 in some measure constrained to open the door, even like 
 a besieged garrison which can hold out no longer." 
 
 " By my honour, and it was stoutly done of you I must 
 say," said Wildrake, who had been listening with much 
 interest. " I am a bold dare-devil enough, yet when I 
 had two inches of oak plank between the actual fiend and 
 me, hang him that would demolish the barrier between 
 us, say I — I would as soon, when aboard, bore a hole in 
 the ship, and let in the waves ; for you know we always 
 compare the devil to the deep sea." 
 
 " Pr'ythee, peace, Wildrake," said Everard, " and 
 let him on with his history. — Well, and what saw'st thou 
 when the door was opened ? — the great Devil with his 
 horns and claws thou wilt say, no doubt." 
 
 " No, sir, I will say nothing but what is true : When I 
 undid the door, one man stood there, and he, to seeming, 
 a man of no extraordinary appearance. He was wrap- 
 ped in a tafFety cloak, of a scarlet colour, and with a red 
 lining. He seemed as if he might have been in his time 
 a very handsome man, but there was somethmg of pale- 
 ness and sorrow in his face — a long love-lock and long 
 hair he wore, even after the abomination of the cava-
 
 192 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 liers, and the unloveliness, as learned Master Prynne well 
 termed it, of love-locks — a jewel in his ear — a blue scarf 
 over his shoulder, like a military commander for the King, 
 and a hat with a white plume, bearing a peculiar hat-band." 
 
 *' Some unhappy officer of cavaliers, of whom so many 
 are in hiding, and seeking shelter through the country," 
 briefly replied Everard. 
 
 " True, worthy sir — right as a judicious exposition. 
 But there was something about this man (if he was a 
 man,) whom 1, for one, could not look upon without trem- 
 blmg ; nor the musketeers who were in the hall, without 
 betraying much alarm, and swallowing, as they them- 
 selves will aver, the very bullets which they had in their 
 mouths for loading their carabines and muskets. Nay, 
 the wolf and deer-dogs, that are the fiercest of their 
 kind, fled from the visiter, and crept into holes and cor- 
 ners, moaning and wailing in a low and broken tone. 
 He came into the middle of the hall, and still he seemed 
 no more than an ordinary man, only somewhat fantastic- 
 ally dressed, in a doublet of black velvet pinked upon 
 scarlet satin under his cloak, a jewel in his ear, with large 
 roses in his shoes, and a kerchief in his hand, which he 
 sometimes pressed against his left side." 
 
 " Gracious Heaven !" said Wildrake, coming close up 
 to Everard, and whispering in his ear, with accents which 
 terror rendered tremulous, (a mood of mind most un- 
 usual to the daring man, who seemed now overcome by 
 it.,) — " it must have been poor Dick Robison the player, 
 in the very dress in which I have seen him play Philaster 
 — ay, and drank a jolly bottle with him after it at the 
 Mermaid ! I remember how many frolicks we had to2:eth- 
 er, and all his little fantastic fashions. He served for his 
 old master, Charles, in Mohnn's troop, and was murdered 
 by this butcher's dog, as 1 have heard, after surrender, 
 at the battle of Naseby field." 
 
 '* Hush ! 1 have heard of the deed," said Everard ; 
 " for God's sake hear the man to an end. — Did this 
 visiter speak to thee, my friend .'^"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 193 
 
 *' Yes, sir, in a pleasing tone of voice, but somewhat 
 fanciful in the articulation, and like one who is speaking 
 to an audience as from a bar or a pulpit, more than in 
 the voice of ordinary men on ordinary matters. He de- 
 sired to see IMajor-General Harrison." 
 
 " He did ! — and you," said Everard, infected by the 
 spirit of the time, which, as is well known, leaned to cre- 
 dulity upon all matters of supernatural agency, — " what 
 did you do .'^" 
 
 *' 1 went up to the parlour, and related that such a 
 person inquired for him. He started when 1 told him, and 
 eagerly desired to know the man's dress ; but no sooner 
 did I mention his dress, and the jewel in his ear, than he 
 said, ' Begone ! tell him I will not admit him to speech 
 of me. Say that I defy him, and will make my defiance 
 good at the great battle in the valley of Armageddon, 
 when the voice of the angel shall call all fowls which fly 
 under the face of heaven to feed on the flesh of the cap- 
 tain and the soldier, the v.'ar-horse and his rider. Say 
 to the Evil One, 1 have power to appeal our conflict 
 even till that day, and that in the front of that fearful day 
 he will again meet with Harrison.' 1 went back with this 
 answer to the stranger, and his face was writhed into such 
 a deadly frown as a mere human brow hath seldom worn. 
 * Return to him,' he said, ' and say it is my hour ; and 
 that if he come not instantly down to speak with me, I will 
 mount the stairs to him. Say that I command him to 
 descend, by the token, that, on the field of Naseby, he 
 did not the work negligently.'' " 
 
 " I have heard," whispered Wildrake, — who felt more 
 and more strongly the contagion of superstition, — " that 
 these words were blasphemously used by Harrison when 
 he shot my poor friend Dick." 
 
 " What happened next V said Everard. " See that 
 thou speakest the truth." 
 
 *' As gospel unexpounded by a steeple-man," said the 
 Independent ; " yet truly it is but little I have to say. 
 I sav/ my master come down, with a blank, yet resolved 
 
 17 VOL. I.
 
 194 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 air ; and when be entered the hall and saw the stranger, 
 he made a pause. The other waved on him as if to fol- 
 low, and walked out at the portal. My worthy patron 
 seemed as if he were about to follow, yet again paused, 
 when this visitant, be he man or fiend, re-entered, and 
 said, * Obey thy doom. 
 
 ' By pathless march, by greenwood tree, 
 It is thy weird to follow me — 
 To follow me through the ghastly moonlight — 
 To follow me through the shadows of night — 
 To follow me, comrade, slill art thou bound: 
 I conjure thee by the unstanched wound — 
 I conjure thee by the last words I spoke, 
 When the body slept and the spirit awoke, 
 In the very last pangs of the deadly stroke.' 
 
 So saying, he stalked out, and my master followed him 
 into the wood. — I followed also at a distance. But when 
 I came up, my master was alone, and bearing himself as 
 you now behold him." 
 
 " Thou hast had a wonderful memory, friend," said 
 the Colonel, coldly, "to remember these rhymes in a 
 single recitation — there seems something of practice in 
 all this," 
 
 *' A single recitation, my honoured sir .^" exclaimed 
 the Independent, — " alack, the rhyme is seldom out of 
 my poor master's mouth, i^hen, as sometimes haps, he is 
 less triumphant in his wrestles with Satan. But it was 
 the first time I ever heard it uttered by another ; and, 
 to say truth, he ever seems to repeat it unwillingly, as a 
 child after his pedagogue, and as it was not indited by 
 his own head, as the Psalmist saith." 
 
 " It is strange," said Everard, — " I have heard and 
 read that the spirits of the slaughtered have strange 
 power over the slayer ; but I am astonished to believe 
 there may be truth in such tales. — Roger Wildrake — 
 what art thou afraid of, man ^ — why dost thou shift thy 
 place thus .^" 
 
 " Fear ? it is not fear — it is hate, deadly hate. — I 
 see the murderer of poor Dick before me, and — see, he
 
 WOODSTOCK. 195 
 
 throws himself into a posture of fence — Sa — sa — say'st 
 thou, brood of a butcher's mastiff? thou shalt not want an 
 antagonist." 
 
 Ere any one could stop him, Wildrake threw aside his 
 cloak, drew his sword, and almost with a single bound 
 cleared the distance betwixt him and Harrison, and cross- 
 ed swords with the latter, as he stood brandishiiig his 
 weapon, as if in immediate expectation of an assailant. 
 Accordingly, the Republican General was not for an in- 
 stant taken at unawares, but the moment the swords 
 clashed, he shouted, "Ha! I feel thee now, thou hast 
 come in body at last. — Welcome ! welcome ! — the sword 
 of the Lord and of Gideon !" 
 
 " Part them, part them," cried Everard, as he and 
 Tomkins, at first astonished at the suddenness of the 
 affray, hastened to interfere. Everard, seizing on the 
 cavalier, drew him forcibly backwards, while Tomkins 
 contrived, with risk and difficulty, to master Harrison's 
 sword, while the General exclaimed, " Ha ! two to one 
 — two to one ! — thus fight demons." Wildrake, on his 
 side, swore a dreadful oath, and added, " Markham, you 
 have cancelled every obligation I owed you — they are all 
 out of sight — gone, d — n me." 
 
 " You have indeed acquitted these obligations rarely," 
 said Everard. "Who knows how this affair shall be 
 explained and answered ?" 
 
 " I will answer it with my life," said Wildrake. 
 
 " Good now be silent," said Tomkins, " and let me 
 manage. It shall be so ordered that the good General 
 shall never know that he hath encountered with mortal 
 man ; only let that man of Moab put his sword into the 
 scabbard's rest, and be still." 
 
 " Wildrake, let me entreat thee to sheathe thy. sword,'*' 
 said Everard ; " else, on my life, thou must turn it 
 against me." 
 
 "No, 'fore George, not so mad as that neither ; but 
 I'll have another day with him." 
 
 " Thou, another day !" exclaimed Harrison, whose 
 eye had still remained fixed on the spot where he found
 
 196 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 such palpable resistance. "Yes, I know thee well ; day 
 by day, week by week, thou makest the same idle request, 
 for thou knowest that my heart quivers at thy voice. — 
 But my hand trembles not when opposed to thine — the 
 spirit is willing to the combat, if the flesh be weak when 
 opposed to that which is not of the flesh." 
 
 " Now, peace all, for Heaven's sake," — said the stew- 
 ard Tomkins ; then added, addressing his master, 
 " there is no one here, if it please your Excellence, but 
 Tomkins and the worthy Colonel Everard." 
 
 General Harrison, as sometimes happens in cases of 
 partial insanity, (that is, supposing his to have been a 
 case of mental delusion,) though firmly and entirely per- 
 suaded of the truth of his own visions, yet was not will- 
 ing to speak on the subject to those who, he knew, would 
 regard them as imaginary. Upon this occasion he as- 
 sumed the appearance of perfect ease and composure, 
 after the violent agitation he had just manifested, in a man- 
 ner which showed how anxious he was to disguise his 
 real feelings from Everard, whom he considered as un- 
 likely to participate them. 
 
 He saluted the Colonel with profound ceremony, and 
 talked of the fineness of the evening which had summon- 
 ed him forth of the Lodge, to take a turn in the Park, 
 and enjoy the favourable weather. He then took Ever- 
 ard by the arm, and walked back with him towards the 
 Lodge, Wildrake and Tomkins following close behind 
 and leading the horses. Everard, desirous to gain some 
 light on these mysterious incidents, endeavoured to come 
 on the subject more than once, by a mode of interroga- 
 tion, which Harrison (for madmen are very often unwil- 
 ling to enter on the subject of their mental delusion) 
 parried with some skill, or addressed himself for aid to 
 his steward Tomkins, who was in the habit of being 
 voucher for his master upon all occasions, which led to 
 Desborough's ingenious nickname of Fibbet. 
 
 " And wherefore had you your sword drawn, my w^or- 
 thy General," said Everard, " when you were only on 
 an evening walk of pleasure .''"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 197 
 
 " Truly, excellent Colonel, these are times when men 
 must watch with their loins girded, and their lights burn- 
 ing, and their weapons drawn. The day draweth nigh, 
 believe me or not as you will, that men must watch lest 
 they be found naked and unarmed, when the seven trum- 
 pets shall sound. Boot and saddle ; and the pipes of 
 Jezer shall strike up. Horse and away." 
 
 " True, good General ; but methought I saw you 
 making passes even now as if you were fighting," said 
 Everard. 
 
 " I am of a strange fantasy, friend Everard," answer- 
 ed Harrison ; " and when I walk alone, and happen, as 
 but now^, to have my weapon drawn, I sometimes, for 
 exercise sake, will practise a thrust against such a tree 
 as that. It is a silly pride men have in the use of wea- 
 pons. I have been accounted a master of fence, and have 
 fought prizes when I was unregenerated, and before I 
 was called to do my part in the great work, entering as a 
 trooper into our victorious General's first regiment of 
 horse." 
 
 " But methought," said Everard, " I heard a weapon 
 clash with yours .''" 
 
 " How ? a weapon clash with my sword ? — How^ could 
 that be, Tomkins ?" 
 
 "Truly, sir," said Tomkins, " it must have been a 
 bough of the tree ; they have them of all kinds here, and 
 your honour may have pushed against one of them, which 
 the Brazilians call iron-wood, a block of which being 
 struck witli a hammer, saiih Purchas in his Pilgrimage, 
 ringeth like an anvil." 
 
 " Truly, ii may be so," said Harrison ; " for these 
 rulers who are gone, assembled in this their abode of 
 pleasure many strange trees and plants, though they 
 gathered not of the fruit of that tree, which beareth 
 twelve manner of fruits, or of those leaves which are for 
 the healing of the nations." 
 
 Everard pursued his investigation; for he was struck 
 with the manner in which Harrison evaded his questions^ 
 
 17* VOL. I.
 
 198 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and the dexterity with which he threw his transcendental 
 and fanatical notions, like a sort of veil, over the darker 
 visions excited by remorse and conscious guilt. 
 
 '^ But," said he, " if I may trust my eyes and ears, 1 
 cannot but still think that you had a real antagonist — 
 Nay, 1 am sure I saw a fellow, in a dark-coloured jerkin, 
 retreat through the wood." 
 
 " Did you f" said Harrison, with a tone of surprise, 
 while his voice faltered in spite of him> '* Who could he 
 be f — Tomkins, did you see the fellow Colonel Everard 
 talks of with the napkin in his hand — the bloody napkin 
 which he always pressed to his side ?" 
 
 This last expression, in which Harrison gave a mark 
 different from that which Everard had assigned, but 
 corresponding to Tomkins' original description of the 
 supposed spectre, had more effect on Everard in confirm- 
 ing the steward's story, than anything he had witnessed 
 or heard. The voucher answered the draft upon him 
 as promptly as usual, that he had seen such a fellow glide 
 past them into the thicket — that he dare say he was some 
 deer-stealer, for he had heard they were become very 
 audacious. 
 
 " Look ye there now, Master Everard," said Harri- 
 son, hurrying from the subject — " Is it not time now that 
 we should lay aside our controversies, and join hand in 
 hand to repairing the breaches of our Zion ? Happy and 
 contented were I, my excellent friend, to be a treader of 
 mortar, or the bearer of a hod, upon this occasion, under 
 our great leader, with whom Providence has gone forth 
 in this great national controversy ; and truly, so devoutly 
 do I hold by your excellent and victorious General Oliver, 
 whom Heaven long preserve — that were he to command 
 me, 1 should not scruple to pluck forth of his high place 
 the man whom they call Speaker, even as I lent a poor 
 hand to pluck down the man whom they called King. — 
 "Wherefore, as I know your judgment holdeth with mine 
 on this matter, let me urge unto you lovingly, that we 
 may act as brethren, and build up the breaches, and re- 
 establish the bulwarks of our English Zion, whereby we
 
 WOODSTOCK. 199 
 
 shall be doubtless chosen as pillars and buttresses, under 
 our excellent Lord General, for supporting and sustaining 
 the same, and endowed with proper revenues and in- 
 comes, both spiritual and temporal, to serve as a pedestal, 
 on which we may stand, seeing that otherwise our foun- 
 dation will be on the loose sand. — Nevertheless," con- 
 tinued he, his mind again diverging from his view^s of 
 temporal ambition into his visions of the Fifth Monarchy, 
 " these things are but vanity in respect of the opening of 
 the book which is sealed ; for all things approach speedily 
 towards lightning and thundering, and unloosing of the 
 great dragon from the bottomless pit, wherein he is 
 chained." 
 
 With this mingled strain of earthly politics, and fanat- 
 ical prediction, Harrison so overpowered Colonel Ever- 
 ard, as to leave him no time to urge him further on the 
 particular circumstances of his nocturnal skirmish, con- 
 cerning which it is plain he had no desire to be interro- 
 gated. They now reached the Lodge of Woodstock. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Now the wasted brands do glow, 
 
 While the screech-owl, sounding loud, 
 Puts the wretch that lies in woe, 
 
 In remembrance of a shroud. 
 Now it is the time of night 
 
 That, the graves all gaping wide, 
 Every one lets out its sprite. 
 
 In the church-way paths to glide. 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 Before the gate of the palace the guards were now 
 doubled. Everard demanded the reason of this from 
 the corporal, whom he found in the hall with his soldiers, 
 sitting or sleeping around a great fire, maintained at the
 
 200 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 expense of the carved chairs and benches with fragments 
 of which it was furnished. 
 
 " Why, verily," answered the man, " the corps de 
 garde, as your worship says, will be harassed to pieces 
 by such duty ; nevertheless, fear halh gone abroad among 
 us, and no one man will mount guard alone. We have 
 drawn in, however, one or two of our outposts from 
 Banbury and elsewhere, and we are to have a relief from 
 Oxford to-morrow." 
 
 Everard continued minute inquiries concerning the 
 sentinels that were posted within as well as without the 
 Castle ; and found that, as they had been stationed under 
 the eye of Harrison himself, the rules of prudent disci- 
 phne had been exactly observed in the distribution of the 
 posts. There remained nothing therefore for Colonel 
 Everard to do, excepting that, remembering his own ad- 
 venture of the evening, to recommend that an additional 
 sentinel should be placed, with a companion, if judged 
 indispensable, in that vestibule, or anti-room, from which 
 the long gallery, where he had met with the rencounter, 
 and other suits of apartments, diverged. The corporal 
 respectfully promised all obedience to his orders. The 
 serving-men being called, appeared also in double force. 
 Everard demanded to know whether the Commissioners 
 had gone to bed, or whether he could get speech with 
 them ? 
 
 " They are in their bed-room, forsooth," replied one 
 of the fellows; " but I think be not yet undressed." 
 
 " What !" said Everard, " are Colonel Desborough 
 and Master Bletson both in tiie same sleeping apartment.^" 
 
 " Their honours have so chosen it," said the man ; 
 *' and their honours' secretaries remain upon guard all 
 night." 
 
 " It is the fashion to double guards all over the house," 
 said Wild rake. " Had 1 a glimpse of a good-looking 
 house-maid nov/, I should know how to fall into the fash- 
 ion." 
 
 " Peace, fool !" said Everard.—" And where are the 
 Mayor and Master Holdenough ?"
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 201 
 
 " The Mayor is returned to the borough on horseback, 
 behind the trooper, who goes to Oxford for the reinforce- 
 ment ; and the man of the steeple-house hath quartered 
 himself in the chamber which Colonel Desborough had 
 last night, being that in which he is most likely to meet 
 
 the your honour understands. The Lord pity us, 
 
 we are a harassed family !" 
 
 " And where be General Harrison's knaves," said 
 Tomkins, " that they do not marshal him to his apart- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " Here — here — here, Master Tomkins," said three 
 fellows, pressing forward, with the same consternation 
 on their faces which seemed to pervade the whole inhab- 
 itants of Woodstock. 
 
 "Away with you then," said Tomkins; — " speak not 
 to his worship — you see he is not in the humour." 
 
 " Indeed," observed Colonel Everard, " he looks 
 singularly wan — his features seem writhen as by a palsy 
 stroke ; and though he was talking so fast while he came 
 along, he hath not opened his mouth since we came to 
 the light." 
 
 " It is his manner after such visitations," said Tom- 
 kins. — " Give his honour your arms, Zedekiah and Jon- 
 athan, to lead him off — I will follow instantly. — You, 
 Nicodemus, tarry to wait upon me — it is not well walking 
 alone in this mansion." 
 
 " Master Tomkins," said Everard, " I have heard of 
 you often as a sharp, intelligent man — tell me fairly, are 
 you in earnest afraid of anything supernatural haunting 
 this house ?" 
 
 " I would be loath to run the chance, sir," said Tom- 
 kins very gravely ; " by looking on my worshipful master, 
 you may form a guess how the hving look after they have 
 spoken with the dead." He bowed low, and took his 
 leave. Everard proceeded to the chamber which the 
 two remaining Commissioners had, for comfort's sake, 
 chosen to inhabit in company. They were preparing for 
 bed as he went into their apartment. Both started as
 
 202 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 the door opened — both rejoiced when they saw it was 
 only Evejard who entered. 
 
 " Hark ye hither," said Bletson, pulling him aside, 
 "sawest thou ever ass equal to Desborough ? — the fellow 
 is as big as an ox, and as timorous as a sheep. He has 
 insisted on my sleeping here to protect him. Shall we 
 have a merry night on't, ha? We will, if thou wilt take 
 the third bed, which was prepared for Harrison ; but he 
 is gone out, hke a mooncalf, to look for the valley of 
 Armageddon in the Park of Woodstock." 
 
 " General Harrison has returned with me but now," 
 said Everard. 
 
 " Nay but, as I shall live, he comes not into our apart- 
 ment," said Desborough, overhearijig his answer. *' No 
 man that has been supping, for aught 1 know, with the 
 Devil, has a right to sleep among Christian folks." 
 
 " He does not propose so," said Everard ; " he sleeps, 
 as I understand, apart — and alone." 
 
 " Not quite alone, I dare say," said Desborough ; 
 " for Harrison hath a sort of attraction for goblins — they 
 fly round him like moths about a candle : But, I prithee, 
 good Everard, do thou stay with us. I know not how it 
 is, but although thou hast not thy religion always in thy 
 mouth, nor speakest many hard words about it, like Har- 
 rison — nor makest long preachments, like a certain most 
 honourable relation of mine who shall be nameless, yet 
 somehow I feel myself safer in thy company than with 
 any of them. As for this Bletson, he is such a mere 
 blasphemer, that I fear the Devil will carry him away 
 
 '&' 
 
 " Did you ever hear such a paltry coward ?" said 
 Bletson, apart to Everard. " Do tarry, however, my 
 honoured Colonel — I know your zeal to assist the dis- 
 tressed, and you see Desborough is in that predicament, 
 that he will require near him more than one good ex- 
 ample to prevent him thinking of ghosts and fiends." 
 
 ''I am sorry I cannot oblige you, gentlemen," said 
 Everard ; " but I have settled my mind to sleep in 
 Victor Lee's apartment, so I wish you good night ; and
 
 WOODSTOCK. 203 
 
 if you would repose without disturbance, I would advise 
 that you commend yourselves, during the watches of the 
 night, to Him unto whom night is even as mid-day. I 
 had intended to have spoke with you this evening on the 
 subject of my being here ; but I will defer the confer- 
 ence till to-morrow, when, I think, I will be able to show 
 you excellent reason for leaving Woodstock." 
 
 " We have seen plenty such already," said Desbo- 
 rough ; " for one, I came here to serve the estate, with 
 moderate advantage doubtless to myself for my trouble : 
 but if I am set upon my head again to-night, as I was the 
 night before, I would not stay longer to gain a king's 
 crown, for 1 am sure my neck would be unfitted to bear 
 the weight of it." 
 
 " Good night," exclaimed Everard ; and was about 
 to go, w^ien Bletson again pressed close, and whispered 
 to him, " Hark thee, Colonel — you know my friendship 
 for thee — I do implore thee to leave the door of thy apart- 
 ment open, that if thou meetest with any disturbance, I 
 may hear thee call, and be with thee upon the very in- 
 stant. Do this, dear Everard, my fears for thee will keep 
 me awake else ; for I know that, notwithstanding your 
 excellent sense, you entertain some of those superstitious 
 ideas which we suck in with our mother's milk, and which 
 constitute the ground of our fears in situations like the 
 present ; therefore leave thy door open, if you love me, 
 that you may have ready assistance from me in case of 
 need." 
 
 " My master," said Wildrake, " trusts, first, in his 
 Bible, sir, and then in his good sword. He has no idea 
 that the Devil can be bafl3ed by the charm of two men 
 lying-in one room, still less that the foul fiend can be ar- 
 gued out of existence by the Nullifidians of the Rota." 
 
 Everard seized his imprudent friend by the collar, and 
 dragged him off as he was speaking, keeping fast hold of 
 him till they were both in the chamber of Victor Lee, 
 where they had slept on a former occasion. Even then 
 he continued to hold Wildrake, until the servant had ar- 
 ranged the lights, and was dismissed from the room j then
 
 204 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 letting him go, addressed him with the upbraiding ques- 
 tion, " Art thou not a prudent and sagacious person, 
 who in times hke these seek every opportunity to argue 
 yourself into a broil, or embroil yourself in an argument ? 
 Out on you ?" 
 
 " Ay, out on me indeed," said the cavalier ; " out on 
 me for a poor tame-spirited creature, that submits to be 
 bandied about in this manner, by a man who is neither 
 better born nor better bred than myself. I tell thee, 
 Mark, you make an unfair use of your advantages over 
 me. Why will you not let me go from you, and Hve and 
 die after my own fashion ?" 
 
 " Because, before we had been a week separate, I 
 should hear of your dying after the fashion of a dog. 
 Come, my good friend, what madness was it in thee to 
 fall foul on Harrison, and then to enter into useless ar- 
 gument with Bletson f" 
 
 " Why, we are in the Devil's house, I think, and I 
 would willingly give the landlord his due wherever I 
 travel. To have sent him Harrison, or Bletson now, 
 just as a lunch to stop his appetite, till Crom " 
 
 " Hush ! stone walls have ears," said Everard, looking 
 around him. " Here stands thy night-drink. Look to 
 my arms, for we must be as careful as if the Avenger of 
 Blood were behind us. Yonder is thy bed — and I, as 
 thou seest, have one prepared in the parlour. The door 
 only divides us." 
 
 " Which I will leave open, in case thou should'st hollo 
 for assistance, as yonder Nullifidian hath it. — But how 
 hast thou got all this so well put in order, good patron .^" 
 
 " I gave the steward Tomkins notice of my purpose 
 to sleep here." 
 
 " A strange fellow that," said Wildrake, " and, as I 
 judge, has taken measure of every one's foot — all seems 
 to pass through his hands." 
 
 " He is, I have understood," replied Everard, "one 
 of the men formed by the times — has a ready gift of 
 preaching and expoundinj^, which keeps him in high 
 terms with the Independents ; and recommends himself
 
 WOODSTOCK. 205 
 
 to the more moderate people by his intelligence and 
 activity." 
 
 "Has his sincerity ever been doubted r" said Wildrake. 
 
 " Never, that I heard of,'' said the Colonel ; " on the 
 contrary, he has been familiarly called Honest Joe, and 
 Trusty Tomkins. For my part, 1 believe his sincerity 
 has always kept pace with his interest. Bui come, finish 
 thy cup, and to bed. — What, all emptied atone draught.''" 
 
 " Adszookers, yes — my vow forbids me to make two 
 on't ; but, never fear — the nightcap will only waim my 
 brain, not clog it. So, man or devil, give me notice if 
 you are disturbed, and rely on me in a twinkling." So 
 saying, the cavalier retreated into his separate apartment, 
 and Colonel Everard, taking off the most cumbrous part 
 of his dress, lay down in his hose and doublet, and com- 
 posed himself to rest. 
 
 He was awakened from sleeping by a slow and solemn 
 strain of music, which died away as at a distance. He 
 started up, and felt for his arms, which he found close 
 beside him. His temporary bed being without curtains, 
 he could look around him without difficulty ; but as there 
 remained in the chimney only a few red embers of the 
 fire, which he had arranged before he went to sleep, it 
 was impossible he could discern any thing. He felt, 
 therefore, in spite of his natural courage, tliat undefined 
 and thrilling species of tremor which attends a sense 
 that danger is near, and an uncertainty concerning its 
 cause and character. Reluctant as he was to yield be- 
 lief to supernatural occurrences, we have not already-said 
 he was not absolutely incredulous ; as perhaps, even in 
 this more sceptical age, there are many fewer complete 
 and absolute infidels on this particular tlian give them- 
 selves out for such. Uncertain whether he had not 
 dreamed of these sounds which seemed yet in his ears, 
 he was unwilling to risk the raillery of his friend by sum- 
 moning him to his assistance. He sat up, therefore, in 
 his bed, not without experiencing that nervous agitation 
 to which brave men as well as cowards are subject ; 
 
 18 VOL. I.
 
 206 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 with this difference, that the one sinks under it, hke the 
 vine under the hail-storm, and the other collects his en- 
 ergies to shake it off, as the cedar of Lebanon is said to 
 elevate its boughs to disperse the snow which accumu- 
 lates upon them. 
 
 The stor}' of Harrison, in his own absolute despite, and 
 notwithstanding a secret suspicion which he had of trick 
 or connivance, returned on his mind at this dead and 
 solitary hour. Harrison, he remembered, had described 
 the vision by a circumstance of its appearance different 
 from that which his own remark had been calculated to 
 suggest to the mind of the visionary ; — that bloody nap- 
 kin, always pressed to the side, was then a circumstance 
 present either to his bodily eye, or to that of his agitated 
 imagination. Did, then, the murdered revisit the living 
 haunts of those who had forced them from the stage, 
 with all their sins unaccounted for ? And if they did, 
 miglit not the same permission authorize other visitations 
 of a similar nature, to warn — to instiuct — to punish ? 
 Rash are they, was his conclusion, and credulous, who 
 receive as truth every tale of the kind ; but no less rash 
 may it be, to hmit the power of the Creator over the 
 works which he has made, and to suppose that, by the 
 permission of the Author of Nature, the laws of Nature 
 may not, in peculiar cases, and for high purposes, be 
 temporarily suspended. 
 
 VVhile these thoughts passed through Everard's mind, 
 feelings unknown to him, even when he stood first on the 
 rough and perilous edge of battle gained ground upon 
 him. He feared he knew^ not what ; and where an open 
 and discernible peril would have drawn out his courage, 
 the absolute uncertainty of his situation increased his 
 sense of the danger. He felt an almost irresistible de- 
 sire to spring from his bed and heap fuel on the dying 
 embers, expecting by the blaze to see some strange sight 
 in his chamber. He was also strongly tempted to awaken 
 Wildrake ; but shame, stronger than fear itself, checked 
 these impulses. What ! should it be thought that IMark- 
 ham Everardjheld one of the best soldiers who had drawn
 
 VvOODSTOCi^ 
 
 107 
 
 a sword in this sad war — Markham Everard, who had 
 obtained such distinguished rank in the army of the Par- 
 liament, thougli so young in years, was afraid of remain- 
 ing by himself in a twihghi-room at midniglitf — It never 
 should be said. 
 
 Tnis was, however, no charm for his unpleasant cur- 
 rent of thought. There rushed on his mind the various 
 traditions of Victor Lee's chamber, which, tliough he 
 had often despised them as vague, unauthenticater, and 
 inconsistent rumours, engendered by ancient superstition 
 and transmitted from generation to generation by loqua- 
 cious credulity, had yet something in tliern, which did not 
 tend to allay the present unpleasant slate of the nerves. 
 Then, when he recollected the events of that very after- 
 noon, the weapon pressed against his throat, and the 
 strong arm which threw him backward on the fioor — 
 if the remembrance served to contradict the idea of flit- 
 ting phantoms, and unreal daggers, it certainly induced 
 him to believe, that there was in some part of this exten- 
 sive mansion a party of cavaliers, or malignants, harbour- 
 ed, who might arise in the night, overpower the guards, 
 and execute upon them all, but on Harrison in particular, 
 as one of the regicide judges, that vengeance, which was 
 so eagerly thirsted for by the attached followers of the 
 slauohtered monarch. 
 
 He endeavoured to console himself on this subject, by 
 the number and position of the guards, yet still was dis- 
 satisfied with himself for not having taken yet more exact 
 precautions, and for keeping an extorted promise of si- 
 lence, which might consign so many of his party to the 
 danger of assassination. These thoughts, connected with 
 his military duties, awakened another train of reflections. 
 He bethought himself, that all he could now do, was to 
 visit the sentries, and ascertain that they were awake, 
 alert, on the watch, and so situated, that in time of need 
 they might be ready to support each other. — " This better 
 befits me," he thought, " than to be here, like a child, 
 frightening myself with the old woman's legend, which I 
 have laughed at when a lev. Whnt if old Victor Lee
 
 208 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 was a sacrilegious man, as common report goes, and 
 brewed ale in the font which he brought from the ancient 
 palace of Holyrood, while church and building were in 
 flames f And what if his eldest son was when a child 
 scalded to death in the same vessel ? How many church- 
 es have been demolished since his time ? How many 
 fonts desecrated ? So many indeed, that were the ven- 
 geance of Heaven to visit such aggressions in a super- 
 natural manner, no corner in England, no, not the most 
 petty parish church, but would have its apparition. — 
 Tush, these are idle fancies, unworthy, especially, to be 
 entertained by those educated to believe that sanctity 
 resides in the intention and the act, not in the buildings or 
 fonts, or the form of worship." 
 
 As thus he called together the articles of his Calvinistic 
 creed, the bell of the great clock (a token seldom silent 
 in such narratives) tolled three, and was immediately fol- 
 lowed by the hoarse call of the sentinels, through vault 
 and gallery, up stairs and beneath, challenging and an- 
 swering each other with the usual watchword, All's well. 
 Their voices mingled with the deep boom ot the bell, yet 
 ceased before that was silent, and when they had died 
 away, the tingling echo of the prolonged knell was scarce- 
 ly audible. Ere yet that last tingling had finally subsid- 
 ed into silence, it seemed as if it again was awakened ; 
 and Everard could hardly judge at first whether a new 
 echo had taken up the falling cadence, or whether some 
 other and separate sound was disturbing anew the silence 
 to which the deep knell had, as its voice ceased, consign- 
 ed the ancient mansion and the woods around it. 
 
 But the doubt was soon cleared up. The musical 
 tones, which had mingled with the dying echoes of the 
 knell, seemed at first to prolong, and afterwards to sur- 
 vive them. A wild strain of melody, beginning at a dis- 
 tance, and growing louder as it advanced, seemed to pass 
 from room to room, from cabinet to gallery, from hall to 
 bower, through the deserted and dishonoured ruins of the 
 ancient residence of so many sovereigns ; and, as it ap- 
 proached, no soldier gave alarm, nor did any of the nu«
 
 AVCODSTOCK. 209 
 
 jnerous guests of various degrees, who spent an unpleas- 
 ant and terrified night in that ancient mansion, seem to 
 dare to announce to each other the inexplicable cause of 
 apprehension. 
 
 Everard's excited state of mind did not permit him to 
 be so passive. The sounds approached so nigh, that it 
 seemed they were performing, in the very next apartment, 
 a solemn service for the dead, when he gave the alarm, 
 by calling loudly to his attendant and friend Wildrake, 
 who slumbered in the next chamber with only a door be- 
 twixt them, and even that ajar. 
 
 '' Wildrake— Wildrake !— Up— up ! Dost thou not 
 hear the alarm f" 
 
 There was no answer from Wildrake, though the mu- 
 sical sounds, which now rung through the apartment, as 
 if the performers had actually been within its precincts, 
 would have been sufficient to awaken a sleeping person, 
 even without the shout of his comrade and patron. 
 
 " Alarm ! — Roger Wildrake — alarm !" again called 
 Everard, getting out of bed and grasping his weapons. — 
 '' Get a light, and cry alarm." 
 
 There was no answer. His voice died away as the 
 sound of the music seemed also to die ; and the same 
 soft sweet voice, which still to his thinking resembled that 
 of Alice Lee, was heard in his apartment, and, as he 
 thought, at no distance from him. 
 
 " Your comrade will not answer," said the low soft 
 voice. *' Those only hear the alarm whose consciences 
 feel the call." 
 
 "Again this mumm.ery !" said Everard. "I am bet- 
 ter armed than I was of late ; and but for the sound of 
 that voice, the speaker had bought his tiifiing dear.V 
 
 It was singular, we may observe in passing, that the 
 instant the distinct sounds of the human voice were heard 
 by Everard, all idea of supernatural interference was at 
 an end, and the charm by which he had been formerly 
 fettered appeared to be broken ; so much is the influence 
 of imaginary or superstitious terror dependent (so far as 
 
 IS* VOL. I.
 
 210 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 respects strong judgments at least) upon what is vague 
 or ambiguous ; and so readily do distinct tones, and 
 express ideas, bring such judgments back to the current 
 of ordinary life. The voice returned answer, as address- 
 ing his thoughts as well as his words. 
 
 " We laugh at the weapons thou think'st should terrify 
 us — Over the guardians of Woodstock they have no pow- 
 er. Fire if thou wilt, and try the effect of thy weapons. 
 But know, it is not our purpose to harm thee — thou art 
 of a falcon breed, and noble in thy disposition, though, 
 unreclaimed and ill nurtured, thou hauntestwith kites and 
 carrion crows. Wing thy flight from hence on the mor- 
 row, for if thou tarriest with the bats, owls, vultures, and 
 ravens, which have thought to nestle here, thou wilt inev- 
 itably share their fate. Away then, that these halls may 
 be swept and garnished for reception of those who have 
 a better right to inhabit them." 
 
 Everard answered in a raised voice. — " Once more I 
 w-arn you, think not to defy me in vain. I am no child 
 to be frightened by goblins' tales ; and no coward armed 
 as I am, to be alarmed at the threats of banditti. If 1 
 give you a moment's indulgence, it is for the sake of dear 
 and misguided friends, who may be concerned with this 
 dangerous gambol. Know, I can bring a iroop of soldiers 
 round the castle, who will search its most inward recesses 
 for the author of this audacious frolic ; and if tliat search 
 should fail, it will cost but a few barrels of gunpowder 
 to make the mansion a heap of ruins, and bury under 
 them the authors of such an ill-judged pastime." 
 
 " You speak proudly. Sir Colonel," said another voice, 
 similar to that harsher and stronger tone by which he had 
 been addressed in the gallery ; " try your courage in 
 this direction." 
 
 " You should not dare me twice," said Colonel Eve- 
 rard, " had I a glimpse of light to take aim by." 
 
 As he spoke, a sudden gleam of light was thrown with 
 a brilliancy which almost dazzled the speaker, showing 
 distinctly a form somewhat resembling that of Victor Lee, 
 as represented in his picture, holding in the one hand a
 
 WOODSTOCK. 211 
 
 lady compl^ely veiled, and in the other his leading staff 
 or truncheon. Both figures were animated, and, as it 
 appeared, standing within six feet of him. 
 
 " Were it not for the woman," said Everard, " I would 
 not be thus mortally dared." 
 
 " Spare not for the female form, but do your worst," 
 .replied the same voice. " 1 defy you." 
 
 " Repeat your defiance when I have counted thrice," 
 said Everard, " and take the punishment of your inso- 
 lence. Once — 1 have cocked my pistol, — Twice — I 
 never missed my aim — By all that is sacred, 1 fire if you 
 do not withdraw. When I pronounce the next number, 
 I will shoot you dead where you stand. 1 am yet un- 
 willing to shed blood — I give you another chance of flight 
 — once — twice — thrice." 
 
 Everard aimed at the bosom, and discharged his pistoK 
 The figure waved its arm in an attitude of scorn ; and 
 a loud laugh arose, during which the light, as gradually 
 growing weaker, danced and glimmered upon the appa- 
 rition of the aged knight, and then disappeared. Ever- 
 ard's life-blood ran cold to his heart — " Had he been 
 of human mould," he thought, "the bullet must have 
 pierced him — and I have neither will nor power to fight 
 with supernatural beings." 
 
 The feeling of oppression was now so strong as to be 
 actually sickening. He groped his way however to the 
 fireside, and flung on the embers, which were yet gleam- 
 ing, a handful of dry fuel. It presently blazed and 
 afforded him light to see the room in every direction. He 
 looked cautiously, almost timidly, around, and half ex- 
 pected some horrible phantom to become visible. But 
 he saw nothing save the old furniture, the reading-desk 
 and other articles, which had been left in the same state 
 as when Sir Henry Lee departed. He felt an uncontrol- 
 lable desire, mingled witii much repugnance, to look at 
 the portrait of the ancient Knight, which the form he had 
 seen so strongly resembled. He hesitated betwixt the 
 opposing feelings, but at length snatched, with a desperate 
 resolution, the taper which he had extinguished, and re-
 
 212 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 lighted it, ere the blaze of the fuel had again died away. 
 He held it up to the ancient portrait of Victor Lee, and 
 gazed on it with eager curiosity, not unmingled with fear. 
 Almost the childish terrors of his earher days returned, 
 and he thought the severe pale eye of the ancient war- 
 rior followed his, and menaced him with its displeasure. 
 And although he quickly argued himself out of such an 
 absurd belief, yet the mixed feelings of his mind were 
 expressed in words that seemed half addressed to the 
 ancient portrait. 
 
 *' Soul of my mother's ancestor," he said, " be it for 
 weal or for woe, by designing men, or by supernatural 
 beings, that these ancient halls are disturbed, 1 am resolv- 
 ed to leave them on the morrow." 
 
 " I rejoice to hear it, with all my soul," said a voice be- 
 hind him. 
 
 He turned, saw a tall figure in white, with a sort of 
 turban upon its head, and dropping the candle in the 
 exertion, he instantly grappled with it. 
 
 " Thou at least art palpable," he said. 
 
 " Palpable .'^" answered he whom he grasped so 
 strongly — " 'Sdeath, melhinks you might know that with- 
 out the risk of choking me ; and if you loose me not, 
 I'll show you that two can play at the game of wrestling." 
 
 " Roger Wild rake !" said Everard, letting the cavalier 
 loose, and stepping back. 
 
 " Roger Wildrake t ay, truly. Did you take me far 
 Roger Bacon, come to help you to raise the devil ." — for 
 the place smells of sulphur consumedly." 
 
 " It is the pistol I fired — did you not hear it ?" 
 
 " Why yes, it was the first thing waked me — for that 
 night cap which I pulled on, made me sleep like a dor- 
 mouse — Pshaw, I feel my brains giddy with it yet." 
 
 " And wherefore came you not on the instant ? — 
 I never needed help more." 
 
 " I came as fast as I could," answered Wildrake ; 
 " but it was some time ere 1 s:ot my senses collected, for 
 I was dreaming of that cursed field at Naseby — and then
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 213 
 
 the door of my room was shut, and hard to open, till I 
 played the locksmith with my foot." 
 
 " How ? it was open when I went to bed," said 
 Everard. 
 
 " It was locked when I came out though," said Wild- 
 rake, " and 1 marvel you heard me not when I forced 
 it open." 
 
 *' My mind was occupied otherwise," said Everard. 
 
 'Well," said Wildrake, " but what has happened ? — 
 'Here am I bolt upright, and ready to fight, if this yawning 
 fit will give me leave — Mother Redcap's mightiest is 
 weaker than I drank last night, by a bushel to a barley- 
 corn — I have quaffed the very elixir of malt — Ha — yaw." 
 
 " And some opiate besides, I should think," said 
 Everard. 
 
 " Very like — very hke — less than the pistol-shot would 
 not waken me ; even me, who with but an ordinary 
 grace-cup sleep as lightly as a maiden on the first of 
 May, when she watches for the earliest beam to go to 
 gather dew. But what are you about to do next .^" 
 
 '* Nothing," answered Everard. 
 
 " Nothing ?" said Wildrake in surprise. 
 
 " I speak it," said Colonel Everard, " less for your 
 information, than for that of others who may hear me, 
 that \ will leave the Lodge this morning, and, if it is pos» 
 sible, remove the Commissioners." 
 
 " Hark," said Wildrake, " do you not hear some 
 noise, like the distant soimd of the applause of a theatre .'* 
 The goblins of the place rejoice in your departure." 
 
 " I shall leave Woodstock," said Everard, " to the 
 occupation of my uncle Sir Henry Lee, and his family, 
 if they choose to resume it ; not that I am frightened 
 into this as a concession to the series of artifices which 
 have been played off on this occasion, but solely because 
 such was my intention from the beginning. But let 
 me warn," (he added, raising his voice,) — " let me warn 
 the parties concerned in this combination, that though it 
 may pass off successfully on a fool like Desborough, a 
 visionary like Harrison, a coward like Bletson "
 
 214 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Here a voice distinctly spoke, as standing near them 
 — " Or a. wise, moderate, and resolute person, like Col- 
 onel Everard." 
 
 " By Heaven, the voice came from the picture," said 
 Wildrake, drawing his sword ; " I will pink his plaited 
 armour for him." 
 
 " Offer no violence," said Everard, startled at the 
 interruption, but resuming with firmness what he was 
 saying, — " Let those engaged be aware, that however this 
 string of artifices may be immediately successful, it must 
 when closely looked into, be attended with the punish- 
 ment of all concerned — the total demolition of Wood- 
 stock, and the irremediable downfall of the family of Lee. 
 Let all concerned think of this, and desist in time. 
 
 He paused, and almost expected a reply, but none 
 came. 
 
 "It is a very odd thing," said Wildrake ; "but — yaw- 
 ha — my brain cannot compass it just now ; it whirls 
 round like a toast in a bowl of muscadine ; I must sit 
 down — hew-yaw — and discuss it at leisure — Gramercyj 
 good elbow-chair." 
 
 So saying, he threw himself, or rather sank gradually 
 down, on a large easy-chair, which had been often press- 
 ed by the weight of stout Sir Henry Lee, and in an in- 
 stant was sound asleep. Everard was far from feeling 
 the same inclination for slumber, yet his mind was reliev- 
 ed of the apprehension of any farther visitation that night; 
 for he considered his treaty to evacuate Woodstock, as 
 made known to, and accepted in all probability, by those 
 whom the intrusion of the Commissioners had induced to 
 take such singular measures for expelling them. His 
 opinion, which had for a time bent towards a belief in 
 something supernatural in the disturbances, had now re- 
 turned to the more rational mode of accounting for them, 
 by dexterous combination, for which such a mansion as 
 Woodstock afforded so many facilities. 
 
 He heaped the hearth with fuel, lighted the candle, 
 and examining poor Wildrake's situation, adjusted him as 
 easily in the chair as he could, the cavalier stirring his
 
 WOODSTOCK. 215 
 
 limbs no more than an infant. His situation went far, in 
 his patron's opinion, to infer trick and confederacy, for 
 ghosts have no occasion to drug men's possets. He threw 
 himseh' on the bed, and while he thought these strange 
 circumstances over, a sweet and low strain of music stole 
 through the chamber, the words " Good night — good 
 night — good night," thrice repeated, each time in a softer 
 and more distant tone, seeming to assure him that the 
 goblins and he were at truce, if not at peace, and that he 
 had no disturbance to expect that night. He had scarce- 
 ly the courage to call out a " good night ;" for, after all 
 his conviction of the existence of a trick, it was so well 
 performed as to bring with it a feeling of fear, just like 
 what an audience feel during the performance of a tragic 
 scene, which they know to be unreal, and which yet af- 
 fects their passions by its near approach to nature. Sleep 
 overtook him at last, and left him not till broad daylight 
 on the ensuing morning. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 And yonder shines Aurora's harhineer, 
 
 At whose approach ghosts, wandering here and there, 
 
 Troop home to church-yard 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 With the fresh air, and the rising morning, every 
 feeling of the preceding night had passed away from 
 Colonel Everard's mind, excepting wonder how the ef- 
 fects he had witnessed could be produced. He examin- 
 ed the whole room, sounding bolt, floor, and wainscot, 
 with his knuckles and cane, but was unable to discern 
 any secret passages ; while the door secured by a strong 
 cross bolt, and the lock besides, remained as firm as when 
 he had fastened it on the preceding evening. The ap- 
 parition resembling Victor Lee nC^t called his attention.
 
 216 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Ridiculous stories had been often circulated, of this fig- 
 ure, or one exactly resembling it, having been met with 
 by night among the waste apartments and corridors of 
 the old palace ; and Markham Everard had often heard 
 such in his childhood. He was angry to recollect his 
 own deficiency of courage, and the thrill which he felt 
 on the preceding night, when by confederacy, doubtless, 
 such an object was placed before his eyes. 
 
 " Surely," he said, " this fit of childish folly could not 
 make me miss my aim — more likely that the bullet had 
 been withdrawn clandestinely from my pistol." 
 
 He examined that which was undischarged — he found 
 the bullet in it. He investigated the apartment opposite 
 to the point at which he had fired, and, at five feet from 
 the floor in a direct line, between the bedside and the 
 place where the appearances had been seen, a pistol-ball 
 had recently buried itself in the wainscot. He had little 
 doubt, therefore, that he had fired in a just direction ; 
 and indeed to have arrived at the place where it was 
 lodged, the bullet must have passed through the appear- 
 ance at which he aimed, and proceeded point blank to 
 the wall beyond. This was mysterious, and induced him 
 to doubt whether the art of witchcraft or conjuration had 
 not been called in to assist the machinations of those 
 daring conspirators, who, being themselves mortal, might, 
 nevertheless according to the universal creed of the times, 
 have invoked and obtained assistance from the inhabitants 
 of another world. 
 
 His next investigation respected the picture of Victor 
 Lee itself. He examined it minutely as he stood on the 
 floor before it, and compared its pale, shadowy, faintly- 
 traced outlines, its faded colours, the stern repose of the 
 eye, and deathlike pallidness of the countenance, with its 
 different aspect on the preceding night, when illuminated 
 by the artificial light which fell upon it, while it left every 
 other part of the room in coniparative darkness. The 
 features seemed to have an unnatural glow, while the rising 
 and the falling of the flame in the chimney gave the head 
 and limbs something which resembled the appearance of
 
 WOODSTOCK. 217 
 
 actual motion. Now, seen by day, it was a mere pic- 
 ture of the hard and ancient school of Holbien ; for- 
 merly, it seemed for the moment something more. De- 
 termined to get to the bottom of this contrivance if 
 possible, Everard by the assistance of a table and chair, 
 examined the portrait still more closely, and endeavoured 
 to ascertain the existence of any private spring by which 
 it might be slipt aside, — a contrivance not unfrequent in 
 ancient buildings, wiiich usually abounded with means of 
 access and escape, communicated to none but the lords 
 of the castle, or their immediate confidants. But the 
 pannel on which Victor Lee was painted was firmly fixed 
 in the wainscoting of the apartment, of which it made a 
 part, and the Colonel satisfied himself that it could not 
 have been used for the purpose which he had suspected. 
 
 He next aroused his faithful squire Wildrake, uho, 
 notwithstanding his deep share of the " blessedness of 
 sleep," bad scarce even yet got rid of the efiects of the 
 grace-cup of the preceding evening. " It was the re- 
 ward," according to his own view of the matter, " of 
 his temperance ; one single draught having made him 
 sleep more late and more sound than a matter of half-a- 
 dozen, or from thence to a dozen pulls, would have done, 
 when he was guilty of the enormity of rere-suppers,* and 
 of drinking deep after them." 
 
 "Had your temperate draught," said Everard, "been 
 but a thouiiht more stronslv seasoned, Wildrake, thou 
 hadst slept so sound that the last trump only could have 
 waked thee." 
 
 " And then," answered Wildrake, " I should have 
 waked with a headache, Mark ; for I see my modest sip 
 has not exempted me from that epilogue. — But let us go 
 forth and see how the night, which we have passed so 
 
 * Rere-siippers (qvasi anriere) h«»long^ed to a species of luxury introduced in 
 the jolly Havsof Kins: James's extra vnsranoe. and continued through the >;iib- 
 !»equem reisrn. The supper took place at an early hour, si.x or seven o'cl<>( k at 
 latest — ihe^rere-supper was a postliminary banquet, a hors iVacurre, which 
 made its appearance at ten or eleven, aud sened as an apology for prolongiug 
 »he enU'rtainnient till midnight 
 19 VOL. I.
 
 218 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 strangely, has been spent by the rest of them. T suspect 
 they are all right willing to evacute Woodstock, unless 
 they have either rested better than we, or at least been 
 more lucky in lodgings." 
 
 " In that case, 1 will despatch thee down to Joceline's 
 hut, to negotiate the re-entrance of Sir Henry Lee and 
 his family into their old apartments, where, my interest 
 with the General being joined with the indifferent lepute 
 of the place itself, I think they have little chance of being 
 disturbed either by the present, or by any new Conjmis- 
 sioners." 
 
 " But how are they to defend themselves against the 
 fiends, my gallant Colonel ?" said Wildrake. " Me- 
 thinks, had I an interest in yonder pretty girl, such as 
 thou dost boast, 1 should be loath to expose her to the 
 terrors of a residence at Woodstock, where these devils 
 — 1 beg their pardon, for 1 suppose they hear every word 
 we say — these merry goblins — make such gay work from 
 twilight till morning." 
 
 " My dear Wildrake," said the Colonel, " I, as well 
 as you, believe it possible that our speech may be over- 
 heard ; but I care not, and will speak my mind plainly. 
 1 trust Sir Henry and Alice are not engaged in this silly 
 plot ; I cannot reconcile it with the pride of the one, the 
 modesty of the other, or the good sense of both, that any 
 motive could engage them in so strange a conjunction. 
 But the fiends are all of your own political persuasion, 
 Wildrake, all true-blue cavaliers ; and 1 am convinced, 
 that Sir Henry and Alice Lee, though they be unconnect- 
 ed with them, have not the slightest cause to be appre- 
 hensive of their goblin machinations. Besides, Sir 
 Henry and Joceline must know every corner about the 
 place : it will be far more difficult to play off any ghostly 
 machinery upon him than upon strangers. But let us 
 to our toilette, and when water and brush has done its 
 work, we will inquire what is next to be done." 
 
 " Nay, that wretched puritan's garb of mine is hardly 
 worth brushing," said Wildrake ; " and but for this hun- 
 dred weight of rusty iron, with which thou liast bedizened
 
 WOODSTOCK. 219 
 
 me, I look more like a bankrupt Quaker than anything 
 else. But I'll make z/ow as spruce as ever was a canting 
 rogue of your party." 
 
 So saying, and humming at the same time the cavalier 
 lune, — 
 
 Though for a time we see Whitehall, 
 With cobwebs hung around the wall, 
 Yet Heaven shall make amends for all, 
 
 When the King shall enjoy his own again, 
 
 '*Thou forgettest who are without," said Colonel 
 Everard. 
 
 " No — I remember who are within," replied his friend. 
 *' I only sing to n)y merry goblins, who will like me all 
 the better for it. Tush, man, the devils are my bonos 
 socios, and when I see l!iem, 1 will warrant they prove 
 such roarins; boys as I knew when 1 served under Lum- 
 ford and Goring, fellows with long nails that nothing es- 
 caped, bottomless stomachs that nothing filled, — mad for 
 pillaging, ranting, drinking, and fighting, — sleeping rough 
 on the trenches, and dying stubbornly in their boots. 
 Ah ! these merry days are gone. Well, it is the fashion 
 to make a grave face on't among cavaliers, and especially 
 the parsons that have lost their tithe-pigs ; but 1 was fitted 
 for the element of the time, and never did or can desire 
 merrier days than T had during that same barbarous, 
 bloody, and unnatural rebellion." 
 
 '* Thou wert ever a wild sea-bird, Roger, even accord- 
 ing to your name ; likins: the gale better than the calm, 
 the boisterous ocean better than the smooth lake, and 
 your rough, wild struggle against the wind, than daily food, 
 ease, and quiet." 
 
 " Pshaw ! a fig for your smooth lake, and your old 
 woman to feed me with brewer's grains, and the poor 
 drake obliged to come swattering whenever she whistles ! 
 Everard, I like to feel the wind rustle against my pinions, 
 — now diving, now on the crest of the wave, now in ocean, 
 now in sky — that is the wild drake's joy, my grave one ! 
 And in the Civil War so it u ent with us — down in one
 
 220 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 county, up in another, beaten lo-day, victorious to-mor- 
 row — now starving in some barren leaguer — now revel- 
 ling in a Presbyterian's pantry — his cellars, his plate- 
 chest, his old judicial thumb-ring, his pretty serving- 
 wench, all at command !" 
 
 " Hush, friend," said Everard ; " remember I hold 
 that persuasion." 
 
 " xMore the pity, Mark, more the pity," said Wildrake ; 
 "but, as you say, it is needless talking of it. Let us 
 e'en go and see how your Presbyterian pastor, Mr. Hold- 
 enough, has fared, and whether he has proved more able 
 to foil the foul Fiend than have you his disciple and 
 auditor." 
 
 They left the apartment accordingly, and were over- 
 whelmed with the various incoherent accounts of senti- 
 Dels and others, all of whom had seen or heard something 
 extraordinary in the course of the night. It is needless 
 to describe particularly the various rumours which each 
 contributed to the common stock, with the greater alac- 
 rity that in such cases their seems always to be a sort of 
 disgrace in not having seen or suffered as much as others. 
 
 The most moderate of the narrators only talked of 
 sounds like the mewing of a cat, or the growling of a dog, 
 especially the squeaking of a pig. They heard also as 
 if it had been nails driven and saws used, and the clash- 
 ing of fetters, and the rustling of silk gowsus, and the 
 notes of nmsic, and in short all sorts of sound which 
 have nothing to do with each other. Others swore they 
 had smelt savours of various kinds, chiefly bituminous, 
 indicating a Satanic derivation ; others did not indeed 
 swear, but protested, to visions of men in armours, horses 
 without heads, asses with horns, and cows with six legs, 
 not to mention black figures, whose cloven hoofs gave 
 plain information what realm they belonged to. 
 
 But these strongly-attested cases of nocturnal disturb- 
 ances among the sentinels had- been so general, as to 
 prevent alarm and succour on any particular point, so 
 that those who were on duty called in vain on the corps- 
 de-garde, who were tremblins: on their own post ; and ai*
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 22i 
 
 alert enemy might have done complete execution on the 
 whole garrison. But amid this general alert, no violence 
 appeared to be meant, and annoyance, not injury, seem- 
 ed to have been the goblin's object, excepting in the case 
 of one poor fellow, a trooper, who had followed Harrison 
 in half his battles, and now was sentinel in that very ves- 
 tibule upon which Everard had recommended them to 
 mount a guard. He had presented his carabine at some- 
 thing which came suddenly upon him, when it was wrested 
 out of his hands, and he himself knocked down with the 
 butt-end of it. His broken head, and the drenched bed- 
 ding of Desborough, upon whom a tub of ditch-water 
 had been emptied during his sleep, were the only pieces 
 of real evidence to attest the disturbances of the night. 
 The reports from Harrison's apartment were as deliv- 
 ered by Master Tomkins, that truly the General had 
 passed the night undisturbed, though there was still upon 
 him a deep sleep, and a folding of the hands to slumber, 
 from which Everard arsrued that the machinators had 
 
 o 
 
 esteemed Harrison's part of the reckoning sufficiently 
 paid off on the preceding evening. 
 
 He then proceeded to the apartment doubjy garrisoned 
 by the worshipful Desborough, and the philosophical 
 Bletson. They were both up and dressing themselves, 
 the former open-mouthed in his feelings of fear and 
 suffering. Indeed, no sooner had Everard entered, than 
 the ducked and dismayed Colonel made a dismal com- 
 plaint of the way he had spent the night, and murmured 
 not a little against his worshipful kinsman, for imposing 
 a task upon him which inferred so much annoyance. 
 
 " Could not his Excellency, my kinsman Noll," he 
 said, " have given his poor relative and brother-in-law 
 a sop somewhere else, than out of this Woodstock, which 
 seems to be the devil's ovai porridge-pot f 1 cannot sup 
 broth with the Devil ; I have no long spoon — not I. 
 Could he not liave qunrtered me in some quiet corner, 
 and given this haunted ph:ce to seme of his pie-achers 
 and pravers, who know the Bible as well as the muster- 
 
 19* VOL. I.
 
 222 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 roll ? whereas I know the four hoofs of a clean-going 
 nag, or the points of a team of oxen, better than all the 
 books of Moses. But I will give it over, at once and for 
 ever ; hopes of earthly gain shall never make me run the 
 risk of being carried away bodily by the devil, besides 
 being set upon my head one whole night and soused with 
 ditch-water the next — No, no — 1 am too w^ise for that." 
 
 Master Bletson had a different part to act. He com- 
 plained of no personal annoyances; on the contrary, de- 
 clared he should have slept as well as ever he did in his 
 life, but for the abominable disturbances around him, of 
 men calling to arms every half hour, when so much as a 
 cat trotted by one of their posts — He would rather, he 
 said, " have slept among a whole Sabbath of witches, if 
 such creatures could be found." 
 
 " Then you think there are no such things as appari- 
 tions, Master Bletson ?" said Everard. " 1 used to be 
 sceptical on the subject ; but on my life, to-night has 
 been a strange one." 
 
 " Dreams, dreams, dreams, my simple Colonel," said 
 Bletson, though his pale face, and shaking limbs, belied 
 the assumed courage with which he spoke. " Old 
 Chaucer, sir, hath told us the real moral on't — He was 
 an old frequenter of the forest of Woodstock, here " 
 
 " Chaser ?" said Desborough ; " some huntsman be-» 
 like, by his name — Does he walk, like Hearne at Wind- 
 sor r 
 
 " Chaucer," said Bletson, " my dear Desborough, is 
 one of those wonderful fellows, as Colonel Everard 
 knows, who live many a hundred years after they are 
 buried, and whose words haunt our ears after their bones 
 are long mouldered in the dust." 
 
 "Ay, ay ! well — I for one desire his room rather than 
 his company — one of your conjurors, I warrant him. 
 But what says he to the matter.^" 
 
 " Only a slight spell, which I will take the freedom to 
 repeat to Colonel Everard," said Bletson; "but which 
 would be as bad as Greek to thee, Desborough. — Old
 
 WOODSTOCK. 223 
 
 Geoffrey lays the whole blame of our nocturnal distur- 
 bance on superfluity of humours, 
 
 ' Which causen folk to dred in their dreams 
 Of arrowes, and of lire with red gleams, 
 Right as the humour of Melancholy 
 Causeth many a man in sleep to cry 
 For fear of great bulls and bears black,- 
 And others that black devils will them take.' " 
 
 While he was thus declaiming;, Everard observed a 
 book sticking out from beneath the pillow of the bed 
 lately occupied by the honourable member. 
 
 "Is that Chaucer.^" he said, making to the volume 
 — " I would like to look at the passage " 
 
 " Chaucer — " said Bletson, hastening to interfere ; 
 " no — that is Lucretius, my darling Lucretius. I cannot 
 let you see it — I have some private marks." 
 
 'But by this time Everard had the book in his hand. 
 " Lucretius !" he said ; " no, blaster Bletson — this is 
 not Lucretius, but a fitter comforter in dread or in dan- 
 ger — Why should you be ashamed of it f — Only, Blet- 
 son, instead of resting your head, if you can but anchor 
 your heart upon this voluine, it may serve you in better 
 stead than Lucretius or Chaucer either." 
 
 " Why, w^hat book is it f" said Bletson, his pale cheek 
 colouring with the shame of detection. — " Oh, the Bi- 
 ble," throwing it down contemptuously — " some book of 
 my fellow Gibeon's — these Jews have been always super- 
 stitious — ever since Juvenal's time, thou knowest — 
 
 ' Qualiacunque voles Jud^ei somnia vendunt.' 
 
 He left me the old book for a spell, I warrant you, for 'tis 
 a w^ell meaning fool." 
 
 " He would scarce have left the New Testament, as 
 well as the old," said Everard. " Come, my dear Blet- 
 son, do not be ashamed of the wisest thing you ever did 
 in your life, supposing you took your Bible in an hour of 
 apprehension, wiih a view to profit by the contents."
 
 224 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Bletson's vanity was so much galled, that it overcame 
 his constitutional cowardice. His little thin fingers quiv- 
 ered for eagerness, his neck and cheeks were as red as 
 scarlet, and his articulation was as thick and vehement as 
 — in short, as if he had been no philosopher. 
 
 *' Master Everard," he said, " you are a man of the 
 sword, sir — and, sir, you seem to suppose yourself enti- 
 tled to say whatever comes into your mind with respect 
 to civilians, sir — But I would have you remember, sir, 
 that there are bounds beyond Vvhich human patience may 
 be urged, sir, — and jests which no man of honour will 
 endure, sir, — and, therefore, I expect an apology for 
 your present language. Colonel Everard, and this unman- 
 nerly jesting, sir — or you may chance to hear from me 
 in a way that will not please you." 
 
 Everard could not help smiling at this explosion of 
 valour, eno:endered bv irritated self-love. 
 
 " Look you, IMiister Bletson," he said, *' I have been 
 a soldier, that is true, but I vvas never a bloody-minded 
 one ; and as a Christian, I am unwilling to enlarge the 
 kingdom of darkness by sending a new vassal thither be- 
 fore his time. If Heaven gives you time to repent, I see 
 no reason why my hand should deprive you of it, which, 
 were we to have a rencounter, would be your fate in the 
 thrust of a sword, or the pullins; of a trigger — 1 therefore 
 prefer to apologize ; and i call Desborough, if he has 
 recovered his vv?ils, to boar evi^ipnce that I do apologize 
 for having suspected yon, who are completely the sl^ve 
 of your own vanity, of any tendency, however slight, 
 towards grace or good sense. And I farther apologize 
 for the time I hav€ wasted in endeavouring to wash an 
 Ethiopian white, or in recommending rational inquiry to 
 a self-willed atheist." 
 
 Bletson, overjoyed at the turn the matter had taken — 
 for the defiance was scarce out of his mouth ere he 
 began to trembje for the consequences — answered with 
 great eagerness and civility of manner, — " Nay, dearest 
 Colonel, say no more of it — an apolosy is all that is 
 necessary among men of honour — it neither leaves dis-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 225 
 
 honour with him who asks it, nor infers degradation on 
 him who makes it." 
 
 " Not such an apology as I have made, I trust," said 
 the Colonel. 
 
 " No, no — not in the least — one apology serves me 
 just as well as another, and Desborough will bear wit- 
 ness you have made one, and that is all there can be 
 said on the subject." 
 
 " Master Desborough and you will take care how the 
 matter is reported, i dare say, and I only recommend to 
 both, that, if mentioned at all, it may be told correctly." 
 
 " Nay, nay, we will not mention it at all," said Blet- 
 son, *' we will forget it from this moment. Only, never 
 suppose me capable of superstitious weakness. Had 1 
 been afraid of an apparent and real danger — why such 
 fear is natural to man — and 1 will not deny that the mood 
 of mind may have happened to ine as well as to others. 
 But to he thought capable of resorting to spells, and 
 sleeping with books under my pillow to secure myself 
 against ghosts, on my word, it was enough to provoke 
 one to quarrel, for the moment, with his very best friend. 
 — And now, Colonel, what is to be done, and how is 
 our duty to \>e executed at this accursed place .** If I 
 should get such a wetting as Desborough's, why I should 
 die of catarrh, though you see it hurts him no more than 
 a bucket of water thrown over a post-horse. You are, 
 I presume, a brother in our commission, how are you of 
 opinion we should proceed ?" 
 
 '• Why, in good time here comes Harrison," said 
 Everard, " and I will lay my commission from the Lord 
 General before you all ; which, as you see. Colonel Des- 
 borough, commands you to desist fr^ acting on your 
 present authority, and intimates his pleasure accordingly, 
 that you withdraw from this place." 
 
 Desborough took the paper and examined the signa- 
 ture. — " It is Noll's signature, sure enough " said he, 
 
 dropping his under jaw ; "only, every time of late he 
 has made the Oliver as large as a giant, while the Crom- 
 well creeps after like a dwarf, as if the surname were
 
 226 
 
 >VOODSTOCK. 
 
 like to disappear one of these days altogether. But is 
 his Excellency, our kinsman, Noll Cromwell (since he 
 has the surname yet,) so unreasonable as to think his 
 relations and friends are to be set upon their heads till 
 they have the crick in their neck — drenched as if they 
 had been plunged in a horse-pond — frightened, day and 
 night, by all sorts of devils, witches, and fairies, and get 
 not a penny of smart money ? Adzooks, (forgive me for 
 swearing.) if that's the case 1 had belter home to. my 
 farm, and mind team and herd, than dangle after such 
 a thankless person, though I have wived his sister. She 
 was poor enough when 1 took her, for as high as Noll 
 holds his head now." 
 
 "It is not my purpose," said Bletson, "to stir debate 
 in this honourable meeting ; and no one will doubt the 
 veneration and attachment which 1 bear to our noble 
 General, whom the current of events, and his own match- 
 less qualities of courage and constancy, have raised so 
 high in these deplorable days. — If I were to term him 
 a direct and immediate emanation of the Animus Mundi 
 itself — something which Nature had produced in her 
 proudest hour, while exerting herself, as is her law, for 
 the preservation of the creatures to whom she has given 
 existence — I should scarce exhaust the ideas which I en- 
 tertain of him. Always protesting, that I am by no 
 means to be held as adjnitting, but merely as granting 
 for the sake of tirgument, the possible existence of that 
 species of emanation, or exhalation, from the Animus 
 Mundi, of which I have made mention. 1 appeal to 
 you. Colonel Desborough, who are his Excellency's re- 
 lation — to you. Colonel Everard, who hold the dearer 
 title of liis friend, whether I have overrated my zeal in 
 his behalf." 
 
 Everard bowed at this pause, but Desborough gave a 
 more complete authentication. " Nay, I can bear wit- 
 ness to that. I have seen when you were willing to tie 
 his points or brush his cloak, or the like — and to be 
 treftted thus ungratefully — and gudgeoned of the oppor- 
 tunities which had been given you "
 
 >VOOD STOCK. 
 
 227 
 
 ** It is not for that," said Bletson, waving liis hand 
 gracelully. " You do me wrong, Master Desboiough — 
 you do indeed, kind sir — although 1 know you niea-it it 
 not — No, sir — no partial consideration of private interest 
 prevailed on me to undertake this charge. Jtwas con- 
 ferred on me by the Parliament of England, in uhose 
 name this war commenced, and by the Council of State, 
 who are the conservators of England's liberty. And the 
 chance and serene hope of serving the country, the con- 
 fidence that 1 — and you, JMaster Desborough — and you, 
 worthy General Harrion — superior, as 1 am, to all selfish 
 considerations — to which I am sure you also, good Colonel 
 Everard, would be superior, had you been named in this 
 Commission, as 1 would to Heaven you had — 1 say, the 
 hope of serving the country, with the aid of such re- 
 spectable associates, one and all of them — as well as you, 
 Colonel Everard, supposing you to have been of the 
 number, induced me to accept of this opportunity, where- 
 by I might, gratuitously, with your assistance, render so 
 much advantage to our dear mother the Commonwealth 
 of England. — Such was my hope — my trust — my confi- 
 dence. And now comes my Lord General's warrant to 
 dissolve the authority by which we are entided to act. 
 Gentlemen, I ask this honourable meeting, (with all re- 
 spect to his Excellency,) whether his Commission be 
 paramount to that from which he himself directly holds 
 his commission ^ No one will say so. I ask whether he 
 has climbed into the seat from which the late Man de- 
 scended, or hath a great seal, or means to proceed by 
 prerogative in such a case ? I cannot see reason to be- 
 lieve it, and therefore 1 must resist such doctrine. I am 
 in your judgment, my brave and honourable colleagues ; 
 but, touching my own poor opinion, I feel myself under 
 the unhappy necessity of proceeding in our commission, 
 as if the interruption had not taken place ; with this addi- 
 tion, that the Board of Sequestrators should sit, by day, 
 at this same Lodge of Woodstock, but that, to reconcile 
 the minds of weak brethren, who may be afflicted by 
 superstitious rumours, as well as to avoid any practice on
 
 228 AVOOD STOCK. 
 
 our persons by malignants, who, I am convinced, are busy 
 in tliis neighbourhood, we should remove our sittings after 
 sunset to the George Inn, in the neighbouring borough." 
 
 " Good xMaster Bletson," rephed Colonel Everard, 
 " it is not for me to reply to you ; but you may know in 
 what characters this army of England and their General 
 write their authority. I fear me the annotation on this 
 precept of the General, will be expressed by the march 
 of a troop of horse from Oxford to see it executed. I 
 believe there are orders out for that effect ; and you 
 know by late experience, that the soldier will obey his 
 General equally against King and Parliament." 
 
 " That obedience is conditional," said Harrison, start- 
 ing fiercely up. " Know'st thou not, Markham Everard, 
 that 1 have followed the man Cromwell as close as the 
 bull-dog follows his master ? — and so I will yet ; — but I 
 am no spaniel, either to be beaten, or to have the food I 
 have earned snatched from me, as if 1 w^ere a vile cur, 
 whose wages are a whippino;, and free leave to wear ray 
 own skin. I looked, amongst the three of us, that we 
 might honestly, and piously, and with advantage to the 
 Commonw^ealth, have gained out of this commission 
 three, or it may be fiv^e thousand pounds. And does 
 Cromwell imagine I will part with it for a rough word ^ 
 No man goeth a warfare on his own charges. He that 
 serves the altar must live by the altar — and the saints 
 must have means to })rovide them with good harness and 
 fresh horses against the unsealing and the pouring forth. 
 Does Cromwell think I am so much of a tame tiger as 
 to permit him to rend from me at pleasure the miserable 
 dole he hath thrown me ? Of a surety T will resist ; and 
 the men who are here, being chiefly of my own regiment 
 — men who wait, and who expect, with lamps burning 
 and loins girded, and each one his weapon bound upon 
 his thigh, will aid me to make this house good against 
 every assault — ay, even against Cromwell himself, until 
 the latter coming — Selah ! Selah ! "
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 229 
 
 " And I," said Desborougb, " will levy troops and 
 protect your out-quarters, not choosing at present to close 
 myself up in a garrison " 
 
 "And 1," said Bletson, "will do my part, and hie 
 me to town and lay the matter before Parliament, arising 
 in my place for that effect." 
 
 Everard was little moved by all these threats. The 
 only formidable one, indeed, was that of Harrison, whose 
 enthusiasm, joined vviih his courage, and obstinacy, and 
 character among the fanatics of his own principles, made 
 him a dangerous enemy. Before trying any arguments 
 with the refractory ]\Jajor-General, Everard endeavoured 
 to moderate his feelings, and threw something in about 
 the late disturbances. 
 
 " Talk not to me of supernatural disturbances, young 
 man — talk not to me of enemies in the body or out of the 
 body. Am I not the champion chosen and commission- 
 ed to encounter and to conquer the great Dragon, and 
 the beast which cometh out of the sea ? Am 1 not to com- 
 mand the left wing, and two regiments of the centre, when 
 the Saints shall encounter with the countless legions of 
 Gog and IMagog ? I tell thee that my name is written on 
 the sea of glass mingled with fire, and that I will keep 
 this place of Woodstock against all mortal men, and 
 against all devils, whether in field or chamber, in the 
 forest or in the meadow, even till the Saints reign in the 
 fullness of their glory." 
 
 Everard saw it was then time to produce two or three 
 lines under Cromwell's hand, which he had received from 
 the General, subsequently to the communication through 
 Wildrake. The information they contained calculated to 
 allay the disappointment of the Commissioners. This 
 document assigned as the reason of superseding the 
 Woodstock Commission, that he should probably propose 
 to the Parliament to require the assistance of General 
 Harrison, Colonel Desborouj^h, and Master Bletson, the 
 honourable member for Littlefaith, in a much greater 
 matter, namely, the disposing of the royal property, and 
 20 VOL. I.
 
 230 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 disparking of the King's forest at Windsor. So soon as 
 this idea was started all parties pricked up their ears, and 
 their drooping, and gloomy, and vindictive looks began to 
 give place to courteous smiles, and to a cheerfulness, 
 which laughed in their eyes, and turned their moustaclies 
 upwards. 
 
 Colonel Desborough acquitted his right honourable 
 and excellent cousin and kinsman of all species of un- 
 kindness ; Master Bletson discovered, that the interest of 
 the state was trebly concerned in the good administration 
 of Windsor, more than in that of Woodstock. As for 
 Harrison, he exclaimed, without disguise or hesitation, 
 that the gleaning of the grapes of Windsor was better 
 than the vintage of Woodstock. Thus speaking, the 
 glance of his dark eye expressed as much triumph in 
 the proposed earthly advantage, as if it had not been ac- 
 cording to his vain persuasion, to be shortly exchanged for 
 his share in the general reign of the Millenium. His 
 delight, in short, resembled the joy of an eagle, who 
 preys upon a lamb in the evening with not the less-relish, 
 because she descries a hundred thousand men about to 
 join battle with day-break, and to give her an endless 
 feast on the hearts and life-blood of the valiant. 
 
 Yet though all agreed that they would be obedient to 
 the General's pleasure in this matter, Bletson proposed, 
 as a precautionary measure, in which all agreed, that 
 they should take up their abode for some time in the town 
 of Woodstock, to wait for their new commissions re- 
 specting Windsor ; and this upon the prudential consid- 
 eration, that it was best not to slip one knot until another 
 was first tied. 
 
 Each commissioner, therefore, wrote to Oliver indi- 
 vidually, stating, in his own way, the depth and height, 
 length and breadth, of his attachment to him. Each ex- 
 pressed himself resolved to obey the General's injunctions 
 to the uttermost ; but with the same scrupulous devotion 
 to the Parliament, each found himself at a loss how to 
 lay down the commission intrusted to them by that body, 
 and therefore felt bound in conscience to take up his res-
 
 WOODSTOCK. 231 
 
 idence at the borough of Woodstock, that he might not 
 seem to abandon the charge committed to them, until 
 they should be called to administrate the weightier n^atter 
 of Windsor, to which they expressed their willingness 
 instantly to devote themselves, according to his Excel- 
 lency's pleasure. 
 
 This was the general style of their letters, varied by 
 the characteristic flourishes of the writers. Desborough, 
 for example, said something about die religious duty of 
 providing for one's own household, only he blundered the 
 text. Bletson wrote long and big words about the polit- 
 ical obligation incumbent on every niember of ihe com- 
 munity, on every person, to sacrifice his time and talents 
 to the service of his country ; while Harrison talked of 
 the littleness of present affairs, in comparison of the ap- 
 proaching tremendous change of all ihings beneath the 
 sun. But altl)ough the garnishing of the various epistles 
 was different, the result came to the same, that they 
 were determined at least to keep sight of Woodstock 
 until they were well assured of some better and more 
 profitable conjmission. 
 
 Everard also wrote a letter in the most grateful terms to 
 Cromwell, which would probably have been less warm 
 had he known more distinctly than his follower chose to 
 tell him, the expectation under which the wily General 
 had granted his request. He acquainted his Excellency 
 with his purpose of continuing at Woodstock, partly to 
 assure himself of the motions of the three Commission- 
 ers, and to watch whether they did not again enter'upoii 
 execution of the trust, which they had for the present 
 renounced, — and partly to see that some extraordinary 
 circumstances, which had taken place in the Lodge, and 
 which would doubtless transpire, were not followed by any 
 explosion to the disturbance of the public peace. He 
 knew (as he expressed himself) that his Excellency was 
 so much the friend of order, that he would rather dis- 
 turbances or insurrections were prevented than punished ; 
 and he conjured the General to repose confidence in his 
 exertions for the public service by every mode within his 
 1^
 
 232 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 power ; not aware^ it will be observed, in what sense his 
 general pledge might be interpreted. 
 
 These letters being made up into a packet, were for- 
 warded to Windsor by a trooper, detached on that errand. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 We do that in our zeal, 
 
 Our calmer moments are afraid to answer. 
 
 Anomjmous. 
 
 While the Commissioners were preparing to remove 
 themselves from the Lodge to the inn at the borough of 
 Woodstock, with all that state and bustle which attend 
 the movements of great persons, and especially of such 
 to whoQi greatness is not entirely familiar, Everard held 
 some colloquy with the Presbyterian clergyman. Master 
 Holdenough, who had issued from the apartment which 
 he had occupied, as it were in defiance of the spirits by 
 whom the mansion was supposed to be disturbed, and 
 w^hose pale cheek, and pensive brow, gave token that he 
 had not passed the night more comfortably than the other 
 inmates of the Lodge of Woodstock. Colonel Everard 
 having offered to procure the reverend gentleman some 
 refreshment, received this reply : — "This day shall I not 
 taste food, saving that which we are assured of as suffi- 
 cient for our sustenance, where it is promised that our 
 bread shall be given us and our water shall be sure. Not 
 that 1 fast, in the papistical opinion that it adds to those 
 merits, which are but an accumulation of filthy rags ; 
 but because I hold it needful that no grosser sustenance 
 should this day cloud my understanding, or render less 
 pure and vivid the thanks I owe to Heaven for a most 
 ^vonderful preservation."
 
 "WOODSTOCK. 2oS 
 
 " ^Master Holdenough," said Everard, " you are, I 
 know, both a good man and a bold one, and 1 saw you 
 last night courageously go upon your sacred duty, when 
 soldiers, and tried ones, seemed considerably alarmed." 
 
 *' Too courageous — too venturous," was INlaster Hold- 
 enough's reply, the boldness of whose aspect seemed 
 completely to have died away. " We are frail crea- 
 tures. Master Everard, and frailest then when we think 
 ourselves strongest. Oh, Colonel Everard," he added, 
 after a pause, and as if the confidence was partly involun- 
 tary, *' 1 have seen that which I shall never survive 
 
 »" 
 
 '/ ' 
 
 " You surprise me, reverend sir," said Everard ;< — 
 " may I request you will speak more plainly ? I have 
 heard some stories of this wild night, nay, have witness- 
 ed strange things myself ; but, methinks, 1 would be 
 much interested in knowing the nature of your disturb^ 
 ance." 
 
 " Sir," said the clergyman, " you are a discreet gen- 
 tleman ; and though I would not willingly that these her- 
 etics, schismatics, Brownists, ?>Iuggletonians, Anabaptists, 
 and so forth, had such an opportunity of triumph, as my 
 defeat in this matter would have afforded them, yet with 
 you, who have been ever a faithful follower of our church, 
 and are pledged to the good cause by the great National 
 League and Covenant, surely I would be more open. 
 Sit we down, therefore, and let me call for a glass of 
 pure water, for as yet 1 feel some bodily faltering ; 
 though, I thank Heaven, I am in mind resolute and com- 
 posed as a merely mortal man may after such a vision. 
 — They say, worthy Colonel, that looking on such things 
 foretells, or causes, speedy death — I know not if it be 
 true ; but if so, I only depart like the tired sentinel when 
 his officer releases him from his post ; ar.d glad shall I 
 be to close these wearied eyes against the sight, and shut 
 these harassed ears against the croaking, as of frogs, of 
 Antinomians, and Pelacrians, and Socininns, and Aimin- 
 ians, and Arians, and Nullifidians, which have come up 
 20- VOL I.
 
 234 AVOOD STOCK. 
 
 into our England, like those filthy reptiles into the house 
 of Pharaoh." 
 
 Here one of the servants who had been summoned, 
 entered with a cup of water, gazing at the same time in 
 the face of the clergyman, as if his stupid grey eyes were 
 endeavouring to read what tragic tale was written on his 
 brow ; and shaking his empty scull as he left the room, 
 with the air of one who was proud of having discovered 
 that all was not exactly right, though he could not so well 
 guess what it was that was w^rong. 
 
 Colonel Everard invited the good man to take some 
 refreshment more genial than the pure element, but he 
 declined : " I am in some sort a champion," he said ; 
 " and though I have been foiled in the late controversy 
 with the Enemy, still I have my trumpet to give the 
 alarm, and my sharp sword to smite withal ; therefore, 
 like the Nazarites of old, I will eat nothing that cometh 
 of the vine, neither drink wine nor strong drink, until 
 these my days of combat shall have passed away." 
 
 Kindly and respectfully the Colonel anew pressed 
 Master Holdenough to communicate the events that had 
 befallen him on the preceding night ; and the good cler- 
 gyman proceeded as follows, with that little characteris- 
 tical touch of vanity in his narrative, which naturally arose 
 out of the part he had played in the world, and the influ- 
 ence which he had exercised over the minds of others. 
 "I was a young man at the University of Cambridge," he 
 said, " when I was particularly bound in friendship to 
 a fellow-student, perhaps because we w^ere esteemed 
 (though it is vain to mention it) the most hopeful scholars 
 at our college ; and so equally advanced, that it was dif- 
 ficult, perhaps, to say which was the greater proficient in 
 his studies. Only our tutor, Master Purefoy, used to 
 say, that if my comrade had the advantage of me in 
 gifts, 1 had the better of him in grace ; for he was attach- 
 ed to the profane learning of the classics, always unpro- 
 fitable, often impious and impure ; and I had light enough 
 to turn my studies unto the sacred tongues. Also we 
 differed in our opinions touching the Church of pngland. 
 
 \
 
 WOODSTOCK. 235 
 
 for he held Arminian opinions, with Laud, and those 
 who would connect our ecclesiastical establishment with 
 the civil, and make the Church dependent on the breath 
 of an earthly man. In fine, he favoured Prelacy both 
 in essentials and ceremonials ; and although we parted 
 whh tears and embraces, it was to follow very different 
 courses. He obtained a living, and became a great con- 
 troversial writer in behalf of the Bishops and of the 
 Court. I also, as is well known to you, to the best of 
 my poor abilities, sharpened my pen in the cause of the 
 poor oppressed people, whose tender consciences reject- 
 ed the rites and ceremonies more befitting a papistical 
 than a reformed Church, and which, according to the 
 blinded pohcy of the Court, were enforced by pains and 
 penalties. Then came the Civil War, and I — called 
 thereunto by my conscience, and nothing fearing or sus- 
 pecting what miserable consequences have chanced, 
 through the rise of these Independents — consented to 
 lend my countenance and labour to the great work, by 
 becoming chaplain to Colonel Harrison's regiment. Not 
 that I mingled with carnal weapons in the field — which 
 Heaven defend that a minister of the altar should — but I 
 preached, exhorted, and, in time of need, was a surgeon, 
 as well to the wounds of the body as of the soul. Now, 
 it fell towards the end of the war, that a party of malig- 
 nants had seized on a strong house in the shire of Shrews- 
 bury, situated on a small island, advanced into a lake, 
 and accessible only by a small and narrow causeway. 
 From thence they made excursions, and vexed the coun- 
 try ; and high time it was to suppress them, so that a 
 part of our regiment went to reduce them ; and I was 
 requested to go, for they were few in number to take in 
 so strong a place, and the Colonel judged that ray exhor- 
 tations would make them do valiantly. And so, con- 
 trary to my wont, I went forth with them, even to the 
 field, where there w^as valiant fighting on both sides. 
 Nevertheless the malignants shooting their wall-pieces at 
 us, had so much the advantage, that, after bursting their 
 gates with a salvo of our cannon, Colonel Harrison order-
 
 236 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ed his men to advance on the causeway, and try to carry 
 the place by storm. Natheless, ahhough our men did 
 vahantly, advancing in good order, yet being galled on 
 every side by the fire, they at length fell into disorder, 
 and were retreating with much loss, Harrison himself 
 valiantly bringing up the rear, and defending them as he 
 could against the enemy, who sallied forth in pursuit of 
 them, to smite them hip and thigh. Now, Colonel Eve- 
 rard, I am a man of quick and vehement temper by 
 nature, though better teaching than the old law hath made 
 me mild and patient as you now see me. I could not 
 bear to see our Israelites flying before the Philistines, 
 so 1 rushed upon the causeway, with the Bible in one hand 
 and a halberd, which 1 had caught up, in the other, and 
 turned back the foremost fugitives, by threatening to 
 strike them down, pointing out to them at the same time 
 a priest in his cassock, as they call it, who was among 
 the malignants, and asking them whether the}^ would not 
 do as much for a true servant of Heaven, as the uncir- 
 cumcised would for a priest of Baal. My v/ords and 
 strokes prevailed ; they turned at once, and shouting out, 
 Down with Baal and his worshippers ! they charged the 
 malignants so unexpectedly home, that they not only 
 drove them back into their house of garrison, but enter- 
 ed it with them, as the phrase is, pell mell. J also was 
 there, partly hurried on by the crou'd, partly to prevail 
 on our enraged soldiers to give quarter ; for it grieved 
 my heart to see Christians and Englishmen haslied down 
 with swords and gunstocks, like curs in the street, when 
 there is an alarm of mad-dogs. In this way, the soldiers 
 fighting and slaughtering, and I calling upon them to 
 stay their hand, we gained the very roof of the building, 
 which was in part leaded, and which, as to a last tower 
 of refuge, those of the cavaliers, who yet escaped, had 
 retired. I was myself, I may say, forced up the narrow 
 winding stair-case, by our soldiers, wha rushed on like 
 dogs of chase upon their prey ; and when extricated 
 from the passage, I found myself in the midst of a horrid 
 scene. The scattered defenders were, some resisting
 
 WOODSTOCK. 237 
 
 with the fury of despair ; some on their knees, imploring 
 for compassion in words and tones to break a man's heart 
 when he tliinks on them ; some were caJHng on God for 
 mercy ; and it was time, for man had none. They were 
 stricken down, thrust through, flung from the battlements 
 into the lake ; and the wild cries of the victors, mingled 
 with the groans, shrieks, and clamours of the vanquished, 
 made a sound so horrible, that only death can erase it 
 from my memory. And the men who butchered their 
 fellow-creatures thus, were neither Pagans Irom distant 
 savage lands, nor ruffians, the refuse and ofF-scouiings of 
 our own people. They were in calm blood reasonable, 
 nay, religious men, maintaining a fair repute both heav- 
 enward and earthward. Oh, Piaster Everard, your trade 
 of war should be feared and avoided, since it converts 
 such men into wolves towards their fellow-creatures !" 
 
 " It is a stern necessity,'' said Everard, looking down, 
 " and as such alone is justifiable — But proceed, reverend 
 sir ; I see not how this storm, an incident but e'en too 
 frequent on both sides during the late war, connects with 
 the aflair of last night." 
 
 " You shall hear anon," said jMr. Holdenough ; then 
 paused as one who makes an effort to comjjose himself 
 before continuing a relation, the tenor of which agitatexl 
 him with much violence. " In this infernal tumult," he 
 resumed — " for surely nothing on earth could so much 
 resemble hell, as when men go thus loose in mortal malice 
 on their fellow-creatures, — I saw the same priest whom 
 I had distinguished on the causeway, with one or two 
 other malignants, pressed into a corner by the assailants, 
 and defending themselves to the last, as those who had 
 no hope. — I saw him — I knew^ him — Oh, Colonel Eve- 
 rard !" 
 
 He grasped Everard's hand with his own left hand, 
 and pressed the palm of his right to his face and forehead, 
 sobbing aloud. 
 
 " It was your college companion f" said Everard, 
 anticipating the catastrophe.
 
 238 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Mine ancient — mine only friend — with whom I had 
 spent the happy days of youth ! — I rushed forward — I 
 struggled — I entreated. But my eagerness left me neither 
 voice nor language — all was drowned in the wretched cry 
 w^hich 1 had myself raised — Down with the priest of Baal 
 — Slay Mattan — slay him were he between the altars ! — 
 Forced over the battlements, but struggling for life, I 
 could see him cling to one of those projections which are 
 formed to carry the water from the leads — but they 
 hacked at his arms and hands. — I heard the heavy fall 
 into the bottomless abyss below. — Excuse me — I cannot 
 go on." 
 
 " He may have escaped." 
 
 " Oh ! no, no, no — the tower was four stories in height. 
 Even those who threw themselves into the lake, from the 
 lower windows, to escape by swimming, had no safety ; 
 for mounted troopers on the shore caught the same blood- 
 thirsty humour which had seized the storming party, gal- 
 loped around the margin of the lake, and shot those who 
 were struggling for life in the water, or cut them down 
 as they strove to get to land. They were all cut off and 
 destroyed. — Oh ! may the blnod shed on that day remain 
 silent ! — Oh ! that the earth . may receive it in her re- 
 cesses ! — Oh ! that it may be mingled for ever with the 
 dark waters of that lake, so that it may never cry for 
 vengeance against those whose anger was fierce, and 
 who slaughtered in their wrath ! — And, oh ! may the 
 erring man be forgiven who came into their assembly, 
 and lent his voice to encourage their cruelty. — Oh ! Al- 
 bany, my brother, my brother — I have lamented for thee 
 even as David for Jonathan !" 
 
 The good man sobbed aloud, and so much did Colonel 
 Everard sympathize with his emotions, that he forebore 
 to press him upon the subject of his own curiosity until 
 the full tide of remorseful passion had for the time abated, 
 It was, however, fierce and agitating, the more so, per^ 
 haps, that indulgence in strong mental feeling of any kind 
 was foreign to the severe and ascetic character of the 
 man, and was therefore the more overpowering when it
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 239 
 
 had at once surmounted all restraints. Large tears 
 flowed down the trembling features of his thin, and usually 
 stern, or at least austere countenance ; he eagerly re- 
 turned the compression of Everard's hand, as if thankful 
 for the sympathy which the caress implied. 
 
 Presently after. Master Holdenough wiped his eyes, 
 withdrew his hand gently from that of Everard's, shaking 
 it kindly as they parted, and proceeded with more com- 
 posure : " Forgive me this burst of passionate feeling 
 worthy Colonel. — I am conscious it little becomes a man 
 of my cloth, who should be the bearer of consolation to 
 others, to give way in mine own person, to an extremity 
 of grief, weak at least, if indeed it is sinful ; for what 
 are we, that we should weep and murmur touching that 
 which is permitted ? But Albany was to me as a brother. 
 The happiest days of my life, ere my Call to mingle my- 
 self in the strife of the land had awakened me to my 
 duties, were spent in his company. — 1 — but 1 will make 
 the rest of my story short." — Here he drew his chair 
 close to that of Everard, and spoke in a solemn and mys- 
 terious tone of voice almost lowered to a whisper — " I 
 saw him last night." 
 
 " Saw him — saw whom .^" said Everard. *' Can you 
 n;eaii the person whom " 
 
 " Whom I saw so ruthlessly slaughtered," said the 
 clergyman. — " My ancient college-friend — Joseph Al- 
 bany." 
 
 " Master Holdenough, your cloth and your character 
 alike must prevent your jesting on such a subject as this." 
 
 *' Jesting I" answered Holdenough ; " 1 would as 
 soon jest on my death-bed — as soon jest upon the Bible." 
 
 " But you must have been deceived," answered Eve- 
 rard, hastily ; " this tragical story necessarily often re- 
 turns to your mind, and in moments when the imagination 
 overcomes the evidence of the outward senses, your fan- 
 cy must have presented to you an unreal appearance. 
 Nothing more likely, when the mind is on the stretch after 
 something supernatural, than that the imagination should
 
 240 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 supply the place with a chimera, while the over- excited 
 feelings render it difficult to dispel the delusion." 
 
 " Colonel Ev^erard," replied Holdenough, with auster- 
 ity, " in discharge of my duty I must not fear the face 
 of man ; and, therefore, I tell you plainly, as I have done 
 before with more observance, that when you bring your 
 carnal learning and judgment, as it is too much your 
 nature to do, to investigate the hidden things of another 
 world you might as well measure with the palm of your 
 hand the waters of the Jsis. Indeed, good sir, you err 
 in this, and give men too much pretence to confound your 
 honourable name with witch-advocates, free-thinkers, and 
 atheists, even with such as this man Bletson, who, if the 
 discipline of the church had its hands strengthened, as it 
 was in the beginning of the great conflict, would have 
 been long ere now cast out of the pale, and delivered 
 over to the punishment of the flesh, that his spirit might 
 if possible, be yet saved." 
 
 " You mistake, JMaster Holdenough," said Colonel 
 Everard ; " 1 do not deny the existence of such preter- 
 natural visitations, because I cannot, and dare not, raise 
 the voice of my own opinion against the testimony of 
 ages, supported by such learned men as yourself. Nev- 
 ertheless, though 1 grant the possibility of such things, I 
 have scarce yet heard of an instance in my days so well 
 fortified by evidence, that I could at once and distinctly 
 say, this must have happened by supernatural agency, 
 and not otherwise." 
 
 " Hear, then, what I have to tell," said the divine, 
 " on the faith of a man, a Christian, and what is more, 
 a servant of our Holy Church ; and therefore, though 
 unworthy, an elder and a teacher among Christians. — J 
 had taken my post yester evening in the half-furnished 
 apartment, wherein hangs a hus^e mirror, which might 
 have served Goliah of Gath to have admired himself in, 
 when clothed from head to foot in his brazen armour. 
 1 the rather chose this place, because they informed me 
 it was the nearest habitable room to the gallery, in which
 
 "WOODSTOCK. 241 
 
 they say you had been yourself assailed that evening by 
 the Evil One. — Was it so, 1 pray you ?" 
 
 " By some one with no good intentions I was assailed 
 in that apartment. So far," said Colonel Everard, 
 " you were correctly informed." 
 
 " Well, I chose my post as well as I might, even as a 
 resolved general approaches his camp, and casts up his 
 mound as nearly as he can to the besieged city. And, 
 of a truth. Colonel Everard, if I feU some sensation of 
 bodily fear, — for even Elias, and the prophets who com- 
 manded the elements, had a portion in our frail nature, 
 much more such a poor sinful being as myself — yet was 
 my hope and my courage high ; and 1 thought ot the 
 texts which I might use, not in the wicked sense cf peri- 
 apts, or spells, as the blinded Papists employ ihem, to- 
 gether with the sign of the cross, and other fruitless forms, 
 but as nourishing and supporting that true trust and con- 
 fidence in the blessed promises, being the true shield of 
 faith wherewith the fiery darts of Satan may be wiihsiood 
 and quenched. And thus aimed and prepared, 1 sat me 
 down to read, at the same time to write, that 1 might 
 compel my mind to attend to those subjects which be- 
 came the situation in which I was placed, as preventing 
 any unlicensed excursions of the fancy, and leaving no 
 room for my imagination to brood over idle fears. So 
 I methodized, and wrote down what I thought meet for 
 the time, and peradventure some hungry souls may yet 
 profit by the food which 1 then prepared." 
 
 " It was wisely and worthily done, good and reverend 
 sir," replied Colonel Everard : " 1 pray you to proceed." 
 
 " While 1 was thus employed, sir, and had been upon 
 the matter, for about three hours, not yielding to weari- 
 ness, a strange thrilling came over my senses, — and the 
 large and old-fashioned apartment seemed to wax larger, 
 more gloomy, and more cavernous, while the air of the 
 night grew more cold and chill ; 1 know not if it was 
 that the fire began to decay, or whether there cometh 
 before such things as were then about to happen, a breath 
 
 21 VOL. I.
 
 242 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 and atmosphere, as it were, of terror, as Job saith, in a 
 well-known passage, ' Fear came upon me, and trem- 
 bling, wliicli made my bones to shake;' and there was a 
 tingling noise in my ears, and a dizziness in my brain, so 
 that 1 felt like those who call for aid when there is no 
 danger, and was even prompted to flee, when I saw no 
 one to pursue. It was then that something seemed to 
 pass behind me, casting a reflection on the great mirror 
 before which I had placed my writing-table, and which 
 I saw by assistance of the great standing light which was 
 then in front of the glass. And 1 looked up, and I saw 
 in the glass distinctly the appearance of a man — as sure 
 as these words issue from my mouth, it was no other than 
 liie same Josej)h Albany — the companion of my youth — 
 he whom 1 had seen precipitated down the battlements 
 of Clidesthrough Caslle inio the deep lake below." 
 
 " What did you do f" 
 
 " It suddenly rushed on my mind," said the divine, 
 *' that the stoical philosopher Athenodorus had eluded 
 the horrors of such a vision by patiently pursuing his 
 studies ; and it shot at the same time across my mind, 
 that 1, a Christian divine, and a Steward of the ]V]ysteries, 
 had less reason to fear evil, and better matter on which 
 to employ my thoughts, than was possessed by a Heathen, 
 who was blinded even by his own wisdom. So, instead 
 of betraying any alarm, or even turning my head around, 
 I pursued my writing, but with a beating heart, I admit, 
 and with a throbbing hand." 
 
 " If you could write at all," said the Colonel, *' with 
 such an impression on your mind, you may take the head 
 of the English army for dauntless resolution." 
 
 " Our courage is not our own, Colonel," said the 
 divine, *' and not as ours should it be vaunted of. And 
 again, when you speak of this strange vision as an im- 
 pression on my fancy, and not a reality obvious to my 
 senses, let me tell you once more, your worldly wisdom 
 is but foolishness touching the things that are not worldly." 
 
 " Did you not look again upon the mirror .f^" said the 
 Colonel.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 243 
 
 " I did, when 1 had copied out the comfortahle text, 
 *Thou shah tread down Satan under ihy feet.' " 
 
 " And what did you then see r" 
 
 " The reflection of the same JosejDh Albany," said 
 Holdenough, " passing slowly as from behind my chair, 
 the same in member and lineament that I had known 
 him in his youth, excepting that his cheek had the marks 
 of the more advanced age at which he died, and was 
 very pale." 
 
 •' What did you then .'" 
 
 " I turned from the glass, and plainly saw the figure 
 which made tlie reflection in the mirror retreating to- 
 wards the door, not fast, nor slow, but with a gliding 
 steady pace. It turned again when near the door, and 
 again showed me its pale, ghastly countenance, before 
 it disappeared. But how it left the room, whether by 
 the door, or otherw ise, my spirits were too much hurried 
 to remark exactly ; nor have 1 been able by any effort 
 of recollection, distinctly to remember." 
 
 " This is a strange, and, as coming from you, a most 
 excellently well-attested apparition," answered Everard. 
 *' And yet, iMaster Holdenough, if the other world has 
 been actually displayed, as you apprehend, and I will not 
 dispute the possibility, assure yourself, there are also 
 wicked men concerned in these machinations. I myself 
 have undergone some rencontres with visitants who pos- 
 sessed bodily strength, and wore, I am sure, earthly 
 weapons." 
 
 " Oh ! doubtless, doubtless," replied ]\Iaster Hold- 
 enough ; " Beelzebub loves to charge with horse and 
 foot mingled, as was the fashion of the old Scotch Gen- 
 eral, David Leslie. He has his devils in the body as 
 well as his devils disembodied, and uses the one to sup- 
 port and back the other." 
 
 " It may be as you say, reverend sir," answered the 
 Colonel. — "But what do you advise in this case?" 
 
 " For that I must consult with my brethren," said the 
 divine ; " and if there be but left in our borders five 
 ministers of the true kirk, we will charge Satan in full
 
 244 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 body, and you shall see whether we have not power over 
 him to resist till he shall flee from us. But tailing that 
 ghostly armament against these strange and unearthly 
 enemies, truly I recommend, that as a house of witchcraft 
 and abomination, this polluted den of ancient tyranny and 
 prostitution should be totally consumed by fire, lest Satan, 
 establishing his head-quarters so much to his mind, should 
 find a garrison and a fastness from which he might sally 
 forth to infest the whole neighbourhood. Certain it is, 
 that I would recommend to no Christian soul to inhabit 
 the mansion ; and, if deserted, it would become a place 
 for wizards to play their pranks, and witches to establish 
 their Sabbath, and those who, like Demas, go about after 
 the wealth of this world, seeking for gold and silver to 
 practise spells and charms to the prejudice of the souls 
 of the covetous. Trust me, therefore, it were better that 
 it were spoiled and broken down, not leaving one stone 
 upon another." 
 
 " I say nay to that, my good friend," said the Colonel ; 
 " for the Lord-General hath permitted, by his license, 
 my mother's brother, Sir Henry Lee, and his family, to 
 return into the house of his fathers, being indeed the 
 only roof under which he hath any chance of obtaining 
 sheher for his grey hairs." 
 
 " And was this done by your advice, Markham Eve- 
 rard ?" said the divine, austerely. 
 
 " Certainly it was," returned the Colonel. — " And 
 wherefore should I not exert mine influence to obtain a 
 place of refuge for the brother of my mother .^" 
 
 '' Now, as sure as thy soul livelh," answered the pres- 
 byter, '• I had believed this from no tongue but thine own. 
 Tell me, was it not this very Sir Henry Lee, who, by the 
 force of his bufF-coats and green-jerkins, enforced the 
 Papist Laic's order to remove the altar to the eastern end 
 of the church at Woodstock ? — and did not he swear by 
 his beard, that he woiild hang in the very street of Wood- 
 stock whoever should deny to drink the King's health ? 
 — and is not his hand red with the blood of the saints .'*
 
 WOODSTOCK. 245 
 
 — and hath there been a ruffler in the field for prelacy 
 and high preroj^ative more unmitigable or fiercer ?*' 
 
 " All this may have been as you say, good Master 
 Holdenough," answered the Colonel ; " bnt my uncle is 
 now old and feeble, and hath scarce a single follower 
 remaining, and his daughter is a being whom to look upon 
 would make the sternest weep for pity ; a being who — " 
 
 " Who is dearer to Everard," said Holdenough, 
 ** than bis good name, his faith to his friends, his duty 
 to his^ religion ; — this is no time to speak with sugared 
 lips. The paths in which you tread are dangerous. 
 You are striving to raise the papistical candlestick, which 
 Heaven in its justice removed out of its place — to bring 
 back lo this hall of sorceries those very sinners who are 
 bewitched with them. I will not permit the land to be 
 abused by their witchcrafts. — They shall not come 
 hither." 
 
 He spoke this with vehemence, and striking his stick 
 against the ground ; and the Colonel, very much dissat- 
 isfied, began to express himself haughtily in return. 
 *' You had better consider your power to accomplish your 
 threats, Master Holdenough," he said, " before you urge 
 them so peremptorily." 
 
 " And have I not the power to bind and to loose ?*' 
 said the clergyman. 
 
 " It is a power little available, save over those of your 
 own church," said Everard, with a tone something con- 
 temptuous. 
 
 " Take heed — take heed," said the divine, who, though 
 an excellent, was, as w^e have elsewhere seen, an irritable 
 man. — " Do not insult me ; but think honourably of the 
 messenger, for the sake of Him whose commission he 
 carries. — Do not, I say, defy me — 1 am bound to dis- 
 charge my duty, were it lo the displeasing of my twin 
 brother." 
 
 " I can see nought your cffce has to do in the matter," 
 said Colonel Everard ; " and I, on my side, give you 
 
 21* VOL. I.
 
 246 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 warning not to attempt to meddle beyond your commis- 
 sion." 
 
 "Right — you hold me already to be as' submissive as 
 one of your grenadiers," replied the clergyman, his acute 
 features trembling with a sense of indignity, so as even to 
 agitate his grey hair ; " but beware, sir, I am not so pow- 
 erless as you suppose. I will invoke every true Christian 
 in Woodstock to gird up his loins, and resist the restora- 
 tion of prelacy, oppression, and malignancy within our 
 borders. I will stir up the wrath of the righteous 
 against the oppressor — the Ishmaehte — the Edomite — 
 and against his race, and against those who support and 
 encourage him to rear up his horn. I will call aloud, 
 and spare not, and arouse the many whose love hath 
 waxed cold, and the multitude who care for none of these 
 things. There shall be a remnant to hsten to me ; and 
 I will take the stick of Joseph, which was in the hand of 
 Ephraim, and go down to cleanse this place of witches 
 and sorcerers, and of enchantments, and will cry and 
 exhort, saying — Will you plead for Baal ? — will you 
 ?erve him ? Nay, take the prophets of Baal — let not a 
 man escape." 
 
 " Master Holdenough, Master Holdenough," said Col- 
 onel Everard, with much impatience, " by the tale your- 
 self told me, you have exhorted upon that text once too 
 often already." 
 
 The old man struck his palm forcibly against his fore- 
 head, and fell back into a chair as these words were ut- 
 tered, as suddenly, and as much without power of resist- 
 ance, as if the Colonel had fired a pistol through his head. 
 Instantly regretting the reproach which he had suffered 
 to escape him in his impatience, Everard hastened to 
 apologize, and to offer every conciliatory excuse, however 
 inconsistent, which occurred to him on the moment. 
 But the old m.an was too deeply affected — he rejected his 
 hand, lent no ear to what he said, and finally started up, 
 saying sternly, " You have abused my confidence, sir — 
 abused it vilely, to turn it into my own reproach : had I 
 been a man of the sword, you dared not — But enjoy your
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 247 
 
 triumph, sir, over an old man, and your father's friend — 
 strike at the wound his imprudent confidence showed 
 you." 
 
 " Nay, my worthy and excellent friend," said the 
 Colonel 
 
 " Friend !" answered the old man, starting up — "We 
 are foes, sir — foes now, and for ever !" 
 
 So saying, and starting from the seat into which he had 
 rather fallen than thrown himself, he ran out of the room 
 with a precipitation of step which he was apt to use upon 
 occasions of irritable feeling, and which was certainly 
 more eager than dignified, especially as he muttered while 
 he ran, and seemed as if he were keeping up his own 
 passion, by recounting over and over the offence which 
 he had received. 
 
 " Soh !" said Colonel Everard, " and there was not 
 strife enough between mine uncle and the people of Wood- 
 stock already, but I must needs increase it, by chafing 
 this irritable and quick-tempered old man,eager^aslknew 
 him to be in his ideas of church government, and stifi' in 
 his prejudices respecting all who dissent from him ! The 
 mob of Woodstock will rise ; for though he would not get 
 a score of them to stand by him in any honest or intelli- 
 gible purpose, yet let him cry havoc and destruction, and 
 I will w^arrant he has followers enow. And my uncle is 
 equally wildtand unpersuadable. For the value of all the 
 estate he ever had, he would not allow a score of troop- 
 ers to be quartered in the house for defence ; and if he 
 be alone, or has but Joceline to stand by him, he will 
 be as sure to fire upon those who come to attack the 
 Lodge, as if he had a hundred men in garrison ; and 
 then"what can chance but danger and bloodshed ?" 
 
 This progress of melancholy anticipation was inter- 
 rupted by the return of Master Holdenough, who, hurry- 
 ing into the room, with the same precipitate pace at which 
 he had left it, ran straight up to the Colonel, and said — 
 " Take my hand, Markham — take my hand hastily ; for 
 the old Adam is whispering at my heart, that it is a dis- 
 grace to hold it extended so long."
 
 248 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " Most heartily do I receive your hand, my venerable 
 friend," said Everard, " and 1 trust in sign of renewed 
 amity." 
 
 " Surely, surely — " said the divine, shaking his hand 
 kindly ; " thou hast, it is true, spoken bitterly ; but thou 
 hast spoken truth in good time ; and I think — though 
 your words were severe — with a good and kindly purpose. 
 Verily, and of a truth, it were sinful in me again to be 
 hasty in provoking violence, remembering that which you 
 have upbraided me with " 
 
 " Forgive me, good Master Holdenough," said Colo- 
 nel Everard, " it was a hasty word ; I meant not in 
 serious earnest to uphraid.^"* 
 
 " Peace, I pray you, peace," said the divine ; " I 
 say, the allusion to that which you have most jrtstly up- 
 braided me with — though the charge aroused the gall of 
 the Old Man within me, the inward tempter being ever 
 on the watch to bring us to his lure — ought, instead of 
 being resented, to have been acknowledged by me as a 
 favour, for so are the wounds of a friend termed faith- 
 ful. And surely I, who have by one unhappy exhorta- 
 tion to battle and strife, sent the living to the dead — and 
 I fear brought back even the dead among the living — 
 should now study peace and good will, and reconciliation 
 of difference, leaving punishment to the Great Being 
 whose laws are broken, and vengeance to Him who hath 
 said, I will repay it." 
 
 The old man's mortified features lighted up with a 
 humble confidence as he made this acknowledgment ; 
 and Colonel Everard, who knew the constitutional infir- 
 mities, and the early prejudices of professional conse- 
 quence and exclusive party opinion, which he must have 
 s:ibdued ere arriving at such a tone of candour, hastened 
 to express his admiration of his Christian charity, mingled 
 with reproaches on himself for having so deeply injured 
 his feelings. 
 
 " Think not of it — think not of it, excellent young 
 man," said Holdenough ; " we have both erred — I in 
 suffering my zeal to outrun my charity, you, perhaps, in
 
 WOODSTOCK. 249 
 
 pressing hard oR an old and peevish man, who had so 
 lately poured out his sufferings into your friendly bosom. 
 Be it all forgotten. Let your friends — if they are not 
 deterred by what has happened at this manor of Wood- 
 stock — resume their habitation as soon as they will. If 
 they can protect themselves against the powers of the air, 
 beheve me, that if 1 can prevent it by aught in my power, 
 they shall have no annoyance from earthly neighbours ; 
 and assure yourself, good sir, that my voice is slill worth 
 something with the worthy Mayor, and the good Alder- 
 men, and the better sort of house-keepers up yonder in 
 the town, although the lower classes are blown about with 
 every wind of doctrine. And yet farther be assured, 
 Colonel, that should your mother's brother, or any of his 
 family, learn that they have taken up a rash bargain in 
 returning to this unhappy and unhallowed house, or should 
 they find any qualms in their own hearts and consciences 
 which require a ghostly comforter, Nehemiah Hold- 
 enough will be as much at their tcommand by night or 
 day, as if they had been bred up within the holy pale of 
 the church in which he is an unworthy minister ; and 
 neither the awe of what is fearful to be seen within these 
 walls, nor his knowledge of their blinded and carnal state, 
 as bred up under a prelatic dispensation, shall prevent 
 him doing what lies in his poor abilities for their protec- 
 tion and edification." 
 
 " I feel all the force of your kindness, reverend sir," 
 said Colonel Everard, •' but I do not think it likely that 
 my uncle will give you trouble on either score. He is a 
 man much accustomed to be his own protector in temporal 
 danger, and in spiritual doubts to trust to his own prayers 
 and those of his Church." 
 
 " I trust I have not been superfluous in offering mine 
 assistance," said the old man, something jealous that his 
 proffered spiritual aid had been held rather intrusive. 
 " I ask pardon if that is the case — 1 humbly ask pardon 
 — T would not willingly be superfluous." 
 
 The Colonel hastened to appease this new alarm of the 
 watchful jealousy of his consequence, which, joined with
 
 250 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 a natural heat of temper which he coulctnot always sub- 
 due, were the good man's only faults. 
 
 They had regained their former friendly footing, when 
 Roger Wildrake returned from the hut of Joceline, and 
 whispered his master that his embassy had been success- 
 ful. The Colonel then addressed the divine, and in- 
 formed him, that as the Commissioners had already given 
 up Woodstock, and as his uncle, Sir Henry Lee, pro- 
 posed to return to the Lodge about noon, he would, if 
 his reverence pleased, attend him up to the borough. 
 
 " Will you not tarry," said the reverend man, with 
 something like inquisitive apprehension in his voice, "to 
 welcome your relatives upon their return to this their 
 house .'"' 
 
 " No, my good friend," said Colonel Everard ; " the 
 part which I have taken in these unhappy broils — per- 
 haps also the mode of worship in which I have been ed- 
 ucated — have so prejudiced me in mine uncle's opinion, 
 that I must be for some time a stranger to his house and 
 family." 
 
 " Indeed ! I rejoice to hear it, with all my heart and 
 soul," said the divine. " Excuse my frankness — I do 
 indeed rejoice, — 1 had thought — no matter what 1 had 
 thought, — I would not again give offence. But truly 
 though the maiden hath a pleasant feature, and he, as all 
 men say, is in human things unexceptionable,— yet — but I 
 give you pain — in sooth I will say no more unless you 
 ask my sincere and unprejudiced advice, which you shall 
 command, but which I will not press on you superfluously. 
 Wend we to the borough together — the pleasant solitude 
 of the forest may dispose us to open our hearts to each 
 other." 
 
 They did walk up to the little town in company, and, 
 somewhat to Master Holdenough's surprise, the Colonel, 
 though they talked on various subjects, did not request 
 of him any ghostly advice on the subject of his love to his 
 fair cousin, while, greatly beyond the expectation of the 
 soldier, the clergyman kept his word, and, in his own
 
 WOODSTOCK. 251 
 
 phrase, was not so superfluous as to offer upon so deli- 
 cate a point his unasked counsel. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Then are the harpies gone— Yet ere we perch 
 Where such foul birds have roosted, let us cleanse 
 The foul obscenity they've left behind them. 
 
 Agamemnon. 
 
 The embassy of Wildrake had been successful, 
 chiefly through the mediation of the Episcopal divine, 
 whom we formerly found acting in the character of chap- 
 lain to the family, and whose voice had great influence on 
 many accounts with its master. 
 
 A little before high noon. Sir Henry Lee, with his 
 small household was again in unchallenged possession of 
 their old apartments at the Lodge of Woodstock ; and 
 the combined exertions of Joceline Joliffe, of Phoebe, 
 and of old Joan, w^ere employed in putting to rights what 
 the late intruders had left in great disorder. 
 
 Sir Henry Lee had, like all persons of quality of that 
 period, a love of order amounting to precision, and felt, 
 like a fine lady whose dress has been disordered in a 
 crowed, insulted and humiliated by the rude confusion 
 into which his household goods had been thrown, and 
 impatient till his mansion had been purified from all 
 marks of intrusion. In his anger he uttered more orders 
 than the limited number of his domestics were likely to 
 find time or hands to execute. " The villains have left 
 such sulphureous steams behind them, too," said the old 
 knight, " as if old David Leslie and the whole Scotch 
 army had quartered among them." 
 
 " It may be near as bad," said Joceline, " for men 
 say, for certain, it was the devil came down bodily among 
 them, and made them troop off."
 
 252 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 « Then," said the Knight, " is the Prince of Darkness 
 a gentleman, as old Will Shakspeare says. He never in- 
 terferes with those of his own coat, for the Lees have 
 been here, father and son, these five hundred years, 
 without disquiet ; and no sooner came these misbegotten 
 churls, than he plays his own part among them." 
 
 " Well, one thing he and they have left us," said Jo- 
 liffe, " which we may thank them for; and that is, such 
 a well-filled larder and buttery as has been seldom seen 
 in Woodstock Lodge this many a day ; — carcasses of 
 mutton, large rounds of beef, barrels of confectioners' 
 ware, pipes and runlets of sack, muscadine, ale, and 
 what not. We shall have a royal time on't through half 
 the winter ; and Joan must get to salting and pickling 
 presently." 
 
 *' Out, villain !" said the Knight ; " are we to feed 
 on the fragments of such scum of the earth as these ? — 
 Cast them forth instantly !— fNay," checking himself, 
 " that were a sin ; but give them to the poor, or see them 
 sent to the owners. — And, hark ye, I will none of their 
 strong liquors — I would rather drink like a hermit all my 
 life, than seem to pledge scoundrels as these in their 
 leavings, like a miserable drawer, who drains off the ends 
 of the bottles after the guests have paid their reckoning, 
 and gone off. — And, hark ye, I will taste no water from 
 the cistern out of which these slaves have been serving 
 themselves — fetch me down a pitcher from Rosamond's 
 spring." 
 
 Alice heard this injunction, and well guessing there was 
 enough for the other members of the family to do, she 
 quietly took a small pitcher, and flinging a cloak around 
 her, walked out in person to procure Sir Henry the water 
 which he desired. Meantime, Joceline said, with some 
 hesitation, "that there was a man still remained, belong- 
 ing to the party of these strangers, who was directing 
 about the removal of some trunks and mails which be- 
 longed to the Commissioners, and who could receive his 
 honour's commands about the provisions."
 
 WOODSTOCK. 253 
 
 *' Let him come hither." — (The dialogue was held in 
 the hail) — " Wliy do you hesitate, and drumble in that 
 manner ?" 
 
 *' Only, sir," said Joceline, "only perhaps your hon- 
 our might not wish to see him, being the same who, on 
 the night before last " 
 
 He paused. 
 
 " Sent my rapier a hawking ihroti2:h the firmament, 
 thou would'st say ? — ^Vhy, when did I take spleen at a 
 man for standing liis ground against me f — Roundhead as 
 he is, man, I like him the belter of that, not the worse. 
 I hunger and tlnist to have another turn with him. I 
 have thought on his passado ever since, and I believe, 
 were it to try again. 1 know a feat would control it. — 
 Fetch him directly." 
 
 Trusty Tom kins w'as presently ushered in, bearing 
 himself with an iron gravity, which neither the terrors of 
 the preceding night, nor the dignified demeanour of the 
 high-born personage before whom he stood, were able 
 for an instant to overcome. 
 
 *' How now, good fellow .'^" said Sir Henry ; " I would 
 fain see something more of thy fence, which baffled me 
 the other evening — but truly, 1 think the light was some- 
 what too faint for my old eyes — Take a foil, man — 1 walk 
 herein the hall, as Hamlet says ; and 'tis the bieathing- 
 time of day with me — Take a foil then in thy hand." 
 
 *' Since it is your worship's desire," said the steward, 
 lettins; fall his long cloak, and taking the foil in his hand. 
 
 "Now," said the Knight, " if your fitness speaks, mine 
 is ready. Methinks the very stepping on this same old 
 pavement hath charmed away the gout which threatened 
 me. — Sa — sa — I tread as firm as a game-cock." 
 
 They began the play with great spirit ; and whether 
 the old knight really fought more coolly with the blunt 
 than with the sharp weapon, or whether the stew ard gave 
 him some grains of advantage in this merely sportive 
 encounter, it is certain Sir Henry l)ad the better in the 
 assault. His success put him into excellent humour. 
 22 VOL. I.
 
 254 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " There," said he, " I found your trick, — nay, you 
 cheat me not twice the same way — There was a very pal- 
 pable hit — Why, had J had but light enough the other 
 night — But it skills not speaking of it — Here we leave 
 off ; I must not fight, as we unwise cavaliers did with you 
 roundhead rascals, beating you so often that we taught 
 you to beat us at last. — And good now, tell me why you 
 are leaving your larder so full here f — Do you think I or 
 my family can use broken victuals ? — What, have you 
 no better employment for your rounds of sequestrated 
 beef than to leave them behind you when you shift your 
 quarters ?" 
 
 " So please your honour," said Tomkins, " it may be 
 that you desire not the flesh of beeves, of rams, or of 
 goats. Nevertheless, when you know that the provisions 
 were provided and paid for out of your own rents and 
 stock at Ditchley, sequestrated to the use of the state 
 more than a year since, it may be you will have less 
 scruple to use them for your own behoof." 
 
 " Rest assured that 1 shall," said Sir Henry ; " and 
 glad you have helped me to a share of mine own. Cer- 
 tainly I was an ass to suspect your masters of subsisting, 
 save at honest men's expense." 
 
 " And as for the rumps of beeves," continued Tom- 
 kins, with the same solemnity, " there is a rum.p at West- 
 minster, which will stand us of the army much hacking 
 and hewing yet, ere it is discussed to our mind." 
 
 Sir Henry paused, as if to consider what was the mean- 
 ing of this inuendo ; for he was not a person of very 
 quick apprehension. But having at length caught the 
 meaning of it, he burst into an explosion of louder 
 laughter than Joceline had seen him indulge in for a good 
 while. 
 
 " Right, knave," he said, " I taste thy jest—It is the 
 very moral of the puppet-show. Faustus raised the 
 (Jevil, as the Parliament raised the army — and then, as 
 (be devil flies away with Faustus, so will the army fly 
 away with the Parliament — or the rump, as thou call'stit, 
 or sitting part of the so-called Parhament. — And then.
 
 AVOOD STOCK. 255 
 
 look yon, friend, the very devil of all hatli my willing 
 consent to fly away with the army in its turn, from tii^ 
 highest general down to the lowest drum-boy. — Nay, 
 never look fierce for the matter ; renieinber there is 
 daylight enough now for a game at sharps." 
 
 Trusty Tomkins appeared to think it best to suppress 
 his displeasure ; and observing, that the wains were ready 
 to transport the Commissioners' property to the borough, 
 took a grave leave of Sir Henry Lee. 
 
 Meantime the old man continued to pace his recover- 
 ed hall, rubbing his hands, and evincing greater signs of 
 glee than he had shown since the fatal 30th of January. 
 
 " Here we are again in the old frank, Joliffe — well 
 victualled too. — How the knave solved my point of con- 
 science ! — the dullest of them is a special casuist where 
 the question concerns profit. Look out if there are not 
 some of our own ragged regiment lurking about, to whom 
 a bellyfull would be a God-send, Joceline — Then his 
 fence, Joceline — though the fellow foins well — very suffi- 
 cient well — But thou saw'st how I dealt with him when I 
 had fitting light, Joceline." 
 
 " Ay, and so your honour did," said Joceline. "You 
 taught him to know the Duke of Norfolk from Saunders 
 Gardner. I'll warrant him, he will not wish to come un- 
 der your honour's thumb again." 
 
 " Why, I am waxing old," said Sir Henry ; " but 
 skill will not rust through age, though sinews must stiffen. 
 But my age is like a lusty winter, as old Will says — 
 frosty but kindly — And wnat if, old as we are, we live to 
 see better days yet ! I promise thee, Joceline, I love this 
 jarring betwixt the rogues of the board and the rogues 
 of the sword. When thieves quarrel, true men have a 
 chance of coming by their own." 
 
 Thus triumphed the old cavalier, in the treble glory of 
 having recovered his dw^elling — regained, as he thought, 
 his character as a man of fence, and finally discovered 
 some prospect of a change of times, in which he was 
 not without hopes that something might turn up for thp 
 royal interest.
 
 256 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 Meanwhile, Alice, with a prouder and a lighter heart 
 than had danced in her bosom for several days, went 
 forth with a gaiety to which she of late had been a stran- 
 ger, to contribute her assistance to the regulation and 
 supply of the household, by bringing the fresh water want- 
 ed from fair Rosamond's well. 
 
 Perhaps she remembered, that when she was but a 
 girl, her cousin Markham used, among others, to make 
 her perform that duty, as presenting the character of some 
 captive Tjojan princess, condemned by her situation to 
 draw the waters from some Grecian spring, for the use of 
 the proud victor. — At any rate, she certainly joyed to see 
 her father reinstated in his ancient habitation ; and the 
 joy was not the less sincere, that she knew their return 
 to Woodstock had been procured by means of her cousin, 
 and that even in her father's prejudiced eyes, Everard 
 had been in some degree exculpated of the accusations 
 the old knight had brought against him ; and that if a 
 reconciliation had not yet taken place, the preliminaries 
 had been established on which such a desirable conclusion 
 might easily be founded. It was like the commencement 
 of a bridge, when the foundation is securely laid, and 
 the piers raised above the influence of the torrent ; the 
 throwing of the arches may be accomplished in a subse- 
 quent season. 
 
 The doubtful fate of her only brother might have 
 clouded even this momentary gleam of sunshine ; but 
 Alice had been bred up during tl)e close and frequent 
 contests of civil war, and had acquired the habit of hop- 
 ing in behalf of those dear to her, until hope was lost. 
 In the present case, all reports seemed to assure her of 
 her brotlier's safety. 
 
 Besides these causes for gaiety, Alice Lee had the 
 pleasing feeling that she was restored to the habitation 
 and the haunts of her childhood, from which she had 
 not departed without much pain, the more felt, perhaps, 
 because suppressed, in order to avoid irritating her fath- 
 er's sense of his misfortune. Finally, she enjoyed for 
 the instant the gleam of self-satisfaction by which we see
 
 WOODSTOCK 
 
 251 
 
 the young and well-disposed so often animated, when 
 they can be, in common phrase, helpful to those vvhoni 
 they love, and perform at the moment of need some of 
 those httle domestic tasks, which age receives with so 
 much pleasure from the dutiful hands of youth. So that, 
 altogether, as she hasted through the remains and vesti- 
 ges of a wilderness already mentioned, and from thence 
 about a bow^-shot into the Park, to bring a pitcher of 
 v%-ater from Rosamond's spring, Alice Lee, her features 
 enlivened and her complexion a little raised by the ex- 
 ercise, had, for the moment, regained the gay and brilliant 
 vivacity of expression which had been the characteristic 
 of her beauty in her earlier and happier days. 
 
 This fountain of old memory had been once adorned 
 with architectural ornaments in the style of the sixteenth 
 century, chiefly relating to ancient mythology. All these 
 w^ere now wasted and overthrown, and existed only as 
 moss-covered ruins; while the living spring, continued to 
 furnish its daily treasures, unrivalled in purity, though the 
 quantity was small, gushing out amid disjointed stones, 
 and bubbling through fragments of ancient sculpture. 
 
 With a light step and a laughing brow the young Lady 
 of Lee was approaching the fountain, usually so solitary, 
 when she paused on beliolding some one seated beside 
 it. She proceeded, however, with confidence, though 
 with a step something less gay, when sbe observed that 
 the person w'as a female ; — some menial perhaps from 
 the town, whom a fanciful mistress occasionally despatch- 
 ed for the water of a spring, supposed to be peculiarl\' 
 pure, or some aged woman, who made a little trade by 
 carrying it to tbe better sort of families, and selling it for 
 a trifle. There was no cause, therefore, for apprehension. 
 
 Yet the terrors of the times were so great, that Alice 
 did not even see a stranger of her own sex without some 
 apprehension. Denaturalized women had as usual fol- 
 lowed tlie camps of both armies duiing the Civil War ', 
 who on the one side with open j)rofligacy and profanity, 
 on the other uiih the fraud ful tone of fanaticism or hypo- 
 22* VOL. I.
 
 258 
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 crisy, exercised nearly in like degree their talents for 
 murder or plunder. But it was broad daylight, the dis- 
 tance from the Lodge was but trifling, and though a little 
 alarmed at seeing a stranger where she expected deep 
 solitude, the daughter of the haughty old Knight had too 
 much of the lion about her, to fear without some de- 
 termined and decided cause. 
 
 Alice walked, therefore, gravely on towards the fount, 
 and composed her looks as she took a hasty glance of the 
 female who was seated there, and addressed herself to 
 her task of filling her pitcher. 
 
 The woman, whose presence had surprised and some- 
 what startled Alice Lee, was a person of the lower rank, 
 whose red cloak, russet kirtle, handkerchief trimmed with 
 Coventry blue, and a coarse steeple hat, could not indi- 
 cate at best any thing higher than the wife of a small 
 farmer, or, perliaps, the helpmate of a bailiff or hind. 
 It was well if she proved nothing worse. Her clothes, 
 indeed, were of good materials ; but, what the female 
 eye discerns with half a glance, they were indifferently 
 adjusted and put on. This looked as if they did not 
 belong to the person by whom they w^ere worn, but were 
 articles of which she had become the mistress by some 
 accident, if not by some successful robbery. Her size, 
 too, as did not escape Alice, even in the short perusal she 
 afforded the stranger, was unusual ; her features swarthy 
 and singularly harsh, and her manner altogether unpropi- 
 tious. The young lady almost wished, as she stooped 
 to fill her pitcher, that she had rather turned back, and 
 sent Joceline on the errand ; but repentance was too late 
 now, and she had only to disguise as well as she could her 
 unpleasant feelings. 
 
 " The blessings of this bright day to one as bright as 
 it is," said the stranger, with no unfriendly, though a 
 harsh voice. 
 
 " I thank you," said Alice in reply ; and continued to 
 fill her pitcl^er busily, by assistance of an iron bowl which 
 remained still chained to one of the stones beside the 
 fountain.
 
 WOODSTOCK. 259 
 
 " Perhaps, my pretty maiden, if you would acceot 
 my help, your work would be sooner done," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 " 1 thank you," said Alice ; " but had I needed assist- 
 ance, 1 could have brought those with me who had ren- 
 dered it." 
 
 " 1 do not doubt of that, my pretty maiden," answer- 
 ed the female ; " there are too many lads in Woodstock 
 with eyes in their heads — No doubt you could have 
 brought with you any one of them who looked on you. 
 if you had listed." 
 
 Alice rephed not a syllable, for she did not like the 
 treedom used by the speaker, and was desirous to break 
 off the conversation. 
 
 '^ Are you offended, my pretty mistress .^" said the 
 stranger ; " that uas far from my purpose. — 1 will put 
 my question otherwise — Are the good dames of Wood- 
 stock so careless of their pretty daughters as to let the 
 flower of them all wander about the wild chase without 
 a mother, or a somebody to prevent the fox from running 
 away with the lamb ^ — that carelessness, methinks, shows 
 small kindness." 
 
 " Content yourself, good woman, I am not far fiom 
 protection and assistance," said Alice, who liked less 
 and less the effrontery of her new acquaintance. 
 
 " Alas ! my pretty maiden," said the stranger, patting 
 with her large and hard hand the head which Alice had 
 kept bended down towards the water whicli she was lav- 
 ing, " it would be difficult to hear such a pipe as yours 
 at the town of Woodstock, scream as loud as you would." 
 
 Alice shook the woman's hand angrily off, took up her 
 pitcher, though not above half full, and as she saw the 
 stranger rise at the same time, said, not without fear 
 doubtless, but with a natural feeling of resentment and 
 dignity, *' 1 have no reason to make my cries heard as 
 far as Woodstock ; were there occasion for my crying 
 for help at all, it is nearer at hand if I need it." 
 
 She spoke not without a warrant ; for, at the moment, 
 broke through the Lushes, and stood by her side, the no-
 
 260 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 ble liound Bevis ; fixing on the stranger his eyes that 
 glanced fire, raising every hair on his gallant mane as 
 upright as the bristles of a wild boar when hard pressed, 
 grinning till a case of teeth, which would have matched 
 those of any wolf in Russia, were displayed in full array, 
 and, without either barking or springing, seeming, by his 
 low determined growl, to await but the signal for dashing 
 at the female, whom he plainly considered as a suspicious 
 person. 
 
 But the stranger was undaunted. "My pretty maid- 
 en," she said, "you have indeed a formidable guardian 
 there, where cocknej^s or bumpkins are concerned ; but 
 we who have been at the wars know spells for taming 
 such furious dragons ; and therefore let not your four- 
 footed protector go loose on me, for he is a noble animal, 
 and nothing but self-defence would induce me to do him 
 injury." So saying, she drew a pistol from her bosom 
 and cocked it — pointing it towards the dog, as if appre- 
 hensive that he would spring upon her. 
 
 " Hold, woman, hold !" said Alice Lee ; " the dog 
 will not do you harm. — Down, Bevis, couch down — And 
 ere you attempt to hurt him, know he is the favourite 
 hound of Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley, the keeper of 
 Woodstock Park, who would severely revenge any injury 
 offered to him." 
 
 " And you, pretty one, are the old knight's house- 
 keeper, doubtless ? 1 have often lieard the Lees have 
 good taste." 
 
 "I am his daughter, good woman." 
 
 " His daughter ! — I was blind — but yet it is true, noth- 
 ing less perfect could answer the description which all 
 the world has given of Mistress Alice Lee. I trust that 
 my folly has given my young mistress no offence, and that 
 she w'ill allow me, in token of reconciliation, to fill her 
 pitcher, and carry it as far as she will permit." 
 
 " As you will, good mother ; but I am about to return 
 instantly to tlie Lod2;e, to which, in these times, 1 cannot 
 admit strangers. You can follow me no farther than the 
 verge of the wilderness, and 1 am already too long from
 
 WOODSTOCK. 261 
 
 home : I will send some one to meet and relieve you pf 
 the pitcher." So saying, she turned her back, with a 
 feeling of terror which she could hardly account for, and 
 began to walk quickly towards the Lodge, thinking thus to 
 get rid of her troublesoine acquaintance. 
 
 But she reckoned without her host ; for in a moment 
 her new companion was by her side, not running, indeed, 
 but walking with prodigious long unwomanly strides, which 
 soon brought her up with the hurried and timid steps of 
 the fris;htened maiden. But her manner was more re- 
 spectful than formerly, though her voice sounded remark- 
 ably harsh and disagreeable, and her whole appearance 
 suggested an undefined, and yet irresistible feeling of 
 apprehension. 
 
 " Pardon a stranger, lovely Mistress Alice," said her 
 persecutor, " that was not capable of distinguishing be- 
 tween a lady of your high quality and a peasant wench, 
 and who spoke to you with a degree of freedom, ill-be- 
 fitting your rank, certainly, and condition, and which, I 
 fear, has given you offence." 
 
 " No offence whatever," replied Alice ; " but, good 
 woman, 1 am near home, and can excuse your farther 
 company. — You are unknown to me." 
 
 " But it follows not," said the stranger, "that your 
 fortunes may not be known to me, fair Mistress Alice. 
 Look on my swarthy brow — England breeds none such 
 — and in the lands from which I come, the sun which 
 blackens our complexion, pours, to make amends, rays of 
 knowledge into our brains, which are denied to those of 
 your lukewarm climate. Let me look upon your pretty 
 hand, — (attempting to possess herself of it,) — and 1 pro- 
 mise you, you shall hear what will please you." 
 
 " I hear what does not please me," said Alice with 
 dignity ; " you must carry your tricks of fortime-telling 
 and palmistry to the women of the village — We of the 
 gentry hold them to be either imposture or unlawful 
 knowledge." 
 
 " Yet you would fain hear of a certain Colonel, 1 war- 
 rant you, whom certa.ti i nhaj py circumstances hw^
 
 262 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 separated from his family ; you would give better than 
 f;ilver if I could assure you that you would see him in a 
 day or two — ay, perhaps, sooner." 
 
 " 1 know nothing of what you speak, good woman ; 
 if you want alms, there is a piece of silver — it is all 1 have 
 in my purse." 
 
 " It were a pity that I should take it," said the female ; 
 "and yet give it me — for the princess in the fairy tale 
 must ever deserve, by her generosity, the bounty of the 
 benevolent fairy before she is rewarded by her pro- 
 tection." 
 
 " Take it — take it — give me my pitcher," said Alice, 
 " and begone, yonder comes one of my father's servants. 
 — What, ho ! — Joceline — Joceline !" 
 
 The old fortune-teller hastily dropped something into 
 the pitcher as she restored it to Alice Lee, and, plying 
 her long limbs, disappeared speedily under cover of the 
 wood. 
 
 Bevis turned, and backed, and showed some inclina- 
 tion to harass the retreat of this suspicious person, yet, 
 as if uncertain, ran towards JolifFe, and fawned on him, 
 to demand his advice and encouragement. Joceline 
 pacified the animal, and, coming up to his young lady, 
 asked her, with surprise, what was the matter, and wheth- 
 er she had been f.ightened ? Alice made light of her 
 alarm, for which, indeed, she could not have assigned any 
 very competent reason ; for the manners of the woman, 
 though bold and intrusive, were not menacing. , She only 
 said she had met a fortune-teller by Rosamond's Well, 
 and had some difficulty in shaking her off. 
 
 " Ah, the gipsy thief," said Joceline, " how well she 
 scented there was food in the pantry ! — they have noses 
 like ravens these strollers. Look you, Mistress Alice, 
 you shall not see a raven or a carrion-crow in all the 
 blue sky for a mile round you ; but let a sheep drop sud- 
 denly down on the greensward, and before the poor crea- 
 ture's dead you shall see a dozen of such guests croak- 
 ing as if inviting each other to the banquet. — Just so it 
 is with these sturdy beg2;ars. You will see few enou h
 
 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 263 
 
 of them when there's nothing to give, but when hougii's 
 in the pot, tliey will have share on't." 
 
 " You are so proud of your fresh supply of provender," 
 said Alice, " that you suspect all ol a design on't. I 
 do not think this woman will venture near your kitchen, 
 Joceline." 
 
 "It will be best for her health," said Joceline, "lest 
 I give her a ducking for digestion. — But give me the 
 pitcher, JVJistress Alice — meeter J bear it than you. — 
 How now ^ what jingles at the bottom ? have you lifted 
 the pebbles as well as the water .''" 
 
 " I think the woman dropped something into the 
 pitcher," said Ahce. 
 
 " Nay we must look to that, for it is like to be a charm, 
 and we have enough of the devil's ware about Woodstock 
 already — we will not spare for the w ater — 1 can run back 
 and fill the pitcher." He poured out the water upon the 
 grass, and at the bottom of the pitcher was found a gold 
 ring, in which was set a ruby, appaiently of some value. 
 
 " Nay, if this be not enchantment, ! know not what is," 
 said Joceline. " Truly, Mistress Alice, I think you had 
 better throw away this gimcrack. Such gifts from such 
 hands are a kind of press- money which the devil uses 
 for enlisting his regiment of witches ; and if they take 
 but so much as a bean from him, they tiecome his bond 
 slaves for life — Ay, you look at the gew-gaw, but to-mor- 
 row you will find a lead ring and a common pebble in its 
 stead." 
 
 " Nay, Joceline, I think it will be better to find out that 
 dark-complexioned woman, and return to her what seems 
 of some value. So, cause inquiry to be made, and be 
 sure you return her ring. It seems too valuable to be 
 destroyed." 
 
 "Umph ! that is always the way with women," mur- 
 mured Joceline. " You will never get the best of them, 
 but she is willing to save a bit of finery. — Well, INlistress 
 Alice, I trust that you are too young and too pretty to be 
 enlisted in a regiment of witches."
 
 264 WOODSTOCK. 
 
 " I shall not be afraid of it till you turn conjuror," said 
 Alice ; " so hasten to the well, where you are like still 
 to find the woman, and let her know that Alice Lee de- 
 sires none of her gifts, any more than she did of her 
 society." 
 
 So saying, the young lady pursued her way to the 
 Lodge, while Joceline went down to Rosamond's Well 
 to execute her commission. But the fortune-teller, or 
 whoever she might be, was nowhere to be found ; neith- 
 er, finding that to be the case, did Joceline give himself 
 much trouble, in tracking her farther. 
 
 " If this ring, which I dare say the jade stole some- 
 where," said the under-keeper to himself, " be worth a 
 few nobles, it is better in honest hands than in that of 
 vagabonds. My master has a right to all waifs and 
 strays, and certainly such a ring, in possession of a gipsy, 
 must be a waif. So I shall confiscate it without scruple, 
 and apply the produce to the support of Sir Henry's 
 household, which is like to be poor enough. Thank 
 Heaven, my military experience has taught me how to 
 carry hooks at my finger-ends — that is trooper's law. 
 Yet hang it, after all, I had best take it to Mark Everard 
 and ask his advice — I hold him now to be your learned 
 counsellor in law where Mistress Alice's affairs are con- 
 cerned, and my learned Doctor, who shall be nameless, 
 for such as concern Church and State and Sir Henry 
 Lee — and I'll give them leave to give mine umbles to the 
 kites and ravens if they find me conferring my confi- 
 dence where it is not safe." 
 
 END OF VOLUME
 
 1 
 L 
 
 kit 
 dei-
 
 ■^■■:: ••.>•: