neighbour, I am going, at my lord and husband's command, to issue out
my warrants to invite the whole neighbourhood to a solemn feast at the
Castle, on Thursday next; and I not only pray you to be personally
present yourself, but to prevail on your worthy pastor, and such
neighbours and friends, high and low, as may think in your own way, to
meet with the rest of the neighbourhood, to rejoice on this joyful
occasion of the King's Restoration, and thereby to show that we are to
be henceforward a united people."
The parliamentarian Major was considerably embarrassed by this
proposal. He looked upward, and downward, and around, cast his eye
first to the oak-carved ceiling, and anon fixed it upon the floor;
then threw it around the room till it lighted on his child, the sight
of whom suggested another and a better train of reflections than
ceiling and floor had been able to supply.
"Madam," he said, "I have long been a stranger to festivity, perhaps
from constitutional melancholy, perhaps from the depression which is
natural to a desolate and deprived man, in whose ear mirth is marred,
like a pleasant air when performed on a mistuned instrument. But
though neither my thoughts nor temperament are Jovial or Mercurial, it
becomes me to be grateful to Heaven for the good He has sent me by the
means of your ladyship. David, the man after God's own heart, did wash
and eat bread when his beloved child was removed - mine is restored to
me, and shall I not show gratitude under a blessing, when he showed
resignation under an affliction? Madam, I will wait on your gracious
invitation with acceptance; and such of my friends with whom I may
possess influence, and whose presence your ladyship may desire, shall
accompany me to the festivity, that our Israel may be as one people."
Having spoken these words with an aspect which belonged more to a
martyr than to a guest bidden to a festival, and having kissed, and
solemnly blessed his little girl, Major Bridgenorth took his departure
for Moultrassie Hall.
CHAPTER III
Here's neither want of appetite nor mouths;
Pray Heaven we be not scant of meat or mirth!
- OLD PLAY.
Even upon ordinary occasions, and where means were ample, a great
entertainment in those days was not such a sinecure as in modern
times, when the lady who presides has but to intimate to her menials
the day and hour when she wills it to take place. At that simple
period, the lady was expected to enter deeply into the arrangement and
provision of the whole affair; and from a little gallery, which
communicated with her own private apartment, and looked down upon the
kitchen, her shrill voice was to be heard, from time to time, like
that of the warning spirit in a tempest, rising above the clash of
pots and stewpans - the creaking spits - the clattering of marrowbones
and cleavers - the scolding of cooks - and all the other various kinds
of din which form an accompaniment to dressing a large dinner.
But all this toil and anxiety was more than doubled in the case of the
approaching feast at Martindale Castle, where the presiding Genius of
the festivity was scarce provided with adequate means to carry her
hospitable purpose into effect. The tyrannical conduct of husbands, in
such cases, is universal; and I scarce know one householder of my
acquaintance who has not, on some ill-omened and most inconvenient
season, announced suddenly to his innocent helpmate, that he had
invited
"Some odious Major Rock,
To drop in at six o'clock,"
to the great discomposure of the lady, and the discredit, perhaps, of
her domestic arrangements.
Peveril of the Peak was still more thoughtless; for he had directed
his lady to invite the whole honest men of the neighbourhood to make
good cheer at Martindale Castle, in honour of the blessed Restoration
of his most sacred Majesty, without precisely explaining where the
provisions were to come from. The deer-park had lain waste ever since
the siege; the dovecot could do little to furnish forth such an
entertainment; the fishponds, it is true, were well provided (which
the neighbouring Presbyterians noted as a suspicious circumstance);
and game was to be had for the shooting, upon the extensive heaths and
hills of Derbyshire. But these were but the secondary parts of a
banquet; and the house-steward and bailiff, Lady Peveril's only
coadjutors and counsellors, could not agree how the butcher-meat - the
most substantial part, or, as it were, the main body of the
entertainment - was to be supplied. The house-steward threatened the
sacrifice of a fine yoke of young bullocks, which the bailiff, who
pleaded the necessity of their agricultural services, tenaciously
resisted; and Lady Peveril's good and dutiful nature did not prevent
her from making some impatient reflections on the want of
consideration of her absent Knight, who had thus thoughtlessly placed
her in so embarrassing a situation.
These reflections were scarcely just, if a man is only responsible for
such resolutions as he adopts when he is fully master of himself. Sir
Geoffrey's loyalty, like that of many persons in his situation, had,
by dint of hopes and fears, victories and defeats, struggles and
sufferings, all arising out of the same moving cause, and turning, as
it were, on the same pivot, acquired the character of an intense and
enthusiastic passion; and the singular and surprising change of
fortune, by which his highest wishes were not only gratified, but far
exceeded, occasioned for some time a kind of intoxication of loyal
rapture which seemed to pervade the whole kingdom. Sir Geoffrey had
seen Charles and his brothers, and had been received by the merry
monarch with that graceful, and at the same time frank urbanity, by
which he conciliated all who approached him; the Knight's services and
merits had been fully acknowledged, and recompense had been hinted at,
if not expressly promised. Was it for Peveril of the Peak, in the
jubilee of his spirits, to consider how his wife was to find beef and
mutton to feast his neighbours?
Luckily, however, for the embarrassed lady, there existed some one who
had composure of mind sufficient to foresee this difficulty. Just as
she had made up her mind, very reluctantly, to become debtor to Major
Bridgenorth for the sum necessary to carry her husband's commands into
effect, and whilst she was bitterly regretting this departure from the
strictness of her usual economy, the steward, who, by-the-bye, had not
been absolutely sober since the news of the King's landing at Dover,
burst into the apartment, snapping his fingers, and showing more marks
of delight than was quite consistent with the dignity of my lady's
large parlour.
"What means this, Whitaker?" said the lady, somewhat peevishly; for
she was interrupted in the commencement of a letter to her neighbour
on the unpleasant business of the proposed loan, - "Is it to be always
thus with you? - Are you dreaming?"
"A vision of good omen, I trust," said the steward, with a triumphant
flourish of the hand; "far better than Pharaoh's, though, like his, it
be of fat kine."
"I prithee be plain, man," said the lady, "or fetch some one who can
speak to purpose."
"Why, odds-my-life, madam," said the steward, "mine errand can speak
for itself. Do you not hear them low? Do you not hear them bleat? A
yoke of fat oxen, and half a score prime wethers. The Castle is
victualled for this bout, let them storm when they will; and Gatherill
may have his d - d mains ploughed to the boot."
The lady, without farther questioning her elated domestic, rose and
went to the window, where she certainly beheld the oxen and sheep
which had given rise to Whitaker's exultation. "Whence come they?"
said she, in some surprise.
"Let them construe that who can," answered Whitaker; "the fellow who
drove them was a west-country man, and only said they came from a
friend to help to furnish out your ladyship's entertainment; the man
would not stay to drink - I am sorry he would not stay to drink - I
crave your ladyship's pardon for not keeping him by the ears to drink
- it was not my fault."
"That I'll be sworn it was not," said the lady.
"Nay, madam, by G - , I assure you it was not," said the zealous
steward; "for, rather than the Castle should lose credit, I drank his
health myself in double ale, though I had had my morning draught
already. I tell you the naked truth, my lady, by G - !"
"It was no great compulsion, I suppose," said the lady; "but,
Whitaker, suppose you should show your joy on such occasions, by
drinking and swearing a little less, rather than a little more, would
it not be as well, think you?"
"I crave your ladyship's pardon," said Whitaker, with much reverence;
"I hope I know my place. I am your ladyship's poor servant; and I know
it does not become me to drink and swear like your ladyship - that is,
like his honour, Sir Geoffrey, I would say. But I pray you, if I am
not to drink and swear after my degree, how are men to know Peveril of
the Peak's steward, - and I may say butler too, since I have had the
keys of the cellar ever since old Spigots was shot dead on the
northwest turret, with a black jack in his hand, - I say, how is an old
Cavalier like me to be known from those cuckoldly Roundheads that do
nothing but fast and pray, if we are not to drink and swear according
to our degree?"
The lady was silent, for she well knew speech availed nothing; and,
after a moment's pause, proceeded to intimate to the steward that she
would have the persons, whose names were marked in a written paper,
which she delivered to him, invited to the approaching banquet.
Whitaker, instead of receiving the list with the mute acquiescence of
a modern Major Domo, carried it into the recess of one of the windows,
and, adjusting his spectacles, began to read it to himself. The first
names, being those of distinguished Cavalier families in the
neighbourhood, he muttered over in a tone of approbation - paused and
pshawed at that of Bridgenorth - yet acquiesced, with the observation,
"But he is a good neighbour, so it may pass for once." But when he
read the name and surname of Nehemiah Solsgrace, the Presbyterian
parson, Whitaker's patience altogether forsook him; and he declared he
would as soon throw himself into Eldon-hole,[*] as consent that the
intrusive old puritan howlet, who had usurped the pulpit of a sound
orthodox divine, should ever darken the gates of Martindale Castle by
any message or mediation of his.
[*] A chasm in the earth supposed to be unfathomable, one of the
wonders of the Peak.
"The false crop-eared hypocrites," cried he, with a hearty oath, "have
had their turn of the good weather. The sun is on our side of the
hedge now, and we will pay off old scores, as sure as my name is
Richard Whitaker."
"You presume on your long services, Whitaker, and on your master's
absence, or you had not dared to use me thus," said the lady.
The unwonted agitation of her voice attracted the attention of the
refractory steward, notwithstanding his present state of elevation;
but he no sooner saw that her eye glistened, and her cheek reddened,
than his obstinacy was at once subdued.
"A murrain on me," he said, "but I have made my lady angry in good
earnest! and that is an unwonted sight for to see. - I crave your
pardon, my lady! It was not poor Dick Whitaker disputed your
honourable commands, but only that second draught of double ale. We
have put a double stroke of malt to it, as your ladyship well knows,
ever since the happy Restoration. To be sure I hate a fanatic as I do
the cloven foot of Satan; but then your honourable ladyship hath a
right to invite Satan himself, cloven foot and all, to Martindale
Castle; and to send me to hell's gate with a billet of invitation - and
so your will shall be done."
The invitations were sent round accordingly, in all due form; and one
of the bullocks was sent down to be roasted whole at the market-place
of a little village called Martindale-Moultrassie, which stood
considerably to the eastward both of the Castle and Hall, from which
it took its double name, at about an equal distance from both; so
that, suppose a line drawn from the one manor-house to the other, to
be the base of a triangle, the village would have occupied the salient
angle. As the said village, since the late transference of a part of
Peveril's property, belonged to Sir Geoffrey and to Bridgenorth in
nearly equal portions, the lady judged it not proper to dispute the
right of the latter to add some hogsheads of beer to the popular
festivity.
In the meanwhile, she could not but suspect the Major of being the
unknown friend who had relieved her from the dilemma arising from the
want of provisions; and she esteemed herself happy when a visit from
him, on the day preceding the proposed entertainment, gave her, as she
thought, an opportunity of expressing her gratitude.
CHAPTER IV
No, sir - I will not pledge - I'm one of those
Who think good wine needs neither bush nor preface
To make it welcome. If you doubt my word,
Fill the quart-cup, and see if I will choke on't.
- OLD PLAY.
There was a serious gravity of expression in the disclamation with
which Major Bridgenorth replied to the thanks tendered to him by Lady
Peveril, for the supply of provisions which had reached her Castle so
opportunely. He seemed first not to be aware what she alluded to; and,
when she explained the circumstance, he protested so seriously that he
had no share in the benefit conferred, that Lady Peveril was compelled
to believe him, the rather that, being a man of plain downright
character, affecting no refined delicacy of sentiment, and practising
almost a quaker-like sincerity of expression, it would have been much
contrary to his general character to have made such a disavowal,
unless it were founded in truth.
"My present visit to you, madam," said he, "had indeed some reference
to the festivity of to-morrow." Lady Peveril listened, but as her
visitor seemed to find some difficulty in expressing himself, she was
compelled to ask an explanation. "Madam," said the Major, "you are not
perhaps entirely ignorant that the more tender-conscienced among us
have scruples at certain practices, so general amongst your people at
times of rejoicing, that you may be said to insist upon them as
articles of faith, or at least greatly to resent their omission."
"I trust, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, not fully
comprehending the drift of his discourse, "that we shall, as your
entertainers, carefully avoid all allusions or reproaches founded on
past misunderstanding."
"We would expect no less, madam, from your candour and courtesy," said
Bridgenorth; "but I perceive you do not fully understand me. To be
plain, then, I allude to the fashion of drinking healths, and pledging
each other in draughts of strong liquor, which most among us consider
as a superfluous and sinful provoking of each other to debauchery, and
the excessive use of strong drink; and which, besides, if derived, as
learned divines have supposed, from the custom of the blinded Pagans,
who made libations and invoked idols when they drank, may be justly
said to have something in it heathenish, and allied to demon-worship."
The lady had already hastily considered all the topics which were
likely to introduce discord into the proposed festivity; but this very
ridiculous, yet fatal discrepancy, betwixt the manners of the parties
on convivial occasions, had entirely escaped her. She endeavoured to
soothe the objecting party, whose brows were knit like one who had
fixed an opinion by which he was determined to abide.
"I grant," she said, "my good neighbour, that this custom is at least
idle, and may be prejudicial if it leads to excess in the use of
liquor, which is apt enough to take place without such conversation.
But I think, when it hath not this consequence, it is a thing
indifferent, affords a unanimous mode of expressing our good wishes to
our friends, and our loyal duty to our sovereign; and, without meaning
to put any force upon the inclination of those who believe otherwise,
I cannot see how I can deny my guests and friends the privilege of
drinking a health to the King, or to my husband, after the old English
fashion."
"My lady," said the Major, "if the age of fashion were to command it,
Popery is one of the oldest English fashions that I have heard of; but
it is our happiness that we are not benighted like our fathers, and
therefore we must act according to the light that is in us, and not
after their darkness. I had myself the honour to attend the Lord-
Keeper Whitelocke, when, at the table of the Chamberlain of the
kingdom of Sweden, he did positively refuse to pledge the health of
his Queen, Christina, thereby giving great offence, and putting in
peril the whole purpose of that voyage; which it is not to be thought
so wise a man would have done, but that he held such compliance a
thing not merely indifferent, but rather sinful and damnable."
"With all respect to Whitelocke," said the Lady Peveril, "I continue
of my own opinion, though, Heaven knows, I am no friend to riot or
wassail. I would fain accommodate myself to your scruples, and will
discourage all other pledges; but surely those of the King and of
Peveril of the Peak may be permitted?"
"I dare not," answered Bridgenorth, "lay even the ninety-ninth part of
a grain of incense upon an altar erected to Satan."
"How, sir!" said the lady; "do you bring Satan into comparison with
our master King Charles, and with my noble lord and husband?"
"Pardon me, madam," answered Bridgenorth, "I have no such thoughts -
indeed they would ill become me. I do wish the King's health and Sir
Geoffrey's devoutly, and I will pray for both. But I see not what good
it should do their health if I should prejudice my own by quaffing
pledges out of quart flagons."
"Since we cannot agree upon this matter," said Lady Peveril, "we must
find some resource by which to offend those of neither party. Suppose
you winked at our friends drinking these pledges, and we should
connive at your sitting still?"
But neither would this composition satisfy Bridgenorth, who was of
opinion, as he expressed himself, that it would be holding a candle to
Beelzebub. In fact, his temper, naturally stubborn, was at present
rendered much more so by a previous conference with his preacher, who,
though a very good man in the main, was particularly and illiberally
tenacious of the petty distinctions which his sect adopted; and while
he thought with considerable apprehension on the accession of power
which Popery, Prelacy, and Peveril of the Peak, were like to acquire
by the late Revolution, became naturally anxious to put his flock on
their guard, and prevent their being kidnapped by the wolf. He
disliked extremely that Major Bridgenorth, indisputably the head of
the Presbyterian interest in that neighbourhood, should have given his
only daughter to be, as he termed it, nursed by a Canaanitish woman;
and he told him plainly that he liked not this going to feast in the
high places with the uncircumcised in heart, and looked on the whole
conviviality only as a making-merry in the house of Tirzah.
Upon receiving this rebuke from his pastor, Bridgenorth began to
suspect he might have been partly wrong in the readiness which, in his
first ardour of gratitude, he had shown to enter into intimate
intercourse with the Castle of Martindale; but he was too proud to
avow this to the preacher, and it was not till after a considerable
debate betwixt them, that it was mutually agreed their presence at the
entertainment should depend upon the condition, that no healths or
pledges should be given in their presence. Bridgenorth, therefore, as
the delegate and representative of his party, was bound to stand firm
against all entreaty, and the lady became greatly embarrassed. She now
regretted sincerely that her well-intended invitation had ever been
given, for she foresaw that its rejection was to awaken all former
subjects of quarrel, and perhaps to lead to new violences amongst
people who had not many years since been engaged in civil war. To
yield up the disputed point to the Presbyterians, would have been to
offend the Cavalier party, and Sir Geoffrey in particular, in the most
mortal degree; for they made it as firm a point of honour to give
healths, and compel others to pledge them, as the Puritans made it a
deep article of religion to refuse both. At length the lady changed
the discourse, introduced that of Major Bridgenorth's child, caused it
to be sent for, and put into his arms. The mother's stratagem took
effect; for, though the parliamentary major stood firm, the father, as
in the case of the Governor of Tilbury, was softened, and he agreed
that his friends should accept a compromise. This was, that the major
himself, the reverend divine, and such of their friends as held strict
Puritan tenets, should form a separate party in the Large Parlour,
while the Hall should be occupied by the jovial Cavaliers; and that
each party should regulate their potations after their own conscience,
or after their own fashion.
Major Bridgenorth himself seemed greatly relieved after this important
matter had been settled. He had held it matter of conscience to be
stubborn in maintaining his own opinion, but was heartily glad when he
escaped from the apparently inevitable necessity of affronting Lady
Peveril by the refusal of her invitation. He remained longer than
usual, and spoke and smiled more than was his custom. His first care
on his return was to announce to the clergyman and his congregation
the compromise which he had made, and this not as a matter for
deliberation, but one upon which he had already resolved; and such was
his authority among them, that though the preacher longed to pronounce
a separation of the parties, and to exclaim - "To your tents, O
Israel!" he did not see the chance of being seconded by so many, as
would make it worth while to disturb the unanimous acquiescence in
their delegate's proposal.
Nevertheless, each party being put upon the alert by the consequences
of Major Bridgenorth's embassy, so many points of doubt and delicate
discussion were started in succession, that the Lady Peveril, the only
person, perhaps, who was desirous of achieving an effectual
reconciliation between them, incurred, in reward for her good
intentions, the censure of both factions, and had much reason to
regret her well-meant project of bringing the Capulets and Montagues
of Derbyshire together on the same occasion of public festivity.
As it was now settled that the guests were to form two different
parties, it became not only a subject of dispute betwixt themselves,
which should be first admitted within the Castle of Martindale, but
matter of serious apprehension to Lady Peveril and Major Bridgenorth,
lest, if they were to approach by the same avenue and entrance, a
quarrel might take place betwixt them, and proceed to extremities,
even before they reached the place of entertainment. The lady believed
she had discovered an admirable expedient for preventing the
possibility of such interference, by directing that the Cavaliers
should be admitted by the principal entrance, while the Roundheads
should enter the Castle through a great breach which had been made in
the course of the siege, and across which there had been made a sort
of by-path to drive the cattle down to their pasture in the wood. By
this contrivance the Lady Peveril imagined she had altogether avoided
the various risks which might occur from two such parties encountering
each other, and disputing for precedence. Several other circumstances
of less importance were adjusted at the same time, and apparently so
much to the satisfaction of the Presbyterian teacher, that, in a long
lecture on the subject of the Marriage Garment, he was at the pains to
explain to his hearers, that outward apparel was not alone meant by
that scriptural expression, but also a suitable frame of mind for
enjoyment of peaceful festivity; and therefore he exhorted the
brethren, that whatever might be the errors of the poor blinded
malignants, with whom they were in some sort to eat and drink upon the
morrow they ought not on this occasion to show any evil will against
them, lest they should therein become troublers of the peace of
Israel.
Honest Doctor Dummerar, the elected Episcopal Vicar of Martindale
/cum/ Moultrassie, preached to the Cavaliers on the same subject. He
had served the cure before the breaking out of the rebellion, and was
in high favour with Sir Geoffrey, not merely on account of his sound
orthodoxy and deep learning, but his exquisite skill in playing at
bowls, and his facetious conversation over a pipe and tankard of
October. For these latter accomplishments, the Doctor had the honour
to be recorded by old Century White amongst the roll of lewd,
incompetent, profligate clergymen of the Church of England, whom he
denounced to God and man, on account chiefly of the heinous sin of
playing at games of skill and chance, and of occasionally joining in
the social meetings of their parishioners. When the King's party began
to lose ground, Doctor Dummerar left his vicarage, and, betaking
himself to the camp, showed upon several occasions, when acting as
chaplain to Sir Geoffrey Peveril's regiment, that his portly bodily
presence included a stout and masculine heart. When all was lost, and
he himself, with most other loyal divines, was deprived of his living,
he made such shift as he could; now lurking in the garrets of old
friends in the University, who shared with him, and such as him, the
slender means of livelihood which the evil times had left them; and
now lying hid in the houses of the oppressed and sequestered gentry,
who respected at once his character and sufferings. When the
Restoration took place, Doctor Dummerar emerged from some one of his
hiding-places, and hied him to Martindale Castle, to enjoy the triumph
inseparable from this happy change.
His appearance at the Castle in his full clerical dress, and the warm
reception which he received from the neighbouring gentry, added not a
little to the alarm which was gradually extending itself through the
party which were so lately the uppermost. It is true, Doctor Dummerar
framed (honest worthy man) no extravagant views of elevation or
preferment; but the probability of his being replaced in the living,
from which he had been expelled under very flimsy pretences, inferred
a severe blow to the Presbyterian divine, who could not be considered
otherwise than as an intruder. The interest of the two preachers,
therefore, as well as the sentiments of their flocks, were at direct
variance; and here was another fatal objection in the way of Lady
Peveril's scheme of a general and comprehensive healing ordinance.
Nevertheless, as we have already hinted, Doctor Dummerar behaved as
handsomely upon the occasion as the Presbyterian incumbent had done.
It is true, that in a sermon which he preached in the Castle hall to
several of the most distinguished Cavalier families, besides a world
of boys from the village, who went to see the novel circumstance of a
parson in a cassock and surplice, he went at great length into the
foulness of the various crimes committed by the rebellious party
during the late evil times, and greatly magnified the merciful and
peaceful nature of the honourable Lady of the Manor, who condescended
to look upon, or receive into her house in the way of friendship and
hospitality, men holding the principles which had led to the murder of
the King - the slaying and despoiling his loyal subjects - and the
plundering and breaking down of the Church of God. But then he wiped
all this handsomely up again, with the observation, that since it was
the will of their gracious and newly-restored Sovereign, and the
pleasure of the worshipful Lady Peveril, that this contumacious and
rebellious race should be, for a time, forborne by their faithful
subjects, it would be highly proper that all the loyal liegemen
should, for the present, eschew subjects of dissension or quarrel with
these sons of Shimei; which lesson of patience he enforced by the
comfortable assurance, that they could not long abstain from their old
rebellious practices; in which case, the Royalists would stand
exculpated before God and man, in extirpating them from the face of
the earth.
The close observers of the remarkable passages of the times from which
we draw the events of our history, have left it upon record, that
these two several sermons, much contrary, doubtless, to the intention
of the worthy divines by whom they were delivered, had a greater
effect in exasperating, than in composing, the disputes betwixt the
two factions. Under such evil auspices, and with corresponding
forebodings on the mind of Lady Peveril, the day of festivity at
length arrived.
By different routes, and forming each a sort of procession, as if the
adherents of each party were desirous of exhibiting its strength and
numbers, the two several factions approached Martindale Castle; and so
distinct did they appear in dress, aspect, and manners, that it seemed
as if the revellers of a bridal party, and the sad attendants upon a
funeral solemnity, were moving towards the same point from different
quarters.
The puritanical party was by far the fewer in numbers, for which two
excellent reasons might be given. In the first place, they had enjoyed
power for several years, and, of course, became unpopular among the
common people, never at any time attached to those, who, being in the
immediate possession of authority, are often obliged to employ it in
controlling their humours. Besides, the country people of England had,
and still have, an animated attachment to field sports, and a natural
unrestrained joviality of disposition, which rendered them impatient
under the severe discipline of the fanatical preachers; while they
were not less naturally discontented with the military despotism of
Cromwell's Major-Generals. Secondly, the people were fickle as usual,
and the return of the King had novelty in it, and was therefore
popular. The side of the Puritans was also deserted at this period by
a numerous class of more thinking and prudential persons, who never
forsook them till they became unfortunate. These sagacious personages
were called in that age the Waiters upon Providence, and deemed it a
high delinquency towards Heaven if they afforded countenance to any
cause longer than it was favoured by fortune.
But, though thus forsaken by the fickle and the selfish, a solemn
enthusiasm, a stern and determined depth of principle, a confidence in
the sincerity of their own motives, and the manly English pride which
inclined them to cling to their former opinions, like the traveller in
the fable to his cloak, the more strongly that the tempest blew around
them, detained in the ranks of the Puritans many, who, if no longer
formidable from numbers, were still so from their character. They
consisted chiefly of the middling gentry, with others whom industry or
successful speculations in commerce or in mining had raised into
eminence - the persons who feel most umbrage from the overshadowing
aristocracy, and are usually the most vehement in defence of what they
hold to be their rights. Their dress was in general studiously simple
and unostentatious, or only remarkable by the contradictory
affectation of extreme simplicity or carelessness. The dark colour of
their cloaks, varying from absolute black to what was called sad-
coloured - their steeple-crowned hats, with their broad shadowy brims -
their long swords, suspended by a simple strap around the loins,
without shoulder-belt, sword-knot, plate, buckles, or any of the other
decorations with which the Cavaliers loved to adorn their trusty
rapiers, - the shortness of their hair, which made their ears appear of
disproportioned size, - above all, the stern and gloomy gravity of
their looks, announced their belonging to that class of enthusiasts,
who, resolute and undismayed, had cast down the former fabric of
government, and who now regarded with somewhat more than suspicion,
that which had been so unexpectedly substituted in its stead. There
was gloom in their countenances; but it was not that of dejection, far
less of despair. They looked like veterans after a defeat, which may
have checked their career and wounded their pride, but has left their
courage undiminished.
The melancholy, now become habitual, which overcast Major
Bridgenorth's countenance, well qualified him to act as the chief of
the group who now advanced from the village. When they reached the
point by which they were first to turn aside into the wood which
surrounded the Castle, they felt a momentary impression of
degradation, as if they were yielding the high road to their old and
oft-defeated enemies the Cavaliers. When they began to ascend the
winding path, which had been the daily passage of the cattle, the
opening of the wooded glade gave them a view of the Castle ditch, half
choked with the rubbish of the breach, and of the breach itself, which
was made at the angle of a large square flanking-tower, one-half of
which had been battered into ruins, while the other fragment remained
in a state strangely shattered and precarious, and seemed to be
tottering above the huge aperture in the wall. A stern still smile was
exchanged among the Puritans, as the sight reminded them of the
victories of former days. Holdfast Clegg, a millwright of Derby, who
had been himself active at the siege, pointed to the breach, and said,
with a grim smile to Mr. Solsgrace, "I little thought, that when my
own hand helped to level the cannon which Oliver pointed against yon
tower, we should have been obliged to climb like foxes up the very
walls which we won by our bow and by our spear. Methought these
malignants had then enough of shutting their gates and making high
their horn against us."
"Be patient, my brother," said Solsgrace; "be patient, and let not thy
soul be disquieted. We enter not this high place dishonourably, seeing
we ascend by the gate which the Lord opened to the godly."
The words of the pastor were like a spark to gunpowder. The
countenances of the mournful retinue suddenly expanded, and, accepting
what had fallen from him as an omen and a light from heaven how they
were to interpret their present situation, they uplifted, with one
consent, one of the triumphant songs in which the Israelites
celebrated the victories which had been vouchsafed to them over the
heathen inhabitants of the Promised Land: -
"Let God arise, and then His foes
Shall turn themselves to flight,
His enemies for fear shall run,
And scatter out of sight;
And as wax melts before the fire,
And wind blows smoke away,
So in the presence of the Lord,
The wicked shall decay.
God's army twenty thousand is,
Of angels bright and strong,
The Lord also in Sinai
Is present them among.
Thou didst, O Lord, ascend on high,
And captive led'st them all,
Who, in times past, Thy chosen flock
In bondage did enthral."
These sounds of devotional triumph reached the joyous band of the
Cavaliers, who, decked in whatever pomp their repeated misfortunes and
impoverishment had left them, were moving towards the same point,
though by a different road, and were filling the principal avenue to
the Castle, with tiptoe mirth and revelry. The two parties were
strongly contrasted; for, during that period of civil dissension, the
manners of the different factions distinguished them as completely as
separate uniforms might have done. If the Puritan was affectedly plain
in his dress, and ridiculously precise in his manners, the Cavalier
often carried his love of ornament into tawdry finery, and his
contempt of hypocrisy into licentious profligacy. Gay gallant fellows,
young and old, thronged together towards the ancient Castle, with
general and joyous manifestation of those spirits, which, as they had
been buoyant enough to support their owners during the worst of times,
as they termed Oliver's usurpation, were now so inflated as to
transport them nearly beyond the reach of sober reason. Feathers
waved, lace glittered, spears jingled, steeds caracoled; and here and
there a petronel, or pistol, was fired off by some one, who found his
own natural talents for making a noise inadequate to the dignity of
the occasion. Boys - for, as we said before, the rabble were with the
uppermost party, as usual - halloo'd and whooped, "Down with the Rump,"
and "Fie upon Oliver!" Musical instruments, of as many different
fashions as were then in use, played all at once, and without any
regard to each other's tune; and the glee of the occasion, while it
reconciled the pride of the high-born of the party to fraternise with
the general rout, derived an additional zest from the conscious
triumph, that their exultation was heard by their neighbours, the
crestfallen Roundheads.
When the loud and sonorous swell of the psalm-tune, multiplied by all
the echoes of the cliffs and ruinous halls, came full upon their ear,
as if to warn them how little they were to reckon upon the depression
of their adversaries, at first it was answered with a scornful laugh,
raised to as much height as the scoffers' lungs would permit, in order
that it might carry to the psalmodists the contempt of their auditors;
but this was a forced exertion of party spleen. There is something in
melancholy feelings more natural to an imperfect and suffering state
than in those of gaiety, and when they are brought into collision, the
former seldom fail to triumph. If a funeral-train and wedding-
procession were to meet unexpectedly, it will readily be allowed that
the mirth of the last would be speedily merged in the gloom of the
others. But the Cavaliers, moreover, had sympathies of a different
kind. The psalm-tune, which now came rolling on their ear, had been
heard too often, and upon too many occasions had preceded victory
gained over the malignants, to permit them, even in their triumph, to
hear it without emotion. There was a sort of pause, of which the party
themselves seemed rather ashamed, until the silence was broken by the
stout old knight, Sir Jasper Cranbourne, whose gallantry was so
universally acknowledged, that he could afford, if we may use such an
expression, to confess emotions, which men whose courage was in any
respect liable to suspicion, would have thought it imprudent to
acknowledge.
"Adad," said the old Knight, "may I never taste claret again, if that
is not the very tune with which the prick-eared villains began their
onset at Wiggan Lane, where they trowled us down like so many
ninepins! Faith, neighbours, to say truth, and shame the devil, I did
not like the sound of it above half."
"If I thought the round-headed rogues did it in scorn of us," said
Dick Wildblood of the Dale, "I would cudgel their psalmody out of
their peasantly throats with this very truncheon;" a motion which,
being seconded by old Roger Raine, the drunken tapster of the Peveril