Lance had, after the first shock, sustained a very easy part in this
recontre; for all he had to do, was to point the butt of his whip, in
the manner of a gun, at the intimidated Frenchman, who, lying on his
back, and gazing at random on the skies, had as little the power or
purpose of resistance, as any pig which had ever come under his own
slaughter-knife.
Summoned by his master from the easy duty of guarding such an
unresisting prisoner, Lance remounted his horse, and they both rode
off, leaving their discomfited antagonists to console themselves for
their misadventure as they best could. But consolation was hard to
come by in the circumstances. The French artist had to lament the
dispersion of his spices, and the destruction of his magazine of
sauces - an enchanter despoiled of his magic wand and talisman, could
scarce have been in more desperate extremity. Chiffinch had to mourn
the downfall of his intrigue, and its premature discovery. "To this
fellow, at least," he thought, "I can have bragged none - here my evil
genius alone has betrayed me. With this infernal discovery, which may
cost me so dear on all hands, champagne had nought to do. If there be
a flask left unbroken, I will drink it after dinner, and try if it may
not even yet suggest some scheme of redemption and of revenge."
With this manly resolution, he prosecuted his journey to London.
CHAPTER XXVIII
A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome;
Stiff in opinions - always in the wrong -
Was everything by starts, but nothing long;
Who, in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon;
Then, all for women, painting, fiddling, drinking;
Besides a thousand freaks that died in thinking.
- DRYDEN.
We must now transport the reader to the magnificent hotel in - -
Street, inhabited at this time by the celebrated George Villiers, Duke
of Buckingham, whom Dryden has doomed to a painful immortality by the
few lines which we have prefixed to this chapter. Amid the gay and
licentious of the laughing Court of Charles, the Duke was the most
licentious and most gay; yet, while expending a princely fortune, a
strong constitution, and excellent talents, in pursuit of frivolous
pleasures, he nevertheless nourished deeper and more extensive
designs; in which he only failed from want of that fixed purpose and
regulated perseverance essential to all important enterprises, but
particularly in politics.
It was long past noon; and the usual hour of the Duke's levee - if
anything could be termed usual where all was irregular - had been long
past. His hall was filled with lackeys and footmen, in the most
splendid liveries; the interior apartments, with the gentlemen and
pages of his household, arrayed as persons of the first quality, and,
in that respect, rather exceeding than falling short of the Duke in
personal splendour. But his antechamber, in particular, might be
compared to a gathering of eagles to the slaughter, were not the
simile too dignified to express that vile race, who, by a hundred
devices all tending to one common end, live upon the wants of needy
greatness, or administer to the pleasures of summer-teeming luxury, or
stimulate the wild wishes of lavish and wasteful extravagance, by
devising new modes and fresh motives of profusion. There stood the
projector, with his mysterious brow, promising unbounded wealth to
whomsoever might choose to furnish the small preliminary sum necessary
to change egg-shells into the great /arcanum/. There was Captain
Seagull, undertaker for a foreign settlement, with the map under his
arm of Indian or American kingdoms, beautiful as the primitive Eden,
waiting the bold occupants, for whom a generous patron should equip
two brigantines and a fly-boat. Thither came, fast and frequent, the
gamesters, in their different forms and calling. This, light, young,
gay in appearance, the thoughtless youth of wit and pleasure - the
pigeon rather than the rook - but at heart the same sly, shrewd, cold-
blooded calculator, as yonder old hard-featured professor of the same
science, whose eyes are grown dim with watching of the dice at
midnight; and whose fingers are even now assisting his mental
computation of chances and of odds. The fine arts, too - I would it
were otherwise - have their professors amongst this sordid train. The
poor poet, half ashamed, in spite of habit, of the part which he is
about to perform, and abashed by consciousness at once of his base
motive and his shabby black coat, lurks in yonder corner for the
favourable moment to offer his dedication. Much better attired, the
architect presents his splendid vision of front and wings, and designs
a palace, the expense of which may transfer his employer to a jail.
But uppermost of all, the favourite musician, or singer, who waits on
my lord to receive, in solid gold, the value of the dulcet sounds
which solaced the banquet of the preceding evening.
Such, and many such like, were the morning attendants of the Duke of
Buckingham - all genuine descendants of the daughter of the horse-
leech, whose cry is "Give, give."
But the levee of his Grace contained other and very different
characters; and was indeed as various as his own opinions and
pursuits. Besides many of the young nobility and wealthy gentry of
England, who made his Grace the glass at which they dressed themselves
for the day, and who learned from him how to travel, with the newest
and best grace, the general Road to Ruin; there were others of a
graver character - discarded statesmen, political spies, opposition
orators, servile tools of administration, men who met not elsewhere,
but who regarded the Duke's mansion as a sort of neutral ground; sure,
that if he was not of their opinion to-day, this very circumstance
rendered it most likely he should think with them to-morrow. The
Puritans themselves did not shun intercourse with a man whose talents
must have rendered him formidable, even if they had not been united
with high rank and an immense fortune. Several grave personages, with
black suits, short cloaks, and band-strings of a formal cut, were
mingled, as we see their portraits in a gallery of paintings, among
the gallants who ruffled in silk and embroidery. It is true, they
escaped the scandal of being thought intimates of the Duke, by their
business being supposed to refer to money matters. Whether these grave
and professing citizens mixed politics with money lending, was not
known; but it had been long observed, that the Jews, who in general
confine themselves to the latter department, had become for some time
faithful attendants at the Duke's levee.
It was high-tide in the antechamber, and had been so for more than an
hour, ere the Duke's gentleman-in-ordinary ventured into his
bedchamber, carefully darkened, so as to make midnight at noonday, to
know his Grace's pleasure. His soft and serene whisper, in which he
asked whether it were his Grace's pleasure to rise, was briefly and
sharply answered by the counter questions, "Who waits? - What's
o'clock?"
"It is Jerningham, your Grace," said the attendant. "It is one,
afternoon; and your Grace appointed some of the people without at
eleven."
"Who are they? - What do they want?"
"A message from Whitehall, your Grace."
"Pshaw! it will keep cold. Those who make all others wait, will be the
better of waiting in their turn. Were I to be guilty of ill-breeding,
it should rather be to a king than a beggar."
"The gentlemen from the city."
"I am tired of them - tired of their all cant, and no religion - all
Protestantism, and no charity. Tell them to go to Shaftesbury - to
Aldersgate Street with them - that's the best market for their wares."
"Jockey, my lord, from Newmarket."
"Let him ride to the devil - he has horse of mine, and spurs of his
own. Any more?"
"The whole antechamber is full, my lord - knights and squires, doctors
and dicers."
"The dicers, with their doctors[*] in their pockets, I presume."
[*] Doctor, a cant name for false dice.
"Counts, captains, and clergymen."
"You are alliterative, Jerningham," said the Duke; "and that is a
proof you are poetical. Hand me my writing things."
Getting half out of bed - thrusting one arm into a brocade nightgown,
deeply furred with sables, and one foot into a velvet slipper, while
the other pressed in primitive nudity the rich carpet - his Grace,
without thinking farther on the assembly without, began to pen a few
lines of a satirical poem; then suddenly stopped - threw the pen into
the chimney - exclaimed that the humour was past - and asked his
attendant if there were any letters. Jerningham produced a huge
packet.
"What the devil!" said his Grace, "do you think I will read all these?
I am like Clarence, who asked a cup of wine, and was soused into a
butt of sack. I mean, is there anything which presses?"
"This letter, your Grace," said Jerningham, "concerning the Yorkshire
mortgage."
"Did I not bid thee carry it to old Gatheral, my steward?"
"I did, my lord," answered the other; "but Gatheral says there are
difficulties."
"Let the usurers foreclose, then - there is no difficulty in that; and
out of a hundred manors I shall scarce miss one," answered the Duke.
"And hark ye, bring me my chocolate."
"Nay, my lord, Gatheral does not say it is impossible - only
difficult."
"And what is the use of him, if he cannot make it easy? But you are
all born to make difficulties," replied the Duke.
"Nay, if your Grace approves the terms in this schedule, and pleases
to sign it, Gatheral will undertake for the matter," answered
Jerningham.
"And could you not have said so at first, you blockhead?" said the
Duke, signing the paper without looking at the contents - "What other
letters? And remember, I must be plagued with no more business."
"Billets-doux, my lord - five or six of them. This left at the porter's
lodge by a vizard mask."
"Pshaw!" answered the Duke, tossing them over, while his attendant
assisted in dressing him - "an acquaintance of a quarter's standing."
"This given to one of the pages by my Lady - - 's waiting-woman."
"Plague on it - a Jeremiade on the subject of perjury and treachery,
and not a single new line to the old tune," said the Duke, glancing
over the billet. "Here is the old cant - /cruel man - broken vows -
Heaven's just revenge/. Why, the woman is thinking of murder - not of
love. No one should pretend to write upon so threadbare a topic
without having at least some novelty of expression. /The despairing
Araminta/ - Lie there, fair desperate. And this - how comes it?"
"Flung into the window of the hall, by a fellow who ran off at full
speed," answered Jerningham.
"This is a better text," said the Duke; "and yet it is an old one too
- three weeks old at least - The little Countess with the jealous lord
- I should not care a farthing for her, save for that same jealous
lord - Plague on't, and he's gone down to the country - /this evening -
in silence and safety - written with a quill pulled from the wing of
Cupid/ - Your ladyship has left him pen-feathers enough to fly away
with - better clipped his wings when you had caught him, my lady - And
/so confident of her Buckingham's faith/, - I hate confidence in a
young person. She must be taught better - I will not go."
"You Grace will not be so cruel!" said Jerningham.
"Thou art a compassionate fellow, Jerningham; but conceit must be
punished."
"But if your lordship should resume your fancy for her?"
"Why, then, you must swear the billet-doux miscarried," answered the
Duke. "And stay, a thought strikes me - it shall miscarry in great
style. Hark ye - Is - what is the fellow's name - the poet - is he
yonder?"
"There are six gentlemen, sir, who, from the reams of paper in their
pocket, and the threadbare seams at their elbows, appear to wear the
livery of the Muses."
"Poetical once more, Jerningham. He, I mean, who wrote the last
lampoon," said the Duke.
"To whom your Grace said you owed five pieces and a beating!" replied
Jerningham.
"The money for his satire, and the cudgel for his praise - Good - find
him - give him the five pieces, and thrust the Countess's billet-doux -
Hold - take Araminta's and the rest of them - thrust them all into his
portfolio - All will come out at the Wit's Coffee-house; and if the
promulgator be not cudgelled into all the colours of the rainbow,
there is no spite in woman, no faith in crabtree, or pith in heart of
oak - Araminta's wrath alone would overburden one pair of mortal
shoulders."
"But, my Lord Duke," said his attendant, "this Settle[*] is so dull a
rascal, that nothing he can write will take."
[*] Elkana Settle, the unworthy scribbler whom the envy of Rochester
and others tried to raise to public estimation, as a rival to
Dryden; a circumstance which has been the means of elevating him
to a very painful species of immortality.
"Then as we have given him steel to head the arrow," said the Duke,
"we will give him wings to waft it with - wood, he has enough of his
own to make a shaft or bolt of. Hand me my own unfinished lampoon -
give it to him with the letters - let him make what he can of them
all."
"My Lord Duke - I crave pardon - but your Grace's style will be
discovered; and though the ladies' names are not at the letters, yet
they will be traced."
"I would have it so, you blockhead. Have you lived with me so long,
and cannot discover that the éclat of an intrigue is, with me, worth
all the rest of it?"
"But the danger, my Lord Duke?" replied Jerningham. "There are
husbands, brothers, friends, whose revenge may be awakened."
"And beaten to sleep again," said Buckingham haughtily. "I have Black
Will and his cudgel for plebeian grumblers; and those of quality I can
deal with myself. I lack breathing and exercise of late."
"But yet your Grace - - "
"Hold your peace, fool! I tell you that your poor dwarfish spirit
cannot measure the scope of mine. I tell thee I would have the course
of my life a torrent - I am weary of easy achievements, and wish for
obstacles, that I can sweep before my irresistible course."
Another gentleman now entered the apartment. "I humbly crave your
Grace's pardon," he said; "but Master Christian is so importunate for
admission instantly, that I am obliged to take your Grace's pleasure."
"Tell him to call three hours hence. Damn his politic pate, that would
make all men dance after his pipe!"
"I thank thee for the compliment, my Lord Duke," said Christian,
entering the apartment in somewhat a more courtly garb, but with the
same unpretending and undistinguished mien, and in the same placid and
indifferent manner with which he had accosted Julian Peveril upon
different occasions during his journey to London. "It is precisely my
present object to pipe to you; and you may dance to your own profit,
if you will."
"On my word, Master Christian," said the Duke haughtily, "the affair
should be weighty, that removes ceremony so entirely from betwixt us.
If it relates to the subject of our last conversation, I must request
our interview be postponed to some farther opportunity. I am engaged
in an affair of some weight." Then turning his back on Christian, he
went on with his conversation with Jerningham. "Find the person you
wot of, and give him the papers; and hark ye, give him this gold to
pay for the shaft of his arrow - the steel-head and peacock's wing we
have already provided."
"This is all well, my lord," said Christian calmly, and taking his
seat at the same time in an easy-chair at some distance; "but your
Grace's levity is no match for my equanimity. It is necessary I should
speak with you; and I will await your Grace's leisure in the
apartment."
"/Very well/, sir," said the Duke peevishly; "if an evil is to be
undergone, the sooner it is over the better - I can take measures to
prevent its being renewed. So let me hear your errand without farther
delay."
"I will wait till your Grace's toilette is completed," said Christian,
with the indifferent tone which was natural to him. "What I have to
say must be between ourselves."
"Begone, Jerningham; and remain without till I call. Leave my doublet
on the couch. - How now, I have worn this cloth of silver a hundred
times."
"Only twice, if it please your Grace," replied Jerningham.
"As well twenty times - keep it for yourself, or give it to my valet,
if you are too proud of your gentility."
"Your Grace has made better men than me wear your cast clothes," said
Jerningham submissively.
"Thou art sharp, Jerningham," said the Duke - "in one sense I have, and
I may again. So now, that pearl-coloured will do with the ribbon and
George. Get away with thee. - And now that he is gone, Master
Christian, may I once more crave your pleasure?"
"My Lord Duke," said Christian, "you are a worshipper of difficulties
in state affairs, as in love matters."
"I trust you have been no eavesdropper, Master Christian," replied the
Duke; "it scarce argues the respect due to me, or to my roof."
"I know not what you mean, my lord," replied Christian.
"Nay, I care not if the whole world heard what I said but now to
Jerningham. But to the matter," replied the Duke of Buckingham.
"Your Grace is so much occupied with conquests over the fair and over
the witty, that you have perhaps forgotten what a stake you have in
the little Island of Man."
"Not a whit, Master Christian. I remember well enough that my
roundheaded father-in-law, Fairfax, had the island from the Long
Parliament; and was ass enough to quit hold of it at the Restoration,
when, if he had closed his clutches, and held fast, like a true bird
of prey, as he should have done, he might have kept it for him and
his. It had been a rare thing to have had a little kingdom - made laws
of my own - had my Chamberlain with his white staff - I would have
taught Jerningham, in half a day, to look as wise, walk as stiffly,
and speak as silly, as Harry Bennet."
"You might have done this, and more, if it had pleased your Grace."
"Ay, and if it had pleased my Grace, thou, Ned Christian, shouldst
have been the Jack Ketch of my dominions."
"/I/ your Jack Ketch, my lord?" said Christian, more in a tone of
surprise than of displeasure.
"Why, ay; thou hast been perpetually intriguing against the life of
yonder poor old woman. It were a kingdom to thee to gratify thy spleen
with thy own hands."
"I only seek justice against the Countess," said Christian.
"And the end of justice is always a gibbet," said the Duke.
"Be it so," answered Christian. "Well, the Countess is in the Plot."
"The devil confound the Plot, as I believe he first invented it!" said
the Duke of Buckingham; "I have heard of nothing else for months. If
one must go to hell, I would it were by some new road, and in
gentlemen's company. I should not like to travel with Oates, Bedloe,
and the rest of that famous cloud of witnesses."
"Your Grace is then resolved to forego all the advantages which may
arise? If the House of Derby fall under forfeiture, the grant to
Fairfax, now worthily represented by your Duchess, revives, and you
become the Lord and Sovereign of Man."
"In right of a woman," said the Duke; "but, in troth, my godly dame
owes me some advantage for having lived the first year of our marriage
with her and old Black Tom, her grim, fighting, puritanic father. A
man might as well have married the Devil's daughter, and set up
housekeeping with his father-in-law."[*]
[*] Mary, daughter of Thomas, Lord Fairfax, was wedded to the Duke of
Buckingham, whose versatility made him capable of rendering
himself for a time as agreeable to his father-in-law, though a
rigid Presbyterian, as to the gay Charles II.
"I understand you are willing, then, to join your interest for a heave
at the House of Derby, my Lord Duke?"
"As they are unlawfully possessed of my wife's kingdom, they certainly
can expect no favour at my hand. But thou knowest there is an interest
at Whitehall predominant over mine."
"That is only by your Grace's sufferance," said Christian.
"No, no; I tell thee a hundred times, no," said the Duke, rousing
himself to anger at the recollection. "I tell thee that base
courtezan, the Duchess of Portsmouth, hath impudently set herself to
thwart and contradict me; and Charles has given me both cloudy looks
and hard words before the Court. I would he could but guess what is
the offence between her and me! I would he knew but that! But I will
have her plumes picked, or my name is not Villiers. A worthless French
fille-de-joie to brave me thus! - Christian, thou art right; there is
no passion so spirit-stirring as revenge. I will patronise the Plot,
if it be but to spite her, and make it impossible for the King to
uphold her."
As the Duke spoke, he gradually wrought himself into a passion, and
traversed the apartment with as much vehemence as if the only object
he had on earth was to deprive the Duchess of her power and favour
with the King. Christian smiled internally to see him approach the
state of mind in which he was most easily worked upon, and judiciously
kept silence, until the Duke called out to him, in a pet, "Well, Sir
Oracle, you that have laid so many schemes to supplant this she-wolf
of Gaul, where are all your contrivances now? - Where is the exquisite
beauty who was to catch the Sovereign's eye at the first glance? -
Chiffinch, hath he seen her? - and what does he say, that exquisite
critic in beauty and blank-mange, women and wine?"
"He has /seen/ and approves, but has not yet heard her; and her speech
answers to all the rest. We came here yesterday; and to-day I intend
to introduce Chiffinch to her, the instant he arrives from the
country; and I expect him every hour. I am but afraid of the damsel's
peevish virtue, for she hath been brought up after the fashion of our
grandmothers - our mothers had better sense."
"What! so fair, so young, so quick-witted, and so difficult?" said the
Duke. "By your leave, you shall introduce me as well as Chiffinch."
"That your Grace may cure her of her intractable modesty?" said
Christian.
"Why," replied the Duke, "it will but teach her to stand in her own
light. Kings do not love to court and sue; they should have their game
run down for them."
"Under your Grace's favour," said Christian, "this cannot be - /Non
omnibus dormio/ - Your Grace knows the classic allusion. If this maiden
become a Prince's favourite, rank gilds the shame and the sin. But to
any under Majesty, she must not vail topsail."
"Why, thou suspicious fool, I was but in jest," said the Duke. "Do you
think I would interfere to spoil a plan so much to my own advantage as
that which you have laid before me?"
Christian smiled and shook his head. "My lord," he said, "I know your
Grace as well, or better, perhaps, than you know yourself. To spoil a
well-concerted intrigue by some cross stroke of your own, would give
you more pleasure, than to bring it to a successful termination
according to the plans of others. But Shaftesbury, and all concerned,
have determined that our scheme shall at least have fair play. We
reckon, therefore, on your help; and - forgive me when I say so - we
will not permit ourselves to be impeded by your levity and fickleness
of purpose."
"Who? - I light and fickle of purpose?" said the Duke. "You see me here
as resolved as any of you, to dispossess the mistress, and to carry on
the plot; these are the only two things I live for in this world. No
one can play the man of business like me, when I please, to the very
filing and labelling of my letters. I am regular as a scrivener."
"You have Chiffinch's letter from the country; he told me he had
written to you about some passages betwixt him and the young Lord
Saville."
"He did so - he did so," said the Duke, looking among his letters; "but
I see not his letter just now - I scarcely noted the contents - I was
busy when it came - but I have it safely."
"You should have acted on it," answered Christian. "The fool suffered
himself to be choused out of his secret, and prayed you to see that my
lord's messenger got not to the Duchess with some despatches which he
sent up from Derbyshire, betraying our mystery."
The Duke was now alarmed, and rang the bell hastily. Jerningham
appeared. "Where is the letter I had from Master Chiffinch some hours
since?"
"If it be not amongst those your Grace has before you, I know nothing
of it," said Jerningham. "I saw none such arrive."
"You lie, you rascal," said Buckingham; "have you a right to remember
better than I do?"
"If your Grace will forgive me reminding you, you have scarce opened a
letter this week," said his gentleman.
"Did you ever hear such a provoking rascal?" said the Duke. "He might
be a witness in the Plot. He has knocked my character for regularity
entirely on the head with his damned counter-evidence."
"Your Grace's talent and capacity will at least remain unimpeached,"
said Christian; "and it is those that must serve yourself and your
friends. If I might advise, you will hasten to Court, and lay some
foundation for the impression we wish to make. If your Grace can take
the first word, and throw out a hint to crossbite Saville, it will be
well. But above all, keep the King's ear employed, which no one can do
so well as you. Leave Chiffinch to fill his heart with a proper
object. Another thing is, there is a blockhead of an old Cavalier, who
must needs be a bustler in the Countess of Derby's behalf - he is fast
in hold, with the whole tribe of witnesses at his haunches."
"Nay, then, take him, Topham."
"Topham has taken him already, my lord," said Christian; "and there
is, besides, a young gallant, a son of the said Knight, who was bred
in the household of the Countess of Derby, and who has brought letters
from her to the Provincial of the Jesuits, and others in London."
"What are their names?" said the Duke dryly.
"Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Martindale Castle, in Derbyshire, and his son
Julian."
"What! Peveril of the Peak?" said the Duke, - "a stout old Cavalier as
ever swore an oath. - A Worcester-man, too - and, in truth, a man of all
work, when blows were going. I will not consent to his ruin,
Christian. These fellows must be flogged of such false scents - flogged
in every sense, they must, and will be, when the nation comes to its
eyesight again."
"It is of more than the last importance, in the meantime, to the
furtherance of our plan," said Christian, "that your Grace should
stand for a space between them and the King's favour. The youth hath
influence with the maiden, which we should find scarce favourable to
our views; besides, her father holds him as high as he can any one who
is no such puritanic fool as himself."
"Well, most Christian Christian," said the Duke, "I have heard your
commands at length. I will endeavour to stop the earths under the
throne, that neither the lord, knight, nor squire in question, shall
find it possible to burrow there. For the fair one, I must leave
Chiffinch and you to manage her introduction to her high destinies,
since I am not to be trusted. Adieu, most Christian Christian."
He fixed his eyes on him, and then exclaimed, as he shut the door of
the apartment, - "Most profligate and damnable villain! And what
provokes me most of all, is the knave's composed insolence. Your Grace
will do this - and your Grace will condescend to do that - A pretty
puppet I should be, to play the second part, or rather the third, in
such a scheme! No, they shall all walk according to my purpose, or I
will cross them. I will find this girl out in spite of them, and judge
if their scheme is likely to be successful. If so, she shall be mine -
mine entirely, before she becomes the King's; and I will command her
who is to guide Charles. - Jerningham" (his gentleman entered), "cause
Christian to be dogged where-ever he goes, for the next four-and-
twenty hours, and find out where he visits a female newly come to
town. - You smile, you knave?"
"I did but suspect a fresh rival to Araminta and the little Countess,"
said Jerningham.
"Away to your business, knave," said the Duke, "and let me think of
mine. - To subdue a Puritan in Esse - a King's favourite in Posse - the
very muster of western beauties - that is point first. The impudence of
this Manx mongrel to be corrected - the pride of Madame la Duchesse to
be pulled down - and important state intrigue to be farthered, or
baffled, as circumstances render most to my own honour and glory - I
wished for business but now, and I have got enough of it. But
Buckingham will keep his own steerage-way through shoal and through
weather."
CHAPTER XXIX
- - Mark you this, Bassanio -
The devil can quote Scripture for his purpose.
- MERCHANT OF VENICE.
After leaving the proud mansion of the Duke of Buckingham, Christian,
full of the deep and treacherous schemes which he meditated, hastened
to the city, where, in a decent inn, kept by a person of his own
persuasion, he had been unexpectedly summoned to meet with Ralph
Bridgenorth of Moultrassie. He was not disappointed - the Major had
arrived that morning, and anxiously expected him. The usual gloom of
his countenance was darkened into a yet deeper shade of anxiety, which
was scarcely relieved, even while, in answer to his inquiry after his
daughter, Christian gave the most favourable account of her health and
spirits, naturally and unaffectedly intermingled with such praises of
her beauty and her disposition, as were likely to be most grateful to
a father's ear.
But Christian had too much cunning to expatiate on this theme, however
soothing. He stopped short exactly at the point where, as an
affectionate relative, he might be supposed to have said enough. "The
lady," he said, "with whom he had placed Alice, was delighted with her
aspect and manners, and undertook to be responsible for her health and
happiness. He had not, he said, deserved so little confidence at the
hand of his brother, Bridgenorth, as that the Major should, contrary
to his purpose, and to the plan which they had adjusted together, have
hurried up from the country, as if his own presence were necessary for
Alice's protection."
"Brother Christian," said Bridgenorth in reply, "I must see my child -
I must see this person with whom she is entrusted."
"To what purpose?" answered Christian. "Have you not often confessed
that the over excess of the carnal affection which you have
entertained for your daughter, hath been a snare to you? - Have you
not, more than once, been on the point of resigning those great
designs which should place righteousness as a counsellor beside the
throne, because you desired to gratify your daughter's girlish passion
for this descendant of your old persecutor - this Julian Peveril?"
"I own it," said Bridgenorth; "and worlds would I have given, and
would yet give, to clasp that youth to my bosom, and call him my son.
The spirit of his mother looks from his eye, and his stately step is
as that of his father, when he daily spoke comfort to me in my
distress, and said, 'The child liveth.'"
"But the youth walks," said Christian, "after his own lights, and
mistakes the meteor of the marsh for the Polar star. Ralph
Bridgenorth, I will speak to thee in friendly sincerity. Thou must not
think to serve both the good cause and Baal. Obey, if thou wilt, thine
own carnal affections, summon this Julian Peveril to thy house, and
let him wed thy daughter - But mark the reception she will meet with
from the proud old knight, whose spirit is now, even now, as little
broken with his chains, as after the sword of the Saints had prevailed
at Worcester. Thou wilt see thy daughter spurned from his feet like an
outcast."
"Christian," said Bridgenorth, interrupting him, "thou dost urge me
hard; but thou dost it in love, my brother, and I forgive thee - Alice
shall never be spurned. - But this friend of thine - this lady - thou art
my child's uncle; and after me, thou art next to her in love and
affection - Still, thou art not her father - hast not her father's
fears. Art thou sure of the character of this woman to whom my child
is entrusted?"
"Am I sure of my own? - Am I sure that my name is Christian - yours
Bridgenorth? - Is it a thing I am likely to be insecure in? - Have I not
dwelt for many years in this city? - Do I not know this Court? - And am
I likely to be imposed upon? For I will not think you can fear my
imposing upon you."
"Thou art my brother," said Bridgenorth - "the blood and bone of my
departed Saint - and I am determined that I will trust thee in this
matter."
"Thou dost well," said Christian; "and who knows what reward may be in
store for thee? - I cannot look upon Alice, but it is strongly borne in
on my mind, that there will be work for a creature so excellent beyond
ordinary women. Courageous Judith freed Bethulia by her valour, and
the comely features of Esther made her a safeguard and a defence to
her people in the land of captivity, when she found favour in the
sight of King Ahasuerus."
"Be it with her as Heaven wills," said Bridgenorth; "and now tell me
what progress there is in the great work."
"The people are weary of the iniquity of this Court," said Christian;
"and if this man will continue to reign, it must be by calling to his
councils men of another stamp. The alarm excited by the damnable
practices of the Papists has called up men's souls, and awakened their
eyes to the dangers of their state. - He himself - for he will give up
brother and wife to save himself - is not averse to a change of
measures; and though we cannot at first see the Court purged as with a
winnowing fan, yet there will be enough of the good to control the bad
- enough of the sober party to compel the grant of that universal
toleration, for which we have sighed so long, as a maiden for her
beloved. Time and opportunity will lead the way to more thorough
reformation; and that will be done without stroke of sword, which our
friends failed to establish on a sure foundation, even when their
victorious blades were in their hands."
"May God grant it!" said Bridgenorth; "for I fear me I should scruple
to do aught which should once more unsheath the civil sword; but
welcome all that comes in a peaceful and parliamentary way."
"Ay," said Christian, "and which will bring with it the bitter amends,
which our enemies have so long merited at our hands. How long hath our
brother's blood cried for vengeance from the altar! - Now shall that
cruel Frenchwoman find that neither lapse of years, nor her powerful
friends, nor the name of Stanley, nor the Sovereignty of Man, shall
stop the stern course of the pursuer of blood. Her name shall be
struck from the noble, and her heritage shall another take."
"Nay, but, brother Christian," said Bridgenorth, "art thou not over
eager in pursuing this thing? - It is thy duty as a Christian to
forgive thine enemies."
"Ay, but not the enemies of Heaven - not those who shed the blood of
the saints," said Christian, his eyes kindling that vehement and fiery
expression which at times gave to his uninteresting countenance the
only character of passion which it ever exhibited. "No, Bridgenorth,"
he continued, "I esteem this purpose of revenge holy - I account it a
propitiatory sacrifice for what may have been evil in my life. I have
submitted to be spurned by the haughty - I have humbled myself to be as
a servant; but in my breast was the proud thought, I who do this - do
it that I may avenge my brother's blood."
"Still, my brother," said Bridgenorth, "although I participate thy
purpose, and have aided thee against this Moabitish woman, I cannot
but think thy revenge is more after the law of Moses than after the
law of love."
"This comes well from thee, Ralph Bridgenorth," answered Christian;
"from thee, who has just smiled over the downfall of thine own enemy."
"If you mean Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Bridgenorth, "I smile not on
his ruin. It is well he is abased; but if it lies with me, I may
humble his pride, but will never ruin his house."
"You know your purpose best," said Christian; "and I do justice,
brother Bridgenorth, to the purity of your principles; but men who see
with but worldly eyes, would discern little purpose of mercy in the
strict magistrate and severe creditor - and such have you been to
Peveril."
"And, brother Christian," said Bridgenorth, his colour rising as he
spoke, "neither do I doubt your purpose, nor deny the surprising
address with which you have procured such perfect information
concerning the purposes of yonder woman of Ammon. But it is free to me
to think, that in your intercourse with the Court, and with courtiers,
you may, in your carnal and worldly policy, sink the value of those
spiritual gifts, for which you were once so much celebrated among the
brethren."
"Do not apprehend it," said Christian, recovering his temper, which
had been a little ruffled by the previous discussion. "Let us but work
together as heretofore; and I trust each of us shall be found doing
the work of a faithful servant to that good old cause for which we
have heretofore drawn the sword."
So saying, he took his hat, and bidding Bridgenorth farewell, declared
his intention of returning in the evening.
"Fare thee well!" said Bridgenorth; "to that cause wilt thou find me
ever a true and devoted adherent. I will act by that counsel of thine,
and will not even ask thee - though it may grieve my heart as a parent
- with whom, or where, thou hast entrusted my child. I will try to cut
off, and cast from me, even my right hand, and my right eye; but for
thee, Christian, if thou dost deal otherwise than prudently and
honestly in this matter, it is what God and man will require at thy
hand."
"Fear not me," said Christian hastily, and left the place, agitated by
reflections of no pleasant kind.
"I ought to have persuaded him to return," he said, as he stepped out
into the street. "Even his hovering in this neighbourhood may spoil
the plan on which depends the rise of my fortunes - ay, and of his
child's. Will men say I have ruined her, when I shall have raised her
to the dazzling height of the Duchess of Portsmouth, and perhaps made
her a mother to a long line of princes? Chiffinch hath vouched for
opportunity; and the voluptuary's fortune depends upon his gratifying
the taste of his master for variety. If she makes an impression, it
must be a deep one; and once seated in his affections, I fear not her
being supplanted. - What will her father say? Will he, like a prudent
man, put his shame in his pocket, because it is well gilded? or will
he think it fitting to make a display of moral wrath and parental
frenzy? I fear the latter - He has ever kept too strict a course to
admit his conniving at such licence. But what will his anger avail? - I
need not be seen in the matter - those who are will care little for the
resentment of a country Puritan. And after all, what I am labouring to
bring about is best for himself, the wench, and above all, for me,
Edward Christian."
With such base opiates did this unhappy wretch stifle his own