with a smile, that no one feared the glance of a chained lion; a
magnificent simile, which rather increased than diminished the mirth
of those who heard it.
Against Julian Peveril there failed not to be charged the aggravated
fact, that he had been bearer of letters between the Countess of Derby
and other Papists and priests, engaged in the universal treasonable
conspiracy of the Catholics; and the attack of the house at
Moultrassie Hall, - with his skirmish with Chiffinch, and his assault,
as it was termed, on the person of John Jenkins, servant to the Duke
of Buckingham, were all narrated at length, as so many open and overt
acts of treasonable import. To this charge Peveril contented himself
with pleading - Not Guilty.
His little companion was not satisfied with so simple a plea; for when
he heard it read, as a part of the charge applying to him, that he had
received from an agent of the Plot a blank commission as Colonel of a
regiment of grenadiers, he replied, in wrath and scorn, that if
Goliath of Gath had come to him with such a proposal, and proffered
him the command of the whole sons of Anak in a body, he should never
have had occasion or opportunity to repeat the temptation to another.
"I would have slain him," said the little man of loyalty, "even where
he stood."
The charge was stated anew by the Counsel for the Crown; and forth
came the notorious Doctor Oates, rustling in the full silken
canonicals of priesthood, for it was a time when he affected no small
dignity of exterior decoration and deportment.
This singular man, who, aided by the obscure intrigues of the
Catholics themselves, and the fortuitous circumstance of Godfrey's
murder, had been able to cram down the public throat such a mass of
absurdity as his evidence amounts to, had no other talent for
imposture than an impudence which set conviction and shame alike at
defiance. A man of sense or reflection, by trying to give his plot an
appearance of more probability, would most likely have failed, as wise
men often to do in addressing the multitude, from not daring to
calculate upon the prodigious extent of their credulity, especially
where the figments presented to them involve the fearful and the
terrible.
Oates was by nature choleric; and the credit he had acquired made him
insolent and conceited. Even his exterior was portentous. A fleece of
white periwig showed a most uncouth visage, of great length, having
the mouth, as the organ by use of which he was to rise to eminence,
placed in the very centre of the countenance, and exhibiting to the
astonished spectator as much chin below as there was nose and brow
above the aperture. His pronunciation, too, was after a conceited
fashion of his own, in which he accented the vowels in a manner
altogether peculiar to himself.
This notorious personage, such as we have described him, stood forth
on the present trial, and delivered his astonishing testimony
concerning the existence of a Catholic Plot for the subversion of the
government and murder of the King, in the same general outline in
which it may be found in every English history. But as the doctor
always had in reserve some special piece of evidence affecting those
immediately on trial, he was pleased, on the present occasion, deeply
to inculpate the Countess of Derby. "He had seen," as he said, "that
honourable lady when he was at the Jesuits' College at Saint Omer's.
She had sent for him to an inn, or /auberge/, as it was there termed -
the sign of the Golden Lamb; and had ordered him to breakfast in the
same room with her ladyship; and afterwards told him, that, knowing he
was trusted by the Fathers of the Society, she was determined that he
should have a share of her secrets also; and therewithal, that she
drew from her bosom a broad sharp-pointed knife, such as butchers kill
sheep with, and demanded of him what he thought of it for /the
purpose/; and when he, the witness, said for what purpose she rapt him
on the fingers with her fan, called him a dull fellow, and said it was
designed to kill the King with."
Here Sir Geoffrey Peveril could no longer refrain his indignation and
surprise. "Mercy of Heaven!" he said, "did ever one hear of ladies of
quality carrying butchering knives about them, and telling every
scurvy companion she meant to kill the King with them? - Gentleman of
the Jury, do but think if this is reasonable - though, if the villain
could prove by any honest evidence, that my Lady of Derby ever let
such a scum as himself come to speech of her, I would believe all he
can say."
"Sir Geoffrey," said the Judge, "rest you quiet - You must not fly out
- passion helps you not here - the Doctor must be suffered to proceed."
Doctor Oates went on to state how the lady complained of the wrongs
the House of Derby had sustained from the King and the oppression of
her religion, and boasted of the schemes of the Jesuits and seminary
priests; and how they would be farthered by her noble kinsman of the
House of Stanley. He finally averred that both the Countess and the
Fathers of the seminary abroad, founded much upon the talents and
courage of Sir Geoffrey Peveril and his son - the latter of whom was a
member of her family. Of Hudson, he only recollected of having heard
one of the Fathers say, that although but a dwarf in stature, he would
prove a giant in the cause of the Church.
When he had ended his evidence, there was a pause, until the Judge, as
if the thought had suddenly occurred to him, demanded of Dr. Oates,
whether he had ever mentioned the names of the Countess of Derby in
any of the previous informations which he had lodged before the Privy
Council, and elsewhere, upon this affair.
Oates seemed rather surprised at the question, and coloured with
anger, as he answered, in his peculiar mode of pronunciation, "Whoy,
no, maay laard."
"And pray, Doctor," said the Judge, "how came so great a revealer of
mysteries as you have lately proved, to have suffered so material a
circumstance as the accession of this powerful family to the Plot to
have remained undiscovered?"
"Maay laard," said Oates, with much effrontery, "aye do not come here
to have my evidence questioned as touching the Plaat."
"I do not question your evidence, Doctor," said Scroggs, for the time
was not arrived that he dared treat him roughly; "nor do I doubt the
existence of the /Plaat/, since it is your pleasure to swear to it. I
would only have you, for your own sake, and the satisfaction of all
good Protestants, to explain why you have kept back such a weighty
point of information from the King and country."
"Maay laard," said Oates, "I will tell you a pretty fable."
"I hope," answered the Judge, "it may be the first and last which you
shall tell in this place."
"Maay laard," continued Oates, "there was once a faux, who having to
carry a goose over a frazen river, and being afraid the aice would not
bear him and his booty, did caarry aaver a staane, my laard, in the
first instance, to prove the strength of the aice."
"So your former evidence was but the stone, and now, for the first
time, you have brought us the goose?" said Sir William Scroggs; "to
tell us this, Doctor, is to make geese of the Court and Jury."
"I desoire your laardship's honest construction," said Oates, who saw
the current changing against him, but was determined to pay the score
with effrontery. "All men knaw at what coast and praice I have given
my evidence, which has been always, under Gaad, the means of awakening
this poor naation to the dangerous state in which it staunds. Many
here knaw that I have been obliged to faartify my ladging at Whitehall
against the bloody Papists. It was not to be thought that I should
have brought all the story out at aance. I think your wisdome would
have advised me otherwise."[*]
[*] It was on such terms that Dr. Oates was pleased to claim the
extraordinary privilege of dealing out the information which he
chose to communicate to a court of justice. The only sense in
which his story of the fox, stone, and goose could be applicable,
is by supposing that he was determined to ascertain the extent of
his countrymen's credulity before supplying it with a full meal.
"Nay, Doctor," said the Judge, "it is not for me to direct you in this
affair; and it is for the Jury to believe you or not; and as for
myself, I sit here to do justice to both - the Jury have heard your
answer to my question."
Doctor Oates retired from the witness-box reddening like a turkey-
cock, as one totally unused to have such accounts questioned as he
chose to lay before the courts of justice; and there was, perhaps, for
the first time, amongst the counsel and solicitors, as well as the
templars and students of law there present, a murmur, distinct and
audible, unfavourable to the character of the great father of the
Popish Plot.
Everett and Dangerfield, with whom the reader is already acquainted,
were then called in succession to sustain the accusation. They were
subordinate informers - a sort of under-spur-leathers, as the cant term
went - who followed the path of Oates, with all deference to his
superior genius and invention, and made their own fictions chime in
and harmonise with his, as well as their talents could devise. But as
their evidence had at no time received the full credence into which
the impudence of Oates had cajoled the public, so they now began to
fall into discredit rather more hastily than their prototype, as the
super-added turrets of an ill-constructed building are naturally the
first to give way.
It was in vain that Everett, with the precision of a hypocrite, and
Dangerfield, with the audacity of a bully, narrated, with added
circumstances of suspicion and criminality, their meeting with Julian
Peveril in Liverpool, and again at Martindale Castle. It was in vain
they described the arms and accoutrements which they pretended to have
discovered in old Sir Geoffrey's possession; and that they gave a most
dreadful account of the escape of the younger Peveril from Moultrassie
Hall, by means of an armed force.
The Jury listened coldly, and it was visible that they were but little
moved by the accusation; especially as the Judge, always professing
his belief in the Plot, and his zeal for the Protestant religion, was
ever and anon reminding them that presumptions were no proofs - that
hearsay was no evidence - that those who made a trade of discovery
were likely to aid their researches by invention - and that without
doubting the guilt of the unfortunate persons at the bar, he would
gladly hear some evidence brought against them of a different nature.
"Here we are told of a riot, and an escape achieved by the younger
Peveril, at the house of a grave and worthy magistrate, known, I
think, to most of us. Why, Master Attorney, bring ye not Master
Bridgenorth himself to prove the fact, or all his household, if it be
necessary? - A rising in arms is an affair over public to be left on
the hearsay tale of these two men - though Heaven forbid that I should
suppose they speak one word more than they believe! They are the
witnesses for the King - and, what is equally dear to us, the
Protestant religion - and witnesses against a most foul and heathenish
Plot. On the other hand, here is a worshipful old knight, for such I
must suppose him to be, since he has bled often in battle for the
King, - such, I must say, I suppose him to be, until he is proved
otherwise. And here is his son, a hopeful young gentleman - we must see
that they have right, Master Attorney."
"Unquestionably, my lord," answered the Attorney. "God forbid else!
But we will make out these matters against these unhappy gentlemen in
a manner more close, if your lordship will permit us to bring in our
evidence."
"Go on, Master Attorney," said the Judge, throwing himself back in his
seat. "Heaven forbid I hinder proving the King's accusation! I only
say, what you know as well as I, that /de non apparentibus et non
existentibus eadem est ratio/."
"We shall then call Master Bridgenorth, as your lordship advised, who
I think is in waiting."
"No!" answered a voice from the crowd, apparently that of a female;
"he is too wise and too honest to be here."
The voice was distinct as that of Lady Fairfax, when she expressed
herself to a similar effect on the trial of Charles the First; but the
researches which were made on the present occasion to discover the
speaker were unsuccessful.
After the slight confusion occasioned by this circumstance was abated,
the Attorney, who had been talking aside with the conductors of the
prosecution, said, "Whoever favoured us with that information, my
lord, had good reason for what they said. Master Bridgenorth has
become, I am told, suddenly invisible since this morning."
"Look you there now, Master Attorney," said the Judge - "This comes of
not keeping the crown witnesses together and in readiness - I am sure I
cannot help the consequences."
"Nor I either, my lord," said the Attorney pettishly. "I could have
proved by this worshipful gentleman, Master Justice Bridgenorth, the
ancient friendship betwixt this party, Sir Geoffrey Peveril, and the
Countess of Derby, of whose doings and intentions Dr. Oates has given
such a deliberate evidence. I could have proved his having sheltered
her in his Castle against a process of law, and rescued her, by force
of arms, from this very Justice Bridgenorth, not without actual
violence. Moreover, I could have proved against young Peveril the
whole affray charged upon him by the same worshipful evidence."
Here the Judge stuck his thumbs into his girdle, which was a favourite
attitude of his on such occasions, and exclaimed, "Pshaw, pshaw,
Master Attorney! - Tell me not that you /could/ have proved that, or
that, or this - Prove what you will, but let it be through the mouths
of your evidence. Men are not to be licked out of their lives by the
rough side of a lawyer's tongue."
"Nor is a foul Plot to be smothered," said the Attorney, "for all the
haste your lordship is in. I cannot call Master Chiffinch neither, as
he is employed on the King's especial affairs, as I am this instant
certiorated from the Court at Whitehall."
"Produce the papers, then, Master Attorney, of which this young man is
said to be the bearer," said the Judge.
"They are before the Privy Council, my lord."
"Then why do you found on them here?" said the Judge - "This is
something like trifling with the Court."
"Since your lordship gives it that name," said the Attorney, sitting
down in a huff, "you may manage the cause as you will."
"If you do not bring more evidence, I pray you to charge the Jury,"
said the Judge.
"I shall not take the trouble to do so," said the Crown Counsel. "I
see plainly how the matter is to go."
"Nay, but be better advised," said Scroggs. "Consider, your case is
but half proved respecting the two Peverils, and doth not pinch on the
little man at all, saving that Doctor Oates said that he was in a
certain case to prove a giant, which seems no very probable Popish
miracle."
This sally occasioned a laugh in the Court, which the Attorney-General
seemed to take in great dudgeon.
"Master Attorney," said Oates, who always interfered in the management
of these law-suits, "this is a plain an absolute giving away of the
cause - I must needs say it, a mere stoifling of the Plaat."
"Then the devil who bred it may blow wind into it again, if he lists,"
answered the Attorney-General; and, flinging down his brief, he left
the Court, as if in a huff with all who were concerned in the affair.
The Judge having obtained silence, - for a murmur arose in the Court
when the Counsel for the prosecution threw up his brief, - began to
charge the Jury, balancing, as he had done throughout the whole day,
the different opinions by which he seemed alternately swayed. He
protested on his salvation that he had no more doubt of the existence
of the horrid and damnable conspiracy called the Popish Plot, than he
had of the treachery of Judas Iscariot; and that he considered Oates
as the instrument under Providence of preserving the nation from all
the miseries of his Majesty's assassination, and of a second Saint
Bartholomew, acted in the streets of London. But then he stated it was
the candid construction of the law of England, that the worse the
crime, the more strong should be the evidence. Here was the case of
accessories tried, whilst their principal - for such he should call the
Countess of Derby - was unconvicted and at large; and for Doctor Oates,
he had but spoke of matters which personally applied to that noble
lady, whose words, if she used such in passion, touching aid which she
expected in some treasonable matters from these Peverils, and from her
kinsmen, or her son's kinsmen, of the House of Stanley, may have been
but a burst of female resentment - /dulcis Amaryllidis ira/, as the
poet hath it. Who knoweth but Doctor Oates did mistake - he being a
gentleman of a comely countenance and easy demeanour - this same rap
with the fan as a chastisement for lack of courage in the Catholic
cause, when, peradventure, it was otherwise meant, as Popish ladies
will put, it is said, such neophytes and youthful candidates for
orders, to many severe trials. "I speak these things jocularly," said
the Judge, "having no wish to stain the reputation either of the
Honourable Countess or the Reverend Doctor; only I think the bearing
between them may have related to something short of high treason. As
for what the Attorney-General hath set forth of rescues and force, and
I wot not what, sure I am, that in a civil country, when such things
happen such things may be proved; and that you and I, gentlemen, are
not to take them for granted gratuitously. Touching this other
prisoner, this /Galfridus minimus/, he must needs say," he continued,
"he could not discover even a shadow of suspicion against him. Was it
to be thought so abortive a creature would thrust himself into depths
of policy, far less into stratagems of war? They had but to look at
him to conclude the contrary - the creature was, from his age, fitter
for the grave than a conspiracy - and by his size and appearance, for
the inside of a raree-show, than the mysteries of a plot."
The dwarf here broke in upon the Judge by force of screaming, to
assure him that he had been, simple as he sat there, engaged in seven
plots in Cromwell's time; and, as he proudly added, with some of the
tallest men of England. The matchless look and air with which Sir
Geoffrey made this vaunt, set all a-laughing, and increased the
ridicule with which the whole trial began to be received; so that it
was amidst shaking sides and watery eyes that a general verdict of
Not Guilty was pronounced, and the prisoners dismissed from the bar.
But a warmer sentiment awakened among those who saw the father and son
throw themselves into each other's arms, and, after a hearty embrace,
extend their hands to their poor little companion in peril, who, like
a dog, when present at a similar scene, had at last succeeded, by
stretching himself up to them and whimpering at the same time, to
secure to himself a portion of their sympathy and gratulation.
Such was the singular termination of this trial. Charles himself was
desirous to have taken considerable credit with the Duke of Ormond for
the evasion of the law, which had been thus effected by his private
connivance; and was both surprised and mortified at the coldness with
which his Grace replied, that he was rejoiced at the poor gentleman's
safety, but would rather have had the King redeem them like a prince,
by his royal prerogative of mercy, than that his Judge should convey
them out of the power of the law, like a juggler with his cups and
balls.
CHAPTER XLII
- - On fair ground
I could beat forty of them!
- CORIOLANUS.
It doubtless occurred to many that were present at the trial we have
described, that it was managed in a singular manner, and that the
quarrel, which had the appearance of having taken place between the
Court and the Crown Counsel, might proceed from some private
understanding betwixt them, the object of which was the miscarriage of
the accusation. Yet though such underhand dealing was much suspected,
the greater part of the audience, being well educated and intelligent,
had already suspected the bubble of the Popish Plot, and were glad to
see that accusations, founded on what had already cost so much blood,
could be evaded in any way. But the crowd, who waited in the Court of
Requests, and in the hall, and without doors, viewed in a very
different light the combination, as they interpreted it, between the
Judge and the Attorney-General, for the escape of the prisoners.
Oates, whom less provocation than he had that day received often
induced to behave like one frantic with passion, threw himself amongst
the crowd, and repeated till he was hoarse, "Theay are stoifling the
Plaat! - theay are straangling the Plaat! - My Laard Justice and Maaster
Attarney are in league to secure the escape of the plaaters and
Paapists!"
"It is the device of the Papist whore of Portsmouth," said one.
"Of old Rowley himself," said another.
"If he could be murdered by himself, why hang those that would hinder
it!" exclaimed a third.
"He should be tried," said a fourth, "for conspiring his own death,
and hanged /in terrorem/."
In the meanwhile, Sir Geoffrey, his son, and their little companion,
left the hall, intending to go to Lady Peveril's lodgings, which had
been removed to Fleet Street. She had been relieved from considerable
inconvenience, as Sir Geoffrey gave Julian hastily to understand, by
an angel, in the shape of a young friend, and she now expected them
doubtless with impatience. Humanity, and some indistinct idea of
having unintentionally hurt the feelings of the poor dwarf, induced
the honest Cavalier to ask this unprotected being to go with them. "He
knew Lady Peveril's lodgings were but small," he said; "but it would
be strange, if there was not some cupboard large enough to accommodate
the little gentleman."
The dwarf registered this well-meant remark in his mind, to be the
subject of a proper explanation, along with the unhappy reminiscence
of the trencher-hornpipe, whenever time should permit an argument of
such nicety.
And thus they sallied from the hall, attracting general observation,
both from the circumstances in which they had stood so lately, and
from their resemblance, as a wag of the Inner Temple expressed it, to
the three degrees of comparison, Large, Lesser, Least. But they had
not passed far along the street, when Julian perceived that more
malevolent passions than mere curiosity began to actuate the crowd
which followed, and, as it were, dogged their motions.
"There go the Papist cut-throats, tantivy for Rome!" said one fellow.
"Tantivy to Whitehall, you mean!" said another.
"Ah! the bloodthirsty villains!" cried a woman: "Shame, one of them
should be suffered to live, after poor Sir Edmondsbury's cruel
murder."
"Out upon the mealy-mouthed Jury, that turned out the bloodhounds on
an innocent town!" cried a fourth.
In short, the tumult thickened, and the word began to pass among the
more desperate, "Lambe them, lads; lambe them!" - a cant phrase of the
time, derived from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an astrologer and quack, who
was knocked on the head by the rabble in Charles the First's time.
Julian began to be much alarmed at these symptoms of violence, and
regretted that they had not gone down to the city by water. It was now
too late to think of that mode of retreating, and he therefore
requested his father in a whisper, to walk steadily forward towards
Charing Cross, taking no notice of the insults which might be cast
upon them, while the steadiness of their pace and appearance might
prevent the rabble from resorting to actual violence. The execution of
this prudent resolution was prevented after they had passed the
palace, by the hasty disposition of the elder Sir Geoffrey, and the no
less choleric temper of Galfridus Minimus, who had a soul which
spurned all odds, as well of numbers as of size.
"Now a murrain take the knaves, with their hollowing and whooping,"
said the large knight; "by this day, if I could but light on a weapon,
I would cudgel reason and loyalty into some of their carcasses!"
"And I also," said the dwarf, who was toiling to keep up with the
longer strides of his companions, and therefore spoke in a very
phthisical tone. - "I also will cudgel the plebeian knaves beyond
measure - he! - hem!"
Among the crowd who thronged around them, impeded, and did all but
assault them, was a mischievous shoemaker's apprentice, who, hearing
this unlucky vaunt of the valorous dwarf, repaid it by flapping him on
the head with a boot which he was carrying home to the owner, so as to
knock the little gentleman's hat over his eyes. The dwarf, thus
rendered unable to discover the urchin that had given him the offence,
flew with instinctive ambition against the biggest fellow in the
crowd, who received the onset with a kick on the stomach, which made
the poor little champion reel back to his companions. They were now
assaulted on all sides; but fortune complying with the wish of Sir
Geoffrey the larger, ordained that the scuffle should happen near the
booth of a cutler, from amongst whose wares, as they stood exposed to
the public, Sir Geoffrey Peveril snatched a broadsword, which he
brandished with the formidable address of one who had for many a day
been in the familiar practice of using such a weapon. Julian, while at
the same time he called loudly for a peace-officer, and reminded the
assailants that they were attacking inoffensive passengers, saw
nothing better for it than to imitate his father's example, and seized
also one of the weapons thus opportunely offered.
When they displayed these demonstrations of defence, the rush which
the rabble at first made towards them was so great as to throw down
the unfortunate dwarf, who would have been trampled to death in the
scuffle, had not his stout old namesake cleared the rascal crowd from
about him with a few flourishes of his weapon, and seizing on the
fallen champion, put him out of danger (except from missiles), by
suddenly placing him on the bulk-head, that is to say, the flat wooden
roof of the cutler's projecting booth. From the rusty ironware, which
was displayed there, the dwarf instantly snatched an old rapier and
target, and covering himself with the one, stood making passes with
the other, at the faces and eyes of the people in the street; so much
delighted with his post of vantage, that he called loudly to his
friends who were skirmishing with the riotous on more equal terms as
to position, to lose no time in putting themselves under his
protection. But far from being in a situation to need his assistance,
the father and son might easily have extricated themselves from the
rabble by their own exertions, could they have thought of leaving the
mannikin in the forlorn situation, in which, to every eye but his own,
he stood like a diminutive puppet, tricked out with sword and target
as a fencing-master's sign.
Stones and sticks began now to fly very thick, and the crowd,
notwithstanding the exertions of the Peverils to disperse them with as
little harm as possible, seemed determined on mischief, when some
gentlemen who had been at the trial, understanding that the prisoners
who had been just acquitted were in danger of being murdered by the
populace, drew their swords, and made forward to effect their rescue,
which was completed by a small party of the King's Life Guards, who
had been despatched from their ordinary post of alarm, upon
intelligence of what was passing. When this unexpected reinforcement
arrived, the old jolly Knight at once recognised, amidst the cries of
those who then entered upon action, some of the sounds which had
animated his more active years.
"Where be these cuckoldly Roundheads," cried some. - "Down with the
sneaking knaves!" cried others. - "The King and his friends, and the
devil a one else!" exclaimed a third set, with more oaths and d - n
me's, than, in the present more correct age, it is necessary to commit
to paper.
The old soldier, pricking up his ears like an ancient hunter at the
cry of the hounds, would gladly have scoured the Strand, with the
charitable purpose, now he saw himself so well supported, of knocking
the London knaves, who had insulted him, into twiggen bottles; but he
was withheld by the prudence of Julian, who, though himself extremely
irritated by the unprovoked ill-usage which they had received, saw
himself in a situation in which it was necessary to exercise more
caution than vengeance. He prayed and pressed his father to seek some
temporary place of retreat from the fury of the populace, while that
prudent measure was yet in their power. The subaltern officer, who
commanded the party of the Life Guards, exhorted the old Cavalier
eagerly to the same sage counsel, using, as a spice of compulsion, the
name of the King; while Julian strongly urged that of his mother. The
old Knight looked at his blade, crimsoned with cross-cuts and slashes
which he had given to the most forward of the assailants, with the eye
of one not half sufficed.
"I would I had pinked one of the knaves at least - but I know not how
it was, when I looked on their broad round English faces, I shunned to
use my point, and only sliced the rogues a little."
"But the King's pleasure," said the officer, "is, that no tumult be
prosecuted."
"My mother," said Julian, "will die with fright, if the rumour of this
scuffle reaches her ere we see her."
"Ay, ay," said the Knight, "the King's Majesty and my good dame - well,
their pleasure be done, that's all I can say - Kings and ladies must be
obeyed. But which way to retreat, since retreat we must?"
Julian would have been at some loss to advise what course to take, for
everybody in the vicinity had shut up their shops, and chained their
doors, upon observing the confusion become so formidable. The poor
cutler, however, with whose goods they made so free, offered them an
asylum on the part of his landlord, whose house served as a rest for
his shop, and only intimated gently, he hoped the gentleman would
consider him for the use of his weapons.
Julian was hastily revolving whether they ought, in prudence, to
accept this man's invitation, aware, by experience, how many trepans,
as they were then termed, were used betwixt two contending factions,
each too inveterate to be very scrupulous of the character of fair
play to an enemy, when the dwarf, exerting his cracked voice to the
uttermost, and shrieking like an exhausted herald, from the exalted
station which he still occupied on the bulk-head, exhorted them to
accept the offer of the worthy man of the mansion. "He himself," he
said, as he reposed himself after the glorious conquest in which he
had some share, "had been favoured with a beatific vision, too
splendid to be described to common and mere mortal ears, but which had
commanded him, in a voice to which his heart had bounded as to a
trumpet sound, to take refuge with the worthy person of the house, and
cause his friends to do so."
"Vision!" said the Knight of the Peak, - "sound of a trumpet! - the
little man is stark mad."
But the cutler, in great haste, intimated to them that their little
friend had received an intimation from a gentlewoman of his
acquaintance, who spoke to him from the window, while he stood on the
bulk-head, that they would find a safe retreat in his landlord's; and
desiring them to attend to two or three deep though distant huzzas,
made them aware that the rabble were up still, and would soon be upon
them with renewed violence, and increased numbers.
The father and son, therefore, hastily thanked the officer and his
party, as well as the other gentlemen who had volunteered in their
assistance, lifted little Sir Geoffrey Hudson from the conspicuous
post which he had so creditably occupied during the skirmish, and
followed the footsteps of the tenant of the booth, who conducted them
down a blind alley and through one or two courts, in case, as he said,
any one might have watched where they burrowed, and so into a back-
door. This entrance admitted them to a staircase carefully hung with
straw mats to exclude damp, from the upper step of which they entered
upon a tolerably large withdrawing-room, hung with coarse green serge
edged with gilded leather, which the poorer or more economical
citizens at that time use instead of tapestry or wainscoting.
Here the poor cutler received from Julian such a gratuity for the loan
of the swords, that he generously abandoned the property to the
gentlemen who had used them so well; "the rather," he said, "that he
saw, by the way they handed their weapons, that they were men of
mettle, and tall fellows."
Here the dwarf smiled on him courteously, and bowed, thrusting at the
same time, his hand into his pocket, which however, he withdrew
carelessly probably because he found he had not the means of making
the small donation which he had meditated.
The cutler proceeded to say, as he bowed and was about to withdraw,
that he saw there would be merry days yet in Old England, and that
Bilboa blades would fetch as good a price as ever. "I remember," he
said, "gentlemen, though I was then but a 'prentice, the demand for
weapons in the years forty-one and forty-two; sword blades were more
in request than toothpicks, and Old Ironsides, my master, took more
for rascally Provant rapiers, than I dare ask nowadays for a Toledo.
But, to be sure, a man's life then rested on the blade he carried; the
Cavaliers and Roundheads fought every day at the gates of Whitehall,
as it is like, gentlemen, by your good example, they may do again,
when I shall be enabled to leave my pitiful booth, and open a shop of
better quality. I hope you will recommend me, gentlemen, to your
friends. I am always provided with ware which a gentleman may risk his
life on."
"Thank you, good friend," said Julian, "I prithee begone. I trust we
shall need thy ware no more for some time at least."
The cutler retired, while the dwarf hollowed after him downstairs,
that he would call on him soon, and equip himself with a longer blade,
and one more proper for action; although, he said, the little weapon
he had did well enough for a walking-sword, or in a skirmish with such
/canaille/ as they had been engaged with.
The cutler returned at this summons, and agreed to pleasure the little
man with a weapon more suitable to his magnanimity; then, as if the
thought had suddenly occurred to him, he said, "But, gentlemen, it
will be wild work to walk with your naked swords through the Strand,
and it can scarce fail to raise the rabble again. If you please, while
you repose yourselves here, I can fit the blades with sheaths."
The proposal seemed so reasonable, that Julian and his father gave up
their weapons to the friendly cutler, an example which the dwarf
followed, after a moment's hesitation, not caring, as he magnificently
expressed it, to part so soon with the trusty friend which fortune had
but the moment before restored to his hand. The man retired with the
weapons under his arm; and, in shutting the door behind him, they
heard him turn the key.
"Did you hear that?" said Sir Geoffrey to his son - "and we are
disarmed!"
Julian, without reply, examined the door, which was fast secured; and
then looked at the casements, which were at a storey's height from the
ground, and grated besides with iron. "I cannot think," he said, after
a moment's pause, "that the fellow means to trepan us; and, in any
event, I trust we should have no difficulty in forcing the door, or
otherwise making escape. But, before resorting to such violent
measures, I think it is better to give the rabble leisure to disperse,
by waiting this man's return with our weapons within a reasonable
time, when, if he does not appear, I trust we shall find little
difficulty in extricating ourselves." As he spoke thus, the hangings
were pulled aside, and from a small door which was concealed behind
them, Major Bridgenorth entered the room.
CHAPTER XLIII
He came amongst them like a new raised spirit
To speak of dreadful judgments that impend,
And of the wrath to come.
- THE REFORMER.
The astonishment of Julian at the unexpected apparition of
Bridgenorth, was instantly succeeded by apprehension of his father's
violence, which he had every reason to believe would break forth
against one, whom he himself could not but reverence on account of his
own merits, as well as because he was the father of Alice. The
appearance of Bridgenorth was not however, such as to awaken
resentment. His countenance was calm, his step slow and composed, his
eye not without the indication of some deep-seated anxiety, but
without any expression either of anger or of triumph. "You are
welcome," he said, "Sir Geoffrey Peveril, to the shelter and
hospitality of this house; as welcome as you would have been in other
days, when we called each other neighbours and friends."
"Odzooks," said the old Cavalier; "and had I known it was thy house,
man, I would sooner had my heart's blood run down the kennel, than my
foot should have crossed your threshold - in the way of seeking safety,
that is."
"I forgive your inveteracy," said Major Bridgenorth, "on account of
your prejudices."
"Keep your forgiveness," answered the Cavalier, "until you are
pardoned yourself. By Saint George I have sworn, if ever I got my
heels out of yon rascally prison, whither I was sent much through your
means, Master Bridgenorth, - that you should pay the reckoning for my
bad lodging. - I will strike no man in his own house; but if you will
cause the fellow to bring back my weapon, and take a turn in that
blind court there below, along with me, you shall soon see what chance
a traitor hath with a true man, and a kennel-blooded Puritan with
Peveril of the Peak."
Bridgenorth smiled with much composure. "When I was younger and more
warm-blooded," he replied, "I refused your challenge, Sir Geoffrey;
it is not likely I should now accept it, when each is within a stride
of the grave. I have not spared, and will not spare, my blood, when my
country wants it."
"That is when there is any chance of treason against the King," said
Sir Geoffrey.
"Nay, my father," said Julian, "let us hear Master Bridgenorth! We
have been sheltered in his house; and although we now see him in
London, we should remember that he did not appear against us this day,
when perhaps his evidence might have given a fatal turn to our
situation."
"You are right, young man," said Bridgenorth; "and it should be some
pledge of my sincere goodwill, that I was this day absent from
Westminster, when a few words from my mouth had ended the long line of
Peveril of the Peak: it needed but ten minutes to walk to Westminster
Hall, to have ensured your condemnation. But could I have done this,
knowing, as I now know, that to thee, Julian Peveril, I owe the
extrication of my daughter - of my dearest Alice - the memory of her