by Moyle Sherer
CHAP. XIX.
In thee, faire mansion, let it rest, Yet know, with what thou art possest; Thou entertaining in thy brest But such a mind, mak'st God thy guest. BEN JONSON.
What time the primroses were beginning to spread palely over the greenand sunny banks in the neighbourhood of Milverton House, in the springof 1642, the grimed armourers of England were busy in their smokyworkshops; and there was no hall in the land, whether private orcivic, in which the arms were not taken down from the walls and put inorder. Every where notes of preparation were heard, and eyes ofsettled resolve might be seen.
The House of Commons had petitioned the King for the militia, and theywere already active in raising men. Sir Oliver Heywood, refusing toact in this matter, resigned his office of magistrate and justice ofthe peace, and took a decided part for the King. But although he hadgood will to the royal cause, and spoke his sentiments loudly andbitterly, although he was ready to make some personal exertions andsome pecuniary sacrifices for his party, he was, as has been observedbefore, an indolent, self-indulgent old gentleman, a lover of ease andof his own way; methodical in all his habits, and obstinate in all hisprejudices. The frequent visits of those hard and active men ofbusiness, who were employed to forward the royal cause by negotiatingwith all the Cavalier gentry for supplies of men and money, before thecommission of array was actually issued, disturbed him sadly, and histemper became very irritable. Sir Charles Lambert had been longre-established in his good graces, and to the deep sorrow of Katharinehad become once more a constant guest at Milverton. It is true that agreat improvement had apparently taken place in his outward conduct,but Katharine disliked, mistrusted, feared him. She saw that he againentertained hopes of accomplishing his purposes upon her weak father,and of thus obtaining possession of her hand in marriage. It was aninconceivable mystery to her that any human being should desire to beunited to another, when aware that his very touch was evaded with ashudder, and that from his gaze the face was averted with loathing.
Some changes had taken place at the Hall within the last year, whichhad glided away with the swiftness of a shadow. In the Januaryimmediately preceding the season of which we are now writing, MistressAlice had been summoned by that call, which, sooner or later, all mustobey, and laid in a peaceful grave:--the snows that fell upon it werenot more pure and spotless than had been her kind and innocent life,and her dissolution had been as gentle and as soft as their quick andsilent melting.
The family and household were still in their mourning for her; and hadany stranger gazed upon Katharine Heywood, as in her sad robes ofblack she paced the terrace alone with slow and thoughtful steps, hewould have wept for sympathy, and deemed her one of those silentmourners for the dead who refuse to be comforted, and cherish thesweet memory of a vanished image; but it was far otherwise,--hergriefs were those of doubt and apprehension about the living. If evera glance of the mind looked after the departed Alice, it did so withaffection and complacency; with a calm joy that she was taken from theevil to come, and with an envy of her quiet tomb. But such movementsof impatience at the difficulties of her path and the dreariness ofthat waste which lay before her in her appointed pilgrimage were neverof any long continuance. She knew them to be wicked, and she knew themto be vain: she wore divine and secret armour, and she neither flednor fainted in her hours of trial. The occasional, though lessfrequent, visits of George Juxon were a great relief to her,--and JaneLambert continued to be her constant friend and beloved companion.Over the character of Jane there had come a change, which, though attimes it was viewed with serious anxiety by Katharine, did upon thewhole suit far better with those habits of her own soul which carehad begotten.
Jane Lambert's eyes, which were used to be lighted up with bright andjoyous expression, and a certain lively and winning archness, did nowoften fill with unbidden tears, or were fixed gravely upon vacancy.
One day, as the friends were walking together in a silent mood, thehand of Katharine resting gently upon the shoulder of Jane, and theirsteps slow as those of vestals in their groves, Juxon came suddenlyupon them in their path; and so deep was the abstraction of both, thathe was not seen of either till they met closely.
"I am sorry," he observed, "to break the spell by which you are bothbound, but I could not turn back, for I have business with Sir Oliver;however, it was to all seeming a spell so black and melancholy thatperhaps it is better broken."
"It is a good omen for us that it is broken by you, Master Juxon, foryou are always a prophet of good, and misfortune never makes choice ofsuch a messenger," said Katharine, with an effort at cheerfulness.Jane, too, suddenly recollecting herself, endeavoured to put on acareless smile, of welcome, but the effort failed her, and she burstinto a flood of tears.
Juxon, distressed and affected by the sight, made no reply toKatharine, but stood rivetted to the spot, hesitating whether heshould proceed towards the house, and leave Jane to recover herselfunder the care of her friend, or whether he should remain to renderwhat service he could, by diverting and calming a sorrow, the secretcause of which he fancied that he knew.
Meanwhile, Katharine pressed Jane to her heart, and, covering her fromobservation, as though she were a child, said, "This is the naturaleffect of a night without sleep, and a nervous headache: it will doher good; you need not stay with us; we shall do very well, and Janewill be all the brighter for it at supper. You will find my father inthe vineyard."
Jane, however, in part relieved by these tears, quickly raised herhead, and, with one of her most natural smiles dimpling her wetcheeks, said, "Pray do not let me drive you away: this is justnothing at all but what my old nurse used to call the mopes and themegrims: there, it is all over; that's one advantage we women haveover you lords of the creation; that is, such of us as are notheroines, which I shall never be for one: we may now and then have agood cry; and, take my word for it, it is a fine cure for allnonsenses,--another favourite noun plural of my dear old nurse when Iwas little and naughty." This flash of affected gaiety did only lightup her features, however, for a passing moment, and ere her few wordswere uttered an air of extreme depression returned upon her.
"Nay, Mistress Jane," said Juxon, "these are no child's tears, neitherare they fantastical like the melancholy of your fine lady: thefountain of them is deeper than any of these; you are unhappy. Here,before your noble friend, I must say that I have seen this for a longtime: for more than a year I have witnessed with deep pain youraltered manners and your failing health. Tell her the sad cause ofyour trouble; pour out your heart to her; she will safely advise andsurely comfort you."
"Really, Master Juxon," replied Jane, "you are a very strange person;and when you take a fancy into your head you are like good Sir Oliver,and truth would not drive it out again, though spoken by an angel,therefore a poor silly girl like me may not make the attempt."
"For that matter, lady, you can look and speak persuasively as everangel did: where do you hide your wings?"
"Wings!--well, really now, if I were a court lady instead of a rustic,and had that magic mirror that hides all freckles, and gives everybody that looks into it the face of a beauty, that fine complimentwould win my heart; but as it is, I must e'en be content to walk theearth on two serviceable feet; on which I shall very soon run fromyour words and looks, if you do not speak about a more entertainingsubject than me and my megrims."
The gravity of her eyes contradicted the gaiety of her lips, as shethus spoke; and the unuttered wish in the deep recesses of her heartwas, "Oh that I had the wings of a dove, that I might flee away, andbe at rest!"
Juxon looked upon her, for a moment, with a tender manly expression ofcountenance, in which were blended respectful pity and warmadmiration; then turning to Katharine, he changed the subject, anddiverted all further attention from Jane by telling the former uponwhat matter he was seeking Sir Oliver.
"I have just received a letter," said he, "from Oxford, from that fineyouth Arthur: it is both conceived and expr
essed in a spirit worthythe days of chivalry and of a man of mature age. He desires me to urgeupon Sir Oliver his brave request, which is, that he may be permittedto come down instantly and take the field with whatever men Sir Olivercan raise for the King's service. He says that it is useless to compelhim to remain at the University and pursue his studies in the presentdistracted state of public affairs, and that his age is not youngerthan that at which many a person renowned in history has appeared inarms for his country. The reason, it seems, of his preferring thisrequest through me is, that he has been sharply reprimanded by SirOliver for even thinking of it; for he has already decided to placeall the horsemen which he can raise under Sir Charles Lambert. Arthurtruly observes, that as the infirmities of Sir Oliver now forbid hisgoing to camp himself, it is right that a representative of his nameshould ride at the head of his tenants and yeomen; and that, althoughtoo young for a responsible charge, he can at least share theirdanger, and set a good example of devotion to the King's service. Thathe is quite willing to be under the command of Sir Charles Lambert;but that, if his present wish is refused, he will, at the risk of theworthy knight's displeasure, join the banner of the lords Falkland orCarnarvon as a simple volunteer."
To this statement Katharine listened with a generous admiration of thegallant boy, and a hearty approval of his conduct; moreover, she feltthat, by this arrangement, she should have a young protector, not onlyfor the family, but whom she could depend upon as a shield from thedreaded importunities of Sir Charles, and whose presence would takeaway one of her father's excuses for urging upon her an abhorredconnection. Of Arthur's conduct and character she felt sure: he lookedup to her with the reverence of a son and the affection of a brother;and though her heart beat with a regretted fondness for anotherHeywood, a cousin separated from her by fate and fortune, towards thisyouth Arthur she entertained the composed and quiet affection of ayoung mother or an elder sister; therefore she rejoiced at theprospect of his return to Milverton, and promised to say every thingto her father which could move him to consent to this proposal.
Juxon now left the ladies, and walked on at a faster pace towards thehouse.
As soon as he was out of hearing, Katharine took Jane by the hand, andlooking steadfastly into her face, said,--
"My dear, dear friend, it is the privilege of friendship, and it isthe enjoined duty of Christians, to weep with those that weep:--Juxonis right--you are unhappy--some secret sorrow is devouring yourinward peace--reveal it to me."
"Nay, Katharine, urge me not:--every heart knoweth its ownbitterness--to every one is appointed some inward cross, which isbetter borne in silence."
"Yet the sympathy of a friend is as a balm to the wounded spirit--abalm, Jane, which you have often poured gently and sweetly into mine,to the refreshment of my soul and the comfort of my achingheart;--besides, Jane, we must not let our private and inward griefsprey upon and consume our vital strength at a period like thepresent:--great trials are coming upon us, and severe duties will soondemand all our energies."
"I know it, beloved Katharine,--and by your side I can meet them all.You are to me, all things: I have nothing on earth but you to whom Ican cling: the stream of my heart would run to waste if it might notflow forth on you."
"Hush! beloved,--hush!--these words are vain,"--and pointing to theblue sky and the fleecy clouds above them, Katharine silentlyconveyed to Jane her soft reproof and gentle admonition.
"I know all that you would say to me," answered the mournful girl;"but, when all is said, how much of our present being must ever remaina mystery--sunbeams shine upon our heads, and violets spring beneathour feet--and yet, Kate, the world which this God of love hath createdis a scene of misery--you know it is. What have you ever done thatyour brow should be clouded with sorrow, and your cheek blanched bycare----"
"Stop, Jane; for your life, not another word like this:--'they buildtoo low who build below the sky:'--a curse is on this earth--arecorded curse--we may not, must not, cannot make a heaven of it:--itis our school, our place of discipline--the infancy of ourexistence:--what have any of us done, or what can any of us do, thatso many countless blessings should be poured upon us? that we shouldbe invited and taught to acquaint ourselves with that Holy One, bywhom came truth, pardon, and peace--through whom we may win anentrance to that heavenly city, where 'all tears shall be wiped fromall faces?'"
A light of hope beamed in her serious eyes as thus she spoke, and Janebeheld it with reverence. The friends walked slowly back towards thehouse--there was a long pause in their discourse. It was broken byJane asking, "You surely admit, dear cousin, that there is a vastdifference in the fortunes and the trials of mankind?"
"The seeming difference is vast, but not perhaps the real:--we seeonly the outward aspect of suffering and of prosperity--but the cup oflife is mixed."
"Surely to many, who are prosperous and happy, few trials areappointed:--they are pleasant in their lives, and honoured in theirdeaths; they appear even upon earth to be the favourites of Heaven."
"If truly such, my love, their portion in this life will be littlethought of; for they will know that in the bosom of Abraham theLazarus of this world has his high place of honour as of comfort, andthat the fashion of this world passeth away; nay, before the greatchange comes, one turn of the wheel may bring the loftiest fortunes tothe dust, and crush them beneath it; even now, do we not see and hearthe preparations of war?"
"There, again, Katharine,--how can we reconcile with the power of aGod of love the existence of so dark and terrible a curse as war?"
"It is but one of many forms of death."
"But the miseries in its violent and bloody path----"
"Are not so great as those of pestilence, or famine, or thehurricane."
"Well, Katharine, why pestilence, or famine, or hurricane?--_whydeath?_--and _whence sin?_"
"Jane, we know not now--we shall know hereafter; let us not perplexourselves with doubts and inquiries which none can solve; the originof evil lies hidden from our eyes; it is a deep thing--enough for usthat the Divine champion hath triumphed over sin--hath plucked thesting from death--and victory from the grave:--in and through him wemay all be conquerors."
"And can they so conquer if they be not followers of the Lamb?--andmay the followers of the Lamb fight and shed each other's blood inbattle?"
"It is sad, very sad," rejoined Katharine, with a shudder of her wholeframe: "it seems a stern necessity in the condition of all thekingdoms of this world that they should be defended by the sword. Goodmen, great men, the holiest servants of Heaven have wielded earthlyarms, and the weapons of death:--with his sword and with his bow thefather of the faithful led his own household to the combat,--and thevirtues of the warrior are the chosen illustrations of those requiredin the secret conflicts of the Christian."
"I know it, Katharine--and that to the spirit of Christian childrenthere must be joined the courage of sacred warriors. Alas! for me--myheart faints within me--my mind is confused:--I wish I were a man, forthen, in the excitement of these struggles, I could escape those ofthe closet."
"To suffer, Jane, requires a more enduring courage than to act; and inpatient suffering the high constancy of woman's mind hath ever shonemost purely:--for the wives of England bitter trials are coming--ourswill be light to theirs; and yours, dear girl, as you well know, lessheavy than even mine."
"Katharine, you do not know my trial, or you would not speakthus:--not a faithful and suffering wife in all England but I shallenvy her the sweetness of her sufferings: it is in storms that wecling most closely to what we love."
"True, fond girl, but remember that they may also divide us from whatwe love. Still there is a sweet truth in your melancholy words: Ithink you would be happy united to such a man as Juxon. He isevidently much attached to you; and I think you are not indifferent tohim."
"Cousin, he is worthy of a better fortune. He never can be mine."
"What is the meaning of that strong emphasis? Is, then, the secret ofyour sorrow a concealed att
achment to another?"
"Katharine, you see not clearly in this matter; I am pitied by Juxon,not loved."
"I know not, dear Jane, for what he should pity you; but pity is akinto love."
"And also to contempt:--Juxon despises me: yes, the pity of one sogenerous and noble hearted is heavy to bear."
"Impossible! he knows your sterling worth; he knows that you could notdo what was wrong: you utter many things that are idle; but I haveheard him warmly express his regard for your frank character; hisfaith in your high principles, and his fear that you judged others byyourself, and might in the trials of life prove too confiding towardsothers."
"Have you, indeed, Kate? what, lately?"
"Yes; not many days ago."
"Well, this is comfort; for I love him passing well:--keep my secret,Katharine; you know not how faithfully I have kept yours." As JaneLambert thus spoke, she took the hand of her fair cousin and pressedit against her beating heart. Katharine drew it away with a suddenagitation, and placing it on her pale forehead seemed to muse awhile:her eyes wore the expression of one that was wildly busy over themysterious tablets of her memory; at last, fixing them on Jane with atroubled gaze, "I have it," she said: "a light flashes on me; theinterview with Francis: it was observed by some one; it was known toJuxon, and you have borne----"
"Nothing that I would not bear again for the love of Katharine, andfor her peace of mind."
"Noblest of beings, alas! how am I punished for having thus employedyou! why did you not tell me all? May God forgive me! I never canforgive myself."
"Talk not thus," said Jane, rushing into her arms. "This moment richlyrepays whatever I have suffered: that which I may now safely relate toyou you could not have borne at the time, nor should I tell it evennow, if it were not that I know you will be seeking some explanationsfrom Juxon."
The generous girl now gave a minute narration of all that had passedbetween herself and Francis at their interview. She told how verydeeply she had been affected by the devotion with which he spoke ofKatharine, and by those looks and gestures which revealed theconstancy and the ardour of his love: the action so passionate towardsher, upon whom his mind's eye was inwardly resting, with which Francishad parted from herself, was not forgotten. The circumstance of herimmediately after meeting with Juxon, and the scene which passedbetween them, were described with the like fidelity.
A paleness as of marble overspread the face of Katharine; her eyesassumed a vacant regard; her hand became cold, and from her movinglips no sound was audible. She stood a while like one suddenly turnedto stone; and Jane, expecting her every instant to swoon away,supported her in trembling terror. It seemed an age of agony to Jane,though the trance did not last more than three awful minutes. Theeyelids of Katharine closed; tears glittered on the long dark lashes;warmth and consciousness returned. She slowly opened her eyes; and,fixing them on Jane with an affection no words could convey, sufferedherself to be led back in unbroken silence to the mansion.
CHAP. XX.
'Tis _jest_ to tell a people that they're free: _Who_ or _how many_ shall their _masters_ be Is the sole doubt. COWLEY.
Before the walls of Hull, in Yorkshire, King Charles was first madesensible that the powers and the prerogatives of the crown werealready usurped by the Parliament. Sir John Hotham shut the gates ofthe city, and refused to admit the small force by which the King wasattended.
The governor stood upon the wall, and the King, who had appointed himto that office of trust, sat upon his horse beneath, and heard asickening protestation of loyalty to his person, while the guards, towhom he intrusted its defence, were treated as the enemies of histhrone and kingdom. Here began that artful distinction, whereby theParliamentarians professed to keep garrisons and raise soldiers inthe name of the King, while they opposed his wishes and resisted hisauthority.
They had already taken from the King the power of the militia; andhaving compelled him to throw himself on the support of the privategentry, the flame of civil war was soon kindled.
At the time when his Majesty was thus repulsed by Sir John Hotham, hewas surrounded by a small company of gallant gentlemen, who had formedthemselves into a body guard; and he found himself, in a provinceremote from his capital, without a regiment, without money to raiseone, and without a single garrison or company of soldiers in allEngland receiving his pay or acknowledging the royal orders: the navy,the ordnance, stores, magazines, and the revenue, were in the keepingof the Parliament. His sole dependence was on the loyalty, thecourage, and the resources of the country gentlemen of England.
The midland counties were for the most part subjected to the influenceof the Parliament, and lay too near the city of London to resist oreven dispute the commands of that powerful assembly.
This body was no sooner apprised of the conduct of Hotham, andinformed that he had been proclaimed a traitor by the King, than theyopenly justified the conduct of that governor, and soon after publiclyvoted "that the King intended to levy war against the Parliament."This declaration was followed by active preparations for war on bothsides; but the advantages for commencing it were greatly on the sideof the Parliament; and the gentry in the west, and more especially inthe northern counties, were, at first, disheartened by the evidentdistraction of the King's counsel, and the gloomy aspect of hisaffairs.
Therefore, in Yorkshire, though many promises were given, few troopswere raised; and if Shropshire and Wales had not been animated by amore lively hope, and a warmer zeal, no royal army could ever haveappeared in the field.
Meanwhile the levies for the Parliament were very successful, and mencame in as fast as they could be received and armed. In addition tothese volunteers, the rustics drawn for the militia were compelled tojoin their corps, and were put under the training of such officers ascould be found.
In July, the Parliament voted the Earl of Essex their general of foot,and appointed the Earl of Bedford the commander of their horse; andearly in August declared themselves necessitated to take arms and tocommence hostilities.
These vigorous measures inspired their partisans throughout thekingdom with a resolute spirit, and in London not a voice was openlylifted up for the King.
As early as the month of May, Francis Heywood had procured hisservices to be accepted as captain of a troop of horse under Sir JohnBalfour, and was by him immediately appointed an instructor orsergeant-major[A] of cavalry.
[A] The titles of Sergeant-Major, and Sergeant-Major-General, at that period, correspond with Adjutant-Major and Adjutant-General of our times.
At such a moment, the zeal of Cuthbert Noble would not suffer him toremain behind, while so many were taking arms for the great, and, ashe thought, holy cause, of liberty. He did not find it difficult,through the favour of a friend, to obtain the grade of lieutenant in acompany of foot; and he set forth on a fine morning in June to join aregiment then assembled in quarters at the town of St. Albans, inHertfordshire, for training.
His finances did not admit of more than a very humbleequipment,--accordingly he was mounted on a low shambling pony, acrosswhich he had also placed the saddle bags containing his better gear,his Bible, and two or three violent pamphlets of the day againstprelacy and the divine right of kings.
Notwithstanding the heat of his opinions, and his hearty concurrencein the measures of the Parliament, Cuthbert, in his lonely hours, wasof that serious and solemn temper of mind, that he could not butreflect on the step he was now taking with more than his wontedgravity.
That his present course would be distressing to his father he wellknew; but he silenced this whisper of his better angel with theconsideration that his father was old, timid, and averse to change,rather from early prejudices and associations than from the light ofconscience and the use of right reason.
Again, with that obliquity of mind with which men who are in facttaking their own way wish to think it that appointed by Providence, heran over all the texts of Scripture then in the mouths of t
heRoundheads, as justifying their appeal to arms, and silenced all thelingering remonstrances that yet struggled in his bosom with thoseinapplicable words of Holy Writ, "He that loveth father or mother morethan me is not worthy of me."
Having thus, by forcibly wresting a quotation from Scripture, servedhis immediate purpose, and given freedom and tranquillity to hisspirit, he suffered his imagination to dress out the duties ofmilitary life in all their most sacred glory. The language of the OldTestament, and that of the profane authors with which he was familiar,were called up in a strange confusion to gild the prospect beforehim,--and now a song of triumph from his Bible, now a quotation fromHomer, was sounding on his lips, and ere he was aware was kindling avain and unholy ambition:--a secret and impious persuasion of thefavour and approval of Heaven filled him with a swelling anticipationof coming victories and high rewards. He resolved that the virtues ofthe Spartan or the Roman soldier should in his person be combined withthe ardour and the holiness of the most chosen warriors of Israel.
He saw not the lean and sorry nag beneath him; he thought not of thoseweary marches which he should have to make afoot, when the miserablejade on which he was now sitting astride his saddle bags should bestumbling along stony or miry ways in a train of baggage horses; buthe pictured out a future in which he should ride among the princes ofthe people, and in marches of triumph.
From this dream of his fancy he was suddenly and very effectuallyawakened by feeling the animal, which he was riding, sink under himwith an uneasy motion; and, before he could possibly prevent it, hefound the water of a considerable stream, which he was then fording,above his knees, and his saddle bags thoroughly soaked through. Thebeast had his own notions of enjoyment as well as his dreamy rider;and, as the day was hot, the road was dusty, and his burdensufficiently oppressive, had taken this very seasonable refreshment.
Nature suddenly asserted her power over the precise young Puritan;and, to the scandal of all his late professions, he gave vent to hiswrath in certain violent and unseemly phrases which would not havedisgraced the most accomplished swearer among the wild Cavaliers ofthat time. These oaths were but the accompaniments of sundry hardblows with a cudgel, kickings with the heel, and jerks of the rein, bydint of which the nag, unable to rebuke him for his injustice, wascompelled to rise and go forward. The accident was in itselfsufficiently provoking; and the irritation of Cuthbert was increasedby encountering on the bank an old beggar with a wooden leg, who,tossing his staff pike fashion, loudly asked his alms for an oldcrippled soldier done up in the wars; and, thrusting his tongue inhis cheek, eyed his foolish plight with a merry satisfaction, which hecould not conceal.
"Out upon thee!" said Cuthbert, "for an old drunken impostor:--suchfellows as you tippling bawlers of ballads are the curse of theland;--go scrape your cracked fiddle for sots on the ale bench, anddon't trouble honest men on their road."
"The lie in thy throat, thou prick-eared canting Roundhead!" repliedthe old soldier:--"thou foul-mouthed hypocrite! is it for thou to ratesinners after rattling out oaths like a shameless brawler in a beargarden? I am a cleaner spoken man than thou, blessings on him whotaught me, and more honest than to play traitor to my king:--God blesshis gracious Majesty! I wish him no better luck than that all theRoundheads, militia, and train-bands, horse and foot, were just such aset of raw awkward spoonies as yourself."
While he was yet speaking, Cuthbert's jade, as if moved by the veryspirit of mischief, shook her ears and was down in the middle of theloose dusty road, without better warning than before; for theattention of Cuthbert being quite taken up by his anger with the oldsoldier, he was again too late to prevent it. The dust plentifullyadhered to his legs, thighs, and saddle bags. He instantly dismountedin a rage, kicked the beast up again, drove it forward, and, turningshort round upon the old man, in a fury, said,--
"If it were not for your age and grey hairs, you insolent oldvagabond, I would rap your pate smartly with my cudgel."
"That were easier spoken than done," rejoined the old man, holding hisquarter staff lightly in a defensive posture.
A little dog, which accompanied the old man, perceiving by theseactions, and by the loudness of their speech, that the stranger wasquarrelling with his master, flew at Cuthbert with a sharp and angrybark, than which perhaps nothing does more inflame the rising choler;he, therefore, struck at the little animal furiously, and the end ofhis cudgel inflicted on it a sharp stroke, which sent it howling andyelping behind its master.
The old soldier, without a moment's loss of time, resented this injuryby so heavy and well placed a blow on the head of Cuthbert, that hissteeple-crowned hat was knocked off; and had it not been defendedwithin by the strong bars of iron with which it had been recentlyfitted for the wars, he would have gotten a severe bruise.
"He that touches my dog touches me," said the old man: "I am sorrythat I did not make thee feel it." The quarter staff of the beggarhad, by his stumbling and over-reaching himself, flown out of hishand, and his old rabbit-skin cap had fallen upon the ground:--a finepolished head thinly strewn with grey hairs lay bare andexposed.--"There, you may crack it if you will now," he added, raisingthe ineffectual defence of his arm.
"I am a man," said Cuthbert, "and not a brute: I would not strike theefor all my hot words; but I have been beside myself with passion. MayGod forgive me for my great offence against him--and do you forgiveme for the hard things I said to you, and the stroke I gave your dog."
So speaking, he picked up the old man's quarter staff and his cap, andgave them into his hands; at the same time taking a piece of silverout of his pocket, he tendered it with a look of good will--but thesoldier would not take it.
"It would do me no good," said he: "I should have no luck with it, andcould never relish the bread or beer it bought me."
"Then lay it out in dog's meat, friend: thy poor cur will haveforgotten my rude blow before thou hast forgiven my uncomfortablewords:--you wo'n't go to sleep in ill will with me, I hope."
"No, I shan't do that," rejoined the aged beggar,--"the good oldparson of Cheddar taught me better than that,--and I minds what hesaid as if it were yesterday--God bless him!--church and king forever, say I.--I wo'n't have your money."
Surprized and startled by this strange and unexpected mention of hisfather, Cuthbert drew from the old man the whole story of hisadventure at Cheddar, and his interview with Noble.
He listened with deep emotion to the narrative, and recognised in allthe circumstances the internal evidence of its truth, from its exactcorrespondence with the character of his father's mind and heart, andthose large and tolerant notions which he had always taught andcarried out into practice.
"I know that good parson well," said Cuthbert, "and love him like afather."
"Do you indeed?--then I'll take your money, and give you hearty thanksfor it.--But I say, young master, if you knows the parson of Cheddarso well, it's my belief your taking the wrong road:--a man can't servetwo masters--without you do call God and the king two; and he thatserves God first, and king the next after, must always be right, as Ihave heard say from the time I was the height of this quarter staff."
Cuthbert gave him two pieces, and walked on in a humbled and in nosatisfied frame of mind.
His poor beast, like a patient packhorse, was quietly browsing by theroad-side at no great distance, and Cuthbert drove it before him, notcaring to mount again till the sun and air had dried his wet breechesand hose.
The pettiness of the mortification which had moved him to suchungovernable anger was now lost in the most gloomy reflections on thesin of having so greatly dishonoured the commandments of God bycursing and swearing. Though naturally of a warm temper, he had neverbeen at all addicted to the odious use of vulgar oaths, and for awhilehe began to doubt the sincerity of his faith, and to imagine that thewhole work of religion must be entered upon as a new thing.
Again, the very strange circumstance of his father's image beingbrought before him in a manner so unexpected, by a way-side beggar,and the lesson
of charity, and the solemn monition to turn back fromthe party which he had chosen, conveyed by so lowly an instrument,perplexed his reason and staggered his resolution.
But the die was cast, the step was taken, and it was impossible forhim, even if willing, to recede without disgrace. He ran over in hismind all the wrongs and the oppressions which had been committed inthe name and with the sanction of the King. He recalled the sufferingsof Prynne and his companions. He remembered the tyrannical impositionof ship money; the noble resistance to that measure by Hampden, nowhimself in arms; the violence towards the Scots; the articlesexhibited against the five members; and, more than all, he consideredthat, if the King should conquer in the impending struggle, thedespotic rule of the crown would be established more firmly than ever;the hateful tribunal of the Star Chamber would be again erected;prelacy, armed with new powers, would rear its mitre on the ruins ofreligious liberty; and all those abuses in church and state, which hadcalled forth the famous Remonstrance of the Commons, and the Petitionof Rights founded on it, would most certainly be restored.
As these considerations passed through the mind of Cuthbert, he feltshame that he could for a moment have doubted the righteousness of thecause in which he had embarked. What was the little incident, whichhad so discomposed and ruffled him, when it was stripped naked? Hisnag had lain down in the water, and he had got a wetting. He shouldhave laughed it off, and so he would have done but for wounded pride.He was conscious of the poverty of his equipment, and yet more so ofhis unmilitary appearance;--that the witness of his accident shouldmock him, and be an old soldier to boot, was more than he could bear.He finally resolved all that had passed into a hellish temptation ofthe evil one to divert him from the path of Christian duty; and thuscomforting himself, and speaking peace to his heart, with a veryslight repentance for his plain transgression of God's law, herecovered his serenity. He now mounted his nag, and cheerfully pursuedhis way till the fine massive tower of St. Alban's Abbey reminded himthat he was near the place of his destination. He stopped under ashady tree a little off the road; brushed off the marks of his foolishmisadventure; adjusted his dress; buckled the belt of his rapier moretightly, and rode into the town with a wish that he might escapepresent observation, and get soon housed. But it so chanced that inthe narrow entrance of the very first street in St. Alban's Cuthbertmet the whole garrison marching forth to exercise. The leading rank ofmusketeers, forming the advanced guard, filled the width of the streetfrom house to house on either side of the way; therefore he was forcedto stop, and placing his pony close to the wall that he might prove assmall an obstacle as possible, saw the whole force pass him, andattracted the attention of them all. At any other time, and underother circumstances, he would have gazed upon the military show with anatural pleasure, and as it was, he looked upon them with muchcuriosity; but his position was very uncomfortable; and he felt smallas they filed by with a strong and measured tread, keeping time to afew loud drums and piercing fifes.
Several divisions of foot, composed of musketeers and pikemen in equalproportions, and each led by a mounted officer, and with theirappointed number of captains, lieutenants, and sergeants, followedeach other in succession; but there was a great difference in theirequipment and bearing.
The three leading divisions, amounting to nearly nine hundredeffective men, were a fine sample of the very best infantry which hadas yet been formed under the orders of the Parliament. Their clothingwas of a coarse red cloth: the belts and bandaliers of those who werearmed with muskets were of buff leather; and a girdle of double buff,eight inches broad, was worn under the skirts of the doublet. Themusketeers also wore black steeple-crowned hats, with small but strongbars of iron fastened under the felt. In addition to their muskets andrests, they were all provided with a good stiff tuck, not very long,so fixed in the belt as not to swing or incommode them.
The pikemen were furnished with good pikes, eighteen feet in length,with small steel heads, and good stiff tucks like those of themusketeers. They had also for defensive armour iron head pieces, withback and breast pieces of the same quality, pistol-proof, and each manwas provided with a good long buff glove for the left hand; they alsowore the broad buff girdle; the musketeers had bands about their hatsof a considerable width, finished in front with a rose of orangecloth, but they had no feathers or plumes; and there was a steadinessand severity in their whole aspect which commanded admiration. It wasone of the first regiments embodied, composed principally of a betterorder of volunteers, and commanded by a very strict and experiencedofficer. From these men Cuthbert had nothing to suffer: they weresilent in their ranks; and merely glanced at him as they passed withlooks of gloomy or proud indifference; but the regiment that followedwas a raw levy of militiamen just raised: they had arms, indeed, andwere divided already into musketeers and pikemen, like those whopreceded them; but their clothing and equipment was very incomplete,and few of the pikemen had either back or breast pieces. Of these,numbers had been drawn, reluctantly, from the neighbouring villages,to supply the quota of men required by the militia act, and wereenrolled with the mockery of an oath, by which they were sworn in, tofight "_for the King against the King_,"--a distinction which ofcourse the greater part of them could not understand. They only wantedto be left alone, and suffered to follow their ploughs in peace. Mostof them had some excuse to offer in the Shire Hall, and some story totell why they should not go for soldiers. This man had aged parents tosupport; another had a family of children; and that man had justmarried a wife. Others, who were not provided with such good excuses,feigned deafness, bad eyes, lame shoulders, weak ankle bones, fits,rheumatic pains, or some other disqualification, to escape the irksomeduties of praying and fighting under Puritan commanders. Many kissedtheir own thumbs instead of the Bible when they took their oaths ofservice, meaning to desert the first opportunity that offered; stillthere were numbers of idle rustics who came when they were called out,and did as they were bid, without further question; and these, inspite of their officers and sergeants, and Puritan comrades, contrivedtheir own amusements, and laughed at the grave preachments whichforbade them.
As a file of these young swains passed Cuthbert, one struck the end ofa lighted match under his pony's tail; and to the astonishment ofCuthbert, and the disturbance of the whole division following, thepoor animal, hitherto as lazy and patient as a laden donkey, begankicking with such sudden activity and vigour, that the rider had somedifficulty in keeping his seat. However, though inwardly vexed,Cuthbert stuck close to the saddle, and putting a good face on thevexatious incident disarmed the laughter which was at first generallyexcited by joining in it himself, till a humane sergeant plucked awaythe burning cause of the animal's pain and terror,--and the frightenedbeast stood still, trembling and in a bath of sweat. Until thismoment Cuthbert was at a loss to know what had so alarmed his pony;but he now alighted and made a complaint about what had been done toan officer that was passing.
The grave personage whom he addressed said, with a slysmile,--"Verily, friend, thy little garron was in the way, and Icounsel thee to patience in this matter:--there is no harm done, andverily thou didst stick to thy saddle like a sergeant-major ofcavalry."
Without waiting for any rejoinder, the officer marched on; and nosooner had the infantry defiled, than the shrill tones of a fewtrumpets announced the advance of four troops of horse. As these finemen walked their powerful animals along the street, they cast downlooks of contempt upon poor Cuthbert and his little hack; and he couldnot but feel that he had never as yet rightly conceived what were thenaked realities of soldiership. There were far more unpleasant andpainful experiences to come than the petty mortifications of this hisfirst contact with troops. However, he had a wise, generous, and noblefriend to instruct and arm his mind in the path on which he hadentered; and his spirit was now in its first moment of weakness andneed sustained and comforted by his appearance.
Immediately in the rear of this body of horse rode an officeradmirably mounted and equipped, and beneath his polished h
elmetCuthbert instantly recognised Francis Heywood. By this old campaignerhis position was seen and understood at a glance. He stopped, shookhands with him heartily, and desiring him to find out his quarter atthe house of a brewer in the next street, bade him give his baggagepony in charge to his batman, and occupy his apartment till theexercise should be over.
This was so great a lift and recovery to the sinking spirits ofCuthbert that he had no sooner put up his pony than he turned back andfollowed the troops to the plain where they were drawn out.
It was a fine sight to the unaccustomed eye to watch the evolutions ofthe musketeers and the pikemen, as the former advanced to skirmish andcover the movements of the more solid body, and again as they rapidlyretired, and, kneeling down in front of the close array of pikemen,awaited under the protection of their long pikes to receive the chargeof cavalry, and repulse it with a close and steady fire.
The sunbeams glittered on the steel heads of the tall pikes, and werereflected in a blaze from the breast and back pieces and the iron headpieces of the dragoons and the pikemen. The rolling of the drums, andthe blasts of trumpets, gave animation to the movements of the variousdivisions; and as the dragoons and musketeers were furnished with afew rounds of blank or practice cartridge in their bandaliers, themimic show of battle or the rehearsal of a scene of death was with themore select divisions very complete.
The words of command were given and repeated in loud firm tones; andthere was no lack with some of these stout Puritan commanders ofoaths, peculiar, indeed, to themselves, but as earnest and asblasphemous as those of any profane swearer in the royal army. Forinstance, to the dismay of Cuthbert, he heard a voice of thunderdirected against a dull but godly lieutenant of the very regimentwhich he was come to join with such a mild rebuke as, "The Lorddeliver thee to Satan, Master Whitefoot, for a blockhead: dost thounot know thy right hand from thy left?"--"Face to the left, man," wasthe concluding roar, "and slope thy partisan."
However, though our young Puritan lieutenant was a little astounded atthe chance of being soon subject to such rude addresses, he had goodsense enough to feel that men ought to know their right hands fromtheir left, and that it must be very provoking to a commandingofficer, and very perplexing and dangerous for others as well asthemselves, if they did not; but he was, nevertheless, a littlestartled and shocked at so violent and sinful a misapplication ofScripture.
However, he considered that the repulsive infirmities of the few oughtnot to outweigh the solid piety and the devoted patriotism of thegreat leaders of the Parliamentarian levies; and wisely resolvingalways to remember his right hand from his left, he joined Francisafter the exercise of the day was over, and passed an evening in hissociety with a more deep and rational delight in it than he had everbefore experienced during their previous intercourse.
Francis gave him so much sensible advice in trifles, as well as inmatters of moment, at his entrance on this new and strange course oflife, that when Cuthbert lay down to rest all his difficulties seemedto have vanished. He had been introduced by Francis to the commanderof the regiment he was to join, and to several other officers of horseas well as foot; and he soon discerned that there was as great avariety of character and of manners in this host of the Lord as inarmies assuming a less presumptuous title.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
LONDON: Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE, New-Street-Square.
