Peveril of the Peak

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  'Tis the black ban-dog of our jail--Pray look on him, But at a wary distance--rouse him not-- He bays not till he worries. --THE BLACK DOG OF NEWGATE.

  The coach stopped before those tremendous gates, which resemble thoseof Tartarus, save only that they rather more frequently permit safe andhonourable egress; although at the price of the same anxiety andlabour with which Hercules, and one or two of the demi-gods, extricatedthemselves from the Hell of the ancient mythology, and sometimes, it issaid, by the assistance of the golden boughs.

  Julian stepped out of the vehicle, carefully supported on either side byhis companions, and also by one or two turnkeys, whom the first summonsof the deep bell at the gate had called to their assistance. Thatattention, it may be guessed, was not bestowed lest he should make afalse step, so much as for fear of his attempting an escape, of whichhe had no intentions. A few prentices and straggling boys of theneighbouring market, which derived considerable advantage from increaseof custom, in consequence of the numerous committals on account of thePopish Plot, and who therefore were zealous of Protestants, saluted himon his descent with jubilee shouts of "Whoop, Papist! whoop, Papist!D----n to the Pope, and all his adherents!"

  Under such auspices, Peveril was ushered in beneath that gloomy gateway,where so many bid adieu on their entrance at once to honour and to life.The dark and dismal arch under which he soon found himself opened upona large courtyard, where a number of debtors were employed in playingat handball, pitch-and-toss, hustle-cap, and other games, for whichrelaxations the rigour of their creditors afforded them full leisure,while it debarred them the means of pursuing the honest labour by whichthey might have redeemed their affairs, and maintained their starvingand beggared families.

  But with this careless and desperate group Julian was not to benumbered, being led, or rather forced, by his conductors, into a lowarched door, which, carefully secured by bolts and bars, opened forhis reception on one side of the archway, and closed, with all itsfastenings, the moment after his hasty entrance. He was then conductedalong two or three gloomy passages, which, where they intersected eachother, were guarded by as many strong wickets, one of iron gates, andthe others of stout oak, clinched with plates, and studded with nailsof the same metal. He was not allowed to pause until he found himselfhurried into a little round vaulted room, which several of thesepassages opened into, and which seemed, with respect to the labyrinththrough part of which he had passed, to resemble the central point of aspider's web, in which the main lines of that reptile's curious maze arealways found to terminate.

  The resemblance did not end here; for in this small vaulted apartment,the walls of which were hung round with musketoons, pistols, cutlasses,and other weapons, as well as with many sets of fetters and irons ofdifferent construction, all disposed in great order, and ready foremployment, a person sat, who might not unaptly be compared to a hugebloated and bottled spider, placed there to secure the prey which hadfallen into his toils.

  This official had originally been a very strong and square-built man,of large size, but was now so overgrown, from overfeeding, perhaps, andwant of exercise, as to bear the same resemblance to his former selfwhich a stall-fed ox still retains to a wild bull. The look of no man isso inauspicious as a fat man, upon whose features ill-nature has markedan habitual stamp. He seems to have reversed the old proverb of "laughand be fat," and to have thriven under the influence of the worstaffections of the mind. Passionate we can allow a jolly mortal to be;but it seems unnatural to his goodly case to be sulky and brutal. Nowthis man's features, surly and tallow-coloured; his limbs, swelled anddisproportioned; his huge paunch and unwieldy carcass, suggested theidea, that, having once found his way into this central recess, hehad there fattened, like the weasel in the fable, and fed largely andfoully, until he had become incapable of retreating through any of thenarrow paths that terminated at his cell; and was thus compelled toremain, like a toad under the cold stone, fattening amid the squalidairs of the dungeons by which he was surrounded, which would haveproved pestiferous to any other than such a congenial inhabitant. Hugeiron-clasped books lay before this ominous specimen of pinguitude--therecords of the realm of misery, in which office he officiated as primeminister; and had Peveril come thither as an unconcerned visitor,his heart would have sunk within him at considering the mass of humanwretchedness which must needs be registered in these fatal volumes.But his own distresses sat too heavy on his mind to permit any generalreflections of this nature.

  The constable and this bulky official whispered together, after theformer had delivered to the latter the warrant of Julian's commitment.The word _whispered_ is not quite accurate, for their communication wascarried on less by words than by looks and expressive signs; by which,in all such situations, men learn to supply the use of language, and toadd mystery to what is in itself sufficiently terrible to the captive.The only words which could be heard were those of the Warden, or, ashe was called then, the Captain of the Jail, "Another bird to thecage----?"

  "Who will whistle 'Pretty Pope of Rome,' with any starling in yourKnight's ward," answered the constable, with a facetious air, checked,however, by the due respect to the supreme presence in which he stood.

  The Grim Feature relaxed into something like a smile as he heard theofficer's observation; but instantly composing himself into the sternsolemnity which for an instant had been disturbed, he looked fiercely athis new guest, and pronounced with an awful and emphatic, yet rather anunder-voice, the single and impressive word, "_Garnish!_"

  Julian Peveril replied with assumed composure; for he had heard of thecustoms of such places, and was resolved to comply with them, so as ifpossible to obtain the favour of seeing his father, which he shrewdlyguessed must depend on his gratifying the avarice of the keeper. "I amquite ready," he said, "to accede to the customs of the place in whichI unhappily find myself. You have but to name your demands, and I willsatisfy them."

  So saying, he drew out his purse, thinking himself at the same timefortunate that he had retained about him a considerable sum of gold. TheCaptain remarked its width, depth, its extension, and depression, withan involuntary smile, which had scarce contorted his hanging under-lip,and the wiry and greasy moustache which thatched the upper, when it waschecked by the recollection that there were regulations which set boundsto his rapacity, and prevented him from pouncing on his prey like akite, and swooping it all off at once.

  This chilling reflection produced the following sullen reply toPeveril:--"There were sundry rates. Gentlemen must choose forthemselves. He asked nothing but his fees. But civility," he muttered,"must be paid for."

  "And shall, if I can have it for payment," said Peveril; "but the price,my good sir, the price?"

  He spoke with some degree of scorn, which he was the less anxious torepress, that he saw, even in this jail, his purse gave him an indirectbut powerful influence over his jailer.

  The Captain seemed to feel the same; for, as he spoke, he plucked fromhis head, almost involuntarily, a sort of scalded fur-cap, which servedit for covering. But his fingers revolting from so unusual an act ofcomplaisance, began to indemnify themselves by scratching his grizzlyshock-head, as he muttered, in a tone resembling the softened growlingof a mastiff when he has ceased to bay the intruder who shows no fear ofhim,--"There are different rates. There is the Little Ease, for commonfees of the crown--rather dark, and the common sewer runs below it;and some gentlemen object to the company, who are chiefly padders andmichers. Then the Master's side--the garnish came to one piece--and nonelay stowed there but who were in for murder at the least."

  "Name your highest price, sir, and take it," was Julian's concise reply.

  "Three pieces for the Knight's ward," answered the governor of thisterrestrial Tartarus.

  "Take five, and place me with Sir Geoffrey," was again Julian's answer,throwing down the money upon the desk before him.

  "Sir Geoffrey?--Hum!--ay, Sir Geoffrey,"
said the jailer, as ifmeditating what he ought to do. "Well, many a man has paid money to seeSir Geoffrey--Scarce so much as you have, though. But then you are liketo see the last of him.--Ha, ha ha!"

  These broken muttered exclamations, which terminated somewhat like thejoyous growl of a tiger over his meal, Julian could not comprehend; andonly replied to by repeating his request to be placed in the same cellwith Sir Geoffrey.

  "Ay, master," said the jailer, "never fear; I'll keep word with you, asyou seem to know something of what belongs to your station and mine. Andhark ye, Jem Clink will fetch you the darbies."

  "Derby!" interrupted Julian,--"Has the Earl or Countess----"

  "Earl or Countess!--Ha, ha, ha!" again laughed, or rather growled, thewarden. "What is your head running on? You are a high fellow belike!but all is one here. The darbies are the fetlocks--the fast-keepers,my boy--the bail for good behaviour, my darling; and if you are notthe more conforming, I can add you a steel nightcap, and a curiousbosom-friend, to keep you warm of a winter night. But don't bedisheartened; you have behaved genteel; and you shall not be put upon.And as for this here matter, ten to one it will turn out chance-medley,or manslaughter, at the worst on it; and then it is but a singed thumbinstead of a twisted neck--always if there be no Papistry about it, forthen I warrant nothing.--Take the gentleman's worship away, Clink."

  A turnkey, who was one of the party that had ushered Peveril into thepresence of this Cerberus, now conveyed him out in silence; and, underhis guidance, the prisoner was carried through a second labyrinth ofpassages with cells opening on each side, to that which was destined forhis reception.

  On the road through this sad region, the turnkey more than onceejaculated, "Why, the gentleman must be stark-mad! Could have had thebest crown cell to himself for less than half the garnish, and must paydouble to pig in with Sir Geoffrey! Ha, ha!--Is Sir Geoffrey akin toyou, if any one may make free to ask?"

  "I am his son," answered Peveril sternly, in hopes to impose some curbon the fellow's impertinence; but the man only laughed louder thanbefore.

  "His son!--Why, that's best of all--Why, you are a strapping youth--fivefeet ten, if you be an inch--and Sir Geoffrey's son!--Ha, ha, ha!"

  "Truce with your impertinence," said Julian. "My situation gives you notitle to insult me!"

  "No more I do," said the turnkey, smothering his mirth at therecollection, perhaps, that the prisoner's purse was not exhausted."I only laughed because you said you were Sir Geoffrey's son. But nomatter--'tis a wise child that knows his own father. And here is SirGeoffrey's cell; so you and he may settle the fatherhood between you."

  So saying, he ushered his prisoner into a cell, or rather a strong roomof the better order, in which there were four chairs, a truckle-bed, andone or two other articles of furniture.

  Julian looked eagerly around for his father; but to his surprise theroom appeared totally empty. He turned with anger on the turnkey, andcharged him with misleading him; but the fellow answered, "No, no,master; I have kept faith with you. Your father, if you call him so, isonly tappiced in some corner. A small hole will hide him; but I'll rousehim out presently for you.--Here, hoicks!--Turn out, Sir Geoffrey!--Hereis--Ha, ha, ha!--your son--or your wife's son--for I think you have butlittle share in him--come to wait on you."

  Peveril knew not how to resent the man's insolence; and indeed hisanxiety, and apprehension of some strange mistake, mingled with, and insome degree neutralised his anger. He looked again and again, around andaround the room; until at length he became aware of something rolled upin a dark corner, which rather resembled a small bundle of crimson cloththan any living creature. At the vociferation of the turnkey, however,the object seemed to acquire life and motion, uncoiled itself in somedegree, and, after an effort or two, gained an erect posture; stillcovered from top to toe with the crimson drapery in which it was atfirst wrapped. Julian, at the first glance, imagined from the size thathe saw a child of five years old; but a shrill and peculiar tone ofvoice soon assured him of his mistake.

  "Warder," said this unearthly sound, "what is the meaning of thisdisturbance? Have you more insults to heap on the head of one who hathever been the butt of fortune's malice? But I have a soul that canwrestle with all my misfortunes; it is as large as any of your bodies."

  "Nay, Sir Geoffrey, if this be the way you welcome your own son!" saidthe turnkey; "but you quality folks know your own ways best."

  "My son!" exclaimed the little figure. "Audacious----"

  "Here is some strange mistake," said Peveril, in the same breath. "Isought Sir Geoffrey----"

  "And you have him before you, young man," said the pigmy tenant of thecell, with an air of dignity; at the same time casting on the floor hiscrimson cloak, and standing before them in his full dignity of threefeet six inches of height. "I who was the favoured servant of threesuccessive Sovereigns of the Crown of England, am now the tenant of thisdungeon, and the sport of its brutal keepers. I am Sir Geoffrey Hudson."

  Julian, though he had never before seen this important personage, hadno difficulty in recognising, from description, the celebrated dwarf ofHenrietta Maria, who had survived the dangers of civil war and privatequarrel--the murder of his royal master, Charles I., and the exile ofhis widow--to fall upon evil tongues and evil days, amidst the unsparingaccusations connected with the Popish Plot. He bowed to the unhappy oldman, and hastened to explain to him, and to the turnkey, that it wasSir Geoffrey Peveril, of Martindale Castle in Derbyshire whose prison hedesired to share.

  "You should have said that before you parted with the gold-dust, mymaster," answered the turnkey; "for t'other Sir Geoffrey, that is thebig, tall, grey-haired man, was sent to the Tower last night; and theCaptain will think he has kept his word well enow with you, by lodgingyou with this here Sir Geoffrey Hudson, who is the better show of thetwo."

  "I pray you go to your master," said Peveril; "explain the mistake; andsay to him I beg to be sent to the Tower."

  "The Tower!--Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed the fellow. "The Tower is for lordsand knights, and not for squires of low degree--for high treason, andnot for ruffing on the streets with rapier and dagger; and there must goa secretary's warrant to send you there."

  "At least, let me not be a burden on this gentleman," said Julian."There can be no use in quartering us together, since we are not evenacquainted. Go tell your master of the mistake."

  "Why, so I should," said Clink, still grinning, "if I were not sure thathe knew it already. You paid to be sent to Sir Geoffrey, and he sent youto Sir Geoffrey. You are so put down in the register, and he will blotit for no man. Come, come, be comfortable, and you shall have light andeasy irons--that's all I can do for you."

  Resistance and expostulation being out of the question, Peverilsubmitted to have a light pair of fetters secured on his ankles, whichallowed him, nevertheless, the power of traversing the apartment.

  During this operation, he reflected that the jailer, who had taken theadvantage of the equivoque betwixt the two Sir Geoffreys, must haveacted as his assistant had hinted, and cheated him from malice prepense,since the warrant of committal described him as the son of Sir GeoffreyPeveril. It was therefore in vain, as well as degrading, to make fartherapplication to such a man on the subject. Julian determined to submit tohis fate, as what could not be averted by any effort of his own.

  Even the turnkey was moved in some degree by his youth, good mien,and the patience with which, after the first effervescence ofdisappointment, the new prisoner resigned himself to his situation. "Youseem a brave young gentleman," he said; "and shall at least have a gooddinner, and as good a pallet to sleep on, as is within the walls ofNewgate.----And, Master Sir Geoffrey, you ought to make much of him,since you do not like tall fellows; for I can tell you that MasterPeveril is in for pinking long Jack Jenkins, that was the Master ofDefence--as tall a man as in London, always excepting the King's Porter,Master Evans, that carried you about in his pocket, Sir Geoffrey, as allthe world heard tell."

  "Begone, fellow!" answered
the dwarf. "Fellow, I scorn you!"

  The turnkey sneered, withdrew, and locked the door behind him.