CHAPTER LVI.

RICHARD AND CASPAR.

I have now to recount a small adventure, to which it would scarcely be

worth while to afford a place, were it not for the important fact that

it opened to Richard a great window not only in Dorothy's history while

she lived at the castle, but, which was of far more importance, into the

character moulding that history--for character has far more to do with

determining history than history has to do with determining character.

Without the interview whose circumstances I am about to narrate, Richard

could not so soon at least have done justice to a character which had

been, if not keeping parallel pace with his own, yet advancing rapidly

in the same direction.

The decree of the parliament had gone forth that Raglan should be

destroyed. The same hour in which the sad news reached Caspar, he set

out to secure, if possible, the treasures he had concealed. He had

little fear of their being discovered, but great fear of their being

rendered inaccessible from the workshop.

Having reached the neighbourhood, he hired a horse and cart from a small

farmer whom he knew, and, taking the precaution to put on the dress of a

countryman, got on it and drove to the castle. The huge oaken leaves of

the brick gate, bound and riveted with iron, lay torn from their hinges,

and he entered unquestioned. But instead of the solitude of desertion,

for which he had hoped, he found the whole place swarming with country

people, men and women, most of them with baskets and sacks, while the

space between the outer defences and the moat of the castle itself was

filled with country vehicles of every description, from a wheelbarrow to

a great waggon.

When the most valuable of the effects found in the place had been

carried to London, a sale for the large remainder had been held on the

spot, at which not a few of the neighbouring families had been

purchasers. After all, however, a great many things were left unhid for,

which were not, from a money point of view--the sole one taken--worth

removing; and now the peasantry were, like jackals, admitted to pick the

bones of the huge carcase, ere the skeleton itself should be torn

asunder. Nor could the invading populace have been disappointed of their

expectations: they found numberless things of immense value in their

eyes, and great use in their meagre economy. For years, I might say

centuries after, pieces of furniture and panels of carved oak, bits of

tapestry, antique sconces and candlesticks of brass, ancient

horse-furniture, and a thousand things besides of endless interest, were

to be found scattered in farm-houses and cottages all over Monmouth and

neighbouring shires. I should not wonder if, even now in the third

century, and after the rage for the collection of such things has so

long prevailed, there were some of them still to be discovered in places

where no one has thought of looking.

When Caspar saw what was going on, he judged it prudent to turn and

drive his cart into the quarry, and having there secured it, went back

and entered the castle. There was a great divided torrent of humanity

rushing and lingering through the various lines of rooms, here meeting

in whirlpools, there parted into mere rivulets--man and woman searching

for whatever might look valuable in his or her eyes. Things that

nowadays would fetch their weight in silver, some of them even in gold,

were passed by as worthless, or popped into a bag to be carried home for

the amusement of cottage children. The noises of hobnailed shoes on the

oak floors, and of unrestrained clownish and churlish voices everywhere,

were tremendous. Here a fat cottager might be seen standing on a lovely

quilt of patchwork brocade, pulling down, rough in her cupidity,

curtains on which the new-born and dying eyes of generations of nobles

had rested, henceforth to adorn a miserable cottage, while her husband

was taking down the bed, larger perhaps, than the room itself in which

they would in vain try to set it up, or cruelly forcing a lid, which,

having a spring lock, had closed again after the carved chest had been

already rifled by the commissioner or his men. The kitchen was full of

squabbling women, and the whole place in the agonies of dissolution. But

there was a small group of persons, fortuitously met, but linked

together by an old painful memory of the place itself, strongly revived

by their present meeting, to whom a fanatical hatred of everything

catholic, coupled with a profound sense of personal injury, had

prevailed over avarice, causing them to leave the part of acquisition to

their wives, and aspire to that of pure destruction. It was the same

company, almost to a man, whose misadventures in their search of Raglan

for arms, under the misguidance of Tom Fool, I have related in an early

chapter. In their hearts they nursed a half-persuasion that Raglan had

fallen because of their wrongs within its walls, and the shame that

there had been heaped upon the godly.

These men, happening to meet, as I say, in the midst of the surrounding

tumult, had fallen into a conversation chiefly occupied with

reminiscences of that awful experience, whose terrors now looked like an

evil dream, and, in a place thus crowded with men and women, buzzing

with voices, and resounding with feet, as little likely to return as a

vanished thundercloud. In the course of their conversation, therefore,

they grew valiant; grew conscious next of a high calling, and resolved

therewith to take to themselves the honour of giving the first sweep of

the besom of destruction to Raglan Castle. Satisfying themselves first

therefore that their wives were doing their duty for their

household,--mistress Upstill was as good as two men at least at

appropriation,--they set out, Cast-down taking the lead, master

Sycamore, John Croning, and the rest following, armed with crowbars, for

the top of the great tower, ambitious to commence the overthrow by

attacking the very summit, the high places of wickedness, the crown of

pride; and after some devious wandering, at length found the way to the

stair.

When Caspar Kaltoff entered the castle, he made straight for the keep,

and to his delight found no one in the lower part. To make certain

however that he was alone in the place, ere he secured himself from

intrusion, he ran up the stair, gave a glance at the doors as he ran,

and reached the top just as Upstill in fierce discrowning pride was

heaving the first capstone from between two battlements. Caspar was

close by the cocks; instantly he turned one, and as the dislodged stone

struck the water of the moat, a sudden hollow roaring invaded their

ears, and while they stood aghast at the well-remembered sound, and ere

yet the marrow had time to freeze in their stupid bones, the very moat

itself into which they had cast the insulted stone, storming and

spouting, seemed to come rushing up to avenge it upon them were they

stood. The moment he turned the cock, Caspar shot half-way down the

stair, but as quietly as he could, and into a little chamber in the

wall, where stood two great vessels through which the pipes of the

fire-engine inside had communicated with the pipes in the wall outside.

There he waited until the steps which, long before he reached his

refuge, he heard come thundering down the stairs after him, had passed

in headlong haste, when he sprang up again to save the water for another

end, and to attach the drawbridge to the sluice, so that it would raise

it to its full height. Then he hurried down to the water trap under the

bridge and set it, after which he could hardly help wasting a little of

his precious time, lurking in a convenient corner to watch the result.

He had not to wait long. The shrieks of the yokels as they ran, and

their looks of horror when they appeared, quickly gathered around them a

gaping crowd to hear their tale, the more foolhardy in which, partly

doubting their word, for the fountains no longer played, and partly

ambitious of showing their superior courage, rushed to the Gothic

bridge. Down came the drawbridge with a clang, and with it in sheer

descent a torrent of water fit to sweep a regiment away, which shot

along the stone bridge and dashed them from it bruised and bleeding, and

half drowned with the water which in their terror and surprise found

easy way into their bodies. Caspar withdrew satisfied, for he now felt

sure of all the time he required to get some other things he had thought

of saving down into the shaft with the cabinet and chest.

Having effected this, and with much labour and difficulty, aided by

rollers, got all into the quarry and then into the cart, he did not

resist the temptation to go again amongst the crowd, and enjoy listening

to the various remarks and conjectures and terrors to which doubtless

his trick had given rise. He therefore got a great armful of trampled

corn from the field above, and laid it before his patient horse, then

ran round and re-entered the castle by the main gate.

He had not been in the crowd many minutes, however, when he saw

indications of suspicion ripening to conviction. What had given ground

for it he could not tell, but at some point he must have been seen on

the other side of the tower-moat. All this time Upstill and his party

had been recounting with various embellishment their adventures both

former and latter, and when Kaltoff was recognised, or at least

suspected in the crowd, the rumour presently arose and spread that he

was either the devil himself, or an accredited agent of that potentate.

'Be it then the old Satan himself?' Caspar heard a man say anxiously to

his neighbour, as he tried to get a look at his feet, which was not easy

in such a press. Caspar, highly amused, and thinking such evil

reputation would rather protect than injure him, showed some anxiety

about his feet, and made as if he would fain keep them out of the field

of observation. But thereupon he saw the faces and gestures of the

younger men begin to grow threatening; evidently anger was succeeding to

fear, and some of them, fired with the ambition possibly of thrashing

the devil, ventured to give him a rough shove or two from behind.

Neither outbreak of sulphurous flashes nor even kick of cloven hoof

following, they proceeded with the game, and rapidly advanced to such

extremities, expostulation in Caspar's broken English, for such in

excitement it always became, seeming only to act as fresh incitement and

justification, that at length he was compelled in self-defence to draw a

dagger. This checked them a little, and ere audacity had had time to

recover itself, a young man came shoving through the crowd, pushing them

all right and left until he reached Caspar, and stood by his side. Now

there was that about Richard Heywood to give him influence with a crowd:

he was a strong man and a gentleman, and they drew back.

'De fools dink I was de tuyfel!' said Caspar.

Richard turned upon them with indignation.

'You Englishmen!' he cried, 'and treat a foreigner thus!'

But there was nothing about him to show that he was a roundhead, and

from behind rose the cry: 'A malignant! A royalist!' and the fellows

near began again to advance threateningly.

'Mr. Heywood,' said Caspar hurriedly, for he recognised his helper from

the time he had seen him a prisoner, 'let us make for the hall. I know

the place and can bring us both off safe.'

It was one of Richard's greatest virtues that he could place much

confidence. He gave one glance at his companion, and said, 'I will do as

thou sayest.'

'Follow me then, sir,' said Caspar, and turning with brandished dagger,

he forced his way to the hall-door, Richard following with fists, his

sole weapons, defending their rear.

There were but few in the hall, and although their enemies came raging

after them, they were impeded by the crowd, so that there was time as

they crossed it for Caspar to say:

'Follow me over the bridge, but, for God's sake, put your feet exactly

where I put mine as we cross. You will see why in a moment after.'

'I will,' said Richard, and, delayed a little by needful care, gained

the other side just as the foremost of their pursuers rushed on the

bridge, and with a clang and a roar were swept from it by the descending

torrent.

They lost no time in explanations. Caspar hurried Richard to the

workshop, down the shaft, through the passage, and into the quarry,

whence, taking no notice of his cart, he went with him to the White

Horse, where Lady was waiting him.

And Richard was well rewarded for the kindness he had shown, for ere

they said good bye, the German, whose heart was full of Dorothy, and

understood, as indeed every one in the castle did, something of her

relation to Richard, had told him all he knew about her life in the

castle, and how she had been both before and during the siege a guardian

angel, as the marquis himself had said, to Raglan. Nor was the story of

her attempted visit to her old playfellow in the turret chamber, or the

sufferings she had to endure in consequence, forgotten; and when Caspar

and he parted, Richard rode home with fresh strength and light and love

in his heart, and Lady shared in them all somehow, for she constantly

reflected, or imaged rather, the moods of her master. As much as ever he

believed Dorothy mistaken, and yet could have kneeled in reverence

before her. He had himself tried to do the truth, and no one but he who

tries to do the truth can perceive the grandeur of another who does the

same. Alive to his own shortcomings, such a one the better understands

the success of his brother or sister: there the truth takes to him

shape, and he worships at her shrine. He saw more clearly than before

what he had been learning ever since she had renounced him, that it is

not correctness of opinion--could he be SURE that his own opinions were

correct?--that constitutes rightness, but that condition of soul which,

as a matter of course, causes it to move along the lines of truth and

duty--the LIFE going forth in motion according to the law of light: this

alone places a nature in harmony with the central Truth. It was in the

doing of the will of his Father that Jesus was the son of God--yea the

eternal son of the eternal Father.

Nor was this to make little of the truth intellectually considered--of

the FACT of things. The greatest fact of all is that we are bound to

obey the truth, and that to the full extent of our knowledge thereof,

however LITTLE that may be. This obligation acknowledged and OBEYED, the

road is open to all truth--and the ONLY road. The way to know is to do

the known.

Then why, thought Richard with himself, should he and Dorothy be parted?

Why should Dorothy imagine they should? All depended on their common

magnanimity, not the magnanimity that pardons faults, but the

magnanimity that recognises virtues. He who gladly kneels with one who

thinks largely wide from himself, in so doing draws nearer to the Father

of both than he who pours forth his soul in sympathetic torrent only in

the company of those who think like himself. If a man be of the truth,

then and only then is he of those who gather with the Lord.

In forms natural to the age and his individual thought, if not

altogether in such as I have here put down, Richard thus fashioned his

insights as he sauntered home upon Lady, his head above the clouds, and

his heart higher than his head--as it ought to be once or twice a day at

least. Poor indeed is any worldly success compared to a moment's

breathing in divine air, above the region where the miserable word

SUCCESS yet carries a meaning.

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