In the goodly form of the honest Mayor, there was a bustling mixture of
importance and embarrassment, like the deportment of a man who was
conscious that he had an important part to act, if he could but exactly
discover what that part was. But both were mingled with much pleasure
at seeing Everard, and he frequently repeated his welcomes and
all-hails before he could be brought to attend to what that gentleman
said in reply.
“Good, worthy Colonel, you are indeed a desirable sight to Woodstock at
all times, being, as I may say, almost our townsman, as you have dwelt
so much and so long at the palace. Truly, the matter begins almost to
pass my wit, though I have transacted the affairs of this borough for
many a long day; and you are come to my assistance like, like”—
“_Tanquam Deus ex machina_, as the Ethnic poet hath it,” said Master
Holdenough, “although I do not often quote from such books.—Indeed,
Master Markham Everard,—or worthy Colonel, as I ought rather to say—you
are simply the most welcome man who has come to Woodstock since the
days of old King Harry.”
“I had some business with you, my good friend,” said the Colonel,
addressing the Mayor; “I shall be glad if it should so happen at the
same time, that I may find occasion to pleasure you or your worthy
pastor.”
“No question you can do so, good sir;” interposed Master Holdenough;
“you have the heart, sir, and you have the hand; and we are much in
want of good counsel, and that from a man of action. I am aware, worthy
Colonel, that you and your worthy father have ever borne yourselves in
these turmoils like men of a truly Christian and moderate spirit,
striving to pour oil into the wounds of the land, which some would rub
with vitriol and pepper: and we know you are faithful children of that
church which we have reformed from its papistical and prelatical
tenets.”
“My good and reverend friend,” said Everard, “I respect the piety and
learning of many of your teachers; but I am also for liberty of
conscience to all men. I neither side with sectaries, nor do I desire
to see them the object of suppression by violence.”
“Sir, sir,” said the Presbyterian, hastily, “all this hath a fair
sound; but I would you should think what a fine country and church we
are like to have of it, amidst the errors, blasphemies, and schisms,
which are daily introduced into the church and kingdom of England, so
that worthy Master Edwards, in his Gangrena, declareth, that our native
country is about to become the very sink and cess-pool of all schisms,
heresies, blasphemies, and confusions, as the army of Hannibal was said
to be the refuse of all nations—_Colluvies omnium gentium_.—Believe me,
worthy Colonel, that they of the Honourable House view all this over
lightly, and with the winking connivance of old Eli. These instructors,
the schismatics, shoulder the orthodox ministers out of their pulpits,
thrust themselves into families, and break up the peace thereof,
stealing away men’s hearts from the established faith.”
“My good Master Holdenough,” replied the Colonel, interrupting the
zealous preacher, “there is ground of sorrow for all these unhappy
discords; and I hold with you, that the fiery spirits of the present
time have raised men’s minds at once above sober-minded and sincere
religion, and above decorum and common sense. But there is no help save
patience. Enthusiasm is a stream that may foam off in its own time,
whereas it is sure to bear down every barrier which is directly opposed
to it.—But what are these schismatical proceedings to our present
purpose?”
“Why, partly this, sir,” said Holdenough, “although perhaps you may
make less of it than I should have thought before we met.—I was
myself—I, Nehemiah Holdenough, (he added consequentially,) was forcibly
expelled from my own pulpit, even as a man should have been thrust out
of his own house, by an alien, and an intruder—a wolf, who was not at
the trouble even to put on sheep’s clothing, but came in his native
wolfish attire of buff and bandalier, and held forth in my stead to the
people, who are to me as a flock to the lawful shepherd. It is too
true, sir—Master Mayor saw it, and strove to take such order to prevent
it as man might, though,” turning to the Mayor, “I think still you
might have striven a little more.”
“Good now, good Master Holdenough, do not let us go back on that
question,” said the Mayor. “Guy of Warwick, or Bevis of Hampton, might
do something with this generation; but truly, they are too many and too
strong for the Mayor of Woodstock.”
“I think Master Mayor speaks very good sense,” said the Colonel; “if
the Independents are not allowed to preach, I fear me they will not
fight;—and then if you were to have another rising of cavaliers?”
“There are worse folks may rise than cavaliers,” said Holdenough.
“How, sir?” replied Colonel Everard. “Let me remind you, Master
Holdenough, that is no safe language in the present state of the
nation.”
“I say,” said the Presbyterian, “there are worse folk may rise than
cavaliers; and I will prove what I say. The devil is worse than the
worst cavalier that ever drank a health, or swore an oath—and the devil
has arisen at Woodstock Lodge!”
“Ay, truly hath he,” said the Mayor, “bodily and visibly, in figure and
form—An awful time we live in!”
“Gentlemen, I really know not how I am to understand you,” said
Everard.
“Why, it was even about the devil we came to speak with you,” said the
Mayor; “but the worthy minister is always so hot upon the sectaries”—
“Which are the devil’s brats, and nearly akin to him,” said Master
Holdenough. “But true it is, that the growth of these sects has brought
up the Evil One even upon the face of the earth, to look after his own
interest, where he finds it most thriving.”
“Master Holdenough,” said the Colonel, “if you speak figuratively, I
have already told you that I have neither the means nor the skill
sufficient to temper these religious heats. But if you design to say
that there has been an actual apparition of the devil, I presume to
think that you, with your doctrine and your learning, would be a fitter
match for him than a soldier like me.”
“True, sir; and I have that confidence in the commission which I hold,
that I would take the field against the foul fiend without a moment’s
delay,” said Holdenough; “but the place in which he hath of late
appeared, being Woodstock, is filled with those dangerous and impious
persons, of whom I have been but now complaining; and though, confident
in my own resources, I dare venture in disputation with their Great
Master himself; yet without your protection, most worthy Colonel, I see
not that I may with prudence trust myself with the tossing and goring
ox Desborough, or the bloody and devouring bear Harrison, or the cold
and poisonous snake Bletson—all of whom are now at the Lodge, doing
license and taking spoil as they think meet; and, as all men say, the
devil hath come to make a fourth with them.”
“In good truth, worthy and noble sir,” said the Mayor, “it is even as
Master Holdenough says—our privileges are declared void, our cattle
seized in the very pastures. They talk of cutting down and disparking
the fair Chase, which has been so long the pleasure of so many kings,
and making Woodstock of as little note as any paltry village. I assure
you we heard of your arrival with joy, and wondered at your keeping
yourself so close in your lodgings. We know no one save your father or
you, that are like to stand the poor burgesses’ friend in this
extremity, since almost all the gentry around are malignants, and under
sequestration. We trust, therefore, you will make strong intercession
in our behalf.”
“Certainly, Master Mayor,” said the Colonel, who saw himself with
pleasure anticipated; “it was my very purpose to have interfered in
this matter; and I did but keep myself alone until I should be
furnished with some authority from the Lord-General.”
“Powers from the Lord-General!” said the Mayor, thrusting the
clergy-man with his elbow—“Dost thou hear that?—What cock will fight
that cock?— We shall carry it now over their necks, and Woodstock shall
be brave Woodstock still!”
“Keep thine elbow from my side, friend,” said Holdenough, annoyed by
the action which the Mayor had suited to his words; “and may the Lord
send that Cromwell prove not as sharp to the people of England as thy
bones against my person! Yet I approve that we should use his authority
to stop the course of these men’s proceedings.”
“Let us set out, then,” said Colonel Everard; “and I trust we shall
find the gentlemen reasonable and obedient.”
The functionaries, laic and clerical, assented with much joy; and the
Colonel required and received Wildrake’s assistance in putting on his
cloak and rapier, as if he had been the dependent whose part he acted.
The cavalier contrived, however, while doing him these menial offices,
to give his friend a shrewd pinch, in order to maintain the footing of
secret equality betwixt them.
The Colonel was saluted, as they passed through the streets, by many of
the anxious inhabitants, who seemed to consider his intervention as
affording the only chance of saving their fine Park, and the rights of
the corporation, as well as of individuals, from ruin and confiscation.
As they entered the Park, the Colonel asked his companions, “What is
this you say of apparitions being seen amongst them?”
“Why, Colonel,” said the clergyman, “you know yourself that Woodstock
was always haunted?”
“I have lived therein many a day,” said the Colonel; “and I know I
never saw the least sign of it, although idle people spoke of the house
as they do of all old mansions, and gave the apartments ghosts and
spectres to fill up the places of as many of the deceased great, as had
ever dwelt there.”
“Nay, but, good Colonel,” said the clergyman, “I trust you have not
reached the prevailing sin of the times, and become indifferent to the
testimony in favour of apparitions, which appears so conclusive to all
but atheists, and advocates for witches?”
“I would not absolutely disbelieve what is so generally affirmed,” said
the Colonel; “but my reason leads me to doubt most of the stories which
I have heard of this sort, and my own experience never went to confirm
any of them.”
“Ay, but trust me,” said Holdenough, “there was always a demon of one
or the other species about this Woodstock. Not a man or woman in the
town but has heard stories of apparitions in the forest, or about the
old castle. Sometimes it is a pack of hounds, that sweep along, and the
whoops and halloos of the huntsmen, and the winding of horns and the
galloping of horse, which is heard as if first more distant, and then
close around you—and then anon it is a solitary huntsman, who asks if
you can tell him which way the stag has gone. He is always dressed in
green; but the fashion of his clothes is some five hundred years old.
This is what we call Demon Meridianum—the noon-day spectre.”
“My worthy and reverend sir,” said the Colonel, “I have lived at
Woodstock many seasons, and have traversed the Chase at all hours.
Trust me, what you hear from the villagers is the growth of their idle
folly and superstition.”
“Colonel,” replied Holdenough, “a negative proves nothing. What
signifies, craving your pardon, that you have not seen anything, be it
earthly or be it of the other world, to detract from the evidence of a
score of people who have?—And besides, there is the Demon Nocturnum—
the being that walketh by night; he has been among these Independents
and schismatics last night. Ay, Colonel, you may stare; but it is even
so—they may try whether he will mend their gifts, as they profanely
call them, of exposition and prayer. No, sir, I trow, to master the
foul fiend there goeth some competent knowledge of theology, and an
acquaintance of the humane letters, ay, and a regular clerical
education and clerical calling.”
“I do not in the least doubt,” said the Colonel, “the efficacy of your
qualifications to lay the devil; but still I think some odd mistake has
occasioned this confusion amongst them, if there has any such in
reality existed. Desborough is a blockhead, to be sure; and Harrison is
fanatic enough to believe anything. But there is Bletson, on the other
hand, who believes nothing.—What do you know of this matter, good
Master Mayor?”
“In sooth, and it was Master Bletson who gave the first alarm,” replied
the magistrate; “or, at least, the first distinct one. You see, sir, I
was in bed with my wife, and no one else; and I was as fast asleep as a
man can desire to be at two hours after midnight, when, behold you,
they came knocking at my bedroom door, to tell me there was an alarm in
Woodstock, and that the bell of the Lodge was ringing at that dead hour
of the night as hard as ever it rung when it called the court to
dinner.”
“Well, but the cause of this alarm?” said the Colonel.
“You shall hear, worthy Colonel, you shall hear,” answered the Mayor,
waving his hand with dignity; for he was one of those persons who will
not be hurried out of their own pace. “So Mrs. Mayor would have
persuaded me, in her love and affection, poor wretch, that to rise at
such an hour out of my own warm bed, was like to bring on my old
complaint the lumbago, and that I should send the people to Alderman
Dutton.—Alderman Devil, Mrs. Mayor, said I;—I beg your reverence’s
pardon for using such a phrase—Do you think I am going to lie a-bed
when the town is on fire, and the cavaliers up, and the devil to pay;—I
beg pardon again, parson.—But here we are before the gate of the
Palace; will it not please you to enter?”
“I would first hear the end of your story,” said the Colonel; “that is,
Master Mayor, if it happens to have an end.”
“Every thing hath an end,” said the Mayor, “and that which we call a
pudding hath two.—Your worship will forgive me for being facetious.
Where was I?—Oh, I jumped out of bed, and put on my red plush breeches,
with the blue nether stocks, for I always make a point of being dressed
suitably to my dignity, night and day, summer or winter, Colonel
Everard; and I took the Constable along with me, in case the alarm
should be raised by night-walkers or thieves, and called up worthy
Master Holdenough out of his bed, in case it should turn out to be the
devil. And so I thought I was provided for the worst, and so away we
came; and, by and by, the soldiers who came to the town with Master
Tomkins, who had been called to arms, came marching down to Woodstock
as fast as their feet would carry them; so I gave our people the sign
to let them pass us, and out-march us, as it were, and this for a
twofold reason.”
“I will be satisfied,” interrupted the Colonel, “with one good reason.
You desired the red-coats should have the _first_ of the fray?”
“True, sir, very true;—and also that they should have the _last_ of it,
in respect that fighting is their especial business. However, we came
on at a slow pace, as men who are determined to do their duty without
fear or favour, when suddenly we saw something white haste away up the
avenue towards the town, when six of our constables and assistants fled
at once, as conceiving it to be an apparition called the White Woman of
Woodstock.”
“Look you there, Colonel,” said Master Holdenough, “I told you there
were demons of more kinds than one, which haunt the ancient scenes of
royal debauchery and cruelty.”
“I hope you stood your own ground, Master Mayor?” said the Colonel.
“I—yes—most assuredly—that is, I did not, strictly speaking, keep my
ground; but the town-clerk and I retreated—retreated, Colonel, and
without confusion or dishonour, and took post behind worthy Master
Holdenough, who, with the spirit of a lion, threw himself in the way of
the supposed spectre, and attacked it with such a siserary of Latin as
might have scared the devil himself, and thereby plainly discovered
that it was no devil at all, nor white woman, neither woman of any
colour, but worshipful Master Bletson, a member of the House of
Commons, and one of the commissioners sent hither upon this unhappy
sequestration of the Wood, Chase, and Lodge of Woodstock.”
“And this was all you saw of the demon?” said the Colonel.
“Truly, yes,” answered the Mayor; “and I had no wish to see more.
However, we conveyed Master Bletson, as in duty bound, back to the
Lodge, and he was ever maundering by the way how that he met a party of
scarlet devils incarnate marching down to the Lodge; but, to my poor
thinking, it must have been the Independent dragoons who had just
passed us.”
“And more incarnate devils I would never wish to see,” said Wildrake,
who could remain silent no longer. His voice, so suddenly heard, showed
how much the Mayor’s nerves were still alarmed, far he started and
jumped aside with an alacrity of which no one would at first sight
suppose a man of his portly dignity to have been capable. Everard
imposed silence on his intrusive attendant; and, desirous to hear the
conclusion of this strange story, requested the Mayor to tell him how
the matter ended, and whether they stopped the supposed spectre.
“Truly, worthy sir,” said the Mayor, “Master Holdenough was quite
venturous upon confronting, as it were, the devil, and compelling him
to appear under the real form of Master Joshua Bletson, member of
Parliament for the borough of Littlefaith.”
“In sooth, Master Mayor,” said the divine, “I were strangely ignorant
of my own commission and its immunities, if I were to value opposing
myself to Satan, or any Independent in his likeness, all of whom, in
the name of Him I serve, I do defy, spit at, and trample under my feet;
and because Master Mayor is something tedious, I will briefly inform
your honour that we saw little of the Enemy that night, save what
Master Bletson said in the first feeling of his terrors, and save what
we might collect from the disordered appearance of the Honourable
Colonel Desborough and Major-General Harrison.”
“And what plight were they in, I pray you?” demanded the Colonel.
“Why, worthy sir, every one might see with half an eye that they had
been engaged in a fight wherein they had not been honoured with perfect
victory; seeing that General Harrison was stalking up and down the
parlour, with his drawn sword in his hand, talking to himself, his
doublet unbuttoned, his points untrussed, his garters loose, and like
to throw him down as he now and then trode on them, and gaping and
grinning like a mad player. And yonder sate Desborough with a dry
pottle of sack before him, which he had just emptied, and which, though
the element in which he trusted, had not restored him sense enough to
speak, or courage enough to look over his shoulder. He had a Bible in
his hand, forsooth, as if it would of itself make battle against the
Evil One; but I peered over his shoulder, and, alas! the good gentleman
held the bottom of the page uppermost. It was as if one of your
musketeers, noble and valued sir, were to present the butt of his piece
at the enemy instead of the muzzle—ha, ha, ha! it was a sight to judge
of schismatics by; both in point of head, and in point of heart, in
point of skill, and in point of courage. Oh! Colonel, then was the time
to see the true character of an authorised pastor of souls over those
unhappy men, who leap into the fold without due and legal authority,
and will, forsooth, preach, teach, and exhort, and blasphemously term
the doctrine of the Church saltless porridge and dry chips!”
“I have no doubt you were ready to meet the danger, reverend sir; but I
would fain know of what nature it was, and from whence it was to be
apprehended?”
“Was it for me to make such inquiry?” said the clergyman, triumphantly.
“Is it for a brave soldier to number his enemies, or inquire from what
quarter they are to come? No, sir, I was there with match lighted,
bullet in my mouth, and my harquebuss shouldered, to encounter as many
devils as hell could pour in, were they countless as motes in the
sunbeam, and although they came from all points of the compass. The
Papists talk of the temptation of St. Anthony—pshaw! let them double
all the myriads which the brain of a crazy Dutch painter hath invented,
and you will find a poor Presbyterian divine—I will answer for one at
least,—who, not in his own strength, but his Master’s, will receive the
assault in such sort, that far from returning against him as against
yonder poor hound, day after day, and night after night, he will at
once pack them off as with a vengeance to the uttermost parts of
Assyria!”
“Still,” said the Colonel, “I pray to know whether you saw anything
upon which to exercise your pious learning?”
“Saw?” answered the divine; “no, truly, I saw nothing, nor did I look
for anything. Thieves will not attack well-armed travellers, nor will
devils or evil spirits come against one who bears in his bosom the word
of truth, in the very language in which it was first dictated. No, sir,
they shun a divine who can understand the holy text, as a crow is said
to keep wide of a gun loaded with hailshot.”
They had walked a little way back upon their road, to give time for
this conversation; and the Colonel, perceiving it was about to lead to
no satisfactory explanation of the real cause of alarm on the preceding
night, turned round, and observing it was time they should go to the
Lodge, began to move in that direction with his three companions.
It had now become dark, and the towers of Woodstock arose high above
the umbrageous shroud which the forest spread around the ancient and
venerable mansion. From one of the highest turrets, which could still
be distinguished as it rose against the clear blue sky, there gleamed a
light like that of a candle within the building. The Mayor stopt short,
and catching fast hold of the divine, and then of Colonel Everard,
exclaimed, in a trembling and hasty, but suppressed tone,
“Do you see yonder light?”
“Ay, marry do I,” said Colonel Everard; “and what does that matter?—a
light in a garret-room of such an old mansion as Woodstock is no
subject of wonder, I trow.”
“But a light from Rosamond’s Tower is surely so,” said the Mayor.
“True,” said the Colonel, something surprised, when, after a careful
examination, he satisfied himself that the worthy magistrate’s
conjecture was right. “That is indeed Rosamond’s Tower; and as the
drawbridge, by which it was accessible has been destroyed for
centuries, it is hard to say what chance could have lighted a lamp in
such an inaccessible place.”
“That light burns with no earthly fuel,” said the Mayor; “neither from
whale nor olive oil, nor bees-wax, nor mutton-suet either. I dealt in
these commodities, Colonel, before I went into my present line; and I
can assure you I could distinguish the sort of light they give, one
from another, at a greater distance than yonder turret—Look you, that
is no earthly flame.—See you not something blue and reddish upon the
edges?— that bodes full well where it comes from.—Colonel, in my
opinion we had better go back to sup at the town, and leave the Devil
and the red-coats to settle their matters together for to-night; and
then when we come back the next morning, we will have a pull with the
party that chances to keep a-field.”
“You will do as you please, Master Mayor,” said Everard, “but my duty
requires me that I should see the Commissioners to-night.”
“And mine requires me to see the foul Fiend,” said Master Holdenough,
“if he dare make himself visible to me. I wonder not that, knowing who
is approaching, he betakes himself to the very citadel, the inner and
the last defences of this ancient and haunted mansion. He is dainty, I
warrant you, and must dwell where is a relish of luxury and murder
about the walls of his chamber. In yonder turret sinned Rosamond, and
in yonder turret she suffered; and there she sits, or more likely, the
Enemy in her shape, as I have heard true men of Woodstock tell. I wait
on you, good Colonel—Master Mayor will do as he pleases. The strong man
hath fortified himself in his dwelling-house, but lo, there cometh
another stronger than he.”
“For me,” said the Mayor, “who am as unlearned as I am unwarlike, I
will not engage either—with the Powers of the Earth, or the Prince of
the Powers of the Air, and I would we were again at Woodstock;—and hark
ye, good fellow,” slapping Wildrake on the shoulder, “I will bestow on
thee a shilling wet and a shilling dry if thou wilt go back with me.”
“Gadzookers, Master Mayor,” said, Wildrake, neither flattered by the
magistrate’s familiarity of address, nor captivated by his munificence—
“I wonder who the devil made you and me fellows? and, besides, do you
think I would go back to Woodstock with your worshipful cods-head,
when, by good management, I may get a peep of fair Rosamond, and see
whether she was that choice and incomparable piece of ware, which the
world has been told of by rhymers and ballad-makers?”
“Speak less lightly and wantonly, friend,” said the divine; “we are to
resist the devil that he may flee from us, and not to tamper with him,
or enter into his counsels, or traffic with the merchandise of his
great Vanity Fair.”
“Mind what the good man says, Wildrake,” said the Colonel; “and take
heed another time how thou dost suffer thy wit to outrun discretion.”
“I am beholden to the reverend gentleman for his advice,” answered
Wildrake, upon whose tongue it was difficult to impose any curb
whatever, even when his own safety rendered it most desirable. “But,
gadzookers, let him have had what experience he will in fighting with
the Devil, he never saw one so black as I had a tussle with—not a
hundred years ago.”
“How, friend,” said the clergyman, who understood every thing literally
when apparitions were mentioned, “have you had so late a visitation of
Satan? Believe me, then, that I wonder why thou darest to entertain his
name so often and so lightly, as I see thou dost use it in thy ordinary
discourse. But when and where didst thou see the Evil One?”
Everard hastily interposed, lest by something yet more strongly
alluding to Cromwell, his imprudent squire should, in mere wantonness,
betray his interview with the General. “The young man raves,” he said,
“of a dream which he had the other night, when he and I slept together
in Victor Lee’s chamber, belonging to the Ranger’s apartments at the
Lodge.”
“Thanks for help at a pinch, good patron,” said Wildrake, whispering
into Everard’s ear, who in vain endeavoured to shake him off,—“a fib
never failed a fanatic.”
“You, also, spoke something too lightly of these matters, considering
the work which we have in hand, worthy Colonel,” said the Presbyterian
divine. “Believe me, the young man, thy servant, was more likely to see
visions than to dream merely idle dreams in that apartment; for I have
always heard, that, next to Rosamond’s Tower, in which, as I said, she
played the wanton, and was afterwards poisoned by Queen Eleanor, Victor
Lee’s chamber was the place in the Lodge of Woodstock more peculiarly
the haunt of evil spirits.—I pray you, young man, tell me this dream or
vision of yours.”
“With all my heart, sir,” said Wildrake—then addressing his patron, who
began to interfere, he said, “Tush, sir, you have had the discourse for
an hour, and why should not I hold forth in my turn? By this darkness,
if you keep me silent any longer, I will turn Independent preacher, and
stand up in your despite for the freedom of private judgment.—And so,
reverend sir, I was dreaming of a carnal divertisement called a
bull-baiting; and methought they were venturing dogs at head, as
merrily as e’er I saw them at Tutbury bull-running; and methought I
heard some one say, there was the Devil come to have a sight of the
bull-ring. Well, I thought that, gadswoons, I would have a peep at his
Infernal Majesty. So I looked, and there was a butcher in greasy
woollen, with his steel by his side; but he was none of the Devil. And
there was a drunken cavalier, with his mouth full of oaths, and his
stomach full of emptiness, and a gold-laced waistcoat in a very
dilapidated condition, and a ragged hat,—with a piece of a feather in
it; and he was none of the Devil neither. And here was a miller, his
hands dusty with meal, and every atom of it stolen; and there was a
vintner, his green apron stained with wine, and every drop of it
sophisticated; but neither was the old gentleman I looked for to be
detected among these artisans of iniquity. At length, sir, I saw a
grave person with cropped hair, a pair of longish and projecting ears,
a band as broad as a slobbering bib under his chin, a brown coat
surmounted by a Geneva cloak, and I had old Nicholas at once in his
genuine paraphernalia, by—.”
“Shame, shame!” said Colonel Everard. “What! behave thus to an old
gentleman and a divine!”
“Nay, let him proceed,” said the minister, with perfect equanimity: “if
thy friend, or secretary, is gibing, I must have less patience than
becomes my profession, if I could not bear an idle jest, and forgive
him who makes it. Or if, on the other hand, the Enemy has really
presented himself to the young man in such a guise as he intimates,
wherefore should we be surprised that he, who can take upon him the
form of an angel of light, should be able to assume that of a frail and
peaceable mortal, whose spiritual calling and profession ought, indeed,
to induce him to make his life an example to others; but whose conduct,
nevertheless, such is the imperfection of our unassisted nature,
sometimes rather presents us with a warning of what we should shun?”
“Now, by the mass, honest domine—I mean reverend sir—I crave you a
thousand pardons,” said Wildrake, penetrated by the quietness and
patience of the presbyter’s rebuke. “By St. George, if quiet patience
will do it, thou art fit to play a game at foils with the Devil
himself, and I would be contented to hold stakes.”
As he concluded an apology, which was certainly not uncalled for, and
seemed to be received in perfectly good part, they approached so close
to the exterior door of the Lodge, that they were challenged with the
emphatic _Stand_, by a sentinel who mounted guard there. Colonel
Everard replied, _A friend_; and the sentinel repeating his command,
“Stand, friend,” proceeded to call the corporal of the guard. The
corporal came forth, and at the same time turned out his guard. Colonel
Everard gave his name and designation, as well as those of his
companions, on which the corporal said, “he doubted not there would be
orders for his instant admission; but, in the first place, Master
Tomkins must be consulted, that he might learn their honours’ mind.”
“How, sir!” said the Colonel, “do you, knowing who I am, presume to
keep me on the outside of your post?”
“Not if your honour pleases to enter,” said the corporal, “and
undertakes to be my warranty; but such are the orders of my post.”
“Nay, then, do your duty,” said the Colonel; “but are the cavaliers up,
or what is the matter, that you keep so close and strict a watch?”
The fellow gave no distinct answer, but muttered between his mustaches
something about the Enemy, and the roaring Lion who goeth about seeking
whom he may devour. Presently afterwards Tomkins appeared, followed by
two servants, bearing lights in great standing brass candlesticks. They
marched before Colonel Everard and his party, keeping as close to each
other as two cloves of the same orange, and starting from time to time;
and shuddering as they passed through sundry intricate passages, they
led up a large and ample wooden staircase, the banisters, rail, and
lining of which were executed in black oak, and finally into a long
saloon, or parlour, where there was a prodigious fire, and about twelve
candles of the largest size distributed in sconces against the wall.
There were seated the Commissioners, who now held in their power the
ancient mansion and royal domain of Woodstock.