Meanwhile, a great crowd had collected beneath the window, and though no
interruption was offered to the speaker, it was easy to discern from the
angry countenances of his hearers what was the effect of the address
upon them. When he had done, Hugh Calveley folded his arms upon his
breast, and sternly regarded the assemblage.
He was well-stricken in years, as his grizzled hair and beard denoted,
but neither was his strength impaired, nor the fire of his eye dimmed.
Squarely built, with hard and somewhat massive features, strongly
stamped with austerity, he was distinguished by a soldier-like
deportment and manner, while his bronzed countenance, which bore upon it
more than one cicatrice, showed he must have been exposed to foreign
suns, and seen much service. There was great determination about the
mouth, and about the physiognomy generally, while at the same time there
was something of the wildness of fanaticism in his looks. He was habited
in a buff jerkin, with a brown, lackered, breast-plate over it,
thigh-pieces of a similar colour and similar material, and stout
leathern boots. A broad belt with a heavy sword attached to, it crossed
his breast, and round his neck was a plain falling band. You could not
regard Hugh Calveley without feeling he was a man to die a martyr in any
cause he had espoused.
A deep groan was now directed against him. But it moved not a muscle of
his rigid countenance.
Jocelyn began to fear from the menacing looks of the crowd that some
violence might be attempted, and he endeavoured to check it.
"Bear with him, worthy friends," he cried, "he means you well, though he
may reprove you somewhat too sharply."
"Beshrew him for an envious railer," cried a miller, "he mars all our
pleasures with his peevish humours. He would have us all as discontented
with the world as himself--but we know better. He will not let us have
our lawful sports as enjoined by the King himself on Sundays, and he now
tries to interfere with our recreations on holidays. A pest upon him for
a cankerbitten churl!"
"His sullen looks are enough to turn all the cream in the village sour,"
observed an old dame.
"Why doth he not betake himself to the conventicle and preach there?"
old Greenford cried. "Why should we have all these bitter texts of
scripture thrown at our heads? Why should we be likened to the drunkards
of Ephraim because we drink our Whitsun-ales? I have tasted nothing
more than my morning cup as yet."
"Why should our May-pole be termed an idol? Answer me that, good
grandsire?" Gillian demanded.
"Nay, let him who called it so answer thee, child, for I cannot," the
old farmer rejoined. "I can see naught idolatrous in it."
"Why should our pretty May Queen be despoiled of her ornaments because
they please not his fanatical taste?" Dick Taverner demanded. "For my
part I can discern no difference between a Puritan and a knave, and I
would hang both."
This sally met with a favourable reception from the crowd, and a voice
exclaimed--"Ay, hang all knavish Puritans."
Again Hugh Calveley lifted up his voice. "Think not to make me afraid,"
he cried; "I have confronted armed hosts with boldness when engaged in a
worse cause than this, and I am not likely to give way before a base
rabble, now that I have become a soldier of Christ and fight his
battles. I repeat my warnings to you, and will not hold my peace till
you give heed to them. Continue not in the sins of the Gentiles lest
their punishment come upon you. These are fearful times we live in.
London is become another Nineveh, and will be devoured by flames like
that great city. It is full of corruption and debauchery, of
oppressions, thefts, and deceits. With the prophet Nahum I exclaim--'Wo
to the city, it is full of lies and robbery! What griping usury, what
extortion are practised within it! What fraud, what injustice, what
misrule! But the Lord's anger will be awakened against it. Palaces of
kings are of no more account in His eyes than cottages of peasants.--He
cutteth off the spirits of Princes: he is terrible to the Kings of the
earth.' He knoweth no difference between them that sit on thrones, and
those that go from door to door. For what saith the prophet Isaiah?--'I
will punish the stout heart of the King of Assyria, and the glory of his
high looks.' Let the Great Ones of the land be warned as well as the
meanest, or judgment will come upon them."
"Methinks that smacks of treason," cried Dick Taverner. "Our Puritan has
quitted us poor fowl to fly at higher game. Hark ye, Sir!" he added to
Hugh Calveley. "You would not dare utter such words as those in the
King's presence."
"Thou art mistaken, friend," the other rejoined. "It is my purpose to
warn him in terms strong as those I have just used. Why should I hold my
peace when I have a mission from on high? I shall speak to the King as
Nathan spoke to David."
"He speaks like a prophet," cried the miller; "I begin to have faith in
him. No doubt the iniquities of London are fearful."
"If he preach against extortioners and usurers only, I am with him,"
Dick Taverner said. "If he rid London of Sir Giles Mompesson and his
peers he will do good service--still better, if he will put down
corruption and injustice as exhibited in the Court of Star-Chamber--eh,
Master Jocelyn Mounchensey?"
At the mention of this name the Puritan appeared greatly surprised, and
looked round inquiringly, till his eye alighted upon the young man.
After regarding him for a moment fixedly, he demanded--"Art thou Jocelyn
Mounchensey?"
The young man, equally surprised, replied in the affirmative.
"The son of Sir Ferdinando Mounchensey, of Massingham, in Norfolk?"
inquired the Puritan.
"The same," Jocelyn answered.
"Thy father was my nearest and dearest friend, young man," Hugh Calveley
said; "and thy father's son shall be welcome to my dwelling. Enter, I
pray of you. Yet pause for a moment. I have a word more to declare to
these people. Ye heed not my words, and make a mock of me," he
continued, addressing the assemblage: "but I will give you a sign that I
have spoken the truth."
"He will bring the devil among us, I trow," cried Dick Taverner.
"'Tis to be hoped he will not split the May-pole with a thunderbolt,"
said the miller.
"Nor spoil our Whitsun-ales," cried old Greenford.
"Nor lame our Hobby-horse," said one of the mummers.
"Nor rob me of my wreath and garlands," said Gillian.
"That he shall not, I promise you, fair May Queen!" Dick Tavernor
rejoined, gallantly.
"I will do none of these things. I would not harm you, even if I had the
power," the Puritan said. "But I will discharge a bolt against the head
of yon idol," he added, pointing towards the flower-crowned summit of
the May-pole; "and if I break its neck and cast it down, ye will own
that a higher hand than mine directs the blow, and that the
superstitious symbol ought not to be left standing."
"As to what we may do, or what we may acknowledge, we will give no
promise, Master Hugh Calveley," rejoined old Greenford. "But e'en let
fly thy bolt, if thou wilt."
Some dissent was offered to this singular proposition, but the majority
of voices overruled it; and withdrawing for a moment, Hugh Calveley
returned with an arbalist, which he proceeded deliberately to arm in
view of the crowd, and then placed a quarrel within it.
"In the name of the Lord, who cast down the golden idol made by Aaron
and the Israelites, I launch this bolt," he cried, as he took aim, and
liberated the cord.
The short, iron-headed, square-pointed arrow whizzed through the air,
and, by the mischief it did as it hit its mark, seemed to confirm the
Puritan's denunciation. Striking the May-pole precisely at the summit,
it shattered the wood, and brought down the floral crown surmounting it,
as well as the topmost streamers.
The spectators stared aghast.
"Be warned by this," thundered Hugh Calveley, with gloomy triumph. "Your
idol is smitten--not by my hand, but by His who will chastise your
wickedness."
Whereupon he closed the window, and departed. Presently afterwards, the
door was opened by an old, grave-looking, decently-clad serving-man.
Addressing Jocelyn, who had already dismounted and given his horse in
charge to the youth engaged for a similar purpose by Dick Taverner, this
personage invited him, in his master's name, to enter; and, with a heart
throbbing with emotion, the young man complied. Chance seemed to
befriend him in a way he could never have anticipated; and he now hoped
to obtain an interview with Aveline.
His conductor led him through a passage to a large chamber at the back
of the house, with windows looking upon a garden. The room was panelled
with dark shining oak, had a polished floor, an immense chimney-piece,
and a moulded ceiling. Within it were a few high-backed chairs, and
some other cumbrous furniture, while on an oak table at the side, was
spread the simple morning repast of the Puritan and his daughter. But
all these things were lost upon Jocelyn, who had eyes only for one
object. She was there, and how lovely she appeared! How exquisite in
figure--how faultless in feature! Some little embarrassment was
discoverable in her manner as the young man entered; but it quickly
disappeared. Her father was with her; and advancing towards Jocelyn, he
took him kindly by the hand, and bade him welcome. Then, without
relinquishing his grasp, he presented the young man to his daughter,
saying--
"This is Jocelyn, the son of my dear departed friend, Sir Ferdinando
Mounchensey. Some inscrutable design of Providence has brought him
hither, and right glad I am to behold him. Years ago, his father
rendered me a signal service, which I requited as I best could; and
there is nothing I would not gladly do for the son of such a friend. You
will esteem him accordingly, Aveline."
"I will not fail in my duty, father," she replied, blushing slightly.
And Jocelyn thought these words were the sweetest he had ever heard
pronounced.
"I would pray you to break your fast with us, if our simple fare will
content you," said Hugh Calveley, pointing to the table.
"I am not over-dainty, and shall do ample justice to whatever is set
before me," Jocelyn replied, smiling.
"It is well," said the Puritan. "I am glad to find the son of my old
friend is not a slave to his appetites, as are most of the young men of
this generation."
With this they approached the board; and, a lengthy grace being
pronounced by Hugh Calveley, Jocelyn sat down by the side of Aveline,
scarcely able to believe in the reality of his own happiness--so like a
dream it seemed.