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. Casper 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, Casper 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. Casper 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.

St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3 · 第 18 / 21 章