----What seem’d its head,
The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
--PARADISE LOST.
Sodor, or Holm-Peel, so is named the castle to which our Julian directed
his course early on the following morning, is one of those extraordinary
monuments of antiquity with which this singular and interesting island
abounds. It occupies the whole of a high rocky peninsula, or rather
an island, for it is surrounded by the sea at high-water, and scarcely
accessible even when the tide is out, although a stone causeway, of
great solidity, erected for the express purpose, connects the island
with the mainland. The whole space is surrounded by double walls of
great strength and thickness; and the access to the interior, at the
time which we treat of, was only by two flights of steep and narrow
steps, divided from each other by a strong tower and guard-house; under
the former of which, there is an entrance-arch. The open space within
the walls extends to two acres, and contains many objects worthy
of antiquarian curiosity. There were besides the castle itself, two
cathedral churches, dedicated, the earlier to St. Patrick, the latter to
St. Germain; besides two smaller churches; all of which had become, even
in that day, more or less ruinous. Their decayed walls, exhibiting the
rude and massive architecture of the most remote period, were composed
of a ragged grey-stone, which formed a singular contrast with the bright
red freestone of which the window-cases, corner-stones, arches, and
other ornamental parts of the building, were composed.
Besides these four ruinous churches, the space of ground enclosed by the
massive exterior walls of Holm-Peel exhibited many other vestiges of the
olden time. There was a square mound of earth, facing, with its angles
to the points of the compass, one of those motes, as they were called,
on which, in ancient times, the northern tribes elected or recognised
their chiefs, and held their solemn popular assemblies, or _comitia_.
There was also one of those singular towers, so common in Ireland as
to have proved the favourite theme of her antiquaries; but of which the
real use and meaning seems yet to be hidden in the mist of ages. This
of Holm-Peel had been converted to the purpose of a watch-tower.
There were, besides, Runic monuments, of which legends could not be
deciphered; and later inscriptions to the memory of champions, of
whom the names only were preserved from oblivion. But tradition and
superstitious eld, still most busy where real history is silent, had
filled up the long blank of accurate information with tales of Sea-kings
and Pirates, Hebridean Chiefs and Norwegian Resolutes, who had formerly
warred against, and in defence of, this famous castle. Superstition,
too, had her tales of fairies, ghosts, and spectres--her legions of
saints and demons, of fairies and of familiar spirits, which in no
corner of the British empire are told and received with more absolute
credulity than in the Isle of Man.
Amidst all these ruins of an older time arose the Castle itself,--now
ruinous--but in Charles II.’s reign well garrisoned, and, in a military
point of view, kept in complete order. It was a venerable and very
ancient building, containing several apartments of sufficient size
and height to be termed noble. But in the surrender of the island by
Christian, the furniture had been, in a great measure, plundered or
destroyed by the republican soldiers; so that, as we have before
hinted, its present state was ill adapted for the residence of the noble
proprietor. Yet it had been often the abode, not only of the Lords of
Man, but of those state prisoners whom the Kings of Britain sometimes
committed to their charge.
In this Castle of Holm-Peel the great king-maker, Richard, Earl of
Warwick, was confined, during one period of his eventful life, to
ruminate at leisure on his farther schemes of ambition. And here, too,
Eleanor, the haughty wife of the good Duke of Gloucester, pined out in
seclusion the last days of her banishment. The sentinels pretended that
her discontented spectre was often visible at night, traversing the
battlements of the external walls, or standing motionless beside a
particular solitary turret of one of the watch-towers with which they
are flanked; but dissolving into air at cock-crow, or when the bell
tolled from the yet remaining tower of St. Germain’s church.
Such was Holm-Peel, as records inform us, till towards the end of the
seventeenth century.
It was in one of the lofty but almost unfurnished apartments of this
ancient Castle that Julian Peveril found his friend the Earl of Derby,
who had that moment sat down to a breakfast composed of various sorts
of fish. “Welcome, most imperial Julian,” he said; “welcome to our royal
fortress; in which, as yet, we are not like to be starved with hunger,
though well-nigh dead for cold.”
Julian answered by inquiring the meaning of this sudden movement.
“Upon my word,” replied the Earl, “you know nearly as much of it as I
do. My mother has told me nothing about it; supposing I believe, that
I shall at length be tempted to inquire; but she will find herself much
mistaken. I shall give her credit for full wisdom in her proceedings,
rather than put her to the trouble to render a reason, though no woman
can render one better.”
“Come, come; this is affectation, my good friend,” said Julian. “You
should inquire into these matters a little more curiously.”
“To what purpose?” said the Earl. “To hear old stories about the Tinwald
laws, and the contending rights of the lords and the clergy, and all
the rest of that Celtic barbarism, which, like Burgesse’s thorough-paced
doctrine enters at one ear, paces through, and goes out at the other?”
“Come, my lord,” said Julian, “you are not so indifferent as you would
represent yourself--you are dying of curiosity to know what this hurry
is about; only you think it the courtly humour to appear careless about
your own affairs.”
“Why, what should it be about,” said the young Earl “unless some
factious dispute between our Majesty’s minister, Governor Nowel, and
our vassals? or perhaps some dispute betwixt our Majesty and the
ecclesiastical jurisdictions? for all which our Majesty cares as little
as any king in Christendom.”
“I rather suppose there is intelligence from England,” said Julian.
“I heard last night in Peel-town, that Greenhalgh is come over with
unpleasant news.”
“He brought me nothing that was pleasant, I wot well,” said the Earl.
“I expected something from St. Evremond or Hamilton--some new plays by
Dryden or Lee, and some waggery or lampoons from the Rose Coffee-house;
and the fellow has brought me nothing but a parcel of tracts about
Protestants and Papists, and a folio play-book, one of the conceptions,
as she calls them, of that old mad-woman the Duchess of Newcastle.”
“Hush, my lord, for Heaven’s sake,” said Peveril; “here comes the
Countess; and you know she takes fire at the least slight to her ancient
friend.”
“Let her read her ancient friend’s works herself, then,” said the Earl,
“and think her as wise as she can; but I would not give one of Waller’s
songs, or Denham’s satires, for a whole cart-load of her Grace’s
trash.--But here comes our mother with care on her brow.”
The Countess of Derby entered the apartment accordingly, holding in her
hand a number of papers. Her dress was a mourning habit, with a deep
train of black velvet, which was borne by a little favourite attendant,
a deaf and dumb girl, whom, in compassion to her misfortune, the
Countess had educated about her person for some years. Upon this
unfortunate being, with the touch of romance which marked many of her
proceedings, Lady Derby had conferred the name of Fenella, after some
ancient princess of the island. The Countess herself was not much
changed since we last presented her to our readers. Age had rendered her
step more slow, but not less majestic; and while it traced some wrinkles
on her brow, had failed to quench the sedate fire of her dark eye. The
young men rose to receive her with the formal reverence which they knew
she loved, and were greeted by her with equal kindness.
“Cousin Peveril,” she said (for so she always called Julian, in respect
of his mother being a kinswoman of her husband), “you were ill abroad
last night, when we much needed your counsel.”
Julian answered with a blush which he could not prevent, “That he had
followed his sport among the mountains too far--had returned late--and
finding her ladyship was removed from Castletown, had instantly followed
the family hither; but as the night-bell was rung, and the watch set, he
had deemed it more respectful to lodge for the night in the town.”
“It is well,” said the Countess; “and, to do you justice, Julian, you
are seldom a truant neglecter of appointed hours, though, like the rest
of the youth of this age, you sometimes suffer your sports to consume
too much of time that should be spent otherwise. But for your friend
Philip, he is an avowed contemner of good order, and seems to find
pleasure in wasting time, even when he does not enjoy it.”
“I have been enjoying my time just now at least,” said the Earl, rising
from table, and picking his teeth carelessly. “These fresh mullets are
delicious, and so is the Lachrymæ Christi. I pray you to sit down
to breakfast, Julian, and partake the goods my royal foresight has
provided. Never was King of Man nearer being left to the mercy of the
execrable brandy of his dominions. Old Griffiths would never, in the
midst of our speedy retreat of last night, have had sense enough to
secure a few flasks, had I not given him a hint on that important
subject. But presence of mind amid danger and tumult, is a jewel I have
always possessed.”
“I wish, then, Philip, you would exert it to better purpose,” said the
Countess, half smiling, half displeased; for she doated upon her son
with all a mother’s fondness, even when she was most angry with him for
being deficient in the peculiar and chivalrous disposition which had
distinguished his father, and which was so analogous to her own romantic
and high-minded character. “Lend me your signet,” she added with a sigh;
“for it were, I fear, vain to ask you to read over these despatches
from England, and execute the warrants which I have thought necessary to
prepare in consequence.”
“My signet you shall command with all my heart, madam,” said Earl
Philip; “but spare me the revision of what you are much more capable to
decide upon. I am, you know, a most complete _Roi fainéant_, and never
once interfered with my _Maire de palais_ in her proceedings.”
The Countess made signs to her little train-bearer, who immediately went
to seek for wax and a light, with which she presently returned.
In the meanwhile the Countess continued, addressing Peveril. “Philip
does himself less than justice. When you were absent, Julian (for if
you had been here I would have given you the credit of prompting your
friend), he had a spirited controversy with the Bishop, for an attempt
to enforce spiritual censures against a poor wretch, by confining her in
the vault under the chapel.” [*]
[*] Beneath the only one of the four churches in Castle Rushin, which
is or was kept a little in repair, is a prison or dungeon, for
ecclesiastical offenders. “This,” says Waldron, “is certainly one
of the most dreadful places that imagination can form; the sea
runs under it through the hollows of the rock with such a
continual roar, that you would think it were every moment breaking
in upon you, and over it are the vaults for burying the dead. The
stairs descending to this place of terrors are not above thirty,
but so steep and narrow, that they are very difficult to go down,
a child of eight or nine years not being able to pass them but
sideways.”--WALDRON’S _Description of the Isle of Man, in his
Works_, p. 105, folio.
“Do not think better of me than I deserve,” said the Earl to Peveril;
“my mother has omitted to tell you the culprit was pretty Peggy of
Ramsey, and her crime what in Cupid’s courts would have been called a
peccadillo.”
“Do not make yourself worse than you are,” replied Peveril, who observed
the Countess’s cheek redden,--“you know you would have done as much for
the oldest and poorest cripple in the island. Why, the vault is under
the burial-ground of the chapel, and, for aught I know, under the ocean
itself, such a roaring do the waves make in its vicinity. I think no one
could remain there long, and retain his reason.”
“It is an infernal hole,” answered the Earl, “and I will have it built
up one day--that is full certain.--But hold--hold--for God’s sake,
madam--what are you going to do?--Look at the seal before you put it to
the warrant--you will see it is a choice antique cameo Cupid, riding
on a flying fish--I had it for twenty zechins, from Signor Furabosco at
Rome--a most curious matter for an antiquary, but which will add little
faith to a Manx warrant.
“My signet--my signet--Oh! you mean that with the three monstrous
legs, which I supposed was devised as the most preposterous device, to
represent our most absurd Majesty of Man.--The signet--I have not seen
it since I gave it to Gibbon, my monkey, to play with.--He did whine for
it most piteously--I hope he has not gemmed the green breast of ocean
with my symbol of sovereignty!”
“Now, by Heaven,” said the Countess, trembling, and colouring deeply
with anger, “it was your father’s signet! the last pledge which he sent,
with his love to me, and his blessing to thee, the night before they
murdered him at Bolton!”
“Mother, dearest mother,” said the Earl, startled out of his apathy, and
taking her hand, which he kissed tenderly, “I did but jest--the signet
is safe--Peveril knows that it is so.--Go fetch it, Julian, for Heaven’s
sake--here are my keys--it is in the left-hand drawer of my travelling
cabinet--Nay, mother, forgive me--it was but a _mauvaise plaisanterie_;
only an ill-imagined jest, ungracious, and in bad taste, I allow--but
only one of Philip’s follies. Look at me, dearest mother, and forgive
me.”
The Countess turned her eyes towards him, from which the tears were fast
falling.
“Philip,” she said, “you try me too unkindly, and too severely. If times
are changed, as I have heard you allege--if the dignity of rank, and
the high feelings of honour and duty, are now drowned in giddy jests and
trifling pursuits, let _me_ at least, who live secluded from all others,
die without perceiving the change which has happened, and, above all,
without perceiving it in mine own son. Let me not learn the general
prevalence of this levity, which laughs at every sense of dignity or
duty, through your personal disrespect--Let me not think that when I
die----”
“Speak nothing of it, mother,” said the Earl, interrupting her
affectionately. “It is true, I cannot promise to be all my father and
his fathers were; for we wear silk vests for their steel coats, and
feathered beavers for their crested helmets. But believe me, though
to be an absolute Palmerin of England is not in my nature, no son ever
loved a mother more dearly, or would do more to oblige her. And that you
may own this, I will forthwith not only seal the warrants, to the great
endangerment of my precious fingers, but also read the same from end to
end, as well as the despatches thereunto appertaining.”
A mother is easily appeased, even when most offended; and it was with an
expanding heart that the Countess saw her son’s very handsome
features, while reading these papers, settle into an expression of deep
seriousness, such as they seldom wore. It seemed to her as if the family
likeness to his gallant but unfortunate father increased, when the
expression of their countenances became similar in gravity. The Earl
had no sooner perused the despatches, which he did with great attention,
than he rose and said, “Julian, come with me.”
The Countess looked surprised. “I was wont to share your father’s
counsels, my son,” she said; “but do not think that I wish to intrude
myself upon yours. I am too well pleased to see you assume the power and
the duty of thinking for yourself, which is what I have so long
urged you to do. Nevertheless, my experience, who have been so
long administrator of your authority in Man, might not, I think, be
superfluous to the matter in hand.”
“Hold me excused, dearest mother,” said the Earl gravely. “The
interference was none of my seeking; had you taken your own course,
without consulting me, it had been well; but since I have entered on the
affair--and it appears sufficiently important--I must transact it to the
best of my own ability.”
“Go, then, my son,” said the Countess, “and may Heaven enlighten thee
with its counsel, since thou wilt have none of mine.--I trust that you,
Master Peveril, will remind him of what is fit for his own honour;
and that only a coward abandons his rights, and only a fool trusts his
enemies.”
The Earl answered not, but, taking Peveril by the arm, led him up a
winding stair to his own apartment, and from thence into a projecting
turret, where, amidst the roar of waves and sea-mews’ clang, he held
with him the following conversation:--
“Peveril, it is well I looked into these warrants. My mother queens it
at such a rate as may cost me not only my crown, which I care little
for, but perhaps my head, which, though others may think little of, I
would feel it an inconvenience to be deprived of.”
“What on earth is the matter?” said Peveril, with considerable anxiety.
“It seems,” said the Earl of Derby, “that old England who takes a
frolicsome brain-fever once every two or three years, for the benefit of
her doctors, and the purification of the torpid lethargy brought on by
peace and prosperity, is now gone stark staring mad on the subject of a
real or supposed Popish plot. I read one programme on the subject, by
a fellow called Oates, and thought it the most absurd foolery I ever
perused. But that cunning fellow Shaftesbury, and some others amongst
the great ones, having taken it up, and are driving on at such a rate
as makes harness crack, and horses smoke for it. The King, who has sworn
never to kiss the pillow his father went to sleep on, temporises, and
gives way to the current; the Duke of York, suspected and hated on
account of his religion, is about to be driven to the continent; several
principal Catholic nobles are in the Tower already; and the nation,
like a bull at Tutbury-running, is persecuted with so many inflammatory
rumours and pestilent pamphlets, that she has cocked her tail, flung
up her heels, taken the bit betwixt her teeth and is as furiously
unmanageable as in the year 1642.”
“All this you must have known already,” said Peveril; “I wonder you told
me not of news so important.”
“It would have taken long to tell,” said the Earl; “moreover, I desired
to have you _solus_; thirdly, I was about to speak when my mother
entered; and, to conclude, it was no business of mine. But these
despatches of my politic mother’s private correspondent put a new face
on the whole matter; for it seems some of the informers--a trade which,
having become a thriving one, is now pursued by many--have dared to
glance at the Countess herself as an agent in this same plot--ay, and
have found those that are willing enough to believe their report.”
“On mine honour,” said Peveril, “you both take it with great coolness.
I think the Countess the more composed of the two; for, except her
movement hither, she exhibited no mark of alarm, and, moreover, seemed
no way more anxious to communicate the matter to your lordship than
decency rendered necessary.”
“My good mother,” said the Earl, “loves power, though it has cost her
dear. I wish I could truly say that my neglect of business is entirely
assumed in order to leave it in her hands, but that better motive
combines with natural indolence. But she seems to have feared I should
not think exactly like her in this emergency, and she was right in
supposing so.”
“How comes the emergency upon you?” said Julian; “and what form does the
danger assume?”
“Marry, thus it is,” said the Earl: “I need not bid you remember
the affair of Colonel Christian. That man, besides his widow, who is
possessed of large property--Dame Christian of Kirk Truagh, whom you
have often heard of, and perhaps seen--left a brother called Edward
Christian, whom you never saw at all. Now this brother--but I dare say
you know all about it.”
“Not I, on my honour,” said Peveril; “you know the Countess seldom or
never alludes to the subject.”
“Why,” replied the Earl, “I believe in her heart she is something
ashamed of that gallant act of royalty and supreme jurisdiction, the
consequences of which maimed my estate so cruelly.--Well, cousin,
this same Edward Christian was one of the dempsters at the time, and,
naturally enough, was unwilling to concur in the sentence which adjudged
his _aîné_ to be shot like a dog. My mother, who was then in high force,
and not to be controlled by any one, would have served the dempster with
the same sauce with which she dressed his brother, had he not been wise
enough to fly from the island. Since that time, the thing has slept on
all hands; and though we knew that Dempster Christian made occasionally
secret visits to his friends in the island, along with two or three
other Puritans of the same stamp, and particularly a prick-eared rogue,
called Bridgenorth, brother-in-law to the deceased, yet my mother, thank
Heaven, has hitherto had the sense to connive at them, though, for some
reason or other, she holds this Bridgenorth in especial disfavour.”
“And why,” said Peveril, forcing himself to speak, in order to conceal
the very unpleasant surprise which he felt, “why does the Countess now
depart from so prudent a line of conduct?”
“You must know the case is now different. The rogues are not satisfied
with toleration--they would have supremacy. They have found friends in
the present heat of the popular mind. My mother’s name, and especially
that of her confessor, Aldrick the Jesuit, have been mentioned in this
beautiful maze of a plot, which if any such at all exists, she knows as
little of as you or I. However, she is a Catholic, and that is enough;
and I have little doubt, that if the fellows could seize on our scrap of
a kingdom here, and cut all our throats, they would have the thanks of
the present House of Commons, as willingly as old Christian had those of
the Rump, for a similar service.”
“From whence did you receive all this information?” said Peveril, again
speaking, though by the same effort which a man makes who talks in his
sleep.
“Aldrick has seen the Duke of York in secret, and his Royal Highness,
who wept while he confessed his want of power to protect his
friends--and it is no trifle will wring tears from him--told him to
send us information that we should look to our safety, for that Dempster
Christian and Bridgenorth were in the island, with secret and severe
orders; that they had formed a considerable party there, and were likely
to be owned and protected in anything they might undertake against us.
The people of Ramsey and Castletown are unluckily discontented about
some new regulation of the imposts; and to tell you the truth, though
I thought yesterday’s sudden remove a whim of my mother’s, I am almost
satisfied they would have blockaded us in Rushin Castle, where we could
not have held out for lack of provisions. Here we are better supplied,
and, as we are on our guard, it is likely the intended rising will not
take place.”
“And what is to be done in this emergency?” said Peveril.
“That is the very question, my gentle coz,” answered the Earl.
“My mother sees but one way of going to work, and that is by royal
authority. Here are the warrants she had prepared, to search for, take,
and apprehend the bodies of Edward Christian and Robert--no, Ralph
Bridgenorth, and bring them to instant trial. No doubt, she would soon
have had them in the Castle court, with a dozen of the old matchlocks
levelled against them--that is her way of solving all sudden
difficulties.”
“But in which, I trust, you do not acquiesce, my lord,” answered
Peveril, whose thoughts instantly reverted to Alice, if they could ever
be said to be absent from her.
“Truly I acquiesce in no such matter,” said the Earl. “William
Christian’s death cost me a fair half of my inheritance. I have no fancy
to fall under the displeasure of my royal brother, King Charles, for a
new escapade of the same kind. But how to pacify my mother, I know not.
I wish the insurrection would take place, and then, as we are better
provided than they can be, we might knock the knaves on the head; and
yet, since they began the fray, we should keep the law on our side.”
“Were it not better,” said Peveril, “if by any means these men could be
induced to quit the island?”
“Surely,” replied the Earl; “but that will be no easy matter--they
are stubborn on principle, and empty threats will not move them. This
stormblast in London is wind in their sails, and they will run their
length, you may depend on it. I have sent orders, however, to clap up
the Manxmen upon whose assistance they depended, and if I can find the
two worthies themselves, here are sloops enough in the harbour--I will
take the freedom to send them on a pretty distant voyage, and I hope
matters will be settled before they return to give an account of it.”
At this moment a soldier belonging to the garrison approached the two
young men, with many bows and tokens of respect. “How now, friend?” said
the Earl to him. “Leave off thy courtesies, and tell thy business.”
The man, who was a native islander, answered in Manx, that he had a
letter for his honour, Master Julian Peveril. Julian snatched the billet
hastily, and asked whence it came.
“It was delivered to him by a young woman,” the soldier replied, “who
had given him a piece of money to deliver it into Master Peveril’s own
hand.”
“Thou art a lucky fellow, Julian,” said the Earl. “With that grave brow
of thine, and thy character for sobriety and early wisdom, you set the
girls a-wooing, without waiting till they are asked; whilst I, their
drudge and vassal, waste both language and leisure, without getting a
kind word or look, far less a billet-doux.”
This the young Earl said with a smile of conscious triumph, as in fact
he valued himself not a little upon the interest which he supposed
himself to possess with the fair sex.
Meanwhile the letter impressed on Peveril a different train of thoughts
from what his companion apprehended. It was in Alice’s hand, and
contained these few words:--
“I fear what I am going to do is wrong; but I must see you. Meet me
at noon at Goddard Crovan’s Stone, with as much secrecy as you
may.”
The letter was signed only with the initials A. B.; but Julian had no
difficulty in recognising the handwriting, which he had often seen,
and which was remarkably beautiful. He stood suspended, for he saw the
difficulty and impropriety of withdrawing himself from the Countess and
his friend at this moment of impending danger; and yet, to neglect this
invitation was not to be thought of. He paused in the utmost perplexity.
“Shall I read your riddle?” said the Earl. “Go where love calls you--I
will make an excuse to my mother--only, most grave anchorite, be
hereafter more indulgent to the failings of others than you have been
hitherto, and blaspheme not the power of the little deity.”
“Nay, but, Cousin Derby--” said Peveril, and stopped short, for he
really knew not what to say. Secured himself by a virtuous passion from
the contagious influence of the time, he had seen with regret his noble
kinsman mingle more in its irregularities than he approved of, and had
sometimes played the part of a monitor. Circumstances seemed at present
to give the Earl a right of retaliation. He kept his eye fixed on his
friend, as if he waited till he should complete his sentence, and at
length exclaimed, “What! cousin, quite _à-la-mort!_ Oh, most judicious
Julian! Oh, most precise Peveril! have you bestowed so much wisdom on me
that you have none left for yourself? Come, be frank--tell me name and
place--or say but the colour of the eyes of the most emphatic she--or
do but let me have the pleasure to hear thee say, ‘I love!’--confess one
touch of human frailty--conjugate the verb _amo_, and I will be a gentle
schoolmaster, and you shall have, as father Richards used to say, when
we were under his ferule, ‘_licentia exeundi_.’”
“Enjoy your pleasant humour at my expense, my lord,” said Peveril; “I
fairly will confess thus much, that I would fain, if it consisted with
my honour and your safety, have two hours at my own disposal; the more
especially as the manner in which I shall employ them may much concern
the safety of the island.”
“Very likely, I dare say,” answered the Earl, still laughing. “No doubt
you are summoned out by some Lady Politic Wouldbe of the isle, to talk
over some of the breast-laws: but never mind--go, and go speedily, that
you may return as quickly as possible. I expect no immediate explosion
of this grand conspiracy. When the rogues see us on our guard, they will
be cautious how they break out. Only, once more make haste.”
Peveril thought this last advice was not to be neglected; and, glad to
extricate himself from the raillery of his cousin, walked down towards
the gate of the Castle, meaning to cross over to the village, and there
take horse at the Earl’s stables, for the place of rendezvous.