Peveril of the Peak

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XXIX

  ----Mark you this, Bassanio-- The devil can quote Scripture for his purpose. --MERCHANT OF VENICE.

  After leaving the proud mansion of the Duke of Buckingham, Christian,full of the deep and treacherous schemes which he meditated, hastenedto the city, where, in a decent inn, kept by a person of his ownpersuasion, he had been unexpectedly summoned to meet with RalphBridgenorth of Moultrassie. He was not disappointed--the Major hadarrived that morning, and anxiously expected him. The usual gloom of hiscountenance was darkened into a yet deeper shade of anxiety, whichwas scarcely relieved, even while, in answer to his inquiry after hisdaughter, Christian gave the most favourable account of her health andspirits, naturally and unaffectedly intermingled with such praises ofher beauty and her disposition, as were likely to be most grateful to afather's ear.

  But Christian had too much cunning to expatiate on this theme,however soothing. He stopped short exactly at the point where, as anaffectionate relative, he might be supposed to have said enough. "Thelady," he said, "with whom he had placed Alice, was delighted with heraspect and manners, and undertook to be responsible for her health andhappiness. He had not, he said, deserved so little confidence at thehand of his brother, Bridgenorth, as that the Major should, contraryto his purpose, and to the plan which they had adjusted together, havehurried up from the country, as if his own presence were necessary forAlice's protection."

  "Brother Christian," said Bridgenorth in reply, "I must see my child--Imust see this person with whom she is entrusted."

  "To what purpose?" answered Christian. "Have you not often confessedthat the over excess of the carnal affection which you have entertainedfor your daughter, hath been a snare to you?--Have you not, more thanonce, been on the point of resigning those great designs which shouldplace righteousness as a counsellor beside the throne, because youdesired to gratify your daughter's girlish passion for this descendantof your old persecutor--this Julian Peveril?"

  "I own it," said Bridgenorth; "and worlds would I have given, and wouldyet give, to clasp that youth to my bosom, and call him my son. Thespirit of his mother looks from his eye, and his stately step is as thatof his father, when he daily spoke comfort to me in my distress, andsaid, 'The child liveth.'"

  "But the youth walks," said Christian, "after his own lights, andmistakes the meteor of the marsh for the Polar star. Ralph Bridgenorth,I will speak to thee in friendly sincerity. Thou must not think toserve both the good cause and Baal. Obey, if thou wilt, thine own carnalaffections, summon this Julian Peveril to thy house, and let him wed thydaughter--But mark the reception she will meet with from the proud oldknight, whose spirit is now, even now, as little broken with his chains,as after the sword of the Saints had prevailed at Worcester. Thou wiltsee thy daughter spurned from his feet like an outcast."

  "Christian," said Bridgenorth, interrupting him, "thou dost urge mehard; but thou dost it in love, my brother, and I forgive thee--Aliceshall never be spurned.--But this friend of thine--this lady--thouart my child's uncle; and after me, thou art next to her in love andaffection--Still, thou art not her father--hast not her father'sfears. Art thou sure of the character of this woman to whom my child isentrusted?"

  "Am I sure of my own?--Am I sure that my name is Christian--yoursBridgenorth?--Is it a thing I am likely to be insecure in?--Have I notdwelt for many years in this city?--Do I not know this Court?--And am Ilikely to be imposed upon? For I will not think you can fear my imposingupon you."

  "Thou art my brother," said Bridgenorth--"the blood and bone of mydeparted Saint--and I am determined that I will trust thee in thismatter."

  "Thou dost well," said Christian; "and who knows what reward may be instore for thee?--I cannot look upon Alice, but it is strongly borne inon my mind, that there will be work for a creature so excellent beyondordinary women. Courageous Judith freed Bethulia by her valour, andthe comely features of Esther made her a safeguard and a defence to herpeople in the land of captivity, when she found favour in the sight ofKing Ahasuerus."

  "Be it with her as Heaven wills," said Bridgenorth; "and now tell mewhat progress there is in the great work."

  "The people are weary of the iniquity of this Court," said Christian;"and if this man will continue to reign, it must be by calling tohis councils men of another stamp. The alarm excited by the damnablepractices of the Papists has called up men's souls, and awakened theireyes to the dangers of their state.--He himself--for he will give upbrother and wife to save himself--is not averse to a change of measures;and though we cannot at first see the Court purged as with a winnowingfan, yet there will be enough of the good to control the bad--enough ofthe sober party to compel the grant of that universal toleration, forwhich we have sighed so long, as a maiden for her beloved. Time andopportunity will lead the way to more thorough reformation; and thatwill be done without stroke of sword, which our friends failed toestablish on a sure foundation, even when their victorious blades werein their hands."

  "May God grant it!" said Bridgenorth; "for I fear me I should scrupleto do aught which should once more unsheath the civil sword; but welcomeall that comes in a peaceful and parliamentary way."

  "Ay," said Christian, "and which will bring with it the bitter amends,which our enemies have so long merited at our hands. How long hath ourbrother's blood cried for vengeance from the altar!--Now shall thatcruel Frenchwoman find that neither lapse of years, nor her powerfulfriends, nor the name of Stanley, nor the Sovereignty of Man, shall stopthe stern course of the pursuer of blood. Her name shall be struck fromthe noble, and her heritage shall another take."

  "Nay, but, brother Christian," said Bridgenorth, "art thou not overeager in pursuing this thing?--It is thy duty as a Christian to forgivethine enemies."

  "Ay, but not the enemies of Heaven--not those who shed the blood ofthe saints," said Christian, his eyes kindling that vehement and fieryexpression which at times gave to his uninteresting countenance theonly character of passion which it ever exhibited. "No, Bridgenorth,"he continued, "I esteem this purpose of revenge holy--I account it apropitiatory sacrifice for what may have been evil in my life. I havesubmitted to be spurned by the haughty--I have humbled myself to be asa servant; but in my breast was the proud thought, I who do this--do itthat I may avenge my brother's blood."

  "Still, my brother," said Bridgenorth, "although I participate thypurpose, and have aided thee against this Moabitish woman, I cannot butthink thy revenge is more after the law of Moses than after the law oflove."

  "This comes well from thee, Ralph Bridgenorth," answered Christian;"from thee, who has just smiled over the downfall of thine own enemy."

  "If you mean Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Bridgenorth, "I smile not onhis ruin. It is well he is abased; but if it lies with me, I may humblehis pride, but will never ruin his house."

  "You know your purpose best," said Christian; "and I do justice, brotherBridgenorth, to the purity of your principles; but men who see withbut worldly eyes, would discern little purpose of mercy in the strictmagistrate and severe creditor--and such have you been to Peveril."

  "And, brother Christian," said Bridgenorth, his colour rising as hespoke, "neither do I doubt your purpose, nor deny the surprising addresswith which you have procured such perfect information concerning thepurposes of yonder woman of Ammon. But it is free to me to think, thatin your intercourse with the Court, and with courtiers, you may, in yourcarnal and worldly policy, sink the value of those spiritual gifts, forwhich you were once so much celebrated among the brethren."

  "Do not apprehend it," said Christian, recovering his temper, whichhad been a little ruffled by the previous discussion. "Let us but worktogether as heretofore; and I trust each of us shall be found doingthe work of a faithful servant to that good old cause for which we haveheretofore drawn the sword."

  So saying, he took his hat, and bidding Bridgenorth farewell, declaredhis intention of returning in the evening.

  "Fare thee well!"
said Bridgenorth; "to that cause wilt thou find meever a true and devoted adherent. I will act by that counsel ofthine, and will not even ask thee--though it may grieve my heart as aparent--with whom, or where, thou hast entrusted my child. I will try tocut off, and cast from me, even my right hand, and my right eye; but forthee, Christian, if thou dost deal otherwise than prudently and honestlyin this matter, it is what God and man will require at thy hand."

  "Fear not me," said Christian hastily, and left the place, agitated byreflections of no pleasant kind.

  "I ought to have persuaded him to return," he said, as he stepped outinto the street. "Even his hovering in this neighbourhood may spoil theplan on which depends the rise of my fortunes--ay, and of his child's.Will men say I have ruined her, when I shall have raised her to thedazzling height of the Duchess of Portsmouth, and perhaps made hera mother to a long line of princes? Chiffinch hath vouched foropportunity; and the voluptuary's fortune depends upon his gratifyingthe taste of his master for variety. If she makes an impression, it mustbe a deep one; and once seated in his affections, I fear not her beingsupplanted.--What will her father say? Will he, like a prudent man, puthis shame in his pocket, because it is well gilded? or will he think itfitting to make a display of moral wrath and parental frenzy? I fear thelatter--He has ever kept too strict a course to admit his conniving atsuch licence. But what will his anger avail?--I need not be seen in thematter--those who are will care little for the resentment of a countryPuritan. And after all, what I am labouring to bring about is best forhimself, the wench, and above all, for me, Edward Christian."

  With such base opiates did this unhappy wretch stifle his ownconscience, while anticipating the disgrace of his friend's family, andthe ruin of a near relative, committed in confidence to his charge. Thecharacter of this man was of no common description; nor was it by anordinary road that he had arrived at the present climax of unfeeling andinfamous selfishness.

  Edward Christian, as the reader is aware, was the brother of thatWilliam Christian, who was the principal instrument in delivering up theIsle of Man to the Republic, and who became the victim of the Countessof Derby's revenge on that account. Both had been educated as Puritans,but William was a soldier, which somewhat modified the strictness ofhis religious opinions; Edward, a civilian, seemed to entertain theseprinciples in the utmost rigour. But it was only seeming. The exactnessof deportment, which procured him great honour and influence amongthe _sober party_, as they were wont to term themselves, covered avoluptuous disposition, the gratification of which was sweet to him asstolen waters, and pleasant as bread eaten in secret. While, therefore,his seeming godliness brought him worldly gain, his secret pleasurescompensated for his outward austerity; until the Restoration, and theCountess's violent proceedings against his brother interrupted thecourse of both. He then fled from his native island, burning with thedesire of revenging his brother's death--the only passion foreign tohis own gratification which he was ever known to cherish, and which wasalso, at least, partly selfish, since it concerned the restoration ofhis own fortunes.

  He found easy access to Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, who, in right ofhis Duchess, claimed such of the Derby estate as had been bestowedby the Parliament on his celebrated father-in-law, Lord Fairfax. Hisinfluence at the Court of Charles, where a jest was a better plea thana long claim of faithful service, was so successfully exerted, as tocontribute greatly to the depression of that loyal and ill-rewardedfamily. But Buckingham was incapable, even for his own interest, ofpursuing the steady course which Christian suggested to him; and hisvacillation probably saved the remnant of the large estates of the Earlof Derby.

  Meantime, Christian was too useful a follower to be dismissed. FromBuckingham, and others of that stamp, he did not affect to conceal thelaxity of his morals; but towards the numerous and powerful party towhich he belonged, he was able to disguise them by a seeming gravity ofexterior, which he never laid aside. Indeed, so wide and absolute wasthen the distinction betwixt the Court and the city, that a man mighthave for some time played two several parts, as in two differentspheres, without its being discovered in the one that he exhibitedhimself in a different light in the other. Besides, when a man of talentshows himself an able and useful partisan, his party will continue toprotect and accredit him, in spite of conduct the most contradictory totheir own principles. Some facts are, in such cases, denied--some areglossed over--and party zeal is permitted to cover at least as manydefects as ever doth charity.

  Edward Christian had often need of the partial indulgence of hisfriends; but he experienced it, for he was eminently useful. Buckingham,and other courtiers of the same class, however dissolute in theirlives, were desirous of keeping some connection with the Dissentingor Puritanic party, as it was termed; thereby to strengthen themselvesagainst their opponents at Court. In such intrigues, Christian was anotable agent; and at one time had nearly procured an absolute unionbetween a class which professed the most rigid principles of religionand morality, and the latitudinarian courtiers, who set all principle atdefiance.

  Amidst the vicissitudes of a life of intrigue, during which Buckingham'sambitious schemes, and his own, repeatedly sent him across the Atlantic,it was Edward Christian's boast that he never lost sight of hisprincipal object,--revenge on the Countess of Derby. He maintained aclose and intimate correspondence with his native island, so as to beperfectly informed of whatever took place there; and he stimulated,on every favourable opportunity, the cupidity of Buckingham to possesshimself of this petty kingdom, by procuring the forfeiture of itspresent Lord. It was not difficult to keep his patron's wild wishesalive on this topic, for his own mercurial imagination attachedparticular charms to the idea of becoming a sort of sovereign evenin this little island; and he was, like Catiline, as covetous of theproperty of others, as he was profuse of his own.

  But it was not until the pretended discovery of the Papist Plot that theschemes of Christian could be brought to ripen; and then, so odious werethe Catholics in the eyes of the credulous people of England, that, uponthe accusation of the most infamous of mankind, common informers,the scourings of jails, and the refuse of the whipping-post, the mostatrocious charges against persons of the highest rank and fairestcharacter were readily received and credited.

  This was a period which Christian did not fail to improve. He drew closehis intimacy with Bridgenorth, which had indeed never been interrupted,and readily engaged him in his schemes, which, in the eyes of hisbrother-in-law, were alike honourable and patriotic. But, while heflattered Bridgenorth with the achieving a complete reformation in thestate--checking the profligacy of the Court--relieving the consciencesof the Dissenters from the pressures of the penal laws--amending, infine, the crying grievances of the time--while he showed him also,in prospect, revenge upon the Countess of Derby, and a humblingdispensation on the house of Peveril, from whom Bridgenorth had sufferedsuch indignity, Christian did not neglect, in the meanwhile, to considerhow he could best benefit himself by the confidence reposed in him byhis unsuspicious relation.

  The extreme beauty of Alice Bridgenorth--the great wealth which timeand economy had accumulated on her father--pointed her out as a mostdesirable match to repair the wasted fortunes of some of the followersof the Court; and he flattered himself that he could conduct such anegotiation so as to be in a high degree conducive to his own advantage.He found there would be little difficulty in prevailing on MajorBridgenorth to entrust him with the guardianship of his daughter. Thatunfortunate gentleman had accustomed himself, from the very period ofher birth, to regard the presence of his child as a worldly indulgencetoo great to be allowed to him; and Christian had little trouble inconvincing him that the strong inclination which he felt to bestowher on Julian Peveril, provided he could be brought over to his ownpolitical opinions, was a blameable compromise with his more severeprinciples. Late circumstances had taught him the incapacity andunfitness of Dame Debbitch for the sole charge of so dear a pledge; andhe readily and thankfully embraced the kind offer of her maternal
uncle,Christian, to place Alice under the protection of a lady of rank inLondon, whilst he himself was to be engaged in the scenes of bustleand blood, which, in common with all good Protestants, he expectedwas speedily to take place on a general rising of the Papists, unlessprevented by the active and energetic measures of the good peopleof England. He even confessed his fears, that his partial regard forAlice's happiness might enervate his efforts in behalf of his country;and Christian had little trouble in eliciting from him a promise, thathe would forbear to inquire after her for some time.

  Thus certain of being the temporary guardian of his niece for a spacelong enough, he flattered himself, for the execution of his purpose,Christian endeavoured to pave the way by consulting Chiffinch, whoseknown skill in Court policy qualified him best as an adviser on thisoccasion. But this worthy person, being, in fact, a purveyor for hisMajesty's pleasures, and on that account high in his good graces,thought it fell within the line of his duty to suggest another schemethan that on which Christian consulted him. A woman of such exquisitebeauty as Alice was described, he deemed more worthy to be a partaker ofthe affections of the merry Monarch, whose taste in female beauty wasso exquisite, than to be made the wife of some worn-out prodigal ofquality. And then, doing perfect justice to his own character, he feltit would not be one whit impaired, while his fortune would be, in everyrespect, greatly amended, if, after sharing the short reign of theGwyns, the Davises, the Robertses, and so forth, Alice Bridgenorthshould retire from the state of a royal favourite, into the humblecondition of Mrs. Chiffinch.

  After cautiously sounding Christian, and finding that the near prospectof interest to himself effectually prevented his starting at thisiniquitous scheme, Chiffinch detailed it to him fully, carefully keepingthe final termination out of sight, and talking of the favour to beacquired by the fair Alice as no passing caprice, but the commencementof a reign as long and absolute as that of the Duchess of Portsmouth,of whose avarice and domineering temper Charles was now understood tobe much tired, though the force of habit rendered him unequal to freehimself of her yoke.

  Thus chalked out, the scene prepared was no longer the intrigue of aCourt pander, and a villainous resolution for the ruin of an innocentgirl, but became a state intrigue, for the removal of an obnoxiousfavourite, and the subsequent change of the King's sentiments uponvarious material points, in which he was at present influenced by theDuchess of Portsmouth. In this light it was exhibited to the Duke ofBuckingham, who, either to sustain his character for daring gallantry,or in order to gratify some capricious fancy, had at one time made loveto the reigning favourite, and experienced a repulse which he had neverforgiven.

  But one scheme was too little to occupy the active and enterprisingspirit of the Duke. An appendix of the Popish Plot was easily socontrived as to involve the Countess of Derby, who, from character andreligion, was precisely the person whom the credulous part of the publicwere inclined to suppose the likely accomplice of such a conspiracy.Christian and Bridgenorth undertook the perilous commission of attackingher even in her own little kingdom of Man, and had commissions for thispurpose, which were only to be produced in case of their scheme takingeffect.

  It miscarried, as the reader is aware, from the Countess's alertpreparations for defence; and neither Christian nor Bridgenorth heldit sound policy to practise openly, even under parliamentary authority,against a lady so little liable to hesitate upon the measures mostlikely to secure her feudal sovereignty; wisely considering thateven the omnipotence, as it has been somewhat too largely styled, ofParliament, might fail to relieve them from the personal consequences ofa failure.

  On the continent of Britain, however, no opposition was to be feared;and so well was Christian acquainted with all the motions in theinterior of the Countess's little court, or household, that Peverilwould have been arrested the instant he set foot on shore, but for thegale of wind which obliged the vessel, in which he was a passenger,to run for Liverpool. Here Christian, under the name of Ganlesse,unexpectedly met with him, and preserved him from the fangs of thewell-breathed witnesses of the Plot, with the purpose of securing hisdespatches, or, if necessary, his person also, in such a manner as toplace him at his own discretion--a narrow and perilous game, whichhe thought it better, however, to undertake, than to permit thesesubordinate agents, who were always ready to mutiny against all inleague with them, to obtain the credit which they must have done bythe seizure of the Countess of Derby's despatches. It was, besides,essential to Buckingham's schemes that these should not pass into thehands of a public officer like Topham, who, however pompous and stupid,was upright and well-intentioned, until they had undergone the revisalof a private committee, where something might have probably beensuppressed, even supposing that nothing had been added. In short,Christian, in carrying on his own separate and peculiar intrigue, by theagency of the Great Popish Plot, as it was called, acted just like anengineer, who derives the principle of motion which turns his machinery,by means of a steam-engine, or large water-wheel, constructed to drivea separate and larger engine. Accordingly, he was determined that, whilehe took all the advantage he could from their supposed discoveries,no one should be admitted to tamper or interfere with his own plans ofprofit and revenge.

  Chiffinch, who, desirous of satisfying himself with his own eyes of thatexcellent beauty which had been so highly extolled, had gone down toDerbyshire on purpose, was infinitely delighted, when, during the courseof a two hours' sermon at the dissenting chapel in Liverpool, whichafforded him ample leisure for a deliberate survey, he arrived at theconclusion that he had never seen a form or face more captivating. Hiseyes having confirmed what was told him, he hurried back to the littleinn which formed their place of rendezvous, and there awaited Christianand his niece, with a degree of confidence in the success of theirproject which he had not before entertained; and with an apparatus ofluxury, calculated, as he thought, to make a favourable impression onthe mind of a rustic girl. He was somewhat surprised, when, insteadof Alice Bridgenorth, to whom he expected that night to have beenintroduced, he found that Christian was accompanied by Julian Peveril.It was indeed a severe disappointment, for he had prevailed on his ownindolence to venture this far from the Court, in order that he mightjudge, with his own paramount taste, whether Alice was really theprodigy which her uncle's praises had bespoken her, and, as such, avictim worthy of the fate to which she was destined.

  A few words betwixt the worthy confederates determined them on the planof stripping Peveril of the Countess's despatches; Chiffinch absolutelyrefusing to take any share in arresting him, as a matter of which hisMaster's approbation might be very uncertain.

  Christian had also his own reasons for abstaining from so decisive astep. It was by no means likely to be agreeable to Bridgenorth, whomit was necessary to keep in good humour;--it was not necessary, for theCountess's despatches were of far more importance than the person ofJulian. Lastly, it was superfluous in this respect also, that Julianwas on the road to his father's castle, where it was likely he would beseized, as a matter of course, along with the other suspicious personswho fell under Topham's warrant, and the denunciations of his infamouscompanions. He, therefore, far from using any violence to Peveril,assumed towards him such a friendly tone, as might seem to warn himagainst receiving damage from others, and vindicate himself from havingany share in depriving him of his charge. This last manoeuvre wasachieved by an infusion of a strong narcotic into Julian's wine; underthe influence of which he slumbered so soundly, that the confederateswere easily able to accomplish their inhospitable purpose.

  The events of the succeeding days are already known to the reader.Chiffinch set forward to return to London, with the packet, which itwas desirable should be in Buckingham's hands as soon as possible; whileChristian went to Moultrassie, to receive Alice from her father, andconvey her safely to London--his accomplice agreeing to defer hiscuriosity to see more of her until they should have arrived in thatcity.

  Before parting with Bridgenorth, Christian had exerted h
is utmostaddress to prevail on him to remain at Moultrassie; he had evenoverstepped the bounds of prudence, and, by his urgency, awakened somesuspicions of an indefinite nature, which he found it difficult toallay. Bridgenorth, therefore, followed his brother-in-law to London;and the reader has already been made acquainted with the arts whichChristian used to prevent his farther interference with the destiniesof his daughter, or the unhallowed schemes of her ill-chosen guardian.Still Christian, as he strode along the street in profound reflection,saw that his undertaking was attended with a thousand perils; and thedrops stood like beads on his brow when he thought of the presumptuouslevity and fickle temper of Buckingham--the frivolity and intemperanceof Chiffinch--the suspicions of the melancholy and bigoted, yetsagacious and honest Bridgenorth. "Had I," he thought, "but toolsfitted, each to their portion of the work, how easily could I heaveasunder and disjoint the strength that opposes me! But with these frailand insufficient implements, I am in daily, hourly, momentary danger,that one lever or other gives way, and that the whole ruin recoils onmy own head. And yet, were it not for those failings I complain of, howwere it possible for me to have acquired that power over them all whichconstitutes them my passive tools, even when they seem most to exerttheir own free will? Yes, the bigots have some right when they affirmthat all is for the best."

  It may seem strange, that, amidst the various subjects of Christian'sapprehension, he was never visited by any long or permanent doubt thatthe virtue of his niece might prove the shoal on which his voyage shouldbe wrecked. But he was an arrant rogue, as well as a hardened libertine;and, in both characters, a professed disbeliever in the virtue of thefair sex.