Wherefore Mr. Blewer looked eagerly at me, and asked in a yet lower whisper, and with an air of confidence and good-will,—
"Then thou thinkest, good Dicon, that her heart is already inclining towards me?"
"I think it will incline more and more if you, good sir, will hold aloof for a while, and let her feel her loneliness. My lord the Viscount, for whom she had a maid's fancy, is in prison, and like to die, as all men say, if not of his wounds, yet by the hand of the executioner; and all those whom she most loves are in prison or in peril. Doubtless she will soon feel the need of some strong man's arm to lean upon. Only try her not too soon. Let her first feel her guardian's displeasure. Let him first set before her the peril in which she stands for her handiwork, and meddling in the matter of those banners and colours. Afterwards she may incline the more to one who seeks her in her hour of trouble and desertion. But seem to come to her then as a deliverer. Trouble her not now, whilst her heart is still proud, and she is still buoyed up with false hopes. Let her hear a little more of the work of the Judge, which has but now commenced. Methinks that will bring her to her senses."
"Boy, thou dost talk like a philosopher and a student of women. Whence dost thou get such wisdom at thy years?"
"Nay, good sir, it is not wisdom; it is but knowing something of the whimsies of maids from having sisters at home who are as contrary as the winds of heaven. And now, an it please you, sir, I must join my lady; but if you will wait for another day, I think your suit will be the better forwarded."
Mr. Blewer looked first at me and then at the figure in front as though in deliberation; but at last, to my infinite relief, he reined in his horse and said,—
"So be it, Dicon; thou mayest be right. And I will make my lady answer for this pride and haughtiness in days to come."
So then he turned and rode back whence he had come, whilst I joined my lord; and we soon left Taunton behind, and knew that for the present our perils were over.
Three miles away, at a little obscure farm-house, I had a horse ready for my lord. All that had been settled days ago, none knowing what sudden change might cause us to make our attempt without much warning. I intended, however, to take Lady Jane the whole way, and to let my lord ride woman fashion into Ilminster in the dusk, cloaked and hooded as before; for there were soldiers on the watch in every town, and we should be far less like to draw notice upon ourselves thus than if my lord rode openly into the city, where his face might like enough be known.
So we had a very gentle and easy day, stopping long at the lonely farm to rest; and I wondered at his silence and sadness, since our journey had so far been crowned with success. But he smiled when I asked him, and made answer,—
"My sadness is not for myself, good lad; thanks to thy courage and quickness and my Mary's devotion, all has gone well with me. But I cannot forget those poor, simple fellow-prisoners of mine, who went with me from the Castle but yesterday, and who may so soon be called upon to die a terrible death. They have been so much less guilty than I. They followed like sheep where they were led. In their simple souls was no thought but of victory and an easy triumph for a rightful King. And they must die like sheep; whilst I, who knew better the two sides of the picture, and who rebelled against the reigning sovereign with open eyes—I am to escape all consequences, whilst others suffer the full penalty of the law. I cannot but be sad. I could weep tears of blood. Were it not for my Mary's sake, methinks I would even now give myself up, and die with the rest."
I loved him for his gentle words, but I sought to comfort him too.
"It would not help them for you to die, my lord."
"No, else would I die for them," he said.
The day passed in short journeys and frequent halts, chiefly at places where I knew the people and was sure of a welcome. The last halt we made was but three miles from Ilminster; and there we abode till the dusk fell and we could ride into the town under cover of the evening shadows, yet not so late as to attract notice or remark.
My lord donned the grey habit once again, and leaving his own horse at the farm till I should fetch it thence, took Lady Jane and the side saddle, and so rode through the gathering twilight into Ilminster. There I was hailed by one or two friends, all anxious for news of relatives and friends in Taunton. I showed no haste nor anxiety in holding parley with them; and when one asked me who was my companion, I answered at once that it was a maid on her way to her friends at Lyme, and that I had promised her a bed at my aunt's house, whither her friends would fetch her on the morrow.
And thus talking and explaining we rode through the streets, till we alighted at my aunt's door.
Right gladly did she receive me, and right kindly did she greet my companion, whom she took at the first to be a maid, until I whispered a word in her ear, and got a squeeze of the hand in reply. But so long as her servants were about the place, she made as though my lord were in truth a maid, and only when we were alone together in the guest-chamber did she permit herself to welcome him as his own self.
The secret chamber was ready, and with some pride and pleasure she took us up, and showed us all the arrangements made for the comfort of the fugitive.
"If it be but changing one prison for another, my lord," she said as he would have thanked her, only that she put his words aside, "I will answer for it that you shall lack nothing here; and that so soon as this cruel and wicked Judge has gone, and peace settles down once more upon this unhappy land, its doors will open for you, and you will go forth to your friends, whilst I shall have known the honour and pleasure of saving the life of Lord Lonsdale's son."
"Madam," said my lord, "words are all too poor as a medium of thanks. But tell me, are you sure that no hurt can fall upon you for this good deed? If peril were to threaten you for this act of charity to me, I would sooner go forth into the street now, and give myself into the hands of the guard to do with me as they would."
"Hoots, my lord, talk not so wildly!" answered my aunt, giving him a motherly pat on the shoulder. "There is not a soul in this house that knows of this chamber here. Not a soul in the town wishes me ill, or would speak a word to trouble me. We will soon contrive, Dicon and I, that the household believes the maid who entered my doors leaves again on the morrow. Go to bed, laddie, go to bed—that is the only place you are fit for—and leave Dicon and me to settle all the rest. He shall bring you a supper before long that will be better than prison fare; and then to rest and get sound and strong is all you will have to think of this many a day."
I waited on my lord, and soon saw him betwixt the fine woven sheets of my good aunt's spinning, on a bed so soft that he said it was enough to send him to sleep of itself. Indeed after he had partaken of the good cheer prepared for him, he quickly sank to sleep, feeling that at least no prison walls enclosed him, and that if he were not yet a free man, he was on the way to freedom. The terrible days that were threatening Taunton would not touch him.
My aunt and I sat far up in the night talking in low tones of the fearful things that were everywhere happening. Every fresh person one saw in those days had some new story of horror to unfold. Ilminster had its tale of citizens languishing in different jails till the Judge should pass sentence upon them; and every house had its cause of fear, or at best was saddened by the shadow which had fallen upon others.
With the first light of day I was up, and had brought round Lady Jane, saddled for the maid; and out to me came my aunt, robed in the grey hood and habit—for her figure being tall and spare, none who saw her would know any difference; and the neighbours beginning to open their windows nodded to me and wished me a good journey, whilst they spoke kindly to my companion, whom they took to be a girl in a humble walk in life, and who gave them a low-toned answer of thanks.
Then we started, I leading the horse by the bridle; and only when clear of the town did my aunt dismount from her unaccustomed perch, take from the bundle she carried her own head-gear and cloak, and, leaving me to dispose of Lady Jane as I would, made her way back by another route to the town, and was seen in the market as usual making her daily purchases.
As for me, I took Lady Jane to the farm where Lord Vere's horse was stabled, and then made my way back to Ilminster. I remained one more night with my aunt, saw that my lord had all he needed for comfort, and was well pleased with his surroundings; and then taking Blackbird on the following morning I rode him back to Taunton, leaving the other horses with the farmer till I could reclaim them with safety.
I got back to Taunton to give the other twenty guineas to the kindly jailer, and to be in time for the terrible pageant which was to take place now within its environs.
THE TERRIBLE JUDGE.
"Dicon, my father says he has heard that that terrible man will have up Miss Blake and the Taunton maids who made and presented the colours. Heaven alone knows what fearful thing will happen to them then! Dicon, let me have speech with Mary! She must be got away; she must be hidden till the storm be overpast! I have an hour to spare, whilst my father has business with Sir William. Dicon, dost thou know that Lord Jeffreys abides with him in his house here in the town? But he has sent all his women folk to Orchard Portman. He will not let them meet yon wicked and terrible man. Methinks a King who can use such instruments is little fit for his place! Dicon," lowering her voice to a whisper, her eyes flashing with a noble indignation as she spoke, "dost thou know what is said?—that if only this monster in human shape slays enough men here in the West to satisfy that bloody tyrant his master, he is to be rewarded with the great seal of the Chancellor! Truly the people had right on their side when they rebelled against such a tyrant; only they needed one to lead them whose title was above reproach, and who came not under false pretences. Surely the day will come when such a champion will arise, and England will free herself from the hateful yoke of an unjust, an illegal, and a cruel tyranny."
The speaker was Mistress Mary Bridges, and since her heroic act, of which I have already spoken, she had become an idol of the people of Taunton and a companion to her father such as she had never been before. She had ridden in with him that day, and now was all eagerness to see Mistress Mary Mead; but when she returned to the inn-yard after her visit was paid, it was with a grave face and anxious mien.
"Dicon, I have argued and entreated in vain. She will not fly! She will not leave Miss Blake to meet the storm alone. Her pupils are nearly all of them fled. Some few remain in Taunton, but many are conveyed away I know not whither. Mary says that she had as much to do with those banners as Miss Blake, and she will not flee and leave her. She says were all to be done again she would do as she has done. She has no fear. She is not afraid even of the wicked Jeffreys. She will stay and confront him, and will not let herself be hidden. But, O Dicon, though I love her the more for her courage, I fear that ill will come of it!"
"What can they do to her?" I asked with a shudder. "They will not kill her?"
"Oh no, no!" answered Mary. "I asked my father just now, and he said that the penalty for such an offence was not like to be more than a heavy fine. Even that monster would not dare to condemn a maid to worse than that. But it is the being brought before him, being subjected to his brutal words and looks, his hideous jibes and his inhuman threats. O Dicon, the stories of yon man in other places make my blood run cold! To think of Mary exposed to his baleful glance. But she knows no fear; she will not let Miss Blake bear it alone."
"It is like her!" I answered, with warm admiration. "And, Mistress Mary, I will watch over her all I can; and if there be need later, will take her to the cottage in the marsh, where she will be safe."
"Ay, she will be safe there; and truly after these rains it is few who could find the way thither. Dicon, let not Lord Lonsdale take her to his house. They say he will not return till after the trials. He is in a great fear for his son, but has been told that the Viscount is not numbered amongst the prisoners. There has been some error or mistake. He was taken, as many aver; but he has either died of his wounds or else has escaped in the confusion—no man clearly knows which. Lord Lonsdale went to Court to seek to win his pardon from the King should he be brought up for trial and condemned; and he remains there till the Judge has gone, having a special messenger here to bring him instant word if his son should be arraigned. But he himself stays where he is till all peril is past. Then he will come back, and if I mistake me not, his first act will be to wed Mistress Mary Mead to some man of known loyalty, both as a protection to herself and as a means of keeping her away from his son, should the Viscount ever return. Dicon, guard her from that an thou canst. I trow that my lord will return one day to claim her, and she must be free to wed him."
I promised young Mistress Mary to use all heed and diligence; and then I watched her ride away with her father, who came to find her, and thought that two such noble Marys did not live in all the world as the two who honoured me with their confidence.
But all Taunton was in a tremble, and within the town there was that state of things best described by the words of the prophet—"lamentation, and mourning, and woe."
The great Assize Hall in the Castle was being prepared for the coming tribunal, and I must needs go to see. It is a very fine hall, as all men of Taunton know, a hundred and twenty feet long and thirty wide; and when Taunton was under the Bishop of Winchester's ecclesiastical jurisdiction, his court used also to be held here. So that still over the porch were the two keys and the sword, the arms of the Bishop of Winchester, together with the three bugle horns which were the private coat of Bishop Horn, who no doubt was a great personage when the place was built or repaired. Four cherubs occupy the corners, and within the surrounding garter are the two mottoes, "Honi soit qui mal y pense," and "Crux et Vanitas."
Over the two strong arches of the inner gateway stood the grand-jury room, soon to be occupied by the trembling jury, who, badgered by the wicked Judge, feared to return any verdict save that of Guilty, however insufficient the evidence against the unhappy prisoner. We had heard already how the monster had raved and foamed with fury at any other verdict, and had driven the unhappy men away again and again, until he had terrified them into submission. To begin with, the juries were selected by the Sheriffs; and since the Sheriffs were all loyal King's men, they had chosen men all in favour of the King's policy. But even so, they could not altogether throw to the winds all sense of justice and right; and yet if they dared to give any verdict save that which the merciless Judge indicated, they went almost in terror of their own lives. To such a pass had things come under this Special Commission, instituted by James the Second and conducted according to his own heart by his chosen tools!
The great Assize Hall was being hung with crimson cloth in honour of the important occasion. Methought the colour something ominous of what was coming; but it was said that Lord Jeffreys always looked to be received with due honour. I had a great and lively curiosity to see this wicked man, and as I was known to one or more of the custodians of the place, I was promised entrance that afternoon, when his charge to the jury was to be given; though after that, when the trials themselves came on, I must take my chance with the rest of the people. The place would be thronged to suffocation, and if I wished for entrance I must seek it at the doors with the others.
I did very much wish to be present, but knew not whether I should achieve my desire. But at least I was there in a fairly good place that afternoon, when I knew that the great and wicked Judge had arrived, and that he was to address the jury at once, so that the business of the day could commence upon the morrow.
How my heart beat when at last he came, with his brothers of the bench in attendance, who seemed of no account beside that great burly figure with those extraordinary eyes, and that bloated face seamed and lined by passion and drink till it was more like the face of a devil than of a man. Although I had heard much of Judge Jeffreys, never had I pictured such a monster in human shape as I beheld that day, as the western light, level and clear, illumined the great hall and made plain all the persons assembled there. It was as if the devil himself looked out from those eyes; and in the loud rasping tones of the voice, full of fierce invective coupled with brutal taunts and threats, it was impossible to conceive that there spoke the voice of a monarch's servant. Oaths of the most blasphemous description fell from his lips, mingled with such ribald jests as made one's blood run cold. What was the nature of the charge I cannot tell, for I seemed to hear nothing but taunts and threats and profane jests all jumbled together in one hideous medley. No wonder the jurymen stood huddled together, as if only longing to be out of reach of those basilisk eyes. No wonder that amongst the crowd assembled to hear those who had relations or friends amongst the prisoners felt their hearts sink within them. That all the men declared the Judge to be drunk seemed small consolation. We had heard before this that it was his habit to be more or less drunk whilst performing his duties. Possibly in the morning he might be something more sober; but there were those who averred that he was even more to be dreaded sober than drunk. In either case he was a devil incarnate. About that there were no two opinions. And it was passed quickly through the town that the only chance a prisoner had was to plead guilty, and so save the court the trouble of trying him. Those who did this were condemned to death in a mass; but many were respited. It was said that the Judge had openly declared he would hang every man who dared to plead "not guilty," and that these would be at once hung up, whilst those who pleaded "guilty" would be respited for a time, and possibly escape the final penalty of the law. This was the Judge's artifice for shortening his bloody work, and it invariably put him in a tempest of passion when prisoners dared to plead "not guilty."
Do as I would, I could not get into court upon the first day of the trials; and I ran down to Master Simpson's house to see how things were going there, and if aught had been heard of Master Simpson himself. Here I found Miss Hannah Hewling mingling her tears with those of Lizzie and her aunt; for her brother Benjamin was awaiting his trial now at Taunton, and the gentle William, only nineteen years old and so full of sweetness and piety, had already been done to death at Lyme, in spite of all the favour brought to bear on his behalf.
Amid her tears Miss Hannah read to us a letter he had penned to her just before he suffered. "I am going to launch into eternity," he wrote, "and, I hope and trust, into the arms of my blessed Redeemer, to whom I commit you and all my dear relations." And as he was going to the place of execution, he repeated to one of his comrades some of the beautiful words contained in the fourteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel; and then he added, "Here is a sweet promise for us, 'I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.' Christ will be with us to the last." And to another who bid him farewell he said, "Farewell till we meet in heaven. Presently I shall be with Christ. Oh, I would not change conditions with any in this world! I would not stay behind for ten thousand worlds." And to a friend who came to comfort him at the end—not one of the condemned—the friend who had given all these particulars to Miss Hannah, he said, "Pray remember my dear love to my brother and sister, and tell them I desire they would comfort themselves that I am gone to Christ; and we shall quickly meet in the glorious Mount Zion above."
And so greatly were the officers who carried out the mandate of the Court touched by his piety and sweetness and gentleness that some wept, and others declared that had the Chief-Justice himself been there he could not have let him die. So though no mandate had been given to that effect, yet the body of the pious youth was given to the people of Lyme for Christian burial, and was laid in the grave by a number of young maidens of that place, who had heard the story of his faith and resignation, and took this Christian office upon themselves.
It could not but comfort the sister's heart to hear all this, though her tears fell fast as she told the tale. Her heart was sore troubled too for the brother yet living; but her parents in London had sent her large sums of money, and it was hoped that the Judge might be bribed into showing mercy, even though he had condemned the prisoner in court.
Upon the day when Master Benjamin Hewling was to be tried, I was resolved that I would be there, and would find room too for Miss Hannah and for Lizzie as well. Money would always do much, and of this there was no lack; and I went beforehand to the keepers of the doors, and got a promise that if I would come very early, and keep very quiet when admitted, they would see that we got smuggled in before the crowd came thronging and surging in. And this in fact was done; and though afterwards we were well-nigh suffocated by the press, still we were placed where we could see and hear. I was the more glad of this because I heard a whisper that this would be the last day, and that the case of the Maids of Taunton would come before the Judge at the close of the more bloody proceedings, and also that of Will Wiseman, the accusation against whom was only the reading of the Declarations of the Duke to the populace; his other daring acts seeming not to have become known to Mr. Blewer, who, we felt certain, was his accuser.
How my heart quaked when I saw the Judge's terrible countenance beneath its wig of office! The red robes were scarcely more red than the inflamed visage, and the eyes rolled from side to side with a sullen fury that was almost more terrible than the ferocity of their gleam when first I had seen them.
The scenes I saw that day will never be effaced from my memory. I would that I had the skill to tell the tale as it should be told, but I can but state a few bald facts. Let the reader fill up the outline as he will.
Let me speak of the trial of Mr. Simon Hamling—or Hamlyn, as men indifferently call him. He was a worthy citizen of Taunton, who had borne a good repute there for long; but had for the last three years of his life lived some three miles out of the town, and come to and fro on business. When he heard that the Duke had come, he went to the town to speak to his son, to advise him to have nothing to do with this matter of the rising; as he expressed it in his defence, "That as he expected his blessing and countenance, he should not at all concern himself in the matter, but submit himself to the will of God in all things;" and having so delivered himself he went home, and was never in the town again whilst the Duke was there, save that he came to buy some provision for his house, as was his custom, on the Saturday. But he was a dissenter, and the Mayor owed him a grudge. When nothing could be proved against him as having been concerned in the rebellion, the Judge fell into such a rage as I have never seen in my life before, so that all the court quaked and trembled, and he bawled out, "The rascal is a dissenter! I can smell 'em forty miles!" and forthwith foaming at the mouth he bid the jury find him guilty, which to their shame they did; and sentence of death was accordingly passed upon him. Hearing which the Mayor, being smitten with shame and remorse, strove to get the sentence reversed; but the Lord Jeffreys turned upon him with one of his awful oaths, and cried, "You have brought him on; if he be innocent, his blood be upon you!" and immediately called for the next prisoner, which was Mr. Benjamin Hewling.
In such a mood as the Judge was now in all saw that the poor young gentleman had no chance. Many stood forward to try to bear witness to his blameless character, but were yelled down by the Judge, who would hear nothing. The prisoner had been in arms in the rebellion, and should die the traitor's death. Then enraged by the dauntless and dignified bearing of the young man, his judge stormed and cursed and raged at him, and made the horrid words of the sentence tenfold more horrid by the way he flung it at him, till half the women in the place fell weeping, and Miss Hannah drooped her head and for a minute quite swooned away.
But the spirit of her brothers possessed her too, and she recovered herself, and was able to make her way out of the court holding Lizzie's hand. I must needs stay to see how Will Wiseman fared, and to hear what befell with regard to the Maids of Taunton, as they were beginning to be called by the world. Several cases came between, all of which were treated in the same brutal fashion by the Lord Jeffreys; and when one thought of the pious and blameless lives many of these men had lived, their godliness and honesty of purpose, and their piety and sweetness of disposition, it seemed a strange thing to see them arraigned before this drunken and blasphemous judge, and feel that he had the power, in despite of the clearest evidence, to doom them to a frightful and hideous death.
But my heart beat with a more personal interest when I saw the familiar face of Will Wiseman in the prisoner's place. He had grown thin and white during his captivity; for the prisons were crowded and unwholesome, and the prisoners were but poorly fed. I had done what I could for him; but I had not succeeded in seeing him, nor could I be sure that the things I took him from the Simpsons' house ever reached him aright.
Jeffreys glared at poor Will as though he would have done him to death on the very spot; but Will looked at him back without any sign of fear—though, unless he were double and treble as brave as I, he must surely have been in a sad affright. And then the witnesses suborned by wicked Mr. Blewer, who had by this time edged himself very near to the judges, and was looking on with cruel malice in his eyes, came forward and bore testimony to the fact that Will had read the different Declarations of the Duke to the people who wished to hear them; and thankful indeed was I that none came to tell how he had led the assault upon the arms in the church tower, for I was not sure that that would not have been a hanging matter. I thought they could not do much to poor Will for such a small thing as this; but Jeffreys was licking his cruel lips, and his face had that smile upon it which was almost worse than his scowl, and he cried out in his husky, rasping tones,—
"A young rogue, but a veritable villain! He must be taught to curb that mischievous tongue of his! Pity the good old plan of boring it through with a hot iron is out of fashion now! Never mind; we will find a cure nevertheless. What does the wise man say? 'Spare the rod and spoil the child.' Well, we will not do that. The rod shall not be spared. I give sentence that the prisoner, William Wiseman, be whipped through every market town in Somerset.—Executioner, warm him well. The weather is growing sharp. See that he take not cold in the open air. He will needs be shorn of his clothing. Warm his back for him! warm it well!" And doubling himself up in brutal laughter at his jest, the Judge signed for the prisoner to be removed.
My heart went out in pity and rage; but to myself I kept repeating, "My hoard of guineas—my golden hoard is still almost untouched. Sure it can win for poor Will an abatement of his punishment. The executioner at least will not be as brutal as the Judge."
When I came to myself, after having been wrapped in thought for I know not how long, I felt a curious thrill going through the court; and there I saw Miss Blake and Mary Mead standing side by side before the wicked Judge, who was regarding them with a face of curiosity and malevolent interest.
"And where be the other fair maidens?" he asked, looking at a paper before him.
The usher of the court replied that only Miss Blake had been summoned; that the pupils could be found when necessary, but that they were taken by their parents, and were scattered here and there, save Mistress Mary Mead, who had claimed to accompany Miss Blake.
The names of twenty or more maids were read out as having been concerned in the making and the presenting of the colours; and much ribald jesting was indulged in on the part of the Judge, who, however, seemed in not so evil a humour as heretofore. Whilst the proceedings were going on, I observed with uneasiness that Mr. Blewer edged himself up to Lord Jeffreys; and my uneasiness did not decrease when I saw them laughing together as if on very friendly terms, and keep throwing glances in the direction of Mistress Mary, who stood white and calm and collected beside her more agitated mistress. I think perhaps she had never looked so beautiful as she did then in her devotion and courage; and I hated to see the eyes of those two bad men scanning her at their evil pleasure.
After a while the Judge took up the word again, and said that for the high misdemeanour of Miss Blake and all the persons named upon the list which had been read, a fine would be laid upon them by the court; but that this fine should be the Christmas Box of the Maids of Honour of her Majesty the Queen, and that they should levy it upon the Taunton Maids at their will and pleasure. How the sentence was worded I cannot remember, but that was the substance of it. The Taunton Maids were to remain at large, but to be given (as it were) to the Maids of Honour for a Christmas Box; and they were to have liberty to exact as much money as could be wrung from the parents and guardians of the maids. But after having so disposed of the irresponsible culprits, the Judge turned with a heavy frown upon Miss Blake, and thundered out that as she had been the planner and contriver of all this, and knew what she was doing, which the young maids did not, she was condemned to be imprisoned in Dorchester jail at the King's pleasure, where doubtless she would come to repent her of her evil ways.
Then whilst poor Miss Blake turned pale and seemed about to swoon, and the women in the court who had known her for long fell a-weeping, the Judge turned his evil eyes upon Mistress Mary and said,—
"As for you, young Mistress, who are old enough to know better, yet have been led into evil practices by those about you, I will pass over your misdemeanour in this matter but lightly. You shall pay your share of the fine imposed; but for the rest, your imprisonment shall not be in any jail—that were something too hard for youth and beauty. Yet inasmuch as you have proved stubborn and rebellious, and are not fit to be custodian of your own fortune nor of your own person, we give you here in troth-plight to good Mr. Nicholas Blewer, a godly and a loyal subject; and he will guide and teach and admonish you, and train you to be a submissive wife and a good subject. To-morrow we will see you wed ere we leave the town,—And so, ladies, farewell!"
I listened aghast. My eyes turned helplessly from the evil face of the Judge to the triumphant one of Master Blewer, wreathed in smiles that turned me sick; and then to the cold, calm visage of Mistress Mary, who seemed scarce to take in the meaning of these terrible words. After standing for a minute, gazing as if horror-struck at the Judge, she suddenly pulled her hood over her face, and went out walking unsteadily, so that many thought her weeping.
But I knew better: Mistress Mary's spirit was one that rose under stress of peril when that of another would have sunk. I was near to a door, and I pushed my way out and fought my way through all sorts of places where I had no business, till I found myself at her side. Her face was as white as death; but she grasped me by the hand when she saw me, and said, in a low, strained voice,—
"Take me somewhere, Dicon, before he can get out!"
"Come with me!" I said, rapidly reviewing the situation, and striving to know what to do; and as we passed out together, I heard people saying one to another, "She is ill! she is stricken to death!" "The evil visage of that man has killed her!"
"Yes," I cried, seizing my opportunity, "she is ill—she is very ill. She is stricken with a fever. I must take her to those who can tend her.—Lean on me, Mistress Mary; I will take care of you."
She obeyed me mechanically. I do not think she either heard or saw. There was a stunned look upon her face, as though somehow the soul had gone out of it. I knew that her mind was working inwardly all the more keenly and intensely; but to others it looked indeed as though she had been stricken for death, so ashen grey was her face, so fixed and irresponsive her eyes.
She put her hand upon my arm, and by many by-ways and alleys I led her away, none following, as all interest was still centred in the doings of the court. Still I was resolved to baffle all pursuit; and since poor Miss Blake was committed to prison, there was no safety for Mistress Mary beneath the accustomed roof.
So I took her straight to the Simpsons' house, where Lizzie welcomed her with open arms; and after I had whispered long in her ear, a look of keen intelligence beamed over her face, and she whispered back in eager accents,—
"Trust us, good Dicon. We would do more than that for sweet Mistress Mary to save her from such a fate!"
THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES.
And what then was our plan? If, reader, you will trouble yourself so far as to read the annals of Taunton for this time, and especially the part of it which refers to the Taunton Maids, you will find it set down that there was one maid who appeared in court besides Miss Blake; and that the terrible looks of the bloody Judge struck such terror into her heart, that she pulled her hood over her face and fell a-weeping, and so left the court; and that so great was her fright that she went home and sank down in a swoon, and was dead of sheer terror before the sun had set. And if you will seek amongst the graves in the churchyard here, you will find one that bears the name of Mary Mead; and you will be told by the sexton that it is the grave of the fairest of the Taunton Maids, who worked the most beautiful of all the banners that were given to the Duke of Monmouth by Taunton Town, and who fell sick upon the very day on which she had borne herself so bravely in court before the wicked Judge Jeffreys, and died and was buried, though she was to have been wed on the very day of her funeral.
The story says that it was to a handsome young Viscount that she was to have given her hand, and claims sympathy for the maid on that account; but those who remember the real scene know better than that, although there are but few who know that Mary Mead does not lie in that grave, but that therein lies only a coffin filled with books and stones; whilst she—but I must not get on too fast with my story.
In the confusion and excitement of the town at this time, and the universal fear and indignation inspired by these trials, it was so easy to arrange the thing. A coffin was brought to the Simpsons' house that very night, for a maid stricken with a fever; and after it was filled with heavy substances, the lid was screwed down, and an order for burial was easy to obtain. For all had heard the story of Mary Mead in court, and how she had been stricken as it were for death upon receiving her sentence from the Judge, so that none were surprised to hear how sudden the end had been; and since Mr. Blewer had drunk himself drunk with Lord Jeffreys that night, as a fitting preparation for his nuptials with a pure and virtuous maiden on the morrow, even he did not trouble us with any inquiry. Then as all men had a wholesome horror of fever, the coffin was promptly screwed down, and all made ready for the burying before the dawn of the day.
God forgive us if we did amiss; but those were hard and cruel days, and poor persecuted folks were driven sometimes to sore straits if they were to escape worse than death. I, at least, felt no qualm at that time, whatever falsehood I told to stand betwixt Mistress Mary and the peril of being wedded to that wicked man, who would make of her fair young life a veritable hell upon earth. For her sweet sake, let alone for my lord's, I would have done more than I did. As I say again, God forgive us our sin; for sin we did, albeit I scarce know now how I should act were such a thing to come into my life once more.
So whilst all Taunton slept after the excitement of that day, and in prospect of the near excitements of the coming executions, Mistress Mary and I slipped from the town on foot, and by unfrequented routes; and before the first streak of coming day appeared in the east, I had piloted her through the marshy tract of ground nigh to Bishop's Hull, and had left her, exhausted but in peace, with the kindly cottage folks, who had had their instructions from their well-loved foster-child, and who received this other Mistress Mary with open arms.
Indeed the story of the scene in the Assize Hall roused within them feelings of the keenest indignation. They would have done much more than was asked of them to save a victim of wicked Judge Jeffreys from the fate he had assigned her. They lived near enough to Taunton to know somewhat of Mr. Blewer and his evil report; and when I sallied forth again at break of day, it was to feel that no surer place of refuge could have been found for Mistress Mary, and no more loving guardians.
But there was plenty of work awaiting me still. I knew not the day nor the hour when Will's punishment would commence; and it was needful that I should see and bribe the hangman, that he laid the stripes but lightly on my poor comrade's back, despite the charge of the Judge. The execution of the prisoners condemned to death was fixed for the thirtieth of the month—only a few days distant; but Will might be whipped at any time, and if I knew Mr. Blewer aright, he would seek the pleasure of seeing it done right speedily. Well did I know that it was his spite alone which had caused Will to be arrested. And the only marvel was that I had escaped his rancour, the more so that I had deceived him about Mistress Mary and Lord Lonsdale's speedy coming. But perhaps he had thought that I spoke in good faith, and was myself deceived. At least he doubtless saw his way to a more speedy and triumphant accomplishment of his wishes by gaining the ear of the wicked Judge, and therefore laid his plans accordingly, caring nothing for the guardian's consent, now that he had the mandate of the Chief-Justice.
I reached the town again before daylight, and found Master Simpson's house straitly shut up. For already it had been whispered abroad that Mistress Mary had died of the plague—the report having been set afoot by the gossip of the excited maid-servant, who had seen the grey and rigid face of the maiden as she was brought in, and hearing almost at once that she had died, ran forth in a great fright to her own relations, and declared that she had seen a dark spot on the brow of the lady; and in a short while it was being whispered about that the plague had suddenly stricken her and carried her off—which was thought only too possible in those days.
Nothing could have turned out better for our purpose, albeit we had not ourselves set the rumour afloat, nor did we hear anything of it till that morning, when a mandate reached the household from the Mayor, ordering instant burial for the body, and that none should come forth from that house till leave was given from him.
Luckily for me I was away when that mandate came, so I escaped the imprisonment which Lizzie and her aunt suffered for fourteen days, very willingly. And this saved them from any questioning or trouble from Mr. Blewer, who did not dare to came anigh the house; and though they say he raved and raged horribly at the ill turn fate had done him, he did not suspect for a moment that any trick had been played upon him. He, like all Taunton, believed in the death of the maid; and only when no more signs of the plague appeared in the house or the place did men say it was most like to have been a virulent fever, caught perhaps in court from some prisoner from the fetid jail, or engendered by the fright of being brought face to face with the Judge.
As for me, being unable to obtain entrance to the Simpsons' house, I went straight home and took from my store several golden guineas; and then I made my way to the Bridewell, to seek speech with the hangman, and see if I could bribe him to treat Will but lightly and mercifully.
Whilst I was passing through the streets I saw a great crowd gathered. Coming hastily to the edge of it, I asked what was going on, and was told that Mistress Hannah Hewling had been waiting outside a certain house where Lord Jeffreys was known to be, to petition him on coming out for a respite of her brother's sentence; for she verily believed that such interest would be made by their parents and friends in London town, that if he could but be respited a few days his pardon would be assured.
I heard a woman's voice in the midst of the crowd raised in imploring tones, and I heard the brutal laugh of the wicked Judge—that malicious laugh I had heard so often of late, and which seemed the most evil thing about that most evil man. Then suddenly the crowd parted with cries of, "Have a care! have a care!" and I saw that the Judge had stepped into his coach, and that the prancing horses were just starting.
But even then Mistress Hannah would not cease her pleading. She hung upon the coach, still rending the air with her cries, and offering—I think it was a thousand pounds for just two days' respite. But Jeffreys looked forth from the window, his eyes scintillating with passion, and he cried out to his coachman,—
"Whip her off! whip her off! Cut her hands to pieces! I will not be badgered thus!"
And the man, who seemed to be a worthy fellow of such a master, took his heavy whip and lashed at the poor lady's white hands as they still clung to the coach; and the people started forward and caught her as she fell away, half fainting with pain and anguish. And methinks if the Judge could but have heard the curses with which he was followed as he drove away, he would scarce have felt comfortable for the rest of the day.
Now it so chanced that Mother Whale was in Taunton that day, and she was standing in the crowd when this thing happened; and suddenly tossing her withered arms into the air, she burst into a torrent of execration that sounded almost like words of prophecy. The people stood agape with a stern joy as she hurled her maledictions upon him, and screamed after him that his turn would one day come—that he should himself be a fugitive from mankind, and should sue for the mercy which should be refused him, and should perish miserably at last like the wretched brute beast that he was!
Then all the people cried, "Amen! Amen!" and Mother Whale was taken into many houses that day and treated sumptuously; but she would add nothing to the words she had spoken, nor say how and when they would be fulfilled. All Taunton, however, was whispering that a frightful fate would follow this monster, and a stern satisfaction was upon the faces of those who heard and those who told the news.
So many interruptions on the way hindered my errand, and I was but just in time. Poor Will was to be whipped through the streets of the town this very day; but the fellow who had charge of the whipping was known to me, and had small relish for the office, seeing that Will was a favourite with all who knew him, and had won golden opinions in the prison by his wit and cheerfulness, and the way he had served and entertained his fellow-prisoners, keeping up their courage and making light of hardships.
It needed little of my gold to win the promised leniency.
"I would not lay a finger on the lad if I could help it!" said the man; "but were I to put the office on another, the poor fellow might fare worse. He is a right brave and good lad. I would it were yon black-coated knave of a parson that I had under my lash! I would not spare him. I would warm his shoulders well, and give them a red jacket to boot that he should carry for long enough!"
Mr. Blewer was not beloved in Taunton, and his spite towards Will had long been known.
Will came out looking pale, as he had done in court yesterday, but resolute and fearless for all that. His eyes lighted at sight of me, and he gave the hand I held out to him a hearty squeeze.
"It's all for the good cause, Dicon," he said. "Art not thou ashamed to speak with one who is to be tied to the cart's tail yonder?"
"Ashamed of thee, Will? I would I were half the man that thou art!" And then coming a little nearer, I whispered in his ear,—
"He will make thy punishment as light as he can, Will; and after the Judge be safely gone back out of the West, men say that prisoners will have little to fear. The Mayors and people of the towns will have none of his brutal sentences carried out. Thou wilt not be sent from town to town as he said."
Will gave a nod, but could say no more; for the executioner had come to tie him to the cart, and Mr. Blewer came hurrying up that he might witness the pain and shame of the boy he hated. But this was too much for the crowd. Whether or not this man was a friend of the dreaded Judge who had not yet left the town, the crowd was not to be quelled. A storm of groans and hisses arose at sight of him; women shook their fists in his face, and children took up stones, and would have cast them at him but for the restraining hands of their mothers. One great brawny blacksmith came forward with his hammer in his hand and stood right in front of the white-faced poltroon, who was looking this way and that, as though he knew not whether to fly or to hurl threats and defiance at the mob.
"Look you here, sir," said the man, speaking loud enough for everybody to hear. "You'd better watch this thing from somewhere else than the public streets, if you don't want the coat, which you're a disgrace to, to be torn off your back! I tell you, sir, that it would not take more than a few words from some amongst us to get you stripped and set where that poor lad is now; and there's not a man amongst us but would be glad to lay lashes on your back—ay, and we would too, if once our blood was up. So if you value a sound skin, go while there is yet time! Taunton Town is not trodden so much in the dust yet that she cannot rise in revolt against a monster like you!"
Yells, hisses, and groans filled the air, and Mr. Blewer's face turned from white to purple, and again faded to an ashen grey. If ever man looked cowed and beaten, he did then. But he took the hint, and made off as fast as his legs would carry him; and I verily believe had it been any other time—had the sense of fear inspired by recent events not been still strong upon the people—that he would have been pounced upon then and there, and whipped at the cart's tail through the streets of Taunton by the infuriated populace.
As it was, it was poor Will who was whipped, though the lashes were but lightly laid on; and I think the boy scarce felt the pain in the sense of triumph at the discomfiture of his foe, and in the encouragement and sympathy of his townsmen. I walked beside him all the way, and he looked at me every now and then with a smile. All sense of shame—which to some natures is the bitterest part of such a punishment—was saved him; for he was regarded by the people as a sufferer in a noble cause, and as a youthful martyr might have been in days of old. Women wept and blessed him; men called out brave words of praise and encouragement. He held his head up to the very last; and though he sometimes winced and shrank, he did not utter a cry the whole way through the town and back.
But alas, alas! we had only raised in the breast of his implacable foe a spirit of hostility which would not be satisfied without a speedy vengeance. As we entered the yard of the prison again, there was Mr. Blewer waiting for us; and as he cast a scrutinizing glance upon poor Will's back lined with blue wales, he uttered a snort of contempt and anger, and turned upon the executioner with an air of stern displeasure.
Will was led away by the jailer, who treated him kindly enough; but the hangman was detained by Mr. Blewer, who said severely,—
"Why, fellow, what do you mean by carrying out my lord's sentences in such a fashion? He straitly charged you not to spare the rod; and you have not only spared it, but have scarce let him feel it! I tell you, fellow, the Judge's mandates are not thus to be set aside. I will report the matter to him, and see what he says!"
And at that the fellow broke out in a great passion, as well indeed he might.
"Sir," he cried, "men talk with horror of the cruelties of the Popish Priests; but commend me to a Church of England Priest for downright cruelty! You are like the country Justices who will not believe that a man is burnt in the hand unless they can see a hole through it! Shame upon you, sir. You would not dare to speak thus were the citizens of Taunton here to listen!"
Mr. Blewer's face expressed all sorts of evil emotions. He raised the cane he held in his hand and slightly threatened the man with it.
"Have a care, fellow! have a care how you speak, or you may chance to get a taste of your own rope's end one of these days!"
"I would I could give you a taste of it!" muttered the man as he walked off in a rage; and as I followed him to get speech if it were possible of Will, he broke out again and cried, "I verily believe the whole place has gone mad. Men seem to be drunk with blood. Surely this is like the great whore of the Scriptures who is drunk with the blood of saints and martyrs! The King and his ministers will have a deal to answer for when the books come to be opened at the Day of Judgment!"
My heart swells even now with indignation when I think of the rest of this story. What passed betwixt Mr. Blewer and that wicked Judge I know not, nor can any man tell, but (although I knew it not till after the evil deed had been done—whereby I was saved some suffering) a mandate was sent down that very day to the keeper of the prison, saying that the boy Wiseman was to be whipped again upon the morrow; and that another man was to be chosen for the office, that the sentence of the Judge might be adequately carried out! And this thing was done in the prison-yard—for methinks the keeper of the prison was afraid to do it in the open streets—and the poor lad was so cruelly whipped that they say the bones of his back were laid bare. And it was in almost a dying state that he was carried back to the prison, where he fell into high fever, and might well have died had not news come of it to our ears, and had we not procured for him a separate room, where he could have ease and quiet, and such good nourishment and tendance as his state demanded.
But when I saw him first he knew me not; and though I came day after day, he lay in a death-like stupor, muttering to himself, but speaking no word that any might understand, and only moaning a little when his wounds were dressed by the godly woman whose services we had bespoken for him.
"Never weep for him, Dicon," said the good woman to me, as my tears fell fast at his sad state. "Methinks the Lord will yet raise him up. And this fever is a merciful thing for him, for it dulls his pains, and he knows naught of his sufferings: it would be far worse were he himself. We will get his wounds partly healed before he comes to feel them. He takes his broth and milk, and he gets a sort of rest by day, though he is wakeful and feverish at night. Yet I can see that he makes progress day by day. He is a bold lad and full of spirit. He will be a sound and whole man yet, please God."
So I received comfort, though my heart was still full of rage and grief; and methinks Mr. Blewer would have been well-nigh torn in pieces in Taunton streets had he dared to show himself there, but he took himself off to Wells when the Judge moved thither, and for a short time we saw him no more.
There was one more terrible day for Taunton upon the last of this month of September, when the bloody sentences of death were executed upon the prisoners condemned to die there—nineteen in number.
Great numbers of other prisoners, who were condemned on pleading guilty in a body, did not suffer death, but were sold by the Judge to various persons, who either extorted from their friends a ransom for them, or in the case of meaner persons, whose friends had no money, shipped them off to the plantations to be sold there, where it was said that they fetched about ten pounds a head. Great numbers of these unfortunate men perished on the outward voyage; but some reached there alive, and of these some very few returned in after years to their country and their friends. I have myself spoken with more than one such, who has told me moving stories of the sufferings they underwent first in the vessels which conveyed them to these torrid zones, and afterwards at the hands of cruel task-masters. But of this I cannot more particularly speak now. It belongs not to my story, save to account for the fact that whilst so many, many hundreds, and even thousands, were condemned to death, the greater number of these were not executed, but were treated in this manner.
I will not describe further the horrid side of the execution of our friends and fellow-citizens of Taunton; but I will speak of their bravery, their resignation, and the words and bearing of them, which made even their enemies say afterwards, "If you want to learn how to die, go to the young men of Taunton to learn."
No respite of his sentence had come for Mr. Benjamin Hewling, and he was one of the most courageous and steadfast of them all. Of those to die with him whom I have named in these pages were Master (or Captain) John Hucker and Mr. William Jenkyns. The only favour that their friends could obtain for some amongst these was the right to bury them in the churchyard after death. To save his corpse from dismemberment, Miss Hannah Hewling had to pay the thousand pounds she had offered for the life of her brother; and there were a few others who gained this privilege also, though upon what terms I have never heard. Surely this Western Assize must have been a fortune in itself for Lord Jeffreys. It was told us afterwards that he bought a fine property on the proceeds of the bribes received and the sale of prisoners living or dead. Methinks that such a house as that must surely have been haunted by the shades of many an innocent sufferer!
When the prisoners were brought forth from the Castle by the Sheriffs, and the sledge brought which was to convey them to the place of execution—the Cornhill, where already a large fire had been lighted, so that those who were to be dismembered and their hearts burned might see the flames beforehand—they came forth looking calm and glad, and speaking brave words of comfort both to one another and to their friends, Mr. Benjamin Hewling being (like his younger brother) most sweet and tender in his fashion of speaking, so that tears ran down all faces. But the Sheriffs hurried them upon the sledge, grudging to them even the last words and embraces of their friends; and then the procession started. But a very strange thing then happened: the horses kept stopping short and refusing to draw the sledge, and they snorted and shrank back, and broke out in a sweat, as horses will do when greatly frightened. And all men marvelled at it, and whispered one to another that sure the Angel of the Lord stood with a drawn sword in his hand to keep back His servants from their bloody doom. I believe indeed that this was so; for I, who was mounted on Blackbird, that I might see above the heads of the crowd, felt him shake and grow rigid beneath me, as though he too saw some strange sight. At last the Mayor and Sheriffs had themselves to come forward and actually pull and force the horses onwards, although to the very last they resisted, and showed every sign of terror and reluctance.
Upon the scaffold the prisoners embraced each other and joined in prayer; but they were rudely interrupted by the Sheriff, who doubtless feared some breaking forth on the part of the people.
"May we not pray a while ere we are brought before our Maker?" asked one; whereupon the Sheriff answered by a rough question,—
"Will you pray for the King?"
"I pray for all men," was the answer; and having thus prayed, he further asked if they might sing a Psalm.
"It must be with the ropes about your necks then," answered the Sheriff brutally; but with a smile they consented joyfully to this.
Sure never was Psalm so sweetly or strangely sung as the twenty-third of David that day by our brothers just with their last breath. So touched were all by the scene, that it seemed as though all the town had come forth to bear to their graves those for whom this favour had been purchased; and as we stood to see the earth thrown upon them, we broke ourselves into the words of the same Psalm, and felt indeed that the valley of death had had no terrors for those who walked with the staff of the Lord in their hands, and were comforted by His presence even there.
PEACE AFTER STORM.
The Judge was gone; the prisons were emptying fast; men began to breathe again after their long terror; those who had fled their homes, and had been living in hiding in terror of their lives, came out once more, and appeared to gladden the hearts of their friends. It was said that a general pardon would now be issued to all those who had not suffered, and that the terrible time was over at last. The King, we heard, had been excellently well pleased by what his Lord Chief-Justice had done in the West, and soon rewarded him with the Chancellorship, as had always been believed. I think perhaps it was the knowledge of these things which went far to stir the hearts of the people against their sovereign, and to pave the way three years later for the bloodless revolution which set a Protestant and a Constitutional ruler upon the throne in place of the Papist tyrant. I sometimes think that had we of the West Country had more patience, and had we waited till the time was ripe, we might have been called patriots and saviours of our country instead of rebels and traitors, to be massacred and hanged by the hundred. But then, again, I have learned to doubt whether the Duke of Monmouth would ever have been received by the nation, or have made a wise ruler had he been so received. Men who best understand him and the matter say that he could never have made good his title to the throne, that he was not born in wedlock, and that the people would never have suffered a sovereign with a stain upon his birth. Queen Mary with her good husband proved a kind and a wise ruler, and beneath her gentle sway peace, order, liberty, and prosperity were quickly restored; and yet there be men who even now talk as though the Duke or his son might yet come back to put forward a claim, and many declare that he never died upon the scaffold, but that he was personated to the very last by a devoted follower.
All this is looking ahead. In the days of which I speak we had no knowledge of the good times to come. We breathed indeed, feeling that the iron hand of military and judicial vengeance was relaxed from our throat; but it seemed to us then as if the bloody James were seated all the more firmly upon his throne.
And now what shall I tell next of all the events that followed in such quick succession? Perhaps whilst my mind is upon the subject I will speak of Mr. Blewer and the vengeance which fell upon him for his cruelty to a Taunton boy.
I have mentioned before good Bishop Ken, who did so much to ease the condition of prisoners, and who was beloved throughout all his diocese. He came to visit Taunton not long after these things had happened; and going into the prison, he found poor Will in a sad state still, although greatly better than he had been.
It chanced, as luck would have it, that I was with him when the Bishop came; for Will's case had excited much comment in the town, and he was permitted to see his friends and enjoy many small privileges, which indeed his state demanded. And after the kindly Bishop had spoken to the boy, and had prayed beside him a beautiful prayer, he asked me how he came into so sad a state. Then I told him everything I knew, striving to hold my wrath in check, as was due to my superior, but scarce able to keep it from breaking out when I spoke of Mr. Blewer.
I thought that the Lord Bishop's face grew stern as he listened, and I hoped that some punishment might fall upon the man who was a disgrace to the sacred calling he had embraced; and in truth I was not mistaken in this, as I will proceed to tell.
I think it was the next day that the Bishop and Mr. Axe were walking together through the town, and talking of many things—Mr. Axe, as I have many times said, being a reverend and godly man, well thought of by all, a loyal servant to the King, and a lover of order, but always on the side of mercy and justice.
Well, as these walked and talked there came towards them Mr. Blewer, mincing and bowing, and plainly resolved to gain the notice of the Lord Bishop; for he had an eye to promotion to some office in the Church, and trusted that he might gain the good-will of this good man, and so be appointed to some living. As he approached, the Bishop looked at him, asking his companion who the person was who evidently desired to attract his notice. Mr. Axe replied with some brevity and coldness that his name was Mr. Blewer, and that he had been living for some time in Taunton, appointed by Mr. Harte to assist in the services of St. Mary's Church.
At the sound of that name the Bishop's fine face became very stern; and as Mr. Blewer came up with mincing steps and hat in hand, believing that the Bishop had paused to permit his approach, he fixed his eyes upon him, and spoke in a tone that all the bystanders could hear.
"Mr. Blewer," he said, "I have heard of you before. Indeed I have had it in my thoughts to summon you to my presence."
"My lord, you do me too much honour!" was the delighted answer, as the creature stood bowing and mincing before the Bishop, his evil face wearing its expression of submissive adulation, such as had been seen upon it in presence of the Lord Chief-Justice. "It is very true that I have done all in my poor power in the cause of law and righteousness during these troubled days, but I had scarce hoped that my poor services would have reached the ears of my gracious lord."
"Sir," answered the good Bishop, with gathering sternness, "the less you speak of righteousness the better, for there has been little of it in your conduct during these troubled days. Sir, think you that at a time when every man calling himself the servant of God should have been straining every nerve in the cause of mercy and tenderness, it is for the clergy to disgrace themselves by acts of selfishness, rapacity, and barbarity which make all honest men shudder and breathe forth curses? Nay, sir, answer me not. It is for me to speak and for you to listen. I have heard of you, Mr. Blewer. I have heard how you persecuted an innocent maiden, and how you cajoled and bribed a certain high personage to grant you her hand in marriage, not for any love you bore her—for you had openly boasted that you would rid yourself of her in a year's time—but because she had money, which you desired to possess; and how she was only saved from your malice by the merciful hand of death. Sir, you are as guilty of that sweet and tender maiden's death as though you had slain her with your own hands. Small wonder that the very thought of being placed for life in such cruel hands caused that deadly fever of which she quickly died. I blush with shame to think that one who has dared to take upon himself the sacred calling and the holy office of the priesthood could ever thus disgrace both himself and his calling!"
"My lord, my lord, you have been misinformed. Some enemy has been wickedly slandering me. Alas! in this evil town a godly man has but too many foes. I swear that I loved the maid—that I would have made her the best of husbands. My lord, I have been cruelly maligned. There is no man in Taunton with a tenderer heart than mine. God be my witness that I speak the truth!"
The Bishop raised his hand in stern displeasure. "Sir," he said, "take not that Holy Name to profane it by falsehood. Can a man who will drink himself drunk with the Lord Jeffreys and his boon companions, and join with him in profane swearing and ribald jesting—can he be a fit spouse for a godly and a pure maid, to whom evil is but a name? Mr. Blewer, think not to deceive me by false swearing; I know too much of you and of your practices. And as though it was not enough to seek to wreck the life of this maiden, you must seek also to do to death in a most cruel and barbarous manner a lad whose only fault has been a boyish lack of discretion. Sir, my blood tingles in my veins at the thought of this thing. Were our prisons not crowded enough with men taken in the very act of rebellion, that you must needs lay an accusation against a young lad of excellent character for a mere indiscretion, and get him also incarcerated in those filthy dens, to languish there for weeks? And having done this, and having borne witness which gained for the poor child a whipping far in excess of his fault, what fiend possessed you to carry a tale to the Judge in his cups, and gain for the boy such handling that his life has barely been saved by the exertions of his friends and the leniency of the prison authorities, themselves ashamed of such a deed? Man, man, I almost forget myself in anger as I think of this thing. You calling yourself a priest and servant of the Most High God, a minister of His children, a messenger of peace and righteousness—you to show yourself such a monster of cruelty that the blood curdles at the tale of your deeds! Go, sir; let me never see you again. And do not dare ever to pollute a pulpit, or perform any holy office in the diocese over which I reign, lest I take upon myself to excommunicate you, as in the good old days of ecclesiastical discipline would have been done for a far less offence than yours!"
And the good Bishop walked on with a stern face, leaving the miscreant he had so worthily lashed with his tongue cowering and shivering with rage and fear, his face livid with passion and disappointment, and his hands nervously clutching at the cane he carried, as though in an instinctive longing to lay it about the shoulders of some innocent victim.
Not daring to follow, or to say another word to the good Bishop, who was known to be a most tender-hearted man, and whose scathing rebuke was therefore far more telling than it would have been in the lips of the military Bishop Mew, who had actually taken the field in person, the wretched creature lingered staring after the retreating figures until they had turned the next corner, and then, gnashing his teeth in impotent shame and rage, he turned towards his own lodgings, and made as though he would have retired thither.
But he was not destined to attain this shelter so speedily as he had thought. A crowd had gathered in the street to hear the Bishop's reprimand, and murmurs of applause and approval had greeted every scathing rebuke. The very fact that the Bishop had not scrupled to speak thus in public to a clergyman showed how greatly his indignation had been aroused; and as the evil creature turned to leave the scene of his humiliation, he found himself suddenly confronted by the brawny blacksmith who had given him a taste of his tongue on another occasion.
"Ho, ho, Sir Priest! so the good Lord Bishop is not a friend to drunkenness and debauchery and savage cruelty! And so the discipline of the Church is relaxed, is it, and its evil servants cannot be touched? Sure that must be a sore matter of regret to so righteous a man as good Mr. Blewer.—Friends," and here he turned his face with a not too pleasant grin upon it towards the crowd now pressing closely round, "since the good gentleman here is debarred from the discipline of the Church, suppose we good citizens give him a taste of such discipline as our town cudgels can bestow."