Читать книгу The Knight of the Golden Melice - John Turvill Adams - Страница 5
ОглавлениеA gentle knight was pricking on the plaine.
Spencer.
On the morning of a fine day, a fortnight after the occurrences above narrated, a horseman was riding over the neck, or narrow strip of marshy ground, which connects the peninsula on which Boston is situated with the main land. The rider was a tall, handsome man, of apparently some thirty-five years of age, who sat on his steed and handled the reins with a practiced grace, as if the saddle and himself were familiar acquaintances. Under a broad-brimmed, slouched hat, fell curls of dark hair, down the sides of an oval though rather thin face, embrowned by exposure to the weather. The nose was curved like the beak of an eagle, the eyes bright and wild as those of the royal bird, and a close beard curled over the face, including the upper lip, the bold yet sweet expression of which it did not conceal.
The dress of the cavalier was in the fashion of the times, though sobered down, either for the purpose of attracting less attention, or out of deference to the customs of the people he was among. A close fitting doublet or jerkin, of black velvet, over which was thrown a light cloak of the same color, but of different material, and a falling collar, shaped somewhat like those in Vandyke's portraits, edged with a narrow peccadillo or fringe of lace, ornamented the upper part of his person; his hands and wrists were protected by long gloves or gauntlets, reaching half way up to the elbow, and opening wide at the top; russet-colored boots expanded at the aperture and garnished with spurs reached high up the legs, and a small cut and thrust sword, suspended by a belt, which was also russet-colored, hung at his side. The handle of the sword was exquisitely beautiful, worthy of being the work of Cellini himself. It was mostly of massive gold, the hilt smooth and shining, and the guard embossed with a variety of elegant devices. But the part which first arrested attention and attracted the most admiration was the head, whereupon was sculptured a gigantic honey-bee, with wings expanded, as if about to fly from its perch; the eyes were sparkling diamonds, the body was composed of different colored metals, in imitation of life—and the whole so cunningly wrought, that it seemed a living bee about to mount into the air. The man rode and looked as if not anticipating, and incapable of fearing danger, carelessly glancing round, while the noble animal he bestrode, as if he had caught the spirit of his rider, stepped high and gallantly along. But in truth there was little or no danger, the white settlers being, at the time, at peace with the neighboring Indian tribes.
It was a mere bridle-path the horseman was following, which wound about in various directions, in order to avoid marshy ground, or trunks of trees, or other obstacles, and appeared to be perfectly familiar to the horse, who trotted on without any guidance from his rider. As for the latter, as if to beguile the tediousness of the way, he would pat at one moment the neck of his dumb companion, and address a few words to him, and at the next, break out into snatches of song. Thus he proceeded until he emerged from the woods, and an open space, the site of the future city of Boston, once the cornfields of warlike tribes, mysteriously removed by pestilence, in order as to the excited imaginations of the early settlers it seemed, to make room for the fugitives, lay spread before him.
The rider stopped his horse, and for some moments sat in silence gazing on the scene. From the eminence, to whose top he had ridden, declined before him the sloping hills, on whose sides open cultivated spaces were interspersed with woods. On the waters' edge, for the most part, were scattered the houses of the colonists, the majority of them rude huts, made of unhewn logs, with here and there a frame building, or a brick or stone house of less humble pretensions, while beyond, rolled the sparkling waves of the bay, sprinkled with "a great company of islands, whose high cliffs shoulder out the boisterous seas," as the old chronicler Wood expresses it, and rocking a few small vessels lying at anchor. He who viewed the region that morning, must have had a brilliant imagination to dream of the magnificent cities destined to stud those coasts, and of the millions to fill those extensive forests within two hundred years. Westward, indeed, the star of Empire had taken its way, and the wise men of the East were following its heavenly guidance; but who knew it then?
At last, excited by the view and his thoughts, the rider rose in his stirrups, and stretching out his arms, gave expression, in a low voice, to his feelings—
"Well may these men, who hope to found a new dynasty, be proud of the lovely land which they have chosen for a refuge! If iron resolution, scorn of delights and contempt of death could do it, they would accomplish the emprise—mais l'homme propose et Dieu dispose. Without the directing mind and sustaining arm of the source of all wisdom and power, in vain is the labor of man. Ruin and disgrace shall overwhelm all undertakings not founded on the Rock of Ages. With what great events teems the bosom of futurity? O, that my eyes could pierce the misty distance; that my dim presaging soul could behold the stately advance of the coming centuries, whose sounding feet I fancy that I can hear! Bear they in their hands weal or woe to humanity? Hath the creative energy set a limit, beyond which the tide of human accomplishment, like the hidden power in yonder heaving ocean, may not rise; but, having reached its destined apex, must, with hoarse murmurs, recoil back upon itself in disordered fragments?—or in these later times, when men were ripe for the blessing, revealed to the world these virgin regions, separated from the vices of Europe and of the East by a mighty sea, here to recommence that experiment which hath partially failed elsewhere, and imparted sufficient measure of His spirit to chosen instruments to work out the problem of human happiness, and to conduct mankind to heights of felicity, beginning here and never ending?—the bare contemplation whereof causes my flesh to quiver with delight."
As he uttered these words, forgetful of his situation, he stuck the spurs into his horse's flanks, and the astonished animal started with a bound. It was then the consummate address wherewith the stranger sat, his horse specially exhibited itself. As if the feeling of the startled steed were instantly communicated to himself; and one spirit animated both, his body bent gently forward in the saddle, catching at once the motion, and accommodating itself thereto, so that the rider appeared as firmly fastened, and as much at his ease, as though he were a part of the animal. After half a dozen plunges, and some soothing words, the excited horse having expressed his displeasure by snorts, frequent and loud at first, but gradually decreasing in rapidity and loudness, yielded to the strong arm of his master, and reduced his pace to the long trot at which he had before proceeded.
"My noble Mourad," said the rider, patting the steed's neck, and addressing him as if capable of understanding language—"I wonder not at thine astonishment; but when these thoughts possess me, I am oblivious of everything else. I will be more heedful henceforth, nor allow splendid imaginations to prick thine innocent sides."
The flexible ears of Mourad moved backward and forward while his rider was speaking, his dilated eyes glanced repeatedly back at him, and he shook his head as if not half satisfied with the apology.
And now the stranger, leisurely advancing, soon reached the little collection of houses. Guiding his horse carefully through the unpaved streets, and avoiding the stumps of trees which were occasionally to be met, he stopped at a house of somewhat more imposing appearance than the rest. It was of wood, like most of the other dwellings, and differed from them principally in being larger. It could not be said to belong to any order or style of architecture, but bore a general resemblance to buildings erected in England at the time. It stood with its gable-ends, three in number, to the street, the roof rising up steeply, and making a considerable garret, the side of the gable-ends projecting over the second story, as did also that over the first. The windows were of a square form, with small diamond-shaped panes, opening by hinges at the sides, and there was but one entrance in front, to protect which a small verandah or porch was thrown across the building. Two men, in the ordinary dress and equipments of soldiers of the period, their clumsy muskets leaning against the side, were seated on a bench near the entrance, and by their presence indicated the residence of Governor Winthrop.
"Is the right worshipful Governor at home so that he may be seen?" inquired the stranger, as he dismounted from the horse, whose bridle was held by one of the soldiers.
"He is at home, and may be seen, Sir Christopher," replied one of the men, "I will conduct you to his presence."
So saying, the soldier opened the door, and preceding the visitor, ushered him into a hall some ten feet wide, and thence into a small ante-room, or room of reception, where he was entreated to be seated, while his arrival should be announced. It required but a moment, which was the whole time of the soldier's absence, for the stranger to take a survey of the room wherein he sat.
It was not more than twelve or fifteen feet square, and destitute of paper or hangings, and the floor, like that of the hall, was bare, and made of coarsely-planed boards. It had two doors, one opening into the hall and another into an adjoining room, and was lighted by a single window. Its furniture consisted of only a few wooden chairs and benches.
"The right worshipful Governor directs me to invite you to him," said the messenger, throwing open the second door above mentioned.
The stranger rose, and crossing with a stately step the ante-chamber, followed the soldier into the adjoining apartment.
"Welcome, Sir Christopher," exclaimed the Governor, rising from a desk, at which he had been writing, and advancing with extended hand to his visitor, "I am honored in seeing you again in my poor house."
"He may deem himself a minion of fortune," courteously replied the stranger addressed as Sir Christopher, grasping the offered hand, "who either in this far wilderness or in the proud streets of London, is privileged to exchange salutations of friendship with so worthy and every way accomplished a gentleman as the honored chief magistrate of this colony."
"Alas! I fear," rejoined Winthrop, taking a seat, after first formally seating the other, "alas! I fear that my shoulders are too weak for so great a burden. Were it not for the prize of the high calling set before me, and the sweet refreshment sometimes breathed into me by the Spirit, I should faint beneath its weight."
"We are commanded neither to faint nor to be weary of well-doing," said Sir Christopher, "with comfortable assurances that as is our need, so shall our strength be. But, honored sir, I much mistake the nobility of your mind, if you would be willing to exchange your high place for a meaner lot. I thank God that you are placed upon an eminence to be a tower of strength to those who do well, and a terror to the evil."
"Better," replied Winthrop, "is the humble cottage than the lordly structure whereunto your poetical and extravagant politeness hath likened me. Remember," he added, with a smile, wherein there was some bitterness mingled with its melancholy, for he had of late been annoyed by the rougher nature of Dudley, and the jealousy of some of the Assistants, "altœ turres cadunt dum humiles casœ stant."
"Noble sir," said Sir Christopher, "be not cast down. The foundations of your house are built upon a basis too broad and firm to be blown down by the disorderly breaths of lackeys and trencher-scrapers. Pardon me, if in my zeal I apply ignominious terms to your enemies."
"There be those to be ranked in that category who yet in no wise deserve such epithets," answered the generous Governor. "Were opposition to come only from so base a quarter, little should I heed, and rather consider it an incitement to keener action; but there are also choice spirits, elect vessels, pillars of the congregation, men inspired with godly zeal, who are persuaded themselves, and would persuade others, that I am lukewarm in the cause, and bear the sword in vain."
"If the peevish captiousness of these persons is greatly to influence, I will not say over-awe you, noble sir," said Sir Christopher, "I tremble lest the errand of mercy whereon I come should fail of its purpose."
"Ever true to the principle of the [Greek: Melissa]," said the Governor, smiling "what can the Knight of the Golden Melice crave which John Winthrop can deny?"
The Knight of the Golden [Greek: Melissa], or Melice, as he was commonly called, meaning thereby the Knight of the Golden Honey-Bee, and who, by wearing conspicuously about his person the device or badge adopted when he received the order of knighthood, only complied with the fantastic notions of the times, gazed a moment at the figure of the bee on the handle of his sword, before replying:
"The golden bee does indeed remind me," he said, "that even as he, in the summer of his days, collects the yellow treasure which is to sustain him in the death of winter, so should I, while the day is mine, be busy to perform the will of Him who hath called me to a post in his creation, that I be not ashamed in the grave. I came to ask a favor in behalf of the soldier Philip Joy."
The eyes of Winthrop, which, while the knight was speaking, had been fastened on his face, fell upon the rich Turkey carpet that, with its intricate figures and varied dies, covered, in place of a modern cloth, the table supporting the desk whereat he had been writing.
"The soldier," he said, sit last, slowly, "is enduring the punishment awarded to him by the Court of Assistants."
"A harsh and cruel sentence," said the knight, "and one at the infliction whereof I know your noble nature relucted."
"I may not, without censure of my own conscience, hear those who are associated with me in the government blamed."
"I would not trespass on the bounds of courteous license, but cannot believe that your gentle temper approves of proceedings at once severe and impolitic."
"It becomes me not," said Winthrop, modestly, "to set up my sentiments against the opinion of a majority. This is not the government of one man, and I am, as I may say, it being properly understood, only primus inter pares."
"Then avouch yourself to some purpose to be truly primus, and by your kingly mercy not only put to silence the unruly tongues of men complaining of harshness not without reason, but also take away the occasion for reproach."
"Hitherto," said Winthrop, "you have spoken in riddles, though they are not hard to be guessed; but, nevertheless, let me entreat you to explicate, in plainer phrase, your meaning, and reveal your full desire."
"I came, then," answered the knight, "to solicit the full pardon of Joy."
"It may not be. Though the right to pardon would seem inherent in him to whose hands is entrusted the power to punish, that the sorrow of inflicting pain might be balanced by the joy of conferring pleasure, and so his office be not wholly converted into that of an executioner, yet were I ever so much disposed, I could not, in the present case, grant your request. It would raise a storm which, however little to be regarded for its consequences to myself, might be seriously injurious to the budding interests of our infant state."
"I pray you to consider," said the knight, "the good character of the man accused, ever approving himself brave and faithful in all trusts confided to him; no drone, but an active honey-bee, laying up store in your hive, with no fault charged but speaking too freely, and if that be true, only imitating therein, his betters. Next reflect upon the opposite reputation of his accusers, and I venture to say malingers, though in truth there is but one, not sustained by the other. Men are murmuring at your sentence, and holding your justice for naught, a sure presage of troublous times; and be assured, that a commonwealth not founded in righteousness cannot stand, for on it rests not the blessing of Heaven."
"Sir Christopher Gardiner," said Winthrop, "you have spoken boldly, and but that I believe in your honesty, and am assured of your friendship, I should be offended. But you belong not to the congregation, your notions differing from our faith; the light which illuminates the minds of the chosen remnant which Providence hath planted in this far off land, this ultissima Thule, not yet having penetrated your understanding; Your freedom of speech, therefore, because in favor of mercy, shall not prejudice, though it might injure you were it to reach the ears of some of whom we wot. But know, Sir Christopher, that your zeal makes you unjust, and that you have defamed a God fearing Commonwealth, and one in covenant with God. Not without His guidance did we trust ourselves to a waging sea, calmed for our sake by His breath; and not without His inspiration are we building up a State, after His own divine model, which shall be the admiration of the world. The kings of the earth may rise up, and the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing; but know, Sir Christopher, that the gates of hell shall not prevail against us."
As the usually calm Winthrop concluded his prophecy, he smote the table with his hand, as if to give emphasis to his words.
"My wise, and prudent, and most valued friend," said Sir Christopher, rising and approaching the Governor, "pardon me, if with sacrilegious, though unwitting hand, I have touched the sacred ark of your faith. But I were meaner than a stock or a stone; I were duller than an insensible clod; I were worse than an idolatrous heathen or a beast, if I were unwilling to encounter any danger, even to the hazard of losing your friendship, for the sake of a man, who, at the risk of his own life, saved mine."
"I heard not of your debt before," said Winthrop.
"It was in Moldavia, on the bloody field of Choczim, where the Poles defeated the Turks. I was then but a stripling, and the impetuosity of youth, or the fiery temper of my horse, had borne me in advance of my friends, when I was surrounded by the infidels and hard bested, and my life beyond peradventure had paid the penalty of my rashness, and my bones been left cleaned by the wolf's teeth to whiten on the sand, but for this valiant soldier. Disregarding danger, he leaped among the foe, and so lustily plied his blows, that together we bore the turbans down, until his bridle-hand was struck. Then was it time to fall back, for verily we had need of both hands, with the one to guide out horses, and with the other to defend our heads. I seized his rein, and with our flashing swords, side by side, we fought our way through the throng. Judge, then, if I were not an ingrate to forget the service."
"It is a pity, for the sake of the prisoner," said Winthrop, "that either Standish or Endicott is not in my place: a tale of daring were sure to win their ears, and upon its recital, the cause were as good as gained; but much as I admire the valor of the soldier and respect your feelings, I, who was bred a lawyer, and not a warrior, see not therein a motive to grant your request."
"If friendship for me, and personal merit in the man, avail not to move you, at least listen to the voice of humanity. You intend not surely to murder him."
"What?" exclaimed Winthrop. "Speak plainer, Sir Christopher."
"I say, honored sir, that the treatment of this Joy, for an offence which can rank as a crime only by reason of some peculiarity in your situation, justifying extraordinary severity, is unworthy of you as the Vicegerent of his Majesty in this colony.
"Methinks," said Winthrop, coldly and formally, "you have already, in other phrase, said the same thing."
"But I aver now that this hapless, and, but for me, unfriended man, (alas that my influence in his behalf is less than nought,) is likely to escape the greater part of his sentence, by perishing on your hands, if not soon released from confinement."
"Is he ill?"
"Ill unto death. I fear. Surely you cannot be acquainted with the cruelties practised upon him. I have not beholden them with mine own eyes; but my knowledge is this—as soon as I heard of Philip's misfortune, in whom, why I feel an interest you now know, I hastened to his prison, and there, with some difficulty learned, that not only is he manacled, and his ancles chained, but also is confined by a band of iron around his body, to a post erected in the centre of his dungeon, so as to be unable to lie down, under a pretext of the desperation of the man and the weakness of his dungeon."
"Believe me, Sir Christopher, I knew not this; but the thing shall be looked into, and if there be no error in your information, I will venture to brave the resentment of my colleagues and the rest, and release this Joy for the present, taking such order in other respects that the remaining sentence of the Court shall not remain a nullity."
"I pray you, excellent sir, of your bounty, to be speedy in the inquiry into this matter," urged the knight, "being well assured that you will find my information verified."
"Rest satisfied with my peremptory promise," replied Winthrop. "And now, Sir Christopher, that this business which you have so much at heart is in a fair train to arrive at a result to content you, tell me something of your doings at the Mount of Promise, as it is your pleasure to call your retirement. How fares it with your kinswoman, the lady Geraldine? Time, I trust, doth blunt the edge of her melancholy."
"Alas, no! she still continues to grieve with an unreasonable grief. Time brings no balm."
"It should not be so. The sooner we become reconciled to the afflictive dispensations of Providence (under which I understand she suffers,) the better for both soul's and body's health."
"There are some natures, whereupon, when an impression is once made, it is not readily effaced, and the lady Geraldine's is such. Yet do I not despair of her restoration to tranquillity."
"I must request godly Mr. Eliot to visit her. There is no soother so effectual as the soft voice of the Gospel. But for yourself, Sir Christopher, tire you not of the monotony of your forest life?"
"So far therefrom, I love it hourly more. My early days were wild and stormy, of some particulars whereof I have possessed you; and although I have not reached my meridian, yet am I satiated with vanity. I am like a ship, whose tempest-beaten sides rest sweetly in a haven. As contentedly she hears the winds howling without, so I listen from afar to the uproar of the world, and pleased, contrast my calm therewith."
"Man was not made for inaction," said Winthrop.
"I shun no honorable labor. Instruct me how to be useful to the little State which enjoys the happiness to call you father and ruler, and no toil or danger but shall be welcome."
"You know there is but one difficulty that stands in your way to occupy the position due to both your rank and merit."
A shadow passed over the face of the knight.
"We will not speak thereof," he said. "When I offered to join the congregation, who would have thought that so trifling a difference could close your bosoms against me?"
"Call not the difference slight, nor our bosoms closed," answered Winthrop; "but I trust that further reflection, your spirit being lighted by beams of grace, will convince you that in our exposition we erred not."
At this moment a slight rustling was heard at the other end of the apartment, and the knight turning, beheld a man having the appearance of a servant advancing.
"How now, sirrah," cried Winthrop, "what means this intrusion?"
"I thought I heard the Governor call," said the man.
"I called not," said Winthrop; "but being here, bring refreshments. His presence opportunely reminds me," he added, turning to the knight, "of my breach of hospitality, occasioned by my interest in the conversation."
In a short time the servant returned bearing a silver salver, on which were placed wine and a venison pasty, (for the robuster appetites of our ancestors would have scorned more delicate viands,) which he placed on a sideboard.
Before the knight addressed himself to the pasty, which he soon did, with an appetite sharpened by his morning ride, he filled two goblets with wine, and presenting one to his host, begged to pledge him in a health to the prosperity of the infant Commonwealth.
"The building up of our Zion lies nearest my heart, and unceasingly do my prayers ascend on her behalf," answered Winthrop; "but—think me not discourteous—I may not, without sin, comply with your request in the drinking of healths."
"How!" exclaimed the knight, "is there any forbidding thereof in Holy Scripture?"
"Nay, I find no interdiction therein, but manifold cause in the reason of the thing itself for the suppressing of a vain custom. Thus do I argue: Every empty and ineffectual representation of serious things is a way of vanity. But this custom is such; for it is intended to hold forth love and wishes of health, which are serious things, by drinking, which neither in the nature nor use it is able to effect, for it is looked at as a mere compliment, and is not taken as an argument of love, which ought to be unfeigned. Or the same proposition may be proved diversely, as thus: To employ the custom, out of its natural use, without warrant of authority, necessity or conveniency, is a way of vanity. But this custom doth. Or, again; such a resolution as frees a man from frequent and needless temptations, to dissemble love, et cetera, (quatenus it doth so,) is a wholesome resolution. But this resolution doth. Ergo, Sir Christopher, pray have me (with protestation of no discourtesy) excused."
"Although your scruples appear strange, yet will I respect them, my honored host, as it becomes me to, any opinion entertained by you," replied the knight; "but if the tongue be tied, the spirit, at least, is free to indulge in wishes for your welfare."
So saying, he raised the goblet to his lips, and drained it of its contents. Nor did the Governor, though refusing to join in the idle custom of drinking healths, which, by his influence, had been pretty generally banished from the tables of the principal inhabitants, decline a draught, therein bearing in mind the advice of Paul to Timothy, and considering it an allowable solace and strengthener to enable him the better to bear the cares of state. Upon the conclusion of the interview, the knight courteously took leave, after thanking the Governor for his promise in behalf of the imprisoned soldier, and, mounting his horse, returned the way he came.
When he was gone, Winthrop fell into a fit of musing.
"What am I to think of this man?" (such was the tenor of his reflections.) "Is he what he appears? Doth the garniture of his spirit conform to the polished and attractive surface? Is he, as sometimes from his language might be surmised, one who, though young in years, is old in experience, and hath already discovered how unsatisfactory are the vanities of the world? There be such men in these strange days. And yet, how wonderfully hath he preserved his cheerfulness, and though chastened, is not cast down! That he hath been a cavalier, I plainly see, and he doth admit; that he is fit at present to be one of us, I doubt; that he will be, I hope. The jealous Dudley, the suspicious Endicott, and the subtle Spikeman, are disposed to regard him as one who, under the mask of an angel of light, doth conceal dangerous designs; as a plotter of mischief; some cunning tool of our enemies, who have sent him hither to creep into our confidence, that he may the better detect our weakness and confound our plans. I cannot harbor these latter notions. There is that about the knight which gives the lie to suspicion. Who can look upon his noble countenance and listen to the tones of his sincere voice, and not be satisfied of his truth? Did he not, on his arrival, communicate to me his views, which, however romantic, are consistent both with the training of his previous life and the change which hath been effected in his feelings? And doubtful myself, lest the gracious impression he made upon me might pervert my judgment, did I not set a watch upon his motions, and find them all to harmonize with his frank and gallant bearing? I see no cause to alter my conduct or withdraw my confidence. Yet will I be guarded in our intercourse. If I err, it shall be on the side of prudence; but this matter whereunto he hath called my attention, shall forthwith be searched. It were shame if the cruelty whereof he complains has been practised. Ah me, the eye of the ruler cannot be everywhere! There be those who already term our justice tyranny, and who would be glad to be furnished with another occasion of complaint. Nor can I conceal from myself that the sentence of the soldier is harsh. It was against both my feeling and my judgment. How often am I compelled to practise a severity over which my softer, and perhaps weaker nature, mourns!"
CHAPTER III.
"I am sorry one so learned and so wise,
As you, Lord Angelo, have still appeared,
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood
And lack of tempered judgment afterward."
Measure for Measure.
Early in the afternoon of the same day, a man whom we recognize as the servant we saw at the Governor's house, entered a building which stood not far from the margin of the bay. It belonged to the Assistant Spikeman, and it was he whom the man sought. The Assistant was found sitting before his ledger, whose pages were open, and surrounded by the articles of his traffic, for he was a merchant, largely engaged in the purchase and sale of the products of the country, from which he had drawn substantial gains. Quintals of dried fish were piled up in one part of the store-room, in another, bundles of furs procured from the Indians, in a third, casks and barrels containing spirituous liquors, and elsewhere were stored cloths of various descriptions, and hardware, and staves and hoops, and, in short, almost everything necessary to prosecute a trade between the old country and the new.
The Assistant raised his head at the noise made by the entrance of the man, and passing his fingers through the short, thick red hair that garnished his head, demanded, "What new thing bringest thou, Ephraim?"
"There has been," answered the man, "him whom they call the Knight of the Golden Melice, though I know not what it means, with the Governor this morning, and according to your wishes, I have come to acquaint you therewith."
"Thou hast well done, and thy zeal in the service of the Commonwealth and of the congregation merits and shall have reward. What passages passed between them?"
"I heard only part of the conversation, but enough to make me believe that the Governor, at the prayer of the strange knight, means to release the soldier Philip Joy."
"Verily!" exclaimed Spikeman. "Art sure you heard aright? Rehearse to me what was said."
The spy employed by the Assistant to be a watch upon the conduct of Winthrop, here went into a detail of his discoveries, to all which the other listened with fixed attention.
When the man had concluded his narration, which was interlarded with protestations of pious zeal, the Assistant said:
"I do commend thee greatly, Ephraim, for thy sagacity, and the promptitude wherewith thou hast made me acquainted with these matters. Not that thou or I have any more interest in this thing than other godly men who have fled from the persecution of the priests of Baal, to worship the God of our fathers in the wilderness according to the promptings of our own conscience, but it doth become every one to keep his lamp trimmed and burning, and to watch, lest the lion leap into the fold. I misdoubt me much, that this same Sir Christopher Gardiner, as he calls himself, or this Knight of the Golden Melice, as some have it, meaning thereby, doubtless, malice, is no better than some emissary of Satan, unto which opinion his interposing for this blaspheming Joy doth strongly incline me. Therefore, good Ephraim, keep thou thine eyes upon him, and shouldest thou be the instrument elected by Providence to bring his wicked devices to light, great will be thy praise and reward."
Having thus spoken, Spikeman waved his hand and turned away, to intimate that the conference was at an end, but the man remained standing.
"Wherefore do you delay? You may retire," said Spikeman. "I bethink me that but a little time remains for preparation for the afternoon lecture."
"Is not the laborer worthy of his hire?" inquired Ephraim. "Shall they who work in the Lord's vineyard receive no wage?"
"My mind ran not on the perishable riches of this world," answered the Assistant, pulling out, with a very ill grace, a well filled leathern purse, and taking from it a silver piece, which he offered to the servant, but the fellow had caught sight of gold, and was not so easily to be satisfied.
"Is thy servant a dog?" he demanded. "The princely Governor would give me gold for information of less value."
"Take two," replied Spikeman, holding out another, "and be content. Reflect that you are one of the congregation, and have an equal part in this inheritance with myself."
"I think not," said Ephraim, looking around the well-filled store-house. "Is that a proper wage, your worship," he added, glancing disdainfully at the money, "to offer one, who, on your account, risks the slitting of his nose, and cutting off of his ears? Make the white yellow and it will not be too much."
"Would that I had the treasures of Ophir for thy sake," exclaimed Spikeman; "but I am a ruined man if thou require so much, Ephraim Pike. But there, take the Carolus, and let it be an incentive to godly action."
Ephraim received the gold piece, and his features relaxed into something like a smile.
"Truly," said he, "did David, the man after God's heart, speak by inspiration when he declared—'Never saw I the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging bread.'"
Spikeman made no reply, and the man having attained his object, and observing the other's desire to be rid of him, withdrew.
The countenance of the Assistant expressed chagrin and displeasure as he looked after the retiring form of the serving-man; but presently he buried his face in his hands, leaning his elbows on the tall writing-table that stood before him. In this attitude he remained some little time, and when he removed them, the expression of his face was changed, and his mind evidently filled with other thoughts. The look of vexation had been succeeded by one it is difficult to describe—a kind of smile played around his lips, his eyes sparkled, his color was heightened, and a slight moisture exuded from the corners of his mouth—he was uglier and more repulsive than before. He bent over, and on a piece of paper which lay before him, wrote with a hand that trembled a little—"How fair and how pleasant, art thou O love, for delights." This sentence he scrawled several times, and then taking up the piece of paper, he tore it into small fragments, and scattered them on the floor, after which, composing his face into an austere seeming, he placed his high steeple-crowned hat on his head, and, leaving the building, proceeded in the direction of his dwelling-house. As he advanced leisurely along, he soon heard the sound of a drum beaten through the streets, to summon the people to one of those weekly lectures, in which spiritual instruction was not unfrequently leavened with worldly wisdom and directions for political conduct.
Meetings for religious lecture, on week days, were exceedingly common, and held in high favor; indeed, so attractive were they, that in the language of an old historian, an actor on the spot—"Many poor persons would usually resort to two or three in the week, to the great neglect of their affairs and the damage of the public." To these, the people were summoned by beat of drum, the martial roll of which instrument called them also to muster for defence, upon a hostile alarm, a different tattoo being adopted for the latter purpose. An attempt was at one time made by the magistrates to diminish the frequency of these meetings, as a serious inroad upon the industry of the colony; but the effort was resisted, and that successfully, by the elders, "alleging their tenderness of the church's liberty, as if such a precedent might enthrall them to the civil power, and as if it would cast a blemish upon the elders, which would remain to posterity; that they should need to be regulated by the civil magistrate, and also raise an ill savor of the people's coldness, that would complain of much preaching, &c, whereas liberty for the ordinances was the main end professed of our coming hither." They were social beings, and loved stimulus like the rest of mankind, and had no public amusements. These causes are sufficient to account for the fondness for the weekly lecture; but if to them be superadded the peculiarity of their civil and religious polity, which inculcated an extraordinary affection for each other as God's chosen people destined to communion, not here only, but forever; and the isolation of their situation, cutting them off from participation in the stirring events to which they had been accustomed, we should wonder if they had not met frequently together. The elders, jealous of their influence, showed in this instance, as they did in others, a knowledge of human nature, superior to that of the magistrates, and the latter were glad to retreat from the position they had taken, "lest the people should break their bonds through abuse of liberty," if the wholesome restraint exerted by the elders, by means of the lectures, in order to retain the people in subjection to the civil power, should be withdrawn.
As the Assistant walked on, he began to meet persons coming out of their houses, in obedience to the invitation. There was the staid citizen, whose sobriety bordered on sternness, with hair closely cropped to avoid the "unloveliness of love-locks," covered with a large flapped peaked hat, and arrayed in broad white band and sad-colored garments, on whose arm leaned his wife, or walked independently at his side, bearing on her head a hat of similar shape to her husband's, or else having it protected with hood, or cap, or coif; a white vandyke neckerchief falling over the shoulders, and rising high in the neck; long-waisted bodice of velvet or silk, open in front, and laced down to a point, on which was placed a rosette, with voluminous fardingale of like material, gathered up in folds behind, and supplying, though with more modesty and less bad taste, the place of the more modern "bishop," now happily banished these regions. Behind came the sons and daughters, attired like their parents, and imitating them in gravity of demeanor. There were also some indented apprentices and serving men and serving women, whom either the zeal of their masters and mistresses required, or their own tastes or ideas of duty induced to be present, while here and there, at the corners of the streets, might be seen an occasional Indian, with bow in hand, listening with admiration to the marvellous music of the blood-stirring instrument, and gazing with feelings compounded of fear and envy at the strange people gathering together to a talk with the Great Spirit.
The Assistant Spikeman, as he passed the wayfarers, returned their demure salutations with solemn dignity, as became one in high station, and in whose ears was sounding a call to a meeting of the congregation. Thus exchanging greetings, he proceeded to his house, where, entering the room used by the family as a sitting apartment, he hung up his hat and took a seat. But his agitation did not permit him to remain still, and almost immediately he arose and began to pace the floor. Hearing presently advancing footsteps, he dropped into a chair, and leaning back and shutting his eyes, assumed an expression of pain and lassitude. In a moment the door of the room was opened, and a comely woman of middle age entered, dressed for the "meeting."
"Dear heart," she exclaimed, "here have Eveline and I been waiting for thee this quarter of an hour. You must not, if you are so late, complain of me hereafter, when the lacet of my bodice troubles me, or the plaits of my hair refuse to keep their place, and so I delay thee unreasonably, as thou sayest, though it is all to honor thee; for would it not be unbeseeming for the help-meet of a worshipful Assistant to appear like a common mechanic's wife? But art thou ill?" she added, observing his air of dejection, and instantly changing the tone that had in it something of reproach into one of anxiety; "then will I remain at home to comfort thee."
"No, dame," said her husband, "there is no cause to detain thee from the sanctuary. The godly Mr. Cotton holds forth to-day, and it would be a sinful neglect of privileges. I feel not well myself, and must, therefore, for thy sake, as well as my own, deny myself the refreshment of the good man's counsel. Thou shalt go, to edify me on thy return with what thou mayest remember of his discourse."
But the kind heart of dame Spikeman was not so easily to be diverted from its purpose, and she persisted, with some pertinacity, in a determination to remain, until her husband laid his commands upon her to attend the lecture.
"I will obey," she then said, "sithence it is thy wish; and is it not written, Adam was first made, and then Eve; and I will pray for thee, dear heart, in the congregation, that He will keep thee in all thy ways, nor let the enemy approach to harm or to tempt thee."
Spikeman winced, and perhaps his conscience pricked him at the moment, but he betrayed no confusion as he replied:
"I thank thee, sweet duck, and may the Lord recompense thy love a thousand fold. But hasten, now, for it would ill-become the wife of my bosom to lag in attendance on the lecture. Meanwhile, I will meditate on the holy volume, and comfort myself as a Christian man may."
Dame Spikeman's ample fardingale swept the sides of the doorway as she turned to take a last look at her husband over her shoulder—a look that contained as much of suspicion as of affection. He must be, indeed, a paragon of hypocrisy who can conceal himself from his wife, however dull she may be, and the faculties of the dame were as sharp as those of most of her sex.
Presently she was heard calling, "Eveline; why, Eveline, art not ready yet?" to which a sweet voice responded, "here am I, dame," succeeded by the pattering of quick, light feet, and a young woman, veiled, glided to her side, and they left the house together, accompanied by a servant. Spikeman gazed after them through the window, which, as belonging to a house of the better class, was made of glass instead of oiled paper, which supplied its place in the humbler tenements, till they were out of sight. The drum had some time before ceased its sonorous rattle, indicating thereby that the services had commenced, and the streets were bare of the last loiterer. Spikeman then resumed his seat, listening and glancing occasionally at the door, as if he was expecting some one to enter. At last, as if tired of waiting, he rose, and going to the door, called softly, "Prudence." No answer was returned, and in tones a little raised he called again. This time a voice replied, "I am coming, your worship," and the Assistant returned to his seat. Perhaps five minutes longer passed, and he was becoming more impatient, and had risen from his chair, when a young woman in the dress of an upper domestic, or lady's maid, entered the room. She was apparently twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, large and plump, and glowing with health, and altogether of a most attractive appearance. Her complexion was brilliant, brighter on account of the contrast with the white tunic which fell over her peach-blossom colored fustian skirt, and her eyes, which were cast down when she came into the room, disclosed hazel pupils as she raised them, and looked red, as if she had been weeping.
"I have remained behind, according to thy desire," said the Assistant, advancing toward her, "for there is nothing I would not do to pleasure thee, Prudence."
"I know not that I requested you to tarry," answered the girl; "but an I remember right, you said you had some tidings of Philip Joy which you did wish to communicate to my private ear."
"Something have I to tell thee of the poor varlet," said Spikeman; "but first would I rather speak of one who doth interest me more. But say, why is thy mind so careworn about this soldier?"
"He is a friend of mine," said Prudence, blushing; "that is, we were neighbors, and acquainted in dear old England—a cousin," she added, telling naturally a little fib, "and so I am sorry to hear of his misfortune."
"I hope that you do not long after the flesh-pots of Egypt," said Spikeman, attempting to take her hand, which, however, she coyishly withdrew. "What have we to do with England or her cramping ordinances, which we have turned our backs upon forever? Was it not because of the yoke she sought to put upon our necks that we abandoned her, here to enjoy a wider liberty? Believe me, beautiful Prudence, there are delights scattered all over the world, if there be only boldness and wisdom to find them; nor is their enjoyment inconsistent with the joys promised hereafter, whereof, indeed, they are the foretaste."
"O, sir," exclaimed the girl, "can you tell me anything about Philip? Have you entreated the Governor, as you promised, to let him out of that dreadful dungeon?"
"It is a horrid place," said Spikeman, "and men live not long who are confined therein. If the soldier be imprisoned there a few days longer, he is no better than a dead man. Vain has been my intercession, though I despair not."
He paused to watch the effect of what he had said upon the girl. She turned deadly pale, and seemed about to sink upon the floor. Spikeman took her hand, which she no longer withdrew, but yielded passively, as if in a state of stupefaction, and pressing it within his own, led her to a sofa.
"Lovely Prudence," he said, "thou hast found favor in my eyes. Let not the distance betwixt us overawe thee. These worldly distinctions are but the inventions of men to suit a purpose, and there are times when they are more easily torn away than the withes of the Philistines on the hands of Samson. Dost thou comprehend me?"
Prudence raised her eyes, and fixed them with a bewildered stare upon his face. She was so terrified at the thought of the danger to which the soldier was exposed, and her mind so confused by the unusual language of her master, that she was as much in a dreaming as a waking state. Her lips quivered as she attempted to reply, but they made no sound, and tears began to steal down.
"Would that I could stop the current of these tears, more precious than orient pearls," sighed Spikeman. "Ask of me any other favor, and I will move heaven and earth but it shall be granted."
"O, sir, said Prudence," sliding off from the sofa in spite of his efforts to prevent her, and kneeling at his feet, "I have no other favor to ask; but if you are truly willing to show kindness to a poor girl like me, take Philip out of prison."
"But is it so light a thing to be done, sweet Prudence?" replied Spikeman, raising her in his arms, and straining her to his bosom before he replaced her on the sofa. "Nay, kneel not again," he added, seeing that she was about to resume her attitude of supplication; "that were a posture as fitting for me as for thee."
"O, sir," cried poor Prudence, "you are a great man, and can do whatever you please. If you speak to the Governor again, he will let Philip out. I am sure he meant nothing wrong. I am certain they told wicked lies about him."
"Truly will I remonstrate again," said Spikeman. "So great is my regard for thee, I will risk losing his favor for thy sake. But for all the sacrifices I make, what shall be thy return to me?"
"I will pray night and day for you; I will be your slave; I will worship the ground on which you tread."
"Sweet maiden," said Spikeman, passing his arm around her waist, "I ask not so much. I ask thee only to be happy with me. Thy prayers, though rising like morning incense, I need not. I would rather be thy slave than have thee mine, and I worship thee already. Turn not away thy cheek, but let me greet thee with the kiss of charity."
The girl averted not her glowing cheek, whereon, with these words, he imprinted a passionate kiss, which he attempted to repeat, but Prudence drew a little back, and removed his arm. His lips burned like fire. She felt as if they had left behind a mark to betray her, and she shuddered with aversion; but she believed the fate of the soldier to be in his hands, and dared not to offend him. Besides, she was no delicate lady, but strong and full of confidence, and feared no danger to herself. As she marked his heightened color and kindling eyes, and he made another attempt to salute her, she said, with half a disposition to cry and half to laugh:
"Is not kissing and toying forbid by the elders and worshipful magistrates?"
"They are forbid to them outside of the congregation, and who have no Christian liberty," answered Spikeman—"to them who make a display of what should be concealed, to avoid the scandal of the wicked; but not to the elect and discreet, who can use their liberty as not abusing it. Therefore, let me kiss thee with the kisses of my mouth, for thy love is better than wine. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair," he continued, pressing upon her; "thou hast dove's eyes within thy locks. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet."
"Hark!" cried Prudence, pushing him back, "I hear a noise." "I hear no sound," said Spikeman, after listening for a moment, "save the voice of my beloved. O, speak, and say unto me, 'rise up, my love, and come away, for lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land,'"
So saying, he caught her in his arms, and giving license to his fiery passions, stamped repeated kisses upon her lips and bosom, in spite of her struggles. But the sounds which the quick ears of Prudence had detected became more and more distinct, and persons on foot and on horseback were seen in the street returning from the lecture. Without difficulty she broke from the now yielding arms of Spikeman, and had just time to compose her disordered hair and tunic, when the voice of the dame at the door was heard demanding admission.
CHAPTER IV.
