Judged by Appearances. A tale of the Civil Wars

Front matter

JUDGED BY APPEARANCES A TALE OF THE CIVIL WARS PA' ELEANOE LLOYD Author of " Valeria, a Story of Venice," " The Langdalf.. o_ Langdale En*d." The firmest thing on earth is a believing soul." — Leighton. LONDON : LONDON LITERARY SOCIETY 37G, STRAND DEDICATED TO .Bfloraiia JKatljmttf ~JS{x&nas <§>atlij, IN REMEMBRANCE OF A LONG AND UNBROKEN FRIENDSHIP. E. Ll. TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE i.— My Childhood 1 ii. — First Glimpse of the Great World— King and Commons — New Acquaintances 5 in. — Tears and Resolutions — My New Home — My Puritan Aunt 10 iv. —Quiet Life— The First Storm— My Curiosity is Baffled 20 v. — Joyce Mallory — Sermons— Petitions 28 vi.— The " M ell " Supper— " Where's t'other One ? "— A Dull Thing to be a Puritan 3_ vil. — My Uncle Nigel — Discontent — Attack from the Rebels — Christmas Cheer 41 vm. — The Castle Chaplain — Master Arundel's Adventures — Margery Mar-prelate 47 ix. — Aunt Dorothy meets a Friend — We visit Lady Mallory — Questions and Contradictions 55 x. — A Strange Sight— Tale Bearing— My Aunt braves a Storm 66 xi. — I Drink what I have Brewed— The Oriel Room ... 78 xii. — An Examination in Form — Aunt Dorothy keeps her own Counsel — A Warning — A Bit of Blue Speedwell VI TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE xiii. — Melancholy Days— Sunday Morning — My Confessions —The Great Gulf of Separation 92 xiv. — Conjectures— Adwalton Moor— My Aunt's Captivity —Lady Mallory' s Efforts 98 xv. — Nanny Arrowsmith — Mob Violence — We Attempt a Rescue and are Rescued 105 xvi. — The Arrowsmiths — Aunt Dorothy's Revelations — A Love Token ...

Ill xvn. — Loyalists and Rebels — " Who is Guy Fairfax ? " — My Father's Warnings 120 xvm. — Sickness — " Semper Eadem " — My Grandfather Visits a Sick Bed— The Shadow of Death 127 xrx. — Master Arundel's Suggestions— Mistress Pritchard— Readiness for Death — " God can make up for all " — A Prayer-meeting 134 xx.— The Trail of the Serpent— Recovery—" Who will win ?

" 143 xxi. — Differences with Sir John — The Northern Lights — A Nocturnal Visitor 148 xxii.— The Old Well— A Wild Winter— Home Truths ... 153 xxiii. — Aunt Dorothy's Story 158 xxiv.— The Tale Concluded— The Straight Way is the Best- Submission ... ' 173 xxv. — My Grandfather's Religion — Nanny Arrowsmith's Communications 180 xxvi. — Goring's Troopers — Prince Rupert — Master L'Estrange — Injurious Reports— Sly Aunt Faces SirJohn 186 xxvii. — The Secret Chamber — My Aunt and Grandfather — Nigel's Letter— A Strange Plot — Friends or Foes ? 197 xxvm.— A Long Walk— Meditations by the Wayside—" If not?" — Mistress Wardman Gives us a Clue — Nanny's Vision 208 xxix. — First News of Battle — Fugitives — Marston Moor — Major Fairfax— Captain A Meeting in the Thick of the Fight TABLE OF CONTENTS VII CHAP- PAGE xxx.— Dark Prospects— Our Guest— A Roundhead Uncle- Jests which Cut Deep — Aunt Dorothy Broaches a Forbidden Subject 226 xxxi. — Quarrels — Tom Arrowsmith turns Restive — Master L'Estrange finds New Friends — Myself and My Thoughts 237 xxxii.— All Hallows' Eve— An Old Friend— Joyce Pays a Midnight Visit 245 xxxiii.— All Saints' Day— Two of us by the Sundial— Arthur attempts to Solve a Mystery 254 xxxiv. — Left 'Alone — Master Vavasour's Influence — Naseby Fight — The Secret of Happiness— Sir John surrenders — Dark Days — My Grandfather's illness ... 261 xxxv. — We Welcome a Friend — Exchange of News — Change of Mind— The Prodigal Son 269 xxxvi. — Anxieties — Arthur's Midnight Visit — Suspicions — Master Vavasour takes a Journey 275 xXxvii. — An Unexpected Arrival— My Aunt and I as Suitors to a Great Man — News — Arthur leaves a Charge Behind Him 283 xxxvin. — Invaders — An Unwelcome Recognition — AuntDorothy in Peril — Deliverance 293 xxxix.— Sir Richard's End— Nanny's Dirge— "He is Come " 303 xl.— Master Arundel's Revenge— The Witness of the Dead — Aunt Dorothy Writes a Letter 309 xli. — Laid to Rest — A Friend in Need — Were They Reconciled? — Curiosity not Sympathy 3.15 xlii. — Uncle and Nephew — Patient Waiting — Arthur's .

Chapter I

" This rock, and these demesnes have been my world Where I have lived at honest freedom." — Shakespeare — Cymbeline. I have of late been reading, with much painful care, some of my old diaries, and from their pages, as well as from mine own memory, have I noted down something of the history of my early life in the years which I spent with my aunt and my grandfather. It pleases me to recall those times, and I have too an especial interest in re cording them. ISTow that all is over and done, I would not that it should be forgotten. My maiden name was Alethea Wandesford. My father was the eldest son of Sir Eichard Wandesford, a gentle man of ancient family, but of slender means. He married a Fairfax ; a lady to whom fell by inheritance the old Hall at Skipton, and of kin to that Lord Fairfax who com manded the Parliamentary forces in the late struggle.

My grandfather was much engaged in the foreign wars, and fought with honour in Germany and the Low countries. My father's youth was passed in Holland ; but in later years, after the birth of her younger children, my grand mother lived at Skipton, and busied herself with their education, while my father followed Sir Richard's fortunes. This separation from her husband, as well as her relation ship to a Puritan family, caused my grandmother to take up with the views of that precise faction, and bring up B JUDGED BT APPEARANCES. her younger children therein ; whereas, my father was in structed in the true doctrine of the Church of England, of which he hath ever proved himself a loyal follower; yet were he and my grandfather so unlike in disposition, that I oft wonder at the love aud confidence there was between them.

But it may have been from that very cause that they agreed so well, their differing characters fitting into each other, while those that were more alike, only met to be crossed, and vexed, and misunderstood. My mother was a Vavasour, and during her lifetime, my father lived in Yorkshire, and passed, as he has often told me, most happy years. When her lamented death took place — the first sorrow of my life, though at the time hardly understood — he kept me with him for a year or so, and theu finding his home strangely dreary, and the King's service seeming to call for the aid of all loyal men, he joined the forces which were sent against the Scots, and provided for me in the house of my mother's cousin, the vicar of Shirecliffe, in the county of York. His own mother was by this time dead, and his home broken up ; my aunt living with Sir Christopher Wandesford in Dublin ; my grandfather still in the Low countries.

I will not dwell on those years which I passed at Shire clitfe, albeit, to Mr. Vavasour's kindly instruction, and to the care of his wife, I ever stand indebted. There I grew in health and strength, happy with their young family, though being older than any of their children, I somewhat needed better companionship ; happy also, in the kindly and motherly care of Mistress Vavasour, who yet was not Hke mine own mother, and who, in allowing me much of mine own way, did not, indeed, treat me with the truest kindness ; happiest of all, when my father, from time to time came to visit us, and I could walk with him, talk to him, and listen whilst he and Master Vavasour spoke of the evils which threatened the State, and the ever-growing wickedness of the times. There I learnt to understand that spirit of loyalty which was ready to sacrifice its all to the service of our king ; to deplore and resent the fac tious spirit which attacked first the noble Earl of Strafford, then the good Archbishop, whose failings and faults (for they were but mortals), were ever magnified into crimes by the malignity of their accusers.

There I saw in the beautiful church which Mr. Vavasour had ordered, and which he served, the rites of tbe Church of England per formed with reverent devotion ; and as I looked on the oak carving, the lofty arches, the fine colours in the glass windows, I felt my heart rise indignant against the sour and hypocritical faction that would destroy so noble a building, and give us only the noisy shoutings of fanatic preachers, instead of the sober and dignified ritual which had been handed down to us from our fathers. It was after the Court had removed to York in the year 16-12, that Mrs. Vavasour told me, with tears in her eyes, that my father wished to remove me from her care. We lived not far from the great highway to the north, and nigh to a town where violent and furious men abode, and he deemed it safer to place me with his father and sister, whose home was in a more remote part of the country, and with whom he desiied me to become acquainted; for my grandfather had returned some time before this to his native land, an old and broken man, and was now living with his daughter at the Hall at Skipton.

Mistress Vavasour also told me that my mind was now well instructed, and my knowledge of right and wrong assured, and that though I might have to dwell with one who had unfortunately embraced those Puritan tenets which were bringing the land into this terrible disorder, she felt assured that I should be able to resist any evil influences, and would preserve, unsullied, my fealty to the Church and the King. Sir Richard himself was a valiant and loyal gentleman, and she feared that he had suffered great trouble from the poisonous doctrine instilled into his children by their mother. My father was, fortunately, free from it, but my aunt and my uncle Nigel, had been less happily circum stanced. This last-named had brought, she knew not how, great distress on his father and brother, and was never spoken of, indeed she believed him to be dead.

My grandfather's house was in a loyal town, where the noble APPEAEANCES. Earl of Cumberland had his seat, and there my father hoped we should be safe from danger, and that I mi«ht abide with my kinsfolk, happy and well cared for, until this tyranny should be overpast. When I heard all this I sat down and thought deeply. The children were playing about in the garden, the birds twittering, the sun shining on the peaceful home which I was to leave so soon. I looked round on the hawthorn bushes, which were white with blossom, and upon the trees which overhung both our garden and the churchyard, and I felt as if a heavy shadow were creeping slowly on and would soon throw its dark cloak over me. The sounds of childish mirth rang in my ears, but I heeded them not, and turned my steps to the churchyard, and then seeing the church door open, I entered and sat down in my favourite place, in one of the old oak stalls just behind the great rood screen.

There in the solemn silence I looked round at the well-known walls, the gorgeous windows through which the sunshine now poured, casting a coloured light upon the flagstones of the floor, and the old monastic desks, whereon were chained some five or six large tomes which a learned and pious vicar in Queen Elizabeth's days had bequeathed for the instruction of all who would read them. How often on Sundays, when the prayers seemed long, had I leaned my arms on those desks and gazed at the quaint little figures of the finials, the three Wise Men, St. Catherine, and the Blessed Virgin with the Child, towards whom all the faces turned. And now I was about to leave them all ! Should I ever see them again ? or ever hear the Te Deum which Master Vavasour would certainly sing were the King to go to his home in triumph, and Mr. Pym grace the scaffold to which he had despatched a better man than himself ?

Or would some profane Presby terian or vile Brownist dash out those windows and break down that carved work as in the days when the monasteries were destroyed ? And I was going to live with my Puritan aunt ! a sour, precise, fanatical woman ; but I vowed that nothing that she could do or say should cause me to quit my allegiance, or to do dishonour to that Church of England who knew how to house herself so beautifully. How was it possible that the untaught ravings of a village cobbler, or even the long-winded discourse of a black gowned Geneva minister, could be as pleasing to God or man as the reverent, and seemly order of a fitly-ordained and rightly-commissioned priest, using the words of prayer which our fathers had used, and worshipping in a house built as nobly as man could build ? For myself, I resolved that not for all the aunts in Christendom would I ever love the Puritans, or follow their Roundhead ways.

So thought I, and so, strong in mine own enthusiasm, I prepared for the journey. Alas ! my heart sank within me when I left the kind home, and the dear children with whom I had lived so long. Mr. Vavasour gave me his blessing, and Mistress Vavasour kissed me with tears. I wept, too, in spite of the kindly words of the old servant who had perceived my sorrow. "Nivver tak' on," she said, "ye're going to yer ain kindred, and come what may, blood's thicker than water." But I did not tell her what afflicted me most, and that was the thought of my Puritan aunt.

Chapter II

1st Citizen. " Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him." 2nd Citizen. "We may, sir, if we will." — Shakespeare — Coriolanus. My father came for me, and I rode on horseback with him behind one of his serving-men. We passed through the woodlands and the fields of a fair country-side. My father pointed out to me the towers of Wentworth Woodhouse, now so sadly desolate, and other castles, and villages and country seats did he show me as we passed along. We lay that night at a stately hall where abode one of his kinsfolk, Madam L'Estrange. I grieve to think how little I recall of that visit. I was sorely tired, and glad to go to rest, so that I have but a dim remembrance of the great hall where we supped ; the silver that adorned the table, the multitude of serving-men, the handsome youth who carved at the board, and spoke to me once or twice with merry courtesy, the tall and graceful figure of his mother, and his fair little sisters.

I heard my father offer his com panionship and escort by the way, for, as he told me after wards, this same youth was about to take service in the troop of six hundred young gentlemen which Yorkshire had raised for the body-guard of the Prince of Wales ; but his mother desired to keep him for a day or two longer, and we started in the early morning without the company of Mr. Arthur L'Estrange. As we drew near to York, we met with many riders besides ourselves : some gentry and some yeomen, singly and in companies, but all journeying towards the city. I learned that the freeholders of the county were assem bling themselves together, and had appointed to meet on Heworth Moor, outside the walls of York, and there to draw up a petition of grievances to His Majesty. My father desired to be present at the meeting, so we pressed on, and reached York after it was dark.

The morning was fair, and we followed in the throng of people whose steps were turned towards Heworth. The moor is a wide open common fit for a large company of people ; and thither through Monk Bar, and across the Foss Bridge came the King's Majesty, sumptuously attired, and with a broad hat and white feather overshadowing his saddened face. He sat his horse with dignity, and bore himself like a princely gentleman ; his brown hair flowing over his rich lace collar, and his quick eyes glancing round upon the assembled throng. And when the pecple shouted aloud to greet him, and he bowed his thanks to them, I felt that I too could live and die for him. I even forgot Lord Stratford, and cried from the bottom of my heart, " God save King Charles ! " Beside and around him were the flower of English chivalry ; lords and gentlemen in bright array, and all the bravery of war and of the Court flashed at once before my eyes.

My father pointed out to me one or two of the leading gentry whom he knew, but as we passed on to the moor, we saw a very different-looking company gathered together Many thousands were there assembled, grave and stalwart men, clothed for the most part in dark, homespun cloth, amongst whom our brilliant cavaliers were as the sunshine when it strikes the landscape tlirough the rifts of a dark thundercloud. Some were of gentle birth, others stout yeomen and farmers. My father bade me observe them. " Look at them well," he said, " for many of them are the Parliament men, and you may see then what metal we may have to deal with." " What brings them here, father ? " I asked, " and what are they going to do ? " " They make complaint that they have not been con sulted over the late matters, that the lords and gentry of the county who have gathered to the king, have spoken for them without their warrant, and they are minded to present a petition of grievances.

They say His Majesty will not receive it. I trust it may not be so." " But they seem to be a set of Puritanical Roundheads," I said. " May be so. and yet better as friends than as foes," he replied. We found some difficulty in keeping together in the throng of people that rushed past us and pressed forward towards the king. There was some confusion, much moving hither and thither of men and horses, then the trumpet sounded, and there were shouts for order. What was said by the King's herald I could scarce hear, but the printed copies of His Majesty's address were received with no signs of welcome. The cry " God bless the King," was joined with others : " God unite the King and Parliament !" " God turn the King's heart ! " Small wonder that His Majesty touched his horse and passed to another part of the field.

" He refuses to receive the petition," said a gentleman who rode up to my father with a hearty greeting. " I fear His Majesty is but ill-advised, Sir John," was the reply. " A set of Puritanical dogs," answered Sir John, who was a pleasant-looking man, and of good carriage, seemingly in the prime of life. " My Lord Savile hath had some contention with Sir John Bouchier about it. I hear he hath seized the paper out of his hand and torn it in two. Nay, but they are determined to have it though," he continued, rising in his stirrups and looking over the heads of the crowd, for he was tall of stature and so managed to see more than we. " Tom Fairfax has taken the matter in hand, it seems. Curse those Fairfaxes for a precise and mischievous crew. I ask pardon, Wandesford. I forgot that you were of kin to them."

" I lament their principles, though I esteem their character ; " replied my father somewhat dryly. Sir John paused, and we watched and listened eagerly. " The king cuts him short," he said. " Good heavens ! he has nearly ridden him down." There was a cry and then a shout, taken up at once on all sides, " Well done, Tom Fairfax." " He has thrust it into the king's hand, on to his very saddle-bow," said my father ; " they are not men to be baffled. Well, come what will, they make themselves heard, which is more than the king's majesty can do." " Ay, we shall have some tough fellows to deal with," observed Sir John. " How think you, Wandesford, as to the men whom the king's commission of array will bring us in ? A loyal landlord will command the services of his tenants in all cases, but this meeting does not look well as regards the freeholders."

" I fear we shall not draw them," answered my father ; " unless the matter should touch them more nearly than it does at present. They will not willingly leave hearth and home for either King or Parliament. They will return to their own houses, grumble sorely, and curse those who disturb the peace of the nation, never thinking that by timely action they might have reduced these factious spirits and saved the realm. But why ask of me, you have more knowledge of the country than I ? " "Ah, at Skipton we heed neither King nor Parlia ment," quoth Sir John. " The Earl of Cumberland is our master, and where he goes we follow, as a rule. I will not say we are free from the pest of Puritanism." "I ride there in a day or two, all being well," said my father. " Shall I be so happy as to have your company ?

" " Not yet, not yet," replied the other, " it will be another fortnight, I think, before I return to my mountains to hold that little castle against all comers. But why do you go there at this time ? Sir Richard is well, I trust ? " "I take my daughter," was the reply, "to place her under the care of my father and my sister. Alethea, this is Sir John Mallory, governor of Skipton Castle, a kind friend of your grandfather and your aunt." " I greet you well, Mistress Alethea," said Sir John pleasantly. " I trust we shall become better acquainted. I have a daughter about your age, if I guess right, who will welcome you gladly as a playmate." We rode back together towards the town, and I heard Sir John amongst other matters, observe that his chaplain, a very able man, was charged with tbe education of his eldest daughter, and that if my father liked it, I could share her lessons, which, as he said, might be well pleasing to both maidens.

My father gave, however, an uncertain answer, and while thanking Sir John for the offer, remarked that his sister would in all likelihood charge herself with my teaching, and that he would talk it over with her before deciding. "You are not afraid, then?" asked Sir John, with a smile. " No," rephed my father, " I think there is no danger." " Mistress Dorothy Wandesford is a very charming lady," said Sir John, with a shake of his head ; " but, pardon me, Wandesford, tant soit peu fanatique." Whether my father observed this saying I know not. He had for some time been looking restlessly among the crowd as if in search of one especial face, and now appeared to have caught sight of the person he sought, for he checked his horse, and exclaiming : " The very man I was seeking ; pardon me if I leave you for a moment," he made his way through the throng, and, accosting a gentleman whose plain array bespoke him to be of the Roundhead faction, exchanged a few brief words with him, and then slowly wended his way back again.

AI any times in after years did 1 strive to recall the appearance of that stranger, but I could recollect little but a tall and well-formed person, and a fair complexion under the wide-brimmed hat. Sir John Mallory looked a little surprised, but made no comment, and we rode together into the town.

Chapter III

Sir Toby. " Possess us, possess ua ; tell us something of him." Maria. " Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan." Sir Andrew. " Oh, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog." Twelfth Night, Act ii. s. 3. Our stay in York was somewhat tedious to me. I saw little of my father, and though I sat at the window and watched the stirrings in the street, diverting myself as best I could, the hours passed but slowly, and I was beholden to the good dame with whom we lodged for taking me out with her to the market, and also to see the minster, the bridge, and the Manor House where abode the king. Could I always have gone about in this city, the second in the kingdom, and now almost as gay and busy as London itself, seeing that the king held court there, I had been mightily well pleased and satisfied ; but that could not be, and the days seemed long to me.

Yet when we set forth again I felt almost sorry, for we seemed to be quitting the world, and journeying far away from all the brightness and stir of life, into a strange and mountainous country, where in a little while I should be left alone. My heart sank at every step we took. As we lost sight of the minster towers, and bent our way over the great plain which lay to the westward, I felt sorely inclined to weep. We crossed Hessay or Marston Moor, afterwards so fatally renowned ; we rode by through fields of young wheat, and meadows golden with buttercups, and then passed the river Nidd, the woods of Allerton rose on our right, and in the afternoon we reached Knaresborough. It was a strangely built town, and yet it was beautiful, with a great church that reminded me of Shirecliffe, houses climbing up the steep hillside, the quiet river flowing at their feet, and above them all the Castle, its strong walls crowning the cliffs, and its majestic keep seeming to defy all assailants.

My father took me up to it, and had a long talk with the lieutenant, afterwards showing me the noble banqueting hall where king Richard had feasted, and taking me on to the battlements, from whence he pointed out the distant western hills, and told me that there lay my future home. I clung to him in silence, and was glad when we came down, and had got back to the inn where we could sit together in the chimney-corner, and there was no one near to disturb us. I put my hand in his and leaned against him, for my heart was too full to speak. " To-morrow we shall sleep in Skipton," he said, " and in the place which will be your home, Alethea, until times mend, aud you and I find one for ourselves. My child, I trust that this will be a happy home to you." "It would be so if you were going to be there," I whispered.

" Ah, that cannot be, " he replied ; " but if you are well and happy, it will go far to make me so." " Do you think, father, that I shall be happy there ? " I murmured with hesitation. " Indeed, I do ; why should you doubt it . " " I am afraid ; my grandfather is old, and my aunt is a Puritan and a Roundhead." " Who has been talking to you about them ? " he asked quickly. " Mistress Yavasour," I answered, reluctantly. " Mistress Vavasour had better have left it to me," he said. " Look you, Alethea, I have told you little enough about your kindred and your home, because I thought it of small use to describe those whom you were soon to see, and I did not wish to raise or lower your expectations unduly. But if your grandfather be old, what of that ? The privations which he underwent in many campaigns, in which he proved himself a most valiant and highly esteemed soldier, have broken his health ; he is a cripple from rheumatism, and suffers pain abundantly.

But I am certain that you will find it both an honour and a pleasure to minister to his wants, and to cheer his somewhat lonely age. The gallant spirit which makes him still eager to serve his king and country, chafes at times against his helplessness ; princes and nobles have been glad to avail themselves of his help and counsel in times of need, and would do so again if he were in a condition to give it, but if he has escaped the perils of many battlefields, is it not that he may find peace and rest in his old age amongst those who will tend him with the love and care which only his children can give ? He will love you greatly, and you will feel, as I have often felt, proud of being his child." " I will, father," I said, " I will try and be a comfort to him." " God bless you, child," said my father, stroking my head.