Trevethlan.
Vol 3.
by William Davy Watson.
CHAPTER I.
_Menenius._ What work"s, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you with bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.
_Citizen._ Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have had inkling, this fortnight, what we intend to do, which now we"ll show "em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breath: they shall know we have strong arms too.
Shakspeare.
Among the most striking features of the scenery of West Cornwall, are the fantastic piles of bare granite which rise occasionally from the summit of an upland, and to a distant spectator present the exact semblance of a castle, with towers, turrets, and outworks. So a stranger, standing on Cape Cornwall and looking towards the Land"s End, might imagine he there beheld the fortress whose sanguinary sieges obtained for that promontory its ancient name of the Headland of Blood.
Or again, reclining on the moorland, near the cromlech of Morvah, while the sun was sinking behind Carnyorth, he might fancy that at the red-edged battlements on the ridge, the original inhabitants of the country made their last stand against the invaders from the German Ocean.
Approach soon destroys the illusion. And it is superfluous to observe that the warriors of those times had no notion of the structures which these caprices of nature mimic--the castles of our Plantagenets and Tudors. Their real fortresses still exist to afford employment to the antiquary, and inspiration to the poet; and to one of them we now invite the reader to accompany us.
Castle Dinas occupies the crest of the highest ground between the picturesque village of Gulvall and the pilchard-perfumed town of St.
Ives, and commands an uninterrupted view both of Mount"s Bay and of the Irish Sea. Two concentric ramparts of unhewn stones, flung together more rudely than a Parisian barricade, exhibiting the science of fortification in its very infancy, inclose a circular area of considerable extent. From it the ground slopes, not very rapidly, on all sides; and as there are no screens, an occupant of the camp can see an approaching friend or enemy some time before he arrives. Within the inner circle some prosaic favourer of picnics has erected a square _folly_, with a turret at each angle, not harmonizing very well with local a.s.sociations, but convenient in case of a shower of rain.
Around the folly, on the night which followed the departure of the orphans of Trevethlan from the home of their fathers, was pacing a stalwart man of weather-beaten aspect, with an impatient and irregular gait. The sun had sunk below the horizon, and all the south and west quarters of the sky were covered with heavy ma.s.ses of cloud, from behind which, at intervals, came the low mutterings of distant thunder. Flashes of lightning followed one another in quick succession, becoming more and more brilliant as the shades of evening grew deeper. They broke from various quarters of the horizon, but particularly from the point of sunset. The light seemed to flit or be reflected all round the sky.
Sometimes it was a lambent flame of blue, sometimes a flush of faint rose colour; sometimes the dark clouds were displayed in bold relief against a bright sheet of yellow or white. So far the sea was still calm, and the air close and heavy. But at length there came a motion in the hot atmosphere. The surface of the water was crisped. A sigh wailed along it, as if the spirit of the tempest mourned over his mission; and then the storm, whose advent had been foreseen by Randolph and Helen, during their last visit to Merlin"s Cave, advanced rapidly up the sky.
And a tempest scarcely less fierce raged in the breast of Gabriel Denis, as he paced hurriedly within those old ramparts. He was expecting an a.s.sembly almost as tumultuous as that of the warriors whose battle shouts once resounded there, and he was resolved that it should not disperse in the same innocuous manner as former meetings of the same character. One by one, and two by two, as the darkness deepened, his promised adherents arrived, and the ancient camp became filled with an excited mob, anxious for mischief, ignorant what to do.
Well might Randolph caution Edward Owen that in joining such musters as these he might easily be carried much further than he intended to go. A fretting population always contains inflammable materials, and it is far less difficult to kindle than to extinguish its fury. The consciousness of this fact frequently deters mob-leaders from urging their followers into a course where there will be no subsequent control.
And crimes of this nature are among the greatest that can be committed, especially in a free state. An idea prevails that there is a sort of heroism in defying public authority, no matter how trivial the occasion, nor how impotent the a.s.sailant. Defeated and punished, the criminal is not seldom regarded as a martyr. He is considered the victim of his own conscientiousness. Antecedent cases of successful sedition are quoted to justify subsequent failures. But all this is false and mischievous.
There is never heroism in fool-hardiness: the so-styled martyr may witness to no truth: the conscientiousness may be of the kind which calls property a theft. And former successes are rather warnings than examples. Precedent cannot avail against the powers that be.
The a.s.sembly at Castle Dinas, however, was rather riotous than seditious, and uncertain in what direction to vent its desire for mischief. There was plenty of tinder, but no one to throw the spark; until Gabriel Denis, burning with the desire of revenge for the spoiling of his house and the death of his wife, joined the counsels of the malcontents, and brought into them the energy they had previously wanted. He now flung a firebrand among the rabble, and dozens of hands were stretched to seize it. It was just suited to the mood of the moment.
"To Lelant!" the smuggler shouted. "Why loiter we here on the hill, doing nothing either of good for ourselves or of ill for those who would put us down? Are we not many, and they few? To Lelant, I say. Let us turn the tables on the revenue thieves. They have plenty of mine in their stores; but I want not that. Drink it, lads, free of duty and free of charge. But there is a desolate home yonder on the bank. What stain is that on the floor?--there shall be a redder in the storehouse at Lelant. Ay, lads, let us to Lelant."
There was a great stir in the crowd: not a few voices echoed the smuggler"s watchword--To Lelant: some of the men pressed forward as if eager to start: Gabriel himself turned to lead the way. But another voice arose: it came from the midst of a small and compact party on the outskirts of the meeting.
"What are ye about?" the speaker said. "Why go among the cutla.s.ses and carbines? Is it the drink ye would have--the drink and the sport? Ye can get them cheaper than at Lelant. Look to our great houses. Does Gabriel say they have spoiled his? Let us spoil one of theirs. What say ye to Pendar"l?"
A shout, much more enthusiastic than that which hailed the smuggler"s proposition, greeted this burst of eloquence.
"See!" continued the orator, "there"s a storm coming up from the sea. It will hide our advance; and the soldiers are called away to the "sizes.
Let us disperse, and meet again on the gra.s.s of Pendar"l."
So said, so done. As the crowd moved off, it might be noted that there were some audible murmurs of "Trevethlan for ever!" "Hurrah for Trevethlan!" showing that at least a portion of the a.s.sembly were thinking of what had happened in that hamlet a few hours before. And then the mult.i.tude divided itself spontaneously into various parties, some proceeding by the lanes and other byways, and some boldly crossing the country in twos and threes;--silent, but not so regular, as an army of ants. Meantime the storm, driven along by a high wind, came up the sky, and before the foremost of the marauders had reached the park wall of Pendarrel, the rain was falling in torrents, and the thunder rolling overhead. But these were trifles to the hardy a.s.sailants, who were now fairly on fire, and had a definite object before their eyes. They scaled the wall wherever they first found it, and advanced through the grounds towards the hall, scaring the deer with the unwonted invasion. At length they found themselves re-united for the most part in a semicircle, investing all one side of the house. Fair and stately it stood amidst the trim pleasure-grounds, reflecting the vivid flashes of lightning from its white walls and many windows, and offering, alas! too tempting a prize to the lawless band around it. Within, the household were collected about their fire-sides, listening to the uproar of the storm, and little deeming that a more terrible enemy was at hand.
CHAPTER II.
When tumult lately burst his prison door, And set plebeian thousands in a roar, When he usurped authority"s just place, And dared to look his master in the face, Liberty blushed, and hung her drooping head, Beheld his progress with the deepest dread, Blushed that effects like these she should produce, Worse than the deeds of galley-slaves let loose: She loses in such scenes her very name, And fierce licentiousness must bear the blame.
Cowper.
"What can make the dogs bark in this manner?" exclaimed Mrs. Pendarrel to her husband and daughter. "Surely not the thunder."
"I cannot tell what it is, my dear," answered her spouse, who was nearly asleep after his return from Bodmin, in spite of the external uproar. "I wish they and the thunder would both be quiet."
Mildred went behind the curtains of a window. Thick as they were, the flashes of lightning had yet gleamed through them.
"What a tremendous night!" she exclaimed.
"Come from the window, Mildred," said Mrs. Pendarrel; "it is dangerous to stand there."
"Ha!" cried the daughter, "there is fire. It cannot be the lightning!
Mamma! Papa!"
The urgency of her tone brought them both to the window. A red glare streamed over the lawn, and shone bright upon the dripping trees. Fire was there indeed.
Gabriel Denis, by this time wild with pa.s.sion and excitement, had soon discovered the means of gratifying his turbulent desires. A range of farming offices, with some ricks, stretched to the west, and therefore to windward, of the hall. Let these be once kindled, and inactivity would soon give way to riot and confusion. The smuggler had not forgotten his tinder-box. He crept down into the homestead, found a convenient nook, and soon lighted a flame, which nothing but the speediest and most energetic exertion could hinder the furious wind from converting into a great conflagration.
Unhappily the tempest, closing doors and fastening shutters, prevented an immediate discovery of the blaze, and the heavy rain was powerless to check its progress under the fanning of the gale. The interior of the corn-stack, fired by Gabriel, rapidly became a furnace, while volumes of steam and smoke rolled from the wetted thatch, and were shortly followed by jets of flame bursting from the inside. Then ma.s.ses of burning straw were lifted aloft by the wind and cast on the neighbouring ricks and wooden barns, and in scarcely more time than is occupied by this description, the homestead was evidently doomed to destruction, and the safety of the hall was become very problematical.
It was just then that Mildred summoned her father and mother to the window.
"Hark!" she said, "Was not that a shout? See, there are people running across the lawn, and under the trees. But, oh, what a light!"
Terrified domestics rushed into the parlour.
"The house is beset--hundreds of men--What can be done? What can be done?"
These exclamations were mingled with loud cries of "fire," from within and without the mansion. In the confusion, Esther Pendarrel seemed alone to preserve her presence of mind.
"Done!" she said. "The engine! The horses! Ride! Run! To Helston, and to Marazione! Raise the people! Bring down the soldiers! Away with you; and let us see where the fire is. And you, sir, look to your arms. Beset!
Nonsense!"
So saying, Esther proceeded to the wing of the hall next to the farm offices, which could not be seen from the living rooms, while her husband hurriedly distributed his fire-arms among the few servants who remained, when their fellows had departed to endeavour to fulfil the injunctions of their mistress.
Mildred accompanied her mother. "Fie," said the latter, seizing by the wrist one of a group of maids who were crying in terror, "fie, girl! Be silent; let us have no confusion. We want all our nerve."
One glance from the window to which she went showed Esther the full extent of the calamity. Long tongues of fire, bending and quivering in the fierce wind, were licking the roof of a low range of outhouses which connected the farm-yard with the hall. Esther remembered that there was a door of communication between these buildings and the house itself.
Unless they could be pulled down, and that instantly, the mansion would be in imminent peril. And besides, behind them were the ricks and barns, vomiting a perfect sea of fire, from which large flakes were ever and anon borne by the gale over the hall. One such struck the window where Mrs. Pendarrel stood with her daughter, and made them start back for a moment. And what hope was there of help? By the red glare they could see men cl.u.s.tered about, either gazing on the flames with indifference, or exhibiting exultation in their gestures and movements. Amidst the crackling of the fire and the thunder of the storm, they could hear the savage hurrahs of the incendiaries. Whence, then, could come help?
"We are lost, my child!" Esther said quietly. "But I presume they do not intend to burn us as well as the hall. Courage, dear."