Alice Bridge of Norwich — page 17: what you’re looking at

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32 ALIOE BRIDGE OF NORWICH, see if any is left in this irreligious Jand, If obedience be now refused, we must and will enforce it,” Bridge was about to reply, when loud jeers and cries of ‘‘To prison with him!” ‘‘Arrest him!” ‘Punish. him!’ arose from most of the clergy; while the Bishop, smiling scornfully, with his harsh voice exclaimed, ‘' Driveler! Ihave long marked you fora rebel. You.will not long be free to spread your influ- ence and to air your insolence.” Bridge, Allen, and a few more retired with sad hearts to talk and pray over theirimminent peril, and their duty, which now seemed very plain. They came to the resolution to resign their livings at once, and to cast themselves on the gracious providence of a faithful God. ‘When they had separated, the Rector ex- plained to his wife and daughter what had occurred, and then realized what a woman’s fortitude is capable of in real cnlamity. Both ladies, together with George, applauded the re- solve; and Alice, on Iearning the treatment of her father, and what was required of the clergy, indignantly exclaimed, ‘‘ Let us leave England till she knows the worth of her best children,” The next day after the convocation of the clergy the resignation was sent, and met with no reply but the sentence of excommunication, and the appointment in his place of cringing Dr. Green, the Bishop’s subservient tool. The interior of the plain old church was all. deco- rated on the first Sunday of Dr. Green’s appear- ance as Rector, the altar railed in, the service intoned, and the ancient choir exchanged for surpliced choristers, The Book of Sports was read, as well as the oath of royal Divine right, amid the awkward genuflections of the un- graceful Rector. At the close of the service, the old sounding-board over the pulpit sud- denly cracked, and fell with a terrific noise, crushing the pulpit; and many silently wished Dr. Green had been under it. On leaving church and crossing Tombland, the Rector’s old friends saw with pain the archery butts and may-poles erected, and provision for turning the Sabbath into Saturnalia commenced. As the Rector’s family passed over the Green, many quietly wrung his wife’s hand, or bowed to her; but the strongest testimony borne to her displaced husband was from Widow Freeman, his old antagonist, who, taking her hand by force, said aloud, ‘‘I never liked your husband when he wis in office, but I honor him more to-’ day. Let who will say nay, he is more of a Christian than those who have sent him away. My husband’s blessing, and my poor Lydia’s, are with him and with you!” But her son Jacob, in great anger, came-and dragged her off, crying out, ‘‘ Mother, come away!—you don’t know what you do. Bridge is an excommunicated heretic!” “‘Let me alone, you fool,” said the roused mother, ‘‘and go to your Wrens and Green- finches, and your squeaking birds who are peck- ing out old England’s eyes.” Bridge remained some time in Norwich, and received numerous expressions of respect, though very privately tendered; but hearing that a writ ad.capiendwm was out against him, he prepared to fly, first to Yarmouth, and there to wait a favorable occasion for crossing the sea, CHAPTER XXI.__ THE PILLORY, “Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyes Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him; No joyful tongue gave him his weleome home; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not God for some strong purpose steeled The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.” SHAKESPEARE, STEPHEN WReEn and Dr. Green were loung- jing in a private room of the Palace before a table on which was a. large beaker of brown ale, and tankards for the drinkers, Wren was in @ military undress, worn with slovenly negli- gence; and Green appeared in his cassock, or soutane,—very new and clean,-but which set ill on his thick-set, awkward pergon. Both looked excited over the theme of their discourse, and Wren warmly exclaimed, ‘Green, I know not what to make of you! ‘Why such revenge? The cuckoo is content to seize the nest, but suffers the former dwellers to flyaway. Why lay hands on Bridge when you what mean you by pursuing Alice? | goose chase?” _ Wed!” was the tart. reply; ‘‘of that you give me a fine specimen. What do I mean? I like the girl;—she has spirit beyond her train- ing. I will not let George have her, come what will. I will spite him to the death.” “Then,” said Green, “you have a rare chance, for George is to take Bridge and Allen, disguised as sailors, to a lodging in Pocthorpe this night, in bope of escape to Yarmouth. There we can easily apprehend them and probably George also, without the éclat and op- position of arresting them at home. We will make sure of the capture, if you will only as- sist, as a friend, to persuade the victims to enter the decoy.” “Very good,” cried Stephen, rising from the table, ‘I will adjourn to the Sherwoods, and ‘*Well, well,” said Green, with a cold sneer, “farewell. Success attend you.” trance at the hospitable house whose inmates he was ready so basely to trepan. Standing on the threshold, he said to himself, ‘Now for a change of parls—the deferential young gentle- man, the warmly interested friend, the half- am I ready?” He heard sounds of loud and eager conversation, whose echoes led him to the room where most of the two families of the Sherwoods and the Bridges were met to confer on the danger impending. ‘ “‘Ah, Stephen!” cried Edward, the first to welcome the new-comer, on whose entrance several of the party looked very gloomily,— “you can probably throw some light on our anxieties,” ‘Extremely concerned,” said Wren, “to learn your fears, which I know are too true. Your excellent pastor, and my kind friend, is in real peril. My information leads me to believe that he must quit this neighborhood for a safer and obscurer place at once, or this night he will be torn from your very midst. Surely some tem- porary shelter may be found, but here he must not slay.” ‘“Would they dare to take him from his home and parish?” said Alice. ‘‘ Oh, dear fa- ther, for you to hide and skulk!—what a reward for a life of holy blessing!” “Dearest Alice,” returned her father, “it is written of saints ‘of whom the world was not worthy’ that they wandered in sheep-skins and goat-skins, in deserts and in dens and caves of the earth, being destitute, afflicted, and tor- mented.” Soon after this conversation the disguised clergymen were escorted by George and his band to one of the poorest houses in Pocthorpe, where they supposed their hiding was quite un- known. Late-at night, however, without warn- ing, this refuge was secretly surrounded by agents of the Bishop, who had the refugees in their power before their guards had any idea of their danger. George brought up his force to the rescue, disguising his presence as well as he could, only to find himself the mark for a de- termined effort to capture his person. He was convinced that the masked leader of his as- sailants was none other than Stephen Wren, and cursed in hiy heart the misplaced confi- dence in such 4 wretch. He escaped, but only to convey the sad news of the failure of his own plan for the security of thosé so greatly beloved. The grief and dismay caused by his report may be imagined, specially as in a few days it was learnt that the prisoners were treat- ed with barbarous severity by the cruel Bishop, and that after a mock trial they were eondemn- ed shortly to stand in the pillory on Tombland Green, and -to be taken thence to the market: place, to be publicly scourged, and branded with hot irons on the face with §.8., or ‘* Sower of Sedition.” Stephen Wren was the bearer of this news, —while he deplored his ill-fortune in having! to command the party of soldiers told off for this distressing duty. Alice,with Harriet Allen, | listening to these details with swimming eyes and wringing hands, could not help appealing to Wren: ‘You in command! Oh, Stephen, have his living?” ‘‘ Stephen,” rejoined the other, ‘‘ do you for- get your own father, and the Jesuit who in- then you could contrive or help some escape! Pray do relieve our misery!” Wren, lest he should wholly lose the good- they will consult me as a friend, to.their cost.” ! They parted, and Wren at once found en-! ecclesiastic, and the family confidant! Now, ! spires him? It is not their will to let these! will of Alice at this crisis, was compelled to clergy escape, and breed fresh swarms of secta-' appear favorable. ties over the sea. They will have their will over I fear it would be impossible,—at least before Bridge and Allen, as over others already. But the pillory.” You | would never wed the daughter of a ruined and! ‘‘ that is the least part—to stand and be gazed disgraced heretic! What mean you by this wild- upon.” r hae ‘“T would do so gladly, but “Well,” said Alice, catching at his exception, “That is not all,” answered Wren; ‘‘I don’t think you or I would like to stand by them,” ‘‘ T would like to stand anywhere to be with my father,” cried Alice,—‘ living, suffering, or dying. But perhaps after the pillory you could | save them from the worst. Oh, Stephen, think ; What gratitude you would earn!” “Tf I do,” said cunning Stephen, drawing , Alice aside, ‘* will you promise to look favor— ‘ably on my desires?” Alice now saw the peril ; she had risked, and for a moment an angry re- fusal was on her lips, but she restrained herself, | They were interrupted at this point, and parted in mutual misconception. The fearful day arrived. Tombland Green, which had so long witnessed the happy festiv- ities of all classes, together with their beloved minister, and which had been the sacred path- ' way to blessed worship in the adjoining church for so many years, was now prepared for avery different spectacle. A sort of hustings, draped in black, was erected, with its back to the Close, and surrounded by a stout rail to keep back the ‘crowd, Already many of the poorer people , were loitering there watching the preparations, and generally with eyes of regret rather than pleasure. Most of the houses had windows and blinds closed as for a general mourning. In one of these houses, poor Ann, by turns dis- solved in tears and spurred to rage, had given ‘her poor Will an uneasy time. “‘IfI were a |man,” she cried out, ‘‘I would tear down the vile pillory and rescue the prisoners, Why don’t you do something?—you are all cowards! | Where’s Master George now?—and Master Al- jJen? _Won’t they strike for Alice’s own father and his friend?” “* What can we do?” muttered Will. “Oh,” said his wife, ‘‘ I would get a heap of stones beside the pillory, and beat away tke crowd.” “What it the soldiers wouldn’t let you? But we do hope to get them away after the pil- lory.” “ After they have been disgraced and half- killed with stones and filth, and can hardly crawl away! Oh, if I could only do some- thing!” “It would be something,” said Will, ‘to save their ears and faces from the hot irons,” ‘‘Save them! You talk, but you'll never do it. Oh, oh!—I see the good parson in the hands of the torturers—the blood streaming— theJife going!—There is no help,—woe's me} woe’s me!” Will tried consolation, but then she became furious; so he went off to consult with his master and others on plans of rescue. At length a movement was perceptible in the direction of the Palace. The military drum and fife were then heard. A crowd preceded their approach. Two or three horse soldiers were seen, commanded by Captain Wren, There was also a troop of infantry. The prisoners were in their clerical Geneva dress, and their arms were closely bound. They were forced to march rapidly through the crowd to the back of the pillory, to mount the stairs, and to sub- mit to have their heads and hands inserted through holes in a stout plank across the plat- form, about their height, the upper part of which was lifted to admit them, and then shut and padjocked over them. The grotesque ap- pearance they presented in front of the unpity- ing mob, and the fearfully strained position of their bodies, constituted the terror of this odious punishment. Two horse soldiers kept guard just below them before the pillory. At first the two clergymen seemed to feel their shame very acutely, and scarcely looked up from the ground, while they trembled from cold and excitement. But by degrees, finding that they met with so little animosity, they stood as erect as possible. Gazing over the gathering multitude to the familiar houses around, they often lifted their eyes in faith to the justice reigning above the skies, Presently, however, there mixed with the crowd a number of balf-drunken roughs and bigoted emissaries, whose mission it was by passionate cries and wanton acts to stir the people to the usual cruelty. Shouts of ‘ Hur- |rah for Bishop Wren!” ‘‘Down with canting snuffiers!” began to be heard. Wild youths then aimed vegetables, filth, stones, pieces of ALICE BRIDGE OF NORWICH, z 00 wood, in the direction of the pillory, and the! shower of missiles often smote hard the persons of the undefended victims, who were soon cov- ered with dirt, bruised and bleeding. Among the most furious of the assailants was Jacob Freeman, who had brought a tub of vile things to throw at his old clergyman, as he cried, ‘Hurrah for the Bishop!—down with the Puri- tans!” At last, a piece of brick thrown by him struck Bridge just under the eye, and caused pblood to stream. The good man cried out, “The Lord help me! O Jacob, Jacob!—when your father died, and you were left an orphan, who educated you, and helped your mother to maintain her family?—and this is my re- ward!’ Some of the mob hearing this, gathered round Jacob Freeman, and hustled him, raving with fury, right off the Green, after which the shower of missiles lessened. Just then a powerfully built brewer appeared with a great pailful of pigs’- wash and soapsuds, which he aimed full at the clergyman, shout- ing, “ See, I'll wash the dirt off you!” Unfort- unately, the man’s arm caught a neighbor’s coat, which spoilt his aim, and the whole vile contents came down on the unlucky head of the horse soldier who was sitting in immovable grandeur at his post, and covered him and his horse from head to heel with most unsavory perfume. The horse took fright, and, plung- ing and rearing, threw his rider heavily,—who, having been a little cleansed by his comrades, Tremounted, but with evident fear of some fur- ther catastrophe. These accidents caused much laughter, and abated the disposition of those present for fur- ther harshness, when suddenly a sight of sin- gular interest engaged all attention;—a young girl dressed in white was seen ascending the rude pillory, crossing it, and then taking her stand between the two sufferers, while, clinging to her father’s lifted arm, she stood right in front of the rough multitude,and looked steadily with her innocent eyes on the witnesses of her father’s humiliation. The words of Wren, un- intentionally uttered, ‘‘ How would you like to stand -beside them?” had sunk into a heroic heart, and borne this fruit, though the secret intention was kept from every friend. Noth- ing could have pleaded more effectively the cause of the sufferers. Men looked at the slight girl’ through a misteof admiring tears. As she stood there, an unbound and willing suf- ferer, the whisper went round, ‘‘It is his daughter!—'tis Alice Bridge, the Flower of Tombland!” Not only did all indignities cease, but through the whole City the word went to ‘‘Come and see the brave girl stand by her father in the pillory!” Some secret friends threw bunches of sweet flowers before Alice and her companions. This change of missiles was soon imitated, till the dark pillory was covered with a carpet, and festooned with garlands of bright flowers of sympathy and esteem for those so unrighteously suffering. New spectators arrived from moment to mo- ment, and stood spell-bound with wonder and interest as the hours of exposure slowly waned away. ; “ Before the removal, Captain Wren rode up by the pillory, and said to Alice, ‘ Bravely done!—who would have thought it? But now you must go home.” «* Yes,” said her father; ‘‘she has been my angel, but she must go no further.” “T cannot leave you, father;—I am able. But if I go, Stephen, will you keep your promise?”’ Wren being powerfully wrought on at the moment by admiration, and ymarting also under some rebukes he had received at home, nodded, saying, ‘I will try,” es The procession was re-formed, the jailers re- turning to the Palace. The prisoners, weary and wounded, were allowed to walk but, slightly pound between the soldiers, Asthey all turned from the Green toward the market, the immense crowd made the passage difficult. At the corner, Ann was waiting to seize Alice and take her home. Alice, whispered to her father, as she kissed him, ‘‘ Father, I could not go if Idid not know you will be rescued. Be of gvod cheer.” ‘Then she slipped away, just meeting George, who, with his eyes full of tears, said, ‘ Alice, I could worship you!—glorious girl! « Never mind now, George: Stephen promises to give the occasion.” ; ‘Have no faith in that wretch,” said George. “Only this time, Watch, George; and if the soldiers pass forward, and the prisoners are left a moment, be ready.” Herbert Hervey, and Gerhardt had massed their men at the corner of Wensum Street: even at that moment, a shout was raised of some riot ahead which caused obstruction of the way, and a command fell from Wren for the soldiers to advance. In the hurry the prisoners fell some yards into the rear of their guards: the crowd filled up the intervening space. The prisoners were at once seized by the friendly watchers, mounted on horses, hurried on board beyond pursuit. with friends in the great seaport of Yarmouth, where they might be safe till a vessel could be provided to bear them into a Dutch exile. CHAPTER XXII. ESCAPE TO ROTTERDAM. “Twas moonset at starting, yet while we drew near pi oebiy the cocks crew, and twilight dawned clear; At Boom a great yellow star came out to see; At Duffield ‘twas morning as plain as could be; From Mechlin church steeple we heard the half chime; , : . ith * time.” So Joris broke silence with * Yet there ee aa A FrEw days had passed since the clergymen’s successful escape, when again in a small room' in the Bishop’s Palace there had met Dr. Green, Stephen Wren, and in addition to themi a third, Black Joe, a Pocthorpe fellow ready for any evil enterprise. ; “Now you know the Bishop’s orders,” said Green. ‘‘Can you find men todo the busi- ness?” ‘« What! escort two ladies with their baggage to Yarmouth? I should think so.” “Yes,” added Stephen; ‘‘ but then you are also to track out old Bridge in his hiding, and bring them all back again.” : ‘*Hasy, my boy!—then the ladies are only a decoy?” answered Joe. ‘‘T had as lief myself they all got away,” added Green; “‘ but the Bishop won’t hear of it. He is furious at their recent escape. He would have branded Bridge with his own hand, I believe. You, Stephen, have felt the weight of his anger.” : : “JT think I have! We must not fail this time.” “T could easy get ’em all right away, your honor. I knows Jem Brace the smuggler.’’ “That will not do,” interrupted Stephen; “‘you are not to get them away, but to bring them all here—parson and all. Butno harm to the ladies, or I’ll have you flogged.” ‘Not the least bit, your honor;-—-only don’t talk of flogging,—that hurts my feelings!” ‘Well, don’t blab, and don’t drink. Have a cart ready for the baggage. I will bring the ladies to-morrow morning early.” About the same time a colloquy took place between George and Alice, with her mother, concerning their proposed escape. _ “George,” said the mother, ‘‘ Alice tells me that Stephen Wren has been offering to find means for our getting to Yarmouth to-morrow; but of course we rely on y