Legends of Lancashire 14

Legends of Lancashire 14

The two brothers drew closer to each other, and, in a short time,

our hero was “himself again,” and spoke of undertaking an adventure

with Satan that very night. And the first question to be settled

was, what should Gideon’s apparel be? Some philosophers, perhaps,

will say, that in strict logical arrangement, this ought not to

have been the first question, and that the time and place had prior

claims upon their notice. But, let it be remembered, that the hero

was a tailor.--Jeremiah was decidedly of opinion that Gideon should

not take a coat. “The book,” he argued, “gives directions that

a circle be drawn round your person. Now, should the slightest

movement on your part be made, the skirts of the coat might fly

over the circle, and the enemy might seize them, and thus draw you

from your strong hold of safety, and carry you away.”

 

It was, therefore agreed upon, _nem. con._ that Gideon should not

take a coat.

 

“And as for the night cap,” resumed the same subtle reasoner,

“since it is of a red colour, it may remind him of the hot place

which he has left, and then setting him to shiver and tremble, may

give you, his opponent, some advantage.”

 

This, likewise, was carried unanimously.

 

The next series of questions was concerning the place. The book

had mentioned a wood, and luckily it occurred to the remembrance

of Gideon, that there was a dark wood, at a short distance

from Ormskirk. But then, all the trees were of fir, and it was

distinctly stated, that the challenger should stand behind a yew.

Here seemed to be an insuperable objection.

 

By agreement they divided themselves into two committees, to

deliberate upon the matter; and they placed themselves at opposite

sides of the fire, and hid their faces in their hands, lest the

other might know of their opinion. Once, indeed, they had started

from their posture, as they imagined that they heard Nelly’s foot

on the staircase, but as she did not make her appearance, it was

resumed: and certainly the __EXPRESSION__ of their countenance at that

moment would not have discovered any opinion about the question in

consideration. At length Gideon started from his seat.

 

“I have it!” he exclaimed, rubbing his brow and scratching his

head, “yes: the priest, towards the conclusion of his discourse

last Sunday, told us that the yew was a type of death. He said that

it was black, and so was death: it grew in the church-yard, and so

did death. Then he stated--”

 

“Go on, go on,” interrupted Jeremiah impatiently,--“proceed,

brother. I fell asleep over that point.”

 

“Then he stated,” continued Gideon, “that as the yew was the emblem

of the death of old men, so the cypress, being a much smaller tree,

might, with great propriety, be considered as an emblem of the

death of young men. Now I am a young man, Jeremiah, and the cypress

is, therefore, the tree for me!”

 

“But is there a cypress in ‘the Rough?’”

 

“No, no,” was the answer, “remain here for a little, and I will

bring one. Satan can have no objection, unless he be a coward, to

one standing without roots.”

 

Still Gideon did not leave the house, and some uncomfortable

thoughts were evidently clouding his brow, at least that part of it

which the nightcap left uncovered.

 

“Should Nelly come down, and find that I am out, she would leave

me to cool all night, on the wrong side of the door. But covered

with glory, from fiendish achievements, could she resist me?”--and

elated with the idea, he looked a few inches taller, and braver by

as many; strode with a martial air twice across the room, and then

strode out. Jeremiah was not fond of adventures: and the truth was,

that he had not asked where his brother was going for the cypress,

lest he should have been answered by another question, “would he

not accompany him?” He himself confessed that he was rather of a

_sedentary_ disposition, and must, therefore, have declined to

leave his chair.

 

Meanwhile Gideon was threading his way to the churchyard, which

was at a little distance. The priest, it seems, had said, that

should any of his hearers have the curiosity to see a cypress, he

would, when the service was over, shew them one. A few had remained

behind: of whom, some not being very excellent herbists, had

expected to find winter apples there; because, as they reasoned,

the tree was an emblem of death, and the eating of an apple had

brought death into the world. Gideon was not of this class. He

was forced to remain behind, because Mrs. Chiselwig had strictly

enjoined him never to be nearer her on their way home, than a

hundred yards; so that he received the benefit of the priest’s

illustration, and knew exactly the situation of the cypress. He

entered the churchyard, found the spot, and then ascertained that

he had forgot a digging spade. It was dim twilight, but the snow

on the ground made objects, otherwise invisible, to be seen, and

the tailor recognized a form approaching. He at once concluded

that it was the enemy, and took his station, as directed, behind

the cypress. He heard a deep groan, and then a shriek. Nothing

terrified, Gideon called out, in a ferocious tone, “Come, James,

come,” when he received an answer,

 

“Oh! heaven, save my wits, and my body. Shall I come? No, no; and

yet I cannot run. Something holds me fast.”

 

Gideon was astonished. The enemy had, in his hearing, breathed a

prayer;--not a pater-noster, indeed, but still a prayer. Soon,

however, his astonishment gave way to his rage, that he would not

come. “Fiend! coward!” Gideon cried out, when he instantly heard

retreating steps. He pursued in the direction of the sounds, and

came up to a form crouching behind a tombstone! The tailor was

collared in a moment, and struck to the ground.

 

“You are the fiend or ghost who terrified me. I took thee for the

spirit of the strange gentleman, over whose grave the cypress is

planted. Ha! take that, and that,” and as he spoke he made a few

presents to Gideon, which seemed very like blows. “Where are your

confounded life-preservers now? Are they upon you?” and he struck

the tailor’s shins, who, looking up, beheld James Dennis, the

sexton of Ormskirk. We have hinted already that the members of

these two useful professions, during the winter, were not very

amicably disposed towards each other. After Gideon had got upon his

legs, the sexton resumed,--

 

“You have tried to rob me of my trade, and I have half a mind to

make you atone for it, by putting you into a grave which I have

just dug.”

 

“Not to night,” interrupted Gideon. “I have a work before me,

to be performed, and I shall not be buried happily till it be

accomplished. Not to night, good sir, for I fight the devil!”

 

A fit of shivering came over his companion, who was very

superstitious; and it is no comfortable word, that same devil, to

be heard with an atmosphere of darkness, and in a churchyard.

 

“Oh! oh!” groaned the sexton, “mention it not. The snow falls

heavily, and I often fancy that such is the garb of light, which we

are told he sometimes assumes.”

 

“Hast thou, friend,” inquired Gideon, “seen the track of his steps

here lately? Snow shews them rarely. Here they are--”

 

“For goodness sake, do not mention the subject,” interrupted the

sexton, as he trembled anew. The tailor, however, explained all

his warlike intentions to him: stated for what he had come to the

church-yard: and finally, received the assistance of the grave

spade, to uproot the sickly cypress. He left the spot, bearing

it on his shoulders, and the hero of the Eneïd did not stalk

with a prouder air, as he raised the heavenly shield which his

goddess-mother had induced Vulcan to forge for him, than did Gideon

Chiselwig, tailor, in Ormskirk.

 

The snow continued to fall heavily, and the wind drifted it about

in fury, when, a little before midnight, the two tailors (for

Jeremiah, from fear of Mrs. Chiselwig’s wrath, had thought it best

to accompany his brother) were moving in the direction of the Rough

Wood, situated at a short distance from the town. The priest, it

will be recollected, had termed the cypress black; but it had

now changed colours, and was white enough. Gideon’s nightcap was

still red, for, at his request, Jeremiah took it from the head

repeatedly, and dashed the snow from it, lest it should lose any

of its power, to call up some rather unpleasant sensations in the

mind of Satan. Many were the misfortunes which befel them on the

way; now wandering from their course, and now stumbling into a deep

wreath of snow.

 

“Gideon’s courage, however, was not to dissolve thereby, and

wearied as he was, by carrying the cypress, and dragging Jeremiah,

he still persevered, and at length reached the entrance of the

wood. They passed on to a convenient station, Jeremiah starting

when large flakes of snow fell upon his face, from the trees.

 

“No more, no more,” said Gideon, making a halt near to some

overgrown firs, and his voice sounded so hollow, even to himself,

that he almost began to be frightened. “Here is the scene of the

horrible enchantment; Jeremiah, brush my nightcap, whilst I elevate

the cypress on that huge branch.”

 

“Aye, aye, brother, raise it high. The book said that he would

appear at the top; do not allow him to come too near, for I never

relished sulphur much.”

 

When all things were in readiness, the nightcap adjusted, and the

cypress fixed, the brave knight of the needle, in a firm voice,

cried out,--

 

“Come, James, come!”

 

A flash of lightning gleamed over their heads, and a voice, by no

means musical, though merrily attuned, amidst hollow laughter,

said,--

 

“Here, Gideon, here.”

 

As soon as a circle of safe diameter had been described by their

fingers, they looked up. There Jeremiah was fated to behold eyes

of a much deeper red than his own, peering down; moreover with a

less mournful __EXPRESSION__. He fell, but had the good sense to fall

within the magic circle, and there he groaned. Gideon was thus

left alone to brave the infernal terrors; and whatsoever some may

say respecting Beelzebub, certainly on this occasion, he did not

appear the handsome and well-favoured gentleman, equipped in boots,

shining so beautifully, that everything is reflected, except his

hoofs,--and perfumed with spices and ointments, to suppress the

strong effluvial sulphur of his person. Nor was he the noble fiend

of Milton, shorn of his glory, as the sun in a partial eclipse:

for we presume that his devilship has the right of proving the

simile false at the hour of midnight. Accordingly, horrible sights

were Gideon’s, and they were ever varying. Now the enemy assumed

some strange mixture of forms,--rolling heads, contorted legs,

and swinging tail: but before a conception could be formed in the

tailor’s mind of what they were, he was altogether changed. Light,

darkness, and smoke, were around him. The cypress leaves rustled to the movement of his hoofs.