Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

attracts into her sphere even Mr. Giles, religionis; while Mr. Layer and other of Barnardiston, a Quaker, from his very distant and then unfashionable orbit. And now a grand opportunity occurs to the chaplain to punish the shortcomings of the baronet, and to inflict upon him a real Puritan's penance. While Sir Thomas was anxiously awaiting his dinner (probably defessus venando, as before), the introductory scene is thus descrbed:

...

[ocr errors]

-

the hunting companions of the baronet are not quite in a state to enter upon any discourse at all. "Abierunt, hic quoque ebrius," is a not unfrequent obiter dictum of the chaplain. But had Mr. Wills communicated to Sir Thomas and his friends the wonderful recipes which he had gathered from "ladies of quality" in London, he might have given them an element of gaiety to mix with all this gravity. What could be more exciting in this way than the receipt he gave to the wondering household at Ketton for the cure of smallpox, which he propounded in this form:

66

:

at

"Mr. Crow, of Ovington, prayed for more than half an hour. Then, when he had finished (at about a quarter to two- a late hour for the Kitton dinner), though Mr. Scandridge, of Haverhill, had arrived, lest he should pray too long, Sir Thomas and the rest (his hunting friends), Let the patient procure a pair of new bade me to close the work of the day with a cotton drawers, which have never been prayer, which I did as the Lord inspired me, worn before; directly the disease shows not with the mere aid of intellect or art, but by itself, let him put them on, and immediatedirection of the Spirit alone in the confession ly all the eruption will be drawn down of sins general, special, and in Divine worship, from his face to his legs and feet. Let (an evident hint at Sir Thomas and the neck-him keep them on until the disease goes tie), in imploring pardon and grace, and the down." The presence of Mr. Wills enables spirit of adoption, our chaplain to pay a short visit to Lonwith much more. This harangue, half don. Having borrowed Mr. Coles's (the prayer, half sermon, went on to such a gardener's) mare, he starts forth to the length, that the chaplain was obliged to great city, arriving at Chelmsford revive himself, "poculo vini albi gallici." eleven o'clock. There he takes a glass But he had his revenge, and soon after of Spanish wine and some bread, and (better still) his dinner. Such a faith-stretches himself upon the chairs to get a fulness in rebuking her son-in-law, was little sleep. He wakes in an hour's time also a most effectual way of ingratiating pays his bill, viz., a shilling for himself, himself with the Viscountess, whose influ- and fivepence for his mare, and starts ence might be of the greatest advantage to him. For Lady Wimbledon, as far as we see her in these pages, was a woman of the highest type of religious character, resembling not a little the good Lady Huntingdon of a later day. The end of life seemed to her to be preaching and propagating religious doctrines, and she never rests in her pilgrimage after newer and greater spiritual lights. At Cecil House, in the Strand, her own dowerhouse (so recently and unfortunately burnt down), as well as at Ketton, where she often stayed, and where is a stately cenotaph to her memory among the monuments of the Barnardistons, she seems to have laboured to keep up those devotional fires which were so feebly flickering in that Church to which, though a Puritan, she was so evidently attached.

again at ten o'clock, reaching Romford at five. Thence at six he proceeds on his way (now rendered less pleasant from the rain), and passes Stratford-le-Bow as it strikes nine. That classic region of Chaucer seems to keep quicker time than the great metropolis, for the same hour struck again when he reached Aldgate. Here he puts up the mare at the sign of the "Saracen and Bell," calls at the Verderer's office, where he delivers some letters for Mr. Wills; walks to King-street, Guildhall, and there takes a coach to Lady Wimbledon's at Cecil House, in the Strand. Here he finds Mr. Weston, and sups with Sir Thomas Barnardiston. There seem to have been no prayers on this occasion, Sir Thomas being en garçon; so he retires to rest without being even charged "solummodo precari." On the next mornAt this moment another son had been ing he waits patiently for a summons from added to the Barnardiston family, and the the baronet to family prayer; but alas! he christening rejoicings had clearly a severer gave him the slip and had gone out in the character from the influence of the good midst of the chaplain's vigils. Presently dowager. Altogether, the guests at Ket- he starts to Tanners' Hall, where cousin ton Hall, at this period, must have repre- Howe was "praying and preaching," and sented some rather grotesque contrasts."praying again." He then accompanies his On the one side her Ladyship, Mr. Wills, relative to Lord Massareene's, for whose and Mr. Travers discoursing de magnalibus chaplaincy in Ireland he had evidently

faithfully in the miraculous results of prayer. Is it altogether impossible that he should have experienced them?

come to London to make application. This officeCousin Howe "had long filled, and he is anxious that our chaplain should become his successor. After a brief inter- A day or two after, poor Michael Barview with my lord at the "Blue Boar's nardiston, a fine, spirited boy, who is at Head" in Paternoster row, he is invited to once the special charge and the enfant call upon him at his hotel (called the "Red terrible of Mr. Travers, had been over-exand Yellow Ball") in Pall-mall. Here he citing himself, "variis exercitationibus cormeets Mr. Skeffington and Sir Charles poris,"-ringing the bells, playing at Horton, and soon after learns that his ap- football, fighting with the village boys, plication is favourably regarded, and that so as to get hurt in the conflict, and finally, Lord Massareene is about to write to Sir drinking cold water- all which ends Thomas on the subject. He breakfasts in a fever, and this gives new scope for next day at Loriners' Hall, where there is the dreadful Mr. Firmin, who at once a real feast of Nonconformist oratory. bleeds him first in the arm and then unCousin Hnghes prays; Cousin Howe der the tongue; a strange treatment for preaches; Mr. Wigan prays again; then what is described to be rather an attack Mr. Bull preaches; then one more prayer of exhaustion from the heat and exercise (and, doubtless a long one) from Dr. than anything of feverish type. Death, Jacomb, to conclude the function. After- the inevitable conclusion of Mr. Firmin's wards he pays a visit to the "Three Black-surgical course, follows even more rapidly birds," and his old host Mr. Bransill. than in the case of Sophia a coroner's Family visits now take up his time, and inquest meeting afterwards at Ketton Hall family dinners, at which assemble all the to decide whether the blow or the fever cousins Howe, including one from Ply- (they should have added the remedy) were mouth, and a French youth, a friend of the the true cause of the death. Of course last-named. Then he pays cousin Hughes they fixed upon the fever. During the thirty-eight shillings for the coat he had poor boy's illness, and before it seemed to procured for him,* borrows from him two be serious, we are entertained with a visit Concordances," and receives, as a gift, to Bury St. Edmunds, whither our ch aplain Mr. Alsop's book against Goodman. Then is accompanied by a friend, Mr. Leadprepares, with this timely aid, the sermon beatter. They put up at the "Black he is to deliver the next day before Lord Bull," and thence sally forth to see Massareene, and the still more important the town. He meets Mr. Haward and critic, cousin Howe. This probationary accompanies him "ad Coffeepolium," discourse completes his appointment, for where (we regret to say) he drinks he soon after learns that he is duly accept- something much stronger than coffee ed, and ejaculates: "Sit Deo gratia in nothing less than the celebrated old Teuæternum!" Presently cousin Hughes gives tonic beverage called "Mum," for which him ten shillings, "which I here record in he gives in another place a marvellous reremembrance of the Divine mercy and ceipt derived from the Town-house in his kindness; as, without this aid, I should Brunswick. No wonder that such a comhave had to borrow." "I spent it, how pound makes him feel in a very doubtful ever, badly." A shilling of it went in state- "invasit caput non tamen ut ebri"wine and a lemon," four shillings in a um essem sed modun excesserim.' book wh ch he "had no need of." London pays threepence at the coffee-house, and a life does not, indeed, seem to benefit his shilling at the inn. Another visit to Lonspiritual state: "Preca.us sum infirmè. don, where he makes his final arrangements Cum familiâ non precatus sum. Nihil dedi with Lord Massaseene, succeeds immedifamulis." We gladly, therefore, accom-ately during which nothing (beyond his pany our friend on his return to Ketton, during which, a somewhat miraculous effect is asserted as following his prayers: "Cum pluisset dui, et non videretur spes nlla cessandi, oravi Deum et in momento quasi temporis pluvia cessavit. . dum domum venissemus; et statim pluit iterum strenue." The good chaplain believed

he

He

hearing the great Mr. Baxter preach) occurs worthy of record. He returns immediately to Ketton to take leave of the household, to preach his valedictory sermon, and to prepare for his journey to Ireland. Invited to visit Hampden, as he passes from London to Chester, and to spend a day or two with the head of that great historic family whose name is precious to every The price of a hat appears to be at this time as English_heart, - in which, moreover, his much as twenty shillings, for he pays this sum for a hat for Mr. Darby, and the same for the good stew-cousin, George Howe, was then installed as chaplain, he starts without delay in the

ard, Mr. Shelley.

[ocr errors]

Aylesbury coach, taking his place thither, commends him to a good hostelry, where at the "Black Swan" in Holborn than he puts up, meeting there a young clergyreally a rara avis in terris. He dines at man of Dromore, "ingeniosus sed parum Uxbridge, at six o'clock in the evening pius." With him he confesses he took arrives at Wendover, where he puts up at more than was quite good for him, adding the "White Crow," a proper companion to with his usual simplicity, "cum Gulielmo the Holborn bird. At Hampden, the head tamen precatus sum." Next day he reof the house with his eldest son, receive sumes his journey through a mountainous him and entertain him with much hospi- district, "infamous" (as he tells us) "for tality for several days. After hearing the wicked and cruel slaughter of the Enghim preach in the great Hall and taking lish during the rebellion." He then reaches part with him in various religious services, Mahra Lynn, where he dines, arriving which seem to have been as frequent at next at Antrim. Here Lord Massareene Hampden as at Ketton, his good host takes joines him with his family, and here leave of him and speeds him on his jour- he suddenly becomes silent; "not so ney. He first arrives at Banbury, where much" (he says) "immersed in a healthy he sleeps, then on the next day at War- sleep as in a lethargy, neglecting to ob wick, and thence proceeds to Birmingham, serve, or at least to record, the works of which he reaches at five o'clock. At the God" It appears, however, that domeslast place he is joined by his wife and daugh- tic troubles, unknown, or at all events ter, and spends some time in their society seen at a great distance at Ketton, had and that of his friends, among whom now come upon him, and the spirit of his John Heath, a Quaker, and his daughter, dream in the "triclinium exterius of the find special mention. Taking leave of his baronet was sadly changed. His halfwife for the present, he begins his journey bachelor life with Mistress Harvey and to Ireland, reaches Newport on September Mistress Ellis, his colloquies with Sarah 3rd, Chester on the 4th, and finally Nes- Steele and Mdlle. Loisel all had passed ton, where he spends the night, recording away. Mistress Travers, as a woman of pathetically, "somni parum cepi, a pulici- spirit, cannot brook the real or imaginary bus fermè devoratus." On the morrow affronts to which her husband is subjected; he embarks, but the unfortunate craft and sometimes utters severe remarks on drives upon the sands, and the whole of "this family," as she terms it, "lamenting the next day is stuck fast on the "bars of our position, and the contempt which is Chester." Freed from their captivity, our shown to me, and declaring that she is detravellers at last get out into the open sea, termined to go back to England, whatever and pass the Skerries, where, "a few years I may do myself." since (we are reminded) the Earl of How could a diary be continued but as Meath and many others were shipwrecked a constant "thorn in the flesh "under such in one of the king's vessels," Next, they circumstances? Though we are told that pass Holyhead, and after another day and his prayers and sermons had more than night on the water, come within sight usual unction at this trying period we of the hill of Howth, and presently cast an- find no trace whatever of the genial literachor. Mr. Travers remains in Dublin for ture of Ketton or Shaksperian readings, some days,hospitably entertained by and en- of travels, geography, history, politics, the tertaining in his own fashion, many kindred Gazettes from London, or the precious fragspirits, and at last starts to Drogheda. ments of news which are brought up Here, dismissing the young man who had (sometimes it must be confessed, almost in acted as his guide, he passes on to Dundalk, a fossil state) by Mr. Barrington and Mr. and after dinner begins anew his journey Tucker. All in the Castle of the Massathrough the most perilous mountain dis- reenes is preaching, praying, expositions, tricts beyond. He finds that these are be- psalmody, religious talk, and religious conset with brigands, and meditates whether troversy, hardly so good a scheme for prohe shall get a safe-conduct, or trust to moting real and healthy religion as the Providence. He is relieved from his doubt mixed literature of Ketton Hall-the picby finding that a young gentleman (Mr. tures of the twelve Cæsars, the case of the Clinton of Clintonsville) is going in the Lord Treasurer Danby, or even the murder same direction—a papist and a man of of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey. Indeed, influence, for whose friends the brigands the difficulties of our chaplain seem to inhave a great awe and veneration. With crease with the religious sentiment he is him he joins himself, and engages in in- supposed to represent, and besides some teresting converse with him till he reaches terrible conflicts with a resolute ConformNewry. When they part, his companion 'ist, Mr. Humble, on the Book of Common

great flood of sunshine that lies warmly on the ruddy side of the old inn, on its evergreens, and on the slopes of sweet-scented mignonette, and sweetbriar, and various blossoms that adorn the bank of the river. The river itself, lying apparently motionless between level and green meadows,' has its blue surface marred here and there by a white ripple of wind; the poplars that stand on its banks are rustling in the breeze; there are swallows dipping and skimming about the old bridge, and ducks paddling along among the rushes and weeds, and cattle browsing in the deep green; and further on, some high-lying stretches of rye-grass struck into long and silvery waves by the morning wind.

Prayer, he gets between the horns of a still more perplexing dilemma on the occasion of the marriage of the daughter of his patron to a Mr. George St George, a young man of the type of Sir Thomas, qui nunc est-cujus animus ab hoc officio aversus est." For his Lordship asks our friend to pray upon the subject of the intended marriage in such ambiguous terms, that poor Mr. Travers knows not whether he is to ask for the divine counsel whether the match is to come off, or to ask for the divine blessing on its ratification. Unfortunately this difficulty is succeeded by a still greater one on the part of Mrs. Travers, whose outbreak of indignation at what she considers the contemptuous treatment of the Viscountess, so disheart- All the stir and the motion of the new ens our good chaplain, that his pen, after a day have come upon us; and Henley, few feeble efforts, falls from his hand. We clean, white, and red, with its town-hail have but few touches of his inner and shining brightly down its chief street, and outer life, and these but faintly drawn, till | all its high clusters of old-fashioned houses we arrive at the date of December 3rd, backed by a fringe of dark-wooded hill, 1681, where our acquaintance with him shows as much life and briskness as are suddenly breaks off. He resumes the usually seen in a quaint, small, old-fashthread for a moment in October, 1683, but|ioned English town. But where the sihe does not seem to have the heart to tell us much more of his history, and a single mutilated leaf is all that remains of his third attempt to describe (as he says) "the daily state of his soul." He would seem to be still with the Massareenes, in whose country he probably made his final settlement. And, as a large family was now gathering round him whose home it was not easy to move in those days of slow locomotion, when travellers from London slept the first night at Uxbridge, we may well conclude that among the good Presbyterians of Ulster, or its more moderate Episcopalians, there may be many yet to trace their origin, and perhaps their strong religious convictions, to the good Master Elias Travers, and to the pious resolutions formed at "his chambers at Mr. Bransill's at the Three Blackbirds' in Holborn."

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

"My lady is an archer rare,

And in the greenwood joyeth she;

lence and the stillness of the morning dwell is away up the reach of the river. Standing on the bridge, you see the dark blue stream, reflecting a thousand bright colours underneath the town, gradually become greyer in hue until it gets out amid the meadows and woods; and then, with a bold white curve, that is glimmering like silver in the north, it sweeps under that line of low, soft green hills which have grown pearly and grey in the tender morning mist. Bell is standing on the bridge, too. The Lieutenant has brought out her sketch-book, and she has placed it on the stone parapet before her. But somehow she seems disinclined to begin work thus early on our journey; and, instead, her eyes are looking blankly and wistfully at the rich green meadows, and the red cows, and the long white reach of the river shining palely beneath the faint green heights in the north.

"Is Henley the prettiest town in the world, I wonder?" she said.

"Yes, if you think so, mademoiselle," replied Von Rosen, gently.

ence.

She lifted her eyes towards him, as though she had been unaware of his presThen she turned to the stream. "I suppose, if one were to live always among those bright colours, one would

There never was a marksman yet who could com- get not to see them, and would forget how

pare

In skill with my ladie."

EARLY morning in Henley! From over the wooded hills in the east there comes a

fine is this old bridge, with the pretty town, and the meadows, and the stream. Seeing it only once, I shall never forget Henley, or the brightness of this morning."

With that, she closed her sketch-book, | Quinet_has been simply making a fool of and looked round for Tita. That small you. For the Major belongs to two clubs, person was engaged in making herself ex- and in the one he pays eight guineas and tremely wretched about her boys and the in the other ten guineas a year. And he pony; and was becoming vastly indignant smokes Manillas at 25s. a hundred, which because she could get no one to sympa- is equivalent, my dear though you will thize with her wild imaginings of diverse scarcely credit it to threepence apiece." perils and dangers. "The money must go somehow," says Tita, defiantly.

"Why, to hear you talk," she was saying at this moment, "one would think you had never experienced the feelings of a parent that you did not know you were the father of those two poor boys."

[ocr errors]

That," I remark to her, "is not a matter on which I am bound to express an opinion."

"Very pretty -very!" she said, with a contemptuous smile. "But I will say this that if you had had to buy the pony, the boys would have had to wait long enough before they were exposed to the dangers you think so little about now."

"Madam," I observe, sternly, "you are the victim of what theologians call invincible ignorance. I might have bought that pony and all its belongings for a 201. note; whereas I shall have to pay 40l. a year for its keep."

66

Oh, I know," says my Lady, with great sweetness, "how men exaggerate those things. It is convenient. They complain of the cost of the horses, of the heaviness of taxes, and other things; when the real fact is that they are trying to hide what they spend out of their income on cigars, and in their clubs when they go to town. I counted up our taxes the other day, and I don't believe they have been over Sl. for the whole of the last six months. Now you know you said they were nearly 351. a year."

[ocr errors]

"And you counted in those that are due next week, I suppose? "Did you leave money to pay for them?" she asks, mildly.

"And you based your calculations on some solitary instalment for armorial bearings? which you brought into the family, you know."

"Yes," she replies, with an engaging smile. "That was one thing you did not require before - I am sorry to have caused you so much expense. But you need not avoid the subject. Mrs. Quinet told me last week that she knows her husband pays every year 651. for club-subscriptions alone, and nearly 401. for cigars." "Then Mrs. Quinet must have looked into your eyes, my dear, and seen what a simple little thing you are; for your knowledge of housekeeping and other expenses, I will say, is as slight as need be, and Mrs.

[ocr errors]

"That is a customary saying among women; but it generally refers to their own little arrangements.'

[ocr errors]

"You avoid the question very skilfully." "I should have thought you would have preferred that."

66

"Why?" she says, looking up.

"Because you accused me of stinginess in not buying a pony for the boys, and I showed you that I should have to pay 40. a year for the brute."

[ocr errors]

Yes, showed me! I suppose by that pleasing fiction you will gain other 20l. a year to spend in Partagas, and Murias, and trumpery stuff that the tobacconists tell you came from abroad."

66

My dear," I say, "your insolence is astounding."

"If you call speaking the plain truth insolence, I cannot help it. Bell, breakfast must be ready."

66

Yes, my Lady," says Bell, coming forward demurely. "But I wasn't doing anything."

So they went off; and the Count and I followed.

"What is the matter?" says he. "Do you know what a 'relish' is at breakfast?" "No."

"Then don't marry, or you will find out."

The tall young man with the brown beard and the light eyes shrugged his shoulders, and only said, as we walked to the inn

"That is a very pleasant comedy, when it means nothing. If it was earnest you would not find so much enjoyment in it no, not at all-you would not amuse yourselves like two children, instead of the parents of a family. But, my dear friend, it is a dangerous thing; for some day you will meet with a stupid person who will not understand how Madame and yourself do make-believe in that way, and that person will be astonished, and will talk of it, and you will both have a very bad reputation among your friends."

However, there was one amiable person at the breakfast-table, and that was Bell.

"Bell," I said, "I am going to sit by you. You never provoke useless quarrels

« VorigeDoorgaan »