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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..56c16f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69055 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69055) diff --git a/old/69055-0.txt b/old/69055-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f2095b3..0000000 --- a/old/69055-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4622 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of John de Lancaster; vol. I., by Richard -Cumberland - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: John de Lancaster; vol. I. - -Author: Richard Cumberland - -Release Date: September 27, 2022 [eBook #69055] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Sonya Schermann, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN DE LANCASTER; VOL. -I. *** - - - - - - JOHN DE LANCASTER. - - - VOLUME I. - - - - - JOHN DE LANCASTER. - - A NOVEL. - - BY - - _RICHARD CUMBERLAND, ESQ._ - - IN THREE VOLUMES. - - VOL. I. - - _LONDON_: - - PRINTED FOR LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO. - - TEMPLE OF THE MUSES, - - FINSBURY-SQUARE. - - 1809. - - - - - Harding and Wright, Printers, St. John’s Square. - - - - -JOHN DE LANCASTER. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_The Reader is made acquainted with the Family of De Lancaster._ - - -On the first of March 1751, Robert De Lancaster, a native of North -Wales, and grandfather of my hero, had assembled his friends and -neighbours to celebrate, according to custom, the anniversary of their -tutelary saint. - -I enter at once upon my story without any introduction, having already -announced this novel in my Memoirs, and I flatter myself, if it is -perused with that candour, to which fair dealing has some claim, it -will serve to entertain the major part of its readers, disappoint not -many and corrupt not one. - -Robert de Lancaster was a gentleman of great respectability, and -Kray-castle, the venerable seat of his family through many generations, -lost nothing of its long-established fame for hospitality on this -occasion: the gentry were feasted, and the poor were not forgotten. - -The family of this worthy antient Briton consisted of an only son -Philip, married to an heiress of the house of Morgan, and a maiden -daughter, named Cecilia. He was himself a widower. Mrs. Philip De -Lancaster was at this time in that state, which gave speedy hopes of an -heir to the very ancient family, into which she had married: in the -festivities of the day she had taken little share, and in the -superintendence of her father-in-law’s household absolutely none: that -province she had found in much more able hands, and never sought to -interfere with the administration of it: in short she had no ambition -for authority, and very great objection to any thing, that might require -exertion, or occasion trouble. - -Cecilia De Lancaster from the death of her mother, through a period of -more than ten years, had patiently and without repining suffered her -youth to pass away, amply repayed by the love and approbation of her -father, whilst she devoted herself to all those duties, which had -devolved upon her, when Kray Castle lost its mistress. Her brother -Philip had quite as little disposition to trouble as his lady, so that -all things were under the unenvied government of Cecilia; and every -guest, that resorted to the house, every domestic, that belonged to it, -bore witness to the excellence of her administration. - -A character like hers, though located amidst the recesses of -Merionethshire, could not be totally divested of attraction; for she had -high pretensions on the score of fortune, and a pedigree, that only -stopped where the world began: these might have been enough to satisfy -any reasonable man, though some perhaps would have rated them the higher -for the loveliness of her person, the excellence of her understanding -and the virtues of her mind. - -Amongst the many suitors, who in various periods of her celibacy had -been induced to propose themselves to her, none had been so persevering -in his addresses as Sir Owen ap Owen, baronet, a gentleman by no means -of yesterday, and possessed of a very fair and ample landed property, -upon which there were no other encumbrances save only the barren rocks -and unproductive mountains, over which it stretched. He was indeed not -very eminent as a scholar; for although Sir Owen had without doubt been -taught to read, he had almost entirely discontinued the practice of it: -and indeed, considering the nature of Sir Owen’s more immediate -pursuits, reading might very well be dispensed with, as it could only -tend to interrupt his evening nap, and not improve him in the art of -hallooing to his hounds, or pushing round the tankard to a tawdry toast: -he however administered justice to his neighbours, and settled -differences in a summary way after a fashion of his own, by reference -not to any books of law, but to the beer barrels in his cellar; by -which his decisions as a magistrate became extremely popular, and men -quarrelled first, that they might get drunk afterwards, and patch up the -peace in their cups, which they had broken when they were sober. By -these means Sir Owen got a good name in the county, and supported a -considerable interest, which he never failed to employ, as his fathers -had done before him, in opposing and railing at the minister of the day, -whoever that obnoxious animal might chance to be. - -This distinguished personage was now in the fifth year of his -suitorship, and verging towards the fiftieth of his age, whilst the -inexorable Cecilia had already endured a siege half as long as that of -Troy, without betraying any symptoms, that might indicate a surrender. -In fact Sir Owen seemed now to content himself with a yearly summons, -like the Moors before Ceuta, as a compliment to his perseverance, and to -keep up appearances and pretensions. - -It was now Saint David’s day, when he never failed to be a visitor to -the castle, and he had brushed out the lining of his coach, and put -himself in his best array, to do honour to the festival, at which he -knew Cecilia would preside. His person was not eminently graceful, for -he was a round, red-faced gentleman, neither tall of stature, nor light -of limb; but his apparel bore the faded marks of ancient splendor, and -his huntsman had bestowed uncommon pains in frizzing out a huge white -perriwig, which he had powdered with no sparing hand. Sir Owen was at no -time apt to be an idle looker-on whilst the bottle was in circulation, -and on the present occasion he had charged himself more than usually -high to encounter an opposition, which he had reason to expect would be -more than usually stubborn; for though due consideration had been paid -to his rank, and he had been placed at table close beside the lady, who -presided at it, fortune had not favoured him with any striking -opportunities for displaying his address, or advancing himself in her -good graces. On the contrary he had been rather unlucky in his -assiduities, and in his eagerness to dispute the ladle had overset the -soup, with sundry other little misadventures, incidental to an awkward -operator and an unsteady hand. - -It is perfectly well understood, that the worthy baronet had pledged -himself to his privy counsellor the huntsman for vigorous measures; -confessing to him, whilst assisting at his toilette, with the candour -natural to his character, that he was ashamed of hanging so long upon a -cold scent, and protesting, with a due degree of spirit, that he would -that very day either bring the trail to an entapis, or give up the -chace, and draw off; for which manly resolution he had all proper credit -given him by the partaker of his secrets, and the companion of his -sports. - -When the gentlemen had sate a reasonable time after the ladies had -retired, it was the custom of the house to adjourn to the drawing room, -where Cecilia administered the ceremonials of the tea-table. It was here -Sir Owen meditated to plant himself once more by her side, and bring his -fortune to a crisis; trusting that wine, which had fortified him with -courage, would not fail to inspire him with eloquence. High in hope, -and eager to acquit himself of his promise to his confidante at home, -upon entering the room he pushed his course directly for the tea-table, -where the cluster of candles and the dazzling gleams reflected from the -polished apparatus, there displayed in glittering splendor, so -confounded his optics, that without discovering the person of Mrs. -Philip De Lancaster, or computing distances so as to bring up in time, -he came foul of the tea-table, and discharged a part of the wreck with a -horrible crash into the lap of the aforesaid lady, whilst his head came -to the floor amidst the fragments of broken cups and sawcers with an -impunity, which no common head would probably have had to boast of in -the like circumstance. Dreadful was the consternation of the company, -most alarmingly critical were the screams and convulsive throes of the -unfortunate lady, whose lap was ill prepared to receive any such -accession to the burden, which it was already doomed to carry. The -consequences in short were so immediate, and their symptoms so decisive, -that had not Mr. Llewellyn been in attendance, and happily not quite so -tipsy as to be incapacitated from affording his assistance, the world -might have lost the pleasure of reading these adventures, and I the fame -of recording them. - -A couch being provided, and the lady laid at her length upon it, she was -carried up to her chamber, whilst the castle echoed with her piercing -screams. - -It would be treating this serious misadventure much too lightly, were I -only to remark that the love-scene in projectu was of necessity -adjourned by Cecilia’s leaving the company, and attending upon her -sister-in-law, whom a whole bevy of females under the conduct of the -sage Llewellyn followed up the stairs. We may well suppose, where one so -able was present to direct, and so many were assembled, ready either to -obey, or sagaciously to look on and edify, that every thing needful for -a lady in her critical situation was provided and administered. Every -visitor, whose recollection served to remind him that after such a -discomfiture the speediest retreat was the best compliment he could pay -to the master of the house, called for their horses and their carriages -to the great disappointment of their servants, who had not yet paid all -the honours to Saint David, that were by customary right Saint David’s -due. - -Sir Owen ap Owen, who had already taken some little time to recover his -legs, found himself still at a loss to recall his recollection. At -length, after contemplating the chaos he had created--By the Lord, -friend De Lancaster, he exclaimed, I have made a terrible wreck of your -crockery; but you should warn your housemaids not to dry rub your -floors, for they are as slippery as glass, and let a man tread ever so -carefully, a false step may throw him off his balance, and then who can -answer for the mischief he may do? I heard a terrible screaming, but I -hope, my good neighbour, nobody is hurt, and if your fair daughter, the -divine Cecilia, (so I always call her) is inconsolable about her china, -and if London can’t repair the loss, the East Indies shall, though I go -all the way to fetch it home for her myself; for though I know well -enough I have had a glass too much, and am but as you may call me a kind -of bear in a ball-room, yet I know what a gentleman ought to do, when he -has done mischief; and on the word of a true ancient Briton you may -believe me, that if I had undesignedly set fire to your house, I am no -such Hanoverian rat as to run away by the light of it: that is not my -principle. - -Your principle, my good friend, replied De Lancaster, nobody doubts, and -if your accident shall be productive of no other mischief than what has -happened to Cecilia’s tea-cups, Cecilia thinks no more of them than I -do. The screams you heard did not proceed from her-- - -No, no, cried Sir Owen, her sweet pipe never uttered such a shrill -veiw-hollah; so if she is safe from hurt and harm, all is well. ’Twas -an accident, as you say, and there’s an end of it. - -A servant now announced to the baronet, that his coach was at the door. -De Lancaster entered into no farther explanations, and his awkward guest -surrendered himself to the guidance of a coachman luckily not quite so -tipsey as his master. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_Conversation in a Library._ - - -When the wheels of Sir Owen’s coach had ceased from rattling over the -flinty pavement of the castle court, Robert De Lancaster glanced his -eyes round the room, and in a corner of it discovered his son Philip, -unnoticed of him before. Neither the cataract and confusion, that had -ensued upon Sir Owen’s tumble, nor the screams of a lady, in whose -safety he might be presumed to have some interest, had provoked this -disciple of Harpocrates to violate his taciturnity, or to stir from his -seat. At the same instant Colonel Wilson, a friend of the family, -entered, and brought tidings from the runners in the service of Mr. -Llewellyn, that things above stairs were going on as well as could be -expected. - -Then with your leave, Colonel, said the lord of the castle, we will -adjourn to my library, and there await the event. Upon the word Philip -started from his corner, ran to the door and held it open for his -father. A silent bow was interchanged at passing; the library was near -at hand: the chairs were set ready, the candles lighted and the three -gentlemen arranged themselves round the fire in their customary seats. - -I think, said De Lancaster, addressing himself to the colonel, amongst -all the extravagancies I have been betrayed into, there is none that -sits so light upon my conscience, as the passion I have had for -collecting books. - -They certainly are a source of pleasure, said the colonel, to the -readers of them. - -They cause great trouble to the writers, Philip answered in an under -voice, as if talking to himself. - -Colonel Wilson was a disabled officer, having lost a leg in the service, -and had now retired upon a sinecure government of twenty shillings per -day to a small patrimonial estate in the near neighbourhood of Kray -Castle: he was a few years younger than Robert De Lancaster, who had -now kept his sixtieth birthday. Wilson had two sons; the elder was in -the army, and the younger at the head of Westminster school: he was a -man of strict probity, good understanding and an excellent heart. These -were qualities, which De Lancaster knew how to appreciate as well as any -man, and though his studies and pursuits had been widely different from -those of the Colonel, yet he courted his company, and lived in perfect -harmony with him as his friend and neighbour. Wilson on his part was not -blind to the eccentricities of De Lancaster, but as they never disagreed -except upon points, that did not interest the passions, their disputes -were carried on without any mixture of acrimony, and only served to keep -the conversation amicably alive. - -Wilson had lived in the world; De Lancaster in study and retirement: the -latter would sometimes contend against assumptions, which to the former -appeared to be little less than self-evident; in the mean time De -Lancaster would oftentimes undertake to demonstrate paradoxes, that to -Wilson’s unsophisticated understanding seemed perfectly inexplicable: -these he was in the habit neither to admit, nor pertinaciously to -contest: if he had done the first, there would have been a speedy end to -the discussion; if he had pursued the latter course, there would have -been no end at all, for De Lancaster was not often in the humour to -recede from his positions. - -Philip De Lancaster on the contrary believed all things, and examined -none: he was a man of great faith and few words; by no means wanting in -curiosity, but extremely averse from enquiry and trouble. Being an only -son and heir to the wealthy house of De Lancaster, it was thought -adviseable by the fathers on each side, who were the contracting -parties, that he should take to wife Matilda, only child of old Morgan -of Glen-Morgan, and presumptive heiress to his fortune and estate. -Philip, who had shewn no ardour as a lover, was by no means remarkably -uxorious as a husband; and Matilda did not molest him with her fondness -or attentions: They lived in the same house as appurtenances to the -family at Kray Castle, (for such from time immemorial had been the -custom of the De Lancasters) and they lived without quarrelling; for -they were very little together; their passions were never roused by -contradiction, or enflamed by jealousy; the husband had no attachments, -and the wife, who was said to have been thwarted in her first love, laid -herself out for no future admirers. - -These few preliminary remarks may probably account for the placidity, -with which Philip now sate down in the library between his father and -the colonel to wait the issue of an event, in which if he did not -manifest a very lively interest, the reason very probably was, because -he did not feel it. - -Philip, (if his sage remark is in the recollection of the reader) had -risqued a truism, when he modestly suggested that it was a troublesome -task to write a book. Philip did not speak this from his own experience; -therefore it is, that I call his truism a risque, for it was not always -that his father gave his passport to assertions of that character; but -the learned gentleman’s thoughts were just then employed not upon the -trouble, that we take when we bring our works into the world, but the -trouble, which we give, when we ourselves are brought into it, and upon -this topic he began to descant, as follows. - -The unlucky accident, by which my blundering neighbour has precipitated -Mrs. De Lancaster into labour-pains, must in all probability tend to -aggravate and enhance those sorrows, in which by the condition of her -sex she is destined to bring forth; and indeed, independent of that -accident, I should not wonder if the pains she suffers, and the screams -she utters, were more than ordinarily acute and piercing, planted as she -now is, by adoption into my family, in the very stream and current from -the fountain head of the primæval curse-- - -Whereabouts are we now, said the colonel within himself? - ---Nevertheless, under the pressure of these apprehensions, I console -myself with the reflection, that if the general observation, that what -we produce with difficulty we are thereby influenced to preserve with -diligence, be true in all other cases, it will be also true in that of -child-bearing. If so, we may expect that the _storgee_, or natural -affection of my daughter-in-law towards her infant will be -proportionally greater than that of mothers, who shall have had easier -times. - -I see no grounds for that conclusion, replied the colonel. - -Surely, sir, resumed De Lancaster, you must have remarked, that in all -our operations, whether mental or manual, we are naturally most attached -to those on which most pains and labour have been expended. Slight -performances and slight opinions may be easily given up, but where great -deliberation has been bestowed, we are not soon persuaded to admit that -our time has been misspent and our talents misapplied. - -Certainly, replied Wilson, there are some points, upon which we ought -not to waver in our opinions, but there are many others, which it is not -worth our while to be too pertinacious in defending. In my profession we -must not quarrel with men for their caprices, so long as they are not -mischievously or impiously eccentric. It is not often we can find a -mess-room in the same way of thinking, except upon the question of -another bottle. - -In your profession, my good friend, resumed De Lancaster, (for which I -have all possible respect) the pliability you describe may be perfectly -in character, and much to be commended; for where differences are to be -adjusted by arguments, swords should not be admitted into the -conference. In my system of life I see no reason why I should be bound -to think with the majority; nay, I confess to you I am very ill inclined -to subscribe to popular opinions, unless upon strict investigation. - -Are they always worth it? said the colonel. - -I should think not, echoed Philip. - -Pardon me, exclaimed De Lancaster! So many things are assumed without -being examined, and so many disbelieved without being disproved, that I -am not hasty to assent or dissent in compliment to the multitude; and on -this account perhaps I am considered as a man affecting singularity: I -hope I am not to be found guilty of that idle affectation, only because -I would not be a dealer in opinions, which I have not weighed before I -deliver them out. Above all things I would not traffic in conjectures, -but carefully avoid imposing upon others or myself by confident -anticipation, when nothing can be affirmed with certainty in this mortal -state of chance and change, that is not grounded on conviction; for -instance, in the case of the lady above stairs, whose situation keeps -our hopes and fears upon the balance, our presumption is, that Mrs. De -Lancaster shall be delivered of a child, either male or female, and in -all respects like other children-- - -I confess, said Wilson, that is my presumption, and I should be most -outrageously astonished, should it happen otherwise. - -I don’t think it likely, murmured Philip. - -No, no, no, replied De Lancaster; but we need not be reminded how many -præternatural and prodigious births have occurred and been recorded in -the annals of mankind. Whether the natives of the town of Stroud near -Rochester are to this day under the ban of Thomas a Becket I am not -informed; but when, in contempt of that holy person, they wantonly cut -off the tail of his mule as he rode through their street, you have it -from authority that every child thenceforward born to an inhabitant of -Stroud was punished by the appendage of an incommodious and enormous -tail, exactly corresponding with that, which had been amputated from -the archbishop’s mule. - -Here a whistle from the colonel struck the auditory nerves of Philip, -who, gently laying his hand upon his stump, gravely reminded him that -Becket was a saint-- - -De Lancaster proceeded--- What then shall we say of the famous Martin -Luther, who being ordained to act so conspicuous a part in opposition to -the papal power, came into the world fully equipped for controversy; his -mother being delivered of her infant, (wonderful to relate) habited in -all points as a theologian, and (which I conceive must have sensibly -incommoded her) wearing a square cap on his head, according to academic -costuma. This, Colonel Wilson, may perhaps appear to you, as no doubt -it did to the midwife and all present at his birth, as a very -extraordinary and præternatural circumstance. - -It does indeed appear so, said the colonel. I know you don’t invent the -fable; I should like to know your authority for it. - -My authority, replied De Lancaster, in this case is the same as in that -of Becket’s mule; Martinus Delrius is my authority for both; and when we -find this gravely set forth by a writer of such high dignity and credit, -himself a doctor of theology, and public professor of the Holy -Scriptures in the university of Salamanca, who is bold enough to -question it? - -I am not bold enough to believe it, said Wilson. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_An Accession to the ancient Family of De Lancaster._ - - -When the good man of the house perceived that the Salamanca doctor and -his anecdotes only moved the ridicule of his friend Wilson, and even -staggered the credulity of his son Philip, he pursued the subject no -further, but wearied with the exertions and agitations of the day leaned -back in his easy chair, and fell asleep. The parties, that were still -awake, seemed mutually disposed to enjoy their meditations in silence, -till upon the Castle clock’s striking eleven, Philip appositely remarked -that it wanted but an hour to twelve-- - -And then, said Wilson, the first of March will have become the second of -March, so that if your boy don’t make haste into the world, saint -David’s day will be over, and he will not have the privilege of being -born with a leek in his bonnet, and Martin Luther will keep the field of -wonders to himself. - -The story is very extraordinary, said Philip; but do you think it is -true? - -Do I think it is true, replied Wilson, that this gentleman, (pointing to -a picture over the chimney) whom I take to be Icarus, came into the -world, as the painter has described him, with his wings at full stretch? -If you can give credit to the one, you may believe the other. - -I think the safest way is to believe neither, Philip observed; but the -gentleman you point at is not what you suppose: I believe he is some -King: It is a family piece, and my father can explain it to you. - -That I will do directly, cried the father, who had waked just in time to -hear what his son had been saying. The personage you enquire about is -not Icarus, but King Bladud of unfortunate memory, and the incident -being historically connected with the records of my family, I have had -the picture cleaned and repaired, and conspicuously hung, as you see, -over the chimney piece of my library. He with the wings is, as I told -you, King Bladud: He has miscarried in his experiment, and fallen to the -ground from the topmost pinnacle of the Temple of Apollo. The venerable -old man in the sacerdotal habit is the priest of Apollo, and the -Philosopher in the saffron-coloured mantle is my ancestor, the ingenious -contriver of the unlucky pinions. From him it is I date the privilege of -attaching wings to my more ancient bearing of the Harp, as you see it -displayed on the banners in the hall, and in sundry other parts of the -castle, with the appropriate motto underwritten--DUM CŒLUM PETO, CANTUM -EDO. - -Thank you, my good sir, said the colonel: I am perfectly satisfied. For -my own part I am contented to exhibit three cockle-shells on the handles -of my spoons, but where I picked them up, and how I came by them, I know -no more than the man in the moon, nor care. - -At this instant Cecilia entered the room, and, running up to her father, -joyfully announced the welcome entrance of our hero on this mortal stage -in the character of a lovely boy, adding in the usual phrase that the -mother was quite as well as could be expected. - -I rejoice to hear it; I rejoice to hear it, exclaimed the grandfather. -But, my dear Cecilia, are you quite certain that it is a boy? - -Dear sir, replied Cecilia, you wont suppose the people about my sister -can be deceived as to that. - -Why no, said De Lancaster, upon better recollection I presume they -cannot. - -Cecilia directed a congratulatory look to her brother, and nodding to -him, as she left the room, said, I give you joy, Philip, I give you joy -with all my heart. Philip received it with many thanks, and entertained -it with much composure. - -Reach me the family bible, son, said De Lancaster, and looked at his -watch, observing that it wanted half an hour of midnight. He thereupon -entered the day and hour of his grandson’s birth in the recording leaf -of the aforesaid holy book; observing, that he would postpone engrossing -the event into his pedigree roll till his attorney could attend for that -purpose--I confess, added he, it is more properly the office of my bard -David Williams, but as he, poor man, is blind, I shall wink at his -excusing himself from that branch of his duty. - -I don’t see how you can well do less, said the colonel. - -He will be christened John, continued the old gentleman, not attending -to the colonel’s remark: the links in the chain of my genealogy have -long been distinguished by the alternate names of John, Robert and -Philip, and the brightest of the three has fallen to his turn. The Johns -have been the heroes of the family: That was my father’s name; he was a -gentleman of the most punctilious honour, but he was killed in a duel -with a foreign officer, who happened to tread upon the train of my -mother’s gown in a ball-room. The Philips universally, without the -exception of my worthy son here present, have been lovers of their ease, -and my great-grandfather was very generally distinguished by the style -and title of Robert the Philologist: by manuscripts, which are now in my -possession, it appears, that he had been at considerable pains and study -in writing comments and annotations for a new and splendid edition of -the _Incredibilia_ of Palæphatus: This he did not live to complete, but -he is said more than once to have declared, that he would convince the -world, that Palæphatus told many more truths than he himself was aware -of. - -Perhaps Palæphatus atoned for it, said the colonel, by telling many -untruths, that he was aware of;--but is it not time to go to bed? - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_Our Hero pays his first Visit to his Grandfather. The congratulatory -Lay of the Minstrel._ - - -The next morning Robert de Lancaster rose with the sun. From the window -of his chamber he cast his eyes over that grand and beautiful expanse of -country, which the proud and lofty site of his castle overpeered. It was -the first sun, that had risen on his new-born hope, and the splendour, -which that glorious luminary diffused over the animating scenery under -his survey, was to a mind like his peculiarly auspicious and impressive: -his bosom glowed with pious gratitude to the Supreme Dispenser of those -blessings--It is too much, all-bounteous Being, he exclaimed, too much -for sinful man! I am not worthy of such goodness. - -He summoned his servant, and being informed that the night had passed -well with Mrs. De Lancaster, he desired the child might be brought to -him: his wish was speedily obeyed. He stood for some time intently -gazing on the countenance of his grandchild, and at length pronounced it -to be a perfect model of infantine beauty, open and ingenuous, every -thing in short that his warmest wishes could have pictured. - -I perceive, cried he, and can decypher the hand-writing of nature in the -expressive lineaments of this lovely babe: if God, who gave him life, -shall in his mercy give him length of days, he will be an honour to his -name and an ornament to his country. - -He is a sweet pretty puppet, said the nurse. - -Pooh! cried the prophet, I am not speaking of what he is, I am telling -what he will be. I prognosticate that he will be brave, benevolent, and -virtuous-- - -And handsome and tall and well-shaped, re-echoed the loquacious dame; -only look what fine straight limbs he has, pretty fellow! - -Take yourself away with him! cried De Lancaster in displeasure. You have -interrupted me with your chatter, and the continuity of those thoughts, -which spontaneously presented themselves, is no more to be resumed. - -The nurse departed, dancing the child in her arms, and prattling to it -in her way, unconscious of the offence she had committed, whilst De -Lancaster, pacing up and down his room, in vain attempted to find that -place in the book of fate, from which her untimely gabble had caused him -to break off--It is lost, said he to himself; I can only discern bright -gleams of virtuous happiness, but not unclouded, not without those -darkening shadows, that denounce misfortune.--Heaven forbid my father’s -fate should be this infant’s portion with my father’s name! - -He ceased; sate down, and, whilst the tear hung on his cheek, silently -put up an unpremeditated prayer. - -It was his custom every morning after he had dressed himself for the day -to be attended by his bard David Williams, and it was now the hour for -the old man to present himself with his harp at the door of his patron’s -chamber: whilst he was in it, all approach was interdicted; the mind of -De Lancaster seemed in a peculiar manner to sympathize with the melody -of the harp: he had not only a national predilection for that instrument -in common with his countrymen of the principality, but professed an -hereditary attachment to it as a true De Lancaster, whose ancestors had -worn it on their shields from the days of King Bardus. He had now heard -the signal, that announced the morning visit of his minstrel, but a -doubt struck him whether he could admit him to perform without hazarding -an infringement upon his own order for general silence throughout the -castle, as recommended by the sage Llewellyn: whilst pausing upon this -dilemma it luckily occurred to his recollection, that there was a piano -as well as a forte upon his favourite instrument, and furthermore, that -the apartment of his daughter-in-law was at the greatest possible -distance from his own; balancing these considerations in his mind, the -good man became satisfied upon the point in doubt so far, that David was -allowed to enter, and perform his morning serenade under suitable -restrictions. - -There was a stool, on which Williams always sate during his -performances, and an easy chair, in which the patron reposed himself, -and indulged his silent meditations. By signals audibly given, on the -arms of the aforesaid chair the blind musician was directed to modulate -the character and spirit of his movements, so as to correspond and -accord with the movements of the hearer’s mind. It was a communication -without language, perfectly well understood by the performer, who no -sooner heard the signal for soft music than he began a prelude so -exquisitely tender, that the strings only whispered under his fingers, -till at length being filled with the inspiration of his muse, he broke -forth extemporaneously into the following strains-- - - “Shine forth, bright sun, and gild the day, - “That greets our new-born hope with light! - “Give me to feel thy cheering ray, - “Tho’ these dark orbs are wrapt in night. - - “Yet Heav’n in pity hath allow’d - “These hands to wake the tuneful string, - “The muse her influence hath bestow’d, - “And taught her sightless bard to sing. - - “Sound then, my harp, thy softest strain, - “Melodious solace of the blind! - “Airs, that may heal a mother’s pain, - “And sooth a father’s anxious mind! - - “Hush, hush! for now the infant sleeps-- - “Let no rude string disturb its rest; - “And lo! instinctively it creeps - “To nestle at its parent breast. - - “Ah luckless me! these curtain’d eyes - “Shall never view its lovely face; - “I ne’er must see that star arise, - “The day-spring of an ancient race. - - “Father of life, in mercy take - “This infant to thy nursing care, - “And for the virtuous grandsire’s sake - “Oh! hear the humble minstrel’s pray’r! - - “Grant that this babe, as yet the last - “Of Lancaster’s time-honour’d name, - “When coming ages shall have past, - “May rank amongst the first in fame!” - -Thou hast sung well, David Williams, said the patron, as soon as the -harp had ceased, and I command thee to accept, and wear upon thy finger, -this antique beryl, upon which is engraved a head of the poet Homer, thy -prototype in melody not less than in misfortune. Thy muse, old man, -hath not been unpropitious: go thy way therefore, and cherish thy spirit -with the best flask of metheglin, that my cellars afford. I know it is -thy favourite Helicon, which at once gives nerves to thy fingers, and -nourishment to thy fancy. Get thee hence, blind bard, and be merry! - -Old David devoutly drew the ring on his finger, and with a profound -obeisance replied--I thank you and I bless you, my munificent patron. I -will drink prosperity to the illustrious house of De Lancaster and the -new-born heir thereof. It has stood from the time when the old world was -deluged, may it stand till the time when the new one shall be dissolved! - -With these words David took his leave and departed, whilst De Lancaster, -glowing with that pure sensation of refined delight, which music can -convey to its admirers, and blest in having now recruited his pedigree -with a new descendant from the loins of Noah, sallied forth for the -breakfast room, displaying on his stately person a new suit, after an -old fashion, of flaming full-trimmed scarlet, ornamented with enormous -gold-worked buttons, plentifully dispersed; a prodigious flowing -perriwig of natural hair sable as the raven’s plume, with rolled silk -stockings and high-topped square-toed shoes, which, resounding upon -every step of the oaken stairs as he descended, gave loud and early -notice of his approach to the personages assembled to receive him. - -Cecilia, Philip and Colonel Wilson in turn presented themselves, and -received his cordial embrace, for in his heart nature had implanted all -the warm affections of father and of friend, and in courtesy of manners -he was a sample of the chivalric ages; Llewellyn therefore was by no -means overlooked; his services were both highly praised, and liberally -repaid. Lawyer Davis also attended, being summoned for the purpose of -the enrolment. So many were the messages of enquiry from the neighbours -round the castle, that almost every servant and retainer belonging to -his houshold made an errand to present themselves and pay homage to -their good old master. Had pen, ink and paper been called for, there -would have been three domestics to have brought them in: in the mean -while it may be presumed that the more than usually profound respect, -with which they accompanied their devoirs, was in some degree owing to -the awe they were impressed with by the splendor, in which they saw him -now arrayed; and certain it is, if they needed any pardon for this -excess of reverence towards a mortal like themselves, the stately person -and commanding countenance of Robert De Lancaster were exactly such, as -in their predicament might serve for an apology: his stature was of the -tallest, but well-proportioned and erect; his frame athletic, but -without a trace of clumsiness or vulgarity; his voice, his action, his -address were all of that character, which seemed peculiarly adapted to -impose respect. Colonel Wilson, who had got secret intimation of this -brilliant sortie, which his friend was about to make, had brushed up his -epaulets, and turned out in full uniform for the occasion. - -Not so Sir Owen ap Owen, baronet, of Penruth Abbey, who, having been -told of the event as he had just turned his hounds into cover, instantly -galloped off to Kray Castle; and being now ushered into the room in his -hunting jacket and boots, exhibited a figure, which both in dress and -address was as perfect a contrast to that we have been describing, as -reality could present, or imagination feign. - -Cecilia took an early opportunity of saying she was upon duty and -withdrew: the rest of the company fell off one and one, and Sir Owen -found himself left with Mr. De Lancaster. - -What ensued will be related in the following chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_An importunate Visitor interrupts the Business of the Morning._ - - -It must be obvious to the well-bred reader, that this visit of Sir Owen -to the worthy owner of Kray Castle, though not exactly in form, was -nevertheless not out of place, considering what had passed in the -antecedent day. We may literally say that it was made upon the spur of -the occasion, and this we hope will be an apology for our introducing -the baronet in boots. Without doubt he was conscious that something more -was due from him than a simple enquiry could acquit him of, but the -happy turn things had taken, since his head came to the floor and our -hero into the world, relieved him in great part from his embarrassment: -the politeness of De Lancaster put him entirely at his ease, when -turning to Sir Owen, he said--I think, my good neighbour, as I am -indebted to you on my boy’s account for his early introduction into -life, there is nothing wanting to complete the favour but that you -should take some charge of him, now he is with us, and stand godfather -at the christening. - -To this the baronet made answer, that he should be ready to obey the -call, and was greatly flattered by it, adding with a significant smile, -that it was not his fault, if he had not by this time had the honour of -standing in a nearer relation to a grandson of Mr. De Lancaster than -that of godfather; to which the other as readily replied--Neither was it -his fault. - -This was so fair an opening, that Sir Owen could not miss it, and _upon -this hint he spake_. His speech, though not remarkable for its -eloquence, was extremely easy to be understood: he professed a very -sincere esteem and high respect for the amiable Cecilia: he would make a -very handsome settlement upon her, and add two horses to complete his -set, so that she should command her coach and six; he would new set the -family jewels, furnish the best apartments afresh, and build her a -conservatory: he would leave off smoking, take to tea in an afternoon, -and learn quadrille: he would move the dog-kennel to a greater distance -from his house, that the hounds might not wake her in a morning: he -would stand candidate for the county at the next election, and as soon -as he had taken his seat in parliament, and overturned the present -ministry, he did not doubt of being made a lord. He said he was well -aware of the lady’s high pretensions on the score of pedigree, but he -flattered himself he should have something to say on that head, when he -had looked into matters, and refreshed his memory; this he knew for a -fact--that old Robin ap Rees, his minstrel, had records to prove that -his ancestors, the Ap Owens, were not drowned in the general deluge, but -saved themselves with their goats on the tops of their mountains in -Merionethshire; and this should be made appear to the satisfaction of -Cecilia as clear as the sun at noon-day: he added in conclusion, that as -a mark of his respect for the name of De Lancaster, his second son -should bear it jointly with his own, coupled with another _ap_. - -These proposals being submitted, he wished to know if there was any -thing more, that could be required of him for the satisfaction and -content of the lady he aspired to. To this Robert De Lancaster gravely -answered, that certainly there was nothing wanting to complete his -wishes but her consent. - -Why that is what I have always intimated to her, cried the baronet, that -she had nothing to do but to say yes, and I was ready to strike hands -upon the word and clinch the bargain. When a thing can so easily be set -to rights, it is rather surprising to me, that she can hesitate about -it. - -Upon De Lancaster’s dropping a hint as to the seriousness of an -engagement for life, and that two opinions must coincide upon that -measure, Sir Owen very appositely observed, that it was mere loss of -time to spin out a business year after year, that could be finished in a -single minute. - -I grant you, my good friend, said De Lancaster, that Cecilia could do -more towards settling this affair in the space of one minute than you -and I could do in a twelvemonth, for she is absolutely her own mistress; -therefore with your leave we will turn it over to her, and when I have -next the honour to see you, I will engage you shall have an answer from -her own lips: let me only request you to receive that answer as -decisive, be it what it may; and for your own as well as for her repose -stir the question no more. - -So let it be! replied Sir Owen, and fit it is that so it should be; for, -take notice, I am getting on all this while, and she is not standing -still in life, so that for the sake of posterity we had best lose no -more time about it. If it is to be, the sooner it is done the better; -if it is not, why there must be an end of it; I must turn my horse’s -head, as they say, another way; and that puts me in mind that I have -left the hounds in cover, and, if they find, I shall be quite and clean -thrown out. - -Nothing in this life more likely, replied old Robert archly, and with -this answer, which cut two ways at once, the baronet, who just then -thought of nothing but his hounds, bustled out of the room, muttering to -himself--Huntsman will wonder what, the plague, has become of me. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_Some Men are more fond of telling long Stories than others are of -listening to them._ - - -When this inauspicious conference was over, and the subject matter left, -in the diplomatic phrase, _ad referendum_, Robert de Lancaster, who was -anxious to dispatch the more interesting business of the day, rang the -bell for his servant, and by him was informed that all parties were in -readiness to attend him to the audit-room, where, amongst other family -treasures, the record of his pedigree was kept in a vaulted casemate so -fortified, as to bid defiance both to force and fire. - -Accompanied by Cecilia, Philip, Wilson and Lawyer Davis, followed by the -nurse carrying the infant, and Williams, in his bardal habit, led by a -venerable domestic out of livery, he proceeded to the spot, and with his -own hands liberated the incarcerated roll. It was a splendid record, and -when spread out at full length exhibited several figures gaudily -emblazoned. Colonel Wilson, who had no great respect at heart, but much -gravity of countenance, whilst these ceremonials were in operation, -addressing himself to the master of the show, said--It is well, my good -friend, that you have stage room enough to display this fine -spectacle in perfection without putting any of your ancestors to -inconvenience--Then passing along till he came to the upper end of the -roll, where Japheth, son of Noah, conspicuously kept his post, and -pointing to a figure on the step next below him, he gravely asked who -that majestic personage might be in kingly robes, wearing a crown on -his head, and carrying a sceptre in his hand: Robert De Lancaster as -gravely replied, that it was Samothes, the first sovereign monarch of -this island, from him called Samothea.--Wilson bowed, and obtruded no -more questions. - -Whilst the ceremony of enrolment was in process--I record this infant, -said the grandfather, by the name of John, although he hath not yet -received the sacred rite of baptism, forasmuch as the _pronomina_ of -John, Robert and Philip have been successively adopted by my family from -the very earliest time of the Christian æra to the present--Write him -down therefore by the name of John. - -This being done in proper form by Lawyer Davis, and date annexed, blind -Williams gave a crowning twang upon his harp (for I omitted to premise -that he brought it with him) and in a loud and solemn tone chanted -forth--FLOREAT!--when our hero (unwillingly I record it to his shame) -set up such a dismal and most dolorous howl, as startled all the -hearers, but most of all his grandfather, who, struck with horror, cried -out to the nurse--Take him away, take him instantly away! Why would you -let him roar at this unlucky moment?--Bless your honour, said the -prating gossip, ’tis a sign of strength--A sign! repeated the sage; how -should you know of what it is a sign? Away with him at once! I would it -had not happened. - -As the cavalcade now marched away in solemn silence, Colonel Wilson, -halting on his wooden leg, whispered to Lawyer Davis, who was in the -rear--This is ridiculous enough, friend Davis, we must fairly confess; -but the harmless foibles of good and worthy men should not expose them -to our contempt. - -Amongst the many oddities (for I am loth to call them absurdities) that -marked the character of Robert de Lancaster, his pride of pedigree was -one of the most prominent and most open to ridicule. That his friend -Colonel Wilson saw it in this light there is no doubt; yet although he -was quite intolerant enough towards many of Robert’s eccentricities upon -speculative points, in this favourite folly he left him undisturbed, -perceiving, as we may suppose, that it was a prejudice not to be -attacked but at the risque of his friendship. This topic therefore had -never come into discussion, and even the history of the picture, lately -brought out of obscurity, was, as we have before observed, new to the -incurious colonel. He had seen the pedigree unrolled for the first -time, but of its contents he knew no more than what his single question -about King Samothes had drawn from De Lancaster in the way of -explanation. - -If Wilson acquiesced in this foible of his friend, none else amongst the -numbers, that were in habits of acquaintance with the family, were -likely to start any question as to the antiquity of it; they were so -cordially welcomed, and so hospitably entertained at Kray Castle, that -it would have been hard indeed upon their host, if they could have -swallowed nothing at his table but the dinner, that he put upon it. Add -to this, that the good old man was a patient listener to other people’s -anecdotes, though a deliberate narrator of his own. For all those -dealers in the marvellous, who are proverbially said to shoot a long -bow, he had a great deal of companionable fellow-feeling, and as he did -not hold the commonly received opinions of the world in very high -respect, he had boldly put together and amassed a curious and elaborate -collection, somewhat after the manner of Coryat, of what he styled his -_Confutations of vulgar Errors_. These have come under the inspection of -some people since his death, and though it must be owned that they are -not to be read without some few grains of allowance, yet there is a -sufficiency of novelty to make them entertaining, and good sense enough -interspersed to render them in a certain degree respectable. - -He there paradoxically asserts, (and I must believe it was his serious -opinion, for he was fond of repeating it amongst his intimates) that the -human understanding had been extremely narrowed and contracted, since -the art of printing had been discovered and carried into practice, for -that tradition was the mother of memory, and book-reading the murderer. -For modern history he had a sovereign contempt; he said it was a mass of -voluntary misrepresentations, and that no man could be trusted to write -the annals of his own time; strenuously contending, that it was from the -dark ages only we could strike out light to illuminate mankind. In the -early writers of the history of his own country he was profoundly -versed, and could adduce a host of authorities to prove that _Dominicus -Marius Niger_ and _Berosus_ were clearly warranted in their affirmations -that the island of Great Britain was as well and as fully stocked with -inhabitants long before the days of Noah, as any other country upon the -face of the globe. - -Upon all these topics Wilson had not much to say: he knew his friend was -in the habit of disputing points, which others took for granted, and -taking many for granted, which by others were disputed; he was therefore -well contented to let him talk his fill so long as he was only talking -for fame, resolved on his own part to take no more for truth than he saw -fit; and, being always able to prove what he himself asserted, what he -heard asserted without proof he did not hold himself always bound to -believe. - -He now perceived the time was come, when it would be no longer in his -power to parry the propensity so discoverable in his friend on this -occasion to treat him with a discussion on the antiquity of his family: -he was prepared to meet it, nay, he was just now disposed even to invite -it by some leading questions respecting the family bards, and the -authenticity of the facts by them recorded. - -This was every thing that De Lancaster could wish for: it was at once a -salvo for his vanity, and a challenge to his veracity. Assuming -thereupon a more than ordinary degree of solemnity, he said--It is not -to the bards alone that I am indebted for all I know of those, who have -borne my name before I was in the world, though much is due to their -correct and faithful records of the times they lived in. By my own -perseverance in keeping hold of the clue, which, by the help of _Joannes -Bodinus_, _Franciscus Tarapha_, _Wolfangus Lazius_, and other equally -illustrious authorities, hath led me to the fountain head of my -genealogy, I have at this moment the consolation to reflect, that when -that most incomparable personage Samothes, (first son of Japhet, who was -third son of Noah) was monarch, patriarch and legislator of this my -native island, I had an ancestor then living in it, who shared the -blessings of his government, was also nearly allied to him, and stood so -high in his favour and confidence, as to be appointed president and -chief teacher of theology in that celebrated college of philosophers -called Samothei, which both _Aristotle_ and _Secion_ affirm to have been -established in the days of this good king, and so called in honour of -his name: but not this school only, the whole island took its name after -this excellent king, and was for a course of years, till the arrival of -Albion, called Samothea, as both the learned _Bale_ and _Doctor Caius_ -concur in affirming--but perhaps to you, Colonel Wilson, these anecdotes -may be uninteresting; and, if so, I will pass them over. - -By no means, my good friend, replied the colonel, for be assured that -all these family facts, which you have collected, and Moses in his -history seems to have overlooked, are to me perfectly new and extremely -entertaining. - -Sir, resumed the narrator, Samothes was succeeded by his son Magus, from -whom the Persian Magi derive--(Wilson arched his eye-brows, as men are -apt to do on certain occasions)--and Sarron succeeded Magus, from whom -were derived a sect of philosophers amongst the Celtes, called -Sarronides. In the reign of Druis, continued De Lancaster, or, as -_Seneca_ writes it, Dryus, (which I take to be a corruption) my -ancestors transplanted themselves, together with the philosophers, -named after their sovereign Druids, into the isle of Anglesea, which, as -_Humphry Lloyd_ truly observes, was their chief place of abode, or, more -properly speaking, their pontifical headquarters. Bardus, the son of -Druis, succeeded to his father, and in his reign so famous was my then -existing ancestor for his performances on the harp, that we have ever -since borne that instrument by royal grant of this king as our family -coat of arms and crest. Now, let it be observed, added he, that many -families have coats of arms and crests, and can’t tell how they came by -them. - -That is true, said the colonel, and one of those am I; but I beg pardon -for interrupting you: I pray you to proceed. - -After a period of three hundred and ten years, the Celtes being subdued -by Albion the giant, and this island subjected to his dominion, he -changed its name of Samothea to that of Albion. This same Albion the -giant was, as every body knows, the fourth son of Neptune-- - -I am proud to hear it, cried the colonel, but I protest to you it is the -first I ever heard of him, or any of his family: I can now account for -our superiority in naval affairs; and I most heartily hope that the -trident, which this son of Neptune inherited from his father, shall -never in any time to come be wrested from his posterity of this island. - -I hope not, replied De Lancaster; but I proceed with my narrative--Upon -the landing of Brute with his Trojans, (which was not above three -thousand years ago) I find it asserted by _Master Henry Lyte of -Lytescarie_, that this island was no better than a rude and barren -wilderness, _ferarum altrix_, a nursery for wild beasts, as he -slightingly denominates it; but I must take leave to tell that learned -antiquary, that his history, which he proudly styles _The Light of -Britain_, might more properly be called The Libel upon Britain; for I -will neither give credit to his lions, which he presumes to say overran -the island, nor implicitly acquiesce in his monstrous white bulls, with -shagged manes and hairy foreheads, forasmuch as I find no mention of -them in our King Edward the First’s letters to Pope Boniface, wherein -this very point of the landing of Brute in Albion is very learnedly -discussed. As for his lions, I treat that fable with contempt, for, -besides that King Edward does not mention them, I will never believe -there could have been one in the whole island, else how came King -Madan, the grandson of this very Brute, to be killed and devoured by -wolves in a hunting match, when it has been notorious from all time, -that the wolf will fly from the hunter, that has anointed himself with -lion’s tallow? Will any man suppose that the royal sportsman could have -failed taking that obvious precaution, had there been but a single ounce -of the fat of that animal in the whole kingdom? - -Nobody will suppose it, said Wilson, and I am satisfied there were no -lions for the reason you assign: I must beg leave to doubt also if there -was any authority for his enormous white bulls, provided you are quite -sure that King Edward does not hint at them in his correspondence with -the Pope: but have we not lost sight of your ancestors amongst these -lions and the bulls? - -Not so, replied De Lancaster, for upon the partition, which Brute made -of the kingdom between his three sons Locrine, Camber and Albanact, my -family is found in the Cambrian district upon the very spot, where Kray -Castle now stands; which will warrant me in saying without vanity that -few land-holders in the island can boast a longer tenure in their -possessions, this being not above sixty-six years after the taking of -Troy, and eleven hundred thirty and two years before the Christian æra. - -That is quite sufficient, said the colonel: few post-diluvian families -can produce a better title. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_The Narrative is interrupted by the Arrival of a Letter from old Morgan -of Glen Morgan._ - - -It is not always the greatest misfortune, that can befal the listener to -a long story, if the teller shall chance to be called off in the middle -of it. This was just now the case with Robert De Lancaster, who had -advanced in his narrative but a very few years on this side of the -Trojan war, when the arrival of the servant, whom he had dispatched with -his letter of congratulation to old Morgan of Glen-Morgan, cut him short -in his progress, and it probably required as much philosophy on his part -to command his patience, as it did on Wilson’s to conceal his pleasure. - -However this might be, De Lancaster upon the receipt of Morgan’s answer -to his letter, came to an immediate pause in his story, and leaving -about three thousand years of his pedigree as yet unaccounted for, read -as follows-- - - “Dear Sir, - - “Your servant duly delivered your kind letter, informing me, that - my daughter Mrs. Philip De Lancaster was safely delivered of a son; - an event, which I hope will afford much consolation to you, and be - the happy means of delivering down to future generations a name, - which from time immemorial has been highly respectable in these - parts. - - “To my name as one of the sponsors at the christening you have an - undoubted right, and I am flattered that you enforce it; but of my - personal attendance upon that solemnity there is I fear but little - chance; for I am a victim to the gout, and though the snow, which - now lies on the hills, may disappear before the month is out, I - cannot expect my pains will be in the like melting mood: but He, - who is the disposer of all things, will dispose even of such a - wretched insignificant as I am. - - “Alas! my good brother-in-law, I am not like you a healthy, gay and - social man; I am gloomy, sullen and uncomfortable; hypochondriac by - nature, and splenetic by vexation and disease: I will not say that - I repent that ever I was a father; that would be wrong; but I do - say, that, being a father, I repent of my unfitness, and am - conscious of my errors. - - “One only child, whom we jointly call our daughter, was all that - Providence entrusted to me: her mother died when she was an - infant, and I never ventured on a second marriage. I did not seek - for teachers to instruct me how to educate my child: I took that - task upon myself, and was her only master: I coveted not to - accomplish her as a fine lady; I studied to implant good principles - in her heart, and make her an honest, honourable woman. I suspect - my discipline was too rigid, for I totally overlooked amusement, - and fixed a melancholy upon her spirit, accompanied with so - absolute a submission to my dictates, that she seemed to think and - act without any will or option of her own. - - “When you tendered to me your alliance, I embraced it with ardour; - for I held your character then, as I do to this day, in the highest - honour and respect. Had ambition been my ruling passion, I could - have looked up to nothing in point of family of superior dignity; - had avarice been my vice, how could I have gratified it more than - by marrying my daughter to the only son and heir of De Lancaster? - Your son was comely, courteous, unassuming, and though perhaps not - prominently marked with any brilliant gleams of genius, yet - certainly in moral purity no young man bore a more unblemished - character. I recommended the connection to my daughter--warmly, - anxiously recommended it--Implicitly, without appeal, in a concern - the most material she accorded to my wish, and answered at the - altar to the awful question there repeated as compliantly as she - did, when I first proposed it to her. - - “Now, sir, when I disclose to you that this too duteous creature - had conceived a passion, which under the terror of my authority - she had not courage to discover, judge what my sorrow and remorse - must be. I have, though unintentionally, made a wreck of her peace, - and endangered that of your son. I may have brought into your - family a wife without a heart for her husband, and a mother, (which - Heaven avert!) without natural affection for her offspring. - - “Thus I have laid the sorrows of my soul before you, and beseech - you, that, with the candour and benignity, which are natural to - you, you would look upon my child, and without revealing my secret - to your son, influence him to be mild with her, in her present - situation more especially; and this I am confident will engage her - gratitude, though I dare not promise if will gain her love. - - “I was about to conclude with my love and blessing to the mother - and her babe, but upon reading over what in the confusion of my - thoughts I have so ill put together, I find I have omitted to tell - you, who the young man is, of whom I have been speaking. His name - is Jones, a gentleman by birth, but destitute of fortune. He was - ensign, and on a recruiting party at Denbigh, where I noticed him - for his modest manners and engaging person; having withal known his - father Colonel Jones, and served with him in the same regiment when - I was in the army, I invited this youth to make my house his - quarters, became very fond of him, and furnished him with means to - purchase a lieutenancy. I have nothing to charge him with; his - conduct towards my daughter was honourable in the extreme, and I am - informed that it was his punctilious delicacy towards me as his - patron, that occasioned him to secede, when she probably would have - summoned resolution to have laid the state of her heart before me; - which had she done, if I know myself, I know she would have had her - lover, and Jones would have had my estate. - - I have the honour to be, - Dear Sir, &c. &c. - JOHN MORGAN.” - -The perusal of this melancholy letter made a deep impression on the -feeling heart of De Lancaster: he pondered on its contents for some -time, and began to arrange his thoughts for answering it in a -consolatory manner. When he had written a few lines, he laid down his -pen, and said within himself--How much better might all this be stated -face to face in person than upon paper! He is ill, poor man, and unable -to come to me; I am in health, and will go to him; he cannot fail to -take my visit kindly, and the face of a friend is cheering, when the -spirits are depressed. I will act towards him, as I, in his -circumstances, should wish and expect him to act towards me. It is but -about four hours drive, and I can be home the next morning: if the roads -are passable, ’twill be a pleasant jaunt, for the weather is now fine, -and promises a fair day to-morrow. - -Having settled this point to his kind heart’s content, the good man rang -his bell, and summoned his servant, who had been to Glen-Morgan, to make -his report of the roads. - -Were they practicable for the coach to pass with safety? The coach -might pass in perfect safety, for though the snow laid on the -mountains, the road was clear, and he saw no danger. The report was -satisfactory; the servant was dismissed, and the coachman summoned: upon -enquiry made as to matters within his department, every thing thereunto -appertaining, horses and carriage, were ready for the start. Cecilia was -now called into council, and the important project was announced to her: -It occasioned some surprise to her at first on account of its uncommon -spirit and vivacity, but she gave it no opposition, nor even moved the -previous question--The kindness of the motive, and care for her dear -father’s safety, occupied her gentle thoughts:--Were the roads safe, and -would he go alone? The roads were safe, and as he wished to have some -private talk with his brother Morgan upon family affairs, he would go -alone, and return to her on the next day. - -It was resolved: the grand affair was settled: the solemn fiat was -announced; the note of preparation was sounded through all the lower -regions of the castle, and echoed through the range of stables--Our -master goes to-morrow to Glen-Morgan, and will stay out a whole night! - -When tidings of this extraordinary event were announced to Colonel -Wilson, he was in the common parlour, and had sate down to chess with -Mr. Philip De Lancaster, who took much content in that narcotic game, of -which however he scarce understood a single principle. Going to -Glen-Morgan, cried Wilson! this is news indeed: I am astonished.--I am -cheque-mated, said Philip; I cannot move a man.--By Heavens! but I am -moved with pleasure and surprise, exclaimed Wilson, to hear that your -good father meditates a visit to Glen-Morgan.--It is not above twenty -miles, said the other, and the coach is easy; he may sleep in it all the -way.--The devil he may, rejoined Wilson: You might as well expect the -coachman to fall asleep.--That is not impossible, said Philip, he is -very fat and drowsy. But now I think of it, I’ll go and angle for some -perch: I shall like to send my father-in-law a few fish of my own -catching. - -Do so, cried Wilson: you can stand still and catch them.--With these -words he stumped out of the room, and turning into the library, where De -Lancaster was sitting--I come to congratulate you, said he, as he -entered, upon the resolution you have taken. It will warm the heart of -my old friend Morgan to be flattered with a visit from the man in all -the world he most esteems and honours. - -If it will give him any pleasure, I shall not regret my pains. - -It will, be assured, repeated Wilson. I have a letter from him by your -messenger full of sighs and groans: I don’t much heed them; for it is -his humour to deal in the dolefuls, and set himself off in the worst -light he can possibly devise: for instance, he tells me here, that his -temper, which was always execrable, is now worse than ever; and that he -is grown so touchy, that even the parson won’t trust himself to a hit at -backgammon with him. This is about as true as the account he gives of -his house-keeping, which I know is liberal to excess, but which he -represents as rascally in the extreme; pretending to say, that through -mere covetousness he has made a potatoe garden of his pleasure ground, -turned his coach-horses into the straw yard, and lowered the quality of -his Welch ale, till his servants are in mutiny, and his parishioners -consulting about hanging him in effigy. - -Is all this true? De Lancaster asked. - -Not any of it, Wilson replied. His poor neighbours are more disposed to -worship him in effigy, than to hang him. He may have planted his grounds -with potatoes, and turned his idle horses out to fodder, for I dare say -this hard winter has made havoc of his stores, as he tells me that he is -screwing up his farmers in revenge for their want of mercy to their -necessitous neighbours; but as for his covetousness, I give no credit to -that; on the contrary I happen to know that he has just now paid down -the purchase money of a company for a young officer in the line, in no -degree related to him, or indeed connected with him. - -Is Jones the name of that young officer? - -It is. - -Gallant, glorious old man! How I reverence him for the action! How I -honour him for his benignity! I would go to do him service, or to give -him pleasure, though I were to walk thither on foot. - -I perceive you know something of this Jones. - -If you do perceive it, you will not need to be informed of it by me: and -now as I also perceive you are in the secret of my visit, I hope you -will consent to accompany me to-morrow, and then Cecilia’s mind will be -at rest. - -To put her mind at rest, said Wilson, where would I not go? How -willingly then shall I accompany you upon a friendly errand to a worthy -man like Morgan! - -Agreed! cried De Lancaster, and now I am in good humour with myself for -thinking and resolving on this visit. - -Let me profit by your good humour then, rejoined the colonel with a -smile, and let me hear the remainder of your genealogy; for we have -turned our backs upon the Trojan war, and are drawing near to modern -history, when, according to your doctrine, truth becomes darkened, and -we get into the regions of deception; which I shall not be sorry for, as -I confess there is ever more amusement for me in a harmless pleasant -fiction, than in a dry uninteresting matter of fact. - -What answer De Lancaster gave to this appeal will be found in the -following chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -_The Narrative is resumed and concluded. A learned Lecture upon Harmony, -by which the unlearned hearer is not greatly edified._ - - -Since you make so polite a tender of your patience, said De Lancaster, -to me, who have already put it to so hard a trial, I must resume my -narrative from the landing of Brute and his Trojans, when my ancestors -established themselves on this very spot, I do not say in this very -castle, under Camber, the second son of the aforesaid Brute. -Lud-Hurdibras was the grandson of Camber, and King Bladud was the son of -Hurdibras: he built, as is notorious to all the world, the city of -Bath, and was the projector of those salubrious baths, that _William of -Malmsbury_ would fain ascribe to Julius Cæsar, which I pronounce to be -an egregious anachronism, and you may take it _meo periculo_. - -I take it at my own peril, said the colonel; for I have seen Bladud -himself with these very eyes standing centinel over the bath of his own -making, and I never met with any body hardy enough to dispute his title -to it. - -Let it pass then! He was a benefactor to mankind by the institution of -those baths, and might have been more eminently so, had his opinion upon -the practicability of men’s flying in the air been established upon -experiment. I confess there is much plausibility in the project, but I -am also aware of some difficulties attending it, which merit -consideration. I do not say it may not be achieved, but I am not -prepared to recommend the undertaking to any friend, whose life is of -immediate consequence to his family. - -It would be a famous lift, said the wooden-legged warrior, to people in -my mutilated predicament; and though I am not quite disposed to the -experiment myself, any body else, who is so inclined, will have my good -wishes. - -That was exactly the language, cried De Lancaster, of King Bladud’s -courtiers, and the learned men of the time. They unanimously declared -that many notable discoveries might be struck out in astrology, which -was the reigning study of the day, if men would fly up high enough to -look after them; but they were not impatient to be amongst the first to -fly upon those discoveries. My ancestor however, who was then about the -person of the king, and an enthusiastic admirer of the sublime and -beautiful, went a step beyond them all, and actually contrived a very -ample and becoming pair of artificial wings, which in the judgment of -the very best mechanics then living promised all possible success to the -experiment. Upon their exhibition in presence of the sovereign and of a -committee specially appointed, so charmed was King Bladud with the skill -displayed in their construction, that he was graciously pleased to -authorize and empower the inventor himself to make trial of his own -pinions, with free leave to fly as far and as high as he saw fit, and to -perch at discretion wherever it might suit him, the chimney tops and -lattices of the chambers even of the maids of honour not excepted. - -Happy man! cried Wilson; this was a roving commission of a most tempting -sort, and I hope your ancestor had too much gallantry to hesitate about -embracing it. - -I beg your pardon, replied De Lancaster, my ancestor was not a man of -that forward character as to aspire to situations, that ought to be -above the ambition of a subject, but when this flattering offer was with -all becoming thankfulness most modestly declined, King Bladud himself -(as my ancestor no doubt foresaw) had the aforesaid wings fitted to his -royal shoulders; ascended the roof of the temple of Apollo (at that time -the loftiest edifice in the city of Troy-nouvant) and launching himself -into the air confidently, as became a prince so sagacious and -philosophical, committed his sacred person to the protection of Apollo -and the artificial supporters, which promised him so delicious an -excursion. Whether the fault was in the wings themselves, or in King -Bladud’s want of dexterity in the management of them, is not for me to -determine; but history puts it out of doubt that the attempt was fatal -to the adventurous monarch. He fell headlong on the steps of the temple, -(as you see in the picture fronting you) and was dashed in pieces in the -twentieth year of his reign, and the two hundred and twentieth from the -landing of Brute. All the world believed my ancestor a lost man, but -Lear, son of Bladud and heir to his kingdom, being a prince of a most -noble nature, and sensible to whom he was indebted for his so early -elevation to the throne, rewarded the artificer of his father’s pinions -by empowering him to affix them to his armorial bearing of the harp, and -from that hour to this the harp of the bard between the wings of Bladud -has been the proper and distinguishing shield of the De Lancasters, as -not only the records of the herald’s office, but the head of every spout -appertaining to the castle, can testify and evince. - -The spouts alone would satisfy me, said the colonel, but the heralds and -the spouts together are authorities incontestible; but since you have -named Lear, I should wish to know if he is that very Lear, who, -according to the drama of our poet Shakespear, having parted his kingdom -between his two ungrateful daughters Gonerill and Regan, ran mad upon -the reflection of his own folly for having done it. - -For his madness, replied De Lancaster, there is no authority. He -bestowed his eldest daughter Gonerill in marriage to Henuinus, Duke of -Cornwall, and Regan to Maglanus, Duke of Albania. His youngest daughter -Cordelia, who was justly his favourite, married Aganippus, prince of -Gallia, and succeeded to the crown at Lear’s death, being the first of -her sex, who had ever borne the title of queen absolute and governess of -Britain. After the decease of Aganippus she fell a victim to the malice -of her nephews Cunedagius and Morgan, sons of her unworthy sisters, and -being thrown into prison by them, died, after a reign of only five -years, by her own hand. The usurpers, who at first agreed to divide the -empire, soon rose in arms against each other, and Morgan was slain in -Cambria by Cunedagius, where the place of his death is yet called -Glen-Morgan, or Morgan’s Land, now in the possession of the friend, to -whom we meditate to-morrow’s visit.--But I am hastening to release you, -and conclude my narrative--The line of Brute, the Trojan, ended in the -year 3476 with Ferrex and Porrex, sons of old King Gorbodug, who swayed -the sceptre through a period of sixty and two years. During the whole -time of the Pentarchy, that took place upon the decease of the -abovenamed sons of Gorbodug, my family appear to have kept close in -their Cambrian retirement, till the reign of Mulmutius Dunwallo, -immediately subsequent to the Pentarchy. It was then that a learned -ancestor of mine assisted Mulmutius in compiling that incomparable code -of laws, which being turned into Latin from the British language by -Gildus Priscus, was in time long after translated into English by the -great King Alfred, and by him incorporated amongst his famous -statutes.--And now, my good friend, as I have always determined to have -nothing to do with modern history, I here wind up my long detail, -congratulating myself that those, from whom I trace my blood, had the -good sense to keep close in their quarters in Cambria upon the landing -of the Romans, never deigning to mix or intermarry either with them or -the Picts, who came with Roderic A. D. 73, or with the Saxons, who first -entered the land A. D. 390, or with the Danes in the time of Egbert, -much less with the Normans in a more recent period, but remained pure -and unadulterated from the days of Samothes, the grandson of Noah, to -the present moment, in which I have the honour of thanking you for the -attention, you have been pleased to bestow upon a detail, which I fear -has been extremely tedious and unentertaining to you throughout. - -Assure yourself, my good sir, replied Wilson, that the attention I have -bestowed on your narrative has been amply repaid by the entertainment I -have received from it. You have given me a history of my native country, -which in many parts was perfectly new to me, and if it had had no -concern whatever with your genealogy, still it would have been -interesting to me, who have never thought, nor had the curiosity to -enquire, about the annals of a time so very distant. That you have -authorities for what you have narrated I cannot doubt, for I am sure you -are incapable of a voluntary fiction, which, if any such there is, must -rest with others, not with you. As for the gratification you may derive -from the persuasion, that you can trace your descent from the son of -Noah, and by consequence, through Noah, even from Adam himself, grace -forbid I should attempt to lessen it, persuaded as I am, that you have -too much consideration for Moses to enlist with the Pre-Adamites. At the -same time I am free to own, that my respect for you, being founded on -the virtues of your character, receives little addition from the -circumstances of your pedigree; let me not however be considered as an -abettor of plebean sentiments; I acknowledge a degree of prejudice for a -well-born gentleman, and so long as you display the wings of King Bladud -only on the shoulders of King Bardus’s harp, I look with respect upon -your ancient banners; and henceforward when blind David Williams shall -make your castle hall resound with his melodious harp, I shall recollect -with pleasure that you have not only a natural delight, but also an -hereditary interest, in that noble instrument. I am myself a lover of -music; but it is a love without knowledge, for I neither know the -practice, nor ever studied the theory of it. I like this tune, and I -can’t tell why; I don’t like that, and can assign no reason for it. If -music only creates surprise in me by the wonderful execution of a -performer, I scarcely wish to hear it above once; if it moves my -passions, and elicits (as it sometimes will) my tears, I could listen to -it, as I may say, for ever; no repetition can exhaust the charm. What -this is I cannot define, and for that very reason I suppose it to be -nature; for art admits of explanation, but there is no logic, that -applies to instinct. - -This was an unlucky remark, and the colonel stepped a little out of his -natural character when he risqued it: had he kept clear of definitions, -and said nothing about instinct, he might have escaped a lecture on the -Harmonics, which now became unavoidable, and he heard himself addressed -as follows-- - -You discern correctly, my good colonel, as to effect, not so as to -cause. You say there is no logic, that applies to instinct; I say there -is no instinct, that applies to rationality: the brute creation is -submitted to it, and directed by it; man must not offer to degrade his -virtues, or defend his vices, by a reference to instinct: the plea of -impulse will not save the criminal; for there are no propensities, which -reason may not conquer. From what you tell me I perceive that you -understand as much of music as ninety-nine in a hundred, who affect to -profess it, and more than many, who profess to teach it, forasmuch as -you feel it: now as there can be no effect without a cause, depend upon -it, there is a reason why you feel exactly in the manner you describe, -and in no other, though to investigate that reason, and intelligibly -describe it to you, cannot be done without a more intimate knowledge of -the constituent properties and powers of music, than falls to many -people’s lot to attain. To descant upon these at present would take up -more time than either of us would perhaps find convenient to devote to -it. I will postpone it to a better opportunity, when I flatter myself I -shall be able to relate to you so many striking instances of the -astonishing powers of harmony, as will set that sacred science in a -stronger and a clearer light, than you may be as yet aware of. Believe -me, it is one of the sublimest studies, that the human faculties can -embrace. The systems, that have come down to us from the Greek and Roman -harmonists, as well as all that has been written by the moderns on that -subject, are above measure difficult, elaborate and recondite-- - -Then I shall never understand them, said the colonel, nor desire to have -any thing to do with them. - -Pardon me! resumed De Lancaster: If leisure now served, I could give you -specimens of the pains I have taken in the way of illustration, not only -with the learned treatise of _Vincentio Galilei_, a noble Spaniard, -published in the year 1581, but also with the Satyricon of _Martianus -Capella_, as edited and illustrated by the celebrated Grotius in his -early years. Permit me to say that I could give you the scale, and mark -out to you the distinct semitones of _Quarlino_, _Giovanni Bardi_, and -_Pierro Strozzi_. This would be demonstration, that could not fail to -edify, and at the same time I would adduce such evidence, as should -prove to you that my ancestorial harp was the very prototype of that, -which _Epigonus_ of _Ambracia_ was said to have played upon with forty -strings, when he first taught the Sicyonian minstrels to lay aside the -plectrum, and employ their fingers in the place of it: when _Julius -Pollux_ therefore gives this new-constructed harp the name of Epigonium -in honour of Epigonus, it is a mere trick, after the custom of the -Greeks, to arrogate all originality to their countrymen, and defraud my -ancestor of his prior title to give name to his own invention. In like -manner I can detect their plagiarism, when they ascribe the invention of -the double-headed plectrum to Sappho, whilst I have models still in my -possession, that prove it to have been the very identical plectrum in -general use, when my ingenious ancestor struck out a better practice. I -am therefore very naturally interested to prevent my ancestorial harp -from being confounded with the seven-stringed lyre, ascribed by Homer to -Mercury, of which the testudo formed the sounding-board; much less would -I have it mistaken for that delineated by _Hyginus_ with crooked arms, -and least of all with the suspicious model in the museum of the Medici. - -All this, my dear sir, said the colonel, I should be extremely delighted -with, were I capable of understanding it; but alas! how should I, who -was never accustomed to admire any thing above the crash of a regimental -band, comprehend a single word of what you have been saying to me? That -I am capable of preferring one tune before another is all I pretend to, -but to assign any reason for that preference is what I do not pretend -to. - -Yet there is a reason, resumed De Lancaster, and that reason is not -inscrutable to all, because not enquired into by you. That _tones_ have -power over the human feelings will not be disputed; but tones have -different properties, and of course different operations: the one, -entire, full and legitimate _tone_ contains within itself a variety of -divisional parts, by the expression and application of which various -passions may be excited, and various effects produced. The full tone -may be resolved into the half-tone, or _hemitonium_; the half-tone into -the quarter-tone, or _diesis_; neither does its divisibility stop here, -for the diesis may be again resolved, first, into its proper -quarter-tone, or _tetartemoria_, which be pleased to observe, is also -called _enarmonios_; secondly, into its third of a tone, or -_tritemoria_, (which by the way is the true chromatique) and thirdly and -lastly, into a tone, which involves a third part of a full tone and half -a third, and this is called _hemiolia_--And now, my good friend, having -given you some insight into the various combinations and resolutions of -musical tones, according to the system of the Greek writers on the -harmonics, (which, though briefly stated, cannot fail to be perfectly -clear to your comprehension) I think I may trust you to discover the -reason, why certain modulations and assortments of tones are pleasing to -you, and others not. These are the elements of all harmony, and as you -are now fully possessed of the definition of them, you cannot possibly -find any difficulty in the application. - -I am under no difficulty at all, cried the colonel, in finding out when -I am pleased, and that being the only discovery I have any concern in, I -will trouble you no further to explain to me why I am pleased, but take -your word for having given me the true reason, and be content. - -Here the lecture ended as many lectures do: the expounder was perfectly -satisfied with the instruction he had imparted, and the disciple was -entirely reconciled to remain in ignorance of what he did not wish to -understand. - -At this moment Cecilia opportunely entered the room, and the -recollection of Sir Owen’s proposal instantly occuring to her father, he -desired to have a little private talk with her, and Wilson on the hint -withdrew. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -_The last in the Book. The Author presents Cecilia De Lancaster to his -Readers, and trusts that he exhibits no unnatural, or ideal, Character._ - - -Cecilia De Lancaster, of whom I am about to speak, was now in her -twenty-ninth year, and three years younger than her brother Philip, -father of our hero John. I have already said, that, since her father -had been a widower, she had persisted in devoting her attention to him, -and to the superintendance of his household. - -Convinced that she possessed his entire affection, and sensible that his -happiness in a great degree depended upon her, she had hitherto -withstood every overture for changing her condition. The harmony, -typified in her name, was realized in her nature: it was manifested and -expressed in every movement, every feature of her mind, her temper and -her person. Time, that had robbed her of the freshness of her bloom, had -repaid her by maturing and improving charms more permanent, endowments -more attractive. There was a smile, so characteristically her own, that -it was hard to conceive it could ever be bestowed without being felt, -and, such was her discernment, that perhaps it was very rarely bestowed -where it was not deserved. Her eyes were the genuine interpreters of her -heart: when turned upon the poor or afflicted, they melted into -compassion; when directed towards her friends, they glistened with -affection; when uplifted towards her God, their expression might be -called divine. Her voice came upon the ear like music--There is a -passage in a letter written by our hero to one of his friends, that -describes it in the following terms. “It is,” says he, “of so sweet a -pitch, that, whensoever it is heard, I am struck with wonder how it -comes to pass, that others do not tune their voices to it: for my own -part I may say, that my first efforts of articulation were instinctively -in unison with her tones; and therefore it is, that I have never -entered into argument with loud and boisterous speakers, or elevated my -voice to the annoyance of any man’s ears, since I have been admitted -into society.” - -Such was Cecilia De Lancaster, who now in that sweet voice, which we -have been describing--(Oh that ye would imitate it, ye tuneless -talkers!) requested her father to impart to her his commands, not -unaware that they most probably referred to his interview with her -importunate admirer Sir Owen ap Owen, baronet, of Penruth Abbey. - -This conjecture was soon confirmed by the recital, which her father now -gave of the baronet’s proposals; he stated them as advantageously for -the proponent, as the case would admit of: his family and fortune were -unexceptionable; he saw no objection to him on the score of temper; he -had the character of being a kind master, an easy landlord and a -hospitable neighbour: it must be owned that the good man was not -overstocked with wit or learning, but he had no conceit or -self-sufficiency to betray him into attempts, that might subject him to -ridicule: his pursuits were not above the level of his understanding, so -that upon the whole he thought his friend Sir Owen might pass muster -with the generality of country gentlemen. - -I think of him, said Cecilia, exactly as you do; his pursuits are suited -to his understanding, and his manners are suited to his pursuits: these -are easily counted up, for they consist in little else but his hounds -and his bottle: I can partake of neither; my happiness centers in the -consciousness of possessing the good opinion and affection of my -beloved father: That blessing I enjoy at home; I need not run to Penruth -Abbey in pursuit of it; ’tis here, and ever present whilst I am with -you. As for Sir Owen’s addresses, he has repeated them so often for the -last five years, and has so constantly received the same answer, that I -must suppose he now compliments me with his proposal rather from habit, -than with any serious idea, that it can avail. As a neighbour I shall be -glad to see Sir Owen, even at the tea-table, provided he is sober, but -as a lover I hope to see no more of him, and I flatter myself I shall -not; especially should a certain lady arrive, whom I understand he is -expecting at the Abbey. - -Upon De Lancaster’s asking who that lady was, Cecilia informed him that -she was the widow of his brother David, the Spanish merchant, lately -deceased. This lady she understood to be a native of Spain, and that she -was bringing with her from Cadiz a boy, the nephew of Sir Owen, and of -course presumptive heir to his estate and title. Judge then, added she, -if some address will not be employed by Mrs. Owen to keep her son in the -succession, and if my poor lover has nothing but his Welch wits to -oppose to her Spanish finesse, it is easy to conjecture what turn the -politics of Penruth Abbey are likely to take. - -Well, cried the father, it was my part to make good my promise to Sir -Owen; it is your’s to decide upon his fate. This you have done, and I -may now say without scruple, you have wisely done; yet recollect my dear -Cecilia, we have as yet but this one infant in our stock, and I do not -expect that Mrs. De Lancaster will prove a very prolific mother. - -I trust, replied Cecilia, that this fine boy will live, and then I shall -think Mrs. De Lancaster a very fortunate mother, though she may never -greet us with a second hope. - -Heaven grant the child may live! exclaimed De Lancaster; devoutly I -implore it. But oh! my dear Cecilia, where is our stream of ancestry -alive but in yourself? In whose veins but in your’s does the ancient -current of our blood run pure? Look at your brother! _Look at the rock, -from which this child is hewn!_ Is there in that dead mass one spark of -native fire, one quickening ray of genius?--No; not one. Stampt with an -inauspicious name, he is of all the foregone Philips _Philippissimus_. -Look at the hapless mother of the babe! Has she a heart? I know she has -not that, which answers to the name: she had, but it is gone. Alas for -thee, poor babe! being so fathered and so mothered, child, from whom -can’st thou derive or heart or head--? - -From you, his grandfather, replied Cecilia: Come, come, my dearest sir, -I’ll not allow of this despondency. Rise from your chair, and come with -me and visit this new scyon of your stock! Look in his lovely face; -contemplate the bright promise of a true De Lancaster, a virtuous hero, -born to crown your name with honour: See him! you’ll own how Providence -has blessed you, and blush for having doubted. - -The father rose, took the hand of his daughter, and, whilst the tears -were brimming in his eyes, followed where she led. - -Now, my friendly reader, if you have gone patiently along with me -through the pages of this my first book, let me hope that you will -proceed not unpleasantly to the conclusion of the next. - -You know that every story must have time to expand itself: characters -must not be hurried into action before they are understood; and a novel, -though it ought to be dramatic, is not absolutely a drama. - -My hero is yet in the cradle, and I must keep his grandfather and others -in the foreground, till he is fit to be presented to you: when that time -comes, old age may cease to prattle, philology may fall back and NATURE -step forward to conduct and close the scene. - -In the mean time if I take the freedom of saying a few words, whilst the -fable pauses, recollect that I cannot in the course of nature have many -more opportunities of conversing with you, and few have been the -writers, with whom you have had more frequent intercourse, or who have -been more pertinaciously industrious to deserve your favour and esteem, -for I am now striving to amuse and edify even the youngest of my -readers, when I myself am short of fourscore years by less than four; -and I am inclined to believe, that the mere manual operation of writing -these pages, (as I am now doing for the third time with my own hand) -would be found task enough for any person of my age, without engaging in -the labour of inventing, or the risque of fathering them. - -Be that as it may, the work is done, and done, not in the evil spirit of -the time, but without a single glance at any living character; conscious -therefore that I have not endangered what is sacred to me as a -gentleman, the critics are most cordially welcome to every thing they -can find about me as an author. However as I know some of them to be -fair and honourable gentlemen, I hope they will recollect how often I -have been useful to them in the sale of their publications, and assist -me now with their good word in the circulation of De Lancaster. - - - END OF THE FIRST BOOK. - - - - - BOOK THE SECOND. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_A Country Visit according to the old Costuma._ - - -By peep of day every thing, that had life, in and about Kray Castle, -horses, dogs and cats included, were up and in motion, save only the -lady in the straw, who could not rise, and the gentleman in bed, who did -not chuse to leave it, namely Philip the fisher, who had not got one -perch, and probably not so many _bites_ from beside the banks, as he had -been favoured with from between the blankets. - -The two companions, who had pledged themselves to this adventure, -rendezvoused at the same moment, though not exactly under the same -colours; for whilst the scarlet of De Lancaster’s apparel was fiery -bright, the uniform of Wilson had a cast of the campagne in it, having -seen some service, and endured some smoke. - -Amongst the numerous personages, who attended these adventurers to the -door of the vehicle, in which they embarked their bodies, our new-born -hero took a conspicuous post, probably more in compliment to the -curiosity of his nurse, than selfishly to gratify his own. Nevertheless -it is recorded, that when the machine, (called in those days a coach) -was put in motion by the joint energy of six fat coach-horses and one -fat driver, little John clapped his hands, and crowed amain for joy: if -he made any speech upon the occasion, there was one more instance of -miraculous prematurity lost to the world, for nobody remembered it. - -Though the country they had to travel over was not quite so flat as -Norfolk, nor the road altogether like a gravel walk, yet the journey was -prosperous, for the team was strong, and a persevering amble, now and -then exasperated into an actual trot, brought the travellers within -sight of the mansion, embowered in yew-trees, where dwelt the descendant -of King Lear, father of a daughter less ambitious than Regan, but far -more dutiful. - -A forerunner, who without trial of his speed, had outstripped the coach -by some miles, had announced the coming of the lord of Kray Castle, and -the fires in the old conventual kitchen sparkled at the news: the -drunken old warder had got on his fur gown, and the bard of the family -was ready in the gallery of the great hall to give the customary -salutation to so honourable a guest. When Mr. De Lancaster had passed -the abbey-like porch, and found himself in the aforesaid hall, he turned -round, and made a courteous inclination of his head to the harper, who, -like Timotheus, was _placed on high_: noticing the domestics and -retainers, who lined his passage to the receiving room, he said in a -whisper to his friend the colonel--These honest folks don’t look as if -they had suffered by a reduction either of the quantity or quality of -their Welch ale.--When ushered into the room, where the master of the -mansion was, they found him sitting in his gouty chair, with his foot -wrapped in flannel on a stool, in company with a great collection of -Morgans, who hung quietly by the wall: upon sight of De Lancaster his -countenance was lighted up with joy. This is kind indeed, he exclaimed; -this is an honour I could not expect, and a favour I shall never forget, -taking the hand of De Lancaster, and making an effort, as if to press it -to his lips. Turning to Colonel Wilson, he cried--Ah my old friend, I am -happy to see you. Welcome to Glen-Morgan! Why you look bravely, and are -nimbler upon one leg, than I am upon two: you see how I am suffering for -the sins of my youth.--He then called out amain for Mrs. Richards his -housekeeper; he might have spared himself the trouble, for Mrs. Richards -was in the room, and made herself responsible for well-aired beds, -reminding her master, who questioned her very closely, that Captain -Jones had lodged ten nights in the room, which she had prepared for Mr. -De Lancaster, and he had left Glen-Morgan that very morning: the same -good care had been taken of Colonel Wilson’s apartment. Satisfaction -being given upon these points, Mrs. Richards was strictly enjoined to -see that not an individual belonging to his worthy guest wanted for any -thing in his house, nay, if a dog had followed his coach, let it be her -duty to take care that he was welcomed and well fed.--These were the -manners, and such the primitive hospitality of those days. - -When dinner was announced, and old Morgan, wheeled in his chair into the -eating-room, the parson in his canonicals at the foot of the table gave -his benediction to an abundant mass of steaming viands, which bespoke a -liberal rather than an elegant provider. A grave and elderly gentleman, -who had the health of the family under his care, pronounced a loud Amen -at the conclusion of the parson’s prayer, and the butler at the -sideboard bowed his head. The family lawyer was also present, having a -dinner retainer ad libitum, and a painter of no small eminence, who was -upon his tour for the purpose of taking sketches of back-grounds for his -portraits, completed the party. - -Every guest at table had an attendant at his back in full livery of -green and red with boot-cuffs, on which the tailor of the household had -wantonly bestowed such a bountiful profusion of scarlet plush, that the -hand, which gave a plate, seldom failed to sweep away the bread beside -it, or the knife and fork, as it might happen: some discomposure also -occurred to the wearers of wigs, when a dish was put on or taken off -from the table. The harp would not have been silent, but that Mr. De -Lancaster observed, that the din of the table would probably be louder -than the melody of the serenade, and with much good reason suggested, -that it might be more respectful to the musician, not to call upon him -for his attendance till there was a better chance for hearing his -performance. - -When the table at length was cleared, and the health of the new-born -heir had gone round, De Lancaster did not fail to call for the minstrel, -and Mr. Gryffin Gryffin made his entrance with his harp, habited in his -garb of office with his badge of merit pendant on his breast. After a -prelude, calculated to display his powers of execution, he paused to -know if it was the pleasure of the company to honour him with their -choice of any favourite melody; to this De Lancaster with his usual -courtesy made answer, that for himself he should much prefer to hear -some strain of Mr. Gryffin’s own composition, accompanied by the voice. -Gryffin bowed, and confessed that he had been employed upon a simple -melody of a pensive and pathetic cast, adapted to a few valedictory -stanzas, which Captain Jones, who had that morning departed from -Glen-Morgan to embark for the West Indies, had left upon his table, -purposely, as it should seem, to fall into his hands.-- - -By all means give us those! was the exclamation of more than one person -in the company. - -The obedient minstrel again made a graceful reverence, and throwing his -hands upon his harp, sung as follows-- - - “Hark, hark, tis the bugle! It wafts to my ear - “The signal for parting--Adieu to my dear. - “I go to the isles, where the climate is death, - “And Fate’s pallid hand weaves my funeral wreath. - - “When I leave my soul’s treasure forlorn on the shore, - “And I strain my sad eyes, till they see her no more, - “My sorrows unheeded no pity shall move, - “While my cold-hearted comrades cry--Why did you love? - - “A soldier, whose sword is his all, should obey - “No mistress but Honor--and truly they say-- - “Behold! at her call, to my duty I fly; - “Can a soldier do more for his honor than die?” - -When Mr. Gryffin Gryffin had concluded his madrigal, of which the melody -at least was extremely well composed, the painter, who ought to have -been a better critic, than to have overlooked the effect, which it had -had upon the countenance of old Morgan, unadvisedly enquired who the -mistress of the poet was--A poet’s mistress, you may be sure, De -Lancaster instantly replied; every thing is imaginary; the mistress and -the muse are alike ideal beings, and death and dying are only put in to -make out the rhymes; then turning to the master of the table, he -said--Brother Morgan, I perceive you drink no wine; I have had my glass, -and if the company will excuse us, you and I old fellows will leave them -to their claret, and take a cup of coffee tete à tete in the next room. - -The motion was seasonable, and so immediately seconded by the man of -medicine, that the mover and the man to be moved soon found themselves -in a situation equally well adapted to the compassionate object of the -one, and the seasonable relief of the other. - -Here as soon as they had taken their seats, and were left to -themselves, De Lancaster commenced his lecture _De consolatione_. On -this occasion it so happened, that a fair opportunity was not made use -of, for, except a slight hint at Cicero and his daughter, very little -philology or common-place argument were resorted to: common sense was -found upon trial to answer all purposes quite as well: when the one -lamented that he had not discovered his daughter’s attachment, the other -very naturally demanded, who but the lady was to be blamed for that? -Where there was such a flagrant want of confidence on the part of the -daughter, and no compulsion on that of the father, by what kind of -sophistry could he suggest occasion for any self-reproach?--To this when -Morgan answered, that he feared his daughter had been awed into -concealment, De Lancaster sharply replied, that he defied him to assign -any honourable motive for a disingenuous action: a father could only -recommend the situation, which he thought most eligible and advantageous -for his child, presuming that she had not previously engaged her heart; -in which if he was deceived by her, it only proved that either he was -very unsuspecting, or she extremely cunning. In conclusion Morgan was -driven to confess that his only remaining compunction arose from the -reflection upon what Mr. Philip De Lancaster might suffer by a -connection, so little likely to promote his happiness. - -If that be your regret, resumed De Lancaster, dismiss it from your mind -at once. Philip is made at all points for your daughter: no couple can -be better paired. Fondness on either side would destroy their mutual -tranquillity. They have given us, under Providence, a grandson, and if -that blessing be continued to us, you and I must agree to regard the -intermediate generation as a blank, and rest our only hope on what that -child may be. - -Heaven grant him life, cried Morgan! You have cured me of the mournfuls. -Let us join our friends. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_Robert De Lancaster returns to Kray-Castle. Another Visit is in -Meditation._ - - -As the porter, who lays down his burden and his knot, has probably a -quicker sense, and greater relish for the pleasure, which that -relaxation gives, than the gentleman, who never carried any thing -heavier than the coat upon his back, so did it fare with the good old -lord paramount of the manor of Glen-Morgan. He was just now the lightest -man in the company, forasmuch as he had got rid of a heavy wallet of -vexations, and in the gaiety of his heart, he declared, that as for any -pain the gout could give (which in fact at that very moment gave no pain -at all) he regarded it as nothing: a man was not to flinch and make wry -faces at a little twinge of the toe, when he had a gallant officer in -his eye, who had undergone the amputation of a leg. - -Yes, said the colonel, I have lost one leg; I should not like to lose -another; but in our way of life we must take things as they turn out; -considering how often I have heard the bullets whistle, I think myself -well off. - -I perceive, cried the painter, it is your right leg, colonel, which you -have lost: the misfortune I should think would have been greater, had -you been deprived of your right arm. - -So the world would think, sir, replied the colonel, had it been your -case; but we poor soldiers sometimes want our legs to save our lives. - -Your wounds sometimes, said De Lancaster, will save your lives: the -scars, that Caius Marius bore about him, rendered his visage so -terrible, that the assassinating soldier did not dare to strike him.--I -have painted him in that very crisis, replied the artist; but I confess -I have trusted to his natural expression, and left out the scars.--You -have done right as a painter, rejoined De Lancaster; an historian is -tied down to facts. - -After an evening, passed in conversation, cheerful at least, though -little worth recording, and a night consumed in sleep, of which no -record can be taken, Robert De Lancaster rose with the sun, and, after -about five hours travel, was set down in safety with his friend the -colonel at his castle door, where Cecilia met him with a smiling -welcome, and a happy report, that all was well. This report was in a few -minutes after confirmed by Mr. Llewellyn, who had the health of the lady -above stairs under his care. Mr. Philip also presented himself, and our -hero John, (though last and least) exhibited his person, and seemed -perfectly well satisfied with the reception, that was given him. - -Llewellyn was a man of information, and had a spirit of enquiry, by -which he became to the full as deep in the secrets of the families he -visited, as in those of the medicines he administered. To Sir Owen at -all times, sick or well, he had free access, and he paid him more than -professional attendance: he now brought the news of Mrs. David Owen’s -arrival at Penruth Abbey. He had seen her, and being as usual in a -communicative vein, he proceeded to launch out into many of those -trivial particulars, which are of easy carriage, and with which -gentlemen of his vocation are apt to enrich their conversation to the -great edification and amusement of their employers. - -Mr. Llewellyn would not positively pronounce Mrs. David Owen to be a -beauty, yet he was aware that many people would call her pretty; she was -not however to his taste: there was a want of sensibility and a certain -delicacy of expression, which in his conception of the female character -(and here he addressed himself to Cecilia) was the very _crisis_ of all -that is charming in woman. - -You mean _criterion_, my friend, said De Lancaster, but you are _in the -shop_, and there errors are excepted; so go on; proceed with your -description. - -Mr. Llewellyn was too well accustomed to these little rubs to be daunted -by them, and finding that he had gained attention, proceeded to describe -Mrs. Owen as a sprightly little woman of a very dark complexion, with an -aquiline nose, quick sparkling eyes and thick arched eyebrows, black as -the raven’s plume: Mr. Llewellyn professed himself no admirer of black -hair; (Cecilia’s was light brown). Her dress, he said, was after the -fashion of the Spanish ladies, as he had seen them represented on the -London stage, when _he walked the hospitals_.--Here Mr. Llewellyn made -another slip, but it was out of De Lancaster’s reach, who had no data -for a comment.--He acknowledged that her style of dress was well -calculated to set off her shape, and display the elegance of her taper -limbs to the best advantage: he would have the company be prepared to -encounter the sight of bare elbows and short petticoats; for his own -part he was no friend to either. She had taken up her guitar at Sir -Owen’s desire, and sung two or three of her Spanish airs, accompanied by -certain twanging strokes on that instrument, which, though it resembled -nothing that could be called playing, had however no unpleasing effect. -She sung in a high shrill tone, and accompanied the words, which he did -not understand, with certain looks and gestures, which he did not wish -to describe. - -Their melodies are Moorish, said De Lancaster; they use a great deal of -action when they sing: the Greeks themselves did the same. Does Mrs. -David Owen speak English? - -With great fluency, but with a foreign accent. She had her son with her, -about four or five years old, the very picture of herself; extremely -forward, cunning and intelligent beyond what could be expected from a -child of his age. Sir Owen had been rather disconcerted and thrown out -of his bias by his visitors on their first arrival; but he had now -acquiesced, and the lady seemed to have the game in hand. Mr. Llewellyn -concluded by declaring, that if he had not been told she was a Spaniard, -he should verily have suspected her to be a Jewess. - -Whether she be Jewess or Christian, said the master of the family, we -must pay her the compliment of a first visit, and without delay. - -The next morning, as soon as the sun appeared upon the eastern hills, -and gave the promise of a fair day, order of march was given out for the -afternoon; dinner was announced for an early hour, and again the -body-coach set out with De Lancaster and Cecilia occupying the seat of -honour, and Philip with his back to the great front glass, followed by -two reverend personages grey-headed, and in no respect resembling light -horsemen, save only that they carried arms before them, though not in -holsters of the newest military fashion. The elegant simplicity of -Cecilia’s dress very happily contrasted the splendid drapery of the old -gentleman, who had relieved the scarlet coat, not in the happiest -manner, with a waistcoat of purple satin, richly embroidered with gold, -and not much exceeded by the coat in the length of its flaps, or the -capaciousness of its pockets. Philip was by no means over-studious of -the toilette. Colonel Wilson had gone home to receive his son Edward, -who was now elected off from Westminster school to Trinity College in -Cambridge. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_The Visit to Penruth Abbey. Certain Personages, who will fill -conspicuous Parts in this eventful History, are introduced to our -Readers._ - - -As the cumbrous machine, to which the family of the De Lancasters had -now committed their persons, disdained the novelty of springs, it was -well for the company within that it was provided with a soft lining of -blue velvet and enormous cushions, stuft with swan’s down. It had been -the admiration of the county, when its owner served the office of -sheriff about twenty years past, and though its original splendour was -somewhat faded, it still exhibited on its pannels a vast shield -emblazoned with the device of the harp between a copious expanse of -wings. When it turned the point of the avenue leading to Penruth Abbey, -looming large as an Indiaman in a fog off Beachy Head, it was readily -descried by the porter from his lodge, who, huddling on his tufted gown -of ceremony, rung out the signal on the turret-bell; whereupon all the -waitingmen, drunk or sober, ranged themselves in the hall, and old Robin -ap Rees prepared himself to salute the respected visitor with a -flourish on the harp, as he entered the house. - -Robert De Lancaster, followed by his son and daughter, passed through -the domestic files to the tune of Shenkin, and was received at the door -of the saloon by Sir Owen, who presented his sister-in-law in due form, -making her reverences in the style and fashion of Spain, where the -ladies bow, and the men curtsey. - -The good old man acquitted himself with all the gallantry of the good -old court, and took his seat with due respect and ceremony beside the -lady. When he had adjusted the tyes of his perriwig and the flaps of his -coat, having drawn off his high-topped gloves to give a due display to -his ruffles, Mrs. Rachel Owen began the conversation by telling him how -much she admired his equipage, which she complimented by saying it was -exactly upon the model of the coaches of the Spanish nobles: the English -carriages, she observed, were generally very ill constructed and in a -bad taste, particularly those she travelled in, drawn by only two -beggarly horses, unmercifully whipped by a brat of a postillion; whereas -in her country no man of distinction could pass from place to place -without his six mules, guided by the voice, unincumbered by either reins -or harness, and ornamented with bells, which in her opinion gave a -cheerful sound, and had a very dignified effect. - -Why yes, madam, said De Lancaster, every country is attached to its own -customs. The Spaniard prefers his mule, the Laplander his rein-deer, the -inhabitant of the desart his camel, and some tribes bordering upon -Abyssinia ride their cows. The animals no doubt are adapted to their -several climates: in England we are contented with horses, and as our -vehicles are apt to have a great deal of iron-work about them, we are -satisfied with the jingling they make, and readily dispense with the -amusement of bells. - -He then proceeded to pass some high encomiums on the beauty and majesty -of the Castilian language, which he said he could read and understand, -when spoken, though he was not able to keep up a conversation in it. He -remarked upon the excellence of their proverbs, which he said was a -proof both of the fecundity and antiquity of a language. She -acknowledged the justness of his remark, and instanced the romance of -Cervantes as abounding in proverbs. She believed they were frequent in -the Hebrew language, and asked him if they were also common in the -Greek. - -Very much so, madam, replied De Lancaster, in the writings of the -Greeks. As to the Hebrews, the wise sayings of Solomon alone furnish a -very copious collection, and are by us specifically called his -_Proverbs_, or as the Greeks would term them his _Paræmiæ_, which some -express by the word proverb, following Cicero’s interpretation; others -by the word adage, preferring the authority of Varro, the most learned -of all the Roman philologists. - -The lady, who had drawn this conversation upon herself by an affectation -of talking about what she did not understand, now perceiving the eyes of -the company directed towards her, and a general silence kept whilst De -Lancaster was speaking, felt her vanity so much flattered by having -this learned harangue addressed to her, that, in order to hold it on, -she ventured to ask which of the Greek authors were most famous for -their proverbs. - -Madam, replied De Lancaster, your question, though extremely pertinent -for you to ask, is not easy for me to answer with the precision I could -wish. I can only tell you that the Greek oracles were in general adages, -and many of the latter are to be traced even in Homer: the bulk of them -however is to be collected from Aristotle the Peripatetic, and his -disciples Theophrastus and Clearchus of Irlöe, from Chrysippus, -Cleanthes, Theætetus, Aristides, Aristophanes, Æschylus, Mylo, -Aristarchus, and many others, that do not just now occur to me to name -to you. - -These are great authorities indeed, cried Mrs. Owen, more and more -delighted with the conversation as it grew more and more unintelligible -to her; and pray, learned sir, added she, condescend to inform me where -the wise sayings of these great men are to be met with. - -De Lancaster was not a man to withhold his answer from any question upon -a point of philology, could any such have been put to him by his -cook-maid; whereas Mrs. Owen had fairly hooked him in to believe that -she was interested in his discourse, and solicitous to be informed. -Possessed with this opinion, he replied--Madam, every question that you -put to me is a convincing proof, that the ladies in your country turn -their minds to studies, in which our English women have no ambition to -be instructed (a conclusion falser than which he never made in his -life) and it is with particular satisfaction I have the honour to inform -you, that in Zenobius the sophist, or (as some will have it) Zenodotus, -in Diogenianus of Heraclea, and in the Collectanea of Suidas, you will -find ample store to gratify your very laudable curiosity: I would -recommend to you also to consult Athenæus, Stobæus, Laertius, Michael -Apostolius the sophist, Theophrastus called Logotheta, and others, that -might be pointed out; but for the present perhaps these may suffice. - -I dare say they will, cried Sir Owen, and if you find them in this -house, sister Rachel, I’ll give you leave to keep them. Lord bless you, -my good neighbour, she never heard the name of one of them, nor is there -a monk in all Spain, that ever did put a word of theirs under his cowl, -or ever will. I tell you they are as dull as asses, and as obstinate as -mules. Rachel knows no more of what you have been saying to her than I -do. - -This side speech of the baronet’s, so unseasonably true, had scarce -passed his lips, when little David bolted into the room, and having -fixed his piercing eyes upon the person of De Lancaster, ran up to his -mother, and in a screaming voice cried out--Look, look, mamma, there’s a -man in a black wig, for all the world like our old governor of -Cadiz!--Hush, hush, saucy child, cried the mother, stopping his mouth -with her hand.--Don’t stop him, I pray you, said the good man; when -children find out likenesses, ’tis a proof that they make observations. -Your son compares me to the governor of Cadiz, and I dare say I am -honoured by the comparison. - -That is true politeness, said Mrs. Owen, addressing herself respectfully -to De Lancaster. It is not often that great learning and great urbanity -are found in the same person: when they are, how infinitely they adorn -each other!--a reflection this, so much to the honour of Mrs. David -Owen, that lest I may not have many to record equally to her credit, I -am the more inclined to notice it upon this opportunity. - -Addressing herself to Mr. Philip De Lancaster, she said--I take for -granted, sir, you are extremely fond of the beautiful infant, of which I -am to give you joy--Philip bowed and made no answer.--I hear, repeated -she, he is an uncommon fine boy--Philip was of opinion that all infants -were alike: for his part he could mark no difference between -them--Perhaps you have not studied them with quite so much attention as -you have given to your books--Philip was not very fond of reading--Of -country sports perhaps--Still less--Of planting, farming, building?--Not -in the least of either--Mrs. Owen seemed resolved to find his ruling -passion--Did he take pleasure in the wholesome exercise of walking?--He -doubted if it was wholesome, and he never walked, if he could avoid it: -he angled now and then, and had no dislike to a game of chess--I -comprehend you now, said the inquisitive lady; fishing is an amusement, -that accords with meditation, and chess demands reflection and a fixt -attention--I give little or no attention to it, replied Philip; and that -may be the reason, why I never win a game--That certainly may be the -reason, resumed the lady, and I’m persuaded you have struck upon it. - -The conversation now took a general turn. Tea was served, and the black -prying eyes of Rachel Owen were at leisure to scrutinize the dress and -person of Cecilia, whom the baronet seemed now disposed to release from -all further solicitation. Master David Owen in the mean time amused -himself with teazing a poor little Spanish lap-dog, which, but for him, -would have quietly reposed its diminutive body in his mother’s muff. -When reprimanded by Sir Owen for tormenting a dumb creature, he set his -nails with a most inveterate resolution into the little creature’s tail, -and to his infinite delight convinced the hearers, that he had no dumb -creature between his fingers. This produced a slight box on the ear -from his uncle, and the yell of the suffering dog was instantly -overpowered by the louder yell of the enraged tormentor--Poor fellow, -said Mrs. Owen, you shall play with little Don when your uncle is not -present: boys must be amused; must they not Mr. De Lancaster?--Not with -cruelty I should hope, he replied; they ought not to be indulged in that -amusement; and it is a very bad prognostic, when they can be amused by -it--The dog is of little value to me, said Mrs. Owen, and I would sooner -wring his nasty neck off with my own hands, than he should annoy my -brother Owen, and expose my darling boy to be punished by him. - -The dog, madam, said the old gentleman with a gravity, that was highly -tinctured with displeasure, the dog may be of little value, but humanity -is of the highest; and a more sacred lesson cannot be impressed upon -the mind of your son, whilst it is yet capable of receiving the -impression. Permit me also to observe to you that no lady wrings off the -neck of a dog with her own hands: we should view it as an act of -violence so totally out of character, that I must doubt if she ever -could recover it--I will not suppose that a poor little animal could -provoke your anger, because it cried out when it suffered pain, and your -son excite your pity, when he cried out louder, and suffered nothing. - -I am obliged to you, my good friend, cried Sir Owen, that is just what I -would have said, if I could--Rachel Owen said nothing, but answered with -a look, that I am neither able nor ambitious to describe. In that moment -vanished her respect for De Lancaster, and something was adopted in its -stead of a less innocent and gentle quality. She took her sulky sobbing -brat by the hand, and left the room without apology. The coach was -announced, and De Lancaster rose to take his leave--You see how it is -with me, said Sir Owen; I have admired an angel, and henceforth renounce -all hope of her: such a whelp and such a shrew, as I am now coupled to, -will shortly make an end of me. - -De Lancaster shook his friend by the hand, walked silently through the -hall to his coach, which conveyed him home in safety, time not having -sufficed for the fat coachman to get more than three parts tipsy, and -the fat horses being, as was usual with them, perfectly sober and -acquainted with the road. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_The Family of De Lancaster return to Kray-Castle. Our History mends its -Pace._ - - -De Lancaster and his daughter, meditating on the occurrences, that had -passed at their visit, particularly on the expressions, that had fallen -from Sir Owen upon their taking leave, observed a profound silence for -some time after they had left the Abbey. Philip’s thoughts did not in -any degree harmonize with their’s, for he was ruminating on the charms -of Mrs. Owen, and, as the coach was slowly moving up a steep ascent, -promulgated his opinion, that nothing could be more agreeable and -engaging than the very lady, who to them had appeared in so opposite a -character. - -No notice was taken of this _dictum_, for Philip had such a muttering -way of delivering his wise sayings, as made them seem like speeches -addressed to nobody in company, and of course entitled to no answer from -any body. Philip however, who had laid down his proposition in general -terms, proceeded now to branch into particulars, and these produced the -following brief dialogue between son and father; the former carrying it -on in the character of proponent, the latter as respondent. - -Mrs. Owen is very delicately made. I like slender limbs. - -They suit well with slender likings. - -She has a great deal of wit, and I am sure you thought so, for you -talked a great deal to her. - -And to very little purpose it should seem. - -She did not like Sir Owen to correct her child. - -Then she should have taken the trouble out of his hands, for the boy -deserved correction, and I am afraid will shortly become incorrigible. - -Here the alternation paused, and Cecilia, turning to her father, -said--What is it in the countenance of that boy, which, when I look upon -him, causes me to shudder? - -It is, said the father, because you read his character in his features, -and are persuaded, that the child, who sets out by tormenting a poor -helpless dog, will in time grow up to be the tormentor of a poor -helpless man. I own there is something in the boy repulsive to my -nature. - -He has fine eyes, said Philip. - -They are indications of his mind, and give fair warning, replied De -Lancaster; so far they may merit what you say of them. - -I hope, rejoined Cecilia, my dear little nephew in no future time will -form acquaintance or connection with him. He never will be cruel I am -sure; his little hands already are held out to every living thing he -sees, and his sweet smile bespeaks humanity. - -Yes, and as surely as he lives, my dear, replied De Lancaster, his hands -will be held out to all his fellow creatures in distress, or I am a -false prophet. As for my friend Sir Owen, I pity him from my heart, poor -man. His last words made a strong impression on me. If he submits to -keep these plagues about him, I fear he will never know another happy -day. - -Philip’s opinion of Mrs. Owen was not altered, but his fund of -conversation was exhausted, so he said no more, and the coach discharged -its freight in the port, from which it had set out. - -As we hold it matter of conscience not to keep our readers any longer in -the nursery, we must here avail ourselves of our privilege, and pass -very slightly over a period of our hero’s life, which does not furnish -us with matter sufficiently interesting to be recorded in these memoirs. -As we profess to give the history of the human mind, we trust it will be -allowed us to present our John De Lancaster to the reader as a boy, -whose thoughts and actions were no longer merely neutral, but such as -might naturally lead to the developement of that character, which he was -destined to exhibit in his more advanced maturity. For the present we -shall content ourselves with observing that, although the age, when -education ought to have begun, was now gone by, still the question of -what species that education should be, whether public or private, was -not decided. - -Within this period the following letters, under different dates from the -West Indies, had reached the hands of Mrs. Philip De Lancaster. - - “_From Captain Jones--Letter the first._ - - “Madam, - - “In a few days after I had arrived at my destination I fell ill, - and my disorder soon assumed those appearances, which in this - country are considered to afford but little chance of a recovery. - The wife and daughter of my friend Major Parsons, who came - passengers with me in the same transport, with a benignity, that - exposed their lives to danger, under Providence saved me from - death. - - “Unfortunately for the younger of my preservers, she conceived so - strong an attachment, that I must have been the most unfeeling and - the most ungrateful of all men could I have remained insensible to - her partiality. Her health became in danger, and both her father - and mother, well apprised of the cause of it, offered and even - solicited me to accept her hand in marriage, and I did not - withstand their joint appeal. - - “Thus, after your example, I have married, and I am persuaded, that - my wife, had she the honour of being known to you, would please you - by the gentleness of her character and the unaffected modesty of - her manners. I have stationed her in a little cottage near - adjoining to the barracks, and in a healthy situation; but her - father Major Parsons is like myself a soldier of fortune, and our - establishment is proportioned to our means. - - “I write by this conveyance to lay her jointly with myself at the - feet of my benevolent patron your ever-honoured father. She - presumes to send you a few tropical fruits of her own preserving, - and hopes you will condescend to accept of them together with her - most humble respects and unfeigned good wishes. - - I have the honour to be, - Madam, &c. &c. - JOHN JONES.” - -The second letter from Captain Jones, of a date posterior by about a -year to the foregoing, is as follows-- - - “Madam, - - “Alas, that I must trouble you with my sorrows! I have lost my - wife; my poor Amelia is no more. She was a being of so mild a - nature, that were I conscious of a single word, which ever passed - my lips to give her pain, I never should have peace of mind again. - The ravages of this exterminating fever are tremendous: she fell - before it almost without a struggle. The affliction of her parents - is extreme, and I am told the sternest soldier in my company, that - followed her body to the grave, could not refrain from tears, for - every soul that knew her, loved and lamented her. She has left an - infant daughter, in whose tender features I trace a perfect - miniature of her whom I have lost. As soon as ever her afflicted - grandmother can be induced to part from her, I mean to rescue her - from this infernal climate, and consign her to the motherly care - and protection of my kind friend and relation Mrs. Jennings, who - resides at Denbigh-- - - “Oh Madam, you, who know the inmost feelings of my breaking heart, - will you in pity look upon my child, the legacy of my Amelia, my - all in this world, and perhaps before this letter reaches you, the - only relict of your wretched friend? - - I have the honour, &c. &c. - JOHN JONES.” - -This letter was soon followed by the melancholy tidings of poor Jones’s -death; his infant child Amelia had in the mean time arrived, and was -placed under the care of Mrs. Jennings above-mentioned, who by the -bounty of old Morgan, was liberally rewarded with a pension for her -education of the orphan. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_Puerile Anecdotes of our Hero John De Lancaster._ - - -Although Mr. De Lancaster in one of his prophetic moments had -pronounced, that the mother of our hero would conceive a more than -ordinary love and affection for her infant, the event did not exactly -verify the prediction: sorrow had benumbed her heart: she had so long -fed upon it in secrecy and silence, that all the little energy, which -nature had originally endowed her with, was lost. From her husband she -derived no comfort, and for the maternal duties she was totally unfit. -The accommodating contract she had entered into with Philip for all -nuptial emancipation in future, was so religiously observed on both -sides, that it did not seem in the order of things natural, that the -heir of the family would ever be saddled with a provision for younger -children. - -Young John, who had occasioned much trouble and annoyance to his mother -by inadvertently coming into the world, before he was expected, seemed -likely to go out of it without experiencing the care of any other parent -than the benevolent Cecilia; for Mr. Philip De Lancaster, as I have -before hinted, had married without any other moving cause than what -operated upon him through the strainers of his father’s recommendation -and advice, and was not remarkably uxorious. On the contrary, as the -embers of affection were not vivid in his bosom, and as there is reason -to believe he did not take much pains to kindle them in the bosom of his -lady, it may be presumed, that he was as little studious to find -consolation for her sorrows, as she was to interrupt his indolence, or -to resent his indifference.--Amusements she had none, and occupations -extremely few: she discharged herself from all attention to family hours -and family meals; eat and slept by herself, received no company and paid -no visits, alive to little else but the reports, which at stated times -she expected and received from Mrs. Jennings at Denbigh of little -Amelia’s health and improvement, whom at the same time she had not -energy enough to visit, whilst her father was a prisoner at Glen-Morgan -under the coercion of two inexorable keepers, old age and gout. She had -a servant Betty Wood, an ancient maiden and as melancholy as herself, -who now and then read homilies to her, and now and then worked carpeting -and quilted counterpanes, over which she regaled herself with hymns, -sung in a most sleep-inviting key to adagio movements, that scarce moved -at all. This work of hers, like that of the chaste Penelope, was without -end or object; for it rarely failed to happen that, before the task was -finished, Mrs. De Lancaster had changed her fancy as to the pattern, and -destroyed perhaps in a few minutes what patient Betty had been employed -upon for months: her carpets never covered the floor, nor did her -counterpanes ever ornament the beds. - -As Mr. Philip De Lancaster had no further punctilios to observe towards -his lady, he seemed to think that nothing more could be required of him -towards his son except to measure his growth from year to year by -notches in the wainscot of the steward’s parlour, which are there -remaining to this hour as records of the extraordinary vegetative -powers, with which dame Nature had endowed the object of these memoirs. -Cecilia would fain have had her little nephew brought into the room -after dinner, but it was not often she was indulged in that wish, as the -old gentleman did not approve of the custom; and once, when the good -aunt was rather more importunate than was usual with her, he told her, -that the practice of introducing noisy children and prattling nurses -into the guest-room was so justly reprobated by all civilized societies, -that the citizens of Abydos became notorious to a proverb for their ill -manners in that particular, and were the laughing-stock of the more -refined Athenians--And should not you and I, said he, like the aforesaid -citizens, deserve to be the ridicule of our neighbours, if, instead of -entertaining them with the conversation of the table, we should treat -them with the din and gabble of a nursery?--From these, or any other -authorities, when abetted by her father, it was not Cecilia’s practice -to appeal, though perhaps she longed to observe to him, that his -neighbours were not in all respects exactly like the _refined -Athenians_. - -De Lancaster nevertheless was extremely fond of his grandson, and once -in every forenoon had him brought into his library, where he would hear -him say the little lessons, that his aunt had taught him, and sometimes -with great good humour tell him stories, and repeat fables, which had -always some point of instruction couched under the moral of them, upon -which however the narrator was in the habit of descanting rather longer -than would have answered his purpose, had that been only to amuse the -hearer; but as this history does not undertake to record every incident, -that occurred during the boyish years of our hero, we shall content -ourselves with observing, that, as he advanced in strength and stature, -he gave proofs of a very early aptitude towards all athletic exercises -within the compass of his powers. He scrambled up the crags, forded the -gullies and braved the inclemencies of climate, with any boy of his age, -however bold or hardy. - -That the only son and heir of a family so ancient, rich and respectable -should be indulged in these adventures, would not seem very natural, -but that his aunt could not, and his father would not, follow him in -these excursions, whilst every body else about the castle conspired to -encourage him in them, and applauded him for his resolution. - -His great ambition was to rival young David Williams, son of the blind -minstrel, in the manly art of horsemanship. This hardy lad performed his -errands to the post office and market of the neighbouring town on a -poney, who yielded to none of Welch extraction in obstinacy and -determined disobedience to controul. He had more ingenious devices to -dislodge young David from his back, than young David had resources at -all times ready to disappoint and thwart him in his contrivances; and -hence it rarely came to pass, that the horse and his rider did not part -company before the expedition was complete and at an end. If David was -by chance encharged with frangible commodities, nobody could ensure upon -a worse bottom. Poney had not a single friend in house or stable; every -soul gave him an ill name; but some enjoyed to witness his malicious -tricks, whilst to others David always set out with an assurance, that he -would master him, and generally came home with tokens, that gave ocular -demonstration to the contrary. - -One evening as David was returning home through the park with a cargo of -sundries in a basket, and just then in high good humour with his poney, -he was met by his friend John exactly at the pass, where the two roads -branched off, the one towards the castle, and the other to the stables. -David’s business carried him to the house, but the poney was disposed -to carry him and his business to the stable. This begat a difference of -opinions on the spot, and the dispute soon begat blows, which were -manfully laid on by the rider, and passionately resented by the -receiver. After a sufficient number of indecisive plunges, which brought -the basket of miscellaneous articles to the ground, but left the rider -only a little forwarder on his saddle than was quite convenient, poney -seemed in the humour to compromise the question between the two roads by -taking neither; but bolted forwards at full speed towards the hah-hah, -that bounded the pleasure ground, upon the very brink of which he made a -sudden stop, and throwing up his heels at the same instant with his head -between his knees, he completely effected his purpose by pitching his -jockey into the aforesaid hah-hah, which, luckily for its visitor, was -just then full of water. - -When John, who had been spectator of the contest, had assisted his -friend in getting out of the water, and found all bones whole, he -repaired to the stable, where the contumacious poney was still standing -at the door, and, arming himself, with David’s whip, proceeded to mount. -This was a new demand, which the poney could by no means reconcile to -his feelings; the battle instantly commenced; and victory hung between -them for a while without any seeming partiality to either side: many a -time they came to the ground together, but never parted; till at length, -after plenty of restive manœuvres, and a pretty many Welch -remonstrances, poney gave in, and, to the immortal honour of our young -Antæus, ever after became as tractable as a turn-spit. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_Education stands still. The Seeds of Enmity are sown. The Incident of -the dying Soldier._ - - -Whilst our hero was thus gaining laurels in the field by his bodily -achievements, in mental attainments he made no great progress. His good -aunt Cecilia laboured hard at her English lessons, but his play-fellows -and companions without any labour kept him in such practice with their -Welch, that between both languages he was in danger of speaking neither. -Still his kind instructress persevered in teaching him such things as -she could teach and he could learn, but although he was now advanced -beyond the age, when boys in general turn out to public schools, the -parties, which sate in council on the specific mode of education to be -pursued, were so wide of an adjustment, that it might well be made a -doubt if he was in any way of being educated at all. - -Mr. Philip De Lancaster had naturally so little interest in his own -opinions upon this, or any other question, that he parted from them upon -the easiest terms, and took them back again upon the slightest reasons. -He had been heard to say that something should be thought of for him, -but the task of thinking was a task he did not concern himself about. If -the decision between public and private education had rested upon -Philip, his casting vote would have been as mere a matter of chance, as -the cast of the dice. - -Mrs. De Lancaster, the mother, who never opened upon this subject, -except once to Cecilia, expressed her opinion that the question was of -no importance: he was his father’s son, and educate him how they would, -he would still be his son, and education could not mend him. - -Cecilia was humbly of opinion, that the subject was above her, and -properly belonged to the other sex to consider and decide. She observed -however that Colonel Wilson had given his sons a public education, and -she believed he had no cause to repent of it: this was evidently a lure -to hook him into the debate, and a pretty clear insinuation which way -her judgment and her wishes pointed. But the master-opinion, which alone -could resolve, and carry resolution into effect, was still to be sought -for in the bosom of the grandfather, and he did not seem in haste to -bring it forth. - -If it were put to me in the way of question, he said to Cecilia, whether -I am prepared to recommend a public school, I answer, no: if you should -persist to ask what other system I would recommend, I should observe to -you, that system is subordinate to nature, and that none such ought to -be laid down, till it is apparent and made clear to what the genius of -my grandson points. When I make use of the term genius, let me not be -understood as if admitting any inborn influence, which might seem to -favour the absurd chimeras about innate ideas. I am aware that Sophocles -in his Ajax asserts, that the happiness of man consists only in his -ignorance: in his ignorance of such things, as would make man miserable -did he know them, his happiness may indeed be said to consist; and so -far only I can agree with Sophocles; for ignorance, in its proper sense, -can make no man happy; on the contrary I hold it as a truth -incontrovertible, that, if any human being could be perfect in virtue, -he would be perfect in wisdom also; and if such be the test of wisdom, -how can ignorance be said to make him happy? Now if the wisdom of virtue -is to be instilled into the young pupil by the wisdom of books, it must -surely be by other books, than his masters in the dead languages may -always happen to select for his instruction in those languages. Cicero -wrote about the cardinal virtues, as he was pleased to call them, and it -is not quite clear to me, that suicide was not one of the family: in -fact, his book is good for nothing; the man was a follower of the New -Academy, and of course could have no opinion: his ambition was to talk -about every thing, and his maxim to decide upon nothing. You, my -excellent Cecilia, can for the present teach your nephew what he ought -to know, and perhaps if he never learns what you cannot teach, he will -have no loss. You will instil into his heart religion in its purest -principles--in teaching that, you teach him every thing. - -When this honest, but eccentric, man had thus unluckily entrenched -himself on the wrong side of a clear question, he could find so many -specious arguments of this sort for doing nothing, that of course -nothing was done; and the mind of the neglected boy, now thirsting for -instruction, found every avenue shut against him, except that only, -which had little new to afford. - -It so happened that Colonel Wilson had been called away upon an exchange -of his government for one of rather more emolument in a distant -situation, where he had been obliged to reside for a certain term upon -his first taking possession. This was a heavy loss to young John, who -had the mortification to hear the wit and understanding of David Owen -cried up and applauded, whilst he himself was let to remain in a state -little short of dereliction. Once or twice he was admitted to the honour -of standing by his father, whilst he angled in the canal; but John saw -no amusement in watching a float, that never once gave the signal of a -bite. In Cecilia’s flower garden he took some small delight, but it was -pleasure of too tame a sort to satisfy his ardent mind. - -One morning when Sir Owen’s fox hounds were to throw off in Kray wood, -he was permitted to put himself under the convoy of the groom, and go -out to see them find; but alas, he was destined to exhibit himself on -the back of the reformed poney, late the letter-carrier and drudge of -the castle; when the first object, that struck his sight, was the fine -young heir of Penruth Abbey, mounted on a full-sized hunter, and dressed -in a uniform of green and scarlet. He was accompanied by several -gentlemen in the same uniform, and, Sir Owen not being in the field, -seemed to act as master of the hunt. When the hounds began to challenge -in the cover, the sportsmen were in motion, and poor John, conscious of -his unworthiness to enrol himself amongst them, struck down a narrow -lane, that skirted the wood and led towards the castle by the shortest -cut. The country had been drenched with rain, and whilst John and poney -were bustling through this muddy pass, young Owen gallopped swiftly by, -and having spitefully contrived to sluice him, (man and horse,) all over -with the dirty soil, looked back and laughed.--Never mind, master -Johnny, cried the groom: sportsman’s fare--Not aware that the injury, -which the poor little fellow had received, was not confined to his -clothes, for upon drawing up and dismounting, which agony compelled John -to do without delay, not only his face was cut with the flinty rubbish, -that had been thrown up by the heels of Owen’s horse, but his eyes had -suffered much more seriously, so that he was obliged to be led home with -his handkerchief bound over his eyes, suffering the whilst intolerable -pain. What passed on his arrival at the castle need not be described: it -was some weeks before the skill of Mr. Llewellyn, and the tender care of -Cecilia, could be fairly said to have perfected the cure. No -intercourse in the mean time passed between the abbey and the castle, -and, if it was known at the former place (which there is good reason to -think it was) neither enquiry nor apology ever reached the latter. - -Whilst the groom enraged the lower regions of Kray Castle with his -account of the malicious feat, John was quite as capable of -distinguishing between design and accident, and with fewer words, but -deeper meditation, laid up the insult in his mind, never to be -forgotten. - -During the time that the boy, in consequence of this injury, was -interdicted from resorting to his book, impatient to be learning -something, he turned his thoughts towards blind Williams, who repeated -verses and played to him on the harp; which to enjoy, he would sit for -hours, with the shade over his bloodshot eyes, sympathizing with old -David on the lamentable loss of sight, and enquiring if it was attended -by that misery, which his imagination attached to it. - -It chanced one day, whilst sitting in this attitude by the side of the -minstrel, he was solicited for his charity by a worn-out soldier, who -had fallen sick upon his way, and had been admitted into the house by -the servants for the purpose of relieving him in his distress. John -lifted up the shade from off his eyes, to look at him, and the -melancholy spectacle, which, through the misty medium of his feeble -optics, he imperfectly discerned, struck so hard upon his feeling heart, -that he suffered the very keenest pang, that pity could inflict. Food, -clothes, medicine, bed, every thing, that could relieve a suffering -fellow creature at the point to die, was immediately to be prepared. The -soldier’s tale was short; for in the history of his sufferings there was -a mournful uniformity: wounds and hard service in unhealthy climates had -made him old in the mid-stage of life; poverty and privation had -depressed his hardy vigour, and sickness, consequencial of those evils, -had at length broken down a gallant spirit, which, under these -accumulated visitations, could no longer struggle with its destiny. - -John heard this sad recital of his woe with sympathizing tears; but when -he came to relate how cruelly he had been threatened and dismissed by -the young lord of a fine great house in the neighbourhood, (describing -Penruth Abbey) whilst begging charity at the door, where he saw the very -dogs fed with bread, for want of which he was starving, our -heart-struck hero started from his seat, and, stamping vehemently on the -floor, exclaimed--Let me but live to bring that Jew-born wretch to -shame, and let me die the death, I care not; tis enough!--Then turning -to the servants, he said--Take notice; my grandfather, your master, has -charity in his heart, and will not suffer this poor man to perish -through the want of any thing, that he can give. Let him therefore want -for nothing; when you have given him what he ought to have, take him to -a well-aired bed in a comfortable room, and send for Mr. Llewellyn to -attend upon him. I’ll answer for my orders--The soldier overpowered with -gratitude, only murmured out his thanks: blind David sung out -loudly--Heaven reward thee, my sweet child! Thou art a true De -Lancaster! - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_The Soldier takes leave of our young Hero. Delivers to him a Pacquet he -was entrusted with, and dies._ - - -Next morning, when the sun had risen, and old Robert De Lancaster was -attended upon, as usual, by David Williams, he enquired after the sick -soldier, which he understood had been taken into the house by the order -of his grand-son John. This drew from Williams a recital, much more -circumstantial, than had yet been made to him of that event. He gave the -very words, that John had uttered in resentment of young Owen’s -inhumanity, and they were deeply felt. De Lancaster remained silent for -a time, and gave no signal to the blind musician; at length he -said--Williams, my mind is agitated: give me something soothing, and -let it be a simple melody--I have hastily put together a kind of -ballad-melody of that very sort, replied the minstrel, which occurred to -me whilst reflecting upon young Mr. Owen’s want of charity to the poor -soldier, and, if it is your pleasure, I will recite it to the harp--Let -me hear it, said the master, and the minstrel sung as follows-- - - “I’m sick, said the soldier, and cover’d with scars, - “Behold the sad fruit I have reap’d in your wars! - “Have pity, good master, I’m feeble and old, - “I’m weary, and starving with hunger and cold. - - “Begone from my door, and appeal to the laws, - “I am not of your country, nor friend to your cause:-- - “Thus answer’d the merciless squire in his pride, - “And thus with disdain a young angel replied-- - - “What ails thee, what ails thee, thou miserly elf, - “To be hoarding and hugging thy rascally pelf? - “See where old father care strews his thorns in thy bed, - “And terrible death waves his dart o’er thy head. - - “Let thy cash buy the blessing and pray’r of the poor, - “And let them intercede when death comes to thy door; - “They perhaps may appease that importunate pow’r, - “When thy coffers can’t buy the reprieve of an hour. - - “Foolish man, don’t you know ev’ry grain of your gold - “May give food to the hungry and warmth to the cold? - “A purchase in this world shall soon pass away, - “But a treasure in Heaven will never decay. - - “Now tell me what pleasure you reap from your hoard, - “And I’ll tell you what rapture your dross might afford; - “Amid numberless joys I will name only these-- - “Gay days, happy nights and a conscience at ease. - - “Do you think, sordid wretch, when you turn a deaf ear - “To the suit of the orphan that God does not hear? - “Do you hope to escape from the searcher of hearts, - “When the tear of the widow no pity imparts? - - “When the ag’d and infirm vainly put up their pray’r - “For that mite, which your mass without missing could spare, - “The angel of vengeance your crime will enroll - “Amongst those of the demons, who murder the soul. - - “Give a shilling to-day, and the joy you’ll derive, - “To-morrow shall swell your small tribute to five; - “Progressive delight ev’ry hour shall encrease, - “And at length a few guineas shall purchace your peace. - - “If you spurn my advice, you’re a blockhead and dunce, - “You cannot serve God and your Idol at once; - “Who traffics with Mammon will find in the end, - “He has made a bad bargain, and lost a good friend.” - -De Lancaster had always a kind word upon his lips for his old blind -minstrel, and having told him that he had added another leaf to his -laurel, went down to his family assembled in the breakfast room with all -that charity in his heart, which the ditty had recommended. - -When the story of the soldier had been heard by Mr. Philip De Lancaster, -he coolly observed, that it was a trick to extort money; he would not -take the soldier’s word for a farthing, and did not believe young Owen -capable of any thing cruel or uncharitable. - -When it was related to Cecilia, she threw her arms about the neck of the -benevolent boy, pressed him to her bosom, and prayed Heaven to preserve -him from the malice of that spiteful imp, whose evil-boding visage -haunted her both day and night. - -When the mother of John was informed of the circumstance, and -understood that the man, who laid sick in the house was a soldier, she -sent Betty Wood to enquire of him what regiment he belonged to, and when -answer was brought that he was invalided from the 15th foot in the West -Indies, and private in the company of the late Captain John Jones, whom -he should ever bewail as the kindest master and the best of friends, it -seemed as if the fountain of her tears was never to be exhausted. An -irresistible desire possessed her to see the man, and, after certain -preparatory manœuvres, conducted by faithful Betty, she actually carried -her resolution into effect, and entered the chamber of the soldier, -planting Betty at the door to prevent interruption. As he had been -selected from the ranks by Captain Jones, as his domestic servant, he -had many anecdotes to relate, highly interesting to the hearer, and -very honourable to his late master: he spoke also warmly in the praise -of his deceased lady, and in raptures of his dear little Amelia, with -whom it seems he had come over to England in the pacquet, and, after -many adventures and misfortunes, was on his way to visit her at Denbigh, -when sickness overtook and reduced him to the condition, in which the -charity of her angel son had found him. - -He was now exhausted, and Mrs. De Lancaster forbore to press upon him -any more enquiries: she bade him be assured that he should never want; -she would pension him for life; she would settle him at Glen-Morgan in -the neighbourhood of Denbigh, and, if ever she became possessed of that -estate, he should be taken into her house, and pass the remainder of -his days in ease and competency. - -Alas, good lady, feebly he replied, I have but few more days on this -side the grave, and them I must employ in asking mercy of my God, and -imploring blessings on your son, who has been to me as an angel before -death. - -This said, she left him, and retired unseen to her chamber. John was -soon after heard, as usual, at her door, and admitted. - -Come to my arms, she cried, my dear, my noble boy! Did you but know how -I feel and why I feel your charity to that poor soldier, you would not -wonder at the tears I shed, whilst thus I press you to a breaking heart. -But you will know me after I am dead, and that time is not far off. -Leave me, my child; I shall not often send for you; my sorrows must be -only to myself. Go, go, be happy! I am very ill. Send Wood; and leave -the room. - -In the forenoon of the day next ensuing, young John De Lancaster visited -the poor soldier; he was dying, but found strength to say--God bless you -and farewell! Had I been relieved when I begged charity of that -neighbouring gentleman, who turned me from his door, I think I might -have lived, but I fainted soon after, and all your goodness could not -save me. He then reached out his hand, and delivered to John a small -leathern purse, which he prayed him to open. It contained a plain gold -ring, which Captain Jones had given him in charge for his daughter -Amelia, being the wedding ring of her mother: could he have reached -Denbigh, he had delivered it to her: he had been strongly beset by -hunger more than once, but he had resisted every impulse to part from -it, and had fulfilled his trust at the expence of his life: he now -committed the deposit to the care of one, who he was sure would -faithfully convey the legacy to its proper owner, and he devoutly prayed -to heaven, that it might prove a blessing to the wearer--John took the -ring, and assured him it should never pass from any other hands but his -into those of Amelia Jones. - -In the evening of that day the soldier died. - - * * * * * - -Have patience with me, kind and courteous reader! I am not leading you -into the regions of romance: I aim not to surprise you; but I am aiming -to find out, (if haply nature shall direct my hand) that clue, which, -rightly followed, may empower me to unravel the recesses of your heart. -This is my object; in attempting this, success, however short of -triumph, will repay me; but, if I wholly fail, my labour’s lost; I have -no second hope. - - - END OF THE SECOND BOOK. - - - - - BOOK THE THIRD. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_Early Efforts of our Hero’s Genius._ - - -John’s attachment to the harp of David Williams inspired him with a -desire for being taught a few easy tunes by so great a master. In this -ambition he was warmly encouraged by his grandfather, who considered it -as the unequivocal characteristic of a true De Lancaster, and boldly -predicted that he would rapidly advance to hereditary celebrity on that -ancient and noble instrument. - -Upon this occasion we should have been sorry if De Lancaster had failed -to recollect, that both Hercules and Alexander condescended to take -lessons on the harp, tho’ the former broke his masters head with his -own instrument, and the latter insisted upon his privilege of striking -the wrong string, whenever it suited him better than the right. Robert -therefore found it necessary to caution his grandson against copying -those boisterous scholars, and strictly enjoined him to give close -attention to the instructions of his master, after the example of the -Cretan youths, who were universally educated in music, and remarkably -obedient to their teachers. - -John accordingly sate down with eagerness for the undertaking, and in -point of diligence few Cretans could have exceeded him; but when -unexpected difficulties began to stare him in the face, and every lesson -seemed to increase those difficulties, his ardour cooled and despair -possessed him wholly. David Williams at length pronounced _ex -cathedrâ_, that his pupil had positively no genius for the instrument; -the case was hopeless, and the harp was laid aside. - -I am sorry for it, said the grandfather, but I am myself no performer on -the harp, though a lover of its melody, and sure I am that no man can -possess a spirit prepared to meet the vicissitudes of fortune with -equanimity and calmness, unless his passions have been disciplined by -music. Let the boy’s genius therefore be watched, and, if it points to -any other instrument, indulge him. - -Shortly after the promulgation of this edict the musical propensities of -the discarded harper began to shew themselves in a very different -character, and he now conceived a passion for performing on the -trumpet. - -Be it so! said the grandfather; it proves at least his spirit has a -martial cast. - -Colonel Wilson was now returned, and heard with infinite delight the -story of the dead soldier, told by Cecilia so greatly to the credit of -his darling boy John; but when his friend De Lancaster told him with an -air of triumph of his reigning passion for the trumpet, he treated it as -a jest, and ridiculed the idea. Disappointed by this reception, and -somewhat piqued, De Lancaster was determined to stand to his defences, -and that Wilson, who had arraigned the trumpet, should be doomed to hear -the trumpet’s advocate. - -Sir, said he, you will permit me to remind you, that the trumpet is an -ancient and a venerable instrument. If it be said that the walls of the -city of Thebes were raised by the lute of Amphion, we have better -authority for believing that the walls of Jericho were thrown down by -the trumpets of the Israelitish Priests. - -I hope, replied Wilson, the trumpet of my friend John will not be quite -so efficacious. If the castle tumbles down with the blast, we may chance -to be buried in its ruins. - -Wilson had better have left this skit alone, for his friend was at no -time guilty of giving his hearers too little information, and he was -just now put upon his mettle to discuss the merits of the insulted -trumpet under its three denominations according to the respective -characters, in which the ancients employed, and have described it. The -first of these, he told him, was the _tuba_, or straight trumpet, -properly so called: the second was the _lituus_, or shrill-toned -trumpet, curved at the extremity: the third and last the _cornuus_, or -deep-toned horn, of natural conformation, curved throughout: of these -the chief was the _tuba_ first named, which he informed him was unknown -to the Greeks, though not to Homer, who did not employ it in his -battles, knowing it was not then in use. - -He was right in not doing so, said Wilson; but if he had done otherwise, -I, for one, should never have found him out. - -Whether Wilson imagined that his friend had done with his trumpets it is -impossible to say, but it is very easy to believe that he was not aware -how many he had in petto, for he seemed astonished when given to -understand, that there were not less than six different sorts of the -tuba, as classed by Eustathius into that of the Athenians, invented by -Minerva; the Egyptian trumpet, contrived by Osiris, and employed in -their sacrifices; the trumpet of the Gauls, with a peculiar mouthpiece, -of a shrill tone, and by them called Carynx; the Paphlagonian trumpet, -mouthed like a bull and very deep-toned; that of the Medes, blown with a -reed, also of a deep tone, and lastly, the Tyrrhenian trumpet, extremely -acute and high-pitched in conformity to which it is supposed the Romans -modelled their’s. - -Scarcely was this edifying dissertation finished, when the hall -resounded with a blast, loud enough, it should seem, to shake its aged -banners into tatters: Wilson hastened to the scene of action, and found -his friend John under the tuition not of any of the great masters -above-mentioned, but of a puppet-show man, who travelled the country, -and recommended himself by the strength, rather than by the sweetness, -of his tones. This gentleman, who had just recruited his lungs with an -emollient dose of sweet Welch ale, blew with might and main in return -for the hospitality he had received, and doubtless for the honour of the -corps he belonged to. The Goddess Fame never gave a louder crack for the -best favourite she had, though he were standing at her back, and, like -the bellows-blower of an organ, had pumped breath into her lungs to let -the people hear his own good deeds. The performer, who was an adept in -more arts than one, had just then played a somerset, to the great -delight of his pupil John, and was standing on his hands with his heels -erect in the air, when Mrs. Elizabeth Wood entering the hall, and seeing -a pair of human legs in an attitude so totally irreconcileable to her -idea of the proper place, which human legs ought to hold in society, -uttered, as in duty bound, a most violent scream, and in the same breath -announced an order for silencing that horrid trumpet; it had nearly -thrown her lady into fits. That ancient and venerable instrument, (so -called by Mr. De Lancaster) was accordingly for ever laid aside, and -Scaramouch was fain to make his retreat without sound of trumpet; but as -he could tumble, conjure and shew tricks, that would give no offence to -the nervous system of the lady above stairs, it is probable that both -the ladies and gentlemen below stairs suffered him to entertain them -before he left the castle; and as he very politely invited them to be -present at the opening of his theatre in the village, when Punch and -his company would present them with the entertaining interlude of the -Rape of the Sabines, with appropriate screamings by the ladies concerned -in the representation, it is presumed, that not a few of them were -prevailed upon to be present at that interesting exhibition. - -The shock, that Mrs. De Lancaster had received, was by no means feigned. -She had now become a confirmed hypochondriac, and great alarm was -sounded forth by Mr. Llewellyn of an approaching decay, that he -endeavoured to stem by an unceasing course of medicines, which if they -had suited her case, were certainly not sparingly administered; but, as -she regularly grew worse and worse, it occasioned some to doubt whether -they had even the merit of being innocently neutral. - -Thus ended the second abortive effort of our hero’s genius in the -musical department. Not totally discouraged, but cautious of annoying -his unhappy mother, he now betook himself to the humble Jew’s-harp, -whose sibilous strains by long practice and unwearied assiduity he so -contrived to modulate and diversify, as obtained for him the reputation, -amongst the servants at least, of executing some of the familiar Welch -airs in a style, that seemed the very echo of David Williams’s harp. - -For this small accomplishment he was indebted to his genius only: There -were however other arts, in which he exercised himself under tuition. By -the favour of the gamekeeper he became an expert shooter at a mark, and, -since Colonel Wilson had returned, he put himself under the command of -his servant, a disabled veteran, who taught him to perform all the -motions of the manual and platoon so correctly, that the effects of this -discipline soon became conspicuous in the firmness of his step, and the -uprightness of his carriage. - -When report was made to De Lancaster of his grandson’s wonderful -performances on the Jew’s-harp, he expressed more joy on the occasion -than the meanness of the instrument seemed to merit, and immediately -signified his pleasure, that the young minstrel should be summoned to -the dinner-room, where he was then sitting with Colonel Wilson, and at -the same time ordered the servant to bring the harp after him, for that -he would himself witness his performance. - -When the servant had gone out to find the performer, the old gentleman -intimated to Wilson, that he hoped he would have his harp put in order -before he brought it with him, as he did not greatly relish the ceremony -of tuning--I confess, added he, I am curious to see the construction of -this Jewish harp; though I dare say it is the harp with crooked arms, -described by Hyginus, and played upon with the plectrum, which I am bold -to affirm was the practice of king David. - -To all this Wilson maliciously made no other reply, but that he believed -the harp had crooked arms.--I was sure of it, said De Lancaster. Upon -the word, young John came in, and being asked where his harp was, -immediately applied it to his lips, and began to twang it in his very -best manner. In the name of wonder, exclaimed De Lancaster, what is the -boy about? Is he playing on the plectrum? No, cried he, I am going to -give you Shenkin. - -He went on, and the grandfather heard him out, charmed into silence by -the novelty and ingenuity of the performance. When he had played the -air, which he did with great correctness of imitation, in the style of -David Williams, the old gentleman, turning to him with a smile, -said--Well, my good boy, you have done your part, and though your harp, -I confess, has disappointed me, your art has made up for it. This is the -first time I ever knew the harp was a wind instrument, and if the Jews -have the credit of inventing your machine, you have the credit of making -music out of it. Then, addressing himself to Colonel Wilson, he -observed, that the exact manner, in which he had imitated the style of -David Williams, brought to his recollection Ælian’s anecdote of the -famous Polygnotus of Thasos, whose magnificent paintings were so -correctly copied in miniature by Dionysius of Colophon, as to preserve -the whole spirit and excellence of the original in all its due -proportions, though upon the smallest scale. Having examined the Jew’s -harp, he observed, that this was one more instrument than he had ever -seen, or heard of before, and asked who taught him. Upon his replying -that he had taught himself, he turned to Wilson with an air of triumph, -and said--This proves what I have always maintained, that nature is the -best instructress. - -In some things perhaps, said the Colonel. I presume, not in all. - -I am not sure, said De Lancaster, that exception should be made of any. -John had a master for the harp: he made nothing of it: he takes up that -paltry scrap of iron, and makes admirable music. Such is the difference -betwixt the natural emanations of genius, and the laboured efforts, that -are extorted from the pupil by the lessons of a teacher. - -John, who probably foresaw something coming forward, which he was not -interested to partake of, now stept up to his grandfather, and asked -leave to ride over to Glen-Morgan, and pass a day there.--Why to pass a -day?--Because he would go over to Denbigh, and execute a little -commission, which the poor soldier on his death-bed had requested him to -fulfil.--Of what nature was that commission?--Simply to deliver a little -token to the daughter of Captain Jones, which that officer had entrusted -to the care of his faithful servant the soldier, but which the poor -fellow did not live to execute.--What was the little token he was to -carry?--Pray, don’t ask me that, said the youth, and above all things -don’t let my mother know a word about the matter. It would be very much -to the honour of the poor soldier, if I told you all; but I hope you -won’t require me to do that.--On no account, replied De Lancaster, will -I make any such demand upon you. If you will take my coach, ’tis at your -service; if you had rather ride, let Ben the groom attend you, and give -your orders accordingly. - -John took the hand of his grandfather, kissed it, nodded with a smile to -the colonel, and hastened out of the room. - -You have a treasure in that noble boy, said Wilson; but I hope, my good -friend, he will not be suffered to go on any longer without education, -because he can play upon the Jew’s-harp without a master. Don’t be -offended with me, if I seem to step out of my office, when I speak to -one of your great knowledge in the learned languages, but I presume you -hardly can expect your grandson to understand Greek and Latin, unless he -has a teacher. - -Perhaps not, replied De Lancaster; yet, if it were so to happen, it -would not be the first wonder of the sort, that hath come to pass. It is -well known what prodigies of learning have started up into notice, even -in their infant years, and possessed themselves of arts, sciences and -languages, without being ever put into the trammels of a teacher. - -Indeed! cried the colonel. - -Assuredly, replied the assertor, though it may not have fallen in your -way to be certified of the fact. I could, if necessary, adduce a host -of witnesses to attest the wonders, that have been effected by the human -genius, unassisted with instruction; but as your profession, Colonel -Wilson, has probably occupied too much of your attention to allow of -your turning your thoughts to enquiries of this cast, the things I might -relate of Lipsius, of Quirino, Alphonsus Tostatus and many others of -equal celebrity might appear to you incredible. - -Very likely, interjected the colonel. - -Yet are they, every one, supported by irrefragable authorities. The mind -of man, my friend, is in itself a miracle, and persons, who have been -predestined to extraordinary occasions, have been born under -extraordinary circumstances, as was the case with Luther, who, whilst he -was yet an infant at the breast, maintained a Latin thesis against the -Pope’s infallibility, which gave rise to the saying, that he sucked in -controversy with his mother’s milk. - -My very good and learned friend, said Wilson, that you have somewhere -crossed upon this idle legend, amongst the boundless mass of books that -you have consulted I am well persuaded; but that you will commit your -excellent understanding by stating it in serious proof of the question -we are upon I am loth to suppose. When I believe your account of -Luther’s coming into the world with a square cap and gown, I will -believe his thesis at the breast, and, when I believe that, I will not -dispute the story of the prolific lady, who was delivered of three -hundred and sixty-five children at a birth. - -I dare say you will not dispute it, rejoined De Lancaster, when you -hear the evidences for the truth of it. The prolific lady, you allude -to, was the Countess Herman of Henneberg, daughter of Count Floris, Earl -of Holland, Zealand and Friesland, and son of William of Holland, first -of that name; Floris was treacherously slain by the old Earl of Clermont -at a public triumph, and left behind him this daughter Margaret, who -married the aforesaid Count Herman of Henneberg. She, despising the -petition of a poor widow, who with twins at her breast asked charity, -gave her very reproachful words withal; whereupon the widow, failing on -her knees, appealed to Heaven in vindication of her innocency, and -earnestly prayed, that as she had conceived and brought forth those two -infants lawfully by her husband, even so, if ever that lady should be -pregnant, she might be visited with as many children at a birth as -there were days in the year. Not long after, the lady conceived, and -went into Holland to visit the earl her brother, taking up her abode in -the abbey of religious women at Leyden, where on the Friday before Palm -Sunday in the year 1276 she was delivered of three hundred and -sixty-five children, the one half being sons and the other daughters, -but the odd babe was double-sexed. They were all baptised by Guydon, -suffragan to the bishop of Utrecht, who named all the sons John, and the -daughters Elizabeth, but what name he gave to the odd child, said De -Lancaster with much gravity, I must own to you I do not find recorded. - -John-Elizabeth for a certainty, said the Colonel. It may be so, resumed -the narrator; but I hazard no conjectures, I only detail facts. They -were however no sooner baptised than they all died, and the mother -likewise. Their two baptismal basins are still preserved, and have been -by me seen and examined in the said church at Leyden, together with the -inscription on the Countess’s tomb in Latin and in Dutch, the former -beginning thus--_Margareta, Comitis Hennebergiæ uxor, et Florentii -Hollandiæ et Zelandiæ filia, &c. &c._ Underneath is the following -distich, the first line of which has been some how or other curtailed of -its proper metrical proportion, as you will perceive-- - - --_En tibi monstrosum et memorabile factum,_ - _Quale nec a mundi conditione datum._ - -Here Robert De Lancaster, having closed his narrative, turned a look -upon his friend, that seemed to appeal to him for his judgment on the -case. The colonel made no reply, and it may be presumed that the -appellant set down his silence to the score of his conviction. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_Our Hero’s Visit to Amelia Jones._ - - -John and old Ben, carrying his personals in a pair of saddle bags, were -on their way to Glen-Morgan the next morning before sun-rise. Ben was an -excellent guide across Welch moors and mountains, and did not confine -himself to the roads, that were in use, but had the art of steering to -his point with great œconomy of time and distance. It was a gleam of joy -to poor old Morgan to behold his grandson, for he was fond and John was -affectionate. Every body in the house ran to pay him their respects: the -green and red liveries were taken off their pegs, and dinner was served -up in state as to the heir-apparent. The parson, lawyer and apothecary -were in their places, the old butler in gala, and Mrs. Richards with her -attendant housemaids in high requisition. - -After an early breakfast the next morning John set off for Denbigh, and -presented himself at the door of Mrs. Jennings, who received him with -all possible courtesy: when informed of the matter he was charged with, -and of his wish to see Amelia, she was summoned, and ready at the call, -ran down stairs, and was instantly in the room: upon seeing a stranger, -she stopped short, fixed her eyes upon him and made a curtsey: John -rose, bowed, and seized at once with admiration and surprize, (not -expecting to be encountered by an object of such striking beauty) seemed -to have lost all recollection of his errand, and stood as if he had no -other business but to gaze in silence. As the embarrassment was now -becoming reciprocal, Mrs. Jennings thought it was high time to remind -him of the commission he had imparted to her. Having lost the words, -with which he meant to preface the delivery of the little pacquet, he -produced it at once, and having delivered it to Amelia, endeavoured to -relate what it was, and how he came by it. His narrative was not very -distinctly given, and as soon as he perceived the effect it was likely -to produce, he stopped short, and looked to Mrs. Jennings for relief. -The lovely girl received it with a trembling hand, and whilst she -murmured out her thanks, opened the pacquet, snatched a momentary glance -upon the relique it contained, and would have sunk upon the floor, had -not John eagerly interposed, and throwing himself on one knee, supported -her in his arms, her head reclining on his shoulder. - -When she had recovered, Amelia followed by Mrs. Jennings left the room, -and John remained in solitary meditation for a few minutes, till the -lady of the house returned and made the joint apologies of Amelia and -herself for having left him so abruptly. As soon as he was certified -that there was no further cause for alarm, he began to describe to Mrs. -Jennings how much he was enchanted and surprised by the uncommon beauty -of her lovely charge, who, when he had prepared himself to see a little -girl running into the room, had presented herself to him with all the -graces of a finished woman, elegant in her manners and charming in her -person. - -Perhaps, said Mrs. Jennings, you were not aware that my poor orphan is -but two years younger than yourself. As to the beauty, which you are -pleased to notice, I rather think it is more a promise than an actual -possession; but of her more essential good qualities I can confidently -speak; for a better disposition, greater modesty of nature and -benevolence of heart I never yet contemplated in human creature. To -these virtues she was born; these at least, poor child, she inherits -from her parents, and I think that portrait fronting you, which you are -now looking at, conveys no slight impression of an amiable and noble -character; it is a striking likeness of her father, taken by an eminent -artist, who was a visitor at Glen-Morgan, when Captain Jones passed a -few days with your grandfather, before his embarking for the West -Indies, which I well remember he did on the very day that you were born -at Kray Castle. - -And to the very day, on which I cease to live, exclaimed our hero, -raising his voice, and directing his eyes to the portrait, I swear I -will devote myself to the protection of his orphan daughter. Unhappy, -gallant man! I have his history from his faithful soldier. Would he -could hear me! I almost can believe he does; for mark, how tenderly his -eyes are turned upon me. Ah sweet Amelia, what I may be I know not, but -yours in every faithful service I shall be. Our first acquaintance has -commenced in sorrow; Heaven grant, it may grow up and ripen into joy. - -This said, he turned his eyes from the picture, and behold they lighted -on Amelia, standing by his side. Surprised, confused, and doubting -whether he beheld a vision or reality, he threw his arms about her, -clasped her to his heart, and in his transport pressed his glowing lips -upon her blushing cheek. Then rushing to the door--Pardon me, he -cried--and vanished with love’s arrow in his heart. - -Ah madam, ah my friend, exclaimed the trembling girl, succour me, save -me, or I am undone. If this young heir of two such rich and ancient -families does not at once resolve never to waste a thought on me, what -will become of me? What will his grandfather, whose bread I eat, what -will his mother say? The house of De Lancaster will rise against me, -and I must fly to labour for my living, or involve you in my ruin. - -It is even so, my child, and you discern your danger rightly. He is a -noble, generous youth, but he never can be yours in any time to come, -and you must cautiously avoid him. As for what passed just now, you must -think no more of it. Young spirits, taken by surprise, will break out -unawares, and you must forgive him. - -Forgive him! cried Amelia; yes, it is easy to forgive him, but when -shall I be able to forget him? Never. - -Whilst this conversation was carrying on, a note was delivered to Mrs. -Jennings, in which she read as follows.-- - - “Madam, - - “I cannot leave this place till you assure me that Miss Jones has - recovered from the alarm, which my inconsiderate conduct was the - cause of, and that I have not offended past forgiveness. - - I have the honour to be, &c. - “John De Lancaster.” - -To this Mrs. Jennings instantly returned the following answer-- - - “Sir, - - You have given no offence to Amelia Jones, but as you know the - delicacy, that is due to a destitute young orphan in her dependant - situation, I am sure your sensibility will remind you how necessary - it will be for her peace, and how consistent with your honour, to - leave her in her obscurity, and suffer me to hope this interview - will be the last. - - “&c. &c.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_Business, long postponed, is at length concluded to the Satisfaction of -all Parties._ - - -We have before observed, that opposition of opinions made no breach in -friendship between the worthy parties, who were in the habit of carrying -on the debates, that occurred at Kray Castle. In the first place it is -not certain that Robert De Lancaster was in all cases tenacious of his -argument merely from conviction of its strength, but partly perhaps from -attachment to it for its singularity, and the occasion it afforded him -oftentimes of displaying that fund of philological erudition, which he -indisputably possessed: in the second place, it is not to be denied, -that whenever he was absolutely convinced of the opinion he defended, -he was not apt to think the worse of it, because his friend Wilson could -not be brought to adopt it. - -As his researches had chiefly carried him to those authorities, of which -the classical scholar takes no account, so by arming himself with them -in the lists of controversy, he fought with weapons, and made -left-handed thrusts, that even literary men could rarely parry, and -Colonel Wilson never. So equipped, he could lay down a proposition, -which nobody would dispute, and draw inferences from it which nobody -could admit: but let this be considered rather as an exercise of his -ingenuity, than as a defect in his understanding. - -Colonel Wilson, who loved the man, and understood his character, saw -with infinite regret his indecision as to the education of his -grandson, whose strong natural understanding demanded cultivation, and -whose handsome person was now ripening into early manhood. Edward, the -younger son of Colonel Wilson had now left the university, having -obtained every honour, that either his classical or academical exercises -could procure for him. He had been ordained deacon, and was now of age -to take priest’s orders. He also contemplated our neglected hero with -compassionate regret, and had taken up a very favourable impression both -of his talents and disposition. He thought with his father on the side -of public education in general, but he did not consider himself upon -those terms with Mr. De Lancaster, which would warrant him to volunteer -any opinion upon the subject. - -The opportunity, which he did not venture to seek, one day presented -itself, when De Lancaster, sitting after dinner, addressed himself to -the colonel, and said--I believe I am aware of most of the arguments, -that are usually adduced in favour of a public school, and am so far -from questioning the good sense of those parents, who make that system -of education their choice, that I could almost admit, that out of a -hundred cases it is the wisest course, which can be taken in ninety and -nine: the only question with me is, whether mine be not exactly that -single exception. If I wished to cherish in my grandson’s heart that -early spirit of emulation, which might urge him to the pursuits of fame -and fortune in either of the liberal professions, a public school would -be the proper nursery for his ambition; but that is not my wish. If he -can creditably support the independent station, which his ancestors have -held for many generations past, I aim at nothing more; and surely, when -I admit that public schools are the fittest nurseries for public -characters, I may be allowed to say that private education is properest -for those, who are destined to fill private stations. If John De -Lancaster survives to be the owner of Kray-Castle (which Heaven grant!) -I hope he will there establish his abode, and be found the protector of -merit, the friend of his tenants and the father of the poor. He might do -this without the help of any of the heathen writers, either Greeks or -Romans; but I don’t wish to exclude them; a gentleman should not be -unacquainted with them; though I am painfully and penitently convinced -he may bestow too large a portion of his time upon them. Plutarch in his -treatise, that Grotius has prefixed to his edition of Stobæus, debates -the question how young students are to read the poets, to what extent -and under what exceptions: It is a heavy and Bœotian work, that talks of -many things, and teaches nothing. In this country we manufacture our -children, male and female, and by the labour of the workman attempt to -give them all the same polish, let the materials they are composed of be -ever so inert and heavy. Nobody taught the nightingale to sing, yet -every foolish father and mother conceive they can teach their jackdaw to -carol like that heaven-born songstress. It is lost labour to manure and -dress a soil, in which there is no principle of vegetation. This I trust -is not the case with my grandson John: He is a manly, sensible, -honorable boy, and has given striking proof of a benevolent heart in his -conduct towards the poor soldier, who died in my house; this he did -without instruction from his Horace or his Juvenal, and this perhaps he -would not have had an opportunity of doing at a public school; at all -events I should not have had the opportunity of witnessing it. I -therefore give my preference to a private and domestic education. Now, -Mr. Edward Wilson, you, who are covered with laurels, worthily bestowed -upon you by your venerable Alma Mater, if you think I am in error, -convince me of my error, and you will not find me backward to retract my -opinion and adopt a better. - -To give my opinion, replied Edward Wilson, in a question of such -magnitude would in all cases be presumptuous, but to obtrude it in -contradiction to your superior judgment would be unpardonable. -Circumstanced however as your grandson is in point of age and -understanding, I hold him so unfitted for a station at the very bottom -of a public school, that even without adverting to the very strong -motives, which you assign for education under your own eye, I answer -without hesitation, that my sentiments perfectly agree and coincide with -yours. - -I am made very happy by your approbation, said De Lancaster, and now I -must tell you, Mr. Wilson, that an event has been announced to me by -this letter, which in one sense I must consider as a loss, in another as -a gain. My loss is that of an old acquaintance and contemporary, the -late Reverend Dr. Mathew Philips; my gain is the opportunity it affords -me of tendering to you the benefice, which he held by my gift--I -perceive you are about to thank me, but I must request that neither you -nor your father will oppress me on this occasion--for in making you this -offer I do it from my firm persuasion of your fitness, and not merely -through my friendship for your worthy father, which, great and sincere -although it be, would never bias me against my conscience to commit the -charge of souls into the hands of any man, of whose sufficiency I had -cause to doubt. Spare yourselves therefore and me the needless ceremony -of bestowing thanks, where in reality they are not due; for what would -you say, if it should turn out, that I have an object in my view, which -would at once convince you, that in serving you I have not overlooked -myself? - -Name the object, I beseech you, Sir, said Edward; and if you hold me -capable of the undertaking, command me! - -I perceive you have anticipated my suit, resumed De Lancaster. John, my -grandson, is as yet the only stay and support of an antient and not -ignoble family. Your father has remonstrated with me on the subject of -his neglected education. His motives were friendly, and he made them -known: mine for my seeming negligence had reference to the event, which -I knew to be impending, and has now come to pass, though I could not in -delicacy impart it to him. It was the wish of my heart, dear Edward, to -commit the education of my boy to you; but I confess, such is my nature, -and so am I constituted, that, until I had it in my power to confer a -small favour upon you, I could not ask you to bestow a very great one -upon me. - -I am deeply sensible, said Edward, of the honour I derive from your good -opinion, but I am also aware of the importance and difficulty of the -undertaking. That I can teach your grandson Greek and Latin, if he is -disposed to learn, there is little doubt; but when I consider that -amongst my many duties this perhaps will be the lightest, I must look to -you for advice as to the system of education, which you would recommend -me to pursue as we advance in what may be called the beaten track of -school-learning. I confess to you I see no danger in those studies to -the man of deep erudition, but much to the superficial and shallow -scholar, for the morality of the heathen writers is not in all respects -the morality of the gospel, and the philosophy of the Greeks is in no -respect the religion of a christian. - -Your observation, said De Lancaster, is perfectly just; but as this is a -subject that will require some fore-thought, I will turn it in my mind, -and give you my opinion upon the first opportunity, that shall occur. -Mr. Philip de Lancaster is now from home, and I think he should by all -means be present at our discussion, that if he does not interest himself -in what so materially concerns his son, he may at least be convinced -that we do. - -The topic being thus adjourned, their conversation turned to other -subjects, not important to record. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_Our young Hero accidentally meets Sir Arthur Floyd, and Mr. Philip De -Lancaster visits a certain Lady at Penruth Abbey._ - - -In the morning of the third day young John De Lancaster left -Glen-Morgan, and set out on his return to Kray Castle. As he was passing -through part of the grounds belonging to Sir Arthur Floyd, whose house -was within sight from his road, he chanced to meet that gentleman, as he -was taking his ride about his demesne. Sir Arthur accosted him with much -civility, and adverting to the accident, that had befallen him in the -field, when he was out with Sir Owen’s hounds, expressed his concern for -the unpleasant consequences that had ensued, and hoped it would not -discourage him from coming out again. - -I shall not easily be tempted to come out when Mr. David Owen is in the -field. - -I hope, returned the baronet, you do not consider it as a purposed -injury on the part of that young gentleman. - -I don’t suppose the gentleman could exactly instruct the horse he rode -to throw dirt in my face, and almost put my eyes out; but I am not -obliged to the gentleman for looking back and laughing at me, when he -discovered the condition I was in. - -I trust, resumed Sir Arthur, he did not know the extent of the mischief -he had done, and when he did know it, I hope he made those enquiries, -which it behoved him to make in such a case. - -I don’t suppose, said John, Mr. Owen thought that necessary. He had -enjoyed his joke, and was not curious to enquire how I had relished -it--but I have simply answered your questions, Sir Arthur; when I have -serious cause to resent Mr. Owen’s treatment of me, I shall look to him -only for redress. - -I hope, young gentleman, said Sir Arthur gravely, you will not consider -me as a busy body in this affair between you, for though my habits of -intimacy are chiefly with the house of Owen, I have all possible respect -for your worthy grandfather, and every one, that bears his name. If I -seem to intrude upon you therefore with any further questions, believe -me it is only in the hope of setting matters straight, which at present -appear to be rather out of course, and accordingly I beg leave to ask -you as to the truth of a report, that circulates about the neighbourhood -respecting a poor distressed soldier, who received charity from you at -your house, and is said to have been very harshly treated at the abbey -door, when supplicating for relief, by young Owen in person. - -Such I believe to be the fact, was the answer. - -It tells much to the dishonour of the party in question, that being the -fact; but if the soldier be still within reach, I hope you will allow me -to tender you these few guineas for his use on the part of my young -friend David Owen, as an atonement for his oversight. - -A piece of bread and a draught of beer might have been of use, but the -money is of none. The man is dead. - -My God!--cried Sir Arthur; turned a look of marked regard upon our hero, -bowed and rode off. - -Mr. Philip De Lancaster had of late stepped a little out of his -non-elastic character, and been rambling from the castle every forenoon -between the hours of breakfast and dinner. Nobody was curious to trace -him in these excursions, but it could not fail to be discovered, that -his visits were to the Spanish lady at the abbey house of Penruth. To -say that Philip was in love with Mrs. Owen might be to mistake a habit -for a passion; he was in the habit of turning his poney’s head -abbey-ward, as soon as he had sallied from the castle-gate, and poney -was in the habit of going on without any turn at all till he stopped at -the aforesaid abbey door. When Philip dismounted, Mrs. Owen’s lacquey -was also in the habit of ushering him to his lady’s sitting-room, where -he silently took his chair and his chance for being spoken to, when the -lady was in the humour and at leisure to speak to him. - -The first remark, that had ever dropped from Mr. De Lancaster with -respect to Philip’s absence, occurred in his discourse with the Wilsons -about John’s education, and it so happened that Mrs. Owen in her tete à -tete that very morning had been rather more disposed to extort a -conversation than was usual with her, when the following very -interesting dialogue ensued. - -I conclude, said the lady, that this extraordinary melancholy, which -seems to hang eternally upon you, my good friend, can only be accounted -for by your concern for Mrs. De Lancaster’s dismal state of health and -spirits. - -Not at all, said Philip: that’s not it. - -What is it then? What in the name of wonder can it be? - -I can’t tell. It comes of its own accord. - -I don’t know how to believe you. There must be some cause: as sure as -can be you have caught the hip of your hypochondriac wife. - -I have nothing to do with any hip of hers. I never go near her: that’s -agreed between us. - -A happy release, if what I hear be true. Then you have no domestic -troubles. - -None at all: quite free. - -Why then so gloomy? What annoys you, what possesses you so wholly, that -you seem almost to have lost the very use of speech? Are you in love, my -friend? - -Not with my wife. - -With any body else? - -With any body rather than with her. - -With me, for instance-- - -Oh, with you sooner than with any body. I visit nobody but you. - -True, but I thought you visited me from habit, not from liking. - -I like you very much. - -What shall I do to encrease your liking? - -Nothing. It encreases quite fast enough without your help. - -Bless me! That’s lucky; for to say the truth I have not been aware of -it. But I am so surprised, and so flattered by it, that I would fain -take some pains to cultivate so agreeable an impression. - -You need not. There’s no occasion to trouble yourself about it. - -Should not I contrive to make myself a little younger? - -I don’t wish it. - -A good deal handsomer? - -It is not possible. - -A great deal fairer? - -That would entirely spoil the beauty of your complexion. - -Well! that is charming. I protest you make me the politest speeches; but -alas! they go for nothing. No woman of discretion should encourage the -attachment of a man that’s married. - -I may not always be a married man. - -That’s true; but then perhaps you’d change your tone. - -Never. - -Were I quite sure of that, I would not listen to Sir Arthur Floyd; nor -indeed to any body in Sir Owen’s life time--but recollect we have each a -son. What must we do with them? They’ll never set their horses up -together. What is the reason that they don’t agree? I doubt your -youngster is a little proud. Isn’t it so? - -I know nothing of him. - -My David does not like him, I assure you. He says he is certain you are -not his father. - -I know nothing of that also. - -He never speaks of him by the name of John De Lancaster; he calls him -Jack Jones after the name of your wife’s favourite lover Captain Jones, -for whom she is so inconsolable. - -Why now that’s wonderful--I can’t think how that secret could get out. - -Secret, my friend! You are much mistaken if you think it is any secret. -They say he is as like that Jones as ever son was like a father--but I -am talking treason, and you must not betray me--People you know will be -censorious, and it is rather remarkable, that since Jones’s death she -has never added to your family stock. - -There’s nothing remarkable in that, if the talking people knew what they -talked about. - -Why certainly, were the case as they give out, one son of that sort is -quite enough, and were I in your place I should be apt to think him one -more than was welcome. - -I am at no trouble about him. His grandfather and his aunt are at all -the pains of spoiling him. - -Not by overmuch education I should think. Begging the young gentleman’s -pardon, I take him to be a most egregious dunce. - -Oh! if you take him to be that, I shall take him to be my own son. But -with your leave we’ll say no more about him. - -Agreed! Besides I know your time is nearly out. This however I must tell -you in secret--Sir Owen’s life is despaired of, and his whole estate is -settled and entailed upon my son: David will soon be of age, and -probably I shall then have some other residence to seek. Your father I -understand is in his seventy-fifth year, and your son in his fifteenth. -A short time according to the course of nature may set us both free. In -the mean time let me see you as frequently as you can contrive, and if I -have been fortunate enough to make an impression on your heart, be -assured you have interested mine no less; and so long as you continue to -persuade me that I am agreeable in your eyes, neither Sir Arthur Floyd, -nor any man, shall be other than indifferent to me. - -Having said this, she reached out her hand, the gallant Philip pressed -it to his lips, made his reverence, and departed. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_Mr. De Lancaster descants upon the Duties of a Preceptor in the learned -Languages._ - - -It is probably in the reader’s recollection, that De Lancaster in his -last conversation with the Reverend Edward Wilson, had promised to -collect his thoughts, and offer his opinion on the duties of a preceptor -in the learned languages. There was little danger of his forgetting that -promise, nor any likelihood of his being unprepared to execute it, for -his mind was fully stored with all the several systems of the Greek -philosophers. - -After breakfast the next morning he desired Philip to accompany him and -the Wilsons, father and son, into his library. This was not exactly the -thing, that Philip had meditated to do, but it was what he could not -escape from. He was not however hooked without a small struggle to get -free, for as soon as he understood it was to be a cabinet council on the -topic of his son’s education, he humbly moved for exemption on the plea -of his entire acquiescence in his father’s will and pleasure, modestly -declaring that he did not hold himself entitled to form any opinion in -the case--besides, he should be glad to take a little air, for his -health’s sake. - -I hope, son Philip, said the old gentleman gravely, neither your health, -nor happiness, and give me leave to add--nor your honour can suffer, if -you bestow one hour upon your duty to your son, even at the expence of -your accustomed devoirs to the lady at the abbey. - -This was answer quite enough for Philip, who walked doggedly into the -lecture room, and took his seat in a corner of it, as far out of the -reach of instruction or notice, as he could devise. Edward Wilson took -the left hand seat by De Lancaster’s arm-chair, and the colonel seated -himself on the other side of the fire place, in front of the old -gentleman; Philip, as I before observed, falling into the back-ground, -and behind his father. - -After two or three preparatory hums, like the tap of the first fiddle, -as a signal for attention, De Lancaster commenced his harangue, as -follows--Mr. Edward Wilson, I address myself to you in particular, -because what you remarked at the close of our late conversation is -perfectly in my recollection, and convinces me, that my opinions can -only tend to confirm what your own judgment and observation have pointed -out. I am now assured, that when you commit your pupil to the reading of -those heathen authors, whose writings yet exist, though their languages -be dead, you will not suffer his principles to come into collision with -theirs, till they are fundamentally and firmly established upon faith in -revelation; for where that does not reach, all must be error, seeing -that the human understanding, how acute so ever, cannot upon mere -conjecture account for the operations of divine wisdom unless by the aid -of a divine communication. All, who without that aid have attempted to -discuss the question of _first causes_, have puzzled and perplexed -themselves and others. A sound scholar can readily confute their -systems; a shallow one, as you well observed, may be entangled by their -subtilties. In short, they are at the best but blind guides; most of -them are mischievous logicians, and many of them systematic atheists; -for collect their several tenets, and I am warranted to say you shall -find they are all to be classed, either amongst those, who hold the -world to be eternal both as to matter and form, or those, who hold the -matter to be eternal, whilst the form is not. You are no doubt aware, -that neither Aristotle nor Plato admit a creation of the world, or -acknowledge any time when it was not: Aristotle maintaining that it was -an eternal and necessary emanation from the divine nature; Plato, that -it was an eternal and voluntary effect. Now if what God must have willed -from all time he must from all time have done, where is the distinction -betwixt Plato’s volition and Aristotle’s necessity? In these opinions -are to be found all the component parts of modern atheism. The monstrous -system of Spinosa is principally to be traced in the doctrines of the -Eleatic school, of which Xenophanes was the founder; he was succeeded by -Parmenides, Melissus and Zeno of Elea: his doctrines, which were -delivered in verse and with great obscurity, were adopted by Hilpo and -the Megaric philosophers, and these were supposed to be the eternity and -immutability of the world. Strato of Lampsacus, whom Plutarch calls the -greatest of the Peripatetics, made nature inanimate, and at the same -time owned no God but nature. The Stoics had their dogma of the soul of -the world; the Epicureans held that God is matter, or not distinct from -matter; that all things are essentially God, that forms are imaginary -accidents, which have no real existence, and that all things are -substantially the same. I believe I need go no further with the Greek -philosophers, for in these you have nearly the abstract amount of their -opinions, and the sources of all modern infidelity. As for the -cosmogonies of the Phœnicians, Egyptians and Babylonians, which derive -the world from mechanical principles only, they are immediately -introductive of atheism, as Eusebius of Cæsarea observes of -Sanchoniatho, whose fragment he preserved, and Berosus of the Babylonian -cosmogony, of which nation he himself was. To the doctrines of Orpheus -the theologer I have no objection; with him your pupil will be safe. -Hesiod is only fanciful. Of Thales the hylopathian, whose principle of -things was water, I should doubt whether he was theist or atheist; but -of his scholar Anaximander no doubt can be entertained; his system is -professedly atheistical; the same principle descends and may be traced -through Anaximenes, Anaxagoras and Diogenes of Apollonia, in a word, -through all the masters of the Ionic school. Turn to Leucippus and -Democritus, to Epicurus and all, who held the doctrine of atoms, what do -you discover but the blindest ignorance and the grossest atheism? As for -their celebrated physician Hippocrates, who, following the example of -Hippasus and Heraclitus the obscure, held heat or fire to be immortal -and omniscient, in one word God himself, I can only say it would have -been safer to have taken his physic than his philosophy--but I have too -long intruded on your patience, and forbear the rest. - -When Edward Wilson perceived that De Lancaster had done speaking, being -unable to discover how this harangue could be brought into use for any -present purpose, and conceiving himself not called upon to say that he -would not put a pupil to read the Greek philosophers, who had not yet -read the first leaf of his Latin grammar, he bowed and was silent. -Philip sate with his hands upon his knees in the attitude of a hearer, -and seemed employed upon a very close examination of his boots, as if in -search of information from them; but they knew just as much, and no -more, of the subject than he himself did.--I wonder why I was called in -to hear all this, he said to himself, who know no more what he has been -talking about than if he had expressed himself in the Hebrew language. -The colonel on the contrary was under no reserve, but turning to De -Lancaster, said, I cannot doubt, my good sir, but that all, which you -have been saying, would be excellent advice to a student far advanced in -his knowledge of the learned languages, but in the instance of my friend -John I presume the time, when it can apply to him, lies yet at a -considerable distance. - -You are right, replied De Lancaster, and therefore as I cannot expect to -say it then, I take the liberty to say it now. - -The man, whose ridicule could not have been disarmed by the candour of -this temperate reply, must have had a heart very differently made from -that of Colonel Wilson; and as for Edward he immediately found his -voice, and was liberal of his thanks for the instruction he had -received. I shall hardly expect, he said, to do more for my pupil, than -to make him acquainted with some of the best and purest classics, so as -to form his taste, and qualify him to take his part in those circles, in -which he ought to be found: But if he should contract a passion for -literature, I shall bear in mind what you have been inculcating, and -hope it will be my good fortune to find his understanding stored with -such defences, as no false reasoning shall be likely to undermine. This -object will be ever nearest to my heart, and as I am sure I have an -excellent disposition to work upon, I trust your grandson will grow up, -if God gives him life, to be an honour to his name and nation. - -I am satisfied, said De Lancaster, and have not another word to offer. - -That is lucky, quoth Philip, as his father walked out of the room; for I -am yet in time to take my ride. This was overheard by Colonel Wilson, -and provoked him to say to Philip--If you are going to take your usual -ride to the Abbey, I hope you will recollect by the way your obligations -to a father, the matter of whose discourse may have seemed tedious to -you, but whose motive being zeal for the welfare of your son, ought to -be held in honour and respect. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_Mr. De Lancaster proposes to revive certain ancient Modes of curing -Diseases._ - - -A project had been conceived by Mr. De Lancaster for calling together an -assembly of the chief neighbouring minstrels on Saint Cecilia’s day, in -which he had the double purpose of patronizing that ancient British -instrument, which he had so much at heart, and at the same time paying a -side-way compliment to his daughter, named after that harmonious saint. - -Great preparations were now going forward for celebrating that musical -festival (which was a kind of revival of the ancient eisteddfods) with -becoming splendour. Invitations had been circulated to all the -neighbouring gentry; notices were dispersed over the country for -assembling the most celebrated harpers, and David Williams was warmly -engaged in making daily libations of metheglin to propitiate his muse -for that grand occasion. - -The castle hall in the mean time resounded with the hammers of the -workmen, employed in erecting a stage for the minstrels, and in fitting -up seats and benches for the company. The banners were overhauled, taken -down and cleaned, and a great display of these and warlike weapons was -disposed in groups and trophies under the direction of Colonel Wilson. -Cecilia’s province was to superintend supplies, and adapt the several -entertainments to the several degrees of guests, to whom they were -allotted. - -Philip De Lancaster still maintained his natural tranquillity, though -from some cause, or it might be from none, he had abated of the -frequency of his visits to the abbey. He gave himself however no trouble -in a business perfectly indifferent to him: the utmost stretch of his -exertions went no further than to the making of an artificial fly for -angling in a stream, where there were no trout, and Wilson had but -little time to spare for chess. Two qualifications Philip had to boast -of; the one was that of being an excellent and unwearied hearer, so long -as any other person would take the trouble of talking; the other, that -of an everlasting sleeper, provided nobody would put him to the trouble -of waking. Between these two happy properties he could dispose both of -day and of night passably well. - -His lady in the meanwhile contrived to fill up her hours with sighs and -groans, which were echoed back to her in groans and sighs by -sympathizing Betty. Cecilia visited her at leisure times; her son -occasionally, when called for, and her husband by her desire very -rarely, and of his own accord never. Llewellyn was in regular attendance -and full confidence; he pronounced her case to be atrabilious and -hypochondriac in an extreme degree, and as there could be no doubt of -his being right in deciding on the nature of her complaint, it seemed -rather unlucky that he was so unsucessful in removing it. As far however -as the frequency of attendances and repetition of medicines went, Mr. -Llewellyn was clear in conscience. - -One evening, whilst the Colonel and Squire Philip were engaged at chess, -and De Lancaster was tracing out for the edification of Edward Wilson -the route of Solomon’s ships to Ophir for gold, Llewellyn came into the -room to announce his bulletin of the patient above stairs. Philip’s game -was lost, and he had quitted the field; the colonel put the chess-board -by, and all ears were open to the report, of which the sage’s -countenance augured nothing favourable. The question was put to him by -more than one, the answer was--The lady my patient is by no means as I -could wish her.--Then I am afraid, observed the colonel, she is by no -means well. - -I hope that does not absolutely follow, said De Lancaster. - -She is extremely ill, repeated Llewellyn--She is incurable, cried Philip -with an emphasis and in a tone above his usual pitch. - -I think not, replied the father. - -She is the most decided hypochondriac I ever met with, resumed the man -of medicine. - -Pooh! repeated De Lancaster, if my daughter-in-law has no other -complaint than what is caused by melancholy humours and impeded -circulation, she may be cured at once; the remedy is immediate. - -Why; what should cure her? demanded the colonel. - -That, which alone can heal the mind and its diseases, said De Lancaster; -music. - -Whuh! cried Llewellyn, (whistling out his admiration and contempt in an -under-note, not meant to reach the ears of the old gentleman) This is a -new discovery in medicine, and one more than the dispensary has yet -taken notice of. - -Pardon me, resumed De Lancaster, it is no new discovery, but the very -doctrine held by Theophrastus, Aristoxenus and by Pythagoras himself; -the last of whom depended almost entirely on the flute or flagelet for -the expulsion of melancholy; and, as I am no dealer in assertions -without authorities, I shall take the liberty of quoting the very words -of Martianus Capella in his ninth book, which to Mr. Edward Wilson at -least I have no doubt will be familiar, and these they are--_Pythagorei -enim, ferociam animi tibiis aut fidibus mollientes, docuerunt cum -corporibus adhærere nexum fædus animarum_. In this practice however I -must beg leave slightly to differ from the Pythagoreans, and recommend -the harp or lyre in preference, forasmuch as these were the proper -instruments of Apollo, the god of healing, whereas the flute or flagelet -belonged to Tritonia, whose attributes we all know were of a different -description. Let me however do Pythagoras the justice to acknowledge, -that he recommends the lute also as a sedative in the paroxysms of rage -and anger. - -Here the colonel interposed, by observing, that what effect a flute, or -a lute, or a flagelet might have upon the passions of mankind he could -not pretend to say, but he apprehended neither one nor the other could -have any thing to do with their diseases, and to this Llewellyn assented -with a significant nod of approbation. De Lancaster had now got amongst -his sophists and grammarians, and committed himself much too far to halt -upon a nod; he proceeded therefore as follows-- - -Whilst there subsists a sympathy between the senses and the soul, the -intellectual remedy for man must be sought for in harmony. All the -nations under heaven, whether civilized or not, have borne witness to -the powers and effects of music. The Mariandyni, a wild people -inhabiting the confines of Bithynia, made their national music from -pipes, which they formed of the reeds, that grew upon the borders of the -lake Acherusia. The pipe was also the favourite of those mountain -shepherds of Bœotia, called Aonians; whilst the Egyptians with more -ingenuity struck out the complex instrument called Pandura, which was -composed of no less than seven pipes. - -We have in our practice, said Llewellyn, an instrument with one pipe, -but I can’t for my soul conceive the use, that can be made of seven. - -It was doubtless an instrument of no inconsiderable difficulty to the -performer, replied De Lancaster gravely. - -I should not chuse to perform upon it, said the apothecary. - -The good old gentleman was in the high road of philology, and kept -steadily on--The characters of nations, said he, are to be traced in the -different characters of their warlike instruments. The Cretans marched -in compact and orderly phalanx to the solemn sound of the harp: the -Lacedemonians rushed into battle to the high-pitched screaming notes of -the shrill-toned fife; whilst the effeminate Sybarites would not move -without the soft accompaniment of their melodious flutes. - -But which of all these instruments, said the colonel, is to cure Mrs. De -Lancaster? - -Refer that question to Asclepiades, replied De Lancaster, and he will -answer you; Asclepiades will tell you, when the citizens of Prusa were -in actual insurrection, and the city on the point of being laid in -ashes, how he contrived to appease the tumult, and sent them all to -their homes in peace. - -But Mrs. De Lancaster is at home already, said Llewellyn, and peaceable -enough, Heaven knows. How does the case of these rioters apply to her? - -The colonel saw his friend was staggered, and handsomely turned out to -his relief--It is impossible, he said, to foresee what turn a case may -take, therefore it is well to be armed against accidents. I should be -glad if our good friend would tell us how it was that Asclepiades, whom -I have no means of resorting to, contrived to disperse the mob of -incendiaries at Prusa. - -By a song, replied the old gentleman; he dispersed them by the sweet -and soothing melody of a pathetic strain, which assuaged their fury, -and lulled them into peace, as an obstreperous child (for men are only -children of a larger growth) is hushed to sleep by the humming of its -nurse. - -I am perfectly satisfied, said the colonel. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_Mr. Philip De Lancaster determines to adopt the Regimen recommended by -his Father._ - - -The decisive tone, with which Colonel Wilson, at the close of our last -chapter, avowed his perfect satisfaction in De Lancaster’s explanation -of Asclepiades’s receipt for quieting a mob, occasioned such a pause, as -might very probably have put an end to this topic, had not the Reverend -Edward Wilson availed himself of the general silence to revive it. He -had been closely attentive to the progress of this whimsical -dissertation, and sensibly annoyed by the frequent interruptions it had -met with, whereupon, having watched his opportunity, he said--Permit me -to observe, that I, for one of Mr. De Lancaster’s hearers, can never be -perfectly satisfied so long as he shall be pleased to continue to us the -gratification of a discourse, at once so new, and, to me at least, so -highly entertaining and instructive. In several passages of it even my -small share of reading enables me to recognize some of the authorities -he has referred to, and I have no doubt but he is equally warranted in -all others, where I am not able to follow him; and allow me to remark, -that if his information does not in every point apply to the particular -case of the hypochondriac lady, for whose recovery we are interested, -yet even in those points of occasional aberration from the subject, -there is matter well worthy of our attention, and I therefore hope Mr. -De Lancaster will have the goodness to proceed with his dissertation on -the effects of music, as recorded and attested by the ancient writers. - -Reverend sir, said Robert De Lancaster, your remarks are at once so -candid, and your request so flattering to me, that I will contract what -I have further to say in such a manner as shall not weary you, and I -will ground it upon such authorities as shall not mislead you. Damon, -the Pythagorean philosopher, a man not less to be relied upon for his -veracity, than for his friendship and fidelity, by the simple recitation -of the spondean hymn allayed a drunken fray in the streets of Syracuse, -when raging at the height, in an instant, and as it were by magic. - -And pray, said the colonel, what kind of composition was the spondean -hymn? - -It was a hymn, replied De Lancaster, performed by the priests and -minstrels in the heathen temples as a prelude to the ceremony of -sacrifice, and it was called spondean, as consisting of such syllables -only, which gives us to understand the solemn character of the -composition, the object of which was to engage the attention, and -conciliate the favour of their deities, whilst the incense was in -operation. - -If it could do that, said the colonel, and make dead idols serviceable, -I can’t wonder it should make drunken insurgents sober. - -Sir--replied the expounder, (lengthening out the word into a note of -something like asperity) You have not heard me out, else I should have -told you, that ancient sages cured fevers, fits of melancholy, phrensy, -nay, even bodily wounds, by the sanative and enchanting power of song. -Who, that has but dipped into their remedies, can be ignorant, that soft -airs, well executed on the flute, were found to be a never-failing cure -for the sciatica, or hip-gout, as it is called? A host of witnesses -conspire to testify to the truth of what I tell you. Can it have escaped -the notice of any well-read scholar by what means Theophrastus found a -remedy for every malady, every molestation, that could disorder and -disturb the health and temperature of the human mind? Sir, he had an -instrument appropriated to every mental complaint, a pipe tuned to the -pitch of every passion, high or low, flat or sharp. Xenocrates brought -men stark mad to their senses. Thales of Crete drove away fevers, nay, -even the plague itself, by music. Erophilus regulated the pulsation of -the hearts of his patients by the cadences and time-keeping of his lyre. - -We do that quite as correctly by our watches, said Llewellyn. - -De Lancaster took no notice of this, but proceeded--Can you any longer -wonder that the sage, who has made sympathy his study, and is versed in -the science of these harmonious modulations and their respective -energies, should effect those cures, which are recorded of them, and -which, when explained and understood, are no longer hard to be believed? -As for what is fabled of Amphion, Orpheus and others, who by the united -powers of music and legislative poetry succeeded in reforming and -civilizing their barbarous contemporaries, I would not have you to -suppose I cannot distinguish allegory from fact. In the same light I -regard the account, which Suidas gives us of the philosopher Plato, who -was reported to have been begotten of his mother in a vision by the -melody of the harp of Apollo. - -I should be inclined to doubt that, said the colonel. - -Nay, resumed De Lancaster, there is no occasion to debate what nobody -wishes you to believe. You cannot but perceive it is merely an -allegorical compliment to the genius of that extraordinary person, whose -deep researches into the mysterious theory of sounds and numbers having -enabled him to speculate in a very ingenious manner upon the doctrine -of harmony, as connected with the movements of the celestial spheres, -and also with the human soul even after death, was feigned to have been -the very offspring of that harmony, which he developed and applied. -These legends, and the like of these, I know how to appreciate, and with -what latitude they are to be received; at the same time I am not to be -shaken in my confidence, when relying on the ancients, who studied music -as a science, whilst we do little more than practise it as an art, and -of course stand in the like relation to them as fiddlers do to -philosophers. In short, my friends, it is not man alone that is the -slave of harmony, but the whole brute creation also: if stags can be -allured by the pipe; if the fishes in the Alexandrian lake will -surrender themselves to the song of the fisherman; if the hyperborean -swan, if the birds of the air, at once so fearful and so free; nay, if -even the wild elephant of India, and the ear-stricken inhabitants of the -ocean, will yield themselves up to the minstrel, who will tell me, that -a mere moping hypochondriac, like my poor daughter-in-law, might not be -cured of her distempered fancy by the harp of David Williams? - -De Lancaster having closed his argument, and dismissed his witnesses, -the audience broke up; Llewellyn repaired to his patient, Edward Wilson -to his pupil, and Philip whispered to the colonel, that he should be -glad to have a few minutes talk with him in private. This was instantly -complied with, and Philip opened the important conference, as follows-- - -I should wish to know, colonel, if you attended to what my father has -been saying? - -The colonel had attended. - -I am glad of it, said Philip, for I was a little absent now and then, -and have not carried much of it away. But do you believe all those -wonderful things, that he has told us, about music? - -I perfectly believe that your father has told nothing about music, but -what he has vouchers for, though I don’t know where to look for them. - -Nor I neither, Heaven knows, said Philip, for I have no taste for music, -nor can distinguish between one tune and another, except as it is either -loud or soft: if it is the first, it deafens and distracts me; if the -latter, it puts me to sleep. I don’t suppose it is in the art of man to -teach me to sing or play a single tune, though it were to save my life. - -That won’t quite decide the question however, my good friend; for music -certainly can charm others, though it has no charms for you. What I have -seen and witnessed I believe; what I am told I pause upon. Martial music -will animate martial men, and not them only, but the horses also, which -they ride to battle: hounds are sensible to the shouts of the hunter, -and the whole race of dogs to the voices of their masters: birds can be -taught tunes, though you and I cannot, and there are doubtless great and -extraordinary powers in musical sounds, though perhaps all that is said -of those powers may not be exactly as it is stated. - -I should suppose not; for if I was to believe that David Williams with -his harp could cure my melancholy dame of her megrims, don’t you think I -ought in conscience to make the trial? - -I think at least, friend Philip, that the trial would do her no harm; -for if she did not like to hear his music, she could easily put a stop -to it. - -But suppose, colonel, that she should like to hear it; and suppose also -for a moment it should have the same effect upon her as Apollo’s harp -had upon Plato’s mother, whereabouts should I be with a whole nursery of -harp-begotten brats to provide for, conscious at the same time that I -had not touched a single string of the instrument? - -That would be rather hard upon you I confess. - -Lord love you, colonel, even worse things than that might come to pass. -I am very comfortable as I am, but who can tell what a few merry jigs -upon the harp may do? They might be the ruin of my peace for ever. - -Never fear, my good friend, replied the colonel. Depend upon it, you are -in no danger. - -Well! if you think so, said Philip, I will go to David Williams, and put -my wife under a course of serenades directly: It may perhaps please the -Lord, that they shall do her neither good nor harm. - -So saying, Philip left the room, and Wilson went to superintend his -workmen in the hall. - - * * * * * - -I here close the third book and first volume of my history, and, -availing myself of the licence I have assumed in the two preceding -books, I stop progress to look back upon what hitherto has been done: no -mighty matter I confess; yet it has put me to the labour of turning over -many a crabbed antiquated author to furnish out materials for these -pages; and to what purpose? Wiser perhaps I had been to have followed -the example of those easy gentlemen, who write without any pains what -you read without any profit. - -What recommendation would it be of this book, if humbly I should say, it -can do no harm? But if vainly I avowed that it was my object and -endeavour to do good, I might indeed speak the truth as to my wishes, -but I should palpably disguise my expectations. It will do no good. -Reformers are as unpopular as informers; the medicine, which nobody will -take, can do nobody any service. When I witness the avidity, with which -men will read a thing called a novel, wherein the characters of their -friends are libelled, what folly would it be to suppose they will -countenance an attempt to impress them with more kindness for their -fellow-creatures than they are disposed to entertain, or will suffer -themselves to be persuaded, that their fellow-creatures merit? - -I have been too long acquainted with you, my dear candid readers, to -trouble you with any compliments, or solicit you for any favours. I have -only to say, that I am doing my utmost to amuse you, and if you shall -lay down this volume with any appetite for the second, I hope you will -not find that my exertions flag. - - - END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. - - - WRIGHT, Printer, St. John’s Square. - - Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - - been mispent=> been misspent {pg 24} - - vaulted casmate so fortified=> vaulted casemate so fortified {pg 57} - - the same tranport=> the same transport {pg 166} - - bodily acheivements=> bodily achievements {pg 182} - - had recieved=> had received {pg 215} - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN DE LANCASTER; VOL. -I. *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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I., by Richard Cumberland</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: John de Lancaster; vol. I.</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Richard Cumberland</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 27, 2022 [eBook #69055]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Sonya Schermann, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN DE LANCASTER; VOL. I. ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" -height="550" alt="[The image of -the book's cover is unavailable.]" /></a> -</p> - -<p class="cb"><span class="big">JOHN DE LANCASTER.</span><br /><br /> -<img src="images/bar.png" -width="90" -alt="————" /><br /><br /> -VOLUME I.</p> - -<div class="blk"> -<table style="border: 2px black solid;margin:1em auto; -max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td class="c">Contents.<br /> -<a href="#JOHN_DE_LANCASTER">JOHN DE LANCASTER.</a><br /><br /> -<a href="#BOOK_THE_FIRST">BOOK THE FIRST.</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I-a">CHAPTER I., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II-a"> II., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III-a"> III., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV-a"> IV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V-a"> V., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI-a"> VI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII-a"> VII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII-a"> VIII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IX-a"> IX. </a><br /><br /> -<a href="#BOOK_THE_SECOND">BOOK THE SECOND. </a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I-b"> I., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II-b"> II., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III-b"> III., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV-b"> IV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V-b"> V., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI-b"> VI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII-b"> VII. </a><br /><br /> -<a href="#BOOK_THE_THIRD">BOOK THE THIRD. </a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I-c"> I., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II-c"> II., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III-c"> III., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV-c"> IV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V-c"> V., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI-c"> VI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII-c"> VII. </a> -<br /><br />Some typographical errors have been corrected; -<a href="#transcrib">a list follows the text</a>.<br /> -(etext transcriber's note)</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class="blk"> -<h1>JOHN DE LANCASTER.</h1> - -<p class="c">A NOVEL.<br /> -<br /> -BY<br /> -<br /> -<i>RICHARD CUMBERLAND, ESQ.</i><br /> -<br /> -IN THREE VOLUMES.<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="hrt" /> -<p class="c"> -VOL. I.</p> -<hr class="hrb" /> - -<p class="c"><i>LONDON</i>:<br /> -<br /> -PRINTED FOR LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO.<br /> -<br /> -TEMPLE OF THE MUSES,<br /> -<br /> -FINSBURY-SQUARE.<br /> -———<br /> -1809.<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_1">{1}</a></span>  </p> - -<p class="c">Harding and Wright, Printers, St. John’s Square.<br /><br /><br /> -<a id="JOHN_DE_LANCASTER"></a><span class="big"><b>JOHN DE LANCASTER.</b></span></p> - -<h2><a id="BOOK_THE_FIRST"></a>BOOK THE FIRST.</h2> - -<p class="figcenter"><img src="images/bar.png" -width="90" -alt="————" /></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_I-a"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> -<i>The Reader is made acquainted with the Family of De Lancaster.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the first of March 1751, Robert De Lancaster, a native of North -Wales, and grandfather of my hero, had assembled his friends and -neighbours to celebrate, according to custom, the anniversary of their -tutelary saint.</p> - -<p>I enter at once upon my story without any introduction, having already -announced this novel in my Memoirs, and I flatter myself, if it is -perused with that candour, to which fair dealing has<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_2">{2}</a></span> some claim, it -will serve to entertain the major part of its readers, disappoint not -many and corrupt not one.</p> - -<p>Robert de Lancaster was a gentleman of great respectability, and -Kray-castle, the venerable seat of his family through many generations, -lost nothing of its long-established fame for hospitality on this -occasion: the gentry were feasted, and the poor were not forgotten.</p> - -<p>The family of this worthy antient Briton consisted of an only son -Philip, married to an heiress of the house of Morgan, and a maiden -daughter, named Cecilia. He was himself a widower. Mrs. Philip De -Lancaster was at this time in that state, which gave speedy hopes of an -heir to the very ancient family, into which she had married: in the -festivities of the day she had taken little share, and in the -superintendence<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_3">{3}</a></span> of her father-in-law’s household absolutely none: that -province she had found in much more able hands, and never sought to -interfere with the administration of it: in short she had no ambition -for authority, and very great objection to any thing, that might require -exertion, or occasion trouble.</p> - -<p>Cecilia De Lancaster from the death of her mother, through a period of -more than ten years, had patiently and without repining suffered her -youth to pass away, amply repayed by the love and approbation of her -father, whilst she devoted herself to all those duties, which had -devolved upon her, when Kray Castle lost its mistress. Her brother -Philip had quite as little disposition to trouble as his lady, so that -all things were under the unenvied government of Cecilia; and every -guest, that resorted to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_4">{4}</a></span> house, every domestic, that belonged to it, -bore witness to the excellence of her administration.</p> - -<p>A character like hers, though located amidst the recesses of -Merionethshire, could not be totally divested of attraction; for she had -high pretensions on the score of fortune, and a pedigree, that only -stopped where the world began: these might have been enough to satisfy -any reasonable man, though some perhaps would have rated them the higher -for the loveliness of her person, the excellence of her understanding -and the virtues of her mind.</p> - -<p>Amongst the many suitors, who in various periods of her celibacy had -been induced to propose themselves to her, none had been so persevering -in his addresses as Sir Owen ap Owen, baronet, a gentleman by no means -of yesterday,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_5">{5}</a></span> and possessed of a very fair and ample landed property, -upon which there were no other encumbrances save only the barren rocks -and unproductive mountains, over which it stretched. He was indeed not -very eminent as a scholar; for although Sir Owen had without doubt been -taught to read, he had almost entirely discontinued the practice of it: -and indeed, considering the nature of Sir Owen’s more immediate -pursuits, reading might very well be dispensed with, as it could only -tend to interrupt his evening nap, and not improve him in the art of -hallooing to his hounds, or pushing round the tankard to a tawdry toast: -he however administered justice to his neighbours, and settled -differences in a summary way after a fashion of his own, by reference -not to any books of law, but to the beer barrels in his cellar;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_6">{6}</a></span> by -which his decisions as a magistrate became extremely popular, and men -quarrelled first, that they might get drunk afterwards, and patch up the -peace in their cups, which they had broken when they were sober. By -these means Sir Owen got a good name in the county, and supported a -considerable interest, which he never failed to employ, as his fathers -had done before him, in opposing and railing at the minister of the day, -whoever that obnoxious animal might chance to be.</p> - -<p>This distinguished personage was now in the fifth year of his -suitorship, and verging towards the fiftieth of his age, whilst the -inexorable Cecilia had already endured a siege half as long as that of -Troy, without betraying any symptoms, that might indicate a surrender. -In fact Sir Owen seemed now to content<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_7">{7}</a></span> himself with a yearly summons, -like the Moors before Ceuta, as a compliment to his perseverance, and to -keep up appearances and pretensions.</p> - -<p>It was now Saint David’s day, when he never failed to be a visitor to -the castle, and he had brushed out the lining of his coach, and put -himself in his best array, to do honour to the festival, at which he -knew Cecilia would preside. His person was not eminently graceful, for -he was a round, red-faced gentleman, neither tall of stature, nor light -of limb; but his apparel bore the faded marks of ancient splendor, and -his huntsman had bestowed uncommon pains in frizzing out a huge white -perriwig, which he had powdered with no sparing hand. Sir Owen was at no -time apt to be an idle looker-on whilst the bottle was in circulation, -and on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_8">{8}</a></span> present occasion he had charged himself more than usually -high to encounter an opposition, which he had reason to expect would be -more than usually stubborn; for though due consideration had been paid -to his rank, and he had been placed at table close beside the lady, who -presided at it, fortune had not favoured him with any striking -opportunities for displaying his address, or advancing himself in her -good graces. On the contrary he had been rather unlucky in his -assiduities, and in his eagerness to dispute the ladle had overset the -soup, with sundry other little misadventures, incidental to an awkward -operator and an unsteady hand.</p> - -<p>It is perfectly well understood, that the worthy baronet had pledged -himself to his privy counsellor the huntsman for vigorous measures; -confessing to him,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_9">{9}</a></span> whilst assisting at his toilette, with the candour -natural to his character, that he was ashamed of hanging so long upon a -cold scent, and protesting, with a due degree of spirit, that he would -that very day either bring the trail to an entapis, or give up the -chace, and draw off; for which manly resolution he had all proper credit -given him by the partaker of his secrets, and the companion of his -sports.</p> - -<p>When the gentlemen had sate a reasonable time after the ladies had -retired, it was the custom of the house to adjourn to the drawing room, -where Cecilia administered the ceremonials of the tea-table. It was here -Sir Owen meditated to plant himself once more by her side, and bring his -fortune to a crisis; trusting that wine, which had fortified him with -courage, would not fail to in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_10">{10}</a></span>spire him with eloquence. High in hope, -and eager to acquit himself of his promise to his confidante at home, -upon entering the room he pushed his course directly for the tea-table, -where the cluster of candles and the dazzling gleams reflected from the -polished apparatus, there displayed in glittering splendor, so -confounded his optics, that without discovering the person of Mrs. -Philip De Lancaster, or computing distances so as to bring up in time, -he came foul of the tea-table, and discharged a part of the wreck with a -horrible crash into the lap of the aforesaid lady, whilst his head came -to the floor amidst the fragments of broken cups and sawcers with an -impunity, which no common head would probably have had to boast of in -the like circumstance. Dreadful was the consternation of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_11">{11}</a></span> company, -most alarmingly critical were the screams and convulsive throes of the -unfortunate lady, whose lap was ill prepared to receive any such -accession to the burden, which it was already doomed to carry. The -consequences in short were so immediate, and their symptoms so decisive, -that had not Mr. Llewellyn been in attendance, and happily not quite so -tipsy as to be incapacitated from affording his assistance, the world -might have lost the pleasure of reading these adventures, and I the fame -of recording them.</p> - -<p>A couch being provided, and the lady laid at her length upon it, she was -carried up to her chamber, whilst the castle echoed with her piercing -screams.</p> - -<p>It would be treating this serious misadventure much too lightly, were I -only to remark that the love-scene in projectu<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_12">{12}</a></span> was of necessity -adjourned by Cecilia’s leaving the company, and attending upon her -sister-in-law, whom a whole bevy of females under the conduct of the -sage Llewellyn followed up the stairs. We may well suppose, where one so -able was present to direct, and so many were assembled, ready either to -obey, or sagaciously to look on and edify, that every thing needful for -a lady in her critical situation was provided and administered. Every -visitor, whose recollection served to remind him that after such a -discomfiture the speediest retreat was the best compliment he could pay -to the master of the house, called for their horses and their carriages -to the great disappointment of their servants, who had not yet paid all -the honours to Saint David, that were by customary right Saint David’s -due.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_13">{13}</a></span></p> - -<p>Sir Owen ap Owen, who had already taken some little time to recover his -legs, found himself still at a loss to recall his recollection. At -length, after contemplating the chaos he had created—By the Lord, -friend De Lancaster, he exclaimed, I have made a terrible wreck of your -crockery; but you should warn your housemaids not to dry rub your -floors, for they are as slippery as glass, and let a man tread ever so -carefully, a false step may throw him off his balance, and then who can -answer for the mischief he may do? I heard a terrible screaming, but I -hope, my good neighbour, nobody is hurt, and if your fair daughter, the -divine Cecilia, (so I always call her) is inconsolable about her china, -and if London can’t repair the loss, the East Indies shall, though I go -all the way to fetch it home for her<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_14">{14}</a></span> myself; for though I know well -enough I have had a glass too much, and am but as you may call me a kind -of bear in a ball-room, yet I know what a gentleman ought to do, when he -has done mischief; and on the word of a true ancient Briton you may -believe me, that if I had undesignedly set fire to your house, I am no -such Hanoverian rat as to run away by the light of it: that is not my -principle.</p> - -<p>Your principle, my good friend, replied De Lancaster, nobody doubts, and -if your accident shall be productive of no other mischief than what has -happened to Cecilia’s tea-cups, Cecilia thinks no more of them than I -do. The screams you heard did not proceed from her—</p> - -<p>No, no, cried Sir Owen, her sweet pipe never uttered such a shrill -veiw-<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_15">{15}</a></span>hollah; so if she is safe from hurt and harm, all is well. ’Twas -an accident, as you say, and there’s an end of it.</p> - -<p>A servant now announced to the baronet, that his coach was at the door. -De Lancaster entered into no farther explanations, and his awkward guest -surrendered himself to the guidance of a coachman luckily not quite so -tipsey as his master.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_II-a"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> -<i>Conversation in a Library.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the wheels of Sir Owen’s coach had ceased from rattling over the -flinty pavement of the castle court, Robert De Lancaster glanced his -eyes round the room, and in a corner of it discovered his son Philip, -unnoticed of him be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_16">{16}</a></span>fore. Neither the cataract and confusion, that had -ensued upon Sir Owen’s tumble, nor the screams of a lady, in whose -safety he might be presumed to have some interest, had provoked this -disciple of Harpocrates to violate his taciturnity, or to stir from his -seat. At the same instant Colonel Wilson, a friend of the family, -entered, and brought tidings from the runners in the service of Mr. -Llewellyn, that things above stairs were going on as well as could be -expected.</p> - -<p>Then with your leave, Colonel, said the lord of the castle, we will -adjourn to my library, and there await the event. Upon the word Philip -started from his corner, ran to the door and held it open for his -father. A silent bow was interchanged at passing; the library was near -at hand: the chairs were set ready, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_17">{17}</a></span> candles lighted and the three -gentlemen arranged themselves round the fire in their customary seats.</p> - -<p>I think, said De Lancaster, addressing himself to the colonel, amongst -all the extravagancies I have been betrayed into, there is none that -sits so light upon my conscience, as the passion I have had for -collecting books.</p> - -<p>They certainly are a source of pleasure, said the colonel, to the -readers of them.</p> - -<p>They cause great trouble to the writers, Philip answered in an under -voice, as if talking to himself.</p> - -<p>Colonel Wilson was a disabled officer, having lost a leg in the service, -and had now retired upon a sinecure government of twenty shillings per -day to a small patrimonial estate in the near neighbourhood of Kray -Castle: he was a few<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_18">{18}</a></span> years younger than Robert De Lancaster, who had -now kept his sixtieth birthday. Wilson had two sons; the elder was in -the army, and the younger at the head of Westminster school: he was a -man of strict probity, good understanding and an excellent heart. These -were qualities, which De Lancaster knew how to appreciate as well as any -man, and though his studies and pursuits had been widely different from -those of the Colonel, yet he courted his company, and lived in perfect -harmony with him as his friend and neighbour. Wilson on his part was not -blind to the eccentricities of De Lancaster, but as they never disagreed -except upon points, that did not interest the passions, their disputes -were carried on without any mixture of acrimony, and only served to keep -the conversation amicably alive.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_19">{19}</a></span></p> - -<p>Wilson had lived in the world; De Lancaster in study and retirement: the -latter would sometimes contend against assumptions, which to the former -appeared to be little less than self-evident; in the mean time De -Lancaster would oftentimes undertake to demonstrate paradoxes, that to -Wilson’s unsophisticated understanding seemed perfectly inexplicable: -these he was in the habit neither to admit, nor pertinaciously to -contest: if he had done the first, there would have been a speedy end to -the discussion; if he had pursued the latter course, there would have -been no end at all, for De Lancaster was not often in the humour to -recede from his positions.</p> - -<p>Philip De Lancaster on the contrary believed all things, and examined -none: he was a man of great faith and few words; by no means wanting in -curio<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_20">{20}</a></span>sity, but extremely averse from enquiry and trouble. Being an only -son and heir to the wealthy house of De Lancaster, it was thought -adviseable by the fathers on each side, who were the contracting -parties, that he should take to wife Matilda, only child of old Morgan -of Glen-Morgan, and presumptive heiress to his fortune and estate. -Philip, who had shewn no ardour as a lover, was by no means remarkably -uxorious as a husband; and Matilda did not molest him with her fondness -or attentions: They lived in the same house as appurtenances to the -family at Kray Castle, (for such from time immemorial had been the -custom of the De Lancasters) and they lived without quarrelling; for -they were very little together; their passions were never roused by -contradiction, or enflamed by jealousy; the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_21">{21}</a></span> husband had no attachments, -and the wife, who was said to have been thwarted in her first love, laid -herself out for no future admirers.</p> - -<p>These few preliminary remarks may probably account for the placidity, -with which Philip now sate down in the library between his father and -the colonel to wait the issue of an event, in which if he did not -manifest a very lively interest, the reason very probably was, because -he did not feel it.</p> - -<p>Philip, (if his sage remark is in the recollection of the reader) had -risqued a truism, when he modestly suggested that it was a troublesome -task to write a book. Philip did not speak this from his own experience; -therefore it is, that I call his truism a risque, for it was not always -that his father gave his passport to assertions of that character; but -the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_22">{22}</a></span> learned gentleman’s thoughts were just then employed not upon the -trouble, that we take when we bring our works into the world, but the -trouble, which we give, when we ourselves are brought into it, and upon -this topic he began to descant, as follows.</p> - -<p>The unlucky accident, by which my blundering neighbour has precipitated -Mrs. De Lancaster into labour-pains, must in all probability tend to -aggravate and enhance those sorrows, in which by the condition of her -sex she is destined to bring forth; and indeed, independent of that -accident, I should not wonder if the pains she suffers, and the screams -she utters, were more than ordinarily acute and piercing, planted as she -now is, by adoption into my family, in the very stream and current from -the fountain head of the primæval curse<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_23">{23}</a></span>—</p> - -<p>Whereabouts are we now, said the colonel within himself?</p> - -<p>—Nevertheless, under the pressure of these apprehensions, I console -myself with the reflection, that if the general observation, that what -we produce with difficulty we are thereby influenced to preserve with -diligence, be true in all other cases, it will be also true in that of -child-bearing. If so, we may expect that the <i>storgee</i>, or natural -affection of my daughter-in-law towards her infant will be -proportionally greater than that of mothers, who shall have had easier -times.</p> - -<p>I see no grounds for that conclusion, replied the colonel.</p> - -<p>Surely, sir, resumed De Lancaster, you must have remarked, that in all -our operations, whether mental or manual, we are naturally most attached -to those<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_24">{24}</a></span> on which most pains and labour have been expended. Slight -performances and slight opinions may be easily given up, but where great -deliberation has been bestowed, we are not soon persuaded to admit that -our time has been misspent and our talents misapplied.</p> - -<p>Certainly, replied Wilson, there are some points, upon which we ought -not to waver in our opinions, but there are many others, which it is not -worth our while to be too pertinacious in defending. In my profession we -must not quarrel with men for their caprices, so long as they are not -mischievously or impiously eccentric. It is not often we can find a -mess-room in the same way of thinking, except upon the question of -another bottle.</p> - -<p>In your profession, my good friend, resumed De Lancaster, (for which I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_25">{25}</a></span> -have all possible respect) the pliability you describe may be perfectly -in character, and much to be commended; for where differences are to be -adjusted by arguments, swords should not be admitted into the -conference. In my system of life I see no reason why I should be bound -to think with the majority; nay, I confess to you I am very ill inclined -to subscribe to popular opinions, unless upon strict investigation.</p> - -<p>Are they always worth it? said the colonel.</p> - -<p>I should think not, echoed Philip.</p> - -<p>Pardon me, exclaimed De Lancaster! So many things are assumed without -being examined, and so many disbelieved without being disproved, that I -am not hasty to assent or dissent in compliment to the multitude; and on -this account perhaps I am considered as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_26">{26}</a></span> a man affecting singularity: I -hope I am not to be found guilty of that idle affectation, only because -I would not be a dealer in opinions, which I have not weighed before I -deliver them out. Above all things I would not traffic in conjectures, -but carefully avoid imposing upon others or myself by confident -anticipation, when nothing can be affirmed with certainty in this mortal -state of chance and change, that is not grounded on conviction; for -instance, in the case of the lady above stairs, whose situation keeps -our hopes and fears upon the balance, our presumption is, that Mrs. De -Lancaster shall be delivered of a child, either male or female, and in -all respects like other children—</p> - -<p>I confess, said Wilson, that is my presumption, and I should be most -out<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_27">{27}</a></span>rageously astonished, should it happen otherwise.</p> - -<p>I don’t think it likely, murmured Philip.</p> - -<p>No, no, no, replied De Lancaster; but we need not be reminded how many -præternatural and prodigious births have occurred and been recorded in -the annals of mankind. Whether the natives of the town of Stroud near -Rochester are to this day under the ban of Thomas a Becket I am not -informed; but when, in contempt of that holy person, they wantonly cut -off the tail of his mule as he rode through their street, you have it -from authority that every child thenceforward born to an inhabitant of -Stroud was punished by the appendage of an incommodious and enormous -tail, exactly corresponding with that, which had<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_28">{28}</a></span> been amputated from -the archbishop’s mule.</p> - -<p>Here a whistle from the colonel struck the auditory nerves of Philip, -who, gently laying his hand upon his stump, gravely reminded him that -Becket was a saint—</p> - -<p>De Lancaster proceeded—- What then shall we say of the famous Martin -Luther, who being ordained to act so conspicuous a part in opposition to -the papal power, came into the world fully equipped for controversy; his -mother being delivered of her infant, (wonderful to relate) habited in -all points as a theologian, and (which I conceive must have sensibly -incommoded her) wearing a square cap on his head, according to academic -costuma. This, Colonel Wilson, may perhaps appear to you, as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_29">{29}</a></span> no doubt -it did to the midwife and all present at his birth, as a very -extraordinary and præternatural circumstance.</p> - -<p>It does indeed appear so, said the colonel. I know you don’t invent the -fable; I should like to know your authority for it.</p> - -<p>My authority, replied De Lancaster, in this case is the same as in that -of Becket’s mule; Martinus Delrius is my authority for both; and when we -find this gravely set forth by a writer of such high dignity and credit, -himself a doctor of theology, and public professor of the Holy -Scriptures in the university of Salamanca, who is bold enough to -question it?</p> - -<p>I am not bold enough to believe it, said Wilson.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_30">{30}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_III-a"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> -<i>An Accession to the ancient Family of De Lancaster.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the good man of the house perceived that the Salamanca doctor and -his anecdotes only moved the ridicule of his friend Wilson, and even -staggered the credulity of his son Philip, he pursued the subject no -further, but wearied with the exertions and agitations of the day leaned -back in his easy chair, and fell asleep. The parties, that were still -awake, seemed mutually disposed to enjoy their meditations in silence, -till upon the Castle clock’s striking eleven, Philip appositely remarked -that it wanted but an hour to twelve—</p> - -<p>And then, said Wilson, the first of March will have become the second of -March, so that if your boy don’t make<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_31">{31}</a></span> haste into the world, saint -David’s day will be over, and he will not have the privilege of being -born with a leek in his bonnet, and Martin Luther will keep the field of -wonders to himself.</p> - -<p>The story is very extraordinary, said Philip; but do you think it is -true?</p> - -<p>Do I think it is true, replied Wilson, that this gentleman, (pointing to -a picture over the chimney) whom I take to be Icarus, came into the -world, as the painter has described him, with his wings at full stretch? -If you can give credit to the one, you may believe the other.</p> - -<p>I think the safest way is to believe neither, Philip observed; but the -gentleman you point at is not what you suppose: I believe he is some -King: It is a family piece, and my father can explain it to you.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_32">{32}</a></span></p> - -<p>That I will do directly, cried the father, who had waked just in time to -hear what his son had been saying. The personage you enquire about is -not Icarus, but King Bladud of unfortunate memory, and the incident -being historically connected with the records of my family, I have had -the picture cleaned and repaired, and conspicuously hung, as you see, -over the chimney piece of my library. He with the wings is, as I told -you, King Bladud: He has miscarried in his experiment, and fallen to the -ground from the topmost pinnacle of the Temple of Apollo. The venerable -old man in the sacerdotal habit is the priest of Apollo, and the -Philosopher in the saffron-coloured mantle is my ancestor, the ingenious -contriver of the unlucky pinions. From him it is I date the privilege of -attaching wings<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_33">{33}</a></span> to my more ancient bearing of the Harp, as you see it -displayed on the banners in the hall, and in sundry other parts of the -castle, with the appropriate motto underwritten—<span class="smcap">Dum cœlum peto, cantum -edo.</span></p> - -<p>Thank you, my good sir, said the colonel: I am perfectly satisfied. For -my own part I am contented to exhibit three cockle-shells on the handles -of my spoons, but where I picked them up, and how I came by them, I know -no more than the man in the moon, nor care.</p> - -<p>At this instant Cecilia entered the room, and, running up to her father, -joyfully announced the welcome entrance of our hero on this mortal stage -in the character of a lovely boy, adding in the usual phrase that the -mother was quite as well as could be expected.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_34">{34}</a></span></p> - -<p>I rejoice to hear it; I rejoice to hear it, exclaimed the grandfather. -But, my dear Cecilia, are you quite certain that it is a boy?</p> - -<p>Dear sir, replied Cecilia, you wont suppose the people about my sister -can be deceived as to that.</p> - -<p>Why no, said De Lancaster, upon better recollection I presume they -cannot.</p> - -<p>Cecilia directed a congratulatory look to her brother, and nodding to -him, as she left the room, said, I give you joy, Philip, I give you joy -with all my heart. Philip received it with many thanks, and entertained -it with much composure.</p> - -<p>Reach me the family bible, son, said De Lancaster, and looked at his -watch, observing that it wanted half an hour of midnight. He thereupon -entered the day and hour of his grandson’s birth<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_35">{35}</a></span> in the recording leaf -of the aforesaid holy book; observing, that he would postpone engrossing -the event into his pedigree roll till his attorney could attend for that -purpose—I confess, added he, it is more properly the office of my bard -David Williams, but as he, poor man, is blind, I shall wink at his -excusing himself from that branch of his duty.</p> - -<p>I don’t see how you can well do less, said the colonel.</p> - -<p>He will be christened John, continued the old gentleman, not attending -to the colonel’s remark: the links in the chain of my genealogy have -long been distinguished by the alternate names of John, Robert and -Philip, and the brightest of the three has fallen to his turn. The Johns -have been the heroes of the family: That was my father’s name; he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_36">{36}</a></span> a -gentleman of the most punctilious honour, but he was killed in a duel -with a foreign officer, who happened to tread upon the train of my -mother’s gown in a ball-room. The Philips universally, without the -exception of my worthy son here present, have been lovers of their ease, -and my great-grandfather was very generally distinguished by the style -and title of Robert the Philologist: by manuscripts, which are now in my -possession, it appears, that he had been at considerable pains and study -in writing comments and annotations for a new and splendid edition of -the <i>Incredibilia</i> of Palæphatus: This he did not live to complete, but -he is said more than once to have declared, that he would convince the -world, that Palæphatus told many more truths than he himself was aware -of.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_37">{37}</a></span></p> - -<p>Perhaps Palæphatus atoned for it, said the colonel, by telling many -untruths, that he was aware of;—but is it not time to go to bed?</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IV-a"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> -<i>Our Hero pays his first Visit to his Grandfather. The congratulatory Lay of the Minstrel.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning Robert de Lancaster rose with the sun. From the window -of his chamber he cast his eyes over that grand and beautiful expanse of -country, which the proud and lofty site of his castle overpeered. It was -the first sun, that had risen on his new-born hope, and the splendour, -which that glorious luminary diffused over the ani<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_38">{38}</a></span>mating scenery under -his survey, was to a mind like his peculiarly auspicious and impressive: -his bosom glowed with pious gratitude to the Supreme Dispenser of those -blessings—It is too much, all-bounteous Being, he exclaimed, too much -for sinful man! I am not worthy of such goodness.</p> - -<p>He summoned his servant, and being informed that the night had passed -well with Mrs. De Lancaster, he desired the child might be brought to -him: his wish was speedily obeyed. He stood for some time intently -gazing on the countenance of his grandchild, and at length pronounced it -to be a perfect model of infantine beauty, open and ingenuous, every -thing in short that his warmest wishes could have pictured.</p> - -<p>I perceive, cried he, and can decypher the hand-writing of nature in the -ex<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_39">{39}</a></span>pressive lineaments of this lovely babe: if God, who gave him life, -shall in his mercy give him length of days, he will be an honour to his -name and an ornament to his country.</p> - -<p>He is a sweet pretty puppet, said the nurse.</p> - -<p>Pooh! cried the prophet, I am not speaking of what he is, I am telling -what he will be. I prognosticate that he will be brave, benevolent, and -virtuous—</p> - -<p>And handsome and tall and well-shaped, re-echoed the loquacious dame; -only look what fine straight limbs he has, pretty fellow!</p> - -<p>Take yourself away with him! cried De Lancaster in displeasure. You have -interrupted me with your chatter, and the continuity of those thoughts, -which spontaneously presented themselves, is no more to be resumed.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_40">{40}</a></span></p> - -<p>The nurse departed, dancing the child in her arms, and prattling to it -in her way, unconscious of the offence she had committed, whilst De -Lancaster, pacing up and down his room, in vain attempted to find that -place in the book of fate, from which her untimely gabble had caused him -to break off—It is lost, said he to himself; I can only discern bright -gleams of virtuous happiness, but not unclouded, not without those -darkening shadows, that denounce misfortune.—Heaven forbid my father’s -fate should be this infant’s portion with my father’s name!</p> - -<p>He ceased; sate down, and, whilst the tear hung on his cheek, silently -put up an unpremeditated prayer.</p> - -<p>It was his custom every morning after he had dressed himself for the day -to be attended by his bard David Williams,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_41">{41}</a></span> and it was now the hour for -the old man to present himself with his harp at the door of his patron’s -chamber: whilst he was in it, all approach was interdicted; the mind of -De Lancaster seemed in a peculiar manner to sympathize with the melody -of the harp: he had not only a national predilection for that instrument -in common with his countrymen of the principality, but professed an -hereditary attachment to it as a true De Lancaster, whose ancestors had -worn it on their shields from the days of King Bardus. He had now heard -the signal, that announced the morning visit of his minstrel, but a -doubt struck him whether he could admit him to perform without hazarding -an infringement upon his own order for general silence throughout the -castle, as recommended by the sage Llewellyn: whilst pausing upon this -di<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_42">{42}</a></span>lemma it luckily occurred to his recollection, that there was a piano -as well as a forte upon his favourite instrument, and furthermore, that -the apartment of his daughter-in-law was at the greatest possible -distance from his own; balancing these considerations in his mind, the -good man became satisfied upon the point in doubt so far, that David was -allowed to enter, and perform his morning serenade under suitable -restrictions.</p> - -<p>There was a stool, on which Williams always sate during his -performances, and an easy chair, in which the patron reposed himself, -and indulged his silent meditations. By signals audibly given, on the -arms of the aforesaid chair the blind musician was directed to modulate -the character and spirit of his movements, so as to correspond and -accord with the movements of the hearer’s mind.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_43">{43}</a></span> It was a communication -without language, perfectly well understood by the performer, who no -sooner heard the signal for soft music than he began a prelude so -exquisitely tender, that the strings only whispered under his fingers, -till at length being filled with the inspiration of his muse, he broke -forth extemporaneously into the following strains—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Shine forth, bright sun, and gild the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“That greets our new-born hope with light!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Give me to feel thy cheering ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Tho’ these dark orbs are wrapt in night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Yet Heav’n in pity hath allow’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“These hands to wake the tuneful string,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The muse her influence hath bestow’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And taught her sightless bard to sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Sound then, my harp, thy softest strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Melodious solace of the blind!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Airs, that may heal a mother’s pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And sooth a father’s anxious mind!<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_44">{44}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Hush, hush! for now the infant sleeps—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Let no rude string disturb its rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And lo! instinctively it creeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“To nestle at its parent breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Ah luckless me! these curtain’d eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Shall never view its lovely face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I ne’er must see that star arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The day-spring of an ancient race.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Father of life, in mercy take<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“This infant to thy nursing care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And for the virtuous grandsire’s sake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Oh! hear the humble minstrel’s pray’r!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Grant that this babe, as yet the last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Of Lancaster’s time-honour’d name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“When coming ages shall have past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“May rank amongst the first in fame!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Thou hast sung well, David Williams, said the patron, as soon as the -harp had ceased, and I command thee to accept, and wear upon thy finger, -this antique beryl, upon which is engraved a head of the poet Homer, thy -prototype in melody not less than in misfortune. Thy<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_45">{45}</a></span> muse, old man, -hath not been unpropitious: go thy way therefore, and cherish thy spirit -with the best flask of metheglin, that my cellars afford. I know it is -thy favourite Helicon, which at once gives nerves to thy fingers, and -nourishment to thy fancy. Get thee hence, blind bard, and be merry!</p> - -<p>Old David devoutly drew the ring on his finger, and with a profound -obeisance replied—I thank you and I bless you, my munificent patron. I -will drink prosperity to the illustrious house of De Lancaster and the -new-born heir thereof. It has stood from the time when the old world was -deluged, may it stand till the time when the new one shall be dissolved!</p> - -<p>With these words David took his leave and departed, whilst De Lancaster, -glowing with that pure sensation of re<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_46">{46}</a></span>fined delight, which music can -convey to its admirers, and blest in having now recruited his pedigree -with a new descendant from the loins of Noah, sallied forth for the -breakfast room, displaying on his stately person a new suit, after an -old fashion, of flaming full-trimmed scarlet, ornamented with enormous -gold-worked buttons, plentifully dispersed; a prodigious flowing -perriwig of natural hair sable as the raven’s plume, with rolled silk -stockings and high-topped square-toed shoes, which, resounding upon -every step of the oaken stairs as he descended, gave loud and early -notice of his approach to the personages assembled to receive him.</p> - -<p>Cecilia, Philip and Colonel Wilson in turn presented themselves, and -received his cordial embrace, for in his heart nature had implanted all -the warm affec<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_47">{47}</a></span>tions of father and of friend, and in courtesy of manners -he was a sample of the chivalric ages; Llewellyn therefore was by no -means overlooked; his services were both highly praised, and liberally -repaid. Lawyer Davis also attended, being summoned for the purpose of -the enrolment. So many were the messages of enquiry from the neighbours -round the castle, that almost every servant and retainer belonging to -his houshold made an errand to present themselves and pay homage to -their good old master. Had pen, ink and paper been called for, there -would have been three domestics to have brought them in: in the mean -while it may be presumed that the more than usually profound respect, -with which they accompanied their devoirs, was in some degree owing to -the awe they were<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_48">{48}</a></span> impressed with by the splendor, in which they saw him -now arrayed; and certain it is, if they needed any pardon for this -excess of reverence towards a mortal like themselves, the stately person -and commanding countenance of Robert De Lancaster were exactly such, as -in their predicament might serve for an apology: his stature was of the -tallest, but well-proportioned and erect; his frame athletic, but -without a trace of clumsiness or vulgarity; his voice, his action, his -address were all of that character, which seemed peculiarly adapted to -impose respect. Colonel Wilson, who had got secret intimation of this -brilliant sortie, which his friend was about to make, had brushed up his -epaulets, and turned out in full uniform for the occasion.</p> - -<p>Not so Sir Owen ap Owen, baronet, of Penruth Abbey, who, having been<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_49">{49}</a></span> -told of the event as he had just turned his hounds into cover, instantly -galloped off to Kray Castle; and being now ushered into the room in his -hunting jacket and boots, exhibited a figure, which both in dress and -address was as perfect a contrast to that we have been describing, as -reality could present, or imagination feign.</p> - -<p>Cecilia took an early opportunity of saying she was upon duty and -withdrew: the rest of the company fell off one and one, and Sir Owen -found himself left with Mr. De Lancaster.</p> - -<p>What ensued will be related in the following chapter.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_50">{50}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_V-a"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> -<i>An importunate Visitor interrupts the Business of the Morning.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> must be obvious to the well-bred reader, that this visit of Sir Owen -to the worthy owner of Kray Castle, though not exactly in form, was -nevertheless not out of place, considering what had passed in the -antecedent day. We may literally say that it was made upon the spur of -the occasion, and this we hope will be an apology for our introducing -the baronet in boots. Without doubt he was conscious that something more -was due from him than a simple enquiry could acquit him of, but the -happy turn things had taken, since his head came to the floor and our -hero into the world, relieved him in great part from his embarrassment: -the politeness of De Lan<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_51">{51}</a></span>caster put him entirely at his ease, when -turning to Sir Owen, he said—I think, my good neighbour, as I am -indebted to you on my boy’s account for his early introduction into -life, there is nothing wanting to complete the favour but that you -should take some charge of him, now he is with us, and stand godfather -at the christening.</p> - -<p>To this the baronet made answer, that he should be ready to obey the -call, and was greatly flattered by it, adding with a significant smile, -that it was not his fault, if he had not by this time had the honour of -standing in a nearer relation to a grandson of Mr. De Lancaster than -that of godfather; to which the other as readily replied—Neither was it -his fault.</p> - -<p>This was so fair an opening, that Sir Owen could not miss it, and <i>upon -this hint he spake</i>. His speech, though not<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_52">{52}</a></span> remarkable for its -eloquence, was extremely easy to be understood: he professed a very -sincere esteem and high respect for the amiable Cecilia: he would make a -very handsome settlement upon her, and add two horses to complete his -set, so that she should command her coach and six; he would new set the -family jewels, furnish the best apartments afresh, and build her a -conservatory: he would leave off smoking, take to tea in an afternoon, -and learn quadrille: he would move the dog-kennel to a greater distance -from his house, that the hounds might not wake her in a morning: he -would stand candidate for the county at the next election, and as soon -as he had taken his seat in parliament, and overturned the present -ministry, he did not doubt of being made a lord. He said he was well -aware of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_53">{53}</a></span> lady’s high pretensions on the score of pedigree, but he -flattered himself he should have something to say on that head, when he -had looked into matters, and refreshed his memory; this he knew for a -fact—that old Robin ap Rees, his minstrel, had records to prove that -his ancestors, the Ap Owens, were not drowned in the general deluge, but -saved themselves with their goats on the tops of their mountains in -Merionethshire; and this should be made appear to the satisfaction of -Cecilia as clear as the sun at noon-day: he added in conclusion, that as -a mark of his respect for the name of De Lancaster, his second son -should bear it jointly with his own, coupled with another <i>ap</i>.</p> - -<p>These proposals being submitted, he wished to know if there was any -thing more, that could be required of him for<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_54">{54}</a></span> the satisfaction and -content of the lady he aspired to. To this Robert De Lancaster gravely -answered, that certainly there was nothing wanting to complete his -wishes but her consent.</p> - -<p>Why that is what I have always intimated to her, cried the baronet, that -she had nothing to do but to say yes, and I was ready to strike hands -upon the word and clinch the bargain. When a thing can so easily be set -to rights, it is rather surprising to me, that she can hesitate about -it.</p> - -<p>Upon De Lancaster’s dropping a hint as to the seriousness of an -engagement for life, and that two opinions must coincide upon that -measure, Sir Owen very appositely observed, that it was mere loss of -time to spin out a business year after year, that could be finished in a -single minute.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_55">{55}</a></span></p> - -<p>I grant you, my good friend, said De Lancaster, that Cecilia could do -more towards settling this affair in the space of one minute than you -and I could do in a twelvemonth, for she is absolutely her own mistress; -therefore with your leave we will turn it over to her, and when I have -next the honour to see you, I will engage you shall have an answer from -her own lips: let me only request you to receive that answer as -decisive, be it what it may; and for your own as well as for her repose -stir the question no more.</p> - -<p>So let it be! replied Sir Owen, and fit it is that so it should be; for, -take notice, I am getting on all this while, and she is not standing -still in life, so that for the sake of posterity we had best lose no -more time about it. If it is to be, the sooner it is done the better;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_56">{56}</a></span> -if it is not, why there must be an end of it; I must turn my horse’s -head, as they say, another way; and that puts me in mind that I have -left the hounds in cover, and, if they find, I shall be quite and clean -thrown out.</p> - -<p>Nothing in this life more likely, replied old Robert archly, and with -this answer, which cut two ways at once, the baronet, who just then -thought of nothing but his hounds, bustled out of the room, muttering to -himself—Huntsman will wonder what, the plague, has become of me.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_57">{57}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VI-a"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> -<i>Some Men are more fond of telling long Stories than others are of listening to them.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> this inauspicious conference was over, and the subject matter left, -in the diplomatic phrase, <i>ad referendum</i>, Robert de Lancaster, who was -anxious to dispatch the more interesting business of the day, rang the -bell for his servant, and by him was informed that all parties were in -readiness to attend him to the audit-room, where, amongst other family -treasures, the record of his pedigree was kept in a vaulted casemate so -fortified, as to bid defiance both to force and fire.</p> - -<p>Accompanied by Cecilia, Philip, Wilson and Lawyer Davis, followed by the -nurse carrying the infant, and Williams,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_58">{58}</a></span> in his bardal habit, led by a -venerable domestic out of livery, he proceeded to the spot, and with his -own hands liberated the incarcerated roll. It was a splendid record, and -when spread out at full length exhibited several figures gaudily -emblazoned. Colonel Wilson, who had no great respect at heart, but much -gravity of countenance, whilst these ceremonials were in operation, -addressing himself to the master of the show, said—It is well, my good -friend, that you have stage room enough to display this fine spectacle -in perfection without putting any of your ancestors to -inconvenience—Then passing along till he came to the upper end of the -roll, where Japheth, son of Noah, conspicuously kept his post, and -pointing to a figure on the step next below him, he gravely asked who -that majestic person<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_59">{59}</a></span>age might be in kingly robes, wearing a crown on -his head, and carrying a sceptre in his hand: Robert De Lancaster as -gravely replied, that it was Samothes, the first sovereign monarch of -this island, from him called Samothea.—Wilson bowed, and obtruded no -more questions.</p> - -<p>Whilst the ceremony of enrolment was in process—I record this infant, -said the grandfather, by the name of John, although he hath not yet -received the sacred rite of baptism, forasmuch as the <i>pronomina</i> of -John, Robert and Philip have been successively adopted by my family from -the very earliest time of the Christian æra to the present—Write him -down therefore by the name of John.</p> - -<p>This being done in proper form by Lawyer Davis, and date annexed, blind -Williams gave a crowning twang upon his harp (for I omitted to premise -that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_60">{60}</a></span> he brought it with him) and in a loud and solemn tone chanted -forth—<span class="smcap">Floreat!</span>—when our hero (unwillingly I record it to his shame) -set up such a dismal and most dolorous howl, as startled all the -hearers, but most of all his grandfather, who, struck with horror, cried -out to the nurse—Take him away, take him instantly away! Why would you -let him roar at this unlucky moment?—Bless your honour, said the -prating gossip, ’tis a sign of strength—A sign! repeated the sage; how -should you know of what it is a sign? Away with him at once! I would it -had not happened.</p> - -<p>As the cavalcade now marched away in solemn silence, Colonel Wilson, -halting on his wooden leg, whispered to Lawyer Davis, who was in the -rear—This is ridiculous enough, friend Davis, we must fairly confess; -but the harm<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_61">{61}</a></span>less foibles of good and worthy men should not expose them -to our contempt.</p> - -<p>Amongst the many oddities (for I am loth to call them absurdities) that -marked the character of Robert de Lancaster, his pride of pedigree was -one of the most prominent and most open to ridicule. That his friend -Colonel Wilson saw it in this light there is no doubt; yet although he -was quite intolerant enough towards many of Robert’s eccentricities upon -speculative points, in this favourite folly he left him undisturbed, -perceiving, as we may suppose, that it was a prejudice not to be -attacked but at the risque of his friendship. This topic therefore had -never come into discussion, and even the history of the picture, lately -brought out of obscurity, was, as we have before observed, new to the -incurious colonel. He had seen the pedi<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_62">{62}</a></span>gree unrolled for the first -time, but of its contents he knew no more than what his single question -about King Samothes had drawn from De Lancaster in the way of -explanation.</p> - -<p>If Wilson acquiesced in this foible of his friend, none else amongst the -numbers, that were in habits of acquaintance with the family, were -likely to start any question as to the antiquity of it; they were so -cordially welcomed, and so hospitably entertained at Kray Castle, that -it would have been hard indeed upon their host, if they could have -swallowed nothing at his table but the dinner, that he put upon it. Add -to this, that the good old man was a patient listener to other people’s -anecdotes, though a deliberate narrator of his own. For all those -dealers in the marvellous, who are proverbially said to shoot a long<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_63">{63}</a></span> -bow, he had a great deal of companionable fellow-feeling, and as he did -not hold the commonly received opinions of the world in very high -respect, he had boldly put together and amassed a curious and elaborate -collection, somewhat after the manner of Coryat, of what he styled his -<i>Confutations of vulgar Errors</i>. These have come under the inspection of -some people since his death, and though it must be owned that they are -not to be read without some few grains of allowance, yet there is a -sufficiency of novelty to make them entertaining, and good sense enough -interspersed to render them in a certain degree respectable.</p> - -<p>He there paradoxically asserts, (and I must believe it was his serious -opinion, for he was fond of repeating it amongst his intimates) that the -human under<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_64">{64}</a></span>standing had been extremely narrowed and contracted, since -the art of printing had been discovered and carried into practice, for -that tradition was the mother of memory, and book-reading the murderer. -For modern history he had a sovereign contempt; he said it was a mass of -voluntary misrepresentations, and that no man could be trusted to write -the annals of his own time; strenuously contending, that it was from the -dark ages only we could strike out light to illuminate mankind. In the -early writers of the history of his own country he was profoundly -versed, and could adduce a host of authorities to prove that <i>Dominicus -Marius Niger</i> and <i>Berosus</i> were clearly warranted in their affirmations -that the island of Great Britain was as well and as fully stocked with -inhabitants long before the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_65">{65}</a></span> days of Noah, as any other country upon the -face of the globe.</p> - -<p>Upon all these topics Wilson had not much to say: he knew his friend was -in the habit of disputing points, which others took for granted, and -taking many for granted, which by others were disputed; he was therefore -well contented to let him talk his fill so long as he was only talking -for fame, resolved on his own part to take no more for truth than he saw -fit; and, being always able to prove what he himself asserted, what he -heard asserted without proof he did not hold himself always bound to -believe.</p> - -<p>He now perceived the time was come, when it would be no longer in his -power to parry the propensity so discoverable in his friend on this -occasion to treat him with a discussion on the antiquity of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_66">{66}</a></span> his family: -he was prepared to meet it, nay, he was just now disposed even to invite -it by some leading questions respecting the family bards, and the -authenticity of the facts by them recorded.</p> - -<p>This was every thing that De Lancaster could wish for: it was at once a -salvo for his vanity, and a challenge to his veracity. Assuming -thereupon a more than ordinary degree of solemnity, he said—It is not -to the bards alone that I am indebted for all I know of those, who have -borne my name before I was in the world, though much is due to their -correct and faithful records of the times they lived in. By my own -perseverance in keeping hold of the clue, which, by the help of <i>Joannes -Bodinus</i>, <i>Franciscus Tarapha</i>, <i>Wolfangus Lazius</i>, and other equally -illustrious authorities, hath led me to the fountain head of my<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_67">{67}</a></span> -genealogy, I have at this moment the consolation to reflect, that when -that most incomparable personage Samothes, (first son of Japhet, who was -third son of Noah) was monarch, patriarch and legislator of this my -native island, I had an ancestor then living in it, who shared the -blessings of his government, was also nearly allied to him, and stood so -high in his favour and confidence, as to be appointed president and -chief teacher of theology in that celebrated college of philosophers -called Samothei, which both <i>Aristotle</i> and <i>Secion</i> affirm to have been -established in the days of this good king, and so called in honour of -his name: but not this school only, the whole island took its name after -this excellent king, and was for a course of years, till the arrival of -Albion, called Samothea, as both the learned <i>Bale</i> and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_68">{68}</a></span> <i>Doctor Caius</i> -concur in affirming—but perhaps to you, Colonel Wilson, these anecdotes -may be uninteresting; and, if so, I will pass them over.</p> - -<p>By no means, my good friend, replied the colonel, for be assured that -all these family facts, which you have collected, and Moses in his -history seems to have overlooked, are to me perfectly new and extremely -entertaining.</p> - -<p>Sir, resumed the narrator, Samothes was succeeded by his son Magus, from -whom the Persian Magi derive—(Wilson arched his eye-brows, as men are -apt to do on certain occasions)—and Sarron succeeded Magus, from whom -were derived a sect of philosophers amongst the Celtes, called -Sarronides. In the reign of Druis, continued De Lancaster, or, as -<i>Seneca</i> writes it, Dryus, (which I take to be a corruption) my -ancestors trans<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_69">{69}</a></span>planted themselves, together with the philosophers, -named after their sovereign Druids, into the isle of Anglesea, which, as -<i>Humphry Lloyd</i> truly observes, was their chief place of abode, or, more -properly speaking, their pontifical headquarters. Bardus, the son of -Druis, succeeded to his father, and in his reign so famous was my then -existing ancestor for his performances on the harp, that we have ever -since borne that instrument by royal grant of this king as our family -coat of arms and crest. Now, let it be observed, added he, that many -families have coats of arms and crests, and can’t tell how they came by -them.</p> - -<p>That is true, said the colonel, and one of those am I; but I beg pardon -for interrupting you: I pray you to proceed.</p> - -<p>After a period of three hundred and ten years, the Celtes being subdued -by<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_70">{70}</a></span> Albion the giant, and this island subjected to his dominion, he -changed its name of Samothea to that of Albion. This same Albion the -giant was, as every body knows, the fourth son of Neptune—</p> - -<p>I am proud to hear it, cried the colonel, but I protest to you it is the -first I ever heard of him, or any of his family: I can now account for -our superiority in naval affairs; and I most heartily hope that the -trident, which this son of Neptune inherited from his father, shall -never in any time to come be wrested from his posterity of this island.</p> - -<p>I hope not, replied De Lancaster; but I proceed with my narrative—Upon -the landing of Brute with his Trojans, (which was not above three -thousand years ago) I find it asserted by <i>Master Henry Lyte of -Lytescarie</i>, that this<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_71">{71}</a></span> island was no better than a rude and barren -wilderness, <i>ferarum altrix</i>, a nursery for wild beasts, as he -slightingly denominates it; but I must take leave to tell that learned -antiquary, that his history, which he proudly styles <i>The Light of -Britain</i>, might more properly be called The Libel upon Britain; for I -will neither give credit to his lions, which he presumes to say overran -the island, nor implicitly acquiesce in his monstrous white bulls, with -shagged manes and hairy foreheads, forasmuch as I find no mention of -them in our King Edward the First’s letters to Pope Boniface, wherein -this very point of the landing of Brute in Albion is very learnedly -discussed. As for his lions, I treat that fable with contempt, for, -besides that King Edward does not mention them, I will never believe -there could<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_72">{72}</a></span> have been one in the whole island, else how came King -Madan, the grandson of this very Brute, to be killed and devoured by -wolves in a hunting match, when it has been notorious from all time, -that the wolf will fly from the hunter, that has anointed himself with -lion’s tallow? Will any man suppose that the royal sportsman could have -failed taking that obvious precaution, had there been but a single ounce -of the fat of that animal in the whole kingdom?</p> - -<p>Nobody will suppose it, said Wilson, and I am satisfied there were no -lions for the reason you assign: I must beg leave to doubt also if there -was any authority for his enormous white bulls, provided you are quite -sure that King Edward does not hint at them in his correspondence with -the Pope: but have we not<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_73">{73}</a></span> lost sight of your ancestors amongst these -lions and the bulls?</p> - -<p>Not so, replied De Lancaster, for upon the partition, which Brute made -of the kingdom between his three sons Locrine, Camber and Albanact, my -family is found in the Cambrian district upon the very spot, where Kray -Castle now stands; which will warrant me in saying without vanity that -few land-holders in the island can boast a longer tenure in their -possessions, this being not above sixty-six years after the taking of -Troy, and eleven hundred thirty and two years before the Christian æra.</p> - -<p>That is quite sufficient, said the colonel: few post-diluvian families -can produce a better title.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_74">{74}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VII-a"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> -<i>The Narrative is interrupted by the Arrival of a Letter from old Morgan of Glen Morgan.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is not always the greatest misfortune, that can befal the listener to -a long story, if the teller shall chance to be called off in the middle -of it. This was just now the case with Robert De Lancaster, who had -advanced in his narrative but a very few years on this side of the -Trojan war, when the arrival of the servant, whom he had dispatched with -his letter of congratulation to old Morgan of Glen-Morgan, cut him short -in his progress, and it probably required as much philosophy on his part -to command his patience, as it did on Wilson’s to conceal his pleasure.</p> - -<p>However this might be, De Lancaster<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_75">{75}</a></span> upon the receipt of Morgan’s answer -to his letter, came to an immediate pause in his story, and leaving -about three thousand years of his pedigree as yet unaccounted for, read -as follows—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="indd1"> -“Dear Sir,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="indd2">“Your servant duly delivered your kind letter, informing me, that -my daughter Mrs. Philip De Lancaster was safely delivered of a son; -an event, which I hope will afford much consolation to you, and be -the happy means of delivering down to future generations a name, -which from time immemorial has been highly respectable in these -parts.</p> - -<p>“To my name as one of the sponsors at the christening you have an -undoubted right, and I am flattered that you enforce it; but of my -personal attendance upon that solemnity there is I fear<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_76">{76}</a></span> but little -chance; for I am a victim to the gout, and though the snow, which -now lies on the hills, may disappear before the month is out, I -cannot expect my pains will be in the like melting mood: but He, -who is the disposer of all things, will dispose even of such a -wretched insignificant as I am.</p> - -<p>“Alas! my good brother-in-law, I am not like you a healthy, gay and -social man; I am gloomy, sullen and uncomfortable; hypochondriac by -nature, and splenetic by vexation and disease: I will not say that -I repent that ever I was a father; that would be wrong; but I do -say, that, being a father, I repent of my unfitness, and am -conscious of my errors.</p> - -<p>“One only child, whom we jointly call our daughter, was all that -Providence entrusted to me: her mother<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_77">{77}</a></span> died when she was an -infant, and I never ventured on a second marriage. I did not seek -for teachers to instruct me how to educate my child: I took that -task upon myself, and was her only master: I coveted not to -accomplish her as a fine lady; I studied to implant good principles -in her heart, and make her an honest, honourable woman. I suspect -my discipline was too rigid, for I totally overlooked amusement, -and fixed a melancholy upon her spirit, accompanied with so -absolute a submission to my dictates, that she seemed to think and -act without any will or option of her own.</p> - -<p>“When you tendered to me your alliance, I embraced it with ardour; -for I held your character then, as I do to this day, in the highest -honour and respect. Had ambition been my ruling passion, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_78">{78}</a></span> could -have looked up to nothing in point of family of superior dignity; -had avarice been my vice, how could I have gratified it more than -by marrying my daughter to the only son and heir of De Lancaster? -Your son was comely, courteous, unassuming, and though perhaps not -prominently marked with any brilliant gleams of genius, yet -certainly in moral purity no young man bore a more unblemished -character. I recommended the connection to my daughter—warmly, -anxiously recommended it—Implicitly, without appeal, in a concern -the most material she accorded to my wish, and answered at the -altar to the awful question there repeated as compliantly as she -did, when I first proposed it to her.</p> - -<p>“Now, sir, when I disclose to you that this too duteous creature -had con<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_79">{79}</a></span>ceived a passion, which under the terror of my authority -she had not courage to discover, judge what my sorrow and remorse -must be. I have, though unintentionally, made a wreck of her peace, -and endangered that of your son. I may have brought into your -family a wife without a heart for her husband, and a mother, (which -Heaven avert!) without natural affection for her offspring.</p> - -<p>“Thus I have laid the sorrows of my soul before you, and beseech -you, that, with the candour and benignity, which are natural to -you, you would look upon my child, and without revealing my secret -to your son, influence him to be mild with her, in her present -situation more especially; and this I am confident will engage her -gratitude, though I dare not promise if will gain her love.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_80">{80}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I was about to conclude with my love and blessing to the mother -and her babe, but upon reading over what in the confusion of my -thoughts I have so ill put together, I find I have omitted to tell -you, who the young man is, of whom I have been speaking. His name -is Jones, a gentleman by birth, but destitute of fortune. He was -ensign, and on a recruiting party at Denbigh, where I noticed him -for his modest manners and engaging person; having withal known his -father Colonel Jones, and served with him in the same regiment when -I was in the army, I invited this youth to make my house his -quarters, became very fond of him, and furnished him with means to -purchase a lieutenancy. I have nothing to charge him with; his -conduct towards my daughter was honourable in the extreme, and I am -in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_81">{81}</a></span>formed that it was his punctilious delicacy towards me as his -patron, that occasioned him to secede, when she probably would have -summoned resolution to have laid the state of her heart before me; -which had she done, if I know myself, I know she would have had her -lover, and Jones would have had my estate.</p> - -<p class="c"> -I have the honour to be,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dear Sir, &c. &c.<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 6em;"><span class="smcap">John Morgan</span>.”</span><br /> -</p></div> - -<p>The perusal of this melancholy letter made a deep impression on the -feeling heart of De Lancaster: he pondered on its contents for some -time, and began to arrange his thoughts for answering it in a -consolatory manner. When he had written a few lines, he laid down his -pen, and said within himself—How much better might all this be stated -face<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_82">{82}</a></span> to face in person than upon paper! He is ill, poor man, and unable -to come to me; I am in health, and will go to him; he cannot fail to -take my visit kindly, and the face of a friend is cheering, when the -spirits are depressed. I will act towards him, as I, in his -circumstances, should wish and expect him to act towards me. It is but -about four hours drive, and I can be home the next morning: if the roads -are passable, ’twill be a pleasant jaunt, for the weather is now fine, -and promises a fair day to-morrow.</p> - -<p>Having settled this point to his kind heart’s content, the good man rang -his bell, and summoned his servant, who had been to Glen-Morgan, to make -his report of the roads.</p> - -<p>Were they practicable for the coach to pass with safety? The coach -might<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_83">{83}</a></span> pass in perfect safety, for though the snow laid on the -mountains, the road was clear, and he saw no danger. The report was -satisfactory; the servant was dismissed, and the coachman summoned: upon -enquiry made as to matters within his department, every thing thereunto -appertaining, horses and carriage, were ready for the start. Cecilia was -now called into council, and the important project was announced to her: -It occasioned some surprise to her at first on account of its uncommon -spirit and vivacity, but she gave it no opposition, nor even moved the -previous question—The kindness of the motive, and care for her dear -father’s safety, occupied her gentle thoughts:—Were the roads safe, and -would he go alone? The roads were safe, and as he wished to have some -private talk with his brother<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_84">{84}</a></span> Morgan upon family affairs, he would go -alone, and return to her on the next day.</p> - -<p>It was resolved: the grand affair was settled: the solemn fiat was -announced; the note of preparation was sounded through all the lower -regions of the castle, and echoed through the range of stables—Our -master goes to-morrow to Glen-Morgan, and will stay out a whole night!</p> - -<p>When tidings of this extraordinary event were announced to Colonel -Wilson, he was in the common parlour, and had sate down to chess with -Mr. Philip De Lancaster, who took much content in that narcotic game, of -which however he scarce understood a single principle. Going to -Glen-Morgan, cried Wilson! this is news indeed: I am astonished.—I am -cheque-mated, said Philip; I can<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_85">{85}</a></span>not move a man.—By Heavens! but I am -moved with pleasure and surprise, exclaimed Wilson, to hear that your -good father meditates a visit to Glen-Morgan.—It is not above twenty -miles, said the other, and the coach is easy; he may sleep in it all the -way.—The devil he may, rejoined Wilson: You might as well expect the -coachman to fall asleep.—That is not impossible, said Philip, he is -very fat and drowsy. But now I think of it, I’ll go and angle for some -perch: I shall like to send my father-in-law a few fish of my own -catching.</p> - -<p>Do so, cried Wilson: you can stand still and catch them.—With these -words he stumped out of the room, and turning into the library, where De -Lancaster was sitting—I come to congratulate you, said he, as he -entered, upon the resolu<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_86">{86}</a></span>tion you have taken. It will warm the heart of -my old friend Morgan to be flattered with a visit from the man in all -the world he most esteems and honours.</p> - -<p>If it will give him any pleasure, I shall not regret my pains.</p> - -<p>It will, be assured, repeated Wilson. I have a letter from him by your -messenger full of sighs and groans: I don’t much heed them; for it is -his humour to deal in the dolefuls, and set himself off in the worst -light he can possibly devise: for instance, he tells me here, that his -temper, which was always execrable, is now worse than ever; and that he -is grown so touchy, that even the parson won’t trust himself to a hit at -backgammon with him. This is about as true as the account he gives of -his house-keeping, which I know is liberal to excess, but which he -represents as rascally in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_87">{87}</a></span> the extreme; pretending to say, that through -mere covetousness he has made a potatoe garden of his pleasure ground, -turned his coach-horses into the straw yard, and lowered the quality of -his Welch ale, till his servants are in mutiny, and his parishioners -consulting about hanging him in effigy.</p> - -<p>Is all this true? De Lancaster asked.</p> - -<p>Not any of it, Wilson replied. His poor neighbours are more disposed to -worship him in effigy, than to hang him. He may have planted his grounds -with potatoes, and turned his idle horses out to fodder, for I dare say -this hard winter has made havoc of his stores, as he tells me that he is -screwing up his farmers in revenge for their want of mercy to their -necessitous neighbours; but as for his covetousness, I give no credit to -that; on the contrary I happen to know that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_88">{88}</a></span> he has just now paid down -the purchase money of a company for a young officer in the line, in no -degree related to him, or indeed connected with him.</p> - -<p>Is Jones the name of that young officer?</p> - -<p>It is.</p> - -<p>Gallant, glorious old man! How I reverence him for the action! How I -honour him for his benignity! I would go to do him service, or to give -him pleasure, though I were to walk thither on foot.</p> - -<p>I perceive you know something of this Jones.</p> - -<p>If you do perceive it, you will not need to be informed of it by me: and -now as I also perceive you are in the secret of my visit, I hope you -will consent to accompany me to-morrow, and then Cecilia’s mind will be -at rest.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_89">{89}</a></span></p> - -<p>To put her mind at rest, said Wilson, where would I not go? How -willingly then shall I accompany you upon a friendly errand to a worthy -man like Morgan!</p> - -<p>Agreed! cried De Lancaster, and now I am in good humour with myself for -thinking and resolving on this visit.</p> - -<p>Let me profit by your good humour then, rejoined the colonel with a -smile, and let me hear the remainder of your genealogy; for we have -turned our backs upon the Trojan war, and are drawing near to modern -history, when, according to your doctrine, truth becomes darkened, and -we get into the regions of deception; which I shall not be sorry for, as -I confess there is ever more amusement for me in a harmless pleasant -fiction, than in a dry uninteresting matter of fact.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_90">{90}</a></span></p> - -<p>What answer De Lancaster gave to this appeal will be found in the -following chapter.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VIII-a"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /><br /> -<i>The Narrative is resumed and concluded. A learned Lecture upon Harmony, by which the unlearned hearer is not greatly edified.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Since</span> you make so polite a tender of your patience, said De Lancaster, -to me, who have already put it to so hard a trial, I must resume my -narrative from the landing of Brute and his Trojans, when my ancestors -established themselves on this very spot, I do not say in this very -castle, under Camber, the second son of the aforesaid Brute. -Lud-Hurdibras was the grandson of Camber, and King Bladud was the son of -Hur<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_91">{91}</a></span>dibras: he built, as is notorious to all the world, the city of -Bath, and was the projector of those salubrious baths, that <i>William of -Malmsbury</i> would fain ascribe to Julius Cæsar, which I pronounce to be -an egregious anachronism, and you may take it <i>meo periculo</i>.</p> - -<p>I take it at my own peril, said the colonel; for I have seen Bladud -himself with these very eyes standing centinel over the bath of his own -making, and I never met with any body hardy enough to dispute his title -to it.</p> - -<p>Let it pass then! He was a benefactor to mankind by the institution of -those baths, and might have been more eminently so, had his opinion upon -the practicability of men’s flying in the air been established upon -experiment. I confess there is much plausibility in the project, but I -am also aware of some<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_92">{92}</a></span> difficulties attending it, which merit -consideration. I do not say it may not be achieved, but I am not -prepared to recommend the undertaking to any friend, whose life is of -immediate consequence to his family.</p> - -<p>It would be a famous lift, said the wooden-legged warrior, to people in -my mutilated predicament; and though I am not quite disposed to the -experiment myself, any body else, who is so inclined, will have my good -wishes.</p> - -<p>That was exactly the language, cried De Lancaster, of King Bladud’s -courtiers, and the learned men of the time. They unanimously declared -that many notable discoveries might be struck out in astrology, which -was the reigning study of the day, if men would fly up high enough to -look after them; but they were not impatient to be amongst<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_93">{93}</a></span> the first to -fly upon those discoveries. My ancestor however, who was then about the -person of the king, and an enthusiastic admirer of the sublime and -beautiful, went a step beyond them all, and actually contrived a very -ample and becoming pair of artificial wings, which in the judgment of -the very best mechanics then living promised all possible success to the -experiment. Upon their exhibition in presence of the sovereign and of a -committee specially appointed, so charmed was King Bladud with the skill -displayed in their construction, that he was graciously pleased to -authorize and empower the inventor himself to make trial of his own -pinions, with free leave to fly as far and as high as he saw fit, and to -perch at discretion wherever it might suit him, the chimney tops and -lattices of the cham<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_94">{94}</a></span>bers even of the maids of honour not excepted.</p> - -<p>Happy man! cried Wilson; this was a roving commission of a most tempting -sort, and I hope your ancestor had too much gallantry to hesitate about -embracing it.</p> - -<p>I beg your pardon, replied De Lancaster, my ancestor was not a man of -that forward character as to aspire to situations, that ought to be -above the ambition of a subject, but when this flattering offer was with -all becoming thankfulness most modestly declined, King Bladud himself -(as my ancestor no doubt foresaw) had the aforesaid wings fitted to his -royal shoulders; ascended the roof of the temple of Apollo (at that time -the loftiest edifice in the city of Troy-nouvant) and launching himself -into the air confidently, as became a prince so saga<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_95">{95}</a></span>cious and -philosophical, committed his sacred person to the protection of Apollo -and the artificial supporters, which promised him so delicious an -excursion. Whether the fault was in the wings themselves, or in King -Bladud’s want of dexterity in the management of them, is not for me to -determine; but history puts it out of doubt that the attempt was fatal -to the adventurous monarch. He fell headlong on the steps of the temple, -(as you see in the picture fronting you) and was dashed in pieces in the -twentieth year of his reign, and the two hundred and twentieth from the -landing of Brute. All the world believed my ancestor a lost man, but -Lear, son of Bladud and heir to his kingdom, being a prince of a most -noble nature, and sensible to whom he was indebted for his so early -elevation to the throne, rewarded the artificer of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_96">{96}</a></span> father’s pinions -by empowering him to affix them to his armorial bearing of the harp, and -from that hour to this the harp of the bard between the wings of Bladud -has been the proper and distinguishing shield of the De Lancasters, as -not only the records of the herald’s office, but the head of every spout -appertaining to the castle, can testify and evince.</p> - -<p>The spouts alone would satisfy me, said the colonel, but the heralds and -the spouts together are authorities incontestible; but since you have -named Lear, I should wish to know if he is that very Lear, who, -according to the drama of our poet Shakespear, having parted his kingdom -between his two ungrateful daughters Gonerill and Regan, ran mad upon -the reflection of his own folly for having done it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_97">{97}</a></span></p> - -<p>For his madness, replied De Lancaster, there is no authority. He -bestowed his eldest daughter Gonerill in marriage to Henuinus, Duke of -Cornwall, and Regan to Maglanus, Duke of Albania. His youngest daughter -Cordelia, who was justly his favourite, married Aganippus, prince of -Gallia, and succeeded to the crown at Lear’s death, being the first of -her sex, who had ever borne the title of queen absolute and governess of -Britain. After the decease of Aganippus she fell a victim to the malice -of her nephews Cunedagius and Morgan, sons of her unworthy sisters, and -being thrown into prison by them, died, after a reign of only five -years, by her own hand. The usurpers, who at first agreed to divide the -empire, soon rose in arms against each other, and Morgan was slain in -Cambria by Cunedagius, where<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_98">{98}</a></span> the place of his death is yet called -Glen-Morgan, or Morgan’s Land, now in the possession of the friend, to -whom we meditate to-morrow’s visit.—But I am hastening to release you, -and conclude my narrative—The line of Brute, the Trojan, ended in the -year 3476 with Ferrex and Porrex, sons of old King Gorbodug, who swayed -the sceptre through a period of sixty and two years. During the whole -time of the Pentarchy, that took place upon the decease of the -abovenamed sons of Gorbodug, my family appear to have kept close in -their Cambrian retirement, till the reign of Mulmutius Dunwallo, -immediately subsequent to the Pentarchy. It was then that a learned -ancestor of mine assisted Mulmutius in compiling that incomparable code -of laws, which being turned into Latin from the British language by<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_99">{99}</a></span> -Gildus Priscus, was in time long after translated into English by the -great King Alfred, and by him incorporated amongst his famous -statutes.—And now, my good friend, as I have always determined to have -nothing to do with modern history, I here wind up my long detail, -congratulating myself that those, from whom I trace my blood, had the -good sense to keep close in their quarters in Cambria upon the landing -of the Romans, never deigning to mix or intermarry either with them or -the Picts, who came with Roderic A. D. 73, or with the Saxons, who first -entered the land A. D. 390, or with the Danes in the time of Egbert, -much less with the Normans in a more recent period, but remained pure -and unadulterated from the days of Samothes, the grandson of Noah, to -the present moment, in which<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_100">{100}</a></span> I have the honour of thanking you for the -attention, you have been pleased to bestow upon a detail, which I fear -has been extremely tedious and unentertaining to you throughout.</p> - -<p>Assure yourself, my good sir, replied Wilson, that the attention I have -bestowed on your narrative has been amply repaid by the entertainment I -have received from it. You have given me a history of my native country, -which in many parts was perfectly new to me, and if it had had no -concern whatever with your genealogy, still it would have been -interesting to me, who have never thought, nor had the curiosity to -enquire, about the annals of a time so very distant. That you have -authorities for what you have narrated I cannot doubt, for I am sure you -are incapable of a voluntary fiction, which, if any such there is, must<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_101">{101}</a></span> -rest with others, not with you. As for the gratification you may derive -from the persuasion, that you can trace your descent from the son of -Noah, and by consequence, through Noah, even from Adam himself, grace -forbid I should attempt to lessen it, persuaded as I am, that you have -too much consideration for Moses to enlist with the Pre-Adamites. At the -same time I am free to own, that my respect for you, being founded on -the virtues of your character, receives little addition from the -circumstances of your pedigree; let me not however be considered as an -abettor of plebean sentiments; I acknowledge a degree of prejudice for a -well-born gentleman, and so long as you display the wings of King Bladud -only on the shoulders of King Bardus’s harp, I look with respect upon -your ancient banners;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_102">{102}</a></span> and henceforward when blind David Williams shall -make your castle hall resound with his melodious harp, I shall recollect -with pleasure that you have not only a natural delight, but also an -hereditary interest, in that noble instrument. I am myself a lover of -music; but it is a love without knowledge, for I neither know the -practice, nor ever studied the theory of it. I like this tune, and I -can’t tell why; I don’t like that, and can assign no reason for it. If -music only creates surprise in me by the wonderful execution of a -performer, I scarcely wish to hear it above once; if it moves my -passions, and elicits (as it sometimes will) my tears, I could listen to -it, as I may say, for ever; no repetition can exhaust the charm. What -this is I cannot define, and for that very reason I suppose it to be -nature; for art<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_103">{103}</a></span> admits of explanation, but there is no logic, that -applies to instinct.</p> - -<p>This was an unlucky remark, and the colonel stepped a little out of his -natural character when he risqued it: had he kept clear of definitions, -and said nothing about instinct, he might have escaped a lecture on the -Harmonics, which now became unavoidable, and he heard himself addressed -as follows—</p> - -<p>You discern correctly, my good colonel, as to effect, not so as to -cause. You say there is no logic, that applies to instinct; I say there -is no instinct, that applies to rationality: the brute creation is -submitted to it, and directed by it; man must not offer to degrade his -virtues, or defend his vices, by a reference to instinct: the plea of -impulse will not save the criminal; for there are no propensities, which -reason may not conquer.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_104">{104}</a></span> From what you tell me I perceive that you -understand as much of music as ninety-nine in a hundred, who affect to -profess it, and more than many, who profess to teach it, forasmuch as -you feel it: now as there can be no effect without a cause, depend upon -it, there is a reason why you feel exactly in the manner you describe, -and in no other, though to investigate that reason, and intelligibly -describe it to you, cannot be done without a more intimate knowledge of -the constituent properties and powers of music, than falls to many -people’s lot to attain. To descant upon these at present would take up -more time than either of us would perhaps find convenient to devote to -it. I will postpone it to a better opportunity, when I flatter myself I -shall be able to relate to you so many striking instances of the -astonish<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_105">{105}</a></span>ing powers of harmony, as will set that sacred science in a -stronger and a clearer light, than you may be as yet aware of. Believe -me, it is one of the sublimest studies, that the human faculties can -embrace. The systems, that have come down to us from the Greek and Roman -harmonists, as well as all that has been written by the moderns on that -subject, are above measure difficult, elaborate and recondite—</p> - -<p>Then I shall never understand them, said the colonel, nor desire to have -any thing to do with them.</p> - -<p>Pardon me! resumed De Lancaster: If leisure now served, I could give you -specimens of the pains I have taken in the way of illustration, not only -with the learned treatise of <i>Vincentio Galilei</i>, a noble Spaniard, -published in the year 1581, but also with the Satyricon of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_106">{106}</a></span> <i>Martianus -Capella</i>, as edited and illustrated by the celebrated Grotius in his -early years. Permit me to say that I could give you the scale, and mark -out to you the distinct semitones of <i>Quarlino</i>, <i>Giovanni Bardi</i>, and -<i>Pierro Strozzi</i>. This would be demonstration, that could not fail to -edify, and at the same time I would adduce such evidence, as should -prove to you that my ancestorial harp was the very prototype of that, -which <i>Epigonus</i> of <i>Ambracia</i> was said to have played upon with forty -strings, when he first taught the Sicyonian minstrels to lay aside the -plectrum, and employ their fingers in the place of it: when <i>Julius -Pollux</i> therefore gives this new-constructed harp the name of Epigonium -in honour of Epigonus, it is a mere trick, after the custom of the -Greeks, to arrogate all originality to their countrymen,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_107">{107}</a></span> and defraud my -ancestor of his prior title to give name to his own invention. In like -manner I can detect their plagiarism, when they ascribe the invention of -the double-headed plectrum to Sappho, whilst I have models still in my -possession, that prove it to have been the very identical plectrum in -general use, when my ingenious ancestor struck out a better practice. I -am therefore very naturally interested to prevent my ancestorial harp -from being confounded with the seven-stringed lyre, ascribed by Homer to -Mercury, of which the testudo formed the sounding-board; much less would -I have it mistaken for that delineated by <i>Hyginus</i> with crooked arms, -and least of all with the suspicious model in the museum of the Medici.</p> - -<p>All this, my dear sir, said the colonel, I should be extremely delighted -with,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_108">{108}</a></span> were I capable of understanding it; but alas! how should I, who -was never accustomed to admire any thing above the crash of a regimental -band, comprehend a single word of what you have been saying to me? That -I am capable of preferring one tune before another is all I pretend to, -but to assign any reason for that preference is what I do not pretend -to.</p> - -<p>Yet there is a reason, resumed De Lancaster, and that reason is not -inscrutable to all, because not enquired into by you. That <i>tones</i> have -power over the human feelings will not be disputed; but tones have -different properties, and of course different operations: the one, -entire, full and legitimate <i>tone</i> contains within itself a variety of -divisional parts, by the expression and application of which various -passions may<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_109">{109}</a></span> be excited, and various effects produced. The full tone -may be resolved into the half-tone, or <i>hemitonium</i>; the half-tone into -the quarter-tone, or <i>diesis</i>; neither does its divisibility stop here, -for the diesis may be again resolved, first, into its proper -quarter-tone, or <i>tetartemoria</i>, which be pleased to observe, is also -called <i>enarmonios</i>; secondly, into its third of a tone, or -<i>tritemoria</i>, (which by the way is the true chromatique) and thirdly and -lastly, into a tone, which involves a third part of a full tone and half -a third, and this is called <i>hemiolia</i>—And now, my good friend, having -given you some insight into the various combinations and resolutions of -musical tones, according to the system of the Greek writers on the -harmonics, (which, though briefly stated, cannot fail to be perfectly -clear to your comprehension) I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_110">{110}</a></span> think I may trust you to discover the -reason, why certain modulations and assortments of tones are pleasing to -you, and others not. These are the elements of all harmony, and as you -are now fully possessed of the definition of them, you cannot possibly -find any difficulty in the application.</p> - -<p>I am under no difficulty at all, cried the colonel, in finding out when -I am pleased, and that being the only discovery I have any concern in, I -will trouble you no further to explain to me why I am pleased, but take -your word for having given me the true reason, and be content.</p> - -<p>Here the lecture ended as many lectures do: the expounder was perfectly -satisfied with the instruction he had imparted, and the disciple was -entirely reconciled to remain in igno<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_111">{111}</a></span>rance of what he did not wish to -understand.</p> - -<p>At this moment Cecilia opportunely entered the room, and the -recollection of Sir Owen’s proposal instantly occuring to her father, he -desired to have a little private talk with her, and Wilson on the hint -withdrew.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IX-a"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /><br /> -<i>The last in the Book. The Author presents Cecilia De Lancaster to his Readers, and trusts that he exhibits no unnatural, or ideal, Character.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Cecilia De Lancaster</span>, of whom I am about to speak, was now in her -twenty-ninth year, and three years younger than her brother Philip, -father of our hero John. I have already said,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_112">{112}</a></span> that, since her father -had been a widower, she had persisted in devoting her attention to him, -and to the superintendance of his household.</p> - -<p>Convinced that she possessed his entire affection, and sensible that his -happiness in a great degree depended upon her, she had hitherto -withstood every overture for changing her condition. The harmony, -typified in her name, was realized in her nature: it was manifested and -expressed in every movement, every feature of her mind, her temper and -her person. Time, that had robbed her of the freshness of her bloom, had -repaid her by maturing and improving charms more permanent, endowments -more attractive. There was a smile, so characteristically her own, that -it was hard to conceive it could ever be bestowed without being felt,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_113">{113}</a></span> -and, such was her discernment, that perhaps it was very rarely bestowed -where it was not deserved. Her eyes were the genuine interpreters of her -heart: when turned upon the poor or afflicted, they melted into -compassion; when directed towards her friends, they glistened with -affection; when uplifted towards her God, their expression might be -called divine. Her voice came upon the ear like music—There is a -passage in a letter written by our hero to one of his friends, that -describes it in the following terms. “It is,” says he, “of so sweet a -pitch, that, whensoever it is heard, I am struck with wonder how it -comes to pass, that others do not tune their voices to it: for my own -part I may say, that my first efforts of articulation were instinctively -in unison with her tones; and therefore it is, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_114">{114}</a></span> I have never -entered into argument with loud and boisterous speakers, or elevated my -voice to the annoyance of any man’s ears, since I have been admitted -into society.”</p> - -<p>Such was Cecilia De Lancaster, who now in that sweet voice, which we -have been describing—(Oh that ye would imitate it, ye tuneless -talkers!) requested her father to impart to her his commands, not -unaware that they most probably referred to his interview with her -importunate admirer Sir Owen ap Owen, baronet, of Penruth Abbey.</p> - -<p>This conjecture was soon confirmed by the recital, which her father now -gave of the baronet’s proposals; he stated them as advantageously for -the proponent, as the case would admit of: his family and fortune were -unexceptionable; he saw no objection to him on<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_115">{115}</a></span> the score of temper; he -had the character of being a kind master, an easy landlord and a -hospitable neighbour: it must be owned that the good man was not -overstocked with wit or learning, but he had no conceit or -self-sufficiency to betray him into attempts, that might subject him to -ridicule: his pursuits were not above the level of his understanding, so -that upon the whole he thought his friend Sir Owen might pass muster -with the generality of country gentlemen.</p> - -<p>I think of him, said Cecilia, exactly as you do; his pursuits are suited -to his understanding, and his manners are suited to his pursuits: these -are easily counted up, for they consist in little else but his hounds -and his bottle: I can partake of neither; my happiness centers in the -consciousness of possessing the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_116">{116}</a></span> good opinion and affection of my -beloved father: That blessing I enjoy at home; I need not run to Penruth -Abbey in pursuit of it; ’tis here, and ever present whilst I am with -you. As for Sir Owen’s addresses, he has repeated them so often for the -last five years, and has so constantly received the same answer, that I -must suppose he now compliments me with his proposal rather from habit, -than with any serious idea, that it can avail. As a neighbour I shall be -glad to see Sir Owen, even at the tea-table, provided he is sober, but -as a lover I hope to see no more of him, and I flatter myself I shall -not; especially should a certain lady arrive, whom I understand he is -expecting at the Abbey.</p> - -<p>Upon De Lancaster’s asking who that lady was, Cecilia informed him that -she<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_117">{117}</a></span> was the widow of his brother David, the Spanish merchant, lately -deceased. This lady she understood to be a native of Spain, and that she -was bringing with her from Cadiz a boy, the nephew of Sir Owen, and of -course presumptive heir to his estate and title. Judge then, added she, -if some address will not be employed by Mrs. Owen to keep her son in the -succession, and if my poor lover has nothing but his Welch wits to -oppose to her Spanish finesse, it is easy to conjecture what turn the -politics of Penruth Abbey are likely to take.</p> - -<p>Well, cried the father, it was my part to make good my promise to Sir -Owen; it is your’s to decide upon his fate. This you have done, and I -may now say without scruple, you have wisely done; yet recollect my dear -Cecilia, we have as yet but this one infant in our stock,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_118">{118}</a></span> and I do not -expect that Mrs. De Lancaster will prove a very prolific mother.</p> - -<p>I trust, replied Cecilia, that this fine boy will live, and then I shall -think Mrs. De Lancaster a very fortunate mother, though she may never -greet us with a second hope.</p> - -<p>Heaven grant the child may live! exclaimed De Lancaster; devoutly I -implore it. But oh! my dear Cecilia, where is our stream of ancestry -alive but in yourself? In whose veins but in your’s does the ancient -current of our blood run pure? Look at your brother! <i>Look at the rock, -from which this child is hewn!</i> Is there in that dead mass one spark of -native fire, one quickening ray of genius?—No; not one. Stampt with an -inauspicious name, he is of all the foregone Philips <i>Philippissimus</i>. -Look at the hapless mother of the babe!<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_119">{119}</a></span> Has she a heart? I know she has -not that, which answers to the name: she had, but it is gone. Alas for -thee, poor babe! being so fathered and so mothered, child, from whom -can’st thou derive or heart or head—?</p> - -<p>From you, his grandfather, replied Cecilia: Come, come, my dearest sir, -I’ll not allow of this despondency. Rise from your chair, and come with -me and visit this new scyon of your stock! Look in his lovely face; -contemplate the bright promise of a true De Lancaster, a virtuous hero, -born to crown your name with honour: See him! you’ll own how Providence -has blessed you, and blush for having doubted.</p> - -<p>The father rose, took the hand of his daughter, and, whilst the tears -were brimming in his eyes, followed where she led.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_120">{120}</a></span></p> - -<p>Now, my friendly reader, if you have gone patiently along with me -through the pages of this my first book, let me hope that you will -proceed not unpleasantly to the conclusion of the next.</p> - -<p>You know that every story must have time to expand itself: characters -must not be hurried into action before they are understood; and a novel, -though it ought to be dramatic, is not absolutely a drama.</p> - -<p>My hero is yet in the cradle, and I must keep his grandfather and others -in the foreground, till he is fit to be presented to you: when that time -comes, old age may cease to prattle, philology may fall back and <span class="smcap">Nature</span> -step forward to conduct and close the scene.</p> - -<p>In the mean time if I take the freedom of saying a few words, whilst the -fable pauses, recollect that I cannot in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_121">{121}</a></span> course of nature have many -more opportunities of conversing with you, and few have been the -writers, with whom you have had more frequent intercourse, or who have -been more pertinaciously industrious to deserve your favour and esteem, -for I am now striving to amuse and edify even the youngest of my -readers, when I myself am short of fourscore years by less than four; -and I am inclined to believe, that the mere manual operation of writing -these pages, (as I am now doing for the third time with my own hand) -would be found task enough for any person of my age, without engaging in -the labour of inventing, or the risque of fathering them.</p> - -<p>Be that as it may, the work is done, and done, not in the evil spirit of -the time, but without a single glance at any living character; conscious -therefore<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_122">{122}</a></span> that I have not endangered what is sacred to me as a -gentleman, the critics are most cordially welcome to every thing they -can find about me as an author. However as I know some of them to be -fair and honourable gentlemen, I hope they will recollect how often I -have been useful to them in the sale of their publications, and assist -me now with their good word in the circulation of De Lancaster.</p> - -<p class="fint">END OF THE FIRST BOOK.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_123">{123}</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><a id="BOOK_THE_SECOND"></a>BOOK THE SECOND.</h2> - -<p class="figcenter"><img src="images/bar.png" -width="90" -alt="————" /></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_I-b"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> -<i>A Country Visit according to the old Costuma.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">By</span> peep of day every thing, that had life, in and about Kray Castle, -horses, dogs and cats included, were up and in motion, save only the -lady in the straw, who could not rise, and the gentleman in bed, who did -not chuse to leave it, namely Philip the fisher, who had not got one -perch, and probably not so many <i>bites</i> from beside the banks, as he had -been favoured with from between the blankets.</p> - -<p>The two companions, who had pledged themselves to this adventure, -rendezvoused at the same moment, though not<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_124">{124}</a></span> exactly under the same -colours; for whilst the scarlet of De Lancaster’s apparel was fiery -bright, the uniform of Wilson had a cast of the campagne in it, having -seen some service, and endured some smoke.</p> - -<p>Amongst the numerous personages, who attended these adventurers to the -door of the vehicle, in which they embarked their bodies, our new-born -hero took a conspicuous post, probably more in compliment to the -curiosity of his nurse, than selfishly to gratify his own. Nevertheless -it is recorded, that when the machine, (called in those days a coach) -was put in motion by the joint energy of six fat coach-horses and one -fat driver, little John clapped his hands, and crowed amain for joy: if -he made any speech upon the occasion, there was one more instance of -miraculous pre<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_125">{125}</a></span>maturity lost to the world, for nobody remembered it.</p> - -<p>Though the country they had to travel over was not quite so flat as -Norfolk, nor the road altogether like a gravel walk, yet the journey was -prosperous, for the team was strong, and a persevering amble, now and -then exasperated into an actual trot, brought the travellers within -sight of the mansion, embowered in yew-trees, where dwelt the descendant -of King Lear, father of a daughter less ambitious than Regan, but far -more dutiful.</p> - -<p>A forerunner, who without trial of his speed, had outstripped the coach -by some miles, had announced the coming of the lord of Kray Castle, and -the fires in the old conventual kitchen sparkled at the news: the -drunken old warder had got on his fur gown, and the bard of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_126">{126}</a></span> family -was ready in the gallery of the great hall to give the customary -salutation to so honourable a guest. When Mr. De Lancaster had passed -the abbey-like porch, and found himself in the aforesaid hall, he turned -round, and made a courteous inclination of his head to the harper, who, -like Timotheus, was <i>placed on high</i>: noticing the domestics and -retainers, who lined his passage to the receiving room, he said in a -whisper to his friend the colonel—These honest folks don’t look as if -they had suffered by a reduction either of the quantity or quality of -their Welch ale.—When ushered into the room, where the master of the -mansion was, they found him sitting in his gouty chair, with his foot -wrapped in flannel on a stool, in company with a great collection of -Morgans, who hung quietly by the wall:<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_127">{127}</a></span> upon sight of De Lancaster his -countenance was lighted up with joy. This is kind indeed, he exclaimed; -this is an honour I could not expect, and a favour I shall never forget, -taking the hand of De Lancaster, and making an effort, as if to press it -to his lips. Turning to Colonel Wilson, he cried—Ah my old friend, I am -happy to see you. Welcome to Glen-Morgan! Why you look bravely, and are -nimbler upon one leg, than I am upon two: you see how I am suffering for -the sins of my youth.—He then called out amain for Mrs. Richards his -housekeeper; he might have spared himself the trouble, for Mrs. Richards -was in the room, and made herself responsible for well-aired beds, -reminding her master, who questioned her very closely, that Captain -Jones had lodged ten nights in the room, which she had<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_128">{128}</a></span> prepared for Mr. -De Lancaster, and he had left Glen-Morgan that very morning: the same -good care had been taken of Colonel Wilson’s apartment. Satisfaction -being given upon these points, Mrs. Richards was strictly enjoined to -see that not an individual belonging to his worthy guest wanted for any -thing in his house, nay, if a dog had followed his coach, let it be her -duty to take care that he was welcomed and well fed.—These were the -manners, and such the primitive hospitality of those days.</p> - -<p>When dinner was announced, and old Morgan, wheeled in his chair into the -eating-room, the parson in his canonicals at the foot of the table gave -his benediction to an abundant mass of steaming viands, which bespoke a -liberal rather than an elegant provider. A grave and elderly gentleman, -who had the health<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_129">{129}</a></span> of the family under his care, pronounced a loud Amen -at the conclusion of the parson’s prayer, and the butler at the -sideboard bowed his head. The family lawyer was also present, having a -dinner retainer ad libitum, and a painter of no small eminence, who was -upon his tour for the purpose of taking sketches of back-grounds for his -portraits, completed the party.</p> - -<p>Every guest at table had an attendant at his back in full livery of -green and red with boot-cuffs, on which the tailor of the household had -wantonly bestowed such a bountiful profusion of scarlet plush, that the -hand, which gave a plate, seldom failed to sweep away the bread beside -it, or the knife and fork, as it might happen: some discomposure also -occurred to the wearers of wigs, when a dish was put on or taken off -from the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_130">{130}</a></span> table. The harp would not have been silent, but that Mr. De -Lancaster observed, that the din of the table would probably be louder -than the melody of the serenade, and with much good reason suggested, -that it might be more respectful to the musician, not to call upon him -for his attendance till there was a better chance for hearing his -performance.</p> - -<p>When the table at length was cleared, and the health of the new-born -heir had gone round, De Lancaster did not fail to call for the minstrel, -and Mr. Gryffin Gryffin made his entrance with his harp, habited in his -garb of office with his badge of merit pendant on his breast. After a -prelude, calculated to display his powers of execution, he paused to -know if it was the pleasure of the company to honour him with their -choice of any fa<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_131">{131}</a></span>vourite melody; to this De Lancaster with his usual -courtesy made answer, that for himself he should much prefer to hear -some strain of Mr. Gryffin’s own composition, accompanied by the voice. -Gryffin bowed, and confessed that he had been employed upon a simple -melody of a pensive and pathetic cast, adapted to a few valedictory -stanzas, which Captain Jones, who had that morning departed from -Glen-Morgan to embark for the West Indies, had left upon his table, -purposely, as it should seem, to fall into his hands.—</p> - -<p>By all means give us those! was the exclamation of more than one person -in the company.</p> - -<p>The obedient minstrel again made a graceful reverence, and throwing his -hands upon his harp, sung as follows<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_132">{132}</a></span>—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Hark, hark, tis the bugle! It wafts to my ear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The signal for parting—Adieu to my dear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I go to the isles, where the climate is death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And Fate’s pallid hand weaves my funeral wreath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“When I leave my soul’s treasure forlorn on the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And I strain my sad eyes, till they see her no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“My sorrows unheeded no pity shall move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“While my cold-hearted comrades cry—Why did you love?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A soldier, whose sword is his all, should obey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“No mistress but Honor—and truly they say—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Behold! at her call, to my duty I fly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Can a soldier do more for his honor than die?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>When Mr. Gryffin Gryffin had concluded his madrigal, of which the melody -at least was extremely well composed, the painter, who ought to have -been a better critic, than to have overlooked the effect, which it had -had upon the countenance of old Morgan, unad<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_133">{133}</a></span>visedly enquired who the -mistress of the poet was—A poet’s mistress, you may be sure, De -Lancaster instantly replied; every thing is imaginary; the mistress and -the muse are alike ideal beings, and death and dying are only put in to -make out the rhymes; then turning to the master of the table, he -said—Brother Morgan, I perceive you drink no wine; I have had my glass, -and if the company will excuse us, you and I old fellows will leave them -to their claret, and take a cup of coffee tete à tete in the next room.</p> - -<p>The motion was seasonable, and so immediately seconded by the man of -medicine, that the mover and the man to be moved soon found themselves -in a situation equally well adapted to the compassionate object of the -one, and the seasonable relief of the other.</p> - -<p>Here as soon as they had taken their<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_134">{134}</a></span> seats, and were left to -themselves, De Lancaster commenced his lecture <i>De consolatione</i>. On -this occasion it so happened, that a fair opportunity was not made use -of, for, except a slight hint at Cicero and his daughter, very little -philology or common-place argument were resorted to: common sense was -found upon trial to answer all purposes quite as well: when the one -lamented that he had not discovered his daughter’s attachment, the other -very naturally demanded, who but the lady was to be blamed for that? -Where there was such a flagrant want of confidence on the part of the -daughter, and no compulsion on that of the father, by what kind of -sophistry could he suggest occasion for any self-reproach?—To this when -Morgan answered, that he feared his daughter had been awed into<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_135">{135}</a></span> -concealment, De Lancaster sharply replied, that he defied him to assign -any honourable motive for a disingenuous action: a father could only -recommend the situation, which he thought most eligible and advantageous -for his child, presuming that she had not previously engaged her heart; -in which if he was deceived by her, it only proved that either he was -very unsuspecting, or she extremely cunning. In conclusion Morgan was -driven to confess that his only remaining compunction arose from the -reflection upon what Mr. Philip De Lancaster might suffer by a -connection, so little likely to promote his happiness.</p> - -<p>If that be your regret, resumed De Lancaster, dismiss it from your mind -at once. Philip is made at all points for your daughter: no couple can -be better paired. Fondness on either side would<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_136">{136}</a></span> destroy their mutual -tranquillity. They have given us, under Providence, a grandson, and if -that blessing be continued to us, you and I must agree to regard the -intermediate generation as a blank, and rest our only hope on what that -child may be.</p> - -<p>Heaven grant him life, cried Morgan! You have cured me of the mournfuls. -Let us join our friends.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_II-b"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> -<i>Robert De Lancaster returns to Kray-Castle. Another Visit is in Meditation.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> the porter, who lays down his burden and his knot, has probably a -quicker sense, and greater relish for the pleasure, which that -relaxation gives, than the gentleman, who never carried<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_137">{137}</a></span> any thing -heavier than the coat upon his back, so did it fare with the good old -lord paramount of the manor of Glen-Morgan. He was just now the lightest -man in the company, forasmuch as he had got rid of a heavy wallet of -vexations, and in the gaiety of his heart, he declared, that as for any -pain the gout could give (which in fact at that very moment gave no pain -at all) he regarded it as nothing: a man was not to flinch and make wry -faces at a little twinge of the toe, when he had a gallant officer in -his eye, who had undergone the amputation of a leg.</p> - -<p>Yes, said the colonel, I have lost one leg; I should not like to lose -another; but in our way of life we must take things as they turn out; -considering how often I have heard the bullets whistle, I think myself -well off.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_138">{138}</a></span></p> - -<p>I perceive, cried the painter, it is your right leg, colonel, which you -have lost: the misfortune I should think would have been greater, had -you been deprived of your right arm.</p> - -<p>So the world would think, sir, replied the colonel, had it been your -case; but we poor soldiers sometimes want our legs to save our lives.</p> - -<p>Your wounds sometimes, said De Lancaster, will save your lives: the -scars, that Caius Marius bore about him, rendered his visage so -terrible, that the assassinating soldier did not dare to strike him.—I -have painted him in that very crisis, replied the artist; but I confess -I have trusted to his natural expression, and left out the scars.—You -have done right as a painter, rejoined De Lancaster; an historian is -tied down to facts.</p> - -<p>After an evening, passed in conver<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_139">{139}</a></span>sation, cheerful at least, though -little worth recording, and a night consumed in sleep, of which no -record can be taken, Robert De Lancaster rose with the sun, and, after -about five hours travel, was set down in safety with his friend the -colonel at his castle door, where Cecilia met him with a smiling -welcome, and a happy report, that all was well. This report was in a few -minutes after confirmed by Mr. Llewellyn, who had the health of the lady -above stairs under his care. Mr. Philip also presented himself, and our -hero John, (though last and least) exhibited his person, and seemed -perfectly well satisfied with the reception, that was given him.</p> - -<p>Llewellyn was a man of information, and had a spirit of enquiry, by -which he became to the full as deep in the secrets of the families he -visited, as in those<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_140">{140}</a></span> of the medicines he administered. To Sir Owen at -all times, sick or well, he had free access, and he paid him more than -professional attendance: he now brought the news of Mrs. David Owen’s -arrival at Penruth Abbey. He had seen her, and being as usual in a -communicative vein, he proceeded to launch out into many of those -trivial particulars, which are of easy carriage, and with which -gentlemen of his vocation are apt to enrich their conversation to the -great edification and amusement of their employers.</p> - -<p>Mr. Llewellyn would not positively pronounce Mrs. David Owen to be a -beauty, yet he was aware that many people would call her pretty; she was -not however to his taste: there was a want of sensibility and a certain -delicacy of expression, which in his conception<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_141">{141}</a></span> of the female character -(and here he addressed himself to Cecilia) was the very <i>crisis</i> of all -that is charming in woman.</p> - -<p>You mean <i>criterion</i>, my friend, said De Lancaster, but you are <i>in the -shop</i>, and there errors are excepted; so go on; proceed with your -description.</p> - -<p>Mr. Llewellyn was too well accustomed to these little rubs to be daunted -by them, and finding that he had gained attention, proceeded to describe -Mrs. Owen as a sprightly little woman of a very dark complexion, with an -aquiline nose, quick sparkling eyes and thick arched eyebrows, black as -the raven’s plume: Mr. Llewellyn professed himself no admirer of black -hair; (Cecilia’s was light brown). Her dress, he said, was after the -fashion of the Spanish ladies, as he had seen them represented on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_142">{142}</a></span> -London stage, when <i>he walked the hospitals</i>.—Here Mr. Llewellyn made -another slip, but it was out of De Lancaster’s reach, who had no data -for a comment.—He acknowledged that her style of dress was well -calculated to set off her shape, and display the elegance of her taper -limbs to the best advantage: he would have the company be prepared to -encounter the sight of bare elbows and short petticoats; for his own -part he was no friend to either. She had taken up her guitar at Sir -Owen’s desire, and sung two or three of her Spanish airs, accompanied by -certain twanging strokes on that instrument, which, though it resembled -nothing that could be called playing, had however no unpleasing effect. -She sung in a high shrill tone, and accompanied the words, which he did -not understand, with certain looks<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_143">{143}</a></span> and gestures, which he did not wish -to describe.</p> - -<p>Their melodies are Moorish, said De Lancaster; they use a great deal of -action when they sing: the Greeks themselves did the same. Does Mrs. -David Owen speak English?</p> - -<p>With great fluency, but with a foreign accent. She had her son with her, -about four or five years old, the very picture of herself; extremely -forward, cunning and intelligent beyond what could be expected from a -child of his age. Sir Owen had been rather disconcerted and thrown out -of his bias by his visitors on their first arrival; but he had now -acquiesced, and the lady seemed to have the game in hand. Mr. Llewellyn -concluded by declaring, that if he had not been told she was a Spaniard, -he should verily have suspected her to be a Jewess.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_144">{144}</a></span></p> - -<p>Whether she be Jewess or Christian, said the master of the family, we -must pay her the compliment of a first visit, and without delay.</p> - -<p>The next morning, as soon as the sun appeared upon the eastern hills, -and gave the promise of a fair day, order of march was given out for the -afternoon; dinner was announced for an early hour, and again the -body-coach set out with De Lancaster and Cecilia occupying the seat of -honour, and Philip with his back to the great front glass, followed by -two reverend personages grey-headed, and in no respect resembling light -horsemen, save only that they carried arms before them, though not in -holsters of the newest military fashion. The elegant simplicity of -Cecilia’s dress very happily contrasted the splendid drapery of the old -gentleman, who had relieved the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_145">{145}</a></span> scarlet coat, not in the happiest -manner, with a waistcoat of purple satin, richly embroidered with gold, -and not much exceeded by the coat in the length of its flaps, or the -capaciousness of its pockets. Philip was by no means over-studious of -the toilette. Colonel Wilson had gone home to receive his son Edward, -who was now elected off from Westminster school to Trinity College in -Cambridge.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_III-b"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> -<i>The Visit to Penruth Abbey. Certain Personages, who will fill conspicuous Parts in this eventful History, are introduced to our Readers.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> the cumbrous machine, to which the family of the De Lancasters had -now committed their persons, disdained the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_146">{146}</a></span> novelty of springs, it was -well for the company within that it was provided with a soft lining of -blue velvet and enormous cushions, stuft with swan’s down. It had been -the admiration of the county, when its owner served the office of -sheriff about twenty years past, and though its original splendour was -somewhat faded, it still exhibited on its pannels a vast shield -emblazoned with the device of the harp between a copious expanse of -wings. When it turned the point of the avenue leading to Penruth Abbey, -looming large as an Indiaman in a fog off Beachy Head, it was readily -descried by the porter from his lodge, who, huddling on his tufted gown -of ceremony, rung out the signal on the turret-bell; whereupon all the -waitingmen, drunk or sober, ranged themselves in the hall, and old Robin -ap Rees pre<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_147">{147}</a></span>pared himself to salute the respected visitor with a -flourish on the harp, as he entered the house.</p> - -<p>Robert De Lancaster, followed by his son and daughter, passed through -the domestic files to the tune of Shenkin, and was received at the door -of the saloon by Sir Owen, who presented his sister-in-law in due form, -making her reverences in the style and fashion of Spain, where the -ladies bow, and the men curtsey.</p> - -<p>The good old man acquitted himself with all the gallantry of the good -old court, and took his seat with due respect and ceremony beside the -lady. When he had adjusted the tyes of his perriwig and the flaps of his -coat, having drawn off his high-topped gloves to give a due display to -his ruffles, Mrs. Rachel Owen began the conversation by telling him<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_148">{148}</a></span> how -much she admired his equipage, which she complimented by saying it was -exactly upon the model of the coaches of the Spanish nobles: the English -carriages, she observed, were generally very ill constructed and in a -bad taste, particularly those she travelled in, drawn by only two -beggarly horses, unmercifully whipped by a brat of a postillion; whereas -in her country no man of distinction could pass from place to place -without his six mules, guided by the voice, unincumbered by either reins -or harness, and ornamented with bells, which in her opinion gave a -cheerful sound, and had a very dignified effect.</p> - -<p>Why yes, madam, said De Lancaster, every country is attached to its own -customs. The Spaniard prefers his mule, the Laplander his rein-deer, the -inhabitant of the desart his camel, and some<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_149">{149}</a></span> tribes bordering upon -Abyssinia ride their cows. The animals no doubt are adapted to their -several climates: in England we are contented with horses, and as our -vehicles are apt to have a great deal of iron-work about them, we are -satisfied with the jingling they make, and readily dispense with the -amusement of bells.</p> - -<p>He then proceeded to pass some high encomiums on the beauty and majesty -of the Castilian language, which he said he could read and understand, -when spoken, though he was not able to keep up a conversation in it. He -remarked upon the excellence of their proverbs, which he said was a -proof both of the fecundity and antiquity of a language. She -acknowledged the justness of his remark, and instanced the romance of -Cervantes as abounding in proverbs.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_150">{150}</a></span> She believed they were frequent in -the Hebrew language, and asked him if they were also common in the -Greek.</p> - -<p>Very much so, madam, replied De Lancaster, in the writings of the -Greeks. As to the Hebrews, the wise sayings of Solomon alone furnish a -very copious collection, and are by us specifically called his -<i>Proverbs</i>, or as the Greeks would term them his <i>Paræmiæ</i>, which some -express by the word proverb, following Cicero’s interpretation; others -by the word adage, preferring the authority of Varro, the most learned -of all the Roman philologists.</p> - -<p>The lady, who had drawn this conversation upon herself by an affectation -of talking about what she did not understand, now perceiving the eyes of -the company directed towards her, and a general silence kept whilst De -Lancaster<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_151">{151}</a></span> was speaking, felt her vanity so much flattered by having -this learned harangue addressed to her, that, in order to hold it on, -she ventured to ask which of the Greek authors were most famous for -their proverbs.</p> - -<p>Madam, replied De Lancaster, your question, though extremely pertinent -for you to ask, is not easy for me to answer with the precision I could -wish. I can only tell you that the Greek oracles were in general adages, -and many of the latter are to be traced even in Homer: the bulk of them -however is to be collected from Aristotle the Peripatetic, and his -disciples Theophrastus and Clearchus of Irlöe, from Chrysippus, -Cleanthes, Theætetus, Aristides, Aristophanes, Æschylus, Mylo, -Aristarchus, and many others, that do not just now occur to me to name -to you.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_152">{152}</a></span></p> - -<p>These are great authorities indeed, cried Mrs. Owen, more and more -delighted with the conversation as it grew more and more unintelligible -to her; and pray, learned sir, added she, condescend to inform me where -the wise sayings of these great men are to be met with.</p> - -<p>De Lancaster was not a man to withhold his answer from any question upon -a point of philology, could any such have been put to him by his -cook-maid; whereas Mrs. Owen had fairly hooked him in to believe that -she was interested in his discourse, and solicitous to be informed. -Possessed with this opinion, he replied—Madam, every question that you -put to me is a convincing proof, that the ladies in your country turn -their minds to studies, in which our English women have no ambition to -be instructed<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_153">{153}</a></span> (a conclusion falser than which he never made in his -life) and it is with particular satisfaction I have the honour to inform -you, that in Zenobius the sophist, or (as some will have it) Zenodotus, -in Diogenianus of Heraclea, and in the Collectanea of Suidas, you will -find ample store to gratify your very laudable curiosity: I would -recommend to you also to consult Athenæus, Stobæus, Laertius, Michael -Apostolius the sophist, Theophrastus called Logotheta, and others, that -might be pointed out; but for the present perhaps these may suffice.</p> - -<p>I dare say they will, cried Sir Owen, and if you find them in this -house, sister Rachel, I’ll give you leave to keep them. Lord bless you, -my good neighbour, she never heard the name of one of them, nor is there -a monk in all Spain, that ever did put a word of theirs under his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_154">{154}</a></span> cowl, -or ever will. I tell you they are as dull as asses, and as obstinate as -mules. Rachel knows no more of what you have been saying to her than I -do.</p> - -<p>This side speech of the baronet’s, so unseasonably true, had scarce -passed his lips, when little David bolted into the room, and having -fixed his piercing eyes upon the person of De Lancaster, ran up to his -mother, and in a screaming voice cried out—Look, look, mamma, there’s a -man in a black wig, for all the world like our old governor of -Cadiz!—Hush, hush, saucy child, cried the mother, stopping his mouth -with her hand.—Don’t stop him, I pray you, said the good man; when -children find out likenesses, ’tis a proof that they make observations. -Your son compares me to the governor of Cadiz, and I dare say I am -honoured by the comparison.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_155">{155}</a></span></p> - -<p>That is true politeness, said Mrs. Owen, addressing herself respectfully -to De Lancaster. It is not often that great learning and great urbanity -are found in the same person: when they are, how infinitely they adorn -each other!—a reflection this, so much to the honour of Mrs. David -Owen, that lest I may not have many to record equally to her credit, I -am the more inclined to notice it upon this opportunity.</p> - -<p>Addressing herself to Mr. Philip De Lancaster, she said—I take for -granted, sir, you are extremely fond of the beautiful infant, of which I -am to give you joy—Philip bowed and made no answer.—I hear, repeated -she, he is an uncommon fine boy—Philip was of opinion that all infants -were alike: for his part he could mark no difference between -them<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_156">{156}</a></span>—Perhaps you have not studied them with quite so much attention as -you have given to your books—Philip was not very fond of reading—Of -country sports perhaps—Still less—Of planting, farming, building?—Not -in the least of either—Mrs. Owen seemed resolved to find his ruling -passion—Did he take pleasure in the wholesome exercise of walking?—He -doubted if it was wholesome, and he never walked, if he could avoid it: -he angled now and then, and had no dislike to a game of chess—I -comprehend you now, said the inquisitive lady; fishing is an amusement, -that accords with meditation, and chess demands reflection and a fixt -attention—I give little or no attention to it, replied Philip; and that -may be the reason, why I never win a game—That certain<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_157">{157}</a></span>ly may be the -reason, resumed the lady, and I’m persuaded you have struck upon it.</p> - -<p>The conversation now took a general turn. Tea was served, and the black -prying eyes of Rachel Owen were at leisure to scrutinize the dress and -person of Cecilia, whom the baronet seemed now disposed to release from -all further solicitation. Master David Owen in the mean time amused -himself with teazing a poor little Spanish lap-dog, which, but for him, -would have quietly reposed its diminutive body in his mother’s muff. -When reprimanded by Sir Owen for tormenting a dumb creature, he set his -nails with a most inveterate resolution into the little creature’s tail, -and to his infinite delight convinced the hearers, that he had no dumb -creature between his fingers. This produced a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_158">{158}</a></span> slight box on the ear -from his uncle, and the yell of the suffering dog was instantly -overpowered by the louder yell of the enraged tormentor—Poor fellow, -said Mrs. Owen, you shall play with little Don when your uncle is not -present: boys must be amused; must they not Mr. De Lancaster?—Not with -cruelty I should hope, he replied; they ought not to be indulged in that -amusement; and it is a very bad prognostic, when they can be amused by -it—The dog is of little value to me, said Mrs. Owen, and I would sooner -wring his nasty neck off with my own hands, than he should annoy my -brother Owen, and expose my darling boy to be punished by him.</p> - -<p>The dog, madam, said the old gentleman with a gravity, that was highly -tinctured with displeasure, the dog may be of little value, but humanity -is of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_159">{159}</a></span> highest; and a more sacred lesson cannot be impressed upon -the mind of your son, whilst it is yet capable of receiving the -impression. Permit me also to observe to you that no lady wrings off the -neck of a dog with her own hands: we should view it as an act of -violence so totally out of character, that I must doubt if she ever -could recover it—I will not suppose that a poor little animal could -provoke your anger, because it cried out when it suffered pain, and your -son excite your pity, when he cried out louder, and suffered nothing.</p> - -<p>I am obliged to you, my good friend, cried Sir Owen, that is just what I -would have said, if I could—Rachel Owen said nothing, but answered with -a look, that I am neither able nor ambitious to describe. In that moment -vanished her respect for De Lancaster,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_160">{160}</a></span> and something was adopted in its -stead of a less innocent and gentle quality. She took her sulky sobbing -brat by the hand, and left the room without apology. The coach was -announced, and De Lancaster rose to take his leave—You see how it is -with me, said Sir Owen; I have admired an angel, and henceforth renounce -all hope of her: such a whelp and such a shrew, as I am now coupled to, -will shortly make an end of me.</p> - -<p>De Lancaster shook his friend by the hand, walked silently through the -hall to his coach, which conveyed him home in safety, time not having -sufficed for the fat coachman to get more than three parts tipsy, and -the fat horses being, as was usual with them, perfectly sober and -acquainted with the road.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_161">{161}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IV-b"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> -<i>The Family of De Lancaster return to Kray-Castle. Our History mends its Pace.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">De Lancaster</span> and his daughter, meditating on the occurrences, that had -passed at their visit, particularly on the expressions, that had fallen -from Sir Owen upon their taking leave, observed a profound silence for -some time after they had left the Abbey. Philip’s thoughts did not in -any degree harmonize with their’s, for he was ruminating on the charms -of Mrs. Owen, and, as the coach was slowly moving up a steep ascent, -promulgated his opinion, that nothing could be more agreeable and -engaging than the very lady, who to them had appeared in so opposite a -character.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_162">{162}</a></span></p> - -<p>No notice was taken of this <i>dictum</i>, for Philip had such a muttering -way of delivering his wise sayings, as made them seem like speeches -addressed to nobody in company, and of course entitled to no answer from -any body. Philip however, who had laid down his proposition in general -terms, proceeded now to branch into particulars, and these produced the -following brief dialogue between son and father; the former carrying it -on in the character of proponent, the latter as respondent.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Owen is very delicately made. I like slender limbs.</p> - -<p>They suit well with slender likings.</p> - -<p>She has a great deal of wit, and I am sure you thought so, for you -talked a great deal to her.</p> - -<p>And to very little purpose it should seem.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_163">{163}</a></span></p> - -<p>She did not like Sir Owen to correct her child.</p> - -<p>Then she should have taken the trouble out of his hands, for the boy -deserved correction, and I am afraid will shortly become incorrigible.</p> - -<p>Here the alternation paused, and Cecilia, turning to her father, -said—What is it in the countenance of that boy, which, when I look upon -him, causes me to shudder?</p> - -<p>It is, said the father, because you read his character in his features, -and are persuaded, that the child, who sets out by tormenting a poor -helpless dog, will in time grow up to be the tormentor of a poor -helpless man. I own there is something in the boy repulsive to my -nature.</p> - -<p>He has fine eyes, said Philip.</p> - -<p>They are indications of his mind, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_164">{164}</a></span> give fair warning, replied De -Lancaster; so far they may merit what you say of them.</p> - -<p>I hope, rejoined Cecilia, my dear little nephew in no future time will -form acquaintance or connection with him. He never will be cruel I am -sure; his little hands already are held out to every living thing he -sees, and his sweet smile bespeaks humanity.</p> - -<p>Yes, and as surely as he lives, my dear, replied De Lancaster, his hands -will be held out to all his fellow creatures in distress, or I am a -false prophet. As for my friend Sir Owen, I pity him from my heart, poor -man. His last words made a strong impression on me. If he submits to -keep these plagues about him, I fear he will never know another happy -day.</p> - -<p>Philip’s opinion of Mrs. Owen was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_165">{165}</a></span> not altered, but his fund of -conversation was exhausted, so he said no more, and the coach discharged -its freight in the port, from which it had set out.</p> - -<p>As we hold it matter of conscience not to keep our readers any longer in -the nursery, we must here avail ourselves of our privilege, and pass -very slightly over a period of our hero’s life, which does not furnish -us with matter sufficiently interesting to be recorded in these memoirs. -As we profess to give the history of the human mind, we trust it will be -allowed us to present our John De Lancaster to the reader as a boy, -whose thoughts and actions were no longer merely neutral, but such as -might naturally lead to the developement of that character, which he was -destined to exhibit in his more advanced maturity. For the present we -shall content our<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_166">{166}</a></span>selves with observing that, although the age, when -education ought to have begun, was now gone by, still the question of -what species that education should be, whether public or private, was -not decided.</p> - -<p>Within this period the following letters, under different dates from the -West Indies, had reached the hands of Mrs. Philip De Lancaster.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c"> -“<i>From Captain Jones—Letter the first.</i></p> - -<p class="indd2"> -“Madam,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“In a few days after I had arrived at my destination I fell ill, -and my disorder soon assumed those appearances, which in this -country are considered to afford but little chance of a recovery. -The wife and daughter of my friend Major Parsons, who came -passengers with me in the same transport, with a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_167">{167}</a></span> benignity, that -exposed their lives to danger, under Providence saved me from -death.</p> - -<p>“Unfortunately for the younger of my preservers, she conceived so -strong an attachment, that I must have been the most unfeeling and -the most ungrateful of all men could I have remained insensible to -her partiality. Her health became in danger, and both her father -and mother, well apprised of the cause of it, offered and even -solicited me to accept her hand in marriage, and I did not -withstand their joint appeal.</p> - -<p>“Thus, after your example, I have married, and I am persuaded, that -my wife, had she the honour of being known to you, would please you -by the gentleness of her character and the unaffected modesty of -her manners. I have stationed her in a little cottage near -ad<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_168">{168}</a></span>joining to the barracks, and in a healthy situation; but her -father Major Parsons is like myself a soldier of fortune, and our -establishment is proportioned to our means.</p> - -<p>“I write by this conveyance to lay her jointly with myself at the -feet of my benevolent patron your ever-honoured father. She -presumes to send you a few tropical fruits of her own preserving, -and hopes you will condescend to accept of them together with her -most humble respects and unfeigned good wishes.</p> - -<p class="c"> -I have the honour to be,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Madam, &c. &c.<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 6em;"><span class="smcap">John Jones</span>.”</span><br /> -</p></div> - -<p>The second letter from Captain Jones, of a date posterior by about a -year to the foregoing, is as follows<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_169">{169}</a></span>—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="indd2"> -“Madam,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“Alas, that I must trouble you with my sorrows! I have lost my -wife; my poor Amelia is no more. She was a being of so mild a -nature, that were I conscious of a single word, which ever passed -my lips to give her pain, I never should have peace of mind again. -The ravages of this exterminating fever are tremendous: she fell -before it almost without a struggle. The affliction of her parents -is extreme, and I am told the sternest soldier in my company, that -followed her body to the grave, could not refrain from tears, for -every soul that knew her, loved and lamented her. She has left an -infant daughter, in whose tender features I trace a perfect -miniature of her whom I have lost. As soon as ever her afflicted -grandmother can be induced to part from her, I mean to res<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_170">{170}</a></span>cue her -from this infernal climate, and consign her to the motherly care -and protection of my kind friend and relation Mrs. Jennings, who -resides at Denbigh—</p> - -<p>“Oh Madam, you, who know the inmost feelings of my breaking heart, -will you in pity look upon my child, the legacy of my Amelia, my -all in this world, and perhaps before this letter reaches you, the -only relict of your wretched friend?</p> - -<p class="rt"> -I have the honour, &c. &c.<br /> -<span class="smcap">John Jones</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>This letter was soon followed by the melancholy tidings of poor Jones’s -death; his infant child Amelia had in the mean time arrived, and was -placed under the care of Mrs. Jennings above-mentioned, who by the -bounty of old<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_171">{171}</a></span> Morgan, was liberally rewarded with a pension for her -education of the orphan.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_V-b"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> -<i>Puerile Anecdotes of our Hero John De Lancaster.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Although</span> Mr. De Lancaster in one of his prophetic moments had -pronounced, that the mother of our hero would conceive a more than -ordinary love and affection for her infant, the event did not exactly -verify the prediction: sorrow had benumbed her heart: she had so long -fed upon it in secrecy and silence, that all the little energy, which -nature had originally endowed her with, was lost. From her husband she -derived no comfort, and for the maternal duties she was totally unfit. -The accommodating contract she had entered<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_172">{172}</a></span> into with Philip for all -nuptial emancipation in future, was so religiously observed on both -sides, that it did not seem in the order of things natural, that the -heir of the family would ever be saddled with a provision for younger -children.</p> - -<p>Young John, who had occasioned much trouble and annoyance to his mother -by inadvertently coming into the world, before he was expected, seemed -likely to go out of it without experiencing the care of any other parent -than the benevolent Cecilia; for Mr. Philip De Lancaster, as I have -before hinted, had married without any other moving cause than what -operated upon him through the strainers of his father’s recommendation -and advice, and was not remarkably uxorious. On the contrary, as the -embers of affection were not vivid<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_173">{173}</a></span> in his bosom, and as there is reason -to believe he did not take much pains to kindle them in the bosom of his -lady, it may be presumed, that he was as little studious to find -consolation for her sorrows, as she was to interrupt his indolence, or -to resent his indifference.—Amusements she had none, and occupations -extremely few: she discharged herself from all attention to family hours -and family meals; eat and slept by herself, received no company and paid -no visits, alive to little else but the reports, which at stated times -she expected and received from Mrs. Jennings at Denbigh of little -Amelia’s health and improvement, whom at the same time she had not -energy enough to visit, whilst her father was a prisoner at Glen-Morgan -under the coercion of two inexorable keepers, old age and gout. She had -a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_174">{174}</a></span> servant Betty Wood, an ancient maiden and as melancholy as herself, -who now and then read homilies to her, and now and then worked carpeting -and quilted counterpanes, over which she regaled herself with hymns, -sung in a most sleep-inviting key to adagio movements, that scarce moved -at all. This work of hers, like that of the chaste Penelope, was without -end or object; for it rarely failed to happen that, before the task was -finished, Mrs. De Lancaster had changed her fancy as to the pattern, and -destroyed perhaps in a few minutes what patient Betty had been employed -upon for months: her carpets never covered the floor, nor did her -counterpanes ever ornament the beds.</p> - -<p>As Mr. Philip De Lancaster had no further punctilios to observe towards -his lady, he seemed to think that nothing<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_175">{175}</a></span> more could be required of him -towards his son except to measure his growth from year to year by -notches in the wainscot of the steward’s parlour, which are there -remaining to this hour as records of the extraordinary vegetative -powers, with which dame Nature had endowed the object of these memoirs. -Cecilia would fain have had her little nephew brought into the room -after dinner, but it was not often she was indulged in that wish, as the -old gentleman did not approve of the custom; and once, when the good -aunt was rather more importunate than was usual with her, he told her, -that the practice of introducing noisy children and prattling nurses -into the guest-room was so justly reprobated by all civilized societies, -that the citizens of Abydos became notorious to a proverb for their ill -manners in that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_176">{176}</a></span> particular, and were the laughing-stock of the more -refined Athenians—And should not you and I, said he, like the aforesaid -citizens, deserve to be the ridicule of our neighbours, if, instead of -entertaining them with the conversation of the table, we should treat -them with the din and gabble of a nursery?—From these, or any other -authorities, when abetted by her father, it was not Cecilia’s practice -to appeal, though perhaps she longed to observe to him, that his -neighbours were not in all respects exactly like the <i>refined -Athenians</i>.</p> - -<p>De Lancaster nevertheless was extremely fond of his grandson, and once -in every forenoon had him brought into his library, where he would hear -him say the little lessons, that his aunt had taught him, and sometimes -with great good humour tell him stories, and repeat<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_177">{177}</a></span> fables, which had -always some point of instruction couched under the moral of them, upon -which however the narrator was in the habit of descanting rather longer -than would have answered his purpose, had that been only to amuse the -hearer; but as this history does not undertake to record every incident, -that occurred during the boyish years of our hero, we shall content -ourselves with observing, that, as he advanced in strength and stature, -he gave proofs of a very early aptitude towards all athletic exercises -within the compass of his powers. He scrambled up the crags, forded the -gullies and braved the inclemencies of climate, with any boy of his age, -however bold or hardy.</p> - -<p>That the only son and heir of a family so ancient, rich and respectable -should be indulged in these adventures, would<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_178">{178}</a></span> not seem very natural, -but that his aunt could not, and his father would not, follow him in -these excursions, whilst every body else about the castle conspired to -encourage him in them, and applauded him for his resolution.</p> - -<p>His great ambition was to rival young David Williams, son of the blind -minstrel, in the manly art of horsemanship. This hardy lad performed his -errands to the post office and market of the neighbouring town on a -poney, who yielded to none of Welch extraction in obstinacy and -determined disobedience to controul. He had more ingenious devices to -dislodge young David from his back, than young David had resources at -all times ready to disappoint and thwart him in his contrivances; and -hence it rarely came to pass, that the horse and his rider did not part -company before<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_179">{179}</a></span> the expedition was complete and at an end. If David was -by chance encharged with frangible commodities, nobody could ensure upon -a worse bottom. Poney had not a single friend in house or stable; every -soul gave him an ill name; but some enjoyed to witness his malicious -tricks, whilst to others David always set out with an assurance, that he -would master him, and generally came home with tokens, that gave ocular -demonstration to the contrary.</p> - -<p>One evening as David was returning home through the park with a cargo of -sundries in a basket, and just then in high good humour with his poney, -he was met by his friend John exactly at the pass, where the two roads -branched off, the one towards the castle, and the other to the stables. -David’s business carried him to the house, but the poney<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_180">{180}</a></span> was disposed -to carry him and his business to the stable. This begat a difference of -opinions on the spot, and the dispute soon begat blows, which were -manfully laid on by the rider, and passionately resented by the -receiver. After a sufficient number of indecisive plunges, which brought -the basket of miscellaneous articles to the ground, but left the rider -only a little forwarder on his saddle than was quite convenient, poney -seemed in the humour to compromise the question between the two roads by -taking neither; but bolted forwards at full speed towards the hah-hah, -that bounded the pleasure ground, upon the very brink of which he made a -sudden stop, and throwing up his heels at the same instant with his head -between his knees, he completely effected his purpose by pitching his -jockey into the aforesaid<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_181">{181}</a></span> hah-hah, which, luckily for its visitor, was -just then full of water.</p> - -<p>When John, who had been spectator of the contest, had assisted his -friend in getting out of the water, and found all bones whole, he -repaired to the stable, where the contumacious poney was still standing -at the door, and, arming himself, with David’s whip, proceeded to mount. -This was a new demand, which the poney could by no means reconcile to -his feelings; the battle instantly commenced; and victory hung between -them for a while without any seeming partiality to either side: many a -time they came to the ground together, but never parted; till at length, -after plenty of restive manœuvres, and a pretty many Welch -remonstrances, poney gave in, and, to the immortal honour of our young -Antæus, ever after became as tractable as a turn-spit.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_182">{182}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VI-b"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> -<i>Education stands still. The Seeds of Enmity are sown. The Incident of the dying Soldier.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Whilst</span> our hero was thus gaining laurels in the field by his bodily -achievements, in mental attainments he made no great progress. His good -aunt Cecilia laboured hard at her English lessons, but his play-fellows -and companions without any labour kept him in such practice with their -Welch, that between both languages he was in danger of speaking neither. -Still his kind instructress persevered in teaching him such things as -she could teach and he could learn, but although he was now advanced -beyond the age, when boys in general turn out to public schools, the -parties, which sate in council on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_183">{183}</a></span> specific mode of education to be -pursued, were so wide of an adjustment, that it might well be made a -doubt if he was in any way of being educated at all.</p> - -<p>Mr. Philip De Lancaster had naturally so little interest in his own -opinions upon this, or any other question, that he parted from them upon -the easiest terms, and took them back again upon the slightest reasons. -He had been heard to say that something should be thought of for him, -but the task of thinking was a task he did not concern himself about. If -the decision between public and private education had rested upon -Philip, his casting vote would have been as mere a matter of chance, as -the cast of the dice.</p> - -<p>Mrs. De Lancaster, the mother, who never opened upon this subject, -except once to Cecilia, expressed her opinion<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_184">{184}</a></span> that the question was of -no importance: he was his father’s son, and educate him how they would, -he would still be his son, and education could not mend him.</p> - -<p>Cecilia was humbly of opinion, that the subject was above her, and -properly belonged to the other sex to consider and decide. She observed -however that Colonel Wilson had given his sons a public education, and -she believed he had no cause to repent of it: this was evidently a lure -to hook him into the debate, and a pretty clear insinuation which way -her judgment and her wishes pointed. But the master-opinion, which alone -could resolve, and carry resolution into effect, was still to be sought -for in the bosom of the grandfather, and he did not seem in haste to -bring it forth.</p> - -<p>If it were put to me in the way of question, he said to Cecilia, whether -I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_185">{185}</a></span> am prepared to recommend a public school, I answer, no: if you should -persist to ask what other system I would recommend, I should observe to -you, that system is subordinate to nature, and that none such ought to -be laid down, till it is apparent and made clear to what the genius of -my grandson points. When I make use of the term genius, let me not be -understood as if admitting any inborn influence, which might seem to -favour the absurd chimeras about innate ideas. I am aware that Sophocles -in his Ajax asserts, that the happiness of man consists only in his -ignorance: in his ignorance of such things, as would make man miserable -did he know them, his happiness may indeed be said to consist; and so -far only I can agree with Sophocles; for ignorance, in its proper sense, -can make no man happy; on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_186">{186}</a></span> contrary I hold it as a truth -incontrovertible, that, if any human being could be perfect in virtue, -he would be perfect in wisdom also; and if such be the test of wisdom, -how can ignorance be said to make him happy? Now if the wisdom of virtue -is to be instilled into the young pupil by the wisdom of books, it must -surely be by other books, than his masters in the dead languages may -always happen to select for his instruction in those languages. Cicero -wrote about the cardinal virtues, as he was pleased to call them, and it -is not quite clear to me, that suicide was not one of the family: in -fact, his book is good for nothing; the man was a follower of the New -Academy, and of course could have no opinion: his ambition was to talk -about every thing, and his maxim to decide upon nothing. You, my -ex<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_187">{187}</a></span>cellent Cecilia, can for the present teach your nephew what he ought -to know, and perhaps if he never learns what you cannot teach, he will -have no loss. You will instil into his heart religion in its purest -principles—in teaching that, you teach him every thing.</p> - -<p>When this honest, but eccentric, man had thus unluckily entrenched -himself on the wrong side of a clear question, he could find so many -specious arguments of this sort for doing nothing, that of course -nothing was done; and the mind of the neglected boy, now thirsting for -instruction, found every avenue shut against him, except that only, -which had little new to afford.</p> - -<p>It so happened that Colonel Wilson had been called away upon an exchange -of his government for one of rather more emolument in a distant -situation,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_188">{188}</a></span> where he had been obliged to reside for a certain term upon -his first taking possession. This was a heavy loss to young John, who -had the mortification to hear the wit and understanding of David Owen -cried up and applauded, whilst he himself was let to remain in a state -little short of dereliction. Once or twice he was admitted to the honour -of standing by his father, whilst he angled in the canal; but John saw -no amusement in watching a float, that never once gave the signal of a -bite. In Cecilia’s flower garden he took some small delight, but it was -pleasure of too tame a sort to satisfy his ardent mind.</p> - -<p>One morning when Sir Owen’s fox hounds were to throw off in Kray wood, -he was permitted to put himself under the convoy of the groom, and go -out to see them find; but alas, he was destined<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_189">{189}</a></span> to exhibit himself on -the back of the reformed poney, late the letter-carrier and drudge of -the castle; when the first object, that struck his sight, was the fine -young heir of Penruth Abbey, mounted on a full-sized hunter, and dressed -in a uniform of green and scarlet. He was accompanied by several -gentlemen in the same uniform, and, Sir Owen not being in the field, -seemed to act as master of the hunt. When the hounds began to challenge -in the cover, the sportsmen were in motion, and poor John, conscious of -his unworthiness to enrol himself amongst them, struck down a narrow -lane, that skirted the wood and led towards the castle by the shortest -cut. The country had been drenched with rain, and whilst John and poney -were bustling through this muddy pass, young Owen gallopped<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_190">{190}</a></span> swiftly by, -and having spitefully contrived to sluice him, (man and horse,) all over -with the dirty soil, looked back and laughed.—Never mind, master -Johnny, cried the groom: sportsman’s fare—Not aware that the injury, -which the poor little fellow had received, was not confined to his -clothes, for upon drawing up and dismounting, which agony compelled John -to do without delay, not only his face was cut with the flinty rubbish, -that had been thrown up by the heels of Owen’s horse, but his eyes had -suffered much more seriously, so that he was obliged to be led home with -his handkerchief bound over his eyes, suffering the whilst intolerable -pain. What passed on his arrival at the castle need not be described: it -was some weeks before the skill of Mr. Llewellyn, and the tender care of -Cecilia, could be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_191">{191}</a></span> fairly said to have perfected the cure. No -intercourse in the mean time passed between the abbey and the castle, -and, if it was known at the former place (which there is good reason to -think it was) neither enquiry nor apology ever reached the latter.</p> - -<p>Whilst the groom enraged the lower regions of Kray Castle with his -account of the malicious feat, John was quite as capable of -distinguishing between design and accident, and with fewer words, but -deeper meditation, laid up the insult in his mind, never to be -forgotten.</p> - -<p>During the time that the boy, in consequence of this injury, was -interdicted from resorting to his book, impatient to be learning -something, he turned his thoughts towards blind Williams, who repeated -verses and played to him on the harp; which to enjoy, he would sit for<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_192">{192}</a></span> -hours, with the shade over his bloodshot eyes, sympathizing with old -David on the lamentable loss of sight, and enquiring if it was attended -by that misery, which his imagination attached to it.</p> - -<p>It chanced one day, whilst sitting in this attitude by the side of the -minstrel, he was solicited for his charity by a worn-out soldier, who -had fallen sick upon his way, and had been admitted into the house by -the servants for the purpose of relieving him in his distress. John -lifted up the shade from off his eyes, to look at him, and the -melancholy spectacle, which, through the misty medium of his feeble -optics, he imperfectly discerned, struck so hard upon his feeling heart, -that he suffered the very keenest pang, that pity could inflict. Food, -clothes, medicine, bed, every thing, that could relieve a suffering<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_193">{193}</a></span> -fellow creature at the point to die, was immediately to be prepared. The -soldier’s tale was short; for in the history of his sufferings there was -a mournful uniformity: wounds and hard service in unhealthy climates had -made him old in the mid-stage of life; poverty and privation had -depressed his hardy vigour, and sickness, consequencial of those evils, -had at length broken down a gallant spirit, which, under these -accumulated visitations, could no longer struggle with its destiny.</p> - -<p>John heard this sad recital of his woe with sympathizing tears; but when -he came to relate how cruelly he had been threatened and dismissed by -the young lord of a fine great house in the neighbourhood, (describing -Penruth Abbey) whilst begging charity at the door, where he saw the very -dogs fed with<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_194">{194}</a></span> bread, for want of which he was starving, our -heart-struck hero started from his seat, and, stamping vehemently on the -floor, exclaimed—Let me but live to bring that Jew-born wretch to -shame, and let me die the death, I care not; tis enough!—Then turning -to the servants, he said—Take notice; my grandfather, your master, has -charity in his heart, and will not suffer this poor man to perish -through the want of any thing, that he can give. Let him therefore want -for nothing; when you have given him what he ought to have, take him to -a well-aired bed in a comfortable room, and send for Mr. Llewellyn to -attend upon him. I’ll answer for my orders—The soldier overpowered with -gratitude, only murmured out his thanks: blind David sung out -loudly—Heaven reward thee, my sweet child! Thou art a true De -Lancaster!<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_195">{195}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VII-b"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> -<i>The Soldier takes leave of our young Hero. Delivers to him a Pacquet he was entrusted with, and dies.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Next</span> morning, when the sun had risen, and old Robert De Lancaster was -attended upon, as usual, by David Williams, he enquired after the sick -soldier, which he understood had been taken into the house by the order -of his grand-son John. This drew from Williams a recital, much more -circumstantial, than had yet been made to him of that event. He gave the -very words, that John had uttered in resentment of young Owen’s -inhumanity, and they were deeply felt. De Lancaster remained silent for -a time, and gave no signal to the blind musician; at length he -said—Williams, my mind is agitated:<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_196">{196}</a></span> give me something soothing, and -let it be a simple melody—I have hastily put together a kind of -ballad-melody of that very sort, replied the minstrel, which occurred to -me whilst reflecting upon young Mr. Owen’s want of charity to the poor -soldier, and, if it is your pleasure, I will recite it to the harp—Let -me hear it, said the master, and the minstrel sung as follows—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I’m sick, said the soldier, and cover’d with scars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Behold the sad fruit I have reap’d in your wars!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Have pity, good master, I’m feeble and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I’m weary, and starving with hunger and cold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Begone from my door, and appeal to the laws,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I am not of your country, nor friend to your cause:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Thus answer’d the merciless squire in his pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And thus with disdain a young angel replied—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What ails thee, what ails thee, thou miserly elf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“To be hoarding and hugging thy rascally pelf?<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_197">{197}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">“See where old father care strews his thorns in thy bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And terrible death waves his dart o’er thy head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Let thy cash buy the blessing and pray’r of the poor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And let them intercede when death comes to thy door;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“They perhaps may appease that importunate pow’r,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“When thy coffers can’t buy the reprieve of an hour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Foolish man, don’t you know ev’ry grain of your gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“May give food to the hungry and warmth to the cold?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“A purchase in this world shall soon pass away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“But a treasure in Heaven will never decay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now tell me what pleasure you reap from your hoard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And I’ll tell you what rapture your dross might afford;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Amid numberless joys I will name only these—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Gay days, happy nights and a conscience at ease.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Do you think, sordid wretch, when you turn a deaf ear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“To the suit of the orphan that God does not hear?<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_198">{198}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Do you hope to escape from the searcher of hearts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“When the tear of the widow no pity imparts?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“When the ag’d and infirm vainly put up their pray’r<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“For that mite, which your mass without missing could spare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The angel of vengeance your crime will enroll<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Amongst those of the demons, who murder the soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Give a shilling to-day, and the joy you’ll derive,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“To-morrow shall swell your small tribute to five;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Progressive delight ev’ry hour shall encrease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And at length a few guineas shall purchace your peace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“If you spurn my advice, you’re a blockhead and dunce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“You cannot serve God and your Idol at once;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Who traffics with Mammon will find in the end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“He has made a bad bargain, and lost a good friend.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>De Lancaster had always a kind word upon his lips for his old blind -minstrel,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_199">{199}</a></span> and having told him that he had added another leaf to his -laurel, went down to his family assembled in the breakfast room with all -that charity in his heart, which the ditty had recommended.</p> - -<p>When the story of the soldier had been heard by Mr. Philip De Lancaster, -he coolly observed, that it was a trick to extort money; he would not -take the soldier’s word for a farthing, and did not believe young Owen -capable of any thing cruel or uncharitable.</p> - -<p>When it was related to Cecilia, she threw her arms about the neck of the -benevolent boy, pressed him to her bosom, and prayed Heaven to preserve -him from the malice of that spiteful imp, whose evil-boding visage -haunted her both day and night.</p> - -<p>When the mother of John was informed of the circumstance, and -under<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_200">{200}</a></span>stood that the man, who laid sick in the house was a soldier, she -sent Betty Wood to enquire of him what regiment he belonged to, and when -answer was brought that he was invalided from the 15th foot in the West -Indies, and private in the company of the late Captain John Jones, whom -he should ever bewail as the kindest master and the best of friends, it -seemed as if the fountain of her tears was never to be exhausted. An -irresistible desire possessed her to see the man, and, after certain -preparatory manœuvres, conducted by faithful Betty, she actually carried -her resolution into effect, and entered the chamber of the soldier, -planting Betty at the door to prevent interruption. As he had been -selected from the ranks by Captain Jones, as his domestic servant, he -had many anecdotes to relate, highly interesting to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_201">{201}</a></span> hearer, and -very honourable to his late master: he spoke also warmly in the praise -of his deceased lady, and in raptures of his dear little Amelia, with -whom it seems he had come over to England in the pacquet, and, after -many adventures and misfortunes, was on his way to visit her at Denbigh, -when sickness overtook and reduced him to the condition, in which the -charity of her angel son had found him.</p> - -<p>He was now exhausted, and Mrs. De Lancaster forbore to press upon him -any more enquiries: she bade him be assured that he should never want; -she would pension him for life; she would settle him at Glen-Morgan in -the neighbourhood of Denbigh, and, if ever she became possessed of that -estate, he should be taken into her house, and pass the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_202">{202}</a></span> remainder of -his days in ease and competency.</p> - -<p>Alas, good lady, feebly he replied, I have but few more days on this -side the grave, and them I must employ in asking mercy of my God, and -imploring blessings on your son, who has been to me as an angel before -death.</p> - -<p>This said, she left him, and retired unseen to her chamber. John was -soon after heard, as usual, at her door, and admitted.</p> - -<p>Come to my arms, she cried, my dear, my noble boy! Did you but know how -I feel and why I feel your charity to that poor soldier, you would not -wonder at the tears I shed, whilst thus I press you to a breaking heart. -But you will know me after I am dead, and that time is not far off. -Leave me, my child; I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_203">{203}</a></span> shall not often send for you; my sorrows must be -only to myself. Go, go, be happy! I am very ill. Send Wood; and leave -the room.</p> - -<p>In the forenoon of the day next ensuing, young John De Lancaster visited -the poor soldier; he was dying, but found strength to say—God bless you -and farewell! Had I been relieved when I begged charity of that -neighbouring gentleman, who turned me from his door, I think I might -have lived, but I fainted soon after, and all your goodness could not -save me. He then reached out his hand, and delivered to John a small -leathern purse, which he prayed him to open. It contained a plain gold -ring, which Captain Jones had given him in charge for his daughter -Amelia, being the wedding ring of her mother: could he have reached<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_204">{204}</a></span> -Denbigh, he had delivered it to her: he had been strongly beset by -hunger more than once, but he had resisted every impulse to part from -it, and had fulfilled his trust at the expence of his life: he now -committed the deposit to the care of one, who he was sure would -faithfully convey the legacy to its proper owner, and he devoutly prayed -to heaven, that it might prove a blessing to the wearer—John took the -ring, and assured him it should never pass from any other hands but his -into those of Amelia Jones.</p> - -<p>In the evening of that day the soldier died.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>Have patience with me, kind and courteous reader! I am not leading you -into the regions of romance: I aim not to surprise you; but I am aiming -to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_205">{205}</a></span> find out, (if haply nature shall direct my hand) that clue, which, -rightly followed, may empower me to unravel the recesses of your heart. -This is my object; in attempting this, success, however short of -triumph, will repay me; but, if I wholly fail, my labour’s lost; I have -no second hope.</p> - -<p class="fint">END OF THE SECOND BOOK.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_206">{206}</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><a id="BOOK_THE_THIRD"></a>BOOK THE THIRD.</h2> - -<p class="figcenter"><img src="images/bar.png" -width="90" -alt="————" /></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_I-c"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> -<i>Early Efforts of our Hero’s Genius.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">John’s</span> attachment to the harp of David Williams inspired him with a -desire for being taught a few easy tunes by so great a master. In this -ambition he was warmly encouraged by his grandfather, who considered it -as the unequivocal characteristic of a true De Lancaster, and boldly -predicted that he would rapidly advance to hereditary celebrity on that -ancient and noble instrument.</p> - -<p>Upon this occasion we should have been sorry if De Lancaster had failed -to recollect, that both Hercules and Alexander condescended to take -lessons on<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_207">{207}</a></span> the harp, tho’ the former broke his masters head with his -own instrument, and the latter insisted upon his privilege of striking -the wrong string, whenever it suited him better than the right. Robert -therefore found it necessary to caution his grandson against copying -those boisterous scholars, and strictly enjoined him to give close -attention to the instructions of his master, after the example of the -Cretan youths, who were universally educated in music, and remarkably -obedient to their teachers.</p> - -<p>John accordingly sate down with eagerness for the undertaking, and in -point of diligence few Cretans could have exceeded him; but when -unexpected difficulties began to stare him in the face, and every lesson -seemed to increase those difficulties, his ardour cooled and despair -possessed him wholly. David<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_208">{208}</a></span> Williams at length pronounced <i>ex -cathedrâ</i>, that his pupil had positively no genius for the instrument; -the case was hopeless, and the harp was laid aside.</p> - -<p>I am sorry for it, said the grandfather, but I am myself no performer on -the harp, though a lover of its melody, and sure I am that no man can -possess a spirit prepared to meet the vicissitudes of fortune with -equanimity and calmness, unless his passions have been disciplined by -music. Let the boy’s genius therefore be watched, and, if it points to -any other instrument, indulge him.</p> - -<p>Shortly after the promulgation of this edict the musical propensities of -the discarded harper began to shew themselves in a very different -character, and he now conceived a passion for performing on the -trumpet.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_209">{209}</a></span></p> - -<p>Be it so! said the grandfather; it proves at least his spirit has a -martial cast.</p> - -<p>Colonel Wilson was now returned, and heard with infinite delight the -story of the dead soldier, told by Cecilia so greatly to the credit of -his darling boy John; but when his friend De Lancaster told him with an -air of triumph of his reigning passion for the trumpet, he treated it as -a jest, and ridiculed the idea. Disappointed by this reception, and -somewhat piqued, De Lancaster was determined to stand to his defences, -and that Wilson, who had arraigned the trumpet, should be doomed to hear -the trumpet’s advocate.</p> - -<p>Sir, said he, you will permit me to remind you, that the trumpet is an -ancient and a venerable instrument. If it be said that the walls of the -city of Thebes<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_210">{210}</a></span> were raised by the lute of Amphion, we have better -authority for believing that the walls of Jericho were thrown down by -the trumpets of the Israelitish Priests.</p> - -<p>I hope, replied Wilson, the trumpet of my friend John will not be quite -so efficacious. If the castle tumbles down with the blast, we may chance -to be buried in its ruins.</p> - -<p>Wilson had better have left this skit alone, for his friend was at no -time guilty of giving his hearers too little information, and he was -just now put upon his mettle to discuss the merits of the insulted -trumpet under its three denominations according to the respective -characters, in which the ancients employed, and have described it. The -first of these, he told him, was the <i>tuba</i>, or straight trumpet, -properly so called: the second was the <i>lituus</i>, or shrill<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_211">{211}</a></span>-toned -trumpet, curved at the extremity: the third and last the <i>cornuus</i>, or -deep-toned horn, of natural conformation, curved throughout: of these -the chief was the <i>tuba</i> first named, which he informed him was unknown -to the Greeks, though not to Homer, who did not employ it in his -battles, knowing it was not then in use.</p> - -<p>He was right in not doing so, said Wilson; but if he had done otherwise, -I, for one, should never have found him out.</p> - -<p>Whether Wilson imagined that his friend had done with his trumpets it is -impossible to say, but it is very easy to believe that he was not aware -how many he had in petto, for he seemed astonished when given to -understand, that there were not less than six different sorts of the -tuba, as classed by Eustathius into<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_212">{212}</a></span> that of the Athenians, invented by -Minerva; the Egyptian trumpet, contrived by Osiris, and employed in -their sacrifices; the trumpet of the Gauls, with a peculiar mouthpiece, -of a shrill tone, and by them called Carynx; the Paphlagonian trumpet, -mouthed like a bull and very deep-toned; that of the Medes, blown with a -reed, also of a deep tone, and lastly, the Tyrrhenian trumpet, extremely -acute and high-pitched in conformity to which it is supposed the Romans -modelled their’s.</p> - -<p>Scarcely was this edifying dissertation finished, when the hall -resounded with a blast, loud enough, it should seem, to shake its aged -banners into tatters: Wilson hastened to the scene of action, and found -his friend John under the tuition not of any of the great masters -above-mentioned, but of a puppet-show man,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_213">{213}</a></span> who travelled the country, -and recommended himself by the strength, rather than by the sweetness, -of his tones. This gentleman, who had just recruited his lungs with an -emollient dose of sweet Welch ale, blew with might and main in return -for the hospitality he had received, and doubtless for the honour of the -corps he belonged to. The Goddess Fame never gave a louder crack for the -best favourite she had, though he were standing at her back, and, like -the bellows-blower of an organ, had pumped breath into her lungs to let -the people hear his own good deeds. The performer, who was an adept in -more arts than one, had just then played a somerset, to the great -delight of his pupil John, and was standing on his hands with his heels -erect in the air, when Mrs. Elizabeth Wood entering the hall, and seeing -a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_214">{214}</a></span> pair of human legs in an attitude so totally irreconcileable to her -idea of the proper place, which human legs ought to hold in society, -uttered, as in duty bound, a most violent scream, and in the same breath -announced an order for silencing that horrid trumpet; it had nearly -thrown her lady into fits. That ancient and venerable instrument, (so -called by Mr. De Lancaster) was accordingly for ever laid aside, and -Scaramouch was fain to make his retreat without sound of trumpet; but as -he could tumble, conjure and shew tricks, that would give no offence to -the nervous system of the lady above stairs, it is probable that both -the ladies and gentlemen below stairs suffered him to entertain them -before he left the castle; and as he very politely invited them to be -present at the opening of his theatre in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_215">{215}</a></span> the village, when Punch and -his company would present them with the entertaining interlude of the -Rape of the Sabines, with appropriate screamings by the ladies concerned -in the representation, it is presumed, that not a few of them were -prevailed upon to be present at that interesting exhibition.</p> - -<p>The shock, that Mrs. De Lancaster had received, was by no means feigned. -She had now become a confirmed hypochondriac, and great alarm was -sounded forth by Mr. Llewellyn of an approaching decay, that he -endeavoured to stem by an unceasing course of medicines, which if they -had suited her case, were certainly not sparingly administered; but, as -she regularly grew worse and worse, it occasioned some to doubt whether -they had even the merit of being innocently neutral.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_216">{216}</a></span></p> - -<p>Thus ended the second abortive effort of our hero’s genius in the -musical department. Not totally discouraged, but cautious of annoying -his unhappy mother, he now betook himself to the humble Jew’s-harp, -whose sibilous strains by long practice and unwearied assiduity he so -contrived to modulate and diversify, as obtained for him the reputation, -amongst the servants at least, of executing some of the familiar Welch -airs in a style, that seemed the very echo of David Williams’s harp.</p> - -<p>For this small accomplishment he was indebted to his genius only: There -were however other arts, in which he exercised himself under tuition. By -the favour of the gamekeeper he became an expert shooter at a mark, and, -since Colonel Wilson had returned, he put himself under the command of -his servant,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_217">{217}</a></span> a disabled veteran, who taught him to perform all the -motions of the manual and platoon so correctly, that the effects of this -discipline soon became conspicuous in the firmness of his step, and the -uprightness of his carriage.</p> - -<p>When report was made to De Lancaster of his grandson’s wonderful -performances on the Jew’s-harp, he expressed more joy on the occasion -than the meanness of the instrument seemed to merit, and immediately -signified his pleasure, that the young minstrel should be summoned to -the dinner-room, where he was then sitting with Colonel Wilson, and at -the same time ordered the servant to bring the harp after him, for that -he would himself witness his performance.</p> - -<p>When the servant had gone out to find the performer, the old gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_218">{218}</a></span> -intimated to Wilson, that he hoped he would have his harp put in order -before he brought it with him, as he did not greatly relish the ceremony -of tuning—I confess, added he, I am curious to see the construction of -this Jewish harp; though I dare say it is the harp with crooked arms, -described by Hyginus, and played upon with the plectrum, which I am bold -to affirm was the practice of king David.</p> - -<p>To all this Wilson maliciously made no other reply, but that he believed -the harp had crooked arms.—I was sure of it, said De Lancaster. Upon -the word, young John came in, and being asked where his harp was, -immediately applied it to his lips, and began to twang it in his very -best manner. In the name of wonder, exclaimed De Lancaster, what<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_219">{219}</a></span> is the -boy about? Is he playing on the plectrum? No, cried he, I am going to -give you Shenkin.</p> - -<p>He went on, and the grandfather heard him out, charmed into silence by -the novelty and ingenuity of the performance. When he had played the -air, which he did with great correctness of imitation, in the style of -David Williams, the old gentleman, turning to him with a smile, -said—Well, my good boy, you have done your part, and though your harp, -I confess, has disappointed me, your art has made up for it. This is the -first time I ever knew the harp was a wind instrument, and if the Jews -have the credit of inventing your machine, you have the credit of making -music out of it. Then, addressing himself to Colonel Wilson, he -observed, that the exact manner, in which he had imitated the style of -David<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_220">{220}</a></span> Williams, brought to his recollection Ælian’s anecdote of the -famous Polygnotus of Thasos, whose magnificent paintings were so -correctly copied in miniature by Dionysius of Colophon, as to preserve -the whole spirit and excellence of the original in all its due -proportions, though upon the smallest scale. Having examined the Jew’s -harp, he observed, that this was one more instrument than he had ever -seen, or heard of before, and asked who taught him. Upon his replying -that he had taught himself, he turned to Wilson with an air of triumph, -and said—This proves what I have always maintained, that nature is the -best instructress.</p> - -<p>In some things perhaps, said the Colonel. I presume, not in all.</p> - -<p>I am not sure, said De Lancaster, that exception should be made of any. -John<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_221">{221}</a></span> had a master for the harp: he made nothing of it: he takes up that -paltry scrap of iron, and makes admirable music. Such is the difference -betwixt the natural emanations of genius, and the laboured efforts, that -are extorted from the pupil by the lessons of a teacher.</p> - -<p>John, who probably foresaw something coming forward, which he was not -interested to partake of, now stept up to his grandfather, and asked -leave to ride over to Glen-Morgan, and pass a day there.—Why to pass a -day?—Because he would go over to Denbigh, and execute a little -commission, which the poor soldier on his death-bed had requested him to -fulfil.—Of what nature was that commission?—Simply to deliver a little -token to the daughter of Captain Jones, which that officer had entrusted -to the care of his faithful servant the soldier,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_222">{222}</a></span> but which the poor -fellow did not live to execute.—What was the little token he was to -carry?—Pray, don’t ask me that, said the youth, and above all things -don’t let my mother know a word about the matter. It would be very much -to the honour of the poor soldier, if I told you all; but I hope you -won’t require me to do that.—On no account, replied De Lancaster, will -I make any such demand upon you. If you will take my coach, ’tis at your -service; if you had rather ride, let Ben the groom attend you, and give -your orders accordingly.</p> - -<p>John took the hand of his grandfather, kissed it, nodded with a smile to -the colonel, and hastened out of the room.</p> - -<p>You have a treasure in that noble boy, said Wilson; but I hope, my good -friend, he will not be suffered to go on<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_223">{223}</a></span> any longer without education, -because he can play upon the Jew’s-harp without a master. Don’t be -offended with me, if I seem to step out of my office, when I speak to -one of your great knowledge in the learned languages, but I presume you -hardly can expect your grandson to understand Greek and Latin, unless he -has a teacher.</p> - -<p>Perhaps not, replied De Lancaster; yet, if it were so to happen, it -would not be the first wonder of the sort, that hath come to pass. It is -well known what prodigies of learning have started up into notice, even -in their infant years, and possessed themselves of arts, sciences and -languages, without being ever put into the trammels of a teacher.</p> - -<p>Indeed! cried the colonel.</p> - -<p>Assuredly, replied the assertor, though it may not have fallen in your -way to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_224">{224}</a></span> certified of the fact. I could, if necessary, adduce a host -of witnesses to attest the wonders, that have been effected by the human -genius, unassisted with instruction; but as your profession, Colonel -Wilson, has probably occupied too much of your attention to allow of -your turning your thoughts to enquiries of this cast, the things I might -relate of Lipsius, of Quirino, Alphonsus Tostatus and many others of -equal celebrity might appear to you incredible.</p> - -<p>Very likely, interjected the colonel.</p> - -<p>Yet are they, every one, supported by irrefragable authorities. The mind -of man, my friend, is in itself a miracle, and persons, who have been -predestined to extraordinary occasions, have been born under -extraordinary circumstances, as was the case with Luther, who, whilst he -was yet an infant at the breast,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_225">{225}</a></span> maintained a Latin thesis against the -Pope’s infallibility, which gave rise to the saying, that he sucked in -controversy with his mother’s milk.</p> - -<p>My very good and learned friend, said Wilson, that you have somewhere -crossed upon this idle legend, amongst the boundless mass of books that -you have consulted I am well persuaded; but that you will commit your -excellent understanding by stating it in serious proof of the question -we are upon I am loth to suppose. When I believe your account of -Luther’s coming into the world with a square cap and gown, I will -believe his thesis at the breast, and, when I believe that, I will not -dispute the story of the prolific lady, who was delivered of three -hundred and sixty-five children at a birth.</p> - -<p>I dare say you will not dispute it, re<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_226">{226}</a></span>joined De Lancaster, when you -hear the evidences for the truth of it. The prolific lady, you allude -to, was the Countess Herman of Henneberg, daughter of Count Floris, Earl -of Holland, Zealand and Friesland, and son of William of Holland, first -of that name; Floris was treacherously slain by the old Earl of Clermont -at a public triumph, and left behind him this daughter Margaret, who -married the aforesaid Count Herman of Henneberg. She, despising the -petition of a poor widow, who with twins at her breast asked charity, -gave her very reproachful words withal; whereupon the widow, failing on -her knees, appealed to Heaven in vindication of her innocency, and -earnestly prayed, that as she had conceived and brought forth those two -infants lawfully by her husband, even so, if ever that lady should be -pregnant,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_227">{227}</a></span> she might be visited with as many children at a birth as -there were days in the year. Not long after, the lady conceived, and -went into Holland to visit the earl her brother, taking up her abode in -the abbey of religious women at Leyden, where on the Friday before Palm -Sunday in the year 1276 she was delivered of three hundred and -sixty-five children, the one half being sons and the other daughters, -but the odd babe was double-sexed. They were all baptised by Guydon, -suffragan to the bishop of Utrecht, who named all the sons John, and the -daughters Elizabeth, but what name he gave to the odd child, said De -Lancaster with much gravity, I must own to you I do not find recorded.</p> - -<p>John-Elizabeth for a certainty, said the Colonel. It may be so, resumed -the narrator; but I hazard no conjec<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_228">{228}</a></span>tures, I only detail facts. They -were however no sooner baptised than they all died, and the mother -likewise. Their two baptismal basins are still preserved, and have been -by me seen and examined in the said church at Leyden, together with the -inscription on the Countess’s tomb in Latin and in Dutch, the former -beginning thus—<i>Margareta, Comitis Hennebergiæ uxor, et Florentii -Hollandiæ et Zelandiæ filia, &c. &c.</i> Underneath is the following -distich, the first line of which has been some how or other curtailed of -its proper metrical proportion, as you will perceive—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—<i>En tibi monstrosum et memorabile factum,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Quale nec a mundi conditione datum.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Here Robert De Lancaster, having closed his narrative, turned a look -upon his friend, that seemed to appeal to him<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_229">{229}</a></span> for his judgment on the -case. The colonel made no reply, and it may be presumed that the -appellant set down his silence to the score of his conviction.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_II-c"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> -<i>Our Hero’s Visit to Amelia Jones.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">John</span> and old Ben, carrying his personals in a pair of saddle bags, were -on their way to Glen-Morgan the next morning before sun-rise. Ben was an -excellent guide across Welch moors and mountains, and did not confine -himself to the roads, that were in use, but had the art of steering to -his point with great œconomy of time and distance. It was a gleam of joy -to poor old Morgan to behold his grandson, for he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_230">{230}</a></span> fond and John was -affectionate. Every body in the house ran to pay him their respects: the -green and red liveries were taken off their pegs, and dinner was served -up in state as to the heir-apparent. The parson, lawyer and apothecary -were in their places, the old butler in gala, and Mrs. Richards with her -attendant housemaids in high requisition.</p> - -<p>After an early breakfast the next morning John set off for Denbigh, and -presented himself at the door of Mrs. Jennings, who received him with -all possible courtesy: when informed of the matter he was charged with, -and of his wish to see Amelia, she was summoned, and ready at the call, -ran down stairs, and was instantly in the room: upon seeing a stranger, -she stopped short, fixed her eyes upon him and made a curtsey:<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_231">{231}</a></span> John -rose, bowed, and seized at once with admiration and surprize, (not -expecting to be encountered by an object of such striking beauty) seemed -to have lost all recollection of his errand, and stood as if he had no -other business but to gaze in silence. As the embarrassment was now -becoming reciprocal, Mrs. Jennings thought it was high time to remind -him of the commission he had imparted to her. Having lost the words, -with which he meant to preface the delivery of the little pacquet, he -produced it at once, and having delivered it to Amelia, endeavoured to -relate what it was, and how he came by it. His narrative was not very -distinctly given, and as soon as he perceived the effect it was likely -to produce, he stopped short, and looked to Mrs. Jennings for relief. -The lovely girl received it with a trem<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_232">{232}</a></span>bling hand, and whilst she -murmured out her thanks, opened the pacquet, snatched a momentary glance -upon the relique it contained, and would have sunk upon the floor, had -not John eagerly interposed, and throwing himself on one knee, supported -her in his arms, her head reclining on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>When she had recovered, Amelia followed by Mrs. Jennings left the room, -and John remained in solitary meditation for a few minutes, till the -lady of the house returned and made the joint apologies of Amelia and -herself for having left him so abruptly. As soon as he was certified -that there was no further cause for alarm, he began to describe to Mrs. -Jennings how much he was enchanted and surprised by the uncommon beauty -of her lovely charge, who, when he had prepared himself to see a little<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_233">{233}</a></span> -girl running into the room, had presented herself to him with all the -graces of a finished woman, elegant in her manners and charming in her -person.</p> - -<p>Perhaps, said Mrs. Jennings, you were not aware that my poor orphan is -but two years younger than yourself. As to the beauty, which you are -pleased to notice, I rather think it is more a promise than an actual -possession; but of her more essential good qualities I can confidently -speak; for a better disposition, greater modesty of nature and -benevolence of heart I never yet contemplated in human creature. To -these virtues she was born; these at least, poor child, she inherits -from her parents, and I think that portrait fronting you, which you are -now looking at, conveys no slight impression of an amiable and noble -character; it is a striking like<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_234">{234}</a></span>ness of her father, taken by an eminent -artist, who was a visitor at Glen-Morgan, when Captain Jones passed a -few days with your grandfather, before his embarking for the West -Indies, which I well remember he did on the very day that you were born -at Kray Castle.</p> - -<p>And to the very day, on which I cease to live, exclaimed our hero, -raising his voice, and directing his eyes to the portrait, I swear I -will devote myself to the protection of his orphan daughter. Unhappy, -gallant man! I have his history from his faithful soldier. Would he -could hear me! I almost can believe he does; for mark, how tenderly his -eyes are turned upon me. Ah sweet Amelia, what I may be I know not, but -yours in every faithful service I shall be. Our first acquaintance has -commenced<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_235">{235}</a></span> in sorrow; Heaven grant, it may grow up and ripen into joy.</p> - -<p>This said, he turned his eyes from the picture, and behold they lighted -on Amelia, standing by his side. Surprised, confused, and doubting -whether he beheld a vision or reality, he threw his arms about her, -clasped her to his heart, and in his transport pressed his glowing lips -upon her blushing cheek. Then rushing to the door—Pardon me, he -cried—and vanished with love’s arrow in his heart.</p> - -<p>Ah madam, ah my friend, exclaimed the trembling girl, succour me, save -me, or I am undone. If this young heir of two such rich and ancient -families does not at once resolve never to waste a thought on me, what -will become of me? What will his grandfather, whose bread I eat, what -will his mother say? The<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_236">{236}</a></span> house of De Lancaster will rise against me, -and I must fly to labour for my living, or involve you in my ruin.</p> - -<p>It is even so, my child, and you discern your danger rightly. He is a -noble, generous youth, but he never can be yours in any time to come, -and you must cautiously avoid him. As for what passed just now, you must -think no more of it. Young spirits, taken by surprise, will break out -unawares, and you must forgive him.</p> - -<p>Forgive him! cried Amelia; yes, it is easy to forgive him, but when -shall I be able to forget him? Never.</p> - -<p>Whilst this conversation was carrying on, a note was delivered to Mrs. -Jennings, in which she read as follows.—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="indd2"> -“Madam,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“I cannot leave this place till you<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_237">{237}</a></span> assure me that Miss Jones has -recovered from the alarm, which my inconsiderate conduct was the -cause of, and that I have not offended past forgiveness.</p> - -<p class="c"> -I have the honour to be, &c.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 6em;">“John De Lancaster.”</span><br /> -</p></div> - -<p>To this Mrs. Jennings instantly returned the following answer—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="indd2"> -“Sir,<br /> -</p> - -<p>You have given no offence to Amelia Jones, but as you know the -delicacy, that is due to a destitute young orphan in her dependant -situation, I am sure your sensibility will remind you how necessary -it will be for her peace, and how consistent with your honour, to -leave her in her obscurity, and suffer me to hope this interview -will be the last.</p> - -<p class="r"> -“&c. &c.”<br /> -</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_238">{238}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_III-c"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> -<i>Business, long postponed, is at length concluded to the Satisfaction of all Parties.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> have before observed, that opposition of opinions made no breach in -friendship between the worthy parties, who were in the habit of carrying -on the debates, that occurred at Kray Castle. In the first place it is -not certain that Robert De Lancaster was in all cases tenacious of his -argument merely from conviction of its strength, but partly perhaps from -attachment to it for its singularity, and the occasion it afforded him -oftentimes of displaying that fund of philological erudition, which he -indisputably possessed: in the second place, it is not to be denied, -that whenever he was absolutely convinced of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_239">{239}</a></span> the opinion he defended, -he was not apt to think the worse of it, because his friend Wilson could -not be brought to adopt it.</p> - -<p>As his researches had chiefly carried him to those authorities, of which -the classical scholar takes no account, so by arming himself with them -in the lists of controversy, he fought with weapons, and made -left-handed thrusts, that even literary men could rarely parry, and -Colonel Wilson never. So equipped, he could lay down a proposition, -which nobody would dispute, and draw inferences from it which nobody -could admit: but let this be considered rather as an exercise of his -ingenuity, than as a defect in his understanding.</p> - -<p>Colonel Wilson, who loved the man, and understood his character, saw -with<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_240">{240}</a></span> infinite regret his indecision as to the education of his -grandson, whose strong natural understanding demanded cultivation, and -whose handsome person was now ripening into early manhood. Edward, the -younger son of Colonel Wilson had now left the university, having -obtained every honour, that either his classical or academical exercises -could procure for him. He had been ordained deacon, and was now of age -to take priest’s orders. He also contemplated our neglected hero with -compassionate regret, and had taken up a very favourable impression both -of his talents and disposition. He thought with his father on the side -of public education in general, but he did not consider himself upon -those terms with Mr. De Lancaster, which would warrant him to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_241">{241}</a></span> volunteer -any opinion upon the subject.</p> - -<p>The opportunity, which he did not venture to seek, one day presented -itself, when De Lancaster, sitting after dinner, addressed himself to -the colonel, and said—I believe I am aware of most of the arguments, -that are usually adduced in favour of a public school, and am so far -from questioning the good sense of those parents, who make that system -of education their choice, that I could almost admit, that out of a -hundred cases it is the wisest course, which can be taken in ninety and -nine: the only question with me is, whether mine be not exactly that -single exception. If I wished to cherish in my grandson’s heart that -early spirit of emulation, which might urge him to the pursuits of fame -and fortune in either of the liberal professions, a public school would<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_242">{242}</a></span> -be the proper nursery for his ambition; but that is not my wish. If he -can creditably support the independent station, which his ancestors have -held for many generations past, I aim at nothing more; and surely, when -I admit that public schools are the fittest nurseries for public -characters, I may be allowed to say that private education is properest -for those, who are destined to fill private stations. If John De -Lancaster survives to be the owner of Kray-Castle (which Heaven grant!) -I hope he will there establish his abode, and be found the protector of -merit, the friend of his tenants and the father of the poor. He might do -this without the help of any of the heathen writers, either Greeks or -Romans; but I don’t wish to exclude them; a gentleman should not be -unacquainted with them; though I am painfully and penitently convinced<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_243">{243}</a></span> -he may bestow too large a portion of his time upon them. Plutarch in his -treatise, that Grotius has prefixed to his edition of Stobæus, debates -the question how young students are to read the poets, to what extent -and under what exceptions: It is a heavy and Bœotian work, that talks of -many things, and teaches nothing. In this country we manufacture our -children, male and female, and by the labour of the workman attempt to -give them all the same polish, let the materials they are composed of be -ever so inert and heavy. Nobody taught the nightingale to sing, yet -every foolish father and mother conceive they can teach their jackdaw to -carol like that heaven-born songstress. It is lost labour to manure and -dress a soil, in which there is no principle of vegetation. This I trust -is not the case with my grandson John:<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_244">{244}</a></span> He is a manly, sensible, -honorable boy, and has given striking proof of a benevolent heart in his -conduct towards the poor soldier, who died in my house; this he did -without instruction from his Horace or his Juvenal, and this perhaps he -would not have had an opportunity of doing at a public school; at all -events I should not have had the opportunity of witnessing it. I -therefore give my preference to a private and domestic education. Now, -Mr. Edward Wilson, you, who are covered with laurels, worthily bestowed -upon you by your venerable Alma Mater, if you think I am in error, -convince me of my error, and you will not find me backward to retract my -opinion and adopt a better.</p> - -<p>To give my opinion, replied Edward Wilson, in a question of such -magnitude would in all cases be presumptuous, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_245">{245}</a></span> to obtrude it in -contradiction to your superior judgment would be unpardonable. -Circumstanced however as your grandson is in point of age and -understanding, I hold him so unfitted for a station at the very bottom -of a public school, that even without adverting to the very strong -motives, which you assign for education under your own eye, I answer -without hesitation, that my sentiments perfectly agree and coincide with -yours.</p> - -<p>I am made very happy by your approbation, said De Lancaster, and now I -must tell you, Mr. Wilson, that an event has been announced to me by -this letter, which in one sense I must consider as a loss, in another as -a gain. My loss is that of an old acquaintance and contemporary, the -late Reverend Dr. Mathew Philips; my gain is the opportunity it affords -me of tendering to you the benefice, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_246">{246}</a></span> he held by my gift—I -perceive you are about to thank me, but I must request that neither you -nor your father will oppress me on this occasion—for in making you this -offer I do it from my firm persuasion of your fitness, and not merely -through my friendship for your worthy father, which, great and sincere -although it be, would never bias me against my conscience to commit the -charge of souls into the hands of any man, of whose sufficiency I had -cause to doubt. Spare yourselves therefore and me the needless ceremony -of bestowing thanks, where in reality they are not due; for what would -you say, if it should turn out, that I have an object in my view, which -would at once convince you, that in serving you I have not overlooked -myself?</p> - -<p>Name the object, I beseech you, Sir, said Edward; and if you hold me<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_247">{247}</a></span> -capable of the undertaking, command me!</p> - -<p>I perceive you have anticipated my suit, resumed De Lancaster. John, my -grandson, is as yet the only stay and support of an antient and not -ignoble family. Your father has remonstrated with me on the subject of -his neglected education. His motives were friendly, and he made them -known: mine for my seeming negligence had reference to the event, which -I knew to be impending, and has now come to pass, though I could not in -delicacy impart it to him. It was the wish of my heart, dear Edward, to -commit the education of my boy to you; but I confess, such is my nature, -and so am I constituted, that, until I had it in my power to confer a -small favour upon you, I could not ask you to bestow a very great one -upon me.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_248">{248}</a></span></p> - -<p>I am deeply sensible, said Edward, of the honour I derive from your good -opinion, but I am also aware of the importance and difficulty of the -undertaking. That I can teach your grandson Greek and Latin, if he is -disposed to learn, there is little doubt; but when I consider that -amongst my many duties this perhaps will be the lightest, I must look to -you for advice as to the system of education, which you would recommend -me to pursue as we advance in what may be called the beaten track of -school-learning. I confess to you I see no danger in those studies to -the man of deep erudition, but much to the superficial and shallow -scholar, for the morality of the heathen writers is not in all respects -the morality of the gospel, and the philosophy of the Greeks is in no -respect the religion of a christian.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_249">{249}</a></span></p> - -<p>Your observation, said De Lancaster, is perfectly just; but as this is a -subject that will require some fore-thought, I will turn it in my mind, -and give you my opinion upon the first opportunity, that shall occur. -Mr. Philip de Lancaster is now from home, and I think he should by all -means be present at our discussion, that if he does not interest himself -in what so materially concerns his son, he may at least be convinced -that we do.</p> - -<p>The topic being thus adjourned, their conversation turned to other -subjects, not important to record.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_250">{250}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IV-c"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> -<i>Our young Hero accidentally meets Sir Arthur Floyd, and Mr. Philip De Lancaster visits a certain Lady at Penruth Abbey.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the morning of the third day young John De Lancaster left -Glen-Morgan, and set out on his return to Kray Castle. As he was passing -through part of the grounds belonging to Sir Arthur Floyd, whose house -was within sight from his road, he chanced to meet that gentleman, as he -was taking his ride about his demesne. Sir Arthur accosted him with much -civility, and adverting to the accident, that had befallen him in the -field, when he was out with Sir Owen’s hounds, expressed his concern for -the unpleasant consequences that had ensued, and hoped it would not -discourage him from coming out again.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_251">{251}</a></span></p> - -<p>I shall not easily be tempted to come out when Mr. David Owen is in the -field.</p> - -<p>I hope, returned the baronet, you do not consider it as a purposed -injury on the part of that young gentleman.</p> - -<p>I don’t suppose the gentleman could exactly instruct the horse he rode -to throw dirt in my face, and almost put my eyes out; but I am not -obliged to the gentleman for looking back and laughing at me, when he -discovered the condition I was in.</p> - -<p>I trust, resumed Sir Arthur, he did not know the extent of the mischief -he had done, and when he did know it, I hope he made those enquiries, -which it behoved him to make in such a case.</p> - -<p>I don’t suppose, said John, Mr. Owen thought that necessary. He had -enjoyed his joke, and was not curious to en<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_252">{252}</a></span>quire how I had relished -it—but I have simply answered your questions, Sir Arthur; when I have -serious cause to resent Mr. Owen’s treatment of me, I shall look to him -only for redress.</p> - -<p>I hope, young gentleman, said Sir Arthur gravely, you will not consider -me as a busy body in this affair between you, for though my habits of -intimacy are chiefly with the house of Owen, I have all possible respect -for your worthy grandfather, and every one, that bears his name. If I -seem to intrude upon you therefore with any further questions, believe -me it is only in the hope of setting matters straight, which at present -appear to be rather out of course, and accordingly I beg leave to ask -you as to the truth of a report, that circulates about the neighbourhood -respecting a poor distressed soldier, who<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_253">{253}</a></span> received charity from you at -your house, and is said to have been very harshly treated at the abbey -door, when supplicating for relief, by young Owen in person.</p> - -<p>Such I believe to be the fact, was the answer.</p> - -<p>It tells much to the dishonour of the party in question, that being the -fact; but if the soldier be still within reach, I hope you will allow me -to tender you these few guineas for his use on the part of my young -friend David Owen, as an atonement for his oversight.</p> - -<p>A piece of bread and a draught of beer might have been of use, but the -money is of none. The man is dead.</p> - -<p>My God!—cried Sir Arthur; turned a look of marked regard upon our hero, -bowed and rode off.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_254">{254}</a></span></p> - -<p>Mr. Philip De Lancaster had of late stepped a little out of his -non-elastic character, and been rambling from the castle every forenoon -between the hours of breakfast and dinner. Nobody was curious to trace -him in these excursions, but it could not fail to be discovered, that -his visits were to the Spanish lady at the abbey house of Penruth. To -say that Philip was in love with Mrs. Owen might be to mistake a habit -for a passion; he was in the habit of turning his poney’s head -abbey-ward, as soon as he had sallied from the castle-gate, and poney -was in the habit of going on without any turn at all till he stopped at -the aforesaid abbey door. When Philip dismounted, Mrs. Owen’s lacquey -was also in the habit of ushering him to his lady’s sitting-room, where -he silently<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_255">{255}</a></span> took his chair and his chance for being spoken to, when the -lady was in the humour and at leisure to speak to him.</p> - -<p>The first remark, that had ever dropped from Mr. De Lancaster with -respect to Philip’s absence, occurred in his discourse with the Wilsons -about John’s education, and it so happened that Mrs. Owen in her tete à -tete that very morning had been rather more disposed to extort a -conversation than was usual with her, when the following very -interesting dialogue ensued.</p> - -<p>I conclude, said the lady, that this extraordinary melancholy, which -seems to hang eternally upon you, my good friend, can only be accounted -for by your concern for Mrs. De Lancaster’s dismal state of health and -spirits.</p> - -<p>Not at all, said Philip: that’s not it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_256">{256}</a></span></p> - -<p>What is it then? What in the name of wonder can it be?</p> - -<p>I can’t tell. It comes of its own accord.</p> - -<p>I don’t know how to believe you. There must be some cause: as sure as -can be you have caught the hip of your hypochondriac wife.</p> - -<p>I have nothing to do with any hip of hers. I never go near her: that’s -agreed between us.</p> - -<p>A happy release, if what I hear be true. Then you have no domestic -troubles.</p> - -<p>None at all: quite free.</p> - -<p>Why then so gloomy? What annoys you, what possesses you so wholly, that -you seem almost to have lost the very use of speech? Are you in love, my -friend?</p> - -<p>Not with my wife.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_257">{257}</a></span></p> - -<p>With any body else?</p> - -<p>With any body rather than with her.</p> - -<p>With me, for instance—</p> - -<p>Oh, with you sooner than with any body. I visit nobody but you.</p> - -<p>True, but I thought you visited me from habit, not from liking.</p> - -<p>I like you very much.</p> - -<p>What shall I do to encrease your liking?</p> - -<p>Nothing. It encreases quite fast enough without your help.</p> - -<p>Bless me! That’s lucky; for to say the truth I have not been aware of -it. But I am so surprised, and so flattered by it, that I would fain -take some pains to cultivate so agreeable an impression.</p> - -<p>You need not. There’s no occasion to trouble yourself about it.</p> - -<p>Should not I contrive to make myself a little younger?<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_258">{258}</a></span></p> - -<p>I don’t wish it.</p> - -<p>A good deal handsomer?</p> - -<p>It is not possible.</p> - -<p>A great deal fairer?</p> - -<p>That would entirely spoil the beauty of your complexion.</p> - -<p>Well! that is charming. I protest you make me the politest speeches; but -alas! they go for nothing. No woman of discretion should encourage the -attachment of a man that’s married.</p> - -<p>I may not always be a married man.</p> - -<p>That’s true; but then perhaps you’d change your tone.</p> - -<p>Never.</p> - -<p>Were I quite sure of that, I would not listen to Sir Arthur Floyd; nor -indeed to any body in Sir Owen’s life time—but recollect we have each a -son. What must we do with them? They’ll never set their horses up -together. What is<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_259">{259}</a></span> the reason that they don’t agree? I doubt your -youngster is a little proud. Isn’t it so?</p> - -<p>I know nothing of him.</p> - -<p>My David does not like him, I assure you. He says he is certain you are -not his father.</p> - -<p>I know nothing of that also.</p> - -<p>He never speaks of him by the name of John De Lancaster; he calls him -Jack Jones after the name of your wife’s favourite lover Captain Jones, -for whom she is so inconsolable.</p> - -<p>Why now that’s wonderful—I can’t think how that secret could get out.</p> - -<p>Secret, my friend! You are much mistaken if you think it is any secret. -They say he is as like that Jones as ever son was like a father—but I -am talking treason, and you must not betray <span class="pagenum"><a id="page_260">{260}</a></span>me—People you know will be -censorious, and it is rather remarkable, that since Jones’s death she -has never added to your family stock.</p> - -<p>There’s nothing remarkable in that, if the talking people knew what they -talked about.</p> - -<p>Why certainly, were the case as they give out, one son of that sort is -quite enough, and were I in your place I should be apt to think him one -more than was welcome.</p> - -<p>I am at no trouble about him. His grandfather and his aunt are at all -the pains of spoiling him.</p> - -<p>Not by overmuch education I should think. Begging the young gentleman’s -pardon, I take him to be a most egregious dunce.</p> - -<p>Oh! if you take him to be that, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_261">{261}</a></span> shall take him to be my own son. But -with your leave we’ll say no more about him.</p> - -<p>Agreed! Besides I know your time is nearly out. This however I must tell -you in secret—Sir Owen’s life is despaired of, and his whole estate is -settled and entailed upon my son: David will soon be of age, and -probably I shall then have some other residence to seek. Your father I -understand is in his seventy-fifth year, and your son in his fifteenth. -A short time according to the course of nature may set us both free. In -the mean time let me see you as frequently as you can contrive, and if I -have been fortunate enough to make an impression on your heart, be -assured you have interested mine no less; and so long as you continue to -persuade me that I am agreeable in your eyes, neither Sir Arthur<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_262">{262}</a></span> Floyd, -nor any man, shall be other than indifferent to me.</p> - -<p>Having said this, she reached out her hand, the gallant Philip pressed -it to his lips, made his reverence, and departed.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_V-c"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> -<i>Mr. De Lancaster descants upon the Duties of a Preceptor in the learned Languages.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is probably in the reader’s recollection, that De Lancaster in his -last conversation with the Reverend Edward Wilson, had promised to -collect his thoughts, and offer his opinion on the duties of a preceptor -in the learned languages. There was little danger of his forgetting that -promise, nor any likelihood of his being unprepared to execute it, for -his mind was fully stored with all<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_263">{263}</a></span> the several systems of the Greek -philosophers.</p> - -<p>After breakfast the next morning he desired Philip to accompany him and -the Wilsons, father and son, into his library. This was not exactly the -thing, that Philip had meditated to do, but it was what he could not -escape from. He was not however hooked without a small struggle to get -free, for as soon as he understood it was to be a cabinet council on the -topic of his son’s education, he humbly moved for exemption on the plea -of his entire acquiescence in his father’s will and pleasure, modestly -declaring that he did not hold himself entitled to form any opinion in -the case—besides, he should be glad to take a little air, for his -health’s sake.</p> - -<p>I hope, son Philip, said the old gentleman gravely, neither your health, -nor<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_264">{264}</a></span> happiness, and give me leave to add—nor your honour can suffer, if -you bestow one hour upon your duty to your son, even at the expence of -your accustomed devoirs to the lady at the abbey.</p> - -<p>This was answer quite enough for Philip, who walked doggedly into the -lecture room, and took his seat in a corner of it, as far out of the -reach of instruction or notice, as he could devise. Edward Wilson took -the left hand seat by De Lancaster’s arm-chair, and the colonel seated -himself on the other side of the fire place, in front of the old -gentleman; Philip, as I before observed, falling into the back-ground, -and behind his father.</p> - -<p>After two or three preparatory hums, like the tap of the first fiddle, -as a signal for attention, De Lancaster commenced his harangue, as -follows—Mr. Edward<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_265">{265}</a></span> Wilson, I address myself to you in particular, -because what you remarked at the close of our late conversation is -perfectly in my recollection, and convinces me, that my opinions can -only tend to confirm what your own judgment and observation have pointed -out. I am now assured, that when you commit your pupil to the reading of -those heathen authors, whose writings yet exist, though their languages -be dead, you will not suffer his principles to come into collision with -theirs, till they are fundamentally and firmly established upon faith in -revelation; for where that does not reach, all must be error, seeing -that the human understanding, how acute so ever, cannot upon mere -conjecture account for the operations of divine wisdom unless by the aid -of a divine communication. All, who with<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_266">{266}</a></span>out that aid have attempted to -discuss the question of <i>first causes</i>, have puzzled and perplexed -themselves and others. A sound scholar can readily confute their -systems; a shallow one, as you well observed, may be entangled by their -subtilties. In short, they are at the best but blind guides; most of -them are mischievous logicians, and many of them systematic atheists; -for collect their several tenets, and I am warranted to say you shall -find they are all to be classed, either amongst those, who hold the -world to be eternal both as to matter and form, or those, who hold the -matter to be eternal, whilst the form is not. You are no doubt aware, -that neither Aristotle nor Plato admit a creation of the world, or -acknowledge any time when it was not: Aristotle maintaining that it was -an eternal and neces<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_267">{267}</a></span>sary emanation from the divine nature; Plato, that -it was an eternal and voluntary effect. Now if what God must have willed -from all time he must from all time have done, where is the distinction -betwixt Plato’s volition and Aristotle’s necessity? In these opinions -are to be found all the component parts of modern atheism. The monstrous -system of Spinosa is principally to be traced in the doctrines of the -Eleatic school, of which Xenophanes was the founder; he was succeeded by -Parmenides, Melissus and Zeno of Elea: his doctrines, which were -delivered in verse and with great obscurity, were adopted by Hilpo and -the Megaric philosophers, and these were supposed to be the eternity and -immutability of the world. Strato of Lampsacus, whom Plutarch calls the -greatest of the Peripatetics, made<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_268">{268}</a></span> nature inanimate, and at the same -time owned no God but nature. The Stoics had their dogma of the soul of -the world; the Epicureans held that God is matter, or not distinct from -matter; that all things are essentially God, that forms are imaginary -accidents, which have no real existence, and that all things are -substantially the same. I believe I need go no further with the Greek -philosophers, for in these you have nearly the abstract amount of their -opinions, and the sources of all modern infidelity. As for the -cosmogonies of the Phœnicians, Egyptians and Babylonians, which derive -the world from mechanical principles only, they are immediately -introductive of atheism, as Eusebius of Cæsarea observes of -Sanchoniatho, whose fragment he preserved, and Berosus of the Babylonian -cosmogony, of which<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_269">{269}</a></span> nation he himself was. To the doctrines of Orpheus -the theologer I have no objection; with him your pupil will be safe. -Hesiod is only fanciful. Of Thales the hylopathian, whose principle of -things was water, I should doubt whether he was theist or atheist; but -of his scholar Anaximander no doubt can be entertained; his system is -professedly atheistical; the same principle descends and may be traced -through Anaximenes, Anaxagoras and Diogenes of Apollonia, in a word, -through all the masters of the Ionic school. Turn to Leucippus and -Democritus, to Epicurus and all, who held the doctrine of atoms, what do -you discover but the blindest ignorance and the grossest atheism? As for -their celebrated physician Hippocrates, who, following the example of -Hippasus and Heraclitus the obscure, held heat or fire<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_270">{270}</a></span> to be immortal -and omniscient, in one word God himself, I can only say it would have -been safer to have taken his physic than his philosophy—but I have too -long intruded on your patience, and forbear the rest.</p> - -<p>When Edward Wilson perceived that De Lancaster had done speaking, being -unable to discover how this harangue could be brought into use for any -present purpose, and conceiving himself not called upon to say that he -would not put a pupil to read the Greek philosophers, who had not yet -read the first leaf of his Latin grammar, he bowed and was silent. -Philip sate with his hands upon his knees in the attitude of a hearer, -and seemed employed upon a very close examination of his boots, as if in -search of information from them; but they knew just as much, and no -more, of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_271">{271}</a></span> subject than he himself did.—I wonder why I was called in -to hear all this, he said to himself, who know no more what he has been -talking about than if he had expressed himself in the Hebrew language. -The colonel on the contrary was under no reserve, but turning to De -Lancaster, said, I cannot doubt, my good sir, but that all, which you -have been saying, would be excellent advice to a student far advanced in -his knowledge of the learned languages, but in the instance of my friend -John I presume the time, when it can apply to him, lies yet at a -considerable distance.</p> - -<p>You are right, replied De Lancaster, and therefore as I cannot expect to -say it then, I take the liberty to say it now.</p> - -<p>The man, whose ridicule could not have been disarmed by the candour of -this temperate reply, must have had a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_272">{272}</a></span> heart very differently made from -that of Colonel Wilson; and as for Edward he immediately found his -voice, and was liberal of his thanks for the instruction he had -received. I shall hardly expect, he said, to do more for my pupil, than -to make him acquainted with some of the best and purest classics, so as -to form his taste, and qualify him to take his part in those circles, in -which he ought to be found: But if he should contract a passion for -literature, I shall bear in mind what you have been inculcating, and -hope it will be my good fortune to find his understanding stored with -such defences, as no false reasoning shall be likely to undermine. This -object will be ever nearest to my heart, and as I am sure I have an -excellent disposition to work upon, I trust your grandson will grow up, -if God gives him<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_273">{273}</a></span> life, to be an honour to his name and nation.</p> - -<p>I am satisfied, said De Lancaster, and have not another word to offer.</p> - -<p>That is lucky, quoth Philip, as his father walked out of the room; for I -am yet in time to take my ride. This was overheard by Colonel Wilson, -and provoked him to say to Philip—If you are going to take your usual -ride to the Abbey, I hope you will recollect by the way your obligations -to a father, the matter of whose discourse may have seemed tedious to -you, but whose motive being zeal for the welfare of your son, ought to -be held in honour and respect.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_274">{274}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VI-c"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> -<i>Mr. De Lancaster proposes to revive certain ancient Modes of curing -Diseases.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">A project</span> had been conceived by Mr. De Lancaster for calling together an -assembly of the chief neighbouring minstrels on Saint Cecilia’s day, in -which he had the double purpose of patronizing that ancient British -instrument, which he had so much at heart, and at the same time paying a -side-way compliment to his daughter, named after that harmonious saint.</p> - -<p>Great preparations were now going forward for celebrating that musical -festival (which was a kind of revival of the ancient eisteddfods) with -becoming splendour. Invitations had been circulated to all the -neighbouring gentry; notices were dispersed over the country<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_275">{275}</a></span> for -assembling the most celebrated harpers, and David Williams was warmly -engaged in making daily libations of metheglin to propitiate his muse -for that grand occasion.</p> - -<p>The castle hall in the mean time resounded with the hammers of the -workmen, employed in erecting a stage for the minstrels, and in fitting -up seats and benches for the company. The banners were overhauled, taken -down and cleaned, and a great display of these and warlike weapons was -disposed in groups and trophies under the direction of Colonel Wilson. -Cecilia’s province was to superintend supplies, and adapt the several -entertainments to the several degrees of guests, to whom they were -allotted.</p> - -<p>Philip De Lancaster still maintained his natural tranquillity, though -from some cause, or it might be from none,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_276">{276}</a></span> he had abated of the -frequency of his visits to the abbey. He gave himself however no trouble -in a business perfectly indifferent to him: the utmost stretch of his -exertions went no further than to the making of an artificial fly for -angling in a stream, where there were no trout, and Wilson had but -little time to spare for chess. Two qualifications Philip had to boast -of; the one was that of being an excellent and unwearied hearer, so long -as any other person would take the trouble of talking; the other, that -of an everlasting sleeper, provided nobody would put him to the trouble -of waking. Between these two happy properties he could dispose both of -day and of night passably well.</p> - -<p>His lady in the meanwhile contrived to fill up her hours with sighs and -groans, which were echoed back to her in groans<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_277">{277}</a></span> and sighs by -sympathizing Betty. Cecilia visited her at leisure times; her son -occasionally, when called for, and her husband by her desire very -rarely, and of his own accord never. Llewellyn was in regular attendance -and full confidence; he pronounced her case to be atrabilious and -hypochondriac in an extreme degree, and as there could be no doubt of -his being right in deciding on the nature of her complaint, it seemed -rather unlucky that he was so unsucessful in removing it. As far however -as the frequency of attendances and repetition of medicines went, Mr. -Llewellyn was clear in conscience.</p> - -<p>One evening, whilst the Colonel and Squire Philip were engaged at chess, -and De Lancaster was tracing out for the edification of Edward Wilson -the route of Solomon’s ships to Ophir for<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_278">{278}</a></span> gold, Llewellyn came into the -room to announce his bulletin of the patient above stairs. Philip’s game -was lost, and he had quitted the field; the colonel put the chess-board -by, and all ears were open to the report, of which the sage’s -countenance augured nothing favourable. The question was put to him by -more than one, the answer was—The lady my patient is by no means as I -could wish her.—Then I am afraid, observed the colonel, she is by no -means well.</p> - -<p>I hope that does not absolutely follow, said De Lancaster.</p> - -<p>She is extremely ill, repeated Llewellyn—She is incurable, cried Philip -with an emphasis and in a tone above his usual pitch.</p> - -<p>I think not, replied the father.</p> - -<p>She is the most decided hypochon<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_279">{279}</a></span>driac I ever met with, resumed the man -of medicine.</p> - -<p>Pooh! repeated De Lancaster, if my daughter-in-law has no other -complaint than what is caused by melancholy humours and impeded -circulation, she may be cured at once; the remedy is immediate.</p> - -<p>Why; what should cure her? demanded the colonel.</p> - -<p>That, which alone can heal the mind and its diseases, said De Lancaster; -music.</p> - -<p>Whuh! cried Llewellyn, (whistling out his admiration and contempt in an -under-note, not meant to reach the ears of the old gentleman) This is a -new discovery in medicine, and one more than the dispensary has yet -taken notice of.</p> - -<p>Pardon me, resumed De Lancaster, it is no new discovery, but the very -doc<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_280">{280}</a></span>trine held by Theophrastus, Aristoxenus and by Pythagoras himself; -the last of whom depended almost entirely on the flute or flagelet for -the expulsion of melancholy; and, as I am no dealer in assertions -without authorities, I shall take the liberty of quoting the very words -of Martianus Capella in his ninth book, which to Mr. Edward Wilson at -least I have no doubt will be familiar, and these they are—<i>Pythagorei -enim, ferociam animi tibiis aut fidibus mollientes, docuerunt cum -corporibus adhærere nexum fædus animarum</i>. In this practice however I -must beg leave slightly to differ from the Pythagoreans, and recommend -the harp or lyre in preference, forasmuch as these were the proper -instruments of Apollo, the god of healing, whereas the flute or flagelet -belonged to Tritonia, whose attributes we all know were of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_281">{281}</a></span> different -description. Let me however do Pythagoras the justice to acknowledge, -that he recommends the lute also as a sedative in the paroxysms of rage -and anger.</p> - -<p>Here the colonel interposed, by observing, that what effect a flute, or -a lute, or a flagelet might have upon the passions of mankind he could -not pretend to say, but he apprehended neither one nor the other could -have any thing to do with their diseases, and to this Llewellyn assented -with a significant nod of approbation. De Lancaster had now got amongst -his sophists and grammarians, and committed himself much too far to halt -upon a nod; he proceeded therefore as follows—</p> - -<p>Whilst there subsists a sympathy between the senses and the soul, the -intellectual remedy for man must be sought<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_282">{282}</a></span> for in harmony. All the -nations under heaven, whether civilized or not, have borne witness to -the powers and effects of music. The Mariandyni, a wild people -inhabiting the confines of Bithynia, made their national music from -pipes, which they formed of the reeds, that grew upon the borders of the -lake Acherusia. The pipe was also the favourite of those mountain -shepherds of Bœotia, called Aonians; whilst the Egyptians with more -ingenuity struck out the complex instrument called Pandura, which was -composed of no less than seven pipes.</p> - -<p>We have in our practice, said Llewellyn, an instrument with one pipe, -but I can’t for my soul conceive the use, that can be made of seven.</p> - -<p>It was doubtless an instrument of no inconsiderable difficulty to the -performer, replied De Lancaster gravely.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_283">{283}</a></span></p> - -<p>I should not chuse to perform upon it, said the apothecary.</p> - -<p>The good old gentleman was in the high road of philology, and kept -steadily on—The characters of nations, said he, are to be traced in the -different characters of their warlike instruments. The Cretans marched -in compact and orderly phalanx to the solemn sound of the harp: the -Lacedemonians rushed into battle to the high-pitched screaming notes of -the shrill-toned fife; whilst the effeminate Sybarites would not move -without the soft accompaniment of their melodious flutes.</p> - -<p>But which of all these instruments, said the colonel, is to cure Mrs. De -Lancaster?</p> - -<p>Refer that question to Asclepiades, replied De Lancaster, and he will -answer you; Asclepiades will tell you, when the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_284">{284}</a></span> citizens of Prusa were -in actual insurrection, and the city on the point of being laid in -ashes, how he contrived to appease the tumult, and sent them all to -their homes in peace.</p> - -<p>But Mrs. De Lancaster is at home already, said Llewellyn, and peaceable -enough, Heaven knows. How does the case of these rioters apply to her?</p> - -<p>The colonel saw his friend was staggered, and handsomely turned out to -his relief—It is impossible, he said, to foresee what turn a case may -take, therefore it is well to be armed against accidents. I should be -glad if our good friend would tell us how it was that Asclepiades, whom -I have no means of resorting to, contrived to disperse the mob of -incendiaries at Prusa.</p> - -<p>By a song, replied the old gentleman; he dispersed them by the sweet -and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_285">{285}</a></span> soothing melody of a pathetic strain, which assuaged their fury, -and lulled them into peace, as an obstreperous child (for men are only -children of a larger growth) is hushed to sleep by the humming of its -nurse.</p> - -<p>I am perfectly satisfied, said the colonel.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VII-c"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> -<i>Mr. Philip De Lancaster determines to adopt the Regimen recommended by -his Father.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> decisive tone, with which Colonel Wilson, at the close of our last -chapter, avowed his perfect satisfaction in De Lancaster’s explanation -of Asclepiades’s receipt for quieting a mob, occasioned such a pause, as -might very probably have put an end to this topic, had not the Reverend -Edward Wilson availed<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_286">{286}</a></span> himself of the general silence to revive it. He -had been closely attentive to the progress of this whimsical -dissertation, and sensibly annoyed by the frequent interruptions it had -met with, whereupon, having watched his opportunity, he said—Permit me -to observe, that I, for one of Mr. De Lancaster’s hearers, can never be -perfectly satisfied so long as he shall be pleased to continue to us the -gratification of a discourse, at once so new, and, to me at least, so -highly entertaining and instructive. In several passages of it even my -small share of reading enables me to recognize some of the authorities -he has referred to, and I have no doubt but he is equally warranted in -all others, where I am not able to follow him; and allow me to remark, -that if his information does not in every point apply to the particular -case of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_287">{287}</a></span> hypochondriac lady, for whose recovery we are interested, -yet even in those points of occasional aberration from the subject, -there is matter well worthy of our attention, and I therefore hope Mr. -De Lancaster will have the goodness to proceed with his dissertation on -the effects of music, as recorded and attested by the ancient writers.</p> - -<p>Reverend sir, said Robert De Lancaster, your remarks are at once so -candid, and your request so flattering to me, that I will contract what -I have further to say in such a manner as shall not weary you, and I -will ground it upon such authorities as shall not mislead you. Damon, -the Pythagorean philosopher, a man not less to be relied upon for his -veracity, than for his friendship and fidelity, by the simple recitation -of the spondean hymn allayed a drunken fray in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_288">{288}</a></span> the streets of Syracuse, -when raging at the height, in an instant, and as it were by magic.</p> - -<p>And pray, said the colonel, what kind of composition was the spondean -hymn?</p> - -<p>It was a hymn, replied De Lancaster, performed by the priests and -minstrels in the heathen temples as a prelude to the ceremony of -sacrifice, and it was called spondean, as consisting of such syllables -only, which gives us to understand the solemn character of the -composition, the object of which was to engage the attention, and -conciliate the favour of their deities, whilst the incense was in -operation.</p> - -<p>If it could do that, said the colonel, and make dead idols serviceable, -I can’t wonder it should make drunken insurgents sober.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_289">{289}</a></span></p> - -<p>Sir—replied the expounder, (lengthening out the word into a note of -something like asperity) You have not heard me out, else I should have -told you, that ancient sages cured fevers, fits of melancholy, phrensy, -nay, even bodily wounds, by the sanative and enchanting power of song. -Who, that has but dipped into their remedies, can be ignorant, that soft -airs, well executed on the flute, were found to be a never-failing cure -for the sciatica, or hip-gout, as it is called? A host of witnesses -conspire to testify to the truth of what I tell you. Can it have escaped -the notice of any well-read scholar by what means Theophrastus found a -remedy for every malady, every molestation, that could disorder and -disturb the health and temperature of the human mind? Sir, he had an -instrument appropriated to every mental com<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_290">{290}</a></span>plaint, a pipe tuned to the -pitch of every passion, high or low, flat or sharp. Xenocrates brought -men stark mad to their senses. Thales of Crete drove away fevers, nay, -even the plague itself, by music. Erophilus regulated the pulsation of -the hearts of his patients by the cadences and time-keeping of his lyre.</p> - -<p>We do that quite as correctly by our watches, said Llewellyn.</p> - -<p>De Lancaster took no notice of this, but proceeded—Can you any longer -wonder that the sage, who has made sympathy his study, and is versed in -the science of these harmonious modulations and their respective -energies, should effect those cures, which are recorded of them, and -which, when explained and understood, are no longer hard to be believed? -As for what is fabled of Amphion, Orpheus and others, who by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_291">{291}</a></span> united -powers of music and legislative poetry succeeded in reforming and -civilizing their barbarous contemporaries, I would not have you to -suppose I cannot distinguish allegory from fact. In the same light I -regard the account, which Suidas gives us of the philosopher Plato, who -was reported to have been begotten of his mother in a vision by the -melody of the harp of Apollo.</p> - -<p>I should be inclined to doubt that, said the colonel.</p> - -<p>Nay, resumed De Lancaster, there is no occasion to debate what nobody -wishes you to believe. You cannot but perceive it is merely an -allegorical compliment to the genius of that extraordinary person, whose -deep researches into the mysterious theory of sounds and numbers having -enabled him to speculate in a very ingenious manner upon the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_292">{292}</a></span> doctrine -of harmony, as connected with the movements of the celestial spheres, -and also with the human soul even after death, was feigned to have been -the very offspring of that harmony, which he developed and applied. -These legends, and the like of these, I know how to appreciate, and with -what latitude they are to be received; at the same time I am not to be -shaken in my confidence, when relying on the ancients, who studied music -as a science, whilst we do little more than practise it as an art, and -of course stand in the like relation to them as fiddlers do to -philosophers. In short, my friends, it is not man alone that is the -slave of harmony, but the whole brute creation also: if stags can be -allured by the pipe; if the fishes in the Alexandrian lake will -surrender themselves to the song of the fisherman; if the hyper<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_293">{293}</a></span>borean -swan, if the birds of the air, at once so fearful and so free; nay, if -even the wild elephant of India, and the ear-stricken inhabitants of the -ocean, will yield themselves up to the minstrel, who will tell me, that -a mere moping hypochondriac, like my poor daughter-in-law, might not be -cured of her distempered fancy by the harp of David Williams?</p> - -<p>De Lancaster having closed his argument, and dismissed his witnesses, -the audience broke up; Llewellyn repaired to his patient, Edward Wilson -to his pupil, and Philip whispered to the colonel, that he should be -glad to have a few minutes talk with him in private. This was instantly -complied with, and Philip opened the important conference, as follows<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_294">{294}</a></span>—</p> - -<p>I should wish to know, colonel, if you attended to what my father has -been saying?</p> - -<p>The colonel had attended.</p> - -<p>I am glad of it, said Philip, for I was a little absent now and then, -and have not carried much of it away. But do you believe all those -wonderful things, that he has told us, about music?</p> - -<p>I perfectly believe that your father has told nothing about music, but -what he has vouchers for, though I don’t know where to look for them.</p> - -<p>Nor I neither, Heaven knows, said Philip, for I have no taste for music, -nor can distinguish between one tune and another, except as it is either -loud or soft: if it is the first, it deafens and distracts me; if the -latter, it puts me to sleep. I don’t suppose it is in the art of man<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_295">{295}</a></span> to -teach me to sing or play a single tune, though it were to save my life.</p> - -<p>That won’t quite decide the question however, my good friend; for music -certainly can charm others, though it has no charms for you. What I have -seen and witnessed I believe; what I am told I pause upon. Martial music -will animate martial men, and not them only, but the horses also, which -they ride to battle: hounds are sensible to the shouts of the hunter, -and the whole race of dogs to the voices of their masters: birds can be -taught tunes, though you and I cannot, and there are doubtless great and -extraordinary powers in musical sounds, though perhaps all that is said -of those powers may not be exactly as it is stated.</p> - -<p>I should suppose not; for if I was to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_296">{296}</a></span> believe that David Williams with -his harp could cure my melancholy dame of her megrims, don’t you think I -ought in conscience to make the trial?</p> - -<p>I think at least, friend Philip, that the trial would do her no harm; -for if she did not like to hear his music, she could easily put a stop -to it.</p> - -<p>But suppose, colonel, that she should like to hear it; and suppose also -for a moment it should have the same effect upon her as Apollo’s harp -had upon Plato’s mother, whereabouts should I be with a whole nursery of -harp-begotten brats to provide for, conscious at the same time that I -had not touched a single string of the instrument?</p> - -<p>That would be rather hard upon you I confess.</p> - -<p>Lord love you, colonel, even worse<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_297">{297}</a></span> things than that might come to pass. -I am very comfortable as I am, but who can tell what a few merry jigs -upon the harp may do? They might be the ruin of my peace for ever.</p> - -<p>Never fear, my good friend, replied the colonel. Depend upon it, you are -in no danger.</p> - -<p>Well! if you think so, said Philip, I will go to David Williams, and put -my wife under a course of serenades directly: It may perhaps please the -Lord, that they shall do her neither good nor harm.</p> - -<p>So saying, Philip left the room, and Wilson went to superintend his -workmen in the hall.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_298">{298}</a></span></p> - -<p class="figcenter"><img src="images/bar.png" -width="90" -alt="————" /></p> - -<p>I here close the third book and first volume of my history, and, -availing myself of the licence I have assumed in the two preceding -books, I stop progress to look back upon what hitherto has been done: no -mighty matter I confess; yet it has put me to the labour of turning over -many a crabbed antiquated author to furnish out materials for these -pages; and to what purpose? Wiser perhaps I had been to have followed -the example of those easy gentlemen, who write without any pains what -you read without any profit.</p> - -<p>What recommendation would it be of this book, if humbly I should say, it -can do no harm? But if vainly I avowed that it was my object and -endeavour to do good, I might indeed speak the truth as to my wishes, -but I should pal<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_299">{299}</a></span>pably disguise my expectations. It will do no good. -Reformers are as unpopular as informers; the medicine, which nobody will -take, can do nobody any service. When I witness the avidity, with which -men will read a thing called a novel, wherein the characters of their -friends are libelled, what folly would it be to suppose they will -countenance an attempt to impress them with more kindness for their -fellow-creatures than they are disposed to entertain, or will suffer -themselves to be persuaded, that their fellow-creatures merit?</p> - -<p>I have been too long acquainted with you, my dear candid readers, to -trouble you with any compliments, or solicit you for any favours. I have -only to say, that I am doing my utmost to amuse you, and if you shall -lay down this vo<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_300">{300}</a></span>lume with any appetite for the second, I hope you will -not find that my exertions flag.</p> - -<p class="fint">END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.<br /><br /><br /> -<span class="smcap">Wright</span>, Printer, St. John’s Square.</p> - -<table style="padding:2%;border:3px dotted gray;" -id="transcrib"> -<tr><th>Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:</th></tr> -<tr><td> -<p class="c">been mispent=> been misspent {pg 24}</p> - -<p class="c">vaulted casmate so fortified=> vaulted casemate so fortified {pg 57}</p> - -<p class="c">the same tranport=> the same transport {pg 166}</p> - -<p class="c">bodily acheivements=> bodily achievements {pg 182}</p> - -<p class="c">had recieved=> had received {pg 215}</p> -</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN DE LANCASTER; VOL. I. ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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